Modality and Structure in Signed and Spoken Languages

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Modality and structure in signed and spoken languages

The realization that signed languages are true languages is one of the great discoveries of the last thirty years of linguistic research. The work of many sign language researchers has revealed deep similarities between signed and spoken languages in their structure, acquisition, and processing, as well as differences arising from the differing articulatory and perceptual constraints under which signed languages are used and learned. This book provides a crosslinguistic examination of the properties of many signed languages, including detailed case studies of American, Hong Kong, British, Mexican, and German Sign Languages. The contributions to this volume, by some of the most prominent researchers in the field, focus on a single question: to what extent is linguistic structure influenced by the modality of language? Their answers offer particular insights into the factors that shape the nature of language and contribute to our understanding of why languages are organized as they are. richard p. meier is Professor of Linguistics and Psychology at the University of Texas at Austin. His publications have appeared in various journals including Language, Cognitive Psychology, Journal of Memory and Language, Applied Psycholinguistics, Phonetica, and American Scientist. kearsy cormier is a lecturer of Deaf Studies in the Centre for Deaf Studies at the University of Bristol. She earned her doctorate in linguistics at the University of Texas at Austin. Her dissertation explores phonetic properties of verb agreement in American Sign Language. david quinto-pozos received his doctorate in linguistics from the University of Texas at Austin. He currently teaches in the Department of Linguistics at the University of Pittsburgh.

Modality and structure in signed and spoken languages edited by

Richard P. Meier, Kearsy Cormier, and David Quinto-Pozos with the assistance of Adrianne Cheek, Heather Knapp, and Christian Rathmann

          The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge, United Kingdom    The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 2RU, UK 40 West 20th Street, New York, NY 10011-4211, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia Ruiz de Alarcón 13, 28014 Madrid, Spain Dock House, The Waterfront, Cape Town 8001, South Africa http://www.cambridge.org © Cambridge University Press 2004 First published in printed format 2002 ISBN 0-511-00787-6 eBook (Adobe Reader) ISBN 0-521-80385-3 hardback

Contents

List of figures List of tables List of contributors Acknowledgments 1 Why different, why the same? Explaining effects and non-effects of modality upon linguistic structure in sign and speech richard p. meier

page viii xi xiii xvii

1

Part I Phonological structure in signed languages

27

2 Modality differences in sign language phonology and morphophonemics diane brentari

35

3 Beads on a string? Representations of repetition in spoken and signed languages rachel channon

65

4 Psycholinguistic investigations of phonological structure in ASL david p. corina and ursula c. hildebrandt

88

5 Modality-dependent aspects of sign language production: Evidence from slips of the hands and their repairs in German Sign Language annette hohenberger, daniela happ, and helen leuninger

112

6 The role of Manually Coded English in language development of deaf children samuel j. supalla and cecile m ckee

143

v

vi

Contents

Part II Gesture and iconicity in sign and speech 7 A modality-free notion of gesture and how it can help us with the morpheme vs. gesture question in sign language linguistics (Or at least give us some criteria to work with) arika okrent 8 Gesture as the substrate in the process of ASL grammaticization terry janzen and barbara shaffer 9 A crosslinguistic examination of the lexicons of four signed languages anne-marie p. guerra currie, richard p. meier, and keith walters

167

175 199

224

Part III Syntax in sign: Few or no effects of modality

237

10 Where are all the modality effects? diane lillo-martin

241

11 Applying morphosyntactic and phonological readjustment rules in natural language negation roland pfau

263

12 Nominal expressions in Hong Kong Sign Language: Does modality make a difference? gladys tang and felix y. b. sze

296

Part IV Using space and describing space: Pronouns, classifiers, and verb agreement 13 Pronominal reference in signed and spoken language: Are grammatical categories modality-dependent? susan lloyd m cburney 14 Is verb agreement the same crossmodally? christian rathmann and gaurav mathur 15 The effects of modality on spatial language: How signers and speakers talk about space karen emmorey

321 329 370

405

Contents

16 The effects of modality on BSL development in an exceptional learner gary morgan, neil smith, ianthi tsimpli, and bencie woll

vii

422

17 Deictic points in the visual–gestural and tactile–gestural modalities 442 david quinto-pozos Index

469

Figures

2.1

2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7

4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 5.6 5.7 viii

2.1a The handshape parameter used as an articulator in THINK; 2.1b as a place of articulation in TOUCH; 2.1c as a movement in UNDERSTAND page 41 ASL signs showing different timing patterns of handshape and path movement 42 Nominalization via reduplication 49 Nominalization via trilled movement affixation 50 2.5a UNDERSTAND (simple movement sign); 2.5b ACCOMPLISH-EASILY (complex movement sign) 53 Polymorphemic form 58 2.7a Handshape used in AIRPLANE with a thumb specification; 2.7b Handshape used in MOCK with no thumb specification 59 Reaction times for the two versions of the experiment 90 Reaction times for detection of handshapes in ASL signs 96 Word–picture interference and facilitation 99 Comparisons of sign–picture and word–picture interference effects 101 Results from Experiment 1: Two-shared parameter condition 105 Results from Experiment 2: Single parameter condition 106 Levelt’s (1989: 9) model of language production 116 Picture story of the elicitation task 118 5.3a SEINE [Y-hand]; 5.3b ELTERN [Y-hand]; 5.3c correct: SEINE [B-hand] 119 5.4a substitution: VA(TER); 5.4b conduite: SOHN; 5.4c target/correction: BUB 122 5.5a VATER [B-hand]; 5.5b slip: MOTHER [B-hand]; 5.5c correct: MOTHER [G-hand] 123 5.6a MANN [forehead]; 5.6b slip: FRAU [forehead]; 5.6c correct: FRAU [breast] 124 5.7a slip: HEIRAT/HOCHZEIT; 5.7b correction: HEIRAT; 5.7c correct: HOCHZEIT 126

List of figures

5.8 6.1 6.2 6.3

6.4 6.5 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 8.1

8.2 8.3

8.4

9.1 10.1 10.2 11.1 12.1 12.2 12.3 12.4 12.5 12.6 12.7 12.8 13.1 13.2 14.1

A polymorphemic form in ASL (Brentari 1998:21) 6.1a The SEE 2 sign -ING; 6.1b The SEE 2 sign -MENT The SEE 2 sign -S Three forms of the ASL sign IMPROVE: 6.3a the citation form; 6.3b the form inflected for continuative aspect; 6.3c a derived noun The SEE 2 signs: 6.4a IMPROVING; 6.4b IMPROVEMENT The SEE 2 sign KNOWING: 6.5a prior to assimilation; 6.5b after assimilation Video stills of speaker telling the story of a cartoon he has just watched Illustration of (2) Illustration of (3) Spectrogram of English utterance with gestural intonation Spectrogram of Chinese utterance with neutral intonation Spectrogram of Chinese utterance with gestural intonation 8.1a 1855 LSF PARTIR (‘to leave’); 8.1b 1855 LSF FUTUR (‘future’) (Brouland 1855); 8.1c 1913 ASL FUTURE (McGregor, in 1997 Sign Media Inc.); 8.1d Modern ASL FUTURE (Humphries et al. 1980) On se tire (‘go’) (Wylie 1977) 8.3a 1855 LSF POUVOIR (Brouland 1855); 8.3b 1913 ASL CAN (Hotchkiss in 1997 Sign Media Inc.); 8.3c Modern ASL CAN (Humphries et al. 1980) 8.4a 1855 LSF IL-FAUT (‘it is necessary’) (Brouland 1855); 8.4b 1913 ASL OWE (Hotchkiss in 1997 Sign Media Inc.); 8.4c Modern ASL MUST (Humphries et al. 1980) Decision tree for classification of sign tokens in corpus ASL verb agreement: 10.1a ‘I ask her’; 10.1b ‘He asks me’ Verb agreement template (after Sandler 1989) Five-level conception of grammar INDEXdet i ‘That man eats rice’ ‘Those men are reading’ 12.4a ONEdet/num ; 12.4b ONEnum ‘A female stole a dog’ 12.6a–b ONEdet-path ; 12.6c PERSON 12.7a POSSdet i ; 12.7b POSSneu ‘That dog is his’ ASL signing space as used for pronominal reference Continuum of referential specificity ASK ‘You ask me’ in ASL

ix

130 149 150

152 153 155 181 183 184 192 193 194

204 206

209

211 227 246 247 265 298 299 300 301 302 304 306 307 334 345 374

x

14.2 14.3 14.4 14.5 14.6 15.1 15.2

15.3 15.4

16.1 16.2 16.3 17.1

List of figures

‘You ask me’ in DGS, NS, and Auslan An adaptation of Jackendoff’s (1992) model Making the conceptualization of referents visible Affixation in spoken languages Readjustment in signed languages Illustration of ASL descriptions of the location of a table within a room Illustration of a speaker: 15.2a Using shared space; 15.2b Using the addressee’s spatial viewpoint to indicate the location of the box marked with an “X” Map of the town (from Tversky and Taylor 1992) Illustration: 15.4a of reversed space; 15.4b of mirrored space; 15.4c of two examples of the use of shared space for non-present referents Assessments of comprehension across BSL grammar tests: Christopher and mean comparator scores ‘(He) asks (her)’ ∗ ‘I like (her)’ Total use of indexation by each subject

375 387 389 394 395 406

408 413

415 432 433 434 455

Tables

1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 2.1 2.2 2.3 3.1 3.2 4.1 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 9.1 11.1 13.1 13.2 13.3 13.4 13.5 13.6

Non-effects of modality: Some shared properties between signed and spoken languages Possible sources of modality effects on linguistic structure Some properties of the articulators Some properties of the sensory and perceptual systems subserving sign vs. speech Possible outcomes of studies of modality effects Differences between vision and audition Traditional “parameters” in sign language phonological structure and one representative feature Canonical word shape according to the number of syllables and morphemes per word Words: Irregular and rhythmic repetition as percentages of all repetition Signs: Irregular and rhythmic repetition as percentages of all repetition Instruction to subjects: “Press the button when you see a ‘l’ handshape” DGS slip categories, cross-classified with affected entity Frequency of phonological errors by parameter in ASL and in DGS Slip categories/affected entities for the German slip corpus Locus of repair (number and percentage) in DGS vs. Dutch Summary of similarly-articulated signs for the three crosslinguistic studies Negation: A comparative chart English personal pronouns (nominative case) Asheninca personal pronouns Nagala personal pronouns Nogogu personal pronouns Aranda personal pronouns ASL personal pronouns

page 2 6 7 10 13 37 38 57 70 71 95 120 127 128 136 229 284 331 331 332 332 333 335 xi

xii

List of tables

13.7 13.8 13.9 13.10

Person distinctions across signed languages Number distinctions across signed languages Gender distinctions across signed languages Possible analogously structured system of pronominal reference English demonstrative pronouns Quechua demonstrative pronouns Pangasinan demonstrative pronouns Khasi demonstrative pronouns Lak demonstrative base forms Lak personal pronouns Bella Bella third person pronouns Null agreement system: Yoruba and Japanese Weak agreement system: Brazilian Portuguese and English Strong agreement system: Spanish and German Verb classes according to the phonological manifestation of agreement Verb types according to whether they accept (in)animate arguments Properties associated with spatial formats in ASL Christopher’s performance in five nonverbal (performance) intelligence tests Christopher’s performance in two face recognition tests Test of identification of iconic vs. semi-iconic and non-iconic signs Use of negation markers across learning period: Types, tokens, and ungrammatical use Narrative and subject order for data collection Signed narratives: Length (in seconds) and number of signs Use of indexation in the narratives The use of proper names realized by fingerspelling the name of the character being referred to The use of GIRL and SHE by DB2 English features in each narrative

13.11 13.12 13.13 13.14 13.15 13.16 13.17 14.1 14.2 14.3 14.4 14.5 15.1 16.1 16.2 16.3 16.4 17.1 17.2 17.3 17.4 17.5 17.6

339 340 340 343 346 347 347 348 348 349 349 371 372 373 376 381 411 425 426 430 433 450 451 454 456 457 458

