Grammar from the Human Perspective: Case, Space and Person in Finnish (Amsterdam Studies in the Theory and History of Linguistic Science, Series IV: Current Issues in Linguistic Theory)

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Author: Marja-Liisa Helasvuo | Lyle Campbell

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Grammar from the Human Perspective

AMSTERDAM STUDIES IN THE THEORY AND HISTORY OF LINGUISTIC SCIENCE General Editor E.F.K. KOERNER (Zentrum für Allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft, Typologie und Universalienforschung, Berlin) Series IV – CURRENT ISSUES IN LINGUISTIC THEORY Advisory Editorial Board Lyle Campbell (Salt Lake City); 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 277

Marja-Liisa Helasvuo and Lyle Campbell (eds.) Grammar from the Human Perspective. Case, space and person in Finnish.

Grammar from the Human Perspective Case, space and person in Finnish

Edited by

Marja-Liisa Helasvuo University of Turku

Lyle Campbell University of Utah

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 Z39.48-1984.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Grammar from the human perspective : case, space and person in Finnish / edited by Marja-Liisa Helasvuo, Lyle Campbell. p. cm. -- (Amsterdam studies in the theory and history of linguistic science. Series IV, Current issues in linguistic theory, ISSN 0304-0763 ; v. 277) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Finnish language--Grammar. 2. Finnish language--Case. 3. Finnish language--Person. 4. Space and time in language. PH133.G73 2006 494/.541--dc22 2006043055 ISBN 90 272 4792 7 (Hb; alk. paper) © 2006 – John Benjamins B.V. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publisher. John Benjamins Publishing Co. • P.O.Box 36224 • 1020 ME Amsterdam • The Netherlands John Benjamins North America • P.O.Box 27519 • Philadelphia PA 19118-0519 • USA

CONTENTS

Abbreviations & transcription symbols Acknowledgements Introduction: Grammar from the human perspective Marja-Liisa Helasvuo and Lyle Campbell An introduction to Finnish spatial relations: Local cases and adpositions Tuomas Huumo and Krista Ojutkangas

vii ix 1

11

Part I: Space and location Spatial axes in language and conceptualization: The case of bidirectional constructions Krista Ojutkangas

21

“I woke up from the sofa”: Subjective directionality in Finnish expressions of a spatio-cognitive transfer Tuomas Huumo

41

Metonymy in locatives of state Tiina Onikki-Rantajääskö

67

Part II: The human perspective Body part names and grammaticalization Toni Suutari

101

On distinguishing between recipient and beneficiary in Finnish Seppo Kittilä

129

Oblique mentions of human referents in Finnish conversation: The effects of prominence in discourse and grammar Ritva Laury

153

vi

CONTENTS

Part III: Person Person in Finnish: Paradigmatic and syntagmatic relations in interaction Marja-Liisa Helasvuo and Lea Laitinen

173

Zero person in Finnish: A grammatical resource for construing human reference Lea Laitinen

209

Passive — personal or impersonal? A Finnish perspective Marja-Liisa Helasvuo

233

Master List of References

257

Index of Subjects and Terms

277

Abbreviations ABL Ablative case (‘from’) ABS Absolutive case ACC Accusative case ACT Active voice ADE Adessive case (‘on, at’) ADJ Adjectival derivational suffix ALL Allative case (‘onto, towards’) CLT Clitic COND Conditional mood ELA Elative case (‘from’) ERG Ergative case GEN Genitive case ESS Essive case (‘as, at, in’) ILL Illative (‘to, into’) IMP Imperative mood INE Inessive case (‘in’) INF Infinitive LOG Logophoric pronoun NOM Nominative case NEG Negation element (verb/particle) NMLZ Nominalizing suffix PASS Passive voice PST Past tense PCTP Participle PERS Personal suffix (the so-called “4th person”) of the simple passive PL Plural PRS Present tense PTV Partitive case PX Possessive suffix Q Question clitic SG Singular SUP Superlative suffix TRA Translative case (‘into’) 1SG First person singular (likewise second and third) 1PL First person plural (likewise second and third) PRO1SG First person singular pronoun (likewise second and third) PRO1PL First person plural pronoun (likewise second and third)

Transcription symbols . falling intonation at the end of an intonation unit , level intonation at the end of an intonation unit ? raising intonation at the end of an intonation unit ↑ following word starts at a higher pitch [ beginning of overlapped speech ] end of overlapped speech (.) micropause (0.4) pause (length indicated in tenths of a second) >< (inwards pointing arrows) rapid speech (outwards pointing arrows) slow speech AHA (capital letters) loud volume .hhh inbreath he he laughter ££ word or longer utterance produced with a smiley voice sitruncated word

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In 2001, Professors Tuomas Huumo (University of Turku) and Lea Laitinen (University of Helsinki) joined their efforts and started to collaborate on a project called “Grammar and the Human Conceptualizer,”which aimed to study how grammar reflects the viewpoints of the language users — that is, the human conceptualizers. We wish to express our gratitude to the Academy of Finland for supporting this project, which made possible the several workshops where the authors of papers in this volume were able to meet and discuss the contents of their papers. The Academy’s support made possible the visits and participation of Ronald Langacker, Ritva Laury, and Lyle Campbell. In addition, Lyle Campbell's visit to the University of Turku was supported by funding from the University of Turku. We thank Ronald Langacker for his participation and support throughout the project and the publication of this volume. We also thank the anonymous reviewers of this volume, and Konrad Koerner for editorial advice. We are grateful to Anke de Looper of John Benjamins Publishing Company for her help in editing the papers.

INTRODUCTION GRAMMAR FROM THE HUMAN PERSPECTIVE

MARJA-LIISA HELASVUO AND LYLE CAMPBELL University of Turku and University of Utah

1.

Grammar from the human perspective — theoretical background The papers of this book investigate how grammar codes the subjective viewpoint of human language users, that is, how grammar reflects human conceptualization. One of the basic tenets of Cognitive Grammar is that between a linguistic expression and its extra-linguistic referent there must be human conceptualization — we interpret the extra-linguistic entity or situation in a particular way when we choose a linguistic expression with which to refer to it. As Langacker (1999a:206) puts it, “Our concern is with conceptualizations evoked as the meanings of linguistic expressions, in which case the primary conceptualizers are the speaker and the addressee. Their conception and portrayal of a situation can never be wholly neutral, for they must always construe it in some specific fashion.”Some of the articles in this book deal with spatial relations and locations; they discuss how basic attributes of human conceptualization (for example, the notions of Figure and Ground, see Talmy 2000a:312, or the division into different axes, see Clark 1973:31–35; Fillmore 1982:36–37) are encoded in the grammatical expression of spatial relations. Other articles here concern ‘body’— embodiment in language, showing how conceptualization is mediated by one’s embodied experience of the world and ourselves, via one’s body and perception (Freeman 2003:266). Finally, some of the articles discuss coding of person; they place emphasis more on the subjectivity of conceptualization and how it is reflected in grammar. They show that conceptualization is subjective in that it reflects the speaker’s construal of the situation or state-ofaffairs (Langacker 1999a:206), and furthermore, that it is intersubjective because it reflects the speaker’s understanding of the relations between the participants in the speech act (including the recipient of the talk; see Scheibmann 2001, Kärkkäinen et al., forthcoming).

2 2.

MARJA-LIISA HELASVUO & LYLE CAMPBELL

Grammar from the perspective of Finnish — theoretical contributions The papers of this volume deal with and are informed by aspects of Finnish grammar. It is often commented that Finnish is an exceptionally valuable language for linguistics because it provides excellent examples of so many things of theoretical interest to linguists. Indeed, in the general linguistics literature we find numerous instances of Finnish examples playing significant roles in theoretical discussions of vowel harmony, gemination, meter, codeswitching, child language acquisition, language contact, loanwords, language change, word order, theoretical morphology, computational linguistics, morphological processing, case (see Comrie 1975, Kiparsky 2001), possession, anaphora, metaphor (see Johnson and Lakoff 2002), null subjects, and typological issues of many sorts. In spite of the role Finnish has played, much insightful work in Finnish linguistics remains essentially unknown to the broader linguistic audience, since it is published in Finnish or in lesser-known journals. Much of this work is truly excellent, and outsiders familiar with the Finnish linguistic tradition frequently lament that its excellent findings and analyses have not reached a broader audience. The papers of the volume, in a small measure, do reflect the wealth that can be mined from the resources of Finnish grammar, and also, we hope, reveal something of the value of Finnish linguistic scholarship on Finnish and what that perspective can contribute to linguistics more generally. From a general linguistic perspective, the papers of this volume frequently contribute new insight to long-standing issues in Finnish traditional linguistic studies. More importantly, they utilize the rich resources of Finnish grammar to contribute generally to a range of issues in contemporary functional linguistics and in particular to Cognitive Grammar (as developed by, for example, Langacker 1987, 1991b, Talmy 2000a). With its rich morphology, Finnish offers interesting insights into many current theoretical topics, among others the discussion of fictive motion (Talmy 2000a: Chapter 2). Canonical examples of fictive motion include expressions in which the static position of an elongated entity is expressed by using motion verbs and directional locative elements, but fictive motion applies to more abstract domains as well (e.g. cognition or perception). Here, the Finnish local case system provides a rich resource. In cognitive linguistics, expressions of fictive motion are usually analyzed as reflecting the directionality of a mental scanning performed by the conceptualizer. Thus, the situation is approached and represented from a subjective perspective. (For further discussion, see Huumo, this volume). While several of the articles are directly concerned with cognitive linguistics, they are not deeply embedded in a single theoretical framework and their orientation does not prevent linguists from outside of cognitive linguistics from understanding and appreciating the arguments, analyses, and explanations. In addition to current issues in cognitive linguistics, the articles address basic assumptions in the literature on grammaticalization, for example by

GRAMMAR FROM THE HUMAN PERSPECTIVE

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questioning the assumed unidirectionality of grammaticalization processes (from lexical to grammatical, see Meillet 1912, or from less grammatical to more grammatical, Kury owicz 1965; for a critique of this view, see Campbell 2001:129–130; for further discussion, see Suutari, this volume), and by discussing the role of metonymy and metaphor in grammaticalization (see OnikkiRantajääskö, this volume). Most of the papers are based on authentic (naturally occurring) data from written and spoken genres. In several of the papers, data are not just used to illustrate the theoretical points, but rather, the data are studied in order to identify discourse patterns which are then studied in context to search for functional explanations for the observed patternings concerning, for example, information status and reference tracking (see Chafe 1994, and the papers by Ojutkangas and Laury, this volume), or discourse prominence and inherent lexical semantics of the referential forms (see Silverstein 1981, and the papers by Laury, Laitinen, and Helasvuo, this volume). These papers take a discourse perspective on subjectivity in conceptualization, for example looking at the construal of person reference as an interactive process; in this context Scheibmann (2001) talks about intersubjectivity. How the human perspective is coded in grammar provides the cohesion which unifies the papers of this volume. The articles follow a logical progression, where earlier articles in several cases provide foundations helpful for understanding later papers. The sections of the book are also sequenced in this way. Thus, papers in Section II Space and Location deal with the expression of location and the conceptualization of spaces, while the papers in Section III The Human perspective discuss the role of the human body in grammatical conceptualization. Finally, the papers in Section IV Person focus on the coding of person in grammar. 3.

Space and location Krista Ojutkangas’paper, “Spatial axes in language and conceptualization: the case of bidirectional constructions,” is a usage-based study of the basic axes in the conceptual partition of space. The focus is on bidirectional constructions in Finnish: on descriptions of spatial relations where both opposing poles of a spatial axis are explicitly mentioned in a single sentence, instances such as ‘the bride and the groom were sitting behind the table and the guests were sitting in front of the table’. The presence of both opposing spatial terms in the sentence is not random; rather, their joint appearance has a meaning in the discourse, and this is what makes the bidirectional constructions “constructions”. Ojutkangas argues that the use of bidirectional constructions is motivated by the support that solid and stable spatial axis can contribute to efficiency and ease of information processing. The analysis — based on the windowing of attention, the ability of humans to target their focus to selected parts of different event frames (Talmy 2000a) — shows that bidirectional con-

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structions elaborate the spatial description, as they are used for nesting locative expressions and thus for characterizing spatial configurations more finely. They also function as a tool for tracking Figure and Ground referents through discourse, when the constructions are used as a device for building narrative along the axis the speaker has chosen. Ojutkangas’study shows that the inherent bipolarity of the basic spatial axes can be utilized as a relatively systematic strategy in spatial conceptualization. It also shows that a conceptualization strategy primarily used in spatial language can have further functions in discourse, in building the narrative, and in reference tracking. The analysis of bidirectional and similar constructions contributes to our knowledge of spatial conceptualization and language generally. Tuomas Huumo (in “I woke up from the sofa”: subjective directionality in Finnish expressions of a spatio-cognitive transfer”) investigates fictive motion as manifested by the uses of the Finnish directional cases (‘to’vs. ‘from’) in expressions that involve a cognitive change. Cognitive change takes place in the relationship between an experiencer and a stimulus in such a way that the stimulus either enters or exits the cognitive domain of the experiencer (that is, the experiencer’s consciousness, awareness, or field of perception). Verbs that show such relations include verbs of perception (for example, ‘see’, ‘hear’, ‘smell’) and verbs of more abstract cognitive contact (such as ‘find’,‘lose’,‘forget’). The general observation is that even though such situations do not involve actual motion in space, Finnish uses the directional cases to indicate the static spatial position of the stimulus that changes its relationship with the cognitive domain. In general, the spatial position of a stimulus that enters a cognitive domain is referred to by use of a ‘from’case, as if the stimulus were leaving its spatial position when it enters the cognitive domain — hence, the ‘I woke up from the sofa’of the title. For instance, in Finnish one may ‘see’or ‘find’things ‘from’the places they occupy. Correspondingly, the spatial position of a stimulus that exits a cognitive domain is often referred to with a ‘to’case, as if it were moving into its spatial position when it leaves the cognitive domain. Thus in Finnish one may ‘forget’or ‘leave’things ‘into’their places. Huumo argues that this use of the directional cases shows that the conceptualization of such cognitive changes reflected by the structure of Finnish involves fictive motion between different domains and a deep and direct interaction between cognitive domain and space. In “Metonymy in locatives of state,”Tiina Onikki-Rantajääskö analyzes abstract uses of locative case expressions in Finnish. She concentrates on the construction type called ‘locatives of state’, which denotes psycho-physical and other states — she especially focuses on expressions for postures and facial expressions (Hän on jalo-i-lla-an [s/he be+3SG foot-PL-ADE-3SGPX] ‘S/he is on her/his feet’; nenä pysty-ssä [nose up-INE] ‘chin up’, both reflecting a schema [X Y-LOCAL CASE] meaning ‘X is in state Y’). Special attention is given to the bridging role of metonymy between the concrete and abstract uses of locative case expressions. Onikki-Rantajääskö shows that metonymic-meta-


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phorical tendencies are based on cultural models which form the basis for the polysemy of locative expressions. She also discusses another organizing principle lying behind expressions of postures, that of geometric image-schematic dimensions. The paper shows how metonymic-metaphorical extensions make use of these dimensions. Together they form the motivation for and organizing principle behind the abstraction tendencies observed in locatives. Furthermore, based on her data from expressions of postures and facial expressions in Finnish, Onikki-Rantajääskö explores the experiential and bodily basis of metaphor and metonymy suggested by Barcelona (2003b). 4.

The human perspective Toni Suutari investigates “Body part names and grammaticalization,”the development and grammaticalization of words that refer to body parts. An examination of Finno-Ugric words meaning ‘head’reveals counterexamples to claims both about human egocentrism in semantic development and about the asserted unidirectionality of grammaticalization. Certain abstract relational expressions receive a concrete meaning as names for parts of the body and then subsequently become abstract once again (for example, ‘beginning/end’ > ‘head/top’> ‘over/above’). In other words, Suutari shows that meanings of anatomical ‘head’are often secondary, and this has serious implications for grammaticalization. Suutari reviews the primary body-part names and the problems of the grammatical categorization of locative forms. The Finnish and Estonian locative expressions that include body-part names belong to two types, locatives and adpositions. Locatives are typically formed from two nouns and are based on the ‘body part’> ‘object part’metaphor (Finnish uunin kupee-ssa [oven-GEN flank-INE] ‘next to the oven’; contrast linna-n ikkunassa [castle-GEN window-INE] ‘at the window of the castle’). Adpositions become grammaticalized directly from the meaning of the body part, with the help of the ‘part’> ‘space around part’metonymy (Finnish uude-n liikemerki-n rinna-lla [new-GEN logo-GEN chest/breast-ADE] ‘alongside the new logo’). Suutari shows that the metaphorical change from the meanings related to body parts to abstract meanings occurred after the grammaticalization had taken place. It is therefore argued that the concrete ‘body part’> ‘object part’metaphor has no effect in these cases. The observations have broad implications for grammaticalization and categorization. They demonstrate that grammaticalization does not always involve changes from concrete to abstract or from lexical to grammatical, but grammaticalization may include stages where an abstract relational expression adopts a concrete meaning (e.g. it comes to refer to a body part) which in turn becomes grammaticalized. Seppo Kittilä (“On distinguishing between ‘recipient’and ‘beneficiary’ in Finnish”) examines the ‘recipient’vs. ‘beneficiary’distinction in Finnish. His goal is to show that the allative case [‘on, by, next to’] encoding of the Recipient is possible only if the given event involves the role of recipient, and

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thus shares common features with the event ‘give’. Otherwise, the case marking has to be changed into Beneficiary. Beneficiary marking is possible only if the role of recipient is completely absent; if it is not absent, the marking is determined by reception. Put concretely, this means that Beneficiary marking occurs in cases such as ‘he watched the news for me’, while events like ‘he earned me a thousand Euro by jumping’are encoded using a Recipient argument. This distinction is examined in light of both typical and less typical instances, and Kittilä thus provides a rather detailed analysis. The paper takes a typological perspective on semantic distinctions conveyed by the case system in Finnish. Many linguists have made the observation, robustly supported by empirical evidence, that mentions of human referents manifest features of prominence on the level of both discourse and grammar. This is so because they tend to be topical and agentive and are consequently likely to appear in core grammatical roles, especially in the subject role. Nevertheless, human referents are occasionally also mentioned in oblique cases (for example, as possessors and as recipients of various types). Ritva Laury in “Oblique mentions of human referents in Finnish conversation: The effects of prominence in discourse and grammar” investigates these oblique mentions of human referents in Finnish and asks, are human mentions equally distributed among all the oblique cases? What are their pragmatic and semantic characteristics? Do they take on the typical discourse profile of obliques, meaning that they would be likely to be new, unidentifiable, and unlikely to be re-mentioned, or do they still get treated like other human referents so that they would be identifiable, given and further tracked? What are the semantic features of NPs used for oblique mentions of humans in discourse? The results of her study strongly confirm the centrality of human referents in grammar and discourse. Oblique mentions in the data show features of syntactic prominence, since they are not equally distributed among all the oblique cases, but instead cluster in only a few cases, namely those which occur in constructions with grammatical rather than local meaning. Further, human referents mentioned in oblique case roles are still pragmatically and semantically strongly human in terms of being participants in speech events, in being identifiable, given, and further tracked, that is, continuous topics in discourse, and in being lexically specified as humans. 5.

Person Marja-Liisa Helasvuo and Lea Laitinen take up “Person in Finnish: paradigmatic and syntagmatic relations in interaction.”This paper both introduces and provides an overview to person marking in Finnish, which is central in several of the other papers of this volume. Helasvuo and Laitinen provide both necessary background for understanding the role of person in the other papers of the book, and also contribute to resolving some of the long-standing confusions surrounding how person has been dealt with in Finnish grammar.


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As they explain, the category of person is expressed in three coding systems in Finnish, in personal pronouns, person marking on verbs, and possessive suffixes. Helasvuo and Laitinen explore the first two. In Finnish, the predicate verb agrees with the subject in person (1 st, 2nd and 3rd) and number (singular : plural). The verb thus shows the same person as the nominal subject, and therefore, the nominal and the verbal person marking systems have usually not been discussed separately in Finnish linguistics (see for example Sulkala and Karjalainen 1992, Hakulinen and Karlsson 1979). Helasvuo and Laitinen show, however, that in colloquial varieties of Finnish the coding of person is more complicated. The verbal and nominal person marking systems intersect, but not in the straightforward manner assumed in mainstream Finnish linguistics. The connections between the two form an intricate network. Helasvuo and Laitinen demonstrate that the verbal person marking is not copied from the subject pronoun in a mechanical way, nor is the personal pronoun redundant. They therefore find it useful to present the nominal and verbal person marking systems as two different paradigmatic systems. They also discuss how the two systems interrelate on the syntactic level. They show that there are two forms in the Finnish person paradigm that systematically create open reference, namely the so-called zero person (a 3rd person singular verb form without an overt subject) and the passive. These forms involve personal reference but the reference is open and has to be construed in the context. They further show that not only these forms but also others (1 st and 2nd person) can be used to create open reference (cf. English you as a speech-act person vs. the so-called “generic you”). Lea Laitinen’s “Zero Person in Finnish: a grammatical resource for construing human reference”deals with person much more specifically, with Finnish constructions containing the so-called ‘zero person’subject, for example: (1)

Suome-ssa joutu-u sauna-an. Finland-INE get-3SG sauna-ILL “In Finland you wind up in a sauna.”

In the zero-person construction, there is no overt subject, and the verb is in the 3rd person singular form. These constructions express typical changes of state, emotions, perceptions, reception, or other processes that affect human beings in particular situations. Laitinen argues that the zero-person constructions in Finnish are specific crystallizations of human experience. She analyzes the grammar and meaning of these constructions which have implied personal referents, especially in subject positions. The meanings of the construction are investigated from conversational data, and its globally marked non-specific reference is compared to the non-specific use of personal pronouns, e.g. 2nd person pronouns that are used as generic forms for humans in many languages. By grammatical means, the zero person construction creates an iconic schema of

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an open place for anyone to enter. Laitinen shows how this potentiality is used in interaction by the speech act participants, and how the zero person constructions, leaving the conceptualizer of the situation implicit, provide a more subjective perspective on the experience than explicit personal pronouns. The results of this paper have implications for the understanding of impersonal use of pronouns, non-specific pronominal reference, and zero persons in languages generally. Marja-Liisa Helasvuo, in “Passive — personal or impersonal: A Finnish perspective,” deals with “passive” constructions in Finnish, that is, with constructions containing a verb form bearing passive morphology. Significantly, her analysis is based on a large database of spoken Finnish. She argues that contrary to the received view in Finnish linguistics, there are actually two types of passive in Finnish, namely the so-called simple passive (for example, tehdä-än [do-PASS-PERSON] ‘[it] is done’) and a periphrastic passive; the latter is the so-called be-passive, formed with the verb ‘to be’in its 3rd person singular form (on) and a passive participle of the main verb (for example, on teh-ty [be+3SG do-PST+PASS+PTCP] ‘[it] has been done’). In the be-passive, the finite verb is in the 3rd person form, but in the simple passive, there is a special passive “personal” marker on the verb. The passive personal marker creates personal reference, but the reference is not explicit, but rather has to be construed from the context. Helasvuo investigates the role of these two types of passives in the Finnish person system and the discourse functions that they serve. She demonstrates that the simple passive is overwhelmingly used for describing actions and activities in contexts implying a human agent, whereas the be-passive is not restricted in the same way. The be-passive can be used for characterizing entities, but also for describing actions; here, however, it differs from descriptions made with the simple passive in that it focuses on the result of the action as opposed to the activity itself which is in focus in clauses with the simple passive. In analyzing Finnish passives, Helasvuo explains the functions of verbal person marking. In Finnish, there is no subject argument in passive clauses and if there is an object argument, it does not trigger verb agreement as subjects do. This has led some to describe the Finnish passive as impersonal (see Comrie 1977). In contrast, in a personal passive, the object of the active clause takes the role of subject in a corresponding passive clause. Helasvuo shows, however, that this use of the term “personal”vs. “impersonal”is misleading: it equates the function of person marking with the coding of the subject role. Instead, she suggests that the function of person marking on verbs is to provide a grammatical means for expressing person, either by explicit reference to person (e.g. 1st person marking) or open reference that has to construed in the context (e.g. the passive; see also Helasvuo and Laitinen, this volume). From this perspective, the Finnish passive is by no means impersonal, but instead, is an integral part of the person system for verbs.


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The findings also have implications for the treatment of agreement systems in general: in many languages, the category of person contributes to the coding of grammatical relations; however, it is mistaken to assume that the coding of grammatical relations is the sole function of person marking. 6.

Grammar and human conceptualization — broader implications and contributions The papers of this book set out to explore grammar and the ways in which it encodes the viewpoints of the language user. They take as their starting point the assumption that the choice of linguistic expressions reflects our construal of the situation described or the entity being referred to. Among the specific linguistic phenomena discussed are case marking, expressions of spatial relations, body part terms, the marking of recipient/beneficiary, the coding of subject, and person marking and personal reference. Each in its way reflects human conceptualization. By analyzing linguistic phenomena, the papers contribute to current theoretical debates in cognitive linguistics and in the wider field of functional approaches. Fictive motion, for example, has been debated in recent years (see e.g. Talmy 2000a: Chapter 2, Matsumoto 1996, Matlock 2001), but the discussion has mainly focused on some special usages of motion verbs. In his paper, Huumo extends the discussion on fictive motion to case marking and shows that the phenomenon is much more extensive than has previously been shown. Spatial semantics and conceptualization have been widely discussed in cognitive linguistics. Ojutkangas provides a usage-based approach to the conceptualization of the basic axes, showing that the axes figure significantly in language usage and that there are constructions (the so-called bidirectional constructions) which utilize bipolar spatial axes in descriptions of concrete spatial relations. Suutari extends the discussion of spatial semantics to the use of body part terms in spatial expressions. He questions the assumption common in the literature on grammaticalization that the human body – including the names for body-parts – provides the most important model for the expression of spatial orientation (cf. Heine 1997:40) and presents counter-evidence to this claim. Onikki-Rantajääskö also investigates the theme of embodiment, discussing the human body and experience as the basis of the grammaticalization of locative expressions denoting states. Kittilä’s examination of the ‘recipient’ and ‘beneficiary’roles in Finnish contributes to the typology of case systems and to understanding of the semantic distinctions they can convey. All these papers contribute to understanding of how perspectives of the human language user are encoded in grammatical expressions of spatial relations and how they reflect our conceptualization of these relations. Laury takes up grammatical and discourse prominence of mentions of human referents showing that grammatical prominence is not restricted to the core grammatical roles (subjects and objects), but instead, oblique mentions of

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human referents show features of syntactic prominence, since they occur in constructions with grammatical rather than local meaning. Furthermore, Ojutkangas explores the relationship between bipolar expressions and discourse prominence. The concept of person has received much attention in diverse fields of inquiry; as a grammatical category, it has often been discussed in relation to the coding of grammatical relations, or more widely, in relation to the coding of relations between speech-act participants (such as speaker and addressee; see Silverstein 1981). In their papers, Helasvuo and Laitinen treat specific and nonspecific reference but instead of non-specific reference or impersonalization (see Siewierska 2004:210–213), they speak about open reference, by which they mean reference that is not anchored to any specific referent but has to be construed in the discourse context. These are some of the general contributions made in these papers. They illustrate the rich contributions detailed studies of Finnish have to offer our field.

AN INTRODUCTION TO FINNISH SPATIAL RELATIONS LOCAL CASES AND ADPOSITIONS

TUOMAS HUUMO AND KRISTA OJUTKANGAS University of Turku

1.

Introduction The Finnish system for expressing spatial relations consists of six local cases and many adpositions, the precise number of which cannot be determined since the borderline between adpositions and relator nouns is obscure. The local cases are divided into two series: the so-called internal cases and external cases. The internal cases express relations such as ‘inside’, ‘into’, ‘out of’: e.g. talo-ssa [house-INE] ‘in the house’~ talo-sta [house-ELA] ‘from the house’~ talo-on [house-ILL] ‘into the house’. The external cases express relations such as ‘at’,’to the outside of’and ‘from the outside of’or ‘on’, ‘onto’and ‘off’: e.g. pöydä-llä [table-ADE] ‘on the table’~ pöydä-ltä [table-ABL] ‘off the table’~ pöydä-lle [table-ALL] ‘onto the table’. As can be seen, a pervasive feature in the case system is the expression of directionality: in both case series there is one static case (‘in’/ ‘at’/ ‘on’), one ‘to’case and one ‘from’case. Similar directional oppositions are expressed by many adpositions, since the adpositional stems generally bear locative case suffixes. This is possible because many Finnish adpositions typically originate from nouns; this is reflected in the fact that they still carry local case endings and take their complement in the genitive form, e.g. pöydä-n pää-llä [table-GEN top-ADE] ‘on [top of] the table’~ pöydä-n pää-ltä [table-GEN top-ABL] ‘off [the top of] the table’~ pöydä-n päälle [table-GEN top-ALL] ‘onto [the top of] the table’, where the postpositional stem pää- is inflected in the external cases (for details, see Suutari this volume). In their structure such adpositional phrases resemble noun phrases where the locative case-marked head is a relator noun preceded by a genitive modifier. In this paper we first introduce the system of Finnish local cases in general (Section 2) and then discuss the main features of the system of adpositions (Section 3), to provide the reader with the necessary background for understanding the relevant articles in this book.

TUOMAS HUUMO & KRISTA OJUTKANGAS

12 2.

The system of local cases

2.1.

Modern Finnish A locative case usually designates a relationship between two entities, which in cognitive linguistic terminology are called the trajector and the landmark. Informally, the trajector of a locative relationship is the entity whose location is designated by the locative expression; the landmark is the entity with respect to which the trajector is located. In morphosyntactic terms, the landmark is designated by the noun that carries the locative case ending. The trajector may be another nominal element of the sentence, or for instance the whole nucleus consisting of a finite verb with its arguments. For instance, in the expression kirja pöydä-llä [book table-ADE] ‘the book on the table’the trajector is ‘the book’and the landmark is ‘the table’. The Finnish system of local cases consists of six productive local cases, which in linguistic descriptions are usually arranged according to two dimensions. First of all, a distinction is drawn between the two series of so-called internal (‘inside’) and external (‘at’/ ‘on’) cases; secondly, within each series a distinction is made between static and dynamic cases, where the dynamic cases are further divided into ‘to’and ‘from’ cases (for a more detailed basic description in English, see e.g. Sulkala and Karjalainen 1992, Helasvuo 2001:36−64; a detailed discussion of the local cases in Finnish, based on a framework of conceptual semantics, is given in Leino et al. 1990). In addition, there are two “general”local cases. These, however, do not express locative relationships productively but rather designate circumstantial relationships such as conditions, roles, occupations and internal states. They are called the essive (‘as’) and the translative (‘into’, in the sense of ‘changing into something’). Table 1 shows the noun talo ‘house’ inflected in all local cases.

INTERNAL

EXTERNAL

GENERAL

TO-CASE Illative talo-on ‘into a/the house’ Allative talo-lle ‘to a/the house’ Translative talo-ksi ‘[changing] into a/the house’

IN/AT-CASE Inessive talo-ssa ‘in a/the house’ Adessive talo-lla ‘at/by/on/near a/the house’ Essive talo-na ‘as a/the house’

FROM-CASE Elative talo-sta ‘from inside a/the house’ Ablative talo-lta ‘from a/the house’

Table 1: The Finnish local cases In modern Finnish the main spatial function of the internal cases is to designate containment, where one entity is situated within (or moves into or out

FINNISH SPATIAL RELATIONS

13

of) a (usually three-dimensional) space contained within another entity (examples 1–3). (1)

Lapsi istu-i laatiko-ssa. child sit-PST+3SG box-INE “The child was sitting in the box.”

(2)

Lapsi ryöm-i laatikko-on. child crawl-PST+3SG box-ILL “The child crawled into the box.”

(3)

Lapsi ryöm-i laatiko-sta. child crawl-PST+3SG box-ELA “The child crawled out of the box.”

In addition to containment, the internal cases are also used to designate relationships of contact, where one entity is attached to the surface of another entity: (4)

Tarra on puskuri-ssa. sticker be+PRS+3SG bumper-INE “The sticker is on the bumper.”

The external cases designate relationships of ‘association’, ‘vicinity’and ‘support’, where the interpretation depends on whether the landmark (= the referent of the case-marked noun) has a relevant surface as its salient feature, in which case the ‘support’interpretation is possible (5–7). (5)

Pallo on laatiko-lla. ball be+PRS+3SG box-ADE “The ball is next to the box”; “The ball is on the box”.

(6)

Pallo kier-i laatiko-lle. ball roll-PST+3SG box-ALL “The ball rolled to the box”; “The ball rolled up to the outside of the box”.

(7)

Pallo kier-i laatiko-lta. ball roll-PST+3SG box-ABL “The ball rolled off of the box”; “The ball rolled away from the outside of the box”.

To sum up, in (1) the inessive case expresses a static relationship of containment, while in (2−3) the illative and the elative express relations of motion

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‘into’ and ‘out of’, respectively. In (5), the adessive may express a static relationship of vicinity (‘the ball is next to the box’); since the landmark of this relationship has a salient surface, however, it also has the ‘on’interpretation (‘the ball is on the box’). The same ambiguity arises in (6) and (7), where the allative and the ablative designate external ‘to’(‘up to’, ‘on to the outside of’) and ‘from’ (‘away from the outside of’) relations, respectively. In addition to their spatial uses, Finnish local cases also have nonspatial functions. First of all, they are used in the temporal domain to express points of time and sometimes the duration of events. In this domain the opposition between the internal and the external cases no longer holds; different temporal expressions make conventionalized use of different cases and are not productively inflected in the others. The names of the months, for instance, are normally inflected in the internal cases (e.g. tammikuu-ssa [january-INE] ‘in January’); the names of the seasons are inflected in the external cases (e.g., kesä-llä [summer-ADE] ‘in summer’), and the names of the weekdays take the essive case (maanantai-na [monday-ESS] ‘on Monday’). There are, however, also some uses where the two case series are in opposition in the temporal domain, one of these being where an external case expresses a point of time but an internal case expresses duration: päivä-llä [dayADE] ‘at some point of time during the day’vs. päivä-ssä [day-INE] ‘in a day’s time’. The opposition of directionality (static vs. dynamic cases) is productive in the temporal domain as well: in general the static cases are used to express points of time, as in our previous examples, whereas the dynamic cases are used to express the temporal boundaries of the event, as in (8). (8)

Työskentel-i-n kesäkuu-sta elokuu-hun. work-PST-1SG June-ELA August-ILL “I worked from June to August.”

Another nonspatial use of the local cases is the class of expressions where the landmark is animate. In this domain the external cases are particularly productive, since in Finnish they are the conventionalized means for the expression of basic human-related relationships such as possession and cognition. The directional opposition of the cases also operates in this domain. Thus for instance in expressions of a static possessive relationship (‘X has Y’), the possessor is referred to by the static adessive (‘at’/’on’), while in expressions where the possessed is gained or lost the directional allative (‘to’) and ablative (‘from’) are used, respectively. The external cases are used to indicate all kinds of possession, including concrete physical possession (9–11), where the possessed is spatially located close to the possessor, and abstract possession, where spatial vicinity is irrelevant (12–14).


15

(9)

Koira-lla on pallo. dog-ADE be+PRS+3SG ball. “The dog has a/the ball”[lit. “On the dog is a ball”].

(10)

Koira-lta katos-i pallo. dog-ABL disappear-PST+3SG ball “The dog lost a/the ball”[lit. “From the dog disappeared a ball”].

(11)

Koira-lle tul-i pallo. dog-ALL come-PST+3SG ball “The dog got a/the ball”[lit. “To the dog came a ball”].

(12)

Elmeri-llä on kesämökki. Elmer-ADE be+PRS+3SG summer.cabin “Elmer has a/the summer cabin”[lit. “On Elmer is a summer cabin”]

(13)

Elmeri-ltä men-i kesämökki. Elmer-ABL go-PST+3SG summer.cabin “Elmer lost a/the summer cabin”(e.g. in a gamble) [lit. “From Elmer went the summer cabin”]

(14)

Elmeri-lle tul-i kesämökki. Elmer-ALL come-PST+3SG summer.cabin “Elmer got a/the summer cabin”(e.g. by inheritance) [lit. “To Elmer came the summer cabin”].

Finally, the local cases can express circumstantial relationships, such as internal states, occupations, activities and internal conditions (see OnikkiRantajääskö, this volume). In this domain we find a continuum: at one extreme are the productive usages of these cases with nouns that express a circumstance, at the other opaque expressions that can best be characterized as adverbs. In (15) we have a productively inflected noun flunssa ‘flu’ in the inessive case designating the condition of the person, while in (16) we have an expression where a case ending (preceded by a plural marker) can be identified but the nominal stem carrying these affixes is not used elsewhere (i.e. there is no independent noun juovus meaning something like ‘intoxication’). (15)

Hän on flunssa-ssa. s/he be+PRS+3SG flu-INE “S/he has the flu”[lit. “She is in flu”].

16 (16)


Hän on s/he be+PRS+3SG “S/he is drunk.”

juovuks-i-ssa. ?drunk-PL-INE

As was the case in the temporal domain, the system of oppositions between the external and the internal cases is not functional in circumstantial expressions. Many such expressions are inflected in the cases of one series but not in those of the other series (there is for instance no adessive counterpart of the inessive form juovuksissa in example 16). The directional system is not completely productive in the circumstantial domain either: often there are expressions for being in a state and reaching a state, while expressions of exiting or leaving a state are less productive. The more lexicalized (adverb-like) these expressions are, the less inflectional productivity they display. Some of the local cases also have uses outside the general function of designating domains such as the ones described above (i.e. space, time, possession and state). The most prominent one is probably the instrumental function of the adessive (17): (17)

Korjas-i-n tuoli-n vasara-lla. repair-PST-1SG chair-ACC hammer-ADE “I repaired the chair with a hammer.”

The instrumental function of the adessive is in many ways different from its other central functions, where it designates different domains. An instrument is not a domain where (some or all) participants of the event or action may be situated but is rather a participant in the action chain itself: canonically, it transmits a force from the agent to the patient. In its instrumental function the adessive thus lies outside the system of oppositions that connects the local cases with each other — its opposition with the dynamic cases, on the one hand, and the opposition between the internal and the external cases, on the other hand. 2.2.

Historical background Historically, the tripartite system of local cases is assumed to go back to the Uralic protolanguage, although the original local cases have grammaticalized into more abstract functions and new case series have arisen to replace them. The following discussion on the history of these endings is based on the overview by Häkkinen (2002) and the literature mentioned there. The essive of modern Finnish, which now expresses abstract nonspatial relations such as internal states, circumstances and conditions, was originally a productive locative ‘at’ case. As a relic of this use, Finnish still has some lexicalized adverbs where the essive ending has the locative function: e.g., kotona [home-ESS] ‘at home’. The historical ‘from’case, which had the ending *-tA, grammaticalized into the partitive of the Baltic Finnic languages, where its main


17

functions are to mark (under certain circumstances) the object, the existential subject and the predicate nominal. The translative case is younger and its origin is controversial: according to one explanation its ending arose as the combination of two originally lative (‘to’) case endings, *-k and *-s, while another explanation places the origin of the translative ending in a derivative affix *-kse. As relics of the orginal uses, Finnish still has some lexicalized adverbs as well as spatial adpositions where the essive, partitive and translative have a locative function: cf. e.g. koto-na [home-ESS] “at home” ~ koto-a [home-PTV] “from home”; adpositions in “general”local cases in Table 2. The endings of the productive local cases of modern Finnish have their origin in the combination of the old local case endings with other material. The internal cases are also called the s-cases, because they all had the old lative ending *-s as a component of their ending. Thus the ending of the modern elative is a quite transparent combination of the *-s and the old ‘from’case ending *-tA (*s+*-tA => -stA). The ending of the inessive combines the *-s with the old locative ending *-nA (i.e., the predecessor of the modern essive), where the *-s has assimilated the *-n- (*-s+*-nA => *-snA => -ssA). The ending of the illative combined the *-s with another lative ending, *-n, with a connecting vowel between them; later the *-s gradually weakened into *-h and then disappeared in most instances (*-s+*-n => *-sen => *-zen => -hVn => -Vn); however, in onesyllable words the ending is still -hVn in modern Finnish, e.g., työ-hön [workILL] ‘to work’. Correspondingly, the external cases are also called the l-cases because their endings contain the element l, going back to a locative derivative affix -l(A); cf. Finnish sika-la [pig-lA] ‘pig house’, kana-la [chicken-lA] ‘chicken house’. This -l combined with the ending of the old ‘from’case *-tA to produce the ending of the elative (*-l+*-tA => -ltA). The ending of the adessive is the result of the combination of the -l with the old locative ending *-nA, where the -n was assimilated (*-l+*-nA => *-lnA => -llA). The ending of the allative was originally the combination of *-l with the lative ending *-n, with a connecting vowel between them (*-l+*-n => *-len => *-llen => -lle); the double -l arose by analogy of the adessive ending. Thus the historical background of the internal and external local cases is in fact very similar; among these the external cases are younger, occurring in the Baltic Finnic languages only, while the internal cases are also attested in more distantly related languages (e.g. the Volgaic languages Mordvin and Mari), and are thus older. 3.

The system of adpositions In addition to the local cases introduced above, Finnish has many adpositions. Here they are compared to the system of local cases; thus at the same time we describe the division of labor between the two spatial systems in Finnish. This comparison will also help to further illustrate the nature of the local cases.

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The conceptualization of the three-dimensional space is based on three basic axes. 1 The vertical (up–down) axis is derived from the observer’s canonical upright position, and it also coincides with the axis of gravitation. The frontal (front–back) axis derives from the shape of the human body, the canonical direction of movement, and the direction and scope of the observer’s field of vision. The lateral (right–left) axis derives from the lateral symmetry of our bodies. (See e.g. Clark 1973:31–35; Fillmore 1982:36–37.) This is a simplification, but it is sufficient so long as we are concerned with Finnish, English or other European languages. It is well known that many languages derive their basic spatial axes from cardinal or geographical orientations, using notions such as north–south, uphill–downhill, upstream–downstream, or inland–seaward for their spatial descriptions. (See e.g. Levinson 1996a, 2003, Bickel 1997.) The Finnish system of local cases basically expresses a spatial relation ‘to’, ‘in/on/at’, and ‘from’with respect to a landmark, as described above in Section 2.1. These same directional oppositions are also expressed by many adpositions, since the adpositional stems are generally inflected in the local cases. However, there are three reservations which need to be made here. First, the distinction between the internal and external local cases does not play as extensive a role in the system of adpositions as it does in nominal infection. Secondly, there are adposition stems that are inflected in cases which are historically locative — these cases are no longer productive in their spatial functions and have developed into other, more abstract functions, but they do carry a spatial meaning in certain conventionalized expressions. Thirdly, some adposition stems are used in forms that are historically case-inflected but that are morphologically opaque for present-day language users, while certain other forms are inflected in unproductive, marginal cases such as the prolative, meaning ‘via, by’.2 These three refinements are all natural consequences of the grammaticalization of the adpositions. Cross-linguistically, spatial relations are expressed by morphological cases, adpositions, relator nouns, and locative verbs, and these categories are used to express slightly different aspects of spatial information. According to Levinson (2003:98–110), a basic difference seems to be that local cases are used for coding topological information (such as directionality oppositions), and information about spatial relations on the axes (“frame-of-reference information”) is encoded in independent grammatical markers. Levinson’s results 1

“In effect, the essential characteristics of human spatial conception are supposed to follow from our being ego-centric, forward-looking and -oriented bipedal primates wandering on a planet with significant gravity.” (Levinson 1996a:180.) Levinson, in fact, is critical of this view. 2 Such adpositions as, alas ‘down’and ylös ‘up’, for instance, are historically lative (‘to’) case forms, and alitse ‘(via, through) under’ and ylitse ‘(via, through) over’ are historically “prolative”(‘via’) case forms.


19

are tentative (2003:98, 104), but the Finnish system supports them: the local cases are responsible for expressing directionality oppositions, and the spatial relations on the vertical, frontal and lateral axes are expressed first and foremost by postpositions and local adverbs. 3 This is the main division of labor between the local cases and the adpositions, illustrated by Table 2. An exception to this is that the external local cases may designate the relationship of ‘support’on the vertical axis; this exception is also reported by Levinson 2003:110). It is not, however, the most salient function of these cases in Finnish. To sum up, it is not sufficient to characterize the spatial system of Finnish merely by describing the case system; on the contrary, the systems of local cases and adpositions are closely interconnected by inflection of the adposition stems. Relationship and directionality FROM ‘to’ ‘at’ ‘from’ BEHIND ‘to’ ‘at’ ‘from’ ‘to’ ‘at’ ‘from’ UNDER ‘to’ ‘in’ ‘from’ ABOVE ‘to’ ‘at’ ‘from’ ‘to’ ‘at’ ‘from’

Internal local cases

External local cases

eteen edessä edestä

edelle edellä edeltä

perään perässä perästä jälkeen jäljessä jäljestä

General local cases

taakse takana takaa

alhaalle, alle alhaalla, alla alhaalta, alta ylhäälle, ylle ylhäällä, yllä ylhäältä, yltä päälle päällä päältä

Table 2: Interconnections between Finnish local cases and adpositions: inflected forms of some adpositions designating relationships of ‘front’, ‘behind’, ‘under’, and ‘above’.

3

With postpositions the landmark is expressed with a noun or pronoun in genitive case located before the adposition, while with local adverbs the landmark is expressed with a noun or a pronoun in an oblique case or is implicit, without an overt expression altogether. The term adposition is used here to cover both of these categories.

20


The examples given in the table are only a small sample of Finnish adpositions. It could be added, for instance, that there is a remarkable set of grams designating the relationship of ‘beside, nearby’. Many of these are grammaticalized body-part terms that have developed into a grammatical function rather late, for instance rinnalla [breast+ADE] ‘beside; compared to’, kupeeseen [loins+ILL] ‘beside, to the side of’. (For a fairly extensive listing of Finnish adpositions, see Penttilä 1957:337–343.) Despite their importance in spatial relations in other languages, independent grams have been peripheral in Finnish linguistics. The focus has been on the study of their grammaticalization (e.g. Jaakola 1997; Ojutkangas 1998, 2000a, 2000b, 2000c, 2001; Suutari, this volume and forthcoming; other viewpoints have been applied by Alhoniemi 1988; Sulkala & Karjalainen 1992:240–256; Häkkinen 1995). The study of local cases has dominated the field, both in traditional linguistic studies (e.g. Alhoniemi 1975, 1979) and in cognitive applications (e.g. Leino 1989; Huumo 1996a, 1996b, 1999; OnikkiRantajääskö 2001, this volume). Ojutkangas (this volume) is a part of a wider, usage-based study of Finnish spatial grams in the framework of cognitive linguistics. 4.

Summary The diversity of spatial expressions in Finnish makes it an attractive topic for the study of spatial semantics, as illustrated by several articles in this volume. To sum up: the most salient function of the Finnish local cases is to express direction, and to designate relationships of ‘containment’and ‘vicinity’ (or ‘support’), by the internal and external local cases respectively. Adpositions, on the other hand, are responsible for expressing spatial relations on the basic (vertical, frontal, and lateral) axes. The local cases and the adpositions are thus on hierarchically separate levels, and since the adpositions have — at least theoretically — three different inflected forms for expressing direction with respect to these axes, the adpositions are dependent on the local case system. If a language has several categories for designating spatial relationships, these categories probably have a division of labor of some kind, and a description of it also illustrates the nature of the categories themselves.

SPATIAL AXES IN LANGUAGE AND CONCEPTUALIZATION THE CASE OF BIDIRECTIONAL CONSTRUCTIONS

KRISTA OJUTKANGAS University of Turku

1.

Introduction In cognitive linguistics, one of the basic assumptions about spatial conceptualization is that we divide the space we experience and observe into regions, sides, and axes. We select a Figure and a Ground1 for the spatial configuration, and adopt a viewpoint from which we perceive the relationship between them. All these aspects of spatial conceptualization (among many others) are relevant to spatial language. They have been extensively studied in cognitive linguistics, as spatial semantics has been an important object of study in this framework. Space is one of the basic cognitive domains (basic in the sense that it is not reducible to more fundamental concepts; Langacker 1987:147–150), spatial relations are productively expressed in language by grammatical elements (e.g. Talmy 2000a:24–31), and spatial language serves as a rich source for metaphoric and metonymic expressions of non-spatial concepts (e.g. Lakoff & Johnson 1980, Heine & al. 1991). Having access both to linguistic representations of spatial relations and to direct observations of physical space itself offers the possibility of drawing conclusions about the nature of human conceptualization. This is what cognitive linguistics is ultimately interested in; in Langacker’s (1987:114) words ”[i]t is our conception of reality (not the real world per se) that is relevant to linguistic semantics.”Spatial semantics is thus an integral part of Langacker’s Cognitive Grammar (1987, 1991a, 1999a) as well as Talmy’s Cognitive Semantics (2000a, b). Research into spatial semantics has been done from varied perspectives, including synchronic (Bowerman 1996, Levinson 1996a, b) and diachronic (e.g. Habicht 2000), language-specific (e.g. Brown 1994, Levinson 1994, Emmorey 1996, Huumo 1996a, b, 1999, Bickel 1997), and 1 As defined by Talmy (2000a, b), the Figure is the topical entity, the location of which is of interest to the speaker and which is designated by a locative expression, and the Ground is the backgrounded entity used as a reference point for the Figure. See Section 2.2 below for discussion and further definitions of these terms.

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KRISTA OJUTKANGAS

typologically oriented (Svorou 1993), as well as experimental (Levelt 1996, Tversky 1996, Pederson et al. 1998). The goal of this paper is to explore how Finnish speakers utilise bipolar spatial axes, the vertical and the frontal, in descriptions of concrete spatial relations, and what kind of conceptualization the axes are built upon. The focus is on bidirectional constructions, that is, descriptions of spatial relations where both poles of a spatial axis are explicitly mentioned by independent grams within one sentence. An example of such a construction is, ”The bride and the groom were sitting behind the table, and the guests were sitting in front of the table.” A central concept in this analysis is the windowing of attention — human ability to direct one’s focus to selected parts of different event frames (Talmy 2000a). The analysis demonstrates how this distribution of attention functions in the use of spatial grams meaning ’above’(or ’on top of’, ’up’), ’below’(or ’under’, ’down’), ’in front of’(or ‘ahead of’, ‘before’), and ’behind’(or ’in back of’), and explores how this process interrelates with other functional motivations such as the expression of contrast by means of accentuation. This paper is thus an attempt to use the concept of windowing systematically in search for the motivation for a given grammatical construction. This study grew out of work with data from an electronic corpus of syntactically coded spoken Finnish narratives, a corpus of approximately 800,000 words. My initial goal was to analyse constructions containing postpositions. However, analysis revealed interesting patterns of co-occurrences of certain grammatical elements, which called for closer study. The pattern of bidirectionality can be characterised as follows: In a spoken narrative, if a description of a spatial relation contains an expression of one pole of an axis (e.g. ’up’or ’front’), then there is a certain tendency for it to contain an expression of the opposite pole (e.g. ’down’or ’behind’) as well. 2 A simplified example of this tendency would be 1: (1)

jänis paken-i ee-lä ja kettu juoks-i perä-ssä hare flee-PST front-ADE and fox run-PST behind-INE “The hare was fleeing in front, and the fox was running behind it.”

The organisation of this paper is as follows. In Section 2, I describe the spatial axes and introduce some basic concepts. The aim of Section 3 is to describe the bidirectional construction and to classify its different types. The sec2 The data consist of 1719 occurrences of grams denoting the vertical and frontal axes (roughly, ’above, up’, ’below, down’, ’in front of’, and ’behind’), of which 293 are in bidirectional constructions. As a percentage this would be 17%. However, these data do not include all possible Finnish postpositional constructions, and thus it is not possible to provide reliable statistical or even proportional information. For describing a construction type and for considering its role in spatial conceptualization these data are sufficient.

SPATIAL AXES IN LANGUAGE AND CONCEPTUALIZATION

23

tion begins with a general definition of the construction; bidirectional constructions are shown to imply a change in the conceptualization of the spatial relation, and this is what the proposed classificatory system is based on. In Section 4, I explore the ways in which bidirectional constructions are utilised in building a narrative with changing perspective points; I conclude this section by addressing the question of why the mention of one direction is felt to be insufficient. The accentuation patterns of bidirectional constructions and their functions in a narrative are discussed in Section 5. In Section 6, I apply the concept of windowing of attention to the analysis of bidirectional constructions, in order to investigate how the axes are conceptualised. Conclusions are drawn in Section 7.3 2.

Basic concepts

2.1.

Spatial axes The basic spatial axes have already been introduced in this volume by Huumo and Ojutkangas; in this paper, we are concerned only with the vertical and frontal axes. According to Tversky (1996:472–473), the accessibility of directions and objects related to them depends on the relative salience of the axes. The vertical and the frontal axes are the most salient ones for humans, mainly because of asymmetries. For the vertical axis, this is supported by the force of gravity, while for the frontal axis it is crucial that its asymmetries “separate the world that can be easily sensed and easily manipulated from the world that is difficult to sense or manipulate”(Tversky 1996:473). The conceptualization of the spatial axes has two general properties that are important in the present context. First, the axes are not inherent in nature, but they are conceptually assigned to objects and relations between objects. The space in our language is an idealisation and abstraction of real space. Conventionalised assignments of axes are language and culture specific (in the sense that the general system of the axes do not predetermine how individual objects and situations will be treated in conceptualization and in linguistic description), and must be learned on a case-by-case basis, while others can be creatively constructed in discourse, on the basis of, for instance, the path of a moving Figure with respect to a Ground. Assigning axes is part of the general conceptual partitioning of space, and it is accompanied by the treatment of objects in this space as points, lines, and planes (Talmy 2000a:25, 31). The second important aspect is the bipolarity of the axes; they are “bidirectionally conceptualisable”(Talmy 2000a:116). The axes are inherently bipolar, and the mention of one pole implies the other. This is directly relevant 3 I am very grateful to professor Lyle Campbell and all the other writers for many helpful comments and suggestions I received on various stages of writing this article. I also wish to thank the Department of Linguistics in the University of Canterbury, New Zealand, for the opportunity to work there on this project in a friendly and encouraging atmosphere in 2002.

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to the present study. Given the inherent bipolarity of the axes, it should not be surprising that bidirectional constructions should be found, but to my knowledge, they have not been discussed as a type of grammatical construction in the linguistic literature before. 4 2.2.

Figure, Ground, and Gram In conceptualising space, we select a Figure and a Ground, thus creating a spatial relation. The relation between the Figure and Ground is expressed by a grammatical element. Figure and Ground are characterised by Talmy (2000a:312) as follows: The general conceptualization of Figure and Ground in language The Figure is a moving or conceptually movable entity whose path, site, or orientation is conceived as a variable, the particular value of which is the relevant issue. The Ground is a reference entity, one that has a stationary setting relative to a reference frame, with respect to which the Figure’s path, site, or orientation is being characterized.

In this study, I use the terms Figure and Ground as defined above: The Figure is the topical entity in the ongoing discourse, the location of which is of interest to the speaker. The Ground is the entity that is used as a reference point for the Figure, to connect it with the backgrounded, familiar environment. To denote the grammatical element that expresses the relation between the Figure and Ground I use the term gram (Svorou 1993:31). This covers different types of grammatical elements, such as adpositions, adverbs, and case endings. The present study is restricted to those grams which are independent morphemes. However, in Finnish the local cases and independent grams interrelate in that the grams have rudimentary inflection: there are separate forms for expressing the meanings ‘to’, ‘in/on/at’, and ‘from’on each half of the axes (e.g. auto-n ete-en, ~ ede-ssä, ~ ede-stä [car-GEN front-ILL, ~ frontINE, ~ front-ELA] ‘to the front of ~ in front of ~ from the front of the car’; see Huumo & Ojutkangas in this volume). Table 2 in the introduction by Huumo and Ojutkangas (this volume) gives an overview of the grams that are relevant for the present study. 3.

What is a bidirectional construction?

3.1.

Definition To be analysed as a bidirectional construction, a description of a spatial relation in a narrative must contain both ‘up’and ‘down’or both ‘front’and 4

Bidirectional constructions resemble couplets and parallelism, characteristic of Finnish folk poetry, which are common poetic devices and which have been widely investigated in study of folklore and oral literature (see e.g. Fox 1988 and the literature cited there).


25

‘back’grams. The grams also have to occur within one sentence, and they must both refer to precisely the same conceptual relation.5 Definition of a bidirectional construction A bidirectional construction is a description of concrete entities in a spatial relation where both opposite poles of a spatial axis (‘up down’ or ‘front back’) are explicitly mentioned by independent grams within a single sentence.

Example (2) illustrates this. It is an instance of a bidirectional construction in which the Figure and the Ground remain the same, but two alternative relations between them are considered by the speaker; these are expressed by two separate grams. The Ground is not expressed explicitly, but the topic of this narrative is the burning of wood in a special kind of fireplace in order to produce tar, and the fireplace functions as the implicit Ground. Because the Ground is implicit, the grams are realized as adverbs: päältä ‘from the top of’and alta ‘from underneath’. The Figure is sauhu ‘smoke’, and it is repeated by the narrator at the end, after a pause. (2) (LA Nurmijärvi 3511 440) 6 Ja se täyty pitä-ä 'nii and it must+PST+3SG keep-INF so “And you always had to take care that

"vara-lt- ett-ei care-ABL COMP-NEG

'mistää 'pääs-sys "sauhu tule-ma-an/ "pää-ltä/ nowhere+ELA get-PST+PTCP smoke come-INF-ILL top-ABL the smoke would not get out from the top [of the fire place used for producing tar];

5

The choice of the sentence as the unit within which bidirectional constructions must occur has two motivations. Firstly, there is the practical fact that the sentence, grammatically (and partly prosodically) defined, is the search unit of the corpus used. I am aware that from the viewpoint of interactional linguistics, the sentence is a problematic concept, and that re-transcribing relevant parts of the data into intonation units (e.g. Chafe 1994:53–70; Du Bois 2002:54–55) could be fruitful. An analysis of bidirectional constructions with respect to the functions of intonation units would certainly provide a richer picture of the functions of the constructions. However, and this is the second motivation for staying with the sentence as the defining unit, my analysis of the data has so far revealed only two cases where opposite grams (e.g. front– back) occur in separate, sequential sentences. 6 These data are from recordings made in the 1960’s, by speakers who were born in the late 19th century. The main topic of the narratives is agrarian life as experienced in the early 20th century, which explains the unusual contents of some of the examples. The first line of each example contains the name of the municipality in which the data were recorded, the number that municipality has been assigned in the corpus, and the sentence number. Accents are represented with " (primary stress) and ' (secondary stress), and pauses with / (a short pause) and // (relatively longer).

26

KRISTA OJUTKANGAS

se täyty tul-la 'aina 'siä-ltä "a-lta it must+PST+3SG come-INF always there-ABL under-ABL it always had to come from underneath [it], 'sitte// "sauhu-t. then smoke-PL the smoke.” In a bidirectional construction, either a spatial setting is observed from two different angles or viewpoints7, or attention is directed to two different entities within the setting, and, as required by the definition, there are two independent grams expressing opposite poles of a spatial axis. There is thus a change in the conceptualization of the relationship between the Figure and the Ground, although no real change in the physical world is necessarily required. This change (of the focus from one pole of the axis to the other) is minimally realised by the use of two grams. Example (2) shows that the conceptual change can be coded linguistically by syntactically positive and negative constructions that both describe the same overall spatial relation. Both poles of the spatial axis are explicitly mentioned when the location at one pole is declared and the location at the other is negated (in 2, by päältä ‘from the top’ and alta ‘from underneath’); negating a relation X (‘up’) evokes the corresponding antonymous relation Y (‘down’). This is, however, accompanied by a change or changes in how the Figure and the Ground are conceptualised, i.e. which participants are selected for these roles. On the basis of their properties it can be hypothesised that, within a bidirectional construction, the conceptualization of the Ground is generally not prone to change. The Ground entity is chosen for this role precisely by virtue of being stationary and stable. What is expected, then, is that when a spatial setting is observed from a new viewpoint, it is the conceptualization of the Figure (along with the gram) that will change. Bidirectional constructions may be classified into four different types on the basis of changes in the conceptualization of the Figure, the Ground, or the relationship between the two. The next section describes these types. 3.2.

Changing conceptualizations: types of bidirectional constructions As noted above, the conceptualization of the Figure is the most likely to change. It may be the positioning of the Figure (with relation to the Ground) that changes, as in example (2). However, more common is the introduction of a new Figure with a second gram — note that with regard to its activation cost, 7 I use the term viewpoint in the sense of ‘vantage point’, as an external position from which a scene — a spatial relation — is viewed (Langacker 1987:123). In other words, a viewpoint “may be defined as the ‘mental route’that the speaker takes in presenting a scene” (Taylor 1995:5).


