Language Typology: A Functional Perspective

LANGUAGE TYPOLOGY AMSTERDAM STUDIES IN THE THEORY AND HISTORY OF LINGUISTIC SCIENCE General Editor E.F. KONRAD KOERNE...

Author: Alice Caffarel | J. R. Martin | Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

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LANGUAGE TYPOLOGY

AMSTERDAM STUDIES IN THE THEORY AND HISTORY OF LINGUISTIC SCIENCE General Editor E.F. KONRAD KOERNER (Zentrum für Allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft, Typologie und Universalienforschung, Berlin) Series IV – CURRENT ISSUES IN LINGUISTIC THEORY Advisory Editorial Board Lyle Campbell (Christchurch, N.Z.); Sheila Embleton (Toronto) Brian D. Joseph (Columbus, Ohio); John E. Joseph (Edinburgh) Manfred Krifka (Berlin); E. Wyn Roberts (Vancouver, B.C.) Joseph C. Salmons (Madison, Wis.); Hans-Jürgen Sasse (Köln)

Volume 253

Alice Caffarel, J.R. Martin and Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen (eds) Language Typology. A functional perspective.

LANGUAGE TYPOLOGY A FUNCTIONAL PERSPECTIVE

Edited by

ALICE CAFFAREL J. R. MARTIN The University of Sydney

CHRISTIAN M. I. M. MATTHIESSEN Macquarie University

JOHN BENJAMINS PUBLISHING COMPANY AMSTERDAM/PHILADELPHIA

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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-984.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Language typology : a functional perspective / edited by Alice Caffarel, J.R. Martin, Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen. p. cm. -- (Amsterdam studies in the theory and history of linguistic science. Series IV, Current issues in linguistic theory, ISSN 0304-0763 ; v. 253) Includes bibliographical references and index. . Typology (Linguistics) I. Caffarel, Alice. II. Martin, J.R. III. Matthiessen, Christian M.I.M. IV. Series. P204.L297 2004 45'.0--dc22 2004055957 ISBN 90 272 4766 8 (Eur.) /  588 559 3 (US) (Hb; Volume : alk. paper) © 2004 – 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 • 020 ME Amsterdam • The Netherlands John Benjamins North America • P.O.Box 2759 • Philadelphia PA 98-059 • USA

Table of contents

List of contributors

ix

Foreword

xi

Chapter 1 Introduction: Systemic functional typology Alice Caffarel, J. R. Martin and Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen 1.1 Aims of the book 1 1.2 Orientation – systemic functional language typology 4 1.3 Mapping language – the dimensions of systemic functional theory 16 1.4 A systemic functional map of English lexicogrammar 42 1.5 The global map and approaches to typology 54 1.6 Sampling to support typological generalizations across descriptions 58 1.7 Organization of the book 61 References 66 Chapter 2 Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French Alice Caffarel 2.1 French through time and space 77 2.2 A short overview of French grammar 78 2.3 French clause grammar: A metafunctional profile 86 2.4 Typological outlook 133 References 136 Chapter 3 Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

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Table of contents

3.1 A brief history of German 139 3.2 A description of the paradigmatic and syntagmatic organization of the German clause 142 3.3 The mood system and interpersonal structure 144 3.4 The transitivity system and experiential structure 152 3.5 The theme system and theme structure 169 3.6 Conclusion and comments on methodology 180 References 183 Chapter 4 Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese Kazuhiro Teruya 4.1 Introduction 185 4.2 Metafunctional preview of the clause in Japanese 187 4.3 The mood system and the modal structure 193 4.4 The transitivity system and experiential structure 207 4.5 The theme system and theme structure 228 4.6 Conclusion: Next step into new description for typological survey 247 References 251 Chapter 5 Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog J. R. Martin 5.1 Ecosocial context 255 5.2 Metafunctional preview 256 5.3 transitivity 258 5.4 theme 280 5.5 mood 284 5.6 A note on logical meaning 296 5.7 News from somewhere 298 References 302 Chapter 6 Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald 6.1 Introduction 305 6.2 Preliminaries: The clause and its constituents 311 6.3 Textual metafunction 320

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6.4 Interpersonal metafunction 329 6.5 Experiential metafunction 353 References 393 Chapter 7 Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese Minh Duc Thai 7.1 Introduction 397 7.2 The metafunctional description 399 7.3 Conclusion 428 References 428 Chapter 8 Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu V. Prakasam 8.1 Introduction 433 8.2 Metafunctional preview 435 8.3 mood 437 8.4 transitivity 447 8.5 Theme and Focus 471 8.6 Conclusion: Typological outlook 477 References 477 Chapter 9 Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Pitjantjatjara David Rose 9.1 Cultural contexts 479 9.2 Metafunctional preview 481 9.3 mood 494 9.4 transitivity 506 9.5 theme 525 9.6 Conclusion 532 References 534 Chapter 10 Descriptive motifs and generalizations Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen 10.1 Introduction 537 10.2 Descriptive motifs and generalizations 538

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10.3 Ideational – construing experience 574 10.4 Interpersonal – enacting social roles & relations 610 10.5 Textual – creating information as unfolding text 635 10.6 Variation across metafunctions: projection 652 10.7 Conclusion 655 References 663 Index

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Alice Caffarel is Senior Lecturer in French and Linguistics in the Department of French Studies at the University of Sydney. She specializes in French grammar and semantics and has published articles in edited volumes and International journals. She is interested in Register Variation, Corpus Linguistics, Computational Linguistics and Stylistics. M. A. K. Halliday is Professor Emeritus in Linguistics at the University of Sydney, Sydney, Australia, Visiting Professor at Macquarie University and Honorary Professor at Peking University. James R. Martin is Professor in Linguistics at the University of Sydney, Sydney, Australia. His research areas include Tagalog grammar and discourse, discourse semantics and theories of context, educational linguistics and systemic functional theory. Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen is Professor (Chair) in Linguistics at Macquarie University, Sydney, Australia. His research areas include language typology, natural language processing, the modelling of meaning, lexicogrammar, corpus-based methodology, and systemic functional theory. Edward McDonald holds a MA from Peking University and a PhD from Macquarie University. He has taught linguistics and semiotics at Peking University, the National University of Singapore, and Tsinghua University. His research areas include: the grammar and discourse patterning of modern Chinese; intellectual currents in contemporary China, particularly with regard to ideas about language, culture and nationalism; history of linguistics; syntactic theories; and the semiotics of voice and musical performance. He has published in both English and Chinese in Language Sciences, the Journal of Chinese Linguistics, Northern Forum, Histoire, epistemologie, langage, and many edited collections; and has a book manuscript in preparation with Shen Xiaolong entitled East-West dialogues on language and culture. He is currently working as an editor at Chinese Central Television. V. Prakasam is Professor at the Central Institute of English and Foreign Languages, Hyderabad, India. His research areas include the description of Telugu, systemic functional phonology, stylistics, language and the law and systemic functional theory.

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David Rose has worked with Australian Indigenous communities for the past twenty years, as an educator, student and community member. His study of the language and culture of Australia’s Western Desert peoples (The Western Desert Code: An Australian Cryptogrammar, 2001) grew out of this first hand experience and a concern to accurately portray ways of meaning in the culture. He is currently a reaserch fellow at University of Sydney, investigating language and literacy in Indigenous communities, and trains teachers of Indigenous children in literacy teaching strategies. His research interests have also included technical and scientific literacies (Science, technology and technical literacies, 1997; Science, discourse and industrial hierarchy, 1998) and discourse analysis (Martin & Rose 2003). Erich Steiner is Professor at the Universität des Saarlandes, Saarbrücken, Germany. His research areas include the description of German, translation studies, the semiotics of music, language and action and systemic functional theory. Elke Teich, is Professor at the Technical University, Darmstadt, Germany. She specialises in corpus-based and computational linguistics. She is particulary interested in the comparative analysis of original and translated English and German texts. She recently published the following book in this area: Cross-linguistic variation in system and text. De Gruyter: Berlin, New York. (2003). Kazuhiro Teruya is Lecturer in Japanese, at the University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia. His research interests include Japanese grammar and discourse, linguistics typology and the modelling of meaning. He is also involved as a researcher in the Laboratory for Language – based Intelligent Systems at Brain Science Institute, Riken, Japan. Minh Duc Thai is Lecturer in translation studies at the University of Western Sydney, Sydney. His research interests include translation, contrastive analysis and TESOL.

Foreword

This volume explores the clause grammars of eight languages — two from Europe (French, German), five from Asia (Tagalog, Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, Telugu) and one from Australia (Pitjantjatjara), covering seven language families. Each language is presented in its own terms, with evidence from a range of spoken and written discourse. The final chapter discusses descriptive motifs and generalizations, drawing on the languages explored in the book but also making reference to many other languages as well. The descriptions of the individual languages and the typological generalizations are all based on one particular functional theory – systemic functional theory, which is introduced in the first chapter. The book reflects and consolidates the growth in descriptions of a range of languages based on systemic functional theory, going back to Halliday’s fieldwork on dialects of Chinese in the Pearl River Delta in the late 1940s and including a number of new accounts being added in the 1990s. In the last few years, two workshops focusing on systemic functional typology have been held at the University of Sydney – the first in December 1996 and the second in September 1999. During these workshops, systemic functional researchers presented and contrasted grammatical profiles of a range of languages. This book includes languages discussed at the first workshop, but it also adds languages that were not represented at that workshop – German and Telugu. The second workshop included continued work on the languages from the first workshop, but it also saw the addition of other languages – Danish, Cantonese and Korean in particular. These will be included in a sequel to the present book, together with accounts of other languages as well. The book is intended to serve as a contribution to a range of multilingual concerns. One of the central multilingual concerns is, of course, language typology and the material has been used in this context. But the book is also intended to support other multilingual concerns such as language comparison, translation studies and the development of descriptions of languages that have not yet been described in (systemic) functional terms. The descriptions presented in this book are all based on rich evidence from discourse; and they have been designed to be useable in discourse analysis – something that has become increasingly important in translation studies. In the field of typology, the book is offered as a complement to existing works: it combines accounts of individual languages couched in terms that are sensitive

 Foreword

to their own unique discourse concerns with an exploration of descriptive motifs and generalizations. Developing an account of a particular language that strikes a balance between viewing it as unique and viewing it as either just another manifestation of language as the general human semiotic or a peculiar, scrambled version of some dominant language like Latin, English or Chinese is a signficant challenge that can only be met by using the resources of a powerful theory of language(s) and a powerful metatheory of our theory of language(s). The contributors have met this challenge by drawing on systemic functional (meta)theory. This theory of language is a general theory in the sense that it provides us with the resources needed for construing human language as one kind of semiotic system without building in descriptive assumptions based on one or a small number of languages. The descriptions developed within the general theory are descriptions of particular languages – descriptions that are grounded in natural discourse. The descriptions are of course guided by the accumulation of descriptive experience. (i) On the one hand there are models emerging from work on other languages; for example, when he began developing his descriptions of English, Michael Halliday was able to draw on his experience with describing Chinese and many have been influenced in their work on various languages by his account of English. Such accounts serve as model or protocol descriptions; but there is an inherent danger in using them – the danger of transferring them to other languages. One way of avoiding this danger is to ensure that the account being developed is based on natural discourse and then to test the description by using it in discourse analysis. The accounts presented in this volume have all gone through these two processes. Thus if the descriptive category of “Theme” or “Subject” is posited in the account of a given language, this is only because it represents a plausible interpretation of patterns that emerge in discourses from different registers. (ii) On the other hand, comprehensive descriptions of particular languages provide material for descriptive generalizations concerned with systems such as those of transitivity, theme, mood, tense/aspect and expansion & projection. Such generalizations should be based not on isolated structural fragments but on a sense of how whole systems operate in their environments. For example, the category of Subject should not be the focus of investigation; rather any generalizations about Subject should emerge from more holistic considerations of how languages grammaticalize interpersonal patterns of meaning as a resource for creating dialogue in the form of systems of mood.

Acknowledgements Warm thanks to people who have assisted in the editing process – Kathryn Tuckwell and Kumi Suzuki, and to Kazuhiro Teruya and Wu Canzhong for help with dia-

Foreword 

grams and romanization in the Chinese chapter; Kazuhiro and Canzhong have provided extensive help with the preparation of the camera-ready version of the book. We are also grateful to workshop participants who commented on oral presentations, and students who have commented on various versions of the manuscript of this book. We would also like to thank the School of Languages and Cultures and the School of Society, Culture and Performance at the University of Sydney and the Division of Linguistics and Psychology at Macquarie University for their financial assistance.

Chapter 1

Introduction Systemic functional typology Alice Caffarel, J. R. Martin and Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen University of Sydney / Macquarie University

. Aims of the book This book is intended as a systemic functional contribution to language typology both for those who would like to understand and describe particular languages against the background of generalizations about a wide range of languages and also for those who would like to develop typological accounts that are based on and embody descriptions of the systems of particular languages (rather than isolated constructions). Typology is thus to be understood in a broad sense as the general study of similarities and differences across languages – covering not only typology in a strict sense as elaborated by, for example, Greenberg (1966, 1978) but also descriptive frameworks embodying generalizations developed to support the descriptions of a range of different languages (e.g. Comrie 1981; Shopen 1985; Payne 1997; Whaley 1997). This book is a contribution to this second aspect of typology, but it differs from previous contributions in important respects. The book is a unique contribution in at least two respects. On the one hand, it is the first book based on systemic functional theory that is specifically concerned with language typology. Here it complements previous contributions guided by other theories or approaches such as “West-Coast” functionalism (as in the work by Sandra Thompson, Paul Hopper and Talmy Givón), Simon Dik’s functionalism, or any of the approaches presented in Shibatani & Bynon (1995). On the other hand, the book combines the particular with the general in the description of languages: it presents comparable sketches of particular languages while at the same time identifying generalizations based on the languages described here as well as on other languages. Here it complements previous contributions that focus on typological generalizations but which do not present accounts of particular languages –

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Alice Caffarel, J. R. Martin and Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

contributions dealing with a range of linguistic domains such as Greenberg (1978), Comrie (1981), Shopen (1985), Payne (1997) & Whaley (1997) as well as contributions that focus on some particular domain such as Comrie (1976, 1985), Hopper (1982), Dahl (1985), Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca (1994) on tense and aspect, Hopper & Thompson (1982) on transitivity, Blake (1994) on case, Palmer (1986) on mood and modality, Chafe & Nichols (1986) on evidentiality, Givón (1983) on “continuity”, Lyons (1999) on “definiteness”, and many others. The focus of the book on both particular linguistic systems and typological generalizations across such systems derives from the systemic functional approach to typology. Systemic functional linguistics is a tradition within functional approaches to language that was developed by M.A.K. Halliday beginning with his work on Chinese in the 1950s. He drew originally on the contextualism, prosodic analysis and system-structure theory that had characterized work led by J.R. Firth since the 1930s in Britain, but later he also incorporated other strands, including ideas from Prague School functionalism and American anthropological linguistics. (Firth’s work already incorporated the ethnographic experience: he had been inspired by Bronislaw Malinowski’s pioneering work in anthropology from the mid 1910s onwards.) The systemic functional base means that descriptions of languages are oriented towards context, grounded in discourse and focused on meaning: language itself is interpreted as a meaning potential – a meaning potential that embodies three different kinds of meaning (ideational meaning, interpersonal meaning and textual meaning).1 The systemic functional contribution to language typology presented in this book must be viewed in the context of the rich and expanding field of typological linguistics. The interest in similarities and differences across languages goes far back in time, of course; but it was not until the 19th century that systematic work was undertaken, first by Schlegel and Humboldt – inspired both by the intellectual theme of evolution and the accumulation of experience from an increasing range of languages around the world. In the 19th century, language typology was approached “from below”: the focus was on the grammar of words (morphology) and typology was based on word structure – the familiar types of isolating, agglutinative, fusional and polysynthetic languages, later reinterpreted by Sapir (1921) as involving two distinct parameters – degree of synthesis (from isolating to synthetic) and degree of fusion (from agglutinative to fusional). In this century, the empirical approach to typology goes back to the Prague school in the pre-war work by Mathesius, Skaliˇcka and Trubetzkoy (see Sgall 1995), with Jakobson (e.g. 1941) developing a kind of universalism that was later taken up in the American context, within generative linguistics in particular. These early developments are very significant. However, the expansion of the field in the last 20 years has been particularly impressive. Around 1980, the fourvolume publication edited by Greenberg (1978) had just appeared. It was largely

Introduction

based on Greenberg’s (1966) seminal paper presented at the Dobbs Ferry conference on language universals in 1961, and it represented the culmination of the universals and typology project at Stanford University. Greenberg’s work introduced the notion of “implicational universals” – Croft (1995: 86) speaks of “Greenberg’s discovery of implicational universals of morphology and word order”; but “implicational universals” are part of the descriptive framework designed to interpret linguistic phenomena and it is these phenomena that are discovered, not the framework used to describe them. Other early typological work was available in books such as Li (1976) and Comrie (1976); but one of the standard textbooks in linguistic typology – Comrie (1981) – had not yet appeared and certain breakthrough contributions such as Hopper & Thompson (1980) were also still unpublished. By the late 1970s the early Chomskyan approach to “universals” and “universal grammar” had of course also been established in the form of conditions and constraints on rules; but it did not have the kind of cross-linguistic empirical foundation provided by Greenberg’s approach. In the last 20 years in particular, Greenberg’s empirical approach has been taken further within various frameworks, including a number of those surveyed in Shibatani & Bynon (1995). Typology has been linked in a very fruitful way to phylogenetic concerns by means of the concept of grammaticalization, marking a return at a higher level of understanding to the evolutionary theme of the 19th century (e.g. Heine, Claudi & Hünnemeyer 1991; Hopper & Traugott 1993; Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994; Harris & Campbell 1995). Typology has been linked to investigations of discourse in different languages, thus expanding the domain of typology from the system pole of the cline of instantiation (see Section 1.3.2 below) to include the instance pole as well (as in early work on tense and aspect in Hopper 1982, on continuity in Givón 1983; and as in more recent work focusing on “interaction and grammar” in Ochs, Schegloff & Thompson 1996 – see Cumming & Ono 1997, for a general discussion of the approach to “grammar and discourse” in what they call the “discourse-functional approach”). The link to discourse has also made it possible to advance the interpretation of typological variation in probabilistic terms so that we can now see that variation across languages is like variation within a language in that it is variation in systemic probabilities. In addition, Hopper & Thompson’s (1980) study of transitivity parameters showed the potential of system-based typology, supplementing structure-based typology; and it also showed very clearly the importance of focusing on both semantics and lexicogrammar (i.e. grammar (“morpho-syntax”) + lexis) in typological statements since all the transitivity parameters are semantically significant and may be reflected overtly in the grammar of a language. In this context of the developing field of typological research, how then is systemic functional typology distinctive? It will be easier to answer this question once we have sketched an outline of the general systemic functional theory of language

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(Section 1.3) and given a brief example of a systemic functional description of a particular language (Section 1.4): at that point we will be able to suggest how the resources of systemic functional linguistics can contribute to typological research. Here we will just give a few indications of salient features of a systemic functional approach to typology. i.

The sample of descriptions of languages that would form the basis would have to include rich, comprehensive ones oriented towards meaning and based on investigations of discourse, thus ensuring that the features being typologized can be motivated independently for each particular language (by reference to naturally occurring discourse) and that they can be located within the overall system of each language (cf. Section 1.6 below). The contributions to the present volume are brief outlines of such descriptions. ii. The typological generalizations would be based on a conception of language as a resource – a “meaning potential” (see Section 1.3.2 below), organized in a multidimensional semiotic space (see Section 1.3.1 below). This would mean operating with a more highly differentiated conception of language than has often been used in typological work (cf. Bateman, Matthiessen & Zeng 1999, for this point in relation to multilingual specifications in general). iii. One consequence of the multidimensional theory of language is the realization that languages are far too complex to be typologized as unified phenomena: typology has to be typology of particular systems (such as tense/ aspect systems), not typology of whole languages as was done traditionally when languages were typologized as analytic versus agglutinative versus fusional versus polysynthetic (see Halliday 1966: 166–168). This is not to say that there cannot be “syndromes” of such systemic types – either fairly limited or more pervasive, of the kind proposed by G.A. Klimov (for example, his “active type” is based on 30 lexicogrammatical features; see Nichols 1992: 7–12); but such “types” must, we believe, be treated as syndromes of individually motivated typological features rather than as unified types of language, and it must be recognized that they do not exhaust the dimensions of typological likeness and difference across languages (see for example Martin 1988, on a tenor-oriented syndrome in Tagalog).

. Orientation – systemic functional language typology .. Typology as one research application within systemic functional linguistics Many linguistic frameworks see language typology and issues relating to language universals as the central concern – or perhaps even the only concern – of theo-

Introduction

retical linguistics. In these approaches their theories are custom-made to address research questions concerning typology and universals. For example, in the Chomskyan tradition, the theory is typically realized in a formal representation that is defined in such a way that the representation embodies hypotheses about universals constraining what constitutes a “possible language” (this corresponds to the “representational” rather than the “theoretical” level of the metalanguage of systemic functional linguistics; see Section 1.3.7 below). In contrast, in systemic functional linguistics, language typology (including issues relating to universals) is only one amongst many research applications (cf. Halliday 1964; 1980; 1994: xxix–xxx). Consequently, systemic functional theory has not been purpose-built to deal with language typology; but instead it has been developed to be a general linguistic resource that is powerful and flexible enough to address a wide range of questions about language. Thus the same theory that has been deployed throughout this book has been applied to areas as different as: language development – how young children learn how to mean; educational linguistics – how people learn language, learn through language and learn about language; computational linguistics – modelling the generation of written and spoken text and modelling translation (“machine translation”); clinical linguistics – working with speakers suffering from aphasia; modelling of language as an inherently probabilistic and variable system – including not only dialect variation but also register variation and codal variation; description of particular languages – mapping them out metafunctionally and stratally; stylistics and the study of verbal art; translation studies – kinds of translation and translation of different metafunctional modes of meaning; multimodality – the interpretation of semiotic systems other than language. This does not mean, however, that typology is a late addition to the systemic research agenda. On the contrary, it has been on the agenda right from the start, flowing very naturally out of Firthian linguistics and relating to the Prague School interest in the characterology of languages (cf. Mathesius 1975, e.g. p. 11). Indeed, in the 1950s M.A.K. Halliday co-authored a paper with Jeffrey Ellis on tense/ aspect systems in a range of languages, including Chinese, Russian and English. It would have been Halliday’s first published paper, except the editor of the journal it was sent to rejected it. And one of Halliday’s research investigations at the time was to survey 37 grammatical features in linguistic area of East and South-East Asia; but this early work on areal typology was never published (but cf. Halliday 1957: 66). There were, however, papers on (machine) translation – Halliday (1956, 1962) and on language typology (Halliday 1957, 1966). These early contributions established a number of important principles of systemic typology (see Matthiessen & Halliday, in prep.: Chapter 5) – such as the principle that typology is typology of particular systems of languages rather than of whole languages, the principle that typology is generalized comparison, the principle that languages tend to dif-

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fer more at lower ranks (that is, at word rank rather than at clause rank, with group/phrase rank as quite variable across languages) and tend to be more congruent with one another at higher ones, and the principle that linguistic theory is a general theory of language whereas linguistic descriptions are accounts of particular languages. The rank principle was extended to the dimension of stratification in a seminal paper by Martin (1983). The early work also included fundamental conceptions of language critical to modern typology – language as an inherently variable system (e.g. Halliday, Macintosh & Strevens 1964; Halliday 1978) and language as a probabilistic system (e.g. Halliday 1959, in his text-based description of Chinese). In this context, it is important to dispel the myth that systemic functional theory is, or has been, anglo-centric: this view is simply wrong. If one fails to distinguish between theory and description (see further Section 1.2.2 below), then one might be mislead into thinking that the fact there has been a substantial body of systemic functional descriptions of English means that the theory is anglo-centric. However, the general theory of language has always been distinct from descriptions of particular languages. This was established in Firthian linguistics; in his “Synopsis of Linguistic Theory, 1930–1955”, Firth (1957: 21) writes Linguists are only just beginning to realize the dangers and pitfalls of ‘personification’ of categories as universal entities. [fn omitted] There is a constant need to beware of such bogus philosophizing in linguistics. There is always the danger that the use of traditional grammatical terms with reference to a wide variety of languages may be taken to imply a secret belief in universal grammar. Every analysis of a particular ‘language’ must of necessity determine the values of the ad hoc categories to which traditional names are given. [fn omitted] What is here being sketched is a general linguistic theory applicable to particular linguistic descriptions, not a theory of universals for general linguistic description.

In his introduction to the volume in which this essay appeared, Firth characterized Halliday’s contribution to the same volume as follows: Dr. Halliday, whose work is primarily in Chinese linguistics, points out that in Britain we have a long tradition of description of the languages of Asia, Africa, and the Pacific, and gives it as his experience that the general linguistic principles and theories expounded and put into practice in London and elsewhere by my colleagues and myself are of particular value because most of the work has been done on non-Indo-European languages.

He goes on to comment: Such principles and methods must serve all people and all languages, and the great majority are non-Indo-European.

Introduction

The distinction between general theory and particular descriptions has thus been part of systemic functional linguistics from the start and has been stated in many places (e.g. Halliday 1961). The general theory was never based on English and was thus never anglo-centric: most of the work by Firth and his colleagues and students in the 1930s–1950s was on languages other than English and this was in fact an important force behind the development of prosodic theory as well as other aspects of Firth’s system-structure theory. And as previously mentioned Halliday’s own work started with Chinese rather than with English in the late 1940s. (One of his first research assignments was on a project directed by Professor Wang Li, studying dialects of Chinese in the Pearl River delta.) Matthiessen has been amused to note that while some linguists in the “West” have characterized systemic functional theory as anglo-centric because of their apparent lack of awareness of the linguistic range within the Firthian and systemic traditions, scholars in China have told him on various occasions that they can see how Halliday’s experience with describing Chinese has influenced his description of English! (One very specific example might be the recognition in the description of English of the three-term system of ‘relational’ clauses – ‘intensive’, ‘possessive’, ‘circumstantial’. This contrast is as “real” in English, as it is in Chinese; but while it is somewhat “cryptic” in English, it is more overt in Chinese because of the three general verbs shi “be”, you “have” and zai “be at/on/etc.”. But there are many more general aspects of his description of English that Halliday first worked out in his investigation of Chinese in the 1950s, such as the “ergative model” in the account of transitivity and “information flow” in the clause.) Systemic functional linguistics is also thought to be anglo-centric because Halliday’s (1985/1994) introduction to functional grammar develops an interpretation of English; but this is again due to lack of familiarity with the central goals of systemic work. It has always been held to be very important to develop comprehensive accounts that bring out the particular character of a given language (whether it is English, French, German, Dutch, Danish, Chinese, Vietnamese, Akan, Arabic, Telugu, Korean, Japanese, Tagalog, Pitjantjatjara, Gooniyandi, Weri, Zapotec, Auslan or any other language), treating it in its own right rather than as a variant of a universal motif that is actually based on Latin, English or some other dominant language. Even the early systemic functional framework of the 1960s and the beginning of the 1970s was applied to various languages, including for example Barnwell (1969) on Mbembe, Hasan (1972) on Urdu, Huddleston & Uren (1969) on French, Mock (1969) on Nzema, Prakasam (1972) on Telugu. It is also important to emphasize that the description of English should be anglo-centric, just as the description of Chinese should be sino-centric! The point is that the descriptions of particular languages should be designed to bring out the special features of these languages; they should not make them look like variants of some universal code derived from English, Latin or some other language with which linguists have

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had abundant experience. For example, the description of the interpersonal clause grammar of English (see Section 1.4.1) makes it look interestingly different from that of French (Section 2.3) and that of Vietnamese (Section 7.2.2); but this is a positive “feature”, not a negative “bug”. The fact that typology has always been only one among many research tasks on the agenda for systemic functional theory has important implications for the systemic functional approach to typology. In purely practical terms, it has meant that there have been fewer people available to pursue typological questions: the research agenda within systemic functional linguistics has never been set only, or even primarily, by questions internal to linguistics – as has happened in “theoretical” linguistics in the US in particular – but rather by questions about languages, questions that have often come up in contexts of research application such as educational, stylistic, clinical and computational contexts. So those of us who have worked on systemic functional typology have always been engaged with many other tasks as well. “Typology” in systemic functional linguistics has thus always interacted with other research concerns, including other multilingual research concerns such as comparative studies and translation studies in linguistics and multilinguality in computational linguistics (cf. Halliday 1957, 1966; Catford 1965; Ellis 1966; Steiner 1992; Steiner & Yallop 2001; Matthiessen 2001; Teich 2001), multimodal research concerns (Steiner 1988; Kress & van Leeuwen 1996; O’Toole 1994), and research concerned with variation within a given language (cf. Matthiessen 1993); and systemic functional work on typology has often been carried out in the context of some particular research application such as multilingual text generation (cf. Bateman, Matthiessen & Zeng 1999; Bateman et al. 1991; Teich 1999). The special contribution that systemic functional theory can make to typological studies derives in large part from the fact that it is a very general, rich and flexible theory that has been applied in a wide range of research contexts – a theory that has been designed to have more “power” than is needed for any single research area (such as typology) precisely because it has been applied to a range of areas.

.. Theory and description; the boundary between the two Let us now return to the distinction between the general theory of language and the descriptions of particular languages. Theory and description are ontologically quite distinct in systemic functional linguistics: theory is the theory of human language (or indeed, by extension, of semiotic systems in general); descriptions are descriptions of particular languages (or, by extension, of particular semiotic systems). Both theory and description are resources – resources for construing language (theory) and languages (descriptions). The emphasis in the development of

Introduction

systemic functional theory and of systemic functional descriptions has been on enriching our potential for interpreting linguistic phenomena, not on constraining it (cf. Halliday 1981). The general theory is thus a theory for construing language – more specifically, for construing language as one kind of semiotic system. In systemic theory, semiotic systems are interpreted as fourth-order systems in an ordered, linear typology of four orders of systems (Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: Chapter 13). This typology is ordered both in terms of complexity and in terms of “cosmogenesis” (cf. Layzer 1990; Delsemme 1998): first-order systems emerged before second-order systems; second-order systems emerged from first-order systems, adding a new level of organizational complexity; and so on. First-order systems are physical, second-order systems are biological, third-order systems are social, and fourth-order systems are semiotic. Each higher order of system represents a new level of complexity: the systems of that order are manifested as systems of a lower order, but in addition they embody a new (emergent) kind of property. Thus biological systems are physical systems plus “life” (ability to self-replicate with evolution as the mode of development), social systems are biological systems plus “value” (organization into social groups with division of labour), and semiotic systems are social systems plus “meaning”. Semiotic systems are simultaneously also social, biological and physical systems. At their own systemic level, they are meaning-making systems; their key principle of organization is that of stratification – stratification into “content” and “expression”. This principle is, as far as we know, unique to semiotic systems2 – in contrast to “constituency”, which seems to be a feature of systems of all orders. The linear typology of systems is important in the context of typology. It provides us with a framework for interpreting questions about language and the brain, and about language and culture – questions that are specifically concerned with inter-systemic correlations. But it also allows us to focus on individuals and the collective at different systemic orders of organization (cf. Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: 610–611; Firth 1950; Butt 1991; Lemke, 1995). This relates among other things to “population thinking” in the context of language typology and explorations of the evolution of language (cf. Nichols 1992). It might seem odd that the typology of systems does not include cognitive systems, but this is no oversight. Phenomena that are interpreted as cognitive in mainstream cognitive science are taken to be biological and/or semiotic in systemic functional linguistics (but see Fawcett, for example 1980, for a cognitive orientation within systemic work). For example, higher-order consciousness is seen as an emergent property in the evolution of the ever more complex brain – evolving together with language as a higher-order semiotic (see immediately below): Deacon (1992, 1997), Edelman (1992) and Halliday (1995). In contrast to cognitive linguists, we would thus seek to explain “cognition” by reference to language and other semiotic systems rather than the other way around; see Halliday

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& Matthiessen (1999) for an attempt to lay part of the foundation. This obviously includes a much more intersubjective orientation (cf. Trevarthen 1987), where the construction of knowledge is seen as part of the process of learning how to mean in interaction with others (Painter 1993, 1999). Language is one distinctive and unique kind of semiotic system – what is referred to as a higher-order semiotic (Halliday 1995). It is differentiated from other kinds of semiotic system by systemic theory in terms of stratification (Section 1.3.6) and metafunction (Section 1.3.4): language is interpreted as a tristratal semiotic (rather than a bistratal one) and as a metafunctional semiotic (rather than micro- or macro-functional one). The present kind of language can be assumed to be the third phase in a long evolutionary history of language, very likely starting before the last common ancestor we humans share with our closest primate cousins (for the evolutionary perspective, see Matthiessen 1999, forthc.). In terms of stratification, language has evolved beyond the bistratal organization (content/ expression) of protolanguage into a tristratal system with a distinct, stratum of lexicogrammar:3 semantics and lexicogrammar are content strata and phonology (sign or graphology) is the expression stratum. In terms of function, language has evolved beyond the microfunctional organization of protolanguage, where functions are complementary but mutually exclusive (making it possible to mean only one thing at a time) into a metafunctional system where functions are complementary and simultaneous (making it possible to mean more than one thing at the same time). Stratification and metafunction are two central semiotic dimensions in systemic theory and will be discussed in Section 1.3 below. In systemic functional linguistics, systemic theory thus differentiates language from other kinds of semiotic system, interpreting it as a tristratal and metafunctional semiotic – a higher-order semiotic. However, systemic theory does not differentiate among different “variants” of language such as English and Chinese; that is the task of systemic descriptions of different particular languages such as the ones presented in this book. Thus the fact that both English and Chinese construe human experience of time grammatically is a general feature of language as a higher-order semiotic system: time and other phenomena of experience are construed lexicogrammatically within the ideational metafunction. However, the different grammatical models for construing time grammatically that English and Chinese have evolved fall within the domain of description: the English temporal model is described as a tense system, construed logically within the logical mode of the ideational metafunction (Halliday 1994; Matthiessen 1995a, 1996), whereas the Chinese one is described as an aspect system, construed experientially within the experiential mode of the ideational metafunction (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume). The observation that the tense system of English and the aspect system of Chinese represent poles on a tense/aspect continuum from the western to the eastern zones of the Eurasian continent with Russian and other Slavic lan-

Introduction

guages construing time in mixed tense/aspect systems (cf. Gotteri 1996) constitutes a descriptive generalization, not a theoretical one. The theory is of course used in interpreting temporal systems of tense and aspect. In particular, the theory specifies two modes of construal – the logical mode and the experiential mode (see further below), so in describing temporal systems, we can explore them in logical terms or in experiential terms. Thus it appears that the English tense system is construed on a logical model as temporal serialization, whereas the tense systems of certain languages spoken in Africa are construed on an experiential model as temporal taxonomy (cf. Section 10.3.1 on the division of labour between the logical and experiential modes of construing experience in the final chapter). But the particular temporal categories that are postulated – “past”, “present”, “future”; “primary tense”, “secondary tense”; “past”, “non-past”; “recent past”, “distant past”; and so on – are descriptive, not theoretical. Systemic linguistics thus draws the line between theory and description in such a way that theoretical assumptions are very general and all the categories of particular languages belong to the domain of description. This is of course only one way of drawing the line between theory and description. Where the line is drawn varies considerably across different linguistic schools. For example, outside systemic functional linguistics, categories such as NP + VP, Subject, Object and Topic have at one time or another been taken as theoretical primitives and thus been assumed to be “universal”. In systemic functional linguistics these categories would all be taken as descriptive rather than theoretical, that is, they would be deployed as categories posited in the description of particular languages. The systemic view on where the line is to be drawn between theory and descriptions has been adopted to ensure that descriptive categories are not merely postulated and then assumed to have some kind of universal status but that they have to be justified in the course of description of every language. Whether or not such descriptive categories can be applied in the description of several languages (or even all languages) is an empirical question, not a theoretical one; and it is a question to be decided only after the categories have been independently motivated in comprehensive descriptions of every language. Descriptive categories thus have to be justified by reference to the patterns of a particular language – not by appeal to some abstract universal. This principle was already part of Firthian practice and was articulated by Firth (1957: 21–22): Though it is found convenient to employ the words noun, verb, pronoun, particle, for example, it must not be assumed that in all languages, nouns and verbs are to be found as the universalists might express it. It has been held that in some Melanesian languages the noun-verb distinction is unnecessary. The ‘universalist’ fallacy is constantly with us. It is sometimes said that there are ‘no real adjectives’ in Swahili, and that ‘adjec-

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tives are really verbs’ in Japanese. The first step towards adequacy in the higher levels of linguistic analysis is the same rigorous control of formal categories set up and of the terms applied to them, as is now the rule in all forms of phonological analysis. This does not mean that the analysis of discourse – of the paragraph and the sentence, for example – can be directly developed from phonemic procedures or even devised by analogy from such procedures. . . . Reverting to the discussion of grammatical categories in closed systems for any language, the ‘universalist’ is reminded that the grammatical ‘meanings’ are determined by their inter-relations in the system set up for that language. A nominative in a four case system would in this sense necessarily have a different ‘meaning’ from a nominative in a two case or in a fourteen case system, for example.

Firth’s point was that the grammatical categories of a language are “determined by their inter-relations in the system set up for that language”; this is absolutely fundamental in systemic functional work. The point is illustrated by the system networks that are presented throughout this book in the accounts of the various languages discussed here. Some specific illustrations will be given in the final chapter of the book, such as the comparison of the grammar of ‘mental’ clauses in English, Japanese and Tagalog. One consequence of Firth’s point is that if categories such as “causation” or “possession” are to be compared or typologized across languages, they have to be shown to emerge as language-specific categories that can be located systemically within the total description of each particular language. (In other words, the valeur of a category has to be specified within the relevant subsystem of language; it is not sufficient just to operate with some signification, possibly assumed to be universal: cf. Hasan 1985, on the complementarity of valeur and signification in language.) We have established that theory and description are kept distinct in systemic linguistics; but what is the relationship between the two? The relationship can be modelled in terms of abstraction: the general theory is more abstract than particular descriptions. More specifically, the general theory of language stands in a realizational relationship to descriptions of particular languages: the description of a particular language is a realization of the general theory (cf. Matthiessen 1995a: 58–60; Matthiessen & Nesbitt 1996; Teich 1999, 2001). This realizational relationship between theory and description is represented diagrammatically in Figure 1.1 on page 17. For example, “Subject” is a category used in the description of a number of languages (but not all – see for example Martin’s account of Tagalog and Rose’s account of Pitjantjatjara in this book) and it realizes the theoretical category of “interpersonal structural function at the stratum of lexicogrammar”. Given this interpretation of Subject, the theory makes the very general prediction that its semantic correlate will be significant in dialogic negotiation, but the theory does not indicate that Subject will combine with Finite in English to form the Mood

Introduction

element (cf. Section 1.4.1 below). This division of labour between theory and description is appropriate: semantically, Subject will always be a dialogic function; but the combination of Subject and Finite to form the Mood element is specific to certain languages only (English and German, for example; but not French, Chinese and Vietnamese). Within the realm of description there is of course still room for the identification of descriptive motifs and generalizations. This is the domain of descriptive typology and is the concern of the final chapter of this book. But such generalizations are still descriptive, not theoretical: they are generalizations about descriptive categories; they are not more abstract theoretical ones. The general theory interprets language as a multidimensional semiotic system; we have mentioned two dimensions so far – stratification and metafunction – and we will discuss these and other dimensions in Section 1.3 below. The multidimensional theoretical organization is “projected” onto the descriptions of particular languages, as illustrated first for English in Section 1.4 of this chapter and then for several other languages in the remaining chapters of the book. The description of a given language will thus fall somewhere within the multidimensional space defined by the general theory. As was pointed out above, the general theory has been designed to allow for considerable variation. Any particular descriptive categories such as the systems of mood, polarity and tense, the structural functions of Subject, Predicator, Actor, Goal, Deictic and Auxiliary, and the grammatical classes of nominal group, verb and preposition are realizations of categories defined by the theory – system, structural function, and class in the case of the illustration just given; but they are not themselves theoretical categories. Such descriptive categories are posited as part of comprehensive descriptions of particular languages and as already noted they have to be motivated and justified by reference to the languages in question. Once comprehensive descriptions of particular languages have been established, it becomes possible to look for typological generalizations across these descriptions. For example, if the system of polarity has been established in the descriptions of a large number of languages, we can ask whether it is possible to make a typological generalization about the relative markedness of the terms of the system, ‘positive’ and ‘negative’: is the ‘negative’ always the marked term? This principle has informed the present book: the bulk of the book consists of “executive summaries” of more comprehensive descriptions of a range of languages and the final chapter attempts to identify descriptive motifs and generalizations. If we embark on a description of a language that has not previously been described in terms of systemic functional theory or indeed any other linguistic theory, we can build up the description from scratch using only the general theory as a guide. In many ways, this would be the ideal approach because it would avoid the danger of imposing (our experience of) a description of another language on the new language being described – a danger manifested in the way that missionary linguists imposed the categories of traditional descriptions of Latin on languages

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around the world and in the way that modern generative linguists have imposed the categories of formal descriptions of English on languages around the world. Tozzer’s warning from the early 20th century in the context of his work on “Maya grammar” is still valid: The Spanish priests did not stop with translations of documents into the native languages but they wrote grammars and collected vocabularies as well. These grammars and dictionaries exist in great numbers. There is hardly a dialect spoken in Mexico or Central America that has not some sort of grammar dealing with the structure of the language. The difficulty met with in using these grammars written by the Spanish is the same as that found wherever a primitive language has been studied and recorded along the lines and with the corresponding forms found in Spanish, Latin, or some other Indo-European grammar. The Spanish priest thought he had successfully written a grammar of a native language if he had found forms in that language to correspond to every term in his Spanish grammar. The desire to find words which fitted the different categories of thought expressed in his own grammar often outweighed his keenness in realizing that many grammatical forms used in Spanish could not be properly expressed in the native language. Parallels were sought for every form in the Spanish or Latin. The investigators usually found some native term which seemed to them to conform to the same expression in their own language. If a native did not seem able at first to give words for the pluperfect tense in his language, the more one insisted that there must be such forms the sooner the native would give something which superficially seemed to be a pluperfect. The whole difficulty lies in the fact that it is impossible to build up a grammar of a primitive language by following a Latin or Spanish model. This rigid adherence to such a model leads to two defects. Forms are given the investigator, often after repeated questioning, which only vaguely express corresponding forms in Spanish or Latin. These are often unnatural and are compounded so as to express in a most artificial way the idea desired. The second defect is the greater as scores of native expressions are entirely overlooked and are never recorded in the early grammars as there are no forms corresponding to them in Latin. (Tozzer 1921/1977: 7–8)

This is a warning that is supported by the Boasian, anthropological linguistic tradition and it is one which is hopefully heeded by systemic functional linguists (with the recognition that there are no “primitive languages”!). Thus when Minh Duc Thai began to explore the grammar of Vietnamese in systemic functional terms, he made no descriptive assumptions based on English or indeed on any other language about the textual organization of the clause. Instead he selected Vietnamese texts from a range of registers, each with a clear, easily identifiable method of development, and he then analysed the clauses realizing these texts to find out whether

Introduction

there was any correlation with “method of development” (thus following Martin’s 1983 model of moving up to the discourse semantics in work across languages to avoid being trapped in grammatical assumptions inherited from other descriptions). It turned out that there was: the beginning of Vietnamese clauses varied according to the method of development. This then suggested a thematic interpretation of the beginning of the clause in Vietnamese: see further Thai (1998; this volume). There is of course ample evidence for making an assumption along these lines – including Li & Thompson’s (1976) classic contribution to typology in this area. But the point was that the description of the Vietnamese system had to be built up from, and justified in terms of, patterns in Vietnamese text. (There are in fact two important methodological principles at work here. The first is to base the interpretation on the language being described; the second is to develop the description of the language by reference to evidence from text instances – see Section 1.3.2 below.) However, the type of approach where no assumptions are made based on other languages and where the description of the lexicogrammatical system is built up from observations of discursive instances takes a considerable amount of time, so as a practical heuristic, it may be helpful to model the description of one language on the description of another – this is the method of transfer comparison (see Halliday 1960/6; Teich 1999): In the comparison of languages we may take advantage of the fact that . . . there are always several different ways of describing the same linguistic phenomenon; it is thus possible to adopt the description of one language to that of another. The aim of this ‘transfer comparison’ is to draw attention to the resemblances between the two languages. (Halliday 1966: 39)

As a complement or as an alternative to transfer comparison, we can draw on a pool of typological generalizations. Thus we can attempt to set up a generalized functional map of the grammar of languages organized according to metafunction and rank (cf. Section 1.4 below). Such a map should identify core systems such as mood, transitivity and theme that are found in one language after another, specifying the envelope of variation within each system (see the final chapter of this book). It should also identify systems that expand these core systems but which are more likely to vary from one language to another – systems such as politeness, honorification, localization, determination – and systems that expand these core systems but which are found in complementary variants – systems such as tense versus aspect, modality versus evidentiality. If the method of transfer comparison is used, it is important to remember the source of the description and to avoid taking the new description too seriously or using it as direct evidence for further typological generalizations! A fundamental way of checking any account of the system of a language is always to apply it in

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extensive discourse analysis – a task that has been central on the systemic functional research agenda since the beginning.4 Thus major systemic functional studies of various languages include lengthy examples of discourse analysis. While there is not enough space in the present volume to demonstrate the use of discourse analysis, many of the contributors have produced longer works that include examples of grammar-based discourse analysis.

. Mapping language – the dimensions of systemic functional theory In the previous section, we discussed the distinction between theory and description. In this section, we will be concerned with systemic functional theory, and in the following section, we will turn to systemic functional description.

.. Language as multidimensional semiotic space As already noted, systemic theory is a resource for construing language as a higherorder semiotic system. “Construing language as a higher-order semiotic system” means mapping the semiotic resources of language – mapping its potential for making meaning. The cartographic metaphor informs the descriptions of languages in this book (cf. Matthiessen 1995a, on “lexicogrammatical cartography”). The metaphor works well together with the common way of conceptualizing language and other systems of meaning in terms of an abstract semiotic space: maps are comprehensive models of a semiotic space, showing how everything is located in relation to everything else. The theory should enable us to see and represent all features of the semiotic landscape of language, including those that are covert and might not be covered by a traditional map. This is of course particularly important in the context of typological work, where we have to be able to interpret a range of potentially very different languages. The theory provides us with the potential for mapping them out in very general terms, scaffolding the particular description developed for each language being investigated. The systemic functional approach to semiotic cartography is holistic rather than componential (see Matthiessen & Halliday, in prep.: Chapter 1, and cf. Capra 1996, on these two approaches as alternative strands in scientific thinking): comprehensive maps are constructed first and then local areas are mapped at a greater scale of delicacy. Even if the scale of the global map has to be such that the detailed features of many domains cannot be discerned at first, the global map makes it absolutely clear where those domains are located in relation to one another and in relation to the overall semiotic space. This holistic approach is based on

Introduction THEORY theory of (human) language as a higher-order semiotic

realization (abstraction)

DESCRIPTIONS

description of language A description of language B description of language C descriptive motifs & generalizations across languages – descriptive typology

description of language D description of language E description of language F ...

generalization

Figure 1.1 The relationship between theory and description

systems thinking rather than on the Cartesian analysis that informs the componential approach. The componential approach has been the dominant one in western scholarship, going back at least to Descartes and the early phase of modern science (where it served as a way of coping with the complexity of the phenomena being observed). It has been characteristic of a great deal of work in linguistics – including formal linguistics in the 20th century; one central manifestation of this approach has been the focus on constituency analysis. In contrast, the holistic approach has developed on the periphery of the componential mainstream. It has informed the development of ecological thinking in biology and of contextual thinking in anthropology and linguistics; and in the second half of the 20th century it has been embodied in systems thinking. Holistic thinking is characteristic of systemic functional linguis-

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tics; two central manifestations of this approach are the focus on context and the foregrounding of systemic organization. The cartographic concern in systemic functional linguistics is thus one central aspect of the holistic approach. A systemic functional map of language construes it as being organized along a number of semiotic “dimensions”. Two of these dimensions have already been mentioned – stratification and metafunction; these are the dimensions along which language can be distinguished from other semiotic systems. But the total semiotic space of the resources of language is multidimensional. In the remainder of this section, we will introduce the dimensions of systemic functional theory that will be needed in this book. The dimensions organize either the whole system of language in context or each stratal subsystem. The former may be called global and the latter local: see Table 1.1. The dimensions intersect with one another to organize the multidimensional semiotic space of language in context. This space can be mapped by means of a series of two-dimensional matrices (see Matthiessen & Halliday, in prep.: Chapter 2); since the bulk of this book is concerned with lexicogrammar, we will only present one such matrix – the lexicogrammatical metafunction-rank matrix to be introduced in Section 1.4 below.

.. Instantiation (system to text) Imagine that we’re embarking on the description of a language that is being described scientifically for the first time. Since there are no existing descriptions of the system of this language, our main source of information will be what we can observe. What we can observe is the language as text – as language functioning in context. (Note that the term “text” covers all modalities; it may be spoken, written or signed.) The texts we observe will be very varied in terms of what contexts they occur in, how they are organized, how long they are, and so on; and our task will be to collect a significant range of texts, taking note of their contexts and making sure we include the contexts that are critical to daily life. These texts must in the first instance be naturally occurring ones so that we can be sure that we have not disturbed the phenomena we are trying to study as we would be sure to do if we were to elicit examples based on, for example, categories in another language. We can of course make our goal the description of each text as a phenomenon in its own right. The result would be a collection of commentaries on the model of explication de texte; but we would not be able to generalize beyond the individual texts. If our field of study was meteorology, this would be analogous to observing the weather on a number of occasions and then going on to produce commentaries on each instance that had been observed without generalizing across all these instances (much as we would in a narrative but unlike what we would do in a sci-

Introduction

Table 1.1 Semiotic dimensions of systemic functional theory Dimension global stratification

local

Regions within dimension context / language [(discourse) semantics / lexicogrammar / phonology (graphology, sign)] instantiation potential (system) ⇐ subpotential | instance type ⇒ instance (text) [i.e. a cline between ‘potential’ and ‘instance’] metafunction [language:] ideational (logical & experiential) / interpersonal / textual [context:] field / tenor / mode rank [semantics:] variable according to register and metafunction [lexicogrammar:] clause / group-phrase / word / morpheme (as in e.g. English) [phonology:] tone group / foot / syllable / phoneme (as in e.g. English) axis paradigmatic (systemic) / syntagmatic (structural)

entific report). But meteorologists generalize beyond the instances of weather that they have observed in order to describe weather patterns and even the climate. Weather patterns and the climate are not different phenomena from the weather: they are all part of the same realm of meteorological phenomena; they differ only in generality. A weather pattern is nothing more than an accumulation of a number of instances of weather; and the climate is nothing more than an accumulation of a number of weather patterns. By the same token, today’s weather here in Sydney is nothing more than an instance of Sydney’s climate. Today’s weather and Sydney’s climate are related to one another as instance to potential along a (meteorological) cline of instantiation: today’s weather is an instance of the climate; the climate is the “potentialization” of the weather distilled out of innumerable instances of weather. The relationship takes the form of a cline, not of a dichotomy: weather and climate are the end poles of this cline; weather patterns and subclimates fall on a range somewhere in between these poles. As observers, we can measure properties of the weather – temperature, pressure, humidity, and so on. We cannot observe the climate directly; we have to infer all patterns beyond the instance pole of the cline of instantiation. The cline of instantiation is a dimension that organizes systems of all kinds – physical systems like that of meteorology, biological systems, social systems and semiotic systems. In the realm of semiotic systems, text lies at the instance end of the cline. Text is “semiotic weather”; but what about the “semiotic climate”, weather patterns and subclimates? There are in fact clear semiotic analogies. The “semiotic climate” is the overall linguistic system; it is the meaning potential of a language.5 Thus a text instantiates the linguistic system; and the linguistic system “potentializes” innumerable texts.

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Instantiation can be stated probabilistically: terms in the systemic potential will be instantiated in text with a certain degree of probability; for example, in the system of polarity (‘positive’ / ‘negative’), the probability that ‘positive’ will be instantiated is 0.9 while the probability that ‘negative’ will be instantiated is 0.1 (see Halliday & James 1993). But probability is nothing but the “potentialization” of relative frequency in text, so any new instantiation of one term or another in the unfolding of text will perturb the system. Systemic probabilities provide us with a way of identifying subtle similarities and differences across languages – similarities and differences which would not be seen if we were to operate with only qualitative, categorical statements (which turn out to be just the limiting case of a probability of 1 or 0; cf. Givón 1979: 26–28, 51–53, on Subject and definiteness). Text and system are the poles of the semiotic cline of instantiation. Intermediate between these two poles are patterns that are more general than specific texts but more specific than the overall system. These patterns have been described as text types, registers or genres. (These terms refer to categories that are different; but for present purposes we can say that they refer to the region intermediate between text and system.) Text types (registers or genres) range over regions along the cline of instantiation; they should be conceived of as fuzzy families rather than as strict taxonomies. As observers of language, we investigate properties of texts and move beyond texts along the cline of instantiation to characterize text types or the overall linguistic system by inferring generalizations based on particular texts. This is the methodology of corpus linguistics: we collect a sample of texts or text extracts that is extensive enough to be representative of some higher point along the cline of instantiation – of a text type or a family of text types, or of the overall system. How far we move along the cline of instantiation towards the system pole is of course a matter of choice. J. R. Firth was wary of moving too far away from the instance pole of what we now theorize as the cline of instantiation; he preferred to operate with what we might call the generalized instance and developed the notion of restricted languages. However, once the cline of instantiation has been developed as a semiotic dimension within our overall theory, there is less reason to worry about moving all the way to the system pole: the extent to which it is possible to move towards that pole while still developing reliable descriptions depends on how much text can be observed. The cline of instantiation is an important theoretical dimension in linguistic research in general and in typological research in particular because it makes it possible to locate text as a source of “data” in relation to generalizations about text types and the overall system. It also makes it possible to compare register ranges across languages (cf. Rose 1998, 2001) and across diachronic variants of one language (cf. Steiner & Teich, this volume) while at the same time ensuring that languages are typologized in terms of comparable registers. However, this pic-

Introduction

ture has been clouded by two conceptual dichotomies postulated by linguists in the last century. At the beginning of the century, Saussure distinguished between langue and parole; and around the middle of the century, Chomsky distinguished between “competence” and “performance”. Parole and performance are, in different ways, conceptualizations of text and they are thus located at the instance pole of the cline of instantiation, and langue and competence are, again in different ways, conceptualizations of the system and are thus located at the potential pole of the cline; but both Saussure’s and Chomsky’s proposals had the effect of directing subsequent research away from the instance pole (with certain important exceptions such as the work undertaken and inspired by J. R. Firth; one early example of typological interest is Mitchell 1957). Saussurean structuralist research focused on langue and Chomskyan generative research on competence; both traditions ignored text. The reaction has tended to be a move to the other extreme – focus on the instance pole combined with a rejection of the system, as has happened in both poststructuralism and conversation analysis, with the latter influencing “West-Coast” functionalism. This seems to us to be an example of the typical swing between “thesis” and “antithesis” in the history of ideas; the synthesis is the reconceptualization of the dichotomy as a cline – the cline of instantiation. The dichotomous conceptualizations of the cline of instantiation also had repercussions within typological research. Most “classical” typological work has been concerned almost exclusively with the system pole of the cline of instantiation and text has played little or no role. This changed within typological work based on “West-Coast” functionalism, with studies such as Hopper & Thompson (1980), Hopper (1982), Givón (1979, 1983), DuBois (1987), and Thompson (1988). Here the concern with “discourse analysis” emerging from the 1970s was combined with typological work. Ultimately this seemed to lead to a crisis of confidence for a number of scholars because they began to question how far it is possible to generalize beyond (small samples of) text to make generalizations about (what we have here called) the linguistic system. (These are questions we can recognize from both poststructuralism and conversation analysis; and they echo Firth’s concerns from the mid-20th century mentioned above.) The solution is, we believe, to model the relationship between text and system as a cline, while rejecting dichotomies that treat the two poles as different kinds of phenomena, and to relate regions along the cline quite explicitly to contextual patterns. The cline of instantiation is also important in the context of typological work because it defines different domains of semogenesis – the creation of meaning (see Halliday & Matthiessen 1999). At the instance pole of the cline, semogenesis is manifested as logogenesis; this is the creation of meaning in the course of the instantiation (unfolding) of text. At the potential pole of the cline, semogenesis is manifested as phylogenesis; this is the creation of meaning in the course of






the evolution of the linguistic system. Within typology, there has been a growing interest in phylogenesis (see for example Harris & Campbell 1995); and grammaticalizaton, the evolution of grammatical patterns, has received particular attention (e.g. Hopper & Traugott 1993; Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994; Traugott & Heine 1991). The cline of instantiation helps us see how grammaticalization at the system pole of the cline emerges from logogenetic patterns: distilled out of relative frequency in text, systemic probabilities gradually change (the classic study showing this was Ellegård’s (1953) investigation of what we might now call the gradual grammaticalization of do in English as a general auxiliary in different grammatical environments). In terms of linguistic cartography, we can obviously develop maps of any region along the cline of instantiation; but the most comprehensive map will be a survey of the overall meaning potential of a language: this map will allow us to locate text types and texts within the total semiotic space and it will make it possible to reason about what would constitute a “corpus” of instances that is large enough and registerially balanced enough to shed light on the system. The accounts presented in this book all map the overall linguistic system located at the potential pole of the cline of instantiation; but they are based on investigation of a large number of text instances and also include descriptions of sample texts (which can be assigned to text types), showing the system being instantiated in particular contexts.

.. Axis (kind of order: system and structure) How do we map the meaning potential of a language, the subpotential of a text type or the “flow” of instantiation of a text? To answer this question, we have to introduce another semiotic dimension – that of axis. Axis is the familiar distinction between two modes of semiotic organization – paradigmatic and syntagmatic, also called system and structure or more informally “choice” and “chain”. We could map the meaning potential in terms of either of these two modes of axial organization. Both are in fact involved in specifications of the potential. For example, if we say that a clause has the structure “Theme Rheme” (the functional element Theme followed by the functional element Rheme), we are stating the structural potential of the clause. But it is the paradigmatic axis that allows us to map the meaning potential of a language because this mode of organization takes the form of global networks of contrasting options – represented by means of the system network of systemic functional theory. Because the systemic mode of organization allows us to map the meaning potential of a language, systemic functional theory foregrounds system (paradigmatic relations) over structure (syntagmatic relations) as the point of departure for language description, whereas most other theories have foregrounded structure over

Introduction

system although the situation has begun to change with the emphasis on feature “structures” in frameworks such as HPSG. This special orientation gives rise to a distinctive organization in the design of the model, for which we will provide a brief introduction6 here. We’re in a bakeshop and overhear the server say “It’s right there in front of you.” How might we take an interest in this? One way would be to consider what was said in relation to alternatives. The server has chosen to state something, instead of asking something or telling the client to do something: It’s right there in front of you. Is it right there in front of you? What’s right there in front of you? Be right there (by six).

‘stating’ ‘asking if ’ ‘asking what’ ‘telling to’

And we could consider how these choices are related to one another. How is asking distinguished from stating? Within asking, how is ‘asking if ’ distinguished from ‘asking what’? How is ‘telling to’ different from any of these? On this tack, we are in interested paradigmatic relations – in precisely how what is heard (the instance) is related to, and contrasts with, what could have been (the potential). Another way to take an interest would be to look into what was said and consider its own internal structure – the parts of what’s there. Based on the punctuation, for example, there appears to be a strong bond between the parts of It’s, which we could confirm by adding a tag to the clause; the tag would pick up just these elements (shown in bold): It’s right there in front of you, is it? And right appears to go with there, since we can leave out right or substitute here for the whole phrase and still have a plausible sentence: It’s there in front of you. It’s here in front of you. Pursuing such procedures (cf. Harris 1946; Wells 1947) we can arrive at an analysis of structure. On this tack, we are interested syntagmatic relations – in how the parts of what is heard are related to one another. In linguistics, the strategies for modelling system in relation to structure are various (see Hockett 1954; Robins 1959, for discussion). In SFL, the modelling strategy is to treat structural relations as derived from paradigmatic ones – that is, to treat structure as a means for realizing choice. To illustrate this, let’s take the English system of mood. Suppose this time, we overhear a little more of the conversation in the bakeshop.

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[Server] Why do you wonder? It’s right there in front of you. Take one. Can you reach them? Now we have a range of alternatives instantiated, to which we might assign traditional Latinate labels as follows: It’s right there in front of you. Can you reach them? Why do you wonder? Take one.

‘stating’ ‘asking if ’ ‘asking why’ ‘telling to’

declarative interrogative: polar interrogative: wh imperative

More to the point is the basis for this labelling, once we import it into an analysis of English grammar. In this regard we might note the absence of a Subject and a verb realizing tense or modality in the imperative, and the presence of both of these features in the declarative and interrogative. We might also note that the Subject and realization of tense or modality is sequenced differently in the declarative (Subject preceding) and interrogative (Subject following). In addition there is the presence of an initial interrogative word in the ‘wh’ interrogative. On these and other grounds we might suggest that we need to do more than simply list the choices we’re reviewing here – we need to be more explicit about their interdependency. A notation for expressing these relationships as an image is presented as Figure 1.2. Read from left to right this diagram opposes imperatives to indicatives, divides indicatives into declaratives and interrogatives, and further divides interrogatives into polar and wh varieties (the square brackets in the network indicate alternatives; e.g. if indicative, then declarative or interrogative – but not both and not neither). Alongside information about how mood choices are related to one another, this network of systems specifies their structural consequences. These realization statements are included in boxes just under the feature they realize.7 Thus, if the clause is indicative, it contains a Subject function, and a Finite function realizing tense or modality (‘+’ means ‘include’ – that is, ‘present in the structure of the unit in question’); if it is declarative, the Subject precedes the Finite, whereas if it is interrogative, the Finite precedes the Subject (‘^’ means ‘is followed by’); and wh interrogatives have an additional Wh function, which conflates with something else (Subject, Complement or Adjunct; ‘/’ means ‘conflate (unify) with another function’) and comes first (‘#^’ means ‘initial position’). More delicate features (to the right) inherit realizations from less delicate ones (to the left); this helps to clarify the nexus between system and its structural output in the model. On the basis of this network and closely related reasoning and systems, we can provide structural analysis of particular examples. For Can you reach them? for example, we can recognize a Finite function realizing modality (can), followed by the Subject (you); these are the two functions that are replayed in English tags (e.g.

Introduction

Figure 1.2 English mood – some key systems and realizations

for Australian English, Can you reach them, can you?). These are followed by the Predicator (the rest of the verbal group, apart from realizations of tense or modality – reach), which is in turn followed by the Complement (defined as a potential Subject, had the voice been passive – them): Can you reach them Finite Subject Predicator Complement As the network and its realization statements indicate, system and structure in the model are mutually defining. So to expand our description, we need to consider new phenomena from both a paradigmatic and a syntagmatic perspective. Take exclamatives,8 for example: What an inviting cake that is! These resemble indicative declaratives as far as the presence and sequencing of Subject and Finite are concerned (that is). Like wh interrogatives, they include an initial Wh function – but one with a distinctive realization (contrast the exclamative what an inviting cake with the interrogative what cake). On these grounds we might include exclamatives alongside non-exclamative declaratives as a subtype of declarative, letting them inherit their Subject and Finite functions and sequencing, and specifying for them a distinctive Wh function (as outlined in Figure 1.3). Reasoning along similar lines we might test a system network against data – samples of text instances, to see if its predictions about realization are borne out. Consider, for example, wh interrogatives in which the Wh function conflates with Subject, Complement and Adjunct: What’s right there in front of you? Wh/Subject What do you want? Wh/Complement Why do you wonder? Wh/Adjunct

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Figure 1.3 Expanding mood – exclamatives

The second and third of these are fine; they can be derived from the network. But the first cannot – because its Subject comes before its Finite, and the realization statement for interrogative predicts the reverse. This is a crisis for the description. One way round the problem is to specify the sequence of Subject and Finite at a later stage in delicacy, not for interrogatives in general, but for different types of interrogative. This solution would treat Wh/Subject interrogatives as exceptions – as the one kind of interrogative with a Subject before Finite sequence like declaratives. This would be descriptively adequate; but would it explain the exception?

.. Metafunction (mode of meaning) Probably not . . . for explanation we’d need to look further afield, to related sets of choices affecting word order. This takes us to another semiotic dimension of complementarities – the notion of metafunction. The “modularity” at issue here has to do with perspective – with different ways of looking at the same thing. SFL suggests that three orientations are essential to understanding linguistic phenomena, referred to as the ideational, interpersonal and textual metafunctions. Systemically, these “modules” have to do with clusters of relatively interdependent choices; structurally they have to do with different kinds of realization pattern (particulate, prosodic and periodic). To generalize, they have to do with complementary modes of meaning – ideational resources for construing our experience of the world, interpersonal resources for enacting our social relations, and textual resources for managing the flow of information as we interact. In part, what we are introducing here is the notion of cross-classification. For example, the mood choices we introduced above can be taken up more or less independently of what we are talking about. Traditionally, cross-classification is illustrated in tables, such as Table 1.2, which presents a paradigm of mood selections in relation to process types.

Introduction

Table 1.2 Cross-classification of mood and process type declarative interrogative imperative

material You can touch me. Can you touch me? Touch me.

mental You can see me. Can you see me? See me.

relational You can be me. Can you be me? Be me.

This kind of display is effective for two simultaneous dimensions. However, once we factor in a third perspective, Theme marking, the paradigm becomes more difficult to read, as shown in Table 1.3. Table 1.3 Cross-classifying mood, process type and theme declarative + marked Theme interrogative + marked Theme imperative + marked Theme

material I’ll go today. Today, I’ll go.

mental I’ll see Tom today. Today, I’ll see Tom.

relational I’ll be there today. Today, I’ll be there.

Will I go today? Today, will I go?

Will I see Tom today? Today, will I see Tom.

Will I be there today? Today, will I be there?

Go there today. Today, go there.

See Tom today. Today, see Tom.

Be there today. Today, be there.

For multidimensional analysis, a system network provides a more effective display of relevant parameters. The systemic representation in Figure 1.4 uses a brace to signify that choices for theme, mood and transitivity are simultaneously available – as exemplified in Table 1.3 above. These three systems reflect the metafunctional organization of English clause grammar, from the perspectives of textual (theme), interpersonal (mood) and ideational (transitivity) meaning. Seen as system, metafunctions are predictions about the relative independence and interdependency of systems. For example, if we introduce aspects of polarity and tagging into the discussion, the association of these systems with mood is clear. Exclamatives, for instance, can be positive but not negative: What an inviting cake that is! *What an inviting cake that isn’t!9 This interaction is shown with the I/T superscript notation on the relevant features in Figure 1.5 (i.e. ‘if exclamative, then positive’). For most speakers of English, imperatives and declaratives can be tagged, but not exclamatives or interrogatives: It’s right there in front of you, isn’t it? *What an enticing cake that is, isn’t it? *Why do you wonder, don’t you? Take one, won’t you.

declarative exclamative interrogative: wh imperative

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Figure 1.4 Simultaneous clausal systems – theme, mood and transitivity

Introduction

Although, for Australians, and some British speakers, a tag on a polar interrogative is possible, if the polarity is positive: Can you reach them, can you? *Can’t you reach them, can you? These interdependencies have been wired into Figure 1.5 using a left-facing brace (meaning ‘and’) and a left-facing bracket (meaning ‘or’). Already the clustering of mood, tagging and polarity as interpersonal systems is clear. And we still have to deal with the choice of reversed or constant polarity in tags, since the choice is only available for positive declaratives and imperatives. Wiring this in would make the clustering denser still. ‘declarative’ It’s right there in front of you, is it? It’s right there in front of you, isn’t it? *It isn’t there, isn’t it? It isn’t there, is it?

positive positive negative negative

constant reversed constant reversed

‘imperative’ Take one, will you? Take one, won’t you? *Don’t take one, won’t you? Don’t take one, will you?

positive positive negative negative

constant reversed constant reversed

Seen as structure, metafunctions are predictions about the nature of their structural realization. Ideational resources are associated with particulate forms of realization – they construe experience of the world as bits and pieces. The particles may be organized orbitally, into configurations consisting of a nucleus, margin and periphery (experiential meaning); or they may be organized serially, into chains of interdependent steps (logical meaning). This orbital/serial complementarity is exemplified below for transitivity and projection respectively (following Halliday 1994; Matthiessen 1995a). orbital structure You would have thrown it across the room. Margin Nucleus Periphery Agent Process Medium Location serial structure Willie Russell wrote that Rita said that Trish thought the poetry was brilliant. Verbal Process “Locution “Locution ‘Idea

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imperative

clause

indicative +Subject +Finite positiveT

declarative Subject^Finite interrogative Finite^Subject

exclamativeI +Wh; #^Wh

non-tagged

non-exclamative polar

tagged

wh +Wh #^Wh^Finite

+Moodtag (Finite^Subject)

negative

Figure 1.5 Interdependency across polarity, mood and tagging

Interpersonal resources on the other hand are associated with prosodic forms of realization – they enact social reality as splashes of engagement, which saturate their domain. This is exemplified below for English polarity, which establishes the arguability of its interact and at the same time conditions the realization of any indefinite deixis within its scope (perhaps more strikingly so in the stigmatized non-standard realization You can’t buy no cakes from no bakeshops no more). prosodic structure You can’t buy any cakes from any bakeshops any more. neg neg neg neg Finally, textual resources are associated with periodic forms of realization – they organize semiotic reality as waves of information (the rhythm of discourse). This culminative patterning is exemplified below for Theme and New; Theme choices construct the speaker’s angle on his field (in this case someone’s poetry), while choices for New elaborate the point of the discourse (in this case the value of the Themes). periodic structure It is brilliant. It’s witty; it’s profound, full of style. Theme New It is brilliant It ‘s witty It ‘s profound (it) full of style A summary of these types of structure and their association with modes of meaning (Halliday’s metafunctions) is presented as Figure 1.6. Each type of structure is iconic in relation to its different mode of meaning. The subdivision of the ideational metafunction into experiential and logical modes has an important

Introduction

Mode of meaning

Type of structure

ideational meaning

particulate

– experiential

– orbital [mono-nuclear]

– logical

– serial [multi-nuclear]

interpersonal meaning

prosodic

textual meaning

periodic

Figure 1.6 Types of structure in relation to modes of meaning

reflex for system – namely, that logical systems are recursive ones, which allow choices to be taken up an indefinite number of times. Well-known examples include clause complexing, subclassification in nominal groups and English tense. For further discussion of this reading of Halliday (1979) in relation to grammar and discourse see Martin (1995, 2000) and Matthiessen (1988). Now that textual meaning has been brought into the picture, we can return to the problem of Subject and Finite sequencing in Wh/Subject interrogatives. From an interpersonal perspective, the sequencing seems exceptional; all other English interrogatives sequence the Finite before the Subject. From the perspective of textual meaning, on the other hand, the sequencing seems natural; the Wh function is made Theme, as it is elsewhere in the grammar (in exclamatives, relative clauses, noun clauses). In a sense English has two principles, one oriented to interaction – sequence the Finite before Subject in interrogatives; and the other oriented to information flow – put Wh functions first. In Wh/Subject interrogatives, these can’t both be true; and pressures of information management appear to win out over considerations of mood. The exceptional sequencing thus comes down to a matter of metafunctional tension, with the interpersonal and textual pulling in different directions. In this regard the trinocular vision metafunctions afford offers a distinctive perspective on apparent structural anomalies, and provides some basis

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for suggestions about the direction in which tensions are likely to resolve, both historically and typologically.

.. Rank (domain of meaning) It is conceivable that the semantic, lexicogrammatical or phonological potential of a language would be organized as a single, vast system network and that the options in this network would be realized within the structure of a single unit. However, while this possibility is conceivable, it is also clear that it is not manifested in any languages. The simple reason is that it would lead to linguistic systems that would be on the one hand too complex and on the other hand not powerful enough – an unsustainable combination. Instead what we find is that language has evolved another dimension along which the systemic resources within each stratum (semantics, lexicogrammar and phonology) are distributed. This is the dimension of rank – a dimension ordering units into a hierarchy. Rank keeps the overall systemic complexity manageable by “parcelling” it out into a number of system networks and it increases the systemic power by opening up the systemic potential repeatedly within a linguistic unit. This principle is a very general one that is familiar from systems of all the other orders – physical, social and biological (see for example Sheldrake 1988: 94–96). The dimension of rank focuses on the size of linguistic domains. In SFL this is again informed by both systemic and structural perspectives. From the point of view of system, as with metafunctions, we’re once again looking at clusters of interdependent features. But this time round the clustering has less to do with modes of meaning and more to do with the realizational extent of meaning and possibilities for recursion – with the particulate organization of the grammar into resources for clauses, resources for groups and phrases, resources for words, and, if the grammar requires them, resources for morphology. As for structure, rank is concerned with composition – with the relation of wholes to part, those parts to their sub-parts, and so on. On the basis of systemic and structural factors, SFL description generally posits four ranks for languages in which words consist of morpheme complexes, and three ranks for languages in which words are just one morpheme long. Units at each rank can normally be probed for evidence of orbital, prosodic and periodic organization, and in addition enter into serial complexes. This notion of simple and complex units at each rank is illustrated for English in Table 1.4. Although not illustrated in Section 1.3.3 above, realization statements specify the connections between a choice at one rank and its realization on lower ranks (typically the next below). For example, the choices leading to the following exclamative and wh interrogative clauses are realized in part by specifying the class of

Introduction

Table 1.4 Simple and complex grammatical units, by rank clause group/phrase word morpheme

orbital (simple unit) I like chocolate cakes chocolate cakes cakes cake

serial (complex unit) I like chocolate cakes and I like meat pies chocolate cakes and meat pies and sticky buns cakes and pies and buns cake + s

group or phrase the clause is exclaiming about or interrogating – in this case the difference between a nominal group with what preceding indefinite deixis and one with a wh Deictic function such as which. What an enticing cake that is! Which cakes entice you? Rank is thus an organizing principle for both domains of choice and their realization. As just illustrated it allows us to both associate and distinguish interrogative clauses (Which cakes entice you?), interrogative groups (which cakes) and phrases and interrogative words (which). Similarly for voice, it enables us to deal with information flow at clause rank (operative versus receptive clauses) and its realization through active or passive verbal groups: He took the cake.

‘operative’

The cake was taken.

‘receptive’

cake He cake

took was taken

Complement Subject/Theme Subject/Theme active verbal group passive verbal group

At clause rank what is important is the distinction between making one participant or another Subject and thus unmarked Theme; at group rank what matters is sorting out the active or passive morphology which tells us which participant the Subject is. This allows us to argue that reversibility in identifying clauses represents the same operative/receptive distinction10 it does in action clauses; the difference lies at group rank, where the verb be, which is commonly used in this clause type, lacks a passive. Luke’s the star.

‘operative’

The star’s Luke.

‘receptive’

is *is been

Luke the star Luke the star

Subject/Theme Complement Complement Subject/Theme active verbal group passive verbal group

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Realization in grammar thus involves a series of system to structure cycles, explicitly connecting one rank to another – clause choices related to group and phrase choices, group and phrase choices to word choices, and word choices to morpheme choices if required. This axial cycle gives rise to an important labelling distinction between function and class in the model. Function labels are written with an initial upper case letter, and configure as the structural output of choices at the given rank; for example, the Subject, Finite, Predicator, Complement and Adjunct functions used for English mood above. These functions are realized by classes of group and phrase, with labels written in lower case (e.g. nominal group, verbal group, prepositional phrase). These class labels direct the realization cycle to appropriate choices in relevant clusters of systems. The function labels are thus oriented to structure – to the syntagmatic role some unit is playing; whereas class labels are oriented to system – to the paradigmatic potential of a unit. In this regard, note that all features in system networks are in effect class labels, for more or less delicate subclasses of clause, group or phrase, word or morpheme. Finally, rank is also important for distinguishing unit complexing (illustrated above) from embedding. With embedding, a unit from the same or higher rank functions as the realization of some unit. Thus the clause I want functions as a Qualifier of one in the following example: That cake’s the one [[I want]]. As our nursery rhymes have taught us, such embeddings may include embeddings of their own, which take us deeper and deeper into the structure of the unit we are realizing: The apprentice [[that killed the Sith [[that killed the Jedi knight [[that discovered the boy [[who worked in a shop]]]]]]]]. . . Incursion of this kind contrasts with recursion proper, which involves iterating choices from the same system leading to flat serialized chains such as the following: The boy worked in a shop and a Jedi knight discovered him; and then the knight was killed by a Sith and was in turn killed by the knight’s apprentice. . . From a typological perspective rank can be used to specify the realizational domains of various regions of meaning. Martin (1983) contrasts participant identification in English, Tagalog and Kâte along these lines, showing the different contributions of clause complexing (subject-switching), clause Theme (and definiteness), and nominal group deixis across these three languages.

Introduction

.. Stratification (depth of meaning) In our presentation of the semiotic dimensions of systemic functional theory, we have now introduced both “local” dimensions – axis and rank – and two out of the three “global” dimensions – instantiation and metafunction – listed in Table 1.1 above. Let us now turn to the third global dimension – the dimension of stratification. This is the dimension that defines the “domains” in relation to which axis and rank are “local” – the three strata of language: (discourse) semantics, lexicogrammar and phonology (graphology or sign). This dimension is based on degrees of semiotic abstraction – from phonology with its “phonetic” interface to the material (the human body, in the first instance) to semantics, the realm of meaning. Back to the bakeshop. We hear the following: Customer: Server:

Give me a walnut bun please. Certainly.

Strictly speaking, of course, what we heard was vocal noise, which we interpreted as a sequence of phonemes organized into syllables, spoken in a certain rhythm, on a specific intonation pattern. As speakers of English we take this phonological organization for granted, and concentrate on the wording. In this case, for the customer, we have an imperative clause involving a material process, beginning with the process as unmarked Theme – realized by a verbal group (give) followed by two nominal groups (me, a walnut bun) and a comment Adjunct (please) – realized in turn by the sequence of words we used to write the clause above. From the perspective of stratification, what we processed was a level of phonological organization recontextualized by a level of grammatical organization. Suppose, however, we hear the following: Customer: Server:

I wonder if I could have . . . Why do you wonder? It’s right there in front of you.

In some sense here, the server has deliberately misheard – not the phonology, or the wording it realizes, but the customer’s meaning. Obviously, the customer wants the bun; but instead of using an imperative to baldly realize his command, he uses a declarative clause (I wonder) to project his wishes (if I could have. . . ), which he modalizes (could). But before he can even say what it is he wants, the server leaps in playfully to take the customer at his word and state the obvious – that there’s no need to wonder because the bun is right there and he can have it. What seems to be going on here is that a tension has arisen between the customer’s polite wording and his meaning, which the server exploits to make fun. From the perspective of stratification, what was processed was a level of phonological organization, recontextualized by a level of grammatical organization, recontextualized by a level of semantic organization.

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


Figure 1.7 Stratification – sounding, wording, meaning

These levels of organization are outlined as co-tangential circles of increasing abstraction in Figure 1.7, beginning with phonology, and moving on through lexicogrammar and discourse semantics. The term “lexicogrammar” is used because wording involves both lexis and structure; the term “discourse semantics” is used to emphasize that in SFL the size of unit under focus gets bigger as we move from one level to another – from the syllable in phonology, through the clause in lexicogrammar, to the text in discourse semantics. From the perspective of system, the strata comprise distinctive clusters of systems organized by rank and metafunction, with deeper levels of abstraction realized through lower ones. As a functional theory of language, SFL is concerned with the organization of language in relation to social life, and so linguistic levels are generally recontextualized by one or more contextual ones – as outlined in Figure 1.8 above. The realization relation across levels can be usefully interpreted as metaredundancy, since social context is concerned with generalizations about discourse semantic patterns, which are themselves patterns of lexicogrammatical patterns, which are themselves patterns of phonological patterns.

Figure 1.8 Linguistic strata recontextualized by social context

Introduction

.. Summary of theoretical dimensions As we have seen, language is organized along a number of semiotic dimensions. We can interpret all these dimensions as defining particular manifestations of the very general contrast between ‘wider environment’ and ‘narrower environment’; that is, we can interpret them as different dimensions of contextualization. These different dimensions all define environments of typological variation and are related to one another in a successive series of contextualizations, as shown in Figure 1.9. The diagram says that the most global manifestations of the cline between ‘wider environment’ and ‘narrower environment’ are the hierarchy of stratification and the cline of instantiation (the diagram should also include metafunction, but to avoid too much clutter we have left it out; it would be represented as a “spec-

Figure 1.9 Summary of the theoretical dimensions discussed in this chapter except for metafunctional diversification (based on Matthiessen 2001)






trum” running across context, semantics, lexicogrammar and (to a certain extent) phonology). In terms of stratification, the widest environment is that of context and within that stratal environment there is a hierarchy of linguistic strata (or levels) of decreasing stratal scope – semantics, lexicogrammar and phonology (graphology or sign). (In this diagram, rectangles are used instead of the circles in Figure 1.8, since they are easier to relate diagrammatically to other dimensions.) So the widest stratal environment of typological variation is that of context and the narrowest is that of phonology (graphology or sign). All the accounts in this book focus on the lexicogrammatical stratum; but wherever relevant they make reference to phonological realizations of lexicogrammatical features, especially realizations involving intonation, and they also make reference to semantic categories such as proposition versus proposal that are grammaticalized in languages. At the same time, the whole semiotic complex of language in context is extended along the cline of instantiation from particular texts in contexts (instances) to the general system of language in the context of culture (the potential). The widest instantial environment of typological variation is that of the system – the total meaning potential of a language and the contextual potential of its culture. The narrowest instantial environment of typological variation is that of a particular text in a specific context of situation, which is in a sense where typological studies and translation studies meet. The hierarchy of stratification defines an ordered series of stratal environments. Each stratum is in turn organized internally through a series of contextualizations; the diagram in Figure 1.9 only shows this for the level (stratum) of lexicogrammar, but the general principle is the same for all levels (strata). Locally, each level is organized into a hierarchy of units; this is the hierarchy of rank or the rank scale. The number of orders within the hierarchy of rank varies according to level of stratification and according to language; that is, while the number of strata is fixed by the general theory for all languages, the number of ranks (within a given stratum) is not – it is determined by the description of every particular language. Within the lexicogrammar of English, the rank scale is: clause – group/phrase – word – morpheme. The languages described in this book seem to operate with the same kind of rank scale; but they vary in how they divide the labour among the ranks; for example, both Chinese and Vietnamese do relatively little work at word rank (Vietnamese even less than Chinese) in comparison with Tagalog and Pitjantjatjara. The widest rank environment of typological variation is that of the clause, the most extensive unit of grammar; the narrowest rank environment of typological variation is that of the morpheme. The hierarchy of rank thus defines an ordered series of ranking environments. Each rank is in turn organized internally into two axes of organization – the systemic or paradigmatic axis and the structural or syntagmatic axis (as shown in

Introduction

Figure 1.9). The widest axial environment of typological variation is the systemic axis; the narrowest axial environment of typological variation is the structural axis. Thus the descriptions of the grammars of all the languages in this book are represented systemically in the first instance – the system networks of mood, transitivity and theme, etc. – and organization along the structural axis is represented in terms of realization statements associated with systemic terms in the networks. The systemic or paradigmatic axis is ordered in delicacy from the least delicate systems such as mood type and process type to the most delicate systems – the latter being within the lexical zone at the stratum of lexicogrammar. (Delicacy is represented diagrammatically as the horizontal dimension in system networks such as the one shown in Figure 1.4 above.) The widest systemic environment of typological variation is the low end of the scale of delicacy, where systemic contrasts such as ‘positive’/ ‘negative’ and ‘indicative’/ ‘imperative’ are very global; the narrowest systemic environment of typological variation is the high end of delicacy, where systemic contrasts such as very specific lexical contrasts are very local. The map of language in Figure 1.9 is articulated in the metalanguage of systemic functional linguistics. The dimensions shown in the diagram are part of a theoretical systemic model of language. Like language itself, the systemic metalanguage is stratified (Matthiessen 1988; Matthiessen & Nesbitt 1996; Halliday & Matthiessen 1999; Teich 1999). The highest stratum within the metalanguage itself is that of theory: the theory is in a sense a semantic interpretation of language; but it is not a “formal” one. The theory must be realized at a lower level of specification – that of representation. For example, the systemic theory of organization along the paradigmatic axis is realized by a form of representation developed by M.A.K. Halliday in the early 1960s – the system network (see Section 1.3.3 above). The systemic theory of paradigmatic organization can be realized by other forms of representation as well as long as they meet certain representational conditions (such as allowing for simultaneous systemic contrasts and distinguishing between the representation of resources and the representation of processes; cf. Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: 35–46); but the system network is the most appropriate form of representation (although there are representational issues and challenges; see for example Matthiessen, 1988; Bateman 1989; Matthiessen & Bateman 1991). Representations such as the system network are still oriented towards the organization of the theory and they need to be somewhat informal to cover as much theoretical ground as possible. For certain purposes – computational ones in particular – it makes sense to realize or “recode” these systemic forms of representation in the form of more formal and rigorous representational systems that have been developed to support computational implementation and processing.11 Thus system networks and other forms of systemic representations have been realized in the form of computational representational systems such as those of LOOM, PATR and TFS (see for example Kasper 1988; Bateman, Emele & Momma 1992; Henschel






1994). There has thus been systemic functional concern with highly formalized representations (cf. also Patten & Ritchie 1987); but the work has been carried out specifically within those contexts of research where there is a clear demand for such precision of formalization. In other contexts, the demands of theoretical coverage have been foregrounded. In this book we have chosen not to foreground issues of formalization at the lower level of (computational) representation since such an orientation would not relate directly to the concerns of linguistic typology. Having said that, we must however immediately emphasize that the work on representing multilinguality has been important in systemic computational linguistics (see for example Bateman et al. 1991; Bateman, Matthiessen & Zeng 1999). It has led to computational systems that allow us to represent multilingual resources (Bateman 1996; Zeng 1996) and we expect that this work will have a significant effect on both descriptions of particular languages and typological generalizations across languages, just as it has already been helpful to work on translation. The theoretical map of language thus shows that typological variation is multiply contextualized. Following Matthiessen (in press), we can identify two complementary principles of typological variation. (i) According to one principle, typological variation is like dialectal variation within a language in that the main locus of variation is “low-level” – phonology and morphology in particular, the narrowest environments. This principle is illustrated by Martin’s (1983) study of participant identification as a common semantic concern in three languages (English, Tagalog and Kâte) achieved by varied lexicogrammatical strategies. (ii) According to the other principle, typological variation is more like codal and registerial variation in that the main locus of variation is “high-level” – the context of culture and semantics in the first instance. This principle has been illustrated in a series of systemic functional studies – Hasan (1984), Martin (1988) and Halliday (1993). The principles will be explained and illustrated in more detail in Matthiessen & Halliday (in prep.: Chapter 5). Of the two principles, it is the first that has received the bulk of attention in typological research. The theoretical map Figure 1.9 also shows us the primary pathways of the semogenic process of grammaticalization (cf. Matthiessen 1995a: 49–50; Matthiessen & Halliday, in prep.; see for example Heine, Claudi & Hünnemeyer 1991; Hopper & Traugott 1993, for the concept of grammaticalization). Grammaticalization is of course a move up the cline of instantiation from textual instances towards the overall systemic potential – very often with the registers of casual conversation as the cutting edge. It is typically a move along the cline of delicacy within the paradigmatic axis from the lexical zone of the cline to the grammatical zone (for example, from the lexical field of [verbs of] motion to the grammatical system of tense). It is a move down the rank scale from independent element in clause or group towards bound element in word (with clitics as an intermediate stage) – a move that is accompanied by phonological reduction. What is common to all three moves (from

Introduction

text towards system, from lexis towards grammar, and from high ranks towards lower ones) is generalization. In addition, it is also very often a move from the ideational domain to either the interpersonal or textual one; and is also very often a move from the concrete realm to the abstract one (not shown in the diagram).12 Let us add a final note on the multidimensionality represented in Figure 1.9. The diagram may be seen as representing a model defining a system of related “modules” or components. This view is helpful since theoretical architectures of language are often stated in terms of modules, in keeping with the popular computational metaphor of modularity in cognitive science. However, we have to be careful not to reify the organization of language, turning the system into a set of building blocks. J. R. Firth’s prismatic metaphor is more appropriate: as he explains here (1951/1957: 192), each dimension represents a prism that disperses the white light of meaning into a particular spectrum: Having made the first abstraction by suitably isolating a piece of ‘text’ or part of the social process of speaking for a listener or writing for a reader, the suggested procedure for dealing with meaning is its dispersion into modes, rather like the dispersion of light of mixed wave-lengths into a spectrum.

The bands within each spectrum are best interpreted as complementarities related (at least in the case of stratification) by metaredundancy (see Lemke 1984; Halliday 1992: 23–26, for this important concept). From the point of view of the typologist, the theoretical map shown in Figure 1.9 opens up complementary perspectives on the resources of language and it indicates how to explore and argue about linguistic categories by locating them multidimensionally (see Matthiessen 1995a: 116–119). Any category will be multiply related to other categories along different dimensions. For example, a clause is a metafunctionally diversified unit – a compromise unifying interpersonal, textual and experiential lines of meaning. Looked at “from above”, in terms of stratification, it realizes a proposition or proposal in the flow of interaction (interpersonal), a figure in the flow of events (experiential) and a message in the flow of information (textual); looked at “from below”, in terms of rank, it is realized by groups and phrases, and in terms of stratification, it is realized (in the default case) by a tone group (a unit of intonation); and looked at “from within”, it is the point of origin of a number of systems – mood (interpersonal), transitivity (experiential) and theme (textual) – and the “carrier” of the structures realizing terms in these systems. This multidimensional status of the clause explains why there is often tension in the system and we can explore this tension by reference to two or more of the relevant dimensions (cf. Ford & Thompson 1996).






. A systemic functional map of English lexicogrammar We have now completed our survey of the theoretical dimensions of systemic functional theory (cf. Table 1.1 and above). Together these dimensions define the overall semiotic space of language, as that space is mapped by systemic functional theory (cf. Figure 1.9 above). As we have stressed, they do not serve to characterize or distinguish particular languages; but they “scaffold” the descriptions of particular languages. All the descriptive categories developed within these descriptions are manifestations of general theoretical categories. For example, the theory specifies the general category of an interpersonal [metafunction] lexicogrammatical [stratification] system [axis] with the clause as point of origin [rank]. In English, this theoretical category is manifested by the particular systems of mood, modality and polarity; but in Japanese the list includes politeness and honorification as well (see Teruya, this volume) and in a number of languages evidentiality rather than modality is the central system of assessment (see Matthiessen, this volume). As we noted earlier (in Section 1.3.1), the semiotic dimensions can be intersected two at a time to construct two-dimensional matrices that locate the resources in particular regions within the total semiotic space of language. Here we will focus on lexicogrammar, presenting a partial descriptive sketch of English. Any language that has been described in systemic functional terms could have served equally well to illustrate the nature of a systemic functional description. However, we have selected English because on the one hand it is the language in which this book is written so it can be assumed to be accessible to readers and because on the other hand Halliday’s (1985/1994) description of English has served as a model for work on other languages and the chapters on other languages will often make reference to that account of English. Accordingly, a few of the key features13 of Halliday’s analysis of English clause grammar will be reviewed here, beginning with his interpersonal “tier”.14 The lexicogrammatical system of a language can be mapped out by means of a (meta)function-rank matrix. The global “address” of this matrix within the overall semiotic space of language (cf. Figure 1.9 above) is (i) lexicogrammar [stratification] and (ii) potential pole [cline of instantiation]; with respect to the cline of instantiation it may be noted that patterns closer to the instance pole of the cline will fall somewhere within the area covered by the matrix. The functionrank matrix identifying the lexicogrammatical resources of English is set out in Table 1.5. For reasons of space, we will have to focus on the rank of clause. This will also correspond roughly to the focus within each of the subsequent chapters. The choice of clause rank as the gateway into the resources of the lexicogrammar is not arbitrary, however. It follows the general holistic principle embodied in systemic functional work: the clause constitutes the most extensive domain within

[class]

word information unit

[adverbial]

[nominal]

group [verbal]

phrase [prepositional]

clause

rank experiential TRANSITIVITY (process type) MOOD MODALITY POLARITY MINOR MOOD (adjunct type)

interpersonal

MINOR TRANSITIVITY (circumstance type) TAXIS TENSE EVENT TYPE FINITENESS group – (parataxis/ ASPECT hypotaxis) & (non-finite) LOGICAL- MODIFICATION THING TYPE PERSON SEMANTIC CLASSIFICATION ATTITUDE RELATION EPITHESIS (expansion/ QUALIFICATION projection) MODIFICATION QUALITY COMMENT (circumstance type) (adjunct type) word) DERIVATION (DENOTATION) (CONNOTATION) info. unit INFO. ACCENTUATION KEY complex TAXIS complexes simplexes

phrase –

(clause –

complexes

ideational logical

Table 1.5 Function-rank matrix (English; from Matthiessen & Halliday 1997) (cohesive) COHESIVE RELATIONS:

INFORMATION FOCUS

CONJUNCTION

REFERENCE, ELLIPSIS & SUBST’ION, DETERMINATION CONJ’ION

VOICE DEICTICITY

THEME CULMINATION VOICE CONJUNCTION

textual

Introduction 




lexicogrammar and thus serves as the environment for other, lower-ranking units. It is also at the same time the most important lexicogrammatical interface to the systems of (discourse) semantics. In using the clause as the way in, systemic functional descriptions thus differ from traditional ones, where the starting point was the word and the grammar was essentially developed out of questions about word forms first in Ancient Greek and then in Latin.

.. Interpersonal clause grammar – the system of mood Interpersonally, the clause enacts a quantum of interaction in ongoing dialogue as an exchange of a proposition (where the commodity being exchanged is information) or a proposal (where the commodity being exchanged is goods-&-services). The central interpersonal resource is the system of mood, parts of which are set out in Figure 1.2, Figure 1.3 and Figure 1.5 above; the other interpersonal systems are polarity (see Figure 1.5), modality and other systems of modal assessment (for presentations of the interpersonal clause grammar, see Halliday 1970, 1984, 1994: Chapter 4; Martin 1992: Chapter 2; Matthiessen, 1995a: Chapter 5). The system of mood grammaticalizes speech function and provides the speaker with a range of options in assuming a speech role and assigning a complementary one to the listener. The primary systemic contrast is between ‘indicative’ and ‘imperative’ – the exchange of a proposition (information) or a proposal (goods-&-services); and within ‘indicative’ clauses, the main systemic contrast is between ‘declarative’ and ‘interrogative’ – a distinction in orientation between giving and demanding information. These are all contrasts having to do with the interactive contribution made by the clause; and more delicate systems provide for subtle ways of positioning the clause interactively – for example as assertive or reserved statement, as insistent or compromising command, and as committed or uncommitted question. Terms in the system of mood are realized prosodically – phonologically by tone and grammatically by a structure of Mood + Residue (+ Moodtag). Phonologically, each major mood type is realized by a particular tone (pitch contour) in the default case: ‘declarative’ falling tone, ‘interrogative: yes/no’ rising tone, ‘interrogative: wh-’ falling tone, and ‘imperative’ falling tone (in the sense of command) or tone 3 (in the sense of invitation) if ‘positive’, level (low-rising) tone if ‘negative’ (see Halliday 1994: 305–306). The system of mood is extended in delicacy on the one hand by variation within the default or unmarked tones (e.g. differentiating a ‘strong’ and a ‘mild’ declarative by the range of the falling tone – high versus low fall) and on the other hand by marked tones (e.g. ‘declarative . . . reserved’ rising-falling tone). For example:

Introduction

// [falling tone] Qui-Gon has lost the fight.// statement: neutral // [rising tone] – He hasn’t lost.// statement: contradiction, protest The expressive resources of tone give the mood system a considerable potential for negotiation. But the major mood types are also realized grammatically by the interpersonal or “modal” structure of the clause. Grammatically, the interpersonal structure of the clause is Mood + Residue (+ Moodtag). Most generally, the clause is divided into Mood and Residue functions: Luke could have Mood Residue

a walnut bun.

Could Luke have Mood Residue

a walnut bun?

The Mood function is concerned with positioning the clause as an interact. Its structural presence and absence reflects the difference between ‘indicative’ clauses and ‘imperative’ ones – ‘indicative’ Mood element present in the unmarked case: Luke could have a walnut bun; Could Luke have a walnut bun? versus ‘imperative’ no Mood element in the unmarked case: Have a walnut bun! And the internal organization of the Mood element (see below) realizes the difference between ‘declarative’ clauses and ‘interrogative: yes/no’ ones – ‘declarative’: Luke could versus ‘interrogative: yes/no’: Could Luke?. The interpersonal status of the Mood element is also brought out in tagged clauses, where it is picked up again by the Moodtag, and in a common type of dialogic ellipsis in responses, where the Mood element stands alone and the Residue is elided: Luke could have a walnut bun couldn’t he? Mood Residue Moodtag – He could. Mood The Mood element is prosodic in the sense that it assigns an interpersonal value to the clause as a whole, just like a tone does; and its expressive potential is comparable to that of tone as well (see Matthiessen 1995a: 396–397); for example: Table 1.6. The Residue is what is left over from the resources which engage the clause in interaction; it functions as the domain of the Mood function, as reflected in the negation prosody exemplified in Section 1.3.4 above. This analysis is designed to show how the English clause operates in dialogue, charged with relevant meaning by its Mood function. The long domain of its functions reflects the prosodic nature of realization in this part of the grammar.






Table 1.6 Analogy between Mood element and tone contrast – expressive potential Mood [“falling” sequence] Luke could (have a walnut bun). Mood [“rising” sequence] Could Luke (have a walnut bun)? [i.e. no Mood] Have a walnut bun! Mood [“falling” sequence] ^ Moodtag [“rising” sequence] Luke could (have a walnut bun), couldn’t he?

falling tone rising tone level tone (i.e. neither falling nor rising) falling-rising tone

The interpersonal structure of Mood + Residue (+ Moodtag) forms a kind of grammatical prosody permeating or colouring the whole clause. Within the major prosodic phases represented by Mood, Residue and Moodtag, there are minor phases. The Mood is divided into Subject, Finite and Mood Adjunct functions. The Finite function makes the validity of the clause arguable through tense or modality, typically also together with a specification of ‘positive’ or ‘negative’ polarity: The Force was / is / will be with him. tense The Force wasn’t /isn’t / won’t be with him. The Force might /would /must be with him. modality The Force mightn’t /wouldn’t /mustn’t be with him. Mood Adjuncts also realize modality, along with polarity (when it is not fused with the Finite) and related meanings having to do with the speaker’s modal assessment: The Force is probably with him. The Force is/is not with him. The Force is surely with him. The Force is still with him.

modality polarity obviousness temporality (‘longer than expected’)

Mood Adjuncts and the Finite thus overlap as realizational domains with respect to the systems of modality and polarity. The Subject function complements the Finite by elevating one element of the clause to the status of having modal responsibility for the validity of a proposal or proposition – the participant obliged or willing to actualize a proposal, or the ground on which a proposition rests: I’ll retrieve your light sabre. Subject undertaking a proposal – Please do. Qui-Gon has lost the fight. Subject as argumentative nub of a proposition – He has; but Obi-Wan has won. Halliday’s treatment of the English Subject function extends formal treatments by providing functional motivation, from the perspective of dialogue, for the

Introduction

grammatical bonding of Subject and Finite (e.g. number agreement, inversion, contraction, tagging). It follows that recognition of a Subject function in other languages would depend on the presence of a unit comparably charged with interpersonal meaning. Halliday also partitions the Residue, into Predicator (verbal group minus the Finite), Complement and Adjunct; Complements15 are “would-be” or potential Subjects (via voice – active/passive), whereas Adjuncts are not contenders for modal responsibility. Luke could eat a walnut bun for brunch. nominal group verbal group nominal group prepositional phrase Subject Finite Predicator Complement Adjunct Mood Residue The interpersonal patterns of the clause sketched here are specific to the systemic functional description of English. The extent to which similar patterns operate within other languages is an empirical question. As we will see in the discussions of other languages in this book, the modal structure of the English clause is typologically distinctive, particularly in the way that the Moodtag picks up the Mood element. But when we explore the interpersonal grammar of other languages, we should not start with questions about the interpersonal structure of the clause – and this advice applies most emphatically to the function of Subject! – we start rather with questions that relate directly to the interpersonal nature of the clause in relation to the construction of dialogue. Thus Halliday’s treatment of English mood has inspired linguists working on other languages to ask questions such as the following: – – – –

– – –

what are the dialogic strategies open to the speaker in the grammar of the clause? how is the clause positioned as an interact (as giving or demanding goods-&services or information)? is there an identifiable part of the clause concerned with this dialogic positioning, and more generally with its arguability? are there prosodic patterns of realization involved in engaging the clause in interaction and making it arguable (e.g. concord, agreement, inversion, contraction, cliticization, discontinuous effects)? is there a functionally motivated locus of modal responsibility in the clause, comparable to the English Subject function? is there a functionally motivated locus of arguability, grounding the clause in tense/aspect or modality, comparable to the English Finite function? what is the precise relation of polarity and modality to mood; what is the nature of their realization (e.g. nominal, verbal, adverbial, particle)?






– –

how are related interpersonal meanings expressed (e.g. affect, honorification, quotative particles/affixes)? what is the role of tone in realizing more and less general mood options?

.. Experiential clause grammar – the system of transitivity Experientially, the clause construes our experience of a quantum of change in the flow of events as a figure – a configuration of a process, participants involved in the process and circumstances attendant on it (Halliday 1967/8, 1995: Chapter 5; Matthiessen 1995a: Chapter 4; Halliday & Matthiessen 1999; Davidse 1999). The experiential resource of the grammar of the English clause is the system of transitivity, a small fragment of which is shown in Figure 1.4 above. This system provides a small number of general models for construing our experience of a quantum of change; most centrally, it is concerned with general domain of experience as it relates to the process. Based on grammatical criteria, Halliday (1994: Chapter 5) recognizes three main types of process – ‘material’ (doing-&-happening), ‘mental’ (sensing) and ‘relational’ (being-&-having). Material clauses construe our experience of the world around us – a world of doing-&-happening, involving Actor, Goal and Recipient or Client as participant functions: Qui-Gon handed Obi-Wan the light-sabre. Actor Process Recipient Goal nominal group verbal group nominal group verbal group Qui-Gon poured Obi-Wan a drink. Actor Process Client Goal nominal group verbal group nominal group nominal group Mental clauses construe our experience of the world inside us, of our own processes of consciousness – a world of sensing (perception, affection and cognition), involving Senser and Phenomenon as participant functions: Qui-Gon heard/disliked/knew the Sith. Senser Process Phenomenon Relational clauses construe relationships – a world of being-&-having, involving identity and attribution. Identity is concerned with relationships across orders of abstraction; attribution is concerned with description and classification. For identifying processes, Halliday recognizes Token and Value functions; for attributive ones, he proposes Carrier and Attribute:

Introduction

Liam Neeson Token

was Process

Qui-Gon. Value

Qui-Gon Carrier

was Process

tall/a Jedi knight. Attribute

Alongside these process types of doing-&-happening, sensing and being-&-having, Halliday takes note of ‘behavioural’, ‘verbal’ and ‘existential’ clauses, each with its own distinctive configuration of participant roles. The six different primary process types make distinct contributions to the construction of text. For example in construing a narrative plot, the grammar deploys ‘material’ clauses to construct the main event line, ‘verbal’ clauses to construct dialogic passages, ‘mental’ clauses to construe the participants’ emotive reactions to events, and ‘relational’ clauses to construct descriptive background and both preconditions and outcomes of ‘material’ clauses. Different text types are characterized by different distributions of favoured process types (see for example, Matthiessen 1999: 14–15). The account of ‘material’ clauses reflects the transitive model of transitivity, as it had been worked out in traditional accounts: the clause is organized as a configuration of Actor + Process with or without the addition of a Goal, the critical variable being whether the Actor + Process combination extends to impact another participant, the Goal, (in this case, the clause is “transitive”) or not (in this case, it is “intransitive”). This model explains a number of the features of the English system of transitivity, but not all; it needs to be complemented by another kind of transitivity model – the ergative model (Halliday 1967/8; 1994: Section 5.8; Davidse 1992; Matthiessen 1995a: 229–235). This model is based on agency rather than on extension and impact. Using the ergative model, Halliday reconsiders transitivity from the perspective of agency. In this perspective, a clause has a nucleus consisting of the Process and the participant actualizing that process, the Medium (i.e. the medium through which the process is actualized): The ship Medium

flew Process

to Naboo Location

In addition there may be an Agent function which brings about the actualization of the Process + Medium nucleus: Qui-Gon Agent

flew Process

the ship Medium

to Naboo Circumstance

Reasoning along these lines Halliday distinguishes participants in the process that are created or affected by the process (i.e. the Medium) from participants which simply specify the meaning or domain of the process – the Range. Note the contrast in agency and affectedness between Liam had a drink and Liam poured the wine






(contrast *What Liam did to the wine was have it versus What Liam did to the wine was pour it): Liam Medium

had Process

a drink Range

Liam Agent

poured Process

the wine Medium

Taken together, the two models of transitivity – the transitive and the ergative – represent complementary perspectives on the English clause. The ergative perspective, with its Process + Medium nucleus, Agent + Beneficiary margin and circumstantial periphery reflects more closely the orbital structure outlined in Section 1.3.4 above. Qui-Gon transitive Actor ergative Agent nominal gp

gave Process Process verbal gp

the message Goal Medium nominal gp

to the Queen Recipient Beneficiary prep. phrase

at the Palace Location Location prep. phrase

Halliday’s analysis of mental processes makes use of both orbital and serial structure. When the Phenomenon sensed is a thing or embedded activity, it is treated as part of the mental clause: Obi-Wan Senser nominal group

saw Process verbal group

the ship Phenomenon (thing) nominal group

Obi-Wan Senser nominal group

saw Process verbal group

[[the ship leaving]] Phenomenon (act) clause: non-finite

When the mental process projects an idea, however, an analysis involving two clauses, one dependent on the other, represents a more insightful account: Obi-Wan α Senser

thought

that the ship was leaving ‘β (idea)

Process

This raises the issue of the complementarity16 of orbital and serial structure in the construal of ideational meaning. Halliday’s treatment of English transitivity has inspired linguists working on other languages to ask the questions such as the following: –

how many process types need to be recognized, with distinctive configurations of participant roles?

Introduction

–

– – –

– –

how can these process types be motivated, drawing on a range of morphological, syntagmatic and cryptogrammatic17 evidence, as well as evidence from discourse concerning the construal of phases of different domains of experience? how is ‘voice’ related to process type; how far can it be generalized beyond action clauses? generalizing across process types, can transitive and/or ergative (and/or other) patterns of organization be recognized? is one or another of these general patterns associated with particular process types or subtypes, persons, moods, nouns versus pronouns versus enclitic pronouns, etc.? what is the nature of the orbital organization of the clause, into nucleus, margin and periphery? how is serial structure involved – at which points in the periphery (e.g. construal of location) or margin (e.g. construal of recipient) of the clause?

.. Textual clause grammar: The system of theme Textually, the clause presents a quantum of information in the unfolding of text as a message – an undulating movement of information with a wave of prominence followed by a trough of non-prominence. The central textual resources are the systems of theme and informaton (Halliday 1967/8, 1994: Chapter 3; Halliday & Martin 1993; Fries 1981; Ghadessy 1995; Matthiessen 1995a: Chapter 6). The system of theme gives thematic prominence to some textual, interpersonal, and/or experiential element of the clause. Thematic prominence constitutes a local context for the clause through which it can be related to the unfolding text according to the current method of development. This serves to guide listeners in their processes of interpretation, indicating where to integrate the new message in the network of meanings they have already constructed out of the text. The system of information also assigns textual prominence to some element of the clause, but this is prominence of a different, complementary kind – prominence as news. This again serves to guide listeners in their processes of interpretation, in this case indicating what to focus on as the main point of the message – the most newsworthy information to retain in the process of expanding the network of meanings that they have already constructed out of the text. The thematic structure of the clause is thus concerned with the way the clause contributes to the development of an orientation to a text’s subject matter. The peak of prominence at issue here is called Theme, and its wake Rheme; in English Theme is realized in clause initial position. In the following text for example, from the field of cricket, the clause Themes regularly take the players and teams involved in the match as point of departure.






Theme Michael Bevan (65) and captain Steve Waugh (56)

Rheme had to mount a rescue operation in their World Cup semi-final clash against South Africa on Thursday as Australia were dismissed for 213 in 49.2 overs. South Africa’s vaunted fast bowlers had Australia on the back foot at Edgbaston. Waugh’s men had slumped to 4–68 in the 17th over with the Proteas threatening to skittle them. [Blake 1999] Complementing the thematic structure of the clause, the informational structure consists of Given + New.18 In spoken English New is centred on tonic prominence, for the constituent carrying the major pitch movement in the clause. In the unmarked case this pitch movement falls on the last stressed syllable of a tone group (grammatically: information unit) and so New complements Theme by being associated with final position in the English clause. The fact that the domain of New is unbounded to the left of tonic prominence, and the fact that pitch movement is implied rather than explicitly realized in writing, means that the analysis of informational structure inevitably involves some degree of indeterminacy for listener/readers. For purposes of exemplification, we offer the following re-reading of the cricket text just analysed. Based on this analysis of New, its point is to establish the rather difficult position from which Australia ultimately managed to extricate itself. (Given) Michael Bevan (65) and captain Steve Waugh (56) had to mount a rescue operation as Australia were dismissed South Africa’s vaunted fast bowlers had Australia Waugh’s men had slumped with the Proteas

(minimal19 ) New in their World Cup semi-final clash against South Africa on Thursday for 213 in 49.2 overs. on the back foot at Edgbaston. to 4–68 in the 17th over threatening to skittle them.

This complementarity of Theme and New provides a framework for exploring the ways in which voice, “mobile” constituents and related resources are deployed to establish a text’s method of development and main point. The “mobility” of circumstantial Adjuncts in English for example means that an alternative orientation to the cricket match is possible – one which makes use of marked Themes to foreground time and place:

Introduction

marked Theme In their World Cup semi-final clash against South Africa on Thursday as in (just) 49.2 overs At Edgbaston In the 17th over

Rheme Michael Bevan (65) and captain Steve Waugh (56) had to mount a rescue operation Australia were dismissed for 213. South Africa’s vaunted fast bowlers had Australia on the back foot. Waugh’s men had slumped to 4–68.

In addition, a more delicate analysis of Theme is possible, taking into account modes of meaning. We’ve added a couple of modal Adjuncts to the text below to illustrate the way in which Theme can function to relate a clause to its cotext (textual Theme) and to foreground attitude (interpersonal Theme), alongside mounting a text’s method of development. Theme: Theme: textual interpersonal

as

Theme: topical Michael Bevan (65) and captain Steve Waugh (56) Australia

(Not surprisingly)

South Africa’s vaunted fast bowlers (Unfortunately) Waugh’s men with

the Proteas

Rheme had to mount a rescue operation in their World Cup semi-final clash against South Africa on Thursday were dismissed for 213 in 49.2 overs. had Australia on the back foot at Edgbaston. had slumped to 4–68 in the 17th over threatening to skittle them

Halliday’s treatment of English theme has inspired linguists working on other languages to ask the following questions (among others) about the ways in which clauses manage information flow in discourse: – – – –

how do clauses contribute to the development of an angle on what is being talked about; is there a Theme function manifesting this perspective? how is Theme realized – e.g. sequence (especially initial or final position in the clause), inflection, adposition, intonation? are there marked and unmarked Theme selections, depending perhaps on mood; what is the role of voice in constructing unmarked Themes? are there special marked Themes (i.e. absolute Themes) which function outside the transitivity structure of their clause possible?






– – – –

–

is it possible to recognize textual, interpersonal and topical Themes; are they always realized together? how do clauses contribute to the elaboration of the point of a text; is there a New function establishing news? how is New realized – e.g. sequence (especially initial or final position in the clause), inflection, adposition, intonation? do identifying relational clauses have a special role to play in grammatically demarcating Given and New (e.g. What the Proteas did was threaten to skittle Australia, What the Proteas did to Australia was threaten to skittle them . . . )? are there resources for combining Theme and New (for example theme Predication in English – It was Australia who won, with Australia as unmarked Theme and New)?

. The global map and approaches to typology To round off the outline of systemic functional theory and description, we will now use the theoretical dimensions listed in Table 1.1 above to index work in the field of typological research: from Table 1.6, we see that the coverage of the multidimensional semiotic space of language in typological work is uneven. This is hardly surprising; the same is true in linguistics in general. In the history of western linguistics, the tendency has been to move in “from below” in terms of stratification, rank and axis: this reflects the perspective typically adopted, which is that of analysis or parsing (rather than that of synthesis or generation). The way into the content system of language has been through lexicogrammar (rather than through discourse semantics), and the way into grammar has been through the word (rather than through the clause) and through structure (rather than through system). Broadly speaking, the same tendencies can be seen in the development of the field of typology. In the 19th century, typological work started with the word, developing morphological typology. Comrie (1981: 39–42) points out that traditionally: Morphological typology usually recognizes three canonical types of language: isolating, agglutinating, and fusional, to which is sometimes added a fourth: polysynthetic (or incorporating). An isolating language is one which has no morphology, i.e., at least ideally, a language where there is one-to-one correspondence between words and morphemes [e.g Vietnamese] . . . In an agglutinating language, a word may consist of more than one morpheme, but the boundaries between morphemes in the word are always clear cut [e.g. Turkish noun declension] . . .

Introduction

In a fusional language, however, there is no such clear-cut boundary between morphemes, the characteristic of a fusional language being that an expression of different categories within the same word is fused together to give a single, unsegmentable morph [e.g Russian declension] . . . The fourth morphological type, which is sometimes, though by no means always, included is polysynthetic . . . Polysynthesis [. . . ] refers simply to the fact that, in a language of this type, it is possible to combine large number of morphemes, be they lexical or grammatical, into a single word, often corresponding to a whole sentence of English [e.g Eskimo].

This kind of linguistic classification is problematic, as Comrie (1981: 43–44) indicates: At the outset of our discussion we assumed, very simplistically, that the typology would consist of three or four ideal types, among which we could distribute the languages of the world. In fact, however, although we can establish these ideal types, the majority (perhaps all) of the world’s languages do not correspond exactly to one or other of these types, but rather fall between the two extremes on each of the indexes of synthesis and fusion. Thus instead of providing a discrete typology, morphological typology provides us with a continuous typology, i.e., for a given language we can assign that language a place along the continua defined by the index of synthesis and the index of fusion . . .

In terms of the synthetic–analytic dimension, there are clearly some languages that at least approach the analytic end of the spectrum, i.e. where there is almost oneto-one correspondence between words and morphemes; Vietnamese, cited above, is a good example. However, there is probably no language where it is obligatory to combine as many morphemes as possible into a single word, i.e. where there would be absolute identity between the word and the sentence. We will see in Chapter 2 that French is one such language where the clause can sometimes combines all clausal functions into one element, namely the verbal group element, as in je-le-lui-donne (I-it-to him-give, “I give it to him”) or je-nelui-en-parle-pas (I-no-to him-of it-speak-not, “I do not speak of it to him”). A metafunctional approach to the analysis of the French clause reveals that the choice between polysynthesis and analysis is motivated by textual factors: prominent participants tend to stand on their own, while non-prominent participants tend to be prefixed to the verbal group. From a realizational point of view, we could thus argue that French share features with both polysynthetic and analytic languages. Cross-linguistic studies based on word structure make it more difficult to highlight similarities between languages such as French and Vietnamese, for example. Variation across languages seems to be more prominent in the structural or realizational output of the systems and in the more delicate subsystems than in



global

meta-function

instantiation

stratification

phonology: focus of typology (e.g.Greenberg 1978; Croft 1990: Section 5.4; Lindblom, Macneilage & Studdert-Kennedy 1984; Hirst & Di Cristo 1998; cf. also Ladefoged & Maddieson 1996) system (potential): still the main focus of typology No general account or investigation, subsystem/ text type: some work in the Grimes and Longacre traditions; but but some discussion in the context of work on grammaticalization (e.g. central concern in work on “sublanguages” in machine translation Hopper & Traugott 1993; Hagège 1988; text (instance): mainly as evidence for the system, not as a focus in its own Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994: 19–21, right; but central concern in translation studies 107–110) ideational, experiential: significant volume of work, e.g. on transitivity (e.g. Little general work on Hopper & Thompson 1980, 1982; including work on “case marking” or inter-metafunctional patterning but “alignment systems”, e.g. Blake 1994; Dixon 1979, 1994; Plank 1979), some work on “accessibility tense/aspect (e.g. Comrie 1976, 1985; Dahl 1985; Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca hierarchies” (e.g. Croft 1990: 101ff; 1994), possession, location and existence (e.g. Allen 1964; E. Clark 1978), Keenan & Comrie 1977) noun classes and gender (e.g. Corbett 1991)

intra-dimensional inter-dimensional context: virtually no work within typological linguistics itself, but work Little attempt at inter-stratal typology, within cross-cultural pragmatics but some observations about grammar semantics: little typological work but some semantic domains such as and phonology in work on grammatthose of (transfer of) possession, existence and location, causation used as icalization (e.g. Croft 1990: 231–233) typological frame of reference (cf. Seiler’s, e.g. 1995, UNITYP framework); and some work on genre and grammar work on discourse semantics mostly in support of grammatical typology (as in the Grimes (e.g. 1978) and Longacre (e.g. 1990) traditions. Discussions of in Hopper 1982) language and culture types mostly lexicogrammar: focus of typology (e.g. Greenberg 1978; Comrie 1981; outside field of typology. Mallinson & Blake 1981; Shopen 1985; Croft 1990; Payne 1997) – with special attention given to grammar rather than to lexis (with exceptions such as the work by Leonard Talmy (e.g. 1985); cf. also Viberg 1984)

Table 1.7 Systemic functional index of typological work

 Alice Caffarel, J. R. Martin and Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

rank

local

axis

meta-function

global

structure: a great deal of work on “word order”, “case marking” and various constructions; head versus dependent marking (Nichols 1986)

word: word classes (Schachter 1985), noun-verb continuum (Hopper & Thompson 1985), adjectives (Dixon 1977; Thompson 1988); traditional word-based typology (e.g. Comrie 1981: Section 2.3) system: some work on whole systems such as transitivity (see under “metaNo attempt at inter-axial function” above) and on systemic interdependencies, but focus along the typological correlations dimension of axis in typology tends to be on structure; systemic (implicational) hierarchies (e.g. Croft 1990: 67–91); systemic markedness (e.g. Croft 1990: 67–91)

textual: less work than on ideational systems and constructions, but studies of theme and information (Li 1976; Lambrecht 1994), reference and “continuity” (Givón 1983), voice (e.g. Keenan 1985), definiteness (e.g. Lyons 1999) clause: clausal systems of transitivity, mood, theme, etc. (see above under “meta- “word order” patterns across ranks function”); clausal structure – “word order” in particular (see under stated as implicational universals “inter-dimensional”) and harmony patterns (e.g. Greenberg 1966; Croft 1990: 48–63; group/phrase: tense/aspect (as systems at this rank; see above under “metafunction”), noun classes and gender (see above under “metafunction); animacy Comrie 1981: Chapter 4; Hawkins (e.g. Comrie 1981: Chapter 8); modification hierarchy (e.g. Croft 1990: 117–120) 1983, 1994)

interpersonal: less work than on the ideational systems and constructions, but some work on mood (e.g. Sadock & Zwicky 1985; Palmer 1986; Ultan 1978), modality (Palmer 1986; Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994); evidentiality (e.g. Chafe & Nichols 1986; Wierzbicka 1996: Chapter 15), polarity (Givón 1979: Chapter 3; J. Payne 1985)

ideational, experiential/ logical: Work on “causative constructions” (e.g. Shibatani 1976)

ideational, logical: Some work on clause complexing (e.g. Longacre & Thompson 1985; Longacre 1985; Haiman & Thompson 1988) and “serial verb constructions”

Introduction 




the general systems. This is because the more delicate systems tend to reflect realizational differences whilst the more general systems tend to reflect functional differences. While morphological criteria at the rank of word are clearly not sufficient as a means of typologizing linguistic systems, syntactic criteria such as word order at the rank of group/phrase and clause can also be problematic as many languages have split word-ordering systems. French is one such language. It has a SOV word order when there is agglutination and synthesis and a SVO word order when participants are realized analytically. A metafunctional interpretation of the French clause reveals that interpersonal and experiential factors, as well as variation in textual prominence in the clause, motivates a change in the order of functional elements. However, from a functional perspective, one cannot really say that one kind of ordering is primary to the other. It is a question of semantic choice. As this brief discussion illustrates, it is necessary to complement the view “from below” with the view “from above” – in terms of rank, axis and stratification. The field of typology has clearly made tremendous advances since the early 19th century proposals that focused on word rank. However, it is still the case that there is an imbalance in the coverage, with much more work being needed to fill out the perspective “from above”. For example, both “word order” and “case marking” derive from the view from below – from the standpoint of realizational strategies; and to throw additional light on them, we need to interpret them “from above” in terms of clausal systems (not just structures) distributed across the metafunctions. In terms of dimension of stratification, semantics and context are still largely uncharted as domains of typology, as is the area of inter-stratal generalizations. One problem here is clearly the sheer complexity of semantic and contextual systems; but the complexity can be made manageable in a natural way if we move down the cline of instantiation from the system pole to take registerial (generic) subsystems or text types as our domains of typology.

. Sampling to support typological generalizations across descriptions Let us now explore the question of what kind of language samples to base typological generalizations on (cf. Section 1.2.2). In the ideal case, such generalizations should be based on comprehensive descriptions that draw on evidence from natural discourse within a range of registers (as opposed to only elicited or constructed examples). This is a point that emerges very clearly from the work by H. A. Gleason Jr., Robert Longacre and Joseph Grimes and the work guided by them (see for example Longacre 1990; Grimes 1978.) The reason for this is simple: the discourse evidence is the only way of ensuring that a given description does justice to the

Introduction

language it is concerned with. (This was the way that Halliday 1959, had arrived at his account of Chinese.) If the description is a partial one and if it has not been based on discourse, it is very hard to know whether the categories posited in the description are valid for the language in question or are merely the result of looking at the language through the descriptive framework developed for some other language such as Latin or English – or through a framework of putative universals (such as “deep cases”; see Martin 1996, for discussion). From a systemic functional point of view, the descriptions drawn on in typological work should also ideally be both systemic and functional. This is not primarily because it is easier to base systemic functional generalizations within typology on systemic functional descriptions but rather because that is a way of ensuring that the descriptive coverage is comprehensive. Systemic functional descriptions foreground two aspects of a language that tend not to be foregrounded in other frameworks – systemic organization and metafunctional diversification. The first means that the language is interpreted and described as a resource – as a meaning potential – rather than just as a set of structures or constructions (cf. Section 1.3.3 above). For example, all the transitivity “constructions” or “case frames” discussed in this book are located within an attempt at a comprehensive account of the transitivity system of the language under focus. Thus, as soon as one considers possessive constructions, it should be absolutely clear how they relate to (other) ‘relational’ clauses (including ‘locative’ ones), to ‘existential’ clauses and to ‘material’ clauses of giving (and taking). Non-systemic descriptions and accounts in the typological literature have on the whole focused on linguistic structures rather than on linguistic systems, but there are important exceptions, such as Hopper & Thompson ’s (1980) study of the systemic parameters of transitivity. The second aspect means that the language is interpreted and described as simultaneously making three kinds of meaning – textual, interpersonal and ideational. While the ideational metafunction has been fairly well represented in discussions of deep cases, transitivity and the like, the other two metafunctions have been less fortunate both in the description of individual languages and in the typological literature. It is often very hard to find any systematic information about the interpersonal and textual aspects of the grammar of a language and the interpersonal metafunction in particular has not in general been foregrounded in the typological literature (with exceptions such as Chafe & Nichols 1986; Palmer 1986; Sadock & Zwicky 1985; Ultan 1978 – although these studies do not provide a general interpretation of the phenomena they are concerned with in terms of the interpersonal metafunction). (For example, how many reference grammars foreground the interpersonal grammar of dialogue, bringing out the resources of interaction? Compare Ochs, Schegloff & Thompson’s (1996) focus on grammar and interaction.) Martin (1990) discusses the problem of the backgrounding of interpersonal systems in the descriptions of Tagalog, including the valuable standard






reference grammar by Schachter & Otanes (1972). Similarly, in the recent, very valuable typological field worker’s guide by T. Payne (1997), textual and interpersonal concerns are bundled together in one of the last chapter of the book under the heading of “pragmatically marked structures”. However, if one approaches the description of the grammar of a language through naturally occurring texts, both the interpersonal and the textual need to be part of the picture from the start. In fact, either of these metafunctions may prove to be a better way into the language than the ideational one. There are thus excellent reasons for basing typological generalizations on comprehensive, systemic functional, text-based descriptions. But there is an obvious practical problem with using only this approach: it would give us far too small a sample of languages. According to current estimates, there are around 6,000 languages spoken around the world (6,072 according to the latest edition of the Ethnologue) and they can be grouped into something like 300 stocks (Nichols 1998: 127). (For a recent survey of the languages of the world, see also Lyovin 1997.) Only a small handful of these have been described systemic-functionally – of the order of 20 languages from around 10 different language families: see Table 1.8. Even if we add comprehensive, text-based descriptions from other functional frameworks – of which there are many more descriptions than there are systemic functional ones, we still do not get anywhere near a representative sample. What would constitute a representative sample? Greenberg (1966) operated with a sample of the order of 30 languages; but this was an exploratory study and since this seminal work it has been shown very clearly that much larger samples are needed. (For example, Dryer 1988, has shown that the correlation between “object-verb order” and “adjective-noun order” posited by Greenberg does not hold up in a significantly larger sample of languages; cf. also T. Payne 1997: 86; Whaley 1997: 40–41.) Later studies have increased the sample size; for example, Ultan’s (1978: 213) systematic study of “interrogative systems” used a sample of “79 languages selected as randomly as possible in terms of geographical, genetic, and typological distribution” and Dryer (1992) uses a sample of 625 languages. Nichols (1991: Section 1.4) discusses different approaches to the sampling of languages for the purposes of typology (for discussion, see also Whaley 1997: 36–43), differentiating between “bottom-up” sampling procedure, where the starting point is to control the time depth of the sample and the size is based on this, and “topdown” sampling procedure, where the sample size is decided on first, “then the distribution of sampled languages among groups is designed so as to either maximize genetic distance or equalize genetic membership” (ibid.: 38). Nichols (1991; 1998: 134) suggests a bottom-up method for developing a representative sample of languages: take “one well-described language from each major (or initial) branch of each stock”. Since stocks vary in branching (Nichols 1998: 129), this would give a sample of the order of 400 to 500 languages. In the sample Nichols draws on,

Introduction

she has only 220 languages, “partly because data gathering is not complete but mostly because there are many stocks for which not even one daughter language has a satisfactory published description” (emphasis added). The lack of satisfactory descriptions is thus a problem; the lack of comprehensive, functional, text-based descriptions is an even greater one. To develop a satisfactory description is obviously a significant research task. Dixon (1997: 138) estimates that it would take three years to develop a new description: There are 2,000 or 3,000 languages, for which we have no decent description, that will pass into disuse within the next few generations. . . . If one can hire a properly trained linguist – someone who has already written a grammar as a Ph.D. dissertation and has a thorough grounding in Basic Theory – they will need salary for themselves and for their language consultants; travel funds; equipment; facilities for writing up the description, producing a dictionary and volume of texts; and so on. At least 3 years is needed to do a good job; the total cost will be (at 1997 values) around $ US 200,000.

To do a good job using systemic functional theory rather than what Dixon calls “Basic Theory” would, we think, take considerably longer – we would be inclined to multiply Dixon’s figure by three, giving us a total of nine years – that is, US$600,000; but there is every reason to invest in this value-addition to “basic theory” because the result will be much richer accounts that can serve many more uses, including providing linguistic resources for educational programs within the communities where the languages are spoken – and for possible revival work in future! From the considerations about sampling that we have just outlined, it follows that a practical approach to systemic functional typology has to be two-pronged. On the one hand it has to be based on a small sample of comprehensive, discoursebased descriptions to ensure that the typological generalizations are reliable and semantically rich. On the other hand it also has to be based on a large sample (ideally 400 to 500 languages) of descriptions (which will of course inevitably be less comprehensive) to ensure that the typological generalization is balanced across the populations of currently spoken languages. This is at present only a research vision: we are not aware of any systemic functional researchers who have received any funding to realize such a vision; but we hope the contributions in this book will be a step towards one of the two prongs.

. Organization of the book This volume comprises eight chapters dedicated to the languages mentioned above, and a final chapter which addresses typological issues by making generalizations






Table 1.7 Languages described in systemic functional terms (bold = summary description in this volume) Family 1 Indo-European

Italic

Germanic

2 Niger-Congo

Celtic Kwa

3 Afro-Asiatic

Benue-Congo Semitic

4 Uralic 5 Dravidian

Cushitic Finno-Ugric

6 Austro-Asiatic 7 Sino-Tibetan

Mon-Khmer Sinitic

8 Tai-Kadai 9 ? 10 Austronesian

Tai Western Austronesian

11 Australian Aboriginal Pama-Nyungan ? 12 Papuan 13 Oto-Manguean 14 [Sign Languages]

Language French (Caffarel, this volume) Spanish (Arús 2003; Lavid forthc., McCabe 1999) German (Steiner & Teich, this volume) Dutch (Degand 1996) Danish (Andersen 1999; Andersen, Helm Petersen & Smedegaard 2001; Frimann 2004) English Irish [phonology] Akan (Matthiessen 1987) Oko Akerejola (in prep.) Mbembe (Barnwell 1969) Arabic (Modern Standard) (Bardi, in prep.) Beja (Hudson 1973) Finnic Finnish (Shore 1992, 1996) Telugu (Prakasam 1972, this volume) Vietnamese (Thai, this volume) Chinese (Halliday & McDonald, this volume) Thai (Patpong, in prep.) Japanese (Teruya, this volume) Philippine Tagalog (Martin, this volume) Indonesian (Sutjaja 1988) Pitjantjatjara (Rose, this volume) Gooniyandi (McGregor 1990) Weri (Boxwell 1990, 1995) Zapotec [phonology] (Mock 1985) Auslan (Johnston 1992)

and comparisons about the metafunctional profiles of the languages discussed in the previous chapters. For comparative purposes, each chapter has a similar structure. The first section of each chapter provides a brief history of the language, Section 2 gives a short preview of the metafunctional organization of the language in question as a stepping stone for understanding the more detailed description presented in Section 3. Section 3 presents a description of the paradigmatic and syntagmatic organization of the clause grammar of the language concerned, foregrounding which systems

Introduction

are more likely to reoccur across languages and which systems are specific to the language in question. The realization of each metafunction is illustrated by means of texts, as the text is interpreted in systemic terms as instantiating the system. We explore interpersonal clause grammar by analysing the resources for exchanging meanings in dialogic texts. We explore a sub-part of ideational grammar, namely the experiential clause grammar, by analysing the resources for construing our experience of the world around us and inside us as meaning in different text types to foreground the different process types that are differentiated in each language, and the different means of realizing process-participants configurations. Finally we explore textual grammar by analysing the resources for assigning different textual statuses to clausal elements in different text types. Each chapter concludes with a typological outlook of the language described.

Notes . We cannot go into a comparison of systemic functional linguistics with other contemporary approaches. But it is worth noting that at the theoretical level it shares a number of features with other members of the general family of functional approaches to language (including its younger relative “West-Coast functionalism”) and that at the representational level it also shares certain features with unification-based approaches to grammar (there is a line of influence from Halliday’s work to Martin Kay’s functional unification grammar to lexical-functional grammar and later unification-based approaches). Butler (2003) provides an excellent guide to what he calls Structural – Functional theories. . But there are of course precursors in what Halliday & Matthiessen (1999: 606–607) call “biosemiotic” systems, as when the visual system construes the world and when intention is enacted as bodily movement. . In systemic functional theory, “lexicogrammar” is the unified stratal system of wording: it comprises grammar and lexis (vocabulary), the two being related on a continuum (rather than constituting discrete modules); and grammar comprises both “syntax” and “morphology” (what has been called “morpho-syntax”), the two being simply different domains on the rank scale (see Section 1.3.5 below) – “syntax” is the grammar of clauses and groups/phrases and “morphology” is the grammar of words (and morphemes). . In his attempt to suggest that there was room for systemic functional work within the growing Chomskyan hegemony of the mid 1960s, Halliday (1964/1981: 22) wrote: “If I was asked to characterize the work in which I have been engaged together with some of my colleagues, I would say that our aim is to show the patterns inherent in the linguistic performance of the native speaker: this is what we mean by ‘how the language works’. This presupposes a general description of those patterns which the linguist considers to be primary in the language, a description which is then variably extendable, on the ‘scale of delicacy’, in depth of detail. It involves the characterization of the special features, including statistical properties, of varieties of the language used for different purposes (‘registers’),






and the comparison of individual texts, spoken and written, including literary texts.” Halliday was not successful in making the case; and various text-based systemic functional studies in the 1960s were not accepted for publication. . Since “meaning” is the central property of language and other semiotic systems, it makes sense to characterize the potential pole of the cline of instantiation of a semiotic system as a meaning potential. This meaning potential will of course embody stratal subsystems – a sounding potential (phonology), a wording potential (lexicogrammar) and a meaning potential in the narrower sense of the potential of the semantic system. . For longer account of SFL, see Martin (1993) and Matthiessen & Halliday (1997), which is available on the web: http://minerva.ling.mq.edu.au/resource/VirtuallLibrary/Publications/sfg_firststep/ SFG%20intro%20New.html Eggins (1994) provides an accessible book-length introduction to the model; Matthiessen & Halliday (in prep.) is an outline for more advanced students. . Just like the systemic part of the system networks, the realization statements are purely “declarative” forms of representation; they are not “procedural” rules (cf. Matthiessen & Bateman 1991). . We are only considering major clauses here; What an inviting cake! would be minor, since it lacks a Predicator. . Thus perhaps the need for the colloquial two move rendering as What an inviting cake that is – NOT! . This can be confirmed by substituting be with identifying verbs that show passive; e.g. Liam played Qui-Gon – ‘operative’, Qui-Gon was played by Liam – ‘receptive’. . In this respect, systemic functional linguistics thus differs from both formal, generative approaches and functional approaches such as “West-Coast functionalism”. Unlike the former, systemic functional linguistics does not postulate the development of formal representation as a general goal and it does not equate theory with representation; instead, it pursues the development of formal representation only in those contexts where there is a clear need for it. Unlike the latter, systemic functional linguistics does concern itself with formal representation; but systemic functional linguistics looks towards forms of representation that do as much justice as possible to the theoretical understanding of language (one example of which is the exploration of Zadeh’s fuzzy logic as a representational system; cf. Matthiessen 1995b). . Heine, Claudi & Hünnemeyer (1991: 213) list the following “common linguistic effects of grammaticalization”: semantic – concrete > abstract meaning, lexical > grammatical content; pragmatic – pragmatic > syntactic function, low > high text frequency; morphological – free form > clitic, clitic > bound form, compounding > derivation, derivation > inflection; phonological – full > reduced form, reduced form > loss in segmental status. They can all be interpreted in terms of the multidimensional model represented in Figure 1.9. The morphological “effects” are all related to the move down the rank scale referred to above. The pragmatic “effects” do not constitute a coherent category in a systemic functional interpretation: the move from low to high text frequency concerns the probability of instantiation, which is associated with the move along the cline of delicacy from the lexical end to the grammatical end; but the move from “pragmatic” function to “syntactic” function

Introduction

is, in principle, a metafunctional one. Indeed we need to add the change in metafunctional domain as a “common linguistic effect” of grammaticalization. As we have already noted, the dominant direction seems to be from the ideational to the interpersonal or the textual metafunction. For example, “case markers” tend to move from circumstantial types to Complement and Subject (cf. Lehman 1988: 63–64). We should note, however, that when non-systemic linguists talk about the move from “pragmatic” to “syntactic” this may mean either a metafunctional move from textual to interpersonal or a move along the cline of instantiation from discursive patterns to the systemic potential. . For book-length introductory material see Bloor & Bloor (1995), Thompson (1996); Martin et al. (1997) is the main workbook for this material; for the systems assumed in Halliday (1994), see Matthiessen (1995a). . For discussion of modes of meaning in relation to tiers of structure in other functional models, see Dik et al. (1990), Hengeveld (1990), Van Valin (1993). . The category of “Complement” is roughly equivalent to that of (direct and indirect) “Object” in traditional grammar and in accounts that build on traditional grammar except that “Complement” also includes the “predicative complement” of traditional grammar (e.g. ambitious in Caesar was ambitious). The term “Complement” is preferred for two important reasons. (1) On the one hand, it indicates the functional status of the Complement in the interpersonal structure of the clause: it “complements” the Subject in specifying those elements that have the status of being interpersonally arguable – either actually (Subject) or potentially (Complement): that is, Complements are in principle potential Subjects. (2) On the other hand, the term “Object” is misleading since it is tied to the traditional account of transitivity within the experiential metafunction – the transitive model (see Section 1.4.2) where the “object” is the participant being impacted. The term “object” is thus best avoided. We should note that the status of Complements is typologically variable: languages differ with respect to the extent to which nominal groups serving as Complements are agnate with Subjects; and this is typically related to the nature of the voice system of the language. For example, in German only certain Complements correspond to Subjects in agnate passive clauses (see Steiner & Teich, this volume) and in Akan none do; but the distinction between Complement and Adjunct still seems to be justified. Even (Modern) English, which has a very extended passive voice, has certain constraints: Complements conflated with the Attribute in ascriptive clauses have no agnate Subjects (e.g. we cannot say all day was lasted by the meeting). . Halliday’s distinction between group and phrase is relevant here, since groups involve seriality (e.g. word complexing in nominal and verbal groups) whereas phrases do not (the Preposition Complement structure of the prepositional phrase). . For discussion of cryptogrammatic reasoning see Whorf (1956) and Martin (1988). . The domain of this system is actually the information unit rather than the clause, but in the unmarked case they are co-extensive (see Halliday 1967, 1994: Chapter 8; Matthiessen 1995a: 603–607). . I read the first four clauses as involving a 13 tone, with a falling pitch movement on the first prepositional phrase and a level tone on the second (Halliday’s New, then semi-New pattern; 1994: 303); I took the fifth clause as tone 1, with a fall on skittle.






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Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (1999a). “The System of transitivity: An exploratory study of text-based profiles”. Functions of Language, 6(1), 1–51. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (1999b). “A systemic functional exploration of the evolution of language in relation to ontogenesis.” In Conference Abstracts: Children’s Language Conversations across Disciplines, University of Sydney, 15–17 December 1999. 6 pages. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (2001). “The Environments of Translation.” In Colin Yallop & Erich Steiner (Ed.), Beyond Content: Exploring translation and multilingual text (pp. 41–124). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (forthc.). “A systemic functional exploration of the evolution of language in relation to ontogenesis.” In G. Williams & A. Lukin (Eds.). London: Continuum. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. & John A. Bateman (1991). Systemic Linguistics and Text Generation: Experiences from Japanese and English. London: Frances Pinter. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. & M. A. K. Halliday (1997). Systemic Functional Grammar: A first step into the theory. Sydney: Macquarie University. [URL: http://minerva.ling. mq.edu.au/Resources/VirtuallLibrary/Publications/sfg_firststep/SFG%20intro%20New. html] Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. & Halliday, M. A. K. (in prep.). Outline of Systemic Functional Linguistics. Volume 1, current perspective; Volume 2, historical and comparative survey. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. & Christopher Nesbitt (1996). “On the Idea of TheoryNeutral Descriptions”. In Carmel Cloran, David Butt, & Ruqaiya Hasan Functional Descriptions: Theory into practice (pp. 39–85). Amsterdam: Benjamins. McCabe, Anne (1999). Theme and Thematic Patterns in Spanish and English History Texts. PhD Dissertation. Aston University. McGregor, William (1990). A Functional Grammar of Gooniyandi. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: Benjamins. Mitchell, T. F. (1957). “The Language of Buying and Selling in Cyrenaica: A situational statement”. Hesperis, 26, 31–71. Reprinted in T. F. Mitchell (1975), Principles of NeoFirthian Linguistics (pp. 167–200). London: Longman. Mock, Carol C. (1969). The Grammatical Units of the Nzema Language: A systemic analysis. University of London: PhD thesis. Mock, Carol C. (1985). “A Systemic Phonology of Isthmus Zapotec Prosodies”. In James D. Benson & William S. Greaves (Eds.), Systemic Perspectives on Discourse (pp. 349–373). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Nichols, Johanna (1986). “Head-Marking and Dependent-Marking Grammar”. Language, 62, 56–117. Nichols, Johanna (1992). Linguistic Diversity in Space and Time. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Nichols, Johanna (1998). “The Origin and Dispersal of Languages: Linguistic evidence”. In Nina G. Jablonski & Leslie C. Aiello (Eds.), The Origin and Diversification of Language (= Memoirs of the California Academy of Sciences, Number 24) (pp. 127–171). O’Toole, Michael (1994). The Language of Displayed Art. London: Leicester University Press (Pinter).

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Introduction

Shore, Susanna (1996). “Process Types in Finnish: Implicate order, covert categories and prototypes”. In Carmel Cloran, David Butt, & Ruqaiya Hasan (Eds.), Functional Descriptions: Theory into practice (pp. 237–265). Amsterdam: Benjamins. Steiner, Erich (1988). “The Interaction of Language and Music as Semiotic Systems: The example of a folk ballad”. In Michael J. Cummings, William S. Greaves, & James D. Benson (Eds.), Linguistics in a Systemic Perspective (pp. 393–441). Amsterdam: Benjamins. Steiner, Erich (1992). “Some Remarks on a Functional Level for Machine Translation”. Language Sciences, 14(4), 623–659. Steiner, Erich & Colin Yallop (Eds.). (2001). Beyond Content: Exploring translation and multilingual text production. Berlin & New York: de Gruyter. Sutjaja, I Gusti Made (1988). The Nominal Group in Bahasa Indonesia. University of Sydney: PhD thesis. Talmy, Leonard (1985). “Lexicalisation Patterns”. In Timothy Shopen (Ed.), Language Typology and Syntactic Description. Volume III. Grammatical categories and the lexicon (pp. 57–149). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Teich, Elke (1999). Systemic Functional Grammar in Natural Language Generation: Linguistic description and computational representation. London: Cassell. Teich, Elke (2001). Contrast and commonality between English and German in system and text: a methodology for the investigation of cross-linguistic variation in translations and multilingually comparable texts. Universität des Saarlandes, Philosophische Fakultät II: Habitilationsschrift. Thai, Minh Duc (1998). A Systemic Functional Interpretation of Vietnamese Grammar. Macquarie University: PhD thesis. Thompson, Geoff (1996). Introducing Functional Grammar. London: Hodder Education. Thompson, Sandra A. (1988). “A Discourse Approach to the Cross-linguistic Category of ‘adjective’.” Hawkins 1988, 167–185. Tozzer, Alfred M. (1921). A Maya Grammar. Republished in 1977. New York: Dover. Traugott, Elizabeth & Bernd Heine (Eds.). (1991). Approaches to Grammaticalization. 2 volumes. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Trevarthen, Colwyn (1987). “Sharing Making Sense: Intersubjectivity and the making of an infant’s meaning”. In Ross Steele & Terry Threadgold (Eds.), Language Topics. Essays in honour of Michael Halliday. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Ultan, Russell (1978). “Some General Characteristics of Interrogative Systems”. In Joseph H. Greenberg (Ed.), Universals of Human Language. Volume 4: Syntax (pp. 211–248). Stanford: Stanford University Press. Viberg, Åke (1984). “The Verbs of Perception: A typological study”. Butterworth, Comrie, & Dahl (Eds.), 123–162. Van Valin, Robert D. (1993). “A Synopsis of Role and Reference Grammar”. In Robert D. Van Valin (Ed.), Advances in Role and Reference Grammar (pp. 1–164). Amsterdam: Benjamins. Wells, Rulon S. (1947). “Immediate Constituents.” Language, 23, 399–418. Whaley, Lindsay J. (1997). Introduction to Typology: The unity and diversity of language. Thousand Oaks, London & New Delhi: Sage.

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Chapter 2

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French Alice Caffarel University of Sydney

This chapter explores the grammar of French from a systemic functional typological perspective. This means identifying which French grammatical subsystems tend to be similar across languages and which subsystems tend to vary. This description focuses in particular on clause-rank systems. These systems, according to systemic theory, are metafunctionally diversified, and the way French grammar construes each metafunction – the interpersonal, the experiential and the textual – is discussed in Section 2.3. Section 2.1 locates French in its historical context. Section 2.2 gives a general preview of French lexicogrammatical systems and structures. Section 2.3 provides a more detailed description of French grammar. It foregrounds which systems are more likely to reoccur across languages and which systems are French specific. The mood systems are explored first, then the transitivity systems, and finally the theme systems. Section 2.4 provides a systemic typological profile of French.

. French through time and space French belongs to the Romance branch of the Indo-European language family. The French language started to develop in Gaul following the Roman invasion which began in 154 BC. The language of the Gauls was a Celtic language, Gaulish. But gradually the Latin introduced in Gaul by the Romans took over from Gaulish and became the spoken language of both Gauls and Romans. French evolved from the so-called vulgar Latin which was used in spoken exchanges and spread by merchants, soldiers and Roman officials (Goosse 1993: 9). Vulgar Latin developed differently in different parts of the Roman empire due to different linguistic influences. The Latin spoken in Gaul kept some lexical items from the Gaulish

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language, especially items referring to trees, landscape and soil (Rickard 1996: 4). However, as Walter (1994: 225) wrote, it is wrong to think that French is a descendant of Gaulish. Rather it developed from the evolution of Latin in Gaul and the influences of other languages, in particular the Germanic language of the Frank invaders who entered Gaul at the beginning of the fifth century. Walter (1994: 225) points out that: If one wants to characterize the French language in one sentence, we can say that it is the most Germanic of the Roman languages. Its name, inherited from the Frank invaders, confirms this. However, if we ask its speakers, they have a tendency to retrace the origin of French to the Gaulish, which is a grave mistake. In fact, the history of the French language is both the history of the Latin spoken in Gaul and the history of its constant enrichment in contact with neighbouring languages. [My translation – AC.]

French Germanic invasions had important linguistic consequences. First, Latin disappeared in regions were Germans were in the majority, such as in Alsace and the Flemish part of Belgium and the north of Switzerland. In other regions, the Germanic language stayed long enough to influence the Latin spoken there. In the north of Gaul, the Franks constituted a ruling class, and their language, le francique, gave the French language far more lexical and grammatical characteristics than the Gaulish language had (Goosse 1993). A new vernacular was officially recognized in 813 when “French bishops agreed that priests should preach in the Romance vernacular understood by every one” (Rickard 1996: 18). Because Latin had then evolved as the written language, there would be no record of the Romance vernacular till the year 842, when Charles the Bold and Louis the German sealed their alliance by oaths (“Les serments de Strasbourg”) in “French” (the popular Roman language spoken at the time in the north of France) rather than in Latin. Through history, mostly as a consequence of colonization, the French language has developed outside Europe and many varieties of French are to be found nowadays in Africa, Canada, Asia and Oceania. This account will give an overall picture of French lexicogrammatical resources taking into account some aspects of registerial variation but not dialectal variation.

. A short overview of French grammar First, some general aspects regarding the organization of French grammar will be discussed and then some of the characteristics of the metafunctional organization of the clause will be highlighted.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French

.. Rank and metafunction The lexicogrammatical system in systemic functional theory is modelled as being organized by rank, rather than by immediate constituent structure as in formal theories. In French, the clause is at the top of the rank-scale hierarchy. It is followed downwards by group rank, then word rank, and morpheme rank. The example in the table below shows that a French clause consists of groups, groups consist of words and words consist of morphemes. Table 2.1 The constituent structure of French clauses Rank clause

Examples (taken from Todd 1988: 17) ||| La centralisation administrative et politique est une valeur française fondamentale. ||| “Political and administrative centralization is a fundamental French quality.” group || La centralisation administrative et politique | est | une valeur française fondamentale || word || La, centralisation, administrative, et, politique, | est, | une, valeur, française, fondamentale || morpheme || L+a, centralis+ation, administrati+ve, et, politique, | être+pres+3sg, | un+e, valeur, français+e, fondamental+e ||

The grammatical unit within each rank may either be simplex or complex. In this account of the French lexicogrammatical system, we will focus on the clause simplex systems alone, that is, mood, transitivity and theme. The rank location of these systems may vary across languages and is one of the important parameters for typologizing languages from the perspective of the system. In French these three systems are located at clause rank as shown in the metafunction-rank matrix below, but may be realized at verbal group rank, as discussed in Section 2.3.2. Table 2.2 Distribution of French clause systems Rank clause

Metafunction experiential transitivity: process type agency

interpersonal mood modality & polarity

textual theme

.. A preview of the French clause From a formal viewpoint, French could be categorized as both an SVO language and an analytic al language. However, once participants are pronominalized, French can be seen as an SOV language with polysynthetic characteristics. This is illustrated in examples (1) and (2) below:

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(1) Yannick passe le jouet à son frère. Yannick passes the toy to his brother “Yannick passes the toy to his brother.” (2) Il le lui passe. he it to-him passes “He passes it to him.” Concurrently to agglutinating participants to the verbal group, French can introduce participants as absolute Theme at the beginning of the clause. Absolute Themes are Themes that do not have a role in the transitivity structure of the clause. Their function is solely textual, i.e. to introduce the participants that are represented in the clause. The clitics which are coreferential with the absolute Theme indicate the role of the participants. (See Section 2.3.4 on Theme.) Thus in example (3) below, the clause is about Yannick and le jouet, which are absolute Themes, and their role is indicated respectively by il and le. Il indicates that Yannick is Actor/Subject whilst le indicates that le jouet is Goal/Complement. (3) Yannick, le jouet, il le passe à son frère Yannick the toy he it passes to his brother “Yannick passes the toy to his brother.” (4) Yannick, il le passe à son frère, le jouet. Yannick he it passes to his brother the toy “Yannick passes the toy to his brother.” (5) Yannick, le jouet, il le lui passe à son frère. Yannick the toy he it to-him passes to his brother “He gives it to him.” (6) Yannick, le jouet, à son frère il le passe. Yannick the toy to his brother he it passes “Yannick gives it to his brother.” Note that in example (6) à son frère “to his brother” is not an absolute Theme but a marked topical Theme within the nucleus of the clause. It cannot be introduced as absolute Theme at the beginning of the clause because its transitivity function is marked by the preposition à. As examples (4) and (5) show, absolute Themes can be clause initial or clause final; if final, they are reprise absolute Themes. As already mentioned, this dislocation of participants serves to introduce what the clause is about. The pronominals within the clause indicate the functions of the participants introduced in the Theme. This feature of the French language is shared by Pitjantjatjara (see Chapter 8). Some characteristics of the French interpersonal, experiential and textual systems and function structures are highlighted in the next section.


... Interpersonal preview Mood options in French are realized both by what Matthiessen (1995: 464) refers to as phonological prosody (intonation) and grammatical prosodies (juncture and internal). Within the indicative mood, declarative and interrogative are differentiated by either tone alone or by tone together either with the Mood interrogator est-ce que (juncture prosody) or with the ordering of Finite before Subject (internal prosody). The Mood interrogator est-ce que is referred to as juncture prosody, since it occurs at the beginning of the modal structure of the clause and has scope over the whole clause. Its function is to set the mood of the clause as interrogative. The positioning of Finite before Subject is also prosodic in the sense that the systemic option ‘interrogative’ is realized by the ordering of the two functions, not by a single element, so that the concatenations Subject before Finite: Finite before Subject indicate a contrast analogous to falling versus rising tone. The imperative is distinguished from the indicative by the absence of Finite and overt Subject. These different means of realizing mood options is French as shown in Table 2.3 on page 83 below. Note that in the imperative mood pronominals are suffixed to the process, while in the declarative they are prefixed. Prosodic means of realization are used to realize other interpersonal resources such as polarity and modality. The realization of negative polarity is prosodic in the sense that the items realizing it occur in different places in the clause, as for example, ne ... pas “not”, ne ... rien “nothing”, ne ... jamais “never” or ne ... plus “no more”: see example (7). Modality can also be expressed repeatedly, lexically and morphologically. In example (8) modality is expressed three times: first by the modal verb devoir, secondly by specifying modal rather than temporal reference to the speech event in the ending -rais and third by the modal adjunct probablement. (7) Je n’ ai plus faim. I neg have more hunger “I’m not hungry any more.” (8) Je devrais probablement partir. I must-mod probably go “I should probably go.” The realization of the interpersonal function of Subject in French can also be interpreted as prosodic in that it spreads across the verbal group (Finite/Predicator) by means of agreement. The agreement criterion is one of the recognition criteria for Subject in French, and serves to bind the functions of Subject, Finite and Predicator together. We will see in Section 2.3.1 on mood that these three functions form part of what I have referred to as the Negotiator of the clause, the Negotiator being functionally analogous to the Mood element of English.

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(9) Nous reviendrons. we come-back-fut-1pl “We will come back.” (10) Elle est revenue she come-back-past-3sg “She came back.” In English the specific character of the Moodtag and its cohesive relation to Subject act as a reliable means of recognizing Subject, as in you are early, aren’t you? However, French tags are quite unlike the English ones and no nominal in French is picked up in the tag as it is in English. Although tagging cannot be used as a criterion to probe the Subject in French, we have seen that a polar interrogative may be realized by ordering Finite before Subject. Thus one may probe the validity of the statement elle est malade (“she is sick”) by the confirmation question l’est-elle? (“is she?”). The Subject is always the clitic suffixed to the Finite in a polar interrogative of this type, the Subject being the element “by reference to which the proposition can be affirmed or denied” (Halliday 1994: 76). Another grammatical criterion for identifying the Subject is person and number agreement with the Finite and/or Predicator as shown in examples (9) and (10) above. Thus the Subject is the function which is marked in person and number in the Finite and/or Predicator depending on whether the mood is indicative or imperative, as the following comparisons will show: (11)

Les cloche-s sonn-ent the bell-pl ring-3pl Subject Finite/Predicator “The bells are ringing.”

Here (11) is a declarative with les cloches as its Subject; the Finite/Predicator agrees with it in person and number. In (12), which is an imperative, les cloches is Complement, but since the marking on the Predicator in an imperative relates to the Subject, the person and number marked on the Predicator signal the addressee’s person and number. (12)

Sonnez les cloches! ring-2sg+formal the bells Predicator Complement “Ring the bells!”

While in French, intonation is a primary realizational resource for mood options, the Subject together with the Finite and the Predicator are at least equally crucial to its realization, since it is the fall or rise of the tone on the Predicator which is


Table 2.3 Realization of mood options declarative (falling tone) interrogative: polar (rising tone)

interrogative: non-polar (rising^falling tone)

indicative Yannick passe le jouet à son frère. (phonological prosody: falling tone) Il le lui passe. Yannick passe le jouet à son frère? (phonological prosody: rising tone) Est-ce que Yannick passe le jouet à son frère? (juncture prosody) Yannick, passe-t-il le jouet à son frère? (internal prosody) “Is Yannick passing the toy to his brother?” Yannick, il passe le jouet à qui? (phonological prosody: rising^falling) A qui est-ce qu’il passe le jouet? (grammatical prosody: juncture) A qui passe-t-il le jouet? (grammatical prosody: internal) “To whom is Yannick passing the toy?”

imperative Passe le jouet à ton frère. Passe-le-lui.

criterial to mood choice recognition. Note in passing that the Predicator is the last function of the Negotiator.

... Experiential preview Transitivity options in French are realized segmentally, both at clause and verbal group rank. As seen in Section 2.2.2 when participants are pronominals rather than nominals, they are cliticized to the verbal group. Participants and some circumstances (location and matter) that have the potential to be realized at verbal group rank form the nucleus of the French clause. Other circumstances are peripheral and cannot be cliticized as shown in Table 2.4 below. Table 2.4 Realization of transitivity functions nucleus Je parlerai à Pierre de ce problème I speak-fut to Pierre about this problem “I will speak to Pierre about this problem . . . group rank realization Je lui en parlerai I to-him of-it speak-fut “I will speak to him about it” clause rank realization

periphery demain tomorrow”

The choice between cliticizing and not cliticizing participants/circumstances is a textual one. Clitics tend to be Given whilst non-clitics tend to be New. The part of

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Table 2.5 Variation in textual prominence within the clause nucleus Pierre donne un livre à Françoise. Pierre gives a book to Françoise Actor Process Goal Beneficiary Unmarked Rheme Theme Given New

the clause which is most salient interpersonally, that is, the Negotiator, maps onto what is experientially the clause nucleus. The clause nucleus consists of the obligatory Process + Medium, plus other potential participants and some circumstances which may be cliticized to the Process. Transitivity functions that have the potential to be realized at group rank are nuclear in the sense that they are inherent in the nuclear process. The clause nucleus is, typically, textually unmarked and Given as shown in Table 2.5 above. From a systemic viewpoint, French transitivity consists of two simultaneous systems which reflect two different but complementary modes of construing experience, the transitive and the ergative, as suggested for English by Halliday (1985/1994) and Matthiessen (1995). As shown in Caffarel (1997: 251), the Halliday–Matthiessen hypothesis on transitivity gives us the means of interpreting the experiential organization of example (13), ils avaient ligoté l’ours comme un vulgaire paquet (“he had tied up the bear like a vulgar parcel”), both from a transitive and an ergative perspective: (13)

Ils he transitive Actor ergative Agent

avaient ligoté had tied up Process Process

l’ours the bear Goal Medium

comme un vulgaire paquet like a vulgar parcel Manner Manner

The transitive analysis of (13) foregrounds that the action performed by the first participant, namely the Actor, extends to (impacts upon) the second participant, namely the Goal. The ergative analysis of (13) foregrounds that the action actualized through the second participant, the Medium, is caused by a participant external to the Process + Medium configuration, namely the Agent. Whilst the transitive perspective foregrounds different domains of experience (doing-&-happening, being-&-having, thinking-&-saying) which are differentiated in the grammar of French by the different process types (material, relational, mental and verbal), the ergative perspective generalizes across the different process types to foreground whether the process has been engendered (effective) or not (middle) by an external cause. The interaction of the two approaches is illustrated in Table 2.6 below. Note that the reflexive pronoun se (cliticized here as s’) in the ‘middle’ clauses above serves to mark explicitly that the clause is non-agentive.