Contributors

diane brentari is Professor and Director of the American Sign Language Program at Purdue University, and works on comparative analyses of phonology and morphology in signed and spoken languages. She is currently investigating crosslinguistic variation among sign languages in the area of morphophonemics. Her recent books include A prosodic analysis of sign language phonology (1998) and Foreign vocabulary in sign languages (2001). rachel channon recently received her doctorate in linguistics at the University of Maryland at College Park. Her dissertation considers characteristics of repetition, sequence and iconicity in sign languages and concludes that simple signs must have a single segment structure. david p. corina is an Associate Professor of Psychology at the University of Washington in Seattle, WA. His research program investigates the neural representation of human languages, focusing on Deaf users of signed languages, persons with temporal lobe epilepsy and aphasic populations. He uses converging methodologies – including behavioral studies, single unit recordings, cortical stimulation mapping, fMRI, and PET – in order to gain insights into the neural architecture of language. karen emmorey is a Senior Staff Scientist at the Salk Institute for Biological Studies, La Jolla, CA. She studies the processes involved in how Deaf people produce and comprehend sign language and how these processes are represented in the brain. Her most recent book is titled Language, cognition, and the brain: Insights from sign language research (2002). anne-marie p. guerra currie is at STI Healthcare, Inc. in Austin, Texas where she works on information retrieval and classification of medical record texts. Her diverse research interests include information retrieval and extraction, natural language processing, sociolinguistics, and sign language research.

xiii

xiv

List of contributors

daniela happ is a Deaf research assistant at the University of Frankfurt, Germany and works as a lecturer in German Sign Language (DGS) in the interpreter training program and in the qualification program for Deaf sign language teachers in Frankfurt. She has published curricular material for teaching DGS. ursula hildebrandt is a psychology doctoral student at the University of Washington in Seattle, WA. She studies perception of American Sign Language in deaf and hearing infants. annette hohenberger is a research assistant at the University of Frankfurt, Germany and works on German Sign Language (DGS), language production, and language acquisition. Her recent book is Functional categories in language acquisition: Self-organization of a dynamical system (2002). terry janzen is an Assistant Professor of Linguistics at the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg, Canada, and his research focuses on issues in American Sign Language (ASL) syntax, discourse structure, and grammaticization. He has published recent articles on the properties of topic constituents in ASL, and on the interaction of syntax and pragmatics. helen leuninger is Professor of Linguistics at the University of Frankfurt, Germany and works on the psycholinguistics and neurolinguistics of German Sign Language (DGS). She is the author of various books and articles on slips of the tongue and hand. In her current research project she investigates the effect of modality on sign and spoken language production. diane lillo-martin is Professor and Department Head at the University of Connecticut, and Senior Research Scientist at Haskins Laboratories. Her research interests include the structure and acquisition of American Sign Language, particularly in the area of syntax, and crosslinguistic studies of language acquisition. gaurav mathur is currently a postdoctoral fellow at Haskins Laboratories in New Haven, CT. He completed his doctoral dissertation in 2000 at MIT on the phonological manifestation of verb agreement in signed languages. His research interests include the interfaces among morphology, phonology, and phonetics in signed languages. richard p. meier is Professor of Linguistics and Psychology at the University of Texas at Austin, where he also directs the American Sign Language (ASL) program. Much of his research has examined the acquisition of ASL as a first language.


xv

susan lloyd m c b urney is a linguistics graduate student at the University of Washington, Seattle, WA. She works on the morphology and syntax of signed languages, the neurolinguistic processing of signed languages, and the history of the discipline of sign language linguistics. gary morgan is a Lecturer in Developmental Psychology at City University, London. He has published on British Sign Language in the International Journal of Bilingualism, the Journal of Child Language, and the Journal of Sign Language and Linguistics. cecile m c ke e is an Associate Professor at the University of Arizona, and works on crosslinguistic comparisons of language structures (e.g. English, Italian, American Sign Language), children’s processing mechanisms, and developmental language impairments (e.g. Down syndrome). Her recent publications include Methods for assessing children’s syntax (1996, with D. McDaniel and H. S. Cairns). arika okrent is completing a joint Ph.D. in the Departments of Linguistics and Psychology at the University of Chicago. roland pfau is an Assistant Professor at the University of Amsterdam, the Netherlands where he teaches sign language linguistics. Besides doing research on the morphosyntax and phonology of signed languages, he works on language typology and the processing of morphosyntactic features in language production. david quinto-pozos recently received his Ph.D. in linguistics at the University of Texas at Austin. His dissertation examines the contact between Mexican and American Sign Languages along the Texas–Mexico border. He is also a certified interpreter and interpreter trainer. He now teaches in the Department of Linguistics of the University of Pittsburgh. christian rathmann is a doctoral student in linguistics at the University of Texas at Austin. His research interests include the interface between syntax, semantics, and pragmatics, comparative studies of signed languages, and psycholinguistics. barbara shaffer is an Assistant Professor of Linguistics at the University of New Mexico. Her research and publications focus on markers of modality, pragmatics, and the grammaticization of signed languages. neil smith is Professor of Linguistics at University College London, where he has been head of the linguistics section since 1972. His most recent books are: Chomsky: Ideas and ideals (1999) and Language, bananas and bonobos (2002).

xvi


samuel j. supalla is an Associate Professor in the Department of Special Education, Rehabilitation, and School Psychology at the University of Arizona. He co-founded the Laurent Clerc Elementary School, a charter school in Tucson, AZ as part of a university–school affiliation effort. He supports the creation of a working academic curriculum for deaf children. To this end, he has carried out research on modality issues associated with language development, especially in learning print English as a second language without the support of sound. felix y. b. sze is a research student at the University of Bristol, UK. Her research interests include syntax as well as information packaging in Hong Kong Sign Language. gladys tang is an Associate Professor at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong. She works on sign linguistics, language acquisition, and applied linguistics. She is developing a project on sign language classifiers, their internal structure and acquisition by deaf children of Hong Kong Sign Language. ianthi tsimpli is an Associate Professor at the English Department at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki and is also an Assistant Director of Research at the Research Centre for English and Applied Linguistics at the University of Cambridge, UK. Her research interests include first and second language acquisition, language disorders, and formal syntax. Her book publications include The mind of a savant: Language learning and modularity (1995, with Neil Smith) and The prefunctional stage of language acquisition: A crosslinguistic study (1996). keith wal ters is an Associate Professor of Linguistics, Anthropology, and Middle Eastern Studies at the University of Texas at Austin, where he also serves as Associate Director of the Center for Middle Eastern Studies. Much of his research focuses on the sociolinguistics of North Africa–Arabic diglossia, Arabic–French bilingualism, codeswitching, and language and education in the USA. bencie woll holds the Chair in Sign Language and Deaf Studies at City University London, and she is involved in all aspects of sign language and sign linguistic research. Recent publications include The linguistics of BSL: An introduction (1999, with Rachel Sutton-Spence) and ‘Assessing British Sign Language development’ (with Ros Herman and Sallie Holmes).

Acknowledgments

Few readers will be surprised to learn that this volume is the fruit of a conference. That conference – one of an annual series sponsored by the Texas Linguistics Society – was held at the University of Texas at Austin on February 25–27, 2000; the topic was “The effects of modality on language and linguistic theory.” It was, we believe, a very successful meeting, one marked by the high quality of the papers and of the ensuing discussions. There are many people and organizations to whom we are indebted for their financial support of the conference and for their hard work toward its realization. Here there are two sets of friends and colleagues whom we especially want to thank: Adrianne Cheek, Heather Knapp, and Christian Rathmann were our co-organizers of the conference. We owe a particular debt to the interpreters who enabled effective conversation between the Deaf and hearing conferees. The skill and dedication of these interpreters – Kristen Schwall-Hoyt, Katie LaSalle, and Shirley Gerhardt – were a foundation of the conference’s success. This book brings together many of the papers from that conference. All are now much updated and much revised. The quality of the revisions is due not only to the hard work of the authors but also to the peer-review process. To every extent possible, we obtained two reviews for each chapter, one from a scholar who works on signed languages and one from a scholar who, while expert in linguistics or psycholinguistics, works primarily on spoken languages. There were two reasons for this: first we sought to make sure that the chapters would be of the highest possible quality. And, second, we sought to ensure that the chapters would be accessible to the widest possible audience of researchers in linguistics and related fields. To obtain these reviews, we abused many of our colleagues here at the University of Texas at Austin, including Ralph Blight, Megan Crowhurst, Lisa Green, Scott Myers, Carlota Smith, Steve Wechsler, and Tony Woodbury from the Department of Linguistics and Randy Diehl, Cathy Echols, and Peter MacNeilage from the Department of Psychology. We, and our authors, also benefited from the substantive and insightful reviews provided by Diane Brentari (Purdue University, West Lafayette, IN), Karen Emmorey (The Salk Institute, La Jolla, CA), Elisabeth Engberg-Pedersen (University of Copenhagen, xvii

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Acknowledgments

Denmark), Susan Fischer (National Technical Institute for the Deaf, Rochester, NY), Harry van der Hulst (University of Connecticut), Manfred Krifka (HumboldtUniversity,Berlin,Germany),CecileMcKee(University ofArizona), David McKee (Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand), Irit Meir (University of Haifa, Israel), Jill Morford (University of New Mexico), Carol Neidle (Boston University), Carol Padden (University of California, San Diego), Karen Petronio (Eastern Kentucky University), Claire Ramsey (University of Nebraska), Wendy Sandler (University of Haifa, Israel), and Sherman Wilcox (University of New Mexico). We thank all of these colleagues for the time that they gave to this volume. Christine Bartels, who at the outset was our acquisitions editor at Cambridge University Press, shaped our thinking about how to put this book together. We are greatly indebted to her. The Children’s Research Laboratory of the Department of Psychology of the University of Texas at Austin provided the physical infrastructure for our work on this book. During the preparation of this book, David Quinto-Pozos was supported by a predoctoral fellowship from the National Institutes of Health (F31 DC00352). Last – but certainly not least – we thank the friends and spouses who have seen us through this process, in particular Madeline Sutherland-Meier and Mannie Quinto-Pozos. Their patience and support have been unstinting. richard p. meier, kearsy cormier, and david quinto-pozos Austin, Texas

1

Why different, why the same? Explaining effects and non-effects of modality upon linguistic structure in sign and speech Richard P. Meier

1.1

Introduction

This is a book primarily about signed languages, but it is not a book targeted just at the community of linguists and psycholinguists who specialize in research on signed languages. It is instead a book in which data from signed languages are recruited in pursuit of the goal of answering a fundamental question about the nature of human language: what are the effects and non-effects of modality upon linguistic structure? By modality, I and the other authors represented in this book mean the mode – the means – by which language is produced and perceived. As anyone familiar with recent linguistic research – or even with popular culture – must know, there are at least two language modalities, the auditory–vocal modality of spoken languages and the visual–gestural modality of signed languages. Here I seek to provide a historical perspective on the issue of language and modality, as well to provide background for those who are not especially familiar with the sign literature. I also suggest some sources of modality effects and their potential consequences for the structure of language. 1.2

What’s the same?

Systematic research on the signed languages of the Deaf has a short history. In 1933, even as eminent a linguist as Leonard Bloomfield (1933:39) could write with assurance that: Some communities have a gesture language which upon occasion they use instead of speech. Such gesture languages have been observed among the lower-class Neapolitans, among Trappist monks (who have made a vow of silence), among the Indians of our western plains (where tribes of different language met in commerce and war), and among groups of deaf-mutes. It seems certain that these gesture languages are merely developments of ordinary gestures and that any and all complicated or not immediately intelligible gestures are based on the conventions of ordinary speech.