27

the Figure is generally given or at least accessible (see e.g. Chafe 1994:71–75; Laury 1997:22–24); what is new is its role as Figure. What happens to the original Figure varies in the following ways: i) the original Figure can withdraw to the background (such a construction describes a spatial setting where two Figures are located in relation to one Ground, and the focus moves from the first Figure to the second; example 3), ii) it can become the Ground for a new Figure (example 4), or iii) the Figure and the Ground can swap roles, so that the original Figure becomes the Ground when the original Ground becomes the new Figure (example 5). These four possibilities, that the original Figure may change position, may withdraw, may become the Ground for a new Figure, or may swap roles with the original Ground, are the basis for the classification of bidirectional constructions. The examples in Table 1 represent the four different types of bidirectional constructions. For the sake of clarity, each type is illustrated by an English summary of the Finnish examples.

Change(s) in the conceptualization Linguistic consequences 1. Relation between the Figure and the Ground changes Opposite grams 2. Conceptualization of the Figure changes: Introducing new Figure, original Figure withdraws 3. Conceptualization of the Figure and the Ground changes: Introducing new Figure, original Figure becomes Ground for new Figure 4. Conceptualization of the Figure and the Ground changes: Original Figure and original Ground swap roles

Example “the smoke must come from top, not from underneath”; example 2 “the so-called shelf-cupboard has cupboards below and a shelf for dishes above”; example 3 “cream appears on top of the milk, and there’s buttermilk under the cream”; example 4 “a barrel of water was placed under the coffin and the coffin was put on top of the water barrel”; example 5

Table 1: Summary of types of bidirectional constructions

A bidirectional description of a spatial relation includes two or more viewpoints; by using a bidirectional construction the speaker can open up a new dimension, and show the event from another angle. In the next section I discuss three different strategies for expressing a change of a viewpoint with a bidirectional construction; these correspond to types 2 to 4 in Table 1. Selecting a new entity for the Figure role provides a new viewpoint on the spatial relation.

28 4.

KRISTA OJUTKANGAS

Discourse functions of bidirectional constructions: building narration with changing viewpoints

4.1.

Introducing new Figure; original Figure withdraws The most straightforward manner, conceptually, in which the narrators may shift their viewpoint with respect to the Ground is to shift their attention from one Figure to another, if viewing a scene where the Ground has an assigned spatial axis on which two Figures are located. This typically takes place when conceptualising an event in which two people, the Figures, are working on one object, the Ground, and they access and manipulate this Ground from opposite sides. Example (3), however, describes a piece of furniture. (3)

(LA Kihniö 2031 214) Ja 'se ol-i "joka paika-s 'yleensäs 'sittes and it be-PST+3SG every place-INE usually then “And then in every place [i.e. in every house] there usually was sano-ttii "hyllykaappi/ 'semmonen- ett- ol-i say-PASS+PST shelf.cupboard that.kind that be-PST+3SG what was called a shelf-cupboard, the kind with 'kaapi-t 'a-lla ja 'sitte 'semmone/ "astiahylly/ cupboard-PL below-ADE and then that.kind dish.shelf cupboards below and a sort of shelf for dishes 'pää-llä/ se 'ol-i "joka paika-s 'sitte. above-ADE it be-PST+3SG every place-INE then above, it was everywhere back then.”

In (3), the Ground is first introduced as a whole, and in the more detailed description that follows, it is backgrounded and implicit. The spatial axis is initially created by the shape of the Ground, and the focus of attention is then directed over the two poles of the axis, each in its turn. The poles are referred to by the Figures, kaapit, ‘cupboards’and astiahylly ‘shelf for dishes’, and their locations are expressed by the antonymous grams alla ‘below’and päällä ‘above’. This manner of viewpoint shift therefore introduces the Ground as a more general spatial frame, which is then filled in with more detailed information provided by the Figures, for example by describing the motion or location of parts with respect to the whole, when the Ground object is used or manipulated. This is an instance of nesting, which means that “one grammatically specified concept can occur embedded within another, and that


29

within a third”(Talmy 2000a:84–88, 238–239). Nesting exemplifies our ability to choose the scale with which we look at things, to zoom in on a picture, or alternatively zoom out from it, and to give increasingly finer-grained descriptions of the spatial and other relations between entities. Langacker’s (1991a:9) often-quoted example of this is “The quilt is upstairs in the bedroom in the closet on the top shelf behind the boxes”, where the “nested locatives” zoom all the way from ‘downstairs’to the back of the closet. Bidirectional constructions zoom in only one step, dividing the more global configuration of the whole Ground into the more local configuration of Figural parts that are located at opposite poles of a spatial axis, in order to describe the whole picture in finer detail. 4.2.

Introducing new Figure; original Figure becomes Ground for new Figure A second strategy for bidirectionally changing viewpoints is illustrated by example (4): in a narrative, a description of successive phases of an action is built around a spatial axis chosen by the narrator. The action is conceptualised as being located on the axis, and after sequential portions of the action are foregrounded (as Figures), they can later function as reference points (Grounds) to others. (4)

(LA Karkku 2252 316) 'Mairo-p pan-tiin "semmos-i-in sitte 'happane-ej milk-PL put-PASS+PST that.kind-PL-ILL then get.sour-INF+ILL “The milk was put into that kind [of vessel] and it soured, "pari voorokaut-ta 'ol-i ja ku se siinä nin and when it there+INE couple day-PTV be-PST+3SG so and when it was in there for a couple of days, 'siä-hen selki-s "kerma 'pää-llej ja "sii-ttä se it-ILL clear-PST+3SG cream top-ALL and it-ELA it the cream appeared there on top [of the milk] and it 'ote-ttiin sitte/ 'kirnu-tta-va-ks/ ja 'sii-ttä take-PASS+PST then churn-PASS-PTCP-TRA and it-ELA was then taken from there, to be churned, and what jä-i 'a-lta 'hyvvä-ä "piimä-ä 'sitte. remain-PST+3SG under-ABL good-PTV buttermilk-PTV then remained under it [the cream] was good buttermilk.”

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In (4), the initial Figure is kerma ’cream’, which is described as appearing on top of the milk; the milk or the vessel it is kept in is the implicit Ground of this scene. As the description of the spatial relation proceeds, the cream becomes the Ground, the reference point for the new Figure piimä ‘buttermilk’, which is what the milk under the cream has turned into, and which is what becomes relevant after the cream has been taken out of the vessel. The vertical axis is created by layers in a container, and attention is focussed on each layer in turn, each expressed by grams referring to opposite poles of the axis. Note that the very first Ground, ‘milk’, functions as a Figure in the section immediately preceding the bidirectional construction, and that the relation described there (“milk in container”) is actually what makes the creation of the vertical axis possible. This overall axis is first mentioned by a demonstrative adjective semmonen ‘of that kind’, and it is repeatedly referred to by local case and locative adverb forms of the demonstrative se ‘it’; these are underlined in the example. (Demonstratives are further discussed in Section 4.3.) Following the general patterns of information structure, it is more likely for a referent to first be introduced as a Figure, when a given referent can function as its Ground. Later in the course of the narrative, this Figure can in its turn serve as a Ground for other referents, and be tracked this way. Indeed, the data contain no instances of an entity first used as the Ground being given the role of Figure in the latter part of the bidirectional construction, except for those discussed below, in which the Ground and Figure swap roles. Moreover, entities that are tracked in the discourse are generally introduced as subjects or objects (Helasvuo 1996:344; 2001:54–57, 90–92). This is also true of the Figures that become Grounds in bidirectional constructions: all except one of the initial Figures are in subject or object roles. 4.3.

Original Figure and original Ground swap roles The viewpoint can also be shifted by taking an entity that was first prominent, foregrounded relative to another, and turning it into the reference point for the other entity, the Ground for that which had previously been Ground. This swapping of roles requires that both participants of the spatial relation be semantically compatible with the roles of both Figure and Ground. Such compatibility is seen in human beings and other animate participants; they are (or can be conceived of as being) on the same level of agentivity and mobility, and each is able to act upon the other. The participants need not necessarily be human or animate, but if one chooses to describe the relation between two objects by swapping their roles with a bidirectional construction, that relation is unlikely to be purely spatial. Consider example (5).


(5)

31

(LA Luopioinen 2851 116) Se- ol-i 'riihe-ssä 'nin kauvaj ja 'sitte josit be-PST+3SG barn-INE so long and then if “It was in the barn for that long and then if it ol-i "kesä-nen 'aika ni 'sitte 'sinnev viä-tiin be-PST+3SG summer-ADJ time so then there.to take-PASS+PST was summer time, then a barrel of cold water was taken sinner 'riihe-en 'kylmä "vesisaavi se-n 'arku-n 'a-le/ there barn-ILL cold water.barrel it-GEN coffin-GEN under-ALL there to the barn and placed there under the coffin, ja se 'arkku laske-ttiin se-n 'kylmä-v and it coffin put.down-PASS+PST it-GEN cold-GEN and the coffin was put down "vesi"saavi-m "pää-lle/ että siä-ltä 'kylmä-ä lönkä-h water.barrel-GEN top-ALL that there-ABL cold-PTV blow-PST+3SG on top of the cold barrel, so that cold [air] would rise from there 'nin kauvan kun "kirko-llev viä-tiin se/ so long than church-ALL take-PASS+PST it until it [the coffin] was taken to the church.”

In (5), the axis is created by describing the relationship between the two objects from the viewpoint of each of them in turn. Formally, this example is very straightforward: even the attribute in the original Figure NP, kylmä ‘cold’, is repeated when the Figure and Ground swap roles in the description of how the cold water barrel is placed under the coffin and the coffin is put on top of the cold water barrel. Such a repetition of full NP’s, however, raises the question whether the description is solely spatial in nature. It seems that here the first part, about the placing of the barrel under the coffin, does in fact function as part of an expression of purpose, as a start towards explaining why the barrel was placed there. The second part, the description of what was done with the coffin, is more purely spatial. In the narration, the explanation of the purpose for the action continues after the second part of the bidirectional construction. Note that the original Ground NP (‘the coffin’), the new Figure NP (again ‘the coffin’), and the new Ground NP (‘the cold water barrel’), all contain the demonstrative se, which is grammaticalizing into a definite article in spoken Finnish (Laury 1997; otherwise Finnish has no articles). In this context, se contributes to the spatial interpretation of the second part of the bidirectional construction by making both the Figure and the Ground definite

32

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and (more) referential: ”There was this particular barrel and this particular coffin, and the latter was put on top of the former”. The first mention of the water barrel, however, is clearly indefinite and non-specific: it could be any water barrel. The narrator explains what people used to do with them, and why. There are other demonstratives in this excerpt as well, and the underlined siältä on line 5 deserves comment. Finnish demonstrative pronouns (glossed in this and other examples with ‘it’) have full case inflection, including the six local cases; additionally, there are locative adverbs which are formed from the singular demonstratives and which have only the six local case forms (glossed with ‘there’; see Laury 1996:66–68, 74–81)8. The internal local cases of the pronouns and the locative adverbs are both used to refer to locations: Laury (1996:81–84) has shown that the difference between these categories is that the internal local case forms of the demonstrative pronouns are used for referents which are conceptualised as Figures, while the locative adverb forms refer to entities conceptualised as Grounds. Siältä in example (5) is a locative adverb formed from the demonstrative se, and it refers to the water barrel as the source of cold air; its form thus further supports the analysis that the water barrel is conceptualised as a Ground at this point in the narration. 4.4.

Why is one direction not enough? It could be hypothesised that speakers utilise bidirectional conceptualization because it might be easier, faster or more natural to process a description of a spatial relation along one spatial axis rather than letting the viewpoint jump randomly from one axis to another during the description. This is not to say that the axes are isolated or absolute in their existence, but that there are stronger conceptual links between the poles of one axis than between poles of different axes: since the axes are inherently bipolar, to mention one pole is to activate the whole axis, making it accessible. The use of bidirectional constructions could thus be seen as at least partially motivated by a desire for the support that a solid and stable spatial axis can give to the quality of information processing. A speaker’s ability to refer repeatedly and from different perspectives to the same referent is an important feature of language organisation (sometimes called elaboration of descriptions, see Talmy 2000a:238–239). Bidirectional constructions are used for this purpose, as they aim for finer characterisation of spatial scenes — multiple grammatical or lexical constructions expressing the same referent or relation provide multiple perspectives on and alternative conceptualizations of that referent or relation (Langacker 1987:107, 110). Treating an axis as a bipolar whole both in conceptualization and in linguistic description is thus at least partially motivated by the efficiency of production and comprehension. Furthermore, different bidirectionalities in 8 Here, the distinctions between the three demonstrative stems tämä ‘this’, tuo ‘that’, and se ‘it’,are ignored, as only se-stems occur in the data.


33

conceptualising and describing space support one another; consider the bidirectionality of sensory paths. Sight is a good example of fictive or subjective motion: in reality, nothing moves, but the sensory experience is conceptualised as a path between the viewer or hearer and the stimulus. Sensory paths offer a parallel for spatial bidirectionality: it is possible to conceptualise the fictive motion between the experiencer (the viewer/listener) and the stimulus bidirectionally, as a path emanating from either of the two, as in example (6) (Talmy 2000a:115–116; see also Langacker 1991a:157–160). (6) (Talmy 2000a:115) (a) I can hear/smell him all the way from where I’m standing. (b) I can hear/smell him all the way from where he’s standing. In cognitive grammar, semantic structure is regarded as being based on conventional imagery, and imagery is defined as “our ability to construe a conceived situation in alternate ways” (Langacker 1987:110–111, 116–141). Different aspects of conventional imagery are summarised by Casad (1995:32), and all are characteristic of bidirectional constructions: (a) alternate construals of scenes (a defining property of the bidirectional construction); (b) alternate paths of composition (the components of a bidirectional structure are composed of different morphemes, opposite spatial grams); (c) alternate salience of parts (in a bidirectional construction, typically two entities in an event are highlighted in turn); (d) different levels of specificity (bidirectional constructions may be used for nesting); and (e) alternate speaker vantage points (bidirectional constructions show a scene from two perspectives). 5.

Accentuation: expressing contrast The data studied here consist of spoken non-standard language, so prosodic features can be taken into account when considering the functions of bidirectional constructions. In this section accentuation is shown to support the changing of viewpoints in narration. In his discussion of activation cost, Chafe (1994) observes that a primary accent (which in his study is defined as a pitch deviation on an element which is at the same time either loud or lengthened or both, represented with an accent mark ´) that gives exaggerated prominence to a word has the function of expressing contrast. One of his examples is given in (7): (7) a (A) b (A) c (B) d (B) e (B)

(Chafe 1994:77) ... Have the .. ánimals, .. ever attacked anyone ín a car? ... Well I well í hèard of an élephant, –that sát dówn on a v`w´ one time.

KRISTA OJUTKANGAS

34

For our purposes, the interesting primary accent is that on the preposition in (7b): according to Chafe (1994:77), “the preposition in –– received a primary accent because of a contrast with a tragic event discussed earlier in this conversation, an event in which someone had been trampled by an elephant outside a car.” Obviously this is one of the functions of bidirectional constructions as well: to contrast the viewpoints and the poles of the spatial axis. This can be seen in the accentuation patterns, since the grams in bidirectional constructions have a primary accent (represented with " in the examples) much more often than the same grams in other contexts have, and there are far fewer weakly accented grams in bidirectional constructions than there are in general (see Table 29). All grams (N = 1719) Primary accent

Grams in bidirectional constructions (N = 293) 118 (42.91%)

496

(29.25%)

Secondary accent

626

(36.91%)

100

(36.36%)

Weakly accented

574

(33.84%)

57

(20.73%)

Table 2: Accent patterns of all grams designating spatial relationships on vertical and frontal axes and of these grams in bidirectional constructions The data suggest that the accent also correlates with the position of the gram: the grams in second position have primary accent more often than the ones in first position. These figures are in Table 3.

Primary accent

Grams in first position (N = 137*) 54 (39.42%)

Grams in second position (N = 139*) 65 (46.76%)

Secondary accent

52

48

(37.96%)

(34.53%)

Weakly accented 31 (22.63%) 26 (18.71%) *The numbers of grams in first and second position are different because in some cases one pole is expressed by more than one gram.

Table 3: Accent patterns of the grams in first and second position of bidirectional constructions However, a closer look reveals that it is in fact typical for both grams to have a primary accent, not just the second (see example 2). To highlight the contrast 9

Typically elements such as pronouns and grams are weakly accented (Chafe 1994:77). In the present data, the total number of accented grams in both categories is surprisingly high, 66.2% (all) and 78.5% (bidirectional) altogether. One possible explanation for this is that because of their case inflection, the Finnish grams have two or three syllables. Shorter elements are more likely to be weakly accented.


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between two spatial poles, the speaker can place a primary accent on both grams, not only to direct attention to the spatial relation the grams themselves express, but also, even primarily, in order to emphasise the coherence of the construction as a whole.10 There is a remarkable difference between the proportion of all grams that get a primary accent and the proportion of second-position grams that get a primary accent, but the placement of a primary accent is not meaningful on its own. It may rather be a signal to the hearer to look for the purpose of the accent somewhere else, in this case, earlier in the discourse. Expressing contrast would be impossible without an earlier-mentioned entity with which to create the contrast. Obviously not all bidirectional constructions express contrast, some just an alternative viewpoint, but the common feature is that the accentuation pattern itself contributes to the establishment of a clear axis between two spatial relations; it is a sign of a connection between them. 6.

How are the axes drawn conceptually?

6.1.

Windowing of paths To explore how the axes are drawn conceptually I will use Talmy’s concept of distribution of attention. It is based on the flexibility of the human perceptual system11, our ability to focus on selected parts of different event frames, to select a Figure and a Ground, and to foreground and background selected elements. Human sensory perception is selective in this way: we are able to focus our sight on certain features of a referent or an event, or to selectively listen to certain elements from a mass of sound around us, and disregard the rest of the sensory input. The process of foregrounding is called windowing of attention: linguistic forms place windows over a referent scene. The foregrounded portion of an event frame is windowed, and the backgrounded portion (that without an overt linguistic expression) is gapped. For spatial descriptions such as those studied in the present paper, windowing means highlighting different components of a spatial relation in turn (Talmy 2000a: Ch. 4, p. 257–259, 304– 305). For example, an open path where a concrete object moves physically from one place to another can be described (a) with maximal windowing over the whole path, (b) with gapping over one portion of the path, or (c) with 10 This prosodic pattern of expressing contrastive focus with using a two-peaked intonation has been described in Finnish linguistics by Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979:309–310), Karlsson (1982:173), and Vilkuna (1989:107–110), among others. The topic of Vilkuna’s study is Finnish word order, and a closer look at the word order of bidirectional constructions would probably be illuminating. 11 Talmy’s (2000a:304–305) view is that the distribution of attention is based on a particular cognitive system, the “attentional system”, which is able to establish active connections with various aspects of other cognitive systems, such as vision. In the present study, it is sufficient to think of this on the concrete level of human perception.

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windowing over one single portion of the path, resulting in expressions such as those in (8): (8)

(Talmy 2000a:266.) The crate that was in the aircraft’s cargo bay fell –

(a)

out of the plane [initial] through the air [medial] into the ocean [final portion]. out of the plane [initial] into the ocean [final portion]. into the ocean [final portion].

(b) (c)

An important feature of the distribution of attention is that even when only one phase of the event is windowed, it is possible to infer the remainder of it, given the appropriate linguistic and non-linguistic context. It is thus possible for a hearer to reconstruct a conceptually full path from a partially gapped one (Talmy 2000a:258, 266, 422). Gapping of the medial portion of a path (as in 8b) may lead to its minimisation in the speakers’conceptualization of the path, and this extreme backgrounding makes the initial and final portions seem to run together contiguously. Talmy’s term for this cognitive phenomenon is conceptual splicing (2000a:270, 306; cf. chunking, Langacker 1991a:220). Windowing is not a new idea in linguistics; the same principles are present in cognitive grammar’s concepts of profile and base, specificity, and scope of predication (Langacker 1991a:5–12; for an illuminating example of the selection of the entities that participate in a linguistic description see pp. 213–216). Such insights draw direct parallels between linguistic descriptions and the non-linguistic human perceptual system, giving a phenomenon such as windowing an explanation which is based on human cognitive skills. 6.2.

Spatial axes as paths A spatial axis can be conceived of as a path, and its windowing patterns are parallel to those of a path event frame (example 8). In a bidirectional description the extreme ends of the axis are windowed and the medial portion is gapped, resulting in conceptual splicing (Talmy 2000a:270, 281) where the medial portion becomes conceptually reduced: mention of the poles creates an image of the whole axis. I see this as being the way in which the axes are drawn: they are conceptually created between windows of attention. Recall that the axes are not “inherent”or “absolute”in their existence; they are creations of the speaker’s conceptualization of the spatial scene that is being observed and described. The poles that determine the orientation of the axis are identified by the focussing of attention, by placing windows of attention over certain portions of the spatial relation, and gapping others.


37

There are two windowing patterns that are responsible of the creation of axes in bidirectional constructions, and the patterns are determined by the type of the verb used in the construction. The axis can be drawn either dynamically or statically; dynamic or static description is based on the way the speaker conceives of the situation she is about to describe. Neither needs to be real, or “factive”(Talmy 2000a:100). If the spatial relation is conceptualised as dynamic, its linguistic description follows the path of the moving Figure or the path of the action the Figure participates in: the axis is created dynamically, by path windowing (Talmy 2000a:265–270). The verbs in dynamic bidirectional constructions are motion verbs or other dynamic verbs. Bidirectionality implies that there are (minimally) two paths or two construals of one path in conceptualization of the event, and the windows of attention are placed over those portions of the paths that are required for creating the axis. The windowed portions are expressed by the antonymic grams. In example (5), for instance, the axis is created by describing caused motion performed by human agents12 on the objects that function as Figures and Grounds. Since the action of placing one object on top of the other is described from the viewpoints of both objects, it is expressed by two different caused motion verbs (viedä ‘place’and laskea ‘put down’), and attention is focussed on the phase of action in which the objects meet. Windows of attention are thus placed on the final portion of each caused motion path, and the vertical axis is created between them. The windowing pattern is similar when the motion is fictive; the difference is that here the motion happens in the speaker’s mind, when she mentally traces some dimension of the object described. In example (2), for instance, one direction of the Figure’s motion is negated, and the context is counterfactual. The initial portions of the two paths — one fictive, the other factive — are nevertheless windowed, and the vertical axis is drawn between them. If the spatial relation is conceptualised as static, it is expressed by a static verb, and the Figures are observed in relation to the Ground’s environment. The axis is created by what could be called “field windowing”, where windows of attention are placed over opposite sides of the Ground, by locating parts within a whole. The direction of the axis is thus based on the conceptualization of the shape and orientation of the Ground. This is illustrated by example (3), which first introduces the Ground referent as a general frame and then uses it as a background for the highlighted or windowed parts, the locations of which are expressed by spatial antonyms. In example (4), the vertical axis is created by describing layers in a container, with the container functioning as an implicit overall Ground for the 12 The verbs in 6 are in passive, which in Finnish generally implies a human agent (see Helasvuo, this volume).

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whole setting. Windows of attention are placed on each layer in turn, and their relations to each other are expressed by grams referring to opposite poles of the axis. Although the verbs in (4) are dynamic, they express a change of state the Figures experience, not active manipulation performed by the narrator or any other agent. In both examples (2) and (5), the axis is created by the action of a Figure, the “moving or conceptually movable entity”, as Talmy defines it (2000a:312), and it is thus natural that these windowing patterns are dynamic. In (3) and (4), on the other hand, the placing of the windows and thus the direction of the axis are based on the shape and orientation of the (overall) Ground, and since stability is one of Ground’s general characteristics, it is unsurprising that these windowing patterns are static. Both dynamic and static spatial descriptions involve changes in the viewpoint from which a relation is conceived of and described: motion or action related to the spatial relation is described from two actual or fictive directions, the description of the spatial relation is refined by nested bidirectional locatives, and within narration, a new viewpoint can be opened every time a new Figure is introduced, leaving the Ground role for the previous Figure. Together with the windowing of attention, the changes in viewpoint are responsible for creating the spatial axis that is used in the description of the Motion event. 7.

Conclusions In this paper I have discussed one aspect of spatial conceptualization, the utilisation of axes in the conceptual partition of space. This study is usagebased: the bidirectional constructions explored emerged unexpectedly in an analysis of spatial grams meaning ‘up’, ‘down’, ‘front’and ‘back’in spoken narratives. The aim of this paper has been to describe these constructions, to classify them, to analyse their functions in narrative discourse, and to investigate the means by which the axes are conceptually created. By definition, the bidirectional construction implies a change in the conceptualization of the spatial relation; the classification of the constructions is based on this property. Addressing the question of why one direction is not enough, I argue that the use of bidirectional constructions is motivated by the support that a solid and stable spatial axis can give to the quality or efficiency of information processing. The axes are inherently bipolar; they can be activated and made accessible as wholes by the mention of just one of their poles. Bidirectional constructions allow elaboration of a spatial description, as they are used for nesting locative expressions, and the creation of finer characterisations of spatial configurations. Bidirectional constructions are used as a device for building narration along the axis chosen by the speaker, by introducing new Figures that may turn earlier Figures into Grounds, with all these entities piling


39

up on one axis. This property functions as a means of tracking referents through discourse. The combination of opposite spatial grams is not random; their joint appearance has a meaning in the discourse, and this is what makes the bidirectional constructions constructions. The accentuation patterns of the constructions further supports their unity, since when both grammatical elements are given a primary accent it ties them together, contributing to the perception of a spatial axis. Such accentuation also underlines the bidirectional constructions’function of expressing contrast. The means of conceptualization of the spatial axes was explained using the concept of windowing of attention. The windowing patterns of bidirectional constructions can be either dynamic or static. In dynamic path windowing, the poles of the axes are created by placing windows of attention over appropriate portions of (caused) motion paths; the paths connect at the spatial relation described by the bidirectional construction. In static field windowing, the windows of attention are placed over appropriate portions of the Ground entity. Bidirectional constructions are excellent instances of the linguistic realisation of certain aspects of conventional imagery. Taking multiple viewpoints of the event a spatial relation participates in enriches the picture; relating the viewpoints on one spatial axis makes the description conceptually solid. This study of bidirectional constructions has revealed that the inherent bipolarity of the basic spatial axes can be utilised as a relatively systematic strategy in spatial conceptualization. It has also shown that a conceptualization strategy primarily used in spatial language can also have further functions in discourse, in building the narrative, and in reference tracking. Bidirectional and similar constructions call for further research — cross-linguistic, usage-based studies in cognitive as well as other frameworks — in order to expand our knowledge of spatial conceptualization and language.

“I WOKE UP FROM THE SOFA” SUBJECTIVE DIRECTIONALITY IN FINNISH EXPRESSIONS OF A SPATIO-COGNITIVE TRANSFER

TUOMAS HUUMO University of Turku

1. Introduction A common linguistic way of representing relationships between human beings and their environment is to conceptualize them as reference points surrounded by a dominion, a “conceptual region to which a particular reference point affords direct access”(see Langacker 1993). It is with regard to this dominion that we establish and evaluate other entities that interact with the human participants. For example, possessive relationships are represented in many languages as the presence of the possessed within the dominion of the possessor. In morphosyntactic terms, the possessor is then referred to by a locative expression, which sets up the possessive dominion where the possessee is situated (for different linguistic ways of representing possession see Heine 1997b). In this paper I examine the interaction between cognitive dominions and space as conceptualized in the Finnish language. The term ‘cognitive dominion’ refers to the dominion with a sentient reference-point involved in a cognitive relationship, i.e. a relationship consisting of a cognitive interaction between the reference point and its surroundings. This interaction may be based on mental events such as perception, awareness or consciousness. The cognitive dominion consists of what the sentient reference point perceives, thinks or knows at a particular point of time. Verbs that refer to such cognitive interaction include for instance verbs of perception (see, hear, feel), awareness (know, think, remember, forget) and consciousness (be awake, fall asleep, wake up). The sentient reference point will be referred to in the following as the experiencer (i.e., an animate participant engaged in a mental activity who is neither an active initiator of the event [an agent] nor an object that undergoes a change as a result of the event [a patient]), and the other participants of the cognitive interaction as stimuli. If the cognitive relationship is dynamic and consists of a change, then it may involve fictive motion by the stimulus into or out of the cognitive dominion of the experiencer. Expressions of cognitive interaction also tend to include what could be called the fictive stationariness of the experiencer itself (for the

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concepts of fictive motion and stationariness see Talmy 2000a). Canonical examples of fictive motion include expressions such as The highway goes from Turku to Helsinki, where the static position of an elongated entity is expressed by using motion verbs and directional locative elements. In cognitive linguistics such expressions are usually analyzed as reflecting the directionality of a mental scanning performed by the conceptualizer, where the situation is approached and represented from a subjectively selected perspective. In the case of expressions involving a cognitive dominion, fictive motion means that even when in the extralinguistic referent situation the stimulus remains stationary and passive, it may be represented linguistically as if moving with regard to the experiencer’s cognitive dominion. Fictive stationariness, on the other hand, means that the experiencer, which itself may be actively involved in manipulating the extensions of its cognitive dominion (e.g. by directing its perceptive organs), is usually represented as static. Interestingly, in the Finnish system of conceptualizing cognitive relationships, fictive motion of the stimulus with regard to the experiencer’s cognitive dominion (into or out of it) often involves its fictive motion in space as well. In my paper I pay special attention to the representation of spatial relations in sentences that indicate a change in a cognitive relationship, and show that fictive spatial motion is often involved in a relationship that actually only consists of a change in the relationship between the stimulus and the cognitive dominion of the experiencer. Finnish is an interesting object for this study, since it is explicit in representing the directionality of locative relationships: it has a rich system of locative cases and locative adpositions, in which a fundamental feature is the directionality opposition between directional (‘to’, ‘from’) and static (‘in/at’) locative elements (i.e. case endings or adpositions; see Huumo and Ojutkangas, this volume). In a cognitive relationship, Finnish uses its directional locative expressions to refer to the spatial position of a stimulus that enters or exits the cognitive dominion of the experiencer, even if the stimulus does not move spatially at all. In general, a situation where the stimulus enters the experiencer’s cognitive dominion involves a fictive motion by the stimulus away from its spatial location, which is referred to with a ‘from’ case. Correspondingly, a situation where the stimulus leaves the experiencer’s cognitive dominion involves fictive motion by the stimulus into its spatial location, referred to with a ‘to’case. Thus in Finnish one can for instance find or buy things “from”places and leave or forget them “into”places (1−2). (1)

Elmeri löys-i kirja-n kirjasto-sta. Elmer find-PST+3SG book-ACC library-ELA “Elmer found the book in [lit. “from”] the library.”

SUBJECTIVE DIRECTIONALITY

(2)

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Elmeri unoht-i kirja-n auto-on. Elmer forget-PST+3SG book-ACC car-ILL “Elmer forgot [= left] the book in [lit. “into”] the car”.

In this paper I also study semantically related expressions where a sentient entity itself undergoes a change of state with regard to its consciousness or existence. Such expressions resemble expressions of a cognitive dominion in that they use dynamic local cases to designate static spatial relationships. This time, however, the entity whose spatial position is at issue is the experiencer itself. For example, when the experiencer ceases to exist or loses its consciousness, a ‘to’ case is often used to mark its spatial position; if it gains consciousness, a ‘from’ case is used. Thus one can for instance fall asleep or die “into”a place and wake up “from”a place (3−4). (3)

Elmeri nukaht-i sohva-lle. Elmer fall.asleep-PST+3SG sofa-ALL “Elmer fell asleep on [lit. “onto”] the sofa.”

(4)

Elmeri heräs-i sohva-lta. Elmer wake.up-PST+3SG sofa-ABL “Elmer woke up on [lit. “from”] the sofa.”

In this paper, I argue that such uses of the directional locative expressions suggest that in the conceptualization reflected by the use of grammatical structures in Finnish, possession, consciousness, awareness and other cognitive dominions are conceived of as directly interacting with space. The metaphor motivating such a conceptualization interprets cognitive dominions as places, and reflects the common principle of spatial motion that an entity cannot occupy two separate locations at a time: motion into a new location necessarily involves motion away from an earlier one. The discussion falls into seven parts. I first introduce the uses of the Finnish local cases in representing the relationships of perception, cognition, and possession (Section 2). In Section 3 I discuss earlier accounts of the relevant uses of the cases. In Section 4 I take a closer look at the spatial uses of the local cases in expressions of sensory perception where they mark the position of stimulus. Section 5 examines more abstract cognitive relationships which are not directly dependent on actual sensory input, e.g. locative expressions used with verbs like forget, find, and remember. Section 6 deals with expressions where a sentient entity undergoes a fundamental change of state (often involving an existential sense) and this motivates the use of directional cases in locatives designating its position. In Section 7, I study the aspectual meanings of the directional cases in expressions of cognition, and demonstrate that they include a telic meaning which

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is missing in the corresponding examples with static cases. Section 8 sums up the results of the discussion. 2.

Finnish local cases in expressions of space and cognition As shown in Huumo and Ojutkangas (this volume), the Finnish local cases are used in many different functions, some of which involve a human or animate participant that is conceptualized as a reference-point surrounded by a dominion where another entity is situated. The best example of this in Finnish is probably the possessive construction. However, possession is not the only humanrelated relationship that is expressed by the local cases. As in many other languages, the Finnish locative expressions (cases and adpositions) also express more abstract cognitive relationships where a mental content is transferred between sentient participants (5–6). (5)

Elmeri-lle tul-i käsky Elmer-ALL come-PST+3SG order “Elmer received an order from Lisa.”

Liisa-lta. Lisa-ABL

(6)

Elmeri kuul-i jutu-n Elmer hear-PST+3SG story-ACC “Elmer heard the story from Lisa.”

Liisa-lta. Lisa-ABL

In (5), both animate participants receive a locative coding, Lisa as the source (‘from’) and Elmer as the goal (‘to’) of the verbal content transferred between them. Finnish thus codes the transference of a mental content from one person to another in the same way it codes spatial motion from one place to another. In example (6), Lisa is again coded as the source, but this time the recipient of the information, Elmer, is coded as the subject of the verb meaning ‘hear’. Such examples display a strong analogy between the spatial and cognitive uses of the local cases. Mental contents (i.e. knowledge and information) can move “into”or “out of”the cognitive dominions of sentient participants in very much the same way as concrete objects move into or out of places. However, as Alhoniemi (1975) has pointed out, there are also important differences between the two domains. One important difference is that a mental content usually continues its existence in the source dominion even after it has been transferred to the recipient dominion, whereas a concrete entity in actual spatial motion must leave its original location when moving into another. For instance, in (6) Lisa does not herself lose the mental content when she tells it to Elmer in the same way she loses a pen if she gives it to Elmer. Among expressions involving a cognitive dominion, it is possessive expressions that in this respect most resemble spatial ones: a possessed normally has one possessor at a time, and when a new possessive relationship is established the earlier one must be terminated. Expressions of a mental transfer such as (6), on the other hand, rather resemble


45

spatial expressions of a spread, where the extension of the trajector itself changes when it proceeds into a new location: e.g. The fire spread to the attic (Alhoniemi 1975). This example does not say that the fire vanished from its original location after spreading into the new one. Cognitive transfers do not always require interaction between two sentient participants in the sense demonstrated by (2). An experiencer may acquire mental contents from different kinds of sources, such as inanimate objects (7–8). (7)

Elmeri luk-i vitsi-n lehde-stä. Elmer read-PST+3SG joke-ACC paper-ELA “Elmer read a/the joke in [“from”] the paper.”

(8)

Elmeri tarkist-i hevose-n iä-n hampa-i-sta. Elmer check-PST+3SG horse-GEN age-ACC tooth-PL-ELA “Elmer checked the horse’s age from its teeth.”

In (7) and (8) the experiencer receives information by (visually) observing a concrete object, i.e. the newspaper or the horse’s teeth. The linguistic expression that refers to this concrete object of observation is again coded with a ‘from’case. In the conceptualization of the situation, an abstract mental content proceeds from the source to the experiencer, only this time the source is inanimate. Because of this, the present examples can be argued to exemplify a blend of spatial and cognitive motion: what “moves” is a cognitive content, but the source of the motion is a concrete object which does not intentionally participate in the transfer of the cognitive content, nor does it have the ability to “cognize” the content itself. This fact distinguishes the present examples from those discussed above (e.g. 5), where both the source and the goal of the cognitive transfer are animate entities and actively contribute to the transference. Examples like (7) and (8) form a bridge between the two domains, spatial and cognitive, and underlie the extensive usage of the Finnish local cases in designating relationships between sentient beings and their environment. 3.

Earlier accounts of the cognitive uses of the directional cases Uses of the Finnish directional local cases in expressions that involve no actual motion have received substantial attention in studies of Finnish syntax. In these works, uses of the cases with verbs of cognition have been studied in connection with certain other uses that lack an obvious semantic motivation. The relevant uses of the cases in fact include three main types: (i) cognitive expressions, such as the ones discussed in the previous sections; (ii) existential expressions which represent coming into existence as motion into a location (example 9) and cessation of existence as motion away from the location (example 10); and (iii) expressions that indicate inchoative static situations

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loosely characterizable as ‘remaining’ (example 11, where the verb jäädä ‘remain’takes a directional locative argument). (9)

Piha-lle kasvo-i puu. yard-ADE grow-PST+3SG tree “A tree grew [= appeared] in [lit. “into”] the yard.”

(10)

Kylä-stä palo-i kirkko. village-ELA burn-PST+3SG church “The village lost its church in the fire” [lit.: “From village burned church”].

(11)

Pyörä jä-i piha-lle. bike remain-PST+3SG yard-ALL “The bike remained in [lit. “into”] the yard.”

We thus see that the topic of our present discussion, expressions involving a cognitive dominion (group i above), is in fact part of a more extensive usage of the directional cases in contexts where their semantic motivation is not selfevident. However, it is not a priori clear that these different uses of the directional cases have anything in common, except that they are “exotic”for someone used to the locative system of many familiar Indo-European languages. The semantic motivations underlying these uses may well differ from each other. For instance, the directionality of existence finds direct motivation in the other spatial uses of the local cases: when something comes into existence it appears in the location, and when it ceases to exist it disappears from the location, if the perspective of the event is limited to the location alone (cf. Huumo 2003). In Finnish linguistics, it has been argued that these uses of the directional cases have a historical motivation. Tunkelo (1931) points out that some of the relevant verbs were originally verbs of motion, but underwent a semantic change whereby they started to indicate more abstract relationships; they nevertheless maintained the original directional case marking of their locative arguments (the verb jäädä ‘remain’, for instance, originally meant ‘come’). According to this view, the earlier meaning of these verbs motivates their use together with directional cases. However, as Tunkelo himself admits, only few such verbs can actually be demonstrated to have undergone this kind of a semantic change. On the other hand, similar uses of directional locative expressions have been observed in many Uralic languages (Tunkelo 1931, Hakulinen 1979:522−532), which suggests that the phenomenon itself is old. With respect to the present paper, it should be emphasized that my purpose is not to provide an explanation for all these uses of the directional cases (many of which are quite idiomatic and petrified, depending on particular isolated verbs), but only their uses in connection with cognitive verbs and expressions of a change of state.


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A popular explanation for such special uses of the directional cases, supported by many grammarians (e.g. Tunkelo 1931, Penttilä 1957, Hakulinen 1979), is that the directional ‘to’cases reflect the tendency to “understand the end result of an event as associated with the event itself”, as Tunkelo puts it (1931:221; see also Hakulinen 1979). More specifically, the idea is that a changeof-state expression with a directional locative in fact combines a telic event (e.g. the change of state) with an inceptive existential relationship, where the latter consists of the appearance of an entity in a location. For instance, a cognitive change-of-state expression like (12) thus involves the existential meaning of a sleeping person “appearing upon”the sofa. (12)

Hän nukaht-i sohva-lle. s/he fall.asleep-PST+3SG sofa-ALL “S/he fell asleep on the sofa.”

In present-day cognitive linguistic terms we can rephrase this explanation by saying that such expressions represent an idiosyncratic profiling of the event, or a windowing of attention over the event in the sense of Talmy (2000a), where not only the achievement of an end result but also the state that follows this achievement is included within the scope of predication (for similar phenomena related to the aspectual object marking in Finnish, see Huumo 2005). In his paper inspired by the ideas of generative semantics, Rahkonen (1977) took this line of argumentation further and suggested that a temporal meaning in fact underlies such uses of the directional local cases. According to Rahkonen’s view, a ‘to’ case used in such examples in fact has the temporal meaning where the presence of an entity in the location extends over the completion of the actual event. If a static locative expression is used, the sentence lacks such implications. Example (13), for instance, has a static locative expression in the adessive case and gives no implications about the location of the tower after the event of building it has been completed. In cognitive linguistic terms, the scope of the predication is limited to the event of ‘building’itself. In contrast, example (14), which has the directional allative (‘to’) case, specifically means that the tower remains on the table after being completed, thus extending the scope of the predication beyond the actual event of ‘building’. (13)

Lapsi rakens-i torni-n pöydä-llä. child build-PST+3SG tower-ACC table-ADE “The child built a tower on the table.”

(14)

Lapsi rakens-i torni-n pöydä-lle. child build-PST+3SG tower-ACC table-ALL “The child built a tower on [lit.: “to, onto”] the table.”

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Correspondingly, in Rahkonen’s argument, the ‘from’cases can be used to designate the location of a participant before the actual event takes place. For instance the ‘from’case elative in (15) means that the money was in the pocket before it was found. (15)

Hän löys-i raha-a tasku-sta-an. s/he find-PST+3SG money-PTV pocket-ELA-3SGPX “S/he found some money in [lit. “from”] her/his pocket.”

Similar arguments based on the idea that the Finnish directional cases are motivated by a temporal meaning have been proposed in the international linguistic literature by Dahl (1987; see also Croft 2001:116−117) and Fong (1998). Dahl (1987:152−154) argues that Finnish verbs with such meanings as ‘remain’, ‘leave’and ‘forget’, which take locative arguments in a ‘to’or ‘onto’ case (see examples 16, 17 and 18 below), resemble actual motion verbs “in involving at least two points in time”. On the other hand, ‘from’cases that are used with verbs like ‘search’and ‘find’(examples 19 and 20), mark “the point at which the object is situated at the beginning of what is said to take place in the sentence”. Thus, according to Dahl’s explanation, Finnish emphasizes temporal as well as spatial criteria in its conceptualization of a goal (and a source). (16)

Poika jä-i boy remain-PST+3SG “The boy remained at school.”

koulu-un. school-ILL

(17)

Poika jätt-i lauku-n boy leave-PST+3SG bag-ACC “The boy left the bag at school.”

(18)

Poika unoht-i lauku-n koulu-un. boy forget-PST+3SG bag-ACC school-ILL “The boy forgot the bag at school.”

(19)

Poika ets-i laukku-a koulu-sta. boy search-PST+3SG bag-PTV school-ELA “The boy searched for the bag at school.”

(20)

Poika löys-i lauku-n boy find-PST+3SG bag-ACC “The boy found the bag at school.”

koulu-un. school-ILL

koulu-sta. school-ELA

What makes such explanations problematic is that it is easy to come up with counterexamples. First of all, jäädä ‘remain’is by no means the only Finnish


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verb designating an event that takes place in one location but involves “two points of time”. There are semantically similar verbs, such as pysyä ‘stay’(21) and jatkua ‘continue’(22), which nevertheless take locative arguments in static cases only. (21)

Poika pysy-i koulu-ssa. boy stay-PST+3SG school-INE “The boy stayed at school.”

(22)

Tappelu jatku-i piha-lla. fighting continue-PST+3SG yard-ADE “The fighting continued in the yard.”

Semantically, the verbs in (21) and (22) would seem to fulfil Dahl’s criteria; they clearly involve one location but (at least) two points of time. A more appropriate way of characterizing their meaning would be to say that they designate the temporally continuous presence of an entity in a location, extending over an unbounded continuum of “points of time”. In other words, the event is aspectually unbounded. Another way of interpreting the temporal explanation is to admit that among the two points in time to be considered, one has to precede or follow the actual event in order to motivate the use of a directional case (as in fact argued by Rahkonen 1977). Thus examples like (21) and (22) would not count as counterexamples, since the situation they designate is atelic and thus does not bring about a state as its end result. However, even this version of the explanation turns out to be problematic as soon as we try to apply it more generally. The following examples show that the mere presence of a participant in the location before or after the event is not sufficient to launch the use of a directional locative. With the intended reading these examples only allow static locatives (23 and 25); if used, a directional locative necessarily indicates actual spatial motion into or away from the location (24 and 26). (23)

Lapsi aloitt-i leiki-n lattia-lla. child start-PST+3SG game-ACC floor-ADE “The child started a/the game on the floor.”

(24)

Lapsi aloitt-i leiki-n lattia-lta. child start-PST+3SG game-ACC floor-ABL “The child started a/the game on the floor”[and moved elsewhere].

(25)

Lapsi lopett-i leiki-n lattia-lla. child stop-PST+3SG game-ACC floor-ADE “The child stopped the game on the floor.”

50 (26)

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Lapsi lopett-i leiki-n lattia-lle. child stop-PST+3SG game-ACC floor-ALL “The child stopped the game on the floor” [it had moved there from another location].

In the inchoative sentence (23) we thus cannot use the ablative ‘from’case to convey the meaning that the child was on the floor before it started to play; the static adessive must be used instead. If the ablative ‘from’ case is used (example 24), then the sentence must mean that the child actually moved away from the floor after it had started the game. Correspondingly, in (25) only the static adessive ‘on’is possible if we want to say that the child remained on the floor after finishing the game. The allative ‘to’case in (26) means that the child moved onto the floor from some other location before it stopped the game. In all, these examples show that the mere presence of an entity in its location before or after the event is not sufficient motivation for the use of the directional cases; other factors have to be involved. 4.

Expressions of sensory perception In this section I take a closer look at the use of directional cases in expressions of sensory perception (cf. Huumo 2004). Sensory perception is often conceptualized as involving fictive motion between the experiencer and the stimulus, the directionality being either from the experiencer towards the stimulus or vice versa (for general discussions see Lakoff 1993 and Talmy 2000a:115– 116). I pay closest attention to visual perception, but also consider examples where other senses are involved. In general, the Finnish basic non-agentive vision verb nähdä ‘see’accepts directional locatives that mark the position of the experiencer, whereas the position of the stimulus is most naturally referred to by a static expression: (27)

Nä-i-n paraati-n parvekkee-lta. see-PST-1SG parade-ACC balcony-ABL “I saw the parade from the balcony.”

(28)

Nä-i-n paraati-n parvekkee-lle. see-PST-1SG parade-ACC balcony-ALL “I saw the parade from [lit. “to”] the balcony.”

(29)

Nä-i-n paraati-n kadu-lla. see-PST-1SG parade-ACC street-ADE “I saw the parade on the street.”

Examples (27) and (28) show that the position of the experiencer can be designated by either the ablative ‘from’case or the allative ‘to’case. The ‘from’


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case is the unmarked alternative, whereas the ‘to’case in (28) foregrounds the experiencer’s ability to see and contrasts the experiencer’s current location with other alternatives, i.e. ‘up to’.More precisely, this means that in (28) there may be an implication that the experiencer does not need to move into another location to observe the parade, whereas (27) does not convey such implications. (For details, cf. Huumo 2004). In (29) the locative element designates the position of the stimulus (the parade) and here the only natural alternative is the static adessive ‘at/on’case. Another interpretation of (29) is the one where ‘the street’is an allembracing setting where both the experiencer and the stimulus are situated. An exception that allows the ‘from’case marking of locatives referring to the location of the stimulus are examples where the perceptive event involves the transition of a mental content from the stimulus to the experiencer (as in the examples discussed in Section 2). In such cases the experiencer, while visually observing the stimulus, receives information at the same time; this motivates the conceptualization of the position of the stimulus as a source. It is important to note that in such sentences the syntactic object refers to the information that proceeds from the stimulus towards the experiencer and not to the concrete target of the observation itself. The concrete target of the observation, i.e. the entity that would constitute the stimulus in canonical expressions of visual perception, is now conceptualized as the source of the mental content, and referred to by a locative element. In a way, then, such sentences demote the concrete target of visual observation to a more peripheral role as a source and select the mental content as the object. In (30), for instance, the ‘news’is the mental content that proceeds from the television to the experiencer, and in (31) the information about the addressee’s phone number is information that the experiencer receives from the phone book. (30)

Nä-i-n televisio-sta uutise-t. see-PST-1SG television-ELA news-PL “I saw the news on [lit. “from”] TV.”

(31)

Nä-i-n puhelin-luettelo-sta numero-si. see-PST-1SG phone-book-ELA number-ACC+2SGPX “I got [saw] your number from the phone book.”

If a static locative case were used in (31), then the implication of the transfer of a mental content would vanish. This is illustrated in (32), which resembles (31) but has the ‘in’case instead of the ‘from’case, and means that the speaker merely noticed the fact that the phone number was in the phone book. (32)

Nä-i-n puhelinluettelo-ssa numero-si. see-PST-1SG phone-book-INE number-ACC+2SGPX “I saw your number in the phone book.”

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The importance of a cognitive transfer as a motivator of the directional case marking also shows up in examples where the stimulus is not specified and only the target area of the observation is referred to by the locative element. Here an interesting opposition shows up between ‘to’and ‘from’cases: a ‘to’ case indicates pure visual observation (33), whereas a ‘from’case implies that the experiencer intends to find something in the location when observing it (34). (33)

Katso komero-on! look+IMP+2SG closet-ILL “Look in the closet.”

(34)

Katso komero-sta! Look+IMP+2SG closet-ELA “Check the closet [to find something].”

Such uses of the ‘from’cases in marking a cognitive transfer open the path to metaphoric extensions, where the actual visual observation is backgrounded and the acquisition of knowledge is foregrounded (35−36). In many instances the object of such expressions does not refer to the actual mental content transferred but rather to a conclusion drawn by the experiencer on the basis of what is seen, as in example (35): (35)

Kello-sta näke-e aja-n. clock-ELA see-PRS+3SG time-ACC “You can tell the time from the clock.”

(36)

Näe-n kasvo-i-sta-si ongelma-n vakavuude-n. see-PRS+1SG face-PL-ELA-2SGPX problem-GEN seriousness-ACC “I can see the seriousness of the problem from your face.”

In concrete terms, what the experiencer actually ‘sees’in these situations are of course the hands (or digits) of the clock in (35), and the expression on the addressee’s face in (36). The knowledge about the time or the thoughts of the addressee are conclusions that the experiencer draws on the basis of what s/he actually sees (see Sweetser 1990:33−34 for a discussion on how vision verbs generally develop abstract senses of verbal activity). It is interesting that if we replace the object NP of these examples with one that refers to the actual physical stimulus (and not to such a conclusion), then the case marking has to be changed to the static type. For this reason, the following examples would not accept the ‘from’cases. Note, too, that in (38) it is the external static adessive case (and not the internal inessive) that replaces the internal ‘from’ elative of example (36). This probably reflects the conceptualization of the face


53

as a two-dimensional surface in (38), whereas in (36) a three-dimensional conceptualization is involved. (37)

Nä-i-n kello-ssa see-PST-1SG clock-INE “I saw a fly on the clock.”

kärpäse-n. fly-ACC

(38)

Nä-i-n kasvo-i-lla-si see-PST-1SG face-PL-ADE-2SGPX “I saw a grin on your face.”

irvistykse-n. grin-ACC

Other sensory domains display similar contrasts, though the distribution between static and dynamic expressions may be different from what it is in the visual domain. The basic verb of audition, kuulla, accepts a static locative indicating the position of the stimulus if the stimulus is conceptualized as the entity emitting a sound, as in (39) (note that another interpretation of 39 is that the case-marked element designates a setting where both the perceiver and the stimulus are situated). (39)

Kuul-i-n piha-lla lumiaura-n. hear-PST-1SG yard-ADE snowplow-ACC “I heard the snowplow in the yard.”

A ‘from’case would also be possible in (39) (piha-lta [yard-ABL] ‘from the yard’), but in that case there would be ambiguity as to whether the locative element refers to the position of the stimulus or the experiencer. This is because with verbs of perception in general, directional locatives tend to be interpreted as designating the position of the experiencer (cf. examples 27 and 28 above, with verbs of vision). In any case, the possibility of using the ‘from’case to designate the position of the stimulus in this example shows that compared with vision, audition is more strongly associated with motion (of a sound) from the stimulus towards the experiencer. As we saw above, vision verbs only allow the ‘from’ case marking of the location of the stimulus if the stimulus is a mental content that is transferred to the experiencer. This is not required in the auditory domain. As can be expected, the auditory domain also allows the use of the ‘from’ cases in sentences where the object refers to the sound itself and not to the entity that emits it, as in (40). In such cases the location of the emitter of the sound is conceptualized as a source and referred to by a ‘from’case. Note that if the static adessive were used in (40), it would necessarily receive the interpretation of an all-embracing setting where the experiencer is also situated.

TUOMAS HUUMO

54 (40)

Kuul-i-n piha-lta lumiaura-n mylvintä-ä. hear-PST-1SG yard-ABL snowplow-GEN roaring-PTV “I heard the roaring of the snowplow from the yard.”

In the same way as with expressions of vision, the source of an auditory stimulus that is conceptualized as an abstract mental content (not a mere sound) can only be marked with a ‘from’case (41−42). (41)

Kuul-i-n radio-sta uutise-t. hear-PST-1SG radio-ELA news-ACC “I heard the news on [“from”] the radio.”

(42)

Sinu-sta kuule-e että ole-t väsynyt. you-ELA hear-PRS+3SG that be-PRS+2SG tired “One can hear from you [e.g. your voice] that you are tired.”

Roughly similar principles of locative marking seem to be at work in the sensory domains of smell and taste. Example (43), with a locative element in a static case, refers to a situation where the experiencer observes the presence of the stimulus in a location, and there is no implication of a transfer of a mental content. On the other hand, in example (44), which has the ‘from’case, the object refers to a conclusion that the experiencer draws on the basis of the sensory input. (43)

Haisto-i-n keito-ssa oudo-n maustee-n. smell-PST-1SG soup-INE strange-ACC spice-ACC “I smelled a strange spice in the soup.”

(44)

Haista-n smell-PRS+1SG

vaatte-i-sta-si cloth-PL-ELA-2SGPX

että that

ole-t be-PRS+2SG

ol-lut be-ACT+PTCP

metsä-ssä. forest-INE

“I smell it on your clothes that you have been in the woods.” In the following two examples the verbs indicate the perception of a taste. The static locative is used in (45) where the sensory perception amounts to a mere observation about the presence of the stimulus in its location. In (46), a conclusion is drawn on the basis of the sensory input, and this again motivates the conceptualization of the perceptive relationship as the transfer of a mental content. Thus the locative carries the ‘from’case marking in (46).


(45)

Maisto-i-n keito-ssa taste-PST-1SG soup-INE “I tasted garlic in the soup.”

(46)

Kahvi-sta maista-a se-n alkuperä-n. coffee-ELA taste-PRS+3SG it-GEN origin-ACC “One can taste the origin of the coffee in [lit. “from”] it.”

55

valkosipuli-n. garlic-ACC

To sum up our observations concerning the use of directional locatives with perception verbs: the general principle seems to be that a static locative element is used to mark the position of the stimulus if the sensory interaction consists of the mere observation of the presence of the stimulus in its location. In instances where the situation is conceptualized as involving the transfer of a mental content from the stimulus to the experiencer, the ‘from’cases are used. It is interesting that quite often the entity that functions as the stimulus in expressions of basic sensory observation, and is coded as the syntactic object, receives a locative coding in expressions of a mental transfer, where the object NP refers to the mental content. To put it figuratively, perceptive mental transfers represent a conceptualization involving an act of “mentally picking up something”: one uses one’s senses to acquire mental contents rather than merely observing one’s surroundings. The ‘from’case marking of the source of the information is motivated by the fictive motion of the mental content away from its original location, even though the question is in most cases one of “spreading”(in the sense discussed in Section 2) rather than the cessation of the existence of the mental content in its original location after the perceptive event. 5.

Knowledge and cognition In Section 2 we briefly discussed examples where a cognitive interaction between a sentient being and its environment motivates the use of a ‘from’case in the locative expression that indicates a source of information. In Section 4 we saw that in the domain of sensory perception, in particular in visual perception, there is a clear opposition between expressions that involve pure perception (where the position of the stimulus tends to be marked by a static case) and expressions that involve the transition of a mental content, where the experiencer draws conclusions on the basis of the sensory input received. In the current section we take a closer look at more abstract expressions of cognitive transfer, where the verb indicates a change in the content of the cognitive dominion of the experiencer, i.e., a change in his or her awareness concerning the stimulus. This change consists of the motion of a stimulus (more precisely, a mental representation of the stimulus) into or out of the cognitive dominion of the experiencer. Such expressions contain verbs with meanings like ‘find’, ‘remember’, ‘forget’and ‘leave’. They do not designate

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sensory perception directly, but sensory perception is usually involved in the cognitive change of state they designate. What distinguishes these verbs from verbs of sensory perception is that these verbs focus on the relationship between the experiencer’s cognitive dominion and the stimulus, not on the relationship between the stimulus and the external world. They merely profile one end of the fictive path traveled by the mental content when it moves into or out of the cognitive dominion. In this sense, the opposition between a perception verb like ‘see’and a cognitive transfer verb like ‘remember’(with its inchoative reading) resembles the opposition between motion verbs like ‘move’and ‘enter’: in both pairs the first verb profiles the whole path traversed by the mover, while the latter verb focuses on the end point of this path. As is the case in expressions of actual sensory perception, the position of the stimulus is marked with a directional case with verbs designating a cognitive transfer where the relationship between the stimulus and the cognitive dominion of the experiencer changes. A ‘from’case is used to mark the spatial location of the stimulus that enters the cognitive dominion of the experiencer (example 47). Correspondingly, when the stimulus exits the cognitive dominion of the experiencer a ‘to’case is used to mark its spatial location (48). (47)

Löys-i-n kirja-n pöydä-ltä. find-PST-1SG book-ACC table-ABL “I found a/the book on [lit. “from”] the table.”

(48)

Kadot-i-n tytö-n väkijoukko-on. lose-PST-1SG girl-ACC crowd-ILL “I lost the girl in [lit. “into”] the crowd.”

The ‘to’cases are also used with many other malefactive verbs that designate a situation where the experiencer loses cognitive contact with the stimulus. The following examples show that it does not matter whether this is intentional (49) or not (50–51). Note that (51) is an interesting example; here the whole location (‘the bag’) may be under the control of the experiencer, who may for instance be holding the bag when the event takes place. Nevertheless, the cessation of the cognitive relationship between the experiencer and the stimulus (the key) motivates the ‘to’case marking of the locative, just as in the other examples where the location is autonomous and independent of the experiencer. (49)

Jät-i-n koira-n koppi-in-sa. leave-PST-1SG dog-ACC dog.house-ILL-3SGPX “I left the dog in [lit. “into”] its dog-house.”

(50)

Unohd-i-n koira-n koppi-in-sa. forget-PST-1SG dog-ACC dog.house-ILL-3SGPX “I forgot the dog in [lit. “into”] its dog-house.”


(51)

57

Hukkas-i-n avaime-n kassi-in. lose-PST-1SG key-ACC bag-ILL “I lost the key in [lit. “into”] the bag.”

The opposite direction shows up with verbs indicating the acquisition of information (52) and possessions (in a broad sense; 53–55), which take directional ‘from’locatives: (52)

Lu-i-n artikkeli-si lehde-stä. read-PST-1SG article-ACC+2SGPX paper-ELA “I read your article in [lit. “from”] the paper.”

(53)

Ost-i-n kokoelma-n kirjakaupa-sta. buy-PST-1SG collection-ACC bookstore-ELA “I bought the collection at [lit. “from”] the bookstore.”

(54)

Ost-i-n talo-n Espanja-sta. buy-PST-1SG house-ACC Spain-ELA “I bought a house in [lit. “from”] Spain.”

(55)

Poliisi pidätt-i varkaa-n puisto-sta. police arrest-PST+3SG thief-ACC park-ELA “The police arrested the thief in [lit. “from”] the park.”

In (52), what moves is again only a mental content, whereas in (53) it would be possible to assume that the ‘from’case marking reflects the (implicit) meaning that the speaker took the book away from the bookstore after buying it (as argued by Hakulinen 1979). However, as example (54) shows, spatial motion is not a prerequisite for the use of the ‘from’cases in expressions of possession, and a mere change in the possessive relationship is sufficient: this example can be used in a context where the speaker actually never goes to Spain. Example (55) shows that this usage extends to expressions of general control. What the current examples show, then, is a widespread and productive system of conceptualization where cognitive dominions are in interaction with our spatial surroundings. An entity that enters a cognitive dominion is conceived as fictively moving away from its spatial location. An entity that exits a cognitive dominion is conceived as fictively moving into its spatial location. This usage covers not only expressions of actual sensory perception but also expressions of more abstract mental relationships, where the verb has no straightforward sense indicating interaction with the environment but focuses on the cognitive dominion itself.

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6.

