Case and Grammatical Relations: Studies in honor of Bernard Comrie

Case and Grammatical Relations

Typological Studies in Language (TSL) A companion series to the journal Studies in Language. Volumes in this series are functionally and typologically oriented, covering specific topics in language by collecting together data from a wide variety of languages and language typologies.

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Bernard Comrie

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Volume 81 Case and Grammatical Relations. Studies in honor of Bernard Comrie Edited by Greville G. Corbett and Michael Noonan

Case and Grammatical Relations Studies in honor of Bernard Comrie

Edited by

Greville G. Corbett University of Surrey

Michael Noonan University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee

John Benjamins Publishing Company Amsterdam / Philadelphia

8

TM

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences – Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ansi z39.48-1984.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Case and grammatical relations : studies in honor of Bernard Comrie / edited by Greville G. Corbett, Michael Noonan.        p. cm. (Typological Studies in Language, issn 0167-7373 ; v. 81) 1.  Grammar, Comparative and general--Case. 2.  Grammar, Comparative and general.  I. Comrie, Bernard, 1947- II. Corbett, Greville G. III. Noonan, Michael (Michael P.) P240.6.C365    2008 415--dc22 isbn 978 90 272 2994 6 (Hb; alk. paper)

2008034287

© 2008 – John Benjamins B.V. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publisher. John Benjamins Publishing Co. · P.O. Box 36224 · 1020 me Amsterdam · The Netherlands John Benjamins North America · P.O. Box 27519 · Philadelphia pa 19118-0519 · usa

Table of contents

Preface Determining morphosyntactic feature values: The case of case Greville G. Corbett

vii 1

Does Hungarian have a case system? Andrew Spencer

35

Case in Ingush syntax Johanna Nichols

57

Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian George Hewitt

75

The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian Östen Dahl

105

Case compounding in the Bodic languages Michael Noonan

127

Leipzig fourmille de typologues – Genitive objects in comparison Martin Haspelmath & Susanne Michaelis

149

An asymmetry between VO and OV languages: The ordering of obliques  John A. Hawkins

167

On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of  grammatical relations Balthasar Bickel

191

Does passivization require a subject category?  Marianne Mithun

211

The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy Edward L. Keenan

241

Without aspect Maria Polinsky

263

 Table of contents

Author index

283

Language index

285

Subject index

287

Preface One of the pleasant difficulties of organizing a Festschrift for Bernard Comrie was selecting a suitable topic around which to organize a coherent volume. For most scholars, even very distinguished ones, the choice of topic for a Festschrift volume is a simple one: choose the subject area in which the scholar has made his or her mark. Since Bernard has made his mark in so many areas of linguistics, there was no one obvious candidate, bur rather a host of possibilities. After some deliberation, we chose case and grammatical relations, but there were many other candidates. Bernard’s work in the area of case and grammatical relations spans several decades and retains its relevance. His most important works in this area include Keenan & Comrie 1977, a seminal work which significantly strengthened the field of Relational Grammar and encouraged typologists to investigate grammatical relations in particular constructions; Comrie (1986, 1991) and Comrie & Polinsky (1998) which deal with the issue of how we determine how many cases a language has; and Comrie 1981, one of the first comprehensive works on contemporary linguistic typology, in which numerous issues dealing with case, grammatical relations, the relational hierarchy, and so on are discussed with elegance and clarity. His works dealing with issues of case and grammatical relations in specific languages number in the dozens and represent a broad sampling of the world’s languages. The papers in this volume can therefore be grouped into two broad – though overlapping – classes: those dealing primarily with case and those dealing primarily with grammatical relations. Corbett and Spencer use Comrie (1986) as a starting point for their analyses of the case systems of Russian and Hungarian, respectively. Corbett addresses the question of how many cases Russian has. Views on this issue range from the standard six of most grammars of Russian to as many as eleven. He concludes that to answer this question, we have to recognize that case values vary in their status in a language like Russian, with some being more ‘canonical’ than others. Spencer takes on a similar issue, asking whether Hungarian has any cases at all. Analyses of the number of cases of Hungarian vary even more than those of Russian, ranging from 17 to 28. Spencer concludes that Hungarian has no case system at all, employing rather a set of ‘fused postpositional portmanteaus’. Nichols and Hewitt examine the case systems of languages in the Caucasus. Nichols describes the case system of Ingush, concluding that the case system and agreement are consistently ergative, the few exceptions exhibiting neutral [not accusative] alignment, while the syntax of argument sharing is split ergative/

 Preface

(loosely) accusative. Hewitt surveys some features of case and grammatical relations on the basis of examples from languages belonging to the North West Caucasian and South Caucasian (or Kartvelian) families. Dahl discusses the retention of the dative case in some dialects of northern Sweden. These dialects have retained the historical dative, which has been lost in the standard varieties of all the mainland Scandinavian languages. The situation described by Dahl is interesting because the historical dative follows a grammaticalization path otherwise unattested: the dative plural develops into an indefinite plural marker in premodified noun phrases. Noonan investigates an issue in typology, namely the issue of case combining. After presenting a typology of the kinds of case combining, he details the modes of case combining found in the Bodic languages of the Tibeto-Burman family. The paper by Haspelmath and Michaelis surveys genitive objects in a set of European languages: German, English, Latin, French and Italian. They examine both genitives marked by cases and genitives marked by prepositions and find a common meaning among a diverse range of apparent functions and forms. The second, related theme of grammatical relations is considered from different perspectives in the following papers. Hawkins examines the order of obliques in OV and VO languages, using the data collected for WALS (Haspelmath et al. 2005), of which Bernard Comrie is a coeditor. Bickel discusses the effects of the referential hierarchy on the distribution of grammatical relations. In line with Bernard’s own work on this, he finds weak statistical support for effects on splits in case alignment, but he furthermore shows that there are no such effects on splits in agreement systems and that the available typological evidence is indecisive for other constructions. Mithun poses the question: “Does passivization require a subject category?” She shows that languages without a robust subject category generally lack passives, but there are exceptions, for example Pomoan languages which show little evidence of a subject category yet still have a construction typically translated as a passive. In linguistic theory, especially in its more formal instantiations, attempts have been made to link the distribution of case to aspect (for example, in the Minimalist Program, tense or aspect is often viewed as a case assigner, and languages may differ in allowing such case assignment or not). It is also well-known that aspect or mood are closely linked to case alternations, for example, in Finnish or Slavic, where the partitive is more often than not found in the imperfective, irrealis, or under negation. Case, definiteness, and aspect form another well-known cluster of properties, and Bernard’s work has addressed the interaction among all three. The consideration of tense, aspect and definiteness introduces a broader context in which case and grammatical relations can be considered, as shown particularly by two papers in this volume. Keenan investigates subjecthood, looking specifically

Preface

at Malagasy from the perspective of the generalization that subjects in West Austronesian languages are definite. He examines three types of quantified NPs which could be interpreted as counterexamples to this generalization. Polinsky discusses an extreme case of language reanalysis when both case marking and correlated aspectual distinctions disappear under the incomplete acquisition of Russian by heritage speakers (people who learned Russian as children, but later abandoned it, completely or partially, in favour of another dominant language). Crucially, while the morphological realizations of case and aspect are absent from heritage Russian, new mechanisms come into place which compensate for the absence of morphology and express the conceptual contrasts that are seemingly universal. Each paper was written especially for this volume, linking to research in which Bernard has been involved, and taking it a step further. We offer our sincere thanks to Lisa Mack, Tyko Dirksmeyer and Deborah Mulvaney for their careful help in the preparation of the volume and to Edith Moravcsik for numerous helpful comments. And Bernard is involved again here: having received a pre-publication version on his birthday, he made some of his trademark suggestions, which as authors we were all grateful to adopt.

References Comrie, B. 1981[1989]. Language Universals and Linguistic Typology. Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press. Comrie, B. 1986. On delimiting cases. In Case in Slavic, R.D. Brecht & J.S. Levine (Eds), 86–106. Columbus OH: Slavica. Comrie, B. 1991. Form and function in identifying cases. In Paradigms: The Economy of Inflection, F. Plank (Ed.), 41–55. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Comrie, B. 2005. Alignment of case marking. In The World Atlas of Language Structures, M. Haspelmath et al. (Eds), 398–405. Oxford: OUP. Comrie, B. & Polinsky, M. 1998. The great Daghestanian case hoax. In Case, Typology, and Grammar, A. Siewierska & Jae Jung Song (Eds), 95–114. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Haspelmath, M., Dryer, M., Gil, D. & Comrie, B. 2005. The World Atlas of Language Structures (WALS). Oxford: OUP. Keenan, E.L. & Comrie, B. 1977. Noun phrase accessibility and universal grammar. Linguistic Inquiry 8: 63–99.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values The case of case1 Greville G. Corbett

Surrey Morphology Groupa Determining the number of cases (case values) in a given language may be a challenging analytical task. In establishing the techniques, special attention has been devoted to Russian, since it exhibits a whole set of difficult problems. It has been claimed to have as few as six case values or as many as eleven. The evidence is considered again, taking the valuable work of the Set-theoretical School, and moving on to a ‘Canonical’ approach in which we construct a logical scheme against which to evaluate the different case values. We see clearly that the case values differ dramatically in status, from those at the centre of the system to those which are peripheral and in decline, yet maintaining a presence in the case system.

A long-running and still vital debate concerns the way in which we can determine the number of cases (case values) in a given language. This matters both for the description of particular languages, and even more for typology, given the imperative for the typologist to compare like with like. Within this debate special attention has been devoted to Russian. And rightly so, since Russian exhibits a whole set of difficult analytic problems with respect to case. As a result it has been claimed to have as few as six case values or as many as eleven. .  This is an issue to which Bernard Comrie has made important contributions (1986, 1991). One of his papers on the topic includes the line: ‘… the ideas are therefore put forward in the spirit of initiating a discussion’ (1991: 104); the current chapter takes forward that discussion The support of the ESRC under grant RES-051-27-0122 and of the AHRC under grant B/ RG/AN4375/APN18306 is gratefully acknowledged, as is the hospitality of the Department of Linguistics, Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, Leipzig, where I started work on this paper. I wish to thank all the following for discussion and comments: Peter Arkadiev, Matthew Baerman, Noel Brackney, Dunstan Brown, Marina Chumakina, Bernard Comrie, Nicholas Evans, Anna Kibort, Maria Koptjevska-Tamm, Alexander Krasovitsky, Alison Long, Olga Mladenova, Edith Moravcsik, Irina Nikolaeva, Vladimir Plungian, Andrew Spencer and Carole Tiberius. Some of these comments were given at a meeting of Surrey Linguistic Circle on 7 June 2006. Special thanks for extended illuminating discussions are due to Michael Daniel and Igor Mel’čuk.



Greville G. Corbett

This contribution continues the debate, again giving Russian a central place. Our concern with case is partly with case as a feature (comparable to gender, number and person), but mainly with the values of the feature (nominative, accusative and so on).2 What is novel about it is first the adoption of a canonical approach, in which we construct a logical scheme against which to evaluate the different case values (see §1 below), and second the fact that the criteria we discuss are shown to be relevant to morphosyntactic features more generally, rather then being restricted to case. The debate on case has a distinguished earlier history, including among others Hjelmslev (1935–37), Jakobson (1936, 1958),3 de Groot (1939) and Kuryłowicz (1949).4 It is not surprising that Russian has figured large, since its case system combines many of the difficult issues. Uspenskij (1957) gives interesting detail on earlier discussions, notably within the group which started work on mathematical models in linguistics in Moscow in 1956; responding to questions posed by Andrej Kolmogorov.5 This work in the Set-theoretical School led to important contributions by Zaliznjak (1967, 1973), which are of continuing value. One reason for this is Zaliznjak’s modern approach to morphology (see Krylov 2002: 705). Mel’čuk (1986/2006) takes up the issues discussed by Zaliznjak critically and constructively. An extensive and sympathetic technical survey of this work is given by van Helden (1993).6 There is continuing discussion

.  The related issue as to when case should be recognized as a feature is considered in Spencer & Otoguro (2005) and Spencer (this volume). Features are often called ‘categories’, and their values are sometimes called ‘properties’, sometimes also ‘grammemes’, notably by Zaliznjak. .  Jakobson’s approach is discussed and developed in many places, for instance, in Chvany (1986) and in Franks (1995:  41–55). Unlike work in this tradition, we will not decompose Jakobson’s eight case values into sub-features, except where there is specific evidence for structuring (as with the second locative). There are two main grounds for this decision. First the analyses of this type have proved problematic (see, for example, Baerman, Brown & Corbett 2005: 210). And second, as Gerald Gazdar has pointed out (personal communication), there are 6720 possible ways to describe eight values using three binary features. In view of this, unless there are principled reasons for postulating particular binary features from the outset, it should not be taken as significant if there is an analysis using binary features which is partially successful. .  For a critical account of some of the early attempts to describe the Russian system see Kilby (1977: 1–42); for much earlier accounts of case see Serbat (1981), and for more recent developments see Anderson (2006) and Butt (2006). The importance of the issue can be seen from the fact that the general topic of case, taken broadly, has 6643 entries in Campe’s bibliography (1994). .  See van Helden (1993: 138) for sources. .  van Helden (1993: 554–557, 1062–1115) is particularly relevant to Zaliznjak’s work; Meyer (1994) is a valuable review of van Helden (1993).



Determining morphosyntactic feature values

on determining the case values of Russian, see for instance Gladkij (1999)7 and Plungian (2000: 161–180); a useful survey from a computational perspective is provided by Koval’ (2004). Each of the case values identified (such as nominative or genitive) may have different functions; as Zaliznjak (1973: 56n2) points out, this is recognized in the traditional names: genetivus possessivus, genetivus partitivus, dativus commodi, dativus possessivus, and so on, where the first part of the name specifies the formal case, and the second part indicates its function. While we shall concentrate on case values, these various case functions also deserve typological investigation, as proposed by Ferguson (1970), and continued recently through the use of semantic maps (Haspelmath 2003).8

1.  The canonical approach in typology How are we to make progress in understanding a system like the Russian case system? We must examine the data carefully using different approaches (including work with consultants and corpus studies) and work through the extensive literature on the subject, some of which we noted above. Yet the data are so familiar to many linguists that it is hard to get further. In trying to get a new view of this complex phenomenon we may take a ‘canonical’ approach. We extrapolate from what there is to what there might be. And within that scheme of theoretical possibilities we can situate the real instances we have found. An effect of this canonical approach is to separate out coincidental overlappings in the examples that exist; we may then start to ask which characteristics happen to be the way they are and which have to be the way they are. To take an easy example: in Russian the form Ivanu ‘to Ivan’ can only be an instance of the dative case. Whatever the syntactic environment, Ivanu ‘to Ivan’ must be a dative (and if another case value were required this form would be ungrammatical). On the other hand Ivana could fit into syntactic slots where we find the accusative and those requiring the genitive. If every form were like that, we would have no evidence for distinguishing genitive from accusative; and continuing along that route to the logical end point, if we had no means of distinguishing cases we would have no case system. We can say,

.  Gladkij’s dependency model (presented in Gladkij 1969, 1973a,b) is considered to be ‘the apex of case modelling’ (van Helden 1993:  849); see van Helden (1993:  849–878) for discussion. .  The issue of whether case values have meaning is taken up by Mel’čuk (2004). For discussion both of establishing case values and of their functions see Arkadiev (2006: 18–48).





Greville G. Corbett

therefore, that the situation represented by Ivanu ‘to Ivan’, where we have a unique mapping from form to function is canonical, that represented by Ivana is not. We can imagine a system in which every form of every nominal were like Ivanu. That would be fully canonical in terms of the form-function mapping. It does not matter at this stage whether such a system exists: the point is that we can define it, we can recognize it if we find it, and it gives us one measure of canonicity according to which we can calibrate the instances of case values in the system which we are examining. We can consider the syntax of these case values in a similar way. Imagine we had a language whose case values were all determined by simple syntactic rules of the type: ‘the direct object of a transitive verb stands in the accusative case’. We could recognize and agree about such a system, and it would indeed be canonical. It is harder to classify the numerous possible deviations from such simple syntactic rules: we can agree readily that there is a deviation, but it is much harder to establish and to agree whether we have a slightly different syntactic structure, or a semantic condition, and so on. Thus it can be helpful to have the logically possible canonical system in mind, whether or not we find examples of it. The canonical approach then requires clear definitions. We take these to their logical end points, in order to construct a theoretical space. The convergence of criteria fixes a canonical point from which the phenomena actually found can be calibrated. The instances which would qualify as canonical according to our definitions, the ones that are the indisputable instances, will almost certainly not be frequent. This is expected, and certainly not to be treated as a problem. Since the paper uses Russian data, it is appropriate to repeat the neat formulation by Johanna Nichols (personal communication): ‘Canonical constructions are all alike; each non-canonical construction is non-canonical in its own way.’9 This canonical approach has been applied for both syntax and morphology (see Corbett (2007a) for references). The canonical approach allows us to handle gradient phenomena in a principled way. For the current problem this has a nice consequence, in that we can locate instances of case values as more or less canonical, rather than having an ‘all or nothing’ requirement that a particular instance is a case value or it is not. This is a particular advantage when considering diachronic change, since forms may gain or lose ‘casehood’ gradually over time (Michael Daniel, personal communication).

.  Compare: ‘All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’ (Lev Tolstoy, Anna Karenina). It is worth stressing, however, that there is no requirement for the canonical point to be occupied, in fact it typically is not. To continue the comparison, there is no need for us to point to the linguistic equivalent of a family completely and perfectly happy according to all criteria.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values

2.  Canonical features and their values In attempting to establish what is canonical for case, we find that almost every criterion holds equally well for other morphosyntactic features and their values. We shall concentrate on case, while making occasional comparisons with other features. We need to look first at how case values are identified, in order then to investigate how issues of canonicity relate to such case values (§3). As a point of reference, we give traditional paradigms of two types of Russian noun:

(1) ParadigmˉofˉtwoˉRussianˉnouns žurnal ‘magazine’ (inflectional class I)

Nominative Accusative Genitive Dative Instrumental Locative

komnata ‘room’ (inflectional class II)

Singular

Plural

Singular

Plural

žurnal žurnal žurnala žurnalu žurnalom žurnale

žurnaly žurnaly žurnalov žurnalam žurnalami žurnalax

komnata komnatu komnaty komnate komnatoj komnate

komnaty komnaty komnat komnatam komnatami komnatax

These are fully regular nouns: there are many thousands which inflect similarly.10 However, these nouns represents only two inflectional classes; there are two other major classes and several smaller subclasses (Corbett & Fraser 1993). The cases proposed are relatively uncontroversial. But it is still worth asking, as Kolmogorov and the members of the Set-theoretical School did, how we justify such an analysis. For instance, given that žurnal has the same forms, singular and plural, for the case values nominative and accusative, how do we justify claiming there are two case values here? The method is set out in Zaliznjak (1967/2002: 36–42), but see also Goddard (1982) and Comrie (1986, 1991). We start from the idea of contexts. We find various syntactic contexts, such as ja vižu … ‘I see … ’, u menja net … ‘I haven’t got a …’ and collate the forms which fit appropriately into these contexts (by tradition, the contexts are the rows, and the items examined – nouns in this instance – are arranged in columns, giving a table). Evidently žurnal and komnatu would both fit in the ja vižu … context. However, there are other contexts where komnatu would not fit, but komnata would be needed, and here žurnal

.  Animates like Ivan, mentioned earlier, inflect like žurnal ‘magazine’ but, being animate, have the accusative syncretic with the genitive.





Greville G. Corbett

would again fit. Hence we could claim that the two different instances of žurnal have different case values. If two contexts produce exactly the same results for every noun we test, then we can discard one of the two contexts. So far this makes intuitive sense. However, the context must also be semantically constrained. Thus the context ona pišet … ‘she is writing …’ would allow both pis’mo ‘a letter’ and karandašom ‘with a pencil’. We do not want to suggest these two nouns are in the same case, rather that the apparently single context is not adequate here.11 In the terms of Comrie (1986: 91)12 we also require identity of function. And more generally, we may require alternative contexts to allow natural readings for different semantic classes of noun. The procedure works well while we constrain the contexts (consciously or unconsciously). But suppose that like Zaliznjak we take the procedure seriously and include contexts like ja risuju svoju … ‘I am drawing my own …’? Svoju ‘one’s own’ is feminine, and there is no possible form of žurnal ‘magazine’ that could fit into this context, since it is masculine. The next step in the procedure is to eliminate contexts like this one, which produce gaps in the table, provided that in all other respects (i.e., apart from the gap) the context gives results which are identical to those of another context. This has the neat effect of allowing us to abstract away from the features of number and gender. For a fuller account see Zaliznjak (1967/2002: 36–42); the issues are well summarized in Blake (1994: 29–30). 3.  Criteria for canonical features and values Given this general approach to determining case feature values, let us now consider a canonical morphosyntactic feature and its values, and see how our case data fit in. There are several criteria, which we group under more general principles. This part has two goals, therefore. To introduce the criteria for canonicity, and then for each one to indicate briefly how the six main cases of Russian (as in (1)) measure up against it. Principle I: Features and their values are clearly distinguished by formal means (and the clearer the formal means by which a feature or value is distinguished, the more canonical that feature or value).

.  The notion of ‘context’ is considered further in Madojan (1989). .  Bílý & Pettersson (1988) take issue with Comrie (1986), arguing against what they consider to be over-reliance on the ‘analogical principle’ for determining the number of cases; their analysis, in my view, does not provide a convincing interface between syntax and morphology. As discussed in §2.2 below, syntax should be ‘morphology-free’, and their analysis, I believe, does not guarantee this.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values

Formal means are ‘clear’ to the extent that they allow a transparent and regular mapping from form to function. The general point is straightforward: in the canonical situation there is clear evidence for the feature and its values. Turning to Russian, it is evident that there is a morphosyntactic feature of case. In most instances, accounting for the inflectional form of the use of a noun, adjective or pronoun requires reference to case. More interesting is to look at the values of the feature and more interesting still to look at the contentious case values. We therefore look quite briefly here at the main six values, going through the criteria in turn, mainly in order to indicate that the six main case values vary considerably, and in some instances diverge substantially from canonical. We shall not linger over the detail here, in order to concentrate subsequently on the contentious case values (in §4 and §5). We shall see that Principle I is largely observed, though with great variation between the case values. Principle I covers four more specific criteria: Criterion 1: Canonical features and their values have a dedicated form (are ‘autonomous’). It is natural to assume that in order to postulate a feature, and its various values, we should be able in each instance to point to an inflected form and to show that it can be explained only in terms of the particular feature and value. For instance, in (1) above, the form žurnalom requires reference to case and to instrumental: it cannot result from any other specification. This is what Zaliznjak (1973: 69–74) and Mel’čuk (1986:  66–70) treat as ‘autonomous’. There is a question, however, as to what is the standard of comparison. We might state the criterion in absolute terms, that is, we look for some marker with a unique function. This would be appropriate if the inflectional morphology in question was also canonical (see Principle III below). However, Zaliznjak and Mel’čuk both treat autonomy relative to a particular lexeme; if for a given lexeme there is a unique form, then the feature value is autonomous. It may seem obvious that we can argue for a feature only if it autonomous is in this sense. However, even that is not clear-cut; see Chumakina, Kibort & Corbett (2007) where it is argued that a person feature is required in the grammar of Archi, even though there is no dedicated form to support it. Evaluation of Russian: some case values are clearly canonical in terms of criterion 1: thus žurnalom ‘magazine’ can only be instrumental (singular). However, the accusative case fares poorly against this criterion. Only in the second inflectional class do we find a unique form for the accusative: komnatu ‘room’ is accusative (singular). For all other classes the accusative is expressed by forms syncretic with the nominative or genitive. Zaliznjak (1973: 74–75) talks of the accusative as being close to non-autonomous.



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Greville G. Corbett

Criterion 2: Canonical features and their values are uniquely distinguishable across other logically compatible features and their values. In the canonical situation, we can distinguish a case and its values irrespective of other features and their values. In other words, we do not have to select particular combinations: any of them will serve.13 Of course, in languages like German we find numerous syncretisms, so that, for instance, to establish gender we look at forms which are singular. Allowing for the combination of features is a key part of the procedure for defining case; see Zaliznjak (1973: 59). The non-canonicity produced by various types of syncretism can produce difficult problems, as we shall see. Indeed, Meyer (1994: 360) suggests that successful set-theoretic modelling of a category in a given language requires full knowledge of all the other categories. Russian: while case is expressed together with number (and also with gender in adjectives and some pronouns) the different values are normally distinguishable in the different combinations. However, the accusative is again far from canonical here. Criterion 3: Canonical features and their values are distinguished consistently across relevant word classes. In a sense it is true to say that German and English both have case, and indeed that German and English both have gender. However, these statements are somewhat misleading. In German we have evidence for the case feature in articles, adjectives and pronouns (as well as limited evidence in nouns). For gender we have evidence in articles, adjectives and pronouns. In English the evidence for case and gender is restricted to pronouns.14 Criterion 3 draws the distinction between the two systems, German being largely canonical here and English clearly not. Russian: the six main case values are canonical in this respect. They are distinguished consistently across nouns, adjectives and pronouns. Criterion 4: Canonical features and their values are distinguished consistently across lexemes within relevant word classes.

.  Zaliznjak (1973: 84–86) and Mel’čuk (1986: 61) talk of ‘complete’ versus ‘partial’ case values, where a complete case value ‘embraces all nouns of a language throughout the whole paradigm’, while a partial case value ‘functions for a subset of the nouns or for a subset of the paradigms only’ (Mel’čuk 1986: 61). I separate out the notions of embracing all nouns and that of applying throughout the paradigm in criteria 4 and 2 respectively. .  For those who do not accept pronominal gender systems, as discussed in Corbett (1991: 169–170), the gender example is not relevant here, but the argument from case is clear. Numerous further examples of case systems where the inventories of different word classes differ can be found in Iggesen (2005).



Determining morphosyntactic feature values

In the canonical situation, given the morphosyntactic specification determined by the syntax and the word class (part of speech) of the target,15 no more is required. Each member of the word class marks the feature and all its values consistently. When more information is required, that is, when not all members of the word class behave consistently, deviations from the canonical situation may be seen in two different ways: 1.  In terms of level, the deviation may be in terms of the feature as a whole16 or only in terms of its values. Apart from a few indeclinables, any Russian adjective marks gender. In contrast, in Macedonian, while most adjectives mark gender and number, some mark number but do not mark gender (Friedman 1993: 266–267). That is, they do not mark the feature gender as a whole; it is not simply that they fail to distinguish particular values. Returning to case in Russian, we have already seen in (1) an instance of how different nouns can each mark case, but mark its different values to differing degrees. 2.  In terms of range, the deviation may affect different numbers of lexemes. The canonical situation is that each lexeme marks the feature and its values. Deviations may involve larger or smaller subclasses. We may find inflectional classes, which distinguish the particular feature and its values to varying degrees (as in point 1). There may be subclasses at various levels, right down to individual lexical exceptions. The latter may be overdifferentiated (marking ‘too many’ distinctions compared with the other members of their subclass) or they may show additional syncretism and so show too few distinctions. For such situations, approaches like that of Network Morphology (as in Corbett & Fraser 1993 and Evans, Brown & Corbett 2002), which rely on default inheritance, are particularly helpful, since they readily capture generalizations which apply to large classes and are overridden by specifications which are more and more restricted, right down to the idiosyncrasies of individual words. Moreover, this sort of deviation may be motivated to varying degrees. We may find that a distinction is available for, say, all animates (highly motivated), or at the other extreme that the distinction affects a number of lexical items each of which requires special indication in its lexical entry. The different types of non-canonicity of lexemes (such as marking too few or too many distinctions) are covered by our third principle below, namely that canonical morphosyntactic features and their values are expressed by canonical inflectional morphology. That principle is concerned with canonicity from .  Note that we refer to the ‘target’ since these criteria apply not just to case but more generally to morphosyntactic features. For case, the target is the governed item. .  This criterion takes up ‘lexical generality’, as in Bybee (1985: 84–86), and goes further in clearly distinguishing its application to features and to their values.



 Greville G. Corbett

the point of view of the lexeme. Here we take the perspective of the feature and its values, suggesting that a canonical feature will not be subject to the restrictions we are considering. To clarify, we can return to those Macedonian adjectives which, non-canonically, mark number but not gender. From the point of view of the lexeme (as in Principle III), it would be equally non-canonical to fail to distinguish gender or to fail to distinguish number (since both features are available to that word class). From the point of view of the features (Criterion 4), in respect of these Macedonian adjectives, number is more canonical than gender since there is a restriction on gender which number is exempt from. The essential point of this criterion, then, is that in the canonical situation it is sufficient to have a syntactic rule (of the type: in Polish ‘the preposition ku ‘towards’ requires the dative’) and the word class of the target (e.g., noun). Any requirement for additional information about the particular lexeme(s) making up the target is non-canonical. Russian: the main case values are close to canonical in this respect, since they are distinguished by almost all nouns, adjectives and pronouns. It is true that Russian has quite a high proportion of indeclinable nouns. These fail to inflect, but for number as for case, so that case values are not singled out here. These indeclinables lack morphological case, but can occupy syntactic slots appropriate for the different case values. Principle II: The use of canonical morphosyntactic features and their values is determined by simple syntactic rules. This principle is vital for the interface between syntax and morphology. An important part of being ‘simple’ is that syntax is ‘morphology-free’ (Zwicky 1996: 301). That is, the rules of syntax do not have access to purely morphological features, such as inflectional class. Here we part company with Zaliznjak, who rightly points to the issue of the complexity of the rules of government, but suggests that it is not significant whether we have simpler rules of government and a larger inventory of cases, or more complex rules and fewer cases (1973: 67). Specifically, non-autonomous cases can be eliminated by a rule of government which distinguishes between subclasses of noun. We accept such a possibility when the subclasses are semantically defined, but exclude the possibility of rules of government referring to inflectional classes. Russian: here we find all the main values of case are largely canonical, though again with some surprising divergences.

Criterion 5: The use of canonical morphosyntactic features and their values is obligatory.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values

This is a well-known and important criterion. It is highlighted by Jakobson; in his discussion of Boas (1938: 132–133) Jakobson produced the famous quote: ‘Thus the true difference between languages is not in what may or may not be expressed but in what must or must not be conveyed by the speakers.’ (1959/1971: 492)17 With regard to case, in the canonical situation case is required. In Russian any noun must be in some case, and so if there is a nominal form with no overt marker, this will still be interpreted as having a specific case value (the particular value will depend on the paradigm, see the forms of the nominative/accusative singular of inflectional class I in (1), and the genitive plural of inflectional class II). The bare stem will not be interpreted as being outside the case system. Similarly, from the point of view of the governor, in the canonical situation a governor requires a particular case value (for instance, Russian k ‘towards’ takes the dative’, and there is no more to be said). However, there is a more subtle problem lurking here. Where there is some degree of optionality, it is not straightforward, when trying to define case, to avoid admitting additional case values such as the ‘nominative/instrumental’. Given a copula verb like byt’ ‘be’, in the past or future, a predicate nominal may be in the nominative or instrumental case. As Zaliznjak (1973:  62) says, no grammar of Russian posits a composite case here; to avoid this, he has a stipulation which has the effect of eliminating cases that would arise from choices between otherwise established cases.18 Our criterion has the effect of making such choices noncanonical.19 Russian: it is certainly true that the use of the main six case values is obligatory.

.  Note that Mel’čuk (1960/1974) discusses this criterion and in (1974: 111) points out that he, Mel’čuk, wrote the article in 1958; before seeing Jakobson’s article. Percov (1996: 40, 2001: 71) traces the history of the notion back through Jakobson to Boas and before him to Maspero (1934: 35). However, I think Jakobson is right to give primacy to Boas, since the idea can be also found in Boas (1911: 35–43, especially 40–43). .  And the problem caused by optionality becomes worse, since once we had a second locative, we would also have to allow for a composite locative/second locative for those nouns which have an optional second locative. .  Michael Daniel points out (personal communication) that we might analyse such case choices as reflecting slightly different diagnostic contexts (in the sense discussed in §2). This approach would entail making context a gradient notion. The contexts envisaged in §2 could be distinguished by straightforward syntactic tests, and unproblematic speaker judgements, while the case choices like nominative versus instrumental in the nominal predicate cannot. Thus it seems appropriate to treat such choices differently, and to consider them non-canonical. For discussion of some problems connected with the criterion see Maslova (1994).



 Greville G. Corbett

Criterion 6: Canonical use of morphosyntactic features and their values does not admit syntactic conditions. Canonically there is a syntactic rule (‘mark the direct object with the accusative’) but no additional syntactic conditions. Russian: there are instances of non-canonicity. Thus a possible condition might involve word order; and indeed topicalization affects the use of accusative or genitive for the direct object negated verbs (Timberlake 1975: 126).20 Criterion 7: Canonical use of morphosyntactic features and their values does not admit semantic conditions. If only semantics were involved we would have instead a morphosemantic feature, as we find, for instance, in local cases – notably in Daghestanian languages. Here we are concerned with features and values that are genuinely morphosyntactic in nature. The sort of condition that would give non-canonicity would be case marking for objects being conditioned by whether the object was definite or not. Russian: the choice of case values for negated objects is an example here (Timberlake 1975: 125). Similarly the nominal predicate with copular and semi-copular verbs may be in the nominative or instrumental. The conditions on these choices are numerous, and complex, and have changed considerably over the last two centuries Criterion 8: Canonical use of morphosyntactic features and their values does not admit lexical conditions from the target (governee). While Criterion 4 was concerned with whether marking was possible or not, here we assume that case is marked, and ask whether there can be further lexical conditions. The Russian preposition po (whose meaning is too wide to give a gloss for), allows surprising conditions, which have been changing over the recent past. Significantly for our purposes, different numerals stand in different cases when governed by po (Comrie, Stone & Polinsky 1996: 153–154 and references there). In other uses po takes the dative, but with the meaning ‘after’ it may take the locative,

.  The conditions considered in criteria 6–9 could in principle be absolute or relative. If they were always relative, allowing some degree of optionality, they could be treated as sub-instances of criterion 5, which specifies that the canonical use of features and their values is obligatory. The conditions noted in criteria 6–9 are treated separately since they can be absolute, and so do not necessarily come under criterion 5. They can apply to other morphosyntactic features too: thus the values of the number feature in agreement are also subject to word-order conditions (Corbett 2006: 179).



Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

and according to Comrie (1991: 50) these collocations are largely lexicalized, another instance of non-canonical case government. For more on the various government possibilities of po see Iomdin (1991). This criterion can be seen as relating to lexical semantics (while criterion 7 relates to semantics not specific to the lexeme). One way of thinking of criterion 8 is to say that in canonical use one can combine the lexical meaning of the lexeme and the grammatical meaning of the feature value in a compositional fashion. In Russian the instrumental (without preposition) can be used to indicate the time of an event, but provided the governed noun denotes a part of the day, or a season of the year. This constraint from the lexical semantics of the noun is  noncanonical.21 Russian: under this latter interpretation, the six main case values have many fully canonical uses. However, there are also several instances of conditions, particularly for temporal expressions, which are non-canonical in this respect. Criterion 9: Canonical use of morphosyntactic features and their values does not admit additional lexical conditions from the controller (governor). The idea is that in the canonical situation the controller has a single requirement (e.g., it governs the dative). Additional conditions from this source are not canonical. Russian: the main six case values are largely canonical in this respect, but we find some instances of non-canonicity. Thus verbs normally take their subject in the nominative, irrespective of polarity. Just a few verbs, however, can have a genitive subject, but only when negated. Depending on the analysis of these constructions, we might consider this as an additional condition from the governor. (2) pisem ne prixodi-l-o letter.pl.gen neg come-pst-n.sg ‘noˉlettersˉcame’

The verbs must be lexically specified, and they govern the genitive only when negated.

.  Examples which are not canonical in this regard are not restricted to case. While for many nouns the plural is in a fully straightforward relationship to the singular, there are some where the plural has rather specific meanings (see, for instance, Plungian (1997) on vremja ‘time’ and vremena ‘times’ in Russian).

 Greville G. Corbett

Criterion 10:  The use of canonical morphosyntactic features and their values is sufficient (they are independent). In canonical instances, features and their values can stand alone. Russian: five of the main case values of Russian are canonical in this respect: each can stand alone to fill various syntactic slots. Thus the dative can signal the indirect object. Only the locative is non-canonical in this respect, since it can occur only together with a preposition. Principle III: Canonical morphosyntactic features and their values are expressed by canonical inflectional morphology. This principle covers a whole set of criteria, which we should have in mind but need not consider in detail (they are specified in Corbett (2007b)).22 In brief, a canonical system has a one-to-one correspondence between form and function. To discuss canonicity of lexemes, we rely on the preceding analysis, since it presupposes that the features and their values are established for the language under investigation. Given the inventory of the features and their values we can ‘multiply’ them together, to give the possible cells in a paradigm. Thus if we find six cases and two numbers in the nominal system, the paradigm of a noun should have twelve cells. And then, to be canonical, a paradigm has to be ‘consistent’, according to these requirements:

(3) Canonicalˉinflection

composition/structure (of the   inflected word) lexical material (≈shape of stem) inflectional material (≈shape of   inflection) outcome (≈shape of inflected word)

comparison across cells of a lexeme

comparison across lexemes

same

same

same different

different same

different

different

This schema has two levels of comparison. At the first level, we start from the abstract paradigm (matrix) obtained by multiplying out the features and their

.  Since we are dealing with Russian, we have assumed that we are indeed dealing with bona fide inflection. For some languages this would be a serious issue for establishing whether we were dealing with a case feature or not.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values

values, and we examine any one lexeme fitted into this paradigm. The middle column involves comparing cell with cell, within a single lexeme. We consider the composition and structure of the cells (left column): if the first consists of a stem and a suffix, for this lexeme to have a canonical paradigm, every other cell must be the ‘same’ in this regard. Finding a prefix or any different means of exponence would indicate non-canonicity. In terms of the lexical material in the cell, identity is required (there should be no change to the stem). On the other hand, the inflectional material ‘should’ be different in every cell. The canonical outcome for such a lexeme, as shown in the last row, is that every cell in its paradigm will realize the morphosyntactic specification in a way distinct from that of every other cell. The second level of comparison (given in the right column) involves a comparison of lexemes one with another. In a canonical system, the composition and structure of each cell remains the same, when we compare across lexemes. Naturally we require that the lexical information be different for different lexemes. However, in the canonical situation, the inflectional material is identical. That is, if our first lexeme marks genitive plural in -a-t, so does every other. The overall outcome is that every cell of every lexeme is distinct. Inflection of this canonical type would make perfect sense in functional terms. Every morphosyntactic distinction is drawn unambiguously, for a small amount of phonological material. In real inflectional morphology we find great divergence from the canonical situation. Russian alone would be sufficient to show numerous divergences. The point of the canonical scheme is to provide a clear measure against which we can view such complex systems. This schema makes inflectional classes non-canonical, but still allows for cumulation. Cumulation arises from intersecting features and it is appropriately criterion 2, relating to features, which makes cumulation non-canonical in comparison to agglutination (criterion 2 states that canonical features and their values are uniquely distinguishable across other logically compatible features and their values). Russian: if we apply this principle to Russian, we see that the expression of case is through non-canonical morphology in many instances. However, this is only a reflection of the fusional morphology of Russian. Case values are no less canonically realized than the other feature values with which case interacts; case values are if anything more canonical in this respect. To conclude this section we may say that the six main case values justify the traditional perception of them as full cases. However, they are not equally canonical. The canonical view gives a new view on what for some will be very familiar data, and this view highlights the disparities between the six main case values.



 Greville G. Corbett

4.  The more problematic case values in Russian We now turn to the more problematic case values. While there are discussions in the literature of individual difficult values, for instance, the instrumental in Latvian or the locative in Latin, it is truly remarkable that one language should have a system with so many problematic case values. We present the essential data for each case value in turn, and only then go on to the issue of canonicity (§5). 4.1  Vocative The vocative is of special interest, because it includes fossilized remnants of an old vocative and the development of a new one. There are the old forms Bože ‘O God’, Gospodi ‘O Lord’, which are distinct vocative forms, used for invocation. Then the new forms are those like Nataš ‘Natasha!’, Pet’ ‘Petya!’, mam ‘Mummy!’ and so on. The new vocative is optional, the nominative always being an alternative. These new vocative forms are reported from the early 20th century, but they appear to have become more frequent in the second half of the century (Comrie, Stone & Polinsky 1996: 132, and references there). It is sometimes stated that the new vocative is available only for nouns in inflectional class II (see (1)), and with the ending -a being unstressed, and that it is found only in the singular. However, there are several facts which suggest a different account. First, rebjata, which is hard to translate, but means something like ‘lads, guys’, is used only in the plural, having become split over time from its original singular rebenok ‘child’ (see Chumakina, Hippisley & Corbett 2004 for an account of this development). This has the vocative rebjat ‘lads!’, though it is not from inflectional class II, and it is plural. This suggests a truncation, based on the nominative. There is also devčat ‘girls!’ from devčata. A second remarkable point about the new vocative is that it defies a regular rule of Russian, that final consonants are not voiced. Thus gorod ‘town’ is pronounced with final [t], the [d] being evident when there is an inflection so that the consonant is not final. The new vocative can defy this constraint, in a gradient way (devoicing may be absent or partial); see Daniel and Spencer (forthcoming) for this point, citing Panov (1997: 108–110), and Daniel (in press) for interesting discussion of vocatives in general. A third point, noted by Koval’ (2004: §5), following Klobukov (1986: 21), is that for some speakers there is a vocative of words ending in a -CCa cluster, where the vocative differs from the bare stem. Thus some accept the vocative Mišk from Miška (diminutive form of Mixail); this vocative differs from the bare stem: when the bare stem is used as a genitive plural, a ‘fleeting vowel’ is required giving Mišek. All these facts point towards truncation of the nominative, as worked out in Yadroff (1996). (See also Floricic 2002: 160–162 for further references, and Mel’čuk 2006: 503–504.)



Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

The fact that for some nouns the vocative has this otherwise impossible shape, without devoicing, means here there is particular autonomy of form (as discussed by Koval’ 2004: §5). 4.2  Second genitive The second genitive is a stark challenge for attempts to determine the number of cases of Russian (see Zaliznjak 1973; Worth 1984; and Comrie 1986).23 Contrast these forms of kisel’ ‘kissel’ (a thickened fruit drink) and čaj ‘tea’. Both are members of inflectional class I (they vary somewhat from the forms in (1), but in predictable ways), and as expected both have the normal (first) genitive: (4) vkus kiselj-a taste[sg.nom] kissel-sg.gen ‘theˉtasteˉofˉkissel’ (5) vkus čaj-a taste[sg.nom] tea-sg.gen ‘theˉtasteˉofˉtea’

We find a contrast, however, in certain partitive expressions: (6) stakan kiselj-a glass[sg.nom] kissel-sg.gen ‘aˉglassˉofˉkissel’ (7) stakan čaj-u glass[sg.nom] tea-sg.gen2 ‘aˉglassˉofˉtea’

In contemporary Russian, in the active use of the speakers I have consulted, kisel’ ‘kissel’ is an example of a regular noun, while čaj ‘tea’ is one of the subclass which has a separate second genitive. The number of nouns with this second genitive is restricted and declining.24 They are all members of the inflectional class I. Of the .  This material on the second genitive is presented in Corbett (forthcoming), in the context of a discussion of ‘higher order irregularity’, where it is pointed out that the Russian second genitive shows the rather unexpected interaction of overdifferentiation and syncretism. .  Ilola & Mustajoki (1989: 41–41) reporting on Zaliznjak (1977), identify 396. However, the form has been in decline, continuing since the publication of Zalizjak’s dictionary. Our example helps show this: kisel’ ‘kissel’ is given by Zaliznjak as having a second genitive, but consultants do not offer this form. Google gives over 200 examples of stakan kiselja ‘glass of kissel’ and none of stakan kiselju; however, other web searches reveal occasional sporadic instances of kiselju as a second genitive. This noun has almost lost its second genitive, but not quite. For further discus-

 Greville G. Corbett

nouns which have a second genitive, for some the second genitive is normally used in partitive expressions, for the others the second genitive is a possibility, but in competition with the ordinary genitive; for data on this see Panov (1968: 180), Graudina, Ickovič & Katlinskaja (1976: 121–125), Comrie, Stone & Polinsky (1996: 124–125), and especially Paus (1994). Thus the second genitive varies from being normally used, to being optional, to unusual – according to the particular lexical item. The form itself is of interest too, as these partial paradigms show:

(8) Russianˉpartialˉsingularˉparadigms nominative

kisel’

čaj

genitive genitive 2 dative

kiselja as genitive kiselju

čaja čaju čaju

The ‘extra’ form of čaj ‘tea’, the second genitive, is syncretic with the dative. There is no unique form for it. We cannot consign the problem to syntax by claiming that the form used is the dative, since any modifiers marked for case are indeed genitive. This is not obvious, since in the modern language – at least for some speakers – the inclusion of an agreeing modifier disfavours the use of the second genitive; instead the ordinary genitive is more likely: (9) stakan krepk-ogo čaj-a glass[sg.nom] strong-m.sg.gen tea(m)-sg.gen ‘aˉglassˉofˉstrongˉtea’

Here the presence of the modifier krepk-ogo ‘strong-m.sg.gen’ seems to make it more likely, for some speakers at least, that the ordinary genitive čaja will be used.25 However, in those instances where the noun stands in the less likely second genitive in an expression similar to (9) genitive agreement is still required. Thus krepkogo čaju ‘strong tea’ is possible as a second genitive. Thus the distributional test shows that we have to distinguish the second genitive from other forms. Just to be sure, we check what happens if we put the attributive modifier in the dative:

sion of the second genitive see Wierzbicka (1983: 249–252), Uspenskij (2004: 11–26) and for a recent analysis of the second genitive in the Russian National Corpus see Brehmer (2006). .  A further syntactic restriction is suggested by Irina Nikolaeva (personal communication), namely that the head noun (stakan ‘glass’ or similar) should be in a direct case. Speakers vary here, but some have are unwilling, or less willing, to accept a second genitive when the head is in an oblique case. Initial corpus investigation supports this intuition.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

(10) krepk-omu čaj-u strong-m.sg.dat tea(m)-sg.dat ‘strongˉtea’

(10) can be used only in syntactic positions where a dative is required. It is not a second genitive, and could not be used in (9). The problem is therefore a morphological one and not a syntactic issue: second genitives are not syntactic datives. To sum up: the issues presented by the second genitive are that it has a unique distribution but no unique form; it is available with a relatively small number of nouns, and with these its degree of optionality varies considerably; it may be subject to the syntactic condition that modifiers intervening between the governor and the noun in the genitive disfavour the second genitive.26 4.3  Second locative Russian has a locative case, often called the prepositional case because it occurs only together with a preposition (v ‘in’, na ‘on’, o ‘about, concerning’, or pri ‘by, at, attached to, in the time of ’, and rarely with po, as noted in §3, discussion of criterion 8). Examples would be v žurnale ‘in the magazine’ and v komnate ‘in the room’. For many nouns (including those of inflectional class I, like žurnal ‘magazine’) the locative has a distinct form in the singular, and for all inflecting nouns the locative is distinct in the plural. For our purposes the second locative is of greater interest. It is restricted in several ways. It occurs only with v ‘in’ and na ‘on’, primarily when used in their basic locative or temporal sense, and not with the other two prepositions which take the locative.27 It is distinguished only in the singular, and for relatively small groups of nouns. However, these are of different inflectional classes, and within the first inflectional class there are nouns belonging to different subclasses which have the second locative.28 Second locatives are always stressed on the inflection: e.g., v sadú ‘in the garden’; similarly for nouns of inflectional class III. This is important when considering whether there are unique forms. For inflectional class I, which

.  While following Jakobson (1958) in accepting a second genitive and a second locative, we do not also have to decompose the cases, and to accept Jakobson’s famous representation in the form of a cube. We may agree with Worth (1984: 298) that ‘the cube was an enticing mistake’. .  See Thorndahl (1974), Brown (2007) and references there, for the development of the second locative, and see Plungian (2002) for recent discussion of its semantics. .  Thus sad ‘garden’ and les ‘forest’ form the nominative plural differently (sady but lesa), but both have the second locative (sadú and lesú).

 Greville G. Corbett

has most of the nouns with a second locative, the -u inflection is shared with the dative, but the forms are normally distinct, the second locative being stressed on the inflection and the dative singular typically being stressed on the stem (for those nouns with a second locative). In inflectional class III there are also nouns with the second locative, for example v kroví ‘in blood’ (covered in blood). The inflection is the same as for the dative singular and for the normal locative singular; these two have stem stress, while the second locative is stressed on the inflection. It is limited too in the number of nouns which have it: (11) Nounsˉwithˉtheˉsecondˉlocativeˉ(Ilolaˉ&ˉMustajokiˉ(1989: 42– 43)29 fromˉZaliznjakˉ(1977)30 inflectional class

example

I III

na beregú ‘on the bank’ v stepí ‘in the steppe’

nouns with second locative available

of these, second locative optional

128 31

33 8

For some nouns (in locative contexts) the second locative is obligatory: it has to be v sadú ‘in the garden’ (and not *v sade). For some nouns it is only optional. The number of nouns involved is declining. The restrictions continue in that the second locative, like the second genitive, has special forms only for nouns. When case is marked on other word classes, notably adjectives, the forms are as for the normal locative: (12) my by-l-i v star-om sad-u 1pl be-pst-pl in old-m.sg.loc garden-loc.2 ‘weˉwereˉinˉanˉoldˉgarden’ (13) my razgovariva-l-i o star-om sad-e 1pl converse-pst-pl about old-m.sg.loc garden-loc ‘weˉwereˉtalkingˉaboutˉanˉoldˉgarden’

The adjective is identical, for the second locative in (12) and the normal locative in (13). Unlike the second genitive, there is no difficulty with including adjectives in

.  Brown (2007) reports similar but slightly lower figures, and adds interesting information on frequency. The form is in decline and so published figures tend to be overestimates of its use. .  Zaliznjak also includes v zabyt’í ‘in oblivion’ and v poluzabyt’í ‘in semiconsciousness’ (Zaliznjak 1967/2002:  287), and does not mark these as optional. However, Plungian (2002) states that the distinction is largely lost for these two nouns, with one or other form (in -e or in -í) being generalized for all uses. This view is adopted in the 2003 revision of Zaliznjak’s dictionary.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

such phrases. And as Brown (2007) demonstrates, such modifiers are not restricted to set phrases. Speakers are fully comfortable with new expressions. How then should we treat the second locative? Brown (2007) draws the analogy with sub-genders, specifically the animate/inanimate sub-genders of Russian. These are distinct for a small proportion of the available paradigm cells. The same is certainly true of the second locative (and is equally true of the second genitive). This particular sort of non-canonicity has a satisfying account. Brown’s solution is to treat the second locative as a ‘structured’ case (1998: 198–200). In his Network Morphology analysis, which relies heavily on the notion of defaults, the default realization of the second locative will be as the normal locative (this default is overridden for the relative few nouns with a distinct second locative). Inflectional morphology in this model is specified according to ordered paths, where more specific information is ordered after more general. For instance the specification of the ordinary locative singular may be given as:31 (14) 〈singular locative〉

This ordering is justified by the fact that some nouns have different stems for singular and plural (and these are specified within the lexical entry), while none have a special stem for locative. Then the specification of the second locative is an extension of this path: (15) 〈singular locative

locative2〉

The effect is that when the second locative is ‘required’ by the preposition, if the noun has a form matching the specification (15) completely, this is the appropriate form. If not, by default, the closest matching path specifies the form, and that path is as in (14). This latter will always occur with adjectives, which Brown covers elegantly with no extra machinery. The analysis in effect says that all nouns have a second locative, but very few nouns really do. Two important points need to be made here. First, Brown’s solution for this particular type of non-canonicity is not just an elegant idea. It is worked out as a full implementation within Network Morphology (one of the inferentialrealizational approaches). Brown’s implementation gives the right outcomes and others can test it to ensure that it is indeed a valid analysis (the fragment is provided in Brown 1998). And second, it develops an idea found in Comrie (1991: 102), that

.  Brown (1998, 2007) uses ‘prepositional’ and ‘locative’ rather than ‘locative’ and ‘locative2’; the labels are not important here, and I have retained locative and locative2 for consistency in the text.

 Greville G. Corbett

of having a hierarchical feature analysis for the second cases,32 one which captures the specific nature of these case values and does not involve invoking other artificial features for other case values. 4.4  The ‘adnumerative’ The loss of the dual has left strange remnants scattered across Slavonic. Few are stranger than the adnumerative. The ‘normal’ situation in Russian is that the numerals dva ‘two’, tri ‘three’, četyre ‘four’ (as well as oba ‘both’, poltora ‘one and a half ’, pol ‘half ’ in compounds, for the latter see Billings 1998), provided they are in the nominative case (or the accusative and are quantifying an inanimate) take a noun in the genitive singular. For example, dva žurnala ‘two magazines’, where žurnal is in the genitive singular as in cena žurnala ‘the price of the magazine’. An extremely small number of nouns have a special form in these circumstances. They are in inflectional class I, and the form is distinguished by stress only. Thus dva časá ‘two hours, two o’clock’ shows the special ‘adnumerative’, in contrast with okolo čása ‘about an hour’ with the normal genitive singular. The restrictions, in addition to those alluded to already, are severe. The nouns which have the form are: čas ‘hour’, šag ‘step, pace’, šar ‘ball, sphere’, rjad ‘row’, sled ‘footprint’. (Zaliznjak (1977) gives the form as being optional with šar ‘ball, sphere’ and sled ‘footprint’, while Mel’čuk (1985: 431–432) implies that it is optional for more of them.) The use of the form is best maintained with čas ‘hour’. Mel’čuk (1985: 430–437) offers interesting discussion, and suggests that with the nouns for which the adnumerative is not obligatory, an intervening modifier requires the use of the ordinary genitive (1985: 432): (16) *dva širok-ix šag-áˉ(šágaˉisˉrequired,ˉaccordingˉtoˉMel’čuk) two.nom wide-pl.gen step-adnumerative ‘twoˉwideˉsteps’

The feature specification of the modifier (genitive plural) is perhaps surprising; however, this form can be used both with nouns with the adnumerative where a modifier occurs (Mel’čuk (1985: 433) and for those nouns without an adnumerative, which would stand in the genitive singular. For details of the choice between genitive plural and nominative plural for the modifier in comparable phrases see Corbett (1993). Returning to the adnumerative, we should still ask if it is a case value. It appears to be a rather odd combination of case and number. As Zaliznjak (1967/2002: 47)

.  Brown discusses the locative and Comrie the genitive, but in both instances the account generalizes to both second cases.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

says, it is special as a case in being available only in the singular.33 In its favour, it has a unique form. Furthermore, Russian numerals typically govern a case, while the number of the noun is limited (generally it must be plural but with lower numerals singular), and so the adnumerative fits into this pattern. The adnumerative seems to be on the extreme edge of what could be included as a case value. 4.5  The ‘inclusive’ This case was suggested by Zaliznjak (1967/2002: 50), as one possible analysis to account for expressions of the type idti v letčiki ‘to become a pilot’. These expressions are particularly challenging for synchronic analysis. There is helpful initial discussion in Zaliznjak (1967/2002: 50–52), and careful consideration of various alternatives in Mel’čuk (1978/1985:  461–489). After reviewing the evidence we shall conclude, with Mel’čuk that there is no need to postulate an additional case here, but that the considerable problems lie elsewhere. The essential problem with expressions like idti v letčiki ‘to become a pilot’ is the form of the noun letčiki. This has the apparent form of the nominative plural. However, the preposition v ‘in(to)’ takes the accusative or the locative. The accusative plural of animate nouns like letčik ‘pilot’ is as the genitive, that is, letčikov. This is a fully general syncretic pattern in Russian: all animate nouns in the plural have accusative as genitive, while all inanimates in the plural have accusative as nominative. Thus the nominal form in the expression above cannot be accounted for by the normal rules, and Zaliznjak proposes an additional case as a result. Of course, it is tempting to say that we are dealing merely with a set phrase. But that simply will not do. There are some one hundred verbs with the appropriate semantics to take the place of idti ‘go’ in the first syntactic ‘slot’, and even some nouns, like kandidat ‘candidate’ (Mel’čuk 1985: 461). Moreover, any animate noun can in principle take the place of letčiki ‘pilots’ in the third slot (though it is usually those denoting professions or social groupings). What is constant is that these expressions always involve becoming something. The two formal requirements are the preposition v, which normally means ‘in(to)’ and that the noun following the preposition must be in the plural. Interestingly, this requirement is maintained

.  Mel’čuk (1985: 430–431) argues that forms used with particular nouns (including suppletion in two instances) in the plural, when quantified by higher numerals (those above ‘four’ as in the examples discussed above), should also be considered instances of the adnumerative. For instance, dvenadcat’ čelovek ‘twelve people’ not *dvenadcat’ ljudej ‘twelve people’. I do not find the argument convincing, but nevertheless urge the reader to check Mel’čuk’s reasoning independently. The issue is difficult.

 Greville G. Corbett

even when semantically it makes no apparent sense, as in this example (Mel’čuk 1985: 465): (17)

Derjagin pro-lez v sekretar-i Derjagin[nom] through-climb[pst.sg.m] into secretary-pl naš-ego partbjuro our-n.sg.gen party.office34 ‘Derjaginˉwormedˉhisˉwayˉintoˉbeingˉsecretaryˉofˉourˉpartyˉoffice.’

The point is that there is only one secretary, but still the plural is required here. Mel’čuk (1985:  462) rejects Zaliznjak’s additional case here, on the grounds that it is being postulated on the basis of a single rather specific construction. That is reasonable, provided an alternative analysis can be given. There are two options, either nouns like letčiki ‘pilots’ in such expressions are in the nominative or they are in the accusative. The nominative option has the advantage of simplicity, in that the form in the expression matches the normal nominative form. However, Mel’čuk produces three specific arguments against this option. To take just one, he points out that idti v soldaty ‘to become a soldier’ has a near synonym in idti v armiju ‘to join the army’ and here armiju is indisputably in the accusative. Mel’čuk also gives what he calls a metapravilo ‘metarule’, namely that in Russian prepositions never govern the nominative. (There are other potential instances of prepositions governing the nominative in Russian, Zaliznjak 1967/2002:  51n23, but Mel’čuk 1985:  438–452 has alternative analyses for these too.) Apart from the problematic instances in question, Russian prepositions govern all cases but the nominative. Mel’čuk is keen to maintain that generalization, though another linguist might look precisely for a preposition governing the nominative to complete the set. I agree with Mel’čuk that this construction is not sufficient to override the generalization. Thus Mel’čuk takes the second option, and claims that letčiki and similar nouns are in the accusative case. This seems an odd claim at first, since the normal accusative is letčikov (as the genitive). Mel’čuk argues that in this construction the preposition v requires the governed noun phrase to be in the plural and to be inanimate. Since the inanimate accusative is as the nominative, this would give the right form. This solution has the great advantage of pinning the unusual behaviour precisely on the preposition v in this construction (and avoids not only postulating an extra case, but also doubling up of lexical entries). It is a remarkable requirement of a preposition, however. .  This noun is indeclinable. Note that not all Russian speakers share Mel’čuk’s intuition concerning this example; some find it strange if našego ‘our’ is included, which highlights the fact that there is just one post.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

There is a further very interesting complication. In this construction the noun phrases are not fully inanimate. In attributive position, we find inanimate agreement forms (Mel’čuk 1985: 466): (18) ˉ…ˉpopa-l v starš-ie inžener-y. (notˉ*starš-ix) ˉ…ˉget.pst[sg.m] into chief-pl engineer-pl *chiefˉ-pl.acc=gen ‘(he)ˉmadeˉitˉtoˉchiefˉengineer’

Here the form staršie ‘chief ’ can be treated as being in the accusative, identical to the nominative, which is what we find with inanimates. The form *staršix, with accusative identical to genitive, as for animates, is unacceptable. In relative pronoun position, however, we find animate agreement (Igor Mel’čuk personal communication):35 (19) ˉ…ˉpro-lez v sekretari partbjuro, ˉ…ˉthrough-climb[pst.sg.m] into secretary-pl party.office kakov-yx u nas preziraj-ut which-pl with 1pl.gen despise-3pl ‘…ˉwormedˉhisˉwayˉintoˉbeingˉsecretaryˉofˉtheˉpartyˉoffice,ˉwhichˉ(sort)ˉ we despise’

Here the form kakovyx is accusative as genitive, marking animacy; the accusativenominative (inanimate) *kakovye is not accepted. Mel’čuk gives other examples of such splits in animacy; the restriction to the accusative case together with the fact that personal pronouns always show accusative-genitive syncretism means that only two distinct agreement positions are available for us to test (attributive and relative pronoun). In this limited sense, all Mel’čuk’s examples are in accord with the Agreement Hierarchy (Corbett 2006:  206–237) in that we find syntactically justified forms in attributive position, contrasted with semantically justified forms of the relative pronoun. As Mel’čuk points out, the basic idea can be found in Rothstein, who writes: The mechanism of the metonymy here involves changing of a single lexical feature specification from [+animate] (or more likely from [+human], which implies [+animate]) to [–animate].’[footnote omitted] (1977: 98).

Mel’čuk traces the idea back to Vinogradov (1947:  165), but the careful argumentation is all Mel’čuk’s. There is later discussion in Bílý (1988) and Uspenskij (2004: 27–38).

.  The example is modified from that in Mel’čuk (1985:  466) to avoid the complication of animacy in the original example. Mel’čuk’s judgement on the example remains the same.

 Greville G. Corbett

To conclude this particular part of the discussion, we may say that these expressions are challenging and fascinating, but that following Mel’čuk (and disagreeing with Zaliznjak) there is no need to postulate a separate case to account for them. 5.  A canonical view of the problematic case values of Russian Since we have eliminated the potential ‘inclusive case’, this leaves four problematic case values to consider in terms of canonicity. These are the vocative (presented in §4.1 above), the second genitive (§4.2), the second locative (§4.3) and the adnumerative (§4.4). We therefore return to the criteria for canonicity, and assess these four case values. Principle I: Features and their values are clearly distinguished by formal means. The case values we are considering show largely non-canonical behaviour with respect to the criteria which fall under Principle I. Criterion 1: Canonical features and their values have a unique form. The value which is non-canonical here is the second genitive, whose form is always the same as that of the dative. Criterion 2: Canonical features and their values are uniquely distinguishable across other features and their values. Here all the values under discussion are non-canonical: each of them is restricted to one number (almost exclusively the singular).36 Criterion 3: Canonical features and their values are distinguished consistently across relevant word classes. Again all four values are non-canonical here, since they are restricted to nouns, while case is a feature also of adjectives and pronouns in Russian. Criterion 4: Canonical features and their values are distinguished consistently across lexemes within relevant word classes.

.  Two provisos are in order here. First, recall that Mel’čuk (1985: 430) claims that the adnumerative is found in the plural too. For this criterion, however, the effect would not change, since any given noun has an adnumerative only for the singular or for the plural. Second there are the vocatives rebjat ‘lads!’ and devčat ‘girls!’, formed from original plurals; again the effect does not change since there is no corresponding singular vocative for these items.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

Here all four values are non-canonical.37 We noted that each is dramatically restricted in the nouns which can mark it. This is particularly true of the adnumerative, available for only a handful of nouns. Principle II:  The use of canonical morphosyntactic features and their values is determined by simple syntactic rules. Once again, in different ways, the four values under discussion show noncanonicity for the criteria which fall under this principle. Criterion 5: The use of canonical morphosyntactic features and their values is obligatory. The new vocative is optional (the nominative is available for this function). The remaining three values are optional for at least some of the nouns which have them. Criterion 6: Canonical use of morphosyntactic features and their values does not admit syntactic conditions. As we noted in §4.2, the second genitive is disfavoured if there is a modifier with the noun. We saw a similar issue with the adnumerative in §4.4. This is another non-canonical aspect of these two case values. Criterion 7: Canonical use of morphosyntactic features and their values does not admit semantic conditions. Here the second locative is non-canonical. We have already noted that its use is restricted to two particular prepositions. Furthermore, they must be used in a locational sense. Thus the second locative na mostú ‘on the bridge’ is normal, in the locational sense.38 Plungian (2002) argues further that the second locative is used particularly (though not exclusively) for instances of ‘strict’ localization. This is just one reflection of treating syntactic uses of case values as canonical, as opposed to semantic uses.

.  Isačenko (1962: 82) believes that neither the second genitive nor the second locative should be recognized as cases, since too few nouns have the forms; perhaps treating these case values rather as non-canonical is preferable to a black/white decision. .  With non-locational expressions the picture is complex: for some speakers, the normal locative is available for expressions like ja nastaivaju na moste ‘I insist on a bridge’ (as opposed to a ford or a tunnel, for instance), while others find this awkward or even unacceptable. The important point is that the choice is na moste for some speakers, or avoiding the form for others; no speaker offered na mostu ‘on a bridge’ using the second locative here.

 Greville G. Corbett

Criterion 8: Canonical use of morphosyntactic features and their values does not admit lexical conditions from the target. There is no problem here. There are issues as to which nouns have the case values in question, but we have not noted any further lexical conditions. The type of condition discussed under criterion 8 in §3 involving different case values determined by the particular governee is not found with the problematic case values. Criterion 9: Canonical use of morphosyntactic features and their values does not admit additional conditions from the controller (governor). The idea is that the controller should have a single, simple requirement (e.g., dative). The adnumerative is non-canonical here, since the few controllers that govern it have an additional condition: the controller must stand in the nominative (or the accusative identical to the nominative as occurs when the governed noun is inanimate). This is seen in the following contrast: (20) dva čas-á two.nom hour-adnumerative ‘twoˉo’clock’ (21) k dvum čas-am by two.dat hour-pl.dat ‘byˉtwoˉo’clock’

In this respect the adnumerative is again non-canonical.39 Criterion 10: The use of canonical morphosyntactic features and their values is sufficient (they are independent). Just as the first locative, the second locative is non-canonical in this respect. So too is the adnumerative, since it is available only together with one of the small list of quantifiers which governs it. Thus the adnumerative časá ‘hour’ cannot be used on its own (without a quantifier) to mean ‘two-four hours’. (For this reason, alternative terms like ‘paucal’ are better avoided.) Principle III:  Canonical morphosyntactic features and their values are expressed by canonical inflectional morphology.

.  The syntax of Russian quantified expressions is well known for its complexity. Other numeral expressions also have matching in case values in the obliques; however, the case values involved all have numerous other uses outside quantified expression. The adnumerative is non-canonical in that it is available only according to the constraint imposed by quantified expressions.



Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

As we noted earlier, there are several deviations from canonicity, but most of these are not significantly different from those found with the main cases. The one that stands out is the new vocative, formed by truncation. This is highly noncanonical since this device is not used to mark case elsewhere in the paradigms under discussion. (22) Summary of non-canonical characteristics of the problematic case values criterion (and brief description) 1. d  edicated form (autonomous) 2. distinguishable across other features and values 3. distinguished consistently across relevant word classes 4. distinguished consistently across lexemes 5. obligatory 6. no syntactic conditions 7. no semantic conditions 8. n  o lexical conditions from the governee 9. n  o additional lexical conditions from the governor 10. u  se is sufficient (features/ values are independent)

vocative

second genitive second locative adnumerative X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

(X) X

(X)

(X) X

X

X

X

X

In (22), X indicates non-canonical behaviour, and (X) somewhat non-canonical behaviour. From (22) it is clear that the problematic case values are all non-canonical to a high degree. It must be recalled that the six main case values were not fully canonical either, yet the difference between the main six and these four is striking. Of the four problematic case values, the least difficult is the vocative. This is the case value which is on the rise, expanding its range, while all the others are in decline. Moreover, the vocative is typically a fringe case value, not well integrated into the case system, and so the non-canonical properties of the Russian vocative are not surprising. The other three values are dropping out of the system, none of them ever having been well integrated into it. There is therefore no straightforward answer to the question ‘how many case values has Russian?’ Whatever number we give should be hedged with qualifications. Rather there are the traditional six values, which are canonical to varying degrees, there is the vocative, an innovation

 Greville G. Corbett

which is doing rather well, given that it is after all a vocative, and the three other values, all apparently in terminal decline, each highly non-canonical, and yet each maintaining a presence in the case system.

6.  Conclusion Research on how to establish case values in a given language has been making progress over the years. And Russian retains a central position since, though on the one hand it appears a fairly conservative Indo-European language, it also contains a plethora of challenging potential case values. We have seen the value of a canonical approach in these circumstances; it allows us to bring out the different properties of the case values, rather than having artificially to make black and white analytical decisions for each. Moreover, the criteria developed for case turn out to be largely applicable to other morphosyntactic values too.

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Determining morphosyntactic feature values 

Butt, M. 2006. Theories of Case. Cambridge: CUP. Bybee, J.L. 1985. Morphology: A Study of the Relation between Meaning and Form. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Campe, P. 1994. Case, Semantic Roles, and Grammatical Relations: A Comprehensive Bibliography [Case and grammatical relations across languages 1]. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Chumakina, M., Hippisley, A. & Corbett, G.G. 2004. Istoričeskie izmenenija v russkoj leksike: Slučaj čeredujuščegosja suppletivizma. Russian Linguistics 28: 281–315. Chumakina, M., Kibort, A. & Corbett, G.G. 2007. Determining a language’s feature inventory: Person in Archi. In Endangered Languages [Special issue of Linguistische Berichte 14], P.K. Austin & A. Simpson (Eds), 143–172. Hamburg: Buske. Chvany, C.V. 1986. Jakobson’s fourth and fifth dimensions: on reconciling the cube model of case meanings with the two-dimensional matrices for case forms. In Case in Slavic, R.D. Brecht & J. Levine (Eds), 107–129. Columbus OH.: Slavica. Comrie, B. 1986. On delimiting cases. In Case in Slavic, R.D. Brecht & J. Levine (Eds), 86–106. Columbus OH.: Slavica. Comrie, B. 1991. Form and function in identifying cases. In Paradigms: The Economy of Inflection [Empirical Approaches to Language Typology 9], F. Plank (Ed.), 41–55. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Comrie, B., Stone, G. & Polinsky, M. 1996. The Russian Language in the Twentieth Century. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Corbett, G.G. 1991. Gender. Cambridge: CUP. Corbett, G.G. 1993. The head of Russian numeral expressions. In Heads in Grammatical Theory. G.G. Corbett, N.M. Fraser & S. McGlashan (Eds), 11–35. Cambridge: CUP. Corbett, G.G. 2006. Agreement. Cambridge: CUP. Corbett, G.G. 2007a. Canonical typology, suppletion and possible words. Language 83: 8–42. Corbett, G.G. 2007b. Deponency, syncretism and what lies between. In Deponency and Morphological Mismatches [Proceedings of the British Academy 145], M. Baerman, G.G. Corbett, D. Brown & A. Hippisley (Eds), 21–43. Oxford: British Academy & OUP. Corbett, G.G. Forthcoming. Higher order exceptionality in inflectional morphology. To appear in Expecting the Unexpected: Exceptions in Grammar, H.J. Simon & H. Wiese (Eds). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Corbett, G.G. & Fraser, M.N. 1993. Network morphology: A DATR account of Russian inflectional morphology. Journal of Linguistics 29: 113–42. (Reprinted 2003. Morphology: Critical Concepts in Linguistics, VI: Morphology: Its Place in the Wider Context, F.X. Katamba (Ed.), 364–396. London: Routledge.) Daniel, M. In press. Zvatel’nost’ kak diskursivnaja kategorija. Issledovanija po teorii grammatiki 4. Moscow: Indrik. Daniel, M. & Spencer, A.  Forthcoming. Vocative: An outlier case. In The Handbook of Case, A. Malchukov & A. Spencer (Eds), Oxford: OUP. Evans, N., Brown, D. & Corbett, G.G. 2002. The semantics of gender in Mayali: Partially parallel systems and formal implementation. Language 78: 111–155. Ferguson, C.A. 1970. Grammatical categories in data collection. Working Papers in Language Universals 4: F1-F15. Stanford CA: Stanford University. Floricic, F. 2002. La morphologie du vocatif: L’exemple du sarde. Vox Romanica 61: 151–177. Franks, S. 1995. Parameters of Slavic Morphosyntax [Oxford Studies in Comparative Syntax]. Oxford: OUP. Friedman, V.A. 1993. Macedonian. In The Slavonic Languages, B. Comrie & G.G. Corbett (Eds), 249–305. London: Routledge.

 Greville G. Corbett Gladkij, A.V. 1969. K opredeleniju ponjatij padeža i roda suščestvitel’nogo. Voprosy jazykoznanija 2: 110–123. Gladkij, A.V. 1973a. Popytka formal’ɳogo opredelenija ponjatij padeža i roda suščestvitel’ɳogo. In Problemy grammatičeskogo modelirovanija, A.A. Zaliznjak (Ed.), 24–53. Moscow: Nauka (A substantial revision of Gladkij 1969) Gladkij, A.V. 1973b. An attempt at the formal definition of case and gender of the noun. In Mathematical Models of Language [Soviet Papers in Formal Linguistics], F.  Kiefer (Ed.), 159–204. Stockholm: Skriptor. (Mathematical Models of Language also published 1973 as volume 18 in the series Linguistische Forschungen, Frankfurt am Main, Athenäum.) (English version of Gladkij 1973a) Gladkij, A.V. 1999. Nabrosok formal’ɳoj teorii padeža. Voprosy jazykoznanija 5: 45–55. Goddard, C. 1982. Case systems and case marking in Australian languages: A new interpretation. Australian Journal of Linguistics 2: 167–196. Graudina, L.K., Ickovič, V.A. & Katlinskaja, L.P. 1976. Grammatičeskaja pravil’nost’ russkoj reči: Opyt častotno-stilističeskogo slovarja variantov. Moscow: Nauka. de Groot, A.W. 1939. Les oppositions dans les systèmes de la syntaxe et des cas. In Mélanges linguistiques offerts à Charles Bally, sous les auspices de la Faculté des Lettres de l’Université de Genève par des collègues des confrères des disciples reconnaissants, 107–127. Geneva: Georg & Cie. Haspelmath, M. 2003. The geometry of grammatical meaning: Semantic maps and cross-linguistic comparison. In The New Psychology of Language: Cognitive and Functional Approaches to Language Structure, Vol. 2, M. Tomasello (Ed.) 211–242. Mahwah NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. van Helden, W.A. 1993. Case and Gender: Concept Formation between Morphology and Syntax, 2 Vols. [Studies in Slavic and General Linguistics 20]. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Hjelmslev, L. 1935–37. La catégorie des cas; étude de grammaire générale. Aarhus: Universitetsvorlaget. (Revised Edn. 1972; E. Fischer-Jørgensen (Ed.), Munich: W. Fink) Iggesen, O.A. 2005. Case-Asymmetry: A World-wide Typological Study on Lexeme-class-dependent Deviations in Morphological Case Inventories. Munich: Lincom. Ilola, E. & Mustajoki, A. 1989. Report on Russian Morphology as it Appears in Zaliznyak’s Grammatical Dictionary [Slavica Helsingiensia 7]. Helsinki: Department of Slavonic Languages, University of Helsinki. Iomdin, L.L. 1991. Slovarnaja stat’ja predloga ‘PO’. Semiotka i informatika 32: 94–120. Isačenko, A.V. 1962. Die russische Sprache der Gegenwart, I: Formenlehre. Halle: Max Niemeyer. Jakobson, R.O. 1936. Beitrag zur allgemeinen Kasuslehre: Gesamtbedeutungen der russischen Kasus. Travaux du Cercle Linguistique de Prague 6: 240–288. (Reprinted in R. Jakobson. 1971. Selected Writings II, 23–71. The Hague: Mouton. Translated 1984 as: Contribution to the general theory of case: general meanings of the Russian cases. In Roman Jakobson. Russian and Slavic grammar: Studies 1931–1981, L.R. Waugh & M. Halle (Eds), 59–103. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter) Jakobson, R.O. 1958. Morfologičeskie nabljudenija nad slavjanskim skloneniem (sostav russkix padežnyx form). In American Contributions to the Fourth International Congress of Slavists, Moscow, September 1958, 127–156. The Hague: Mouton. (Reprinted in R.  Jakobson 1971. Selected Writings II, 154–183. The Hague: Mouton. Translated 1984 as Morphological observations on Slavic declension (the structure of Russian case forms). In Roman



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Jakobson. Russian and Slavic grammar: Studies 1931–1981, L.R. Waugh & M. Halle (Eds), 105–133. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter). Jakobson, R. 1959/1971. Boas’ view of grammatical meaning. In The anthropology of Franz Boas: Essays on the centennial of his birth [Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association 89], W. Goldschmidt (Ed.), 139–145. (Reprinted in: R. Jakobson. 1971. Selected Writings II, 489–496. The Hague: Mouton, and cited from the 1971 publication) Kilby, D.A. 1977. Deep and Superficial Cases in Russian [Specimina philologiae slavicae 14; Beiträge zur Kasusgrammatik der slawischen Sprachen 2]. Frankfurt: Kubon & Sagner. Klobukov, E.V. 1986. Semantika padežnyx form v sovremennom russkom literaturnom jazyke: Vvedenie v metodiku pozicionnogo analiza. Moscow: Izdatel’stvo Moskovskogo universiteta. Koval’, S.A. 2004. K voprosu o čisle padežej russkogo suščestvitel’ɳogo (Rešenija dlja kom­­­ p’juternoj lingvistiki). (Available online: http://www.dialog-21.ru/Archive/2004/Koval.pdf. Accessed 20 May 2006) Krylov, S.A. 2002. ‘Russkoe imennoe slovoizmenenie’ A.A. Zaliznjaka tridcat’ let spustja: Opyt retrospektivnoj recenzii s pozicij neostrukturalistskoj morfologii. In Russkoe imennoe slovoizmenenie, A.A. Zaliznjak. 699–748. Moscow: Jazyki slavjanskoj kul’tury. Kuryłowicz, J. 1949. Le problème du classement des cas. Biuletyn Polskiego Towarzystwa Językoznawczego 9. 20–43. (Reprinted 1960. Esquisses linguistiques, J. Kuryłowicz, 131–150. Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy Imienia Ossolińskich, Wydawnictwo Polskiej Akademii Nauk) Madojan, V.V. 1989. Principy vydelenija padeža v svjazi s sistemnym opisaniem jazykovyx faktov (na materiale russkogo jazyka). Izvestija Akademii Nauk SSSR: Serija literatury i jazyka 48: 434–441. Maslova, E.S. 1994. O kriterii objazatel’nosti v morfologii. Izvestija Akademii Nauk SSSR: Serija literatury i jazyka 53: 44–50. Maspero, H. 1934. La langue chinoise. In Conférences de l’Institut de Linguistique de l’Université de Paris, année 1933, 33–70. Paris: Boivin et Cie. Mel’čuk, I. 1960. K voprosu o ‘grammatičeskom’ v jazyke-posrednike. Mašinnyj perevod i prikladnaja lingvistika 4: 25–45. (English version: Grammatical meaning in interlinguas for automatic translation and the concept of grammatical meaning. In 1974. Essays on Lexical Semantics, Vol. I, V.J. Rozencvejg (Ed.), 95–113. Stockholm: Skriptor. Mel’čuk, I. 1978. O padeže suščestvitel’nogo v russkoj konstrukcii tipa idti v soldaty. Svantevit 5: 5–32. Reprinted with minor amendments in Mel’čuk. 1985: 461–489. (page references to the 1985 version) Mel’čuk, I.A. 1985. Poverxnostnyj sintaksis russkix čislovyx vyraženij [Wiener Slawistischer Almanach, Sonderband 16]. Vienna: Institut für Slawistik der Universität Wien. Mel’čuk, I. 1986. Toward a definition of case. In Case in Slavic, R.D. Brecht & J. Levine (Eds), 35–85. Columbus OH: Slavica. (Revised version in Mel’čuk, I. 2006, 110–179) Mel’čuk, I. 2004. Meaning in nominal cases. In Tipologičeskie obosnovanija v grammatike. K 70-letiju professora V.S. Xrakovskogo, A.P. Volodin (Ed.), 313–337. Moscow: Znak. Mel’čuk, I. 2006. Aspects of the Theory of Morphology, Ed. by D. Beck. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Meyer, P. 1994. Grammatical categories and the methodology of linguistics: Review article on W.A. van Helden. 1993. Case and Gender: Concept Formation between Morphology and Syntax. Russian Linguistics 18: 341–377. Panov, M.V. (Ed.), 1968. Morfologija i sintaksis sovremennogo russkogo literaturnogo jazyka (Russkij jazyk i sovetskoe obščestvo: Sociologo-lingvističeskoe issledovanie: III). Moscow: Nauka.