Why Bloomfield was so certain that speech was the source of any and all complexity in these gesture languages is unclear. Perhaps he was merely echoing 1

2

Richard P. Meier

Edward Sapir (1921:21) or other linguists who had articulated much the same views. Later, Hockett (1960) enumerated a set of design features by which we can distinguish human language from the communication systems of other animals and from our own nonlinguistic communication systems. The first of those 13 design features – the one that he felt was “perhaps the most obvious” (p.89) – is the vocal-auditory channel. Language, Hockett argued, is a phenomenon restricted to speech and hearing. Thus, the early conclusion of linguistic research was that there are profound differences between the oral–aural modality of spoken languages and the visual–gestural modality of Bloomfield’s “gesture languages.” On this view, those differences were such that human language was only possible in the oral–aural modality. However, the last 40 years of research – research that was started by William Stokoe (1960; Stokoe, Casterline, and Croneberg 1965) and that was thrown into high gear by Ursula Bellugi and Edward Klima (most notably, Klima and Bellugi 1979) – has demonstrated that there are two modalities in which human language may be produced. We now know that signed and spoken languages share many properties. From this, we can safely identify many non-effects of the modality in which language happens to be produced; see Table 1.1. Signed and spoken languages share the property of having conventional vocabularies in which there are learned pairings of form and meaning. Just as each speech community has its own idiosyncratic pairings of sound form and meaning, so does each sign community. In sign as in speech, meaningful units of form Table 1.1 Non-effects of modality: Some shared properties between signed and spoken languages r Conventional vocabularies: learned pairings of form and meaning. r Duality of patterning: meaningful units built of meaningless sublexical units, whether units of

r

r

r r

sound or of gesture: – Slips of the tongue/Slips of the hand demonstrate the importance of sublexical units in adult processing. Productivity: new vocabulary may be added to signed and spoken languages: – Derivational morphology; – Compounding; – Borrowing. Syntactic Structure: – Same parts of speech: nouns, verbs, and adjectives; – Embedding to form relative and complement clauses; – Trade-offs between word order and verb agreement in how grammatical relations are marked: rich agreement licenses null arguments and freedom in word order. Acquisition: similar timetables for acquisition. Lateralization: aphasia data point to crucial role for left hemisphere.

Explaining effects and non-effects of modality

3

are built of meaningless sublexical units, whether units of sound or units of manual gesture; thus signed and spoken languages amply demonstrate duality of patterning, another of Hockett’s design features of human language. Slips of the tongue and slips of the hand show that in sign, as in speech, these sublexical units of form are important in the adult’s planning of an utterance; the fact that speech phonemes or sign handshapes can be anticipated, perseverated, or switched independently of the word or sign to which they belong demonstrates the “psychological reality” of such units (Fromkin 1973; Klima and Bellugi 1979). The chapter in this volume by Annette Hohenberger, Daniela Happ, and Helen Leuninger provides the first crucial evidence that the kinds of slips of the hand found in American Sign Language (ASL) by Klima and Bellugi are also encountered in other sign languages, in this instance German Sign Language (Deutsche Gebärdensprache or DGS). The kinds of online psycholinguistic tasks that David Corina and Ursula Hildebrandt discuss in their chapter may offer another window onto the psycholinguistic reality of phonological structure in signed languages. Like spoken languages, signed languages can expand their vocabularies through derivational processes (Supalla and Newport 1978; Klima and Bellugi 1979), through compounding (Newport and Bellugi 1978; Klima and Bellugi 1979), and through borrowing (Padden 1998; Brentari 2001). Borrowings enter the vocabulary of ASL through the fingerspelling system (Battison 1978) and, recently, from foreign signed languages, which are a source of place names in particular. In the fact that they add to their vocabularies through rule-governed means and in the fact that novel messages may be expressed through the constrained combination of signs and phrases to form sentences, signed languages are fully consistent with another of Hockett’s design features: productivity. In the syntax of signed languages, we find evidence that signs belong to the same “parts of speech” as in spoken languages. In ASL, consistent morphological properties distinguish nouns such as CHAIR from semantically and formationally related verbs, in this instance SIT (Supalla and Newport 1978). ASL and other signed languages exhibit recursion; for example, sentence-like structures (clauses) can be embedded within sign sentences (e.g. Padden 1983). Word order is one means by which ASL and other signed languages distinguish subject from object (Fischer 1975; Liddell 1980). An inflectional rule of verb agreement means that the arguments of many verbs are marked through changes in their movement path and/or hand orientation (Padden 1983, among others).1 As in such Romance languages as Spanish and Italian, there is a tradeoff between word order and rich morphological marking of argument structure, the result 1

For a recent critique of the analysis of this property of verbs as being a result of agreement, see Liddell (2000), but also see Meier (2002) for arguments from child language development suggesting that what has been called agreement in signed languages is properly viewed as a linguistic rule.

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being that when arguments are signaled morphologically ASL exhibits “null arguments,” that is, phonologically empty subjects and objects (Lillo-Martin 1991). As Diane Lillo-Martin reviews in her chapter, Brazilian Sign Language – unlike ASL, perhaps – allows a further tradeoff, such that agreeing verbs sanction preverbal objects, whereas only SVO (subject – verb – object) order is permitted with non-agreeing verbs (Quadros 1999). Studies of the acquisition of ASL and other signed languages have revealed strong evidence that signed languages are acquired on essentially the same schedule as spoken languages (Newport and Meier 1985; Meier 1991; Petitto and Marentette 1991). There is evidence of an optimal maturational period – a critical period – for the acquisition of signed languages, just as there is for the acquisition of spoken languages (Mayberry and Fischer 1989; Newport 1990). In the processing of signed languages, as in the processing of spoken languages, there is a crucial role for the left hemisphere (Poizner, Klima, and Bellugi 1987) although there is ongoing controversy about whether there might be greater right hemisphere involvement in the processing of signed languages than there is in spoken languages (e.g., Neville, Bavelier, Corina, Rauschecker, Karni, Lalwani, Braun, Clark, Jezzard, and Turner 1998; and for discussion of these results, Corina, Neville, and Bavelier 1998; Hickok, Bellugi, and Klima 1998). On the basis of results such as those outlined above, there were two conclusions that many of us might have drawn in the early 1980s. One conclusion is unassailable, but the other is more problematic: Conclusion 1: The human language capacity is plastic: there are at least two modalities – that is, transmission channels – available to it. This is true despite the fact that every known community of hearing individuals has a spoken language as its primary language. It is also true despite plausible claims that humans have evolved – at least in the form of the human vocal tract – specifically to enable production of speech.

The finding that sign and speech are both vehicles for language is one of the most crucial empirical discoveries of the last decades of research in any area of linguistics. It is crucial because it alters our very definition of what language is. No longer can we equate language with speech. We now know that fundamental design features of language – such as duality of patterning, discreteness, and productivity – are not properties of a particular language modality. Instead these design features are properties of human language in general: properties presumably of whatever linguistic or cognitive capacities underlie human language. Indeed, we would expect the same properties to be encountered in a third modality – e.g. a tactile gestural modality – should natural languages be indentified there.2 Conclusion 2: There are few or no structural differences between signed and spoken languages. Sure, the phonetic features are different in sign and speech: speech does 2

In his contribution to this volume, David Quinto-Pozos discusses how deaf-blind signers use ASL in the tactile–gestural modality.


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not have handshapes and sign does not have a contrast between voiced and nonvoiced segments, but otherwise everything is pretty much the same in the two major language modalities. Except for those rules that refer specifically to articulatory features – or to auditory or visual features – any rule of a signed language is also a possible rule of a spoken language, and vice versa.

It is this second conclusion that warrants re-examination. The hypothesis that there are few or no structural differences between sign and speech is the subject of the remainder of this chapter. The fact that we know so much more now about signed languages than we did when William Stokoe began this enterprise in 1960 means that we can be secure in the understanding that discussion of modality differences does not threaten the fundamental conclusion that signed languages are indeed languages. The last 40 years of research have demonstrated conclusively that there are two major types of naturally-evolved human languages: signed and spoken. Why should we be interested in whether specific aspects of linguistic structure might be attributable to the particular properties of the transmission channel? Exploration of modality differences holds out the hope that we may achieve a kind of explanation that is rare in linguistics. Specifically, we may be able to explore hypotheses that this or that property of signed or spoken language is attributable to the particular constraints that affect that modality. 1.3

Why is it timely to revisit the issue of modality effects on linguistic structure?

Several developments make this a good time to reassess the hypothesis that there are few fundamental differences between signed and spoken languages. First, our analyses of ASL – still the language that is the focus of most research on signed languages – are increasingly detailed (see, for example, Brentari 1998; Neidle et al. 2000). Second, there are persistent suggestions of modality differences in phonological and morphological structure, in the use of space, in the pronominal systems of signed languages, and in the related system of verb agreement. It is a third development that is most crucial (Newport and Supalla 2000): there is an ever-increasing body of work on a variety of signed languages other than ASL. Even in this one volume, a range of signed languages is discussed: Annette Hohenberger, Daniela Happ, and Helen Leuninger discuss an extensive corpus of experimentally-collected slips of the hand in German Sign Language (DGS). Roland Pfau analyzes the syntax of negation in that same language, while Gladys Tang and Felix Y. B. Sze discuss the syntax of noun phrases in Hong Kong Sign Language (HKSL). Anne-Marie P. Guerra Currie, Keith Walters, and I compare basic vocabulary in four signed languages: Mexican, French, Spanish, and Japanese. Christian Rathmann and Gaurav Mathur touch on a variety of signed languages in their overview of verb agreement: not only

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ASL, but also DGS, Australian Sign Language, and Japanese Sign Language (Nihon Syuwa or NS). Gary Morgan and his colleagues discuss how Christopher – a hearing language savant – learned aspects of British Sign Language (BSL). Research on signed languages other than ASL means that discussion of modality differences is not confounded by the possibility that our knowledge of signed languages is largely limited to one language that might have many idiosyncratic properties. Just as we would not want to make strong conclusions about the nature of the human language capacity on the basis of analyses that are restricted to English, we would not want to characterize all signed languages just on the basis of ASL. 1.4

Why might signed and spoken languages differ?

Signed and spoken languages may differ because of the particular characteristics of the modalities in which they are produced and perceived; see Table 1.2. I mention three sets of ways in which the visual–gestural and oral–aural modalities differ; these differences between the language modalities are potential sources of linguistic differences between signed and spoken languages. At this point in time, however, we have few conclusive demonstrations of any such effects. In addition to those factors that pertain to specific properties of the two language modalities, I mention a fourth possible source of differences between signed and spoken languages: Signed and spoken languages may differ not only because of characteristics of their respective channels, but because of demographic and historical factors that suggest that sign languages are, in general, rather young languages. Young languages may themselves be distinctive. However, even here a property of the visual–gestural modality may come into play: one resource for the development of signed languages may be the nonlinguistic gestures that are also used in the visual–gestural modality. 1.4.1

The articulators

I turn first to the differing properties of the articulators in sign and speech (cf. Meier 1993). That the hands and arms are in many ways unlike the tongue, Table 1.2 Possible sources of modality effects on linguistic structure 1. Differing properties of the articulators 2. Differing properties of the perceptual systems 3. Greater potential of the visual–gestural system for iconic and/or indexic representation 4. The youth of signed languages and their roots in nonlinguistic gesture


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Table 1.3 Some properties of the articulators Sign

Speech

Light source external to signer Sign articulation not coupled (or loosely coupled) to respiration Sign articulators move in a transparent space Sign articulators relatively massive Sign articulators paired No predominant oscillator?