Subjective directionality and changes-of-state In Section 3 we saw that the directional locatives are also used in expressions where no cognitive content is transferred but where the question is rather of an entity’s ‘remaining’in a location after it has undergone a change of state. In this section I first discuss examples in which a sentient experiencer undergoes a fundamental change of state: it becomes unconscious, unavailable, or unable to continue its original activity. I then compare these examples with existential expressions and expressions where the undergoer is inanimate. The data to be discussed include, first of all, expressions of a change-ofstate where the undergoer is a sentient entity who either gains or loses consciousness. The general tendency in referring to the spatial position of such an entity is to use ‘from’cases in expressions where the entity gains consciousness (56−57) and ‘to’cases in expressions where it loses consciousness (58−59). (56)

Elmeri heräs-i sohva-lta. Elmer wake.up-PST+3SG sofa-ELA “Elmer woke up on [lit. “from”] a/the sofa.”

(57)

Havahdu-i-n piha-lta. wake.up-PST-1SG yard-ABL “I woke up in [lit. “from”] the yard.”

(58)

Nukahd-i-n sohva-lle. fall.asleep-PST-1SG sofa-ALL “I fell asleep on [lit. ”onto”] the sofa.”

(59)

Elmeri sammu-i lattia-lle. Elmer pass.out-PST+3SG floor-ALL “Elmer passed out on [lit. “onto”] the floor.”

These examples would also accept static case marking of their locatives (in the inessive or the adessive) as an alternative to the directional marking. There are, however, semantic differences between the two alternatives. The directional expressions convey the meaning that being in the location is unexpected information to the experiencer who gains or loses consciousness; in this sense they can be argued to select the perspective of the experiencer undergoing the change of state and to construe the situation subjectively. For instance, (56) may imply that the fact that Elmer was on the sofa came as a surprise to him when he woke up. The static alternative, the adessive sohva-lla, would lack such an implication and would select an external perspective on the situation, in which the locative relationship is objectively construed and represented from an external, objective perspective.


59

In general, what distinguishes these examples from those discussed in the previous sections is that they involve no external experiencer observing its surroundings and receiving or emitting mental contents. In these examples the experiencer him/herself is the one undergoing a change, and the locative elements refer to his/her own position. These examples show that gaining consciousness involves a fictive motion away from the spatial position of the experiencer, while losing consciousness involves fictive motion into the spatial position of the experiencer. The current examples resemble the ones discussed in Section 5 in that they do not imply actual motion by the experiencer away or into its location after the cognitive change of state has taken place. They also obey the same metaphor, in which fictive motion with regard to the state of consciousness of a sentient being is represented as a directionally opposite fictive motion with regard to a spatial location. An extreme instance of this usage are examples like (60) and (61), where an animate entity dies and thus ceases to exist. Such expressions seem to combine a cognitive change of state and an existential change. (60)

Mummo kuol-i sairaala-an. grandma die-PST+3SG hospital-ILL “Grandma died in [lit. “into“] the hospital.”

(61)

Kettu ammu-tt-i-in pesä-än-sä. fox shoot-PASS-PST-PERS den-ILL-3SGPX “The fox was shot in [lit. “into”] its den.”

It is interesting that in such sentences, indicating “matters of life and death”, the opposite directionality does not work in the same way it worked in expressions that merely involved a cognitive change of state. For instance, since the verb kuolla ‘die’takes a ‘to’case-marked locative, its opposite, syntyä ‘be born’, might be expected to take a locative marked with a ‘from’case. However, this is not the case, and syntyä too accepts only a ‘to’case. This is shown in (62) and (63). (62)

Vauva synty-i taksi-in. baby be.born-PST+3SG taxi-ILL “The baby was born in [“into”] a taxi.”

(63)

On lottovoitto synty-ä Suome-en. be+PRS+3SG Lotto.win be.born-INF Finland-ILL “It is like winning the Lotto to be born in [lit. “into”] Finland.”[a saying]

Static case expressions are also possible with the verb syntyä; consider examples (64) and (65).

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(64)

Elmeri synty-i Elmer be.born-PST+3SG “Elmer was born in Finland.”

Suome-ssa. Finland-INE

(65)

Elmeri synty-i Suome-en. Elmer be.born-PST+3SG Finland-ILL “Elmer was born in [lit. “into”] Finland.”

These examples seem to involve an opposition between subjective and objective construal of the change of state similar to that observed above in example (56). Example (64) is a neutral, “objective”predication about Elmer’s place of birth, while (65) conveys a more intimate relationship between Elmer and Finland. To be born in Finland in (65) means becoming part of Finnish society, people and culture, and the directional case thus foregrounds Elmer’s own subjective experience or the speaker’s attitude regarding this. To consider the interplay between existentiality and change of state in these expressions, we now need to ask why a person may wake up from a taxi (as in example 56) but can only be born into a taxi (62). Recall from Section 3 (examples 9 and 10) that in Finnish the inception of existence is usually conceptualized as motion into a location. Thus if ‘being born’is conceptualized as the inception of existence, we can explain the use of the ‘to’case in (62). On the other hand, gaining consciousness is usually represented as fictive motion away from a location, and ‘being born’could as easily be conceptualized as an event involving such a change of state. In that case we would expect a ‘from’case to be used. We can now assume that an expression meaning ‘be born’involves features of both conceptualizations and that they are in competition with regard to the directionality of the case marking. The selection of the ‘to’case suggests that the existential interpretation “wins”this competition. When a person merely gains consciousness, there is no existential meaning involved and the change of state alone determines the directionality, following the general principle that a change into a higher state of consciousness involves fictive motion away from a spatial location. Examples (60) and (61), indicating the death of an animate entity by a ‘to’ case, can be argued to involve a similar conflict between the existential meaning (the cessation of existence) and the change-of-state meaning (losing consciousness). It is easy to see that in this case it is the latter conceptualization that “wins”the competition over case marking: a ‘to’case is used even though the cessation of existence normally motivates the ‘from’case marking. With the verb kuolla ‘die’, a ‘from’case seems to be possible only if a possessive relationship connects the location and the undergoer of the change of state (66):


(66)

Talo-sta kuol-i house-ELA die-PST+3SG “The dog of the house died.”

61

koira. dog

What the locative case marking of the above examples seems to suggest, then, is that in Finnish ‘dying’can be conceptualized as a change of state rather than as a total cessation of existence (possibly motivated by the fact that after death the corpse still remains), while ‘being born’ is conceptualized as the inception of existence, not as a change of state, even though such a conceptualization would certainly also be possible (i.e., ‘birth’being a change of state from whatever the state of the child may be during the pregnancy). We also need to consider the fact that directional cases are used the same way in expressions where the undergoer of the change is inanimate, as shown by (67–69): (67)

Auto ruostu-i pello-lle. car rust-PST+3SG field-ALL “The car rusted [and become useless] on [lit. “to”] the field.”

(68)

Leipä kuivu-i pöydä-lle. bread dry-PST+3SG table-ALL “The bread dried on [lit. “to”] the table.”

(69)

Vene palo-i luola-an. boat burn-PST+3SG cave-ILL “The boat burned in [lit. “into”] the cave.”

In these examples, the undergoer is inanimate and thus clearly unable to enter a “new state of consciousness” as a result of the change designated by the verb. Rather, a fundamental change of state takes place whereby the undergoer becomes useless or unavailable, or even ceases to exist. In fact, this change-ofstate reading can be a direct result of the directional case marking of the locative elements: if a static locative case were used, then examples (67) and (68) would merely designate an ongoing process (‘rusting’or ‘drying’), with no specific endpoint (we will return to such aspectual phenomena in Section 7). As was the case in our previous examples with animate undergoers, the ‘to’ cases of the current examples conflict with the general principles of existential locative case marking, which would suggest the opposite directionality (e.g. when a boat burns it ceases to exist, and thus a ‘from’case would be expected). What distinguishes the current examples from the corresponding canonical existentials is precisely that canonical existentials conceptualize the cessation of existence as the disappearance of the entity from its location. In the current examples, on the other hand, the undergoer is conceptualized as

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remaining in its location in some form after it has undergone the change of state: the remains of the rusting car, the drying bread and the burning boat remain at the location, which is thus not conceived of as becoming empty by the change. We can see this by comparing (69) to (70), which differs from (69) only in case marking (‘to’vs. ‘from’): (70)

Vene palo-i luola-sta. boat burn-PST+3SG cave-ELA “The boat burned [and vanished] from the cave.”

One way of characterizing (69) would be to say that the boat, by burning to ashes, is conceptualized as “disappearing into”the cave: its change of state takes place inside the cave, and when it is completed the boat cannot be removed from the cave in its original form. In a sense it remains in the cave but is inaccessible to the conceptualizer. Example (70) represents another possible conceptualization of the situation: when the boat burns to ashes, it ceases to exist and “disappears from” the cave, leaving the cave devoid of its former presence. This distinction may not be immediately obvious, but it is more transparent in expressions with verbs meaning ‘disappear’or ‘vanish’. Thus when we say that something disappears from a location we mean that it leaves the location, and as the result of this the location becomes empty (cf. The bear disappeared from the forest). But when we say that something disappears into a location we mean that it is still within that location but not within our reach, i.e. not within our cognitive dominion (cf. The bear disappeared into the forest). In (69) and (70), then, the same opposition motivates the case marking: the boat either “disappears from the cave”(70) or it “disappears into”the cave (69; cf. also example 51 above). In the example with the rusting car (67), on the other hand, only the ‘to’case feels natural, since the car does not disappear from the field by rusting: it merely enters a new condition. It is also possible to construct similar minimal pairs with animate experiencers: (71)

Koira kuol-i piha-lta. dog die-PST+3SG yard-ABL “The dog died in [lit. ”from“] the yard.”

(72)

Koira kuol-i piha-lle. dog die-PST+3SG yard-ALL “The dog died in [lit. ”onto”] the yard.”

In (71), the existential relationship is foregrounded; the example says that the dog died and disappeared from the yard, after which there was no dog. In (72), the focus is on the change of state of the dog: the dog dies, and in this conceptualiza-


63

tion disappears “into” the yard in the same way an animate entity losing consciousness may fictively move into its spatial location. 7.

Aspect and the selection of directional vs. static cases As Hakulinen (1979:526) has pointed out, there are also aspectual factors in the extensive use of directional cases in change-of-state expressions. This becomes clear if we compare our examples of directional cases with variants where a static (‘in’/’at’) case is used instead. As we have seen in the above discussion, static cases would also be possible in many of our examples; but a static case, compared with the directional ones, would be understood as indicating a loose and semantically independent setting of the event, with a much less intimate relationship with the event itself. In general, ‘to’cases have the function of establishing both a spatial and a secondary temporal boundary for the event, whereas static cases do not limit the situation temporally. Thus in (73) the static adessive form pihalla ‘in the yard’ does not set spatiotemporal boundaries for the event of ‘running’, which in itself is atelic, whereas the allative pihalle ‘into the yard’in (74) does precisely this: the event reaches its endpoint when the girl has entered the yard: (73)

Tyttö juoks-i piha-lla. girl run-PST+3SG yard-ADE “The girl ran ~ was running in the yard.”

(74)

Tyttö juoks-i piha-lle. girl run-PST+3SG yard-ALL “The girl ran to the yard.”

As noted above, many change-of-state expressions that take directional locatives also allow static locatives as an alternative. If the change-of-state verb is indisputably telic, such as ‘die’, then the nature of the locative element does not determine its aspectual interpretation even though there may be other differences between static and directional cases (cf. examples 64 vs. 65 in Section 6). However, if the change-of-state verb is not telic but indicates a gradual change with no specific endpoint, then the selection of the locative case (directional vs. static) determines the aspectual interpretation of the sentence. (75)

Maratoonari väsy-i tie-llä. Marathon.runner tire-PST+3SG road-ADE “The marathon-runner was tiring on the road.”

(76)

Maratoonari väsy-i tie-lle. Marathon.runner tire-PST+3SG road-ALL “The marathon-runner tired [and stopped] in the road.”

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The verb väsyä ’tire’can be interpreted as indicating either an abrupt change of state (‘get tired’) or a gradual process with no particular endpoint (‘get more and more tired’). With the static adessive case the latter interpretation is favored, but the directional allative ‘to’ case specifically means that the runner abruptly became tired and remained on the road. Similar interpretations arise in sentences that indicate a mere change of state where no motion is involved. Compare our earlier example (67) to (77), which has the static adessive case: (77)

Auto ruostu-i pello-lla. car rust-PST+3SG field-ADE “The car rusted ~ was rusting on the field.”

While (67) meant that the car rusted completely and became unavailable, (77) merely says that rusting occurred; there is no end result achieved and the event of rusting may be going on for an indefinitely long time. We can see that the directional (as opposed to static) case marking of locative expressions affects the aspectual interpretation of the sentence. A directional case results in an interpretation with an abrupt and fundamental change of state, after which the participants are no longer available in their earlier condition. This of course is a consequence of the meaning of the directional cases, which basically designate motion into a location; this time, however, the motion is merely fictive, consisting of a change whereby an entity leaves its earlier state of activity or availability but remains in the location. 8.

Conclusions In this paper we have discussed uses of the Finnish directional local cases in spatial expressions where no actual spatial change takes place; the situations referred to are static and thus one would expect the static locative cases to be used, but actually such expressions take locative elements in the directional cases. The uses of the local cases considered in this paper were divided into two main types. In the first type an entity changes its relationship with regard to the cognitive dominion of an external, sentient reference point, called the experiencer. The entity does this by either entering or exiting the cognitive dominion of the experiencer. This change is reflected in the case marking of the locative element that designates the spatial position of that entity, in such a way that when the entity enters the cognitive dominion it is conceived of as fictively leaving its spatial location, and when it exits the cognitive dominion, it is conceived of as fictively entering its spatial location. The second type of expression discussed in this paper consisted of sentences where it is the experiencer itself that undergoes a change of state with regard to an internal state. Again, this kind of a change involves fictive spatial motion where an entity that exits an internal state fictively enters its spatial location, and an entity that enters an internal state fictively exits its spatial location.


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These uses of the directional cases demonstrate how the Finnish system of conceptualizing such abstract relationships is based on a central and productive idea that abstract and concrete locations are in direct interaction with each other, i.e. that abstract domains resemble spatial locations. In this conceptualization, an entity that enters a new abstract location must (fictively) leave its spatial position in the same way that an entity that enters a new spatial location (factively) leaves its original location. Thus in Finnish it is not only the case that local cases are used to designate abstract, nonspatial relationships (which is a quite common linguistic phenomenon), but also that their use in expressions where the position of an entity is defined with regard to both space and a more abstract dominion reflects a conceptualization where these different dominions interact very straightforwardly with each other.

METONYMY IN LOCATIVES OF STATE

TIINA ONIKKI-RANTAJÄÄSKÖ University of Helsinki

1.

Introduction This article analyzes certain abstract uses of the locative case expressions in Finnish. I will focus on a specific construction type in Finnish which I will refer to as the locatives of state. When the locative element in this construction is in a stative case (‘in’case), it designates being in a state (as in 1a). When it is in a terminal case (‘to’case), it refers to going/coming into a state (1b), that is, the beginning of a state, and in the separative case (‘from’case), it denotes the ending of a state, as if coming out of a state (1c) (for a discussion of the Finnish case system, see Huumo and Ojutkangas, this volume). (1a)

Hän on une-ssa.1 3SG be+3SG dream/sleep-INE “She/he is asleep. S/he is sleeping.”

(1b)

Hän vaipu-i 3SG fall-PST+3SG “S/he fell asleep.”

(1c)

Hän heräs-i une-sta. 3SG wake-PST+3SG sleep-ELA “S/he woke up from her/his sleep.”

une-en. sleep-ILL

Locatives of state reflect the metaphors STATES ARE LOCATIONS and CHANGE IS MOTION which are often cited types of event structure metaphors in the theory of metaphor and metonymy proposed by cognitive linguists (e. g. Lakoff and Johnson 1980, 1999:180 184; Croft 2003; Barcelona 2003d). This article concentrates on one group of this expression type, namely expressions for postures and facial expressions. Special attention is given to the bridging role of meton1 The examples mentioned in this article that have no reference to the source are either fabricated or taken from a dictionary (see the Appendix).

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TIINA ONIKKI-RANTAJÄÄSKÖ

ymy between the concrete and abstract uses of locative case expressions. For example, the expression jaloillaan ‘on her/his feet’(2) denotes a standing posture and metaphorically, the mental and social ability to manage. (2)

Hän on jalo-i-lla-an. 3SG be+3SG foot-PL-ADE-3SGPX “S/he is on her/his feet.”

Tendencies of abstraction concern the grammaticalization of the whole construction type, which is largely intertwined with the lexicalization of frozen lexemes. Furthermore, the mechanisms which play a role in the contextual and polysemous tendencies of the expressions are the same as those in the subgroup of postures and facial expressions. I show that these metonymic-metaphorical tendencies are based on cultural models which form the basis for the polysemy of locative expressions. Postures and facial expressions have received some attention in the cognitive linguistic theory of metaphor and metonymy as representatives of experiential correlational conglomerates in which a certain posture or facial expression may stand for a certain kind of emotion via metonymy, because the posture or facial expression and the emotion in question are experienced as occurring together in the idealized cognitive models (for example: She walked with drooping shoulders/downcast eyes). Expressions of postures and facial expressions have also been treated as instances of metaphors such as SADNESS IS DOWN, especially when the expression may refer to an emotion or psychophysical state without describing an actual posture. (Barcelona 1986; 2003d:234 235; Lakoff & Johnson 1980.) This paper shows that the metonymic and metaphoric organization of locatives of postures and facial expressions is systematic in Finnish. The structure of this paper is as follows: Section 2 is a short survey of the notion of metonymy as it is used in cognitive linguistics and in this paper. In Section 3, the locatives of state are compared with a progressive infinitival form in order to pinpoint their special functions. Section 4 surveys the grammaticalization of this construction type. Here, metonymy, contextual implications, and metaphor play a crucial role in the tendencies toward abstraction which lead to a specialized construction type. Section 5 will turn to another level of these contextual mechanisms, to the polysemy and semantic tailoring or adjustment of locative case expressions for postures. This section provides examples of how tendencies of abstraction are based on cultural models in this expression type. Section 6 presents the basic geometric dimensions that serve as the background for the organization of the expressions of postures, both in their concrete and abstract uses, such as the verticality in the background of expressions like jaloillaan (‘on her/his feet’) in example (2). The relationship between the cultural models and geometric dimensions in the locatives of state


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will then be raised as an issue in Section 7. This study is based on a corpus, which is explained in the Appendix. 2 2.

Metonymy The interaction between metonymy and metaphor has been one of the main topics in the discussion about the cognitive linguistic theory of metaphor and metonymy (e.g. Barcelona 2003b:1). I will, however, not go into the details of the discussion. This paper offers one more case study in addition to the numerous others which give support to the argument that metaphor and metonymy are closely intertwined, where metonymy often forms the basis for the metaphor (e.g. Barcelona 2003b, c, d; Fauconnier & Turner 2003; Lakoff & Kövecses 1987; Niemeier 2003; Ruiz de Mendoza & Díez 2003; cf. Geeraerts 2003). In the locatives of state, metaphors are based on metonymies, as will be seen in the following sections. In this section, I clarify the sense in which I use the term metonymy. For the term metaphor, I rely on Lakoff and Johnson’s (1980) view: Metaphor partially maps, i.e. projects, one experiential domain (source domain) onto a different one (target domain), thus the target is partially understood in terms of the source domain. (Barcelona 2003b:3.) The result is actually a blend consisting of multiple domains, but I do not analyze multiple spaces in this paper. (See e.g. Turner and Fauconnier 2003, Nerlich & Clarke 2003 about relations of this view with the older tradition.) In comparison to metaphor, metonymy operates in one and the same experiential domain: it is based on one entity that activates another entity in that domain (cf. Barcelona 2003b:4; Langacker 1987:385 386). Examples (3) and (4) are from Barcelona (1986, 2003b:4 5). They are metonymies which represent the same kind of projections as found in my data below: posture (3) or facial expression (4) represent an emotional state of the bearer. (3)

He walked with drooping shoulders. He had lost his wife. (DROOPING BODY POSTURE FOR SADNESS) (EFFECT FOR CAUSE)

(4)

John has a long face. (DROOPING FACIAL MUSCLES FOR SADNESS) (EFFECT FOR CAUSE)

Barcelona explains that in these examples, the common domain is the emotion sadness, which includes the cause for emotion and its behavioural and psychological effects (Barcelona 2003b:5; as for the typology of metonymy, see Kövecses & Radden 1998). Maybe it is safer to talk about experiential correlations inside the domain in which metonymy is working; in this case, certain 2

I am grateful to Ronald Langacker and the editors and authors in this volume for their insightful comments on the earlier draft of this paper. I thank Tatiana Stepanova for her help with Figure 1.

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postures or facial expressions correlate with certain emotional or psychophysical states. The weakness of this definition is, of course, the difficult question of how to tell one domain from another (Barcelona 2003b:8; Feyaerts 2003:62 63). One could also maintain that postures or facial expressions and emotions and other kinds of psychophysical states are different experiential domains. In this vein, Sweetser (1990:28) refers to this type of metaphor as the MIND-AS-BODY: It is common that an observer reads a person’ s posture or other perceivable behaviour as an index or sign of that person’s inner state that is not perceivable to outsiders (Feyaerts 2003:70). Croft (2003:162) offers a solution based on the conceptual unity of domains: metonymy concerns domain highlighting. The highlighted target domain belongs to the same domain matrix as the source domain; they share a common functional denominator which makes them part of the same cognitive model. (See also Barcelona 2003d:246.) What is crucial to metonymy is that one term (or entity) represents (or stands for) and, in this way, substitutes for and provides a mental access — a reference point — to another entity (cf. Barcelona 2003c:33; Croft 2003:177; Feyaerts 2003:62 64; Lakoff & Johnson 1980:35 36; Langacker 1993:30; Ruiz de Mendoza 2003:113; Panther & Thornburg 2003:230; Ullmann 1957:232). In metaphor, the question is more about projecting the common structure from source to target and the metaphorical loading that this structure acquires in the blended space of the metaphor (Barcelona 2003b:17; Dirven 2003:4; Feyaerts 2003:63; Haser 2003:173; cf. Geeraerts 2003). Metaphor and metonymy are types of cognitive models (cf. Croft 2003:171, fn. 3). They are experientially motivated and used for various pragmatic purposes. (Barcelona 2003b:6; Lakoff 1987:68 90; Lakoff & Johnson 1980:61 68.) When listing different functions of cultural cognitive models, Bradd Shore (1996:63 64) designates a subgroup of orientational models that he calls diagnostic models, which are conventional indexical readings of signs as indices of underlying states, causes, or conditions. As a special subgroup, displays of intention are cultural models by which members of a community read each others’intentions. When the locatives of state of postures and facial expressions are used according to the metaphor of MIND-AS-BODY, it is possible to interpret them as instances of the diagnostic models. These locatives could also be counted as representatives of displays of intention, because, as explained further on, they are often used in contexts which describe the intentional behaviour of the bearer of the posture or facial expression. It has also been suggested that cultural cognitive models are often organized according to image schemata (Barcelona 2003b:6; Johnson 1987; B. Shore 1996:53 70). This likewise seems to occur with the locatives of state of postures and facial expressions. I will introduce the basic image schematic organization of the semantic field/cognitive domain of postures and facial expressions in Section 6. The image schematic organization also functions as the


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basis for the metonymic-metaphorical extensions of the expressions. The conventional metaphoric organization rests on the basic image schematic orientations, such as verticality, for example in the metaphor SADNESS IS DOWN, found in examples (3) and (4) above, and in many other examples that follow (cf. Barcelona 2003b:9, 2003c:43 44). Thus, we can explain how metonymy motivates metaphor (i.e. the domain must be put in metonymic perspective for the metaphor to be possible; Barcelona 2003c:31). Metonymy is based on experiential correlations. One can metonymically stand for another between entities that are stereotypically conceived as occurring together in an experiential domain. Together they are parts of the same cultural cognitive model. This model is organized according to image schematic structures. Based on metonymic correlations, these image schematic structures tend to acquire metaphorical loadings which are wider in their scope than the special experiential correlations in the models. In this way, since sadness is metonymically represented by a drooping posture on the basis of experiential correlation in the cultural cognitive model of sad emotion, it also is metaphorically projected by the downward end of the axis of verticality in the cultural-cognitive models of emotions. The distinction between metonymy and metaphor is thus graded rather than rigorous (Barcelona 2003b:10). In short, there is a chain or a cline that leads from metonymies to metaphors (Heine et al. 1991:71 72). Radden (2003) distinguishes four domain types in metonymy-based metaphors: those based on common experience, those related by implicature, those involving category structure, and those interrelated by a cultural model. Correlational metaphors such as HAPPY IS UP/SAD IS DOWN are examples of the common experience (Radden 2003:96). Radden (2003:97) explains the metaphor THE MIND IS THE BODY on the basis of another type of common experiential basis, that is, the complementarity of the experience of BODY PLUS MIND. In addition, implicature or context-induced reinterpretation plays a role in the locatives of state. Radden (2003:98, 101) mentions the place of activity among metonymic relationships which are prone to evoking conversational implicatures and which lead to emerging metaphors (see Section 4 below). Furthermore, category structure is involved, for example, in the general level of event structure in the use of the stative (STATES ARE LOCATIONS), terminative, and separative cases (CHANGE IS MOTION; Barcelona 2003d:264; Radden 2003:102). Finally, locatives of state rely on cultural models such as when the physical indices of a psychophysical state stand for the internal psychological state (cf. Radden 2003:104). In this way the locatives of state represent all of the four subtypes of the metonymy-based metaphors. 3.

Locatives of state in the system of stative predications There is a well-attested tendency in many languages for locative constructions to serve as expressions of the progressive aspect (e.g. Bybee et al.

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1994:129–133; Comrie 1976:129; Stassen 1997:242).3 Finnish has two different constructions with locative case endings which are periphrastic imperfective predicates. One consists of the verb ‘to be’olla and the infinitive with the inessive case ending (5a). (5a)

Hän on makaa-ma-ssa. 3SG be+3SG lie-INF-INE “He/She is lying down.”

(5b)

Hän on mak-uu-lla. 3SG be+3SG lie-NMLZ-ADE “S/he is lying down.”

These two expression types are interchangeable in some contexts. The infinitive construction, however, has developed so that one of its uses marks the progressive aspect in Finnish (Heinämäki 1981, 1994, 1995; Tommola 2000). The other construction reflected in (5b) is older and lacks the morpheme marking the infinitive, that is, the locative case ending is attached to the noun stem or nominalization. The latter construction does not function as a specialized progressive, but as a continuous stative predication in general. This study concentrates on the latter construction type, which I call the locatives of state. The younger infinitive marker of the progressive is productive and it has taken over some functions from the older, non-infinitival locative case construction. The older type, however, also remains productive to some extent. In addition, this expression type involves hundreds of frozen lexemes. The expressions of postures and facial expressions form one subgroup among several others, such as feelings (e.g. Hän on innoissaan, ‘S/he is excited/eager.’lit. 'S/he is in her/his eagernesses’, Hän on suutuksissaan ‘S/he is angry’lit. ‘S/he is in her/his angers’), psychophysical states (e.g. Hän on janoissaan ‘S/he is thirsty’lit. ‘S/he is in her/his thirsts’, Hän on tajuissaan ‘S/he is conscious’, lit. ‘S/he is in her/his consciousnesses’) and social status (e.g. Hän on naimisissa ‘S/he is married’, lit. ‘S/he is in marryings’, Hän on suosiossa ‘S/he is in favour’). This construction is not restricted to the states of animate themes (as for the semantic subgroups or cognitive domains, see Onikki-Rantajääskö 2001:70–119). The locative case construction is a common way of expressing stativity in Finnish. There are other means as well, the first and foremost being the stative verbs (compare 5a, b, and Hän makaa [s/he lie+3SG] ‘S/he is lying

3

Leon Stassen (pc 18.8.2000) has admitted that he stopped counting after he had found the locative construction type in 80 languages representing different language families and typological types.


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down’), but the number of these is not very large (Pajunen 2001:104 120).4 Croft (1991a:139) claims that verbhood abhors stativity. He noted the use of locative constructions as one option among stative constructions. According to Croft, it is more common that languages use possessive constructions and adjectival participles instead, or other forms derived from dynamic verbs.5 In addition to the specialized progressive function, another kind of division of labour occurs between the infinitive and the locatives of state. This indicates the difference between transitive/accusative and absolutive/absolute construal (Langacker 1991a:244 245, 1999a:35 38). The theme of the infinitive construction is always the same as the subject of the finite verb (cf. 6a and b), whereas the theme of the locatives of state (talo ‘house’in 6c) compares with the object of transitive verbs (talo-a [house-PTV] in 6a and 6b),6 although it functions as the subject of the intransitive finite verb (the diagrammatic descriptions of the examples 6a and 6c are in Figure 1 below). (T. Itkonen 1974, 1975, 1979.) (6a)

Hän on rakenta-ma-ssa 3SG be+3SG build-INF-INE “S/he is building a/the house.”

(6b)

Hän rakenta-a talo-a. 3SG build-3SG house-PTV “S/he builds/is building a/the house.”

4

talo-a. house-PTV

In principle there are no restrictions in Finnish on the use of the simple present tense instead of the progressive form. The so-called ‘nominal coding’(e. g. Hän on sairas [s/he be+3SG ill] ‘S/he is ill’) will not be analyzed here, because it is not usually used as a variant for expressing the same kind of state as this type of locative coding (see Pajunen 2001:104 112 also for the problems in Stassen’s (1997) terminology; Onikki-Rantajääskö 2001:241–248). 5 Some locative case expressions are formed from a participle or a nominalization derived from a dynamic or change-of-state verb. Finnish also has a participial construction which is identical with the periphrastic perfect and pluperfect when used in the nominative with the present and past tense of the verb ‘to be’olla: Hän on maan-nut jo pitkään [s/he be+3SG lie-PTCP already long] ‘S/he has lain for a long time already’. The essive case form is comparable to other locative expressions denoting state in some instances (see example 7a kual-lee-na [die-PTCPESS] ‘dead, as dead’). It is also possible to use possessive constructions to denote a psychophysical state (compare: Minu-n ~ Minu-lla on kylmä [I-GEN ~ I-ADE be+3SG cold] vs. Ole-n kylm-i-ssä-ni [be+1SG cold-PL-INE-1SGPX] ‘I am freezing’). Although this construction type is productive in principle, the actual use of it is more restricted than the use of the locatives of state. 6 There are exceptions to this tendency. These have been interpreted as a relict from an older stage before the rise in of the aforementioned difference in the construals (T. Itkonen 1974, 1975).


74 (6c)

Talo on house be+3SG “The house is being built.”

rakent-e-i-lla. build-NMLZ-PL-ADE

These examples show that the locative case construction has specialized so that it expresses a state or a statively construed phase of an activity of the core participant (theme) of the clause. According to Langacker (1999a:37), absolute construal represents conceptual autonomy, because it has the potential to be construed independently of the causation or the energy that drives it. In this function, the locatives of state have a place of their own in the present-day Finnish system of stative predications. In other words, they are not just a relict remaining after the later competitor, the third infinitive, grammaticalized in imperfective constructions. The schemata consisting of nominalized forms of transitive verbs (such as in 6c) are to a certain extent productive, although not fully so. There is also another difference in the agentivity between these two constructions: the locative case construction is more suitable for non-active readings, for example, for describing a posture of a dead or otherwise non-active theme. It is possible to find examples of the locative case construction such as (7a). Example (7b), which has the infinitive construction, sounds odd, mainly because the infinitive construction does not easily lend itself to nonagentive readings. I have not encountered examples like (7b) in my corpus. 7 (7a)

(MA Teisko)8 se ol-i it be-PST+3SG kual-lee-na die-PTCP-ESS se it

ol-i be-PST+3SG

siinä seiso-v-i-lla-an there stand-NMLZ-PL-ADE-3SGPX uuni-v viäre-ssä, stove-GEN beside-INE ilmampainee-sta airpressure-ELA

men-ny go-PST+PTCP

“S/he was standing there, dead beside the stove, s/he had gone with the air pressure”, i.e. the pressure [from the explosion] caused her/his death, leaving her/him in a standing posture. (7b)

7

?Kuollut ol-i seiso-ma-ssa. dead be-PST+3SG stand-INF-INE “The dead person was standing.”

For a more detailed discussion, see Onikki-Rantajääskö 2001:249–263. The initial letters refer to the dialectal archive, the name of the parish from which dialect the example is taken. 8


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Langacker describes the English progressive as taking a homogenous part of the process in the profile, leaving the beginning and the end of the process outside. In this construction, the verb be gives its temporal profile to the relation. (Langacker 1991a:92.) Compared to the progressive, the nominalization in the locative case form profiles the state as a reified entity, the locative case form turning it into a bounded region. The Finnish progressive with the locative case form of the infinitive lies somewhere in between these descriptions. The locative case form of the progressive and the suffix of the infinitive (ma) are comparable to the reified nature of the nominalization of the locative case construction (Langacker, pc). Nevertheless, in opposition to the locatives of state, the relational nature of the process of the verb stem in the infinitive construction is more prominent than in the locatives of state. As for the latter, the stem noun is not necessarily a nominalized process, but can be another kind of noun instead. Figure 1 (below) illustrates the difference between the Finnish progressive infinitive (on the left hand side) and the locatives of state (on the right hand side) as a difference in relational process. It can be seen that the relationship between the two constructions is analogous to that between the English progressive and the reified nominalization described by Langacker. Within these constructions, there are three layers of trajector and landmark, one in the processual relation, which is denoted by the stem verb (I), and the other in the profiled processual relation, which is construed by the verb ‘to be’(IIa–b). In addition, as a relational predicate, the locative case construes the relation between the trajector (hän/talo) and the landmark infinitive or nominalization (rakentama-/rakentei- (IIIa–b)). The atemporal relation designated by the locative case and the temporal one construed by the verb ‘be’conflate to form one and the same relation which gets its processual and temporal profile from the verb. The upper diagrams in Figure 1 depict the latter layer. (I)

hän rakentaa [3SG build+3SG [trajector] [relation]

talo-a house-PTV] [landmark]

(IIa)

hän on rakenta-ma-ssa [3SG be+3SG build-INF-INE] [trajector] [relation] [landmark]

(IIb)

talo [house [trajector]

on be+3SG [relation]

rakent-e-i-lla build-NMLZ-PL-ADE] [landmark]

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(IIIa) hän [3SG [trajector] [landmark]

rakenta-ma-ssa build-INF-INE] [relation]

(IIIb) talo [house [trajector] [landmark]

rakent-e-i-lla build-NMLZ-PL-ADE] [relation]

a. The progressive form, construed by the infinitive

b. The locative of state, construed by nominalization

Hän on rakenta-ma-ssa talo-a. s/he be+3SG build-INF-INE house-PTV “S/he is building a/the house.”

Talo on rakent-e-i-lla. house be+3SG build-NMLZ- PL-ADE “The house is being built.”

Figure 1: The progressive form (construed by the infinitive) vs. the locative of state (construed by nominalization) States are second-order entities which exist in time (Lyons 1977:443). Being in a state is thus a temporal relation. The division of locative cases into stative, terminal, and separative cases concern the temporal inclusion, beginning and separation/ending in respect to the state in question (Huumo & Ojutkangas, this


77

volume). In locatives of state, it is possible to interpret these relations as metaphors of the spatial relation expressed by the spatial uses of the locative cases (cf. STATES ARE LOCATIONS, Lakoff & Johnson 1980:15). Location also involves the temporal aspect in the spatial uses of locative cases (going to a place, being in a place, and leaving a place all happen in time as well as in space). The abstraction from spatial relations therefore concerns more of a fading away of the spatial relation. It is metaphorical in the sense that there is a mapping from one source domain (space) to the other (states). I will discuss these abstraction tendencies in the next section. The locatives of state are in many ways morphologically exceptional owing to their nature as frozen lexemes. These expressions are mostly inflected in the internal or external local cases, the use of the separative cases being the most restricted. The semantic difference between the internal and external cases has been neutralized, that is, the internal or external cases have been conventionalized in the expressions without a clear difference emerging in their meaning — the temporal relation in respect to the state is the same in both. In example (8), the separative case expression makuulta (‘from lying’) is in the ablative, which is an external case form, and the terminal case expression pystyyn (‘up’) in the illative, which is an internal case form. The forms are frozen lexemes and are used in parallel without any indication of the difference in meaning between the case series (see Huumo & Ojutkangas, this volume). 9 (8)

Hän nous-i 3SG stand-PST+3SG “S/he stood up from lying.”

mak-uu-lta lie-NMLZ-ABL

pysty-yn. up-ILL

In this section, it has been shown that the locatives of state have a function of their own in the system of Finnish stative predications. The locatives of state designate the autonomous state of the core participant (theme) in the clause, and are thus more prone to non-active readings than is the progressive construction with the infinitive. The most prominent difference between the two constructions is the highly lexicalized nature of the locatives of state. They consist mostly of frozen lexemes, although there is some productivity in this expression type, too. The next section will give a short review of the specialization of this construction type.

9 Other frozen morphemes also occur in some expressions: the marker of the plural and/or possessive suffix (2), the different kinds of rare derivational suffixes (6c) and even clitics (Hän ei ole mi-llä-nsä-kään [s/he NEG+3SG be what-ADE-PX-CLT] ‘S/he doesn’t mind, does not turn a hair’). I will not, however, go into detail here (for a more detailed discussion, see Onikki-Rantajääskö 2001:43–69).

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4.

The spiral of lexicalization and grammaticalization The locatives of state have extended out of spatial expressions through a lexicalization process in which some instantiations have acquired an abstract state-denoting sense by metonymic inference in suitable contexts. These have served as paradigm exemplars for the new paradigms having more abstract meanings and more abstract stems. The etymology of the state-denoting type among the locative case expressions has been explained as an abstraction process from more concrete expressions (G. Karlsson 1957; Onikki-Rantajääskö 2001). Even in modern Finnish, some expressions have both a spatial and a more abstract meaning. Examples (9–10) construe both a spatial relation and a sense of a state (or a phase of an activity): (9a)

[NOUN STEM + INE] - ‘in’: Hän on sauna-ssa. 3SG be+3SG sauna-INE “S/he is in a/the sauna.”or “S/he is taking a sauna-bath.”

(9b)

- ‘in the domain of, among’: Hän on marja-ssa. 3SG be+3SG berry-INE “S/he is in the/a berry; among berries.”or “S/he is picking berries.”

(9c)

- ‘contact with a sign/indication of a state’: Otsa rypy-ssä forehead wrinkle-INE “with a furrowed brow”(Lit. “forehead in wrinkle”)

(9d)

Hän on site-i-ssä. 3SG be+3SG bandage-PL-INE “S/he is bandaged.”(Lit. “S/he is in bandages.”)

(10)

[NOUN STEM + PL + ADE + PX] - ‘on’: Hän on jalo-i-lla-an. 3SG be+3SG foot-PL-ADE-3SGPX “S/he is on her/his feet.”

The earliest uses of this expression type seem to have described the places or actual signs of the psychophysical state or activity (G. Karlsson 1957:90). The more abstract senses have arisen as implications in those contexts suitable for metonymic interpretation, in which the place or the signs stand for the whole situation, usually a psychophysical state. The location in a place or the location


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of the actual sign and the state have been inseparable in some situations which are construed by expressions such as presented in examples (9) and (10). The conventionalization of the locatives of state could therefore be seen as a conventionalization of implications (cf. Radden 2003:98, 101). The schemata of this expression type have been specialized from such literal senses. They have served as paradigm examplars for the analogical extension of the construction type into more abstract stems and senses. Today most of these expressions are morphosemantically differentiated from the spatial uses of the locative cases. Examples (9) and (10) present some of the basic schemata of the locatives of state.10 Example (11) represents one way in which the abstraction of stems might have happened. This is an instance of the same schema as found in example (10), in which the stem is a concrete noun ‘foot, leg’. Such was also the case originally in (11), but the noun kontti ‘leg’is no longer used. Instead, the stem is associated with the verb kontata, ‘to creep on one’s hands and knees’. Thus, it is possible to discern degrees of analyzability among the stems. Today the schema allows unanalyzable stems and stems derived from verbs as its instantiations (11–12; compare 12a and siristää silmi-ä-än [descriptive stem+3SG eye-PL-PTV-3SGPX] ‘screw up one’s eyes, squint’; 12a and 12b are synonymous). (11)

Hän on kont-i-lla-an ~ konta-lla-an. 3SG be+3SG [stem-](PL-)ADE-3SGPX “S/he is on her/his hands and knees.”

(12a) silmä-t sirri-llä-än eye-PL [descriptive stem-]ADE-3SGPX “eyes half-closed” (12b) silmä-t tirri-llä-än eye-PL [descriptive stem-]ADE-3SGPX “eyes half-closed” This extension has features of grammaticalization, because as a result, new morpho-syntactico-semantic schemata have arisen:

10 I use the terms schema and construction in a synonymous way. Here schema is seen as a generalization of any level (Langacker 1987:74) and construction refers to linguistic units of any size with their morpho-syntactic description accompanied by semantic and pragmatic criteria in the same way as the term is used in a broad sense in Construction Grammar (e.g. Goldberg 1995).

80 (13)


[X (on) Y:llA-An]11 X be+3SG Y-ADE-3SGPX “X is in a/the state Y”

where X is the theme, the entity in a state, Y is a noun stem denoting the state in the adessive case with a possessive suffix. According to this schema, new instantiations have been added not only by virtue of semantic similarity of stems and derivational suffixes, but also by phonaesthemic associations (compare 12a to 12b). This construction is holistic, because the stem Y alone does not necessarily denote a state, but does so only as a part of the whole construction of the locative of state (as in examples 12). The lexicalization and grammaticalization have followed each other in a spiral manner, because it is possible to make generalizations, i.e. schemata, on different levels. The schema [X on Y:llAAn] also belongs to a more abstract schema [X (on) Y+local case]. The schemata are not fully productive, and thus it is always necessary to display the role of conventionalization, that is lexicalization and analogical models. It seems that certain frozen lexemes, lexicalizations, have served as models for analogical extension. Morphosemantic subgroups of locatives of state have evolved around some paradigm exemplars. In this way lexicalizations have also functioned as instantiations of new subschemas which may have been generated on the basis of the lexicalizations. Kuteva and Sinha (1994:224–231) draw attention to the extension of nominalizations into infinitives occurring in Dutch (compare 14 a and b) that is parallel with the extension of the Finnish locatives of state to the infinitival progressive. Kuteva and Sinha have pinpointed the expressions of the workplace as the loci for change: it is easy to reanalyze the locative expression of the workplace as an expression of working. (14a) Hij is aan het werk. “He is at work.” (14b) Hij is aan het werken. “He is (at) working.” Among the Finnish locatives of state, many conventional expressions have originally denoted a workplace as in example (15a) (originally construed as going around in an unbounded region in the forest to hunt; cf. the sense of 11

The prototype verb is on ‘is’. ‘Become’and other change-of-state verbs require ‘to’(or ‘from’) case. Other verbs are also possible, but then there is a glide to another related construction type, in which the locative case expression is no longer part of the predicate but is an adverbial adjunct instead. Another subconstruction type is the so-called nominativus absolutus construction, which lacks the verb, as in (12a–b). As for the use of this construction type, see examples (23) and (25).


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vicinity of the external adessive case, Huumo & Ojutkangas, this volume). The verb metsästää ‘to hunt’, as in (15b), originates from the same stem. (15a) Hän on 3SG be+3SG “S/he is hunting.”

metsä-llä. forest-ADE

(15b) Hän on 3SG be+3SG “S/he is hunting.”

metsästä-mä-ssä. hunt-INF-INE

The stems of the work expressions offer a continuum from nouns denoting a place (as metsä ’forest’in 15a) to an instrument (16a), then to a patient of the activity (16b), and finally to nominalizations of verbs or abstract nouns denoting working (16c). (16a) Hän on rati-ssa. 3SG be+3SG wheel-INE “S/he is at the wheel”(i.e. driving) (16b) Hän on 3SG be+3SG “S/he is fishing.”

kala-ssa ~ kala-lla. fish-INE ~ ADE

(16c) Hän on työ-ssä. 3SG be+3SG work-INE “S/he is at work, working.” The expressions of working are also those in which the infinitival progressive has partly overtaken the function of the older locative case construction (compare 15a and b; Nuutinen 1976:56–57). The expressions of working, however, are not the only locus of abstraction in the Finnish locative case construction, as seen above. The role of lexicalization and grammaticalization in the locatives of state can thus be summarized in the following way: 1.

Lexicalization: These expressions are lexicalized in the locative case form. The result, however, is not full-fledged lexicalization, because these lexemes are frozen adverbs which are inflected in some locative cases only.

2.

Grammaticalization: Morpho-syntactico-semantic schemata or constructions arise as generalizations from lexicalized expressions. The

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schemas and exemplars form a basis for the analogical spreading in new stems and expressions. Lexicalization and grammaticalization follow each other in a spiral: lexicalization grammaticalization lexicalization grammaticalization, and so on. Synchronically, this means different levels of generalizations in the schemas. A growing view among grammaticalization theorists is that lexicalization and grammaticalization overlap rather than contrast (cf. Ramat 1998). Especially for minor categories, it is disputable whether the issue is about grammaticalization or lexicalization. (Campbell 2003.) Instead, it is more fruitful to analyze the locatives of state as representing both lexicalization and grammaticalization than to dwell on arguing about the demarcation line between the two (for a discussion on the continuum between lexical semantics and the semantics of grammar, see Langacker 1987:30). Metaphors seem to be created from literal uses via metonymies. These arise as paradigm exemplars which may offer a basis for analogical extension. 1.

In grammaticalization, when morpho-syntactico-semantic schemas are created, locative case constructions designate the whole psychophysical or other kind of state, not merely the place or the signs of the state/activity. This is a case of metonymic conventionalization of implications.

2.

In lexical polysemy: locative case expressions have more abstract senses, e.g. posture psychophysical state.

The principle of abstraction, established on the basis of contextual implications, is the same in both cases. The latter type of contextual polysemy will be handled in the next section. The rise in metaphors through metonymies and the generalizations of new (sub)constructions on the basis of lexicalization and analogical extension may also be seen as following each other in a spiral manner. 5.

Contextual implications and cultural embodiment This section will examine the contextual tendencies of the locatives of state, using the expressions of postures and facial expressions as an example of the whole construction type. Section 5.1 will show how the imagery of the expressions explains the varying tendencies of near-synonymies. Section 5.2 provides examples of the way in which meaning extensions and abstraction tendencies are based on the organization of conceptual metaphor systems. Metaphors rely on metonymies, which index culturally embodied cognitive models. The models connect postures as parts of the wider state-of-affairs and use knowledge of the canonical postures and states as relevant background needed


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for interpreting the expressions. Section 5.3 further analyzes the different ways of linking the collocations, or the polysemic use of the expressions, as well as the cultural models of non-verbal communication. Embodiment emphasizes the fact that conceptualization is mediated by our embodied experience of the world and ourselves, via our perception and body (Freeman 2003:266; Johnson 1987). This grounding concerns the human body in its environment, that is, interacting with gravity and other circumstances, but also mediated by culture. Concepts are embodied in various ways. For example, bodily projections are based on the human body. Image schemas, for instance the container or location schema as the metaphoric source of the locatives of state, are comprehended through the body. Lakoff and Johnson (1999:36) refer to these forms of embodiment as phenomenological embodiment. These are the forms that arise from the way we, as people, schematize our own bodies and things we interact with. Lakoff and Johnson (1999:38) emphasize that the same mechanisms which are responsible for perception, movement, and object manipulation could be responsible for conceptualization and reasoning. The ubiquity of metaphor reflects embodiment in the conceptualization and in language. 5.1.

Contextual tendencies of near-synonymies As was mentioned above, metonymy already plays a role when a locative case construction is interpreted as denoting a state, although the stem alone does not construe a state. Thus the locative case expressions pysty-ssä [up-INE] and jalo-i-lla-an [foot-PL-ADE-3SGPX] denote a vertical posture, even though the adjectival stem pysty ‘up’or the stem denoting a body part jalka ‘leg, foot’ alone does not designate a state. Instead, the stem names a prominent part or aspect of the state of affairs. The stem can therefore be interpreted as the naming of a salient part of the active zone of the state, although it is possible to interpret the term in different ways and on various levels (cf. Barcelona 2003b:12 13). The active zone is by definition the portions of trajector and landmark, which form the part which is most immediately involved or participating directly in the relation (Langacker 1991a:189–202). Verticality, as named by pysty, is the most prominent dimension in the vertical posture. Moreover, feet (jaloi- in jaloillaan ‘on his/her feet’) serve as the active zone against the ground and bear the weight of an animate theme which has legs. The energy and the control needed in maintaining a vertical posture can thus metonymically be condensed in the expression by naming the active zone ‘feet’ by its stem. The interpretation depends on context, above all on the theme of the construction. The contextual interpretation in turn relies on the knowledge of different states, in this case the different postures of different kinds of themes. When the context does not specify the interpretation any further, the interpretation is based on knowledge about the canonical and functional postures of

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different objects. For example, a clause Hevonen nous-i pysty-yn ([horse risePST+3SG up-ILL] ‘A/The horse rose up’) has two interpretations, either about its canonical vertical posture or about its hindlegs. When the theme is a human being, the expressions pystyssä and jaloillaan take on the meaning of a standing posture. That is, the canonical posture of a human being underlies their meaning structure. The expressions can thus be used to express a similar state-of-affairs as the expression seis-aa-lla-an [stand-NMLZ-ADE-3SGPX], which construes the standing posture through its stem. In contrast, pystyssä ‘up’and jaloillaan ‘on one’s feet’do not specify the standing posture in the same way as seisaallaan ‘standing’. Thus, depending on their stem, different expressions construe different kinds of imagery (Langacker 1991a:10–11). This imagery motivates semantic extensions. The differences in the imagery of expressions explain why the contextual and polysemic tendencies of the expressions differ from each other. The following discussion will clarify this point. The stem which explicitly construes the standing posture, seisaallaan, is only used in literary Finnish when the theme is a human being or an animal. The expression does not have conventional metonymic-metaphorical extensions.12 Note also that when the theme of this expression is a horse (Hevonen nous-i seis-aa-lle-en [horse rise-PST+3SG stand-NMLZ-ADE-3SGPX] ‘A/The horse rose up standing’), the expression refers to a canonical standing posture on four legs. The expression in which the stem refers to a body part, jaloillaan, emphasizes the ability to stand on one’s feet. However, this expression does not necessarily construe a full vertical posture. The minimum condition is a posture with the body-weight on the feet, the feet being the active zone against the ground. This construal is highly correlated with the image of the control of an at least partly vertical posture. This perspective offers two extension types: physical ability, that is, the minimal condition of health and state of being alive (17a), and the mental ability to manage by oneself (17b). The metaphoric variant of this type tolpillaan (tolppa ‘pole’) is used in both kinds of contexts: (17a) (MA Askola) Ens kesä-m next summer-ESS

men-nää go-PASS

katto-o, look-ILL

12 There are two idiomatic exceptions to this: Hän ol-i nukku-a seis-aa-lta-an [s/he bePST+3SG sleep-INF stand-NMLZ-ABL-3SGPX] ‘S/he was to sleep standing’, ‘S/he was about to sleep standing’, i.e. ‘s/he was so tired that s/he could sleep standing’and kuolla seis-aa-ltaan [die stand-NMLZ-ABL-3SGPX] ‘to die standing’, ‘to die with one’s boots on’, i.e. ‘to die suddenly’or ’to die without a preceding illness that would have required one to lay down’, ‘to die without being confined to one’s bed’. At least the latter one is also possible with the other two expressions of vertical posture. As for the construction of change-of-state verb and separative case, see Huumo’s article in this volume.


jos ol-laa if be-PASS

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tolp-i-lla-mme. pole-PL-ADE-1PLPX

“Next summer we will go and see [him/her], if we are alive.” (17b) (HS) Tämä on paikka this be+3SG place kunnollis-ta decent-PTV

missä where

mä I

voi-n can-1SG

elää live

elämä-ä. life-PTV

E-n mä koto-na pysy-isi kauaa NEG-1SG 1SG home-ESS stay-COND long tolp-i-lla-ni. pole-PL-ADE-1SGPX Kaatu-isi-n heti, fall.down-COND-1SG at.once ketään nobody+PTV

kun ei ol-isi when NEG+3SG be-COND

pitä-mä-ssä keep-INF-INE

pysty-ssä. up-INE

“This is the place where I can live a decent life. At home I wouldn’t stay standing for long. I would fall down at once, when nobody was there to keep me up.” The most schematic expression, pystyssä, has an adjectival stem. This expression only construes the vertical orientation of the functionally prominent dimension of the theme; this is also the only condition for suitable themes. Schematic expressions are usually the most polysemic ones, as is the expression pystyssä. This has many conventional metonymic-metaphorical readings which are based on different cultural models intertwined with vertical postures (Onikki 1992, 1994:49–77). 5.2.

Metaphor systems of verticality and canonical vs. noncanonical posture Example (17b) above explicitly codes the opposition between falling down and staying up. The latter represents the mental and social ability to manage. This representation is based on the metonymic-metaphorical link in which the vertical posture stands for the canonical posture and the canonical posture further represents the canonical mental and social state of existence. In the background of this metaphor is the above-mentioned special link: the verti-


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cal posture represents the control and activity of remaining standing as compared to assuming a horizontal posture, which does not necessarily require activity or control. The control of one’s posture stands metaphorically for social and mental self-control. The expression with the body-part noun ’leg, foot’or its metaphoric variant by itself stands for the control aspect of the metaphorical correlation. The schematic expression pystyssä, on the other hand, in example (17b) is combined with a causative verb pitää ’keep, maintain’, which introduces the aspect of control to the metaphor: the control of the state is in the hands of another agent, not the theme her/himself. (Onikki-Rantajääskö 2001:227–235.) The metaphor CANONICAL VERTICAL POSTURE IS CANONICAL EXISTENCE is not restricted to concrete themes, but also applies to certain kinds of abstract themes. This metaphor is used to express the temporary existence of an institution (18a–b), or, using the terminal case (the illative), the bringing about of an event (18c). (18a) Hallitus government pari a.couple.of

pysy-i pysty-ssä stay-PST+3SG up-INE

vain only

kuukaut-ta. month-PTV

“The government lasted only a few months.” (18b) (HS) Viinanen lupa-a pitä-ä panki-t pysty-ssä. V. promise-3SG keep-INF bank-PL up-INE “Viinanen [Minister of Economics] promises to keep the banks going.” (18c) (HS) Siellä pan-tiin jatko-t pysty-yn. there put-PASS+PST continuation-PL up-ILL “There they threw a post party”. [An idiomatic expression for a party which is continued after leaving the main party.] Within these senses, it is also possible to find metonymic links that connect the abstract senses to the more literal ones. For example, institutions very often have the same name for both the institution and its building such as the word pankit ‘banks’found in example (18b). When the expression pystyssä is used to refer to a building, the literal meaning describes the physical position of its canonical existence. The expression of a canonical posture shifts via metonymy to express the abstract state of canonical existence. (Cf. Barcelona 2003b:51.)


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Conventional metaphors and cultural models rely on the opposition between vertical and horizontal postures. The metaphor system codes the noncanonical end of the opposition between the vertical and horizontal posture even more than the vertical end. Many expressions used to convey deviation from the canonical posture also construe a non-canonical state in the metaphorical sense. The loss of control of one’s posture stands for failure, such as social failure (17b) or bankruptcy (19). (19)

Firma men-i firm go-PST+3SG “The firm went bankrupt.”

kumo-on. down-ILL

The metaphor system of oppositions between the canonical and non-canonical postures and figures also applies to dimensions other than the vertical one. The deviation from canonical straightness represents a negatively valued non-canonical functional state with the most schematic themes (20). Moreover, the loss of a canonical figure stands for the vanishing from existence (21). (20)

Mikä on vino-ssa? what be+3SG skew-INE “What is wrong?”

(21)

Suunnitelma-t men-i-vät mytty-yn. plan-PL go-PST-3PL bundle-ILL “The plans came to nothing.”

Although the metaphoric organization is based on oppositions, the opposites are not always equally coded in language. Among locative case expressions, the non-canonical poles of oppositions have more expressions than the canonical poles. According to my data, non-canonical postures are described more often. This is to be expected, because canonical states have a default value, for it is not necessary to describe in detail a posture that is normal and expected. Yet even one and the same expression may have different metaphorical senses, even conveying meanings which may be opposite. Lindner (1983:227) has demonstrated that the verb particle up may be seen in relation to various kinds of functional assemblies, as she refers to the cognitive models. In the case of pystyssä, it seems that there are two divergent construal types among the metaphoric extensions. These construal types are both based on vertical posture, but one emphasizes the standstill state as opposed to movement. Examples (17b) and (18) above show that the expression may metaphorically denote the canonical existence and ability to act, but the expression may like-


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wise describe a non-canonical state of incapacity at least in some idioms, as in example (22): (22) (HS) Hän on haukku-nut pysty-yn [~ lytty-yn ~ maanrako-on] 3SG be+3SG bark-PTCP up-ILL flat-ILL ground.cleavage-ILL koko whole

amerikkalaise-n humanistise-n tutkimukse-n. American-ACC humanistic-ACC research-ACC

“S/he has doomed the whole of American humanistic research.” In the earlier examples, pystyssä refers to the canonical pole of verticality or dimension of canonical figure, when it, as usual, represents the standing posture. In example (22), however, the vertical posture compares to the noncanonical pole, if we compare the use of the expression pystyssä to those mentioned in brackets. The basic ground for the metaphors of the canonical state is not the vertical posture as a canonical posture as such, but the way it relates to the cognitive models of the canonical ability to act. In force dynamics, the vertical posture represents standing, which is usually connected to the canonical state and ability to act. As an opposite to movement, the vertical posture also may represent a state of standstill, as in example (22). Furthermore, in the idiom found in example (22), it is possible to construe the vertical orientation as a result of the dooming force of communication. Example (22) is not the only case where the locative case expression pystyssä is used as a rhetorical means to emphasize the intensity of the described state. The intensifying function may be seen as one abstraction tendency in the polysemy of the locative case expressions denoting postures and facial expressions (see also the examples in footnote 12). The effect of emphasizing the intensity of the state is attained through the hyperbolic use of the metonymic-metaphorical extensions. Since the nature of this intensifying function is rhetorical and textual, it applies at a different schematic level of constructions than other forms of their polysemy. 13 There seems to be something inherent in the expressions of postures and facial expressions that makes them suitable for abstraction into rhetorical functions. Maybe it is the vividness that is attained by the description of the concrete aspects of situations, such as postures and facial expressions, that pro-

13 It is unlikely, however, that such a polymorphemic lexeme as pystyssä would grammaticalize as an emphasizing particle, since Finnish does not have verb particle constructions such as English with up — the few exceptions that occur are mainly formed on the basis of translation models from other languages.


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vides the basis for the rhetorical effect.14 This effect relies on the power and significance of the non-verbal communication underlying these expressions. This will be discussed in more detail in the next section. 5.3.

Indexical relations between collocations and cultural models The polysemy of the locatives of state for postures and facial expressions is based on cognitive models embodied in culture (cf. Lakoff 1987; Lakoff and Johnson 1980). The metonymic and metaphoric uses of these expressions elaborate the metaphor ”Mind-as-Body” (Sweetser 1990:28), in which the body is interpreted as an index of the bearer’s mental or social state. The contextual uses of these expressions reveal similar cognitive models to those that have been attested in non-verbal communication (e.g. Eibl-Eibesfeldt 1989, Ekman 1973, Morris 1977, 1986, Onikki 1994). These kinds of indexical interpretations become conventionalized in the language. The metonymic and metaphorical sense is not coded in the locative case expression alone, but both the collocations of the theme and the locative case expression have acquired conventional senses. Thus the abstraction tendencies extend the senses of the constructions beyond the description of actual postures and facial expressions to the more abstract senses and schematic functions. Although there is a correlation in their interpretation, there is no perfect match between non-verbal communication by postures and facial expressions, and their linguistic expressions. This is, of course, to be expected. The actual postures and facial expressions are more variable and are extended to more than one part of the face or of the body. Yet the themes of the locative case expressions are more conventionalized. This discrepancy shows in at least three ways. First, the theme in conventional collocations names only one part of the body, the part which is conventionally interpreted as functionally salient in the posture or facial expression. However, a facial expression, for example, may extend over a wider area of the face. Thus, different themes may share a similar function in an expression. These themes may also denote parts of the same facial expression. As mentioned previously, among locative case expressions, groups of expressions share a similar schematic construal, for instance, a shrunken shape and at a more schematic level, the deviation from a canonical figure. This adds up to near-synonymic collocations having different themes that may be used to invoke the same kind of cultural model as the background of their contextual indexical interpretation. For example, the collocations otsa rypyssä ‘with a furrowed brow’ (earlier example 9c) and kulmat kurtussa ‘[eye]brows in wrinkle, knitted brows’may be used in a similar way to describe either a negative attitude, a thoughtful, pensive or meditative state of 14

Ponterotte (2003; cited by Barcelona 2003b:24) has emphasized the role of metaphor in conversation as a consequence of the brevity, conciseness and vividness of metaphor, and of the multiplicity, open-endedness and flexibility of metaphor networks.