 Greville G. Corbett Panov, M.V. 1997. Fonetika. In Sovremennyj russkij jazyk, V.A.  Belošapkova (Ed.), 54–189. Moscow: Azbukovnik. (3rd Edn. first Edn. 1981) Paus, C. 1994. Social and pragmatic conditioning in the decline of the Russian partitive case. Russian Linguistics 18: 249–266. Percov, N.V. 1996. Grammatičeskoe i objazatel’noe v jazyke. Voprosy jazykoznanija 4: 39–61. Percov, N.V. 2001. Invarianty v russkom slovoizmenenii. Moscow: Jazyki russkoj kul’tury. Plungian (Plungjan), V.A. 1997. Vremja i vremena: K voposu o kategorii čisla. In Logičeskij analiz jazyka: jazyk i vremja, N.D. Arutjunova & T.E. Janko (Eds), 158–169. Moscow: Indrik. Plungian (Plungjan), V.A. 2000. Obščaja morfologija: Vvedenie v problematiku. Moscow: Èditorial URSS. Plungian (Plungjan), V.A. 2002. K semantike russkogo lokativa. Semiotika i informatika 37:  229–254. Rothstein, R.A. 1977. A note on grammatical metonymy in Russian. Folia Slavica 1: 96–100. Serbat, G. 1981. Cas et fonctions: Études des principales doctrines casuelles du moyen-age à nos jours. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Spencer, A. & Otoguro, R. 2005. Limits to case – a critical survey of the notion. In Competition and Variation in Natural Languages: The Case for Case, M. Amberber & H. de Hoop (Eds), Oxford: Elsevier. Thorndahl, W. 1974. Genetivens og lokativens -u/-ju-endelser i russiske middelaldertekster: Med tysk resumé. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Baggers Forlag. Timberlake, A. 1975. Hierarchies in the genitive of negation. Slavic and East European Journal 19: 123–138. Uspenskij, B.A. 2004. Čast’ i celoe v russkoj grammatike. Moscow: Jazyki slavjanskoj kul’tury. Uspenskij, Vladimir A. 1957. K opredeleniju padeža po A.N. Kolmogorovu. Bjulleten’ Ob’’edinenija po problemam mašinnogo perevoda 5: 11–18. (Web version, with a postscript from 2001; available at: http://www.kolmogorov.pms.ru/uspensky-k_opredeleniyu_pade zha_po_kolmogorovu.html, viewed 20 May 2006) Vinogradov, V.V. 1947. Russkij jazyk (Grammatičeskoe učenie o slove). Moscow: Učpedgiz. Wierzbicka, A. 1983. The semantics of case marking. Studies in Language 7: 247–275. Worth, D.S. 1984. Russian gen2, loc2 revisited. In Signs of friendship: To Honour A.G. F. van Holk, Slavist, Linguist, Semiotician, J.J. van Baak (Ed.), 295–306. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Yadroff, M. (1996). Modern Russian vocatives: A case of subtractive morphology. Journal of Slavic Linguistics 4: 133–153. Zaliznjak, A.A. 1967. Russkoe imennoe slovoizmenenie Moscow: Nauka. (Reprinted Zali­ znjak, A.A. 2002. Russkoe imennoe slovoizmenenie: s priloženiem izbrannyx rabot po sovremennomu russkomu jazyku i obščemu jazykoznaɳiju. Moscow: Jazyki slavjanskoj kul’tury. 1–370) Zaliznjak, A.A. 1973. O ponimanii termina ‘padež’ v lingvističeskix opisanijax. In Problemy grammatičeskogo modelirovanija, Andrej A.  Zaliznjak (Ed.), 53–87. Moscow: Nauka. (Reprinted Zaliznjak, A.A. 2002. Russkoe imennoe slovoizmenenie: s priloženiem izbrannyx rabot po sovremennomu russkomu jazyku i obščemu jazykoznaɳiju. Moscow: Jazyki slavjanskoj kul’tury. 613–47) Zaliznjak, A.A. 1977. Grammatičeskij slovar’ russkogo jazyka: slovoizmenenie. Moscow: Russkij jazyk. (4th corrected Edn. 2003; Moscow: Russkie slovari.] Zwicky, A. 1996. Syntax and phonology. In Concise Encyclopedia of Syntactic Theories, K. Brown & J. Miller (Eds), 300–305. Oxford: Elsevier Science.

Does Hungarian have a case system? Andrew Spencer University of Essex

I argue that case markers in Hungarian are best thought of as ‘fused postpositions’. There is no need to set up a separate syntactic or morphological [Case] attribute as such. Rather, we just need a morphological principle stating that nominals (including pronouns) have a special form, the traditional case form. In this respect Hungarian is crucially different from languages such as Latin (which requires both a morphological and a syntactic [Case] feature) or Finnish (which requires at least a syntactic [Case] feature). I discuss certain typological issues arising from this analysis, arguing that when grammarians refer to Hungarian ‘cases’, they are really referring to a rather more general notion of ‘canonical grammatical function markers on dependents’.

1.  Introduction1 The notion of ‘case’ is one that is often taken as a given by linguists but, as Comrie (1986) demonstrated, concisely and clearly, the notion is far from straightforward and the traditional understanding actually encompasses a number of distinct, though interrelated, phenomena. Comrie (1986) argues that we need to distinguish a morphological notion of case, the ‘case forms’ of a lexeme, from a functional notion, the ‘case’ that a noun phrase is ‘in’ in a given construction.2 The

.  Parts of this paper have been presented in talks at the universities of Paris VII (Alliance funded research exchange), Surrey (ESRC-funded Grammatical Features project), Essex, York (York Essex Morphology Meeting 3) and the 12th International Morphology Meeting, Budapest. I am grateful to the audiences at those talks for useful comments, and especially to Bob Borsley, Sonja Eisenbeiss, Claudia Felser, Jean-Pierre König, and Anna Zribi-Hertz. Thanks to Danièle Goddard for originally directing me to the work of Denis Creissels and especially to Edith Moravcsik for very detailed and helpful comments. Default disclaimers apply. .  Sadler & Spencer (2001) argue for a generalized version of this distinction, since it is frequently the case that a property such as ‘tense’, ‘voice’ or ‘definiteness’ is realized synthetically, by a specific form of a lexeme, in some contexts, and by some kind of periphrastic construction in other contexts. See Spencer (2003) for further discussion of the point that the syntactic notion of ‘case’ is really a property of noun phrases, while the morphological property is (typically/canonically) a property of word forms.

 Andrew Spencer

basic reason for this is simple: we often find that the ‘wrong’ morphological form can realize a syntactically defined case function, in other words we have form: function mismatches. As Comrie (1986:  89) points out, in a thoroughly agglutinating language such as Turkish ‘〈…〉 the traditional cases (nominative, accusative, genitive, dative, locative, ablative) can just as readily be identified by their suffixes 〈…〉’, as, indeed, is done in the Dravidian native descriptive tradition. His main arguments rest on inflectional languages such as Russian and Latvian, where there is a clear need for a morphological case feature in order to generalize across distinct forms in different inflectional classes, grammatical number forms and so on. He shows that we need to look to the formal distinctions made in the morphology of the language, the functional/distributional distinctions found in the syntax, and establish a mapping between form:function, which will often as not be a many: one relation. This may even be true of languages such as Turkish, where it is only a definite/specific direct object that gets marked with the accusative suffix, while an indefinite/non-specific object remains unmarked (and hence in the ‘nominative’ case?). The point about Turkish is crucial to my subsequent discussion of Hungarian so I will expand on it a little here. In an inflecting language such as Russian forms of nominal words reflect various syntactic properties and functions, so that there is a special form for subjects, objects, possessors, complements to prepositions and so on. These are the traditional cases, which in Russian include nominative, accusative, genitive, prepositional. However, different classes of nominals may realize these cases by means of entirely different forms, and, moreover, for a given lexeme one and the same case may assume a different form in the singular and the plural. The genitive singular of kniga ‘book’ is knigi and the genitive plural is knig, while the genitive singular/plural of bloknot ‘notepad’ are bloknota/bloknotov. Yet in terms of syntactic privileges of occurrence these are all just genitive case forms. To capture this fact the grammar of Russian therefore requires an abstract attribute or feature [Case] with values such as [Case: genitive]. This much is obvious. Equally obvious ought to be the fact that corresponding nouns in, say, French lack a genitive of this sort, or indeed any case. The ‘genitive’ function in French is realized by the preposition de. To state the distribution of de we do not need to appeal to an attribute-value pair [Case: genitive]. Instead, the grammar requires statements of the form ‘in such-and-such a syntactic environment make the NP the complement of the preposition de’. Similarly, there is no need to label English prepositions such as of, to, with, from, etc. as ‘genitive’, ‘dative’, ‘instrumental’, ‘ablative’ cases. The fact that there is no need for a [Case] attribute in French and English doesn’t prevent grammarians from talking about ‘case forms’ in these languages, but that is either an abuse of terminology or a mis-analysis.



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

The conceptually puzzling situations arise in languages which express ‘case’ meanings and functions by dedicated forms of the nominal which are identical across lexemes. Thus, in Turkish the word kitap ‘book’ has the forms kitap-ın ‘of a book’ and kitaplar-ın ‘of books’. The nominals seem to bear morphological case suffixes and this seems to warrant setting up a [Case] attribute, with a value [Case: genitive], but Comrie’s observations cause us to question this and Beard (1995) explicitly argues that such an attribute is extraneous in a formal grammar. Statements of distribution of such ‘cases’ can take the form ‘in such-and-such a syntactic environment select the -In form of the head noun of the noun phrase’. By appealing to the notion ‘the -In form of a nominal’ we obviate the need for a (morphological) [Case] attribute. Of course, there may still be need for a [Case] attribute in the syntax. To a large extent Finnish nominals inflect for case in an entirely agglutinating manner, just like Turkish (or Hungarian). However, Finnish adjectives agree in case with their head nouns. This fact cannot be stated without appeal to a [Case] attribute in the syntax, otherwise the agreement facts would have to be couched as a dozen unrelated facts about each separate case form. Thus, a language such as Finnish does have a case system, though arguably only in the syntactic sense. When we come to ask whether a language has a case system, therefore, we must really ask two sets of conceptually independent questions: (i) is there a need for a [Case] attribute in the morphology to capture generalizations purely about forms? (ii) is there a need for a [Case] attribute in the syntax to capture generalizations about the parallel distributions of sets of distinct forms? (This is what Spencer and Otoguro 2005, refer to as ‘Beard’s Criterion’). I argue that for Hungarian the answer to both questions has to be ‘no’. The chapter is organized as follows. In §2 I lay out the essentials of the traditional case system of Hungarian, including the postpositions, whose position in the system will prove rather ambivalent. In §3 I lay out the grammatical properties of the case forms, together with relevant allomorphic variation in suffixes and in stems. This establishes that Hungarian cases are at least affixes (as opposed to clitics, say). However, we find no evidence of a syntactic case attribute. In §4 we examine the postpositions and find that they share certain features with case endings and certain features with fully-fledged nouns. The central question is broached in §5, where I argue that there is no (strong) sense in which Hungarian can be said to have a case system.3 Rather, Hungarian cases suffixes are special fused portmanteau affixal postpositions, and no more deserve to be called ‘cases’ than prepositions such as English ‘of ’. However, these forms realize cross-linguistically identifiable functions in the form of canonical grammatical function markers on dependents.

.  I thus arrive at different conclusions from Borin (1986).

 Andrew Spencer

Both the morphological forms (‘fused postpositions’) and the canonical GF markers on dependents can be called ‘case’, but only in a weak and potentially misleading sense. I contrast Hungarian with the Samoyedic language Selkup, which has a similar array of suffixal ‘cases’, but additionally a suffix occupying the ‘case’ slot which creates similitudinal adjectives, with no case-like function at all. Finally, I draw summary conclusions. 2.  Basic Hungarian facts 2.1  The traditional case system In the descriptive sections I will use the term ‘case’ in its traditional sense, even though I will be arguing that the suffixes themselves are not case markers proper. The case suffixes are added to lexemes which can function as nouns, including adjectives and numerals used as nouns. They are not, however, added to infinitive forms of the verb. The case suffixes follow other inflections, namely plural and possessor agreement. With one minor exception the suffixes show no clitic-like (phrasal affix) properties (for example, there are no ‘suspended affixation’ effects). The inventory of cases is a matter for dispute and ranges from 17 (including the zero-marked nominative) to 28, with varying estimates between (Moravcsik 2003a: 117, for instance, has 22 cases). Kiefer (1987; see also Kiefer 2000: 580) provides one of the rare descriptions of the system which actually adduces linguistic arguments in favour of a particular enumeration. He shows that there are eighteen case-marked forms (including the nominative) that behave specifically like nouns as opposed to adverbials. These are the case suffixes that can be attached to nouns already inflected for number and/or possessor. The resulting noun form can be used as the argument of a noun-taking predicate. I will follow Kiefer in considering just these eighteen forms as cases, though it’s of theoretical interest that other forms have traditionally been included in the list. Some cases are essentially grammatical in function (nominative, accusative, dative): (1)

Hungarianˉcaseˉformsˉofˉemberˉ‘person’ nominative ember accusative ember-t dative ember-nek

The nine cases in (2) have primarily local/spatial meanings cumulating ‘orientation’ with ‘position/direction’, essive (at rest), allative (motion to), ablative (motion from) (adapted from Comrie & Polinsky 1998:  107; Kenesei, Vago & Fenyvesi 1998: 235):



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

(2) Hungarianˉlocalˉcases a. ‘in’ˉorientation essive inessive allative illative ablative elative

ember-ben ‘in’ ember-be ‘into’ ember-ből ‘fromˉinsideˉof ’

b. ‘on’ˉorientation essive superessive ember-en ‘on’ allative sublative ember-re ‘onto’ ablative delative ember-ről ‘fromˉtheˉsurfaceˉof ’ c.

‘at’ˉorientation essive adessive ember-nél ‘at’ allative allative ember-hez ‘towards’ ablative ablative ember-től ‘fromˉ(near)’

The remaining six have various ‘adverbial’ meanings:

(3) Hungarianˉsemanticˉcasesˉ(withˉbasicˉallomorphˉandˉapproximateˉ gloss;ˉcase namesˉfollowingˉKeneseiˉetˉal.ˉ1998: 1924)



instrumental causal-final translative terminative essive-formal essive

ember-rel ember-ért5 ember-ré ember-ig ember-ként ember-ül

‘with’ ‘as’ ‘(change)ˉinto’ ‘upˉto’ ‘inˉtheˉcapacityˉof ’ ‘inˉtheˉcapacityˉof ’

All the endings except -ért, -ig, -ként show allomorphy. Non-labial vowels alternate between a ~ e in back/front vowel harmony contexts, while allative -hoz/hez/höz and superessive -n/on/en/ön show limited labial harmony as well. The instrumental and translative suffixes -val and -vá also undergo consonant assimilation as seen in the forms ember-rel, ember-ré. The accusative triggers stem allomorphy, to be discussed below. It’s worth mentioning that a number of the ‘adverbial’ suffixes not counted by Kiefer as cases also exhibit allomorphy and vowel harmony, for instance, the so-called comitative -stul, -stül, -ostul, -astul, -estül, -östül. Hungarian has no inflectional classes, so the same endings are used for all lexemes (but see below for case forms of pronouns).

.  Hungarian grammars use Latinized case names, but in the literature generally case terminology appears not to be fixed. Kiefer (2000: 580) has ‘translativus-factivus’ for ‘translative’, ‘formativus’ for ‘essive-formal’ and ‘superessivus’ for ‘essive’. However, ‘superessivus’ is also used for the local superessive case. Tompa (1985) has ‘Translativ-Faktitiv’ for ‘translative’, but ‘EssivFormal’ for ‘essive-formal’. However, for ‘essive’ he has ‘Essiv-Modal’. .  In Kiefer (2000: 580) this form is unfortunately misprinted as embert-ért.

 Andrew Spencer

2.2  Postpositions Hungarian is rich in postpositions. True postpositions take the nominative form of the dependent noun (Kenesei et al. 1998: 337): mögött ‘behind’ a ház mögött ‘behind the house’. Traditional descriptions include as postpositions adverbials which take a case-marked form of the noun (Kenesei et al. 1998: 338), such as kívül ‘beside’: a ház-on kívül lit. ‘the house-superessive beside’. However, Creissels (2003) argues convincingly that these are best not treated as true postpositions, but rather have the syntax of nouns. For instance, the kívül-type postposition can come either side of its complement, kívül a házon, which is impossible for the mögött-type. Secondly, it is possible to separate the kívül-type from its complement with a word such as pontosan ‘just’, but this too is impossible with the mögött-type, which must remain in tight juncture with its complement noun. Thirdly, when the complement of a true postposition such as mögött is modified by a demonstrative the postposition has to be repeated after that demonstrative, as in (4) (see also Kenesei et al. 1998: 278): (4) e mögött a this behind the ‘behindˉthisˉhouse’

ház mögött house behind

However, a complement to a kívül-type postposition does not permit such doubling of the postposition after the demonstrative; instead, the demonstrative assumes the case suffix of complement noun, just as in any other noun phrase type: (5) ez-en this-superessive ‘besideˉthisˉhouse’

a ház-on kívül the house-superessive beside

It is only the true postpositions such as mögött that show interesting parallels with the case suffixes, so in future I shall be referring exclusively to such elements when I speak of ‘postpositions’. Some of the spatial postpositions have distinct orientation forms, mirroring the three-way division of spatial cases essive, allative, ablative. Some common examples are shown in (6): (6) Spatialˉdistinctionsˉinˉpostpositions essive allative ablative under alatt alá alól over fölött fölé fölül elé elől inˉfrontˉof előtt behind mögött mögé mögül near mellett mellé mellől between között közé közül



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

3.  Grammatical properties of cases 3.1  Morphosyntax The cases fail to trigger any processes that would require appeal to a syntactic case attribute, in particular, there is no case agreement/concord or multiple marking of any kind within the noun phrase. There are two apparent exceptions to this statement. First, appositional modifiers (including numerals), separated from their head noun, take the same nominal inflections as the nouns to which they relate (Tompa 1985: 185f). (7) Azˉüzem-ben, azˉúj-ban, megindult a munka theˉenterprise-iness theˉnew-iness started.up the work ‘Workˉhasˉbeginˉinˉtheˉenterprise,ˉtheˉnewˉone’

In (8,9) we see that possessive form nouns and pronouns take case endings in the same way as adjectives: (8) Még nem voltam azˉiskolá-ban aˉfia-m-é-ban still not I.was theˉschool-iness theˉson-my-his-iness ‘Iˉstillˉhaven’tˉbeenˉtoˉtheˉschool,ˉmyˉson’s,ˉthatˉis’ a magunké-t (9) Felépítjük a háza-t, we.build the house-acc the ours-acc ‘Weˉareˉbuildingˉtheˉhouse,ˉourˉownˉone’

In these appositional constructions we don’t have agreement within the NP, because the modifiers don’t form a constituent with their heads. The second type of exception is found with the demonstratives ez ‘this’, az ‘that’ and other demonstratives based on these (emez/amaz ‘this/that other’, ugyanez/ ugyanaz ‘this/that same’). The demonstratives obligatorily take number/case inflections (though not possessive inflections), apparently agreeing with the head noun (a list of forms is given in Kenesei et al. 1998: 277–8). However, the consensus seems to be that the demonstratives are in apposition (Moravcsik 2003b: 448; Tompa 1985: 181). A syntactic indication of this is that the demonstratives invariably appear before a definite article, which otherwise seems to mark the left edge of the NP: (10) a.

ez-ek-ben a háza-k-ban this-pl-iness the house-pl-iness ‘inˉtheseˉhouses’

b. *azˉezekbenˉházakban

One conceptual reason that could be cited for not treating the doubling as agreement, at least where case suffixes are concerned, is that some of the case suffixes don’t trigger doubling, namely, locative, iterative, comitative, essive, distributive,

 Andrew Spencer

multiplicative, modal, modal-essive (Kenesei et al. 1998: 277). Now, of these only the essive is universally accepted as a case suffix (and is the only one which I have included as a bona fide instance). However, the conceptual problem remains. Some of the traditional cases left out of the list of eighteen do trigger doubling with demonstratives, including the temporal -kor, the formal -képpen ‘as, in the capacity of’). Moreover, the majority of the true postpositions are also usually repeated after the demonstratives, as we saw in (4) above. Such doubling is even (optionally) possible with ‘fake’ postpositions, such as kívül + superessive ‘beside’, which are really nouns taking a case-marked complement, but then the demonstrative assumes the case form of the complement:6 (11) ez-en kívül aˉkönyv-ön this-superessive beside theˉbook-superessive ‘besideˉthisˉbook’ˉ(Moravcsikˉ2003a:ˉ208)

kívül beside

A final distinction between true postpositions and those taking case-marked complements is that the final -z of ez/az is ‘deleted’ before true postpositions, as in (12) where ez ‘this’ appears as e (Kenesei et al. 1998: 278; see also Moravcsik 2003a: 208): (12) A kulcs e mellett a könyv mellett van the key this near the book near is ‘Theˉkeyˉisˉnearˉthisˉbook’

I have taken it for granted that the case endings are bona fide affixes, rather than, say, clitics. This is justified by a number of properties. First, the accusative affix triggers idiosyncratic allomorphy on the stem (see below), a characteristic of affixes not of clitics. Second, the suffixes lack almost all of the standard clitic properties. They show no promiscuous attachment (if we grant that numerals, adjectives and other modifiers with null heads are functionally nouns) and they show no signs of the ‘suspended affixation’ phenomenon characteristic of, say, Turkish, in which a single suffix takes scope over a coordinated phrase. Thus, corresponding to a kert-ben és a park-ban ‘in the garden and (in) the park’ we have no constructions such as *[a kert- és a park]-ban. However, there is one construction in which the cases seem to behave more like edge inflections or phrasal affixes than like bona fide stem-based affixes. The .  From Moravcsik’s (2003a: 208f) discussion it would appear that demonstratives agree with the nouns even when the repeated element is a ‘fake’ postposition. However, she points out that this conclusion only holds if we regard the demonstrative as part of the NP constituent, and not in apposition. Relevant here are her three arguments in favour of treating the demonstrative as appositional (Moravcsik 2003b: 448). Perhaps the conclusion to draw from this is that Hungarian has an incipient, but as yet highly non-canonical system of ‘agreement’, which is therefore better thought of as multiple marking. In any event it is hardly sufficient to warrant setting up an independent syntactic [Case] attribute.



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

Hungarian pseudo-partititive construction (see Selkirk 1977, for discussion of the corresponding English construction) which translates ‘a box of apples’, ‘a pint of milk’ is formed by taking a measure noun (phrase) and following it with the semantic head, literally ‘a box apple’, ‘a pint milk’. The components of the phrase can be elaborated by modifiers (‘a large box of red apples’), as in (13): (13) az a három nagy üveg tokaji bor that the three large bottle Tokaj wine ‘thoseˉlargeˉbottlesˉofˉTokaiˉwine’

When we overtly case-mark the whole expression, the case-marker occurs not on üveg ‘bottle’, but on the final word of the phrase, bor ‘wine’. This is surprising if we assume that üveg ‘bottle’ is the syntactic head of the phrase rather than bor ‘wine’. (14) a. Kérem az-t a három nagy üveg tokaji bor-t I.ask.for that-acc the three large bottle Tokaj wine-acc ‘ThoseˉthreeˉlargeˉbottlesˉofˉTokajˉwine,ˉplease’ b. *Kérem azt a három nagy üveg-et tokaji bor I.ask.for that-acc the three large bottle-acc Tokaj wine

I have not found in the literature any detailed formal discussion of this phenomenon or its implications. The fact that the demonstrative takes the accusative marker shows that the accusative suffix on bort in (14a) is somehow marking üveg as ‘being in the accusative’, though this represents a significant departure from the default morphology-to-syntax relation.7 3.2  Allomorphy With the exception of z-assimilation with demonstratives and the assimilation shown by v-initial suffixes, the case markers generally fail to trigger or undergo idiosyncratic allomorphy. The principal exception is the accusative suffix -t. Accusative suffixes may trigger idiosyncratic (i.e. unpredictable) stem allomorphy. Stems ending in a consonant may acquire a vowel extension before certain consonant-initial affixes. For instance, a consonant-final noun stem generally

.  Preliminary investigations suggest that the edge marking phenomenon may affect more than just the case system. If in examples such as (14a) we wish to talk about bottles, or about your bottle(s) the plural and/or possessor agreement markers, too, appear as edge markers, on bor ‘wine’ not on üveg ‘bottle’ (I am grateful to Edith Moravcsik for discussion of the relevant examples). Clearly, rather more is going on here, but this will have to be the subject of further research.

 Andrew Spencer

takes a ‘linking vowel’ -o(ö)/e before the accusative suffix (and before the plural and possessive suffixes): (15) a. város város-o-k ‘town’ b. tőr tőr-ö-k dagger c. egyetem egyetem-e-k ‘university’

Adjectives take case suffixes when they are converted to nouns or when they modify a null head. Consonant-final adjectives functioning as nouns tend to take the linker -a/e, not the -o/e linker associated with true nouns. Tompa (1985: 44) cites examples including akadémikus ‘academic’, which has the plural form akadémikus-o-k in the nominal meaning ‘members of the Academy’ but akadémikus-a-k in the converted adjective function meaning ‘things which are academic, theoretical’. But these are at best strong tendencies and there are exceptions in both directions. The noun ház ‘house’ takes the linker -a-, ház-a-k, while the adjective nagy ‘large’ takes -o-, nagy-o-k. As Creissels (2003) points out, the choice of linker for all the suffixes that require one is generally determined by the stem. Thus, irregular nouns and adjectives such as ház, nagy take the ‘wrong’ linker for possessive and accusative forms as well as for the plural: (16)

nap napo-k napo-m napo-t

‘day’ ‘days’ ‘myˉday’ ‘day,ˉaccusative’

but

ház háza-k háza-m háza-t

‘house’ ‘houses’ ‘myˉhouse’ ‘house,ˉaccusative’

Some nouns undergo other types of stem allomorphy (Kenesei et al. 1998: 194; Moravcsik 2003a: 125–126): (17)

nominative accusative madár → madara-t ‘bird’ határ → határ-t ‘border’ ló → lova-t ‘horse’ jó → jó-t ‘good’8 korom → kormo-t ‘soot’ daru → darva-t ‘craneˉ(bird)’ daru → daru-t ‘craneˉ(machine)’ kehely → kelyhe-t ‘chalice’ Kehely → Kehely-t ‘(Mr.)ˉChalice’

vs. vs.

vs. vs.

.  As in jót tesz valakinek ‘to do somebody good’ and various other idioms.



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

In this respect the accusative patterns with the plural and possessive affixes (see the paradigms in Kenesei et al. 1998: 194). Complicating the picture somewhat is the fact that plural and possessive suffixes themselves determine the linking vowel for the following suffix. In both cases the suffix selects the -a back harmony variant, even with (regular) nouns and (irregular) adjectives whose stems select the -o vowel: (18) nap-o-k-a-t nagy-o-k-a-t

‘days,ˉaccusative’ ‘largeˉones,ˉaccusative’

However, this fact is somewhat obscured in the traditional analysis of the accusative, which takes these as alternations in the shape of the affix, not the stem. Thus, traditionally we see segmentations in which the linking vowel forms part of the suffix: nap-ok-at, nagy-ok-at etc. (See, for instance, the extended defence of Carstairs’ (1987) ‘Peripherality Constraint’, in Moravcsik 2003a: 219ff, which hinges on the traditional segmentation of the affixes, as set out in Moravcsik 2003a: 116, 118). Finally, there is an unusual instance of affix allomorphy with 1st/2nd person possessed forms, in which the accusative marker may optionally be zero: (19) a.

Látom a ház-am-at I.see the house-my-acc

b. Látom a ház-am I.see the house-my ‘Iˉseeˉmyˉhouse’

The conclusion from these data is that suffixes select specific allomorphs of their stems (including the linker vowel), and that suffixes themselves have allomorphs selected by immediately following suffixes (for instance, the plural suffix takes the -a- linker when followed by the accusative suffix, even with nouns that normally select the -o- linker with the accusative; see (18) above). One interesting consequence of this analysis is that there is no case suffix allomorphy save for vowel harmony and the assimilatory allomorphy of -val/vel, -vá/vé. In particular, there is no cumulation of case with any other morphosyntactic property. In this respect, the case suffixes, even the accusative, are morphophonologically more like clitics than affixes (though triggering idiosyncratic allomorphy on a stem is a canonical property of affixes, so one can’t take this analogy particularly far). I discuss the question of case marking and pronouns below.

4.  Postpositions and cases The cases are all fairly recent grammaticalizations from postpositions, and so it shouldn’t be surprising to find that cases and postpositions share a number of

 Andrew Spencer

important characteristics. In addition, postpositions are generally derived historically from nouns, and in some respects the postpositions behave as though they were still nouns. What is less expected of a case system is that the case suffixes occasionally behave like nouns, too. 4.1  Postpositions – similarities to nouns Postpositions are fully fledged words with their own stress (and indeed they are usually polysyllabic). Morphosyntactically they resemble nouns in that they take case/possessor suffixes themselves: (20) a.

a ház mellett the house next.to

b. mellett-e a ház next.to-3sg the house ‘nextˉtoˉtheˉhouse’ c.

mögött-ről a ház the house behind-del ‘fromˉbehindˉtheˉhouse’

(Creisselsˉ2003)

Postpositions can receive the -i adjectivizer suffix, normally reserved for (the base form of) a noun. Case-marked nouns behave like canonical inflected forms in not accepting this derivational suffix (Moravcsik 2003a: 178f): (21) a

a kert-i út the garden-adj road ‘theˉgardenˉroad’

mellett b. a kert the garden next.to ‘nextˉtoˉtheˉgarden’ c.

mellett-i út a kert the garden next.to-adj road ‘theˉroadˉnextˉtoˉtheˉgarden’

út d. *a kert-ben-i the garden-iness-adj road intended:ˉ‘theˉroadˉinˉtheˉgarden’

4.2  Postpositions – similarities to cases The true postpositions share a number of characteristics with case suffixes. We have already seen the striking similarities with respect to ‘agreement’ of the demonstratives ez/az. In addition, the true postpositions take a non-case marked



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

(bare, nominative) form of noun complement. Third, they cannot be separated from their noun complement. This is seen in (22): (22) a. pontosan János mellett just János next.to ‘justˉnextˉtoˉJános’ b. *János pontosan mellett János just next.to

4.3  Cases – similarities to nouns Perhaps less expectedly, cases suffixes themselves share an important noun-like property with postpositions. Personal pronouns do not have their own case forms. In order to express a ‘case feature’ such as [Case: Dative] on a pronoun we take a dedicated nominal stem which corresponds to the case marker and inflect it for possessor agreement. The nominal stem is sometimes identical to a case suffix allomorph, but usually it shows partial or total suppletion (Moravcsik 2003a: 161). The system is described by Kenesei et al. (1998: 270f). Examples of pronominal case forms are shown in (23): (23) a.

-nak/nekˉ‘dative’,ˉ‘toˉme’ˉetc. singular plural 1st nek-em nek-ünk 2nd nek-ed nek-tek 3rd nek-i nek-ik

b. -ban/benˉ‘inessive’,ˉ‘inˉme’ˉetc. singular plural 1st benn-e-m benn-ünk 2nd benn-e-d benn-e-tek 3rd benn-e benn-ük c. -hoz/hez/hözˉ‘allative’,ˉ‘towardsˉme’ˉetc. singular plural 1st hozz-á-m hozz-á-nk 2nd hozz-á-d hozz-á-tok 3rd hozz-á hozz-á-juk d. -(o)n/(e)nˉ‘superessive’,ˉ‘onˉtopˉofˉme’,ˉetc. singular plural 1st rajt-a-m rajt-unk 2nd rajt-a-d rajt-a-tok 3rd rajt-a rajt-uk

The personal pronouns do not have forms for all of the eighteen uncontroversial cases; they lack the translative, terminative, essive-formal, and essive.

 Andrew Spencer

The accusative involves a greater degree of stem allomorphy, but essentially follows the same pattern, at least for non-3rd person forms (3rd person pronouns form their accusatives in the manner of nouns: ő-t, ő-ke-t): (24) accusativeˉofˉ1st/2ndˉpersonˉpronouns singular plural 1st engem(et) minket,ˉbennünket 2nd téget(et) titeket,ˉbenneteket

The possessor suffixes -m, -d, -nk, -tek, can just about be discerned in these forms, which would make -g- the ‘accusative base’ for non-3rd person singular pronouns and benn- the ‘accusative base’ for one of the plural form options. Note, however, that in the plural, and optionally in the singular, these forms include the accusative ending. Such double marking for case is found colloquially with other cases, too (e.g. alongside nál-a-m ‘with me’ we find nál-a-m-nál). These pronominal forms pose very interesting questions for the formal description of Hungarian, though I have been unable to find explicit discussion of this issue. The problem is that the pronominals represent an unusual case of morphosyntactic mismatch. They fulfil the role of case marking with respect to pronouns, but the paradigms are defined in terms of the possessor agreement morphology of otherwise non-existent nouns. In a realizational model (e.g., Network Morphology, Corbett & Fraser 1993, or Paradigm Function Morphology, Stump 2001) it would be possible in principle to account for this by means of a rule of referral, though there are difficulties in ensuring that a suffix can also be a noun stem.9 For present purposes I merely note that the grammar of Hungarian has to have some way of indicating that the feature set [Pronoun: {1st, 2nd, 3rd}, [Case: K]] is reinterpreted as the feature set [Lexeme-K, [PossessorAgreement: {1st, 2nd, 3rd}]], where ‘Lexeme-K’ stands for the virtual case-noun base which gets inflected with possessor agreements. The question then arises whether the label [Case: K] has to be the name of a genuine case attribute.

5.  Does Hungarian have a case system? I argued earlier that a canonical case system of the type found in inflectional languages such as Russian is one which must appeal to a morphosyntactic property, feature or attribute [Case] in order to generalize across systematically distinct

.  In Spencer (2006) I propose a rule of referral analysis within the framework of Generalized Paradigm Function Morphology, a generalization of Stump’s (2001) model.



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

forms. Clearly, whatever the Hungarian system represents it is not a canonical case system of that type. Is it necessary, therefore, to set up a [Case] attribute at all for the grammar of Hungarian, and if so what would it be used for? Morphologically, we have found absolutely no need for such an attribute within the inflectional system of nouns and adjectives. There is no cumulation with any other property. When describing the ‘case forms’ of a noun, therefore, we only need to make reference to the ‘ban-form’, or the ‘val-form’ or whatever, or use any other arbitrary labelling system (such as integers, as in the traditional Czech system, ‘Form1, 2, … , 18’; cf. Comrie 1986, on the morphology of Turkish case). Even the accusative personal pronouns don’t give any reason to set up a case feature. The 3rd person forms and the 1st, 2nd plural forms can be treated as nouns with rather odd suppletive allomorphy in the case of the 1st, 2nd person forms, while the 1st, 2nd singular forms pattern like other cases, in exhibiting essentially a kind of possessor agreement over a suppleting ‘case noun stem’. Admittedly, the 3rd person pronouns show rather odd behaviour in forming their accusatives as though they were nouns and their other cases as though they were pronouns, but this is orthogonal to the question of what kind of case attribute Hungarian may or may not have. Syntactically, there is no warrant for a case feature, whether on noun heads or on the right edge of noun phrases. The one apparent instance of case agreement is better thought of as an appositional construction. The simple answer to the question, then, is that Hungarian nouns don’t have a true case system. Rather, nouns bear inflectional markers which have the functions of adpositions in other languages, and which differ from the true postpositions of Hungarian only in relatively low-level morphological properties (and even then show fewer clear-cut differences than the cases/postpositions of many languages of a similar type). The cases, in other words, are better thought of as ‘fused postpositions’, a kind of regular portmanteau, akin to the portmanteau definite prepositional forms of German and Romance, such as German zum = zu dem ‘to the.m.dat.sg’ or French du = de le ‘of the.m.sg’. I return to the case forms of pronouns below. On the morphological side the grammar needs to have a way of defining eighteen forms (provisionally labelled ‘ban-form’, ‘t-form’ and so on). On the syntactic side the grammar needs to relate these forms to various grammatical and lexical constructions. For instance, it is a (lexical) property of the ban-form that it conveys a meaning akin to that expressed by an English prepositional phrase headed by in. It is a (grammatical) property of the t-form that it realizes (usually!) the direct object of a transitive verb (much like a pe-phrase in Rumanian, the et-phrase of Hebrew, or the a-phrase of Spanish when the object is specific/animate). But there is no need to provide these forms with an additional label such as [Case: Accusative] any more than there is any need to provide English prepositional phrases such as

 Andrew Spencer

of John with a label [Case: Genitive] (despite a long tradition in English and similar languages of doing exactly this!). And yet to say that Hungarian lacks a case system is hardly an uncontroversial claim. Why should it be that linguistic descriptive tradition has taken Hungarian not only to illustrate a case system but to be a parade example of such a system? There are two reasons for this. First, the case suffixes have the functions of cases in genuine case languages (for instance, in the languages which respect Beard’s Criterion). But this does not make the suffixes into cases, any more than it would make English of into a genitive case. I have argued that there is a need to distinguish two notions of ‘case’ (cf. Comrie 1986), a morphological notion and a syntactic notion. I would argue that the term ‘case’ has also been used systematically with a third meaning, what we might call a ‘metagrammatical usage’ (see also Comrie 1986, fn. 11). Languages have various ways of marking grammatical functions, including ways of marking dependents of predicates or of head nouns in noun phrases. These include adpositional words, adpositional clitics, edge inflections and head-marking affixes. Let’s refer to such devices collectively as ‘canonical GF markers on dependents’ (CGFMDs). By this is meant ‘the manner in which a canonical grammatical function (GF) such as subject, indirect object, etc. is marked on a dependent’. CGFMDs show varying degrees of grammaticalization/morphologization, of course, and they may have other functions besides that of marking core grammatical functions. For instance, they may serve as ‘semantic cases’ (non-core adjuncts) or as discourse markers. Moreover, grammatical function markers on dependents may, non-canonically, mark other grammatical functions. This occurs when we have dative-marked subjects, genitive-marked objects, nominative-marked direct objects and so on. Now, case labels such as nominative (object) or dative (subject) have come to be used whenever the canonical way of marking a subject is also used to mark certain objects, or whenever the canonical way of marking an indirect object is used to mark, say, the subject of an experiencer verb. But these patterns are independent of true case marking. Indeed, they are not necessarily a property of dependent marking in the first place. A verb which agrees with its indirect object may use the same agreement morphology to cross-reference an experiencer predicate subject even in a language which lacks the relevant case form, such as Abkhaz. Therefore, just because a morphosyntactic device, such as a set of suffixes, constitutes a prototypical set of CGFMDs, doesn’t mean to say that this device deserves to be called a ‘case system’. On the contrary, by adopting such an analysis we would often do serious injustice to the grammar of the language. This point is emphasized in Spencer & Otoguro (2005) for Japanese. They show that the so-called ‘case particles’ have none of the properties of genuine cases



Does Hungarian have a case system?

(other than the metagrammatical property of being CGFMDs), and that they have a number of properties that genuine cases never have. Similarly, Spencer (2005) and Otoguro (2006) show in some detail that it is a grave error to think of the ‘case particles’ of Indo-Aryan languages such as Hindi as cases. Not only does this lead to the same conceptual confusion as with Japanese, it also makes it impossible to describe the real (admittedly somewhat vestigial) case system of these languages, in which attributive adjectives and demonstratives agree in number, gender and case with their head nouns (Hindi has three cases ‘direct’, ‘oblique’ and ‘vocative’). In fact, the so-called case markers of Hindi are clitic postpositions, some of which are used to mark core grammatical functions. A further problem with treating the clitic postpositions as cases is revealed when we look at the realization of direct objects in Hindi (or Turkish for that matter). Under certain circumstances (involving the usual properties of animacy, specificity, topicality and so on) a direct object can be marked with the clitic postposition ko. The canonical function of this postposition, however, is to mark the indirect object. Otherwise, a direct object is realized by a noun phrase lacking any clitic postposition (the so-called ‘nominative’ form). Unfortunately, this form is the canonical way of realizing subjects in non-perfect tenses. (In the perfect tenses, the transitive subject is marked by an ‘ergative’ postposition ne, and intransitive subjects and direct objects are left unmarked.) There is, in fact, no dedicated marker for direct objects in any set of tenses. But this leads to complete confusion when we come to describe a sentence with an unmarked direct object, especially in the nonperfect tenses (where we can’t have recourse to a description in terms of ergative/ absolutive marking). Is such a noun phrase ‘in the nominative’ but ‘functioning as an accusative’, or ‘in the accusative’ syntactically, but ‘in the nominative’ morphologically? Or is it in some kind of ‘virtual’ accusative case which is always syncretic with some other case (like the accusative of animate/inanimate masculines in Russian)? No way of finessing these questions leaves us with a sensible answer. Of course, if we abjure talk of ‘cases’ here there is no problem. There are various clitic postpositions, some of which have the function of expressing notions like ‘subject of perfect tense form verb’, ‘specific, animate direct object’ and so on. The default is to use no postposition.10

.  As for the Hindi ‘genitive’, which behaves like an adjectival modifier in agreeing with its head, the only way to make this into a case is to invent some convoluted story about ‘Suffixaufnahme’ even though what is really happening is that we have a particle which happens to agree like an adjective, rather like the ‘associative a’ marker of Bantu languages or the so-called ‘genitive’ clitic of Albanian (see Koptjevskaja-Tamm 2003: 660–665).



 Andrew Spencer

The second motivation for the tradition of treating Hungarian as a prototypical case language is that Hungarian nominals obligatorily have special inflected forms for expressing case-related meanings. Therefore, the grammar of Hungarian has to appeal to some sort of feature to ensure that all nouns can get ‘case’ suffixes (and moreover, that they appear in the right order, after the plural and possessor suffixes). In extant realizational theories of morphology the morphological organization is governed by an attribute or feature which applies to all nouns (better, to all nominals). Traditionally, this feature would take the form [Case: {Nominative, Accusative, … , Inessive, … }]. However, these labels are for the linguist’s convenience, they play no role in the grammar itself. All that the morphology needs is an attribute such as [Form: {t-form, … , ban-form, … }]. Identifying these forms with ‘cases’ is then a metagrammatical description, with attendant advantages for typologizing, together with various pitfalls, as discussed above. Notice that this [Form] feature is not actually a case feature and therefore there is no need to describe a form which is unmarked. This means that there is no nominative. Rather, the so-called nominative is simply the form that is used when there is no requirement to use a marked form. This can include a variety of situations, including possessive constructions and so-called ‘noun incorporation’ contexts. In (25) we see a bare noun form as a possessor, while in (26) we see essentially the same construction, in which the possessor corresponds to the direct object without accusative marking ‘incorporated’ into a nominalized verb: (25) János könyv-e János book-3sg.poss ‘János’sˉbook’ (26) a könyv elolvas-ás-a the book read-nmlzr-3sg.poss ‘theˉreadingˉofˉtheˉbook’

Specifically, these bare forms are not ‘genitives’ (any more than -nek/nak ‘datives’ are ‘genitives’!). Hungarian provides just one apparent argument in support of a morphological [Case] feature. We have seen that the ‘case’ forms of pronominals are unusual in that they take the possessor agreement form of an element which in some cases is homophonous to a case suffix. I know of no description of this alternation in a formal grammar of Hungarian but I have proposed that this unusual mode of exponence be handled by a rule of referral (Spencer 2006). The obvious way to state this rule is to use statements of the format ‘for the [Case: X] form of a pronoun with person/number features α, take the [Case: X] suffix (or its suppletive variant) and inflect it as a possessed noun for features αʹ. However, it should be



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

clear that all we really need is a feature which identifies specific forms of nominals. Whether we call that feature ‘Case’ or ‘Form’ is immaterial. The rule of referral can just as easily be stated as ‘for the [Form: X] form of a pronoun with person/ number features α, take the [Form: X] suffix and inflect it as a possessed noun for features α’. To be sure there are interesting problems in defining the notion ‘[Form: X] suffix’ in a realizational theory (these are addressed in Spencer 2006), but these are independent of the question of whether a [Case] attribute is needed. In sum, the Hungarian nominal system is similar to the English verbal system. The forms walking, walked of the lexeme walk defy sensible featural definition, because they are used in so many functions (walking, for instance can be analysed as a verb form, an adjective form or a noun). Although a variety of highly misleading traditional terms are entrenched for these forms (‘present/past participle’ and the like) the only motivated description is purely formal: [Form: -ing], [Form: -ed1], [Form: -ed2], where [Form: -ed1], [Form: -ed2] are systematically identical except for a largish number of irregular verbs. Indeed, in a realizational approach to inflection this is precisely the situation we expect: affixes are not Saussurean signs, as they are in a classical morphemic model, and therefore there’s no particular need for the morphological description to give any information about the typical meanings or functions of particular inflected forms. Finally, there is one language which is structurally very similar to Hungarian in which it would be a positive disadvantage to insist on thinking of ‘case suffixes’ as genuine cases. Selkup (Kuznecova, Xelimskij and Gruškina, 1980) is a Samoyedic language (and hence at most distantly related to Hungarian) which happens to inflect nouns for number-possessor-case in essentially the same manner as Hungarian. Selkup nouns also take a very productive similitudinal suffix, -šalʹ, creating an adjective with the meaning ‘similar (in some contextually determined way) to N’. What is interesting about this suffix is that it attaches to nouns inflected for number and/or possessor agreement even though its function seems to be that of a derivational, not an inflectional, affix (Kuznecova et al. 1980: 193): (27) mat pra-ny-šalʹ qum I.gen size-1sg-sim.adj man ‘manˉofˉmyˉsizeˉ(lit.ˉmanˉsimilarˉtoˉmyˉsize)’

Moreover, it occupies the same position slot as the case markers and is in paradigmatic opposition to them (that is, it is incompatible with case markers). Although one could imagine meanings such as ‘similar to with a knife (instrumental)’ or ‘similar to at the river (locative)’ such forms are completely impossible, morphologically. Thus, although it is not itself a case suffix in any sense of the term, the -šalʹ suffix belongs functionally to the same set of suffixes as the case suffixes.

 Andrew Spencer

What is important for Selkup morphology is not that there are case suffixes but that there is a position slot after the number and possessor markers for suffixes with ‘case’ and other functions. For Selkup, it would not only be unnecessary to define the elements occupying this slot with a [Case] attribute, it would be downright misleading.

6.  Some consequences If Hungarian lacks a case system then it doesn’t matter how many ‘cases’ there are (just as it doesn’t matter how many prepositions English has). This means that debate as to which suffixes are ‘really’ cases in Hungarian is really debate about something else. In part such debates centre around the criteria for labelling, not a very interesting question. The issues raised by Kiefer (1987) relate to more serious questions of regularity and productivity, as well as questions of word class assignment. The facts of languages like Hungarian show that some affixes can have partly or wholly adverbial functions and hence behave more like ‘derivational’ affixes than ‘inflectional’ ones. But this just makes Hungarian look a little like Selkup. However, all that really matters for the morphology is that (some) nouns bear such an affix, and that some affixes have restricted paradigms (for instance, they don’t combine with already inflected forms). But this is a property of the [Form] attribute. One of the problems posed by Hungarian cases that I haven’t dwelt upon is the issue of whether we can call Hungarian cases properly ‘inflectional’. In a language with truly inflectional cases like Russian all the cases have a least one set of purely grammatical uses and the question of whether a given case form can be used with a purely lexical meaning becomes secondary. Whether or not we imagine that, say, the instrumental case in Russian ‘really’ means ‘by means of ’ and then has lots of additional uses, we also have to say that ‘instrumental’ is a value of the [Case] attribute in Russian. In Hungarian, where there is no motivation for a [Case] attribute as such, it becomes problematical when we find so many ‘semantic cases’ whose primary or only function is to express adverbial concepts such as ‘from the surface of ’ or ‘in the capacity of ’. This looks very much as though we are changing the meaning of the base noun, adding a semantic predicate in order to obtain a new word (lexeme) which can be used as a kind of adverb. But if that is the situation, aren’t we really talking about derivation rather than inflection? To the extent that an inflection/derivation distinction can be maintained for any language, such a question turns out to be in any case irrelevant if Hungarian lacks a case system. The fact that some of the realizations of the [Form] attribute have clear-cut adverbial semantics is neither unexpected nor problematical, just



Does Hungarian have a case system? 

as it is neither unexpected nor problematical that some English prepositions have purely grammatical uses, while others have purely semantic functions. Again, note that the Selkup similitudinal adjective suffix has some of the character of a derivational, not inflectional, suffix. My conclusion, therefore, is that Hungarian nouns regularly and productively inflect for a [Form] feature which effectively defines a set of ‘fused postpositional portmanteaus’. The best way of thinking of the labels for these forms is in terms of the forms themselves. There is no need to generalize over these forms by means of a redundant [Case] feature. Indeed, if we try to do that we encounter all sorts of conceptual conundrums which dissolve as soon as we realize that Hungarian doesn’t actually have a case system.

Abbreviations acc – accusative, adj – adjectivizer, cgfmd – canonical grammatical function marker on dependents, dat – dative, del – delative, gf – grammatical function, iness – inessive, m – masculine, nmlzr – nominalizer, pl – plural, poss – possessor, sg – singular, sim.adj – similitudinal adjective

References Beard, R. 1995. Lexeme Morpheme Base Morphology. Stony Brook NY: SUNY Press. Borin, L. 1986. Is Hungarian a case language? Fenno-ugrica suecana 8: 1–33. Carstairs, A. 1987. Allomorphy in Inflexion. Beckenham: Croom Helm. Comrie, B. 1986. On delimiting cases. In Case in Slavic, R.D. Brecht & J.S. Levine (Eds), 86–106. Columbus OH: Slavica Publishers. Comrie, B. & Polinsky, M. 1998. The great Daghestanian case hoax. In Case, Typology and Grammar, A. Siewierska & Jae Jung Song (Eds), 95–114. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Corbett, G.G. & Fraser, N. 1993. Network morphology. Journal of Linguistics 29: 113–142. Creissels, D. 2003. Suffixes casuels et postpositions en hongrois. Talk delivered to the conference Grammaire des formes faibles, Paris, 6 December, 2003. MS, University of Lyon 2. Kenesei, I., Vago, R.M. & Fenyvesi, A. 1998. Hungarian. London: Routledge. Kiefer, Ferenc. 1987. The cases of Hungarian nouns. Acta Linguistica Academiae Scientarum Hungaricae, Vol. 37: 93–101. Kiefer, Ferenc. 2000. Strukturális magyar nyelvtan III: Morfológia. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Koptjevskaja-Tamm, M.S. 2003. Possessive noun phrases in the languages of Europe. In Plank (Ed.), 621–722. Kuznecova, A.I., Xelimskij, E.A. & Gruškina, E.V. 1980. Očerki po sel’kupskomu jazyku. Moscow: Izdatel’stvo moskovskogo universiteta. Moravcsik, E. 2003a. Inflectional morphology in the Hungarian noun phrase: A typological assessment. In Plank (Ed.), 113–252.

 Andrew Spencer Moravcsik, E. 2003b. Non-compositional definiteness marking in Hungarian noun phrases. In Plank (Ed.), 397–466. Plank, F. 2003. Noun Phrase Structure in the Languages of Europe. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Otoguro, R. 2006. Morphosyntax of Case. A Theoretical Investigation of the Concept. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Essex. Sadler, L. & Spencer, A. 2001. Syntax as an exponent of morphological features. In Yearbook of Morphology 2000, G. Booij & J. van Marle (Eds), 71–96. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Selkirk, E.O. 1977. Some remarks on noun phrase structure. In Formal Syntax, P.  Culicover, T. Wasow & A. Akmajian (Eds), 285–316. New York NY: Academic Press. Spencer, A. 2003. A realizational approach to case. In Proceedings of LFG ’03, T. Holloway King & M. Butt (Eds). (Online: http://csli-publications.stanford.edu/LFG/08/lfg03.pdf) Spencer, A. 2005. Case in Hindi. In Proceedings of LFG ’05, M. Butt & T. Holloway King (Eds), (Online: http://csli-publications.stanford.edu/LFG/10/lfg05.html) Spencer, A. 2006. ‘Heads’ in generalized paradigm function morphology. Talk delivered to the 12th International Morphology Meeting, Budapest, 29 May 2006. Spencer, A. & Otoguro, R. 2005. Limits to case – a critical survey of the notion. In Competition and Variation in Natural Languages. The Case for Case, M. Amberber & H. de Hoop (Eds), 119–145. Oxford: Elsevier. Stump, G.T. 2001. Inflectional Morphology. A Theory of Paradigm Structure. Cambridge: CUP. Tompa, J. 1985. Kleine Ungarische Grammatik. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó.

Case in Ingush syntax Johanna Nichols

University of California, Berkeley This paper reviews the morphological and syntactic patterns and the patterns of lexical derivation in Ingush (Nakh-Daghestanian, Caucasus) in pursuit of a typological generalization about alignment in the language. Morphological case paradigms are almost entirely ergative. Simple clause alignment is split among several salient and several minor patterns. Wherever constraints on syntactic phenomena refer to morphology (and many of them do), they are ergative (verb agreement, agreement climbing, argument sharing in serialization); if constraints are syntactic they refer almost exclusively to subjects (case climbing, reflexivization, control of infinitive). Patterns of lexical derivation are ergative for simplex verbs (a large but closed class) and varied for compound verbs. Overall, there is a good deal of what is at first glance syntactic ergativity but on closer analysis turns out to be due to ergative morphological constraints on syntactic processes.

1.  Introduction It is hard to imagine contemporary descriptive and comparative linguistics without the accessibility hierarchy (Keenan & Comrie 1977), the subfield of relational grammar that it helped engender, and the apparatus for applying typology to description first codified by Comrie & Smith 1977. It is hard to imagine case and cases without dealing with the basic structural issues of economy (Comrie 1986) and the bounds of the case inventory (Comrie & Polinsky 1998). And it is impossible to work on Nakh-Daghestanian morphosyntax without relying on the Tsez and other Daghestanian work of Bernard Comrie and his colleagues. This paper aims to bring together these threads of typologically informed description, typologically based comparison, and the place of case in the grammar, using the results of my work on the Nakh-Daghestanian language Ingush made possible for the last few years by the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology. The basic point of this paper is to show that Ingush has an unusual degree of morphological, syntactic, and lexical ergativity, and much of the non-morphological ergativity is the result of rigid constraints on morphological case, specifically restrictions to the absolutive case.

 Johanna Nichols

2.  Morphological ergativity Ingush has very consistent morphological ergativity. There is an ergative case which is zero-suffixed and is the citation form. All case-bearing words – nouns (simple and derived), pronouns, adjectives, participles, nominalized verb forms – have morphologically ergative paradigms (S=O, A different; I use S, O, and A following Dixon 1979)1 except the third person singular reflexive pronoun and the first person inclusive pronouns, which have neutral inflection (S=A=O). Verbs agree in gender (but not person), and all agreement is on the ergative pattern. There is no morphologically accusative inflection in the language. About one-third of the verb roots of Ingush take gender agreement (prefixal). These include several of the common auxiliaries and light verbs, which increase the text frequency of gender agreement. In addition, the inflectional suffixes of the future and nonwitnessed tenses include fused auxiliaries which agree in gender, so that the number of inflected verb forms that agree in gender is over 50% in running text (well over 50% in most narrative, since that is usually in the nonwitnessed tense). Gender agreement can only be with the absolutive argument: O if one is present, otherwise S or absolutive A.2 (1)

Yz chy-v.axar 3s(v) in-v.go.wp Heˉwentˉhome. (Intransitive;ˉverbˉagreesˉwithˉs.)

.  These letters label argument roles that are independent of either morphological case or semantic role. The A is the less patient-like or theme-like argument of a two-argument or threeargument verb (monotransitive or ditransitive respectively). Semantically it is variously an agent (e.g., with “throw”, “give”), experiencer (“see”, “like”), possessor, etc. Its case is variously ergative, dative, genitive, or absolutive. The S is the sole argument of a one-argument verb and is variously absolutive, ergative, or in other oblique cases (examples below). The O is the more theme-like or patient-like argument of a two-argument verb; it is most often absolutive, but some verbs have oblique O’s. I follow the approach to argument roles and alignment laid out in Bickel & Nichols in press. .  Abbreviations: 1s first person singular, 3p third person plural, etc.; j, v, d, b gender classes and markers; cases: allative, dative, ergative, genitive, lative; no interlinear for absolutive; tenses: nw nonwitnessed, wp witnessed past, prs present; verb forms: auxiliary or light verb, cs causative, cv converb, dx deictic prefix, infinitive, incp inceptive, nz nominalized, red reduplicate; rfl reflexive; & serializing clitic. Period = morpheme boundary of gender affix. The transcription used here is a diacritic-free, Latin-only approximately phonemic practical system described in detail in Nichols 2004 and forthcoming.



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Case in Ingush syntax 

Cuo kinashjka d.iishaa.d 3s(v).erg book(d) d.read.nw.d Heˉreadˉa/theˉbook. (Transitive;ˉverbˉagreesˉwithˉo.)

(3) So qeika-j.yr 1s(j) cough-j.aux.wp Iˉcoughed (Deponentˉverb:ˉcausativeˉmorphology,ˉintransitive,ˉcausativeˉauxiliaryˉ agreesˉwithˉsˉasˉanˉordinaryˉcausativeˉagreesˉwithˉitsˉo.) (4)

Aaz bierazhta axcha d.alar 1s(j).erg child.pl.dat money(d) d.give.wp Iˉgaveˉtheˉchildrenˉmoney (Ditransitive:ˉergativeˉa,ˉdativeˉg,ˉabsolutiveˉo)3

Ingush has many valence frames with oblique case marking of subject and/or object, and in these agreement is strictly controlled by case morphology, not syntax. A dative experiencer subject (whether A or S) or a genitive subject (A) of a possessive verb never controls agreement. An oblique transitive with absolutive subject, a ditransitive with unusual primary-object alignment, and a compound verb with internal gender-bearing object all show agreement with the S, O, or T and hence with only an absolutive: (5)

Marem Muusaaigh cq’azahw cec-j.oal Mariam(j) Musa(v).lat sometimes surprise-J.aux.prs SometimesˉMariamˉisˉsurprisedˉatˉMusa. (Obliqueˉtransitive;ˉabsolutiveˉa,ˉlativeˉo,ˉverbˉagreesˉwithˉa)

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Wa piela shuragh hwal-d.izaa-d.alieˉ… 2s.erg glass(d) milk(j).lat up-d.fill-d.cvirr Ifˉyouˉhadˉfilledˉtheˉglassˉwithˉmilk,ˉ… (Ditransitive:ˉergativeˉA,ˉabsolutiveˉGˉ(‘glass’),ˉlativeˉTˉ(‘milk’).)

(7) Muusaaz nab+j.u Musa(v).erg sleep(j)+j.aux.prs Musaˉsleeps. (Deponentˉintransitive:ˉergativeˉs;ˉlightˉverbˉagreesˉwithˉinternalˉheavyˉ element.)

.  In addition to s, a, and o, I use t and g for the objects of ditransitives: T is the more theme-like object (direct or secondary object) and G the more goal-like one (indirect or primary object). T and G are also pure argument roles, defined independently of case (see again note 1).

 Johanna Nichols

3.  Syntactic phenomena The syntax of agreement and several essential forms of clause combining, especially narrative clause combining, are ergative and restricted to the absolutive case. Control phenomena, chiefly reflexivization and control of infinitives, are broadly accusative, referring to subjects with no constraints on case or on A vs. S. But even here there is evidence of an older state of affairs where control was by A, S, or O, i.e., neutral or at least not accusative. 3.1  Agreement and agreement climbing Agreement of verbs, as shown above, is ergative and strictly absolutive-controlled. There are also some departures from the usual alignment, where again absolutive case is a necessary condition for agreement. In addition to regular in-clause agreement, several auxiliary verbs show agreement climbing (a.k.a. long-distance agreement: see Corbett 2006: 65–66 for a world survey; Matasovic 2007 and Matasovic in press have more examples from the Caucasus and a more general typological analysis; Comrie & Polinsky 1999 for Tzez),4 agreeing with the absolutive argument of their infinitive complement: (8) Kyljg bwiexa-d.ar v.ie v.ieza hand(d) stain-d.nz(v) v.kill.inf v.should Theˉguiltyˉoneˉisˉtoˉbeˉkilled.ˉ(We/they/one)ˉshouldˉkillˉtheˉguiltyˉoneˉ (lit.ˉ‘theˉoneˉwithˉ[blood-]stainedˉhands’;ˉthisˉlegalˉphraseˉcanˉonlyˉreferˉ toˉaˉmaleˉandˉisˉofˉvˉgender) (9) Sag j.oala-j.ie j.ieza wa person(j) j.bring-j.cs.inf j.should 2s(v).erg Youˉshouldˉgetˉmarried.ˉIt’sˉtimeˉyouˉgotˉmarried.ˉ(sagˉjoalaj.u,ˉlit.ˉ‘bringˉsomeoneˉ[fem.]ˉhome’ˉisˉ‘marry,ˉgetˉmarried’ˉofˉaˉman;ˉtheˉ addresseeˉhereˉisˉnecessarilyˉmaleˉandˉtheˉlowerˉobjectˉnecessarilyˉfemaleˉ andˉhenceˉjˉgender)

3.2  Case climbing Agreement climbing in the above examples is accompanied by case climbing, in which the subject of a modal or similar auxiliary takes the case of the subject of its infinitive complement clause. While agreement climbing is strictly dependent on morphology, case climbing is constrained by syntax: the complement subject .  For Ingush I prefer to distinguish climbing, which involves only a clause and its infinitive complement clause, from long-distance processes such as reflexivization, which can reach through an unlimited number of clauses.



Case in Ingush syntax 

(whatever its case) triggers the climbing and its case is what climbs. The following minimal pair is based on a folktale (thus the odd content). (10) has case climbing: ergative aaz “I” is not assigned by b.ieza “should” but climbs up from the transitive complement b.aaqqa “take”. In (11), genitive sy is the case normally taken by d.ieza “should”. The semantic difference is that (10), with climbing, has to do with what is necessary or required to achieve some goal, while (11), without climbing, has to do with appropriateness, general obligation, etc. (Both examples have agreement climbing, with infinitive complement b.aaqqa “take” and modal b.ieza “should” agreeing with cho “hair”.) (10) Massa cho b.aaqqa b.ieza aaz? howˉmany hair(b) b.take.inf b.should 1s.erg HowˉmanyˉhairsˉshouldˉIˉcut?ˉHowˉmanyˉhairsˉdoˉIˉneedˉtoˉcut? (11) Massa cho b.aaqqa b.ieza sy? howˉmany hair b.take.inf b.should 1s.gen HowˉmanyˉhairsˉmustˉIˉcut?=Howˉmanyˉhairsˉareˉsupposedˉtoˉbeˉcut?

A near-minimal pair is the following, in which meg in (12) means “can, may” in the sense “is likely, is possible” and requires case climbing while mog in (13) means “is able, is capable” and does not take case climbing but assigns the dative case. (12) has case climbing, with absolutive Muusaa reflecting the case that “go” assigns to its S; (13) does not have case climbing, and the dative case is assigned by mog and not by chyvaa. (The verb root of mog/meg does not take agreement. The two forms here differ only in conjugation class.)5 (12) Muusaa chy-v.aa meg Musa in-v.come.inf may.prs Maybe Musa will come home. Musa may come home. It could be that Musa will come home. (Infinitive ‘come’ has abs. s) (13)

Muusaaina chy-v.aa mog Musa.dat in-v.come.inf can.prs Musaˉcanˉcomeˉhome.ˉMusaˉisˉableˉtoˉcomeˉhome. (Infinitiveˉ‘come’ˉtakesˉabs.ˉs)

Case climbing is accusative in that the s or a case climbs. (Similarly Kibrik 1981: 39; Polinsky 2000; Comrie 2003: 119 for Tsez, which uses climbing with

.  Kibrik 1981:  36–9 analyzes the pattern in Tsez analogous to (12) as having neither case climbing nor case assignment by the modal verb, but simply an intact infinitive clause, with all of its arguments present and in their regular cases, functioning as the argument of the modal verb. I analyze the Ingush construction as case climbing with a subject position in each clause and obligatory sharing, since the Ingush infinitive always has a shared subject.

 Johanna Nichols

“try” and “begin”. See again note 4.) There are no morphological case constraints: the following examples, all with meg “can, may, is possible”, show that various subject cases can climb (in addition to absolutive S shown in (12) just above): (14)

Aaz yz d.ie meg 1s.erg 3s d.do.inf may Iˉmayˉbeˉableˉtoˉdoˉit.ˉMaybeˉIˉcanˉdoˉit. (Infinitiveˉ‘do’ˉhasˉerg.ˉa,ˉabs.ˉo)

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Suonaˉyz hwa-xaza meg 1s.datˉ3s dx-hear.inf may MaybeˉI’llˉhearˉit. (Infinitiveˉ‘hear’ˉhasˉdat.ˉa,ˉabs.ˉo.)

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Ber sogh qiera-d.ala meg child 1s.lat fear-d.incp.inf may Maybeˉtheˉbabyˉwillˉbeˉafraidˉofˉme. (Infinitiveˉqiera-d.alaˉ‘fear-incp’ˉhasˉabs.ˉa,ˉlativeˉo.)

3.3  Local reflexivization In local, or within-clause, reflexivization, any subject, in any case, reflexivizes a coreferential nonsubject or possessor. (17)

Aaz seina mashen iecad-d.y buy.fut.d 1s.erg 1srfl.dat car I’mˉgoingˉtoˉbuyˉmyselfˉaˉcar. (Transitive;ˉergativeˉsubjectˉreflexivizesˉdativeˉindirectˉobject)

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Shei zhwalegh bierazh qer 3prfl.gen dog.lat child.pl fear Theˉchildrenˉareˉafraidˉofˉtheirˉdog. (Oblique;ˉabsolutiveˉsubjectˉreflexivizesˉpossessorˉofˉlativeˉobject)

Reflexivization is optional for first and second persons, obligatory for third person. Only animates can control it. There are no other constraints, in particular no morphological case constraints. Objects can control reflexivization in one configuration: where the possessor of a subject or another object is coreferential to an object, the object can reflexivize the possessor. This configuration includes contexts of obviation (Aissen 1997) or weak crossover, where the possessor of a subject is coreferential to an object, contexts in which coreference between third persons is problematic in most languages, Ingush included:



(19)

Case in Ingush syntax 

Muusaai zhwalie cynna cerjg+tiexaai Musa.gen dog.erg 3s.dat tooth+strike.nw.J Musa’siˉdogˉbitˉhimj;ˉ*ˉ…ˉbitˉhimi. (Internalˉtˉ’tooth’ˉofˉtheˉcompoundˉverbˉisˉjˉgender.)

Ingush avoids this problem by using object-controlled reflexivization. But examples like (21) below, where an object reflexivizes the possessor of another object, show that Ingush object-controlled possessor reflexivization goes beyond obviation. (20)

Yz shii daaz v.igaa.v 3s 3srfl.gen father.erg v.lead.nw. v o poss a Heˉgotˉintoˉtrouble.ˉ(Lit.ˉ‘Hisˉfatherˉtookˉhimˉaway’) (Absolutiveˉoˉreflexivizesˉpossessorˉofˉ a)

(21) Cynagh shii nenneana c’iˉ+tillaai 3s.lat 3srfl.gen MoMo.gen name+put.nw.J g poss poss p ‘Sheˉwasˉnamedˉafterˉherˉmaternalˉgrandmother’, ‘(They)ˉnamedˉherˉ… (lit.ˉ‘(They)ˉgaveˉherˉherˉgrandmother’sˉname’) (Lativeˉgˉreflexivizesˉpossessorˉofˉp (22)

Deana shii zhwalie cerjg+tiexaai master.dat 3srfl.gen dog.erg tooth+strike.nw.J g poss a p Theˉmaster’sˉdogˉbitˉhim.ˉHisˉownˉdogˉbitˉ(its)ˉmaster. (Dativeˉgˉreflexivizesˉpossessorˉofˉa)

(23)

Shei zhwalii bieregh qer 3p rfl.gen dog child.pl.lat fear Theirˉ(own)ˉdogˉisˉafraidˉofˉtheˉchildren.ˉTheˉchildren’sˉdogˉfearsˉthem. (Obliqueˉtransitive;ˉlativeˉoˉreflexivizesˉpossessorˉofˉabsolutiveˉa.)

(20) is a folk saying and (21) a standard expression, showing that they are traditional, established, and not innovations. (22) and similar examples were easily elicited from several speakers. Such examples are also good in the first and second person, as (24)–(26) show (the folk saying (20) is not idiomatic in the first person as in (24), but it is entirely grammatical); this too goes beyond obviation and shows that the issue is a purely syntactic one of weak crossover or command or the like. (24) So sei daaz v.igaa.v 1s 1s rfl.gen father.erg v.lead.nw.v Lit.ˉ‘Myˉfatherˉtookˉmeˉaway’ (25) Sogh sei nenneana c’i+tillaai 1s.lat 1s rfl.gen MoMo.gen name+put.nw.j (They)ˉnamedˉmeˉafterˉmyˉgrandmother

 Johanna Nichols

(26) Sei/sy zhwalie suona cerjgazh+tiexar 1srfl.gen/1s.gen dog.erg 1s.dat teeth+strike.wp Myˉown/myˉdogˉbitˉme.

(20)–(23) have different morphological cases on a and o, and (21) and (22) have g, or indirect object, controllers, all of which shows that it is subject and object (in the broad sense of object), not morphological cases, that define the context where object-controlled reflexivization is possible. In summary, local reflexivization can be controlled by subject (a=s) or object (o, g, or t). Object control is restricted, but found in conservative contexts suggesting that it may once have been widespread. That is, earlier usage may have had neutral, a=s=o, control, though contemporary usage is more nearly subjectcontrolled and accusative, a=s. There is no evidence of case restrictions on either conservative or innovative usage. 3.4  Long-distance reflexivization Long-distance reflexivization is controlled by any subject and can affect any argument in a serialized or subordinate clause. (27)

Suona shie bwarjg+v.eicha, hwa-’aara-v.ealar sy vosha 1s.dat 3s rfl eye+v.see.cvtemp, dx-out-v.go.wp 1s.gen brother WhenˉIˉsawˉhim,ˉmyˉbrotherˉcameˉout.ˉ(‘WhenˉIˉsawˉhimself,ˉ…’) (Absolutiveˉsˉreflexivizesˉabsolutiveˉo)

(28)

[ˉsei joazuo cuo toa-d.eadˉ] aaz arg-xalcha [1s.gen handwriting 3s.erg forge-d.aux.nw] 1s.erg say.fut-cvtemp whenˉIˉwillˉsayˉheˉhasˉforgedˉmyˉhandwriting (Ergativeˉaˉreflexivizesˉpossessorˉofˉabsolutiveˉo)

(29)

Suona dieza cuo sei nanna nouq’ostal+d.ar 1s.dat d.want 3s.erg 1srfl.gen mother.dat help+d.aux.nz Iˉwantˉhimˉtoˉhelpˉmyˉmother. (Dativeˉaˉreflexivizesˉpossessorˉofˉdativeˉo)

(30) Ber yshtta sixa child so fast

diegha+d.oagha-d.aacar, grow+d.aux-d.neg.pst,

shiina dikaˉhama cy 3s rfl.dat wellˉthing(j) neg

j.u’a-j.uorie eat-j.cs.cvirr

Theˉchildˉwouldn’tˉgrowˉsoˉfastˉifˉitˉweren’tˉbeingˉwellˉfed. (Absolutiveˉsˉreflexivizesˉdativeˉg)

There are some additional grammatical constraints on long-distance reflexivization: two different controllers cannot reflexivize targets in the same clause; presence of a second person in a sentence inhibits long-distance reflexivization of any other



Case in Ingush syntax 

person category; purpose clauses and future time reference inhibit reflexivization. (For these and others see Nichols 2001; forthcoming.) None of these additional constraints refers to case. Overall, long-distance reflexivization is subject-controlled and accusative in alignment (a=s). 3.5  Converbs and serialization Ingush makes extensive use of converb constructions in serialization, subordination, and complementation, and lexicalized or at least conventionalized serial constructions are a mainstay of verbal word formation. Converb constructions are probably the most central and salient feature of Ingush syntax and narrative, and they are ergative in alignment and limited chiefly to the absolutive case, at least in conservative usage. Nuclear serialization, in Ingush, involves a converb and a main verb which share core arguments as well as aspect, tense, and mood. (For nuclear serialization see Foley & Van Valin 1984: chaps. 4–5; Van Valin & LaPolla 1997: 441–484; Crowley 2002; Nichols in press.) The shared argument is either S or O, in the absolutive case. Usually the serialization is S S or O O, but occasionally it is O S. (31) täbaa d.aagha sneakˉup.cvant d.sit.prs ‘liesˉinˉwait’ˉ(e.g.,ˉcat),ˉ‘sitsˉinˉambush’

[SˉS]

(32) j.edda j.exaai J.run.cvant j-go.nw.j ‘ranˉaway,ˉescaped’,ˉlit.ˉ‘havingˉrun,ˉwent’

[SˉS]

(33) hwoa-v.ea v.axiitar [OˉO] move-v.caus.cvant v.go.csind.wp ‘kickedˉ(him)ˉout’,ˉ‘gotˉridˉofˉ(him)’;ˉ‘(he)ˉwasˉkickedˉout’ (34) qeikaa wa-v.iixaa.v call.cvant dx-v.invite.nw.v ‘heˉwasˉsummoned’ˉ(lit.ˉ‘heˉwasˉcalled-invited’)

[OˉO]

(35) qeikaa v.axaa-v.ar [OˉS] call.cvant v.go.ppft.v ‘(he)ˉwasˉinvited’,ˉ‘heˉwentˉbyˉinvitation’ˉ(lit.ˉ‘wentˉinvited’)

(31)–(32) involve intransitive verbs whose S constitutes the entire argument frame. (33) and especially (34) have a shared O but not necessarily a shared A; at least, they can be interpreted as having unspecified A’s, and, though in reality it is likely that the same A performs both actions, this does not seem to be a grammatical necessity.