Sound source internal to speaker Oral articulation tightly coupled to respiration Oral articulators largely hidden Oral articulators relatively small Oral articulators not paired Mandible is predominant oscillator

mandible, lips, and velum surely comes as no surprise to anyone.3 Table 1.3 lists a number of ways in which the oral and manual articulators differ. The oral articulators are small and largely hidden within the oral cavity; the fact that only some of their movements are visible to the addressee accounts for the failure of lipreading as a means of understanding speech. In contrast, the manual articulators are relatively large. Moreover, the sign articulators are paired; the production of many signs entails the co-ordinated action of the two arms and hands. Yet despite the impressive differences between the oral and manual articulators, their consequences for linguistic structure are far from obvious. For example, consider the fact that the sound source for speech is internal to the speaker, whereas the light source for the reflected light that carries information about the signer’s message is external to that signer.4 3

4

The articulators in speech or sign seem so different that, when we find common properties of sign and speech, we are tempted to think that they must be due to general, high-level properties of the human language capacity or perhaps to high-level properties of human cognition. But a cautionary note is in order: there are commonalities in motoric organization across the two modalities that mean that some similar properties of the form of sign and speech may be attributable to shared properties of the very disparate looking motor systems by which speech and sign are articulated (Meier 2000b). Here are two examples: (1) in infancy, repetitive, nonlinguistic movements of the hands and arms emerge at the same time as vocal babbling (Thelen 1979). This motoric factor may contribute to the apparent coincidence in timing of vocal and manual babbling (Petitto and Marentette 1991; Meier and Willerman 1995). More generally, all children appear to show some bias toward repetitive movement patterns. This may account for certain facts of manual babbling, vocal babbling, early word formation, and early sign formation (Meier, McGarvin, Zakia, and Willerman 1997; Meier, Mauk, Mirus, and Conlin 1998). (2) The sign stream, like the speech stream, cannot be thought of as a series of beads on a string. Instead, in both modalities, phonological units are subject to coarticulation, perhaps as a consequence of principles such as economy of effort to which all human motor performance – linguistic or not – is subject. Instrumented analyses of handshape production reveal extensive coarticulation in the form of ASL handshapes, even in very simple sign strings (Cheek 2001; in press). There are communication systems – both biological and artificial – in which the light source is internal: the most familiar biological example is the lightening bug.

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This fact may limit the use of signed languages on moonless nights along country roads, but may have no consequence for how signed languages are structured.5 To date, the articulatory factor that has received the most attention in the sign literature involves the relative size of the articulators in sign and speech. In contrast to the oral articulators, the manual articulators are massive. Large muscle groups are required to overcome inertia and to move the hands through space, much larger muscles than those required to move the tongue tip. Not surprisingly, the rate at which ASL signs are produced appears to be slower than the rate at which English words are produced, although the rate at which propositions are produced appears to be the same (Bellugi and Fischer 1972; Klima and Bellugi 1979). How can this seeming paradox be resolved? Klima and Bellugi (1979; see also Bellugi and Fischer 1972) argued that the slow rate of sign production encourages the simultaneous layering of information within the morphology of ASL; conversely, the slow rate of sign production discourages the sequential affixation that is so prevalent in spoken languages.6 Consistent with this suggestion, when Deaf signers who were highly experienced users of both ASL and Signing Exact English (SEE) were asked to sign a story, the rate at which propositions were produced in SEE was much slower than in ASL (a mean of 1.5 seconds per proposition in ASL, vs. 2.8 seconds per proposition in SEE). In SEE, there are separate signs for the morphology of English (including separate signs for English inflections, function words, and derivational morphemes). In this instance an articulatory constraint may push natural signed languages, such as ASL, in a particular typological direction, that is, toward nonconcatenative morphology. The slow rate at which propositions are expressed in sign systems such as SEE that mirror the typological 5

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Similarly, the use of spoken languages is limited in environments in which there are very high levels of ambient noise, and in such environments – for example, sawmills – sign systems may develop (Meissner and Philpott 1975). Measurements of word/sign length are, of course, not direct measurements of the speed of oral or manual articulators; nor are they measures of the duration of movement excursions. Some years ago, at the urging of Ursula Bellugi, I compared the rate of word production in English and Navaho. The hypothesis was that the rate of word production (words/minute) would be lower in Navaho than in English, consistent with the fact that Navaho is a polysynthetic language with an elaborate set of verbal prefixes. The results were consistent with this hypothesis. Wilbur and Nolen (1986) attempted a measure of syllable duration in ASL. They equated movement excursion with syllable, such that, in bidirectional signs and in reduplicated forms, syllable boundaries were associated with changes in movement direction. On this computation, syllable durations in sign were roughly comparable at 250 ms to measures of English syllable duration that Wilbur and Nolen pulled from the phonetics literature. Note, however, that there is little phonological contrast – and indeed little articulatory change – across many of the successive “syllables” within signs; in a reduplicated or bidirectional form, the only change from one syllable to the next would be in direction of path movement. See Rachel Channon’s contribution to this volume (Chapter 3) for a discussion of repetition in signs.


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organization of English may account for the fact that such systems have not been widely adopted in the Deaf community. The two language modalities may also differ in whether they make a single predominant oscillator available for the production of language, as I discussed in an earlier paper (Meier 2000b). Oscillatory movements underlie human action, whether walking, chewing, breathing, talking, or signing. Although there are several relatively independent oral articulators (e.g. the lips, the tongue tip, the tongue dorsum, the velum, and the mandible), MacNeilage and Davis (1993; also MacNeilage 1998) ascribe a unique status to one of those articulators. They argue that oscillation of the mandible provides a “frame” around which syllable production is organized. Repeated cycles of raising and lowering the mandible yield a regular alternation between a relatively closed and relatively open vocal tract. This articulatory cycle is perceived as an alternation between consonants and vowels. Mandibular oscillation may also be developmentally primary: MacNeilage and Davis argue that, except for the mandible, children have little independent control over the speech articulators; cycles of raising and lowering the mandible account for the simple consonant–vowel (CV) syllables of vocal babbling. When we observe individual ASL signs we see actions – sometimes repeated, sometimes not – of many different articulators of the arm and hand. ASL signs can have movement that is largely or completely restricted to virtually any joint on the arm: The sign ANIMAL requires repeated in-and-out movements of the shoulder. Production of the sign DAY entails the rotation of the arm at the shoulder. The arm rotates toward the midline along its longitudinal axis. The signs GOOD and GIVE (citation form) are articulated through the extension of the arm at the elbow, whereas TREE involves the rotation of the forearm at the radioulnar joint. YES involves the repeated flexion and extension of the wrist. The movement of still other signs is localized at particular articulators within the hand (e.g. TURTLE: repeated internal bending of the thumb; BIRD: repeated bending of the first finger at the first knuckle; COLOR: repeated extension and flexion of the four fingers at the first knuckle; BUG: repeated bending at the second knuckle). Still other signs involve articulation at more than one joint; for example, one form of GRANDMOTHER overlays repeated rotation of the forearm on top of an outward movement excursion executed by extension of the arm at the elbow. Facts such as these suggest that it will be hard to identify a single, predominant oscillator in sign that is comparable to the mandibular oscillation of speech. This further suggests that analysts of syllable structure in sign may not be able to develop a simple articulatory model of syllable production comparable to the one that appears possible for speech. On the view suggested by MacNeilage and Davis’s model, speech production – but not sign production – is constrained to fit within the frame imposed by a single articulator.

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Table 1.4 Some properties of the sensory and perceptual systems subserving sign vs. speech Sign

Speech

Signer must be in view of addressee High bandwidth of vision High spatial resolution of vision; lower temporal resolution than audition Visual stimuli generally not categorically perceived Articulatory gestures as the object of perception

Speaker need not be in view of addressee Lower bandwidth of audition High temporal resolution of audition; lower spatial resolution than vision Categorical perception of speech (and of some highly dynamic nonspeech stimuli) Acoustic events as the object of perception

1.4.2

The sensory or perceptual systems

A second source of linguistic differences between signed and spoken languages could lie in the differing properties of the sensory and perceptual systems that subserve the understanding of sign and speech (again see Meier 1993 for further discussion, as well as Diane Brentari’s contribution to this book). In Table 1.4, I list some pertinent differences between vision and audition.7 Specific claims about the relationship between these sensory/perceptual factors and linguistic structure have hardly been developed. One instance where we might make a specific proposal pertains to the greater bandwidth of the visual channel: to get a feel for this, compare the transmission capacity needed for regular telephone vs. a videophone. Greater bandwidth is required to transmit an adequate videophone signal, as opposed to a signal that is adequate for a spoken conversation on a standard telephone. The suggestion is that at any instant in time more information is available to the eye than the ear, although in both modalities only a fraction of that information is linguistically relevant. A more concrete statement of the issue comes from an important discussion of the constraints under which spoken languages have evolved. Pinker and Bloom (1990:713) observed that “[The vocal–auditory channel] is essentially a serial interface . . . lacking the full two-dimensionality needed to convey graph or tree structures and typographical devices such as fonts, subscripts, and brackets. 7

In an earlier article that addressed some of the same issues as discussed here (Meier 1993), I listed categorical perception as a modality feature that may distinguish the perception of signed and spoken languages. The results of early studies, in particular Newport (1982), suggested that handshape and place distinctions in ASL were not categorically perceived, a result that indicated to Newport that categorical perception might be a property of audition. Very recent studies raise again the possibility that distinctions of handshape and of linguistic and nonlinguistic facial expression may be categorically perceived (Campbell, Woll, Benson, and Wallace 1999; McCullough, Emmorey, and Brentari 2000).


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The basic tools of a coding scheme using such a channel are an inventory of distinguishable symbols and their concatenation. Thus, grammars for spoken languages must map propositional structures onto a serial channel . . .” In her chapter, Susan McBurney makes an interesting distinction between the modality and the medium of a human language. For her, modality is the biological or physical system that subserves a given language; thus, for signed languages it is the manual and visual systems that together make up the visual–gestural modality. Crucially, she defines the medium “as the channel (or channels) through which a language is conveyed. More specifically, channel refers to the dimensions of space and time that are available to a given language.” Like Pinker and Bloom, she considers the medium for speech to be fundamentally one-dimensional; speech plays out over time. But sign languages are conveyed through a multidimensional medium: the articulatory and perceptual characteristics of the visual–gestural modality give signed languages access to four dimensions of space and time. The question then becomes: to what extent do signed languages utilize space and what consequences does the use of space have for the nature of linguistic structure in sign? 1.4.3

The potential of the visual–gestural modality for iconic representation and for indexic/ostensive identification of referents

Visual representations – not just language, but also gesture and visual media in general – seem to have greater access to iconicity than do auditory representations: compare the rich possibilities for iconic portrayal in painting and photography to the much more limited possibilities in music. Moreover the visual–gestural modality has great capacity for indexic motivation: with gestures an individual can point to the referents that he or she is discussing. Not only do the possibilities for iconic and indexic motivation seem greater in the visual–gestural modality of signed languages, but the kinds of notions that can be encoded through non-arbitrary gestures may be more important and varied than the kinds of notions that can be encoded in a non-arbitrary fashion in spoken languages. In speech, imagistic words can represent the sounds of objects. Sound symbolism may loosely be able to indicate the relative size of objects. Order of mention may reflect the temporal sequence of events. Gesture can likewise signify size and order, but it can also point to the locations of objects, sketch their shapes, and describe their movements. Goldin-Meadow and McNeill (1999:155) suggest that the manual and oral modalities are equally good at what they call “segmented and combinatorial encoding.” Consistent with this suggestion, signed and spoken languages share fundamental aspects of linguistic structure. But Goldin-Meadow and McNeill also suggest that, for “mimetic encoding,” the manual modality is a superior vehicle to the oral modality. In spoken conversations, such mimetic encoding

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is achieved through the nonlinguistic gestures that accompany speech. On their view the oral modality – unlike the manual one – is constrained in that it is only suitable for segmented, combinatorial, categorical encoding of information. They conclude (p.166) that, in the evolution of human languages: speech became the predominant medium of human language not because it is so well suited to the segmented and combinatorial requirements of symbolic communication (the manual modality is equally suited to the job), but rather because it is not particularly good at capturing the mimetic components of human communication (a task at which the manual modality excels).