Table 2.6 The transitive and ergative perspectives Ergative perspective middle (the process is not brought about by an external cause) effective (the process is brought about by an external cause)

Transitive perspective (differentiates between different experiential domains) material mental relational Le vase s’est cassé. L’auditoir s’ennuie. Cet enfant s’appelle Paul. “The vase broke.” Rémi a cassé le vase. “Rémi broke the vase.”

“The audience is bored.” Le conférencier ennuie son auditoire. “The speaker bores the audience.”

“This child calls himself Paul.” Sa mère l’a appellé Paul. “His mother called him Paul.”

Having overviewed some of the main characteristics of French experiential grammar, I will now turn to textual grammar.

... Textual preview French thematic options are realized mostly clause initially with some Themes being reprised clause finally. They may be absolute or non-absolute (i.e. topical); if non-absolute, they may be marked or unmarked; and if marked, they may be predicated or non-predicated. As seen in Section 2.2.2, absolute Themes do not play a role in the transitivity structure of the clause – they are solely textual. Topical theme, on the other hand, maps onto an experiential function, either participant, circumstance or process. Predication can also be used to mark a participant or circumstance as Theme. Consider some of the textual variations which are possible in French: (14)

Claudia est allée chez ses parents lundi Claudia went to her parents’ place Monday unmarked Theme: topical Rheme “Claudia went to her parents’ place on Monday.”

(15)

Lundi Claudia est allée chez ses parents Monday Claudia went to her parents’ place marked Theme: topical Rheme “On Monday Claudia went to her parents’ place.”

(16)

Claudia, elle est allée chez ses parents lundi Claudia, she went to her parents’ place Monday absolute Theme Rheme “She went to her parents’ place on Monday.”

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î

î

ê ê

MOOD

major clause +Predicator

indicative + Subj. imperative

î

ê ê î

í TRANSITIVITY í

î

THEME

ê ê î

non-polar + rising-falling tone

interrogative í

polar + rising tone

declarative +falling tone

phonological prosody (intonation alone) grammatical prosody (intonation plus)

material mental relational

juncture + Mood interrogator: est-ce que internal Finite^Subject

middle effective

absolute non-absolute

marked

predicated

non-predicated unmarked Subject/Theme

Figure 2.1 A systemic preview of French clause grammar

(17)

Elle est allée chez ses parents lundi, Claudia she went to her parents’ place Monday, Claudia unmarked Rheme reprise Theme Theme “She went to her parents’ place on Monday.”

(18)

C’ est lundi que Claudia est allée chez ses parents it is Monday that Claudia went to her parents’ place predicated Theme Rheme “It was on Monday that Claudia went to her parents’ place.”

A systemic summary of the options discussed in Section 2.2 concludes this preview: see Figure 2.1.

. French clause grammar: A metafunctional profile In this section, I will explore in more detail the systems of mood, transitivity and theme, foregrounding which features of French are more likely to recur across languages and which features are more likely to be French specific.


clause

indicative + S, F. P imperative +P

declarative + falling tone interrogative + rising tone

polar + rising tone non-polar + qu-element rising^falling tone

Figure 2.2 The core mood options (S = Subject; F = Finite; P = Predicator)

.. mood With regard to the interpersonal metafunction, we can assume that every language constructs dialogue for exchanging meaning: for exchanging information (propositions) and for exchanging goods-&-services (proposals) (Halliday 1984; 1985: Chapter 4). From this we can predict that the primary speech functions of statement, question and command will be differentiated in the grammar of mood by different prosodies, either intonational alone or both intonational and grammatical. The primary mood options in French reflect the contrast between the exchange of information and the exchange of goods-&-services by distinguishing between indicative and imperative, as schematized in the system network in Figure 2.2. I would suggest that the contrasts represented by the features in the mood network above are probably present across languages, but the realization of these contrasts will vary across languages as differences are more likely to occur in the structural realizations of the systems than in the semantics realized by the general grammatical features. The realization statements attached to the features indicate what functions and tones are crucial to the realization of French mood options. As mentioned in the preview (Section 2.2.2), the indicative mood is realized in French by the presence of the Subject, Finite and Predicator functions, while the imperative is realized by the Predicator alone. In the imperative, the Subject function is not realized by an overt constituent; instead, subject person and number are marked on the verbal group functioning as Predicator (see Section 2.3.1.1.2). The interrogative system distinguishes between two types of interrogative which reflect the speech functional contrast that exists between confirmation questions and information questions. The latter types of questions are realized by non-polar interrogatives and serve to seek missing information. They require the presence of a Qu-element, typically (but not always) located clause initially, which has the function of indicating the function of the missing information, whether it is Subject, Complement or a circumstantial Adjunct. Following the Qu-element we often find the Mood interrogator (M-inter) est-ce que which has the function

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of indicating the mood of the clause, namely the interrogative mood. The French mood particle est-ce que is discussed in more detail below. Consider the following examples (taken from Mallet-Joris 1970). (Key: Minter = Mood interrogator; Qu = Qu element; / = conflation, e.g. Qu/Comp = Qu-element conflated with Complement.) (19)

Qu’ est-ce que tu achèterais? what you buy-cond+2sg Qu/Comp M-inter Subject Finite/Predicator “What would you buy?”

(20)

Qui est la délatrice? who is the informer Qu/Subject Finite Complement “Who is the informer?”

(21)

Pourquoi tu ne l’ as pas dit plus tôt? why you neg it have-2sg neg say-past earlier Qu/Adj S Adj Comp Finite Adj Pred Adj cl cl “Why didn’t you say it earlier?”

(22)

Comment est-ce que tu peux être sûre? how you can be sure Qu/Adj M-inter Subject Finite Predicator Comp “How can you be sure?”

In example (19) the speaker is seeking information about the Complement, in (20) about the Subject and in (21) and (22) about the circumstantial Adjunct. In examples (19) and (22) the Mood Interrogator est-ce que follows the Qu-element. The other types of interrogatives, polar interrogatives, realize the semantics of confirmation questions. The function of this type of questions is to seek a positive or negative answer, as shown in the exchanges below (also taken from Mallet-Joris 1970): (23)

(24)

Est-ce que tu aimes papa? you like papa M-inter Subject Pred Comp “Do you like papa?”

– Oui.

“Yes.”

Alors, son fiancé revient? well her fiancé come-back-pres+3sg (Cont) Subject Finite/Predicator “Well, is her fiancé coming back?”

– Non.

“No.”


The Mood interrogator est-ce que is thus found in both non-polar and polar interrogatives. Its function is to set the mood of the clause to interrogative, in conjunction with either rising tone or rising ^ falling tone. We have seen in Section 2.2.2.1 that the Mood interrogator is one of the prosodic means of realizing the interrogative mood in French, in addition to tone and the ordering of the Finite before the Subject. In this preliminary account of French mood system we have suggested that the primary speech functional contrasts realized by the primary mood features in Figure 2.2 were probably differentiated by interpersonal systems across languages and realized by means of different prosodies. In the next section, Section 2.3.1.1, I will turn to the more delicate mood options of French and their realizations. In Section 2.3.1.2 the process of exchange in French will be illustrated by text samples.

... French-specific mood systems In this section I will focus essentially on the French interrogative and imperative systems. The declarative system does not need special attention, as the ordering of elements in the declarative clause is determined by textual rather than interpersonal factors. .... Interrogative mood The systemic model predicts that mood options have a prosodic mode of expression. As was mentioned in Section 2.2, French makes use of all three types of prosodic realization encountered across languages: tone, mood particles and Subject-Finite ordering. In other words, French employs either phonological means alone or a combination of phonological and grammatical strategies, and this is reflected in the more delicate options of the interrogative marking system seen in Figure 2.3 below. Non-polar interrogatives always start with a Qu-element, which conflates with either the Subject or some other interpersonal function (i.e. the Complement or an Adjunct). The conflation of Subject with the Qu-element implies that the option ‘internal’ is closed to this interrogative type, where the Subject always precedes the Finite as a result of its fusion with qui (“who”). The contrast between ‘Qu/ Compl’ and ‘Qu/Adj’ is simultaneous with the contrast between ‘thematic’ and ‘rhematic’. The former means that the Qu-element is positioned clause initially and serves as “point of departure”, while the latter means that the Qu-element is located clause finally and serves as “focus”. When the options ‘Qu/Comp’ and ‘thematic’ are co-selected, then the clause must be realized by a grammatical prosody, either ‘juncture’ or ‘internal’. On the other hand, if the option ‘rhematic’ is chosen, ‘nogrammatical-prosody’ is the only choice. The realization of the ‘Qu/Comp’ varies according to whether it is ‘human’ and ‘non-human’. When it is the latter, it is

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Alice Caffarel

î

ê ê

INTER. TYPE

non-polar +au-element falling tone

# au-Subject î +aui:aui/S

ê í ê

au-other

polar rising tone

î

human au:aui

au-Compl au-Adjunct

non-human au:aue * í thematicî au-Compl

î

thematic au/Theme $ non-thematic au/Rheme

interrogative í

î

INTER. MARKING

î



$ no-grammatical-prosody (intonation alone) grammatical-prosody (intonation plus)

í î

tagged untagged

#

*

juncture +M-marker: est-ce aue internal F^S

Paired symbols if then * * # # $ $

Figure 2.3 The interrogative options

realized as que, when the former, as qui. For an alternative systemic interpretation of French mood systems, see Huddleston and Uren (1969). Examples (25) to (28) show the range of polar interrogatives, and examples (29) to (40) show the range of non-polar interrogatives. ‘polar: no-grammatical-prosody: untagged’ (25)

Tu aimes les gâteaux? you like cakes Subject Finite/Predicator Complement “Do you like cakes?”

‘polar: no-grammatical-prosody: tagged’ (26)

Tu aimes les gâteaux, hein? you like cakes int Subject Finite/Predicator Complement “Do you like cakes?”

‘polar: grammatical-prosody: juncture’ (27)

Est-ce que tu aimes les gâteaux? you like cakes M-inter Subject Finite/Predicator Complement “Do you like cakes?”


‘polar: grammatical-prosody: internal’ (28)

Aimes -tu les gâteaux? like you cakes Finite/Predicator Subject Complement “Do you like cakes?”

Note that the tag in French does not pick up the Subject and Finite, as it does in English. The “now moribund” n’est-ce pas (see Coveney 1990) which literally translates into the English “isn’t it” may also be equivalent to “don’t I”, “haven’t you”, “won’t they”, etc. and can also be used to tag a negative clause and be equivalent to “is she”, “did they”, etc. The use of hein as in example (26) and eh has now overrun the use of n’est-ce pas in casual conversation (Coveney 1990). ‘non-polar: Qu/Subject: no-grammatical-prosody’ (29)

Qui a mangé ce gâteau? who have-3sg eat-past this cake Qu/Subject Finite Predicator Complement “Who ate this cake?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Subject: grammatical-prosody: juncture’ (30)

Qui est-ce qui a mangé ce gâteau? who have-3sg eat-past this cake Qu/Subj M-inter Finite Predicator Complement “Who ate this cake?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Comp: non-human: thematic: grammatical-prosody: internal’ (31)

Que vois -tu? what see-2sg you Qu/Complement Finite/Predicator Subject “What do you see?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Comp: human: thematic: grammatical-prosody: internal’ (32)

Qui vois -tu? who see-2sg you Qu/Complement Finite/Predicator Subject “Who do you see?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Comp: non-human: rhematic: no-grammatical-prosody’ (33)

Tu vois quoi? you see-2sg what Subject Finite/Predicator Qu/Comp “You see what?”

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Alice Caffarel

‘non-polar: Qu/Comp: human: rhematic: no-grammatical-prosody’ (34)

Tu vois qui? you see-2sg who Subject Finite/Predicator Qu/Comp “You see who?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Comp: non-human: thematic: grammatical-prosody: juncture’ (35)

Qu’ est-ce que tu vois? what you see-2sg Qu/Comp M-inter Subject Finite/Predicator “What do you see?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Comp: human: thematic: grammatical-prosody: juncture’ (36)

Qui est-ce que tu vois? who you see-2sg Qu/Comp M-inter Subject Finite/Predicator “Who do you see?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Adj: thematic: no-grammatical-prosody’ (37)

Où tu vas? where you go-2sg Qu/Adjunct Subject Finite/Predicator “Where are you going?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Adj: rhematic: no-grammatical-prosody’ (38)

Tu vas où? you go-2sg where Subject Finite/Predicator Qu/Adjunct “You’re going where?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Adj: thematic: grammatical-prosody: internal’ (39)

Où vas -tu? where go-2sg you Qu/Adjunct Finite/Predicator Subject “Where are you going?”

‘non-polar: Qu/Adj: thematic: grammatical-prosody: juncture’ (40)

Où est-ce que tu vas? where you go-2sg Qu/Adjunct M-inter Subject Finite/Predicator “Where are you going?”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French formal singular exclusive plural

imperative inclusive Pred.: V -ons

Pred.: V -iez informal Pred.: V -ø

Pred.: V -iez

Figure 2.4 The imperative options

Examples (25) to (40) illustrate the various modes of prosodic expression that serve to realize interrogative mood options. Intonation is the prototypical means for prosodic expression; and it may be the only resource used to indicate the systemic mood contrasts in French. In addition to tone, yes-no interrogatives can also be realized by ordering Finite before Subject (F ^ S). The various options in the interrogative marking system do not only indicate variable ways of expressing the same interrogative type, they also embody different semantic valeurs as a result of their use in different environments. Thus, the feature ‘no-grammaticalprosody’ tends to be selected in a spoken context where interactants are familiar with each other; ‘grammatical-prosody: internal’ tends to be used in the written mode, and in particular in literature; while ‘grammatical-prosody: juncture’ tends to be used in a spoken or written mode but in informal contexts. As the system network shows, the interrogative marking system is simultaneous with the interrogative type system. Thus all three types of prosody can be used to realize both polar and non-polar interrogatives. This generalization is not made in Huddleston & Uren’s (1981) account of French mood systems. Although Huddleston and Uren interpret est-ce que as an interrogative particle in the context of polar interrogatives, they do not do so for non-polar interrogatives; examples such as qu’est-ce qu’il a vu? (“what did he see?”) are interpreted as periphrastic: “what is it that they have seen?”

.... Imperative mood From the realizational viewpoint, the imperative mood differs from the indicative by virtue of the absence of the elements Subject and Finite. However, in the imperative the features of person and number relevant to Subject are marked on the Predicator, while in the indicative they are marked on the Finite or on both the Finite and the Predicator. This marking within the verbal group thus becomes a means of recognizing which nominal has the function of Subject; and the principle applies both in propositions where Subject and Finite are in agreement and in proposals where the Predicator marks subject number and person. The absence of Finite in imperative clauses is explained by the fact that such clause types do not specify temporal reference to the speech event. The imperative

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Alice Caffarel

Table 2.7 Examples of imperative mood options: commands (exclusive) and suggestions (inclusive) imperative mood option inclusive exclusive: singular: informal exclusive: singular: formal exclusive: plural

example Parlons! Parle! Parlez, monsieur! Parlez, messieurs!

English translation “Let’s speak!” “Speak!” “Speak, Sir!” “Speak, Sirs!”

system represented in Figure 2.4 above distinguishes between the ‘exclusive’ and the ‘inclusive’. The former is oriented towards the addressee(s), held responsible for complying, whilst the latter is oriented towards both the speaker and addressee. As the realization statements show, it is the person and number marking on the verb in the Predicator that is critical for the realization of imperative mood options. Table 2.7 gives some examples. Following this overview of the mood options specific to French and their realizations, I will now explore how exchanges are constructed in French dialogic texts.

... Exploring the negotiation process in French exchanges As far as the modal structure of the French clause is concerned, we have seen in the preceding section that the Predicator is critical both in the imperative and indicative mood. It is the absence of Finite in the imperative that differentiates it from the indicative mood. In dialogues, negotiating the resolution of the exchange involves the replaying or ellipsis of the interpersonal functions of Subject, Finite and Predicator. As a general rule, these three functions are crucial both to the negotiation process in French and to the realization of indicative mood options (see Caffarel 1995/1997). In view of this, I have referred to the part of the clause which is comprised of these three functions as the Negotiator of the clause. Example (41) summarizes the structural relation between the Negotiator and the three functions which comprise it. (41)

Ses cousins sont partis his cousins be-3pl leave-past Subject Finite Predicator Negotiator “his cousins have left.”

The overall modal structure of French consists of the Negotiator and what I refer to as the Remainder, which comprises Complements and circumstantial Adjuncts, as shown in example (42) below.


(42)

J’ ai commencé I have-1sg start-past Subject Finite Predicator Negotiator “I started my thesis in August.”

ma thèse en aôut. my thesis in August Complement Adjunct Remainder

In example (42), the nominal group ma thèse (realizing the element Complement) and the prepositional phrase en août form the Remainder of the clause. Thus, three categories of interpersonal functions can be identified in the French clause: (i) those which enter into the Negotiator, e.g. Subject, Finite, Predicator, clitics, modal and negative Adjuncts; (ii) those which enter in the Remainder, namely non-clitic Complement(s) and/or Adjunct(s); and (iii) functions which are peripheral to both the Negotiator and the Remainder, e.g. Mood interrogator (as shown in example (43)). Although clearly a part of the interpersonal organization of the French clause, the Mood interrogator falls outside the modal structure: certainly, M-inter is associated with the presence of the option interrogative, but it is by no means crucial to the realization of that option, since the rising tone is by itself sufficient for the purpose. The Negotiator and the Remainder are the components most crucial to negotiation in speech exchange, around which the exchange evolves. The textual progression of the dialogue is partly constructed by both or either the ellipis of the Negotiator and Remainder. (43)

Est-ce que tu aimes you like M-inter Subject Finite/Predicator Negotiator “Do you like papa?”

papa? papa Complement Remainder

... Text illustration of interpersonal clause grammar Let us now consider some text examples. Text 2.1 (Gary 1956: 7–8) A

(1) N’ oublie pas [[de changer les broussailles]] tous les jours. neg forget neg to change the scrub every day Adj Pred’or Adj Complement Adjunct Negotiator Remainder “Do not forget to change the scrub every day.”

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Alice Caffarel

B

(2) Je n’ oublierai pas. I neg forget-fut neg Subject Adjunct Finite/Predicator Adjunct Negotiator “I will not forget/I won’t.”

A

(3) Surtout n’ en parle jamais à personne. above-all neg of-it speak never to nobody Adj Adj Adj Fin/Pred Adj Comp Negotiator Remainder “Above all don’t speak to anybody about it.”

B

(4) Je n’ en parlerai pas. I neg of-it speak-fut neg Subject Adj Adj Finite/Predicator Adj Negotiator “I will not speak about it/I won’t.”

The exchange in Text 2.1 further illustrates that the prosodic mode of expression is not restricted to mood selections, but expands to interpersonal resources in general. The examples in this exchange illustrate that negative polarity is realized as a prosody ne ... pas or ne ... jamais. The fact that interpersonal prosodies other than tone (which indicates mood) have the Negotiator as their domain of realization further supports the interpretation of this element as interpersonally salient. Modal prosodies are also found within the Negotiator. And as we saw in Section 2.2.2.1, modality can also be expressed repeatedly in the Negotiator, as shown in example (44) below, where it is expressed first by the modal verb, pouvoir, second in the Finite (pourrais) and third by the modal Adjunct, certainement. (44)

Je ne pourrais certainement pas le voir. I neg can-cond certainly neg it see S Adj Finite:mod. Adjunct: modal Adj Comp Pred Negotiator “I certainly couldn’t see it.”

Text 2.2 (Mallet-Joris 1970) Alberte (1) Et on leur en a donné? and they to-them of-it have-3pl give-past Subject Adjunct Adj Finite Predicator “And did they give any of it [work] to them?”


Vincent (2) Je ne crois pas. I neg think neg Subject Adj Finite/Predicator Adj “I don’t think so.” Pauline (3) Alors ils ont fait la révolution. then they be-3pl make-past the revolution Subj Finite Predicator Complement “Then, did they have a revolution?” Moi

(4) Non. Pas pour le moment. no neg for the moment Adj Adj “No. Not for the moment.”

Pauline (5) Mais ils vont la faire, hein? but they go-3pl it make int Subject Finite Comp Predicator “But they are going to have one, aren’t they?” Moi

(6) Je ne sais pas. I neg know neg Subject Adj Finite/Predicator Adj “I don’t know.”

Text 2.3 A

(1) Un jour quand je serai vieille [. . . ] je voudrais écrire un immense livre . . . “One day when I am old I would like to write an immense book . . . ”

B

(2) Pourquoi ne le fais -tu pas? why neg it do you neg Qu/Adj Adj Comp F/P Subject Adj “Why don’t you do it?”

A

(3) Ce ne serait pas convenable. it neg would neg fitting Subject Adj Finite Adj Complement “It wouldn’t be fitting.”

B

(4) Tu n’ oses pas? you neg dare neg Subject Adj Finite/Predicator Adj “You do not dare.”

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Alice Caffarel

A

(5) Je n’ ose pas. I neg dare neg Subject Adj Finite/Predicator Adj “I do not dare.”

The exchanges in Texts 2.2 and 2.3 illustrate the function of clitics in French dialogic texts, which in Caffarel (1995) I interpret as being part of the Negotiator on the grounds that participants realized as clitics are given and recoverable and can be tossed back and forth during the negotiation. Once Complements and some Adjuncts are cliticized to the verbal group they become part of the Negotiator. Thus, in addition to the Subject, Finite, Predicator, negative clitic, negative Adjunct, and modal Adjunct functions, the Negotiator can comprise clitics (Complements and some circumstantial Adjuncts of location or matter). In Text 2.2, move (1) above, both Complements are cliticized and thus serve as part of the Negotiator. Although structurally different from the modal structure of English, the Negotiator-Remainder structure of French is analogous to the Mood-Residue structure of English from a functional viewpoint. Whilst English exchanges are typically carried forward by means of adjustment within the Mood element, i.e. the Subject + Finite, French exchanges revolve around the Negotiator, i.e. Subject + Finite + Predicator. Moves consisting of just Finite and Subject are not possible in French. “One cannot answer je l’ai (I have) to the question est-ce que vous l’avez vu? (have you seen it)” (Spence 1976) – rather, one must answer je l’ai vu (“I have seen it”). In French, the arguability status of a proposition depends on the Subject, Finite and Predicator functions, whilst in English it rests on the Subject and Finite alone. The resources that make the clause arguable, i.e. polarity and modality are realized within the Negotiator in French, and within the Mood element in English. In French, negative polarity is realized as the prosody ne ... pas, or ne ... jamais, or ne ... rien, which surrounds the Finite, or both Finite and Predicator when the two are conflated. Modality may be realized in different ways: (1) as an Adjunct that typically follows the Finite or Finite/Predicator; (2) in the Finite; (3) in the Predicator; or (4) all three preceding means of realization might co-occur. In an imperative clause which is non-finite, negative polarity is realized in the Predicator, as in ne pleure pas, while in English imperative Negation is realized in the Finite, as in don’t cry. Another point of divergence between the two languages concerns the use of order as specific means of realization. In English, the more delicate options of the indicative are realized by the “order of Subject and Finite, which is significant in realizing mood features” (Halliday 1985: Chapter 4). In French, the means employed primarily are the presence or absence of mood particle and/or intonation. However, looking at structure from a more abstract point of view, both languages are


alike: both languages realize mood selections prosodically, which appears to be a feature common across languages.

.. transitivity With regard to the experiential metafunction, we can assume that all languages have resources for representing our experience of the world around us and inside us as processes, participants and circumstances which will be differentiated in the grammar of transitivity by different systems of process-participant interaction. We can also assume that experience will be represented segmentally crosslinguistically. Halliday (1985: 149) suggests that “probably all transitivity systems, in all languages, are some blend of ... two semantic models of processes, the transitive and the ergative”; these models are then related in the grammar of English to the process type and agency systems, respectively, in Matthiessen (1995: 206): The root of the grammar of the nuclear transitivity of processes and participants are two simultaneous systems, AGENCY and PROCESS TYPE. They reflect two models of transitivity. (i) The first is highly generalized and cuts across the various process types. It is concerned with the variable of external cause or not (i.e. external to the combination of Process + Medium) – effective or middle. This is the ergative model. . . (ii) The second is process-type specific; the traditional representative is the material clause: the basic question is whether the combination of Actor + Process extends (transcends to another participant (Goal) or not. This is the transitive model.

As illustrated in Section 2.2.2.2, the Halliday-Matthiessen hypothesis about transitivity can be applied to French. We will first explore the process type system, which reflects the transitive model, in Section 2.3.2.1, and then the agency system, which reflects the ergative model, in Section 2.3.2.2. The system network in Figure 2.5 on page 101 is a general representation of French experiential clause grammar. It shows that when a clause makes experiential choices, it selects from three simultaneous systems: the agency and process type systems (which together form nuclear transitivity) and the circumstance type system (which forms circumstantial transitivity). (See Matthiessen 1995: 205–206.) The different domains of experience differentiated by the French process type system, such as doing-&-happening, sensing-&-saying and being&-having, are based on covert evidence, which is discussed in Sections 2.3.2.1.1, 2.3.2.1.2 and 2.3.2.1.3. The French process type system distinguishes between

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three main domains of experience: doing, projecting and being. On the other hand, the agency system distinguishes between phenomena that are brought about (effective) or not (middle) by some cause external to the Process + Medium nucleus. This is discussed in Section 2.3.2.2.

... The process type system .... The ‘doing’ potential ‘Doing’ processes cover (i) material processes, (ii) behavioural processes (i.e. physiological phenomena such as éternuer “to sneeze”, and mental and verbal actions such as regarder “to watch” and bavarder “to chat”, and (iii) meteorological processes such as pleuvoir “to rain”. Doing clauses can be probed with the general processes faire “do” or arriver “happen”. Behavioural processes, such as regarder in je regarde la télévision (“I am watching the television”) represents a mental action. This mental activity can be probed with faire: Qu’est-ce qu’il fait? Il regarde la télévision (“What is he doing? He is watching the television”) but cannot quote direct or indirect speech or thought or have a metaphenomenal participant (e.g. a fact) associated with it, as mental clauses can. Thus, one cannot say: *je regarde que Pierre arrive (“I am watching that Pierre is arriving”) but can say je vois que Pierre arrive (“I see that Pierre is arriving”). Accordingly, behavioural processes are interpreted here as a subtype of ‘doing’ processes rather than of ‘projecting’ processes. i.

Material clauses

Material processes represent the major type of doing processes. This is determined on the basis that they are not restricted in agency, that is, they can be either middle or effective, in contrast with behavioural and meteorological processes, which can only be middle. This is because behavioural and meteorological processes represent Table 2.8 Examples of effective and middle material clauses effective clause Pierre essuie Pierre wipes Actor Process “Pierre wipes the piano.” Pierre fait Pierre makes Actor Process “Pierre makes a cake.” Pierre écrase Pierre squashes Actor Process “Pierre squashes a snail.”

le piano. the piano Goal un gâteau. a cake Goal un escargot a snail Goal

middle: ranged clause Pierre fait Pierre does Actor Process “Pierre plays piano.” Pierre prend Pierre take Actor Process “Pierre takes a shower.” Pierre fait Pierre does Actor Process “Pierre washes the dishes.”

du piano. some piano Range une douche. a shower Range la vaisselle the dishes Range

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French î

AGENCY

ê ê ê PROCESS TYPE

clause

projecting

verbal mental

doing

behavioural material

being

existential relational

î

í

î

effective middle

CIRCUMSTANCE í TYPE

ê

î

location no-location cause no-cause concession no-concession condition no-condition accompaniment no-accompaniment manner no-manner matter no-matter

Figure 2.5 The core transitivity options

happenings rather than doings. In addition, material processes are realized by a fairly extended set of verbs, whereas both behavioural and meteorological processes are realized by a restricted set of verbs. Furthermore, material processes can have a second participant: a Goal in effective clauses or a Range in middle clauses. The Goal is either affected or created by the Actor-Process nucleus, while the range is an extension or elaboration of the process. Examples of middle and effective material clauses are given in Table 2.8 above. A basic systemic representation of the grammar of ‘doing’ processes is set out in Figure 2.6. The system network reads as follows: one may choose between three types of ‘doing’ processes: material, behavioural or meteorological. If the option ‘material’ is chosen, then the clause may be either ‘middle’ or ‘effective’. If the option ‘middle’ is chosen, then one may chose between ‘ranged’ or ‘non-ranged’.

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doing

middle material effective behavioural meteorological

ranged Range non-ranged

Figure 2.6 A systemic display of some of the less delicate material options

ii. Behavioural clauses Behavioural clauses represent physiological processes as well as mental or verbal actions. They differ from mental and verbal processes in that they cannot project, but are similar to mental ones in that their one participant is always endowed with consciousness. ‘behavioural: physiological’ (45)

Yannick a éternué. Yannick have-3sg sneeze-past+3sg Behaver/Medium Process “Yannick sneezed.”

‘behavioural: verbal action’ (46)

Rémi parle sans arrêt. Rémi speak-3sg non-stop Behaver/Medium Process Manner “Rémi speaks non-stop.”

‘behavioural: mental action’ (47)

Louis écoute la radio. Louis listen-3sg the radio Behaver/Medium Process Range “Louis is listening to the radio.”

iii. Meteorological clauses Meteorological grammar in the field of doing is realized by conflating Medium and Process. The element il (“it”) is not a participant (i.e. it is not representational). Other Romance languages, like Italian, make this explicit by construing our experience of the weather as Process alone – the “dummy” Subject is not overt – as in piove (“it rains”, il pleut).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French 

‘metereological’ (48)

Il vente. it wind-blow-3sg Process/Medium “It is windy.”

.... The ‘projecting’ potential Projecting clauses include mental clauses (internal semiosis) and verbal clauses (external semiosis). Projecting clauses (as their name implies) may project. The projection may be done “paratactically”, by quoting, or “hypotactically”, by reporting. This characteristic of mental and verbal processes is one of the criteria that sets them apart from all other process types. This is illustrated with example (49b) which projects (49a) paratactically (from Henri Thomas’s The Offensive (1966)): (49) a.

“Ils n’ ont qu’ une trentaine de canons, en face,” they only . . . have . . . only thirty guns over there Carrier Proc: rel: poss Attribute Place “ “They only have thirty guns over there”,”

‘verbal: projecting: quote’ (49) b.

dit Fremigacci. said Fremigacci Proc: verbal Sayer “said Fremigacci.”

Verbal clauses, like mental clauses, need not always project, but they have the potential to do so. While mental clauses project ideas, verbal clauses project locutions (referred as “direct” and “indirect” speech in traditional grammars). If they do not project a locution, verbal clauses are ranged (i.e. they have a participant which specifies the name of the verbalization – a Verbiage, as in example (50), which also shows that verbal clauses may have an additional participant, the Receiver (i.e. the beneficiary of the verbalization)). (50)

Il a demandé un renseignement à son voisin. he asked advice to his neighbour Sayer Proc: verbal Verbiage Receiver “He asked his neighbour for advice.”

In example (51a) below, the phenomenon is a downranked non-finite clause Unlike clauses reporting an idea or a locution, embedded clauses function as participants. As such they can be thematized, as shown in (51b).

 Alice Caffarel

(51) a.

b.

Il aurait tellement aimé [[rester avec eux]]. he have-cond+3sg so much like-past [[to stay with them]] Senser Process: mental: emotive: middle Phen: macro “He would so much have loved to stay with them.” Rester avec eux, il l’ aurait tellement aimé. To stay with he this have-cond+3sg so much likethem past Senser Phen Process: mental: emotive: middle Theme Rheme “To stay with them, he would have really liked.”

Example (51) illustrates another characteristic of mental clauses which concerns the nature of the Phenomenon. While the item serving as Phenomenon can be phenomenal (i.e. a thing), as are participants in material clauses, it can also be macro-phenomenal (a non-finite clause) as in (51) or meta-phenomenal (a fact or projected idea). Example (52) illustrates a phenomenon as fact: (52)

Il he

s’ inquiétait du fait [[que son coeur battait trop vite]]. refl worry- by the fact [[that his heart was beating too fast]] +3sg past.impf Senser Proc: mental Phenomenon: fact “He was worried by the fact that his heart was beating too fast.”

The metaphenomenon in (52) also functions as a participant and as such can be thematized as in example (53): (53)

Le fait [[que son coeur battait trop vite]] l’ inquiétait. the fact [[that his heart was beating too fast]] him worry-past.impf Phenomenon Senser Process “The fact that his heart was beating too fast worried him.”

Examples (52) and (53) illustrate another characteristic of mental clauses, and in particular of emotive mental clauses: the fact that they can be bidirectional. More precisely, the sensing is construed either as the Senser having an emotion “ranging” over the phenomenon as in (52) or as the Phenomenon causing the emotion as in (53). Emotive clauses that construe the sensing from Senser to Phenomenon are middle, while clauses that construe the sensing from Phenomenon to Senser are effective. An additional characteristic of mental processes concerns the nature of the Senser, which (unlike the Actor of material clause) must always be endowed with consciousness. If a normally non-conscious thing is construed as Senser, it is personified. The Sayer of a verbal clause, in contrast, can sometimes be a nonconscious participant, as le journal “the newspaper” is in example (54):

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French 

(54)

Le journal rapporte || que les affaires de Bond vont mal. The newspaper reports that Bond’s businesses are not going well.

However, in such cases, the Sayer typically stands in a metonymic relation with a conscious being, in this case the journalist. The system network of French projecting processes is represented in Figure 2.7. The system network reads as follows: one may choose between two types of ‘projecting’ processes, mental or verbal. If the option ‘mental’ is chosen, then we enter simultaneous systems: we must choose both the type of mental process – ‘perceptive’, ‘emotive’, ‘cognitive’ or ‘intentional’ – and between having or not having a phenomenon. If the feature ‘phenomenalization’ is chosen, then we may select either the option ‘hyperphenomenal’ or the option ‘phenomenal’, and so on. If the option ‘verbal’ is chosen, we also enter simultaneous systems: we must choose between ‘no verbalization’ and ‘verbalization’, as well as between ‘addressee’ or no ‘addressee’. If ‘verbalization’ is chosen, then we may either verbalize it as ‘name’ or ‘locution’. Having overviewed the grammar of ‘projecting’ processes, I will now turn to the grammar of ‘being’ processes.

î

ê ê

mental í

î

non-phenomenalization macrophenomenal metaphenomenal

phenomenalization phenomenal perceptive cognitive emotive intentional

projecting

î

ê ê î

verbal í

idea

hyperphenomenal

non-verbalization verbalization addresse + Receiver

as name + Verbiage as locution

no-addresse

Figure 2.7 A systemic representation of projecting processes

fact

 Alice Caffarel

.... The ‘being’ potential ‘Being’ processes represent (i) a relation between two participants (relational processes), through identification (as Token and Value) or attribution (as Carrier and Attribute); or (ii) the existence of one participant (existential processes). ‘Being’ processes cannot be probed by faire and cannot project. Another criterion that separates being clauses from doing and projecting one is their unmarked past tense. Being clauses typically select for the ‘imperfect past’ while ‘doing’ and ‘projecting’ clauses select for the ‘simple past’ or ‘compound past’ (see Caffarel 1992, on tense). What distinguishes simple past and compound past from imperfect past is aspect. The imperfect presents the situation from within, “since it can both look backwards towards the start of the situation, and look forwards to the end of the situation” (Comrie 1976: 4), while the simple past and compound past present the situation from the outside. While relations are typically extended in time (thus still being processes, unfolding in time, and contrasting with participants, which are construed as permanent in time), actions and thoughts are typically transient, which explains their respective choice of unmarked past tense as shown in the examples below: ‘being: relational: attributive/intensive’; imperfect past tense (55)

Son manteau était d’une étoffe mince. her coat be-past.impf of a thin material Carrier/Medium Process Attribute/Range “Her coat was of a thin material.”

‘doing: behavioural’; simple past tense (56)

i.

Il parla et dansa pendant des heures. he speak-past and dance-past for hours Behaver/Medium Process: behavioural Time “He spoke and danced for hours.”

Relational clauses

While in existential clauses there is only one part to the “being”, “in relational clauses there are two parts to the “being”: something is being said to “be” something else. In other words, a relation is being set up between two separate entities” (Halliday 1994). The French relational system consists of two main types of relational clause, identifying and attributive. In an identifying clause, a Value is assigned to a Token or a Token is assigned to a Value. The two functions, Token and Value, can be reversed in the clause. In contrast, the functions of an attributive clause, Carrier and Attribute, cannot be reversed: an Attribute is assigned to a Carrier, but a Carrier cannot be assigned to an Attribute. An attributive clause may be either intensive or

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French 

non-intensive. Intensive attribute clauses serve to ascribe a quality to a participant, as in example (57): (57)

Cet homme est charmant. this man is charming Carrier Process Attribute “This man is charming.”

The non-intensive system offers the choice between circumstantial and possessive attributes. While in English, the possessive type of relation cross-classifies attributive and identifying clauses, in French possessives can only be of the attributive type and the possessor Attribute is realized as a prepositional phrase, as are the circumstantial attributes. Compare the examples from English (taken from Halliday 1994) and their French translations in Table 2.9. Identifying clauses are differentiated from attributive clauses by the fact that they can be reversed, i.e. either the Token or the Value may conflate with the Subject. In contrast, the Attribute of an attributive clause cannot function as Subject. In French, possession can only be realized as an attributive type, either as a participant as in Le piano est à Pierre (see Table 2.9), as a possessive process as in Pierre possède un piano (see Table 2.9), or both, as in example (58) below: ‘being: relational: possessive/attributive’ (58)

Le piano appartient à Pierre. the piano belongs to Pierre. Carrier/Medium Proc: poss/att Attribute/Beneficiary “The piano belongs to Pierre.”

Note that the clause un piano est possédé par Pierre (see Table 2.9) does not mean that a piano belongs to Pierre, but that a piano is possessed by Pierre, and thus expresses some kind of supernatural phenomenon. Table 2.9 A comparison of French and English possessive clauses English The piano Token/ possessed Peter’s Value Peter Token The piano Value

is Peter’s Proc: int/ Value/ ident (active) possessor is (passive) owns Proc: poss/ ident (active) is owned by (passive)

the piano Token the piano Value Peter Token

French Le piano Carrier/ Medium: possessed *À Peter Pierre Carrier *Un piano

est à Pierre Proc: int/ att Attribute/ Beneficiary: possessor est le piano possède Proc: poss/ att est possédé

un piano Attribute par Pierre

 Alice Caffarel

Circumstantial attributive clauses are similar to possessive attributive clauses in that they can have the Attribute as Circumstance as in Jean est à Paris (“Jean is in Paris”), or the Process as circumstance as in example (59): (59)

La fête a duré toute la journée the party have-3sg last-past all day Carrier Proc: attributive/circumstantial Attribute “The party lasted all day.”

The systemic representation of French ‘being’ clauses is schematized in Figure 2.8; the following examples show a realization for each of the five types of relational processes. ‘being: relational: identifying/intensive’ (60)

Paris est la capitale de la France. Paris is the capital of France Token Process Value “Paris is the capital of France.”

‘being: relational: identifying/non-intensive’ (61)

La fête de la Bastille est le 14 juillet. tomorrow i s the 14th July Token/Circumstance Process Value/Circumstance “Bastille day is the 14th July.”

‘being: relational: attributive/intensive’ (62)

Jean est grand. Jean is tall Carrier Process Attribute “Jean is tall.”

‘being: relational: identifying/extensive: circumstantial’ (63)

Jean est à Paris. Jean is in Paris Carrier Process Attribute/Circumstance “Jean is in Paris.”

‘being: relational: attributive/extensive: possessive’ (64)

Jean a un piano. Jean has a piano Carrier Process Attribute/Possessed “Jean has a piano.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French  presentative no Process

existential

stative Process

î

ê ê î

relational í

intensive extensive attributive

î

being

ê

í êî

circumstantial possessive

identifying

Figure 2.8 A systemic representation of French relational processes

ii. Existential clauses As was mentioned above, existential clauses (in contrast with other ‘being’ clauses) are always middle. The sole participant, the Existent, conflates with the Medium. Such clause types don’t necessarily have a process, but simply what is traditionally called a presentative, i.e. an item which presents the existent. Such an item will be referred to here as an existential particle. (65)

Voici un escargot. here-ex a snail Existential particle Existent “Here is a snail.”

(66)

Soit un triangle ABC. ex a triangle ABC Existential particle Existent “Let ABC be a triangle.”

(67)

Il y a du brouillard. there-ex have-3sg some fog Existential particle Process Existent “There is a fog.”

On the basis that clauses like examples (65) and (66) do not have any process, we could argue that such clause types are minor, and as such should not be interpreted as part of the system of the major clause. However, many languages do not have copular verbs. Furthermore, from an interpersonal viewpoint, clauses such as (65) and (66) do not perform minor speech functions such as exclamations, calls or greetings, but participate in an exchange as propositions, either as a response statement accompanying an action, or as an initiating statement. Accordingly, such

 Alice Caffarel

Table 2.10 Criteria for distinguishing process types

clause types whose function is to “announce” a new participant will be interpreted as a subtype of existential clauses. Verbless existential clauses will be referred to as ‘presentative’ while existential clauses with a verb will be referred to as ‘stative’. These systemic options are shown on the network of ‘being’ processes in Figure 2.8. A summary of the criteria that distinguish the major subtypes of doing, projecting and being processes, i.e. material, mental and relational processes, is shown in Table 2.10. Having given an overview of the process type system, I will now turn to its complementary transitivity system agency, and illustrate the generalizing property of the latter.

... agency: an ergative perspective In French, the Agent function is not restricted to doing clauses of the material type but is also to be found in projecting clauses of the mental type and being clauses of the relational type. On the other hand, process types such as behavioural, verbal and existential processes appear to be restricted in agency and as such are interpreted as minor process types as opposed to material, mental and relational. In Figure 2.9 below the major process types are in bold. The interaction of each major process type with the agency system is illustrated in Sections 2.3.2.2.1, 2.3.2.2.2 and 2.3.2.2.3 below. .... Material agency The interaction between the material processes and the agency system is illustrated in Table 2.11 on page 112 below. The table shows that middle material clauses may be reflexive or non-reflexive and that effective material clauses may be synthetic or analytic. It was mentioned in Section 2.2.2.2 that the reflexive pronoun se-clitic (s’) in French is one of the resource for construing a middle clause, and in particular for turning processes who traditionally are re-


î

clause

ê ê

middle

non-reflexive synthetic

AGENCY effective

analytic +faire

í

PROCESS î TYPE

reflexive + se clitic; Aux être

material doing

behavioural non-material

projecting

mental

meteorological

verbal relational being existential

Figure 2.9 A partial systemic representation of the French transitivity potential

ferred to as transitive processes into intransitive processes, such as ouvrir (to open), for example. The paradigm of clauses outlined in Table 2.11 on page 112 defines the following grammatical proportionalities: as la porte s’ouvre is to Pierre ouvre la porte, so la pierre tombe is to Claire fait tomber la pierre. (See Matthiessen 1995, on paradigms and proportionalities.)

... Mental Agency As we saw in Section 2.3.2.1.2, one characteristic of mental processes of emotion is their bidirectionality. The process may been coded from consciousness to phenomenon, as in example (68), in which case they are ‘middle’, or from phenomenon to consciousness, as in example (69), in which case they are ‘effective’ and the Phenomenon functions as Agent rather than as Range, as in the following examples: (68)

J’ aime la musique. I like-1sg music Medium/Senser Proc: mental Range/Phenomenon “I like music.”

(69)

Cette musique me plaît. this music me please-3sg Agent/Phenomenon Senser/Medium Proc: mental “This music pleases me.”





Alice Caffarel

Table 2.11 Instantiations of the agency system in the context of material clauses middle

effective

(70)

reflexive La porte s’ ouvre. the door refl-3sg open-3sg Medium Process “The door opens.” Pierre ouvre la porte. Pierre open-3sg the door Agent Process Medium “Pierre opens the door.” synthetic

non-reflexive La pierre tombe. the stone fall-3sg Medium Process “The stone is falling.” Claire fait tomber la pierre. Claire make-3sg to fall the stone Agent Process Medium “Claire makes the stone fall.” analytic

Cette musique le passione. this music him fascinate-3sg Agent/Phenomenon Senser/Medium Proc: mental “This music fascinates him.”

What is interesting in French is that the ‘please’ type mental clause can also be middle, in which case the Phenomenon functions as Range and late News. In such a mental type clause the Range element takes a preposition, as in example (71). Halliday (1985: 149) points out: the choice of ‘plus or minus a preposition’ with Agent, Beneficiary and Range is not just random variation; it serves a textual function ... The principle [in English] is as follows. If a participant other than the Medium is in a place of prominence [marked Theme or late News] in the message, it tends to take a preposition; otherwise it does not.

(71)

Il se passione de musique. he refl+3sg fascinate-3sg of music Medium/Senser Process: mental Range/Phenomenon “He is fascinated by music

The Phenomenon/Range may also be absent, as in example (72): (72)

Il s’ ennuie. he refl+3sg bore-3sg Medium/Senser Process: mental “He is bored.”

As example (72) shows, mental middle clauses may have a reflexive verbal group just like material clauses. Thus, the agency system as presented in Figure 2.9 can be generalized to mental processes, with the exception of the feature ‘analytic’ for effective clauses, which is a consequence of the nature of mental processes. Examples of mental clauses are presented in Table 2.12 below.


Table 2.12 Agency and mental processes middle

reflexive Il s’ he refl+3sg Medium Process “He is bored.” La musique music Agent “Music fascinates him.”

effective

ennuie. bore-3sg

le him Process

non-reflexive Il aime la musique. he like-3sg music Medium Process Range “He likes music.” passionne. fascinate-3sg Medium

In contrast to mental clauses, verbal clauses tend to always be middle. However, in rare contexts, the realization of effective verbal clauses is made possible by means of the causative process faire, as in example (73). (73)

Il

m’

a

fait

dire

des choses [[que je ne voulais pas dire]]. he refl + have- make- to say some things [[that I did 1sg 3sg past not want to say]] Agent Medium Process: verbal Range/Verbiage “He made me say things that I did not want to say.”

.... Relational Agency In attributive relational clauses, the Agent corresponds to the transitive function of Attributor. Relational processes involving a change such as changer and transformer are often used with an Agent, as in the following examples: (74)

La fée a changé le carrosse en citrouille. the fairy have-3sg change-past the pumpkin into a carriage Agent/Attributor Process Med/Carrier Range/Att “The fairy changed the pumpkin into a carriage.”

(75)

Le feu a transformé la glace en eau. fire have-3sg turn-past the ice into water Agent/Attributor Process Med/Carrier Range/Attr “The fire turned the ice into water.”

Both the above clauses can be made middle with a reflexive verbal group: (76)

Le carrosse s’ est changé en citrouille. the pumpkin refl+3sg be-3sg change-past into a carriage Med/Carrier Process Range/Attr “The pumpkin changed into a carriage.”





Alice Caffarel

Table 2.13 Agency and relational attributive processes middle effective

(77)

reflexive Le carrosse s’est changé en citrouille. La fée a changé le carrosse en citrouille.

non-reflexive Le carrosse est rond.

La glace s’ est transformée en eau. the ice refl+3sg be-3sg turn-past into water Med/Carrier Process Range/Attr “The ice turned into water.”

Identifying clauses may also be middle or effective. Middle naming clauses have a reflexive verbal group: (78)

Elle s’ appelle Marie. she refl+3sg call-3sg Marie Medium/Value Process Range/Token “She is called Marie.”

(79)

Sa mère l’ a appellée Marie. her mother her have-3sg call-past Marie Agent/Assigner Medium/Value Process Range/Token “Her mother called her Marie.”

(80)

Ce livre s’ intitule “L’homme de paroles”. this book refl+3sg entitle-3sg “L’homme de paroles” Medium/Value Process Range/Token “This book is entitled “L’homme de paroles”.”

(81)

Claude Hagège a

(82)

Mitterand est le président de la France. Mitterand is the president of France Medium/Token Process Range/Value “Mitterand is the president of France.”

(83)

Les Français ont élu Mitterand président. the French have-3pl elect-past Mitterand president Agent/Assigner Process Med/Value Range/Token “The French elected Mitterand president.”

intitulé

son livre

“L’homme de paroles”. Claude Hagège have-3sg entitle-past his book “L’homme de paroles” Agent/Assigner Process Medium/Value Range/Token “Claude Hagège entitled his book “L’homme de paroles”.”


Table 2.14 Agency across process types middle effective

doing La porte s’ouvre. “The door opens.” Il ouvre la porte. “He opens the door.”

projecting Il s’ennuie. “He is bored.” La musique l’ennuie. “Music bores him.”

being Elle s’appelle Marie. “She is called Marie.” Sa mère l’appelle Marie. “Her mother calls her Marie.”

Table Table 2.14 below illustrates the complementarity of the two systems process type and agency. It is interesting to note the use of the se-clitic as a marker of middle clauses across clause types. Lexical patterns can give clues about the grammatical systems: here, the prominence of ergative patterns in French verbs (lexical end of the cline of delicacy), where a verb can be used in an effective clause and a middle clause through the affixation of the se-clitic point to an ergative system in the grammar of transitivity (grammatical end of the cline of delicacy).

.. Text illustration of experiential clause grammar Following this overview of the French experiential clause grammar potential and of its realization in structure, I will now explore instantial patterns of transitivity in a manifesto, a text of the persuasive type, whereby the writer is trying to convince the reader to do something: Text 2.4: Pour que la terre ne meure pas! “So that the Earth doesn’t die!” (Manifeste de l’association ‘Terre vivante’) (“Manifesto of the association ‘Living Earth”’) (1)

Les ressources de la Terre s’ épuisent. the resources of the Earth refl-3pl run-out-3pl Medium/Actor Process: material & middle “The Earth’s resources are running out.”

(2)

L’atmosphère perd son ozone. the atmosphere lose-3sg its ozone Medium/Actor Process: mat & mid: ranged Range “The atmosphere is losing its ozone.”

(3)

Les gens brûlent les forêts the people burn-3pl the forests Agent/Actor Process: material & effective Medium/Goal “The people are burning the forests,”





Alice Caffarel

a.

et les détruisent avec les gaz de leurs voitures. and them destroy-3pl with the fumes from their cars Medium/Goal Proc: mat & effective Means “and are destroying them with the fumes from their cars.”

(4)

Les industriels polluent

avec leur produits toxiques. the industries pollute-3pl the earth, the air and the with their toxic water products Actor/Agent Proc: mat & eff Medium/Goal Means “Industries are polluting the earth, the air and the water with their toxic products.”

(5)

Les militaires stockent les bombes atomiques. the armies stockpile-3pl the atomic bombs Agent/Actor Process: mat & effective Medium/Goal “Armies are stockpiling atomic bombs.”

(6)

Les savants

(7)

Notre planète est en danger mortel. our planet be-3sg in mortal danger Medium/Carrier Proc: relational: attributive Range/Attribute “Our planet is in mortal danger.”

(8)

Le danger devient plus grand de jour en jour! the danger become-3sg greater day by day Medium/Carrier Proc: rel: att Range/Attribute Circ: time “The danger grows day by day!”

de nouveaux moyens de destruction. the scientists invent-3pl constantly new means of destruction Agent/Actor Proc: mat & eff Manner: qual Medium/Goal “Scientists are constantly inventing new means of destruction.”

(9) a.

b.

inventent

la terre, l’air et l’eau

sans cesse

Pour que la Terre puisse nourrir nos enfants, so that the Earth might feed our children Agent/Actor Proc: mat & eff Medium/Carrier “So that the Earth may feed our children,” pour que son air soit respirable, so that its air be-3sg+subj breathable Medium/Carrier Proc: rel: att Range/Attribute “so that its air might be breathable,”


c.

d.

e.

f.

g.

pour que les arbres et les plantes ne meurent pas, so that the trees and the plants neg die-3pl neg Medium/Actor Process: material & middle “so that the trees and plants don’t die,” pour que cesse la pollution des usines, so that stop-3sg the pollution from the factories Proc: mat & middle Medium/Actor “so that the pollution from factories stops,” pour que les bombes atomiques ne détruisent pas notre planète, so that the atomic bombs neg destroy-3pl neg our planet Agent/Actor Process: mat & eff Medium/Goal “so that atomic bombs don’t destroy our planet,” pour que les savants n’ inventent que des moyens de mieux vivre, so that the scientists only . . . invent-3pl . . . only the means for better life Agent/Actor Process: material & effective Medium/Goal “so that scientists only invents the means for a better life,” il faut [[que vous vous informiez]]! it impers+mod+3sg that you inform yourselves Process Medium “you must inform yourselves!”

Table 2.15 Summary of transitivity choices in Text 2.4 Clause 1 2 3a 3b 4 5 6 7 8 9a 9b 9c 9d 9e 9f 9g

Agent

Process s’épuisent perd les gens brûlent [les gens] détruisent les industriels polluent les militaires stockent les savants inventent

la terre

les bombes atomiques les savants

Medium Les ressources de la terre L’atmosphère les forêts les la terre, l’air et l’eau les bombes atomiques de nouveaux moyens de destruction est Notre planète devient le danger puisse nourrir nos enfants soit son air ne meurent pas les arbres et les plantes cesse la pollution des usines ne détruisent pas notre planète n’inventent que il faut

des moyens de vivre mieux [[que vous vous informiez]]

Range son ozone

en danger mortel plus grand respirable





Alice Caffarel

Table 2.15 above summarises the transitivity choices in Text 2.4. In this particular text, which is about the destruction of the earth resources, the function of Agent is assigned essentially to human participants or man-made objects such as atomic bombs. The earth serves as Agent only once, in a modalized clause of probability. Otherwise the earth and its resources are represented as Medium, either Medium/Goal or Medium/Carrier. In other words, the earth is either represented as affected by humans or as a Carrier of particular attributes. The transitive model foregrounds the idea that the earth is affected by human actions, while the ergative model foregrounds that what is happening to the earth is engendered by humans.

.. theme From the point of view of SF theory, it is assumed that any major clause in any language realizes textual meaning, i.e. is organized as a message. The realization of textual organization may vary across languages, but at a more abstract level of realization it has been suggested that textual meaning creates waves of prominence and non-prominence in all languages. Although the SF notion of Theme is not constructed as a theoretical category, it has been found to be relevant for the descriptions of English, Tagalog, Chinese, Japanese, French and other languages. What has been shown to vary among those languages is the systemic organization of thematic options, as well as the specific realization of those options. Thus, in English, the realization of Theme is positional. It has been defined by Halliday (1985) as the “point of departure” or “starting point” of the message. In Japanese, on the other hand, Theme, more precisely ideational Theme, is realized by the postposition wa in free clauses, and by ga in bound clauses (Teruya, this volume). In Tagalog, Theme “is marked with the particle ang and typically appears in clause final position” (Martin 1983). In French we will see that Theme is also positional, but may occur both clause initially and clause finally in some registers. In languages where there is no overt Theme markers as in French and English, delimiting the Theme becomes an issue. Where does the Theme end? According to Halliday (1994), in English: . . . the Theme of a clause ends with the first constituent that is either participant, circumstance, or process. Since a participant in thematic function corresponds fairly closely to what is called the “topic” in a topic-comment analysis, we refer to the experiential element in the Theme as the TOPICAL THEME. (1994: 52) The Theme always includes one, and only one, experiential element. This may be preceded by elements which are textual and/or interpersonal in function; if


so, these are also part of the Theme. The typical ordering is textual ^ interpersonal ^ experiential; in any case, the experiential element (the topical Theme) comes last – anything following this is part of the Rheme. (1994: 53)

In French, I will suggest that a clause (i) may have multiple topical Themes and (ii) may have two layers of thematic organization, which involves the selection of a marked and an unmarked (topical) Theme.

... An overview of French theme options In approaching the French clause from a textual viewpoint, I assume that the French clause as a piece of text (or message) is not organized randomly: its periodic organization serves to guide the speaker/listener through the unfolding text so that s/he can process the information constructed by the interpersonal and ideational meanings. In French, the Theme of a clause may be solely experiential, or metafunctionally diverse, that is, textual and/ or interpersonal and experiential, as in the examples below (from Vian 1972: 72): (84) a.

b.

Vraiment, c’ est une fille bizarre, really she is a strange girl interpersonal topical: unmarked Theme Rheme “Really, she is a strange girl,” mais, probablement toutes les filles ont des idées pas ordinaires. but probably all girls have funny ideas Theme: Theme: Theme: topical: Rheme textual interpersonal unmarked “but probably all girls have funny ideas.”

In example (84) each topical Theme is annotated with the feature ‘unmarked’. This is because in the French declarative clause, the Subject is more likely to have thematic status than the Complement or Adjunct. If a Complement or circumstantial Adjunct has thematic status, then it is interpreted as marked, as in: (85)

Hier, le capitaine est arrivé. yesterday the captain arrived Time Actor Process Theme: marked Rheme “Yesterday, the captain arrived.”

In other mood types, the unmarked Theme may not necessarily be the Subject. Thus, in the imperative mood, the unmarked Theme is the Predicator, while in



 Alice Caffarel

the interrogative mood, the unmarked Theme will vary depending on the type of interrogative (see Caffarel 1997). In examples (84) and (85), the elements serving as Theme also perform a function in the interpersonal or transitivity structure of the clause. In terms of their realization, they are all positioned initially. However, there are other Themes in French that do not map onto any transitivity or interpersonal functions. They are referred to as absolute, as shown in the preview. Absolute Themes may be positioned clause initially or finally (reprise absolute Theme). In writing, they are typically demarked from the transitivity/interpersonal structure of the clause by means of a comma, and in speech by tonic prominence realized as a falling tone. The type of thematic organization where the initial Theme is reinforced in final position by a reprise absolute Theme is characteristic of French spoken discourse, as illustrated by Text 2.5. Text 2.5 Viandox (Corpus Lombard 1986) A

(1) Elle faisait du pot-au-feu ta mère. she made stew your mother Theme: topical: unmarked Rheme reprise Theme “Your mother used to make stew.”

B

(2) Oui. yes

C

(3) Toujours elle a toujours fait du pot-au-feu ma mère. always she have-3sg always make-past stew my mother Theme: Theme: Rheme reprise interp. topical Theme “My mother has always made stew.”

A

(4) Bon well

C

(5) Comme ma femme elle le fait. like my wife she it makes Theme: topical: marked Rheme “Like my wife, she makes it.”

et and

comment elle faisait son pot-au-feu ta mère. how she made her stew your mother Theme: Theme: Theme: Th: Rheme reprise textual textual text./top. top Theme Well and how did she make her stew?

Typically, absolute Themes are conflated with new information and as such have a marked textual status. Marked peaks of prominence (i.e. both thematic ones and


those presented as new) can also occur at the beginning of the message as initial absolute Theme, as in examples (86) and (87) below: (86)

Ma mère elle a toujours fait du pot-au-feu. my mother she have-3sg always make-past stew absolute Rheme Theme “My mother always made stew.” (From Corpus LOMBARD 1986.)

(87)

La rose c’ est un belle fleur. the rose it is a beautiful flower absolute Theme Rheme “The rose is a beautiful flower.”

As suggested in Combettes (1975), examples such as (86) and (87) can be interpreted as having two layers of thematic structure as shown below: (88)

Ma mère elle a toujours fait du pot-au-feu. my mother she have-3sg always make-past stew absolute Rheme Theme Theme: unm. Rheme “My mother always made stew.”

(89)

La rose c’ est un belle fleur. the rose it is a beautiful flower absolute Theme Rheme Theme “The rose is a beautiful flower.”

as opposed to one layer of thematic structure: (90)

Ma mère elle a toujours fait du pot-au-feu. my mother she have-3sg always make-past stew absolute Theme: Rheme Theme unmarked “My mother always made stew.”

(91)

La rose c’ est un belle fleur. the rose it is a beautiful flower absolute Theme Theme: unmarked Rheme “The rose is a beautiful flower.”

Example (92) below could possibly be interpreted as having three layers of thematic structure following Halliday’s 1994 analysis of the thematic structure of clauses



 Alice Caffarel

with predicated Theme. However, as the textual semantic content of c’ “it” and qui “who” is rather weak, there is no discourse motivation for interpreting a third layer of thematic structure as follows: (92)

Ce livre c’ est Paul qui l’ a lu. this book it is Paul who it have-3sg read-past Theme Rheme Theme Rheme Theme Rheme Theme Rheme “It is Paul who read this book.”

Clause complexes of the hypotactic type where the dependent clause precedes the dominant clause can also be analysed as having a double-layered thematic structure, one at clause complex level, the other within each clause, as illustrated in example (93): (93)

Lorsque le réveil

sonna, il

n’

était pas encore cinq heures et demie. neg was neg yet half past five

when the alarm rang it Theme Rheme Theme: Theme: Rheme Theme: Rheme textual topical topical “When the alarm rang, it was not yet half past five.” (Taken from Claire Sainte-Soline 1972.) We have seen that Theme in French may be metafunctionally diverse; that is, it may include contributions from the textual, interpersonal and experiential metafunctions. This is represented paradigmatically by three simultaneous theme systems. We also saw that the thematic organization of a clause may be marked or unmarked. In a declarative clause, the unmarked Theme conflates with the Subject, while Themes that conflate with Adjuncts or Complements are interpreted as marked. It was also mentioned that they are two types of marked Theme, absolute and non-absolute. The paradigmatic organization of French Themes is set out in the next section.

... The French theme systems The system network in Figure 2.10 indicates that in any clause, one may choose to have a textual Theme or no textual Theme, an interpersonal Theme or no interpersonal Theme, and an ‘experiential’ Theme. This experiential Theme may be absolute or non-absolute. If non-absolute, it may be marked or unmarked. If unmarked, the Theme conflates with the Subject. If marked, it can be predicated or non-predicated. If non-predicated, it may either conflate with a Circumstance


î

clause simplex

ê ê

í

î

textual-theme Theme/Conjunctive no-textual-theme interpersonal-theme Theme/Adjunct: interpersonal no-interpersonal-theme absolute

non-absolute (topical)

clause-initial clause-final (reprise)

cohere-withtransitivity role cohere-withprevious-cotext

unmarked Theme/Subj

marked

predicated Theme= ce + être+ theme Rheme= qui+ rest non-predicated Theme/circumstance or participant other than Subject in declarative clause

Figure 2.10 French theme systems

or a participant other than Subject. In this account of French Theme, the notion of marked encompasses not only those Themes which conflate with a function other than Subject but also predicated Themes, whether Subject or not. Predicated Themes are marked in the sense that they serve to map the New element onto the Theme (see Halliday 1994: 59, on predicated Theme). Features and combinations of features from the system are illustrated in examples (94) to (101). When a clause comprises two potential layers of thematic structure, the two layers are analysed, as in (96) for example. ‘textual & unmarked topical’ (94)

Cependant, il arriva en retard. however he arrived late Theme: textual Theme: topical: unmarked Rheme “However, he arrived late.”

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 Alice Caffarel

‘textual & interpersonal & unmarked topical’ (95)

Et malheureusement il arriva en retard. and unfortunately he arrived late Theme: Theme: Th: top Rheme textual interpersonal unmarked “And, unfortunately, he arrived late.”

Layer 1: ‘marked topical’; Layer 2: unmarked topical (96)

En retard il arriva. late he arrived Theme: topical: marked Rheme Theme: topical: unmarked Rheme “Late he arrived.”

The primary layer of thematic structure is marked in relation to the secondary layer. The secondary layer is unmarked in the sense that it maps the transitivity structure onto the interpersonal structure and onto an unmarked textual structure. This is further exemplified by example (98), where both son enfant (“her child”) and cette mère (“this mother”) tell the listener what the message is about and at the same time carry contrastive meaning. The message is about her child and no other child and about this mother and no other mother. Within the inner layer of thematic structure, which map onto a transitivity and Negotiatory structure, we have a textual Theme followed by an unmarked Theme. The textual Theme relates the clause to the previous message through contrast, and the unmarked Theme, realized as a pronominal clitic, and hence Given and identifiable, indicates that the message is about a woman who has already been mentioned in the previous message. From an experiential viewpoint, the clitics within the inner layer serve to indicate the function of the participants foregrounded in the absolute Themes, a characteristic also found in Pitjatjantjara (see Rose, this volume). Layer 1: ‘marked topical: predicated’; Layer 2: ‘unmarked topical’ (97)

C’ est en retard qu’ it is late that Theme: topical: marked: predicated Theme Rheme “It is late that he arrived.”

il arriva. he arrived Rheme Theme Rheme


(98)

‘absolute Theme’ (99)

Moi ce tarif-là je ne l’ ai pas. me that rate I neg it have-1sg neg absolute absolute Rheme Theme 1 Theme 2 “I don’t have that rate.” (Example taken from Morel 1992.)

‘topical: marked: predicated’ (100)

C’ est lui qui arriva en retard. it is him who arrived late Theme: topical: marked: predicated Rheme Theme/Subject “It is him who arrived late.”

The predicated Theme, lui “him”, is the prominent form of the pronominal Subject form il “he”. This indicates that the predication of an unmarked Theme makes it marked in the sense that it is also prominent in the information structure. The prominent form of the pronominal, lui, instead of its non-prominent correlate, il, indicates tonic prominence (see Caffarel 1996). Layer 1: ‘absolute Theme: clause-initial: cohere-with-transitivity-role’; Layer 2: ‘topical: unmarked’ (101)

Lui il arriva en retard. him he arrived late absolute Theme Rheme Theme: topical: unmarked Rheme “He arrived late.”

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 Alice Caffarel

Layer 1: ‘topical: unmarked’; Layer 2: ‘absolute: clause-final (reprise)’ (102)

Il arriva en retard lui. he arrived late him Theme: topical: unmarked Rheme reprise Theme “He arrived late.”

The absolute Themes found in examples (4), (5) and (6) in Text 2.6 below are not coreferential with an element of the experiential structure, but cohere with preceding elements in the text. Morel (1992) suggests that “the role of Theme in (4) is to bring back into focus question (1), of which the answer (2) was considered unsatisfactory (3)”. The absolute Theme in (4) allows the speaker to re-orient the addressee to the point of a previous message and elaborate on it. Text 2.6 A

(1) Et quel est le programme d’expérimental en maîtrise? and what is the experimental masters program Th: text Th: int Rheme “And what is the experimental masters program?”

B

(2) Je ne peux vous le donner au juste. I neg can you it give exactly Theme: top.: Rheme unmarked “I can’t tell you exactly.”

A

(3) Non enfin c’ était pour savoir à peu près c’que c’était quoi. no well it was in order to know just what it was excl Th: Th: Theme: Rheme text. text. top. “No, well, it was in order to know just what it was, damn it.”

B

(4) E . . . le programme au vous avez de toutes une en plus des niveau de la maîtrise façons recherche enseignements. um . . . the masters you have in any research in addition to program case assignments absolute Theme Rheme “Um . . . with the masters program, in any case, you have research in addition to assignments.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French 

A

(5) Oui, bon, la formation quels fautil prendre? en maîtrise certificats yes well the masters which impers+mod+3sg it to-take course diplomas Th: Th: absolute Rheme text. text. Theme “Yes, well, for the masters course . . . what diplomas must one have?”

B

(6) Et puis ensuite ergonomie c’ est pareil? and then ergonomics it is the-same Theme: text. Theme: text. absolute Theme Rheme “And then ergonomics . . . is it the same?”

As we have seen in this section, French experiential theme systems have two main types of Themes: absolute and non-absolute. Absolute Themes are characteristic of spoken discourse and are often realized by prominent pronominals (moi, toi, lui/elle, nous, vous, eux/elles) in dialogic texts. These prominent pronominals tend to function as Theme & New or Rheme & New, while non-prominent pronominals (clitics) are typically unmarked Theme & Given or Rheme & Given and simultaneously indicate participant functions. In addition, non-prominent pronominals have long staying power in discourse, forming reference chains throughout the dialogue, while prominent pronominals more typically mark contrastive emphasis, and serve to stage the exchange (see Caffarel 1996). These generalizations regarding French absolute Themes in spoken discourse can be extended to the interpretation of the discourse function of marked Themes in written texts. Whilst absolute Themes tend to indicate a change of turn in dialogic text, marked Themes tend to indicate a new stage in monologic texts. Unmarked Themes, in contrast, tend to convey thematic continuity. This claim is supported by the analysis of a text instance in the next section.

... Method of development: a biographic description The text I would like to discuss is a short literary biography found at the beginning of a paperback novel. The topic is Michel Zévaco, an author of historical novels. Consider the thematic analysis of the Zévaco text. In the following analysis, I analyse dependent clauses (β clauses) which are in initial position as marked topical Themes. In clauses where the Subject is elliptical, the topical Theme is also treated as elliptical.

 Alice Caffarel

Text 2.7: Short literary biography of Michel Zévaco (1)

Michel Zévaco est né en 1860 à Ajaccio (Corse). Michel Zévaco be-3sg born-past in 1860 in Ajaccio (Corsica) Theme: top: unmarked Rheme “Michel Zévaco was born in 1860 in Ajaccio (Corsica).”

(2)

Après de brillantes études il est nommé professeur au collège de lettres, de Vienne (Isère). after brilliant studies in Arts he be-3sg appoint-past professor to the college of Vienna Theme: topical: marked Rheme “After brilliant studies in Arts, he was appointed professor to the college of Vienna.”

(3)

Révoqué au bout de peu pour “idées avancées”, il part pour Paris, de temps dismissed after a short time for “progressive ideas” he goes to Paris Theme: topical: marked (β clause) Rheme “Dismissed after a short time for ‘progressive ideas’, he goes to Paris,”

(4)

et devient rédacteur du quotidien anarchiste “L’égalité”. and becomes editor of the anarchist daily paper “L’égalité” Theme: textual Rheme “and becomes editor of the anarchist daily paper ‘L’égalité’.

(5)

Dés 1890 il est connu pour son talent de polémiste. from 1890 he be-3sg know-past for his talent as a polemicist Theme: top: mrkd Rheme “From 1890, he is known for his talent as a polemicist,”

(6)

qui

lui vaut

de passer un mois à la prison politique de Sainte-Pélagie. which him cost-impf of to-pass a month in the political prison +3sg of Sainte-Pélagie Theme: text. & Rheme top: unmarked “which costs him a month in the political prison of Sainte-Pélagie.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French 

(7)

Le journal disparu Michel entre comme critique artistique au Courrier Zévaco et littéraire français. the gone, Michel enters as art and at the Courrier newpaper Zévaco literary critic français Theme: topical: Rheme marked (β clause) “The newspaper gone, Michel Zévaco starts as art and literary critic at the at the Courrier français.”

(8)

Pour élever

(9)

Dés le premier – “Borgia” – le succés est immediat. From the first – “Borgia” – success be-3sg immediate Theme: topical: marked Rheme “From the first – ‘Borgia’ – success is immediate.”

ses cinq il se met à écrire des feuilletons enfants, historiques. for to-raise his five he refl-3sg start-3sg to write a historical children series Th: top: mrkd (β clause) Rheme “In order to raise his five children, he starts to write a historical series.”

(10)

Il

se

en 1901 avec la publication du “Pont des Soupirs”, it refl continue-3sg in 1901 with the publication of +3sg “Pont des Soupirs” Theme: topical: Rheme unmarked “It continues in 1901 with the publication of ‘Pont des Soupirs’.”

(11)

et

s’

affermit

poursuit

avec les quelques qu’ écrira Michel en dix trente ouvrages Zévaco huit ans. and refl- strengthens with the some that write-fut Michel in 18 3sg thirty works +3sg Zévaco years Th: Rheme text. “and strengthens with the thirty or so works that Michel Zévaco will write in 18 years,”

 Alice Caffarel

(12)

parmi lesquels les aventures des forment un cycle Pardaillans important. among which the adventures of the form-3pl an important Pardaillans cycle Theme: marked Rheme “among which, the adventures of the Pardaillans form an important cycle.”

(13)

Michel Zévaco est mort en 1918. Michel Zévaco be-3sg die-past in 1918 Theme: topical: unmarked Rheme “Michel Zévaco died in 1918.”

Although there is no apparent macro-Theme or hyper-Theme in this text, it could be argued that the hyper-Theme of this text is “Zévaco”. This would correlate with the nature of the text as a short account of an author’s life. In this kind of text, one would predict that the method of development would either be the author or the life-stages of the author’s life. In other words, the method of development is likely to be topical or temporal. At first glance, the method of development of this text appears to follow neither pattern. The Theme-Rheme distribution encountered in Text 2.7 is summarized in Table 2.16 below. Table 2.16 shows that the thematic flow in the Zévaco text displays pattern (1) shown in below. I will suggest however that in the Zévaco text the method of development revolves around both the patterns of thematic progression (1) and (2), represented in Figure 2.11 on page 131. Pattern (1) is realized within each generic stage of the Zévaco text. When the pattern breaks down, i.e. when there is discontinuity in the thematic progression – discontinuity in the sense that the Theme does not follow from the previous Rheme – then a new life-stage is introduced. Figure 2.12 131 below shows that the Table 2.16 Theme-Rheme distribution in Text 2.7 Clause 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Theme Michel Zévaco brilliant studies dismissed for progressive ideas from 1890 which newspaper gone to raise his five children from first publication – Borgia it (success)

10

among which

11

Michel Zévaco

Rheme birth date and place appointed professor college of Vienne goes to Paris, becomes anarchist editor known as polemicist cause time in political prison becomes literary and art critic writes historical series immediate success continues with Pont des Soupirs, and strengthens with 30 more works the adventures of Pardaillans form an important cycle death date

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of French (1) T1

R1

T2 (=R1)

R2

T3 (=R2) (2)

R3

[T]

T1

R1 R2

T2

R3

T3

Figure 2.11 Different patterns of thematic progression (Daneš 1974, cited in Fries 1981) Theme

Rheme

1

1 stage 1: birth

2

2

3

3

4

4

5

5

6

6 stage 4: pre-literary life (3)

7

7

8

8

9

9

10

10

11

11 stage 6: death

stage 2: pre-literary life (1) [professor] stage 3: pre-literary life (2) [jail term]

adulthood

[art critic] stage 5: literary life

Figure 2.12 Global organization and local flow

global thematic organization, which contributes to the structuring of information, corresponds more or less to a generic structure based on life stages which can be summarized as: Thus, although the text does not directly display a temporal method of development, in that it does not directly indicate life stages, it does so indirectly by introducing events that are crucial to each life stage. Global Themes, i.e. Themes that correlate with the structure of the text, also perform a local function in that they orient the reader to the important points introduced in the Rhemes. The



 Alice Caffarel

local flow of information is marked by the Theme-Rheme-Theme progression pattern illustrated as pattern (1) in Figure 2.11, i.e. the Theme is predicted from the Rheme of the preceding clause. The correlation of global Themes with text structure, and the realization of the local flow of information from Rheme to Theme is schematized in Figure 2.12. Figure 2.12 indicates that each global Theme in Text 2.7 begins a new stage in Zévaco’s life. Each stage is surrounded by boxes. Within each stage the local flow of information is realized by pattern (1) of thematic progression. The initial Theme in each stage functions both as global and local Theme, while the other Themes perform only a local function. Thus, if we look at the text, the first global Theme is “Zévaco”. It introduces the first life stage, the birth of the author. The next Theme does not follow from the previous Theme or Rheme. A new stage is introduced, that of the author’s pre-adult life (education and first job). This second stage forms a thematic pattern where the second Theme follows from the first Rheme of stage 2. Thus, we understand that the non-finite clause revoqué pour idées avancées was chosen as Theme because the preceding Rheme tells us about the author’s appointment as professor. The next global Theme is a temporal circumstance and thus overtly introduces a new stage. The thematic organization of the text follows this pattern of discontinuity and continuity throughout. Figure 2.12 shows clearly that the most developed stage is that of the author’s literary life, which is not surprising considering the nature of the text. Thus despite apparent incoherence in the thematic organization, we can see that the thematic patterns are not arbitrary. I mentioned earlier that pattern (2) was also foregrounded in the Zévaco text. This pattern where one global Theme is re-selected throughout the text is present if we argue that the text foregrounds two layers of thematic organization. Thus, within the marked pattern that contribute to the structuring of the text, where β clauses are thematic within clause complexes, there is an umarked pattern where Zevaco is the unmarked Theme throughout. This second pattern of thematic organization is represented in Figure 2.13 below. [T] = Zevaco

T1=Ze

R1 T2=Ze

R2 T3=Ze

R3 T4=Ze

R4 T5=Ze

Figure 2.13 The unmarked Theme-Rheme pattern of Text 2.7

R5

.............

.............


Here, I have suggested that thematic structure may be interpreted as consisting of two layers with different degrees of prominence. As a consequence, all elements preceding the process have a thematic function in one or the other layer. A discourse-based approach to Theme-Rheme patterns showed that marked thematic structure correlates more or less with the rhetorical structure of the text and that unmarked thematic structure provides a continuous flow of information throughout the text. Martin & Peters (1985: 78) draw parallel conclusions in relation to the thematic content of a factual exposition: Thematic position is exploited in three different ways in Text 3.7. Firstly, it is used to globally structure the text. [. . . ] Secondly, THEME is exploited on a more local basis, to structure arguments without making use of explicit causal conjunctive links. [. . . ] The remainder of the Themes are available to perform a different function, which has been referred to by Fries (1983) as method of development. These Themes will be referred to as Continuity Themes.

. Typological outlook A systemic perspective on language typology complements cross-linguistic studies based on word structure and gives us the means to highlight similarities between languages such as French, Vietnamese and Pitjantjatjara, for example. This is, as it was pointed out in Chapter 1, because variation across languages is more prominent in the structural or realizational output of the systems of particular language than in the systems themselves. In addition, as we have seen with regard to French, cross-systemic differences are more apparent in the more delicate subsystems which themselves tend to reflect realizational differences. A language typology framework based on systemic commonalities and variations enables us to contrast and compare languages in terms of the types of meanings that are differentiated by their respective grammar rather than in terms of formal oppositions. The system network in Figure 2.14 on page 134 is an attempt at formalizing what French systems are more likely to be common to those of other languages and what systems are more likely to be specific to French. The hypothesis foregrounded by the network Figure 2.14 is that the circled features, which are the most general, are more likely to have correlates across languages, whilst the most delicate features are more likely to be specific to French. Thus, as suggested in the preceding sections, we assume that all languages will have means of grammatically representing interpersonal, experiential and textual meanings. Thus, we can assume that all languages will have (i) systems for distinguishing the semantics of exchange, (ii) systems for representing experience and (iii) systems



 Alice Caffarel

clause simplex

î

ê

î

î exclamative non-polar INTERRO.

indicative + S, +F, +P

ê ê

TYPE

polar no-grammatical-prosody (intonation alone) interrogative í INTERRO. juncture MARKING + M-marker: est-ce que grammatical î prosody (intonation plus) internal S^F formal

MOOD

Predicator: V -ez

singular

informal Predicator: V- ?

exclusive imperative

plural

Predicator: V -iez inclusive Predicator: V -ons

î

íTRANSITIVITY

ê

declarative S^F

informative

ê ê

middle AGENCY

reflexive + se clitic; Aux = #e @ tre non-reflexive synthetic

effective analytic + faire; Process: verbal g.p. complex: á = ‘faire’

í

PROCESS TYPE

î

material non-material

doing

projecting

mental verbal relational

attributive identifying

existential

presentative no Process

being

î

THEME

ê ê

í î

textual-theme Theme/Conjunctive

no-textual-theme interpersonal-theme Theme/Adjunct: interpersonal non-interpersonal-theme marked-topical-theme unmarked-topical-theme Theme/Subject

î

í î

behavioural meteorological

stative + Process

single multiple clause-initial absolute clause-final non-absolute

Figure 2.14 A systemic representation of French grammar: typological outlook


for representing interpersonal and experiential meanings as a message that unfolds within a particular context. i.

All languages construct dialogue for exchanging meaning, for giving and demanding information or goods-&-services. If the lexicogrammar which realizes the speech functional semantics of statement, questions and command are realized by mood systems in French, we can predict that all languages will have mood systems which distinguish between the indicative options (declarative/interrogative) and the imperative. The more delicate interrogative and imperative systems and their realizations will, on the other hand, tend to be more language specific. Thus we have seen for example that French has three prosodic modes of representing interrogative choices (phonological prosody and two types of grammatical prosody, juncture and internal). ii. All languages have means of representing different domains of experience, but we cannot assume that these domains will be differentiated grammatically as they are in French. The way those different domains of experience are organized and realized, as well as the rank location of the systems and their realizations will tend to vary across languages. In French, we have seen that transitivity systems are located at clause rank but can be realized both at clause and group ranks. The potential agglutination of participants to the verbal group suggests that French share characteristics with polysynthetic languages. In addition, in Halliday (1985/1994) and Matthiessen (1995), it is suggested that transitivity systems across languages simultaneously realize different domains of experience and different modes of participating in the process, such as the transitive and the ergative models in French. The Halliday–Matthiessen hypothesis suggests that in all languages phenomenal happenings can be viewed from both a particularizing and a generalizing perspective, these being realized in French grammar by the process type and agency systems respectively. iii. Any clause in any language realizes textual meaning, i.e. is organized as a message. And we can assume that all languages will have marked and unmarked textual structures. However, the systemic organization of more delicate thematic options and their realizations will again vary across languages. In French, we have seen that marked Themes can be absolute or non-absolute and that the realization is positional, mostly clause-initial and in some registers clause-final. Although we have seen that cross-linguistic differences are more apparent in the realizations of systems at a more abstract level of realization we can say that languages are alike in the sense that interpersonal meanings have been found to be realized prosodically, experiential meanings segmentally and textual meanings periodically.



 Alice Caffarel

References Caffarel, A. (1992). “Interacting between a Generalized Tense Semantics and Registerspecific Semantic Tense Systems”. Language Sciences, 14(4), 385–418. Caffarel, A. (1995). “Approaching the French Clause as a Move in Dialogue: Interpersonal organization”. In R. Hasan & P. Fries (Eds.), On Subject and Theme, a Discourse Functional Perspective (pp. 1–49). Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Caffarel, A. (1997). “Models of Transitivity in French: A systemic functional interpretation”. In Anne-Marie Simon-Vandenbergen, Kristin Davidse, & Dirk Noël (Eds.), Reconnecting Language: Morphology and syntax in functional perspectives (pp. 249–296). Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Combettes, N. (1975). Pour une Linguistique Textuelle [For a textual linguistics]. Nancy: Acadèmie de Nancy-Metz. Comrie, B. (1976). Aspect. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Coveney, A. (1991). “Variation in Interrogatives in Spoken French. A preliminary report”. In J. N. Green & W. Ayres-Bennett (Eds.), Variation and Change in French. Essays presented to Rebecca Posner on the occasion of her sixtieth birthday (pp. 116–133). New York: Routledge. Fries, P. H. (1981). “On the Status of Theme in English: Arguments from discourse”. Forum Linguisticum, 6(1), 1–38. Gary, R. (1956). Education Européenne [European education]. Paris: Gallimard. Goosse, A. (1993). Le Bon Usage: Grammaire française [Good usage: French grammar] (13th ed.). Paris: Duculot. Halliday, M. A. K. (1985/1994). An Introduction to Functional Grammar. London: Edward Arnold. Huddleston, R. D. & O. Uren (1969). “Declarative, Interrogative, and Imperative in French”. Lingua, 22, 1–26. Lombard, M. (1986). CORPUS Lombard. Aix en Provence: Groupe Aixois de Recherches en Syntaxe (GARS), Université de Provence. Mallet-Joris, F. (1971). La Maison de Papier [The house of paper]. Paris: Éditions Bernard Grasset. Martin, J. R. (1983). “Participant Identification in English, Tagalog and Kâte”. Australian Journal of Linguistics, 3(1), 45–74. Martin, J. R & P. Peters (1985). “On the Analysis of Exposition”. In R. Hasan (Ed.), Discourse on Discourse (= Applied Linguistic Association of Australia Occasional Papers 7) (pp. 61– 92). Matthiessen, C. (1995). Lexicogrammatical Cartography: English systems. Tokyo: International Language Sciences Publishers. Morel, M.-A. (1992). “L’opposition Thème/Rhème dans la Structuration des Dialogues Oraux [The Theme/Rheme opposition in the structure of oral dialogues]”. Journal of French Language Studies, 2(1), 61–74. Rickard, P. (1996). A History of the French language (2nd ed.). London & New York: Routledge. Sainte-Soline, C. (1972). “Le Tabac Vert [The green tobacco]”. Parallel Text. French Short Stories 2 ed. by Simon Lee, trans. by Peter Newmark. London: Penguin.


Spence, N. C. W. (1976). “Pronoms et Substituts: La cohésion de l’énoncé [Pronouns and substitutes: textual cohesion]”. Le Français Contemporain [Contemporary French] (pp. 104–127). München: Wilhelm Fink Verlag. Thomas, H. (1966). “L’offensive [The offensive]”. Parallel text. French Short Stories 1 ed. by Pamela Lyons, trans. by Ken Thompson. London: Penguin. Todd, E. (1988). La Nouvelle France [The new France]. Paris: Éditions du Seuil. Vian, B. (1972). “Les Fourmis [Pins and needles]”. Parallel Text. French Short Stories 2. ed. by Simon Lee, trans. by Rawdon Corbett. London: Penguin. Walter, H. (1994). L’Aventure des Langues en Occident. Leur Origine, leur Histoire, leur Géographie [The adventure of languages of the west. Their origin, their history, their geography]. Paris: Robert Laffont.

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Chapter 3

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German1 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich University of the Saarland, Saarbrücken / Technische Universität Darmstadt, Darmstadt

. A brief history of German The following are the main periods in the development of German: Germanic developed out of Indo-European in the first half of the first millennium BC. After roughly another 1000 years, English and German separated out of Western Germanic, a very heterogeneous group of varieties which should not be thought of as one single language. Following Schmidt (1993: 30–31) in giving priority to linguistic factors over other historical factors, and in deliberately leaving aside the very important development of Niederdeutsch (“Low German”), we assume for Deutsch (“German”) the periods of Althochdeutsch (“Old High German” (OHG, 5001050)), Mittelhochdeutsch (“Middle High German” (MHG, 1050-1350)), Frühneuhochschdeutsch (“Early Modern High German” (EmodHG, 1350-1650)) and Neuhochdeutsch (“Modern High German” (ModHG, 1650-present)). The development of Modern High German Standard, although it started earlier, can only be said to have reached a decisive success around the end of the 18th century. Considering the registers through which the language developed, we have to conclude that, in the first place, the available sources up to MHG are extremely few and represent a narrow range of registers. After this period, the development moved towards adding more worldly topics to the dominant religious ones and towards a gradual broadening of the registerial range. Yet only the period after the 15th century brought the massive impact of the fields of science, and somewhat later technology, a development which was of course only possible through new discourses and, as a consequence, changes in linguistic systems. As far as the tenor of discourse is concerned, we find an ever increasing range of agentive roles, social roles, and, at least in some registers, degrees of social distance and affect. And it has probably only been since the advent of radio, television, and associated recording

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

devices that we have had the means for massively recording spoken and thus everyday registers, even if earlier writers, especially in the 19th century, increasingly incorporated everyday language into literature. In other words, the history of communication through spoken, interactive registers – certainly the dominant form of existence of most languages to date – is largely inaccessible to us for the time, roughly, before 1900. Let us very briefly review some major developments of important systems in transitivity, mood, and theme for German, as these will be our focus of discussion later on. We will largely exclude phonology and vocabulary, as well as those areas of grammar which are outside the focus of the present paper. Morphologically, German developed in the general direction from relatively synthetic to more analytic, but that development has been considerably more conservative than in the case of English (for example), leading to the present state in which German is still a relatively strongly inflecting and synthetic language, with a relatively free word-order. The OHG period is characterized by a general reduction of inflections relative to Germanic. This was the environment for the introduction of articles, personal pronouns and some analytic means of expressing cases and tenses. With regard to the ideational function, many of the major process types of modern German were already present. Considering the logical function in particular, it appears that after relative clauses – a relatively old type of clause – the next most frequent non-main clause in this period was the complement, or projected clause, often in processes of verbalization. These clauses also often had a supporting pre-posed dat (“that”) in the projecting clause, marking an intermediate stage between embedding and projection. Expanding clauses existed at this time as well, yet concessive and various modal clauses were rare. Also in the area of grammatical complexing, we see that the passive developed out of Germanic bi-verbal verbal groups at this time. In other words, complexing – the potential of logical dependency structures – was on the increase in the clause and in the verbal group, sometimes at the expense of older constituency structures. Several sources show frequent parataxis without explicit conjunction, which as a result adds to the high number of Processes as Themes, as do the Subject-less clauses. Completing our transition to a consideration of textual meaning, we find that basic word order was still somewhat freer than it later became, making the notion of markedness of Themes even weaker than it is for ModHG. The verb-final position in dependent clauses had not yet become as clearly established as it did later on. A further important development was the elaboration of cohesive and grammaticalized means in the textual function, in particular for the expression of clause-combining relations of several types. Globally, we find a fixing of word order relative to (Western) Germanic, but word order was still freer than it was

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German

in ModHG. Overall, the influence of Latin sources, through translations or other forms of contact, is significant. Turning to developments in the interpersonal function, we see that Subject-less clauses were still somewhat more frequent than later on, due to the direct influence of Latin and due to the still relatively strong verb inflection for person and number. The basic mood system seems to be in place already, with a strong dominance of indicatives in text, maybe as a function of the very special range of registers represented in available sources. Proceeding to MHG, we find that hypotaxis and parataxis had both developed, along with most modern forms of cohesive conjunctive relations, but conjunctions were still less grammaticalized, and also more ambiguous, than in ModHG. Simple juxtaposition, without overt marking of cohesive logico-semantic relations, was still frequent. The language moved closer to Finite-second position in main clauses and Finite-end position in hypotactically dependent clauses, while traces of the older higher degree of freedom are still noticeable, among them the possibility of multiple (experiential and other) Themes. The full verb frame (Verbalklammer) of modern German, with finite and non-finite elements separated between second and end positions in main clauses, was still rare, but already systemically possible. As in ModHG, new information tended towards the end of the clause, unless thematized as marked Theme. Lyrical genres, but not only those, had rhythm and rhyme as further factors influencing word order. “Heavy” information occurred towards the end, or even after the last verb of the clause (extraposition). ModHG, from the point of view of grammatical development, began around 1650, and stabilized into the modern standard language around the end of the 18th century. Morphology has continuously become weaker since the times of OHG and Germanic. Register-specific lexicogrammatical preferences increase substantially, as do the number and kind of registers altogether. Especially in the 16th and 17th centuries, certain registers show an extensive, and sometimes excessive, use of hypotaxis and often simple juxtaposition of clauses and phrases. This can be read as one sign of the increasing demands of new scientific and philosophical registers on the expression of logico-semantic relations, a development which gained momentum from the 14th and 15th centuries. From the 17th century onwards, we also notice a significant increase in the length and complexity of nominal groups. It is against the background of this very brief sketch of the historical development of the language that we will now proceed to a first general overview of some key systems of the language at present.

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 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

. A description of the paradigmatic and syntagmatic organization of the German clause The present section gives an account of major systems of the German clause: mood (Section 3.3), transitivity (Section 3.4) and theme (Section 3.5). For reasons of space, we will have to restrict ourselves as to the phenomena covered. Under mood, we will review the most general systems, going into some detail in the areas of the imperative subsystem, the status of the tagging system, and the structure of the Mood element. Under transitivity, we will be concentrating on the privileging of a transitive rather than an ergative organization, the relatively direct and constrained relationship between participant functions and grammatical functions, and on selected areas of mental, verbal, relational and material processes. In the area of theme, we will focus on theme type in declarative clauses. We will emphasize the high functional load placed on word order in German for the expression of textual meaning. While we subscribe to the statement that German has a mixed word order overall, some of its SOV properties will receive particular attention. A general typological property providing the environment for a host of individual phenomena seems to be the generally quite direct and constrained relationship between semantic structures and lexicogrammatical realizations (cf. Hawkins 1986; Doherty 1991, for more coverage).2 This can be observed in the experiential, interpersonal and textual regions of the grammar of German in the following ways. In the interpersonal domain of mood, the functional element of Subject has a relatively low functional load, essentially that of expressing modal responsibility together with the Finite. There are several clause types in German without a Subject, or with a very weakly grammaticalized Subject. Also, German does not exhibit a strong tendency to conflate meanings of modality, phase, and some tenses with the Finite and therefore those meanings are often not involved in expressing modal responsibility. This can be taken as another expression of the general tendency of German towards a relatively direct relationship between semantics and lexicogrammar in the clause. In the experiential domain of transitivity, the organization of the German lexicogrammar of process types is transitive, rather than ergative. The morphological marking is clearly transitive; and because it is quite differentiated, and because the conflation of participant roles and grammatical functions is relatively constrained, there is not much of a grammatical cryptotype of ergativity in German. In the same vein, passivization, as a kind of relation change in process types, is quite restricted in German in the sense that only participant roles conflated with the Direct Object in active voice have agnate Subjects in passive voice. German does have, though, a type of passive without a referential Subject and with the Finite as Theme (cf. Section 3.5 below). Relation-changing processes (diathesis) for almost

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

all process types require explicit morphological marking (causative verbs, reflexive pronouns, prefixation of verbs for causativization, middle-formation, change from non-resultative to resultative clause types). Functional elements other than the Subject can easily be conflated with Theme, often without creating a particularly marked word order. In the textual domain of theme, we can observe that German word order and its high degree of freedom carry a high functional load for the expression of textual meanings. By contrast, languages encoding grammatical functions by linear order (configurational languages) often express these meanings in textually agnated sets of clauses in the form of grammatical alternations (passivization, grammatical metaphor, and predicated and identifying Themes). German basic word order (SOV in hypotactically dependent clauses, clause-final position of the non-finite verb forms in all cases of complex verbal groups) furthermore implies that the lexicogrammatical realization of the Process often comes very late in the clause. Thematically, therefore, clauses in German are much less “about the Process” than many of their counterparts in clear SVO languages. In terms of a semantics of events (figures, in the sense this term is used by Halliday & Matthiessen 1999), German tends towards being a Process-final language in many cases – but this a question of degree, rather than an absolute distinction across constructions, and can furthermore be counteracted in main clauses by textual means which make the Process thematic. German basic word order appears to us to be a mixture of SVO and SOV overall. Finally, it can be noted that certain classes of semantic events and configurations of events (figures and sequences, cf. Halliday & Matthiessen 1999) are metafunctionally differently encoded in German from the way they are in languages leaning more towards grammatical metaphor. For example, in the construal of complex semantic figures, languages such as English tend towards an experiential construal, whereas German tends towards a logical one. Examples can be found in English clauses with relational verbs of the type imply, involve, etc., where causal or otherwise associative relations between complex states or events are expressed within one clause, and where their German counterparts frequently involve hypotactic clause complexes realizing the same logico-semantic relation in a conjunction or adverbially. This accords with the general tendency of German towards a relatively direct relationship between form and meaning. German seems to allow relatively less grammatical metaphor, especially of the experiential type, than English or French. Where the same metaphors as in those other languages are systemically possible, they have a more strongly metaphoric meaning and are more marked. Some properties of the German verbal group contribute to the picture just drawn: German has less overall complexity in the verbal group than English, which again leads to a tendency to express figures or sequences in clause complexes, often with finite clauses, and these are once again less ambiguous than their counterparts

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

with complex verbal groups and their non-finite verb forms. So-called raising constructions, in general, are relatively restricted in German, i.e. meanings of phase and modality are typically realized in prepositional phrases and adverbial groups in German, rather than within the verbal group. We shall not have the space here to go into this very interesting area, as we will focus on the clause, rather than on the verbal group. We will now proceed to review major clause systems in the areas of mood, transitivity, and theme in some more detail. Where appropriate we compare German to other languages: especially, we make reference to English in a few places. Throughout the text, German examples are presented together with English interlinear glosses or translations (translations and direct quoted speech are presented in double quotes). Where necessary for ease of understanding or illustration, both glosses and translations are given.

. The mood system and interpersonal structure This section describes the major interpersonal resources of the German clause. In particular, we present the major mood options and their realizations and relate the mood potential to other functional regions of the German grammatical system. The descriptive basis of the present account are standard grammars of German (Heidolph, Flämig, & Motsch 1981; Weinrich 1993; Engel 1988) and our own previous work (Steiner 1994; Teich 1999).

.. Basic mood options The basic options of the German mood system are ‘declarative’, ‘interrogative’ and ‘imperative’. Each of them is characterized by a number of constraints on grammatical structure, on the one hand, and on selection of tone, on the other hand.3 Consider the following sample text from a dialogue taken from a narrative text (the projecting clauses such as fragte er (“he asked”) and sagte sie (“she said”) have been removed to simplify the analysis). Text 3.1 From Christa Wolf, Der geteilte Himmel. “The Divided Sky.” A

(1) Was macht die Brigade Meternagel? what make- 3sg+pres the Meternagel brigade Predicator Finite Subject “What is the Meternagel brigade doing?”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

B

(2) Sie zanken sich. they quarrel-3pl+pres refl-3pl Subject Finite/Predicator Adjunct “They’re quarrelling.”

A

(3) Meternagel macht zu viel Dampf, was? Meternagel make-3sg+pres too much steam int Subject Finite/Predicator Complement Tag “Meternagel puts the screws on, doesn’t he?”

B

(4) Er hat doch recht. he have-3sg+pres emph right Subject Finite/Predicator Adjunct Complement “He is perfectly right.”

A

(5) Warum glauben Sie ihm nur nicht. why believe-2.form+pres you-form him just not Comp Finite/Predicator Subject Comp Adj Adj “Just why don’t you believe him?”

Examples (1) and (5) are w-questions (the equivalent of English wh-interrogatives), in which the w-element is ordered in initial position, followed by the Finite and the Subject. Examples (2) and (4) are declarative, and example (3) is a declarative which is tagged (by was). The system network displayed in Figure 3.1 gives the basic mood options of German.

Figure 3.1 German mood

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

German shares these basic mood options with many other languages. Germanspecific properties lie in the realization of these basic options, in the status of the tagging option, in delicacy for imperatives and in the organization of the Mood structure. Let us look at some examples illustrating each of these properties.

.. Realization For German declarative clauses, there is the potential of Subject-less clauses (see examples (24b) and (24c) in Section 3.4.2), although most clause types do have a Subject. Generally, the ordering of the Finite is only partially constrained by mood type. In w-interrogatives the Finite is ordered in second position, in polar interrogatives and imperatives it is ordered at front. However, this is only true of independent clauses. In hypotactically dependent clauses, the ordering of the Finite is Finite-last. For declarative clauses, the ordering of the Finite is not at all determined by mood, but by interdependency exclusively: in independent clauses, the Finite is ordered in second position; in hypotactically dependent clauses the Finite occupies the final position.4

.. Use of tagging In German, there is the systemic option of tagging declarative, interrogative and imperative clauses. This option is typical of spoken language and different tags express different degrees of formality. Consider example (3) from Text 3.1 above and examples (1) and (2) below. ‘declarative & tagged’ (1)

Alles hat eben Konsequenzen, ne? everything have-3sg after all consequences int Subject Fin/Pred Adj Complement Adj “Everything has consequences, doesn’t it?”

‘imperative & tagged’ (2)

Mach doch das Radio leiser, ja? make-(2sg+imp) emph the radio lower int Predicator Adj Complement Comp Adjunct “Turn down the radio, will you?”

Example (1) here and (3) from Text 3.1 above are tagged declaratives, and example (2) here is a tagged imperative. Since tagging is lexically realized (e.g. was, ne, ja), there is no indication in the tag of what it is exactly that is replayed, the Mood

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

element or the whole clause. Thus, for German, tagging cannot be taken as an indicator of the Mood element (cf. Section 3.3.5 below on Mood structure).

.. Subclasses of imperatives German distinguishes several types of imperatives. First of all, there is the option of expressing an imperative impersonally versus personally. See examples (3) and (4). ‘imperative: impersonal’ (3)

Einfahrt freihalten! entry keep-clear-inf Complement Predicator “Keep the entry clear!”

‘imperative: personal’ (4)

Halten Sie die Einfahrt frei! keep-2form you-form the entry clear Finite/Predicator Subject Complement Comp “Keep the entry clear!”

The impersonal imperative is realized with a bare infinitive, as in example (3), with sein (“be”) + zu-infinitive or with a participle, and is typically used for very strongly imperative commands and prohibitions. ‘imperative: personal: speaker-inclusive: commanding’ (5)

Wir we Subject “We go!”

gehen! go-1pl Finite/Predicator

‘imperative: personal: speaker-inclusive: commanding’ (6)

Gehen go-1pl Finite/Predicator “We go!”

wir! we Subject

‘imperative: personal: speaker-inclusive: proposing’ (7)

Lass let-(2sg+imp) Finite “Let’s go!”

uns us Subject

gehen! go-inf Predicator

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

Table 3.1 Realizations of personal, speaker-exclusive imperative options number of addressees one Kommen Sie come-2form you-form Fin/Pred Subject “Come in!” non-polite Komm come-(2sg+imp) Finite/Predicator “Come in!” politeness polite

herein! in Adj herein! in Adjunct

more than one Kommen Sie come-2form you-form Fin/Pred Subject “Come in!” Kommt come-2pl+imp Finite/Predicator “Come in!”

herein! in Adj herein! in Adjunct

Personal imperatives are subclassified further along the dimensions of speakerinclusion (with the features ‘speaker-inclusive’ and ‘speaker-exclusive’) and tagging. If the speaker is included, the imperative can be either ‘proposing’ or ‘commanding’. In the latter, the structural realization can be Subject ^ Finite or Finite ^ Subject and the Subject is realized by the personal pronoun wir (“we”) (see examples (5) and (6) above). With ‘proposing’ imperatives that include the speaker, the verb lassen (“let”) is inserted, as in example (7). Personal imperatives that do not include the speaker are further subclassified along the dimensions of politeness and number-of-addressees. This paradigm is exemplified in Table 3.1. Note that personal imperatives of the type ‘speaker-inclusive: commanding’ are realized by structures that are like declarative (as in example (5): Subject ^ Finite) or interrogative (as in example (6): Finite ^ Subject) and the Finite is realized in the verbal mood of ‘indicative’. The meaning of ‘command’ comes about by intonation only. Personal imperatives of the type ‘speaker-exclusive’ such as (4), on the other hand, are realized by the verbal mood of ‘imperative’.5 The relation between verbal mood and clausal mood is rather varied: only for imperatives that are ‘personal: speaker-exclusive’ is there a one-to-one relation with verbal imperative mood, i.e. the Finite in an imperative clause must be realized by an imperative verb form. (8)

Geh du das Brot holen! go-(2sg+imp) you the bread get-inf Finite Subject Complement Predicator “You go and get the bread!”

With the polite imperative option, there is always a Subject and it is realized by the polite personal pronoun Sie (written with an initial capital letter). With the nonpolite option, there is typically no Subject, but it may be used, if it needs to be focused (see example (8) above).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

.. Mood structure The Mood element realizes the selection of mood and thus carries the modal responsibility in the clause. In German, agreement between Subject and Finite in declarative and interrogative clauses is the most obvious indicator of the Mood element. As mentioned above, tagging is not a useful test for German, because tags are lexical rather than structural. The question test is of limited value, too. Only when the Predicator is not coexistent with the Finite do we have the same effect as, for instance, in English: the Mood element is replayed in elliptical answers. (9)

(10)

Hat er das erledigt? – Ja, hat er. have-3sg he that deal-with-past yes have-3sg he Finite Subj Comp Predicator Finite Subj “Has he taken care of that?” – “Yes, he has.” Kannst du das morgen erledigen? – Ja, kann ich. can-2sg you that tomorrow deal-with yes can-2sg I Finite Subj Comp Adj Predicator Finite Subj “Can you take care of that tomorrow?” – “Yes, I can.”

(The elliptical answer here could also be Subject ^ Finite, i.e. Ja, ich kann.) (11)

Erledigst du das? – Ja, mache ich. deal-with-2sg you that yes make-1sg I Finite/Predicator Subject Comp Finite Subject “Will you take care of that?” – “Yes, I will.”

Example (9) has an auxiliary of present perfect tense, and example (10) has a modal auxiliary. If there is no auxiliary, there is the possibility of using substitution by the verbs machen “make” (see example (11)), tun “do” or sein “be”. With substitution as a test for eliciting the Mood element, further evidence can be provided by testing whether elements other than the Subject can participate in this kind of substitution. Consider example (12). (12) Wird er das erledigen? fut-3sg he that deal-with “Will he take care of that?” a. Wird er. b. Er wird. c. *Wird das. will he he will will that “He will.” “He will.” Example (12) shows that in fact ellipsis of the Subject is not possible. This shows its special status as carrier of modal responsibility, i.e. as that element by reference to which a proposition is negotiated (e.g. affirmed or denied; cf. Halliday 1985: 76).

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

While substitution is thus a valid test for eliciting the Mood element, note that it is more common in German exchanges to use an Adjunct instead of replaying the Mood element or simply to affirm or deny with ja or nein, respectively. See example (13). (13)

Erledigst du das? – Ja, sicher. / Ja. deal-with-2sg you that yes sure yes “Will you take care of that?” – “Yes, sure.” / “Yes.”

Generally, the Subject in German is grammaticalized by being marked by nominative case. In general, word order in German is textually rather than syntactically motivated.6 Evidence for this is mainly that in German, elements of structure other than the Subject can occupy the Theme position without making the Theme marked (cf. Section 3.5) and that there are process types that do not conflate the most inherent participant role with the Subject (cf. Section 3.4). The flexibility of German word order and its variety in the realization of process types has the following consequences for German Mood structure: in polar interrogatives, the Finite can be followed by any participant, although some combinations require very specific textual motivation. For declaratives, the ordering of Subject and Finite also depends on what is in the Vorfeld, i.e. in the position before the Finite (cf. Section 3.5) – see example (14).7 Also, Mood can be discontinuous, e.g. in hypotactically dependent clauses like example (15) and when there is a third participant as in example (16). (14)

Wenn es einen Orkan gibt, if it a hurricane give-3sg Subject Complement Finite/Predicator “If there is a hurricane, sieht man das schon Tage vorher am Himmel. see-3sg one that already days ahead sky Fin/Pred Subject Comp Adjunct Adjunct Adjunct you see signs of it in the sky for days ahead.”

In examples (14) and (16) the Finite is ordered before the Subject and in (20) it is ordered after the Subject. In (20) and (21), Mood is discontinuous. If anything other than Subject or Finite is in initial position in major clauses, we have Finite ^ Subject ordering, otherwise the inverse. Thus, the constraints concerning Subject-Finite ordering deriving from declarative can only be expressed as relative ordering rather than strict precedence, and both Subject ^ Finite and Finite ^ Subject are possible.


(15)

Weil er gestern von niemandem etwas bekam . . . because he yesterday from nobody anything get-3sg+past Subj Adjunct Adjunct Comp Finite/Pred “Because he didn’t get anything from anybody yesterday . . . ”

(16)

Gestern gab ihm keiner was. yesterday gave-3sg+past him nobody anything Adjunct Finite/Predicator Comp Subject Complement “Yesterday nobody gave him anything.”

.. Modality and polarity Let us conclude this section with a few remarks about polarity, modality and modulation. In German, modality and modulation are realized by verbs or by adverbs, and negative polarity is expressed by the negative adverb nicht (see example (5) from Text 3.1, which is given again below as (17)). (17)

Warum glauben Sie ihm nur nicht. why believe-2form+pres you-form him just not Comp Finite/Predicator Subject Comp Adj Adj “Just why don’t you believe him?”

Generally, the expression of meanings of modality, modulation and also of phase is dissociated from the Finite element: rather than employing auxiliaries for realizing such meanings, German encodes them in Adjuncts. In addition to modal verbs and adverbs, German has a large number of modal particles, which add other kinds of interpersonal meanings to a clause. Consider again example (17), and example (4) from Text 3.1 above, which is given here again as (18). (18)

Er hat doch recht. he have-3sg+pres emph right Subject Finite/Predicator Adjunct Complement “He is perfectly right.”

In example (17), the particle nur signals the speaker’s getting desperate about her addressee not seeming to agree with her. In (18), by using the particle doch the speaker places special emphasis on the fact that the proposition uttered by the other speaker is true. Modal particles are a typical feature of the grammar of German. Although used both in spoken and in written mode, modal particles are more frequent in spoken language. Modal particles can occur with all major mood types. Consider example

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Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(19), which illustrates the use of the modal doch, which here signals urgency, in an imperative clause. (19) Geh doch! go-(2sg+imp) emph “Go away!” In summary, in the German mood system, it is not so much the Subject together with the Finite that realizes the Mood element, but rather the position of the Finite and its realization in terms of verbal mood (‘indicative’ versus ‘imperative’). Modality and modulation meanings tend to be dissociated from the Finite, so that this kind of modal responsibility is not carried by the Mood element.

. The transitivity system and experiential structure This section describes the major process types of German and puts the process type potential in the context of other properties of the grammatical system of German. The descriptive bases of our account are Heidolph, Flämig, & Motsch (1981), Helbig & Buscha (1988) and Polenz (1985), as well as earlier accounts of German transitivity in Steiner et al. (1988) and Teich (1999), which are based on a slightly different conception of transitivity (Fawcett 1980) from that of Halliday (1985). Here, however, we have made an attempt to adopt a Hallidayan view on transitivity, as exemplified for English in Halliday (1985) and Matthiessen (1995).

.. Process type; realization of transitivity roles The German transitivity system can be described as distinguishing between four major process types, as commonly assumed for many other languages as well. These are the ‘material’, ‘mental’, ‘relational’ and ‘verbal’ process types, which are structurally realized as configurations of a Process and the participants of Actor + Goal for material, Senser + Phenomenon for mental, Attribute + Carrier for relational and Sayer + Verbiage for verbal processes. Being an inflecting language, German has a case system (nominative, genitive, dative and accusative). Case is assigned to the complements of a verb partly due to transitivity type. Also, and this is its primary function, case marks syntactic functions. Subjects are realized in nominative case, Direct Objects are realized in accusative case, Indirect Objects are realized in dative case. Genitive case is becoming quite rare with complements: there are very few predicate types that select genitive. The use of the concept of syntactic function in our present account of the


grammatical properties of the German clause is mainly motivated by the role of cases in signalling types of complements.8 The other motivation for particular case assignments is diathesis, e.g. active versus passive. Consider the following examples: (20) a.

b.

Der Junge kaufte den Fussball. the boy-nom bought the football-acc Actor Process: material Goal Subject Finite/Predicator Complement “The boy bought the football.” Der Fussball wurde vom Jungen gekauft. the football-nom became by the boy-dat bought Goal Process: – Actor – material Subject Finite Complement Predicator “The football was bought by the boy.”

The process types in (20a) and (20b) are both material, so the structural configuration is Actor + Process + Goal. In active voice (20a), the Actor (Alice) is conflated with Subject and is marked by the nominative case and the Goal is conflated with the Direct Object marked by the accusative case. In (20b), the passive version of (20a), the Goal is Subject and is thus marked by the nominative case and the Actor is expressed by a prepositional phrase with von, which governs the dative case. Apart from passivization, there is generally a strong tendency towards a one-toone relation between participant roles and syntactic functions. In particular, the Subject is rather restricted in the kinds of participant roles it can be conflated with.

.. Mental clauses Let us now turn to the description of the different process types of the German system of transitivity, starting with mental processes. Consider the following example: (21) a.

Das Haus gefällt mir. the house-nom pleases 1sg-dat Phenomenon Process: mental Senser “The house pleases me.”

Example (21a) is a mental process clause in which the Senser (mir) is realized as a nominal group in dative case and the Phenomenon (das Haus) is realized with nominative case. Since syntactic functions are overtly marked by case in German, elements of structure can easily change position without information about syntactic function being lost, as in example (21b).

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 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(21) b.

Mir gefällt das Haus. 1sg-dat pleases the house-nom Senser Process: mental Phenomenon “The house pleases me.”

Another subtype of mental process which behaves grammatically differently from that exemplified in (21a–b) is shown in (22a): (22) a.

Das Haus beeindruckte mich. the house-nom impressed 1sg-acc Phenomenon Process: mental Senser “The house impressed me.”

In (22a), as in (21a–b), the Phenomenon is conflated with the Subject in active voice; however, the Senser is realized in accusative rather than dative case. Thus, passivization is possible with this subtype of mental clause (see example (22b)), which we call ‘goal-like-senser’ (cf. Figure 3.2). (22) b.

Ich bin (von dem Haus) beeindruckt. I am by the house impressed “I am impressed (by the house).”

Note here that the passive is what is called Zustandspassiv (“state passive”) which is constructed with the auxiliary sein (“to be”).9 In this case, the construction in (22b) could also be accounted for as a kind of relational process, because it shares properties with ‘intensive & attributive’ processes; example (22a) also has a relational equivalent as ‘intensive & attributive’: (22) c.

Das Haus ist beeindruckend. the house is impressive Carrier Proc: rel: int & att Attribute “The house is impressive.”

The third subtype of mental processes that has to be accounted for is exemplified in (23a): (23) a.

Alle mögen everyone likes Senser Process: mental Subject Finite/Predicator “Everyone likes the house.”

das Haus. the house Phenomenon Complement

Example (23a) is different from (21) and (22a): here, the Senser is conflated with the Subject and the Phenomenon with the Direct Object (realized by the accusative case). Also, passivization is possible:


(23) b.

Das Haus wird von allen the house becomes by everyone Phenomenon Process: – Senser Subject Finite Complement “The house is liked by everyone.”

gemocht. liked – mental Predicator

Note again that while passives like example (23b) are possible, there is still the option of simply changing word order to achieve a change-of-perspective effect. We group the three types just described under ‘affection’ processes, because semantically they express affective meaning and syntactically, they differ from the two other major types of mental processes, ‘perception’ and ‘cognition’ processes, which are described below. Mental processes may also have only one participant. Senser-only processes are typically processes of ‘self-perception’; we find the same variety of expressing the Senser as in Senser-Phenomenon configurations. See examples (24a–c), all meaning “I am cold”. (24) a.

b.

c.

Ich friere. 1sg-nom freeze-1sg Senser Process: mental: perception Subject Finite/Predicator “I am cold.” Mich friert. 1sg-acc freeze-3sg Senser Process: mental: perception Complement Finite/Predicator “I am cold.” Mir ist kalt. 1sg-dat be-3sg cold Senser Process: mental Phenomenon Complement Finite/Predicator Subject “I am cold.”

The Senser can be realized in nominative case (24a), accusative case (24b) or dative case (24c). Perception processes can also have a “Goal”, in which case we again have a Senser-Phenomenon configuration. Consider examples (25) to (27). (25)

Ich höre ein Auto. I hear-3sg a car Senser Process: mental: perception Phenomenon “I hear a car.”

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 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(26)

Ich höre, dass ein Auto kommt. I hear that a car come-3sg Senser Proc: ment Phenomenon “I hear that a car is coming.”

(27)

Ich höre ein Auto kommen. I hear a car come Senser Proc: ment Phenomenon “I hear a car coming.”

In all Senser-Phenomenon configurations, irrespective of whether they are affection, perception or cognition processes, the Phenomenon can potentially be realized as a nominal group (25), a dass-clause (26) or an infinitival clause (27). However, generally in all process types, the option of realizing a participant as a minor clause is restricted in German (cf. Hawkins 1986, about how raising constructions are much more common in English than in German). Where German shows more variation than English is in the realization of participants with thatclauses (dass-clauses), which can be either complement clauses (as in (26)) or embedded clauses (see examples (28) and (29)).10 In examples (28) and (29), the second participants are realized by the proforms es and davor, respectively, and the dass-clause is thus embedded. Constructions of this kind are rather typical of German mental processes. (28)

Ich finde es schrecklich, dass er so viel trinkt. I find it terrible that he so much drinks Sens Proc: ment Phen – Range – omenon “I find it terrible, that he drinks so much.”

(29)

Ihm graut davor, dass er ins Krankenhaus muss. him scare-3sg thereof that he to the hospital must Senser Proc: ment Phenomenon “He is afraid of having to go to hospital.”

Furthermore, there is the possibility of a Beneficiary in mental processes. Examples (30) to (33) exemplify the range of options for cognition processes, including the option of a Beneficiary (shown in examples (31) and (32)). (30)

Er glaubt, dass ich nicht spät nachhause gegangen bin. he believes that I not late home go-past am Sen Pro: me Phenomenon “He believes that I didn’t go home late.”


(31)

Er glaubt mir. he believes me Senser Process: mental Beneficiary “He believes me.”

(32)

Er glaubt mir, he believes me Senser Process: mental Beneficiary “He believes me, dass ich nicht spät nachhause gegangen bin that I not late home go-past am Phenomenon that I didn’t go home late.”

(33)

Er glaubt der Messias zu sein. he believes the Messiah to be Senser Process: mental Phenomenon “He believes himself to be the Messiah.”

The Senser in processes of cognition shows the same potential of realization as in affection and perception processes: it may be conflated with Subject in active voice and carry nominative case (‘actor-like-senser’), with the Direct Object and thus be realized in accusative case (‘goal-like-senser’) or with an Indirect Object (realized in dative case (‘beneficiary-like-senser’). Examples (34) to (36) illustrate cognition processes. (34)

Ich kenne 1sg-nom know Senser Process: mental: cognition Subject Finite/Predicator “I know the book.”

das Buch. the book Phenomenon Complement

(35)

Die Geschichte überzeugt the story convinces Phenomenon Process: mental Subject Finite/Predicator “The story convinces me.”

(36)

Mir scheint, dass er sehr unsicher ist. 1sg-dat seem-3sg that he very insecure is Senser Process: mental Phenomenon Complement Finite/Predicator Subject “It seems to me that he is very insecure.”

mich. 1sg-acc Senser Complement

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 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

Note here that example (36) also has a raising variant, in which er acts as Subject: (37)

Er scheint (mir) sehr unsicher zu sein. he seem-3sg 1sg-dat very insecure to be Phen – Process: mental Senser – omenon “He seems (to me) to be very insecure.”

Also, mental processes can have two phenomena as participants, which can both be realized as clauses. The first seems to be an embedded clause in all the cases we have seen, and the second often has as agnates adjectival or nominal complements, so that this clause type has features of relational processes as well. Example (38) shows the clausal realization. (38)

Dass er so häufig fehlt kann nur bedeuten, dass er kein Interesse hat. that he so often fails can only mean that he has no interest Process: mental?? Phenomenon?? “That he is so often absent can only mean that he has no interest.”

Finally, there is a small set of mental processes, in which the Phenomenon is realized in genitive case, as in example (39). (39)

Wir gedenken seiner. we commemorate 3sg-gen Senser Process: mental Phenomenon “We commemorate him.”

The major options for mental processes are represented in Figure 3.2.

.. Verbal clauses Verbal processes share certain properties with mental ones, but they also have a number of distinctive properties. Just as with mental processes, where we make distinctions according to the kinds of realization of the Phenomenon, we distinguish three subtypes of verbal processes according to how the Verbiage is realized (shown in bold in the following examples): as a nominal group (40), as a dass-clause (41) or as a minor clause (42). (40)

Sie erzählte ihre Geschichte. she told her story Sayer Process: verbal Verbiage “She told her story.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

Figure 3.2 Mental processes in German

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(41)

Sie sagte, dass sie von weit her gekommen sei. she said that she had come a long way Sayer Process: verbal Verbiage “She said that she had come a long way.”

(42)

Sie empfahl einen anderen Kurs zu besuchen. she recommended another course to attend Sayer Process: verbal Verbiage “She recommended attending another course.”

Again, it seems that realization of the Verbiage by an infinitival clause as in example (42) is less common than realization by finite clauses. Examples (40), (41) and (42) may all have a Receiver, which is realized in dative case. Also, the Verbiage can be optional:11 (43)

Sie schrieb. she wrote Sayer Process: verbal “She wrote.”

(44)

Sie schrieb ihm (einen Brief ). she wrote him a letter Sayer Process: verbal Receiver Verbiage “She wrote him (a letter).”

Comparing German to English once more, examples (45) and (46) below illustrate the fact that German Subjects are rather restricted semantically. In the English (45a), the Sayer of a verbal process occupies the Subject function without any problems. This is problematic in German because the Sayer is a non-conscious being (Textbücher – “text books”). In translations from English we thus often find that the Subject of the original becomes a Circumstance in the German translation (as in (45b) and (46b)) and/or there is a relocation in voice type from active to passive (as in (45b)). It therefore seems that verbal processes in particular are rather literally interpreted in German, whereas in English they are interpreted more generally as symbolic processes. (45) a.

Textbooks represent this process as . . . Sayer Process: verbal Verbiage Circumstance Subject Finite/Predicator Complement Adjunct


b.

(46) a.

b.

In Textbüchern wird dieser Prozess als . . . in textbooks becomes this process as . . . Circumstance Process: – Verbiage Circ Adjunct Finite Subject Adjunct “In textbooks this process is represented as . . . ”

dargestellt. represented – verbal Predicator

The sign says stop. Sayer Process: verbal Verbiage Subject Finite/Predicator Complement Auf dem Schild steht Stop. on the sign stands stop Circumstance Process: verbal Verbiage Adjunct Finite/Predicator Subject “The sign says stop.”

Finally, there is a subtype of verbal processes with a Verbiage only. See example (47), where the grammatical Subject (es) is “empty”, i.e., it does not serve a participant function.12 (47)

Es heisst, dass er nach Australien ausgewandert ist. it says that he to Australia emigrated is Sayer Proc: verb Verbiage Subj Fin/Pred Complement “They say he has emigrated to Australia.”

.. Relational clauses For relational processes13 we can make a primary division into intensive, circumstantial and possessive. See examples (48) to (50). (48)

Silvia ist schlau. Silvia is smart Carrier Process: relational: intensive & attributive Attribute “Silvia is smart.”

(49)

Die Tagung findet an einem Wochenende statt. the conference takes on a weekend place Carrier Proc: rel: – Attribute: circumstantial – circ & att “The conference takes place on a weekend.”

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 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(50)

Peter hat ein Saxophon. Peter has a saxophone Carrier Proc: rel: poss & att Attribute: possession “Peter has a saxophone.”

Example (48) is intensive, (49) is circumstantial and (50) is possessive. Intensive, circumstantial and possessive processes can either be identifying or attributive. Examples (48) to (50) are all attributive. Examples (51) to (53) below are identifying processes. (51)

Herr Müller ist der Chef. Mr Müller is the boss Identified Proc: rel: int & id Identifier “Mr Muller is the boss.”

(52)

Morgen ist der erst Mai. tomorrow is the first of May Identified Proc: rel: circ & id Identifier: circumstantial “Tomorrow is the first of May.”

(53)

Das Saxophon ist meins. the saxophone is mine Identified Proc: rel: poss & id Identifier: possessor “The saxophone is mine.”

Semantically, the difference between identifying and attributive processes is the following. In identifying processes, there are two participants, one that is identified (the Identified) and another one that serves to identify the other (the Identifier). This Identifier is a one-member set (e.g. der Chef – “the boss”). Structurally, the Identifier is usually realized as a definite nominal group (as in example (51)). Attributive processes have two structural elements as well, the Carrier and the Attribute, but only one semantic participant. For example in (53), the only participant is Silvia, who is assigned the property of being smart, or, in other words, who is said to belong to the many-membered set of smart people. Given that attributive processes only have one semantic participant, they are generally not passivizable (cf. Halliday 1985), and neither are German identifying processes, at least not in terms of a morphological passive verbal group. In German identifying processes, it is always clear which of the Identifier or the Identified assumes the role of Subject or Subject Complement, respectively. Consider example (54): in German, agreement between Finite and Subject marks the Subject (wir) unambiguously.14

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

(54)

Die größte Gruppe sind the biggest group be-1pl Identifier Proc: rel: int & id Subject Complement Finite/Predicator “The biggest group are we.”

wir. 1pl-nom Identified Subject

In German intensive and possessive identifying processes, we again find the whole spectrum of cases for the realization of participants. See examples (55) to (56). (55)

Die Tochter ähnelt the daughter-nom resembles Identified Proc: rel: int & id Subject Finite/Predicator “The daughter resembles the father.”

(56)

Dieses Recht steht this right belongs Identified Proc: rel: poss – Subject Finite/Pred – “This right belongs to us.”

dem Vater. the father-dat Identifier Complement

uns 1sg-dat Identifier Complement

zu. to – & att – icator

In example (55), an intensive process, the Identifier (dem Vater) is realized as a nominal group in dative case; in (56), a possessive process, the Identifier is also realized in dative case. When the Identifier is a Subject Complement, it is realized in nominative case (as in example (51)). In attributive processes, we also find realization of the Attribute with accusative case, as in (57), which exemplifies a possessive attributive process. (57)

Peter besitzt Peter owns Carrier Proc: rel: poss & att Subject Finite/Predicator “Peter owns a saxophone.”

ein Saxophon. a saxophone-acc Attribute Complement

.. Material clauses Finally, let us turn to material processes. As mentioned above, German material processes potentially have an Actor and a Goal. Material processes with a Goal are divided into ‘dispositive’ and ‘creative’. If there is a Beneficiary in a dispositive process, it will act like a Recipient; in creative processes, it will act like a Client. Often this difference is also reflected in the choice of lexical verb. See examples (58), which is a creative process, and (59), which is a dispositive process.

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(58)

Er backte ihr einen Kuchen. he-nom baked her-dat a cake-acc Actor Proc: mat: creative Client Goal “He baked her a cake.”

(59)

Sie verschenkte das Buch an Christian. she-nom gave-as-present the book-acc to Christian-dat Actor Process: mat: disp Goal Recipient “She gave the book to Christian.”

In passivization, either the Goal or the Beneficiary can be put into Theme position: (60)

Das Buch wurde Ulrike the book became Ulrike Goal Process: – Recipient Subject Finite Complement “The book was given to Ulrike.”

geschenkt. given – mat: disp Predicator

(61)

Ihr wurde ein Buch her-dat became a book Recipient Process: – Goal Complement Finite Subject “To her a book was given.”

geschenkt. given – mat: disp Predicator

The alternations between definite and indefinite articles (das Buch, ein Buch) and the use of pronominalization in these examples make the sentences textually more plausible. Note here again that in fronting through passivization, the Beneficiary remains an Indirect Object (61). Furthermore, there is a subclass of material processes in which the Goal is realized with dative case thus assuming the function of Indirect Object, as in example (62). (62)

Er folgte mir. he followed me-dat Actor Process: material Goal “He followed me.”

One characteristic feature of the German transitivity system can perhaps be best explained by comparison with English. According to Halliday (1985), the English transitivity system is a mixture of the transitive model and the ergative one. This is evidenced by patterns such as those in example (63).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

(63) a.

b.

He opened the door. Actor Process Goal Agent Process Medium The door opened. Actor Process Medium Process

This exemplifies the ergative pattern, in which the second participant of the transitive variant (63a) is treated like the participant of the middle variant (63b). In the former, the participant configuration is Agent + Medium, in the latter there is a Medium only. In German, this alternation is possible, but additional syntactic means are needed: the process is reflexivized. See example (64). (64) a.

b.

Er öffnete die Tür. he opened the door Actor Process: material Goal Agent Process Medium “He opened the door.” Die Tür öffnete sich. the door opened refl-3sg Actor Process Medium Process “The door opened.”

Also, German has truly intransitive verbs. English, in contrast, exhibits more flexibility: the transitive-intransitive alternation is very productive and a class of intransitive-only verbs can hardly be detected. For illustration, see example (65), which gives the German process spazierengehen (intransitive), and examples (66a) and (66b), showing the English equivalent walk in its intransitive and transitive alternations. (65)

Sie ging spazieren. she went to-walk Actor Process: material “She walked.”

(66) a. b.

She Actor She Actor

walked. Process: material walked the dog. Process Goal

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

Again, in German, for an intransitive process to be “transitivized”, additional syntactic means are needed, e.g. adding a marker of causation such as lassen (“let”) or, as in example (67), führen (“lead”). (67)

Sie führte den Hund spazieren. she led the dog to walk Actor Process: – Goal – material “She walked the dog.”

In summary, the German transitivity system is rather strictly transitively organized: while the ergative pattern exists, it is realized by more complex syntactic means than in English.

.. Text illustration Finally, let us illustrate some of the major transitivity options of German by two sample texts. The first is from a narrative text by Alfred Andersch, Die Rote (“The Reds”), the second is an expository text taken from an article by Dieter E. Zimmer on the spelling reform (from the newspaper Die Zeit, published on 10/6/99). The narrative text extract shows a diversity of process types, whereas the extract from the expository text shows a relational organization.15 Text 3.2 From Alfred Andersch, Die Rote “The Reds” (1)

Zu seinen Füssen hockend, at his feet sitting Circumstance Process: material “Sitting at his feet,”

(2)

erzählte sie ihre Geschichte der Nacht und einem Fremden, told she her story the night and a stranger Proc: verb Sayer Verbiage Receiver “she told her story to the night and to a stranger,”

(3)

der auf so eine übertriebene Art und Weise ein Mann who in such an overstated way a man Carrier Circumstance Attribute war, was Proc: rel: int & att “who was a man in such an overstated way,

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

(4)

dass sie ihn nicht zu fürchten brauchte. that she-nom him-acc not to fear needed Senser Phenomenon Process: mental “that she didn’t have to fear him.”

(5)

Sie machte es kurz; she made it short Attributor Proc: rel: int & att Carrier Attribute “She made it short;”

(6)

obwohl sie ihm nichts verschwieg, even though she him-dat nothing conceal Sayer Receiver Verbiage . . . Proc: verbal nicht einmal ihre angst vor einer Schwangerschaft, not even her fear of pregnancy . . . Verbiage “even though she didn’t hide anything from him, not even her fear of pregnancy,”

(7)

war sie schon zu Ende, was she already at an end Proc: rel: att Carrier Circ Attribute: circ “she had ended”

(8)

als sie ihre Zigarette fertig geraucht hatte. when she her cigarette finished smoked had Actor Goal Attrib: resultative Process: material “when her cigarette was finished.”

(9)

Sie erhob sich. she rose refl-3sg Actor Process: material “She rose.”

Clause (1) in Text 3.1 is a material process with a non-realized Actor only; (2) is a verbal process with a Sayer + Verbiage + Receiver configuration; (3) is a relational: attributive process; and (4) is a mental process with the Senser in nominative case and the Phenomenon in accusative case. Clause (5) is a relational: attributive process, and (6) is a verbal process clause, again with a Sayer, a Verbiage and a Receiver (the latter not realized in the English version). Clause (7) is a relational: attributive process, (8) is an example of a material process with an Actor, a Goal and a resultative Attribute, and (9) is a material process with an Actor only, realized in a reflexive verb.

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

Text 3.3 From an article by Dieter E. Zimmer in Die Zeit (“The Times”) 10/6/99 (1)

Nach kurzen Vokal steht jetzt ss statt ß; after short vowels stands now ss instead of ß Identifier: circ Proc: rel: circ & id Circ Id’d Circ “Short vowels are followed by ss now instead of ß;”

(2)

nach langem Vokal oder Diphthong steht weiterhin ß. after long vowels and diphthongs stands continued ß Identifier: circumstantial Proc: rel: circ & id Identified “after long vowels or diphthongs we continue to use ß.”

(3)

Dieses ist die einzige neue Regel. this is the only new rule Identified Proc: rel: int & id Identifier “This is the only new rule,”

(4)

die im Schriftbild anfangs auffallen wird. that in typography at first to stand-out becomes Actor Circumstance Circumstance Process: material “that will be conspicuous in typography at first,”

(5)

denn sie ist in normalen Texten because it-f is in normal texts Carrier Proc: rel: int & att Circumstance für über 90 Prozent der Änderungsfälle verantwortlich. for over 90% of the instances of change responsible Circumstance Attribute “because it constitutes over 90% of the instances of change.”

(6)

Für viele wird mit dieser einen neuen Regel for many becomes with this one new rule Circumstance Process: – Circumstance die Rechtschreibenreform auch schon enden . . . the spelling reform also already end Goal Circumstance Circumstance – material “For many of us, the spelling reform will end with this one new rule . . . ”

(7)

Das einfache s im Wortauslaut bleibt unverändert. the simple s in word-endings remains unaffected Carrier Proc: rel: int & att Attribute “Simple s in word endings remains unaffected.”

Most of the processes in Text 3.3 are relational: the process in (1) and (2) are circumstantial and identifying; the process in (3) is intensive and identifying, and the

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

processes in (5) and (7) are intensive and attributive. The other two processes, in clauses (4) and (6), are material. In summary, the shape of the German transitivity system correlates with other typological properties of the language. First, the relation between participant roles and syntactic functions in German is rather tight. This shows in the availability of the kinds of alternations that change this relation, like raising or passivization. With passivization, we have seen that in German only those participant functions that are conflated with Direct Objects can become Subjects. Second, non-agentive Subjects are quite rare in German (see again examples (45b) and (46b) for verbal processes; cf. Hawkins 1986). Finally, the system of morphological case is used extensively for distinguishing process types.

. The theme system and theme structure .. The theme system in text Let us begin this section with two excerpts from texts to illustrate some of the main characteristics of Theme in German. These include strong restrictions on multiple Themes, a relatively weak notion of markedness, together with a relatively wide potential of unmarked Themes in terms of participant and circumstantial roles, the possibility of having a relatively unmarked conflation of Theme with Finite in indicatives, and possibilities of experiential Themes where Theme is conflated with one, several, or only parts of some experiential function. The first excerpt come from the introductory section of a linguistics textbook by Siegfried Jäger (1993: 9ff.). The second text comes from an article by Thomas Fischermann and Oliver Schuhmacher in the German weekly news magazine Die Zeit (“The Times”) published on 27/5/99: Vertreibung aus dem Paradies. Die Industrieländer wehren sich gegen den Exodus der Steuerzahler – bisher mit mäßigem Erfolg (“Expulsion from the Paradise. The Industrial Nations are Defending themselves against the Exodus of the Taxpayer – so far with Limited Success”). Themes are marked by bold throughout (with the single exception of (10), where we use underlining for one Theme inside a thematic clause, to bring out the structure), but for main clauses only. Our examples in this section are taken from these two excerpts, whenever possible. Occasionally, we will use constructed variants to illustrate types of Theme not occurring in the sample texts. Space constraints do not allow us to investigate thematic structure inside dependent clauses. Text 3.4 Einleitung “Introduction” (1) Es geht mir in dieser Einführung in die kritische Diskursanalyse darum, einen neuen integrierten sozialwissenschaftlich-linguistischen Ansatz für eine

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

Diskurstheorie und – darauf aufbauend – eine Methode von Diskursanalyse zu entwickeln, der die traditionellen primär strukturalistisch orientierten Ansätze der Sprachwissenschaft, die heute noch bis in die Textlinguistik hinein dominieren, ebenso überwindet wie solche Ansätze, die im Rahmen qualitativer Sozialforschung entwickelt worden sind. It concerns me in this introduction to critical discourse analysis, a new integrated sociological-linguistic approach for a discourse theory and – on that building – a method of discourse analysis to develop, which the traditional primarily structuralistically oriented approaches of linguistics, which today still in text-linguistics dominate, supersedes as well as such approaches, which have been developed in the framework of qualitative social science research. (2) Da beide Disziplinen, ebenso wie die Diskursanalyse, auch den Anspruch stellen, Grundsätzliches über den Zusammenhang von Gesellschaft und Sprache/Kommunikation auszusagen, werde ich mich im ersten Teil dieses Textes exemplarisch kritisch mit einigen Grundannahmen der (Sozio-) Linguistik und der (qualitativen) Sozialforschung auseinandersetzen. Zunächst jedoch einige Vorbemerkungen zur Linguistik allgemein: Because both disciplines, in the same way as discourse analysis, also make the claim to proclaim fundamentals about the relationship between society and language/communication, will I myself in the first part of this text exemplificatorily critically with some basic assumptions of (socio-) linguistics and of qualitative social research engage. At first however some preliminary remarks on linguistics: (3) Aufgefallen ist mir insbesondere, dass linguistische Konzepte aller Art dazu neigen, die mit Hilfe sprachlicher Mittel transportierten Inhalte auf der Mikround Makroebene zu vernachlässigen bzw. programmatisch aus der Linguistik auszuschließen. Impressed has me particularly, that linguistic concepts of all kinds tend towards the with help of linguistic means transported contents on the microand macro-levels to neglect respectively programmatically from linguistics to exclude. (4) Mit den Inhalten wird aber zugleich alles Gesellschaftliche aus der Linguistik vertrieben. . . . With the contents is however at the same time everything social from linguistics expelled. . . . (5) Diese Position gilt es zu überwinden, auch wenn sie im Selbstverständnis der meisten Linguisten noch zutiefst verankert ist[. . . ]


This position necessitates it to overcome, even if it in the opinion of most linguists still deeply rooted is [. . . ] (6) Man benutzt beim Sprechen/Denken im Sozialisationsprozess erworbene Routinen, ähnlich wie der Autofahrer beim Schalten im allgemeinen routinehaft reagiert und nicht darüber nachdenkt, was er da eigentlich macht und warum er das tut. One uses in speaking/thinking in the process of socialization acquired routines, similarly to how the car driver in switching gear in general routinely reacts and not thinks about, what he here in fact does and why he it does. (7) Was nicht unbedingt nur Routine ist, das ist das im Bewusstsein gespeicherte und erarbeitete Wissen. What not necessarily only routine is, that is the in consciousness stored and produced knowledge. Text 3.5 Vertreibung aus dem Paradies “Expulsion from Paradise” (1) Als besonders ruppig gelten die Finanzpolizisten der Vereinigten Staaten. As particularly harsh appear the finance detectives of the United States. (2) Am Rande der Legalität haben die Amerikaner schon Verdächtige im Privatflugzeug oder beim Transit durch die USA verhaftet. At the margin of legality have the Americans already suspects in the private plane or in transit through the USA apprehended. (3) Ihre schlimmste Drohung ist allerdings, Überweisungen aus Steueroasen zu blockieren oder Banken die US-Lizenz zu entziehen – Their most serious threat is, however, transfers from tax oases to block or from banks US-licenses to withdraw – (4) manchmal reicht schon ein Schreiben wie im Fall von Antigua. sometimes suffices a letter as in the case of Antigua. (5) Als Ermittler Infos aus einem karibischen Finanzinstitut herauspressen wollten, setzten sie die US-Schwesterfiliale unter Druck: When detectives infos from a Carribean finance institute enforce wanted, put they the US-sister office under pressure: (6) Bis alle Informationen vorlagen, wurde täglich eine fünfstellige Dollarstrafe fällig. Until all information was available, became every day a five-digit dollar fine due. (7) Das half. That helped.



 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(8) Selbst Nichtregierungsorganisationen wie die Antikorruptionsgruppe Transparency International (TI) mischen im Abwehrkampf mit Even non-government organizations like the anti-corruption group Transparencey International (TI) take part in the defence (9) und tragen weltweit Erkenntnisse über die Geldschieberei zusammen. and collect world-wide information about the money dealings together. (10) “Für die Verschwiegenheit der Off-shore-Zentren gibt es kaum ehrenhafte Begründungen”, sagt Londons TI-Repräsentant Jeremy Pope. “For the secrecy of the off-shore centres gives it hardly honourable reasons”, says London’s TI-representative Jeremy Pope. (11) Stumpf geworden sind etliche alte Waffen der Staaten. Blunt become have many old weapons of the states. (12) Zollfahnder an der Grenze nach Luxemburg landen höchstens mal Zufallstreffer . . . Customs officers on the border to Luxemburg achieve maximally sometimes a chance success . . . (13) Steueroasen sind bisweilen ein unsicheres Versteck. Tax oases are sometimes an unsafe hiding place. (14) Es mangelt an einer verlässlichen Justiz, There lacks a reliable legal system, (15) und windige Berater treiben ihr Unwesen. and dubious consultants are doing business. As far as thematic development is concerned, both texts illustrate that German has several types of relatively unmarked Themes. They also exemplify types of Themes which are marked and thus particularly newsworthy and emphatic. The first text, being an instance of academic writing, relies on relatively complex phrases with their associated potential for thematicity, whereas the second has shorter phrases, but still a wide range of types of Themes, and a range different from that in the first text. Most of our examples in this section will be taken from these two texts. We will first consider a classification of Themes in German and then the interaction between the theme system and some other areas of grammar. Some typological and historical explanations are postponed to the end of this section. Our description of theme draws on accounts in Engel (1988), Heidolph, Flämig & Motsch (1981) and Weinrich (1993), as well as, in particular, Hoberg (1981) and Erdmann (1990a, b). In terms of these accounts, we are dealing with Vorfeld rather than with Thema. That is to say, we will not follow suggestions to assume a functional boundary between Thema and Rhema in German after the first post-verbal position in indicative clauses, although that seems to be the borderline

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

Figure 3.3 theme type in German

between “identifiable” and “non-identifiable”, as evidenced by the fact that this first post-verbal position is the default place of realization for identifiable discourse referents, such as pronouns and definite phrases (cf. clauses (1), (2), (3) and (5) from Text 3.4 and clause (5) from Text 3.5) above. This, however, seems to be a question of informational, rather than of thematic meaning.16 Let us begin with a classification of the major types of Themes in German declarative clauses. Themes in German may be ‘simple’ (e.g. clauses (3), (4) and (5) in Text 3.4) or ‘multiple’ (e.g. clause (15) in Text 3.5) (cf. the theme type system in Figure 3.3 on page 173). Note that example (68) below is different from clause (15) in Text 3.5 above, in that adverbs and particles as elements realizing conjunctive relations – different from the conjunction und in clause (15) – yield a clause obeying the fairly strong verb-second constraint and thus do not lead to multiple Themes. Conjunctions of the type of und are not part of the constituent structure of the clause, whereas other types of cohesive units are, which explains the difference (cf. our interpretation of adverbial clauses as Themes which is consistent with this in Steiner & Ramm 1995: 75f.).

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(68)

Außerdem treiben windige Berater ihr Unwesen. besides do-3pl dubious consultants their business Circumstance Process Actor Goal Theme Rheme “Besides, dubious consultants are doing their business.”

As for multiple Themes, they cannot cover all three metafunctional types, largely because of the strong preference for second position of the finite verb in German main clauses, other than in cases like clause (15) in Text 3.5. Structure within the textual Theme is shown in example (69), and within the interpersonal Theme in (70): (69)

Also und deshalb habe ich ihn nicht eingeladen. well and therefore have I him not invited Pro – Actor Goal – cess Theme Rheme “Well, and therefore I haven’t invited him.”

(70)

Freunde vielleicht habt ihr das Problem bald gelöst. friends perhaps have you the problem soon solved. Pro – Actor Goal Circ – cess Theme Rheme “Friends, perhaps you will have soon solved the problem.”

Multiple Themes occur as the combination of two of the three metafunctional types, or else as the type ‘experiential-multiple’ (cf. clause (11) in Text 3.5 above, where Theme is conflated with Lexical Process plus Attribute). Simple Themes, on the other hand, fall into a number of interesting subtypes: they extend either over one constituent (clause (6) in Text 3.4 and many others above), or more than one (clause (7) in Text 3.4, and clause (8) in Text 3.5); they may be ‘predicated’ (as in example (72) below) or ‘non-predicated’; and if ‘non-predicated’, they are either ‘identifying’, as in clause (7) in Text 3.4, repeated below as example (71), or other. ‘Theme: simple: experiential: non-predicated: identifying’ (71)

Was nicht unbedingt nur Routine ist das im Buwusstein gespeicherte ist, (das) und erarbeitete Wissen. what not necessarily only routine is, is the in consciousness stored and (that) produced knowledge Theme Rheme “What is not necessarily only routine, (that) in the knowledge stored and produced in consciousness.”

Note that the bracketed (das) is a support-form, which is not obligatory.


‘Theme: simple: experiential: predicated’ (72)

Es ist das im Bewusstein gespe- was nicht nur Routine ist. icherte und erarbeitete Wissen, it is the in consciousness stored and which not just routine is produced knowledge Theme Rheme “It is the knowledge stored and produced in consciousness, which is not only routine.”

Example (71) also occurs in its reversed form, as shown below: ‘Theme: simple: experiential: non-predicated: identifying (reversed)’ (73)

Das im Bewusstein gespeicherte was nicht nur Routine ist. und erarbeitete Wissen ist es, the in consciousness stored and what not just routine is produced knowledge is it, Theme Rheme “The knowledge stored and produced in the consciousness is it what is not just routine.”

Note, however, the predicated Themes (72) and reversed identifying Themes (73) are just word-order variants, because of the use of es in German (different from English it), and because of differences in grammatical concord not demonstrated here. Let us, in a brief interlude, look at this paradigm comparing English and German. Both languages have the possibility of predicated, identifying, and reversed identifying Themes. For English, we note the possible ambiguities in number agreement of the verb. This can be explained partly by the particular structure of identifying predicates and clauses in English with their characteristic potential for reversibility (cf. e.g. Halliday 1985: 113f.), and partly as a consequence of the syntactic function of the constituent under focus inside the wh-clause (cf. Erdmann 1990a: 176f.). The German examples do not show any such ambiguity. In the second place, German shows a structural relationship between reversedidentifying-Theme clauses and clauses with a predicated Theme: the latter can be interpreted as something like an extraposition variant of the former, which is also shown by the choice of the was-relative pronoun for these two clause-types. Let us also add a note on predicated Themes and identifying Themes in German, as far as their range of realizations and their frequency is concerned (cf. Erdmann 1990b: 70ff.): The range of participant roles that can be predicated Themes seems to be narrower in German than in English, as shown in examples (74) and (75).

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 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(74)

It was out of fear that he did it. predicated Theme Rheme

(75) ?Es war aus Furcht, dass er es tat. “It was out of fear that he did it.” Their frequencies are different, and the constituents that are focused are distributed in quite different ways. In the case of identifying Themes, on the other hand, German allows a wider range of constituents to be directly referred to by w-elements than English (wer “who”, wessen “whose”, wem “to whom”, wen “whom”, wo(nach) “after what”, wo(ran) “at what”, etc.). The overall effect is that identical textual functions, such as focusing and thematizing, are often expressed in the two languages by different lexicogrammatical means, even where the same range of constructions is potentially available. There are different kinds of typological explanations, such as the different mappings of arguments onto syntactic functions in the two languages (cf. Hawkins 1986), or the different functional roles of the pre-verbal positions in English and German (cf. Erdmann 1990a), or even the processing-related assumption of constituent recognition domains in the two languages (cf. Hawkins 1992; though this can only be used as an indirect explanation, as the hypothesis is made about order in the Mittelfeld, i.e. the field between Finite and the clausefinal elements of the verbal group, rather than about the Theme position directly. We assume that the Finite functions as a transition between Theme and Rheme, as does Firbas 1964). An interesting type of simple Theme that is structurally possible in German is exemplified in clause (1) in Text 3.4 and clause (14) in Text 3.5 above, where it is a consequence of the type of process involved. A more drastic version is shown in example (76), a modified variant of clause (4) in Text 3.5. ‘Theme: simple: theme-on-finite’ (76)

Es reicht manchmal schon ein Schreiben wie im Fall von Antigua. it suffices sometimes already a letter, as in the case of Antigua Theme Rheme “A letter is sometimes sufficient, as in the case of Antigua.”

The es is non-referential; example (76) realizes the ‘theme-on-finite’ option for ‘simple’ Themes in indicative clauses. It will not appear on the ideational dimension of the analysis at all. The Finite reicht realizes the present, active, indicative, third person, singular meanings in its inflection, as well as the lexical process, and this is what is thematized here. Note that in cases where the Finite is an auxiliary, this type of Theme is not conflated with the lexical process, but only with the meanings of the inflected auxiliary. This type of construction works across process types, but is constrained through identifiability of the Subject. As could be

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

Figure 3.4 THEME-MARKEDNESS in German

expected, only non-identifiable Subjects lend themselves easily to that type of construction because fully identifiable referents need some special features, such as contrastive focus, in order to become new information easily. This construction is in some ways close to the presentational es gibt (“there is”, literally “it gives”) construction in its function and semantics, but not in its structure.

.. theme markedness Let us turn to a consideration of theme-markedness now. For unmarked Themes in main clauses we seem to have four different possibilities (cf. Figure 3.4 above). The option of conflating Theme with the first participant role is exemplified in clause (6) from Text 3.4 and clauses (7) and (8) from Text 3.5 above, but also in example (77) below, where the first role is a Senser realized in dative case (cf. Steiner and Ramm 1995: 87–89, for the introduction of participant role hierarchies marking preference of roles for status of unmarked Theme). Clauses (4), (5) and (6) in Text 3.5 above exemplify unmarked circumstantial Themes, while example (78) shows an unmarked textual, and example (79) an unmarked interpersonal Theme.17

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

(77)

Mir ist kalt. me-dat is cold Senser Proc: mental Phenomenon Theme Rheme “I am cold.”

(78)

Trotzdem haben wir ein große Aufgabe. nevertheless have we a big task Theme: unmarked: textual Rheme “Nevertheless we have a big task.”

(79)

Vielleicht haben wir ein große Aufgabe. possibly have we a big task Theme: unmarked: interpersonal Rheme “Possibly we have a big task.”

The notion of markedness can be understood either in terms of frequency, or in terms of leading to unmarked intonation. A third interpretation of the distinction is that any marked Theme clause has at least one extra feature motivating the linear sequence of its elements, i.e. one extra feature is needed to override the default word order. There is a relatively wide range of functions which can be conflated with unmarked, or relatively unmarked, Themes, and if they are non-Subject functions, then the Subject occupies a post-finite position – which dramatically reduces any pressure towards multiple Themes. The fact that the notion of markedness for German Themes is so finely differentiated and graded may be taken to indicate that it is of less classificatory value for this area of German grammar. All Themes other than those exemplified above are marked. Importantly, we are looking here at the theme-markedness system for declarative clauses only. The system and its realizations look quite different in the environment of imperative or interrogative clauses, which is not surprising for a polysystemic approach. Finally, we want to mention the possibility of Themes that are smaller or larger in extent than groups (cf. example (80) below and clause (11) in Text 3.5 above, respectively): (80)

Leute kamen viele. people came many Theme Rheme “Many people came.”

This range of structural possibilities is further enlarged by the possibility of thematizing experiential or interpersonal material from non-local clauses in cases of projection and raising (cf. Steiner 1992), even if these possibilities are relatively restricted in German.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

.. Other features of Theme Let us conclude our very brief account of Theme in German with a few pointers to other characteristics. In imperative clauses, the thematic options are very much reduced (cf. Steiner 1994, for a cross-linguistic comparison involving English, German, Spanish and Russian). In polar interrogatives, the Theme has to be conflated with Finite, which means Finite plus Process in simple present and simple past tense. In a w-interrogative, the Theme is the w-element, though without the possibility of preposition stranding. Moving on to diathesis and passive voice, we find that the unmarked Theme is either the second participant role on the role list (conflated with Direct Object in active clauses), or else the third role as a more marked Theme, but the latter cannot be conflated with Subject as for example in English. This is just a special case of the generalization that German syntactic functions are strongly constrained as to the range of participant roles they can be conflated with (cf. Hawkins 1986). Apart from these possibilities, the so-called impersonal passive allows the option of having the Theme conflated with the Finite again, as in example (81): (81)

Es ist viel getanzt worden. it is much danced became Theme Rheme “There has been a lot of dancing.”

As for the interaction of transitivity with theme, and restricting ourselves to active voice, we find that where we have Beneficiary-like Sensers and Beneficiarylike Carriers (both realized in dative case), these can easily become unmarked Themes. The same holds true for embedded propositional arguments. Altogether, and as in other languages, it needs to be remembered that a whole range of factors contributes to accessibility of a participant role for Theme status, among them identifiability, animacy, weight, etc. Explanation for typological properties such as those just identified can be sought in one or more of several areas (cf. Keller 1997, and many others): the history of languages, structural and/or functional typologies of languages and their comparison, the assumed structure and functioning of cognition, assumed sociosemiotic cross-cultural and cross-media parameters, etc. We will take some very small initial steps here, restricting ourselves to the area of Theme at the moment. German has a relatively strong preference for having the finite verb in second position in main clauses. Therefore, restrictions on multiple Themes are tight, except for the apparent counter-example of German multiple experiential Themes. The latter can be accommodated by an SFL analysis by stipulating that what gets thematized here is precisely the Residue function of the interpersonal component. The Subject never gets thematized in these cases, so that we would have second

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

position of the Finite again – although, admittedly, we have crossed over from the experiential into the interpersonal function in this way, and it is not the Subject in German which realizes the Mood element together with Finite, but rather the position of the Finite itself. The Subject in German does not have a high functional load for expressing Mood, and is therefore not tied to a pre-verbal position in declaratives. For the same reason, German has no obligatory ideational element within the Theme. The functional load remaining for the Subject thus is that of marking modal responsibility, together with the Finite. In the course of history (cf. Section 3.1), German has preserved its strong inflection encoding case and other grammatical categories to a greater extent than English. Related to this development may be the fact that participant roles can only be conflated with quite restricted sets of grammatical functions (cf. Doherty 1991; Hawkins 1986). The Subject, in particular, is restricted as to the set of participant roles it can be conflated with. As a consequence of this, conflating some participant role with Theme in German is usually achieved through word order alone, rather than through conflating that role with Subject in a process of grammatical metaphor, or through diathesis (alternations). The relatively free word order of German allows this easily. One instance of this overall tendency is the impossibility of having Beneficiary or Recipient or Client roles as Subjects of passives in German. Another one is the behaviour of Beneficiary-like Sensers and Carriers as Themes. As we observed in our initial account of Theme in German, the range of semantic roles that can be predicated Themes seems to be relatively narrow in German (cf. Erdmann 1990a). This would be another instance of the generally strong restriction of German participant roles to conflation with morphologically congruent syntactic functions. We also observed that German allows a wide range of constituents to be directly referred to by w-elements in the case of identifying Themes (wer, wessen, wem, wen, wo(nach), wo(ran), etc.). This can be seen to be related to: (i) the fact that Theme in German can be conflated with a wide variety of syntactic functions in general; and (ii) the relatively small importance of linear precedence in encoding syntactic function.

. Conclusion and comments on methodology Let us briefly comment on the methodology we have adopted in our description of the German mood, transitivity and theme systems. Generally, our methodology has been a mixture of taking an “inside-out” perspective (motivation on the basis of grammatical realization, particularly from the syntagmatic axis) and an “outside-in” perspective, (motivation of grammatical classes from above in stratum (semantics, context)). This mixed motivation certainly applies to our account


of mood and transitivity. In describing the thematic potential of German, we have followed an “inside-out” method rather exclusively: for instance, we have assumed a relatively restricted, almost constituent-like notion of Theme by postulating a strict boundary before the Finite. The alternative here would have been to say that thematicity is a prosody manifesting itself throughout the clause and interacting heavily with information distribution and reference. As a result, questions of marking boundaries and maybe also of markedness would figure less prominently than they do in our approach. We would then tend towards statements to the effect that, for example, the boundary between more and less thematic information is, if we can draw it at all strictly, somewhere after the first post-finite element in German, and that other thematic information may occur even later (cf. for example the notion of communicative dynamism in Prague School work, as in Firbas 1964). In the area of Theme, we have deliberately opted for an “inside-out” approach, in an attempt to bring out what is lexicogrammatically different, rather than functionally similar, between languages. In the areas of mood and transitivity, on the other hand, the system networks presented are clearly mediated networks (cf. Martin 1987), in which less delicate classes are motivated from above in stratum (semantics) and more delicate classes tend to be motivated from the syntagmatic axis. Perhaps as a consequence of the more abstract, rather semantic motivation of the less delicate features, we observe that these can be considered shared across languages – certainly across English and German, and perhaps across other Germanic languages as well, maybe even across Indo-European languages. One of the most striking impressions that one gets from a typological outlook of the kind just indicated is that historical relatedness and typological closeness do not go together as directly as a simple view of a genetic relationship between languages would suggest. English and German, for example, are very closely related historically, having been separated for only approximately 1500 years, yet in terms of synchronic typology, German is closer to Russian in some respects than it is to English – even if German and English do bear the traces of being the close relatives which they are historically.

Notes . We are grateful to Robert Dale, Peter Erdmann, Jim Martin, Christian Matthiessen and Robert Spence for critical comments. . Note that this direct mapping does not apply everywhere in the grammar. A counterexample can be seen in the tense-system of the verbal group and its semantics. . Accounting for the selection of tones (intonation contours) would require us to include a treatment of key. For reasons of space, we can only describe the grammatical constraints of mood. For accounts of German key and tone see Pheby (1980).



 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich . German thus appears a mixture between two basic word orders: SVO and SOV. . In standard German reference grammars, verbal mood distinctions are made between imperative, indicative and subjunctive (Konjunktiv). Subjunctive mood has two subtypes: Konjunktiv I or indirektiver Konjunktiv (“indirective subjunctive”) and Konjunktiv II or restrictive Konjunktiv (“restrictive subjunctive”) (cf. Weinrich 1993). For both, there are synthetic and analytic forms. Restrictive subjunctive typically has past meaning, indirective subjunctive has present meaning. Uses of subjunctive include reported speech and hypothetical propositions (irrealis). . This observation relates to the classification of languages into pragmatic word order languages, in which the “psychological” Subject is grammatically marked (as for instance in Japanese) and grammatical word order languages, in which the “grammatical” Subject is marked, for example by placement in the front position of the clause, as in English (cf. Thompson 1978). . Taken from Macheiner (1995: 9); translation from Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea. . Also, the notion of syntactic function is useful for expressing generalizations across process types, e.g. for describing passivization. . German has two kinds of passives: Zustandspassiv (“state passive”) and Vorgangspassiv (“process passive”). Choice between the two types is partly determined by process type and partly by Aktionsart. . Note that German allows clause types with “modality-as-process” and “modulationas-process”, as exemplified in (29), where the Process is encoded by the modal verb muss (“must”). . Note that example (42) with a Receiver – Sie empfahl ihm einen anderen Kurs zu besuchen (“She recommended to him to attend another course”) – is a case of Subject-to-Object raising, whereas examples (33) and (39) above are Subject-to-Subject raising. . Another example of a one-participant process is given in clause (1) of Text 3.4. . For reasons of restricted space we cannot include system networks for relational, verbal and material processes. . Note that in English identifying processes, both Identifier and Identified can potentially be either Subject or Subject Complement, or in other words, there is Token-Value ambiguity (cf. Halliday 1985: 116) . Our translations in this section are only “gist-translations”, meant to provide the experiential “gist” of the text. . Our overview is based on Steiner and Ramm (1995), which can be consulted for substantially more coverage. A parallel account of the semantics of Theme for German can be found in Ramm et al. (1995). Our main methodological sources are Halliday (1985) and Matthiessen (1995) on Theme . The choice as to which class of experiential function is thematized in those cases where we have an experiential component in the Theme (nuclear versus non-nuclear participants and circumstances) has to be omitted here, but is covered in (for example) Ramm et al. (1995: 34–43) and in Steiner and Ramm (1995: 80ff.). For reasons of space, we will also have to omit a discussion of Themes in clause complexes, but see Steiner and Ramm 1995: 75–78.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of German 

In particular, in cases of clausal Themes as in clauses (5) and (6) in Text 3.5, we assume one thematic structure for the clause complex, but one or more information units, each of which will have unmarked intonation unless particular textual motivations (e.g. contrastive focus) dictate otherwise.