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mind, or a kind of seriousness and a tense attitude toward life in general (23a and b). (23a) (HS) Kukaan nobody

ei NEG+3SG

kysy perään, ask after

on laadi-ttu be+3SG make-PASS+PST+PTCP ja and

kun kurssiohjelma when course.program

otsa forehead

rypy-ssä wrinkle-INE

ilman mielikuvitus-ta. without imagination-PTV

“Nobody asks questions although the course program has been made with a furrowed brow and without imagination.” [A furrowed brow represents a joyless and tense attitude.] (23b) (WS) Hän näk-i 3SG see-PST+3SG

elämä-n vakava-na life-ACC serious-ESS

jo-hon pit-i suhtautu-a which-ILL must-PST+3SG react-INF vakavasti seriously

asia-na, thing-ESS

kulma-t brow-PL

kurtu-ssa, knit-INE

pohdiskel-len ja järkeisopillis-ta ratkaisu-a ponder-INF and scholastic-PTV solution-PTV

etsiskel-len. search-INF “S/he saw life as a serious thing, on which one should react with knit brows, seriously pondering and looking for an intelligent solution.” One expression can often be correlated to more than one kind of attitude or psychophysical state. Moreover, descriptions of non-verbal communication are often used to carry nuances which may be clearer or vague depending on the interpreter’s communicative competence. Often there is no conventional verbalization of these interpretations. The extension to rhetorical functions glides from describing an actual posture and a specific state-of-affairs to generic situations where the connection to an actual posture or facial expression vanishes, as in examples (23a) and (23b). At any rate, specialization is also a common tendency among linguistic expressions. Between the two expressions, kulmat kurtussa is more prone to a


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negative attitude than otsa rypyssä, which is more commonly used to designate a pensive state of mind. It is possible that a negative attitude is more focused on eyebrows than on the forehead in the indexical correlations of cultural models (cf. Dirven 2003:33; Ruiz de Mendoza & Díez 2003:521). Second, even when the posture is very similar and is denoted by the same expression, collocations with different themes may have been conventionalized to different metonymic-metaphorical interpretations (cf. Croft 2003:181). The expression pystyssä ‘up, upright, erect’has different extensions with different themes denoting the posture of the head, as is indicated in (24a– d): (24a) pää pysty-ssä head up-INE “the head up” (24b) Pää pysty-yn! head up-ILL “Put your head up; Cheer up!” (24c) leuka pysty-ssä jaw up-INE “the jaw up” (24d) nenä pysty-ssä nose up-INE “the nose up” The expression ‘head up’(24a) is often used to suggest pride or courage. Here the illative case expression (24b) is an idiom which is used as an encouragement to mean ‘cheer up!’, the opposite of the typical downwards orientation of the head when one is depressed (cf. Barcelona 1986). The expression with the jaw as the theme (24c) is more inclined to describe defiance. The illative case idiom leuka pysty-yn [jaw up-ILL] ‘chin up’is a kind of blend between (24b) and (24c). The nose (24d) implies haughtiness (cf. also 25a below). The third is that various body parts have also acquired different cultural symbol-values. These values have been partly conventionalized in language, so that the themes denoting body parts serve as indices pointing to a repertoire of cognitive models which specify a certain range of cultural activity. The role of the theme may even be so prominent that certain kinds of themes tend to have similar kinds of metonymic-metaphorical senses with varying locative case


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expressions. For instance, many of the locative case collocations with the nose as their theme conventionally describe a negative attitude (25).15 (25a) (HS) Tytö-t girl-PL nenä nose

kävel-i-vät walk-PST-3PL pysty-ssä up-INE

kylmäkiskoisesti ja coldly and

poik-ien boy-PL+GEN

ohi. past

“The girls walked coldly past the boys with their noses in the air.” (25b) Hän katsel-i nuor-ten ilonpito-a 3SG look-PST+3SG young-PL+GEN joykeeping-PTV nenä nose

solmu-ssa ~ knot-INE

vino-ssa. skew-INE

“Her/His nose was out of joint at seeing the merriment of the young people”. (I.e., one could see from her/his face that s/he disapproved of the merriment of the young.) (25c) Hän sö-i keitto-a nenä nirpa-ssa. 3SG eat-PST+3SG soup-PTV nose wrinkle-INE “S/he ate the soup with her/his nose wrinkled up”. (I.e., one could see from her/his face that s/he was not satisfied.) The embodied basis for these metonymic-metaphorical shifts has something to do with smelling foul smells. The motivating metaphor behind these contextual uses is that a NEGATIVE ATTITUDE TOWARDS SOMETHING IS EXPERIENCING IT AS SMELLING BAD. The link of smelling metonymically explains the connection between the different postures and facial expressions and the attitudes described. These metonymic-metaphorical connections may not be analyzable, the collocations being conventional metaphors which no longer necessarily connect to the description of the posture of the head or facial expression when smelling. Thus, metonymies and metaphors can be analyzed to varying degrees. 5.4.

Interim summary This section has shown how embodiment works in the metonymic and metaphorical uses of the locatives of state denoting postures and facial expres15

This is by no means the only metaphorical task of ‘nose’in Finnish.


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sions. The stem of the expression plays a crucial role in the imagery, which explains why near-synonymies differ from each other in their metonymicmetaphorical tendencies. The collocations of the theme and the locative expression are central to the metonymic links of the constructions and cognitive models. As a result, the descriptions of postures or facial expressions are interpreted as indices of a wider psychophysical state. The connection is conventionalized in the language and shows as a conventionalized repertoire of interpretations, which vary according to the different themes. As we have seen above, the cultural indexical interpretation provides the motivating basis for metaphorical senses. The metaphor system is based on the schematic dimensions of oppositions. These dimensions are basically the same as in the organization of the expressions of actual postures. I will next turn to the basic schematic dimensions of the locative case expressions denoting postures. The issue of anthropocentricity will then be raised in relation to these dimensions. 6.

Schematic dimensions To illustrate the systematicity of metonymic-metaphorical organization in the locatives of postures, I will introduce the basic dimensions which organize these expressions. As a semantic field, the locatives of postures and facial expressions can be divided into six schematic dimensions (see the examples in Table 1): 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

vertical dimension canonical straightness vs. bowing contact vs. separation enlargement vs. shrinking openness vs. shutting down tension

The dimensions represent the oppositions of different postures of certain kinds of themes. In addition to that, they offer a basis for an orientational metaphoric organization as we have seen in the examples above. The UP-end of the vertical dimension represents a canonical state (17a, b) and existence (18a–c). In contrast, the horizontal end has acquired a negative metonymic-metaphorical loading (19). On a more schematic level, an opposition arises between canonical and non-canonical postures. This opposition has similar metaphoric functions in different dimensions: THE NON-CANONICAL POSTURE IS A NONCANONICAL STATE and LOSING THE CANONICAL POSTURE OR FIGURE IS LOSING THE CANONICAL STATE or even existence (19). In this way the opposite of straightness represents a negative non-canonical state (20) and shrunkenness represents the failure of plans, etc. (21). The metaphoric loading is not always the same. Sometimes the middle point stands for the optimal canonical state.

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For example, when ‘nerves are (too) tight’hermo-t ovat (liian) kireällä [nervePL be+3PL (too) tight-ADE], the optimal state is not the other end of the dimension of tension but the middle point, which does not have an expression of its own among locatives of state. Furthermore, the metaphorical loadings are motivated on the basis of metonymies in which a certain part of the dimension in question correlates with a certain kind of emotion, psychophysical or other kind of an abstract state in cultural cognitive models in the way discussed in the last section above. 1. Vertical dimension Up seisaallaan ‘standing’ 2. Straightness suorassa ‘straight’ 3. Contact yhdessä ‘together’ 4. Enlargement pullollaan ‘bulging out’ 5. Open ammollaan ‘wide open’ 6. Tension tiukalla ‘tight’

Middle istuallaan ‘sitting’

Down makuullaan ‘lying’

vinossa ‘askew’ ristissä ‘crossed’ Canonical figure koossa ‘coherent’ Half-open raollaan ‘ajar’

Separation erillään ‘apart’ Shrunkenness mytyssä ‘in a bundle’ Shut ummessa ‘shut’ löysällä ‘loose’

Table 1: The dimensions of the locatives of state denoting postures and facial expressions I have delineated the dimensions on the basis of a corpus study (as for the corpus, see the Appendix; Onikki 1994). However, on a more schematic level, at least openness versus shutting down may be seen as a special case of contact versus separation. The other dimensions may combine in different ways with the dimension of enlargement versus shrinking, which is also connected to the other dimensions through the polysemy of various expressions. 16 On a schematic level, these dimensions represent geometric construals which are common to different kinds of themes: human beings, animals, body parts, objects and their parts. However, the meaning structures, the predications of different expressions, are holistic gestalts based on the knowledge about postures of different kinds of themes. These expressions differ from each other in terms of how compatible they are with a wide range of different themes:

16

For example, vatsa pysty-ssä [belly up-INE] ‘pregnant’includes the vertical stem to describe the outwards expanded figure of the belly in pregnancy. This might be interpreted as a rotation of the image-schematic orientation (cf. Lakoff 1988:144–147).


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1.

Some schematic expressions are compatible with a wide range of themes. The stems of the locatives of state are adjectives or derived from verbs denoting a change in posture/figure (pysty-ssä ‘uprightINE’, suora-ssa ‘straight-INE’, vino-ssa ‘oblique-INE, askew’, taipua ‘to bow’ – taivuksi-ssa ‘bowed’, vääntyä ‘turn’ – väännyksi-ssä ‘twisted’). Some stems also name figures (risti-ssä [cross-INE] ‘crossed’, rao-lla-an [cleft-ADE-3SGPX] ‘ajar’).

2.

Some expressions, in addition to requiring a certain kind of functional dimension and a certain kind of geometric figure, as in group one, also have an additional restriction on their themes. In other words, they require compatibility with some property of the theme. Usually this encoding concerns the material of the theme. For example, myty-ssä ‘bundle-INE’prototypically requires a textile as a theme, but a body part, or the whole human being, is also possible.

3.

Some expressions prefer either an animate theme, a body part, or an inanimate object as their theme. Such expressions as jaloillaan ‘on one’s feet’, seisaallaan ‘standing’, makuulla ‘lying’, istuallaan ‘sitting’ and kontallaan ‘on one’s four legs’are only used for animate themes. The imagery of their stems specifies the posture in a way that is typical only for certain kinds of animate themes. Nevertheless, few expressions are used solely for inanimate themes (e.g. tiukalla ‘tight’on the dimension of tension). Usually it is also possible to use an expression with a body part theme even when it is not used with a whole human being or an animal as its theme (metaphorically also hermot tiukalla ‘nerves tight, tensed’).

7.

Geometric dimensions and embodiment This section summarizes the way in which the geometric dimensions discussed in Section 6 relate to metonymic motivation in the locatives of state. I will show that the dimensions combine to offer the embodied basis for the abstract senses in metaphoric usages. I will also discuss whether the grammar of the locatives of state reflects the human language users’or conceptualizers’ perspectives. I approach this question from two levels of organization: from the paradigmatic or schematic perspective on the one hand and from the perspective of syntagmatic or contextual usages of the expressions on the other. I will close the section by comparing the locatives of postures to the analyses of the Tzeltal body-part terminology by Levinson (1994). I used the term “embodiment”above when I discussed the motivating links between the concrete and abstract uses of the expressions of postures. The metaphoric usages based on metonymy are motivated by cultural cognitive models which treat the posture as an index of a wider psychophysical state or

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an attitude in a social situation. The abstract metaphoric senses are based on metaphor systems which ultimately rely on the same dimensions as the concrete senses of the expressions. The expressions of postures are embodied because they denote postures which are concrete spatio-temporal locations of the body parts in relation to each other, to the whole body or of the body to outside correlates, such as to the axis of verticality. When we talk about postures of inanimate objects, these are also concrete, and embodiment is evoked through the senses and functional needs of the conceptualizer. The conceptualizer’s perception and vantage point implicitly create the conceptualization and construal in the meaning structure. The geometric dimensions are thus embodied in this way. On the schematic level, the geometric construal of figures offers a basis for the expression of postures. Most expressions occur both with animate and inanimate themes. Yet one should also pose the question as to when we actually do speak about postures. All concrete things are in one posture or another all the time, but we do not spend our time communicating about this. Animates can change their postures, however, and this deserves attention more than the usually quite predictable postures of inanimate objects. Postures are the focus of attention in relation to the functional needs of the conceptualizer. For example, a natural context for speaking about the postures of inanimate objects is the different ways of handling them in various tasks. Nevertheless, we talk predominantly about human postures. At the level of schematic dimensions, this is reflected in the fact that each dimension is used to express the postures of a human being or her/his body parts. Among expressions of postures, most expressions are used to refer to human beings or their body parts. Some expressions also seem to be anthropocentric on the basis of their imagery. For these, the stem is a body part that is typical of a human being (seisoa käs-i-llä-än [stand hand-PL-ADE-3SGPX] ‘to stand on one’s hands’) or construes a posture typical of a human being (konta-lla-an [creepwith-hands-and-feet-ADE-3SGPX] ‘on hands and knees’, istu-a-lla-an [sitnominalizing suffix-ADE-3SGPX] ‘sitting’) although most expressions are suitable for referring to at least some animals as well. In addition to expressions of postures, the embodiment of other locatives of state is not entirely clear. When the starting point of the construction type is a concrete location of the signs of the (psychophysical) state, it also represents a case of embodiment (e.g. Selkä on ajoks-i-ssa [back be+3SG abscess-PL-INE] ‘The back is covered with boils’). Location as a metonymic starting point might also be seen as being embodied. If they offer, as it seems, the starting point for the whole construction type, it is possible to count the locatives of state as being embodied by their origins. Some central semantic subgroups such as psychophysical states are also embodied by their meanings. Hence embodiment plays a central role in the motivating links of the locatives of states. If, however, we consider the construction type as a whole, this em-


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bodiment is implicit in the background of the meaning structures. The metaphoric construal of the locatives of state as an instance of the LOCATION image schema, STATES ARE LOCATIONS, represents embodiment on yet another level of conceptualization. Thus, we can see that the locatives of state can indeed be said to reflect the human conceptualizer’s viewpoints — that is, anthropocentric conceptualization — in terms of their contextual usages, metonymic-metaphoric extensions and indexical interpretation. The description of human postures and facial expressions as indices of wider psychophysical and social states is very common and offers a basis for different kinds of extensions. The mechanisms of metonymy and metaphor are of course not restricted to the human being as the theme of the expressions, but the human being is the centre of attraction for their use. As I have shown above, however, the anthropocentric conceptualization is less clear if we consider the expression type at the schematic level of dimensions. In comparison to my data, I would like to draw attention to Levinson’s (1994) survey on body-part terminology in Tzeltal, a Mayan language. He argues that the wide use of body-part terminology in Tzeltal is not necessarily based on anthropocentric metaphors. Instead Levinson observes that the Tzeltal terminology is based on detailed visual analyses of the different geometrical figures of the different kinds of object parts. Body-part terms are thus applied to objects in terms of their internal geometry, the partitioning possibly correlating to the earlier stages of visual analyses. The partitioning of objects does not, however, rely on external coordinates such as the orientation of objects according to vertical dimension in space. As I have argued above, I have also come to the conclusion that geometrical figures play a central role in the schematic organization of the expressions of postures in Finnish. But there are important differences as well. First, in opposition to Tzeltal body-part terminology, the geometricality in Finnish posture expressions relies at least partly on outside correlates, most clearly on verticality. Verticality underlies some expressions in other dimensions as well, such as kallellaan ‘tilted’, in the dimension of straightness (2 in Table 1). At any rate, it is noteworthy that most dimensions are predominantly concerned with the internal relations of the theme (or with the whole object which the theme is a part of). Secondly, in contrast to Tzeltal, the Finnish expressions of postures rely on canonical figures in the background of their meaning structure. This is most obvious in the dimension of enlargement vs. shrunkenness (4 in Table 1), but it is implicitly in the background of some other expressions, too. The geometricality of the figures involves the shapes of the themes only partly (such as pullollaan ‘bulging out’). It is schematically more about the different distances and orientations of the parts which are internal to the themes as possible end points in the change-of-states, that is, changes in the postures and figures. And thirdly, the Finnish system of expressions of postures differs from

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the Tzeltal system described by Levinson in that it exhibits an overall tendency toward metonymic-metaphorical extensions. Cultural models then connect the signs as indices of psychophysical and other kinds of states. This is a metaphor system that is highly anthropocentric, although the main principle of indexical metonymic connections is not restricted to anthropocentricity. Of course, Finnish and Tzeltal represent typologically very different kinds of languages. Furthermore, it is important to note that body-part terminology and the expressions of postures are different semantic systems, because postures involve orientations — canonical as well as exceptional — of object parts in relation to each other, to the object as a whole and also to the external spatial coordinates such as verticality. Postures are typically temporary, which is reflected in the use of locatives of state in Finnish. Perhaps it is the changeable nature of postures that makes them prone to be interpreted as indices of a wider state-of-affairs, such as psychophysical states. Leaving these differences aside, Levinson’s findings are important, because they draw attention to the centrality of geometric figures in the meaning structure of certain linguistic expressions. As could be seen in this section, the notion of embodiment has different aspects of interpretation. One aspect is its concreteness: we experience postures and facial expressions through our senses. This concreteness is reflected in the geometric dimensions of the cognitive domain of postures. Another aspect is the functional needs of the conceptualizer as reflected in the expressions; it is much more controversial in what sense they can be considered as embodied. It is part of the general anthropocentricity of language that we speak about things (as well as postures and states of affairs) which are relevant for a human being. In addition to this general tendency, however, expressions of postures and facial expressions exhibit a special case of metonymic and metaphoric linking as they are treated as indices of the “inner states”of their bearer. First of all, this extends the geometric dimensions to metonymic-metaphoric values, thus retaining the link to concreteness. Secondly, it relies on an embodied linking of cognitive models that enables us to read perceivable postures and facial expressions as an external sign of an internal state. We have noted that the human being is the attraction centre of the metonymic and metaphoric extensions. This leads to a special kind of anthropocentricity which can most clearly be witnessed on the level of contextual usages, indexical cultural models and polysemic tendencies. This anthropocentricity, however, is less clear on the structural level of paradigmatic organization of these expressions. Finally, I have drawn attention to Levinson’s study on the Tzeltal body-part terminology which is used to emphasize the role of geometric figures or dimensions in some expressions. Finnish expressions of postures and facial expressions differ from the Tzeltal body-part terminology in their reliance on canonical figures, outside correlates and metonymically based metaphor systems. It is also possible to extend the question of embodiment to the whole system of locatives of state,


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but the answer is much more controversial. As discussed above, the container schema “States are locations”represents a kind of abstract embodiment on the one hand, as well as a metonymic extension on the other. 8.

Conclusion Human-centered conceptualization appears most clearly in the form of cultural embodiment in the Finnish locatives of state. In this paper, I have provided several examples and shown how, on different paradigmatic and contextual levels, the abstraction tendencies in the locatives of state are based on the indexical metonymic connections of the linguistic expressions to the cultural cognitive models which interpret the state described by the expression as a salient part or index of a wider state-of-affairs. Furthermore, this link has been conventionalized as part of the meaning structure of these expressions. One area that deserves further attention is the indexical mechanisms that connect the spatial and concrete aspects of the states-of-affairs with the wider and more abstract interpretation of the situation. These mechanisms offer a starting point for the extension of the locative case constructions to more abstract meanings in different subgroups. I have included all these extensions under the heading of “metonymy”as far as they represent the concrete correlations of focused parts to the wider interpretation of the state-of-affairs in a single domain, that being a cultural model connecting a place or a sign to the whole psychophysical state. This is the case for the locatives of state I have been discussing in this article. Metaphor, on the other hand, represents the mapping from one source domain to some other target domain (as defined by Lakoff and Johnson 1980), such as from location to states or from postures to psychophysical states, or from actual states to the rhetorical means in intensifying function. I have shown how metaphor is based on the metonymic indexical correlations in the locatives of state. On this basis, it is possible to explain simultaneously the scattered nature of the groups of frozen lexemes as well as the productive nature of grammatical constructions for denoting different kinds of states through the use of locative case expressions. Appendix: Data This study is based on a corpus which consists on the one hand of lists of lexemes that have locative case forms and on the other, of contextual examples (Onikki 1994; Onikki-Rantajääskö 2001). The basic sample consists of ca. 4,000 examples, which include ca. 250 different state-denoting locative case expressions. The corpus is based on the dictionaries of present-day Finnish (Nykysuomen sanakirja, Perussanakirja), the dictionary of Finnish dialects (Suomen murteiden sanakirja), etymological dictionaries (Etymologinen sanakirja, Suomen sanojen alkuperä), a reverse dictionary (Käänteissanakirja), a data-based corpus (UHLCS = University of Helsinki language corpus server, consisting, among others, 12 novels of the publisher WSOY (WS) and the

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magazine Suomen Kuvalehti 1987). Individual examples are from newspapers (HS = Helsingin Sanomat) and from the literature. I have also included examples from dialectal archives (The Morphology Archives (MA), Department of Finnish, University of Helsinki; The Lexical Archives of the Finnish Dialects, the Research Institute for the Languages of Finland).

BODY-PART NAMES AND GRAMMATICALIZATION

TONI SUUTARI Research Institute for the Languages of Finland / University of Helsinki

1.

Introduction The Finno-Ugrian languages contain a number of counterexamples to the unidirectional assumptions of the theory of grammaticalization. In this article, I claim that certain abstract relational expressions have been given a concrete meaning as names for parts of the body and some of them have later become abstract once again. In some instances the different stages of development are still apparent in the language. Certain changes can be explained as internal language development, but language contact and even planned language development have also had a significant effect on the use and development of grammaticalized forms. 1 While I concentrate especially on the development and grammaticalization of words that refer to body parts in Finnish and Estonian2 in this article, I also consider the names of body parts and grammaticalization in a wider context. Furthermore, I review the problems of the grammatical categorization of forms. In many languages the conceptualization of basic axes is strongly centred on animation (Levinson 1996a:180; Huumo & Ojutkangas, this volume), and body-part metonymy and metaphor are extensively used in describing objects and other entities. Typical examples from European languages include the English ear of a jug and the Swedish bergets fot ‘foot of a mountain’(lit. ‘the mountain’s foot’). Thus, it seems quite natural that metaphors involving bodypart names (1a, 1b) and the more grammatical units that evolve from these (2a, 2b) might come to be used to express many spatial relations. This does not

1 I would like to thank all of the contributors to this book for their comments on this article and, especially, the editors. 2 Finnish and Estonian are closely related languages and belong to the Finnic branch of the Finno-Ugrian languages, together with Karelian, Livonian, Vote, Veps and Lude. So-called Early Proto-Finnic, from which the Finnic and Samic languages have diverged, is believed to have been spoken in the Baltic area ca. 1000 BC.

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mean, however, that one should attempt to explain everything anthropocentrically, that is, taking the human language user as the starting point. (1a) Mixtec (Brugman & Macaulay 1986:319) ndukoo ha?a žúnu sit foot tree “He is sitting below the tree.” (1b) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 2943) Voi hyvänen, kun oh goodness when töräyttel-is toot-COND+3SG

neva-n marsh-GEN

ne tuohitorve-lla 3PL birch.bark.horn-ADE poske-ssa! cheek-INE

“Oh my goodness, if they would only toot on the birch-bark horn when they reach the side of the marsh!” (2a) Egyptian (Gardiner 1957:130) tp t3 head earth “upon earth”, i.e. ‘living’ (2b) Estonian (SCLOMB/Ilu 869) Mitte akna pea-l seis-ta! NEG window+GEN head-ADE stand-INF “Standing at the window is not allowed!” Although the grammaticalization of body-part names is well documented (cf. e.g. Svorou 1994; Ojutkangas 2001; Heine & Kuteva 2002), there are perceptible gaps in the research on body-part names and their grammaticalization. The most significant problem in the research has been a strong anthropocentric premise, which is clearly expressed in Heine’s (1997a:40) observation: Conceptualization is anthropocentric: Whenever possible, we use human categories to describe and understand nonhuman ones. Accordingly, the human body provides the most important model for expressing concepts of spatial orientation.

In the literature on grammaticalization constructions involving body-part names, the body part is often regarded as a secure starting point, even though etymological research has clearly shown that, for instance, current meanings for anatomical ‘head’are often secondary in origin (cf. e.g. Buck 1965:212–


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213; Heine 1997a:132; Campbell 1998:182–183). It could of course be that in many such cases grammaticalization has begun to occur solely from the meaning of the body part, and earlier meanings and semantic changes have had no effect whatsoever on the grammaticalization process. This should not, however, be assumed — whenever possible — ; rather, in every individual case the historical development of the expression in question ought to be examined separately. Narrowly interpreted grammaticalization theory can also have a restrictive influence on the choice of study material and on the interpretations made. Grammaticalization is very often regarded as a unidirectional process in which (a) advancement takes place from lexical forms to grammatical categories and in which (b) grammatical forms become even more grammatical than before (cf. e.g. Meillet 1912; Heine et al. 1991:4–5, 212; Heine & Kuteva 2002:2–4). The development is depicted as a graded continuum, and the sorts of examples that are often mentioned are adpositions and suffixes that have developed from noun and verb forms (cf. e.g. Lehmann 1985:304; Hopper & Traugott 1993:106–108; Heine & Kuteva 2002:317–336). Many arguments have been raised against the absolute unidirectionality of grammaticalization (see Campbell 2001:129–130), but have been repudiated (e.g. Heine et al. 1991:4–5, 52) or there has been a desire to relegate counterexamples to an area outside the realm of grammaticalization (Traugott & Heine 1991:7). It has not perhaps always been a question of linguistic phenomena and descriptions of their suitability, but of the nature of grammaticalization theory itself. This is apparent in Campbell’s (2001:124) reference to the prevailing attitude to unidirectionality: In brief, because grammaticalization is defined as changes of lexical > grammatical, or grammatical > more grammatical, any change not going in this direction can be considered as outside of grammaticalization, and therefore, unidirectionality becomes not an empirical hypothesis that can be tested, but an artefact of the definition itself.

An examination of Finno-Ugrian words denoting the body part ‘head’reveals counterexamples to both the anthropocentricity (or zoocentricity) of semantic developments and the unconditional unidirectionality of grammaticalization. I begin my discussion of the grammaticalization of body-part names with an examination of basic cases and grammatical categorization. After this I focus on the development of secondary body-part names and present counterexamples of the unidirectionality of grammatical developments. Later in the article I raise the question of internal language development, the effect of language contact and certain other matters pertaining to the use of and changes in grammaticalized forms. Finally, I consider the significance of the results reported in this article in relation to the prevailing theory of grammaticalization.

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2.

Nominals, locatives or adpositions? With the aid of four stages (see figure 3 below), Heine (1997a:44–45) describes the development of body-part names as a spatial concept wherein progress takes place through the name of a part of a metaphorical phenomenon to metonymical meanings of contact and separation. (3) (Heine 1997a:44) 1. Stage 1–a region of the human body 2. Stage 2–a region of an (inanimate) object 3. Stage 3–a region in contact with an object 4. Stage 4–a region detached from the object When the starting point is a term for an environmental landmark, such as ‘sky’, development progresses, according to Heine, through the same stages, but in reverse (1997a:44–45). In what follows I test Heine’s model in practice. Comparisons between typologically different languages reveal problems: The interpretation of the model is affected by the typological type of the language, and the stage of grammaticalization is open to various theoretical speculations. Natural, welldefined borders between the categories in question, i.e. nominals, locatives and adpositions, cannot be found, but certain divisions can be identified with the aid of the concepts of metaphor and metonymy, as we shall see in Section 2.4. 2.1.

An unambiguous system: Mixtec locatives The development described by Heine in the above figure (3) can be observed in Langacker’s (1999b) analysis of Mixtec locatives cited by Brugman and Macaulay (1986; also Brugman 1983). Mixtec expressions that include body-part names are clauses formed from two nominal words in their basic form, which are used nominatively (4) and locatively (5a, 5b). According to Brugman and Macaulay (1986:317; Brugman 1983), body-part name expressions used locatively are neither semantically nor syntactically prepositions. Langacker (1999b:219) refers to them as compound words. (4) Mixtec (Brugman & Macaulay 1986:316) nda?a žúnu tá?nu arm tree break “The branch of the tree is breaking.” (5a) Mixtec (Brugman & Macaulay 1986:316) hížaa-re šini žuku be located-3SG+M head mountain “He is on top of the mountain.”


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(5b) Mixtec (Brugman & Macaulay 1986:317) ni-nde é ii saà šini žúnu cp-fly one bird head tree “A bird flew over the tree.” If it is assumed that the body-part meaning of the word šini is original, then all four stages of Heine’s (1997a:44) model are represented in Mixtec. With the help of metaphor, the meaning of a part of the phenomenon (4) is conveyed by means of a body part. The first two — purely nominal — stages involve locative expressions based on metonymy: example (5a) represents stage 3 and example (5b) stage 4. Langacker has illustrated the clause ndukoo ha?a žúnu ‘He is sitting at the foot of the tree’(1a) with drawings, also (6a, 6b). The connection between the body part and the locative expression is clear. (6a) Langacker (1999b:241)

(6b) Langacker (1999b:242)

In the light of the observations presented here and the material in the articles referred to above (Brugman 1983; Brugman & Macaulay 1986; Langacker

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1999b), it can be stated that Mixtec locative expressions form an unambiguous system linked to the meaning of body-part names, and that they closely fit the model proposed by Heine (1997a:44). Nevertheless, this does not mean that body-part names used locatively form the same easily interpretable system in all languages. Comparison with the typologically different languages examined below will provide some evidence of this. Langacker’s (1999b) view that Mixtec locative expressions are compound nouns appears problematic because these expressions have separated themselves in meaning from purely nominal use (illustrated in 6a). On the other hand, a prepositional interpretation does not seem appropriate. This problem affects many different languages; for spatial expressions in Thai, for example, the terms region noun, locative noun, relator noun, relational noun and preposition (Zlatev 2003:305–306) are used.3 The problem is not simply a practical one, because different terms reflect differing interpretations of the degree of grammaticalization and of the whole nature of a category. To provide a sufficiently diverse comparison with Mixtec I will look at examples from Finnish and Estonian, as these are languages with a multiple case system and many types of locative expression (including terms based on body-part names and on other objects). As will be seen below, Finnish nominal locatives and grammaticalized adpositions have to be interpreted in a different way than Mixtec locatives. In Finnish the relation between the local cases and the stages of grammaticalization is complicated, which has strong implications for how models and categories can be constructed. 2.2.

Finnish nominal locatives The existence of a local case system affects the interpretation of Heine’s (1997a:44) model. For example, in Finnish and Estonian, as in many other Finno-Ugrian languages, contact and separation are indicated with the help of different local cases. The internal (inner, interior) local cases, i.e. the inessive, elative and illative, indicate being inside something or in close contact with it as in (7a), and the external (outer, exterior) local cases, i.e. the adessive, ablative and allative, indicate location in the vicinity (7b). The local cases frequently also have more abstract uses, too. For example, the adessive also expresses possession. (For a discussion of the Finnish local cases, see Huumo & Ojutkangas in this volume.)

3 Numerous other examples are easily found. In a collection of works on the Omotic languages (Hayward 1990a), Breeze (1990:38, 115) classifies Benchnon locative expressions as postpositions, as does Éva (1990:363) in his description of Gamon; for Zayse and Aari, however, Hayward (1990b:261; 1990c:489) concludes that they are nominal locatives, as does Fleming (1990:519) in his description of Dime, even though these expressions are of the same types in the languages considered.


(7a) Finnish internal local cases: talo-ssa house-INE talo-sta house-ELA talo-on house-ILL

‘in a/the house’ ‘from a/the house’ ‘into a/the house’

(7b) Finnish external local cases: talo-lla house-ADE talo-lta house-ABL talo-lle house-ALL

‘at/on a/the house’ ‘from (outside of) a/the house’ ‘to (the outside of) a/the house’

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A metonymic intermediate phase (as in 6a) is not absolutely necessary for a locative expression incorporating a term for part of an entity (see 8a) that is used in describing contact and separation (8b) consistent with stages 3 and 4 of Heine’s (1997a:44) model. As can be seen from examples (8c) and (8d), Finnish locative expressions describing separation with the aid of the internal and external local cases are also formed from nouns other than grammaticalized body-part names. This shows that the expression of locative separation is predominantly a property of the form of the local case and cannot be interpreted directly as a sign of grammaticalization. Only in those instances in which the local case form can be given two distinct locative interpretations is it possible to differentiate the effect of the local case from a grammaticalization process involving it, as in example (18) in Section 2.3. (8a) Finnish (PS, s.v. kuve) uuni-n kuve stove-GEN flank “side of a/the stove” (8b) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 1856) Hän askartel-i leivinuuni-n kupee-ssa 3SG work-PST+3SG baking.oven-GEN flank-INE höyläpenki-n planing.bench-GEN

ääre-llä … close-ADE

“(S)he was busy working at the planing bench next to the baking oven.”

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(8c) Finnish (CSC/Karjalainen 1993) …

kuningatar Silvia perheineen näyttäyty-i queen Silvia family.with appear-PST+3SG

linna-n palace-GEN

ikkuna-ssa. window-INE

“… Queen Silvia and her family made an appearance at the palace window” (8d) Finnish (CSC/Keskisuomalainen 1999) Ennen tarkastaja-a melkein odote-ttiin before inspector-PTV almost wait-PASS+PST rivi-ssä row-INE

ove-lla. door-ADE

“In those days one almost waited for the inspector in a queue at the door.” In locative phrases the internal local case forms often express contact (9a) and the external local case forms separation (9b), but are to some extent synonymous (10), with the context ultimately determining the exact interpretation. The meaning is also fundamentally affected by different conventionalizations, and also by the distribution of the functions of the case expressions and locative clauses. Notwithstanding the role of the local cases in Finnish, the basic relationship between body-part based locative phrases and spatial proximity is of course founded on body-part metaphor and metonymy (illustrated in 6a). (9a) Finnish (fabricated) Poika noja-a uuni-n kupee-seen. boy lean-3SG stove-GEN flank-ILL “The boy is leaning against the stove.”

(contact)

(9b) Finnish (fabricated) Poika kävele-e uuni-n kupee-lle. (separation) boy walk-3SG stove-GEN flank-ALL “The boy is walking to the side of the stove.”


(10) Finnish (PS, s.v. kuve) ankkuroi-da saare-n kupee-seen ~ anchor-INF island-GEN flank-ILL “To cast the anchor close to an island.”

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kupee-lle flank-ALL

The locatives examined above (in 1b, 8b, 9a–b and 10) are composed of two nouns, and the expressions they form do not differ grammatically or semantically from noun phrases to the extent that they could be clearly considered adpositional phrases, for instance. The most important of the grammatical criteria is inflection: in addition to the nominative and local cases the other cases are also possible (11). Furthermore, such phrases can also take modifiers (12a, 12b). The most important semantic criterion is a clear metaphorical connection with the meaning of the body part: expressions can be described in the same way as the Mixtec ha?a žúnu ‘at the foot of the tree’(6a, 6b). If a locative expression that has developed from a body-part name cannot be distinguished syntactically or semantically from other similar constructions composed of locative expressions that are formed from two nouns (13, 14), the most obvious solution is to interpret these body-part names as nouns in this type of construction. (11) Finnish (PS, s.v. kuve) nous-ta mäe-n kuvet-ta ascend-INF hill-GEN flank-PTV “to climb along the flank of the hill” (12a) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 852) … alko-i haka-ta reikä-ä kelo-n kupee-seen. start-PST+3SG cut-INF hole-PTV dead.tree-GEN flank-ILL “… ((s)he) started to cut a hole in the side of the dead tree.” (12b) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 852, modified) … alko-i haka-ta reikä-ä start-PST+3SG cut-INF hole-PTV kelo-n dead.tree-GEN

harmaa-seen grey-ILL

kupee-seen. flank-ILL

“… ((s)he) started to cut a hole in the grey side of the dead tree.”

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(13) Finnish (fabricated) Pello-n reuna-ssa = Pello-n poske-ssa on kiv-i-ä. field-GEN edge-INE field-GEN cheek-INE be+3SG stone-PL+PTV “There are stones at the edge of the field.” (14) Finnish (fabricated) Puu-n oksa-lla on lintu. tree-GEN branch-ADE be+3SG bird “There is a bird sitting on the branch of the tree.” (Cf.

Puu-n kylje-ssä on oksa.) tree-GEN flank-INE be+3SG branch “There is a branch at the side of the tree.”)

In the examples so far, I have considered the Finnish words poski ‘cheek’and kuve ‘flank’. Other Finnish body-part names serving a similar locative function are nenä ‘nose’(15a), suu ‘mouth’(15b), niska ‘back of the neck’(15c), kaula ‘neck’(15d) and selkä ‘back’(15e) and to some extent also kylki ‘flank, side’and korva ‘ear’(see 2.3). All these primary body-part names are used in locative expressions. Anthropocentric (or in some cases zoocentric) conceptualization behind these locatives is metaphorically based on the shape of the body part and on its spatial relation. (15a) Finnish (Bible 1992: Proverbs 23:34) Ole-t kuin aallo-i-lla keske-llä mer-ta, be-2SG like wave-PL-ADE middle-ADE sea-PTV kuin masto-n like mast-GEN

nenä-ssä nose-INE

maininge-i-lla. roller-PL-ADE

“You are as if on the waves in the middle of the sea, at the top of a mast in the swell.” (15b) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 748) … iso kivi vyöryte-tään luola-n suu-lle … big stone roll-PASS cave-GEN mouth-ALL “… a big stone will be rolled to the entrance of the cave … ” (15c) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 951) Kaksi nuor-ta herrasmies-tä hina-si siellä two young-PTV gentleman-PTV tow-PST+3SG there


venet-tä boat-PTV

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koske-n niska-an. torrent-GEN neck-ILL

“There two young gentleman towed a boat to the head of the rapids.” (15d) Finnish (fabricated) Pullo-n kaula-ssa on pieni etiketti. bottle-GEN neck-INE be+3SG small label “There is a small label on the neck of the bottle.” (15e) Finnish (MA/Uukuniemi) otet-tii àejja-n take-PASS+PST fence-GEN ja sitte and then

selä-ltä back-ABL

vanho-l'ta katto-lòe-lta old-PL+ABL roof-PL-ABL

karpè-i-ta lichen-PL-PTV

“Pieces of lichen were picked off the top of a fence and some old roofs.” As we have seen, many Finnish locative phrases that include body-part names are simple nominal phrases formed from two nouns, one a modifier and the other its head. There are, however, also certain types of locative expression in Finnish which must be analysed as grammaticalized adpositions. 2.3.

Finnish grammaticalized adpositions Ojutkangas (2001) has studied such Finnish body-part names as kuve ‘flank’, kylki ‘flank, side’and korva ‘ear’. She regards locative expressions that have developed from body-part names as grammaticalized adpositions, as has been the tradition up to now in research on Finnish (e.g. Ojutkangas 2001:233– 234). In fact, kylki and korva differ from the body-part names examined in 2.2 above in that, not only can concrete locative expressions (16a, 16b) be formed with them, but also more abstract ones (17a, 17b). Abstraction is a sign of grammaticalization, and so interpreting these expressions as adpositions appears justified. (16a) Finnish (CSC/Turun Sanomat 1999) Hiljainen käpytikka aherta-a quiet woodpecker toil-3SG

puu-n tree-GEN

kylke-en flank-ILL

vyöte-ty-n läski-n kimpu-ssa. gird-PST+PTCP-GEN fat-GEN with-INE “A quiet woodpecker is toiling away at some fat strapped to the tree.”

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(16b) Finnish (CSC/Karjalainen 1998) Nyt Tuulokse-n silla-n korva-ssa istu-vat maalarimiehe-t now Tuulos-GEN bridge-GEN ear-INE sit-3PL painter-PL rauhallisesti peacefully

tupaka-lla … tobacco-ADE

“The painters are now sitting peacefully smoking at the end of Tuulos bridge… ” (17a) Finnish (CSC/Turun Sanomat 1998) … Israeli-n kylke-en on synty-mä-ssä uusi arabivaltio. Israel-GEN flank-ILL be+3SG born-INF-INE new Arab.state “A new Arab state is being born alongside Israel.” (17b) Finnish (CSC/Karjalainen 1993) Mainos saa ensiilta-nsa syksy-n korva-lla, advertisement get+3SG premiere-3SGPX autumn-GEN ear-ADE elokuu-ssa. August-INE “The advertisement will get its premiere at the beginning of the autumn, in August.” In examples (17a) and (17b) the expressions incorporating a body-part name form a fixed entity which cannot be given a modifier and which can only appear in internal or external local cases, and therefore *Israeli-n kylki [IsraelGEN flank+NOM] and *syksy-n korva [autumn-GEN ear+NOM], for example, are impossible. Under these circumstances the body-part names occurring in these expressions have lost their connection with the noun and function as independent grammatical units. It is another question as to whether these forms should be interpreted in their contexts, in which case the body-part expression in examples (16a) and (16b) would be interpreted as noun phrases and the body-part examples (17a) and (17b) as adpositional phrases. According to Ojutkangas (2001:67, 201–202), the difference between nominal or lexical (16) and adpositional (17) use may be based on the metonymic change ‘part’> ‘space around a part’. Ojutkangas (2001:67) makes the following assertion:


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When there can be no question of contact between the aforementioned referents, the meaning of the word being grammaticalized as a spatial postposition or adverb has clearly shifted away from the area of concrete, lexical meaning. This is why metonymy is important. The loosening of contact is, nevertheless, only a tendency, a context-dependent condition for the grammatical status of some words. Contact is not in itself an obstacle to grammaticalization.

As is evident from the previous paragraphs, my own conception is slightly different. I consider the expression of contact and its absence as, above all, a property of the noun and the local cases. Furthermore, I believe that the context has a significant effect on this. Quite often it is not a metonymic change of meaning that is behind a lack of the expression of contact, but either a meaning created by the local case (9b) or an interpretation invited by the context (8b, 13). On the other hand, evaluating contact in abstract clauses seems awkward and too dependent on the descriptive model (17b). For this reason I have endeavoured to evaluate the grammaticalization of locative expressions in a slightly different way. Nevertheless, it is true that in some cases the pattern ‘part’> ‘space around a part’distinguishes nominal from adpositional use. A good example is the Finnish word rinta ‘chest, breast’, discussed by Ojutkangas (2001). The external case forms of the noun denote contact with or very close proximity to, i.e. they describe a ‘part’in a fixed sense. Adpositional forms of the external case, on the other hand, are used with the meaning of ‘beside’, i.e. to convey the meaning ‘space around a part’. Some expressions can be interpreted both nominally and adpositionally (18). (18) Finnish (fabricated) Lapsi nukku-u äidi-n rinna-lla. child sleep-3SG mother-GEN chest/breast-ADE “The child is sleeping in its mother’s breast ~ lap ~ arms.”(nominal) “The child is sleeping beside its mother.”(adpositional) The origin of the locative sense of the word rinta may be either zoomorphic or anthropomorphic. According to Ojutkangas, the setting may be the harnessing of animals side by side or people being abreast and moving. A child being in the lap of its mother could also have affected the inception of the meaning ‘side, border’. (Ojutkangas 2001:221–222.) The word rinta differs from the previously mentioned body-part names in that it has no metaphorical use attached to it at all. In Finnish only humans and animals have chests and breasts, with the exception of a very few lexical fossilizations (PS, s.v. rinta). It is possible to discern the meaning of the body part in those expressions in which the focus of the description of a location has been a living being. Against such a setting, these expressions often reflect a model in which there is existence or movement side by side (19a). The fact that

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the entities of such expressions in the study material are usually inanimate can be considered evidence of clear grammaticalization of the external local case forms of the word rinta (19b). (19a) Finnish (CSC/Keskisuomalainen 1999) Kaikki halu-si-vat kuvautta-a all want-PST-3PL photograph-INF joulupuki-n Santa.Claus-GEN

itse-nsä self-3PX

rinna-lla … chest/breast-ADE

“Everybody wanted to have their photograph taken beside Santa Claus… ” (19b) Finnish (CSC/Turun Sanomat 1998) Uude-n nime-n ja liikemerki-n rinna-lla new-GEN name-GEN and logo-GEN chest/breast-ADE säily-vät stay-3PL

silti still

vanha-t old-PL

nime-t. name-PL

“The old names will nevertheless be retained alongside the new name and logo.” Inanimate entities cannot be delineated with the help of a prototypical metaphor. For example, *nime-n rinta [name-GEN chest/breast+NOM] and *liikemerki-n rinta [logo-GEN chest/breast+NOM] (19b) are not possible. For this reason the metonymic change ‘part’> ‘space around a part’has been adapted to describe only expressions connected with animate beings (19a), and it is from these types of expression that the grammaticalization of the word rinta has occurred. Later development and use must be described differently. Forms of the word rinta used adpositionally are grammatical units which have lost their connection with the meaning of the body part. They function as completely grammaticalized adpositions with the meaning ‘beside’: rinnalla ‘beside’, rinnalta ‘from beside’and rinnalle ‘beside’(lit. to(wards) beside). 2.4.

Distribution into locatives and adpositions Following from 2.2. and 2.3. above, the Finnish locative expressions that include body-part names can be categorized as belonging to one of two types, locatives (nominal forms indicating place) and adpositions (postpositions). Locative phrases are formed from two nouns, one a modifier and the other its head, and the expressions are based on a “prototypical” metaphor, ‘body part’> ‘part of an inanimate phenomenon’. They are used in the same


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way as other similar types of noun phrase, e.g. leivinuunin kupeessa [baking.oven-GEN flank-INE] ‘next to the baking oven’~ linnan ikkunassa [palace-GEN window-INE] ‘at the palace window’ (8a–d). Locative meanings result from the influence of the local cases and the context. Temporal constructions, for example, can develop from locative expressions, e.g. syksyn korvalla [autumn-GEN ear-ADE] ‘at the beginning of the autumn’(17b), and abstract “manifold” metaphors emerge. At this point the connection with the meaning of a concrete body part disappears and the expression becomes more adpositional. Adpositions have become grammaticalized directly from the meaning of the body part with the aid of metonymy, but without being influenced by the “prototypical” metaphor ‘body part’> ‘part of an inanimate phenomenon’. Having been related to the body part, the meaning of place is extended metonymically from contact to separation, and the expression based on the bodypart name has expanded directly to become a grammatical unit in other contexts, too, e.g. uuden nimen ... rinnalla [new-GEN name-GEN chest/breastINE] ‘alongside the new name’(19b). Adpositions that can be traced to body-part names may emerge in two ways (directly from the meaning of the body part without the metaphorical development ‘body part’> ‘part of an inanimate phenomenon’(19b), or from locative expressions through the development of a “manifold”metaphor (17b)), but because adpositions are synchronically the same despite their origin, their division into different categories does not appear to be necessary. Even though the ways in which locatives and adpositions have emerged can be determined using the concept of the “prototypical”metaphor, the effect of the “abstract”metaphor (e.g. location > time) is common to all grammaticalized forms. 3.

Secondary body-part names Grammatical units with the meaning ‘above’are often mentioned as being based on nouns referring to the head, a peak, the back, the face or the sky (e.g. Svorou 1994:252–253; Heine 1997a:40–42). Among such body-part names, Svorou also mentions the Finnish word pää with the meaning ‘head, top’. The third widely used meaning of pää, ‘beginning/end’, was not mentioned, nor was further consideration given to the meanings of ‘head’or ‘top’. These meanings are examined more closely below. 3.1.

Finnish pää ‘head’ Besides the multiple meanings of the nominal pää, the great variety of uses of its grammaticalized forms deserve closer attention. The grammaticalized external local case forms päällä (lit. ‘on the head’; adessive, stationary), päältä (lit. ‘off the head’; ablative, movement away), päälle (lit. ‘to/onto the head’; allative, movement towards) refer to actual location above (20), al-

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though also on the (top) surface (21) of something. This use is not limited to special relations vertically perceived, but has been widely extended to various abstract expressions (22). (20) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 975) Kuin valkea-t aavee-t liitel-i-vät loki-t like white-PL ghost-PL soar-PST-3PL gull-PL järve-n lake-GEN

pää-llä … head-ADE

“Like white ghosts the gulls were gliding above the lake … ” (21) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 2521) … pan-i sitten kala-t peruno-i-den put-PST+3SG then fish-PL potato-PL-GEN “… then (s)he put the fish on top of the potatoes … ”

pää-lle … head-ALL

(22) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 2888, shortened) Ihminen mielellään kävel-isi … järve-n ranna-lla human willingly walk-COND+3SG lake-GEN shore-ADE työpäivä-n päälle … working.day-GEN head-ALL “Anyone would gladly take a walk … along the shore of a lake at the end of a working day … ” The internal local case forms päässä (inessive), päästä (elative), päähän (illative) are used locatively (23) and abstractly (24a, 24b), describing horizontal rather than vertical perception. With the exception of expressions of time (24a), journey and place (24b), the internal case forms are nominal locatives, not grammaticalized adpositions. The meaning of pää as ‘beginning/end’ is pivotal: for example, in dialectal texts the use of the noun pää in the sense of a body part is much less frequent than with the meaning ‘beginning/end’. Those objects that have a knob-like part may be referred to using body-part metaphors. Generally, though, the ‘beginning’or ‘end’of any long object can be referred to as pää. For instance, a table or house with a rectangular form has two “heads”(pöydän pää ‘the end of the table’, talon pää ‘the end of the house’) as has, say, an elongated lake (järven pää), field (pellon pää) or marsh (suon pää). Similarly, there is a “beginning”and an “end”to, for instance, a road (tien pää), a stick (kepin pää) or a sausage (makkaran pää). In some cases pää can mean an ‘ex-


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tremity’. When an internal local case expression is formed from these types of nominal phrase, it does, nevertheless, take on a locative meaning but is no more grammatical than any other nominal phrase of the same form (25). (23) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 2498, shortened) … näk-i-vät he Pylkkäse-n … paista-van kalo-j-a saw-PST-3PL 3PL Pylkkänen-GEN grill-PTCP fish-PL-PTV kepi-n stick-GEN

pää-ssä. head-INE

“… they saw Pylkkänen … grilling fish on the end of a stick.” (24a) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 526) Neljännestunni-n pää-stä quarter.hour-GEN head-ELA mummo-a old.woman-PTV

Selmi tul-i taas Selmi come-PST+3SG again

katso-maan … see-INF

“After a quarter of an hour Selmi came again to see the old woman … ” (24b) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 2510) … Konsta läht-i souta-maan kauppa-an Konsta go-PST+3SG row-INF shop-ILL pari-n couple-GEN

kilometri-n kilometre-GEN

pää-hän … head-ILL

“… Konsta rowed off to the shop a couple of kilometres away … ” (25) Finnish (fabricated) Järve-n pää-ssä on vene. lake-GEN head-INE be+3SG boat “There is a boat at the end of the lake.” (Cf. Järve-n ranna-ssa on vene.) lake-GEN shore-INE be+3SG boat “There is a boat on the shore of the lake.” Locative expressions that include the word pää (23) look the same as the locatives considered earlier that developed metaphorically from body-part names. Just as inanimate items can have a “side”, “flank”, “cheek”or “nose”, they can

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also have a “head”. Interestingly, in these locative expressions, pää is used to describe an entity that is perceived horizontally (such as the lake in example 25). One possible explanation for this could be a zoomorphic conception, because in fact the body of a domesticated animal (cow, horse, pig, etc.) may be thought of as horizontal, in that the head comes first and then the rest of the body. However, an etymological analysis shows that in some cases the development has taken place in the opposite direction, so that the body part meaning is secondary. 3.2.

Secondary ‘heads’ In the Finnic languages (i.e. Finnish, Estonian, Karelian, Vote, Veps, Livonian and Lude), the word meaning ‘head’as a body part dates back to Proto-Finno-Ugrian (ca. 4000 BC). Its proto-form has been reconstructed as *pä e and its meaning as ‘head’. Two other words that originally meant ‘head’ as a body part have also been reconstructed in Proto-Finno-Ugrian, namely *ojwa and *uk3 ~ *ok3. (Janhunen 1981; Sammallahti 1988; UEW.) The abundance of words meaning ‘head’ in Proto-Finno-Ugrian is exceptional, and no explanation has been offered for this. It does, however, lead to doubt about the original meanings of these body-part names. Although the idea that body-part names are typically old and stable in meaning (Häkkinen 1983:31, 2001:173–174; Kulonen 1996:12–14; UEW) has long dominated thinking in Finno-Ugrian studies and in linguistics generally, it is indisputable that in etymological studies on a number of other language families, many body-part names have been shown to be secondary in origin. Consider e.g. Buck (1965:212): Words for ‘head’are from the notion of ‘top, summit’(as conversely often ‘head’for ‘top’), or through ‘skull’from ‘bowl, cup’, ‘potsherd’, or ‘bald’. No account is taken of the countless slang words for ‘head’(NE bean, nut, etc.), [––]

For example, the Italian and Spanish testa and French tête go back to the Latin word meaning ‘pot’(Buck 1965:212–213), and the German Kopf, for its part, to the word meaning ‘drinking-cup, skull’(EWdS s.v. Kopf; see also Campbell 1998:182–183). There are also a number of secondary anatomical names for ‘head’in the Finno-Ugrian languages. In Mordvin, a close relative of the Finnic languages, the name for ‘head’is a, ä. This word is native to Mordvin and can be traced to a Proto-Finno-Ugrian form *perä. Cognates in other related languages mean ‘back’, ‘rear’. Therefore, it is very likely that Mordvin a, ä meaning anatomical ‘head’is a secondary development. This is a widely accepted etymological conclusion (see e.g. UEW). The Udmurt jir and Komi jur, which similarly mean ‘head’as a body part, are also secondary, having developed from the Finno-Volgaic word *jure which means ‘root, end of a root’.


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Cognates in related languages, e.g. in Finnic languages, have retained this original meaning. (See also Suutari 2004:253–258.) The words *perä and *jure both refer to an entity or location (i.e. an end of some sort), leading directly to locative expressions. For example, the modern Finnish words perä ‘back, rear’and juuri ‘root’are used in the same way as the body parts dealt with in the previous chapter. Thus, the local case forms have retained their nominal character (26). Because these notions are based on metaphor in general, it is only possible to form locative expressions from those nouns which have an “end”(perä) or “root”(juuri), although there are a few exceptions (27). The development is at the same stage as that for the word kylki ‘flank, side’: the expression of locativeness in some instances has become divorced from the metaphorical base to become purely grammatical. (26) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 2129) Konsta irrott-i soutuvenee-n K. remove-PST+3SG rowing.boat-ACC moottorivenee-n motor.boat-GEN

perä-stä … rear-ELA

“Konsta untied the rowing boat from the stern of the motor boat … ” (27) Finnish (PS, s.v. juuri) puu-n juuri : puun juure-lla tree-GEN root tree-GEN root-ADE “root of a tree”: “at the root of a tree” > *tunturi-n juuri : tunturi-n juure-lla *fjeld-GEN root fjeld-GEN root-ADE > “foot of an Arctic fell”: “at the foot of an Arctic fell” It is my opinion that the use of the words *perä and *juuri in different FinnoUgrian languages, and especially the development in Mordvin, Udmurt and Komi, suggests that these words have never been, even at the start, wholly concrete or strictly limited in their meaning (28a); rather, they are more abstract and metaphorically extended expressions used in relation to a place (28b). For this reason the development ‘part’> ‘space around a part’does not necessarily describe the historical development accurately. Because the Finnish perä also has the body-part meaning of ‘buttocks’, Heine’s (1997a:44) model (3) could be applied here inversely (‘space around a part’> ‘part’> ‘body part’), even though the starting point is not a concrete noun referring to a type of location, which is assumed by Heine to be the case for this kind of development.

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(28a) Finnish (fabricated) Mies istu-u venee-n perä-ssä. man sit-3SG boat-GEN bottom-INE “A man is sitting at the stern of the boat.” (28b) Finnish (fabricated) Mies ui venee-n perä-ssä. man swim+3SG boat-GEN rear-INE “A man is swimming behind the boat.” Actually, like the words *perä and *jure, the word *pä e, which is also original rather than borrowed and can be reconstructed in Proto-Finno-Ugrian, appears to have originally been a relational noun and not a body-part name. All three words are so close semantically that the same type of semantic development appears to underlie them, and Heine’s (1997a:44) model of the change of meaning can be applied quite well. It is only in Karelian and Hungarian that cognates of the Finnish pää have the meaning of both a body part and ‘beginning/end’. In Mordvin (pe, pä), Udmurt (pu , pum) and Komi (pon, pom) the meaning of the cognate forms is simply ‘beginning/end’or ‘point’, whereas Mansi (pä , pä k, pu k) only has the body-part meaning. Overall, the meaning ‘beginning/end’is more commonly represented across the Finno-Ugrian languages than ‘head’as a body part, and so there is reason to believe that ‘beginning/end’was its original meaning. The Samic languages are fairly close relatives of Finnic. In these languages the anatomical word for ‘head’is oai/ve, oai/vi, etc., which comes from *oiva. This word is an excellent candidate for the original Finno-Ugrian word meaning ‘head’as body part, because there is no suggestion that the body part might be secondary in its etymology. 4 Using the traditional theory, with which several distinct words for ‘head’(body part) were reconstructed, it would be necessary to explain how *pä e and *oiwa could have been retained as synonyms from the time of the Proto-Ugrian language up to Early Proto-Finnic, at which time the Finnic and Samic languages began to diverge. Mordvin raises another problem: if it were assumed that the meaning of the word *pä e ‘beginning/end’is secondary, then two similar types of development in Mordvin ought to be considered as having occurred side by side, one 4

The fundamental meaning of the word is ‘head’(body part) in almost all languages in which cognates are found. There are no indications of a secondary meaning. There is an irregular distribution, but it is found widely across the whole range of languages in the family from Samic to Samoyedic. A number of relics of *ojwa have survived even in the Finnic languages. These are metonymically connected to the meaning of the body part (Finnish oiva(llinen) ‘excellent’and oivaltaa ‘grasp, perceive’). Because the phonological and semantic relations fit perfectly, the irregularity of distribution need not be considered a factor causing uncertainty. (See also Suutari 2004:253–258.)


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in which the name for the body part developed into a locative expression, and the other in which the body-part name developed from a locative expression (*perä: ‘back/end’> ‘head’). If, on the other hand, we assume that the meaning ‘beginning/end’is primary, there is no need to reconstruct these two types of development, and the whole explanation is more plausible. 3.3.

From the abstract to the concrete The figure below (29) illustrates the assumed development of the word *pä e from a locative expression to a body part. What is essential is the concretization of abstraction and the extension of the configuration from horizontal to vertical. The reason why the head, of all body parts, gets a new expression is that its position and form make it the most conspicuous part of the body and it is important as the centre of the senses and intelligence. Moreover, its name should have significance and semantic “weight”. This motivation for differentiating the head from the rest of the body is evident in colloquial Finnish, which has plenty of parallels for ‘head’that are based on either shape (kaali ‘cabbage’, nuppi ‘knob’) or position (latva ‘tree top’, vintti ‘loft’). The development of the Mordvin word a, ä from *perä could be described in a similar way. In stage 1 ‘back/end’reflects one or the other of the two ‘heads’(extremities) of an entity. Together with concretization, the perception is moved from horizontal to vertical. Finally the horizontal perception vanishes, because in Mordvin *pä e remains unaltered with the meaning of ‘beginning/end’. The development of the word *jure in Udmurt and Komi, however, continues to be perceived as vertical, but shifts from lower head to upper head. (29)

‘beginning/end’> ‘head’

The background to the change in perception illustrated above could be that for many entities — for instance a stick — there is no canonical position, even though they have clearly distinguishable beginnings and ends. If the above figure (29) is compared with Heine’s (1997a:44) reversed model for distinguishing the meanings of change (3), the similarity is clear. Abstract expressions of spatial relations can evidently be developed along the same lines as concrete names for types of place or environmental landmarks (e.g. sky). Although following the above, it is possible to explain the Finnish internal local case forms of päässä (inessive; ‘at the beginning/end’), päästä (ela-

TONI SUUTARI

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tive; ‘from the beginning/end’), päähän (illative; ‘in(to) the beginning/end’) and at the same time prove that the meaning of the body-part name pää is secondary, the development of the external local case forms of the root pää still remains to be considered. These forms (päällä, päältä, päälle) can be explained by applying a vertical meaning. The human body is one possible source, but other vertically conceived “heads” could just as well be behind such conceptions. It is more likely, however, that grammaticalization started to occur from those expressions in which the location of or contact with the surface of the head of an object was illustrated (30a). This was followed by a development in which the meaning of location on the ‘upper surface’shifted to the meaning of ‘above’(30b). This type of development is generally associated with grammaticalization, although it can also result from the use of the local cases and from the context. It is thus possible to express contact with an upper surface using the internal local cases, and looser contact or even separation using the external local cases (30a). (30a) Finnish (fabricated) kannon pää stump-GEN head “head of a stump” > Evää-t o-vat kanno-n pää-ssä ~ provisions-PL be-3PL stump-GEN head-INE > “Lunch is on top of the tree stump.”

pää-llä. head-ADE

(30b) Finnish (fabricated) Perhonen lentele-e kanno-n pää-llä. butterfly fly.around-3SG stump-GEN head-ADE “The butterfly is fluttering around the stump.” The grammatical nature of the external local case forms päällä, päältä, päälle is shown by the fact that they can be used freely in vertically based meanings with the noun pää (31a) or with objects having a horizontal “head”(31b). For this reason these expressions cannot be thought of as metaphors; rather, they are independent grammatical units that have become detached from their original stem. (31a) Finnish (SCLOMB/Buris 3614) Pää-ni pää-llä ole-va-t head-1SGPX head-ADE be-PTCP-PL ei-vät enää NEG-3PL more

suojanneet satee-lta. protect rain-ABL

männynoksa-t pine.branch-PL


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“The pine branches above my head no longer protected me from the rain.” (31b) Finnish (fabricated) Älä seiso köyde-n NEG+IMP+2SG stand rope-GEN “Don’t stand on the rope!”

pää-llä head-ADE

(Cf. köyde-n pää : köyde-n pää-ssä) rope-GEN head rope-GEN head-INE (Cf. “end of a rope”: “at the end of the rope”) 3.4.