1.4.4

The youth of sign languages and their roots in nonlinguistic gesture

As best we can tell, signed languages are young languages, with histories that hardly extend beyond the mid-eighteenth century. With some effort we can trace the history of ASL to seventeenth century Martha’s Vineyard (Groce 1985). The youngest known signed language – Nicaraguan Sign Language – has a history that extends back only to the late 1970s (Kegl, Senghas, and Coppola 1999; Polich 2000). We also know of one class of young spoken languages – specifically, the creole languages – and, importantly, these languages tend to be very uniform in structure (Bickerton 1984). The demographics of Deaf communities mean that children may have been, and may continue to be, key contributors to the structure of signed languages. Few deaf children have native signing models. Only third-generation deaf children – in other words, those with a deaf grandparent – have at least one native-signing parent. The fact that most deaf children do not have nativesigning models in the home – indeed the preponderance of deaf children (specifically, the 90 percent of deaf childen who are born to hearing parents) do not even have fluent models in the home – may mean that deaf children have freer rein to use linguistic forms that reflect their own biases, as opposed to the conventions of an established linguistic community. The biases of different deaf children are likely to have much in common. That deaf children can create linguistic structure has been shown in a variety of situations: r in the innovated syntax of the “home sign” systems developed by deaf children born to nonsigning, hearing parents (Goldin-Meadow and Feldman 1977; Goldin-Meadow and Mylander 1990); r in the acquisition of ASL by a deaf child who had input only from deaf parents who were late – and quite imperfect – learners of ASL (Singleton and Newport, in press); r in the innovated use of spatial modification of verbs (“verb agreement”) by deaf children exposed only to Signing Exact English with its thoroughly nonspatial syntax (Supalla 1991); and


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r in the apparent creation of Nicaraguan Sign Language since the late 1970s (Kegl et al. 1999). Young spoken and signed languages need not be structured identically, given the differing “substrates” and “superstrates” that contributed to them and the differing constraints upon the oral–aural and visual–gestural modalities. For young spoken languages – that is, for creole languages – the preponderance of the vocabulary derived from the vocabulary of whatever the dominant (or “superstrate”) language was in the society in which the creole arose; so, French Creoles such as Haitian drew largely from the vocabulary of French. But signed languages could draw from rather different resources: one source may have been the gestures that deaf children and their families sometimes innovate in the creation of home sign systems. Other contributors to the vocabularies of signed languages may have been the gestures that are in general use among the deaf and hearing populations; in their chapter, Terry Janzen and Barbara Shaffer trace the etymology of certain modal signs in ASL and in French Sign Language (Langue des Signes Française or LSF) back to nonlinguistic gesture. Because many gestures – whether they be the gestures of young deaf home signers or the gestures of hearing adults – are somehow motivated in their form, these gestures may exhibit some internal form–meaning associations. It seems possible that such latent regularities may be codified and systematized by children, yielding elaborate sign-internal morphology of a sort that we would not expect within the words of a spoken creole (Meier 1984).

1.5

What are possible linguistic outcomes of these modality differences? What, if anything, differs between signed and spoken languages?

In Table 1.5, I list five types of linguistic outcomes that may arise as consequences of the modality differences listed in Table 1.2. Let us look at the first of these possible outcomes.

Table 1.5 Possible outcomes of studies of modality effects 1. Not much: Signed and spoken languages share the same linguistic properties. Obviously the distinctive features of sign and speech are very different, but there are no interesting structural differences. 2. Statistical tendencies: One modality has more instances of some linguistic feature than the other modality. 3. Preferred typological properties differ between the modalities. 4. Rules or typological patterns that are unique to a particular modality. 5. Relative uniformity of signed languages vs. Relative diversity of spoken languages.

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1.5.1

Not much

There are different sets of distinctive features available to signed and spoken languages, but otherwise everything could be pretty much the same. I have already asserted that this finding is true of the basic architecture of signed and spoken languages. It may also be true generally of certain areas of linguistic structure. It is not easy to identify factors that would lead to systematic differences between signed and spoken languages in syntax and semantics, in what categories are encoded in grammatical morphologies, in how the scope of quantifiers is determined, and so on. Demonstrations that sign and speech share a particular linguistic property will remain important: they show that the existence of a given property in, say, speech is not attributable to the peculiar properties of the oral–aural modality. For example, we might think that iconic signs would be represented in the mental lexicon in terms of their global, imagistic properties; on this view, the representation of lexical items in terms of meaningless, sublexical units of form would be reserved for arbitrary words (and, perhaps, signs) in which the overall shape of the lexical item is of no matter. The abundant evidence for sublexical structure in speech might then be seen as a consequence of the fact that speech is so poor at iconic representation. But it turns out that iconic signs also have sublexical structure. For example, slips of the hand can disrupt the iconicity of signs. Klima and Bellugi (1979:130) cite an example in which a signer attempted to produce the sentence RECENT EAT FINISH ‘(I) recently ate.’ In the slip, the signer switched the places of articulation of RECENT and EAT, so that RECENT was made at the mouth (instead of at the cheek) and EAT was made at the cheek (instead of at the mouth). The error disrupts the iconicity of EAT whose target place of articulation is motivated by the fact that the sign is an icon of the act of putting food in one’s mouth. Evidence from studies of shortterm memory likewise suggests that signers who had been asked to memorize lists of signs represented those signs in terms of their sublexical structure, not in terms of their global iconic qualities (Klima and Bellugi 1979). The way in which these signers represented signs in memory closely parallels the ways in which hearing individuals represent the words of a spoken language. In sum, duality of patterning in speech is not a consequence of the fact that speech is poor at iconic representation. Duality of patterning characterizes word and signs, whether arbitrary or iconic. In her contribution to this volume, Diane Lillo-Martin (Chapter 10) notes that in the generative tradition the autonomy of syntax has long been assumed. On this hypothesis, syntactic rules of natural languages do not refer to phonological categories or structures, and conversely phonological rules do not refer to syntactic categories or structures. Thus, in signed and in spoken languages, the syntax should be blind to the kinds of modality-specific properties that are


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encoded by the distinctive features of phonetics; we should find no modality effects on syntactic structure (or indeed semantic structure). Lillo-Martin sees one potential class of exceptions to this generalization in the stylistic reordering rules that may apply in the interface between syntax and phonology. More generally, it is at the articulatory–perceptual interface where the vocabulary of linguistic rules is modality specific. Mapping phonology to articulation requires references to voicing or to circular movements. Here modality effects of a sort may be numerous, but such effects may reflect nothing more than the defining properties of the two modalities (i.e. one modality makes the hands available for language, the other makes the mouth available). 1.5.2

Statistical tendencies

Statistical tendencies can lead to important conclusions about the nature of language. Let us consider Saussure’s (1916/1959) assertion that linguistic symbols are fundamentally arbitrary. Following Saussure’s lead, Hockett (1960) listed arbitrariness as one of the design features of language. Thus, English words like dog or Spanish words like perro do not look or sound like their referents. But iconic signs seem to be much more frequent than iconic words and they seem to occupy comparatively central places in the lexicons of signed languages. In contrast, onomatopoetic words occupy a rather marginal place in the vocabulary of a language like English. Why is there this difference between signed and spoken languages in the frequency of iconic lexical items? As already suggested above, the oral–aural modality seems to have very limited possibilities for the iconic representation of meaning. Here the speech modality is impoverished. In contrast, the visual–gestural modality grants signed languages the possibility of having many relatively iconic signs. Thus, the iconicity of many signs and of some iconic words suggests that the human language capacity is not unduly troubled by iconicity; it does not demand that all words and signs be strictly arbitrary. Instead what is key in both speech and sign is that form–meaning pairings are conventionalized. That is, such pairings are specific to a particular language community and are learned by children reared in those communities. The frequency of iconic signs in signed languages leads me to the conclusion that there are in fact two pertinent design requirements on linguistic vocabularies: 1. Languages have vocabularies in which form and meaning are linked by convention. 2. Languages must allow arbitrary symbols; if they did not, they could not readily encode abstract concepts, or indeed any concept that is not imageable. We know, of course, that ASL has many arbitrary signs, including signs such as MOTHER or CURIOUS or FALSE.

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Note that this statistical difference between sign and speech in the frequency of iconic lexical items may indeed be a consequence of differences in the oral– aural and visual–gestural modalities. Yet this difference may have few or no consequences for the grammar of signed and spoken languages. And, thus, the linguist could continue to believe a variant of Outcome 1: specifically, that linguists could quite reasonably believe that, with regard to grammar, not much differs across the two modalities. Even so, there could be consequences for acquisition, but I do not think that there are (for reviews, see Newport and Meier 1985; Meier 1991). Or there could be consequences for the creation of new languages. And, indeed, there may be. For example, the greater resources for iconic representation in the visual–gestural modality allow deaf children of hearing parents to innovate gestures – “home signs” – that can be understood by their parents or other interlocutors (Goldin-Meadow and Feldman 1977). This may jump-start the creation of new signed languages.8 1.5.3

Preferred typological properties differ between signed and spoken languages

Klima and Bellugi (1979) argued that the relatively slow rate of manual articulation may push sign languages in the direction of simultaneous, tiered, nonconcatenative morphology. In contrast, affixal morphology is the norm in spoken languages, although the Semitic languages in particular have abundant nonconcatenative morphology. ASL and other signed languages make great use of patterns of repetition, of changes in rhythm, of “doubling” of the hands (i.e. making a normally one-handed sign two-handed), and of displacement of signs in space to mark temporal and distributive aspect, derived nouns or adjectives, and subject and object agreement. In contrast, prefixes and suffixes are rare in signed languages (Aronoff, Meir, and Sandler 2000), although ASL has an agentive suffix (among a small set of possible affixes) and Israeli Sign Language appears to have a derivational prefix. Thus, the difference between signed and spoken languages appears to be this: signed languages generally opt for nonconcatenative morphology, but make occasional use of sequential affixes. Spoken languages generally opt for concatenative morphology, but make limited use of nonconcatenative morphology. Developmental evidence suggests that children acquiring signed languages prefer nonconcatenative morphology, as discussed by Samuel J. Supalla and 8

Having said this, there is at least anecdotal evidence (discussed in Meier 1982) that deaf children of hearing parents are not limited by the iconicity of their home signs. For example, Feldman (1975) reports that one deaf child’s home sign for ice cream resembled the action of licking an ice cream cone. Early on, the gesture was used only in contexts that matched this image. But, with development, the child extended the gesture to other contexts. So, this same gesture was used to refer to ice cream that was eaten from a bowl.


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Cecile McKee in their contribution to this volume (Chapter 6). Many deaf children in the USA are exposed to some form of Manually Coded English (MCE) as part of their school curriculum. Supalla (1991) examined the signing of a group of children who had been exposed to Signing Exact English (SEE 2), one of the MCE systems currently in use in the schools. This artificial sign system follows the grammar of English. Accordingly, SEE 2 does not use the spatial devices characteristic of ASL and other natural signed languages, but does have separate signs for each of the inflectional affixes of English. Thus, in SEE 2, verb agreement is signaled by a semi-independent sign that employs the S handshape (i.e. a fist) and that has the distribution of the third-person singular suffix of spoken English. Supalla’s subjects were deaf fourth- and fifth-graders (ages 9–11), all of whom came from hearing families and none of whom had any ASL exposure. The SEE 2 exposed children neglected to use the affixal agreement sign that had been modeled in their classrooms; instead they innovated the use of directional modifications of verbs, despite the fact that their input contained little such modification.9 Through such directional modifications, many verbs in conventional sign languages such as ASL – and in the innovative uses of the SEE 2 exposed children – move from a location in space associated with the subject to a location associated with the object. No affixes mark subject and object agreement; instead an overall change in the movement path of the verb signals agreement.10 1.5.4

Rules or typological patterns that are unique to signed or spoken languages

Identifying grammatical rules or typological patterns that are unique to sign or speech presents clear methodological problems. Rules that have been identified only in spoken languages may be of little interest because there are so many more spoken languages than signed languages. Therefore, our failure to identify a given property (say, ergative case) in signed languages could be a reflection merely of sampling problems. Alternatively, some “exotic” patterns exemplified in spoken languages may never occur in young languages, whether spoken or signed. If so, age may bring more rule types to signed languages. But testing this hypothesis is going to be difficult. 9

10

In their chapter, Supalla and McKee (Chapter 6) raise problems for any account that would look solely to articulatory factors (including rate of production) in order to explain the tendency toward noncatenative morphology in signed languages. These authors suggest certain perceptual and grammatical factors that may explain the difficulties that children have in acquiring English inflectional morphology as encoded in SEE 2. Specifically, they argue that when these forms are affixed to ASL signs, constraints on the wellformedness of signs are violated. Further, because these suffixal signs are so sign-like, children may not identifiy the stem and the suffix as constituting a single sign, thereby leading to errors in the segmentation of the sign stream. Crucially, childen’s innovative use of directional verbs is not identical to the forms that are sanctioned in conventional signed languages such as ASL or French Sign Language. For discussion of this, see Meier 2002.