References Doherty, M. (1991). “Informationelle Holzwege: Ein Problem der Übersetzungswissenschaft [Informational garden paths: a problem for translation studies]”. Zeitschrift für Literturwissenschaft und Linguistik [Journal of Literature and Linguistics], 21(84), 30–49. Engel, U. (1988). Deutsche Grammatik [Germany grammar]. Heidelberg: Julius Groos Verlag. Erdmann, P. (1990a). Discourse and Grammar – Focussing and Defocussing in English. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Erdmann, P. (1990b). “Fokuskonstruktionen im Deutschen und Englischen [Focus constructions in Germany and English]”. In C. Gnutzmann (Ed.), Kontrastive Linguistik [Contrastive linguistics] (pp. 69–83). Frankfurt: Lang. Fawcett, R. P. (1980). Cognitive Linguistics and Social Interaction. Heidelberg and Exeter University: Julius Groos Verlag. Firbas, J. (1964). “From Comparative Word-order Studies”. Brno Studies in English, 4. Univerzita J. E. Purkyne. Halliday, M. A. K. (1968). “Notes on Transitivity and Theme in English”. Journal of Linguistics, 3(1); 3(2); 4(2). Halliday, M. A. K. (1985). An Introduction to Functional Grammar. London: Edward Arnold. (Second edition 1994). Halliday, M. A. K. & C. M. I. M. Matthiessen (1999). Construing Experience through Meaning: A language-based approach to cognition. London: Cassell. Hawkins, J. A. (1986). A Comparative Typology of English and Germany. London: Croom Helm. Hawkins, J. A. (1992). “Syntactic Weight versus Information Structure in Word Order Variation”. In J. Jacobs (Ed.), Informationsstruktur und Grammatik [Information structure and grammar] (= Sonderheft 4 Linguistische Berichte [Linguistics Report, Issue 4]) (pp. 196–219). Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag. Heidolph, K. E., W. Flämig & W. Motsch (1981). Grundzüge einer Deutschen Grammatik [Characteristics of Germany grammar]. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Helbig G. & J. Buscha (1988). Deutsche Grammatik. Ein Handbuch für den Ausländerunterricht. Leipzig: VEB Verlag Enzyklopädie. Hoberg, R. (1981). Die Wortstellung in der Geschriebenen Deutschen Gegenwartssprache [Word order in written contemporary Germany language]. München: Hueber. Jäger, Siegfried (1993). Kritische Diskursanalyse. Eine Einführung [Critical Discourse Analysis. An Introduction]. Duisburg: Duisburger Institut für Sprach- und Sozialforschung.

 Erich Steiner and Elke Teich

Keller, R. (1997). “In What Sense Can Explanations of Language Change Be Functional?” In J. Gvozdanovic (Ed.), Language Change and Functional Explanation (pp. 9–20). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Macheiner, J. (1995). Übersetzen. Ein Vademecum [Translation. A ready reference]. Frankfurt am Main: Eichborn Verlag. Martin, J. R. (1987). “The Meaning of Features in Systemic Linguistics”. In M. A. K. Halliday & R. P. Fawcett (Eds.), New Developments in Systemic Linguistics, Vol. 1 (pp. 14–40). London: Pinter. Matthiessen, C. M. I. M. (1995). Lexicogrammatical Cartography: English systems. Tokyo: International Language Sciences Publishers. Pheby, J. (1980). Intonation und Grammatik im Deutschen [Intonationa and grammar in German]. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag. (First edition 1969). Polenz, P. (1985). Deutsche Satzsemantik [German sentence semantics]. Berlin: de Gruyter. Ramm, W., A. Rothkegel, E. Steiner, & C. Villiger (1995). Discourse Grammar for German. Deliverable R2.3.2, Esprit Basic Research Project 6665 DANDELION. Brussels: Office of Publications of the European Union Schmidt, W. (1993). Geschichte der deutschen Sprache. Ein Lehrbuch für das germanistische Studium [Stories in Germany. A textbook for Germanist studies]. Stuttgart & Leipzig: S. Hirzel. Steiner E., U. Eckert, B. Roth, & J. Winter-Thielen (1988). “The Development of the EUROTRA-D System of Semantic Relations”. In E. Steiner, P. Schmidt & C. ZelinskyWibbelt (Eds.), From Syntax to Semantics. Insights from Machine Translation (pp. 44– 104). London: Pinter. Steiner, E. & W. Ramm (1995). “On Theme as a Grammatical Notion for Germany ”. Functions of Language, 2(1), 57–93. Steiner, E. (1992). Some Representational Issues in a Fragmentary Systemic Grammar of Germany. Technical report, Universität Duisburg, Linguistic Agency University of Duisburg Working Papers No. B 236 (re-printed in OPSL Vol.7 1993). Steiner, E. (1994). “A Fragment of a Multilingual Transfer Component and its Relevance for a Representation of Discourse Knowledge for MT”. In W. Ramm (Ed.), Text and Context in Machine Translation: Aspects of Discourse Representation and Discourse Processing (pp. 77–116). (=Studies in Machine Translation and NLP, 6). Luxembourg: Office for Official Publications of the European Communities. Strang, B. (1970). A History of the English Language. London: Routledge. Teich, E. (1999). Systemic Functional Grammar in Natural Language Generation. Linguistic Description and Computational Representation. London: Cassell. Thompson, S. A. (1978). “Modern English from a Typological Point of View: Some implications of the function of word order”. Linguistische Berichte [Linguistics Report] 54, 19–35. Weinrich, H. (1993). Textgrammatik der Deutschen Sprache [Text grammar in Germany]. Mannheim: Dudenverlag.

Chapter 4

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese Kazuhiro Teruya University of New South Wales

. Introduction This chapter is concerned with the grammar of modern, standard Japanese. To contextualize my description of Japanese, I will first provide a brief background of the Japanese language with reference to its phylogenetic history and its dialectal variation arising from that semiotic history. The history of Japanese, or proto-Japanese, can be said to have begun in 300 BC at the advent of the Yayoi culture (Uemura 1997). Although there are different views, it can be divided into six periods, which roughly correspond to historical and political periods in Japan (cf. Shibatani 1990): Proto-Japanese Old Japanese Late Old Japanese Middle Japanese Early Modern Japanese Modern Japanese

AD?? – 710 710 – 794 794 – 1192 1192 – 1603 1603 – 1868 1868 –

In around the third century, some fifty words which are considered to be akin to the Old Japanese of the Nara period (710 AD) were for the first time recorded in one of the history books of China. Hypothetically, therefore, the history of Japanese language is said to extend over a period of at least 2,300 years. As for the origin of Japanese, it is still impossible to specify the genetic affiliation of the Japanese language to other languages or language families; there are competing hypotheses, for instance, that identify Japanese with Altaic languages, or consider it to consist of an Austronesian substratum and an Altaic superstratum, or view Japanese as a

 Kazuhiro Teruya

hybrid language of Austronesian and Altaic strains or of Austronesian-DravidianAltaic confluence, etc. (cf. Shibatani 1990). The key to this issue of the genealogy of Japanese lies in the Japanese language spoken in the early Yayoi period when the Yayoi culture took root in Kita Kyuusyuu (the north of an island in the southeast of Japan); it spread to the west and the east in a relatively short period of time. The Yayoi culture is important because, as Uemura (1997: 32–33) notes, it is considered to have resulted from the confluence of migrants from the Continent and the native Japanese, which suggests that in the language of that period there must be cross-influence of both the language of the Altaic migrants and proto-Japanese. However, the issue is the ratio of the influence of each of these languages on the Japanese of the late Yayoi period and the Old Japanese of the Nara period, as this ratio determines the nature and origin of Japanese. On the basis of the differences in ratio, it may be possible to assume that the language of the native Japanese is the direct ancestor of Japanese, or that Japanese originates in the language of the Continent, or that Japanese is a hybrid of these two languages. However, as far as the written record of Japanese is concerned, we can only trace the phylogenetic history back to around the eighth century in literary works. The question of which language was spoken before the Yayoi period, namely the Joomon (“cord impression”) period (8000–400 BC), thus remains unsolved. In terms of dialectal variation, Japanese can be categorized into two groups: (i) the mainland dialects (which can be further divided into two subgroups, Western and Eastern, with the dialectal boundary corresponding to the Japan Alps); and (ii) the Ryukuan dialects (the dialects of the southeast of Japan, the Ryukyu island). The boundaries dividing the variants of the so-called Japanese language into groups are not only linguistic ones but also involve social, cultural and geographical conditions in which these groups have evolved and diverged differently. The variations of these dialects are great not only at phonological level (vowel systems may include three, five or six vowels (Uemura 1997: 35)), but also at semantic level – there is a lack of mutual intelligibility between the mainland and the Ryukyus, and between the north and the south of the mainland dialects, and among the Ryukyus dialects, for instance. The language of Japan is the result of the history of Japan, which at different times has been under social, cultural and political influences from various foreign countries: for example, the importation of institutions and technologies from China since around the fourth century and from the West since the Meiji restoration in 1867 and in particular after the Second World War. During this history, Japanese was “creolized” through word borrowings, as is evident in a mixture of writing systems: words of Chinese origin are written in kanji, those of Japanese origin are written in kanji and hiragana, while katakana is used for those originating in other languages such as English (see Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: Chapter 7).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

The current standard Japanese (hyoozun-go) is based on the Tokyo dialect, and originally referred to a written language established around 1887 after the movement for unification of written and spoken Japanese. This movement for unification occurred because, prior to this time, written Japanese was based on the grammar of the Late Old Japanese, which was heavily influenced by classical Chinese. However, over the past one hundred years, standard Japanese has spread all over the country and is now considered to be a standard and normative language, both written and spoken, for modern Japan.

. Metafunctional preview of the clause in Japanese From a functional perspective, Japanese is organized into three metafunctional layers of simultaneous meaning – ideational, interpersonal and textual– which are realized componentially, prosodically and periodically, respectively. In this section, I will sketch these three layers of meaning, illustrating how the major systems of each metafunction are realized and how they resonate as a clause. This should serve as a way in to the more detailed systemic description of metafunctions in following sections. In Japanese, grammatical units having different functional potentials are ordered hierarchically by the rank scale. Japanese grammar operates with ranks similar to those of English – clause, group/phrase, word and morpheme – but with some differences, in particular, at the rank of morpheme. For instance: (1)

Demo kyoo kare -wa ucyuu -ni tuite but today he -wa the -ni tuite universe conj nom nom mk nom mk postp nom.gp postpositional phrase “But will he talk about the universe today?”

hanasu -daroo ka talk sup ? verb ending pt verbal group

As the analysis given in the boxes illustrates, nominals in Japanese are in general marked by particles/postpositions/cases such as -ga (nominative), -o (accusative), -ni (locative), etc., and they expand into nominal groups; others being verbal, adjectival and adverbial groups. These overt grammatical markers are often taken to indicate the primary if not sole grammatical relations of the marked elements to the other elements. As I will show in this chapter, both the order of units in the clause and the grammatical relations constituted by those units need be investigated not only with respect to those overt markers but also with respect to the covert semantic status of the ranked units that realize functions in the metafunctional clausal organization. However, nominal markers may help distinguish

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Table 4.1 Morphological notations imp cond bnd imp-dir

imperative conditional binder imperative direct

sup hrf vol imp-ind

suppositive honorific volitional imperative indirect

experiential status of units as participants or circumstances. In general, markers such as -ga and -o indicate participant s while other markers such as -de, -kara and -made, etc. indicate circumstances. The marker -ni may denote either participants or circumstances (see Section 4.4); this thus limits the applicability of these overt markers to functional analysis. In the interlinear glossing given in the chapter, these nominal markers and other grammatical elements such as postpositions are indicated simply in upper case; sometimes morphological information which helps identify particular functions are glossed as shown in Table 4.1 (for more detailed morphological analysis, see Teruya 1998). Circumstantial status may also be realized by another rank unit, i.e. postpositional phrases. These are formed through nominal group expansion: nominal groups followed by postposition s come to represent circumstantial meaning. These postpositions are typically derived from verbs, so that it is possible to recognize derivational relations between postpositions and verbs (see Takahashi 1974): in the above example, the postposition tuite is a morphological variant of the verb tuku “attach”. Realizational differences in the experiential marking of participants and circumstances can be also observed textually with respect to the marking of Theme. In Japanese, Themes are generally announced by a theme marker, -wa. Participants and circumstances are thematized differently: participants are marked by a theme marker alone (as in ‘nom.gp-φ ^ -wa’) while circumstances are marked by a circumstantial nominal marker and a theme marker (as in ‘nom.gp-de ^ -wa’ or ‘nom.gp-kara ^ -wa’). As mentioned above, nominal groups marked by -ni are experientially indeterminate in terms of the experiential status that they realize. With regard to textual marking, nominal groups markd by -ni follow the same pattern as circumstances, i.e. ‘nom.gp-ni’ is thematized as ‘nom.gp-niwa’, so realizationally, participants that are marked by -ni look like circumstances. (2)

Demo kyoo kare-wa ucyuu-ni tuite hanasu-daroo ka but today he-wa the universe-ni tuite talk-sup int Circ Participt Circumstance Process Theme Rheme “But will he talk about the universe today?”

Grammatical units that are signalled as Theme by the marker -wa in this way are positioned clause-initially through a major textual system, theme. The clause-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

initial position in Japanese is therefore textually significant. The overt Theme markers such as -wa record peaks of thematic meaning – they mark the end of thematic prominence, which is followed by a less prominent element: the Rheme. In other words, the overtly marked Theme signals the end of a local context set for each clause in a text. For instance, in example (2) above, the local contextualization ends with the thematic participant kare-wa “he”. As shown here, there may be other elements that precede it: conjunctions such as demo “but”, circumstantial elements such as kyoo “today”, etc. (see Section 4.5). Conjunctions set up a textual context in which the clause is related to a preceding clause; and circumstantial elements, the most typical thematic contextualization being spatio-temporal one, specify a circumstantial context in which “goings-on” – saying, sensing, being, happening and doing – are construed through the nuclear transitivity. Verbal groups that realize the Process within the experiential structure come towards the end of the clause. Verbal groups are morphologically rich; while verbal morphology does not specify particular functional roles that participants play in various process configurations, it may help identify the involvement of an Agent. The Agent is an external participant which brings about the actualization of the process; the process necessarily involves another participant, the Medium, without which the process does not come into existence. That is, morphologically, the intransitive and transitive forms pair off quite systematically, for example ak-u/ ak-eu “open”, atum-aru/ atum-eru “collect”, so that the structure of verbs realizing the process may help identify the “ergative” status of clause with regard to one of the most general experiential systems, agency.1 Like verbal groups, adjectival groups may realize processes, in particular, relational processes. As will be discussed with respect to their interpersonal potential, adjectives may inflect like verbals, but without this intransitive/ transitive contrast. In other words, relational processes realized by adjectival groups are typically without an Agent, thus with regard to ergativity, these relational clauses are ‘middle’ rather than ‘effective’. With regard to transitivity, on the other hand, our experience of the world is categorized into process type and various circumstantial systems. Grammatical elements that realize transitive functions of process, participant and circumstance are very general. The goings-on are instead sorted out by the grammar in terms of various grammatical reactances which restrict the semantic status of specific functions. In the system of process type in Japanese, there are four cardinal types: verbal, mental, relational and material. As exemplified below, each one is a specific configuration of a process and the participants directly involved in that process; there may also be optional attendant circumstances that are modelled by circumstantial transitivity. The following are representative examples of each process type.

 Kazuhiro Teruya

PROCESS TYPE: ‘verbal’ (3)

Kare-wa kanozyo-ni sayonara-o itta. he-wa her-ni good-bye-o said Sayer Receiver Verbiage Process “He told her good-bye.”

PROCESS TYPE: ‘mental’ (4)

Kare-wa heiwa-o kangaeta. he-wa peace-o thought Senser Phenomenon Process “He thought of peace.”

PROCESS TYPE: ‘relational: attributive’ (5)

Kanozyo-wa yasasii. she-wa kind Carrier Attribute/Process “She is kind.”

PROCESS TYPE: ‘relational: existential’ (6)

Kare-wa asoko-ni iru. he-wa over-there-ni exist Existent Location Process “He is over there.”

PROCESS TYPE: ‘relational: identifying’ (7)

Kanozyo-ga kamisama da. she-ga god be Identified Identifier Process “She is the god.”

PROCESS TYPE: ‘material’ (8)

Kanozyo-wa keeki-o tukutta. she-wa cake-o made Actor Goal Process “She made a cake.”

Interpersonally, verbal, adjectival and nominal groups may function as a Predicator that comes towards the end of clause and that realizes various interpersonal meanings within the most general interpersonal system, mood. The Predicator, which is conflated with the Process in the experiential configuration, is realizationally different from that of English: it is like a combination of Finite and Predicator in English, as it is inseparable into words.2 The realizational pattern of Predicator is indicative of different mood types; for instance, systemic contrast between ‘declarative’ and

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese

‘imperative’ mood is realized through the morphology of the element serving as Predicator (which, as noted above, may be a verbal, adjectival or nominal group). As shown in example (9), the ‘declarative’ is realized by a nominal group in conclusive form (danteikei): suki da “like” (here the morpheme -da indicates the mood); in example (10) the ‘imperative’ is realized by a verbal group in ‘imperative’ form (kinshikei): yamete kure “stop (it)” (here an auxiliary verb – -kureru “give” – is in the imperative mood3 ). MOOD: ‘declarative’ (9)

Kimi-ga you-ga Complement Residue “I love you.”

suki da. like conclusive Predicator Mood

MOOD: ‘imperative’ (10)

Yamete kure. stop give-imp-ind Predicator Mood “Stop it (for me).”

The mood structure extends towards the end of clause (other mood components such as Subject and Modal Adjunct generally precede the Predicator – see Section 4.3.1 below). Another mood function, the Negotiator, adds the negotiatory or attitudinal value of clause such as question, insistence or assertion. The Negotiator is typically realized at the very end of clause, i.e. after the Predicator; it is realized at the point where the speaker is just about to hand over the role of the mover of the interaction to his/her interactants. The presence of the Negotiator is generally optional. However, Negotiatory markers such as ka, kai or no are obligatory in the realization of interrogative mood unless intonation (rising pitch) takes over the realization. In other words, the Negotiator also falls within the Mood and adds interpersonal significance to the end of clause. The example (11) is an interrogative clause marked by the Negotiator no, which enacts a ‘question’. There are two types of interrogative mood clauses: example (11) is an elemental interrogative; the other type is yes/no interrogative. In the elemental interrogative, there is an interpersonal prosody between an interrogative word and the Negotiator. Together they enact an interrogative mood; without this prosody, for example, without the presence of the interrogative word naze “why”, the Negotiator no may enact different Negotiatory value such as “empathy” (Table 4.2 below lists the Negotiatory markers that appear in this chapter).



 Kazuhiro Teruya

Table 4.2 Some Negotiatory markers and glossing convention negotiatory markers ka, kai, no ne yo sa no ze wa to

speech function question confirmation assertion insistence empathy strong insistence mild insistence projection quoted projection reported

gloss int conf assert insist empath s.insist m.insist proj.q proj.r

MOOD: ‘interrogative: elemental’ (11)

Naze ienai no. why unable to say int Adjunct Predicator Negotiator Residue Mood “Why can’t you say that?”

As discussed already, the Predicator in Japanese is interpersonally significant in enacting mood contrast – between ‘declarative’ and ‘imperative’, for instance. But the Predicator embodies other functional potentials. Other major interpersonal systems such as polarity, modality and politeness are also realized through the Predicator. The Predicator realizes meanings from these systems simultaneously. This is because grammatical units, verbal groups in particular, can be morphologically very complex. For example, the following verbal group is composed of six morphemes, each contributing to realize roughly either interpersonal or experiential features: yomanakerebanaranakattakamosirenai “might have had to read” The important point to note here is that these morphemes are not separable. Therefore, the various interpersonal meanings realized through Predicator, which is realized by a verbal, adjectival or nominal group, are enacted collectively rather than through individual morphemes each contributing as a constituent to enact or represent a particular interpersonal meaning. The example of one extensive Mood element in Table 4.3 below shows an interpersonally charged Predicator and Negotiator. The layers of analysis given in the boxes thus do not represent constituent analysis but rather strands of meanings categorized by the grammar. In this section, I have previewed the organization of each metafunction, illustrating some major textual, experiential and interpersonal systems. The clause is realized linearly through the rank scale, but organized by the grammar in such a way that the meaning potential of the metafunctions effectively resonates with

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

Table 4.3 Various interpersonal meanings: one extensive Mood element yomanakerebanaranakatta“read” neg cond “must” past Process polarity modulation tense4 modalization Predicator Mood “You might have had to read it, mightn’t you?”

kamosirenai “might”

no empathy

kai int

Negotiator

each other. In Japanese, the beginning of the clause sets out a textual context that organizes the experiential and interpersonal meanings as a message. The end of clause, on the other hand, adds interpersonal significance to the experiential meaning that comes to be organized as a configuration through the Process. The Process in Japanese is conflated with the Predicator. The Predicator holds enormous interpersonal potential, and the potential is further increased by the presence of the Negotiator, which, if present, comes at the very end of clause. In the following sections, I will discuss each metafunction in more detail, representing the most general systemic organization in the form of system network and providing examples that illustrate some systems characteristic of the grammar of Japanese.

. The mood system and the modal structure For the enactment of the roles of interactants in exchanging ‘information’ and ‘goods-&-services’, the interpersonal grammar of Japanese offers speakers grammatical resources such as mood, modality, polarity, politeness, honorification and negotiation. These systems enable users of Japanese to enact and establish their tenor relations in various social contexts in which dynamic social exchanges continually develop to create social cohesion among those users. In this section, I will discuss some of the salient features of the interpersonal grammar of Japanese. First I will take up the mood system as a way in to other systems, and then I will present the modal structure of Japanese. This will enable us to place the function of Subject, which has been rather controversial in Japanese linguistics, not only in the clause rank but also in the text, and to identify the functional characteristics of the Subject in Japanese as a significant interpersonal variable.

 Kazuhiro Teruya

.. The mood system and other interrelated systems In Japanese, the predication enacting different types of mood in the clause is typically realized at the end of the clause, where a verbal, adjectival or nominal group functions as a Predicator. The Predicator thus has a significant interpersonal potential, and that interpersonal potential increases towards the end of clause. This is evident in the fact that interpersonal particles may follow the Predicator and serve the function of Negotiation within the system negotiation, which adds a specification of the Negotiatory value of the clause (and may also enact gender difference) such as confirmation, assertion, empathy or insistence – as shown in example (12). The function Predicator in Japanese differs in a few respects from that of English (Halliday 1994: 79). Unlike English, the Predicator in Japanese functions to specify various modalities such as probability, phase, obligation, permission, etc. within the systems of modalization and modality. It functions more or less like a combination of Finite and Predicator in English. Thus while in English the Finite and the Predicator are often separated, in Japanese they never are, so there is no need to posit a distinct Finite element in the interpersonal structure of the clause. (12)

Boku-datte kowai n da ze. I-even scary s.insist Subject Predicator Negotiation: male speech an adjectival group Mood “Even I am scared, you know.” [Ai]

The system of mood in Japanese is organized with respect to different semantic moves that are made by interactants, ‘propositions’ and ‘proposals’, and by the different speech roles enacted by them, ‘giving’ and ‘demanding’ (Halliday 1994). The most primary options of mood in Japanese are ‘indicative’ and ‘nonindicative’ as shown in Table 4.4 above. This systemic contrast is in general realized through the Predicator: the ‘indicative: declarative’ mood is realized by a verbal in conclusive form (hanas-u: “talk”) and the ‘suppositive’ mood by suppositive form (hanas-u daroo “will/would talk”). The contrast between the two is between the experiential event being ‘certain’ or ‘uncertain’: certainty which accompanies the way the event is experienced, rather than based on the speaker’s subjective judgement. In fact, the subjective assessment of the degree of certainty may be specified objectively by modal adjuncts such as tabun “perhaps”, osoraku “probably”, kitto “certainly”, etc. (Okuda 1984) when the clause is in suppositive mood. The ‘demanding’ type of all ‘non-indicative’ types are also marked morphologically by verbal groups realizing Predicator: the ‘jussive’ mood by one in imperative form (hanas-e “talk!”), the ‘prohibitive’ mood by one in prohibitive form (hanasu-na: “don’t talk”) and the ‘suggestive’ mood by one in volitional form (hanas-oo:

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

demanding

giving

Table 4.4 The most general paradigm of mood system propositions (information) indicative ‘statement’ declarative: conclusive (Watasi-wa) Nihongo-de hanasita. I-wa Japanese-de spoke “(I) spoke in Japanese.” ‘statement’ declarative: suppositive Watasi-wa Nihongo-de hanasita daroo. I-wa Japanese-de spoke sup “(I) would speak in Japanese.” ‘question’ indicative: interrogative: yes/no (Anata-wa) Nihongo-de hanasita ka. (You-wa) Japanese-de spoke int “Did you speak in Japanese?” ‘question’ indicative: interrog: elemental (Dare-ga) Nihongo-de hanasita ka. (Who-ga) Japanese-de spoke int “Who spoke in Japanese?”

proposals (goods-&-services) non-indicative

‘offer’ oblative Nihongo-de hanasoo ka. Japanese-de speak-vol int “Shall we speak in Japanese?”

‘command’ jussive Nihongo-de hanase. Japanese-de speak-imp-dir “Speak in Japanese.” ‘command’ prohibitive Nihongo-de hanasuna. Japanese-de speak-prohib “Don’t speak in Japanese.” ‘command’ suggestive5 Nihongo-de hanasoo. Japanese-de speak-vol “Let’s speak in Japanese.” ‘desideration’ optative Nihongo-de hanasitai. Japanese-de want to speak “(I) want to speak in Japanese.”

“let’s talk”) (cf. Okuda 1996). Among the ‘demanding & non-indicative’ types, the optative mood has properties intermediate between ‘imperative’ and ‘declarative’. The optative mood expresses ‘desire’ or ‘volition’ and is expressed by, for instance, an adjectivalizer -tai “want to” as in hanasi-tai “want to talk”. The clause enacting it represents the content as desirable to the speaker. Thus the Medium is generally the speaker, and the speaker Subject is most typically implicit.6 This property makes these clauses comparable to imperative clauses, in the sense that a service provider, i.e. a Subject, is readily inferable. Another property that is analogous to the imperative mood is tense selection; an optative clause generally selects the present tense, and even when it is formally realized in the past tense, it enacts current desire with respect to the realizability of proposals as in otoko-ni umaretakatta “(I) wanted to be born as a boy”. A clause with a Predicator realized with -tai “want to” may enact the desire of someone other than the interactants; in this case, the Predicator comes to be realized by an addition of a copula -noda, which makes a clause descriptive (Okuda 1990). As a result, the system of interactant type be-

 Kazuhiro Teruya

comes available again for selection. In other words, an optative clause is shifted to the declarative mood by the grammatical ‘declarativization’ marker -noda. (13)

Watasi-mo ikitai wa. I-mo want to m.insist Subject Predicator Negotiator Mood “I also want to go.”

Among all these mood types, the ‘interrogative’ mood and the ‘imperative: oblative’ mood are enacted additionally through another interpersonal system, interpersonal key. That is, these two mood types are realized not through a Predicator (as this only specifies the type of commodity being exchanged as to either ‘information’ or ‘goods-&-services’), but by a Negotiator in the form of a question marker, -ka (-kai) or -no as in hanas-u ka “talk?” and hanas-oo ka “shall (I) talk?”, and/or by intonation (a rising tone). As mentioned already, the Predicator in Japanese realizes more than just different mood types. It also realizes options within the system of polarity: it specifies the nature of a proposition as to either ‘positive’ or ‘negative’. As shown in sample Text 4.1 below (in which Eve and Adam7 argue over the proposition “whether kind words are a lie or the truth”) it may make a significant interpersonal contribution to the ongoing negotiation. In the next example, which illustrates negative polarity, the adjectival elements realizing the Predicator are organized by the logical metafunction into a dependency structure: the element representing negativity, -nai “not”, is its Head, and the preceding verb, wakatte “understand” is dependent on that polarity. This logical ordering of the structure of the Predicator also points to the interpersonal significance of the end of clause. (14)

. . . wakatte nai no ne. understand neg empathy conf Predicator adjectival gp: negative Negotiator Mood “You don’t know . . . do you?”

Another interpersonal system typically realized within the domain of the Predicator is politeness, with two options: ‘marked’ and ‘unmarked’. The Predicator enacts politeness with respect to the tenor of the relationship between (non-)interactants. The unmarked form is typically used when the interactants don’t need to pay attention to formality, as in discourse between family members, close friends, etc. All the exchanges between Eve and Adam in Text 4.1 below are not marked with politeness for exactly that reason. However, when formality plays a crucial role in discourse because of, for example, a gap in the social identities and

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

relations among the interactants, the Predicator is in general marked for politeness, with or without features of another system that is also realized through the Predicator, honorification. I will return to this system in the next section. I have so far pointed out that the Predicator may realize various interpersonal features from the systems mood, polarity, negotiation and politeness. Before moving on to describe other systems, let me summarize the discussion so far, by presenting a constructed example of a Predicator to illustrate these interpersonal systems at risk, and a text (Text 4.1) to show, together with the commentary on the text, how these systems jointly create the dynamic flow in an exchange. (15)

Hanasi -masen -desita. talk neg past polarity: negative politeness: marked; honorification: neutral mood: declarative Predicator “(I) didn’t talk.”

Text 4.1 [Ai] Eve

(1) Ii eiga datta wa ne. good movie was m.insist conf “It was a good movie, wasn’t it?”

Adam (2) [no response] Eve

(3) Omosirokatta wa ne. was interesting m.insist conf “It was interesting, wasn’t it?”

Adam (4) [no response] Eve

(5) Omosiroku nakatta no? interesting wasn’t int “Wasn’t it interesting?”

Adam (6) Cyotto damattete kure yo. a little stop talking imp-ind assert “Stop talking, will you?” Eve

(7) Doo sita no ittai? what did int on earth “What on earth’s happened?”

Adam (8) Syaberitaku nai nda yo. want to talk neg just assert “I just don’t want to talk.”

 Kazuhiro Teruya

(9) Damatte kandoo-o kamisimete itai nda yo. without talking impression-o want to enjoy taste just assert “just want to enjoy the taste of the impression.” Text 4.1 shows the interpersonal meanings enacted dynamically through a dialogic exchange, and Table 4.5 summarizes the interaction of the interpersonal systems in this exchange. To illustrate its dynamics, let me provide a brief grammatical commentary on the interpersonal features realized in the text. In clause (1), Eve initiates an information exchange by selecting declarative mood, but at the same time a request for confirmation by employing the Negotiatory marker ne. No exchange is established, so in clause (3) Eve selects the same grammatical option but with a change in wording; but again she fails. In the next step, clause (5), Eve changes her grammatical strategy: she overtly marks her move by interrogative mood, in particular, yes/no interrogative with a change in polarity from positive to negative, in order to seek a response. The strategy works and with clause (6) the exchange opens up. However, it does not lead to an information exchange; Adam instead demands that Eve provide a service by using imperative mood with the added Negotiatory value of assertion marked by yo. In clause (7) Eve continues to seek information, but by shifting the mood from yes/no to elemental-interrogative to learn the reason for his demand of service. In response, in clause (8), Adam provides one reason but does not change his assertive mood realized by yo. In this section, I have pointed out that the end of clause in Japanese has considerable interpersonal potential, and that this potential increases towards the end of clause. For instance, the speech functional status of clause is in general realized within the Predicator. The Predicator indicates the speech role adopted by the speaker, and simultaneously the complementary role s/he assigns to the addressee. The speech functional status of the clause can also be reinforced by the presence Table 4.5 Interpersonal systems in Text 4.1 Eve Adam Eve Adam Eve

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Adam

(6)

Eve

(7)

Adam

(8) (9)

Text Ii datta wa ne. – Omosirokatta wa ne. – Omosiroku nakatta no? Cyotto damattete kure yo. Doo sita no ittai? Syaberitaku nai nda yo. Damatte kanoo-o kamisimete itai nda yo.

mood declarative – declarative – interrogative: yes/no imperative: jussive: indirect interrogative: elemental declarative declarative

negotiation confirmation – confirmation – question

polarity positive – positive – negative

assertion

positive

question

positive

assertion assertion

negative positive

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

of another interpersonal function, Negotiation, which enables the speaker to indicate his or her attitudinal stance towards the proposition or proposal as s/he is just about to hand over to the address, that is, at the very end of clause.

.. Subject and modal structure in Japanese In this section, I will discuss other interpersonal resources of Japanese, moving from the end to the beginning of clause. That is, I will continue explicating the grammatical status of Predicator; but this time approaching from the angle of modality, and in relation to this interpersonal resource, I will characterize the Subject, which falls within the structure of Mood somewhere towards the beginning of clause. In this way, we will be able to take a glance at the dynamic interpersonal move enacted at the both ends of interpersonal clause structure. The Subject has always been controversial category in Japanese linguistics; thus it first needs be placed in an appropriate clausal environment and characterized according to its functional value. The Subject is interpreted here as an interpersonal category (cf. Okuda 1956, 1963, 1988; Suzuki 1972) rather than an ideational or textual one as is often misleadingly done (in, for instance, Mikami 1964). It is a meaning making function in the clause as exchange and, in concert with Predicator, it enacts the meaning of predicativity. This is because the Predicator positions the Subject with reference to various interpersonal meanings such as polarity and modality. If an element is assigned the function of Subject, it is given value in relation to these interpersonal parameters. According to this grammatical property, we can characterize the Subject in Japanese as an interpersonal function which is “modally responsible” for the Predicator (for modal responsibility, see Halliday 1994; Martin 1992: 461–488). The modal responsibility of Subject can be made explicit if we take meanings enacted through the system of honorification with options ‘humble’, ‘neutral’ and ‘honorific’. This system intersects with the politeness system, which defines horizontal social relationships such as social distance (i.e whether the interactants are insiders or outsiders); when politeness is marked, the system negotiates vertical social relationships between the interactants (or between the interactants and non-interactants), according to the socially established hierarchy based on superiority/inferiority. As shown in Table 4.6 below, honorific variables are overtly marked, in general, in the lexical choice of the verbal group realizing Predicator: for instance, a verb iki-masu “go” with the features ‘neutral’ in honorification and ‘marked’ in politeness has two variants in terms of honorification, mairi-masu with the feature ‘humble’ and irassyai-masu with the feature ‘honorific’. Thus a specific modal responsibility enacted through the honorification system can be readily

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Table 4.6 A partial paradigm of honorification and politeness honorification humble

neutral

honorific

politeness unmarked mairu go-humble-informal o-kaki suru polite-write do-informal ik-u go-informal kak-u write-informal irassyaru go-honorific-informal o-kaki-ni naru polite-write-ni become-informal

marked mairi-masu go-humble-formal o-kaki si-masu polite-write do-formal ik-i-masu go-formal kak-i-masu write-formal irassyai-masu go-honorific-formal o-kaki-ni nari-masu polite-write-ni become-formal

identified with respect to the social hierarchy reflected in the tenor selection of Subject.8 We need to investigate propositions rather than proposals here because modal responsibility is less obvious in the former than in the latter. For the proposal type, the Subject is restricted to either addressee or addressee-plus and is generally implicit, whereas for the proposition type, all the options in the interactant type system are available for selection, so that it provides an ideal environment for the investigation of Subject, especially when it is implicit. In examples (16) and (17) below, there are three clauses that are propositions in which the Subjects are lexicogrammatically implicit; however these Subjects are semantically explicit. The humble/honorific meanings are realized through the Predicators that mark specific modal responsibility assigned to the interactants. Modal responsibilities enacted by the Predicators gozonzi desu “know” and mesiagaru nara “if eat” are overtly specified by the selection of verbs, i.e. the honorific verbs gozonzi “know” and mesiagaru “eat”, which can only be assigned when the Subject is the addressee; the third of these three clauses enacts humbleness through the humble form totte mairimasu “go and get”, thus this time the Subject is the speaker rather than the addressee. (16)

Dan’na akebi-no mi-o gozonzi desu ka. sir akebi-no fruit-o know -hrf int Vocative Complement Predicator: honorific Negotiator implicit Subject = addressee “Sir, do (you) know akebi fruit?”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

(17)

Mesiagaru nara tottemairimasu yo. eat-hrf-cond go and get-hrf conf Predicator: honorific Predicator: humble Negotiation implicit Subject = addressee implicit Subject = speaker If (you) eat, (I) go and get it.” [Yukiguni]

The modal responsibility for the whole proposition/proposal is one of the characteristics of the Subject in Japanese. I identified this characteristic at the rank of clause by illustrating the Subject in relation to modal parameters set by the Predicator. This is just one aspect of the Subject in Japanese; it is possible to further explicate the overall grammatical potential of Subject. To do so, we need to explore the meaning of Subject in the environment of a text in which it functions. Theoretically, the approach from text will make the point that the function of Subject “flows out of ” an interpersonal exploration of clauses in dialogue – it is not a universal category to be imposed on Japanese or any other language. And descriptively, it should illustrate how the Subject and the Predicator make their contributions to enact interpersonal meaning as a dynamic exchange as it unfolds. Text 4.2 is an extract from an argument in a dramatic dialogue; the interpersonal analysis of the text is given in Table 4.7 below. Table 4.7 Interpersonal features of Text 4.2 Speaker/ Other than Predicator Predicator Clause (Subject in bold) A (1) Nan/ sono uta-wa? dai “is” “What/ that song?” E (2) Konsyuu-no hitto songu dai-icii “this week’s no. 1 hit song” A (3) Bakabaksii “ridiculous” A

(4)

Yasasii kotoba nante no-wa / moto moto “these kind words” / “basically” Ara “Oh”

E

(5)

A

(6)

E

(7)

Nani-ga “What”

A

(8)

E

(9)

Uso datte koto “that it is a lie” Uso “lie”

Nego- mood tiation inter: elem yo decl: assert concl

polar- proc ity type relat pos

relat

minor cl uso-ni kimatte/ iru zya ka int decl: nai “lie is decided” / concl “doesn’t exist”

pos neg

relat

honto-na “true”

pos

relat

pos

relat

pos

relat

pos

relat

pos

relat

Honto “true”

no int inter: y/n sa decl: insist concl ? inter: elem decl: concl ! minor cl

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Table 4.7 (continued) Speaker/ Other than Predicator Clause (Subject in bold) A (10) Iya “no” E

(11)

A

(12)

E

(13)

E

(14)

A

(15)

E

(16)

A

(17)

E

(18)

A

(19)

A

(20)

Predicator

Nego- mood tiation uso zya nai “isn’t a lie” decl: concl Nani-ga “What” inter: y/n Uso datte koto-ga “That decl: it is a lie concl Zya “Then” uso zya nai n desyo decl: “isn’t a lie, is it?” supp honto nan desyo “true, decl: isn’t it” supp Un! “Yeah!” honto da “is true” decl: concl Yappasi “You see” honto-na “true” none decl: emp- concl conf Nani-ga “What” ? inter: elem Yasasii kotoba “kind yo decl: words” assert concl Yamete kure! “Stop imp: it!” juss Konguragacci matta ka int decl: zyanai “(I) got concl confused, you know”

polar- proc ity type neg relat neg

relat

pos

relat

neg

relat

pos

relat

pos

relat

pos

relat

pos

relat

pos

relat

pos

mat

(neg)

relat

Text 4.2 [Ai] Adam (1) Nan dai sono utu-wa? what is that song-wa “What is that song?” Eve

(2) Konsyuu-no hitto songu dai-icii yo. this week-no hit song number 1 assert “(It is) this week’s number 1 hit song.”

Adam (3) Bakabakasii ridiculous “(It’s) ridiculous).” (4) yasasii kotoba nante no-wa moto moto uso-ni kimatte kind words such as no-wa basically lie-ni is decided iruzyanai ka. exist neg int “these kind words are basically a lie.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

Eve

(5) Ara, honto-na no? oh true-na int “Oh, (is that) right?”

Adam (6) Honto sa. true insist “Right.” Eve

(7) Nani-ga? what-ga “What?”

Adam (8) Uso datte koto. lie is koto “That it is a lie.” Eve

(9) Uso lie “You’re kidding! (Lie!)”

Adam (10) Iya usozyanai. no lie neg “No, that isn’t a lie.” Eve

(11) Nani-ga? what-ga “What?”

Adam (12) Uso datte koto-ga. lie is koto-ga “That it is a lie.” Eve

(13) Zya, usozyanaindesyo, then lie neg sup “Then it isn’t a lie, is it,” (14) hontonandesyo. true sup “it is true, isn’t it.”

Adam (15) Un! honto da. yeah true is “Yeah! it’s true.” Eve

(16) Yappasi, honto-na none. you see true empathy-conf “That’s what I thought – true.”

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Adam (17) Nani-ga? what-ga “What?” Eve

(18) Yasasii kotoba yo. kind words assert “(It’s) kind words.”

Adam (19) Yamete kure! stop imp-dir “Stop it!” (20) Konguragaccimattazyanai ka! confused neg int “(I) got confused, you know!” This is an argumentative dialogic text: grammatically speaking, Adam and Eve argue by shifting the combination of subjecthood and modal responsibility. Here modal responsibility is primarily concerned with polarity: positiveness and negativeness of an experientially (relationally) assigned Attribute (either “lie” or “true”) to the Carrier (either “kind words” or “that it is a lie”) (for the experiential function, see Section 4.4.3). Thus we can readily identify not just one semantic motif, enacted by the Predicator, but two semantic motifs, each enacted by a sequence of Subject and Predicator constituted through the exchange. This enables the interactants to systematically but spontaneously construct a dialogic movement; switching either Subject or Predicator back and forth depending on the particular interpersonal meaning that is negotiated. Figure 4.1 below illustrates how the successive combinations of Subject and Predicator dynamically work together to propel the argument forward; the arrows show this movement. By this, we can observe how the selection of Subject and modal responsibilities assigned to the experiential element Attribute (“lie” or “true”) shifts as the argument unfolds. The text quoted above serves as a good example of this: Eve and Adam negotiate the identity of the Subject by means of the elemental interrogative nani-ga “what” in clauses (7), (11) and (17) when the assignment of modal responsibility becomes obscured: what is true or not true (a lie) becomes difficult to identify in the ongoing exchange. The dynamics of Subject and Predicator may be diagrammatically illustrated as in Figure 4.1. Here, we are looking at the semantic function of Subject from the vantage point of a text. In text, interactants collaboratively construct a continuous flow of interpersonal meaning, and this – or, more precisely in this case, predicative meaning – derives interpersonal significance as it is identified with a set of “nubs of argument”. That is, the Subject serves as the nub of the argument against which the interactants make a further move. The move is made of course according to a

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

Figure 4.1 Semiotic interaction of the nub of the argument and modal responsibility

particular modal responsibility assigned to a particular Subject that is (i) already serving as the nub of the argument by being introduced or being inferable as already illustrated in terms of honorification above, or (ii) introduced for the first time or afresh. In the case of (i), the Subject may be implicit; but this does not mean that Subject is lacking or irrelevant to the grammar of Japanese – the notion of “subjectlessness”, which falsifies the entire picture of the grammar of Japanese, is built around this aspect of Subject (see Hori 1995). It is more appropriate to understand that the backgrounding or foregrounding of Subject depends on its semantic continuity as the nub of the argument. In other words, if a Subject enacted

 Kazuhiro Teruya

overtly or covertly is semantically stable through an interactive sequence, then it may be backgounded (or implicit), but if the semantic stability is decreased because the modal responsibility cannot be located, then the Subject is brought into the foreground as the nub to be negotiated. In Figure 4.1, the broken arrows indicate the flow of Subject from (1) to (4) and the shifts of polarity between (a) ‘lie’ and (b) ‘true’. The solid single-headed arrows illustrate the argument flowing from Subject to Predicator or Predicator to Predicator while the nub of argument is stable, and the solid double-headed arrows indicate the combinations of Subject and Predicator that are newly established because of the modal responsibilities being obscured. In the above discussion I pointed out the interpersonal characteristics of the Subject in Japanese as being (i) modal responsibility for the validity of the proposition/proposal, and (ii) the nub of the argument. These characteristics are complementary: each demands and presupposes the presence of the other in the clause within a text, and because of this complementarity, both Subject and Predicator have the potential to be independently negotiated, carrying both lines of semantic motifs to move a dynamic exchange forward. Therefore, in Japanese, both ends of the prototypical interpersonal clause structure, Subject ^ (Complement ^) Predicator (^ Negotiation), have significance for the dynamic organization of interaction. Before closing the section on interpersonal grammar, I will draw attention again to the end of the clause in a short exchange (Text 4.3) to illustrate how the Predicator (with or without Negotiation) is deployed independently of the Subject (with their semantic relationship remaining nevertheless intact) (cf. Fukui 1998). Text 4.3 A

(1) Ryookin-ga takaku naru n desu ka. fare-ga become expensive int Subject Predicator Negotiation “The fare is becoming expensive, isn’t it?”

B

(2) Takaku narimasu ne. become expensive conf Predicator Negotiation “(It is) becoming expensive.”

A

(3) Tukaenai kuni-mo aru n desu yo ne. countries for which it cannot be used-mo there are assert conf Subject Predicator Negotiation “There are some countries for which it cannot be used.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

B

(4) Arimasu. there are Predicator. “There are.”

A

(5) Desu yo ne. are assert conf Predicator Negotiation “There are.”

The reason for the dynamic deployment of the end of clause in the exchange of interpersonal meaning in Japanese may be sought in the fact that various interpersonal systems are aggregated towards the end of clause, as shown in Text 4.3 above. This is one of the most salient features of the realization of interpersonal meaning in Japanese.

. The transitivity system and experiential structure In the experiential mode of representation, our experience of the world around us and inside us is construed componentially as organic wholes consisting of configurations of component parts. Thus the flow of events is construed serially as sequences of quanta of change. These quanta are construed componentially as figures (Halliday & Matthiessen 1999), and realized as a clausal configuration of a process, the participants directly involved in that process, and the attendant circumstances. The transitivity system of the grammar of Japanese organizes the clause in terms of two primary systems: nuclear transitivity and circumstantial transitivity. Like the interpersonal systems described in the preceding section, transitivity forms a system of interrelated systems. nuclear transitivity consists of process type and agency; and the circumstantial transitivity consists of location, cause, angle and other specific circumstantial systems (for examples of circumstantial functions, see the sample texts in Section 4.5) The process type system in Japanese has four primary options: ‘verbal’, ‘mental’, ‘relational’ and ‘material’. This system makes explicit the grammatical roles of participants, as it assigns to each participant a process-type-specific transitivity role. As already noted, participants and circumstances are distinguished in Japanese by grammatical markers; however, the participant markers are general and do not indicate the participant’s more specific role in the transitivity. The participant roles must therefore be interpreted in the environments of particular process types.

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Figure 4.2 The most general interpersonal systems

In the following sections, I will discuss each process type in turn and bring to light the specific characteristics that differentiate each type from the others. There is not enough space in this chapter to discuss the similarities that point to the semantic continuity of these process types (for more detailed discussion, see Teruya, forthcoming, 1998).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

.. Verbal processes Verbal processes are processes of saying such as iu “say”, hanasu “talk” and kiku “ask”. There is always one participant involved in the act of saying, the grammatical function of this participant being Sayer, as shown in example (19) (see Figure 4.3 for the most general system of verbal processes). In Japanese, it is quite rare for a non-conscious being to be construed as a Sayer, but it is possible:9 in this case, the Sayer is more like “a symbol source” (Matthiessen 1995a: 281; Teruya, in press). (18)

Sizuka-wa himitu- -hanasi hazimeta. Sizuka-wa secret-o started talking Sayer Verbiage Process “Sizuka started talking about her secret.” [Ongaku]

(19)

watasi-wa itta. the other day-wa thank you proj.q I-wa said Projection Sayer Process ““Thank you for your help the other day”, I said.” [Kitchen]

Another characteristic of verbal processes is the potential for being configured with a Receiver to whom the process of saying is directed. In Japanese, the Receiver is realized by a nominal group marked by -ni, as in kare-ni “to him”. While a Receiver is not required to be present in the clause, it is inherent in the category of verbal clause. For instance: (20)

Watasi-wa kare-ni sayonara-o itta. I-wa he-ni goodbye-o said Sayer Receiver Verbiage Process “I said goodbye to him.” [Kitchen]

The ‘verbal’ clause encompasses two general types: ‘verbal behaviour’ and ‘verbal saying’. The ‘verbal behaviour’ type, e.g. hanasu “talk”, syaberu “chat” and soodansuru “consult”, is different from the ‘verbal saying’ in that the Receiver can be construed either as a circumstance of Accompaniment realized by “nom.gpto” (as in kare-to “with him”), or as a second interactant, through nominal group expansion (as in kare-to kanozyo-ni “to him and her”) (cf. Miyajima 1972). The ‘verbal saying’ type of verbal process has two subtypes: ‘verbal exchange’ and ‘verbal judgement’. The former includes processes like noberu “state”, kiku “ask” and tanomu “ask”, and the latter includes sikaru “scold”, homeru “praise”, hiyakasu “banter”, etc. These two types are different in the meaning they represent, and grammatically they are different in at least a few respects. One difference is that the verbal judgement type can be configured with a participant that is judged by the Sayer and is construed as a verbal Goal impacted on by being judged, namely, Tar-

 Kazuhiro Teruya

get, as shown in the following example. This type is clearly verbal as it can project a locution that is marked by a negotiatory marker -to (or -tte in spoken Japanese) (cf. Maynard 1997): this marks the negotiatory value of the clause as one of projected mood, and this is the most salient characteristics of processes of saying. (21)

Kanozyo-wa tomodaci-no ko-o hometa. she-wa friend’s child-o a good girl-proj.q praised Sayer Target Projection Process “She praised a friend’s child for being a good girl.” [IPALv: 353]

The ‘verbal saying’ type can also project a clause, but the dialogic exchange between a speaker and (an) addressee(s) may be construed as a Verbiage realized by “nom.gp-o” (as in example (18)). When the Verbiage represents the topic or subject matter of the content of saying, it can be alternatively realized circumstantially as a circumstance of Matter marked by -ni tuite: thus the Verbiage in example (18), himitu-o “secret”, can be alternatively construed as a circumstance of Matter, as in himitu-ni tuite “about secret”. The locution projected by processes of the ‘verbal saying’ type can be categorized according to two sets of associated semantico-grammatical variables: (i) the way of projecting a saying as ‘quoting’ or ‘reporting’; (ii) the modal status of projected locution as ‘indicating’ or ‘imperating’. In Japanese, when the projected clause selects ‘indicating’ mood, typically there is no clear difference in status between quoting and reporting clauses; for instance, neither deictic element nor tense selection shift to mark a difference in status.10 In contrast, when the projected clause carries the feature ‘imperating’, there is a fairly clear difference. As shown in the following two examples, in the environment of ‘quoting’ (example (22)), the mood is realized by the Predicator kure-to “give!” (imperative form), whereas in the environment of ‘reporting’ (example (23)), it is marked by -yoo ni, which replaces the Negotiatory marker -to. (When -to follows -yoo ni rather than replacing it, the projected clause indicates a mild command realized by -yoo ni, and is thus analysed as quoting; see Teruya 1998.) (22)

Kare-wa tomodaci-ni tanonda. he-wa friend-ni money-o lend-proj.q asked Sayer Receiver Projection: quoting Process “He asked his friend, “Lend me money”.”

(23)

Kare-wa tomodaci-ni tanonda. he-wa friend-ni money-o lend-proj.r asked Sayer Receiver Projection: reporting Process “He asked his friend to lend him money.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese

The orientation of the speech function construed in the projected clauses correlates closely with the selection of projecting processes. According to this interrelation, verbs realizing the verbal saying type can be categorized into three subtypes: – – –

Verbs specific to ‘projected declarative’ clauses: noberu “state”, uciakeru “confess”, siraseru “inform”, setumeisuru “explain”, etc. Verbs specific to ‘projected interrogative’ clauses: kiku “ask”, tazuneru “ask”, situmonsuru “inquire”, etc. Verbs specific to ‘projected imperating’ clauses: tanomu “ask”, motomeru “request”, susumeru “advise”, meireisuru “order”, etc.

There are also sets of verbs of saying which describe various manners of saying, such as tubuyaku “mutter”, donaru “cry”, hozaku “grumble” and domoru “stutter”, and also those which describe behaviour that involve vocalization, such as sakebu “shout”, wameku “bawl out” and umeku “groan” etc. (cf. Miyajima 1972). Since these verbs all have the potential to project a locution, they fall into the category of processes of saying in Japanese. The verbal domain in Japanese further extends through the intermediate behavioural region towards the material domain. Verbs of behavioural processes, such as warau “laugh” and tameiki-o tuku “sight”, are pressed to represent acts of saying. But moreover, verbs of non-saying kinds, which intrinsically cannot project a locution, such as hurimuku “turn around”, okiagaru “get up”, ositukeru “push” and hana-o narasu “sniff ”, may accompany a projected locution. In such cases, the meaning of ‘saying’ is metaphorically suggested by the Negotiatory marker -to as shown below. (24)

Minami-ga hana-o niotte kuru narasita. smell carefully smells s.insist proj.q Minami-ga sniffed Projection Sayer/ Behaver Process ““Smell carefully, it smells!” Minami (said and) sniffed.” [Memusiri]

.. Mental processes The experience of our own processes of consciousness is construed in the grammar of Japanese as a distinct process type: mental processes. The different facets of consciousness – thinking, intending, hoping, seeing, feeling, etc. – are construed in five distinct subcategories within the general class of mental processes: ‘cognitive’, ‘intentional’, ‘desiderative’, ‘perceptive’ and ‘emotive’ (which is further divided into ‘reaction’ and ‘feeling’). In this section, I will discuss each type with respect to the nature and possibility of projection, the type of phenomenality and other features.



 Kazuhiro Teruya

Figure 4.3 The most general system of verbal processes

Figure 4.4 The most general system of mental processes

In any process of sensing, of whatever type, there is always one participant without whom the process may never come into being: a Senser who “senses” the phenomena of reality in various ways. The grammatical role of Senser has a “value restriction” (Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: 57), in that the Senser is prototypically an entity endowed with consciousness, in Japanese as in English (Halliday 1994: 114) and other languages (see the chapters on French, Tagalog & Pitjantjatjara in this volume). In other words, the Senser is typically realized by a nominal group denoting a human being (see Figure 4.4).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

Table 4.8 Options open to each subtype of mental process11

(25)

Ano hi-no koto-o atasi-wa kangaete iru. that day-o koto-o I-wa am thinking Phenomenon Senser Process “I am thinking about that day.” [Jazz]

The phenomena sensed by the Senser differ with respect to the way they are realized lexicogrammatically; they are either (i) a ‘phenomenon’ realized by a “simple thing” that represents an entity, quality or process (Halliday 1994: 115) or (ii) a ‘hyperphenomenon’ realized by a “macro thing” that codifies a more complex physical or mental event (see Matthiessen 1995, for hyperphenomenon in English). Hyperphenomenon are further classified into two classes: (ii-a) ‘impinging on sensing’, realized by a rankshifted nominal clause, and (ii-b) ‘created by sensing’, realized by a projected clause. Types (i) and (ii-a) are similar in that they hold the status of participant, whereas type (ii-b) is construed as a clause projected by mental process. Each of these different classes of phenomena codified by the grammar are connected with a particular type of sensing. As a first step, processes of sensing can be categorized into two primary types with respect to the possibility of projection, that is ‘projecting’ and ‘non-projecting’, as shown in Figure 4.4. The systemic options available for each subtype of mental process are summarized in Table 4.8 above. In what follows, I will sketch each of these types, categorizing them further into subtypes and at the same time characterizing the different types of phenomena I have just introduced.

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Mental processes that can project the content of sensing as a clause are categorized into three types, ‘cognitive’, ‘intentional’ and ‘desiderative’. Examples are given below. – – –

‘cognitive’ processes: kangaeru “think”, bunsekisuru “analyse”, rikaisuru “understand”, sinziru “believe”, etc. ‘intentional’ processes: kimeru “decide”, keikakusuru “plan”, kuwadateru “attempt”, itosuru “intend”, etc. ‘desiderative’ processes: nozomu “wish”, inoru “pray”, kitaisuru “expect”, negau “desire”, etc.

These three types can project a phenomenon created by sensing, but the type of clause they project differs with respect to the interpersonal mood enacted through the projection (cf. Matthiessen & Teruya, forthcoming). As shown below, cognitive processes project propositions realized by declarative mood, while both intentional and desiderative processes enact proposal realized by optative mood. Intentional processes in particular entail interpersonal meanings such as “determination” and “readiness” that are realized by volitional form of verbs, (si)yoo “will do”, while desiderative processes enact “desire” and “volition” realized by the suffix [si]-tai “want to [do]”.12 This similarity between the intentional and desiderative types is also reflected in the type of nominals preselected to be Phenomenon; both types select action nouns such as dassoo “escape”, sibai “play”, etc., while all the projecting types select various abstract nouns such as hankyoo “repercussions”, kaci “value”, etc. (26)

man-mo woman-mo eternal love-ga exist proj.r Projection: proposition sinzite ita. believed Process: cognitive “Both men and women believed that eternal love exists.” [Hutari]

(27)

> as an adult grow up long time will work proj.r Projection: proposal kessinsita. decided Process: intentional “I decided to grow up to be a member of society and work longer.” [Nikkei]

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

(28)

negatta. girlfriend-o want to have proj.r wished Projection: proposal Process: desiderative “I wished to have a girlfriend.” [Wakaki]

With respect to type (ii–a), where the Phenomenon is realized by a rankshifted nominal clause that impinges on Senser’s consciousness, the desiderative type differs from both the cognitive and the intentional in one respect: it can be configured not only with a ‘fact’ clause (like both cognitive and intentional types) but also with an ‘act’ clause. The ‘fact’ clause is typically downranked by the grammatical item -koto(-o) (as in example (29)) and represents a phenomenon as something highly abstract, while the ‘act’ clause (as in example (30)) is grammaticalized by -no(-o), which reifies a state of affairs into something actual. (29)

Kaisya-wa [[Amerika-ni sinsyutusuru]] koto-o kimeta. company-wa America-ni advance koto-o decided Senser Phenomenon: fact Proc: intent. “The company decided to make inroads into the American market.” [Kihon]

(30)

[[Ame-ga huru]] no-o inotte, . . . rain-ga fall no-o pray Phenomenon: act Process: desiderative “We pray for rain . . . (we pray that rain falls . . . )” [Nikkei]

As the term suggests, the non-projecting type cannot project a clause. There are two types of non-projecting mental processes, ‘perceptive’ and ‘emotive’; the ‘emotive’ type encompasses two subtypes: ‘reaction’ and ‘feeling’. Some examples of each type follow. – – –

‘perceptive’ processes: miru “look”, kiku “listen”, kaku “smell”, aziwau “taste”, kanziru “feel”, etc. ‘emotive: reaction’ processes: odoroku “surprise”, okoru “get angry”, nayamu “worry”, kurusimu “suffer”, etc. ‘emotive: feeling’ processes: urayamu “envy”, tanosimu “enjoy”, osoreru “fear”, uresigaru “glad”, kawaigaru “love”, omosirogaru “be amused”, etc.

Perceptive processes represent visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory and tactile sensing. As for phenomenon perceived by the Senser, the perceptibility is an important property of perceptive processes. This is why a Phenomenon in perceptive clauses must be realized by a thing, and if it is a composite thing, it must be an embedded act clause. This contrasts with cognitive processes, which are configured with a metathing (such as a fact clause) as Phenomenon or which project a metathing as an idea.

 Kazuhiro Teruya

(31)

Ginko-wa sanbika-to orugan-no oto-o kitta. Ginko-wa hymn-to organ-no sound-o heard Senser Phenomenon: concrete Process: perceptive “Ginko heard a hymn and the tone of an organ.” [Hanauzumi]

Both emotive types construe emotions in various ways, and this semantic feature motivates treating them as a single type; but lexicogrammatically they form distinct subtypes. ‘reaction’ processes represent emotions engendered through a Senser’s reaction to some phenomenon, thus the Senser is more like a ‘reacting Senser’ (Martin 1996: 251). In this configuration, the marking of the Phenomenon is distinctive: unlike the Phenomenon in other mental construals, it is marked by -ni. The Phenomenon in this case implies causation and can be a concrete or abstract (macro)thing. In reaction clauses, the Phenomenon may be absent; in this case, it is realized in another way, for instance, as an enhancing clause of “reason”. (32)

Watasitaci-wa [[kare-ga kyuuni okoridasita]] no-ni we-wa he-ga suddenly getting angry no-ni Senser Phenomenon: act odoroita. suprised Process: reaction “We were surprised at him suddenly starting to get angry.” [Kihon]

The emotive ‘feeling’ type of process has a specific property which distinguishes it from the reaction type, that is, bidirectionality; it is inherently bidirectional, with emotion being construed either as (i) ranging over the phenomenon; or (ii) an emotive property attributed to a Medium. In the former case, the emotion is represented as a feeling type of mental process, whereas in the latter case, it is represented in an ascriptive relational process (see Section 4.4.3). There are a number of sets of processes with mental and relational counterparts such as tanosimu/tanosii “enjoy/ enjoyable” and osoreru/osorosii “fear/fearful”. An auxiliary element, -garu, makes this semiotic correspondence more productive: it turns adjectives into verbs and adds the meaning of exteriorizing an inner feeling or state (Nishio 1972: 23; Kudo 1994: 8), for example, oresii/uresi-garu “happy/be happy” and kawaii/kawai-garu “lovely/love”. (33)

Anata-wa watasi-o kiratte irassyaru n desyoo. you-wa me-o dislike-hrf-supp Senser Phenomenon Process: feeling “You don’t like me, do you?” [Kokoro]

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

.. Relational processes Relational processes, i.e. processes of being, construe relations between two entities. By discerning these relations, we see how our experiences of the world are segmented into parts linked as a “whole” by the “patterns of relations” of these parts (Jakobson 1960: 114). In Japanese, these patterns of relations are categorized into two types: ‘expansion’ and ‘existential’ (see Figure 4.5 on page 218). The expansion type sets up relations between two elements, where one element is expanded semantically through another in various modes. The existential type, on the other hand, relates an entity to the fact of its existence. I will discuss each in turn, illustrating some aspects of their subtypes that bring out distinctive characteristics of relational processes in Japanese. The intensive expansion type, i.e. X-wa A (da) “X is A”, involves at least two entities, X and A.13 The nature and number of participants depend on how the expanding relation is set up between these two entities. The choice between the two primary options (‘as descriptor’ and ‘as entity’ as shown in Figure 4.5) below is based on the type of elements that realize the entity A. With the ‘as descriptor’ type, A is realized by adjectival groups, and with the ‘as entity’ type, by nominal groups. The ‘as descriptor’ type sets up relationship of property ascription between two entities. This type of relational process is about a class membership and can be characterized in terms of two participant roles, Carrier and Attribute. The element that serves as Carrier is an instance of the property that functions as Attribute. The Attribute is, as mentioned already, realized by an adjectival group. Attributive processes may be composed of three functional roles (in this case, the Process is generally conflated with the Attribute): “Carrier + Grounds + Attribute” or “Carrier-domain + Carrier + Attribute’. As shown in the following examples, the Grounds, marked by -ni, specifies against what areas, field, state, entity, etc. (i.e. on what “grounds”) a Carrier is said to have the particular property signified by the Attribute. The Carrier-domain, marked by -wa, sets up a frame of reference, or “domain” in which the Carrier is embedded; in this context, the semantic relations between Carrier-domain and Carrier are characterized and classified as, for instance, part-whole relations, ownership relations, angle-emotional assessment relations, etc.14 (Example (34) shows a bidirectional process of the type mentioned at the end of Section 4.4.2 – it pairs with a process of the ‘mental: emotive: feeling’ type.) (34)

Kare-wa kikai-ni yowai. he-wa mechanics-ni weak Carrier Grounds Attribute “He is weak in mechanics.” [IPALa: 1241]

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Figure 4.5 The most general system of relational processes

(35)

Watasi-wa [[haha-ni aeta]] koto-ga uresii. I-wa mother-ni could meet koto-ga glad Carrier-domain Carrier Attribute “I am glad that I could meet my mother.” [IPALa: 2471]

In the ‘as entity’ type, one of the two entities, entity A, is realized by a nominal group, and there are two participants, Token and Value. The Token is an element that is characterized, specified, classified, signified, named or defined by the Value; and the Value is in turn an element carrying meanings that allow it to play such function. Or, to describe such processes according to semiotic, theoretical concepts deployed by Matthiessen (1991, 1995a) and Davidse (1992), the Token “instantiates” or “realizes” or “is realized by” a Value, thus their relationship is either instantiation or realization. In Japanese, when the structural sequence is Token ^ Value, it constitutes a ‘decoding’ relationship, and when it is a Value ^ Token, an ‘encoding’ relationship. The distinction between ‘decoding’ and ‘encoding’ is an important discriminatory principle, as the coding direction seems to have distinctive semantic properties, (non)specificity and (un)identifiability, that are crucial in realizing relational pro-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

cesses and, for other languages such as English, are marked overtly by (in)definite articles. In Japanese, such coding relations thus constitute different semantic relations. When the relation is ‘decoding’, the Token instantiates a Value and they stand in an attributive (ascriptive) relation, more specifically a relationship of quality ascription,15 while in ‘encoding’ processes the Token realizes a Value and they stand in an identifying relation. The attributive relation construed through a nominal Attribute is different from the type of attributive process already discussed, i.e. the ‘as descriptor’ type whose Attribute is adjectival. I will return to this point after illustrating the ‘decoding’ and ‘encoding’ types. In the decoding orientiation, the attributive relations mapped onto the order of Token ^ Value can be further characterized in terms of two of the functions outlined for the ‘as descriptor’ type attributive relations, Carrier and Attribute. The mapping of the decoding dimension is one-directional, and the Attribute is realized by a nominal group. In the “nominal Attribute” configuration, a Token conflated with a Carrier is instantiated by the “significance” or “meaning” that is coded as a Value conflated with an Attribute; and the Value is in general the combination in varying proportions of two semantic values, “a thing” and “characteristics”. (36)

Seiko-wa ningen da. Seiko-wa human is Carrier/Token Attribute/Value Process nominal “Seiko is a human being.” [Tonbo: 138]

(37)

Kanozyo-wa yasasii seikaku da. she-wa kind character is Carrier/Token Attribute/Value Process adjectival nominal “She is a kind character.”

In the encoding orientation, two entities of different orders of abstraction are organized in such a way that the less abstract entity defines, describes or identifies the more abstract entity; or to put it differently, the entity which is more redundant with meaning serves as a Token and identifies another entity serving as a Value for which the interstratal relationship between wording and meaning is less clearly established. Thus the relation of identification is mapped onto the coding configuration of Value ^ Token, and in the unmarked case it is arranged in the direction from Identifier to Identified. This semantic vector, Identifier-Identified, is another experiential variable by which an identifying relation is organized. But unlike the decoding attributive relations, the encoding identifying type is bidirectional, thus there is at least one other experiential ordering, i.e. Identified ^ Identifier, and this represents a marked identifying relation. In general, the real-

 Kazuhiro Teruya

ization of the Value overtly differentiates these two identifying orientations: in the unmarked identification, the Identifier/Value is realized by a ‘nom.gp-wa’ (as in example (37)), whereas with the marked version, it is realized by a ‘nom.gp-ga’ (as in example (38)). (38)

[[Bussitu-o kooseisuru]] kihontekina ryusi-wa gensi dearu. material-o compose basic particle-wa atoms are Value/Identified Token/ Process Identifier “The basic particles from which all material is composed are atoms.” [Kagaku: 14]

(39)

Sikasi, kore-ga sensoo nanoda. but this-ga war is Value/Identifier Token/Identified Process “But this is the war.” [Nire]

One of the frequently used types of lexical verbs realizing relational processes (other than the nominal endings da/dearu “is”) are verbs typically used in verbal processes, iu “say” and yobu “call”. With these processes, the Token or Value is projected and is marked formally as a projection by -to, as shown in example (40) below. But in such a context, these verbs are relational processes in that, for instance, marking them aspectually does not cause a semantic shift to represent the continuation of processes, as it would in the case of verbal processes. (40)

Eigo-dewa neko-no koto-o “cat”-to iu. English-dewa cat-no koto-o “cat”-proj.q say Circ: means Value/Identified Token/Identifier Process “In English, “cat” says neko.” [Kihon]

As mentioned already, the coding direction (either ‘decoding’ or ‘encoding’) with respect to the two structural functions, Token and Value, is an important discriminatory principle in relational processes. It serves to signal the relation as either attributive or identifying when the Value is realized by a nominal group. This grammatical codification is motivated semantically in that it denotes (in)definiteness; in Japanese, therefore, this semantic property is coded rather cryptically (in comparison to its overt grammaticalization by the use of (in)definite articles in other languages such as English). The decoding (i.e. nominal Attribute) type of relational process is in some sense intermediate between the adjectival Attribute type the encoding (identifying) type. The nominal Attribute in Japanese serves as Subject and in this sense it is different from the adjectival Attribute, which cannot serve as Subject without being nominalized and given the status of a thing by the suffix -no (see Section

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

4.4.2 regarding the formation of ‘act’ clauses with -no). For example, an adjectival Attribute kowai “dreadful” (as in sensoo-wa kowai “War is dreadful”) can be nominalized as kowai-no “dreadful one” and turned into a Subject as in kowai-nowa sensoo da “A dreadful thing is a war”. In relation to the number of participants, the nominal Attribute type is closer to the encoding identifying type than to the adjectival Attribute type, because both the decoding and encoding clause types have two participants. One of the interesting grammatical features of relational processes in Japanese is the structural reversibility that exists between the nominal Attribute type and the identifying type. The distinction between these two types is rather indeterminate and the two domains are continuous (see Halliday 1994: 128–129, for indeterminacy between nominal attributive and identifying relational processes in English). This is because the distinction is clearer at semantic level than at grammatical level (if not in the context). In general, as noted above, the distinction is made by coding orientation rather than by overt markers of definiteness (such as determiners, as in English). However, grammar may also help reinforce the semantic distinction made by the coding orientation as discussed already: verbs of saying such as iu “say” specify the encoding orientation for naming and defining. Further, a nom.gp-ga that realizes the X in X-wa/ga A da “X is A” also marks the encoding orientation where the Identifier is the Value. Example (41) is an encoding identifying clause that has a nominal ascriptive variant, the only difference being in nominal marking: (41)

Kore-wa sensoo nano da. this-wa war is Carrier Attribute Process “This is a war.” [Asahi net]

Apart from intensive relations, there are other types of relation represented by relational processes: circumstantial relations and possessive relations. Because of the space constraints, I will not be able to discuss them here, but I will instead provide an example of the possessive type in which an existential process, aru “exist/be”, represents the possessive meaning “have”. This illustrates the motivation of the inclusion of the existential type as a subtype of relational processes in Japanese. (42)

Kaeru-niwa heso-ga aru. frog-niwa bellybutton exist Possessor Possessed Process: relational: possessive Location: spatial Existent Process: existential “Frogs have bellybuttons.” [Bun]

 Kazuhiro Teruya

As mentioned, existential processes are a type of relational process. One of the characteristics of existential processes in Japanese a semantic distinction, the animacy of the participant (the Existent), is captured in the verbs of being through which existential relations of the animate or inanimate thing are brought into being. The most general existential verb for an animate Existent is iru ‘be’, and that for an inanimate Existent is aru ‘be’. Another inherent, but optional, element in existential clauses is a circumstance of spatial location realized by a nom.gp-ni, which specifies a place where a state of existing is established. (43)

Watasi-wa koko-ni iru. I-wa here-ni exist Existent: animate Location: spatial Process “I exist (I am here).” [Hasire: 171]

(44)

Niwa-ni sakura-no ki-ga aru. garden-ni cherry-no tree-ga be Location: spatial Existent: inanimate Process “In the garden, there is a cherry tree.” [Kihon]

The state of existing may be brought into being as an outcome of processes of behaviour or movement. This is an ‘existence-plus’ type of existential process, and in this case the verbs realizing the process are marked aspectually as continuous form to represent the continuation of the result (Kudo 1995: 84) on the Existent. (45)

Syoozyo-wa hinata-ni suwatte ita. girl-wa sunny place-ni was sitting Existent Location: spatial Process “The girl was sitting in a sunny place.” [Kyozin]

Existence is quantifiable, and in Japanese, quantified existence may be represented by adjectives serving as a Process, such as nai “be+none”, ooi “be+numerous”, sukunai “be+few”, musuuno “be+countless”. What motivates the inclusion of existential processes in the system of relational processes is agnation. Existential processes are agnate with possessive relational processes; they typically share the same structural patterns: nom.gp-niwa + nom.gp-ga aru ‘exist’. The distinction between the two types is simple: if the nom.gp-niwa is an entity, the clause is possessive, whereas if it represents spatial location, it is interpreted as existential. Compare the possessive process clause in example (42) with the existential clause in example (44).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

.. Material processes The domain of material processes – processes of doing and happening – is very extensive, so the lexicogrammar for construing these processes also has to be similarly extensive. At least in terms of lexis, it seems to be much more extensive than the lexicogrammar of any of the process types I have illustrated so far. Consequently I cannot deal with the whole domain in this limited space, so what follows will have to be sketchy, but should still bring out some of the characteristics identified in the domain of doing and happening. In doing so, I will also make some reference to the circumstantial transitivity system in Japanese. In a ‘material’ clause, there is a process of doing or happening and a participant inherent in that process, the Actor, realized by nom.gp-ga (or nom.gp-ni if the clause is ‘receptive’). Depending on the type of process, there may also be another participant – a Goal or Scope, both of which are realized by nom.gp-o, or a Beneficiary, which is marked by -ni. In general, there is no strict semantic restriction on the class of ‘thing’ realizing the Actor role, unlike the roles of Sayer and Senser already discussed. In material clauses, the presence or absence of an Agent, i.e. an “external causer” that brings about the configuration of Medium + Process in the ergative perspective, serves as a discriminatory criterion which defines boundaries within the material domain. The role of Agent in Japanese does have some semantic restrictions: not every causer or instigator of a material process can be construed as an Agent. Natural phenomena such as earthquakes and typhoons, for example, even though they cause physical changes to things as shown in example (46) below, cannot be construed as Agent (Kudo 1990; Muraki 1991); rather, they are construed as a circumstance of Manner/Means. In other words, what is a “doing” in meaning may be represented as a “happening” in wording. (46)

Tatumaki-de mura zentai-ga kaimetusita. tornado-de whole village-ga destroyed Means/Manner Actor/Medium Process “The tornado destroyed the whole village (By the tornado, the whole village was destroyed).”

Thus if the Agent is absent, the process “happens”, whereas if it is present, the Agent “causes” the process to happen, and the process is thus interpreted as “doing”. Two types of material process are therefore manifested in the lexicogrammatical resources: the ‘doing’ type and the ‘happening’ type. Before illustrating these two primary material process types, I will interleave the discussion here with a brief note on the system of circumstance, which provides a resource for describing the context relevant to a particular experience with respect to time, space, manner, etc. as shown in Figure 4.6 (cf. Gengogaku

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Figure 4.6 Partial network of circumstance16

Kenkyukai 1983; Suzuki 1972). Circumstances are realized by nominal groups or by postpositional phrases; they are marked differently from participants by specific markers (particles) such as -ni (dative), -kara (ablative), -made (terminative), -de (instrumental/locative) and -e (directional). These formal markings may serve on the surface as an indication of the functional status of nominal group in question; however, the semantic class of nominal group is a more critical determinant. For

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

instance, a nom.gp-ni, which has an intermediate status between participant and circumstance, may realize various functions: if the nominal group relates to time, then it realizes a ‘temporal location’, if place, then it is a ‘spatial location’, but if it is a conscious being then it is either a ‘recipient’ or a ‘receiver’. Circumstantial elements are in principle attendant on the clause nucleus rather than directly involved in it. But for construing particular transitivity meanings, the presence of certain circumstances may be indispensable. In the following illustration of the ‘doing’ type of material clause, I will show how some circumstances are interlocked with certain material subtypes. Processes of the doing type are categorized into two further subtypes with respect to the status of the Goal: (i) ‘creative’ material processes, where the Goal is brought into existence by the Actor; and (ii) ‘dispositive’ material processes, where a pre-existing Goal is affected by the Actor. The most general and representative verb which realizes the ‘creative’ type in Japanese is tukuru “make”. The entity that is brought into being by a creative process may be concrete or abstract (cf. Kyan 1997). In creative processes, the configuration may be extended to include the ‘Means’ by or from which the Goal is brought into being, as in example (47). (47)

Ani-wa ki-de tukue-o tukutta. elder brother-wa wood-de desk-o made Actor Means Goal Process: creative “My elder brother made a desk with wood.” [Kiso: 323]

The ‘dispositive’ material processes are distinctively different from the ‘creative’ type in that here the Goal/Medium is a ‘pre-existing’ entity that is changed in some way, transitively, by being affected by the process, or ergatively, by actualizing the process. Dispositive material processes can be further categorized into three subtypes according to the way Medium is affected or actualized: ‘elaborating’, ‘enhancing’ and ‘extending’.17 These types are distinguished from each other semantically and grammatically (by the number and type of participants and circumstances involved in the process), as outlined below. Each of these types can be categorized into more delicate subtypes as mapped out in the system network in Figure 4.7 on page 227. The ‘elaborating’ material dispositive type encompasses two types: (i) ‘contact’ such as utu “hit”, kaku “scratch”, daku “hold” and sasu “stub”; and (ii) ‘alteration’ such as hiyasu “cool”, kiru “cut”, tomeru “stop” and hosu “dry”. They are named according to the ways that Goal and Process materially interact through the Actor’s involvement, that is, by coming into contact with, or attaching to, some entity.

 Kazuhiro Teruya

‘Process: material: doing: dispositive: elaborating: contact’ (48)

Yokuzitu-no hiru cikaku booi-ga doa-o tataita no desu. next day-no around midday bellboy-ga door-o knocked Location: temporal Actor Goal Process “Around midday the next day, a bellboy knocked at the door.” [Sei]

The ‘enhancing’ processes are categorized into three subtypes: (i) ‘attachment’, (ii) ‘detachment’ and (iii) ‘transfer’. All three types are similar in one respect: the functional structure in which these relations are realized form a four-element configuration. That is, they involve a circumstance of the ‘spatial location’ type as well as a process and two participants. Here the involvement of this circumstantial element is more obligatory than optional in construing these specific material meanings; the Goal is attached to, detached from or transferred to a particular spatial location. Verbs construing these types are (i) for the ‘attachment’ type: haru “stick”, ueru “plant”, sageru “hang”, etc.; (ii) for the ‘detachment’ type: nuku “pull out”, hazusu “take off ”, hanasu “separate”, etc.; and (iii) for the ‘transfer’ type: dasu “take out”, utusu “transfer”, nageru “throw”, etc. ‘Process: material: doing: dispositive: enhancing: detachment’ (49)

Kare-wa kabe-kara e-o hazusita. he-wa wall-kara painting-o removed Actor Loc: spat: contiguity: separation Goal Process “He removed the painting from the wall.” [IPALv: 318]

The processes of ‘extension’ construe situations where goods are exchanged between one interactant and another; the situation here is a social one. The social relationship between interactants is set up as one person initiates an exchange of goods by ‘giving’ them and the other accepts the goods by ‘receiving’ them. This social exchange is manifested in the grammar as two types: ‘giving’ and ‘receiving’, and these processes ‘extend’ a nuclear configuration to include an interactant involved in the exchange. In the mode of ‘giving’, it is realized as a participant, a Recipient, marked typically by -ni; in the mode of ‘receiving’, it may be realized as either a circumstance (of spatial location) or a participant, the Benefactor. The paradigm of verbs of giving and receiving in Japanese construe experientially the interpersonal relationships of the tenor between the interactants; sets of verbs of ‘giving’ such as yaru, ageru and sasiageru (“give”) and those of ‘receiving’ such as itadaku and morau (“receive”) construe meanings of honorification and politeness. Therefore, the social stratification is enacted through the exchange of goods is represented experientially in Japanese.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

Figure 4.7 The most general system of material processes

‘Process: material: doing: dispositive: extending: giving (honorific)’ (50)

Watasi-wa sensei-ni oseibo-o sasiageta. I-wa teacher-ni year-end gift-o gave-hrf Actor Recipient Goal Process “I gave my teacher an end-of-year gift.” [Kihon: 213]

Another major material process type, the ‘happening’ type, is self-engendering, thus it involves no external causer as with the ‘doing’ type. This type construes various modes of happening, but can be distinguished into two types with respect to the instigation of the process, as processes may or may not be “internally” instigated by an Actor/Medium. The instigated processes are termed ‘motional’ and can be divided into two further subtypes: ‘behaviour’ processes such as suwaru “sit”, kagamu “stoop” and noru “ride” and ‘movement’ processes such as iku “go”, ociru “drop” and tooru “go through” (the further subtypes of movement processes are shown in Figure 4.7). The non-instigated processes are those of an ‘eventive’ type such as aku “open”, umaru “be buried” and toreru “come off ”. The functional configurations in which both instigated and non-instigated processes play a role

 Kazuhiro Teruya

may or may not involve a Scope that specifies the range or domain associated with the process, as shown for an instigated (‘motional’) process in example (51). ‘Process: material: happening: motional: movement’ (51)

Watasi-wa eki-o oriruto . . . I-wa station-o when . . . descend Actor Scope Process “When I get out at the station . . . ” [Biruma]

. The theme system and theme structure The clause as message organizes ideational and interpersonal meanings into a quantum of information in the unfolding text. The pattern of organization is different from both the prosodic and the configurational patterns of the other metafunctions observed so far: textually, the clause patterns as a ‘wave’ of information (Matthiessen 1992, 1995a, 1995c), with peaks of prominent information and troughs of non-prominent information. In Japanese, there are several strategies by which this wave-like prominence is realized. These realization strategies include the relative sequence of elements, with prominence decreasing from the first position or later positions in the clause; intonational marking, in particular the location of the major pitch movement; and sequential marking – particles that mark prominent elements. Thus the distinction between prominent and non-prominent information, organized into Theme + Rheme and Given + New, is important for Japanese texture just as it is for English texture (as pointed out by Martin 1992). In this section, however, I will focus on only one of these structural patterns: Theme + Rheme. To do so, I will first explore Theme at clause rank, focusing on its morphological realizational markers with reference to the experiential marking of participants and circumstances already discussed. Then I will look at Theme in discourse context in order to achieve a discourse-based understanding of the function of Theme and consequently observe how texts unfold to meet certain textual demands imposed by the experiential content and/or interpersonal exchange. In Japanese, there are morphological signals which can be taken as a way of enunciating the textual status of the immediately preceding element. These are known as topical or theme markers; -wa is a representative and general instance (cf. Mikami 1964; Kuno 1973; Shibatani 1990; Teramura 1991; Ootsuki 1987; Okuda 1956; Ishikami 1988), but there are others with an additional features of, for example, negation (-sika), emphasis (-sae), quantity (-mo), etc. (Suzuki 1972). Such morphological signals help identify the realizational relationship be-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

tween experiential roles and their thematic marking with respect to markedness of thematization. In summary: – –

– –

any participants or circumstance can be thematized by being marked by a theme marker such as -wa or -mo; participants are marked by a theme marker alone, as in nom.gp-φ ^ -wa, except Beneficiary and Receiver roles, which are marked in a similar way to circumstances, i.e. nom.gp-ni -wa; circumstances are marked by a circumstantial nominal marker and a theme marker as in nom. gp.-de ^ -wa, nom. gp.-kara -wa, etc.; a projected clause may also be thematized, as in projected clause-to ^ -wa.

The elements that are given textual prominence by being marked with -wa etc. most typically appear first in the clause and set out a framework for how the clause as message may be interpreted. We can therefore postulate that the clause-initial position is textually significant in Japanese and that the Theme is realized by the frontal positioning of thematized elements (e.g. nom.gp-wa) in the clause. To verify this working hypothesis, the notion of clause-initial position has to be clarified with reference to thematically marked and unmarked constituency.

.. Thematic markedness As discussed already, the textual mode of structure is like a wave of prominence, with peaks of prominence and troughs of non-prominence. These textual waves are “carried” (i) by an ideational constituency structure, by means of the ordering of constituents or by marking them in terms of prominence; and (ii) by interpersonal prosodic structures, by means of the ordering of prominent prosodies (such as major pitch movements) to indicate textual prominence. Thus the mode of textual structure is expressed by these “carriers” of ideational and interpersonal components, i.e. constituency and prosody respectively (see Matthiessen 1992). In the analysis here we can employ the notion of “experiential carrier” (i.e. constituency) to explore thematic markedness, since constituency boundaries are more distinct than prosody. In this way, we can observe which experiential carriers are most marked or unmarked in taking clause-initial position. Table 4.9 on page 230 summarizes the thematic markedness of experiential carriers across four process types in Japanese. The assignment of thematic prominence to experiential carriers is textually motivated. Thematic carriers set up a local context for each clause that gives a particular interpretation of the clause. As shown in Table 4.9, the system of voice, which defines the status of clause as operative (active) or receptive (passive), plays an important textual role in assigning thematic status to experiential carriers:

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Table 4.9 Marked and unmarked Themes across process types process type

material

mental verbal

existential relational: ascriptive

ascribed nonascribed identifying assigned nonassigned

operative (active) clause if effective Subject/Medium if middle unmarked marked theme theme Actor Goal Scope Recipient Senser (Phenomenon) Sayer Receiver Target (Verbiage) Location Existent

receptive (passive) clause Subject/Medium if effective unmarked marked theme theme Goal Actor Scope Recipient Phenomenon Senser Receiver Sayer Target Verbiage

Subject/Agent

Attributor Token/Carrier (Carrier-domain) Assigner Value/ Identified

Attributor Token/Carrier Assigner Token/ Identified

for instance, if the clause is receptive, it places participants other than Agent (or Medium) in clause-initial position, which in turn provides the potential of making the Agent (or Medium) implicit. For example: (52)

1947nen irai zyosei-nimo byoodoo-no kenri-ga ataeraremasita. since 1947 women-nimo equal-no rights-ga have been given Loc: temporal Recipient Goal Process: material Theme Rheme “Since 1947, women have also been given equal rights.” [Handbook]

In Japanese, thematically marked constituents (nom. gp.-wa, -mo etc.) can be taken as marking the end of the thematic peak unfolding from the beginning of the clause. However, this is not how the category of Theme is defined. There are elements such as circumstances of time as shown in example (52) that typically occur in the first position of the clause. So here we need to define the Theme functionally: the Theme of the clause is (an) element(s) given the status of the “local context” (Matthiessen 1995a: 531–532, 1995c) in which the meanings of the clause are presented. The Theme has also been characterized as “the point of departure” (Halliday 1994: 37), “an orienter to the message” (Fries 1995), etc.; these characterizations point to a similar semantic value of a kind of epicentre from which a message swells and expands to form textual wave.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

As discussed already, theme/topic markers (e.g. -wa) are taken as a realizational criterion of themehood. In the range of registers I have examined, the -wa element is typically realized clause-initially. However, other elements may also occur clauseinitially, before the -wa elements; these are: – – – –

conjunctive Adjuncts: sunawaci “i.e.”, nazenara “because”, sosite “and”, keredomo “but”, etc.; continuative Adjuncts: hai “yes”, iie “no”, eeto/ nnto “well”, ee “uhh”, etc.; interpersonal Adjuncts: mociron “of course”, tabun “probably”, zehi “at any cost”, etc.; Vocatives: Nakadakun “Mr Nakada”, kora “hey”, doroboo “robber”, etc.

For instance, the conjunction konotame “because of this” in example (53) below expresses continuity from the previous clausal environment to what follows it, expanding some aspect of it; and the interpersonal modal Adjunct akireta “amazing” in example (54) specifies an interpersonal environment in which a speaker’s interpersonal assessment of the relevance of the message preceding it is enacted. Here the term “topical Theme” refers to the Theme that has the experiential status of participant: (53) Konotame, gensi-no situryoo-wa . . . kazu-no wa-ni yotte hobo kimaru. because of this atomic-no mass-wa number-no total-ni almost decided conj. topical Theme Theme Rheme “Because of this, the atomic mass is measured according to the total number.” [Kagaku] Unlike experiential constituents, neither of these textual and interpersonal elements can be thematized by means of -wa, but these elements that precede the experiential Theme are semantically in line with the definition of Theme given above. Because the Theme includes elements that may not be overtly marked by thematic markers, we can tentatively derive the following two recognition criteria for Theme in Japanese (cf. Hasan & Fries 1995, for recognition criteria): 1. whatever precedes the element marked by -wa or another theme marker is the unmarked Theme; but 2. if a participant or circumstance precedes the element marked by -wa or another theme marker, this participant or circumstance is the marked Theme. In other words the Theme always extends up to and includes the element marked by -wa or another theme marker; if a structural or interpersonal element precedes

 Kazuhiro Teruya

the element marked by -wa, this is unmarked, whereas an experiential element that precedes the element marked by -wa constitutes a marked Theme. (54)

Akireta, >-mo wakatte nai non ne. amazed lie-ga lie-de what-ga true ka-mo don’t know no ne Adjunct topical Theme projected clause Theme Rheme “Amazing, you don’t even know lies are lies, and what is true.” [Adamu]

In what follows I will enquire into these recognition criteria, shifting the perspective of Theme from clausal level to text level to bring out the nature of thematic development.

.. Thematic development In this section, I will show the thematic development of two texts that are registerially different: a scientific exposition and a news article (for a narrative text, see Thomson 1996). The registerial differences are reflected partly in how the information flows in the texts; and in the case of these texts, the experiential carriers of Themes are organized into sequences of thematic progression which achieve contextual demands assigned to the texts. Thus, by shifting the perspective to text, we will then be able to characterize the dynamics of Theme. The first text, Gensi-no koozoo (“Atomic Structure”), is taken from a first-year high school science textbook. The text introduces ideational taxonomic knowledge realized predominantly by relational processes, and it is thematically developed by meronymic elaboration. This is shown clearly by its thematic progression, which follows two major patterns: Rheme → Theme progression and Theme → Theme progression. (The thematic progression is shown diagrammatically in Figure 4.8 on page 236 below, where Rheme → Theme progression is shown as solid arrows, and Theme → Theme progression is shown as broken arrows.) In this text, experiential participants are the carriers of Themes, and they are readily identified according to the given recognition criteria: they are overtly marked by -wa, with the single exception of the thematic conjunctive realized positionally. Text 4.4 Gensi-no koozoo “Atomic Structure” (1)

Bussitu-o kooseisuru kihontekina ryuusi-wa gensi de aru. material-o compose basic particles-wa atoms is Identified Ir Pr: rel Theme: unmarked Rheme “The basic material from which all material is composed are atoms.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

(2)

Gensi-no koozoo-o siraberu to atoms-no structure-o when study Scope Process: mental Rheme . . . “If (we) study the atomic structure,” [[[[cyuusin-ni sei-no denka-o motta]] gensikaku-ga ari centre positive-no charge-o possess atomic nucleus-ga exist [[[[Loc: spat Attribute Proc: rel]] Existent Proc: rel . . . Rheme . . . “there is an atomic nucleus with a positive electric charge in the centre,” [[sono [[hu-no denka-o motta]] densi-ga torimaite iru]] mawari-o that negative-no possess electrons surround exist surrounding electric change-o -ga -ing [[Attribute Pr: rel]] [[Loc: spat Existent Proc: relational]] Carrier . . . Rheme . . . “and surrounding it there are electrons with a negative charge,” koto-ga akirakani natta. koto-ga clear became Attribute Process: relational . . . Rheme “(it) becomes clear.” “If (we) study the atomic structure, it becomes clear that there is an atomic nucleus with a positive electric charge in the centre, and electrons with a negative electric charge surrounding it.”

(3)

Korera-no seilu-no denka-wa turiatte ori, these-no positive & negative-no electric charges-wa are balanced Carrier Attribute Theme Rheme “These positive and negative electric charges are balanced,”

(4)

gensi-wa denkitekini cyuusei de aru. atoms-wa electrically neutral are Carrier Matter Attribute Process: relational Theme Rheme “atoms are electrically neutral.”

 Kazuhiro Teruya

(5)

Gensikaku-wa sarani [[sei-no denka-o motu]] atomic nucleus-wa furthermore positive-no electric charge-o possess Attribute Proc: rel Carrier Attribute . . . Theme Rheme . . . yoosi-to, [[denkitekini cyuusei de aru]] cyuusei-kara dekite iru protons-to electrically neutral are neutrons-kara consist Matter Attribute Proc: rel . . . Attribute Proc: rel . . . Rheme “An atomic nucleus, furthermore, consists of protons with a positive electric charge and electrically neutral neutrons.”

(6)

[[Gensikaku-o kooseisuru]] yoosi-no kazu-o gensibangoo-to iu. atomic nucleus-o compose protons-no number-o atomic number say Carrier Attribute Identifier Identified Pro Rheme “The number of protons composing the atomic nucleus is called the atomic number.”

(7)

[[Yoosi-no motu]] denka-to [[densi-no motu]] protons-no possess electric charge-to electrons-no possess Carrier-domain . . . Theme . . . denka-wa hugoo-ga hantai-de electric charge-wa signs-ga opposite-de . . . Carrier-domain Carrier Attribute . . . Theme Rheme “The electric charges of protons and electrons have signs opposite to each other;”

(8)

ookisa-ga hitosii. size-ga same Carrier Attribute Theme Rheme “the size is the same.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

(9)

Gensi-dewa yoosi-no kazu-to densi-no kazu-ga hitosii node, atoms-dewa protons-no electrons-no same bnd number-to number-ga Carrier Attrib Theme Rheme “As for atoms, the numbers of protons and electrons are the same,”

(10)

[[gensi-no motu]] densi-no kazu-wa gensibangoo-ni hitosii. atoms-no possess electrons-no atomic number same number-wa Carrier Mann: compsn Attrib Theme Rheme “the number of electrons in an atom is the same as its atomic number.”

(11)

Yoosi-to cyuusei-no situryoo-wa hobo hitosiku. protons-to neutrons-no masses-wa almost same Carrier Attribute Theme Rheme “The masses of a proton and a neutron are almost the same,”

(12)

densi-no situryoo-wa yoosi-no situryoo-no yaku 1/1840 de aru. electrons-no masses-wa protons-no masses-no about 1/1840 are Carrier Attribute Pr: rel Theme Rheme “the mass of an electron is about 1/1840 that of a proton.”

(13)

Konotame gensi-no situryoo-wa yoosi-no kazu-to because of this atom-no mass-wa proton-no number-to Identified Identifier . . . Theme Rheme . . . cyuuseisi-no kazu-to wa-ni yotte hobo kimaru. neutron-no number-to total-ni yotte roughly is decided . . . Identifier Proc: rel . . . Rheme “Because of this, the atomic mass is calculated according to the total number of protons and neutrons.”

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Figure 4.8 Thematic progression in atomic structure text

(14)

Yoosi-no kazu-to cyuuseisi-no kazu-no wa-o situryoosuu-to iu. proton-no neutron-no total-o mass unit-to say number-to number-no Identified Identifier Proc: rel Rheme “The total number of protons and neutrons is called a mass unit.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

The predominance of relational processes in the above text is motivated experientially by the need to set up taxonomic relations between two entities through attribution or identity, and the characteristics of atoms are illustrated as something general and constant through time. Here, the generality or constancy of quality or identity of the Medium in middle clauses or the Agent in effective clauses is realized grammatically by a nom.gp-wa. This requires a little explanation. In Japanese, when the Medium or Agent describes the generality, inevitability or constancy of a phenomenon (cf. Ootuki 1987) as shown in examples (55) and (56) below, it is in general marked by -wa rather than by the nominative participant marker -ga. This relates to the fact that when the Medium or Agent is marked by -ga it comes to represent a temporal phenomenon. These functions of -wa and -ga can be seen by comparing examples (56) and (57). (55)

Cikyuu-wa marui. the earth-wa round Medium Process/(Range) “The earth is round.”

(56)

Tori-wa tobu. bird-wa fly Medium Process “Birds fly.”

(57)

Tori-ga tobu. bird-ga fly Medium Process “The bird is flying (just about to fly).”

Given the fact that all the Themes in the above text follow the general semantic principle assigned to the different realizations of Medium or Agent that I have just discussed, these realizational characteristics of Medium or Agent as the carrier of thematic function should have a significant implication for the grammatical status of Theme and textual organization. To make this clear, let us consider another text that is registerially different from the previous one. Text 4.5 is a news article about an airplane crash, and its generic structure consists of three parts: ‘Report: introduction’, ‘Recount: orientation’ and ‘Recount: record’ (cf. Martin 1992). The thematic analysis here is based on the semantic definition of the Theme – local contextualization of a clause in a text – and on the hypothesis discussed earlier about the thematic significance of clause-initial position, and the recognition criteria for Theme listed as (a) and (b) above. The analysis illustrates two types of experiential carriers of Theme: participants and circumstances. The thematic participants are realized either by a nom.gp-wa or (most typically) by a nom.gp-ga, and they are all unmarked. The

 Kazuhiro Teruya

circumstantial Themes are either temporal or spatial locations. In the English translation, circumstantial Themes are underlined, and thematic participants are shown in bold. In the illustration of thematic progression in Figure 4.9, I have excluded all the circumstantial Themes so as to provide an explicit illustration of the thematic development with respect to participants. Text 4.5 ‘Report: introduction’ (1)

[[Kankoku: Saisyuutoo-no kuukoo-de tooka, Taikan kookuuki-ga Korea: Cheju Island-no airport-de 10th Korean Airline-ga Location: spatial . . . Theme: circumstance . . . cyakuriku-ni sippaisita]] ziko-de zyookyaku-no Tookyooto landing-ni failed accident-de passenger-no Tokyo . . . Location: spatial Actor . . . . . . Theme: circumstance Theme: participant . . . Setagay-ku Shirowasa 4 cyoome, Takeuchi Kunikosan (54)-wa Setagaya-ku Shirowasa 4 cyoome Mrs Kuniko Takeuchi (54)-wa . . . Actor . . . Theme: participant ennzyoo cyokuzen-no kitai-kara dassytusita. in flame right before-no airplane-kara escaped Location: spatial Proc: material Rheme “In the accident in which the Korean Airline airplane failed to land at the airport in Cheju Island, Korea, on the 10th,a passenger, Mrs Kuniko Takeuchi (54), of 4 Shirosawa, Setagaya-ku, Tokyo, escaped from the airplane which was about to go up in flames.”

(2)

Takeuchisan-wa doozitu gogo Saisyuutoo-no hoteru-de Mrs Takeuchi-wa same day afternoon Cheju Island-no hotel-de Sayer Location: temporal Location: spatial Theme: participant Rheme . . . Asahi sinbunsya-no kokusai denwa-ni taisite Asahi Newspaper-no international telephone-ni regarding Matter . . . Rheme . . .

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

dassyutuzi-no moyoo nado-o katatta. time of escape-no circumstance etc.-o told Verbiage Proc: verbal . . . Rheme “Mrs Takeuchi, at the Cheju Island Hotel on the afternoon of the same day, told the Asahi Newspaper on the international telephone about the circumstances of the escape.” ‘Recount: orientation’ (3)

[[Otto-no Yoshiyasan (58)-to hutari-de Kankoku ryokoocyuu husband-no Yoshiya (5a)-to two people-de on Korean tour Actor . . . Theme: participant . . . datta]] Kunikosan-wa tooka asa Soura-kara was Kuniko-wa 10th morning Seoul-kara . . . Actor Loc: temporal Loc: spatial . . . . . . Theme: participant Rheme . . . Saisyuutoo iki-no Taikann kookuuki-ni notta. Cheju Island go-no Korean airplane-ni boarded . . . Loc: spatial Proc: material . . . Rheme “Kuniko, who was travelling with her husband, Yoshiya (58), boarded the Korean Airline plane for Cheju Island in Seoul in the morning on August 10.”

(4)

Zaseki-wa mae-kara yonretume-no migigawa. seat-wa front-kara fourth row-no right side Identified Identifier Theme Rheme “Their seats were on the right side in the fourth row from the front.”

‘Recount: record’ (5)

Tocyuu-de sankai hodo on the way-de three times about Location: spatial Extent: temporal Theme: circ Theme: circumstance [[-tono]] kinaihoosoo-ga ari, exist-tono in-flight announcements-ga exist . . . Verbiage Process: verbal . . . Theme: participant Rheme “During the flight, about three times, there were announcements which said “we have turbulence”,” (6)

kitai-ga yureta aircraft-ga shook Actor Process: material Theme Rheme “the aircraft shook.”

(7)

Cyakuriku-no toki syarin-ga kassoori-ni tuita-noni landing-no time undercarriage-ga runway-ni touched-bnd Location: temporal Actor Loc: spat Proc: mat Theme: circumstance Theme: particpnt Rheme “At the time of the landing, although the undercarriage landed on the runway,”

(7.1) sokudo-ga ocinakatta. speed-ga didn’t drop Actor Process: material Theme Rheme “the speed didn’t drop.” (8)

Sono uci [[gatun gatun-to iu]] syoogeki-ga soon bang bang-to say shock-ga Loc: spat Actor Th: circ Theme: participant “Soon a shock, “bang, bang”, came.”

kita. came Proc: mat Rheme

(9)

>-to omottara, thing-ga was able to see-to thought-cond . . . Phenomenon Process: mental Process: mental . . . Rheme “(I) thought (I) was able to see something like a brown wall outside the window,”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

(9.1) [[doon-to iu]] oto-ga site, bang-to say sound-ga did Actor Process: material Theme Rheme “the sound “bang” occurred,” (9.2) uyoku-ga butukatta. right wing-ga crashed Actor Process: material Theme Rheme “the right wing crashed.” (10)

Syoogeki-de kubi-ni itami-ga shock-de neck-ni pain-ga Cause Location: spatial Actor Theme: circ Theme: circ Theme: participant “Because of the shock, pain ran through my neck.”

hasiru. run Proc: mat Rheme

(11)

Mado-ni doromizu-ga hanekakattekita. window-ni mud-ga splashed Location: spatial Actor Process: material Theme: circ Theme: participant Rheme “Mud was splashed over the windows.”

(12)

Zenyasan-ga Zenya-ga overrun escape-vol Sayer Attribute Process: material Theme Rheme “Zenya (said), “It’s an overrun. Let’s escape”.”

(13)

Cikaku-no > to ittan seisisita-ga. sucyuwaadesu-ga nearby-no sit please first stopped stewardess-ga -proj.q -bnd Sayer Process: material Ext: temp Proc: verb Theme Rheme “A nearby stewardess stopped (us) at first, (saying) “please sit down”, but,”

 Kazuhiro Teruya

(14)

suubyoogo-ni Kankokugo-de to sakenda. after a few Korean-de quickly escape-proj.q shouted seconds-ni Loc: temporal Manner: means Process: material Pr: verb Rheme “several seconds later, (she) shouted in Korean, “Escape quickly”.”

(15)

Dassyutu syuuto-no saigo-no tokoro-ga orinikuku. escape chute-no end-no place-ga hard to get through Carrier Attribute Theme Rheme “The end of the escape chute was difficult to get through.”

(15.1) Kankoku-no kodomotaci-ga to Korean-no children-ga omma (mummy), cry omma proj.q Sayer Process: verbal Theme Rheme “Korean children cried, “Omma (Mummy), Omma”.” (16)

Okaasantaci-wa to [[sakini tanonde orita]]hito-ni ita. mothers-wa hand-o lead-imp proj.q first got off was asking person-ni Sayer Goal Proc: material Receiver Pr: verbal Theme Rheme “Their mothers (said), “lead the children by the hand”, to the passengers who got off first.”

(17)

[[Syuuto-de orite iru]] tocyuu, usiro-de bakuhatuon-ga sita. chute-de getting in the back-de explosive did off way sound-ga Location: spatial Loc: spat Actor Pr: mat Theme: circumstance Th: circ Th: particpnt Rheme “While (we) were getting off through the chute, behind our backs an explosive sound occurred.”

(18)

Kitai-kara abura-ga moreta no ka, aircraft-kara oil-ga leaked int Location: spatial Actor Process: material Theme: circ Th: particpnt Rheme “The oil may have leaked from the body of the plane,”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

(19)

kusamura-ga moete ita. grass-ga was burning Actor Process: material Theme Rheme “the grass was burning.”

(20)

Nukarunda mici-o nihyaku meetoru gurai nige, muddy road-o 200 metres about run Range Extent: distance Process: material Rheme “(I) ran away about 200 metres in the muddy road,”

(21)

azemici-no yoona tokoro-ni agatte, rice field-no yoona place-ni go up Location: spatial Process: material Rheme “ran up to a path like that between rice fields,”

(22)

hurikaeruto, turned back-cond Process: material Rheme “turned back,”

(23)

kitai-ga hi-ni tutumare, aircraft-ga fire-ni surrounded Carrier Attribute Theme Rheme “the body of the aircraft was surrounded by fire,”

(24)

kuroi kemuri-ga tatte ita. black smoke-ga was pouring out Actor Process: material Theme Rheme “black smoke was pouring out.”

The semantically motivated identification of Theme points to the two types of overt grammatical markers of thematic participant status, namely, nom.gp-wa and nom.gp-ga. The Theme realized by the former is unproblematic as it follows the recognition criteria given above, but the latter requires clarification. The most typical clausal context in which the Medium or Agent is realized by a nom.gp-ga is material clauses; in contrast to this, the Medium of relational clauses is generally marked by -wa. The different function of these markers was

 Kazuhiro Teruya

shown in examples (56) and (57) above: example (56) shows how a nom.gp-wa captures the characteristics of an event or phenomenon, i.e. generality, inevitability or constancy, whereas the nom.gp-ga in example (57) represents a rendering of phenomenal action as it occurs, i.e. contingency. These two contrastive semantic values are in principle assigned to clauses of doing and being respectively; and their various combinations provide the particular semantic texture of a text. Text 4.4 shows explicitly that the realization of the Mediums of relational processes, i.e. nom.gp-wa, conforms to the textual organization coordinated by the thematic marker -wa. In contrast, the general experiential marking of thematic participants across all process types in the news report is overridden. This takes place because the textual motivation that is associated with the generic nature of the text is to recount a factual event as an iconic rendering of an event. That is, irrespective of process types, the experiential carriers in the generic stage ‘recount: record’ are all (except human participants) realized by a nom.gp-ga. According to the semantic values associated with the different markings of Medium or Agent discussed above, the deployment of the textual principle underlying the use of nom.gp-ga as thematic carriers suggests that it is motivated by the need to tailor experiential phenomena into something that is impermanent or contingent. This textual phenomenon can be related to the semantic continuity of clauses over which the same Theme extends. According to Hinds (1983), who investigates topic continuity in Japanese based on the measures of “distance” and “decay” proposed by Givón (1983), nominal groups (“phrases” in his terms) marked by -ga exhibit less topic continuity than nominal groups marked by -wa. His findings are in fact complementary to the textual motivation underlying the different grammatical marking of Themes I have discussed. Here I have assigned at the clause level the semantic value of, say, “constancy” to Themes realized by nom.gp-wa and “contingency” to Themes realized by nom.gp-ga, while Hinds’s findings suggest that, within a text, Themes realized by nom.gp-wa are more persistent and Themes realized by nom.gp-ga are less persistent. In the diagram in Figure 4.9 on page 245, the broken arrows indicate the progression of Theme-wa, and the solid arrows indicate Rheme → Theme-ga progression. Table 4.10 summarises the functions of the Theme markers -wa and -ga. This complementarity supports the account given of the grammatical nature of Theme based on which the news report text was analysed and clause-initial elements marked by -wa or by -ga were identified as Theme. The Theme sets up a local context for a clause, which in turn contextualizes the clause relative to other clauses that together constitute a textual wave movement. Therefore, it is possible to conclude that the local contextualization of a clause in a text that is facilitated by the function of Theme is made at the beginning of the clause in Japanese and that the Theme is, in the case of participants, realized by either nom.gp-wa or nom.gp-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

Figure 4.9 Thematic progression – airplane crash text

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Table 4.10 Semantic characteristics of topical Theme

at clause level within text

topical Theme nom.gp-wa constancy, generality, inevitability higher persistency/continuity

nom.gp-ga contingency lower persistency/continuity

ga depending on the semantic-functional motivation that is assigned to clauses at the level of both the clause and the text. With respect to the findings, I can adjust the recognition criteria by adding another criterion: (c) when the element described in (a) and (b) above is absent, the element marked by -ga is Theme, and the Theme extends up to and including that element marked by -ga. The recognition criteria I have proposed exclude another type of Theme that I call an absolute Theme – a Theme which has neither a participant nor a circumstantial role. In the following example, gensi-dewa “as for atoms” does not hold any experiential role in the attributive relational process. However, as exemplified below, the absolute Theme satisfies the functional definition of Theme in Japanese, and I have included it in the most general system of ideational theme in Japanese as shown in Figure 4.10 below. (25)

Gensi-dewa yoosi-no kazu-to densi-no kazu-ga hitosii atoms-dewa protons-no number-to electrons-no number-to equal Carrier Attrib absolute Rheme Theme “As for one atom, the numbers of protons and electrons are the same . . . ” [Kagaku]

What I have dealt with in this section is a seamless textual wave movement or “periodicity” (Halliday 1978: 136); and I have imposed upon it particulate structure of Theme to bring out the thematic structure that enables experiential and interpersonal meanings to be integrated in a text in a manner which satisfies the semantic motivation underlying the text. The wave-like or periodic nature of thematic structure may pose a problem; as Hasan and Fries (1995: xxxvii) point out with regard to the different views on the criteria for determining the extent of Theme in English: “. . . the entire debate of where Theme “stops” and where Rheme “begins” is itself perhaps an artefact of how analysis is represented”. They thus argue against the assimilation of the textual wave into particulate structure. But given that the textual metafunction is an enabling function (Matthiessen 1995c), and that what is enabled to hang together as a text has a particular structural pattern that forms a particulate structure, it is then possible to assume that in that derived particulate

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese  ->* explicit

general Theme: nom.gp-wa etc. non-general Theme: nom.gp-ga

major

implicit *-> absolute theme Theme/no experiential role relative theme Theme/participant or circumstance

unmarked theme marked theme Theme: nom.gp-wa etc. thematic participant Theme/participant thematic circumstance Theme/circumstance

operative Subject/Agent if effective Subject/Medium if middle receptive Subject/Medium

Figure 4.10 Ideational theme systems

structure, we may find evidence of the textual wave movement, left imprinted as the text unfolds. At least in Japanese such an imprint is traceable. The overt Theme markers such as -wa, -ga, etc. record peaks or the highest value of thematic amplitude, and together with succeeding peaks that appear after some rhematic troughs, they form textual wavelengths whose textual period may vary depending on the persistency of the Theme as reflected in thematic markers, -wa, -ga, etc. as discussed above. In Japanese, the clause-initial position is textually significant, as it is from this point that a message swells and expands to form a textual wave; the epicentre of the textual wave is in general overtly marked in order to guide readers towards a particular interpretation that the text is assigned to construe.

. Conclusion: Next step into new description for typological survey A description is never the phenomenon described, but whatever phenomenon is being described, we can strive to make the description reflect the phenomenon as closely as possible. In this chapter, I have described the grammar of modern Japanese and brought out salient characteristics of the multidimensional organization of the clause as a metafunctional construct. This description will put into perspective the standard typological classification of Japanese as a SOV language – a structural detail in the overall grammar. In closing the chapter, I will review each metafunctional contribution to grammatical organization and address tasks that may have implications for future typological studies. With regard to the interpersonal metafunction, the end of the clause was identified as significant in that that is where interpersonal parameters are set by

 Kazuhiro Teruya

Predicator and/or Negotiator. In the dynamic enactment of interpersonal meaning, these interpersonal variables help construct the flow of an exchange. The Subject is bonded with the Predicator and is the nub of argument around which the whole exchange revolves. In the description of mood types, I briefly discussed the optative mood as indeterminate but treated it as a category of the ‘demanding’ type. This is motivated grammatically, but I also wanted to point out an example of the grammatical shifts from one category to another, i.e. whereby interpersonal moves demanding propositions and proposals are enacted. For instance, non-finite form of verbs, such as Itte “Go!”, have come to realize a Predicator, in the dynamics of spoken discourse, to enact the imperative mood. In a spoken-language-oriented description of interpersonal meaning, we need to take into account of those realizational variables of mood that are being dynamically extended and diversified in modern Japanese. In the ideational metafunction, I identified the four cardinal process types as experiential variables that shape our experiences of the (non-)material world. Because of the limited space, I was unable to extend the discussion further in delicacy. Such an extension would make the language-specific properties more evident. As was demonstrated, circumstantial variables serve as important discriminators for further subcategorization of experiential properties, through the quantification of the correlation between qualitatively derived nuclear and circumstantial categories. I believe that this quantification of ideational properties is one of the important aspects of typological studies; no identified category is instantiated at the same rate in the overall potential of either any particular language or all human languages. Thus similarities between languages may present themselves rather differently when they are quantified with respect to language-specific potentials for construing experiential meanings. In contrast to the interpersonal concern with the end of the clause, clauseinitial position was found to be textually significant; that is where Theme is realized, to contextualize a clause in a text and in turn to help to organize the clauses in the unfolding text. The challenge in explicating the textual organization of the clause with respect to the beginning and end of the Theme was its wave-like property. In the chapter I met the challenge by imposing a particulate ideational structure on the textual organization and proposed the generalized patterns of the realization of the local context in a clause as recognition criteria for Theme in Japanese. The proposed recognition criteria apply to a micro textual organization, i.e. a clause simplex, and thus can be further extended to include macro-theme realized by a clause that sets up a local context within a clause complex. When another criterion for recognizing clausal Theme is added, this does not however mean that the existing criteria have to be changed. In other words, the initial position in the clause is still thematically significant. This is because an initiating clause is realized clause-initially by a clause that is expanded by its continuing clause. In the

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

discussion of the textual function, I excluded information structure. Once this is unravelled in the future with respect, not to ideational, but to interpersonal carriers (since Given and New are typically given prominence by intonation), it should then be possible to capture more thoroughly the textual wave movement created concurrently by thematic and informational structures. The grammar of standard, modern Japanese that I have described here is, like the grammars of other languages, evolving even at this moment, recapitulating the expansion and contraction of its meaning potential, and diversifying the variations that may be taken as typological similarities or differences with other human languages, which may also continue to diversify and create semogenic history of their own.

Notes . This system is simultaneous with process type. In contrast with material processes, all other process types are more restricted in taking an Agent. . The notion of word is controversial in Japanese linguistics. I characterize words as follows: (i) words are a unit in the rank scale below groups/phrases and above morpheme; (ii) words are related to the higher-ranking units realizationally; (iii) words are an integral of lexical meaning and grammatical function; and (iv) words may vary with respect to the integrity of meaning and function: some words are semantically dependent on other words but formally independent such as postpositions and copulas. (cf. Suzuki 1994) . This is a subtype of imperative mood, the ‘indirect’ imperative mood – the other subtype being ‘direct’ imperative. The difference between the two subtypes becomes clearer when a speaker as a Beneficiary is added to these configurations. In the direct imperative clause, the speaker is construed as a Recipient, “one that goods are given to”, but in the indirect imperative clause, the speaker is construed as a Client, “one that services are done for”. . In Japanese, the simultaneous systems TENSE and ASPECT are ideational systems. The main argument for locating those systems within the domain of the ideational metafunction is that the ideational system PROCESS TYPE co-specifies particular tense/aspect features of a verbal group together with those systems. See Okuda (1979/1985) and Kudoo (1995). . This mood is located between giving and demanding. . Other realizational patterns that may realize optative mood, such as site-morai-tai “want someone to do (it for me)”, and its honorificative variants, site-itadaki-tai, come to realize the meaning of proposal, because the hearer is construed as a service provider: a Benefactor. Thus such optative clauses are closer to imperative clauses, for they may enact direct proposals. See Okuda 1986. . The text used here is an extract from “A Conversation between Adam and Eve” by Shuntaro Tanikawa. He assigns the name “Adam” to the male protagonist and “Eve” to the female one, in order to represent the prototype of male and female.

 Kazuhiro Teruya . Hori (1995) also discusses this aspect of honorifics but the conclusion she draws is critically different from mine; she concludes that Japanese doesn’t have Subject. . In fact, verbal clauses involving a non-conscious Sayer in English often correspond to different clause types (such as mental) in Japanese. For instance, the Japanese equivalent of an English clause “My watch said 12 o’clock” would be Watasi-no tokei-dewa “according to my watch” 12zi “12 o’clock” desu “is”, i.e. “By my watch, it is 12 o’clock”. . Having said that, I must note here that when the projected clause is interpersonally charged with the enactment of Negotiation other than the question marker -ka, it can be assumed that the projection represents the actual wording, i.e. quoted rather than reported, for the Negotiation is one of the distinctive characteristics of spoken Japanese. . Some options such as ‘non-phenomenalised’,. i.e. without a Phenomenon, are not specified here. . See Teruya (forthcoming) for the semantic categories of ‘intention’ and ‘desideration’ realized at the ranks of clause, group and word. . I have used the term “entities” here to avoid the term “participants”. When an Attribute is realized by a so-called i-adjective such as kawai-i “pretty”, the Attribute is generally conflated with a Process, thus Carrier + Attribute/Process as in Kodomo-wa kawaii “The child is pretty”. . The underlying principles here are ‘fractal principles’. See Matthiessen (1995b), Halliday & Matthiessen (1999). . The distinction between ‘property ascription’ and ‘quality ascription’ is based on the semantic status of elements, ‘adjectivals’ and ‘nominals’, that realize ‘adjectival Attribute’ and ‘nominal Attribute’ respectively. The terms ‘property’ and ‘quality’ correspond to the Japanese terms tokusei and situ proposed by Okuda (1988) for the semantic categorization of nominals and adjectivals. The difference between the two is temporal specification: the quality is in general persistent through time, and the property is in general temporary. For instance, inherent qualities such as sex, species, nationality, etc. that are nominalized are generally persistent through time, thus relational clauses with nominal Attribute of this kind do not appear in past tense as far as its Token is present at the time of speech event (cf. Satoo 1997: 157). . This is partial, because features that are not particularly relevant for the discussion (such as ‘accompaniment’ and ‘role’) are not represented. . Note that these subtypes of dispositive processes are named for the type of expansion that occurs within the clause (the “expansion” of the Medium + Process configuration by circumstances and other participants); these names correspond to the types of expansion that clauses themselves can enter into when two or more clauses are combined by logical relations into clause complexes. Nominal groups also combined into complexes by these types of expansion; i.e. there is a fractal principle at work here (cf. Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: Chapter 5).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Japanese 

References Primary sources In the chapter, the primary sources are abbreviated and given in square brackets as shown below. [Ai] = Tanikawa, Shuntaro. Ai-no panse. 1986. Mikasa Syoboo. [Asahi net] = Asahi Shinbun. Internet (WWW page: http://www.asahi.com). [Biruma] = Takeyama, Micio. Biruma-no tategoto. 1947. In CD-rom. Shinchosha Bunko-no 1 satu. 1995. Shinchosha. Shinchosha Bunko. [Bun] = Inoue, Hisasi. Bun to Hun. 1970. CD-rom. Sincyoosya Bunko-no 1-satu. Shinchoosha. [Handbook] = Satoo, Takeroo. A Handbook Introducing Japan in English. 1992. Soogensya. [IPALv] = IPAL. Keisankiyoo Nihongo kihon doosi ziten IPAL: kaisetu-hen (Japanese basic verbs dictionary for computer IPAL: dictionary). 1997. Zyoohoo Syori Sinkoo Zigyoo Kyookai. Gizyutu Centaa. [Kagaku] = 1995. Kootoo Gakkoo Sin Kagaku IB. Dai-ici Gakusyuusya. [Kihon] = Koizumi. T. et al. (Eds.). Nihongo Kihon Doosi Yoohoo Ziten. 1989. Tokyo: Taisyukan Publishing Company. [Kitchen] = Banana Yoshimoto. Kitchen. Tokyo: Fukutake Shoten. 1988. [Kokoro] = Natume, Sooseki. Kokoro. 1919. In CD-rom. Shinchosha Bunko-no 1 satu. 1995. Shinchosha. Shinchosha Bunko. [Me musiri] = Ooe, Kenzaburoo. Me musiri. 1965. Sincyoo Bunko. [Nikkei] = Nikkei Sinbun. [Ongaku] = Murakami, Ryuu. Ongaku-no kaigan. 1993. Kadokawa Syoten. [Sei] = Kurahasi, Yumiko. Seisyoozyo. 1965. In CD-rom. Shinchosha Bunko-no 1 satu. 1995. Shinchosha. Shinchosha Bunko. [Wakaki] = Huziwara, Masahiko. Wakaki suugakusya-no nayami. 1978. In CD-rom. Shinchosha Bunko-no 1 satu. 1995. Shinchosha. Shinchosha Bunko. [Yukiguni] = Kawabata, Yasunari. Yukiguni. 1947. In CD-rom. Shinchosha Bunko-no 1 satu. 1995. Shinchosha. Shinchosha Bunko.

Secondary sources Davidse, Kristin (1992). “A Semiotic Approach to Relational Clauses”. In Dirk Noël (Ed.), Occasional Papers in Systemic Linguistics, Vol. 6 (pp. 99–131). Fukui, Nagisa (1998). “A Description of the Mood System of a Set of Japanese Spoken Dialogic Texts”. Unpublished paper, University of New South Wales, Department of Japanese. Fries, Peter H. (1995). “Themes, Development and Texts”. Hasan & Fries (Eds., pp. 317–359). Gengogaku Kenkyuukai (Ed.). (1983). Nihongo bunpoo-rengoron (siryoo hen) [Japanese grammar-rengotics: data]. Tokyo: Mugi Publishers.

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Givón, Talmy (1983). “Topic Continuity in Discourse: An introduction”. In Talmy Givón (Ed.), Topic Continuity in Discourse: A quantitative cross-language study (pp. 1–42). Amsterdam & Philadelphia: Benjamins. Halliday, M. A. K. (1978). Language as Social Semiotic: The social interpretation of language and meaning. London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. (1994). An Introduction to Functional Grammar. London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. & Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen (1999). Construing Experience as Meaning: A language based approach to cognition. London: Cassell. Hasan, Ruqaiya & Peter H. Fries (Eds.). (1995). On Subject and Theme: A discourse functional perspective (pp. 317–359). Amsterdam & Philadelphia: Benjamins. Hinds, John (1983). “Topic Continuity in Japanese”. In Talmy Givón (Ed.), Topic Continuity in Discourse: A quantitative cross-language study (pp. 44–93). Amsterdam & Philadelphia: Benjamins. Hori, Motoko (1995). “Subjectlessness and Honorifics in Japanese: A case of textual construal.” Hasan & Fries (Eds., pp. 151–185). Ishikami, Teruo (1988). “Wa-to ga – syudai to syugo [Wa and ga – topic and subject]”. Kooza Nihogo-to Nihongo Kyooiku. Dai 4-kan Nihongo-no Bunpoo-buntai (zyoo) [Lectures: Japanese and Japanese language education. Volume 4, Japanese grammar-style (1)] (pp. 327–354). Meizi Syoin. Jakobson, Roman (1960). “Parts and Whole in Language”. An essay based on a lecture given at the Hayden Colloquium, MIT. Reprinted in Linda R. Waugh & Monique MonvilleBurston (Eds.). (1990). On Language (pp. 110–114). Cambridge, MA. & London: Harvard University Press. Kudo, Mayumi (1990). “Gendai Nihongo-no zyudoobun [The passive clause in modern Japanese]”. In Gengogaku Kenkyuukai (Ed.), Kotoba-no Kagaku 4 [Science of Language 4] (pp.47–102). Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Kudo, Mayumi (1994). “Naiteki-taiken (sikoo, kanzyoo, cikaku, kankaku) doosi-o megkutte [On internal experience (thinking, emotive, cognitive, sensing) verbs]”. In Gengo Kenkyuukai (Ed.), 94nen-no Gengogaku Kenkyuukai hookoku [The report of Gengogaku Kenkyukai 1994]. Unpublished paper. Kudo, Mayumi (1995). Asupekuto-Tensu taikei-to tekusuto: gendai Nihongo-no zikan-no hyoogen [The aspect-tense system and text: the expression of time in modern Japanese]. Tokyo: Hitsuzi Publishers. Kuno, Susumu (1973). Nihon bunpoo kenkyuu [Study of Japanese grammar]. Tokyo: Taisyukan Publishing Company. Kyan, Masakatsu (1997). “Gendai Nihongo-ni okeru seisandoosi-no kenkyuu: doosi ‘tukuru’-no goi-imironteki bunseki [The study of productive verbs in modern Japanese: the lexico-semantic classification of the verb ‘tukuru (make)’]”. Okinawa Gengo Kenkyuu Centre Siryoo [Okinawa Language Studies Centre reference material] no. 132. Okinawa Gengo Kenkyuu Centre. Martin, J. R. (1992). English Text: System and structure. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: Benjamins. Martin, J. R. (1996). “Transitivity in Tagalog: A functional interpretation of case”. In Christopher Butler, Margaret Berry, Robin Fawcett, & Guowen Huang Meaning and Form: Systemic functional interpretations (pp. 229–296). Norwood, NJ: Ablex.

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Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (1991). “Lexico(grammatical) Choice in Text-generation”. In William Swartout, William C. Mann, & Cécile Paris (Eds.), Natural Language Generation in Artificial Intelligence and Computational Linguistics. Boston: Kluwer. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (1992). “Interpreting the Textual Metafunction”. In Martin Davies & Louise Ravelli (Eds.), Advances in Systemic Linguistics: Recent theory and practice (pp. 37–81). London and New York: Pinter Publishers. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (1995a). Lexicogrammatical Cartography: English Systems. Tokyo: International Language Sciences Publishers. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (1995b). “Fractal Principles in Language: Expansion and projection”. Paper presented at International Systemic-functional Congress 1995 held in Beijing. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. (1995c). “THEME as an Enabling Resource in Ideational ‘Knowledge’ Construction”. In Mohsen Ghadessy (Ed.), Thematic Developments in English Text (pp. 20–55). London & New York: Pinter. Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. & Kazuhiro Teruya (forthcoming). “Ideational and Interpersonal Projection: Constance and variation across languages”. Publication details. Maynard, Senko K. (1997). “Meta-quotation: The thematic and interactional significance of tte in Japanese comics”. Functions of Language, 4(1), 23–46. Mikami, Akira (1964). Zoo-wa hana-ga nagai [Elephants have a long trunk]. Tokyo: Kurosio Publishers. Miyajima. Tatsuo (1972). Doosi-no imi yoohoo-no kizyututeki kenkyuu [A descriptive study on the meaning and uses of Japanese verbs]. Kokuritu Kokugo Kenkyuuzyo hookoku 43 [The National Language Research Institute Research Report 43]. Syuuei Syuppan. Muraki, Sinjiroo (1991). Nihongo doosi-no syosoo [Various aspects of verbs in Japanese]. Tokyo: Hituzi Publishers. Nishio, Torayo (1972). Keiyoosi-no imi yoohoo-no kizyututeki kenkyuu [A descriptive study on the meaning and uses of Japanese adjectives]. Kokuritu Kokugo Kenkyuuzyo hookoku 44 [The National Language Research Institute Research Report 44]. Syuuei Syuppan. Okuda, Yasuo (1956). “Nihongo-ni okeru syugo [Subject in Japanese]”. Paper presented at the workshop of Gengogaku Kenkyukai. Reprinted in Okuda, Yasuo (1985). Kotoba-no kenkyuu: zyosetu [An introduction to the study of language] (pp. 151–279). Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Okuda, Yasuo (1963). “Bunpoo kyooiku-no kakusin-ni tuite [About the reform of the education of grammar]”. In Mikami, Akira (1964). Zoo-wa hana-ga nagai. [Elephants have a long trunk] (pp. 217–229). Tokyo: Kurosio Publishers. Okuda, Yasuo (1979). “Asupekuto-no kenkyuu-o megutte: koobi [On the study of aspect: lecture].” Kyooiku Kokugo [Educational Japanese] 53, 54. Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Reprinted in Okuda Yasuo (1985). Kotoba-no kenkyuu: zyosetu [An introduction to the study of language] (pp. 85–104). Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Okuda, Yasuo (1984). “Osihakari 1 [Supposition 1]”. Nihongogaku [Japanese linguistics], 12, 54–69. Ootuki, Kunitosi (1987). “Wa-to ga-no tukaiwake [Different uses of ‘wa’ and ‘ga’]”. Kyooiku Kokugo [Educational Linguistics], 91, 22–37. Tokyo: Mugi Publishers.

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Okuda, Yasuo (1988). “Zyutugo-no imitekina taipu [Semantic types of predicator]”. Lecture notes. The University of Ryukyus, Japan. 1–5 February 1998. Okuda, Yasuo (1986). “Macinozomi-bun (zyoo) [Optative clauses (1)]”. Kyooiku Kokugo [Educational Japanese], 85, 21–32. Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Okuda, Yasuo (1990). “Setumei (sono 1): noda, nodearu, nodesu [Explanation (1): noda, nodearu, nodesu]”. In Gengo Kenkyuukai (Ed.), Kotoba-no kagaku 4 [Science of Language 4] (pp. 173–86). Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Okuda, Yasuo (1996). “Bun-no koto: sono bunrui-o megutte [Clauses: on their classification]”. Kyooiku Kokugo [Educational Japanese], 2(22), 2–14. Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Sato, Satomi (1997). “Meisi zyutugobun-no imitekina taipu [Semantic types of nominal predicators]”. In Gengogaku Kenkyuukai (Ed.), Kotoba-no kagaku 8 [Science of Language 8], (pp. 151–182). Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Shibatani, Masayoshi (1990). The Languages of Japan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Suzuki, Shigeyuki (1972). Nihongo bunpoo-keitairon [Japanese grammar-morphology]. Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Suzuki, Sigeyuki (1994). “Gengo-no kihontekina tan’i-to site-no tango-o megutte: Nihongo kenkyuu-no taciba kara [On words as a basic unit of language: from a perspective of Japanese language studies]”. A written version of a public lecture given at the 108th Japanese Linguistics Association Conference. 11 June 1994. Takahasi, Taroo (1974). “Hyoozyungo-no doosi-to Kyootoben-no doosi [Verbs in standard Japanese and in Kyooto dialect]”. Gengo Seikatu 270. Reprinted in Takahasi, Taroo (1994). Doosi-no kenkyuu: doosi-no doosi-rasisa-no hatten-to syoositu [Studies of verbs: the development and disappearance of verbhood] (pp. 256–276). Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Teramura, Hideo (1991). Nihongo-no sintakusu-to imi III [Japanese syntax and meaning III]. Tokyo: Kurosio Publishers. Teruya, Kazuhiro (1998). An Exploration into the World of Experience: A systemic-functional interpretation of the grammar of Japanese. Macquarie University: PhD thesis. Teruya, Kazuhiro (forthcoming). A systemic Functional Grammar of Japanese. London & New York: Continuum. Teruya, Kazuhiro (in press). “Verbal processes in Japanese: A systemic functional interpretation.” CIEFL Bulletin. Lucknow & Hydrabad: Central Institute of English & Foreign Languages. Thomson, Elizabeth (1996). “Thematic Development in Momotaroo: A Japanese fairy tale”. An unpublished paper. Uemura, Yukio (1971). “Naze hoogen-o kenkyuusuru ka [Why do we study dialects?] [Why we study dialects]”. Kyooiku Kokugo [Educational Japanese], 26, 27–43. Kyooiku Kagaku Kenkyuukai: Kagaku Bukai (Ed.). Tokyo: Mugi Publishers. Uemura, Yukio (1997). “Nihongo onsei-no rekisitekina hukasa-to ci’ikitekina hirogari [Historical depth of speech sound in Japanese and its regional expansion].” In Miyoko Sugito (Ed.), Syohoogen-no akusento-to intoneesyon: Nihongo onsei 1 [Accent and intonation of Japanese dialects: Japanese Phonetics I] (pp. 21–61). Sanseido.

Chapter 5

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog J. R. Martin University of Sydney

. Ecosocial context Tagalog1 is a member of the Austronesian language family, in the Western Austronesian2 group. Its relatives in this group include other Philippine languages, Malay/Bahasa Indonesian and other Indonesian languages, Malagasy, certain languages in Kampuchea, Vietnam, Taiwan and the western end of New Guinea, and two Micronesian languages – Chamorro and Palauan. More specifically, Tagalog is a central Philippine language, alongside Bikol and the various Bisayan languages (including Cebuano with 10 million speakers). Tagalog has about 12 million native speakers, concentrated around Manila, and the island of Mindoro. Historically, it was the Tagalogs who became agents of symbolic control for the Spanish (from the 17th century; Rafael 1988) and then the American colonialists (from the early 20th century) – clergy, educators, administrators, lawyers, artists, writers, politicians and so on. Business on the other hand has tended to be controlled by the Chinese ethnic minority; and Ilocanos (Ferdinand Marcos being the best known) predominate in the police and armed forces. The election of Cory Aquino in the 1980s represented a return to political power by the Tagalogs following the Marcos militarist dictatorship. In general the Tagalogs, like many Filipinos, form a highly positional Catholic society, with social and institutional networks elaborated around the family. Access to their language and culture depends ultimately on marriage or informal “adoption” into one of these extended family groups. Tagalog has a controversial role as the basis for the national language of the Philippines, currently termed Filipino (Cruz 1990), with around 30 million speakers. There is a national “academy” to promote the development of Filipino and a keen interest among linguists3 in what the Prague School termed “intellectualiza-

 J. R. Martin

tion”. Filipino is currently propagated through the country’s bilingual education program (Filipino/English), and through the print (especially comics and magazines) and electronic media (television, and a prolific movie industry releasing three or four new films every week). Naturally the language of the agents of symbolic control for an American colony attracted the attention of American linguists. Bloomfield worked with a Tagalog graduate student in Chicago in producing his 1917 classic Tagalog Texts with Grammatical Analysis. Schachter and Otanes completed work on their wellknown Tagalog Reference Grammar around 1960 (published 1972). These treatments have made Tagalog one of the best known non-Indo-European languages in the world, and are both notably self-conscious4 in their concern to present Tagalog grammar on its own terms, rather than as a variant of what Whorf called Standard Average European (hereafter SAE). For a summary of Spanish, American and other research on Tagalog see Gonzalez (1993).

. Metafunctional preview I’ll begin with a brief orientation5 to the language, before moving on to consider transitivity, mood and theme in more detail.

.. Basic transitivity – action and description A simple action process is exemplified below, formed around the morphemes langoy “swim” and bata “child”. The infix -um- phases the process as completed action, while the pre-position ang highlights bata as Theme. In Tagalog verbal affixes specify the participant role of the Theme; in this case, alongside marking aspect, -umsignals that bata is actor in an action process. (1) Lumangoy ang bata. swam theme child “The child swam.” A simple state process is exemplified in (2) below, formed around the morphemes sarap “tastiness” and ulam “savoury dish”. In this case the maprefix marks sarap as a descriptive attribute of the thematic ulam. (2) Masarap ang ulam. tasty theme savoury dish “The dish is tasty.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Aspect is not marked in (2), since the clause is descriptive and there is no change of state. To phase dynamic processes, Tagalog uses a range of affixation, including prefixes, infixes and reduplication of the first consonant and vowel of the relevant morpheme. The three principal aspects of the action process langoy are outlined in Table 5.1 below. Table 5.1 Realizations of aspect in action processes in Tagalog realization -um-um-, reduplication reduplication

aspect begun/completed begun/incomplete not begun

example lumangoy lumalangoy lalangoy

gloss “swam” “is swimming” “will swim”

The same resources may be drawn on to phase descriptive clauses, as a marked option, as shown in Table 5.2 below. Table 5.2 Realizations of phase in descriptive clauses in Tagalog realization -um-um-, reduplication reduplication

phase begun/completed begun/incomplete not begun

example sumarap sumasarap sasarap

gloss “became tasty” “is becoming tasty” “will become tasty”

.. Basic mood – statement, question, command Simple declarative mood is exemplified in (3) below (see also examples (1) and (2) above). In this example the process is formed around the morpheme laro “game”, verbalized with the prefix mag- (so maglaro “to play”; with aspect naglaro, naglalaro, maglalaro). ‘declarative’; mid rising-falling tone6 (3) Naglaro ang bata. played theme child “The child played.” The polar question complementing (3) in (4) below employs an interrogative particle ba, which follows and is enclitic to the process; this kind of question is spoken on a rising tone. ‘interrogative: polar’; rising tone (4) Naglaro ba ang bata. played int theme child “Did the child play?” For a command, the aspectless form of the process is deployed; the person undertaking the process is realized explicitly.

 J. R. Martin

‘imperative’; high falling tone (5) Maglaro ka play theme+2sg “Play!”

.. Basic theme Tagalog, like many of its neighbours from adjacent but genetically unrelated Asian language families, can be characterized as a Topic prominent language (Schachter 1976, 1977, 1995), and there has been considerable discussion around the proper characterization of the ang phrase introduced above (as Subject or Topic; see Martin 1983; Buenaventura-Naylor 1995, for discussion). Bloomfield (1917: §93) describes this phrase as the “definite, known object underlying the predication as starting-point of discourse”; Schachter & Otanes (1972: 60) state that it “expresses the focus of attention of the sentence”. Martin (1993) (following Fries 1981, 1993) prefers the SFL term Theme, representing the unmarked point of departure in a Tagalog clause – the speaker’s angle on what is being talked about. The ang phrase is typically realized last in a decontextualized7 elicited Tagalog clause (conflating with unmarked New, according to Buenaventura-Naylor’s (1975) analysis of Tagalog information structure) – as in examples (1) to (5) above. Alternatively, the ang phrase may appear initially as marked Theme as in example (6) below, followed by the so-called “inversion” marker ay: ‘unmarked Theme’ (3) Naglaro ang bata. played theme child “The child played.” ‘marked Theme’ (6) Ang bata ay naglaro. theme child inv played “The child played.”

. transitivity Philippine languages are well-known for what is often referred to as their “focus” system. Through this system processes are affixed to signal the experiential role of the Theme (ang phrase). In examples (1), (3), (4), (5) and (6) above, the processes were affixed (-um-, nag- and mag-)8 to mark the Theme as Actor in an action process. In Figure 5.1 below the process (hiram “borrow”) is inflected (-in-) to mark the Theme not as Actor (tao “man”) but as acted upon (pera “money”). Virtually

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog  Tagalog focus system:

Figure 5.1 Verbal inflection in relation to TRANSITIVITY and THEME

all participants and circumstances in a Tagalog clause can be made thematic and focused upon in such terms. Comparable systems in SAE, generally referred to as voice, might thus be characterized as restricted focus systems – with constraints on how many participants and circumstances can be made Theme (Subject if you will) and limited verbal affixation to mark a change of voice (just active versus passive for example). In Tagalog, mapping Theme onto the participant most affected by the process is the unmarked choice (see Figure 5.1). A range of focus selections for hiram “borrow” is exemplified below, with examples adapted from Ramos’ (1974) influential case grammar. In these examples the pre-position ng (pronounced/na]/) marks non-Thematic participants and sa marks circumstances; in order to simplify the glossing these markers will not be translated. Medium/Theme (7) H-um-iram ang tao ng pera sa bangko sa pamamagitan ng borrowed theme man money bank instrumental bahay niya. house his “The man used his house to borrow some money from the bank.” Goods/Theme (8) H-in-iram ng tao ang pera sa bangko . . . borrowed man theme money bank “The man borrowed the money from the bank . . . ”

 J. R. Martin

Direction/Theme (9) H-in-iram-an ng tao ng pera ang bangko . . . borrowed man money theme bank “The man borrowed some money from the bank . . . ” Instrument/Theme (10) I-p-in-ang-hiram ng tao ng pera sa bangko ang bahay niya. borrowed man money bank theme house his “The man used his house to borrow some money from the bank.” Distinctive realizations are used to designate participants and circumstances as conscious – proper names for people take the pre-positions si, ni, kay (singular) and sina, nina, kina (plural); pronouns, which refer only to conscious entities, take a pre-position only as circumstances (sa) and otherwise provide distinctive ang and ng forms. These realization patterns are outlined in Table 5.3 below (with pronouns illustrated for first person singular only). Table 5.3 Marking of participants ± conscious Textual/experiential functions common nouns (pre-positions) Theme participant ang non-Theme participants ng non-Theme circumstances sa(+)

conscious proper nouns (pre-positions) si/sina ni/nina kay/kina

pronouns9 ako “I” ko “me/my” sa akin “to me”

Process affixes and participant and circumstance markers are important criteria as far as types of process are concerned. In addition, Martin (1996) takes into account the following factors: – – – – – –

the number and nature of the participants associated with the process the form of the relevant nominalization the type of general verb used to refer to the process the presence or absence of a process the bidirectionality of the process marked patterns in the process’s abilitative, social or causative paradigms

.. Mental processes Mental processes in Tagalog are illustrated in (11) and (12) below for the process halata “notice”; in (11) the phenomenon perceived is Theme, whereas in (12) the Theme is the perceiver.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

(11) Na-halata ng babae ang pagbabago sa boyfriend niya. noticed woman theme change boyfriend her “The woman noticed the change in her boyfriend.” (12) Naka-halata10 ang babae ng pagbabago sa boyfriend niya. noticed theme woman change boyfriend her “The woman noticed a change11 in her boyfriend.” The features which help distinguish mental processes from other process types are as follows: i. ii.

iii.

iv. v.

vi. vii.

their processes are generally realized by ma- class verbs (see examples (13) to (15) below); they may involve a projection, introduced with a linker (η/na) instead of a marker (ang/ng/sa); where the verb focuses on the projection, the mental process clause will thus lack a Theme (as in example (17) below); one key participant must be endowed with human consciousness; the other need not be and may be realized by a clause (construing an act, idea or fact – i.e. macro- and meta-phenomena); they are nominalized with the prefix pagka- (pagka-intindi “understanding”); they cannot be questioned with a general doing verb (gawa/mangyari) or with a wh verb (ano) – cf. umaano siya “what’s he doing?” querying an action process; a process is always present and realized by a verb; they have defective ability/involuntary action paradigms because their maprefix is identical to the object focus ability/involuntary action prefix (used in action clauses).

Examples of the three main types of mental process (reaction, perception, cognition) are presented as examples (13) to (15) below, along with lists of semantically related processes. ‘reaction’ (13)

Na-awa ang babae sa boyfriend niya. pitied theme woman boyfriend her Proc: mental: reaction Senser Phenomenon “The woman pitied her boyfriend.”

Semantically related processes: galit “be angry at”, gulat “be surprised at”, inggit “envy”, hiya “be ashamed of ”, tuwa “be happy about”, inis “be irritated with”, takot “be afraid of ”, lungkot “be sad about”, awa “pity”, lito “be confused about”, inip “be bored with”, balisa “be anxious about”, suklam “be disgusted with”, sabik “be

 J. R. Martin

eager for”, yamot “be annoyed with”, galak “be glad about” (“deep”12 Tagalog), poot “hate” (deep Tagalog), sawa “be fed up with”. ‘perception’ (14)

Na-dama ng babae ang kamay niya. felt woman theme hand his Process Senser Phenomenon “The woman felt his hand.”

Semantically related processes: kita “see”, dinig “hear”, puna “notice”, amoy “smell”, tikim “taste”, pansin “notice”, masdan “observe”, tanaw “view”, batid “be aware of ”, aninaw “see through a haze”, aninag “see through a transparency”, darama “feel”, dama “feel”, halata “notice”, hipo “feel by touch”, reparo “notice”, alala “to have return to the mind”. ‘cognition’ (15)

Na-limut-an ng babae ang payong. forgot woman theme umbrella Process Senser Phenomenon “The woman forgot her umbrella.”

Semantically related processes: limot “forget”, tanda “remember”, intindi “understand”, tuto “learn”, alam “know”, isip “think”, unawa “understand (be in sympathy with)”, tuklas “discover”, danas “experience”, balita “receive news”, tagpo “find out”, gusto “wish”, usisa “investigate”, wawa “get the drift of ”, kutob “have a premonition of ”, watas “understand”, tulos “catch the point of ”, damdam “feel”, asa “hope”, hula “guess”. Alongside their association with entities (the concrete phenomena in examples (11) to (15) above), mental processes combine with macrophenomena and metaphenomenon – perception with acts (16), cognition with ideas (17) and reaction with facts (18). Note that in (17) the idea is linked to its process of cognition by the hypotactic dependency marker na, and so is arguably a dependent clause; the projecting process (nakutoban) however is inflected as if a phenomenon were thematic in the projecting clause. ‘perception & act’ (16)

Na-masdan ng babae ang isda l-um-angoy13 sa tubig. observed woman theme fish swimming water Process Senser Act (embedded macrophenomenon) “The woman observed the fish swimming in the water.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

‘cognition & idea’ (17)

Na-kutob-an ng pangulo na ta-takas siya. had a premonition head dep will escape theme+3sg Process Senser Idea (dependent metaphenomenon) “The president had a premonition he’d escape.”

‘reaction & fact’ (18)

Na-suklam ang tao sa bagay na nang-daya ang pangulo. were disgusted theme people thing dep cheated theme head Process Senser Fact (embedded pre-projected metaphenomenon) “The people were disgusted with the fact that the president cheated.”

One distinctive feature of reaction processes is that the phenomenon reacted to may be construed as a kind of causal circumstance (as in examples (19) and (20)) or as an agentive participant (as in example (21))14 – reflecting the general bidirectionality of this process type. (19)

Na-gulat ang babae (dahil) sa boyfriend niya. was surprised at theme woman (because of) boyfriend her Process Senser Phenomenon “The woman was surprised at her boyfriend.”

(20)

K-in-a-gulat-an ng babae ang boyfriend niya. was surprised because of woman theme boyfriend her Process Senser Phenomenon “The woman was surprised at her boyfriend.”

(21)

G-in-ulat ng boyfriend ang babae. surprised boyfriend theme woman Process Agent/Phenomenon Senser “The boyfriend surprised the woman.”

The criteria distinguishing sub-types of mental process (reaction, perception and cognition) are outlined in Table 5.4. above Overall, these criteria oppose reaction processes (which in a sense respond to phenomena) to perception and cognition processes (which are more active). An outline of these oppositions is suggested in Figure 5.2 (for further discussion see Martin 1996).

 J. R. Martin

Table 5.4 Criteria distinguishing sub-types of mental process Senser focus affix Phenomenon focus affix Phenomenon marker (non-Theme) directionality causative affixes social affixes unmarked “clause Phenomenon” Senser marker (non-Theme)

reaction maika-/ka-. . . -an sa two-way no no fact ng

perception makamang one-way yes yes act ng

cognition makama-. . . -an ng one-way yes (if reciprocal) idea ng

Figure 5.2 Basic mental processes in Tagalog

.. Material processes Material processes (examples (1) and (3) to (10) above) differ from mental processes in Tagalog in several respects, as summarized in Table 5.5 below. As far as participants are concerned they involve an actor, and optionally an undergoer and a beneficiary.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Table 5.5 Criteria distinguishing material from mental processes verb class “undergoer” focus affix # key participants metaphenomenon participant consciousness general verb nominalizing affix abilitative/involuntary action paradigm

material -um-, mag-in-, i-, -an 1, 2 or 3 not possible ± conscious ano/ gawa/ mangyari pagfull

mental mama, ma-. . . -an, ika-, ka-. . . -an 2 possible one conscious participant – pagkadefective

One of the key puzzles as far as material processes are concerned is the significance of -um- and mag- as focus affixas. Very few verbs take both affixes, but when they do the affect on the affected participant is striking. Note the following examples from Ramos (1976) (cf. um-abot “reach for”, mag-abot “hand to”), glossed here as centrifugal or centripetal according to the trajectory of the affected goods (gulay “vegetables”). ‘centrifugal’ (22)

Nag-bili ang babae ng gulay. sold theme woman vegetables Process Actor Goods “The woman sold some vegetables.”

‘centripetal’ (23)

B-um-ili ang babae ng gulay. bought theme woman vegetables Process Actor Goods “The woman bought some vegetables.”

‘centrifugal’ (24)

I-p-in-ag-bili ng babae ang gulay sa lalaki. bought woman theme vegetables man Process Actor Goods Beneficiary “The woman sold the vegetables to the man.”

‘centripetal’ (25)

B-in-ili ng babae ang gulay sa lalaki. bought woman theme vegetables man Process Actor Goods Beneficiary “The woman bought the vegetables from the man.”

 J. R. Martin

In (22) and (23) the Actor is Theme; in (24) and (25) the goods affected is Theme. So mag- pairs with i- or ipag-, and -um- with -in-. Verbs following the mag-/icentrifugal pattern are compared with those following the -um-/-in- pattern below: centrifugal pattern mag-/i- (Ramos 1974: 84–86 class 4): abuloy “contribute”, bagsak “drop”, bigay “give”, bayad “pay”, sabit “hand”, hulog “drop”, akyat “carry up”, tali “tie”, etc. centripetal pattern -um-/-in- (Ramos 1974: 87–88 class 6): hingi “ask for”, dukot “draw out”, tanggap “receive”, agaw “snatch”, abot “reach for”, hila “pull horizontally”, hanap “search for”, etc. Following Lopez (1941) Ramos also draws attention to what he refers to as “internal” and “external” verbs. His internal class is exemplified in (26), where the participant undertaking the process is the one affected by it (-um-); this contrasts with (27), where the participant instigating the process affects another participant (mag-). (26)

B-um-angon ako. got up I Process Actor “I got up.”

(27) Nag-bangon ng bago -ng bahay ang pari. erected new dep house theme priest “The priest built a new house.” Schachter & Otanes (1972: 293) exemplify the pattern as follows: l-um-abas p-um-asok um-akyat um-alis um-uwi

“come out” “enter” “climb” “leave” “go home”

mag-labas mag-pasok mag-akyat mag-alis mag-uwi

“take out” “take in” “carry up” “remove” “take home”

Pursuing the opposition, Ramos (1974: 139) notes one further pattern, exemplified in (28) and (29). (28) P-um-utol ang babae ng kahoy. cut theme woman wood “The woman cut off a piece of wood.” (29) Nag-putol ang babae ng kahoy. cut theme woman wood “The woman cut some wood.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

With -um-, the verbs involved suggest acquisition, on behalf of the participant undertaking the process; with mag- the process is neutral in this respect. h-um-iwa p-um-unit b-um-ali t-um-aga g-um-upit

“slice off ” “tear off ” “break off ” “hack off ” “scissor off ”

mag-hiwa mag-punit mag-bali mag-taga mag-gupit

“slice” “tear” “break” “hack” “cut with scissors”

One way to generalize these three oppositions15 is to argue that action clauses in Tagalog are based on two different types of clause nucleus, where the nucleus consists of a Process and a Medium through which that Process is actualized. One of these, the -um- type is basically implosive (or centripetal): it involves events in which the Medium either simply acts, or acts on done-to’s in such a way as to draw them into the nucleus. The other, the mag- type, is basically explosive (or centrifugal, to use Ramos’s term): it involves more volatile events in which the Medium acts in a way that has repercussions for other participants – the done-to (Goods) undergoes a change of state or position. A network of oppositions reflecting this perspective is outlined in Figure 5.3 (for details see Martin 1996c), including meteorological processes involving no participants (e.g. um-ulan “it rained”) and acts which involve just one (l-um-ayas siya “s/he went away”).

Figure 5.3 Basic material processes in Tagalog

 J. R. Martin

um-ulan ‘It rained’

Process ‘ulan’

l-um-ayas si Ding ‘Ding cleared out’

Process ‘layas’ Medium ‘Ding’

k-um-uha si Ding ng beer k-in-uha ni Ding ang beer ‘Ding took some/the beer'

Process ‘kuha’ Medium ‘Ding’

Goods ‘beer’ -um-

centripetal

mag-

centrifugal

Process ‘luto’ Medium ‘Ding’

Goods ‘gulay’

Process nag-laba si Ding ng damit ‘laba’ ni-lab-han ni Ding ang damit Medium ‘Ding washed some/the clothes’ ‘Ding’

Goods ‘damit’

Process nag-labas si Ding ng basura ‘labas’ i-ni-labas ni Ding ang basura Medium ‘Ding put out some/the rubbish’ ‘Ding’

Goods ‘basura’

nag-luto si Ding ng gulay ni-luto ni Ding ang gulay ‘Ding cooked some/the vegies’

Figure 5.4 Scale of volatility for material processes in Tagalog

Figure 5.4 arranges Tagalog material processes topologically along a scale from least to most volatile. On the implosive side of the scale meteorological, intransitive behavioural and ‘ingestive’ transitive processes are aligned; on the explosive side we move through processes according to the degree to which the goods are impacted upon as reflected in the focus affixes -in- (creation and impact), -an (surface disturbance) and i- (ejection). Martin (1996c) suggests generalizing this ‘centripetal /centrifugal’ perspective across material and mental process. Figure 5.5 scales mental processes along the lines outlined for material processes in Figure 5.4, beginning with the more introverted reaction processes where phenomena impact emotionally on sensers and moving on to more extroverted perception and cognition processes where sensers

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Process ‘fear’

‘I was afraid’

Senser na-takot ako

Process ‘fear’

‘I feared the dog’

Phenomenon

Senser

reason

na-takot ako i-k-in-a-takot ko

Process ‘see’

ng aso ang aso

participant Theme

‘I saw the dog’

Phenomenon

Senser happened/able to

naka-kita ako na-kita ko

Process ‘forget’

ng aso ang aso

participant Theme

‘I forgot the dog’

Phenomenon

Senser happened/able to direction

naka-kita ako na-kita ko

ng aso ang aso

participant Theme

Figure 5.5 Scale of volatility for mental processes in Tagalog

grammatically construe phenomena. In taking this step, we are opening up the possibility that transitivity systems might be generalized across process types in other than the familiar transitive and ergative terms (Martin 1996b) – with respect to the volatility of their process plus medium nuclei. This third possibility is outlined in relation to the other two in Figure 5.6 on page 270.

 J. R. Martin

Process ‘cook’ Actor ‘vegies’

transitive

intransitive/ transitive

Process ‘cook’ Actor ‘Xian’

ergative

Goal ‘vegies’

Process ‘cook’ Actor ‘vegies’ middle/ effective

Agent ‘Xian’

Medium ‘vegies’ Process ‘cook’

Process ‘sell’ Medium ‘Xian’ centrifugal/ centripetal

Goods ‘vegies’

nuclearity

Goods ‘vegies’

Medium ‘Xian’ Process ‘buy’

Figure 5.6 Transitive, ergative and nuclear transitivity

By way of distinguishing inner from outer roles around these nuclei, Tagalog draws on the ng/sa distinction noted above.16 This is easiest to see when clauses are nominalized or in recently completed aspect and so have no Theme:

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

(30) (magaling ang) pagka-intindi ng babae ng wika sa biyahe niya. clever theme understanding woman language trip her “The woman’s understanding of languages on her trip was clever.” (31) Ka-ra-rating ng babae sa probinsiya dahil sa Pasko. has just arrived woman province because of Christmas “The woman has just arrived in the province because of Christmas.” As example (31) illustrates, certain of these sa markers can be expanded to give more specific meanings. Using an ad hoc semantic classification of circumstances, these can be listed as follows: Matter Cause Benefactive Instrument Accompaniment Location

tungkol sa, ukol sa dahil sa para sa sa pamamagitan ng kasama ng bukod sa galing sa patungo sa

“about” “because of ” “on behalf of ” “with” “with” sa halip na “besides” maliban sa “from” sa gitna ng “to” sa harap ng

“in place of ” “except” “in the middle of ” “in front of ” . . . etc.

Actually the picture is not quite as neat as the ng/sa opposition in (30) and (31) would imply. Not all circumstances are in fact marked with sa: for example, kasama ng “with” listed under Accompaniment above. In addition, Manner (see example (32)) and Extent are marked with nang, distinguished orthographically from ng, but phonologically identical; and Role is marked with bilang “as”. What characterizes all circumstances is their inability to be marked simply with orthographic ng. (32)

Umuwi ka nang mabilis. go home theme+2sg circ fast Process: material Circumstance: manner “Go home quickly!”

.. Relational processes Turning to relational processes, attributive processes place a thematic Carrier in relation to an Attribute realized by a noun or adjective, without a pre-position (to classify as in example (33), or describe as in (34)). (33)

Titser ang babae. teacher theme woman Attribute Carrier “The woman is a teacher.”

 J. R. Martin

(34)

Matalino ang babae. clever theme woman Attribute Carrier “The woman is clever.”

Circumstantial attributive processes use one of the pre-positions noted above to mark the circumstantial relation (e.g. location, as in example (35) below). (35)

Nasa bahay ang babae. circ house theme woman Attribute: circumstantial Carrier “The woman is in the house.”

Identifying processes17 place two ang phrases in relation to one another, as in example (36) (at first blush, a clause type with two Themes). Perhaps these clauses can be interpreted as grammatically splitting the functions of thematic orientation and newsworthiness which are realized together on clause final ang phrases in mental and material processes (for contextualized examples see text (81) below). (36)

Ang pangulo ang babae. theme president theme woman Identifier Identified “The woman is the president.”

Basic18 existential clauses on the other hand are one the few clauses types in Tagalog lacking an ang phrase. The existential marker may (alternatively mayroon; for negative wala) precedes the Existent as in (37). (37)

May babae sa bahay. ex woman circ house Existent Circ: location “There is a woman in the house.”

Possession in Tagalog may be construed either circumstantially or existentially (see Ramos & Cena 1980, for discussion). General possession, including temporary possession, ownership and meronymy (part/whole relations) is realized in clauses with may marking the possession (or part) and with the possessor (or whole) as Theme. (38)

May lapis ang babae. ex pencil theme woman Attribute/ Possession Carrier/ Possessor “The woman has a pencil.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Ownership can be alternatively construed circumstantially, with the possessor as a kind of location (with pre-position sa) and the possession as Theme. (39)

Sa babae ang bahay. circ woman theme house Identifier/Possessor Identified/Possession “The house belongs to the woman.”