Estonian pea ‘head’ The external local case forms of the Estonian word pea ‘head’, i.e. peal, pealt and peale, have also been grammaticalized. It is interesting to observe that the meaning ‘above’has partly shifted back to the expression of contact (32a, 32b). In some expressions a dimensional perception has been neutralized to become a common expression for nearby location (2b). This development has resulted from a general analytical tendency in Estonian and has led to adpositional expressions extending their domain into the area of case expressions. As the meaning of grammatical forms with the stem pea have changed, new adpositions have been adopted to convey the meaning of being ‘above’. Thus, the whole case and adpositional system is developing (as shown in 33) in a very different way from that of Finnish, which is developing more slowly in typological terms. (32a) Finnish pöydä-n pää-llä

[table-GEN head-ADE]

pöydä-n pää-ltä

[table-GEN head-ABL]

pöydä-n pää-lle

[table-GEN head-ALL]

(32b) Estonian laua pea-l laua pea-lt laua pea-le

[table+GEN head-ADE] [table+GEN head-ABL] [table+GEN head-ALL]

‘above the table’ (or ‘on the table’) ‘from above the table’ (or ‘off the table’) ‘above the table’ (or ‘on(to) the table’) ‘on the table’ ‘off the table’ ‘on(to) the table’

TONI SUUTARI

124 (33) 1. Before the significant influence of foreign languages

Ge. auf, Sw. på, En. on etc.

2. Modern Estonian

Ge. über, Sw. över, En. over etc.

Finnic local cases


Es. kohal-, üland other adpositions


Es. pealFi. pääl-, Es. peal-

Es. local cases

3. Estonian in the future (hypothesis)



Es. pealEs. local cases Es. kohal-, ül- and other adpositions

The influence of foreign languages, particularly German, is behind the changes (33) in modern Estonian. Foreign languages also influenced the Finnish written language in its early stages in the 1500s and 1600s, although not many such features had a major influence, because most of the writers were either Finnish speakers or very competent in Finnish. The biggest influence came from Swedish, because Finland was a part of Sweden until the beginning of the 19th century. In Estonia, on the other hand, the influence of the German upper class was very powerful until the end of the 1800s. At the beginning of the 1900s Estonian linguistic reform sought to rid the language of foreign influence. In Finland the corresponding phase took place a little earlier, towards the end of the 1800s. If the usage of external local cases of the pää-stem is examined in Standard Finnish and Standard Estonian texts, the development described above is revealed in a concrete manner (34).


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frequencies (per thousand)

(34) ‘Head’forms (adessive, ablative, allative) in Finnish and Estonian 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 1500

1600

1700

1800

1900

centuries Finnish

Estonian

There seems to be little difference between Finnish and Estonian in the presentday situation indicated in the above figure. In reality, however the use of these external case ‘head’forms in Estonian is about four times more common than in Finnish, and the use of these forms in the two languages has, in the course of time, diverged quite considerably. The native and the foreign became entwined in the course of this development. In both Finnish and Estonian, the foreign influence appears to be due to a borrowed model that has started to have its own life. For example, in Estonian many new analytical structures have been generated as part of that language’s internal development. 3.5.

Estonian ots ‘forehead’ Internal local case forms with the word pea ‘head’are not used in Estonian with locative meanings, and nor does the noun pea have a ‘beginning/end’ meaning. However, the word ots, which means ‘forehead’, is also used for the meaning ‘beginning/end’. As explained below, this word presents yet another interesting case of the grammaticalization of body-part names. There is a cognate meaning ‘forehead’in all of the Finnic languages which is perhaps a German loan (Koivulehto 1999 [1986]:253; 1999:272). Etymological problems have been increased by differentiation: in Estonian and Vote the cognates clearly mean ‘beginning/end’as well as being the names for body parts, but in the other Finnic languages including Finnish, the meaning is restricted to this body part and particularly the front of the head. 5 According to 5 As I mentioned above, the best candidate for the original Finno-Ugrian word meaning the anatomic ‘head’is *ojwa. Cognates in the Samic languages, closely related to the Finnic languages, are still used with the meaning of a body part. There are also clear signs of the word’s origin in Finnish, which is not the case in the other Finnic languages. Perhaps, then, it is

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Koivulehto, both meanings, i.e. ‘forehead’and ‘beginning/end’, may be borrowed (see also IEW:48–50; EWdS, s.v. Ende). The Estonian word ots has become highly grammaticalized. The adpositions otsas, otsast, otsa in inner local cases (35b) and otsani in the terminative case are used for the most part in the same way as the Finnish forms päässä, päästä, päähän (35a). (35a) Finnish (SCLOMB/Havu 2459) … järve-n toise-ssa pää-ssä … lake-GEN another-INE head-INE “… at the other end of the lake … ” (35b) Estonian (SCLOMB/Havu 2459) … järve teise-st otsa-st … lake+GEN another-ELA forehead-ELA “… at the other end of the lake … ” Nowadays the meaning of Estonian ots is close to the position of the Finnish word pää, because it has also moved from a horizontal delineation to a vertical one (36). The development was exactly the same as that for *pä e (29). However, ots has been given a secondary meaning of ‘head’in some expressions (37a, 37b), it could be that ots displaced the earlier secondary name for anatomical ‘head’, pea. (36) Estonian (SCLOMB/Havu 2166) Kuuse otsa-s kepsle-s vaskpunane orav. spruce+GEN forehead-INE struggle-PST+3SG copper.red squirrel “A copper-brown squirrel was moving around in the top of a fir tree.” (37a) Estonian (EKI, Haljala) Pea otsa-s kui kadaka poesas. head forehead-INE like juniper bush Lit. “Head on top (of body) like a juniper bush.”(i.e. “hair awry”) (37b) Estonian (ÕS 1999:538) Pühi-b otsa ee-st higi. wipe-3SG forehead+GEN front-ELA sweat+PTV “(S)he wiped the sweat off her/his forehead.”

in the northern areas of the Baltic Sea region that the semantic separation continued for a longer period, where *ojwa meant ‘head’as a body part and *pä e ‘beginning/end’. Where *pä e began to replace the word *ojwa for the meaning of the body part, a need may have arisen to reduce polysemy and give a new word ots the meaning of ‘beginning/end’.


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It is not necessary to describe the grammaticalization process of the word ots by means of the body-part meaning ‘forehead’. Instead, its grammaticalization is based on the spatial meaning ‘beginning/end’and is much the same as for the words *perä (‘back, rear’> Mordvin ‘head’), *jure (‘(end of ) a root’> Udmurt and Komi ‘head’) and *pä e (‘beginning/end’> Finnic ‘head’). 4.

Conclusion I have examined grammaticalization through individual cases and have endeavoured to give a detailed presentation of developments in which progress has occurred from an abstract meaning to a more concrete (body-part) meaning. A body-part name cannot always be separated from the meaning of a part of an object; rather, their meanings may run in parallel. This is typical where there exist secondary body-part names, in which parts of the human body may be described by means of other concepts. In the same way that a stick or stump has a ‘head’, so a person has a ‘head’. Grammaticalized forms have emerged at different stages and in different ways. Even in modern language, expressions have appeared at different times whose origin can only be explained through historical linguistic research and etymological analysis of the original word. Nevertheless, studies often focus on an “unproblematic and primary”body-part name and are restricted to synchronic research. This approach is inadequate, however, because (a) one should not attempt to explain everything anthropocentrically, and (b) historical development ought to be proven separately in every case. It is impossible to establish a clear boundary between the nongrammatical and the grammaticalized. A syntactic-semantic model must, nevertheless, be created with which it is at least possible to divide Finnish body-part stem locative expressions into nominal locatives and grammaticalized adpositions. However, the use of semantic criteria leads to a situation in which even the same form may have to be categorized in different ways in different contexts. On the other hand, the model illustrates how the form came into existence, i.e. on what kind of notions the forms are based. My primary objective has been to describe the observations emerging from the study material and to discuss these in a wider linguistic context. It would appear that in many points of detail my views differ from prevailing concepts, but the broader basis is, I believe the same. Ultimately, what is important is not whether the features I illustrate fit into the realm of grammaticalization theory, but that their nature and complexity is understood. Indeed, the study reveals interesting details about both the speakers and their conceptualization.

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TONI SUUTARI

Data Bible 1992 = Translation of the Bible into Finnish, 1992. Buris = Bels, Albert. Buris. Novel. Estonian and Finnish translation of the Latvian original. In SCLOMB. CSC = CSC – Finnish IT Center for Science. The Language Bank of Finland. (Internet: www.csc.fi/kielipankki/). Helsinki. EKI = Institute of the Estonian Language. Dialectological section. EWdS = Kluge, F. 2002. Etymologisches Wörterbuch der deutschen Sprache. Bearbeitet von Elmar Seebold. 24., durchgesehene und erweiterte Auflage. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Havu = Huovinen, Veikko. Havukka-ahon ajattelija. Novel. Finnish original and Estonian translation. In SCLOMB. IEW = Pokorny, J. 1959, 1969. Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch. Vol. I–II. Bern, München. Ilu = Luik, Viivi. Ajaloo ilu. Novel. Estonian original and Finnish translation. In SCLOMB. MA = Morphology Archives. University of Helsinki, Department of Finnish. PS = Suomen kielen perussanakirja 1–3. [Basic dictionary of Finnish 1–3.] Helsinki: Edita and Research Institute for the Languages of Finland. SCLOMB = Studia comparative linguarum orbis Maris Baltici. Computerized corpus. Turku: Department of Finnish and General Linguistics. UEW = Uralisches etymologisches Wörterbuch I–III. Editor-in-chief Károly Rédei. Wiesbaden, 1986–1991. ÕS 1999 = Eesti keele sõnaraamat. [Dictionary of Estonian.] Tallinn: Institute of the Estonian Language and Eesti Keele Sihtasutus, 1999.

ON DISTINGUISHING BETWEEN RECIPIENT AND BENEFICIARY IN FINNISH

SEPPO KITTILÄ University of Turku

1.

Introduction The paper at hand deals with the case-marking aspect of the present volume. The specific topic is the concept of motion or transfer in relation to the allative case, as used in Finnish to encode the recipient. The role in question will be contrasted with the beneficiary, which is in many respects close to the recipient, although differences — as will be shown — are also evident. Features of grammaticalization will also be touched upon, since one of the central points of the paper is to show that the original semantics of antaa ‘give’are reflected in the allative marking of recipient role. Cases in which the semantics of ‘give’are reflected differently will be discussed. Allative is also used extensively in the expression of motion (see Huumo & Ojutkangas, this volume), which makes its use in the Recipient encoding understandable. These other uses are not relevant to the present paper, and they will thus not be discussed. The goal of the paper is to show that the encoding of Recipient and Beneficiary is rather directly determined by the corresponding semantic roles of recipient and beneficiary. In practice, this means that the use of the allative marking is confined to cases that involve reception, while in the absence of it, the marking shifts to Beneficiary. As has been noted repeatedly by numerous linguists, recipients 1 and beneficiaries have a number of properties in common (see e.g. Shibatani 1996, Song 1998a and Newman 1998:17 and 1999:132ff, Lehmann et al. 2000a:68ff, 1 A note on terminology is in order here. As is typical of studies dealing with the syntax/semantics interface in terms of argument marking, grammatical roles will be referred to employing initial capitals. This means that the labels Recipient, Beneficiary, Theme and Patient refer to the linguistic encoding of the corresponding roles. The absence of capitals, on the other hand, indicates the underlying semantic roles. The labels as such are employed as is typical of functional-typological literature in general. This means that the agent is the participant most directly responsible for the event, ‘theme’refers to the thing transferred (as in ‘the journalist gave the book to the bartender’), recipient is the participant that receives the thing transferred, and the beneficiary derives benefit from the event.

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SEPPO KITTILÄ

Leino 2001:73).2 Recipients are usually defined as the participant that receives an entity transferred to its sphere of control as a result of events like ‘the poet gave the glass to the bartender’, while beneficiaries (or benefactives) are construed as the indirectly affected participant of events like ‘the teacher did that for the boy’, in which nothing per se is transferred from agent to the beneficiary. The most salient of these shared properties is that recipients and beneficiaries usually benefit from the actions in which they participate, which is also the case in the two events here. Consequently, it does not come as any surprise that there are languages in which these two semantic roles are expressed by similar (though in many cases not identical) constructions. The semantic closeness of the two roles is the most manifest in languages such as Niuean and Hokkien Chinese: Niuean (Seiter 1980:32, 36) (1a) age e fua loku ki a give ABS fruit papaya to PM “Give him the papaya”

ia him

(1b)

tunu e au e ika ma cook ERG I ABS fish for “I’m cooking the fish for Sione”

sione John

(1c)

ne taute e au e pasikala afi ma (ha-)ana PST fix ERG I ABS bicycle fire for (of-)him “I fixed the motorbike for him”

(1d)

ne age e sefa e fua moli ma e PST give ERG Sefa ABS fruit orange for ABS “Sefa gave the orange to the child”

tama child

Hokkien Chinese (Newman 1999:132) (2a) chiat pîn-kó h goá cut apple give me “Cut an apple for me” (2b)

pa-pa thàn lúi dad earns money “Dad earns money for me”

h give

goá me

2 The possessive-benefactive connection typical of Oceanic languages, and discussed for example in Song 1998b and Lichtenberk 2002, will not be considered in the present paper.

ON DISTINGUISHING BETWEEN RECIPIENT AND BENEFICIARY

(2c)

chhìu koa h sing song give “Sing a song for me”

goá me

(2d)

g§m pîn-ko h hold apple give “Hold the apple for me”

goá me

(2e)

john khì wellington h John go Wellington give “John went to Wellington for me”

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goá me

Examples in (1a), (1b), (1d) and (2a–b) involve an obvious recipient, while the other examples above rather have a beneficiary (see below for a more detailed definition). In Niuean, the verb agi ‘give’can appear in two frames, illustrated in (1a) and (1d). In (1a) the Recipient is preceded by an adposition that Seiter accords the meaning ‘to’. In (1d), on the other hand, the Recipient bears the same marking as a Beneficiary (see (1b) and (1c)). In Hokkien Chinese, the verb h ‘give’(as part of a serial verb construction) can accommodate all kinds of recipients or beneficiaries, as shown by the data in (2). Niuean and Hokkien Chinese represent extreme cases as regards the non-distinction between the roles of Recipient and Beneficiary. Either the marking remains the same despite obvious differences between the roles (Hokkien), or the differences are neutralized (Niuean). In addition, there are languages in which the differences between the two roles are manifested linguistically. Finnish, which is the language discussed in what follows, illustrates this; cf. (3a)

opettaja anto-i laatiko-n oppilaa-lle teacher give-PST+3SG box-ACC pupil-ALL “The teacher gave the box to the pupil”

(3b)

agronomi ansaitse-e raha-a perhee-lle-en agronomist earn- PRES+3SG money-PTV family-ALL-3PX “The agronomist earns money for his/her family”

(3c)

*agronomi katso-i uutiset lääkäri-lle agronomist watch-PST+3SG news doctor-ALL (Lit. “The agronomist watched the news to the doctor”)

(3d)

agronomi katso-i uutiset lääkäri-n vuoksi agronomist watch- PST+3SG news+ACC doctor-GEN for “The agronomist watched the news for the sake of the doctor”

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SEPPO KITTILÄ

In Finnish, the allative marking of the Recipient is possible only in (3a) and (3b), i.e. in cases that clearly involve a participant that can be labelled as a recipient. Recipient here refers to a participant that, as the label implies, concretely receives the referent of the Theme (or the event as a whole; see (10)) as a result of a given event. In case there is no reception, as in (3c–d), only the adpositional Beneficiary marking illustrated in (3d) is possible. Example (3c) is completely ungrammatical due to lack of reception, while (3d) implies that the doctor benefits from the event denoted (e.g. s/he does not have to watch the news him/herself). Examples in (3) represent evident examples of Recipient and Beneficiary. As the brief discussion above shows, the three languages illustrated in (1) (3) distinguish between the roles of recipient and beneficiary differently. In Hokkien Chinese, the distinction is not linguistically relevant at all, which means that both roles bear the same linguistic coding. In Niuean, the difference is neutralized in some contexts, since the Recipient can be encoded in two different ways, as illustrated in (1a) and (1d). In contrast to Hokkien Chinese, Niuean does, however, have distinct ways of encoding the two roles, as shown in (1a) (1c). In Finnish, the distinction is grammatically highly relevant, and the notion of reception indeed seems to determine the use of the allative in the function of Recipient marking. This means that the allative marking of the Recipient is possible only if the referent of the given argument actually receives something as a result of the event denoted. This is clearly the case in (3a b), but not in (3c d). These languages thus illustrate the obvious similarities (Niuean and Hokkien) as well as the manifest differences (Finnish) between the relevant roles. Both of these aspects merit studies of their own; in the present context, however, the focus will be on the differences. The differences illustrated in (1) (3) are also reflected in the way the roles are defined in the literature. The usual procedure, also followed by Seiter and Newman, is to label the linguistic reference to the recipient of the event ‘give’as the Recipient. This is justified, and no-one would seriously question the fact that the event ‘give’, understood in the typical way as an act whereby a person passes (with the hands) control over an object to another person (see Newman 1996:1), involves a recipient (other uses of the verb antaa ‘give’lie outside the scope of the present paper). Thus ‘give’constitutes the best starting point here. The grammatical role of Beneficiary/ Benefactive is usually defined as the linguistic representation of the third participant in such cases as ‘the cartoon writer baked a cake for me’(see e.g. de Stadler 1996:283ff for Afrikaans). Perhaps the most important reason for this is that the linguistic reference to this kind of role is in many languages different from the encoding of the Recipient of ‘give’. This is also the case in English, as the differences between the professor gave the book to the dean vs. the professor bought a


133

book for the dean clearly show.3 This distinction is based primarily on linguistic evidence, and does not do justice to the semantics of the profiled events; in other words, the distinction is not always semantically justified. In the present paper, the roles of recipient and beneficiary are defined differently. As in any other study concerned with the linguistic expression of reception and/or benefaction, the event ‘give’ is regarded as the canonical three-participant event.4 An event does not qualify as an act of giving if it lacks a recipient, nor is it possible to define the event without any reference to the recipient. It is, however, true that the presence of a recipient may be very conceptual in nature, as in ‘the postal worker gave away all his/her money’, but without a construed recipient the event is not an instance of the event ‘give’. What is also of the utmost importance for transfer in general and especially with regard to ‘give’is that relations of possession or control are being modified. The original state of affairs is that control over the thing being transferred is exercised by the agent; after the act of giving has been completed, control passes to the recipient. This also means that the number of things possessed/controlled by the agent decreases by the number of things transferred to the recipient’s sphere of control (term adopted from Newman 1996:47 and Tuggy 1998), who naturally gains the same number of things. This also implies that the agent and recipient cannot be co-referential. Further features of ‘give’ that can be deemed relevant in the present context are illustrated by the direct targeting of actions at the recipient, and the typically close spatio-temporal relation between agent and recipient (the latter feature distinguishes between ‘give’and ‘send’). Typical examples of a beneficiary are illustrated by the nonagent or non-patient participant of events such as ‘X parked the car for Y’(see also (2c–e) and (3d)). In this case, ‘Y’benefits from the profiled event in not having to park the car. As opposed to the typical recipient of ‘give’, the beneficiary does not receive anything concrete as a result of the profiled event (for example the theme is not transferred to the beneficiary), even though the notion of benefaction is evident. In the present paper, all arguments whose morphosyntactic encoding coincides with that of the recipient of antaa ‘give’are regarded as Recipients, whereas any argument (or adjunct) that corresponds to the linguistic expression of a beneficiary, in such events as ‘one of my parents parked the car for my sibling’, will be labelled Beneficiary. For Finnish, which is the focus of analysis here, this means that all arguments that bear allative marking will be labelled as Recipients. On the other hand, we are dealing with genuine Beneficiaries in Finnish only in cases in which the notion of reception is completely lacking, as in ‘the bus driver drove to Ala-Vista for the benefit of the child’. 3

Obvious differences arise in English too, if we take account of dative shift. Whether the linguistic encoding of ‘give’can also be regarded as canonical is far less clear and is disputed in the literature (see e.g. Borg and Comrie 1984 and Comrie 2003 vs. Haspelmath 2003, 2005). 4

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The Beneficiary bears adpositional marking, as in (3d), for example. It also has to be stressed that reception often implies benefaction. What is, however, important here is that with ‘give’and other events involving a recipient, the role of recipient is far more prominent: it determines the marking in Finnish in cases where both roles are present (as in ‘the baker baked a cake for his/her child’). The more backgrounded the role of the recipient, the less grammatical the use of the allative becomes. Overt (adpositional) Beneficiary marking is usually possible only if the role of recipient is absent. The distinction between the roles is not arbitrary, since the morpho-syntax of the construction corresponds rather directly to the semantic distinction in Finnish between recipient and beneficiary. It is far easier to argue for a semantic difference if it is formally signalled. The events noted above involve the prototypes of recipient and beneficiary. Thus any language in which the distinction between these roles is grammatically relevant will encode these roles differently. Between these two extremes there are many less clear cases, and languages vary more with regard to the linguistic encoding of these participants. In the present paper, a variety of less prototypical cases are studied in light of Finnish data. The goal is to show that Finnish is relatively faithful to the distinction between the roles in question (defined in light of prototypes) as regards their linguistic encoding. Thus allative marking is possible only if the profiled event involves a genuine recipient (either concretely or more conceptually). If this is not the case, the Recipient marking becomes ungrammatical and the marking has to be changed to Beneficiary. As such, motivation of the Recipient marking is irrelevant, which means that in practice any event that involves a transfer of a thing (either concrete or in some cases conceptual) will to some extent be taken into account here. The notion of reception enables us to explain the great majority of uses of the allative case in the function of encoding Recipient, but some cases necessitate a different analysis. These will also be discussed. The relevant distinction will be discussed primarily from the perspective of the role of recipient. This means that I will usually illustrate the role of beneficiary ‘negatively’, i.e. in the light of cases in which the role of recipient is clearly lacking. If there is no reception involved, we are in the domain of pure benefaction. The approach in question is highly applicable to the problem at hand. First of all, where both roles are present it is reception that determines the marking. Furthermore, if we wish to study the use of an element such as Recipient marking in Finnish (or any other language), we also have to study contexts in which the use of the given construction is not possible, and why this is so (see also Rudzka-Ostyn 1996:343). This enables us to define the limits of use much more accurately than does a mere illustration of cases in which it is grammatical. It has to be stressed as well that the close relation between the ‘give’schema and the role of recipient in more general terms is not entailed, and different languages grammaticalize the features of ‘give’dif-


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ferently (cf. Hokkien Chinese in (2)). Thus the following discussion is as such applicable only to Finnish. 2.

On the linguistic encoding of reception and benefaction in Finnish In the present section, I explore the distinction between recipient and beneficiary in Finnish in terms of their linguistic encoding. The present section thus examines an extension of the ‘give’schema. The topic has previously been discussed for example by Leino et al. (see 2001), but in the present study the problem is tackled from another perspective. I start with very obvious cases and proceed gradually to cases in which the notion of transfer or reception is more obscure than with ‘give’, while the role of the beneficiary becomes more prominent. The goal of the discussion is to show that the semantics of ‘give’is still manifest in the allative marking of the Recipient. Some features have faded into the background, but the association with transfer or reception is still very strong (concrete motion is no longer necessary). This means that only if there is a participant that can be regarded as a recipient is the allative marking possible. In addition to obvious differences, cases in which two readings are possible and vary according to the context will also be discussed. Before proceeding to illustrating the relation between allative case marking and Recipient encoding, I very briefly illustrate the uses of the adessive and ablative cases, the other two ‘external cases’of Finnish (see also Huumo & Ojutkangas, this volume). This contrast is highly relevant to the use of the allative in the function of encoding Recipient. First of all, the three cases denote concrete location/motion. The adessive is the static case denoting location, as in ‘the tourist was standing by the well/at the city hall’. The ablative, on the other hand, designates movement away from a place (source), as in ‘the 400 meter finalist comes from the Cayman Islands’. The allative denotes goals, as in ‘the dentist went to the house’. As regards the encoding of relations of possession, the cases work very much in the same way. The adessive denotes possession, the ablative sources (as in ‘the dentist took the book from the student’), while the allative encodes recipients (or intended recipients) of events. The contrast with the adessive and the ablative also contributes to the use of the allative in the function of Recipient encoding, and it is perhaps this contrast that makes the notion of transfer/reception such a manifest feature of allative marking with Recipients. 2.1.

Pure reception As discussed above, the prototype of recipient is illustrated by the recipient of ‘give’. An act of giving is instigated by an agent, and the endpoint is a recipient. The event is not completed until the recipient has received the thing transferred. The transfer of the thing by the agent is volitional, and the recipient directly receives the transferred entity. Further examples of canonical transfer involving typical recipients are given in (4):

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(4a)

kielitieteilijä lähett-i kirje-en linguist send-PST+3SG letter-ACC “The linguist sent a letter to the dean”

dekaani-lle dean-ALL

(4b)

valmentaja heitt-i pallo-n maalivahdi-lle coach throw-PST+3SG ball-ACC goal.keeper-ALL “The coach threw the ball to the goalkeeper”

The events denoted in (4) are similar to ‘give’. They are dynamic events, as a result of which a thing is transferred to the recipient’s domain of possession or sphere of control. It is very difficult to distinguish between ‘give’and the events in (4) on the basis of the nature of the event, let alone the nature of the recipient. There are, however, some differences in the basic semantics of the event that results in the transfer. The interval between the initiation and the completion of the event in (4a) can be very long. An event can be conceived of as an instance of sending if the agent has dispatched something to an intended recipient. Whether the recipient actually eventually gets hold of the thing is less relevant than with ‘give’. The event described in (4b), on the other hand, is a basically transitive event, without the mandatory presence of a recipient. This means that, unlike ‘give’, the recipient is not an integral part of the events denoted. One can kick or throw a ball without there being a recipient present. The nature of the transfer is also different. ‘Give’usually indicates that the thing is transferred directly from hand to hand (at least in the case of concrete transfer, see Newman 1996:1), while in (4b) either the span of transfer is longer (‘throw’) or its manner is atypical (‘kick’). What also distinguishes between events in (4) (especially 4b) and ‘give’is that with ‘give’the change in the possession relations is far more prominent. The interpretation in (4) is rather that control over the thing changes, but no changes in possession are implied. Despite these differences, the events in (4) are very typical events of transfer and they all thus involve a highly typical recipient. Thus it is not surprising that the allative is used to encode the Recipient in (4). As noted, the events in (4) involve a very typical recipient. The most obvious difference compared to ‘give’is that no change in possession is implied. There is, however, no reason to classify the recipients in (4) semantically as anything but typical recipients. In addition, there are cases in which the notion of concrete transfer is far less obvious. A couple of examples are illustrated below: (5a)

hän raken-si muurari-lle s/he build-PST+3SG bricklayer-ALL “S/he built the bricklayer a house”

talo-n house-ACC


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(5b)

Ben Johnson juoks-i häne-lle tonni-n B. J. run-PST+3SG 3SG-ALL thousand-ACC Lit. “Ben Johnson ran a thousand Euro to him/her” (“Ben Johnson gained him/her 1000 euro by running a race”).

(5c)

nyt sata-a maanviljelijä-lle satas-i-a now rain-PRES+3SG farmer-ALL hundred-PL-PTV “Now it is raining hundred Euro bills for the farmer”

The examples above also refer to a situation in which the recipient receives a thing as a result of the event described. Similarly to (4b), the events profiled in (5) do not entail the existence of an external recipient that ‘receives’the event, but the basically transitive or intransitive event is viewed as involving a typical recipient. However, in contrast to (4), the transfer cannot be regarded as direct or in any way targeted. The event in (5a) cannot involve transfer in the canonical sense, since the thing that the recipient receives is a result of the event described (Lehmann et al. (2000b:93) label a similar state of affairs as ‘intended possessive relationship’). In (5b), in turn, the agent may be completely unaware of the fact s/he has earned the recipient a thousand dollars by running (e.g. by winning a race). In (5c), the nature of the event precludes targeting and intentionality. 5 The use of the verb antaa (as in *sade antaa maanviljelijälle satasia, ‘the rain gives the farmer hundred Euro bills’) is simply impossible here, since antaa usually implies intentionality. Another difference between (4) and (5) is the fact that in the latter, even though the number of entities in the recipient’s possession increases, the number possessed or controlled by the agent remains the same. Genuine transfer proceeds from agent to recipient, which does not occur here. The source is rather a third participant that does not have to be stated. The action by the agent initiates an event that eventually results in the recipient receiving the given thing. This also has the consequence that there is no concrete motion in (5). The reception, however, is concrete, making the use of the allative grammatical. The examples in (5) illustrate the very high degree of productivity associated with the Recipient marking. Any event that increases the number of entities in the recipient’s domain of possession or sphere of control can be linguistically encoded by a construction with a Recipient. The examples above only illustrate a couple of cases. The examples in (4)–(5) denote very typical events involving reception, which in the present context means that the states of affair before and the after the events denoted can be distinguished on the basis of the entities in the recipient’s sphere of control or domain of possession. The entity that enters the recipient’s sphere of control or domain of possession must be something that

5 A suitable context for this particular clause is for example a bet that it will rain, which has happened, if (5c) is uttered.

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was not a part of that domain before. Only if this is the case is genuine reception possible. The importance of transfer is manifest in (6): (6a)

*vanhempi kampa-si vauva-lle tuka-n parent comb-PST+3SG baby-ALL hair-ACC (*For: The parent combed the baby (some) hair)

Example (6a) is ungrammatical. This results from the fact that combing someone’s hair is not an act that results in something entering the beneficiary’s sphere of control. This is typical of all grooming verbs in Finnish; this is unsurprising, since fictive motion or reception that increases the number of entities in the recipient’s domain of possession is impossible in these cases. Body parts are inalienably possessed by humans, and thus cannot enter their domain of possession as a result of grooming events. However, the use of an allatively marked Recipient becomes fully grammatical if an act of grooming produces something that was not a part of the recipient’s domain of possession before the event occurred in the form indicated by the clause. The number of entities possessed by the recipient remains constant but their nature is sufficiently different, rendering the use of the allative possible: (6b)

vanhempi kampa-si vauva-lle parent comb-PST+3SG baby-ALL “The parent parted the baby’s hair”

jakaukse-n parting-ACC

Example (6b) differs from (6a) in that something that was not a part of the recipient’s sphere of control in this particular form enters it as a result of the event described. In (6b), the recipient did not have a parting before the event occurred. Even though the hair as such is exactly the same, at some conceptual level the difference between past and present is conceived of as significant enough to be considered a new property of the recipient. This is also in line with the typical meaning of the allative encoding of Recipients. The examples in (6) also stress the fact that the mere benefaction does not suffice to make the allative marking possible; some form of reception is also required. In (6a) the use of the allative is excluded, since body parts are intrinsic parts of a human being; thus they cannot enter our domain of possession (or sphere of control), which is a prerequisite for the use of the allative. A somewhat different example that underlines the significance of this is illustrated in (7): (7)

vanhempi ompel-i lapse-lle myssy-n parent sew-PST+3SG child-ALL hat-ACC “The parent sewed a hat for the child”


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The reading in which the theme is not a part of the recipient’s sphere of control prior to the event denoted is the only possible one in (7). The difference between (6a) and (7) is that in (6a) the transfer of possession is excluded on the basis of the inalienable possession of body parts, while in (7) the semantics of the construction along with the nature of the event denoted is responsible for this (the allative usually implies reception or change in possessive relations). In other words, the use of the allative in (7) implies that prior to the event the child did not have the hat in question in his/her immediate possession. Hence, similarly to (4)–(5), there is an increase in the number of entities controlled or possessed by the recipient. The reading ‘the parent sewed the child’s hat’is far less felicitous, and to express this meaning we have to use a construction with a genitive phrase. What is common to the examples in (4)–(7) is that a new entity enters the recipient’s sphere of control or domain of possession. Relations of possession or control are also manipulated in the process. In principle, the transfer of possession or control implies (yet does not entail) that the recipient will eventually do something with the thing that enters its sphere of control or domain of possession. This means, for example, that someone who has won a thousand Euro is going to use the money for some purpose. This feature as such was not of any great significance in (4)–(7) as regards the use of allative in the Recipient marking, even though it is pragmatically plausible that the recipient will sooner or later do something with the thing transferred. An example in which this feature is manifest is illustrated in (8): (8)

opiskelija pes-i foneetiko-lle student wash-PST+3SG phonetician-ALL “The student washed a car for the phonetician”

auto-n car-ACC

At first sight, example (8) seems very similar to the examples in (4)–(5). This means that the ‘car’enters the recipient’s sphere of control as a result of the event denoted. However, the semantics of the underlying transitive event in (8) precludes a reading that is plausible in (4a). On the basis of our general knowledge of states of affairs in the world, we know that cars do not come into existence as a result of washing. What is also important for how example (8) is interpreted is that the event profiled in (8) is not a prerequisite for driving a car. The more probable reading of the event would thus be that the indirectly affected participant is a beneficiary. This discrepancy between the semantics of the event denoted in (8) and the semantics associated with the allative marking of the Recipient makes (8) seem ungrammatical at first. However, examples like (8) are fully grammatical if the feature of direct use is stressed; in other words, (8) entails that the agent’s action has a definite goal to benefit the phonetician (see also Leino 2001:77). Example (8) refers to a scenario in which a student has washed a car for a phonetician so that the latter can drive it. The

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clause is felicitous, for example, in case that there are many cars, all of which are so dirty that no-one wants to be seen driving one of them. If one of them is properly washed, it can be driven (and the result of the event can be exploited). Mere benefaction, as in ‘X washed the car as a favour to Y, so that s/he does not have to be ashamed’does not render examples like (8) felicitous. Transfer of possession is not entailed in (8) and such a reading is actually highly improbable, which is a deviation from the original semantics of ‘give’. In (7) possession is modified, making the use of the transferred thing optional (as regards the use of the allative). The recipient can wear the hat, but this is not entailed by the grammaticality of the given clause; (8), on the other hand, is not felicitous without this feature. 2.2.

Conceptual reception/motion In (8), the notion of genuine transfer is more obscure than in (4)–(5), for example, since the more probable reading is that possessive relations are not manipulated. However, transfer is still somehow conceivable, since the recipient’s sphere of control is entered by a concrete thing. Despite this, the use of an allatively marked Recipient is possible only if the transfer has a definite goal. This is even more prominent in cases like (9), in which no genuine transfer can occur due to the nature of the event denoted: (9)

portieeri ava-si juopunee-lle ove-n doorman open-PST+3SG drunk-ALL door-ACC “The doorman opened the door for the drunk”

Despite the allative marking of the Recipient, the number of entities in the recipient’s sphere of control or domain of possession in (9) remains constant. Furthermore, due to the lack of genuine transfer, the only plausible reading of (9) is that the Recipient refers to a beneficiary; this clearly violates the generalization proposed here. The mere beneficiary interpretation is cancelled on the basis of the allative marking of Recipient. Rather, what is ‘transferred’is the event as a whole, not the theme alone. Due to the lack of genuine transfer, it is essential in (9) that the beneficiary be able to make use of the favour, which means here that a door has been opened in order that the drunk in question can enter or exit a room. The intended reading of (9) cannot be that the door has been opened without any direct benefit for the allatively coded argument (see, however, the discussion in 2.4.). This feature makes the allatively encoded participant more similar to a typical recipient than to a beneficiary. Recipients more often use the things that enter their sphere of control than do beneficiaries (see also Newman 1996:53 and Leino 2001:74). One obvious reason for this is that typical beneficiaries merely benefit from events, without receiving anything they can make concrete use of. Since the transfer as such is less obvious in (9), the notion of direct use is stressed, and primarily renders the use of alla-


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tive possible (in the absence of this feature, example (9) is less felicitous). The role of the beneficiary is more prominent than in the previous examples, which makes the association with direct use necessary. The mere degree of benefaction is not decisive here, as the discussion of (11) and (12) below will show. In (9), the role of the beneficiary is conceptually prominent. As a result, only if the focus is on the notion of direct benefit, which is also typical of the recipient, are clauses like (10) grammatical. The next step towards the purely beneficiary end of the continuum is illustrated in (10): (10a) vanhempi luk-i lapse-lle (kirja-n) parent read-PST+3SG child-ALL (book-ACC) “The parent read (a book) to the child” (10b) pappi laula-a toimittaja-lle (serenadi-a) priest sing-PRES+3SG journalist-ALL (serenade-PTV) “The priest is singing (a serenade) for the journalist” As the semantics of the events in (10) implies, no transfer of concrete things occurs here. This is also reflected in the fact that the theme is both conceptually and formally an optional part of the event/clause in (10). The book does not enter the allatively coded recipient’s domain of possession or sphere of control in (10a), nor does this happen in the case of the serenade in (10b). This is excluded by the nature of the entity in question and also of the event in more general terms (cf. Alhoniemi 1983:219). Furthermore, direct benefit in the sense of (9) is excluded in (10). At first sight, examples like (10) seem to be counterexamples to the claim that reception or direct benefit for the recipient is a prerequisite for the use of allatively marked Recipients in Finnish. We therefore have to justify the grammaticality of (10) in terms of other facets of the ‘give’schema. The events in (10) can be viewed as special instances of transfer (Alhoniemi (1983:219ff) regards such cases as a transfer of cognitive contents). They involve an agent, an optional theme, and a third participant towards which the effect of the event is targeted. Similarly to ‘give’, the energy flow is direct and flows from agent to recipient. The semantics of the event makes a genuine recipient reading impossible, but the analogy between the events is sufficient to allow use of the ‘give’schema. Further features of ‘give’that perhaps also contribute to the allative marking in (10) are that the agent deliberately targets its action at the referent of the Recipient and that the spatio-temporal relation between agent and recipient is usually very close. This implies that the recipient has to be able to receive the action performed. The examples in (10) do not denote reading or singing rehearsals, which someone happens to overhear. However, in contrast to the rather active involvement of a recipient in an event of giving, the recipient in (10) does not have to pay attention to the occurring event, even though

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without direct targeting by the agent the examples in (10) are not possible. Moreover, the Recipient does not refer to an obvious beneficiary in (10), rendering the use of Beneficiary marking implausible. 2.3.

Encoding benefaction Examples in (4)–(10) and the related discussion have hopefully shown that the most important criteria for using the allative in the function of encoding Recipient are the reception along with transfer of control or possession and the direct benefit for the recipient (see (9)). Only the examples in (10) cannot be justified on the basis of these criteria, but the similarities with the typical ‘give’-event can explain the use of allative here. Thus, the use of the allative in all the cases above can be shown to follow from the semantics of ‘give’. If none of the traits associated with ‘give’is present, and the role of beneficiary is far more salient than that of recipient, the use of allative is not possible. This is illustrated in (11): (11)

*puoliso sö-i liha-n lehtori-lle spouse eat-PST+3SG meat-ACC lecturer-ALL (“The spouse ate the meat for the lecturer”)

The example in (11) is ungrammatical, due mainly to the lack of transfer/reception and the absence of a definite goal. The semantics of (11) excludes both of these properties. The degree of benefaction is irrelevant; thus the event in (11) may be of greater benefit to the beneficiary than events in (4)–(8), but since mere benefaction does not render the allative possible, (11) is ill-formed. What distinguishes (11) from the events described in (4)–(9) is that there is no transfer, nor can the beneficiary receive the effect of the event directly. In contrast to (10), on the other hand, the events in (11) deviate considerably from the canonical ‘give’schema. The beneficiary in (11) is not the participant at which the effect of the event is targeted. The semantics of (11) precludes this, and the relation between the resultant state of affairs and benefaction is far less evident than in the case of ‘the guard opened the door for the guest of honour’. As noted above, the notion of direct benefit and the transfer of the event or thing are lacking in (11), which excludes the use of allatively marked Recipients. However, as noted above, these events do involve a beneficiary. This means that the Beneficiary marking is fully grammatical. The Beneficiary marking of (11) is illustrated in (12)6:

6 Finnish has multiple ways of encoding the role of beneficiary (with semantic differences), but for the sake of simplicity, only vuoksi is considered here.


(12)

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puoliso sö-i liha-n lehtori-n vuoksi spouse eat-PST+3SG meat-ACC lecturer-GEN for “The spouse ate the meat for the sake of/because of the lecturer”

In contrast to (11), example (12) is grammatical. The event is carried out to someone’s benefit, which naturally makes the use of Beneficiary marking possible, or rather obligatory, as shown by the grammaticality of (12) and the ungrammaticality of (11). In (12), a transitive event is viewed as beneficial for a further participant that is not an integral part of the denoted event. Thus the event in (12) clearly comprises two subparts conceived of as one. The benefit is more indirect than in (9). Example (12) can for example refer to a situation in which the beneficiary is organizing an important dinner, and a spouse agrees to eat something that s/he would not normally eat. This can result in the beneficiary being hired for a job s/he has applied for. The primary target of the event is the patient, while the beneficiary benefits from this without being actively involved in the event. The benefit may be significant and the result very much the same as that arising out of events in (4) (9). However, the act of eating does not directly result in getting the job in the same way as throwing a ball results in a transfer of the given entity. The cause-effect relations are more complex and less direct in (12). In (11) and (12), the ungrammaticality of the former and the Beneficiary marking of the latter are largely lexically conditioned. The differences between these readings become more obvious if we take the following examples into account: (13a) muurari raken-si talo-n lapse-lle-en bricklayer build-PST+3SG house-ACC child-ALL-3SGPX “The bricklayer built a house for his/her child” (13b) muurari rakens-i talo-n lapse-nsa vuoksi bricklayer build-PST+3SG house-ACC child-GEN+3SGPX for “The bricklayer built a house for/because of/for the sake of her/his child” The Recipient vs. Beneficiary marking in (13) is not lexically determined, but the underlying transitive clauses allow the introduction of both a Recipient and a Beneficiary. This implies that the two roles are not the same. Taking account of cases like (13) provides us with new insights into the meaning of the roles at issue. Example (13a) profiles an event that results in something being transferred to the sphere of control or domain of possession of the recipient. In (13a), this means that after the event has been completed the child has a house. This is not the case in (13b), where the agent itself is the recipient. In contrast to the mere transitive event of building, the event in (13b) is carried out to

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someone else’s benefit. (13b) thus implies that the brick layer has built a house for him/herself in order to be able to accommodate her/his child when the latter visits the former. In this case, the beneficiary can be seen as having temporary control over the theme, which does not belong to its domain of possession. This distinguishes between beneficiary and recipient in cases like (13a) and (13b). The use of the allative implies reception, while Beneficiary marking merely implies that the indirectly affected participant benefits from the action without receiving the theme. The Beneficiary cannot carry allative marking, since this would entail that the agent itself is not the recipient of the event. There is no variation in the meaning, but Recipient invariably refers to a recipient, while Beneficiary signals a beneficiary. 2.4.

On the effects of pragmatics The examples examined thus far have illustrated the most basic instances of Recipients and Beneficiaries. The allative typically encodes participants that receive the thing transferred, as in (4) (8), or the event as a whole, as in (9), while the Beneficiary encodes participants that only benefit from the events. ‘Basic’here means that the Recipient or Beneficiary marking largely follows from the basic semantics of the events. In addition, there are cases in which both readings are possible, as in (13). In the following I examine further examples that underline the differences between the grammatical roles of Recipient and Beneficiary. This is achieved by focussing on contexts in which the expected reading is essentially beneficiary; a recipient reading, however, is possible, if a context can be envisioned in which the indirectly affected participant can be seen as a recipient. The following examples involve a typical recipient, but the semantics of the events denoted are more or less incompatible with this reading. In contrast to (7) (9), the recipient reading is thus less probable. The purpose of the following discussion is to further illustrate the central role of reception and/or direct benefit for the use of the Recipient. As noted above, the acceptability of clauses with allatively marked Recipient depends largely on whether the indirectly affected participant can be conceived of as bearing the role of the recipient. Whether the recipient is the most probable reading or whether we have to produce a special context is not relevant in this regard, as shown in (14): (14a) vanhempi tappo-i perhee-lle-en hirve-n parent kill-PST+3SG family-ALL-3SGPX moose-ACC “The parent killed a moose for his/her family” (14b) !vanhempi tappo-i perhee-lle-en ihmise-n parent kill-PST+3SG family-ALL-3SGPX human-ACC “The parent killed a human being for his/her family”


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(14c) !bussikuski parkkeeras-i puoliso-lle-en auto-n bus.driver park-PST+3SG spouse-ALL-3SGPX car-ACC “The bus driver parked a car for his/her spouse” In (14a) the default role of the indirectly affected participant is recipient, rendering this example grammatical without a specific context. (14a) profiles an event in which a parent kills a moose for his/her family so that they can eat it (or do other things with it). The notion of direct benefit and/or reception is evident. Examples (14b) and (14c) are also acceptable, but only in specific contexts. The semantics of the denoted event and the marking of the indirectly affected participant seem to disagree here. Pragmatically the most plausible reading is that the indirectly affected participant bears the role of beneficiary, which renders the allative marking odd. The likely reading of (14b), for instance, is that a parent killed someone who had been threatening his/her family, in which case the family bears the role of beneficiary. Thus the correct role for the participant in question would be beneficiary. What is crucial for the grammaticality of (14b) is that the family has to be construed as a recipient. Such a context is provided by a scenario in which the family in question has cannibalistic eating habits or practices necrophilia. Both of these scenarios are relatively rare in modern society, and thus examples like (14b) are typically considered odd. They cannot, however, be regarded as actually ungrammatical, since in specific contexts they are acceptable and constitute the most appropriate way of denoting these specific states of affairs. Example (14c) represents a similar case. Here too the beneficiary is the more probable role of the indirectly affected participant; as noted in the introduction, this kind of event can even be thought of as the prototypical beneficiary. However, similarly to (14b), a recipient reading can also be forced; (14c) is felicitous if the agent works as a parking valet, and can thus by working hard earn his/her spouse a car. Examples (14b) and (14c) differ from (11)–(12), since there are contexts in which the recipient reading can be construed, while in (11)–(12) this is not possible. The examples above provide us with further evidence for the recipient coding function of the allative, since if such a reading can be construed, seemingly ungrammatical cases become felicitous. On the other hand, if such a context is not conceivable, the Recipient marking is ungrammatical. 2.5.

Unorthodox cases The discussion in the previous sections justifies labelling the encoding of Recipient as the most important function of the allative marking (the use of allative in the function of encoding motion is not considered here). The examples examined diverge in whether the recipient reading is primarily lexically or contextually determined, but this does not affect the primary function in any way. Only in (10), illustrating the use of the allative in the function of marking the target of such acts as reading or singing, is the notion of reception to any

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great extent less evident. However, the analogy with the ‘give’schema along with the direct targeting of the action at the allatively encoded participant makes a contribution here. In addition, there are cases in which the features discussed thus far cannot explain the allative encoding of Recipients. In what follows, two different instances of this (one comprising two slightly different subtypes) will be discussed. Example (14) illustrated the difference between killing a moose and a human being in relation to the recipient/beneficiary distinction. The main point of the discussion was that mere benefaction does not suffice to make the Recipient encoding possible. However, the first unorthodox use of the Recipient is represented by cases in which the mere notion of benefaction suffices for using the allative. Typical examples involve scenarios in which the participant encoded as the Recipient is incapable of carrying out a given action him/herself, probably due to physical inability. For example, as regards cases like avustaja avasi ikkunan ulkoasiainministerille ‘the assistant opened the window for the Minister of Foreign Affairs’, this can denote a scenario in which the allatively encoded participant is lying in bed and cannot open the window him/herself. The allative thus encodes a typical beneficiary that merely benefits from an action without making any direct use of the given favour. Since physical inability hinders the allatively encoded participant from carrying out the denoted event itself, we may claim that the degree of benefaction is higher in such cases; this may also explain the use of Recipient in this unorthodox sense. It has to be stressed that the mere degree of benefaction as such is not sufficient; if this were the case, the examples in (11) should be felicitous as well in favourable contexts. The Beneficiary marking usually expresses the meaning that a favour is performed instead of someone else who would have been able to initiate the event him/herself. Despite this, another agent performs the action instead of the beneficiary. In case someone cannot carry out a give event him/herself, this contrast is not available, and the Beneficiary marking would thus produce a wrong kind of reading. On the other hand, the Recipient usually refers to a participant which is not primarily responsible for a three-participant event, and is not able to initiate the event by him/herself (in the role of recipient). In the case of ‘give’, this means that the agent is primarily responsible for whether or not the recipient receives the thing transferred (see also J. Leino 2001:73). The recipient does not exercise any control over the initiation of a three-participant event. This feature of ‘give’is extended to encoding beneficiaries in cases like the one at issue here. The analogy is rather obvious, since without the action by agent the referent of the Recipient would not have gained benefit from the event. The inability (which can also be a deliberate choice) of the allatively coded participant to initiate the event is prominent here. Another thing worth noting in this context is courtesy. Examples like avasin juhlavieraalle ikkunan ‘I opened the window for the guest of honour’


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are also felicitous in contexts in which the agent is being polite. This use can be traced back to what was previously discussed. In this case, the beneficiary is not actually incapable of carrying out the action for instance of opening a window, but in his/her position s/he is not expected to do so. Here it is thus ‘contextual incapacity’(as opposed to real physical incapacity) that determines the use of the Recipient. The other atypical use of Recipient is illustrated by cases in which the event as a whole is dedicated to the referent of the Recipient: (15a) koomikko jo-i malja-n comedian drink-PST+3SG toast-ACC “The comedian drank a toast to God”

Jumala-lle God-ALL

(15b) !maalivahti torju-i mestaruude-n lapse-lle-en goalkeeper save-PST+3SG championship-ACC child-ALL-3SGPX “The goalkeeper saved the championship for his/her child” In neither of the cases in (15) does the allatively encoded participant receive the referent of the Theme.7 A context in which the examples in (15) are felicitous is provided by a scenario in which the effect of the event is thought of as conceptually entering the Recipient’s sphere of control. More concretely, this means that the event in question is dedicated to the referent of the Recipient (the verb omistaa ‘dedicate’governs a Recipient as well). (15a) denotes a rather typical example of such a scenario. In most religions, things are dedicated to God. In a religion in which toasts are drunk to God, an example like (15a) would be completely normal. In (15b), on the other hand, the goalkeeper dedicates the championship, which s/he has just won by making a sufficient number of saves, to his/her child. The dedication sense is less obvious than in (15a), but is possible in a suitable context. The analogy between ‘give’schema and the examples in (15) is rather obvious. In both cases there is an agent, a theme and a third participant. In contrast to ‘give’, genuine transfer of the theme is excluded on the basis of the semantics of the events in (15); thus the use of the allative in (15) does not result in misinterpretation. Moreover, the use in the dedication sense is not possible in the case of inherently ditransitive events, since in these cases the Recipient always refers to a genuine recipient. What is of further relevance here is that the use in cases like (15) of Recipient as opposed to Beneficiary stresses the dedication. The person to whom an event is dedicated is seen as superior, indicating that the agent is seen as alone responsible for the event. The use of Beneficiary in (15), which is also possible but produces a different reading, would too strongly stress the more active contribution of the referent 7 (15b) is naturally fully grammatical if the child and the goalkeeper are playing in the same team. In this case the child represents a rather typical recipient.

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of the Beneficiary to the occurrence of the event, and would add a nuance of indirect causation. This reading can be avoided in cases like (15) by using the allative. The dedication sense is thus also very closely related to the courtesy use of the allative, discussed briefly above. Moreover, the sense of genuine benefaction is lacking in (15), making a reading of beneficiary implausible. 2.6.

Allative encoding of a maleficiary Reception in general can be seen as beneficial. This has been the case in most of the examples discussed thus far. The role of the recipient is more prominent in these cases, which determines the allative marking of Recipients. The prominence of reception, however, can also be viewed from another perspective. In this section, I examine some cases in which the recipient can rather be regarded as a maleficiary, i.e. as a participant that is adversely affected by an event or to whose detriment an event is. The aim is to further stress the differences between recipients and beneficiaries, and to show that the allative encodes reception, not benefaction. The roles of recipient and source8 are usually clearly definable; a participant either receives something or it loses control over or possession of an entity. The boundaries are clear-cut, and there are no intermediate forms between the roles. The roles of beneficiary and maleficiary (the latter is here regarded as the opposite of the former), on the other hand, are far more conceptual; we all conceptualize benefaction and malefaction differently, and there are no absolute criteria for judging between them (see also Tuggy 1996:430f). This has the result that in the case of reception too maleficiary is a possible role of the recipient, while source is not. Furthermore, the (beneficiary vs. maleficiary) nature of reception depends on the nature of the thing transferred. A couple of examples that illustrate these differences are given below: (16a) matkaopas ysk-i turisti-lle sars-in guide cough-PST+3SG tourist-ALL sars-ACC Lit. “The guide coughed the tourist [a case of] SARS” (16b) oppilas ost-i opettaja-lle tämä-n romu-n student buy-PST+3SG teacher-ALL this-ACC piece.of.junk-ACC “The student bought the teacher this piece of junk” The Recipient unarguably bears the role of recipient in all these cases, and the examples in (16) are in this respect very similar to (4) and (5). Differences arise, however, if we consider the consequences of reception. The far more probable reading of the examples in (16) is that the recipient is viewed as a maleficiary instead of beneficiary. Example (16a) illustrates a basically intran8 The label here comprises cases such as ‘she/he took the ball from the child’. A detailed discussion of source falls outside the scope of the present paper.


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sitive event, which in this case is seen as extending to a further participant. The event ‘buy’is usually regarded as beneficial for the recipient, since the things bought are usually entities that the recipient needs; at least we do not usually buy things that are to our detriment. This state of privation is cancelled as a result of ‘buy’. However, whether the recipient bears the role of beneficiary or maleficiary depends on the nature of the thing transferred. In (16b), the role of the recipient is probably more of a maleficiary, since the reception of the theme most likely has an adversative effect on the recipient. Example (16b) best illustrates the conceptual and variable nature of the recipient. It depends on the judgement of the recipient whether an act of transfer is viewed as beneficial or detrimental. In (16b), the event might be thought of as beneficial from the viewpoint of the agent, but the actual state of affairs proves to be different. The examples in (16) underline the distinction between recipient and beneficiary. Different individuals conceptualize states of affairs differently, yielding the kind of variation represented in (16). Thus only the role of recipient is inherent for Recipient, while the degrees of benefaction or malefaction vary. It is of course true that there are many events that typically imply a strong relation between recipient and beneficiary, but the actual reading varies. Thus the usually implied relation between recipient and beneficiary is justified. In (16) the role of the recipient is constant, but there is variation in whether the recipient is seen as a beneficiary or as a maleficiary. A further and rather interesting example, which in its own way further stresses the close relation of recipient and beneficiary, is the following: (17)

lasinpuhaltaja tek-i tämä-n glassblower do-PST+3SG this-ACC “The glassblower did this to/for me”

minu-lle 1SG-ALL

The event denoted in (17) also has two different readings. In contrast to (16), the differences between the two readings are more evident. In the first reading, the agent produces something concrete and transfers this to the recipient. This represents a very typical event of transfer or reception, and the variation discussed in light of (16) is also possible here; thus the recipient can be regarded as either a beneficiary or a maleficiary, depending on the nature of the thing transferred. However, differently from (16), a purely maleficiary reading is also possible in (17). The maleficiary reading comprises events in which someone has done something that adversely affects the speaker. Unlike the previous case, in which there is a recipient involved, no concrete reception occurs in the case of the maleficiary reading. What is of further interest is that a purely beneficiary reading is excluded in (17); this is in line with the claims made in previous sections as to the primary function of the Recipient marking.

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Conclusions The present paper has been concerned with the distinction in Finnish between recipient and beneficiary. I hope to have shown that the distinction between the two roles is possible and in fact necessary. The paper will hopefully be of interest to general typologists dealing with similar distinctions across languages. A detailed study of the distinction in Finnish has been lacking to date, at least in a framework (and language) accessible to scholars working in typological-functional linguistics. The purpose of the paper was to show that the semantics of the verb ‘give’is manifest in the use of the Recipient in Finnish. Some of the features related to the event ‘give’in general have faded into the background, but the notion of transfer/reception is still very prominent in the uses illustrated in the paper. Here I review and summarize the most important findings of the paper. As noted in the introduction, ‘give’can justly be considered the canonical three-participant event. It mandatorily involves an agent, a theme (thing transferred) and a recipient. It is not possible to define the event ‘give’without explicit reference to all of these roles at some level of description. Thus it is not surprising that there are many languages in which ‘give’constitutes the basis for Recipient marking in general. There are two ways in which this marking can arise out of ‘give’. First, there are languages in which the verb ‘give’is used in a serial verb construction in the function of accommodating a Recipient. This was illustrated in Section 1 with examples from Hokkien Chinese. The other frequent pathway from ‘give’to Recipient is illustrated by languages such as Finnish, in which the Recipient marking of ‘give’(i.e. the allative case in Finnish) extends to Recipients in general. The contrast between the allative, ablative and adessive cases also makes a contribution here (see Section 1 for a brief discussion). Even though the starting point in the cases examined is the same, the result can be very different (see Newman 1996:220 for Hokkien and Cantonese). In Finnish, the single most important feature of ‘give’seen in the general Recipient marking is the notion of reception. This means that the use of the allative in this function is possible and also required whenever the event denoted involves reception. Whether this is an inherent feature of the verb (as with ‘give’, ‘send’or ‘buy’) is irrelevant, as is the fact whether recipient is the more probable reading associated with Recipient. This has the consequence that the use of the allative in this function is highly productive, especially since this is the only mechanism available for this function in Finnish. ‘Give’(along with many other events that inherently involve three participants, such as ‘send’and ‘buy’) represents an event in which an agent transfers a thing to the recipient. This entails a change in the possessive or control relations of the thing given: the quantity of entities in the agent’s sphere of control or the domain of possession decreases, while the quantity of entities possessed or controlled by the recipient increases by the same number. The former of these


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features is relevant to the use of Recipient, while the latter is not. The former implies that the use of the allative is possible only if possession of or control over the referent of the Theme is somehow modified. This restricts the use of allative in a pure benefactive sense, as in ‘the parent sewed the child’s hat’or ‘the student washed the professor’s car’. The latter in turn means in the present context that the use of the allative in the function of encoding Recipient is possible regardless of whether or not the number of entities possessed or controlled by the agent actually decreases. The reception of a thing by the recipient is more important in this respect. In the latter case there are also obvious similarities shared by the recipients of ‘give’and other recipients, so the use of the allative is predictable. In addition to cases in which the features of ‘give’are relatively manifest, the use of the allative has extended to other kinds of cases as well. Here too there are some features related to ‘give’. One of the features that makes a contribution here is represented by what has been labelled in the present paper as direct benefit (‘definite goal’in J. Leino 2001:77). Events like ‘the ranger opened the door for the inspector’at first seem beneficial, but the use of the allative is possible in case the denoted event involves direct benefit. In this particular case, this means that the inspector has to exit or enter the room whose door has been opened. This feature also makes these kinds of beneficiary more similar to a typical recipient, in that typical recipients usually make use of the transferred thing, even though this is not entailed. The obvious differences between the roles explored in the present paper are also reflected in the fact that reception as such is neutral with regard to whether the recipient is viewed as beneficiary or maleficiary. As shown in (16), the role of recipient determines the marking of Recipient regardless of whether the event is viewed as beneficial or detrimental to the recipient. This means that the notion of reception is clearly more important here; if this is not present, the use of Recipient usually yields ungrammatical constructions. As has been shown above, mere benefaction, no matter how significant it may be, does not suffice for use of the allative. This was illustrated in (11) and (12). Only if the beneficiary somehow directly benefits from the action, as illustrated and discussed in (8) and (9), is the use of the allative possible. However, in addition to typical uses, discussed at length in the previous section, there are two special contexts in which direct benefit or reception is not necessary. The first of these is closely related to beneficiaries. The use of the allative in a more or less purely beneficiary function is possible if the referent of the Recipient is incapable of carrying out the given action him/herself. The other unorthodox use of Recipient is illustrated by the dedication of an event to the allatively encoded participant. In both cases, the semantics of ‘give’is also exploited, but facets different from those in typical cases are stressed. These cases are perhaps the most interesting with regard to possible future investigation of similar phenomena in other languages, since it is interesting to see what

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kinds of unorthodox uses similar encoding can have cross-linguistically. Such uses may provide us with new insights into the semantics of ‘give’and Recipient marking more generally.