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What about rules or patterns that are unique to signed languages? Such rules or patterns are perhaps most likely to be found in pronominal/agreement systems and in spatial descriptions where the resources available to signed languages are very different than in speech. Here are three candidates: r The signed languages examined to date distinguish first and nonfirst person – and ASL has lexical first-person plural signs WE and OUR – but may have no grammatical distinction between second and third person, whereas all spoken languages distinguish first, second, and third persons (Meier 1990). Spatial distinctions – not person ones – allow reference to addressees to be distinguished from reference to non-addressed participants. This characterization of the pronominal system of ASL has gained wide acceptance (see, for example, Neidle et al. 2000, as well as the chapters in this volume by Diane Lillo-Martin [Chapter 10] and by Christian Rathmann and Gaurav Mathur [Chapter 14]) and has also been adopted in the analysis of signed languages other than ASL: for example, Danish Sign Language (Engberg-Pedersen 1993) and Taiwanese Sign Language (Smith 1990). However, this is a negative claim about signed languages: specifically that signed languages lack a grammatical distinction that is ubiquitous in spoken languages.11 r Signed languages favor object agreement over subject agreement, unlike spoken languages. For verbs that show agreement, object agreement is obligatory, whereas subject agreement is optional.12 Acceptance of this apparent difference between signed and spoken languages depends on resolution of the now raging debate as to the status of verb agreement in signed languages. Is it properly viewed as a strictly gestural system (Liddell 2000), or is it a linguistically-constrained system, as argued in the chapters in this volume by Diane Lillo-Martin (Chapter 10) and by Christian Rathmann and Gaurav Mathur (Chapter 14; see also Meier 2002)? r Instead of the kinds of spatial markers that are familiar in spoken languages (e.g. prepositions such as in, on, or under in English), signed languages always seem to use the signing space to represent the space being described. This is the topic of Karen Emmorey’s contribution to this volume (Chapter 15). 1.5.5

Relative uniformity of signed languages vs. relative diversity of spoken languages

In general, sign languages may not exhibit unique linguistic rules, but may display a more limited range of variation than is true of spoken languages. This 11

12

Acceptance of the first–nonfirst analysis of person in ASL and other signed languages is by no means universal. Liddell (2000) and McBurney (this volume, Chapter 13) have each argued for an analysis of sign pronominal systems that makes no person distinctions. However, Engberg-Pedersen (1993) cites the work of Edward Keenan to the effect that there are a couple of known spoken languages that show object but not subject agreement.


19

hypothesis was advanced most prominently by Newport and Supalla (2000). The general picture that has emerged from recent research on a variety of signed languages is that signed languages use word order and verb agreement to distinguish the arguments of verbs. For a variety of signed languages, three classes of verbs have been distinguished: plain, agreeing, and spatial. This proposal was first made for ASL (Padden 1983). Spatial verbs agree with locative arguments, whereas agreeing verbs agree with the direct or indirect object (depending on the verb in question) and with the subject. Agreeing verbs may show either single or double agreement; singly-agreeing verbs show object agreement. For agreeing verbs, subject agreement appears to be optional, whereas object agreement is obligatory (Meier 1982; Padden 1983). This basic description of verb agreement has been extended to a variety of other signed languages including British (Sutton-Spence and Woll 1998), French (Moody 1983), Israeli (Meir 1998), and Danish (Engberg-Pedersen 1993) Sign Languages, as well as the Sign Language of the Netherlands (Bos 1990). In general, signed languages have been described as topic–comment languages. Topic structures, as well as verb agreement, license null arguments (Lillo-Martin 1991). Signed languages have grammaticalized facial expressions that distinguish important sentence types: for example, declaratives, yes–no questions, wh-questions, and conditionals (although different signed languages may assign different facial expressions to a particular linguistic function; cf. Kegl, Senghas, and Coppola 1999). In their morphological structure, signed languages tend to use patterns of repeated movement (loosely, reduplication) to mark temporal aspect. Verb agreement is signaled by the movement of verbs with respect to locations in space that are associated with subject and object. Within verbs of movement and location, so-called classifier handshapes identify referents as belonging to the class of humans, or small animals, or flat, flexible objects, or vehicles, among others (see Emmorey, in press). Of course, signed languages also differ. Most obviously they do so in their vocabularies; the distinct vocabularies of American Sign Language and British Sign Language render those languages mutually unintelligible. In their phonological structures, signed languages differ in their inventories of contrastive phonological elements, perhaps particularly so in handshape inventories (e.g. Woodward 1982). ASL and Chinese Sign Language have been shown to differ in constraints on how the two hands interact, such that an F-hand sign in ASL cannot contact the nondominant hand at the tips of the extended fingers, but can do so where the thumb and first finger meet. The opposite is apparently true in Chinese Sign Language (Klima and Bellugi 1979). In syntax, the most interesting known difference amongst sign languages lies in whether or not they have auxiliary-like elements; some signed languages – but not ASL – have auxiliaries that carry agreement when the main verb is a plain verb (i.e. a non-agreeing verb). Among those signed languages are Taiwanese (Smith 1990), Brazilian

20

Richard P. Meier

(Quadros 1999), and German (Rathmann 2000). Signed languages also vary in their predominant word order; some like ASL are predominately SVO, whereas others – including Japanese Sign Language – are SOV (subject – object – verb). And, as Roland Pfau demonstrates in his chapter (Chapter 11), the grammar of negation varies across signed languages. However, as Newport and Supalla (2000) have observed, the variation that we encounter in signed languages seems much more limited than the variation found in spoken languages. Spoken languages may be tonal, or not. Spoken languages may be nominative/accusative languages or they may be ergative. They may have very limited word-internal morphology or they may have the elaborate morphology of a polysynthetic language. And some spoken languages have elaborate systems of case morphology that permit great freedom of word order, whereas others have little or no such morphology. Why is variation apparently so limited in signed languages? The distinctive properties of the visual–gestural modality may be a contributor. But, as mentioned before, the limited variation in signed languages could be less a product of the visual–gestural modality, than of the youth of the languages that are produced and perceived in that modality. 1.6

Conclusion

What I have sketched here is basically a classification of potential causes and potential effects. It is not a theory by any means. The chapters that follow allow us to jettison this meager start in favor of something much meatier: rich empirical results placed within much richer theoretical frameworks. But even from this brief review, we have seen, for example, that recent research on a range of signed languages has led to the surprising suggestion that signed and spoken languages exhibit distinct patterns of variation (Newport and Supalla 2000). Although signed languages differ in their vocabularies, in word order, in the presence of auxiliary-like elements, and in other ways, they seem on the whole to be much less diverse typologically than are spoken languages. The relative uniformity of signed languages, in contrast to the typological diversity of spoken languages, may be due to the differing resources available to sign and speech and the differing perceptual and articulatory constraints imposed by the visual–gestural and oral–aural modalities. The apparent fact that signed languages are young languages may also contribute to their uniformity. The suggestion that signed languages are less diverse than spoken ones is a fundamental hypothesis about the factors that determine what structures are available to individual human languages. Yet this hypothesis has hardly been tested. Doing so will demand that we examine a large sample of signed languages. But just like many spoken languages, the very existence of some signed languages is threatened (Meier 2000a). The pressures of educational policy, of more prestigious spoken and signed languages, and of the ease of


21

communication across once-formidable barriers mean that many signed languages may disappear before we have the faintest understanding of how much signed languages may vary. For example, the indigenous signed languages of Southeast Asia are apparently dying out and being replaced by signed languages substantially influenced by ASL or by LSF (Woodward 2000). And, even seemingly secure languages such as ASL face threats from well-intentioned medical and educational practices. Linguists will be able to map the extent of linguistic diversity in signed languages only if these languages can flourish for generations to come.

Acknowledgments In thinking and writing about the issues discussed here, I owe a particular debt to Elissa Newport and Ted Supalla’s recent chapter (Newport and Supalla 2000) in which they raise many of the issues discussed here. I also thank Wendy Sandler, Gaurav Mathur, and Christian Rathmann for their thoughtful comments on a draft of this chapter.

1.7

References

Aronoff, Mark, Irit Meir, and Wendy Sandler. 2000. Universal and particular aspects of sign language morphology. Unpublished manuscript, State University of New York at Stony Brook, NY. Battison, Robbin. 1978. Lexical borrowing in American Sign Language. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press. Bellugi, Ursula and Susan Fischer. 1972. A comparison of sign language and spoken language. Cognition 1:173–200. Bickerton, Derek. 1984. The language bioprogram hypothesis. Behavioral and Brain Sciences 7:173–221. Bloomfield, Leonard. 1933. Language. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Bos, Heleen F. 1990. Person and location marking in SLN: Some implications of a spatially expressed syntactic system. In Current trends in European sign language research, ed. Siegmund Prillwitz and Tomas Vollhaber, 231–248. Hamburg: Signum Brentari, Diane, ed. 2001. Foreign vocabulary in sign languages: A cross-linguistic investigation of word formation. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Campbell, Ruth, Bencie Woll, Philip J. Benson, and Simon B. Wallace. 1999. Categorical perception of face actions: Their role in sign language and in communicative facial displays. Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology 52:67–95. Cheek, Adrianne. 2001. The phonetics and phonology of handshape in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of Texas at Austin, TX. Cheek, Adrianne. In press. Synchronic handshape variation in ASL: Evidence of coarticulation. Northeastern Conference on Linguistics (NELS) 31 Proceedings. Corina, David P., Helen J. Neville, and Daphne Bavelier. 1998. Response from Corina, Neville and Bavelier. Trends in Cognitive Sciences 2:468–470.

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Emmorey, Karen, ed. In press. Perspectives on classifier constructions. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth. 1993. Space in Danish Sign Language. Hamburg: Signum. Feldman, Heidi. 1975. The development of a lexicon by deaf children of hearing parents or, There’s more to language than meets the ear. Doctoral dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, PA. Fischer, Susan. 1975. Influences on word order change in American Sign Language. In Word order and word order change, ed. Charles N. Li, 1–25. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Fromkin, Victoria A. 1973. Introduction. In Speech errors as linguistic evidence, ed. Victoria A. Fromkin, 11–45. The Hague: Mouton. Goldin-Meadow, Susan and Feldman, Heidi. 1977. The development of language-like communication without a language model. Science 197:401–403. Goldin-Meadow, Susan and McNeill, David. 1999. The role of gesture and mimetic representation in making language the province of speech. In The descent of mind: Psychological perspectives on hominid evolution, ed. Michael C. Corballis and Stephen E. G. Lea, 155–172. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Goldin-Meadow, Susan and Carolyn Mylander. 1990. Beyond the input given: The child’s role in the acquisition of language. Language 66:323–355. Groce, Nora E. 1985. Everyone here spoke sign language: Hereditary deafness on Martha’s Vineyard. Cambridge, MA: Harvard. Hickok, Gregory, Ursula Bellugi, and Edward S. Klima. 1998. What’s right about the neural organization of sign language? A perspective on recent neuroimaging results. Trends in Cognitive Sciences 2:465–468. Hockett, Charles. 1960. The origin of speech. Scientific American 203:88–96. Kegl, Judy, Ann Senghas, and Marie Coppola. 1999. Creation through contact: Sign language emergence and sign language change in Nicaragua. In Language creation and language change, ed. Michel DeGraff, 179–237. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Klima, Edward S. and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Liddell, Scott K. 1980. American Sign Language syntax. The Hague: Mouton. Liddell, Scott K. 2000. Indicating verbs and pronouns: pointing away from agreement. In The Signs Of Language revisited, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 303–320. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1991. Universal Grammar and American Sign Language: Setting the null argument parameters. Dordrecht: Kluwer. MacNeilage, Peter F. and Barbara L. Davis. 1993. Motor explanations of babbling and early speech patterns. In Developmental neurocognition: Speech and face processing in the first year of life, ed. B. de Boysson-Bardies, S. de Schonen, P. Jusczyk, P. F. MacNeilage, and J. Morton, 341–352. Dordrecht: Kluwer. MacNeilage, Peter F. 1998. The frame/content theory of evolution of speech production. Behavioral and Brain Sciences 21:499–546. Mayberry, Rachel and Fischer, Susan D. 1989. Looking through phonological shape to lexical meaning: The bottleneck of non-native sign language processing. Memory and Cognition 17:740–754. McCullough, Stephen, Karen Emmorey, and Diane Brentari. 2000. Categorical