 Johanna Nichols

In normal Ingush narrative there is no coordination apart from the occasional asyndetic run-on sequence or the occasional “or”; core serialization is used instead. In core serialization, only one argument is shared; aspect is not shared. Core serialization uses the same converbs as nuclear serialization, but differs formally. The hallmarks of core serialization are described by Peterson 2001: the converb is preceded by a Type 5 clitic =’a which takes as its host the direct object if there is one, otherwise the preverb or prefix, or lacking that a reduplication of the verb root. (The clitic is glossed “&” here.) (36) Qaalneaxa barcq’azh t’yˉ=’aˉd.iixaa, woman.gen clothes(d) onˉ=&ˉd.putˉon.cvant cu koa yzj dem.obl yard.adv 3s(v) yzi dem

cuo 3s.erg

v.ie v.oaghazh_xannuu v.kill.inf v.come.cvsim_tns.v

v.iinachyn v.osha v.kill.ppl.nz.gen brother

The brotheri of the man hej had killed had dressed in women’s clothing and was coming to the yard to kill himj. (t’y-d.uux “dress, put on clothes” [A G O]; d.oagha “come” [S]; shared arguments: A S) (37) caar hwacarazh d.izaa barcq’azh hwa=’a d.eaxie, d.filled clothes(d) dxˉ& D.take:ˉpl.cvirr 3p.gen sweat qaalnaaxa d.itta=’a d.ittie,ˉ… women.erg redˉ& d.wash.cvirr (0415) ˉ… they would take off their sweaty clothes and the women would wash them … (hwa-d.oax ‘take (off)’ A O, d.utt ‘launder’ A O; shared: O O, ‘clothing’)

In traditional usage the finite verb (e.g., v.oaghazh xannuu “was coming” in (36)) is usually intransitive and the shared argument is S in that clause. The converb clauses can have an A shared with that S, as in (36), but most often have S or O, always absolutive: (38) Ilisxaa-jurtarcha (placeˉname).adj.obl

Hwazhaz Hadji

ˉ…T’ugiegara Iishwaq’aga t.abl i.all

T’ugiena []ˉ=’a d.anna, t.dat & d.give.cv ant

[]ˉ=’a qeachaa, & arrive.cvant

cy Iishwaq’agara Faadiega []ˉ=’a dem.obl i.abl f.all

qeachaa, arrive.cvant

Faadez handz=a, shie mogazh joacazh k’aljisaachyl F.erg now 3s rfl well j.be:ˉneg.cvsim succumb.csn t’ehwagh, cy after dem.obl

Muusaai veshii vowaa dwaˉ=’a d.anna, m.gen son.gen son.dat dx=& d.give.cvant



Case in Ingush syntax 

cyn vowaga d.y yzh sulhwaazh 3s.gen son.all d.be.prs dem:ˉpl bead.pl(d) Kunta Hadji gave them to T’ugi, from T’ugi they came down to Isaac, from Isaac to Faadii, and when her health failed she gave them to Musa’s nephew and now his son has the beads. [O S S O S]

Younger speakers sometimes allow a shared A in the finite clause, but conservative speakers do not. An oblique participle can be used instead of the converb when the finite clause is transitive, but traditional narrative usually manages to place intransitive verbs at episode boundaries and hence in finite clauses. Thus the clause and sentence syntax as well as the construction of narrative are ergative, limited to S and O and to absolutive case. 3.6  Other nonfinites The only form of complementation requiring a shared argument is the infinitive, which is used only in same-subject complementation. Verbs that take infinitive complements are mostly modal and similar verbs whose own subjects are dative, genitive, absolutive, or the result of case climbing. The infinitive complement is unrestricted as to valence, so the shared subject in the infinitive clause can be A or S and in any case. For example, ghert “try” takes an absolutive subject plus an infinitive clause whose subject needs to be more or less volitional but is unrestricted as to A vs. S and morphological case: (39)

diegha+b.oala-b.ie my ghert vei yz 1pincl 3s body+b.go-v.cs.inf emph try ‘We’reˉtryingˉtoˉmakeˉitˉ(=ourˉlanguage,ˉbˉgender)ˉgrowˉ…’ (Infinitiveˉisˉmorphologicalˉcausative,ˉtransitiveˉwithˉergativeˉ a)

(40)

yz d.y so aala ghert dem d.be.prs 1s say.inf try That’sˉwhatˉI’llˉtryˉtoˉtalkˉabout. (Ditransitiveˉwithˉergativeˉa)

(41)

Aara-d.oallar fyd xaa ghert [txo] outside-d.beˉlocated.nz what=d.be.prs know.inf try [1pex] (We)ˉtryˉtoˉfindˉoutˉwhat’sˉgoingˉonˉoutˉthere.ˉ(Litˉ‘Weˉtryˉtoˉknowˉ…’) (Obliqueˉtwo-argumentˉverbˉwithˉdativeˉa)

(42)

Xoza-j.ala ghert please-j.aux.inf try ‘Sheˉtriesˉtoˉplease’ (Obliqueˉtwo-argumentˉverb:ˉabsolutiveˉa,ˉdativeˉo)

 Johanna Nichols

(43)

Jelsmala d.axa=m ghert vei d.errigazh=’a. paradise.adv d.go.inf=emph try 1pin(d)ˉd.all Well,ˉweˉallˉtryˉtoˉgetˉtoˉparadise. (IntransitiveˉwithˉabsolutiveˉSˉandˉadverbialˉgoal)

Relativization is another syntactic process requiring sharing. In Ingush there are almost no constraints, either syntactic or morphological, on relativization; virtually the entire accessibility hierarchy (Keenan & Comrie 1977) can be relativized on, except for standards of comparison.

4.  Lexical phenomena 4.1  Lexical derivation6 The only regular kinds of derivational pairing of Ingush verbs appear to be ergative in alignment, with an S/O pivot and an optional or added A.  Ingush has a handful of ambitransitive, or labile, verbs whose valence may be described as S/O (±A), where S/O is strictly absolutive. The ambitransitivity has to do with the presence or absence of the A. Such verbs include d.u “be born” and “give birth, bear (a child)”; hwouz “get wound up, tangled, twisted; turn, twist, grow as a vine, be curly (of hair)” and “spin (wool)”; d.uz “get filled up, become full” and “fill”; d.uq’ “get plugged up, be blocked” and “plug, clog, block”; hwiesh “be oppressed, weighed down, under pressure” and “weigh on, oppress”. This pattern appears to be ancient: d.uz “fill” reconstructs with this valence to Proto-Nakh-Daghestanian (Nichols 2003a: 216–17, 257); hwouz “twist; spin” is an old pair with the meanings lexicalized and beginning to drift apart, and with an obviously archaic meaning “spin (wool)” lexicalized while a literal causative hwouza-d.u “twist, wind, make wind” is now overtly derived; other Nakh-Daghestanian languages also have a handful of ambitransitive verbs (Haspelmath 1991). Ingush has a regular inceptive derivation that is productive and formed from nearly every verb. It is an Aktionsart category, approximately ingressive, aspectually perfective, and often implying propensity or ability as well. The inceptive is ambitransitive, having an optional dative A (corresponding to an A, in any case other than absolutive, of the non-inceptive form) and an obligatory absolutive S/O. (44) d.uox ‘break’ (abs.ˉs) d.uoxa-lu ‘break;ˉisˉbreakable’ qier ‘fear’ (abs.ˉA, lat.ˉo) qiera-lu ‘getˉfrightened’

.  Gender-agreeing verbs are cited in the default D gender with a period after the gender prefix.



Case in Ingush syntax 

qiera-d.u ‘frighten’ (erg.ˉA,ˉabs.ˉO) qiera-lu ‘canˉfrighten’7 d.iesh ‘read’ (erg.ˉA,ˉabs.ˉO) diesha-lu ‘canˉread;ˉcanˉbeˉread,ˉisˉreadable’ loac ‘catch’ (erg.ˉa,ˉabs.ˉo) loaca-lu ‘canˉcatch;ˉcanˉbeˉcaught’ mott ‘think’ (dat. a,ˉabs.ˉo) motta-lu ‘canˉimagine;ˉisˉimaginable’ In its S/O pivot, obligatory absolutive S/O, and optional A this derivation is also ergative in alignment. There is a strict morphological case constraint on the S/O and none on the A.

The Ingush direct causative derivation is a canonical one that applies to intransitives, adds an A, and treats the original S as O. More precisely, in Ingush it applies to any verb with an absolutive subject (intransitive or oblique two-argument), and it keeps the original absolutive S or A as absolutive O. “fear” just above has an absolutive A, and intransitives with absolutive S enter into pairs like these: (45)

d.ielx laatt d.arst ieg

‘cry,ˉweep’ d.ielxa-d.u ‘makeˉcry’ ‘stand’ loatta-d.u ‘maintain,ˉmakeˉstand’ d.orsta-d.u ‘fattenˉ(livestock)’ ‘gainˉweight’ ‘shake,ˉmakeˉrock’ ‘shake,ˉquake,ˉrock’ iega-d.u

Thus the formation of the direct causative is morphologically ergative, agreeing with the absolutive O and never with the A. In most of its applications it is syntactically ergative, turning S into O. The pair qier “fear” (abs. A, lat. O): qiera-d.u “frighten” (erg. a, abs. o=causee) turns A into O; this is accusative in the sense that the A here corresponds to the S of other input verbs, but the A-O pivot is not an ergative pattern. Verbs with absolutive A are not numerous so the great majority of verb pairs formed with causative morphology are syntactically ergative. Ingush causativization can probably best be described as syntactically ergative with one extension where it is morphologically but not syntactically ergative. The same suffixes as for the inceptive and direct causative are also used to derive pairs of deadjectival verbs. These pairings are morphologically and syntactically ergative, in that the absolutive S of the one verb is the absolutive O of the other. (46) d.waaixa ‘hot’ d.woax-lu ‘getˉhot’ d.woax-d.u ‘makeˉhot’ (47) shiila ‘cold’ shal-lu ‘getˉcold,ˉgetˉchilled’ shal-d.u ‘chill,ˉmakeˉcold’

.  qiera-d.u is the direct causative of qier “fear”. In the inceptive of a direct causative, the causative suffix is dropped, so the form qiera-lu is ambitransitive (A) S/O corresponding to both simple and causative verbs. The examples just below in the text derived from simplex transitives are ambitransitive in the same way.

 Johanna Nichols

(48) c’ie ‘red’ c’ii-lu ‘blush’ c’ii-d.u ‘forge,ˉmakeˉred-hot’

Ingush has nothing like an applicative or other derivation that transitivizes by adding an object, such as “laugh” : “laugh at, ridicule, mock”. Such derivations have an accusative pivot, in that the S of “laugh” is the A of “mock”, and they are utterly foreign to Ingush. Another respect in which Ingush verbal derivation is ergative is that, while some derivations change the case of an A (the inceptive changes any A to dative; the indirect causative changes an ergative A to allative), no process changes the case of an absolutive S or O. The absolutive argument is the pivot of the entire derivational paradigm. There are no accusative or antipassive-like derivational patterns in Ingush. Where other languages have such patterns Ingush simply uses a dummy or unspecified object, e.g., d.u’ “eat” (erg. a, abs. o) : hama d.u’ lit. “eat something” (erg. a, dummy O hama “thing, something”) = “eat, be eating, dine”. What has been said above about verbal derivations and their alignment applies only to simplex verbs. Ingush in fact has a split lexicon. Simplex verbs are a closed class; though unproductive, they contain many high-frequency verbs, so the overall ergativity of their derivational behavior puts a strong stamp on the language. Complex verbs, taking the form of light verb constructions consisting of a lexically heavy piece plus a conjugated light verb, are an open and productive class and also contain a number of high-frequency verbs. Some examples of light verb constructions (light verbs are glossed in capitals): (49) Yz cec+vealar 3s surprise+v.go.wp Heˉwasˉsurprisedˉ(becameˉsurprised,ˉreactedˉwithˉsurprise) (50) Cuo yz cec+veaqqar 3s.erg 3s surprise+v.take.wp S/heˉsurprisedˉhim (51) Bieruo nab+j.u child.erg sleep+j.do.prs Theˉchildˉsleeps (52) Bieraga nab+j.eitarˉaaz child.all sleep+j.do-csind.wpˉ1s.erg Iˉputˉtheˉchildˉtoˉsleep.ˉIˉsentˉtheˉchildˉtoˉbed. (53) Xivˉk’edzh+jeaqqaai water.ergˉboil+j.take.nw.J Theˉwaterˉcameˉtoˉaˉboil.

The choice of light verb for a particular heavy piece must once have been semantically or syntactically motivated, and the first piece of the compound must once



Case in Ingush syntax 

have been an argument of what is now the light verb. Synchronically, however, the combinations are synchronically arbitrary for the most part, and the heavy piece is no longer an argument. The light verb, however arbitrary its semantic connection, governs the same subject case as it does when used as a simplex verb, and this results in a good deal of semantic disconnect between subject cases and verb meanings. (49) is an ingressive state predicate “become surprised” which has an ingressive intransitive light verb. Its causative is formed not suffixally but by suppletion, replacing the intransitive light verb with the transitive “take” (50). The light verbs in this pair agree in gender with the S. (51) is the semantically stative predicate “sleep”, but the compound is literally “do a sleep”, with a transitive light verb that requires an ergative subject and has a causative formed with indirect causative morphology (52). (53) is a prototypically intransitive ingressive state verb with a different transitive as light verb and again with an ergative subject. In both (51) and (53) the first word is the sole argument, i.e., an ergative S. There are enough such compounds that Ingush can be called a split-S language (Nichols 2008). While in (49–50) the light verb agrees in gender with the S of the whole complex verb, in (51–53) its agreement is fixed. This is fossilized agreement with what was once syntactically an argument and lexically a noun but is now the first element of the complex verb.8 These few examples will probably suffice to show that in the complex verb lexicon of Ingush there is no single predominant alignment, and the derivational patterning is quite varied and by no means usually ergative. Cases on arguments, agreement, and whether and how a verb causativizes depend on its light verb and not on the argument structure or transitivity of the entire complex verb.

5.  Historical and typological conclusions All in all, case as a morphological phenomenon is very consistently ergative in Ingush; the few exceptions have neutral alignment, and there are no accusative paradigms in the language. Several of the most important and highest-frequency syntactic phenomena are ergative, and all of these are ergative both syntactically (in that S=O while A is different) and morphologically in the sense that they are restricted to, or have constraints referring to, a particular case and that is absolutive. Some syntactic phenomena are accusative, but these have no case constraints; indeed, it appears that the only case constraints in Ingush are ergative and refer to the absolutive case. One

.  Nab (J gender) “sleep” can be used as a noun in Ingush and declines for case (at least the lative is attested in fixed expressions). K’edzh “boil” is found only in this complex verb.

 Johanna Nichols

of these syntactic phenomena, local reflexivization, is neutral rather than accusative in its conservative form. The Ingush verbal lexicon is split, with complex verbs showing no particular predominant alignment but simplex verbs ergative in their own alignment and in their suffixal derivation. For both simplex and complex verbs, any absolutive argument is the derivational pivot, stable through all derivational and syntactic processes. Ergativity is thus very well installed throughout the grammar of Ingush, both in the grammar itself and in the constraints on the grammar. In general terms, the grammar of argument sharing and pivothood is ergative, while that of control is accusative or neutral (and even that has some ergativity). Ergativity in some of the individual phenomena, such as causativization, is unremarkable, but the consistency of ergativity across the morphology, syntax, and lexicon is remarkable. To judge from the conservative examples of O control of reflexivization and the ergativity of core serialization in conservative speech, Ingush must have had more ergativity and less accusativity at an earlier time. Most of the Nakh-Daghestanian languages have a good deal of morphological ergativity as Ingush does, with noun case paradigms, at least some pronouns, and gender agreement ergative. The close sisters of Ingush, the other Nakh languages Chechen and Batsbi (Tsova-Tush), have grammars nearly identical to Ingush. In the more distantly related Daghestanian languages the alignment of syntactic processes is more variable (see e.g., Kibrik 1985), but in languages preserving gender its agreement is ergative. The lexicon appears to behave as in Ingush throughout the family, with grammatically unconstrained light verb constructions, ergative suffixal derivations, ergative ambitransitivity, and absolutive pivots. The consistent ergativity of the Ingush lexicon is striking, as is the consistency of morphological ergativity in the very old Nakh-Daghestanian family; most families lose ergativity at a faster rate (Nichols 1995, 2003b; Maslova & Nikitina 2006). The Pama-Nyungan family of Australia, for example, is somewhat younger than Nakh-Daghestanian but, like it, has had its daughter languages adjacent to each other with minimal outside influence throught its history; yet the Nakh-Daghestanian languages have retained their morphological ergativity while several Pama-Nyungan languages have lost it. Perhaps the absolutive-centered lexicon and the presence of strict derivational and syntactic restrictions to the absolutive case are what explains the remarkable tenacity of ergativity in Nakh-Daghestanian.9

.  I thank Edith Moravcsik and an anonymous non-linguist for comments. Bernard Comrie, in addition to making the fieldwork on which this paper is based possible (see Section 1), also kindly proofread the presentation copy and enabled me to fix several errors.



Case in Ingush syntax 

References Aissen, J. 1997. On the syntax of obviation. Language 73: 705–750. Bickel, B. & Nichols, J. In press. Case marking and alignment. In Handbook of Case, A.L. Malchukov & A. Spencer (Eds), Oxford: OUP. Comrie, B. 1986. On delimiting cases. In Case in Slavic, R.D. Brecht & J.S. Levine (Eds), 86–106. Columbus OH: Slavica. Comrie, B. 2003. Oblique-case subjects in Tsez. In Non-nominative Subjects, P. Bhaskararao & K.V. Subbarao, 113–127. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Comrie, B. & Polinsky, M. 1998. The great Daghestanian case hoax. In Case, Typology, and Grammar, A. Siewierska & Jae Jung Song (Eds), 95–114. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Comrie, B. & Smith, N. 1977. Lingua descriptive studies: Questionnaire. Lingua 47: 1–72. Corbett, G.G. 2006. Agreement. Cambridge: CUP. Crowley, T. 2002. Serial Verbs in Oceanic: A Descriptive Typology. Oxford: OUP. Dixon, R.M.W. 1979. Ergativity. Language 55: 59–138. Foley, W.A. & Van Valin, R.D., Jr. 1984. Functional Syntax and Universal Grammar. Cambridge: CUP. Haspelmath, M. 1991. On the question of deep ergativity: The evidence from Lezgian. Papiere zur Linguistik 44/45: 5–27. Keenan, E.L. & Comrie, B. 1977. Noun phrase accessibility and universal grammar. Linguistic Inquiry 8: 63–99. Kibrik, A.E. 1981. Materialy k tipologii ergativnosti. Vol. 13–16: Predvaritel’nye publikacii; 140. Moscow: Russian Language Institute, AN SSSR. (Reprinted in Kibrik 2003). Kibrik, A.E. 1985. Toward a typology of ergativity. In Grammar Inside and Outside the Clause: Some Approaches to Theory from the Field, J. Nichols & A.C. Woodbury (Eds), 268–323. Cambridge: CUP. Kibrik, A.E. 2003. Konstanty i peremennye jazyka. St. Petersburg: Aleteia. Maslova, E. & Nikitina, T. 2006. Stochastic universals and dynamics of cross-linguistic distributions: The case of alignment types. Ms, Stanford University. (http://www.stanford. edu/~emaslova/publications/ergativity) Matasovic’, R. 2007. The “dependent first” syntactic pattern in Kabardian and other Caucasian languages. Presented at Conference on Languages of the Caucasus, Leipzig, December. (www.eva.mpg.de/lingua/conference/07-CaucasusConference/index.html) Matasovic, R. In press. A new typology of control constructions. In Studies in Role and Reference Grammar (Proceedings of the RRG Conference, Mexico City, August 2007), eds. Lilián Guerrero, Sergio Ibáñez, Valeria A. Belloro. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Nichols, J. 1995. Diachronically stable structural features. In Historical Linguistics 1993: Papers from the Eleventh International Conference on Historical Linguistics, H.  Andersen (Ed.), 337–356. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Nichols, J. 2001. Long-distance reflexivization in Chechen and Ingush. In Long Distance Reflexives, P. Cole, G. Hermon & C.-T.J. Huang, 255–278. New York NY: Academic Press. Nichols, J. 2003a. The Nakh-Daghestanian consonant correspondences. In Current Trends in Caucasian, East European, and Inner Asian Linguistics: Papers in Honor of Howard I. Aronson, D.A. Holisky & K. Tuite (Eds), 207–251. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

 Johanna Nichols Nichols, J. 2003b. Diversity and stability in language. In The Handbook of Historical Linguistics, B. Joseph & R. Janda (Eds), 283–310. London: Blackwell. Nichols, J. 2004. Ingush-English Dictionary. London: Routledge/Curzon. Nichols, J. In press. Juncture-based split alignment and aspectuality in Ingush. Studies in Role and Reference Grammar (Proceedings of the RRG Conference, Mexico City, August 2007), eds. Lilián Guerrero, Sergio Ibáñez, Valeria A. Belloro. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Nichols, J. Forthcoming. Ingush Grammar. Nichols, J. 2008. Why are stative-active languages rare in Eurasia? Typological perspective on split subject marking. In The Typology of Semantic Alignment Systems, M.  Donohue & S. Wichmann. Oxford: OUP. Peterson, D.A. 2001. Ingush ‘a: The elusive Type 5 clitic? Language 77: 144–155. Polinsky, M. 2000. Tsez beginnings. BLS 25S.14–29. Polinsky, M. & Comrie, B. 1999. Agreement in Tsez. Folia Linguistica 33: 109–130. Van Valin, R.D., Jr. & LaPolla, R.J. 1997. Syntax: Structure, Meaning, and Function. Cambridge: CUP.

Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian George Hewitt A number of apparently anomalous features in the marking of arguments are examined in three contiguous languages spoken in Transcaucasia: Abkhaz from the North West Caucasian family, and Georgian and Mingrelian, two South Caucasian (or Kartvelian) languages. Among the categories examined are those of potentiality, unwilling/accidental activity, causation, (in)transitivity, and non-standard case-assignment, as well as the much debated question of whether Georgian (and, by extension, Proto-Kartvelian) is correctly described in part of its morpho-syntax as exemplifying an Ergative as opposed to an Active configuration. There are passing references to such other languages as (Indo-European) Ancient Greek, (North West Caucasian) Circassian and (Kartvelian) Svan.

1. The article considers a medley of features in three languages spoken in western Transcaucasia: Abkhaz, a member of the North West Caucasian (NWC) family, in Abkhazia in the extreme north-west of the region; Georgian, a South Caucasian language and the state-language of Georgia; Mingrelian, another South Caucasian language, which historically has been a buffer between Abkhaz and Georgian. 2. The interest in the argument-structure of Abkhaz has nothing to do with cases, as this language does not make use of them to mark its verbal arguments All three members of NWC (Abkhaz-Abaza, Circassian, Ubykh) possess three sets of pronominal agreement-affixes, which are differentiated from one another principally by sequential ordering in the verb’s preradical structure and secondarily sometimes by modification to the markers themselves. The Abkhaz affixal sets are:

 George Hewitt

Table 1.  Abkhaz Verbal Agreement-prefixes

Singular

Plural



I

II

III

I

II

III

1st 2nd Masc/N-Hum 2nd Fem 3rd Masc Hum 3rd Fem Hum 3rd N-Hum

s-1 w- b- d- d- j-/Ø-

s- w- b- j- l- ɑ-/Ø-

s-(/z-) w- b- j- l- (n)ɑ-

A- ∫w- ∫w- j-/Ø- j-/Ø- j-/Ø-

A- ∫w- ∫w- r-(/d-) r-(/d-) r-(/d-)

A-(/ɑ: -) ∫w-(/Šw-) ∫w-(/Šw-) r-(/d-) r-(/d-) r-(/d-)

The way the system operates can be illustrated as follows: Monovalent intransitive Ÿ (1) ɑ- lɑmp’ɑ Ø-ps6-Ø-jt’ the-lamp it-die-past-fin(=aor)2 ‘The lamp went out’ Bivalent intransitive Ÿ Ÿ (2) ɑ-dz-kwɑ s-ɑn j6- l6-tsAɑ-wɑ-n the-flea-pl my-mother they-her-bite-dyn-fin(=imperf) ‘(The) fleas were biting3 my mother’ Bivalent transitive (3) r-ɑb s-ɑn d6-j-’bɑ-Ø-jt’ their-father my-mother her-he-see-past-fin(=aor) ‘Their father saw my mother’ Trivalent transitive (=ditransitive) (4) r-ɑb s-ɑn ɑ-’pɑrɑ Ø-’l6-j-tɑ-Ø-jt’ their-father my-mother the-money it-her-he-give-past-fin(=aor) ‘Their father gave the money to my mother’

.  A bracketed schwa could be added to each of the single consonants in this chart, and in the immediate neighbourhood of/A/the close (schwa) vowel is lowered to the language’s open vowel. .  Regarding glossing-conventions, a bracketed gloss preceded by an equals-sign, as in this final element, means that the morpheme in question (here the Aorist tense) is a function of the combination of more than one of the individually glossed morphemes (here Past + Finite). A bracketed hyphen in the original means that there is a morpheme-division which is not germane to any line of argument, and thus the individual morphemes are not assigned glosses. .  From the affixal structure of Abkhaz there can be no doubt that this verb is construed as a bivalent INtransitive, however counter-intuitive this might appear from an anglocentric point of view.



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

As intransitives contain no ‘agent’-affix (viz. one from set III, which stands second in bivalent or third in trivalent transitives), they have a slot free to accommodate one, when an additional argument is added under synthetic causativisation, which is marked by pre-radical/r-/: Monovalent intransitive causativised Ÿ (1ʹ) s-ɑn ɑ- lɑmp’ɑ Ø-l6-r-’ps6-Ø-jt’ my-mother the-lamp it-she-caus-die-past-fin(=aor) ‘My mother extinguished the lamp’ Bivalent intransitive causativised Ÿ j6-l-’j6-r-tsAɑ-wɑ-n (2ʹ) r-ɑb ɑ-dz-kwɑ s-ɑn their-father the-flea-pl my-mother them-her-he-caus-bite- dyn-fin(=imperf) ‘Their father was making/letting the fleas bite my mother’

The process is not quite as simple when a bivalent transitive is causativised, as the agent-slot is already filled. The problem is resolved in the way predicted by Comrie (1976): the causee is transformed into the indirect object of the causativised verb and marked with the affixal set employed for indirect (and oblique) objects, namely set II, leaving the causer to be marked (by the appropriate set III affix) as the causativised verb’s agent: (3ʹ) (sɑ(-’rɑ)) r-ɑb s-ɑn d6-j-s6-r-’bɑ-Ø-jt’ I their-father my-mother her-him-I-caus-see-past-fin(=aor) ‘I caused their father to see my mother/showed my mother to their father’

Though quadrivalent verbs are not absolutely excluded in Abkhaz, as demonstrated by: (5) j6-Aɑ-z-’r6-j-tɑ-Ø-jt’ it/them-us-for-them-he-give-past-fin(=aor) ‘He gave them it/them (e.g., greeting(s)) on behalf of us’,

the language prefers to avoid them, and so a causativised ditransitive is treated analytically, e.g., (4ʹ) (sɑ(-’rɑ)) r-ɑb s-ɑn ɑ-’pɑrɑ Ø-’l6-j-tɑ-r(-)tw’ I their-father my-mother the-money it-her-he-give-result Ø-q’ɑ-s-‘ts’ɑ-Ø-jt’ /Ø-j6-‘s6-r-q’ɑ-ts’ɑ-Ø-jt’ it-prev-I-make-past-fin(=aor) it-him-I-caus-prev-make-past-fin(=aor) ‘I got4 their father to give the money to my mother’

.  As this example demonstrates, the lexical causative verb in such circumstances can itself be causativised.

 George Hewitt

These examples suggest that everything is pretty straightforward in Abkhaz and that arguments are easily identifiable from the verb’s affixal structure. Occasionally, however, a puzzle emerges. 2.1  Compare the following, both insignificantly adapted from folk-tales: (6) (jɑ(-’rɑ)) j6-pɑ-’t.wɑ d-ɑ: -’r6-pχjɑ-Ø-jt’ he his-son-pl he-prev-them-summon-past-fin(=aor) ‘He summoned his sons’ vs. (7) j6-’pɑ d-’ɑ: -l-pχjɑ-Ø-jt’ his-son him-prev-she-summon-past-fin(=aor) ‘She summoned his son’

The verb-root/-pχjɑ-/and associated orientational (sometimes modal) preverb/-ɑ:-/ are the same, but, whilst in example (7) the verb is treated as a bivalent transitive, in example (6) it is treated as a bivalent intransitive, the stress-patterning helping to distinguish them. Again compare the different affixal patterning in these verbs: (8) s-ɑn s-χ6 d-ɑ-gw’dz6-Ø-jt’/ Ø-l6-gw’dz6-Ø-jt’ my-mother my-head she-it-kiss-past-fin(=aor) it-she-kiss-past-fin(= aor) ‘My mother kissed my head’

where now only the affixal patterning differs. But regardless of patterning, the arguments are easily identifiable: with intransitives (whether mono- or bivalent) the first affix in the sequence marks the subject, any second affix being the indirect, or possibly the oblique, object (sc. where the affix is ‘governed’ by a preverb), as in: (9) ɑ-’z‰6 ɑ-’gwɑrɑ j-ɑ-’χ6-pɑ-Ø-jt’ the-horse the-fence it-it-prev-jump-past-fin(=aor) ‘The horse jumped over the fence’

and with transitives it is the affix closer/closest to the root which correlates with the subject, as may be demonstrated by the usual control-tests (e.g., reflexivisation). All the verbs in the examples presented above are of the ‘dynamic’ type. Abkhaz also possesses so-called ‘stative’ verbs: (10) ɑ-’χɑrp Ø-s-∫w6-w-p’ the-shirt it-me-on-stat-fin(=pres) ‘I am wearing the shirt’

which corresponds to the dynamic: (10ʹ) ɑ-’χɑrp Ø-s-’∫w6-s-ts’ɑ-Ø-jt’ the-shirt it-me-prev-I-put-past-fin(=aor) ‘I put on the shirt’5

.  Though one might have expected a reflexive here to correlate with English ‘on myself ’, if one considers that the preverbal element is originally likely to have been a nominal indicating



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

or again in: Ÿ (11) ɑ(-) r6j ɑ-C’n6 Ø-s-tw’6-w-p’ this the-house it-my-possession-stat-fin(=pres) ‘This house belongs to me’ or ‘I own this house’

But where is the subject here? Assuming that the meaning equates to ‘belong to’, then ‘house’ could be interpreted as subject. But if the meaning is rather ‘own’, then the first person singular affix would become subject. Since the reflexive with many (?most) Abkhaz verbs is identical to the lexeme ‘head’ combined with appropriate possessive prefix, the relevant sequence with this verb, namely: (11ʹ) s-χ6 Ø-s-tw’6-w-p’ my-head/self it-my-possession-stat-fin(=pres)

permits both the interpretations ‘My head belongs to me’ and ‘I own myself ’, which is unhelpful, although, if one considers this verb’s reciprocal form, one finds it is the typically intransitive reciprocal formant/-ɑj-/which has to be employed, and this suggests that the correct interpretation of (11ʹ) is ‘My head belongs to me’, viz.: (12) A-ɑj-’tw’6-w-p’ we-rec-belong-to-stat-fin(=pres) ‘We belong to each other’6

However, for the similarly patterning verb ‘want’, one would definitely prefer to take the affix standing next to the root as the subject-marker: (13) s-χ6 Ø-s-tɑ’χ6-w-p’ my-head/self it-I-want-stat-fin(=pres) ‘I want myself ’

One cannot say: (13ʹ) *s-χ6 s-ɑ-tɑ’χ6-w-p’ my-head/self me-it-want-stat-fin(=pres) ‘My head/self wants me’

‘body/torso’ incorporated within the verbal complex to function preverbally, then the absence of a reflexive becomes understandable, as the notion will have been ‘I placed on my body/torso the shirt’, from which it would follow that the stative form in (10) could be glossed as ‘it-my-bodystat-fin(=pres)’ and thus produce a literal translation of ‘The shirt is on my body’. .  Or ‘We are each other’s possession’?

 George Hewitt

and the reciprocal affix employed with this verb is typically the one that replaces an agent-affix (for fuller discussion see Hewitt 1979): (14) A-ɑj(-)bɑ-tɑ’χ6-w-p’ us-rec-want-stat-fin(=pres) ‘We want each other’

Though Abkhaz today makes no use of case to mark arguments, the likelihood is that it once did possess a case-system similar to that of the sister-languages. But even with such a system, where, to take Circassian, one finds a (definite) Absolutive case in /-r/ vs. a (definite) Oblique case in /-m/ (the latter fulfilling such functions as Ergative, Genitive and Dative), case alone does not unambiguously indicate grammatical role, as both Ergative- and Dative-functions are packaged within the one morphic shape. Nor, as already demonstrated, does verbal category alone necessarily predict the argument-structure of the associated affixes, given the variations in (6)–(8). 2.2  A further peculiarity arises when one takes into account the marking of (a) potentiality or (b) the idea that a verbal action is carried out unintentionally (sometimes by mistake). If the verb is intransitive (i.e., does not contain a set III agent-affix), then the relevant prefix is simply inserted at the appropriate point in the verbal complex’s preradical structure:7 (15) s6-z-tsɑ-’wɑ-m I-pot-go-dyn-not(=fin.pres) ‘I cannot go’

where the potential-marking /-z/ stands immediately after the intransitive subject affix. This contrasts with: (16) ‘j6-Ø-kw6-r-χ-χjɑ-jt’ ɑ-rt ɑ-dɑw-’t.wɑ --- sɑ(-’rɑ) them-it-on-they-take-perf-fin this-pl art-ogre-pl me s6-r-‘z6-Ø-kw6-m-χ6-Ø-jt’ me-they-pot-it-on-not-take-past-fin(=aor) ‘These ogres have liquidated them (literally: carried them off from it [the surface of the earth]) … me they couldn’t destroy’

where it can be demonstrated that the second clause’s agent-marker is not a member of the typically agentive set III but belongs to the typically indirect-/obliqueobject marking set II.8 The same applies to the prefix marking unwillingness on the part of the subject/agent, as seen in:

.  Though the potential prefix is usually associated with a negative or interrogative, this requirement is not absolute. .  Hewitt (1979) gives details. In short, normal agent-affixes stand immediately before the verb-internal negative, and, if the agent is 3rd person non-human singular and the complex



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

(17) ɑ(-)q’әr(-)‘q’әr(-)Awɑ ‘d-ɑmχɑ-t∫t∫ɑ-Ø-jt’ raucously he-unw9-laugh-past-fin(=aor) ɑ-’wә(-)trɑ(-)q’ɑ(-)ts’ɑ(-)Cә the-gardener ‘The gardener, despite himself, laughed out raucously’

which parallels the intransitive verb of (15), whereas the transformation of an underlying transitive verb (‘eat’) to provide a parallel with (16) is seen in: (18) ɑ-bAwɑ-’gwɑtj-kwɑ Ø-j-ɑmχɑ-’fɑ-Ø-zɑ(-)r, the-plum-stone-pl them-he-unw-eat-past(=non.fin)-if Ÿ d-ɑ-χ6-p s-ɑ:-Ø-r Ø-’ɑ-l-‰ɑ-wɑ-jt’ he-it-of-die-suff-past(=non.fin)-if it-it-prev-be-possible-dyn-fin(=pres) ‘If he ate the plum-stones accidentally/by mistake, he may die of it’

With bivalent intransitives the potential prefix splits subject- and indirect-objectmarkers, as in: (19) d6-z-s-’m6-s6-Ø-jt’ (s)he-pot-me-not-hit-past-fin(=aor) ‘(s)he couldn’t hit me’

Some potentials present anomalies, which I investigated in 1999,10 but here everything behaves predictably. However, when one associates the prefix of unwillingness with the verb-root illustrated in (2) and (2ʹ), the prefix stands after (rather than before) the indirect-object-marker, which for some speakers at least seems to lead to confusion as to which of the verb’s two arguments is the agent and which the patient: (20) d-’s-ɑ/6mχɑ-tsAɑ-Ø-jt’ (s)he-me-unw-bite-past-fin(=aor) ‘(s)he accidentally bit me’

contains a preverb or is tripersonal, it takes the shape /-nɑ/ – here, for example, the verb-form in the first clause of (16) would with such an agent be /‘jә-Ø-kw-nɑ-χ-χjɑ-jt’/ ‘It has destroyed them’. However, when a 3rd person non-human singular entity functions as indirect/oblique object, it can only take the form /-ɑ/ – here the verb-form in the second clause of (16) would in that case be /s-ɑ-’zә-Ø-kw’-m-χә-Ø-jt’/ ‘It could not destroy me’. .  This affix has no role in Abkhaz external to the verb, whereas the potential affix is to be related to the verb-external postposition of benefaction /-z’/ ‘for’. .  On p. 197 of that article the verb-form quoted in the penultimate line of text is the same as presented in example (4), namely (with transcription adapted to that used in the present article) /j-ɑ-z-‘k’әlә-m-χә-Ø-jt’/; it should have read /j-ɑ-z-’k’әlɑ-m-χә-Ø-jt’/.

 George Hewitt

Speakers who suggest this form rather means ‘I accidentally bit him/her’ are probably seduced into treating the verb as transitive by virtue of the fact that in transitives this (sc. post-set II affixal slot) is the position adopted by this prefix. Clearly the question to be investigated is why the prefix should find itself so deeply embedded in bivalent intransitives (rather than immediately follow the initial pronominal prefix), but this peculiarity does not affect the point being made here, namely that in transitive structures the normal affixal patterning is altered. Abkhaz has no diathetic (sc. active vs. passive) opposition, and so it cannot be argued that transitive structures containing a prefix indicating potentiality or unwillingness are in any way passivised (or have arisen out of passive structures). Control-tests indicate that it is the argument signalled by the indirect/oblique object-marking affix within the verbal complex which functions as subject. We have, then, with these verb-forms examples of pure subject-demotion. And Abkhaz is not alone in the region in associating structural changes with these categories. 3.  The South Caucasian (Kartvelian) family, consisting of Georgian, Svan, Laz and Mingrelian (the latter two being treated within Georgia as co-dialects of a language called Zan), marks its arguments by a combination of pronominal crossreferencing and case-marking. Differently from North West Caucasian, an active vs. passive opposition does exist here. Consider first Georgian’s two agreement-systems: Table 2

Singular

Plural

Agreement-pattern A in Georgian 1st person v- v- 2nd person Ø(/χ)- Ø(/χ)- 3rd person      -s/ɑ/f

-t -t -(ɑ/ε)n/εs/nεn11

Agreement-pattern B in Georgian 1st person m- 2nd person g- 3rd person Ø(s/h)-

-t (-t)

gv- g- Ø(s/h)-

The appropriate affix from Set A is universally selected to mark the subject for (monovalent) intransitives, and the case is Nominative: (21) kɑl-i dŠd-εb-ɑ woman-nom sit-ts-3pA[=pres] ‘The woman is sitting down’

.  The agreement-suffixes for the 3rd person vary according to the tense or mood (or, in kartvelological parlance, ‘screeve’) of the relevant finite verb.



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

Georgian can indicate within its verbs the presence of an indirect object. We can add such an argument to (21) by placing the relevant noun in the Dative case, adding the so-called Objective Version vocalic prefix to the verb,12 and using its Set B correlate to cross-reference the Dative: (21ʹ) kɑl-i mεgfbr-εb-s gvεrd-zε Ø-u-dŠd-εb-ɑ(-t) woman-nom friend-pl-dat side-at 3pB-ov-sit-ts-3pA(-PLB) ‘The woman is sitting down beside her friends’

Because of structural (and, for transitives, syntactic) variation, Georgian TMA (or ‘screeval’) paradigms are divided into three so-called Series. In Series I transitives have their subject in the Nominative, cross-referenced by a Set A affix, their direct object (plus any indirect object) in the Dative, cross-referenced by a Set B affix: (22) kɑl-i ts’εr(-)il-s Ø-ts’εr-s woman-nom letter-dat 3pB-write-3pA[=pres] ‘The woman is writing a/the letter’ (22ʹ) kɑl-i mεgfbr-εb-s ts’εr(-)il-s Ø-s-ts’εr-s woman-nom friend-pl-dat letter-dat 3pB-3pioB-write-3pA[=pres]13 ‘The woman is writing a/the letter to (her) friends’

Depending on the type/class of verb, transitives can be transformed into corresponding intransitives, some, but not all, of which can convey passive meaning, in one of three ways, styled: markerless, suffixal, and prefixal.14 The suffixal method employs the post-radical element /-d-/ in the first two screeve-Series and, in Series I, the thematic suffix /-εb-/: (23) sɑχl-s v-Ø-ɑ-∫εn-εb vs. sɑχl-i ∫εn-d-εb-ɑ house-dat 1pA-3pB-nv-build-ts[=pres] house-nom build-suff-ts- 3pA[=pres] ‘I am building a house’ vs. ‘The/A house is being built’

An associated indirect object here would produce: (23ʹ) sɑχl-i mfχuts-eb-s gv-i-∫εn-d-εb-ɑ house-nom old-pl-dat usB-ov-build-suff-ts15-3pA[=pres] ‘A house is being built for us old folk’

.  Not all indirect objects require this versioniser. .  The relative ordering of the direct and indirect object prefixes is conjecture, as one of them will, for reasons we cannot discuss here, always be zero. Note that the s-prefix is never used to cross-reference direct objects, whilst the bracketed t-pluraliser from Set B only very rarely does. .  If the underlying agent is expressed, it stands in the Genitive case, governed by either of the postpositions /miεr/ or /-gɑn/ ‘by’. .  Since thematic suffix /-εb-/ is found in both transitives (23) and intransitives (23ʹ), its presence alone encodes nothing – it is the combination of markers that defines a form’s (in)transitivity.

 George Hewitt

The markerless intransitive employs no special prefix or suffix, as illustrated by the verb-form in (21) and (21ʹ). Prefixal intransitives employ in the first two screeveSeries the prefix/i-/and, in Series I, usually the thematic suffix /-εb-/: (24) [∫εn] ts’εr(-)il-s Ø-Ø-ts’εr vs. ts’εr(-)il-i i-ts’εr-εb-ɑ you nom letter-dat 2pA-3pB-write[=pres] letter-nom pref-write-ts- 3pA[=pres] ‘You are writing a letter’ vs. ‘A letter is being written’

When an indirect object is associated with an intransitive whose monovalent form is produced prefixally, the prefix /i-/ is replaced by /ε-/: (24ʹ) ts’εr(-)il-i g-ε-ts’εr-εb-ɑ letter-nom 2pB-io pref-write-ts-3pA[=pres] ‘A letter is being written to/for you’

With these preliminaries out of the way, we can investigate how Georgian handles potentiality and unwilling/accidental actions. 3.1  Potentiality is, quite simply, an inherent feature of (at least some) prefixal intransitives and indeed for a few their primary one: (25) ε(-)s tvinf i-sm-εb-ɑ, i(-)s χfrts-i this wine nom pref-drink-ts-3pA[-pres] that meat-nom i-t∫’m-εb-ɑ pref-eat-ts-3pA[=pres] ‘This wine is drinkable, that meat edible’

and any Dative nominal associated with such a verb can be interpreted as the argument possessed of the potential to effect the action: (25ʹ) ε(-)s tvinf ɑdɑmiɑn-s ɑr Ø-ε-sm-εb-ɑ, this wine nom human-dat not 3pB-io pref-drink-ts-3pA[=pres] i(-)s χfrts-i ɑr Ø-ε-t∫’m-εb-ɑ that meat-nom not 3pB-io pref-eat-ts-3pA[=pres]

‘No human can drink this wine or eat that meat’

Which of the two nominals represents the verb’s subject? Considering that it is the Dative nominal that imposes its plurality on the verb and also controls the reflexive possessive in: (26) m(-)∫(-)fb(-)l-εb-s tɑv(-)iɑnt-i ∫v(-)il-εb-i gɑnɑ parent-pl-dat own-agr child-pl-nom really? Ø-ε-k’vl-εb-ɑ-t 3pB-io pref-kill-ts- 3pA-PLB[=pres] ‘Does one really suppose that parents are able to kill their children?!’



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

one must conclude that the Dative argument is functioning as subject, otherwise one would have expected the Nominative nominal to have imposed its plurality on the verb (giving/*Ø-ε-k’vl-εb-i-ɑn/). Now, Georgian has a class of so-called ‘inverted’ verbs (including ‘love’, ‘want’, ‘have’) which take Dative subjects and Nominative direct objects; these behave the same way (and, indeed, are in part formally identical to the bivalent potentials just introduced) as illustrated in (26). Interestingly, an actual shift in subjecthood is attested for these verbs. Consider the clause ‘if ye love them which love you’ from Luke 6.32. Old Georgian (mss. CDE, whose date of copying is respectively: 897, 936, and 973) has: (27) ukuε(-)tu g-i-q’uɑr-d-ε-n tkuεn mf(-)q’uɑr(-)ε-n-i if youB-ov-love-imperf-subj-3p-pla youdat lover-pl-nom tkuεn-n-i your-pl-agr

where it is the Nominative nominal that imposes its plurality on the verb and is thus to be regarded as the subject. Modern Georgian,16 however, has: (27ʹ) tu g-ε-q’vɑr-εb-ɑ-t if youB-io pref-love-ts-3pA-PLB[=fut]

tkvεn-i mf(-)q’vɑs-n-i your-agr lover-pl-nom

where the Dative’s plurality is marked, indicating that this is the nominal serving as subject.17 One suspects a parallel development for the potentials, and, as Georgian (/Kartvelian) has a formal voice-opposition which permits us to derive the bivalent potential construction with its ‘inverted’ morpho-syntax from the passive, one might feel inclined to suggest that Abkhaz has been influenced in this regard by the neighbouring Kartvelian family, given the absence of diathesis in North West Caucasian. But the situation is not quite so straightforward for three reasons. Firstly, we find an exact parallel usage of the Circassian benefactive postposition in preverbless transitives,18 and Kartvelian influence on Circassian is highly unlikely. Consider from West Circassian Temirgoi: (28) Ø-s-fɑ-tx6-r-ɑp 3p-I-pot-write-fin-pres-not ‘I cannot write it’

.  From the Georgian Patriarchate’s Bible. .  The switch from Old Georgian Present Subjunctive to Modern Georgian Future Indicative has nothing to do with the change in marking, for the equivalent Modern Georgian Present Subjunctive would be /g-i-q’vɑr-d-ε-t/, with only the Dative’s plurality being markable. .  In intransitives (and preverbal transitives) Circassian employs a potential suffix (the only strategy available to the third member of the family, Ubykh) that does not affect the verb’s normal preradical affixal structure (see Hewitt 2004: 135).

 George Hewitt

Secondly, valency-altering constructions for potentiality are attested more widely than just South and North West Caucasian. In the Nakh sub-group of North East Caucasian a suffix is added to the lexical verb, which in Chechen-Ingush is the root of the verb ‘give’, and its presence causes the agent to stand in the Dative and the object in the Absolutive(-Nominative), e.g., (Ingush) (29) su:o-nɑ Gz kinɑ∫kɑ-Ø dikɑ d-i:e∫ɑ-l-u I-dat this book4-absol well 419-read-give/pot-pres ‘I can read this book well’ (from Nichols 1994: 123)

And, thirdly, the situation within Kartvelian is not totally uniform. 3.2  Whilst Georgian potentiality is contextually determined insofar as the relevant verb-forms are structurally akin to bivalent intransitives, Mingrelian has a formal marker of potentiality (at least in Series I screeves): (30) ts’ign-i i-t∫’ɑr-u-Ø vs. ts’ign-i t∫kim book-nom pref-write-intr-3pA[-pres] book-nom my

fsur-s wife-dat

Ø-ɑ-t∫’ɑr-u-Ø 3pB-io pref-write-intr-3pA[=pres]

‘A book is being written’ vs. ‘A book is being written for my wife’ (30ʹ) ts’ign-i i-t∫’ɑr-ε-Ø vs. ts’ign-i t∫kim book-nom pref-write-intr/pot-3pA[-pres] book-nom my fsur-s Ø-ɑ-t∫’ɑr-ε-Ø wife-dat 3pB-io pref-write-intr/pot-3pA[=pres] ‘A book can be written’ vs. ‘My wife can write a book’

Indeed, Kartvelian permits even impersonal potentials, both monovalent and bivalent, as exemplified by the Mingrelian near-rendition of the RAF’s motto Per ardua ad astra ‘Through challenges to the stars’, in which Latin sequence the understood verb is the impersonal passive itur ‘it is gone’: (31) ɑ(-)tɑ∫ m[i]-i-rt-ε-Ø thus prev-pref-go-intr/pot-3pA

murεtsχ-εp-i(-)∫ɑ20 star-pl-all

(31ʹ) k’f-s ɑ(-)tɑ∫ wɑ mi-Ø-ɑ-rt-ε-Ø man-dat thus not prev-3pB-io pref-go-intr/pot-3pA murεtsχ-εp-i(-)∫ɑ21 star-pl-all ‘Man cannot get to the stars this way’

.  Ingush has class-marking, and here the Absolutive noun belongs to class 4. .  Cf. Georgian: ɑ(-)sε mi-i-svl-εb-ɑ vɑrsk’vlɑv-εb-is-k’εn. .  In Georgian: /k’ɑts-s ɑ(-)sε ɑr mi-ε-svl-εb-ɑ vɑrsk’vlɑv-εb-is-k’εn/.



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

3.3  How, then, does Kartvelian indicate unwilling or accidental activity? Potskhishvili (1969) has described the Georgian phenomenon, which is basically found in perfective forms. Perfective aspect is usually associated with the presence of a preverb, and for the (admittedly somewhat rare) category of unwitting/accidental action the verb’s regular preverb yields to the complex preverb /∫ε(-)mf-/, a transitive verb being transformed into an intransitive and the unwilling/accidental agent standing in the Dative, e.g., (32) [mε] bɑnk’-is dirεkt’ɔr-s gɑ-v-Ø-lɑndzt-ɑv Inom bank-gen director-dat prev-1pA-3pB-insult-ts[=fut]

vs.

tu [mε] bɑnk’-is dirεkt’fr-i ∫ε(-)mf-m-ε-lɑndzt-εb-ɑ if Idat bank-gen director-nom prev-I/meB-io pref-insult-ts-3pA [=fut] ‘I shall insult the bank-manager’ vs. ‘If I unwittingly insult the bank-manager’

If the idea is ‘kill unintentionally’, somewhat oddly perhaps, it is the intransitive root ‘die’ that is used with a Dative argument, which is interpreted as the unwitting actor in the act of killing; the regular preverb (/mf-/) still yields to/∫ε(.)mf-/: (33) mt’εr-s utsεb mf-v-Ø-k’l-ɑv-d-i enemy-dat straightaway prev-1pA-3pB-kill-ts-imperf-condit-1p 

mɑgrɑm dzm(-)fb(-)il-i rɑ(-)t’fm Ø(-)u(-)nd(-)ɑ ∫ε(-)mf-m-ɑ-k’vd-ε-s but sworn-brother-nom why necessary prev-meB-lv-dieaor-subj-3pA22 ‘I would kill an enemy at once, but why should I be the unwitting agent of the death of a sworn brother?’

Even the non-finite verbal noun with no overt expression of the agent implies ‘killing’ as much as ‘dying’, viz. (34) k’ɑts-is ∫ε(-)mf-k’vd-fm-ɑ23 u(-)bεd(-)ur(-)εb(-)ɑ-ɑ man-gen prev-die-ts-masd[-nom] misfortune-is ‘The unwitting killing/death of a man is a misfortune’

.  The vowel glossed as LV (viz. Locative Version) is another way of associating a Dative nominal with verbs that are (usually) intransitive but not of the prefixal sub-type. .  Glossed in the 8-volume Georgian Academy Dictionary as, and thus synonymous with, the transitive masdar-phrase /k’ɑts-is u(-)nεb(-)liε(-)d mf-k’vl-ɑ/ ‘the accidental killing of a man’, where the notion of non-volitional action is carried entirely by the free-standing adverb /u(-) nεb(-)liε(-)d/.

 George Hewitt

Mingrelian has the same preverbal substitution-strategy, the substituting preverb being /ɑ-/: (35) dɔ-b-tur-u-t vs. wɑ m-ɔ-k’ɔ-n-ɑ prev-1pA-die-intr-pla[=fut] not 1pB-lv-want-3pA-pl[=pres] mɑ(-)χ(-)indŠ(-)i-s ɑ-v-Ø-ɔ-tur-ɑ-ti-n[i] thief-dat prev-1pA-3pB-LV-die-aor-subj-pla-sub

‘We shall die’ vs. ‘We don’t want to die unwittingly at the hands of a thief/a thief unwittingly to kill us’

The masdar-phrase in (34) would produce in Mingrelian /k’ft∫-i∫[i] ɑ-tur-ɑ/.24 4.  There is, then, quite widespread Caucasian evidence for potentiality to require alteration to the valence-patterning of a transitive verb, whilst a similar change is attested for unwilling/accidental activity in at least two of the languagefamilies. Whilst one can account for the resulting ‘inverted’ construction in Kartvelian by hypothesising a shift from an original bivalent intransitive structure, this explanation is hardly available in North West Caucasian or Nakh. Perhaps something more general underlies these phenomena. In actions which are potential or the result of unwitting/accidental activity the entity (possibly) realising the verbal action is hardly a fully blown agent; in one case the action is not even necessarily ever effected, being only a potentiality, whilst in the other the performer is assigned a non-volitional role. If the function of the case that normally marks a transitive subject in the relevant languages is to underline its essential agentivity,

.  Associating the substituting preverbs with the roots for ‘kill’ is possible in both Georgian and Mingrelian, but the verb is not transformed into a bivalent intransitive, possibly because of the presence of the parallel construction with the roots for ‘die’, as illustrated already. However, as direct object the reflexive pronoun (Georgian /tɑv.i/= Mingrelian/dud.i/ ‘head; self ’) must be added. The final verb in (35) could thus be replaced by:

dud-i ɑ-v-Ø-Ø-f-Ɂwil-ɑ-ti-n[i] self-acc prev-1pA-3pB-3pB-lv-kill-aor-subj-pla-sub to give literally ‘We don’t want to kill ourselves upon the thief as unwitting agent’ – why Mingrelian has an Accusative case is explained later in the article. The preverb seems to be semantically associated more with the Dative indirect object. Though the verb here is not a causative, it is semantically close to one, with the Dative nominal being something of a causee (or secondary agent). Exactly the same conundrum is found in Georgian, where the corresponding clause would read:

ɑr gv-i-nd-ɑ kurd-s tɑv-i ∫ε(-)mf-v-Ø-Ø-ɑ-k’l-ɑ-t not weB-ov-want-3pA[-pres] thief-dat self-nom prev-1pA-3pB-3pB-LV-killaor-subj-plA



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

then there would be justification for placing the ‘logical’ subject in a different case when that entity lacks full-blown agentivity. And so, an oblique case, appropriate to the particularities of each language, is selected for the role, possibly accompanied by a subsidiary change (such as the alteration of the preverb to indicate unwitting activity in Kartvelian). 4.1  Of course, it has been argued in recent years (see Harris 1985; Amiridze 2006) that an Active-Inactive opposition is even more centrally relevant to Georgian. I have argued against this interpretation in a number of contributions to the debate (see especially 1987, 1989), but there are additional arguments (see Lazard 1995), and one of them relates to a verb-type that has figured above, namely the bivalent prefixal intransitive. Before discussing this, however, more background needs to be provided on the morpho-syntax of Georgian transitives. 4.1.1  As already stated, intransitives (whether mono- or bivalent) follow the same patterns of case-assignment and agreement for their arguments across all three screeve-series as illustrated above for Series I. The same does not apply to transitives, and so far the only examples of transitives have been from Series I. In Series II screeves (viz. Aorist Indicative and Subjunctive) transitive subjects/agents are characterised by /-m(ɑ)/, a case known in Georgian as motxrobiti, which is literally translateable as ‘Narrative’, and this designation will be employed for the moment not because I want to argue that it is the most appropriate description for the morpheme’s function but simply in order not to prejudge the issue to be discussed – additionally, transitive subjects/agents are cross-referenced on the verb by the same affixal set that indexed this argument when standing in the Nominative for Series I screeves; the direct object stands in the Nominative/Absolutive and is cross-referenced by the same set of affixes that indexed this argument when standing in the Dative for Series I screeves. To illustrate, examples (22) and (22ʹ) are transposed into their Aorist Indicative equivalents: (36) kɑl-mɑ ts’εr(-)il-i dɑ-Ø-ts’εr-ɑ woman-narr letter-nom prev-3pB-write-3pA[=aor] ‘The woman wrote a/the letter’ (36ʹ) kɑl-mɑ mεgfbr-εb-s ts’εr(-)il-i mi-Ø-s-ts’εr-ɑ woman-narr friend-pl-dat letter-nom prev-3pB-3pioB-write-3pA [=aor] ‘The woman wrote a/the letter to (her) friends’

In Series III screeves (Perfect, Pluperfect, IIIrd Subjunctive) transitive subjects/ agents stand in the Dative and are cross-referenced by the affixal set that hitherto has been used to index (in)direct objects; the direct object stands in the Nominative and is cross-referenced by means of the affixal set that has hitherto been

 George Hewitt

associated with (in)transitive subjects; any indirect object is governed by the benefactive postposition and cannot be indexed in the verb: (37) kɑl-s mεgfbr-εb-is-tvis ts’εr(-)il-i mi-Ø-u-ts’εr-i-ɑ woman-dat friend-pl-gen-for letter-nom prev-3pB-ov-write-perf-3pA ‘The woman has (apparently) written a/the letter to (her) friends’

If this were all there were to the Georgian verbal system, the conclusion would be relatively straightforward, namely: in Series I there is Nominative-Accusative alignment (the direct object being treated differently from (in)transitive subjects both in terms of case-marking and verbal indexing); in Series III there is ErgativeAbsolutive alignment (the transitive subject standing apart in the Dative and requiring Set B cross-referencing); Series II would be seen as exhibiting split ErgativeAbsolutive alignment insofar as, whilst the transitive subject stands uniquely in the Narrative case and the Nominative signals both direct object and intransitive subject, in terms of verbal indexing the same affixal set (A) correlates with both transitive and intransitive subjects against the employment of the Set B affixal set to mark direct (and indirect) objects. In fact, Series III is generally accepted to be a relatively late Kartvelian development arising out of stative (and thus originally intransitive) structures such that today’s transitive Series III forms arose out of bivalent intransitives whose indirect (Dative) object became reinterpreted as the subject (just as we argued above happened with the Kartvelian Potentials), no doubt under pressure from the rest of the paradigm, where the IIIrd Series Dative nominal corresponded to the Nominative subject of Series I and the Narrative subject of Series II. For this reason, it is customary to refer to the Series III transitive structure as exemplifying inversion, and ergativity is normally assigned only to Series II, the Narrative case being identified as the Georgian Ergative. Even after consideration of the complicating factor, this remains for me the correct interpretation of Georgian’s IInd Series morpho-syntax, but before examining the complication, one other verbal sub-category needs to be introduced. 4.1.2  Examples already presented have included an array of pre-radical vowels, known as the system of ‘Version’. Encountered so far have been: Neutral Version (/ɑ-/ with some verbs vs. /Ø-/ for others), Objective Version (/i-/ for 1p/2p vs. /u-/ for 3p indirect objects), and Locative Version (/ɑ-/). The remaining member of this set is the Subjective Version in /i-/, which conveys in Ist and 2nd Series screeves a notion of reflexivity: the object could be part of the subject’s body or belongs to the subject, or the action could be carried out in the subject’s own interest: (38) εp’isk’fp’fs-mɑ mtvdεl-i gɑ-Ø-p’ɑrs-ɑ bishop-narr priest-nom prev-3pB-shave-3pA[=aor] ‘The bishop shaved = defrocked the priest’



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

(38ʹ) εp’isk’fp’fs-mɑ (ts’vεr-i / ulvɑ∫-εb-i) gɑ-Ø-i-p’ɑrs-ɑ bishop-narr beard-nom moustache-pl-nom prev-3pB-sv-shave-3pA  [=aor] ‘The bishop shaved (his beard/moustache)’

As (38ʹ) indicates, whilst not necessarily in every case, a predictable direct object can be omitted with a verb so marked. The problematic class of verbs can now be introduced. 4.2  A group of verbs exists whose Present Sub-Series screeves (Present Indicative, Present Subjunctive, Imperfect Indicative) of Series I are formed in a variety of ways. Nevertheless, such verbs generally take the Subjective Version in the remaining screeves of Series I (viz. the so-called Future Sub-Series, which consists of Future Indicative, Future Subjunctive and Conditional); this formant is then carried over into Series II, where the subject stands in the Narrative; Series III is characterised by inversion: (39) gɔgɔ (si(-)mtεr(-)ɑ-s) Ø-mtεr-i-s vs. gɔgɔ 3pB-sing-pres- 3pA girlnom girlnom song-dat

(si(-)mtεr(-)ɑ-s) song-dat

Ø-i-mtεr-εbs vs. gɔgɔ-m (si(-)mtεr(-)ɑ) Ø-i-mtεr-ɑ vs. 3pB-∫V-sing-3pA [=aor] 3pB-∫V-sing-ts-3pA[=fut] girl-narr songnom gfgf-s (si(-)mtεr(-)ɑ) Ø-u-mtεr(-n)-i-ɑ 3pB-ov-sing-?-perf-3pA girl-dat songnom ‘The girl sings vs. will sing vs. sang vs. has (apparently) sung (a song)’

If all the relevant verbs were like ‘sing’, there would be no problem, but the class in question (styled Medial) contains many verbs that signify sound-production or movement, which are never attested with a direct object: (40) dzɑtl-i (?Ø-)q’εp-s vs. dzɑtl-i (?Ø-)i-q’εp-εb-s vs. dog-nom 3pB-bark-3pA[=pres] dog-nom 3pB-sv-bark-ts-3pA[=fut] dzɑtl-mɑ (?Ø-)i-q’εp-ɑ vs. dzɑtl-s Ø-u-q’εp(-n)-i-ɑ dog-narr 3pB-sv-bark-3pA[=aor] dog-dat 3pB-ov-bark-?-perf-3pA ‘The dog barks vs. will bark vs. barked vs. has (apparently) barked’

The argument then goes that, since such verbs appear to be intransitive, what determines the use of the Narrative case to mark their subjects is the semantic feature of activity which Medial subjects share with transitive subjects; the Narrative case should, thus, be seen as Georgian’s Active case and the syntactic alignment of Series II in Georgian should be interpreted as of the Active-Inactive type. When it is pointed out that such common verbs as that signifying motion (/svl-ɑ/) or those meaning ‘sit down’ (/dɑ-dŠd-fm-ɑ/ vs. /dɑ-sχd-fm-ɑ/ if the subject is human plural), ‘stand up’ (/ɑ-dg-fm-ɑ/) and ‘lie down’ (/dɑ-ts’-fl-ɑ/), all of which

 George Hewitt

have subjects acting volitionally and should, therefore, on this analysis, take a Narrative/Active subject but actually require the Nominative, the answer is that there is dialectal evidence for the use of the Narrative and that the ‘conservative’ literary language has yet to conform to Active alignment. Whilst not denying that one future path of development for Georgian’s IInd Series could be precisely for it to shift in this direction, I can see no reason to accept the relevance of this semantic opposition to the current state of affairs manifested across the range of Georgian dialects (literary and non-literary). In addition to dialectal evidence for the presence of the Narrative as subject-marker for the common volitional verbs just listed, this case is also found marking the subject of distinctly non-volitional verbs (I have adduced elsewhere examples of Narrative subjects alongside /mf-k’vd-ɑ/ ‘X died’ and /dɑ-bεr-d-ɑ/ ‘X grew old’). Perhaps more damaging for the hypothesis is the presence in the Medial class of very many verbs which can by no stretch of the imagination be deemed to take volitional subjects (e.g., /dut(-)il-i/ ‘boiling (of liquids)’, /livliv-i/ ‘lapping (of waves)’, /lik’lik’-i/ ‘babbling (of a brook)’, /priɑl-i/ ‘flapping (of a flag)’). And, since Medials share with ordinary transitives not only the presence of a IInd Series subject in the Narrative case but inversion in Series III, why, if Activity is the common feature that determines the morpho-syntax of Series II, is there no evidence for inversion in Series III with the ‘volitional’ intransitives listed above (viz. the verbs for ‘go’, ‘sit down’, ‘stand up’ and ‘lie down’)? The alternative and (to my mind) only plausible explanation of the Georgian data is that, despite appearances, the verb-forms in question are (or, at least, were in their origin) actually transitive outside the Present Sub-Series,25 the Subjective Version allied to typically transitive morphology being the clue to the (historical or underlying) presence of either a reflexive26 or an internal direct object (by which term I mean a noun built from the same root as the verb itself, as in the English ‘die a death’), and this transitive structure is then the basis for the inversion exhibited in their IIIrd Series screeves. What, then, is the further evidence, if any actually be needed, against the Active Hypothesis for Georgian? That evidence is offered below, but it would have been well nigh impossible for anyone new to the problem to appreciate its value without the essentials of the debate to which it contributes having been delineated first – hence the need for the preceding somewhat lengthy setting of the context, which might be already familiar to some readers.

.  Originally Medials only existed in the Present Sub-Series and then filled out their paradigms by borrowing morphologically related forms that happen to be transitive. .  Viz. the noun /tɑv-i/ ‘head’.



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

4.3  A relationship has long been postulated between the Subjective Version vowel and the i-prefix of prefixal intransitives (Deeters 1930). Deeters’ pupil Karl Horst Schmidt in a series of papers comparing Georgian to Indo-European structures devoted one (1965) to a comparison of Georgian’s Subjective Version and the Indo-European Middle Voice. Monro (1998.9), having remarked that ‘the original force of the Middle Person-Endings is ‘Reflexive’; that is to say, they denote that the action of the Verb is directed towards the agent’, goes on (p. 10) to illustrate both a Passive usage and an occasional ‘use intermediate between the Reflexive and the Passive’. Consider Iliad 6.140: (41) ’επεὶ ἀθνάτoiσiν ἀπήχθετo παˆ σi θεoiˆσiν as immortal X made self hateful all godsdat ‘since he had made himself hateful to all the immortal gods’ or Iliad 13.110: (42) oἳ кείνῳ whonom thatdat

ἐρίσaντες ἀμυνέμεν οὐκ ἐθέλουσι having argued to defend not they want

νηω̑ν ω’κυπόρων ἀλλὰ κτείνοντaι ἀν’ aὐτάς but they let themselves be slain on themacc shipsgen swift ‘Who, having quarrelled with him [the commander], have no wish to defend ɑny of our swift vessels, but allow themselves to be slaughtered by them’

What we have here is a kind of reflexive causative. Other examples can be located at: Iliad 13.525 and 23.409, or Odyssey 3.284. Reflexive causation is, of course, precisely what has been argued to lie behind the peculiarity of Georgian’s borrowed Medial forms, which are treated transitively for the reasons given above. But, if the intransitive prefixal vowel is related to the Subjective Version, does Georgian offer any parallels from its intransitive formations? One does not really find anything of interest among the monovalent intransitives, but the situation is different, if one examines the bivalent ones. Consider such occasional examples as: (43) dεdɑ t’k’b(-)il dzil-s Ø-ε-dzl(-)εv-ɑ sleep-dat 3pB-io pref-give-3pA[=pres] mothernom sweet

vs.

mi-Ø-ε-ts-ɑ vs. mi-s-ts-εm-i-ɑ prev-3pB-io pref-give-3pA[=aor] prev-3pB-give-ts-perf-3pA ‘Mother gives vs. gave vs. has (apparently) given herself up to sweet sleep’ (44) bit∫’-i gɔgɔ-s Ø-ε-tsn-ɔb-ɑ vs. lad-nom girl-dat 3pB-io pref-introduce-ts-3pA[=pres] gɑ-Ø-ε-tsn-ɔ vs. gɑ-s-tsn-ɔb-i-ɑ prev-3pB-Iɔpref-introduce-3pA[=aor] prev-3pB-introduce-ts-perf-3pA ‘The lad introduces vs. introduced vs. has (apparently) introduced himself to the lass’

 George Hewitt

We have here manifestly intransitive forms, with Nominative subject across the screeve-Series. But an objection might be that the postulated Active semantics of reflexive causation is a feature not of the Georgian originals but only of the English renditions: might not (43) just be a way of saying ‘Mother fell into a sweet sleep’ or (44) just as acceptably rendered as ‘The lad got to know/was introduced to the lass’, which do not necessarily imply volition on the part of the subjects? For such examples such an objection might not be easily countered. But there is a group of bivalent intransitives not open to such objection. 4.3.1  Georgian, like Abkhaz (and, indeed, other Caucasian languages), possesses a morphological causative, marked by the post-radical suffix /-(εv-)in-/. With an overt reflexive direct object, the causee functions as indirect object: (45) kɑl-i t∫’ir-s tɑv-s Ø-Ø-ɑ-lɑχ-v-in-εb-s vs. woman-nom woe-dat self-dat 3pB-3pB-lv-overcome-ts-caus-ts- 3pA[=pres] kɑl-mɑ t∫’ir-s tɑv-i woman-narr woe-dat self-nom gɑ-Ø-Ø-ɑ-lɑχ-v-in-ɑ prev-3pB-3pB-lv-overcome-ts- caus-3pA[=aor]

vs.

kɑl-s t∫’ir-is-tvis tɑv-i woman-dat woe-gen-for self-nom gɑ-Ø-u-lɑχ-v-in-εb-i-ɑ prev-3pB-ov-overcome-ts-caus- ts-perf-3pA ‘The woman allows vs. allowed vs. has (apparently) allowed herself to be overcome by woe/woe to overcome her’

Here we have a ditransitive verb, whose three arguments are treated exactly as one would expect: specifically, the transitive subject (agent) stands in the Narrative (Ergative) in Series II and, via inversion, the Dative in Series III. The peculiarity of crucial interest to us is that such structures in Georgian have synonyms where the verb surfaces as a bivalent INtransitive, the reflexive direct object of the transitive formation being somehow subsumed within the essentially reflexive intransitive structure of the verb, leaving just two overt arguments (causer and causee): (45ʹ) kɑl-i t∫’ir-s Ø-ε-lɑχ-v-in-εb-ɑ vs. woman-nom woe-dat 3pB-io pref-overcome-ts-caus-intr-3pA[= pres] gɑ-Ø-ε-lɑχ-v-in-ɑ prev-3pB-io pref-overcome-ts-caus-3pA[=aor] gɑ-Ø-lɑχ-v-in-εb-i-ɑ prev-3pB-overcome-ts-caus-ts-perf-3pA

vs.



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

Any causative verb that can substitute for the verb illustrated in construction (45) has an intransitive synonym that can build a parallel like that of (45ʹ). Examples (in the Aorist) include: /gfgf mgεl-s gɑ-Ø-ε-t’ɑts-εb-in-ɑ/ ‘the girlnom allowed/ got the wolfdat to carry her off ’;27 /dŠɑr(-)is(-)k’ɑts-i mt’εr-s mf-Ø-ε-k’vl-εv-in-ɑ/ ‘the soldiernom allowed/got the enemydat to kill him’; /kɑl-i mεzfbel-s gɑ-Ø-εlɑndzt-v-in-ɑ/ ‘the womannom allowed/got her neighbourdat to abuse her’. Even if the notion of permission is felt to be more salient than that of compulsion, this still fits the criterion of volitional activity on the part of a subject in full control of events, which is the fundamental justification proposed in the Active Hypothesis to explain the use in the Aorist of the Narrative case. Yet it is a Nominative subject which these verbs take across all three screeve-Series, and this is exactly what one would expect of intransitives, regardless of their semantics. The conclusion is, I hope, clear: there are no grounds in Georgian to justify classifying it as manifesting in any part of its morpho-syntax the Active-Inactive opposition and the Narrative is, thus, correctly interpreted as Ergative in function. 5.  But one should not conclude that there remain no puzzles as regards Georgian’s argument-structure. There are instances of verbs with patently intransitive morphology taking what looks like a direct object: (46) rɑ-s Ø-?Ø-∫vr-εb-i what-dat 2pA-3pB-do-intr-pres(=2p) ‘What are you doing?’

.  These intransitive variants seem not to exist in Mingrelian where only the transitive structures are found. We would, thus, here have only:

dud-i kɑ-Ø-Ø-ɑ-χwɑmil-ɑp-u dztɑb(-)i-k gεr-s girl-erg/nom wolf-dat self-nom/acc prev-3pB-3pioB-lv-snatch- caus-3pA[=aor]

I am grateful to Gia Karchava for providing this information. He was also the source of the examples in the second part of (35) and in footnote 24, which were his suggestions for rendering into Mingrelian the Georgian: ∫ɑrɑ(-)gz-is q’ɑt∫ɑt-εb-s ɑr gv-i-nd-ɑ not weB-ov-want-3pA[=pres] highway-gen bandit-pl-dat

mf-v-Ø-ε-k’vl-εv(-)in-f-t prev-1pA-3pB-io pref-kill-caus-aor-subj-plA



‘We do not want to get ourselves killed by highwaymen’ where we have the intransitive variant.

 George Hewitt

the origin of the Dative here no doubt lying in its old Locative function28 (?‘In respect to what are you engaging in work?’). When it comes to the occasional such verb that takes two Dative arguments, like: (47) mɑmɑ dεdɑ-s pul-s dɑ-?Ø-h-p’ir-d-ɑ fathernom mother-dat money-dat prev-3pB-3pioB-promise-intr- 3pA[=aor] ‘Father promised mother money’29

It is hardly surprising that speakers commonly ‘regularise’ matters in terms of casemarking, interpreting ‘father’ as transitive subject and ‘money’ as direct object, despite the resulting incompatibility between the syntax of case-marking and the intransitive verbal morphology, to give: (47ʹ) mɑmɑ-m dεdɑ-s pul-i father-erg mother-dat money-nom dɑ-Ø-h-p’ir-d-ɑ prev-3pB-3pioB-promise-intr-3pA[=aor]

There are cases of transitive verbs that take an indirect but no (overt) direct object: (48) mɑmɑ-m dεdɑ-s Ø-s-tsεm-ɑ vs. mεlɑ-m bude-s father-erg mother-dat 3pB-3pioB-hit-3pA[=aor] fox-erg nest-dat mi-Ø-Ø-ɑ-gn-f vs. k’ɑts-mɑ nɑ(-)p’ir-s prev-3pB-3pB-lv-locate-3pA[=aor] man-erg shore-dat mf-Ø-Ø-ɑ-t’ɑn-ɑ prev-3pB-3pB-lv-reach-3pA[=aor] ‘Father hit mother’ vs. ‘The fox located the nest’ vs. ‘The man reached the shore’

To account for these cases one logically reconstructs a fully transitive sequence with originally overt direct object which will have been omitted over time as a result of predictability; for ‘hit’ this will have been the entity brought in contact with the indirect obect, though the construction for this verb too is often ‘regularised’ by marking the entity struck as a normal direct object (Shanidze 1979) – for the other two verbs here it is, admittedly, not so easy to imagine what the missing

.  Any analysis of the verb at that stage of development would presumably not have included any zero-marking of the (then non-existent) direct object. .  Again, in origin, perhaps what Georgian had here was expressible as ‘Father made a promise to mother in respect of money’, with /pul-s/ not representing a direct verbal argument. Some other verbs (in the Aorist) that pattern this way are: /dɑ-?Ø-Ø-ε-nuk’v-ɑ/ ‘Xnom besought Ydat of Zdat’, /∫ε-?Ø-Ø-ε-tsil-ɑ/ ‘Xnom vied with Ydat over Zdat’, /mf-?Ø-Ø-u-q’v-ɑ/ ‘Xnom narrated Ydat to Zdat’, /dɑ-?Ø-Ø-ε-sεsχ-ɑ/ ‘Xnom took Ydat in loan from Zdat’.