Temporary possession may be similarly realized, but with pre-position nasa in place of sa. (40)

Nasa babae ang lapis. circ woman theme pencil Identifier/Possessor Identified/Possession “The woman has the pencil.”

Martin (1996c) suggests that the existential clause type as well as the identifying one has been generalized across process types in Tagalog (may umalis “someone left”; umalis siya “she left”; siya ang umalis “she’s the one who left”), and that the motivation for this generalization has to do with arguability (modal responsibility). Note the contrast with English, which prefers to realize nonspecific participants as nominal groups (i.e. someone), rather than deploying an existential clause. The existential construal suits Tagalog, which otherwise would have the problem of a non-specific Theme (*umalis si someone “someone left”); for discussion see Martin (1983) and Section 5.4 below.

.. Text illustration Material and relational processes are exemplified in Text 5.1 below, a short biography of the economics professor T. S. Tullao, Jr. (Tullao 1990); for examples of mental processes see Texts 5.3 (clauses (1) and (3)) and 5.4 (clauses (11) and (16)). Text 5.1 outlines Tullao’s academic accomplishments and current activities. To clarify the presentation, linkers have been detached and glossed (e.g. orthographic nasabing in clause (2) reworked as nasabi -ng). Text 5.1 (1)

Nagtapos ng AB in Economics, summa cum laude completed his BA in Economics, summa cum laude Process Goods

 J. R. Martin

sa De La Salle University noong 1972, at De La Salle University in 1972 Circ: location Circ: location (past) “Dr Tereso S. Tullao Jr completed his BA in Economics, summa cum laude, at De La Salle University in 1972,” (2)

Si Dr Tereso S. Tullao Jr ay kasalukuyang Dr T.S. Tullao Jr inv presently Carrier professor at tagapangulo ng sa nasabi -ng unibersidad. Departmento ng Ekonomiks professor and head of the circ aforesaid dep university Department of Economics Attribute “he is presently professor and head of the Department of Economics at that university.”

(3)

Nagtapos din siya ng MA in Development Education completed also he an MA in Development Education Process Medium Goods noong 1974 sa Stanford University, California. in 1974 at Stanford University, California. Circ: location (past) Circumstance: location “He also completed an MA in Development Education at Stanford University in 1974.”

(4)

Magkasunod niya -ng tinapos ang MALD at ang PhD one after the other he dep completed an MALD and a PhD Circumstance Med Process Goods noong 1980 at 1982 sa Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University, Massachusetts. in 1980 and 1982 at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University, Massachusetts Circ: location (past) Circumstance: location “He completed an MALD and a PhD in succession at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University, Massachusetts.”

(5)

Napagkalooban siya ng Don Santiago Syjuco Professorial . . . got granted he the Don Santiago Syjuco Professorial . . . Process Direction19 Goods . . .

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Chair sa Ekonomiks at isa sa mga ginawaran Chair of Economics and one circ pl awarded . . . Goods . . . ng titulo -ng University Fellow ng DLSU. title dep University Fellow of DLSU . . . Goods . . . “He has had bestowed on him the Don Santiago Syjuco Professorial Chair of Economics and one of the honorary titles of University Fellow of DLSU.” (6)

Nakapagturo na rin siya sa iba’t iba -ng got to teach mature also he circ several dep Process Medium Circumstance: . . . bansa tulad sa Japan, USA, at Tsina. country including Japan, USA and China . . . location “He has also had the opportunity to teach in several countries, including Japan, the USA and China.”

(7)

Bukod sa pagtuturo, abala rin saya sa pagiging besides teaching busy also he circ being Circ: accompaniment Attribute Carrier Circ: . . . consultant ng Board of Investments at iba pa -ng consultant on Board of Investments and other more dep . . . location . . . mga institusyon at pang- ekonomya at pang- edukasyon. organisasyong pl institutions and for economic and for education organisations . . . location . . . “Besides teaching, he is also busy as a consultant on the Board of Investments and many other economic and educational institutions and organisations.”

(8)

Aktibo rin siya sa pagsusulat ng mga artikulo active also he circ composing circ pl articles Attribute Carrier Circ: location . . . sa ekonomiks na nalalathala sa loob at labas ng bansa. circ economics dep getting published inside and outside country . . . location . . . “He is also actively involved in composing many articles (getting) published inside and outside the country.”

 J. R. Martin

(9)

Kabilang sa iba pa niya -ng aklat among circ other more he dep books Attribute ang Three Essays on Trade and Development (DLSU 1987) at Understanding Economics in the Philippine Setting (Phoenix 1986). theme Three Essays . . . and Understanding Economics . . . Carrier “Among his many other books are Three Essays on Trade and Development (DLSU 1987) and Understanding Economics in the Philippine Setting (Phoenix 1986).”

This biographical sketch outlines Professor Tullao’s achievements from 1972 to 1987. It involves eight material processes – six finite (in bold italics below) and two nominalizations (underlined below): material processes (action highlighted) (1) Nagtapos “finished” . . . ng AB in Economics . . . (3) Nagtapos “finished” . . . din siya ng MA in Development Education . . . (4) . . . tinapos “finished” . . . ang MALD at ang PhD . . . (5) Napagkalooban “granted” . . . siya ng . . . Professorial Chair sa Ekonomiks . . . (6) Nakapagturo “taught” . . . na rin siya sa iba’t ibang bansa . . . (7) . . . pagtuturo “teaching” . . . (8) . . . pagsusulat “writing” . . . ng mga artikulo sa ekonomiks na nalalathala “published” . . . There are four relational attributive processes: relational processes (attribute in bold) (2) Si Dr Tereso S. Tullao Jr ay kasalukuyang professor . . . (7) . . . abala rin siya sa pagiging consultant . . . (8) Aktibo rin siya sa pagsusulat ng mga artikulo . . . (9) Kabilang sa iba pa niyang aklat ang Three Essays . . . The material processes are all arguably of the mag- type (including sulat “write” whose nominalization includes reduplication of the first syllable, a feature of the mag- class;20 although sulat is often used as an -um- verb, -um- verbs do not involve this reduplication). This pattern foregrounds Professor Tullao’s enterprise – earning degrees, having honours bestowed, teaching and publishing.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

tapos “end” (clauses (1), (3) & (4)) kaloob “gift” (clause (5))

mag-tapos t-in-apos mag-kaloob ipag-kaloob pag-kaloob-an turo “instruction” mag-turo (clauses (6) & (7)) i-turo turu-an lathala “publication” mag-lathala (clause (8)) i-lathala sulat “writing” mag-sulat (clause (8)) i-sulat

(finisher focus) (accomplishment focus) (giver focus) (gift focus) (receiver focus) (teacher focus) (content focus) (student focus) (publisher focus) (publication focus) (author focus) (composition focus)

At the same time, three of the finite realizations of these extroverted processes involve what Schachter & Otanes refer to as the ability/involuntary action prefix (ma-, maka-); for completed aspect they suggest translating this as “got” to make the point that something has indeed been accomplished: abilitative/involuntary action na-pagkalooban “got given” naka-pagturo “got to teach” na-lalathala “are getting published” This suggestion has not however been taken up in the free translation of clauses (5), (6) and (8) in Text 5.1 above (repeated in part below), where glossing the processes with “got” seems as inappropriate as glossing them “was able to” or “happened to” would be. (5) Napagkalooban siya ng Don Santiago Syjuco Professorial Chair . . . got granted he Don Santiago Syjuco Professorial Chair “He has had bestowed on him the Don Santiago Syjuco Professorial Chair ...” (6) Nakapagturo na rin siya sa iba’t iba -ng bansa, got to teach mature also he circ several dep country “He has also had the opportunity to teach in several countries, . . . ” (8) Aktibo rin siya sa pagsusulat ng mga artikulo na nalalathala . . . active also he circ writing circ pl article dep got published “He is also actively involved in composing many articles published . . . ” Taken alongside the two nominalizations which elide Tullao as actor (pagtuturo “teaching” in clause (7) and pagsusulat “writing” in clause (8)), what seems to be going on here is that the text is mitigating somewhat Tullao’s agency – supervention

 J. R. Martin

deflates instigation. Honours get granted, overseas teaching positions get offered and articles get published – with others, or fate, or perhaps divine providence in charge (for further discussion of this fashion of speaking in Tagalog, see Martin 1983). We might say then that Tullao is construed as fortunate, or blessed, as well as highly charged; and that the panegyric is somewhat more effacing than the English translation allows! The following text from an acclaimed novel by Lualhati Bautista (Bautista 1983: 4–5) features -um- class verbs; a mother (Lea) and her young son (Ojie) are arguing about drinks during a primary school beauty pageant. The relevant processes here are in bold in Text 5.2 below, and feature motion away from Mum and towards Ojie’s step-father Ding. Note in addition the transitive -um- process humingi ‘ask for’ in clause (4), where the goods (i.e. the money for the drink) are to be acquired by Ojie. Clearly at this stage of life Ojie is constructed materially as much less accomplished than Professor Tullao – and loses the argument with his mother in the process! Text 5.2 (Bautista 1983: 4–5) (1)

Sumilip uli sa lens ng camera si Lea. peeked again lens camera theme Lea Process Location Medium “Lea peeked again through the camera lens.”

(2)

“Ano?” tanong niya. what question her Token Value “ “What?” she asked.”

(3)

“Gusto ko ng soft drinks.” want I soft drinks Process Senser Phenomenon “I want a soft drink.”

(4)

“Do’n ka humingi ng pera sa tatay Ding mo. there th+2sg ask for money father Ding your Loc Medium Process Goods Direction “Ask your father Ding21 over there for some money.”

(5)

“Wala ako -ng dala dito.” ex-neg th+1sg dep load here Medium Process Location “I didn’t bring anything here.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

(6)

“Malayo siya, e!” far th+3sg on the contrary Attribute Carrier “But he’s a long way, eh!”

(7)

“Lapitan mo.” approach you Process Medium “Go over (to him).”

(-an construes the elided Theme (Ding) as Direction.) (8)

“Hindi ako makadaan!” neg theme+1sg can pass Medium Process “I can’t make it!”

(maka- is an ability prefix, also seen in clauses (10) and (12) below.) (9)

“Di mamaya ka na mag-soft drinks,” neg soon th+2sg fruition-soft drink Loc Medium Process “Listen, you’ll soon have your soft drink,”

(10)

“pag makakadaan ka na!” if can pass theme+2sg now Process Medium “if you start to make your way over now!”

(11)

“Dumadarag na lumayo si Ojie,” stamping in anger dep moved off theme Ojie Pro – – cess22 Medium “Stamping his feet in anger Ojie moved off,

(12)

at makadaan papunta kay Ding. and able to pass heading towards Ding Process Location “and headed over to Ding.”

 J. R. Martin

. theme .. The system of theme Thematic flexibility in the Tagalog clause was illustrated in examples (7) to (10) in Section 5.3 above. Cena (1979) in fact refers to Tagalog as an “equal opportunity employer” because of the flexibility with which it focuses on participants and circumstances as Theme. With elicited sentences, including fully lexicalized participants, unmarked Theme tends to conflate with unmarked New, at the end of the clause. This supposedly unmarked clause type, is illustrated in (41) below and is presumably the basis for Tagalog’s characterization as a VOS language in formalist language typology. Note however that in general, affecting participants tend to precede affected ones; and circumstances tend to follow participants – and these factors may influence word order. (41) H-in-iram ng tao ang pera sa bangko. borrowed man theme money circ bank “The man borrowed the money from the bank.” Note as well that pronouns, which are always personal, are clitic to the Process, which in discourse tends to move a “given” unmarked Theme forward in the clause away from unmarked New. Thus the contrasting word order in (42) and (43). (42) Na-kita ng Direktor si Brigitte. saw director theme Brigitte “The Director saw Brigitte.” (43) Na-kita siya ng Direktor. saw th+3sg director “The Director saw her.” Pronouns are further clitic to pre-enclitic interpersonal meanings coming first in clause – for example the negative marker hindi in (44). In discourse this tends to draw unmarked Themes further forward in the clause to bond with interpersonal Theme (which always comes first). (44) Hindi siya na-kita ng Direktor. neg th+3sg saw director “The Director didn’t see her.” As noted in Section 5.2.3 above, marked Theme is realized by what is referred to as “ay inversion”. Marked Themes involve ang phrases, circumstances and expanding dependent clauses23 as illustrated in (45) to (47) below.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

(45)

Ang pera ay h-in-iram ng tao sa bangko. theme money inv borrowed man circ bank Theme Rheme “The man borrowed the money from the bank.”

(46)

Sa bangko ay h-in-iram ng tao ang pera. circ bank inv borrowed man theme money Theme Rheme “The man borrowed the money from the bank.”

(47)

Nang mag-angat siya ng mukha ay wala si Raffy. when raise a little th+3sg face inv ex-neg theme Raffy Theme Rheme “When she raised her face a little, there was no Raffy.”

Tagalog also makes use of highly marked absolute Themes involving an extra “coreferential” ang phrase in first position followed by ay. (48) Ang bata ay malaki ang pagkagusto niya sa artista. th child inv big th love his circ actor “As for the child, his love for the actor was big.”

.. Text illustration A glimpse of the function of Tagalog’s theme system in discourse is presented in Text 5.324 below. The text is from the beginning of Lualhati Bautista’s Hinahanap Isang Magmamahal “Looking for Love”, a Valentine Romance (1989: 1–2). The heroine, Brigitte (an actor in situation comedy) is being introduced for the first time. Bautista is a renowned feminist novelist, who also writes subversive Mills & Boon style romances. Note in passing the use of English terms25 (e.g. utility boy, big shot, taping), a common feature of contemporary Manila discourse; this kind of Filipino is referred to by some commentators as “Taglish” or “Engalog” – featuring Tagalog grammar and occasional English lexis. Text 5.3 (Bautista 1989: 1–2) (1) Nakakaramdam na ng gutom si Brigitte is feeling already hunger theme Brigitte “Brigitte is already feeling hungry” (2) pero hindi siya makadaing. but neg theme+3sg able to complain “but she can’t complain.”

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(3) Nahihiya siya -ng magsalita kahit sa utility boy. is ashamed th+3sg dep speak even circ utility boy “She is too embarrassed to speak to even the utility boy.” (4) Ewan ba niya not know int she “I don’t know why (only she would know)” (5) pero sa tinagaltagal ng pagiging artista niya sa telebisyon, but circ enduring becoming actor she circ “but even though she’s been a TV actor for a long time now, nahihiya pa rin siya -ng magsabi is ashamed even theme+3sg dep say she is too embarrassed to discuss . . . ng problema niya sa mga kasamahan, problem her circ pl associates” . . . her problems with her associates” (6) kahit kasing-simple lang iyon ng isa -ng tasa -ng kape. though as simple only that+th one dep cup dep coffee “even if it was just something as simple as a cup of coffee.” (7) Nag-aalala siya is worrying theme+3sg “She is worrying” (8) na baka hindi siya pansinin. dep maybe neg theme+3sg pay attention to “that maybe she’d be ignored.” (9) Artista nga rin siya actor emph ako theme+3sg “She really was an actor” (10) pero hindi siya big shot. but neg th+3sg big shot “but she wasn’t a big shot.” (11) At dahil hindi siya big shot and because neg theme+3sg big shot “And because she wasn’t a big shot” (12) kaya dumarating siya nang maaga sa mga taping. so is coming th+3sg early circ pl taping “so she is coming early to the taping sessions.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

(13) Kahit sigurado siya although sure theme+3sg “Although she’s sure” (14) na mapapanis siya sa paghihintay, dep become stale th+3sg circ waiting “that she’ll get tired of waiting,” (15) ayaw pa rin niya -ng sugalan ang peligro na . . . not want still she dep gamble theme danger dep “she still doesn’t like running the risk that . . . maunahan siya sa pagdating be preceded th+3sg circ arrival . . . she’ll be caught out by the earlier arrival . . . ng mga mas importante -ng artista. pl more important dep actor . . . of the more important stars.” (16) Baka masulat pa siya sa diyaryo, maybe able to write still theme+3sg circ newspapers “She might get written up in the newspapers,” (17) mahirap na. difficult already “which would be hard.” The romance introduces its heroine in clause (1), at the end of the clause as Theme and New (arguably the only clause in the text with a clear VOS structure). Thereafter Brigitte is referred to pronominally (siya/niya), and selected as Theme (siya) on 13 occasions. Overwhelmingly then, the orientation of the text to its field in this part of the novel is Brigitte (following Fries (1981), the heroine constitutes the text’s method of development). As pronominal Theme, Brigitte is realized towards the beginning of the clause, following verbs or interpersonal pre-enclitics and followed by more newsworthy, less established information, for example sa diyaryo “in the newspapers” in clause (16). It’s only when clauses run out of news that siya comes last, as in (7), (9) and (13). Although it has been claimed that in Tagalog, Themes must be definite26 (e.g. Schachter 1976, 1977), Theme can be used to introduce participants27 – as for Brigitte in (1) above (and ang peligro in (15)). When common nouns are used to introduce participants in this way, this supposedly categorical association of Theme with definiteness is broken (see Martin 1993 for exemplification). This is hardly surprising given the association of fully lexicalized Themes with final position, and Buenaventura-Naylor’s (1975) association of final position with news. Text

 J. R. Martin

5.3 exemplifies the way in which the enclitic properties of pronouns disassociate participants from news once their identity has been established. A similar pattern of thematic development is found in Text 5.1 above, where Professor Tullao is construed as Theme in seven of the nine clauses. Note that in clause (1) of Text 5.1 an actor Theme is implied by the process affix nag-, but Tullao is in fact introduced as a marked Theme, via ay inversion, in the second clause. Thereafter he is realized through pronouns (siya/niya). This method of development is relaxed on two occasions to foreground Professor Tullao’s major academic accomplishments as thematic news in clause final position – his overseas degrees in clause (4) and his major books in clause (9). For ease of reference, Themes are in bold in the abridged version of Text 5.1 below. Themes in Text 5.1 (1) Nagtapos (Si Dr Tereso S. Tullao Jr) ng AB in Economics . . . (2) Si Dr Tereso S. Tullao Jr ay kasalukuyang professor . . . (3) Nagtapos din siya ng MA . . . (4) Magkasunod niyang tinapos ang MALD at ang PhD (5) Napagkalooban siya ng Don Santiago Syjuco Professorial Chair . . . (6) Nakapagturo na rin siya sa iba’t ibang bansa . . . (7) Bukod sa pagtuturo, abala rin siya sa pagiging consultant . . . (8) Aktibo rin siya sa pagsusulat ng mga artikulo . . . (9) Kabilang sa iba pa niyang aklat ang Three Essays on Trade . . .

. mood In linguistics, Tagalog’s Philippine-style focus system has celebrity status, and has drawn researchers to considerations of transitivity and theme. Mood has tended to be backgrounded (Martin 1990, 2004), although interpersonal meanings play a key role in organizing a Tagalog clause. Basic proposals and propositions in Tagalog were illustrated in Section 5.2.2 above28 (imperative, interrogative, declarative). To begin, we’ll develop proposals in more detail.

.. Imperative Tagalog imperatives generally deploy a non-finite form of the verb (affixed to focus on Theme but not marked for aspect). The person to whom the proposal is addressed and who is modally responsible for its undertaking is usually made explicit. First, second and third person proposals are all possible, as illustrated in

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

examples (49) to (52) below. The first and third person imperatives regularly include the optative enclitic particle sana. Martin (1990) discusses imperative options in more detail. ‘imperative: speaker’ (with “I” or exclusive “we”; oblative) (49) I-libing sana namin ang bangkay maya-maya. bury optative we-excl theme corpse soon “We hope to bury the corpse soon.” ‘imperative: addressee’ (with singular or plural “you”; jussive) (50) I-libing mo ang bangkay maya-maya. bury you-sg theme corpse soon “Bury the body soon.” ‘imperative: speaker/addressee’ (with inclusive “we”; hortative) (51) I-libing natin ang bangkay maya-maya. bury we-incl theme corpse soon “Let’s bury the body soon.” ‘imperative: third party’ (with “he”, “she”, “they”; optative) (52) I-libing sana nila ang bangkay maya-maya. bury optative they theme corpse soon “I hope they will bury the body soon (let them bury the body soon).”

.. Indicative Propositions, on the other hand, are realized through finite clauses, with verbs, where present, marked for focus and aspect. Rising intonation, with or without the enclitic interrogative marker ba, signals interrogative as opposed to informative mood. ‘indicative: informative’ (53) t-um-akbo si Lydia nang ma-bilis. ran theme Lydia fast “Lydia ran fast.” ‘indicative: interrogative’ (54) t-um-akbo ba si Lydia nang ma-bilis. ran int theme Lydia fast “Did Lydia run fast?”

 J. R. Martin

Informatives include both exclamative and declarative structures. For exclamatives, the attribute or circumstance of manner being intensified is realized in first position, most commonly with pre-position ang – as in example (56). ‘indicative: informative: declarative’ (55) Ma-ganda siya. beautiful theme+3sg “She’s beautiful.” ‘indicative: informative: exclamative: attribute’ (56) Ang ganda niya. theme beautiful s/he “How beautiful she is!” The most common tag involves the negative marker hindi and the interrogative marker ba; this tag, hindi ba, may either precede or follow the clause. The wh word ano (“what”) is also used as a tag, following the clause. ‘indicative: informative: declarative: tagged’ (57) Hindi ba, t-um-akbo siya nang ma-bilis? neg int ran theme+3sg fast “She ran fast, didn’t she?” ‘indicative: informative: declarative: tagged’ (58) Hindi siya t-um-akbo nang ma-bilis, ano? neg theme+3sg ran fast what “She didn’t fast, did she?” Content focused interrogatives realize their “wh” word in first position, optionally followed by ba: ‘indicative: interrogative: polar’ (rising tone) (59) T-um-akbo ba siya nang ma-bilis? ran int theme+3sg fast “Did she run fast?” ‘indicative: interrogative: wh’ (falling tone) (60) bakit ba siya t-um-akbo nang ma-bilis? why int th+3sg ran fast “Why did she run fast?” For “wh” questions about participants (sino “who”, ano “what”), Tagalog uses an identifying structure with the “wh” word as Token and the rest of the clause in effect nominalized as Value.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

‘indicative: interrogative: wh: participant’ (identifying) (61) Sino ang i-ni-libing ninyo? who theme buried-you+pl “Who did you bury? (Who is the one that you buried?)” ‘indicative: interrogative: wh: circumstance’ (non-identifying) (62) Nasaan ninyo i-ni-libing ang bangkay? where at you-pl buried theme corpse “Where did you bury the body?” Since Tagalog lexical items are so regularly deployed across word classes, “wh” verbs are possible in Tagalog – formed by verbalizing “wh” stems with aspect and focus markers: ‘indicative: interrogative: wh: process’ (63) In-ano mo ba? completed what you-sg int “What did you do?” (presuming something has happened) Basic mood systems in Tagalog are outlined in Figure 5.7; realizations have been exemplified above. For further discussion see Martin (1990).

Figure 5.7 Basic mood systems in Tagalog

 J. R. Martin

.. modality Turning from mood to modality, Tagalog deploys a range of modalizing preenclitics at the beginning of the clause. These are often related to the rest of the clause by the linking particle -ng/na, which in effect constructs modality as Head and scopes the content it is modalizing as dependent (see Martin 1990, 1995a, 2004, for discussion). For proposals, inclination,29 obligation and ability are all available, as shown in Table 5.6. Table 5.6 Modalizing pre-enclitics for proposals inclination obligation ability

positive gusto, nais, ibig kailangan, dapat puede, maaari, kaya, marunong

negative ayaw, ayoko

These modulations are treated as “pseudo-verbs” by Schachter & Otanes (for them, a sub-class of adjectival) and have the following properties: – – – – – –

they do not select for aspect; they do not select for voice; they link hypotactically to the verbal Predicate they modulate (na/-ng); the verbal Predicate they modulate does not select for aspect; like adjectives, they are intensified by hypotactic repetition (na/-ng); and like adjectives, they nominalize with ka-. . . -an (ka-rapat-an “rights”). (64) Dapat ka -ng um-uwi. should theme+2sg dep go home “You should go home.” (65) Hindi mo naman kaya -ng gawin iyon. neg you-sg contrast able dep do that “But you can’t do that.”

For propositions, realizations for probability, intensity, usuality and appearance are all available. Like modulations, these modalizations tend to be hypotactically linked to the rest of the clause. Except for appearance, they are graded from high values to low ones, as shown in Table 5.7. (66) Tiyak na mali ka. certain dep wrong theme-2sg “You are certainly wrong.” (67) Lalo siya -ng magiging kawawa. too much th+3sg dep becoming pitiful “She’ll become all the more pathetic.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Table 5.7 Modalizing pre-enclitics for propositions probability

intensity

usuality

high

tiyak na, sigurado-ng

(pa)lagi-ng

median

siguro

lalo-ng, sobra-ng, masyado-ng, labis na; talaga-ng, totoo-ng, tunay na, higit na repetition (with ng)

low

baka, marahil, sakali-ng, baka sakali-ng, possible-ng

(ka)muntik na, bahagyan-ng, halos

appearance (unscaled) para-ng, mukha-ng, tila, wari

karaniwan na, madalas paminsanminsan, (pam)bihira-ng

(68) Lagi tayo -ng na-ta-talo. always th+1pl-incl dep are losing “We always lose.” (69) Para ka -ng may problema. seems th+2sg dep ex problem “It looks like you’ve got a problem.”

.. polarity Negation in Tagalog is sensitive to mood and existentiality. Non-existential propositions are negated with the pre-enclitic hindi, realized in first position: ‘positive non-existential’ (70) D-um-ating siya. came theme+3sg “She came.” ‘negative non-existential’ (71) Hindi siya d-um-ating. neg theme+3sg came “She didn’t come.” For existential propositions, wala functions to negate the existence of the participant implied by the focus affixes on the verb (like modalities, wala is linked hypotactically to the rest of the clause): ‘positive existential’ (72) May d-um-ating. ex came “Someone came.”

 J. R. Martin

‘negative existential’ (73) Wala -ng d-um-ating. ex-neg dep came “No one came.” With proposals, the pre-enclitic huwag is used; it is hypotactically linked to the clause it negates when followed by enclitic particles. (74) Huwag sana kita30 -ng tawagin. neg optative I/you dep call “Let’s hope I won’t have to call you.” (75) Huwag mo ako -ng tawagin. neg you th+1sg dep call “Don’t call me.”

.. Enclitic particles As noted, Tagalog makes use of a range of enclitic particles, including noncircumstantial pronouns (as outlined in Table 5.8). These particles follow the experiential hub of the clause (its process, as in example (76)), unless it is preceded by pre-enclitic meanings (Martin 1990: 20–21) which themselves attract these particles (as in example (77)). Enclitic particles also realize a range of textual and interpersonal meanings, as outlined in Table 5.9. For further discussion of the meaning of these particles and their internal ordering see Martin (1981, 1990, 1993, 1997). (76) T-um-akbo siya nang ma-bilis. ran th+3sg fast ‘She ran fast.” (77) Hindi siya t-um-akbo nang ma-bilis. neg th+3sg ran fast “She didn’t run fast.” Table 5.8 Enclitic pronouns in Tagalog speaker alone speaker + others speaker + addressee addressee alone addressee + others other alone other + others

Theme31 ako kami tayo ka kayo siya sila

non-Theme ko namin natin mo ninyo niya nila

English gloss “I” “we” (inclusive) “we” (exclusive) “you” (singular) “you” (plural) “she”/ “he” “they”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Table 5.9 Enclitic particles in Tagalog textual na pa man din/rin lang/lamang muna naman kasi tuloy

mature immature concessive similarity reductive32 impermanence contrast reason result

interpersonal nga daw/raw ho po ba kaya pala sana yata

intensive reportative deference great deference interrogative speculation surprise optative uncertainty

.. Text illustration Dialogic aspects of interpersonal meaning are illustrated in Text 5.4 below, from one of the radio dramas studied in Bautista33 1979: Flora del Cielo (“Flowers of Heaven”). In this scene Lucila and her mother are exploring the possibility that an evil spirit34 is hanging around Lucila’s baby daughter Loreta. Text 5.4 (Bautista 1979) Lucila

(1) Loreta, anak . . . Loreta child “Loreta, my child ...” (2) Aba? what “What?” (3) Bakit nandito na sa duyan ang bata? why here mature cradle theme child “Why is the child here in the cradle now?” (4) Inay . . . Inay . . . mum . . . mum . . . “Mum . . . Mum . . . ” (5) Kayo ba ang naglagay ng bata sa duyan? th+2pl int th put child cradle “Were you the one who put the child in the cradle?”

Nanay

(6) Anong 35 sabi mo Lucila? theme-what say you-sg Lucila “What did you say, Lucila?” (7) Aba? what “What?”

 J. R. Martin

Lucila

(8) Kayo ba ang naglagay ng bata sa duyan at th+2pl int th put child circ cradle and nagpatulog sa kanya? made sleep s/he “Were you the one who put the child to sleep in the cradle?”

Nanay

(9) Aba hindi. denial neg “Why no.” (10) Papaano ko -ng patutulugin ‘yan how I dep make sleep that “How could I put it to sleep” (11) samantalang natatakot nga ako -ng humipo diyan. while am afraid intens th+I dep touch there “when I’m really afraid to touch her.”

Lucila (12) Kung ganon,36 if like that “If so,” (13) sinong naglagay sa kanya sa duyan? th-who put s/he cradle “who put her in the cradle?” (14) Nilapag ko lang siya kanina dito sa sahig sa may put I just th+3sg recently here floor ex banig woven mat “I only just put her here on the mat on the floor” (15) at naglaba ako sa labas ah. and did laundry th-I outside contrary “and did the laundry outside, eh.” Nanay (16) Ngayon, naniniwala ka na ba -ng may nagbantay now believe th+2sg mature int dep ex guarded sa batang ‘yan. child that “Now do you believe that someone is watching over that child?” Lucila (17) Nay? mum “Mum?” (18) Anong ibig ninyong sabihin? what want you-pl say “What are you trying to say?”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Nanay (19) May impakto -ng nagbabantay sa anak mo, Lucila. ex evil spirit dep is guarding child you-sg Lucila “There’s an evil spirit watching over your child, Lucila.” (musical bridge) crowd (20) Naku . . . maniwala kayo diyan. surprise believe th+2pl there “I’m surprised you believe that.” Nanay (21) Ay naku . . . talaga -ng totoo, mga kasama. alas surprise intens dep true pl friend “Alas, it’s really true, friends.” (22) Ako na mismo ang nakasaksi th+1sg dep myself able to witness “I myself was the one who got to witness it” (23) at ganon din si Dindo na anak ko. and like that also th Dindo dep child I “and so did my child Dindo.” crowd (24) Ganon ba? like that int “Is that so?” (25) Pero para -ng hindi naman mangyayari iyan. but seem dep neg contrast happen th-that “But it seems that it is not happening.” Nanay (26) Ay naku kung ayaw ninyong maniwala ... well surprise if inclin-neg you-pl believe “Well if you don’t want to believe it . . . ” (27) basta talaga -ng ganon ang nangyayari. exact intens dep like that theme happening “it’s just that that’s exactly what’s happening.” (28) May umuugoy talaga -ng duyan ng bata ex is rocking intens dep cradle child “Someone is really rocking the child’s cradle” (29) pero wala naman tao. but ex-neg contrast person “but no one is there.” This text is a proposition oriented one, concerned with who is in fact responsible for moving the baby into the cradle and rocking it. As such it includes a number of exchanges of information. For example, Nanay’s clauses (21) to (23) followed by the crowd’s clause (34) are a statement ^ acknowledgement; clauses (8) and (9) are an example of a polar question ^ response; and clauses (18) and (19) exemplify

 J. R. Martin

an exchange in the form of wh question ^ response. In this respect Text 5.4 contrasts with Text 5.2 above, where proposals about soft drinks are being negotiated, including two refusals by the son in response to commands from Mum (which are repeated here with a free translation closer to colloquial English; non-finite verbs are in bold): command ^ refusal L (4) Do’n ka humingi ng pera sa tatay Ding mo . . . “Ask your father for some money.” O (6) Malayo o siya, e! “Ah, C’mon, he’s too far away.” command ^ refusal L (7) Lapitan mo. “Go over to him.” O (8) Hinid ako makadaan! “I can’t make it!” Text 5.4 is very concerned with who is responsible for moving the baby and rocking the cradle. So alongside canonical clauses with single Themes, we find eight identifying clauses with two ang phrases either present or implied, and in addition three existential clauses with no topical Theme at all. “canonical” clauses (one topical Theme, underlined) (3) Bakit nandito na sa duyan ang bata? (10) Papaano kong patutulugin ‘yan (11) samantalang natatakot nga akong humipo diyan... (14) nilapag ko lang siya kanina dito sa sahig sa may banig (15) at naglaba ako sa labas ah ... (16) ngayon, naniniwala ka na bang may nagbantay sa batang ‘yan? (20) Naku ... maniwala kayo diyan (25) pero parang hindi naman mangyayari iyan ... (26) basta talagang ganon ang nangyayari “canonical” clauses (topical Theme elided, in parentheses) (12) Kung ganon, (iyan) (21) Ay Naku ... talagang totoo, mga kasama ... (iyan) (24) ganon ba ... (iyan) identifying clauses (two ang phrases, underlined) (6) Ano ‘ng sabi mo, Lucila ... (8) Kayo ba ang naglagay sa bata sa duyan ... ?

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

(13) sino ‘ng naglagay sa kanya sa duyan ... (18) Ano ‘ng ibig ninyong sabihin? (22) Ako na mismo ang nakasaki ... identifying clauses (ang phrase elision, in parentheses) (9) Aba hindi (ako) (ang naglagay sa bata ...) (23) ganon din si Dindo na anak ko (ang nakasaki) existential clauses (no topical Theme, existential particle underlined) (19) May impaktong nagbabantay sa anak mo, Lucila ... (28) may umuugoy talaga ng duyan ng bata (29) pero wala naman tao These selections provide some evidence for Martin’s (1996c) association of identification and existentiality in Tagalog with modal responsibility. Identifying clauses have the function of focusing exclusively on the identity of the participant undertaking the process nominalized as Value, making the Token modally responsible for the action; existential clauses on the other hand are much less definite about the identity of those responsible. My point here is that something that is negotiated in languages like English through the choice of Subject, where modal responsibility in invested, is handled differently in a language where the structural function Subject is very difficult to motivate on interpersonal grounds (Schachter 1976, 1977, 1995). This would account for the frequency with which an identifying English clause feels like a very awkward translation for Tagalog identifying structures – English Subject does the work for which identification is required in Tagalog. The other feature of this text that I would like to draw attention to is the foregrounding of interpersonal meaning at the front of the Tagalog clause in relation to topical Theme. To show this pattern, Text 5.4 is repeated in Table 5.10 below, with topical Themes underlined and interpersonal meanings in bold face (interpersonal meanings include vocatives, interjections, wh items, modality and various enclitic particles). Following on from the discussion of identification and existentiality above, I’ve also treated modally responsible Tokens and existential markers as interpersonal. If, following Halliday (1994), we treat the interpersonal meanings foregrounded at the front of the clause as interpersonal Theme, then what we get is a tendency towards a culminative patterning, with interpersonal Theme at the front of the clause and topical Theme following towards the end, especially if fully lexicalized (see Table 5.11). Once pronominalized, of course, topical Themes gravitate towards the front of the clause to bond with interpersonal Themes (e.g. clause (5) in Text 5.2 wala ako “negative existential I”, clauses (2), (10) and (11) in Text 5.3, hindi siya “negative she”, and clause (10) in Text 5.4 papaano ko “how I”).

 J. R. Martin

Table 5.10 Foregrounding of interpersonal meanings in relation to topical Themes in Text 5.4 (interpersonal meanings in bold, topical Themes underlined) Lucila

Nanay Lucila Nanay

Lucila

Nanay Lucila Nanay crowd Nanay

crowd Nanay

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29)

Loreta, anak ... Aba? Bakit nandito na sa duyan ang bata? Inay ... Inay ... Kayo ba ang naglagay ng bata sa duyan? Anong sabi mo, Lucila ... Aba? Kayo ba ang naglagay sa bata sa duyan at nagpatulog sa kanya? Aba hindi ... Papaano kong patutulugin ‘yan samantalang natatakot nga akong humipo diyan ... Kung ganon,37 sinong naglagay sa kanya sa duyan ... nilapag ko lang siya kanina dito sa sahig sa may banig at naglaba ako sa labas, ah ... ngayon, naniwala ka na bang may nagbantay sa batang ‘yan? Nay? Anong ibig ninyong sabihin? May impaktong nagbabantay sa anak mo, Lucila ... Naku ... maniwala kayo diyan Ay Naku ... talagang totoo, mga kasama ... Ako na mismo ang nakasaki ... at ganon din si Dindo na anak ko ... ganon ba ... pero parang hindi naman mangyayari iyan ... Ay naku kung ayaw ninyong maniwala ... basta talagang ganon ang nangyayari may umuugoy talaga ng duyan ng bata pero wala naman tao

Since Tagalog only pronominalizes conscious participants, this forms a natural dialogically charged grouping, since the pronouns refer to speaker, addressee and potential speaker/addressee roles.

. A note on logical meaning Space does not permit a thorough discussion of logical meaning in Tagalog. Note in passing however that Tagalog explicitly grammaticalizes hypotactic dependency through its linking particle (na/-ng). This operates across ranks38 as illustrated below with examples from Texts 5.3 and 5.4 above. For details see Martin (1995).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

Table 5.11 Interpersonal and topical Themes in Text 5.4 speaker Lucila

Nanay Lucila Nanay

Lucila

Nanay Lucila Nanay crowd Nanay

crowd Nanay

clause (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29)

interpersonal Theme Loreta, anak ... Aba? Bakit Inay ... Inay ... Kayo ba Ano Aba? Kayo ba Aba hindi ... Papaano ko sino

Nay? Ano May Naku Ay Naku ... talagang Ako na mismo parang hindi naman Ay naku kung ayaw ninyo basta talagang may wala naman

topical Theme

ang bata? ang naglagay ng bata sa duyan? (a)ng sabi mo ang naglagay ng/sa bata sa duyan ... ‘yan ako ng naglagay sa kanya sa duyan ... siya ako ka (a)ng ibig ninyong sabihin? kayo ang nakasaki ... si Dindo na anak ko ... iyan ... ang nangyayari

submodification 5.4, (21) talaga -ng totoo intensity dep true “really true” modification in the nominal group 5.3, (6) isa -ng tasa -ng kape one dep cup dep coffee “one cup of coffee” 5.4, (16) bata -ng ‘yan child dep that “that child” 5.4, (19) impakto -ng nagbabantay evil spirit dep is guarding “evil spirit that is watching over ...”

 J. R. Martin

projected reported speech and thought 5.4, (11) natatakot nga ako -ng humipo diyan am afraid intens th-I dep touch there “I’m really afraid to touch it” 5.4, (16) naniniwala ka na ba -ng may nagbantay believe th+2sg mat int dep ex guarded “do you believe that there’s someone watching” construing interpersonal Themes as Head of the clause 5.4, (18) ibig ninyo -ng sabihin want you-pl dep say “you want to say” 5.4, (26) ayaw ninyo -ng maniwala not want you-pl dep believe “you not want to believe” 5.4, (10) papaano ko -ng patutulugin how I dep make sleep “how could I put it to sleep”

. News from somewhere By way of closing, I’ll raise some issues opened up by the preceding sketch of Tagalog clause grammar. As far as experiential meaning is concerned, the Tagalog clause confirms the productivity of exploring case relations through the notion of process type, giving due acknowledgement to mental and relational processes. While the types of process proposed help clarify the use of focus affixes, it remains to be explored just how much predictability has been achieved. As the following examples from Text 5.3 indicate, there are many verbs which challenge the realization patterns suggested in Section 5.3. In clause (7) from Text 5.3, for example (repeated here as (78)), nag-a-alala is conjugated as a mag- action verb, where one might expect mental reaction (i.e. naka-ka-alala siya or na-a-alala-an niya). At the same time, unlike material processes, it projects the following clause (8) (repeated here as (79)), which in turn contains pansin-in – which we might predict to pattern as mental perception (i.e. siya ma-pansin); but then it would mean “notice” instead of “pay attention to”. Perhaps in each case behavioural facets of “worrying about” something and “taking notice of ” someone are being foregrounded too (for discussion of behavioural processes in relation to material and mental processing see Halliday 1994). (78) Nag-aalala siya is worrying th+3sg “She is worrying”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog 

(79) na baka hindi siya pansinin. dep maybe neg th+3sg pay attention to “that maybe she’d be ignored.” This raises the question of regularity39 in languages with rich verbal affixation related to participant role marking. The more irregular the affixation, the less reliable it will be as evidence for case grammars. Other forms of reasoning about process types, such as those suggested in Table 5.4 and Table 5.5 above, will have to be deployed. The analysis of process types offered here also raises the question of the extent to which the traditional transitive and ergative models of case relations can be generalized across languages. Is the notion of nuclearity (i.e. centrifugal and centripetal patterns around a process and medium nucleus) also relevant? And how far might it be generalized? Interpersonally, Tagalog raises the question of how modal responsibility is to be interpreted in a language without a clear-cut Subject function. Here it was suggested that identifying and existential structures might have a dialogic role to play in languages of this kind. In addition, the range of meanings realized through Tagalog’s enclitic particles, and their distribution in the clause, raises questions about prosodic forms of realization in grammar; also of interest in this regard is Tagalog’s tendency to set up interpersonal Themes as the Head of their clause, with their domain hypotactically dependent upon them. Textually, Tagalog exemplifies a language in which unmarked Theme conflates with unmarked news towards the end of the clause as far as fully lexicalized participants are concerned. Once introduced, these participants disassociate themselves from news as enclitic pronouns drawn towards the front of the clause, regularly bonding with pre-enclitic interpersonal Themes. In this sense Tagalog’s association of Theme with ‘definiteness’ is accommodated as a text unfolds. It seems to me that for progress to be made in understanding both interpersonal and textual meaning in Tagalog, systematic research programs involving text analysis need to be undertaken, so that questions of modal responsibility and information flow can be more fully explored. Through text based studies of this kind we can also work on the fashions of speaking in Tagalog discourse that challenge translation – the frequent use of abilitative/ involuntary action prefixes ma-/maka-, the frequent use of the phase oriented particles na (completedness) and pa (ongoingness) in relation to aspect; the frequent use of identifying clauses; the frequent use of existential clauses – and so on. I’d better stop, since the term “frequent” here has a rather ethnocentric ring. Why does English use so few of these meanings anyway, one might well ask! Only contrastive text analysis, across comparable registers, will tell.

 J. R. Martin

Notes . The figures used in this report are somewhat dated, based on Crystal (1987) and Gonzales (1993). . “Eastern” Austronesian (just 2 million speakers) includes the languages of Polynesia, Micronesia, Melanesia and many New Guinea languages (but not the “Papuan” ones); for more detail see Clark (1990). . See for example the Philippine Journal of Linguistics 21:1 Special Issue “Setting a Research Agenda for the Intellectualisation of Filipino”. . For example, Schachter and Otanes’ Predicate ^ Topic analysis of Tagalog clause structure was very innovative for its time, and ultimately quite influential (leading to an interest in so-called Subject prominent and Topic prominent languages; Schachter 1976, 1977). . For a complementary sketch, including an overview of Tagalog phonology and morphology, see Schachter (1990). . Tone patterns as suggested in Schachter & Otanes (1972), Schachter (1990). . For contextualized examples, see Section 5.4 below. . Many of these affixes (e.g. -um-, nag-) function as portmanteau realizations of both focus and aspect; for example -um- marks completed aspect and actor focus. . Demonstrative pronouns lack the pre-position, including the “oblique” case: e.g. ito, nito, dito “here”. . Along with the change in focus, the prefix naka- also introduces an abilitative/involuntary action meaning which will be passed over here. . The change in Topic also leads to a change in definiteness here; see Martin (1983) for discussion. . The term “deep” is used by Tagalog speakers to refer to words still used in some Tagalog speaking provinces but not current in Manila. . Note that ang isda is not linked to lumangoy sa tubig and so the latter cannot be read as a relative clause. Compare: na-kita ng babae bilh-in ng lalaki ang gulay “The woman saw the man buying the vegetables”; bilhin is clearly aspectless here, and the absence of a linker between na-kita ng babae and bilh-in ng lalaki ang gulay along with the position of ng lalaki following bilhin point clearly to an act. . The ng phrase in example (21) cannot itself be made Theme; the clause has a restricted focus potential. This clause type is arguably material (behavioural), with ginulat glossed as “startled”. . The following pairs, drawn to my attention by Arwin Vibar, may also be relevant: lum-ayas “run away”/ mag-layas “roam”; l-um-akad “walk”/ mag-lakad “tramp”; l-um-ibot “stroll”/ mag-libot “rove” – the mag- forms have a more open, extroverted sense of motion. . Note that with pronouns, only circumstantial roles in fact take a marker: for example siya, niya, sa kaniya (“he/him/to him”).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Tagalog  . Identifying structures are commonly used to project quotations (Ang tanong sa akin ng produser: “Relihiyosa ka ba?” – “The producer asked me, “Are you religious?””; see also clause (2) in Text 4.2; they are also used for wh interrogatives about participants (see Section 5.5). . For discussion of existential clauses with indefinite participants (e.g. may dumating “someone came”), see Martin (1996c). . Martin (1996c) introduces a Direction function for roles intermediate between participant and circumstance, including recipients of goods and information, and sources and destinations implicated by the process. . mag-sulat means to write continuously or repeatedly, and thus emphasises Tullao’s productivity. . The son’s step-father, as opposed to his real father, si tatay Raffy. . Dumadarag na lumayo is taken as a verbal group complex here. . The possibility of ay inversion with dependent clauses appears to confirm Fries’s (1981) treatment of such clauses as marked Themes in English. . The text has been divided into ranking clauses for ease of reference; in (3) and (5) nahihiyang magsalita and nahihiyang magsabi have been taken as verbal group complexes rather than clause complexes, since the two verbs share a common Theme (siya). . Note that the English words preserve English spelling; contrast assimilated borrowings such as telebisyon (television). Taglish involves both the use of specialized English terms in more formal registers and colloquial English words in relatively informal ones. . Related to this is the claim (e.g. Keenan & Comrie 1977) that Tagalog can only relativize into so-called Subject position (referred to as Theme here); for counter-examples to this overgeneralization see Cena (1979). . Professor Tullao’s MALD and PhD degrees were both introduced as ang phrases in clause (4) in Text 4.1 above, as were his major publications in clause (9). . For discussion of intonation in relation to mood choices see Schachter & Otanes (1972), Schachter (1990). . In general, intention in Tagalog is realized through these modal pre-enclitics, in combination or not with the optative enclitic sana; there does not appear to be a clearly defined class of desiderative mental processes alongside these resources. . Kita is used in place of the syntagm ko^ka; ko “I”, ka “theme+2sg”. . Note that Thematic pronouns involve two syllables, except for ka “you-sg”. In marked Theme position however, ikaw is used instead of ka; elsewhere, instead of the syntagm ko^ka, the realization kita is deployed. . Treated as textual in Martin (1981); alternatively it could be taken as the minimizing agnate to nga “intensive”; as far as the sequence of enclitics is concerned it is on the border of the “textual” and “interpersonal” enclitics. . I am much indebted to Tish Bautista for making available her soap opera scripts to me. . English readers finding this a rather fanciful tale might be well advised to tune in to Days of our Lives for some supernaturally oriented soap opera from Salem.

 J. R. Martin . Anong is a contracted realization of ano ang here; also sinong = sino ang in clause (13) in Text 4.4, and anong = ano ang in clause (18) in Text 4.4. . Textual meaning only; no interpersonal or topical Theme. . We should also note here that non-Theme Actor and Senser participants can be realized by oblique pronouns hypotactically linked to a following verb; thus as an alternative to na-kita niya ang titser “she saw the teacher” we can have kaniya-ng na-kita ang titser (Naylor 1980: 41). The alternatives are proportional to alternative realizations of “possession” in nominal groups – titser niya/kaniya-ng titser “her teacher” and are illustrative of the strong fractal resonance across group and clause ranks in Tagalog, which we have not had space to explore here. . This is further complicated by the use of verb stems across process types; sulat “write” for example can be conjugated as -um- or mag-, with a predictable shift in meaning.

References Bautista, L. (1983). Bata, Bata ... Pa-no Ka Ginawa? [Child, child... how’d you get made?] Manila: Carmelo & Bauermann. Bautista, L. (1989). Hinahanap Isang Magmamahal. [Hunting for someone to love.] Manila: Books for Pleasure Inc. & Adriana Publishing Co., Inc. (Valentine Romances). Bautista, M. L. S. (1979). Patterns of Speaking in Filipino Radio Dramas: A sociolinguistic analysis. Tokyo: Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies (Monograph Series 13). Bloomfield, L. (1917). Tagalog Texts with Grammatical Analysis. Part 1: Texts and translation. Part 2: Grammatical analysis. (University of Illinois Studies in Language and Literature 2 & 3.) Urbana: University of Illinois. Buenaventura-Naylor, P. (1975). “Topic, Focus, and Emphasis in the Tagalog Verbal Clause”. Oceanic Linguistics, 14, 12–79. Buenaventura-Naylor, P. (1980). “Linking, Relation Marking and Tagalog Syntax”. In P. Buenaventura-Naylor (Ed.), Austronesian Studies: Papers from the second eastern conference on Austronesian languages (pp. 33–50). Ann Arbor: Centre for South and Southeast Asian Studies (Michigan Papers on South and Southeast Asia). Buenaventura-Naylor, P. (1995). “Subject, Topic and Tagalog syntax”. In D. Bennett, T. Bynon, & G. B. Hewitt (Eds.), Subject, Voice and Ergativity (pp. 161–201). London: SOAS. Cena, R. (1979). “Tagalog Counterexamples to the Accessibility Hierarchy”. Studies in Philippine Linguistics, 3, 119–124. Clark, R. (1990). “Austronesian Languages.” Comrie (Ed., pp. 171–184). Comrie, B. (Ed.). (1990). The Major Languages of East and South-east Asia. London: Routledge (The Major Languages). Cruz, I. (1990). “A Nation Searching for a Language Finds a Language Searching for a Name. Philippine Journal of Linguistics, 21(1), 62–66. (Special Issue on the Silver Anniversary of the Language Study Centre of Philippine Normal College 1964–1989, Part 2.)

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Crystal, D. (1987). The Cambridge Encyclopedia of Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. De Guzman, V. (1978). Syntactic Derivation of Tagalog Verbs (=Oceanic Linguistics Special Publication 16). Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Fries, P. H. (1981). “On the Status of Theme in English: Arguments from discourse”. Forum Linguisticum, 6(1), 1–38. [Republished in J. S. Petöfi & E. Sözer (Eds.), 1983. Micro and Macro Connexity of Texts (=Papers in Textlinguistics 45) (pp. 116–152). Hamburg: Helmut Buske Verlag.] Gonzalez, A. (Ed.). (1993). “Linguistics”. Philippine Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences (pp. 178–432). Quezon City: Philippine Social Science Council. Keenan, E. & B. Comrie (1977). “Noun Phrase Accessibility and Universal Grammar”. Linguistic Inquiry, 8, 63–99. Martin, J. R. (1981). “conjunction and continuity in Tagalog”. In M. A. K. Halliday & J. R. Martin Readings in Systemic Linguistics (pp. 310–336). London: Batsford. Martin, J. R. (1983). “Participant Identification in English, Tagalog and Kâte”. Australian Journal of Linguistics, 3(1), 45–74. Martin, J. R. (1988). “Grammatical Conspiracies in Tagalog: Family, face and fate – with regard to Benjamin Lee Whorf ”. In J. D. Benson, M. J. Cummings, & W. S. Greaves Linguistics in a Systemic Perspective (=Current Issues in Linguistic Theory 39) (pp. 243– 300). Amsterdam: Benjamins. Martin, J. R. (1990). “Interpersonal Grammatization: Mood and modality in Tagalog”. Philippine Journal of Linguistics 21.1 (Special Issue on the Silver Anniversary of the Language Study Centre of Philippine Normal College 1964–1989, Part 2). 2–51. Martin, J. R. (1993). “Clitics.” Gonzalez (1993, pp. 237–240). Martin, J. R. (1995a). “Logical Meaning, Interdependency and the Linking Particle (-ng/na) in Tagalog”. Functions of Language, 2(2), 189–228. Martin, J. R. (1995b). “More than What the Message is About: English Theme”. In M. Ghadessy (Ed.), Thematic Development in English Texts (pp. 223–258). London: Pinter (Open Linguistics Series). Martin, J. R. (1996a). “Types of Structure: Deconstructing notions of constituency in clause and text”. In E. H. Hovy & D. R. Scott (Eds.), Computational and Conversational Discourse: Burning issues – an interdisciplinary account (=NATO Advanced Science Institute Series F – Computer and Systems Sciences, Vol. 151) (pp. 39–66). Heidelberg: Springer. Martin, J. R. (1996b). “Metalinguistic Diversity: The case from case”. In R. Hasan, D. Butt, & C. Cloran Functional Descriptions: Theory into practice (pp. 323–372). Amsterdam: Benjamins (Current Issues in Linguistic Theory). Martin, J. R. (1996c). “Transitivity in Tagalog: A functional interpretation of case”. In M. Berry, C. Butler, & R. P. Fawcett (Eds.), Meaning and Form: Systemic functional interpretations (pp. 229–296). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Martin, J. R. (1997). “Interpersonal Meaning: Some notes on realisation”. In V. Prakasam & K. V. Tirumalesh (Eds.), Issues in English Grammar, Vol. 1 (pp. 31–49). Hyderabad: Central Institute for English and Foreign Languages.

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Martin, J. R. (2004). “Prosodic ‘structure’: Grammar for negotiation”. Ilha do Desterro: A Journal of English Language, Literatures in English and Cultural Studies. (Special Issue on Studies in Systemic-functional Linguistics). Rafael, T. (1978). “Topic in Tagalog Revisited”. Studies in Philippine Linguistics, 2, 36–48. Rafael, V. L. (1988). Contracting Colonialism: translation and Christian conversion in Tagalog society under early Spanish Rule. Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press. Ramos, T. (1974). The Case System of Tagalog Verbs (=Pacific Linguistics Series B 27). Canberra: The Linguistic Circle of Canberra. Ramos, T. & R. Cena (1980). “Existential, Locative and Possessive in Tagalog”. Philippine Journal of Linguistics, 11(2), 15–26. Schachter, P. (1976). “The Subject in Philippine Languages: Topic, actor, actor-topic, or none of the above”. In C. Li (Ed.), Subject and Topic (pp. 491–518). New York: Academic Press. Schachter, P. (1977). “Reference-related and Role-related Properties of Subjects”. In P. Cole & J. M. Saddock (Eds.), Grammatical Relations (=Syntax and Semantics 8) (pp. 279–306). New York: Academic Press. Schachter, P. (1990). “Tagalog.” Comrie (Ed., pp. 208–230). Schachter, P. (1995). “The Subject in Tagalog: Still none of the above”. UCLA Occasional Papers in Linguistics 15. Los Angeles: UCLA Department of Linguistics. Schachter, P. & F. Otanes (1972). Tagalog Reference Grammar. Berkeley: University of California Press. Tullao, T. S. (1990). Diksyunaryo sa Ekonomiks (Ingles-Filipino). [Dictionary of Economics.] Quezon City: Phoenix.

Chapter 6

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald University of Sydney and Macquarie University / Chinese Central Television

. Introduction Chinese is the name given to a group of languages, now referred to as the Sinitic languages, which is roughly parallel to the Romance group in terms of the spread of its varieties over the known historical period. Unlike the latter, however, the whole Sinitic group is referred to by its speakers as one language, Chinese (zh¯ongguóhuà, more formally hànyˇu), and the varieties are referred to as dialects (f¯angyán). Taken as a single language, Chinese has well over one billion native speakers; if only Mandarin, the major dialect, is taken into account, it is still by far the world’s most populous language, spoken by an estimated 885 million native speakers, the nearest to it being Spanish and English (332 and 322 million respectively) (Ethnologue, February 1999). Mandarin, referred to in Chinese as Bˇeif¯anghuà (“northern speech”), is the basis for the standard language; it is spoken roughly north of the Yangtse river, and in the west and south-west regions of China. It is one of eight major regional dialects, each containing numerous dialectal variants, and given below with their main geographical centres: Wú (Shanghai); M˘ın (Fujian), commonly known in English as Hokkien, and usually split into M˘ınbˇei (Fuzhou), and M˘ınnán (Xiamen), the latter also the majority language in Taiwan; Yuè or Cantonese (Guangdong); Xi¯ang (Hunan); Gàn (Jiangxi); Jìn (Shanxi); and Kèji¯a or Hakka (south-eastern hinterland). Cantonese, Hokkien and Hakka are also widely spoken in overseas Chinese communities. The recorded history of China dates from about 1,000 BC, and records have been continuous since the early Han dynasty (c. 200 BC), with dates fixed by “reign period” – there never was any continuous system of dating. China has been ideologically united throughout the succeeding 2,200 years, and united politically for the greater part of this time. The major imperial dynasties in order were:

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(Qín-)Hàn (221BC-220AD); a period of disunity divided roughly into S¯anguó or Three Kingdoms (221–280), Jìn (265–420), and Nánbˇeicháo or Northern and Southern Dynasties (420–581); (Suí-)Táng (581–907); another period of disunity known as Wˇudài or Five Dynasties (907–960); Sòng (960–1279); Yuán (Mongol) (1271–1368); Míng (1368–1644); and Q¯ıng (Manchu) (1644–1911). The history of the Chinese language is commonly divided into three periods (Norman 1988: 23): Old Chinese (c. fifth century BC); Middle Chinese (c. seventh century AD) – the contemporary dialects mainly trace their origins back to the language of this period; and Modern Chinese (thirteenth century onwards). The written form which was developed in the Old Chinese period became a fixed written standard, known as wényán (“literary language”: Classical Chinese), which endured right through the imperial period, i.e. up until early last century. A vernacular written standard for unofficial writings such as fiction developed in Mandarin, the language of the imperial capitals from the thirteenth century onwards. This variety, known as báihuà (“plain speech”: Colloquial Chinese), forms the basis of the modern written standard, adopted for official use soon after the fall of the last dynasty, and used not only in mainland China and Taiwan but throughout the Chinese diaspora, even where Mandarin is not in majority spoken use. The writing system evolved during the second millennium BC, and probably reached full systemic status (i.e. such that in principle everything in the language could be written down) by about 1,000 BC. The system is a charactery, and is consistently logographic: there is no “ideographic” element in it, whereby the symbols might be seen as relating directly to ideas rather than to linguistic units (cf. Sampson 1992). (Of course the forms of the characters were in origin pictorial; but so were the forms of the Egyptian hieroglyphs from which the Roman alphabet derives.) The character is tied to a unit of wording, overwhelmingly a single morpheme. The morpheme, in turn, tends to be realized by one phonological syllable (hence the “monosyllabic” tag often applied to Chinese), though exceptions to this have existed since the earliest times (Kennedy 1964). The syllabary is closed and the total number of distinct syllables is rather small. This varies according to dialect: Mandarin, at the lower end of the spectrum, has just over 1150; without distinctions of tone, this falls to almost exactly 400. For comparison, Cantonese (towards the upper end) has about 1700, or 630 ignoring tone distinctions. The size of the syllabary covaries with the length of the wording (the number of syllables/ morphemes) in a given passage of text: Y. R. Chao (1968) reported a consistent relationship such that the smaller the total syllabary the greater the number of morphemes in the text (this is obviously predictable in terms of information theory). Table 6.1 above gives the total syllabary of Mandarin. Because of the regular mapping between morpheme and syllable, further reinforced for the literate by the mapping of this stratal complex on to the character,

1 bu ba bo bai bei bao

I 2 1 pu 2 pa 3 po 4 pai 5 pei i 6 pao 7 pou 8 ban pan 9 ben pen 10 bang pang 11 beng peng 12 bi pi 13 14 bie pie 15 biao piao ii 16 17 bian pian 18 bin pin 19 20 bing ping 21 22 23 24 iii 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 iv 32 33 34

5

ding du

ming

7 la le lai lei lao lou lan

8

tuo

nuo

luo

lang leng li lia tie nie lie tiao niao liao niu liu tian nian lian nin lin niang liang ting ning ling tu nu lu

na (ne) nai nei tao nao tou nou tan nan nen tang nang teng neng ti ni

ta te tai

II 6

dong tong nong long nü lü nüe lüe (lüan)

dui tui duan tuan nuam luan dun tun nun lun

duo

die diao diu dian

da de dai fei dei dao fou dou fan dan fen (den) fang dang feng deng di

4 fu fa fo

mie miao miu mian min

3 mu ma mo mai mei mao mou man men mang meng mi

Table 6.1 The Mandarin syllabary

gu gua guo guai gui guan gun guang gong

ga ge gai gei gao gou gan gen gang geng

9

ku kua kuo kuai kui kuan kun kuang kong

kao kou kan ken kang keng

ka ke kai

III 10

hu hua huo huai hui huan hun huang hong

ha he hai hei hao hou han hen hang heng

11

ju jue juan jun jiong

ji jia jie jiao jiu jian jin jiang jing

12

qu que quan qun qiong

qi qia qie qiao qiu qian gin qiang qing

IV 13

xu xue xuan xun xiong

xi xia xie xiao xiu xian xin xiang xing

14

zhu zhua zhuo zhuai zhui zhuan zhun zhuang zhong

15 zhi zha zhe zhai zhei zhao zhou zhan zhen zhang zheng

chu chua chuo chuai chui chuan chun chuang chong

chao chou chan chen chang cheng

V 16 chi cha che chai

shu shua shuo shuai shui shuan shun shuang

17 shi sha she shai shei shao shou shan shen shang sheng

19 zi za ze zai zei zao zou zan zen zang zeng

cuo

cu

cao cou can cen cang ceng

VI 20 ci ca ce cai

suo

su

sao sou san sen sang seng

21 si sa se sai

rong zong cong song

rui zui cui sui ruan zuan cuan suan run zun cun sun

ru zu (rua) ruo zuo

rao rou ran ren rang reng

re

18 ri

VII 22 er a e ai (ei) ao ou an en ang (eng) yi ya ye yao you yan yin yang ying wu wa wo wai wei wan wen wang weng yu yue yuan yun yong 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

speakers of Chinese have a strong sense of both these units – referred to by the single term zì “character / syllable” (Chao 1946); and a correspondingly weak sense of units above or below them. On the lexicogrammatical stratum, the word is notoriously elusive (Lu 1960), and there is considerable inconsistency in the way people combine morphemes when they use the official spelling system, Hànyuˇ P¯ıny¯ın. On the phonological stratum, the phoneme is equally inaccessible; indeed while in the southeastern dialects one can just about make sense of a phonemic analysis, in Mandarin it makes no sense at all: the syllable consists of an Onset and a Rhyme, and can be simply and accurately specified as a network of prosodies (Halliday 1992). An interesting consequence of this is that it is impossible for Chinese to borrow at the phonemic level; the smallest unit to which a foreign word can be assimilated is the syllable. The lack of consonant clusters in Mandarin also means that foreign words must be reanalysed as a series of mainly consonant-vowel syllables: thus Marx is mˇa-kè-s¯ı, Churchill qi¯u-jí-ˇer; the Russian linguist Aleksandrovskaya takes a total of 10 syllables: a¯ -liè-kè-s¯an-dé-luò-f¯u-s¯ı-ji¯a-yá! Chinese, generally speaking, is not a “borrowing” language: its preferred import strategy is calquing – words coming from outside being reconstrued by Chinese morphemes. Thus the early twentieth century borrowing dé-lü` -f¯eng “telephone” was soon replaced by the calqued form diànhuà “electric (originally “lightning”) speech”; dé-m¯o-kè-l¯a-x¯ı “democracy” was replaced by mínzhˇu “people rule”, and so on. This makes modern technical discourse much more accessible to the non-specialist than it is in a language such as English, where the learned terms are constructed out of borrowed Latin or Greek elements that are not in everyday use; in Chinese, while some morphemes are taken over from the classical language, most technical terms are constructed out of elements that are familiar from the discourse of commonsense. Bronze and Iron Age technology evolved in China at about the same time as it did in India and in the Eastern Mediterranean, and the associated forms of technical language parallel those that evolved in ancient Greece and Rome (Needham 1958). The discourse of modern science dates from the beginning of the twentieth century, with translations from western (especially English and German) scientific writings, sometimes via the intermediary of Japanese. By the end of the century, Chinese had become one of the world’s leading languages in the production of original scientific texts; and the language of science is as highly evolved as any, with the same degree and kinds of grammatical metaphor as are found in scientific English (Halliday 1993). These metaphoric patterns have not yet penetrated the daily language as much as they have done in English and French, but they are already beginning to do so. While Chinese has never been a borrowing language, it has always been a lending one: three major languages on or near its borders, namely Korean, Japanese, and Vietnamese, borrowed extensively from Chinese (the local names of all three

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

countries employ Chinese morphemes), especially around the time of the Tang dynasty (sixth to tenth centuries), including their earliest writing systems. Both Japanese and Korean, which are unrelated to and structurally very different from Chinese, went on to develop syllabic forms of writing which are used in conjunction with Chinese characters (although in North Korea the syllabary alone is used). Vietnamese, while also unrelated to Chinese, is structurally very similar, and continued to use only characters (inventing many new ones of its own along the way) until the French colonial authorities replaced these with its present (Roman) alphabetic script. Linguistics began in China about 2,000 years ago, with lexicology (an early thesaurus) and epigraphy (a major study of the origins of the Chinese script). Out of the latter grew a powerful phonological tradition (Halliday 1981), with the syllable analysed in terms of Onset (niˇu, later sh¯engmˇu) and Rhyme (yùn, later yùnmˇu), the Rhyme subsequently being extended to include lexical tone (sh¯engdiào). These two scholarly traditions – dictionaries and encyclopedias on the one hand, phonological and (under later Indian influence) phonetic studies on the other – have been part of Chinese intellectual life throughout the country’s history. What was absent all this time was any study of grammar. If this seems strange at first, we should recall how grammatical theory began in India and in Greece. What attracted attention in Sanskrit and in Greek was the rich morphological variation: the grammarians’ first achievement was to chart the paradigms, and it was in trying to explain choices of case, person, number and so on that they went on to explore the syntax. Chinese, in contrast, has virtually no trace of morphology, apart from a few relic derivational processes marked by change of initial consonant or tone; so although it had obviously an elaborate system of syntax, syntactic questions were never brought to attention, apart from a broad classification of word classes into shízì “full (content) words” and x¯uzì “empty (function) words”. When European scholars turned their attention to Chinese in the sixteenth century, they were at first intrigued by the characters, which they welcomed as potentially universal (i.e. language-independent) symbols. With very few exceptions, they misunderstood the characters’ stratal significance, interpreting them as ideographic rather than logographic (Halliday 1984). In the nineteenth century numerous amateur linguists in western diplomatic, military or missionary circles described Chinese grammar in terms of their familiar model of school Latin, finding ablative cases and pluperfect subjunctive moods wherever they chose to look for them; these descriptions seem quaint today, but they were often based on a rather thorough knowledge of the language, typically one modern spoken dialect and the classical written language. But it was in the context of typological studies that Chinese grammar drew the attention of linguists, because the language was taken as prototypical of the “isolating” language type (contrasting with “agglutinative” and “inflexional”). At the most naive level, the lack of morphology

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

was interpreted as a sign of linguistic impoverishment, and the language was even said to have “no grammar” (Humboldt 1836/1997; Whitney 1875); but by the time of linguists such as Sapir (1921) and Jespersen (1922), this analytic structure had come to be recognized as a comparable alternative resource for the expression of linguistic meaning. In the latter half of the twentieth century, Chinese became one of the most widely described languages, with detailed studies of its grammar both by western linguists (including Chinese linguists working in the west) (e.g. Chao 1968; Li & Thompson 1981), and by Chinese linguists working in China (e.g. Zhu 1982; Liu et al. 1983). While the first few Chinese grammars written in Chinese were based on descriptive categories from the western grammatical tradition (Ma 1898; Li 1924), the leading grammarians from the 1940s onwards (e.g. Wang 1944; Lu 1944; Gao 1948) were original thinkers who set out to describe Chinese in its own terms. Today there are numerous linguistics journals in China, including those in Hong Kong and Taiwan, covering all aspects of the Chinese language – phonology, lexicogrammar, semantics, discourse analysis – and exploring a range of theoretical perspectives. These include systemic functional theory, for which there is a flourishing national association (Zh¯ongguó xìtˇong g¯ongnéng yˇufˇa xiéhuì) which holds a conference every second year (whose proceedings have been published in the collections Hu, Zhu & Zhang 1989; Zhu 1993; Ren 1995; Hu & Fang 1997; Jiang et al. 1998), alternating with a related series of conferences on text and discourse. Around the time of the foundation of the People’s Republic in 1949, in the context of the drive to attain universal literacy, there was some pressure to replace the charactery with a (roman) alphabetic script; this was rejected in favour of retaining, but simplifying, the characters (DeFrancis 1972). At the same time, an official roman orthographic system, hànyˇu p¯ıny¯ın (“Chinese spelling”), was adopted for use in various institutional and scholarly contexts (e.g. street signs, newspapers, dictionaries) and in two important domains of education: initial literacy and the teaching of the standard language. Retaining the charactery has had a significant effect on the way the different registers of the language continue to evolve, since it distinguishes among homophones, which in p¯ıny¯ın are all written alike. This makes it possible to carry over some of the more concise forms of wording from the earlier written language, and so allows a considerable distance to remain between spoken and written registers. This is nothing like as great as it was before the official adoption of báihuà as a written standard in the 1920s, when virtually all written discourse was in the wényán classical language; but it is such that a modern scientific text, for example, may differ from the spoken form at least as much as and probably more than a comparable English text differs from spoken English. It would be difficult to read such a text if it was written alphabetically, in hànyˇu p¯ıny¯ın – especially if, as is commonly the case, the tone marks were omitted.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese

. Preliminaries: The clause and its constituents Since this account of Chinese is being written in English, and since systemic functional studies of English are freely available, English will be cited from time to time as a point of reference. It should be stressed, however, that Chinese has been extensively described in its own terms; in systemic functional descriptions the “protocol” version is that written in the language itself, so for Chinese, that with Chinese technical terms (Hu, Zhu & Zhang 1989).1 We hope, therefore, that the present account is not biassed towards English, in the way that so much linguistic work has been in recent decades. Since it is the case that the basic organizing category of systemic functional theory, the “system”, is more abstract than those of other grammars, languages will always look more alike when described in systemic terms, because the description is freed from the constraints of structural variation. It seems important to have a way of looking at the potential of a language without being tied to the form in which that potential is realized. A metafunction / rank matrix for Chinese grammar, given below in Table 6.2, looks very similar to that of English (Matthiessen 1995; Halliday & Matthiessen 1999). We will treat only the clause systems in detail in this account, although other systems may be briefly referred to when appropriate (the relevant sections of this chapter are added in brackets after each system). There is a difference to note between the categories of rank and metafunction in this matrix. Both the concept of “metafunction” itself and the particular subtypes of metafunction – ideational (experiential, logical), interpersonal, and textual – are theoretical categories; they are part of the general linguistic framework of the description. But while “rank” is also a theoretical category, the particular “ranks” or units such as clause, phrase / group, word, morpheme and their complexes are treated as descriptive terms, which may vary from one language to another. Although English and Chinese share the number of units on the rank scale, and largely also (something that is relevant to how they are named) the way the construction of meaning is shared out among them, there are two notable differences. First, in Chinese the lowest rank with implications for clause grammar is the group rather than the word. The internal structure of the word is strictly derivational (compounds, word class formatives) rather than inflectional. Grammatical affixes (usually known as particles) can be analysed as part of the structure of either the group (subordination, aspect) or the clause (aspect, mood). This means that the conception of rank scale is a little different from English in that some word classes operate directly in the structure of the clause. Secondly, there is a degree of functional indeterminacy between certain ranks, for example in the relatively free combining potential of verbal elements, which has sometimes led to Chinese being described in terms of “serial verb constructions” (Li & Thompson 1981: Chapter



information (3.2)

cohesion

adverbial

information unit

deixis (2.2)

mood (4.1)

modality (4.2) comment

time (5.1.5) manner (5.1.5)

numeration (2.2) classification (2.2)

aspect (5.2.1.1) phase (5.2.2)

group: verbal

nominal

minor transitivity (5.1.5)

transitivity: nuclear (5.1.1-4) & circumstantial (5.1.5) aspect (5.2.1.2)

phrase

mood (4.1) modality (4.2) polarity (4.3) assessment (4.4)

logical

logico-semantic relations & taxis

theme (3.1) voice (5.1.3.1)

experiential

clause

interpersonal [complexes at each rank]

textual

rank

metafunction

Table 6.2 A metafunction-rank matrix for Chinese

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald


21; cf. Section 6.5.2.2 below); this often makes it difficult to distinguish between verbal group and clause, and between verbal group complex and clause complex.

.. Clause The functional demesne of the clause in Chinese is very similar to that in English. It can be defined as the locus of the mapping of the experiential, interpersonal and textual strands of meaning on to one another; the principal systems involved are those of transitivity, mood, and theme, which will be discussed in following sections. Structurally, the ordering of elements within the clause in Chinese is very similar to that in English. Textually, Theme comes at the beginning of the clause, preceding Rheme; New normally at the end of the information unit (which in the default case corresponds to the clause), following the Given. The variability of the position of New is comparable to that in English, because of its similar phonological realization by tonic prominence; however the variability of what functions as Theme is greater than in English, given that the majority of clause elements can be thematized simply by being put in initial position. Interpersonally, the Predicator can normally be identified with the Process, as in English, and functions together with the Subject; the Subject is not, however, involved in marking mood distinctions and is often “omitted” (from an English point of view); there is no equivalent of a Finite. Mood distinctions are marked by intonation, by final particles, by tags, and for one subtype of interrogative mood by interaction between Predicator and Polarity. Experientially, the basic order of elements is quite similar to English, e.g. in a material clause (unmarked sequence) Actor ^ Process (^ Goal); except that most circumstances precede the Process, rather than following it as in English. The default ordering of elements in the clause can be expressed as a syntagm (sequence of classes) as follows: conj. 1^ nom. gp.^ conj. 2^ adv. gp.^ phrase^ vbl. gp.^ nom. gp.^ clausal particle^ conj. 3

Example (1) illustrates a clause having just the groups and phrases (for abbreviations, see Tables 6.3 to 6.7 below): (1) ng1 ag phr vg ng2 T¯a gˇankuài de cóng ch¯outì li ch¯ou-chu le y¯ı dá zhˇı. s/he quick man from drawer in pull pv:exit asp:pf one pile paper “He quickly took out a pile of paper from the drawer.” Example (2) shows a clause with clausal particle in final position:



 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(2) ng1 vg. . . . . . vg ng2 cp Nˇı huì gˇei wˇo jiè-lai nèi bˇen sh¯u ma? you can for me borrow pv:come that meas book mod “Can you borrow that book for me?” Paratactic and hypotactic conjunctions occupy three positions in the clause, indicated by the numbering in the syntagm given above: paratactic (a): 1 paratactic (b): 2 hypotactic (a) 1 or 2 hypotactic (b) 3 These are illustrated in example (3). (3) ng 1 hcon(a) ag phr vg ng 2 hcon(b) nˇı rúguˇo mˇashàng gˇei wˇo xi¯ulˇı zìxíngch¯e dehua you if straightaway for me repair bicycle if (“say”) “If you mend my bike for me straightaway, . . . pcon(a) ng1 pcon (b) ag phr vg ng2 nà wˇo jiù y¯ıdìng péi nˇı mˇai d¯ongxi in that case I then definitely with you buy things . . . I’ll definitely go shopping with you.” This example also illustrates the unmarked ordering of the clauses in a hypotactic clause nexus, which is β ^ α. As noted above, a number of verbal constructions may be strung together with no marking of the relationships between them, in what has been called a serial verb construction: (4) ng1 ag vg1 ng2 phr vg2 vg3 T¯a j¯ıngcháng dài gˇou dào g¯ongyuán qù sànbù. s/he often take dog to park go stroll “She often takes the dog to the park for a stroll.”

.. Group and phrase classes We may recognize three basic group classes in Chinese (cf. Halliday 1956): verbal (vg), nominal (ng), and adverbial (ag); and one class of phrase (phr).

... Verbal group The verbal group expands both before and after the Head, with the pre-Head position being reserved largely for interpersonal meanings of polarity and modality (marked by verbal particles and auxiliaries or modal adverbs respectively), and the


post-Head position for experiential meanings of aspect and phase (marked by verbal particles and postverbs respectively). We list the main possible syntagms below. Premodification (polarity, modality): (5) a. vb qù go “goes” c. aux ^ vb xiˇang qù want go “wants to go” e. vpart ^ phr ^ vb bù g¯en nˇı qù neg with you go “won’t go with you”

b. vpart ^ vb bù qù neg go “doesn’t go” d. vpart âux ^ vb bù xiˇang qù neg want go “doesn’t want to go” f. vpart ^ vadv ^ vb bù y¯ıdìng qù neg definitely go “won’t necessarily go”

Postmodification (aspect, phase): (6) a. vb^vpart zuò le do asp:pf “have done” c. vb ^ pv ^ vpart zuò-hˇao le do complete asp:pf “have finished doing” e. vb^ vpart^ [[clause]] zuò de [[hˇen kuài]] do ext very quick “do very quickly”

b. vb^pv zuò-hˇao do complete “finish doing” d. vb ^ vpart ^ pv zuò-bù-hˇao do neg:pot complete “can’t finish doing”

... Nominal group The nominal group consists of a Head with optional modifying elements; the Head typically comes last. Modification for deixis, numeration and classification precedes the Head. The only element which follows the Head is the class of postnouns, indicating relative position or facet. Modification may be by nominal elements, by verbal elements (most commonly by the adjectival subclass of verb), or by embedded clauses, commonly joined to the Head by the subordinating particle de. We list some of the most common structural types below.



 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(7) a. cn sh¯u book “book(s)” c. cn ^ cn g¯ongjù sh¯u tool book “reference book” e. num ^ meas ^ cn s¯an bˇen sh¯u three meas book “three books”

b. vb ^ cn hˇao sh¯u good book “good book(s)” d. [[clause ^ npart]]^ cn [[wˇo yào de]] sh¯u I want sub book “the book I want” f. dem ^ meas ^ cn nèi bˇen sh¯u that meas book “that book”

These basic possibilities may be combined in two possible orders: (7) g. [[clause ^ npart]]^ dem ^ num ^ meas ^ [[wˇo yào de]] nèi s¯an bˇen I want sub that three meas “Those three books I wanted” h. dem ^ num ^ meas ^ [[clause ^ npart]]^ nèi s¯an bˇen [[wˇo yào de]] that three meas I want sub “Those three books I wanted”

cn sh¯u book cn sh¯u book

We noted above that the one element which follows the Head is a postnoun (“localizer”) indicating relative position or facet. This structure may appear in one of two forms: noun ^ postnoun; or noun ^ subordinating particle ^ postnoun. (8) a. cn ^ postn zhu¯ozi shang table on “on the table”

b. cn ^ npart ^ postn zhu¯ozi de shàngmian table sub topside “on / above the table”

It could be argued that in such instances it is actually the postnoun which functions as Head; the function of the noun would then be that of Thing, here separated from Head as in analogous constructions in English (Halliday 1994: 194–196).

... Adverbial group The adverbial group is of two kinds: (i) those with adverb as Head, with or without a Modifier of intensity; (ii) those with adjectival verb as Head, possibly reduplicated, and followed by the adverbial particle de. Those of the first type may be either clausal or verbal adjuncts. The clausal ones function as circumstances in the clause; they typically express location in time

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

or place, such as “now” or “there”, or interpersonal or textual meanings such as “luckily”, “otherwise”. They usually follow the Subject but can be thematized; the textual ones favour thematic position. The verbal ones immediately precede the verb (or coverb); they cannot be thematized, and they are rarely if ever modified. They express temporal, modal, or other features of the process, e.g. “already”, “also”, “mutually”. Those of the second type are verbal adjuncts; they follow the Subject and cannot be thematized. They are adverbial forms of the adjectival verb and express features of manner, such as “quickly” or “carefully”. (9) a. vadv ^ vb ^ cadv hˇen jiˇu yˇıqián very long-time previously “a long time ago” c. vadv (t¯a) yˇıj¯ıng (zˇou le) s/he already leave asp:perf “(she’s) already (left)” e. vb ^ vb ^ apart hˇaoh¯aor de good good man “properly”

b. cadv ^ cadv zuóti¯an wˇanshang yesterday evening “yesterday evening” d. vadv (t¯a) yˇe (qù) s/he also go “(he’s going) too” f. vb ^ vb ^ apart gˇan kuài (de) hurry quick (man) “hurriedly”

... Phrase The unique class of phrase in Chinese is the coverbal phrase; this is formed by the combination of a coverb and a nominal group, and as a whole is translationally and largely functionally equivalent to a prepositional phrase in English (cf Li & Thompson 1974), with coverb as minor Process. The term “coverb” rather than “preposition” is used here since coverbs are a class of verb (“prepositive verb” in Halliday 1956), e.g. gˇei “give; to, for”, yòng “use; with”; and almost all can function also as (major) Process in the clause. Coverbal phrases are used to indicate circumstantial meanings such as place, accompaniment, means; and certain kinds of participants such as Receiver in a verbal clause (see Section 6.5.1.2.1 below). When the phrase indicates location or direction in space, the nominal group is often modified by a postnoun of position; the coverb indicates the general location or direction, and the postnoun the relative position or facet.

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(10)

a. cv ^ ng gˇei wˇo to/ for I “to me, for me” c. cv ^ ng zài w¯u li at room in “in the room”

b. cv ^ ng g¯en liˇang ge péngyˇou with two meas friend “with two friends” d. cv ^ ng dào ti¯an shang to sky on “(up) into the sky”

.. Word classes Words do not vary morphologically, nor is there any indication of word class in their phonological shape. (There are a few suffixes specific to nouns.) Word classes are however clearly defined by syntactic function. The basic system of word classes in Chinese is given below, with each class briefly glossed and exemplified. Some common alternative terms for the classes are given in parentheses, and abbreviations used in this chapter are indicated in small capitals. Relevant sections are given in parentheses. Table 6.3 Verbal word classes verb [vb] Head [of verbal group] (Event); freely modified coverb [cv] Minor Process in circumstantial phrase; not modified voice coverb: dispositive [disp]; not modified voice coverb: passive [pass]; not modified auxiliary verb [aux] Modal premodifier [in verbal group] postverb [pv] Phasal postmodifier [in verbal group]

Table 6.4 Nominal word classes common noun [cn] measure noun [mn] proper noun [pn] pronoun [pron] determiner [det] numeral [num] measurer [meas] postnoun [postn]

Head [of nominal group] (Thing); freely modified Head [of nominal group] (Measure); +det, num, postn only Person or place name; not modified Personal or demonstrative; not modified Deictic premodifier [in nominal group] Numerative premodifier [in nominal group] Individuative/ collective/ partitive/ quantitative premodifier [in n.gp.] Position (Facet) postmodifier [in nominal group]

Table 6.5 Adverb classes clausal adverb [cadv] verbal adverb [vadv] degree adverb [dadv]

Head [of adverbial group]; freely modified Temporal or scopal; not modified Intensity pre-/post-modifier [in verbal / adverbial group]

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

Table 6.6 Conjunction classes paratactic conjunction [pcon] a. Clause-initial: continuative or extending b. Following Subject: enhancing hypotactic conjunction [hcon] a. Initial / following Subject: enhancing b. Clause-final: temporal or conditional

Table 6.7 Particles clausal particle [cpart] aspectual [asp]: perfective [pf]; imperfective [impf] modal [mod]: (mood) interrogative [int]; exclamative [excl]; imperative [imp]; (assessment) molliative [mol]; suggestive [sug]; insistent [ins] verbal particle [vpart] aspectual [asp]: perfective [pf]; imperfective [impf] polar, negative [neg]: unmarked; perfective [pf]; potential [pot] polar, positive [pos]: potential [pot] nominal particle [npart] number, plural [pl] subordinating [sub] adverbial particle [apart] manner [man]

Table 6.8 Clause functions and group/ phrase classes in Chinese 1. textual Theme textual conjunction, adverbial group (cohesive)

Rheme interpersonal adverbial group (comment)

topical group, phrase, rankshifted clause

[remainder of clause]

2. interpersonal Subject nominal group

Adjunct adverbial group, phrase

Polarity verbal particle

Modality auxiliary, verbal adverb

Predicator verbal group

Complement Mood nominal clausal group particle

3. experiential Participant nominal group

Circumstance Process adverbial verbal group, phrase group

Participant(s) Circumstance Aspect nominal nominal clausal group, phrase group, phrase particle

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

.. Functional structures of the clause Table 6.8 above shows the typical relationship between classes and functions in the structure of the Chinese clause, in the textual, interpersonal and experiential metafunctions (systems of theme, mood and transitivity: Sections 6.3, 6.4 and 6.5 below).

. Textual metafunction .. The system of theme It has been broadly agreed in recent years that the Chinese clause contains (or at least may contain) some element that sets the scene, generally referred to in English either as “topic” or as “theme” (Chinese zhˇutí, zhˇuwèi respectively),2 with the implication (not always stated) that this represents a feature of the clause as a whole. In other words, just as if there is a “subject”, this has always implied that the rest of the clause is a “predicate”, so too if there is a “topic” then the rest of the clause must be “comment”. There have been different views on the nature of this element and on its relation to the element “subject” (on “subject”, see Section 6.4.1 below), the two sometimes seen as coexisting (Li & Thompson 1976, 1981; Tsao 1979), sometimes as alternate manifestations of the same thing (Chao 1968; see also discussion of Chao’s definition of “subject” in Halliday 1988). Here we take the “multifunctional view of Chinese clause structure” put forward in Fang et al. (1995: 241–243) which sees the clause as being organized simultaneously in textual, interpersonal and experiential terms, i.e. as message, exchange, and representation (Halliday 1967/8, 1978, 1994). In these terms, the Chinese clause organized as a message divides rather clearly into Theme + Rheme. Theme is realized by initial position in the clause: (11) Theme Rheme Wˇo hái dˇei qù bˇaihuòdàlóu. I still must go department store “I still have to go to the department store.” More accurately, the Theme is the first group or phrase in the clause together with any conjunction or adverb that precedes it. This means that the Theme will always include an experiential element, the topical Theme, though unlike in English this will not always be functioning within the transitivity structure (see on “absolute” Theme below). It may also include a textual Theme (12) and/or interpersonal Theme (13):

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(12)

Theme Rheme textual topical Nà míngti¯an qù jiè ma! well tomorrow go borrow mod “Well go and borrow it tomorrow then!”

(13) Theme Rheme interpersonal topical Kˇenéng dàji¯a hái jìde zhè jiàn shì. possibly everyone still remember this meas matter “Possibly everyone still remembers this.” The Theme may be marked off from the Rheme by a pause (commonly represented in writing by a comma) and/or by a modal particle, a, ne, ba, or ma (see Section 6.4.4 below); here such a particle functions to highlight the Theme as something that is to be elaborated. Such a Theme is then commonly resumed by a pronoun: (14) Theme Rheme Zhèxi¯e rén ne, (t¯amen) d¯ou f¯eicháng luòhòu. these person mod they all extremely backward “These people, (they)’re all very backward.” Not uncommonly, the Theme is “absolute”, standing outside the experiential structure of the clause altogether (see Section 6.5.1.2 below): (15) Theme

Rheme Carrier Process/Attribute Wˇo tóu téng. I head ache “I have a headache (as for me, the head aches).”

Such clauses are often analysed as having two layers of thematic structure (Tsao 1979; Zhang 1997), an outer layer with wˇo ‘I’ as Theme and the rest as Rheme and an additional inner layer with tóu ‘head’ as Theme. Such an analysis can be argued for in relation to the structure of following clauses: (16) Theme

Rheme Theme Rheme Theme Rheme Theme Rheme Theme Rheme Zhèi zhˇong shù yèzi dà hu¯ar xiˇao zh¯ıtiáo xì zhˇugàn c¯u this type tree leaf big flower small branch slender trunk thick “This kind of tree has big leaves, small flowers, slender branches and a thick trunk.”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

It could be argued that the nominal groups yèzi, hu¯ar etc. also have some thematic status, following the principle that “thematic prominence” is highest at the beginning of the clause and then diminishes gradually (Halliday 1979). Such an example thus raises the question of how we recognize where Theme ends and Rheme begins. Leaving aside textual or interpersonal Themes, one principle would be to say that the Rheme starts immediately after the first possible topical Theme, the first group or phrase having some function in transitivity. Another possible analysis is to recognize differing degrees of thematicity and include within the Theme all experiential elements up to the Process, or the minor Process represented by the coverb of a coverbal phrase. By this principle everything up to the Process would have some degree of thematic potential, with the initial group having the greatest. Unlike English, there is no direct link between the theme structure and the mood structure, since the realization of different mood choices does not involve changes in the word order of the clause. It is therefore less easy to define marked and unmarked Themes in Chinese, particularly for elements whose default position is near the beginning of the clause. Broadly speaking, however, we can say that the most usual Theme is a nominal group which is also functioning as Subject; secondly, an adverbial group or phrase functioning as Adjunct; thirdly, a nominal group functioning as Complement; fourthly, and very seldom, a verbal group functioning as Predicator. Fang et al. (1995) give examples of all of these and also point out that the possibilities are more or less constrained according to the different process types in the clause (see Section 6.5 below). We give a range of examples below: (17) a.

Theme Rheme Subject T¯a zuóti¯an wˇanshang zuò-wán le s/he yesterday evening do pv: finish asp “He finished doing this yesterday evening.” b. Theme Rheme Adjunct Zuóti¯an wˇanshang t¯a zuò-wán le yesterday evening s/he do pv: finish asp “Yesterday evening he finished doing this.” c. Theme Rheme Complement Zhè jiàn shì t¯a zuóti¯an wˇanshang this meas matter s/he yesterday evening “This, he finished doing yesterday evening.”

zhè jiàn shì. this meas matter

zhè jiàn shì. this meas matter

zuò-wán le. do pv: finish asp

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

d. Theme Rheme Predicator Ch¯u le y¯ı ge gu¯angzhù’r. emit asp one meas light column “There came out a beam of light.” There is a close link between the clause function Theme and the text-level concept of presumed information (Halliday & Hasan 1976; Martin 1992). In other words, the Theme of a clause in Chinese is normally presumed or given information and refers to something already stated in the preceding discourse or retrievable from the discourse context; grammatically speaking, Theme is normally conflated with Given, and Rheme with New (see Section 6.3.2 below). The opening two clauses of one of our sample texts (Section 6.3.3, Text 2) demonstrate this pattern, with the participant guˇı “ghosts” introduced in the Rheme of the first clause and then restated as the Theme of the second clause: (18) Theme Rheme Theme Rheme Dìshang méi yˇou guˇı, guˇı zài nˇar? earth on neg exist ghost ghost be at where “If there are no ghosts on earth, where are the ghosts?” Another significant feature of presumed information in Chinese is that it may be marked by “zero reference” (Hu 1994), which functions not just as a structural linker between clauses, as in English, but as a referential device within the text (see Section 6.4.1.1 below): thus Themes in Chinese are commonly presumed by ellipsis. In the example below, the topic of reference, “the people you see in dreams”, is first referred to by a personal pronoun and then ellipsed: (19)

Theme Rheme Theme Rheme T¯amen bù shì guˇı, shì shénme? they neg be ghost be what “If they are not ghosts, what are they?”

In (20), on the other hand, while the Subject is ellipsed, the Theme is a coverbal phrase: (20)

Theme Rheme Cóng d¯ou’r litou a, bˇa shˇoudiàntˇong t¯ao-chu-lai. from pocket inside mod disp hand-torch pull pv:exit pv:come “From his pocket, he pulls out a torch.”

Thematic bracketing, i.e. setting off a particular portion of the clause as thematic by structural means, is achieved by nominalizing the verbal group, or some combination of elements that includes the verbal group, and adding the subordinating

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

particle de at the end. This is then joined to the remaining element(s) with the relational verb shì ‘be’, resulting in an identifying (equative) clause (see Section 6.5 below). The following example shows a previous judgement zhè d¯ou bù kˇepà “none of this (seeing people you know in dreams) is frightening” then being thematized in order to bring out the contrast (seeing people you’ve never met): (21) a.

b.

Theme Rheme Zhè d¯ou bù kˇepà. this all neg frightening “None of this is frightening.” Theme Rheme Kˇepà de shì hái yˇou nˇı méi jiàn guo de rén frightening sub be still exist you neg see asp sub person “The frightening thing is there are also people you’ve never seen.”

Such clauses are commonly reversible. Compare the two following examples: (22) a.

Theme Rheme [[Zuì xˇıhuan hu¯a qián de]] shì t¯a mèimei. most like spend money sub be s/he younger sister “The one who most likes spending money is her sister.” b. Theme Rheme T¯a mèimei shì [[zuì xˇıhuan hu¯a qián de.]] s/he younger sister be most like spend money sub “Her sister is the one who most likes spending money.”

In the case of (22b), however, there is likely to be an additional feature of marked information structure, with tonic prominence on mèimei “sister” (see following section).

.. The system of information Many years ago Y. R. Chao pointed out (Chao 1948) the tendency to put new information at the end of the clause in Mandarin, contrasting t¯a zhù zài Bˇeipíng “He lives in Peking” with t¯a zài Bˇeipíng zhù “He lives in Peking”. In fact, the structures which allow this variation in sequence without the use of thematic bracketing with shì...de (see Section 6.3.1 above) are relatively few – zài... “at/in (a location)” is one of a sub-class of phrases which are moveable in this way; but the general principle is entirely valid: Chinese does favour a Given ^ New pattern, and one can recognize an information unit, realized by a tone group, which (as in English) is typically coextensive with a ranking clause. The (culmination of the) New is realized by a word in which the accented syllable(s) is or are prominent. Since most accented sylla-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

bles in Mandarin have lexical tone (one or other of four tonal contours, this being part of the Rhyme of the syllable), such prominence is produced by maximal pitch movement on the relevant tone (maximal stretching of the tonal register), more or less to the point which is attained in citation form. This tonic prominence, giving a point of focus to the New information, will typically occur at the end. At the end of what? Typically, as just remarked, at the end of a ranking clause; but (again as in English) there are marked variants in which the tone group is not coextensive with a clause, so we need to recognize an “information unit” as a distinct category: a unit of the textual metafunction that combines with the clause as message to organize the flow of the discourse. This may correspond fairly closely to that in English, except that it is not clear whether there is a systematic distinction, corresponding to that in English, between pretonic and tonic segments; it may be that the Chinese information unit is equivalent to just one of these elements, and therefore, on average, would be somewhat shorter than the information unit in English (cf. Tao 1996, on his equivalent “intonation unit”). What is clear is that while the unmarked place for the focus of information is at the end of the information unit (i.e on the last lexical item, which means that, unlike in English, it will always fall on the Head of a final nominal group – see Section 6.2.3.1 above), this can be overridden by a marked information structure in which the focus falls earlier in the unit, as with example (22b) above. As in English, this pattern imports a slight prosody of contrast, or counter-expectancy; this is because in this case the New is being mapped on to the Theme. There is, however, one very common situation where the New is mapped not on to the Theme but on to a non-final part of the Rheme – the Predicator, hence the verbal group. If there is only one nominal element, of course, the verbal group will already be in final position, so the focus will be unmarked. If however there are two nominal elements, the verb will not be final; so if it is made to carry the focus there will be an unwanted implication of contrastiveness: thus in (23a) there is one nominal group, the verb is final and the focus is unmarked: (23) a.

Wˇo xi¯an zˇou le. I first leave asp “I’ll be off then.”

In (23b) on the other hand there are two nominal groups, the verb is non-final and hence the focus is marked: (23) b.

Wˇo bù xˇıhuan miàntiáo. I neg like noodle “I don’t like noodles.”

English solves the analogous problem by constructing “phrasal verbs”: compare (marked focus) We need to pursue all these allegations, versus (unmarked focus)

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

We need to follow all these allegations up; in other words, it splits the verbal group into two parts, with the effect that the second part can come at the end. Chinese solves it in a different way by introducing a special “dispositive” coverb bˇa (or its more formal equivalent ji¯ang) and displacing the full verb to clause-final position: for example (24)

T¯a bˇa d¯ongchéng x¯ıchéng d¯ou pˇao-biàn le. He disp east city west city all run pv:all over asp “He ran right through the east and west of the city.”

This has unmarked information focus, thus making the verb the culmination of the New without any additional features of contrast (the use of this coverb, however, is constrained by process type – see Section 6.5 below). Thus on a “micro” scale, the flow of discourse in Chinese follows a periodic movement from speaker-oriented Theme (“this is where I’m starting from”) to listener-oriented New (“this is what you are to attend to”), very much in the same way as it does in English. To what extent the parallelism would extend to higher units of organization up to a whole text is beyond our present scope; Fang et al. (1995) have shown the significance of Theme-Rheme structure and of the thematic principle in the construction of Chinese discourse. The texts in Section 6.3.3 provide an illustration of these textual patterns. Figure 6.1 presents a system network for theme and information. affirmative a contrastive ne highlighted

singled out ma resumed

* neutral TOPICAL THEME

unmarked [Subject] simple bracketed

INTERPERSONAL THEME

TEXTUAL THEME

*

not resumed

clausefunctional absolute

Adjunct marked

+interpersonal Theme

— +textual Theme

—

Figure 6.1 A system network for theme and information in Chinese

Complement Predicator

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

.. Text illustrating theme and information N. B. Theme indicated by underlining; New indicated by bold; ellipsed Theme indicated by a horizontal line. Text 1: Waiting for a rabbit (1) Cóngqián, yˇou ge rén zài tián li zhòng dì. formerly exist meas person at field in plant land “Once upon a time there was a man working in the fields.” pˇao-lai le y¯ı zh¯ı tùzi, (2) H¯urán suddenly run come asp: pf one meas rabbit “Suddenly there ran out a rabbit,” (3) y¯ıtóu zhuàng zai tián bi¯an’r de dà shù shang. headlong bump at field side sub big tree on “(and) dashed itself headlong against a big tree at the side of the field.” (4) Tùzi zhuàng-sˇı le, rabbit bump die asp: pf “The rabbit having killed itself,” (5) nèi ge rén f¯eicháng g¯aoxìng that meas person extremely happy “the man was very happy:” (6) t¯a bá tùzi shí-qilai s/he disp rabbit pick up “he picked up the rabbit,” (7) ___ dài - hui - ji¯a -qu. bring return home go “(and) took (it) back home.” (8) Cóng zhè ti¯an yˇıhòu, t¯a jiù fàng-xia chútou from this day afterwards s/he then put down hoe “From that day on, he put down his hoe,” (9) ___ zuò zai dà shù xia dˇeng zhe sit at big tree under wait asp: impf “and sat under the big tree waiting,” (10) ___ x¯ıwàng hope “hoping”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(11) zài yˇou tùzi pˇao-lai again exist rabbit run come “that another rabbit would run out” (12) ___ zhuàng-sˇı zai dà shù shang. bump die at big tree on “and dash itself to death on the tree.” (13) T¯a dˇeng le hˇen cháng shíji¯an, s/he wait asp:pf very long time “He waited for a long time,” lái, (14) tùzi méiyˇou zài rabbit neg: pf again come “but another rabbit didn’t come,” (15) t¯a de tiándì kˇe hu¯angwú le. s/he sub field quite overgrown asp: pf “and his fields became quite overgrown.” Text 2: Dreams (1) Dìshang méi yˇou guˇı, earth-on neg exist ghost “If on the earth there are no ghosts,” zài nˇa’r? (2) guˇı ghost be-at where “where are the ghosts?” (3) Guˇı d¯ou zài rénx¯ın lˇıtou. ghost all be-at person- mind inside “The ghosts are in people’s minds.” (4) Nˇı bù xìn? you neg believe “You don’t believe it?” (5) Jiù kàn mèng. then look dream “Then take a look at dreams.” (6) Mèng li nàme du¯o rén d¯ou shì nˇa’r lái de ? dream in so many person all are where come sub “In dreams, where do all those so many people come from?” (7) ___ Yˇou n¦H bà, exist you father “There’s your father,”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(8) ___ yˇou n¦H m¯a, exist you mother “there’s your mother,” (9) ___ yˇou n¦Hde lˇaosh¿H hé tóngxué, exist your teacher and classmate “there’s your teacher and classmates,” (10) ___ yˇou hé n¦H zài y¡Hq¦H sh¯enghuó guo de rén, exist with you at together live asp:pf su person “there are people who have lived with you,” (11) ___ yˇe yˇou n¦H zh¦H t¿Hngshu¯o guo m¢Hngzi de rén, also exist you only hear asp:pf name sub person “there are also people you’ve only heard the names of,” (12) zhe d¯ou bù kˇepà. this all neg frightening “none of this is frightening.” (13) Kˇepà de shì hái yˇou n¦H méi jiàn guo, méi frightening sub be still exist you neg see asp:pf neg “The frightening thing is there are also people you’ve never seen, never heard,” t¿Hng guo, méi ch¿H guo, méi wén guo, hear asp:pf neg eat asp:pf neg smell asp:pf “never eaten, never smelt,” mèng d¯ou méi mèng guo de rén, dream even neg dream asp:pfsub person “never even dreamt of in dreams,” (14) zhè y¯ı huí bù qˇıng zì-lái le. this one time neg invite self come asp:pf “just at this time they come without being asked.”

. Interpersonal metafunction In both interpersonal and experiential metafunctions we need to recognize clause systems of two types, (i) basic and (ii) elective. With the former, there is no neutral term; every major clause selects a marked feature from each. With the latter, there is one option that is unmarked; one may choose not to select any of the marked features. The interpersonal clause systems in Chinese include the basic systems of mood and polarity, and the elective systems of modality and assessment.

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

.. The system of mood All major clauses select for mood, the primary selection being either indicative or imperative. Typically, indicative clauses realize propositions (statements and questions), and imperatives realize one type of proposal (commands); as in English, proposals of the other type, offers, may be expressed in any grammatical mood. There is also comparable cross-coupling between speech function and mood type. Minor clauses are those which do not select for mood. The elements of clause structure that are primarily involved in construing these interpersonal systems are the Subject and the Predicator; they are supported by a number of verbal adverbs and particles. The Predicator is realized by a verbal group, which typically consists of (i) a verb as Event, with or without (ii) preceding auxiliary verb realizing modality; (iii) following postverb, realizing phase; (iv) preceding or following verbal particle(s), realizing polarity and aspect. The Subject is realized by a nominal group, which typically consists of either (i) a common noun as Thing, with or without preceding modifiers, or (ii) a pronoun or proper noun. A Predicator is present in all major clauses except for the positive declarative form of some relational clause types (see Section 6.5.1.1 below). A Subject may be present, or it may be presumed (by ellipsis; see next section). There is no difference between indicative and imperative clauses in the relative frequency with which a personal pronoun Subject will be present or presumed. Positive polarity is unmarked. Negative polarity is realized by a negative particle occurring initially in the verbal group: indicative bù (neutral or imperfective aspect) or méi (perfective aspect), imperative bié (for aspect see Section 6.5.2.1 below). The exception is completive phase, in which the aspectually neutral bù occurs between verb and postverb; here there is also a marked positive form with positive realized by de in the same position (see Section 6.4.1.2.4, and also Section 6.5.2.2.2 below). Modality is realized either (modulation) by an auxiliary in the verbal group, or (modalization) by a verbal adverb functioning as Adjunct (see Section 6.4.2). Assessment is realized by a clausal particle, a, ba, ma, ne; ma also occurs in the realization of one type of polar interrogative (see Section 6.4.1.2.2; for assessment see Section 6.4.4 below). A generalized Mood-tag may be added finally in declarative and imperative; this takes the form of a verb, declarative shì “be” or du¡H “be right”, imperative hˇao “be o.k.” or x¢Hng “go” (cf. French ça va?), in one of the two polar interrogative forms, either sh¡H bù shì or sh¡H ma, &c. Examples of interpersonal clause structures are given (25) and (26).


(25) A

B

A

B

(1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

Subj Pred Compl. Mood Nín rènshi wˇo ma? you recognize I mod:int “Do you recognize me?” Predicator Bù rènshi. neg recognize “No.”

interrog.: biassed

decl.: negative

Subj Adj Predicator Compl. Nín kˇe bù rènshi wˇo? you vadv neg recognize I “You really don’t recognize me?”

interrog,: biassed: intonation/negative

Subj. Pred. Compl. Mood Nà shéi rènshi nín ne? well who recognize you mod:dem “Well who does know you then?”

interrog,: elemental: demanding

(26) A

(8)

Subj. Predicator Compl. Nín bù rènshi wˇo, you neg recognize I “If you don’t know me.” (9) Pred. Compl. dào wˇomen chˇangzi, go-to we factory “go to our works;” (12) Adjunct Subj. Pred. Compl. quánchˇang-l˘ı wˇo shì diˇanxíng whole works-in I be model “I was a model for the whole works”

declar. [dependent]/ neg.

imper.: jussive

decl.

... Indicative: Declarative The indicative mood comprises the two subtypes declarative and interrogative. The declarative is the unmarked term in the mood system, in that it combines most freely with other systems of the clause. The typical ordering of elements, common to all moods, is (Subject ^) (Adjunct ^) Predicator (^ Complement); in declarative,



 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

if the Subject is a personal pronoun then (provided it is not marked out as New) it is typically “tone-reduced” – reduced in intensity and in range of pitch. There has been much discussion over the question of whether or not there is a category of “Subject” in Chinese (cf. Lu et al. 1958), with confusion arising partly because it has not been clearly distinguished from categories in other metafunctional domains, especially Theme (Section 6.3.1 above) and Actor (Section 6.5.1 below); partly because it is often “left out” (this is only a source of confusion if you start by assuming the grammar of English as the norm!). Functionally the Subject is the element that is semantically bonded with the Predicator to form an arguable proposition – it is the “modally responsible element” (Halliday 1967– 1968, 1970, 1985). In an English finite clause, the Subject interacts with the Finite (verbal operator) to signal the choice of mood. In Chinese, where there is no system of finiteness, the Subject may be “ellipsed”; that is, it may be presumed from elsewhere, not only (as in English) at the level of wording, i.e. in a syntactic relationship of “substitution by zero”, but also (unlike English) at the level of referential meaning, i.e. in a semantic relationship of “co-reference”. Such ellipsis is typically anaphoric, with reference to a preceding mention in the text; but it may also be exophoric, with reference to the situation (cf the discussion in Section 6.3.1 above on Theme ellipsis). In a systemic functional analysis of text, there is no need to insert a dummy structural element (a “zero subject”) into the syntactic representation of a “subjectless” clause, because the function of predication is carried by the feature “major clause”, or more specifically by the systemic features “indicative” / “imperative”. All such clauses have a functional role of Subject, if not “filled” then presumed, and if presumed then typically recoverable either structurally or referentially. The fact that the Subject in English cannot be (referentially, as opposed to structurally) ellipsed is related to the fact, already referred to, that the ordering of Subject and Finite is crucial to the realization of mood; you cannot show ordering between two elements if one of them is not there. In Chinese the Subject plays no part in signalling the mood of the clause. A subset of declarative clauses is exclamative in function. These are often marked by a degree adverb duó “how . . . !”, tài “too” or zh¯en “truly”, and/or with the assessment particle a (27): (27)

Subject Predicator Mood Nèi ge rén chu¯an de y¯ıfu zh¯en piàoliang a! that meas person wear sub clothes really pretty mod: excl. “The clothes that person is wearing are really pretty.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

... Indicative: Interrogative In Chinese, as in most languages, there is a systemic distinction between two types of interrogative, the elemental (also called “lexical”, “non-polar”, or, in English, “wh-interrogative”) and the polar (also called “yes/no interrogative”). We will discuss the elemental interrogative first. .... Interrogative: Elemental The elemental interrogative is characterized by the presence of an interrogative word, either nominal (in nominal group) or adverbial (in adverbial or verbal group). A list of the usual interrogative expressions is given in Table 6.9. These cover more or less the same range of question types as interrogative words do in English. But whereas interrogative expressions in English appear at the front of the clause, those in Chinese occupy the same place in the clause as the element that is being sought (28): (28)

Shéi zhˇao wˇo? who look for I “Who’s looking for me?”

Nˇı zhˇao shéi? you look for who “Who are you looking for?”

Most of these interrogative words also function in declarative clauses, as equivalent of English indefinite terms (e.g. no one, (not . . . ) anyone, everyone). The relationship of negative to interrogative can be seen in an exchange such as the following: (29)

Nˇı qù nˇar? you go where “Where are you going?”

Wˇo bù qù nˇar. I neg go anywhere “I’m not going anywhere.”

Table 6.9 Interrogative words in Chinese class nominal pronoun

item shéi shénme nˇa jˇı

meaning: interrog. who what determiner which numeral which (number); how many (below 10) du¯oshao how much/many (above 10) adverbial clausal zˇenme how, what for adverb zˇenmeyàng how, what like nˇar, nˇali where wèishénme why shénme shíhou when degree adverb duó [+ adj.vb.] how [+ adjective]

meaning: indefinite anyone anything any [countable] a few [positive] some [positive] anyhow in any way anywhere at any time however [+adj.]

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

But their most frequent non-interrogative function is that of defining the scope of the adverbs d¯ou “all, in all cases” and yˇe “also, even” as either all-inclusive or allexclusive; in this case the interrogative word precedes the adverb, either at the very beginning of the clause or immediately following the Subject: (30)

Shéi d¯ou rènshi zhèi ge rén. who all know this meas person “Everyone knows this guy.”

(31)

T¯a shénme yˇe bù xiˇang ch¯ı. s/he what even neg want eat “She doesn’t want to eat anything.”

... Interrogative: Polar These differ systemically from those in English, since the Chinese system incorporates a distinction between two types, “biassed” and “unbiassed”. The biassed type is formed from a declarative clause with the addition of the clausal particle ma (32): (32)

Nˇı qù ma? you go mod:int “Are you going?”

Nˇı bù qù ma? I neg go mod:int “Aren’t you going?”

The unbiassed type, sometimes called in English “A-not-A”, is formed in the neutral aspect by repeating the first element in the verbal group (auxiliary if present; otherwise verb) with the negative particle in between (33): (33)

Nˇı qù bù qù? you go neg go “Are you going (or not)?”

If there is a Complement following the Predicator this can come either at the end, as in (34), or before the negative particle as in (35): (34)

Predicator Complement T¯a qù bù qù Shànghˇai? s/he go neg go “Is he going to Shanghai?”

(35)

Predi- Complement -cator Xiˇaohái’r nˇı yào xi¯angji¯ao bù yào? child you want banana neg want “Child, do you want a banana?”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

If the clause is perfective in aspect, the negative is méiyˇou, with yˇou substituting the repeated verb (36): (36)

Predicator Ch¯ezi xi¯u- hˇao le méiyˇou? car repair pv:complete asp neg:pf “Has the car been repaired (yet)?”

Systemically, the difference between the two types of polar interrogative lies in the fact that the “biassed” type selects for polarity: the speaker makes a statement, either positive or negative, and asks for it to be checked (hence confirmed or denied) (37, 38): (37)

Predicator Mood Ch¯ezi yˇıj¯ıng xi¯u-hˇao le ma? car already repair pv:complete asp mod:int “The car’s been repaired, has it?”

(38)

Predicator Mood Nˇı bù lˇeng ma? you neg cold mod:int “You’re not cold, are you?”

The unbiassed, on the other hand, is an open question, without any built-in point of departure. Thus in (36), yˇıj¯ıng “already” would be unlikely, since it would turn it into a leading question, whereas here no assumption is being made, and the answer might be anything from méiyˇou “hasn’t (no)” or hái méiyˇou “still hasn’t (not yet)” to zˇaojiù xi¯u-hˇao le “long-since repaired (it was repaired long ago)”. To a certain extent, then, the biassed (those with ma) are like English tagged declaratives, the unbiassed (those of the A-not-A type) are like straight interrogatives; but the equivalence is by no means exact, since tagged declaratives are also possible in Chinese, and the tags themselves may be of either the A-not-A type or the plus ma type. In particular, the combination of negative plus ma in either main clause or tag imparts a strong positive bias to the question (“tell me that I’m wrong”), much as in the English equivalents Aren’t you going? or You’re going, aren’t you?

.... Declarative questions It is not uncommon for a clause that is structurally declarative to function semantically as a question. In such instances, it is typically marked out by intonation: the clauses rises to a higher register, particularly towards the end. This is especially marked on the tonic syllable(s), where it effects the realization of the lexical tone. Thus, tone 1 (high level) is pitched slightly higher; tone 2 (rising) rises to a higher point; tone 3 (dipping) falls less low; tone 4 (falling) falls

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

Table 6.10 The interaction between intonation and mood type in questions REGISTER high

neutral

ASSESSMENT no particle ⇑ nˇı bù yào? (you mean) tone 1 you don’t wànt ít? nˇı bù yào (so) tone 1 you don’t wànt it

+ ne ⇑ nˇı bù yào ne? tone 2. don’t you wánt it? nˇı bù yào ne tone 2. you don’t wánt it

+ ma ⇑ nˇı bù yào ma? tone 2 don’t you wànt ít nˇı bù yào ma? tone 2 don’t you wànt ít?

only to the mid point. (This last is particularly striking, as the fall covers only about half its usual range.) The higher register would be likely with a clause such as (39): (39)

Nˇı hái méi xi¯u-hˇao? you still neg:pf repair pv:complete “(You mean to say) you haven’t repaired it yet?”

The question arises whether such high register clauses should still be considered as declarative in the grammar, or whether they should be considered as grammatically interrogative. There are arguments both ways; but it is perhaps more explanatory to regard them as interrogative, and specifically as related to the biassed type, to which they are closely agnate (note the analogous effect of the choice of polarity). The two would thus form a subsystem, realized respectively by what Caffarel (1995) refers to as “intonational prosody” (high/neutral register) and “grammatical prosody” (with/ without ma). We mentioned above that there are particles other than ma, and referred to one regular context for the particle a, namely in exclamatives. The particle ne, while it does not switch mood from declarative to interrogative (as ma does), is nevertheless regularly associated with questioning; and we can recognize a kind of “cline of interrogativity” in a display such as that in Table 6.10 above. Here English equivalents are included, with intonation marked (following Halliday 1967; cf. 1994: Chapter 8), so as to give an idea of the semantic space that is being construed by the variants in Chinese. There is in fact one context in which the particle ne is specifically interrogative, namely when a proposition is transferred to an alternative Subject (“and how about?”), the remainder of the clause being presumed (40): (40) (Wo hái méi kàn-wán,) nˇı ne? I still neg:pf read pv:finish you mod:open “(I still haven’t finished reading it,) what about you?” The system of phase is presented below (Section 6.5.2.2); here we just draw attention to the special forms and meanings of interrogative mood that are open to completive phase. As an example, the verb kàn “look” marked for completive phase

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

by the postverb jiàn “perceive” becomes kàn-jian “see”. In perfective aspect, the polar interrogative of this is formed as expected: biassed (41a) or unbiassed (41b). (41) a.

Nˇı kàn-jian you look pv:perceive “Did you see?” b. Nˇı kàn-jian you look pv:perceive “Did you see?”

le ma? asp mod:int le méiyˇou? asp neg:pf

However in neutral aspect the negative particle is inserted between verb and postverb, and the meaning is (negative) potential, e.g. (biassed) (42a): (42) a.

Nˇı kàn-bù-jiàn ma? you look neg:pot pv:perceive mod:int “Can’t you see it?” (You can’t see it, is that right?)

This then has a marked positive agnate, formed with the positive particle de (42b): b. Nˇı (hái) kàn-de-jiàn ma? you still look pos:pot pv:perceive mod:int “You can see it (after all), can’t you?” There is also a corresponding unbiassed form, still potential but now as open question with positive and negative as alternatives (42c): c.

Nˇı kàn-de-jiàn kàn-bù-jiàn? you look pos:pot pv:perceive look neg:pot pv:perceive “Can you see it?”

The answer typically repeats the appropriate form in full: kàn-de-jiàn “yes (I can see it)”, kàn-bù-jiàn “no (I can’t see it)”.

... Imperative Jussives, the unmarked form of the command (“you ...!”), have a Predicator realized by a verb in the simple form (unmarked for aspect or phase), often preceded by the personal pronouns nˇı “you”, nín “you (higher status)”, and nˇımen “you (plural)”. These are commonly toneless, as opposed to tone-reduced for the indicative; this form with explicit addressee is not a “marked person” variant as it would be in English. Depending on process type, the Predicator may be preceded by an adverbial element of manner such as màn “slow”, e.g. Màn(m¯an) zˇou “Leave slowly” (said by a host to a guest on departure), or followed by a nominal element of degree, e.g. Kuài diˇan’r “Hurry up”, literally “quicker by a little” (this quasi-comparative expression is the standard form of the imperative with adjectival verbs).

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

The negative imperative is marked by the modal bùyào “don’t”, “must not”; or by a form that is generally explained as a contraction of this, bié (although Norman 1988: 127, throws doubts on this derivation, preferring to explain it as stemming from the original meaning of bié as “other”; hence “do otherwise than this, don’t do this”). The negative imperative may be preceded by Adjuncts such as juéduì “absolutely” or y¯ıdìng “definitely”. There is also a milder variant of the negative imperative, the modal bùyòng, or its contraction béng, “no need to”, literally “there is no use (doing)”. Both positive and negative may be preceded by qˇıng “please”, originally and still a full verb “request”, but syntactically now also an interpersonal element, as shown by the fact that it need not be followed by nˇı / nín / nˇımen “you”. As with interrogatives, the imperative clause is often accompanied by a particle, perhaps most characteristically the “suggestive” particle ba. Optatives (first person imperatives) may be either first person only, “let me...”, or first and second person “let’s...”. They are constructed like the jussive, the former having wˇo “I, me” instead of nˇı etc “you”; the wˇo is again toneless and often followed by lái “come”, here an auxiliary verb indicating an offer: (43) Wˇo lái gˇei nˇı zuò ba! I come for you do mod:sug “I”ll do it for you, shall I?” The latter often employ a special inclusive pronoun as Subject, zámen “we, i.e. you and I” (sometimes in combinations contracted to zán, e.g. zán liˇa “the two of us”), equivalent to let’s in English. This is particularly a feature of natives of Beijing, on whose dialect the standard language is based, and normally occurs only as Subject in imperative clauses: (44) Zámen háishì xi¯an huí-qu ba! you and I rather first return pv:go mod:sug “Let’s go back first, shall we?” or in modulated declaratives (see Section 6.4.2 below): (45) Zámen hái dˇei zuò ch¯e ne! you and I still must sit vehicle asp:impf “We still have to catch the bus.” However since it has become one of the markers of a “correct” use of the standard language, zámen is sometimes used by other speakers in indicative clause types, and even in a non-inclusive sense.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

.. The system of modality Unlike the system of mood, and the textual systems we looked at in the previous section, from which features must be chosen in all independent major clauses, modality is an elective system. In Chinese, as in English, we may recognize two distinct kinds of modality: modalization, the negotiation of probability, and modulation, the negotiation of obligation; charting the continuum between “is” and “isn’t” (modalization) on the one hand, and between “do” and “don’t” (modulation) on the other. There are several points to be noted about these systems. The first is that, like location and duration in time (and unlike the more abstract category of aspect), modality is lexicalized. The second is that, being lexicalized, it admits some (although rather limited) combinations: e.g. y¯ıngg¯ai yào “should must” or bìx¯u dˇei “must have to”. Thirdly, as in English, both subtypes are graded: for example, with the obligation subtype of modulation: kˇeyˇı “may” (low), yào “have to” (median), bìx¯u “must” (high). The lexical items realizing degrees of modality fall into one or other of two classes. Those of modalization form a subclass of adverbs, modal adverbs, analogous to English probably, possibly, certainly, and so on. They typically follow the Subject (46a), but may precede it, in becoming thematic (46b): (46) a.

T¯a kˇenéng bù xiˇang qù ba. s/he perhaps neg want go mod:sug “He perhaps doesn’t want to go.” b. Dàgài t¯amen méi sh¯ou-dào. probably they neg:pf receive pv:reach “Probably they didn’t receive it.”

Those of modulation, in contrast, are a subclass of verbs, modal auxiliaries, analogous to English must, should, may, and so on; they cannot precede the Subject. Two auxiliaries, huì “be willing to” and yào “want to”, also function as expressions of probability, respectively low and median degrees. Example (47) illustrates probability followed by obligation, (a) low and (b) median: (47) a.

Huì xià yˇu, nˇı háishì dài yˇusˇan ba. might fall rain you rather take umbrella mod:sug “It might rain, better take an umbrella.” b. Yào xià yˇu, nˇı y¯ıngg¯ai dài yˇusˇan will fall rain you should take umbrella “It’s likely to rain, you should take an umbrella.”

The three degrees of modality, low/median/high, can be distinguished along the same lines as in English, by the reciprocity of straight vs. transferred negative which

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

Table 6.11a. Negative obligation median [supposed not to/ not supposed to] “straight” [negative y¯ıngg¯ai bù on the proposal] “should not (do)” “transferred” bù y¯ıngg¯ai [negative on “shouldn’t (do)” modality]

low [allowed not to/ not required to] kˇeyˇı bù “can not (do)” bù x¯uyào “needn’t (do)”

outer high [required not to/ not allowed to] x¯uyào bù “must not (do)” bù kˇeyˇı “can’t (do)”

low [possibly not / not certain that] kˇenéng bù “may not (be)” bù y¯ıdìng “needn’t (be)”

outer high [certainly not / not possible that] y¯ıdìng bù “must not (be)” bù kˇenéng “can’t (be)”

low huì, yuànyi “be willing to” yˇoushí “sometimes”

outer high y¯ıdìng yào “insist on” zˇong(shì) “always”

Table 6.11b. Negative probability median [probably not / not probable that] “straight” [negative dàgài bù on the proposition] “will not (be)” “transferred” — [negative on (“won’t (be)”) modality]

Table 6.11c. Inclination and usuality median inclination usuality

xiˇang, yào “want to” píngcháng “usually”

marks out the median from the two outer degrees. The system for modulation (obligation) can be construed as in Table 6.11a above. In modalization (probability) there is no transferred negative with the median term; but the pattern still holds with the outer terms. It is possible to recognize systems of inclination and usuality organized into the same three degrees, with inclination realized (like obligation) by modal auxiliaries, and usuality (like probability) by modal adverbs. Table 6.11c presents the typical forms. There is also a modal expression of ability, néng(gòu) “be able to”, huì “know how to”; this stands somewhat outside the modality system, but the fact that the common expression bù néng bù “cannot not” means “can’t avoid, have to” suggests that it forms part of the system of modulation. For the expression of potentiality as part of the phase system, see Section 6.5.2.2 below.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

.. A note on the system of polarity We have already introduced the negative particles: bù in indicative, neutral aspect; méi(yˇou) in indicative, marked aspect; bùyào or bié in imperative. There will be further mention of negative polarity in Section 6.5 below, especially with reference to existential processes (6.5.1.1.1) and completive phase (6.5.2.2). The basic opposition, as will be assumed, is that between positive and negative, with negative as the marked term; a number of verbal adverbs are used to reinforce the polarity, e.g. kˇendìng “positively”, juéduì “absolutely”, y¯ıdìng “definitely”, and (with negative) bìng bù “certainly not”, and the verb shì “be” functions as auxiliary verb in a contrastive, marked positive sense. There is a difference between English and Chinese in regard to the metafunctional interpretation of polarity. In Chinese, polarity is unambiguously an interpersonal system, so that the equivalent of “yes” or “no” implies “I agree / disagree with you (the speaker)”; whereas in English polarity has moved towards an ideational interpretation, where “yes” or “no” implies “the proposition (i.e. the state of affairs being represented) is positive/negative”. This can be seen in the confirmatory response to a negative question: where English will answer “no” (Aren’t you coming? – No (I’m not coming)), Chinese will answer the equivalent of “yes” (meaning “you are right”). In Chinese, a positive or negative answer is typically given by repeating the Predicator, with or without accompanying modal auxiliaries and negative adverbs, or else by du¡H “right”; translation equivalents of “yes” and “no”, shì (de) and bù, are less frequent and seldom occur alone.

.. The system of assessment The class of clausal particles in Mandarin, all of which occur clause-finally, includes two which are aspectual (le and ne; see Section 6.5.2.1 below); the remaining four are ba, ma, ne and a (the last often takes the form ya, wa, na or nga after syllables ending in [pinyin] -i, -o, -n, -ng respectively). We have already referred to these in the discussion of mood, to which they related in different measure: ma is the marker of one type of interrogative (where without it the clause would be declarative, at least in neutral register); ne is strongly associated with interrogative; on the other hand ba and a, while characteristic of imperative and exclamative respectively, are equally at home with clauses of every mood. In our table of word classes (Section 6.2.3 above) we classified these as “modal particles”, notating them both under “mood” and under a second category of “assessment”. Looking at them now from this latter point of view, we could interpret all four as realizing a grammatical system of assessement, whereby the speaker signals attitude to, and degree of involvement in, the proposition or proposal of the clause. This would include ma in its interrogative sense, a biassed polar question being

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

Table 6.12 Features of assessment high

median low

ma ne a ba (ma a ma (ne

indicative assertive demanding exclamative opinative biassed question) tentative hesitative “how about . . . ?”)

imperative insistent

suggestive molliative

thought of as one kind of assessment of a proposition. The meaning of each particle varies, of course, not only (as is to be expected) with the choice of mood but also in the context of other factors such as choice of polarity and affective loading; Table 6.12 above offers English glosses to suggest the general nuances they carry. Note that only one such particle can occur in any one clause; clausal particles cannot be combined. As the table suggests, we can recognize three degrees of forcefulness in the assessment, corresponding to the three degrees of modality (though without the explicit criteria provided by the transferred negative modals). In its semantic range, the assessment system corresponds more or less to systems in English that are realized by intonation (cf. Table 6.10 above; also Halliday 1967), where the meaning likewise depends on the environment of other systems, especially that of mood. Mandarin also makes use of intonational contrasts, though not as many as English (which has no particles); we have not attempted to introduce these here. At the other extreme is Cantonese, which (unlike Mandarin) is a prototypical “tone language” where syllables always retain their lexical tone. Cantonese makes a very limited systematic use of intonation; but it has a rich selection of final particles (over 100, if combinations are included) which construe mood, modality, scope, evidentiality and a wide range of features in the general area of assessment (Kwok 1984). Figure 6.2 below presents a system network for mood in Chinese.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

Figure 6.2 The system of mood in Chinese

.. Texts illustrating interpersonal systems and structures Text 3 Getting away with it (Extract) A

(1) N¢Hn rènshi wˇo ma? you recognize I mod:int “Do you recognize me?” [interrog.: biassed]

B

(2) Bù rènshi. neg recognize “No.” [decl.: negative] [. . . ]

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

A

(3) Nín kˇe bù rènshi wˇo? you vadv neg recognize I “You really don’t recognize me?” [inter.,: biassed: inton./negative]

B

(4) Nà shéi rènshi nín ne? well who recognize you mod:dem “Well who does know you then?” [inter,: elem. demanding]

A

(5) Wˇo kˇe rènshi wˇo. I vadv recognize I “Well I know me.” [decl.]

B

(6) Du¯o x¯ınxi¯an [n]a! how fresh mod:excl. “Big news!” [minor: exclam.] (7) Nín zìj˘ı hái néng bù rènshi zìj˘ı? you self vadv aux neg recognize self “How could you not know yourself?” [interrog,: biassed: intonation/negative: straight [on proposition]/ modulation: able]

A

(8) Nín bù rènshi wˇo, you neg recognize I “If you don’t know me,” [declar. [dependent] / neg.] (9) dào wˇomen chˇangzi, go-to we factory “go to our works;” [imper.: jussive] (10) dàji¯a kˇe d¯ou rènshi wˇo, everyone vadv all recognize I “they all know me there.” [declar.] [. . . ]

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

A

(11) Shàng x¯ıngq¯ıl -lˇı h¯eibˇan bào y¯ılián bˇa wˇode míngzì last week-in blackboard bulletin sucessively disp my name d¯eng-guo q¯ı cì, publish asp:pf seven time “Last week they had my name up on the blackboard seven times in succession,” [declar.] (12) quán chˇang-lˇı wˇo shì diˇanxíng whole works-in I be model “I was a model for the whole works” [declar.] [. . . ]

B

(13) Xi¯anjìn sh¯engchˇan-zhˇe? advanced produce nom “Production hero?” [inter. [ellipt.]: biassed:inton.]

A

(14) Fèi pˇın dàwáng. waste goods great king “Garbage king.” [minor]

B

(15) Fèi pˇın dàwáng a! waste goods great king mod:excl “Garbage king!” [minor: exclam.] (16) Bù yòng shu¯o d¯eng nà q¯ı cì bˇanbào neg aux say publish dem num mn boardbulletin zhˇun shì p¯ıpíng. definitely be criticizen “Needless to say, putting your name on the bulletin board seven times was obviously criticizing you.” [declar.]

A

(17) Bù shì p¯ıpíng. neg be criticize “It wasn’t criticizing.” [declar./neg.]

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

B

(18) Shì biˇaoyáng be praise “It was praising?” [interrog.: biassed: inton.]

A

(19) Shì p¯ıpàn. be critique “It was critiquing.” [declar.]

B

(20) p¯ı . . . p¯ıpàn? crit- critique “Critiquing?” [interrog.: biassed: inton.] (21) Hé p¯ıpíng shì y¯ıyàng a! cv criticize be same mod:excl “That’s the same as criticizing!” [declar.: exclam.]

A

(22) Zhè ge cí bˇı p¯ıpíng hˇaot¯ıng y¯ıdiˇan. det meas word cv criticize good listen one bit “That word sounds a bit better than criticizing.” [declar.]

B

(23) Wèishénme p¯ıpàn nín ne? why critique you mod:dem “Why were they critiquing you?” [inter.: elem.: demanding]

A

(24) Shu¯o say “They said.” [declar.] (25) wˇo j¯ıchuáng bˇaoyˇang de bù hˇao. I lathe maintain vpart neg good “I wasn’t maintaining my lathe properly.” [declar. [projected]]

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

[. . . ] (26) Xiù yˇe yˇou bàn-f¯en hòu ne. rust vadv have half-fraction thick asp:impf “And the rust was half an inch thick.” [declar.] B

(27) Nà nín jiù g¯ai c¯a ya! pcon you pcon aux polish mod:ins “Then you’d better polish it!” [declar. / modul.: obl.: hi.]

A

(28) Kˇe wˇo yˇou kòng ma? vadv I have leisure mod:int “Where’ll I get the time?” [interrog.: biassed] [. . . ] (29) J¯ıqì de xiù tài hòu le, machine sub rust dadv thick asp:pf “If there’s too thick rust on the machine,” [declar. [dependent]] (30) yào c¯a, aux polish “and you want to polish it,” [declar. [dependent]] (31) jiù dˇei du¯o lˇıng diˇan yóu; pcon aux much draw bit oil “you’ve got to get hold of some more oil;” [declar. / modul.: oblig.: high] (32) yóu du¯o oil much “and if there’s a lot of oil,” [declar. [dependent]] (33) jiù dˇei yòng yi ge dà tˇong. pcon aux use one meas big bucket “you’ve got to use a big bucket.” [declar. / modul.: oblig.: high]

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(34) Wˇo zhˇao le bàn-ti¯an I seek asp:pf half-day “I looked for ages” [declar.] (35) méi zhˇao- zháo. neg:pf seek pv:get “but couldn’t find one. [declar. / neg.] (36) Hòulái zài yuànzi-lˇı zhˇao-dào le yi ge tˇong, afterwards be-at yard-in seek-pv:go-to asp:pf one meas bucket “afterwards I found a bucket in the yard,” [declar.] [. . . ] (37) Wˇang tˇong-lˇı fàng yóu, towards bucket-in put oil “let the oil into the bucket,” [declar.] [. . . ] (38) guòle bàn-ti¯an huítou y¯ı kàn . . . cv half day later one look “after a long time went and had a look . . . ” [declar.] B

(39) Tˇong mˇan le? bucket full asp: pf “The bucket was full?” [inter.: biassed: inton.]

A

(40) Méi mˇan ne. neg:pf full asp:impf “It still wasn’t full.” [declar. / neg.]

B

(41) Zhème cháng de shíji¯an hái méi mˇan? so long sub time vadv neg:pf full “It still wasn’t full after all that time?” [inter.: biassed: inton. / neg.]

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

A

(42) Shì ya! yes mod:excl “No.” [minor: agreeing with neg.] [. . . ] (43) Dˇeng wˇo zˇıxì y¯ı kàn, hcon I careful one look “When I looked closely,” [declar. [dependent]] (44) zhè ge yóutˇong a . . . det meas oil bucket mod:excl “This oil bucket . . . ”

B

(45) Lòu de? leak mod:sug “Leaking? ” [interrog.: biassed: inton.]

A

(46) Bù lòu. neg leak “No. ” [declar. / neg.]

B

(47) Yˇou yˇan? have hole “It had a hole in it? ” [interrog.: biassed: inton.]

A

(48) Méiyˇou. neg have “No. ” [declar. / neg.]

B

(49) Nà zˇenme huí shì? pcon how meas matter “So what was wrong then?” [inter.: elemental]

A

(50) Méiyˇou dˇı. neg have bottom

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

“It had no bottom.” [declar. / neg.] B

(51) Méiyˇou dˇı, neg have bottom “Well if it had no bottom.” [declar. [dependent] / neg.] (52) nà du¯oshˇao yóu yˇe zhu¯ang-bù-mˇan ne! pcon how much oil vadv fill neg pv:full mod: dem “it would never fill however much oil you put in!” [declar. / neg. [indef. pot.]: assertive]

Text 4: Transaction A = middle-aged female seller, B = young male buyer A

(1)

Subj. Q.word Dàniáng, zhèige lánzi du¯oshˇao qián? aunt this meas basket how much money “Auntie, how much for this basket?” [inter.: elemental]

B

(2) Èrshí kuài. twenty yuan “Twenty yuan” [minor]

A

(3) Adj. Pred. Tài guì le! too expensive asp:pf “(That)’s too expensive” [declar.] (4) Modal. Pred. Néng bù néng piányí yidiˇan’r? can neg can cheap a-little “Can (you make it) a bit cheaper?” [inter.: polar: bal. / modul.: pot.]


B

(5) Subj. Adj. Pred. Xiˇaohuˇozi, zhè kˇe shì wˇo zìjˇı zào-chulai de, shˇoug¯ong yìpˇın young-man this emph be I self make-out sub hand-made artwork “Young man, I wove it myself, it’s handcrafted” [declar.] Pred. (6) Pol. Mod. bù néng zài piányí le. neg can further cheap asp:perf. “(I) can’t make (it) any cheaper.” [declar. / modul.: pot. / neg.]

A

(7)

Subj. Pred. Dàniáng, wˇo shì xuésheng, aunt I be student “Auntie, I’m a student,” [declar.]

(8) Pol./Pred. méi nème du¯o qián, neg:possess so much money “I don’t have a lot of money,” [declar.] (9) Pred. Q.word gˇei shí kuài zˇenmeyàng? give ten yuan what-like “How about (I) give (you) ten yuan?” [inter.: elemental] B

(10) Pol. Pred. Neg. Bù xíng a, xiˇaohuˇozi. neg okay mod: mol. young man “Can’t do it , young man.” [declar.: ass.: moll.] (11)

Subj. Pred. Zhèi niántóur, shénme d¯ou zhàng jià’r this year what all increase price “These days everything’s going up,” [declar.]

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 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(12)

Mod. Pred. Q.word Neg. èrshí kuài qián néng mˇai shénme ya? twenty yuan money can buy what mod:excl. “What can you buy even for twenty yuan?” [inter.: elemental / modal / ass.: mol.]

A

(13) Subj. Adj. Pred. Zhèi ge lánzi zh¯ende hˇen piàoliang, this meas basket really very pretty “This basket is really pretty,” [declar.] (14) Subj. Adj. Pred. Nˇı de shˇouyì zh¯en bàng! you sub handiwork really great “You’re so skilful,” [declar.]

B

(15) Pred. Tag Neg. gˇei shíwˇu kuài qián xíng ma? give fifteen yuan money okay mod:int. “How about fifteen yuan?” [declar.: tagged: int.: pol.: bias]

B

(16) Subj. Adj. Pred. Neg. Nˇı zh¯ende xˇıhuan ma? you really like mod:int. “Do you really like (it)” [inter.: polar: bias / pos.]

A

(17) Adj. Pred. F¯eicháng xˇıhuan! extremely like “(I) like (it) a lot!” [declar.]

B

(18) Pred. Neg. Hˇao ba, good mod: sug. “Okay then” [declar.: ass.: sug.]

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

B

(19)

Pred. jiù suàn mài ge rénqíngr, shíwˇu kuài qián, just reckon sell meas favour fifteen yuan money “(I’ll) sell (it to you) for fifteen as a favour,” [declar.]

(20) Pred. Neg. ná-qu ba, take go mod: sug. “take it.” [imper.: ass.: sug.]

. Experiential metafunction In the experiential metafunction the principal systems are the basic system of transitivity and the elective systems of aspect and phase. The two latter may be grouped together under the heading of temporal systems, both being involved in the grammatical construal of time. Time in Chinese is grammaticized in a non-linear perspective. There is no grammatical category of tense, with time as a linear progression out of past through present into future; time is construed as the staging of a process in terms of inception and fullfilment. This takes two distinct but related systemic forms, aspectual and phasal. In aspect, a process is construed as either unfolding (“imperfective”), culminating (“perfective”), or neither (“neutral”). Unfolding means that the process is significant in its ongoing, or as background to some other process; culminating means that it is significant in its closure, or as precondition to some other process. The neutral, unmarked option carries no aspectual meaning (see Section 6.5.2.1). In phase, a process is construed as either indeterminate (“neutral”) or determinate (“completive”). The neutral means that the process begins or is attempted, but with no further implication. The completive means that the process ends, or is successful. There is a highly elaborated grammatical system for construing completive phase, with a broad distinction into two types, “directional” and “resultative” (see Section 6.5.2.2). Because different kinds of process have different implications in relation to time, these two temporal systems are criterial in the definition of process types; they will therefore be referred to at various points in the course of the discussion of transitivity (Section 6.5.1), before being briefly presented in their own right (Section 6.5.2).

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

.. The system of transitivity The system of transitivity in Chinese includes the two simultaneous systems of nuclear transitivity (process type) and circumstantial transitivity (circumstance type); a further system of agency may be recognized, but unlike in English it does not operate consistently across all process types. We will discuss mainly nuclear transitivity (Sections 6.5.1.1–3), and then touch briefly on the other systems (Sections 6.5.1.4–5). Finally we shall summarize the alternatives that have been proposed in the categorization of process types (Section 6.5.1.6). The basic process type distinctions are set out on the next page. We have found it helpful to present these in the opposite order to the more familiar one shown in the diagram below. Since there are a number of different ways in which the transitivity options in Chinese have been categorized in systemic functional frameworks, we will note various possible alternative analyses and then briefly summarize some of the alternative taxonomies (Section 6.5.1.6).

... Relational Processes The relational process type may be divided into three basic subtypes: existential (Section 6.5.1.1.1), attributive (Section 6.5.1.1.2), and identifying (Section 6.5.1.1.3). Relational verbs may also act as extensions of other processes (Section 6.5.1.1.4). transitive material intransitive mental

verbal existential relational

attributive identifying

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

.... Existential Prototypical existential processes have the verb yˇou “exist” as Process, followed by the Existent; there are no other participants. This existential Process has a special negative méi, which as noted in Section 6.4.3 above also functions as a negative of perfective aspect: (48) a.

Yˇou cháshuˇı ma? exist tea mod:int “Is there any tea?” b. Méi yˇou (cháshuˇı). neg exist tea “There isn’t (any tea).”

With a personalized Subject, yˇou is the ordinary verb of possession “have”: (49) T¯a yˇou liˇang ge háizi. s/he have two meas child “She has two children.” When the existence is qualified circumstantially, e.g. by an expression of Place, the circumstantial element is typically thematic, the Existent coming in culminative position as unmarked New: (50) Bàozhˇı shang yˇou guˇanggào. newspaper on exist advertisement “There’s an advertisement in the paper.” (contrast English, where such expressions typically have marked information focus on the Existent, e.g.: There’s a fly in my soup). This type of process extends to other verbs of “eventuating”, e.g. f¯ash¯eng “happen”, ch¯uxiàn “appear”, lái “come”; such processes are normally marked for perfective aspect: (51) a.

F¯ash¯eng le y¯ı jiàn yùliào zh¯ıwài de shì. happen asp:pf one meas expectation outside sub matter “There occurred something unexpected.”

In such cases there is a contrast with an agnate middle clause having Actor plus material process: (51) b. Zhème huài de shì cónglái méi f¯ash¯eng. such bad sub matter hitherto neg:pf happen “Such a bad thing has never before occurred.” In these two examples, as the translations have been constructed to suggest, the textual implications are the opposite, with the Actor in (51b) being conflated with

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

the Given, whereas the Existent in (51a) was conflated with the New. A further textual possibility is the conflating of New with the Process, as in (52b) below: (52) a.

Yˇou niúnˇai ma? exist milk mod:int “Is there any milk (here)?” (I’m not sure if you stock it) b. Niúnˇai yˇou ma? milk exist mod:int “Is there any milk (left)?” (has it sold out?)

Existentials with yˇou also function as presenting expressions for participants in a clause of any type, e.g. material in (53a) or verbal in (53b): (53) a.

Cóngqián, yˇou ge rén zài tián li zhòng dì. formerly exist meas person be-at field in plant land “Once there was a man working in the fields.” b. Méi yˇou huà shu¯o. neg exist speech say “There is nothing to say.”

In cases with an ellipsed Subject there may be ambiguity, with a clause such as (53b) being open to two interpretations: either existential “There is nothing to say” or attributive (possessive) “(I) have nothing to say”. Such presenting expressions are never marked for aspect. Existential clauses having a circumstance of location, such as the famous example in (54a) (cited in debates on “subject” in the 1950s), frequently contrast with an agnate presentative clause having a process specifying the posture or other mode of existence, as in (54b). Clauses of the latter type are always marked for imperfective aspect, showing unfolding through time: (54) a.

Táishang yˇou zhˇuxítuán. platform on exist presidium “On the platform was the presidium.” b. Táishang zuò zhe zhˇuxítuán. platform on sit asp:impf presidium “On the platform sat the presidium.”

Finally, one further type of existential process is the meteorological one, e.g. xià yˇu “to rain” (literally “fall + rain”), gu¯a f¯eng “to be windy” (“blow + wind”), dòng b¯ıng “to be freezing” (“freeze + ice”). These also have material agnates, which may be marked for completive phase, often in conjunction with perfective aspect (“this is the situation now”). Compare the existential clause (55a) with the material clauses (55b) and (55c):

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(55) a.

Xià yˇu le. fall rain asp: pf “It’s started to rain.” b. Yˇu xià-dà le. rain fall pv:big asp: pf “The rain has got heavier.” c. Yˇu bù xià le. rain neg fall asp: pf “It’s stopped raining.”

An alternative analysis of existential processes (McDonald 1998) would treat them, like all relationals, as two-participant processes, with the prototypical structure being Location ^ Process ^ Existent, or Possessor ^ Process ^ Possessed. In this view, when there is no element Location or Possessor present in the clause, such an element would be considered to be implied; it could in fact always be added, e.g. example (48) above could take a Location such as zhèli “here”. Processes indicating meanings of occurrence or appearance, such as example (51a) above, would be analysed as material; their similarity to relational clauses would be explained by the informational structure, and by the effect of aspect marking which turns an action into “coming into being” (perfective) or “maintaining a state” (imperfective). Under such an interpretation, meteorological processes would be classified as intransitive material clauses, on the grounds that they have only one inherent participant, and are open to marking for aspect and phase.

.... Attributive The attributive subtype of relational processes divides into four further subtypes: circumstantial,3 possessive, ascriptive, and categorizing. ..... Circumstantial In the circumstantial subtype, the Process is a verb equivalent to English “be/ go + [preposition]”: e.g. zài “be at”, dào “go to (get to, reach)”, péi “go with (accompany)”, wàng “go towards”, cháo “be towards (face)”, xiàng “be like (resemble)” and so on . For example: (56) Zhè ji¯an w¯uzi cháo d¯ong. this meas room face east “This room faces east.” (57) T¯a bù xiàng t¯a m¯ama. s/he neg resemble s/he mummy “She’s not like her mummy.” Aspectually these fall into three clearly defined classes: (i) those of motion – e.g. dào “reach”, wˇang “go towards”, péi “accompany” – which can take perfective aspect; (ii) those of position – e.g. zài “be at”, cháo “face”, wéi “be around (surround)” –some,

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

though not all, of which can take imperfective aspect; (iii) those of relation – e.g. xiàng “be like”, yˇougu¯an “be about” – which can take neither of the marked aspects. None of these three types can take completive phase. In general, these verbs can be “downgraded” to function as the minor Process in a circumstantial element, typically in a material clause. They then usually precede the material Process: compare, for example, (58a) and (58b): (58) a.

Wˇo zài huˇoch¯ezhàn. I be-at train-stop “I’m at the train station.” b. Wˇo zài huˇoch¯ezhàn dˇeng nˇı. I be-at train stop wait you “I’ll wait for you at the train station.”

As minor process they cannot take perfective aspect, which can only have the full clause as its domain; but some of them can take imperfective aspect: (59) Xiˇaoháizi rào zhe shù pˇao. child go-around asp:impf tree run “The children were running around the tree.”

..... Possessive As noted above, the verb yˇou, which occurs without Subject in existential processes, also occurs with personalized Subject as a possessive: (60) Wˇo yˇou y¯ı ge jìhuà. I have one meas plan “I have a plan.” This is the prototypical form of possessive clause. Various other verbs occur in this process type, often literary compounds with yˇou as the second element: e.g. dàiyˇou “bring + have: display, feature”, fùyˇou “abundant + have: be richly endowed with”. (The form shˇuyú “to belong to”, which also tends to be used in written registers, especially in abstract senses, e.g. “belong to a category or class”, is a circumstantial process.)

..... Ascriptive In both the circumstantial and possessive subtypes of attributive clause, there are two participants, standing to each other in the relation of Carrier and Attribute. In ascriptives, on the other hand, the Attribute is conflated with the Process (cf. a few examples in English like ache “be painful”). Whereas in English, qualities of participants are construed as nominals (the adjective is a subclass of noun, as in the traditional distinction between “noun substantive” and “noun adjective”), in Chinese they are construed as verbals: the adjective is a subclass of verb, the “stative” or “adjectival” verb. This is the “ad-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

jective” of traditional Chinese grammar, which here, in accordance with a long tradition (Chao 1948), we treat as a subclass of verb, since it functions directly as Process in the clause, and may be marked temporally, both for aspect and for phase. The ascriptive clause is one which ascribes a quality to a participant; the nuclear elements are again Carrier and Attribute, but with the Attribute realized by an adjectival verbal group. An interesting feature of ascriptive clauses is that they are inherently gradable, and in a positive declarative clause the verbal group is normally preceded by a measure of degree, the most common being hˇen “very”, which in many cases is unstressed and has no intensive force; without some such element the clause will be interpreted as contrastive or comparative – compare (61a) and (61b): (61) a.

Zhèi k¯e shù yèzi hˇen dà. this meas tree leaf very big “This tree has big leaves.” b. Zhèi zhˇong shù yèzi dà, hu¯ar xiˇao. this type tree leaf big flower small “This type of tree has big leaves but small flowers.”

Other explicit expressions of degree are of course possible: (62) Zhè níngméng f¯eicháng su¯an. this lemon extremely sour “These lemons are extremely sour.” Ascriptive clauses can be marked for perfective aspect, often indicating a change of state, as in (63) and (64) below. (64) also includes an expression of extent. (63) Zhè báicài huài le. this cabbage bad asp: pf “This cabbage has gone off.” (64) T¯a pàng le liˇang g¯ongj¯ın. s/he fat asp: pf two kilogram “She’s got fatter by two kilos (She’s put on two kilos).” They may also be marked for certain kinds of completive phase, often in conjunction with perfective aspect: resultative phase in (65), (non-literal) directional phase in (66): (65) Wˇo lˇeng-huài le. I cold pv: bad asp: pf “I’m sick from cold (I’m frozen to death).”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(66) Ti¯an qíng-qilai le. sky clear pv:rise asp: pf “The sky’s starting to clear.” As in English, many expressions of quality in Chinese are construed as properties possessed by the participant in question, and hence realized as nouns: compare (67a) (adjectival verb) and its largely synonymous (67b) (“have” + noun). (67) a.

T¯a hˇen rˇennài. s/he very patient “He’s (very) patient.” b. T¯a hˇen yˇou nàixìng. s/he very have patience “He has (a lot of) patience.”

If we analyse the latter type strictly “from below”, in terms of their grammatical realization (other examples include yˇouqián “have + money: be rich”, yˇouqù “have + interest: be interesting”, yˇouyìsi “have + meaning: be significant”), it could be interpreted as a possessive process; but since such clauses can be graded (67b), and also compared (68), we are treating them here as a form of ascriptive. (68) T¯a bˇı wˇo yˇou nàixìng. s/he compare I have patience “He has more patience than me.” On the other hand, such examples are like possessives, and unlike many ascriptives, in that they cannot take completive phase. The ascriptive clause is the normal way of assigning qualities in Chinese – unlike English, which tends to construe them as Epithets. Contrast the following Chinese examples with their idiomatic English translation: (69) a.

Nèi tiáo hé hˇen ku¯an. that meas river very wide “That river’s very wide (That’s a very wide river).” b. T¯a sˇangzi hˇen hˇao. s/he voice very good “Her voice is very good (She has a very good voice).”

The same distinction can be seen with ascriptive clauses acting as modifiers in a nominal group, where the normal clausal form (with the “empty” degree marker hˇen) is linked to a following nominal group by the subordinating particle de: (69) c.

[[hˇen ku¯an de]] hé very wide sub river “a river which is very wide (a very wide river)”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

Such preferences are no doubt related to the different status of qualities in the two languages: nominal in English, hence the favoured pattern is that which incorporates the quality as Epithet in the nominal group; verbal in Chinese, hence the favoured pattern is that in which the quality functions as Process. They also lead to different solutions to the problem of thematizing the whole in cases where the quality is assigned to a part. In English, clauses such as she has a lovely voice, I have a headache are favoured relative to her voice is lovely, my head aches, because she, I represent the whole person, rather than the body part, as Theme. Chinese achieves the same effect by having the personal pronoun as absolute Theme, not forming part of the transitivity structure; e.g. (69b) t¯a sˇangzi hˇen hˇao “her, (the) voice (is) very good”, or (15) above, wˇo tóu téng “me, (the) head aches”, where only t¯a “she” and wˇo “I” are in the Theme. When Chinese does use the Epithet + Thing structure, it often retains the predicative status of the Attribute by a form of rankshift: e.g. the rankshifted clause in (69c) above, [[hˇen ku¯an de]] hé “a river which is very wide”, using the structure corresponding to an English relative clause, as in (69d): (69) d. [[wˇo yào de]] nèi bˇen sh¯u I want sub that meas book “the book I wanted” As has been pointed out by a number of scholars (cf Chao 1968; Ren 1997), when qualities are incorporated into the nominal group the resulting structure often takes on idiomatic interpretations, e.g. compare (70a) with (70b): (70) a.

Nèi ge rén hˇen qióng. that meas person very poor “That man is (very) poor.” b. T¯a shì ge qióngrén. s/he be meas poor person “He is a poor man (i.e. belongs to the class of poor people).”

Other examples of idiomatic Epithet + Thing structure include hˇaorén “good + person: good man/woman”; also “buddy, one of us”, lˇao péngyˇou “old + friend: old friend (friend of long standing)”, dàrén “big + person: adult”, mànch¯e “slow + vehicle: stopping train”. An alternative tradition in systemic functional accounts of transitivity in Chinese (e.g. Long 1981; McDonald 1992, 1998) classifies ascriptive processes as a separate, non-relational type. The reasoning behind this can be summarized as follows. Firstly, such clauses can be regarded as one-participant clauses, the Attribute not being considered a participant, and thus distinct from (other) relational clauses, which in general require two participants. Secondly, their behaviour in relation to phase marking is different from other relational processes; they take a

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

limited range of phase markers (something not open to other relational types), and the verbs which appear in ascriptive clauses (adjectival verbs) occur also as markers of completive phase (as postverbs combining with other types of process), something which is rare with verbs in other relational clauses. Such alternative analyses reflect different weight being given to different criteria within the transitivity system, and to its relations with other systems such as that of phase, including those from other metafunctions such the theme system; as always in systemic functional linguistics, we can note the arguments for and against different alternatives, and the different interpretations that they imply, without being obliged to characterize any particular one as “the correct” one.

..... Categorizing Categorizing processes are Carrier ^ Attribute clauses in which the relationship is intensive, not circumstantial or possessive, but in which the Attribute is a participant not a quality. The prototypical verb here is shì “be”; other verbs include d¯ang “act as”, zuò “act as, do the job of ”, wéi “be” (more formal, written style). Categorizing clauses assign the Carrier to some class: (71) Nà shì yángròu, bù shì niúròu. that be sheep meat neg be cow meat “That’s mutton, it’s not beef.” Where the Carrier is human, the class is often a role or status: (72) a.

T¯a shì lˇaosh¯ı. s/he be teacher “He’s a teacher.” b. T¯a shì Zh¯ongguórén s/he be China person “She’s Chinese.”

If the verb is specifically role-assigning, e.g. d¯ang “act as”, zuò “do the job of ”, it can be marked for aspect: (73) Wˇo d¯ang guo b¯ıng. I act-as asp:exp. soldier “I’ve been a soldier.” Where an adjectival verb is “framed” by the verb shì “be” and the subordinating particle de, the resulting clause becomes categorizing. Here the quality is explicitly construed as delimiting a class, either with a following noun as Thing, as in (74a), or without as in (74b) below. Here an ascriptive clause is being rankshifted to function as (part of) an Attribute in nominal form:

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(74) a.

T¯a shì [[hˇen ji¯aoào de]] (rén). s/he be very arrogant sub person “He’s a very arrogant person.” b. T¯a quánsh¯en d¯ou shì h¯eisè de. it whole body all be black colour sub “It’s black all over its body.”

Similar examples with rankshifted material clauses, where an activity is construed as delimiting a class, are often used to indicate occupations: (75) a.

T¯a shì [[mài bào de]]. s/he be sell newspaper sub “He’s a newspaper seller.” b. T¯a shì [[gˇao jìsuànj¯ı de]]. s/he be do computer sub “She works in computers.”

.... Identifying Identifying clauses are those in which two participants, one or both of which may be abstract (often nominalized), are equated with each other, in such a way that one serves as identification of the other, typically linked by the verb shì “be” (though this may be omitted in positive declarative clauses). For example: (76) a.

Nèi ge rén shì zhˇuxí. that meas person be chairman “That person is chairman.”

As in English, such clauses are normally reversible without change in the form of the verb: (76) b. Zhˇuxí shì nèi ge rén. chairman be that meas person “The chairman is that person.” The change in order changes the direction of the identification, as can be shown by a change in the implied question being answered, which for (76a) is (76c), while for (76b) it is (76d) (note that (76c) and (76d) are also identifying clauses): (76) c.

Nèi ge rén shì shéi that meas person be who “Who’s that person?” d. Zhˇuxí shì shéi chairman be who “Who’s the chairman?”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

The key to the identifying power of such clauses lies in the relationship between the two terms, which, as in English, is one of Token and Value: that is, one term is the recognizable outward form, the signifier, the other is the underlying function, the signified – but either can serve to supply the identity of the other. There are a number of other verbs which can construe this Token-Value relationship: e.g. biˇaodá “express”, tˇıxiàn “realize”, dàibiˇao “stand for”, zuòwéi “act as”; again as in English, these verbs map the Token on to the Subject. This type of clause has come into prominence with the evolution of scientific and technical forms of discourse; the typical mapping of functions is that of Token/Identified and Value/Identifier, as in a definition such as the following: (77) Jùfˇa de duìyìng shˇouxi¯an shì yóuyú hànzúrén duì syntax sub corollary first be owing-to Han people towards shìjiè jiàzhí pànduàn f¯angshì de gu¯ıdìng. world value judgement mode sub rule “The corollary of syntax is first of all the rules stemming from the Han people’s modes of value judgment towards the world.” However, sometimes the discourse requires the opposite mapping, and here we find the “passive” construction with bèi, formerly restricted to a small subset of material processes (see Section 6.5.1.3.1 below), being extended to this type of relational process: (78) Bˇeij¯ıng de chéngqiáng bèi rènwéi shì yˇouài xiàndài chéngshì Beijing sub city-wall pass consider be hinder modern city de f¯azhˇan. sub development “Beijing’s city wall was thought to hinder the development of the modern city.”

.... Relational extensions of other processes Relational processes regularly function as adjuncts to, or extensions of, processes of the other types. (a) Existentials and possessives function as presentatives for participants in a clause of any type (see Section 6.5.1.1.1 above): (79) a.

Yˇou rén lái. exist person come “Someone’s coming.” b. Wˇo yˇou wèntí xiˇang g¯en nˇı tí. I have question aux:want with you raise “I’ve got a question I’d like to raise with you.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(b) Circumstantial and identifying processes function as extensions to material processes. Compare the following simple relational clauses (80a, 81a) with their use as extensions to a material clause (80b, 81b): (80) a.

Xié zài ménwài. shoe be-at door outside “The shoes are outside the door.” b. Xié kˇeyˇı g¯e zai ménwài. shoe aux;can put be-at door outside “Shoes can be put outside the door.”

(81) a.

T¯a d¯ang xiàozhˇang. s/he act-as school head “He is the headmaster.” b. Zhˇıdìng t¯a d¯ang xiàozhˇang. appoint s/he act-as school head “Appoint him as headmaster.”

(c) Categorizing processes function in a similar way as descriptive extensions to verbal or mental processes; compare (82a) and (82b): (82) a.

T¯a shì hˇaorén. s/he be good person “He is a good person.” b. Rénrén d¯ou bˇa t¯a d¯ang wéi hˇaorén. person person all disp s/he regard be good person “Everyone regards him as a good person.”

(d) Ascriptives also function as resultative extensions, but here they take the form of completive phase – syntactically, an extension to the verbal group (see Section 6.5.2.2 below). They are thus open to potential form; compare (83a) with (83b) and (83c) below: (83) a.