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perception in American Sign Language. Linguistic Society of America, January, Chicago, IL. Meier, Richard P. 1982. Icons, analogues, and morphemes: The acquisition of verb agreement in ASL. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. Meier, Richard P. 1984. Sign as creole. Behavioral and Brain Sciences 7:201–202. Meier, Richard P. 1990. Person deixis in American Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research. Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple, 175–190. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Meier, Richard P. 1991. Language acquisition by deaf children. American Scientist 79:60–70. Meier, Richard P. 1993. A psycholinguistic perspective on phonological segmentation in sign and speech. In Phonetics and Phonology. Vol. 3: Current Issues in American Sign Language Phonology, ed. Geoffrey R. Coulter, 169–188. San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Meier, Richard P. 2000a. Diminishing diversity of signed languages. Science 288:1965. Meier, Richard P. 2000b. Shared motoric factors in the acquisition of sign and speech. In The Signs of Language Revisited, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 331–354. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Meier, Richard P. 2002. The acquisition of verb agreement: Pointing out arguments for the linguistic status of agreement in signed languages. In Current developments in the study of signed language acquisition, ed. Gary Morgan and Bencie Woll. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Meier, Richard P., Claude Mauk, Gene R. Mirus, and Kimberly E. Conlin. 1998. Motoric constraints on early sign acquisition. In Proceedings of the Child Language Research Forum, Vol. 29, ed. Eve Clark, 63–72. Stanford, CA: CSLI Press. Meier, Richard P., Lynn McGarvin, Renée A. E. Zakia, and Raquel Willerman. 1997. Silent mandibular oscillations in vocal babbling. Phonetica 54:153–171. Meier, Richard P. and Raquel Willerman. 1995. Prelinguistic gesture in deaf and hearing children. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 391–409. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Meir, Irit. 1998. Syntactic–semantic interaction of Israeli Sign Language verbs: The case of backward verbs. Sign Language and Linguistics 1:3–37. Meissner, Martin and Stuart B. Philpott. 1975. The sign language of sawmill workers in British Columbia. Sign Language Studies 9:291–308. Moody, Bill. 1983. La langue des signes, Vol. 1: Histoire et grammaire. Paris: Ellipses. Neidle, Carol, Judy Kegl, Dawn MacLaughlin, Benjamin Bahan, and Robert G. Lee. 2000. The syntax of American Sign Language: Functional categories and hierarchical structure. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Neville, Helen J., Daphne Bavelier, David Corina, Josef Rauschecker, Avi Karni, Anil Lalwani, Allen Braun, Vince Clark, Peter Jezzard, and Robert Turner. 1998. Cerebral organization for language in deaf and hearing subjects: Biological constraints and effects of experience. Proceedings of the National Academy of Science 95: 922–929. Newport, Elissa L. 1982. Task specificity in language learning? Evidence from speech perception and American Sign Language. In Language acquisition: The state of the art, ed. Eric Wanner and Lila Gleitman, 451–486. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Newport, Elissa L. 1990. Maturational constraints on language learning. Cognitive Science 14:11–28. Newport, Elissa L. and Ursula Bellugi. 1978. Linguistic expression of category levels in visual–gestural language. In Cognition and categorization, ed. Eleanor Rosch and Barbara B. Lloyd. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Newport, Elissa L. and Richard P. Meier. 1985. The acquisition of American Sign Language. In The crosslinguistic study of language acquisition. Vol. 1: The data, ed. Dan I. Slobin, 881–938. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Newport, Elissa L. and Ted Supalla. 2000. Sign language research at the millennium. In The Signs of Language Revisited, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 103–114. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Padden, Carol A. 1983. Interaction of morphology and syntax in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. Padden, Carol A. 1998. The ASL lexicon. Sign Language and Linguistics 1:39–60. Petitto, Laura A. and Paula Marentette. 1991. Babbling in the manual mode: Evidence from the ontogeny of language. Science 251:1493–1496. Pinker, Steven and Paul Bloom. 1990. Natural language and natural selection. Behavioral and Brain Sciences 13:707–784. Poizner, Howard, Edward S. Klima, and Ursula Bellugi. 1987. What the hands reveal about the brain. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Polich, Laura G. 2000. The Search for Proto-NSL: Looking for the roots of the Nicaraguan deaf community. In Bilingualism and identity in Deaf communities, ed. Melanie Metzger, 255–305. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Quadros, Ronice M. de. 1999. Phrase structure of Brazilian Sign Language. Unpublished dissertation, Pontif´ıcia Universidade Católica do Rio Grande do Sul. Rathmann, Christian. 2000. Does the presence of person agreement marker predict word order in signed languages? Paper presented at 7th International Conference on Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Resarch (TISLR 2000). University of Amsterdam, July. Sapir, Edward 1921. Language. New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World. Saussure, Ferdinand de. 1916/1959. Course in general linguistics. New York: Philosophical Library. (English translation of Cours de linguistic générale. Paris: Payot.) Singleton, Jennie and Elissa L. Newport. In press. When learners surpass their models: The acquisition of American Sign Language from inconsistent input. Cognitive Psychology. Smith, Wayne. 1990. Evidence for auxiliaries in Taiwanese Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research. Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Stokoe, William C. 1960. Sign language structure: An outline of the communication systems of the American deaf. Studies in Linguistics, Occasional Papers, 8. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press. Stokoe, William C., Dorothy C. Casterline, and Carl G. Croneberg. 1965. A Dictionary of American Sign Language on Linguistic Principles. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Supalla, Samuel J. 1991. Manually Coded English: The modality question in signed language development. In Theoretical issues in sign language research. Vol. 2:


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Psychology, ed. Patricia Siple and Susan D. Fischer, 85–109. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Supalla, Ted and Elissa L. Newport. 1978. How many seats in a chair? The derivation of nouns and verbs in American Sign Language. In Understanding language through sign language research, ed. Patricia Siple, 91–133. New York: Academic Press. Sutton-Spence, Rachel and Bencie Woll. 1998. The linguistics of British Sign Language: An introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Thelen, Esther. 1979. Rhythmical stereotypes in normal hearing infants. Animal Behaviour, 27, 699–715. Wilbur, Ronnie B. and Susan B. Nolen. 1986. The duration of syllables in American Sign Language. Language and Speech 29:263–280. Woodward, James. 1982. Single finger extension: Toward a theory of naturalness in sign language phonology. Sign Language Studies 37:289–304. Woodward, James. 2000. In The Signs of Language Revisited, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 23–47. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Part I

Phonological structure in signed languages

At first glance, a general linguistic audience may be surprised to find a phonology section in a book that focuses on sign language research. The very word “phonology” connotes a field of study having to do with sound (phon). Sign languages, however, are obviously not made up of sounds. Instead, the phonetic building blocks of sign languages are derived from movements and postures of the hands and arms. Although early sign researchers acknowledged these obvious differences between signed and spoken languages by referring to the systematic articulatory patterns found within sign language as “cherology” (Stokoe 1960; Stokoe, Casterline, and Croneberg 1965), later researchers adopted the more widely used term “phonology” to emphasize the underlying similarity. Although different on the surface, both sign and speech are composed of minimal units that create meaningful distinctions (i.e. phonemes, in spoken languages) and these units are subject to language specific patterns (for discussions of phonological units and patterns in American Sign Language [ASL], see Stokoe 1960; Stokoe, Casterline, and Croneberg 1965; Klima and Bellugi 1979; Liddell 1984; Liddell and Johnson 1986, 1989; Wilbur 1987; Brentari 1990; Corina and Sandler 1993; Perlmutter 1993; Sandler 1993; Corina 1996; Brentari 1998). The research reported in this set of chapters contributes to our understanding of sign phonology, and specifically to the issue of whether and how the way in which a language is produced and perceived may influence its underlying phonological structure. Implicit in these questions is the notion that wherever signed and spoken languages are phonologically divergent, the differences can be traced to modality-specific properties, whereas the properties shared by sign and speech are likely candidates for universal grammar (UG). Each chapter addresses this question in a different way – behaviorally, statistically, or theoretically – but the opinions that emerge are remarkably similar. Although spoken and signed languages share a phonological vocabulary that may include prosodic words, syllables, timing units, and static and dynamic elements, the instantiation of many of these components varies dramatically between the two modalities. The authors in this section agree that these differing instantiations are rooted in the simultaneous rather than sequential nature of signs, and that 27

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simultaneity owes its existence, at least in part, to properties of visual perception. To the extent that the auditory system forces words to be sequentially organized (Liberman and Studdert-Kennedy 1977), the capacities of the visual system effectively relax this constraint. Similarity between sign and speech phonology, then, is largely a function of the existence, rather than the particular instantiation of, phonological categories. If so, it is the existence of such categories and their application for communicative purposes, more than the form they take, that forms the core of UG phonology. In an attempt to explore the central question of modality, two major topics emerge. First, how does the channel through which a language is produced and perceived influence language behavior, both under naturalistic and experimental circumstances? This line of research speaks to the psychological reality of the phonological representation of signs and invites inquiry into the second topic, the precise nature of phonological representations in signed and spoken languages. By exploring these topics, the authors not only better inform us about issues in sign language phonology, they broaden our understanding of phonological patterning in general, providing theories that encompass two language modalities. The classical view of sign language phonology was that individual signs could be described by three major parameters of sign formation: hand configuration, movement, and place of articulation (Stokoe 1960; Stokoe et al. 1965; Klima and Bellugi 1979). Hand configuration includes both handshape, the distinct shape produced by extension and/or flexion of the finger and thumb joints, and orientation, the position of the palm of the hand relative to the body. Movement denotes the path that the manual articulators traverse to produce the sign, and may also include hand-internal movement of the finger joints. The place of articulation of a sign is the location on the body or in space where the sign is produced. Each parameter comprises a set of possible forms for a given language. These forms are, for example, A, 5, and O for hand configuration, upward, to and fro, and circular for movement, and neutral space, nose, and chin for place of articulation. The set of hand configurations, movements, and places of articulation used in any given sign language draws from the sets of possible hand configurations, movements, and places of articulation available to all sign languages. Evidence that these parameters are contrastive building blocks within signs can be found in minimal pairs, signs that differ from one another in a single parameter (see Klima and Bellugi 1979). Minimal pairs demonstrate that a change in the value of a single formational parameter can result in a change in the meaning of a sign. Other evidence for the significance of the major parameters of sign formation comes from the unequal distribution of spontaneous errors in sign production. In a seminal study, Klima and Bellugi (1979) found that in a corpus of 131 ASL slips of the hand there were 65 instances of handshape