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

direct object might have been. And the final verb in (48) often surfaces without either direct or indirect object, making it appear to be a monovalent intransitive despite its tripersonal morphology – note, however, that the Active Hypothesis is equally at a loss to explain the case-marking here: (48ʹ) ∫uɑ(-)tɑmε-m mf-Ø-Ø-ɑ-t’ɑn-ɑ midnight-erg prev-3pB-3pB-lv-reach-3pA[=aor] ‘Midnight came’

For engaging in the sort of argumentation I am advancing to rationalise these anomalies I face charges in some linguists’ dock of falling ‘into the old trap of recapitulating diachrony in synchrony’ or of having to resort to inserting ‘phantom arguments’ into underlying structure (Tuite 1997). In fact, this is a trap into which I am happy to consign myself to lodge there until such a time as a more plausible explanation becomes available – as yet there is none that I find appealing. One of the examples underlying the criticism of resorting to ‘phantom arguments’ concerned a transitive verb-form unaccompanied by any overt subject/ agent: (49) nεt’ɑv sul ∫εn-tɑn would that always youdat-with

m-ɑ-m(-)q’(-)fp-ɑ me-nv-make-be-3pA[=aor]

which is a translation-equivalent of ‘Would that I be with you always!’ but more literally equates to ‘Would that [?God/Providence] let me be with you forever!’ The fact that none of Tuite’s informants ‘ever invoked God, or any other extraterrestrial for that matter, as an explanation for the morphology’ is irrelevant; how many native speakers of English, if asked to provide an analysis, would explain the response ‘Bless you!’ to a sneeze as an abbreviated form of ‘God bless you!’? How many would help an enquiring linguist or foreigner by interpreting the formula ‘Bless!’, which is articulated (largely by believers) in other contexts, as being the subjunctive form of the verb with 3rd person subject? Not many, I would wager. And just because one researcher’s informants offer no concrete subject for this verb does not mean that there is no evidence for one, if one only looks for it. Consider two examples on consecutive pages in the play ubedureba ‘Misfortune’ from the 1981 2-volume collected works of the distinguished Georgian writer Davit K’ldiashvili, wherein the first lacks an overt subject for a clearly transitive verb in Objective Version, whilst the second instantiation of the same root (this time with Neutral Version) happily includes the (anticipated) subject, viz. (50) imεd(-)dɑ(-)k’ɑrg(-)ul-i mt’εr-i Ø-g-i-m(-)q’(-)fp-f-s hopeless-nom enemy-nom 3pB-youB-ov-make-be-aor-subj-3pA ‘May [?God] render your foe hopeless!’ = ‘May your foe be rendered hopeless!’

 George Hewitt

vs. (51) tmεrt-i dɑ ∫εn-i sɑ(-)lfts(-)ɑv-i k’ɑrg-ɑd God-nom and your-agr shrine-nom good-adv g-ɑ-m(-)q’(-)fp-εb-s youB-nv-make-be- ts-3pA[=fut] ‘God and your shrine will render you well = keep you safe’

In the case of such subject-lacking expressions as: (52) k’ɑts-s tsiv-i fpl-i dɑ-Ø-Ø-ɑ-sχ-ɑ man-dat cold-agr sweat-nom prev-3pB-3pB-lv-pour-3pA[=aor] k’ɑt∫’kɑt∫’-s magpie-dat

vs.

gɑ-Ø-Ø-ɑ-tsiv-ɑ dɑ prev-3pB-3pB-lv-make-cold-3pA[=aor] and

gɑ-Ø-Ø-ɑ-tsχεl-ɑ ∫i∫-isɑ-gɑn prev-3pB-3pB-lv-heat-3pA[=aor] fear-gen-from ‘The man came out in a cold sweat’ vs. ‘The magpie came over all hot and cold from fear’

it is not immediately obvious what the lost subject/agent might have been. The verbs in the latter example also combine as the compound noun /tsi(-)εb-tsχεl(-)εb(-)ɑ/ ‘fever’, suggesting a postulation that the original subject might have been the illness that produces the fever in the indirect object, whereas in the former example it might have been something as general as ‘the circumstances’ and, interestingly, the Nominative-marked direct object in the first example of (52) can be moved up to subjectslot and be marked (sc. for the quoted Aorist) by the Narrative/Ergative, to give: /tsiv.mɑ fpl.mɑ/, to match exactly the English ‘Cold sweat poured over X’, with the difference that the Georgian structure implies transitivity and, in this variant, leaves the direct object slot unfilled. One final example in this section would be: (53) bɑv∫v-s muts’uk’-εb-i gɑ(-)mf-Ø-Ø-ɑ-q’ɑr-ɑ child-dat spot-pl-nom prev-3pB-3pB-lv-throw-3pA[=aor] ‘The child came out in spots’

where, presumably, it will have been the particular illness associated with the spots that was the original but now lost subject. For both this last and the first example in (52) we have exact parallels in Abkhaz: (53ʹ) ɑ-χw6’t∫’6 (j6-)‘j6-kw-nɑ-psɑ-Ø-jt’ vs. ɑ-pχ’dz6 ‘χj∫wɑ∫wɑ the-child it/them-him-on-it-throw-past-fin[=aor] art-sweat cold Ø-‘j6-kw-nɑ-twɑ-Ø-jt’ it-him-on-it-pour-past-fin[=aor] ‘The child came out in a rash vs. cold sweat’



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

with /-nɑ-/ ‘it’ referring to the externally absent agent. This, incidentally, is but one instance (though not the first encountered in this article) where what is attested in one Caucasian language/family is mirrored elsewhere in the region, a subtlety unappreciated by those who would question the idea of a Caucasian ‘Sprachbund’. 5.1  With a little thought allied to an acceptance of the relevance of (in)transitivity and ergativity to Georgian one can understand the non-standard examples of case-assignment reviewed above. But, how to account for the use of the Ergative case with unambiguously intransitive subjects in Series II? Extension of the Ergative case within Kartvelian is nothing new for Laz and Mingrelian: the relevant casemarker in these Zan sisters is /-k/, and for Laz it has spread to transitive subjects in all screeve-series, whilst in Mingrelian it marks all Series II ‘subjects’. The crucial factor in these cases of extension is subjecthood. There is general acceptance that, whatever particularities today characterise the four Kartvelian sister-languages, the starting-point will have reflected the pattern still found in Georgian. Depending on the screeve, the Nominative case in this system can mark both subjects and direct objects; the Dative, similarly, can mark both types of argument as well as indicate an indirect object; the Ergative, on the other hand, is the only monofunctional case, its role being exclusively that of a subject-marker (specifically of transitive subjects in Series II). Is it not reasonable to suppose that this exclusivity has simply led in non-standard varieties to its spread to intransitive subjects (whether semantically Active or Inactive)? This is surely what happened in Mingrelian, where the shift has been completed. The only complication is that, as it is today’s direct object of inverted verbs in Mingrelian that is so marked in Series II, the extension of the /k/-desinence to this argument must have taken place when the argument in question was still interpreted as an intransitive subject, e.g., (54) tsirɑ-s kf-Ø-ε-?fr(-)fp-u [kε?frfp] dŠimu∫iεr-k girl-dat prev-3pB-io pref-love-3pA[=aor] Dzhimushier-erg/nom ‘The girl fell in love with Dzhimushier’ (Q’ipshidze 1994: 7525)

The case in /-k/ in Mingrelian has, thus, lost its Ergative function and become a IInd-Series allomorph for the Nominative, with the result that the original Nominative(-Absolutive) is transformed into an Accusative case. For comparison, (54) in Georgian would be: (54ʹ) gfgf-s ∫ε-Ø-u-q’vɑr-d-ɑ dŠimu∫iεr-i girl-dat prev-3pB-ov-love-intr-3pA[=aor] Dzhimushier-nom

5.2  If the Active Hypothesis has no central relevance in Georgian, is the same true of Kartvelian as a whole? Consider monovalent intransitive forms in Series III, concentrating, for purposes of exposition, on the Perfect, as nothing

 George Hewitt

irregular manifests itself in the other two screeves. The regular morphology basically fuses the past participle with the Present tense of the copula: (55) [Georgian]

dɑ-v-brun-εb-ul-v(-)ɑ(-)r prev-1pA-return-ts-ptc-amA

vs.

[Mingrelian]

df-b-rt-[εl-]ε(-)k prev-1pA-return-ptc-amA

vs.

[svan, Lashkh dialect]

ɑn-mε-t’εχ-e:l-χw(-)i [εmt’εχe: lχwi]30 prev-ptc-pref-return-ptc-suff-amA

‘I have (apparently) returned’

Separately, the participles and copulas are: Georgian /dɑ-brun-εb-ul-i v-ɑ-r/, Mingrelian /df-rt-εl-i v-f-r-ε-k/, Svan /ɑn-mε-t’εχ-e:l-i χw-i/[ε-m-t’εχ-e:l-i χw-i]. Whilst one occasionally finds in Georgian an example where an inverted transitive formation is recast to follow this intransitive pattern because of the lack of an overt direct object (understandable if transitivity is relevant, but hardly so, were Activity to lie at the root of inversion), e.g., (56) [mɑ-s] dɑ-Ø-u-t∫fk-[n-]i-ɑ vs. [i-s] dɑ-t∫fk-il-ɑ X-dat prev-3pB-ov-kneel-?-perf-3pA that-nom prev-kneel- ptc-isA[=perf] ‘X has (apparently) knelt down’,

what is not attested in Georgian is inversion in Series III for essentially intransitive verbs (viz. those whose Ist and IInd Series’ screeves are formed in one of the three ways – suffixal, prefixal, markerless – outlined earlier). Take the verb of motion and the three common dynamic (semantically Active) intransitives ‘sit down’, ‘stand up’ and ‘lie down’. In Georgian we have the anticipated conflation of participle with copula: (57) [i-s] ts’ɑ-s(-)ul-ɑ vs. dɑ-m-dŠd-ɑr-ɑ X-nom prev-go-ptc-isA[=perf] prev-ptc.pref-sit-ptc.suff- isA[=perf] vs. ɑ-m-dg-ɑr-ɑ vs. dɑ-ts’(-)fl-il-ɑ prev-ptc.pref-stand-ptc.suff-isA[=perf] prev-lie-ptc-isA [=perf] ‘X has (apparently) gone vs. sat down vs. stood up vs. lain down’

How do the corresponding forms behave in Mingrelian? (57ʹ) [ti-s] mid[ɑ]-Ø-u-rt-um-[u-]Ø31 vs. X-dat prev-3pB-ov-go-?-perf-3pA gε-Ø-u-dg-in-[u-]Ø vs. prev-3pB-ov-stand-?-perf-3pA

d[f]-Ø-u-χ-un-[u-]Ø vs. prev-3pB-ov-sit-?-perf-3pA

d[f]-Ø-u-ndŠ-ir-[u-]Ø prev-3pB-ov-lie-?-perf-3pA

.  Topuria (1967: 204). .  The pronunciation [midurtum] reflects that of a series of informants once resident in Ochamchira (Abkhazia), notably P’ant’e Basilaia, all of whom I thank for their time, patience and expertise.



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

All are inverted. For the last Q’ipshidze offers the regular (sc. for Kartvelian intransitives) combination of participle and copula: /df-[n]dŠ-ir-[εl-]ε-Ø/, which is in fact the only possibility given in Kadzhaia’s 2002 dictionary. Another verb where the regular and inverted patterns coexist is ‘return’, so that one can compare with the Mingrelian variant of (55) this alternative: (58) [ti-s] df-m-[i-]rt-in-[u-]Ø X-dat prev-1pB-ov-return-?-perf-3pA

I would argue that the inverted forms are neologisms that have replaced/are replacing the original formations. And, at first glance, one might be forgiven for concluding that, given the semantics of the illustrated verbs, it will be their Activity which is motivating this shift. But before one rushes to such a conclusion, one should consider: (59) [ti-s] gε-Ø-u-r-in-[u-]Ø = [Georgian] [i-s] X-nom X-dat prev-1pB-ov-stand32-?-perf-3pA m-dg-ɑr-ɑ ptc.pref-stand-ptc.suff-isA[=perf] ‘X has (apparently) been standing’

where Mingrelian manifests inversion (against Georgian’s monovalent intransitive and thus non-inverted patterning) despite the fact that ‘be standing’, describing more of a state than an action, is hardly a prototypical example of a verb of Active semantics. For this verb too Q’ipshidze quoted the regular intransitive form /gε-rin-[εl-]ε-Ø/, though this was never offered by my informants, who, when asked to produce stative Perfects for ‘be sitting/lying’, tended to employ an entirely different morphological form,33 though at least one accepted the inverted paradigm /Ø-undŠ-ir-[u-]Ø/ ‘X has been lying’, which is the preverbless variant of the form in (57ʹ). In Svan all three stative Perfects exhibit inversion (Gagua 1976: 118–27), but their dynamic equivalents34 and the verb of motion do not:

.  Actually this is the copular root, and it acquires the meaning ‘stand’ when combined with the preverb /gε-/. .  /tinɑ nf-dŠ-[ɑn-u(-)]ε-Ø/ ‘Xnom has been lying’; /tinɑ nf-χ-u-(-)ε-Ø/ ‘Xnom has been sitting’. This paradigm is based on a different type of participle, the correspondingly built screeve in Georgian being restricted to certain western dialects, dialects (perhaps significantly) abutting the Mingrelian-speaking area. .  Consider: zurɑl Ši f-l-g-εn-εl-[l-]i womannom up prev-ptc.pref-stand-?-ptc.suff-3pA-cop[=perf] ‘The woman apparently rose’ (Shanidze 1939: 244).

 George Hewitt

(60) χ-f-g-n-ɑ vs. χ-f-q’v-n-ɑ vs. χ-f-sgvr-ɑ 3pB-ov-stand-?-3pA[=perf] 3pB-ov-lie-?-3pA[=perf] 3pB-ov-sit- 3pA[=perf] ‘Xdat has (apparently) been standing vs. lying vs. sitting’

Since Active semantics cannot be motivating inversion with these verbs in Mingrelian and Svan, what is? 5.2.1  Readers might have observed that many (if not quite all) of the Perfects for the relevant verbs contain an element, glossed by a question-mark, immediately after the root. Georgian Medial Perfects also optionally contain /-n-/, unless its presence creates an infelicitous consonant-complex, and Mingrelian Medials also manifest a similarly optional /-in-/: (61) [ti-s] Ø-u-ngɑr-[in-]u-Ø = [Georgian] [mɑ-s] Ø-u-t’ir-[n-]i-ɑ X-dat 3pB-ov-cry-?-perf- 3pA X-dat 3pB-ov-cry-?-perf-3pA ‘X has (apparently) cried’

Two of the Svan verbs in (60) also carry such a nasal. Now, we know that the Causative marker in Georgian is basically /-in-/. In Svan /-in-/-un-/-wn-/ and in Mingrelian /-in-u-/ (also/-(in-)ɑp-u-/)35 fulfil this role. Cross-linguistically Causative formants sometimes serve merely to buttress a verb’s transitivity. Series III inversion characterises verbs traditionally deemed to be transitive. If some transitive verbs ‘lost’ an argument and were thus in danger of being (mis)interpreted as intransitive, what better location to employ the Causative formant in this transitivity-strengthening role? The nasal seems to be moribund in Georgian IIIrd Series Medials (Donald Rayfield, p.c.), but in places the language has resorted/is resorting to an alternative. Consider how a few verbs differentiate a transitive from a ditransitive usage in Series III: (62) mɑ-s bεrdzn(-)ul-i Ø-u-sts’ɑvl-i-ɑ Greek-nom 3pB-ov-learn-perf-3pA ‘X has (apparently) learnt Greek’ (62ʹ) mɑ-s ∫v(-)il-is-tvis bεrdzn(-)ul-i Ø-u-sts’ɑvl-εb-i-ɑ X-dat child-gen-for Greek-nom 3pB-ov-teach-ts-perf-3pA ‘X has (apparently) taught the child Greek’

The root in this pair of examples is the same but takes on the meaning ‘teach’ in association (sc. in Series III) with the Thematic Suffix /-εb-/. Now, there are a number of Medial derivatives whose structure seems to have altered over the years during which the Georgian Academy’s 8-volume Dictionary was being compiled/

.  /-ɑp-/ is cognate with /-εb-/, the commonest of Georgian’s Thematic Suffixes.



Cases, arguments, verbs in Abkhaz, Georgian and Mingrelian 

published (1950–64). Compare two virtually synonymous forms appearing respectively in volumes III (1953) and VII (1962): (63) mɑ-s dɑ-Ø-u-dzɑχ-n-i-ɑ vs. ∫ε-Ø-u-dzɑχ-εb-i-ɑ prev-3pB-ov-shout-ts-perf-3pA X-dat prev-3pB-ov-shout-?-perf-3pA ‘X has (apparently) shouted (in somebody’s direction)’

The shift in directional preverb should not motivate any other morphological change, and yet the 1953-nasal yielded to Georgian’s commonest Thematic Suffix in 1962. Is the reason that the structure’s essential transitivity needs to be underlined, the original force of the nasal suffix has been forgotten, and /-εb-/ is perceived as best serving this function thanks to the sort of role it plays in pairings such as (62)–(62ʹ)? We have seen inverted forms containing post-radical elements other than/-in-/in Mingrelian. Perhaps, therefore, we should interpret /-um-/-un-/and/-ir-/ as Thematic Suffixes performing the same function postulated for /-in-/ in the relevant verbs. 5.2.2  If IIIrd Series inversion correlates with transitivity, which incidentally happens to be prototypically associated with the Active semantics of agency, one could conceive of a situation in which the inverted construction could have spread to intransitive verbs whose subjects shared the semantic feature of also acting volitionally; thereafter, the pattern might possibly have infected related verbs, even if they were charaterised by Inactive semantics (since, after all, dynamic notions like ‘stand up’ easily pair with statives like ‘be standing’). This would account for the situation attested in Mingrelian, and ultimately the explanation for all cases of IIIrd Series inversion would be that, however counter-intuitive it might appear for some of the verbs concerned, all such verb-forms are essentially bipersonal transitives (accompanied, where necessary, by an understood ‘internal’ direct object to correlate with the obligatory Set A agreementaffix within the inverted verb-form). The puzzle is why it is the IIIrd Series forms for the stative notions ‘be seated, standing, lying’ (and not their dynamic correlates) that are construed this way in Svan. Future research may provide the answer. Meanwhile it has been argued that, however unexciting it might be, the traditional categories of ergativity and transitivity still provide the best framework for understanding the aspects of Georgian, Mingrelian and Abkhaz verbal morphology, argument-structure and associated case-marking which have been examined above.

References Amiridze, N. 2006. Reflexivization Strategies in Georgian. Utrecht: LOT. Comrie, B. 1976. The syntax of causative constructions: Cross-language similarities and divergences. In The Grammar of Causative Constructions, M.  Shibatani (Ed.), New York NY: Academic Press.

 George Hewitt Deeters, G. 1930. Das Kharthwelische Verbum. Leipzig: Kommissionsverlag von Markert und Petters. Gagua, K’. 1976. dronak’li zmnebi svanurshi (Tense-defective Verbs in Svan) Tbilisi: Metsniereba. Harris, A.C. 1985. Diachronic Syntax: The Kartvelian Case. New York NY: Academic Press. Hewitt, B.G. 1979. Aspects of verbal affixation in Abkhaz (Abzhui Dialect). Transactions of the Philological Society 1979: 211–238. Hewitt, B.G. 1987. Georgian – ergative or active? In Lingua: Studies in Ergativity, R.M.W. Dixon (Ed.), 319–340. Hewitt, B.G. 1989. Review-article of Syntax and Semantics 18: A.C. Harris’ Diachronic Syntax: The Kartvelian Case. Revue des Etudes Géorgiennes et Caucasiennes 3: 173–213. Hewitt, B.G. 1999. Morphology revisited: Some peculiarities of the Abkhaz verb. In Studies in Caucasian Linguistics. Selected papers of theeighth Caucasian Colloquium, H. van den Berg (Ed.), 197–208. Leiden: CNWS. Hewitt, B.G. 2004. Introduction to the Study of the Languages of the Caucasus. Munich: Lincom. Kadzhaia, O. 2001, 2002, 2002. megrul-kartuli leksik’oni I, II, III (Mingrelian- Georgian Dictionary I, II, III). Tbilisi: Nek’eri. Lazard, G. 1995. Le Géorgien: actance duale (‘active’) ou ergative? Typologie des verbs antiimpersonnels. Sprachtypologie und Universalienforschung 48: 275–293. (Also included in Etudes de linguistique générale: Typologie grammaticale [Collection linguistique publiée par la Société de linguistique de Paris, LXXXII], 243–261. 2001. Leuven: Peeters). Monro, D.B. 1998. Homeric Grammar. Bristol: Classical Press (facsimile of the 1891 Edn.) Nichols, H. 1994. Ingush. In The Indigenous Languages of the Caucasus 4: The North East Caucasian Languages, Part 2, R. Smeets (Ed.), 79–145. Potskhishvili, A. 1969. unebliobis k’at’egoria kartul zmnashi (The category of unwillingness in the Georgian verb). giorgi axvledians (To Giorgi Akhvlediani), 152–155. Q’ipshidze, I. 1994. rcheuli txzulebani (Selected Works). Tbilisi: University Press. (First published 1914). Schmidt, K.H. 1965. Indogermanisches Medium und Sataviso im Georgischen. Bedi Kartlisa XIX-XX: 129–135. Shanidze, A. 1939. svanuri p’oezia (Svan Poetry). Tbilisi: Metsniereba. Shanidze, A. 1979. scema igi tu scema mas (X hit YNOM or X hit YDAT). salit’erat’uro kartulis sach’irborot’o sak’itxebi (Burning Questions of Literary Georgian), 122. Tbilisi: Ganatleba. Topuria, V. 1967. shromebi I.  svanuri ena I.  zmna (Works I.  Svan Language I. Verb). Tbilisi: Metsniereba. Tuite, K. 1997. Review of B.G. Hewitt Georgian. A Structural Reference Grammar. Functions of Language 4: 258–260.

The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian Östen Dahl In some northern Swedish vernaculars, one can find some rather peculiar developments in the use of inflectional forms of nouns. Thus, in the vernaculars Pitemål and Rånemål, spoken in the province of Norrbotten, no less than three kinds of forms compete for the territory taken up by indefinite nouns in other Germanic languages such as Standard Swedish. These are: (i) definite plural forms; (ii) forms historically derived from older (nominative forms of) indefinite plurals; (iii) forms historically derived from (probably definite) dative plurals. The expansion of the definite forms into indefinite territory is found over a large part of the Swedish dialect area. The development of the old dative forms, on the other hand, is restricted to a smaller area in Norrbotten, although the first stage of it can be seen also in the province of Västerbotten. In this initial stage, dative forms are found after quantifier words such as ‘some’, ‘many’. In some vernaculars, datives are also used after numerals. The most plausible explanation here is that the constructions historically involve a deleted preposition ‘of ’. But the dative forms have expanded way beyond the constructions where such a deletion is plausible, in such a way that they are sometimes referred to in descriptions of the vernaculars simply as ‘indefinite plurals’. However, the original indefinite plurals are still used and there is a certain division of labor between the three types of forms that occur in ‘indefinite’ contexts. Thus, a Swedish bare plural will normally be translated using a definite form; if it is preceded by some kind of modifier such as an adjective, however, it will typically be rendered with an ending which historically is a dative, irrespective of the syntactic function the noun phrase has in the sentence. If the noun is preceded by a quantifier, the form chosen may be one derived from a historical indefinite plural; but this is possible only with certain quantifiers and given that there is no modifier present. At the same time, the original functions of the dative case have lost their productivity in these vernaculars. What we can observe in Pitemål and Rånemål is thus a development in which a dative ending loses its character as a case marker and instead turns into what looks like an indefinite plural ending, although one which has a restricted use.

1.  Introduction The vernaculars spoken in northern Sweden exhibit many peculiar properties in their nominal syntax (Delsing (2003:  232)). In this paper, I shall discuss a

 Östen Dahl

phenomenon that, as far as I know, has not been treated systematically in recent literature, namely some rather unexpected developments of dative suffixes, primarily in three vernaculars spoken in Norrbotten, the northernmost province in the traditional Swedish dialect area: Pitemål, Lulemål (proper) and Rånemål. As an example, consider the following sentence: (1) Pitemål Hä stå:r å̀ått àasp dēna bå̀årt, it stand.prs eight aspen.pl there away å hä jär sto:ra àspom. and it be.prs big.pl aspen.dat.pl ‘Thereˉareˉeightˉaspensˉoverˉthere,ˉandˉtheyˉareˉbigˉaspens.’ˉ(Lidströmˉ&ˉ Berglundˉ(1991: 20))

The lexeme asp ‘aspen’ occurs twice in this sentence, first in the phrase åå̀ tt àasp ‘eight aspens’, where the form àasp is historically derived from a nominative plural form, and then in the phrase sto:ra àspom ‘big aspens’, where the form àspom is historically a dative plural, although syntactically there would not seem to be any motivation for a dative case to appear here. It is this curious distribution of forms that I will discuss in this paper. Map 1 shows those parts of the provinces of Västerbotten, Norrbotten and Lappland where North Germanic vernaculars (‘Swedish dialects’) are traditionally spoken. (The remainders of those provinces are traditionally Finno-Ugric territory.) The vernaculars can be grouped into Westrobothnian and Norrbothnian, but the borderlines between the vernacular groups do not wholly coincide with the province boundaries. At a lower level, five or six smaller areas, which by and large correspond to the river valleys, are commonly recognized. Two of these, situated in southern and central Norrbotten, are Pitemål, along the Pite river, and Lulemål, along the Lule river. In this paper, ‘Lulemål’, or ‘Lulemål proper’, will refer to the variety spoken in the parish of Neder-Luleå at the Lule river. Rånemål, spoken in the parish of Råneå at the mouth of the Råne river, is usually regarded as being a variety of Lulemål. However, there may be some significant differences between Rånemål and ‘Lulemål proper’, and the phenomena that I am discussing in this paper are better documented in Rånemål, which motivates paying some extra attention to that vernacular. In the following, I shall use ‘Southern Norrbothnian’ to refer to the vernaculars within the Pitemål and Lulemål areas as traditionally defined (these areas are marked by grey in the map). I have more or less exclusively used written sources, including both academic and non-academic descriptions (grammars and lexica) and text collections: for Pitemål: Dahlstedt (1956), Brännström (1993), Nyström (1988), Lidström & Berg­ lund (1991); for Lulemål proper: Nordström (1925), Nyström (1993); and for

Jamtska

Norway

Angermannian

N Westrobothnian

Kalixmål Råneå Nederluleå

Lulemål

Pitemål Piteå Socken

Ang-WB transitional area

S Westrobothnian

Sweden

Northern settler DA

Finland

The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

 Östen Dahl

Rånemål: Wikberg (2004). I have tried to verify the grammatical statements of the authors against text examples – it is not always possible, however, to attest all details fully.1 The spelling varies quite significantly between the sources: I have refrained from trying to unify it and render the examples as they are given in the original. The vernaculars under discussion are seriously endangered and under strong pressure from more standard varieties. The written sources tend to reflect the intuitions of speakers born in the second half of the 19th and the first half of the 20th century. It is to be expected that the language of these generations is already in an unstable state, and that in particular written texts will be heavily influenced by Standard Swedish norms. They therefore have to be treated with caution. On the other hand, a relatively consistent pattern can be discerned in the various descriptions and texts, putting off the area under discussion from the surrounding vernaculars. (It may be noted here that the peculiar developments of the dative case are not found in the Kalix vernaculars north of the Lulemål area.) Before going into the specific phenomena found in Southern Norrbothnian, I shall start by mentioning a few facts with wider significance concerning the general fate of the dative case in Scandinavian varieties and the expansion of the domain of the definite forms in northern Swedish vernaculars. I will then survey the choice of inflectional forms in quantifier phrases in the three vernaculars, with notes also about other vernaculars in the area, and then turn to the uses of historical datives forms specific to Southern Norrbothnian. The following two sections are devoted to a general discussion of the phenomena from a synchronic and a diachronic point of view.

2.  The dative in Northern Peninsular Scandinavian The dative has been preserved in many conservative dialects in Norway and northern Sweden – as argued in Dahl & Koptjevskaja-Tamm (2006), the dative tends to be the most resilient marked member of the old case system. It has however undergone many changes with respect to both form and function. This is true in particular of the Southern Norrbothnian vernaculars, where the only productive dative suffix (at least in the speech of recent generations) is the plural -om (Pitemål) and -o (Lulemål & Rånemål). The traditional uses of the dative – e.g.,

.  It would of course have been desirable to have recourse to judgments of native speakers; in view of the present unstable state of the vernaculars, I decided that it might be difficult to find informants whose intuitions were secure enough to add significantly to the information obtainable from the written sources.



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

to mark indirect objects, following prepositions – are only marginally present in those vernaculars; in such constructions, forms unmarked for case tend to be used, except in set expressions. Instead, the productive uses of the forms historically derived from dative forms tend to be conditioned by the internal structure of the noun phrase, as we shall see in the following. (More productive traditional uses of datives are found both in the Northern Westrobothnian vernaculars to the south and the Kalix vernaculars to the north of the Southern Norrbothnian area.)

3.  The expansion of definite forms of nouns As already mentioned, noun phrases show many grammatical peculiarities in the vernaculars of this region. In particular, there are some rather unorthodox uses of inflectional forms. For instance, the definite forms of nouns are used not only in cases where definite articles are found in languages like English but also e.g., when English would have a bare noun (and French a partitive article), as in (2) Pitemål a. Vä sko i`ta paltn. we will eat.inf dumpling.def ‘We’llˉeatˉdumplings’

(Brännströmˉ(1993: 12))

b. I behöv penninga. I need.prs money.def.pl ‘Iˉneedˉmoney.’

(Brännströmˉ(1993: 20))

(3)

Lulemål Hån djåord upp eln ini spissn. he make.pst up fire.def in stove.def ‘Heˉmadeˉfireˉinˉtheˉstove.’

(Nyströmˉ(1993: 162))

(4)

Rånemål Förr at dåm grötn o kweln. earlier eat.pst they porridge.def in evening.def ‘Earlierˉtheyˉusedˉtoˉhaveˉporridgeˉinˉtheˉevening.’

(Wikbergˉ(2004: 112))

Similar uses of definite forms are found in a large area comprising most of northern Sweden and the Swedish-speaking parts of the province of Österbotten (Pohjanmaa) in Finland. In a smaller area in northern Sweden, definite forms are used also after some quantifiers such as ‘much’ – this is a phenomenon that I shall return in 4.2. At this point, it may be noted that the expansion of definite forms has as an effect that the frequency of indefinite noun phrases, in particular plural ones, decreases rather sharply. They show up mainly in predicative position and, as we shall see, after quantifiers.

 Östen Dahl

4.  Plural nouns after quantifiers in Southern Norrbothnian I use the term ‘quantifier’ to refer to words belonging to the traditional categories of numerals and indefinite pronouns such as ‘much’, ‘many’, ‘few’, and ‘some’. (Quantifiers such as ‘all’ which are used with definite reference are not of interest here.) In Southern Norrbothnian, plural nouns that follow quantifiers display an astonishing diversity in grammatical form. We can distinguish three major possibilities: (i) forms historically derived from indefinite plural forms, unmarked for case – henceforth referred to as ‘historical indefinites’; (ii) definite plural forms, unmarked for case; (iii) forms historically derived from dative plurals (with neutralization of the definite indefinite distinction) – henceforth ‘historical datives’. I shall now look at these three possibilities in turn. 4.1  Historical indefinites The use of indefinite nouns after quantifiers is inherited from Common North Germanic and is still the only alternative in the standard Scandinavian languages. It would thus seem that there should not be much to say about this alternative. However, with respect to their form, historical indefinites in Pitemål and Rånemål have undergone quite radical changes, which make them stand out from the corresponding forms in the standard languages. As a result of a general process of apocope, many words in Norrbothnian vernaculars have lost their final vowels. This tends to be compensated through the retainment of a compressed version of the ‘grave’ pitch accent of the original word (sometimes referred to as a ‘circumflex accent’). In the particular case of plural forms in Pitemål and Rånemål, this means that synchronically, the pitch accent is often the only thing that sets historical indefinites off from singular indefinites, e.g., Pitemål kódd: kòdd ‘pillow: pillows’, Lulemål and Rånemål bat: baat ‘boat: boats’. (The grave diacritic (`) and double vowels are here different ways of rendering the special pitch accent of the plural forms.) There are, however, also other types of plural formations, e.g., with umlaut as in hánd: hénder (Pitemål) or hät: hender (Lulemål & Rånemål) ‘hand’. Feminine ‘weak’ nouns, which in Standard Swedish end in -a, behave differently in Pitemål, on the one hand, and the two other vernaculars on the other: Standard Swedish stuga: stugor ‘hut, house’ corresponds to Pitemål stö`go: stö`go (with the plural identical to the singular) and stogo: stogi in Lulemål and Rånemål. In Lulemål and Rånemål, historical indefinites show up mainly after numerals and some quantifiers such as määk ‘many’, fLääir ‘several’ and näger ‘some’ (Wikberg (2004: 113)). In Pitemål, they show up in basically the same contexts but appear to alternate with historical datives (see 4.3).



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

Dahlstedt (1956: 36) quotes a few examples from Pitemål where endingless historical indefinites are used after adjectives, the clearest one being små:`da band ‘small bands’ (example from Jävre village). 4.2  Definite plurals In many Northern Swedish vernaculars, definite forms are used quite widely after quantifiers, e.g., in the following example from the Southern Westrobothnian area, where a definite plural form is used after a numeral: (5)

Sorseleˉ(SouthernˉWestrobothnian) Han ha tre brödren. he have:prs three brother:def.pl ‘Heˉhasˉthreeˉbrothers.’

(Bergholmˉetˉal.ˉ(1999: 24))

In southern Norrbothnian, however, this construction is apparently restricted to the word mȫ`tje (Pitemål) or mi:tji ‘much, many’ (Rånemål), which (like the cognate mycket in Standard Swedish) can be used both with singular and plural nouns: (6) Pitemål a. Hä var mö`tje foLKe krö´gom ’en. it be.pst much people.def around he.obl ‘Thereˉwereˉlotˉofˉpeopleˉaroundˉhim.’ˉ(Brännströmˉ(1993: 52)) ̄ b. E fjöƚomsómmarn var-e mȫtje djǟtinga. in last_summer.def be.pstˉit much wasp.def.pl ‘Lastˉsummerˉthereˉwereˉmanyˉwasps’ (Lidströmˉ&ˉBerglundˉ(1991: 93)) (7) Rånemålˉ Åm Biblen noförtudn hädd vöri luka staaor, if Bible.def nowadays have.pst be.sup as big sö skoll -ä at hå fånnese sö mitji predikäntan. so will.pst it not have.inf exist.pst so much preacher.def.pl ‘[looking at an old Bible:] If Bibles had been that big nowadays, there wouldn’t have been so many preachers.’ (Wikberg (2004: 22))

Exceptionally, however, the word stòitj (Pitemål) or stiits (Rånemål) ‘piece, item’, which is commonly used as a placeholder, seems to be used regularly in the definite plural after any quantifier (Wikberg (2004: 113, 184)); Lidström & Berglund (1991: 200)): (8)

Pitemål I fann nà̄gȩr I find.pst some ‘Iˉfoundˉsome.’

stoitja. item.def.pl

 Östen Dahl

(9)

Rånemål Kän jä fa nager stitsa bårti di här bLaomen? can I get.inf some item.def.pl of dem here flower.def.pl ‘CanˉIˉhaveˉaˉfewˉ(pieces)ˉofˉtheseˉflowers?’

For Lulemål, however, Nyström (1993: 165) quotes an example with an indefinite plural after the corresponding word (stiitj): (10)

Lulemål Dji me näger stiitj give me some item.pl ‘Giveˉmeˉaˉcouple!’

Definite forms after quantifiers, then, play a relatively minor role in Pitemål and Rånemål. 4.3  Historical datives Of central interest in this paper is the third alternative for noun marking after quantifiers: when the noun following the quantifier is in a form that diachronically and sometimes also synchronically can be labeled a dative, notably a dative plural. This construction is found in Northern Westrobothnian and Southern Norrbothnian. Let us look at Northern Westrobothnian first. In Northern Westrobothnian vernaculars, the use of the dative is possible with a range of plural quantifiers. Larsson (1929: 132) lists the following words which can be followed by the dative in Westrobothnian: mycket ‘much, many’, litet ‘some’, mindre ‘less’, dussin ‘dozen’, liter ‘liter’, kilo ‘kilo’, kanna ‘pitcher’, sorters ‘kinds of ’ and na ‘some’. (All of these except na are quoted by Larsson in their Standard Swedish forms.) He gives a number of examples, such as: (11) Westrobothnianˉ(locationˉnotˉindicated) a. Howa se mytje olum he vaL! gosh so much word.dat.pl it become.pst ‘Goshˉhowˉmanyˉwordsˉthereˉturnedˉoutˉtoˉbe.’ b. e dussin banum one dozen child.dat.pl ‘aˉdozenˉchildren’ c.

nәpp ös na joLberum pick us some strawberries ‘pickˉsomeˉstrawberries’

d. әlla sorters tiningom all kind.pl.gen newspaper.pl.dat ‘allˉkindsˉofˉnewspapers’



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

According to Marklund (1976), the dative is used in Northern Westrobothnian (Skelleftemål) after a variety of quantifying words and expressions, such as möitje ‘much, many’, lite ‘little’, meinner ‘less’, mar ‘more’, mässt ‘most’, na ‘some’, noâ ‘some (pl.)’, nâllta ‘some, a little’, and measures such as dUssaN ‘dozen’, tjåg ‘score’, ââN ‘ell’, kæænn ‘pitchers’, skâlpunn ‘pound’, liter ‘litre’, kilo ‘kilo’. Marklund provides the following examples: möitje fLöuwjåm ‘many flies’, lite snaisåm ‘few sädesskylar’, nâllta potætom ‘some potatoes’, na sjiråm ‘some magpies’, e dussaN pännåm ‘a dozen pens’, tjwå kilo leinnbärom ‘two kilos of lingonberries’. As I already said, the use is restricted to plurals. Westerberg (2004:  111) mentions several examples from Norsjö in northern Västerbotten which she says are in accordance with Marklund’s such as mö`u̯kke benä´mɳiŋåm ‘many denominations’ and li`te ga`tåm ‘few riddles’. Turning now to Southern Norrbothnian, Brännström (1993:  19) states for Pitemål that the dative is obligatory with na ‘some’, as in (12), and optional after numerals, as in (13). (12) Pitemål a. Hä kom na fLi`ttjom ötät väjen. it come.pst some girl.dat.pl along road.def ‘Thereˉcameˉsomeˉgirlsˉalongˉtheˉroad.’ b. Dji´v mä na kòrvom! give.imp me some sausage.dat.pl ‘Giveˉmeˉsomeˉsausages!’ (13) Pitemål a. Hä satt fem fLö`go/fLö`jom opa fjö´La. it sit.pst five fly.pl/fly.pl.dat on shelf.def ‘Thereˉwereˉfiveˉfliesˉonˉtheˉshelf.’ b. No sàmblese ’ne säkert tjúgo kàrom. now gather.pst.pass it surely twenty man.pl.dat ‘Nowˉaboutˉtwentyˉmenˉgathered.’

According to Brännström (1993), the dative forms are also possible with some other quantifiers, e.g., nalta ‘some’, nager ‘some’, and a ‘a couple’, as in (14)

Pitemål Vell dö små`ka nalta snå`ttrom? want you taste some cloudberry.dat.pl ‘Doˉyouˉwantˉtoˉtryˉsomeˉcloudberries?’

Other examples given in Brännström (1993) are na`ger gobbom ‘some old men’ (10), na`ger döudfLöjom ‘some dead flies’ (22), a tattarom ‘some travellers’ (19). On the other hand, in Lidström & Berglund (1991: 11) it is said quite categorically that

 Östen Dahl

nāgȩr ‘some, a certain number of ’ cannot be followed by an om-ending in Pitemål, and the following two examples are contrasted: (15) Pitemål a. Ställ fram nāgȩr stå̀oł! put forth some chair.pl ‘Putˉoutˉaˉfewˉchairs!’ b. Ställ fram na ståołom! put forth some chair.dat.pl ‘Putˉoutˉ(some)ˉchairs!’

Dahlstedt (1956:  30) quotes examples with fḷei:r ‘several’: fḷei:r sji`ftom ‘several shifts’ (Jävre). In an older Pitemål text I have found an example with en par ‘a couple’, although the sentence looks suspiciously acrolectal: (16) Pitemål … ve fekk oss en par rejäla drammom. we get.prs us indef couple real dram.dat.pl ‘Weˉgotˉourselvesˉaˉcoupleˉofˉbigˉdrams.’

The contradictory information about the usage after the quantifier nager ‘some’ suggests that there may be dialectal variation within the Pitemål area. If that is the case, the vernaculars from the Lulemål area seem to behave like the more restrictive Pitemål varieties. For Lulemål proper, Nordström (1925: 16) says that ‘the plural ending o’ is added to most nouns when they are preceded by nä ‘some’. Exceptions are words that take the plural endings -i and -ær, thus nä stj`ido ‘some spoons’ but nä k`uni ‘some women’. He compares nä to another quantifier with the same meaning, n`ägær, which is followed by a historical indefinite plural, as in the following two synonymous sentences (cf. analogous examples from Pitemål in: (17) Lulemål a. Ho´iæ skul ‘n hå at n`ägær heest. hay.def would he have to some horse.pl b. Ho´iæ skul ‘n hå at nä he`sto. hay.def would he have.inf to some horse.dat.pl ‘Heˉneededˉtheˉhayˉforˉsomeˉhorses.’

Nordström’s account is probably a bit too restrictive however. Thus, in Nyström (1993), we also find examples of the historical dative after ar ‘a couple, a pair’, and määk ‘many’:



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

(18) Lulemål a. Ho stäkk ar vänto. she knit.pst couple mitten.dat.pl ‘Sheˉknittedˉaˉpairˉofˉmittens.’ b. He lag ar bredo pa goLve. it lie.pst couple plank.dat.pl on floor.def ‘Thereˉwereˉsomeˉplanksˉonˉtheˉfloor.’ c.

He vär määk bano kröyngo en. it be.pst many child.dat.pl around he.obl ‘Thereˉwereˉmanyˉchildrenˉaroundˉhim’

(Nyströmˉ(1993: 21))

(Nyströmˉ(1993: 21))

(Nyströmˉ(1993: 96))

The usage in Rånemål appears to be similar to that of Lulemål. Wikberg (2004: 113) gives examples with nä ‘some’ and ar ‘a couple/pair’ but also änger ‘no’ as in änger peningo ‘no money (pl.)’ As was noted above (4.1), numerals, määk ‘many’, fLääir ‘several’ and näger ‘some’ are said to be followed by historical indefinites in Rånemål. Like in Lulemål, the historical datives in Rånemål are not formed from nouns that take the endings -i and -er in the plural; for these the historical indefinite forms are used instead. (It is unclear to what extent this restriction exists in Pitemål; as can be seen from ex. (13) it does not apply to feminine words in -o (which have identical forms in the plural) but I have not been able to establish whether it would apply to words such as hand, for which Brännström (1993) lists -om forms but without giving any examples of their use.) We also find some examples where there is a preposition such as åv ‘of ’ (Pitemål), a ‘of ’ (Lulemål), or i ‘in’ between the quantifier and the noun, as in the following examples: (19)

Pitemål heuse, fullt åv gammaLsti´ntom house.def full.nt of old_maid.dat.pl ‘theˉhouse,ˉfullˉofˉoldˉmaids’

(20) Lulemål d. He vär i heil reei a stjöso. it be.pst a whole row of wagon.dat.pl ‘Thereˉwasˉaˉwholeˉrowˉofˉwagons.’ e.

(Brännströmˉ(1993)ˉ22)

(Nyströmˉ(1993: 135))

He lag fullt i lömpo pa båoLe. it lie.pst full.neut in loaf.dat.pl on table.def (Nyströmˉ(1993: 110)) ‘Theˉtableˉwasˉfullˉofˉloaves.’

We have seen that one of the quantifiers that is used most consistently with the dative and over the largest area is na or nä ‘some’. Na is a bit special as a quantifier in that it seems to have undergone some kind of grammaticalization: it appears

 Östen Dahl

to be more systematically used in certain contexts than the corresponding word in Standard Swedish, although this is difficult to demonstrate by examples. It shows up in particular in negative and interrogative contexts, but also elsewhere, as in (21)

Lulemål Jö hä roske ihåop nä smapero. I have rake.sup together some small_potato.dat.pl (Nyströmˉ(1993: 138)) ‘Iˉhaveˉrakedˉtogetherˉsomeˉsmallˉpotatoes’

Other quantifiers that are consistently used with the dative are a ‘some’ in Pitemål and ar ‘some, a couple, a pair’ in Rånemål and Lulemål. Dahlstedt (1956: 29) refers to Pitemål a as a ‘plural indefinite article’. Similarly, Marklund claims that a or â in Skelleftemål (Northern Westrobothnian) functions as an indefinite article in the plural, and that it also has the meaning ‘a pair’. It would appear plausible that all these forms are related. Their etymology and their relationship to the postadjectival indefinite article discussed below in section 7 are unclear.

5.  The historical dative after modifiers I now come to what is the most peculiar extension of the use of the historical dative forms. In Southern Norrbothnian, these forms are also used in contexts such as the one exemplified in (1), repeated here: (1) Pitemål ̀ Hä stå:r å̀ått àasp dēna båårt, it stand.prs eight aspen.pl there away å hä jär sto:ra àspom. and it be.prs big.pl aspen.dat.pl ‘Thereˉareˉeightˉaspensˉoverˉthere,ˉandˉtheyˉareˉbigˉaspens’ˉ (Lidströmˉ&ˉBerglundˉ(1991: 20)) 

For Rånemål, Wikberg (2004:  113) provides examples such as truy swårta faro ‘three black sheep’ and nuya kLedo ‘new clothes’. A rule for this use is formulated by Wikberg (2004: 113) as follows: The ending -o is used with indefinite plurals if some modifier other than numerals, määk ‘many’, fLääir ‘several’ and näger ‘some’ precedes the noun. That is, the use of the dative would be triggered by the presence of prenominal modifiers, including also possessive pronouns, as in the examples våder bano å dåmers aongo ‘our children and their brats’ or in Pitemål di`jn klä`ppom ‘your kids’ (Brännström (1993: 27)). (In the last case, the noun phrase would be interpreted as definite, as is normal with possessives.)



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

Some more examples of this use of the historical dative from Pitemål and Rånemål are: (22) Pitemål a. Ȩjn hàa rö:da strampom one have.prs red.pl stocking.dat.pl (Lidströmˉ&ˉBerglundˉ(1991: 11)) ‘Oneˉ(ofˉthem)ˉhasˉredˉstockings’ b. Hä jär langa bàkkom ōpǟt vä́äjjen it is long.pl slope.dat.pl along road.def ‘Thereˉareˉlongˉslopesˉalongˉtheˉroad’ (Lidströmˉ&ˉBerglundˉ(1991: 22)) (23) Rånemål Hä vär opa di tudn när-ä biärd a våra modernt it be.pst on def time.def when-it begin.pst on be modern.nt at hå kårta graa överrocko. to have.inf short.pl grey.pl overcoat.dat.pl ‘Itˉwasˉatˉtheˉtimeˉwhenˉitˉwasˉgettingˉfashionableˉtoˉhaveˉshortˉgreyˉ overcoats’ (Wikbergˉ(2004: 21))

Examples can also be found in Lulemål proper (although the construction is not mentioned in Nordström): (24)

Lulemål Hån häd mioka föyngro dil at pela upa fejåol. she have.pst soft.pl finger.dat.pl to to play on fiddle (Nyströmˉ(1993: 128)) ‘heˉhadˉsoftˉfingersˉtoˉplayˉaˉfiddleˉwith’

The usage may be less systematic here though. Cf. the following analogous examples from the same source, in which definite and historically indefinite forms of the noun are used: (25) Lulemål a. Ho hä gråoa mjöLkadren. she have.prs coarse milking-veins ‘Sheˉ[theˉcow]ˉhasˉcoarseˉmilking-veins’ˉ(Nyströmˉ(1993: 116)) b. Hån hä ståor nesa o ståora nesahoL. he have.prs big nose and big.pl nostril.pl ‘Heˉhasˉaˉbigˉnoseˉandˉbigˉnostrils’ˉ(Nyströmˉ(1993: 122))

Nyström (1993: 82) also quotes examples with possessive pronouns: (26)

Lulemål Jer e ider bano? be.prs it poss.2pl child.dat.pl ‘Isˉitˉyourˉchildren?’

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The premodification rule overrides the principles formulated above for the choice of inflectional forms after quantifiers, that is, a premodified noun takes the historical dative ending also when the noun phrase contains a quantifier. This means that dative-marked phrases can take the same functional position as the historical indefinite plural. Wikberg (2004: 113) provides the following minimal pairs: (27)

Rånemål truyˉbLaaomˉ‘threeˉflowers’ määkˉstaantˉ‘manyˉgirls’ fLääirˉpääjkˉ‘severalˉboys’ nägerˉbaoLˉ‘aˉfewˉballs’

truyˉvackraˉbLaomoˉ‘threeˉbeautifulˉflowers’ määkˉaongaˉstaantoˉ‘manyˉyoungˉgirls’ fLääirˉgLådaˉpäjkoˉ‘severalˉhappyˉboys’ nägerˉrondaˉbaoLoˉ‘aˉfewˉroundˉballs’

But a dative-marked premodified noun phrase can also fill the same slot as a definite plural. Recall that in the vernaculars under discussion, indefinite bare nouns are rare except after quantifiers and in predicative position – instead we find definite nouns and nouns in the dative preceded by na/nä ‘some’. In the Rånemål texts in Wikberg (2004) we can find some striking illustrations of the functional equivalence of definite nouns and historical datives. In the following examples from the translation of the first chapters of Genesis into Rånemål we thus find dative forms alternating with definite plurals in one and the same conjoined noun phrases, depending on the presence of modifiers in the noun phrase: (28) Rånemål Må jaoLa druv may earth.def fre-berande seed-bearing

främ gröschka– bring.inf forth vegetation växto å frukt-tredaˉ…ˉ plant.dat.pl and fruit-tree.def.pl

‘Mayˉearthˉbringˉforthˉvegetationˉ–ˉseed-bearingˉplantsˉandˉ fruit-treesˉ…’ˉ(Gen.ˉ1: 11) (29) Rånemål Må jaoLa druv may earth.def

främ levande bring.inf forth living

ätt artten dåmers, after species.def baoskäpsdjiora livestock_animal.def.pl ätt arrten after species.def

varelso, being.dat.pl

their å kröLdjiora å vilda djioro, and crawl_animal.def.pl and wild.pl animal.dat.pl dåmers. their

‘Mayˉearthˉbringˉforthˉlivingˉcreatures,ˉaccordingˉtoˉtheirˉspecies,ˉcattleˉ[=liv estock-animals]ˉandˉreptilesˉ[=crawl-animals]ˉandˉwildˉanimals,ˉaccordingˉto ˉtheirˉspecies.’ˉ(Gen.ˉ1: 21)



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

The non-modified nouns here happen to be compounds. These however count as unmodified, and take a definite form, as opposed to nouns modified by an adjective, which take the historical dative. Thus, in (29), kröLdjiora ‘crawl-animals, i.e., reptiles’ appears in the definite plural form, whereas the immediately following vilda djioro ‘wild animals’ takes the dative ending.

6.  Discussion: The synchronic perspective To sum up, for contexts where we find indefinite plural nouns in English and Standard Swedish, the Norrbothnian vernaculars discussed here offer a choice between several different possibilities, viz. forms historically derived from (i) indefinite plurals, unmarked for case; (ii) definite plurals, unmarked for case; (iii) plural datives. In addition, bare plural nouns in other Germanic languages often correspond to nouns in the dative preceded by na or nä ‘some’. The choice between the inflectional forms is not free but determined by the internal syntax of the noun phrase. The question is now: what grammatical categories do the different forms represent? The problem is that there are several candidates for the label ‘indefinite plural’ without any of them being wholly satisfactory. The historical indefinite plural is used only in a few, syntactically well-defined contexts. The definite plural is in a way the default choice as a translation of the indefinite plurals of other languages, but it also translates definite nouns, so it appears strange to call label it ‘indefinite’. And finally, the historical dative is only used if there is a quantifier or a prenominal modifier. To complicate things further, some historical indefinite plurals (in -i or -er) show up also in contexts where the historical dative is found with other nouns. From the typological point of view, it is not a unique situation for there to be forms that are used only in specific contexts and which do not fit very well into a paradigm. Like the Norrbothnian vernaculars, the Slavic languages have complex rules for combinations of quantifiers – in particular numerals – and nouns. In some cases, there are forms which are only used after certain numerals and nowhere else, like Russian časá from čas ‘hour’ which is exclusively used after 2, 3, and 4 (see Corbett, this volume). It does appear that the historical indefinites in the Norrbothnian vernaculars are of the same kind – forms that have been ‘trapped’ in a specific syntactic construction. As for the two other forms – the definite plural and the dative – it is tempting to draw typological parallels here too. As we have seen, the choice depends on the presence of a modifier in the wide sense of the word. In various languages, we find morphemes that mark a noun as having a modifier. The most well-known is perhaps the Persian ‘ezafe’, as in ketāb-e bozorg ‘a big book’, where the -e on ketāb ‘book’ is conditioned by the following adjectival modifier bozorg ‘big’. The ending -om/-o in the Norrbothnian vernaculars is admittedly not quite parallel, since it is

 Östen Dahl

restricted to the plural and is not general to all nouns. While its presence is clearly dependent on the presence of a modifier, it is less clear that we should really treat it as a ‘linker’ or marker of the modified status of the noun. To the extent that the ending -om/-o alternates with definite forms of nouns, it could be argued that the alternation should be formulated in terms of restrictions on the latter: the extended uses of definites are only possible with non-modified nouns, and when they are not possible, historical datives are used as a kind of default indefinite plural. However, this would not explain the distribution after numerals, which at least in Rånemål also follows the premodified – non-premodified distinction. On the other hand, there are some indications that the -om/-o forms may tend to function as default indefinites, as in the following example, where there is an -o form in predicative position: (30) Rånemål Bägge toen both two.def å dillfällit and temporarily

vär biggnadssnickaro be.pst construction_carpenter.def.pl eotan arbäit. without work

‘Bothˉofˉthemˉwereˉconstructionˉcarpentersˉandˉtemporarilyˉoutˉofˉ work’(Wikbergˉ(2004: 46))

Dahlstedt (1956: 30)2 provides some examples from Pitemål where dative forms are used with nouns which are not premodified, e.g., (31)

Pitemålˉ(Jävreˉvillage) trerä´fsom. Pa`ppa jåo:ḷ father make.pst wooden_rake.dat.pl ‘Fatherˉmadeˉwoodenˉrakes.’

å så sku man tåga rö`nnkwi’stom dil pi`nnom. and so should one take.inf rowan_twig.dat.pl to stick.dat.pl ‘…ˉandˉthenˉoneˉshouldˉtakeˉrowanˉtwigsˉasˉsticks.’

However, such uses do not seem to be characteristic of Pitemål in general, and even among Dahlstedt’s examples, the ones quoted are the only undisputable ones, the others being in prepositional phrases, which may be seen as surviving ‘old’ datives, e.g., borti vi.`djom ‘of osiers’. (Dahlstedt, somewhat inconsistently. actually treats quite parallel examples, e.g., bårta bje`rtjom ‘from birches’ as dative forms

.  Dahlstedt’s account is slightly confusing in that he lists ‘free-standing nouns and immediately following an indefinite plural article a’ as the first of four possible uses of historical datives, without commenting on the relative frequency of such cases.



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

conditioned by prepositions.) It may be significant that the examples in (31) are both from a village which is situated at the very south edge of the Pitemål area. 7.  Discussion: The diachronic perspective If we now take a diachronic point of view, the Norrbothnian development of the old dative plural into an indefinite plural marker in premodified noun phrases appears rather odd. How did it happen? Since there is virtually no documentation of the earlier stages of the process, we have to reconstruct it from synchronic evidence, and the conclusions have to remain speculative. It appears reasonable, however, to assume that there were two steps in the development, and that the use of the dative following quantifiers came before the more generalized use in premodified NPs. This assumption is consistent with the fact that the former has a wider geographical distribution than the latter. But it also makes the steps in the development seem plausible, even if the details are far from clear. A proposal for an explanation of the use of datives after quantifiers was put forward by Larsson (1929: 132), who suggests that they derive from a construction containing a preposition governing the dative, in which the preposition was later deleted. In support of this hypothesis, he quotes the following example from Widmark (1863: 16): (32)

Westrobothnian Jäg häv mykkje a hågom I have.prs much of fence.pl ‘Iˉhaveˉmanyˉfences.’

The explanation appears plausible, in particular in view of the expansion of the definite forms – the choice of a definite dative plural form would be natural after the quantifier mykkje ‘much, many’, but a definite form would normally entail the use of a preposition: cf. English many fences but many of the fences. It may be noted that several Norrbothnian vernaculars systematically use a preposition ‘of ’ after measure phrases such as ‘seven liters’, in the same way as English: (33)

Pitemål å mjöƚk. I tjö̀öft shu:ˉ liter I buy.pst seven liter.pl of milk ‘Iˉboughtˉtwoˉlitersˉofˉmilk.’

(Lidströmˉ&ˉBerglundˉ(1991: 26))

Cf. also (19)–(20) above, which contain an overt preposition between the quantifier and the noun. How could we now explain the further expansion of the dative forms? It appears reasonable that there is some kind of analogical extension from the quantifier cases to the premodified ones. Arguably, they share the property that the

 Östen Dahl

head noun appears non-initially in the noun phrase, but this may not seem to be a sufficient explanation. There are some slightly suspicious circumstances around the plural forms with historical dative endings. In the vernaculars under discussion, like in many vernaculars in the area, adjectival modifiers in definite noun phrases are usually incorporated into the noun, e.g., Rånemål staor-äLjen ‘big-elk.def, i.e., the big elk’ (Wikberg (2004: 119)). It may be hypothesized that this is the result of a process involving among other things apocope of the ‘weak’ adjective ending, which in Standard Swedish coincides in form with the -a ending used on all plural adjectives. In predicative position, the plural ending on adjectives is apocopated, yielding a zero-marked form with circumflex accent: (34) Pitemål gòbbenˉjärˉlejdˉ‘theˉoldˉmanˉisˉugly’:ˉdömˉvåorˉlèjdˉ‘theyˉwereˉugly’ˉ  (Brännströmˉ(1993: 23)) (35) Rånemål bilnˉjärˉstaorˉ‘theˉcarˉisˉbig’:ˉpäjkanˉjäraˉstaaorˉ‘theˉboysˉareˉbig’ˉ (Wikbergˉ(2004: 120)) 

It may legitimately be asked why the plural -a ending in phrases such as Pitemål sto: ra àspom was not apocopated in the same way (Dahlstedt (1956: 36): ‘the ending -`a amazes’). Indeed, incorporated adjectives are found also in definite-marked noun phrases which correspond to English or Standard Swedish indefinites, e.g., (36) Lulemål a. He gä kålgåran et riggen it go cold_chill.def.pl along back.def ‘Coldˉchillsˉrunˉupˉmyˉback.’

(Nyströmˉ(1993: 98))

b. Äkt de, do sko åt eta frusibera. mind you.obl.sg you.nom.sg shall not eat frozen_berry.def.pl (Nyströmˉ(1993: 58)) ‘Beˉcareful,ˉdon’tˉeatˉfrozenˉberries.’ c.

Hån kåm o lovere ini witböxen. he come.pst and brag.pst in white_trouser.dat.pl (Nyströmˉ(1993: 105)) ‘Heˉcameˉbraggingˉinˉwhiteˉtrousers.’

The last sentence may be compared to the following one, which comes from the same source but where an adjective in -a followed by a noun with the -o ending: (37) Lulemål Hån hä fo fLugo, he have.prs get.sup fly hån hä låga se wita bökso. he have.prs make.def refl white trouser.dat.pl ‘He’sˉgotˉcrazy,ˉheˉhasˉgotˉhimselfˉwhiteˉtrousers.’



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

In other words, there is at least in Lulemål proper a competition between the incorporating construction and the syntactic construction that involves the historical dative. Given the expansion of definite forms and the general use of incorporated adjectives in definite noun phrases, one might expect the incorporating construction to be the normal way of translating English and Standard Swedish premodified indefinite noun phrases  – but instead it appears that the syntactic construction is the dominating one in several vernaculars. One possible scenario is that the construction with an adjective in -a and a noun in the historical dative form has arisen as an attempt to fill what seemed like a gap in the paradigm, namely an analogue to Standard Swedish premodified indefinite noun phrase: the -a ending would have been directly imported from Swedish, while the forms in -om/-o were apparently seen as more natural alternatives to Swedish plural nouns than the endingless historical indefinites. For the nouns that preserved a separate ending in the plural, it was not necessary to use an -om/-o form. Even if this scenario cannot be directly corroborated, there is some evidence that the ‘dative’ construction is relatively young. Thus, in the rather scanty documentation of the vernaculars in question from the 18th century we do not find it full-fledged. In Johan Ihre’s Pitemål word list (Reinhammar (2002)), we find the phrase fult å röd dittom ‘full of red dots’. Reinhammar comments that the dative form dittom ‘dots’ here is to be seen as a ‘fossilized formal dative … used instead of an indefinite plural form’. Interestingly, however, the adjective röd ‘red’ is used without an ending – in the modern vernacular we would have expected röda dittom as in the following example from Lidström & Berglund (1991: 232): (38)

Pitemål I såg na rö:da vantom ōpa fjö:ła. I see.pst some red.pl mitten.dat.pl on shelf.def ‘Iˉsawˉsomeˉredˉmittensˉonˉtheˉshelf.’

Of somewhat more indirect relevance are some dative forms found in a wedding poem from 1736, partially written in Lulemål (Dahlstedt & Ågren (1954: 94)): (39) Lulemålˉ(18thˉcentury) Crouna hu glitter a båra Demäanto crown it.fem glitter.prs of sheer diamond.pl Å fleiro dyirsteino i åll fyro känto and several.dat precious_stone.pl.dat in all four.dat corner.dat.pl ‘Theˉcrownˉisˉglitteringˉofˉpureˉdiamonds,3ˉandˉseveralˉpreciousˉstones ˉinˉallˉfourˉcorners.’

.  Båra looks a little like an adjective with the plural ending -a, but I have interpreted it here as an adverb meaning ‘only’.

 Östen Dahl

The datives here are conditioned by the preposition a ‘of ’, but what is notable is that the quantifiers fleiro ‘several’ and fyro ‘four’ agree with the following nouns and also take an -o ending. In older forms of North Germanic, adjectives would behave in a similar way, and the fact that we find a non-agreeing -a ending in the modern vernaculars is thus in need of an explanation – e.g., that it has been borrowed from varieties closer to Standard Swedish. Dahlstedt (1956: 36) mentions the possibility that the -a ending is ‘a kind of indefinite article in the plural’, and notes that with coordinated noun phrases, the first -a is sometimes left out, as in (40)

Pitemålˉ(Jävreˉvillage) små:´d å ståora dö`ssjon(m) small and big.pl heap_of_hay.pl.dat ‘smallˉandˉbigˉheapsˉofˉhay’

The question is, however, how much this buys us: it still remains to be explained where such an indefinite article would come from. Dahlstedt apparently identifies it with the quantifier a mentioned in 4.3 above, but in Lulemål and Rånemål we only find the form ar, so here such an identification is problematic. Some northern Swedish vernaculars do have a ‘postadjectival indefinite article’. Thus, in Skelleftemål (Northern Westrobothnian), according to Marklund (1976: 33), there are singular and plural forms, identical to the normal indefinite article: en djup-en tjeell ‘a deep spring’, e djufft-e vættn ‘a deep lake’, dju(u)p-â sjöa ‘deep lakes’. The singular form is optional but the plural form obligatory. Marklund provides the following examples of the obligatory use of the form in plural, with optional doubling of the article: (41) Skelleftemålˉ(NorthernˉWestrobothnian) d. Hân to oppâ se he take-pst on refl

â töörr-â vâânnt männ bLaawt-a stroomp indef dry-indef mitten.pl but wet-indef.pl sock.pl ‘Heˉputˉonˉdryˉmittensˉbutˉwetˉsocks’

e.

TaLför-a kweinn hâ talkative-indef.pl woman.pl have.prs



mässte fâtt tösstlâtn-a kæra. mostly get.sup taciturn-indef.pl man.pl



‘Talkativeˉwomenˉhaveˉmostlyˉgotˉtaciturnˉhusbands’

These examples are parallel to the historical dative construction in Southern Norrbothnian in some ways, but different in others. Like the Norrbothnian construction, it shows that premodified indefinite plural nouns are possible in contexts



The degenerate dative in Southern Norrbothnian 

where definite forms would otherwise be expected. But the forms are the usual plural indefinite forms, not historical datives. The adjectival endings look the same and although in Skelleftemål this is supposedly a plural indefinite article rather than an inflection, a historical relationship seems plausible. One may wonder, however, about the direction of derivation. In fact, it has been claimed that postadjectival articles are in fact reanalyzed (to use a modern term) adjectival endings, and in some areas the synchronic analysis is unclear. In other words, it would be the postadjectival a that is historically derived from the ending a rather than the other way around. Also, as Dahlstedt himself notes, the singular forms are not found in Norrbothnian, which makes the whole explanation less likely. The use of historical datives after possessive pronouns constitutes a special case. In most northern Scandinavian vernaculars, the usual pattern is for possessive pronouns to be postposed to definite nouns. Preposed possessive pronouns are used for emphasis but may also be due to standard language influence. We thus obtain contrasting pairs such as (42) Rånemål a. gåLan dåmers farm.def.pl their b. dåmers gåLo their farm.dat.pl ‘theirˉfarms’

To the extent that the preposing construction is calqued on Standard Swedish, it can also be seen as filling a gap in the paradigm as it were, where the historical dative has been recruited as an analogue to the Standard Swedish indefinite plural.

8.  Conclusion What we have seen in this paper is a rather unexpected development of a case ending, by which it comes to serve as a kind of plural marker, simultaneously signalling that the noun phrase is premodified. This is certainly not a major grammaticalization path that would be represented in many different languages of the world, and exactly how the present-day situation regarding the historical dative in Southern Norrbothnian has come about will probably remain a mystery in view of the lack of diachronic data. But if the historical development sketched in the preceding section is the correct one, it is a result of a number of rather complex preconditions in the grammatical systems of the varieties in question, with a possible influence of areal pressure.

 Östen Dahl

References Bergholm, E., Linder, M. & Yttergren, C. 1999. Nordsvenska nominalfraser – analyser av en enkätundersökning. C-uppsats 10 p. Thesis. Inst för filosofi och lingvistik, Umeå universitet. Brännström, I. 1993. Grammatik på pitemålet. Piteå: Piteå museum. Dahl, Ö. & Koptjevskaja-Tamm, M. 2006. The resilient dative and other remarkable cases in Scandinavian vernaculars. Sprachtypologie und Universalienforschung 59: 56–75. Dahlstedt, K.-H. 1956. Inledning till Pitemålet. Norrbotten. Norrbottens läns hembygdsförenings årsbok, 9–46. Dahlstedt, K.-H. & Ågren, P.-U. 1954. Övre Norrlands bygdemål: berättelser på bygdemål med förklaringar och en dialektöversikt. Umeå: Vetenskapliga bibl. Delsing, L.-O. 2003. Syntaktisk variation i nordiska nominalfraser. In Dialektsyntaktiska studier av den nordiska nominalfrasen, Ø. A. Vangsnes, A. Holmberg & L.-O. Delsing (Eds), 11–64. Oslo: Novus. Larsson, S. 1929. Substantivböjningen i Västerbottens folkmål: Jämte en exkurs till ljudläran. Uppsala. Lidström, G. & Berglund, E. 1991. Pitemålet: ållt mila àagg å ööx. Piteå: ABF Piteåbygden. Marklund, T. 1976. Skelleftemålet: Grammatik och ordlista: För lekmän – av lekman. Boliden. Nordström, A. 1925. Luleåkultur. Luleå. Nyström, H. 1988. Kann’dù Peit’måhle: blä’der få’dùsi’j. 5. uppl.  Stockholm: Författares bokmaskin. Nyström, J.-O. 1993. Ordbok över Lulemålet: på grundval av dialekten i Antnäs by, Nederluleå socken. Skrifter utgivna av Dialekt-, ortnamns- och folkminnesarkivet i Umeå. Serie A, Dialekter, 10. Umeå: Dialekt- ortnamns- och folkminnesarkivet. Reinhammar, M. 2002. En 1700-talsordlista från Piteå [Acta Academiae Regiae Gustavi Adolphi 80]. Uppsala: Gustav Adolfs akad./Swedish Science Press. Westerberg, A. 2004. Norsjömålet under 150 år [Acta Academiae Regiae Gustavi Adolphi 86]. Uppsala: Swedish Science Press. Widmark, F. 1863. Bidrag till kännedomen om Vesterbottens landskapsmål. Stockholm: Westrell. Wikberg, D. 2004. Rånemålet i Böle = Ranmale opa Böle. Råneå: Böle hembygdsfören.

Case compounding in the Bodic languages Michael Noonan

University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Case compounding, which can be defined as the inclusion of two or more case markers within a phonological word, has received a certain amount of attention in the literature in recent years, in particular the phenomenon known as Suffixaufnahme [e.g., in Plank 1995a] and the various sorts of case compounding in Australian languages, some of which manifest Suffixaufnahme and other types of case compounding. There has been relatively less attention paid to the phenomenon outside of these two areas of research. This paper is an attempt to rectify the situation somewhat by presenting a general typology of case compounding, followed by a detailed analysis of the phenomenon in the Bodic languages, a section of the Tibeto-Burman family.

1.  Introduction Case compounding has received a certain amount of attention in the literature in recent years, in particular the phenomenon known as Suffixaufnahme [e.g., in Plank 1995a] and the various sorts of case compounding in Australian languages, some of which manifest Suffixaufnahme and other types of case compounding. There has been relatively less attention paid to the phenomenon outside of these two areas of research, and this paper is an attempt to rectify the situation somewhat by presenting data from a large family of languages, the Bodic languages, spoken in the areas straddling the spine of the Himalayas. 1.1  Bodic languages The Bodic languages are a large and ramified branch of the Tibeto-Burman languages.1 It is a controversial grouping in the sense that there is no consensus as to what should be placed within it and indeed whether it is a legitimate genetic grouping at all or just an assemblage of Tibeto-Burman languages that have been

.  The work reported on in this paper has been supported by the following grants from the National Science Foundation: DBC-9121114; SBR-9600717; and SBR-9728369.

 Michael Noonan

spoken in the region of the Himalayas long enough for the languages to have influenced each other in a variety of ways. A figure illustrating possible relationships among the Bodic languages can be found in Appendix 1. For our purposes, nothing crucial hinges on the assumption that these languages form a genetic grouping. It suffices that structurally these languages share certain features, among which is a tendency to compound markers of case within a phonological word. 1.2  Definition of case compounding We will define case compounding as the inclusion of two or more case markers within a phonological word. In this paper, we are concerned exclusively with case compounding within nominal words, which is to say that we are not concerned with instances of case compounding within verbal words or in those of adjectives, though we will consider case compounding in nouns used adnominally. Further, we are concerned with case only in two of its functional domains: relational case, which relates core arguments to the verb and peripheral arguments to the clause; and adnominal case, which relates one NP to another. We are not concerned with case usage as it relates specifically to subordinate verbals either with regard to the case marking of whole clauses or to arguments within these clauses headed by subordinate verbals; we are also not concerned with modal case (Evans 1995), whereby a case marker with locative relational function may, under certain circumstances, code clausal tense, mood, and aspect on certain non-subjects. 1.3  Kinds of case compounding Given the definition of case compounding above, we can distinguish at least the following sorts of case compounding crosslinguistically.2 a.  case stacking:  This sort of case compounding is the functional equivalent of preposition compounding in languages like English, e.g., into the house, onto the chair, etc. With this type, two independently occurring case affixes are used together to describe a complex trajectory, one that is understood as a

.  The terminological framework used here draws from Austin (1995), Plank (1995b), and Moravcsik (1995). I exclude from the typology that follows instances where two forms signaling the same case are found in a single word without substantially affecting the meaning. For example, Huber (2005: 61) observes that in Kyirong Tibetan the ergative may be doubled as a way of clarifying or emphasizing the ergative marking which might otherwise not be clear. So pu̱ ‘son, boy’ has a regular ergative py̖, but in addition there is a reinforced ergative py̖-ge containing -ge, an ergative marker ordinarily suffixed to stems with final consonants or long vowels.



Case compounding in the Bodic languages 

combination of the meanings of the two case affixes. The Tamangic language Chantyal provides an example (Noonan 2003a, 2005): (1) tɦim-nɦari-gәmsә house-ines-abl ‘outˉfromˉinsideˉtheˉhouse’

b.  derivational:  This is Austin’s (1995) term for a situation whereby one case serves as the ‘basis’ [or ‘founding form’] for another, which is not found independently without the first.3 The Tocharian A declension of ‘teacher’ can serve as an example: (2) nominative accusative genitive instrumental perlative comitative allative ablative locative

singular k扉i k扉iṁ k扉iyāp k扉inyo k扉inā k扉ina∫∫æl k扉inaʧ k扉inæ‰ k扉inaṁ

plural k扉i\ k扉is k扉i∫∫i k扉isyo k扉isā k扉isa∫∫æl k扉isaʧ k扉isæ‰ k扉isaṁ

The genitive singular and nominative apart, the other cases are based on the accusative [historically -in and -is for the singular and plural, respectively] to which postpositions which once had governed the accusative fused. As markers of case, these former postpositions do not occur without the historic accusative. c.  referential:  This term is also from Austin (1995) and, in the context of case compounding as here defined, refers to a set of locative nominals which can be interpreted either adnominally [as in (3)] or adverbially [as in (4)]. For either sort, these are marked with one case indicating location or direction and another referencing the NP it modifies or refers to. The first example is from Warlpiri (Hale 1982), (3) ŋarrka-ŋku ka yankirri luwa-rni ŋapa-ŋka-rlu man-erg pres emu shoot-nonpast water-loc-erg ‘Theˉmanˉatˉtheˉwaterholeˉisˉshootingˉtheˉemu.’

.  Austin’s definition of derivational case compounding is broader than mine and excludes the last limiting clause; it could be interpreted to include at least some instances of what I call here case stacking. His definition is, no doubt, appropriate for the Australian languages he was concerned with, but mine is intended to deal with a larger range of data.

 Michael Noonan

and the second is from Jiwarli (Austin 1995): (4) thuthu-ngku juma-rti-nha yanga-rninyja warlpari-lu dog-erg child-pl-acc chase-past south.all-erg ‘Theˉdogˉchasedˉtheˉchildrenˉsouth.’