Zhè dá zhˇı bù qí. this pile paper neg straight “This pile of paper’s not straight.” b. Kˇe bù kˇeyˇı dèn-qí? aux:can neg aux:can knock pv: straight “Can you knock it straight?” c. Nˇı dèn- deqí dèn- bùqí? you knock pos:pot pv: straight knock neg:pot pv: straight “Are you able to knock it straight?”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

From the standpoint of the relational process, types (b) and (c) above could be thought of as agentive relationals, where the agency is either material (Agent as Actor in a material process) or semiotic (Agent as Senser in a mental or Sayer in a verbal process). However, the relational expression cannot normally be marked for aspectual or other verbal categories, showing that it is the material, mental or verbal process (the first verb) that is actually functioning as the Process in the clause, the relational component in a associated process functioning as a circumstantial element (Location or Role). As was noted above, Zhou (1997) takes the opposite view, categorizing all such clauses with a relational verb as basically relational. Such an analysis needs to be understood in the context of her framework, derived from Fawcett (1987), in which many processes involving change of location or possession, such as jiè “borrow/lend”, here analysed as material, are classed as relational.

... Verbal and mental processes Verbal and mental processes share the property of projection, the ability to “project” another process through themselves either as a locution (symbolized “) or as an idea (‘); this projection can be either paratactic (quoting: 1 “2 or 1’2) or hypotactic (reporting: α “β or α β). See examples (84a, b), (85a, b) (Ouyang 1986): (84) a.

1 “2 Xiˇaomíng shu¯o “Wˇo míngti¯an bù qù xuéxiào”. Xiaoming say I tomorrow neg go school “Xiaoming said: “I won’t go to school tomorrow”.” b. α “β Xiˇaomíng shu¯o t¯a dièrti¯an bù qù xuéxiàˇo. Xiaoming say s/he second-day neg go school “Xiaoming said that he wouldn’t go to school the next day.”

α ‘β Xiˇaomíng xiˇang t¯a dièrti¯an bù qù xuéxiào. Xiaoming think s/he second-day neg go school “Xiaoming thought that he wouldn’t go to school the next day.” b. 1 ‘2 Xiˇaomíng x¯ınli xiˇang “wˇo míngti¯an bù qù xuéxiào.” Xiaoming mind-in think I tomorrow neg go school “Xiaoming thought to himself: “I won’t go to school tomorrow”.”

(85) a.

As in English, verbal projection favours parataxis (“quoted speech”, e.g. (84a)), and mental projection favours hypotaxis (“reported thought”, e.g. (85a)); “quoted thought” (85b) is, however, particularly marked. The distinction between quoting and reporting has no reflex in the categories of the verbal group (there is one mi-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

nor exception to this: the auxiliary yào in its future sense “will (would)” tends to be replaced by huì “may (might)” in reported contexts), but it is clearly construed in the deixis, by personal pronouns, demonstratives, and temporal adjuncts: compare (84a) with (84b) above, and (86a) with (86b) below: (86) a.

1 “2 T¯a shu¯o: Wˇo míngti¯an zài zhè ji¯ekˇou yào dˇeng nˇı s/he say I tomorrow at this corner aux:will wait you guò-lai. pass pv:come “She said: “I’ll wait at this corner tomorrow for you to come by”.” b. α “β T¯a shu¯o t¯a dìèrti¯an zài nà ji¯ekˇou huì dˇeng t¯a s/he say she second-day at that corner aux:may wait you guò-qu. pass pv:go “She said she’d wait the next day on that corner for him to go by”.”

.... Verbal processes The prototypical verb in verbal clauses is shu¯o “say”, which is used in general contexts: (87) Nˇı shu¯o shénme? you say what “What did you say?” Shu¯o projects quoted speech in all speech functions, and may be added to verbs in other process types to enable them to project: (88) 1 “2 T¯a xiào zhe shu¯o “Nˇı bié lái zhè tào”. s/he laugh asp:impf say you neg:imp come this set “She said laughing: “Don’t try that trick on me”.” In projecting reported speech, shu¯o reports statements (see (89a) below), in contrast to wèn “ask” for questions (89b); or else propositions, in contrast to jiào “tell, order” for proposals (89c): (89) a.

Wˇo shu¯o wˇo bù néng péi t¯a qù. I say I neg aux:can go-with s/he go “I said I couldn’t go with her.” b. T¯a wèn wˇo néng bù néng péi t¯a qù. s/he ask I aux:can neg aux:can go-with s/he go “She asked me whether I could go with her.”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

c.

T¯a jiào wˇo péi t¯a qù. s/he tell I go-with s/he go “She told me to go with her.”

The structure of the verbal clause is Sayer ^ Process (^ Receiver) (^ Verbiage), as in (90a), or Sayer ^ Process (^ Receiver) in nexus with a projected clause (90b): (90) a.

T¯a gàosu wˇo y¯ı jiàn shì. s/he tell I one meas matter “He told me something.” “β b. α T¯a méi gàosu wˇo t¯a yˇıj¯ıng yˇou shì. s/he neg:pf tell I s/he already have matter “He didn’t tell me he was already busy.”

With gàosu “tell”, jiào “tell”, and wèn “ask”, the Receiver is construed as a participant and immediately follows the Process, as in the above examples. With shu¯o “say”, however, the Receiver is construed circumstantially on the model of a circumstance of Direction or Accompaniment, (91a, b): (91)

a. T¯a duì wˇo shu¯o... s/he towards I say “She said to me . . . ”

b. T¯a g¯en wˇo shu¯o zh¯ongguóhuà s/he with I say Chinese “She spoke Chinese to me.”

The types of Verbiage are analogous to those in English, e.g. gùshi “story” in jiˇang gùshi “tell a story”, zh¯ongguóhuà “Chinese” in shu¯o zh¯ongguóhuà “speak Chinese”; including such generalized Verbiages as huáng “lies” in shu¯o huáng “tell lies” and kˇu “hardship, bitterness” in sù kˇu “vent bitterness”. Compare also the more abstract Verbiage in (92) below: (92)

Qˇıng nˇı xùshù qián jˇı ti¯an de j¯ıngyàn. please you recount before several day sub experience “Please recount your experiences of the past few days.”

Some verbal processes also accept a Target, e.g. guài “blame”, p¯ıpíng “criticize”, shu¯o “scold”, mà “curse”, realized as a participant immediately following the Process, e.g. (93a). Such clauses may also be accompanied by a projection, as in (93b): (93) a.

T¯amen d¯ou guài wˇo. s/he plur all blame I “They all blamed me.” b. T¯amen d¯ou guài wˇo méiyˇou yùliào. s/he plur all blame I neg:pf foresee “They all blamed me for not foreseeing it.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

Verbal processes can take completive phase, e.g. wèn-q¯ıngchu “ask + clear: clarify” shu¯o-míngbai “say + understand: explain”. Shu¯o in particular occurs in a large number of contexts in the negative potential form (see Section 6.4.3 above and Section 6.5.2.2 below): (94)

a. shu¯o - bù guòqù say neg:pot pv:pass “can’t wriggle out of it”

b. shu¯o - bù de say neg:pot pv:gain “shouldn’t mention it”

As in English, verbal processes shade into relationals of the identifying subtype. In such cases, the Sayer if not a human or conscious being tends to be construed as a Location: (95) Bàozhˇı shang shu¯o... paper on say “It says in the paper ...” There are numerous verbs such as biˇaoshì “indicate”, zhèngmíng “prove”, fˇoudìng “negate, deny” which can occur either with a personalized Sayer followed by a projection, or with a “fact” in a Token-Value relation: (96) a.

Bùzhˇang biˇaoshì, zhèngfˇu hái méiyˇou jiˇejué minister express government still neg:pf resolve zhèi ge wèntí. this meas problem “The minister said that the government still hadn’t resolved this problem.” b. Zhè zhˇı bùguò biˇaoshì dírén de x¯uruò éryˇı. this only merely express enemy sub weak that’s-all “This only indicates the enemy’s weakness.”

.... Mental processes Mental processes resemble verbal processes in that they project, but differ in that they do not accept a Receiver. The nuclear structure is Senser ^ Process (97a), either plus Phenomenon (97b) or in nexus with projected clause (97c). The Senser is always a conscious being: (97) a.

Nˇı bié hàipà. you neg:imp fear “Don’t be afraid.” b. Shéi bù ài zìyóü who neg love freedom “Who doesn’t love freedom?”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

c.

α ‘β T¯amen d¯ou rènwéi cáiyuán bù zúgòu. s/he pl all consider revenue source neg enough “They all think the financial resources are inadequate.”

The prototypical form of the mental Process is the “like” type (Halliday 1994: 112), that with Senser as Subject. There are four subtypes of mental process: cognitive (97c), affective (97a, b), desiderative (97d), and perceptive (97e): (97) d. Wˇo yào liˇang g¯en b¯ınggùn’r. I want two meas icestick “I want two iceblocks.” e. Wˇo t¯ıng le nˇımen de yìjiàn. I listen asp:pf. you pl sub opinion “I’ve listened to your opinions.” Of these only the affective includes some of the “please” type, with Phenomenon as Subject; e.g. xià “frighten” (defined in a standard dictionary as shˇı hàipà “make fear”) and qì “anger, vex, annoy” (similarly defined as shˇı rén f¯anù “make someone angry”). Such processes may be regarded as incorporating a feature of agency, as shown by the fact that they are compatible with the feature “dispositive”, realized by the coverb bˇa which marks the Medium in an effective clause (see Section 6.5.1.3.1 below) as given information; compare (98a) and (98b): (98) a.

Phenomenon/Agent Process Senser Y¯ı ge qíqiguàiguai de sh¯engy¯ın xià le wˇo one meas strangex2 sub noise frighten asp:pf I “A strange noise frightened me.” b. Phenomenon/Agent Senser Process Y¯ı ge qíqiguàiguai de sh¯engy¯ın bˇa wˇo xià le one meas strangex2 sub noise disp I frighten asp:pf “A strange noise gave me a fright.”

Extent y¯ı tiào. one jump Extent y¯ı tiào. one jump

In contrast, cognitive processes are normally construed with an analytic type of causative: (99) Agent Pro- Senser -cess Phenomenon Zhèi ge niàntou shˇı t¯a xiˇang-dào xˇudu¯o cóngqián de shì. this meas idea cause s/he think pv:reach many former sub matter “This idea made her think of many things in the past.” Mental processes of the affective and desiderative subtypes accept expressions of degree, such as f¯eicháng “extremely” in (100a) and zuì “most” in (100b) below:

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(100) a.

T¯a f¯eicháng bù mˇanyì. s/he extremely neg be-satisfied “He’s extremely dissatisfied.” b. Wˇo zuì x¯ıwàng t¯amen de jìhuà huì chéngg¯ong. I most hope they pl sub plan aux succeed “I particularly hope that their plan will succeed.”

In this they resemble ascriptive clauses, and there is in fact a type of affective which is structured as Process + Attribute: (101) Nˇı juéde sh¯ufu ma? you feel comfortable mod:int “Do you feel comfortable?” Mental processes are not usually marked for aspect, and never when functioning as a projecting clause; but they can take marked phasal categories, both directional (literal and metaphorical) and resultative. Only those of perception take directional phase in its literal sense, e.g. kàn-bù-dào “look + not + reach: can’t see as far as”; but non-literal usages are widespread across all subtypes, e.g. kàn-bù-qˇı “look+ not + rise: look down on”, rèn-ch¯u “recognize + come/go out: make out, recognize”, xiˇang-bù-dào “think + not + reach: never imagine”. Resultative phase is also common, with all types of mental process; e.g. qì-sˇı “vex + die: infuriate”, kàntòu “look + penetrate: see through”, xiˇang-hˇao “think + complete: decide”, yào-zˇou “want + depart: demand”.

... Material processes Perhaps the most distinctive characteristic of material processes in Chinese is that they may take the full range of time and voice categories: verbal and clausal aspect, directional and resultative phase, and dispositive and passive voice. Not all subtypes can take all of these, of course, but there is usually an explanation to be sought when they cannot. The basic distinction within material processes is into those with one nuclear participant and those with two: the intransitive and the transitive. The intransitive have Actor + Process, the transitive Actor + Process + Goal. There is also a subcategory of transitive, the ditransitive, which have a third (non-nuclear) participant, the Beneficiary. .... Transitive material processes With transitive material processes, the unmarked order of elements is Actor ^ Process ^ Goal: (102) T¯a mài sh¯u. s/he sell book “He sells books.”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(103) Wˇo zhu¯ang-pò le píb¯ao. I pack pv:break asp:pf suitcase “I broke my case (with packing it).” Given the textual organization of the clause, this makes the Actor the Theme and the Goal the focus of the New (cf. Section 6.3.2 above). With a ditransitive, the order is Actor ^ Process ^ Beneficiary ^ Goal, where again Actor and Goal are textually prominent: (104) T¯a gˇei wˇo s¯an kuài qián. s/he give I three dollar money “He gave me three dollars.” Textual variation in the thematic and informational structure is introduced by the system of voice, which has the three terms neutral, passive and dispositive. Dispositive voice is realized by the construction with bˇa, introduced in Section 6.3.1 above. Passive voice will be discussed in the context of thematic variation below. (a) Thematic variation. As in English, the Goal can be preposed as a marked Theme, which has the predicted prosody of contrast: (102) b. Sh¯u t¯a bù mài (bàozhˇı mài). book s/he neg sell newspaper sell “Books he doesn’t sell (he does newpapers).” This form is still in neutral voice. There is also a set of identifying variants using the verb shì “be” and the subordinating/nominalizing particle de, where either Goal or Actor, plus or minus the Process, is preposed to the shì and functions as Theme; what follows shì functions as New: (102) c.

Goal Actor Process Sh¯u shì t¯a mài de. book be s/he sell sub “Books are what he sells.” or “The books were sold by him.” d. Actor Process Goal T¯a mài de shì sh¯u. s/he sell sub be book “What he sells are books.” e. Process Goal Actor Mài sh¯u de shì t¯a. sell book sub be s/he “The one who sells books is him.”

Halliday (1956) regarded these identifying variants as types of passive voice. Here however we shall consider them as textually motivated variants within the defini-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

tion of neutral voice, and restrict the passive to forms more usually considered as passive in recent grammars of Chinese. Example (102f) shows how the Goal is retained as unmarked Theme by the use of the passive voice as defined in this more restricted sense: (102) f.

Sh¯u gˇei t¯a mài (-wán) le. book pass s/he sell pv:finish asp: pf “The books were sold (out) by him.”

The Chinese passive as exemplified here resembles that in English but differs from it in three respects. (i) The form of the verb does not change. (ii) The agentive expression, which as in English is a circumstantial element, precedes the Process. (iii) The passive form is semantically loaded: it carries a feature of “undesirable”, so is associated with actions like stealing, beating, killing etc. The prototypical form is agentive, the Agent commonly being a general noun like rén “people, someone”; unlike the English agentive, the focus is on the Process, not on the Agent: (105) a.

T¯a de sh¯u gˇei rén t¯ou le. s/he sub book pass person steal asp: pf “His books were stolen by someone.”

(106) T¯amen gˇei dírén qi¯angsh¯a. s/he pl pass enemy gun kill “They were shot dead by the enemy.” We also find clauses such as (102g) below, which has no Agent and so will not be regarded in this account as passive, even though in a transitive analysis we might still interpret sh¯u “book” as Goal: (102) g. Sh¯u mài le. book sell asp: pf “The books have (been) sold.” However, there is also a variant with the passive marker immediately preceding the Process, which clearly marks the clause as agentive even though no Agent is present (cf. the English agentless passive, shown as passive by the form of the verb): (105) b. T¯a de sh¯u gˇei t¯ou le. s/he sub book pass steal asp: pf “His books were stolen.” In contemporary Chinese written registers, this agentive passive, normally marked by the formal bèi rather than the colloquial gˇei, and both with and without an explicit Agent, has been extended into appraisally neutral forms:

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(107) T¯a bèi xuˇan wéi zhˇuxí. s/he pass select be chairman “He was elected chairman.” This is particularly noticeable in scientific and technical Chinese, where the discourse frequently demands a passive construction (Halliday & Martin 1993). (b) Informational variation. We have referred above (Section 6.3) to the dispositive construction, marked by the coverb bˇa (originally a full verb “grasp”); this was first referred to as “ergative” by Frei (1956), and treated by Halliday (1956) as a term in the voice system. This is a structure whereby in a transitive material clause the Process gains unmarked information focus by being located at the end of the clause – the term “dispositive” reflects the name chˇuzhì shì given to it by Chinese grammarians; see Wang (1944). (In Chinese as in English the Process can have focus assigned to it by prosodic means (tonic prominence); but that introduces a contrastive feature which is absent from the dispositive construction.) The dispositive voice is particularly favoured where (a) the Goal is Given, and (b) the Process is extended by completive or non-completive phase, often also accompanied by perfective aspect. This is because a Process that is marked for phase and aspect in this way is inherently likely to be under focus of attention: (108) Qˇıng nˇı bˇa wˇan kuài g¯e-hui yuánlái de dìfang. please you disp bowl chopstick put pv:back original sub place “Please put the bowls and chopsticks back where they came from.” (109) Cháyè bˇa shuˇıguˇan s¯ai-zhù le. tea leaf disp water pipe block pv:fast asp: pf “The tea leaves have blocked the pipe.” This in turn is the syntactic explanation for what is apparent also as a phonological principle: the fact that a verbal group following the bˇa phrase must have at least two syllables in it. For the same reason, the dispositive voice is not found with Process + Goal combinations where there is strong mutual presupposition between the two, so that the Process is unlikely to be detached from the Goal as something New, e.g. cˇaiqˇu tàidu “adopt an attitude”: there is no agnate form bˇa tàidu cˇaiqˇu – the only thing you can do with attitudes is adopt them. Likewise it is also not found with Process + Range combinations (see next section). Until recently, the bˇa construction was largely restricted to material clauses, and to a few verbal and mental clauses marked for completive phase: (110) T¯a bˇa zhèi ge wèntí shu¯o-q¯ıngchu le. s/he disp this meas question say pv:clear asp: pf “He explained this problem.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

Now, particularly in written registers (cf. above on a similar extension of the passive), it is sometimes extended to processes of other types, thus weakening still further the original concrete sense of bˇa as a lexical verb.

.... Intransitive material processes Intransitive material processes have one participant, possibly accompanied by a Range element. The types of Range in Chinese are comparable to those in English: (111)

a. zhù s¯an ti¯an stay three day “stay three days”

b. xià ge mìngling issue meas order “give an order”

Some ranged processes are formed by tightly-bonded verb + noun compounds like (111c–f); in some cases, the second element is more Goal-like, as in (111f), but in either case they function semantically as generalized processes: (111)

c. zˇou lù walk road “walk” e. niàn sh¯u read book “study”

d. xˇı zˇao wash bath “bath” f. ch¯ı fàn eat rice “eat”

The Range can always be detached to function as Theme: (112) Zhè lù bù hˇao zˇou. this road neg good walk “This road is not easy to walk on.” (113) Zˇao xˇı-hˇao le meiyou? bath wash pv:complete asp: pf neg: pf “Have you had your bath yet?” As mentioned above, some one-participant processes might be interpreted as passives, where the participant could be interpreted as a Goal and there would be an agnate form with bˇa: (114) a.

Nˇı de xìn jì-qu le. you sub letter send pv: go asp: pf “Your letter’s been sent off.” b. Yˇou rén bˇa nˇı de xìn jì-qu le. exist person disp you sub letter send pv: go asp: pf “Someone’s sent your letter off.”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

In transitive terms, it is often hard to say whether the single participant is Actor or Goal; in ergative terms, however (see Section 6.5.1.4 below), it is always the Medium. For example: (115) Ch¯e k¯ai-zˇou le. vehicle drive pv: depart asp: pf “The car has (been) driven away.” Included in the category of intransitive material processes, we could identify a subset which might be regarded on semantic grounds as behavioural, e.g. k¯u “cry”, kˇaolü` “ponder”. However, these are not syntactically distinct from other intransitives; they can take Range elements and, although they more commonly occur without temporal marking, this does not amount to a categorical distinction.

... A note on the system of agency Various comments have been made in previous sections on the feature of agency in the clause in Chinese. As will be obvious from this discussion, agency as a systemic option in Chinese is largely confined to material clauses; we have classified these as either intransitive or transitive, but they could also be interpreted in ergative terms (Halliday 1994: Section 5.8) as either middle (with Medium, ± Range) or effective (with Medium + Agent). The latter would then include the dispositive bˇa construction, which as we noted occurs prototypically only in material clauses. Long (1981) recognizes two kinds of transitive material process, Actor + Goal and Agent + Affected (Agent + Medium in the terms of Halliday 1994); Zhou (1997) extends a similar feature of agency to relational processes, but as noted above her “relational” category includes some processes that would here be classified as material; while McDonald (1998) has the feature middle/effective dependent on the prior choice of material process. There are, however, three major exceptions to the generalization whereby agency is restricted to material clauses. (a) A small set of affective mental process (noted as the “please” type in Section 6.5.1.2.2 above) are basically effective, e.g. qì “anger, vex”, fán “annoy”, xià “frighten”. (b) An equally small set of ascriptive relational processes have effective uses (remnants of a much more widespread syntactic phenomenon in classical Chinese), e.g. rè “hot; to heat”, tàng “boiling hot; to heat up, scald”. (c) In contrast to the preceding, both of which are restricted to a few lexical items, a much more widespread grammatical phenomenon is the fact that many verbal and mental processes may take on an effective use when marked for phase (see Section 6.5.2.2 below), e.g. bó-dˇao “contradict + overturn: refute”, jiˇang-q¯ıngchu “say + clear: clarify”, kàn-tòu “look + penetrate: see through”, yào-zˇou “want + depart: demand” (cf. McDonald 1994). This is undoubtedly the reason for earlier categorizations of resultative phase as “causative” (e.g. Wang 1944). How-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

ever, the semantic scope of phase in Chinese, despite the many forms that could be analysed as causative, is actually much wider; most instances of completive phase are not causative, but indicate that the process has been successfully concluded, more like temporal or conative phase in English (McDonald 1994).

... A note on circumstances The system of process type defines the experiential clause nucleus, consisting of the Process and the participant roles associated with it. The remaining elements that go to make up the transitivity structure are the circumstances. There are of course constraints on the combining of circumstance with process type, but they are probabilistic rather than categorical; here we shall treat circumstance type as an independent, simultaneous system. The default position for a circumstantial element is immediately preceding the Process; all such elements can however be thematized. The main variable is whether or not the circumstance involves an indirect participant; secondarily, if it does, whether that participant is, or may be, characterized in terms of its facet. We can thus identify three primary types of circumstance according to this principle: (1a) + participant, with facet (1b) + participant, without facet (2)

– participant

phrase [coverb + (nom. gp. with/without postnoun)] or nom. gp. with postnoun phrase [coverb + (nom. gp. without post noun)] adv. gp. or nom. gp. with measure noun as Head

The principal categories of circumstance deriving from these three types are as follows: (1a) place/time (location) x rest/motion abstract space (angle, matter) exclusion/inclusion (1b) comparison means (instrument) accompaniment source behalf (sake) (2) manner (quality) deictic time/place In a coverbal phrase, the coverb functions as “minor Process”. It is a subclass of the lexical verb; Chao (1968: 754–767) lists 57 members, almost all of which can function as a (major) Process. Coverbs cannot select in the aspect system (some

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

coverbs are inherently marked for aspect), or take completive phase; but in other respects the coverbal phrase is very like a clause, with the nominal group taking on various clause-like functions, e.g. as in relational processes. There are four coverbs, zài “be at”, gˇei “be for/to”, dào “go to/reach”, xiàng “go towards”, such that the phrase in which they occur can follow the process: g¯e zài guìtái-shang “put on the counter”, dì gˇei wˇo “hand to me”. Because of their position these constructions are sometimes treated as a special kind of phase; but these verbs are not postverbs and cannot take potential particles bu, de. Rather, such coverbal phrases are circumstances that express the outcome of the process and hence follow it; cf. their English equivalents following put, give. Two semantic domains that can be construed circumstantially, though usually they are not, are (i) cause (reason, purpose) and (ii) extent in space in time. Cause is typically construed as a clause nexus: (116) y¯ınwèi c¯angy¯ıng tài du¯o, suˇoyˇı wˇomen jiù because fly too many so we then b¯an-jinlai le move pv:enter come asp “We’ve moved indoors because of all the flies.” Extent in space, and duration and frequency in time, are typically realized as a nominal group, often with measure noun as Head (or as Measure). These expressions come after the Process, being construed as participant (Range) rather than as circumstance: (117) a.

Qù-guo s¯an cì. go asp three time “I’ve been three times.” b. Zˇou le sìshí du¯o lˇı sh¯anjìng. walk asp forty many mile mountain path “We walked more than forty miles of mountain paths.”

... Alternative taxonomies As noted above, there have been several alternative descriptions of transitivity in Chinese suggested, differing especially in regard to the number and types of processes. McDonald (1992) put forward a three-way system of “action/state/relation”: this makes contact with the classification of verbs in Chinese by grammarians both in China and abroad (e.g. Wang 1944; Chao 1948; Teng 1975) and is well-suited for a grammar designed for teaching Chinese to foreigners (the opposition of action/state, or active/stative, is a familiar “first cut” based on the distinction between “verb” and “adjective” in Western grammatical theory). The earlier classification

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

in Long (1981) had maintained the distinction between “ascriptive” (stative) and “relational”, but recognized mental and verbal as distinct (primary) process types apart from material (in McDonald 1992 “material”, “mental” and “verbal” were subtypes of “action”), each showing a characteristic pattern of participant roles. Zhou (1997) recognized the four basic types of material, relational, mental and verbal; but she broadened the coverage of relational to include a large number of material processes with a relational or ascriptive extension (see Section 6.5.1.1.4 above). McDonald (1998) separated out mental and verbal from material, but maintained the distinction between “relational” (two-participant processes) and “ascriptive” (one participant processes). The basic issues that come up in the classification of process types in Chinese may be summarized as follows. Firstly, there is the relationship between the system of transitivity on the one hand and the systems of aspect and phase on the other. A verbal group marked for phase often exhibits a combination of two process types, commonly one of the “action” type as Event (realized by the main verb) and one of the “state” type as Extension (realized by a postverb): this is one of the reasons why McDonald (1992) makes the cut in this way. The question then arises, to which process type should the verbal group as a whole be assigned. Zhou (1997), following a respectable tradition in Chinese linguistics according to which the second verb (postverb) is analysed as the “centre” (cf. Cartier 1972), classifies the whole verbal group according to the process type of the second verb, normally relational in her framework. McDonald (1994, 1996) takes the process type of the first verb as criterial, noting that the transitivity structure of the whole clause is basically determined by the first verb, and that examples of changes in transitivity due to the adding of a postverb are, relatively speaking, rather rare. Long (1981) takes an inbetween position, analysing such examples as “complex processes” with “double participants”, an analysis which however is difficult to sustain with many types of postverb to which it is hard to assign a distinct participant. It is also possible to analyse material processes of “coming into being” which are marked for perfective or durative aspect (see Section 6.5.2.1.1 below) as relational, on the grounds that semantically they represent a state not an action. Such clause types often also exhibit a thematic structure more like that of relational than material clauses. A related point is the scope of the relational process type. On this issue, McDonald (1998) probably takes the most conservative position, separating out “ascriptive” from “relational” and maintaining that phase or aspect do not affect the basic process type of the clause. Zhou (1997) takes the most radical position, not recognizing a separate “ascriptive” type and assimilating a large number of what McDonald would analyse as phase-marked material processes to the relationals. The interpretation presented in this chapter falls somewhere in between; we have treated the ascriptive as a subtype of relational (cf. also Winestock 1998), but also

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

recognized as relational a number of clause types which have material agnates but exhibit relational-like participant roles and thematic structures.

.. Temporal categories Chinese contains two major systems for construing the unfolding of the process through time: aspect and phase. As is characteristic of languages towards the eastern end of the Eurasian cultural continuum, time in Chinese is grammaticized as aspect rather than as tense: that is, the basic variable is not whether the process is construed as past, present or future relative to the time of speaking or other reference point, but rather whether the process is construed as imperfective or perfective relative to the context. The latter perspective takes innumerable subtly different forms in different languages; even within the Chinese dialects there is quite significant variation: in Cantonese, for example, verbal aspect is more clearly distinct from clausal aspect than it is in Mandarin, but at the same time clausal aspect is less clearly distinct from mood. As well as aspect, Mandarin also has a highly elaborate system of phase, whereby a process may be marked as completive in the form of a verbal group structured as Event + Extension. The class of postverb functioning as Extension, while in principle closed, is in fact a very large class covering a broad semantic range; the primary distinction is that into “directional” and “resultative” terms, but within the latter category each particular postverb colligates with a distinct and rather clearly defined set of lexical verbs. Here we can give only a very general sketch of the richness of the phase system.

... The system of aspect There are actually two separate aspect systems in Mandarin, but they merge at one point. The first is verbal aspect, marked by a particle, or a coverb, attached to the verbal group; the second is clausal aspect, marked, like mood, by a particle in clause final position. .... Verbal aspect Verbal aspect has one unmarked (neutral) term and two marked terms, each with two further subcategories: (i) perfective, including (a) perfective proper and (b) experiential; (ii) imperfective, including (a) durative and (b) progressive. All except for (i.a) are restricted to certain subtypes of material and relational processes. The marked terms, if positive, are realized either by particles following the verbal group or, in the case of the progressive, by a coverb; the particles all originated as completive postverbs. Negatives are formed with the particles bù or méi. Note that while these categories are systemic, they do not yield paradigms in the traditional sense; it is hard to find verbs that would occur nat-

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

urally with all possible aspects. The negative of the durative aspect is particularly restricted. Verbal aspect is set out in Table 6.13.

.... Clausal aspect Clausal aspect has one unmarked (neutral) term, and two marked, perfective and imperfective. The perfective is realized by the clausal particle le. This is phonetically identical to the perfective verbal clitic le, which evolved from the completive postverb liˇao “complete”; the clausal particle may have a different origin – Norman (1988) suggests that it evolved from the verb lái “come” as an interpersonal marker of speech function. These two perfectives differ somewhat in meaning. The verbal perfective means something like “process significant not in itself but in its interfacing with its context: typically with the present situation or with the situation (state or further process) by which it is followed or in which it results”. This means that it often occurs in the first (dependent) clause of a hypotactic clause complex: examples (118) and (119). (118) Wˇo dˇeng le bànti¯an, nˇı hái méi lái. I wait asp:pf half day you still neg:pf come “I waited for ages and you still didn’t come.” (119) K¯ai le zhˇengti¯an ch¯e, nˇı lèi bù lèi drive asp:pf whole day vehicle you tired neg: pot tired “Are you tired after driving for a whole day?” The clausal perfective, on the other hand, means “and that’s it, that’s where the matter ends”: (120) T¯a yˇıj¯ıng dˇa-dìng zhˇuyì le. s/he already make pv:certain idea asp:pf “He’s already made up his mind.” (121) Lˇao f¯ufù b¯an-jin y¯ıyuàn qu le. old couple move pv:enter hospital go asp:pf “The old couple has moved into the hospital.” The negative of the clausal perfective is bù ... le “no longer, no more”: (122) T¯a bù zài huí ji¯axi¯ang le. s/he neg further return hometown asp:pf “She will no longer return to her home town.” If the verbal group is the final element in the clause, of course, the two perfective types are indistinguishable in form. Here either interpretation is possible; compare (123a) and (123b):

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

Table 6.13 Verbal aspect ASPECT TYPE

POLARITY positive neutral pˇao run “runs” perfective perfective proper pˇao le run asp:pf “has run (away)” experiential pˇao guo run asp:exp “has (once) run” imperfective durative pˇao zhe run asp:dur “is (in the state of) running” progressive

(zhèng) zài pˇao (just) asp:prog. run “is (currently) running”

negative bù pˇao neg run “doesn’t run” méi pˇao neg:pf run “hasn’t (yet) run (away)” méi pˇao guo neg:pf run asp:exp. “has (never) run” (méi pˇao zhe neg:pf run asp:dur “is not running”) [rare] bù zài pˇao neg asp:prog. run “is not running”

(123) a.

G¯ongkè zuò-wán le, nˇı kˇeyˇı ch¯u-qu. homework do pv:finish asp:pf you aux:can exit pv:go “When your homework’s finished, you can go out.” b. G¯ongkè zˇaojiù zuò-wán le. homework early then do pv:finish asp:pf “My homework was finished long since.”

Both types of perfective may appear in the same clause: (124) T¯amen yˇıj¯ıng ch¯ı-wán le wˇufàn le. s/he pl already eat pv:finish asp:pf lunch asp:pf “They have already finished their lunch.” The clausal imperfective is realized by the clausal particle ne (Chao 1968: 802 glosses it as “continued state”). This often co-occurs with the verbal adverb hái “still” and/or the verbal imperfective particle zhe (cf. example (45) above) (125): (125) hái shu¯o zhe huà ne. still talk asp:impf speech asp:impf “They’re still talking.”

... The system of phase As mentioned in Section 6.3.2 above, it is a general feature of Chinese that most grammatical systems, apart from the basic ones like theme, mood and transitivity, are “elective”: that is, they contain an “opting out” term that is formally

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

unmarked and semantically neutral.4 Thus processes unmarked for aspect are aspectually neutral. But the nature of the marked term gives an indication of the kind of temporality that is inherent in the construal of experience in Chinese: particularly with material processes, it is processual rather than culminative. In other words, an unmarked process construes the process itself rather than its culmination. Whereas English processes are “reussive” – that is, they assume success and mark the phase of attempt – Chinese processes are “conative”: in other words, they assume attempt and mark the phase of success (see Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: 307). The system of phase comprises two terms, neutral and completive. Completive phase divides into two subtypes, directional and resultative; both types are realized by the addition of a postverb. The directional subtype contains two classes of postverb, vectorial (ascend/descend, enter/exit, cross, return, rise) and orientational (come/go, i.e. towards/away from the speaker). They are used for both concrete and abstract space; they may be combined, and may be followed by a nominal group specifying location: (126) zˇou-jin w¯u li (lai) walk pv:enter room in come “walk into the room (come walking into the room)” (127) pá -shang sh¯an (qu) climb pv:ascend mountain go “climb up the mountain (go climbing up the mountain)” There are two common combinations which occur in non-literal senses: qilai “rise + come: start, bring up” and xiaqu “descend + go: continue”: (128) Yˇou ge wèntí xiˇang g¯en nˇı tí- qilai. exist meas question aux:want with you raise pv:rise come “There’s a problem I want to bring up with you.” (129) Ti¯an qíng- qilai le. sky clear pv:rise come asp:perf “The sky is starting to clear.” (130) Wˇo y¯ızhí hái pàng-xiaqu. I straight still fat pv: fall go “I keep going on getting fatter.” Resultative postverbs, by contrast, form a rather large set (Chao 1968: 444–446 lists 155), each typically combining with a particular subclass of verbs. McDonald (1994) defines a number of lexical classes of verbs and postverbs based on textual data; the six classes of postverb are: qualitative, e.g. xˇı-g¯anjing “wash clean”; mental, e.g. kàn-jian “look + perceive: see”; change of state, e.g. dˇa-pò “hit + broken:

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

break”; directional, e.g. r¯eng-diào “throw + separate: throw away”; phasal, e.g. zhˇaozháo “seek + succeed: find”; exhaustive, e.g. mài-gu¯ang “sell bare: sell out”. What they have in common is the sense of bringing the process to a successful conclusion; this appears clearly in their interaction with polarity in the special “potential form” mentioned above (Section 6.3.1.1), which gives three terms: positive “does”, negative “can’t do” and marked positive “can do (after all)”, as illustrated in the dialogue in (131): (131) a.

Mˇai-dào le méiyˇou buy pv:reach asp:pf neg:pf “Did you buy it?” b. Méiyˇou, mˇai-bù-dào. neg:pf buy neg:pot pv:reach “No, I couldn’t.” c. Y¯ıngg¯ai mˇai-de-dào a! aux:should buy pos:pot pv:reach mod:excl “You should be able to!”

The interesting question about phasal constructions is what goes with what: what (especially resultative) postverb can combine with what mainverb as Event. As McDonald (1996: 279) points out this is surprisingly little explored, given the amount of attention paid to this feature in recent years; phased structures are described syntactically and then glossed one by one, rather than being treated as systemic. But the reason they are interesting is also the reason they are difficult: phasal relations are semi-grammaticized – they occupy the middle ground in the lexicogrammatical continuum, like prepositions and postverbal (phrasal) adverbs in English. They can be approached from the lexical end, as collocations between semantically motivated lexical sets; or they can be approached from the grammatical end and systemicized; but both enterprises really require a corpus of informal, spontaneous spoken Chinese, such as does not yet exist. The accepted criterion for completive phase (McDonald 1996: 277) is that the form in question enters the system of potentiality: e.g. g¯ezhù/g¯ebùzhù/g¯edezhù ‘sticks/won’t stick/will stick’. The basic distinction into directionals and resultatives is clearly given syntactically, and the directionals are reasonably well described, including the “non-literal directionals” (e.g. in Chao 1968: Section 6.6.7). As noted above, McDonald (1994: 337–342) proposes to classify the (much more recalcitrant) resultatives into two major types, extension (of action to state) vs. progression (within action); the former includes the four types qualitative, positional (his “directional”), mental, and conclusive (his “change of state”); the latter including the two types reussive (his “phasal”) and exhaustive. We include these six types in our system network below.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

The phase system is a good point at which to end this brief account, because it is a distinctive characterological feature of discourse in modern Chinese. It is a feature of all Chinese dialects, but with variation not only in the lexemes used as completives (this is true of verbs in general: verb lexemes tend to vary considerably from one dialect to another, whereas nouns usually remain constant across the whole spectrum of Chinese) but also in the system itself: there are completives in Cantonese which have no equivalent in Mandarin, and vice versa. As in other languages, the “commonsense” grammar of Chinese is an interplay of happenings and things. Things are elaborated in nominal groups, much as they are in English except that in Chinese all modifiers precede the head. Happenings are elaborated, first in relation to space-time (aspect and phase), and secondly in relation to each other. We can perhaps recognize seven degrees in the relationship of happenings to their experiential environment. (i) The system of phase locates the happening in semi-grammaticized space (directional) or time (resultative), including abstract space, using this resource to “thicken” the process with a vector of potentiality, by unpacking the Process into Event + Extension. Here the happening is being as it were deconstructed into two successive moments. There is also a less grammaticized type of phase construction, in which verbs such as k¯aish¦H “begin” and j¡Hxù “continue” express the temporal phase or facet of the process much as do their counterparts in English, likewise preceding the Event to which they relate: j¡Hxù k¯ai ch¯e “went on driving the car”. More critical for the discursive construal of experience is that one happening may be related to another. This is achieved in Chinese through a variety of structures which are often referred to as “serial verb constructions”; this however suggests no more than that the happenings may be grammatically related; such constructions are in fact highly organized in structural terms, but with varying degrees of interdependence. (ii) The happenings may be related as minor to major Process, where the minor Process is a circumstantial element as described in Section 6.5.1.5 above. (iii) The Process may be followed by a descriptive Attribute, the Process being as it were deactivated by nominalization: k¯ai-de hˇen kuài “driving was very fast”. The Process may be repeated, k¯ai ch¯e k¯ai-de hˇen kuài “drove the car, driving was very fast”. Note that this structure is not two clauses; the repetition of the verb is a “reprise”, in which the verb stands as a pro-form for itself. (iv) The major Process is followed by a minor Process, the latter signifying the outcome: k¯ai ch¯e dào shìchˇang qu “drove the car to the market”. There is a discontinuous postverb at the end of the clause, and again the Process may be repeated: k¯ai ch¯e k¯ai dào shìchˇang qu “drove the car, drove to the market”.

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(v) Patterns (iii) and (i) above may be combined: k¯ai-de neme kuài k¯ai-cuò le lù “driving was so fast, drove the wrong way”. Here again the Process may be repeated, sometimes twice over: k¯ai ch¯e k¯ai-de neme kuài k¯ai-cuò le lù “drove car, driving so fast, drove the wrong way”. Here we should probably recognize two clauses, in a paratactic relation of enhancement. (vi) There may be two happenings, one of which is explicitly presented as resulting from the other: k¯ai ch¯e k¯ai-de wˇomen d¯ou gˇan-bù-shàng “(drove car) driving to such an extent that none of us could catch up”. Here there are clearly two prointransitive

RANGE

material VOICE

transitive

affective

PROCESS TYPE verbal

desiderative perceptive

+ degree – degree

+Phenomenon : idea : locution +Verbiage

quote report

+Receiver +Target neutral

existing eventuating

existential

relational

attributive

identifying

clause

CLAUSAL ASPECT VERBAL

neutral* dispositive passive ‘like’ type* ‘please’ type

cognitive

mental

+Range –Range

neutral marked marked neutral

Figure 6.3 Experiential clause systems in Chinese

meteorological circumstantial possessive ascriptive categorizing

motion position relation

active passive

perfective imperfective

perfective proper experiential durative progressive

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

location +participant, faceted

abstract space “clusion”

CIRCUMSTANCE TYPE

place time rest motion angle

matter exclusion inclusion

comparison means +participant, nonfaceted

accompaniment source behalf

–participant

manner deictic location

neutral PHASE

directional completive

resultative

deictic place deictic time vectorial orientational abstract (“non-literal”) qualitative positional extension mental conclusive reussive progression exhaustive

Figure 6.3 (continued)

cesses; the second is an enhancing clause of result, and the verb is frequently in resultative phase. We could also have kuài -de wˇomen d¯ou gˇan-bù-shàng “so fast that none of us could catch up”. (vii) The two happenings may be related in the form of a clause complex. This may be unmarked and paratactic: ch¯e k¯ai-de neme kuài wˇomen d¯ou gˇan-bùshàng “car was driving so fast, none of us could catch up”; or with the second clause marked, suˇoyˇı “so ...”. Or it could be hypotactic: y¯ınwèi ch¯e k¯ai-de neme kuài wˇomen jiù d¯ou gˇan-bù-shàng “because car driving so fast, so none of us could catch up”. The hypotactic sequence in the clause complex in Chinese is regularly β ^ α (dependant before dominant). This range of patterns constitutes a rich resource for the grammaticizing of the relationship of one happening to another. Figure 6.3 is a system network for experiential systems.

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

.. Text illustrating experiential structures Text 5: From “A sketch of machine translation” by Liu Yongquan et al. (1) cadv

vadv Proc: ex Existent neg Process: Attr categ liˇang zhˇong bù shì bànfˇa de jiˇejué bànfˇa too kind not be means sub solve means

Lìngwài hái yˇou in also exist addition “In addition there are two solutions which are non-solutions:” (2)

Actor Process: mat Range (1) Du¯oyìcí bù jìnxíng f¯enxì, polysemous word not carry out analysis “(1) Leave polysemous words unanalysed,”

(3)

Time Process: mat Goal Tóngshí sh¯uch¯u jˇı zhˇong yìwén, at the same time output several kind translation “output several translations at the same time,”

(4)

Actor Place (abstract) yóu dúzhˇe huò “yˇı-hòu bi¯anjí ” cóng zhè jˇı zhˇong yìwén- zh¯ong let reader or translate- edit from this several kind transl- middle after ation Means

[Ac.] Process: Goal mat [[Attr. ]] g¯enjù shàngxiàwén zìjˇı xuˇanzé y¯ı zhˇong zùi qiàd¯ang de yìwén. acc. to context self choose one kind most appropr- sub transliate ation “let the reader or “post-editor” choose for themselves from these translations the one that is most appropriate according to the context.” (5)

Actor hcon Provadv -cess Goal Zhè zhˇong bànfˇa su¯ırán bù néng chèdˇı jiˇejué wèntí, this kind means although neg can thouroughly solve problem “Although this method cannot solve the problem entirely,”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(6)

pcon Place (abstract)

vadv Process: Attr. poss dànshì zài mˇou xi¯e chˇanghé-xià yˇe yˇou y¯ıdìng yòngchu. but be-at certain sever- situation- also have certain usefulness al under “under some circumstances it has a certain usefulness.”

(7)

Proc: mat (2) Bˇa mˇou xi¯e gèbié yìyì de yòngfˇa zuò cízˇu cúnchˇu, disp certain several particu- meaning sub use make word- store lar group “(2) Store some particular usages as phrases,”

(8)

hcon Process: mat Goal yˇı jiˇanshˇao cíyì huò du¯oyìcí de shùliàng. so as to reduce word or polysemous sub quantity meaning word “to reduce the number of word meanings or polysemous words.”

(9)

Place (deictic) Process: verbal Time Zhèlˇı bù dé bù tí y¯ı xià, here neg can neg raise one time “Here we must comment,”

Goal

Role

(10)

Means Process: mat g¯enjù zhè zhˇong f¯angfˇa xíngshì, according to this kind method handle thing “that if one handles matters according to this method,”

(11)

Angle Proces: percep cóng biˇaomiàn-shàng lái kàn, from surface-top come look “[although] from a superficial point of view,”

(12)

hcon Goal/Medium Process: mat su¯ırán du¯oyìcí de shùliàng kˇenéng jiˇanshˇao xi¯e, although polysemous word sub quantity possibly reduce a little “the number of polysemous words may be slightly reduced,”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(13)

pcon Carrier Process/ Attr: ascr dànshì cízˇu de fànwéi kuòdà le. but wordgroup sub scope enlarge asp:pf “the scope of the phrases will be enlarged.”

(14)

Angle Process: verbal Cóng jiéshˇeng cúnchˇu d¯anyuán hé ji¯ag¯ong shíji¯an-shàng lái shu¯o, from save store unit and process time-top come say “As far as saving storage units and processing time is concerned,”

(15)

Carrier Comparison Process: circ Attribute qíngkuàng y¯ırán rú gù, situation likewise be-like old “the situation is still the same as before,”

(16)

Process: exist Existent méiyˇou shénme bˇenzhì-shàng de biànhuà. neg exist any essential-top sub change “there has been no essential change.”

Text 6: Tommy’s composition A narrative about a boy writing a composition and desparately trying to reach the required word count. (1) Actor Asp:prg Y¯ı ge [[jiào T¯angmˇı]]de nánhái zài one meas be-called Tommy sub male-child asp:prog Proc: mat. Range jìnxíng ta de zuòwén kˇaoshì, undergo s/he sub comp. exam “A boy called Tommy was doing his composition exam,” (2) Value Proc: id. Token tímù shì: wˇo de gˇou. topic be I sub dog “the topic was: my dog.” (3)

Proc: mat. Range Zhìshˇao yào xiˇe 150 zì. at-least must write 150 word “(He) had to write at least 150 words.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(4) Senser Proc: ment. Aspect Range: proc. T¯angmˇı xiˇang le xiang, Tommy think asp:perf think “Tommy thought a bit,” (5) Phase: temp. Proc: mat. k¯aishˇı xiˇe: begin write “(and) began writing:” (6) Possessor Proc: pos. Possessed “Wˇo yˇou y¯ı tiáo gˇou, I possess one meas dog “I have a dog,” (7) Attributor Proc: clas. Carrier Attribute wˇo jiào t¯a Bˇaobˇı, I call it Bobby “I call it Bobby,” (8) Senser Proc:ment. Phenomenon wˇo ài wˇo de gˇou, I love I sub dog “I love my dog,” (9) Carrier Proc:cat. Attribute t¯a quánsh¯en d¯ou shì h¯eisè de, it whole-body all be black-colour sub “it”s black all over,” (10)

Carrier Proc:cat. Attribute zhˇı yˇou bízi shì bái de.” only exist nose be white sub “except for (its) nose (which) is white.” “

(11)

Actor Proc: phas: dir. T¯angmˇı tíng - xialai, Tommy stop down “Tommy stopped,”

(12)

Existent 21 ge zì. 21 meas character “21 words.”

 M. A. K. Halliday and Edward McDonald

(13)

Actor Phase: temp Proc: mat. T¯a jìxù xiˇe: he continue write “He continued writing:”

(14)

Time Actor Pro1:mat. “mˇei ti¯an, wˇo d¯ou dài each day I all take Goal Pro2:mat Range Pro3:mat Bˇaobˇı qù g¯ongyuán sànbù, Bobby go park stroll “every day I take Bobby to the park for a walk,”

(15)

Location Proc:exis. Existent dàn rúguˇo ti¯an xià yˇu, but if sky fall rain “but if it’s raining,”

(16)

Actor Pro1:mat. Goal Pro2:mat Pro3:mat wˇo jiù bù dài t¯a qù sànbù.” I then neg take s/he go stroll “I don”t take him for a walk.” “

(17)

Proc: exis. Existent Yòu shì 24 ge zì, further be 24 meas character “Another 24 words,”

(18)

Actor Proc:mat. Aspect Range:proc t¯a shˇu le shu, he count asp:compl. count “he counted (them)”

(19)

Existent y¯ıgòng 45 ge zì. altogether 45 meas character “altogether 45 words.”

(20)

Actor Proc: ment. Aspect Time:duration T¯angmˇı xiˇang le jˇı f¯en zh¯ong Tommy think asp:pf. few minute clock “Tommy thought for a few minutes”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Chinese 

(21)

Proc: mat. ji¯ezhe xiˇe, next write “and then wrote,”

Notes . On a personal note, my own early linguistic studies were in fact all carried out on Chinese, not on English – it has been said that this fact is reflected in systemic functional theory! (MAKH) . We shall not attempt to give here the Chinese equivalents of all technical terms; for useful references, see Liu & Zhao (1979), Hu et al. (1989). . Circumstantial attributives are often referred to as “locational”; but since the category includes some which express relation rather than location or direction, we prefer the broader term. . One of the few exceptions to this is the number system in the personal pronouns, where unmarked terms are singular. Elsewhere, for example with human nouns, being formally unmarked for number is non-committal as to singular or plural.

References Caffarel, A. (1995). “Approaching the French clause as a Move in Dialogue: Interpersonal organization.” In R. Hasan & P. Fries (Eds.), On Subject and Theme, a Discourse Functional Perspective (pp. 1–49). Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Chao, Yuen Ren (1946). “The logical structure of Chinese words.” Language, 22(4), 4–13. Chao, Yuen Ren (1948). Mandarin Primer. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Chao, Yuen Ren (1968). A Grammar of Spoken Chinese. Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. Chao, Yuen Ren (1972). Language and Symbolic Systems. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. DeFrancis, John (1972). Nationalism and Language Reform in China. New York: Octagon Books. —— (1984). The Chinese Language: fact and fantasy. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Fang, Yan & Ai Xiaoxia (1995). “A tentative thematic network in Chinese.” In Ren (Ed., pp. 14–28). Fang, Yan, Edward McDonald, & Cheng Musheng (1995). “Subject and Theme in Chinese: a systemic functional account.” In Hasan & Fries (Eds., pp. 235–273). Fawcett, Robin P. (1987). “The semantics of clause and verb for relational processes in English.” In M. A. K. Halliday & Robin P. Fawcett (Eds.), New Developments in Systemic Linguistics: theory and description (pp. 130–183). London: Pinter.

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Frei, Henri (1956–1957). “The ergative construction in Chinese.” Gengo Kenkyu, 31, 22–50; 32, 83–115. Gao, Mingkai (1948). Hànyˇu Yˇufˇa Lùn. [A theory of Chinese grammar.] Beijing: Kaiming Shudian. Halliday, M. A. K. (1956). “Grammatical categories in Modern Chinese.” Transactions of the Philological Society (pp. 178–224). Halliday, M. A. K. (1959). The Language of the Chinese “Secret History of the Mongols”. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Publications of the Philological Society XVII. Halliday, M. A. K. (1967). Intonation and Grammar in British English. The Hague: Mouton. Halliday, M. A. K. (1967–1968). “Notes on transitivity and theme in English.” Journal of Linguistics, 3(1), 37–81, 3(2), 199–244, 4(2), 179–215. Halliday, M. A. K. (1978). Language as Social Semiotic: the social interpretation of language and meaning. London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. (1988). “On the ineffability of grammatical categories.” In James D. Benson, Michael J. Cummings, & William S. Greaves (Eds.), Linguistics in a Systemic Perspective (pp. 27–51). Amsterdam: Benjamins. Halliday, M. A. K. (1993). “Systemic grammar and the concept of a “science of language”.” In Zhu (Ed., pp. 1–22). Halliday, M. A. K. (1994). An Introduction to Functional Grammar. (2nd edition). London: Arnold. (First edition published 1985.) Halliday, M. A. K. (1998). “On the grammar of pain.” Functions of Language, 5(2), 1–32. Halliday, M. A. K. & Ruqaiya Hasan (1976). Cohesion in English. London: Longman. Halliday, M. A. K. & J.R. Martin (1993). Writing Science: literacy and discursive power. London and Washington, DC: Falmer Press. Halliday, M. A. K. & C. Matthiessen (1999). Construing Experience through Meaning: a language-based approach to cognition. London: Cassell. Hasan, Ruqaiya & Peter H. Fries (Eds.). (1995). On Subject and Theme: a discourse functional perspective. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: Benjamins. Hu, Zhuanglin (1981). Textual Cohesion in Chinese. University of Sydney: M.A. Hons. thesis. Hu, Zhuanglin (Ed.). (1990). Language System and Function: papers from the First Chinese Conference on Systemic Functional Grammar. Beijing: Peking University Press. Hu, Zhuanglin (1994). Yˇupi¯ande Yánji¯e yˇu Liángu¯an. [Discourse cohesion and coherence.] Shanghai: Shanghai Foreign Language Education Press. Hu, Zhuanglin (1995a). D¯angdài Yˇuyán Lˇılùn yˇu Yìngyòng. [Contemporary linguistic theories and applications.] Beijing: Peking University Press. Hu, Zhuanglin (1995b). “Y¯ıng Hàn yíwèn yuqì ˇ xìtˇong de du¯océngcì hé du¯oyuáng¯ongnéng jiˇeshì.” [A multistratal and multifunctional interpretation of the English and Chinese interrogative mood systems.] In Ren (Ed.). Hu, Zhuanglin & Fang Yan (Eds.). (1997). Advances in Functional Linguistics in China: papers from the 22nd International Systemic Functional Congress and Fourth Chinese Conference on Systemic Functional Grammar. Beijing: Tsinghua University Press. Hu, Zhuanglin, Zhu Yongsheng, & Zhang Delu (1989). Xìtˇong G¯ongnéng Yˇufˇa Gàilùn. [A Survey of Systemic Functional Grammar.] Changsha: Hunan Education Press. von Humboldt, Wilhelm (1836/1997). In T. Harden & D. Farrelly (Eds.), Essays on Language (trans. John Wieczorek & Ian Roe). Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.

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Jespersen, Otto (1921). Language: its nature, development and origin. London: Allen & Unwin. Kennedy, George A. (1964). In Tien-yi Li (Ed.), Selected Works. New Haven: Far Eastern Publications. Kwok, Helen (1984). Sentence Particles in Cantonese. Hong Kong: University of Hong Kong, Centre for Asian Studies. Li, Charles N. & Sandra A. Thompson (1974). “Coverbs in Mandarin Chinese: verbs or prepositions?” Journal of Chinese Linguistics, 2(3), 257–278. Li, Charles N. & Sandra A. Thompson (1976). “Subject and Topic: a new typology of language.” In Charles N. Li (Ed.), Subject and Topic. New York: Academic Press. Li, Charles N. & Sandra A. Thompson (1981). Mandarin Chinese: a functional reference grammar. Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. Li, Jinxi (1924/1983). X¯ınzhù Guóyˇu Wénfˇa. [A new grammar of Mandarin.] Beijing: Commercial Press. Li, Ying-che, Zheng Liangwei et al. (1990). A Practical Reference Grammar of Chinese. Liu, Yongquan & Zhao Shikai (1979). Y¯ıng-Hàn Yˇuyánxué Cíhuì. [English-Chinese Dictionary of Linguistic Terminology.] Beijing: Chinese Academy of Social Sciences Press. Liu, Yuehua, Pan Wenwu, & Gu Wei (1983). Shíyòng Xiàndài Hànyˇu Yˇufˇa. [A practical grammar of modern Chinese.] Beijing: Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press. Long, Rijin (1981). Transitivity in Chinese. University of Sydney: M.A. Hons. thesis. Lu, Chih-wei (1960). “The status of the word in Chinese linguistics.” In P. Ratchnevsky (Ed.), Beiträge zum Problem des Wortes in Chinesischen (pp. 34–47). Berlin: Akademie-Verlag. Lü, Jiping et al. (1958). Hànyˇu de Zhˇuyˇu B¯ınyˇu Wèntí. [The problem of subject and object in Chinese.] Beijing. Lü, Shuxiang (1944). Zh¯ongguó Wénfˇa Yàolüè. [An outline of Chinese grammar.] Shanghai: Commercial Press. McDonald, Edward (1994). “Completive Verb Compounds in Modern Chinese: a new look at an old problem.” Journal of Chinese Linguistics, 22(2), 317–362. McDonald, Edward (1996). “The “complement” in Chinese grammar: a functional reinterpretation.” In Ruqaiya Hasan, Carmel Cloran, & David G. Butt (Eds.), Functional Descriptions: theory in practice (pp. 265–286). Amsterdam: Benjamins. McDonald, Edward (1998). Clause and Verbal group systems in Chinese: a text-based functional approach. Macquarie University: PhD Thesis. Ma, Qingzhu (1997). “Zhˇırén c¯anyˇuzhˇe jiˇaosè gu¯anxì q¯uxiàng yuˇ Hànyˇu dòngcí de y¯ıxi¯e xiˇaolèi.” [Tendencies in the relationship to human participant roles: some microclasses of Chinese verbs.] In Hu & Fang (Eds., pp. 135–143). Martin, J. R. (1992). English Text: system and structure. Philadelphia & Amsterdam: Benjamins. Matthews, Stephen & Virginia Yip (1994). Cantonese: a comprehensive grammar. London & New York: Routledge. Matthiessen, Christian (1995). Lexicogrammatical Cartography: English systems. Tokyo: International Language Sciences Publishers.

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Mullie, J. (1932). The Structural Principles of the Chinese Language: an introduction to the spoken language (Northern Pekingese Dialect). Vol. 1. Peiping: The Bureau of Engraving and Printing. Needham, Joseph (1958–). Science and Civilisation in China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Norman, Jerry (1988). Chinese. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ouyang, Xiaoqing (1986). The Clause Complex in Chinese. University of Sydney: M.A. thesis. Ren, Shaozeng (Ed.). (1995). Language, System, Structure: papers from the Third Chinese Conference on Systemic Functional Grammar. Hangzhou: Hangzhou University Press. Sampson, Geoffrey (1985). Writing Systems. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Sapir, Edward (1921). Language. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World. Tam, Mo-shuet (1979). A Grammatical Description of Transitivity in Mandarin Chinese, based on a study of texts in translation. University of London: PhD Thesis. Tao, Hongyin (1996). Units in Mandarin Conversation: prosody, discourse and grammar. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Teng, Shou-hsin (1975). A Semantic Study of Transitivity Relations in Chinese. Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. Tsao, Feng-fu (1979). A Functional Study of Topic in Chinese: the first step towards discourse analysis. Taipei: Student Book Co. Tsao, Feng-fu (1990). Sentence and Clause Structure in Chinese: a functional perspective. Taipei: Student Book Co. Tsung, Tiehwa (1986). Circumstantial Elements in Chinese. University of Sydney: M.A. thesis. Wang, Li (1944). Zh¯ongguó Yˇufˇa Lˇılùn [Theory of Chinese grammar.] Chongqing: Commercial Press. Whitney, William Dwight (1875). The Life and Growth of Language. London: Henry King & Co. Winestock, Ian (1998). A Corpus-based Analysis of Transitivity in Chinese. Macquarie University: B.A. Hons. thesis. Zhang, Delu (1997). “Cóng wénhuà yuˇ g¯ongnéng de jiˇaodù jiˇeshì Hànyˇu de yˇuxù.” [Explaining word order in Chinese from the point of view of culture and function.] In Hu & Fang (Eds.). Zhou, Xiaokang (1997). Material and Relational Transitivity in Mandarin Chinese. University of Melbourne: PhD Thesis. Zhu, Dexi (1982). Yˇufˇa Jiˇangyì. [Lecture notes on grammar.] Beijing: Commercial Press. Zhu, Dexi (1985). Yˇufˇa Dáwèn. [Answering questions on grammar.] Beijing: Commercial Press. Zhu, Yongsheng (1985). Modality and Modulation in English and Chinese. University of Sydney: M.A. thesis. Zhu, Yongsheng (Ed.). (1993). Language, Text, Context: papers from the Second Chinese Conference on Systemic Functional Grammar. Beijing: Tsinghua University Press.

Chapter 7

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese Minh Duc Thai University of Western Sydney

. Introduction Vietnam has an elongated S-shape and is situated on the Indochinese Peninsula. China is its neighbour in the North; Laos and Cambodia in the West. Vietnam has a long coastal line bordering the China Sea in the East. The population of Vietnam is about 80 million. Vietnam has a long history of struggling against foreign invasion – 1,000 years under Chinese rule and 100 years under the French Colonialism. War ended in 1975 and the whole country has been in the socialist system ever since. Vietnamese is a mixture of Austro-Asiatic languages, having a number of common linguistic features with Mon-khmer, Thai and Muong languages (Vuong & Moore 1994). However, due to the strong influence of Chinese over a thousand years’ domination, Vietnamese shares many similarities with Cantonese in terms of lexis and grammar. Vietnamese used Chinese characters as their written language for many centuries until 1548 when Quoc Ngu – a new Vietnamese writing system introduced by Alexandre de Rhodes (a French Jesuit missionary) – was adopted and used as a national language. Vietnamese is a monosyllabic language in the sense that each word consists of only one syllable. Polysyllabic words are made and are known as tu-ghep (“compound words”). Such words were originally represented by means of hyphenation as in buc-tranh (“picture”), hoc-duong (“school”), muc-dich (“objective”), hoc-gia (“scholar”). In everyday use these words tend to be written as two syllables without a hyphen (Vuong & Moore 1994: 6–9). Hence all the polysyllabic words in the examples throughout the chapter, although being written without a hyphen from the original source, are represented as one word in the English translation. In all examples in this chapter where tables are not provided because of limited space, hyphens are inserted for the purpose of analysis and interpretation.

 Minh Duc Thai

In this chapter, I will present a provisional sketch of a systemic functional description of Vietnamese grammar in terms of metafunctions. The description is based on my previous work on the metafunctional profile of Vietnamese grammar from two different perspectives: discourse and grammar (Thai 1998). Firstly, I will briefly describe theme as the textual organization and resources for presenting the clause as a message in Vietnamese. Secondly, I will point out the resources for enacting the clause as an exchange and the system of mood in Vietnamese. And finally, I will present an overview of the system of transitivity as resources available in Vietnamese for its speakers to construe the experience of the world around them and inside them. This chapter will be a brief description of Vietnamese clause grammar in light of systemic functional theory. Under the influence of the views about language as rule, traditional grammatical terminology, in particular that related to “parts of speech” has been common in most Vietnamese grammar textbooks. For example, a noun is often defined as a word denoting a person, place, thing, etc.; verbs as words which express the occurrence of action or event; adjectives as words which modify a noun; adverbs as words that modify a verb, an adjective or another adverb, and so on. These grammatical terms are “class” terms which allow us to classify words according to the way they are used or according to the roles they play in language. However, confusion might occur as in the examples below: (1) Cuon sach do hay. book that interesting “That book is interesting.” (2) Nhieu nguoi noi Tieng Viet o day. many people speak Vietnamese here “Many people speak Vietnamese here.” (3) Cuon sach Tieng Viet do hay. book Vietnamese that interesting “That Vietnamese book is interesting.” Cuon sach (“book”) and Tieng Viet (“Vietnamese”) are nouns in terms of class but they play different roles in terms of function. In example (3), Tieng Viet might be argued as playing the role of an adjective: a describing word to provide additional information about a noun. So even if it belongs to the class “noun”, it functions to provide information about another noun: cuon sach (“book”). In this case, I apply the functional label Classifier to denote nouns acting as an adjective (Thai 1998). In addition, we might come up with another problem as shown in examples (4) and (5) below:

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

(4) Chinh phu tien hanh 3 cuoc cach mang. government carry out 3 revolution “The government has carried out 3 revolutions.” (5) Viec tien hanh 3 cuoc cach mang se-co mot-tac dong-lon ... noun carry out 3 revolution will-have one-effect-great “The implementation of the three revolutions will have a great effect . . . ” The government is trying to do something in these examples and this is expressed by the Vietnamese words tien hanh or viec tien hanh. In example (4), tien hanh is obviously a doing word and functions in the way we expect verbs to function. However, in (5), the word viec tien hanh looks like a doing word (verb) but it functions in one of the ways we would expect of a noun: it is preceded by a noun marker viec and it is itself doing something. So, viec tien hanh acts as a thing rather than as a happening or event. The examples above show that traditional grammar terminology and classification of words in Vietnamese is useful only up to a point and further interpretation of how language works is needed. That is to say I do not reject or discard the terminology of traditional grammar but I will build on and refine the notions of traditional grammar in systemic functional ways. However, within the scope of this chapter, I am just summarizing the grammar of Vietnamese at clause rank: theme as the system that presents the ideational and interpersonal meanings as text in context, mood as the system of resources that enact roles and relations in dialogic interactions and transitivity as the system which is concerned with the construal of the experience of the world around us and inside us.

. The metafunctional description .. theme The textual metafunction is described by Halliday (1978) as the enabling metafunction. In relation to the other two metafunctions – the interpersonal and ideational – it plays a very significant role in the meaning-making process: it constructs ideational and interpersonal meanings as information. In Vietnamese, the textual metafunction organizes the clause as a quantum of information – a message. As a message, the clause is structured into different informational statuses, in particular thematicity and newsworthiness. Thematicity is determined by the system of theme. This system organizes the clause into two textual phases, Theme and Rheme. The Theme in Vietnamese sets up the local environment of the clause, relating it to the development of the text; it provides the addressee with a “point of departure” for interpreting the message. The Rheme presents the remainder of

 Minh Duc Thai

the message – the newsworthiness in relation to the textual environment set up by the Theme. In Vietnamese, Theme is realized by initial position and Rheme is realized by non-initial position. The configuration of these two functional components within the system of theme will cover various transitions in the development of text, and the assignment of textual statuses will enable the clause to be organized as a message from the speaker to the listener with gradual guidance from the point of departure to the point of destination where a full interpretation of the message is made available. Within the systemic functional framework, textual statuses in Vietnamese are seen as degrees of prominence: we have Theme at one end of the cline in the thematic prominence moving to the non-prominence at the other end of the cline which is Rheme. Complementary to this thematic prominence in the clause is another kind of textual prominence – newsworthiness. This is represented by another cline, with given information (represented as Given) at one end and new information (represented as New) at the other. In unmarked cases, Theme + Rheme complements Given + New within the clause and the message can be interpreted as a combination of the two textual waves: Theme-Rheme and Given-New, with Theme falling within Given and New falling within Rheme. Example (6) below illustrates the combination of Theme + Rheme and Given + New (i.e. the interaction of the theme and information focus systems). (6)

Pham dinh Khiem sinh tai lang Duc-duc, phu Kim Son. Pham dinh Khiem born in village Duc-duc district Kim Son Theme Rheme Given ← → New “Pham dinh Khiem was born in Duc-duc Village, Kim Son District.” (Bang 1962)

In Vietnamese, new information typically falls at the end of the information unit. As thematic prominence decreases, information prominence increases. The intersection of thematic prominence and information prominence can be summarized in Figure 7.1:

Theme

thematic prominence

Rheme

information prominence

Figure 7.1 Intersection of thematic and information structures

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

Although it was stated above that the theme in a Vietnamese clause is realized in initial position, saying that “theme is what comes first in the clause” is not a sufficient recognition criterion for Theme. There is no overt Theme marker in Vietnamese, but a minimal Theme typically contains an experiential element. This may be a process, participant or circumstance. A larger Theme may consist of an obligatory experiential element preceded by an interpersonal element and/or a textual element. The sequential order of Themes typically found in a Vietnamese clause is shown in example (7). (7)

The roi may man thay no gap lai nguoi ban cu. then fortunately he meet again friend old textual interpersonal topical (optional) (optional) (obligatory) Theme Rheme “Then fortunately he met his old friend again.”

In Vietnamese, the Theme extends up to and includes the first ideational element (Thai 1996). That is, every clause has an ideational (topical) phase of the Theme which is an element within the transitivity structure of the clause. While the ideational element is given thematic status, the clause may optionally contain interpersonal and textual phases of Theme. I have found in my exploration of Vietnamese Theme that a clause may have a single Theme (which contains only topical Theme) or a multiple Theme (which has an additional interpersonal or textual phase). The network of single/multiple Theme is illustrated in the Figure 7.2 below and the three types of Theme are discussed in the next three sections.

... Ideational Theme The ideational or topical Theme consists of element(s) that represent a process, a participant in the process or a circumstance. In other words, the ideational phase of Theme conflates with a function from the transitivity structure of the clause. In unmarked cases, the topical Theme is conflated with the Subject of the clause. A topical Theme which does not conflate with the Subject is considered to be marked. This is represented in Figure 7.2.

Figure 7.2 theme selection: Single/multiple Theme

 Minh Duc Thai

In terms of grammatical class, an unmarked topical Theme may be a nominal group as in examples (8) and (9) or a nominal group with nominal Head and clause as Modifier as in example (10). (8)

Day la buoc dau cua Tinh Viet Van Doan. This be step first of Tinh Viet Van Doan Theme Rheme “This is the first step of Tinh Viet Van Doan.” (Bang 1962)

(9)

Rat nhieu nguoi Viet song o Cabramatta. Very many Vietnamese live in Cabramatta Theme Rheme “Many Vietnamese live in Cabramatta.”

(10)

Nguoi ma toi yeu thuong nhat trong doi la me toi. person that I love most in life be mother I Theme Rheme “The person who I love most in my life is my mother.”

A marked topical Theme may be a prepositional phrase, as in examples (11) and (12), or a verbal group, as in example (13). (11)

Tren troi co dam may xanh. on sky have cloud blue Theme: marked Rheme “In the sky there is a blue cloud.”

(12)

Trong truyen Kieu, Nguyen Du da ve len mot buc tranh . . . in tale Kieu Nguyen Du past draw up one picture Theme: marked Rheme “In the tale of Kieu, Nguyen Du drew up a picture ...”

(13)

Cam ban do trong tay, chung ta se khong bi lac. hold map in hand we will neg pass lose Theme: unmarked Rheme “With the map in our hands, we won’t get lost.”

... Interpersonal Theme The interpersonal Theme is the part of the Theme that includes the speaker’s judgement or comments on the proposition or the proposal being exchanged. In Vietnamese, the interpersonal Theme is often realized by modal Adjuncts. Modal Adjuncts are elements that are expressed by an adverbial group or prepositional phrase and that represent (i) a probability, for example, co le “perhaps”, di nhien

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

“of course” and ro rang “obviously”; (ii) a usuality, for example, thuong thuong “usually” and doi khi “sometimes”; (iii) an opinion, for example, theo y kien cua toi “in my opinion”; or (iv) an admission, for example, that tinh ma noi “to tell the truth”. Examples (14) to (17) demonstrate various interpersonal Themes. (14)

Khong phai noi qua nhung-truyen co that la mot neg exaggerate pl-legend really be one interpersonal topical Theme Rheme . . . kho vang vo gia cua ong cha de lai heritage invaluable of grandfather leave . . . Rheme . . . lam cai von qui cho con chau . . . make wealth precious for grandchildren . . . Rheme “Without exaggeration, the legends are really an invaluable heritage which is left by grandfathers to grandchildren as precious wealth . . . ” (Nguyen van Ngoc 1932)

(15)

Nhung noi chung, chua may ai suu tap but in general no many who collect textual interpersonal topical Theme Rheme . . . truyen co tich duoc tuong doi nhieu . . . legend relatively many . . . Rheme “But generally speaking, not many people have collected legends in relatively great numbers . . . ” (Nguyen dong Chi 1993)

(16)

That ra, kho tang truyen co tich cua chung ta actually heritage legend of we interpersonal topical Theme Rheme . . . co khong it loai hinh have neg few type Rheme “Actually, our heritage of legends includes numerous types . . . ” (Nguyen dong Chi 1993)

 Minh Duc Thai

(17)

Nhung tiec thay bao nhieu su dung cam cua minh toi but unfortunately much courage of self I textual interpersonal topical: marked Theme Rheme da tieu xai het-trong thoi trai tre di danh Phap . . . past spent in day young go fight French . . . Rheme “But unfortunately, all the courage I had was spent in the days when I was young fighting against the French . . . ” (From “Ly Than [Divorce]” by Tran Manh Hao, republished in the Vietnamese Daily, Sydney, February 1995)

... Textual Theme Besides the elements that express the experiential meanings and interpersonal meanings in thematic position of a clause, we often find another element that does a no less important job: relating the clause to its discourse/context. This kind of element has nothing to do with signalling the point of departure or carrying onwards the speaker/reader’s comments on the proposal or proposition being exchanged, but it does connect each message to the previous text and in doing so makes the text cohesive. These elements often occur at the beginning of the clause in thematic position in Vietnamese to exercise its text-creating meanings. Following Halliday (1994), I call them textual Themes. In Vietnamese, textual Themes can be Continuatives, and/or Structural and/or Conjunctives. Continuatives are words typically used in spoken Vietnamese to signal a new move. They may indicate the continuity of what the speaker is saying with what the previous speaker said. Common Continuatives are o (“oh”), vang (“yes”), duoc (“right”), dau sao di nua (“anyway”), the thi (“then”), the nao (“well”), thoi duoc (“all right”), u (“hmm”), nao (“now”) and nay (“hey”). (Note that vang (“yes”) is a Continuative when it is not elliptical.) The following examples demonstrate Continuatives as textual Themes. (18)

Nay ban co ve met day! cont you look tired excl textual topical Theme Rheme “Hey, you look tired!”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

(19) a.

b.

(20)

Toi khong thich Da Lat nua. I neg like Da Lat any more Theme Rheme “I don’t like Da Lat any more.” – The thi ve Saigon di. cont go back Saigon imp textual topical Theme Rheme “Well, go back to Saigon.”

The bao gio di mày ve ha May? cont when auntie of you come back May textual topical Theme Rheme “Right, when will your auntie come back May?” (Do Thi Hien Hoa 1993)

While Continuatives signal a new move or indicate the continuity of what the speaker said in the preceding discourse, Structurals are elements that serve to link the clauses together in a clause complex. They set up not only the semantic but also the grammatical relationship between the present clause and the preceding one. Structurals include conjunctions. These tend to occur in thematic position and are treated as textual Themes. Conjunctions commonly found in Vietnamese are listed below: va “and” the nen “then” cho den khi “until” tu khi “since” hay/hoac “or” trong khi “while” vi rang “because” rang “that” nhung “but” khi ma “when” boi le “because” du “whether” cho nen “so” truoc khi “before” neu “if ” tham chi du “even if ” vi vay “so” sau khi “after” tru phi “unless” gia ti nhu “in case” de ma “in order to/ in order that” gia su rang “supposing that” voi dieu kien la/mien sao “provided cho rang “assuming that” that” mac dau la “in spite of the fact that” The following examples are short extracts from texts, showing how conjunctions (structural textual Themes) link clauses. (21) a.

. . . moi nguoi trong chung ta deu phai ban ron every person among we Theme: topical Rheme . . .

 Minh Duc Thai

b.

(22) a.

that nhieu voi sinh ke cua minh. really much with means of living . . . Rheme “. . . everybody among us is so busy with the daily business of living.” Cho nen, khong co nhieu thi gio de so neg have much textual topical Theme Rheme . . . day do giao duc con em minh doc. . . . Rheme “Therefore, we have no time to teach and educate our children . . . ” (V. T. Nguyen 1993) That ra, viec giang day co rat nhieu cach, nhieu in fact noun teach have very many ways many interpersonal topical Theme Rheme . . .

phuong phap khac nhau tuy theo ca nhan so thich trinh do kinh nghiem method different depend on individual like levels experience . . . Rheme “In fact, there are many ways of teaching, many different methods depending on each individual, his/her likes, levels, experience,” b.

mien sao giang day duoc ket qua tot . . . provided that teaching obtain results good textual topical Theme Rheme “provided that the teaching can bring about good results.” (V. T. Nguyen 1993)

Text: Nguoi Nong Dan Va Con Gau (The Farmer And The Bear) (Taken from Tieng Viet – Vietnamese – by Bo Giao Duc Va Dao Tao – Department of Education and Training Publisher – 1995.) Ngay xua , -co- mot- nguoi nong dan- ngheo- doi. -Anh ta -phai- bo -langvao- rung -vo hoang, -trong tria. -Mot hom -khi- anh -dang- gieo- hat -cai -cu,- bong- co -mot- con gau- to- o dau- chay den -quat -lon: “-Anh kia, -Ai -cho phep- anh -vao -rung- cua- ta?”.- Nguoi nong dan -binh tinh -dap lai: “-Ong gau oi!- Ong -de- cho -toi- gieo- it- cai.- Khi- cai- lon, -toi -chi -lay goc -thoi. -Con -tat ca -thuoc ve- phan -ong. -“Gau -nghe -bui tai, -noi: “-The

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

cung duoc. -Nhung -anh- phai- giu dung -loi hua. -Neu khong,- ta -se -xe xac “. -Cai- cu -lon. -Nguoi nong dan -dao -lay -cu -dem -ve -an. -Con -ngon -de lai- cho -gau. -Gau -an -thay -dang, -tuc -lam, -nhung -khong -lam gi -duoc. Day old-have-one-farmer-poor-hungry. He-have to-leave-village-enter-forestexplore unknown land-cultivate. -One- day-while-he-continuous tense makersow-seed-cabbage, suddenly-have-one-bear-big-from- where-run (to him)-shout“You! Who -allow-you-enter-forest-of-I”. Farmer-calmly-reply: “Mr Bear!- Youlet-I-sow-some-cabbage. When-cabbage-big, I-only-take-root. And-all (the rest)belong to-you. “Bear- hear-reasonable-say-: “All right -But-you-have to-keeppromise. Otherwise, -I-will-tear-body”. Cabbage-big-. Farmer-dig-take-rootbring back-eat. And-top-leave-bear. Bear-eat-(and)taste-bitter, -angry-, butnegative particle-do-thing-particle. Once upon a time, there was a poor and hungry farmer. He had to leave the village to enter the forest to explore the unknown land for cultivation. One day, while he was sowing cabbage seeds, there suddenly appeared a big bear who ran to him and shouted: “You! Who allows you to enter my forest?”. The farmer calmly replied: “Mr Bear! Please allow me to sow some cabbage. When the cabbage is big, I will only take the root, and all the rest will belong to you”. The bear was pleased to hear that, (and) said, “That’s fine. But you must keep your promise. Otherwise, I’ll tear your body apart”. The cabbage grew bigger. The farmer dug up the root and took it home to eat. As for the top, it was left to the bear. The bear ate it and found it bitter, he got very angry but could do nothing about it.

Conjunctives are elements that serve to relate the present clause to (part of) the preceding discourse. These elements have a circumstantial feature of time, comparison, cause, etc. and are interpreted as textual Themes when they occur before the topical Theme in a clause. Conjunctives in Vietnamese express a range of meanings within the general type of expansion. Principally, Conjunctives may express one of the following relationships: – – – – –

time: sau do “later”, truoc do “before that”, ve sau “later on”, sau cung “finally”, chang bao lau “soon”, trong khi do “meanwhile”, etc. comparison: tuong tu “likewise”, cung mot the ay “in the same way”, etc. cause: vi vay “therefore”, vi ly do nay “for this reason”, do vay “as a result”, cho nen “so”, etc. condition: neu khong “otherwise”, trong truong hop do “in that case”, trong hoan canh “under the circumstance”, etc. concession: cho du vay “despite that”, tuy vay ma “nevertheless”, etc.

Other Conjunctives include rieng ve viec do “as far as that’s concerned”, hon the nua “moreover”, them vao do “in addition”, mac khac “on the other hand”, song le

 Minh Duc Thai

“however”, nguoc lai “conversely”, thay vi do “instead”, tren thuc te “as a matter of fact”, noi tom lai “to sum up”, van gon la “briefly”, thoi thi “anyway”, gia chot/ it nhat la “at least”, tuu chung “in conclusion”, noi cho dung ra “to be precise”, noi khac di “in other words” and chang han nhu “for instance”. Text 7.1 shows the function of conjunctives in discourse. Text 7.1 Ket luan “Conclusion” (Doan Quoc Sy 1965) (1)

Lang thuan tuy Viet Nam la lang o mien Bac. village pure Vietnam be village in region north Theme: topical Rheme “The “pure” Vietnamese villages were the ones in the northern region.”

(2)

Roi day, voi nhung bien chuyen cua thoi cuoc, voi later on with pl change of time with Theme: text Theme: topical . . . Theme . . . su va cham cua nuoc ta voi nen van minh Tay phuong, collision of country we with civilisation west . . . Theme: topical . . . . . . Theme cac lang mac va phong tuc ngay chinh mien Bac pl village and custom right part north Rheme cung co chiu nhieu su thay doi. also have go through much change Rheme “Later on, with changes due to time and the collision between our civilization and the Western civilization, the villages and customs right in the northern part also went through a lot of changes,”

(3)

nhung chung ta but we textual topical Theme nguyen thuy cua primitive of . . . Rheme . . .

phai cong nhan rang che do lang xa must admit that system village Rheme . . . ta cung la mot sac thai we also be one aspect

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

dac biet cua nen van minh Lac Viet vay. particular of civilization Lac Viet indeed . . . Rheme “but we had to admit that the primitive village system was indeed a particular aspect of the Lac Viet’s civilization.” Quite often, through textual Themes, the purpose of the text is revealed. In narratives such as the one above, roi day “soon” and nhung “but” are the two main textual Themes. Others like va “and” and luc ay “then” are often used in narratives to sequence the actions or tie the events together in terms of time. In other discussion texts, textual Themes commonly found are boi le “because”, tuy nhien “however”, vi ly do nay “for this reason”, neu khong “otherwise”, neu “if ” and nhung “but”. These often function to enhance the argument as in the example below: (From Nguyen Sa: Tac Gia va Tac Pham – Nguyen Sa: The Author and His Works 1991; republished in Vietnamese Herald, October 1995.) Day la mot bai tieu bieu cho giai doan thoat xac trong tho Nguyen Sa. Nhung cai chan dung trung thuc cua hon tho ong van la mot Tho Nguyen Sa. Ong lai dang ngoi ca vi da gop cong khong nho vao su hinh thanh tho tu do. Neu vang mot Nguyen Sa hom nay, dien dan tho tu do da bo lai mot khoang trong. Neu thieu mot tho Nguyen Sa, thi ca hom nay se mat di nhieu nhung huong sac tuoi tre, sau dam. This-be-one-poem-represent-for-period-cast-skin-in-poem-Nguyen Sa. -But-portrait-true-of-spirit-poem-he-also-one-poem-Nguyen Sa. He-also-worth-praisebecause -past marker contribute-no little-to-establishment-poem-freedom. But for-one-Nguyen Sa-today-forum-poem-freedom-past marker-leave-spaceempty.-But for-one-poem-Nguyen Sa -poem-song-today-will-lose-plural marker flavor-fresh-sweet. This is a poem which represents a skin-sloughing phase in Nguyen Sa poetry. But the true portrait of the spirit in his poetry is still “Nguyen Sa Poetry”. He deserves an appreciation because he has made much contribution to the development of “free” poetry. But for our Nguyen Sa of today, the forum of “free” poetry would have left an empty space. But for Nguyen Sa’s poetry, songs and poems of today would lose their fresh and sweet flavors.

So far I have mapped out the interpretative framework of theme – the resource for organizing the clause as a message in Vietnamese. Theme is the point of departure or the local context for the clause to unfold from. The rest of the clause is called Rheme – it is where the clause moves after the point of departure. From the message angle, the clause is organized into Theme ^ Rheme. In Vietnamese Theme is realized by initial position in the clause. The Theme can be divided into three categories: ideational, interpersonal and textual. As a piece of text in context, each

 Minh Duc Thai

clause in Vietnamese, with its Theme-Rheme structure, can be viewed as being related to the preceding and following discourse or being organized in such a way that makes the text a coherent whole. In the next section I will look at the system of mood and the grammar of interpersonal meanings in Vietnamese.

.. mood ... Introduction to mood Let us look at interrogative and declarative clauses in Vietnamese and their various responses through the following exchanges (examples (23), (24) and (25)) are constructed for the purpose of exploring interpersonal grammar): (23) a.

Han di Saigon. he go Saigon “He has gone to Saigon.” b. Di chua? go int “Has he?” c. Di roi. go affirm “Has he.” d. Chua di dau. neg go neg “He hasn’t.” e. Di roi ma. go affirm affirm “He has.”

(24) a.

Tam ban nha, phai khong? Tam sell house int-polar “Has Tam sold the house?” b. Chua ban. neg sell “He hasn’t.” c. Ban roi ma. sell affirm affirm “He has.” d. Chua ban nhung se ban. neg sell but fut sell “He hasn’t but he will.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese

(25) a.

May co mua thuoc la khong? you int buy cigarette int-polar “Did you buy any cigarettes?” b. Khong mua. neg buy “I didn’t.”

Examples (23), (24) and (25) illustrate common interactions in Vietnamese in which an exchange of information occurs. So which functional elements do we need to recognize when considering the clause in its exchange function? In these exchanges, when one speaker makes a statement, the other argues with it. The first speaker then continues the argument while the second argues against it. While the argument is carried forward, each clause in the exchange appears to consist of two elements: an element involving the verbal group and a particle is tossed back and forth to keep the argument going, while another element – the remainder of the clause – is left out as the argument unfolds. I call the elements of the clause that carry the argument forward Negotiatory elements and the rest of the clause (which does not include these elements) the Remainder. In other words, the Vietnamese clause as exchange consists of two functional components: Negotiatory elements, which have the function of carrying the argument forward; and the Remainder, which can be left out when the argument is in progress. In Halliday’s terms, Negotiatory elements are elements which carry “the burden of the clause” in interaction. Structurally, the Negotiatory element consists of the Predicator and the Negotiator. The Predicator is realized by a verbal group in Vietnamese. The Predicator tells us something about the process – actions, events, mental processes or relations. In the above exchanges, di “go” in example (23), ban “sell” in (24) and mua “buy” in (25) are Predicators. The Negotiator is realized by one of the interpersonal particles: polar interrogative particles, elemental interrogative items or imperative particles. Positionally, the Negotiator can come at the end of the clause, but in several cases it may occur in pre-verbal position or initial position in the clause depending on the meaning the speaker wants to express (Thai 1996). The interpersonal particles and items serving as Negotiator are summarized in the Tables 7.1 & 7.2 above and Table 7.3 below.

... Indicative Indicative is the grammatical category that is characteristically used to exchange information in Vietnamese. Within the indicative are two subtypes: the declarative and the interrogative. The declarative is the characteristic realization of a statement and the interrogative is the characteristic realization of a question. Within



 Minh Duc Thai

Table 7.1 Polar interrogative particles serving as Negotiator

a

polar inter. particle phai khong

examples

meaning

position in clause

May-thich-no-phai khong? You-like-he-phai khong? “You like him, don’t you?” Phai-no-can-tien-khong? Phai-he-need-money-khong? “He needs money, doesn’t he?”

Is that right or not?

final

a

phai . . . khong

b

co . . . khong/ khong

Em-co-yeu-anh-khong? You-co-love-I-khong? “Do you love me?”

c

ha/ho

d

u

e

sao/hay sao

f

cho/chu

g

a

h

chua

May-thuong-no-ha? You-love-he-ha? “You love him, don’t you?” No-noi-nhu vay-u? He-say-so-u? “Did he really say that?” May-biet-nhay-hay sao? You-know-dance-hay sao? “So did you know how to dance?” May-khong-so-ma-chu? You-no-afraid of- ghost-chu? “You’re not afraid of ghosts, aren’t you?” May-khong-di-lam-a? You-no-go-work-a? “You don’t go to work, do you?” May-nghe-chua? You-hear-yet? “Have you heard it?”

Is that right? indicates expectation for an agreement

phai: initial; khong: final Yes or no? often used in co: positive interrogatives pre-verbal; khong: final Is it like that? indicate a final surprise or expectation for a confirmation Really? express a final suspicion or reproach Is that so? express a surprise or annoyance

final

Right? Indicate expectation for an agreement

final

Is it like that? expect for final a yes or no answer Yet? indicate a confirmation check

final

the interrogative are two subcategories: polar interrogatives and elemental interrogatives. The basic options in the mood system in Vietnamese are shown in the system network in Figure 7.3, and their realizations are outlined below. The indicative mood is realized in the structure of the Negotiatory element, which consists of either a Predicator alone or a Predicator together with an interrogative Negotiator. A Predicator on its own realizes the option ‘declarative’, as in example (26):

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

Table 7.2 Elemental interrogative items serving as Negotiator

i

j

k

l

m

n

elemental examples inter. item khi nao Khi nao-anh-ve-tham-lai-Vietnam? When-you-go back-visit-again-Vietnam? “When will you go back to Vietnam again for a visit?” tai sao Tai sao-may-danh-no? Why-you-beat-he? “Why did you beat him?” ai -Ai-nhin thay-may? (Subject) Who-see-you? “Who saw you?” -May-nhin thay-ai? (Complement) You-see-who? “Who(m) did you see?” o dau May-nhin thay-no-o dau? You-see-he-where? “Where did you see him?” lam the Lam the nao-may-thang? nao How-you-win? “How did you win?” chuyen gi/ -Chuyen gi-da-xay ra? (Subject) cai gi What-past marker-happen? “What has happened?” -May-da-mua-cai gi? (Complement) You-past marker-buy-what? “What did you buy?”

meaning position in clause when initial

why

initial

who

initial (Subject) or final (Comp.)

where

initial

how

initial

what

initial (Subject) or final (Comp.)

MOOD: ‘indicative: declarative’ (26)

Me di cho. mother go market Predicator Negotiatory element “Mother goes to the market.”

A Predicator together with one of the polar interrogative particles serving as Negotiator realizes the option ‘polar interrogative’, as in example (27):

 Minh Duc Thai

Table 7.3 Imperative particles serving as Negotiator

o

p

q

r

imperative particle nao/di nao

examples

Cuoi-di nao! Smile-di nao! “Smile!” di Di-ra-di! Go-out-di! “Go out, please!” hay Hay-di –ra-di? Hay-go-out-di? “Please go out!” nhe/nha/nghe -Dung-di-nhe! negative particle-go-nhe! “Don’t go, please!” -Ke-cho-me-nghe-nha! Tell-for-mother-hear-nha! “Tell me, will you?” (mother said to her child) -Im lang-nghe! Be quiet-nghe! “Be quiet, please!”

meanings will you?

position in clause final

do it, please!

final

please! please! often used with other imp. particles Will you please? indicates a mild order or request

initial

final

MOOD: ‘indicative: interrogative: polar’ (27)

Me di cho chua? mother go market int: pol Predicator Negotiator Negotiatory – – elements “Has mother gone to the market?”

A Predicator together with one of the elemental interrogative items serving as Negotiator realizes the option ‘elemental interrogative’, as in example (28): MOOD: ‘indicative: interrogative: elemental’ (28)

Tai sao no khoc? why he cry Negotiator Predicator Negotiatory – – elements “Why is he crying?”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

... Imperative A further option shown on the mood network in Figure 7.3 is the ‘imperative’ mood, which is typically used to express commands (i.e. to exchange goods-&services rather than information). The option ‘imperative’ is realized by a Negotiatory element that consists of a Predicator together with an imperative particle serving as Negotiator, as in example (29): MOOD: ‘imperative’ (29)

Hoc di! study imp Predicator Negotiator Negotiatory element “Study!”

... Summary of the mood system In summary, the basic mood options in Vietnamese realized by the Negotiatory elements (Predicator plus the Negotiators in Tables 7.1, 7.1 & 7.3) can be represented in the system network in Figure 7.3 below. Further examples are taken from various sources: (i)

Do you love me? – Co Co“Yes.”

Figure 7.3 Basic mood options in Vietnamese

 Minh Duc Thai

(ii)

“Little child there, do you want something?” – ‘Cu -la -ai?’ O Loi- ngac nhien. ‘You-be-who?’- O Loi-surprise ““Who are you?” O Loi was surprised.” (Truyen Than Tien Ma Quy Va Phu Phep – Stories about Fairies, Demons and Magical Powers – Nguyen Dong Chi 1993.) (iii)

“Do you (want to) eat more?” – Khong. – No -roi. Khong.Full-already. “No. I’m already full.” (iv) Cu co

thay

mot-ong-giá-va-hai-chang-di-ve- không? nga-ay

“Have you seen an old man and two youths going in that direction?” -Ba cu- dap-: “Co.- Ho -da -gap -Duc Phat -va -da- dac dao.” -Lady-old-reply:’Co.-They-past particle meet-Buddha-and-past particle attainNirvana’. “The old lady replied: “Yes. They have met Buddha and attained Nirvana.”” (Su Tich Thanh Lang – The Story of Saint Lang – Nguyen Dong Chi 1993)

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

While the Negotiatory element includes the Predicator and Negotiators, the Remainder consists of three functional elements: Subject, Complement and Adjunct (Thai 1998). These are not discussed in detail here due to the limited scope of the chapter. The Negotiatory elements + Remainder structure is typical of Vietnamese interpersonal grammar. Through the choice of Negotiatory elements, speakers indicate their choice of speech role and the commodity exchanged.

.. transitivity In this section, I will briefly describe the grammar of the clause as representation. Firstly I will talk about the clause in terms of “who does what to whom under what circumstances?”. Every clause of Vietnamese includes the “does what” elements. These are realized by verbal groups representing different types of processes: doings, happenings, feelings and beings. The first elements around these processes that need to be considered are the “who/to whom” elements – the participants, which give us some information about the one who does, feels, sees, thinks, behaves, is, etc. . . . or is affected by/associated by those processes. Participants are realized by nominal groups in Vietnamese. The other elements around the process in a clause are the “under what circumstances” elements – which give us some information about the circumstances of the processes. In Vietnamese, these are often realized by a prepositional phrase or an adverbial group (Thai 1998) and serve as circumstances. As processes are central to transitivity, we will look at the grammar of each of the primary process types in turn.

... Material grammar Material processes are processes of doing and happening: some entity physically does something, which may extend to affect another entity. The material clause is modelled as Process + at least one participant, the Actor – the one doing the material deeds. There may be another participant who is impacted by the Actor’s involvement in the Process, the Goal – towards which the process extends. Examples (30) and (31) show the Actor + Process + Goal configuration. (30)

Con bao da lam thiet hai nhieu cao-oc. storm past damage many tall building Actor Process: material Goal “The storm has damaged many tall buildings.”

(31)

Chu toi xay mot can nha moi. uncle I build one house new Actor Process: material Goal “My uncle has built a new house.”

 Minh Duc Thai

The Goal is the participant that is affected by or brought into existence by the doing Process, as in examples (30) and (31) above. In some cases, however, the entity serving as participant is just a restatement of the Process itself. They tend to specify the scope or domain of the Process. In Halliday’s (1967/8, 1994) terms, they are Ranges (often realized by a nominal group), as in examples (32) and (33). (32)

Co ay ca mot ban nhac buon. she sing one song sad Actor Process: material Range “She is singing a sad song.”

(33)

Ho choi bong ro. they play basketball Actor Process: material Range “They play basketball.”

Sometimes a material clause in Vietnamese may optionally specify a Recipient (the one to whom something is given) or a Client (the one for whom something is done). This option is called ‘recipiency’ in the system network of material clause (Thai 1998: 270–275). In Vietnamese, the Recipient (realized by a nominal group) precedes the Goal; the Client may occur either in the final position of the clause, marked with a preposition cho “for”, or precede the Goal. These different realizations are shown in examples (34) and (35). (34)

Em dang giat quan ao cho anh. I cont wash clothes for you Actor Process: material Goal Client “I am washing clothes for you.”

(35)

Ho cho toi nhieu qua. they give I many present Actor Proc: mat Recipient Goal “They gave me many presents.”

Another material (happening) type of process in Vietnamese that is worth mentioning is the meteorological process. There are alternative ways of expressing the process of raining in Vietnamese as shown in examples (36) to (38) below: (36)

Troi mua. sky rain Actor Process “It is raining.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

Figure 7.4 The general system of material grammar

(37)

Troi do mua. sky pour rain Actor Process Range “It is raining.”

(38)

Troi (con) lam mua. sky still make rain Actor Process Range “It is raining.”

In the three expressions, there is an Actor troi “sky” and a process mua “rain” alone, or an Actor and a Process + Range: do mua “pour rain” or lam mua “make rain” (in which mua “rain” is the Range). The Actor troi “sky” is the key figure in the process of raining – the one through which the process is actualized and without which there would be no process at all. In summary, the features of material grammar can be put in system network in Figure 7.4.

... Mental grammar Mental clauses construe our experience of processes of consciousness. They construe a process of sensing: perceiving, thinking or feeling. The participant in mental clauses does not so much act or act upon in a ‘doing’ sense; rather, s/he feels, thinks or perceives something. The participant who is involved in this sensing process is a conscious one – called the Senser. There may be another participant who enters into or impinges on the Senser’s consciousness – the Phenomenon. Example (39) shows the Senser + Process + Phenomenon configuration. (39)

Co ay yeu toi. she love I Senser Process: mental Phenomenon “She loves me.”

 Minh Duc Thai

Figure 7.5 The general system of mental grammar

A Phenomenon may be realized by a clause, an elaborating clause which represents an act, or an embedded clause which represents a fact (to use Halliday’s (1994) terms) through the system of phenomenality (Thai 1996). In terms of linguistic realization, an embedded clause is marked by la (“that”), rang (“that”), su viec rang (“the fact that”) while an elaborating clause is not. In addition, there is no tense marker in the Process of the elaborating clause. See examples (40) and (41). (40)

Ai thay ho danh nhau? who see they fight Senser Process: mental Phenomenon (elaborating clause): act “Who saw them fighting (with each other)?”

(41)

Toi tu hoi [[(la) chuyen gi da xay ra]] I wonder (that) what past happen Senser Process: mental Phenomenon (embedded clause): fact “I wonder what has happened.”

The mental grammar includes two simultaneous systems of phenomenality and sensing type but these are not discussed in detail here (Thai 1998: 280–295). The features of mental grammar are briefly summarised in the system network in Figure 7.5.

... Verbal grammar Verbal processes are processes of verbal action: of saying or symbolizing. A verbal process typically includes a participant who says or symbolizes – the Sayer. For example: (42)

Ho noi: “Nhieu nguoi da hy sinh”. they say many people past sacrifice Sayer Process: verbal Projection “They said: “Many people have sacrificed themselves”.”

Besides the Sayer, there can be a Receiver and a Verbiage. The Receiver is the one to whom the verbal process is directed and the Verbiage is the content of what is said or name of the saying. Both of these can be realized by a nominal group.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

The Receiver often precedes the Verbiage and may be marked by a preposition cho (“for”) or voi (“with/to”) as in examples (43) to (45) below: (43)

Ho hoi toi nhieu cau hoi kho. they ask I many question difficult Sayer Process: verbal Receiver Verbiage “They asked me many difficult questions.”

(44)

Thay giao ke cho chung em mot cau chuyen ngan. teacher tell for we one story short Sayer Proc: verb Receiver Verbiage “The teacher told us a short story.”

(45)

Toi noi voi chinh minh: “. . . ” I say with myself Sayer Proc: verb Receiver “I said to myself: “. . . ”.”

The Receiver is not always required in the verbal process, as in example (42) above. There is an option of specifying or not specifying the Receiver of the verbal process. I call this the receiver system (following Halliday 1994); it is represented in Figure 7.6 below. In addition, there is another option of specifying or not specifying the content of saying (Verbiage) in a verbal process in, as in the examples (42) to (45) above. This is the system verbalization, which is also shown in Figure 7.6 below. Within verbalization, when the class, quality or quantity of what is said is specified, we have a Verbiage which is realized by a nominal group. Following Halliday, I call this option ‘as name’. When, on the other hand, the content of the saying is represented as a quote or a report, we have another option of ‘as locution’ as in example (46) below: (46)

Han ta hoi: “Cac anh la ai?” he ask you be who Sayer Process: verbal “2 “He asks: “Who are you?” ”

The general systems of verbal grammar can be summarized in the following network in Figure 7.6 below. As implied by the adoption of Halliday’s terminology in this section, the verbal grammar of Vietnamese is similar to that of English at the level of delicacy described by the system network in Figure 7.6. More delicate systems of verbal grammar show characteristics that are specific to Vietnamese (see Thai 1998), but these will not be discussed here.

 Minh Duc Thai

Figure 7.6 The general system of verbal grammar

Figure 7.7 Existential grammar

... Relational grammar Relational processes are processes of being, having and being at. In Vietnamese, relational clauses can be either existential or expanding. An existential clause represents a process of being with only one participant, called the Existent, which is realized by a nominal group. The Existent may be an entity/thing or an event. In Vietnamese, existent clauses are easy to identify as they are marked by co “have” or xay ra “occur” after a certain circumstantial element (e.g. a Location) as in examples (47) and (48). (47)

Ngay xua, co mot anh hoc tro ngheo . . . day-old have one student poor Location Process: existential Existent “Once upon a time, there was a poor student . . . ”

(48)

Tu dao ay, trong gia dinh toi xay ra since day that in family I occur Location Proc: existential moi bat hoa giua me va vo. conflict between mother and wife Existent “Since that day, in my family, conflicts have occurred between my mother and my wife.”

The existential grammar can be represented as in Figure 7.7.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

Expanding relational processes differ from existential ones in that the former have two (or more) participants while the latter have only one participant. In the expanding mode, either of the participants is said to “be” the other and the relation between the two participants represents a true relational process. There are two distinctive modes of being: ascriptive and identifying. Ascriptive means “x is a member of the class a”. In the ascriptive mode, an entity has some quality ascribed or attributed to it. The quality is called the Attribute and the entity or participant to which the Attribute is ascribed is called the Carrier, as shown in examples (49) and (50). (49)

Co ay la bac si. she be doctor Carrier Process: relational Attribute “She is a doctor.”

(50)

Tao dau phai la thang ngoc. I neg be fool Carrier Process: relational Attribute “I am not a fool.”

The Attribute may be realized by a nominal group which does not contain the Numerative mot “one” in unmarked case, as in example (50) above. The Process la “be” is implicit and often not shown in cases where the Attribute is realized by an adjectival group which is treated as a Process/Attribute (Thai 1996), as in examples (51) and (52). (51)

Ong ta (rat) thong thai. he (very) wise Carrier Process/Attribute “He is (very) wise.”

(52)

May khung a? you crazy int Carrier Process/Attribute Negotiator “You’re crazy, aren’t you?”

However, with other ascriptive synonyms such as hoa/hoa ra/phat “turn out”, duong nhu “seem”, tro/tro nen “get”, nghe/nghe thay “sound”, ngui/ngui thay “smell”, co vi “taste”, trong co ve “look” and cam thay “feel”, the process typically is explicit, as in example (53).

 Minh Duc Thai

(53)

Y kien cua may nghe duoc. idea of you sound good Carrier Process: relational Attribute “Your idea sounds good.”

In Section 7.2.3.1, meteorological processes (“non-la verbs”) are defined as a material happening process. With la “be” and other verbs in the ascriptive class serving the process role in the relational clause, we have another type of meteorological process being treated as an ascriptive relational in which troi “sky” or thoi tiec “weather” serves as Carrier, as in examples (54) and (55). (54)

Troi tro lanh. weather get cold Carrier Process: relational Attribute “It is getting colder.”

(55)

Thoi tiec nong qua. weather hot too Carrier Process/Attribute “It’s extremely hot.”

The ascriptive mode discussed above can be glossed as “x is a member of the class a”. In the identifying mode, on the other hand, one entity is being used to identify another: “x is identified by a” or “a serves to identify the identity of x”. The element “x” is the one that is identified and is called the Identified, while the element “a” serves as the identity and is called the Identifier. Examples (56) and (57) are identifying relational clauses. (56)

Trinh Thieu Thu dong vai Gia Cat Luong. Trinh Thieu Thu play Gia Cat Luong Identified/Token Proc: rel: identifying Identifier/Value “Trinh Thieu Thu plays (the role of) Gia Cat Luong.”

(57)

Hai voi hai la bon. two with two be four Identified/Token Proc: rel: identifying Identifier/Value “Two and two are four.”

In identifying clauses such as examples (56) and (57), the two halves of the clause refer to the same thing. Trinh Thieu Thu in (56) and hai voi hai “two and two” in (57) have function of Token – that which stands for what is being defined. Gia Cat Luong in (56) and bon “four” in (57) have the function of Value – that which defines. Either Token or Value can be used to identify each other in an identifying clause, i.e. either the Token serves as Identified and the Value as Identifier, or

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

the Value serves as Identified and the Token as Identifier. Halliday (1967/8) calls the former option decoding and the latter encoding. Every identifying clause can be either decoding or encoding, that is, identifying clauses are bidirectional (i.e. reversible). These two options, encoding and decoding, construe the system of directional identification in the identifying clause, which can be represented in the system network of relational transitivity in Figure 7.8 below. Examples (56) and (57) above are decoding; examples of encoding realizations are shown below (example (58) is the encoding version of example (56)). (58)

Gia Cat Luong la (do) Trinh Thieu Thu (dong). Gia Cat Luong be passive Trinh Thieu Thu play Value/Identified Proc: relat.: – Token/Identifier – ident. “Gia Cat Luong is (is played by) Trinh Thieu Thu.”

(59)

Ngung lai (la duoc) tuong trung boi mau do. stop be passive represent passive red Value/Identified Process: relational: identifying Token/Identifier “Stop is (is represented by) red.”

In Vietnamese, the Identifier is often realized by a nominal group – typically a “specific” nominal group: either one that has a Head noun modified by a demonstrative or a possessive determiner, or a noun that is definite or unique in itself without any determiner, like Gia Cat Luong and bon “four” in examples (56) and (57) above. Demonstrative determiners are expressed by nay “this” and kia “that”. So, for example, common nouns such as con cho “dog” and cai nha “house” are made specific by the addition of one of these determiners: con cho nay “this dog”, cai nha kia “that house”. Possessive determiners can be expressed by cua “of ” as in cua toi “of-I”, cua no “of-he”, cua Lan “of-Lan”. Contrasts of specificity and nonspecificity can be found between example (49) above (repeated here) and examples (60), (61) and (62) below: (49)

Co ay la bac si. she be doctor Carrier Process: relational: ascriptive Attribute “She is a doctor.” (non-specific: She is a member of the class of doctors)

(60)

Co ay la bac si cua toi. she be doctor of I Identified Process: relational: identifying Identifier “She is my (family) doctor.” (specific)

 Minh Duc Thai

(61)

(62)

Co ay la hoc sinh. she be student Carrier Process: relational: ascriptive Attribute “She is a student.” (non-specific: she is a member of the class of students) Co ay la hoc sinh nay. she be student this Identified Process: relational: identifying Identifier “She is this student.” (specific: pointing to a photograph)

In Vietnamese, verbs that realize the identifying process are ones from the “equative” class, such as la “be”, bang/lam thanh “equal”, dinh nghia la “define”, co nghia la “mean”, bieu hien “signify”, bay to “express”, dong vai “play”, dai dien cho “represent”, tuong trung cho “symbolize” and bao gom “include”. Simultaneous with the options ‘ascriptive’ and ‘identifying’ (i.e. the two distinctive modes of being within the expanding relational processes), there are a set of options of relation type. This system consists of three main types: intensive, possessive and circumstantial; which are briefly described below. Intensive processes can be characterized as x la a “x be a”, where x is an entity and a is either a quality that is ascribed to x (in an ascriptive relation process) or an identity that is assigned to x (in an identifying relational process). Intensive processes have already been described and exemplified above (in examples (49) to (62)). Possessive processes can be characterized by x co a “x have a”. This type of relational process construes a relationship of ownership and possession between the participants involved in the process. In addition, they cover a full range of part-whole relations and different ways of extending participants. In ascriptive possessives, common verbs are gom co “consist of ”, thieu “lack”, co “have” and thuoc ve “belong to”, while in identifying possessives, common verbs are lam chu “own” and co duoc/chiem duoc “possess”. Examples are: (63)

Toi co chut it tien. I have a little money Carrier Proc: rel: ascriptive & possessive Attribute “I have a little money.”

(64)

Ho lam chu mot tiem banh mi. they own one bakery Token/Identified Proc: rel: identifying & possessive Value/Identifier “They own a bakery.”

The circumstantial type can be characterized as x o a “x at a”, where o might be one of various prepositions such as trong “in”, voi “with”, ve “about”, etc. – this

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Vietnamese 

type includes various sorts of circumstantial dimensions such as manner, cause, matter, accompaniment or location (Thai 1998). The circumstantial feature may be realized by means of a circumstantial verb within the process, such as tuy thuoc vao “depend on” or mat “take”. Typically, in a circumstantial ascriptive clause, circumstantial elements are conflated with an Attribute realized by a prepositional phrase (a phrase marked by a preposition). The process in circumstantial ascriptives may not be realized by a verb; in such cases there is a Process/Attribute, as in example (65). (65)

Tien o trong tui quan cua tao. money in pocket trousers of I Carrier Process/Attribute “The money is in my trouser pocket.”

(66)

Cuoc hanh trinh mat 3 ngay. trip take 3 day Token/Identified Proc: rel: identifying & circumstantial Value/Identifier “The trip takes three days.”

(67)

Ke hoach do tuy thuoc vao y kien cua anh. plan that depend on opinion of you Token/Identified Proc: rel: identifying & circumstantial Value/Identifier “That plan depends on your opinion.”

The system of relational transitivity described in this section is summarised in the system network in Figure 7.8 below. In this section, I have mapped out a systemic functional description of the transitivity structure of Vietnamese clauses. Every clause in Vietnamese can be

existential

relational

entity existence Process: co “have” event existence Process: xay ray “occur” intensive possessive circumstantial

expanding

ascriptive +Carrier; +Attribute identifying +Identified; +Identifierc

Figure 7.8 The general system of relational transitivity

decoding Identified/Token; Identifier/Value encoding Identified/Value; Identifier/Token

 Minh Duc Thai

seen experientially as a configuration of participants and circumstances around a process. Within the system networks of the process types, there is a great variety of choice in terms of delicacy as to how Vietnamese speakers construe their experience. The primary options in the process type system are ‘material’, ‘mental’, ‘verbal’ and ‘relational’, but this classification can be extended in delicacy, and a detailed account of these transitivity systems can be seen as resources for construing speakers’ experience of the material world and the world of inner consciousness, as well as their experience of symbolization. The systems of directional identification within relational transitivity and circumstantial transitivity (Thai 1998) are not discussed in this section, nor are nominal groups or clause complexes, due to the limited space of the chapter.

. Conclusion In this chapter, I have been concerned with a general theory of lexicogrammar – systemic functional grammatics – and its manifestation in the descriptive interpretation of Vietnamese. The comprehensive description of Vietnamese, which reveals the overall organization of the language as a large set of interrelated options in wording, is based on the systemic functional view of grammar as a resource for wording meanings. The overall framework of the system networks of Vietnamese grammar in this chapter will enable us to analyse discourse in lexicogrammatical terms, to develop a further detailed description of Vietnamese grammar and use it in various applications.

References Primary sources Bang, B. L. (1962). Ky Niem Van Thi Si Hien Dai (In Remembrance of Modern Writers and Poets). Saigon: Xay Dung. Nguyen, D. C. (1993). Kho Tang Truyen Co Tich Viet Nam (The Treasure of Vietnamese Legends). Thanh Pho Ho Chi Minh: Van Nghe. Nguyen, N. B. (1990). Song Ngu: Streamline English. Thanh Pho Ho Chi Minh: Tu Sach Dai Hoc Tong Hop Thanh Pho Ho Chi Minh (Ho Chi Minh City University Press). Nguyen, V. T. (1993). Van Viet Ngu (Spelling Vietnamese). Sydney: Ngoc Chau. Tieng Viet (Vietnamese Textbook Series) (1995). Vietnam: Bo Giao Duc va Dao Tao (Department of Education and Training). Tran, H. V. (1989). Khoa Hoc va Doi Song (Science and Life). USA: Van Hoc.

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Tre Con Khong So Ma – The Children Are not Afraid of Ghosts – by Do Thi Hien Hoa – 1993. Vietnamese Heralds & Vietnamese Daily (Various pieces reprinted) (1994–97). Sydney.

Secondary sources Bateman, J. A. (1989). “Dynamic systemic-functional grammar: a new frontier.” Word, 40(1– 2), 263–286. (Systems, Structures and Discourse: selected papers from the Fifteenth International Systemic Congress). Bateman, J. A., C. Matthiessen, & Zeng Licheng (1994). The Organisation of Multilingual Resources. MS, Department of Linguistics, University of Sydney & GMD/IPSI. Benson, J. D. & W. S. Greaves (Eds.). (1988). Systemic Functional Approaches to Discourse. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Caffarel, A. (1996). Prolegomena to A Systemic-functional Interpretation of French grammar: From Discourse to Grammar and Back. PhD Thesis. University of Sydney. Christie, F. (Ed.). (1988). Social Processes in Education: Proceedings of The First Australian Systemic Network Conference, Deakin University, January. Darwin: Centre for Studies of Language in Education, Northern Territory University. Christie, F. & J. R. Martin (1999). Genre and Institutions: Social Processes in The Workplace and School. London: Cassell. Comrie, B. (1981). Language Universals and Linguistic Typology, Syntax and Morphology. Oxford: Blackwell. Dai, X. N. (1970). Co Nen Xem ‘Cau Don Co Trang Ngu’ La Mot Kieu Cau Ghep Khong? (Would ‘A Simple Sentence With an Adverb’ Be Considered as a Type of Compound Sentence?) Ha Noi: Ngon Ngu So 3. Diep, Q. B. (1984). Cau Tao Cua Cau Don Tieng Viet (The Formation of Simple Sentences in Vietnamese). Ha Noi: DHSP1. Do, H. C. (1983). Ngu Nghia Hoc He Thong Va Ngu Nghia Hoc Hoat Dong (Systematic Semantics and Active Semantics). Ha Noi: Ngon Ngu. Do, H. C. (1987). Co so Ngu Nghia Hoc Tu Vung (The Semantic Basis of Lexis). Ha Noi: Nha Xuat Ban Dai Hoc Va Trung Hoc Chuyen Nghiep. Doan, T. T., K. H. Nguyen, & N. Q. Pham (2003). A Concise Vietnamese Grammar. Hanoi: The Gioi Publishers. Duong, K. D., V. D. Nguyen, & Q. H. Vu (1986). Tu Dien Trai Nghia Tieng Viet (A Vietnamese Dictionary of Antonyms). Ha Noi: Dai Hoc va Trung Hoc Chuyen Nghiep. Eggins, S. (1994). An Introduction to Systemic Functional Linguistics. London: Pinter. Fawcett, R. P. (1987). “The Semantics of Clause and Verb for Relational Processes in English.” In M. A. K. Haliday & R. P. Fawcett (Eds.), New Developments in Systemic Linguistics (p. 130–183). London: Frances Pinter. Firbas, J. (1987). “The Rheme in Functional Sentence Perspective.” In René Dirven & Vilem Fried (Eds.), Functionalism in Linguistics. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Fries, P. (1992). “Structure of Information in Written English Text.” Language Sciences, Vol. 14, No. 4, 461–488. Gerot, L. (1995). Making Sense of Text. Sydney: Gerd Stabler Antipodean Educational Enterprises.

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Gerot, L. & P. Wignell (1994). Making Sense of Functional Grammar. Sydney: Gerd Stabler Antipodean Educational Enterprises. Halliday, M. A. K. (1967/8). “Notes in Transitivity and Theme in English.” Parts 1, 2 & 3. Journal of Linguistics, 3(1), 3(2) & 4(2). Halliday, M. A. K. (1973). Explorations in The Functions of Language. London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. (1975). Learning How to Mean. London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. (1978). Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning. London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. (1984). “Language as Code and Language as Behaviour: A Systemicfunctional Interpretation of the Nature and Ontogenesis of Dialogue.” In R. Fawcett, M. A. K. Halkiday, S. Lamb, & A. Makkai (Eds.), The Semiotics of Language and Culture, Vol. 1. Language as social semiotic (pp. 3–35). London: Pinter. Halliday, M. A. K. (1985). “Dimensions of Discourse Analysis: Grammar.” T. A. Van Dijk (Ed.), Handbook of Discourse Analysis, Vol. 2, Dimensions of Discourse (pp. 29–56). New York: Academic Press. Halliday, M. A. K. (1991). “The Notion of ‘Context’ in Language in Education.” In Thao Le & Mike McCausland (Eds.), Language Education: Interaction & Development. Proceedings of the International Conference Held in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, 30 March – 1 April, 1991. Published by the University of Tasmania at Launceston. Halliday, M. A. K. (1994). An Introduction to Functional Grammar (2nd edition). London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. & R. Hasan (1985/9). Language, Context and Text: a Social Semiotic Perspective. Deakin University Press (Language and Learning Series). Reprinted by Oxford University Press. London, 1989. Halliday, M. A. K. & C. Matthiessen (1999). Construing experience through meaning: a language-based approach to cognition. London: Cassell. Halliday, M. A. K. & C. Matthiessen (1997). Systemic Functional Grammar: A First Step into The Theory. Sydney: Macquarie University. Halliday, M. A. K. & R. Hasan (1976). Cohesion in English. London: Longman. Hasan, R. (1985/9). Linguistics, Language and Verbal Art. Deakin University Press (Language and Learning) (1989 edition). London: Oxford University Press. Hasan, R. & C. Cloran (1990). “A Socio-linguistic Interpretation of Everyday Talk Between Mothers and Children.” In M. A. K. Halliday, J. Gibbons, & H. Nicholas (Eds.), Learning, Keeping and Using language: Selected Papers From the 8th World Congress of Applied Linguistics. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Hasan, R. & P. H. Fries (Eds.). (1995). On Subject And Theme: A Discourse Functional Perspective. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: Benjamins. Hoang, P. (1994). Tu Dien Tieng Viet (A Dictionary of Vietnamese). Ha Noi: Vien Ngon Ngu Hoc. Hoang, V. H. (1982). Ve Cau Truc Nghia Cua Tinh Tu Tieng Viet (Of The Semantic Structure of Adjectives in Vietnamese). Ha Noi: Ngon Ngu So 3. Honey, P. J. (1991). ‘Vietnamese speakers’. In M. Swan & B. Smith (eds.) Learner English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Martin, J. R. (1990). “Interpersonal Grammatization: Mood and Modality in Tagalog.” Philippine Journal of Linguistics, 21(1). Martin, J. R. (1992). English Text: System and Structure. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Martin, J. R. (1996). Transitivity in Tagalog: A Functional Interpretation of Case. In Margaret Berry, Christopher Butler, & Robin Fawcett (Eds.), Grammatical Structure: A Systemic-functional Perspective. (Volume 2 Meaning and Choice in Language: studies for Michael Halliday). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Matthiessen, C. (1995). Lexicogrammatical Cartograhpy: English Systems. Tokyo, Taipei & Dallas: International Language Sciences Publishers. Matthiessen, C. & J. R. Martin (1992). “A Reponse to Huddleston’s Review of Halliday’s Introduction to Functional Grammar.” In Occasional Papers in SystemicLlinguistics, Vol. 5. Matthiessen, C., J. R. Martin, & C. Painter. (1997). Working With Functional Grammar. London: Edward Arnold. Matthiessen, C. & M. A. K. Halliday (forthc.). Outline of Systemic Functional Linguistics. McGregor, W. (1990). A Functional Grammar of Gooniyandi. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Ngu Phap Tieng Viet (Vietnamese Grammar) (1983). Ha Noi: Uy Ban Khoa Hoc Xa Hoi. Nguyen, D. D. (1974). Logich va Sac Thai Lien Tu Tieng Viet (Logics and Aspects of Conjunctions in Vietnamese). Ha Noi: Ngon Ngu. Nguyen, D. D. (1987). Lo Gich Ngu Nghia Cu Phap (Logics – Semantics – Syntax). Ha Noi: Nha Xuat Ban Dai Hoc Va Trung Hoc Chuyen Nghiep. Nguyen, T. G. (1985). Tu Vung Hoc Tieng Viet (Vietnamese Lexicology). Ha Noi: Dai Hoc Va Trung Hoc Chuyen Nghiep. Sadock, J. & A. Zwicky (1985). “Speech Act Distinctions in Syntax.” In T. Shopen (Ed.), Language Typology and Syntactic Description: Clause Structure (pp. 155–197). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Thai, M. D. (1996). A Metafunctional Profile of Vietnamese Clause Grammar: Paper presented at the Systemic-functional Linguistics Workshops – Sydney: Sydney University. Thai, M. D. (1998). A Systemic-functional Interpretation of Vietnamese Grammar. PhD Thesis. Sydney: Macquarie University. Thompson, G. (1996). Introducing Functional Grammar. London: Edward Arnold. Thompson, L. C. A. (1965). Vietnamese Grammar. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Tran, N. T. (1985). He Thong Lien Ket Van Ban Tieng Viet (Cohesion in Vietnamese). Ha Noi: Khoa Hoc Xa Hoi. Vuong, T. D. & J. Moore (1994). Colloquial Vietnamese: A Complete Language Course. England: Routledge.

Chapter 8

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu V. Prakasam Central Institute of English and Foreign Languages, Hyderabad

. Introduction In this chapter I wish to explore the organisation of the clause in Telugu especially with reference to its mood system, its transitivity system and its theme system. Telugu is a Dravidian Language. It belongs to the Central Dravidian subgroup, the other subgroups being South Dravidian (e.g. Kannada, Tamil & Malayalam) and North Dravidian (e.g. Kurukh & Brahui). The other Languages in the Central Dravidian subgroup are of non-literate societies (see Subrahmanyam 1977, and Caldwell 1856). Telugu is mainly spoken in the State of Andhra Pradesh in the South Central part of India. Telugu is also spoken in the neighbouring states – Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Maharashtra and Orissa. It is spoken by migrants in South Africa, Mauritius, Fiji Islands, Malaysia, Singapore and the United States of America. There are about eighty million Telugu speakers and seventy three million of them are in Andhra Pradesh. The earliest written records of Telugu are of the second century BC especially used to record names. Numerous inscriptions written in Telugu are available from the sixth century AD. From the twelfth century onwards literary and grammatical treatises started being composed. On the basis of the materials available some scholars have divided the history of the Telugu language into six periods (see Ranganadhacharyulu 1987; Ramakrishna Reddy 1986):

 V. Prakasam

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Early Old Telugu Late Old Telugu Early Middle Telugu Late Middle Telugu Early Modern Telugu Modern Telugu

200AD–700AD 700AD–1200AD 1201AD–1400AD 1401AD–1600AD 1601AD–1900AD 1901 onwards

Regional variations give us the following picture of dialects and subdialects (see also Venkateshwara Sastry 1994): 1. Coastal dialect i. North Coastal

ii. Central Coastal

iii. South Coastal 2. Rayalaseema dialect i. Southern Rayalaseema ii. Central Rayalaseema iii. Western Rayalaseema 3. Telangana dialect i. Central Telangana ii. North Telangana

iii. South Telangana iv. East Telangana

Districts of Andhra Pradesh Vijayanagaram Visakhapatnam Srikakulam West Godavari East Godavari Krishna, Guntur Khammam1 Prakasam, Nellore Chittoor Cuddapah, Kurnool Anantapur Medak Ranga Reddy Hyderabad Adilabad Karimnagar Nizamabad Mahaboobnagar Warangal, Nalgonda

The educated variety of the central coastal district has acquired the status of the standard dialect. This dialect one can say is intelligible to more people than any one given dialect. Telangana dialect has more Urdu words in it than other dialects. Besides, it has certain archaic forms. Southern Rayalaseema dialect has some Tamil words in it. The Western Rayalaseema dialect shares many lexical items with Kannada. Though a Dravidian language, Telugu has absorbed from Sanskrit a good number of lexical items and also phonological features like aspiration (see Lisker

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

1963; also Prakasam 1968, 1970, 1972). Modern Spoken Telugu uses a good number of English words like guarantee, road, bus, car, school, doctor, bucket, ticket, train, donation and promotion. Being, as it were, the National Foreign Language, English has made serious inroads into Telugu, contributing lexical items and also phonological features like friction as in ‘f ’ of coffee.

. Metafunctional preview Linguistic events perform certain functions and these are reflected in the lexicogrammar and phonology of the language. The different subfunctions of our model and their systemic reflections can be presented as follows: Function 1. Ideational 2. Interpersonal 3. Textual

i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi.

Subfunction Experiential Logical Interactional Attitudinal Thematic Informational

Systems transitivity bondage mood phatic theme focus

The logical function is performed by ‘adverbials’ and ‘nonfinite verbals’ in Telugu. Where we have cases of ‘verbless clauses’ a verbal element is brought in to reflect nonfiniteness. ‘Bondage’ we use here to subsume both paratactic and hypotactic relations. We will now discuss some of the theoretical points that are used in a detailed description of mood, transitivity, theme and focus in Telugu clause. We will start with an interesting phenomenon that differentiates Telugu from English. Syntactically the active-passive distinction available in English is reflected in Telugu as operative-receptive distinction. This distinction is discussed in detail in Halliday (1967–1968). This we discuss in Section 8.2.2 with special reference to its manifestation in Telugu. Agreement between Subject and verb is morphologically realised as Gender-Number-Person (GNP) reflector. Since the reflection is of the Subject we call it here Subject Reflex (SR). In some languages it is Object that is reflected and in some it may be both Subject and Object. In Telugu gender is reflected in the verb only when the Subject is the third person singular pronoun or a singular noun. Another concept that needs explication is the trifurcation of themes – ideational theme, interpersonal theme, and textual theme. Within ideational theme we can distinguish between experiential and logical themes (see Matthiessen 1992: 50–52, and Rose in this volume). This we discuss in Section 8.2.3.

 V. Prakasam

Let’s now have a brief preview of Telugu clauses. We take three types of clauses for the preview. First we will take a verbless clause reflecting relationships between two nominals. (1)

a. n¯enu a¯ me annanu. I her elder brother SR “I am her elder brother.”

b. nuvvu evarivi? You who SR? “Who are you?”

Here the Complement reflects the Subject. This SR phenomenon is absent in the Complement when the Subject is in the third person singular, pronoun or noun: (1) c.

(2)

ratan a¯ me anna. Ratan her elder brother “He is her elder brother.”

a. p¯alu l¯evu. Milk aren’t SR “Milk isn’t available.”

b. p¯alu unn¯ay¯a? milk are Qn? “Is there some milk?”

In (2) we have an existential clause. In Telugu p¯alu (= milk) is always in the plural with an extremely rarely used p¯ayi as its singular counterpart. m¯a anna ninna k¯aru konn¯adŸ u. our elder brother yesterday car bought SR “My brother bought a car yesterday.” b. m¯a anna ninna ¯emi konn¯adŸ u? our elder brother yesterday what bought “What did my brother buy yesterday?”

(3) a.

In (3a) and (3b) we have actional clauses. In the three clauses (1, 2, 3) we have seen above there is Subject-Reflex which gives ‘finiteness’ to the verbal group or complement and thence to the clause. If the clauses are prosodically marked for fall or rise tone, the finiteness is reinforced by the free tone group tone. If the tone is ‘rise-fall’ or ‘fall-rise’ the tone group will have the ‘expectant tone group’ status. The grammatical ‘finiteness’ and phonological ‘freedom’ are complementary, the latter having superimposing value in complex cases. (For details see Prakasam 1972: 62–77 and also 1979: 70–72). The distinction of ‘polarisable’ and ‘nonpolarisable’ seems to be important in the discussion of mood. Only some clauses which can be characterised by ‘true/false’ distinction as to their ‘process’ are polarisable; the others are not polarisable. The polarisable clauses are either negative or positive. The positive form is the unmarked form and the negative form is marked by the presence of the negative marker (Section 8.2.1). The distinction of ‘polite’ and ‘neutral’ is characterised

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

by the presence or absence of the polite vocative suffix. This again is possible only in the case of polarisable clauses.

. mood .. The system of mood: Realizational patterns mood in Telugu has special realisational values because the language is very rich in ‘verbless’ clauses. It doesn’t have Subject–Finite ordering as found in English. Instead it has three distinct realisational values: (i) verbless clauses: finiteness is phonologised (tone) (ii) verbed clauses: GNP (gender–number–person) marker reflects ‘finiteness’ (iii) interrogative yes/no type clauses: a¯ (interrogative particle) reflects ‘finiteness’ Let’s see how these choices are realized structurally: (4) m¯a tammudŸ u vak˜ilu [] our younger brother lawyer (fall-tone) “My brother is a lawyer.” (5) atanu donga? [] that he thief (rise-tone in echo question) “Is he a thief?” (6) p˜itŸ aru donga k¯adu [] Peter thief is not “Peter is not a thief.” (7) p˜itŸ aru donga k¯adu? [] Peter thief is not? (rise) “Peter is not a thief?” Clauses (5) and (7) are echo questions or surprise-expressing questions marked by a rise-tone. If verbless clauses are to be pronounced without a rise-tone or a falltone we will have instances of incomplete clauses – so nonfinite. In second and first person Subjects the complement can be marked for ‘Subject–Reflex’. (8) nivu dongavu thee thief SR “You are a thief.” (9) n¯enu d¯ansarnu I dancer SR “I am a dancer.”

 V. Prakasam

(10) m¯emu dongalamu we thieves SR “We are thieves.” (11) m˜iru dongalu you thieves (No. SR for II person plural subject) “You are thieves.” Finiteness in ‘verbed clauses’ is marked by the Subject-Reflex in the VGp. (12) venkayya annam vandŸ 5dŸ u Venkayya rice cooked SR “Venkayya cooked some rice.” (13) lata oka manˇci navala ra:sindi Lata one good novel wrote SR “Lata has written a good novel.” In a verbless clause, the interrogative particle a¯ is added to the Complement irrespective of its place in the linear sequence of the clause: (14) nivu dongav¯a? thee thief (Int)? “Are you a thief?” (15) donga niv¯a thief thee (Int.)? “Are you a thief?” (16) niv¯a donga? you (Int.) thief? “Are you the one who is a thief.” (17) dongav¯a nivu? thief (Int.) thee? “A thief you are?” In a nominalised construction with Identified–Identifier (Value-Token) structure, the latter is the complement and the interrogative particle is added to it. In a verbed construction a¯ will be added to the element which is being questioned. Question-words like evaru (who), ¯emitŸ i (what), ¯edi (which), eppudŸ u (when), ekkadŸ a (where), enduku (why) occur in the same place where their non-interrogative lexical counterparts (unmarked New) occur – i.e., preverbal position. If it is a verbless clause the final word will be the question word. (18) a¯ me m¯a tŸ ˜iˇcaru that she our teacher “She is our teacher.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

(19) a¯ me evaru? that she who “Who is she?” (20) a¯ me intŸ iki velŸ lŸ indi that she home to went “She went home.” (21) a¯ me ekkadŸ iki velŸ lŸ indi that she where to went “Where did she go?” (22) intŸ iki evaru velŸ lŸ 5ru? home to who went? “Who has gone home?” (23) intŸ iki a¯ me velŸ lŸ indi home to that she went “She has gone home.” Halliday (1994: 75) makes an important distinction between ‘not’ as part of Finite and ‘not’ as part of Residue in the following clauses. (24) you may not leave before the end (‘not’ part of Finite) (are not allowed to) (25) you may not stay right to the end (are allowed not to) (‘not’ as part of Residue) A similar interesting distinction is available in the use of negative in Telugu. (26) atanu a¯ visŸ ayam ˇceppal¯edu that he that fact saying no (= did not say) “He didn’t tell (us) that.” (27) atanu a¯ visŸ ayam ˇcepp5dŸ u k¯adu that he that fact said (SR) not “He did not tell (us) that.” In (27) the clause is ‘finite’ without k¯adu. Though k¯adu has fixed ‘SR’ form here in some dialects it is subject-dependent. In (26) the clause is incomplete without l¯edu and ˇceppa is a nonfinite oblique form. The negative is appended to the verbal element in both the clauses. In (27) the finite is reflected in two places–and the second one takes the negative element with it. In (26) the negative element is part of the proposition. The systemic choices in the rhetorical function of language constitute the mood system. The first distinction is of major and minor clause. The major clause leads us onto the initial distinction of polarisable and nonpolarisable. In other

 V. Prakasam

Figure 8.1 Finiteness Clause

Proposition

atanu

Finite

¿ Ÿ avisayam

æ 5du cepp Ÿ

¿ kadu

Figure 8.2 Finiteness in two places

words, the distinction of positive and negative are available only in certain types of clauses, not in all types. Polarisable clauses are either imperative or indicative.

.. Polarisable clauses: Imperative First let us take the imperative clauses. They are of two types: addressee-based and addressor-based. The imperatives and indicatives also can be positive/negative and polite/neutral. Let’s look at a few examples: (28) mammalni intŸ iki velŸ lŸ a nivvandŸ i us home to go let vocative (+polite) “Please let us go home.” (imperative: addressor-based : positive: polite) (29) m˜iru intŸ iki velŸ lŸ andŸ i you home to go vocative (+polite) “You please go home.” (imperative: addressee-based : positive: polite) (30) mammalni intŸ iki velŸ lŸ anivvakandŸ i us home to go let not vocative (+polite) “Don’t let us go home.” (imperative: addressor-based: negative)

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

.. Polarisable clauses: Indicative Indicative clauses are either declarative or interrogative. The declaratives share with other polarisable clauses the secondary distinctions: positive/negative, polite/ neutral. (31) ˇchandrab¯abu n¯ayudŸ u telivigalav¯adŸ u Chandrababu Naidu intelligent fellow “Chandrababu Naidu is an intelligent fellow.” (declarative : positive : neutral) (32) udayabh¯anu manˇciv¯adŸ u k¯adu Udayabhanu good fellow not “Udayabhanu is not a good fellow.” (declarative : negative : neutral) (33) atanu c¯al¯a manˇci v¯adŸ andŸ i that he very good fellow voc “He is a very good fellow (Sir/Madam).” (declarative : positive : polite) Interrogatives are of four types: question word interrogatives, yes-no interrogatives, tag-interrogatives and echo-interrogatives. (34) mukhyamantri nell¯uru eppudŸ u velŸ t¯aru? Chief Minister Nellore when go will “When will the Chief Minister go to Nellore.” (interrogative : question word : positive : neutral) (35) manav¯alŸ lŸ u enduku r¯al¯edu? Our folks why come not? “How come our folks haven’t come?” (interrogative : question word : positive : neutral) (36) m˜i akkayya bomb¯ayi velŸ lŸ 5r¯a? Your elder sister Bombay went to? “Has your sister gone to Bombay?” (interrogative : yes/no : positive) (37) m˜i n¯annag¯aru ink¯a nidra l¯eval¯ed¯a? Your father (honorific) yet sleep got up no + a? “Hasn’t your father woken up yet?” (interrogative : yes/no : negative)

 V. Prakasam

(38) m˜i amma ninna velŸ lŸ indi {gad¯a / g¯a / gad¯u}? Your mother yesterday went right? “Your mother went yesterday, didn’t she?” (interrogative : tag : positive) (The three forms of ‘tag’ are from the same morphological source and show some subtle differences in meaning which we are not going to discuss here.) (39) ippudŸ u evaru vast¯aru [ ](fall–rise) Now who come will? “Who will come now? (No one)” (interrogative : question word : rhetorical : positive) The echo questions are structurally declarative and phonologically interrogative, with a rise tone (e.g. 7).

.. Nonpolarisable clauses As we have already mentioned above declaratives, interrogatives and imperatives are all polarisable. The nonpolarisable clauses are optatives, exclamations, cautions, hortatives and suggestions. For example: (40) kinda padŸ ¯evu j¯agratta down fall caution! “Beware, you may fall down.” (anticipatory : cautioning) (41) r¯epu ˇc¯edduvu (ippudŸ oddu) tomorrow do may, (now needn’t) “You may do tomorrow (not now).” (anticipatory : suggestive : nonhortative) (42) sinim¯aku velŸ d¯am padandŸ i cinema to go (we) move (voc) “Come, let’s go to the movies.” (anticipatory : suggestive : hortative) (43) atanu enta tŸ h¯ivig¯a untŸ a¯ dŸ ani that he how much dignified be will + quotative marker “How dignified he is, indeed!” (exclamatory : marked) (44) atanu enta manˇciv¯adŸ u [ ] that he how much good fellow

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

“What a nice fellow he is!” (exclamatory : unmarked) In (44) the exclamatory signification is realized by a ‘rise-fall’ tone. If it were to be a simple question the tone (e.g. 7) will be a ‘rise’. (45) n˜i amma kadŸ upu callagundŸ a thy mother’s womb cool be “May you live long.” (optative) (46) r¯amudŸ (¯o/¯u) RamudŸ u + vocative marker (length with raising/only length) “Ramudu!” (vocative : attention-focussing : nominal) (47) (i)

or¯e (ii) os¯e eh woman eh fellow (+ masculine) (impolite) (impolite) (iii) ¯em¯e (iv) ¯emandŸ i (what = andi) (what + e) “Hello sir(s) / madam(s).” (vocative : attention focussing: nonnominal)

(48) (i) idig¯o (this see!) “Look here!” (vocative: attention-seeking)

(ii) adig¯o (that see!) “Look here!”

(49) (i)

(ii) k¯adu (becomes not) “not” (iv) sar¯e “right”

(50) (i)

(ii) vaddu – don’t (need not)

awnu (becomes) “yes” (iii) al¯ag¯e “(that way)” (nonvocative : response) l¯edu (be not)(existence) (iii) k¯adu (is not) (becomes not/identification) (nonvocative: elliptical)

In clauses (14) to (17) we talked of the interrogative particle a¯ in the context of verbless clauses. In the case of verbed clauses, a¯ goes with the verb.

 V. Prakasam

(51) monna a¯ abb¯ayi vaˇcˇc5dŸ a¯ ? day before yesterday that boy came + a¯ “The day before yesterday did that boy come?” (52) vaˇcˇc5dŸ a¯ a¯ abb¯ayi monna? came + a¯ that boy day before yesterday? “Did that boy come the day before yesterday?” If the interrogated part is any element other than the verb (process), nominalisation sets in: (53) a¯ abb¯ay¯a monna vaˇcˇcindi that boy + a¯ day before yesterday come one “Was it that boy that came the day before yesterday?” (54) monn¯a a¯ abb¯ayi vaˇcˇcindi? Day before yesterday + a¯ that boy come one “Was it the day before yesterday that boy came?” The nominalised part is the Identified and its unmarked placement is before the Identifier. Clauses (53) and (54) have marked linearity. What is ideationally Identifier is informationally New and is interpersonally the interrogated element. These choices of ‘mood’ at the rank of clause can be systemicised as in Figure 8.3. The options captured in this diagram have been discussed above.

.. Dialogic text illustration of mood We will now take a dialogue from a book and illustrate mood distinctions. Text (55) is form Ranganayakamma’s Telugu n¯erpadŸ am el¯a (How to teach Telugu) (1991: 8): pillal¯u! (b) manam m¯atŸ a¯ dŸ e bh¯asŸ a ¯em children we (+inclusive) speaking language what bh¯asŸ a? language “Children! What is the language we speak?” (ii) telugu “Telugu.” (iii) malŸ lŸ i ˇceppandŸ i again say voc (pl) “Say that again.” (iv) telugu “Telugu.”

(55) (i)

(a)

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

Figure 8.3 mood system

˜i patŸ am p¯er¯emitŸ i? this chart name what “What is this chart?” (vi) “- - - - ” (v)

(vii) (a)

(b)

appudŸ ¯e mariˇcip¯oy¯ar¯a already forgot SR + a¯ “Have you already forgotten?” (i) aksŸ ar¯ala patŸ am! letters of chart “It is the alphabet Chart.”

 V. Prakasam

(ii) ippudŸ u ˇceppandŸ i now say “Say now.” (viii) aksŸ ar¯ala patŸ am letters of chart “Alphabet chart.” ˜ patŸ aml¯o unnavanni ¯emitŸ i? (ix) i this what in being all what? “What all do we have in this chart?” (x) aksŸ ar¯alu letters (xi) malŸ lŸ i again (say it again) (xiii) aksŸ ar¯alu (letters) This text starts with a vocative clause (55 ia) – pillal¯u, a nominal vocative. The next clause is an interrogative clause with a question word ¯em asking for identification. The question word here is a Modifier to the Headword bh¯asŸ a. This clause is a verbless clause. manam m¯atŸ l¯adŸ e bh¯asŸ a we speaking language Modifer Headword NGP (rank shifted) Identified

bh¯asŸ a ¯em what language Modifer Headword NGP Indentifier Qn.

The next clause (55 ii) is a minor clause expressing elliptically only the New element. This is an answer to the question in (55 ib) and it is the identifier element. Elliptical clauses are used very frequently in Telugu. Example (55 iii) is an imperative clause where the vocative suffix andŸ i is added as the ‘addressee’ is plural – the school children are being addressed in general. This clause has the first verb used as a predicator (ˇceppu + andŸ i). The verbal element used in (55 ib) is a participial Modifier (m¯atŸ l¯adŸ ¯e) not a Predicator. Example (55 iv) is like (55 ii), and again has no verbal element. Example (55 iii) is a yes/no (polar) interrogative, which is so identified by the presence of a¯ at the end of the group being questioned – here the predicator. In (vii a) the subject is unexpressed, but recoverable as m˜iru (plural you) on the basis of SR ‘r’ which is part of -r¯a at the end of the clause. In many response clauses objects and subjects are deleted. They can be recovered from the context and subjects can also be retraced with the help of SRs.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

In this text (ii), (iv), (viib), (viii), (x), (xii) are all declaratives. In the case of elliptical clauses, we have besides declaratives an imperative (x).

. transitivity Experientially Telugu clauses are of five classes. i. ii. iii. iv. v.

Identificatory Possessive Mental process Existential Material process

(i) The ‘identificatory’ give Value to a Token, identify an Identified, or ascribe a quality to a Carrier. (ii) The ‘possessive’ clauses express the relationship between the ‘possessor’ and the ‘possessed’. (iii) ‘Mental’ process clauses reflect the processes of perception, feeling, and thinking. (iv) ‘Existential’ clauses indicate the presence of a ‘thing’ in a ‘location’ or ‘as a thing’. (v) ‘Material’ process clauses capture the process on or of a thing. Before going into the details of these clauses we will make a clear distinction between the concept of ‘voice’ and the concept of ‘orientation’. The ‘active-passive’ distinction available in the verbal group of English is absent in Telugu. But the distinction made by Halliday (1967–1968) of operative–receptive orientation at the rank of clause is very valuable. Operative clauses are clauses where the experiential Theme is the ‘effecter’ of a process. In the case of a receptive clause, the experiential Theme is the ‘affected’. Interestingly this distinction is available in all the constructions except the eventive clauses which also ‘take recourse’ to nominalisation to become identificatory clauses and then ‘enjoy’ the distinction of orientation. We have two types of receptive clauses – ‘case-marked’ and ‘theme-based’. The casemarked receptive clauses will have an unmarked Theme of a nuclear participant which is in non-nominative case. The theme-based receptive clauses will have the ‘affected’ or ‘object’ (goods) or ‘identifier’ as the marked theme of the clause. We then end up with a variety of clauses of receptive-orientation. Let’s illustrate this distinction. rang¯a a¯ pedda illu amm5dŸ u [operative] Ranga that big house sold SR “Ranga sold that big house.” (ii) a¯ pedda illu rang¯a amm5dŸ u [receptive] that big house Ranga sold SR “That big house has been sold by Ranga.”

(56) (i)

 V. Prakasam

In the first clause (56 i) we are talking about ‘Ranga’. In the second clause (56 ii) we are talking about a¯ pedda illu. The second clause achieves ‘affected’ thematisation without a passive verbal group. In the following sections we illustrate this distinction further.

.. Identificatory constructions Identificatory clauses in Telugu, as in the case of other Dravidian languages and also Russian, are generally verbless. These clauses are positive and ‘tenseless’. When tense needs to be marked the clause becomes material process (eventive) clause. A negative clause adds a fixed negative form k¯adu (not) which etymologically is related to the verb agu (to happen, to become). A marked positive clause will become a verbed clause. Let’s examine the following: atanu prinsip¯alandŸ i that he principal voc (+polite / plural) “He is the Principal, sir/madam.” (ii) prinsip¯alandŸ i atanu principal sir he “The principal he is.”

(57) (i)

(58) (i)

a¯ yana prinsip¯alu k¯adu that he (+ polite) principal not “He is not the principal.” (ii) prinsip¯alu k¯adandŸ i a¯ yana principal not sir he “The principal he is not.” rang¯a r¯au manˇcivadŸ ur¯a Ranga Rao good fellow voc (nonpolite) “Ranga Rao is a good fellow.” (ii) manˇciv¯adŸ ur¯a rang¯a r¯au good fellow +voc Rang Rao “Good fellow Rang Rao is.”

(59) (i)

Clauses (57–59) are verbless clauses with Identified–Identifier structure (Carrier – Attribute). Here the Attribute is always a noun or a nominalised adjective. Clauses (60–63) express kinship relationship of two different varieties. Here we have two types of possessives – genitive possessives (60) and dative possessives (61–63). With dative possessive, the clauses could be verbless (61) or verbed (62). In clause (63) the negative verb reflects the Subject.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

atanu n¯a tammudŸ ¯e that he my young brother (emphatic particle) “He is my brother.” (ii) n¯a tammudŸ ¯e atanu my younger brother that he “My brother he is.”

(60) (i)

atanu n¯aku tammudŸ andŸ i that he me to young brother voc (+polite) “He is a younger brother of mine.” (ii) n¯aku tammudŸ andŸ i atanu me to younger brother + voc (+polite) “Of mine he is younger brother.”

(61) (i)

ramanŸ ayya n¯aku tammudŸ u avut¯adŸ u Ramanayya me to younger brother happens SR “Ramanayya happens to be a brother of mine.” (ii) n¯aku tammudŸ u avut¯adŸ u ramanŸ ayya me to younger brother happens Ramanayya “Of mine a brother Ramanayya happens to be.” (63) (i) s˜inu n¯aku tammudŸ u k¯adŸ u Seenu me to younger brother not SR “Seenu is not a brother of mine.” (ii) n¯aku s˜inu tammudŸ u k¯adŸ u me to Seenu younger brother not SR “Of mine a brother Seenu is not.”

(62) (i)

The English equivalents of 61 (ii), 62 (ii) and 63 (ii) are not totally idiomatic but they reflect the semantic structure of Telugu clauses. a¯ abb¯ayi v¯alŸ lŸ a b¯ab¯ayil¯a untŸ a¯ dŸ u that boy their uncle like be will SR “That boy resembles his uncle.” (ii) v¯alŸ lŸ a b¯ab¯ayil¯a untŸ a¯ dŸ u a¯ abb¯ayi their uncle like he will that boy “He resembles his uncle, that boy.”

(64) (i)

atanu ippatŸ iki manˇciv¯adŸ u ayin¯adŸ u that he now to good fellow became SR “He has now become a good fellow.” (ii) ippatŸ iki manˇciv¯adŸ u ayin¯adŸ u atanu now to good fellow became SR that he “Now a good fellow has he become.”

(65) (i)

 V. Prakasam

Clauses (58) (i) and (ii) are negative clauses where k¯adu with fixed SR negative identity. Clauses (60) (i) and (ii) show that the relationship is direct whereas in clauses (61) (i) and (ii), the relationship may be ‘indirect’ or ‘emphasised’ though direct. Clause (61 i) has three elements in it: NGP NGP dative NGP Kin Kinship bearer Kinship Identified Identifier This clause has two marked counterparts: positive (62) and negative (63). In these two clauses the verb occurs with its GNP marker dŸ u. Clause (65) is no longer an ‘identificatory’ structure but an eventive structure (material process) where process is fully ‘tensed’. In (62) and (63) the verb expresses frozen state – positive in (62) and negative in (63). In (61) the state is unexpressed. Clause (64) comes under existential, hence not discussed here. In (65) the state is replaced by a ‘process’. In (57) to (60) the state is one of equation. In positive clauses (57, 59, 60) the equation is ‘unmarked’ or realised by a zero and in the negative clause (58) it is marked by a fossilised negative verb. We call it fossilised because it doesn’t reflect the GNP status of the subject. In (62–63) the GNP marker (subject-reflex) is present but no tense variation is possible – hence frozen. The clauses marked (i) are operative and the clauses marked (ii) are receptive; here the receptive orientation is theme-based. With a noneffector at the thematic position, the receptive clauses achieve the pragmatic effect of passive clauses.

Figure 8.4 Identificatory clause system

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

The system illustrated by these clauses is the ‘identificatory’ sub-system of the transitivity system, shown below. (i) (ii) (iii) (iv) (v) (vi) (vii) (viii) (ix) (x) (xi) (xii)

Examples Simple, positive, unmarked, operative Simple, positive, unmarked, receptive Simple, negative, operative Simple, negative, receptive Qualified, direct, positive, operative Qualified, direct, positive, receptive Qualified, indirect, positive, unmarked, operative Qualified, indirect, positive, unmarked, receptive Qualified, indirect, positive, marked, operative Qualified, indirect, positive, marked, receptive Qualified, indirect, negative, operative Qualified, indirect, negative, receptive

Options 57 (i), 59 (i) 57 (ii) 59 (ii) 58 (i) 58 (ii) 60 (i) 60 (ii) 61 (i) 61 (ii) 62 (i) 62 (ii) 63 (i) 63 (ii)

The qualified identification brings in ‘direct’ or ‘indirect’ relationship. Here it could be nonkinship too. (66) atanu n¯a b¯asu that he my boss “He is my boss.” (67) atanu n¯aku b¯asu that he me to boss “He is the boss of mine.” (68) atanu n¯aku b¯asu avut¯adŸ u that he me to boss happens SR “He happens to be the boss of mine.” This relationship is different from possessive relationship where the clause starts with kinship possessor in the dative case. Here the relationship is identified whereas in possessive clause the kinship possession is just stated.

.. Possessive constructions Possessive clauses also give us ‘verbless’ and ‘verbed’ constructions. Here verblessness is restricted to kinship possession of a positive clause. The negative element is fully marked for GNP and has the base l¯e (= no, be no). In certain cases the positive verb undŸ u (= to be) will be expressed. Under possessive constructions can be subsumed kinship, property and ailment phenomena. Operative and receptive distinction is available here too.

 V. Prakasam

ataniki mugguru kodŸ ukulu him to three sons “He has three sons.” (ii) mugguru kodŸ ukulu ataniki three sons him to “Three sons are there of his.”

(69) (i)

ataniki k¯utulŸ lŸ u unn¯aru him to daughters are SR “He has daughters.” (ii) k¯utulŸ lŸ u unn¯aru ataniki daughters are SR him to “Daughters are there of his.”

(70) (i)

ataniki k¯utulŸ lŸ u l¯eru him to daugters no SR “He has no daughters.” (ii) k¯utulŸ lŸ u l¯eru ataniki daughters no SR him to “Daughters aren’t there of his.”

(71) (i)

Clauses (69–71) are ‘dative clauses’ expressing the stated kinship. We have the verbal element in negative constructions (71) and absolutive constructions (70). The positive constructions can be optionally ‘verbed’, i.e., the verb undŸ u (= be) will be used in its ‘present’ form (+SR). This is different from the use of undŸ u which we discuss in Section 8.2.2.4. ataniki m¯udŸ u ilŸ lŸ u unn¯ayi him to three houses are SR “He has (owns) three houses.” (ii) m¯udŸ u ilŸ lŸ u unn¯ayi ataniki three houses are SR him to “Three houses are there of his.”

(72) (i)

ataniki oka illu g¯udŸ a l¯edu him to one house even no SR “He doesn’t have (own) even one house.” (ii) oka illu g¯udŸ a l¯edu ataniki one house even no SR him to “Not even one house is there of his.”

(73) (i)

Clauses (72) and (73) express immovable property ownership whereas clauses (74– 76) express movable property possession (-daggara) / ownership (-ki).

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

(74) (i)

atani him

(ii)

(75) (i)

(ii)

(76) (i)

(ii)

daggara ki at to

c¯al¯a dŸ abbu undi lot

money is

“He has a lot of money with him.” c¯al¯a dŸ abbu undi atani daggara ki lot money is him at to “A lot of money is there with him.” atani daggara dŸ abbu l¯edu ki him at money no to “He doesn’t have money.” dŸ abbu l¯edu atani daggara ki “There’s no money with him.” atani daggara m¯udŸ u k¯arlu unn¯ayi ki him at three cars are to “He has three cars with him.” m¯udŸ u k¯arlu unn¯ayi atani daggara ki three cars are him at to “There are three cars with him.”

As mentioned above, -daggara (= near) expresses possession relationship without reference to ownership whereas ki (= to) expresses ownership. Clauses (77) to (90) are ailment clauses. (77) (i)

padminiki jwaram Padmini to fever “Padmini has a fever.”

 V. Prakasam

(ii) jwaram padminiki fever Padmini to “She’s a fever, Padmini.” (78) (i)

padminiki jawaram l¯edu no SR Padmini to fever “Padmini has no fever.” (ii) jwaram l¯edu padminiki fever no SR Padmini to “She’s no fever, Padmini.”

(79) (i)

r¯aj¯aku jwarang¯a undi Raja to fever -ly is SR “Raja has got a fever.” (ii) jwarang¯a undi r¯aj¯aku fever -ly is SR Raja to “He’s got a fever, Raja.” r¯aj¯aku taif¯ayidŸ u Raja to typhoid “Raja has typhoid.” (ii) taif¯ayidŸ u r¯aj¯aku “He has typhoid, Raja.”

(80) (i)

r¯aj¯aku taif¯ayidŸ u k¯adu Raja to typhoid not Raja’s (fever) is not typhoid. (ii) taif¯ayidŸ u k¯adu r¯aj¯aku typhoid not is Raja to “It’s not typhoid, Raja’s (fever).”

(81) (i)

82 (i) and (ii) are not acceptable expressions (see below). r¯aj¯aku taif¯ayidŸ ug¯a undi Raja to typhoid-ly is SR “Raja happens to have typhoid fever.” (ii) taif¯ayidŸ ug¯a undi r¯aj¯aku typhoid-ly is SR Raja “Typhoid happens to be Raja’s (fever).”

*(82) (i)

r¯aj¯aku taif¯ayidŸ u l¯a undi Raja to typhoi like is SR “Raja’s fever seems to be typhoid.” (ii) taif¯ayidŸ u l¯a undi r¯aj¯aku typhoid like is SR Raja to “It seems to be typhoid, Raja’s fever.”

(83) (i)

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

R¯aj¯aku taif¯ayidŸ u l¯a l¯edu Raja to typhoid like no SR “Raja’s (fever) doesn’t seem to typhoid.” (ii) taif¯ayidŸ u l¯a l¯edu r¯aj¯aku typhoid like no Raja to “It doesn’t seem to be typhoid, Raja’s fever.”

(84) (i)

Clauses (77) to (79) talks of ‘-specific’ ailment (fever) where as (80 to 84) talk of ‘+ specific’ ailment (typhoid). Similarly (85–86) refer to ‘cough’ and (87–90) refer to Tuberculosis. (85) (i)

a¯ pedd¯ayanaku daggu (g¯a undi) that elderly person to cough (-ly is SR) “That elderly person has cough.” (ii) daggu (g¯a undi) a¯ pedd¯ayanaku cough (-ly is SR) that elderly person to “Cough has affected that elderly person.”

(86) (i)

a¯ pedd¯ayanaku daggu l¯edu that elderly person to cough no SR “That elderly person has no cough.” (ii) daggu l¯edu a¯ pedd¯ayanaku cough no that elderly person to “Cough hasn’t affected that elderly person.” a¯ pedd¯ayanaku ksŸ aya that elderly person to T.B. “That elderly person has T.B.” (ii) ksŸ aya a¯ pedd¯ayanaku T.B. that elderly person to “T.B. has affected that elderly person.”

(87) (i)

*(88) (i)

a¯ pedd¯ayanaku ksŸ ayag¯a undi that elderly person to T.B. -ly is SR

(88) is not an acceptable expression. a¯ pedd¯ayanaku ksŸ aya l¯a undi that elderly person to T.B. -like “That elderly person’s ailment seems to be T.B.” (ii) ksŸ aya l¯a undi a¯ pedd¯ayanaka T.B. -like is that elderly person to “T.B. seems to be that elderly person’s ailment.”

(89) (i)

 V. Prakasam

a¯ pedd¯ayanaku ksŸ aya k¯adu that elderly person to T.B. not “That elderly person’s ailment doesn’t seem to be T.B.” (ii) ksŸ aya k¯adu a¯ pedd¯ayanaku T.B. not that elderly person to “T.B. is not that elderly person’s ailment.”