OBLIQUE MENTIONS OF HUMAN REFERENTS IN FINNISH CONVERSATION THE EFFECTS OF PROMINENCE IN DISCOURSE AND GRAMMAR

RITVA LAURY California State University, Fresno University of Helsinki

1.

Introduction A wide range of scholars have made the observation, robustly supported by empirical evidence, that human referents tend to manifest features of prominence on the level of both discourse and grammar. Namely, human referents are likely to be topical and agentive (Kuno 1976, Dixon 1979, Comrie 1978, Silverstein 1976b, 1981) and they are consequently likely to appear in core grammatical roles, especially as subjects (Du Bois 1987, Ashby and Bentivoglio 1993, Thompson 1997, Nakayama and Ichihashi-Nakayama 1994, Kärkkäinen 1996, Helasvuo 1997, 2001). However, human referents are not confined to core grammatical roles; mentions of humans can be and in fact are also made in oblique cases. This study sets out to investigate oblique case mentions of human referents in Finnish, a language well known for its rich case system. Given that humans are normally mentioned in core cases, oblique mentions of a human referent can be taken as an unexpected choice, something to be explained. What might be some of the reasons for oblique mentions of human referents? For example, one might presume that human referents that are mentioned in the oblique cases might lack the inherent topicality and salience which has been considered the reason why they tend strongly to be mentioned in the core cases in the first place. What, then, are the discourse characteristics of human referents mentioned in the oblique cases? Do they take on the typical discourse profile of obliques in that they would be likely to be new, unidentifiable and unlikely to be rementioned, or do they still get treated like other human referents so that they would be identifiable, given and further tracked? Are human mentions equally distributed among all the oblique cases? What are their pragmatic and semantic characteristics? What kinds of NPs are used for oblique mentions of humans in discourse?

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The results of this study strongly confirm the centrality of human referents in grammar and discourse, even when they are mentioned in the oblique cases. They still have discourse characteristics that have been found to be typical of humans. They tend to be identifiable, given, and further tracked, that is, continuous topics in discourse. They also tend strongly to be participants in speech events, and are lexically specified as humans. In addition, even the oblique human mentions in my data show features of syntactic prominence in that they are not equally distributed among all the oblique cases but instead cluster in only a few cases, namely those which occur in constructions with grammatical rather than local meaning. In fact, it may well be that frequent mentions of humans in particular local cases have precipitated their process of acquiring more abstract, and grammatical functions instead of purely local meanings. 2.

Data The data for this paper consist of spontaneous conversations in Finnish among co-workers, family members and friends. Two of the conversations were taped and transcribed by myself, while four of them come from corpora developed at the University of Turku and the University of Helsinki. They contained in all 208 oblique case mentions of humans, all of which were entered into Microsoft Access and coded for various grammatical and discourse features. 3.

The category ‘oblique’ As discussed by Nichols (1983), the term oblique was originally used to refer to those cases which were morphologically marked, in contrast to direct cases which bore no such marking, combined with the distinction between case marking due to verbal government (rection) vs. other marking not due to government. Nichols notes that out of these distinctions evolved the mainstream structuralist position that cases can be divided into two sets: core cases, which express more abstract (grammatical) relations, and oblique cases, which express more concrete (semantic, or local) relations. However, this binary division turns out to be problematic when one considers that there may not be any fixed set of criteria for distinguishing between core and oblique NPs crosslinguistically (Thompson 1997). In addition, in languages of the world, oblique cases, like other locative elements, tend to develop more abstract, grammatical meanings (Heine et al. 1991), suggesting significant interaction on the diachronic dimension between the core and oblique categories. Finnish is a case in point: several oblique, originally local cases have developed grammatical meanings, often retaining alongside their new functions their original local meanings (for a summary, see Helasvuo 1997, 2001).

OBLIQUE MENTIONS OF HUMAN REFERENTS

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Thompson (1997) offers a functionalist alternative to the structuralist position and suggests that, like many other key distinctions in language, the core-oblique distinction, seen as a distinction between types of grammatical roles rather than types of case marking, is non-discrete. She also explores the motivations behind the distinction and suggests that it is based on information flow characteristics of referents in discourse. Acknowledging the semantic and cognitive motivations identified by others in the functional literature, she proposes that “the distinction between core and oblique NP arguments can be explained by the fact that the cognitive parameters outlined by Croft (1991b) and DeLancey (1984, 1985) are integrally related to the parameters independently required by an adequately rich theory of information flow. In particular, the ‘initiators’and ‘endpoints’of events are those that humans talk about the most and which they want their listeners to keep track of, or which are centrally involved in events, and are accordingly those to which the grammars of natural languages assign core grammatical roles. … As, Ss, and Os can be predicted to show tendencies towards being Given, Identifiable, and Tracking, while OBLs can be predicted to be rarely Given, Identifiable, and Tracking.”

In this paper, for purposes of coding, I have used both morphological and syntactic criteria to define the concept ‘oblique.’ I have counted as obliques mentions made in the genitive case, the internal local cases (the inessive, elative and illative), the external local cases (adessive, ablative and allative) as well as the general local cases (essive and translative) 1; that is, in cases other than the nominative, the accusative, and the partitive (although I did include those partitives which were complements of adpositions; only one of these occurred in the data). Thus left outside the category, and considered to be core arguments, are As, Ss and Os, as well as predicate nominals and complements of existentials. Thus defined, the oblique human mentions in my data form a set of counterexamples to Thompson’s (1997) predictions discussed above, since they have the information flow characteristics of core arguments rather than those of typical obliques; however, on another level they also confirm Thompson’s findings, since they tend strongly to cluster in just those cases which occur in constructions with grammatical, rather than purely locative or seman-

1

The genitive is included here in the oblique category because complements of many adpositions are genitive, as are adnominal possessors. Also in the genitive case are arguments of verbs of necessity and obligation; these have been called subjects by many analysts (Laitinen 1992). However, if we restrict the category of subject to prototypical ones, NPs which trigger agreement in the verb (as done in Helasvuo 1997, 2001), then genitives cannot be subjects. There were no abessive, instructive or comitative case mentions of humans in my data. The general local case mentions are rare as well: there was only one essive mention and two translatives.

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tic, functions and meanings. 2 In this sense, these findings also lend support to the position that the distinction between core and oblique cases is not binary, but rather non-discrete, given the types of grammaticized constructions in which oblique human mentions occur. 4.

Characteristics of oblique mentions of human referents In this section I discuss the properties of human mentions found in my data. I first present an example to illustrate those properties in a general fashion. Then I discuss the syntactic, pragmatic, and semantic properties of the human obliques. Consider the following example, taken from a multi-party discussion. The participants, a group of women, work at the same pharmacy. The topic in this part of the conversation is a recent all-female party at the summer home of one of the participants. (1) JS:

Mää istus-i yhre lastentarhanopettaja-n ka, 1SG sit-PST+1SG one+GEN kindergarten.teacher-GEN with “I was sitting with a kindergarten teacher, viärekkäin kuule ja, next.to listen+IMP+2SG and next to her you know and, sit mää, then 1SG then I, koit-i häne-lle-ki sano-o try-PST+1SG 3SG-ALL-CLT say-INF tried to say to her also that jua sää vaan drink+IMP+2SG 2SG just you just go ahead and drink

et that

kato look+IMP+2SG

kyl sää se-n kestä-t yes 2SG 3SG-ACC tolerate-2SG I’m sure you can stand

2

By purely locative and semantic functions and meanings I mean those uses of oblique cases which express location, or movement, with regard to some reference point. By grammatical functions and meanings I mean those in which location is not expressed.


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minkä mää-ki kestä-n REL+ACC 1SG-CLT tolerate-1SG what I can stand.” The two boldfaced oblique human mentions in this example illustrate well the common properties of such mentions in my data. They are made in the genitive and the allative, two of the three most frequently occurring cases in the data. Both are tracking mentions, in that they are followed by further mentions of the referent. The referent of hänelleki ‘3SG-ALL also’is both given and identifiable, and a participant in a reported speech act. The other oblique human mention in the example, yhre lastentarhanopettajan ‘a kindergarten teacher-GEN,’ although new, is lexically specified as a human mention. 4.1.

Clustering of human mentions in only a few cases As noted above, human mentions in my data are not equally distributed among all oblique cases. Instead, they cluster in the adessive, allative and genitive cases. NPs in these three cases make up 84% (175/208) of all human obliques in the data, while they made up only 42% of all oblique mentions in Helasvuo 1997, where all oblique mentions, human and non-human, were counted. Table 1 below compares the distribution of human mentions among oblique cases in these data to the distribution of all obliques (non-humans and humans) among different cases as reported in Helasvuo 1997. Case Adessive Allative Genitive Elative Inessive Ablative Other Total

Number of human NPs 80 40 55 15 5 4 9 208

% in these data 39% 19% 26% 7% 2% 2% 4% 100%

in Helasvuo 1997 23% 9% 10% 13% 22% 2% 20% 100%

Table 1: Distribution of human mentions across the oblique cases in my data compared to the distribution of all types of referents (humans and non-humans) in the oblique cases in Helasvuo 1997 Table 1 shows that the distribution of human mentions in the oblique cases is skewed, and does not follow the general pattern of obliques. We see a much more even distribution of oblique mentions among the cases when all mentions, human and non-human alike, are counted, as done by Helasvuo (1997), compared to the clustering of the human mentions in certain cases. The clustering of human mentions in only certain cases reflects the more grammati-

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cal (or grammaticized) uses of those oblique cases in certain types of constructions. The largest number of mentions, 80/208, or 39%, were made in the adessive case. The adessive case has been grammaticized as the case of the possessor in possessive constructions in Finnish (Huumo 1996a, Helasvuo 1997, 2001). Helasvuo notes the important role that human referents have played in this process, in which a locative NP in an existential construction was reanalyzed as a possessive; it is not difficult to see how the fact that the referent of the locative NP was human would lead to such an interpretation of the expression. Example (2) is an example of a possessive construction with an adessive. (2) AL:

Si-l ol-i harmaa 3SG-ADE be-PST+3SG gray “He had gray hair.”

tukka, hair

The ‘literal’or locative meaning of (2) might be ‘On him was gray hair,’but the fact that the referent is human, apart from the formulaic nature of the expression, makes the interpretation of possession, that is, that the hair in question is the hair of the person mentioned in the adessive case, rather than some hair deposited on top of the person, the only one possible 3. The large majority of the adessives in the data, 66 of the total of 80, or 83%, appeared in possessive constructions. Allatives, which were half as frequent as adessives, and the third most frequently used case in the data, code the important thematic role of recipients, or benefactives, the endpoints of events in terms of Croft (1991b) (for a discussion of the use of the allative in the coding of these semantic roles, see Kittilä, this volume). The range of verbs which appear in the data with allative human mentions is larger than with the adessives, but the verb sanoa ‘say’is the most frequent one; it appears seven times in the data (for an example, see (1) above). There are seven other speech act verbs, and two other verbs which imply the transfer of information, opettaa ‘teach’and osoittaa ‘show, demonstrate.’Thus humans as recipients of speech or information represent the largest category of allative mentions in the data at 40% (16/40) (for a general discussion of the use of the local cases in the expression of cognitive events, see Huumo, this volume). The external local case mentions of humans in my data outnumber the internal local case mentions of humans by more than five to one: there were 124 external local case (adessive ‘on’, ablative ‘from’, and allative ‘onto’) mentions, and only 22 internal local case (inessive ‘in’, elative ‘from’, and illative ‘into’) mentions. As can be seen from Table 1, obliques in general are evenly distributed among the two types of local cases; in Helasvuo’s (1997) 3 Adessives can also express instruments, but in this kind of construction the instrumental interpretation is impossible.


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data, which included NPs with both human and non-human referents, 34% of the obliques were in external local cases and 35% were in internal local cases 4. Uneven distribution in these cases seems to be particular to human obliques only. Kotilainen (1999) had a similar finding in his study of human mentions made in the local cases in written Finnish. Kotilainen explores semantic features of the cases and suggests that humans mentioned in the external local cases are more agentive and in general have a more active and controlling role in events than humans mentioned in the internal local cases. Kotilainen exemplifies this with two verbs, syöttää ‘feed,’ which takes an allative human recipient argument, and pistää ‘poke (with a sharp object, such as a needle),’ which takes an illative one. He points out that although both verbs may involve an event where something is inserted by someone else into another person’s body, one has considerably more control over one’s mouth than one’s epidermis (1999:105), and suggests that this difference in control is reflected in the case distinction that the argument of each verb is expressed in. This contrast can also be demonstrated with speech act verbs. Consider the following two examples from my data. (3) R:

(4) MI:

Kysy ask+IMP+2SG “Ask Dad.”

isä-ltä. father-ABL

Myö juur puhu-tt-ii siu-sta, 1PL just speak-PASS-PST 2SG-ELA “We were just talking about you,”

Although both bolded human mentions in (3) and (4) are in separative (‘from’) cases, the addressee (here a ‘source’argument; see Huumo, this volume) of kysyä ‘ask’as in (3), is expressed in the ablative, an external local case, while the theme argument of puhua ‘talk,’as in (4), is in the elative, an internal local case5. An addressee is clearly more centrally involved and at least potentially 4 One might expect that the illative would be a more frequent case in these data because several cognitive verbs such as luottaa ‘trust’and uskoa ‘believe’take illative arguments, but this class of verbs does not occur in my data. Of the three human illatives in my data, only one was the argument of a verb, a use of mennä ‘go (into)’, in an abstract sense of moving into a topic. 5 An elative (internal case, ‘from’) form isästä would be possible in (3); the meaning would change, so that the sentence would mean ‘ask about Dad’; thus the elative would mark the oblique argument as a theme; conversely, an allative (external case ‘onto’) form, sinulle would be possible in (4), again changing the meaning of the sentence, this time into ‘We were just talking to you’, marking the oblique argument as an addressee, this time a ‘goal’. Note that the difference in involvement in the event given these potential uses is consistent with what can be observed in (3) and (4).

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more agentive than the person under discussion. While agentivity and control do not explain all contrasts involved in the use of internal and external local cases for human referents in Finnish, as Kotilainen notes (1999:106), nevertheless the clustering of human mentions in the external cases looks very interesting from this perspective, because it might indicate that even in the local cases, the frequency of distribution of human mentions would be motivated by agentivity and control. The genitive is the second most frequently used case in the data after the adessive. There were 55 genitives, which can be divided into three groups: adnominal possessives, complements of adpositions, and arguments of verbs of obligation. In an interesting way, genitive NPs are neither core arguments nor very good obliques. The adnominal genitive has a semantic motivation of possession or other type of association or adjacency6, so genitives resemble obliques in that they are semantically motivated, but at the same time, the case can be argued to be syntactically motivated by the syntactic relationship between two nominals, which would govern the use of the genitive. Genitives without a head noun are problematic for this argument, however, unless one assumes the head has been elided. There were 19 adnominal genitives in my data. The largest number of genitives, however, were complements of adpositions; the data contained 22 of these. Most of them, 16/22, or 73%, were complements of kanssa ‘with.’These genitives had referents which were fairly centrally involved in events, since they functioned to introduce or remention a co-participant. The first bolded NP in (1) is an example. While complements of adpositions are clearly obliques, their case can be argued to be grammatically motivated as well, as it can be said to be governed by the adposition; see, however, Laury (1999), which argues for a semantic and pragmatic motivation for case assignment on complements of adpositions. The third type of genitive in the data is different from the other two in that its case assignment has to do with its association with a type of verb. Genitive arguments of verbs of obligation and necessity (also called necessive verbs) have been considered subjects, and hence core arguments, by many Finnish grammarians (see Laitinen 1992). Laitinen identifies these genitives as an ergative pattern. In her spoken data from a number of Finnish dialects, the higher an NP is on the animacy hierarchy (Comrie 1981, Silverstein 1976b, 1981), the more likely it is to appear in the genitive, while NPs low on the animacy hierarchy may appear in the nominative even with this class of verbs. Such divisions along the animacy hierarchy are typical of ergative split languages (Silverstein 1976b). Perhaps the most intriguing part of Laitinen’s research are her findings concerning the role of personhood and speech event 6

Susanna Cumming (personal communication) pointed out that the semantic relation between the genitive and its head noun is rather complex, and should not be characterized as being prototypically related to possession. She is, of course, quite right.


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participancy in case assignment with necessive verbs. She suggests that the genitive case in these constructions is an index of participancy in an earlier speech event which has relevancy for the present situation; what is at issue in the expression of modality is the fulfillment or lack of fulfillment of expectations expressed or at least created in the minds of speech participants at some earlier point (1999:263 269). This is especially evident for the verb pitää ‘be supposed to, should,’which was by far the most frequent necessive verb in my data; 11/14 of the verbs of necessity and obligation in my data were forms of pitää, and they occurred in either the past tense, conditional or past conditional, not in the present tense, which would indicate present obligation or necessity. See the next example, which illustrates the way the verb was used in my data. JS is describing travel plans made by a group of her friends which were changed due to inclement weather. (5) JS:

Ja heiän pit-i moottori-l tul-la and 3PL+GEN be.supposed.to-PST+3SG motor-ADE come-INF sit sinne [meiä] uure-l laituri-l [kokoo], then there 1PL+GEN new-ALL pier-ALL together “And they were supposed to come together by motorboat to our new pier,”

EK:

JS:

[Joo]. “Yeah.

[Joo]. Yeah.”

se ol-i iso kalastaja oike semmose-n, 3SG be-PST+3SG big fisherman really such-GEN “It was a big fishing [boat] really like, k on ulkomere-l REL be+PRS+3SG out.sea-ADE that we’ve taken to the open sea,

me käy-ty, 1PL visit-PST+PTCP

ni semmose-n kans pit-i so such-GEN with be.supposed.to-PST+3SG That’s what [they] were supposed to come with.” EK:

Nii, ”That’s right.”

tul-la. come+INF

162 JS:

RITVA LAURY

Mut sit ku rupe-s sata-ma-a but then when begin-PST+3SG rain-INF-ILL “But then when it began to rain they tul-i sit auto-j-en come-PST then car-PL-GEN just came by car.”

kanssa with

ni so

he, 3PL

vaa. only

The bolded mention of JS’s friends in the first line of the example, heiän ‘theyGEN’is a subject-like argument (see above fn. 1) of the verbal complex piti tulla ‘were supposed to come.’The modal piti expresses that the plans to come by boat had been made previously and had been communicated to JS, although, as explained by JS, they were unrealized. Here, the genitive case on the pronoun heiän functions as an index of the role that the friends had in the earlier speech act in which the plans were communicated. Laitinen (1992) shows that human arguments in these constructions are very rarely nominative, and when they are, they do not express involvement in the earlier speech event in which the intentions were communicated or formed. So far, we have seen that oblique mentions of human referents cluster in certain cases, namely those which occur in grammaticized constructions such as the possessive and necessive constructions, where they do not express local or semantic meanings otherwise associated with the oblique cases. They also cluster in the external local cases which express greater agentivity and control than the internal local cases. In addition, we have seen that personhood and participancy in speech events has been a motivating factor in the grammaticalization of the constructions where human mentions frequently occur. These facts show that there is no clear dividing line between the grammatical or ‘core’cases and semantic or ‘oblique’cases; rather, different cases are grammaticized to different degrees, and grammaticalization occurs in particular constructions with a constant semantic and pragmatic import, which cannot be derived from the individual meanings of the lexical and grammatical morphemes involved. For instance, if we look at the originally locative partitive case, which now marks direct objects in Finnish under certain, grammatically definable (although still semantically and pragmatically motivated) conditions, and has only certain very limited, idiomatic local uses, we can see that an originally local case can, over time, be grammaticized into clearly grammatical uses. At the other end of the continuum, we have uses of the local cases which are entirely, concretely semantically motivated, local in their meaning, and thus not grammatically motivated. Standing between these usages are those uses of the local cases which are desemanticized to a certain degree, so that their local meaning is at most metaphorical in nature, and not concretely local, and their use is motivated by the larger, specific construction they occur in, such as the


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possessive construction, rather than the abstract syntactic argument position of the noun phrase itself. The fact that the import of the case assignment is not derivable from the individual lexical and grammatical detail is shown, for example, in the possessive construction, which is identical to the existential construction in all respects except that the referent is human. The possessive relation is thus derivable from the construction as a whole, together with the semantics of the noun phrases. The next section concerns speech act participancy of the oblique human mentions in my data. 4.2.

Human mentions in oblique roles as speech act participants More than half of the oblique human mentions in my data, 57% (119/208), referred to speech act participants either in the current speech situation or in a reported speech act. Most of these, 81 in all, were mentions of participants in the current situation. Of these, 56 were mentions of speakers, 18 were mentions of the addressee(s), and seven were mentions of participants in the current situation who were neither speakers nor addressees for the particular utterance. As one might expect, most of the mentions of participants in the current speech situation were done with speech act pronouns. A typical example is the one below, where a group of men are discussing whether they wear, or even own, a wedding ring. Oblique mentions of speech act participants are bolded. (6) VM:

Ai su-ll ei ole. oh 2SG-ADE NEG be “Oh you don’t have [one]. Ilman-k-s. without-Q-CLT No wonder. Kuule hei. listen+IMP+2SG hey Hey, listen. Ei oo ol-lu NEG be be-PST+PTCP I haven’t had [one] –”

mu-l- -1SG-ADE

RITVA LAURY

164 MI:

Miu-ll ei oo 1SG-ADE NEG be “I never have it,

koskaa ever

si-t, 3SG-PTV

s-

raaski[-na pitä-ä.] be.willing-PST+PTCP wear-INF wanted to wear [it ](because it’s too precious)”7 Although mentions of speech act participants in the first and second person are probably the unmarked choice, and certainly the most frequent practice, such mentions can also be done with third-person forms. Two such mentions in the data referred to addressees. Consider the next example, which involves an interchange between a restaurant customer and a waitress. This excerpt comes from the same conversation as example (6) among a group of men having dinner in a restaurant banquet room. (7) VM:

Mä huomaa-n että rouva-lla on 1SG notice-1SG that madam-ADE be-3SG hyvin vali-tu-t well choose-PASS+PTCP-PL

sana-t word-PL

täällä. here

“I notice m’lady chooses her words carefully here.” TA:

Kuinka niin? how so “What do you mean?”

VM uses a third person form, rouvalla ‘madam-ADE,’to address the waitress; the waitress’s response confirms that she is indeed the addressee of the turn. 7 The syntactic complexities of MI’s turn do not show up fully in the gloss. The first line by itself could be understood and glossed as a possessive construction: ‘I never have it on,’but the second part of the turn shows that it is actually a syntactic blend. The main verb in the last line is raaskia, one of a set of verbs which express different degrees and types of ability, possibility and willingness. This verb implies (un)willingness to do something despite (or due to) the fact that someone or something might be hurt or damaged or otherwise negatively affected. However, it takes a nominative subject, and the first-person pronoun in the first line of the turn is in the allative. The past participle form of raaskia, however, relies on the negated form ei oo ‘haven’t,’which is ambiguous between two interpretations as a copula in a possessive construction or an auxiliary to the past participle form raaskinu. Further, the pronoun sit at the end of the first line of the turn can be interpreted as either the possessed object in the possessive interpretation, or as the object of pitää ‘wear,’but in the free gloss, the English word order does not allow it to be placed preverbally in the ‘wear’interpretation.


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This same word is used with names in a manner equivalent to the English term Mrs., but it can also be used independently to refer politely to a mature woman. Although the ages of the men are given on the transcript, the woman’s exact age is not; she is only characterized as ‘young.’Given this, the excessively polite term customarily used for older women has a teasing undertone. The third person form is thus used here to achieve a particular type of contextual effect (see Laury 2002). Third person forms can also be used for participants in the speech situation who are not addressees8 for the current turn. There were seven such mentions in the data. In the following excerpt from the restaurant conversation, one of the men is discussing future plans pertaining to himself and another participant. (8) UM:

Me men-nään Mela-n kans syö-mä-än. 1PL go-PASS M.-GEN with eat-INF-ILL “Mela and I are going to get something to eat (lit. “We’re going to eat with Mela”) Me tul-laa sit siin vartti-i 1PL come-PASS then there quarter-PTV We’re coming (back) then about a quarter after.”

yli. over

The person referred to as Mela in the first line of the example is a participant in the conversation and has been taking regular turns. However, UM’s announcement about his and Mela’s plans has as its audience the other men, not Mela, who presumably already knows about the plans. Thus Mela is a ‘nonaddressed recipient’(Goodwin 1984) for UM’s turn. The construction in which the oblique mention occurs is one which is frequently used in referring to knowing co-participants in interaction; the initial first person plural includes within its reference the speaker and the person mentioned as the complement of kanssa ‘with’(Seppänen 1996), exclusive of any other participants or nonparticipants. In these constructions as well, then, like on arguments of necessive verbs discussed in the previous section, genitive marking, this time in an adpositional complement, is associated with speech act participancy. In addition to the mentions of participants in the current speech situation, there were also 38 additional mentions of participants in reported (past 8

The concept of ‘addressee’is a more complex and problematic one than is often acknowledged; see, for example, Goodwin (1984), Lerner (1996), and Seppänen (1998) for discussion. I am treating it here as the person or persons to whom an utterance is addressed in the sense that they could respond to it, or in fact do. At the same time, I fully realize the limits of such a definition.

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and future) speech acts. A fourth of these (10/38) involved a double role in both the current and reported speech act, as in the following example. (9) EK:

Hän sano-s mu-lle et kuule, 3SG say-PST+3SG 1SG-ALL that listen-IMP+2SG “She said to me listen, pyys-i oike et et, ask-PST+3SG really that that Really asked me, kui mää noin ruma-sti su-l sano-i-n-kaan. how 1SG so ugly-ADV 2SG-ALL say-PST-2SG-CLT Why did I speak to you in such an ugly way”

In this excerpt, EK is both the current speaker and the reported addressee of a past speech act. The first person form mulle ‘to me’in the first line reflects her role in the current speech situation, but in the quote in the last line, the second person form sul ‘to you,’which also refers to EK, reflects her role as the addressee of the reported speech act. When speech act participancy and case are compared, an interesting pattern emerges. The oblique cases where human mentions cluster are also the cases where the largest proportion of human NPs refer to speech act participants. Consider Table 2 below. Case Adessive Allative Genitive Elative Inessive Ablative Other Total

Total # of mentions 80 40 55 15 5 4 9 208

SAPs 58 29 24 5 0 4 0 119

%age of SAPs 72.5% 72.5% 44% 33% 0% 100% 0% 57%

Table 2: Percentage of speech act participants (SAPs) in different cases Almost three fourths of the adessives and allatives with human referents in my data refer to speech act participants, as do almost half of the genitives, while only a third of the elatives, none of the inessives, and none of the NPs in the other local cases (illative, essive, translative and partitive NPs) refer to speech act participants. Thus 73% of the human NPs in the external local cases


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(91/124) refer to speech act participants, while only 31% (9/29) of the NPs in the internal and general local cases do. In other words, the NPs in local cases with grammaticized functions and with meanings that reflect a great degree of agentivity and control are more likely to refer to speech act participants than NPs in cases without such functions and meanings. If the genitive category is taken apart, a similar picture emerges. 57% (8/14) of the genitive subjects of necessive verbs referred to speech act participants in either the current speech situation or in a reported speech situation9, while only 41% (9/22) of prepositional complements and 32% (6/19) of adnominal genitives did. Again, we see that oblique NPs in constructions with grammaticized functions are more likely to refer to speech act participants than other obliques. 4.3.

Information flow features of human obliques The information flow features of human mentions in the oblique cases resemble those of core arguments rather than other obliques in that they are very likely to be identifiable, given and tracking. Identifiable NPs are ones whose referent the speaker assumes the addressee can identify, while unidentifiable NPs are ones whose referent the speaker assumes the addressee cannot identify. The linguistic correlate of identifiability is definiteness: definite NPs are used for identifiable referents, and indefinite NPs for unidentifiable referents. Givenness, on the other hand, has to do with the addressee’s assumed state of consciousness rather than his state of knowledge: given referents are those which the speaker assumes the addressee is already conscious of, while new referents are ones the speaker assumes the addressee is not conscious of before they are mentioned. Given referents are generally, though not always, expressed with pronouns and other minimal forms, while speakers mostly use full, lexical noun phrases to mention new referents. Tracking NPs are ones whose function it is to introduce and track referents in discourse; non-tracking NPs have other functions such as predication and classification. For more detailed discussions of categories of information flow, see Chafe (1976, 1987, 1994), Du Bois (1980), and Thompson (1997). In this paper, I have considered those NPs given whose referents were mentioned previously in the discourse, and I have considered those NPs tracking which were mentioned subsequently in the discourse. Thus my coding for these two information flow features was slightly different from Thompson’s (1997) study, but it was similar to the one used by Helasvuo (1997). Thus my results are also more comparable to Helasvuo’s results than they are to Thompson’s results. 9 My count is conservative. As mentioned above, the genitive marking on subject-like arguments of necessive verbs is itself a marker of speech act participancy. However, it is a covert category. My count was based on overtly expressed or actual speech act participancy in the current or reported situation.

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168

Nearly all of the oblique human NPs in the data had identifiable referents. Out of the 208, only eleven were unidentifiable to the addressee, and for another seven of the NPs, identifiability was not relevant because the NPs were non-referential. This means that 91% of the oblique human mentions in my data were identifiable. No clear pattern of distribution among the different cases emerged, except that 100% of the adessives had identifiable referents. Otherwise the un-identifiable mentions were evenly scattered among the cases. In this respect, the obliques in my data resemble the core arguments in Thompson’s (1997) study, in which 95% of the As, 90% of the Ss and 87% of the Os were identifiable, while only 58% of the obliques were. The oblique human referents in my data are more likely to be given and tracking than referents of oblique NPs in general. While only 57% of all obliques in Helasvuo’s (1997) data were given, 78% (162/208) of the obliques in my data were. Out of the obliques in Thompson’s (1997) study, only 35% were given, while 89% of the NPs in the A role, and 65% of the NPs in the O and S roles were given. Thus the NPs in my data resemble the core arguments in Thompson’s data more than they resemble the obliques in either Thompson’s or Helasvuo’s study with respect to givenness. As can be seen in Table 3 below, the adessive, allative and ablative mentions were most likely to be given, followed by the elatives. Genitives and all the other oblique case mentions were slightly less likely to be given. Case Adessive Allative Genitive Elative Ablative Other Total

Given NPs 74 33 34 12 3 6 162

Total NPs 80 40 55 15 4 14 208

% of given NPs 93% 83% 64% 80% 75% 43% 78%

Table 3: Givenness Regardless of case, the human obliques in my data were highly likely to be tracking mentions. 176 of the 208, or 85%, were tracking, while only 25% of all obliques in Helasvuo (1997) and 26% of the obliques in Thompson (1997) were. In Thompson’s data, 98% of the As, 90% of the Ss and 83% of the Os served to track referents in discourse. These percentages are very similar to the percentages in my data. Table 4 below shows a breakdown of tracking NPs according to case. Genitives have the lowest proportion of tracking mentions, but even that figure, 73%, is far above the figure for tracking mentions for all obliques found in the other studies.


Case Adessive Allative Genitive Elative Ablative Other Total

Tracking NPs 72 37 39 12 4 12 176

All NPs 80 40 55 15 4 14 208

169

% of tracking NPs 90% 93% 71% 80% 100% 92% 85%

Table 4: Tracking mentions In this section we have seen that human mentions in the oblique cases have discourse profiles very unlike those attributed to typical obliques in earlier studies. They tend strongly to be identifiable, given and further tracked in discourse, and thus resemble core arguments more than typical obliques. 4.4.

Lexical form of oblique mentions of humans References to humans made in oblique cases are coded in ways that mark them as specifically human; hence the forms used for mentions of human referents in these data cluster at the top of the animacy hierarchy (Silverstein 1976b; Dixon 1979). Most of the mentions of humans in my data are done with pronouns. There were 140 pronominal mentions, accounting for 67% of the total number of mentions. Of these, 134 were personal pronouns; in addition, there were 6 uses of other pronouns (such as demonstratives and indefinite pronouns). This can be connected to two other features observed in the data: most of the mentions of humans in my data were given, and more than half referred to speech act participants, as already discussed. In fact, speech act pronouns dominate in the data. There were 69 firstperson pronouns and 20 second-person pronouns10. In addition, out of the 48 third-person pronouns in the data, 23, almost half, were uses of hän/he, which have traditionally been considered specifically human. However, more recent studies have shown that these are logophoric pronouns, used to refer to the speaker within (indirect) reported speech, as shown in the following example.

10 The number of first- and second-person pronouns does not correspond in a direct way to the figures accounting for speech act participancy presented in the previous section. This is because first- and second-person pronouns do not necessarily refer to speakers in the current, or even reported speech situation. For example, the first-person plural pronoun me ‘we’is sometimes used for large groups of people, and in the oblique cases, for places where they live. In the data, meillä ‘we-ADE’was used in ways almost equivalent to ‘in Finland’. Further, lexical nouns, as shown here, can also be used to refer to speech act participants.

RITVA LAURY

170 (10) EL:

Si-tä Steffan koko aja selitt-i-ki et, 3SG-PTV S. whole time+ACC explain-PST+3SG-CLT that “That’s what Steffan was saying the whole time, show-PASS+PST+PTCP

The bolded hänelle ‘to him’in the last line of the example, as well as the nominative form of the same pronoun in the second line, refer to Steffan, the purported speaker of the quote. Most Finnish dialects use this pronoun in just this way, to index speech act participancy (although some dialects, such as the dialect spoken in Turku where some of the data come from, use it more widely). If the 23 uses of hän are included in speech act pronouns, then 112 of the oblique mentions of humans in my data, just over half (54%), were done with speech act pronouns. Most lexical mentions of humans in oblique cases also specify them as humans. Of the 68 lexical mentions in these data, 30 were proper names and eleven were kinterms. Of the 27 remaining common nouns, eight were occupational titles and almost all of the rest were also ones which could only be used to refer to humans such as lapsi ‘child’, mies ‘man’, muija ‘woman, old woman, wife’. Out of the common nouns, only five were nouns that could be used to refer to non-human referents, three of them uses of the noun ryhmä ‘group’, one use of ruotsalaiset ‘Swedes’and suomalaiset ‘Finns’. Altogether 175 of the 208 oblique human mentions, then, were done with forms that could only be used to refer to humans. Placed on Silverstein’s (1976b) animacy hierarchy, the forms used cluster at the left, more animate end of the scale, as can be seen below. 1st/2nd p.pro 89

< 3rd p.pro 48

< pn 30

< kinterm 11

< human cn 24

< animate cn

< inan.cn 5

Table 5: Animacy hierarchy (Silverstein 1976b) and forms used


5.

171

Conclusion This study of oblique human mentions in spoken discourse has revealed that their referents share the characteristic saliency and prominence that has been noted to be typical of human referents mentioned in the core cases. In terms of their information flow features, human obliques resemble core arguments more than typical obliques in that they are predominantly identifiable, given, and tracking. However, they are not equally distributed among all the oblique cases. Instead, they cluster in only a few of the oblique cases, namely those that have grammaticized uses and those that are semantically associated with agency and control. The results of the study confirm Thompson’s (1997) hypothesis that the core-oblique distinction is a continuum, not a binary division. Although the NPs studied here are not core arguments, they nevertheless appear mostly in constructions which have grammatical (core-type), and not semantic or local (oblique-type) meanings and functions, that is, they resemble core arguments in terms of their grammatical function. In fact, as seen above, the use of human mentions in the oblique cases has been noted to have contributed to the grammaticalization of obliques into purely grammatical functions. As noted, the oblique human mentions in these data also very clearly have the information flow features of core arguments. In view of the fact that they also appear in constructions with grammaticalized, that is, core-like functions, we can see that Thompson’s (1997) suggestion that information flow features are the motivating force behind the core-oblique division is also strongly supported by the results of this study. We have also seen that speech act participancy is a central feature of human referents that are mentioned in the oblique roles. This is manifested on both the syntactic and the lexical level. Two constructions which involve oblique mentions of humans express participancy in speech events, namely the allative (allative human mentions tend strongly to be recipients of talk, that is, addressees in speech events) and the genitive arguments of necessive verbs (the genitive marking is an index of participancy in an earlier speech act). In addition, the cases in which human oblique mentions were most likely to occur were also the most likely ones to code speech act participants. Finally, the majority of the oblique mentions of humans were made with speech act pronouns. Being a participant in communication with other humans is a central feature of humans in grammar and discourse.

PERSON IN FINNISH PARADIGMATIC AND SYNTAGMATIC RELATIONS IN INTERACTION

MARJA-LIISA HELASVUO AND LEA LAITINEN University of Turku and University of Helsinki

1.

Introduction The category of person is expressed in three coding systems in Finnish, namely personal pronouns, verbal person marking, and possessive suffixes. In this article, we explore the two first mentioned systems.1 In a discussion of the verbal person marking system in their descriptive grammar of Finnish, Sulkala and Karjalainen (1992:332) state, “Person, and with it number, are coded in the verb from the subject: three persons in the singular and plural and the passive form.” They illustrate the system as in Table 1 below. Active:

Passive:

singular 1. (minä) 2. (sinä) 3. (hän) plural 1. (me) 2. (te) 3. (he)

‘go’ menen menet menee

‘take’ otan otat ottaa

‘eat’ syön syöt syö

menemme menette menevät mennään

otamme otatte ottavat otetaan

syömme syötte syövät syödään

Table 1: Verbal person marking according to Sulkala and Karjalainen (1992:332) In Table 1 personal pronouns are given in parentheses (minä ‘I’, sinä ‘you’, hän ‘he/she’in the singular; me ‘we’, te ‘you (pl.)’, and he ‘they’in the

1 We are grateful to Lyle Campbell, Ritva Laury and Maria Vilkuna for insightful comments and criticisms on this paper.

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plural) to show that they are optional, 2 and person can be expressed through the person marking on the verb alone (the personal suffixes are given in bold face). In Standard Finnish, the preferred alternative is to suppress the pronoun with only the person marking on the verb to express person and number. In contrast, in colloquial varieties it is more common for both the pronoun and the person marking on the verb to occur. In certain contexts, however, it is quite common to omit the pronoun, inter alia in answers to yes-no questions (oot sä käyny siellä [be-2SG you visit-PTCP there] ‘have you visited there’— oon [be-1SG] ‘(I) have’). As Table 1 shows, Sulkala and Karjalainen (1992) include the passive in the verbal person marking system, but they do not specify its role in the system. In the passive, there is no subject in Finnish, and hence, no subject agreement in the verb, but there is a special person marking on the verb in the morphotactic slot for personal markers (-An, see Table 1 and below for more discussion). In Finnish, no other argument assumes the role of subject in the passive. In the literature, it has been customary to call such passives impersonal, as opposed to personal passives where the object of an active predication assumes the subject role in the passive (see e.g. Comrie 1977, Vilkuna 1996:144). Vilkuna (1996:144) notes that the term impersonal is paradoxical in reference to the Finnish passive because the passive implies a personal agent (left unspecified) behind the action expressed by the verb (in Vilkuna’s terms, it implies a person reference for the first argument of the verb). (For more discussion, see Helasvuo, this volume). In active clauses, the predicate verb agrees with the subject in person and in number. Because the verb shows the person agreement with the subject, the nominal and the verbal person marking systems have usually not been discussed separately in Finnish linguistics (see e.g. Sulkala & Karjalainen 1992, Hakulinen & Karlsson 1979). We will show, however, that in colloquial varieties the coding of person is more complicated: the verbal and nominal person marking systems intersect, but not in the straight-forward manner suggested in traditional Finnish linguistics. The connections between the two form an intricate network: we demonstrate here that the verbal person marking is not copied from the subject pronoun in a mechanical way, nor is the personal pronoun redundant. For the purposes of this paper we therefore find it useful to present the nominal and verbal person marking systems as two paradigmatic systems. This is especially useful since we wish to provide an account of the person marking system not only in the standard but also in the non-standard varieties. On the syntagmatic level, it is possible to leave out the personal pronoun; in such instances, the marking of the verb conveys the personal reference. This phenomenon has been discussed in the literature under the heading “pro-drop”. We show that certain structures require both the pronoun and the verbal person 2 Actually, 1st and 2nd person pronouns are more optional than are 3rd person pronouns; cf. Section 2.2.

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marking, whereas in others it is not possible to have the personal pronoun. This is discussed in Section 2. We then go on to explore how the two systems intersect on the syntagmatic level. In Section 3 we discuss person marking in the light of the hierarchy of “inherent lexical content” developed by Silverstein (1976b, 1981). We will show that personal pronouns show a clear nominative–accusative system in case marking whereas lexical nouns are closer to a neutral alignment system. Thus, the case marking patterns are in accordance with the Silversteinian hierarchy of person. This is especially clear in the marking of the core arguments in modal constructions expressing “necessity”(that is, obligation; the so-called NEC constructions). We also discuss the marking of logophoric pronouns and the ways in which it manifests the hierarchy of person. In his discussion on the function of agreement, Lehmann (1988) emphasizes that agreement is indeed referential in nature. According to Lehmann (1988:55), agreement helps identify or reidentify referents. In typology textbooks, it has been customary to speak of cross-referencing morphology (see e.g. Croft 1991b). We show, however, that this is somewhat problematic in reference to the coding of person in Finnish and furthermore, to person agreement in general. This is discussed more closely in Section 4. We show that in the person system of Finnish there are two forms, namely the so-called zero person and the passive, which regularly create open reference (see below, and Laitinen, this volume, and Helasvuo, this volume). We further show (in Section 4) that there are systematic ways of using personal forms to create open reference (cf., inter alia, the use of the second person form for generic reference in English). We demonstrate that this is a feature that applies to all persons at least in Finnish, but we allude to parallels in other languages, as well (for an overview of the grammatical category of person in a cross-linguistic perspective, see Siewierska 2004). In these cases, the interpretation of the personal form as open or as indexing for example a speech act participant (e.g. the addressee) is constrained by the context, and has to be construed from the context. Analyzing examples from natural discourse, we show how reference is constructed in an interactive process by the participants both with the help of personal pronouns and with agreement morphology. Thus, rather than identifying or reidentifying referents, agreement functions as a resource, useful to the participants for construing reference. 2.

The verbal and nominal person marking systems in Finnish In this section we discuss the verbal and nominal person marking systems in Finnish. In standard Finnish, the syntactic function of verbal person marking is to express the person (1st, 2nd and 3rd) and number (singular vs. plural) of the subject. We could thus say that the verbal person marking indexes the subject. The passive is different in this respect, since there is no subject.

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The person marking in the passive3 could be said to index a human agent (see Helasvuo, this volume, for more discussion). We show that the verbal person marking system is different in colloquial varieties from that of the standard language. We also discuss the nominal system for coding person and try to explicate the special role that the so-called zero person has in the system. 2.1.

Two paradigms Tables 2 and 3 illustrate the verbal person marking systems in standard Finnish vs. in the colloquial language. The verb istua ‘sit’ is given as an example. Person 1. 2. 3. “4.”(passive)

Singular Plural -n (istun) -mme (istumme) -t (istut) -tte (istutte) -V (istuu) -vat (istuvat) -Vn (istutaan)

Table 2: Verbal person marking (Standard Finnish)

Person 1. 2. 3. “4.”(passive)

Singular Plural -n (istun) -Vn (istutaan) -t (istut) -tte (istutte) -V (istuu) -Vn (istutaan)

Table 3: Verbal person marking (colloquial Finnish) Comparing Tables 2 and 3, we see that Standard Finnish differs from the colloquial language in certain respects. Most notably, it is quite rare in the colloquial language to express a number distinction in the 3rd person; instead, the verb is in the 3rd person singular both with singular and plural subjects. In earlier literature in Finnish linguistics it has been maintained that the passive is an impersonal verb form.4 However, modern textbooks instead discuss it as a member of the person system (see e.g. Hakulinen and Karlsson 1979:255). In relation to the other persons, the passive has been described as the “4th person”(Tuomikoski 1971) to indicate that it is not a 1st, 2nd or 3rd person form. It is not possible to express the morphological distinction between singular and plural in the passive; syntagmatically, however, the passive often

3 4

Here we refer to what Helasvuo (this volume) calls the simple passive. Setälä (1883:101–102) uses the term persoonaton muoto, literally ‘personless form’.

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combines with plural forms for example in predicate adjective clauses (e.g. Ollaan valmiita [be-PASS ready-PL-PTV] ‘we are ready’, ‘let’s be ready’). Table 3 shows that the passive form is used in the colloquial language st with 1 person plural reference (in combination with the 1st person plural pronoun). In present-day Finnish, the passive form has largely replaced the 1st person plural verb forms in 1 st person plural contexts in the colloquial language (see example 1). (1) (Pertilä 2000:121) mee jouru-tt-i-in kaikki PRO1PL have.to-PASS-PST-PERS all “We all had to leave.”

pois. away

In Finnish dialects, the use of the passive form in connection with different subjects is even more varied (see Nirvi 1947); in certain dialects, the passive is used in connection with 3rd person plural pronominal subjects (example 2): (2) (Pertilä 2000:133) ne jouvu-th-i-n toise-lle puolej PRO3PL have.to-PASS-PST-PERS other-ADE side “They had to go to the other side of the lake.”

järviä. lake-PTV

Or even with plural lexical subjects (example 3, line 3): (3) (Pertilä 2000:132) met men-th-i-n talhon, PRO1PL go-PASS-PST-PERS house+ILL “We went to the house, isäntä ja emäntä syö-th-i-n, host and hostess eat-PASS-PST-PERS the host and hostess ate, tyttäre-t ja pija-t tiska-th-i-n daughter-PL and maid-PL do.dishes-PASS-PST-PERS the daughters and maids washed the dishes.” Example (1) and line 1 of example (3) illustrate the use of the passive form in connection with 1st person plural subject, example (2) shows it with a 3rd person plural pronominal subject, and in lines 2 and 3 of example (3) the passive is used with plural lexical subjects. 5 Examples (1–3) show how the 5 Note that in examples (1–3), the reference of the subject is specific. Therefore, these examples do not represent the “impersonal”, non-specific interpretation of personal pronouns.

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nominal and verbal systems of coding person intersect in interesting ways. It is noteworthy, however, that if the nominal and verbal person markings do not express the same person, it is the nominal marking that wins: the interpretation of the personal reference is based on the person expressed by the nominal element, not the person marking on the verb. Table 4 shows the nominal person marking system. Examples are given of nominative pronominal forms of the various persons. The verb forms with which the pronouns combine are given in parentheses. Person 1. 2. 3. ”Zero”

Singular minä (+ VSG1) sinä (+ VSG2) hän (+ V3) Ø (+ V3)

Plural me (+ VPL1/PASS) te (+ VPL2) he (+ V3)

Table 4: Nominal person marking system: the nominative. As was mentioned in the introduction, personal pronouns in Finnish exhibit a nominative–accusative coding system. In this system, the nominative form of the personal pronoun signals that the pronoun functions as a subject. Personal pronouns functioning as objects are always marked with either the accusative or the partitive case. For other pronouns and lexical nouns, the nominative does not necessarily function as a subject marking case, since even objects can be marked with the nominative if there is no subject in the clause (for example, Osta auto [buy+IMP+2SG car+NOM] ‘Buy a car!’). In this way, the nominative functions somewhat like an absolutive in the marking of lexical nouns and pronouns other than the personal ones (for more discussion, see Helasvuo 2001). Table 4 places the so-called zero person in the paradigm of personal pronouns. It has no overt nominal expression, and thus no real paradigmatic form, but instead it is realized in syntagms with the 3rd person singular verb form alone. Example (4) illustrates this. (4) (Laitinen 1995a) Jos lenno-n osta-a hyvissä ajoin etukäteen, if flight-ACC buy-3SG well in.time in.advance “If you buy your flight well in advance, voi saa-da paremma-n may+3SG get-INF better-ACC you can get a better bargain.”

alennukse-n. bargain-ACC

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In example (4) there is an if-then compound construction with two 3rd person singular verb forms ostaa ‘buy’and voi ‘may’. They have been translated into English with 2nd person singular forms (or by impersonal ‘one’), but it is important to note that there is no overt subject in the Finnish counterparts. Instead there is a zero subject. Evidence for the reality of the zero is given by the fact that in the clauses in example (4) the object is marked with the accusative and not with the nominative as would be the case in a subjectless clause. The meaning of the zero subject has been described as generic in Finnish grammars (very similar to the interpretation of the 2nd person forms in the English translation). Laitinen (1995a and this volume) argues that it would be better to describe it as open for construal in the ongoing speech event. 2.2.

Pronominal vs. zero subjects — syntagmatic perspectives In Finnish, it is possible to leave out the pronominal subject, with only the verbal person marking to convey the personal reference. This phenomenon has been discussed under the heading “pro-drop”(regarding pro-drop in Finnish, see Heinonen 1995). Since the 19th century leaving out the 1st and 2nd person pronouns has been preferred in the standard language because, especially in the case of the first person, the use of pronouns in addition to the verbal person marking was considered as redundant and even as overemphasis (Strellman 2005). In the spoken language, however, the subject pronoun is most often present and its absence is clearly meaningful. Examples (5–7) illustrate utterances with 1st and 2nd person zero subjects. First, in answers to yes-no questions, the subject is usually left out as in example (5) in line 3: (5) (from the Corpus of Conversation) 1 Elena: sä ol-i-t mennyp puhu-u. PRO2SG be-PST-2SG gone talk-INF+ILL “You had gone to tell, 2

=ole-k sä mennyp puhu-u reh-, reksi-lle. be+2SG-Q PRO2SG gone talk-INF+ILL headmaster-ALL did you go to tell to the headmaster?”

3 Aino: joo joo. men-i-n. yeah yeah go-PST-1SG “Sure, I did.” In example (5), Aino admits to Elena that she has told the headmaster something that had to be kept secret. Using the first person pronoun (mä, i.e. mä menin ‘I went’) would have been a marked choice in such an answer (line 3).

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In example (6) line 5, there is a 2 nd person singular verb form (in the present tense, indicative mood) with no separate subject pronoun. The omission of the 2nd person singular subject pronoun enforces the interpretation of the utterance as a directive (even though it is not in the imperative mood), not for example as a statement: (6) (from the Corpus of Conversation) 1 Aino: sä ol-i-t, myähä-s myähä-s mh [hh PRO2SG be-PST-2SG late-INE late-INE “You were late, late, er” 2 Elena:

[oleh be+IMP+2SG hilja-a nyt. quiet-PTV now “Shut up now!

3

kuuntele. listen+IMP+2SG Listen,

4

m- se ol-i kauhee-v vihane että, PRO3SG be-PST+3SG terrible-GEN angry that er, she (mother) was terribly angry like:

5

@ nyt mee-t kyllä koulu-u@ tais sillee että-, now go-2SG sure school-ILL or so that Now you really must go to school, or like:

6

@taas-ko sä oo-t@, tai = again-Q PRO2SG be-2SG or Have you again -, or- - ”

As illustrated by this example, the singular second person subject pronoun sä is used in descriptive comments (line 1) or questions (line 6), whereas in directives (including imperatives; lines 2 and 3) it is omitted. The omission of the subject pronoun in imperatives is of course very common across languages, including strictly non-pro-drop languages like English. Indeed, the omission of subjects is common in specific interactional contexts. However, it has special functions in monologues as well, as in the following:

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(7) (Liksom 1995:7)6 1

Mie ole-n ollu sotaväe-n jälkheen työttömä-nä, PRO1SG be-1SG been army-GEN after unemployed-ESS “I have been unemployed after the army,

2

ei-hän täällä ole mi-thään NEG-CL here be any-PTV there aren’t any jobs here

3

Käy-n kahesti kuu-ssa leimautta-ma-ssa go-1SG twice month-INE stamp-INF-INE

homm-i-a. [- -] job-PL-PTV

posti-auto-la kirko-la, post-car-ADE church-ADE (I) go to sign twice a month in the mail car to the village, 4

juo-n baari-n puole-la muutama-n kalja-n drink-1SG bar-GEN side-ADE some-ACC beer-ACC (I) drink a few beers at the bar,

5

ja anna-n emännä-lle lopu-t. and give-1SG landlady-ALL rest-PL and (I) give the rest (of the money) to the landlady.”

In example (7), 1st person subject (mie) is used in line 1 (mie olen ollu ‘I have been’). After that, an illustration of the situation of being unemployed is performed in lines 3 5 in the form of a three-part list: käyn - -, juon - - ja annan - (‘I go - -, I drink - -, and I give - -’), but here the independent co-referential subject pronoun is missing. We now turn to third person subjects. As was mentioned in Section 2.1., the verb is often in the 3rd person singular form both with singular and plural subjects. Furthermore, G. Karlsson (1966) has shown that in the regional dialects the plural verb form serves as an anaphoric reference form in narrative. Our next example (8) illustrates such contexts of use: the lexical subject and the verbal plural suffix (-vat or -vät) have complementary distribution.

6 This example is an extract from a short story written in Northern Finnish dialect by Rosa Liksom, a Finnish author who makes use of different language varieties — including various regional dialects — in her writing. Cf. ex. (11), also by Liksom, where she uses a more standard written variety with no regional elements.

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(8) (Latvala 1895:8–9) 1 Kyllä ne ostokse-s on, sure PRO3PL shopping-INE be+3SG “Surely they are shopping 2

koska kuulu-vat jo mettumaari-n aika-an because be.heard-3PL already Midsummer-GEN time-ILL because they are reported already by Midsummer time

3

ol-lee-n ostoks-es. be-PTCP-ACC shopping-INE to have been shopping.”

In line 1, the subject is a 3rd person plural pronoun (ne), and the verb is in the 3rd person singular form (on). In line 2 instead, the same persons are being referred to with the 3rd person plural form of the verb only; there is no separate subject pronoun. The use of the plural verb form makes the co-referentiality with the pronominal antecedent explicit. Generally, the third person subject can be left out in similar contexts as the speech-act person pronouns in examples (5 7) above, which is illustrated in examples (9 11). (9) (Heinonen 1995:53 55; glossing and translation slightly modified) Sano emännä-lle, että hake-e ruusu-t kellari-sta say+IMP+2SG lady-ALL that fetch-3SG roses-NOM cellar-ELA “Tell the lady of the house to get the roses from the cellar.” (10) (Heinonen 1995:53 55) A: On-ks ne jo tullut? be+3SG-Q PRO3PL already come “Have they come already?” B:

On. be+3SG “Yes, they have.”

In example (9), a singular 3rd person subject (se or hän ‘s/he’) is lacking in a reported directive;7 here, it is precisely the omission of the subject pronoun that enforces the interpretation of the utterance as a directive (cf. above ex. 6). In (10) the plural 3rd person subject (ne ‘they’) is left out in an answer to a yes-no question. As Heinonen notes, the third person subject can also be omitted, for 7

In contrast to Heinonen, we do not see this usage as old-fashioned.

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instance, in diaries and letters, that is, in informal writing. However, the contexts of this usage are actually more general than Heinonen suggests. The home environment for this phenomenon is narrative, both in the spoken language and in fictional prose, for instance in short stories and novels as in (11): (11) (Liksom 1995:109) 1

Sisko maalas-i ikkunankarmi-t must-i-ksi sister paint-PST+3SG window.frame-PL black-PL-TRA öljyise-llä iso-lla oily-ADE big-ADE

pensseli-llä. brush-ADE

“Sister painted the window frames black with a big oily brush. 2

Tuhras-i kokonaise-n viiko-n suti käde-ssä smear-PST+3SG whole-ACC week-ACC brush hand-INE (She) smeared a whole week with a brush in her hand

3

ja maali-a pirskoil-i ovenpiel-iin - -. and paint-PTV splash-PST+3SG doorpost-PL+ILL and paint splashed on the doorposts.”

In line 1, the subject is expressed with a full NP sisko ‘sister’, whereas in the clause in line 2, there is no lexical subject. It illustrates the activity mentioned in line 1 in more detail. In addition to this, it conveys a slight implication of complaint, irony or wonder: in this way — so badly — did the sister do the painting. The anaphoric 3rd person zero subject can also be found in old folktales. In sum, anaphoric zero subjects referring to the main character can be used in narrative after having been introduced with a lexical NP. They describe in more detail the activity of the main character that the speaker has already started to tell about. This convention does not belong to non-fiction prose written in Standard Finnish. We have shown that the presence or absence of the subject pronoun is not mechanical, but entails a meaningful choice that is constrained by context. 3.

The hierarchy of person in Finnish In this subsection, the category of person is considered against the cross-linguistic study of Silverstein (1976b) on the intersection of dimensions of referential space and the grammatical properties of noun phrase categories. On the basis of grammatical coding of the NP types as core arguments by case marking or agreement patterns, the referential space is organized in the form of

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a hierarchical cline that also has an indexical interpretation (see Silverstein 1981, 1987b). In Finnish, the referential NP types can be arranged according to their grammatical patterning as a cline. This cline is roughly illustrated in Figure 1 below. We will show that especially in non-standard Finnish, the concept of person is intertwined with the indexical dimension of the NP categories, i.e. their status as potential speech act participants.

personal pronouns (1–3) > other animate NPs and pronouns > inanimate NPs most indexical referential NPs ------------------------ almost pure referential NPs

Figure 1: Hierarchy of person in Finnish. At the left end of Figure 1, all personal pronouns including the third persons hän ‘s/he’and he ‘they’behave grammatically alike. As shown below, they also are the most indexical NP types, all referring to speech-act participants. In the middle area of the cline outlined in Figure 1 are the other pronouns and full NPs that refer to personal, individual and intentional entities, both human beings and higher animals. The right end of the cline belongs to the full NPs referring to lower animals, vegetables, inanimate or abstract entities. These are the least indexical NP types on the scale. We will outline shortly how the cline is manifested in case marking, especially in the coding of NPs in the core roles. Then we discuss case marking patterns in one particular construction type, namely in constructions expressing necessity (NEC constructions). We show that in this construction type case marking is used to indicate the indexical status of speech act participants. We also discuss the coding of logophoricity. 3.1.

Case marking and the hierarchy of person Finnish exhibits a complex case marking system with 12–15 cases.8 Here we will focus on the so-called grammatical cases, i.e. cases that are used to mark NPs in the core grammatical roles (subject, object, predicate nominal/adjective; for a discussion of the local cases, see Huumo and Ojutkangas, this volume). The case alternation in the marking of the core roles is quite complex in Finnish, and it has been discussed extensively in the literature (see e.g. Itkonen 1979, Heinämäki 1983, 1994, Laitinen & Vilkuna 1993). The case marking shows an interesting split pattern that is in accordance with the hierarchy of person presented by Silverstein (1976b, 1981; for a more detailed discussion of the split pattern in Finnish, see Helasvuo 2001:36–57, and Helasvuo 2003). 8 The exact number depends on whether some marginal and less productive cases are taken into account (for discussion, see Helasvuo 2001:37, fn. 4).

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Silverstein’s hierarchy was designed to account for split patterns in ergative languages. In the hierarchy, personal pronouns referring to speech act participants rank highest. They are followed by third person pronouns, nouns that refer to humans, animates, and inanimates. (Silverstein 1976b:122.) If there is a split in an ergative coding system, the hierarchy is supposed to predict the nature of the split. Those elements that rank highest in the hierarchy are most likely to receive nominative-accusative coding, whereas referents at the lower end of the hierarchy are more likely to receive ergative coding. Although Finnish is not an ergative language, Silverstein’s hierarchy can be used to explain case marking patterns of NPs in the core roles in Finnish. Helasvuo (2001:94–96) shows that Finnish exhibits a split between explicit and variable coding that is in accordance with Silverstein’s person hierarchy. In terms of case marking, agreement and word order, personal pronouns exhibit a clear nominative-accusative system, whereas the coding of full NPs in Finnish is close to a neutral coding system. Here we discuss only case marking patterns. For personal pronouns in Finnish, the marking of the core roles follows a canonical nominative-accusative coding system where the subject is always in the nominative (unmarked) and the object is marked either with the accusative or the partitive (example 12). (12) (Helasvuo 2001:43) jos sää vo-isi-t se-n teh-dä, if PRO2SG can-COND-2SG it-ACC do-INF “if you could do that, niin mä o-isi-n then PRO1SG be-COND-1SG then I would be real glad.”

tosi real

ilone. glad

In example (12), the 2nd person pronoun sää ‘you’is in the nominative and functions as subject. The 3rd person pronoun se ‘it’stands in the accusative and functions as the object. In the latter clause the 1 st person pronoun mä ‘I’, in the nominative, functions as the subject. Table 5 illustrates case marking in the core roles for personal pronouns. 9

9 Personal pronouns have a special accusative ending -t which was adopted into standard Finnish from the eastern dialects during the 19th century. In the western dialects, personal pronouns have the same accusative ending as other pronouns and full NPs, namely -n (minu-n ‘me’, häne-n ‘him/her’etc.).

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Subject nominative

Object accusative or partitive

Table 5: Case marking in the core roles. Personal pronouns. (Helasvuo 2001:43.) The case marking patterns of singular full NPs and of other singular pronouns are different from those of personal pronouns (see Table 6).