The referential type is clearly related to the adnominal types described below. d.  headed adnominal, with a case-marked head:  This is the phenomenon described in detail in Plank (1995a) and called there Suffixaufnahme. It involves the agreement by a nominal modifier of the case of its head while retaining its own adnominal case, typically a genitive, as in the following Anguthimri example (Schweiger 1995): (5) wazayi-ɣamɽa-ma patra-ma old.man-gen-abl canoe-abl ‘fromˉtheˉoldˉman’sˉcanoe’

e.  headed adnominal, with no case marking on the head:  This phenomenon, called Suffixhäufung in Plank (1995a), is similar to the prototypical cases of Suffixaufnahme except that the head is not marked for case, while the modifier is marked both for the adnominal case and the case for the case of the entire NP. An example from Arinda follows, reported in Moravcsik (1995): (6) worra ingkata-kana-la son chief-gen-erg ‘theˉchief ’sˉson’

In this example, the ergative is understood to be associated with the NP defined by the head, son. f. simple headless adnominal:  This construction is referred to as hypostasis in Plank (1995a). In this construction a headless possessor is marked with the genitive [or other adnominal case] and also with the case indicating the grammatical function of the whole, headless NP within the clause. An example follows from Chantyal: (7) nә-ye-sә kɦi-ye-ra jɦi-i 1s-gen-erg 2s-gen-dat hit-perf ‘Mineˉbitˉyours’

In this example, the ergative and dative cases are assigned to NPs filling subject and direct object slots, respectively. The genitive-marked NPs filling these slots take on the clausal case as well.



Case compounding in the Bodic languages 

g.  complex attributive nominal: In this construction, a case-marked noun is further marked with a nominalizer-attributive affix,4 and the resulting noun may be further case-marked as appropriate for its nominal role. Consider the following examples from Chantyal: (8) a.

mәŋgәle-ri-wa mәnchi Mangale-loc-nom person ‘personˉfromˉMangale’

b. mәŋgәle-ri-wa kha-i Mangale-loc-nom come-perf ‘someone/somethingˉfromˉMangaleˉcame’ c.

mәŋgәle-ri-wa-ma Mangale-loc-nom-pl ‘thoseˉfromˉMangale’

d. mәŋgәle-ri-wa-ma-sә na-ra mara-i Mangale-loc-nom-pl 1s-dat see-perf ‘thoseˉfromˉMangaleˉsawˉme’

The adnominal in (8a) is interpreted as a noun and fills a clausal noun slot in (8b). It is pluralized in (8c), and in (8d) acquires the ergative case appropriate for its grammatical role within the clause. Case marked forms like these may acquire an additional nominalizer-attributive affix, as in (9): (9) mәŋgәle-ri-wa-ma-siŋ-wa photo Mangale-loc-nom-pl-com-nom photo ‘theˉphotoˉbelongingˉtoˉtheˉpeopleˉfromˉMangale’

This,ˉinˉturn,ˉmayˉacquireˉanˉappropriateˉcaseˉmarkerˉindicatingˉtheˉ grammaticalˉstatusˉofˉtheˉwhole,ˉasˉinˉ(10):ˉ (10) na-sә mәŋgәle-ri-wa-ma-siŋ-wa-ra dekhә-i 1s-erg Mangale-loc-nom-pl-com-nom-dat show-perf ‘IˉshowedˉitˉtoˉtheˉownersˉfromˉMangale’

Nominalization in this sense is a recursive process in Chantyal and other languages employing this construction and may involve case compounding under the definition given here. mәŋgәle-ri-wa-ma-siŋ-wa-ra contains three case clitics: a locative, a comitative, and a dative, all within the same phonological word.5

.  The syncretism of nominalization and attribution is typical of the Bodic languages (Noonan 1997, 2008). .  Edith Moravcsik (p.c.) has suggested that the classification of types of case compounding

 Michael Noonan

2.  Case compounding in the Bodic languages 2.1  Attested types in Bodic Of the seven types of nominal case compounding identified in the last section, the Bodic languages attest four: (11)

a. b. f. g.

caseˉstacking derivational simpleˉheadlessˉadnominal complexˉattributiveˉnominal

Case stacking is quite widely attested, at least historically, in most branches of the family. Derivational case compounding is not especially common, but it is certainly attested. The simple headless adnominal type is not frequently mentioned in grammatical descriptions, so its frequency is difficult to assess; however, an informal sampling seems to indicate that it is probably very common in this group. The complex attributive nominal type is probably not common, but most descriptions of Bodic languages are not sufficiently detailed so as to make a clear assessment of the frequency of this construction possible. Each of these types will be discussed in the sections below. 2.2  Case in Bodic The Bodic languages are strongly verb-final and agglutinating. There are no concord classes, though in a few cases adjectives borrowed from Indic languages may reflect ‘natural’ gender, displaying a special form when modifying nouns designating human females. With regard to case, within the nominal word the order is stem+number+case, though in a few uncommon instances, number and case may be marked with a fused form. Almost all Bodic languages are morphologically split-ergative, though the semantic-pragmatic basis for the split varies considerably within the group. A few languages, e.g., some Tamangic languages such as Chantyal and Gurung, are fairly consistently ergative. As demonstrated by Bickel (2003), some languages [e.g.,

provided in this section could be reduced to a smaller number of distinct types: A. Case compounding on heads, which would include as subtypes a. case stacking and b. derivational case compounding; and B. Case compounding on modifiers, which would include as subtypes d. Headed adnominal, with a case-marked head, e. Headed adnominal, with no case marking on the head, and, as a single subtype c/f/g. which would be retitled Case marker on modifier, no head present. The classification given in §1.3 is preserved here in part because it serves the narrow purposes of this paper which is to present a discussion of case compounding in the Bodic languages.



Case compounding in the Bodic languages 

Belhare] may exhibit both A/P and S/P pivots; other languages [e.g., Chantyal] effectively have no pivots. Primary object marking (Dryer 1986) is widespread in the group: the case that marks indirect objects [usually called ‘dative’] also marks high animacy direct objects. In all languages an unmarked [or zero-marked] noun is used for at least some direct objects and typically for other nouns as well: such nouns are usually referred to as ‘absolutives’. Postpositions almost always govern either the genitive or an absolutive. Instances of postpositional governance of other cases are very rare. As an example of this phenomenon in Bodic, Koshal (1979) reports that in Ladakhi the postposition kә ‘on, above’ governs the ablative and the postposition phi ‘for’ governs the dative, but it would be interesting to investigate the matter to determine if this is truly an instance of governed case or an instance of case stacking since cognates of both supposed postpositions occur as case clitics in closely related languages. 2.2.1  Case expressed by clitics Though the literature on Bodic languages generally refers to case markers as ‘suffixes’ and occasionally as ‘postpositions’, the ‘core’ case markers [those coding grammatical cases and the basic local ones] are usually best analyzed as clitics: they are not postpositions because they are not prosodically independent nor may they occur in free discourse independently from the nouns to which they are bound; they are not suffixes because when NPs are coordinated, the case forms are ordinarily not repeated for each NP, and where word order in particular languages permits, the case forms can attach to words other than the nouns to which they are logically associated since these clitics are always phrase-final clitics. As an illustration of the phrase-final enclitic status of the case markers in a typical Bodic language, consider the following data from the Tamangic language Nar-Phu: (12) ŋӕ ˆ tile [čhupruŋ nartwε-re] ni-čin 1s yesterday Nar Phu-dat.loc go-past ˉ went ˉ to ˉ Nar ˉ and ˉ Phu ˉ yesterday’ . ‘I (13) paŋčεn-se [nôkyu thεpε mɦlaŋ-re] šê-čin leopard-erg dog big black-dat.loc kill-past ‘Theˉleopardˉkilledˉtheˉbig,ˉblackˉdog’.

The dative-locative case marker -re illustrated in the sentences above is prosodically part of the word to which it is attached: in Nar-Phu, for example, the tone associated with the noun or adjective spreads onto the case clitic -re [Noonan 2003b]. In (12), the conjoined locative NPs share the dative-locative case clitic. In (13), the direct object NP is marked with the dative-locative clitic [Nar-Phu is a primary object language in the sense of Dryer 1986]: note that the clitic is attached to the final word in the NP, not to the head.

 Michael Noonan

There are generally no declensional classes and, pronouns apart, few paradigmatic irregularities. Where they occur, their grammatical import, if not necessarily their historical origin, is usually fairly transparent. For example, in Kathmandu Newari the plural affix is -tɔ for ordinary animate nouns, but -pĩ for honored referents: cf khica-tɔ ‘dog’s’ and pasa-pĩ ‘friends’ [Hargreaves 2003]. True irregularities may have more complex origins. In the Tamangic language Chantyal, five high frequency nouns have an irregular locative, not otherwise attested in Tamangic nouns, though it is found in various directionals:6 (14)

tɦem-әŋ ‘house, home’ kɦyam-әŋ ‘path, way’ gãw-әŋ ‘village’ Bini-әŋ ‘Beni’ kyels-әŋ ‘field’

[The locative is otherwise rendered by either -ri or -ra, depending on certain predictable semantic factors (Noonan 2005).] Of these five nouns, two [‘village’ and ‘Beni’] are of Nepali origin, and so cannot instantiate an old, retained pattern; of the other three words, one demonstrates an otherwise unattested phonological irregularity: ‘house’ is otherwise tɦim. The cognates of these words in the other Tamangic languages do not exhibit any sort of irregularity. These and other facts suggest that these forms were either borrowed from or influenced in their development by the Bodic language Magar, whose generic locative is -aŋ: much of the Chantyal population is descended from ethnic Magars (Noonan 1996, 2008b). 2.2.2  origin of case markers Where we know for certain the origins of a case marker in the Bodic languages, the source is invariably a noun. The historical succession of stages is roughly as follows: (15) stageˉ1:ˉ [Na-gen]ˉNb-locc genitivalˉmodificationˉofˉaˉlocative-markedˉN locative-markedˉpostposition stageˉ2:ˉ [Na]ˉPb(-locc) (compound)ˉlocativeˉcase stageˉ3:ˉ Na-locb(-locc)

In stage 1 we have a genitive modifier of a noun in construction with a local case marker. By stage 2 the genitive usually disappears, and often so does the marker of local case on the new denominal postposition. By stage 3 the postposition becomes a case clitic. I’ll provide two examples illustrating this succession of stages.

.  By directionals, I mean words with meanings like ‘down [static]’, ‘downward’, ‘up [static]’, ‘upward’, etc. In these words, the element -ŋ indicates static location. With the nouns in (14), the element -әŋ shares the static locative-allative sense of the other two locative case clitics in the language.



Case compounding in the Bodic languages 

In Proto-Bodic there was a noun with a form something like *s-naŋ ‘interior, inside’ which likely derived from *s-na with a suffixed relational etymon *Vŋ.7 In the contemporary languages, this is widely attested as a noun, but it is also widely attested as a postposition and a case clitic, with and without the historic locative. All the stages find attestation from the Tamangic languages: (16)

stageˉ1:ˉˉchantyal tɦim-ye nɦaŋ-ri house-gen interior-loc ‘to/inˉtheˉhouse’sˉinterior’



stage 2:ˉˉthakaliˉ(Georgˉ1996) nar-phu tɦîm nɦâŋ tim4 naŋ3-ri house inside-loc house inside ‘insideˉtheˉhouse’ ‘insideˉtheˉhouse’



stageˉ3:ˉˉchantyal tɦim-nɦari house-inessive ‘insideˉtheˉhouse’

As discussed in Noonan (2008a), *s-naŋ has evolved into a comitative in a number of languages, and in others an allative [Central Monpa] and an instrumental [Ladakhi]. A rather more interesting case is Proto-Bodic *(g-)lam ‘road, way’, which has evolved into an ablative independently in Tamangic and Kiranti. A number of Kiranti languages attest both the nominal reflex and the ablative, the latter occurring either alone as the case clitic -lam or in combination with the widely attested case etymon *ka, whose uses in the Kiranti languages center around the ergativeinstrumental-ablative syncretism, but which also signals generic locatives and other relational notions elsewhere [Noonan 2008a]. In the Tamangic languages, *(g-)lam is universally attested in its nominal form, and is also attested in Chantyal, Dhankute Tamang, and Seke as an ablative, in these languages either alone or in combination with their ergative-instrumental-ablative *sa. The semantic development is as follows: ‘road’ together with an instrumental marker is in construction with a place name resulting in a construction meaning ‘with/by means of the road (of) X’. Path senses are primary, with ablative senses developing from these. The old ergative-instrumental-ablative marker may either be retained as in Thulung

.  Matisoff 2003 reconstructs *na ‘ear’, which, with the relational affix, may underlie *s-naŋ. Starostin & Pejros (n.d.) reconstruct *naŋ/*nak ‘inside’ for Proto-Sino-Tibetan.

 Michael Noonan

-laŋka [Kiranti] and Chantyal -gәmsә [Tamangic] or deleted as in Dumi -lam [Kiranti] or Dhankute Tamang -gjam [Tamangic].8 2.3  Derivational case compounding The transition from stage 1 to stage 2 is typically accompanied by the loss of the genitive, as illustrated in (16) above, but this is not universally the case, and such retentions account for all examples of derivational case compounding in Bodic. The most common path to derivational case compounding, under the definition given here, involves a grammaticalization chain whereby de-nominal postpositions governing the genitive lose their status as independent words and fuse with the genitive. This results in a declension in which the genitive may occur independently and may also occur in combination with case markers derived from the old postpositions. An example of derivational case compounding can be seen in Kathmandu Newari (Hargreaves 2003): (17) -ya genitive -ya-tɔ dative -ya-ke comitative

In this language, the dative and comitative derived from denominal postpositions in construction with the genitive, the case they once governed. The genitive element has now become optional, rendering this example more typical of the usual progression from NP head [via postposition] to case marker in Bodic, which inevitably seems to involve the loss of the historic genitive. Derivational case compounding in Bodic never achieves the sort of systematicity found in languages like Avar (Blake 1994), which combines a set of five basic static locational markers with a set of three directionals to yield a system of twenty cases: since the static locationals can occur independently as well [they are the base forms], this system can be analyzed as an instance of derivational case combining. (18)

‘onˉtopˉof ’ ‘at’ ‘under’ ‘in,ˉamong’ ‘inˉaˉhollowˉ object’

static location -da -q -ƛʹ -ƛ ø

motion toward -d-e -q-e -ƛʹ-e -ƛ-e -e

motion away -da-ssa -q-a -ƛʹ-a -ƛ-a -a

path -da-ssa-n -q-a-n -ƛʹ-a-n -ƛ-a-n -ssa-n

.  In both Thulung and Chantyal, the erstwhile ergative-instrumental-ablative suffix may be deleted as well, making these examples more like their Dumi and Dhankute Tamang counterparts. And in Chantyal, the erstwhile ergative-instrumental-ablative may also occur alone as an ablative, though infrequently so apart from some common expressions: see below §2.4.



Case compounding in the Bodic languages 

The Avar system with its combination of forms with local meanings bears some resemblance to typical instances of case stacking, which will be described in the next section. Kabak (2006) proposes that postpositions following inflected nouns are less likely to cliticize than those following uninflected nouns. The succession from stage 1 to stage 2 proposed in (15) has the genitive dropping out prior to the cliticization of the postposition [stage 3], and thus is not in conflict with Kabak’s hypothesis. The situation described for Kathmandu Newari is, however, as would, in principle, any instance of derivational case compounding whose origins lie in the cliticization of a postposition, e.g., the Tocharian A example in (2) and the Avar system described above, assuming that the directionals in the latter derive from postpositions. In any case, the typical loss of the genitive in the transition from stage 1 to stage 2 may explain the relative ease with which postpositions cliticize in Bodic and, taken together with Kabak’s hypothesis, the comparative rarity of derivational case compounding in this group.9 2.4  Case stacking The frequency of case stacking in the Bodic languages varies greatly from language to language, though most branches provide evidence for the phenomenon, if only in the reconstruction of contemporary case forms. Informally, we can distinguish two sorts: case stacking for the expression of complex trajectories, and case stacking for the expression of other relational notions. The first sort – case stacking for the expression of complex trajectories – is widely attested and in some languages is reasonably common. This is the case for the Tamangic language Chantyal, and complex examples involving up to three case clitics10 occur in spontaneous discourse: (19) dɦuŋ-phyaraŋ-mar-gәmsә tree-super-circ-abl ‘fromˉaroundˉtheˉtopˉofˉtheˉtree’11

.  In principle, it is possible for a system of derivational case compounding to arise from case stacking where in an arrangement of -loc1-loc2 the first, -loc1, is used with more than one other case and particular instances of -loc2 come to be restricted so as not to occur independently but only in -loc1-loc2 constructions. The Avar system may have its origin in such an arrangement, but I know of no cases in Bodic where derivational case compounding has arisen in this way. .  It should be emphasized that these forms are all clitics [and not words] since together they form a single stress unit with their head noun. .  All of the case clitics in (19) are complex: -gәmsә was discussed in §2.2.2 above; -mar contains locative -ri; phyaraŋ contains the locative element -ŋ.

 Michael Noonan

Case stacking in Chantyal is used to code complex trajectories that cannot be expressed by single case clitics. For the expression of complex trajectories, the order of clitics is fairly consistent. The rightmost clitic expresses a trajectory and the leftmost one a location; where there are three, as in (19), the middle one may describe either a static location or a motion. As a practical matter, the clitics marking trajectory in Chantyal case stacking are just two: -gәmsә, signaling source dynamic [ablative] senses, and -mar, signaling motion, random or circular, in the vicinity of something.12 Since Chantyal instantiates the common tendency to use the same forms for static location and for goal dynamic [allative] senses [see Noonan 2005 for extensive discussion and exemplification], case stacking is not usual where the combination would signal goal dynamic senses. In Chantyal, case stacking seems to be a productive process in the sense that novel forms may be produced and understood given an appropriate stimulus, but most instances in free discourse are probably lexicalized to some degree, and this opens the door for certain kinds of irregularity. For example, the ablative/path clitic -gәmsә has a number of variants which are in more-or-less free variation when the clitic is used alone with nouns, including the full form and two reduced forms: one involving the initial syllable -gәm only, and the other involving the final syllable -sә, itself a reflex of the old ergative-instrumental-ablative syncretism. In certain combinations with other case clitics, certain allomorphs are preferred. (20)

-nɦari-gәmsә -mar-gәmsә -pɦiriŋ-sә -phyaraŋ-sә

‘fromˉinside’ ‘fromˉaround’ ‘underˉandˉthrough’ ‘overˉacross’

Of the set in (20), the last example provides an interesting contrast: where the meaning ‘over across’ is intended, the reduced allomorph is required; there the meaning ‘from over, from the top’ is required, the usual form is -phyaraŋ-gәmsә, i.e., with the non-reduced form. This is evidence for the specialization of the allomorphs, lexicalization, or, more likely, both. What is interesting is that the path senses evident in the meaning of the last two examples in (20) derive historically from the full form: recall the discussion in §2.2.2 where it was noted that the full form -gәmsә has its origin in a construction signaling path. Case stacking for the expression of senses not involving complex trajectories is much less common and never productive, though examples can be found easily enough. For example in Spiti, a member of the Tibetan Complex (Sharma 1992),

.  -mar also signals location in the vicinity of something, as in (19).



Case compounding in the Bodic languages 

the dative [which expresses primary objects] can be signaled by -phi-la, which consists of benefactive -phi and dative-locative -la. In other words, the dative sense could already be signaled by dative-locative -la, but a new, dedicated dative, -phi-la, was created by case stacking. This use of case stacking – to create dedicated forms where the old forms express functional syncretisms – is one source for renewal of case systems in these languages. 2.5  Simple headless adnominals It was noted in §1.3 that the sort of case compounding in the expression of simple headless adnominals, while seldom discussed in the literature, seems possible in all the Bodic languages I’ve investigated. I provide below another example, parallel to the example in (7) above, this time from Thangmi [Mark Turin, p.c.]: (21) gai-go-ye naŋ-ko-kai cah-Ø-u-no 1s-gen-erg 2s-gen-dat bite-ag.su.sg-3pat-3→3.pret ‘Mineˉbitˉyours’ˉ[e.g.,ˉofˉdogs]

Essentially, we have a bracketing like [[N-gen]Ø-case], where the phrase-final case clitic simply attaches to the next available host. Looked at another way, the genitive functions here as a sort of nominalizer, permitting the adnominal NP to fill a noun slot requiring another case. In principle, this could even be a genitive slot, though if it were, haplology would, at least in Chantyal, eliminate the second genitive, except in very careful speech: (22) nә-ye ( OVX (35%) > OXV (22%). And the number of OV languages without a single basic order is significantly higher than the 10% figure for VO, at 27%. .  For a summary of the criteria used by Dryer with Gensler (2005) in deciding that a particular order is ‘basic’ in a language, see Dryer’s (2005) chapter in WALS.

 John A. Hawkins

It is this asymmetry between the two major (head-initial and head-final) language types that makes the current area of investigation interesting, but also challenging. Examples of XOV, OXV and OVX languages given in Dryer with Gensler (2005) are Slave, Nagatman, and Kairiru respectively: (4) Slave  (Athapaskan,ˉRiceˉ1989: 997) t’eere [deno gha] ?erákee?ee wihsį girl refl.mother for parka 3.made X O V ‘Theˉgirlˉmadeˉaˉparkaˉforˉherˉmother.’ (5) Nagatman  (isolate,ˉPapuaˉNewˉGuinea,ˉCampbellˉ&ˉCampbellˉ1987: 8) [mo me] [ke na] hohui-në-taya fish obj these with look.for-1.subj-3pl.obj O X V ‘Weˉlookˉforˉfishˉwithˉthese.’ (6) Kairiruˉ(Oceanic,ˉPapuaˉNewˉGuinea,ˉWivellˉ1981: 151) ei porritamiok a-pik [gege-i nat nai] 3sg axe 3sg-take from-3sg child that O V X ‘He/Sheˉtookˉtheˉaxeˉfromˉthatˉchild.’

1.2  The patterns The data of Table 1 reveal a number of partly gradient, partly discrete patterns, which are summarized in Table 2 using Roman numerals in square brackets to identify each. Pattern [I] has already been commented on: the consistency of VO vs. OV variability. Table 2.  Basic Patterns in Table 1 [I] [II] [III] [IV]

VO consistency vs. OV variability VO lgs: 98% of basic orders are VOX; 10% have no dominant order OV lgs: all three basic orders productive; 27% have no dominant order V&O adjacency VO lgs: 100% have adjacent V&O (no VXO) OV lgs: 78% have adjacent V&O (all but OXV) Across all lgs, adjacent basic orders of V&O = 92% (274/297) O and X on same side of V VO lgs: 98% have O and X on same side (all but XVO) OV lgs: 65% have O and X on same side (all but OVX) Across all lgs, basic orders of O and X on same side = 87% (257/297) O before X VO lgs: 98% have OX, 2% XO (Chinese dialects only) OV lgs: 57% have OX (60/105), 43% XO (45/105) Across all lgs, basic orders of O before X = 84% (249/297)



An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

Three more specific patterns contribute to this general pattern. Pattern [II] is V&O adjacency. A remarkable 100% of VO languages have verb and object adjacent (i.e., no VXO); 78% of OV languages also exhibit this preference (all but OXV). Overall 274 out of 297 languages with basic orders have V and O adjacent to one another, or 92%. A futher pattern, found in 87% of all basic orders, is [III] O and X on the same side of V. 98% of VO languages exemplify this (all but XVO), and 65% of OV (all but OVX). A final pattern, found in 84% of all basic orders is [IV] O before X, i.e., the direct object precedes the oblique phrase. Again, 98% of VO languages exemplify this, as do 57% of OV. 1.3  Processing typology Processing typology is an interdisciplinary research program that examines patterns such as these across grammars and compares them with the patterns and preferences found in performance in languages with several structures of a given type. In the present study this means looking at alternative orderings of V, O and X within and across languages. In a study of relative clauses it means comparing the distribution of different relative clause strategies within and across languages, and so on. This program tests the hypothesis, termed the Performance-Grammar Correspondence Hypothesis in Hawkins (2004), that the same principles underlie both sets of patterns and hence that performance and processing can help us better understand, and predict, grammatical variation and language universals. The pgch is defined in (7): (7) Performance-GrammarˉCorrespondenceˉHypothesisˉ(pgch) Grammarsˉhaveˉconventionalizedˉsyntacticˉstructuresˉinˉproportionˉto their degreeˉofˉpreferenceˉinˉperformance,ˉasˉevidencedˉbyˉpatternsˉof selection inˉcorporaˉandˉbyˉeaseˉofˉprocessingˉinˉpsycholinguistic experiments.

For example, relative clauses may exhibit a ‘gap’ or a ‘resumptive pronoun’ strategy (Keenan & Comrie 1977), in Hebrew and many other languages, giving alternations corresponding to the students [that I teach 0]) and the students [that I teach them]. A relative clause can occur with and without a relative pronoun, as in English the students [whom I teach] vs. the students [0 I teach]. One of these strategies may be ‘fixed’ or ‘conventionalized’ in some environments, while there can be optionality and variation in others. The selection from the variants in performance exhibits patterns. The retention of the relative pronoun in English is correlated with the degree of separation of the relative clause from its head, as Quirk (1957) first observed in his corpus of spoken British English. Zero relatives (those without relative pronouns) are preferred when adjacent

 John A. Hawkins

to the head noun; and the greater the separation between the relative clause and its head, the greater the preference for the explicit relative pronoun (Hawkins 2004: 153). The Hebrew gap is similarly favored with smaller distances between the head noun filler and its gap than between the head noun and a resumptive pronoun (Ariel 1999). The distribution of gaps to resumptive pronouns in the fixed conventions of grammars also reveals patterns. The distribution follows the Keenan & Comrie (1977) Accessibility Hierarchy (AH) (Subjects > Direct Objects > Indirect Objects/ Obliques > Genitives, cf. Comrie 1989), with gaps preferred in the higher positions and explicit pronouns in the lower ones. More precisely, if a gap occurs low on the hierarchy, it occurs all the way up, and if a pronoun occurs high, it occurs all the way down. Keenan-Comrie argued that this grammatical pattern was ultimately explainable by declining ease of processing down the AH. This line of reasoning has been generalized beyond relative clauses within the processing typology program (Hawkins 1999, 2004). The preferred word orders in languages and structures with considerable freedom appear to be those that are grammaticalized in languages with more fixed and basic orderings such as English. The pgch defines a very different relationship between performance and grammars than the classic one presented in Chomsky (1965) and in most of his subsequent publications. The (competence) grammar is an important component of an overall performance model for Chomsky, but he has argued repeatedly that grammars are autonomous and independent of performance factors and that they are determined by an innate U(niversal) G(rammar). Processing typology is built on the opposite assumption of (7). It gives a different account of cross-linguistic variation, explains numerous exceptions to proposed universals, and avoids unsupported appeals to innate grammatical parameters. The need for a different approach has been argued for recently by Newmeyer (2005) in his critique of Chomsky’s ‘principles and parameters’. Newmeyer shows that these principles are not adequate empirically, when a wide range of languages is considered, and he advocates abandoning them and replacing them with performance principles along the lines of the pgch. The pgch also provides a better fit with findings from many branches of the language sciences in which there is a growing awareness of this basic correspondence. Haspelmath (1999) has proposed a theory of diachrony in which usage preferences lead to changing grammatical conventions over time. Bybee & Hopper (2001) document the clear role of frequency in the emergence of grammatical structure. There have been computer simulations of language evolution, exemplified by Kirby (1999) in which processing preferences of the kind assumed for word order in Hawkins (1990, 1994) are incorporated in the simulation and lead to the emergence of the observed grammatical types after numerous iterations (corresponding to successive generations of language users). There have been developments in Optimality Theory, exemplified by Haspelmath (1999) and Aissen (1999), in which functional



An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

motivations are provided for many of the basic constraints of that theory, some of them of an explicitly processing nature. A further extension, Stochastic Optimality Theory (Bresnan et al. 2001; Manning 2003), is an explicit attempt to generate the preferences of performance (‘soft constraints’) as well as the grammatical conventions (‘hard constraints’) using the formal machinery of Optimality Theory, suitably extended. O’Grady (2005) proposes an account of the emergence of syntactic structures from basic operations of processing that is in the spirit of the pgch and he explores the consequences for language acquisition. The goal of the remainder of this paper will be to test this research hypothesis (pgch) with respect to the data and patterns of Tables 1 and 2. Conventionalized grammatical orderings of V, O and X across languages will be compared with performance variants within languages involving these and similar categories, in the search for principles that underlie the typological patterns.

2.  Minimize domains in performance and grammars Why is it that certain orders are preferred over others in performance and in grammars? I have argued (Hawkins 1994, 2004) that it is because there are principles of efficiency and complexity that motivate the preferences. One was suggested to me when working on Greenberg’s (1963) word order correlations, such as the one linking the position of the verb within VP to the presence of prepositions or postpositions within pp (Hawkins 1990): (8) a. b. c. d.

vp[wentˉpp[toˉtheˉmovies]] ---------[[theˉmoviesˉto]ppˉwent]vp ------------vp[wentˉ[theˉmoviesˉto]pp] ----------------------[pp[toˉtheˉmovies]ˉwent]vp -----------------------

(8a) is the English order, (8b) is the Japanese order, and these two sequences, with adjacent lexical heads (V and P), are massively preferred in all language samples over the inconsistently ordered heads in (8c) and (8d). (9) summarizes the quantitative distribution in the database of Dryer’s (1992) paper on the ‘Greenbergian correlations’ (measuring languages here rather than ‘genera’, cf. Hawkins 1994: 257): (9) a. vp[Vˉpp[PˉNP]]ˉ=ˉ161ˉ(41%) b. [[NPˉP]ppˉV]vpˉ=ˉ204ˉ(52%)

 John A. Hawkins

c. vp[Vˉ[NPˉP]pp]ˉ=ˉ18ˉ(5%) d. [pp[PˉNP]ˉV]vpˉ=ˉ6ˉ(2%) Preferredˉ(9a)+(b)ˉ=ˉ365/389ˉ(94%)

From a processing perspective, the adjacency of V and p guarantees the smallest possible string of words (indicated by the underlinings in (8)) for the recognition and construction of VP and its two immediate constituents (ICs), i.e., V and pp. Non-adjacent V and p in (9cd) require longer and less efficient strings for the parsing of phrase structure. This leads to a hypothesis (which I first formulated in Hawkins 1990): the recognition and construction of phrases and of their combinatorial relations prefers the smallest possible string of words in processing (the principle of Early Immediate Constituents, see (13) below). More generally I have argued (Hawkins 2004) that the processing of all syntactic and semantic relations prefers minimal domains. This principle is defined in (10), cf. also Gibson’s (1998, 2000) very similar principle in terms of ‘locality’. (10) Minimize Domains (mid) The human processor prefers to minimize the connected sequences of linguistic forms and their conventionally associated syntactic and semantic properties in which relations of combination and/or dependency are processed. The degree of this preference is proportional to the number of relations whose domains can be minimized in competing sequences or structures, and to the extent of the minimization difference in each domain. Combination = Two categories A and B are in a relation of combination iff they occur within the same syntactic mother phrase and maximal projections (phrasal combination), or if they occur within the same lexical co-occurrence frame (lexical combination). Dependency = Two categories A and B are in a relation of dependency iff the parsing of B requires access to A for the assignment of syntactic or semantic properties to B with respect to which B is zero-specified or ambiguously or polysemously specified.

2.1  Minimal domains in the performance of a head-initial language The preferred orders (8a) and (b) reduce the number of words needed to recognize a mother phrase M and its immediate constituent daughters (ICs), making phrasal combination faster. Compare now the following alternative orderings in post-verbal position in English, involving two PPs: (11) a. The man vp[waited pp1[for his son] pp2[in the cold but not unpleasant wind]] 1 2 3 4 5 ------------------------------



b.

An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

The man vp[waited pp2[in the cold but not unpleasant wind] pp1[for his son]] 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 ---------------------------------------------------------

The three items, V, pp1, pp2 can be recognized on the basis of five words in (11a), compared with nine in (11b), assuming as I did for (8) that (head) categories like p project to mother nodes such as pp and enable the parser to immediately construct them and recognize them on-line. For comparable benefits within a Production Model, cf. Hawkins (2004: 106). Minimize Domains predicts that Phrasal Combination Domains (PCDs) should be as short as possible. (12) PhrasalˉCombinationˉDomainˉ(pcd) TheˉpcdˉforˉaˉmotherˉnodeˉMˉandˉitsˉI(mmediate)ˉC(onstituent)sˉ consistsˉofˉtheˉsmallestˉstringˉofˉterminalˉelementsˉ(plusˉallˉMdominatedˉnon-terminalsˉoverˉtheˉterminals)ˉonˉtheˉbasisˉofˉwhichˉtheˉ processorˉcanˉconstructˉMˉandˉitsˉICs.

The degree of this preference should be proportional to the minimization difference between competing orderings. The principle of Early Immediate Constituents is a particular instance of Minimize Domains and is defined in (13): (13) EarlyˉImmediateˉConstituentsˉ(eic)ˉ[Hawkinsˉ1994: 69–83] Theˉhumanˉprocessorˉprefersˉlinearˉordersˉthat minimize PCDs (by maximizing their IC-to-word ratios), in proportion to the minimization difference between competing orders.

In concrete terms eic amounts to a preference for short before long phrases in head-initial structures, i.e., for short before long PPs in (11). These orders will have higher ‘IC-to-word ratios’: they permit more ICs to be recognized on the basis of fewer words in the terminal string. The IC-to-word ratio for the VP in (11a) is 3/5 or 60% (5 words are required for the recognition of 3 ICs). The comparable ratio for (11b) is the much lower 3/9 or 33% (9 words required for the same 3 ICs). In order to test eic’s predictions structures like (11) were selected from a corpus using a permutation test (Hawkins 2000, 2001): the two PPs had to be permutable with truth-conditional equivalence (i.e., the language producer had a choice). Only 15% (58/394) of these English sequences had long before short. Among those with at least a one-word weight difference (excluding 71 with equal weight), 82% had short before long, and there was a gradual reduction in the long before short orders, the bigger the weight difference (pps = shorter pp, ppl = longer pp): (14) nˉ=ˉ323 pplˉ>ˉppsˉbyˉ1ˉword [Vˉppsˉppl] 60%ˉ(58) [Vˉpplˉpps] 40%ˉ(38)

byˉ2–4 byˉ5–6 byˉ7+ 86%ˉ(108) 94%ˉ(31) 99%ˉ(68) 14%ˉ(17) 6%ˉ(2) 1%ˉ(1)

 John A. Hawkins

A possible explanation for this distribution can be given in terms of reduced simultaneous processing demands in working memory. If, in (11a), the same phrase structure information can be derived from a 5-word viewing window rather than 9 words, then phrase structure processing can be accomplished sooner, there will be fewer additional (phonological, morphological, syntactic and semantic) decisions that need to be made simultaneously with this one, less structural complexity to compute and fewer competing structural decisions to resolve (Lewis 1996; Vasishth 2003), and quite generally there will be fewer demands on working memory and on the computational system. (11a) is more efficient, therefore. We can hypothesize that this is why all syntactic and semantic relations prefer minimal domains for processing (Hawkins 2004). There is no appeal in this approach to some hypothesized and stipulated capacity overload in working memory (as in e.g., Frazier & Fodor 1978; Just & Carpenter 1992; Gibson 1998, 2000). Minimal domains are simply more efficient, for reasons of processing speed and reduced simultaneous processing effort. 2.2  Minimal domains for lexical combinations and complements A pcd is a domain for the processing of a syntactic relation of phrasal combination or sisterhood. Some of these sisters contract additional relations of a semantic and/or syntactic nature, of the kind that grammatical models try to capture in terms of verb-complement (rather than verb-adjunct) relations, e.g., count on your father versus play on the playground (place adjunct). Complements are listed in the lexical entry for each head, and the processing of verb-complement relations should also prefer minimal domains, by mid (11). (15) LexicalˉDomainˉ(ld) The ld for the assignment of a lexically listed property p to a lexical item L consists of the smallest possible string of terminal elements (plus their associated syntactic and semantic properties) on the basis of which the processor can assign p to L.

One practical problem here is that the complement/adjunct distinction is a multi-factor one covering different types of combinatorial and dependency relations, obligatoriness vs. optionality, etc., and is not always clear (cf. Schütze & Gibson 1999). Hawkins (2000, 2001) proposes some entailment tests as a way of identifying PPs that are lexically listed, and applies them to the data of (14). These tests are based on the notion of a ‘dependency’ between verb and preposition as defined in (10).3 .  The entailment tests used in Hawkins (2000, 2001) were as follows:



(i) Verb Entailment Test: does [V, {pp1, pp2}] entail V alone or does V have a meaning dependent on either pp1 or pp2? E.g. the man waited for his son in the early morning



An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

When there was a complement relation between V and just one of the PPs, according to these tests, 73% (151/206) had the complement pp adjacent to V, i.e., their LDs were minimal. Recall that 82% had a short pp adjacent to V preceding a longer one in (15), i.e., their PCDs were minimal. For pps that were both shorter and lexical complements, the adjacency rate to V was 96%, which was (statistically) significantly higher than for each factor alone. The more syntactic and semantic relations whose domains are minimized in a given order, the greater is the preference for that order. Multiple preferences have an additive adjacency effect when they work together, but result in exceptions to each when they pull in different directions. For example, most of the 58 long-before-short sequences in (14) involved some form of lexical combination or dependency between V and the longer pp (Hawkins 2000), i.e., these pps were complements.

3.  Verb & Object Adjacency [Pattern II] With this much background we can now turn to Pattern II in Table 2. 3.1  P  erformance data from English and Japanese support minimal domains for the processing of {V, O} and {V, X} relations Consider some corpus data involving the VOX/VXO alternation in English, i.e., with structures containing a post-verbal direct object and a pp as in (1) and (2) above. It has been observed traditionally (by e.g., Ross 1967) that the VXO departure from the basic VOX is characteristic of direct objects that are particularly ‘heavy’, giving rise to the label ‘Heavy NP Shift’, e.g., John opened with the key the door that had been closed for centuries. Hawkins (1994: 183) argued, based on the corpus data of (16) below, that it is the relative weight of the NP versus the pp, rather than the absolute size or complexity of NP, that conditions the shift and this



entails the man waited; the man counted on his son in his old age does not entail the man counted. (ii) Pro-Verb Entailment Test: can V be replaced by some general Pro-verb or does one of the pps require that particular V for its interpretation? E.g. the boy played on the playground entails the boy did something on the playground, but the boy depended on his father does not entail the boy did something on his father.

If V or p was dependent on the other by these tests, then the pp was regarded as lexically listed, i.e., dependency was used here as a sufficient condition for complementhood and lexical listing. The pps classified as independent were (mostly) adjuncts or unclear cases.

 John A. Hawkins

has since been supported in the production experiments conducted by Stallings (1998) (see also the corpus and experimental data in Wasow 2002). There are just 22/480 instances of VXO shifting (5%) in the data of (16), the incidence of which increases in the left-hand columns as the weight difference of O > X increases. English direct objects are abbreviated here as onp, and (prepositional) pps as mpp (with the head on the left constructing the ‘mother’ pp at the left edge). The [V onp mpp] basic order of English can be seen as a conventionalization of domain minimization preferences for the processing of PCDs (12) and LDs (15). Direct object NPs are significantly shorter in general than post-verbal pps, cf. §0.3.2. The same short-before-long preference evident in (14) will therefore favor onp before mpp. In addition, onps are always complements, whereas pps are more often not in a lexical relation with V, i.e., there are more VO lexical processing domains than VX domains. Direct object adjacency to V is preferred for both pcd and ld processing, therefore. (16)



oNP > mPP by

oNP = mPP

n = 480

5+

3−4

1−2

[V NPmPP]

0% (0)

43% (6) 95% (38) 100% (68)

[VˉmPPˉNP] 100% (9) 57% (8) 5% (2)

mPP > oNP by 1−2

0% (0)

3−7

8+

99% (209) 99% (103) 100% (34) 1% (2)

1% (1)

0% (0)

The preferred adjacency of V and onp can be seen overwhelmingly when mpp >onp in the right-hand columns, when weight differences are equal, and even when onp>mpp by 1–2 words. Heavy NP Shift to [V mpp onp] becomes significant only when onp>mpp by larger (3–4 and 5+) weight differences. Wasow (1997, 2002) gives further corpus data showing quite dramatically how different kinds of V-pp relations impact shifting ratios to [V pp NP] in English, in addition to weight. He distinguishes: •

•

•

‘opaque collocations’ between V and pp, defined as lexical combinations whose meanings are non-compositional and require a processing domain that includes both V and pp for their appropriate meaning assignment, e.g., take into account NP; ‘transparent collocations’, i.e., those that should be comprehensible to a speaker who knows the literal meaning of each of the words in it, but has never before encountered them in this combination, e.g., bring to someone’s attention NP; and ‘non-collocations’, i.e., compositional combinations that are not lexically listed, e.g., take to the library NP.

Shifting ratios for sample instances of these three types in his data were:





An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

opaque collocations = 60% transparent collocations = 47% non-collocations = 15%.

Wasow’s ‘collocations’ correspond to what we are calling a ‘lexical combination’ here, cf. (10). The transparency or opacity of the collocation seems to reflect whether there is an additional dependency between V and pp, as defined in (10). His data indicate that V-pp adjacency is preferred in proportion to the number of lexical combination and lexical dependency relations holding between V and pp. When one adds this finding to the clear weight effect in (16) the prediction of mid in (10) is supported: the shifting preference to [V pp NP] is proportional to the number of lexical and syntactic relations whose processing domains can be minimized. Consider now corpus data from Japanese involving the mirror-image alternation of XOV/OXV, i.e., sentence pairs such as (17a) and (b). (17) a. (Tanakaˉga) [[Hanakoˉkara]pp [sono hon o]np katta]vp that book acc bought TanakaˉNOM Hanakoˉfrom X O V ‘TanakoˉboughtˉthatˉbookˉfromˉHanako’ b. (Tanakaˉga)ˉ[[sonoˉhonˉo]npˉ[Hanakoˉkara]ppˉkatta]vp O X V

In a head-final VP like this, long before short phrases will generally provide minimal Phrasal Combination Domains, since the categories that construct mother phrases (V, P, Comp, case particles, etc.) are on the right. If the direct object is a long complement clause headed by the complementizer to, for example, as in (18), and if this complement intervenes between the subject Mary ga and the verb it-ta as it does in (18a), then the matrix pcd will proceed from the subject to the verb and will be very long. In (18b), on the other hand, the distance from the complementizer to, which constructs the complement clause, to the verb is very short. As a result the pcd for the two ICs of the VP (the complement and the verb) is short, and the pcd for the matrix clause consisting of subject and VP is short as well.4 (18) a. b.

Mary ga [[kinoo Johnˉga kekkonsi-ta to]s it-ta]vp that said,ˉi.e., Mary nom yesterday Johnˉnom married ‘MaryˉsaidˉthatˉJohnˉgotˉmarriedˉyesterday.’ [kinooˉJohnˉgaˉkekkonsi-taˉto]sˉMaryˉgaˉ[it-ta]vp

.  See Hawkins (1994: 80) in which IC-to-word ratios for (18a) and (b) are calculated, given different assumptions about the derived constituent structure for (18b).

 John A. Hawkins

By similar reasoning, a preference for (17b) is predicted in proportion to the relative weight difference between the object phrase (npo) and the head-final pp (ppm). The longer npo or ppm is predicted to precede the shorter phrase. The following Japanese data are reported in Hawkins (1994:  152) and were collected by Kaoru Horie. (19)



NPo > PPm by n = 244

5+

3−4

NPo = PPm

1−2

[PPm NP V] 21% (3) 50% (5) 62% (18) [NP PPm V] 79% (11) 50% (5) 38% (11)

PPm > NPo by 1−2

66% (60) 34% (31)

3−8

9+

80% (48) 84% (26) 100% (9) 20% (12) 16% (5) 0% (0)

There is more variability in Japanese than in English (16), but a clear mirror-image pattern is evident between them. There is a strong preference for the adjacency of V and npo in the right-hand columns when ppm > npo, and a similar adjacency preference approaching 2-to-1 when weights are equal and when npo > ppm by 1–2 words. The equal or majority preposing of npo is seen in the left-hand columns only when npo exceeds ppm by larger (3–4 and 5+) weight differences. This mirror-image shifting preference has been corroborated in the experimental and corpus studies of Yamashita & Chang (2001) and Yamashita (2002), and it underscores the eic prediction of (13): the directionality of weight effects depends on the language type. Heavy phrases shift to the right in English-type (head-initial) structures, and to the left in head-final Japanese. The resistance to npo preposing when weight differences are small in (19) matches the same resistance to postposing in English under these conditions and supports the preferred adjacency of V and NP for reasons of lexical processing: all direct objects are in a lexical relation with V, whereas most pps will not be, in both languages. 3.2  Minimal domain predictions for grammatical conventions of ordering The pgch of (7) predicts that when the kinds of performance variants exemplified by English and Japanese are conventionalized in grammatical rules of ordering, the conventions should follow the preferences of performance. I have suggested that the basic [V onp mpp] order of English does this by providing minimal domains for phrase structure and lexical processing. Post-verbal pps are significantly longer than object NPs on average, in the corpus data of Hawkins (1994): (20)

English  (Hawkinsˉ1994: 183) mppˉ>ˉonp 73% (349/480) onpˉ>ˉmpp 13% (63/480) onpˉ=ˉmpp 14% (68/480)



An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

pps are accordingly preferred to the right of NPs in performance, and this can result in a conventionalized grammatical rule of ordering positioning the category onp before mpp. There may also be a convention that positions arguments of the verb adjacent to the verb and before adjuncts. Both rules can be argued to have been conventionalized in English. Alternatively one might argue that these are simply the preferred orders one would see in English anyway, even without a grammatical convention, given the weight differences between mpp and onp, and the fact that direct objects are always arguments of the verb whereas most pps are not. Some evidence against this ‘pure performance’ account, and in favor of a grammatical convention, comes from the data in the left-hand columns of (16). The putatively basic and conventionalized order is regularly maintained in many structures in which onp is heavier than mpp, except when weight differences between them are large and lead to Heavy NP Shift. In comparable post-verbal data from other languages (such as Hungarian) in which the relative orderings are undoubtedly grammatically free (É. Kiss 1987, 2002), one finds an immediate sensitivity to weight effects and clear ordering preferences between phrases with only 1- and 2-word weight differences (Hawkins 1994: 133). The absence of such effects in English provides an interesting (performance) argument for the existence of a grammatical ordering convention, one that is retained in a set of data that would have shifted in response to weak performance preferences in languages without the convention.5 Japanese direct objects (npo) are also shorter than (postpositional) pps on average, but less consistently than in English, based on the data of Hawkins (1994: 152) at least: (21)

Japanese  (Hawkinsˉ1994: 152) ppmˉ>ˉnpo 41% (100/244) npoˉ>ˉppm 22% (53/244) npoˉ=ˉppm 37% (91/244)

The relative weights are now more evenly divided, though ppm > npo exceeds npo > ppm by almost 2-to-1. An XOV convention for Japanese is supported by the processing advantages for both phrasal combination and lexical domains, therefore, and the resistance to the OXV conversion (i.e., [npo ppm V])in the left-hand columns of (19) provides some further support for this, albeit weaker support than for the corresponding VOX convention in English.

.  See Hawkins (1994: 182) and (1998) for further discussion of the status of [V NP pp] as a grammaticalized order in English.

 John A. Hawkins

4.  Object and X on Same Side of Verb [Pattern III] So far we have considered alternations of VOX vs. VXO, and of XOV vs. OXV. In both cases O and X occur on the same side of V, conforming with pattern [III] of Table 2. There is a third OV type, OVX, with O and X on opposite sides. Object and X on the same side is significantly preferred overall, however, and I shall argue here that the principle of mid can account for this. mid also makes some predictions for the nature of X in the minority languages with OVX, which can be tested on the WALS database. Consider first some important general properties of O and X in VO and OV languages.

 ere is less structural differentiation between O and X 4.1  Th in OV languages The more equal weight distribution between O and X in Japanese (21) compared with the English (20) matches an important grammatical difference between these two languages: there is greater structural differentiation between O and X in English. Direct objects are always NPs in this language, oblique phrases are generally pps, and English like many or most VO languages has a productive class of free-standing prepositions (Hall 1992; Tsunoda et al. 1995), making pp and NP distinct phrases, with pp at least one word longer in its minimal word content since it contains p as well as NP. Japanese, by contrast, employs postposition-like case particles for its nominative, accusative and dative NPs (ga, o, and ni respectively), whose surface syntax and weight make them very similar to oblique pps like Hanako kara in (17), requiring often subtle tests to distinguish NP from pp (Kuno 1973). This relative lack of structural differentiation between O and X is characteristic of OV languages in general. Postpositions are less productive as a category in OV languages than prepositions in VO. Some OV languages have just one or two, some have none at all (Tsunoda et al. 1995). As a result oblique phrases are syntactically often NPs, just like direct objects. Case suffixes are very common in OV languages, cf. (27) below, and these cases often extend to the oblique roles translated by prepositional phrases in VO languages. Again, oblique phrases are (case-marked) NPs. And then there are the (many) OV languages like Japanese whose case markers are postpositional particles or clitics, cf. again (27). The result of all this is that there is less weight differentiation between O and X in OV languages and more processing motivation for the occurrence of alternative orders (e.g., XOV and OXV) that maximize efficiency in PCDs, depending on the weights that O and X happen to have in individual sentences. The productivity of



An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

both XOV and OXV in the grammatical ordering conventions of OV languages matches this greater performance variability. 4.2  Variable head positioning in OV lgs There is also variability in the positioning of the head within the pp or NP that constitutes X in OV languages. mid predicts that when X regularly precedes V, as in Japanese, we should see head-final XPs (xm), with p to the right of pp, and N to the right of NP. In this way the PCDs linking e.g., p and V will be minimal, as in (17b) above. But in those OV languages in which X follows V, we should see more head-initial XPs (mX) since the corresponding processing domains linking V and the head of XP will then be shorter. This prediction can be tested by searching for correlations between XOV, OXV, and OVX on the one hand, and the different head orderings within XP phrases on the other, i.e., within pps and NPs. (Recall that the XP in many OV languages will be an NP rather than a pp, given the lesser structural differentiation between NP and pp in these languages). The OVX languages should be more head-initial and have head ordering correlations more like those of VO. The figures given below refer to ‘genera’ in the WALS database (given in parentheses), not to individual languages (Dryer 1989).6 For correlations involving postpositions vs. prepositions within a pp as XP, there is a clear tendency in this direction: one third of OVX languages have either prepositions or no dominant order within pp and are transitional between the overwhelmingly postpositional XOV and OXV and the predominantly prepositional VO, as shown in (22): (22)

XOV OXV OVX VO

Postpositions 97% (32) 94% (15) 67% (14) 14% (22)

PrepositionsˉorˉNoˉdominantˉorder 3% (1) 6% (1) 33% (7) 86% (134)

There is a similar tendency in the direction of a head-initial noun before genitive order within NPs in OVX languages, as seen in (23): (23)

Genitive-Noun XOV 97% (30) OXV 89% (16) OVX 69% (18) VO 27% (45)

Noun-GenitiveˉorˉNoˉdominantˉorder 3% (1) 11% (2) 31% (8) 73% (124)

.  A genus for Dryer is a genetic grouping of languages comparable in time depth to the subfamilies of Indo-European.

 John A. Hawkins

On the other hand, the (two-thirds) majority of p and N orders remain head-final for these XPs in OVX languages, a point to which I return in § 4.3 below. For NPs consisting of a head noun plus an adjunct there is, however, striking support for head-initial ordering in OVX languages. Prenominal relative clauses, for example, are completely absent in OVX languages, in contrast to other OV languages, making OVX almost identical in its correlations to VO: (24)

Rel-Noun XOV 57% (13) OXV 36% (4) OVX 0% (0) VO 3% (3)

Noun-RelˉorˉMixed/Correlative/Adjoined 43% (10) 64% (7) 100% (17) 97% (116)

Prenominal adjectives are entirely absent as well, making OVX even more headinitial than VO languages: (25)

XOV OXV OVX VO

Adj-Noun 44% (16) 33% (6) 0% (0) 29% (51)

Noun-AdjˉorˉNoˉdominantˉorder 56% (20) 67% (12) 100% (23) 71% (122)

The evolution of a definite article out of a demonstrative determiner is correlated with VO languages and has been argued to serve an NP construction function (inter alia) in Hawkins (2004). It is significant that OVX languages have the same proportion of separate definite articles as VO, in contrast to other OV: (26)

Noˉdefiniteˉarticle XOV 83% (20) OXV 75% (6) OVX 46% (6) VO 42% (44)

defˉwordˉdistinctˉfromˉdem 17% (4) 25% (2) 54% (7) 58% (62)

The existence of case suffixes or postpositional clitics is strongly correlated with OV, whereas VO languages prefer no case affixes and either prepositional clitics or occasionally case prefixes, with some case suffixes/postpositional clitics as well. It is significant that the correlations for OVX are again quite different from other OV languages and much closer to those of VO: (27)

CaseˉsuffixesˉorˉPostposˉclitics CaseˉprefixesˉorˉPrep.ˉclitics Noˉcaseˉaffixes XOV 73% (27) 3% (1) 24% (9) OXV 88% (15) 0% (0) 12% (2) OVX 48% (10) 5% (1) 48% (10) VO 27% (42) 16% (25) 58% (91)



An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

Since these case affixes play a significant role in the on-line construction of mother and grandmother nodes (Hawkins 1994), the greater frequency of prefixes and of unaffixed heads is expected in VO languages, and is also characteristic of OVX, whereas suffixes predominate in XOV and OXV. There are clearly many more head-initial phrasal orderings in OVX languages, as predicted by MiD (10). Dryer with Gensler (2005) point to a further one: the fronting of a finite Aux to clause-initial position (S Aux OVX) is characteristic of many OVX languages throughout Africa, e.g., Supyire (Gur), Tunen (Bantu), Grebo (Kru), Ma’di (Central Sudanic).7 4.3  Object and X on the same side The data of (22)–(23) show that there is resistance to departing from head-final pps and NPs in OV languages overall, i.e., consistent head ordering is still preferred, with the departures from consistency generally favoring the OVX subtype. In VO languages head ordering consistency is also preferred. In both OV and VO languages O and X are generally preferred on the same side of V.  This pattern makes sense in terms of this head ordering consistency and can be argued to be motivated by it. Consistency in turn is motivated by MiD (10). Positioning O and X on different sides of V would require inconsistent head orderings within NP and XP in order to make processing domains optimally efficient. But in the languages in which O and X occur on opposite sides with any frequency at all (OV languages) we have seen that XP often is an NP. Hence a head ordering good for the post-verbal NP will not be good for the pre-verbal one in these languages, and vice versa, lessening its desirability. Positioning O and X on the same side of V with a head ordering consistent with that of V is also compatible with O and X occurring efficiently in any relative ordering, before V (OV languages) or after V (VO). Positioning O and X on different sides limits their efficient occurrences to one side of V only and to one relative ordering. Inconsistent head ordering and opposite positioning for O and X also has negative consequences for the formulation of grammatical conventions. It limits the generality of the principles that define phrase structure, requiring less general X-bar rules, more linearization exceptions and stipulations, as I argued in Hawkins (1983) following Jackendoff (1977). For all these interrelated reasons head ordering is generally consistent and O and X are positioned on the same side of V in the majority of languages, while there are correlations between opposite positioning and head inconsistency in the minority of languages with OVX. .  For the significance of finite verb fronting for processing, see Hawkins (1994: 381–7).

 John A. Hawkins

5.  Object before X [Pattern IV] There is also head variability in VO languages. Some, a minority, have Postpositions (cf. 22), Genitive-N (cf. 23), Rel-N (cf. 24) and Adjective-N (cf. 25), compatible with pre-verbal positioning for these phrases by mid. Yet only in the most extreme head-inconsistent languages (Chinese) do we find basic XVO orders mirroring OVX. V and O are still adjacent in Chinese [pattern I], so this dispreference could be the result of O and X not being on the same side (contrary to pattern II). But there are productive cases of O and X on different sides in OV languages (OVX), so why don’t we get the mirror image XVO productively in VO languages? I suggest that there is a second general principle that interacts with mid (10), pushing X to the right of (subject and) object complements, even in VO languages: (28) ArgumentˉPrecedenceˉ(ap) ArgumentsˉprecedeˉX

This is a linear precedence principle of language production that may have parallels in comprehension. It is supported empirically by the productivity of (S)OVX versus the rarity of the mirror-image (S)XVO, as we have seen.8 Theoretically it may be motivated by the greater frequency and accessibility of argument NPs versus the greater diversity and lesser frequency of each XP type: every clause has at least a subject argument for the relevant verb, and object arguments are more frequent for each transitive verb than any single type of XP. Arguments are also more definite and more salient and foregrounded than adjunct XPs. These kinds of frequencies and accessibility differences are associated with earlier production in a number of on-line production models (Bock 1982; Bock & Levelt 1994; Kempen & Hoenkamp 1987; MacDonald et al. 1994; Stallings et al. 1998; Levelt 1989). Earlier access to arguments before adjuncts may be motivated by their greater frequency and accessibility, therefore.9

6.  VO consistency vs. OV variability [Pattern I] I have argued that V&O adjacency [pattern II], and O and X on the same side [pattern III] are ultimately motivated by the principle of Minimize Domains (10), a principle that is visible in both production and comprehension data (Hawkins

.  Argument Precedence (28) is also supported by languages with (S)OXV orders, of course. .  But see Hawkins (1994: 229–37) for data from Japanese suggesting that given entities are not always serialized early across languages.



An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

1998, 2004). A second general principle of production, Argument Precedence (28), appears to underlie O before X [pattern IV]. It is interesting now to observe that these three patterns [II]–[IV] all converge and reinforce each other in VO languages, resulting in consistent VOX. But in OV languages they are partially opposed, and this, I suggest, is what leads to variability: more variation in performance in response to the different ordering preferences of individual sentences; more variable basic orderings in OV grammars; and fewer basic orders in OV grammars than in VO grammars. This interaction is shown in (29): (29)

VOX XVO VXO

Vˉ&ˉOˉAdjacency + + –



XOV OXV OVX

+ – +

Oˉ&ˉXˉonˉSameˉSide + – +

OˉbeforeˉX + – –

+ + –

– + +

VOX languages conform to all three patterns, the VO competitors (XVO and VXO) to at most one. The degree of preference for the former over the latter is considerable and our approach predicts that the former will be highly favored both in performance and in grammars. The OV language types, on the other hand, each conform to two patterns, as shown in (30): (30) VOX 3

>

XOV/OXV/OVX 2

>

XVO/VXO 1

The advantages for each OV type are more equal, and selections in both performance and grammars should be more equal as well. Preferences will depend on the degree of weight difference between X and O in individual sentences, and on the (argument or adjunct) status of X. There may also be a difference in the relative strength of our two general principles, Minimize Domains (10) and Argument Precedence (28), which can impact the selections in cases of competition. 7.  Conclusions The first point I wish to stress in concluding this paper is that WALS made it possible. Dryer with Gensler’s chapter identified some general patterns in cross-linguistic variation involving the relative ordering of verb, direct objects and obliques (X). The database made it possible to test for, and identify, further patterns, especially those involving the nature of X. These patterns and their interaction did not emerge clearly in earlier studies and they suggest principles of significance for any approach to

 John A. Hawkins

typology and universal grammar. In this paper they have been analyzed within the processing typology research program of Hawkins (1994, 2004). Four patterns have been proposed: (31)

Patternˉ[I] VOˉconsistencyˉvs.ˉOVˉvariability Patternˉ[II] Verbˉ&ˉObjectˉadjacency Patternˉ[III] OˉandˉXˉonˉsameˉsideˉofˉV Patternˉ[IV] OˉbeforeˉX

and two general principles: Minimize Domains (10) and Argument Precedence (28). mid motivates patterns [II] and [III] and ap motivates [IV]. The interaction between them results in the general pattern [I]. The data from (English and Japanese) performance and from grammars have supported the Performance-Grammar Correspondence Hypothesis of (7). There is a clear match between the performance data of §2 and §3.1 supporting MiD and the corresponding grammatical data of WALS. More generally we have seen support for the following predictions of the pgch: (32) Within each language type (VO and OV) the preferred orderings of O and X in performance will be in proportion to the degree of preference for each in individual sentences, according to principles such as mid (10) and ap (28). (33) Within each language type (VO and OV) basic orders of O and X will be conventionalized in proportion to the degree of preference for each order in performance.

A number of issues have been raised here that require more investigation. I hope I have shown that WALS is a highly useful research tool for theoretical as well as descriptive purposes. I also hope to have shown the value and potential of the processing typology research program in relation to it.

References Aissen, J. 1999. Markedness and subject choice in optimality theory. Natural Language & Linguistic Theory 17: 673–711. Ariel, M. 1999. Cognitive universals and linguistic conventions: The case of resumptive pronouns. Studies in Language 23: 217–269. Bock, K. 1982. Towards a cognitive psychology of syntax: Information processing contributions to sentence formulation. Psychological Review 89: 1–47. Bock, K. & Levelt, W.J.M. 1994. Language production: Grammatical encoding. In Handbook of Psycholinguistics, M.A. Gernsbacher (Ed.), Hillsdale NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Bresnan, J., Dingare, S. & Manning, C.D. 2001. Soft constraints mirror hard constraints: Voice and person in English and Lummi. In Proceedings of the LFG 01 Conference, M.  Butt & T.H. King (Eds), Stanford CA: CSLI.



An asymmetry between VO and OV languages 

Bybee, J. & Hopper, P. (Eds), 2001. Frequency and the Emergence of Linguistic Structure. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Campbell, C. & Campbell, J. 1987. Yadë grammar essentials. MS, SIL. Chomsky, N. 1965. Aspects of the Theory of Syntax. Cambridge MA: The MIT Press. Comrie, B. 1989. Language Universals and Linguistic Typology, 2nd Edn. Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press. Dryer, M.S. 1989. Large linguistic areas and language sampling. Studies in Language 13: 257–292. Dryer, M.S. 1992. The Greenbergian word order correlations. Language 68: 81–138. Dryer, M.S. 2005. Determining dominant word order. In WALS, M. Haspelmath et al. (Eds), 371. Dryer, M.S. with Gensler, O.D. 2005. Order of object, oblique, and verb. In WALS, M. Haspelmath et al. (Eds), 342–345. Frazier, L. & Fodor, J.D. 1978. The sausage machine: A new two-stage parsing model. Cognition 6: 291–326. Gibson, E. 1998. Linguistic complexity: Locality of syntactic dependencies. Cognition 68: 1–76. Gibson, E. 2000. The dependency locality theory: A distance-based theory of linguistic complexity. In Image, Language, Brain, A. Marantz, Y. Miyashita & W. ONeil (Eds), 95–126. Cambridge MA: The MIT Press. Greenberg, J.H. 1963. Some universals of grammar with particular reference to the order of meaningful elements. In Universals of Language, J.H. Greenberg (Ed.), 73–113. Cambridge MA: The MIT Press, Hall, C.J. 1992. Morphology and Mind. London: Routledge. Haspelmath, M. 1999. Optimality and diachronic adaptation. Zeitschrift für Sprachwissenschaft 18: 180–205. Haspelmath, M., Dryer, M.S., Gil, D. & Comrie, B. (Eds), 2005. The World Atlas of Language Structures (WALS). Oxford: OUP. Hawkins, J.A. 1983. Word Order Universals. New York NY: Academic Press. Hawkins, J.A. 1990. A parsing theory of word order universal. Linguistic Inquiry 21: 223–261. Hawkins, J.A. 1994. A Performance Theory of Order and Constituency. Cambridge: CUP. Hawkins, J.A. 1998. Some issues in a performance theory of word order. In Constituent Order in the Languages of Europe, A. Siewierska (Ed.), 729–781. Berlin: de Gruyter. Hawkins, J.A. 1999. Processing complexity and filler-gap dependencies. Language 75: 244–285. Hawkins, J.A. 2000. The relative order of prepositional phrases in English: Going beyond mannerplace-time. Language Variation and Change 11: 231–266. Hawkins, J.A. 2001. Why are categories adjacent? Journal of Linguistics 37: 1–34. Hawkins, J.A. 2004. Efficiency and Complexity in Grammars. Oxford: OUP. Jackendoff, R. 1977. X-bar Syntax: A Study of Phrase Structure. Cambridge MA: The MIT Press. Just, M.A. & Carpenter, P.A. 1992. A capacity theory of comprehension: Individual differences in working memory. Psychological Review 99(1): 122–149. Keenan, E.L. & Comrie, B. 1977. Noun phrase accessibility and Universal Grammar. Linguistic Inquiry 8: 63–99. Kempen, G. & Hoenkamp, E. 1987. An incremental procedural grammar for sentence formulation. Cognitive Science 11: 201–258. Kirby, S. 1999. Function, Selection and Innateness: The Emergence of Language Universals. Oxford: OUP. É. Kiss, K. 1987 Configurationality in Hungarian. Dordrecht: Reidel. É. Kiss, K. 2002. The Syntax of Hungarian. Cambridge: CUP. Kuno, S. 1973. The Structure of the Japanese Language. Cambridge MA: The MIT Press.

 John A. Hawkins Levelt, W.J.M. 1989. Speaking: From Intention to Articulation. Cambridge MA: The MIT Press. Lewis, R. 1996. Interference in short-term memory: The magical number two (or three) in sentence processing. Journal of Psycholinguistic Research 25: 93–115. Li, C.N. & Thompson, S.A. 1981. A Functional Reference Grammar of Mandarin Chinese. Berkeley CA: University of California Press. MacDonald, M.C., Pearlmutter, N.J. & Seidenberg, M.S. 1994. The lexical nature of syntactic ambiguity resolution. Psychological Review 101: 672–703. Manning, C.D. 2003. Probabilistic syntax. In Probability Theory in Linguistics, R. Bod, J. Hay & S. Jannedy (Eds), 289–341. Cambridge MA: The MIT Press, Newmeyer, F.J. 2005. Possible Languages and Probable Languages. Oxford: OUP. O’Grady, W. 2005. Syntactic Carpentry: An Emergentist Approach to Syntax. Mahwah NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Quirk, R. 1957. Relative clauses in educated spoken English. English Studies 38: 97–109. Rice, K. 1989. A Grammar of Slave. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Ross, J.R. 1967. Constraints on Variables in Syntax. Ph.D. dissertation, MIT. Schütze, C.T. & Gibson, E. 1999. Argumenthood and English prepositional phrase attachment. Journal of Memory and Language 40: 409–431. Stallings, L.M. 1998. Evaluating Heaviness: Relative Weight in the Spoken Production of Heavy-NP Shift. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Southern California. Stallings, L.M., MacDonald, M.C. & OSeaghdha, P. 1998. Phrasal ordering constraints in sentence production: Phrase length and verb disposition in Heavy-NP Shift. Journal of Memory and Language 39: 392–417. Tsunoda, T., Ueda, S. & Itoh, Y. 1995. Adpositions in word-order typology. Linguistics 33: 741–761. Vasishth, S. 2003. Working Memory in Sentence Comprehension: Processing Hindi Center Embeddings. London: Routledge. Wasow, T. 1997. Remarks on grammatical weight. Language Variation and Change 9: 81–105. Wasow, T. 2002. Postverbal Behavior. Stanford CA: CSLI. Wivell, R. 1981. Kairiru grammar. MA thesis, University of Aukland. Yamashita, H. 2002. Scrambled sentences in Japanese: Linguistic properties and motivation for production. Text 22: 597–633. Yamashita, H. & Chang, F. 2001. ‘Long before short’ preference in the production of a head-final language. Cognition 81: B45–B55.

On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations Balthasar Bickel

University of Leipzig Split alignment in case-marking has often been hypothesized to be affected by the referential hierarchy in that higher-ranking arguments are more likely to be accusatively aligned while lower-ranking arguments are more likely to be ergatively aligned. A survey of typological databases suggests that while there are only very few counterexamples to the hypothesis, the total number of relevant cases is so small as to provide only marginal statistical evidence. In split alignment in agreement morphology and in structures like relativization, the statistical evidence is nil. The only domains where hierarchy effects seem to be common is (a) where they affect optional case-marking in discourse and (b) where they directly define grammatical relations, independently of alignment patterns, such as in hierarchical agreement.

1.  Introduction In the late seventies, Bernard Comrie was one of the first linguists to explore the effects of the referential hierarchy (RH) on the distribution of grammatical relations (GRs). The referential hierarchy is also known in the literature as the animacy, empathy or indexibability hierarchy and ranks speech act participants (i.e., first and second person) above third persons, animates above inanimates, or more topical referents above less topical referents. Depending on the language, the hierarchy is sometimes extended by analogy to rankings of possessors above possessees, singulars above plurals, or other notions. In his 1981 textbook, Comrie analyzed RH effects as explaining (a) differential case (or adposition) marking of transitive subject (‘A’) noun phrases in low RH positions (e.g., inanimate or third person) and of object (‘P’) noun phrases in high RH positions (e.g., animate or first or second person), and (b) hierarchical verb agreement coupled with the marking of a transitive scenario as being ‘direct’ vs. ‘inverse’, as in Algonquian (Comrie 1981: Chapter 6). The relevant effects are captured by what I call here the Marking-based RH Hypothesis: (1) TheˉMarking-basedˉRHˉHypothesis:ˉ a. ForˉAˉarguments,ˉtheˉoddsˉforˉzeroˉcase-markingˉcorrelateˉpositivelyˉ withˉtheˉrankˉofˉtheˉargumentˉonˉtheˉreferentialˉhierarchy.

 Balthasar Bickel

b. Forˉpˉarguments,ˉtheˉoddsˉforˉzeroˉcase-markingˉcorrelateˉnegativelyˉ withˉtheˉrankˉofˉtheˉargumentˉonˉtheˉreferentialˉhierarchy. c. For transitive direction marking, the odds for zero direction-marking are higher for argument scenarios where A ranks higher than p (‘direct’ scenarios) than for scenarios where p ranks higher than A (‘inverse’ scenarios).

Because nominatives and absolutives tend to have zero exponence, the most common case systems that are consonant with the hypothesis are those that reserve accusative or neutral aligment for upper and ergative or neutral alignment for lower segments of the referential hierarchy. In such systems, high-ranking A arguments receive the same zero-marking as S (intransitive subject) arguments, whereas low-ranking A arguments are assigned an overt marker (‘ergative’); highranking p arguments receive an overt marker (‘accusative’) while low-ranking p arguments receive the same zero-marking as S. The link with alignment typology motivates a more general approach, where the referential hierarchy is expected to determine whether GRs are aligned ergatively or accusatively regardless of whether the alignment manifests itself in case or any other construction, such as verb agreement or word order, and regardless of the concrete morphological exponence pattern (zero vs nonzero marking). This generalization, first proposed explicitly by Silverstein (1976: 112f), is captured by what I call here the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis: (2) TheˉAlignment-basedˉRHˉHypothesis:ˉ a. Forˉaˉgivenˉgrammaticalˉrelationˉinˉanyˉkindˉofˉconstruction,ˉtheˉ oddsˉforˉaccusativeˉalignmentˉcorrelateˉpositivelyˉwithˉtheˉrankˉ ofˉtheˉargumentˉinˉthatˉrelationˉonˉtheˉreferentialˉhierarchy. b. Forˉaˉgivenˉgrammaticalˉrelationˉinˉanyˉkindˉofˉconstruction,ˉtheˉ oddsˉforˉergativeˉalignmentˉcorrelateˉnegativelyˉwithˉtheˉrankˉofˉ theˉargumentˉinˉthatˉrelationˉonˉtheˉreferentialˉhierarchy.

It is possible to collapse (2a) and (2b) into a single hypothesis about the relative distribution of accusative and ergative alignment. (2ʹ) AlternativeˉversionˉofˉtheˉAlignment-basedˉRGˉHypothesis:ˉ Forˉaˉgivenˉgrammaticalˉrelationˉinˉanyˉkindˉofˉconstruction,ˉtheˉ distributionˉofˉaccusativeˉandˉergativeˉalignmentsˉtendsˉtoˉfollowˉtheˉ referentialˉhierarchyˉinˉsuchˉaˉwayˉthatˉaccusativeˉalignmentˉisˉfoundˉ onˉhigherˉandˉergativeˉalignmentˉonˉlowerˉsegmentsˉofˉtheˉhierarchy.

Thisˉreformulationˉexcludesˉasˉirrelevantˉdataˉfromˉlanguagesˉthatˉcontrastˉergativeˉorˉaccusativeˉwithˉneutralˉalignment. In this chapter I submit these two hypotheses and their versions to empirical testing against typological data. I first test two predictions from the Alignment-based



On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations 

RH Hypothesis: the prediction that the distribution of alignment patterns in verb agreement reflects the referential hierarchy (Section 2), and the prediction that the referential hierarchy determines case alignment regardless of actual marking patterns (Section 3). I show that the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis fails with regard to verb agreement, and that it has no better support than the Marking-based RH Hypothesis with regard to case-marking. However, unlike the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis, the Marking-based RH Hypothesis makes no predictions on other grammatical relations than those identified by case or inverse marking, and in Section 4 I discuss possible alternative accounts that may capture the full range of RH impacts on grammatical relations. Section 5 summarizes the results.

2.  The referential hierarchy and verb agreement According to the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis, the referential hierarchy is expected to determine alignment patterns in any kind of grammatical relation. I test this prediction on data from verb agreement. The hypothesis predicts that if agreement morphology shows an alignment split, accusative alignment is expected to be limited to higher RH positions and ergative alignment is expected to be limited to lower RH positions. The prediction is borne out by splits with or without neutral alignments, i.e., it extends to splits split with accusative alignment on higher positions and neutral alignment on lower positions; or with ergative alignment on lower positions and neutral alignment on higher positions. However, under the alternative version of the Alignment Hypothesis in (2ʹ), such splits involving neutral alignment are irrelevant. The predictions under both versions are spelled out in Table 1. Table 1.  Predictions of the Alignment Hypothesis In line with prediction low

Against prediction

RH rank

high

high

low

Alignment Hypothesis

accusative or ergative or ergative or neutral accusative or neutral alignment neutral alignment alignment neutral alignment

Alternative version of Alignment Hypothesis

accusative alignment

ergative alignment ergative alignment accusative alignment

In order to test these predictions, I searched Bakker & Siewierska’s (2006) verb agreement database (N = 402) for languages coded as having any kind of

 Balthasar Bickel

RH-sensitive alignment splits, excluding cliticized pronouns (which are expected to behave like pronouns).1 Table 2 summarizes the results. Table 2.  Verb agreement with RH-sensitive alignment splits in Bakker & Siewierska (2006) Language

Split, as coded in the database

Stock

Location

Ainu Chácobo

1s,2 accusative; 1p tripartite 1s,2s,3s,1p tripartite; 2p,3p accusative; 1,2 accusative; 3s tripartite 1,2 accusative; 3 tripartite 1,2,3p accusative; 3s,3d ergative 1s tripartite; 2s,p accusative; 3 neutral (zero) 1,2 tripartite; 3 ergative 1,2 accusative; 3 neutral (zero) 1,2 accusative; 3 ergative 1,2 accusative; 3 ergative 1,2 accusative; 3 neutral 1,2 accusative; 3 ergative

(isolate) Panoan

E. Eurasia S. America

Salish Uralic Arauan (isolate)

N. America Eurasia S. America N. America

Lower Sepik Yuman Iwaidjan Plateau Penutian Totonac-Tepehuan (isolate)

Papua New Guinea N. America Australia N. America C. America N. America

Comox Kamass Paumarí Seri Yimas ? Maricopa ? Maung ? Nez Perce ? Tepehua ? Washo

The Alignment Hypothesis only makes predictions about the location of accusative and ergative alignments on the hierarchy. Tripartite alignments, where S, A, and p are all treated differently, share properties of both alignments: there is a distinct form for A as in ergative alignment, and there is a distinct form for p as in accusative alignment. This excludes Ainu, Chácobo, Comox, Kamass, and Yimas from the testing ground of the hypothesis. One of the remaining languages, Paumarí, distributes alignment types on non-contiguous segments of the hierarchy (third person plural, but not third person singular or dual, pattern with first and second person). Under one reading of the Alignment Hypothesis, this runs counter the prediction. A more friendly reading of the hypothesis, however, restricts the predictions to languages with ‘clean’ splits, assuming that non-contiguous splits are due to other factors of paradigm development. I follow this reasoning here and exlude languages like Paumarí from the testing ground. What is left, then,

.  I am grateful to Dik Bakker who helped me perform the search in early August 2006. The database is available online via the Typological Database System at http://languagelink.let.uu.nl/ tds/. Languages retrieved by the search but excluded from Table 1 because they involve clitics are Ngiyambaa, Yukulta, Warao, and Nadeb. My criterion for clitic status was (a) a phonological structure reflecting simple reduction of full pronouns, with near-identity in segments, and (b) a ban on coocurrence of clitics with coreferential argument NPs in the same clause. Note that from the raw search results I also excluded cases with missing values in the relevant alignment variable, i.e., I did not expand the database. But see the discussion below for possible additions.