(90) (i)

The ailment examples (77–90) show that Telugu makes a clear grammatical distinction between ‘+specific’ and ‘–specific’ ailments: (i) ‘+specific’ ailment doesn’t take a verb in the positive; (ii) ‘–specific’ ailment when modified by -g¯a colligates with undi; (iii) ‘+specific ailments’ do not take -g¯a (-ly) with them (e.g. (83) and (88)) but take -l¯a (-like) and the negative form is k¯adu (not), not l¯edu (no). Though here we have only verbless clauses, verb comes in when the onset of ailment is to be mentioned. (90) (iii) ataniki jwaram vaˇcˇcindi him to fever came “He got a fever.” (iv) ataniki jalubu ˇc¯esindi him to cold made “He caught a cold.” (v) ataniki taif¯ayidŸ u vaˇcˇcindi him to typhoid came “He got typhoid.” (vi) ataniki jilalu putŸ tŸ 5yi him to itches born “He developed an itch.” These clauses illustrate the possessive subsystem of the transitivity system. Options available (i) kinship, numerical, positive, operative (ii) kinship, numerical, positive, receptive (iii) kinship, numerical, existential, positive, operative (iv) kinship, numerical, existential, positive, receptive (v) kinship, numerical, existential, negative, operative (vi) kinship, numerical, existential, negative, receptive (vii) property, alienable, positive, operative (viii) property, alienable, positive, receptive (ix) property, alienable, negative, operative (x) property, alienable, negative, receptive (xi) property, inalienable, positive, operative (xii) property, inalienable, positive, receptive

69 69 70 70 71 71 74 74 75 75 72 72

(i) (ii) (i) (ii) (i) (ii) (i) (ii) (i) (ii) (i) (ii)

(–verb) (–verb) (+verb) (+verb) (+verb) (+verb) (daggara/ki) (daggara/ki) (daggara/ki) (daggara/ki) (ki) (ki)

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

(xiii) (xiv) (xv) (xvi) (xvii) (xviii) (xix) (xx) (xxi) (xxii) (xxiii) (xxiv) (xxv) (xxvi) (xxvii) (xxviii)

property, inalienable, negative, operative 73 (i) property, inalienable, negative, receptive 73 (ii) ailment, –specific, unmarked, positive, 77 (i), 85 (i) operative ailment, –specific, unmarked, positive, 77 (ii), 85 (ii) receptive ailment, –specific, unmarked, negative, 78 (i), 86 (ii) (l’¯edu) operative ailment, –specific, unmarked, negative, 78 (ii) 86 (ii) (l’¯edu) receptive ailment, –specific, marked, positive, 79 (i), 85 (i) (undi) operative ailment, –specific, marked, positive, 79 (i), 85 (ii) receptive ailment, +specific, nonqualified, positive, 80 (i), 87 (i) operative ailment, +specific, nonqualified, positive, 80 (ii), 87 (ii) receptive ailment, +specific, nonqualified, negative, 80 (i), 90 (i) operative ailment, +specific, nonqualified, negative, 81 (ii) 90 (ii) receptive ailment, +specific, qualified, positive, operative 83 (i) 89 (i) ailment, +specific, qualified, positive, receptive 83 (ii), 89 (ii) ailment, +specific, qualified, negative, operative 84 (i) ailment, +specific, qualified, negative, receptive 84 (ii)

Clauses (82) and (88) are not acceptable because ‘+specific’ term doesn’t enter into ‘marked–unmarked’ system. Qualified (+specific) or marked (–specific) terms do not choose for negative option. The structural formulae of the possessive and ailment clauses are as follows: (i) NGp NGp Vb possessor possessed (ii) NGp dat/loc NGp + {g¯a} {l¯a} ‘ailed’

ailment

The operative construction talks about the ‘possessor’ whereas the ‘receptive’ construction talks about the ‘possessed’.

 V. Prakasam

Figure 8.5 Possessive clause system

.. Mental process Mental process clauses reflect the processes of perception, feeling and thinking. These processes include hearing, seeing, thinking, feeling and knowing. There is an interesting morpholexical point which is worth noting in this context. anu is a verb of communication which means ‘to say/to utter’. When konu, a self-benefactive modal, is added to it we get anukonu (= to think). We don’t have a monomorphemic lexical item in Telugu for ‘to think’. Telugu verb anukonu (literally ‘to say to self ’) confirms the statement that ‘thinking is silent speech’. Similarly anipincu (anu + incu, a causative modal) means ‘to feel/to perceive/to strike cognitively’. Let’s now see a few clauses reflecting mental process as described here: venkayya p¯olisulaku kanipinˇc5dŸ u Venkayya police to saw caused (= appeared) “Venkayya was seen by the policemen.” (ii) venkayya p¯olisula kantŸ apadŸ dŸ adŸ u Venkayya police’s eye in fell (=came in their view) “Venkayya came into the view of the policemen.” (iii) venkayya p¯olisulaku kanapadŸ dŸ adŸ u Venkayya police to see fell (was seen) “Venkayya was located by the policemen.” (iv) p¯olisulu venkayyanu c¯uˇc5ru Police (pl) Venkayya (acc) saw “The policemen saw Venkayya.” [acc: accusative]

(91) (i)

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

(92) (i)

venkayya

titŸ lu

a¯ yana ˇcevi

l¯o padŸ dŸ a¯ yi na

Venkayya’s curses his ear in fell “Venkayya’s curses reached his ear.” (ii) venkayya titŸ lu a¯ yana vinn¯adŸ u Venkayya’s curses he heard (iii) venkayya titŸ lu a¯ yanaku vinipinˇc5yi Venkayya’s curses him to heard caused “Venkayya’s curses were heard by him.” (iv) venkayya titŸ lu a¯ yanaku vinapadŸ dŸ a¯ yi Venkayya’s curses him to hear fell “Venkayya’s curses were heard by him.” n¯enu a¯ m¯atŸ a vinn¯anu I that word heard “I heard that.” (ii) a¯ m¯atŸ a n¯enu vinn¯anu that word I heard “That I heard.” (iii) n¯aku a¯ m¯atŸ a vinapadŸ indi me to that word hear fell(= was heard) “That I had heard.” (iv) n¯aku a¯ m¯atŸ a vinipinˇcindi me to that word heard caused (= was heard) “That I had heard.”

(93) (i)

n¯enu atanni cuˇc5nu I him saw “I saw him.” (ii) atanni n¯enu cuˇc5nu him I saw (iii) n¯aku atanu kanipinˇc5dŸ u me to he saw caused (= appeared) “He was seen by me.” (iv) atanu n¯aku kanipinˇc5dŸ u he me to saw caused “He was seen by me.” (v) n¯aku atanu kanapadŸ dŸ a¯ dŸ u me to he seeing fell (= was seen) “He fell in my view.”

(94) (i)

 V. Prakasam

(vi) atanu n¯aku kanapadŸ dŸ a¯ dŸ u he me to see fell “He fell in my view.” (vii) atanu n¯a ˇceta c¯udŸ apadŸ dŸ a¯ dŸ u he me by seen fell (= was seen) “He was seen by me.” In clauses (91–94) two types of suffixes -incu (causative) and -padŸ u (passivising) are there colligating with the ‘dative’ perceiver. In (95) -konu colligates with the nominative perceiver and in (96) -incu colligates with the dative perceiver. (95) (i)

n¯enu d¯anni donga sommu anukonn¯anu I that (acc) stolen property thought “I thought that it was stolen property.” (ii) d¯anni n¯enu donga sommu anukonn¯anu that (acc) I stolen property thought “That I thought was stolen property.” (iii) donga sommu anukonn¯anu n¯enu d¯anni stolen property thought I that (acc) “Stolen property I thought it was.”

(96) (i)

n¯aku adi donga sommu anipinˇcindi me to that stolen property felt “I took it be stolen property.” (ii) adi n¯aku donga sommu anipinˇcindi that me to stolen property felt “That looked stolen property to me.” (iii) donga sommu anipinˇcindi adi n¯aku stolen property felt that me to “Stolen property it looked to be.”

n¯aku ikkadŸ a kasŸ tŸ ang¯a undi me to here difficult-ly is “I find it difficult here.” (ii) ikkadŸ a kasŸ tŸ ang¯a undi n¯aku here difficult-ly is me to “Here I find quite difficult.” *(iii) n¯enu ikkadŸ a kasŸ tŸ ang¯a unn¯anu I here difficulty am *“I am difficult here.”

(97) (i)

(98) (i)

n¯aku ikkadŸ a hayig¯a undi me to here happy-ly is “For me it is quite pleasant here.”

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

(ii) ikkadŸ a hayig¯a undi n¯aku here happy-ly is me to “Here it is quite pleasant for me.” (iii) hayiga undi ikkadŸ a n¯aku happy-ly is here me to (iv) n¯enu ikkadŸ a hayig¯a unn¯anu I here happy-ly am “I am happy here.” (v) ikkadŸ a hayiga unn¯anu n¯enu here happy-ly am I “Here I am quite happy.” (99) (i)

n¯aku k¯opam vaˇcˇcindi me to anger came “I felt angry.” (ii) k¯opam vaˇcˇcindi n¯aku anger came me to “Angry I felt.” (iii) n¯enu k¯oppadŸ dŸ a¯ nu I anger fell (= showed anger) “I was angry (with x).” (iv) k¯oppadŸ dŸ a¯ nu n¯enu anger fell I “Angry I was (with x).”

Clauses (100) to (102) show desire/ perceiver/ knower in the dative, excepting clause (100 iii) where the perceiver is in the nominative. Clauses (100 ii), (101 ii), (102 ii) are receptive constructions. (100) (i)

a¯ meku p¯ulu k¯av¯ali that she to flowers needed “She needs flowers.” (ii) p¯ulu k¯av¯ali a¯ meku flowers needed that she to “Flowers are needed for her.” a¯ meku a¯ d¯aktŸ a¯ ru telusu that she to that doctor known “She knows the doctor.” (ii) a¯ d¯aktŸ a¯ ru a¯ meku telusu that doctor she to knows “The doctor is known to her.”

(101) (i)

 V. Prakasam

(iii) a¯ me a¯ d¯aktŸ arunu erugunu she that doctor acc knows “She knows the doctor.” ataniki saikilu tokkadŸ am vaccu/r¯adu him to cycle pedalling comes/comes not (know/knows not) “He knows/doesn’t know cycling.” (ii) saikilu tokkadŸ am ataniki vaccu/r¯adu cycle pedalling him to know/knows not “Cycling he knows/doesn’t know.”

(102) (i)

Clause (91 iv) is an operative construction, whereas (91 i–iii) are receptive constructions. Clause (91 ii) has the additional import of ‘accidental’ seeing of Venkayya by the police. (100 iii) is neutral to the distinction of ‘accidental’ and ‘incidental’ encounter between the police and Venkayya. Clause (92 i) also reflects accidental hearing. Example (92 ii) is an operative construction and (92 iii and iv) are incidental (by chance) receptives. padŸ u in (92 iii) and (91 iv) makes perceiver expressed in dative case. We get more or less synonymous constructions when -incu (causative modal) is used as in (91 i) and (92 iii). These incu receptives virtually mean as if some one makes himself ‘visible’ or ‘audible’ ‘to’ the police. Clauses in (93) and (94) illustrate the nominative (operative)–dative (receptive) distinction. (94 vii) is a passive construction on the lines of English passive and is not part of natural Telugu. Clauses in (95) (96) again give us operative (nominative perceiver) and receptive (dative perceiver) constructions. Clauses in (97– 98) illustrate another phenomenon. kasŸ tŸ am (difficulty) is a physical phenomenon whereas h¯ayi (happiness) is a mental phenomenon. Only in the case of mental phenomena the nominative operative is available, but not in the case of physical phenomena. These constructions also illustrate the distinction between case-marked receptive and theme-based receptive (see Section 8.2.2 above). The dative-perceiver construction is causally receptive whereas nominative-perceiver causally operative. On the other hand, when we make the operative-receptive distinction with the help of theme we call it theme-based distinction. The distinctions illustrated by the clauses discussed above yield the following system of mental processes. While expressing negative, we use -l¯edu in these structures, as in kanipinca l¯edu, kanapadŸ a l¯edu. Negatives r¯adu (does not come) and teliyadu (not known) l¯edu (no) are used as antonyms to vaccu (comes), telusu, (known) undi (is) respectively.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

Figure 8.6 Mental process clause system

.. Existential constructions Existential clauses in Telugu, unlike in Russian, are verbed clauses. The ‘be’ verb in this meaning is a full verb. These clauses are of two types – absolutive, locative: Absolutive: Participant – Process Locative: Participant – Circumstance – Process As seen in the previous structures operative–receptive distinction is maintainable here too. For example: p¯amu butŸ tŸ al¯o undi/l¯edu snake basket in is/no “The snake is/isn’t in the basket.” (ii) butŸ tŸ al¯o p¯amu undi/l¯edu basket in snake is/no “In the basket is/isn’t the snake.” (iii) butŸ tŸ alo undi/l¯edu p¯amu basket in is/isn’t snake “In the basket there is/isn’t the snake.” (iv) butŸ tŸ alo und¯a p¯amu? basket in is? Snake “Is there in the basket the snake?”

(103) (i)

 V. Prakasam

d¯aktŸ arug¯aru unn¯ar¯a? doctor (honoric) are + Qn “Is the doctor there?” (ii) unn¯ara d¯aktŸ arug¯aru are doctor? “Is he there, the doctor?”

(104) (i)

Clauses in (103) are marked for location. In (104) we can assume a location – hospital, home, club, room, etc. In certain cases no such assumption of location is ‘attracted’: in other words, there is no valential demand for a location. For example: (105) (i)

annam und¯a l¯ed¯a? rice (cooked) is no? “Rice is/isn’t there?” (ii) und¯a/ l¯eda annam? is/isn’t rice? “Is/Isn’t there rice?”

These clauses only question the availability of rice for consumption. If we give ‘absolutive’ interpretation to the clauses in (104), we are actually inquiring whether the doctor is alive. The options available in this type of clause can be systemicised as follows.

Figure 8.7 Existential clause system

.. Material process constructions Material process clauses subsume both eventive and action/causation clauses. Two crucial features of these clauses are

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

i. the presence of a process ii. the ‘affected’ or ‘doer’ being in the nominative triggering agreement with the finite element of the verbal group. Eventive clauses answer questions like ‘what happened?’ Action / causation clauses answer questions like ‘what did x do?’ Let’s examine the following clauses. talupuku ¯emi ayyindi? door to what happened “What happened to the door?” (ii) talupu terucukondi door opened self “The door opened itself (on its own).” (iii) pentŸ ayya talupu teriˇc5dŸ u Pentayya door opened “Pentayya opened the door.” (iv) pentŸ ayya ¯em ˇc¯es5dŸ u? Pentayya what did? “What did Pentayya do?”

(106) (i)

Clauses (106–108) give us eventive clauses and their causal transitives. On the other hand (109) is a monotransitive action clause and (110) is a ditransitive action clause. Clauses in (109) give us two different themes whereas clauses (110) give us three themes: (107) (i)

p¯amuku ¯em ayyindi? snake to what happened “What happened to the snake?” (ii) p¯amu caˇcˇcindi snake died “The snake died.” (iii) rang¯a p¯amunu camp5dŸ u Ranga snake (acc) killed “Ranga killed the snake.” (iv) ranga ˇcetilo p¯amu caˇcˇcindi Ranga hand in snake died “The snake died due to Ranga.”

(108) (i)

padma nidrap¯oyindi Padma sleep went (-slept) “Padma slept.”

 V. Prakasam

(ii) padmaku nidra patŸ tŸ indi/vaˇcˇcindi Padma to sleep possessed/came “Padma fell asleep.” (iii) venkamma padmanu nidrapuˇcˇcindi Venkamma Padma (acc) sleep induced “Venkamma put Padma to sleep.” (109) (i) r¯ajylakshmi ninna tinindi ¯em ˜ padi idŸ lilu Rajyalakshmi yesterday what ate ten idlies

(ii)

“What did Rajayalakshmi eat yesterday.” “Rajayalakshmi ate yesterday ten idlies.” r¯ajylakshmi padi idŸ l˜ilu eppudŸ u tinindi ninna Rajayalakshmi ten idlies when ate yesterday

“When did Rajayalakshmi eat ten idlies?” “Rajayalakshmi ate ten idlies yesterday.” (iii) padi idŸ l˜ilu r¯ajylakshmi tinindi ten idlies Rajayalakshmi ate “All the ten idlies were consumed by Rajayalakshmi.” atanu n¯aku veyyi r¯up¯ayilu iˇcˇc5dŸ u that he me to thousand rupees gave “He gave me thousand rupees.” (ii) n¯aku atanu veyyi r¯up¯ayilu iˇcˇc5dŸ u me to that he thousand rupees gave “I was given thousand rupees by him.” (iii) a¯ veyyi r¯up¯ayilu atanu n¯aku iˇcˇc5dŸ u that thousand rupees that he me to gave “That thousand rupees were given by him to me.” (iv) a¯ veyyi r¯up¯ayilu n¯aku atanu iˇcˇc5dŸ u that thousand rupees me to that he gave “That ten thousand rupees were given (to) me by him.”

(110) (i)

a¯ me panimanisŸ ini matŸ l¯adŸ indi that she work woman (acc) talked “She fixed a maidservant.” (ii) a¯ me panimanisŸ ito c¯al¯a visŸ ay¯alu matŸ l¯adŸ indi that she work woman with many issues talked “She discussed with the maid servant several things.”

(111) (i)

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

(iii) a¯ me panimanisŸ ito j˜itamgurinci matŸ l¯adŸ indi that she work woman with salary about talked “She talked to the maid servant about her salary.” (iv) v¯alŸ lŸ iddaru ¯edo matŸ l¯adŸ u konn¯aru those two whatever (something) talked to themselves “Those two talked about some thing.” (112) (i)

a¯ me m¯ak¯osam annam ˇc¯esindi that she us for rice made (cooked) “She cooked rice for us.” (ii) a¯ me (tanak¯osam) annam ˇc¯esukondi that she self for rice made for self “She cooked rice for herself.” (iii) a¯ me m¯ak¯osam annam ˇc¯esipetŸ tŸ indi that she us for rice made kept “She cooked us rice.” (iv) a¯ me tana k¯osam annam ˇc¯esi petŸ tŸ ukundi that she self for rice made kept for self “She cooked herself some rice.”

rang¯a p¯atŸ alu p¯adŸ 5dŸ u Ranga songs sang “Ranga sang some songs.” (ii) rang¯a p¯atŸ alu p¯adŸ ukonn¯adŸ u Ranga songs sang for self “Ranga hummed some songs.” (iii) rang¯a rendŸ u p¯atŸ alu p¯adipetŸ tŸ 5dŸ u Ranga two songs sang kept “Ranga sang two songs for some one (it may be for recording or for testing tunes, etc.).”

(113) (i)

rang¯a pullayyanu titŸ tŸ 5dŸ u Ranga Pullayya acc cursed “Ranga cursed Pullayya.” (ii) rang¯a tananu t¯anu titŸ tŸ ukonn¯adŸ u Ranga self (acc) self (nom) cursed for self “Ranga cursed himself.”

(114) (i)

(115) (i)

a¯ me d¯ukindi that she jumped “She jumped.” (ii) a¯ me ¯emˇc¯esindi that she what did “What did she do?”

 V. Prakasam

(iii) a¯ me painunˇci kindiki d¯ukindi that she above from down to jumped “She jumped down from above.” (iv) a¯ meku ¯em ayyindi she to what happened? “What happened to her?” (v) a¯ me padŸ indi she fell (116) (i)

atan¯e he (emph) (ii) ivvu give (117) a¯ me a¯ f˜isu nunˇci intŸ iki bayald¯erindi she office from home to started “She left the office for home.” rangamma atanini n¯an¯a titŸ lu titŸ tŸ indi Rangamma him several curses cursed “Rangamma cursed a lot.” (ii) rangamma atanini n¯an¯a m¯atŸ alu anindi Rangamma him several words said ( = accusations) “Rangamma accused him of many things.”

(118) (i)

Material process clauses include both non-volitional eventives (padŸ u = fall) and volitional actions (d¯uku = jump) (115). Some processes can be qualified for selfbenefactive (konu, e.g. (121 ii)) and other-benefactive (petŸ tŸ u, (121 iii)). Konu is used also when an activity is internal to two or more people (e.g. (111 iv)). In the case of non-volitional clauses, the underlying presupposable question will have the undergoer in the dative (115 iv, 116 i) and the verb will be agu (to happen). In the case of volitional clauses and causative clauses the underlying question will have the ‘doer’/’causer’ in the nominative (113, 114 etc.) and the verb will be ˇceyu (= to do). The eventives could be ‘caused’ (106 iii and 107 iii) or ‘non-caused’ (107 i, 106 i). 115 (i–iii) Actions are intensives or extensives. In the former the action though volitional describes what the doer undergoes. In the latter the action moves towards or involves another participant. In intensive constructions of ‘motion’ ‘from’ and ‘to’ directional may be involved (115 iii). Let’s summarise the distinctions available in the clauses given above in the form of a systemic diagram: see Figure 8.8. The choice of ‘selfactive’ or ‘benefactive’ is restricted and can be correlated with the semantic properties of the verb. The discussion here is not extended to the study of the verbal group for want of space.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

Figure 8.8 Material clause system

The operative-receptive distinction is possible only when the clause is nonelliptical, i.e., complete. The difference between ‘deleted’ and ‘recoverable’ is significant. The deleted clause is ‘cotextually’ recoverable whereas the recoverable clause is ‘contextually’ recoverable. ivvu (= give) in Telugu doesn’t demand the object the way ‘give’ in English does.

 V. Prakasam

.. Examples from discourse Let’s now take a small passage and illustrate how the distinctions made above are interwoven in a discourse. This text is from a 1977 novel – Prav¯aham (stream) by Rama Chandramouli (pp. 44–45) (supplement to Vijaya, Madras). (119) (i)

(ii)

(iii)

(iv)

(v)

(vi)

Saila intŸ i bayatŸ a k¯a r¯agindi Saila house outside car stopped “A car stopped outside Saila’s house.” k¯arulo ninˇci vidya digindi car in from Vindya got down “Vidya got out of the car.” a¯ me ventŸ a ink¯o s˜it¯ak¯okaˇciluk undi she with another butterfly was “There was another fashionable woman with her.” s˜it¯ak¯okaˇciluka p¯eru manju butterfly name Manju “The name of the woman is Manju.” Manjuku ˇcaitanya gurinˇci vidya gurinˇci anni visŸ ay¯al¯u Manju to Chait-anya about Vidya about all things vivarang¯a telusu in detail known “Manju knows everything about Chaitanya and Vidya.” endukantŸ ¯e a¯ me k¯ud¯a v¯alŸ lŸ a kl¯asm¯etŸ ¯e ganuka why as if she also their classmate therefore “Because she too was their classmate.”

Clause (119i) is a ‘volitional nondirectional intensive’ one with the structure ‘Medium + Process’. The verb doesn’t show external causation, but shows as if it is a self-directed activity. Clause (119 ii) is also a non-directional intensive one. Clause (119 iii) is a locative existential one, but it is in this context more of an eventive clause like the previous clause. The fourth clause (iv) is an identificatory clause. The fifth clause is a mental process clause with the ‘knower’ in the dative (manjuku). The sixth clause is again an identificatory one – here the reason is being identified. This passage actually reflects different transitive processes and shows how discourse is interwoven. In clause (119 iii) the expression inko (another) refers back to Vidya. By referring to these women as butterflies the novelist is capturing their appearance and behaviour, an instance of metaphoricised experience.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

. Theme and Focus The textual function comprises two sub-functions. In Telugu the thematic function has an interesting role to play (as seen in Section 8.2.2) viz., making operative– receptive distinction. The informational function with its ‘focus’ makes a very valuable distinction between ‘New’ and ‘Given’ elements. The thematic structure of a clause is Theme–Rheme and the informational structure of a clause is Given–New. In a clause the ‘New’ element is preverbal and the verb is attached to it. If the clause is intensive the verb is the New element. Similarly in a verbless clause the final unit is the New element. These generalisations are of unmarked structures. When marked, the structuration differs. (120)

atanu evaru (that) he who “Who is he?” unmarked Theme Given

(121)

atanait¯e m¯a tammudŸ andŸ i He if our younger brother voc “As for him, he is my brother.” unmarked Theme Given

(122)

Rheme New (Qn)

Rheme New

m¯a tammudŸ andŸ i My brother Rheme New

atanait¯e he is Theme Given

In (121) ait¯e marks the Theme. A non-initial Theme with aite acquires extra value of contrast. This suffix cannot be added to non-thematic element. Similarly vocative markers like andŸ i (polite/plural), r¯a (masculine/non-polite), and ¯e (feminine/non-polite) go only with the New element wherever it may be. This is crucial in an identificatory clause, especially when the tone is not to be a marked one. In other words, phonological and morphological elements are complementary.

 V. Prakasam

(123)

tŸ ˜iˇcaru evaru? teacher who? Theme Rheme Given New (Qn) “Who is your teacher?” (ii) m¯a tŸ ˜iˇcaru ayana our teacher he Theme Rheme Given New “Our teacher is him.” (iii) a¯ yana m¯a tŸ ˜iˇcaru [ ] he our teacher Theme Rheme New Given “He is our teacher.” (iv) a¯ yanandŸ i m¯a tŸ ˜iˇcaru he sir our teacher Theme Rheme New Given “It’s him sir our teacher is.”

(i)

m˜i your

In clause (123 iii) the high fall-rise-tone is marked tone. This becomes all the more crucial in an identificatory clause where the Identified is a nominalised construction and is placed after the Identifier. (124)

a¯ paniˇc¯esindi r¯amayya that work did one Ramayya “The one who did it is Ramayya.” Theme Rheme Given New

(125)

r¯amayyandŸ i a¯ paniˇc¯esindi Ramayya voc that work did one “It was Ramayya, sir, who did it.” Theme Rheme New Given

(126)

r¯amayya a¯ paniˇc¯esindi Ramayya that work did me “It was Ramayya who did it.” Theme Rheme New Given

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

In (125) the tone is ‘low fall-rise’ because morphologically the unit is already marked as New. If (126) is not to be uttered with a marked tone (high fall-rise) it may be construed as ‘Causer–Process’ construction with a wrong agreement marker -di is feminine III person singular suffix whereas Ramayya is a man’s name. Here the nominalised construction is constituted as follows: (127)

cesina + di ˇ past participle of ceyu + nominaliser (= to do) (did one = the one who did)

The New element is the unit which also takes the marker of emphasis. While the vocative will be subfixed to the New in an equative construction wherever it is, in an extensive verbed construction it will be added to the verb which gets attached to the New ‘affected’. In an intensive construction the process (verb) is the unmarked New. Marker of emphasis is added only to the New element wherever it may be. r¯amu dŸ ill ˜ik¯e velŸ lŸ 5dŸ u Ramu Delhi + emp went Given New “Ramu went to Delhi.” (ii) r¯amu dŸ ill ˜ik¯e nandŸ i velŸ lŸ indŸ i Ramu Delhi emp voc went one (= place) Given “Ramu, it was to Delhi, sir, that he went.” (iii) r¯amu velŸ lŸ indŸ i dŸ ill ˜ik¯e nandŸ i Ramu went one Delhi emp voc Given “Where Ramu went to is Delhi.”

(128) (i)

Clause (128 ii) shows that the vocative marker comes after emphatic particle attached to the New and here again we have a nominalised verb. Thematically the unmarked version of (128 ii) is (128 iii). Theme is textually important as the point of departure for discourse. In a clause we can recognise three types of themes: textual, interpersonal and ideational (see Matthiessen 1992: 51–52; also David Rose in this volume). Ideational themes can be experiential or logical. (129)

ninna m¯a v¯alŸ lŸ u evar¯u r¯al¯edu yesterday our folks whoever (= no one) came no circ. experiental Theme Rheme “Yesterday none of our folks came.”

 V. Prakasam

(130)

(131)

idug¯o m˜itammudŸ u pilustunn¯adŸ u look here your younger brother calling is interpersonal experiential Theme Theme Rheme “Look here! Your brother is calling you.” mundu m˜itammunŸ nŸ i pilavandŸ i first your younger bother (acc) call voc logical experiential Theme Theme Rheme “First call your brother.”

Textual themes are ‘conjunctions’ or ‘continuatives’: (132)

l¯ekap¯ot¯e mir¯e velŸ lŸ i c¯udŸ andŸ i (not going) your emp. having gone see or else textual experiential Theme Theme Rheme (conjunction) “Or else, you yourself can go and see.”

(133)

a¯ tarav¯ata that afterwards “Later she left him.” textual theme (continuative)

(134)

a¯ me she

atanni vadil¯esindi him left

experiential Theme Rheme

idug¯o l¯ekap¯ot¯e m¯em¯e velŸ t¯am look here or else we go will (we) “Look here! or else we ourselves will go.” interpersonal textual experiential Theme Theme Theme Rheme

With the experiential Theme, the unmarked Theme will be the Causer in extensive constructions or Medium /Affected in non-volitional and intensive constructions. Textual choices are systemicised as follows.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

Figure 8.9 Textual choices

The New element is what is called vidheya vis-à-vis uddesŸ ya (Given), in Sanskrit linguists (Prakasam 1985: 60). This concept was introduced and developed by Halliday (1957: 62, 1967, 1967–1968, 1970, 1994). It has also been well exploited by several linguistics later, the most recent ones being Kiss (1998: 245–273), and Fries (1998).

.. Examples from discourse Let’s now take a text and illustrate some of the points made above. This text is from a 1977 Novel – Prav¯aham (Stream) by Ramchandramouli (pp. 54–55). (Supplement to Vijaya, Madras) r¯epu udayam krŸ sŸ n¯a expressl¯o vast¯aru v¯alŸ lŸ u varangalku tomorrow morning Krishna Express in come they Warangal to Theme New “Tomorrow morning by Krishna Express they will come to Warangal.” (ii) vaˇcˇc¯e sariki tommidi gantŸ alavutundi coming time to nine hours will be Theme New “By the time the train comes nine o’clock it will be.” (iii) Sarigg¯a a¯ v¯elŸ aku v¯alŸ lŸ anu ris˜ivˇc¯esuk¯ov¯ali exactly that time to them receive do must circumstance; experiential New Theme “Exactly at that time they have to be received.”

(135) (i)

 V. Prakasam

tarav¯ata v¯alŸ lŸ anu n¯erug¯a h¯astŸ alku t˜isuk¯elŸ lŸ a¯ali Afterwards them straight hostel to take go must textual experiential New Theme Theme continuative “Afterwards they have to be taken straight to the hostel.” (v) r¯um namber f¯artŸ i faiv and f¯artŸ i siks l¯o v¯alŸ lŸ u vidŸ idiˇc¯est¯aru Room number forty five and forty six in they stay do experiential Theme 1: Locative experiential Theme 2 New “In rooms forty five and forty six they will stay.” (vi) bai elevan v¯alŸ lŸ anandarn˜i t˜isukoni k¯al¯ej˜iki r¯av¯ali By eleven them all taking college to come must Theme New “By eleven they should all be brought to the college.” (vii) okkokkarn˜i varusag¯a vidya v¯alŸ lŸ anu prinsip¯al g¯arki each one by turns Vidya them principal to (acc) Theme 1 Theme 2 pariˇcayam ˇc¯estundi introduction do will New “Each one of them will be introduced to the Principal by Vidya.” (iv)

Clause (135 i) begins with an experiential theme – here a circumstance element (temporal group). The new element is placed immediately after the theme. The name of the train (Krishna Express l¯o) is the new information. Here it is marked New. The pronominalised Actor (v¯alŸ lŸ u) is postfixed to the verb to give us a ‘verbal piece’, phonologically speaking. The second clause (135 ii) uses a participial form of vaccu (= to come) which was the main verb in the first clause and this achieves linkage between the two clauses. vaˇcˇc¯e sariki (by the time of coming) is the texual theme of this clause. The New element is tommidi gantŸ alavutundi focussing on the time of the arrival of train. The third clause starts with sarigg¯a a¯ v¯elŸ aku which is experiential theme. The discussion we had earlier regarding receptive constructions is relevant here. Here the Agent (receiving agent) is unmentioned giving us pragmatically the effect of a passive though the ‘affected’ is still in the accusative and the verb is not passivized. The fourth clause starts with a logical Theme (tarav¯ata). The secondary theme is experiential Theme (v¯alŸ lŸ anu). Here h¯astŸ alaku is the New element which is in its unmarked ‘prefinal place’. We find the Agent present only in the seventh clause (Vidya). Here the New element is prinsip¯alg¯ariki.

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Telugu 

This small extract of seven clauses given us an idea of how Themes and News are organized.

. Conclusion: Typological outlook Dravidian languages and Indo Aryan languages (e.g. Urdu) constitute the major component of what is called South Asian Linguistic Area. They share several common features. The use of dative construction, discussed under mental process clauses, is one such feature. On the other hand, verbless clauses (non-temporal clauses) distinguish Dravidian languages from Indo Aryan languages. Russian and Greek are like Dravidian languages in this regard. ‘Passive voice’ is not the common resource in Telugu. Instead word-order or/and dative Subjects give us what we have called receptive constructions, drawing on Halliday (1967–68). There is much more that distinguishes Telugu from other languages. For example the main verb actualises the perfective–nonperfective distinction whereas only one verb undŸ u (= to be) encodes tense distinctions. Similarly the progressive use of lexical verbs as modals and auxiliaries is significant in Telugu (Prakasam 1985: 27–38).

Note . Though the Khammam district belongs to Telangana historically, the major part of the district falls into the coastal district area dialectally.

References Berry, Margaret, Christopher Butler, Robin Fawcett, & Guowen Huang (1996). Meaning and Form: Systemic Functional Interpretations. Norwood, NJ: Ablex Publishing Company. Caldwell, R. (1856) (rep. 1976). A Comparative Grammar of the Dravidian or South-Indian Family of Languages. Madras: University of Madras. Davies, Martin & Louise Ravelli (1992). Advances in Systemic Linguistics. London: Pinter Publishers. Fries, Peter (1998). “Toward a constructive view of language.” (unpublished paper). Halliday, M. A. K. (1957). “Some Aspects of Systemic Description and Comparison in Grammatical Analysis”. In Studies in Linguistic Analysis (pp. 54–57). Oxford: Blackwell. Halliday, M. A. K. (1967). Intonation and Grammar in British English. The Hague: Mouton.

 V. Prakasam

Halliday, M. A. K. (1967–1968). “Notes on Transitivity and Theme in English” in Journal of Linguistics, Vol. 3 (1967) 37–81; 199–244 and Vol. 4 (1968) 179–215. Halliday, M. A. K. (1970). A Course in Spoken English. London: Oxford University Press. Halliday, M. A. K. (1994). An Introduction to Functional Grammar. London: Edward Arnold (Second Edition). Hasan, Ruqaiya, Carmel Cloran, & David G. Butt (Eds.). (1996). Functional Descriptions. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Kiss, K. E. (1998). “Identificational Focus Versus Informational Focus.” Language, 74(2), 245–273. Liesbeth, D. (1996). “Causation in Dutch and French Interpersonal Aspects”. In Hasan et al. (Eds., pp. 207–236). Lisker, Leigh (1963). Introduction to spoken Telugu. New York: American Council of Learned Societies. Martin, J. R. (1992). English Text: System and Structure. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Martin, J. R. (1996). “Transitivity in Tagalog: A Functional Interpretation of Case”. In Berry et al. (Eds., pp. 229–296). Matthiessen, Christian (1992). “Interpreting the Textual Metafunction.” In Davies & Ravelli (Eds., pp. 37–81). Prakasam, V. (1968). A Study in the Systemic contrastive Analysis of Telugu and English Syntactic Patterns. (CIE Research Diploma Thesis). Prakasam, V. (1970). The Syntactic Patterns of Telugu and English – A Study in contrastive Analysis. Hyderabad: Central Institute of English (Monograph 5). Prakasam, V. (1972). A Systemic Treatment of Certain Aspects of Telugu Phonology. Unpublished D.phil thesis, University of York. Prakasam, V. (1979). “Aspects of sentence phonology.” Archivum Linguisticum, Vol. X, 57– 92. Prakasam, V. (1985). The Linguistic Spectrum. Patiala: Punjabi University. Ramakrishna Reddy, B. (1986). Localist studies in Telugu syntax. Secunderabad – 17: 114, Gayatri Towers. Rangathacharyulu, K. K. (1987). A Historical Grammar of Inscriptional Telugu. Hyderabad: Osmania University. Rose, David (in this volume). “Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Pitjantjatjara.” Subrahmanyam, P. S. (1977). Dravida Bhashalu (in Telugu) Annamalai Nagar: Saraswati Publications. Venkateswara Sastry, J. (1994). Regional and Social Dialects of Telugu (A Prosodic approach). Mysore: Central Institute of Indian Languages.

Chapter 9

Metafunctional profile of the grammar of Pitjantjatjara David Rose University of Sydney

. Cultural contexts This chapter looks at resources for meaning in the language of the Anangu people of Australia’s Western Desert, exemplified with the dialect Pitjantjatjara. Dialects of the Western Desert language are spoken across a vast arc of arid lands from the Great Sandy Desert of northern Western Australia, to the Great Victoria Desert of South Australia. Pitjantjatjara is located approximately at the centre of this region, across the borders of WA, SA and the Northern Territory. The Western Desert peoples were traditionally nomadic hunter-gatherers of very large territories with low population densities (see Tonkinson 1978; Myers 1986, for evocative ethnographic studies). Each of the Western Desert dialects has two or three hundred to a thousand speakers over an area spanning a few hundred kilometres, and today there are probably around 6,000 speakers altogether, in an area the size of western Europe. All the Western Desert peoples now live in settled communities, to which they moved in waves from the late 1930s to 1960s. Social relations across the Western Desert are regulated by a classificatory kinship system based on the general categories of generation, gender, descent and marriage, which extend beyond the direct kin community to include, ultimately, the entire indigenous Australian population. Each person stands in a clearly defined kin relation to all others, to whom one is expected to behave accordingly. The social system is organized and regulated collectively by the elders of each kin community in the region, through ceremonial initiations and betrothals that link families in relationships of reciprocal rights and obligation across vast distances, and minimize the potential for inter-family conflict. This system of ceremonies and social regulation is known throughout indigenous Australia today as the Law. Its basis is in religious narratives, songs and rituals that celebrate the travels and

 David Rose

actions of ancestral anthropomorphic beings who created the physical and social worlds manifest today, known as the Dreaming (Stanner 1966). The prevailing ideology of this social system is one of “egalitarian mutuality” (Maddock 1972). Although age and gender are factors in status differences within local kin communities, the ideal relation between communities and peers is one of equality. The act of initiation and betrothal is crucial for maintaining this social principle, creating a sacrosanct and indivisible bond between distant families, maximizing the opportunities for peaceful cooperative exploitation of resources and coordinated (re)production and transmission of the culture. Australian languages form a relatively homogeneous family (Capell 1956; Dixon 1980, 1990), despite the potential for variation at all linguistic strata and ranks over the probable 40,000 years of modern human occupation of the continent. Harvey (1997) argues that this homogeneity is suggestive of extremely slow rates of linguistic change in Australian cultures. The Australian family has been sub-classified on lexical and morphological criteria into two general groups, including the so-called “Pama-Nyungan” group which covers most of the continent, and more diverse “non-Pama-Nyungan” groups in northern WA and NT (O’Grady, Wurm & Hale 1966; Blake 1988; Evans 1988; Harvey 1997). Western Desert dialects are classified as members of the PamaNyungan subgroup “Nyungic”, that covers the south-western third of the continent (O’Grady & Fitzgerald 1997). One “non-Pama-Nyungan” language is Kunianti (or Gooniyandi), described by McGregor (1992) using an SFL framework for clause rank systems. With some exceptions, such as a greater tendency to realize participant functions in the verbal group, the functional organization and realizational strategies of Kunianti closely resemble those of Pitjantjatjara. Research into typological relationships outside of Australia has in the past been opposed by Dixon (1980: 238), claiming that “there is absolutely no evidence for a genetic connection between Australian languages and anything outside the continent; there is not even the remote “possibility” that scholars could argue about”. However Nichols (1997) has revived interest in such relationships with a comparative study of various syntactic classes that are shared between various Papuan languages and various Australian languages. One such feature, discussed in Section 9.2.3 below from a functional perspective, is the system of “switch-reference” conjunction, which identifies the core participant in the clause (formalist “subject”), as either the same as or different from that of the preceding clause. This resource is common to Australian and Papuan families, but is less apparent in neighbouring Austronesian languages. It is integrated with clause complexing resources that construct additive series of finite clauses and enhancing non-finite series culminating with a finite clause (sometimes known as “serial verbs” or “clause-chaining”). Other Papuan and Australian examples of these features are described by Gleason

Pitjantjatjara 

(1968), Wurm (1975), Martin (1983), Foley (1986), Austin (1981, 1988), MacGregor (1992), Rose (1993, 2001).1 In this chapter I will attempt to outline some of the semantic motifs with which Pitjantjatjara speakers enact their culture as social discourse. In order to do so I have endeavoured as far as possible to exemplify the range of resources available in each functional region of the grammar with whole texts that evoke the social contexts in which they were spoken.

. Metafunctional preview This section provides a brief orientation to the major grammatical systems available for Pitjantjatjara clauses, of mood transitivity and theme, before describing each in more detail in the following sections. However before turning to these clause rank systems, it will be helpful to examine some general features of systems at lower grammatical ranks whose roles include the realization of clause rank functions, as well as features of tone that help to realize variations in clause rank functions.

.. A rank and stratum based approach to presenting Pitjantjatjara texts Table 9.1 to Table 9.6 below summarize options for verbal and nominal affixes and personal pronouns, their structural forms, and the English glosses they are assigned in the text examples in this chapter. The information in these tables is intended to enable the reader to recognize the functions of these features in examples, without needing to repeat the technical labels for each instance that they recur. Instead of re-glossing each occurrence of each morpheme with a technical label, the group as a whole is glossed as an English verbal group, nominal group or prepositional phrase. This in turn allows us to focus on the clause rank systems of mood, transitivity and theme that are our primary concern in this survey of the grammar, since it is the role of such word groups to realize clause rank functions. Options in these clause rank systems are realized, not simply by one or another morpheme, but by reactances between many features of clauses (Whorf 1956), including morphemes, words and groups, as well as patterns of intonation on which they are spoken. For example, a traditional morpheme by morpheme gloss for a Pitjantjatjara circumstance of Accompaniment may be as follows: (1) tili wiru -tjara -ngka brand good -possessive -locative

 David Rose

Each of the four items in this interlinear gloss are English words. The first two specify translations of word rank Pitjantjatjara items tili and wiru as Anglo-Saxon lexical items, while the last two generalize translations of morpheme rank items -tjara and -ngka as Latinate technical labels. (The word tili refers to a burning stick in a fire that can be used as a torch, or to ignite other fires, and is glossed here as “brand”.) Whatever the merits of translating each item in this fashion, this interlinear gloss fails to translate three critical functions: the group rank functions of epithesis and deixis, and the clause rank function of the group as a whole, as a circumstantial element. This is because Pitjantjatjara and English a) have different options in these sets of functions, and b) do not realize them in the same way. Perhaps the simplest example of such realizational differences is in the structural sequence in Pitjantjatjara of Epithets following the Thing as tili wiru, or in English of Epithets preceding the Thing as “good brand”. In a functionally oriented account we need to be able to gloss, not simply the items tili and wiru, but also the relation between them of epithesis. As the word rank gloss makes the translation of tili and wiru explicit, so a group rank English gloss can be used to make the epithesis explicit, as “good brands”. A second example of realizational differences is in deixis, which is typically specified overtly in each English nominal group, but need not be specified overtly in Pitjantjatjara nominal groups. One dimension of deixis is number: singular/plural. (There is no count/non-count contrast for types of things in Pitjantjatjara.) In English nominal groups number must be specified morphologically, by the presence or absence of the suffix -s or other plural noun form. In Pitjantjatjara nominal groups, plurality of a thing can be specified with the word tjuta, or with plural pronouns, but if its number is inherent in the type of thing, or in its context in the text, it need not be specified. The latter is the case with the thing tili in example 1. In the context here, the group tili wiru-tjara-ngka is lexically related to a previous mention in the text of waru “fire”, which inherently contains a number of brands. This implicit plurality of tili here is an example of homophoric deixis, comparable to homophoric definiteness of certain unique entities in English, such as “the sun” or “the moon”, and homophoric plurality in “the stars”. However definiteness and number need not be overtly displayed in Pitjantjatjara nominal groups, if they are implicit in the contexts of the text or its field. How then should we gloss tili in this example, with a singular English word, or a plural? A third example of realizational differences is in the clause elements realizing the functions of circumstances. In English those circumstances realized by prepositional phrases tend to be realized in Pitjantjatjara by nominal groups inflected with a suffix. This is illustrated with example 1, which functions in its clause as a circumstance of Accompaniment. Accompaniment is realized grammatically by the locative suffix -ngka, but this suffix can also realize a range of other participant and circumstantial functions, including Place or Time, Means (of an action), Re-

Pitjantjatjara 

ceiver (of a locution), or Source (of a sound). Its function as Accompaniment is specified here by reactances between the nominal group, its locative inflection and its clausal context, displayed below in example 2. (2) ka kunyu and reportedly

wati kutju-ngku Kipara-ngku one man, Kipara Medium

tili wiru-tjara-ngka nyina-ngi with good brands was living Accompaniment Process In clause 2 the circumstance tili wiru-tjara-ngka is specified as Accompaniment by the lexical relation between the thing “firebrands” and the clause nucleus “one man, Kipara was living”. In terms of logical relations this is a specifically accompanying relation, as we might say in English a person lives with their family. This logical relation contrasts with relations of location, means or reception, which are also realized by nominal groups inflected with the locative suffix -ngka. In other words, in this clause Kipara was not living “at/in/on brands” (Place), “by brands” (Means), or “to brands” (Receiver), but “with brands” (Accompaniment). (The function of -tjara, the possessive inflection, is only apparent in the context of the whole text and will be discussed in Section 9.4.5 below.) While these functions tend to be specified in English with various prepositions, their differences in Pitjantjatjara are only apparent from their lexical relationship with the clause nucleus. This means that, like number and epithesis, circumstantial functions are not made explicit in an interlinear gloss focused on generalized translations of morphemes; they do not enable an English speaking reader to identify group and clause rank functions. Furthermore since lower rank grammatical functions can be briefly summarized in tables, it is not necessary to repeat them in each interlinear gloss, particularly if space is required to gloss group rank functions. This is the course I have taken in this chapter. Realizations of grammatical features are first described and displayed paradigmatically in tables and networks, followed by clauses and texts exemplifying these features. The interlinear glosses concentrate on group rank functions that realize the clause rank features under focus. So for example the circumstance tili wiru-tjara-ngka is glossed with the English prepositional phrase “with good brands”, the process nyina-ngi is glossed with the verbal group “was living”, and the participant wati kutju-ngku Kipara-ngku is glossed with the nominal group “one man, Kipara”. Having addressed group rank functions in the interlinear gloss, it is now possible to turn to functions of clauses that cannot be glossed at group rank in English. One example of these is the function of the two instances of the “active” suffix -ngku, inflecting wati kutju-ngku Kipara-ngku. Formal descriptions of Australian

 David Rose

languages treat this morpheme as a marker of “ergative case”, which is equated with an agentive participant.2 But here the participant is not an agent, and the process of “living” has no material effect; Kipara is merely accompanied by the firebrands. The function of the repeated active suffix is to focus on the participant’s identity, a textual effect enhanced by his double identification with “one man” and his name Kipara. This textual effect is realized not by a nominal group in English, but by a predicated Theme, underlined in (3) below. (3) “But apparently there was one man, Kipara who was living with fire with good brands.” This then is the clause rank gloss given for example (2). It is not however a “free translation”, rather its textual organization and other features are crafted to accurately translate clause rank features of the original Pitjantjatjara. Furthermore features above the clause can also be translated in this line of glossing. These include in (3), i) the contrastive conjunction “but” in place of simple addition, ii) the glossing of the reportative kunyu with “apparently”, instead of simply repeating “it’s said”, and iii) punctuation as a written sentence, all of which are discourse semantic level glosses. It would be possible to give many more examples contrasting this rank based approach to glossing Pitjantjatjara grammatical functions, with the traditional morpheme by morpheme approach. However examples of the rank based approach are displayed throughout the chapter. Rather than develop the argument further here, I will now present those lower rank and stratum features which occur throughout the examples in this chapter, including verbal and nominal affixes, personal pronouns and tone contours.

.. Verbal suffixes Verbal suffixes may realize tense in indicative clauses, orientation in imperative clauses, or aspect in non-finite dependent verbs. Options in tense and aspect specify the relative time of the process and its relative duration, as set out in Table 9.1 below. English auxiliary verbs are consistently used in glosses to bring out semantic proportionalities between Pitjantjatjara and English tense and aspect systems. The exact phonological form of these verb suffixes varies slightly with the morphology of the verb, of which here are four formal verb classes that have no semantic significance.3 On the other hand the forms of verb endings realizing direct imperative mood vary widely between these four formal classes. They are set out in the following Table 9.2. Imperative mood is glossed in examples with an exclamation mark.

Pitjantjatjara 

Table 9.1 Options in tense and aspect system tense

aspect

feature label future present past past durative habitual irrealis (perfective) realis (imperfective) completed

example tati-lku tati-ni tati-nu tati-ningi tati-lpai tati-ntjikitja tati-ra tati-ntjanu

gloss will climb does climb did climb did climb does climb to climb climbing having climbed

Table 9.2 Forms of verb endings realizing direct imperative mood verb ending -la -wa -(‘zero’) -ra

example tati-la ukali-wa pitja a-ra

gloss climb up-! climb down-! come-! go-!

.. (Pro)nominal groups Pitjantjatjara has a basic repertoire of four nominal case inflections which contribute to realizing various participant and circumstantial roles depending on their functional environment in a clause. I have labelled these inflections active, neutral, genitive and locative. Their realizations for singular personal pronouns, common nominals, demonstratives, and proper names are exemplified in Table 9.3.4 In the context of text examples, Pitjantjatjara nominal groups inflected as locative are glossed in English as prepositional phrases, using “in/at/with/to”, etc., depending on their functional environment, e.g. Place, Means, Accompaniment, Receiver, Source. Genitive inflections may be glossed with “of/for”, when functioning as a type of Cause, or as “my/mine” when functioning as a possessive Deictic or Token. Genitive is also used to indicate the Phenomenon in a mental reaction, normally realized without a preposition in English. These inflections are suffixed to the last element in a nominal group, or to each element in a pronoun complex or nominal group complex. Nominal groups have comparable options for expansion as in English, although in the reverse sequence: Thing, Deictic, Qualifier, Classifier, Epithet, Intensifier, Numerative, and finally the inflection. However it is rare to see nominal groups of more than three elements, as in (4) below. (4) ngura kutjupa tjuta-ngka place different plural-locative Thing Epithet Numerative “in numerous places”

 David Rose

Table 9.3 Options in nominal inflection nominal type personal speaker pronouns: addressee non-interactant common nominals “man” demonstratives “this” proper names

active ngayulu nyuntu paluru wati-ngku nyanga-ngku Jimmy-lu

neutral ngayu-nya nyuntu-nya palu-nya wati nyangatja Jimmy-nya

genitive ngayu-ku nyuntu-mpa palu-mpa wati-ku nyanga-ku Jimmy-ku

locative ngayu-la nyuntu-la palu-la wati-ngka nyanga-ngka Jimmy-la

Nominal groups are more often expanded to specify personal identities, rather than classes and qualities of things (perhaps a feature of spoken modes in general). This is illustrated in (5) below with a nominal group complex that specifies an identity with the name Kipara. (5) wati kutju-ngku kipara-ngku man one-active Kipara-active Thing Numerative Thing “1 one man, =2 Kipara” In (6) below, an identity is first indicated with a demonstrative pronoun, and then specified with a personal pronoun complex. (6) pala palu-nya tjana-nya that [it them] Thing Deictic [1=2] “those ones there” As in example (6) above, personal pronouns are glossed with corresponding English pronouns, e.g. “I/me; we/us; they/them”. Unlike English, singular noninteractant pronouns are gender neutral, but are glossed in English according to the gender of their referents in text examples. For the Pitjantjatjara system of single, dual and plural pronouns, I have used glosses such as “I”, “we2” or “we3”. The full range of these pronoun options are discussed in the following section.

.. Personal pronouns As with tense and aspect for verbs, person and number are word rank systems available for personal pronouns, but are realized by the form of the pronoun itself rather than by affixes. Options in person and number specify the roles of participants in interaction, and whether they are one, two, or more persons. Each category in person and number may be realized by a full (salient) pronoun, and many may be realized by a clitic pronoun. Clitic items in Pitjantjatjara are non-salient realizations of clause rank functions, including pronouns or modal adjuncts, that are appended to other salient elements of a clause. The paradigm of clitic pro-

Pitjantjatjara 

Table 9.4 Pronouns realizing options in person and number in imperative clauses single person full clitic addressee nyuntu ø speaker ngayulu -na non-inter. paluru –

number dual gloss full clitic you nyupali -pula/ø I ngali -li s/he/it pula –

gloss you2 we2 they2

full nyura nganana tjana

plural clitic -ya/ø -la –

gloss you3 we3 they3

Table 9.5 Pronouns realizing options in person and number in indicative clauses single person full clitic speaker ngayulu -na addressee nyuntu -n non-inter. paluru ø

number dual gloss full clitic I ngali -li you nyupali – s/he/it pula ø

gloss we2 you2 they2

full nganana nyura tjana

plural clitic -la – -ya/ø

gloss we3 you3 they3

Table 9.6 Clitic options are available for neutral and genitive pronouns

speaker addressee

single neutral -ni “me” -nta “you”

dual neutral genitive -linya “us2” -limpa “our2” – –

plural neutral -lanya “us3” –

genitive -lampa “our3” –

nouns in imperative clauses differs from that for indicative clauses. Table 9.4 below gives the realizations of each option in person and number for active pronouns in imperative clauses, together with the glosses used in examples. The choice of implicit addressee is classed in this paradigm as a clitic with “zero” realization, since this is the non-salient realization of this function. All other choices of person must be realized explicitly, as a full or clitic pronoun, although clitic is not an option where the person is a non-interactant, since it is a relatively infrequent option. In indicative clauses the clitic options for addressees and non-interactants are the reverse of those for imperative clauses, e.g. non-interactants may be implicit, with ya as the option for plural non-interactants. Table 9.5 below gives the realizations of each option in person and number for full or clitic active pronouns. In addition the following clitic options are available for neutral and genitive pronouns in Table 9.6. The simple pronouns in Tables 9.4, 9.5 and 9.6 refer exclusively to addressee(s) or to non-interactant(s) or inclusively to dual or plural speakers. That is nyupali means “you two addressees”, ngali means “one speaker and one addressee”, and so on. However pronouns may be complexed to include other categories. For example paluru nyupali means “s/he and you”, including a non-interactant with addressee, or paluru ngali, “s/he and I”, includes a non-interactant with speaker. The pronominal system is not limited to one word realizations of “inclusive” or “exclusive”

 David Rose

categories, as morphologically focused formal grammars of Australian languages often imply. It is also worth mentioning here that numeration in Pitjantjatjara nominal groups traditionally consisted of only three primary options, single kutju, dual kutjara and plural tjuta, with plurality potentially adjusted as low mankurpa “few”, or high winki “all”. This mirrors the three options for number in the pronoun system, for an individual, a pair or a group, illustrating in a small way the relationships between social and ideational categories (Durkheim 1912).

.. Tone contours Tone is a crucial resource for realizing interpersonal meanings in Pitjantjatjara. Five tone contours constitute the general options available for varying interpersonal meanings by intonation: falling, rising, rise-fall, fall-rise and level, as Halliday (1967) shows for English. These five general options are further specified by the pitch to which they rise or fall.5 In the description here, each of these options are indicated graphically, in order to make the examples more readily accessible for the reader. The conventions for doing so are set out in Table 9.7, together with their numbers based on those assigned to each tone contour in Halliday (1967). (Exceptions are tones 1-, 3+ and 5+ which have no equivalent to those described by Halliday.) The meanings each tone realizes in the context of specific speech functions is also given.6 Table 9.7 Tone movements, symbols, numbers and speech functions Symbol

tone movement

#

speech functions

mid fall

1

neutral statement; mild command or vocation

high to low fall

1+

forceful statement; insistent command or elemental-question

high to mid fall

1–

committed response or exclamation

rising

2

yes-no question

level (slight rise)

3

uncommitted response; sympathetic exclamation; neutral dependent clause in a sequence

level high pitch fall then rise

3+ 4

“solidary” vocation reserved statement; deferent vocation; primary clause in a sequence

mid rise then high 5 fall

neutral command, exclamation

elemental-question

rise-fall then slight 5+ rise

tagged command or elemental-question

or

Pitjantjatjara 

Before turning to the metafunctional previews, there is one more lower rank feature that is relevant for all examples, at the phonological rank of foot. Pitjantjatjara is a foot-timed language, with a close correspondence between each rhythmic foot and word, which is normally of two or three syllables, stressed followed by unstressed. (Multisyllabic suffixes may also have their own foot.) To read the examples in this chapter aloud, place the stress on the first syllable of each word.

.. Basic mood The starting point for the outline of clause grammar is with resources in mood, for two reasons. Firstly the deployment of these resources in discourse clearly illustrates the role of the language in enacting social relationships in Western Desert culture. Secondly interpersonal functions have been marginalized to date in descriptions of Australian languages, treated as sub-types of transitivity structures, or as lists of particles ancillary to major experiential word classes, and the complex role of intonation in interpersonal meaning has been virtually ignored. Such inadequate analyses have contributed to considerable misunderstandings, and sometimes bizarre theories of exotic “communication styles” in Australian languages. I have made an effort here to illustrate the functions of interpersonal grammatical resources in enacting Western Desert relationships in discourse, in the hope that this may lead to a richer and more accurate understanding of communication in Australian cultures. The most general choice in mood is between imperative and indicative clauses, correlating with the generalized speech functional categories of “proposal” or “proposition”, which are capable of functioning as moves in an exchange between speakers. Variations in imperative mood realize different types of proposal such as command, offer or suggestion, depending on the person obligated to carry out the proposal. Proposals can also be oriented as direct or oblique by the verb suffix, and assigned various degrees of force by tone contours. The unmarked imperative tone rises from mid to high, and then falls to low, exemplified for a command in (7) below. Strong force is realized by a high falling tone, exemplified for a suggestion in (8). In the examples that follow, tone contours are indicated with graphic symbols to facilitate reading. Each line corresponds to at least one whole tone group, and additional tone group boundaries are indicated with a double slash //. [imperative: jussive] (7) wala-ngku watja-la quickly tell-! “Tell me quickly!”

 David Rose

[imperative: suggestive] (8) a-ra -la // uru-kutu go-! we3 to waterhole “Let’s go to the waterhole!” Indicative mood is used to negotiate propositions, as statements, yes-no questions or elemental (nya-) questions. It is realized by the presence of tense suffixes on the verb, if the clause represents a process. Clauses without verbs that represent relations between entities are inherently indicative. If the indicative clause is declarative, the unmarked tone is mid to low fall; if yes-no interrogative, the unmarked tone is rising. Example (9) is a dialogic pair from an exchange. [indicative: yes-no interrogative → declarative] (9) A

B

uti -ya nyanga-ngi clearly they3 were seeing? “Could they see it clearly?” uwa nyaku-la ura-ra kati-ngu yes seeing collecting did bring “Yes, having seen it, they collected it and brought it back.”

Elemental interrogatives demand the identity of a wide variety of participants (10), circumstances or processes. Their unmarked tone is rise-fall, as for imperatives. [elemental interrogative] (10) ngana-lu -nta pu-ngu who? you did hit “Who hit you?”

.. Basic transitivity From the perspective of experiential meaning, a clause in Pitjantjatjara represents a process or a relation between entities. I have used the semantic term figure here to include processes and relations (following Halliday & Matthiessen 1999). Each figure involves at least one participant, the Medium, it may be extended to one or more other participants, its Range , and it may also be associated with one or more circumstances. The Medium in Pitjantjatjara is the generalized core participant in a clause, which acts, senses, says, or is assigned an attribute or identity. It is realized by the unmarked “nominative” form of personal pronouns, whether the clause is transitive or intransitive, e.g. intransitive (11), transitive (12) and verbless relation (13).

Pitjantjatjara 

[non-effective action] (11) ngayulu a-nu I did go Medium Process “I went.” [effective action] (12) paluru malu waka-nu puli-ngka he a kangaroo did spear in the hills Medium Range Process Circumstance “He speared a kangaroo in the hills.” [relation] (13) nyuntu ninti kuwari you (are) aware now Medium Range Circumstance “You know now.” Other realizations of Medium, including demonstratives, proper names or common nominals, may be inflected as active in transitive clauses, to distinguish Medium from Range. The active inflection is indicated in bold type in (14). [verbal signification] (14) kuta-ngku -ni watja-nu elder brother me told Medium Range Process “My big brother told me.” The term Range generalizes other participant functions, which involve the entity that the process or relation is extended to, i.e. the thing or person that is acted on, done for or given to, said, addressed, perceived or reacted to, or the attribute or identity of the Medium. The suffix distinguishing the Range varies according to which one of these specific roles it fulfils. Circumstances include the logicosemantic categories of time and place, reason, purpose, means, accompaniment, role, comparison and quality, and are realized by nominal, verbal or adverbial groups depending on the type. The analysis of transitivity presented here considerably elaborates the binary model of Dixon’s and other descriptions of clause grammar in Australian languages, that is defined in terms of verb classes as “either strictly transitive - occurring with subject (A) and object (O) core NPs – or strictly intransitive – occurring just with a subject (S) core NP” (Dixon 1980: 378). This definition is not inclusive enough to apply to verbal and mental clause types in

 David Rose

which the Medium is active but not an “agent” of an effective action, and does not apply to various other types of non-effective actions. It also obscures analysis of relational clauses, in which there may be no verb and neither participant is “agent”. I have tried to show in Section 9.4 below how the model of experience immanent in the transitivity system of Pitjantjatjara is considerably richer than such reductive rule definitions allow for.

.. Basic theme The textual resource of theme is employed in Pitjantjatjara for organizing the structure of a clause as a message that has relevance to its context, and for adjusting the relative prominence of messages in the flow of discourse. Theme has had little attention in Australian linguistics, with the exceptions of Kilham (1977) on Theme in Wik-Munkan discourse, and McGregor (1990) on Kunianti clauses, both using Halliday’s 1967 model of Theme, and Bowe (1990) on “constituent order” in Pitjantjatjara clauses, using Comrie’s (1981) formalist notion of “syntactically basic word order”. Bowe improves on Dixon’s influential dismissal of textual organization (1980: 441), that the “order of words and phrases can, in most Australian languages, be extraordinarily free; it has little or no grammatical significance”, but is limited by a formalist non-discursive perspective and lack of intonation analysis. The model developed here elaborates the functions of Theme in Pitjantjatjara discourse, and relates them to variations in information structure realized by intonation. Theme is realized in Pitjantjatjara by first position in the clause; that is the structural starting point of a clause is employed as the point at which the message is related to its context, in three possible ways. Each Theme includes an element that is the experiential starting point for the message, grounding it in the field of discourse. This experiential Theme (also known as “topic”) may be preceded by an interpersonal element such as a modal item, positioning the message in the speakers’ interaction, and by a textual element such as a conjunction that connects the message to the preceding discourse. An example with all three possible thematic elements is given in (15). Themes are underlined in the examples that follow. (15) ka kunyu wati kutju-ngku Kipara-ngku tili wirutjara-ngka nyina-ngi and reportedly one man, Kipara with good brands was living textual interp. experiential Theme Theme Theme In all major clauses the Medium is identified within the Theme. Its identity is either presented as a thing or a name (or both as in 15), or presumed by a salient pronoun,

Pitjantjatjara 

clitic pronoun or switch reference conjunction. These options are illustrated in the following extract (16), from a narrative about the mythic origin of fire. (16) nyina-ngi 1 munu tjana-ya watarku and they-they in ignorance were living Medium “...and those people were living in ignorance.” +2 ka kunyu wati kutju-ngku Kipara-ngku tili wiru tjara-ngka nyina-ngi and it’s said one man, Kipara with good brands was living Medium “But apparently there was one man, Kipara who was living with fire with good brands.” wati kutju +3 ka ngura kutjupa tjuta-ngka wati kutjupa tjuta-ngku kuli-ni and in many different places many different men are thinking one man Medium “So in numerous places, a great many men were thinking of this one man.” In the Theme of 16.1 the Medium is first identified by the additive conjunction munu, as the same as the Medium of the preceding clause, and then doubly identified by a salient and clitic pronoun tjana-ya “they”. In +2 the identity of the Medium is identified as different from that of 1 by the additive conjunction ka, and is specified by a nominal group wati kutju-ngku Kipara-ngku “one man, Kipara”. In +3 the Medium identity is again switched by ka, and specified by a nominal group wati kutjupa tjuta-ngku “many different men”. But here the Medium is preceded by another experiential Theme, a Place ngura kutjupa tjuta-ngka “in many different places”. In contrast to Halliday’s (1994) description of English Theme, the thematic potential of Pitjantjatjara clauses is not consumed until the Medium is identified. Example (16) also illustrates the contrast in thematic prominence between neutral (1) and foregrounded (+2,+3), realized by the relative salience of the experiential Theme. The neutral Theme of 1 is spoken on one rhythmic foot, whereas the foregrounded Themes of +2 and +3 occupy three and six feet. Furthermore the Medium identity in +2 is foregrounded by its active inflection. In this example, foregrounded Themes function discursively to foreground the changes in Medium identity in +2 and +3.

 David Rose

. mood In Pitjantjatjara, the grammatical resources of mood, and related systems of polarity, modal assessment and vocation enable speakers to adopt interactant roles in exchanges with each other, and to position their addressees in responding roles. In Anangu society, as in any other, each exchange involves a sequence of predictable choices from the interpersonal resources of the grammar, enabling people to negotiate their relationships, within the explicitly defined framework of tenor relations in a conservative egalitarian culture. The most general variables within these tenor relations are status and contact (as Martin 1992, describes for English). For example, where contact is close such as between siblings, status differences may be explicit, whereas in other situations Anangu will go to great lengths to avoid any implication of differences in status. These variations in tenor are illustrated below in texts 22 and 23.

.. Imperative clauses There are four sets of simultaneous options for imperative clauses. In imperative mood person, the person assigned modal responsibility for performing the proposed act may be the addressee(s), realizing a command, the speaker(s), realizing an offer, both addressee and speaker, realizing a suggestion, or a non-interactant. This person responsible for acting in imperative clauses is also always its Medium from an experiential perspective; so rather than invent a distinct interpersonal label for the same element, I have retained the term Medium in the realization statements below. (I have avoided the label “Subject” since there is no general interpersonal function in Pitjantjatjara that corresponds to that of Subject in English.)7 In orientation, the obligation may be oriented directly or obliquely according to the verb ending. In obviousness, the obligation may be construed as more or less self-evident, by means of modal items. In force the obligation may adjusted as neutral, mild, strong, insistent or uncertain by varying the tone contour of the imperative clause. These options for imperative clauses are set out in System 2. Most of the options in these four systems are illustrated in texts 22 and 23 in Section 9.3.4 below. As far as mood person is concerned, jussive, oblative, suggestive and optative options are exemplified as follows: [jussive oblative] (17) 1

uwa ngalya-pitja yes come hither-! “Alright, you come here,”

mild force + direct orientation

Pitjantjatjara  î

ê

jussive Medium: addressee(s) IMPERATIVE MOOD PERSON

explicit

oblative Medium: speaker suggestive Medium: speaker+addressee(s) optative Medium: non-interlocutor(s)

ORIENTATION*

direct Process: simple imperative verb oblique Process: verb stem; suffix -ma

free clause + Process í

ê

implicit

unmarked OBVIOUSNESS marked

FORCE

î

neutral Tone 5 mild Tone 1 or 3 strong Tone 1+ insistent Tone 5+ request Tone 2

high +Adjunct: uti low +Adjunct: tjinguru

System 2. Options for imperative clauses (*contrast not available if negative)

+2 ka ngayulu paka-ra ma-pitja and I getting up away-go-! “and I’ll get up and go away!”

neutral force + direct orientation

[suggestive] (18) a-ra -la // uru-kutu go-! we3 to waterhole “Let’s go to the waterhole!”

insistent force + direct orientation

 David Rose

[optative] (19)

neutral force paluru uti wangka-ma + oblique orientation -ma; s/he clearly should speak-! + high obviousness uti “Clearly she should speak.” (“should” is used to gloss -ma)

.. Indicative clauses Four sets of simultaneous options for indicative clauses are set out in System 3 below. Firstly there is a choice of indicative type between declarative, yes-no and nya-interrogatives. For declaratives there are further options in tagging and degrees of commitment to a statement (realized by tone contour), and for nyainterrogatives in element type and degrees offorce in the demand. Secondly there is the choice in indicative mood person, between interactant and noninteractant. Whereas in jussive imperative clauses the addressee may be implicit, in indicative clauses it is a non-interactant that may be the implicit mood person. Thirdly there are options for grading the probability of propositions by means of modal items. Fourth is the option of marking ability as positive or negative. Sub-types of indicative clauses are exemplified in Texts 22 and 23 below, including many examples of declarative clauses, and various examples of yes-no and nya-interrogatives. The latter cover a similar spread of transitivity functions as whquestions in English, but also include options for nya-processes, such as effective (20) and non-effective (21). (20) nyuntu palu-nya nyaa-nu you him did what? “What did you do to him?” // awai (21) nyaa-ri-nganyi what’s happening? hey? “What’s happening, ay?”

.. modal assessment Independent of these mood systems, Pitjantjatjara has further resources for adjusting interpersonal meanings in clauses, in options for modal assessment. These options are realized as modal Adjuncts that are words or clitics. The basic resources are set out in the following Table 9.8.

Pitjantjatjara 

î

ê ê

î

ê ê

INDICATIVE TYPE

+tag: panyatja; Tone 2 untagged neutral Tone 1

declarative í COMMITT -MENT

strong Tone 1+ committed Tone 1– uncommitted Tone 3 reserved Tone 4

î

î

yes/no interrogative

ê ê

ELEMENT TYPE

Tone 2

nya+Nya-element

free clause í

î

tagged

TAGGING

í

FORCE

î

implicit INDICATIVE MOODPERSON

non-interactant Medium: non-interactant

explicit

interactant Medium: interactant

non-probabilised

possible

probabilised

probable +Adjunct: manti; clitic-mpa

PROBABILITY

ABILITY

+Adjunct: tjinguru ; clitic -nti

unmarked marked +Process

certain +Adjunct: mantu; clitic-ntu able Process: habitual tense unable Process: durative; +Adjunct: putu

System 3. Options in indicative clauses

participant... circumstance... process... neutral Tone 5 mild Tone 1 strong Tone 1+ tagged Tone 5+

 David Rose

Table 9.8 modal assessment systems System USUALITY

DEGREE

REALITY: POSITIVE

REALITY: NEGATIVE CONTINUITY RESPONSIBILITY DEFERENCE DESIRE

feature occasionally sometimes frequently continually nearly utterly: positive utterly: negative really only just mistaken untrue transient permanent deflected deferent addressee other

item kutjupara kutjupara kutjupara tjuta ara rawa nguwanpa alatjitu wiyatu mulapa kutju unytju palku ngunti unytju rawa; -tu kunyu wanyu puta -wi

As well as these clause rank resources for specifying and intensifying modal assessments, Pitjantjatjara also has clause and group rank resources for specifying and intensifying qualities, in the clause as circumstances of Quality, and in nominal groups as Epithets and Intensifiers. Interpersonal Adjuncts in Table 9.8 are distinguished from these elements, because they are not inflected for transitivity as circumstances of Quality are, and do not occur within nominal groups as Epithets and Intensifiers do. Each of these options also interact with tone contours to enable speakers to negotiate judgements. These reactances are displayed in the following text examples.

.. Examples from discourse As rich as the interpersonal resources are outlined above, in discourse their deployment adds another layer of potential elaboration. Speakers negotiate their relationships and their judgements using combinations of these resources simultaneously in the same clause, and these combinations develop as an interaction unfolds. Furthermore, adult discourse is characterized by the use of interpersonal metaphors for proposals that deflect modal responsibility from the speaker or addressee, and open up the negotiability of the proposal. For these reasons, the mood and assessment resources set out above are exemplified here in the context of dialogue between various kin.

Pitjantjatjara 

Text 22: Two sisters Text 22 is a dialogue between an elder and younger sister, that illustrates their relationship of close contact but unequal status. The exchange begins as the younger sister (YZ) has just run back to her elder sister after discovering a large python kuniya in a burrow piti. She breathlessly exhorts her elder sister kangkuru (EZ) to come and see, the elder sister demands to know what she has seen, what she is talking about, and the younger sister explains with awe, what she has seen. Features selected in mood and modal assessment are labelled to the right of each line, in square brackets.

YZ1

2

EZ1

wanyu paka-ra pitja please getting up come-! “Please get up and come!”

[jussive; strong force; deference wanyu]

kangkuru // watja-lku-na-nta elder sister will tell -I -you? “Big sister, shall I tell you?”

[yes-no interrogative; mild vocation kangkuru]

nyaa-n nya-ngu // nyaa // nyaa what?-you did see what? what? “What did you see? What? What?”

[nya-interrog; neutral force; nya-inter. x 2; neutral force]

2

wala-ngku watja-la quickly tell! “Tell me quickly!”

[jussive; neutral force focused on quality wala-ngku]

3

nyaa-n wangka-nyi what?-you are saying “What are you saying?”

YZ3

wanyu puta // pitja-la nya-wa would you please coming look! “If you please, come and see!”

[nya-interrog; strong force]

[jussive; mild force; deference wanyu ; desire puta]

 David Rose

4

kuniya pulka alatjitu tjarpa-ngu [decl.; strong commitment utterly huge python did enter (a burrow) focused on size pulka] “There’s an absolutely huge python inside a burrow!”

5

piti-ngka -ni nguwanpa tjarpa-tju-nu into a burrow me nearly did drag in “It nearly dragged me into the burrow!”

6

pulka mulapa really big It’s really huge!

[decl.; strong commitment focused on degree nguwanpa]

[declarative; strong commitment focused on size pulka]

The roles of speech functions and other interpersonal choices in realizing status & contact in Text 22 are as follows. Firstly, the younger sister opens the exchange excitedly, with a direct command to her elder sister, but immediately moderates this, i) addressing her respectfully by her kinship term kangkuru, ii) offering to explain herself, modulating the offer with an interpersonal metaphor of mood, as a yesno interrogative “shall I tell you?”, in place of the congruent oblative imperative “I tell you”. This strategy defers to her elder sister by opening up the space for her to respond with a demand. The elder sister does respond with a series of strong demands, in EZ1 and 3 for information “What did you see?!”, and in 2 for a symbolic service, “Tell me quickly!”. The younger sister responds deferentially in YZ3 with a mild command modulated by wanyu puta “would you please...”, and in 4–6 with the information demanded by her elder sister. The unequal relationship between the two is expressed by the different mood and assessment choices the elder and younger sisters take up. On the other hand, close contact is realized by i) the directness of demands on the part of both sisters, ii) the kinship vocation kangkuru, and iii) by the intensity given to demands by the elder, and to qualities described by the younger. The inherent tension between close contact and unequal status is evoked in the younger sister’s blurting out a command to her sister, and then correcting it with a deferential offer. Her elder sister is able to demand answers so insistently, not only because she is dominant, but also because she is familiar. Text 23 is a conversation in the evening between four family members, planning a trip in the morning to gather bush foods. The interactants are the elder mother (M), her brother’s wife (BW), her son (S) and another son’s wife (SW). The plan is negotiated by means of a series of suggestions, affirmations, counter-

Pitjantjatjara 

suggestions, and resolutions. This is given here in English to orient the reader, before analysing the Pitjantjatjara moves one by one. Text 23: Family members planning a gathering trip M1

Perhaps in the morning we can gather tjala (honey ants), what do you think?

S1

Yes, definitely!

M2

Tomorrow morning in the daylight, we’ll go gathering, and we’ll show the children how to do it too.

BW1

Let’s head for the kurkur area (acacia bushes where honey ant nests are found).

M3

For the kurkur, and arnguli (bush plums) as well. Maybe we’ll get ili (wild figs). If you go over there you could gather and bring back plenty very quickly.

S2

Over there, lots of ili can be found. (indicating direction)

BW3

Yes.

M4

That’s true.

SW1

No, not there, over here! (indicating opposite direction)

M5

If we go over here (SW’s direction) we can have a look. Maybe there are plenty in this place.

SW2

That is the other day (my son) Mitaiki dug up and gathered plenty.

M6

There is ili here, so let’s go and look. Plenty of ili is there, so we can gather and bring it back -ili, and what else? -arnguli. We’ll gather arnguli. Halfway along the road there’s a lot. And as well we can get tjuratja (sweet grevillea flowers) afterwards.

The exchange begins with M’s suggestion to gather tjala “honey ants”. M1 kuwari -nti -la mungawinki tjala ura-lku // mulapa now maybe we3 in the morning tjala will gather really? [declarative; mild; possible; tagged] “Perhaps in the morning we can gather tjala what do you think?” Addressing the other adult family members, M1 uses five different strategies for modalizing her initial suggestion that “we might gather tjala “honey ants” in the morning”, in order to avoid any implication of power over the others.

 David Rose

i.

She uses declarative mood in place of imperative: hortative, effacing the obligation inherent in her suggestion with the metaphor of giving information rather than demanding compliance. ii. She lowers the certainty of the assertion with a clitic realizing low probability -nti “maybe”. iii. She reduces its assertive force further using mild tone 1, in contrast to the unmarked suggestive tone 5 (used later in M2, BW1, etc.). iv. She uses future tense ura-lku “will gather” because it expresses less certainty than present tense (later used in M2 ura-ni “are gathering”). v. She leaves it open for her listeners to agree or not, by means of the tag question mulapa “really?”. These strategies open up the interpersonal options for responding to M’s suggestion, by inviting her sister-in-law and adult son and daughter-in-law to provide certainty, acknowledging the equality of relationships with them, and the need to negotiate joint action, rather than command it. Accordingly, M’s son responds in D1 below, with an affirmation uwa mulapa “yes, really”, committed on tone 1–.

S1

uwa mulapa yes really “Yes, definitely!”

[affirmative; declarative; committed]

Her son’s affirmation encourages M who begins turning her suggestion into a plan in M2: (i) reiterating the time to gather, this time in present tense ura-ni, (ii) suggesting that “we show the children how to gather”, realized by the verb ungka-lyi-nanyi, also with indicative inflection like M1, but this time on the neutral imperative tone 5. M2 i kalala kuwari mungawinki ura-ni [declarative; mild force] this morning in the daytime are gathering “Tomorrow morning in the daylight, we’ll go gathering,” ii munu -la ungka-lyi-nanyi [declarative; neutral force] and we3 are training (the children how to do so) “and we’ll show the children how to do it too.” At this stage, M’s sister-in-law BW contributes to the plan, in BW1 below, with an elliptical suggestion of the destination to go to, kurkur, the acacia tree under which tjala are found.

Pitjantjatjara 

BW1 kurkur-ta-ku (heading) for the kurkur “Let’s head for the kurkur area.”

[imperative; ellipsed; neutral force]

BW’s suggestion is affirmed by M in M3, (i) re-stating it with commitment, and then (ii) elaborating it with other bush foods to collect, arnguli “bush plums” and ili “wild figs”. This is a suggestion with “we3” and tone 5, but with the verb ellipsed, and modalized by tjinguru, i.e. “maybe we’ll get ili”. She uses this modal item again in the next modalized suggestion (iii), which offers evidence to support the plan and translates as “you could probably drive over there, gather it and bring it back really quickly”. M3 i

kurkur-ta-ku // arnguli kulu for the kurkur arnguli (bush plums) as well “For the kurkur, and arnguli as well.”

[declarative; ellipsed; strong commitment]

ii

tjinguru -la ili [declarative; ellipsed; reserved; maybe we3 ili (wild figs) low obviousness tjinguru] “Maybe we’ll get ili.” iii nyara tjinguru wala pulka nyura ma-wirtjapaka-ra yonder maybe very fast you3 racing away ura-ra ngalya-kati-nyi [declarative; neutral commitment] gathering are bringing back “If you go over there you could gather and bring back plenty very quickly.” M’s son now makes an oblique suggestion in S2, by stating a location where “lots of ili grow”. His aunt BW responds politely to his suggestion with a neutral affirmation, in BW3, and his mother affirms it with commitment in M4. S2

nyaratja pakal-pai ili pulka [declarative; committed] yonder do come up lots of ili “Over there, lots of ili can be found.” (indicating direction)

BW3

uwa yes

M4

mulapa panya true (is) that “That’s true.”

[affirmation; neutral commitment]

[affirmation; committed]

 David Rose

However, as his brother’s wife SW is a classificatory spouse to S, and is free to talk openly to him. She negates S’s suggestion, in SW1 below, and on tone 5+ strongly suggests an alternative location “here”, pointing in the direction she means. SW1

wiya nyangatja [negation; imperative; ellipsed; insistent force] no (not there) here “No, not there, over here!” (indicating opposite direction)

M seizes this opportunity to agree with SW, without having to directly contradict S, in M5 (i) with the suggestion “lets go and look here”, (ii) with the modalized explanation that “(ili) may be in here”. M5 i

nyanga-ngka -la nya-wa anku-la [hortative; neutral force] at here we3 look-! (while) going “If we go over here (SW’s direction) we can have a look.”

ii

nyangatja tjinguru ngari-nyi unngu here maybe are lying inside “Maybe there are plenty in this place.”

[decl.; neutral commitment; low probability tjinguru]

SW then offers evidence in SW2 that her son “Mitaiki recently gathered tjala at this place”. SW2

mungatu panya Mitaiki-lu tjawa-ra ura-ningi [decl.; neutral the other day, that is Mitaiki was digging & gathering commitment] “That is the other day (my son) Mitaiki dug up and gathered plenty.”

M affirms SW’s statement in M6 by (i) repeating her suggestion “(let’s) go and look for ili here”, and (ii) elaborating it with “ili is there, so (let’s) gather it, and arnguli as well”. She then repeats this suggestion (iii), but modalized as an indicative “it’s arnguli we are gathering”, and elaborates it (iv) with a committed statement of the location of a lot of arnguli, and a suggestion (v) that “we then (gather) tjuratja grevillea flowers” (for nectar to make sweet cordial). M6 i

ili nyangatja anku-la nya-wa ili here going look-! “There is ili here, so let’s go and look.”

[imperative; neutral force]

Pitjantjatjara 

ii

ili ngara-ma ili does stand “Plenty of ili is there,”

[decl.; neutral commitment]

ka ura-ra kati // ili munu nyaapa // arnguli [imp.; so gathering bring-! ili and what? arnguli neutral force] “so we can gather and bring it back – ili, and what else? – arnguli.” iii arnguli -la ura-ni arnguli we3 are gathering “We’ll gather arnguli.”

[declarative; neutral commitment]

iv road-angka kultu pulka ngari-nyi halfway along the road a lot is lying “Halfway along the road there’s a lot.” v

[declarative; committed]

munu -la piruku munu tjuratja -lta [decl.; neutral] and we3 further and tjuratja at that “And as well we can get tjuratja (sweet grevillea flowers).”

M is clearly the leader of her family in this context, of planning a gathering expedition; she initiates the plan and of the 21 clauses spoken in Text 23, 14 are hers. She makes all the proposals for action except for BW’s elliptical suggestion kurkurtaku “to the kurkur area”, S’s suggestion nyaratja “yonder”, and SW’s response nyangatja “here”. However M does not explicitly dominate the group with any direct commands, or unmodalized statements; all her proposals and supporting evidence are proffered with probabilities and oblique orientations, realized by mild tones, modal items like -nti and tjinguru, and metaphors of mood such as indicatives standing for proposals. Opening up the interpersonal space in this way encourages the group to participate. As they do so, agreement for M’s plan accumulates, and the need for modalizing her suggestions diminishes. These two exchanges illustrate something of the range of possible relationships and discursive strategies for enacting them in Western Desert culture. Text 22 illustrated a relationship between siblings which, although unequal, is familiar and solidary, expressed deferentially by the younger sibling with modalizing and interpersonal metaphor and by the older sister with direct strong demands. Text 23 illustrated a set of relationships between family members that require mutual respect, if a plan is to be negotiated successfully. This is expressed as mutual deference, using modalization and interpersonal metaphor. Such deployments of

 David Rose

interpersonal resources are probably familiar to any culture, and are comparable with Martin’s (1992) analysis of resources for realizing status and contact in English exchanges. In the case of Western Desert culture their deployment cumulatively constructs a social system based on respect between equals.

. transitivity The transitivity functions of Medium, Range and Circumstance, discussed in Section 9.2.2 above, are highly generalized roles. Their significance is apparent below the clause in the system of nominal inflection, and above the clause in discourse patterns of theme and participant identification. More specifically the transitivity system distinguishes three types of figure – actions, significations and relations (terms from Martin 1996). Action and signifying processes are both realized by a Medium + Process nucleus, but in signifying processes i) the Medium must be a conscious Senser or Sayer (typically human), and ii) the signifying process can project ideas and locutions. Relational figures may be realized simply by contiguity of elements, or with processes of inception, possession or stance. Within each type of figure there are finer distinctions in types of doing, signifying and relating, each involving a unique set of participants. Circumstances may freely associate with different types of figures. General recognition criteria for distinguishing figure types include: – – – – – –

whether the figure involves a process, the type of process realized by the verb: material, verbal, mental, stance, etc., the type of entity instantiating the Medium: active, social or conscious, the inherent number of participants: 1, 2 or 3, the inflection of (pro)nominal groups realizing the participants, the potential for projection of locutions or ideas.

.. figure type Participant functions specific to process types are correlated in Table 9.9 below with generalized nuclear functions of Medium, Range and Agent.8 The following Text 24 is an extract from a traditional narrative, chosen because it displays a representative cross-section of experiential resources. The story begins with two sisters busily digging out burrows looking for small game. One sister tells the other to go and fetch a long stick wili, for feeling into burrows, but while going to do so she finds a burrow made by two wanampi serpents, gigantic mythic pythons that dwell in the sacred waterhole of Piltati. These wanampi are actually the sisters’ own husbands who have transformed themselves. In this

Pitjantjatjara 

Table 9.9 Participant functions by figure types

extract the woman sees the tail of a wanampi lying in the mouth of the burrow, and mistakes it for the tail of an ordinary desert python kuniya. The selection in process type is specified to the right of each clause, in square brackets, and transitivity functions are labelled in bold beneath each group. Ellipsed participants are glossed in brackets and also given functional labels, in order to make the transitivity functions clear. Text 24: Piltati (extract 1)

1

=2

+3.1

“3.2

+4

Figure type [action]

ka kangkuru-rara panya kutjara tjawa-ningi and those two sisters were digging Actor Process “...and those two sisters were digging.” watarku minyma kutjara tjawa-ningi tjawa-ra tjawa-ra [action] heedlessly two women were digging digging digging Quality Actor Process Duration “Heedlessly the two women were digging, continuously.” ka ø watja-nu [signification] and (one) commanded Sayer Process “Then one sister told the other,” ø wanyu wili mantji-la [action] (you) ‘please’ long stick fetch-! Actor Goal Process ““Please fetch a long stick.”” ka kutju a-nu [action] and one did go Actor Process “So the other sister went,”

 David Rose

+5.1

‘5.2

‘5.3

=6

=7.1

‘7.2

munu ø anku-la nya-ngu and (she) going along did see Senser Process “and while going along she saw,” nyaa nyangatja pupa-nyi “what? this is crouching” Attribute Carrier Process “What is this here?” ø wanampi-purunpa “(it) like a wanampi serpent” Carrier Attribute “It is like a wanampi serpent.” kuniya -lta palku a desert python that (was) mistakenly Attribute Carrier “She mistook it for a desert python.” piti tjaa ø nya-ngu a mouth of a burrow (she) did see Phenomenon Senser Process It was the mouth of a burrow that she saw, nyangatja piti tjaa “this (is) a mouth of a burrow” Carrier Attribute “This is a mouth of a burrow.”

[signification]

[relation]

[relation]

[relation]

[signification]

[relation]

The story of Text 24 unfolds as an activity sequence (Martin 1992), but this is not simply a sequence of material events. Three events are material actions (1–2 “digging”, 3.2 “fetching”, 4 “going”), but other events include verbal interaction (3 “commanding”) and perception (5–7 “seeing”). The sequence 3–4 construes verbal interaction as an exchange, with one sister demanding a service (3), to which the other complies by going (4). The discursive function of including this exchange in the story is to ground the discovery of the wanampi in the sisters” relationship. It is the younger sister who finds the wanampi burrow, but this is the result of the older sister demanding a service of her. What the younger sister perceives are things – something that looks like a wanampi (5.3), but which she mistakes for a kuniya (6), and the mouth of burrow piti tjaa (7). But these perceptions are construed not merely as things. Rather the story tells us what the sister thought as she saw them, using the same resources for quoting speech as in the verbal interaction – “What is this?” she asks herself, “It’s like a wanampi.” and then states to herself “This is the mouth of a burrow.” But note that these internal questions and statements are not projected by a process of saying as in (3), but by the process of

Pitjantjatjara 

seeing itself, as though perceiving were experienced by the Senser as inner speech. This enables the perception to be expanded in two dimensions. Firstly it enables the storyteller to express the Senser’s feeling in response to a perception, by means of mood and intonation, e.g. surprise, horror, joy; in 5.2 a puzzled response is realized with a nya-question. Secondly it enables the perceived phenomenon to be grounded in a concrete situation, by means of a reference item as Carrier in an attributive relation – nyangatja “this” (5.2, 7.2) or implicit “(it)” (5.3). This construes the woman’s mental processing as a sequence of perceptions of relations between features of the environment, and lexicalized categories of things, such as wanampi or piti tjaa. Perception is construed here as a linguistic process of classifying and labelling entities; the entity perceived instantiates a lexicalized class of phenomena. This conscious activity of ascribing class labels to perceived phenomena is made explicit in the nya-question (5.2), in which the Senser asks herself what kind of thing “this” is. The same strategy of ascribing a label to a referent is also used in the comment in 6, in which the Carrier is the anaphoric clitic -lta “that” (6) and its Attribute is the misapprehended kuniya. This construal of perception as classification of phenomena is further expanded by the use of comparative attribution in 5.3, which implies that the perceived entity shared some characteristics with the category wanampi, but not enough to label it categorically, rather it is wanampi-purunypa “like a wanampi”. (Earlier in the story the specific resemblance was made explicit, as both wanampi and kuniya have short thin tails at the end of their bodies.) The discursive function of the woman’s misapprehension follows this extract: thinking that it is merely a kuniya, she attempts to pull it out, but is nearly dragged into the burrow herself, leading to the exchange with her sister presented as Text 22 above. It is in the context of discourse that the Western Desert theory of experience immanent in the grammar of transitivity becomes apparent. Most generally it is experienced as process – the meaning of a clause as a quantum of change, or as a relation of attribution or identity that may be more persistent. But material processes and relations in our external environment are not the only types of experience grammaticalized in the transitivity system, the experience of perceiving them is too, as is the experience of social interaction. The potential of the system to construe reality is drawn on dynamically as a text unfolds, to construe experience as sequences of such figures. Each sequence represents an instance in the ongoing history of experience in the culture. But despite the complexity of experience construed in the patterns of transitivity in Text 24, it is by no means the whole story. Each figure is construed as constituted of the elements process, participants and circumstances. Reality is further categorized, identified and processed within each of these elements. Participants may be persons, things or qualities that may be modified with qualities, number and deixis. Processes may be inflected to indicate time and duration, and may also be complexed to realize lexical items unique to the

 David Rose

language, such as anku-la nya-ngu “saw while going along” (5.1). When relations require temporalizing, they may be realized by verbs of stance, such as pupa-nyi “is crouching” (5.2), or nyina-nyi “sitting”, ngara-nyi “standing, or ngari-nyi “lying”.9 Circumstances construe a range of experiential categories that may be associated with the clause nucleus or a participant. The general set of circumstantial options are presented in the following section, before turning to analyses of figure types.

.. circumstantiation Circumstances are associated with a figure by various types of logico-semantic relation. Many of these options are exemplified throughout the text examples in this section: i.

They may elaborate the figure with a Role (Text 26: line 2), Comparison (39:7), Quality (24:2) or Bodily Means. Each of these elaborating circumstances inflects for transitivity, as active or neutral. This inflection mirrors the transitivity role of the element elaborated by the circumstance – Medium, Range or Process. ii. They may extend it with an Addition, Possession (39:4), Accompaniment (39:5) or Means. These are realized by nominal groups with an additive, possessive or locative suffix. iii. They may enhance it with Duration (24:2), Location in Time or Place (39:2–3), Destination, Purpose, Behalf or Reason. Duration is realized by a verb series, Location by a nominal group with locative, allative, ablative, or processive suffixes, Destination and Behalf by genitive, Purpose by purposive, and Reason by ablative suffixes. These general options, realizations and glosses are set out in Table 9.10. Not included in Table 9.10 are options for realizing Location with spatial demonstratives, e.g. nyaratja “yonder”, and temporal adverbs, e.g. kuwari “now” or mungatu “recently”. As can be seen Pitjantjatjara circumstances cover a similar logico-semantic spread to circumstances in languages such as English, and are realized by similar means, nominally or adverbially. One exception to commonalities with English is Bodily Means which differs from Means in that the body part is inflected as though it elaborates the Actor (like a Role or Quality), e.g. ngayulu mara-ngku pungu “I, hand did hit” rather than extending it with a separate instrument, e.g. ngayulu punu-ngka pungu “I hit with a stick”. Another major difference is the realization of temporal Duration as a series of non-finite verbs, e.g. tjawa-ra tjawa-ra “digging digging”. This contrasts with the realization of Duration in SAE languages which Whorf characterized as “objectifying” time as a nominal group or prepositional phrase. The following Pitjantjatjara

Pitjantjatjara

Table 9.10 Options in circumstantiation Enhancing Duration

structural realization iterated realis process, e.g. ankula ankula ankula nominal gp-locative -ngka, -la nom gp-allative -kutu

“going going going” “at, in (place or time)” “to (place or time)”

Destination Purpose Reason Behalf

nom gp-ablative -nguru nom gp-processive -wanu nom gp-genitive -ku nom gp-purposive -kitja nom gp-ablative -nguru nom gp-genitive -ku

“from (place or time)” “through (place or time)” “(heading) for (place)” “in order to do (thing)” “from doing (thing)” “for (person)”

Extending Accompaniment Addition Possession Means

nom gp-locative -ngka, -la nom gp-additive -kulukulu nom gp-possessive -tjara nom gp-locative ngka, -la

“with (person/thing)” “as well as (person/thing)” “with (possession)” “with (instrument)”

Elaborating Bodily Means Role Comparison Quality

nom gp+/– active -ngku nom gp+/– active -ngku nom gp-purunypa +/– active -tju adverbial gp+/– active -ngku

“using (body part)” “as (role)” “like (person/thing)” quality-“ly”

Location:

rest movement towards away from through

gloss

clause (25) represents a single process of “travelling”, realized by a finite verb anangi “was going”, but whose duration in time is strung out through a series of circumstances of Quality (realized adverbially), Duration (realized verbally) and Place (realized nominally). (25) ka paluru a-nangi alatjitu titutjara anku-la anku-la anku-la and s/he was going utterly continually going going going Medium Process Quality Quality Duration ngura nyara wanu wati-pitja-la wati-pitja-la wati-pitja-la through yonder place crossing crossing crossing Place Duration anku-la anku-la anku-layii going going going Duration “He was travelling continually, for a very very long way, through that country yonder (pointing out direction), continually travelling across there, for a very very long time.”



David Rose material non-ranged behavioural Actor: conscious

noneffective

action clause



ranged

EFFECT effective TYPE +Goal; Actor: hyperanimate

regulated +Behaviour

SOCIAL social Actor: conscious BEHAVIOUR

aural +Source

spatio-temporal +Domain

gestural +Target

natural cultural Actor: social

dispositive +Recipient creative

System 4. action systems

.. Action The action region of the transitivity system construes experience as entities acting in space-time. The primary distinction is between effective and non-effective actions. Effective actions impact on a Goal. They may be natural actions with nonanimal Actors, e.g. mina-ngku puyi-ni “rain is chilling” (i.e. “it’s raining”); while in cultural actions Actors are typically human, or at least animals. In Pitjantjatjara discourse, it is overwhelmingly people who act on the world, and very rarely the reverse. Non-effective actions are most frequently non-ranged, involving Actor alone (intransitive), or they may be ranged, involving a second participant that the process is extended to, but does not have an effect on, Domain, Behaviour, Source or Target. These options are set out in System 4. By far the most frequent options, with the largest verbal lexis, are effective creative actions and non-effective material actions. Effective and non-effective actions are exemplified in Text 26, another extract from the Piltati myth. This extract exemplifies effective and non-effective action in the context of an activity sequence involving two men and two women. Experiential roles are labelled for each action clause, and their effectivity value is given to the right. Text 26: Piltati (extract 2)

1

wati kutjara kunyu kuta-rara nyina-ngi two men it’s said brother-pair were sitting “It’s said that there were two men who were brothers.”

Action type (relation)

Pitjantjatjara

effective

2

kungkawara kutjara ø alti-ngu, kangkuru-rara two young women (they) married sister-pair Goal Actor Process Role “They married two young women who were sisters.”

3

wati kutjara pula a-nu malu-ku they2 two men went for kangaroos Actor Process Purpose “Those two men went hunting for kangaroos.”

non-effective

4

kuka kanyila-ku ø tati-nu puli-ngka for wallaby game (they) climbed up in the hills Purpose Actor Process Place “For wallabies, that is, they climbed up in the hills,”

non-effective

+5

munu pula kuka kanyila kati-ngu and-sm they 2 wallaby game brought back Actor Goal Process “and they brought back wallaby meat to the camp.”

effective

+6

ka pula mai-ku tjaru-ukali-ngu non-effective and-sw they 2 for vegetable food descended down Actor Purpose Process “Meanwhile the other two for went down to the plain, looking for vegetable foods,” non-effective munu pula mai ili ura-ningi and-sm they 2 fig food were collecting Actor Goal Process “and were collecting wild figs.”

+7

+8

munu pula mai _kati-ra_u-ngu wati kutjara effective: and they2 food bringing gave to the two men dispositive Actor Goal Process Recipient “Then they brought the vegetable foods back and shared them with the 2 men”

+9

munu kuka _wiya-ringku-la _ailuru-ri-ngu and game finishing a drought began “Then all the game was finished as a drought began.”

10

non-effective ø putu _tjawa-ra _pitja-ngi (they) unable digging were coming Actor Process “Unable to dig anything up, the women were coming back to camp emptyhanded.”

(relation)



 David Rose

+11

munu pula kunyu pararitja-kutu a-nu and they2 it’s said far away went Actor Place Process “Then it’s said they travelled far away,”

non-effective

+12

munu pula ma-antjakari-ngu and they2 camped away overnight Actor Process “and camped away overnight.”

non-effective

+13

munu pula ngarin-tjanu-ngku and they2 after sleeping Actor Process “Then after sleeping,”

non-effective

pungku-la antjakaringku-la wirkati-ngu effective & killing, camping out, finally arrived non-effective Process Process Process “killing small game and camping out further, they finally arrived (at a distant place).” Material and creative actions predominate in Text 26. This stage of the story is a sequence of the brothers and sisters acting purposefully in time and space, moving, stopping, performing (non-effective), and transforming, transporting or exchanging other entities (effective). These processes construe the socio-economic activities of the culture, explicitly contrasting the purposes, processes and objects of men’s and women’s economic activity: the men “climb for game”, the women “descend for vegetable food”, which they share on returning to camp. The place of each these processes in the transitivity system are set out in Table 9.11. To the left of the table the most general categories of experience are realized grammatically. To the right the most delicate categories are specified lexically. Table 9.11 Functions of action processes in Text 26 Grammatical nonnoneffective ranged

Lexical moving stopping

a-nanyi “going”, tati-ni “climbing”, pitja-nyi “coming” antjakari-nyi “camp away for the night”, ngari-nyi “lying” performing tjawa-ni “digging” ranged alti-ni “marrying (inviting/calling)” effective creative transforming pu-nganyi “killing (hitting)” transporting kati-ni “bringing”, ura-ni “gathering”, wirkati-nyi “finally arriving” dispositive u-nganyi “giving”

Pitjantjatjara

Another significant feature of Text 26 is the clause complex +13, that consists of a series of non-finite clauses concluding with a finite clause, δ → γ → β → α. Such hypotactic clause series represent a temporal sequence of events that are partially discrete, but oriented towards completion in the final finite process. In discourse they alternate with the additive option for sequencing finite clauses, exemplified in Text 26 as 4+5+6+7+8, etc., which construes each event as wholly discrete, and added to the preceding event rather than heading towards a goal. As mentioned above, such hypotactic clause series are a characteristic feature of Australian and Papuan languages, sometimes known as “clause-chaining” or “serial verbs”. They are also a common feature of spoken English (Martin 1988). The less frequent non-effective actions are exemplified as follows. Non-ranged behaviour includes verbal or mental processes that do not signify anything; the Actor is conscious but the action is construed simply as behaviour, such as walpa wangka-nyi “wind is talking”. Regulated social behaviour includes activities such as singing, performing and playing games (27). The Range is a name for the behaviour, and the Actor is not inflected as active. In aural behaviour the Range is a speaker or other sound source that is inflected as locative (28). Gestural behaviour includes non-verbal actions like laughing, and the Range is the target of the gesture, inflected as locative (29). Spatio-temporal Domain is construed as an unaffected second participant, such as a hill that is climbed; it is not inflected as a locative circumstance, and the Actor is not inflected as active (30). [regulated social behaviour] (27) kungka tjuta inma inka-nyi many girls song are playing (i.e. “singing”) Actor Behaviour Process “The girls are singing a song.” [aural behaviour] (28) ka panya Tonkin-tu kuli-ningi nyara anangu tjuta-ngka and that Tonkin was listening to those people Actor Process Source “...and that man Tonkin (SA Premier) was listening to those people.” [gestural behaviour] (29) ka paluru ngayu-la ikari-ngu and he at me laughed Actor Target Process “...and he laughed at me.”



 David Rose

[spatio-temporal domain] (30) ka nyantju panya wala winki puli tati-nu and that horse very quickly hill climbed Actor Quality Domain Process “...and that horse climbed the hill really fast.”

.. Signification The two types of signifying processes, verbal and mental, represent a move by a Sayer in a verbal exchange, or the internal conscious processing of a Senser. Both have the option of representing signification as direct or indirect speech, i.e. as “quoted wording” or as “reported meaning”. So the two modes of semiosis, interpersonal and intra-personal, are both construed as linguistic phenomena at two levels, as lexicogrammar and as semantics. Both may also represent the act of meaning as a thing, that is a concrete or abstract entity that is said or sensed. Structurally, mental process clauses are distinguished from verbal ones most generally by the verb instantiating the signifying Process, i.e. either a type of saying or of sensing, and by the option of including the exchange participant Receiver in verbal clauses.

... Verbal processes In Pitjantjatjara verbal processes, only nominal groups denoting people may realize the role of Sayer, except in the case of mythic beings that are simultaneously human and animal. This contrasts with the model of verbal processing in written languages such as English where any entity capable of symbolizing, such as clocks or books, may function as Sayer. Projected locutions may be paratactic, i.e. “quoted speech”, or hypotactic, “reported speech”, and either a proposition or proposal. These options are set out in System 5. Direct speech is the most frequent choice in verbal projections; it enables the speaker to reproduce the intonation, rhythm and “timbre” of the quoted speech act, opening up a large potential for expressing attitude towards both the Sayer and the locution. A common device is imitating or exaggerating the character of the Sayer, to amuse listeners who know the person, or to develop the character of a participant in a narrative. Since speakers are able to play around with the phonology of locutions to diversify varieties of saying, the range of “saying” verbs is limited, distinguishing speech functions and genres rather than attitude (whereas written languages such as English may have a large “saying” lexis). Probably the most common environment for projected locutions is in narrative. The following extract, Text 31, exemplifies projected propositions and proposals in an exchange between a younger and elder brother, YB and EB. In the transcription here, tone contours of projected clauses are presented to illustrate

Pitjantjatjara

verbal clause + Sayer + locution

ê

LOCUTION TYPE

í

ê

î

non-evaluative + Verbiage

name locution: nom gp

î

locution: clause

RECEPTION

receiver + Receiver

text Verbiage: semiotic

evaluative + Target

î

projection

matter Verbiage: material

ê ê

í î

proposition proposal metalocution finite clause macrolocution non-finite clause

no receiver

System 5. Options in verbal clauses

how the exchange is construed by the narrator. (Projecting clauses always come first and are normally not on separate tone groups.) Text 31: Two brothers

1.1 ka nyanga-ngku wangka-ngu and this one said Sayer Process “...and this one (the younger brother) said,” 1“2 kuta // ngari-ku -na nyanga-ngka EB will lie I here? ““Big brother, may I lie here?””

Projected speech function (+ projected voice quality)

“question” (deferential alto)

+2.1 ka ø watja-nu and-sw (EB) told Sayer Process “And the older brother replied,” 2“2 wiya patu a-ra no far away go-! ““No, go and lie far away from me!””

“command” (peremptory tenor)



 David Rose

+3.1 ka-l ø watja-nu and-sw-at that (YB) told Sayer Process “And at that the younger brother replied,” 3“2 wiya // kuta ila -na ngarin-tjikitja “echo question∧ statement” no? EB close I (wish) to lie (imploring) ““No? Big brother I want to lie close to you.”” 4“1 ma-ngari-ma “lie apart-!” “Sleep away from me!”

“command” (gruff)

Note how the switch Medium conjunction ka “and-sw” is used to switch between Sayers in this exchange, i.e. 1 (YB) → +2(EB) → +3(YB). In the final move 4, the projecting clause is ellipsed and the Sayer’s identity is realized by the gruff voice quality of the elder brother.

... Mental processes Options for mental processing in the language include choices in mental type, perception of, or reaction to, phenomena that are either external or internal to the Senser’s consciousness. As with verbal processes, phenomenalization may be represented as a clause participant, a Phenomenon, or as a projected clause, an idea. î I reaction

î

ê

MENTAL TYPE

ê î

cognitive Process: cognitive non-induced induced + Inducer

perception

mental clause í + Senser; + Phenomenon

ê

ê í

affective Process: affective

PHENOMENALISATION

î

System 6. Options for mental process

hyperphenomenal

T macrophenomenal Phenom: clause, non-finite

phenomenal Phenom: nom. gp.

metaphenomenal Phenom: clause, finite

Pitjantjatjara 

Reaction projects an idea as an irrealis non-finite clause, while perception typically projects an idea as a finite clause. These options are set out in System 6. Perception and reaction differ in their construal of the nature of the process and its relation to the phenomenon. In perception, the phenomenon is construed as a semiotic outcome of perceiving. Reaction on the other hand is construed as a change in the Senser in reaction to the phenomenon. Internal perception is typically realized by the verb kulini. This may be an individual process of thinking, or a collective one (32) in which thinking is construed as internal to the Sensers’ consciousness, but at the same time as social, since two or more people are thinking together. Text 32.

Here kulini means “judging” (1’2) and then “exhorting ourselves” (2’2).

1.1 ka -la pala palu-la kuli-ni and we3 at that there are thinking Senser Time Process “So at that point we were thinking,” 1‘2 nyanga palu-nya piranpa-ku idea pitja-ntja this here whitefellow’s idea [[coming]] ““This here is a whitefellow’s idea that’s come along.””

“statement’

+2.1 ka -la kuli-ni and we3 are thinking Senser Process “So we were thinking,” 2‘2 uti nganana kuli-lku clearly we3 will think ““Clearly we should think for ourselves.””

“suggestion”

As discussed in the context of Text 26 above, processes of “seeing”, “hearing” or “feeling” phenomena that are external to the Senser’s consciousness are construed in the same manner as processes of “thinking (about)” phenomena internal to one’s consciousness. McGregor (1992) notes a similar feature in the Kimberley language, Kuniyanti, and his examples show that both internal and external projected perception are represented as quoted speech. Reaction processes are realized by verbs of affective and some cognitive qualities, that are inflected for inceptive aspect, suggesting a mental process of qualities coming into being. The Senser in a reaction is inflected as neutral and the phenomenon is either a nominal element with the genitive inflection -ku (33), or a projected non-finite process (34). The inflections of these nominal and verbal phe-

 David Rose

nomena both suggest an external stimulus which the internal reaction is directed towards, in time or space, e.g. “desiring for a thing” or “desiring to do”. (33) nyuntu nyaa-ku ngayu-ku pikari-nganyi you why? to me are being angry Senser Reason Phenomenon Process “Why are you angry at me?” (34) α paluru kuntari-nganyi β anangu tjuta-ngka wangka-ntjikitja he is embarrassed to many people to talk-sm Senser Process macrophenomenon “He is embarrassed talking in front of many people.” Reactions construe this realm of mental activity as incipient qualities,10 such as pika “angry” or kunta “embarrassed” that may otherwise function to describe people with Attributes in relations (see next section) or Epithets in nominal groups, e.g. wati pikati “cranky man”. Reactions are generally social processes, that Myers (1986) describes as functioning to internalize the values of Western Desert culture. Reactions are ether positive or negative, as listed in Table 9.12. It is noteworthy that “learning” is construed in Pitjantjatjara as a quality ninti “knowledgeable/clever” that comes into being, on the same model as affective reactions. Many verbs that realize mental reaction also have corresponding causative forms, which involve an additional agentive participant, the Inducer, as well as a Senser and Phenomenon (35). (35) α ngayuku tjamu-ngku -ni ninti-nu β punu palya-ntjaku grandfather me did teach to make artefacts-sw Inducer Senser Process macrophenomenon “My grandfather taught me to make artefacts.”

Table 9.12 Types of mental reactions positive mukuringanyi unyturinganyi raparinganyi

liking, wanting, desiring desiring, loving feeling brave, confident

ngalturinganyi pukularinyi

feeling sympathy feeling happy

nintiringanyi

learning

negative kuraringanyi watjilarinyi nguluringanyi kuntaringanyi nyararinganyi mirparinganyi waruringanyi pikaringanyi ngurparinganyi

disliking, hating longing, feeling homesick fearing feeling shy, ashamed feeling jealous feeling offended getting heated getting angry forgetting

Pitjantjatjara

.. Relation Relational clauses enable an entity to be related to another element in two general ways, attributing to it a general class, quality, possession or circumstance, or identifying it with a unique characteristic such as name, role or owner. This semantic contrast between generality and definiteness is exemplified in the choice of nya-questions between nyaa “what?” (36) and ngananya “who/which one” (37). [attributive] (36) A

B

nyangatja nyaa this what? Carrier Attribute: nya-question “What is this?” wiya nyanga kura kura no this no good Carrier Attribute: quality “No, this is no good.”

[identifying] (37) A

B

wati palatja ngananya that man who? Value Token: nya-question “Who is that man?” paluru ngayuku katja he my son Value Token: kin relation “He is my son.”

Attributive relations may be intensive (either classifying or describing), possessive, or circumstantial, but identifying relations are inherently intensive. Attributive relations also have a further option in temporality. Since mood, tense, phase and aspect are realized by inflection of verbs in Pitjantjatjara, relational clauses without verbs are inherently indicative and “timeless”, i.e. the relation is construed as persistent rather than unfolding. Where an attributive relation requires temporalizing, i.e. to be grounded temporally or modally, it can be realized by a relational process, either by verbalizing the nominal group functioning as Attribute, with inceptive aspect “becoming thing/quality”, or by a separate possessive verb kanyi-ni “having”, or verbs of stance for circumstantial relations. As System 7 shows, both attributive and identifying relations also have the option of being caused by an additional agent, who assigns an Attribute or an Token. For example, the process of assigning a name (38).



 David Rose

î

relational clause

î

ê ê

ê ê

attributive í + Carrier; + Attribute RELATION TYPE

î

intensive

classifying Attr: thing

describing possessive Attr: possession circumstantial Attr: circumstance

material Attr: material quality mental reaction Attr: mental quality; (+ Phenomenon)

persistent unfolding +Process

identifying + Value; +Token

í

non-caused CAUSATION

î

caused + Agent

System 7. General options for relational clauses

(38) nyaaku piranma-ngku ini panya tju-nu Council nyangatja why? the whites this name did put (to) this Council Purpose Assigner Token Process Value “Why have the whites given this name to this Council?” Many options for relational clauses are displayed the following Text 39, an extract from a mythic narrative recounting the people’s original acquisition of fire. The orientation stage of Text 39 is concerned with establishing the location of the activity sequence, the possessions of the core participants and qualities. Attributive relations are employed in clauses 2–9 and 13 to do so. In the transcription here, types of circumstantial Attributes are specified as place, accompaniment and quality. (These and other circumstances are discussed further in the following section.) Where the Carrier is implicit it is glossed and labelled in brackets. Text 39: Kipara

1

ø tjukurpa kunyu (this) a Dreaming story it’s said (Carrier) Attribute “This is a Dreaming story, I have been told.”

Attributive type intensive

Pitjantjatjara 

=2

anangu tjuta nyina-ngi manta nyanga-ngka many people were sitting in this land Carrier Process Attribute: place “People were living in this land.”

circumstantial

3

manta wingki-ngka kunyu nyina-ngi anangu tjuta in all lands it’s said were sitting many people Attribute: place Process Carrier “In all the lands, it’s said, the people were living.”

circumstantial

+4

munu ya paluru tjana waru kurakura kanyi-ningi tili maru-tjara poss. and they those ones useless fire were having with black brands Carrier Attribute Process Possession “But at that time the people had useless fire, with black firebrands.”

5

tili maru-tjara ø kunyu nyina-ngi with black brands (they) it’s said were sitting Attribute: poss. (Carrier) Process “With black firebrands, it’s said they were living.”

circumstantial

6

nya-wa tjana putu kunyu waru mantji-ningi look-! they unable it’s said fire were getting “Look, it’s said they were unable to make fire.”

(action)

7

munga-purunypa maru-ngka munga maru-ngka circumstantial like night in darkness in dark night Attribute: comp. Place Place “It was like perpetual night, like living in darkness, in the dark night,”

+8

munu tjana-ya watarku nyina-ngi circumstantial and they-they in ignorance were sitting Carrier Attribute: quality Process “but furthermore those people were living in ignorance.”

+9

ka kunyu wati kutju-ngku Kipara-ngku tili wiru-tjara-ngka nyina-ngi circ. and it’s said one man Kipara with good brands was sitting Carrier Attr: accomp Process “But apparently there was one man, Kipara who was living with fire with good brands.”

+10α ka ngura kutjupa tjuta-ngka wati kutjupa tjuta-ngku kuli-ni and in many different places many different men think wati kutju (sig.) one man “So in numerous places, a great many men were thinking of this one man,”

 David Rose

+10β mantji-ntjikitja waru palu-nya to get that fire “of getting that fire from him.”

(action)

+11

ka ya palu-nya putu mantji-ra and they it unable getting tjulya-ra wana-ra tjulya-ra wana-ra (action) snatching following snatching following “But they were unable to get it, as they snatched at it, and followed him continuously.”

=12

wati kutjupa tjuta-ngku tjulya-ningi putu many different men were snatching unable “All those men were unable to snatch the fire from him.”

+13

ka ø tjilka-ri-ngu intensive: inceptive and (this) became the tjilka (Carrier) Attribute “And this journey was transformed into the tjilka (initiation ceremonial journey).”

14

tjilka-rara alatjitu kati-ngu (action) tjilka group exactly did bring “It was the tjilka host itself that was carried along in this journey.”

(action)

The relational clauses in Text 39 well illustrate the temporalizing function of expressing relations with a verb. Two relations are persistent: clause 1 refers to the present “(this is) tjukurpa”, while in 5 persistent past time is implicit munga purunypa “(it was) like night”. Others are temporalized in order to locate the relation in the past time of the story. The circumstantial relations (2, 3, 4, 5, 8) are construed as unfolding, but they are still relatively persistent with past durative tense: nyinangi “was being”, kanyi-ningi “was having”. By contrast the inceptive relation in 13 came into being just once, with the punctiliar past tense tjilka-ri-ngu “did become tjilka”. Two other significant sets of features displayed in this text are the functions of implicit Carriers, and expanding circumstances at the end of clauses. In clause 1 the implicit Carrier is the following text, classified as tjukurpa; in 5 it is the whole world, which is compared with munga “night”; in 13 it is the preceding activity sequence, that “became the tjilka ceremonies”. By means of such implicit reference, abstract entities such as activity sequences are identified in the language without needing to lexicalize them, and causal relations can be inferred between events of the Dreaming, such as “the origin of fire” and their contemporary consequences, such as the tjilkatja initiation ceremonies (Rose 1993, 2001). By such means abstract concepts can be construed at the discourse semantic level, without requiring

Pitjantjatjara 

the lexicogrammatical resources for abstraction characteristic of written modes in other cultures (as in this chapter for example). Expanding circumstances are illustrated in clauses 4, 7 and 9. In 4 a circumstance of Possession tili maru-tjara “with black coals” expands on the qualities of the Attribute waru kurakura “useless fire”. In clause 7, the circumstances of Place maru-ngka “in the night” and munga maru-ngka “in the dark night” expand on the Attribute munga purunypa “like night”. Expanding circumstances are a common feature of Pitjantjatjara clauses – elements are expanded on by circumstances that tend to occur at the end the clause (as late New information, typically on a separate tone group); another example in Text 26 above was the Role kangkurara “sister-pair” in clause 2.11 Finally, a circumstance of Possession that expands on the qualities of fire occurs again in clause 9, but this time it is “with good firebrands”, tili wiru-tjara, not “black” ones, and the circumstance of Possession is embedded in one of Accompaniment, tili wiru-tjara-ngka, that we discussed above in Section 9.2.1. In this case this circumstance is not clause final, but functions in a similar manner to other expanding circumstances; it expands on the quality of the fire that Kipara is living with, but here the fire is implicit, presumed from its preceding mentions in the text. This strategy avoids the potentially ambiguous complexity of a group structure such as *waru tili wiru-tjara-ngka, which do not occur in the language, but contributes to the text’s cohesion by means of ellipsis and lexical collocation.

. theme The meaning of the thematic organization of each clause only makes sense in the context of its discourse semantic function, that of grounding each message in its local context of situation or preceding text, so I have exemplified Theme functions below wholly in the context of texts.

.. Resources in theme Resources in theme consist of two sets of options; on the one hand the type of Theme, textual, interpersonal or ideational, and on the other, the relative prominence of the Theme. Textual Themes are Conjunctions and Continuatives, while interpersonal Themes are Adjuncts, Vocatives and Nya-elements. Ideational Themes include the transitivity functions of Medium, Range, Circumstance or Process, or a logical Theme consisting of a conjunctive Adjunct palulanguru “from that”. There are three options in Theme prominence realized by rhythm and intonation – neutral, foregrounded and backgrounded. These options in Theme type and prominence were illustrated in Section 9.2.3 above.

 David Rose

By far the most common experiential Theme is Medium, which is a part of the Theme in all clauses. Since what the message is most often concerned with, from an experiential point of view, is the Medium – what it is doing, what is happening to it, or what its attributes or identities are – it is most frequently the Medium that is presented and then tracked through a text within the Theme of each message. This is such a pervasive pattern that even when the identity of the Medium is not stated, it is inherently thematic. Unless otherwise indicated, it can be implicitly presumed to be either the addressee of a proposal, or in a proposition the same identity as the Medium of the preceding clause. Amongst the options for realizing Medium listed in Section 9.2.3 above, the most common is as a personal pronoun, salient or clitic. The primary function of clitic pronouns is to be able to background the identity of participants in the textual structure of the clause. This enables salient elements other than Medium to become Theme, to which clitic identities may then be appended. These suffixed clitics are still part of the thematic foot of the clause, so that the identities they presume are presented as part of the Theme, as are implicit Mediums. This is well exemplified in the exchange between sisters in Text 22 re-presented here as 22’. Experiential Themes are given transitivity labels in the presentation, labels for cliticized functions are abbreviated, and in brackets for implicit Medium. (For the sake of space, clause rank glosses are not repeated here.) Text 22’: Two sisters M1 wanyu paka-ra pitja ‘please’ getting up come-! (you) Process (Md) 2 kangkuru watjalku-na-nta older sister will tell-I-you? Process-Md-Rg K1 nyaa-n nya-ngu nyaa nyaa what?-you did see what? what? Range-Md 2 wala-ngku watja-la quickly (you) tell-! Quality (Md) 3 nyaa-n wangka-nyi what?-you are saying Range-Md

Pitjantjatjara 

M3 wanyu puta pitja-la nya-wa ‘would you please’ coming look-! (you) Process (Md) 4 kuniya pulka alatjitu tjarpa-ngu an utterly huge python did enter (a burrow) Medium 5 piti-ngka -ni nguwanpa tjarpa-tju-nu into a burrow me (it) nearly did drag in Place-Rg (Md) 6 pulka mulapa (it was) really big Range (Md) In this dialogic text, the message organizing function of clitic and implicit identities is clear. With the exception of M4, each of the salient experiential Themes in Text 22 is not the Medium, rather the salient Themes are: – – –

Process: M1 pakara pitja, M2 watjalku, M3 pitjala nyawa Range: K1 nyaa, M6 pulka mulapa Circumstance: K2 walangku, M5 pitingka.

Even though these elements are not Medium they are thematized by realizing the Medium (and if necessary the Range as well) as enclitic or implicit. This is comparable to the function of passive voice in English described by Halliday (1994: 169), which enables elements such as Range or Goal to become unmarked Theme. However the Pitjantjatjara strategy of cliticization enables a Process or Circumstance, as well as Range, to be unmarked Theme. Cliticization means that the identity of the Medium, and potentially a Range as well, remains a backgrounded element of the Theme, while another element is presented saliently. This enables the identity of core participants to be tracked through a text within the Theme of each clause, while at the same time presenting other elements as salient Themes.

.. theme and identification In texts that constitute their own field, such as narratives, Theme structures at clause rank interact with identification chain at text level. If we look at a narrative from the perspective of Theme, we find that almost all of the identification takes place in the Theme of each message, either presenting identities of people, things and places lexically, or presuming them pronominally. The narrative extract 39 is re-presented below as 39’. Each Theme is underlined, and reference arrows are shown, pointing left for anaphoric, and right for cataphoric reference. Lexi-

 David Rose

cal Themes that first present identities are double underlined, pronominal Themes that presume these identities are single underlined, while Themes that are not part of reference chains are wavy underlined. Where reference items are explicit, ref erence arrows are located above these items, e.g. 4 -ya, 6 tjana, 8 tjana-ya “they”. Where reference is implicit, in lines 1, 5, 13 and 14, there are also reference arrows above the Theme, since the unstated Medium identity is inherent in the Theme, and the implicit identity is glossed in brackets below. Text 39’: Kipara

1 =2

3

tjukurpa kunyu (this) myth it’s said anangu tjuta nyina-ngi manta nyanga-ngka many people were living in this land

manta wingki-ngka kunyu nyina-ngi anangu tjuta in all lands (they) it’s said were living many people

+4

munu-ya paluru tjana waru kurakura kanyi-ningi tili maru-tjara and-they those ones useless fire were having with black coals

5

tili maru-tjara kunyu nyina-ngi with black coals (they) it’s said were living

6

nyawa tjana putu kunyu waru mantji-ningi look-! they unable it’s said fire were getting munga-purunpa maru-ngka munga maru-ngka like night in the dark in the dark night

7

+8 +9

munu tjana-ya watarku nyina-ngi and they-they in ignorance were living ka kunyu wati kutju-ngku Kipara-ngku tili wirutjara-ngka and it’s said one man Kipara with good brands nyina-ngi was living

Pitjantjatjara 

+10α ka ngura kutjupa tjuta-ngka wati kutjupa tjuta-ngku kuli-ni and in many different places many different men are thinking wati kutju one man 10β

mantji-ntjikitja waru palu-nya (they) to get that fire

+11 ka ya palu-nya putu mantji-ra and they it (the fire) unable getting tjulya-ra wana-ra tjulya-ra wana-ra snatching following snatching following =12 wati kutjupa tjuta-ngku tjulya-ningi putu many different men were unsuccessfully snatching +13 ka tjilka-ri-ngu and (this) did become tjilka

14

tjilka-rara alatjitu kati-ngu the tjilka group itself (this) did carry along

Most of the experiential Themes in Text 39’ include the three entities participating in reference chains, anangu tjuta “the people”, tili maru-tjara “(fire) with black coals” and wati kutju, Kipara. These three participants are either presented or presumed as Themes. This is the natural position for presenting entities from the speaker’s point of view (i.e. “this entity is what I’m talking about”), and the natural position for presuming them from the perspective of both speaker and addressee (i.e. “we both know this entity that I’m talking about”).

.. theme prominence In theme prominence, the periodic structure of the clause as message is employed to organize texts and text segments as larger periodic structures. These periodic hierarchies are achieved by “marking” clause rank Themes as more or less prominent in the periodic structure of a text. The neutral choice is for experiential elements to be identified by salient (pro)nominal groups. The least prominent realization of Medium is as an additive conjunction plus clitic pronoun. When these comprise the Theme, it is minimally prominent (or maximally backgrounded). A

 David Rose

more prominent choice of Theme is to expand or re-iterate its identity or qualities, illustrated in Section 9.2.3 above. However the most prominent resource for foregrounding Theme is to give it tonic focus. Tonic focus on Theme is a marked option in information focus. The unmarked pattern is for the tonic focus to fall on the last lexical element of a clause, so that when it falls on the Theme its effect is to foreground the thematic element. This is exemplified in lines 2 and 3 of Text 39’, re-presented below. Here the Theme is underlined, and the item receiving tonic focus is in bold. Text 39’: extract 2

anangu tjuta nyina-ngi manta nyanga-ngka many people were living in this land

3

manta wingki-ngka kunyu nyina-ngi // anangu tjuta in all lands (they) its said were living many people

In clause 1 the identity of the central participants anangu tjuta is presented with neutral Theme prominence, and the tonic focus is on the last clause element manta nyanga-ngka “in this land”. In 2 this element is re-presented as Theme manta wingki-ngka “in all lands”, with the tonic focus on wingki “all”. The effect is to foreground the significance of the location of the people “in every land”, as the starting point from which the narrative unfolds. In addition to this local function of reiterating a New element as the following Theme (sometimes described as “tail-head linkage” in Papuan languages: Scott 1983; Reesink 1987), the resources of theme and information focus also interact to organize Pitjantjatjara texts into segments I have called information waves.12 Each information wave involves an information peak, where Theme and New are conflated. In Text 39 there are two information waves, 1–8 and 9–14. The first wave introduces the people anangu tjuta, as Themes, and their problem, lack of fire as News. It culminates with the consequence of this lack in clause 7, in which New is also Theme, and is elaborated by two further late New elements on separate tone groups, as follows. Text 39’: extract (7) munga purunpa // maru-ngka // munga maru-ngka (it was) like night in the dark in the dark night The second wave introduces wati kutju Kipara as a foregrounded Theme in 9, and the following New elements are the fire and the inability of the men wati kutjupa

Pitjantjatjara

tjuta to snatch it. This wave culminates with the consequence of their journey in 13–14, in which New elements are also Theme. Text 39’: extract +13 ka tjilka-ri-ngu and (this) did become the tjilka (initiation ceremonial journey) 14

tjilka-rara alatjitu kati-ngu tjilka group itself (it) did bring

So foregrounded Themes may function (i) to foreground significant elements, (ii) to signal new text stages, and (iii) as the tonic peaks of information waves. The information wave structure of Text 29’ is illustrated in the following Table 9.13. Each row in the table is an “information group” consisting of one clause or an elaborating clause complex. New elements are in bold. This very regular pattern of information waves, culminating with the consequences of activity sequences, may be typical of myths in Australian cultures. It may be one of the resources that enables myths to be meticulously reproduced over Table 9.13 Information waves in Text 39’ Themes 2–3 4–5 6 7–8

9

News

tili wiru-tjara-ngka with good firebrands”

discourse function setting in time and place the people”s lack of fire their inability to get the fire consequence: living in the dark, in ignorance Kipara”s possession of fire

kulini wati kutju...waru palu-nya “thinking of this one man...of that fire”

men”s desire to get the fire

anangu tjuta “the people” ”

manta nyanga-ngka...manta winki-ngka “in this land...in all the land” waru kurakura...tili maru-tjara “useless fire...with black brands” ” putu waru mantji-ningi “unable to get the fire” munga purunpa, munga maru-ngka...watarku “like night, in the dark night...in ignorance”

wati kutju Kipara “one man, Kipara” 10 wati kutjupa tjuta “a great many men” 11–12 ”

putu mantji-ra...tjulya-ningi putu “unable to get it...unsuccessfully snatching” 13–14 tjilkaringu...tjilkarara alatjitu “this became the tjilka...the tilka group itself ”

frustrated attempts to get it consequence: transformation as the tjilka ceremonies



 David Rose

countless generations, and to recur in diverse social groups all over the continent. Other text types, such as contemporary or historical recounts, have less regular information wave structures (Rose 2001). The discourse level analyses presented here illustrate the roles of theme in managing the continuity of identities and their prominence in the flow of text. The roles of information on the other hand, are to manage patterns of change unfolding around these continuities. Features of the two systems come together where a change is most significant to the development of a text, and is presented as both the starting point of a message, and its point of arrival.

. Conclusion This has been a very brief survey of the clause grammar of Pitjantjatjara, and some of its implications for discourse. Yet it has been possible to display a considerably richer variety of resources for meaning than has generally been available to date in grammatical descriptions of Australian languages. These resources have included elaborate systems of interpersonal functions, together with examples of the complex ways in which these are used by speakers to negotiate their relationships in social discourse. They also included complex sets of ideational resources for construing speakers’ experience as sequences of action, signification or relation, and complex textual resources using sequencing, rhythm and intonation for organizing clauses and texts as waves of meaning. Three sets of “meta”-resources have enabled this degree of descriptive enrichment to be achieved. Firstly the starting point has been with the functions of grammatical resources in social discourse, made possible by a powerful theory of language in social context in SFL; secondly the relationship of linguistic syndromes to their contexts has been informed by excellent ethnographies of the social contexts of Western Desert culture (Tonkinson 1978; Myers 1986); and thirdly the interpretation of relationships between language and culture has been guided and inspired in by Anangu elders who have taken pains over many years to educate me in their culture and language. Given the tools that we now have available, for describing the discursive functions of grammatical syndromes, and for relating these resources to the cultural contexts in which speakers use and learn them, there is no reason why descriptions of Australian languages should not become much richer. This survey has shown no more than a few hints of the directions in which such developments could grow.

Pitjantjatjara 

Notes . An ‘Indo-Pacific’ phylum has also been proposed by Greenberg (1971), on the basis of large scale multilateral lexical comparisons, that includes the Papuan languages of the Papua-New Guinea/Irian Jaya mainland, and islands of western Melanesia and eastern Indonesia, as well as the languages of the Andaman Islands, west of lower Thailand. If this grouping is correct, then the Australian, Papuan and Andaman languages may represent a linguistic macro-phylum that once occupied the extended land masses of southern southeast Asia and Australia in the late Pleistocene ice-age. . This function of the active nominal inflection to foreground identities resembles that labelled as ‘reflexive’ in some formalist Australian descriptions, given a word rank gloss ‘himself ’, and sometimes even ascribed a slightly different phonetic form in order to conform with a formal rule of one gloss per morpheme. The clause rank textual function of foregrounding identity is missed, and mistranslated, in such accounts. . We could describe variations in verb endings as a morpheme rank system of verb class or conjugation, to borrow the traditional terminology based on a similar system in Latin. These formal variations tend to be a significant focus in formalist Australian descriptions. . The labels I have used for nominal inflections differ in part from traditional labels, which are formally rather than functionally motivated, and so focus on the distinction between the inflectional paradigms of personal pronouns and other nominals. In this tradition the active form of personals is known as ‘nominative’, while the neutral form is called ‘accusative’; in contrast the active form of others is labelled ‘ergative’, and the neutral form is ‘absolutive’. This morphological distinction is associated with the relative frequency of the transitivity roles these nominal classes fulfil in discourse: personals are most often in active roles, so this is their unmarked form, and they are inflected as neutral; common nominal and demonstratives are most often in neutral roles, so this is their unmarked form, and they are inflected as active; proper names most often function as Vocatives, so this is their unmarked form, and they are inflected for both active and neutral transitivity roles. However, the traditional formalist assumption of a one-to-one correspondence between each decontextualised morpheme and a single meaning has led to a widely held misconception that the differences in inflections between personal pronouns and other nominals has deep semantic significance; it doesn’t. In particular Australian languages have been mis-characterised as ‘ergative’, on the basis of the so-called ‘ergative’ inflection which is claimed to denote the meaning of agency, and so active participants are labelled ‘agentive subject’ (A) (e.g. Dixon 1979, 1980). On the contrary, the model of process in Pitjantjatjara is transitive – concerned with how the process is extended to other participants – not ergative like English, which is concerned with causation of processes (Halliday 1994). . Analysis of the Western Desert tone system was assisted by CECIL speech analysis software, available as shareware from the SIL website. . The functions of tones in speech functions correspond in some respects to those Halliday describes for English but differ in others. For example tone 5 realizes neutral force in commands and element (nya-) questions, in contrast to tone 1 in English wh-questions, although in French this tone is also unmarked for element (qu-) questions (Caffarel this volume).

 David Rose . The term Medium partially corresponds to the traditional category of ‘subject’, denoted in formalist accounts as ‘S’ or ‘A’ depending on the transitivity of the clause. However as Halliday (1994a: 30–31) points out, traditional definitions of ‘subject’ actually cover three independently variable functions, textual (traditional ‘psychological subject’), interpersonal (traditional ‘grammatical subject’) and experiential (traditional ‘logical subject’), and Halliday reserves the label Subject for the interpersonal function in English of ‘modally responsible element’, which together with the Finite verbal auxiliary constitutes the Mood element of English clauses. This function has no direct equivalent in Western Desert. . Note the contrasts in Table 3 with agency in English, in which Actor is construed as the agent of effective actions, Phenomenon may be the agent of sensing, and Token is the agent of identifying. Only in three marginal clause types in Western Desert is one participant explicitly agentive – induced mental reactions and caused relations. See Note 1. . It is interesting that Indo-European relational verbs are also derived from verbs of stance. . Note that these reaction qualities are not ‘mental states’. See Matthiessen (1998) for a deconstruction of metaphors of mental states and containers in spoken English and cognitive science. . Circumstances that expand other elements as late New are commonly labelled an ‘afterthought’ structure in formalist descriptions, as though the speaker needed to correct their utterance. However they are anything but ‘afterthoughts’, and serve a similar function to qualifying phrases in English nominal groups, which also frequently occur as late New. In Western Desert this qualifying function is performed at clause rank, by discrete constituents. For this reason they are also sometimes described ethno-centrically as ‘discontinuous noun phrases’. . Comparable discourse levels of periodic structures have been described by for spoken languages in general by Pike (1982), for spoken English by Van Leeuwen (1993), and Martinec (1995), and for written English by Martin (1992).

References Austin, P. (1981). “Switch reference in Australia.” Language, 57 (2): 309–334. Austin, P. (1988). Complex Sentence Construction in Australian Languages. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Blake, B. (1988). “Re-defining Pama-Nyungan: towards the pre-history of Australian languages.” In N. Evans & S. Johnson (Eds.), Aboriginal Linguistics 1 (pp. 1–90). Armidale: University of New England. Bowe, H. (1990). Categories, Constituents and Constituent Order in Pitjantjatjara, an Aboriginal Language of Australia. London: Routledge. Capell, A. (1956). “A New Approach to Australian Linguistics.” Oceania Linguistics Monographs, No. 1. Sydney University. Comrie, B. (1981). Language Universals and Linguistic Typology: syntax and morphology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Dixon, R. M. W. (1980). The Languages of Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dixon, R. M. W. (1990). Summary Report: Linguistic change and reconstruction in the Australian language family. In P. Baldi (Ed.), 393–401. Evans, N. (1988). “Arguments for Pama-Nyungan as a genetic subgroup, with particular reference to initial laminalization.” In N. Evans & S. Johnson (Eds.), Aboriginal Linguistics 1 (pp. 91–110). Armidale: University of New England. Foley, W. A. (1986). The Papuan Languages of New Guinea. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gleason, H. A. (1968). “Contrastive Analysis in Discourse Structure.” Monograph Series on Languages and Linguistics 21. Georgetown University Institute of Languages and LInguistics. (Reprinted in Makkai, A. D. & Lockwood, D. (1972 (Eds.)). Readings in Stratificational Linguistics (pp. 258–276). University, Al.: University of Alabama. Greenberg, J. (Ed.). (1971). “The Indo-Pacific hypothesis.” In T. A. Sebeok (Ed.), Current Trends in Linguistics (pp. 1963–1976.). The Hague: Mouton. Halliday, M. A. K. (1967). Intonation and Grammar in British English. The Hague: Mouton. Halliday, M. A. K. (1993). Language in a Changing World. Canberra: Applied Linguistics Association of Australia, Occasional Paper No 13. Halliday, M. A. K. (1994). An Introduction to Functional Grammar. London: Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. (1996). “On Grammar & Grammatics.” In Hasan, Butt, & Cloran (Eds.) 1996, 1–38. Halliday, M. A. K, & C. M. I. M. Matthiessen (1999). Construing experience through meaning: a language-based approach to cognition. London: Cassell. Harvey (1997). “The temporal interpretation of linguistic diversity in the Top End.” In McConvell & Evans (Eds.). 323–384. Hasan, R., D. Butt, & C. Cloran (Eds.). (1996). Functional Descriptions: language form & linguistic theory. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Kilham, A. C. (1977). Thematic Organisation of Wik-Munkan Discourse. In S. A. Wurm (Ed.), Pacific Linguistics Series B, No 52. Lester, Y. (1993). Yami: the autobiography of Yami Lester. Alice Springs: Institute for Aboriginal Development. Maddock, K. (1972). The Australian Aborigines: a portrait of their society. Baltimore: Penguin. Martin, J. R. (1983). “Participant Identification in English, Tagalog and Katé.” Australian Journal of Linguistics, 3 (1), 1–72. Martin, J. R. (1988). “Hypotactic Recursive Systems in English: toward a functional approach.” In J. Benson & W. Greaves (Eds.), Systemic Functional Approaches to Discourse: selected papers from the 12th International Systemics Workshop (pp. 240–270). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Martin, J. R. (1991). “Language and Control: fighting with words.” In C. Walton & W. Eggington (Eds.), Language: maintenance, power and education in Australian Aboriginal contexts (pp. 12–43). Darwin: NTU Press. Martin, J. R. (1992). English Text: System and Structure. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Martinec, R. (1995). Hierarchy of Rhythm in English Speech. PhD Thesis, University of Sydney.

 David Rose

Matthiessen, C. M. I. M. (1998). “Construing Processes of Consciousness: from the commonsense model to the uncommonsense model of cognitive science.” In J. R. Martin & R. Veel (Eds.), Reading Science (pp. 327–356). London: Routledge. McConvell, P., & N. Evans (Eds.). (1997). Archaeology and Linguistics: Aboriginal Australia in a global perspective. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McGregor, W. (1992). A Functional Grammar of Gooniyandi. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Myers, F. (1986). Pintupi Country, Pintupi Self. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Nakata, M. (1999). History, Cultural Diversity and Language Teaching. In P. Wignell (Ed.). Nichols, J. (1997). “Sprung from two common sources: Sahul as a linguistic area.” In McConvell & Evans (Eds.). 135–168. O’Grady, G. N. & Fitzgerald, S. (1997). “Cognate search in the Pama-Nyungan language family.” In McConvell & Evans (Eds.). 341–355. O’Grady, N., S. Wurm, & K. Hale (1966). Aboriginal Languages of Australia (a preliminary classification). Victoria B.C.: University of Victoria. Rose, D. (1992). “Protection, Self-determination & Language Learning in Aboriginal early childhood education: review of Aboriginal language education policy statements.” In Education Australia, Spring 1992. 34–35. Rose, D. (1993). “On becoming: the grammar of causality in Pitjantjatjara and English.” In M. A. K. Halliday (Ed.), Cultural Dynamics VI (1–2) (pp. 42–83). Leiden, Netherlands: E.J. Brill. Rose, D. (1996). “Pitjantjatjara Processes: an Australian grammar of experience.” In Hasan, Cloran & Butt (Eds.). 287–322. Rose, D. (2001). The Western Desert Code: an Australian cryptogrammar. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Rose, D., B. Gray, & W. Cowey (1999). Scaffolding Reading and Writing for Indigenous Children in School. In P. Wignell (Ed.). 23–60. Ruhlen, M. (1991). A Guide to the World’s Languages: Vol. 1: Classification. London: Edward Arnold. Stanner, W. E. H. (1966). On Aboriginal Religion. Oceania Monograph 11. Sydney: Sydney University. Tonkinson, R. (1978). The Mardudjara Aborigines: living the dream in Australia’s desert. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. Van Leeuwen, T. (1993). “Rhythm and Social Context: accent and juncture in the speech of professional radio announcers.” In P. Tench (Ed.), Systemic Phonology (pp. 231–262). London: Pinter. Whorf, B. L. (1956). Language, Thought and Reality: selected writing of Benjamin Lee Whorf. In J. B. Carroll (Ed.). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Wignell, P. (Ed.). (1999). Double Power: English literacy in indigenous schooling. Melbourne: Languages Australia. Wurm, S. A. (Ed.). (1975). Papuan Languages and the New Guinea Linguistic Scene. Pacific Linguistics C38.

Chapter 10

Descriptive motifs and generalizations Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen Macquarie University

. Introduction The task of this final chapter is to explore typological variation within the ideational, interpersonal and textual resources of grammars in various languages, drawing on the descriptions of different languages presented in the body of this book and expanding the discussion to take account of other languages as well. Along the way, I will try to identify typological motifs and generalizations that can be used in future work on individual languages and in efforts to develop typological accounts based on, or informed by, systemic functional work. In the first chapter, we raised certain general issues relating to language typology as seen from a system functional point of view. One fundamental aspect of any systemic functional multilingual work is the distinction between theory and description. The theoretical underpinnings of typological work are obviously crucial; for example, it is possible to make important typological generalizations by reference to the dimensions of systemic functional theory (cf. Chapter 1, Figure 1.9). However, to keep the discussion within reasonable length and to relate to the accounts of particular languages in this book I will have to concentrate on descriptive motifs and generalizations here – for theoretical principles in relation to typology, see Matthiessen & Halliday (in prep.: Chapter 5), Teich (2001), Matthiessen (2001) [in relation to translation] and Bateman, Matthiessen & Zeng (1999) [in relation to multilingual text generation]. I will use the theoretical dimension of metafunction to map out lexicogrammatical systems, thus locating the major contributions within each metafunction. The central research question on the agenda is what descriptive generalizations can be induced from comprehensive lexicogrammatical maps of the kind presented in this book for the grammars of clauses in a range of languages supplemented by more fragmentary information about a much larger sample of languages.1 It is not yet possible to propose a generalized map; but we have to move in that direction.

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

. Descriptive motifs and generalizations .. Function-rank matrix – major systems The lexicogrammatical system of a language can be mapped out as a system of systems distributed in terms of metafunction and rank by means of a functionrank matrix such as the one below in Table 10.1 (see e.g. Halliday 1976: 190, 1978: 132; Matthiessen 1995a: 88–97, and for a different account based on the same fundamental principles, Fawcett 1980: 95). Such a matrix covers all the metafunctional contributions that make up the lexicogrammatical system, separating them into ideational (logical and experiential), interpersonal and textual systems; and it shows how these systems are distributed into the different ranking environments of the lexicogrammar. The matrix specifies the “semiotic address” for each system, as David Butt puts it. The function-rank matrix specified for Chinese by Halliday & McDonald (this volume) constitutes a representative example. Each cell in the matrix constitutes the “address” for a major system such as transitivity and aspect. Thus the system of transitivity has the following address: experiential at clause rank. This means that it is part of the total resources for construing human experience of the world around us and inside us (experiential) and that it complements systems for enacting exchanges in dialogue (mood) and for creating messages (theme) (clause rank). Systems such as transitivity are major ones; they typically include identifiable subsystems such as those of nuclear transitivity and circumstantial transitivity. Teruya (1998: 34–40) presents a considerably more detailed function-rank matrix, mapping out the lexicogrammatical resources of Japanese. Rose (1998: 55, 2001: 116) presents a function rank matrix for Pitjantjatjara. If we try to generalize across such function-rank matrices for different languages, what kind of picture emerges? It seems that there are certain major lexicogrammatical systems that are fairly “stable” across languages in the sense that we find them in one language after another – key systems for each metafunction, located at clause rank in particular. These are set out for the clause in Table 10.1, together with systems such as tense/aspect that are more variable across languages (shown in italics in the table). For the systems within each metafunction, there are certain common patterns of structural realization; these are set out as clausal functions in Table 10.1 together with indications of how each function may be realized at the ranks below. The table distinguishes between those functions that tend to be more common across languages and those that are more variable. For example, while all languages appear to have a Predicator in the interpersonal structure of the clause, other interpersonal functions such as Subject, Finite, Mood and Negotiator are much more variable across languages.

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Table 10.1 Generalized function-rank matrix (focus on clause)

clause

ideational logical experiential complexing transitivity

textual

mood & polarity

theme (& information) ⇑ voice; switch reference ⇓

⇑ modal assessment: modality tense [modalization] & modality [modalization] / evidentiality / prediction/attitude; modal distance: honorification, politeness ⇓ group (Realization within the domain of the verbal group in terms of auxiliaries, (verbal) semi-auxiliaries, clitics, and verbal affixes.) clause / group phase &c

⇑ phase; temporality: tense / aspect spatiality [directionals & other locatives] ⇓

interpersonal

The major systems can all be related stratally to fundamental discoursesemantic concerns within the range of situation types that make up the context of culture of a language, which is no doubt a central reason why they seem to generalize across languages.2 While the major systems all seem to represent recurrent domains of grammaticalization across languages, they are not of course invariable. Rather they are subject to considerable typological variation – variation which tends to increase as we move towards more delicate parts of these systems, i.e. towards more local systemic contrasts (cf. Bateman, Matthiessen, Nanri & Zeng 1991; Bateman, Matthiessen & Zeng 1999). The increase in variation at greater degrees of delicacy is illustrated throughout this book. Examples include the difference between Japanese and English in the type of sensing system within ‘mental’ clauses (see Teruya, this volume) and between Tagalog and English in the same area (see Martin 1996, this volume), the difference between German and English in the differentiation of subtypes of ‘imperative’ clauses (see Steiner & Teich, this volume) and the difference between Mandarin and English in the differentiation of subtypes of ‘polar interrogative’ clauses (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume; Bateman, Matthiessen, Nanri & Zeng 1991). But the variation may also be more global, affecting general systemic contrasts of low delicacy. For example, there is variation across languages in the nature of balance between ergative and transitive (“nominative-accusative”) models within the transitivity system. Further, the systemic variation may involve the presence/absence of very general systemic variables. For example, while the English core

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Table 10.2 Generalized inventory of structural functions (S = Subject; F = Finite) experiential

interpersonal

textual

less variable functions Process: verbal group (complex), pronominal affixes; participants: cases / adpositions Predicator: interpersonal auxiliaries, interpersonal affixes; TONE: phonological realization in terms of dynamic tones (“melodies”) or other prosodic pitch features

Theme (topical): position (i.e. positional prominence); case / adposition + Rheme; Given + New: adposition / particle, tonic prominence

more variable functions circumstances: cases / adpositions; facet nouns; Tense / Aspect: temporal particles Subject: case / adposition; Finite: interpersonal auxiliary, interpersonal affixes; Mood [Subject, Finite]: concord, internal sequence (i.e. S ^ F / F ^ S); Moodtag [F ^ S]; modal Adjunct (Assessment): modal adverbs, modal particles; Negotiator: mood particles Theme (textual, interpersonal); Process: voice auxiliary / affixes

system of mood does not embody contrasts relating to tenor relationships concerned with social distance, a number of languages intersect the system of mood with those of politeness and honorification so that speech roles are always enacted together with social positioning. This is the situation in Japanese (see Teruya, this volume; cf. Hori 1995), in Telugu (Prakasam, this volume: Figure 8.3), and also in Korean (see e.g. S.E. Martin 1992). The interpersonal grammars of these languages thus operate with more simultaneous systemic dimensions than does the grammar of English. The systems shown in italics are more variable than the major systems in the sense that they may or may not be grammaticalized in a given language. I will illustrate this point below as I review the metafunctions; here I will just make some general comments. (i) Within the textual metafunction, while many languages have a textual system of voice for “distributing” participants in the clause as message, there are certain languages that do not have such a system.3 It would perhaps make sense to posit a more general, less language-specific textual system of diathesis and to interpret voice as one possible manifestation of this system, as Steiner (1988) has suggested in the context of work on translation. There certainly seems to be a strong tendency for languages to vary within the bounds of some general systemic domain such as that of diathesis. Another, related area of typological variation within the textual metafunction has to do with the way that the system of theme maps on to the experiential

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

system of transitivity and to the interpersonal system of mood. For example, some languages have a category of unmarked Theme that varies according to the fundamental mood type; many other languages do not have a comparable link between theme and mood. English and (to a lesser extent) French and German are examples of the first tendency; Chinese, Japanese, Tagalog and Vietnamese of the second. Another area of variation within the textual metafunction is the way in which the semantic system of reference is handled grammatically (cf. Martin 1983, on English, Tagalog and Kâte). Thus languages vary with respect to how tightly the status of reference is tied to the systems of theme and information: for example, are thematic elements to be interpreted as identifiable in terms of reference or not? reference may also interact with conjunction in so-called switch reference systems. (ii) Within the interpersonal metafunction, the general systemic domain that is subject to considerable typological variation is that of modal assessment – i.e., the assessment or evaluation of some aspect of the proposition or proposal being enacted by the interpersonal resources of the clause. It seems that there are various ways in which modal assessment may be manifested grammatically in a language – as modality of the type modalization, as modality of the type modulation, as evidentiality, as prediction and as attitude. Languages seem to vary with respect to the degree to which they generalize across modalization and modulation (as English, French and German do) or treat them as fairly distinct (as Tagalog does) and with respect to the degree that they foreground modality as a grammaticalization of modal assessment or give prominence to evidentiality instead, these being complementary ways of assessing the validity of a proposition. And languages also seem to vary with respect to the extent to which they treat mood and modality (or evidentiality) as distinct interpersonal systems. In a language such as Cantonese with a vast range of interpersonal particles these categories may shade into one another more than in languages such as English, French and German where they are grammaticalized in more distinct ways. (iii) Within the ideational metafunction, the general systemic domain that is subject to considerable typological variation is that of location in time or space of the unfolding of the process being construed. Spatio-temporal location may be manifested as temporality – a grammatical system for modelling the unfolding of the process through time, in terms of tense (location of the unfolding of the process) as in English, or aspect (boundedness of the unfolding of the process) as in Chinese, or a mixture of the two, as in Russian. Spatio-temporal location may also be manifested as spatiality – a grammatical system for modelling the unfolding of the process through space, primarily in terms of direction (as with the contrast between ‘upriver’ and ‘downriver’). Examples include Quechua (Weber,

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

1989), Jacaltec (Craig 1979) and a number of languages within Tibeto-Burman (Delancey 1985). Languages thus vary in how the general systemic domains of modal assessment and spatio-temporal location are manifested within their grammatical systems. Such generalized systemic domains may even, it seems, vary in their manifestation across metafunctions. Perhaps the prototype for such metafunctional variation is the ideational metafunction, which provides two modes of construing experience, the logical and the experiential, and, as I shall show below, there is considerable variation between these two modes across languages. But we also find such cross-overs between the major metafunctions. Thus time may be presented textually through a system of conjunction, enacted interpersonally through a system of modal assessment, or construed ideationally through a system of logico-semantic type operating in the linking of clauses in clause complexes and a system, or systems, of tense/aspect. These systems may work together within a given language, but languages also vary in how they divide the labour of organizing time within a text between these systems – in particular, between conjunction and logico-semantic type on the one hand tense/aspect on the other. Thus while English tends to indicate sequence in time through the choice of conjunction (realized by non-structural, cohesive, conjunctions, e.g). afterwards, later, subsequently) and logico-semantic type (realized by structural conjunctions, e.g). then; after, before, since), possibly together with secondary tenses (cf. Matthiessen 1996: 470–472), Tswana (Niger-Congo: Tswana) and many other languages in Africa have special consecutive (sequential) verb forms to indicate the sequence of events in a text (Creissels 2000: 257). The connection between these strategies may be seen historically, as in Japanese where the so-called (consecutive) -te form of the verb used in hypotactically dependent clauses, often forming long series representing a sequence of events, derives from a conjunction (Shibatani 1990). Another prominent example of variation across metafunctions is projection (ideational/interpersonal), to be discussed below in Section 10.6.

.. Variation in metafunctional unification and realization ... Metafunctional unification The function-rank matrix in Table 10.1 below identifies clausal systems according to their metafunctional point of origin. These systems are simultaneous in the system network of the clause: as shown diagrammatically in Figure 10.1, each metafunctional set of systems relates to a different unit in the semantics: the interpersonal systems realize the clause as a move in dialogic interaction, the textual systems realize the clause as a message in the flow of information, and the ideational systems realize the clause as a figure in the flow of events. The different meta-

Descriptive motifs and generalizations  field

context of situation

CONTEXT

mode text tenor

(episodic patterns) figure [quantum of flow of events]

SEMANTICS

(progression patterns) (exchange patterns) message [quantum of information] move [quantum of interaction]

î

system: TRANSITIVITY clause absolute

system: THEME clause

LEXICOGRAMMAR

system: MOOD clause

indicative imperative

marked unmarked

trans. role

ê ê î í

impacting/effective non-impacting/middle material mental relational

declarative interrogative

structure: modal structure

RANK: SEGMENT: INTONATION: SEQUENCE:

clause group (/phrase) word (morpheme)

Figure 10.1 Metafunctional unification – variation within medium of expression and rank

functional sets of systems are thus subject to different discursive factors in the processing of text. The systems are to a large extent independent of one another although in any given language there will be systemic interactions across these major metafunctional systems, for example in the way that the system of mood relates to the system of theme or the system of information in the textual treatment of “wh-” interrogatives.

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

However, terms from the various systems all have to be realized within the structure of the clause and its constituent parts at lower ranks4 As shown diagrammatically in Figure 10.1, this unification is achieved through the co-ordination of different media of expression (sequence, intonation, and segments; see further below).5 It is clear that languages vary considerably in how they achieve this metafunctional unification. They also vary in how this unification is reflected in the ways in which the different metafunctions are realized, with respect to both the media of expression (sequence, intonation and segments) and the location of the realization along the rank scale. However, the variation is not random; it falls within a metafunctionally motivated “envelope” of variation. I will sketch the picture that seems to emerge in three steps. First I will discuss how the metafunctional contributions to the clause are unified within the clause in terms of the sequence of elements. Then I will explore variation in the realization of the different metafunctions throughout the grammar. Finally, I will focus on variation that is associated with the rank scale in particular.

... The sequence of elements in the clause Languages vary in how they map the metafunctions onto one another in terms of the syntagmatic sequence of the clause. This variation is suggested by so-called “word order”6 types such as SVO (e.g., English, German, French, Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai, Indonesian), VSO (e.g. standard Arabic, Jacaltec, Tahitian), VOS (e.g. Malagasy, Tagalog, Tongan), SOV (e.g. Japanese, Turkish, Navajo, Somali, Burmese); but at the same time such labels do not reveal the metafunctional motivation behind the sequence of elements. For example, Tagalog is classified as “VOS”, but this obscures the metafunctional motivation behind this sequence as described by Martin (this volume): the typical Tagalog clause starts interpersonally and ends textually (the “S” being not a Subject according to Martin’s interpretation, but an unmarked combination of topical Theme and New, whose experiential role is anticipated in affixal marking within the “V”). Similarly, Japanese is classified as “SOV”, but this obscures the metafunctional motivation behind the sequence as described by Teruya (this volume): the typical Japanese clause starts textually and ends interpersonally (the “V” being an important locus of interpersonal realizations in its role as Predicator, followed immediately by the interpersonal element Negotiator, which is realized by interpersonal particles indicating mood and other interpersonal features). Focusing on the linear sequence within the clause, we can recognize a number of different ways in which metafunctional contributions are mapped onto one another in different languages. The main possibilities can be described as follows.