Subject nominative (no subject)

Singular Object accusative or partitive nominative or partitive

Table 6: Case marking in the core roles. Singular full NPs and other singular pronouns. (Helasvuo 2001:44.) As Table 6 shows, the nominative is no longer exclusively a subject marking case, because not only subjects, but also some objects can stand in the nominative. If there is no nominative subject in the clause, and therefore, no need to distinguish the object from the subject, the object can stand in the nominative. Example (13) illustrates object marking in a clause without a nominative subject. (13) (Helasvuo 2001:43) pudote-tt-i-in niin helveti-n upee kuvasto. drop-PASS-PST-PERS so damn-GEN magnificent catalog “They dropped a damn beautiful catalog.”(Lit. “was dropped a damn beautiful catalog”) Example (13) is a passive clause. In Finnish, there is no subject in the passive (for discussion, see Helasvuo, this volume). In (13), the object NP helvetin upee kuvasto ‘a damn beautiful catalog’stands in the nominative.10 Thus, the marking of other pronouns and singular full NPs does not follow a canonical nominative-accusative pattern in which the nominative functions to mark the subject. Instead, the nominative is more like an absolutive.

10

The NP helvetin upee kuvasto ’a damn beautiful catalog’does not trigger person or number agreement in the verb as subject NPs do. Therefore, it functions as an object rather than as a promoted subject. (For more discussion, see Sands & Campbell 2001:283).

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Finally, the case marking of full plural NPs and plural pronouns (except for personal pronouns) follows a neutral alignment pattern where case marking does not distinguish between the subject and object roles (consider Table 7).

Subject nominative

Plural Object nominative or partitive

Table 7: Case marking of the core roles. Plural full NPs and plural pronouns (except for personal pronouns). (Helasvuo 2001:44.) Table 7 shows that in clauses where the subject and the object are both plural full NPs or plural pronouns (excluding personal pronouns) both the subject and the object are in the nominative. Example (14) illustrates this. (14) (Palander 1991:242) Ei tarvihtte-is tuola työ-mua-la ennee NEG+3SG need-COND+3SG there work-site-ADE anymore pu-i-hen kansap punnerto-o. tree-PL-GEN with wrestle-INF “One wouldn’t need to wrestle with logs anymore on the site. Raskaa-t työ-t tek-is konnee-t. hard-PL work-PL do-COND+3G machine-PL The hard work would be done by machines.”(Lit. “Machines would do the hard jobs.”) In the latter clause in example (14) there are two plural full NPs, raskaat työt ‘hard jobs’ and konneet ‘machines’, which are both in the nominative. Although raskaat työt is preverbal and thus, in the neutral position for subjects in Finnish, we know on the basis of our world knowledge that it is konneet ‘machines’that do the work and not vice versa. Finnish word order allows for considerable variation for discourse-pragmatic reasons. Therefore, the object NP raskaat työt ‘hard jobs’can be preposed for topicalization even though it functions as the object and not as the subject (for discussion of word order in Finnish, see Vilkuna 1989 and Helasvuo 2001:76–83.) To summarize, the case marking of NPs in the core roles shows variation that is in accordance with the hierarchy of person presented by Silverstein (1976b, 1987b). The case marking of NP types that are highest in the hierarchy realizes a straight-forward nominative-accusative system where the nominative is a true subject marking case, whereas in the coding of other singular pronouns and singular full NPs the nominative can be used to code both subjects and

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objects. The coding of plural full NPs and plural pronouns (not personal pronouns) is in accordance with a neutral alignment system where case marking does not distinguish between the core roles. 3.2.

Constructions of necessity As we have seen above, the nominative-accusative coding distinguishes personal pronouns from other pronouns and NPs in Finnish. The difference is reflected elsewhere as well, most clearly in the so-called NEC (necessity) constructions. In these constructions, there is a modal verb that expresses necessity (i.e. obligation). The verb always appears in the 3rd person singular form (see Laitinen 1997), and the personal pronouns are coded with the accusative case in the object role. In the subject role (in both transitive and intransitive clauses) instead, the personal pronouns are always in the genitive in NEC constructions. This is illustrated in example (15a) below. (15a) (fabricated) Minu-n täyty-y tava-ta sinu-t ja häne-t huomenna. I-GEN must-3SG meet-INF you-ACC and s/he-ACC tomorrow “I have to see you and her/him tomorrow.” Other NPs and pronouns are coded differently from personal pronouns in NEC constructions. In the object role they are always in the nominative (or the partitive), like in the modified example (15b). 11 (15b) (modified; cf. 15a) Minu-n täyty-y tava-ta poika / se12 huomenna I-GEN must-3SG meet-INF boy/he-NOM tomorrow “I have to see the boy/him/it tomorrow.” In the subject role, there is a split pattern to be observed in the case marking of NPs which are in the middle area of Silverstein’s cline. In standard Finnish, they are coded with the genitive (16) in all other contexts except for the so-called existential constructions13, where the postverbal intransitive subject is in the nominative (as in 17b). This norm was formulated by language standardizers during the 19th century (see Laitinen 1997, 2004). It is illustrated

11 They are coded in the same way as objects in passive and imperative clauses in Finnish. The case marking of NPs in the core roles in (15b) is like an inverted pattern of transitive clauses (Itkonen 1979). 12 The pronoun se (‘it’) refers to non-human entities in Standard Finnish. In the spoken language, se is used to refer humans as well. Cf. Section 3.3. 13 For the term existential sentence, see Jespersen 1992 [1924]:154–156; for its use in Finnish Vilkuna 1989:155–160, Helasvuo 2001:7, 61–63, 97–103).

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in (17a) and (17b) by a classical example of an intransitive minimal pair, presented in many grammars. (16) (modified; cf. 15b) Äidi-n täyty-y tava-ta poika / se huomenna. mother-GEN must-3SG meet-INF boy+NOM / it+NOM tomorrow “The mother has to see the boy / him tomorrow.” (17a) (e.g. Setälä 1884:62) Isännä-n pitä-ä ol-la talo-ssa. landlord-GEN must-3SG be-INF house-INE “The landlord must be in the house.” (17b) (e.g. Setälä 1884:62) Talo-ssa pitää ol-la isäntä. house-INE must-3SG be-INF landlord “There must be a landlord in the house.” In other words, the case marking of NPs in NEC constructions has nothing to do with indexicality of reference in standard Finnish. In dialects and other informal registers of Finnish, however, the coding system of all subjects apart from personal pronouns is more complicated. Those transitive subjects that are in the middle of the scale (Figure 1) are coded with the genitive almost without exception. In contrast, the intransitive subjects are in the genitive case only if their human or animate referents are treated as intentional beings whose behavior can be understood as meaningful by the speakers. This happens in modal contexts of deontic duties or obligations (18a), or of dynamic, physical necessities (18b). In such contexts, even postverbal subjects (18b) referring to experiencers of necessity can be coded by genitive. (18a) (transcribed from dialectal data) Sillon täydy-i miäs-ten then must-PST+3SG man-PL+GEN ain always

ol kaikke-in be+INF all-PL+GEN

koton. at.home

“At that time, all the men had to be at home.” (18b) (transcribed from dialectal data) nyt täöty-y jo tul-la kala-n, now must-3SG already come-INF fish-GEN

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kun se on tuo-ssa because it is that-INE

tila-ssa. condition-INE

“The fish has to come now, because it is in that condition.” However, the very same NPs or pronouns with animate referents in the intransitive subject role can take the nominative case as well, if they are construed as non-personal entities whose experiences, intentions or feelings are not relevant in the situation described. In such cases, the modal verb of necessity functions to express either epistemic (19a) or practical (19b) inferences of the speaker(s). Thus, the referents of nominative subjects are not treated as even potential speech act persons taking part in the process described. (19a) (transcribed from dialectal data) Ja se täyty-y ol-las suur lahna and it+NOM must-3SG be-INF big+NOM bream+NOM “And it must be a big bream joka painoa viis kilo-ja. that weigh+3SG five kilo-PTV that weighs five kilos” (19b) (transcribed from dialectal data) Niin siin täyty lapse-t So there must+PST+3SG child-NOM+PL “So the children had to ol-lan niin kynttilä-n, tiku-n näyttäjä-nä. be-INF so candle-GEN splint-GEN holder-ESS hold up the candle, the splint.”(Lit. “so there had to be children as showers of the candle, of the stick.”) Consequently, the right end of the hierarchy (Figure 1) is a place for NPs denoting non-personal referents, for instance inanimate or vegetative entities. These NP types are seldom used in the role of transitive subjects. Usually, they are either intransitive subjects (20a) or objects (20b), both coded with the nominative. Thus, the genitive argument occurs in clauses which are higher in transitivity and the nominative argument occurs where there is lower transitivity (see Sands & Campbell 2001:269–274). (20a) (transcribed from dialectal data) kylä se täyty ol-lam meetri-ä syvä kumminkin, indeed it+NOM must+PST be-INF metre-PTV deep anyway

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se hauta that+NOM pit+NOM “Certainly, it had to be metre-deep, anyway, that tar-burning pit.” (20b) (modified) kylä se indeed it+NOM

täyty kaiva-a meetri-ä syvä kumminkin, must+PST dig-INF metre-PTV deep anyway

se hauta that+NOM pit+NOM “Certainly, it had to be dug metre-deep, anyway, that tar-burning pit.” Hence, in NEC constructions, there is a split in the middle area of the hierarchy of NPs: A referentially animate NP has two possible codings and the choice between the codings depends on whether the referent is construed indexically, that is, as a person involved in the ongoing, or an earlier or at least potential speech act. The coding with the genitive is an index of such a person, whereas the nominative coding entails that the referent is construed as not having any speech act status. The personal pronouns seem to constitute a coherent category that differs from other NP types in Finnish: they show a special accusative case marking for NPs in the object role (see above Section 3.1.) and are obligatorily marked with the genitive when functioning as agents in the NEC constructions. In these constructions, the agents can be represented as zero person (see Laitinen, this volume). For instance, example (20b) above could be modified to (20c) with a transitive subject in the genitive: (20c) (modified) kylä meidä-n indeed PRO1PL-GEN

se it+NOM

täyty kaiva-a must+PST dig-INF

meetri-ä syvä kumminkin, se hauta metre-PTV deep anyway that+NOM pit+NOM “Certainly, we had to dig it metre-deep, anyway, that tar-burning pit.” In the NEC constructions, it is most common not to have an NP subject at all. Example (21) shows how in these cases the zero person (in lines 2 and 6) corresponds referentially to the agents implied by the passive (in lines 1 and 4) (cf. Helasvuo, this volume).


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(21) (from the Archive of Spoken Finnish) 1 Essi: mä ilmota-n et kokous-ta nauhote-ta-an (.) PRO1SG report-1SG that meeting-PTV tape-PASS-PERS parhaillaan just.now “I report that the meeting is being taped at this moment.” 2 Teijo: >pitä-ä teh-äk-ki< [sulje-ttu lippuäänestys]siitä must-3SG do-INF-CLT close-PASS+PTCP ballot it-ELA “A secret ballot must indeed be taken on” 3 Essi:

[tutkimuskäyttö-ön research.use-ILL “for research use”

]

4 Teijo: hyväksy-tä-än-kö se. accept-PASS-PERS-Q it-NOM “whether it is approved” 5

(.)

6 Essi: ei tarvi. NEG need “That is not necessary” 7 Joanna:anne-ta-[an-ko me] give-PASS-PERS-Q PRO1PL “Do we give (the permission for taping)?” 8 Essi:

[se on aivan] hyväksy-ttä-vä-ä. it is perfectly accept-PASS-PTCP-PTV “That is perfectly acceptable.”

In example (21), the open references to persons in the passive (lines 1 and 4) and zero person constructions (lines 2 and 6) could be filled in by speech act participants. Therefore it is not surprising that Joanna uses the 1 st person plural pronoun me ‘we’as the subject of a passive form annetaan ‘give’(in line 7). In this subsection, we have seen how the case marking patterns in the NEC constructions are used to indicate the indexical status of speech act participants. In Finnish, personal pronouns constitute a homogenous group both grammatically and in terms of their meaning. In many other languages, the

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coding of referential forms of 3rd person pronouns differs clearly from 1st and 2nd person pronouns (Lyons 1977:638; Benveniste 1971:217–230). In Finnish however, the personal pronouns in the 3rd person align more closely with 1st and 2nd person pronouns. This can be illustrated with the system of logophoric pronominal reference in non-standard Finnish, where the personal pronoun in the 3rd person denotes a kind of second order speech act participant. 3.3.

Logophoric pronouns in Finnish The 3rd person pronouns hän ‘s/he’and he ‘they’are coded in the same way as speech act pronouns (i.e. 1st and 2nd person pronouns). This is explained on the basis of their logophoricity. The logophoric pronouns, noted for instance in many West-African languages, indicate coreference with an individual whose speech or point of view is being reported, mostly in indirect discourse (see e.g. Hagège 1974, Hyman & Comrie 1981, Brinton 1995). In all Finnish dialects, the 3rd person pronouns hän ‘she/he(/it)’and he ‘they’) are used logophorically, whereas in standard Finnish, the pronouns hän and he must always be used in reference to human referents, and the pronouns se ‘it’and ne ‘they’ are exclusively used for non-humans. (For a more detailed discussion, see Laitinen 2002 and Laitinen 2005). Example (22) was recorded from a dialect by Setälä (1883:85). (22) (Setälä 1883:85) Se sano, että kyllä PRO3SG said that surely mi-tä what-PTV

hän tiätä-ä LOG know-3SG

se teke-e. PRO3SG do-3SG

“S/hei said that surely s/hei knows what s/hej is doing.” Example (22) shows that the non-logophoric reference of the 3rd person is mediated by the pronoun se (‘s/he’in the plural ne ‘they’), whereas hän (‘s/he’, in the plural he ‘they’) is used for logophoric reference. In the example, the first two pronouns (se and hän) are coreferential: they refer to the speaker whose words are reported indirectly, whereas the third pronoun (se) is not coreferential with the others. However, the modes of oratio obliqua (indirect speech) and oratio recta (direct speech) are not always kept distinct in spoken Finnish. For instance in (23), there is a shift between the two modes coded in the choice of the personal forms, the 1st person pronoun minun and 2nd person imperative form ruppeehan (oratio recta, line 2), and the 3rd person logophoric pronoun hän that combines with the 3rd person singular form (oratio obliqua, line 3).

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(23) (Latvala 1899) 1 Sano hukkalintu, say+PST+3SG falcon.bird “The falconi said: 2

no ruppee-han minu-n selekä-än, well set.about+IMP+2SG-CL PRO1SG-GEN back-ILL well, get up on myi back

3

hän viep hyrräö-ttä-ä. LOG take+3SG hum-CAUS-3SG s/hei takes (you) there.”

In addition to its usage in reported speech, the logophoric hän can be used in Finnish dialects to refer to the addressees, i.e., recipients of the speech. In (24a), a verb of hearing is used with the logophoric pronoun, and in (24b), the recipient of the quoted directive is referred to with hän. Example (24c) is a polite question that illustrates how the speech act role of an addressee is coded by the logophoric pronoun. (24a) (from an 1883 folktale in Rausmaa 1972) Niin äiti sa-i kuul-la, so mother may-PST+3SG hear-INF “And so the motheri heard missä hän-en poika-nsa o-vat where LOG-GEN son-3PX be-3PL where heri sons are ja poika, missä velje-nsä. and son where brother-3PX and the son (heard) where his brothers (are).” (24b) (from the Morphology Archives) se kysy-i isält sit osa-a-k hän ruatti-i. 3SG ask-PST+3SG father-ABL then can-3SG-Q LOG Swedish-PTV “hei [the trader] asked the fatherj then if hej [the father] knew Swedish.” (24c) (from the Morphology Archives) Ol-i-ks hän äiti-em-päivä-l koto? be-PST+3SG-Q LOG mother-GEN+PL-day-ADE at.home “[To the interviewer:] Was s/he (=you) at home on the Mothers’Day?”

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In (24c), the logophoric pronoun hän refers to an addressed participant in the ongoing speech event. It is also possible to use hän to refer to a participant in the speech event who is not able to speak (such as animals or small children) but whose behaviour is interpreted as meaningful and communicative. Thus, the reference of the personal pronoun in the 3 rd person is created and determined in the speech act, either in the present speech event or in an earlier one. 3.4.

Interim summary In this section, we have shown that the coding of the core arguments in Finnish can be described with reference to the hierarchy of NP categories which is based on their morphosyntactic behavior (most notably, case marking and agreement patterns) and, at the same time, on their capacity to denote entities of language use, i.e. the relation of these NP types to the speech event. Thus, in addition to the morphosyntactic coding of the NPs, we have dealt with their indexicality. Next, in Section 4, we focus on the way in which personal reference is construed in the discourse context. 4.

Construing personal reference

4.1.

First person First person reference forms are usually considered unproblematic: the speaker makes reference to him/herself, and in the plural, the reference includes some others in addition to the speaker. Who the plural 1 st person reference forms refer to has to be inferred from the context. As will be seen below, however, participants most often rely on reference that is sufficient for them and not necessarily specific. Furthermore, it will be shown that even singular 1st person forms can be used to create open reference. Example (25) comes from a meeting of a student association. The chair reports to the meeting on a discussion she has had with a representative of another student association. (25) (from the Archive of Spoken Finnish) 1 Joanna: me sovit-ti-i et kymmene (0.2) PRO1PL agree-PASS-PERS COMP ten “We agreed that (it would be) ten (euros), in other words, 2

elikkä (0.6) se makso in.other.words PRO3SG pay+PST+3SG he paid for it.

3

ja sit se ol-i and then PRO3SG be-PST+3SG and then he had complained about

se-n. 3SG-ACC

haukku-nu complain-PTCP


196

4

meijä-n hieno-j-a hylly-j-ä we-GEN fine-PL-PTV shelf-PL-PTV our beautiful shelves.

5

mu-n miele-st kun ne pysy-y I-GEN mind-ELA as they stay-3SG I think they should stay

6

tollee (.) paikallasa siinä [ni], that.way in.place there so there in their place [so]”

7 Teijo:

8

[nii] so “So siis on-ko Heisi homman-nu tänne hylly-j-ä. so has-Q H. get-PTCP here shelf-PL-PTV has Heisi [name of the student organization] gotten some shelves here?”

9 Joanna: e:::i “No!” There are two plural first person references in the example (lines 1 and 4). In the first case, Joanna uses me ‘we’to refer to herself and somebody else. From the context we can infer that this somebody else is the representative of the other student organization. In line 4 she again uses the 1st person plural pronoun, but now it refers to their own organization and its members. The change in the scope of the reference is not explicitly stated but has to be inferred. In the first instance the reference is sufficient for the co-participants as it does not elicit any response that would indicate problems but in the second instance (line 4), it turns out that it is not clear at least for Teijo how the reference of meijän ‘our’should be understood, since he asks (lines 7–8) whether the student organization has gotten the shelves, i.e. whether the shelves are “ours”in the sense that the organization was active in getting them. First person plural reference forms can also be used in cases where the reference is not limited to a specific group but rather is open. The same is true for first person singular forms (see example 26, and Laitinen, this volume). Example (26) comes from a gardening program where a consultant gives advice to the owner of the garden.

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(26) (Kauppinen 1998:221) 1 Consultant: kun tässä on nyt tämmönen kitukasvunen nurmikko, as there be+3SG now this.kind.of scarce grass “As the grass here is kind of patchy, 2

niin mä hävittä-isi-n so PRO1SG root.up-COND-1SG then I would get rid of it

3

kyllä kokonaan. sure totally completely.”

se-n it-ACC

In line 2 the consultant uses the 1st person singular pronoun but the reference is offered as open to the co-participant if the co-participant is willing to identify himself/herself with the speaker. The conditional marking on the verb entails that what is being said is offered as an intensional alternative (i.e. it entails the meaning ‘if I were you’; see Lyons 1977:814). The speaker steps into the place of the addressee and offers him/her the opportunity to identify himself/herself with the proposal. Example (27) also involves first person reference forms. It comes from an article about night life in St. Petersburg, Russia. The excerpt is from an interview with a Russian journalist Vladimir Kovalev. Only those lines that are the focus of our analysis are given item-by-item glosses. (27) (Suomen Kuvalehti 20/2003:32) 1

St. Petersburg Timesin toimittaja Vladimir Kovalev sanoo, “Vladimir Kovalev, a journalist of the St. Petersburg Times, says

2

että naisten ja miesten välisen kanssakäymisen that the ancient Russian forms of interaction between men and women

3

ikivanhat venäläiset lainalaisuudet eivät ole hävinneet minnekään. have not disappeared anywhere.

4

”Mies ajattele-e, että jos man think-3SG that if “A man thinks that if

5

hän osta-a naise-lle baari-ssa drinki-n, PRO3SG buy-3SG woman-ALL bar-ADE drink-ACC he buys a woman a drink in a bar,

198


6

hän voi myös osta-a naise-n. PRO3SG can also buy-INF woman-ACC he can also buy the woman.

7

Ja naise-t odotta-vat sellais-ta käytös-tä. and woman-PL expect-3PL that.kind.of-PTV behavior-PTV And women expect that kind of behavior.

8

Jos halua-n istu-a tuntemattoma-n naise-n pöytä-än, if want-1SG sit-INF unknown-GEN woman-GEN table-ILL If I want to sit at an unknown woman’s table,

9

minu-n pitää tarjo-ta häne-lle PRO1SG-GEN must offer-INF PRO3SG-ALL I have to offer her a drink.”

juoma.” drink

The interviewee first uses singular full NPs mies (‘man’, line 4) and naiselle (‘for a woman’, line 5) that are generic. In lines 5 and 6 there is the 3rd person pronoun hän (‘she/he’) that is coreferential with mies. In line 7 there is a plural full NP naiset (‘women’), also generic. In line 8 there is a switch to first person reference. It seems that although the reference can be understood as referring to the speaker himself, it is at the same time open for the co-participant (or even the reader): this is how I or anyone else in a situation like this would think or act. (For more discussion, Laitinen, this volume; Section 3.3.) Naturally, first person reference forms are usually used in reference to the speaker or, in the case of plural reference, to the speaker and some other(s). Who the others are must be inferred from the context. As we have shown, however, there is also the possibility for open reference. 4.2.

Second person Second person forms are typically used in reference to the addressee, either the co-participant in a conversation or the reader. In addition, they can be used for open reference (cf. Lerner 1996:282–283). This usage has become increasingly popular, and it has even aroused public debate as some people have criticized it for representing foreign influence. It has been shown, however, that the open or generic usage of the 2 nd person forms is rooted in the old Finnish dialects (see below and Yli-Vakkuri 1986:102–105 and Laitinen, this volume; Section 3.2). Example (28) illustrates the usage of second person plural forms. In the example there are several instances of plural 2nd person reference, though the reference is construed differently. However, as the extract shows, this does not cause the co-participants trouble for identifying the referents. The example comes from a meeting of a student association (the same meeting as in example

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25). The students are discussing the date for a meeting of the male division (miesjaosto) of the association. One of the participants, Essi, notes (line 4) that the meeting cannot decide on this issue at this point of the meeting because it is not on the agenda, but that the decision has to be postponed until they get to “Other business”in the agenda. (28) (from the Archive of Spoken Finnish) 1 Kirsikka: eli ehdotettu keskiviikkoiltaa kello kahdeksantoista,(.) “in other words Wednesday night at six has been suggested, 2

3 Essi:

>käsi ylös kenelle ei [sovi]?< hands up, those for whom this doesn’t work” [hei,] “hey

4

te e-tte voi PÄÄTTÄ-Ä tä-ssä vaihee-ssa. PRO2PL NEG-2PL can decide-INF this-INE stage-INE you can’t decide (on it) at this point (of the meeting)

5

(.) (---) te voi-tte päättä-ä PRO2PL can-2PL decide-INF you can decide (on it)

6

[vasta mu-i-ssa esille tulevissa [asio-i-ssa]. only other-PL-INE up.coming issue-PL-INE only (when we get) to “Other business”(in the agenda).”

9 Teijo:

[ei liity no-i-hin ilmoitusasio-i-[hin NEG relate that-PL-ILL notice-PL-ILL “(This) doesn’t relate to announcements.”

9 Joanna:

]

[jees ] “Yes.

10 Joanna:

mut se voi-ja-an varmaa (---) but it can-PASS-PERS surely But it can surely be (---)

11 Joanna:

mut te voi-jate but PRO2PL can-PASS- PRO2PL But you can- you can surely

voi-tte varmaa can-2PL surely


200 12

[setvi-ä se-n sitte, muu- mu-i-na aiko-i-na.] discuss-INF it-ACC then other- other-PL-ESS time-PL-ESS discuss it then at some other- other time.”

13 Okko:

[joo me voi-da-an keskenämme sopi-a.] yeah PRO1PL can-PASS-PERS between.us agree-INF “Yeah, we can settle it among ourselves.”

In lines 4–5 Essi uses second person plural forms (2nd person plural pronoun + 2nd person plural verb form) to address the other representatives in the meeting. In lines 10–11 Joanna, the chair of the meeting, responds to Essi’s suggestion, and starts to make her own proposal in line 10 using the passive. In line 11 she uses the 2nd person pronoun but combines it first with a passive form which is not a grammatical combination. She makes a repair and recycles the pronoun and changes the verb into the correct form (2nd person plural). Okko, one of the members of the male division, responds to this using the 1st person plural form me ‘we’(line 13). The changes in the forms of personal reference are interesting: Essi uses the 2nd person plural forms to address those present in the meeting. When Joanna responds to this (line 10), she first uses the passive which could be interpreted to refer to the representatives in the meeting, i.e. to be coreferential with Essi’s 2nd person plural reference, but as we have noted, the use of the passive leaves the reference open for construal in the context. The construction Joanna uses is never finished. She then changes into the 2 nd person plural form (line 11). Although the form is the same as the one Essi has used (lines 4–5), it is not coreferential with the earlier mention, but rather, it refers to the members of the male division. It elicits response from one of the addressed participants, Okko, who displays that he has understood the reference form to refer to himself (line 13). Example (29) illustrates the use of the 2nd person singular forms in open reference (see also Laitinen, this volume). The example comes from an interview with a speaker of an Eastern dialect of Finnish. This is the dialectal area where this usage has been most widespread; now, it is becoming more and more popular everywhere in Finland (Yli-Vakkuri 1986:102–105). Again, only those lines that are in focus are given item-by-item glosses. (29) (Forsberg, in preparation) 1 no kun on neät niij juluman syvä tää järvi jotta “well you see this lake is so horribly deep that 2

kun kerran lähe-t ranna-lta niin when once leave-2SG shore-ABL so if you leave the shore

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3

sillon ei ennee pohjaa, jalat yllä. --- on tää järvi semmone jotta, then (one’s) feet do not reach the bottom. --- This lake is the sort that

4

kun kerrar ranna-lta lähtö-ö ni ala ui-ja if once shore-ABL leave-3SG so start+IMP+2SG swim-INF as soon as (one) leaves the shore, then start swimming.”

In line 2 the speaker uses a 2nd person singular verb form not in reference to the co-participant but rather, as indexically open. Note that there is no separate personal pronoun, only the person marking on the verb. In line 4 there is an if– then clausal compound. Interestingly enough, in the first part of the compound the speaker uses the zero person construction, i.e. a 3rd person verb form without any overt subject, but in the latter part of the compound he switches to a 2nd person imperative form. Both are referentially open. Seppänen (2000) discusses the differences between the old usage patterns of the generic 2nd person forms and the more modern usage. Most notably, the modern examples usually contain both the pronoun and the verbal person marking (see example 30 below), whereas in the data from traditional dialects, there is usually no pronoun in the examples of the generic usage of the 2nd person singular. Thus, person is expressed only through verbal person marking (see example 29). Although the use of the 2nd person in open or generic reference is not alien to Finnish — it was mentioned in old grammars (see Setälä 1891, § 93) — its recent spread has probably been encouraged by foreign models (Swedish, English). It is noteworthy that in these languages there is little or no verbal person inflection; hence the personal pronoun is necessary in the expression of person. This is of course not the case in Finnish, but nevertheless, in the present-day language, it is more common to have both the pronoun and the verbal person marking in the examples of the generic usage of the 2nd person forms (cf. above, Section 2.2.). Example (30) illustrates the present-day usage patterns for the generic 2nd person. It comes from a conversation between three teenage boys who are discussing a computer game. The discussion contains specialized vocabulary and in the excerpt one of the speakers starts to explain the terminology. The recording is quite recent, and the participants are speakers of a Western dialect of Finnish. (30) (from the Archive of Spoken Finnish) 1 Santeri: level on semmonen “The level is such 2

minkä sä which+ACC PRO2SG that you always get it

saa-t get-2SG

aina always

202

3

4 Mikko:

5


kun sä saa-t (.) eksperi [ense-e tarpeeksi when PRO2SG get-2SG experience-PTV enough when you get enough experience” [JOO ÄLÄ (.) yeah NEG+IMP+2SG “yeah don’t, ÄLÄ rupia nii-tä selosta-ma-an NEG+IMP+2SG start they-PTV explain-INF-ILL don’t start explaining those.”

In lines 2 and 3 Santeri uses second person forms with indexically open reference when trying to explain the term “level”. Mikko responds to this by telling Santeri not to start explaining the terms. He uses a second person imperative form; here the second person form refers to the addressee, Santeri. We have illustrated that 2nd person reference forms can be used in reference to the addressee but also in indexically open reference. The interpretation of the referential form as open or anchored to the addressee is based on the context. 4.3.

Third person We saw in Section 2.2. how leaving out a subject often serves anaphoric functions. Because the reference of the anaphoric zero subject is the same as the reference of its antecedent, this use contrasts in the 3rd person with the socalled zero person construction or the passive that carry open reference. As shown by Laitinen (this volume, example 9), there are even contrastive pairs of utterances with slightly differing word order that manifest the difference between the anaphoric zero subject and the open zero construction. Otherwise, the ambiguous cases are solved by context (cf. example 32 below). Third person plural forms can also be used to refer to human agents non-specifically (or “impersonally”), that is, as forms with open reference. In this usage, the pronouns are usually left out, and the person and number are coded only in the verb (example 31). (31) (from the Morphology Archives) kehuu-vat olo-van tuala mustiko-i-ta tell-3PL be-PTCP there blueberry-PL-PTV “they say that there are blueberries over there” In (31) there is no subject pronoun, and the reference of the person marker on the verb is interpreted as open.

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In Section 2.1., we discussed the use of the 3rd person plural pronouns in connection with passive verb forms in some Finnish dialects (example 2 above). We noted that in these cases the reference of the pronominal element wins, that is, the interpretation of the personal reference is based on the person expressed by the nominal element, not the person marking on the verb. In cases with zero subject and third person plural marking on the verb (such as 31 above), the zero subject can be interpreted as anaphoric or as carrying open reference, depending on context. Open reference in 3rd person is not limited to the plural. Examples (32) and (33) illustrate singular forms. (32) (Seppälä 1993) 1 Ei se NEG+3SG PRO3SG “It was not dead.

ollut kuollut. be-PCP dead

2

Mela-n isku-t ol-i-vat nuljahdel-lee-t paddle-GEN hit-PL be-PST-PL3 slip-PTCP-PL The hit of the paddle had slipped off

3

liukkaa-n kala-n pinna-sta slimy-GEN fish-GEN surface-ELA of the surface of the slimy fish

4

venee-n pohjalauto-i-hin. boat-GEN bottom.board-PL-ILL against the boat’s bottom boards.

5

Elä-köön jos niin sitkeähenkinen live-IMP+3SG if so tough.lived Let it live, if it is so tough.

6

Pannu-ssa kuole-e. pan-INE die-3SG (It) will die anyway in the pan.”

on. be+3SG

In the context of the story, the 3rd person reference in the construction in line 6 (Pannussa kuolee) is anaphoric, i.e. co-referential with a specific fish mentioned in line 3. However, if presented by itself without any context, line 6 would be interpreted as a zero person construction (‘One dies in the pan’). 14 14

Also the conditional clause in line 5 includes in principle a perfect instance of zero person constructions. However, because it is not possible to construct imperative forms of open zeroes, an interpretation of eläköön (line 5) such as ‘let one live’does not work.

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Example (33) is a continuation of example (30) presented above (repeated here without glosses to lines 1–2): (33) (from the Archive of Spoken Finnish) 1 Santeri: level on semmonen minkä sä saat aina “The level is such that you always get it kun sä saat (.) eksperiense-e tarpeeksi when you get enough experience.” 2 Mikko:

JOO ÄLÄ (.) ÄLÄ rupia niitä selostamaan “Yeah don’t, don’t start to explain those things!”

3 Santeri:

[((whistles))

4 Mikko:

[ ol-is men-ny tämä tunti sii-hen. be-COND+3SG go-PTCP this hour that-ILL “It would have taken the whole hour.”

5 Ben:

ei ku leveli on sellaanen NEG but level is such “No but the level is such that

6

kun saa-t ekspu-a tarpeheks. that get-2SG experience-PTV enough when you get enough experience”15

7 Santeri:

[he he he]

8 Ben:

[he he he]

9 Mikko:

se-hän se on. it-CLT it is “That’s it!”

10 Ben:

oikeen tä-llä ihme slangi-lla vääntä-ä. right this-ADE amazing slang-ADE twist-3SG “(He) really talks in this amazing slang,”

11 Mikko:

#mm#

15

Expu is a slang word for experience.

PERSON IN FINNISH

12 Ben:

205

ekspu-a tarpeheks. expu-PTV enough “like, enough ”expu”(experience)!”

As noted above (example 23), both open reference and anaphoric 2 nd person forms are used in this dialogue; also line 6 contains open reference. The subjectless clause in line 10 could perhaps be understood as an open zero construction as well, such as: ‘one really tries to speak this odd slang’. However, its function here is to comment sarcastically the English-imitating slang (leveli ‘level’and expu ‘experience’) of Ben in lines 5–6. Thus, it resembles more example (30) above, conveying an ironic stance of the speaker. Nevertheless, there are examples where the choice between an anaphoric and an open zero interpretation is much more difficult to make: (34) (from the Archive of Spoken Finnish) 1 Santeri: mu-a ei yh-tään nappaa PRO1SG-PTV NEG any-PTV attract “I’m not at all interested in starting to date

alaka-a start-INF

2

se-n Heidi-n kanssa, semmonen saatana-n kaukanen, that-GEN H.-GEN with such Satan-GEN distant that Heidi, so damn reserved,

3

(.) ja tommonen urpo muuten-ki, and such stupid otherwise-CLT and so stupid as well, (she) sends

4

aatel-kaa ku me ei ol-la eres yhressä, think-IMP+2PL as we NEG be-PASS even together, — just think about it — we aren’t even dating

5

se pistää viis viesti-ä päivä-ssä. PRO3SG set-3SG five message-PTV day-INE she sends five messages a day (to me).”

pistä-ä (.) set-3SG

6 Mikko: totta viis viesti-ä päivä-ssä pitä-ä pistä-ä. sure five message-PTV day-INE must-3SG set-INF “Surely (she/one) has to send five messages a day.” In example (34), Santeri is talking about a girl called Heidi who is sending him too many text messages with her mobile phone. In line 3, there is an anaphoric zero subject referring to Heidi, followed by an anaphoric 3rd person pronoun se

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in line 5. In line 6, Mikko responds to the complaining, using the verb pitää ‘has to’without a subject. Pitää is a verb of obligation that always occurs in the 3rd person singular form regardless of the person and number of the subject. If there is a subject, it is inflected in the genitive, but as we have seen in Section 3.2., NEC constructions often appear without a subject (cf. also Laitinen, this volume). In theory then, this zero form can be interpreted in two ways: either as referring anaphorically to Heidi, just like the zero in line 3 (‘she has to send’), or as an open construction (‘one has to send’). There are subtle differences in the perspectives of these two options. In the first case, the anaphoric zero subject would be used for reinforcing the description of Heidi’s obsessive behavior in the function (cf. example 11 in Section 2.2.). It is observed from an outside perspective. In the second case, the commenting is to be understood as an (ironic) identification with the position of Heidi: ‘Indeed, one needs to send five messages per day (to you)!’ 5.

Conclusions In this article, we have explored the coding of person in Finnish as it is manifested in the person marking of the finite verb and in personal pronouns. In Finnish, the predicate verb agrees with the subject in person (1st, 2nd and 3rd) and number (singular : plural). The verb thus shows the same person as the subject, and therefore, the nominal and the verbal person marking systems have usually not been discussed separately in Finnish linguistics (see e.g. Sulkala & Karjalainen 1992, Hakulinen & Karlsson 1979). We have shown, however, that in colloquial varieties the coding of person is more complicated than this, and that the verbal and nominal person marking systems intersect, but not in the straightforward manner suggested in traditional Finnish linguistics. The connections between the two form an intricate network: we have demonstrated that the verbal person marking is not copied from the subject pronoun in a mechanical way, nor is the personal pronoun redundant. We have therefore illustrated the nominal and verbal person marking systems as two paradigmatic systems. It is important to note, however, that these paradigms receive a deeper meaning only on the syntagmatic level. It has been customary in the more recent treatments of the person system in Finnish to present the passive as a member of the person system (see Hakulinen & Karlsson 1979, Sulkala & Karjalainen 1992). Hakulinen and Karlsson (1979, following Tuomikoski 1971) have chosen to describe it as the “4th person”, but the meaning of this description is hard to pin down without reference to the constructions and the different contexts in which the passive appears. As we have shown, the passive is the most flexible member of the verbal person paradigm as it has the widest variety in the set of nominal persons it can co-occur with: most notably, it co-occurs with plural 1 st person subjects, but also, with plural 3rd person subjects. In these cases, the construc-

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tion represents the person expressed by the nominal element. If the passive form appears by itself, without any nominal subject, the reference is open and has to be construed in the context. (For more discussion, see Helasvuo, this volume.) In addition to the passive there is another form in the person system that systematically creates open reference, namely, the zero person. With the term zero person we refer to a construction with a 3rd person singular verb form with no overt subject. For the purpose of illustration of paradigmatic relations we have placed the zero person in the nominal person paradigm. It is important to note, however, that it has no nominal realization but rather is only realized in constructions with the 3rd person verb form. Laitinen (this volume) argues that the zero person is best understood as a construction, in other words, as conventionalized in particular syntagmatic patterns. We have further shown that not only the passive and the zero person, but also other forms (1st and 2nd person) can be used to create open reference (cf. English you as a speech-act person vs. the so-called “generic” you). In these cases, it is constrained by the context whether the personal form should be interpreted as open or as indexing a speech act participant (e.g. the addressee). With the help of examples from natural discourse we hope to have shown how reference is constructed in an interactive process by the participants. Data sources Archive of Spoken Finnish. Department of Finnish, University of Turku. Corpus of Conversation. Department of Finnish, University of Helsinki. Latvala, Salu 1895: Lauseopillisia havaintoja Luoteis-Satakunnan kansankielestä. Suomi III:12, 1 79. Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society. Latvala, Salu 1899. “Lauseopillisia muistiinpanoja Pohjois-Savon murteesta.” Suomi III:12. Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society. Liksom, Rosa 1995. Unohtunut vartti. Helsinki: WSOY. Morphology Archives. Department of Finnish, University of Helsinki. Seppälä, Juha 1993. Lähtösavut. Helsinki: WSOY. Rausmaa, Pirkko-Liisa (ed.) 1972. Suomalaiset kansansadut 1. Ihmesadut. Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society. Suomalaisia kansansatuja. I Osa. Eläinsatuja. 1886. Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society. Suomen Kuvalehti 20/2003. A weekly magazine published by Yhtyneet Kuvalehdet.

ZERO PERSON IN FINNISH A GRAMMATICAL RESOURCE FOR CONSTRUING HUMAN REFERENCE

LEA LAITINEN University of Helsinki

1.

Introduction The present paper deals with Finnish constructions containing the socalled ‘zero person’, which are also referred to as ‘missing persons’(Hakulinen and Karttunen 1973) or ‘null subjects’(Heinonen 1995), such as in examples (1) and (2).1 These constructions express typical changes of state, emotions, perceptions, receivings or the experiences of human beings in particular situations: in the grammar of Finnish, they are highly anthropocentric crystallizations of experience. The paper is intended to analyze the grammar and meanings of the zero-person constructions, especially of zeroes in subject positions. The grammar of zero persons is first presented in outline according to recent descriptions, and then its meaning is analysed on the basis of conversational data. In the analysis, the manner in which it codes non-specific reference is compared to the relative use of personal pronouns in Finnish. (1)

Suome-ssa joutu-u sauna-an. Finland-INE get-3SG sauna-ILL “In Finland you wind up in a sauna.”

(2)

Tänään ei tarkene ilman today NEG+3SG be.warm.enough without “Today you will be cold without a coat.”

takki-a. coat-PTV

As seen above in (1) and (2), the zero-person constructions have no overt subject, and the predicate verb appears in the 3rd person singular form. The implied subject is translated in English as you or one; in German and Swedish the equivalent form with non-specific human referents would be the pronoun man. 1 I am grateful to the editors and writers of this volume for helpful comments on the earlier draft of this paper.

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Thus, the use of the zero-person constructions is a conventional way in Finnish building up generic statements concerning human beings. Besides the passive, the zero person has been counted as a non-specific member in the personal system of Finnish (Hakulinen 1987; Helasvuo and Laitinen, this volume). Referentially, it is almost invariably human, or at least an animate entity treated as a person.2 Although the syntax and semantics of these constructions does not differ in the standard and colloquial varieties of Finnish, only empirical data from ordinary conversations is used in analysis to show how the personal reference of zeroes is constructed in speech situations, i.e. indexically. Especially two theoretical approaches to situational meanings have inspired this study. The concept of referential indexicality and the relating of morphosyntactic categories to the semiotic principles are based on the tradition of semioticfunctional pragmatics, reformulated as the metapragmatic theory by Silverstein (e.g. 1976a and b, 1987, 1993). As for the linguistic nature of subjectivity, the implied perspective of speakers in reference and predication, the analysis by Langacker (e.g. 1991a, 1999a) has been most illuminating. In the preliminary drafts of my study (Laitinen 1995 and 1996), the main object was to illustrate how the open personal reference is construed by zero-persons and how thereby an open place of experience is offered for the participants of interaction to be recognized and identified with. The paper at hand aims to posit further questions about implicit (zero) and explicit (pronoun or suffix) personal categories in coding indexical but non-specific human reference. The disposition of the paper is the following. In Section 2, the grammar and semantics of zero constructions is outlined according to their descriptions in Finnish linguistics. In this section, the examples are fabricated or modified from various data. Section 3 shows how the open reference of zeroes is construed in everyday conversations, comparing it to the use of the 1st and 2nd pronouns in the same contexts. The data used in this section have been transcribed from tape recordings of conversations (see the Appendix). In conclusion, I discuss the referentiality of the zero person and its relation to the indexical ground of the personal system in Finnish. 2.

Grammar and semantics of the zero-person constructions The personal system in standard Finnish is presented as a syntactic paradigm in (3); for a tentative treatment of its nominal and verbal dimensions separately, see Helasvuo and Laitinen in this volume. In Finnish, the predicate verb agrees with the nominative subject both in person and number. As shown with the round brackets below, the presence of the 1st and 2nd person pronoun is

2 It is possible, if only rare, even to use the zero person constructions for domestic or game animals, when the speaker comments on its situation identifying him/herself with it.

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largely optional. However, in the case of open reference, the zero person (Ø) is obligatory. 3 (3) 1. 2. 3. Ø.

(minä) ota-n ‘I take’ (sinä) ota-t ‘you take’ hän otta-a ‘(s)he takes’ otta-a ‘[one] takes’

(me) ota-mme ‘we take’ (te) ota-tte ‘you take’ he otta-vat ‘they take’ 4. [pass] ote-ta-an ‘is taken’

Thus, the paradigm reveals that the zero subject has no form as an NP and that its predicate verb is always in the 3rd person singular form. Contrary to the other persons above, the zero appears and can be recognized only in syntactic representations referred to here as zero-person constructions. The grammar and semantics of zero subjects, thoroughly described in Hakulinen and Karttunen (1973), can be outlined briefly in the following way. 4 First, the number of the subject implied is singular, as the predicative complement (pitkä) in example (4a) indicates. As shown in examples (4b and c), the predicative complement reflects the number of the subject in Finnish. (4a)

Joskus on edu-ksi, että on pitkä. sometimes be+3SG advantage-TRA that be+3SG tall+SG “Sometimes it is advantageous to be tall”

(4b)

Tyttö on pitkä. girl be+3SG tall+SG “The girl is tall.”

(4c)

Tytö-t o-vat pitk-i-ä. girl-PL be-3PL tall-PL-PTV “The girls are tall.”

Secondly, the subject is in the 3rd person, as illustrated in examples (5) below, where the reflexive pronoun (5a) and the possessive suffix (5b) bound by the zero subject are 3rd person forms. In Finnish, these reflexive elements agree with their antecedents in all persons. The number is not indicated separately in the 3rd person.

3 The positional symmetry of zeroes in the left column and passives in the right column is arguable on syntactic grounds; cf. ex. (4). 4 See also Leinonen 1983 and 1985, Vilkuna 1992, Laitinen 1995a and 1996, as well as Hakulinen et al. 2004.

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(5a)

Ei saa pettä-ä itse-ä-än. NEG+3SG be.allowed deceive-INF oneself-PTV-3PX “You must not deceive yourself.”

(5b)

Jos pettä-ä ystävä-nsä, voi menettä-ä hän-et. if deceive-3SG friend-3PX may+3SG lose-INF 3SG-ACC “If you deceive your friend, you may lose her/him.”

Also, the case marking of the object (hän-et) in (5b) in the accusative shows that the zero subject behaves syntactically like subjects in the nominative case. Particularly in the case of personal pronouns, Finnish is a language with nominative-accusative case marking. Used as objects in affirmative clauses, these pronouns must have a separate, accusative form which implies the presence of a nominative subject. As mentioned previously, the person implied in a zero-person construction is usually human and non-specific: the zero represents ‘you’, ‘one’, ‘anyone’or ‘they’in the situation described. It is emphasized in Finnish linguistics that depending on contextual factors, the zero person also can be interpreted as being specific. Nevertheless, in examples (4) and (5) above, the referent of the zero is the most generic one. These exemplify, actually, the three grammatical contexts where zero subjects can be used with action or activity verbs (such as pettää ‘to deceive’), and stative verbs (like olla ‘to be; to exist’): first, in the ‘if–then’frame (jos–niin in 5b), second, with modal verbs of necessity and possibility (saa ‘be allowed to’in 5a, voi ‘may’in 5b; täytyy ‘must, have to’in 10a below), and third, in generic complex sentences, such as in (4a). A more specific interpretation of the zero person is usual especially in past tense contexts. In example (6), the zero can be understood to refer to the actual speaker. However such an interpretation is also possible in the present tense: for instance in (7), the zero could be directed to both the speaker and addressee(s) and in (8), to the latter only. (6)

Aamu-lla sa-i morning-ADE get-PST+3SG “In the morning, I/we got fish.”

kala-a. fish-PTV

(7)

Huomenna saa kahvi-a. tomorrow get+3SG coffee-PTV “You can get coffee tomorrow.”

(8)

Tuo-lla tava-lla ei parane. that-ADE way-ADE NEG+3SG recover “You won’t recover that way.”


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Nevertheless, even if they could be interpreted as referentially specific, the examples above are still genuine zero-person constructions and could not be understood for instance as anaphoric null subjects. The zero-person constructions frequently start with a preverbal theme as is found in examples (6)–(8) above. In the minimal pair of (9) (Hakulinen & al. 2004), the word order differentiates the zero person (a) from an anaphoric zero (b); in the latter case, the preverbal position is empty: 5 (9a)

Mikko huoma-si, ett-ei ove-sta pääse Mikko find-PST+3SG COMP-NEG door-ELA get “Mikko found that one can’t get out of the door.”

(9b)

Mikko huoma-si, ett-ei pääse ove-sta. Mikko find-PST+3SG COMP-NEG get door-ELA “Mikko found that he couldn’t get out of the door.”

Usually the verbs in zero-person constructions express processes such as changes of state (such as paleltua ‘to freeze’, ikävystyä ‘to get bored’), emotions (iloita ‘to be happy’), perceptions (kuulla ‘to hear’, nähdä ‘to see’, tuntea ‘to feel’), experiences (viihtyä ‘to enjoy’, kauhistua ‘to be shocked’), losses (menettää ‘to lose’, as in example 5b), receptions (saada ‘to get’, as in example 6), or accessions like päästä (‘get’in example 9). Thus, the person implied is in the role of, for instance, the beneficiary (example 7), experiencer, or patient (as in example 8: parantua ‘to recover’). In other words, the zero person has the proto-patient role implication of affectedness (cf. Dowty 1991). Besides nominative subjects, arguments in oblique cases are also postulated in Finnish linguistics as potential zero persons (e.g. Vilkuna 1989:48–49, 194–195, Hakulinen & al. 2004). Often their status is somewhat questionable, and they should instead be analyzed as anaphors that have an open zero antecedent in the textual context. In the present paper, I concentrate on zero subjects. However, there are also other zero arguments that are morphosyntactically manifested in conventional constructions. These types of constructions, which have a zero person standing for an NP argument in an oblique case, are illustrated in examples (10a), (11a), (12a) and (13a). (10a) Hampaa-t täytyy harja-ta. teeth-PL must+3SG brush-INF “The teeth have to be brushed.”

5 For additional information on the difference between anaphoric and generic zeroes, see Heinonen 1995.

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(10b) Minu-n täytyy harja-ta PRO1SG-GEN must+3SG brush-INF “I have to brush my teeth.”

hampaa-t. teeth-PL

(11a) Synkä-ssä metsä-ssä pelotta-a. dark-INE forest-INE make.afraid-3SG “One feels frightened in a dark forest.” (11b) Minu-a pelotta-a. PRO1SG-PTV make.afraid-3SG “I feel frightened.” (12a) Tuntu-u hyvä-ltä. feel-3SG good-ABL “One/one of us feels good.” (12b) Minu-sta PRO1SG-ELA “I feel good.”

tuntu-u hyvä-ltä. feel-3SG good-ABL

(13a) Tule-e kylmä. come-3SG cold “One/one of us feels cold.” (13b) Minu-lle tule-e kylmä. PRO1SG-ALL come-3SG cold “I am feeling cold.” The predicate verb in these expressions is invariably in the 3rd person singular form and the subject is missing. However, an argument in an oblique case is implied: in (10a) a genitive subject with a verb of necessity (cf. 10b), in (11a), a partitive experiencer object with a causative emotive verb (cf. 11b), and in (12a) and (13a), a locative experiencer with a verb or verb construction of feeling (cf. 12b and 13 b).6 All of these examples imply human and non-specific arguments that can be perceived as experiencers — all having the role implication of affectedness. The feature of affectedness is crucial for understanding the syntax and semantics of the zero-person constructions, even if we consider them on the basis of decontextual examples as we have thus far. A closer look at the examples above reveals that most start with a preverbal theme, a ‘space builder’(cf. 6

About Necessity Constructions with genitive subjects, see Laitinen 1995b and 1997, and for Experiencer Constructions with partitive objects, see Siiroinen 1996, 2003; cf. Sands and Campbell 2001.


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Fauconnier 1985): expression of time (2, 4, 6, 7), place (1, 11a), instrument or manner (8), or a goal (10a). As formulated by Vilkuna (1992), it is in fact the effect of this element on people that is generalized in zero-person constructions. Thus, the referent of the preverbal theme (in 11a: ‘a dark forest’) or its properties affect the person implied in a generic way: ‘a dark forest is such that it usually makes you afraid’. To put it in logical terms, this theme (a dark forest) forms the necessary or sufficient conditions for the process described (feeling frightened). The theme creates an intensional context where the human being is and reacting: ‘if you are in a dark forest, then you feel frightened’. By contrast, many examples do not contain any preverbal elements, such as examples (12a) and (13a) above, or example (14) with a genitive and (15–16) with a nominative subject. (14)

Täytyy harja-ta hampaa-t. must+3SG brush-INF teeth-PL “One/I/you must brush one’s/my/your teeth.”

(15)

Läht-isi-kö-hän go-COND+3SG-Q-CLT “Shoud I go to cinema?”

(16)

Ei saa tul-la sisään kengä-t jala-ssa. NEG+3SG may come-INF in shoe-PL foot-INE “You may not come in with shoes on; Don’t come in with your shoes on!”

elokuv-iin? movies-ILL

In such verb-initial clauses, the zero is usually interpreted to be one of the specific speech act participants. Thus, examples (12a) and (13a) are often perceived as having the same meanings ‘I feel good’and ‘I am cold’as (12b) and (13b). Example (14) can also be interpreted as referring to the actual speaker(s) in the same way as example 11b above (cf. 11a in which the referent is nonspecific). In (15), the zero seems to refer almost unambiguously to the speaker, in (16), in most cases to the addressee(s). In these cases, the actual speech situation constitutes the contextual conditions under which the zero argument finds its potential referents. Thus, the interpretations vary according to the actual contexts of use. In the next section, this ambiguity is studied in light of conversational data. 3.

The indexical reference of zero persons In the 1980s, when speech act pragmatics began to flourish, the use of zero-person constructions in Finnish were described as a way of avoiding personal reference, and it became popular to interpret this as a strategy of negative politeness. In other words, the use of these constructions was viewed as a Fin-

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nish way of avoiding subjectivity or personal involvement of the speech act participants, or referring to them in an indirect way (cf. Leinonen 1983, Hakulinen 1987). According to this, the actual speaker of an utterance containing zero-person constructions is trying to protect, especially in affective situations, her/his own face or that of her/his addressee. The picture seemed to fit only too well the stereotype of Finnish people as retiring, silent and unpretentious. Today, a linguistic form or lack of it is no longer supposed simply to project its motivation of use, not even in case of a transparent iconic form and meaning pair. The research on the pragmatic functions of grammar has rapidly gained ground in Finnish interactional linguistics in past ten years. Among other phenomena, the personal system has been analyzed by conversation analysts and others doing research on empirical data of spoken Finnish (see Hakulinen 2005 for references). For the zero-person construction, dialogical data were studied in 1995 by Laitinen (see 1996), who maintained its function to be precisely that of mediating subjectivity and personal involvement, which was later supported by the evidence of responses in an analysis by Sorjonen (see Sorjonen 2001:105, 112, 134–140). The fabricated examples in Section 2 revealed a type of co-referential relations between the zero person and speech act persons. Although it has no pronominal or nominal form, the zero person can be analyzed in the same way as personal pronouns and other shifters (Jakobson 1971), being simultaneously part of the ‘code’(the grammar of persons in Finnish) and of the ‘message’ (the participation framework in the speech act). In other words, the grammar of the zero person is a referential index, a sign of a human referent in the ongoing speech situation. (Cf. Silverstein 1976a, 1976b, 1987b.) At the same time, the indexical reference of the zero person is always open, i.e. non-specific, semantically a slot for multiple and distributional reference. My aim is to examine these seeming paradoxes. 3.1.

One place — multiple approaches As shown preliminarily in Section 2, the reference of a zero can be interpreted both as specific and as non-specific, depending on the contexts of use. Example (17) shows in practice how this happens — and how it actually can simultaneously be both specific and non-specific (i.e. intensional, open and multiple). In this conversation, three older persons (Otto, Henri and Kaisa) are speaking about the lapse of time: when a person is young, s/he waits for weekends, but after retirement, time goes by so quickly that Friday is always at hand. The speakers in question have used zero-person constructions and given minimal responses to convey this common experience. In the first lines (1–2) of example (17a), Otto summarizes the discussion by using a zero subject (note also the deictic täs ‘here’): one cannot say that life is tedious now. The predicate verbs of the zero subjects are indicated in bold:


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(17a) 1 Otto: mut että ei oikeastaav voi sano-o but that NEG+3SG in.fact can say-INF “But you can’t really say that 2

että that

täs pitkä-ks on toi aika, mitenkään käy-nny. here long-TRA is that time anyway become-PTCP it seems to have been that long anyway.”

3 Henri: nii:i. “Yeah” 4 Otto: nii. “Yeah” In the next turns, Kaisa and Otto give their interpretations of this common experience, again using zero-person constructions: (17b) 5 Kaisa: e:i, silloin kun alka-a pitkästyt-tään niin käy-p maate no then when begin-3SG make.tired-INF then lie-3SG down “No, when you begin to become bored, then you go lie down, 6

[(hehehehe) vetä-ä muutama-n tunni-n une-t ja taas] ((laughing)) take-3SG some-GEN hour-GEN nap-PL and again take a nap for a couple of hours, and again (you are not bored anymore).”

7 Otto: [jotain aina voi-p teh-äk-kin tälläse-s, something always can-3SG do-INF-CLT such-INE tälläse-s oma-, näin such-INE own so

möki-s,] cottage-INE

“You can always do something in this kind of cottage of your own 8

kerrostalo-i-s se on erikseen, siäl e-t voi naput-taa blocks-PL-INE it is different there NEG-2SG can tap-INF It’s different in an apartment building, in fact, you can’t even tap

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9

mitään oikiastaan mut täällä, tääl voi-p anything in.fact but here here can-3SG But here, here you can do anything,

jotain, something+PTV

10

täs ol-is aina vaikka kuinka pirusti homma-a mu, here be-COND+3SG always just how darned work-PTV but there’s always so much work to do here but

11

ei-hän si-t nyt kerra-llah mitäh t(h)eh-ä (hehehe). NEG-CLT it-PTV now once-ADE anything+PTV do-PASS you can’t do everything all at once, can you?”

In lines 6 and 7 both speakers, Otto and Kaisa, enter the place of zero almost simultaneously: as indicated by square brackets, their turns are partly overlapping. Practically, the approaches of Kaisa (lines 5–6) and Otto (lines 7–11) are, however, very different. If time seems to drag on for too long, Kaisa takes a nap, whereas Otto starts to do things in his cottage. Otto and Kaisa recognize themselves in the same generic situation explicated with an if–then frame that contains a sentient zero object of the causative verb pitkästyttää ‘make tired’(line 5): ‘when the zero person gets bored, s/he --’. To put it in semiotic terms of Peirce (1931), the zero subject is an iconic index: an empty place of the common experience, constructed for anyone to enter.7 As a matter of fact, the actual, concrete scene is also common for both speakers because they live in the same cottage. In this dialogue, they both construe the stage subjectively through the same glasses, to use the metaphor of Langacker (1991b:316): as conceptualizers of the situation, they leave themselves implicit, and this happens by means of zero person constructions. Still, they identify themselves with the zero person individually, yet in different ways. Unlike the Finnish passive, for which the implied agent is usually collective (line 11 in this example: ei tehä ‘is not done’; cf. Helasvuo, this volume), the zero person takes its referents distributively8 — if the speech act participants want to find themselves in it. 3.2.

A generic you — and the specific one in it On line 8 in example (17b), Otto used the 2nd pronoun singular form et voi ‘you cannot’instead of the zero person, co-referentially with zero forms on lines 7 and 9: voip ‘you can’. In this section, I will take a closer look at the relation of the open zero person to the generic 2nd person with an ‘attributive’ reference (cf. Donnellan 1966; Silverstein 1987a:32, Helasvuo and Laitinen, this volume). In colloquial Finnish, the use of the 2nd person singular (sinä, 7

More precicely, it is a diagrammatic index, manifested in grammar of the whole construction. Compare this difference between Finnish passive and zero constructions to the description of each and every by Langacker (1991:114–115). 8


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colloquially also sä, sie) instead of the generic zero is common, and people are well aware of its spread. This use can be seen as a result of influence from English. However, about one hundred years ago, the same phenomenon was commonplace in south-eastern Finnish dialects close to Russia as well, and recent data of generic 2nd persons from other dialects are found as well (see for instance extract 18).9 Unlike the use of the zero person, the generic 2nd person has no semantico-grammatical restrictions, described in Section 2. The generic 2 nd person can be more freely used with agentive and stative verbs, as well as to indicate objects and possessive forms. Perhaps due to this extensive usability, the occurrence of the generic 2nd person is even increasing in colloquial Finnish. Example (18) starts with an open zero-person construction. On line 4, a coreferential 2nd person singular pronoun is used as an object, and on line 6, another 2nd person singular pronoun, emphasized by stress, is used in a stative predication. It may be mentioned that neither of these speakers is a teacher. 10 (18) (from western dialects) 1 Eva: joo. Joo [ja siinä pitä-ä ol-las] sanavalamis, yeah yeah and there must-3SG be-INF quick.witted ”Yes, and you-Ø have to be quick-witted there” 2 Anna:

[semmos-ta jämekkyy-ttä] such-PTV assertiveness-PTV “and assertive”

3 Eva: [pistä-ät] takasi sitte kuitenki put-INF back then anyway “anyway, give as good as one gets”

että, sitte kuitenki that then anyway

että, that

4 Anna: [joo ] et ne kunnioitta-a sinu-a [et ne] huoma-a yeah that they respect-3SG you-PTV that they notice-3SG “yes, so that they will respect you-2 and notice” 5 Eva:

9

[mm] ‘um’

There is an interesting difference between the old and new generic ‘you’in Finnish. In eastern dialects, the generic 2nd person constructions lack a subject pronoun (Seppänen 2001; Hannele Forsberg, personal communication). By contrast, in the new generic use of 2 nd person, the pronoun is always present. This is called the sä-passive in ordinary language, and its use has been frequently commented on in public. The pronoun sinä in example (18) is recorded from a western dialect where it has the same form as in standard Finnish. 10 The subindex Ø indicates generic zeroes and the subindex 2 refers to the generic 2 nd person forms found in all translations of this section.