On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations 

are six languages (Seri, Maung, Nez Perce, Washo, Tepehua, and Maricopa). All of these show accusative alignment on higher and ergative alignment on lower ranks of the RH, and this at first sight supports the Alignment Hypothesis. However, the support is very weak for but one case (Seri), indicated in Table 1 by question marks. For Maung, Curnow (1999) has offered an alternative analysis that does not involve any alignment pattern in the system, and his analysis has better data coverage. Four other languages in Table 1 are marked by ‘?’ because they contain traces of contradictory evidence: Nez Perce has plural prefixes (pe‘1/2/3pS/A’ and nees- ‘1/2/3pP’) which align accusatively and are also used with third person arguments; in addition there is a prefix é - dedicated to third person singular p arguments (Crook 1999). Both these facts suggest that the third person shows at least some traces of accusative alignment, in conflict with the prediction. Similarly, in Washo, there is an intransitive third person marker ʔ- ‘3S’, which also covers 3>1 (though not 3>2 and 3>3) scenarios (Jacobsen 1964). This again represents a minor pattern of accusative for third persons in conflict with the prediction. Tepehua, too, has traces of accusative alignment in the third person: while third person singular has neutral alignment as a result of zero marking, plural arguments trigger ta- when in S or A function and lak- when in p function (Watters 1988). In Maricopa, the evidence for accusative alignment in the agreement morphology rests on the first person prefix ʔ- which occurs in both intransitive and 1>3 transitive forms. However, the same prefix also occurs in 2>1 scenarios, where it marks a p argument – in fact it even disambiguates the role of another first person marker (ny-) which is role-neutral: in ʔ-ny-m-aham-m [1-1-2-hit-REAL] ‘you hit me’, ʔsignals that ny- ‘1’ is in p role. Without the prefix, ny- covers both A and p roles, as in ny-aham-m [1-hit-REAL] ‘I hit you’ or ‘he hit me’. Second person is marked by a role-neutral prefix and third person is zero-marked in all roles (Gordon 1986).2 If the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis is a genuine universal of human language, we expect it to have strong and frequent effects on the way alignment is split in verb agreement. The present findings, however, suggest that only one single language (Seri) supports the hypothesis in (2) – and this only insofar as accusative alignment for first person plural and second person (singular and plural) is opposed to zero-marked agreement for third persons in any role. The zero exponence could also be analyzed as mere absence of agreement, and this would further weaken the relevance of Seri for the hypothesis. Note that under the alternative version of the

.  There is another second person prefix, k-, which covers only S and A. However, this is not an RH effect but results from the fact that k- is limited to imperative forms, and that in Maricopa, just like in most other languages, imperatives follow a near-universal principle of accusative alignment (see Dixon 1979; Comrie 1981, among others).

 Balthasar Bickel

Alignment Hypothesis in (2ʹ), the Seri pattern would immediately fall outside the predictive scope of the hypothesis, regardless of how one analyzes zero agreement. In return and in support of the Alignment Hypothesis, however, one could add Chinook, one of the languages on which Silverstein based the formulation of the hypothesis in the first place. Further research might detect a couple of more cases, or remove a couple of question marks in Table 2, or both. But in any of these events, half a dozen languages out of 400 is a very narrow testing ground for genuine universals, and not much can be inferred from such a small number. Despite this small number, one could still note that Table 2 contains no straightforward counterexample to Silverstein’s predictions – i.e., there is no language with ergative alignment on higher and accusative or neutral alignment on lower RH positions. Yet this may just as well be chance:3 even if there were seven languages supporting the prediction (including those with question marks and also Chinook), and none contradicting it, such a score (7:0) only reaches a .015 probability level on a χ2-based one-sample randomization test (Janssen et al. 2006), i.e., there is only weak evidence to reject the null hypothesis of a chance distribution. The actually attested score of relatively clear cases (2:0) is not significant at all. And if one were to discover only one clear counterexample, i.e., a language that distributes ergative and accusative alignment in a way exactly opposite to Seri or Chinook, the evidence for rejecting the null hypothesis of chance distribution would dissipate even under the best-case scenario for the hypothesis, where all question marks in Table 1 were proved wrong, or one were to discover an equal number of other languages in line with the hypothesis (a 7:1 score, with an associated p-level of .077). In fact, field research over the past few years has unearthed robust counterexamples. These counterexamples come from the Kiranti branch of Sino-Tibetan (Bickel 2000; Siewierska 2004). The basic pattern found in a number of languages of this family is shown in Table 3. Merged cells in the table mean that the cells are covered by the same form, e.g., the same form covers the cells for A, S, and p in the second

Table 3.  Split ergativity in Kiranti A

S

1 singular 1 nonsingular 2 3

.  cf. Cysouw 2002 on the problematic nature of zeros as evidence for universals.

P



On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations 

person. Grey-shading identifies cell mergers following an ergative or accusative pattern. Dashed lines indicates variation between languages. Here, the first person, or at least the first person singular, aligns ergatively, the second person is coded neutrally, and the third person aligns accusatively – i.e., the exact opposite of what is expected from the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis. Table 4.  Split ergativity in Puma A 1s

S

P

-ŋ (>3)

-ŋ a (NPST) -o ŋ (PST)

-na (>2) -ci~cʌ b

1da ni- -ci~cʌ (>2) 1pa

-m (>3)

-i~ni(n)~nʌ

ni- -i~ni (n)~nʌ (>2) tʌ -

2s

-na (1s>) tʌ- -ci~c

2d

-na-ci (1s>) tʌ - -i~ni(n)~nʌ

2p tʌ - -m (>3) ø-

3s

-u~-i

pʌ - (>1) pʌ - -ci~cʌ

3d ni-pʌ - -ci~c ʌ (>1) ni- -ci~cʌ (>2)

mʌ -

3p pʌ- (>3s)

-ci

ni-pʌ - (>1s) ni-pʌ -i~ni (n)~nʌ (>1ns) ni- -i~ni (n)~nʌ (>2) 1.All first person nonsingular forms distinguish exclusive vs. inclusive forms, marked by -ka, but ommitted here since this does not affect alignment. 2.For the conditions regulating allomorphies (marked here by a tilde), see Bickel et al. (2007b).

 Balthasar Bickel

Table 4 exemplifies the pattern in Puma, a language of the Southern subgroup of Central Kiranti (Bickel, Gaenszle et al. 2007). The Puma verb agrees with S, and in transitives, with both A and p arguments. While many person-marking affix strings are specialized for specific scenarios defined by both A and p roles (represented as ‘>’ in Table 4), there is a consistent pattern of ergative alignment in the first person singular and plural. This pattern is identified by dark grey shading in the table. Further down the referential hierarchy, and with first person dual arguments, we find neutral (no shading) or accusative alignment (light grey shading). To be sure, in most of these cases there are also some counterexamples, but they all involve specific markers selected by global argument marking rules in the sense of Silverstein 1976 (a typical feature of Kiranti morphology in general: see Bickel 1995; Bickel, Banjade et al. 2007). For example, there is dedicated A-marking for third person singular arguments (pʌ-), but it is limited to forms with concomitant first person P-arguments. The more general pattern aligns A with S marking in the third person. The forms in (3) and (4) illustrate the contrast between first and third person alignment with past indicative forms of the intransitive verb puks- ‘to go’ and the transitive verb pukɖ- ‘to take’; the relevant affixes are underlined:4 (3) a. 1sS puks-oŋ go-1ss/p.pst ‘Iˉwent.’ b. 1sP pʌ-pukɖ-oŋ 3s/a-take-1ss/p.pst ‘S/heˉtookˉme.’ c. 1sP tʌ-pukɖ-oŋ 2-take-1ss/p.pst ‘Youˉtookˉme.’ d. 1sA pukɖ-u-ŋ take-3sp-1sa ‘Iˉtookˉhim/her.’ e. 1sA puk-na-a take-1>2-pst ‘Iˉtookˉyou.’ (4) a. 3sS Ø-puks-a 3ss/a-go-pst ‘S/heˉwent.’

.  Complete Puma paradigms can be inspected at the DOBES archive (http://www.mpi.nl/ DOBES) by searching for sessions of genre ‘paradigm’ with content ‘verb’.



On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations 

b. 3sP Ø-pukɖ-i 3ss/a-take-3sp ‘S/heˉtookˉhim/her.’ c. 3sP tʌ-pukɖ-i 2-go-3sp ‘Youˉtookˉhim/her.’ d. 3sP pukɖ-u-ŋ took-3sp-1sa ‘Iˉtookˉhim/her’. e. 3sA Ø-pukɖ-i 3ss/a-take-3sp ‘S/heˉtookˉhim/her.’ f. 3sA Ø-tʌ-pukɖ-a 3ss/a-2-take-pst ‘S/heˉtookˉyou.’ g. 3sA pʌ-pukɖ-oŋ 3s/a-take-1ss/p.pst ‘S/heˉtookˉme.’

As can be seen when comparing (3a) with (3b–c), the first person is coded by the same suffix -oŋ in both S and p functions. When in A function, the first person is marked differently: by -ŋ when the p is third person (3d) and as part of the portmanteau morpheme -na when the p is second person (3e). In contrast to this, third person shows accusatively-aligned agreement: whereas in S function, third person singular has zero exponence (4a), in p function it is marked by –i (4b-c) or its pre-nasal allomorph -u (4d). In A function, third person singular is coded like S, i.e., by zero, when the p argument is third or second person (4e–f). If the p argument is first person, as in (4g), a third person A argument is coded (as noted above) by the prefix pʌ-, which at first sight suggests a tripartite pattern (Ø for S, -i for P, and pʌ- for A), but a closer look at the paradigm shows that the overall distribution of pʌ- follows again an accusative pattern: the prefix also marks third person S in the dual, though not in the singular and the plural. This is evidenced by the following data: (5) a. Ø-puks-a. 3ss/a-go-pst ‘S/heˉwent.’ b. pʌ-puks-a-ci. 3s/a-go-pst-d ‘Theyˉ(two)ˉwent.’

 Balthasar Bickel

c. mʌ-puks-a. 3ps/a-go-pst ‘Theyˉ(threeˉorˉmore)ˉwent.’

This pattern of a ‘reverse ergativity split’ is frequent in Kiranti languages, with a higher concentration in the Central and Eastern branches (which are likely to form a unified taxon at some very early level) than in the Western branch of the family. Table 5 shows the distribution of reverse splits according to genealogical subgroups established by regular sound change (based on work by van Driem 1990, 2001; Michailovsky 1994; Opgenort 2004a, 2004b, and my own ongoing research). Table 5.  Reverse ergativity splits in Kiranti verb agreement

Branch Eastern

Central

Western

With reverse ergativity split (at least in part) Athpare (Ebert 1991, 1997) Limbu (van Driem 1987; Michailovsky 1997, 2001) Mewahang (M. Gaenszle p.c.) Lohorung (van Driem 1992) Chintang (Bickel et al. 2007a) Yamphu (Rutgers 1998) Puma (Bickel et al. 2007b) Bantawa (Rai 1984; Ebert 1994) Kulung (Tolsma 1999) Hayu (Michailovsky 1988) Khaling (Toba 1988; Ebert 1994) Bahingb (van Driem 1991)

Without ergative alignment (i.e., with first person showing tripartite, accusative or neutral alignment) Belhare (Bickel 2003)

Camling (Ebert 1991, 1994)

Wambulea (Opgenort 2004a) Thulung (Allen 1975; Lahaussois 2003) Jero (Opgenort 2005) Dumi (van Driem 1993)

a

Wambule (Opgenort 2004a) has -ki ‘1ns’ covering both S and P, but it denotes inclusive in S and exclusive in P function. There are no other traces of ergative alignment in the paradigm. b In Bahing (van Driem 1991), alignment is also split on tense: first person shows S=A alignment in the nonpast and S=P aligment in the past. In this language, S=P alignment also extends to the second person (singular in the nonpast; all numbers in the past), but again not to third person, which has a thorough S=A alignment. An extension to second person is also found in Kulung.

On one possible count, the table provides twelve cases of a reverse split. Earlier we found that there are no more than two cases of a RH-predicted split. This distribution would suggest a trend in the opposite direction from what is predicted by the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis, or, more likely, that plain chance is at work. However, it is possible, perhaps indeed likely, that the twelve languages share a reverse split because they inherited it from Proto-Kiranti: although only about two



On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations 

thirds of the entire family is at present sufficiently documented and represented in Table 5, reverse splits appear to be the default pattern, and some exceptions demonstrably represent innovations (e.g., in Belhare, where first person p markers are recent developments of generic nouns, cf. Ebert 1991; Bickel & Gaenszle 2005). But even under this scenario, the Kiranti facts speak against a universal principle disfavoring reverse splits (the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis): even if Kiranti counts only as a single genealogically independent case, the total score (two cases following the hypothesis, one contradicting it) would not suggest any significant trend. But the absence of statistical evidence can never demonstrate the absence of an underlying principle, especially if the sample size is so extremely small as it is here. Stronger evidence against the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis comes from the following: the Kiranti family is a fairly heterogeneous group of about 30 languages, and even on the most conservative estimate, the family is at least as old as Germanic. Therefore, if it is inherited, the reverse split pattern would need to have been diachronically stable to a degree that is unexpected if there was a strong universal principle acting against it – at each generation, for a few thousand years. Now, the survival of patterns that are otherwise disfavored by universal principles are sometimes strengthened by areal connections (Nichols 2003). But this is an unlikely scenario in the Kiranti context. First, the distribution of reverse ergative splits is not geographically contiguous: the reverse-split languages Bahing and Hayu, for example, are completely surrounded by languages lacking the pattern (Jero, Wambule, Dumi, Camling, Thulung, and Nepali, the Indo-Aryan lingua franca of the region).5 Second, the distribution of ergativity splits cross-cuts the few sociological units that could arguably bring about some areal integration or at least sufficiently intensified language contact: one such unit that is well-established ethnographically by intermarriage patterns, a shared mythology and a traditional ethnonym (Rāī; cf. Gaenszle 1991: Chapter 3.2; Gaenszle in press) contains both languages with reverse splits (e.g., Puma) and languages without (e.g., Camling); and some languages with splits are part of the unit (e.g., Puma), while others are not (e.g., Limbu). Whether the Kiranti pattern consists of several independent cases of parallel innovations, or whether it represents a single but diachronically stable case (or a combination of these two possibilities), it undermines the evidence for a universal principle in verb agreement that would favor ergative alignment in the lower and accusative alignment in the upper parts of the referential hierarchy. And, as we

.  As Mickey Noonan reminds me, the distribution could of course have been very different in the past, when the split developed. But we have no independent evidence on this.

 Balthasar Bickel

have seen before, there is no good statistical evidence for such a principle on a world-wide scale.

3.  The referential hierarchy and case marking There is no empirical support for the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis because it already fails in one central domain outside case, viz. split alignment in verb agreement. But what is the empirical support in the domain of case marking? For those languages where nominatives or absolutives are zero-marked, the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis makes the same predictions as the Marking-based RH Hypothesis. For these cases of zero-marking we expect higher-ranking arguments to favor accusative and lower-ranking arguments to favor ergative alignment because such an alignment distribution ensures that higher-ranking As and lower-ranking Ps are zero-marked (being assigned ‘unmarked’ nominatives and absolutives, respectively), while lower-ranking As and higher-ranking Ps are marked by special case morphology (ergative and accusative or dative, respectively). But for languages with alignment splits and nonzero (‘marked’) nominatives or absolutives, the two hypotheses make opposite predictions: under the Alignment-based Hypothesis, a nonzero nominative behaves like a zero-marked nominative, and so we expect it to be favored by high-ranking arguments; the Marking-based Hypothesis, by contrast, predicts that the nonzero nominative is favored by lower-ranking A arguments. With regard to nonzero absolutives, the Alignment-based Hypothesis predicts that the absolutive is favored by low-ranking arguments; the Markingbased Hypothesis predicts that it is favored by high-ranking p arguments. Table 6 shows the predictions in detail. There is no large-scale survey available that allows extensive testing of any of these hypotheses. What is possible to test, however, is one special effect on pronouns and nouns that is predicted by the hypothesis (Comrie 2005). First and second person pronouns always rank higher on the RH than lexical nouns (barring perhaps some lexical honorifics), and it is likely that also third person pronouns more often rank higher than lexical nouns. In Comrie’s (2005) sample of 172 languages there are 20 languages in line with the Marking-based Hypothesis, and 2 in conflict with it (the Cushitic language Iraqw, where accusative alignment is limited to nouns, and pronouns are neutral; and the Austronesian language Chamorro, where ergative alignment is limited to pronouns, and nouns are neutral). The only language in the database with an alignment split and a nonzero nominative or absolutive is Middle Atlas Berber (Afroasiatic), and in this language, a nonzero nominative in accusative alignment is limited to lexical nouns; pronouns have no case-marking. This violates the prediction of the Alignment-based Hypothesis, but it is a single



On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations 

Table 6.  Comparing predictions5 In line with prediction

Against prediction

RH rank

high

low

high

low

Markingbased Hypothesis

non-zero accusative and zero nominative; or non-zero absolutive and zero ergative; or zero neutral

non-zero ergative and zero absolutive; or non-zero nominative and zero accusative; or neutral

ergative and zero absolutive; or nonzero nominative and zero accusative; or zero neutral

accusative and zero nominative; or non-zero absolutive and zero ergative; or neutral

ergative or neutral alignment

accusative or neutral alignment

Alignment- accusative or ergative based neutral alignment or neutral Hypothesis alignment

1. For consistency, I use the terminology of alignment typology also for the absence of overt case-marking, called here ‘zero neutral’. If both pronouns and nouns are zero-marked, the predictions are vacuous.

instance, and nothing universal can be inferred from it. There are a few further languages with a differential use of a nonzero S/A case marker, but in the instances I am aware of, the distribution is at least in part governed by focus structure (e.g., in the Papuan languages Fore or Kâte, cf. Donohue & Donohue 1997; Suter 2006; respectively), and this requires nonzero marking on an argument regardless of what one would expect from its position on the referential hierarchy. The 20:2 score for languages with zero-marked nominatives and absolutives allows slightly more inference to universal trends, but it still falls short of the sample size required to postulate robust universals. The score itself is unlikely to be due to chance but it is possible – indeed likely – that other factors than the RH also affect the distribution of case markers on nouns and pronouns: for example, Comrie (2005) notes that 4 of the supporting languages (i.e., 20%) are from Australia, and we cannot exclude therefore areal (or genealogical) confounding factors. Also specific etymologies and paradigm structures are often demonstrably relevant for the distribution on case markers. For example, if an ergative develops from an instrumental, a limitation of the ergative to low-ranking As is to be expected just because animate nouns may never have had an instrumental form to begin with (Garrett 1990). Specific etymologies can also work against the prediction from the RH: for example, an ergative system might survive in pronouns, which often are generally more conservative morphologically, while lexical NPs loose case or develop new accusative marking, and this might result in a distribution that reverses what is predicted by the RH – such as happened in a number of Dardic and other Indo-Aryan languages (Filimonova 2005). Thus, when limited to the special case of pronouns vs. nouns, the Markingbased RH Hypothesis receives some, albeit not very strong quantitative support,

 Balthasar Bickel

and we cannot rule out that such factors as areal influence, genealogical stability and individual etymologies might in the end account for the distributional findings equally well or better. But the Marking-based RH Hypothesis reaches far beyond this special case of pronoun vs. noun declension, and there is a rich literature on differential subject and object marking demonstrating that in many languages from many different parts of the world, the referential hierarchy is directly responsible for the distribution of case markers in discourse: there are many languages like Nepali (Indo-Aryan), where the odds for overt ergative case-marking have a distributional peak for A arguments that are nontopical, nonspecific, or inanimate, and the odds for dative case have a distributional peak for p arguments that are definite, specific and animate (Pokharel 2054; Bickel in press).

4.  Beyond case marking The preceding two sections suggest that overall the Marking-based RH Hypothesis has better empirical support than the Alignment-based RH Hypothesis. A likely reason for this is that the Marking-based Hypothesis can be reduced to standard Zipfian effects: we know from discourse studies that A arguments are more frequently topical, i.e., filled by referents higher on the hierarchy, while p arguments are more frequently NPs with referents lower on the hierarchy, especially with rhematic and new referents (see, e.g., DuBois et al. 2003 or Jäger 2007 for statistical evidence of this in various languages). As per Zipf ’s Law, more frequent patterns generally tend to be less overtly marked and therefore, higher-ranking As and lower-ranking Ps are more likely to be zero-marked than lower-ranking As and higher-ranking Ps. However, once the Marking-based Hypothesis is reduced to standard Zipfian effects, there is no inherent reason that it should be limited to case marking, and so one would expect its scope to extend to other kinds of grammatical relations. For example, one would expect a universal trend for nonzero agreement morphology to be split in such a way that A-agreement is limited to inanimate or third person arguments; or P-agreement to animate, or first and second person arguments. This prediction is explored by Siewierska (2004), who finds equivocal evidence. There is a substantial number of languages where p agreement is limited to animate or human referents (e.g., in the Papuan language Hua: Haiman 1980), or where it is favored by such referents (e.g., Swahili: Seidl & Dimitriadis 1997, among others). But Siewierska (2004:  150) also identifies quite a few languages with the opposite pattern, where verbs show P-agreement only with third persons but not with speech act participants, so that a full assessment of the prediction must await fur-



On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations 

ther statistical testing with careful control for genealogical and areal confounding factors. The same is true for the prediction on A-agreement. Although there are languages like English where nonzero agreement is limited to third person A (and S) arguments, there is also a substantial – and probably much larger – number of language where A-agreement is limited to or favored by positions higher up on the referential hierarchy (e.g., Kiowa: Watkins & McKenzie 1984; Zúñiga 2006). A-agreement limited to higher RH positions contradicts the expectations from the Marking-based RH Hypothesis. However, this kind of agreement rule is likely to reflect a competing universal trend: a general trend for reserving grammatical relations, such as those that trigger agreement, to the topmost segments of the referential hierarchy. I call this the GR-based RH Hypothesis: (6) GR-based RH Hypothesis If grammatical relations (of any construction, with any alignment) have restricted access based on the referential hierarchy, the odds for this access correlate positively with the rank of an argument on the referential hierarchy.

The hypothesis follows from grammaticalization theory: under this theory, grammatical relations are taken to represent grammaticalized topicality assignments, and since higher positions in the referential hierarchies are intrinsically more likely to be topical, they will have better access to grammatical relations than lower positions (Givón 2001). Although again full statistical testing must await better surveying, the GRbased Hypothesis has independent support from the many languages with strictly hierarchical agreement, i.e., where access to the agreement-triggering GR is based on the position of an argument on the referential hierarchy rather than its semantic role (see DeLancey 1981; Ebert 1987; Siewierska 2004; Zúñiga 2006; among others). One example is the Tibeto-Burman language Gyarong (lCog-rtse rGyalroṅ): when a speech act participant (i.e., a high-ranking referent) co-occurs with a third person (i.e., a lower ranking referent), the speech act participant triggers agreement, no matter what its role is. Thus, both ‘I give him’ and ‘he gives me’ trigger first person agreement (-ŋ), resulting in wuŋ and wuwuŋ, respectively. The meanings are differentiated by an inverse-marking prefix wu- (Nagano 1984, 2003; Bickel 1995). Beyond agreement, the evidence for the GR-based Hypothesis is uncertain. With regard to relative constructions, for example, there are both languages where the relativizable GR favors higher-ranking arguments and languages where the same GR favors lower-ranking arguments. Available survey work does not yet allow an assessment of what, if anything, is more common. An example of a GR preference to high-ranking arguments is Tagalog, where only ang-NPs, which are topical and/or specific, can be the target of relativization

 Balthasar Bickel

(Schachter 1976; Kroeger 1993). The role of the ang-NP is signaled by the verb morphology as, e.g., A (marked by the infix -um-) or p (unmarked): (7) a. ang=lalaki=ngˉb〈um〉asa ng=diyaryo nom=man=attr〈A〉read obl=newspaper ‘theˉmanˉwhoˉreadˉaˉnewspaper.’ b. ang=diyaryo=ng b〈in〉asa ng=lalaki nom=newspaper=attr [p-]〈pfv〉read obl=man ‘theˉnewspaperˉthatˉtheˉmanˉread’ c. *ang=lalaki=ng b〈in〉asa ang=diyaryo nom=man=attr [p-]〈pfv〉read nom=newspaper

Intended:ˉˉ‘theˉmanˉwhoˉreadˉaˉnewspaper.’

Relativization on an A argument necessitates the A voice, as in (7a), because this ensures that the A argument is in the relativizable ang-function. Relativization on P, by contrast, requires the p voice, as in (7b), so as to ensure that now the p argument is in the ang-function. (7c) is ungrammatical because the relativized argument (‘the man’) is not in ang-function. The opposite pattern is found in Movima, an isolate of Bolivia (Haude 2006) where only lower-ranking arguments in transitive clauses can be targets of relativization. Lower-ranking arguments of transitive clauses – called ‘ARG2’ by Haude – are formally characterized by, among other properties, (i) optional realization (in contrast to ARG1 arguments, which are obligatory), (ii) a lack of first and second person clitic pronouns, (iii) obviative case-marking (under some conditions), and (iv) the fact that they refer to p arguments if the verb is marked as direct and to A arguments if the verb is marked as inverse. Arguments lower on the referential hierarchy are assigned to ARG2, arguments higher on the hierarchy to ARG1, in either case regardless of their role. Relativization is possible only on ARG2 (obviative) arguments (or on the sole argument of intransitives): (8) a. [isos waːka [di’ chik〈a〉ye=is neyru=s beń‘i]] art.ppst cow rel find〈dir〉=pl.absent here=det grassland ‘theˉcowsˉwhichˉtheyˉhadˉfoundˉinˉthisˉgrassland’ b. [us ney juyeni [di’ alwani-kaya=y’ɬ i]] art.m here person rel talk-inv=1p ‘thatˉpersonˉwhoˉhadˉspokenˉtoˉus’

Relativization on a p argument, as in (8a), necessitates direct verb morphology (infix -a), relativization on a A argument, as in (8b), inverse verb morphology (suffix -kaya). In both cases, the remaining argument in the relative clause is ARG1, i.e., the



On the scope of the referential hierarchy in the typology of grammatical relations 

higher-ranking argument (the clitic pronouns is ‘they (absent)’ in (8a) and y’ɬ i ‘we’ in (8b). This is in direct contrast to the Tagalog pattern observed earlier in (7). 5.  Conclusions Empirical assessments of referential hierarchy effects on grammatical relations are hampered by the lack of large-scale typological databases beyond person categories in case marking and verb agreement. Where statistical testing is possible, we find no support for a general trend linking accusative alignment with high RH positions and ergative alignment with low RH positions. What is empirically supported is a more specific correlation between zero case exponence and high-ranking A or lowranking p arguments, although the dataset that allows testing this is so far limited to two dozen languages with case splits based on a pronoun vs. noun distinction (Comrie 2005). If this correlation nevertheless reflects a genuine universal, it is possible that it extends to verb agreement. The evidence accumulated so far is equivocal (Siewierska 2004), however, and one reason for this could be that any possible trend towards zero verb agreement morphology for high-ranking A arguments is cancelled out by a counteracting principle that favors agreement with high-ranking arguments across any semantic role (assuming such a principle would have audible, nonzero, effects.) However, although there is some tentative evidence for such a principle, it cannot be taken as a given. It is also possible that the referential hierarchy has a different impact on case (or adposition) and verb agreement because these two ways of marking arguments have a fundamentally different relationship to referential distinctions: the fact that normally case is realized on NPs implies that is much more closely tied to the active, on-line management of reference and information than agreement, and this causes perhaps a more direct impact of referential distinctions on the realization of case than on agreement.

Acknowledgments The research reported here was funded by DFG Grant No. BI 799/3–1. I am grateful to Grev Corbett, Edith Moravcsik, Mickey Noonan, and Anna Siewierksa for helpful comments on a first draft.

References Allen, N.J. 1975. Sketch of Thulung Grammar. Ithaca NY: Cornell University. Bakker, D. & Siewierksa, A. 2006. The agreement database. (http://www.lotschool.nl/Research/ ltrc/agreement.htm; accessed August 7, 2006)

 Balthasar Bickel Bickel, B. 1995. In the vestibule of meaning: Transitivity inversion as a morphological phenomenon. Studies in Language 19: 73–127. Bickel, B. 2000. Person and evidence in Himalayan languages. Linguistics of the Tibeto-Burman Area 23: 1–12. Bickel, B. 2003. Belhare. In The Sino-Tibetan Languages, G.  Thurgood & R.J.  LaPolla (Eds.), 546–70. London: Routledge. Bickel, B. In press. Grammatical relations typology. In The Oxford Handbook of Language Typology, Jae Jung Song (Ed.), Oxford: OUP. Bickel, B., Banjade, G., Gaenszle, M., Lieven, E., Paudyal, N., Rai, R., Rai, M., Rai, N.K. & Stoll S., 2007a. Free prefix ordering in Chintang. Language 83: 43–73. Bickel, B. & Gaenszle, M. 2005. 1P antipassives and the political history of the Southern Kirant. Paper presented at the 11th Himalayan Languages Symposium, Bangkok, December 6–9, 2005. (Handout available at http://www.uni-leipzig.de/~ff/cpdp/frameset_publ.html) Bickel, B., Gaenszle, M., Rai, A., Rai, P.D., Rai, S.K., Rai, V.S. & Sharma (Gautam), N.P. 2007b. Two ways of suspending object agreement in Puma: Between incorporation, antipassivization, and optional agreement. Himalayan Linguistics 7: 1–18. Comrie, B. 1981. Language Universals and Linguistic Typology. Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press. Comrie, B. 2005. Alignment of case marking. In The World Atlas of Language Structures, M. Haspelmath, M.S. Dryer, D. Gil & B. Comrie (Eds.), 398–405. Oxford: OUP. Crook, H.D. 1999. The Phonology and Morphology of Nez Perce Stress. Ph.D. dissertation, UCLA. Curnow, T.J. 1999. Maung verbal agreement revisited: A reponse to Donohue (1998). Australian Journal of Linguistics 19: 141–159. Cysouw, M. 2002. Against implicational universals. Linguistic Typology 7: 89–110. DeLancey, S. 1981. An interpretation of split ergativity and related patterns. Language 57: 626–657. Dixon, R.M.W. 1979. Ergativity. Language 55: 59–138. Donohue, C. & Donohue, M. 1997. Fore case marking. Language and Linguistics in Melanesia 28: 69–98. van Driem, G. 1987. A grammar of Limbu. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. van Driem, G. 1990. The fall and rise of the phoneme/r/in Eastern Kiranti: Sound change in Tibeto-Burman. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 53: 83–86. van Driem, G. 1991. Bahing and the Proto-Kiranti verb. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and Asian Studies 54(2): 336–56. van Driem, G. 1992. Le proto-kiranti revisité: morphologie verbale du lohorung. Acta Linguistica Hafniensia 24: 33–75. van Driem, G. 1993. A Grammar of Dumi. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. van Driem, G. 2001. Languages of the Himalayas: An Ethnolinguistic Handbook of the Greater Himalayan Region, Containing an Introduction to the Symbiotic Theory of Language. Leiden: Brill. DuBois, J.W., Kumpf, L.E. & Ashby, W.J. (Eds), 2003. Preferred Argument Structure: Grammar as Architecture for Function. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Ebert, K.H. 1987. Grammatical marking of speech act participants. Journal of Pragmatics 11: 473–482. Ebert, K.H. 1991. Inverse and pseudo-inverse prefixes in Kiranti languages: Evidence from Belhare, Athpare and Dungmali. Linguistics of the Tibeto-Burman Area 14: 73–92. Ebert, K.H. 1994. The Structure of Kiranti Languages. Zürich: ASAS Press.



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Ebert, K.H. 1997. A Grammar of Athpare. Munich: Lincom. Filimonova, E. 2005. The noun phrase hierarchy and relational marking: Problems and counterevidence. Linguistic Typology 9: 77–113. Gaenszle, M. 1991. Verwandtschaft und Mythologie bei den Mewahang Rai in Ostnepal: Eine ethnographische Studie zum Problem der ‘ethnischen Identität’. Stuttgart: Steiner. Gaenszle, M. In press. Rai mythology. In Rai Mythology: Kiranti Oral Texts, K. Ebert & M. Gaenszle (Eds), Harvard MA: Harvard University Press. Garrett, A. 1990. The origin of NP split ergativity. Language 66: 261–296. Givón, T. 2001. Syntax. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Gordon, L. 1986. Maricopa Morphology and Syntax. Berkeley CA: University of California Press. Haiman, J. 1980. Hua: A Papuan Language of the Eastern Highlands of New Guinea. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Haude, K. 2006. A Grammar of Movima. Ph.D. dissertation, Radboud University, Nijmegen. Jacobsen, W.H. Jr. 1964. A Grammar of the Washo Language. Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Jäger, G. 2007. Evolutionary game theory and typology: A case study. Language 83: 74–109. Janssen, D., Bickel, B. & Zúñiga, F. 2006. Randomization tests in language typology. Linguistic Typology 10: 419–440. Kroeger, P. 1993. Phrase Structure and Grammatical Relations in Tagalog. Stanford CA: CSLI. Lahaussois, A. 2003. Thulung Rai. Himalayan Linguistics Archive 1: 1–25. Michailovsky, B. 1988. La langue hayu. Paris: CNRS. Michailovsky, B. 1994. Manner vs. place of articulation in the Kiranti initial stops. In Current Issues in Sino-Tibetan Linguistics, H.  Kitamura, T.  Nishida & Y.  Nagano (Eds), 766–772. Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology. Michailovsky, B. 1997. Catégories verbales et intransitivité duale en Limbu. Studi Italiani di Linguistica Teorica e Applicata 26: 307–325. Michailovsky, B. 2001. Limbu nous autres and first person morphology. Linguistics of the TibetoBurman Area 24: 145–156. Nagano, Y. 1984. A historical study of the rGyarong verb system. Tokyo: Seishido. Nagano, Y. 2003. Cogtse Gyarong. In The Sino-Tibetan Languages, G. Thurgood & R.J. LaPolla, 469–498. London: Routledge. Nichols, J. 2003. Diversity and stability in language. In Handbook of Historical Linguistics, R.D. Janda & B.D. Joseph (Eds.), 283–310. London: Blackwell. Opgenort, J. Robert. 2004a. A Grammar of Wambule. Leiden: Brill. Opgenort, J.  Robert. 2004b. Implosives and preglottalized stops in Kiranti. Linguistics of the Tibeto-Burman Area 27: 1–27. Opgenort, J.R. 2005. A Grammar of Jero, with a Historical Comparative Study of the Kiranti Languages. Leiden: Brill. Pokharel, M. 2054 (VS, i.e., 1996/1997 AD). Nepāli Vākya Vyākaraṇ. Kāṭhmāṇḍū: Nepāl Rājakīya Pragya-Pratiṣṭhān. Rai, N.K. 1984. A Descriptive Study of Bantawa. Ph.D. dissertation, Deccan College Post-Graduate Research Institute, Puṇe (India) Rutgers, R. 1998. Yamphu. Leiden: CNWS Publications. Schachter, P. 1976. The subject in Philippine languages: Topic, actor, actor-topic, or none of the above. In Subject and Topic, N. Charles Li (Ed.), New York NY: Academic Press. Seidl, A. & Dimitriadis, A. 1997. The discourse function of object marking in Swahili. Proceedings of the 33rd Annual Meeting of the Chicago Linguistics Society: 373–389.

 Balthasar Bickel Siewierska, A. 2004. Person. Cambridge: CUP. Silverstein, M. 1976. Hierarchy of features and ergativity. In Grammatical Categories in Australian Languages, R.M.W. Dixon (Ed.), 112–171. Atlantic Highlands NJ: Humanities Press. Suter, E. 2006. The optional ergative in Kâte. To appear in: Bowden, John & Nikolaus Himmelmann (Eds) a Festschrift for Andrew Pawley. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Toba, S. 1988. The pronominal affix system in Khaling. In Prosodic Analysis and Asian Linguistics: To Honour R.K. Sprigg, D. Bradley, E.J.A. Henderson & M. Mazaudon (Eds), 201–204. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics (PL–C 104) Tolsma, G. 1999. A grammar of Kulung. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Leiden. Watkins, L.J. & McKenzie, P. 1984. A Grammar of Kiowa. Lincoln NB: University of Nebraska Press. Watters, J.K. 1988. Topics in Tepehua Grammar. Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Zúñiga, F. 2006. Deixis and Alignment: Inverse Systems in Indigenous Languages of the Americas [Typological Studies in Language 70]. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

Does passivization require a subject category? Marianne Mithun Passives are usually described in terms of subjects: they shift subject status from the semantic agent of a clause to a patient or other argument. We might accordingly expect that languages without a robust subject category should lack passives. Here passives are examined in a language with at best only marginal evidence of a subject category, Central Pomo of California. The construction alters argument structure by eliminating the grammatical agent from the clause, but has none of the other syntactic effects expected of passives. It does not promote arguments to subject status. There is no shift in pronominal shape or case marking: patients remain coded as grammatical patients, and obliques as obliques. It is not exploited for purely formal syntactic purposes, such as ensuring coreferentiality of arguments in clause combining. It does, however, serve the same kinds of semantic, pragmatic, and discourse functions as passives in many other languages. It eliminates mention of generic, unknown, irrecoverable, unimportant, predictable, stereotypical, and non-topical agents. The density of passives in spontaneous Central Pomo speech indicates these functions are more than sufficient to justify its central place in the grammar.

Descriptions of passives usually take as a point of departure the category of subject. Bernard Comrie, who has been at the forefront of work on grammatical relations, writes, for example, that the passive is ‘characterized as a process whereby the original subject is deleted or demoted to an agentive phrase while the original object is advanced to subject position’ (1989: 16). In their survey chapter on passives in the world’s languages, Keenan & Dryer (2007: 352) identify ‘the defining characteristic of passives: in a passive, the corresponding subject in the active is expressed by an element that is neither a subject nor an object in the corresponding passive.’ If the function of passives is to shift the subject relation from one argument to another, we might wonder whether the existence of a subject category in a language is a prerequisite for the existence of a passive construction. There are in fact a number of languages that lack evidence of a subject category and that also lack passives. If this pattern is consistent cross-linguistically, it will constitute an important typological correlation. In what follows, the relationship is examined in detail in a language indigenous to Northern California,

 Marianne Mithun

Central Pomo. It will be seen that the correlation is not as universal as might be expected: Central Pomo shows, at best, marginal evidence of a subject category, but a ubiquitous passive. The presence of the robust passive without a strong subject category shows that there is more to passivization than reassignment of the subject relation.

1.  Subjects A variety of approaches have been taken to defining subjects. Some definitions have been framed in terms of particular models of syntax, such as Chomsky’s oftcited ‘the relation holding between the NP of a sentence of the form NP^AUX^VP and the whole sentence’ (1965: 69). As that model evolved, so did the characterization of subjects within it. More than twenty years later, Radford described subjects in somewhat different terms: ‘Subjects originate internally within VP, and subsequently move to spec-TP for checking purposes’ (1997: 315). A principle that has not changed over the course of this evolution has been the assumption that subjects are universal to all human languages. A number of other authors, however, among them Comrie (1989), Mithun (1991a), and Andrews (2007), have observed that not all languages exhibit clear evidence of a formal subject category. In his seminal 1976 work ‘Towards a universal definition of ‘subject’, Keenan considers a structural definition along the lines of Chomsky 1965; ‘the basic-subject is immediately dominated by the root node S’, but finds that ‘there is no test to determine whether or not a subpart of a sentence is a constituent’ (1976: 322). He thus turns to a multi-factor approach, listing 30 properties that are typically associated with subjects, but identifying none as necessary or sufficient. He concludes that ‘subjecthood is a matter of degree’ (1976: 307). Comrie remarks that ‘there seem to be some languages where either there is no category subject, or where the various properties of subject are distributed across more than one noun phrase’ (1989: 35). In his comparison of passive and ergative constructions, he provides a set of core subject properties similar to those proposed by Keenan, which include ‘nominative case, triggering verb agreement, and being trigger or target for conjunction reduction, undergoing Equi, subject raising, etc.’ (1988: 13). This approach to the notion of subject differs from those cited earlier in a fundamental way. Subjects are seen as categories that may or may not develop in various parts of the grammars of individual languages, and to varying degrees. They may be seen in morphological marking, such as the nominative case and verb agreement cited by Comrie, or in syntactic patterns such as conjunction reduction, equivalent noun phrase deletion, or raising. It is this second kind of approach that will be taken here.



Does passivization require a subject category? 

2.  Central Pomo Central Pomo is a language of the Pomoan family, indigenous to an area approximately 100 miles north of San Francisco, extending from the California coast to about 50 miles inland.

Pomoan

Pomoan Language Family Adapted from the Handbook of North American Indians William C. Sturtevant, ed. Washington: Smithsonian Institution

Languages of this family provide a good test of the hypothesis that the existence of a passive construction is dependent on the presence of subjects. The languages show little evidence of a category with the prototypical subject properties listed by Comrie. The Central Pomo examples cited here are drawn from the speech of Salome Alcantra, Frances Jack, Eileen Oropeza, and Florence Paoli (personal communication).

3.  Subjects in Central Pomo In this section, Central Pomo will be examined for each of the core subject properties cited by Comrie. We begin with more concrete coding properties, observable in morphological marking patterns, then move toward more abstract behavioral properties, observable in syntactic patterns. The structures investigated are pronoun categories, noun case, verb agreement, constituent order, conjunction reduction, relativization, switch reference, and logophoric or cross-clause reflexives. 3.1  Pronouns As in most languages, the shapes of the pronouns in Central Pomo reflect their grammatical roles. The first person singular pronoun corresponding to the English

 Marianne Mithun

subject ‘I’ is ’a:. The pronoun corresponding to the English object ‘me’ is to̯ :. The third person singular pronoun corresponding to the English subjects ‘he’ and ‘she’ is ̯ . mu:l. The pronoun corresponding to the English objects ‘him’ and ‘her’ is mú:tu (1) ‘a: mú:tu ̯ ’é:y=čadi-w. away=chase-perfective 1sg 3sg ‘Iˉchasedˉhimˉaway.’ (2) Mu:l t̯o: ’é:y=čadi-w. 3sg 1sg away=chase-perfective ‘Heˉchasedˉmeˉaway.’

There are three pronominal paradigms, which we term for the moment Set I, Set II, and Set III. (3) Pronominalˉparadigms: Mithunˉ1990 SetˉI SetˉII SetˉIII ’a: t̯o: khe 1.sg ma mt̯o mkhe 2.sg mu:l mú:t̯u mú:khe 3.sg t̯i: t̯i:t̯o t̯i:khe r.sg

1.pl 2.pl 3.pl r.pl

ya máya mú:t̯uya t̯íya

yal máyal mú:t̯uyal t̯íyal

yá:’khe máya:’khe mú:t̯uya’khe t̯íya:’khe

The Set I pronouns in examples (1) and (2) above correspond to English subjects in the translations, and the Set II pronouns to English objects. Further examples show that the sets do not represent subjects and objects, however. Both sets of pronouns appear in intransitive clauses. (4)

I ntransitives SetˉIˉ’a: ‘I’ ’a: wáq’i’le ’a: phdí:law ’a: sbíč’

‘Iˉwouldˉgo’ ‘Iˉdoveˉin’ ‘Iˉgotˉup’

SetˉIIˉt̯o: ‘I’ t̯o:ˉ’tḥ ál t̯o:ˉbačú: t̯o:ˉqhót̯’a

‘I’mˉsick’ ‘I’mˉtired’ ‘I’mˉticklish’

Both sets of pronouns also appear in transitive clauses. Set I pronouns correspond to English subjects in examples (5a)and (5c), but to the English objects (in (5a) and (5b)). Set II pronouns correspond to subjects in (5b) and (5d), but to the English object in (5d). (5) Transitives a. Mu:l ’a: ’yá:qankaw that 1sg recall Iˉcouldn’tˉthinkˉofˉit.’

čhów. not



Does passivization require a subject category? 

b. Me:n ’in t̯o: mu:l ’yá:qada, so as 1sg that thinking.about ‘That’sˉwhyˉIˉamˉthinkingˉaboutˉit.’ c. Ma t̯o: t̯ét̯e:dan. 2sg. 1sg telling ‘Youˉwereˉtellingˉme.’ d. T̯o:=wa mt̯o ’yá:qan? 1sg=q 2sg remember ‘Doˉyouˉrememberˉme?’

The verbs that occur with Set I pronouns in the examples above, ‘go’, ‘dive in’, and ‘get up’ represent actions and events. Those that occur with Set II forms, being ‘sick’, ‘tired’, and ‘ticklish’ represent states. It might be hypothesized that pronoun choice is determined by aspect. But Set I pronouns also appear with states, and Set II patient pronouns also appear with events. (6) SetˉIˉwithˉstates SetˉIIˉwithˉevents ’a: ’ná: č ‘I’mˉhiding’ t̯o: ló:ya ‘Iˉfell’ ’a: ma: báhčin ‘I’mˉconceited’ t̯o: qhá: snám’khe ‘I’llˉdrown’ ’a: ’eˉbane: ’t̯aw ‘I’mˉlazy’ t̯o: ’qá:č ‘Iˉgotˉlost’

This is thus not an active/stative system. It is what is termed an agent/patient system: Set I pronouns generally represent semantic agents, and Set II patients. Some of the examples above might bring to mind a distinction originally introduced by Perlmutter (1978) between unergative and unaccusative verbs. Unergative verbs were defined as intransitives that describe volitional acts and certain involuntary bodily processes. Unaccusative verbs were defined as intransitives that correspond to adjectives in English and those whose argument is a semantic patient, as well as predicates of existing and happening, emission of stimuli that impinge on the senses, aspectual predicates, and duratives. The Central Pomo system is also based on semantic agency, but it differs in an important way. The unergative/unaccusative distinction was a categorization of intransitive verbs. The Central Pomo pronominal distinction carries through clauses of all kinds, intransitive and transitive, as can be seen in examples (4), (5), and (6). The notion of semantic agency comprises a cluster of semantic features. Agents usually instigate and perform actions and are in control. In most situations, the features of instigation, performance, and control coincide: someone who dives into a river usually instigates the action, performs it, and controls it. In a few situations, however, the features do not cluster: someone may perform the action of sneezing without being in control. Languages with grammatical agent/

 Marianne Mithun

patient systems vary in which feature is given priority for the categorization of arguments. In some languages instigation or performance is criterial. Those who sneeze, choke, or burp are categorized as grammatical agents. In other languages, including Central Pomo, the lack of control is criterial. Those who sneeze, choke, or burp are categorized as grammatical patients. (7) Performanceˉwithoutˉcontrol: SetˉII t̯o: ’és’esya ‘Iˉsneezed’ t̯o: ’té’čya ‘Iˉchoked’ ˚ t̯o: t̯éq’ ‘Iˉburped’

Lack of control alone is not sufficient for categorization as a grammatical patient in Central Pomo, however. Participants must be viewed as both not in control and significantly affected in order to be categorized as grammatical patients, affected in a way with which the speaker empathizes. Inanimate objects and lower animals are not generally cast as grammatical patients. In (5a) above, ‘I couldn’t think of it (a name)’, the name is referred to with a Set I pronoun: the name was not considered sufficiently affected to be cast as a grammatical patient, and certainly not in a way a speaker would empathize with. Similarly in (8) below, the fly was represented with a Set I form, while the person was represented with a Set II patient form. (8) SetˉI SetˉII ’a: hk’úm. Mu:l ’a: hk’úm.    Mú:t̯u 3.agent 1.agent kill    3.patient 1.agent kill ‘Iˉkilledˉit.’ˉ(aˉfly)    ‘Iˉkilledˉhim.’ˉ(aˉperson)

Speakers do not use Set II patient forms if they choose not to focus on affectedness or empathize with the semantic patient, even if this is a person. The Set I agent category is thus semantically unmarked, a default category, and the Set II patient category marked. The agent/patient system has a clear semantic basis, but it is now fully grammaticalized and categorical. Speakers do not make online judgments about degrees of agency as they speak. When they learn a verb, they learn the case frame that goes with it. There is a small set of verbs that appear sometimes with Set I pronouns and sometimes with Set II. These verbs are not evidence of a fluid system: they are lexical doublets. Speakers learn that there are two versions of these particular verbs, one that appears with grammatical agents and the other with grammatical patients. (9) Lexicalˉdoublets SetˉIˉAgents ’a: smáˉmt̯í:č’ ‘Iˉwentˉtoˉbed’ ‘Iˉranˉintoˉit’ ’a: čhném ’a: k’lúk’lu:w ‘Iˉcoughedˉ(voluntarily)’

SetˉIIˉPatients t̯o: smáˉmt̯í:čka ‘Iˉmust’veˉfallenˉasleep’ t̯o: čhném ‘Iˉbumpedˉintoˉit’ to̯ : k’lúk’luw ‘Iˉcoughedˉ(involuntary)’



Does passivization require a subject category? 

The Set III pronouns are used as obliques and possessives, usually for alienable possession. (10) SetˉIII:obliquesˉandˉpossessives ‘bringˉmeˉsomeˉwater!’ a. Kheˉqháˉbé:dum! b. Kheˉbá:ṭhiyalˉ’a:h’élan. ‘I’mˉlookingˉforˉmyˉfather-in-law.’

3.2  Noun case Central Pomo shows case marking on nouns, but only on some nouns. These are mainly terms for certain persons, especially kin. Agent nouns are unmarked. Patient nouns carry the suffix -l. In example (11), the nouns ‘woman’ and ‘wife’ refer to the same person and share the same grammatical role. Only the term for ‘wife’ has a patient case form, however. (11) Patientˉcaseˉonˉnouns: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Mú:khet̯’ má:t̯a q’alá:w, míya: dáqa:de-l. 3sg.possessor woman died 3sg.kinship.possessor wife-patient ‘Hisˉwomanˉdied,ˉhisˉwifeˉ(patient).’

When speakers wish to specify the role of an argument identified by a noun that lacks grammatical patient or oblique case forms, they can add a pronoun, though this is not obligatory. In both clauses in (12), the fish is a grammatical patient. The noun ‘fish’ has no patient case form itself, but the pronoun which follows it specifies its grammatical role. (12) Caseˉbyˉpronominals: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. qaṭ’é:č’. Yá: ’el khmú, du: šá ’el mú:t̯u bone the all other fish the 3sg.patient gave ‘Heˉgaveˉtheˉotherˉfishˉallˉhisˉbones’. ’úda:w ṭhédu: yá:. Me:n ’dóma, šṭ’ó, mu:l šá ’el mú:t̯u so hearsay now 3sg fish the 3sg.patient very many bone ‘Soˉnow,ˉtheyˉsay,ˉoneˉfishˉswimsˉaroundˉwithˉlotsˉofˉbones.’

3.3  Agreement In many languages verbs carry a marker that shows agreement in one or more features with their subjects. Certain Central Pomo verbal suffixes and clitics do appear at first to show subject agreement. In most cases, however, a closer look reveals that they are not subject agreement markers after all. 3.3.1  Commands The imperative endings of commands show agreement for number. The ending for commands addressed to one person is -im, while that for commands to two or more is -ime’.

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(13) Imperatives:-im/-ime’ a. Šó:č-im ‘Listen!’ (commandˉtoˉone) Šó:č-ime’ ‘Listen!’ (commandˉtoˉtwoˉorˉmore) b. T̯á:saˉmčáma-m ‘Setˉtheˉtable!’ (commandˉtoˉone) T̯á:saˉmčáma-me’ ‘Setˉtheˉtable!’ (commandˉtoˉtwoˉorˉmore)

The agreement is actually not with subjects. Imperatives are addressed only to those capable of instigating and controlling events. Commands agree in number with agents. 3.3.2  -t̯a The verbal suffix -t̯a might also appear at first to be a plural subject agreement marker. It occurs in intransitive clauses with both grammatical agents (‘they jumped into the water’) and grammatical patients (‘they are getting older’). (14) -t̯a Mú: lˉqhá: phdí:law. Mú:t̯uya qhá: hdít̯a:lam. Mú:t̯u yémaq’ Mú:t̯uyal yemáqt̯aw.

‘Heˉjumpedˉintoˉtheˉwater.’ ‘Theyˉjumpedˉintoˉtheˉwater.’ ‘Heˉisˉgettingˉolder.’ ‘Theyˉareˉgettingˉolder.’

This suffix actually quantifies events rather than participants. It is a multiple event marker. The people jumping into the water each jumped separately, at a different spot and at a different moment. Those getting older were each getting older individually, at their own pace. The suffix does not occur in verbs portraying group activities. In the sentence in (15), the noun šná ‘boat’ carries no number marking, but the verb contains the multiple event suffix -t̯a. (15) Multipleˉeventˉ-t̯a Šnáˉphadét̯a’kaw. ‘They’reˉallˉmovingˉtheirˉboats.’

3.3.3  -ma A verbal suffix -ma/-m also appears at first appear to show number agreement with subjects. (16) -ma bé:n ‘(he/she)ˉcarriedˉitˉ(aˉcompactˉobject)’ bé:n-ma-w ‘(they)ˉcarriedˉit’

This suffix -ma is not actually a plural marker. It specifies collective agency, that is, the involvement of multiple agents working more or less together. (17) Collectiveˉagencyˉ-ma a. bé:n ‘(one)ˉcarriedˉitˉ(aˉcompactˉobject)’ bé:n-ma-w ‘(group)ˉcarriedˉitˉtogether’



Does passivization require a subject category? 

b. qo’díya ‘(one)ˉbroughtˉitˉinˉ(somethingˉlong)’ qo’dí-mma-ya ‘(group)ˉbroughtˉitˉinˉtogether,ˉcarryingˉtheˉsameˉload’

The suffix occurs only in verbs with grammatical agents: it does not occur in verbs whose only argument is a grammatical patient. In (18), the people under discussion are grammatical agents of ‘carry’, as in (16), and the verb ‘carry’ contains the collective agency suffix -ma-. But the same people are grammatical patients of the verb ‘fall’, and this verb lacks the suffix. (18) Multipleˉagentsˉandˉpatients Bé:nmawda čhnánawsiya. be:n-ma-w-da čhnana-w=siya carry-collective.agency-prf-as fall-prf=almost ‘Whenˉtheyˉcarriedˉitˉin,ˉtheyˉalmostˉfell.’

3.3.4  -aq Another verb suffix might appear to be a plural subject agreement marker. It does not appear on the verb in (19a) ‘he brought in firewood’, but it does appear on the verb in (19b) ‘they brought in firewood’. (19) -aq ‘(He)ˉbroughtˉsomeˉfirewoodˉintoˉtheˉhouse.’ a. Háyˉčawˉ’díya. b. Háyˉčawˉ’diäa:q’ya. ‘(They)ˉbroughtˉsomeˉfirewoodˉintoˉtheˉhouse.’

This suffix, like the others seen so far, is not an agreement marker either. It is a distributed agency marker. Both sentences (17b) and (19b) are based on the stem ’di‘carry something long’ and have multiple agents. In (17b) the agents were acting as a group, bringing in one large object together. In (19b), each was acting individually, each carrying separate loads. The distributed agency marker is somewhat more marked than the collective agency suffix -ma. Note that (19b) also contains the multiple event suffix -t̯a. 3.3.5  =la, =ya, and =wiya Two other endings might appear to mark subject agreement, this time with subject person. (20) =la,ˉ=ya Šṭ’óˉšk’eˉqayú’čiwla. Šṭ’óˉšk’eˉqa:yú’čimawla. Šṭ’óˉšk’eˉqayú’čiya. Šṭ’óˉšk’eˉqayú’čimaya.

‘Iˉjustˉstartedˉtoˉeat.’ ‘Weˉjustˉstartedˉtoˉeat.’ ‘Heˉjustˉstartedˉtoˉeat.’ ‘Theyˉjustˉstartedˉtoˉeat.’

But =la does not occur on verb with a first person subject, and =ya does not occur on every verb with a third person subject. The verb qayú’č’iw is common for

 Marianne Mithun

‘(I/you/he/she) started eating’, and the verb qayú’čimaw is common for ‘(we/you all/they) started eating’. Furthermore, =ya can occur on verbs with first or second person subjects. (21) Šṭ’óˉšk’eˉmaˉqayú’čiya. ‘Butˉyouˉjustˉstartedˉeating.’ˉ(Areˉyouˉleavingˉalready?)

These endings are actually evidentials. The enclitic =la indicates that the speaker knows the event happened because he or she was involved as an agent. It contrasts with another enclitic =wiya, which indicates that the speaker knows about the situation because he or she was affected by it. The ending =ya indicates that the speaker knows about the event through direct, first-hand experience. It often appears with third persons, but it can appear with first or second as well. (22) Evidentials =la ‘IˉknowˉbecauseˉIˉdid/amˉdoing/willˉdoˉitˉmyself,ˉinvolvedˉ asˉanˉagent.’ =wiya ‘Iˉknowˉbecauseˉitˉhappenedˉtoˉme,ˉIˉwasˉinvolvedˉasˉaˉpatient.’ =ya ‘Iˉknowˉfromˉdirectˉobservation,ˉfirst-handˉexperience’ Phdí:law=la. Dóč=la. Mṭ’á:kawan=la.

‘(I)ˉdoveˉin.’ ‘(I)ˉdidˉit.’ ‘(I)’mˉcookingˉit.’

Bačú:=wiya. Balá:čh=wiya. Škhé:n=wiya.

‘(I)’mˉtired.’ ‘(I)ˉmadeˉaˉmistake.’ ‘(I)ˉamˉgettingˉwell.’

3.3.6  Stem shape A number of verbs show drastic differences between singular and plural forms. The differences can be seen both in verbs with grammatical agents and verbs with grammatical patients. (The perfective aspect suffix is -w after vowels and zero after consonants.) (23) Stemˉshifts ‘He/sheˉwent.’ a. Mu:lˉyów. Mú:t̯uyaˉhlíw. ‘Theyˉwent.’ b. Mú:t̯uˉmdál. ‘He/sheˉdied.’ Mú:t̯uyalˉléy. ‘Theyˉdied.’

These differences in stem shape are also not subject agreement. The two forms are distinct lexical items, part of whose meaning is the number of participants involved. The lexical alternations do not set off a subject category as trigger. Similar alternations can be seen among transitive verb stems, but here it is the number of the patient that is specified. If someone kills one person, the stem hq’úm is used,



Does passivization require a subject category? 

but if the same person kills more than one, the stem ’léy is used. If someone lays down one long object, the stem ném is used, but if he or she lays down more than one, the stem mčám, is appropriate. The alternations do not reflect subject number, agent number, or patient number, but rather absolutive number. The number is part of the meaning of the verb, a semantic feature of these lexical items, not unlike that in English stampede or massacre. Absolutive number patterning in the verbal lexicon is widespread cross-linguistically and is generally independent of patterns of case, pronominal shape, or grammatical relations. 3.3.7  Imperfectives All Central Pomo verbs distinguish aspect. As seen in the examples above, perfective aspect is marked by -w after a vowel and zero after a consonant, regardless of number. Imperfective aspect, however, is marked by a pair of suffixes: -an/-ač (with phonologically-defined variants). (24) Imperfectiveˉsuffixes ‘Heˉisˉlistening.’ a. Mu:lˉšó:č-an. Mú:t̯uyaˉšó:č-ač’. ‘Theyˉareˉlistening.’ ‘Heˉisˉeatingˉit.’ b. Mu:lˉqawá-:n. Mú:t̯uyaˉqawá-:č’. ‘Theyˉareˉeatingˉit.’

The verbs ending in -an, šó: č-an ‘is/was listening’ and qawá-:n ‘is/was eating’, are used only with single listeners and eaters (‘I’, ‘you’, ‘he’, ‘she’). The verbs ending in -ač’, šó:č-ač’ ‘are/were listening’ and qawá-:c’ ‘are/were eating’, are used only with multiple listeners and eaters (‘we’, ‘you all’, ‘they’). Transitivity makes no difference: the same endings are used with intransitives (‘listen’) and transitives (‘eat X’). It is impossible to determine from these examples whether the -an/-ač’ alternation is triggered by subject number or agent number, since the listeners and the eaters would be both subjects in a language like English and grammatical agents in Central Pomo. In order to find out, we should compare imperfective sentences in which the argument which would be a subject in English is a grammatical patient in Central Pomo. Imperfective intransitives with grammatical patients are actually vanishingly rare. (States are inflected as perfectives.) Speakers often choose not to highlight the affectedness of a semantic patient with grammatical patient marking, and they typically do not mention arguments at all when their identity is clear. Two examples have occurred. Both are based on the verb ley ‘multiple die’, which can appear with a plural patient argument. Both contain imperfective suffixes: the first is a basic imperfective with progressive meaning, and the second a habitual, formed from a sequence of two imperfective markers. Both show the plural imperfective forms -ač’, reflecting the plurality of the patient arguments.

 Marianne Mithun

(25) Patientˉsubjectsˉofˉintransitives: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. a. Mé:n ’íba šwáy ’el léyač’. me:n ’í-ba šway ’el ley-ač’ so be-and laughter the multiple.die-imperfective.pl ‘Andˉsoˉtheyˉwereˉjustˉdyingˉofˉlaughter.’ b. Mída yal smá léya:č’ač’. mida ya-l sma ley-ač’-ač’ there 1pl-patient sleep multiple.die-imperfective.pl-imperfective.pl ‘Thereˉweˉwouldˉgoˉtoˉsleep.’

We thus might have a faint glimmer of a subject category as a trigger in imperfective suffix selection. So far it has only surfaced with this one verb root léy ‘die’, however, and only on these two occasions, over years of recorded conversations. 3.4  Word order Subjects are frequently invoked in descriptions of constituent order. Basic word order in a language is often characterized as SOV, SVO, VSO, etc. If a language showed rigid and consistent order, it might be possible to define subjects as the first argument in the clause. Central Pomo does not show such invariant order. In the passage in (26), the first clause shows what would be SOV order if Central Pomo had subjects: ‘you me beat’. The second could be interpreted as OSV, but the bones could be argued to be outside of the nuclear clause: ‘All my bones you (from) me will win’. The third, however, shows what would be OSV order: ‘All your bones I will win’. (26) Constituentˉorder: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Má t̯ó: q’álhla, 2sg.agt 1sg.pat beat.if yá: ’el khmú, ’e má t̯ó: ṭhá:y’khe.ˉ…ˉ ’e khe it.is 1sg.poss bone the all it.is 2sg.agt 1sg.pat win.willˉ Mkhe yá: t̯á:y ’el khmú ’a: ṭhá:y’khe. 2sg.poss bone pile the all 1sg.agt win.will ‘Ifˉyouˉbeatˉme you’llˉwinˉallˉofˉmyˉbonesˉfromˉme.ˉ… I’llˉwinˉyourˉ wholeˉ heapˉofˉbones.’

3.5  Conjunction reduction As pointed out by Keenan, Comrie, and others, evidence of a subject category can be indirect, not marked morphologically but inferable from certain syntactic patterns.



Does passivization require a subject category? 

One such pattern is English conjunction reduction, where the second of two coreferential subjects is omitted: He washed his face and __combed his hair. The distribution of overt arguments in Central Pomo provides no comparable evidence of a subject category. Arguments in any role need not be mentioned so long as reference is clear, whether it be from linguistic or extra-linguistic context. The two sentences in (27) described the action of a little girl who had not been mentioned overtly for several sentences. In the first of the two sentences, the girl was again not mentioned. In the second, neither the girl nor the water was mentioned. (27) Unspecifiedˉreference: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeaker,ˉp.c. Mé:n-da bal qhá ’el bé-č’. such-at this water the hold-inceptive.perfective Mi: bé-m. there hold-essive ‘Duringˉthisˉtime,ˉ(she)ˉpickedˉupˉtheˉwater. (She)ˉheldˉ(it)ˉthere.’

3.6  Switch reference A number of languages reveal the existence of a subject category in clause-combining constructions known as ‘switch-reference’. In his work on the general typological properties of switch-reference systems, Comrie mentions the central role of subjects. There is marking on the clause-final verb of a dependent clause to indicate whether or not the subject of that clause is coreferential with the subject of the independent clause on which the first clause is dependent.’ (1983: 18) … A sinequa-non of a switch-reference system is the distinction between same-subject and different-subject forms.’ (1983: 21).

The Pomoan languages contain constructions that have sometimes been analyzed as switch reference. Clauses are combined by means of suffixes and enclitics with meanings such as ‘and’, ‘if ’, ‘while’, and ‘then’. The markers are attached to the last word of the dependent clause, which is always the predicate. Different sets of markers are used for irrealis and realis sentences. (28) CentralˉPomoˉdependencyˉmarkersˉ(Mithunˉ1993) Same Different Irrealis -hi =hla ‘and,ˉif ’ Realis Coincident -in =da ‘and,ˉwhile’ Consecutive -ba =li ‘andˉthen’

Examples of the use of the markers are below. The clauses in (29) are linked by the ‘same’ marker -hi. They have the same subject ‘I’ in the translation.

 Marianne Mithun

(29) Irrealisˉ‘same’ˉmarker: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Mú:t̯u maqó-hi, 3sg.patient find-same.irrealis ’a: t̯ét̯e-:n=’khe. 1sg.agent tell-imprf.sg=future ‘IfˉIˉseeˉhim, I’llˉtellˉhim.’

The coreferential arguments in (29) are also agents, so it is not clear whether the ‘same’ switch-reference marker is triggered by subjects or agents. In (30), the coreferential arguments ‘you’ are translated as English subjects in both clauses but categorized as grammatical patients in Central Pomo. The ‘same’ marker -hi is again used. (30) Irrealisˉ‘same’ˉmarker: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. ’e Čhná:-hi fall-same.irrealis copula mt̯o ’t hál bá-č’-=i’khe. ˚ 2sg.patient hurt grow-reflexive=future ‘Ifˉyouˉfallˉdown you’reˉgoingˉtoˉgetˉhurt.’

Examples (29) and (30) together suggest that the clause-combining system might indeed reveal a subject category; the ‘same’ marker is used whether the coreferential arguments are grammatical agents or patients. The ‘different’ marker =hla ‘if ’ can be seen in example (31). The arguments translated as subjects, ‘rain’ and ‘we’, are indeed different. (31) Irrealisˉ‘different’ˉmarker: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Čhé múlaq=hla, rain fall=different.irrealis hlí-w. ya čhó-w=’khe 1pl.agent not-prf=future multiple.go-prf ‘Ifˉitˉrains, weˉwon’tˉgo.’

A closer look at the uses of the Central Pomo dependency markers, however, shows that they do not reveal a subject category after all. The clauses in (32) show different translation subjects and even different agents (‘I’, ‘you’) but the ‘same’ marker -hi was used to connect them. (32) Irrealisˉ‘same’ˉmarker: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. khčé ’el dó-č-hi ’a: mkhe 1sg.agent 2sg.oblique bridge the make-semelfactive-same.irrealis ‘I’llˉbuildˉtheˉbridgeˉforˉyouˉand



Does passivization require a subject category? 

mí=:li ma ’dí-m=’khe. that=with 2sg.agent take.multiple-across=future onˉthatˉyou’llˉtakeˉthemˉacross.’

The clauses in (33) show the same subjects and agents (both ‘you’), but the ‘different’ marker =hla was used. (33) Irrealisˉ‘different’ˉmarker: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Ma mu:l ’í-w čhó-w=hla, 2sg.agt that do-prf not-prf=different.irrealis ph-wí-w=’khe. ma ma: basét ’ t habá:’-č’i-w ˚ ˚ 2sg.agt stuff bad happen-rfl-prf visually-perceive-prf=fut ‘Ifˉyouˉdon’tˉdoˉthat, you’reˉgoingˉtoˉseeˉbadˉthingsˉhappen.’

In fact the Central Pomo markers do not specify reference relations between arguments after all. They indicate whether the speaker is portraying the situations expressed in the two clauses as components of the same event/state (‘same’) or as two distinct ones (‘different’). This clause-combining system thus does not provide evidence of a subject category. 3.7  Relativization As demonstrated by Keenan and Comrie (1977) and Comrie (1989: 155–163), evidence of a subject category can be seen in some languages in relative clause formation. In those languages, the argument shared by the main and relative clauses must function as the subject of the relative clause. Sentences like I saw the man [who won] and I saw the man [who won the lottery] are both possible, but not I saw the man [that you mentioned] or I saw the man [that you told me about]. Relativization is not a major construction in Central Pomo, but the structures closest to relative clauses show no such restrictions. We can see this in the last two lines of (34): ‘not getting his things ready, the things he was going to wear’. The coreferential ‘things’ is translated as the object of ‘wear’. (34) Relativization: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Čalél wá:-’w-an, just walk-around-imprf.sg lóq’ ’el kay q’dí ’bá-:n t̯hi-n, t̯í:khe r.sg.possessor thing the too good get.ready-imprf.sg not-imprf.sg t̯i: lóq’ šim=’khe. r.sg.agent thing wear=future ‘Heˉwasˉjustˉwanderingˉaround, notˉgettingˉhisˉthingsˉready, theˉthings heˉwasˉgoingˉtoˉwearˉ[theˉthings].’

 Marianne Mithun

3.8  Cross-clause reflexives In English, the subject of an embedded clause need not be mentioned if it is coreferential with an argument of the matrix clause: He wants _to go, She wants him _ to go. Such constructions have been described in terms of equivalent noun phrase deletion. As seen in the previous section, there are no syntactic restrictions on omitted arguments: it is sufficient that reference be clear. Central Pomo does, however, contain a special set of pronouns t̯i, t̯í:t̯o, t̯i:khe (singular)  and t̯íya, t̯íyal, t̯íya:’khe (plural), labeled r in Table 1 in Section 3.1. In example (34) above, ‘(He) was just walking around, not getting his things ready’, the r possessive t̯í: khe ‘his’ was used because the possessor was also the subject/agent of both ‘walk around’ and ‘get ready’. Though this subject/agent was not mentioned explicitly in either clause, it controlled the form of the possessive pronoun. It also controlled the form of the pronoun t̯í: ‘he’ in the subordinate clause ‘which he was going to wear’. On the basis of sentences in which it occurs, it is not possible to determine whether the r pronouns are triggered by subjects or agents. The triggers are normally both. Pronouns with functions like these are sometimes called logophoric or cross-clause reflexives. They are used in complements of verbs of saying (their logophoric use), and they show coreference across clauses within a sentence as in (34) (their cross-clause reflexive use). (These pronouns are not used in simple reflexive constructions, which are based on reflexive verbs formed with a derivational suffix -č’:’ná: - ‘hide (something)’, ’ná:-č’ ‘hide oneself ’. The special r pronouns have a second function. They are used when a speaker is taking another’s point of view, presenting information as if he or she were inside the mind of the referent. The sentence in (35) was uttered in the course of a conversation while the speaker was looking at her dog. Another dog that had been staying at her house had recently been given away. The use of the special r form t̯í:khe ‘his’ indicates that the speaker was relaying the thoughts of her dog. (35) Pointˉofˉview: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. ’úda:w qamát̯’ t̯’á-:’-d=a háyu. really angry feel-reflexive-imprf.sg=immediate dog má:t̯a-man ’čí:-ya-w. T̯í:khe r.sg.possessor woman-specific take-passive-prf ‘Theˉdogˉfeelsˉprettyˉmad. Hisˉwomanˉhasˉbeenˉtakenˉaway.’

Two different conclusions could be drawn from this example. It could be argued that it demonstrates that the r pronouns are not triggered by subjects after



Does passivization require a subject category? 

all. The subject of the sentence containing t̯í:khe ‘his’, ‘His woman has been taken away’, is not the dog but his woman. Alternatively, it could be argued that (35) demonstrates the r pronouns are in fact triggered by subjects rather than agents. The antecedent of ‘his’ is the subject but not the agent of the immediately preceding sentence, ‘The dog feels pretty mad’. The noun háyu ‘dog’ has no patient case form, but those who are angry are generally classified as grammatical patients, especially when the speaker adopts their point of view as here. It is more likely that the sentences in (34) and (35) represent two now distinct uses of the r pronouns. The r pronouns t̯í:khe ‘his’ and t̯í: ‘he’ in (34) are indeed required by the syntax, triggered by their coreference with the (unmentioned) subjects: ‘(He) was just wandering around, (he) not getting his things ready that he was going to wear’. The r pronoun tí:khe ‘his’ in (35) ‘His woman has been taken away’ is serving a semantic function, indicating that the speaker is portraying the dog’s point of view. The syntactic and semantic functions are of course not unrelated. If we choose to infer from (35) that the trigger for the use of r pronouns in syntactic constructions like (34) can be either an agent or patient, then we might have a second possible glimmer of a covert subject category. 3.9  Evidence for a Central Pomo subject category The search for the core subject properties listed by Comrie in Central Pomo has turned up very little evidence of a subject category in either morphology or syntax. Pronoun shape and noun case distinguish grammatical agents and patients rather than subjects and objects. Nearly all of the verbal morphology that might at first glance be interpreted as subject agreement turns out to be something else. One possible exception are the imperfective suffixes -an/-ač’. Two sentences, both based on the verb ley ‘die’, suggest that the choice between the two might be triggered by subject number. Syntactic patterns similarly show little evidence of a subject category. Counterparts to English word order, conjunction reduction, and equivalent noun phrase reduction do no privilege a subject category. What might at first appear to be a switch-reference system based on coreferentiality of subjects is not actually governed by subject coreference after all. The coreferential argument in relative clauses need not be a subject. There is just one syntactic construction that might provide a glimmer of a subject category: the use of cross-clause reflexive r pronouns: Pronouns whose antecedents are the subject of their clause or a higher clause must have the special r form. Evidence that the trigger must be a subject rests on the interpretation of a slightly different construction involving the same pronouns. Evidence of a subject category in Central Pomo is thus marginal.

 Marianne Mithun

4.  Central Pomo passives If the usual function of passives is to shift the subject relation from one argument to another, we might not expect to find a robust passive construction in Central Pomo. But there is a ubiquitous construction that is usually translated as a passive. It is marked by a verbal suffix -(y)a-. (36) Passive: FlorenceˉPaoli,ˉspeakerˉp.c. qawíw ‘bear,ˉgiveˉbirthˉto,ˉhaveˉ(aˉchild)’ qawí:-ya-w ‘beˉborn’

active passive

a. active Sheila do: ’íhla k’ú: qawí-w. name quotative again child bear-prf ‘SheˉsaidˉthatˉSheilaˉgaveˉbirthˉtoˉanotherˉbaby.’ b. passive Šmá baku qawí:-ya-w. ear blocked bear-passive-prf ‘Heˉwasˉbornˉdeaf.’ (37) Passive: FlorenceˉPaoli,ˉspeakerˉp.c. bayá’č’iw ‘answer’ active bayá’č’-a-w ‘wasˉanswered’ passive a. active Mu:l št̯’o má:t̯a=ya ba-yá’č’i-w t̯o: that now woman=topic orally-answer-semelfactive-prf 1sg.patient ‘Thenˉaˉladyˉansweredˉme.’ b. passive [Iˉdon’tˉknowˉhowˉmanyˉtimesˉIˉcalledˉoverˉthere. Iˉthoughtˉtheyˉwereˉhome.] ba-yá’č’-a-w. Mu:l čhó-w=’ma that not-prf=factual orally-answer-semelfactive-passive-prf ‘Butˉnobodyˉanswered.’ˉ(lit.ˉ‘Itˉwasn’tˉanswered.’)

Both transitive and intransitive clauses can be passivized. Examples (36) and (37) above show passives of the transitives ‘give birth to (someone)’ and ‘answer (someone)’. Example (38) shows a passive of the intransitive lówač’ ‘several talk, converse’. (38) Passiveˉofˉintransitiveˉforˉvagueˉagent: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Lówa-:’-ya-w ’úda:w. multiple.talk-imprf.pl-passive-prf lot ‘There’sˉbeenˉaˉlotˉofˉtalk.’

The effect of passivization is to eliminate any mention of the single argument, the talkers.



Does passivization require a subject category? 

The Central Pomo suffix -(y)a- is derivational: it forms new intransitive verb stems. It can occur before or after other derivational suffixes. In the verb in (39) it passivizes a causative stem, so the sequence of suffixes is causative-passive. (39) Causative-passive: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. [Weˉusedˉtoˉpickˉlotsˉofˉacornsˉthere.] Mí=l=’ma mu:l yal ’-yém-ka-ya-w ’e. that=at=factual that 1pl.patient fingering-stop-causative-passive copula ‘Theyˉmadeˉusˉstopˉpickingˉthere.’ (‘Weˉwereˉcausedˉtoˉstopˉpicking.’)