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

.... Interpersonal zones. The interpersonal mode of expression is prosodic (as shown in Chapter 1), so languages typically realize interpersonal terms in the system network of the clause by means of a phonological prosody such as pitch movement (see further Table 10.15 below). In addition, the verbal element ([Finite/] Predicator) or elements (Finite + Predicator) of the clause are likely to be the locus of interpersonal realizations (modes such as the subjunctive, jussive, optative; modality and/or evidentiality) and/or to be associated with interpersonal adverbs or particles that serve as the locus of such realizations. The [Finite/] Predicator may be placed as a juncture prosody (cf. Matthiessen 1988), coming (i) either at the beginning of the clause as interpersonal initiation of the clause as exchange (“VSO”, as in e.g. standard Arabic ; “VOS”, as in e.g. Tagalog) or (ii) at the end as interpersonal closure of the clause as exchange (“SOV”, as in e.g. Japanese). Both these positions are interpersonally motivated with respect to the clause as exchange – as an interactive event in the construction of dialogue. In either position, the [Finite/] Predicator serves as a locus of interpersonal realizations (either directly or by association with adverbs or particles). In addition, the [Finite/] Predicator may be accompanied by a Negotiator realized by interpersonal mood particles.7 If a language places the [Finite/] Predicator towards the end of the clause, after the Complements (so-called “OV” sequence), the Negotiator is usually placed clause-finally (e.g. Whaley 1997: 239). I will give examples from a few different languages. Arabic (“VSO”) – # ^ Negotiator or Wh, Polarity ^ Finite/Predicator[S,C] :8 In Arabic, a ‘polarity’ interrogative clause starts with Negotiator: hal or ‘a ^ Predicator,9 contrasting with a ‘declarative’ clause without the Negotiator. Similarly, a positive imperative clause often has the Negotiator: li: Negotiator: li ^ Predicator: ‘jussive’ (Cantarino 1974: 80). The beginning of the clause is also where the Wh element is frequently placed (op cit.: 145) and where the expression of negative polarity is placed in the unmarked case (op cit.: 102). Tagalog (“VOS”) – # ^ Assessment ^ Finite/Predicator[–,–] ^ Negotiator (see Martin, this volume): In Tagalog, there may be an initial, “pre-clausal” element of Assessment realizing some form of modal assessment (see Section 10.2.2.2.2 below), including modalization and modulation. Assessment can be interpreted as projecting the remainder of the clause, which may be marked by the hypotactic linking particle -ng/na. The clause itself starts with Predicator except in the case of ‘wh-interrogative’ clauses, where the Wh element comes first and is optionally followed by Negotiator: ba. ‘Polarity’ interrogative clauses are marked by Negotiator: ba following the clause-initial Predicator. Japanese (“SOV”) – Finite/Predicator[–,–] ^ Negotiator ^ # (see Teruya, this volume): In Japanese, the Predicator is the locus not only of polarity and modality but also of politeness and it may be followed by the Negotiator, which may indicate not only mood but also speaker-identity in terms of gender. An ‘interrogative’

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

clause ends with Predicator ^ Negotiator: ka; and various mood “forces” are also indicated by the Negotiator – e.g. ‘assertive’ Negotiator: yo. (Wh elements are not associated with the end of the clause; they appear in the same position as noninterrogative equivalents would appear in the corresponding ‘declarative’ clause.) In languages such as these it is as if the grammar allows the speaker to say to the listener either “I’m starting up a new clause by telling you what I’m trying to achieve in terms of dialogic interaction and so by implication what your speech role is” (interpersonal initiation) or “I’m about to hand over to you so let me tell you what I’m trying to achieve in terms of dialogic interaction and so by implication what your speech role is” (interpersonal closure). Alternatively, the verbal element or elements do not appear as juncture prosodies at the beginning or end of the clause, but instead appear somewhere between these two clause junctures (“SVO”, “OVS”). For example: English (“SVO”) – #^ . . . Mood [Subject ◦ Finite[(S)’ + Residue [Predicator . . .] ^ . . . #: In English, the Finite/Predicator is not “anchored” at either the beginning or the end of the clause. Rather it is “split” into two, the Finite and the Predicator, with the Finite carrying the main interpersonal burden in terms of forming polarity and modality and in terms of indicating the mood of the clause. The split allows the Predicator to remain anchored in the middle region of the clause, always coming after the Finite (unless the two of them are fused or the Predicator is a highly marked Theme), while the Finite either precedes the Subject or follows it, depending on the mood type of the clause. In the latter case, it may be followed immediately by the Predicator, but Adjuncts – including interpersonal Adjuncts of “modal assessment” – may separate the two. In a ‘polar’ interrogative clause, the sequence is #^ Finite ^ Subject (although the Finite may be preceded by other elements), giving us a pattern similar to that of e.g. Arabic from an interpersonal point of view. In a ‘wh-interrogative’ clause, the Wh element is clause-initial and is followed by the Finite. The main interpersonal “zone” of the clause is not the Finite alone, however, but rather the combination of Finite and Subject together with any mood Adjuncts: they constitute the Mood element and it is this Mood element rather than the beginning or the end of the clause that represents the main interpersonal zone. Mood appears closer to the beginning of the clause than to the end, so in this respect English is more like Arabic or Tagalog than like Japanese. German is “SVO” if the position of the Finite element in ‘free’ clauses is taken as criterial; but it is “SOV” if the position of the Predicator in ‘free’ clauses where Finite and Predicator are not fused is taken as criterial. It is similar to English in its deployment of a Mood element consisting of Subject and Finite, but the Mood element does less work in the interpersonal grammar of German than it does in the interpersonal grammar of English. While English (perhaps uniquely among languages) picks up the Mood element in the form of the Moodtag at the end of

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

a tagged clause, German does not mirror the Mood element in this way; it uses a generalized tag with negative polarity (nicht wahr), an interpersonal particle (like the Southern German gell), or the like. Further the ‘declarative’ mood sequence of Subject ^ Finite is overridden by the stronger principle that the Finite follows the Theme (Theme ^ Finite, as in Zum Glück hatten meine Eltern mir Geld hinterlassen – ‘luckily had my parents me: dative money left’; ‘luckily my parents had left me some money’), a principle that is only vestigal in English. Swedish and Danish (see Andersen, Helm Petersen & Smedegaard 2001, for a systemic functional interpretation) are similar to German; but German differs from its Germanic siblings in that it uses the Mood element to distinguish between ‘free’ and ‘bound’ clauses. In ‘free’ clauses, the Mood element is more or less “compact” and appears early in the clause (as in English); but in ‘bound’ clauses, the Mood element is split into Subject early in the clause and Finite at the end of the clause, following the Predicator if it is separate from the Finite (e.g. Predicator/Finite ^ #: wenn sie mir den Kaffee oder das Essen ins Zimmer brachte – ‘when she me:dative the:accusative coffee or the:accusative meal into+the:accusative room brought’; ‘when she brought coffee or a meal to my room’; Predicator ^ Finite ^ #: wenn sie eingetreten war – ‘when she entered was’; ‘when she had entered’). The splitting of the Mood element into a discontinuous sequence of Subject . . . Finite, with the Finite at the end of the clause symbolizes the fact that ‘bound’ clauses are removed from the line of negotiation in dialogue: they are assumed rather than arguable. The variable position of the Finite suggests that German is similar to a language like English in certain respects, but similar to a language like Japanese in certain other respects: both the beginning and the end of the clause in German are interpersonally significant, but with a difference in “freedom”. And this relates to another interesting difference between German and English: while polarity and finiteness are bonded in English, they are not in German (see for instance Example (17) in Steiner & Teich, this volume); the general marker of negative polarity, nicht, usually appears at the end of the clause (as illustrated by example (17)) unless the domain of negation is a particular element of the clause. French can be interpreted as “SVO”, with an interpersonally significant beginning of the clause (but given, identifiable Complements – “O” – appear before the verbal element of the clause for textual reasons, as often happens in “VO” languages, giving them the sequence “SOV”). It shows a certain tendency towards a Mood element consisting of Subject and Finite of the kind we find in its European neighbour German and in English. Polar interrogatives may thus be realized by the sequence of Finite ^ Subject, contrasting with the (declarative) sequence of Subject ^ Finite. But as Caffarel (this volume) points out, this strategy is not the favoured one in French, and it can be seen as somewhat peripheral to the system of mood in French. Instead Caffarel’s study of dialogic negotiation reveals another kind of interpersonal generalization – the grouping of Subject, Finite, and Predi-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

cator as the “Negotiator” of the clause. But French is interestingly different from its Romance neighbours in that it requires the presence of the Subject in dialogic negotiation (just like German and English). Thus in Spanish, the polar value of the clause can be negotiated through Finite/Predicator alone (without Subject); and in this respect it is similar to languages without a Finite element where the Predicator carries the negotiation of polarity, as with Chinese and Vietnamese, discussed in this book. In languages that operate with a Finite operator that is distinct from the Predicator (at least in certain interpersonal environments), these two interpersonal elements may occur in close proximity, as they do in English, or have the potential for occurring far apart within different zones of the clause, as happens in ‘free’ clauses in German, where the two are not conflated. Finite and Predicator may also be separated in other languages, including Estonian (Uralic: Balto-Finnic) and a number of languages spoken in Africa (Watters 2000: 199). Estonian is classfied as “SVO”, but a Predicator realized by a past participle is placed at the end of the clause, while the Finite is positioned with the Subject, “precisely mirroring the German word order in this construction” (Comrie 1981: 124). In Supyire (Niger-Congo: Gur: Senufo), the Predicator is positioned at the end of the clause, the language being classified as “SOV”; but the Finite appears “immediately before” the Subject (op cit.), as in [Subject:] u(“she”) [Finite:] màha (“habitual”) [Complement:] suro (“mush”) [Predicator:] shwfhf (“mush”) – “she cooks mush”. In certain languages characterized as “SVO”, the “V” is thus split positionally into Finite and Predicator when both are present as separate elements. The Finite follows the Subject, and the Predicator is placed at the end of the clause (as in “SOV”), which is the same pattern as in ‘free’ clauses in German. This happens in “some subgroups of Nilo-Saharan languages such as in Central and Eastern Sudanic languages, subgroups of Niger-Congo such as Kru and the Wider Bantu of Cameroon, and in !Xun, a North Khoisan language” (op cit.). With both the “SOV” split of Finite and Predicator and the “SVO” one, it is the Finite that is placed immediately after the Subject while the Predicator appears at the end of the clause, which indicates an interpersonal bonding between Subject and Finite, perhaps strong enough to be recognized as a Mood element.

.... Textual zones. The textual mode of expression is based on degrees of prominence rather than on prosody (as shown in Chapter 1). Prominence may be manifested in one of three ways: (1) positionally by means of culminative placement at the beginning or the end of the clause – or possibly some other prominent position within the clause, (2) segmentally by means of some prominence marker (or construction) that highlights one element out of all the elements of the clause (or by a range of alternative segments that differ in degree of prominence, being located at different points along the rank scale), or (3) intonationally by means

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

of tonic prominence (the location of the major pitch movement in an intonation contour). These realizational patterns will be summarized and discussed later (see Section 10.5); here I am concerned with the way in which the sequential patterns in particular map onto the other metafunctional strands in the clause. If the clause of a given language is characterized by an initial or final interpersonal juncture prosody, this may or may not map onto a “zone” of textual prominence. I will give examples from the small sample of languages discussed from an interpersonal point of view above. Arabic (“VSO”) – # ^ Theme / (Negotiator or Wh, Polarity ^ Predicator[S,C] ): In standard Arabic, it seems that the beginning of the clause has thematic status. This thematic zone of the clause includes purely interpersonal elements – Negotiator and Polarity and, in the unmarked case, the Predicator[S,C ], which also has the experiential value of Process. I shall assume that the Predicator/Process is the unmarked topical Theme. Since the Predicator/Process[S,C ] is marked by pronominal subject and complement affixes, it is possible to track referents through it (the verbal group realizing the Predicator/Process is also marked for passive voice). Further, because of the form of the verb, the Predicator will reveal whether the clause is ‘indicative’ or ‘imperative’ (jussive verb). Elements other than the Predicator/Process[S,C ] may serve as topical Theme. The most common alternative is the Subject; but Complements and circumstantial Adjuncts can also occur (Cantarino 1975: 512–518). According to Coles (1995: 205), “there is a strong tendency in narratives” for what I am interpreting as Theme/Predicator/Process[S,C ] “to be reserved for what has been described as event-oriented messages – where the focus is on who did what, what happened, or how it happened”. In contrast, the main alternative with Theme/Subject is “common in sentences which describe or provide incidental background or explanatory information about the already defined agents and patients of the text, but do not themselves take the narrative forward”. However, Subjects that are non-specific and new cannot serve as Theme. In expository writing, clauses with Theme/Subject are common. The verbs serving as Predicator/Process[S,C ] are “colourless statives like ‘consist of ’, ‘include’, ‘comprise’, or performatives like ‘can be defined as’: the text is entity-oriented . . . rather than ‘event-oriented’ (op cit., p. 205). (In other words, such clauses tend to be ‘relational’ rather than ‘material’ in process type.) The principle at work in Arabic thus seems to be the same as in English and many other languages: the selection of Theme correlates with the method of development of the text (demonstrated by Fries 1981, for English, and by the contributors to this book for the languages described here). Thematicity is complemented in the organization of the clause as message by newsworthiness. In (Moroccan) Arabic, the unmarked location of the major pitch movement that marks the Focus of New information comes towards the end of an

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

utterance; and marked selections are indicated by earlier placements (Benkirane 1998: 349, 352, 355–356). This would give the clause the same kind of double-wave pattern as we find in English (see e.g. Halliday 1994: 299–302), Theme + Rheme & Given + New, with thematic foregrounding of mood selections and newsworthy foregrounding of the direction of the pitch movement that presumably elaborates the basic mood selection. Tagalog (“VOS”) – # ^ Themeinpterpers. /Assessment ^ Predicator[–,–] ^ NegoNew ^ # (see Martin, this volume): In Tagalog, interpersonal tiator . . . Themetop / Theme is realized positionally by initial position: interpersonal elements of Assessment (including Polarity) serve as Theme; but the Negotiator does not: it follows the Predicator. Interpersonal Theme is differentiated from topical Theme, which is marked segmentally by ang rather than positionally. But topical Theme also shows positional tendencies. Fully lexical Themes tend to conflate with unmarked New and appear at the end of the clause (as indicated by the structural pattern above). In contrast, pronominal, given topical Themes follow the initial interpersonal Theme (if present), coming before the Predicator[–,–] / Process: # ^ Themeinpterpers. / Assessment ^ Themetop . Absolute marked topical Themes appear in first position and are followed by the marker ay; and they are picked up anaphorically within the clause. Japanese (“SOV”) – # ^ Theme . . . Finite/Predicator[–,–] ^ Negotiator ^ # (see Teruya, this volume): In Japanese, as in Tagalog, interpersonal Theme (interpersonal Adjuncts of assessment and Vocatives) is realized positionally by initial position; and the same is true of textual Themes (continuatives and conjunctives). Unlike Tagalog, Japanese tends to place topical Themes early in the clause, after textual and interpersonal ones; but like Tagalog, Japanese may mark topical Themes segmentally by a “postposition” such as wa or mo (although topical Themes may be marked by position alone). And again like Tagalog, Japanese does not associate the mood marking with thematic status: the Negotiator does not serve as Theme and neither does the Predicator (both coming at the end of the clause); and Wh elements are not given thematic status (appearing instead in situ in the same position they would have in the corresponding ‘declarative’ clause). The focus of New information is marked intonationally (Abe 1998: 369–370); the default location would presumably be “pre-verbal” (as it tends to be in “verbfinal” languages such as Hungarian and Hindi) unless it is the Predicator/Process itself that serves as New. Arabic, Tagalog and Japanese thus illustrate different strategies for mapping the interpersonal structure of the clause onto the textual one. Of the three, Arabic is the only language where the Predicator/Process is the default topical Theme (according to my interpretation). It is also the only one of the three where the verb has pronominal affixes and thus can serve as method for tracking discourse

Descriptive motifs and generalizations

referents without independent pronouns being needed. In this respect, Arabic is like e.g. Portuguese, Spanish, Italian and Romanian (but unlike French, where the Subject is obligatory, as in German and English) and many other languages with pronominal verbal affixes. In languages that are not “verb-initial”, we would not expect to find that the Predicator/Process is the unmarked topical Theme (unless we are dealing with a language that has been interpreted as “SVO” but which routinely dispenses with the “S”, as of course happens in many languages10 ).

.... Experiential zones. The experiential mode of expression is configurational (or “orbital” as we put it in the Introduction and in Chapter 4). The transitivity structure of the clause is organized as a configuration of elements, each with a specific value in relation to the whole configuration – the process, participants directly involved in it and associated circumstances: Process + Participants + Circumstances. The most nuclear element in this configuration is the Process (with the exception of unmarked ‘relational’ and ‘existential’ clauses in many languages, as in Telugu [Prakasam, this volume]; see Section 10.2.2.3 below). The Process is conflated with the Predicator, so the Process will be associated with any interpersonal features realized within the Predicator and it will appear in the sequence of clause elements wherever the Predicator is located. In other words, if the Process is “anchored” at the beginning or end of the clause, as it is in e.g. Arabic, Tagalog and Japanese, this is because it is conflated with the Predicator and the Predicator is part of a clause-initial or clause-final interpersonal juncture prosody. The other elements in the transitivity configuration, the participants and the circumstances, seem to be subject to a principle of experiential iconicity. On the one hand, they will appear in a sequence that reflects the order of the flow in the unfolding of a quantum of change – the flow of control or the flow of agency. For example, Actor will precede Goal in Arabic, Tagalog, Japanese, English, French, German, Chinese, Vietnamese and many other languages; in his description of Tagalog, Martin (this volume, Section 5.4.1) writes that “affecting participants tend to precede affected ones”. On the other hand, experiential elements that are semantically closer to the Process will appear closer to it in sequence than elements that are less directly involved in it. Thus participants will typically appear immediately before or after the Process (though textual and interpersonal elements may intervene), and circumstances will be placed further away, unless they “modify” the Process in terms of degree or manner. Among circumstances, “inner” ones are likely to be placed closer to the Process than “outer” ones (cf. Halliday & Matthiessen, 1999: Chapter 5). But this principle of experiential iconicity is only a default: it can easily be over-ridden by textual and interpersonal factors.



in situ

Theme

Theme

in situ

in situ

Japanese no

yes

English

German yes

Chinese no

Vietno namese

Theme textînt ^ Themetop / Subject Adjunct or Complement Theme textînt ^ Themetop / Subject Adjunct or Complement

Predicator

Predicator

[Finite ^ Subject Mood ]

Finite Mood ]

[Subject ^ Finite Mood ]

Finite Mood ] ^ Predicator

Predicator ^ Complement

^ (Subject ^) Complement

Themeinterp ^ Themetop / Given [pronominal] Themetext ^ Themetop / Subject or Compl. or Adj. Theme textînt ^ Themetop / [Subject ^ [Finite ^ Subject Mood ]; Wh Adjunct or Complement Themetext or Theme int or Themetop / [Subject ^ [Finite ^ Subject Mood ]; Wh Adjunct or Complement

Early position Theme / [Negotiator or Wh, Polarity Finite/Predicator] Theme / Subject first position Themeinterp / Assessment ^ Predicator

th: mood Wh partly Theme

Tagalog no

Arabic

Table 10.3 Summary of metafunctional unification and sequence

Focus of New (unmrkd)

Focus of New (unmrkd) Pred [‘free’] or Pred ^ [‘bound’]

Negotiator

Negotiator

Fi/Predicator ^ Negotiator Focus of New (unmrkd) Moodtag

Themetop / New / [any participant or circumstance]

Late position Focus of New (unmrkd)

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

.... Metafunction and sequence. As far as the sequence of elements or “word order” is concerned, the three metafunctions may thus be unified in different ways. The different models of metafunctional unification discussed above are summarized in Table 10.3, together with information about a number of the other languages discussed in this book (thematic alternatives are shown in italics; alternative placements of interpersonal elements are shown within angle brackets). The table also indicates whether there is a link between theme and mood with respect to the status of unmarked Theme and whether Wh elements have a special thematic status or not. These two considerations help us see the differences between English on the one hand and Chinese and Vietnamese on the other. Experiential elements are not shown: as already noted they tend to occur in an experientially iconic sequence, but this default is easily over-ridden by textual or interpersonal considerations. Before leaving this brief discussion of “word order” in the clause, let me comment on the contrast that is often made between “free word order” and “fixed word order”. The terms are highly misleading, and I think it would be very helpful if they could be abandoned because “free” is not free and “fixed” is not fixed. The issue is not one of freedom or fixedness but rather question of which metafunction plays a more dominant role in determining the sequence of elements in the clause). “Free” typically means ‘determined by the textual metafunction’ whereas “fixed” means ‘determined by the interpersonal or experiential metafunction’. Textual considerations have traditionally been overlooked since linguists have tended to work with isolated constructed examples or examples elicited out of context (cf. Rose’s comment in Section 9.2.8 on Dixon’s 1980: 441, claim about the freedom of “word order” in Australian languages). The contrast that has been made more recently between “pragmatic word order” and “grammatical word order” is an improvement over “free” vs “fixed”; but it is still unhelpful because it does not reveal the metafunctional origins of the factors influencing the sequence of elements in the clause: the term “pragmatic” is equivalent to textual, but the term “grammatical” does not reveal whether the factors are interpersonal or experiential. ... Metafunction, mode of expression and variation in medium of expression As noted in Chapter 1 (cf. Figure 1.6), the metafunctions represent different modes of meaning and Halliday (1979) hypothesized that these different modes of meaning engender different modes of expression, with each mode being characteristic of one metafunction and standing in a natural relation to that metafunctional mode of meaning. These correlations are summarized in Table 10.4. Halliday’s hypothesis was based on evidence from English, Italian and Cantonese in the first instance; but patterns in a wider range of languages have since been interpreted in the light

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Table 10.4 Modes of meaning, modes of expression

of the hypothesis, including the accounts in this book (see also Johnston’s 1992, pioneering work on Auslan). The different modes of expression are manifested in different media of expression – most importantly, intonation, sequence and segmental marking. For example, textual waves can be manifested by intonation, by sequence and by segmental marking. I will first consider intonation and sequence as media of expression, and then turn to segmental marking. If we consider the expression media of intonation and sequence, we see that they are both used to realize both textual and interpersonal features. This is possible because both intonation and sequence are complex phenomena that can be

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

deconstructed into independently variable aspects. It is these independently variable aspects that are deployed textually and interpersonally as different modes of expression. (i) As a medium of expression, intonation is complex; it can be deconstructed into both continuous pitch movement (tone contour) and location of major pitch movement (tonic). And this deconstruction of the expressive resource of intonation into two modes has been taken up and deployed by the grammars of many languages: one mode is deployed interpersonally as a prosody (the direction of the pitch movement),11 and the other textually as a wave with a peak of intonational prominence (the location of the major pitch movement). (ii) Similarly, as a medium of expression, sequence is complex; it can be deconstructed into both relative sequence of paired elements, such as Subject and Finite, and linear, absolute sequence, from initial to final position in the clause and other grammatical units. And this deconstruction of sequence into two modes has been taken up and deployed by the grammars of many languages: one mode is deployed interpersonally, as a prosody of movement either from Subject to Finite or from Finite to Subject and as juncture prosodies, and textually, as a wave with a peak of sequential prominence (typically at either the beginning or the end of the clause). See Table 10.3 above. The two expression media of intonation and sequence can thus each be used in either of the two modes of expression: see Table 10.5. The principle behind the pattern in Table 10.5 seems to be that the different metafunctional modes of expression can be “carried” by different media (cf. Matthiessen 1988). This has two implications: (1) there may be other media that can act as “carriers” of waves and prosodies (to retain the focus on the textual and interpersonal metafunctions for a little longer); and (2) while these two media are used to realize complementary systems in the case examined so far (as summarized in the table), it is also possible that they could serve as alternative realizations within the same system in one language or, typologically, across languages. I will discuss these briefly in turn. Table 10.5 Medium and mode of expression medium of expression: intonation

sequence

mode of expression: textual wave intonational prominence: location of major pitch movement [realization of INFORMATION] sequential prominence: location of poles on a cline from early (initial) to late (final) [realization of THEME]

interpersonal prosody intonational suffusion: extension of pitch movement [realization of KEY] sequential suffusion: relative sequence as marker for whole clause [realization of MOOD]

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Beyond pitch and sequence, another major medium of expression is segmental marking: grammatical items at various ranks that serve to realize grammatical features. Table 10.6 below sets out some of these items, distributed according to rank: grammatical particles at clause rank, adpositions at group/phrase rank and affixes at word rank. It might be thought that segmental marking is the medium of expression for the experiential configurational mode par excellence and that it cannot serve as a medium of expression for the other modes. However, segmental marking can in fact be interpreted as being deployed according to the different modes of expression – to mark the peak of a textual wave as prominent over other elements, to mark the value of a prosody that suffuses the whole clause, or to differentiate the component parts of a configuration. These different modes of deploying segmental markers are also shown in Table 10.6 with one or two languages mentioned for each cell. Table 10.6 Segmental marking as medium of expression

group/phrase

clause

class of textual item: wave particles “topic” or “focus” markers (before or after relevant element)

interpersonal prosody interpersonal particles (typically at junctures) marking mood & key, affect, “politeness”, modal assessment, speaker status Mandarin: a etc. after Mandarin: ma/ne/ba the topical Theme etc. and Japanese: [“pause particles”: Li ka/ne/yo etc. clause-final & Thompson 1980: 86] juncture as Negotiator adadpositional markers adpositional marking of positions highlighting (topical) arguability status, but: Theme or (Focus of) verbal: auxiliaries markNew ing modality, polarity Japanese: wa; Korean: un/nun; Tagalog: ang

word

affixes

experiential configuration

nominal: multivariate configurations of adpositional cases, marking participants/ circumstances Japanese: ga + o + ni +kara + . . .

German: Subject nominative; Complement, Adjunct oblique verbal: affixes marking nominal: multivariate mood, modality, polarity configurations of affixal cases marking participants/ circumstances Japanese (modality, Finnish (affixal cases polarity); Greenlandic marking participant (mood) and circumstance roles)

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

The different metafunctional modes of deploying segmental marking can be illustrated by reference to Japanese. Figure 10.2 shows an analysis (in two displays, [a] and [b]) of a constructed example of a Japanese clause, due to Kazuhiro Teruya (cf. Teruya, this volume). 1. Textually, one element is singled out as a peak of thematic prominence in the clause as message – anata wa. It is marked by wa; and the remainder of the clause is thematically non-prominent. That is, textually, the wa-marked element is not part of a configuration of other elements. 2. Interpersonally, the whole clause is enacted as a move giving information with a check for confirmation directed to the listener. This interpersonal selection is realized by the interpersonal particle ne, which serves as a juncture prosody at the end of the clause when the speaker is about to hand over to the listener. This ne is not configured with any of the other elements of the clause; it is “suprasegmental” and marks a feature that colours or suffuses the whole clause. 3. Experientially, the clause is a configuration of elements, each with its own distinctive contribution to the whole: a process, participants involved in the process (Senser, Phenomenon) and attendant circumstances (Time, Place). The participants and circumstances are marked by “postpositions”, each indicating a distinct role in the configuration: Senser-Ø + Time-ni + Place-de + Phenomenon-o + Process. (The exception is the Senser; it would have been marked by ga if it was non-thematic and it is helpful to think of it as being “gawa” (as opposed to “owa”): like thematic participants in general, it only carries the thematic marker wa, whereas circumstances are marked by postposition + wa.) Here the segmentally marked elements do form a configuration of component parts. We can now turn to the second issue raised above: can different media of expression serve as alternative realizations within the same system in one language or, typologically, across languages? They obviously can; but the important principle is that such alternations in medium of expression operate within one and the same metafunctional mode of expression. That is, textual waves may be alternatively manifested sequentially, intonationally, and segmentally; and interpersonal prosodies may be alternatively manifested sequentially, intonationally, and segmentally. As far as I know, no language deploys intonation configurationally; but configuration can be manifested either sequentially or segmentally. We may find such alternations within a single language; and we certainly also find them as a range of alternatives across languages.

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

a. Anata wa kinoo no gogo goji kooen de Suzuki-san o mimashita ne? you ni yesterday ‘of ’ park Suzuki-san see: afternoon 5 formal + past

‘You saw Suzuki yesterday afternoon at 5 in the park, didn’t you?’ b. Anata wa

kinoo no gogo goji ni

kooen de

Suzuki-san o

mimashita

wa

Senser

ne? ne

Time

Place

Phenom.

Process

Figure 10.2 Japanese clause as wave, prosody and configuration

For an initial example, let’s draw on English. English deploys sequence and intonation to realize selections within two complementary systems, theme and information. Now, intonation is of course restricted to spoken English, so if the system of information is in operation in written English in some form, it would have to be realized through an alternative mode of expression. Halliday has hypothesized that new information is realized by sequence in written English: it is placed towards the end of the clause, in the default position for spoken English. Investigations by Halliday, Fries, Martin and others have supported this hypothesis (see e.g. Halliday & Martin 1993); and Thompson’s (1987) text-based study of “dative shift” (the choice in benefactive clauses between “Medium ^ Beneficiary”, with Beneficiary as more newsworthy, and “Beneficiary ^ Medium”, with Medium as more newsworthy) provides further evidence. This means that prominence as new information may be indicated either intonationally (by the major pitch movement) or sequentially (by placement towards the end of the clause). Another example of the principle of alternations in medium of expression within one and the same metafunctional mode of expression from a single language can be taken from the grammar of mood in French. The following examples illustrate sequential, segmental and intonational manifestations of interpersonal prosody for ‘yes/no-interrogative’ clauses in French (from Pedersen et al., 1982: 66– 68):

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

1. La nuit ne viendra-t-elle jamais? 2. Est-ce qu’on a arrêté les agresseurs? 3. Tu connais cette ville? [rising tone] These three variants are not equally common and are not evenly distributed across registers (in particular, the sequential variant with Finite ^ Subject is uncommon in casual spoken French); but that kind of situation is by no means untypical. In her account of the French grammar of mood, Caffarel (1995: 28–31; this volume) shows how the realizational spread of interrogative clauses can be described systemically, interpreting types [1] and [2] above as examples of “grammatical prosody” (cf. Matthiessen 1988). Alternations of this kind within a single language are easy to find. In addition, phylogenetically, one “language” may move through different media of expression within the same metafunctional mode: English is often cited as an example of a language where sequence has become increasingly important in differentiating participants with the gradual loss of segmental case marking. However, perhaps the most striking confirmation that grammars operate with different metafunctional modes of expression that may be manifested in within the same medium of expression or within alternative media of expression comes when we adopt a typological perspective and look across languages. The essential continuity across languages in expressions seems to be a metafunctional one: the metafunctional modes of expression seem to be identifiable across languages and the variation in expression is variation in media of expression within the same metafunctional mode of expression. It is important to note, though, that any generalizations along these lines have to be very tentative at present. It is very hard to extract the information needed from reference grammars and other reference sources. In particular, textual resources have only been given attention in typologically oriented work within the last twenty years or so and interpersonal resources have, in a way, received even less attention (cf. Martin’s 1990, discussion of the marginalizing of the interpersonal in accounts of Tagalog). In addition, intonation and other related phonological prosodic features are often left out of accounts given of languages or treated without any particular reference to grammatical systems. These difficulties notwithstanding, it is of interest to consider what generalizations can be made about each metafunction. The mode of expression engendered by the textual metafunction is, as we have seen, a wave with a peak of prominence and a trough of non-prominence. The peak of prominence may be manifested sequentially, segmentally or intonationally. Table 10.20 in Section 10.5 below lists examples of the realization of thematic prominence and focal prominence (prominence as the focus of New information) for a number of languages.12 Although I have tried to include languages from a number of different genetic families, the list of languages does not in any way con-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

stitute a representative sample; it is merely an illustrative one, based on accounts available to me that were in some sense comparable. From the sample given in the table, it would seem that sequence is the favoured medium of expression for thematic/topical prominence – more specifically, initial position. Some languages in the sample may also use a segmental marker to indicate thematic prominence under certain conditions (English, Mandarin, Tzotzil) and some languages use a segmental marker instead to indicate thematic prominence (the “Austronesian strategy”: Tagalog, Japanese [assuming Austronesian influence on Japanese in this area of the grammar] – but also e.g. Korean and Lisu). However, at least in the case of Tagalog and Japanese, the thematically prominent element of the clause which is marked segmentally is also associated with early position in the clause; and for Japanese there seems to be discourse evidence (based on considerations of “method of development”) for interpreting certain initial elements as thematic even when they are not marked by wa or another textual marker (see Teruya, this volume, for references, examples and discussion). None of the accounts suggest that intonation (or “sentence stress”) is the main medium of expression for thematic prominence. Some accounts note that the Theme may be marked off intonationally – as marked Themes often are in English (cf. Halliday 1967). Like thematic prominence, focal prominence as New information is consistently realized by means of a peak of expressive prominence. This may be achieved by means of sequence – a special position of prominence, in many cases pre-verbal in “verb-final” languages, or towards the end of the clause, by means of segmental marking, and/or by means of intonational prominence (including “stress”). This last feature may be more common than is indicated by a number of accounts simply because many of them do not consider intonation and rhythm. Turning now to the interpersonal metafunction, we find a remarkable consistency across languages in the deployment of the prosodic mode of expression to realize interpersonal features. Thus if we consider the range of strategies for realizing mood features, we find that languages vary in which medium or media of expression they deploy; but this variation is all within the prosodic mode of expression. For instance, the systemic contrast between ‘declarative’ clauses and ‘yes/no-interrogative’ ones is consistently realized prosodically, but the prosody may be manifested sequentially, intonationally and/or segmentally: see Table 10.7 for some examples (see Table 10.15 below for further examples). Among the languages around the world, the sequential strategy seems to be the least common although it is common among languages spoken in Europe. Intonational and segmental prosodies are both common. In a language where the resources of pitch movement are largely taken up by lexical tone (a so-called “tone language”), segmental marking may be the alternative, as in Cantonese, which has a very rich set of interpersonal particles (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume), or some other

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

aspect of pitch may be used, as in Akan, where yes/no interrogatives are spoken on a higher overall pitch level.

... The location of realization along the rank scale As indicated by Figure 10.1, languages vary not only in how they map the metafunctions onto the mediums of expression but also in how they map the metafunctions onto one another in terms of the rank scale. .... The rank scale. The domain of realization of any system might be clause rank, group (/phrase) rank or word rank, as illustrated in Table 10.8. A realization statement associated with a term in a system at clause rank may refer to structural realization at clause rank, group rank, word rank or morpheme rank; a realization statement associated with a term in a system at group rank may refer to at group rank, word rank, or morpheme rank; and so on. The general principle is that realization statements associated with terms in systems at a given rank can refer to structural patterns at that rank and the ranks below. It is the systemic organization that brings together realizational patterns from different ranking environments in the grammar, showing how they are systemically related. For example: –

–

–

Within the interpersonal metafunction, modality may be realized within the domain of the clause as a modal adverbial group or particle (serving as an interpersonal Adjunct), within the domain of the verbal group as a modal auxiliary, or within the domain of the verb as a modal affix – or, intermediate between the two, as modal clitics attached to a group. Within the textual metafunction, reference may be realized within the domain of the clause as referential presumption (structural absence indicating referential continuity) or as independent pronouns, or within the domain of the verb as bound pronominal affixes – or, intermediate between the two, as pronominal clitics attached to a group. Within the experiential metafunction, tense/aspect may be realized within the domain of the clause as separate temporal particles, within the domain of the verbal group as group-rank particles or auxiliaries, or within the domain of the verb as bound tense/aspect affixes.

.... Movements down the rank scale. These different domains of realization are historically related in that in the course of the evolution of a language, there is a general tendency for items to move down the rank scale, as illustrated in Figure 10.3 on page 563 for the clausal domains of Negotiator, Predicator/Process and Subject, Complement/participant. At the same time, the resources of grammatical realization are as it were replenished from above in terms of the rank scale. There are many examples of this.

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

For example, free pronouns are often downranked over time first to pronominal clitics and then to pronominal affixes in the structure of verbs; similarly, temporal and modal auxiliaries may be downranked over time to serve as verbal affixes, as in various African languages (Creissels 2000: 239). Delancey 1985, illustrates the down-ranking move with reference to directionals in Tibeto-Burman languages. Similarly, free verbs and nouns are often downranked over time to serve as adpositions in phrases (via “serial verb” constructions, in the case of verbs; and via facet or possessive constructions, in the case of nouns), and such adpositions may then be further downranked to serve as nominal case affixes (cf. Blake 1994: Chapter 6). For example, most of the variation in the inventory of cases among Uralic languages is mostly due to the devolopment in individual languages of new cases from old postpositions (see Comrie 1981: 119). Synchronically the different stages may of course be present within one of the same language, providing systemically distinct forms of realization (as with the realizations of features of tense in e.g. English and French). As the examples given above suggest, a dominant motif in rank-based variation is the scale from clause (Predicator/Process or a closely associated Adjunct) via verbal group (Auxiliary) to verb (Affix). But there are also other concerns that are related to participants, circumstances and nominal groups. For example, certain specifications of quantity that are internal to the nominal group in English are construed circumstantially in Japanese (sometimes called “floating quantifiers”, which is misleading since they do not float and they are not [nominal] quantifiers). The move down the rank scale in grammar is at the same time a move towards tighter integration in meaning in semantics; this form of iconicity within the content plane of language has been noted in the work on grammaticalization in general and in the discussion of particular domains such as that of causative constructions. The rank scale thus represents a hierarchy of integration on the content plane: the elements of a word are more tightly integrated than the elements of a group, and these are in turn more tightly integrated than the elements of a clause. This hieararchy is reflected on the expression plane, as in the phonological systems of all spoken languages. But here the relationship is less direct, since the “line of arbitrariness” runs between the content systems of lexicogrammar and semantics on the one hand and the expression system of phonology on the other. Phonological rank scales are thus not congruent with grammatical ones: there is, in general, no ranking unit on one scale that corresponds exactly to one on the other. Languages vary in how the two scales relate to one another. For example, in certain languages, the correlation between syllables and morphemes may be foregrounded (cf. Halliday & McDonald’s comments on Chinese being characterized as “monosyllabic”), whereas in others, the correlation between feet (units of rhythm) and words may be foregrounded, giving the grammatical word an unmarked pattern of “accent” in the phonology (as in English). Thus the grammatical unit of word may

mood clitic

verbal affix (mood)

group

word

verbal affix (polarity)

auxiliary (polarity)

[verbal group]

pronominal verbal affix

verbal affix (e.g. modality/tense)

verb

pronominal clitic

auxiliary (e.g. modality/tense)

... in verbal complex

adposition

nominal affix (possession)

noun

nominal affix (case)

[nominal group]

(free) pronoun noun (facet, incl. body part)

participant

Process

verb (e.g. desire/motion)

(Subject, Complement)

Predicator

Figure 10.3 Grammaticalization paths as movements down the rank scale

mood particle

clause

Negotiator

inflection

derivation

word + word modification

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Table 10.7 Prosodic expressions of mood distinctions prosody: sequential general: relative sequence of Subject & Finite French Subject ^ Finite / Finite ^ Subject English Mood: Subject ^ Finite / Finite ^ Subject Mandarin –

Cantonese –

intonational pitch movement or register falling / rising

segmental interpersonal particle or “tag” – / Negotiator: est-ce que

falling / rising

–

√ falling / rising

√ – / Negotiator: ma; or tag: Predicator ^ Negative ^ Predicator √ – / Negotiator: one of a large set of interpersonal particles

–

be reflected in the phonology in various ways: it may be the domain of unmarked locations of accent, of vowel harmony, and of constraints on the number of tones. And the phonology will give different kinds of word distinct treatment, one recurrent example being the cline between grammatical words and lexical ones: the former tend to be shorter than the latter, and are more typically non-salient. Thus when independent pronouns move down the rank scale via pronominal clitics to pronominal affixes, they are at the same time “weakened” phonologically. At the same time, the loss of grammatical “freedom” represented iconically be the emergence of variation in the phonological shape of grammatical items according to their phonological environments; for example, when adpositions are downranked to case affixes, allomorphic variants develop (cf. Blake 1994: 1690).

.... Rank-based spread of realization. Variation in rank of the kind exemplified in Table 10.8 does not necessarily affect the way that realizations from the different metafunctions are mapped onto one another. For example, whether tense/aspect is realized by means of temporal auxiliaries at group rank or by means of bound temporal affixes at word rank is just a matter of local variation; and the two forms of realization are very likely to function together within the tense/aspect system of a given language. For example, the French system embodies both domains of realization (Caffarel 1992), as does the English one (Halliday 1976, 1994: Chapter 6; Matthiessen 1996). However, general tendencies towards one realizational domain or another are significant. Thus languages vary in how they “divide the labour” along the rank scale among clauses, groups and words; this variation is related to Sapir’s dimension of “synthesis”, or the morphological complexity of words. A number of languages do a great deal of work at word rank, using the verb as the domain of realization of textual, interpersonal and experiential systems. This

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Table 10.8 Examples of rank-based variation in realizational domain metafunction system textual theme

anaphoric status

deixis

interpersonal mood

modality

clause Theme (as clausal element)

free pronouns as elements of the clause [English, Chinese, Vietnamese] (constraints on Deictic: determiner thematic[English, Danish] ity/newsworthiness) Negotiation [Arabic, Tagalog, Japanese]; Mood [English, German]

Adjunct [English]

polarity experiential

group (/phrase) pronominal marking attached to verbal group (pronominal clitics, attached to e.g. verbal group [French])

Adjunct [English, Chinese] transitivity participants (as clausal elements)

tense/aspect Adjunct [Chinese, Vietnamese]

(contd.)

spatial direction

Adjunct [English]

textual/interpersonal/ experiential

theme/ sequence of mood/ elements transitivity: role of clausal element nominal elements

word: verb pronominal marking within verbal group bound pronominal verbal affixes [Arabic]

bound (in)definite nominal affixes [Arabic, Danish] bound mood verbal affixes [Korean, Greenlandic]; bound mood affixes, not restricted to verbs [Quechua] Auxiliary [English] bound modal affixes [Japanese] Auxiliary [Finnish] bound negative verbal affixes [Akan] participants participants as attached as clitics bound morphemes to verbal group within v. group Auxiliary [English, bound tempoFrench, German] ral verbal affixes [English, French, German; Japanese] serialized verbs bound verbal affix [Lahu] [Jacaltec, Quechua; Lahu, Jinghpaw] adpositional case marking marking [English: (bound case pre-; Japanese: affixes) [Finnish] post-]; verbal marking (verb in “serial verb” construction) (pronominal pronominal affixes clitics)

tendency has of course been recognized since the 19th century under the heading of polysynthesis. Here verbal affixes do most of the realizational work that may done at higher ranks in other languages, which means that polysynthetic languages

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

make less use of closed word classes (Schachter 1985: 24); but verbal affixes may also correspond to items from open classes, as happens when a noun is incorporated as a representation of a generalized participant. The verb as the domain of textual, interpersonal and experiential realization can be represented as a multivariate structure, where different elements of structure represent distinct metafunctional contributions (cf. Figure 10.4 below). –

–

–

Experiential elements in this multivariate structure include the Event itself – the core of the Process, spatio-temporal affixes marking temporal (tense/aspect) categories or spatial ones (direction, orientation), pronominal affixes representing participants, circumstantial affixes representing generalized circumstances of means (instrument) or quality, and incorporated nouns representing generalized participants. Interpersonal elements include affixes marking the mood of the clause and affixes indicating various types of modal (including modality and evidentiality); the participants that are included may, of course, be either Subject or Complement, assuming these are given distinct interpersonal treatment in the language. Textual elements include affixes marking voice or other textual contrasts. Participants that are represented by means of pronominal affixes are textually identifiable and given. As a realizational domain, the verb is thus used to indicate non-prominent textual status. In contrast, textually prominent elements are given the status of higher-ranking elements in the structure of the clause.

For example, in Panare (Carib, Venezuela), the verb can be represented as the following multivariate structure (based on the schema set out in T. Payne 1997: 61): Person / Neutral ^ (Valence ^) (Detrans ^) (Incorp ^) Root ^ (Deriv ^) Perf / Tense / Mode. In Northern Iroquoian, the verb is structured according to the following “verb template” presented by Mithun (1999: 58): preponominal prefixes ^ pronominal prefixes ^ reflexive prefix ^ noun stem ^ verb root ^ derivational suffixes ^ aspect suffixes ^ final suffixes; and gives en-ts-a-kwa-nenhst-arón:-ko-’ as an example of a Mohawk verb, glossed as future-repetitive-1exclusive_agent-plural-cornset-reversive-perfective_aspect and translated as “we will scrape the corn off the cobb”. And in Kartvelian (Caucasian: South Caucasian), the “verb complex” may consist of the following elements (Comrie 1981: 214–215): (1) Preverb(s) (of direction or orientation), (2) Personal prefix(es) (referencing Subject, Complement), (3) Character- or version-vowel (indicating some type of relationship between participants serving as Subject, Complement (self-oriented action, possession, benefaction), (4) Root, (5) Passive suffix, (6) Causative suffix(es), (7) Plural suffix (relating

experient.

interpers.

mood

assessment pron.

(Adjunct)

pron. incorporated noun circ. (incl. temporal verb root voice cause directionals)

Aux. Aux.

Finite

Given / New Predicator

circumstance Tense/Aspect Process

[generic]

participant participant

(Subject) (Complement)

[identifiable]

Negotiator Assessment

Given

Figure 10.4 Correspondences between clause and verb (polysynthesis)

word rank: verb

clause rank

marked Theme textual (incl. absolute) (New)

reprise Theme

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

to the participant serving as Medium), (8) Present stem-formant, (9) Imperfect suffix, (10) Mood-vowel, (11) Personal ending and (12) Subjective plural suffix. In languages with a polysynthetic division of labour among the ranks, clauses often consist of Predicator/Process: verb alone. For example, Mithun (1987: 287– 289) found that only around 10–12% of all clauses in Cayuga (Iroquoian) and Ngandi (Australia, Arnhem Land) discourse have “separate subject nominals”. In cases of polysynthesis, the verb serves as the domain of nuclear transitivity with participants that are given and/or specific as referents. As a consequence, the clause is the domain of realization of participants when they are textually marked in some way and of circumstances. As Caffarel ’s description of French in this book makes clear, French appears to be headed in the direction of polysynthesis: the Process/Predicator (/Finite) is the locus of pronominal clitics, often combined with non-pronominal Themes at the beginning of the clause and reprise Themes at the end of the clause. As a summary, Figure 10.4 shows correspondences between clause-rank functions in a language like English, Chinese, Thai or Vietnamese and word-rank verbal affixes and verb root in the verb in a polysynthetic language such as Panare or Mohawk.

.... Group rank: Variation. Group rank is intermediate between word rank and clause rank both typologically and phylogenetically: it “competes” with these two ranks. 1. The nature of the grammar of groups in a language will naturally correlate with the nature of the grammar of words: as Table 10.8 illustrates, terms in many systems can be realized structurally at the rank of group by words serving as Modifiers of various kinds or at the rank of word by bound affixes. For example, while the unmarked indication of specificity (definiteness) is a determiner serving as Deictic in the structure of the nominal group in many languages – including English and German, it is a bound determinative affix in e.g. Arabic (the prefix ‘al and its phonological variants) and Swedish (the suffix -et and its morphological variants). 2. Various interpersonal features in particular vary in realization between the clause and the verbal group. For example, modality and polarity may be realized by adverbial groups serving as interpersonal Adjuncts in the structure of the clause or as verbs serving as Auxiliary within the structure of the verbal group or as verbal particles that occur within the structure of the verbal group. There is no sharp line between these two domains; but they are distinct as can be seen for example when a language uses both domains for similar features, as Mandarin Chinese does with aspect (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume). Across languages there is variation in the division of labour between ‘intensive attributive relational’ clauses and nominal groups: the assignment of qualities to a

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

thing may be done either clausally or by means of a nominal group. Halliday & McDonald (this volume) note that Chinese tends to use clauses where English would use nominal groups; and this is related to the location of qualities in the overall experiential system: in Chinese, they are construed as ascriptive processes (verb: stative), in English as features of things (noun: adjective). In the three polysynthetic languages of Cayuga, Coos and Ngandi, qualities are normally assigned within separate clauses rather than within nominal groups; and in Cayuga and Ngandi “adjectival verbs may incorporate the nouns they modify to form a single constituent” (Mithun 1985: 319) – the Process, as in akya’tawi’thrí:yo: “it-dress-nice” (“a/the nice dress”, or “a/the dress is nice”). In languages that have evolved elaborated forms of scientific, administrative, and legal discourse – more generally, forms of discourse characteristic of the life and management of a modern nation state, the nominal group has “swelled” to accommodate metaphorical construals of experience that would be realized clausally in the congruent mode: see for example Halliday (1994: Chapter 10), Halliday & Martin (1993) and Halliday & Matthiessen (1999: Chapter 6, 7), and cf. Rose’s (2001) discussion of the absence of this in Pitjantjatjara. Here the division of labour between the nominal group and the clause has thus been re-adjusted in certain registers. But the most variable aspects of group rank are probably (i) the phrase and (ii) the adverbial group, neither of which occur in all languages. In languages that have both, they “compete” with one another, particularly within the ideational metafunction in the realization of circumstances; and around the languages of the world there is a range of strategies for realizing circumstances, including not only phrases and adverbial groups but also nominal groups (in some “oblique” case) and verbs in verbal group complexes (in so-called “serial verb” constructions). In the interpersonal metafunction, adverbial groups alternate with “particles” serving as elements within the interpersonal structure of the clause (possibly cliticized to some other element), with auxiliaries serving within the verbal group and with affixes serving within the verb. (i) The phrase. (1) Many languages have adpositional phrases – prepositional (e.g. English, German, French, Vietnamese, Arabic) or postpositional (e.g. Japanese, Korean, Turkish, Mongolian, Yukagir, Hindi, Telugu). Phrases can in principle be analysed as (minor) Predicator/Process + Complement/Range (in either order) – that is, they can be interpreted as miniature clauses (see Halliday 1994: Chapter 6); and this analysis helps explain the correlation between the sequence of Predictor + Complement (“V + O”) in the clause and in the phrase: if the clausal sequence is Predicator ^ Complement, the language has prepositional phrases (like e.g. English, Chinese); it if is Complement ^ Predicator, the language has postpositional phrases (like e.g. Japanese, Turkish, Yukagir).

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

However, we need to recognize a phrasal cline between phrases that are very clause-like and phrases that are like nominal groups + a nominal denoting a facet (including body parts, as in a number of languages in Africa: Creissels 2000: 248), with both poles of the cline providing historical sources of adpositions (cf. Heine, Claudi & Hünnemeyer 1991: Chapter 5). The coverbal phrases of Chinese lie at the first pole of this cline whereas phrases where the adposition “governs” the genitive case in e.g. Arabic and German lie at the other pole of the cline (as with the German nominal prepositions diesseits “this side of ”, unterhalb “below”, wegen “for . . . sake”). Nichols (1992: 58) notes that in languages that are “radically headmarking” (e.g. Tzutujil, South America), adpositions are commonly “syntactically indistinguishable from nouns” and have been called “relational nouns”. But these are not mutually exclusive strategies, as is illustrated by e.g. Chinese (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume, examples (10c) and (10d)) and Tetum (Hull 1999: 11). (2) There are also languages such as Dyirbal (Van Valin & LaPolla, 1997: 28, based Dixon 1972) and Akan that do not operate with phrases. In Dyirbal, circumstantial meanings are construed by case-marked nominals (instrumental, locative, allative, ablative cases; Dixon 1972: 42) and/or by by “instrumentative” or “comitative” verb forms (op cit.: 95–99). In Akan, circumstantial meanings that are construed phrasally in languages that have phrases are often construed by means of verbs in “serial verb constructions” – that is, hypotactic verbal group complexes. According to Nichols (1992: 59), the absence of adpositional phrases is “common” in North America” and “close to universal” in Australia, where many languages have cases instead; in Papua New Guinea, verbs in verbal complexes (“serial verb” constructions) do the work of adpositions in phrases in languages with phrases. I shall return to this point briefly in Section 10.3.2.1 below. (ii) The adverbial group. In languages with adverbial groups, these are likely to serve both as interpersonal Adjuncts in the modal structure of the clause and as experiential circumstances in the transitivity structure of the clause. In languages without adverbial groups, or with a very small class of adverbial groups, these two metafunctional domains are likely to correspond to different alternatives. In the interpersonal domain, the work done by adverbial groups may be done instead by interpersonal particles, interpersonal auxiliaries, or interpersonal affixes operating within the verb serving as Predicator (/Process). In the experiential domain, the work done by adverbial groups may be done instead by verbs in verbal complexes, as with phasal verbs, by nominal groups, or by circumstantial affixes within the verb serving as Process (/Predicator). For example, in Arabic, circumstances may be realized by nominal groups in the accusative case. In Nunggubuyu, there is a subclass of noun serving to represent circumstances of time and space in particular (Heath 1984: 154–155).

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

.... Variation in class. Related to variation in rank across languages is variation in class – a phenomenon that has been given special attention in the literature on machine translation. As with variation in rank, the metafunctions define the domains within which we find the variation in realization (cf. Table 10.8 above). (i) In the interpersonal metafunction, the system of mood is one domain of variation in the class of the relevant realizational items: mood contrasts may be realized by modal particles (clause rank), as in Chinese, or by modal verbal affixes (word rank), as in a number of North American languages, e.g. Tonkawa (Texas), Maidu (Northern California) and Algonquian languages (Mithun 1999: 171–172). Another interpersonal domain of variation is modal assessment: modal assessments may be realized by modal adverbs or “particles” (clause rank), by modal auxiliaries (group rank: verbal group), or by modal verbal affixes (word rank: verb), as in Warao (Venezuela; Dixon 1991: 87), where the affix -puhu- means ‘can’ (e.g). ruhu-puhu- ‘can sit’). Thus negative polarity may be realized adverbially or verbally (see further Section 10.4.2.7 below). The same is true of modality; for example, English verbal would like to corresponds to German adverbial gern (cf. Steiner & Teich, Section 3.3.6). (ii) In the ideational metafunction, the system of transitivity is one domain of variation in the class of the relevant realizational items: contrasts in transitivity – in particular those usually referred to under the heading of “valency” – may be realized verbally by means of special verbs such as causative and benefactive verbs in verbal complexes (“serial verb” constructions), as with Akan ma ‘benefit’ (from ‘give’), adpositionally by means of ‘minor’ verbs indicating transitivity roles, as with benefactive for in English, and affixally by means of bound verbal morphemes indicating cause, transitiveness, benefaction, instrumentality, and so on, as with Japanese causative -(s)ase-. In addition, the temporal systems of tense/aspect represent another domain of variation in class: temporal contrasts may be realized by temporal adverbs or “particles” (as with aspect in Chinese; see Halliday & McDonald, Section 6.5.2), temporal auxiliaries (as with secondary temse in English), or temporal verbal affixes (as with tense/aspect in Russian). The same is true of phase: meanings like ‘begin to do’, ‘continue doing’, ‘do first’ may be realized by adverbs, particles, verbs, auxiliaries or verbal affixes. For example, in Dyirbal, the verbal affix -yarracorresponds to the verb start in an English verbal group complex (Dixon 1991: 87). As indicated by the examples already given, variation in class across languages may emerge in the course of evolution (cf. Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994, on the evolution of tense/aspect and modality markers), as when verbs (in “serial verb” constructions) or nouns (in “facet” constructions) are reanalysed as adpositions. (iii) In the textual metafunction, contrasts in voice relating to the textual distribution of participants in the clause may be realized verbally by special voice

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

auxiliaries, as with German werden ‘be(come)’ and Swedish bliva ‘be(come)’ or affixally by bound morphemes, as with Swedish -s and Japanese -(r)areru-. Reference items may be realized pronominally by free pronouns, affixally by pronominal affixes within the domain of the verb, or – intermediate between these two – by pronominal clitics.

... Metafunction and lower-ranking realizations of clausal features Languages thus vary both typologically and historically with respect to where along the rank scale they locate realizations of terms in clausal systems, and which classes of item they are assigned to. But wherever realizational strategies are located along the rank scale, languages also vary with respect to how they assign these strategies to the different metafunctions. This applies in particular to the realizational strategies for marking the role of an element of the clause (the last row of Table 10.8 above): sequence of elements within the clause, adpositions within the phrase and case affixes within the word may be “controlled” textually, interpersonally and/or experientially. For example, the marking of participant roles (experiential) within the experiential system of transitivity, may depend on other experiential systems as well (in particular, those of aspect and animacy, as in the “split” system of e.g. Hindi), and on the interpersonal systems of (i) mood – in particular, there may be special case marking for ‘imperative’ clauses (e.g. T. Payne 1997: 305; Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 174–175, on Finnish) and (ii) polarity – Complements may be marked in different ways in ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ clauses (Moravcsik 1978), reflecting the irrealis status of negative polarity. Similarly, textual considerations may play a role: Complements may be marked by different cases depending on whether they are “definite” or “indefinite” (op cit.) – a systemic distinction within the textual metafunction concerned with the status of referents in the unfolding of text; and case markers may derive historically from a definiteness distinction (e.g. Creissels 2000: 244). In such situations case marking is thus controlled by two or even three metafunctions. In general, the realizational marking within the more nuclear domain of the clause (the participants involved in the process, in experiential terms) is more likely to be multifunctional in this way (cf. J. Lyons 1968). Thus the general principle in German (see Steiner & Teich, this volume), and also in fact in many other languages, is that Subjects are realized by nominal groups in the nominative case and Complements by nominal groups in an oblique case (accusative or dative or occasionally genitive, in the case of German). This principle is an interpersonal one; it is based on the arguability status of participant elements and serves to single out Subjects. (The only exceptions are marginal Subjects (cf. Steiner & Teich’s example (29) – Ich [nominative] friere / Mich [accusative] friert / Mir[dative] is kalt. Here only the first variant has first person concord; the other two have finite verbs in the third person singular.)

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

However, the experiential metafunction also makes a contribution: see Table 10.9. The type of oblique case marking of Complements (accusative, dative or genitive) is determined experientially rather than interpersonally; it depends on the process type: while the default is that a single Complement is realized by a nominal group in the accusative, it may alternatively be realized by the nominative (the Attribute or Value in a ‘relational’ clause of the ‘intensive’ type) or the dative (e.g. with ‘material’ helfen ‘help’, and ‘relational’ ähneln ‘resemble’) or occasionally the genitive (registerially restricted to “higher” registers, e.g. ‘mental’ genießen ‘enjoy’); and while a second Complement is realized by a nominal group in the dative by default (indicating a benefactive role), it may alternatively be realized by a nominal group in the accusative (as with fragen ‘ask’) or more restrictedly in the genitive (registerially restricted to “higher” registers, e.g. anklagen ‘accuse’ and a number of other verbs in the legal field). The greatest variation seems to be found with mental and physiological processes: here the variation in case marking reflects the range of models offered by the grammar for construing these complex domains of experience (contrast for instance examples (26) and (27) in Steiner & Teich’s account). Moravcsik’s (1978) study of “case marking” of Complements (“objects”) confirms this picture: alternative cases realizing Complements correlate with experiential contrasts such as totally affected vs. partially affected, successful performance of process vs. attempted performance (plus the textual contrast between “definite” and “indefinite”); the one interpersonal system that may also play a role is polarity: ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ clauses may display different patterns. In contrast to Subjects and Complements, circumstantial Adjuncts are marked prepositionally in German (with a typically fixed case for the nominal group complement of the preposition – accusative, dative or genitive) according to the experiential type of circumstance. Table 10.9 Interpersonal and experiential functions and realization by case (German) interpersonal function Subject Complement

Adjunct

experiential case function realization nominative [all process types, different participant roles – value according to VOICE] oblique [‘material’:] Goal, Scope [‘mental’:] Phenomenon; Senser [‘verbal’:] Verbiage [‘relational’:] Attribute, Value

oblique

[‘benefactive’:] Recipient; Receiver (realization depends on circumstantial type)

typical case realization

accusative accusative; dative accusative accusative; nominative dative accusative, dative (genitive)

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Japanese is similar to German in that the marking of participant elements is multifunctionally controlled, whereas the marking of circumstances is only experientially controlled (see Teruya, this volume). Thus participants are marked by ga, o or nothing (“zero”), with ni on the borderline between participants and circumstances, when they are not marked as thematic by the textual metafunction (wa). Subjects are marked by ga and Complements by o or nothing (if they are unmarked intensive Attributes or Values in ‘relational’ clauses). When they are marked as thematic, then the participant marker is absent: instead of gawa, owa, we get only wa(and the same applies to mo and other such thematic markers).13 In contrast, circumstances are marked by an experientially determined postposition (ni, e, kare, made &c.) and when they are textually marked as thematic, the thematic marker follows this postposition (niwa, karewa &c.). (Participants marked by ni – e.g. the Beneficiary – follow the pattern of circumstances.) German and Japanese thus illustrate the principle that the marking of elements within the nuclear domain of the clause often depends on complex metafunctional interactions. These interactions are of course subject to typological variation. But there is a clear correlation with Lehman’s (e.g. 1988: 63–64) “grammaticalization scale of case functions”. Interpreted in systemic functional terms, this scale runs from circumstantial roles (Lehman’s “directional adjunct”, “ablative adjunct” and “comitative adjunct”), which are clearly within the experiential domain, to elements within the clause nucleus, which are subject to multifunctional considerations – participants inherent in the process from an experiential point of view; Subject and Complements from an interpersonal point of view. After these remarks about variation within the three metafunctions, I will now discuss them one by one, drawing on the contributions to this book and making reference to accounts of other languages as well. I will start with the ideational metafunction, then turn to the interpersonal one and then complete the tour with the textual one. Throughout the discussion I will focus on the rank of clause; but I will note how languages vary in where they locate realizations of clausal systems along the rank scale.

. Ideational – construing experience The ideational metafunction provides the resources for construing our experience of the world around us and inside us (cf. Caffarel, Martin & Matthiessen, this volume, Sections 1.2.2 and 1.3.2). Within the ideational metafunction, there are two modes of construal – the logical mode and the experiential one. The chapters in this book have dealt mostly with the experiential mode since it is the experiential mode that tends to contribute to the internal organization of the clause while the logi-

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

cal mode organizes clauses and other units into complexes (Halliday 1965/1981). However, the division of labour between clauses and clause complexes varies across languages, so I will start by discussing the balance between the logical and experiential modes before I focus on the major experiential clause system – the system of transitivity.

.. Logical ∼ experiential Within the ideational metafunction, one major source of variation across languages is how their grammars construe quanta of change within the flow of events (cf. Halliday & Matthiessen 1999). This involves both the division of labour between the two modes of the ideational metafunction – the logical (events as sequence) and the experiential (events as configuration) – and the location along the rank scale. What is perhaps the greatest distance between languages in how they construe the flow of events can be illustrated by reference to Kalam (a language spoken in the highlands of Papua New Guinea; Kalam family) and English (see Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: 316–318; Pawley 1987, for the description and interpretation of Kalam). Both Kalam and English can construe the following nuclear roles as an experiential configuration within one clause: Process (realized as verb), “actor/agent, patient”, “time and beneficiary” (Pawley 1987: 353). However, English can expand the clause nucleus considerably further as an experiential configuration, whereas Kalam instead draws on the logical mode to construe sequences of process configurations chained together as clause complexes. Thus where English could use a single clause with a fairly delicately specified process, Kalam would use a complex of clauses with more general processes. For example, English can construe a fairly complex movement of an object along a path as a single ‘material’ process with participants involved and attendant circumstances within one clause: The man threw a stick α: over the fence β: into the garden Actor Process Goal Location nom. gp. v. gp. nom. gp. prep. phrase: complex The Process specifies that the Actor manipulates the Goal, that the Actor gets it to move through the air, and it implies that the Goal will land somewhere. The path of motion is construed as a directional Location realized by a prepositional phrase complex where the location of the unfolding motion (‘over the fence’) is expanded by the destination (‘into the garden’). There is thus a logical contribution to the construal of the process of throwing but it is confined to group/phrase rank – the prepositional phrase complex serving as Location in the clause. In contrast, this movement along a path would be construed as four processes realized by four clauses in Kalam (Pawley 1987: 354; my adhoc functional interpretation):

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

B mon-day d man stick hold

yokek he-dis placed -different subject Process Process clause 2

waty at amb wog-mgan yowp fence above it-went gardenit-fell inside

Actor Goal clause 1

Location clause 3

Proc.

Location clause 4

Proc.

Pawley (op cit.) comments on the difference between Kalam and English: Such a comparison is of interest, I believe, in that it may indicate roughly the outer limits of variation among languages in resources and conventions encoding event-like phenomena. In these respects Kalam may be as different from English as any language on earth. ... English speakers who are learning Kalam, or translating Kalam discourse into English, find many Kalam accounts of happenings extraordinarily explicit and long-winded. When describing an activity Kalam speakers will routinely single out for mention certain aspects or components of the activity that English speakers normally leave out or fuse together with other components. (p. 335) ... one important difference between English and Kalam is that Kalam has few event expressions that are very high on the scale of conceptual complexity. Kalam clauses (if they are clearly single clauses) usually denote simple events. English speakers, on the other hand, freely use single clauses to represent episodes and other complex conceptual events. The restrictions in Kalam are related to the small number of verbs. Verb stems are a closed set, comprising about 90 members. ... Fewer than 30 verb stems, all having very broad or abstract meanings, account for more than 90 per cent of verb stem occurrences in Kalam texts. (pp. 336–337)

Kalam and English thus divide the labour of construing experience in different ways between the logical and experiential modes.14 While English construes an elaborate taxonomy of process types experientially, Kalam construes series of processes logically. As a result, clauses in the two languages are not necessarily (or even typically) co-extensive. In general, meanings that are construed prepositionally in a language like English as part of the experiential configuration of elements around the Process tend to be construed verbally in a logical series in Papuan languages (see Foley 1986: 114). Let me give a similar example from a different language. In Trique (Mexico), a speech event is construed logically as a sequence of two clauses, one ‘verbal’ one and one ‘mental’ one (Longacre 1985: 262–263), as in Gatah Juan → guni Maria, which can be glossed adhocly as Process [‘said’] + Sayer [Juan] → Process [‘heard’] + Senser [Maria]. English would construe this experientially as configuration within a single ‘verbal’ clause, expanded by the presence of a Receiver: John told Maria – Sayer + Process + Receiver. In fact, Steiner & Teich (this volume) point

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

out that even English and German differ within the overall space of the ideational metafunction in the division of labour between the experiential and logical modes: in many cases where (certain written registers of) English would use the experiential model, German would use the logical one. This is related to differences between the two languages in the nature of grammatical metaphor. In the case of Kalam and Trique on the one hand and English on the other, the division of labour between the logical and experiential modes of construing experience is located at clause rank. However, there is a similar division of labour between the experiential and logical modes further down the rank scale – between clause and group. For example, where English would construe motion along a path as a configuration of a process of motion and a circumstance representing the path within a clause – Yaw will go α: from Kumase β: to Nkran Actor Process Location nom. gp. v. gp. prep. phrase: complex – Akan (Niger-Congo: Kwa) would construe both motion and path as a logical sequence of related processes (tone marks omitted): Yaw Yaw Actor nom. gp.

α: b7firi leave Process [1] α: v. gp.

Kumase Kumase Range nom. gp.

β: akf go-to Process [2] β: v. gp.

Nkran Nkran Range nom. gp.

The Akan strategy is what has been called a “serial verb construction”, which is common in e.g. West Africa and South-East Asia, as in Thai (see Patpong, in prep.), but the strategy is actually simply one of the strategies involving the logical mode in the construal of the flow of events: it is logical sequencing within the domain of the verbal group.15 It is thus, as I noted above, related to clause complexing and it is also related to “verb compounding” where one verb (α) is expanded by another verb (β). This sequencing at word rank is deployed by Chinese – so-called completive or resultative verb compounds (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume; see also McDonald 1993). For example (Li & Thompson, 1981: 61; tones unmarked): qing ni α: tui β: kai please you push pv: open Actor Process nom. gp. verbal group: verbal complex “Please push this door open.”

zhei-ge men this meas door Goal nom. gp.

There are various functional equivalents in English, including clause complexing (where the Chinese Process realized by a verbal compound is ‘split’ into two En-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

glish clauses, each with one part of the Chinese Process) and resultative attribution within a simple English clause, as for the example above: Please [Actor:] ‘you’ [Process:] push [Goal:] this door [Attribute:] open, where English construes the result as a component part of the experiential configuration of the clause. The common motif in cases considered here is the expansion of the clause nucleus: experientially, the clause consists of a nucleus (cf. Chapter 1) consisting of the Process plus one participant. The extent to which the clause can be expanded beyond the clause nucleus to be configured with additional participants and even further expanded to be configured with circumstances is variable across languages. As we have seen, English can push the configurational organization of the clause further than a language like Kalam. But all languages will in a sense expand the clause nucleus; the question is whether they do it configurationally through additional elements within the simple clause (experiential mode) or sequentially (logical mode). If they do it logically, they can expand the clause nucleus by constructing complexes either at clause rank or at group/ phrase rank. The different strategies for expanding the clause nucleus are summarized in Table 10.10. In the expansion of the clause nucleus, there is thus a cline from expansion by nominal groups as directly involved in the process (participants) via nominal groups obliquely involved in it (circumstances) to expansion by clauses with their own (major) processes. This cline of expansion throws light on the status of adpositional phrases discussed in Section 10.2.2.4 above. Phrases form a cline (i) from those that are like “faceted” nominal groups, where the adposition is (historically derived from) a nominal – prototypically a spatial facet – and the nominal group thus enters into the configuration of the clause as an oblique participant (related according to the angle of involvement denoted by the facet), (ii) to those that are like a miniature clause, where the adposition is a (minor) process, (often historically derived from) a verb. The coverbal phrases of Chinese exemplify this second pole of the cline. This pole lies at the border area of expansion by a clause outside the boundary of the simple clause; but while the coverbal phrases of Chinese are constructed with verbs such as zai “be at” just as clauses are, they are systemically and structurally more restricted than full clauses: for example, they cannot be constructed with (systemically variable) aspect (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume). The examples given above serve to illustrate the general principle of typological variation between the logical and experiential modes of construal. The examples illustrate variation in how our experience of the flow of events is “quantized”;16 but other aspects of the human construal of experience are also subject to the logical / experiential variation. Thus time may be construed either logically or experientially. (i) Within the logical mode, time is construed serially as serial time, as in the tense systems of English (Halliday 1976, 1994: Section 6.3; Matthiessen 1983, 1996), as in Halliday’s

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Table 10.10 Types of expansion of clause nucleus clause

experiential logical Process: Participants: Circumstances: Proc., Part., Circ.:

group/ v.gp. phrase

nom. gp. phrases (+adposition) (including coverbal phrases) e.g. Chinese simple clause

expanding clause e.g. Kalam

group/phrase complexes e.g. Akan

clause complex

casual spoken example it’ll’ve been going to’ve been being tested, and (to a lesser extent) French (Caffarel 1992). (ii) Within the experiential mode, time is construed taxonomically as taxonomic distinctions within linear time (cf. the discussion of degrees of remoteness in Comrie 1985: Chapter 4). For example: –

–

–

In the tense system of Bamileke-Ngyemboon (Niger-Congo: Bantu), theres is a four-term contrast within both the past and the future (e.g. imperfective past: earlier today / yesterday / within the last few days / a long time ago; Comrie, 1985: 96–97). In the tense system of Washo (Nevada; Mithun 1999: 152–153, based on Jacobsen 1964), there is a four-term contrast within the past (-lul ‘distant past’ [“before the lifetime of the speaker”] / -gul ‘remembered past’ [“in the distant past but still within the lifetime of the speaker”] / -ay‘ ‘intermediate past’ [“a time in the past earlier than the same day but not in the extremely distant past”] /-leg ‘recent past’ [“an earlier point on the same day, or during the preceding night”]) and a three-term constrast within the future (-áša‘ ‘near future’ [“in the near future with respect to the time of speaking . . . from the immediate future to a time perhaps an hour or so later”] / -ti‘ ‘intermediate future’ [“expected to take place in the future, not immediately but after the lapse of a short interval of time . . . usually . . . in the later portion of the same day”] / -gab ‘distant future’ [“further in the future than one indicated by the intermediate future, expected to take place on the following day or at any later time”]). In the tense systems of many Papuan languages, there is more than one past tense – a near past, and a remote past and there may be more than one future tense (Foley 1986: 159–161). For example, the Yimas tense system is: remote past / near past / present / near future / remote future.

(The contrast between the models of time embodied in tense and aspect systems is based on the ideational contrast between linear time (tense) and non-linear time (aspect) – between the progression of time from the past via the present to the

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

future and the stages of unfolding of a process in time. But this is not a contrast between the logical and the experiential modes; both non-serial tense systems and aspect systems are construed experientially.)

.. Experiential: The basic system of transitivity ... The construal of a quantum of change I have suggested that in construing our human experience of the flow of events, languages vary in where they draw the line between one quantum of change and a series of quanta: what is construed as a single quantum in one language may be construed as a series of quanta in another (cf. also Halliday & McDonald’s discussion of “relational extensions of other processes” in Chinese in Section 6.5.1.1.4). However, many languages – perhaps all – have a system for construing one quantum of change as a configuration of a process unfolding through time, participants directly involved in this process (by bringing it about, by being impacted by it, etc.), and circumstances indirectly involved in this process. This is the system of transitivity. An essential feature of transitivity systems is that they construe a quantum of change as a fundamental experiential complementarity of unfolding through time (process, realized by verbal groups with temporal tense/aspect systems) and persistence through time (participant, realized by nominal groups with “spatial” deixis systems): change is construed as involving both transition and permanence (see Halliday & Matthiessen 1999, esp. pp. 133–134).17 Thus experiential features of the clause often involve both process and participants. For example, if a quantum of change is construed as being incompletely manifested, this is likely to mean that the clause is both imperfective (the temporal profile of the process) and low in affectedness (the impact on one of the participants). This kind of process/participant complementarity in the construal of change is reflected in Hopper & Thompson’s (1980) transitivity hypothesis. The transitivity systems of the languages described in this book seem to be broadly similar in the general organization. They have more or less the same range of primary terms within the system of process type, although ‘existential’ processes are variable; for example, while they can be described as one of the primary process types in English, there are reasons for treating them as a subtype of ‘relational’ processes in Chinese (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume). However there is considerable variation in the elaboration of the primary process types, i.e. in the more delicate parts of the transitivity system. I will exemplify this principle by reference to ‘mental’ clauses below. In general, transitivity systems seem to be constructed out of two systemic variables – (i) a model of how experience of “flux” are sorted into a small number of

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

basic domains or process types (Section 10.3.2.2); and (ii) a model of how participants are involved in the process (Section 10.3.2.3). According to the first model, transitivity is diversified into a number of subsystems, each specific to a particular type of process. According to the second model, there are patterns of participant involvement in the process that generalize across all domains of experience. I will discuss these in turn.

... process type .... Principle behind process types. The basic principle behind the system of process type seems to be something along the following lines (note that Rose calls this system “figure type” in his description of Pitjantjatjara, taking the term “figure” from the description of ideational semantics in Halliday & Matthiessen 1999). Human experience of change is construed as a contrast between the experience of the unfolding of consciousness and the experience of change external to this unfolding of consciousness. I think we can trace this contrast back to the way experience is sorted out during the protolinguistic stage (see e.g. Halliday 1975; Painter 1984, for the ontogenetic perspective). Halliday (1992: 21) discusses the evolution of (the experience of) meaning: “It probably evolved out of the contradiction between the two primary modes of experience, the material and the conscious. Material processes are experienced as ‘out there’; conscious processes are experienced as ‘in here’.” This is not yet a system of process types – far from it: the experiential theory of process types would only have emerged with the evolution of (modern) language. But it represents the experiential foundation on which the distinction between consciousness unfolding and “the rest” must be based – “I’m curious (conscious) about what’s going on (material)”. The unfolding of consciousness are construed in languages as processes of sensing – grammaticalized as ‘mental’ clauses. The “rest” – what’s going on out there – is construed either as unfolding over a relatively short period of time, with input of energy, or as unfolding inertly over long period of time. The former are processes of doing (or doing-&happening, to be more precise), which are grammaticalized as ‘material’ clauses. The latter are processing of being (with having as one type of being), which are grammaticalized as ‘relational’ clauses. There would thus be three primary process types that are very common across languages – sensing, grammaticalized as ‘mental’ clauses; doing, grammaticalized as ‘material’ clauses; and being, grammaticalized as ‘relational’ clauses (cf. Caffarel, Martin & Matthiessen, this volume: Section 1.3.2). The three types seem to be deployed to do distinct discursive work (cf. comments on discourse and different clause/verb types in e.g. Grimes 1978; Longacre 1990; and see e.g. Rose, this volume, for a detailed illustration of process type at work in Pitjantjatjara discourse). For example, ‘material’ clauses are used to create the event line in narrative and procedural discourse while ‘relational’ clauses are used to specify nar-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

rative and procedural conditions and outcomes. ‘Material’ clauses are important in event-oriented reports while ‘relational’ clauses are central to object-oriented ones. ‘Mental’ clauses may construe viewpoint and reaction in narratives and preference in procedures; and they play an important role in the various registers within casual conversation. The three types are all included as primary process types in the languages described in this book and they have also been identified in other systemic functional accounts of e.g. Finnish (Shore 1992, 1996), Danish (Andersen, forthc.; Andersen, Helm Petersen & Smedegaard 2001) and Akan (Matthiessen 1987). However, in his description of Gooniyandi, McGregor (1992) sets up a somewhat different range of process types (or “situation types”, in his terms). The basic contrast is between ‘situational’ ones (linked to the experiential metafunction) and ‘relational’ ones (linked to the logical metafunction); and within the ‘situational’ class he posits ‘being’, ‘receptive’, ‘active’, and ‘behavioural’. One of the differences is that there is no distinction between ‘mental’ and ‘material’ clauses in his account and McGregor (op cit., pp. 382–383) speculates that the supposed lack of a distinction can be related to features of the Gooniyandi world view. His argument is not convincing, and we must be very cautious in linking process type distinctions to relatively overt features of a culture’s world view. (As my remarks above indicate, I think the process types are “deeper” in origin, relating to very general features of how humans construe experience.) McGregor does not foreground ability to project as a criterion for distinguishing process type, and since the potential for projection is one of the salient properties of ‘mental’ clauses, I suspect that if projection were considered, ‘mental’ clauses might emerge as a category in the grammar of Gooniyandi. However, since there is no space here to explore McGregor’s account, it will have to be recorded as an interesting challenge to the generalization that ‘material’, ‘mental’ and ‘relational’ constitute very general, primary process types. More generally, in the typological literature, it seems that a category like that of ‘mental’ clauses comes up again and again because clauses of this type have special properties, for example in the marking of the Senser. Thus in languages with case marking the Senser is often realized by a nominal group in a different case from that of the Actor in a ‘material’ clause – very often the “dative” case, as least for some Sensers (as in German (see Steiner & Teich, this volume, and Table 10.9 above in this chapter), Sherpa, Kannada (Dravidian), Telugu (Dravidian; see Prakasam, this volume, who notes that this case-marking pattern is one of the features of the South Asian linguistic area)), or an “oblique” case (as in Hindi (Indo-European: Indo-Iranian)). Comrie (1981: 223) notes that while Caucasian languages in general are characterized by ergative-absolutive case-marking, ‘mental’ clauses are different: nine North-East Caucasian languages (e.g. Andi) have a special “affective case” for marking the Senser of a Process realized by a verb of “feeling or perception”. Other

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Caucasian languages without this affective case may use the dative (as in Chechen), or the dative with feeling and the locative with perception (as in Avar). The Phenomenon may be realized by a nominal group that is in a different case from that of the Goal of a ‘material’ clause (as in Finnish (Finno-Ugric), where it may be in a locative case: see Shore 1996: 255). Such differences in case marking are consistent with Hopper & Thompson’s (1980) transitivity hypothesis: the Senser of a ‘mental’ clause is construed as less active than the Actor of a ‘material’ clause; and the Phenomenon of a ‘mental’ clause is construed as less impacted than the Goal of a ‘material’ clause. In fact, languages often have two complementary models of the “flow” within ‘mental’ clauses, either Senser → Phenomenon (the English “like” type) or Phenomenon → Senser (the English “please” type). There seem to be many ways in which the three basic process types are realizationally distinct in the languages of the world: the kinds of property that are involved are set out in Table 10.11. Examples of actual differences within various languages are given in Table 10.12. The table identifies recurrent differences among ‘material’, ‘mental’ and ‘relational’ clauses that relate to the process itself, participants and the potential for projection. There are often overt markers that distinguish process types;18 these include verbal affixes within the Process (as in Tagalog, in this volume) and “case markers” within participants (as in German, Pitjantjatjara, Telugu and Japanese, in this volume). However, it is important to take more covert patterns and reactances into account as well. More covert patterns include constraints on the different participants that are configured with the Process, as illustrated by Teruya (this volume) for Japanese in his Table 7. These constraints may be fairly general, involving grammatical classes and special grammatical or semi-grammatical items (such as fact and other “fact” nouns in English and no and koto and other “koto” nouns in Japanese), but they may also be more specific, involving lexical classes and collocational patterns (for detailed illustration of how this works in Japanese, see Teruya 1998, and Teruya, this volume; for a general discussion, see Martin 1996b). Thus even in a language such as Thai, Vietnamese or Chinese where there are no overt case markers, participant roles will be differentiated in terms of constraints on what kinds of nominal group can realize them. Reactances include ranges of pro-verbs for different process types, tense/aspect features of different process types and high or low likelihood of certain circumstances (cf. Matthiessen 1999, in press). The system of process type will thus represent, in any language, a generalization across a range of criteria. Thus for Tagalog, Martin (1996a) identifies criteria such as the following: (i) Process – whether it is structurally present or not, range of verbal affixes, how it is questioned, nature of ability/involuntary action paradigm; (ii) participants – number of inherent participants, constraints on class (e.g. consciousness, fact-hood), potential for be-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Table 10.11 Properties involved in distinguishing process types process participants affixes indicating participant roles (as in Abkhaz, Mohawk, Yimas) “dependentcase-marking (as in marking” German, Russian, Finnish, Permiak, Telugu), adpositional marking (as in Japanese) – different patterns for different process types constraints on (i) constraints on class of tense/aspect (as in nominal (all lgs); special English, Chinese, (ii) grammaticalized verb class (all lgs) nominals (as in Japanese, according to process e.g). no, koto; English, type; verbal affixes e.g). fact); special according to process participant markers (as type (as in Tagalog); in Chinese: ba; Spanish special pro-verbs (as in a; English: to/with) English: do)

projection

“headmarking”

± potential for projection according to process type

ing topic-marked (one or two participants); (iii) projection – whether clause can project or not; (iv) nominalization affix. One major area of typological variation is likely to be the degree of systemic elaboration of the system of process type. The languages discussed in this book all have vast lexical resources of verbs realizing highly elaborated process type systems. While there will obviously be a certain amount of variation among them (for example, processes are construed as very specific in Chinese in comparison with English, with e.g. twelve verbs corresponding to ‘cut’ and twenty or more to ‘carry’ [see Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: 309–310]), such variation seems minor in comparison with the situation in Kalam and a number of other Papuan languages. In these languages, there are very small stocks of verbs, perhaps only around 100 verb stems. This is related to the trade-off between the experiential and the logical modes of construal discussed in Section 10.2.1 above: experience of change may be construed either experientially by a considerable taxonomic elaboration of processes or logically by a considerable serialization of processes. Foley (1986: 114-115) summarizes the work by A. Pawley on Kalam: The pervasive tendency of Kalam to describe in a sequence of component events what would be conceived as a single event in English and labelled by

mental

participants Actor: how active? animate – potent – extended beyond animacy/potency nominative

Goal: how manipulable? inanimate – animate

accusative (other case such as the partitive in Finnish if less affected); potentially special marker for animate Goal (such as Spanish a); special Goal marker in certain constructions (such as ba in Chinese) possibly “stative” verb Senser: conscious being, Phenomenon: anything (as for some in Akan); sometimes represented process may be reversible by special body part (as (‘like/please’, as in in Akan; cf. Payne English, French, 1997: 60 on various lgs) German, Akan); special nominative accusative(as in one mental affix (as in Tagalog: ma-) type in German) dative (as in one type in nominative German; Sherpa, Kannada oblique (as in Hindi) nominative accusative (as in one type nominative in German) nominative locative case (as in Finnish)

Process material full tense/aspect paradigm; special affix (as in Tagalog: -um-, mag-; -in-, i-, -an)

Table 10.12 Characteristics of the basic process types

√

projection Recipient: Representation of result – (as resultative Role, Attribute or as Location); resultative phase. dative

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Process relational Process often structurally absent in clause unmarked for tense/aspect and/or polarity; Process often realized by non-salient verb. Constraints on tense/aspect; no completive phase for existentials in Chinese

Table 10.12 (Continued.) Attribute, Value: anything

matched in terms of phenomenal type, but different in generality or abstractness nominative nom. or accusative (depending on the Process, as in German, Arabic) “nominative” unmarked (as in Japanese)

participants Carrier, Token: anything

projection –

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

a single English verb is closely correlated with perhaps its most salient typological feature: comparative dearth of verb-stems. Kalam has under 100 verb stems and, of these, only about twenty-five are commonly used. Almost every action, process or state is categorized to one of these twenty-five verbs, which Pawley (1980) calls “generic verbs”. In comparison to English, these generic verbs have a very general meaning, according to the context. For example, the Kalam verb pag- roughly means ‘cause to become in an unstable condition’, and would be translated by the English verbs: break, collapse, shatter, chip, dent, crease, fold, ripple, be sprung (of a trap), have a hollow, pour (liquid). Note the wide range of English verbs corresponding to Kalam pag-; it seems implausible to suggest a core English verb corresponding to it. . . . In natural Kalam discourse, these generic verbs are combined together or with more specific verbs or nominals in order to describe actual events more precisely. The combination of two or more verbs correspond to what are called serial verb constructions in descriptions of west African or southeast Asian languages.

The nature of the systemic elaboration of process type also varies across languages for different systemic domains. This has been studied in terms of lexicalization patterns, with some fields such as motion (in the work by Leonard Talmy, e.g. Talmy 1985) and perception (Viberg 1981) providing examples of the nature of this variation. Processes are differentiated according to different properties of the participants that are involved in them, and this may be made morphologically explicit by the lexicogrammar of a languages, as with the “classificatory verbs” of Athabaskan languages (Mithun 1999: 106–117). There are different verbal affixes relating to the shape, consistency and other properties of the participant affected by the performance of the process. For example, in Bearlake (Athabaskan), there are different ways of saying “Hand me the tea” depending on what shape the tea comes in, each conventional shape being represented by a different suffix (op cit., 107). Similarly, in Waris (Papuan), there are classificatory verbal prefixes indicating the general class of participant, e.g. vela- (objects found inside a container), put- (spherical objects, typically fruit), ih- (grainy materials); and in certain other Papuan languages (e.g. Enga ), different verb roots are used: see Foley (1986: 88–91).

.... Material clauses. Material clauses are clauses of ‘doing-&-happening’ – actions, activities, events and the like, where an input of energy is needed to initiate the unfolding of the process and where the process typically unfolds over a relatively short period of time. Material clauses serve to construe the event line in narrative and procedural discourses (often together with verbal clauses in the former case); see e.g. Longacre (1990: 2). Prototypically the material domain is concrete; but it extends to include abstract realms as well (much scientific and administrative discourse is of this kind; see e.g. Martin & Veel 1998). There may be up to three participants involved in a ‘material’ process clause – Actor + Goal

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

+ Recipient or Client; but the number of participants is typologically variable (cf. the discussion of Kalam in Section 10.2.1 above), as are the strategies for bringing in extra participants (for example, so-called “serial-verb constructions” may be used to construe a Recipient, as in Akan: [Actor:] Kofí (Kofi) [Pro-] dè (take) [Goal:] nwóma (book) [-cess:] ma (benefit) [Recipient:] Yaw (Yaw) – ‘Kofi gave Yaw a book’, where the Process is realized by the discontinuous verbal series α: dè . . . β: ma.). While the prototypically transitive ‘material’ clause is configured with Actor + Goal, many languages also have another, less transitive two-participant clause type with Actor + Scope (or material “Range”). Unlike the Goal, the Scope is not impacted by the performance of the process; rather it defines the domain of application of the process – prototypically the spatial domain of a process of motion. It is often treated differently from the Goal. For example, in both Akan and Chinese, the Scope of a process of motion is realized by a nominal group that contains a specification of the “facet” of the domain of motion, as in the following Akan clause of motion (tone marks left out): Ananse kff onyankopfn hf A. went God ‘facet’: side Actor Process Scope “Ananse went to God.” In Akan, the pro-item for such a Scope is not a pronoun but rather the pro-adverb hf ‘there’ (cf. Japanese, where such Scopes are probed with doko ‘where’). We might assume that the Actor prototypically construes an animate being or at least a potent entity (including natural forces) and the Goal an inanimate entity; but this is highly variable across registers (contrast, for example, traditional narratives with scientific expositions) and across languages. In English, a wide range of entities can be construed as Actor in ‘material’ clauses with a Goal – including not only potent entities, but also other concrete entities and even abstractions and metaphorical entities (see e.g. Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: 482–483). In contrast, many languages seem to operate with a more constrained Actor role, including German (Steiner & Teich, this volume), Japanese (Teruya, this volume) and Pitjantjatjara (see Rose’s comment, this volume, that in Pitjantjatjara discourse it is overwhelmingly people who act on the world rather than the other way around). For example, while it is possible to say the earthquake destroyed the building in English, this would have to be construed as the building collapsed because of the earthquake in Japanese [jishin de tatemono ga kowareta; from a paper on machine translation by M. Nagao, J. Tsujii, and J. Nakamura], with ‘earthquake’ as a circumstance of Cause rather than as an Actor. But the constraints may be even stricter, as in Navajo (Na-Dené). Witherspoon (1977: 71–72) reports on work that suggests that entities represented by nouns in

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Navajo are ranked according to their “inherent capacity to act upon in relation to other beings” into eight groups: “persons”, “larger animals and medium-sized animals of special intelligence or relationship to man (such as the dog) and predators”, “medium sized animals”, “small sized animals”, “insects”, “natural forces”, “plants and inanimate objects”, and “abstractions such as old age, hunger, disease”. The principle in Navajo is that “entities or beings within each group can freely act upon each other” but an “inversion rule” is needed “when a lower status being acts upon a higher status being”. Later Witherspoon comments (p. 75): “Who can act upon whom or who can control whom is of basic interest and concern to Navajos and is one of the dominant perspectives in the Navajo world view.” Similarly, Givón (1982: 106) notes that most inanimates cannot serve as Actors in “prototypically transitive” clauses in Hare-Dene (Athabascan). Thus while it is possible to say (my adhoc functional labeling) [Actor:] Pierre [Goal:] John [Process:] lá-ni-he-we (die-aspect-cause) with Pierre as animate Actor, it is not possible to say [Actor:] eyayi (disease) [Goal:] John [Process:] lá-ni-he-we (die-aspect-cause) with eyayi ‘disease’ as Actor. When a language is of the “dependent-marking” type (see Nichols 1986, 1992 and cf. Table 10.11 above), the marking of the participants of a ‘material’ clause seems to be fairly straightforward: in an ‘operative’ (“active”) clause, the Actor is realized by a nominal group in the nominative case, the Goal by a nominal group in the accusative case and the Recipient by a nominal group in the dative case (as in German: [Actor:] Grete [Process:] bezahlte [Recipient:] dem Kutscher [Goal:] die Fahrt.). However, there may be systemic variants where lower affectedness of the Goal is indicated by a case other than the accusative. Thus in Finnish the nominal group realizing the Goal is in partitive case when the clause is ‘nonbounded’, contrasting with the genitive and nominative cases for nominal groups in general and with the accusative case for nominal groups with a pronominal head referring to humans (Shore 1992: 94–99; Shore 1996: 250–251; see also Hopper & Thompson 1980: 241, on how this relates to their transitivity hypothesis ). For example, [Actor:] Anna (Anna-NOM) [Process:] maalasi (paint+PAS/3SG) [Goal:] talon (house+GEN), with talon ‘house’ in the genitive, means ‘Anna painted a/the house (completed all of it)’, whereas [Actor:] Anna [Process:] maalasi [Goal:] taloa (house+PAR), with taloa ‘house’ in the partitive case, means ‘Anna was painting a/the house ∼ Anna painted part of a/the house’ (Shore 1996: 251). This use of the partitive case in contrast with other cases is a feature of Balto-Finnic languages in general: see Comrie (1981b: 128). See also Moravcsik (1978) on the partitive in Hungarian. The Finnish example illustrates the very general principle referred to in Section 10.2.2.1 above that a quantum of change is construed as a process/participant complementarity. The ‘nonbounded’ nature of the clause is manifested in the interpretation of both the process and the participant (the Goal). Indeed, the Goal may

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

be incorporated within the Process when it is not construed as a full-fledged participant, as in Chukchi (Chukchee) [Chukotko-Kamchatkan] (Comrie 1981b: 250; also discussed in Hopper & Thompson 1980) and many (though not all) languages spoken in North America (Mithun 1999: 44–47). The same principle is also at work in transitivity systems where there is a “split” within ‘material’ clauses (and perhaps within other process types as well) in the marking of participants – a split that correlates with the temporal features of the process: if the clause is past/perfective, the marking is ergative; but if it is not, the marking is transitive (“nominative-accusative”). There are no examples of such a system among the languages described in this book; but this kind of system is found in an area that includes Indo-Aryan languages such as Hindi and Urdu, Marathi and Punjabi and Iranian languages such as Pashto and Kurdish (Blake 1994: 129–130). Here the Actor in an Actor + Goal clause is marked “ergatively” by a postposition only in the perfective aspect. Thus in Hindi [Actor:] vah (he-nonoblique) [Goal:] kita:b (book) [Process:] likh raha: tha: means ‘he was writing the book’, but [Actor:] usne (he-obl+ “ne”) [Goal:] kita:b [Process:] likhi: with the Actor us marked by the ergative postposition ne means ‘he wrote the book’ (examples from McGregor 1976: 71). The split may also correlate with the participanthood of the “Goal”, as in Tongan [Austronesian] (discussed in Hopper & Thompson 1980), where it seems that clauses with a specific Goal are marked ergatively whereas clauses with a non-specific Goal are marked absolutively. It is to be expected that languages will vary considerably in how they organize more delicate distinctions within the ‘material’ domain. The material domain is vast – according to my estimate for English, at least two thirds of all verb senses belong to this domain (see Matthiessen 1999) and according to my analysis, roughly 60% of Levin’s (1993) verb classes fall within the ‘material’ process type. Consequently, it will take a great deal of time to sort out the material lexicogrammars of individual languages before we are able to discern patterns of typological congruence and variation. However, it is possible to identify local areas within the material grammar where there are interesting patterns of variation. For example, while many languages – perhaps all – have a distinct material process type for construing giving as a kind of transfer of possession, languages vary in how they construe dispossession. There are at least two models. According to one, dispossession is construed along the same lines as giving, both being kinds of transfer of possession; according to the other, dispossession is construed as movement in space, as with English “take”. Thus Janda (1998) shows how there is variation within Slavic in how dispossession is construed; in South and West Slavic, it is construed like “give”, but in East Slavic it is construed as “take”. She also shows how this split correlates with the two different models for construing possession – either as a possessive relationship (‘have’) or as locative existence (‘be at’).

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

.... Mental clauses. Mental clauses are clauses of ‘sensing’ – seeing, thinking, wanting, feeling and the like. Prototypically a process of sensing is inert, has no sharp temporal boundaries and has a “flat” or uniform profile of unfolding through time with no distinct phases. (Grammars tend to make a distinction between sensing construed in this way as inert, and sensing construed as an activity. The latter may be part of a distinct, minor process type – behavioural processes.) There is one central participant, the Senser. This participant is much more constrained than the Actor of a ‘material’ clause; while the Actor may be restricted to potency or even animacy, the Senser is restricted to consciousness. The nominal group realizing the Senser has to denote a being construed as being endowed with consciousness. This is true of all the languages discussed in this book. A special case of this constraint is the situation where the Senser is even lexically constrained to be realized by a nominal group denoting some special body part such as the heart, the liver or the stomach standing for the conscious being. This happens particularly in ‘mental’ clauses of the ‘emotive’ kind. In English there are special idiomatic expressions such as break sb’s heart ‘sadden’, turn sb’s stomach ‘disgust’, blow sb’s mind ‘amaze’, which pattern like non-idiomatic ‘mental’ clauses (cf. it broke my heart that he had to be fired: it saddened me that he had to be fired); but in other languages this may be the normal representation of emotion. Thus in Akan (Niger-Congo: Kwa), the Senser of an ‘emotive’ clause is realized by a nominal group denoting a possessed body part (aní ‘eyes’, wer7 ‘heart or breast as the seat of affections; spirit, feeling’, bf ‘chest’, ho‘side’) together with a Process realized by a verb that seems to derive from the ‘material’ domain of transitivity (e.g. tf ‘fall’, gow ‘soften’, gyina ‘come to a standstill): fsebf ani leopard eyes Senser “Leopard was very happy.”

gye7 rejoice (get, receive) Process

Similarly, Payne (1997: 60) notes: “in many Papuan languages, the center of thinking and feeling is the liver. Therefore, expressions of emotion and cognition are compounds based on the root for ‘liver’.” And he also gives an example from Kom (Niger-Congo: Bantu). In addition to the Senser, there may be a second participant, the Phenomenon, as in the following Vietnamese example, taken from Thai (this volume): Co ay yeu she love Senser Process “She loves me.”

toi I Phenomenon

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Here the Phenomenon denotes an ordinary entity and is realized by a nominal group with a pronominal Head (toi ‘I’); but mental clauses typically allow for a wider range of phenomena to be construed as the Phenomenon of sensing (thus construing the Phenomenon of a ‘mental’ clause as much less constrained than the Goal or Scope of a ‘material’ clause), including not only ordinary entities denoted by nominal groups but also acts (macro-phenomenal) and facts (metaphenomenal) denoted by clauses, as in Japanese, where acts are marked by no and facts by koto (see Teruya, this volume). If the grammar of a language makes a distinction between non-finite and finite clauses, then act-clauses are likely to be non-finite whereas fact-clauses are likely to be finite (at least when they represent propositions). Alternatively, instead of being configured with the Phenomenon as a second participant, the ‘mental’ clause may project a separate clause as the content of sensing. This clause denotes a projected idea rather than an assumed fact. The idea is projected into existence by the process of sensing; the fact already exists and gives rise to the process of sensing. The nature of this projected idea will depend on the type of sensing. Thus ‘cognitive’ mental clauses project propositions, which tend to be realized by finite clauses, and ‘desiderative’ mental clauses project proposals, which tend to be realized by non-finite clauses or finite clauses that are either modulated (as in English) or in a bound mood such as the subjunctive (as in Arabic, Fula, Pawnee, French, German and Greek). Projected proposals may be modalized as doubtful or hypothetical and this modalization may be marked by a bound mood such as the subjunctive (as in French, German and Greek). While many languages seem to make a distinction between acts on the one hand and facts or ideas on the other, Akan seems to realize acts in perceptive clauses in the same way as facts or ideas by means of a finite clause: Yaw p7 s7 Senser Process Y. wants that “Yaw wants me to go to Kumase.’ Kofi

huu

Senser Process Kofi saw “Kofi saw Yaw arrive. ”

menkf Process I:go

Kumase Scope Kumase

s7

Yaw

reba Process

Phenomenon that

Yaw

arrive

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Kofi

huu

s7

Senser Process Phenomenon Kofi saw that “Kofi saw that Yaw had arrived. ”

Yaw

aba Process

Yaw

arrive

In Yimas (Papuan; Lower Sepik), the idea clause is “juxtaposed” to the ‘mental’ clause, the two being “linked together as equals”, according to Foley (1991: 397); and, interestingly, the pronominal prefix on the verb serving as the Process in the ‘mental’ clause is the same as the one used in ‘verbal’ clauses, viz. the prefix pia-, which means ‘talk’. Foley (op cit.) comments: “thought is treated as language. Thinking is conceived by the Yimas as simply internal talking” (cf. Prakasam’s note, this volume, on the Telugu verb anukonu ‘to think’ – literally, ‘to say to self ’). The prefix pia- can perhaps be interpreted as marking the Phenomenon of the ‘mental’ clause; for example (my ad hoc analysis of Foley’s example (7.53a)): piakakacapal patn Phenom: Senser: Process: betelnut talk 1sg forget class V sg Process: mental Goal “I forgot that you got betelnut.”

nanwu -t Goal: class Actor: Process: Aspect: V sg 2sg get perf Process: material

Many languages offer two models for construing sensing. According to one model, the “like type”, the Senser is inertly involved in the process of sensing and this process of consciousness may range over some phenomenal domain, as in James fears Virginia. According to the other model, the “please type”, a phenomenon of experience impacts the Senser’s consciousness, thus bringing about the process of sensing, as in Virginia scares James. At first these two models might seem to be contradictory; but they turn out to be complementary in the sense that they bring out different aspects of the very complex experiential domain of consciousness. The two models complement one another to engender reversal pairs such as fear: frighten, scare; like: please; grieve: sadden in English and also in e.g. German (Steiner & Teich, this volume), French (Caffarel, this volume), Akan (Matthiessen 1987) and Japanese (Teruya, this volume). Such reversal pairs seem to be particularly common with the ‘emotive’ type of ‘mental’ clauses. This does not mean that all languages operate with such reversal pairs; Halliday & McDonald (this volume) note that they are not a feature of the mental grammar of Chinese in general since ‘mental’ clauses are construed on the model of the “like type” and the “please type” only occurs in ‘emotive’ (“affective ”) clauses. The existence of complementary models of sensing is also reflected in the patterns of case marking in ‘mental’ clauses. In terms of case marking, ‘mental’ clauses seem to be more diverse than ‘material’ ones in patterning, perhaps re-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

flecting the difficulty in construing the identity of the “source” of processes of consciousness (see Table 10.12 above). Moving around languages we find that either the Senser or the Phenomenon may be realized by a nominal group in the nominative case; and other cases marking the Senser include a dative, oblique or accusative case (cf. Section 10.3.2.2.1 above on the affective case in North-East Caucasian languages), whereas other cases marking the Phenomenon include an accusative or locative case (such as the elative or illative in Finish) or the genitive in Rose’s example (33) of Pitjantjatjara. As noted above, this reflects the fact that the nature of the interaction between Senser and Phenomenon is construed as very different from that between Actor and Goal. For example, Givón (1982: 101) notes that in Sherpa (Sino-Tibetan) Sensers (“dative-experiencer subjects”) are marked in the dative, contrasting with Actors (“agent subjects”): ‘mental’ – [Senser:] ti (the) mi-ti-la (man-DEF-DAT) [Phenomenon:] cenyi (cup) [Process:] go-sung (want-PERF); ‘material’ – [Actor:] ti (the) mi-ti-gi (man-DEF-ERG) [Goal:] cenyi (cup) [Process:] caaq-sung (break-PERF). We also find Sensers realized by nominal groups in the dative case in some languages discussed in this book – German (as in [Phenomenon:] es (it:NOM) [Process:] graut (scare-3SG:PRES) [Senser:] mir (me:DAT) – ‘it scares me’) and Telugu (as in Prakasam’s example (94iii) in this volume). But it is really the combination of the marking of Senser + Phenomenon that differentiates ‘mental’ clauses from ‘material’ ones as far as realization by case marking is concerned. Thus in Samoan (Austronesian), ‘mental’ clauses may be modelled as a non-ergative clause type, thus contrasting with the ‘material’ model, which is ergative – examples from Hopper & Thompson (1980: Section 2.7.3): (i) ‘mental’: Na va’ai le tense see the Process Senser “The boy saw the girl.”

tama boy

(ii) ‘material’: Na fasi e le tense hit ergative the Process Actor “The boy hit the girl.”

i le oblique the Phenomenon

tama boy

le the Goal

teine girl

teine girl

While all languages discussed in this book have a distinct category of ‘mental’ processes, they vary in how they sort out this domain of experience into more delicate subtypes type of sensing: for instance, in English ‘perceptive’ and ‘emotive’ (which can be grouped as “lower” forms of consciousness) and ‘cognitive’ and ‘desiderative’ (which can be grouped together as “higher”) (Matthiessen 1995a: 263–269); in Chinese, ‘perceptive’ / ‘cognitive’ / ‘desiderative’ / ‘emotive’

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

(“affective”; Halliday & McDonald, this volume, where ‘emotive’ is called ‘affective’); in Tagalog, ‘reacting’ / ‘exploring’ with ‘desire’ interpreted as a distinct process type (see Martin 1996a and this volume); in Japanese, ‘projecting’ [‘cognitive’ / ‘intentional’ / ‘desiderative’] / ‘non-projecting’ [‘perceptive’ / ‘emotive’] (see Teruya 1998 and this volume); and in Pitjantjatjara, ‘perceptive’ / ‘reactive’ [‘affective’ / ‘cognitive’ & ‘induced’ / ‘non-induced’] (where the category ‘perceptive’ includes both “internal perception” – e.g). “thinking, considering or understanding” – and “external perception” – e.g). “hearing and seeing”; see Rose 1998: 312–316). The differences are shown systemically for English, Tagalog and Japanese in Figure 10.5 on page 597. Among other things, the figure shows that while all three languages have a category of ‘cognitive’ clauses, the systemic valeur differs from one language to another.

.... Relational clauses. Relational clauses19 are clauses of ‘being-&-having’ – being a member of a class, being identical with. They are characteristic of descriptive passages in discourse and are common in expository discourse such as taxonomizing reports. Like a process of sensing, a process of being is prototypically inert, has no sharp temporal boundaries and has a “flat” or uniform profile of unfolding through time with no distinct temporal phases. There are typically two central participants construed as entering into the relationship of being: “Be-er 1 + Process: be + Be-er 2”.20 At least in the unmarked type of ‘relational’ clause, the Process is typically unaccented, short (often monosyllabic), often phonologically reduced, and even often cliticized to another element of the clause in certain unmarked systemic environments (as in English, and in Tswana – Creissels 2000: 255). It is sometimes formally recognizable as a copula with a defective verbal paradigm or as an item deriving via topicalization from a pronoun (see Li & Thompson 1977, who cite the copula shì in Chinese as an example: in Archaic Chinese, it was a demonstrative). The limiting case of this tendency is the total structural absence of the Process, typically in unmarked systemic environments: the relationship is realized simply by the configuration of “Be-er 1 + Be-er 2”.21 Thus in the following example from Arabic, a relationship of identity is construed between ‘axu: ’umara and ‘ajhalu waladin fi-l-madrasati without the structural presence of a verbal Process element:

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

In grammars of Arabic (and those of other languages as well) such clauses are often called “nominal clauses” and are contrasted with “verbal clauses”. However, this line of interpretation gives prominence to criteria “from below” and fails to show that “nominal clauses” have closely related verbal agnates. For example, whenever the clause is marked in terms of tense/aspect and/or polarity, an Arabic relational clause will have an explicit Process realized by a verb such as ka:na ‘be’ and the negative laysa ‘be:not’. A similar situation seems to obtain in many languages, including e.g. Russian (Lockwood 2002: 131), Swahili (Givón 1982: 91), Telugu and other Dravidian languages (Prakasam, this volume), Russian, Hungarian, Burmese, Luiseño (Li & Thompson 1977: 436), Pitjantjatjara (Rose, this volume). As noted above, in many languages – perhaps all, the relationship construed between “Be-er 1” and “Be-er 2” is either one of identity or one of attribution. The distinction between these two modes of being may be realized in the selection of the verb serving as Process. Thus in Akan (Niger-Congo: Kwa ), the unmarked attributive verb is y7 whereas the unmarked identifying one is ne: no b7y7 Aduané Carrier Process “The food will be delicious. ” y¡7 Kwasí Carrier Process “Kwase is a teacher.”

d¡7 Attribute

tíkyà Attribute

me tíkyà ní Identifier Process “This is my teacher.” [ní = ne + yi] However, more commonly, the unmarked verb is the same in ‘attributive’ and ‘identifying’ clauses – be in English, sein in German, être in French, shì in Chinese, ka:na (if present) in Arabic, and so on; or if there is more than one unmarked verb with different temporal implications, they are used in both ‘attributive’ and ‘identifying’ clauses – ser/estar in Spanish, in Nepali , and so on. In a language such as English where specificity (“definiteness”) is always marked within nominal groups through the choice of determiner serving as Deictic, ‘attributive’ and ‘identifying’ clauses are typically formally distinct (the Attribute of an ‘attributive’ clause being ‘non-specific’ and the Identifier of an ‘identifying’ one being ‘specific’). However, it is more common for languages not to have an obligatory marking of specificity within the nominal group (cf. C. Lyons 1999). Chinese, Japanese and Vietnamese are examples of such languages. The descriptions of them presented in this book all recognize the contrast between ‘attributive’ and ‘identifying’ clauses; but there are clearly issues of interpretation to be explored – see e.g. Teruya (1998: 300–302; 333–338) on Japanese. Tagalog is like Japanese in not obligatorily

Descriptive motifs and generalizations  *=> provoke Process: -in-

Tagalog:

probe (cognition) Process: maka <senser-focus> Process: ma-...-an

*=> senser-focus Senser: ang Phenomenon: ng <provoke / perceive/ probe> Phenomenon: sa Phenomenon ang; Senser: ng phenomenon-focus

Japanese

î

ê ê

í

î English

î

mental

ê

í

+Senser; Senser: nom. gp., conscious

ê

î

ê projecting í ê î î

cognitive

feeling

intentional desiderative

reaction *=> fact

í î

perceptive emotive

non- *=> í projecting î

î

hyperí phenomenalî

phenomenalized

as quality as process

*=> act impinging different systemic locations of ‘cognitive’ created (valeur) in Tagalog, Japanese & English

í î

phenomenal non-phenomenalized î higher í î î lower í î

cognitive

í î

desiderative perceptive

idea bounded

emanating (‘like’ type) impinging (‘please’ type) specified unspecified

fact

+Phenomenon; Phen.: nom. gp., fact-qualifier

emotive macro î

î

mental

perceive Process: maka <senser-focus> Process: ma

exploring

î

ê

î

react Process: ma <senser-focus> Process: ika / ka-...-an

î

ê

mental í +Senser; Senser: nom. gp., conscious

responding (reaction)

î

î

î

í î

hyper í î phenomenal +Phenomenon; Phen.: nom. gp.

+Phenomenon; Phen.: nom. gp., act-qualifier

Phen.: [bound clause: perfective]

unbounded Phen.: [bound clause: imperfective]

meta

+Phenomenon; Phen.: nom. gp., fact-qualifier

Figure 10.5 Comparison of ‘mental’ clauses in English (Matthiessen 1995a), Tagalog (adapted from Martin 1996a) and Japanese (Teruya 1998)

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

marking nominal groups for specificity; but ‘attributive’ and ‘identifying’ clauses have distinct textual patterns (see Martin 1996a: 276, 278; this volume): titser ang babae ‘the woman is a teacher’ vs. (ii) ‘identifying’ ang titser ang babae ‘the woman is the teacher’. In English, the systemic contrast between ‘attributive’ and ‘identifying’ clauses intersects freely with the systemic contrast among types of relation – ‘intensive’, ‘possessive’ and ‘circumstantial’; but languages clearly vary in how these two systems interact. For example, in Chinese, the ‘attributive’ / ‘identifying’ system operates within ‘intensive’ clauses but not within the other types of relation (Halliday & McDonald, this volume). Relational clauses tend to embody a similar range of relationships to the range we find in the patterns of modification within the nominal group and one point of typological variation is precisely the division of labour between the relational clause and the nominal group in the assignment of properties to a thing. For example, Halliday & McDonald (this volume) note that Chinese favours the clausal Carrier + Attribute pattern even where English would have nominal Thing + Epithet pattern (cf. Section 10.2.2.3 above on the division of labour between clauses and nominal groups). The possessive type of relational clause is often related to locative circumstantial relational clauses (cf. ‘with you + matches’ below). It may also be related to existentials; thus one common way of expressing possession in Japanese is with the possessor as Theme and the possessed as Existent (see Teruya, this volume). In Chinese, the verb you translates as both ‘have’ and ‘exist’. Possession is simply existence with respect to a participant (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume). And in Tagalog, possession may be construed either existentially or circumstantially (see Martin, this volume). Similarly, in Arabic, the common possessive clause consists of possessed, marked by a preposition, + possessor, as in (Cowan 1958: 52): hal interrog. Negotiator

ma’aka with you:sing:masc

Possessor “Have you matches? ”

kibri:t un matches indef:nom Possessed

There is thus variation across languages in the construal of possession; and as Prakasam (this volume) shows for Telugu, different strategies are available for different kinds of possession. For Slavic languages, Janda (1998) relates the variation in the construal of possession to variation in the construal of dispossession within the material grammar (see the end of Section 10.2.2.2.2 above). Another interesting area of variation is the construal of physiological state (cf. Halliday’s 1998, discussion of the grammar of pain; and cf. also Prakasam’s dis-

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

cussion of the Telugu construal of ailment in this volume). Models include the intensive one (Carrier + Process: be + Attribute: physiological quality) and the possessive one (Carrier + Process: have + Attribute: physiological abstraction), as in English I’m thirsty vs. French J’ai soif and German Ich habe Durst. But there are also other models, including one where the physiological experience is construed as the Process, as in German es hungert mich. (As Halliday 1998, shows, textual considerations are important here: there is a general tendency to favour configurations that make it possible for the element denoting the whole being to serve as Theme.) As already noted, ‘relational’ clauses may be structurally distinct from clauses of other process types with respect to the form of the Process: it is often phonologically short and non-salient – and absent from the structure in the limiting case. The verb realizing the Process may belong to a formally distinct class of verb, as in Akan, where verbs in ‘relational’ and certain ‘mental’ clauses are stative – phonologically low tone, as with y¡7 “be” and nìm “know”, contrasting with verbs in ‘material’ and ‘verbal’ clauses – phonologically high tone, as with bú “break” and bisá “break”. However, there are also various other realizational properties that may characterize participants relational clauses. These include “case marking”, “concord” and determination. (i) If a language has a case marking system distinguishing between a nominative case and an oblique or set of oblique cases, then it is very likely that both relational participants will be in the nominative case in ‘intensive’ relational clauses, at least in the unmarked case (as in e.g. Latin, Arabic and Korean) or that the second one, “Be-er 2” (i.e. the Attribute or the Value in an ‘operative’ clause), lacks case-marking altogether (as in Japanese – see Teruya, this volume; and as in attributive clauses in Tagalog – see Martin, this volume, Example (33)). In other words, the case-marking pattern is quite distinct from that of a ‘material’ Actor + Goal clause. The second participant in a ‘relational’ clause is not marked and in no way impacted. (ii) When both participants in a ‘relational’ clause appear in the same case, this can be interpreted as concord (see Blake 1994: 94–97) within the clause just as there may be concord in case marking within a nominal group – a sign of the agnation between the ‘relational’ clause and the nominal group. Concord may also involve number and/or gender, as in e.g. Swedish (though not in German), Latin, Spanish, French and Turkic and Mongolian languages (e.g. Azerbaydzhan (Turkic): siz ham-GnGz gatil siniz “you all 2pl murderer-pl” – “you are all murderers; Comrie 1981b: 76). (iii) In attributive clauses, the Attribute may, as already noted, occur without case marking. In addition, languages that obligatorily indicate whether nominal groups are “definite” or “indefinite”, the nominal group realizing the Attribute may

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

lack the indefinite marker, thus indicating that it denotes a general class rather than a specific or arbitrary member of that class. This happens (under certain conditions) in e.g. French and Swedish, but not of course in English. Thus the Swedish equivalent of the English attributive clause she’s a doctor is hon är läkare “she is doctor”.

.... Other process types; verbal clauses. The three process types discusses above – ‘material’, ‘mental’, and ‘relational’ – are the basic prototypes. Like all categories in language, they have fuzzy boundaries and shade into one another. For example, as we have seen, emotion is an experientially complex phenomenon: it may be construed as a process, either on the model of the “like type” or on the model of the “please type” within a ‘mental’ clause; but it may also be construed as quality within an ‘ascriptive relational’ clause, as in Japanese (see Teruya, this volume) and in English (e.g. fear: be afraid, frighten: be frightening; like: be fond of; rejoice: be happy). Other examples of such motifs of experientially complex domains that may be construed on the model of one process type or another include perception (cf. Viberg 1984), pain (cf. Halliday 1998), meteorological and other natural, ambient processes, and emergence of qualities (modelled either as happening or as coming into being). However, in addition to such borderline areas that lie between the major process types but which are modelled on one type or another, there are some process types that are more variable across languages: behavioural, verbal, existential, and possibly also possessive processes. These can be seen typologically as “swing categories”. For example, existence may be construed as a separate process type (as in English, French and German, for example; cf. Matthiessen 2001, on differences between English and German) or it may be construed as a subtype of ‘relational’ clauses (as in Chinese, see Halliday & McDonald, this volume); and possession may be construed as a distinct subtype of ‘relational’ clauses or it may be more closely aligned with existential/locative clauses (cf. Allen 1964; Lyons 1968; Givón 1982: 103–105). ‘Existential’ clauses may include both “ontological” existence and spatial existence. Thus Telugu has both ‘absolutive’ existential clauses and ‘locative’ ones (Prakasam, this volume). In English, the same basic structure there be can be used for both; but in German they are more distinct, covered by different constructions such as es gibt and sich befinden. Like ‘relational’ clauses, ‘existential’ ones may be realized structurally without a Process element. I will discuss the case of ‘verbal’ clauses in some more detail. ‘Verbal’ clauses constitute a distinct process type in English and also in many other languages. They share with ‘mental’ clauses the property of being able to project another clause (or complex of clauses) representing the “content” of saying as reported or quoted speech (just as ‘mental’ clauses can project another clause as the “content” of sensing). And just as the Senser of a ‘mental’ clause is highly

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

constrained, the Sayer of a ‘verbal’ clause is fairly restricted with respect to the range of phenomena denoted by nominal groups realizing this participant role. Thus in German (Steiner & Teich, this volume), in Japanese (Teruya, this volume) and in Pitjantjatjara (Rose, this volume), the Sayer role tends to be realized by nominal groups denoting human speakers (although mythical non-human beings are no problem!). In English, the Sayer role is more extended, including not only human speakers but also symbol sources of other kinds such as documents and instruments of measurement; but in comparison with the Actor role it is still quite constrained. Teruya (this volume: endnote 9) points out that the extended Sayers of English correspond to roles in clauses of other process types in Japanese: for example, a circumstance of Angle in a ‘relational’ clause. ‘Verbal’ clauses tend to differ from ‘mental’ ones in that they more frequently project a quote rather than a report (as in the case of ‘mental’ clauses, although the extent to which languages draw sharp line between quoting and reporting is variable (see Teruya 1998, for a detailed discussion of Japanese). They also differ in that unlike ‘mental’ clauses they can be configured with a beneficiary-like participant, the Receiver (although languages may vary in this respect: cf. the discussion of Trique in Section 10.2.1 above). Thus if we look at ‘verbal’ clauses “from above”, from the point of view of the kind of work they do in terms of the discourse semantics, we see that they constitute (among other things) a central grammatical strategy for construing quotes and reports (i.e. projections) in narratives, news reports, scientific reports, and other text types. Examples of languages with ‘verbal’ clauses doing this kind of work that have been described systemic functionally include Chinese (Halliday & McDonald, this volume), Finnish (Shore 1992: 159–166), German (Steiner & Teich, this volume), French (Caffarel 1996, this volume), Japanese (Teruya 1998, this volume), Vietnamese (Thai 1998, this volume), Gooniyandi (McGregor 1990: 414–420), Akan (Matthiessen 1987) and Pitjantjatjara (Rose 1998: 391, 393–394; this volume). However, some languages deploy another ideational model to construe speech as reported or quoted. This model appears to be experiential rather than logical; it involves an experiential configuration rather than a logical sequence. In these languages the resources of ‘identifying relational’ clauses are used instead of those of ‘verbal’ clauses: the projected clause (complex) is construed as a Token and its verbal status is construed as a Value. Thus in Tagalog (Austronesian), Martin (1988: 287) notes, verbal clauses that quote “typically appear in identifying structures”, as in the following example: “Huwag um- uwi,” ang sigaw niya sa kaniya- ng boyfriend don’t go home TOP. shout her CIRC. her LINKER boyfriend Token [projected] Value [projecting] ““Don’t go home” (was what) she shouted to her boyfriend.”

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Similarly, the example Munro (1982: 313) gives of Chamorro (Austronesian) suggests an identifying relational strategy: Ilek- ña “Pues maolik.” say his then good Value Token “He said, “Then it is good”. ” This might be glossed by means of an ‘identifying’ clause: “His saying was “it is good””. Such examples point to the connection between projection and elaboration (cf. Matthiessen 1991): the projecting is construed as the Value in the identity and the projected as the Token; that is, the projecting is the “signified” and the projected is the “signifier”. But there are other strategies as well – strategies that fall within the interpersonal metafunction – and I will return to projection in Section 10.6 below.

... Model of participation: Transitive/ergative As we have seen, the grammar of transitivity of a language sorts human experience of flux into a small number of process types. Each type constitutes, among other things, a model of how the participants specific to that type are involved in the process. For example, Actor and Goal are involved in a very different way from Carrier and Attribute, which (as noted above) will be reflected in differences in case marking in a language with a case marking system. However, at the same time, it is likely that the transitivity system of a language will also embody a very general model of process-participant interaction – a model that generalizes across the process types. In the accounts presented in this book, two such models are used to interpret the transitivity systems of the languages. These models are the transitive model and the ergative model (see Halliday 1967/1968, 1994; and see Halliday 1956, for the ergative interpretation of Chinese). In addition, Martin (1996a, this volume) interprets Tagalog transitivity in terms of a model based on nuclearity (centripetal vs. centrifugal). Let’s consider the transitive and ergative models. It’s important to note that these are ideational models of patterns in the transitivity system of the clause in the first instance; they are not just (lower-ranking) case marking patterns. Case marking is a realizational strategy that may be deployed not only ideationally but also interpersonally or textually, as shown in Section 10.2.2.5 above.22 The transitive model is familiar from traditional grammar. According to this model, a participant controls the unfolding of the process; we might call this participant the Controller. This unfolding may extend beyond the participant + process combination to impact another participant; we might call this participant the Impacted. The basic systemic contrast is between ‘intransitive’ clauses (Controller + Process) and ‘transitive’ ones (Controller + Process + Impacted).

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

In English, the clearest example of this model of Controller + Process (+ Impacted) is the ‘material’ clause, where Controller is “manifested” as Actor and Impacted as Goal, as in ‘intransitive’: [Controller/Actor:] I[Process:] must clean: ‘transitive’: [Controller/Actor:] I[Process:] must clean [Impacted/Goal:] the house. The sense of the second participant being impacted is brought out by textual variants where the Impacted is marked by to or with: What I must do with the house is clean it. ‘Behavioural’, ‘mental’, ‘verbal’ and ‘existential’ clauses would appear to be largely ‘intransitive’, with Controller/Behaver, Controller/Senser, Controller/Sayer. They are thus systemically lower in transitivity than ‘material’ clauses in terms of Hopper & Thompson’s (1980) transitivity hypothesis. When there is a second participant, it cannot be interpreted as Impacted; for example, it cannot be marked by to or with (we can’t say what she did with / to the music was like it; what she did to / with a story was tell it). There would appear to be two possible exceptions – ‘verbal’ clauses with a Target ([Controller/Sayer:] they [Process:] praised [Impacted/Target:] him [Cause:] for the party’s victory; cf. what they did to him was praise him for the party’s victory) and ‘mental’ clauses of the “please” type ([Controller/Phenomenon:] he[Process:] scared [Impacted/Senser:] me (out of my mind); cf. what he did to me was scare me). The ‘mental’ case is puzzling since there does not appear to be a relation between the ‘intransitive’ and the ‘transitive’ variants according to the transitive model (‘intransitive’: [Controller/Senser:] I[Process:] fear [Phenomenon:] him; ‘transitive’: [Controller/Phenomenon:] he[Process:] scares [Impacted/Senser:] me).23 This mystery can only be solved by reference to the ergative model (see Halliday 1994: Section 5.8). ‘Relational’ clauses are also somewhat puzzling. While there appear to be ‘intransitive’ / ‘transitive’ pairs such as [Controller/Carrier:] she [Process:] was [Attribute:] rich and [Controller/Attributor:] her aunt [Process:] made [Impacted/Carrier:] her [Attribute:] rich, the identity of the Controller is not the same in the ‘intransitive’ and ‘transitive’ variants, so just as with ‘mental’ clauses, there is no clear sense of “extending to impact”. Again this can only be explained by reference to the ergative model. So it would appear that the transitive model has limited power of generalization in English: it cannot account for second participants that serve as Range (cf. below) and imposes a puzzling pattern of agnation on ‘mental’ and ‘relational’ clauses – a pattern where the identity of the Controller is different in the ‘intransitive’ and ‘transitive’ variants of the clause. What’s the situation in other languages? In the typological literature on “case marking”, the transitive model would appear to correspond to the “nominative-accusative” type of case marking system (although, as already noted, we have to keep in mind that case marking can be sensitive to all the three metafunctions). Thus the pattern would be Controller:

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

nominative + Process (+ Impacted: accusative) in a clause unmarked in terms of voice. If a ‘transitive’ clause is less transitive than a prototypically transitive clause, the Controller is less in control and the Impacted is less affected, and this may be reflected in case marking; such differences can be explained in terms of the transitive model. For example, in Hungarian the Goal seems to be marked in the accusative if it is affected and in the dative if it is less affected (example quoted from Palmer 1994: 34): meg-segit valaki-t perf-helps somebody-acc Process Goal “he helps somebody” meg-segit valaki-nek helps somebody-dat Process Goal “he helps somebody” However, as we have seen (cf. Table 10.12 above), clauses of other process types often operate with patterns of case marking that are different from the “nominativeaccusative” pattern of ‘material’ clauses; for example, in ‘mental’ clauses it may be Senser: dative + Phenomenon: nominative; in ‘relational’ clauses it may be Carrier: nominative + Attribute: nominative. In languages with such patterns, it would seem that the transitive model does not generalize in a comprehensive way across the process types. It is very hard to know based on accounts of case marking in the typological literature since there is a very clear bias towards examples that would seem to be ‘material’ clauses. According to the ergative model the process unfolds through one participant, the Medium.24 This participant is the “medium” of actualization of the process and together the Medium + Process configuration represent the nuclear domain of the process/participant complementarity discussed earlier. This actualization of the process through the Medium may be caused by another participant, the Agent. The Agent is external to the Medium + Process nucleus. The basic systemic contrast is between ‘middle’ clauses (Medium + Process) and ‘effective’ ones (Agent + Medium + Process). The English transitivity system is likely always to have been a mixture of the transitive and ergative models (see further below on mixed systems); but the dominance of the ergative model has increased over the last 500 years or so as part of the syndrome of changes in Modern English referred to by Halliday (1993: 18–19). One of the reflexes is that verbs increasingly pattern ergatively (like break) rather than transitively (like hunt).25 Thus like a great many verbs in Modern English, the

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

verb form can be used in both ‘middle’ and ‘effective’ clauses, as is illustrated by the following pair of examples taken from a university text book in geology: Coal is formed by the accumulation of plant material Medium Process Agent nominal group verbal group: passive prepositional phrase During the last stages potassium and magnesium salts form of precipitation, Location Medium Process prepositional phrase nominal group verbal group Note that these clauses are ‘material’ – the favoured domain of the traditional transitive model. Here we can account for many clauses that do not pattern transitively as Actor + Process ± Goal (as in George hunted: George hunted deer) but rather ergatively as Medium + Process ± Agent (as in coal formed: the accumulation of plant material formed coal. But the ergative model also makes it possible to understand the puzzling ‘mental’ and ‘relational’ cases referred to above. In ‘mental’ clauses, the Senser is the Medium but the ergative role of the Phenomenon is variable; it is either Agent in an ‘effective’ clause (as in The music pleased him) or Range in a ‘middle’ clause (as in He liked the music). This is in fact the principle behind the reversal pairs found in many languages with ‘mental’ clauses (see above). In ‘relational’ clauses (of the ‘ascriptive’ type), the Carrier is the Medium (as in ‘middle’: she was rich) and in an ‘effective’ clause there is an additional participant, the Agent/Attributor (as in her aunt made her rich). The ergative model thus clearly generalizes across the process types in English; and it helps explain agnation patterns across process types (such as ‘mental’ / ‘relational’: he rejoiced / he was happy; and ‘material’ / ‘relational’: the fruit ripened, the sun ripened the fruit / the fruit was (became) ripe (see Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: 159–165). Several of the accounts in this book refer to the ergative model, showing how it operates in the transitivity system in question. The model operates in the systems of German, French, Chinese, Japanese and Vietnamese as well as in English. There are various differences across these languages. For example, in both German and French, the contrast between ‘middle’ and ‘effective’ is realized by (what look like) “reflexive” forms of the verb in the ‘middle’, as in sich öffnen: öffnen (German) and s’ouvrir: ouvrir (French); but in English, the form of the verb is typically the same in both ‘middle’ and ‘effective’ clauses, as with open, and in Japanese, there are a number of morphologically related verbs that pattern ergatively (e.g. tatsu [‘middle’]: tateru [‘effective’], ‘build’; tokeru: tokasu, ‘dissolve’; kowareru: kowasu, ‘break’; kireru: kiru, ‘cut’). The domain of generalization across process types of the ergative model seems to be variable. Rose (1998: 368–370, this volume) suggests that the ergative model does not operate in Pitjantjatjara with the exception of “additional

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen wac—

-as—

brother ERGATIVE

šiša

b

-ekana

bottle ABSOLUTIVE CLASS III broke

šiša

b

‘the brother broke the bottle’

-ekana

bottle ABSOLUTIVE CLASS III broke

‘the bottle broke’

Figure 10.6 Avar ‘middle’ and ‘effective’ pair

agents in caused reactions and relations” (1998: 368). In Akan, there is evidence for the ergative model, but its domain seems fairly limited; the clearest manifestation of the ergative model is in the area of ‘emotive mental’ clauses, in the formal of reversal pairs such as [Senser/Medium:] me bo [Process:] afu [Phenomenon/Range:] no ‘I’m angry with him’ and [Process:] ffu [Senser/Medium:] me bo ‘he annoys me’ (where the Phenomenon/Agent is indicated by the pronominal prefix f-). Emotion is of course a realm of experience where the transitive model typically does not operate in any case. In typological studies of “case marking”, the ergative model would appear to correspond to the “ergative-absolutive” type of case marking system (although as noted already, case marking can be sensitive to all the three metafunctions). Thus the pattern would be Agent: ergative + Process + Medium: absolutive in a clause unmarked in terms of voice, as in the example from Avar (Caucasian) shown in Figure 10.6, taken from Comrie (1981a: 223). None of the languages described in this book have such an ergative-absolutive case marking system. For example, while the English translation equivalents of the Avar ‘middle’ and ‘effective’ pair also pattern ergatively – the bottle broke: the brother broke the bottle – rather than transitively, there is no overt ergative-absolutive marking. The ergative patterning in English is more covert. The residue of English case marking that still exists in the pronominal system (e.g. I : me; she: her; who: whom) is nominative-accusative rather than ergative-absolutive; but it is under interpersonal rather than experiential control. That is, it realizes the interpersonal contrast between a Subject in a ‘finite’ clause – a Subject that combines with Finite as the arguable element of a proposition – and the rest (non-finite Subjects and Complements); it does not realize the experiential configuration of Controller + Impacted. Compare she left him: with her leaving him. This is why it is very important to distinguish between experiential transitivity models (transitive versus ergative) and the realizational resource of case marking systems – which is available to all metafunctions.

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

The transitive and ergative transitivity models appear to be contradictory “components” of a transitivity model: either one or the other operates within the transitivity system of a language or at least within a subsystem. And this is what split case marking systems appear to be like: they are described as ergativeabsolutive in perfective clauses and nominative-accusative elsewhere (cf. Hindi (Indo-European: Indo-Iranian) and a number of other languages in the region), or as ergative-absolutive in ‘material’ clauses but nominative-accusative in ‘mental’ ones (cf. example from Samoan above), etc. However, Halliday (1987; 1994) has emphasized that the transitivity models are not components of the transitivity system but rather perspectives on their organization. This means that any clause can be viewed transitively and ergatively; the critical question is which perspective has more power to generalize in any given instance. Halliday has also hypothesized that all languages embody both perspectives: “With regard to (at least) the ‘outer’ processes, natural languages incorporate two models: the transitive, which interprets ‘mechanically’, in terms of transmission, and the ergative, which interprets ‘scientifically’, in terms of causation. These two models are complementary; the generalizations they make contradict each other, but every clause has to be interpreted as both.” (By “outer processes”, Halliday means “those of the world perceived as external” – processes of doing.) Under this interpretation, a split in a case marking system means that either the transitive model or the ergative one is foregrounded in terms of overt marking within some domain; but it does not mean that the model that is not foregrounded by overt marking is not operative – it will most likely still be: we have to examine covert patterns and reactances as well. Thus the fact that ergative-absolutive case marking systems appear to be more restricted in their distribution around the languages of the world than nominative-accusative systems (Nichols 1992: 189–190) does not mean that the same is true of the ergative model of transitivity.

... circumstantiation The system of process type and systems such as agency that deal with the model of participation are concerned with the process and participants directly involved in the process. As we have already seen (Section 10.3.1), languages vary with respect to how extended this configuration of process + participants can be, depending on what their clause grammars construe experientially as a quantum of change and what they construe logically as a sequence of quanta. Languages also vary with respect to how the configuration of process + participants is augmented circumstantially by elements of location in time and space, manner, cause and other circumstantial relations. There is a cline related to the rank scale.

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

–

–

–

–

At the top of the cline, a clause is augmented logically and externally at clause rank by another another clause within a clause complex, as in the example from Kalam in Section 10.3.1. At the next step on the cline, a clause is augmented logically and internally at clause rank through serialization of the verbal group realizing the Process, as in the examples from Akan in Section 10.3.1. Here “circumstances” are modelled as additional participants, each with its own part of the Process. This is common in the languages of South-East Asia, West Africa and Papua New Guinea. At the next step on the cline, a clause is augmented experientially and internally at clause rank through the addition of circumstantial elements to the configuration of process + participants. Here circumstances are modelled as indirect participants, each being marked by either an adposition (as in English, Chinese, Japanese) or a nominal case marker (as in Finnish) or a combination of the two (as in German, Russian). At the bottom of the cline, a clause is augmented circumstantially within the Process itself at word rank by circumstantial verbal affixes. This strategy is used in a number of languages from different families in North America, as with the “instrumental affixes” of Central Pomo (Northern California; Mithun, 1999: 118–126). The affixes refer to general categories, e.g. ‘with the hand’, ‘with the fingers’, ‘with a knife’. They might be lexicalized in a language like English, within the experiential elaboration of the taxonomy of process types (as happens with circumstances of means with respect to processes of motion: walk, drive, ride, fly, sail).

The line between participants and circumstances is always indeterminate. There may be special systems providing alternative assignments of participanthood and circumstancehood, as with so-called “applicative voice” in West Atlantic and Bantu languages in Africa, where there is an applicative form of the verb making it possible to represents certain types of circumstances as Complement (e.g. Creissels 2000: 236–237). For example, in Zulu, the “applied form” of the verb (with the suffix -ela) is used when elements of place and behalf (including negative behalf: detriment) are represented as participants, as in ukumthungela unina ingubo “to sew [for] her mother a dress” (cf. ukuthunga ingubo “to sew a dress”), bayangonela izincwadi “the are spoiling the books to my detriment” (Doke 1930: 140). Different languages draw the line between participants and circumstances in somewhat different places. It naturally relates to differences in how processes are modelled, as can be seen very clearly with e.g. processes of motion (cf. Talmy 1985). A place may be construed as a circumstance, as in he walked into the building, where the “path” is represented by a preposition, or as a participant, as in he entered the building, where the “path” is lexicalized as part of the verb; and different languages

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

may tend in one direction or another. The distinction between participants and circumstances will often be reflected in what range of elements in the transitivity structure of the clause can be elevated interpersonally as Subject or made textually prominent as Theme or Focus of New.

.. Experiential: Expansion of the basic system As noted above, the basic experiential system of the clause is the system of transitivity. Languages vary considerably in how they organize this system – most importantly, they vary in how they divide the labour between the clause complex and the clause (see Section 10.2.1 above); but the presence of such a system seems to be quite “stable” across languages. However, languages vary fundamentally in how they expand the basic system of transitivity by means of other ideational system in order to complement transitivity in the construal of a “quantum of change” in the flow of events. Examples of such systems are given in Table 10.13. Broadly speaking, these systems seem to be resources for construing the spatio-temporal “unfolding” of the process in a quantum of change. The systems of temporality (tense and aspect) are illustrated for languages described in this book (cf. the note on logical and experiential models of time in Section 10.3.1 above), as is the system of phase (Halliday & McDonald, this volume: Section 6.5.2.2). As Halliday & McDonald’s description of Chinese shows, the system of phase interfaces with both temporality and spatiality; and it is also concerned with qualitative outcome (which might be construed by a resultative Attribute in English). The system of spatiality is the spatial analogue of the systems of temporality: it construes the unfolding of a process through space. In languages that use logical complexes of verbs extensively (in “serial verb” constructions), there may be a system of phase that is concerned with the unfolding of the process through space, as with phased directional verbs in Chinese, Thai, Akan, certain Papuan languages (e.g. Dani & Barai; see Foley 1986: 149) and many other languages, where paths are construed by phased series of verbs of motion. Alternatively, spatiality may be construed within the verb itself by means of verbal affixes indicating Table 10.13 Systems expanding the basic system of transitivity temporality: tense temporality: aspect phase spatiality

present as grammatical system in: absent as grammatical system in: English, Russian, Greek Chinese Chinese, Russian, Greek

English

Chinese, Thai Quechua

English

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

direction or position, as in Quechua (Weber 1989), Jacaltec (Craig 1979), various other “Amerindian” languages, Tibeto-Burman languages (see e.g. T. Payne 1997: 248–), certain Papuan languages (e.g., Yimas; Foley 1986: 148–149; 1991). For example, in the Yimas example na-wi-impu-pu-t (3sg s-up-go by water-awayperf) means “he went upriver (away from speaker/village)”, whereas na-il-nkapra-t (3sg s-down-go by land-toward-perf) means “he came downhill (toward speaker/village)” (Foley 1986: 148).

. Interpersonal – enacting social roles & relations .. The basic system of mood & polarity Many languages – almost certainly all – have a grammatical system for enacting one quantum of exchange in the ongoing flow of dialogic interaction between speaker and listener as a proposition or a proposal where the speaker adopts a certain role and assigns a complementary role to the listener(s). This is the interpersonal system of mood. An essential feature of mood systems is that they enact a quantum of exchange as a combination of at least two systemic variables – the orientation of exchange (giving or receiving) and the nature of the commodity being exchanged (information or goods-&-services). In the life of a young child, the precursor of this is the exchange of attention between mother and child, which Catherine Bateson has described as proto-conversation. The ontogenesis of dialogue starts with protolanguage; but true dialogue only becomes possible with the transition into language and the emergence of the grammar of dialogue – the mood system (Halliday 1984). This system is built up first in the context of exchanging goods-&-services, with language as a resource for enabling the exchange of such non-linguistic commodities. It takes considerably longer for the concept of the other type of commodity, information, to develop, which is hardly surprising: unlike goods-&-services, information (or “knowledge”, to put it in cognitive terms) is a commodity that does not exist independently of language but which is instead constituted in language. The ontogenetic path for the young child is through the exchange of information that concerns shared experience – you tell people what they already know; and once this has been mastered, information can become an alternative to shared experience – it can concern vicarious experience. It seems very likely that the phylogenetic path towards the grammar of dialogue was very similar in broad outlines. In any event, one salient feature of both the ontogenetic process and the phylogenetic process is that while exchanges start with goods-&-services, it is the grammar of information that comes to dominate: as far as I can tell, within the mood system of every language, it is always the grammar

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

of information (statements and questions) that is more highly elaborated than the grammar of goods-&-services (commands and offers), as can be seen in the mood networks throughout this book. For example, Sadock & Zwicky (1985) note that the grammar of commands, the ‘imperative’ mood, is usually characterized by a smaller number of verbal affixes compared to the grammar of ‘indicative’ clauses and also by a suppression of Subject (though this is only a tendency: Halliday & McDonald, this volume, suggest that Subjects are quite possibly more likely to be specified in an ‘imperative’ clause in Chinese than in an ‘indicative’ one). Further, while languages grammaticalize commands as ‘imperative’ clauses, they do not appear to grammaticalize offers as a distinct mood type. That this should be so is not surprising: while goods-&-services can be exchanged without language, information can only be exchanged through language because information is constituted in language. In (adult) language it is the grammar of information rather than the grammar of goods-&-services that dominates, in terms of both systemic elaboration and relative frequency in text.

.. mood systems Systemically, all languages seem to differentiate mood categories like declarative, polar interrogative and imperative; this is certainly true of the small number of languages described in this book. The equivalent of wh-interrogative (or “elemental”) clauses is usually also found, and all the languages of this book have a distinct “wh-interrogative” category; but Sadock & Zwicky (1985: 184) note that a few languages (e.g., Hopi [Uto-Aztecan]) might lack this category and use non-specific declaratives or yes/no interrogatives instead (the connection between wh items and indefinites is also apparent in other languages, e.g. Chinese and Vietnamese: for Chinese, see Halliday & McDonald, this volume: Table 6.9). If we take these mood categories as a point of departure, we can identify two areas of systemic variation across languages; (i) the first is concerned with the stratal relation between mood (grammar) and speech function (semantics) and (ii) the other is the systemic organization of mood.

... speech function and mood Languages vary in how the major grammatical mood types construct the semantic space of speech functions. English grammar realizes the speech-functional variables of orientation (giving/demanding) and commodity (information/goods-&services). This is the general principle of organization in mood systems, but many languages also have congruent systems for enacting the tenor of the relationship between speaker and addressee in the exchange, discussed in terms of ‘politeness’, ‘formality’ and the like. Examples include Japanese (see Teruya, this volume), Ko-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

rean (e.g. S.E. Martin 1992) and Javanese (e.g. Errington 1988), where the whole system of mood is affected, and Chinese, German and French, where the domain of the system is that of (mood) person – the addressee, in particular. Not surprisingly, there is considerable variation in the value of the imperative mood type (see Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 170–171), since it is here that demands for goods-&-services are made on the addressee. Steiner & Teich (this volume) note the politeness contrast within German ‘imperative’ clauses. In many languages (perhaps all), such tenor distinctions are also realized through interpersonal metaphors, as they are in English (Give me: Could you give me: Could I have: I would like: I wonder if you could perhaps give me: I wonder if you would perhaps consider giving me ... ). For example, while Pitjantjatjara does not elaborate any of the features of ideational grammatical metaphor that are characteristic of e.g. English, French, German, Chinese and Japanese, it does operate with interpersonal grammatical metaphor, e.g. in the area of proposals (Rose 1998: 270). The mood types discussed here are associated with ‘free’ clauses rather than ‘bound’ ones – that is, with ‘free’ clauses that make a direct contribution of the development of dialogue, “freely” selecting for a mood to indicate their negotiatory value, as opposed to ‘bound’ clauses that are either hypotactically dependent or embedded. Probably all languages make this distinction in interpersonal status (cf. Matthiessen 1995a: Chapter 5); but they vary considerably in the nature of bound clauses. In English, ‘finite bound’ clauses are structurally like ‘declarative free’ ones: the Subject precedes the Finite (even in the case of projected ‘interrogative’ clauses); but languages often have special modes (“moods”) that are associated with ‘bound’ clauses in particular – e.g. the “subjunctive”, the “optative” as opposed to the “indicative”: this is the situation in e.g. Arabic, French, German, Spanish, and Fula (Arnott 1970: 304–312). Here the mood selection is typically “bound”, as when the mood of a projected clause is determined by the projecting clause (e.g. Fula: clauses of commanding, wishing, fearing, requesting, permitting) or when an enhancing clause is ‘irrealis’ (as with unreal conditional clauses and purpose clauses). In a number of languages, there is an interesting interpersonal contrast between ‘free’ and ‘bound’ clauses (cf. Watters 2000: 199, on Western Nilotic). In German, the Predicator appears at the end of both ‘free’ and ‘bound’ clauses (unless it is fused with the Finite in a ‘free’ clause, in which case it appears early in the clause, in the same position as the Finite), but the placement of the Finite distinguishes these two interpersonal clause types: it appears early in ‘free’ clauses, before or after the Subject; but it appears at the end of ‘bound’ clauses (contrast er hat den Wagen gekauft “he has the car bought”, i.e. “the has bought the car”, with sie sagte daß er den Wagen gekauft hatte “she said that he the car bought had”, i.e. “she said that he had bought the car”). This serves to indicate very clearly the negotiatory status of the clause: when it is ‘free’ and thus negotiable, the Finite appears close to the Subject (combining with it to form the Mood element); when it is ‘bound’ and

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

thus not (directly) negotiable, the Finite appears at the end, thus being removed from the Subject.

... Systemic organization of mood types Languages vary in how they group the mood categories of declaratives, interrogatives and imperatives together into less delicate systems; and they vary in how they elaborate these mood categories further in delicacy. Table 10.14 sets out possible subtypes of the major mood types (based largely on Sadock & Zwicky 1985). As can be seen from the table, systemic elaborations of ‘indicative’ clauses tend to be concerned with the assessment of the information being given (‘declarative’) or demanded (‘interrogative’), whereas systemic elaborations of ‘imperative’ clauses tend to be concerned with the tenor of the relationship between the speaker and the addressee (cf. for example, Halliday & McDonald, this volume: Table 6.12). In English, Pitjantjatjara (Rose, this volume: Section 9.3) and in many other languages, more delicate mood types (often referred to as systems of key) are distinguished phonologically by differences in the system of tone. Halliday (1967) maps out the delicate elaboration of the English system of mood by systems whose terms are realized by tone: these delicate distinctions include terms such as ‘reTable 10.14 More delicate subtypes of the major mood types MOOD indicative: declarative

indicative: interrogative

yes/no

wh-

imperative

possible subtypes interpersonally projected (quotative/reportative) [e.g. Hidatsa] inferential [e.g. Turkish] dubitative [e.g. Yokuts; Blackfoot (also in yes-no interrog.)] assertive [e.g. Chrau; Japanese yo] confirmative [e.g. tags in English & many lgs; Japanese ne] – cf. Sadock & Zwicky (1985: 167–170) biased/non-biased (negative yes/no interrogative often indicates positive expectation [e.g. English, Latin; Turkish] confirmative (on the border of declaratives; often declarative + tag) number & kind of “wh” items – participants (conscious/non-conscious), circumstances and, in some cases, also the process [e.g. Tagalog, Southern Paiute] prohibitive (different negative) [e.g. Yokuts; Chinese; Finnish] (different verb form) [e.g. Greenlandic (infinitive); Swahili, Latin (subjunctive); Welsh (indicative wording); Onondaga (peremptory verb form) hortative (first / third person) [e.g. Onondaga] immediate (or not) [e.g. Tagalog] in presence of speaker (or not) [e.g. Maidu] tenor-related distinctions: formality, politeness, peremptoriness . . . [e.g. German]

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

served’, ‘uncommitted’, ‘committed’, ‘confirmatory’, and ‘contradictory’. Languages may also use interpersonal particles to make similar distinctions. Such systems are common, for example, in East and South-East Asia. Cantonese has what may be the richest system, with over 100 interpersonal particles, which makes good sense since most of its potential for making lexicogrammatical distinctions by pitch are used up lexically (by “lexical tone”), leaving little expressive potential for the interpersonal grammar: see Halliday & McDonald (this volume) and Matthews & Yip (1994: Chapter 18). The mood types set out in Table 10.14 above are characteristic of ‘free’ clauses – that is, of clauses that can enact a proposition or a proposal in dialogue by realizing a speech functional selection. They do not in general operate within ‘bound’ clauses – clauses that are removed from the main line of negotiation by being either hypotactically dependent within a clause complex or by being embedded within a clause or other grammatical unit. ‘Bound’ clauses do not select for mood type – unless they do so indirectly, as projected mood in reported speech.26 As noted above, ‘bound’ clauses may have their own system of modal assessment (discussed in terms of the “mood” of the verb in traditional grammar), with categories like “indicative” (in its traditional sense of a verbal category), “subjunctive”, and “optative” in languages like French (see Caffarel 1996), Spanish, Latin, German, Greek and Arabic (as well as earlier versions of English). Here the unfolding or actualization of the process is assessed; for example, is it non-actual (“irrealis”) or has it been actualized (“realis”)? These distinctions correlate with the environments of hypotaxis and embedding of the ‘bound’ clause, including those of projection and conditionalization. While this type of modal assessment of ‘bound’ clauses is semantically closer to modality than to mood, the principle of projection may relate this form of assessment in ‘bound’ clauses to mood type operating in ‘free’ clauses (see e.g. Harris & Campbell 1995: 306–307, on the extension of “devices that mark questions and certain other non-assertions” from ‘free’ clauses to ‘bound’ clauses).

... Declarative mood ‘Declarative’ clauses prototypically realize statements – the combination of ‘giving’ and ‘information’, and they may be systemically elaborated to provide the resources for assessing the information being exchanged. For example, in Hidatsa (Siouan; North Dakota) there are five types of ‘declarative’ (Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 168): – – –

indefinite: “the speaker doesn’t know if the proposition is true and does not think the addressee knows either”; common belief: “what ‘everyone knows’; this mood is used in relating narratives”; interpersonally projected (quotative/reportative): “used for reporting what the speaker has heard from someone else (and is not vouching for himself)”;

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

– –

interpersonally projected (mental): “expresses the speaker’s beliefs, desires, and feelings”; first-hand evidence: “reports what the speaker knows to be true from firsthand evidence”.

In a system such as this, the elaboration of mood in delicacy is in terms of modal assessment. This may be manifested as modality, evidentiality or some combination of the two. Thus while English, French, German, Japanese and other languages have grammaticalized mood and modality as related but distinct and distinguishable systems, it seems that in many other languages there is no sharp boundary between mood and modality or evidentiality. Hidatsa seems to be an example of this situation, as does Cantonese (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume). If we look at the interpersonal resources of the clause “from above”, from the point of view of the semantics of dialogue, this is hardly surprising: mood and modal assessment are unified semantically as a system of negotiation.

... Interrogative mood .... Polar interrogatives. Polar interrogatives demand information about the polarity of the proposition realized by the clause: is it positive (‘yes’) or negative (‘no’). Languages may have resources for enacting an assessment of the speaker’s own bias or assessment of the addressee’s knowledge. For instance, where English has one major polar (yes/no) interrogative type, Chinese has two (one “biassed”, realized by the clause-final mood particle ma, and the other “unbiassed”, realized by the V bu V construction; see Halliday & McDonald, this volume), which also differ semantically with respect to the speaker’s expectation of the value of the polarity. (It is important to note that many languages – perhaps all – operate with a cline between ‘declarative’ and ‘polar interrogative’: see e.g. the discussion of ‘declarative’ clauses in Chinese with question intonation in Halliday & McDonald, this volume.) The systemic interaction between polar interrogatives and the (interpersonal) system of polarity (‘positive’/‘negative’) is interesting. While the contrast in polarity is in principle neutralized in polar interrogatives because the force of the interrogative in ‘the polarity value is open: you tell me, is it positive or negative’, many languages seem to use negative polar interrogatives to indicate positive bias (Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 182). .... Wh-interrogatives. The systemic status of wh-interrogatives27 seems to be variable across languages. Languages may be like English in that ‘yes/no interrogative’ and ‘wh- interrogative’ are clearly grouped together as subtypes of the category ‘interrogative’, which contrasts with ‘declarative’. Japanese is even more overt than English in grouping ‘yes/no’ and ‘wh-’ into a more general ‘interrogative’ mood type: ‘interrogative’ clauses in general are marked by the interpersonal

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

particle ka (see Teruya, this volume) and in Tagalog the interrogative particle ba may be used in wh-interrogatives as well as in ‘yes/no’ ones (see Martin, this volume). Similarly, in French, both interrogative types may be marked by est-ce que (see Caffarel, this volume). If we look at the grammar of mood “from above”, from the discourse semantics of exchange and negotiation, it is not hard to see why grammars would group ‘yes/no’ and ‘wh-’ together. They make the same kind of interactional contribution by demanding (rather than giving) information (rather than goods-&-services) and thus expecting a verbal response. In contrast, ‘declarative’ clauses give information and do not expect a response (unless one is explicitly requested by means of a mood tag such as the Japanese mood particle ne). However, in other languages, the grammatical evidence for such a systemic grouping may be much less clear; in principle, wh-interrogatives may form a separate type or be grouped with declaratives since both have a determinate polarity value (as opposed to yes/no interrogatives). And while the interrogated element is typically realized by a special interrogative class of item (often with partial phonological commonality, like the wh-items of English, the w-items of German, the qu-items of French, the n/d-items of Japanese, the e-items of Telugu), there may be a connection between wh-items and indefinites, as in Chinese (Halliday & McDonald, this volume: Table 9) and Vietnamese (Nguyen 1990: 60; L. Thompson 1965: 312). One important source of variation in the systemic elaboration of wh- or elemental interrogatives is the range of elements that can be queried: participants and circumstances can commonly be queried, but some languages also have an option for querying the process (as in Tagalog, which has interrogative verbs, “wh verbs”: see Martin’s example (66) in this volume, and in Dyirbal: see Dixon 1972: 55–56). Another possible source of variation in systemic elaboration relates to the speaker’s assessment of the listener’s ability to respond. Thus Huallaga Quechua (Andean-Equatorial) makes a distinction between assuming the addressee knows the answer (marked by the suffix –taq) and not assuming this (marked by –raq): see Weber (1989: Sections 6.2.3 and 16.2). The systemic status of ‘wh-’ interrogatives is also variable across languages in relation to systems within the textual metafunction. On the one hand, there are languages where ‘wh-’ interrogatives are not given a distinct textual treatment; for example, the Wh element appears where it would appear in the corresponding ‘declarative’ clause (“in situ”), as in Chinese (Halliday & McDonald, this volume), Vietnamese ((Nguyen 1990: 60), Tibetan (Sino-Tibetan; T. Payne 1997: 301), Telugu (Prakasam, this volume) and Japanese (Teruya, this volume), although in Japanese Wh elements are indirectly different within the textual metafunction in that they cannot be marked by the topical theme marker wa. On the other hand, there are many languages where ‘wh-’ interrogatives have a special textual status, either (i) as Theme or (ii) as New information (see further Section 10.5.2.4 below).

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

(i) The Wh element may be given the special textual status of Theme, as in English, French, German and Danish, where there is a general link between the systems of mood and theme: a central feature of the thematic orientation provided for the clause is its interpersonal key signature. Here the Wh is not news in the unmarked case; it is only treated as the focus of New information in marked cases, as in so-called echo questions. The Wh element is placed at the beginning of the clause in those Uralic languages that are SVO (Comrie 1981b: 124), and is thus presumably thematic. In the response, the element giving the information demanded by the Wh element is either placed according to its function as Subject or Complement, or “gravitates towards the sentence-final position, for new information” (op cit.). The placement of the Wh element in initial position in the clause is typical in “VO” languages, as in Zapotec (Zapotecan; T. Payne 1997: 301, referring to Greenberg 1966). (ii) The Wh is also focused as New information in wh-interrogatives in Hungarian (Uralic: Finno-Ugric), as in Akan (Niger-Congo: Kwa) where the Wh element is the Subject, e.g. Hwan na ohuu Kwame? (who focus-marker 3PSG-seePAST Kwame) ‘Who saw Kwame?’, and as in Yoruba (Niger-Congo: Kwa) where the Wh element appears in focus position at the beginning of the clause and is marked by the particle ni [Pulleyblank 1990: 280]). (In English, the Wh element is only given the status of New in marked cases, e.g. in “echo questions”.) If Wh elements are strongly associated with Focus (of New) and Subjects with thematicity, Wh elements may not be able to serve as Subject: this is the situation in Sesotho (Niger-Congo: Sotho), where a marked textual strategy must be used to give the questioned element the status of Focus, either passive voice or theme predication – see Van Valin & LaPolla (1997: 212). The whole clause may take the form of a marked textual construction: ‘wh-’ interrogatives may be theme-predicated (“clefted”) as in Hausa and many languages spoken in West Africa (Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 185) so that the Wh element is focused (“it is who that did it?”) and such constructions may change over time into focus markers used with the Wh element, as has happened in Mingrelian (Karvelian; see Harris & Campbell 1995: 164–165); or the ‘wh-’ interrogative may be constructed on the model of an ‘identifying’ clause, as in Tagalog interrogatives where a participant is queried as Token and the rest of the clause is nominalized as Value (“who is the one who did it?”; see Martin, this volume). These two strategies are ways of giving the Wh element a prominent textual status – as what I assume is the focus of New information.

... Imperative mood Languages frequently differentiate the ‘imperative’ mood from all other mood types (which may then be grouped together as ‘indicative’, as in the various lan-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

guages described in this book). We can see this clearly in the smaller range, or lack, of options in tense/aspect, modality, number & person, and also verbal conjugation class; from the point of view of the verb, this means a smaller range of affixes in those languages where this is relevant – one strategy being the use of a nonfinite verb form. Tense distinctions are probably very unusual with ‘imperative’ clauses, but they do occur: for example, in Central Alaskan Yup’ik (Eskimo-Aleut), there is a contrast in ‘imperative’ clauses between ‘immediate’ and ‘future’ (Mithun 1999: 154). The Subject of an ‘imperative’ clause can almost always be left implicit if it is the addressee (though languages vary; for example, as already mentioned, Halliday & McDonald (this volume) note that ‘imperative’ clauses often appear with the personal pronoun ni/nimen in Chinese and Martin (this volume) points out that in Tagalog ‘imperative’ clauses, the one held responsible for complying is “usually made explicit” in the clause although Tagalog does not have a general category of Subject. Languages often have a range of more delicate ‘imperative’ options that relate to distinctions in the tenor of the relationship between speaker and addressee; for example, as noted above, German distinguishes between a ‘polite imperative’ and a ‘non-polite’ one (see Steiner & Teich, this volume). Systemic interaction between mood type: ‘imperative’ and the system of polarity seems to be quite common across languages (cf. Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 175–177; J. Payne 1985: 223). There may be a difference in the realization of the negative in ‘indicative’ vs. ‘imperative’ clauses (as in Mandarin bu vs. bie; Finnish olla vs. äl[ä] [negative verbs], Hungarian nem vs. ne); but the form of the ‘imperative’ itself may depend on the polarity value. For example, in Welsh (Indo-European: Celtic), the negative form of the imperative (na/nac before the verb) is rare in informal speech; instead, a “periphrastic construction” is used: peidio ‘cease’ + â/ag + verbal noun (Thorne 1993: 311). In Israeli Hebrew, a positive imperative may be realized either by a special imperative form of the verb or by the future form of the verb (e.g. Shev ‘sit down!’ vs. Teshev ‘sit down; you will sit down!’); but the negative imperative can only be realized by the future form plus a special negative particle (e.g. ‘Al teshev ‘do not sit down; you will not sit down!’ – examples from T. Payne 1997: 304).

... Mood structures The ‘declarative’ mood is typically unmarked in terms of realization; but there are languages where it is realized by the same kind of marker as the other mood types. Examples of such languages are Tibetan (T. Payne 1997: 294), Fore and Hua (Papuan, Central Highlands; Foley 1986: 164), and in Korean, there is a verbal suffix for each mood type, including the declarative (Kim 1990: 164). For instance, in Fore, tum-en-e (descend-2sg actor-decl) “you descend” is ‘declarative’, tum-is-

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

in-o (descend-intent-2sg actor-polar-inter) is ‘polar-interrogative’, and tum-o (descend-sg imp) is ‘imperative’. The realizations of terms in the system of mood tend to be prosodic, which is the interpersonal mode of meaning (see Table 10.4 on page 554 and Table 10.5 on page 555, and Chapter 1, Section 1.2.2, Halliday 1979; Matthiessen 1988). (i) On the one hand, we find phonological prosodies. Most important among these is intonation, more specifically tone; for instance, ‘yes/no interrogative’ is almost always distinguished from other mood types by means of a rising tone (e.g., French, Spanish,28 Italian, Mandarin Chinese, Pitjantjatjara, Telugu) or higher pitch level (see Ultan 1978, esp. pp. 219–220, 230); and the rising tone tends to come towards the end of the clause (Whaley 1997: 238), when the speaker is potentially about to hand over to the listener. But there are also other prosodies, such as the presence or absence of a clause-final glottal stop (e.g., Akan [Niger-Congo: Kwa ]) or the lengthening of the final syllable (Nchufie [Niger-Congo: Bantu]; Thompson 1998: 313]). (ii) On the other hand, we also find grammatical prosodies (cf. Matthiessen 1988). These are mood particles and serve as Negotiator. The Negotiator may be placed (1) as a juncture prosody or (2) as an internal prosody somewhere within the clause. (1) As a juncture prosody, the Negotiator is placed at one of the boundaries of a clause: –

–

initially (e.g., Arabic [Semitic] ‘a, hal; French est-ce que [see Caffarel, this volume], Hindi [Indo-European: Indo-Iranian] kay; Indonesian [Austronesian] apa(kah)); finally (e.g., Mandarin Chinese ma [see Halliday & McDonald, this volume]; Japanese ka; Thai (chai) mai).

In either position, the Negotiator may be placed next to the Predicator (/Finite); when it is clause-final, it is likely to come at the end of a tone group and may be characterized by other prosodic features such as lengthening. In Tagalog, the interrogative particle ba follows the clause-initial Predicator, as in Martin’s examples (4) and (62) in this volume). When the mood “particle” is a bound morpheme (rather than a free one capable to serving as a clausal element in it own right, the Negotiator), it will in fact be part of the Predicator (/Finite), as in Korean, which has a range of mood suffixes, ta, k’a, la and ca, that occur at the end of finite verbs, at the end of the clause (see e.g. Kim, 1990: 164). Such bound mood affixes tend to be suffixes in “verb-final” languages; and when they are suffixes, they tend to occur in final position within their domain (Thompson 1998: 312, 329).