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6 Anna: et sinä oo-t tä-ssä talo-ssa pää. that you be-2SG this-INE house-INE head “that you-2 are the head in this house.” However, the use of the 2nd person with open reference often results in misunderstandings. By analyzing such data we may take advantage of another means of uncovering the character of zero as an indexical symbol, a place for both a non-specific and a specific addressee. In example (19), three students, Nina, Mary and Rick, are discussing ethical questions: is it sufficient that one takes responsibility for what one has done, or is it important that others approve of it, too? Both the specific and the generic 2nd person singular have been repeatedly used alternatively with the zero-person constructions in the conversation before this extract: (19) 1 Nina:sis tottakai täytyy niinku otta-am well of.course must+3SG like take-INF “Well, of course you-Ø have to like take 2

muit-tem miälipitee-t huamio-om others-GEN opinion-PL account-ILL the others’opinions into account but”

mut [kröhöm, höm] but ((coughing))

3 Rick: [e:i mutta siis mä tarkota-n] yleensä-ki no but well I mean-1SG generally-CL “No but, well, I mean so also in general: 4

voi-k-ko11 hyväksy-ä kaikki can-2SG-Q accept-INF all can you-2 accept – all your-2 deeds’

sillee että, so COMP

teko-si, act-2SGPX

5 Nina:[niim mut se on tärke-in-tä ] yes but it is important-SUP-PTV “Yes but the most important thing is –“ 6 Rick: [ihan sis katsom-, katso-ma-t], hei toki toki toki, ei, quite so looklook-INF-ABE hey surely surely surely no quite, you see, regard- regardless of, suuu-rely, no, you see

11

The reduced 2nd person form voikko comes from voi-t-ko [can-2SG-Q] through assimilation.


si-tä that-PTV

221

7

sis, mä en well I NEG+1SG I’m not denying

8

ett-ei-kö se o-is tärkee-tä, COMP-NEG-Q it be-COND+3SG important-PTV that it’s important, you see,

9

e-n-kä mä nyt osota henkilökohtasest su-lle mut NEG-1SG-CLT I now direct personally you-ALL but and I am not directing this personally at you-2 but this is just like

10

tää ov vaan niinku this is only like a general question ”

yleinen generic

kiistä, deny

sis, well

kysymys. question

11 Nina:mmm “yeah” 12 Rick: et voi-ko, hyväksy-äk kaikki teko-nsa, COMP can+3SG-Q accept-INF all acts-3PX “that can you-Ø approve of all that you-Ø have done, 13

sis katto-ma-tta ihan, ihan teko-on katso-ma-tta. so look-INF-ABE quite quite act-ILL look-INF-ABE you see, regardless of, just, just regardless of whatever it may be.”

14 Mary:ei, [ei-kä] ei-kä siis NEG+3SG NEG+3SG-CLT NEG+3SG-CLT well ”Well, no and ” 14 Nina:

[ei tiätenkää,] NEG+3SG of.course “Of course not”

15 Mary: piäk-kääh hyväksy-ä must-CLT accept-INF “ you-Ø don’t have to accept it at all.” In example (19), Nina uses the zero person on line 1 (‘you have to take the others’opinions account’), and right after that, on lines 3–4, Rick uses the 2nd person co-referentially with it (‘can you accept?’), and hints that he is speaking in general. However, Nina’s turn on line 5 (‘yes but… ’) and Rick’s turn on

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lines 6–9 (‘hey, surely… ’) show that the reference of the 2nd person constructions on line 3 has to be negotiated. Thus, on lines 6–10, Rick handles Nina’s turn as a misunderstanding: ‘I’m not directing this at you personally but this is, like, a generic question’. Consequently, in his next turn (line 12), he changes the 2nd person singular form (voikko ‘can you?’) to the 3rd person singular form with a zero subject (voiko ‘can one?’). By this operation, Rick makes sure that Nina can recognize the generic situation that is discussed, and that she can identify her own experience with it — that is, to enter into the intensional position of the zero as one of its potential referents. A personal pronoun with a specific reference cannot serve this function in place of multiple identifications, which is illustrated next. 3.3.

The subjective zero and the person objectified In the next extract (20), both 1st person singular pronouns (minä, in colloquial language also mä, mie, miä; mu-) and 2nd person pronouns (sinä, colloquially also sä, sie; su-) are used in the context of zero-person constructions. As pointed out by Silverstein (1976a), the 2nd person pronouns are indexically more creative, whereas the 1 st person pronouns are more presupposing in their relation to aspects of the speech-act context. This may be understood simply as illustrating how the use of ‘you’construes a participant role for the potential addressee(s), whereas ‘I’and ‘we’already imply the personal identity of the actual speaker. How is this difference reflected in contexts of open reference? In (20a), the same students Mary, Nina and Rick are discussing the relationship between the ‘real self’, or ‘the self of one’s own’— the ‘me’that I recognize — and the picture of myself that the others see. Can one in a crowd of people honestly be who one is, or is one always representing something else? In this excerpt, Mary does most of the talking whereas the others give only minimal responses. (20a) 1 Mary: niin, ei-ku si-tä miä ol-i-j just sano-ma-ssa yes no-but it-PTV I be-PST-1SG just say-INF-INE “Yes but what I was just saying was –“ 2 Rick: [niin] ”yes” 3 Mary: [että, et] ei-hän si-tä voi sano-o, COMP COMP NEG+3SG-CLT it-PTV can say-INF “that of course you-Ø can’t say”


223

4 Nina: [kröh höm] ((coughing)) 5 Mary: [loppu-j-el ] lopu-ksi jokanen-han on end-PL-GEN end-TRA everybody-CLT be+3SG “ after all people are

si-tä that-PTV

6

mi-tä on, sano-ta-a että, what-PTV be+3SG say-PASS-PERS that what they are, let’s say that

7

minä, esimerki-ks suure-ssa p-, ihmisjouko-ssa, I example-TRA big-INE crowd.of.people-INE for example I, in a big crowd of people

8

ni mu-l herä-ä aina semmose-t so 1SG-ADE wake-3SG always such-PL I always sense such, like,

9

hirvee-t varmistelureaktio-t ja semmose-t reaktio-t terrible-PL defence.reaction-PL and such-PL reaction-PL awful feelings of insecurity and

10

oikeastaan mitkä, niinku, et in.fact which like that in fact such reactions like that

11

mie niinkun, h:irvittävästi, I like awfully I am awfully, I am truly afraid

12

e-m NEG-1SG

niinku, niinku like like

oikeastip pelkää-n, really fear-1SG

mie nyt ninkur rehellisestis si-tä, välttämät I now like honestly that-PTVnecessarily

ite-lle-ni aina self-ADE-1SGPX always

myönnä, admit

I don’t always admit it, like, honestly to myself, necessarily 13

mut loppu-j-el lopu-ks, se but end-PL-GEN end-TRA it but after all, it is the fear

om pelko-a siitä, is fear-PTV it+ELA

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et itej joutu-u, naurunalase-ksi, COMP self+NOM get-3SG laughable-TRA that you-Ø yourself will be laughed at.”

As expected, the zero person is used by Mary in generic contexts (lines 3, 14), whereas the 1st person forms are used as specific, referring to the speaker herself (lines 1 and 7–12). Nevertheless, on line 7, she posits herself as an example (minä esimerkiks ‘I, for instance’), a potential referent for the zero person. Consequently, the zero subject follows in line 14: joutuu naurunalaiseksi ‘one becomes laughable, will be laughed at’. Despite its position as an example, the presupposed identity of the 1 st person pronoun remains specific. However, the choice of the bisyllabic standard form minä ‘I’(line 7) may be indicative here. When the speaker illustrates the behavior of this exemplified person in practice, she uses a colloquial variant mie (lines 11 and 12; miä on line 1). Interestingly enough, the speaker is not only admitting that the subject is afraid but also construing this syntactically as intentional behavior, not as an involuntary reaction. The emotional process of fearing can be expressed in Finnish either as something observed from the outside, such as fearful behavior, or something felt on the inside by the experiencer. The outside perspective is construed by verbs with experiencer subjects, and these are also considered to be more agentive than the experiencer objects of emotive verbs (cf. example 10 above).12 By selecting the verb pelätä ‘fear’with the experiencer subject mie ‘I’, Mary chooses the former possibility. On line 14 by contrast, the experience of an affected person in this generic situation is mediated with the zero-person construction that opens a site for identification or shared consciousness to the other participants. Nina responds to this by using a particle nii:i that carries two peaks (20b, line 15). This is a minimal response that, according to Sorjonen (2001:134–140), is used to indicate that the recipient recognizes the type of experience or feeling that has been conveyed by the zero-person construction, and affiliates with the speaker. After this, Mary shifts to 2nd person forms coreferential with the open zero (on lines 16–17). She thereby creates a dramatic situation in which a direct quotation is addressed to this generic person:

12 About stimulus and experiencer orientations, see Leinonen 1985, Croft 1990:219. The Finnish verb pelätä ‘to fear, to be afraid’is a transitive verb, and the referent of its subject is the one who fears. The causative emotive verb pelottaa ‘to frighten’with the experiencer object is used in Experiencer Constructions (Siiroinen 2003), a common context for zeroes. However, like agentive verbs, the verb pelätä also can have a zero subject under the conditions mentioned in Section 2.


225

(20b) 15 Nina: nii:i “yeah” 16 Mary:ja et se porukka osotta-a sinu-a niinku sorme-lla and that the crowd point-3SG you-PTV like finger-ADE “ and that the crowd is, like, pointing their finger at you-2, 17

et ha et @ sä [oo-t COMP ha COMP you be-2SG that hah that you-2 are stupid.”

18 Nina:

tyhmä, @] stupid

[et tuo on] nii, COMP that.one be+3SG so “That (is), that one is so… ”

Grammatically, the 2nd person pronoun used on line 17 (sä oot tyhmä) is obligatory. A zero-person construction (on tyhmä ‘one is stupid’) would be impossible here; as mentioned in Section 2, stative predications of zero subjects are restricted in particular contexts. The subject omission of non-third pronouns (e.g. oot tyhmä ‘you are stupid’) happens rarely in speech; it is common only in replies and requests, which is not the case here (Heinonen 1995; Helasvuo 2001:64–74¸ fn 9 above). Dropping out the explicit object ‘you’from line 16 (porukka osottaa ‘the crowd is pointing (at you)’) would be more plausible, although the goal of the pointing would remain rather unclear. Furthermore, the 2nd person pronoun on line 17 serves in an anaphoric function, referring to the zero person on line 14. Another point worth noticing here is that semantically, the referent of the zero person cannot be looked or pointed at by outsiders. The perspective of zero-person constructions is “from within”, from the experience of an affected person. Moreover, the zero is referentially a multiple person: an intensional entity to be identified with, not a certain individual to be pointed at. Introducing the 2nd person pronoun in the manner of lines 14–15 puts this non-specific person explicitly on stage — it objectifies the person to be observed (cf. Langacker 1991b). Nina’s turn (line 16) overlaps the quotation by Mary on line 15, as its paraphrase. 13 However, Nina replaces the pronoun sä ‘you’with a 3rd person form, which is the demonstrative pronoun tuo ‘that one’. This choice designs

13 The turn-intial particle et(tä) can be interpreted as prefacing paraphrases of something said earlier. Cf. Laury and Seppänen (2003).

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the referent all the more suitable to be pointed at.14 After that, Mary turns back to the zero context: (20c) 19 Mary:nii tai jo-taim mi-tä yes or something-PTV anything-PTV “Yes, or something else, whatever

muu-ta tahansa, else-PTV ever

20

ja mikä saa niinku and that make+3SG like and this makes somehow, like,

sit jollaillailla sillee then somehow so

21

et kaikki tuntoaisti-t sillee kamalan niinku valppaa-ks, that all sense.of.feeling-PL so terribly like watchful-TRA all your senses so terribly, like, sensitive,

22

ja, ja se on and and it be+3SG and this in fact is

23

si-tä mi-tä minä minä ole-n, sii-nä poruka-ssa, that-PTV what-PTV I I be-1SG that-ESS crowd-INE what I am in that crowd.”

oikeastaan in.fact

24 Mary:joo “yeah” 25 Nina: nii:: “yes” On line 21 above, a generic experiencer is pragmatically implicated, which is shown by your senses in the translation.15 Thereafter, on line 23, Mary refers to her observable behavior with a construction containing the 1 st person pronoun minä ‘I’, which interestingly again occurs in the standard form: ‘This, in fact, is 14 According to a study conducted by Seppänen, on the functions of 3rd person pronouns referring to co-participants in Finnish conversations, the pronoun tuo (colloquial toi) refers to a person who is present in the speech event but outside the indexical ground of participation (Seppänen 1998:81). “The use of tuo places the referent outside the speaker’s current sphere, and thus serves to define the speaker’s sphere.”(Laury 1997:59). 15 The status of a missing argument is here not as definite as for instance in Experiencer Constructions with emotive verbs. Still, an implied object person could maybe be postulated on lines 20–21: ‘this makes you somehow, like, having all feelings so terribly sensitive’. For similar vague zero object cases, cf. Sorjonen 2001:135–136.


227

what I am in that crowd’— that is: ‘this is how I seem in that crowd’. By changing the pronoun, the speaker changes her footing again. The subject of the utterance is now the object of the others’observation: a fearful young woman, objectified on stage explicitly by the personal pronoun. Thereby, the person has found a figure and boundaries — one, simple identity. 3.4.

I, Zero and Self in the same body The speech act pronouns contrast with the zero person in a very subtle way, outlined above by means of examples (17)–(20). Although the personal pronouns are, in the standard use, transparent metapragmatic categories 16, they have other indexical functions that overlap with the use of zero persons. One remaining point calls for a careful analysis but can only be mentioned here: the relationship of the word itse ‘self’to zero and speech-act persons. As seen in example (5a), the zero subject is able to bind 3rd person reflexives (cf. Vilkuna 1989:48). In (20a), repeated here as (21), Mary uses the reflexive pronoun bound by the 1 st person subject, in a colloquial form ite: ‘I don’t admit it to myself’. On the next line, she uses an instance of ite in a zeroperson construction: ‘it is the fear that you yourself will be laughed at’: (21) 12

e-m NEG-1SG

mie nyt ninkur rehellisestis si-tä, välttämät I now like honestly that-PTVnecessarily

ite-lle-ni aina self-ADE-1SGPX always

myönnä, admit

“I don’t always admit it, like, honestly to myself, necessarily 13

mut loppu-j-el lopu-ks, se but end-PL-GEN end-TRA it but after all, it is the fear

om pelko-a siitä, is fear-PTV it+ELA

14

et itej joutu-u, naurunalase-ksi, COMP self+NOM get-3SG laughable-TRA that you-Ø yourself will be laughed at.”

The latter, uninflected word itse ‘self’(in the form ite in (21)) is not a real reflexive pronoun.17 Instead, according to Hakulinen (1982), itse is grammaticalizing to a particle expressing the speaker’s personal involvement in the situa16 The personal pronouns index unavoidably their denotata, speech act participants, and at the same time, their very form is a signal that refers to what is indexed (Silverstein 1987b:161182). 17 In this use, itse has been called an indefinite pronoun by Finnish linguists.

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tion described (cf. König and Siemund 1987). Since it occurs preverbally in the place of the zero subject in this example, itse is almost like a nominative subject of the verb joutua (‘end up’) — a substantiated zero, the “real self”of the speaker.18 In the next example (22), the relation between the zero subject or personal pronoun minä ‘I’(colloquial mä, in genitive mun) and the substantive itse ‘self’(colloquial itte) is even delineated. This extract is from the same data context as example (19), where the students are talking about taking responsibility for one’s own acts: (22) 1 Rick: tarvitse-e-ko hyväksy-y, tarvitse-e-ko hyväksy-y need-3SG-Q accept-INF need-3SG-Q accept-INF “Need one take the responsibility, need one take the responsibility?” 2 Nina: kyl mu-n ainaki yes I-GEN at.least “Well, at least I have to”

täytyy must+3SG

3 Mary: mut ei [ka-] but NEG+3SG “But not --“ 4 Nina:

[koska] mä e-n pysty elään itte-ni kans because I NEG-1SG can live+INF self-1SGPX with “Because I cannot live with myself

5

mä kuitenki oo-n itte-ni 1SG still be-1SG self-1SGPX Anyway, I live with myself, like,

kanssa with

6

sama-ssa ruumii-ssa same-INE body-INE in the same body,

7

sillee me liiku-ta-a aina niinku so we move-PASS-PERS always like so that we are always moving, like, together”

niinku like

kimpa-ssa. group-INE

As shown already in several examples above, the open place of the zero person can be filled with personal pronouns by speech act participants if they recog18 The reflexive pronoun itse comes etymologically from a Uralic word denoting ’shadow; soul’. See e.g. Koivisto 1995.


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nize the experience of affectedness in generic situations and are willing to share it.19 This is exactly what happens here. In example (22), Rick asks an ethical question containing a zero-person construction of necessity (line 1); Nina enters the empty place referring to herself with the 1st person pronoun. Lines 4–6 describe the substantivized Self interacting with the speaker as a different person in her body (cf. Foley 1997:262–264). This reified entity takes the form of a Noun Phrase — as a moral subject, the conscience, a desiring subject, or as one’s personal passions. This is perhaps the intensional area where the zero person is located and can be recognized. 4.

Discussion The so-called zero persons in Finnish have been characterized as being capable both of referring generically to human beings and specifically to speech act participants. In Section 3 of this paper, examples from empirical data have illustrated how this double-bind meaning is negotiated and understood in interaction. The reference of the zero person as a human being sharing a common human experience is both presupposed and created in the speech act. At least to that extent it can be interpreted as being parallel with personal pronouns that get their reference indexically. To use Benveniste’s (1971:224) classical formulation of semiotic subjectivity, “ego”is the one that says “ego”— in other words, one constitutes oneself as an individual person, ‘a subject’, by identifying with the pronoun in the symbolic order of language. The identity of a speech act participant is posited in and through language, that is, in a speech event using the linguistic code. Similarly, expressing itself in grammatical constructions, the zero person belongs to the decontextual linguistic code; on the other hand, it has potential referent(s) in the ongoing speech event. Because of this two-fold nature, it could be posited in the hierarchy of Noun Phrase categories, arranged by Silverstein (1976) on the basis of a multilingual corpus. In this referential ‘space’ of NP types, the order of elements is organized according to case marking patterns of core arguments of the clause. 20 It is the most indexical end of the cline that coincides cross-linguistically with the nominative-accusative pattern — the one that is also working in zero-person constructions (as shown in Section 2, example 5b). In this respect as well, the zero person would take

19 Of course, simply filling the zero with speech-act pronouns is not what happens; the pronouns trigger the verbal agreement, or the category of person is coded merely in verb by 1 st or 2nd person suffixes. 20 See also Helasvuo and Laitinen, this volume. For an exegesis of the hierarchy with a twodimensional figure of the referential space of NP types, see Silverstein 1981, 1987a and 1987b. In linguistic literature, it is widely but somewhat inaccurately known as the “hierarchy of agentivity”of Noun Phrases.

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its place in the hierarchy among the true speech act indexicals together with personal pronouns. 21 From the formal point of view, such parallelism seems incomplete, because the zero person is not coded by local, segmentable linguistic forms like pronouns and personal suffixes but more globally by morphosyntactic means. Actually, the local and global principles correspond and interact, for instance, when relative case relations are coded in complex and compound sentences, or sameness or distinctness of reference is coded in discourse-level structures. In such global configurations, the non-occurrence of NPs (e.g. anaphors) is frequent (Silverstein 1981:230–231, 1987b:132–133). Nevertheless, the zero person in Finnish is neither an anaphoric nor a ‘deleted’linguistic entity (see Helasvuo and Laitinen, this volume). Within its own constructional schemata, it functions like an existing core argument at the clause level. As seen in Section 3, the zero person finds a referent in the immediate speech context if someone of the participants identifies with it. This openness, non-specificity and potentiality of indexical reference makes it basically dissimilar to personal pronouns. However, in our examples (18–20), the relation of specific and non-specific reference proved to be a scale rather than a dichotomy. Alongside their ordinary specific personal reference, both 1st and 2nd person pronouns were construed in more ways than one, and they were also able to express open human reference. Thus, the zero persons and speech act pronouns do have some overlapping usages in creating non-specific reference, at least in spoken Finnish. A proper generic use of the 1 st person singular forms is rare, probably due to its presupposing indexicality. Even so, there seemed to be a continuum from a more specific to a more open reference of the 1 st person singular pronoun, which also seemed to be reflected in the choice of its variants (in example 20). By contrast, a generic use of the 2nd person singular form is increasing in Finnish, perhaps because it has no such syntactic restrictions as the zero person. But then (as seen in example 19), in performing explicitly the addressee role in the speech situation, the 2nd person tends to produce such misunderstandings in reference that do not arise as easily in zero-person constructions. Perhaps the most crucial difference between the zero and speech act persons lies, after all, in the manner they construe the situation in terms of choosing their perspective on the scene invoked. As shown by example (20b), the referents of the 2nd and 1st person pronouns are able to be observed and even pointed at, even if they are interpreted as referentially open or generic. This phenomenon has been analyzed by Langacker through the subjectivist theory of meaning that was touched upon in subsections 3.1. and 3.3. When the non-specific persons are put onstage as bounded entities in an explicit pronoun form, they are conceptualized more objectively than zero persons (cf. 21 Interestingly enough, at the top of indexicals in the cross-linguistic corpus of Silverstein are the dual (and/or plural) 1st and 2nd persons, referring to both interactional participants.


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Langacker 1991b:497–498). Leaving the experiencer of the situation implicit, the zero-person construction creates a subjective conceptualization of experience, seen through the eyes of an invisible speaker. Paradoxically, the above-mentioned concept of subjectivity by Benveniste corresponds to the concept of objectivity in Langacker’s analysis. Both of them yet describe the same process. The ‘speaking subject’, identifying with a personal pronoun in use, posits — or objectifies — his or her personal identity and its boundaries. The indexical identification evoked by the zero person is a different linguistic process of subjectification. The zero-person construction in Finnish grammar mediates human experiences to be individually recognized by all of speech act participants. Performing a grammatically iconic schema, it creates an open place of person, for anyone to enter.

PASSIVE — PERSONAL OR IMPERSONAL? A FINNISH PERSPECTIVE

MARJA-LIISA HELASVUO University of Turku

1.

Introduction This paper deals with passive constructions in Finnish, i.e. constructions containing a verb form bearing passive morphology. 1 Examples (1) and (2) illustrate these constructions, with vietiin ‘was taken’and on viety / oli viety ‘has been taken / had been taken’as the passive forms. In the examples, the passive forms are given in bold face. (1) (Apporra, slightly modified) 2 Hilkka vie-t-i-in sairaala-an. H.+NOM take-PASS-PST-PERS hospital-ILL “Hilkka was taken to the hospital.” (2a)

Hilkka on vie-ty sairaala-an. H.+NOM be+3SG take-PASS+PST+PTCP hospital-ILL “Hilkka has been taken to the hospital.”

(2b)

Hilkka ol-i vie-ty sairaala-an. H.+NOM be-PST+3SG take-PASS+PST+PTCP hospital-ILL “Hilkka had been taken to the hospital.”

It has been customary in Finnish linguistics to analyze examples like (1) as representing the passive construction type in Finnish, and examples like (2a) and (2b) as representing this same construction type as inflected in the peri1 I am grateful to Lyle Campbell, Marja Etelämäki, Lea Laitinen and Susanna Shore for insightful comments and criticisms. I would like to thank Lea Laitinen for inspiring discussions on indexicality and subjectivity. I dedicate this article to her on the occasion of her birthday. 2 This example is from the Apporra conversation (introduced in Section 2, below) but has been slightly modified for clarity. (2a) and (2b) are fabricated examples providing easy comparison with (1).

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phrastic tenses, the present perfect (2a) and the past perfect (2b). In (1), which illustrates the simple passive, the predicate verb consists of the verb stem vie‘take’, the passive morpheme -t-, the past tense marker -i- and a special passive personal ending -Vn (discussed in detail below). The argument expressing the goal of the action, Hilkka, is in the preverbal theme position typical of subjects (cf. Vilkuna 1989) and it stands in the nominative case. Although it is in the nominative case (unmarked), it does not trigger person or number agreement with the verb as subjects do in Finnish, but instead the verb contains a special person-marking suffix that is only used in conjunction with the passive suffix. Therefore, Finnish linguists consider the goal argument to be an object, and not a subject. In examples (2a) and (2b), which illustrate the be-passive, the predicate verbs consist of two parts, the 3rd person singular form of the verb olla ‘to be’(on ‘is’or oli ‘was’), used as an auxiliary, and the main verb viedä ‘take’in its passive participial form, viety. Again the argument expressing the goal is in the nominative case. Examples (1–2) clearly illustrate the traditional conception of the passive inflectional paradigm within Finnish linguistics. This paper shows, however, that the construction types illustrated in (1) (the simple passive) and with (2a and b) (the be-passive) differ in several respects, both in terms of their relation to the expression of person and in their patterns of usage. In typology textbooks, if the Finnish passive is mentioned at all, reference is made only to passives of the simple passive type (cf. e.g. Foley and Van Valin 1984:149–169). Comrie (1977) discusses the Finnish passive — i.e., the simple passive — as one example of an impersonal passive (cf. also Sands & Campbell 2001). Here, the term impersonal is used to convey that the agent if non-specific, i.e. it has no overt expression or a specific referent. Blevins (2003) goes even further, rejecting the treatment of the Finnish passive as a passive; instead, he suggests that it should be analyzed as an impersonal as opposed to a passive construction. He bases his argument on the fact that the Finnish passive is subjectless, as no other argument takes the place of the suppressed subject. According to him, impersonal verb forms are insensitive to the argument structure of the verb. However, as shown above, the object of a passive clause does exhibit features typical of subjects of active clauses (case marking, word order). Therefore I find it rather an unfortunate terminological choice to call the Finnish passive impersonal. Instead, I argue that the passive is part of the personal system in Finnish; in other words, it belongs to a system that serves to express the discourse roles of the participants (such as speaker, recipient, and the party talked about; see Siewierska 2004:1). Foley and Van Valin (1984:160) describe the Finnish passive as backgrounding: in a passive sentence in Finnish, the first argument of the verb (the pivot in Foley and Van Valin’s terminology) is backgrounded and no other argument assumes subject marking. In contrast with an active construction, the Finnish passive has no subject, and cannot express the agent with an independ-

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ent constituent (such as the English by-phrase). It is important to note, however, that the passive is not the only subjectless construction in Finnish but rather, one of many. In the other subjectless clause types, the finite verb is conjugated for 3rd person (usually in the singular). I demonstrate below that although there is no overtly expressed agent argument in the simple passive, this construction is overwhelmingly used in contexts where a human agent is implied in the action or activity described. I show that the simple passive is part of the grammatical person system in Finnish, i.e. it belongs to the set of morphological means for marking personal reference in Finnish. I further show that the relationship of the be-passive to this person system is different than that of the simple passive (for an overview of the person system in Finnish, see Helasvuo & Laitinen, this volume). I also discuss the implications for the treatment of constructions with open reference forms — the so-called “impersonal”constructions — in languages in general. The focus of this paper is on the ways in which these two passive constructions are used in conversation. First, I introduce my data. Then I discuss the two types of passive, outlining their characteristic features. I then describe how the passive is exploited to create and maintain personal reference in Finnish. I show that the two passives function quite differently in this respect. I further show that contrary to the received view in Finnish linguistics, they belong to different tense paradigms. 2.

Data The data for this study come from three conversations between native speakers of Finnish, together amounting to approx. 1,5 hours, containing some 250 passive forms. In the APPORRA conversation a father and his adult daughter are having tea and discussing fishing, mushroom picking and other recreational activities. In the DIABLO conversation three male senior high school students are sitting in the students’common room at school and discussing a computer game called Diablo. 3 They are also gossiping about their classmates and girl friends. The VAPPU conversation takes place during a meeting of a student association. The meeting has an agenda and is chaired, but the chair does not allocate turns and the conversation is quite free. There are 12 participants and at certain points there are several conversations going on at the same time. Topics include the forthcoming May Day (Vappu) celebrations and the writing of a newsletter. The conversations were transcribed by Emmi Hynönen, and the tapes belong to the archive of spoken Finnish at the University of Turku. 3 I gratefully acknowledge the generous help of Tom Grönholm, Otso Helasvuo, and Paul McIlvenny in explaining the intricacies of the game of Diablo.


236 3.

The Finnish passive — one or many? In what follows, I argue that instead of just one, there are two passives in Finnish, the simple passive and the be-passive, and that they belong to two different passive types that have been distinguished in the typological literature (see e.g. Givón 1990, 1994). I further show that these two types differ in their relation to the Finnish system of marking grammatical person. 3.1.

The simple passive Of the two Finnish passives, the simple passive (as (1)) belongs to a type of passive that in numerous languages developed from reflexive constructions, whereas the be-passive is of the copula + adjective type (see Givón 1990). In this section I discuss the origins of the Finnish passive marker and the morphological composition of the simple passive. I also define the role of the simple passive in the person system of Finnish. This section closes with a discussion of the simple passive in relation to the tense system in Finnish. The morphology of the simple passive form is illustrated in (3); the passive past tense form of the verb katsoa ‘look’is used as an example. (3)

katso verb stem

-tt -i -passive marker -tense marker

-in -personal suffix

In addition to the passive marker and the tense marker, there is a suffix -Vn (lengthening of the final vowel + n) in the morphotactic slot for personal endings.4 This person marking has the same origin as the 3rd person singular pronoun hän ‘he/she’and the 3rd person marker of reflexive inflection in certain dialects of Finnish (Hakulinen 1979:240; for discussions of the history and origin of the Finnish passive marker, see Posti 1945 and Lehtinen 1984). In Finnish linguistics, the passive person marker has been called the “4th person”(Tuomikoski 1971). This is an odd term but it reflects the special position of the simple passive in the person system in Finnish (see Table 1); again, the verb katsoa ‘look’is used as an example. It is important to note that only the simple passive can be described as “the 4th person”, whereas the be-passive takes a regular 3rd person verb form.

4 The form of the passive marker varies depending on the morphophonological context. In the present tense, it is -TA- where the T is realized either as -d-, -t-, or –tt-, and the A as -a- or -ä-, depending on vowel harmony. In the past tense, the A disappears in front of the tense marker -i-. As the careful reader may note, the passive forms differ slightly from the standard in the examples from the Diablo conversation. The participants are speakers of a dialect of Finnish in which there is an -h- between the passive marker and the personal suffix, cf. e.g. pela-ta-han (in the South Ostrobothnian dialect) vs. pela-ta-an [play-PASS-PERS] in the standard.


237

Singular [stem+person marker] Person active 1st person active 2nd person active 3rd person passive (“4th person”)

katso-n katso-t katso-o

Plural [stem (+passive marker)+ person marker] standard Finnish colloquial Finnish katso-mme katso-ta-an katso-tte katso-tte katso-vat katso-o katso-ta-an

Table 1: Verbal person marking in Finnish (adapted from Helasvuo 2001:67). We see from Table (1) that unlike the active forms, the simple passive does not distinguish morphologically between singular and plural number. In the colloquial language the number distinction is often neutralized in the 3 rd person as well; thus, most often we find that a 3rd person plural subject combines with a 3rd person singular verb form. Hakulinen and Karlsson (1979:252) describe the 3rd person singular as the unmarked member of the (verbal) personal paradigm; it is also the verb form that is used in clauses with sentential or infinitival subjects. As mentioned above, there are several subjectless clause types in Finnish. In these clauses, the finite verb is either in the 3rd person singular (e.g. in predications describing the weather, such as sataa [rain-3SG] ‘it is raining’) or in the passive. Table (1) also shows that in the colloquial language, the passive form is used with 1st person plural subjects, in place of the standard 1st person plural verb. In spoken discourse it is quite common to have this 1st person plural subject + passive construction alternating with a plain passive (without the pronominal subject; see (12) and (13) below). It is interesting to note that the combination of the 1st person plural subject with the passive verb form is not the only instance in the Finnish person system where there is a mismatch between the nominal and verbal person marking (see Nirvi 1947 for examples from nonstandard Finnish, and Helasvuo and Laitinen (this volume)). Perhaps in contrast to the passive structures of a number of languages, the Finnish passive is almost exclusively used in contexts where a human agent is implied (for a usage-based account of the Finnish passive in both written and spoken genres, see Shore 1986, 1988). Examples (4a) and (4b) illustrate that the implied agent can either include (in 4a) or exclude (as in 4b) the speaker. It has to be inferred from context what the referent of the implied person is. Note that in the translations (3rd line) of all examples cited below, those pronominal reference forms which are not present in the Finnish original are marked by double parentheses to highlight the fact that there is no corresponding form in the Finnish.

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(4a) Vappu Mirjami: mi-hin aika-an täältä lähde-tä-än sitte, what-ILL time-ILL from.here go-PASS-PERS then “So when do ((we)) leave from here?” (4b) Diablo Santeri: tänne piste-tä-än kaikki rauhattoma-t oppilaa-t to.here put-PASS-PERS all restless-PL student-PL “((They)) put all the restless students here.” The context for (4a) is that university students are planning the official May Day celebrations, in which representatives of all the student associations meet in a park in the center of the city. One of the participants in the meeting asks when they should leave for the park and uses the passive form to refer to herself and the co-participants. In (4b) three high school students are sitting in a common room at their school discussing what the original purpose of the room was. It is quite clear that the participants are excluded from the personal reference of the verb pistetään ‘put-PASS’— it was not they themselves who decided to put all restless students in that room. The reference, however, is not morphologically explicated but has to be construed from context. Both examples (4a) and (4b) contain the same form, the simple passive, but the reference is construed differently in each example — including the present speaker in (4a) and excluding the speaker in (4b). Furthermore, in a different context the same sentences could be interpreted vice versa: e.g. if the sentence in (4a) was said in a context where the participants were looking at a map trying to coordinate a big event, somebody could ask, pointing to a place on the map, mihin aikaan täältä lähdetään? ‘when do ((they)) leave from here?’and the reference could be interpreted as excluding the speaker. Likewise, if (4b) was uttered in a context where the principal of a school was giving a tour around the school to a prospective teacher, the reference could be interpreted as including the speaker. Thus, the reference of the passive form is construed differently in different contexts. As Shore (1986:69) notes, the Finnish passive cannot be used to describe processes or states without an agent (cf. the English example 5a). (5a) (From Shore 1986:69) He was caught in a traffic jam. (5b) (Fabricated example) Hän juutt-u-i liikenneruuhka-an. 3SG be.stuck-REFL-PST+3SG traffic.jam-ILL “He was caught in a traffic jam.”


239

In the expression of processes like (5a) Finnish makes use of various medial constructions, such as (5b), which contains the verb juuttua ‘be stuck’, having a medial meaning and a reflexive derivational suffix -u-. The simple passive can be inflected in the present and the past perfect as shown in (6). (6) Diablo 1 Ben: mä aattel-i-n et I think-PST-1SG COMP “I thought that 2

jos verko-s ol-ta-is pela-ttu, if network-INE be-PASS-COND+PERS play-PASS+PTCP if ((we)) had played in the LAN (LAN = local area network),

3

niin vihollise-t-ki loppu-u kesken so enemy-PL-CLT end-3SG in.the.middle there wouldn’t be enough enemies (lit. the enemies would come to an end in the middle of the game, i.e. before it is finished).”

In (6) line 2 oltais pelattu is a past perfect passive conditional form of the verb pelata ‘play’(pelattaisiin would be the corresponding present tense passive form). Formally the present perfect and the past perfect forms of the simple passive consist of the auxiliary be in the passive form (ollaan in the present and oltiin in the past perfect) and the main verb in the passive participial form (e.g. pelattu). Thus, there is passive marking on both the auxiliary and the participle, and in addition to the passive marker the auxiliary carries the special passive person marker (the 4th person marker). Because of this double marking, this construction is frequently called the “double passive”. It has been strictly proscribed by normative grammars (see Lyytikäinen 1996 for discussion). Hakulinen et al. (2004:1235) suggest that the double marking should be considered as an agreement phenomenon. Note that this would then be agreement according to voice; in this perspective, the be-passive is an incongruous form where the auxiliary is in the active 3rd person form and the main verb is in the passive. In Finnish linguistics, the simple passive and the be-passive have been considered to represent the same passive construction in different tenses: the simple passive represents the present tense and the simple past, whereas the bepassive represents the periphrastic tenses, i.e. the present and past perfects. As I have shown, however, the simple passive has its own tense paradigm in which the present and the past perfect are formed with passive marking both on the auxiliary (ollaan ~oltiin) and the participle (-(t)tU; cf. ex. 6 above). Furthermore, the two passives differ in their relation to the person system: as has been shown here, the simple passive has a special position in the verbal person

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marking system and has been characterized as the 4th person. As will be seen in the next section, the be-passive is a 3rd person form. Thus, in their relation to the category of person, the two passive types belong to different paradigms. The simple passive thus occupies a special position in the personal system in Finnish. It differs from the be-passive, in which the finite verb is in a regular 3rd person form, as discussed below. I have shown here that, contrary to the received view in Finnish linguistics, the two passives do not represent merely different tenses of the same construction, but instead, the simple passive forms a distinct paradigm from the be-passive. 3.2.

The be-passive In this section, I consider the morphosyntactic structure of the be-passive, comparing it to the structure of predicate adjective clauses. I also discuss certain parallels in the usage of the be-passive and predicate adjective clauses. The Finnish be-passive (e.g. on ~ oli viety ‘has been ~ had been taken’) could be classified as the copula + adjective type in Givón’s (1990) typology of passives. The Finnish construction consists of the verb ‘to be’in its 3 rd person form on (‘is’, present tense) or oli (‘was’, past tense) and the past passive participle form of the main verb, e.g. viety ‘taken’. In this construction, the verb ‘be’could be analyzed either as an auxiliary or a copula; the two cannot be distinguished grammatically in Finnish. Example (7) illustrates the morphosyntactic parallels between the bepassive and predicate adjective clauses. It also reveals parallels in patterns of usage between the two constructions. In this example, Jukka, the father, is discussing with his daughter Mirja what kind of a dog he would choose if he were to buy one. (7) Apporra 1 Jukka: ehkä mä ole-n sano-nu to-n (0.2) irlanninsetteri-n perhaps I be-1SG say-PST+PTCP that-ACC Irish Setter-ACC “perhaps I’ve mentioned this (0.2) Irish Setter 2

(.) se on nätti ja se on kiva (0.2) it be+3SG pretty and it be+3SG nice (.) it is pretty and it is nice (0.2)

3

se on mu-n miele-stä vähä yli-jaloste-ttu. it be+3SG I-GEN mind-ELA little over-breed-PASS+PST+PTCP it is in my view a little overbred.”


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4 Mirja: hermostu-nu vai, become.nervous-ACT+PST+PTCP or “nervous you mean,” In the example Jukka considers the pros and cons of the specific breed that he has been considering, the Irish Setter. He describes it with predicate adjective clauses in line 2 se on nätti ‘it is pretty’and se on kiva ‘it is nice’, and in line 3, with the be-passive se on -- ylijalostettu ‘it is -- overbred’. It is noteworthy that the be-passive alternates with predicate adjective clauses when characterizing this breed of dogs. Note also that the co-participant Mirja offers a candidate understanding of Jukka’s turn in line 4 with a participial form hermostunu, which means ‘nervous’, and is the past active participle of the verb hermostua ‘become nervous’. It is used as an adjective (like adjectives, it has comparative and superlative forms: hermostunut : hermostunee-mpi : hermostune-in ‘nervous : more nervous : most nervous’). Participles are a common source for adjectives in Finnish, and there seems to be a continuum from pure adjectives, having comparatives and taking adjectival modifiers, to pure participles, with no comparatives and taking verbal modifiers (see Koivisto 1987 for an extensive study of adjectives having a participial source in Finnish). When comparing the morphological glosses of lines 2 and 3 in (7) we see that the two constructions are very much alike. First there is the nominative NP, then the be-verb (copula/auxiliary) showing the same number and person as the NP (3rd person singular), and then the predicate adjective or the participle. However, if we look at other persons in the paradigm, we see some differences. These are presented in Tables 2 and 3. Comparing Tables 2 and 3 (p. 242) we can see that in the be-passive, the preverbal NP does not trigger person agreement in the verb but instead the verb is always in the 3rd person singular. The preverbal NP follows the case marking patterns of objects in clauses without a nominative subject: if the NP is a personal pronoun it takes a special accusative marker (-t); otherwise the NP is in the nominative (or the partitive) case. (For a discussion of object case marking in Finnish, see Helasvuo 2001.) Interestingly, this difference between the two constructions seems to be a rather late development. According to Häkkinen (1994:252), in old Finnish literary texts be-verbs with the passive participle showed agreement in person and often also in number with the preverbal NP. In other words, the be-passive constructions and predicate adjective clauses then had an identical structure. Setälä (1915:135) proposed that the past passive participle did not originally belong to the passive paradigm at all, but instead was used to express the result of the activity described by the verb. It is not surprising then that the passive participles are used not only in the be-passive, but in a wide variety of constructions, inter alia, as modifiers in NPs (8a) or in various participial constructions (8b).

242 Syntactic function Morphological marking Examples -Personal pronouns -Other NPs


Subject

Copula olla ‘be’ nominative person + number agreement sä ole-t 2SG+NOM be-2SG se on 3SG+NOM be+3SG

Predicate adj. nominative/ partitive kiva nice+NOM kiva nice+NOM

Translations

‘you are nice’ ‘it is nice’

Table 2: Predicate adjective clauses

Syntactic function

Object

(Aux) Participle olla ‘be’

Morphological marking -Pers. pron. accusative -Other NPs nominative Examples -Pers. pron. minu-t 1SG-ACC -Other NPs se 3SG+NOM

3rd sg 3rd sg on be+3SG on be+3SG

nominative nominative viety take-PASS+PST+PTCP viety take-PASS+PST+PTCP

Translations

‘I have been taken’ ‘it has been taken’

Table 3: Be-passive

(8a) Apporra Mirja: to-mmose-t pitkä-än jaloste-tu-t rodu-t that-ADJ-PL long-ILL cultivate-PASS+PST+PTCP-PL breed-PL “those long refined breeds” (8b) Diablo Santeri: sitte sa-i-n ne tape-ttu-a then get-PST-1SG 3PL kill-PASS+PST+PTCP-PTV “then I managed to kill them [in the computer game]” (8a) consists of an NP where the passive participle jalostetut ‘bred’functions as a modifier that modifies rodut ‘breeds, races’. In Finnish most modifiers agree with their heads in case and in number, and this is why the participle is inflected in the nominative plural, like the head of the NP rodut ‘breeds’. In (8b) the participle forms a special construction with the verb saada ‘get/receive’; the construction has the meaning of managing to or being able to carry out the activity expressed by the verb in the past passive participle. In this construction the participle carries an active meaning in spite of its formal pas-


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sive marking (it has the same agent as the activity expressed by the main verb sain). It is interesting to compare the be-passive to the French construction with the third person pronoun on and a third person verb form. Similar to the passive constructions in Finnish, the French construction can be used for open, non-specific reference: it has to be inferred from the context what the construction refers to. The form is a 3rd person form as is the be-passive in Finnish. (For further discussion, see Helasvuo and Johansson forthcoming.) 4.

Patterns of use I begin this section with the discourse functions of the simple passive, which is shown to have a distinct discourse profile in the data described. In contrast, the be-passive will be seen to lack such a clear profile. I then demonstrate the ways in which the availability of these two passives can be exploited in creating and maintaining personal reference in Finnish. The two types will be seen to function quite differently in this respect. 4.1.

The simple passive in describing actions and activities The simple passive construction is primarily used for describing actions or activities. In the data for this study, 153 out of 155 simple passive constructions contain action or activity verbs. Example (9) illustrates this overwhelming tendency. The speakers are discussing what they should do in the summer (the recording having been made during the last weeks of school in the spring). (9) Diablo 1 Ben:

meirä-n pitää käy-rä se kaiverrus siellä teke-mä-hän we-GEN must go-INF it inscription there make-INF-ILL loppu-hun sitte. end-ILL then “we have to go and finish the inscription there then.”

2 Mikko: joo: kyl [lä] yeah sure “yeah sure” 3 Santeri:

[se] tul-la-an sitte vasta loppu-matka-lla. it come-PASS-PERS then only end-trip-ADE “((we)) will come back for that on our way back.”


244

4 Mikko: ei ku käy- käy-rä-hän nyt, (.) vaikka heti no but g- go-PASS-PERS now for.instance at.once “no no let’s g- go now, (.) for instance 5

k- kesä-loma-n aluu-ks käy-rä-än si-, s- summer-vacation-GEN start-TRA go-PASS-PERS right at the beginning of s- summer vacation let’s go ther-,

6

men-nä-hän par- viikok- viikonlopu-ks sinne (.) Alajärve-lle, go-PASS-PERS coup- week- weekend-TRA there A.-ALL let’s go for a coup- weeks- for a weekend there (.) to Alajärvi,

7

(.) ryypä-tä-hän siel aivan henki pois .hh drink-PASS-PERS there quite life away .hh (.) let’s drink ourselves to death there. .hh”

8 Santeri: niin-pä. so-CLT “Right.” 9 Mikko: sit tul-la-an kotia, then come-PASS-PERS home “then ((we)) come home, 10

ja ol-la-han täällä koto-na viikko and be-PASS-PERS here home-ESS week and ((we)) are here at home for a week

11

ja sit lähre-tä-än sinne (.) Affenanmaa-lle. and then go-PASS-PERS there A.-ALL and then ((we)) go to Ahvenanmaa.”

Example (9) contains several clauses with simple passives (lines 3 7, 9, 11). They are all describing actions or activities. Note also that in the present tense, especially when clause-initial, the simple passive may have a hortative interpretation (e.g. line 6 mennään ‘let’s go’; cf. the discussion in Section 3.2 on the use of the passive with 1st person plural pronoun for 1st person plural reference). There is one exceptional case: the simple passive construction in line 10 describes a state (it is one of the only two examples of the simple passive in these data which express stative descriptions). Even here, the state is referred to within a lengthy discussion over the question of what they should do during their summer vacation, and so this state could be understood as a bounded activity in between other activities.


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Thus, the simple passive shows a distinct discourse profile with a clear preference for a particular verb class, namely activity verbs. It should be noted that this is not a paradigmatic restriction, since it is possible to form simple passives of stative verbs, but that is simply not done much in ordinary conversation. However, it is impossible to form passives from verbs of necessity (e.g. the verb pitää ‘must’in (9), line 1, cannot be inflected in the passive). 4.2.

Discourse functions of the be-passive In Section 3.2., I identified morphosyntactic parallels between the bepassive and predicate adjective clauses. I will now show that they also share certain patterns of usage, in that they are both used to characterize entities. The characterization of entities is not the only function of the be-passive; it can also be used in certain evidential contexts for the description of activities. Below, I discuss the division of labor between the be-passive and the simple passive in such contexts. The be-passive is often used when some entity is being characterized. In these contexts, the be-passive may alternate with predicate adjective clauses. (10) illustrates this (cf. also 7 above). (10) Apporra 1 Jukka: mä ole joskus muinoin luke-nu semmose-n I be+1SG once long.ago read-PST+PTCP such-ACC “A long time ago I read 2

kirja-n ku Sven Hedin on kirjotta-nut sieltä book-ACC REL S. H. be+3SG write-PST+PTCP from.there a book from there [Tibet] that Sven Hedin had written

3

se-n elämä-ni tutkimusmatkailija-na. .hh it-ACClife-1SGPX explorer-ESS called “My life as an explorer”.hh

4

se on kyllä oikein it+NOM be+3SG surely really it’s really very nicely written

5

nii-st .hh tiibetiläis-i-stä those-ELA tibetan-PL-ELA about those Tibetans.”

kivast nicely

kirjote-ttu write-PASS+PST+PCP

In (10) the participants have been discussing Tibet. In lines 1–3 Jukka introduces a book that he has read a long time ago. In line 4 he then goes on to describe the book using the be-passive.

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In (10) the be-passive is used to characterize a book, and in (7) above it was used to describe a breed of dogs. Even though the verbs kirjoittaa ‘write’ in (10) and jalostaa ‘breed, cultivate’in (7) are verbs describing activities, the focus in these examples is not on the activity per se but its result. Thus for example in (10) it is the result of the process of writing, i.e. the book, that is being assessed. The be-passive can be also used in contexts which cannot be described as characterizing but are instead descriptions of activities. These descriptions are set up in evidential contexts. Consider (11). (11) Vappu 1 Joanna: puhut-ta-is vähän siit Kieleke-inffo-sta. (.) talk-PASS-COND+PERS a.little it+ELA K.-info-ELA “Let's talk a little about the Kieleke-info [name of a newsletter]. (.) 2

se on kuulemma (.) teh-ty ylleensä it be+3SG I.hear make-PASS+PST+PTCP usually I hear [Reportedly] it has (.) been done usually

3

kesä-llä ilmeisesti. summer-ADE evidently in the summer I guess.”

In (11) the speaker uses the be-passive in line 2. The construction on tehty ‘has been done’describes an action, but in a hearsay context (marked by kuulemma ‘I hear; reportedly’, line 2, and ilmeisesti ‘evidently’, line 3). It can be inferred from (11) that the speaker has not participated in producing the newsletter, but this inference is based not so much on the use of the be-passive but on the evidential adverbs kuulemma and ilmeisesti — if the speaker had had first hand experience she would not be able to mark her utterance with particles of inference and hearsay (unless she had been drunk or unconscious at the time). Many researchers have linked the Finnish present perfect with evidential usage (see e.g. Penttilä 1957:615, Seppänen 1997:14). Thus, evidentiality in examples like (11) should be seen as a feature of the present perfect rather than the passive; in (11) this evidential reading is further emphasized by the use of evidential particles. It is worth comparing the use of the be-passive (be + passive participle) with the present perfect of the simple passive (be-PASS + passive participle, cf. (7) above). At first glance, the two forms seem to be interchangeable in some contexts but not in others. A closer study reveals the division of labor for the two. In characterizing contexts (such as those in (7) and (10)), only the bepassive is possible; the simple passive ollaan + passive participle is ungram-


247

matical. One cannot simply replace the active on from (10) with the passive ollaan as in (10’). (10’) (Modified example) * se ol-la-an kyllä oikein kivast kirjote-ttu. it be-PASS-PERS surely really nicely write-PASS+PTCP As pointed out above, in contexts of characterization the be-passive puts focus on the result rather than the activity itself: it is the result of the activity that is being characterized. It would seem that ollaan + participle is not possible in these contexts because it shifts the focus from the result onto the human agent behind the activity. Whereas it is not possible to use ollaan + passive participle in characterizing contexts, but only on + passive participle, both on + passive participle and ollaan + passive participle are possible in descriptions of activities in evidential contexts. There is no strict division of labor, but some tendencies can be observed. It would be possible to use the present perfect of the simple passive (ollaan tehty) instead of the be-passive (on tehty) in a structure like (11), as shown in (11’). (11’) (Modified example) se ol-la-an teh-ty ylleensä kesä-llä. it be-PASS-PERS make-PASS+PST+PTCP usually summer-ADE “It has been written usually in the summer.” However, the particles of inference (ilmeisesti) and hearsay (kuulemma) used in the original (11) would seem out of place with ollaan + passive participle. Since ollaan + passive participle shifts the focus to the human agent behind the activity, it highlights the possibility that the speaker could be included in the reference of the passive. The inference drawn in (11) should be based on the activity of a human participant, but with the present perfect of the simple passive allowing the reference to include the speaker herself, as in (11’), inference seems unnecessary. It is odd to make inferences about one’s own activities unless one has not been fully conscious for some reason (one has been intoxicated, asleep etc.). In contrast, with the be-passive (on + passive participle), inferencing is based on the result of the activity. 5

5 As noted above (Section 3.2.), Setälä (1915) proposed that the past passive participle did not originally belong to the passive paradigm at all, but instead, expressed the result of the activity described by the verb. It seems that this meaning of the passive participle is now in conflict with the simple passive’s focus on activity, and in cases where the passive participle combines with the passive auxiliary ollaan, forming the present perfect of the simple passive, the activity focus overrides the focus on result.

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To sum up, the be-passive can be used to characterize entities. Its focus is on the result of the described action rather than the action itself. In characterizing contexts, it is not possible to use the simple passive ollaan + passive participle. It was suggested that this is due to differences of focus: ollaan + passive participle focuses on the agent of the activity, and this does not fit into the characterizing context. It was further shown that the be-passive, in addition to characterizing contexts, is also used to describe actions in certain evidential contexts. In these evidential contexts, it might seem to be interchangeable with the simple passive ollaan + passive participle; however, a closer look reveals that the be-passive is used when an inference is based on the result of an activity whereas the simple passive ollaan + passive participle focuses on the agent of the activity and accordingly, is used when the inference is based on the activity of the agent. 4.3.

Creating and maintaining personal reference with the simple passive I now turn to consider the simple passive in relation to the “zero person” and other members of the grammatical person system of Finnish (for a more thorough discussion of the person system see Helasvuo 2001:64–75 and Helasvuo and Laitinen, this volume). An example will help to illustrate how personal reference is created and maintained. As explained above, it has been customary in Finnish linguistics since Tuomikoski (1971) to refer to the simple passive as the “4 th person”in the person system. To put it simply, this means that the simple passive is not a 1st, 2nd or 3rd person form, but that it stands in relation to all of them, i.e., it is part of the same paradigmatic system. It indexes person, but the reference is open and has to be construed from context. In many ways, it comes close to what Laitinen (1995 and this volume) has described as the “zero person”: a zero subject that appears with a 3rd person singular verb. The zero person creates an open reference just like the passive. Thus, both forms are used to create open reference, and the reference has to be contextually construed. However, the referent of the zero is “an experiencer, a recipient or a patient undergoing a change of state”(Laitinen 1995:358), whereas the passive has an agentive interpretation as noted earlier (for more on the parallelism between the passive and the zero person, see Helasvuo 2001). Despite the similarities between the two forms, they have important differences that can be exploited when constructing reference to person. The simple passive often alternates with the zero person construction. Consider (12), which illustrates the expression of delicate distinctions in personal reference through slight changes in the grammatical forms. In this example, the participants are discussing a computer game called Doom.


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(12) Diablo 1 Mikko: mä oo-n meno-s normaali-lla läpitte. I be-1SG going-INE normal-ADE through “I’m going through (it) on the normal setting.” 2

(0.4) ((SOMEBODY IS CLAPPING HIS HANDS))

3 Santeri: ↑aha. (.) onne-ks ol-ko-on. PRT luck-TRA be-IMP-3SG “I see. (.) congratulations.” 4 Ben:

5 Mikko:

oikeesti jos sä [PELAA-T] really if you play-2SG “really if you [play]” [mi-llä ] lailla what-ADE way-ADE “In what way”

6 Ben:

niin su-n pitää, play-2SG that-ADJ-PL-PTV game-PL-PTV so you-GEN must “(if) you have to,

7

pela-ta-han niinku kaiki-sta vaike-imma-lla. play-PASS-PERS like all-ELA difficult-SUP-ADE ((it))’s played on the most difficult setting.

8

duumi-a pela-ta-han vain (0.6) naitmeöri-llä? (0.4) doom-PTV play-PASS-PERS only (0.6) nightmare-ADE Doom is played only on ‘nightmare’?”

9 Mikko: >jaa, ei kyllä pysy kauan hengi-ssä well NEG+3SG sure stay long alive-INE “>well, ((one)) surely doesn’t stay alive for very long 10

jos duumi-a pela-a naitmeöri-llä< (.) if doom-PTV play-3SG nightmare-ADE if ((one)) plays doom on (the) nightmare (setting) . no .” [joo] “yeah” ihan hullu-i-na väännet-t-i-hin, quite crazy-PL-ESS play-PASS-PST-PERS “((we)) were playing like crazy,”

In (12) lines 1–6, Mikko and Ben are discussing Mikko’s game and referring to themselves with 1st and 2nd person pronouns. The 2nd person form, however, can be interpreted as referring not just to the addressee but as carrying a more generic meaning potential ‘you or anybody else relevant’(cf. the generic or impersonal usage of you in English). On line 4 Ben starts an if–then-construction which develops into a piece of advice. In line 7 he makes a self-repair that shifts from the 2nd person reference into a passive. As has been noted, the reference of the passive is open for construal from context. In this context, the use of the passive highlights the possibility that the speaker is included in the reference and thus stands in contrast with the 2nd person form which the speaker has used earlier. The shift in the choice of referential form can be seen as a way to handle a delicate issue: in the process of giving advice the speaker shifts from a form that addresses the co-participant directly to a form that can be interpreted to also include the speaker himself. In lines 9–10 Mikko gives his argument for playing with the normal setting rather than the nightmare setting. When doing this he uses the zero construction (i.e. construction with a 3rd person verb form without an overt subject) rather than making direct reference to anyone. Again, this leaves the reference open for construal, but in contrast to the open reference created by the use of the passive, which carries an agentive interpretation, the zero person indexes an experiencer. Moreover, the zero construction refers to an experience that the co-participant(s) can identify with (see Laitinen (this volume) for discussion). Santeri replies to Mikko in line 11 with a passive construction, leaving open to interpretation who it was who played in the LAN. Line 12 shows that this strategy fails. Mikko is unsure which interpretation to choose, and asks specifically if Santeri himself did it. With his question (line 12), Mikko brings up personal reference as a topic. Ben responds to this with a construction that starts out as a simple passive but then adds the 1 st person plural pronoun me ‘we’, thus clari-


251

fying that somebody else, presumably Santeri, was playing there with him. Mikko responds to this with a ‘yes’. Interestingly, this response comes directly after the pronoun, that is, directly after Ben picks up the topic introduced by Mikko in line 12. In line 15, once it is clear to all conversational participants that Ben and Santeri are included in the set of referents, Ben shifts back to the simple passive. Thus, (12) illustrates how speakers may use the passive and the zero person construction to leave personal reference open to interpretation. Usually the use of forms with open reference, such as the passive and the zero person construction, is sufficient for the co-participants (see Du Bois 1980) and does not cause any problems. However, at each turn transition speakers have the option of responding in a way that shows open reference to be insufficient. Such a response may for example make relevant a clarification of the reference. This is what Mikko does in line 12: with his clarification question he indicates that he is unable to make the inferences required by the open reference forms that his co-participant Santeri has used. In this section, I have shown how speakers alternate between different forms for indicating personal reference in accordance with the needs of the conversational (micro)context. With (12) I have illustrated that the complexity of the person system in Finnish serves as a resource for speakers, and in particular that with zero construction and passive forms, personal reference can be left open for construal based on context. Each turn is fitted into the larger context of the conversation and displays an understanding of the talk so far. This includes an understanding of the referential forms used in prior talk. Each turn transition is a potential place for co-participants to show that they are facing problems with the talk so far or, alternatively, to indicate by smooth transition that there are no problems. It is in this way that we can say that speakers negotiate reference and, in essence, co-construe it. 4.4.

me ‘we’+ passive verb form In this section, I discuss the use of the simple passive verb form with the first person plural pronoun me ‘we’to mark plural 1st person reference, something introduced in Section 3.1, as being a common feature of colloquial Finnish. I will try to motivate what it is that makes the simple passive suited to this kind of reference. Helasvuo and Laitinen (this volume) discuss the nominal and verbal person systems in Finnish. Normally these two systems correspond regularly: for example, a second person singular pronoun appears together with a second person singular verb form. Helasvuo and Laitinen suggest that a characteristic of Finnish is that these two systems also intersect in more unexpected ways; for example when a passive form appears with a 3 rd person singular or plural pronoun or a 1st person plural pronoun. In these cases, the personal reference is


252

understood to be that of the pronoun, and not the verb form. (See Nirvi 1947, and Pertilä 2000, for more on these possibilities.) (13) illustrates how the pronoun me ‘we’and simple passive are used together, and how the me + passive construction alternates with the simple passive (without a personal pronoun). The example is again from the Diablo conversation, and the participants have returned to the same topic that was discussed in the excerpt shown in (9), namely the question of what they should do when their summer vacation starts. (13) Diablo 1 Mikko: mitä jos niin puhu-ta-han kuule ens kesä-n reissu-sta what if so talk-PASS-PERS listen next summer-GEN trip-ELA “listen, what if ((we)) talk about the trip next summer.” 2 Santeri: homma-a ny vittu se ajokortti että get-IMP+2SG now cunt it driver’s.license COMP “get yourself a fucking driver's license now so that 3

pääs-tä-hän sinne. get-PASS-PERS there´ ((we)) can get there.”

4 Ben:

vielä ku mä katto-o-n autu-a tuos että, (.) still when I look-PST-1SG car-PTV there COMP “still when I went to look for a car there that,”

5 Santeri: no kyllä me auto saa-ra-han, PRT sure we car get-PASS-PERS “well surely we’ll get a car, 6

ku-han vaan ↑kortti saa-ra-han. if-CLT only license get-PASS-PERS if ((we/you)) get a license.”

7 Ben:

HÄ? (.)>MI-STÄ ME AUTO SAA-RA-HANwhere do we get a car

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