In the verb in (40) the causative suffix has scope over a passive stem, so the sequence of suffixes is the reverse: passive-causative. (40) Passive-causative: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Mu:l mú:t̯ˉuya baséṭ’ t̯’á-:’č’i-w that 3pl.agent bad sense-reflexive-prf mu:l da-ṭhíč’-a-:ka-w=’khe. that pushing-uncover-passive-causative-prf-future ‘Theyˉfeelˉbad aboutˉdiggingˉthemˉup.’ˉ(‘causingˉthemˉtoˉbeˉuncovered’)

Usually the primary syntactic effect of passives is to shift the grammatical relation of subject to another argument, a shift that affects all of the core subject properties seen so far, such as case marking, number agreement, and triggering various syntactic patterns. 4.1  Passives and case The Central Pomo passive construction shares some features with prototypical passives but not others. As in many languages, the semantic agent is eliminated entirely: it is never expressed in an oblique. There is no evidence, however, that the patient is promoted in any way. Pronouns and nouns retain their grammatical patient forms. In (41) the unwanted ‘we’ is expressed with the pronominal patient form yal, and those not wanting us are unmentioned. (41) Unchangedˉpatientˉpronoun: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Yal mi: dá:-’-č’-a-w t̯hin. 1pl.patient there want-rfl-imprf.pl-passive-prf not-imprf.sg ‘We’reˉnotˉwantedˉthere.’

In (42) the role of the deceased woman is specified with the patient pronoun mú:t̯u after the noun phrase and an evidential, but the agents who laid her out are not mentioned.

 Marianne Mithun

(42) Unchangedˉpatientˉpronoun: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. né:-ya-w ’e Meṭ’ má:t̯a, ’=ma mú:t̯u that woman copula=factual 3sg.patient set-passive-prf copula čá:č’ ’bú-m-a-w má:=da. person bury-collective.agency-passive-prf place=at ‘Thatˉwoman wasˉlaidˉoutˉthere, atˉtheˉmortuary.’

4.2  Passives and number In languages like English, where verbs can show number agreement with the subject, passivization results in a shift in the agreement trigger. Agreement markers reflect agent subject number in active constructions but patient subject number in passives: Jokes always amuse_ (plural) him versus He is (singular) always amused by jokes. The triggers of all verbal number marking in Central Pomo remain unchanged under passivization. The participants in the situation whose number was reflected in the basic construction are the same ones whose number is reflected in the -ya- construction. As described earlier, the meaning of some verb stems includes a specification of the number of the absolutive argument: the single argument of intransitives and the patient of transitives. The verb mdal is used if one person dies, but the verb ley is used if more than one dies. The verb hk’um ‘kill’ is used for killing one person, while the verb’ley is used for killing more than one. As would be expected, passivization does not alter the reference of the absolutive argument. In the clause ‘this man was killed there’, the verb for killing one person was used, just as it would be in its active counterpart ‘they killed one man there’. (43) Singularˉverb: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Mu:l do:, mí=: that hearsay there=at mu:l ph-wí-m-a-w visually-perceive-collectiveˉagency-passive-prf that bal hihk’ú:m-a-w this kill.one-passive-prf

čá:č’ man

’=mi=:. copula-there=at

‘Theyˉsay heˉwasˉseenˉthereˉ(byˉmoreˉthanˉone), thisˉmanˉthatˉwasˉ killedˉthere.’

The trigger of the collective agency suffix -m(a) also remains unaffected by passivization. In the clause ‘he was seen there’ in (43) above, the verb ‘seen’ contains the collective agency suffix -m-, though there is no overt agent argument in



Does passivization require a subject category? 

that clause. The suffix, which is derivational, reflects the semantics of the situation rather than the syntactic structure of the clause. Similarly, in the clause ‘they’re put in boxes [coffins]’ in (44) below, the plural stem in the passive verb ‘multiple were put’ reflects the fact that multiple bodies are involved, and the collective agency suffix -ma- reflects the fact that a group does this work together. (44) Pluralˉverb: FlorenceˉPaoli,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Mu:l t̯’a=: that sense=immediate that couldˉbe káhon met’ mčát̯-t̯a-m-a-w. ˚ box that put.multiple-multiple.event-collective.agency-passive-prf box that theyˉareˉput ‘Iˉthinkˉthey’re putˉinˉboxes.’

The only morphological distinction found in the language that might be triggered by subjects was the imperfective pair -an/-ac’. The possibility that their alternation might be triggered by subject number rather than agent number was based on just two sentences, both based on the verb ley ‘multiple die’. Central Pomo passives are themselves always perfective: they describe a state resulting from an event or activity, and in Central Pomo, states are classified grammatically as perfective. They thus end in the perfective marker -w after vowels or zero after consonants. Passives often contain imperfective markers before the final perfective suffix, however, which indicate the aspect of the activity that established the passive state. Interestingly, the choice between the two imperfective suffixes remains unchanged under passivization. It reflects the number of agents responsible for the original event, even though the agents are no longer syntactic arguments of the clause. In (45) ‘What is going to be discussed here?’, the plural imperfective suffix -ač’ (here -a’-) reflects the fact that all members of the group were going to participate in the discussion. (45) Passiveˉofˉpluralˉimperfective: SalomeˉAlcantra,ˉspeakerˉp.c. ló:w-a’-ya-w=’khe bé=da Q’ó=’khe what=from multiple.talk-imprf.pl-passive-prf=future here=at here aboutˉwhat itˉwillˉbeˉdiscussed ‘Whatˉareˉweˉgoingˉtoˉtalkˉaboutˉhere?’

Habitual aspect is indicated by a sequence of two imperfective suffixes, both of which show the -an/-ač’ alternation for number. In the habitual verb in (46), both imperfective suffixes show the plural form, reflecting the number of the unnamed agents, even though the agents are not arguments of the clause.

 Marianne Mithun

(46) Passiveˉpluralˉhabitual: EileenˉOropeza,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Me:n ’do: mí-t̯-a:q’-ač’-a’-ya-w. so hearsay say-multiple.event-distr-imprf.pl-imprf.pl-passive-prf ‘Apparentlyˉpeopleˉareˉsayingˉthis.’ˉ(‘Apparentlyˉitˉisˉbeingˉsaid.’)

4.3  Passives and cross-clause reflexives The only other possible evidence of a subject category in Central Pomo was the use of the special r pronouns for arguments that are coreferential with the subject (or agent) of their clause or a higher clause. It was not determined for certain whether the controllers of these pronouns are subjects or agents, because the straightforward instances of their use all involve triggers that could be classified as either. If passivization resulted in a shift in control of the pronominal form from the agent to the patient, we would have evidence of a subject category in this construction. We could conclude that it was the subject that triggered use of the r pronouns rather than the agent. There is no shift. The single argument of the passive need not control the pronoun. In the passive sentence in (47), ‘We were not paid attention to when we went into their stores’, the possessive t̯íya:’khe ‘their’ is coreferential with the semantic agent, which is not even an argument of the sentence. The use of the r pronoun here is not an instance of empathetic or logophoric use. The speaker was describing white storekeepers in a nearby town who refused to recognize Pomo customers. She was neither taking the point of view of the storekeepers nor relating something they had told her. (47) rˉpronouns: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Q’ó=’t̯i ’-mu:l yal, what-but copula=that 1pl.patient itˉis us atˉall hól=yo:-ma=’le t̯hi-n toward=go-collective.agency=conditional not-imprf.sg not wouldˉcome store=da ya store, t̯íya:’khe 1pl.agent store r.pl.possessive store=in we store their inˉtheˉstore

čá-w hlí-w=da. house-in multiple.go-prf=different inside whenˉwouldˉgoˉin ‘Weˉwereˉnotˉpaidˉattentionˉtoˉwhenˉweˉwentˉintoˉtheirˉstores.’

The same situation obtains with the logophoric use of the r pronouns. The r pronouns need not be coreferential with the patients of passives. The speaker cited in (48) was recounting what the victim had told her. If the use of the r pronouns



Does passivization require a subject category? 

were triggered by subjects, the things done would have to be the trigger for the t̯íyal and t̯í:t̯o pronouns. But these pronouns refer to the victims, including the person who had described the events to the speaker. (48) Logophoricˉuse: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. ’do: t̯íyal ma: yhé-t̯-a’-ya-w. quot r.pl.patient stuff do-multiple.event-imprf.pl-passive-prf ma: yhé-’-ya-w. T̯í:t̯o r.sg.patient stuff do-imprf.pl-passive-prf ‘Aˉlotˉofˉthingsˉwereˉdoneˉtoˉthem. Thingsˉwereˉdoneˉtoˉher.’

Passivization in Central Pomo appears to have none of the syntactic effects typical of passivization in other languages, even in the two constructions that could possibly reflect evidence of a subject category, namely the imperfective aspect suffixes and the cross-clause reflexives.

5.  The functions of passives The close association between subjects and passives cross-linguistically is not surprising, given their usual ranges of functions. Comrie writes: The prototype of subject represents the intersection of agent and topic, i.e., the clearest instances of subjects, cross-linguistically, are agents which are also topics (1989: 107).

Passivization would indicate a shift in topic away from the semantic agent toward the semantic patient. There has been considerable discussion of whether the primary function of passives is to demote non-topical semantic agents out of subject status, or to promote topical semantic patients into subject status. Givón explains that passives with both functions exist, and this difference defines the main typological split between kinds of passive constructions. The main typological features that distinguish promotional from nonpromotional passive clauses is the presence vs. absence, respectively, of profound re-adjustment in grammatical relations – thus in overall syntactic structure – in the passive clause, relative to the direct-active clause. (Givón 2001.II: 127)

He sees the primary function of passives as agent demotion. As suggested above and following Shibatani (1985), the prototypical passive voice is used primarily for agent suppression or de-topicalization. The fact that a nonagent argument – most commonly the patient – is then topicalized is but the default consequence of agent suppression. (Givón 2001.II: 125)

 Marianne Mithun

He outlines the characteristics of the prototypical non-promotional passive as follows (2001.II: 128). Main feature a. The non-agent topic of passive does not undergo full promotion to subjecthood, but rather retains its characteristic active-clause grammatical role. Associated features b.  The agent/subject of the active is typically missing. c.  Consequently, the syntax of the passive clause tends to resemble that of the direct-active. d.  There is no restriction on the non-agent case roles that can become the topic of the passive. e.  Consequently, passivization can also apply to intransitive verbs. Central Pomo passives fit this profile perfectly. They result in the elimination of the agent from the clause, but no promotion of the patient or any other argument. Various motivations have been observed behind speakers’ choices of agentdemoting passives, some semantic, some pragmatic, and some syntactic. (49) Motivationsˉforˉagentˉdemotion Theˉagentˉmayˉbeˉgeneric. Theˉagentˉmayˉbeˉunknownˉorˉirrecoverableˉ(Givónˉ2001). Theˉagentˉmayˉbeˉunimportant.ˉ(Givónˉ2001) Theˉagentˉmayˉbeˉpredictableˉandˉstereotypical.ˉ(Givónˉ2001). The speaker may wish to avoid assigningˉresponsibility (Shibatani 1985,ˉ1988). Theˉspeakerˉmayˉwishˉtoˉpreserveˉtopicality. Theˉlanguageˉmayˉhaveˉsyntacticˉrestrictionsˉonˉclauseˉcombiningˉthatˉareˉ controlledˉbyˉsubjects.

All of these semantic and pragmatic motivations can be seen in uses of the Central Pomo passive construction, except for the syntactic ones. 5.1  Semantic and pragmatic motivations Some uses of the Central Pomo passive involve generic agents. (49) Genericˉagent: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Ts’dá ’el ké:-t̯-a’-ya-w skin the clean.with.knife-multiple.event-imprf.pl-passive-prf ‘Theˉskinˉisn’tˉpeeledˉoffˉwithˉaˉknife.’

t̯hi-n. not-imprf.sg

When generic agents are eliminated from the clause by passivization, the result can be a focus on the activity described by the verb, rather than on a particular participant. For this reason, passives are often used to name activities.



Does passivization require a subject category? 

(50) Passiveˉtermsˉforˉactivities: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Hínt̯il ma: yhé-t̯a-’-ya-w Indian things do-multiple.event-imprf.pl-passive-prf Indian things beingˉdone me:-ném-a-w khé dance kicking-set-passive-prf dance beingˉdanced ma: wéyya ma: yhé-t̯a-’-ya-w meṭ’ things sacred things do-multiple.event-imprf.pl-passive-prf that.kind such things sacred things beingˉdone dá:’-du-w t̯hí-n. want-reflexive-imprf.sg-prf not-imprf.sg like not ‘Indianˉcelebrations, powˉwowˉdances, sacredˉthings,ˉsacredˉdoings, heˉdidn’tˉ likeˉthatˉkindˉofˉthing.’

Some uses of passives involve unknown or irrecoverable agents. The sentence in (51) was uttered while the speaker was looking at baskets displayed on her wall. (51) Unknownˉagent: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Bal ’el kay ’é:y dó:-’-ya-w this the too where make-imprf.pl-passive-prf čhó-w. ’a: ph-yá:q’ 1sg.agent visually-recognize not-prf ‘Iˉdon’tˉknowˉwhereˉthisˉoneˉwasˉmade.’

The agent may be unimportant. (52) Unimportantˉagent: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. [Theirˉhouseˉwasˉcloseˉtoˉthisˉroad.] Mí-l ṭéč’ that-at stick mu:l ’doma mí: ’do: bal čá:č’ ’bú-m-a-w that hearsay there hearsay this person bury-coll.agent-passive-prf ‘Alongsideˉofˉit theyˉsayˉaˉlotˉofˉburiedˉpeople maqó-t̯-a:q’-a-w. find-multiple.event-distr-passive-prf wereˉdiscovered.’ ‘Theyˉdiscoveredˉaˉlotˉofˉpeopleˉburiedˉ(alongsideˉofˉtheˉroad).’

The agent may be stereotypical, like the water that washed dirt off the hill.

 Marianne Mithun

(53) Stereotypicalˉagent: SalomeˉAlcantra,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Má: ’=danó ’el s-kél-t̯-a-w land copula-mountain the by.liquid-clean-multiple.event-passive-prf t̯’a: mu:l. feel that ‘Thatˉhillˉlandˉwasˉwashedˉaway, Iˉguess.’

Passives allow speakers to avoid identification of agents. (54) Avoidanceˉofˉagentˉidentification:FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. [“Whenˉyouˉcomeˉintoˉtheˉschoolyard,ˉdon’tˉspeakˉIndianˉanyˉmore”,ˉsheˉ [theˉteacher]ˉtoldˉme.] Mu:l mt̯o ša-č’ó:-ya-w=’khe. that 2sg.patient swinging-whip-passive-prf=future ‘You’llˉgetˉwhipped.’

Of course these motivations are not necessarily discrete. 5.2  Syntactic motivations A number of languages have requirements of coreference among subjects in clausecombining constructions. In such languages, passivization can serve to promote the semantic patient of a clause to subject status so that the clause can be conjoined with another with a coreferential subject. Such a language might not permit sentences like He made them angry and they chased him away, but permit He made them angry and (he) was chased away. There are no coreference requirements in Central Pomo. Combined clauses may or may not share arguments, whether or not the linking dependency markers portray them as elements of the same event or as different events. Passivization is thus not used to satisfy formal requirements of subject coreference. The intransitive clauses in (55) are translated with different subjects: ‘they’ and ‘he’. The passivization of the second clause, ‘and then he’ll be chased out of here’, actually results in the elimination of an agent argument that would be coreferential with the agent of the first clause ‘they’ll talk like that’. Interestingly, the ‘same’ dependency marker was used, indicating that the two clauses are portrayed as elements of a single event. (55) Differentˉsubjects: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Mé:n lów-ač’-hi ’e mu:l, so multiple.talk-imprf.pl-same.irrealis copula that qów=yo-:ka-m-a-w=’khe. out=go-causative-collective.agency-passive=future ‘They’llˉtalkˉlikeˉthat andˉthenˉhe’llˉbeˉchasedˉoutˉofˉhere.’



Does passivization require a subject category? 

As seen earlier, though relative clauses are not a major construction in Central Pomo, there are no restrictions on the argument structure of their closest counterparts. 5.3  Discourse motivations There is of course a reason why formal requirements of subject coreference between combined clauses develop in languages. It is related to the essential function of subjects described earlier: the notion that subjects are essentially grammaticalized topics, ‘what the sentence is about’ (Comrie 1989: 64). Speakers are more likely to combine sentences that share the same topic, the same point of departure. Though we have seen very little evidence of a formal subject category in Central Pomo, either in coding or behavior, we can see the use of passivization to manage discourse coherence, by ensuring that topical participants maintain a prominent grammatical position in the clause, in many cases by eliminating a potential competitor, the agent, from the clause. The passage in (56) below occurred near the beginning of a story about two fish who decided to play a game. The passive in the first sentence serves to focus attention on the activity of playing by eliminating the agent players from the clause. The passive in the second serves to turn attention to one of the fish, establishing him as a topic, by eliminating the agent, the winning fish, from the clause. (56) Topicalization: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Mé:n mu:l bal qaló-’č-a-w. so that this gamble-inceptive-passive-prf ṭ’á:ṭ’o=ya ’dóma ’úda:w, čh-léy-a-w. one=topic hearsay lots gambling-exhaust-passive-prf ‘Soˉthenˉtheyˉstartedˉtoˉplay.ˉ(Soˉthenˉgamblingˉwasˉbegun.) Oneˉofˉthem,ˉ theyˉsay,ˉwasˉgettingˉbeatenˉaˉlot.’

In the passage in (57), the white people were explicitly introduced as the agents of the first matrix clause in the third line. If this clause had been passivized, they could not have been mentioned at all. In the following line, the matrix clause was passivized and the white people, the agents, were eliminated entirely, shifting the topic to the old man, the only remaining argument. (57) Topicalization: FrancesˉJack,ˉspeakerˉp.c. Čá:’-yem ’el, man-old the ’doma dá:=wi wá-:da-n mú:t̯u hearsay road=in walk-imprf.sg-as.same.realis 3sg.patient masá:n=ya. ph-yá-t̯-aq-t̯a-m visually-recognize-me-distr-me-collective.agency white=topic

 Marianne Mithun

Dá:=wi wá-:n=da mú:t̯u road=in go-imprf.sg=different 3sg.patient čhmá:-č-ka-ya-w, sit.on-inch-causative-passive-prf khá:r=wi čhmá:-č-ka-ya-w. car=in sit.on-inch-causative-passive-prf ‘Thisˉoldˉman wasˉwalkingˉalongˉtheˉroadˉand someˉwhiteˉpeopleˉ recognizedˉhim. Asˉheˉwasˉwalkingˉalongˉtheˉroad,ˉheˉwasˉofferedˉ aˉride; heˉwasˉinvitedˉtoˉgetˉintoˉtheˉcar.’

The white teenagers continued to play a peripheral role in the ensuing account: ‘He rode. And then after he got home, he said to the young people, “You people don’t know how to drive a car right. Hold your wheel and turn it slowly. Not fast.” ’ The story was really about the old man, not the white teenagers. The use of passivization served to eliminate the teenagers from competition for topic status. Passivization is used for another discourse purpose in Central Pomo. It appears in a kind of couplet construction, in which important ideas are presented twice, in adjacent lines pronounced with similar prosody. The two lines typically differ only slightly in form. A lexical item in one may be replaced by a synonym in the other. Constituent order may be rearranged. Often, one line contains an active clause and the other contains its passive counterpart, as in (58). (58) CentralˉPomoˉactive/passiveˉcouplet: FlorenceˉPaoli,ˉspeakerˉp.c. mu:l masá:n; Bá: ph-t̯’a: someone visually-sense that steal masá:di-ya-w min t̯’a:. steal-passive-prf like sense ‘Iˉthoughtˉsomebodyˉstoleˉit; Iˉthoughtˉitˉwasˉstolen.’

Such couplet structures occur in both formal oratory and colloquial conversation. Similar structures are found in languages indigenous to many areas of the Americas. 6.  Conclusion It was observed at the outset that passives are usually described in terms of the category of subject: they shift subject status from the semantic agent of a clause to a patient or other argument. We might accordingly expect that languages without a robust subject category should lack passives. A cursory survey of such languages in North America indicates that this is indeed generally the case. Languages of the Caddoan, Muskogean, Iroquoian, and Siouan families, as well as isolates Tunica,



Does passivization require a subject category? 

Euchee, and Haida, all show agent/patient or active/stative organization in their core argument marking, and they lack prototypical passives (Mithun 2008). The closest counterparts of passives in these languages are impersonal agent constructions, where the agent is specified by an indefinite agent pronoun meaning ‘one’ or ‘they’. These constructions permit the backgrounding or defocusing of the semantic agent, but there is no change in argument structure. Languages of the Pomoan family, however, illustrated here with material from Central Pomo, show that the correlation is not exceptionless. They exhibit at best only marginal evidence of a subject category, but they contain a robust construction that is typically translated as a passive. The construction alters argument structure by eliminating the grammatical agent from the clause, but has none of the other syntactic effects expected of passives. It does not promote arguments to subject status. There is no shift in pronominal shape or case marking: grammatical patients remain coded as patients, and obliques as obliques. There is no change in the trigger of number agreement: imperfective marking continues to reflect agent number, and the collective agency and distributive agency markers continue to reflect features of agents. The syntactic use of cross-clause reflexive pronouns continues to be triggered by agents as well. Syntactically, the construction is a non-promotional passive. It simply eliminates one argument from the clause, the agent. Despite the lack of a subject category in Central Pomo, the passive construction is ubiquitous in speech. It serves the same kinds of semantic, pragmatic, and discourse functions as passives in many other languages. It eliminates mention of generic, unknown, irrecoverable, unimportant, predictable, stereotypical, and non-topical agents. A minor correlation has emerged between the absence of a robust subject category and the place of the passive in the grammar of Central Pomo. The Central Pomo passive is not exploited for purely formal syntactic purposes, such as ensuring that conjoined clauses have coreferential subjects, or that the shared argument of a relative clause be a subject. The density of passives in spontaneous Central Pomo speech indicates, however, the semantic, pragmatic, and discourse effects of the construction are more than sufficient to justify its central place in the grammar.

Abbreviations distr inch imprf me pl

Distributive Inchoative Perfective aspect Multiple event Plural

prf q r sg

Perfective Interrogative Cross-clause reflexive Singular

 Marianne Mithun

References Andrews, A. 2007. The major functions of the noun phrase. Language typology and syntactic description I: 132–223. Boas, F. & E. Deloria 1939. Dakota Grammar. Memoirs of the National Academy of Sciences XXIII. Chafe, W. 1990. Uses of the defocusing pronominal prefixes in Caddo. Anthropological Linguistics 32: 57–68. Chomsky, N. 1965. Aspects of the Theory of Syntax. Cambridge MA: The MIT Press. Comrie, B. 1976. Aspect. Cambridge: CUP. Comrie, B. 1983. Switch-reference in Huichol: A typological study. In Switch-reference and Universal Grammar, J. Haiman & P. Munro (Eds), 17–38. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Comrie, B. 1988. Passive and voice. In Passive and Voice, M. Shibatani (Ed.), 9–24. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Comrie, B. [1981]/1989. Language Universals and Linguistic Typology. Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press. Enrico, J. 2003. Haida Syntax. Lincoln NB: University of Nebraska Press. Givón, T. 2001. Syntax. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Haas, M.R. 1941. Tunica. In Handbook of American Indian Languages, 4:  1–143. New York NY: J.J. Augustin. Keenan, E. 1976. Towards a universal definition of ‘subject’. In Subject and Topic, C. Li (Ed.), 305–333. New York NY: Academic Press. Linn, M. 2001. A Grammar of Euchee (Yuchi). Ph.D. dissertation, University of Kansas. Keenan, E. & Comrie, B. 1977. Noun phrase accessibility and Universal Grammar. Linguistic Inquiry 8: 63–99. Keenan, E. & Dryer, M. 2007. Passive in the worlds languages. Language typology and syntactic description I: 325–61. Martin, J. 2004. A Grammar of Creek (Muskogee). MS, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg VA. Mithun, M. 1990. Third Person Reference and the Function of Pronouns in Central Pomo Natural Speech, International Journal of American Linguistics 56: 361–376. Mithun, M. 1991a. When grammaticization is superfluous. In Approaches to Grammaticalization, Vol. 2, B. Heine & E. Traugott (Eds), 159–184. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Mithun, M. 1991b. Active/agentive case marking and its motivations. Language 67: 510–546. Mithun, M. 1993 ‘Switch reference’: Clause linking in Central Pomo. International Journal of American Linguistics 59: 119–137. Mithun, M. 2008. The emergence of agentive systems. In The Typology of Semantic Alignment Systems, M. Donohue & S. Wichmann (Eds), 297–333. Oxford: OUP. Perlmutter, D. 1978. Impersonal passives and the Unaccusative Hypothesis. Proceedings of the 4th Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, 157–189. Radford, A. 1997. Syntactic theory and the structure of English: A minimalist approach. Cambridge: CUP. Shibatani, M. 1985. Passives and related constructions: A prototype analysis. Language 61: 820–48. Shibatani, M. 1988. Introduction. In Passive and Voice, M.  Shibatani (Ed.), 1–8. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Sturtevant, W.C. (Ed.), 1978. Handbook of North American Indians. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution.

The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy Edward L. Keenan UCLA 2007

We evaluate, for Malagasy (W. Austronesian; Madagascar), a standard observation regarding the distribution and marking of (in)definites in subject and in object position. Bare nouns naturally constitute direct objects (DOs) with an indefinite interpretation. But definite DOs are also natural, and some are marked with a preposition which also has a locative function (cf Roumanian, Spanish). Bare Ns do not occur as subjects, whereas inherently definite DPs – proper nouns, personal pronouns, demonstratives, Ns with a definite or previous mention article do. However three classes of Quantified DPs – cardinal, universal, and proportionality ones, also naturally occur as subjects. They are constructed with an apparent definite article, but their meanings in English would be called indefinite.

1.  Introduction Natural languages (NLs) present a commonly acknowledged duality with regard to the definiteness interpretation and marking of subjects and of objects: Definiteness Duality (DD) 1.  NLs generally allow direct objects to be indefinite without specific morphological marking. Definite objects may be overtly marked (Comrie 1978, 1981: Ch 6). 2.  NLs always allow definite subjects and may restrict subjects to definites W. Austronesian languages, such as Tagalog and Malagasy, are often regarded as strong instantiations of both parts of the DD. Here we assess how well Malagasy (Madagascar) conforms to the DD. Malagasy does satisfy D.1 in ways comparable to many other languages. But we also see that in general definite object marking is subject to much language particular variation involving factors other than definiteness. Regarding D.2, classical definites such as personal pronouns, proper names, and NPs built from Ns with a definite article or demonstrative occur very naturally as subjects in Malagasy. But – and this is what is new here – Malagasy

 Edward L. Keenan

allows three classes of quantified NPs to occur as subjects though their interpretation would not be considered semantically definite. To my knowledge these classes are new in the literature (though Bell 1978 and Adams and Manaster-Ramer 1988 anticipate one in Cebuano and Tagalog respectively). We use subject and (direct) object informally but we limit ourselves to simplex Ss (no proper part is a sentence) built from a single transitive verb, and we study the pattern of (in)definiteness requirements on its argument NPs. In a given language L they are normally structurally identifiable, possibly in L specific ways. (See Keenan & Stabler 2003 for a language independent definition of structurally identifiable).

2.  Direct object marking DD.1 is well illustrated in the typological literature. See Comrie 1981: Ch 6 and Lazard 1984. Below we consider a few representative examples. (1) a. Pinar kitab-i oku-du Pinar book-acc readˉpst ‘Pinarˉreadˉtheˉbook’

(Turkish: Dedeˉ1986)

b. Aytül bir kitap oku-yor Aytül one book read-prog ‘Aytülˉisˉreadingˉa/oneˉbook’ c. Aytül kitap oku-yor Aytül book read-prog ‘Aytülˉisˉreadingˉaˉbook/books’

So in Turkish the accusative marker -i forces a definite interpretation, as does Persian -râ (not illustrated). In contrast in (2) from Hebrew the object is independently definite (with ha- ‘the’) forcing the presence of the definite accusative marker et: (2) a. Ani roe yeladim ba gan I see children in+the park ‘Iˉseeˉchildrenˉinˉtheˉpark’ b. Ani roe et ha-yeladim ba gan I see acc the-children in+the park ‘Iˉseeˉtheˉchildrenˉinˉtheˉpark’

A variant of this pattern of specific interest to us, is one where definite object marking is done with a marker that functions independently as a locative or dative, as in Hindi, Spanish and Rumanian, (3, 4), (Nandris 1969):



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

(3) Cernăuţul e asezat pe malul Prutului Cernautsi is situated on bank(of)+def Pruth ‘CernautsiˉisˉsituatedˉonˉtheˉbankˉofˉtheˉriverˉPruth’ (4) a. Lăudăm pe Dumnezeu praise+1pl on God ‘WeˉpraiseˉGod’ b. N’am văzut pe cine căutam not’1sg see on person sought+1sg ‘IˉdidˉnotˉseeˉtheˉpersonˉIˉwasˉlookingˉfor’

Articles discussing definite object marking in any given language are usually quick to assert that definiteness is but one pertinent factor  – others include animacy, humanness, referent identifiability by the Addressee or Speaker, and various language specific morpho-syntactic and interpretative properties. Authors often acknowledge that they do not have an exact characterization of the conditions licensing “definiteness” marking. For example Dede 1986 notes that generic objects in Turkish optionally take  the definite accusative ending (5a) and claims that this is obligatory with plurals, (5b): (5) a. Çocuk-lar çikolata(-yi) sev-er Child-pl chocolate(-acc) like-aorist ‘Childrenˉlikeˉchocolate’ b. Bir őğretmen őgrenci-ler-i/*Ø sev-meli A teacher student-pl-acc like-must ‘Aˉteacherˉmustˉlikeˉstudents’

Equally Dede asserts that an object removed from its unmarked immediate preverbal position may take the definite accusative ending, (6). And animacy plays a role in interpretation, as in (7): (6) Bizim ev-de çay-iˉher zaman Aytül yap-ar our house-loc tea-acc always Aytül make-aorist ‘Aytülˉalwaysˉmakesˉteaˉinˉourˉfamily’ (7) Bir őˇg renci-yi ariyorum. Bulamiyorum. one student-acc I-seek. Iˉcan’tˉfindˉhim/*one ‘I’mˉlookingˉforˉaˉstudent.ˉIˉcan’tˉfindˉhim’

Omitting the accusative marking in (7) is grammatical, but then both the definite and the indefinite translations of the second S are acceptable. This pattern is unavailable with an inanimate noun (kitab ‘book’) replacing ő gˇ renci ‘student’ as

 Edward L. Keenan

they do not accept the accusative marker here and only admit both the definite and indefinite continuations. Li and Thompson 1981 illustrate definite object selection in the ba construction in Mandarin Chinese with examples like (8a,b): (8) a. tā măi-le yi-liàng chēzi 3s buy-perf one-cl car ‘S/heˉboughtˉaˉcar’ b. *tā ba yi-liàng chēzi măi–le 3s BA one-cl car buy–perf ‘S/heˉboughtˉaˉcar’

But they also give examples where a ba is licensed even though only the speaker can identify the referent of the object: (9) wŏ bă yi-jian shì wàng le 1sg BA one-cl matter forget perf ‘There’sˉsomethingˉIˉforgot’

And extending an ungrammatical S, (10a), with elements increasing the affectedness of the object can make it acceptable, (10b): (10) a. *tā bă xiăo māo ài 3s BA small cat love ‘S/heˉlovesˉtheˉkitten’ b. tā bă xiăo māo ài de yào sĭ 3s BA small cat love CSC want die ‘S/heˉlovesˉtheˉkittenˉsoˉmuchˉsheˉwantsˉtoˉdie’

And they cite several cases where independent definiteness is not sufficient to license ba: (11) *tā bă nĭ xiăng 3s BA 2sg miss ‘S/heˉmissesˉyou’

Ultimately they treat the ba + NP construction as not simply definite object marking, but as a disposal construction, as crucial in its object selection is not simply definiteness but how the referent(s) of the object is/are “handled, manipulated, … , disposed of …” (Li & Thompson 1981: 468). We see then that languages exhibit various language specific conditions on the distribution and interpretation of “definite objects”. Malagasy is no exception. A certain range of independently definite objects are overtly marked with an-, which otherwise functions as a locative preposition.



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

(12) a. Mitsangantsangana any an’ala i Soa there in’forest art Soa isˉstrolling ‘Soaˉisˉstrollingˉinˉtheˉforest’ b. Tsy ao an-trano Rabe not there at-house Rabe ‘Rabeˉisn’tˉhome’

Actor focus (AF) transitive verbs – roots prefixed with maN-, mi-, ma-, m+Ø or their causatives (initial m varies with past n and future h) obligatorily mark proper noun Themes with an-. Human proper nouns are usually built with articles such as Ra- or I-. In distinction to Tagalog there is a definite accusative pronoun series: ahy “me”, anao “you”, azy “him/her”: (13) a. Nanenjika an-dRabe1 aho pst+AF+chase acc-Rabe I ‘IˉchasedˉRabe’ b. Nanontany an’i Soa aho pst+AF+ask acc’art Soa I ‘IˉaskedˉSoa’ c. Nanenjika azy aho chased him I ‘Iˉchasedˉhim’ d. Nanenjika ahy izy chased me he ‘Heˉchasedˉme’

The use of an- with demonstrative Themes and those built from the previous mention article ilay (usually singular), is optional (Rajemisa-Raolison 1971): (14) a. Tsy mahalala (an’) io olona io aho not pres+AF+know (acc-) that person that I ‘Iˉdon’tˉknowˉthatˉperson’ b. Nisy nandray (an’) ilay sary teto was pst+AF+take (acc’) that picture pst+here ‘Someoneˉtookˉthatˉpictureˉthatˉwasˉhere’

On the other hand an- is not used with objects beginning with the definite article ny, a major restriction as ny forms nominals from Ns as well as VPs, APs, pps and adverbs.

.  The proper noun Rabe consists of the article Ra- and the adjective be “big, numerous”. The dR, in standard Malagasy orthography, is a post-alveolar voiced affricate.

 Edward L. Keenan

(15) Tsy mahalala (*an-) ny anadahin’i Soa aho not know (acc-) the brother+of+art+ Soa I ‘Iˉdon’tˉknowˉtheˉbrotherˉofˉSoa’

So an- is more like Spanish a, Rumanian pe or Hebrew et than like Turkish -i or Persian -râ. We do not find minimal pairs differing just by the presence of an-, and which differ according as the object is definite or not. Nominals with no article occur easily as objects with an indefinite, even non-referential, interpretation, but they cannot take an-: (16) Manao (*an-) farafara mahafinaritra io mpandrafitra io pres+AF+make (acc-) bed pleasing that carpenter that ‘Thatˉcarpenterˉmakesˉpleasingˉbeds’

But definite and articleless indefinite objects do differ in one structural way: the indefinites occur adjacent to the verb and cannot be separated from it by adverbs, (17b), whereas definite objects can (Rackowski & Travis 2000), (18b): (17) a. Manasa lamba matetika Rasoa wash clothes often Rasoa ‘Rasoaˉwashesˉclothesˉoften’ b. *Manasa matetika lamba Rasoa was often clothes Rasoa ‘Rasoaˉwashesˉoftenˉclothes’ (18) a. Manasa ireto lamba ireto matetika izy washes those clothes those often s/he ‘S/heˉwashesˉthoseˉclothesˉoften’ b. Manasa matetika ireto lamba ireto izy washes often those clothes those s/he ‘S/heˉoftenˉthoseˉclothesˉwashes’

Lastly we note that clausal objects are not constructed with an-: (19) Tsy mahafantatra (*an-) izay nanjo azy aho not pres+AF+know acc- what befell him I ‘Iˉdon’tˉknowˉwhatˉhappenedˉtoˉhim’ (20) Mihevitra aho (*an-) fa hisondrotra kilasy i Soa think I acc- that fut+AF+rise class art Soa ‘IˉthinkˉthatˉSoaˉwillˉpassˉtoˉtheˉnextˉgrade’

(Object complement clauses are extraposed around the subject of an AF verb). We turn now to our primary concern, the definiteness requirement on subjects.



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

3.  The definiteness of subjects DD.2 In any language inherently definite NPs such as personal pronouns, proper names, and animate demonstratives (this student) can occur as subjects. More telling are cases like Kinyarwanda (Kimenyi 1980) where subjects and objects may occur without a Determiner but but determinerless subjects are obligatorily interpreted as definite, (21a). But Theme objects may be indefinite (22), Kimenyi 1980:  59. An existential construction is used when an indefinite Agent is intended, (22). (21) a.

΄ mwáana a-ra-kir-a U Child he-pres-cry-asp ‘Theˉchildˉisˉcrying/*Aˉchildˉisˉcrying’

b. Ha-ri úmwáana ú-rir-a It- be child he+rel-cry-asp ‘Aˉchildˉisˉcrying’ (22) N-a-haa-ye úmwáana igitabo I-pst-give-asp child book ‘Iˉgaveˉa/theˉbookˉtoˉtheˉchild’

W.  Austronesian languages are commonly asserted to require that subjects (“topics”, “pivots”, … ) be definite (Schachter 1976; Katagiri 2005). Indeed Tagalog (23) seems to instantiate DD fully, requiring the Agent NP in a transitive actor focus sentence to be definite and the Theme to be indefinite. If the Theme is independently definite the verb is put in the Theme Focus (TF) form, (23b), where it is the Theme which is ang-marked. (23) a. S-um-ampal ng babae ang bata AF-slap NG woman ANG child ‘The/*aˉchildˉslappedˉa/*theˉwoman’ b. S-in-ampal ng bata ang TF-slap NG child ANG ‘A/theˉchildˉslappedˉthe/*aˉwoman’

babae2 woman

Ang-NPs have a distinctive pronoun series. In (23b) the Agent ng bata is replaceable with a pronominal form from the possessor series. No definite pronouns can replace the Theme NP in (23a). Moreover inherently definite NPs, such as demonstratives and Proper Names of people do not occur in the ng position in (23a).

.  Some recent analyses of Tagalog treat -in- as a perfective marker and treat forms like sinampal as unmarked TF forms. See Katagiri 2005 for discussion.

 Edward L. Keenan

In Malagasy adherence to DD.1 is less rigid than in Tagalog. AF Ss, (24a), do allow definite Themes, replaceable with distinctive accusative pronouns. Agent NPs in AF Ss take nominative pronouns: aho, ianao, izy. The genitive series is -ko, -nao, and -ny used both for nominal possessors and for Agents of non-AF Ss, as in Tagalog: (24) a. Nanenjika (n+an+enjika) an’ilay jiolahy aho chased past+AF+chase acc’ˉthatˉ(aforementioned) brigand 1s.nom ‘Iˉchasedˉthatˉbrigand’ b. Nenjehiko (n+enjika+ina+ko) ilay jiolahy chased past+chase+TF+1s.gen that brigand.nom ‘Iˉchasedˉthatˉbrigandˉ(Thatˉbrigandˉwasˉchasedˉbyˉme)’

Thus with regard to object definiteness Malagasy resembles Cebuano (Bell 1978; Shibatani 1988) somewhat more than Tagalog as Cebuano allows specific objects in AF Ss, though it does so by varying Theme case marker, as in (25a) (Katagiri 2005): (25) a. Miluto ang babaye ug/sa manok AF.perf+cook ANG woman a/the chicken ‘Theˉwomanˉcookedˉa/theˉchicken’ b. Giluto sa babaye ang manok TF.perf+cook gen woman ANG chicken ‘Theˉwomanˉcookedˉtheˉchicken’

4.  The definiteness of subjects in Malagasy As an aid to understanding the glosses of Malagasy expressions, we note that number is not marked on nouns or verbs; it is marked by the infix re on demonstratives and the 2nd person pronoun. The article ny combines with nouns interpreted as singular or plural indifferently. Demonstratives usually frame the noun they delimit, but the demonstrative ireo (plural of io) is fairly commonly used pre-nominally without a post-noun copy, as a plural definite article. The previous mention article ilay is most usually singular. Verbs do not agree with any argument. Subjects in Malagasy are arguments occurring as the right sister to the Predicate Phrase. They are replaceable by pronouns from the series aho, ianao, izy, … In Ss like (26a,b) there is extensive evidence, accepted by all generative grammarians, that the clause final NP is a sister to the rest of the S, which we shall theory



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

neutrally call the PredP (Predicate Phrase). For example the yes-no question particle ve immediately follows the PredP: (26) a. [Namonjy anao] ve Rabe? pst+AF+save 2s.acc ? Rabe ‘DidˉRabeˉsaveˉyou?’ b. [Novonjen-dRabe] ve ianao? pst+save+TF+Rabe.gen ? 2s.nom ‘DidˉRabeˉsaveˉyou?’

We refer to the sister of the (maximal) PredP as the subject of the S. Classical definite NPs, such as personal pronouns, proper names of people (17a), demonstrative NPs (16), and ones built with the Dets ilay and ny, occur naturally as subjects. (27) a. Mangalatra omby ilay jiolahy pres+AF+steal cow that brigand ‘Thatˉ(aforementioned)ˉbrigandˉstealsˉcows’ b. Mamirapiratra ny kintana pres+AF+shine the star ‘Theˉstarsˉareˉshining’

Further, nouns with no article do not occur as subjects, though they do very naturally as objects, (16, 17a). The negative judgments on (28a,b) are solid and uniform across speakers. As in Tagalog, Ss expressing propositions with indefinite Agents are formed with an Existential construction, as in (28c). (28) a. *Manaikitra alika pres+AF+bite dog ‘Dogsˉbite’ b. *Monina any Antsirabe miaramila pres+live there Antsirabe soldier ‘SoldiersˉliveˉinˉAntsirabe’ c. Misy miaramila monina any Antsirabe pres+exist soldier pres+live there Antsirabe ‘ThereˉareˉsoldiersˉwhoˉliveˉinˉAntsirabe’

So Malagasy appears to instantiate D.2 very well: the classical as well as language particular types of definite NPs occur naturally as subjects, and bare Ns, only interpretable as indefinites, very clearly do not. However Malagasy has several types of quantified NPs which are constructed with the definite article but take modifying quantifiers or numerical adjectives to form NPs whose meaning would be traditionally called indefinite. And these quantified NPs occur as subjects, as we see below.

 Edward L. Keenan

5.  Quantified NP subjects Adams and Manaster-Ramer [A&M-R] 1988 cite the Tagalog (29) from Bowen 1968: 13 with a subject (ang-NP) headed by isa ‘one’. They suggest that nps headed by higher numerals may be definite. (29) Tumugtog ng gitara ang isa-ng binata AF-played NG guitar ANG oneˉLinker bachelor ‘Oneˉofˉtheˉbachelorsˉstartedˉplayingˉguitar’

Partitives are “partially definite” as the set from which we choose a part is identified in context (Comrie 1981: 128). A&M-R justify the partitive translation of (29) on the grounds that the example is taken from a story about a group of bachelors, so that set is given. But they give several other examples of “one” NPs not translated as partitives. In Malagasy we find many non-partitive subjects of the form ny + Noun +  number. (30) RahaˉvaoˉtafiditraˉRabakoˉdia [CM.28] nitsanganaˉnyˉzazalahyˉanankirayˉaryˉnanomeˉazyˉny toerany  asˉsoonˉasˉenteredˉRabakoˉthen stood-upˉtheˉyoung+manˉoneˉandˉgaveˉherˉtheˉplace+his ‘AsˉsoonˉasˉRabakoˉenteredˉ(theˉbus)ˉaˉyoungˉmanˉstoodˉupˉandˉgaveˉ herˉhisˉplace’

In this text this is the only mention of the young man, so despite the presence of the “definite” article ny the phrase does not refer to a young man either previously mentioned or identifiable in context. It just means “a (or one) young man stood up”. Similarly, (31) Lasa ny ankizy anankiray gone the child one ‘Oneˉchildˉleft’

[DR.66]

Manaster-Ramer 1992 in fact cites this example to support that Malagasy subjects with the quantifier “one” can be interpreted as indefinites comparable to the Tagalog examples in [A&M-R]. And that is correct. Moreover in Malagasy the indefinite interpretation is not limited to the numeral ‘one’: (32) Tsy nandeha tany an-tsekoly ny mpianatra telo not pst+go pst+there at-school the student three ‘Threeˉstudentsˉdidn’tˉgoˉtoˉschoolˉtoday’ˉ *‘Itˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉthreeˉstudentsˉwentˉtoˉschool’

(32) is naturally understood as just giving the number that didn’t go with no implication that the three students had been previously mentioned or are identifiable



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

in some way. The school principal could assert (32) just comparing the number of students in attendance with the total enrollment. So (32) does not require that the Speaker be able to identify the absent students, and nothing in (32) suggests that the Speaker assumes that the Addressee could make such an identification. So the subject in (32) is not pragmatically definite. Malagasy does have an overt partitive construction: ny + Numeral + amin- (from) + NP[definite]. (33) ˉ…ˉaryˉatovana azy ny dimy amin’ireo valopy nampiasaina  [LP.40] ˉ…ˉandˉTF+appendedˉ(to) it the five from’those envelopes that were used ‘…ˉandˉfiveˉofˉtheˉenvelopesˉthatˉwereˉusedˉareˉappendedˉtoˉitˉ[theˉofficialˉ report]’

This example is part of a legal statute laying out what should happen if the envelopes the government sends for elections do not arrive at the voting stations in time. The plural definite article/demonstrative ireo governs the NP that determines the set of envelopes we choose from. The article ny governs the entire partitive NP, which is the subject of the predicate ‘are appended to it’. So ny does not contribute an independent definite meaning to the NP. Another example from the same source: (34) Raha tsy manolotra fehin-teny ao anatin’ny fotoana voafetra if not AF+offer response there in’the time designated

[LP.58]

anaovany izany ny iray amin’ny mpiadyˉ…ˉ for+him+to+do that the one from the litigantsˉ…ˉ ‘ifˉoneˉofˉtheˉlitigantsˉdoesˉnotˉofferˉaˉresponseˉwithinˉtheˉtimeˉallottedˉ forˉhimˉtoˉdoˉthatˉ…’

A “higher order” example, from a newspaper article is: (35) Mitangorona an-tanan-dehibe ny miaramila maro AF-concentrate in-village-big the soldier many ‘Manyˉsoldiersˉareˉconcentratedˉinˉlargeˉvillages’

[JR.103]

The article complains about the portion of the national budget devoted to the military. It emphasizes here that soldiers tend to congregate in cities (where costs are higher), and is translated by the authors themselves as Many soldiers are concentrated in the large villages. The subject NP is not being used to refer to “the many soldiers previously mentioned”, it is simply a claim about the living preferences of soldiers. So, again, “ny miaramila maro” begins with ny “the”, but the sense of the phrase is indefinite. More generally NPs of the form in (36) occur as subjects and are semantically classifiable according to properties of the Quantifier. (36) nyˉ+ˉNounˉ+ˉQuantifier

 Edward L. Keenan

5.1  Cardinality quantifiers Cardinality quantifiers include betsaka “many”, maromaro “pretty many” (but lessthan maro “many”), sasany and sasantsany “some”, vitsy “few” and vitsivitsy ‘not too many, but more than vitsy “few”) and numerals: roanjato “two hundred”, iray “one”, etc. In general they inform us about the number of objects with the Noun property which also have the Predicate property.3 Here are some textual examples of sasany ‘some’ which is cardinal in that it says that the set of objects having both the Noun property and the Predicate property is non-empty (has cardinality > 0). (37) a. Rehefa misasaka nyˉalina dia manonofy ny when half+done the night then dream the

[MF.143]

olona sasany person some ‘Someˉpeopleˉdreamˉhalfwayˉthroughˉtheˉnight’

b. Tsy mety ho sitrana mandrakizay ny aretina sasanyˉ…ˉ [MF.143] not possible fut cured always the illnesses someˉ…ˉ ‘Someˉillnessesˉcanˉneverˉbeˉcuredˉand …’ *‘Itˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉanyˉillnessesˉcanˉeverˉbeˉcured’

(37b), (32) and (34) provide a property of NPs of the form in (36) which aligns them with classical definite NPs, despite their indefinite interpretations. Namely, they naturally scope over negation tsy (the only interpretation my consultants accept with these examples). What this says is that the existence of objects with the Noun property implied by the subject NP is preserved under natural negation (and yes-no questioning). In this sense existence is logically presupposed. Compare (38a) with (38b): (38) a. (Tsy) nanatrika ny lanonana ny mpianatra maro (Not) pst+AF+attend the celebration the student many ‘Manyˉstudentsˉattended/didn’tˉattendˉtheˉcelebration’ b. (Tsy) maro ny mpianatra nanatrika ny lanonana Not many the student pst+AF+attend the celebration ‘Theˉstudentsˉwhoˉattendedˉtheˉcelebrationˉwereˉmany/notˉmany’

Both the positive and negative forms of (38a) imply the existence of many students, so that information is not in the semantic scope of negation. But in (38b) where maro functions as a (fully natural) predicate this information is under the scope of negation and the negative form of (38b) does not entail the existence of

.  The predicate in (35) is higher order in that it predicates of the set of soldiers, which is asserted to be numerous. So it is like gather or argue with each other in English.



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

many students. Most cardinal quantifiers are used naturally as predicates in Malagasy: betsaka, maromaro, vitsy, vitsivitsy, telo, … though sasany4 and its reduplication sasantsasany do not. (39) a. Telo/vitsy ny mpianatra nanatrika ny lanonana Three/few the student attended the celebration ‘Three/Fewˉwereˉtheˉstudentsˉwhoˉattendedˉtheˉcelebration’ b. *Sasany/*sasantsasany ny mpianatra nanatrika ny lanonana Some/some the student attended the celebration *Someˉwereˉtheˉstudentsˉwhoˉattendedˉtheˉcelebration

Further this use of cardinal NPs is not limited to subjects. Here are two examples from among many of such NPs as objects of Prepositions: (40) ˉ…ny fikambanana…dia tokony ho afaka manolotra ˉ…the organization…Top should fut free AF+offer

[LP.74]

mpanara-maso iray raha vitsyˉindrindra ho an’ny birao follower-eye one at least for’ the bureau fandatsaham-bato nom+drop-stone

dimy; five

‘…ˉtheˉorganizationˉshouldˉbeˉableˉtoˉofferˉatˉleastˉoneˉobserverˉperˉ fiveˉ votingˉbooths’ (41) ˉ…famoretana eo amin’ny mpifidy iray mba handatsaham-bato ˉ…oppression there at’the voter one in+order+to drop-stone ho an’ny safidy iray na hoˉan’ny mpilatsakaˉhofidina iray naˉ…ˉ for’the choice one or for’the   candidate one orˉ…ˉ

[LP.18]

‘…constraintsˉonˉaˉvoterˉtoˉvoteˉforˉaˉgivenˉchoiceˉorˉforˉaˉgivenˉ candidateˉ…’

5.2  Universal quantifiers Universal quantifiers in the format in (36) are illustrated in (42) and (43): (42) a. Mahatazana tsara io solaitra be io ve ny pres+can+see well that blackboard big that ? the

mpianatra tsirairay? student each?



‘Canˉeachˉstudentˉseeˉthatˉblackboard?’

[T3.11]

.  Sasany “some” is etymologically sasaka “half ” + ny “3.gen”. Thus (see later) it is originally a proportionality quantifier not a cardinal one which perhaps accounts for its lack of a predicative use. It does seem to have been reanalyzed as a new morpheme however since its reduplicated form has the nasal, sasantsany. The reduplicated form of sasaka is simply sasatsasaka.

 Edward L. Keenan

b. Manana zo hianatra sy handray fanabeazan [CN.10] AF+has right fut+AF+study and fut+AF+receive education

any ankizy tsirairay avy the child each each



‘Eachˉchildˉindividuallyˉhasˉtheˉrightˉtoˉstudyˉandˉtoˉreceiveˉ anˉeducation’



(43) Efa samy matahotra daholo ny olona rehetra already all fear all the person all ‘Alreadyˉallˉtheˉpeopleˉareˉafraid’

[T8.90]

A structurally different but widely used universal quantifier is given by isaka-: (44) Ankehitriny dia manana ny sekoliny avy ny isam-pokotany Today Top has the school-its each the each-fokotany  [administrativeˉunit] ‘Todayˉeachˉfokotanyˉhasˉitsˉownˉschool’ (45) ˉ…ˉefa samy nividy hena matavy ny isan-tokantrano [T8.62] the each-household ˉ…ˉalready all pst+AF+buy meat fat ‘…ˉAlreadyˉeachˉhouseholdˉhasˉboughtˉsomeˉfatˉmeat (anticipatingˉaˉcelebration)’  (46) Amin’ny fifidianana dia mandatsa-bato ny isam-batan’olona in’the elections Top drops-stone the each-trunk’person ‘Inˉelectionsˉeachˉ(legal)ˉindividualˉvotes’

5.3  Proportionality quantifiers Proportionality quantifiers are illustrated in (47) and (48). They are constructed with ny but are not of the form in (36). (47) Tsy afa-panadinana ny sivim-polo isan-zaton’ny mpianatra not free-examination the nine-ten each-hundred’of the student ‘Ninetyˉpercentˉofˉtheˉstudentsˉdidn’tˉpassˉtheˉexam’ *‘Itˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉninetyˉpercentˉofˉtheˉstudentsˉpassedˉtheˉexam’

Percentage phrases, (47), like numerals (49) and fractions (50) accept modification with ‘at least’, ‘at most’, ‘approximately’, etc.: (48) ˉ…ireo mpilatsaka  hofidina izay nahazo ahay ny folo which received at least the ten ˉ…those candidate

[LP.22]

isan-jaton’ny vato manan-kery each-hundred’of theˉvote has-force farafahakeliny, ary… at least, and…

‘…thoseˉcandidatesˉwhoˉreceivedˉatˉleastˉtenˉperˉcentˉofˉtheˉvalidˉvotes,ˉ andˉ…’



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

(49) Telopolo andro farafahakeliny ary enimpolo andro farafahelany alohan’ [CN.16] ny fe-potoana5…ˉ Thirty day at least and sixty day at most before the expiration time…ˉ ‘Atˉleastˉthirtyˉdaysˉandˉatˉmostˉsixtyˉdaysˉbeforeˉtheˉexpirationˉdate…’ (50) Tsy afa-panandinana ny roa amphatelon’ny mpianatra not free-examination the two portion+three+of ’the student ‘Twoˉthirdsˉofˉtheˉstudentsˉdidn’tˉpassˉtheˉexam’ *‘Itˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉtwoˉthirdsˉofˉtheˉstudentsˉpassedˉtheˉexam’

In [ny + Num1 + ampaha-Num2] the first numeral denotes the numerator of a fraction, the second its denominator. So ny telo ampahadimy is “three fifths”. The set we take this proportion of is presented as a possessor. (51) Tsy mianatra ny Alahady ny ankabeazan’ ny mpianatra6 not pres+AF+study the Sunday the majority’of the student ‘Mostˉstudentsˉdon’tˉstudyˉonˉSunday’ *‘ItˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉmostˉstudentsˉstudyˉonˉSunday’

A synonym of ankabeazana is ankamaroana. For “half ” we use a derivative of sasaka “half ”, as in the second conjunct of (37): (52) …tsy hitsangana intsony ny antsasaky ny malemy …not fut+AF+stand longer the half-of-the paralyzed ‘…Halfˉtheˉpeopleˉwhoˉareˉparalyzedˉwillˉneverˉstandˉagain’

[MF.143]

6.  Quantification and the scope of negation We have exhibited three types of quantified NPs – cardinal, universal, and proportional (see Keenan 1996 for a mathematically explicit definition of these classes) which occur as subjects in Malagasy. They are not semantically definite. They typically do not denote

.  “At least”, farafahakeliny, is built up from the adjective kely “little” by prefixing a weak causative (m+)aha, nominalizing that with f-, suffixing with the 3.gen clitic (compare: sasaka +ny fi sasany) and prefixing the result with fara the root for “last”. Instead of kely here one may also use ratsy “bad”, the sense being perhaps “in the worst of cases”. Similarly “at most” farafahelany is built from the adjective ela ‘long (time)’. .  Ankabeazana “majority” is felt to be derived from the adjective be “big, numerous” by prefixing a fairly non-productive causative prefix anka and then putting this verb into the circumstantial form (the one used with oblique subjects). Ankamaroany is formed similarly from maro “many”. However synchronically the verbs (m)ankabe and (m)ankamaro “make numerous” are not attested.

 Edward L. Keenan

a referent or referents which Speaker can identify or assumes Addressee can identify. They have in common that morpho-syntactically they begin with the article ny. We have however discerned one semantic property these NPs share with classical definites: namely they outscope natural negation. It is perhaps tempting to think that there is something subtly “definite” about these quantified NPs which accounts for the semantic scope facts. But a simpler account just relies on compositionality plus a natural assumption concerning the constituency of negative Ss. Given that the order of the relevant constituents in a negative S is as in (53a) we might consider the gross constituent structure to be as in (53b) or (53c). (53) a. [Negˉ+ˉPredicateˉPhraseˉ+ˉSubject] b. [Negˉ+ˉ[PredicateˉPhraseˉ+ˉSubject]] c. [[Negˉ+ˉPredicateˉPhrase]ˉ+ˉSubject]

In (53b) negation combines with a full S to form an S and thus takes both the predicate and the subject of that S within its scope. But in (53c) negation only takes the predicate phrase in its scope, not the subject. On the analysis in (53c) then quantified NP subjects in particular are not in the scope of negation, and we need not posit anything subtly definite about their meaning. And we think that (53c) is the natural structure. It is in fact rare that natural negation in a language is unequivocally sentential in nature. Semantically, individual denoting NPs (singular pronouns, proper nouns, demonstratives, etc.) commute with negation rendering the analyses in (53a,b) logically equiivalent. For example, Mary doesn’t like John anymore, in which John is clearly in the syntactic scope of negation, is logically equivalent to John is such that Mary doesn’t like him anymore. So removing John from the scope of negation does not change semantic interpretation. That said, “sentential” negation is commonly placed with respect to the main or auxiliary verb (Payne 1985), not the S as a whole. This is so in English in which (54a,b), like their Malagasy counterparts, are not logically equivalent. (54) a. Twoˉthirdsˉofˉtheˉstudentsˉdidn’tˉanswerˉquestionˉ6ˉcorrectly b. Itˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉtwoˉthirdsˉofˉtheˉstudentsˉansweredˉquestionˉ 6ˉ correctly

In a situation in which exactly 100 students took the exam and exactly 60 of them missed question 6, (54a) is false but (54b) is true. Similarly (55a) and (55b) are not logically equivalent in English. (55) a. Exactlyˉhalfˉtheˉstudentsˉdidn’tˉanswerˉquestionˉ6ˉcorrectly b. Itˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉexactlyˉhalfˉtheˉstudentsˉansweredˉquestion 6ˉ correctly

Further support that the semantic scope of negation is just PredP is that the combination of negation and negative polarity items normally just frame the PredP. And (57a,b) show that coordinate subjects outscope negation like quantified NPs.



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

(56) Tsy milalao baolina intsony/ mihitsy Rabe not play ball longer at+all Rabe ‘Rabeˉnoˉlongerˉplaysˉball/doesn’tˉplayˉballˉatˉall’ (57) a. Tsy afa-panadinana I Bao sy (I) Soa not free-examination art Bao and (art) Soa ‘BothˉSoaˉandˉBaoˉdidˉnotˉpassˉtheˉexam’ *‘Itˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉbothˉpassedˉ(maybeˉjustˉoneˉfailed)’ b. Tsy madio ny rano sy ny trano not clean the water and the house ‘Bothˉtheˉwaterˉandˉtheˉhouseˉareˉnotˉclean’ *‘Itˉisˉnotˉtheˉcaseˉthatˉbothˉtheˉwaterˉandˉtheˉhouseˉareˉclean’

Secondly, there is a natural and very commonly used way to include the subject under the scope of negation, namely, with a cleft structure: (58) a. Rabe no niala Rabe foc left ‘ItˉwasˉRabeˉwhoˉleft’ b. Tsy Rabe no niala not Rabe foc left ‘Itˉwasn’tˉRabeˉwhoˉleft’ c. Rabe ve no niala? Rabe ? foc left? ‘WasˉitˉRabeˉwhoˉleft?’

The clefted constituent, Rabe, carries negation in (58b) and the question particle ve precedes the focus particle no in (58c) supporting that Rabe, which binds the subject, functions as a predicate (Paul 2001). All three Ss in (58) imply that someone left; they differ in asserting, denying, or questioning that it was Rabe. That negation forms a constituent with the predicate is further supported by the fact that the predicate following no may also be negated (59a,b4): (59) a. Tsy ny manam-boninahitra rehetra no tsy mahay, fa…[JR.Ch 35] not the have-honors all foc not pres+AF+able, but…ˉ ‘ItˉisˉnotˉALLˉofficersˉwhoˉareˉnotˉable,ˉbutˉ…’ b. Rabe fotsiny no tsy nahazo valisoa Rabe only Foc not pst+receive recompense ‘ItˉwasˉonlyˉRabeˉwhoˉdidn’tˉreceiveˉanyˉrecompense’

Now comparing (60a,b) we see that ‘all the students’ outscopes negation in the unmarked (60a), but it is under the scope of negation in the clefted (60b), as expected.

 Edward L. Keenan

(60) a. Tsy afa-panadinana ny mpianatra rehetra not free-examination the student all ‘Allˉtheˉstudentsˉdidn’tˉpassˉtheˉexam’ b. Tsy ny mpianatra rehetra no afa-panadinana not the student all foc free-examination ‘Itˉwasn’tˉallˉtheˉstudentsˉwhoˉpassed’ˉ(atˉleastˉsomeˉfailed)

Further, gerundive type nominalizations (Ntelitheos 2006) of PredPs, formed by prefixing f- to the circumstantial form of the verb (the form it takes when a semantic oblique such as Benefactee or Instrument is subject) naturally include negation: (61) a. ny tsy fitiavan-dRabe an-dRasoa the not nom+love-Rabe.gen acc-Rasoa ‘Rabe’sˉnotˉlovingˉRasoa’ b. Tsy mamboatra lalana izy ireo noho ny not repair roads 3+dem.pl because the

tsy fisian’ny fitaovana not nom+exist’of the means

‘Theyˉdon’tˉrepairˉtheˉroadsˉbecauseˉofˉtheˉlackˉofˉ(non-existenceˉof) ˉmeans’ c. Azon’ny Fitsarana … ambara ny tsy fahafahan’ny Filohan’ny can’by+the Court … declared the not nom+able’the head’the

ˉ

Repoblika miasa… Republic work…

‘TheˉConstitutionalˉCourtˉmayˉdeclareˉtheˉincapacityˉ ofˉtheˉheadˉofˉtheˉRepublicˉtoˉwork…’

CN.18]

(61a,b,c) give us a clue as to why quantified NPs may lack a definiteness interpretation even though they are introduced with the “definite” article ny. In (61) the negator tsy is part of what is nominalized, supporting that ny occurs as part of the nominalization, not as an independent marker of definiteness. In these examples ny cannot be replaced for example by the previous reference marker ilay or a demonstrative, like io. But when ny introduces a nominal consisting solely of an N or another one place predicate such as an adjective, it is naturally interpreted as definite: (62) a. Nandositra haingana ny mpangalatra pst+AF+flee quickly the thief ‘Theˉthiefˉfledˉquickly’ b. Fidio ny mena (fa tsy ny manga) choose+TF+Imp the red (one(s)) (but not the blue (one(s)) ‘Chooseˉtheˉredˉone,ˉnotˉtheˉblueˉone’



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

These examples show that we were not simply mistaken in treating ny as a definite article. But its use in quantified NPs seems more like the use of the definite article in French (63a) or English (63b) where it is better interpreted as part of the nominalization: (63) a. La plupart /La moitié /Le quart des élèves n’ont/ The majority /the half /the quarter of+the students neg’have/

n’a pas répondu neg’has neg answered



‘Most/Half/Aˉquarterˉofˉtheˉstudentsˉdidn’tˉanswer’

b. Theˉvastˉmajorityˉofˉ(the)ˉstudentsˉdon’t/*?doesn’tˉsupportˉtheˉdraft

(Thanks to Vincent Homer for discussion of the French data). In both languages plural agreement with élèves/students is natural (and strongly preferred in English) despite a formally singular Determiner (La “the”). And in both (63a,b) neither the speaker nor the addressee are expected to be able to identify the majority (the half, the quarter) in question. Lastly, embedded questions, constructed with the nominalizer izay, also occur naturally as subjects. (64) a. Tsy azoko izay lazain-dRabe not receive+TF+1s.gen what say+TF+Rabe.gen ‘Iˉdon’tˉunderstandˉwhatˉRabeˉsays’ b. Fantatrao ve izay nanjo azy? know+TF+2s.gen ? what pst+happenˉ(to) him? ‘Doˉyouˉknowˉwhatˉhappenedˉtoˉhim?’

So independently of ny Malagasy has a nominalizing morpheme, izay, which builds nominals that may occur as subjects (as well as objects, (19)).

7.  Conclusion Malagasy satisfies D.2 to a reasonable extent, but not perfectly. Bare nouns, which occur prolifically as objects with an indefinite interpretation do not occur at all as subjects. Personal pronouns, proper nouns, and NPs of the form Det + N + (Det) are classical definites in Malagasy and occur with complete naturalness as subjects. But properly quantified NPs – ones with cardinality, universal, or proportional quantifiers – are formed with a nominalizing use of the definite article and occur naturally as subjects though their meaning is indefinite. We simply don’t know how this usage compares with other languages in which subjects have been claimed to be definite, as commonly the claims are just illustrated with the simple

 Edward L. Keenan

cases of definites we have cited above. The Malagasy data then suggest that claims that subjects are definite may have to be in general restricted to DPs that are not quantificational and not nominalizations. So more empirical typological work is needed.

Source texts [CM] Razafindrabe, Michel, Xavier Ralahatra and Elisabeth Ravaoarimalala. 1993. Cours de Malgache pour les Etrangers. Editions Ambozontany, Antananarivo. [CN] Lalampanorenan’ny Repoblikan’i Madagasikara. [no date] Constitution of the Republic of Madagascar. Foi et Justice BP 3832. Antananarivo. [JR] Jedele, Thomas P.  and Lucien Em. Randrianarivelo. 1998. Malagasy  Newspaper Reader. Dunwoody Press, Kensington, Maryland, USA. (Selections from October 1992 to November 1995). [LP] Lalampifidianana. 1992. The Electoral Code. [MF] Rabearivelo Athanase. 1976. Le Malgache Facile La Librairie de Madagascar. [T3] Rakotondranaivo, André 1985–86. Fiarahamonina. Editions Ambozontany, Fianarantsoa. (A school reader) [T4–5] Ratsimaholy, Francinet. 1993. Tsangana (4th and 5th year school reader). Roneo. [T8] Rakotonjanahary, Benoit et al. (Eds). 1987. LohaRano. Editions Ambozontany, Fianarantsoa. (An 8th grade reader)

References Adams, K.L. & Manaster-Ramer, A. 1988. Some questions of topic/focus choice in Tagalog. Oceanic Linguistics 27: 79–101. Arka, I.W. & Ross, M. (Eds), 2005. The Many Faces of Austronesian Voice Systems [Pacific Linguistics]. Canberra: Australian National University. Bell, S. 1978. Two differences in definiteness in Cebuano and Tagalog. Oceanic Linguistics 17: 1–9. Bowen, J.D. (Ed.). 1968. Intermediate Readings in Tagalog. Berkeley CA: University of California Press. Carnie, A. & Guilfoyle, E. (Eds), 2000. The Syntax of Verb Initial Languages. Oxford: OUP. Comrie, B. 1978. Definite and animate direct objects: a natural class. Linguistica Silesiana 3: 13–21. Comrie, B. 1981. Language Universals and Linguistic Typology. Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press. Dede, M. 1986. Definiteness and referentiality in Turkish verbal sentences. In Studies in Turkish Linguistics, D.I. Slobin & K. Zimmer (Eds), 147–163. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. [DR] Domenichini-Ramiaramanana, Bakoly. 1976. Le malgache. Essai de description sommaire. Paris: SELAF. Katagiri, M. 2005. Voice, ergativity and transitivity in Tagalog and other Philippine languages: A typological perspective. In Arka & Ross, 153–175.



The definiteness of subjects and objects in Malagasy 

Keenan, E.L. 1996. The semantics of determiners. In The Handbook of Contemporary Semantic Theory, S. Lappin (Ed.), 41–63. Oxford: Blackwell. Keenan, E.L. & Stabler, E.P. 2003. Bare Grammar. Stanford CA: CSLI. Kimenyi, A. 1980. A Relational Grammar of Kinyarwanda. Berkeley CA: University of California Press. Li, C.N. & Thompson, S.A. 1981. Mandarin Chinese. Berkeley CA: University of California Press. Lazard, G. 1984. Actance variations and categories of the object. In F. Plank, 269–293. Manaster-Ramer, A. 1992. Malagasy and the topic/subject issue. Oceanic Linguistics 31(2): 267–279. Nandris, G. 1953. Colloquial Rumanian. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Ntelitheos, D. 2006. The Morpho-Syntax of Nominalizations: A Case Study. Ph.D. dissertation, UCLA. Payne, J. 1985. Negation. In Language Typology and Syntactic Description, Vol. 1, T.  Shopen (Ed.), 197–242. Cambridge: CUP. Paul, I. 2001. Concealed pseudo-clefts. Lingua 111: 707–727. Plank, F. 1984. Objects. New York NY: Academic Press. Rackowski, A. & Travis, L. 2000. V-Initial languages: X or XP movement and adverbial placement. In A. Carnie & E. Guilfoyle, 117–141. Rajemisa-Raolison, R. 1971. Grammaire Malgache. Ambozontany, Fianarantsoa. Schachter, P. 1976. The subject in Philippine languages: Topic, actor, actor-topic or none of the above? In Subject and Topic, C.N. Li (Ed.), 491–518. New York NY: Academic Press. Shibatani, M. 1988. Voice in Philippine languages. In M. Shibatani (Ed.), 85–142. Shibatani, M. 1988. Passive and Voice. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

Without aspect* Maria Polinsky

Harvard University This paper presents and analyzes the encoding of aspect in Heritage Russian (HR), an incompletely acquired language spoken by those for whom another language became dominant at an early age. The HR aspectual system is distinct from the baseline. Aspectual distinctions are lost due to the leveling or loss of morphological marking. As a result, heritage speakers often maintain only one member of a former aspectual pair. Such HR verb forms are underspecified for aspect. To compensate for that, heritage speakers regularly express aspect through the use of analytical forms with the light verbs ‘be’, ‘become’, ‘do’. The frequent occurrence of these forms supports the notion that aspectual distinctions are universal, belonging with the conceptual representation of events. What varies is the actual linguistic encoding of these distinctions, but not the underlying distinctions themselves.

1.  Introduction1 The goal of this paper is to bring together old and new. On the side of the old, I will revisit some issues in the study of Russian aspect, mostly reiterating what

*I am honored to be included in the celebration of Bernard Comrie’s distinguished career.

When I started working on incomplete acquisition about ten years ago, Bernard was one of the few people who was always willing to hear about the unseemly quirks of heritage languages. His own work on aspect has been a major inspiration for this study. Happy birthday to a wonderful friend! .  This paper owes a great deal to Hana Filip, whose insightful comments and general encouragement have made me think of some larger issues related to the grammar and meaning of aspect. I am also grateful to Bernard Comrie, Grev Corbett, Michael Flier, Lenore Grenoble, Gaby Hermon, Olga Kagan, Robert Kluender, Beth Levin, Hazel Pearson, David Perlmutter, Keith Plaster, and Ekaterina Protassova for their comments and suggestions. All errors are my sole responsibility. The following abbreviations are used throughout the paper: acc–accusative; impf–­ imperfective; inf–infinitive; nom–nominative; perf–perfective; pl–plural; sg–singular; unm– unmarked.

 Maria Polinsky

has already been proposed in the relevant literature. As for the new, I will address issues of incomplete acquisition, a phenomenon whose relevance for linguistic description and theory has been steadily on the rise. Incomplete, or interrupted, acquisition is represented by heritage speakers, who only recently have been recognized as a group separate from those bilinguals for whom one language is strongly dominant. In the last decade, heritage speakers have come to the fore in a number of fields, from language teaching (Kagan & Dillon 2001; Bermel & Kagan 2000; Geisherik 2005) to sociolinguistics (Andrews 1998; Fenyvesi 2005; Seliger and Vago 1991, among many others) to general linguistics (Dorian 1989; Seliger & Vago 1991) and psycholinguistics (Sorace 2004; Tsimpli et al. 2004; Montrul 2004; Montrul & Slabakova 2003). Very little is known about heritage speakers, which makes the study of particular phenomena in their language important from the standpoint of the initial data collection needed to advance our understanding of heritage languages. Aspect is an intriguing phenomenon in its own right, and heritage speakers’ control of aspectual distinctions may shed new light on its grammar and meaning. In what follows, I will first provide a general background on heritage speakers. Then I will discuss aspect in heritage Russian, and in doing so will also address some general issues relating to the grammar of aspect in Russian. To anticipate the conclusions of this paper, the aspect data presented here argue that the language system emerging under incomplete acquisition is subject to regular, systematic constraints, albeit different from what is found in the baseline language.

2.  Heritage speakers at a glance An incomplete learner, or heritage speaker, of language A is an individual who grew up speaking (or only hearing) A as his/her first language, but who later switched to another language as dominant and primary. The language (A) that a heritage speaker was exposed to as a child constitutes the baseline language. In general, heritage speakers rarely, if ever, have access to the baseline language norm through formal schooling; this means that the baseline should not be identified with the standard language available to educated and fully competent speakers of A. Rather, the baseline is the language that heritage speakers are exposed to in the home and immediate community – in the case of Russian in the USA, this communal standard happens to be closer to southern Russian than to the standard language, which reflects more central dialects (see Polinsky 2000). This proximity to southern varieties of Russian is a mere accident of demographic patterns. But even the deviation from the standard is just the beginning of a comprehensive understanding of the baseline; given that different heritage speakers receive different dialectal input in



Without aspect 

the home, their baseline may be generally more varied than the baseline assumed for competent speakers, who have been exposed to different dialects and registers and who generally have the awareness that there is a standard out there that may be different from their own speech. The general recognition that the baseline for heritage speakers may be not entirely regular leads to another important observation – one concerning the uniformity of the heritage group. There is a temptation to treat heritage speakers as a homogenous group; what seems to underlie this drive is the realization that heritage speakers are quite different from speakers of the baseline and all share the same language history: a once-used home language later supplanted by the dominant language. However, such an approach is dangerously simplistic; researchers have long-since noticed that heritage speakers do not form a homogeneous group, and should be separated into several groups. A parallel can be drawn with the lectal divisions in creole languages. For extended pidgins and creoles, it is common to distinguish a basilect, which is often identified with creole sensu stricto, a mesolect, and an acrolect, which is closest to the lexifier. Disagreements abound as to whether basilect, acrolect and mesolect form contiguous links in a creole continuum (Bickerton 1973, 1989, 1995; Rickford 1987, and many subsequent publications) or whether they should be treated as distinct entities. Regardless of this issue, no one questions the existence of these three lectal divisions. Similarly, heritage speakers can be divided into several groups, but the bases on which divisions should be made are not yet clear. Three main approaches to address the possible heterogeneity of heritage speaker populations have emerged so far. The first approach is essentially sociolinguistic in nature; under this approach, speakers are divided into groups on the basis of their actual language history, relying especially on such criteria as the age at which they switched from the home language to the dominant language, their current use of the home language (when, with whom, and how extensively), and, if applicable, their ability to read and write in the home language (cf. Yokoyama 2000; Geisherik 2005; Fenyvesi 2005). While a speaker’s language history is certainly important, there is no one-to-one correspondence between the age of interruption and proficiency (Godson 2003), and self-reporting of language history may often yield faulty data because memory, especially that of early childhood, is never perfect. The second approach designed to address the heterogeneity of heritage populations combines data from the speakers’ individual language histories with information relating to the speakers’ understanding of the baseline language in adulthood, in addition to their developmental profile. A distinction is drawn between those who were never directly addressed in the home language (“overhearers”– cf. Au & Romo 1997; Au & Oh 2005) and those who actually spoke

 Maria Polinsky

the language in the home prior to interruption by the dominant language, with further subdivisions in the latter group on the basis of their understanding of the language. This approach has proven effective in defining group boundaries in heritage populations, and has been used to separate different levels of proficiency for classroom purposes. A third approach, and one that this author very much subscribes to, advocates combining the speakers’ actual linguistic history with specific proficiency measures, such as lexical knowledge, mean length of utterance, and speech rate (Polinsky 1995, 2008). Assuming that the speech rate for the baseline is known, heritage speakers can be effectively assessed by comparing their rate to the rate for the baseline. More research is needed to determine effective measures that would establish reliable subgroups within heritage populations, but the realization that such subgroups exist is an important step in that direction. Much pedagogical effort has been directed at the more proficient heritage speakers (Valdés 2001; Bermel & Kagan 2000, etc.), but from a developmental standpoint, the less proficient groups may be equally interesting. The focus of this study is on those speakers who rank quite low on the proficiency scale, and this choice is not accidental. Assuming that incomplete acquisition is a phenomenon that needs to be distinguished from bilingualism, lower-proficiency heritage speakers provide the most promising way to determine if this distinction is real, rather than imaginary. The state of the grammar of low-proficiency speakers can be taken as representative of incomplete acquisition per se, and the differences from the baseline grammar found in the grammars of these speakers also would be expected to be more pronounced. Russian aspect is one area in which a marked distinction is evident between lower-proficiency speakers and bilinguals.