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

(2) As an internal prosody, the Negotiator can occur in different places throughout the clause (cf. also the note below on mood suffixes in Quechua). Thus mood clitics (e.g. Latin ne; Indonesian kah) may occur with various clause elements under focus. In Telugu, the interrogative particle a¯ is appended to the Finite/Predicator (or Complement, in a “verbless” clause) in the unmarked case (see Prakasam’s examples (51) and (52), this volume), and when another element is interrogated, this element is presented as the Identifier of an ‘identifying’ clause through nominalization and the interrogative element follows the Identifier (see Prakasam’s examples (53) and (54), this volume). These mood particles and clitics are, of course, segments; but they are distributed prosodically and their domain is the clause as a whole (cf. the discussion above of segmental marking as a medium of expression that can be used to manifest the prosodic mode of expression). Examples of clause structures with mood particles are given in the chapters on Chinese, French, Japanese, Tagalog and Vietnamese in this book. However, as noted above, we also find mood items at a lower rank, more specifically within the verb at word rank: some languages such as Greenlandic (EskimoAleut) have special mood affixes as part of their verbal inflections (see Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 167, 172; Mithun 1999: 171–172). In Cheyenne (Algic), there are different verbal paradigms for ‘free non-imperative’ clauses (indicative/interrogative/ dubitative/attributive/mediate), ‘free imperative’ clauses (direct: immediate/direct: delayed/hortative), and ‘bound’ clauses (indicative/subjunctive/interative/subjunctive iterative/participle/interrogative/obligative/optative/intensive negative), the three paradigms showing different combinations of mood and other features of assessment such as evidentiality with the attributive (Mithun 1999: 172). In Huallaga Quechua (Andean-Equatorial), interrogative suffixes are used with both polar interrogatives (-chu) and elemental ones (-taq, raq) (Weber 1989: Chapter 16 and pp. 75–76); but they are not restricted to a particular word class and they occur word-finally, thus being like juncture prosodies at word rank: away-nki-chu (go-2YN?) ‘are you going’; pi-taq chaya-mu-sha (who-? arrive-afar-3PERF) ‘who arrived’ (op cit., p. 76). The different types of realization found across languages are in Table 10.15 together with the basic mood types. Against this typological background, the realization in English, German and some other languages of mood options by means of the Mood + Residue (+ Moodtag) structure can be interpreted as a grammatical prosody (accompanied in speech by the phonological prosody of tone): cf. the discussion in Matthiessen (1995a: Section 5.1.1.1). The strong foregrounding of a Mood element in the grammar of English is typologically unusual. Other languages may be interpreted as having a Mood + Residue structure, where Mood is a combination of Subject + Finite; but

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Table 10.15 Realizations across languages of primary mood types

they may draw less on the Mood element in the grammatical construction of dialogue (cf. Steiner & Teich’s discussion of German, this volume) – for instance in their equivalent of the English Moodtag, in arguments about polarity, in the distinction between different mood types. But many languages, probably the majority, do not operate with a Mood element of the English kind. The English Mood ele-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

ment does a lot of work in dialogic interaction; but in many other languages the nearest equivalent is the Predicator possibly combined with a Negotiator – an interpersonal particle enacting a negotiatory value. As Thai (this volume) shows, this is the way Vietnamese dialogue works. The English Moodtag is typologically unusual – perhaps even unique – in the way that it replays the Mood element to create a Mood + Moodtag prosody (as in you’re proposing taking on quite something, Mrs Finney, aren’t you?). The dialogic equivalent of the Moodtag in other languages is not a replay of the Mood but rather some invariant expression or particle (cf. German nicht wahr, was, ne, ja, gell; French n’est-ce pas?; Japanese ne), as also happens in certain varieties of English (the generalized tag isn’t it in Indian English, as in he’s a nice man, isn’t it?; the clause-final particles in Singaporean English on the model of Chinese, as in that was a good movie, la): see Table 10.16. And, as noted above, arguments about polarity which tend to run through the Mood element in English (as in They’ve got a wheelbarrow in that van – They haven’t – Oh yes, they have) are carried by verb ± polarity in many other languages (cf. Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 191, on “echo system” answers). For example, in Vietnamese arguments revolving around the polarity of the clause are carried by Predicator: verbal group + Negotiator: interpersonal particle, as illustrated in Thai’s example (29) in his contribution to this volume. Here the Predicator di (the verb ‘go’) remains constant. In the initiating statement by Speaker A it is introduced with the Subject han; but in the subsequent argument, this Predicator appears alone together with interpersonal particles. In contrast, in French, negotiation of polarity is carried by an element that is more extended than the English Mood element: it consists not only of Subject + Finite but also of Predicator and pronominal clitics (serving as Complement or Adjunct). Caffarel (1996: 5; this volume) calls this the Negotiatory element. While languages other than English use the relative sequence of Subject and Finite to make distinctions in mood – in particular, between ‘declarative’ and (‘yes/no’) ‘interrogative’, they may do so less pervasively than English. For example, in French ‘yes/no’ interrogatives may be realized by Finite ^ Subject (contrasting with the ‘declarative’ Subject ^ Finite); but this is only one way of realizing ‘yes/no interrogative’ clauses: they can be marked by the interrogative particle est-ce que or by rising tone alone (see Caffarel 1996: 7–14, this volume). In German (Steiner & Teich, this volume) and Danish (Andersen, forthc.; Andersen, Helm Petersen & Smedegaard 2001), ‘yes/no interrogative’ clauses are realized by Finite ^ Subject. The unmarked sequence of ‘declarative’ clauses is, in principle, Subject ^ Finite; but a more dominant principle is that the Finite follows the Theme in such clauses: Theme ^ Finite. Consequently, the “declarative order” is overridden in clauses with a Theme other than the Subject (Subject and Finite underlined; Finite and Predicator in bold):

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Table 10.16 Examples of different tag types type copy of Mood: Moodtag (negative) generalized Moodtag

language English

example They shoot horses, don’t they?

certain varieties of English, † They shoot horses, isn’t it? e.g. Indian English French n’est-ce pas: Tu es sûr qu’il ment, n’est-ce pas? ‘You are sure that he lies, aren’t you?’ ‘not’ Khasi [Austro-Asiatic] ‘eem: Wa phii la da san katnikatni, ‘eem? ‘Oh, you have grown up much, haven’t you?’ ‘not’ + ‘truth’ or the like German nicht wahr Ich hatte dich bestellt, nicht wahr? ‘I had told you to appear, hadn’t I?’ ‘truth’ or the like Russian pravda: ty jegó slúšil, právda? ‘you heard him, didn’t you?’ [Ultan 1978: 224] ‘yes’ or ‘no’ German ja, ne: Alles hat eben Konsequenzen, ne? ‘Everthing has consequences, doesn’t it?’ Mach doch das Radio leiser, ja? ‘Turn down the radio, will you?’ [Steiner & Teich, this volume] ‘what’ Tagalog ano: Hindi maganda ang damig, ano? ‘The dress isn’t pretty, is it?’ [Ultan 1978: 224]

[i.] Theme = Subject Ein steinernes Haus mit Spiegelscheiben und einem Springbrunnen im Garten schien ihr für den Kleinen gerade gut genug aber die Mütter wußten nichts davon [ii] Theme = Subject In der Mostackerstraße wohnte eine junge Frau, und jetzt saß sie arm und verlassen in ihrer kleinen Stube so mußte er mindestens ein Professor oder König werden. Oft wurde er lange Zeit von niemand gesehen, In the structure of the clause, the verbal group may serve as Predicator only, if there is no system of finiteness (as in clauses in general in Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

in general, or as in ‘bound’ clauses in a number of languages, as in Altaic languages traditionally and in easterly Uralic languages typically (Comrie 1981b: 81, 134)); or it may fuse Predicator and Finite in the sense that they are never separated in the structure of the clause (as in Japanese); or it may serve as both Finite and Predicator, sometimes fused and sometimes separated (as in English, French, Danish, German, Estonian, Sùpyìré: cf. also Section 10.2.2.1 above). The Finite may agree with the Subject in number and person, unlike the Predicator (with the exception of adjective-like agreement with participles serving as Predicator, as in French, and of negative Finite + Predicator patterns in certain Uralic languages, such as Komi, where the Finite indicates person and the Predicator number – see Comrie 1981b: 132). This is common in Indo-European languages – but it is not present in all of them; there is no such agreement in modern Swedish, for example, and it is fairly vestigial in English. There is Subject-Finite agreement in all Uralic languages (Comrie 1981b: 125). Such agreement is one indication that Subject and Finite may be treated by the grammar of the language as a Mood element in the interpersonal structure of the clause. In general, the verbal part of the clause is commonly (perhaps always) associated with its arguability status. Mood, polarity, modality, evidentiality and other interpersonal systems determining the arguability status are often realized through the verbal part by means of auxiliaries or verbal affixes or in association with the verbal part by means of modal adverbs coming immediately before or after, or ‘particles’ cliticized to (some part of) the verbal group. (See below for further discussion of polarity.) What about the complementary aspect of the arguability status – the element on which the argument rests? In English and many other languages, there is such an element – the Subject. That is, if we study dialogic interaction in English (exchanges such as (1) Stanley: They’ve got a wheelbarrow in that van. – Meg: They haven’t. – Stanley Oh yes, they have; and (2) Julian (young son): Who else do you want me to love? – Mother: You can love whoever you want to. – Julian: Can I love Peter? Can I? – Mother: No. I think that’s more like friendship.), we find that one element of the clause is given a special status in the interpersonal negotiation – the Subject. This is the element upon which the ‘positive’ or ‘negative’ value fixed by the choice in polarity rests. In propositions, it is singled out for assertion, denial, and so on (it is/it isn’t); in proposals, it is singled out for compliance or refusal (you do! – I will/I won’t.) – that is, it is given the status of modal responsibility for the proposition or the proposal. And we also find that the interpersonal grammar gives it a special role in the realization of mood (together with Finite in the Mood element, which is the domain of concord in English and many other languages), in mood person, in modulation, and so on. The extent to which languages single out an element to give it a special interpersonal status in the clause as a move is very much an open question (see e.g.

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Martin’s discussion of Tagalog in this volume and Rose’s discussion of Pitjantjatjara – according to these accounts, neither Tagalog nor Pitjantjatjara has a category of Subject).29 Here we have to take into account not only the interpersonal variables grammaticalized in English but also more tenor -related ones such as ‘honorification’. Thus in his investigation of the interpersonal grammar of Japanese, Teruya (this volume) shows that honorification is a reflex of the elevation of one element of the clause to give it a special interpersonal status (cf. also Hori 1995). This element is sufficiently similar to what has been called “Subject” to give it the same name. The recognition criteria specifying how such an element can be identified in analysis will vary across languages, of course. Thus Japanese has no trace of a Mood element that is based on Subject + Finite and which defines the domain of concord and English has no trace of an honorification system singling out the Subject. The way in which Subject or other comparable interpersonal elements map onto experiential elements (participants and possibly circumstances) and textual ones (Theme, in particular) will also vary. Here the typological variable seems to be whether the bond between the interpersonal element and an experiential participant (say the Medium or the Controller) is the strongest or whether the bond between the interpersonal element and a textual one (the topical Theme – probably always Theme rather than (Focus of) New; cf. remarks above on the constraint in Sesotho that Subjects can’t be Wh elements) is the strongest (cf. Foley & Van Valin 1985: 305, on their related but distinct notion of “pivot” and its orientation either to a “semantic role” [i.e., to an experiential transitivity role] or to “pragmatic notions of discourse topicality” [i.e., to a textual function]). As Steiner & Teich (this volume) show, even languages that are as genetically close as English and German may differ significantly, with German being much more experientially constrained in its assignment of subjecthood than English; in fact, English used to be more like German, favouring the experiential bond for Subject instead of favouring the textual one, as Modern English does.

... polarity Like the system of mood, the system of polarity is concerned with the negotiatory status of the clause: it makes the proposition or proposal realized by the clause arguable by specifying it as either ‘positive’ or ‘negative’ (‘it is’ vs. ‘it isn’t’ in the case of propositions; ‘do’ vs. ‘don’t’ in the case of proposals). The polarity systems of different languages seem to be fairly congruent with one another (though they are not of course identical; there are various interesting differences); but the structural realizations of the ‘negative’ term (which is the marked one; see below) are quite varied. The realizations of polarity in a range of languages are surveyed in Table 10.17 below. As the table suggests, the system of polarity is a good example of a system where there is a consistent marking relationship between the terms – ‘positive’ and

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Table 10.17 Realizations of polarity LANGUAGE: Japanese Sign

positive negative – sign of negation after verb: palm spread vertically, shaken let to right [Teruya, p.c.] English – not, n’t German – nicht Dutch – niet Swedish – inte Danish – ikke Norwegian – ikkje Icelandic – ekki Latin – no:n Italian – non [often reinforced] Spanish – no [often reinforced] Portuguese – não [often reinforced] French – ne . . . pas [spoken: (ne) . . . pas] Romanian – nu Breton – negative verbal circumfix: ne . . . ket Irish – Russian – ne Polish – nie [double & triple negatives Czech – ne [prefixed to verb] Bulgarian – ne Serbo-Croat – ne Greek ∂e(n) [indicative], mi(n) [subjunctive] Albanian – negative particles nuk, s’; mos [imperative] Pashto – na/n6; ma [imperative] Bengali – na [ne, ni] Sindhi – negative particle: na Gujarati – negative particles na/n6/, nahi/n6hi/; nathi: /n6hi:/ [negative copula; invariable]; ma: [imperative] Hindi – nahi:m: na [polite imperative; non-finite], mat [familiar imperative] [Kachru 1980: 109] Nepali – negative conjugation of verb: suffixes Tamil [Dravidian] – synthetic (older): negative suffixes; analytic: illai ‘not’ + positive singular neuter participle Telugu – present: synthetic – personal negative morphemes suffixed to the infinitive (-nu/-vu/-du . . . ); analytic – past: infinitive + le:du Hungarian [Uralic] – nem; ne [imperative/subjunctive] [negation is reduplicated] Finnish – negative verb: 1: (sg) en/(pl) emme, 2: et/ett, 3: ei/eivät; äl(ä) [imperative] Estonian – particle (invariable) ei (historically < 3rd p sing, pres. of negative verb)

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Table 10.17 (Continued.) LANGUAGE: Lappish Hebrew [Afro-Asiatic] Arabic

positive negative – negative auxiliary verb: 1: (sg) in/(dual) aen/(pl) aet; 2: it/aep’pi/eppet; 3: ii/aeba/aei – negative copula: ayin –

Somali Turkish [Altaic]

– –

Uzbek Mongolian Georgian [Caucasian] Nivkh (Gilyak) [Palaeo-Asiatic] Korean

– – –

Japanese Chinese [Sino-Tibetan] Tibetan Burmese Thai Lao Vietnamese Tagalog Indonesian

– –

Javanese Sundanese Samoan Fijian

– – –

Maori Navajo Quechua Guaraní Akan Yoruba Swahili

– – – – – – –

– –

– – – – – – –

negative particles: la [+ imperfective]; ma [+(im)perfective]; lam [+ jussive]; lan [+ subjunctive – negative future] negative copula: laysa negative particle ma; imperative ha negative affix -me/ma- (preceding tense affixes); negative copula: de‘´gil; negative existential: yok negative affix mas verbal noun + negative suffix -gui /gwe/ general negative marker: ar negative affix -tox/-dox + q’aud’ as auxiliary; q’aud’ by itself = ‘be not’ three negative morphemes: an [decl., interrog.]; ma [propositive, imperative]; mos [‘cannot’] nai; na [imperative; male, informal] ´ particle bu before Predicator; méi [with y‘óu have’]; bie [imperative] negative particle ma/mi in auxiliary slot negative particle m6 . . . phù negative particle: mai; ya [imperative] negative particle: boo negative particle knông (preceding Predicator) negative particle hind ı; huwag [prohibitive] negative particle tidak (before word negated); jangan(lah) [imperative] ora (basic Javanese) negative particle teu (preceding verb) negative particle le: (preceding verb) semi-auxiliaries sega; ‘ua∼waa’ua [imperative, clauses with me] (Dixon 1988: 281) negative particle ka:hore, ekore circumfix: doo . . . da circumfix: manam . . . chu circumfix: nda- . . . i negative verbal prefix: N- [low tone] kò [present]; (ng) kò ní(ì) [future] for most tenses, negative verbal subject prefixes

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

‘negative’ in this case – across languages: the ‘positive’ term is always unmarked whereas the ‘negative’ term is always marked. For English, it has been established that the ‘negative’ is marked in at least three ways: (i) in terms of stratification, (ii) in terms of instantiation, (iii) in terms of systemic organization, and (iv) in terms of structural realization. (i) In terms of stratification, the ‘negative’ term is marked from a semantic point of view (seen “from above”): ‘negative’ is only selected if there is a “good reason” – if the speaker has reason to believe that s/he needs to cancel the validity of a proposition or proposal for the addressee (cf. Matthiessen 1995a: 487– 489). Thus while ‘positive’ clauses do not require a special context to motivate the selection of ‘positive’, ‘negative’ clauses do require such a context. (ii) In terms of instantiation , the ‘negative’ term is marked in probability: based on an investigation of a corpus of 18 million words, Halliday & James (1993) have shown that the probability of ‘negative’ is around 0.1 whereas the probability of ‘positive’ is around 0.9. This skewing is of course related to the “good reason” principle, thus reflecting the semantic markedness of the ‘negative’ term. (iii) In terms of systemic organization, the ‘negative’ term is marked in a number of ways. It may be subject to more systemic restrictions than the ‘positive’ one, particularly with respect to other interpersonal systems such as those of mood and modality (as in English, where ‘exclamative’ clauses can be ‘positive’ but not ‘negative’ – cf. Chapter 1 above, or in Telugu, where optatives, exclamatives, cautions, hortatives and suggestions are “nonpolarisable” – see Prakasam, this volume). Being the marked term, the ‘negative’ may define a systemic environment in which more “conservative” structural realizations still occur, reflecting an earlier phase of the language in comparison with the ‘positive’ – as with “word order” and case marking in certain languages (see Givón 1979: 121–130; Whaley 1997: 229–230). Thus in Dewoin (Niger-Congo), the Predicator is placed in different positions depending on the polarity (positive: f pi say¢7 [he cook meat] “he cooked meat”; negative: f se say¢7 pi [he neg meat cook] “he didn’t cook meat”); and in Russian, a Complement that is in the accusative case in a ‘positive’ clause may be in the genitive in a ‘negative’ clause (examples from Whaley). (iv) In terms of structural realization, the ‘negative’ term is marked in that it requires the presence of an element in the structure of the clause, an interpersonal Adjunct of mood (realized by not or some other negative item such as never) and the ‘positive’ is unmarked in that it does not require the presence of an element (or, more accurately, only marked ‘positive’ clauses do – clauses where the focus is on the positive polarity, as in Do hurry up!). To establish the probability marking of the system of polarity across languages, we would need large-scale corpora for a representative sample of languages. As

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

far as I know, that kind of corpus-based typological research has not been carried out. To establish semantic marking across languages is also a challenge. However, citing evidence from a range of languages, Givón (1979: Chapter 3) has argued that the ‘negative’ term is marked in terms of interpersonal semantics (in my systemic functional interpretation of what he says) across languages. The easiest aspect of marking to check in descriptions of languages is the nature of the structural realization. Here the evidence is very clear: in one language after another it is the ‘negative’ term rather than the ‘positive’ one that requires the presence of a structural realization. As already noted, the system of polarity may interact systemically with mood in different ways across languages. In English and other related languages, they are systemically independent in the grammar: they are simultaneous systems. (As noted above, the meaning of the choice between ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ is often different in the systemic context of ‘polar interrogative’; more specifically, ‘negative’ is selected to indicate some kind of positive bias, as it is in English, Arabic (Cantarino 1974), and Chinese (Chao 1968); but in some languages such as Japanese the negative does not have this meaning.) However, as noted above, the equivalents of English ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ imperatives are often different in other languages: on the one hand, the ‘negative’ imperative may differ from other ‘negative’ moods in form (as in e.g. Chinese – where bie instead of bu is used in ‘imperative’ clauses (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume), Finnish – where a suppletive form of the negative verb is used (äl[ä] instead of olla; see Karlsson 1976: 44)); on the other hand, the equivalent of the English ‘negative’ imperative may in fact not be formally related to the (positive) imperative at all (see Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 175–177); for example, in Greek, ‘positive’ imperative clauses use the imperative form of the verb but ‘negative’ ones use the subjunctive (Holton, Mackridge & Philippaki-Warburton 1997: 420). The form of the realization of ‘negative’ may also vary with the experiential system of process type; more specifically, many languages have a special negative marker for ‘existential’ clauses – for example mei in Chinese (Halliday & McDonald, this volume), yok ‘negative: exist’ in Turkish (Turkic; Lewis, 1953: 101) and wala ‘negative: exist’ in Tagalog (Martin, this volume, e.g. his example (76)). In Telugu , the general negative is the invariant kãdu ‘not’, but in ‘possessive’ clauses it is the verb l˜e ‘no, be no’ (Prakasam, this volume). In addition, distinctions within the ideational domain of tense/aspect may vary with polarity: in some languages, certain temporal contrasts are neutralized in ‘negative’ clauses; for example, in Komi (Finno-Ugric), the distinction between ‘non-past’ and ‘future’ is neutralized in ‘negative’ clauses (Whaley 1997: 230). As Table 10.17 shows, the ‘negative’ term of the polarity system is realized by a range of different strategies; these are summarized in Table 10.18. The ‘negative’ term may be realized by a negative particle or adverb serving in the structure of

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

the clause (as in English, German, Chinese) or by a prosodically bracketing pair of such particles (as in French), by a negative verb capable of projecting the clause being negated (as in Tongan), by a negative (finite) auxiliary verb (as in Finnish), by a negative affix (as in Japanese) or circumfix (as in Navajo, Quechua), or by a negative verb conjugation (as in Omotic languages; Watters 2000: 206). And one language may use more than one structural strategy; for example, Arabic has both negative particles (la, lam etc.) and a negative (copular) verb (laysa ‘be:not’); or there may be dialectal variation within a language: Prakasam (this volume) notes that while standard Telugu uses the invariable kãdu ‘not’, it is “subject-dependent” in some dialects; historically it is related to the verb agu ‘happen, become’. But regardless of the class, position or rank of the negative item, the systemic contrast between ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ is maintained. Based on this brief survey, we can summarize salient features of polarity as follows: –

–

–

–

The expression of ‘negative’ polarity tends to be closely associated with the verb (the Finite or Predicator): it may be a negative auxiliary or a negative verb; it may be a negative adverb or particle preceding or following the verb; it may be a negative verbal affix. If negative marking is distinct from the (main) verb, its position tends to be preverbal; and if the negative is a verbal affix, this tends to be a prefix (see Whaley 1997: 229, 231): both these tendencies can be seen to indicate that the verb is included within the domain of the negative prosody. The nature of the ‘negative’ may depend on mood (‘indicative’ vs. ‘imperative’), on tense/aspect, and on process type (in particular, a special negative for a certain relational type – a negative “copula”, a negative existential verb, or a negative particle for clauses of having or being located at [see Clark 1978: 105, 108]). Tendency towards “circum-” realization, either as particles “bracketing” the verbal part of the clause or as a verbal circumfix, thus forming a prosody marking predicating junctures.30 Tendency towards multiple realization of ‘negative’, thus forming a prosody (as in Spanish No tengo nada “I haven’t got nothing”).

Beyond the variation in realization, we can see a high degree of congruence across languages: the negative item seems to be closely associated with the verbal part of the clause – with finiteness and/or predication. This is significant because it seems to tie negation to an interpersonally defined element. There are of course apparent exceptions to the tendencies identified above. For example in both German and Danish, the Finite and the Polarity element are not closely bonded in sequence as they are in English (see Andersen, forthcoming, and Andersen, Helm Petersen & Smedegaard 2001, on Danish). The situation is similar in Swedish, e.g. Jag såg honom inte igår (I saw him not yesterday) “I didn’t see him yesterday”. However the

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

Table 10.18 Range of realizations of ‘negative’ polarity systemic term ‘negative’

rank clause

group, verbal word, verb

class of unit relationship to Finite, Predicator adverb/ closely associated with particle Finite, often as clitic

example

English: not, n’t Swedish: inte Chinese: bu; mei; bie surrounding the Finite French: ne . . . pas verb = Finite, Predicator in Arabic: laysa certain ‘relational’ clauses Turkish: yok auxiliary Finite: negative aux. Finnish: en/emme; et/ett; ei/eivät; äl(ä) Lappish, Fijian verbal affix Finite: negative affix Tamil: negative suffixes (older) Akan: negative prefix N[low tone] Swahili: negative subject prefixes Finite/Predicator?: Breton: ne . . . ket negative circumfix Navajo: doo . . . da Quechua: manam . . . chu verbal con- Finite/Predicator?: Omotic languages jugation conjugation class

placement of the negative Polarity element in ‘bound’ clauses reveals the tie-up between polarity and finiteness; the Polarity has to precede the Finite, as in att jag inte såg honom igår (that I not saw him yesterday) “that I didn’t see him yesterday”, eftersom jag inte såg honom igår (because I not saw him yesterday) “because I didn’t see him yesterday”. In this respect, Swedish differs from German since the placement of the Polarity element in German is not affected by the interpersonal status of the clause as ‘free’ or ‘bound’ (but the placement of the Finite is, as noted above).

.. Expansion of the basic system – modal assessment & distance The basic grammatical system for negotiating propositions and proposals is the system of mood, working together with the system of polarity, both of which were discussed above. This system is expanded by other interpersonal system that provide the resources for assessing the information or goods-&-services being exchanged and for calibrating the relationship between speaker and addressee. I will call these regions of interpersonal space (i) modal assessment and (ii) modal distance; subsystems found in languages around the world include the following:

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

(i) modal assessment: modality [assessment of degree of validity] (modalization and modulation unified, as in English, Danish, French and German, or distinct, as in Tagalog [Martin 1990]). evidentiality [assessment of source of information: experienced, seen, heard, said, inferred] – Chafe & Nichols (1986); Palmer (1986: Section 2.3); Wierzbicka (1996: Chapter 15). This is found in a number of languages in the Americas, e.g. Quechua, Tuyuca and Central Pomo (see below). prediction [assessment of the expectedness of information] – T. Payne (1997: 255–256). This is found in e.g. Turkish, Lhasa Tibetan, and Panare. desirability (attitude) [assessment of the (positive or negative) desirability of information]. This is found in e.g. Tamil and other Dravidian languages (Steever 1990: 249–250), and in Mapudugun (Chile; T. Payne 1997: 257–258). Dixon (1980: 380) notes an “apprehensional” inflection in Australian aboriginal languages. (ii) modal distance: honorification [enactment of degree of respect towards some element(s) of the clause, often (or perhaps typically) that element which is assigned modal responsibility – i.e., the Subject]. This is found in various languages, including Korean and Japanese (see Teruya, this volume). politeness [enactment of degree of deference towards addressee]. This is found in various languages, including Korean and Japanese (see Teruya, this volume). Languages seem to vary considerably in what these two systemic domains cover and also in how they relate to mood. For example, while some languages obligatorily mark power relations within the central interpersonal grammar (e.g. Japanese, Korean, Javanese, Thai), others do not (e.g. English) or only marginally within (indicative and/or imperative) mood person (e.g. German, French). And while in many languages mood and modality or evidentiality are kept realizationally distinct, in other languages they may share more of the same realizational domain, such as that of clause-final particles in Cantonese (cf. Sadock & Zwicky 1985: 161– 162, on how to distinguish mood markers from what they call attitude markers). modality – or more specifically, modalization – and evidentiality seem to be subject to the same complex interaction as tense and aspect. There are languages which foreground either modality (as for example English) or evidentiality (as for example Tuyuca [Tucanoan]; see T. Payne 1997: 257–258; Palmer 1986: 27, 53, 67–68 – both of whom base their accounts on the work by Barnes 1984, 1990); and there are languages which have “mixed” systems (as for example

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

German, which has a primarily modal system with strands of evidentiality – e.g. the evidential use of the modal verb sollen (see Matthiessen & Teruya, in prep.)). The complementarity of modalization and evidentiality can be characterized informally by reference to systemic ranges within process type. modalization falls within the range of ‘mental: cognitive’, whereas evidentiality falls within the range of ‘mental: perceptive’ and ‘verbal’ (with “hearing” as the bridge between the two: I hear that . . . can be interpreted as a perceptive mental clause or as an addressee-oriented verbal clause). evidentiality is found in various languages in the Americas, e.g. in Quechua (Weber 1989) and in Central Pomo, where -‘ma indicates ‘general knowledge’, -ya ‘firsthand personal experience, usually visual’, -‘doma/-‘do: ‘hearsay’, -nme: ‘auditory evidence’, -‘ka ‘inference’, -la ‘personal experience of one’s own action’, and -wiya ‘personal affectedness’ (Mithun 1999: 181). It is also found in the Engan family in Papua New Guinea and “languages contiguous to it in the Southern Highlands Province”, thus being an areal feature there (Foley, 1986: 165). For example, Fasu has quite a reach system, with visual / auditory / inferential / hearsay (known source) / hearsay (unknown source) / suppositive. While modalization and evidentiality can be seen as forming a cognitiveperceptive domain of assessment, desirability falls within the emotive domain, more specifically the ‘I like (approve)/dislike (disapprove)’ type. desirability is grammaticalized within the verbal system of Tamil and other Dravidian languages. Steever (1990: 249–250) describes the system as follows: “Like other Dravidian languages, modern Tamil has a verbal category called attitude, which characterizes the speaker’s subjective evaluation of the narrated event. It is grammatically encoded in a subset of the indicative auxiliary verbs. . . . Modern standard Tamil has at least twelve such attitudinal auxiliaries which behave in all respects like other indicative auxiliary verbs, as opposed to modal auxiliaries and lexical compound verbs.” For example (“N” stands for an alveolar nasal): avaN

vantu

he

came

tirutÛ’aN

p¯oy

(the) thief

left

talainta:N Aux: ‘get lost’ damn it oZÛ ’inta:N Aux: ‘purge’ whew (am I glad)

For Mapudugun, T. Payne (1997: 258) gives the following set of contrasting examples, with attitudinal values realized within the Predicator: θalílaenew “s/he didn’t greet me” / talílaenew “poor me; s/he didn’t greet me” / ÛtalÛílÛaenÛ ew “that fool didn’t greet me”. Interestingly, the negative attitude seems to be realized as a dental prosody running through the verb serving as Predicator.

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

modal distance is perhaps most obviously reflected in the diversification of terms within the person systems of various languages, as in the elaborated pronominal systems of Indonesian (e.g. Prentice 1990: 201–202) and Thai (e.g. Hudak 1990: 41) and as in the simpler systems of German and French; but it is not restricted to person systems. The distance is based on the tenor of the relationship between speaker and addressee (or the Subject of the clause; cf. below), so the multiplication of meanings characteristic of the interpersonal in relation to different tenor-relationships is to be expected, as shown by Brown & Gilman (1960) in the classic paper on pronouns of power and solidarity: a formal contrast such as du / ihr // Sie in German (see Steiner & Teich, this volume) can realize power, solidarity or familiarity depending on the tenor values between speaker and addressee. modal distance includes at least two (potentially) independently variable systems – honorification and politeness. Both of these are clearly tenor-related. In Japanese, they intersect to form an interpersonal paradigm, as shown by Teruya (this volume) in his Table 4. While honorification is concerned with the potential “elevation” of the Subject of the clause (irrespective of the addressee), politeness is the calibration of deference in relation to the addressee. Teruya (this volume) relates honorification to the interpersonal status of the Subject in Japanese . Like Japanese, Korean also operates with two systems of modal distance – honorification (also called “status”) and politeness (also called “style”). According to S.E. Martin (1992: 299), these systems are independently variable: the honorific marker -usi-/ -si- appears between the verbal base and endings at all levels of politeness. Martin (op cit.: 300) lists six kinds of politeness (“styles”) – plain, formal, semiformal (or authoritative), familiar, intimate, and polite – and characterizes their use in terms of (what we would recognize as) tenor-relationships. These different degrees of politeness intersect with the terms in the mood type system; but there are gaps in the paradigm (set out by Martin on p. 306), reflecting the complex interaction between the two systems. Just as with polarity, languages vary in how they realize features from the interpersonal domains of modal assessment and modal distance – realizational strategies include “particles”, adverbs, auxiliaries and verbal affixes; and we can also include tone. For example, while English may indicate willingness by means of an adjectival expansion of the Predicator (be glad/happy to do), German typically uses an interpersonal adverb (gern); and while English typically indicates hearsay by means of logical projection (at the rank of clause as a clause nexus of projection – it is said/it is held/they say/I’m told → that x . . . ; or at the rank of group as a verbal group nexus of projection – x is said/rumoured → to do . . . ), the German equivalent is often a modal verb (sollen), as already noted in Section 10.3.2.1 above. Similarly, Turkish may use the verbal suffix -misœ whose senses include that of hearsay (as in Tren-le gidiyorlarmis ‘They’re going by train, I’m told’: Lewis 1953: 90) – one verbal category common in Turkic languages in general being “inferentiality” (Comrie

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

1981b: 77). And just as with polarity, there seems to be an interpersonal syntagmatic zone of typological variation – a zone that involves interpersonal adverbs and particles, auxiliary verbs and verbal affixes. Thus, as illustrated above, while Tamil may realize the speaker’s assessment of desirability verbally by means of auxiliaries, English does so adverbially by means of interpersonal adverbial groups serving as comment Adjuncts (cf. the discussion of adverbial groups above).

. Textual – creating information as unfolding text The textual metafunction provides resources for creating ideational and interpersonal meaning as a flow of information in the unfolding of text. It might in fact be better to call this “flow of information” a “swell of information” since the “flow is not uniform but rather a succession of peaks of prominence followed by troughs of non-prominence forming informational “waves”: see Halliday (1979, 1985b); Matthiessen (1992). These textual resources enable speakers (writers) to organize the production of text for themselves and to guide their listeners (readers) in the process of interpreting text, indicating to them how to link to the preceding discourse, where they should start the process of interpretation, what they should pay particular attention to, what they can retrieve from what has already been said or from what is part of the context of the text, etc. The swell of information is quantized by the textual grammar into messages or quanta of information. These are units organized to guide the processes of creating and interpreting text. It appears that textual grammars often – or perhaps always – operate with two basic grammaticalized quanta of information – the clause (the unit of Theme + Rheme) and the information unit (the unit of Given + new).

.. The status of the textual metafunction The textual metafunction is simultaneous with the other two metafunctions in linguistic systems; it is not some kind of postproduction unit for “packaging” ideational and interpersonal meanings (as the frameworks proposed by Dik 1979; Foley & Van Valin 1984, suggest; cf. also Foley & Van Valin 1985, on “information packaging in the clause”). There are many cases where textual patterns influence ideational and interpersonal patterns in the production of text; and in the evolution of languages, it seems that the textual metafunction often plays an important role in nudging the other metafunctions along. Further, the textual metafunction often draws on the ideational metafunction in particular to create appropriate patterns for organizing the clause as a message: this turns out to be the case in one language after another especially with ‘identifying’ clauses (used in e.g. theme pred-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

ication, or so-called “cleft” constructions) and also with ‘existential’ ones (used as a presentative strategy to introduce referents into the discourse). However, the textual metafunction has a distinct status in the content systems of language in relation to the ideational and interpersonal metafunctions. The ideational and interpersonal metafunctions are oriented towards realms that lie outside language: the ideational metafunction construes as meaning human experience of the world and the interpersonal metafunction enacts as meaning social roles and relations. In language development, their precursors can be traced back to the microfunctions of protolanguage (see Halliday 1975, 1992); and they develop out of the two generalized macrofunctions of the transitional phase in the move towards language (with the ideational developing out of the mathetic and the interpersonal out of the pragmatic). In contrast, the textual metafunction is oriented towards the realm of semiosis itself. It constitutes this realm of semiosis as a universe of information that can be processed by speaker and listener as text unfolding in context (cf. Matthiessen 1992). As children learn how to mean, the textual mode of meaning emerges as part of the transition from protolanguage into adult language (see e.g. Halliday 1975) and it seems very plausible that this is also how it evolved in the human species. One source for the universe of information is in fact external to the realm of semiosis. This is exophoric reference where (prototypically) the material world that lies within the visual field shared by speaker and listener is used to establish external referents within the abstract space of the universe of information. No doubt this abstract space of information was modelled on the perceptually shared concrete space in the evolution of language; but the universe of information now exists as an abstract, semiotic space in its own right and the textual resources of language create patterns of information such as endophoric reference within this space.31 Thus definite determiners evolve out of demonstratives (cf. Greenberg 1978). In the course of phylogenesis and ontogenesis, the textual metafunction emerges as an enabling resource: “language can effectively express ideational and interpersonal meanings only because it can create text” (Halliday 1978: 130). Speakers can draw on the resources of the textual metafunction to guide both their own creation of text and their listeners’ interpretation of the unfolding text; the textual metafunction guides the listeners in the process of constructing a network of meanings out of their interpretation of the text and in integrating these new meanings with their current meaning potentials (Matthiessen 1992, 1995b).

.. Textual concerns – statuses and transitions There seem to be two kinds of textual concerns in languages (cf. Matthiessen 1992; Bateman & Matthiessen 1993) – (i) textual statuses, and (ii) textual transitions, these being different aspects of waves of information.

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

(i) On the one hand, languages have resources for giving grammatical elements various kinds of textual statuses (called “pragmatic statuses” by T. Payne 1997: Section 10.0), each kind typically ranging on a cline from high prominence to low prominence – from the peak of a wave of information to the trough. (ii) On the other hand, languages have resources for indicating textual transitions in the swell of information, these transitions being created by a small number of rhetorical relations. The two complement one another and often work together. For example, a temporal transition in a chronologically organized text such as a narrative may be marked by a conjunction indicating a rhetorical relation of sequence in time, by a thematic circumstance of time, or by both. The relationship between statuses and transitions is shown in languages with a “switch reference” system, where there is a distinction between same and different (Subject) reference in successive clauses in a clause complex, as in Siberian Yup’ik (Eskimo-Aleut: Eskimo), e.g. Comrie (1981b: 257), and in Sùpyìré (Niger-Congo), where continuity vs. switch in subjectreference is marked by conjunctive connectives but the underlying principle is one of indication of thematic continuity (Carlson 1987). Here I will focus on textual statuses within the clause since this book does not cover cohesive relations that extend beyond the unit of the clause (for a discussion of the conjunctive resources for marking textual transitions in Tagalog, see Martin 1981).

.. Textual statuses ... Thematicity, newsworthiness and specificity; voice Textual statuses are assigned to experiential or interpersonal elements of units (or indeed textual ones: conjunctive elements). They tend to operate with degrees of prominence, both in terms of the textual mode of meaning and in terms of the mode of expression (see Tables 10.4, 10.5 and 10.6 above). As a cross-linguistic heuristic we can set up (i) thematicity, (ii) newsworthiness, and (iii) specificity (“definiteness”) as potentially independent textual dimensions: see Figure 10.7 on page 638.32 The figure shows how these independent dimensions construe a semiotic space of textual statuses and it indicates the likely location within this space of typical Subjects and Complements, as well as of unmarked Theme, unmarked Focus (of New) and marker, stage-shifting Theme. For example, Subjects are likely to be (i) thematic, (ii) given and (iii) specific, whereas Complements are likely to be (i) non-thematic, (ii) new and (iii) non-specific. Textual systems such as voice can then be seen as secondary, and they are more variable across languages (cf. Table 10.1 above) – secondary in the sense that they have evolved as strategies for distributing textual statuses within a clause and more

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen unmarked Theme, continuous referents ~ Subject

marked Theme, re-orienting, stage-shifting

non-specific specific

thematic unmarked Focus, first mention referents ~ Complement rhematic given

new

Figure 10.7 Intersection of three systemic dimensions representing textual statuses; favoured combinations

variable in the sense that they represent only one way of achieving such a distribution of textual statuses.33 Thus as already Mathesius (e.g. 1975) observed, languages spoken in Europe vary in the relative frequency of the ‘passive’ vs. ‘active’ option in voice, English being a language that seems to use the ‘passive’ more frequently than e.g. German or French (for a corpus-based comparison of English and German, see Teich 2001). What has been called the “passive” in Chinese is even more restricted. And many languages do not use the strategy of a “voice” system for distributing the elements of the clause in terms of textual statuses but use some other strategy instead (cf. Martin, this volume, on the traditional voice-based interpretation of the Tagalog theme system; cf. also the contributions to Fox & Hopper 1994). Each one of the textual statuses can be related to a discourse-semantic concern, operating with the contextual domain of mode: (i) thematicity: the specification of the local context or environment of the clause – indicating how the meanings realized by the clause relate to the rhetorical method according to which the discourse is being developed (Fries 1981, 1995) within different registers (both dialogic and monologic development [see Matthiessen 1995a: 575–576]; and, within monologic, chronological, spatial, taxonomic, argumentatively expository etc.) and thus how these meanings

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

are to be integrated into the network of meanings that the addressee is building up in the course of interpreting the discourse (Matthiessen 1995b). (ii) newsworthiness: the specification of the “highlight” of the information unit, i.e. that element of meaning that the speaker considers the most important for the listener(s) to integrate with existing meanings – indicating how the meanings realized by the information unit relate to the main point being developed by the discourse and how they expand the network of meanings that the addressee has already built up in the course of interpreting the discourse (see Fries 1993; Halliday & Martin 1993: Chapter 11). (iii) specificity: the specification of the recoverability status of an element of the clause – indicating whether it is recoverable (identifiable) to the addressee or not and how it relates to the system of referents being developed and maintained in the discourse (cf. Du Bois 1980). The connection between these grammatical statuses and discourse semantic concerns is methodologically important: when we investigate a “new” language, we can start with the discourse semantic concerns instead of making a priori assumptions about the grammatical statuses. (See for example the different modes of deploying Theme in Japanese in Teruya ’s (this volume) discussion, contrasting the atomic text (taxonomic report) with other types of text.) Different kinds of discourse are likely to throw particular light on the relationship between different pairs of textual statuses. For example, the complementarity between thematicity and newsworthiness is brought out in persuasive discourse, as shown by Fries (1993) and Halliday & Martin (1993: Chapter 11), while the complementarity between thematicity and specificity is brought out in narrative discourse. By constantly referring to discourses of different kinds, we can hope to lessen the danger of reifying thematicity, newsworthiness and specificity as general or universal textual dimensions. “Degree of prominence” is directly related to the notion that the textual metafunction creates a swell of information: high prominence along any of the three textual dimensions just mentioned corresponds to a “peak” in one of the waves of information that make up the swell; low prominence corresponds to a trough: see Table 10.19. The succession of peaks and troughs serve to guide both the speaker’s and the listener’s processing of the text. The peaks play a particularly important role in this processing.

Table 10.19 Degrees of prominence along the three textual status variables thematicity newsworthiness specificity (identifiability)

trough (low prominence) Rheme Given specific (identifiable)

peak (high prominence) Theme New non-specific (non-identifiable)

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

... Variation in realization of textual statuses Languages vary, of course, in how they realize the textual statuses of thematicity, newsworthiness and specificity – by positional marking of prominence, by segmental marking of prominence (which in turn is variable along the rank scale), by intonational marking of prominence, and so on. Realizations of Theme and (Focus of) New will be surveyed briefly below (see Table 10.20). One textual type of realization is the use of structural absence to indicate low prominence; but languages vary in how they use this strategy. It can be used either to indicate ellipsis, as in English (with substitute items such as one, so as a variant); alternatively it can be used to indicate reference, as in Weri (see Boxwell, 1995), Chinese (as an alternative to pronominals such as ta) and Japanese (as an alternative to pronominals such as anata, kare, kanoj; see Thomson 1998): see further in Section 10.5.4.1 below. ... A favoured combination of textual statuses Languages vary with respect to how the textual statuses defined by the dimensions in Figure 10.7 are combined to create the swell of information of unfolding text, with respect to where they grammaticalize combinations along the three dimensions postulated and also with respect to the extent to which the dimensions are independently variable (in probabilistic or absolute terms); cf. Van Valin & LaPolla (1997: 213) on theme and information. For example, topical Themes in Mandarin Chinese are more constrained than English, French or German ones in terms of specificity since Mandarin does not obligatorily mark nominal groups for specificity (Li & Thompson 1981: 86, note “nouns that are unmarked for definiteness are always interpreted as definite or generic when they are topics . . . an indefinite noun phrase with yi- ‘one’ or any other numeral in general does not occur as a topic”). In English and many other languages, unmarked Themes fall within Given information in the unmarked case (whereas marked Themes are likely to be given the status of New, at least in English), but in Tagalog the unmarked mapping is Theme/New (see further below), with the possibility of non-specific Themes as well as specific ones (see Martin, this volume). Perhaps the most important area of textual variation has to do with how languages track discourse referents; see Martin (1983) for a comparison of the strategies in Tagalog, Kâte and English. There is a textual pattern in clauses that is common across many different languages: see Figure 10.8. The clause consists of an experiential nucleus, the Process, which is also the interpersonal domain of predication, the Predicator, and possibly finiteness, the Finite. In addition, there are inherent participants. If an inherent participant is thematically unmarked or rhematic, given and identifiable, it will be structurally “backgrounded” either because it is actually structurally absent by virtue of referential presumption (see further below) or because it is represented by phonologically non-salient, typically short, pro-items,

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

clause

marked – thematically – focally

unmarked given & specific

nominal group with lexical Head/ Thing

participant

process

[ ] / independent pronoun

group

indexing, pronominal affix + verb

word more prominent reference strategies

less prominent reference strategies

Figure 10.8 Unmarked and marked textual statuses

either at clause rank (independent pronouns [or pro-adverbs]) or at word rank (pronominal verbal affixes) – or intermediate as pronominal (or pro-adverbial) clitics (cf. Figure 10.8 above). Consequently, if a language uses referential presumption and/or pronominal affixes on the verb, there may be long sequences in narrative or procedural discourse with clauses that embody referential and thematic continuity and which consist of little more than the Process/Predicator (& Finite). This is the case in Papuan languages (Foley 1986: 171), including Weri (see Boxwell 1995), as illustrated by the following translation into pseudo-English (Boxwell’s example (39)): (i) The battery was flat (ii) and gave to the two boys (iii) and got (iv) went to Garaina, (v) charged (vi) and got (vii) and came (viii) and gave (ix) and tested(x) and saw (xi) but was no good. Here the verb of a clause may indicate that the Subject of the following clause is different from that of the current one, thus setting up a textual environment for what is to follow (so-called “switch-reference”); such instances have been underlined. The closest English gets to Weri is in procedural texts such as recipes: Cut squid in 2” pieces (if tentacles are very small, leave whole); pat very dry on paper toweling. Dip in flower, then egg, and then in crumbs to coat evenly. Let dry on a rack at room temperature 10–15 minutes. Here an implicit Complement/Goal is referentially anaphoric; but the principle behind the presumption of the Subject/Actor is interpersonal rather than textual: addressee-oriented imperative clauses in English

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

have a structurally implicit Subject in the unmarked case. (Elided Subjects in English are referential in clause complexes, however. For example, in Then the Boy came and [Ø] carried him home the elided Subject, [Ø], would be reinstated as he; the ellipsis is referentially anaphoric.) If an inherent participant is thematically marked and/or new, it will be syntagmatically “foregrounded” in the structure of the clause as a full nominal group. Such a nominal group may be non-specific and thus serve to introduce a new referent into the discourse; or it may be specific, serving as a more prominent reference strategy (cf. Givón 1983), in all likelihood correlating with some form of rhetorical break in the discourse (cf. Hinds 1977).

.. The basic systems of theme and information The systems of theme and information are concerned with complementary textual statuses – thematicity and newsworthiness. These were introduced and related to discourse patterns in the previous subsection. Here I will thus start with the view “from below” – strategies for realizing the Theme of a clause and the (Focus of) New of an information unit.

... Realizational strategies The realizational strategies used for Theme and (focus of) New in (an ad hoc) collection of languages are set out in Table 10.20. These strategies constitute ways of marking textual prominence – by sequence, by “highlighting” segment or by “highlighting” intonation (the three being the media of expression in which textual waves can be manifested; see Section 10.2.2.2 above). In this sample, it seems that: –

–

Theme tends to be realized by initial position in the clause and may also be marked segmentally. The clearest exceptions are “VOS” languages such as Tagalog in the sample in this book, where (topical) Theme is marked segmentally by ang and, in the unmarked case, tends to occur at the end of the clause with the simultaneous status of New unless it is a marked topical Theme, in which case it appears at the beginning of the clause (the beginning of the clause being an interpersonal domain); see Martin (this volume). (Focus of) New tends to be realized by intonational prominence and tends to appear towards the end of the clause (or pre-verbally, if the language has verbfinal clauses, as in the case of Hindi (Indo-European: Indo-Iranian), where the Focus position is “just before the main verb” – Kachru 1990: 71; cf. Van Valin & LaPolla 1997: 209) and may be marked segmentally, in the case of those Uralic languages that are “verb-final” such as Vakh Khanty and Hungarian (Comrie 1981b: 124), and in the case of Altaic languages, which tend to be verb-final (op cit., 77, 79–80). The most significant realizational strategy for New is probably

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

intonational prominence and sequence is probably only a secondary tendency (cf. Harris & Campbell 1995: 219, for examples of variation in “focus position”). The clearest exception to the tendency for (the Focus of) New to occur towards the end of the clause (or pre-verbally) might be the Celtic pattern in Breton and Welsh, where it appears that initial position may be both thematic and newsworthy, and the pattern in the polysynthetic languages Cayuga, Coos and Ngandi identified by Mithun (1987). In addition, Theme and (Focus of) New may be given prominence by special constructions that are based on ideational resources – typically those of ‘relational’ clauses. The most important constructions are theme predication (also called “[it-] cleft”) and thematic equative (also called “wh-cleft” or “pseudo-cleft”), discussed for English by Halliday (1967/8; 1994: Chapter 3) and Matthiessen (1995a: 554–562, 564–566). Historically these constructions may in fact give rise to markers of Theme and (Focus of) New: see Harris & Campbell (1995: Section 7.2). For example, textually prominent elements34 in Breton appear at the beginning of the clause and are followed by the particles a or e(z). These particles derive, respectively, from the relative marker and copula of an earlier theme predication construction. While all the languages described in this book use a strategy for marking the Theme as prominent, the nature of the marker varies from one medium of expression to another. The marker may be sequence only (as in English, French, German, Chinese, Vietnamese with initial position in the clause), sequence + segmental particle (as an option in Chinese, with particle a, ni, ma, and Vietnamese, with Table 10.20 Types of realization of Theme and (Focus of) New

English [SVO]

Vietnamese [SVO] (Thai, this volume) Mandarin [SVO] (Halliday & McDonald, this volume)

sequential

segmental

Theme [initial position]

Theme [for absolute them: prepositions as for &c]

focus of New [tends to be final element with lexical content] Theme [initial position]

Theme [initial position]

intonational (including “stress”)

focus of New [major pitch movement]

Theme [sometimes also marked by “pause particles” a, &c] focus of New

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Table 10.20 (Continued.) sequential

segmental

Hindi [SOV] Theme [initial posi(Kachru 1990: 71) tion] Focus [before main Focus [particles: hi, to] verb] Russian [SOV; Topic [initial ‘free’] position] (Comrie Focus [final position] 1990: 78–79) Hungarian [SOV] Topic [normally (Abondolo initial position] 1990: 199) Focus [immediately before Finite verb] Turkish [SOV] Topic [initial (Kornfilt position] 1990: 224) Focus [immediately before the verb] Tatar [–V] (Comrie 1981: 79–80)

Japanese [SOV] (Teruya, this volume) Tagalog [VOS] (Martin, this volume)

intonational (including “stress”)

Focus [“heavy sentence stress”]

Focus [“sentence stress”]

Focus [“intonational stress”]

Topic [initial position] Focus [immediately before verbal complex] Theme [tends to be initial] Theme [towards the end of the clause as New, but identifiable & Given towards beginning]

Tzotzil [VOS] Topic [initial (Myhill 1983: 157, position] 161) Focus [preverbal position] Gooniyandi Theme [initial (McGregor position] 1990: 360 ff.) Focus [tends to be final element]

Theme [marked by wa etc.] Theme [topical: marked by ang; marked topical Theme also followed by “inversion particle” ay at beginning of clause] Topic [enclitic -e]

Focus [“strongly stressed”, “often discernible pitch movement”]

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

particle thì), segmental particle and/or sequence (as in Japanese, with early position in the clause and postpositions wa, mo etc.), segmental particle [+ sequential tendency] (as in Tagalog, with particle ang, where in addition the Process is marked for the participant role of the Theme). (Note that when the segmental marking by a particle is used, it is deployed as a textual mode of expression: see Section 10.2.2.3.)

... Typological variation in theme systems All the languages described in this book have been interpreted as having a system of theme on the basis of evidence from text of the kind I referred to above; and this system of theme tends to include an option of establishing an “absolute Theme” that lies outside the interpersonal structure of the clause and which does not map onto an experiential role (Matthiessen 1995a: 552–554). But there is interesting variation across even this small sample of languages. In the brief discussion below I will also include references to other languages. The principal areas of variation appear to be the following: – – – –

The treatment of unmarked and marked theme; The relationship between theme and information; The relationship between theme and mood; The relationship between experiential (topical) theme and interpersonal and textual theme.

.... Unmarked and marked theme. Languages vary with respect to how sharp they make the distinction between unmarked and marked theme: (i) these may lie on a cline from unmarked to marked selections in theme, as in English; or (ii) unmarked and marked may be treated in different ways, as in Tagalog. (i) Cline from unmarked to marked. In English, unmarked and marked Themes are both realized by initial position (see Chapter 1, Section 1.4.3). When a clause begins with a marked Theme, the element that would have been the unmarked Theme follows. The marked Theme is usually spoken on a separate intonation contour, being given the status of New information; but the same is possible for unmarked Theme. If the Theme is an absolute one, it may be marked by a special preposition such as as for, as to, regarding. The situation in Chinese is quite similar (Halliday & McDonald, this volume, Section 6.3), except that an unmarked Theme that is Given and specific is often structurally absent through referential presumption. Marked Themes may be highlighted by a special theme particle (affirmative a, contrastive he, or selecting ma). Vietnamese (Thai, this volume, Section 7.2.1) and Thai (Patpong, forthc., in prep.) are like Chinese. Similarly, a number of languages around the Mediterranean are also like Chinese, except that their Subjects

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

agree with the Finite so that Subjects that are unmarked Theme and are structurally absent can be tracked by reference to the Finite, as in Spanish and Arabic. (ii) Distinct treatment of unmarked and marked. Languages may treat unmarked and marked Themes as distinct (1) by giving them different positions in the clause or (2) by locating them at different ranks along the rank scale. (1) In for example Tagalog (“VOS”), unmarked Themes (with lexical Head) also have the status of New and are placed at the end of the clause, whereas marked ones are placed at the beginning of the clause and are followed by the “inversion particle” ay, thus creating a sharp distinction between unmarked and marked Theme (Martin, this volume, Section 5.4.1). (Pronominal unmarked Themes are Given, and are cliticized to the Predicator, or an interpersonal particle preceding the Predicator.) The situation may be similar in other Austronesian languages classified as “VOS”. Thus in in Malagasy (Malayo-Polynesian), the “Subject” is clausefinal, and must be definite; but “topicalization” involves the placement of an element at the beginning of the clause followed by the particle dia: see Keenan (1976). Givón (1977: 241) suggests that this distribution of ‘unmarked’ and ‘marked’ topical Theme is typical of “VOS” languages: unmarked Themes appear to the right while marked ones appear to the left. (2) In the polysynthetic languages Cayuga (Iroquoian), Coos (Oregon) and Ngandi (Australian aboriginal, Arnhem Land), unmarked given and identifiable “topics” are realized at word rank as pronominal affixes in the structure of the verb serving as Process/Predicator (Mithun 1987). Clauses commonly consists of Process/Predicator only, and continuous referents that could be tracked by a pronominal unmarked Theme in for example English, German and French are tracked through these pronominal affixes. In contrast, marked Themes such as spatio-temporal orientations in narratives are realized at clause ranks as independent elements, and they are placed at the beginning of the clause, which is also the location of New information in these languages. (As noted above, such Themes are typically also treated as New in English.) When a clause in a polysynthetic language consists of the Process/Predicator alone, there are clearly no marked Themes. Nominal groups appearing as elements in the clause are textually foregrounded in comparison with the pronominal affixes operating in the verb serving as Process/Predicator; and they are picked up referentially by these pronominal affixes. They are thus clearly textually motivated, but are they assigned distinct participant roles in the transitivity structure of the clause? This may very likely vary across languages. (i) In Tuscarora (Iroquoian), such nominal groups are not marked for case, but the pronominal affixes within the verb are (Mithun 1999: 189–190). The same situation applies in e.g. Yimas (Papuan; Foley 1986: 170). This could be taken to mean that they serve in the structure of the clause

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

as textually motivated elements, but not as experientially differentiated participants. The strategy would be to present the referents (nominal groups), and then to indicate how they are related (pronominal affixes within verb serving as Process). (ii) Polysynthetic languages where nouns are marked for case, for example, Eskimo languages, would be different (Mithun 1999: 192, 203): the case-marked nominal groups serve distinct participant roles. The kind of differentiation between unmarked and marked Theme just noted is likely to be characteristic of polysynthetic languages in general. A language like French (Caffarel, this volume) shows the connection between this strategy and that of a language like English. In English, an unmarked pronominal Theme can be given the status of New information – most likely, with a feature of contrast: it will be marked by tonic prominence. It French, it cannot be; instead, an independent pronoun is given the status of a marked absolute Theme (just like a nominal group with a lexical Head), and this pronoun can be tonically prominent as New, as in Caffarel’s example (101): lui il arriva en retard corresponding to English he arrived late. Not surprisingly, absolute Themes seem to be more common in French than in English. In summary, it would seem that marked Themes are more constant across languages than unmarked ones. The former are very strongly associated with initial position – final position being associated with some kind of referential reprise or afterthought. The latter are likely to be Given and identifiable, in which case they may be subject to referential presumption, or may be downgraded as pronominal clitics serving within the domain of the nuclear element of the clause (the Predicator/Process), which is very likely to be the only element of transitivity structure in a polysynthetic language.

.... theme and information. The treatment of the distinction between unmarked and marked Themes is clearly tied to the nature of the relationship between theme and information – whether these systems are independently variable in a language or not. And the third textual dimension of specificity is also implicated here. Unmarked combinations of textual statuses were indicated in Figure 10.7 above. All combinations may be systemically possible in a language, as they are in English, and perhaps more generally in languages where all three statuses have distinct forms of realization, thematic status being realized by positional prominence, newsworthiness by tonic prominence and specificity by determiners and pronominals as in English. However, languages vary in how they combine the statuses and embody different constraints on combinations. For example: –

In French (“SVO”), unmarked Theme is by default also Given. A pronominal unmarked Theme can only be Given: status as New can only be achieved by a separate absolute marked Theme. Here Theme is realized by positional promi-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

–

–

nence at the beginning of the clause, and New (as opposed to Given) is realized by tonic prominence, its position being determined by its thematic status. In Tagalog (“VOS”), unmarked Theme is by default also New and appears at the end of the clause – with the exception of pronominal identifiable ones, which are identifiable and Given and appear early in the clause. Here Theme is realized segmentally, and its position is determined by its informational status. In the polysynthetic languages Cayuga, Coos and Ngandi (no “basic word order” type), identifiable unmarked Themes are realized as pronominal affixes within the verb serving as Predicator/Process, whereas marked Themes providing spatio-temporal orienters or topic shifts appear early in the clause with the status of New information. Referential Reprises (“afterthoughts”) appear at the end of the clause, preceded by an intonational break (Mithun 1987). Thus early position in the clause appear to be associated with marked thematic status; and the movement from early to late position is an informational one – more specifically, a movement from New to Given.

Van Valin & LaPolla (1997: 213) suggest that there is a kind of trade-off between theme and information (to put it in systemic functional terms). In English, any element of the clause can be the Focus of New information, but (topical) Theme is more constrained. In Italian, the situation is the reverse: according to them, “nonWH focal elements must be postnuclear”, i.e. they must appear after the Process.

.... theme and mood. As we have just seen, languages vary in how they map the two textual systems of theme and information onto one another. They also vary in how they relate the textual system of theme to the interpersonal system of mood, and this, in turn, has implications for how mood relates to information. In English, French, German and a number of other languages (e.g. Russian [Indo-European: Slavic; Comrie 1990: 78–79], Kirgiz [Comrie 1981b: 79–80]), there is a clear sense of ‘unmarked’ vs. ‘marked’ topical theme and the nature of the ‘unmarked’ Theme varies with the mood type: it is Subject in a ‘declarative’ clause, Finite ^ Subject (or often Negotiator ^ Subject in French) in a ‘yes/no interrogative’ one, Wh in a ‘wh-interrogative’ one and Predicator in an ‘imperative’ one. In German, the ‘unmarked’ mood-based pattern in a ‘declarative’ is a weaker tendency than in English (see Steiner & Teich, this volume) since any type of Theme, even a textual one or an interpersonal one (or indeed a β-clause that is thematic within a clause nexus: β-clause ^ α-clause [Finite ^ Subject]), is followed immediately by the Finite; but the general principle is still valid that the identity of the unmarked Theme depends on the mood type. In contrast, in Chinese (Halliday & McDonald, this volume), Japanese (Teruya, this volume), Korean, Tagalog (Martin, this volume), Telugu (Prakasam, this volume) and many other languages, there is no comparable correlation between (un-

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

marked) theme and the system of mood. (i) Thus markers of ‘yes/no interrogative’ clauses (such as Chinese interpersonal particle ma or the Predicator bu Predicator strategy, Telugu interpersonal particle a¯ in clauses without a Process, and Japanese interpersonal particle ka) are not given thematic status. For example, in Chinese, Vietnamese and Japanese the beginning of the clause has thematic significance (as in English, French and German), but the interpersonal particles come at the end of the clause – the interpersonal zone of the clause in Japanese (referred to in Section 10.2.2.2 above); and in Telugu, the particle a¯ follows the Complement wherever it appears in the clause. (ii) Further the Wh element is not given thematic status; it appears in situ where the equivalent non-interrogative Subject, Complement or Adjunct would appear in a ‘declarative’ clause. (iii) Finally, the Predicator of an ‘imperative’ clause is thematic in English, French (even coming before clitic pronominal Complements in positive imperative clauses in French, as in Donnele-moi! ‘give-it-me’, i.e. ‘give it to me’; the same is also true of e.g. Greek – cf. Holton, Mackridge & Philippaki-Warburton 1997: 411) and German (even coming before the Subject in German, as in Gehen wir! ‘let’s go’, thus ensuring that the Predicator rather than the Subject is thematic); but it is not in Japanese (where the Predicator/Process comes at the end of the clause) and not in Tagalog either. As far as ‘wh-interrogative’ clauses are concerned, they may relate to information rather than to theme: there are many languages where the Wh element appears to be given the status of the Focus of the New information, as in Hungarian and Akan; and this relates to the use of theme predication in various languages with the Wh element (Harris & Campbell 1995: 164–165). See also Section 10.4.2.4.2 above.

.... theme and metafunctional contributions. Another related point of typological variation is the extent to which the thematic system of a language includes candidates from all three metafunctions (i.e., experiential or topical Theme, interpersonal Theme and textual Theme) and if so whether they are treated in the same way. (i) Multiple Theme: same treatment. English, French, Vietnamese and Pitjantjatjara have the potential for multiple Themes with textual, interpersonal and experiential contributions (typically in that sequence), all realized sequentially by prominent, early position in the clause (see e.g. Caffarel’s French Example (47b), Thai’s Vietnamese Example (7), Prakasam’s Telugu Example (134), and Rose’s Pitjantjatjara Example (15) in this book). (ii) Multiple Theme: different treatment. Both Japanese and Tagalog allow for multiple Themes; but both languages single out topical Themes by marking them

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

with a special particle (ang in Tagalog; wa and other particles in Japanese), as also appears to be the case in Korean (with -(n)un) – the “overlay system” characteristic of Austronesian languages, while textual and interpersonal Themes are indicated only by sequence (early position in the clause). In Tagalog, the beginning of the clause is also that part which has special interpersonal significance, whereas in Japanese it is the end of the clause. (As we have seen above, while unmarked topical Themes in Tagalog tend to come at the end of the clause (which explains the classification of Tagalog as “VOS”), marked topical Themes appear initially, followed by the so-called “inversion marker” ay; and pronominal topical Themes “gravitate towards the front of the clause to bond with interpersonal Themes” (Martin, this volume; see also below). (iii) Simple Theme. In contrast to all these languages, certain languages, e.g. German and Danish, appear not to allow for multiple Themes: while the Theme may be textual, interpersonal or experiential, it has to be one or the other according to the interpretation offered by Steiner & Teich (this volume) and Andersen (forthc.), Andersen, Helm Petersen & Smedegaard (2001). That is, while in many languages, including English, French, Vietnamese, Chinese and also Japanese, the Theme extends up to, and includes, the first experiential element of the clause, in German and Danish it only extends up to the Finite (in a ‘declarative’ clause).35 The model of Theme (textual, interpersonal or topical) ^ Finite may be related to a pattern found in many languages whereby the first element of the clause is followed by one or more clitics. This first element is variable in grammatical class, and transitivity role; the common function may be the textual one of Theme. The clitics may include pronominal clitics and modal/temporal ones, thus covering given and identifiable information on the one hand and finiteness on the other. For example, in Luseño (and certain other Uto-Aztecan languages), the first element of the clause, which we can hypothesize is the Theme, is followed by clitics and particles: “modal particle – clitic pronoun – tense clitic” (Steele 1979: 446–447), as in noo n-il xwaani ‘ariqus (I clitic pronoun-tense John:object was:kicking) “I was kicking John” and noo xu-n-po xwaani ‘ari (I modality-clitic pronoun-tense John:object kick) “I should kick John”. Steele interprets this cluster of particles and clitics as aux; but we can see that it embodies the properties of a Finite element (cf. the more recent category of infl in generative work). This is what Nichols (1992: 55) analyses as a type of “detached marking”; she notes that the most common position for detached markers is the second position in the clause, as in Serbo-Croatian (Indo-European: Slavic): Jovan mu ga je dao juˇce (I to him it tense gave yesterday) “Jovan gave it to him yesterday”. In Tagalog (Martin, this volume: Section 5.4.1), clitic pronouns follow the Predicator (/Process) in first position (his example (43)), or a purely interpersonal element, if it precedes it (his example (44)).

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

.... theme and voice. The system of topical theme may map directly onto experiential elements defined by the system of transitivity. This is the case in Tagalog and other related languages (see Martin, this volume). In Tagalog, that experiential element which is given the status of Theme is marked by ang; and its experiential transitivity role is indicated by an affix within the verb serving as Process. Alternatively, languages may have a “mediating” system of voice that specifies different ways of “distributing” participant roles in the clause, typically – or perhaps always – with interpersonal functions as the mediating interface between textual functions and experiential ones.36 Thus the selection of topical Theme in English, French, German, Japanese and many other languages is stated in terms of Subject and Complement as far as participants are concerned; the participant value of Subject and of Complement will depend on whether the clause is ‘operative’ (verbal group in the ‘active’) or ‘receptive’ (verbal group in the ‘passive’). Languages with such “mediating” voice systems vary considerably in what the systemic domain of voice is: in English, the system is quite general across process types and the ‘receptive’ is applicable to not only Medium but also to Beneficiary and Range and even (under certain conditions) to some circumstantial elements such as Location (Halliday 1994: 169–170). In German, as well as in Old English, in French, in Chinese and in Japanese, the system of voice is more constrained and the ‘receptive’ option is less frequent in discourse. This means that in Modern English, the bond between Theme and Subject is very strong, as pointed out already by Mathesius (1975: 103). He notes that “English uses the passive much more frequently than Czech” and as a result it is “frequently observed in English” that “several successive sentences retain the same subject”. Another kind of constraint is found in languages where the ‘receptive’ embodies an adversative assessment, as can happen in Japanese (with the adversative being interpretable as an interpersonal feature). .. reference The clausal system of theme interacts with both the information system of the information unit and the system of reference which may be associated with the nominal group. One of the interesting issues to be explored in a study that extends beyond the clause is to what extent these systems are independently variable (cf. Figure 10.7 above). Since theme and information are usually – or perhaps even always – realized by separate textual “channels” (sequence in the clause and intonation prominence in the intonation unit, respectively), there is no systemic reason why they should not be independently variable, thus allowing for marked combinations such as Theme/New (but cf. Van Valin & LaPolla 1997: 203). However, the situation with reference is more complicated.

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

Table 10.21 CO-REFERENCE and CO-CLASSIFICATION strategies explicit implicit

co-reference [meaning] co-classification [wording] pronoun, pronominal clitic or affix substitution referential presumption ellipsis

On the one hand many languages have not grammaticalized the distinction between ‘specific’ (“definite”) and ‘non-specific’ in terms of a system of determination within the nominal group (the system may be “elective”). This means that there is no grammatically obligatory marking of specificity (“definiteness” ) in the nominal group, as is the case with at least one dialect of English (East Yorkshire, Halliday, p.c.), Chinese, Japanese, Pitjantjatjara and many other languages. But this is not a problem, of course; it just means that the discourse-semantic task of tracking referents is handled in other ways (see Martin 1983: C. Lyons 1999: Chapter 6), including thematic constraints on where ‘specific’/‘non-specific’ referents can occur within the Theme + Rheme structure of the clause. Thus in Mandarin “topics . . . may not be indefinite” (Li & Thompson 1981: 20). On the other hand, many languages use “ellipsis” as the unmarked strategy for continuous anaphoric reference: if a referent is identifiable and continuous, this is indicated iconically by leaving the reference implicit. To avoid confusion with ellipsis as a substitution strategy (see Halliday & Hasan 1976: Chapter 4), I will call this referential presumption.37 In fact, unstressed, non-salient free pronouns, pronominal clitics and pronominal affixes are just an extension of this principle of referential presumption (cf. the cline of referential presumption in Givón 1983; Van Valin & LaPolla 1997: 205), just as substitution is an extension of (true) ellipsis: see Table 10.21. English happens to be a language that does not deploy referential presumption (except under certain restricted conditions: elided Subjects in paratactic clause complexes and the Complement/Goal in recipes, as illustrated above); it uses pro-items instead. However, many languages deploy referential presumption; for example, Boxwell (1995) discusses this part of the grammar of Weri (Papuan) in systemic functional terms. When a language uses referential presumption, this is likely to interact with the system of theme: texts will often have referential chains constituted by referential presumption with the status of implicit Theme, as happens in e.g. Chinese (see Halliday & McDonald, this volume, for text illustrations) and Japanese (cf. Hinds 1983, discussed by Teruya, this volume).

. Variation across metafunctions: projection The basic systems discussed above are all metafunctionally consistent across languages in the sense that they are engendered by the same metafunction within each language (cf. Table 10.1). For example, there are no examples of languages with an

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

interpersonal transitivity system or an experiential theme system.38 The same applies to the expanding systems within each metafunction: even though languages seem to vary more in how these systems are manifested (for example, is modal assessment manifested as modality or as evidentiality or as a mixture of the two? is temporality manifested as tense or aspect or as a mixture of the two?), the manifestations all fall within the same metafunction. There is one general exception to this principle: there seems to be considerable variation across languages in the division of labour between the logical and the experiential modes of construing experience (see Section 10.3.1 above). However, this variation is still within the ideational metafunction and only affects the mode of construal, not the mode of meaning, which is construal in both cases. It is to be expected that there is no variation in the assignment of systems to a given metafunction – that systems do not move across metafunctions. However, there appear to be some very general semantic motifs that are manifested either interpersonally or ideationally; and it is possible that there are other such motifs that involve the textual metafunction as well. Such motifs ultimately derive from discourse semantic concerns. One example of such a motif is projection (for a more detailed account, see Matthiessen & Teruya, in prep., on which the present account is based). I mentioned in Section 10.3.2 above that alongside ‘verbal’ clauses there are other ideational strategies for projecting quotes and reports: the relationship of projection may be construed within a ‘relational’ clause, as in Tagalog. When projection is set up as an identity within a ‘relational’ clause, it is still manifested within the ideational metafunction: projection is construed as an aspect of human experience and the variation in manifestation is internal to the ideational manifestation. However, projection involving reporting and quoting is also manifested within the interpersonal metafunction as a quotative “mood” within a number of languages. It is not hard to see a link between the logical manifestation and the interpersonal one. Harris & Campbell (1995: 168–) show how “quotation constructions” may evolve from what we interpret as projecting clause complexes. Thus Georgian has a quotative particle metki, which “is formed historically from the sequence me vtkvi ..., where me is a pronoun “I” and v-tkv-i is the first person singular subject (v-) aorist indicative (-i) of “say”: “I said (it)”” (p. 169). So originally it could serve as the projecting clause in a clause complex of projection; but now it has become an invariant particle that is attached to the projected clause in such a clause complex, as illustrated by the following examples (op cit., p. 170): me vambob, I I.say.it.pres projecting clause: ‘verbal’ –→ “I am saying, “I am leaving.””

mivdivar- metki I.goquo projected clause: ‘quotative’

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

me vit’q’vi, I I.say.it.fut projecting clause: ‘verbal’ “I will say, “I will go.””

–→

c’avalmetki I.go.fut- quo projected clause: ‘quotative’

Here projection is achieved both ideationally and interpersonally: ideationally, it is construed as a sequence of two clauses, one projecting ‘verbal’ clause and one projected clause; interpersonally, it is enacted as an assessment of the projected clause. However, there are languages where there is no separate projecting clause: the “projector” – the Sayer of a verbal clause – appears as an element within the projected clause and the projected clause is marked by a quotative particle or affix. Here the projecting part is thus no longer construed as a process in its own right and thus it cannot be located in time independently of the projected process. Munro (1982: 313) cites the following example from Yaqui (Aztec-Tanoan): In kuna si yuk-ne- tia my husband much rain-fut- quot Angle Manner Process: ‘quotative’ “My husband says it is going to rain much.” I have interpreted the “projector” ad hocly as a circumstance of Angle; the nearest English equivalent would be: ‘According to my husband “it’s going to rain much”’. Japanese has a fairly similar construction, as illustrated by the following example from McClain (1981: 409): Shinbun ni youru to Fuorida ni yuki ga futta sooda paper according to Florida in snow ga fall:past Predicator Negotiation Angle Location Medium Process “According to the newspaper, it snowed in Florida.” In the Yaqui and Japanese examples, projection is achieved experientially and interpersonally: the projector is construed as a circumstance of Angle (at least in Japanese), forming part of the transitivity configuration of the clause, and the projected status is enacted interpersonally as an assessment of the information given by the proposition realized by the clause. However, projection may be achieved by the interpersonal metafunction alone. This seems to happen in languages with evidential systems for assessing the nature of the evidence for information being given. Palmer (1986: 71) lists a number of languages; let me just reproduce one of the examples he gives, from Hixkaryana (Carib; from Derbyshire 1979: 144):

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

yawaxa axe

yariy hat waraxa he:took:it HEARSAY Waraxa Negotiation Medium Process Agent “They say Waraxa took the axe.” Here the informational status of the clause is assessed interpersonally: it is hearsay; but neither the projecting process nor the “projector” is construed ideationally. The projection is interpersonal, grounded in the speaker’s own semiotic act. Let me summarize the different possible manifestations of projection. The projected clause is always present. If the projection is manifested logically, the projecting part is construed as a process in its own right together with the participants involved in this process, realized as a separate ‘verbal’ clause (or ‘mental’; see Matthiessen & Teruya, in prep.). If the projection is manifested experientially, the projecting part is construed only as the “projector” – in the role of Angle within the projected clause. Interpersonal projection is grounded in the speaker’s own semiotic act of projection, which we can gloss as ‘I am told’ or as ‘I hear’. The value in the ongoing negotiation of information managed by the interpersonal metafunction is the speaker’s assignment of “attribution” to a source other than himself or herself. This is realized “prosodically” within the projected clause – by a quotative particle or affix whose domain is the entire clause (cf. Section 10.4.2.6 above). While there is no such grammatical marker in English, we can in fact interpret the quotation marks in writing – “...” – as graphological juncture prosodies indicating the status of the clause (or on occasion of parts of a clause). In this respect, quotation marks are similar to punctuation symbols (the ¿...?,¡...! of Spanish). Interpersonal projection may occur on its own; or it may be combined with either logical projection or experiential projection, as indicated by the arrows in the figure. Another example of an abstract semantic motif that can be manifested either interpersonally or ideationally might be the system of manifestation, as described in the context of Hopi by Whorf (1956: 60). The semantic motif is the manifestation of the process; and this may take the form of an interpersonal enactment of an assessment of the actualization of the process (as in the case of modality) or of an ideational construal of temporal unfolding of the process (as in the case of aspect).

. Conclusion In this chapter, I have reviewed the resources of the clause in a typological context. The main aim has been to identify motifs of typological congruence and of typological variation in order to contextualize the accounts given of individual languages in the body of the book and in order to provide some guidance for fu-

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

ture research drawing on the systemic functional framework on which this book is based. As noted at the beginning of this chapter, the focus has not been on the theoretical aspects of a systemic functional approach to typology but rather on descriptive generalizations across languages. Such generalizations do, of course, depend on the theoretical approach. For example, comparison and typology are based on both system and structure, with priority given to systemic organization as far as typological generalizations are concerned.39 Thus one of the findings in systemic typology is that languages tend to be more congruent in terms of systemic organization than in terms of structural organization and that within systemic organization they tend to be more congruent within systems of low delicacy and less congruent (more typologically varied) within systems of higher delicacy (see Bateman, Matthiessen, Nanri & Zeng 1991; Bateman, Matthiessen & Zeng 1999; Matthiessen 2001; Teich 2001). This last point was illustrated with reference to Tagalog, Japanese and English for ‘mental’ clauses within the system of process type: Figure 10.5. Thus the major primary process types (‘material’, ‘mental’, ‘relational’ and perhaps also ‘verbal’) can be recognized in many languages – perhaps in all; they emerge clearly in the description of the languages represented in this book. However, when we increase the delicacy of the accounts, we find greater divergences among languages, as with the type of sensing system.40 This is brought out very clearly in Figure 10.5 above, where the systemic descriptions of English, Japanese and Tagalog are unified in a comparative-typological system network. Here congruence is represented within the system network by common, non-conditionalized systems and variation by systemic partitions conditionalized by for particular languages (this form of representation was introduced in Bateman, Matthiessen, Nanri & Zeng 1991). One long-term goal of systemic functional comparison and typology is precisely to develop such systemic maps of languages. The reason that priority is given in systemic functional theory to systemic organization over structural organization is only one manifestation of a very fundamental principle. This is the principle of the holistic or systems-based approach to the theoretical interpretation of language and it contrasts with the principle of Cartesian analysis (as noted in our introductory chapter). The holistic approach means that phenomena are contextualized by reference to the most inclusive domain that can be identified along any given dimension (see Matthiessen 2001, for an application of this principle to translation issues). Thus language is interpreted by reference to socio-cultural context since context is the most inclusive domain along the dimension (hierarchy) of stratification; text is interpreted by reference to the total linguistics system since this system is the most inclusive domain along the dimension (cline) of instantiation; lexicogrammar is interpreted by reference to semantics since semantics is the most inclusive domain along the dimension (hierarchy) of language-internal stratification; structure is interpreted by reference to

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

system since the systemic domain is more inclusive than the structural one along the dimension of axis; and within lexicogrammar (1) lexis is interpreted by reference to grammar since grammar is the more inclusive domain along the dimension (cline) of delicacy and (2) words and groups/phrases are interpreted by reference to clauses since the clause is the most inclusive domain along the dimension (hierarchy) of rank. The focus on the clause in the interpretation of the lexicogrammatical systems of the various languages discussed in this book thus flows from the fundamental principle of the holistic approach to language within systemic functional theory, as does the constant reference to semantic patterns within the domain of text. There is clearly much more to lexicogrammar than the grammar of the clause, as is shown by the function-rank matrix for a given language. But the way into the interpretation of the lexicogrammatical system of language is the clause: it is the domain in relation to which other grammatical units function either directly (groups/phrases) or indirectly (words, morphemes). For example, to interpret verbal systems of tense/aspect or modality/evidentiality (whether at group rank or at word rank), we need to locate them in the environment of the relevant clausal systems – transitivity and mood, respectively. By mapping out the clause, we thus identify the most inclusive domain by reference to which we have to interpret the resources of lower-ranking units. However, in addition, we are likely to see most clearly in the clause the various fractal patterns that are manifested in the various ranking domains of the grammar. For example, many languages seem to have a thematic pattern that is manifested most clearly in the clause as Theme ^ Rheme, but which is also manifested within the verbal group as Finite ^ . . . and within the nominal group as Deictic ^ . . . ; that is, the most contextualizing element appears first in the sequence of elements of the unit – the clause, the verbal group and the nominal group. More generally, there are a number of fractal patterns determining the sequence of elements within a unit. One example is the thematic pattern just referred to. Another is the complementation pattern: the sequence is either Predicator ^ Complement or Complement ^ Predicator and it is manifested in both clauses and phrases, with a strong tendency towards analogous patterning in groups and words – Head ^ Modifier and Modifier ^ Head, respectively. Such patterns are “fractal” because they are general patterns that are manifested in different grammatical domains (subject to different environmental conditions). In mainstream typology, they have been represented as implicational universals and harmonies (see e.g. Croft 1990). There are also fractal patterns that are systemic rather than structural, such as those of expansion and projection (Halliday & Matthiessen 1999; cf. also Section 10.6 above). So the accounts presented in this book need to be extended to cover not only ranks below the clause but also fractal patterns manifested across the various ranks. In addition, extensions along two other semiotic dimensions are central on the

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

research agenda. One extension is a move upwards along the hierarchy of stratification to semantics and semantics in context (as anticipated by Martin 1983), ensuring not only that semantic patterns are taken into account where they throw light on lexicogrammatical ones but also that they are taken into account in their own right as the text-engendering resources of languages. The other extension is a move “sideways” along the cline of instantiation from the total systems of languages to registerial subsystems to give us a clearer picture of typological variation within and across registers (cf. Teich 2001). These two moves can combine to give us manageable areas of investigation in multilingual and typological work – the semantic resources of particular registerial domains within the total meaning potentials of languages.

Notes . I have developed a typological database in FileMaker Pro for storing information about a range of languages. One of the challenges in specifying information for a given language is to find enough information to answer systemic questions about that language (since accounts often focus on structure-based typology). There are now various models for how to construct a typological database; one valuable contribution is Matthew Dryer’s WWW database: http://wings.buffalo.edu/linguistics/dryer/database. . The system may have been formulated in terms that are not general enough. I feel particularly uncertain about the system of theme because it is so hard to find the relevant text-based accounts in the descriptions of grammatical systems. . As always, this is not a matter of just having or not having a particular system. Rather, systems are more or less present in a given language; that is, they do more or less work within the total lexicogrammatical division of semiotic labour. For example, Mathesius (e.g. 1975) noted long ago that the voice distinction does more work in English than in a number of languages spoken on the European continent. . Even here there is in fact room for independence since the information unit has evolved alongside the clause as a “separate channel” of realization for the interpersonal system of key and the textual system of information. This is possible because the information unit stands in a natural relationship to the tone group of the phonological stratum: key terms are realized by tone and information terms are realized by tonicity. . Intonation operates within the phonological unit of the tone group. The tone group realizes the information unit in the grammar, which is a unit that is parallel with the clause. The information unit is thus the domain of textual and interpersonal features realized by intonation, while the clause is the domain of textual, interpersonal and ideational features realized by sequence and segments. In the unmarked case, information unit and clause are co-extensive; but one clause may correspond to more than one information unit, and one information unit may correspond to more than one clause. The former situation is likely to occur when a clause starts with a marked Theme, or ends with a referential Reprise.

Descriptive motifs and generalizations  . I write “word order” because what we are concerned with is actually not the order of words but rather the sequence of the elements of the clause, which are typically realized by groups or phrases (cf. Halliday 1985b). . This is called “Mood” in Halliday & McDonald’s description of Chinese in this book. Note that in Caffarel’s description of French, the term “Negotiator” represents the combination of Subject, Finite and Predicator. . The bracketed subscript indicates that the Finite/Predicator includes affixes for the Subject and the (first) Complement of the clause. Absence of such affixal marking is indicated by [–,–] . . Instead of writing Finite/Predicator, I shall simply use “Predicator” since the two functions are not split up into two separate elements in the clause – in contrast to English and other languages where Finite and Predicator function as distinct elements in the structure of the clause (see below). . This happens when the referent of the Subject is identifiable and given, as in a reference chain in a narrative. The language may operate with a Finite indicating features of the Subject, as in Spanish and Italian; but this is not necessarily the case: the Subject is often implicit in Chinese even though there is no Finite element. There is nothing odd about this; it makes perfect sense in the light of the work on topic and continuity in Givón (1983). . It is important to distinguish between tone in tone groups (intonation units) and tone in syllables. Tone within the domain of tone groups is deployed by the grammar as a medium for the prosodic mode of realization within the interpersonal metafunction, and the realizational relationship is a natural one. In contrast, tone within the domain of syllables is not deployed prosodically by the grammar. Instead, it is deployed by either grammar or lexis in the same way as articulatory patterns are, as part of the phonological shape of a grammatical or lexical item (such tones may in fact derive historically from the effect on pitch exercised by phonemes that have disappeared; cf. Yip 2002: 35–38, on “tonogenesis” in general, and Mithun 1999: 25, on the development of tonal contrasts in certain languages in North America): here the realizational relationship is a conventional (“arbitrary”) one, and it is not associated with any particular metafunction. This is familiar from the discussion of lexical distinctions that are realized tonally in “tone languages”. Grammatical distinctions may also be realized tonally in this way, as happens with “tone cases” in some Western Bantu languages (Creissels 2000: 234). . I have assumed that for present purposes the terms “topic” and “topical theme” are roughly equivalent and the “focus” can be interpreted as ‘focus of new information’. Unless the account given is discourse-based, it is impossible to be certain about these correspondences – any many accounts do not make reference to evidence from natural discourse. . There are thus two different variables here for participants – ga/o/Ø(/ni) and wa/Ø, and it is therefore quite misleading to interpret this as a choice between marking by wa and marking by ga, as has often been done in the literature: ga is related to interpersonal elevation, while wa is related to textual prominence (see Teruya, this volume). . It is important to note that such differences in the division of labour between the logical and experiential modes occur among registerial varieties within a single language: spoken English favours the logical mode whereas written English favours the experiential mode, a

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

difference which is enhanced by the deployment of grammatical metaphor of the ideational kind in prototypical written English (see Halliday & Martin 1993; Halliday & Matthiessen 1999: Chapter 6). . The line between clause complexing and verbal group complexing is fluid, and it can thus be hard to draw it in descriptions. As always in systemic functional descriptions, phenomena have to be viewed in a trinocular perspective, “from above”, “from below” and “from around”. . It is also important to note that while I have explored this quantization in ideational terms, this is also an interpersonal and a textual concern: the kind of variation in what constitutes a quantum of change is also variation in what constitutes a quantum of interaction – a move in dialogue (interpersonal) and what constitutes a quantum of information in the flow of information – a message (textual). . Certain languages spoken in North America, e.g. Yup’ik, have tense markers with nouns as well as verbs (Mithun 1999: 154); but the temporal relation seems to apply to the assignment of a referent to the class of thing denoted by the noun, not to the class of thing itself: the past tense noun ikamralqa in Yup’ik means ‘my former sled’, whereas the future tense noun ikamrarkaqa means ‘my future sled’. . Such markers may distinguish more delicate subtypes of processes rather than the primary process types; and they may be sensitive to features within the other metafunctions. . In his description of Telugu, Prakasam (this volume) calls them “identificatory”; but this category includes both ‘identifying’ and ‘attributive’. . We also have to allow for the common possibility of ‘relational’ clauses with only one participant and a Process that construes a quality (realized by a “stative” or “adjectival” verb): see for example Halliday & McDonald’s description of ascriptive clauses in Chinese. These correspond to the pattern of he doesn’t matter rather than he isn’t important. . Systemically such clauses still have a value in the system of process type, of course; the structural absence of the Process is just as much a realization of a term in this system as is a realization of the Process by a special verb class. . Unfortunately it would take too long to review the substantial literature on “case marking”/“alignment” systems. But from a systemic functional point of view, it is important to sort out the phenomena very clearly according to (i) metafunction (ideational, interpersonal or textual?) and (ii) rank (clause, group[/[phrase] or word?) and to describe the phenomena not only structurally but also systemically, taking account of registerial variation along the cline of instantiation (see Matthiessen & Nesbitt 1996: 69–72, for some discussion). . We can, however, note another ‘intransitive’ variant, as in this music pleases us: this music pleases. . Note that in his description of Pitjantjatjara, Rose (this volume) uses the term “Medium” in a different sense: it does not refer to a participant role in the ergative model of transitivity (and the same applies to his use of the terms “Agent” and “Range”). . There are many other indications as well, even low-ranking ones such as the use of the nominalizing suffixes -er (for Agent, as in employer) and -ee (for Medium, as in employee, standee) and the potential for “noun incorporation” (cf. Payne 1997: 162, who cites bird-

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

chirping and fox-hunting, where (in systemic terms) the Medium has been incorporated, and notes that Agents incorporate less easily (thus nobility-hunting is unlikely to mean ‘hunting by the nobility’). . Here languages vary with respect to how closely projected mood categories match straight ones. For example, in English all projected indicative clauses are declarative in structure whereas all projected imperatives are infinitival clauses. . Various terms have been used for this type of interrogative; elsewhere in this book we have also used “elemental”, and language-specific terms like “w-interrogative”. They have been called “content questions” or “question-word questions”, but the term “question” is used in systemic functional descriptions to denote the speech-functional category that is realized congruently by the interrogative in the grammar of mood. Lockwood (2002: 266) suggests the term “supplement question”. . While all punctuation markers in writing can be interpreted as graphological juncture prosodies, Spanish reinforces this nicely with the initial and final exclamation marks and question marks (¡!; ¿?). . Instead, linguists have asked ‘does this language have a subject?’, ‘how do we recognize the subject in this language?’, ‘what are the universal properties of subject?’. One problem with this approach is that it reifies a grammatical phenomenon in terms of a theoretical or descriptive category of Subject and then takes this reification as the point of departure for the investigation. Instead what we should take as the point of departure is natural dialogue, investigating the patterns created by the grammar of dialogue. Another problem is that it neutralizes the metafunctional distinction between Subject and Theme, and between Subject and Actor and other participant roles (cf. Section 2.5 above and work on Tagalog and related languages in the typological literature). . In a sample of 345 languages, Dryer (1988) found 20 languages that always mark ‘negative’ more than once. . Some scholars have complained about the metaphorical mode of construing textual meaning – flow of information, point of departure, topic (from Greek “topos”, ‘place’) and the like. But as I have tried to show (Matthiessen 1992), it is possible to ground these metaphors in an interpretation of the textual mode of meaning. . We might in fact add a fourth dimension – continuity-&-contrast in wording (cf. Halliday & Hasan 1976: Chapters 3 and 4). Continuity is the low prominence status; it is continuity in wording and is realized by structural ellipsis or substitution (items such as one, do and so in English). Contrast is the high prominence status; the prominence appears in the environment of the continuity. One challenge in work on different languages is to determine whether structural absence of an element marks structural continuity of this kind and/or referential presumption (such as anaphora): cf. Section 10.5.5 below. . Voice systems can be metafunctionally complex involving (i) assignment of textual statuses (textual), (ii) assignment of modal responsibility to one element of the clause and possibly also some kind of adversative assessment of the “Subject” (interpersonal) and (iii) variation in the degree of transitivity of the clause (experiential): cf. Matthiessen (1995: 595– 600). The experiential aspect of voice systems is seen also in evolution of languages: passive

 Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen

voice may be the source of ergative case marking, as in Iranian languages (Harris & Campbell 1995: 243–245). . Harris and Campbell characterize these as “focused constituents” (p. 155); but from the work they refer to in a footnote (p. 409), it would appear that the elements marked by initial position and the particle a or e(z) have the status of both Theme and New. This is probably what can be expected from the textual impact of theme predication (see Halliday 1967/8): one element is predicated as Theme and at the same time given the status of New information. . This generalization is obviously based on the interpretation of the Finite as the transition between Theme and Rheme. Alternative interpretations can be explored; for example, the Theme could be assumed always to include the Subject. The choice between these different accounts will have to be based on evidence drawn from extensive analysis of texts from a wide range of registers. In accounts of both Danish and German, there is a long tradition of describing sequence in the clause by reference to a positional model, where different “fields” are recognized (as in Diderichsen’s work on Danish). However, these accounts do not explain why the sequence is the way it is: to explain sequential patterns, we need to ground the account in the textual metafunction. . This has sometimes been taken to mean that functions such as Subject and Complement (or “object”, in traditional and formal terms) are “purely syntactic”; but such a view simply overlooks their interpersonal status and the contribution the interpersonal metafunction makes to the mapping. . This has often been called “pro-drop” or “zero pronominalization”; but these terms are very unfortunate in that they treat the English-style strategy as the norm. . As we have seen, there may be a shift over time from one metafunction to another, as when ideational identifying constructions change into textual structures (theme predications, theme equatives) and textual markers. But such phylogenetic shifts also appear to be consistent across languages, and they always involve a shift in function, as when the ideational metafunction provides realizational material for the textual or interpersonal metafunction. . In the typological context it is particularly important to note that systems do not construe discrete contrasts (cf. Halliday 1961); they can be interpreted topologically as well as typologically (Martin & Matthiessen 1991) and the terms in systems can be interpreted in terms of fuzzy set theory (Matthiessen 1995b). . This does of course not mean that there are no generalizations to be made when we reach greater delicacy. The point is that the degree of typological variation increases with increasing delicacy; but this variation is still subject to significant patterns of congruence, as is illustrated for the ‘mental’ domain of the lexicogrammar by Viberg’s (1984) study of verbs of perception. Even the ways in which languages evolve greater delicacy are subject to general systemic principles, as was shown within phonology by Jakobson (1944).

Descriptive motifs and generalizations 

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Nguyen, Dinh-Hoa (1990). “Vietnamese.” In Bernard Comrie (Eds.), The major languages of East and South-East Asia (pp. 49–69). London: Routledge. Nichols, Johanna (1986). “Head-marking and dependent-marking grammar.” Language, 62, 56–117. Nichols, Johanna (1992). Linguistic diversity in space and time. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Nichols, Johanna (1998). “The origin and dispersal of languages: linguistic evidence.” In Nina G. Jablonski & Leslie C. Aiello (Eds.), The origin and diversification of language (pp. 127–171). Memoirs of the California Academy of Sciences, Number 24. Ochs, Elinor, Emanuel A. Schegloff, & Sandra A. Thompson (Eds.). (1996). Interaction and grammar. (Studies in Interactional Sociolinguistics 13.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Palmer, F. R. (1986). Mood and modality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Palmer, F. R. (1994). Grammatical Roles and Relations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Patpong, Pattama (Forthc.). Theme in Thai. In S. Hunston & G. Thompson (Eds.). Pattpong, Pattama (In prep.). A systemic functional description the grammar of Thai in traditional folk tales. PhD thesis, Macquarie University. Pawley, A. (1980). “On meeting a language that defies description by ordinary means.” Paper presented at the Congress of the Linguistic Society of Papua New Guinea, Lae, September 1980. [Referenced in Foley (1986).] Pawley, A. (1987). “Encoding events in Kalam and English: different logics for reporting experience.” In Russell S. Tomlin (Ed.). Coherence and grounding in discourse (pp. 329– 361). Amsterdam: Benjamins. Payne, John (1985). “Negation.” In Timothy Shopen (Ed.), Language typology and syntactic description. Clause structure (pp. 197–243). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Payne, Thomas E. (1997). Describing Morphosyntax: a Guide for Field Linguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pedersen, John, Ebbe Spang-Hanssen, & Carl Vikner (1982). Fransk universitetsgrammatik. (Translated by Olof Eriksson & Lars Lindvall.) Stockholm: Akademiförlaget. Prentice, D. J. (1990). “Malay (Indonesian and Malaysian).” In Bernard Comrie (Ed.), The major languages of East and South-East Asia (pp. 185–207). London: Routledge. Pulleyblank, Douglas (1990). “Yoruba.” In Bernard Comrie (Ed.), The major languages of South Asia, the Middle East and Africa (pp. 265–284). London: Routledge. Rose, D. (1998). The Western Desert Code: an Australian cryptogrammar. PhD thesis, University of Sydney. Rose, D. (2001). The Western Desert Code: an Australian cryptogrammar. The Australian National University: Pacific Linguistics. Sadock, Jerry, & Arnold Zwicky (1985). “Speech act distinctions in syntax.” In T. Shopen (Ed), Language Typology and Syntactic Description. Volume I: Clause Structure (pp. 155– 197). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schachter, Paul (1985). “Parts-of-speech systems.” In Timothy Shopen (Ed.), Language typology and syntactic description: clause structure (pp. 3–61). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Index

A Abe 550 ability Pitjantjatjara 496 absolute sequence 555 absolute Theme Chinese 321, 361 French 80, 120, 127 absolutive marking 590 Accompaniment Pitjantjatjara 481, 510 accusative 572, 589, 594 German 152, 154, 163 Telugu 476 act 592 Tagalog 262 action Pitjantjatjara 506, 512 Telugu 465, 468 actional Telugu 436 active 651 Pitjantjatjara 485 active (case) Pitjantjatjara 491 active-passive distinction 435, 447 Actor 48, 551, 575, 582, 587, 588, 590, 601, 603 Chinese 332, 355, 371 French 84 German 163 Japanese 223, 225 Pitjantjatjara 512 Tagalog 258 Vietnamese 417 Addition

Pitjantjatjara 510 addressee-based Telugu 440 addressor-based Telugu 440 adjectival group Japanese 189, 217 Vietnamese 423 adjectival verb Chinese 358 adjectival verbal group Chinese 359 adjective Tagalog 271 Adjunct 46, 47, 573, 628 French 94 German 151 Japanese 231 Vietnamese 417 adposition 556 adpositional phrase 569, 578 adverb negative 629 Pitjantjatjara 510 adverbial group Chinese 316 Affected Telugu 474 affection German 155 affective 593 Chinese 370 Pitjantjatjara 519 affective (case) 582 affix 556 Chinese 311

 Index

negative 630 Pitjantjatjara 481 agency Chinese 354, 376 French 99, 110, 115 Japanese 189 Agent 49, 604 Chinese 373 French 84, 110 Japanese 189, 223, 230, 237 Agent (Pitjantjatjara) 506 agentive Chinese 373 agglutinative 2 agreement 624 ailment 599 Telugu 456 Akan 551, 561, 570, 571, 577, 582, 588, 591–593, 596, 599, 601, 606, 617, 619, 649 Allen 600 Altaic 185 Althochdeutsch 139 analytic 55, 79, 140, 310 Anangu people 479 Anangu society 494 Ancient Greek 44 Andean-Equatorial 616, 620 Andersen 547, 582, 622, 630, 650 Andi 582 Angle 601, 654, 655 anglo-centric 7 animate 588 applicative voice 608 Arabic 544, 545, 549, 551, 568–570, 592, 595, 596, 598, 599, 612, 619, 629, 630 arguability status 572, 624 arguable 547 Arnott 612 ascriptive Chinese 357, 358, 371 Vietnamese 423 aspect 579, 590, 653, 655 Chinese 353, 379, 380 Pitjantjatjara 484

assessement Chinese 341 assessment Chinese 341 assignment of properties 598 Athabascan 589 Athabaskan 587 attachment Japanese 226 attitude 541, 632 Attribute 48 Chinese 358, 362, 385 French 106 German 162 Japanese 217 Tagalog 271 Telugu 448 Vietnamese 423 attributive 596 Chinese 357 French 106 German 162 Japanese 219 Pitjantjatjara 521 Tagalog 271 Attributor French 113 Auslan 554 Austin 481 Australian languages 480, 489 Austro-Asiatic 397 Austronesian 185, 255, 590, 594, 602, 650 aux 650 auxiliary Chinese 330 negative 630 Avar 583, 606 axis 22, 38 Azerbaydzhan 599 Aztec-Tanoan 654 B b-clause 648 báihuà 306

Index 

bˇa construction 374 backgrounded Pitjantjatjara 525 Bamileke-Ngyemboon 579 Bantu 579 Barnes 632 Barnwell 7 Bateman 4, 8, 39, 537, 539, 656 Bateson 610 Bautista 278 Bearlake 587 Behalf Pitjantjatjara 510 behaviour Japanese 227 behavioural 49, 600 French 100 being 581, 595 being process French 106 benefactive 573 benefactive clause 558 Benefactor Japanese 226 Beneficiary 50, 651 Chinese 371 German 156, 164 Japanese 223 Benkirane 550 biassed 615 Chinese 335 bidirectionality 216, 263 biological system 9 Blake 2, 480, 590, 599 Bloomfield 256, 258 Bodily Means Pitjantjatjara 510 bound 612, 614, 631 Bowe 492 Boxwell 640, 641, 652 Brahui 433 Breton 643 Brown 634 Buenaventura-Naylor 258, 283 Burmese 544, 596

Buscha 152 Butt 9, 538 Bybee 2, 3, 22, 571 Bynon 1, 3 C Caffarel 84, 94, 98, 106, 120, 125, 127, 336, 547, 559, 564, 568, 574, 579, 581, 593, 601, 614, 616, 619, 622, 649 Caldwell 433 Campbell 3, 22, 614, 617, 643, 649, 653 Cantarino 545, 549, 629 Cantonese 305, 342, 380, 385, 397, 541, 560, 614, 615, 632 Capell 480 Capra 16 Carib 654 Carrier 48 Chinese 358, 362 French 106 German 162 Japanese 217 Tagalog 271 Telugu 447 Vietnamese 423 Carrier-domain Japanese 217 Cartesian analysis 17, 656 Cartier 379 case 572, 589 German 150, 152, 163 Pitjantjatjara 485 case grammar 259 case markers 583 case marking 573, 583, 593, 599, 603, 628 case-marked receptive Telugu 447, 462 categorizing Chinese 357, 362, 365 Catford 8 Caucasian 582, 606 causation Telugu 465 causative

 Index

Chinese 370 French 113 Cause 588 cause Chinese 378 Causer Telugu 474 caution 628 Telugu 442 Cayuga 568, 646 Celtic 77, 618, 643 Cena 280 Central Dravidian 433 Central Pomo 633 centrifugal 602 Tagalog 265, 268 centripetal 602 Tagalog 265, 268 chuzhì shì 374 ˇ Chafe 2, 59, 632 chain 29 Chamorro 602 Chao 306, 308, 310, 320, 324, 359, 361, 377, 378, 382–384, 629 character 306 Chechen 583 Chinese 38, 187, 397, 538, 541, 544, 548, 551, 553, 568, 570, 577, 578, 580, 583, 584, 588, 593–596, 598, 600–602, 605, 611, 612, 615, 616, 618–620, 629, 630, 640, 643, 648, 649, 651, 652 Chomsky 21 Chomskyan tradition 5 Chukchi 590 Chukotko-Kamchatkan 590 circumfix negative 630 Circumstance Pitjantjatjara 506 circumstance 48, 551, 574 Chinese 313 Japanese 188, 223, 225 Pitjantjatjara 482, 490, 491, 510, 527 Tagalog 260, 271

Vietnamese 417 circumstance type Chinese 377 French 99 circumstantial 598 Chinese 357, 365 French 107 Japanese 221 Tagalog 272 Vietnamese 426 circumstantial transitivity 99 Japanese 207 circumstantiation Pitjantjatjara 510 Clark 630 class 34 Chinese 320 class (group, word, morpheme) 571 Classifier Vietnamese 398 Claudi 3, 40, 570 clausal aspect Chinese 381 clausal particle Chinese 334, 341 clause 657 clause complex Pitjantjatjara 515 clause nexus 648 clause nucleus 578 clause rank 568 clause-chaining 480, 515 clause-initial Pitjantjatjara 492 clause-initial position Japanese 189, 229, 247 cleft 643 clefted 617 Client 48, 588 Vietnamese 418 cline of delicacy 40 cline of instantiation 19, 38 cline of interrogativity 336 clitic 83, 641 French 124

Index 

Pitjantjatjara 486, 526 Tagalog 280 cliticization Pitjantjatjara 527 cognition German 155, 157 Tagalog 261, 263 cognitive 592, 633 Chinese 370 Japanese 214 Pitjantjatjara 519 Coles 549 collocation 583 Combettes 121 commitment Pitjantjatjara 496 commodity 610 communication style 489 communicative dynamism 181 Comparison Pitjantjatjara 510 competence 21 Complement 47, 572, 651 French 94 Telugu 436 Vietnamese 417 completive phase Chinese 341, 353, 358, 359, 369, 374, 383, 384 completive postverb Chinese 380 complex 32 componential approach 16 Comrie 1–3, 54, 55, 106, 492, 548, 566, 579, 599, 606, 624, 634, 642, 648 conative 383 conclusive Japanese 191 concord 599 configuration 29, 575 configurational 551 conjunction Chinese 314 Japanese 189 Vietnamese 405

Conjunctive Vietnamese 407 consciousness 591 continuative Vietnamese 404 Controller 602, 625 conversation analysis 21 Coos 646 copula 595, 643 cosmogenesis 9 coverb Chinese 317 coverbal phrase 570, 578 Chinese 317, 377 Cowan 598 Craig 542, 610 creative German 163 Japanese 225 Pitjantjatjara 514 creolization of Japanese 186 Croft 3, 657 Cruz 255 culminative patterning 295 culminative placement 548 Cumming 3 Czech 651 D Dahl 2 Daneš 131 Danish 547, 582, 622, 630, 650 dative 572, 582, 589, 594 German 153, 160, 163 Telugu 452, 460–462, 470 dative shift 558 Davidse 48, 49, 218 Deacon 9 decay 244 declarative 611, 614 Chinese 331 German 146 Japanese 196 Pitjantjatjara 490

 Index

Tagalog 286 Telugu 441 Vietnamese 411 declarative question Chinese 335 decoding Japanese 218, 220 Vietnamese 425 deep case 59 definiteness 572, 590, 596, 599, 637, 652 Tagalog 283 DeFrancis 310 degree of modality Chinese 339 degree of prominence 548 Deictic 596 Delancey 542, 562 delicacy 39, 656 typological variation 539 Delsemme 9 dependent-marking 589 Derbyshire 654 Descartes 17 description 6, 8, 42, 428, 537, 656 descriptive catebory 311 descriptive category 11 desiderative 592 Chinese 370 Japanese 214 desirability 632, 633 Destination Pitjantjatjara 510 detachment Japanese 226 determination 652 determiner 596 Vietnamese 425 dialect 434 diathesis 540 German 153, 179 Dik 635 dimensions of contextualization 37 Direct Object German 152 direct speech

Pitjantjatjara 516 directional phase Chinese 353, 371, 383 discourse semantics 36 discourse-semantic concern 539 dispositive German 163 Japanese 225 dispositive (voice) Chinese 374 dispositive (voice) Chinese 372 dispossession 590 distance 244 Dixon 61, 480, 491, 492, 553, 570, 571, 616 Doherty 142, 180 doing process French 100 doing-&-happening 581, 587 downranking 562 Dravidian 186, 433, 448, 477, 596, 632, 633 Dreaming 480 Dryer 60 DuBois 21 Duration Pitjantjatjara 510 durative Chinese 380 Dyirbal 570, 616 E East Yorkshire 652 echo question 617 Telugu 437 echo-interrogative Telugu 441 Edelman 9 effective Chinese 370 effective (Pitjantjatjara) 512 effective see AGENCY 189 egalitarian mutuality 480 elaborating

Index 

Japanese 225 elaboration 602 elative 594 elective system 329, 339, 652 element type Pitjantjatjara 496 elementa interrogativel 611 elemental interrogative Chinese 333 Pitjantjatjara 490 Tagalog 286 Vietnamese 414 elemental interrogatives Vietnamese 412 elevation 625 Ellegård 22 ellipsis 640, 652 Chinese 323 Ellis 5, 8 embedding 34 Emele 39 emotion 600 emotive 591, 593 Japanese 216 enclitic particle Tagalog 290, 299 encoding Japanese 218 Vietnamese 425 Enga 587 Engan 633 Engel 144, 172 English 42, 118, 181, 194, 273, 308, 322, 332, 341, 342, 354, 355, 358, 360, 361, 435, 437, 447, 482, 493, 510, 516, 539, 541, 544, 546, 551, 553, 558, 560, 564, 569, 575, 578, 583, 584, 588, 590–592, 594, 596, 600, 612, 613, 615, 617, 625, 628–630, 632, 640, 648, 649, 651, 652 enhancing Japanese 226 Epithet 360 Chinese 361 equative verb

Vietnamese 426 Erdmann 172, 175, 180 ergative (voice) Chinese 374 ergative case 484 ergative marking 590, 594 ergative model 49, 299, 590, 602, 604 Chinese 376 German 142, 164 Tagalog 269 ergative-absolutive 606 Errington 612 Eskimo-Aleut 620 Estonian 548 Ethnologue 60 Evans 480 Event Chinese 330, 384 eventive Japanese 227 Telugu 465, 468 evidential 654 evidentiality 541, 615, 632, 653 evolution 561 exclamation Telugu 442 exclamative 628 Chinese 332 Tagalog 286 exclusive French 94 Existent 598 Chinese 355 Japanese 222 Vietnamese 422 existential 49, 580, 600, 629, 636 Chinese 341, 355 French 109 Tagalog 272, 289, 295 Telugu 436, 463 Vietnamese 422 existential particle 109 existential type Japanese 217, 222 existential’

 Index

Telugu 447 expanding type Vietnamese 423 expansion 578 expansion type Japanese 217 experiential 311, 572, 574 experiential carrier 229 experiential iconicity 551 experiential mode of expression experiential Theme Pitjantjatjara 492 Telugu 474 explosive Tagalog 268 extension Japanese 226 extent Chinese 378 external Tagalog 266 extraposition German 175

551

F facet noun 588 faceted nominal group 578 fact 592 Tagalog 262 Fang 310, 320, 326 Fasu 633 Fawcett 9, 152, 366, 538 feeling Japanese 216 figure 143, 207 Pitjantjatjara 490, 506 figure type 581 Pitjantjatjara 506 Filipino 255 Finish 594 Finite 24, 46, 313, 332, 538, 545, 624, 648 German 176 Japanese 190, 194 ordering 93, 146, 150, 622

finiteness Telugu 436 Finnish 572, 582, 583, 589, 601, 618, 629 Finno-Ugric 617, 629 Firbas 176, 181 Firth 2, 6, 9, 11, 20, 41 Fitzgerald 480 fixed word order 553 Flämig 144, 152, 172 floating quantifier 562 flow of event 578 flow of events 575, 580 flow of information 635 flow of interaction 610 focal prominence 560 Focus 637, 649 focus Telugu 435 focus affix Tagalog 265, 289 focus system Tagalog 258, 284 Foley 481, 584, 587, 593, 625, 633, 635 foot-timed 489 force Pitjantjatjara 494, 496 Ford 41 Fore 618 foregrounded Pitjantjatjara 525 formality 611 German 146 Fox 638 Frühneuhochschdeutsch 139 fractal pattern 657 free 612, 614 free clause 546 free word order 553 Frei 374 French 7, 55, 212, 541, 544, 547, 551, 558, 564, 568, 569, 579, 592, 593, 596, 599, 600, 605, 612, 615–617, 619, 620, 622, 630, 632, 634, 638, 648, 649, 651

Index 

Fries 51, 131, 230, 231, 246, 258, 283, 475, 549, 558, 638, 639 Fukui 206 Fula 612 function 34 Chinese 320 function-rank matrix 42, 311, 538 fusional 2 G Gàn 305 Gao 310 Gary 95 Gaulish 77 Gender-Number-person Telugu 435 generic structure 131 Gengogaku Kenkyukai 224 genitive 570, 572, 589, 594 German 152, 158 Pitjantjatjara 485, 519 genre 20 Georgian 653 German x, xi, 7, 13, 62, 78, 139–147, 149–153, 156, 159, 160, 162–166, 169, 172–181, 308, 539, 541, 544, 546, 547, 551, 552, 556, 565, 568–574, 577, 582–586, 588, 589, 592–594, 596, 599–601, 605, 612–618, 621–625, 630, 632–634, 638, 640, 643, 648–651 Germanic 78 Ghadessy 51 Gilman 634 Givón 2, 3, 20, 21, 589, 594, 596, 600, 628, 629, 642, 646, 652 Given 52 Chinese 313, 323 French 83 Telugu 471 Vietnamese 400 giving 590 Gleason 58, 480 glossing 481 GNP

Telugu 435 Goal 48, 551, 575, 583, 587, 588, 590, 603 Chinese 371, 374 French 84 German 163 Japanese 223, 225 Pitjantjatjara 512 Vietnamese 417 Gonzalez 256 Goods Tagalog 267 goods-&-services 44, 193, 415, 610 Gooniyandi 582, 601 Gooniyandi See Kunianti 480 Goosse 77 Gotteri 11 grammatical metaphor 308 grammatical prosody 619, 620 grammatical word order 553 grammatical zone 40 grammaticalization 3, 40 grammaticalizaton 22 graphology 35 Greek 309, 477, 592, 629, 649 Greenberg 1, 2, 60 Greenlandic 620 Grimes 58, 581 Grounds Japanese 217 group rank 568 H Hünnemeyer 3, 40, 570 Hànyˇu P¯ıny¯ın 308 hànyˇu p¯ıny¯ın 310 Hakka 305 Halliday 2, 4–10, 15, 16, 20, 29, 31, 39, 41, 42, 44, 48, 49, 51, 59, 82, 84, 87, 98, 106, 112, 118, 121, 135, 143, 152, 162, 164, 175, 186, 194, 199, 207, 212, 221, 246, 295, 298, 308, 309, 311, 314, 316, 317, 320, 322, 332, 370, 372, 374, 376, 383, 399, 421,

 Index

425, 435, 439, 447, 475, 477, 488, 490, 492, 537–539, 550, 553, 558, 560, 564, 569, 570, 575, 577, 578, 580, 581, 584, 588, 593, 595, 598, 600–602, 604, 605, 607, 610, 611, 613–616, 618, 619, 629, 635, 636, 639, 643, 648, 651, 652, 657 Vietnamese 420 Hare-Dene 589 Harris 3, 22, 23, 614, 617, 643, 649, 653 Harvey 480 Hasan 7, 12, 40, 231, 246, 652 Hausa 617 Hawkins 142, 156, 176, 179, 180 Head Chinese 315 Hebrew 618 Heidolph 144, 152, 172 Heine 3, 22, 40, 570 Helbig 152 Helm Petersen 547, 582, 622, 630, 650 Henschel 39 Hidatsa 614 Hindi 550, 569, 572, 582, 590, 619, 642 Hinds 244, 642, 652 hiragana 186 Hixkaryana 654 Hoberg 172 Hockett 23 Hokkien 305 holistic approach 16, 656 Holton 629, 649 honorification 540, 625, 632, 634 Japanese 193, 197, 199, 226 Hopi 611, 655 Hopper 2, 3, 21, 22, 40, 59, 580, 583, 589, 590, 594, 603, 638 Hori 205, 540, 625 hortative 628 Telugu 442 HPSG 23 Hu 310, 311, 323 Hua 618 Huallaga Quechua 616, 620

Hudak 634 Huddleston 7, 90, 93 Hull 570 Humboldt 2, 310 Hungarian 550, 589, 596, 604, 617, 618, 642, 649 hyoozun-go 187 hypotaxis 570 Chinese 366 Tagalog 296 I idea

103, 592 Chinese 366 Tagalog 262 ideational 26, 311, 541, 574 ideational projection 654 ideational Theme 525 Telugu 473 identifiability Japanese 218 identification chains Pitjantjatjara 527 identificatory Telugu 447, 448, 472 Identified German 162 Japanese 219 Telugu 438, 444, 472 Identifier 620 German 162 Japanese 219 Telugu 438, 444, 472 Vietnamese 424 identifying 596, 601, 617, 620, 635 Chinese 363, 365, 372 French 106 German 162 Pitjantjatjara 521 Tagalog 272, 286, 295 Vietnamese 424 identifying Theme German 175 ideographic 306, 309 illative 594

Index 

Impacted 602 imperative 44, 572, 611, 613, 617 French 93 German 147 Pitjantjatjara 487, 489, 494 Tagalog 284 Telugu 440 Vietnamese 415 imperative mood person 494 imperative particle Vietnamese 415 imperfective Chinese 353, 356, 358 impersonal imperative German 147 implicational universal 657 implicational universals 3 implosive Tagalog 268 inanimate 588 inclusive French 94 incorporation 590 indicative 44, 611, 613 Chinese 331 Japanese 194 Pitjantjatjara 487, 489, 490, 496 Tagalog 285 Telugu 441 Vietnamese 411 indicative mood person Pitjantjatjara 496 indicative type Pitjantjatjara 496 Indirect Object German 152, 164 Indo Aryan 477 Indo-Aryan 590 Indo-European 139, 618 Indonesian 544, 619, 620, 634 Inducer Pitjantjatjara 520 information 44, 193, 543, 558, 610, 614, 642, 649, 651 Chinese 326

Pitjantjatjara 530, 532 Telugu 471 Vietnamese 400 information unit 635 Chinese 324 information wave 530 informative Tagalog 286 informaton 51 initial position 560, 642 instance 19 instantiation 628, 656 intellectualization 256 intensive 598 French 106 Japanese 217 Vietnamese 426 intentional Japanese 214 interactant type Japanese 195, 200 interlinear gloss 482 internal Tagalog 266 interpersonal 26, 311, 541, 572 interpersonal Adjunct 546 interpersonal adverb 545 interpersonal clause structure Japanese 206 interpersonal closure 545 interpersonal initiation 545 interpersonal key Japanese 196 interpersonal metaphor 498, 612 interpersonal mode of expression 545 interpersonal particle 545, 560 Vietnamese 411 interpersonal projection 654 interpersonal Theme 649 German 174 Pitjantjatjara 525 Tagalog 295 Telugu 473 Vietnamese 402 interrogative

 Index

Chinese 333 French 87, 89 Japanese 191 Vietnamese 411 interrogative marker Tagalog 285, 286 interrogative particle Tagalog 257 Telugu 438, 443 Vietnamese 413 interrogative suffix 620 interrogative verb 616 Tagalog 287 intonation 335, 554 French 93 Japanese 191 Pitjantjatjara 492 Tagalog 285 intonational marking 228 intonational prominence 642 intransitive Chinese 371 intransitive verb German 165 Japanese 189 inversion marker Tagalog 258 Ishikami 228 isolating 2 Italian 102, 551, 619 J Jìn 305 Jacaltec 542, 544, 610 Jakobson 2, 217 James 20 Janda 590, 598 Japanese 42, 118, 308, 538–541, 544, 545, 550, 551, 557, 560, 562, 569, 571, 574, 583, 588, 592, 593, 595, 596, 598–601, 605, 611, 615, 616, 619, 620, 622, 625, 629, 632, 634, 639, 640, 645, 648, 649, 651, 652, 654, 656 Javanese 612, 632 Jespersen 310

Jiang 310 Johnston 554 Joomon period 186 juncture prosody 545, 655 jussive Chinese 337

K Kâte 640 Kèji¯a 305 Kachru 642 Kalam 575, 584, 588 kanji 186 Kannada 433, 434, 582 Karlsson 629 Kartvelian 566 Karvelian 617 Kasper 39 katakana 186 Keenan 646 Keller 179 Kennedy 306 Kilham 492 Kim 618, 619 kinship system 479 Kirgiz 648 Kiss 475 Klimov 4 Kom 591 Komi 629 Korean 308, 540, 560, 569, 599, 612, 618, 619, 632, 634, 648, 650 Kress 8 Kudo 216, 222, 223 Kunianti 480, 492 Kuniyanti 519 Kuno 228 Kurdish 590 Kurukh 433 Kwa 577, 591, 596, 617, 619 Kwok 342 Kyan 225

Index 

L langue 21 LaPolla 640, 642, 651, 652 Latin 44, 77, 599, 620 Law 479 Layzer 9 Lehman 574 Lemke 9, 41 Levin 590 Lewis 629, 634 lexical tone 560, 614 Chinese 325 lexical zone 40 lexicogrammar 3, 35, 36 lexicogrammatical cartography 16 Li 3, 15, 310, 311, 317, 320, 577, 595, 596, 640, 652 line of negotiation 547 linking particle Tagalog 288 Lisker 434 Lisu 560 Liu 310 local context 230, 244 Location 575, 651 Chinese 369 Pitjantjatjara 510 Telugu 464 Vietnamese 422 location 541 locative 598 locative (case) Pitjantjatjara 485 locative case 583, 594 Lockwood 596 locution 103 Chinese 366 Japanese 210 Vietnamese 421 logical 311, 435, 574 logogenesis 21 logographic 309 Long 361, 376, 379 Longacre 58, 576, 581, 587 Lopez 266

Lower Sepik 593 Lu 310, 332 Luiseño 596 Luseño 650 Lyons 2 Christopher 596, 652 John 572, 600 Lyovin 60 M M˘ın 305 M˘ınbˇei 305 M˘ınnán 305 Ma 310 MacGregor 481, 492 Macintosh 6 Mackridge 629, 649 macro-phenomenal 592 French 104 macrophenomenon Tagalog 262 Maddock 480 major clause Telugu 439 Malagasy 544, 646 Malayalam 433 Malinowski 2 Mallet-Joris 88, 96 Mandarin 305, 342, 380, 385, 539, 560, 618, 652 manifestation 655 Marathi 590 marking 625 Martin 1, 4, 6, 12, 15, 31, 34, 40, 44, 51, 59, 62, 118, 133, 181, 199, 216, 228, 237, 258, 260, 263, 267, 268, 273, 278, 283–285, 287, 288, 290, 295, 296, 323, 374, 481, 494, 506, 508, 515, 539, 544, 545, 550, 558, 559, 574, 581, 583, 587, 595, 597–599, 601, 602, 616–619, 625, 629, 632, 634, 637–640, 642, 644, 648, 650–652, 658 Tagalog 269

 Index

Martin, S.E. 540, 612, 634 material 48, 575, 581, 582, 587, 599 Chinese 313, 355, 356, 358, 365, 371, 380, 383 French 100 German 163 Japanese 223 Pitjantjatjara 514 Tagalog 264 Telugu 447, 450, 464 Vietnamese 417 Mathesius 5, 638, 651 Matter Japanese 210 Mattews 614 Matthiessen 4, 5, 8, 10, 12, 16, 29, 31, 39–41, 45, 48, 49, 51, 81, 84, 99, 111, 135, 143, 152, 186, 207, 209, 212–214, 218, 228–230, 246, 311, 383, 473, 490, 537–539, 545, 555, 559, 564, 574, 575, 578, 580–584, 588, 590, 593, 594, 600–602, 605, 612, 619, 620, 628, 633, 635, 636, 638, 643, 645, 653, 655–657 Maynard 210 Mbembe 7 McClain 654 McDonald 10, 357, 361, 376, 378, 379, 383, 384, 538, 539, 560, 568, 570, 577, 578, 580, 593, 595, 598, 600, 601, 611, 613–616, 618, 629, 648, 652 McGregor 480, 519, 582, 590, 601 meaning potential 19 Means Pitjantjatjara 510 media of expression 554 Medium 49, 604, 625, 651 French 84, 109 Japanese 189, 223, 225, 230, 237 Tagalog 267 Telugu 474 Medium (Pitjantjatjara) 490, 492, 494, 506, 526 Mental Telugu 447

mental 48, 539, 576, 581, 582, 591, 605, 655 Chinese 366, 369, 374, 376 French 103, 111 German 153 Japanese 211 Pitjantjatjara 516, 518 Tagalog 260, 268 Telugu 458 Vietnamese 419 mental type Pitjantjatjara 518 message 51, 228 meta-phenomenal 592 French 104 metafunction 26, 311, 538 metafunction-rank matrix 18, 79 metafunctional diversification 59 metafunctional unification 544 metafunctions 572 metalanguage 39 metaphenomena Tagalog 262 metaredundancy 36, 41 meteorological Chinese 356 French 100, 102 Tagalog 267 Vietnamese 418, 424 method of development 15, 53, 130, 232, 283, 549, 638 MHG 139 middle See AGENCY 189 Mikami 199, 228 Mingrelian 617 miniature clause 569, 578 minor clause Chinese 330 minor Process Chinese 358, 377 Mitchell 21 Mithun 568, 587, 633, 646 Mittelfeld 176 Miyajima 209 Mock 7

Index 

modal Adjunct Pitjantjatjara 496 Vietnamese 402 modal adverb Chinese 339 modal assessment 44, 541, 615, 631, 653 Pitjantjatjara 496 modal auxiliary Chinese 339 modal distance 631, 634 modal particle Chinese 321 German 151 modal responsibility 199, 273, 295, 299, 332, 498 modality 44, 46, 541, 615, 628, 632, 653, 655 Chinese 330, 339 Japanese 192, 193 Tagalog 288 modalization 541 Chinese 339 mode 612 mode of construal 574 mode of meaning 30 modes of expression 553 modes of meaning 553 ModHG 139 modulation 541 Chinese 339 Mohawk 566 Momma 39 Mon-khmer 397 Mongolian 569, 599 Mood 44, 538 discontinuous 150 Japanese 191, 192 mood 24, 44, 540, 541, 543, 572, 610, 613, 615, 617, 628, 629, 634, 648, 649 Chinese 330, 341 French 81, 87, 135 German 142, 144 Japanese 193 Pitjantjatjara 481, 489, 494

Tagalog 257, 284 Telugu 435, 436, 439 verbal 148 Vietnamese 410, 412 mood affix 620 mood clitic 620 Mood element 13, 98, 546, 620 German 149 Mood Interrogator 88 Mood interrogator 81 French 95 mood particle 88, 545, 619 mood system 144 Mood-Residue structure 98 Mood-tag Chinese 330 Moodtag 44, 546, 620 Moore 397 Moravcsik 572, 573, 589 Morel 126 morphological complexity 564 morphology 2 Motsch 144, 152, 172 movement 575 Japanese 227 multidimensional 13 multilingual text generation 537 multiple Theme 649 German 169, 173, 174 Munro 602, 654 Muong 397 Muraki 223 Myers 479, 520, 532 N Na-Dené 588 Nanri 539, 656 Nara period 185 National Foreign Language 435 natural forces 588 Navajo 544, 588 Needham 308 negative 81 Chinese 355 Telugu 436, 448, 462

 Index

negative imperative Chinese 338 negative marker Tagalog 286 negative particle Chinese 341 negative verb 629 Negotiation Japanese 194, 199 negotiation 615 Japanese 193, 194 Negotiator 538, 544, 545, 548, 549, 619, 622, 648 French 81, 94 Japanese 191, 248 Vietnamese 411, 412 Negotiator-Remainder structure French 98 Negotiatory element 622 Vietnamese 411, 412 negotiatory status 612, 625 Nepali 596 Nesbitt 12, 39 Neuhochdeutsch 139 neutral (aspect) Chinese 353, 381 neutral (case) Pitjantjatjara 485 neutral (phase) Chinese 353, 383 neutral (thematic prominence) Pitjantjatjara 525 neutral (voice) Chinese 372 New 52, 544, 616, 625, 637, 642, 649, 651 Chinese 313, 323, 355, 372 French 83 Pitjantjatjara 530 Tagalog 258, 280 Telugu 438, 444 Vietnamese 400 newsworthiness 637 Ngandi 568, 646 Nguyen 616

Nichols 2, 4, 9, 59, 60, 480, 589, 607, 632, 650 Niederdeutsch 139 Niger-Congo 577, 579, 591, 596, 617, 619 Nishio 216 nominal clause 596 nominal group 482, 580, 591, 596, 598, 599 Chinese 315 Japanese 224 Pitjantjatjara 485, 498, 510 Vietnamese 418, 423, 425 nominal suffix Pitjantjatjara 510 nominalisation Telugu 444, 472 nominative 572, 589, 594, 599 German 150, 152, 153, 163 Pitjantjatjara 490 Telugu 460–462 nominative-accusative 590, 603 non-intensive French 107 non-Pama-Nyungan 480 non-specific 652 nonpolarisable 628 Telugu 436, 439 Norman 306, 338, 381 North Dakota 614 North Dravidian 433 noun Tagalog 271 nub of argument 204 nuclear transitivity 99 Japanese 207 nucleus 83 number 482 Pitjantjatjara 486 nya-interrogative Pitjantjatjara 496 Nyungic 480 Nzema 7

Index 

O O’Grady 480 O’Toole 8 oblique 572, 594 obviousness Pitjantjatjara 494 Ochs 3, 59 Okuda 194, 199, 228 Old Japanese 185 Ono 3 Onset 308, 309 Ootsuki 228 Ootuki 237 operative 589, 651 Telugu 447 operative-receptive orientation Telugu 447, 463 operative-receptive distinction 435 optative 612, 628 Chinese 338 Japanese 195, 214 Telugu 442 orbital 29, 551 orientation 610 Pitjantjatjara 494 orienter 230 Otanes 60, 256, 258, 266, 277, 288 Ouyang 366 P p¯ıny¯ın 310 packaging 635 Pagliuca 2, 3, 22, 571 pain 598 Painter 10, 581 Palmer 2, 59, 604, 632, 654 Pama-Nyungan 480 Panare 566 Papuan 587, 610, 618, 641 Papuan languages 480, 530, 584, 591, 593, 652 paradigmatic axis 22 paradigmatic relation 23 parataxis Chinese 366

parole 21 participant 48, 551, 572, 574, 580 Japanese 188 Pitjantjatjara 490, 509 Tagalog 260, 286 Vietnamese 417 particle 556 Chinese 311 negative 629 particulate 29 partitive 589 Pashto 590 passive Chinese 372 German 179 passivization German 153, 164 path 575 Patten 40 Pawley 575, 584 Payne 60, 566 John 618 Thomas 1, 2, 566, 572, 591, 610, 616, 618, 632, 637 Pedersen 558 perception German 155 Pitjantjatjara 519 Tagalog 261, 263 perceptive 633 Chinese 370 Japanese 215 perfective 590, 607 Chinese 353, 355, 357, 359, 374, 380 performance 21 periodic 30 periodicity 246 periphery 83 Perkins 2, 3, 22, 571 person 634 Pitjantjatjara 486 personal pronoun Pitjantjatjara 486, 526 Peters 133

 Index

phase Chinese 336, 353, 371, 379, 380 phenomenal French 104 phenomenality Vietnamese 420 phenomenalization Pitjantjatjara 518 Phenomenon 48, 583, 591 Chinese 369 French 104, 111 German 153 Japanese 214, 216 Pitjantjatjara 518 Vietnamese 419 Philippaki-Warburton 629, 649 Philippine 255 phonological prosody 545, 619, 620 phonology 35 phrase 569 phylogenesis 21, 559 physical system 9 physiological state 598 Pitjantjatjara 12, 38, 80, 212, 538, 581, 583, 588, 594–596, 601, 605, 612, 613, 619, 625, 649, 652 Pitjatjantjara 124 pivot 625 Place Pitjantjatjara 510 point of departure 230 polar interrogative 611, 615, 629 Chinese 334 German 179 Vietnamese 413 polar interrogatives Vietnamese 412 polarisable Telugu 436, 439 Polarity 549 polarity 13, 20, 44, 46, 596, 615, 625 Chinese 330, 341 Japanese 192, 193, 196, 204 Tagalog 289 Polenz 152

polite Telugu 437 politeness 540, 611, 632, 634 German 148 Japanese 192, 193, 196, 199, 226 polysynthesis 565, 646 polysynthetic 2, 55, 135 Portuguese 551 positive Telugu 436 positive bias 629 Possession Pitjantjatjara 510 possession Chinese 355 possessive 598 Chinese 357, 358 French 107 Japanese 221, 222 Telugu 447, 448, 451, 456 Vietnamese 426 post-structuralism 21 postnoun Chinese 316 postposition Japanese 188 postpositional phrase 569 Japanese 224 postverb Chinese 330 potent 588 potential 19 pragmatic word order 553 Prague School 2, 5, 181, 255 Prakasam 7, 435, 436, 475, 477, 540, 551, 582, 593, 596, 598, 600, 620, 628–630, 648 Prakasam’s 594 predicated theme French 122 German 174 Predicator 47, 538, 544, 545, 548, 619, 622, 623, 648, 649 Chinese 313, 330, 332, 337, 341 French 93

Index 

Japanese 190, 191, 194, 198, 204, 248 Vietnamese 411, 412 prediction 541, 632 Prentice 634 prepositional phrase 569 prepositive verb Chinese 317 presentative 109, 636 Chinese 356 German 177 probability 20 Pitjantjatjara 496 probability (systemic) 628 Process 551, 590, 599 Chinese 313, 317, 373, 374 Japanese 189 Pitjantjatjara 509, 527 Tagalog 267 Vietnamese 423 process 48, 580 Vietnamese 417 process type 573, 580, 581, 629, 656 Chinese 354 French 99, 115 German 152 Japanese 189, 207 Tagalog 260 Telugu 447 Vietnamese 428 process types Pitjantjatjara 506 Process/Attribute Vietnamese 423 profile of unfolding 595 progressive Chinese 380 prohibitive Japanese 194 projected clause Chinese 369 projecting clause French 103 projection 542, 582, 592, 601, 602, 653 Chinese 366

Japanese 210, 213, 220 Pitjantjatjara 516 Tagalog 261 prominence marker 548 pronominal affix 550 pronominal affixe 652 pronominal clitic 652 pronoun 652 proposal 44, 87, 194, 200, 214, 284, 288, 290, 330, 489, 516, 592, 624, 625 proposition 44, 87, 194, 200, 214, 284, 288, 330, 489, 516, 592, 624, 625 prosodic 30, 81, 299, 545 prosodic theory 7 prosody grammatical 89 protolanguage 581, 636 pseudo-cleft 643 pseudo-verb Tagalog 288 Pulleyblank 617 Punjabi 590 Purpose Pitjantjatjara 510

Q Qu-element 87, 89 Quality Pitjantjatjara 510 quantum of change 575, 580 quantum of exchange 610 quantum of information 51, 228, 635 Quechua 541, 610, 620, 633 question word interrogative Telugu 441 question-word Telugu 438 quotative mood 653 quotative particle 653 quoting 601 Chinese 366 Pitjantjatjara 516

 Index

R raising construction German 144 Ramakrishna Reddy 433 Ramm 173, 177 Ramos 259, 265, 266 Ranganadhacharyulu 433 Range 49, 506, 651 Chinese 374, 375 French 112 Pitjantjatjara 490, 491, 506, 527 Vietnamese 418 rank 32, 311, 482, 483, 538 rank distribution 556 rank scale 38, 561, 575, 577 Japanese 187 rank-based variation 562 reactance 481, 583 reaction Pitjantjatjara 519 Tagalog 261, 263 Reaction’ Japanese 216 realization 23 realization statement 24 realizational difference 482 Reason Pitjantjatjara 510 Receiver Chinese 368 German 160 Japanese 209 Pitjantjatjara 516 Vietnamese 420 receptive 651 Recipient 48, 587, 589 Japanese 226 Vietnamese 418 recognition criterion 231, 246, 248, 506, 625 recoverability 639 Reesink 530 reference 640, 651 referential presumption 652 reflexive

French 110, 113 German 165 reflexive verb 605 register 20 relation type Vietnamese 426 relational 48, 581, 595, 605, 653 Chinese 354, 357, 369, 376, 380 French 106, 113 German 154, 161 Japanese 216, 217 Pitjantjatjara 492, 521 Tagalog 271 relative marker 643 relative sequence 228, 555 Remainder French 94 Vietnamese 411, 417 Ren 310, 361 reporting 601 Chinese 366 Pitjantjatjara 516 reprise absolute Theme French 120 Residue 44, 620 resultative phase Chinese 353, 371 Rheme 51 Chinese 313, 321 Japanese 189 Telugu 471 Vietnamese 400, 409 Rhyme 308, 309 Rickard 78 Ritchie 40 Robins 23 Role Pitjantjatjara 510 Romance 305 Romance languages 102 Romanian 551 Rose 20, 124, 473, 481, 524, 532, 538, 553, 581, 588, 594–596, 601, 605, 612, 613, 625, 649 Russian 181, 448, 477, 541, 596, 648

Index 

Telugu 463 Ryukuan dialects 186 S Sadock 59, 572, 611–615, 618, 620, 622, 629, 632 SAE 256, 259, 510 Samoan 594, 607 Sampson 306 Sanskrit 309, 434 Sanskrit linguistics 475 Sapir 2, 310, 564 Saussure 21 Sayer 516, 601, 654 Chinese 368 German 160 Japanese 209 Pitjantjatjara 516 Vietnamese 420 Schachter 60, 256, 258, 266, 277, 283, 288, 295 Schegloff 3, 59 Schlegel 2 Schmidt 139 Scope 588 Japanese 223, 228 Scott 530 segmental marking 554, 556 self-perception 155 semantics 3, 35 semiotic address 538 semiotic system 9, 10 semogenesis 21 Senser 48, 582, 591 Chinese 369 French 104 German 153 Japanese 212 Pitjantjatjara 509, 516 Vietnamese 419 sensing 581, 591 sensing type Vietnamese 420 sequence 143, 554, 555, 575 sequential marking 228

Serbo-Croatian 650 serial 29 serial time 578 serial verb construction 480, 515, 577 Chinese 314, 385 serial verb constructions 570 serial-verb construction 588 Sesotho 625 Sgall 2 Sheldrake 32 Sherpa 582, 594 Shibatani 1, 3, 185, 186, 228 Shopen 1, 2 Shore 582, 583, 589, 601 sign 35 signifying Pitjantjatjara 506, 516 Sinitic 305 sino-centric 7 Sino-Tibetan 594, 616 Siouan 614 situation types 582 Slavic 590, 598 Smedegaard 547, 582, 622, 630, 650 social hierarchy 200 social system 9 Somali 544 South Asian Linguistic Area 477 South Asian linguistic area 582 South Dravidian 433 SOV 79, 544 Japanese 247 Spanish 548, 551, 596, 599, 612, 619, 630, 655 spatiality 541, 609 speaker-inclusion German 148 specific 652 specificity 596, 637 Japanese 218 split case marking 590, 607 Standard Average European 256 Stanner 480 stative verb 599 Chinese 358

 Index

Steele 650 Steever 632, 633 Steiner 8, 20, 144, 152, 173, 177, 178, 539, 540, 547, 572, 573, 576, 582, 588, 593, 601, 612, 618, 621, 622, 625, 648, 650 stratification 35, 628, 656 Strevens 6 structural conjunction Vietnamese 405 structural realization 538 structure 22 structure-based typology 3 Subject 12, 24, 46, 259, 295, 299, 494, 538, 544, 572, 611, 618, 624, 632, 634, 648, 651 Chinese 320, 330, 332, 338, 364 French 82, 102 German 142, 148, 152, 160, 161, 178, 180 Japanese 195, 204, 206, 248 Telugu 436 Vietnamese 401, 417 Subject Reflex Telugu 435 subject–reflex Telugu 437 Subject-less clause German 146 subject-less clause Chinese 332 subjectlessness Japanese 205 subjunctive 592, 612 subordinating particle Chinese 315, 360, 372 Subrahmanyam 433 substitution 652 German 149 suggestion 628 Telugu 442 suppositive Japanese 194 Suzuki 199, 224, 228 SVO 79, 544

Swahili 596 Swedish 547, 568, 572, 599, 600, 630 swing categories 600 switch reference 637 switch-reference 641 syllabary Chinese 306 syndrome 4 syntactic function 152, 169 syntagmatic relation 23 syntagmatic sequence 544 synthetic 140 system 22 system network 22 mediated 181 system-based typology 3 system-structure theory 7 systemic functional theory 1 systemic organization 59, 628, 656 systems thinking 17 T tag Tagalog 286 tag-interrogative Telugu 441 Tagalog 4, 12, 38, 118, 212, 539, 541, 544, 545, 550, 551, 559, 560, 583, 595, 596, 598, 599, 601, 602, 616–620, 625, 629, 632, 637, 640, 642, 645, 648–651, 653, 656 Tagalogs 255 tagging German 146, 148 Pitjantjatjara 496 Tahitian 544 tail-head linkage 530 Talmy 587 Tamil 433, 434, 632, 633, 635 Tao 325 Target Chinese 368 Japanese 210 Teich 8, 12, 15, 20, 39, 144, 152, 537, 539, 547, 572, 573, 576, 582, 588,

Index 

593, 601, 612, 618, 621, 622, 625, 638, 648, 650 Telugu 7, 540, 551, 569, 582, 583, 593, 594, 596, 598–600, 616, 619, 620, 628–630, 648, 649 temporal serialization 11 temporal taxonomy 11 temporality 541, 653 Teng 378 tenor 193, 200, 226, 494, 540, 612, 625 tense 578, 653 Pitjantjatjara 484 tense/aspect 564, 596, 629 Teramura 228 Teruya 42, 118, 188, 208, 214, 538–540, 544, 545, 550, 557, 560, 574, 583, 588, 592, 593, 595, 596, 598–601, 611, 616, 625, 633, 634, 639, 648, 652, 653, 655 Tetum 570 text type 20 textual 26, 311, 540, 572, 616, 635 textual mode of expression 548 textual status 637 textual Theme 649 German 174 Pitjantjatjara 525 Telugu 473 Vietnamese 404 textual transition 637 Thai 14, 397, 544, 619, 632, 634 Minh Duc 398, 401, 411, 417, 421, 427, 428, 591, 601, 622, 649 Vietnamese 420, 423 thematic bracketing Chinese 324 thematic equative 643 thematic progression 236 thematic prominence 560 thematic structure layers of 121 thematicity 637 Theme 51, 53, 544, 598, 616, 625, 637, 642, 643 Chinese 313, 320, 332, 372

French 85, 119 German 169 Japanese 188, 228, 248 Pitjantjatjara 492 Tagalog 256, 258, 280 Telugu 471, 473 Vietnamese 399 theme 51, 543, 558, 617, 642, 645, 649, 651–653 Chinese 326 French 122 German 143, 172 Japanese 188 Pitjantjatjara 481, 492, 525, 532 Tagalog 258, 280 Telugu 435, 471 Vietnamese 399 theme marker 228 theme predication 636, 643, 649 theme prominence Pitjantjatjara 529 theme-based receptive Telugu 447, 462 theme-markedness German 177 theme-predicated 617 theoretical category 311 theory 6, 8, 42, 118, 428, 537, 656 Thompson 2, 3, 15, 21, 41, 59, 310, 311, 317, 320, 558, 577, 580, 589, 590, 594–596, 603, 652 Thompson’s 583 Thompson, L. 616 Thomson 232, 640 Thorne 618 Tibetan 616, 618 Tibeto-Burman 542, 562, 610 Time Pitjantjatjara 510 Todd 79 Token 48, 602, 617 Chinese 364 French 106 Japanese 218 Tagalog 286, 295

 Index

Telugu 438, 447 tone 44, 613, 619 Pitjantjatjara 488, 489 Telugu 436, 442, 473 tone group Chinese 324 tone language 560 tone-reduced 332 Chinese 337 toneless Chinese 337 Tongan 544, 590, 630 tonic prominence 549 Tonkinson 479, 532 topic 320, 492 topic continuity 244 topic prominent 258 topical Theme 80, 119, 127, 231, 232, 246, 294, 295, 297, 320, 322, 401, 402, 407, 549–551, 556, 625, 642, 649, 651 Japanese 231 Tagalog 295 Vietnamese 401 topical theme 651 Tozzer 14 transfer Japanese 226 transfer of possession 590 transitive Chinese 371 transitive model 49, 299, 590, 602 German 142, 164 Tagalog 269 transitive verb Japanese 189 Transitivity French 83 transitivity 48, 538, 541, 575, 580, 651, 653 Chinese 353, 354, 379 French 99, 135 German 142, 152, 179 Japanese 189, 207 Pitjantjatjara 481, 490, 506, 509

Tagalog 256, 258 Telugu 435 transitivity hypothesis 580, 589, 603 translation 537, 656 Traugott 3, 22, 40 Trevarthen 10 Trique 576 Tsao 320, 321 Tucanoan 632 Tullao 273 Turkic 599, 629 Turkish 544, 569, 629, 634 Tuscarora 646 Tuyuca 632 type of sensing 539, 594, 656 typology 1, 8 Tzotzil 560 U uddesŸ ya 475 Uemura 185, 186 Ultan 59, 60, 619 unbiassed 615 Chinese 334 universal 59 universal grammar 3 unmarked Theme German 172 Telugu 474 Uralic 624 Urdu 7, 590 Uren 7, 90, 93 Uto-Aztecan 650 V Vakh Khanty 642 Value 48, 602, 617 Chinese 364 French 106 Japanese 218 Tagalog 286, 295 Telugu 438, 447 Vietnamese 424 van Leeuwen 8

Index 

Van Valin 625, 635, 640, 642, 651, 652 Veel 587 Venkateshwara Sastry 434 verb negative 630 verb class Pitjantjatjara 484 verb compounding 577 verb conjugation negative 630 verbal 49, 576, 593, 600, 633, 653, 655 Chinese 366, 367, 374 French 103, 113 German 158 Japanese 209, 220 Pitjantjatjara 516 Vietnamese 420 verbal affix 583 verbal aspect Chinese 380 verbal behaviour Japanese 209 verbal clause 596 verbal group 577, 580, 651 Chinese 314, 330 German 144 Japanese 189, 192, 199 Telugu 436 Vietnamese 417 verbal group complex 570 verbal groups 580 verbal particle Chinese 330 verbal saying Japanese 209 verbal suffix Pitjantjatjara 484 verbalization Vietnamese 421 Verbalklammer 141 verbed Telugu 451, 463 verbed clause Telugu 438 Verbiage

Chinese 368 French 103 German 158 Japanese 210 Vietnamese 420 verbless 448 Telugu 451 verbless clause Telugu 435 verbless’ clause Telugu 437 Vian 119 Viberg 587, 600 vidheya 475 Vietnamese 14, 38, 55, 308, 541, 544, 548, 551, 553, 569, 583, 591, 596, 601, 605, 611, 616, 620, 622, 643, 649 Vocative Japanese 231 vocative Telugu 437 voice 52, 259, 540, 637, 651 Chinese 371, 372 Japanese 229 Vorfeld 150, 172 VOS 280, 544, 642, 646 VSO 544 Vuong 397 W w-interrogative 179 wényán 306 Wú 305 Walter 78 Wang 310, 374, 376, 378 Warao 571 Waris 587 Watters 612 wave 228, 246 Weber 541, 610, 616, 620, 633 Weinrich 144, 172 Wells 23 Welsh 618, 643 Weri 640, 641, 652 West-Coast functionalism 1, 21

 Index

Western Desert 479 Wh element 546, 553, 648, 649 wh-interrogative 611, 615, 649 Whaley 1, 2, 60, 619, 628, 629 Whitney 310 Whorf 256, 481, 510, 655 Wierzbicka 632 Wik-Munkan 492 Winestock 379 Witherspoon 588 word 562 Chinese 318 word order 544, 553, 628 German 140, 142, 143, 150 word rank 568 writing system Chinese 306 Japanese 186 Vietnamese 397 Wurm 481 Wurm & Hale 480 X Xi¯ang 305

Y Yallop 8 Yaqui 654 Yayoi culture 185 yes-no interrogative Pitjantjatjara 490 Telugu 441 Yimas 593, 610 Yip 614 Yoruba 617 Yuè 305 Yukagir 569 Z Zeng 4, 8, 40, 537, 539, 656 zero reference Chinese 323 zero subject 332 Zhang 310, 311, 321 Zhou 366, 376, 379 Zhu 310, 311 Zustandspassiv 154 Zwicky 59, 572, 611–615, 618, 620, 622, 629, 632

CURRENT ISSUES IN LINGUISTIC THEORY

E. F. K. Koerner, Editor

Zentrum für Allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft, Typologie und Universalienforschung, Berlin [email protected] Current Issues in Linguistic Theory (CILT) is a theory-oriented series which welcomes contributions from scholars who have significant proposals to make towards the advancement of our understanding of language, its structure, functioning and development. CILT has been established in order to provide a forum for the presentation and discussion of linguistic opinions of scholars who do not necessarily accept the prevailing mode of thought in linguistic science. It offers an outlet for meaningful contributions to the current linguistic debate, and furnishes the diversity of opinion which a healthy discipline must have. A complete list of titles in this series can be found on the publishers website, www.benjamins.com 221 D’HULST, Yves, Johan ROORYCK and Jan SCHROTEN (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 1999. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’ 1999, Leiden, 9–11 December 1999. 2001. viii, 406 pp. 222 HERSCHENSOHN, Julia, Enrique MALLÉN and Karen ZAGONA (eds.): Features and Interfaces in Romance. Essays in honor of Heles Contreras. 2001. xiv, 302 pp. 223 FANEGO, Teresa, Javier PÉREZ-GUERRA and María José LÓPEZ-COUZO (eds.): English Historical Syntax and Morphology. Selected papers from 11 ICEHL, Santiago de Compostela, 7–11 September 2000. Volume 1. 2002. x, 306 pp. 224 FANEGO, Teresa, Belén MÉNDEZ-NAYA and Elena SEOANE (eds.): Sounds, Words, Texts and Change. Selected papers from 11 ICEHL, Santiago de Compostela, 7–11 September 2000. Volume 2. 2002. x, 310 pp. 225 SHAHIN, Kimary N.: Postvelar Harmony. 2003. viii, 344 pp. 226 LEVIN, Saul: Semitic and Indo-European. Volume II: Comparative morphology, syntax and phonetics. 2002. xviii, 592 pp. 227 FAVA, Elisabetta (ed.): Clinical Linguistics. Theory and applications in speech pathology and therapy. 2002. xxiv, 353 pp. 228 NEVIN, Bruce E. (ed.): The Legacy of Zellig Harris. Language and information into the 21st century. Volume 1: Philosophy of science, syntax and semantics. 2002. xxxvi, 323 pp. 229 NEVIN, Bruce E. and Stephen B. JOHNSON (eds.): The Legacy of Zellig Harris. Language and information into the 21st century. Volume 2: Mathematics and computability of language. 2002. xx, 312 pp. 230 PARKINSON, Dilworth B. and Elabbas BENMAMOUN (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume XIII-XIV: Stanford, 1999 and Berkeley, California 2000. 2002. xiv, 250 pp. 231 CRAVENS, Thomas D.: Comparative Historical Dialectology. Italo-Romance clues to Ibero-Romance sound change. 2002. xii, 163 pp. 232 BEYSSADE, Claire, Reineke BOK-BENNEMA, Frank DRIJKONINGEN and Paola MONACHESI (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2000. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’ 2000, Utrecht, 30 November–2 December. 2002. viii, 354 pp. 233 WEIJER, Jeroen van de, Vincent J. van HEUVEN and Harry van der HULST (eds.): The Phonological Spectrum. Volume I: Segmental structure. 2003. x, 308 pp. 234 WEIJER, Jeroen van de, Vincent J. van HEUVEN and Harry van der HULST (eds.): The Phonological Spectrum. Volume II: Suprasegmental structure. 2003. x, 264 pp. 235 LINN, Andrew R. and Nicola McLELLAND (eds.): Standardization. Studies from the Germanic languages. 2002. xii, 258 pp. 236 SIMON-VANDENBERGEN, Anne-Marie, Miriam TAVERNIERS and Louise J. RAVELLI (eds.): Grammatical Metaphor. Views from systemic functional linguistics. 2003. vi, 453 pp. 237 BLAKE, Barry J. and Kate BURRIDGE (eds.): Historical Linguistics 2001. Selected papers from the 15th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Melbourne, 13–17 August 2001. Editorial Assistant: Jo Taylor. 2003. x, 444 pp. 238 NÚÑEZ-CEDEÑO, Rafael, Luis LÓPEZ and Richard CAMERON (eds.): A Romance Perspective on Language Knowledge and Use. Selected papers from the 31st Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Chicago, 19–22 April 2001. 2003. xvi, 386 pp.

239 ANDERSEN, Henning (ed.): Language Contacts in Prehistory. Studies in Stratigraphy. Papers from the Workshop on Linguistic Stratigraphy and Prehistory at the Fifteenth International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Melbourne, 17 August 2001. 2003. viii, 292 pp. 240 JANSE, Mark and Sijmen TOL (eds.): Language Death and Language Maintenance. Theoretical, practical and descriptive approaches. With the assistance of Vincent Hendriks. 2003. xviii, 244 pp. 241 LECARME, Jacqueline (ed.): Research in Afroasiatic Grammar II. Selected papers from the Fifth Conference on Afroasiatic Languages, Paris, 2000. 2003. viii, 550 pp. 242 SEUREN, Pieter A.M. and Gerard KEMPEN (eds.): Verb Constructions in German and Dutch. 2003. vi, 316 pp. 243 CUYCKENS, Hubert, Thomas BERG, René DIRVEN and Klaus-Uwe PANTHER (eds.): Motivation in Language. Studies in honor of Günter Radden. 2003. xxvi, 403 pp. 244 PÉREZ-LEROUX, Ana Teresa and Yves ROBERGE (eds.): Romance Linguistics. Theory and Acquisition. Selected papers from the 32nd Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Toronto, April 2002. 2003. viii, 388 pp. 245 QUER, Josep, Jan SCHROTEN, Mauro SCORRETTI, Petra SLEEMAN and Els VERHEUGD (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2001. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’, Amsterdam, 6–8 December 2001. 2003. viii, 355 pp. 246 HOLISKY, Dee Ann and Kevin TUITE (eds.): Current Trends in Caucasian, East European and Inner Asian Linguistics. Papers in honor of Howard I. Aronson. 2003. xxviii, 426 pp. 247 PARKINSON, Dilworth B. and Samira FARWANEH (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics XV. Papers from the Fifteenth Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics, Salt Lake City 2001. 2003. x, 214 pp. 248 WEIGAND, Edda (ed.): Emotion in Dialogic Interaction. Advances in the complex. 2004. xii, 284 pp. 249 BOWERN, Claire and Harold KOCH (eds.): Australian Languages. Classification and the comparative method. 2004. xii, 377 pp. (incl. CD-Rom). 250 JENSEN, John T.: Principles of Generative Phonology. An introduction. 2004. xii, 324 pp. 251 KAY, Christian J., Simon HOROBIN and Jeremy J. SMITH (eds.): New Perspectives on English Historical Linguistics. Selected papers from 12 ICEHL, Glasgow, 21–26 August 2002. Volume I: Syntax and Morphology. 2004. x, 264 pp. 252 KAY, Christian J., Carole HOUGH and Irené WOTHERSPOON (eds.): New Perspectives on English Historical Linguistics. Selected papers from 12 ICEHL, Glasgow, 21–26 August 2002. Volume II: Lexis and Transmission. 2004. xii, 273 pp. 253 CAFFAREL, Alice, J.R. MARTIN and Christian M.I.M. MATTHIESSEN (eds.): Language Typology. A functional perspective. 2004. xiv, 702 pp. 254 BALDI, Philip and Pietro U. DINI (eds.): Studies in Baltic and Indo-European Linguistics. In honor of William R. Schmalstieg. 2004. xlvi, 302 pp. 255 MEULEN, Alice ter and Werner ABRAHAM (eds.): The Composition of Meaning. From lexeme to discourse. 2004. vi, 232 pp. 256 BOK-BENNEMA, Reineke, Bart HOLLEBRANDSE, Brigitte KAMPERS-MANHE and Petra SLEEMAN (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2002. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’, Groningen, 28–30 November 2002. 2004. viii, 273 pp. 257 FORTESCUE, Michael, Eva Skafte JENSEN, Jens Erik MOGENSEN and Lene SCHØSLER (eds.): Historical Linguistics 2003. Selected papers from the 16th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Copenhagen, 11–15 August 2003. x, 315 pp. + index. Expected Winter 04-05 258 AUGER, Julie, J. Clancy CLEMENTS and Barbara VANCE (eds.): Contemporary Approaches to Romance Linguistics. Selected Papers from the 33rd Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Bloomington, Indiana, April 2003. With the assistance of Rachel T. Anderson. 2004. viii, 404 pp. 259 CARR, Philip, Jacques DURAND and Colin J. EWEN (eds.): Headhood, Elements, Specification and Contrastivity. Phonological papers in honour of John Anderson. 2004. 430 pp. 260 NICOLOV, Nicolas, Kalina BONTCHEVA, Galia ANGELOVA and Ruslan MITKOV (eds.): Recent Advances in Natural Language Processing III. Selected papers from RANLP 2003. 2004. xii, 402 pp. 261 KAY, Christian J. and Jeremy J. SMITH (eds.): Categorization in the History of English. 2004. xiii, 268 pp. 262 VAJDA, Edward J. (ed.): Languages and Prehistory of Central Siberia. 2004. x, 275 pp. 263 BRANCO, António, Tony McENERY and Ruslan MITKOV (eds.): Anaphora Processing. Linguistic, cognitive and computational modelling. x, 442 pp. + index. Expected Winter 04-05

Language Typology: A Functional Perspective

A Functional View of Language

Language Complexity: Typology, contact, change

Possible and Probable Languages: A Generative Perspective on Linguistic Typology

Grammatical Relations: A Cross-Linguistic Perspective on Their Syntax and Semantics (Empirical Approaches to Language Typology)

Creoles, their Substrates, and Language Typology

Second Language Teacher Education: A Sociocultural Perspective

Organizational Discourse: A Language-Ideology-Power Perspective

Creoles, their Substrates, and Language Typology (Typological Studies in Language)

Structure in Language: A Dynamic Perspective

A Typology of Purpose Clauses (Typological Studies in Language)

Language Complexity: Typology, contact, change (Studies in Language Companion Series)

The Sociology of African American Language: A Language Planning Perspective

Word: A Cross-linguistic Typology

Word: A Cross-linguistic Typology

Adjective Classes: A Cross-Linguistic Typology (Explorations in Linguistic Typology)

Grammatical Borrowing in Cross-Linguistic Perspective (Empirical Approaches to Language Typology)

Language Acquisition of a Bilingual Child: A Sociolinguistic Perspective

Classroom Discourse Analysis: A Functional Perspective (Open Linguistics Series)

Malaria: A Hematological Perspective: A Hematological Perspective