3.  Aspect in Russian: Characteristics of the baseline system The main distinction in Russian aspect is between formally perfective and imperfective verbs. However, this simple formal distinction is just the beginning – Russian aspect is encoded in many different ways, and even the meanings of each aspectual subclass are far from uniform.2 Simplifying things somewhat, aspectual distinctions are most commonly expressed by prefixes (usually deriving formally perfective verbs), as in (1b), (2b),

.  The semantic issues that arise in the domain of aspect are set aside in the present discussion; I assume that the semantics of aspect is an issue that is important, but orthogonal to my immediate concerns, and give priority to the task of defining the lexical space in which heritage speakers operate.



Without aspect 

and (3b); suffixes whose common function is to derive imperfectives, as in (4b), or perfectives, as in (5b); and combinations of prefixes and suffixes, as in (5c). (1) a. zvat’ˉ‘call’ b. po-zvat’ˉ‘callˉup’ (2) a. delat’ ‘do,ˉmake’ b. s-delat’ˉ‘do,ˉmake’ (3) a. moč’ˉ‘beˉableˉto’ b. s-moč’ˉ‘manage’ (4) a. dat’ˉ‘giveˉ(perf.)’ b. da-va-t’ˉ‘giveˉ(imperf.)’ (5) a. kričat’ˉ‘scream’ b. krik-nu-t’ˉ‘screamˉ(punctual)’ c. po-krik-iva-t’ˉ‘shoutˉregularly’

Despite morphophonemic variation, the main suffixes that encode imperfective aspect are relatively regular; they include the suffix  –  (V)va-, (e.g., (4b), (5c)), where V is the vowel conditioned by the stem, and the suffix – a- (Švedova 1982: 589–590), as in (6): (6) a. p rognat’ˉ‘chaseˉaway’ˉ(perf.) b. progon’-a-t’ˉ‘chaseˉaway’ˉ(imperf.)

The derivation of the latter type of imperfectives crucially depends on the identification of present vs. past verbal stems that are available for conjugation. As will be discussed below, the loss of conjugation in heritage Russian thus plays a major role in the restructuring of aspectual marking for these imperfectives. Finally, some aspectual distinctions are expressed via suppletion, for example: (7) a. brat’ –ˉvzjat’ˉ‘takeˉ(imperf./perf.)’ b. govorit’ –ˉskazat’ˉ‘sayˉ(imperf./perf.)’

Suppletion notwithstanding, the idea that Russian aspect can be treated as an inflectional category relies on ‘true’ aspectual pairs, which are formed in two different ways: (i) from perfective verbs by means of imperfective suffixation (cf. (6) above), or (ii) from bare imperfectives by simple prefixation, as in the aspectual pairs in (2) and (3) above. However, such a view is difficult to maintain. Aspectual prefixes3 are varied and verb class-dependent. The inventory of prefixes is a rich .  Throughout this discussion, I use the term ‘aspectual prefixes’ to refer to prefixes that play a role in encoding aspectual distinctions. However, the choice of terminology is not intended

 Maria Polinsky

and diverse system that is arguably lexical, and thus the derivation of prefixed perfective verbs is subject to lexical rules. This in turn suggests that the category of aspect in Russian is not fully grammatical – rather, it represents a mix between an inflectional and derivational system, as in fact has been proposed by many researchers (Comrie 1976; Dahl 1983; Dahl & Karlsson 1976; Filip 1999; Spencer 1991: 195, and many others). In the rich linguistic literature on Slavic aspect, the emphasis on the derivational facet of aspect often leads to a lexicalist treatment of aspect, which takes us back to the beginning of the lexical-or-grammatical debate. Much of that general discussion hinges on the following issues: (i) the derivational vs. inflectional nature of prefixes and suffixes that encode aspectual distinctions, and (ii) the relationship between grammatical aspect (perfective vs. imperfective) and event structure. Both questions address fundamental issues of lexical semantics as well as more language-specific issues of morphological structure and lexical rules. In Filip’s (1999, 2003) thorough work on Slavic aspect, the argument is made that the interpretation of aspect requires at least three ingredients: the recognition of individual classes within the homogenous predicate category, the establishment of fine-grained lexical distinctions within individual affixes (especially prefixes), and the application of morphological rules that derive individual lexical items (mainly via prefixation, which is particularly varied and suggestive of derivational, rather than inflectional, processes). The division of labor that Filip argues for is critical for the description and analysis of aspect in heritage Russian: while the conceptual distinctions are arguably stable across languages, the inventory of prefixes (a lexical subsystem) and the application of morphological rules may be more fragile under incomplete acquisition.

4.  Aspect in Heritage Russian: Expectations and main results 4.1  Some predictions In this section, I will summarize the results of both my observation of spontaneous production in heritage Russian and experiments designed to probe the expression of aspect by heritage Russian speakers. Before doing so, I would like to formulate some general predictions concerning the representation of aspect in heritage Russian. These predictions are based on the general outline of aspect sketched in the previous section. to suggest that the contribution made by these morphemes is restricted exclusively to aspectual marking.



Without aspect 

Firstly, taking as our object of interest the grammatical rather than semantic side of aspect, we do not expect the grammatical realization of aspect via the morphology of a given verb to remain unchanged in the grammar of heritage speakers. As I have previously shown, the morphology of heritage Russian is impoverished compared to the morphology of baseline Russian (see Polinsky 1995, 1997, 2000, 2006, 2008 for the loss of nominal declension classes, which lead to the restructuring of case and gender). The impoverished morphology of the verbal domain should lead to the weakening or loss of the past/present stem distinction, and this, in turn, should affect the representation of aspect. In addition, the regular suffixal derivation of imperfectives may either be lost, along with other morphological processes, or overgeneralized, as is often the case with heritage speakers, who tend to avoid irregular forms. Second, assuming that aspectual prefixes are more derivational/lexical in nature, heritage speakers should retain isolated prefixal forms, but these prefixal forms may not be integrated into a general network of prefixed perfectives derived from a particular stem, as exists in baseline Russian. In other words, for a complete learner of Russian, it is natural to form associations among derived forms of a particular verb, identifying the semantic contribution of the relevant aspectual prefixes, but a heritage speaker may lack most of these forms and thus be unable to produce, or possibly even understand, all of them. To illustrate, the associations among all of the prefixal forms of ‘cook’, as in (8), are quite straightforward for baseline speakers, but due to their more limited vocabulary, heritage speakers may not even be able to access some of the forms in (8). (8) a. -varit’ˉ‘cook,ˉboil’ˉ(impf.) b. s-varit’ˉ‘boil,ˉcook’ˉ(perf.) c. za-varit’ˉ‘brew’ˉ(e.g.,ˉtea) d. na-varit’ˉ‘cookˉaˉlargeˉquantity’ e. ob-varit’ˉ‘scald’ f. pod-varit’ˉ‘conductˉsomeˉadditionalˉboiling’ g. ot-varit’ˉ‘boil’ h. do-varit’ˉ‘cookˉasˉmuchˉasˉrequired’ i. pro-varit’ˉ‘cookˉthrough,ˉcookˉfully’ j. vy-varit’ˉ‘boilˉthrough’ k. u-varit’ˉ‘reduce,ˉpoach’ l. pere-varit’ˉ‘overcook’

Assuming the lexical nature of aspectual prefixes, heritage speakers are expected to show significant individual variation in the retention of some but not other prefixal forms. Using (8) as an illustration, speaker X could have (8a) and (8e), speaker Y (8c), speaker Z (8b) and (8g), and so on. Lexical variation is of course

 Maria Polinsky

very hard to constrain and the only apparent constraining factor may be the frequency of individual lexical items. Lastly, assuming that core aspectual distinctions such as telicity, incremental theme or measured out events are relatively stable cross-linguistically, and hence have some independence from the question of how they are expressed in a given language, one would expect that aspectual distinctions in heritage Russian would still be expressed, albeit by different morphosyntactic or lexical means from the baseline. To summarize, given the loss of morphology and the reduced lexical competence typical of heritage languages and speakers in general, it is expected that heritage Russian will lose or regularize the formation of the imperfective, will have a smaller set of prefixal perfective forms with possible variation across speakers, and will develop compensatory mechanisms for expressing general aspectual distinctions which have a conceptual basis. All of these predictions appear to be borne out, although often with interesting complications. 4.2  Morphological change in the encoding of aspect The loss of morphological distinctions in heritage Russian has multiple repercussions for the heritage verbal system. In production, heritage speakers often lack the present tense entirely, using infinitives and past tense and imperative forms instead (Polinsky 1995, 2006). As a result, the dual base distinction (perfective/ past–present) is absent from heritage Russian, which leads to the reduction of the entire verbal paradigm. Consequently, the morphological foundation of the aspectual distinction is no longer available, which in turn results in the weakening of the aspectual paradigm. In the formation of the imperfective, heritage speakers regularly use derived forms in -Vva-, which suggests that this morphological operation is active in their grammar. However, we also occasionally find forms in -Vva- that are ungrammatical in the baseline, which suggests that heritage speakers actually overgeneralize this suffix. Cf. the forms below, which are ungrammatical in the baseline: (9) vsegda on zabyvyvaet ego vešči always 3sg forgets his things ‘Heˉalwaysˉforgetsˉthings.’ (10) èti doktory otmenivajut appointments these doctors cancel ‘Suchˉdoctorsˉcancelˉappointments.’

(baselineˉzabyvaet)

(baselineˉotmenjajut)

The overgeneralization of this imperfectivizing suffix seems related to the loss of the imperfectivizing -a- (cf. (6) above), which never occurs in spontaneous production.



Without aspect 

Of course the suffix -a- is no longer productive in the baseline so it does not ‘compete’ with the more productive -Vva-, which makes it less surprising that heritage speakers overgeneralize the latter. It would be informative to conduct a systematic study of the range of application of the suffix -Vva-, but at this stage I can only offer general observations based on naturally occurring data. 4.3  Loss of aspectual pairs In addition to the overgeneralization of imperfective morphology, there are cases where heritage speakers use imperfective forms while the baseline usage requires the use of perfective forms, as in (11)–(14): (11) ja tak ustalaja ty ne veriš’ 1sg so tired 2sg not believe.impf.2sg ‘Youˉwouldn’tˉbelieveˉhowˉtiredˉIˉam.’

(baselineˉpo-veriš’)

(baselineˉsmogliˉkupit’)

(12) oni mogli kupili ètot dom 3pl be_able.3pl.impf buy.3pl.impf this house ‘Theyˉwereˉableˉtoˉbuyˉthisˉhouse.’

(13) gde ty? ja uže gotovila tebja obed (baselineˉprigotovila) where 2sg 1sg already prepared.impf 2sg.obj dinner ‘Whereˉareˉyou?ˉIˉhaveˉalreadyˉcookedˉaˉdinnerˉforˉyou.’ (14) ja ostavljala moj plašč zdes’ (baselineˉostavila) 1sg leave.imperf my coat here ‘Iˉleftˉmyˉcoatˉhere.’ˉ(theˉspeakerˉisˉlookingˉforˉherˉcoatˉinˉaˉcloakroomˉafter ˉlunch)

The opposite pattern also holds – perfectives occur in cases where the baseline requires the use of an imperfective: (15) moj deduška často porugal ego my grandfather often scold.perf him ‘Myˉgrandfatherˉoftenˉscoldedˉhim.’ (16) ona vsegda postaraetsja 3sg always try.perf ‘Sheˉalwaysˉtriesˉtoˉhelp.’

pomogat’ help.imperf.inf

(baselineˉrugal)

(baselineˉstaraetsjaˉpomoč’)

(17) ona tak bystro skazat’ ja ne vse ponimaju4 3sg so fact talk.perf 1sg not all understand ‘SheˉtalksˉsoˉfastˉIˉmissˉcertainˉthings.’

.  In addition to the difference from the baseline in terms of aspect, note that the main predicate (skazat’) appears as an infinitive, not as an inflected form.

 Maria Polinsky

In both replacement scenarios (use of the imperfective instead of the perfective, and use of the perfective instead of the imperfective) there seems to be variation across speakers. This suggests that, in at least some cases, heritage speakers retain just one member of an aspectual pair, but the actual choice of the form (perfective/ imperfective) may be rather arbitrary. In earlier work (Polinsky 1995, 2000, 2007) I entertained the idea that the retention of a particular form is determined by telicity (see also Pereltsvaig 2005, who develops this idea further). While this may still be a possibility (one that I revisit below, after the examination of aspect in verbs of motion), it is certainly not the only relevant factor in the retention of one form over another. In particular, cross-speaker variation suggests that the survival of a particular form may also be determined by lexical idiosyncrasies, rather than principled grammatical constraints. 4.4  Verbs of motion and retention of isolated prefixal forms With verbs of motion, the system of aspectual distinctions is further complicated by the contrast between unidirectional and multidirectional verbs of motion; each type has its own perfective and imperfective. For example, consider the verb ‘fly’: Table 1.  Russian verbs of motion

imperfective perfective

unidirectional

multidirectional

letet’ prefix-letet’ (e.g., uletet’)

letat’ prefix-letat’ (e.g., poletat’)

In heritage Russian, only one of the four cells in the chart above is usually represented. The following example was spontaneously produced in a frog story narrative (Polinsky 2007): (18) mal’čik i ego novyj ljaguška budet idet domoj boy and his new frog will go.impf home ‘Theˉboyˉandˉhisˉnewˉfrogˉwereˉgoingˉhome.’

In the corresponding baseline sentence, the perfective is required: (19) mal’čik s novoj ljaguškoj pošli/pojdut domoj boy with new frog went.perf/willˉgo.perf home ‘Theˉboyˉandˉhisˉnewˉfrogˉwent/willˉgoˉhome.’

In addition to idti ‘go’, seen in example (18), the following verbs of motion or position were used differently from the requirements of the baseline by the heritage speakers:



Without aspect 

(20) a. ‘jump’:ˉprygat’ˉ(imperf.)ˉinsteadˉofˉprygnut’ˉ(perf.) b. ‘sit’:ˉsidet’ˉ(imperf.)ˉinsteadˉofˉsest’ˉ(perf.)ˉ(seeˉalsoˉfn.ˉ7ˉbelow) c. ‘getˉup’:ˉvstavat’ˉ(imperf.)ˉinsteadˉofˉvstat’ˉ(perf.) d. ‘go’:ˉxodit’ˉ(multidirectional)ˉinsteadˉofˉidtiˉ(unidirectional) e. ‘run’:ˉbegat’ˉ(multidirectional)ˉinsteadˉofˉbežat’ˉ(unidirectional)

As with the other verbs discussed above, a question arises as to whether it is at all possible to predict which aspectual form is retained for each verbal concept. An even more general question concerning aspectual pairs in heritage Russian relates to the difference between production and comprehension. It is conceivable that heritage Russian speakers have problems producing a certain aspectual form, but have no problem understanding both forms and, more importantly, differentiating between them. In that case, the use of one form instead of the other becomes a simple production problem, and such problems are ubiquitous in language acquisition, decline, or aging. Below I present some preliminary experimental data which bear on this question. Before turning to these more general questions, let me return to the predictions that were outlined in the beginning of this section. As expected, heritage Russian has regularized the formation of imperfective forms (and lost the less morphologically transparent imperfective pattern in  -a-). Likewise, in keeping with the expectations outlined above, heritage Russian shows a smaller set of prefixal perfective forms, with variation across speakers. This result is not surprising under the assumption that prefixal forms belong with lexical derivations, which are severely limited in an incompletely acquired system. I will discuss the third prediction, regarding the expression of aspect, later on. 5.  Aspect in heritage Russian: Some emerging patterns In this section, I will present empirical evidence that speaks to the third prediction given above, addressing three main questions, each of which has already been mentioned in passing: (i) do the deficiencies in aspectual forms observed in heritage Russian follow from the online limitations of heritage speakers (especially those with lower proficiency), or do they reflect more fundamental properties of incomplete grammars? (ii) is there a principled explanation as to why the perfective or imperfective form of a particular verb is retained, or is such retention completely arbitrary? (iii) assuming that incomplete learners maintain the relevant conceptual distinctions between different types of events, how are these distinctions encoded in the absence of the standard aspectual machinery available to the baseline speaker? I will take up these questions in turn.

 Maria Polinsky

5.1  Speechless or aspectless? Observations of spontaneous production are insufficient to establish whether the attested aspectual deficiencies observed in heritage Russian are merely an issue of performance. With that in mind, a simple pilot experiment was conducted in which heritage speakers were presented with a forced choice between aspectual pairs consisting of a matrix verb followed by an infinitive in the perfective or imperfective. In order to understand the nature of the experiment, the reader should be aware that some matrix verbs in Russian require that the infinitive of the verbal complement appear in just one aspect but not the other; for example, ‘get tired’ requires an imperfective complement (21a), while ‘forget’ requires a perfective complement (21b): (21) a. ustat’ˉpit’/*vypit’ˉ‘getˉtiredˉofˉdrinkingˉ(imperf./*perf.)’ b. zabyt’ˉ*pokupat’/kupit’ˉ‘forgetˉtoˉbuyˉ(*imperf./perf.)’

All of the matrix verbs used for this experiment were subject-restructuring verbs, and are given in Table 2. Table 2.  Matrix verbs restricting the aspect of the complement Imperfective bias

Perfective bias

No bias control

Matrix verbs requiring the imperfective

Matrix verbs requiring the perfective

Matrix verbs that do not impose aspectual constraints on the complement

ustat’ ‘get tired’ prekratit’ ‘stop’ prodolžat’ ‘continue’

zabyt’ ‘forget’ sumet’ ‘manage’ soobrazit’ ‘realize’

xotet’ ‘want’ bojat’sja ‘be afraid’ obeščat’ ‘promise’

The embedded infinitives were chosen in such a way that their aspect was visible due to the affixal morphology (and in some cases, stem morphology as well, cf. sobrat’–sobirat’ ‘collect’). The subjects were auditorily presented with full sentences containing the congruent and the ungrammatical condition and were asked to identify the correct sentence. For the non-biased control verbs, the subjects were also given two choices. Each matrix verb was combined with ten embedded infinitives, so that each subject heard 90 sentences altogether, presented in random order. The infinitives were different for each matrix, and each lexical verb appeared only once. Thus, the subjects were presented with pairs such as the ones illustrated in Table 3. Nine subjects, all of whom were chosen based on striking similarities in their language histories and proficiency levels, participated in this experiment. Currently college students (mean age 20.8), each of the subjects was born in Russia but arrived in the USA between age 2 and 5. All reported that they did not use Russian and could not read it, but could understand when spoken to. In addition,



Without aspect 

Table 3.  Forced choice stimuli imperfective bias

perfective bias

no bias control

congruent condition

Deti ustali čitat’ rasskazy

Mal’čik sumel sobrat’ vse konfety

incongruent condition translation

*Deti ustali pročitat’ rasskazy ‘The children got tired of reading stories’

*Mal’čik sumel sobirat’ vse konfety ‘The boy managed to collect all the candy’

Vnuk obeščal navestit’ babušku Vnuk obeščal naveščat’ babušku NA ‘The grandson promised to visit his grandmother’

the subjects were tested for rate of speech in spontaneous production with a traditional frog-story task. They all had an extremely low rate of speech (43 wd/min averaged over 9 subjects), which suggests very low proficiency (Kagan & Friedman 2003; Polinsky 2008). The aggregate results of their responses to the forced choice task are shown in Figure 1.5 100 80 60

 

40 20 0

 bias

 bias

No bias

Figure 1.  Percentage correct responses to verb-verb combinations (30 sentences per category, 9 speakers)

.  The subjects performed slightly better with matrix verbs requiring a perfective complement (though the difference is not significant). In general, child language acquisition studies show that children under age 4;0 slightly favor the perfective (Stoll 2005), especially in the passive (Babyonyshev & Brun 2004), and generally have difficulty with the imperfective (Kazanina & Phillips 2003). It would be tempting to connect this child language preference for the perfective with the results of heritage language comprehension, but such a connection seems premature. Firstly, the subjects of this study were interrupted in their acquisition later than 3 years of age; secondly, the general Jakobsonian ‘last in – first out’ approach to the acquisition and retention of linguistic phenomena has been proven wrong outside incomplete acquisition (e.g., Caramazza 1994) and there are reasons to doubt its validity in heritage language as well (Polinsky 1997, 2008).

 Maria Polinsky

These are only the results of a pilot study, and further work is needed to investigate individual variation across speakers and performance on similar forced choice tasks by more proficient heritage speakers. But even without going into the details of possible individual variation, the preliminary result is striking in that the heritage speakers performed at chance. This suggests that their aspectual system is indeed different from what is found in the baseline, and that the deviations observed in spontaneous production go deeper than simple on-line production problems. 5.2  Perfective or imperfective? Let’s address the next question: what explains the maintenance of the imperfective of some verbs and the perfective of others? The emerging descriptive generalization is as follows: if only one verb is maintained in heritage Russian, then it represents the member of the aspectual pair that denotes the more common conceptualization associated with the activity designated by the verb. Supppose that if a more commonly occurring eventuality is one that has an inherent limit, then the event is conceptualized as telic, and the perfective form of the verb is more likely to be maintained. If the event is more commonly conceptualized as atelic, lacking an inherent limit, then the imperfective form is maintained.6 If indeed the more common conceptualization of a given verb is the determining factor, then the frequency of the perfective and imperfective verbs in aspectual pairs of the input language may serve as an indirect predictor of what is going to be used in heritage Russian. A sample of verb frequencies, presented in Table 4 below, shows that frequency alone does not always predict the retention of a particular form– some other mediating factors may be at work, but even if we can hypothesize what they are (salience of conceptualization, for instance), it is unclear how to formalize and quantify these intuitions. The disagreement between the frequency and retention of a particular form may be due to several additional factors. First, heritage speakers’ crucial input was provided by the child-directed speech heard in the home. It would be ideal to be in a position to rely on frequencies of the relevant verbs in child-directed speech, since these are likely to be different from the corresponding frequencies established on general adult corpora. However, there are no such statistics established for Russian, and in their absence, existing frequency data have to be used, if only as an approximation. Second, the frequency of conceptualizations may be .  I again remain neutral as to the semantic questions that arise in the context of events; my concern is rather with grammatical implementation of the relevant distinctions in heritage Russian and its relationship with folk conceptualization of events.



Without aspect 

better gleaned from type rather than token frequency, and it is the latter that is available in standard frequency dictionaries. Third, as I have shown elsewhere, frequency of input forms often plays a secondary, mediating role in heritage grammars (Polinsky 2005). Table 4.  Frequency of imperfectives vs. perfectives of certain verbs in baseline Russian (Sharoff 2001; Lönngren 1993), and the form occurring in heritage Russian (based on the frog-story narratives (Polinsky 2006b))7 Event

cry, scream call give8 become stay, stand sit take lie down look for, search find jump

baseline Russian

heritage Russian

Imperfective, frequency

Perfective, frequency

more common form

kričat’, 394 zvat’, 428 davat’, 149 stanovit’sja, 622 stojat’, 104 sidet’, 143 brat’, 419 ležat’, 1368 iskat’, 646 naxodit’, 1197 prygat’, 2994

zakričat’, 1741 pozvat’, 1950 dat’, 155 stat’, 59 (v-)stat’, 444 sest’, 343 vzjat’, 132 leč’, 259 poiskat’, 6641 najti, 234 prygnut’, 7450

kričat’ zvat’ dat’ stat’ stojat’ sidet’ vzjat’ ležat’ iskat’ najti prygat’

If the generalization concerning the way particular members of an aspectual pair are chosen for retention is on the right track, it is important to bear in mind that heritage speakers of Russian have a very different representation of aspectual forms than baseline speakers. While a heritage speaker presumably maintains the conceptual representation of telicity, this representation does not translate into a grammatical contrast. Thus, a heritage speaker may not perceive the verb they retain as grammatically imperfective or perfective. Since heritage speakers no longer have

7.  The traditional view of Russian aspect has sadit’sja – sest’ as an aspectual pair, with sidet’ as imperfective only, associated with posidet’; similarly vstavat’ pairs with vstat’ versus stojat’, and ložit’ sja pairs with leč’ versus ležat’. Although such traditional pairings cannot be completely ruled out for the heritage language, both spontaneous speech and experimentally monitored production indicate that heritage speakers make the associations between sest’ and sidet’, etc. As in other cases involving deviations from the standard, it would be counterproductive to assume aspectual pairs the way they are set in the standard, because heritage speakers have never been exposed to it. 8.  Here frequency cannot distinguish between the two.

 Maria Polinsky

the relevant morphosyntactic oppositions of baseline Russian, for them the verb dat’ ‘give’ or the verb sidet’ ‘sit’ is a lexical item without a specified aspectual value. The chance performance on the aspectual pair task discussed above (see Fig. 1) further confirms that the grammatical contrast present in the baseline language is no longer available to heritage speakers for either production or comprehension.

 e expression of aspectual meanings in heritage Russian: 5.3  Th Emergence of a new grammar The descriptive generalizations presented in the previous section raise the next set of questions. Assuming that the baseline Russian system is no longer available to heritage speakers, what means of expressing aspect are used in Heritage Russian? Aspect has a strong semantic dimension, and it may therefore remain conceptually constant even if the relevant morphosyntax used to express it is absent. Thus, while in heritage Russian the means used to express aspect may be different from those used in baseline Russian, the aspectual distinction does still exist. Instead of the fairly arcane system of affixes employed in Russian aspectual grammar, heritage Russian seems to use either a bare verb or a combination of a light verb and content verb (or other lexical category) to express aspectual distinctions. Roughly, the perfective of accomplishments and achievements is expressed using the light verbs stat’ ‘become’ and načat’ ‘begin’; these same verbs are used as perfective forms in baseline Russian, but in Heritage Russian they become the primary means of expressing perfectivity. For example, in a frog story, describing how the boy grabs the reindeer by the antlers, a speaker used the following: (22) on načinaet deržit olen’ roga he begins.impf holds.impf deer.nom horns.unm.pl ‘Heˉgrabbedˉtheˉdeerˉbyˉtheˉantlers.’ˉ(M)

The corresponding baseline sentence involves synthetic verb forms: a prefixal perfective or a suffixal imperfective: (23) on sxvatil/xvataet olenja za roga he seized.perf/seizes.impf deer.acc by horns.acc.pl ‘Heˉgrabbed/grabsˉtheˉdeerˉbyˉtheˉantlers.’

The heritage Russian imperfective is either unmarked or is marked by the light verb byt’ ‘be’ (the same verb is used as the auxiliary to express states if followed by a noun or adjective). Overall, it seems that heritage speakers use a greater number of perfective forms (at least in spontaneous production), which is different from patterns found in child language, where there is a small imperfective bias (with



Without aspect 

the exception of the passive) – cf. Gvozdev 1961; Babyonyshev and Brun 2004; Kazanina & Phillips 2003. This overall system of encoding aspect resembles aspect-marking strategies in creole languages (for an overview of tense-aspect systems in creoles, see Singler 1990; for the development of a tense-aspect system as contrasted with the lexifier, see Youseef & James 1999). In heritage Russian, such a system may have arisen either under the influence of English, which would amount to transfer, or under the creolization of Russian under incomplete learning. At this point, it is impossible to tell which of these two scenarios applies; to choose between them, it would be important to compare the heritage Russian of the USA with heritage Russian that had developed in contact with languages other than English. Such data, however, are not yet available.89

6.  Conclusions A mixed lexical-grammatical category with complex nuances whose analysis bears on event types and conceptual structure, Slavic aspect has long fascinated researchers, especially in the theoretical arena. However, understanding of the acquisition or reanalysis of Russian aspect is much more limited, and new empirical data in this area are of value not only to theoretical linguists, but to the field in general. This paper has presented data, drawn mainly from spontaneous production, on the encoding of aspect in heritage Russian, the incompletely acquired language spoken by those for whom another language (in this case, American English) became dominant at an early age. The data show that the aspectual system of heritage speakers of Russian is distinct from baseline Russian in several ways. First, in the restructuring of aspect, heritage Russian shows some loss of aspectual distinctions present in the baseline, which is due to the leveling and loss of morphological marking. The shallow morphology characteristic of Heritage Russian leads to the disappearance of the perfective/present stem distinction in verbs, and overgeneralization of suffixal imperfectives in -Vva-. The latter process is quite unsurprising and actually finds parallels in the early acquisition of Russian, where children overmark imperfectives with -Vva- as well (Gvozdev 1961; Stoll 2001).

9.  The rise of the analytical system of aspectual marking in Finnish Russian (heritage Russian as spoken in Finland), reported by Leisiö (2001), suggests that the influence of English cannot be the sole determining factor.

 Maria Polinsky

Second, heritage speakers often maintain only one member of an aspectual pair. For instance, if a baseline speaker has both leč’ and ležat’ ‘lie down’, a heritage speaker may end up with just one verb (typically the imperfective ležat’ for this particular pair). This loss of presumed aspectual pairs may be due to the aforementioned shallowness of morphology, which could in turn be attributed to the lexical nature of the relationship between members of Russian aspectual pairs. In the more restricted, compressed lexicon that is typical of heritage speakers, it is not surprising that only one form is retained. And if only one form is retained, it no longer holds the aspectual value that it has in the baseline – after all, the opposing member of the pair is gone, leaving no source for an aspectual contrast; hence whatever is left after this restriction of the lexicon is underspecified for aspect. At least tentatively, we can then conclude that heritage speakers have certain verbal items without aspectual value (that is, that are underspecified for aspect). Finally, in the absence of regular expression of aspect by affixes or suppletion, heritage speakers regularly express aspect through the use of analytical forms with the light verbs ‘be’, ‘become’, or ‘do’. The frequent occurrence of these forms in heritage speech supports the notion that aspectual distinctions are universal, belonging with the conceptual representation of events. What varies is the actual linguistic encoding of these distinctions, but not the underlying distinctions themselves. If so, it is not accidental that heritage speakers, with limited morphological dexterity, encode the universally specified properties of events, such as telicity or inception, by analytical means. Despite the relatively good retention of aspectual forms and a rather low number of aspectual errors, heritage speakers perform rather poorly on judgment tasks, which suggests that their representation of aspect is quite different from that of the baseline speaker. More work is needed to fully understand the aspectual grammar of heritage speakers, but hopefully this paper will help us move in that direction.

References Andrews, D. 1998. Sociocultural Perspectives on Language Change in Diaspora: Soviet Immigrants in the United States. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Au, T. & Oh, J. 2005. Korean as a heritage language. In Handbook of East Asian Psycholinguistics, Part III, Korean Psycholinguistics, Ping Li (gen. Ed.), Cambridge: CUP. Au, T. & Romo, L. 1997. Does childhood language experience help adult learners? In The Cognitive Processing of Chinese and Related Asian Languages, Hsuan-Chih Chen (Ed.), 417–441. Beijing: Chinese University Press. Babyonyshev, M. & Brun, D. 2004. The acquisition of perfective and imperfective passive constructions in Russian. University of Pennsylvania Working Papers in Linguistics 10(1): 17–31.



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Bermel, N. & Kagan, O. 2000. The maintenance of written Russian in heritage speakers. In The learning and teaching of Slavic languages and cultures: Toward the 21st century, O. Kagan & B. Rifkin (Eds), 405–436. Bloomington IN: Slavica. Bickerton, D. 1973. The nature of a creole continuum. Language 49: 640–669. Bickerton, D. 1989. The lexical learning hypothesis and the pidgin-creole cycle. In Wheels within Wheels, M. Putz & R. Dirven (Eds), 87–99. Frankfurt: Peter Lang. Bickerton, D. 1995. Language and Human Behavior. Seattle WA: University of Washington Press. Caramazza, A. 1994. Parallels and divergences in the acquisition and dissolution of language. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London Series B 346: 121–127. Comrie, B. 1976. Aspect: An Introduction to the Study of Verbal Aspect and Related Problems. Cambridge: CUP. Dahl, Ö. 1983. Temporal distance: Remoteness distinctions in tense-aspect systems. Linguistics 21: 105–122. Dahl, Ö. & Karlsson, F. 1976. Verbal aspects and object marking: A comparison between Finnish and Russian. International Review of Slavic Linguistics 1: 1–30. Dorian, N. (Ed.). 1989. Investigating Obsolescence: Studies in Language Contraction and Death. Cambridge: CUP. Fenyvesi, A. (Ed.). 2005. Hungarian Language Contact outside Hungary. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Filip, H. 1999. Aspect, Eventuality Types, and Nominal Reference. New York NY: Garland. Filip, H. 2003. Prefixes and the delimitation of events. Journal of Slavic Linguistics 11: 55–101. Geisherik, A. 2005. Aspects of Teaching Literacy to Heritage Learners of Russian. Ph.D. Dissertation, State University of New York, Stony Brook. Godson, L. 2003. Phonetics of Language Attrition: Vowel Production and Articulatory Setting in the Speech of Western Armenian Heritage Speakers. Ph.D. Dissertation, UCSD. Gvozdev, A.N. 1961. Voprosy izučenija detskoj reči. Moscow: Izd. Akad. ped. nauk. Kagan, O. & Dillon, K. 2001. A new perspective on teaching Russian: Focus on the heritage learner. Slavic and East European Journal 45: 507–518. Kagan, O. & Friedman, D. 2003. Using the OPI to place heritage speakers of Russian. Foreign Language Annals 36: 536–545. Kazanina, N. & Phillips, C. 2003. Russian children’s knowledge of aspectual distinctions. Proceedings of the Annual Boston University Conference on Language Developmen, 27(1): 390–401. Leisiö, L. 2001. Morphosyntactic Convergence and integration in Finland Russian. Ph.D.  Dissertation, University of Tampere. Lönngren, L. 1993. Častotnyj slovar’ sovremennogo russkogo jazyka (A Frequency Dictionary of Modern Russian) [Studia Slavica Upsaliensia 32]. Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis. Montrul, S. 2004. The Acquisition of Spanish: Morphosyntactic Development in Monolingual and Bilingual L1 Acquisition and Adult L2. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Montrul, S. & Slabakova, S. 2003. Competence similarities between native and near-native speakers: An investigation of the preterite-imperfect contrast in Spanish. Studies in Second Language Acquisition 25: 351–398. Pereltsvaig, A. 2005. Aspect lost, aspect regained: Restructuring of aspectual marking in American Russian. In Aspectual Inquiries, P. Kempchinsky & R. Slabakova (Eds), 369–395. Dordrecht: Kluwer.

 Maria Polinsky Polinsky, M. 1995. Cross-linguistic parallels in language loss. Southwestern Journal of Linguistics 14: 87–125. Polinsky, M. 1997. American Russian: Language loss meets language acquisition. In Formal Approaches to Slavic Linguistics, W. Browne et al. (Eds), 370–407. Ann Arbor MI: Michigan Slavic Publications. Polinsky, M. 2000. A composite linguistic profile of a speaker of Russian in the US.  In The learning and teaching of Slavic languages and cultures: Toward the 21st century, O. Kagan & B. Rifkin (Eds), 437–466. Bloomington IN: Slavica. Polinsky, M. 2005. Word class distinctions in an incomplete grammar. In Perspectives on Language and Language Development, D. Ravid & H. Bat-Zeev Shyldkrot (Eds), 419–436. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Polinsky, M. 2006. Incomplete acquisition: American Russian. Journal of Slavic Linguistics 14: 163–219. Polinsky, M. 2007. Heritage language narratives. In Heritage Languages: A New Field Emerging, D. Brinton & O. Kagan (Eds), Mahwah NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Polinsky, M. 2008. Gender under incomplete acquisition: Heritage speakers’ knowledge of noun categorization. Heritage Language Journal 6, Spring 2008. Rickford, J. 1987. Dimensions of a Creole Continuum: History, Texts and Linguistic Analysis of Guyanese Creole. Stanford CA: Stanford University Press. Seliger, H.W. & Vago, R. 1991. First Language Attrition. Cambridge: CUP. Sharoff, S. 2001. The Frequency Dictionary for Russian. (Online version: http://www.artint.ru/ projects/frqlist/frqlist-en.asp) Singler, J.V. (Ed.), 1990. Pidgin and Creole Tense-mood-aspect Systems. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Sorace, A. 2004. Native language attrition and developmental instability at the syntax-discourse interface: Data, interpretations and methods. Bilingualism: Language and Cognition 7: 143–45. Spencer, A. 1991. Morphological Theory: An Introduction to Word Structure in Generative Grammar. Oxford: Blackwell. Stoll, S. 2001. The Acquisition of Russian Aspect. Ph.D.  Dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Stoll, S. 2005. Beginning and end in the acquisition of the perfective aspect in Russian. Journal of Child Language 32: 805–825. Švedova, N.J. (Gen. Ed.). 1982. Russkaja grammatika. Tom 1. Moscow: Nauka. Tsimpli, I., Sorace, A., Heycock, C. & Filiaci, F. 2004. First language attrition and syntactic subjects. International Journal of Bilingualism 8: 257–278. Valdés, G. 2001. Spanish for Native Speakers. Vol. 1. New York NY: Harcourt College Publishers. Yokoyama, O. 2000. Teaching heritage speakers in the college Russian language classroom. In The Learning and Teaching of Slavic Languages and Cultures: Toward the 21st Century, O. Kagan & B. Rifkin (Eds), 467–475. Bloomington IN: Slavica. Youssef, V. & James, W. 1999. Grounding via tense-aspect in Tobagonian Creole: Discourse strategies across a creole continuum. Linguistics 37: 597–624.

Author index

A Aissen, J.  62, 172 Amiridze, N.  89 Anderson, J.M.  2 Ariel, M.  172 Arkadiev, P.  3 Austin, P.  128–29 B Baerman, M.  2 Bakker, D.  193–94 Baldes, H.  151 Beard, R.  37, 50 Berglund, E.  106, 113 Bickel, B.  58, 132, 191, 197–98, 201, 204–05 Billings, L.  22 Bílý, M.  6, 25 Blake, B.J.  6 Boas, F.  11 Bock, K.  186 Brännström, I.  106, 113, 115 Brehmer, B.  18 Bresnan, J.  173 Brown, D.  2, 9, 19–22 Butt, M.  2 Bybee, J.  9, 172 C Campe, P.  2 Carpenter, P.A.  176 Carstairs, A.  45 Chomsky, N.  172, 212 Chumakina, M.  7, 16 Chvany, C.V.  2 Comrie, B.  1, 5–6, 12–13, 16–18, 21–22, 35–38, 49–50, 57, 60–61, 68, 77, 167, 171–172, 191, 195, 202–03, 207, 211–13, 222–23, 225, 227, 233, 237, 241–42, 250, 268 Corbett, G.G.  2, 4–5, 7–9, 12, 14, 16–17, 22, 25, 48, 60, 119 Creissels, D.  40, 44

Crowley, T.  65 Curnow, T.J.  195 Cysouw, M.  196 D Dahl, Ö.  108, 268 Dahlstedt, K.-H.  106, 111, 114, 116, 120, 122, 124–25 Daniel, M.  4, 11, 16 de Groot, A.W.  2 Deeters, G.  93 DeLancey, S.  205 Delbrück, B.  150, 156, 162–63 Delsing, L.-O.  105 Dixon, R.M.W.  58, 195 Donhauser, K.  151 Donohue, C.  203 Dryer, M.S.  133, 168–70, 173, 183, 185, 187, 211 DuBois, J.W.  204 E É. Kiss, K.  168, 181 Ebert, K.H.  201, 205 Evans, N.  9, 128 F Fenyvesi, A.  38–42, 44–45, 47 Ferguson, C.A.  3 Filimonova, E.  203 Filip, H.  268 Floricic, F.  16 Fodor, J.D.  176 Foley, W.A.  65 Franks, S.  2 Fraser, N.  5, 9, 48 Frazier, L.  176 Friedman, D.  9, 275 G Gaenszle, M.  201 Garrett, A.  203 Gazdar, G.  2 Gensler, O.D.  168–70, 185, 187 Gibson, E.  174, 176

Givón, T.  205, 233 Gladkij, A.V.  3 Goddard, C.  5 Graudina, L.K.  18 Greenberg, J.H.  173 Gruškina, E.V.  53 Gvozdev, A.N.  279 H Hall, C.J.  182 Harris, A.C.  89 Haspelmath, M.  3, 68, 150, 172 Haude, K.  206 Hawkins, J.A.  167–68, 171–77, 179–81, 184–86, 188 Hewitt, G.  80, 85 Hippisley, A.  16 Hjelmslev, L.  2 Hoenkamp, E.  186 Hopper, P.  172 I Ickovič, V.A.  18 Iggesen, O.A.  8 Ilola, E.  17 Iomdin, L.L.  13 Isačenko, A.V.  27 J Jackendoff, R.  185 Jäger, G.  204 Jakobson, R.O.  2, 11, 19 Just, M.A.  176 K Kabak, B.  137 Kadzhaia, O.  101 Kailuweit, R.  153 Katlinskaja, L.P.  18 Keenan, E.L.  57, 68, 171–72, 211–12, 222, 225, 242, 255 Kempen, G.  186 Kenesei, I.  38–42, 44–45, 47 Kibort, A.  7 Kibrik, A.E.  61, 72

 Author index Kiefer, F.  38–39, 54 Kilby, D.A.  2 Kirby, S.  172 K’ldiashvili, D.  97 Klobukov, E.V.  16 Kolmogorov, A.N.  2, 5 Kolvenbach, M.  151 Koptjevskaja-Tamm, M.S.  51, 108 Koshal, S.  133 Koval’, S.A.  3, 16–17 Kroeger, P.  206 Krylov, S.A.  2 Kuno, S.  182 Kuznecova, A.I.  53 L Langacker, R.  151 LaPolla, R.J.  65 Larsson, S.  112, 121 Lazard, G.  89, 242 Leiss, E.  151 Leumann, M.  162 Levelt, W.J.M.  186 Levin, B.  154, 156 Lewis, R.  176 Li, C.N.  244 Lidström, G.  106, 113 M MacDonald, M.C.  186 Manning, C.D.  173 Marklund, T.  113, 116, 124 Maslova, E.S.  11, 72 Maspero, H.  11 Matasovic, R.  60 Mel’čuk, I.  2–3, 7–8, 11, 16, 22–26 Meyer, P.  2, 8 Michaelis, L.  151 Michailovsky, B.  200 Monro, D.B.  93 Moravcsik, E.  38, 41–47, 128, 131 Mustajoki, A.  17 N Nagano, Y.  205 Newmeyer, F.J.  172

Nichols, J.  4, 58, 65, 68, 71–72, 201 Nikitina, T.  72 Nikolaeva, I.  18 Noonan, M.  131, 133–35, 138–41, 201 Nordström, A.  106, 114, 117 Nyström, H.  106, 112, 114, 117 O O’Grady, W.  173 Opgenort, J.R.  200 Otoguro, R.  2, 37, 50–51 P Panov, M.V.  16, 18 Percov, N.V.  11 Pereltsvaig, A.  272 Peterson, D.A.  66 Pettersson, T.  6 Plank, F.  127–28, 130 Plungian, V.A.  3, 13, 19–20, 27 Pokharel, M.  204 Polinsky, M.  12, 16, 18, 38, 57, 60–61, 264, 266, 269–70, 272, 275, 277 Potskhishvili, A.  87 Q Q’ipshidze, I.  101 Quirk, R.  171 R Radford, A.  212 Reinhammar, M.  123 Ross, J.R.  177 Rothstein, R.A.  25 S Sadler, L.  35 Schachter, P.  206, 247 Schmidt, K.H.  93 Schütze, C.T.  176 Selkirk, E.O.  43 Serbat, G.  2 Shanidze, A.  96 Shibatani, M.  233–34, 248 Siewierska, A.  193–94, 196, 204–05, 207 Silverstein, M.  192, 196, 198

Smith, N.  57 Spencer, A.  2, 16, 35, 37, 48, 50–53, 268 Stallings, L.M.  178, 186 Stone, G.  12, 16, 18 Stump, G.T.  48 Suter, E.  203 T Thompson, S.A.  244 Thorndahl, W.  19 Timberlake, A.  12 Tompa, J.  39, 41, 44 Tsunoda, T.  182 Tuite, K.  97 U Uspenskij, B.A.  2, 18, 25 V Vago, R.M.  38–42, 44–45, 47 van den Berg, E.  162 van Driem, G.  200 van Helden, W.A.  2–3 van Valin, R.D., Jr.  65 Vasishth, S.  176 Vinogradov, V.V.  25 W Wasow, T.  178–79 Westerberg, A.  113 Widmark, F.  121 Wierzbicka, A.  18 Wikberg, D.  108, 110–11, 115–16, 118, 122 Worth, D.S.  17, 19 X Xelimskij, E.A.  53 Y Yadroff, M.  16 Yamashita, H.  180 Z Zaliznjak, A.A.  2–3, 5–8, 10–11, 17, 20, 22–24, 26 Zipf  204 Zúñiga, F.  205 Zwicky, A.  10

Language index

A Abkhaz  50, 75–82, 85, 94, 98, 103 Abkhaz(-Abaza)  74 Ainu  194 Albanian  51 Athpare  143, 200 Avar  136–37 B Bahing  200–01 Bantawa  200 Bantu  51, 185 Batsbi  72 Belhare  133, 143, 200–01 Berber, Middle Atlas  202 Bodic  127–28, 131–37, 139–43 C Caddoan  238 Camling (Chamling)  143, 200–01 Caucasian  88, 94, 99 North East  86 North West  75, 82, 85–86, 88 South  75, 82 Central Monpa  135, 143 Central Pomo  211–13, 215–17, 222–34, 236–39 Chácobo  194 Chamorro  202 Chantyal  129–41, 143 Chechen  72 Chechen-Ingush  86 Chintang  200 Circassian  75, 80, 85 Comox  194 Creole languages  265, 279 Czech  49 D Daghestanian  12, 57, 72 Dardic  203 Dhankute Tamang  135–36 Dravidian  36 Dumi  136, 143, 200–01

E English  8, 36–37, 43, 49–50, 53–55, 78, 94, 109, 119, 121–23, 128, 139, 149–50, 152–54, 156–59, 162–63, 169, 171–75, 177–78, 180–82, 188, 205, 221, 223, 226–27, 230, 252, 256, 259, 279 Euchee  239 F Finnish  35, 37, 279 Fore  203 French  36, 49, 109, 149–63, 259 G Georgian Modern  75, 82–96, 98–103 Old  85 German  8, 49, 149–51, 153–63 Grebo  185 Greek  75, 162 Gurung  132, 143 Gyarong (lCog-rtse rGyalrong)  205 H Haida  239 Hayu  143, 200–01 Hebrew  49, 171–72, 242, 246 Hindi  51, 242 Hua  204 Hungarian  35–40, 42–43, 48–50, 52–55, 181 I Indo-Aryan  51, 162, 201, 203–04 Ingush  57–63, 65–66, 68–72, 86 Iraqw  202 Iroquoian  238 Italian  149–50, 154–56, 158, 159–63

J Japanese  50–51, 173, 177, 179–83, 186, 188 Jero  200–01 K Kairiru  170 Kamass  194 Kartvelian  75, 82, 85–90, 99, 101 Kâte  203 Kathmandu Newari  134, 136–37 Khaling  143, 200 Kinyarwanda  247 Kiranti  135–36, 143, 196, 198, 200–01 Kulung  200 L Ladakhi  133, 135, 143 Latin  16, 35, 58, 86, 149–50, 152–63 Latvian  16, 36 Laz  82, 99 Limbu  143, 200–01 Lohorung  200 Lulemål  106–10, 112, 114–17, 122–24 M Macedonian  9–10 Ma’di  185 Magar  134, 143 Malagasy  241, 244–45, 248–51, 253, 255–56, 259–60 Mandarin Chinese  169, 244 Maricopa  194–95 Maung  194–95 Mewahang  200 Middle Dutch  162 Mingrelian  75, 82, 86, 88, 95, 99–103 Movima  206 Muskogean  238

 Language index N Nagatman  170 Nakh  72, 86, 88 Nakh-Daghestanian  57, 68, 72 Nar-Phu  133, 135, 143 Nepali  134, 201, 204 Nez Perce  194–95 North Germanic (Common)  110 P Pama-Nyungan  72 Paumarí  194 Persian  119, 242, 246 Pitemål  105–17, 120–24 Pomoan  213, 223, 239 Proto-Bodic  135 Proto-Indo European  162–63 Proto-Sino-Tibetan  135 Puma  197–98, 200–01 R Rånemål  105–06, 108–12, 115–18, 120, 122, 124–25 Romance  49, 139, 150, 153, 156, 159–60, 162–63 Rumanian  49, 242, 246

Russian  1–19, 21–24, 26, 28–30, 36, 48, 51, 54, 119, 263–64, 266–69, 272, 274, 276–80 Heritage  263–64, 267–70, 272–74, 276–79

Tamangic  129, 132–37, 143 Tepehua  194–95 Temirgoi  85 Thakali  135 Thangmi  139, 143 Thulung  135–36, 200–01 Tibetan Complex  138 Tibeto-Burman  127, 143, 205 Tsez  57, 61 Tsova-Tush  72 Tunen  185 Turkish  36–37, 42, 49, 51, 242–43, 246

S Sanskrit  162 Seke  135 Selkup  38, 53–55 Seri  194–96 Siouan  238 Skelleftemål  113, 116, 124–25 Slave  170 Spanish  49, 158, 160, 241–42, 246 Spiti  138, 143 Supyire  185 Svan  75, 82, 100–03 Swahili  204 Swedish  105–06, 108–09, 111, 123–24 Standard  108, 110–12, 116, 119, 122–25

U Ubykh  75, 85

T Tagalog  205, 207, 241–42, 245, 247–50

Y Yamphu  200 Yimas  194

W Wambule  200–01 Washo  194–95 Westrobothnian  106, 112, 121 Northern  107, 109, 112–13, 116, 124 Southern  107, 111

Subject index

A ablative case  38–40, 135–36, 138, 141, 152, 163 absolutive case  57–72, 80, 86, 89–90, 99, 133, 192, 202–03, 221, 230 Accessibility Hierarchy  57, 68, 172 accusative case  4–5, 7–8, 12, 22–25, 28, 38–39, 42–45, 48–49, 51–52, 88, 90, 99 active (-inactive) hypothesis  92, 95, 97, 99 active (-inactive) opposition  89, 95 active case  91 adnominal  128–32, 139–40, 150, 153, 163 adnumerative  22–23, 26–29 adposition  49–50, 150, 207 affixes  37, 42–43, 45, 50, 53–54, 80, 89, 184–85, 268, 278, 280 agent  58, 77, 80–81, 83, 86–89, 93–94, 97–99, 211, 215–21, 224–37, 239, 247–49 demotion, see demotion, agent grammatical  211, 216, 218–21, 224, 227 semantic  211, 215, 229, 232–33, 238–39 agent/patient system  215–16, 239 agreement  12, 18, 25, 41–43, 50, 57–61, 71–72, 82, 89, 130, 191, 193, 195–96, 199, 204–05, 207, 217–20, 227, 229–30, 239 affixes  75–76, 82, 103 case  37, 41–42, 46, 49 climbing  57, 60–61 Hierarchy  25 possessor  38, 43, 47–49, 52–53

system  82 verb  57, 60, 71, 191–95, 200–02, 207, 212–13 Aktionsart  68 alignment  57–60, 65, 68–72, 90–92, 191–98, 200–05, 207 accusative  90, 192–03, 207 of agreement  193, 195, 202 of case  193 ergative  65, 68–69, 72, 90, 191–98, 200–03, 207 neutral  71, 192–93, 195–98, 200, 202–03 split  191, 194, 202 split-S  71 ambitransitive  68–69 animacy hierarchy, see referential hierarchy antipassive  70 applicative  70 area, linguistic  106, 167, 201, 203–05 argument  38, 58, 61, 64, 70–72, 75, 77–78, 80–85, 87, 89, 96–97, 99, 102, 128, 150–52, 155, 169, 181, 186–87, 191–92, 194–95, 198–99, 202–07, 211, 215–17, 219, 221–34, 236–39, 242, 248 precedence  186–88 sharing  57, 65–67 structure  75, 80, 95, 103 aspect  263–64, 266–74, 276–80 habitual  231 imperfective  221, 231, 233 perfective  68, 87, 220–21 autonomous  7, 10, 29 B background theme, see theme, background

baseline  263–66, 269–73, 276–80 Beard’s Criterion  37, 50 binary feature  2 bivalent intransitive  76–78, 81–82, 86, 88–90, 93–94 bivalent transitive  76–78 C canonical  4–5, 7–15, 26–29, 45–46, 50–51, 69 approach  1–4, 30 case systems  48–49 constructions  4 features  5–8, 10, 26 grammatical function markers on dependents (CGFMD)  37–38, 50–51 inflection(al morphology)  7, 9, 14, 28 morphosyntactic features  6, 9–10, 12–14, 27–28 non-canonical  4, 10–11, 13, 15, 26–30 canonicity  4–6, 9, 14, 16, 26, 29 non-canonicity  8–9, 12–13, 15, 21, 27 cardinality quantifier  252, 259 case  1–30, 35–55, 57–62, 64–65, 67, 69–72, 80–82, 88–90, 92, 96–97, 99, 103, 108–10, 119, 125, 128–42, 150, 179, 182, 184–85, 191–93, 201–04, 206–07, 211, 213, 216–17, 221, 227, 229, 234, 239, 269 climbing  57, 60–61, 67 compounding  127–29, 131–32, 136–37, 139–42 markers  127–28, 133–34, 136, 140–42, 203–04 stacking  128–29, 132–33, 137–39, 141 categories  2, 8

 Subject index causative  59, 67–71, 77, 93–95, 102, 229 analytic  77 synthetic  77 CGFMD, see canonical grammatical function markers on dependents chance, see randomization test climbing  60–61 clitic  38, 42, 45, 50–51, 66, 133–35, 137–41, 182, 184, 194, 206–07 cognizer role  149, 154, 156, 161 conceptual structure  279 conjunction reduction  212–13, 222–23, 227 contexts  5–6, 11, 20 converb  65–67 coreferential  62, 194, 211, 223–27, 232, 236, 239 cross-clause reflexives  213, 226–27, 232–33, 239 D dative case  3, 61, 80, 83, 105–06, 108, 130, 157, 204 definite  35–36, 41, 49, 80, 105, 108–12, 116–23, 125, 151, 184, 186, 204, 241–52, 255–56, 258–60 demotion agent  233–34 subject  82 deponent  59, 159–60 derivational  53–55, 68, 70–72, 129, 132, 136–37, 268–69 differential case marking  191, 203–04 direct object  36, 50–52, 66, 83, 85, 88–92, 94–100, 103, 130, 133, 151–53, 157, 168, 171–72, 177–82, 187, 241–42 direct vs. inverse marking  191–93, 205–06 ditransitive  58–59, 76–77, 94, 102 dynamic verb  78, 100–01 E Early Immediate Constituents (EIC)  174–75, 180 emoter role  149, 154, 161 empathy hierarchy, see referential hierarchy

ergative  57–62, 64–65, 67, 69–72, 75, 80, 90, 94–95, 98–99, 128, 130–32, 135–36, 138, 142, 197, 201–04, 212 alignment, see alignment, ergative case  58, 80, 99, 204 evidential  220, 229 F features  2, 5–10, 12–15, 22, 26–29 figure  151–52, 157, 163 figure-theme construction  152 see also theme, figure frequency  172, 185–86, 270, 276–77 G gender  2, 6, 8–10, 58–59, 71–72, 132 genitive  17–19, 22–23, 36–37, 50–52, 134, 136–37, 139 of negation  151 object  149–65 global argument marking rules  198 grammatical relations  191,193, 204–05, 207, 211, 221, 233 grammaticalization  45, 50, 115, 125, 136, 142, 205 grammemes  2 H heavy NP shift  177–78, 181 Heritage language  264, 270, 275, 277 hierarchical agreement  191, 205 hierarchy, see referential hierarchy hypostasis  130 I imperfective  221–22, 227, 231, 233, 239, 266–80 impersonal verb  86, 161, 239 inclusive  23, 26, 58 incomplete acquisition  263–64, 266, 268, 275 indefinite  36, 105, 109–12, 114–25, 239, 241, 243–44, 246–47, 249–52, 259 indexibility hierarchy, see referential hierarchy

indirect object  50–51, 64, 81, 83–84, 88, 90, 94, 97–99, 133, 172 infinitive  57, 60–61, 67 inverse marking see direct vs. inverse marking L language contact, see area, linguistic light verb construction  58, 70–72 linking vowel(Hungarian)  44–45 locative  12, 14, 16, 19–23, 27–28, 96, 129, 135, 142 alternation  151–52, 155 case  19, 36, 41, 133–34 version, see version, locative locatum role  154 logophoric pronouns, see pronouns, logophoric M markerless passive  83–84 Masdar  87–88 medial verb  91–93, 102 middle voice  93 Minimize Domains (MiD)  173–75, 186–88 monovalent intransitive  76–77, 82, 84, 86, 93, 97, 99, 101 N narrative case  90–92, 95 Network Morphology  9, 21, 48 neutral alignment, see alignment, neutral version, see version, neutral nominal  11–12, 14, 35–37, 41, 44, 47, 52–53, 84–85, 87–88, 90, 105, 128–32, 135, 139 nominalizer  131, 139 nominative case  22, 82–83, 85–86, 89–90, 92, 94–95, 98–99, 202–03, 212 noun incorporation  52 number  6, 8–10, 12, 22–23, 26, 36, 38, 41, 51–54, 217–18, 220–21, 227, 229–31, 239, 248

Subject index  O object, see direct object, indirect object, oblique object objective version, see version, objective oblique argument  155 case  28, 51, 58–59, 80, 89, 217 constituents  167–68, 171–72, 182, 187 object  77–78, 80–82 obviation  62–63 Optimality Theory  172–73 P partitive genitive  17–18, 150, 163 passive voice  82–83, 85–86, 93, 159, 211–13, 228–39 perfective  68, 87, 221, 231, 266–79 Performance-Grammar Correspondence Hypothesis (PGCH)  168, 171–73, 180, 188 Peripherality Constraint  45 person hierarchy, see referential hierarchy plural  105–06, 108–16, 118–25, 191, 259 possessive  154–56, 159–61, 163–64 adjectives  139 constructions  52, 150 inflection  41, 44–45, 79 nouns/pronouns  41, 116–17, 125, 217, 226, 232 reflexive  84, 159, 226 verbs  59, 154–56, 159–60 possessor  36, 38, 43, 46–49, 52–54, 62–64, 130, 149–50, 153–55, 159, 161, 191, 226, 248, 255 postadjectival indefinite article  116, 124–25 postposition  37, 40, 42, 45–47, 49, 51, 85, 90, 129, 133–37, 140–42, 173, 182–84, 186 ‘fused’  35, 37–38, 49, 55 potentiality  75, 80, 82, 84, 86, 88 pragmatics  132, 168, 221, 234, 239, 251 prefixal passive  83

prefixes  76, 83, 184–85, 195, 266–69 preverb  66, 78, 81, 87–89, 101, 103 primary object  59, 133 pronominal affixes  47–48, 52, 75, 82 cross-referencing  82 pronouns Hungarian  39, 41, 47–49, 52–53 logophoric  226, 232–33 vs. nouns  202–04, 207 properties  2, 29–30, 42, 176 clitic  38, 42 grammatical  37, 41 morphological  49 semantic  174, 176 syntactic  36 proportionality quantifier  241, 253–54 pseudo-partitive  43 Q quadrivalent verb  77 quantified NP  242, 249–50, 255–56, 258–59 quantifiers  28, 105, 108–16, 118–19, 121, 124, 249–54, 259 R randomization test  196 reciprocal  79–80 referential  129–30, 207 referential hierarchy  191–93, 198, 201–07 reflexive verb  93–94, 155, 158–61, 164–65, 226 possessive  84, 160 reflexivization  57, 60, 62–65, 72 relative constructions  205 relativization  68, 191, 205–06, 213, 225 S scales, see referential hierarchy screeve  82, 99–101 screeve-series  83–84, 86, 89–92, 94–95, 99–100 second genitive  17–21, 26–27, 29, 139 second locative  2, 11, 19–21, 26–29

semantic maps  3 serialization  57, 65–66, 72 set A affix  82–83, 103 set B affix  83, 90 set-theoretical school  1–2, 5 similitudinal  38, 53, 55 split alignment, see alignment, split split-S alignment, see alignment, split-S stative verb  71, 78–79, 90, 101, 103 subject  13, 50–51, 57, 59–62, 64–65, 67, 69, 71, 79–85, 88–92, 94–99, 151, 155, 157, 161, 168, 172, 186, 191–92, 204, 211–14, 217–34, 236–39, 241–42, 246–53, 255–60 category  211–12, 220, 222–25, 227, 232–33, 237–39 demotion, see demotion, subject properties  212–13, 227, 229 subjective version, see version, subjective subjectless verb  155, 158, 161, 164–65 suffixal passive  83 Suffixaufnahme  51, 127, 130 Suffixhäufung  130 Swedish dialects  105–06 switch reference  213, 223–24, 227 syncretism  8–9, 17, 25, 131, 135, 138–39 T telicity  270, 272, 277, 280 theme  58–59, 149, 151–55, 157, 159, 161, 163, 245, 247–48, 270 background  151–52, 155–59, 163 figure  152–53, 155–59, 164–65 topic  168, 233–34, 237–38, 247 topical  191, 204–05, 233, 237 non-topical  204, 211, 233, 239 topicality  51, 205, 234 hierarchy, see referential hierarchy topicalization  12, 233, 237

 Subject index transitive  62, 67, 69, 78, 85, 89, 92, 94, 96, 100, 155, 157, 161, 164, 191–92, 195, 214–15, 230, 247 clauses  67, 152, 206, 214–15, 228 complements  61 oblique  59, 63 structures  82, 90, 92, 95 subjects  51, 88–91, 94, 96, 99, 191 trivalent transitive  76–77 see also ditransitive verbs  59, 71, 81–83, 87–88, 96–97, 102–03, 153–58, 164–65, 186, 198, 220, 242, 245 U universal quantifier  253–54 unwillingness  80–82

V values  1–16, 22, 26–30, 36 verb-object adjacency  170–71, 177–78, 186–88 version  90 locative  87, 90 neutral  90, 97 objective  83, 90, 97 subjective  90–93 VO and OV languages correlations with genitive and noun ordering  183, 186 correlations with prepositions and postpositions  182–84, 186 correlations with relative clause and noun orders  184 correlations with adjective and noun orders  184, 186

correlations with definite articles  184 correlations with case affixes  184–185 correlations with the ordering of oblique constituents  182 vocative  16–17, 26–27, 29–30, 51 vowel harmony  39, 45 word order  12, 133, 168, 172–73, 192, 222, 227 W World Atlas of Language Structures (WALS)  167–69, 182–83, 187–88 Z zero marking  38, 96, 122, 133, 192, 195, 202–04 Zipf ’s Law  204

Typological Studies in Language A complete list of titles in this series can be found on the publishers’ website, www.benjamins.com 86 Mahieu, Marc-Antoine and Nicole Tersis (eds.): Variations on Polysynthesis. The Eskaleut languages. x, 306 pp. + index. Expected March 2009 85 Givón, T. and Masayoshi Shibatani (eds.): Syntactic Complexity. Diachrony, acquisition, neurocognition, evolution. vi, 543 pp. + index. Expected March 2009 84 Newman, John (ed.): The Linguistics of Eating and Drinking. xii, 271 pp. + index. Expected February 2009 83 Corrigan, Roberta L., Edith A. Moravcsik, Hamid Ouali and Kathleen M. Wheatley (eds.): Formulaic Language. Volume 2. Acquisition, loss, psychological reality, functional applications. xxii, 344 pp. + index. Expected February 2009 82 Corrigan, Roberta L., Edith A. Moravcsik, Hamid Ouali and Kathleen M. Wheatley (eds.): Formulaic Language. Volume 1. Distribution and historical change. xxii, 295 pp. + index. Expected February 2009 81 Corbett, Greville G. and Michael Noonan (eds.): Case and Grammatical Relations. Studies in honor of Bernard Comrie. 2008. ix, 290 pp. 80 Laury, Ritva (ed.): Crosslinguistic Studies of Clause Combining. The multifunctionality of conjunctions. 2008. xiv, 253 pp. 79 Abraham, Werner and Elisabeth Leiss (eds.): Modality–Aspect Interfaces. Implications and typological solutions. 2008. xxiv, 422 pp. 78 Harrison, K. David, David S. Rood and Arienne Dwyer (eds.): Lessons from Documented Endangered Languages. 2008. vi, 375 pp. 77 Seoane, Elena and María José López-Couso (eds.): Theoretical and Empirical Issues in Grammaticalization. In collaboration with Teresa Fanego. 2008. x, 367 pp. 76 López-Couso, María José and Elena Seoane (eds.): Rethinking Grammaticalization. New perspectives. In collaboration with Teresa Fanego. 2008. x, 355 pp. 75 Frajzyngier, Zygmunt and Erin Shay (eds.): Interaction of Morphology and Syntax. Case studies in Afroasiatic. 2008. v, 234 pp. 74 Kurzon, Dennis and Silvia Adler (eds.): Adpositions. Pragmatic, semantic and syntactic perspectives. 2008. viii, 307 pp. 73 Ansaldo, Umberto, Stephen Matthews and Lisa Lim (eds.): Deconstructing Creole. 2007. xii, 292 pp. 72 Næss, Åshild: Prototypical Transitivity. 2007. x, 240 pp. 71 Nedjalkov, Vladimir P. (ed.): Reciprocal Constructions. With the assistance of Emma Š. Geniušienė and Zlatka Guentchéva. 2007. xxiii, 2219 pp. (5 vols.). 70 Zúñiga, Fernando: Deixis and Alignment. Inverse systems in indigenous languages of the Americas. 2006. xii, 309 pp. 69 Aranovich, Raúl (ed.): Split Auxiliary Systems. A cross-linguistic perspective. 2007. vii, 277 pp. 68 Abraham, Werner and Larisa Leisiö (eds.): Passivization and Typology. Form and function. 2006. x, 553 pp. 67 Veselinova, Ljuba N.: Suppletion in Verb Paradigms. Bits and pieces of the puzzle. 2006. xviii, 236 pp. 66 Hickmann, Maya and Stéphane Robert (eds.): Space in Languages. Linguistic Systems and Cognitive Categories. 2006. x, 362 pp. 65 Tsunoda, Tasaku and Taro Kageyama (eds.): Voice and Grammatical Relations. In Honor of Masayoshi Shibatani. 2006. xviii, 342 pp. 64 Voeltz, F. K. Erhard (ed.): Studies in African Linguistic Typology. 2006. xiv, 426 pp. 63 Filimonova, Elena (ed.): Clusivity. Typology and case studies of the inclusive–exclusive distinction. 2005. xii, 436 pp. 62 Couper-Kuhlen, Elizabeth and Cecilia E. Ford (eds.): Sound Patterns in Interaction. Crosslinguistic studies from conversation. 2004. viii, 406 pp. 61 Bhaskararao, Peri and Karumuri Venkata Subbarao (eds.): Non-nominative Subjects. Volume 2. 2004. xii, 319 pp.

60 Bhaskararao, Peri and Karumuri Venkata Subbarao (eds.): Non-nominative Subjects. Volume 1. 2004. xii, 325 pp. 59 Fischer, Olga, Muriel Norde and Harry Perridon (eds.): Up and down the Cline – The Nature of Grammaticalization. 2004. viii, 406 pp. 58 Haspelmath, Martin (ed.): Coordinating Constructions. 2004. xcv, 578 pp. 57 Mattissen, Johanna: Dependent-Head Synthesis in Nivkh. A contribution to a typology of polysynthesis. 2003. x, 350 pp. 56 Shay, Erin and Uwe Seibert (eds.): Motion, Direction and Location in Languages. In honor of Zygmunt Frajzyngier. 2003. xvi, 305 pp. 55 Frajzyngier, Zygmunt and Erin Shay: Explaining Language Structure through Systems Interaction. 2003. xviii, 309 pp. 54 Aikhenvald, Alexandra Y. and R.M.W. Dixon (eds.): Studies in Evidentiality. 2003. xiv, 349 pp. 53 Givón, T. and Bertram F. Malle (eds.): The Evolution of Language out of Pre-language. 2002. x, 394 pp. 52 Güldemann, Tom and Manfred von Roncador (eds.): Reported Discourse. A meeting ground for different linguistic domains. 2002. xii, 425 pp. 51 Newman, John (ed.): The Linguistics of Sitting, Standing and Lying. 2002. xii, 409 pp. 50 Feigenbaum, Susanne and Dennis Kurzon (eds.): Prepositions in their Syntactic, Semantic and Pragmatic Context. 2002. vi, 304 pp. 49 Wischer, Ilse and Gabriele Diewald (eds.): New Reflections on Grammaticalization. 2002. xiv, 437 pp. 48 Shibatani, Masayoshi (ed.): The Grammar of Causation and Interpersonal Manipulation. 2002. xviii, 551 pp. 47 Baron, Irène, Michael Herslund and Finn Sørensen (eds.): Dimensions of Possession. 2001. vi, 337 pp. 46 Aikhenvald, Alexandra Y., R.M.W. Dixon and Masayuki Onishi (eds.): Non-canonical Marking of Subjects and Objects. 2001. xii, 364 pp. 45 Bybee, Joan and Paul J. Hopper (eds.): Frequency and the Emergence of Linguistic Structure. 2001. vii, 492 pp. 44 Voeltz, F. K. Erhard and Christa Kilian-Hatz (eds.): Ideophones. 2001. x, 436 pp. 43 Gildea, Spike (ed.): Reconstructing Grammar. Comparative Linguistics and Grammaticalization. 2000. xiv, 269 pp. 42 Diessel, Holger: Demonstratives. Form, function and grammaticalization. 1999. xii, 205 pp. 41 Frajzyngier, Zygmunt and Traci S. Walker-Curl (eds.): Reciprocals. Forms and functions. Volume 2. 2000. xii, 201 pp. 40 Frajzyngier, Zygmunt and Traci S. Walker-Curl (eds.): Reflexives. Forms and functions. Volume 1. 2000. xiv, 286 pp. 39 Payne, Doris L. and Immanuel Barshi (eds.): External Possession. 1999. ix, 573 pp. 38 Siewierska, Anna and Jae Jung Song (eds.): Case, Typology and Grammar. In honor of Barry J. Blake. 1998. 395 pp. 37 Giacalone-Ramat, Anna and Paul J. Hopper (eds.): The Limits of Grammaticalization. 1998. vi, 307 pp. 36 Newman, John (ed.): The Linguistics of Giving. 1998. xv, 373 pp. 35 Givón, T. (ed.): Grammatical Relations. A functionalist perspective. 1997. viii, 350 pp. 34 Givón, T. (ed.): Conversation. Cognitive, communicative and social perspectives. 1997. viii, 302 pp. 33 Fox, Barbara A. (ed.): Studies in Anaphora. 1996. xii, 518 pp. 32 Bybee, Joan and Suzanne Fleischman (eds.): Modality in Grammar and Discourse. 1995. viii, 575 pp. 31 Gernsbacher, Morton Ann and T. Givón (eds.): Coherence in Spontaneous Text. 1995. x, 267 pp. 30 Downing, Pamela A. and Michael Noonan (eds.): Word Order in Discourse. 1995. x, 595 pp. 29 Kahrel (PJK), Peter and René van den Berg (eds.): Typological Studies in Negation. 1994. x, 385 pp. 28 Givón, T. (ed.): Voice and Inversion. 1994. viii, 402 pp. 27 Fox, Barbara A. and Paul J. Hopper (eds.): Voice: Form and Function. 1994. xiii, 377 pp. 26 Lord, Carol: Historical Change in Serial Verb Constructions. 1993. x, 273 pp. 25 Svorou, Soteria: The Grammar of Space. 1994. xiv, 290 pp. 24 Perkins, Revere D.: Deixis, Grammar, and Culture. 1992. x, 245 pp.

23 Kemmer, Suzanne: The Middle Voice. 1993. xii, 300 pp. 22 Payne, Doris L. (ed.): Pragmatics of Word Order Flexibility. 1992. viii, 320 pp. 21 Downing, Pamela A., Susan D. Lima and Michael Noonan (eds.): The Linguistics of Literacy. 1992. xx, 334 pp. 20 Croft, William, Suzanne Kemmer and Keith Denning (eds.): Studies in Typology and Diachrony. Papers presented to Joseph H. Greenberg on his 75th birthday. 1990. xxxiv, 243 pp. 19:2 Traugott, Elizabeth Closs and Bernd Heine (eds.): Approaches to Grammaticalization. Volume II. Types of grammatical markers. 1991. xii, 558 pp. 19:1 Traugott, Elizabeth Closs and Bernd Heine (eds.): Approaches to Grammaticalization. Volume I. Theoretical and methodological issues. 1991. xii, 360 pp. 18 Haiman, John and Sandra A. Thompson (eds.): Clause Combining in Grammar and Discourse. 1988. xiii, 428 pp. 17 Hammond, Michael, Edith A. Moravcsik and Jessica Wirth (eds.): Studies in Syntactic Typology. 1988. xiv, 380 pp. 16 Shibatani, Masayoshi (ed.): Passive and Voice. 1988. xi, 706 pp. 15 Austin, Peter (ed.): Complex Sentence Constructions in Australian Languages. 1988. vii, 289 pp. 14 Hinds, John, Shoichi Iwasaki and Senko K. Maynard (eds.): Perspectives on Topicalization. The case of Japanese WA. 1987. xi, 307 pp. 13 Never published. 12 Nedjalkov, Vladimir P. (ed.): Typology of Resultative Constructions. Translated from the original Russian edition (1983). Translation edited by Bernard Comrie. 1988. xx, 573 pp. 11 Tomlin, Russell S.: Coherence and Grounding in Discourse. Outcome of a Symposium, Eugene, Oregon, June 1984. 1987. viii, 512 pp. 10 Ransom, Evelyn N.: Complementation: its Meaning and Forms. 1986. xii, 226 pp. 9 Bybee, Joan: Morphology. A Study of the Relation between Meaning and Form. 1985. xii, 235 pp. 8 Slobin, Dan I. and Karl Zimmer (eds.): Studies in Turkish Linguistics. 1986. vi, 294 pp. 7 Craig, Colette G. (ed.): Noun Classes and Categorization. Proceedings of a symposium on categorization and noun classification, Eugene, Oregon, October 1983. 1986. vii, 481 pp. 6 Haiman, John (ed.): Iconicity in Syntax. Proceedings of a symposium on iconicity in syntax, Stanford, June 24–26, 1983. 1985. vi, 402 pp. 5 Rutherford, William E. (ed.): Language Universals and Second Language Acquisition. 1984. ix, 264 pp. 4 Chisholm, William, Louis T. Milic and John A.C. Greppin (eds.): Interrogativity. A colloquium on the grammar, typology and pragmatics of questions in seven diverse languages, Cleveland, Ohio, October 5th 1981-May 3rd 1982. 1984. v, 302 pp. 3 Givón, T.: Topic Continuity in Discourse. A quantitative cross-language study. 1983. vi, 492 pp. 2 Haiman, John and Pamela Munro (eds.): Switch Reference and Universal Grammar. Proceedings of a symposium on switch reference and universal grammar, Winnipeg, May 1981. 1983. xv, 337 pp. 1 Hopper, Paul J. (ed.): Tense-Aspect. Between semantics & pragmatics. 1982. x, 350 pp.