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substitutions, but only 13 place of articulation substitutions and 11 movement substitutions. In addition to slip data, claims that parameters are linguistically and cognitively significant are bolstered by short-term memory error data (Bellugi and Siple 1974; Bellugi, Klima, and Siple 1975; Klima and Bellugi 1979) and by aphasia studies (e.g. Corina, Poizner, Bellugi, Feinberg, Dowd, and O’Grady-Batch 1992). The dissociation and differential susceptibility of the formational parameters of signed languages have motivated a significant body of research. Formational parameters that originated in the literature as useful notational devices have thus come to be recognized as having linguistic, and perhaps even psychological, utility. The authors in this volume pursue this discussion. In a study similar to Klima and Bellugi’s original, Annette Hohenberger, Daniela Happ, and Helen Leuninger (Chapter 5) induced and then categorized slips of the hand produced by native users of German Sign Language (Deutsche Gebärdensprache or DGS). The DGS slip data provide crosslinguistic evidence of the independence of the parameters of sign formation. And, like Klima and Bellugi’s data, the DGS data show that handshape is slipped more often than other parameters. Hohenberger and her colleagues expanded the scope of the original Klima and Bellugi study in an important way: in order to assess the influence of modality on language production, they conducted an identical experiment in spoken German with hearing users of that language. By undertaking a comprehensive comparison of the slips and repairs found in DGS and spoken German, Hohenberger et al. attribute many production error differences between the languages to the different time courses by which phonological units are produced in sign and speech. They argue that the synchronous articulation of sign parameters results, for example, in relatively more fusion errors and fewer exchange errors in DGS than in German. David Corina and Ursula Hildebrandt (Chapter 4) also discuss behavioral manifestations of the phonological categories of sign language, but their focus is on perception rather than production. By adapting classic techniques of speech perception to the visual–gestural modality and by designing some novel experiments of their own, these authors sought to determine whether there is evidence for the psychological reality of the phonological architecture of signs. Their finding of a reduced role of phonological structure in sign processing stands in contrast to the spoken language literature. However, some evidence is observed in a metalinguistic task of similarity judgments. In this experiment, which compared the intuitions of deaf, native signers of ASL to those of hearing, sign-naive English speakers, subjects were asked to watch video-presented stimuli and determine which of four phonologically possible nonsigns was most similar in appearance to a target nonsign. Each of the nonsign choices shared different parameter combinations with the target. Corina and Hildebrandt found that while hearing subjects’ judgments were based on only the perceptual

30


salience of the sign parameters, and on sign movement in particular, deaf subjects’ judgments reflected both perceptual salience and linguistic relevance. The results of Corina and Hildebrant’s phonological similarity study corroborate prior suggestions that movement is the most salient element within the sign (see also Sandler 1993). Sign language researchers suggest that sign language movement – whether as large as a path movement or as small as a hand configuration change – forms the nucleus of the sign syllable (Wilbur 1987; Perlmutter 1993; Corina 1996; Brentari 1998). Curious as to whether the greater perceptibility of vowels is due to physical properties of the signal or to their syllabic status, Corina and Hildebrandt observed that hand configurations in sign have a dual status. Depending on whether the posture of the hands remains constant throughout a sign – in which case the dynamic portion of the sign comes from path movement – or whether the posture of the hands changes while the other parameters are held constant, hand configurations can be thought of as non-nuclear (C) or nuclear (V) in a sign syllable. Accordingly, Corina and Hildebrandt conducted a phonememonitoring experiment in which subjects were asked to quickly identify the presence of specific handshapes in signs. Each handshape was presented in a static and a dynamic context. Their finding – that this context has little effect on the speed with which handshapes are identified – leads them to suggest that differences found in natural language perception of nuclear and non-nuclear segments rests on physical differences in the signal, not on the syllabic status of the segment. Generally, Corina and Hildebrandt find that the influence of phonological form on sign perception is less robust than one might expect. They discuss the possibility that the differential transparency of the articulatory structures of sign and speech may have important consequences for language perception. They hypothesize that, compared to speech, in sign there is greater transparency between the physical signal directly observed by an addressee and the addressee’s internal representation of the signs being produced. In the perception of signed languages the addressee observes the language articulators directly. In contrast, in speech the listener perceives the acoustic effects of the actions of the speaker’s articulators. Similarly, Diane Brentari, who in this volume (Chapter 2) utilizes her Prosodic Model of sign language phonology as a theoretical framework by which to evaluate the influence of modality on phonology, attributes much of the difference between signed and spoken phonological representations to phonetics. Specifically, she invokes the realm of phonetics whereby a physical signal is transformed into a linguistic one. Rather than appealing to greater transparency, Brentari argues that representational differences between sign and speech cannot be separated from the visual system’s capacity for vertical processing. The advantage of the visual–gestural modality for vertical processing, or processing


31

items presented at the same time, stands in contrast to the advantage that the auditory–vocal modality has with respect to horizontal processing, or the ability to process temporally adiscrete items. This distinction allows – and in fact requires, says Brentari – a different organization of the phonological units of signed languages. Brentari’s model of sign language phonology is not a simple transformation of spoken language models. She accords movement features, which she labels prosodic (PF), an entirely different theoretical status from handshape and place of articulation features, which she labels inherent (IF). This distinction was developed to account for sign languages in particular, but it succeeds in capturing some more general aspects of phonology. Syllables in sign have visual salience, which is analogous to acoustic sonority, and prosodic features are vowel-like while inherent features are consonant-like. Brentari argues that properties such as PFs (or Vs) and IFs (or Cs), along with other properties common to both sign and speech, are likely candidates for UG. For example, both language modalities exhibit structures that can be divided into two parts. One part “carries most of the paradigmatic contrasts,” and the other part “comprises the medium by which the signal is carried over long distances” (the salient movement features or vowels). These observations suggest that UG requires both highly contrastive and highly salient phonological elements. Rachel Channon’s chapter (Chapter 3) also supports the idea that signed and spoken languages have different phonological representations. She observes that the different phonological structures of the languages in each modality lead to different patterns of repeated elements. Spoken words, for example, are composed of contrastive segments that may repeat in an irregular fashion. Simple signs, however, are composed of a bundle of features articulated simultaneously; in such signs, elements repeat in a regular “rhythmic” fashion. In her statistical analysis of the types of repetition found within a sign and within a word, Channon develops two models of repetition. One model predicts speech data well, but not sign data. The other predicts sign data well, but is a poor predictor of repetition in speech. She concludes that differences in the occurrence of repetition in sign and in speech are systematic, and that the systematicity is a function of different phonological representations of the two modalities. Not only do the chapters in this volume advance ideas about differences in the phonological representations of sign and speech, they also highlight possible differences between sign and speech that may have little phonological import, but that are of real psycholinguistic interest. For example, in Hohenberger et al.’s comparison of the DGS slips data to slips in spoken German, they report that errors are detected and repaired earlier in sign languages (typically within a sign) compared to spoken languages (almost always after the word). A possible explanation for this difference can be found in the relative duration of signs

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vs. words. Specifically, an individual sign takes about twice as long as a word to be articulated, so errors in sign are more likely to be caught before the sign is completed (however, for evidence that the rates at which propositions are expressed in sign and speech are not different, see Klima and Bellugi 1979). This difference in how signers or speakers repair their language is a modality effect that does not reach into the phonology of the language. The last chapter in this section – that by Samuel J. Supalla and Cecile McKee (Chapter 6) – argues that there are also educational consequences of properties of word formation that may be specific to signed languages. Various systems for encoding English in sign have attempted to graft the morphological structure of English onto the signs of ASL. According to Supalla and McKee the unintended result of these well-intentioned efforts has been to create systems of Manually Coded English (MCE) that violate constraints on sign complexity first noticed by Battison (1978). These constraints limit the number of distinct handshapes or distinct places of articulations within signs. Even children with little or no exposure to ASL seem to expect sign systems to fit within these constraints. Supalla and McKee suggest that these constraints have their origins in perceptual strategies by which children segment the sign stream. Supalla and McKee’s chapter (Chapter 6) reminds us that linguistic and psycholinguistic work on the structure of signed languages can have very immediate consequences for educational practice in the education of deaf children. The research reported in this part of the volume speaks to some possible causes and effects of an organizational difference between spoken and sign language phonology. Each author discusses similarities and differences between sign and speech, bringing us closer to understanding how and why the phonological representations of signs could be different from those of spoken words. The three chapters by Hohenberger et al., Corina and Hildebrandt, and Supalla and McKee report on behavioral data, interpreting their results with an eye toward this modality issue, whereas Channon and Brentari approach the problem from a predominantly theoretical perspective, offering insights into the phonological representation for sign language. The convergence of behavioral, statistical, and theoretical research methods on a central problem – the extent to which the sensory and articulatory modality of a language shapes its phonological structure – yields a surprisingly consistent picture. What we learn is that many elements of the linguistic representations of signs are guided by their paradigmatic nature, and that this organization is likely associated with the ability of our visual systems to process a large number of linguistic features simultaneously. Perceptual and production consequences naturally follow. heather knapp and adrianne cheek


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References Battison, Robbin. 1978. Lexical borrowing in American Sign Language. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press. Bellugi, Ursula and Patricia Siple. 1974. Remembering with and without words. In Current problems in psycholinguistics, ed. Fran¸cois Bresson. Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. Bellugi, Ursula, Edward S. Klima, and Patricia Siple. 1975. Remembering in signs. Cognition 3:93–125. Brentari, Diane. 1990. Licensing in ASL handshape. In Sign language research: Theoretical issues, ed. Ceil Lucas, 57–68. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Brentari, Diane. 1998. A prosodic model of sign language phonology. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Corina, David P. 1996. ASL syllables and prosodic constraints. Lingua 98:73–102. Corina, David P., Howard Poizner, Ursula Bellugi, Tod Feinberg, Dorothy Dowd, and Lucinda O’Grady-Batch. 1992. Dissociation between linguistic and non-linguistic gestural systems: A case for compositionality. Brain and Language 43:414–447. Corina, David P. and Wendy Sandler. 1993. On the nature of phonological structure in sign language. Phonology 10:165–207. Klima, Edward S. and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Liberman, Alvin M., and Michael Studdert-Kennedy. 1977. Phonetic perception. In Handbook of sensory physiology, ed. R. Held, H. Leibowitz, and H. L. Tueber. Heidelberg: Springer-Verlag. Liddell, Scott K. 1984. THINK and BELIEVE: Sequentiality in American Sign Language. Language 60:372–392. Liddell, Scott K. and Robert E. Johnson. 1986. American Sign Language compound formation processes, lexicalization, and phonological remnants. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 4:445–513. Liddell, Scott K. and Robert E. Johnson. 1989. American Sign Language: the phonological base. Sign Language Studies 64:197–278. Perlmutter, David M. 1993. Sonority and syllable structure in American Sign Language. In Phonetics and phonology: Current issues in ASL Phonology, ed. Geoffrey R. Coulter, 227–261. New York: Academic Press. Sandler, Wendy. 1993. Sign language and modularity. Lingua 89:315–351. Stokoe, William C. 1960. Sign language structure. Studies in linguistics occasional papers 8. Buffalo: University of Buffalo Press. Stokoe, William C., Dorothy C. Casterline, and Carl G. Croneberg. 1965. A dictionary of American Sign Language. Washington, DC: Gallaudet College Press. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 1987. American Sign Language linguistic and applied dimensions, 2nd edition. Boston, MA: College-Hill Press.

2

Modality differences in sign language phonology and morphophonemics Diane Brentari

2.1

Introduction

In this chapter it is taken as given that phonology is the level of grammatical analysis where primitive structural units without meaning are combined to create an infinite number of meaningful utterances. It is the level of grammar that has a direct link with the articulatory and perceptual phonetic systems, either visual–gestural or auditory–vocal. There has been work on sign language phonology for about 40 years now, and at the beginning of just about every piece on the topic there is some statement like the following: The goal is, then, to propose a model of ASL [American Sign Language] grammar at a level that is clearly constrained by both the physiology and by the grammatical rules. To the extent that this enterprise is successful, it will enable us to closely compare the structures of spoken and signed languages and begin to address the broader questions of language universals . . . (Sandler 1989: vi)

The goal of this chapter is to articulate some of the differences between the phonology of signed and spoken languages that have been brought to light in the last 40 years and to illuminate the role that the physiological bases have in defining abstract units, such as the segment, syllable, and word. There are some who hold a view that sign languages are just like spoken languages except for the substance of the features (Perlmutter 1992). I disagree with this position, claiming instead that the visual–gestural or auditory–vocal mode of communication infiltrates the abstract phonological system, causing differences in the frequency of a phenomenon’s occurrence, as well as differences due to the signal, articulatory, or perceptual properties of signed and spoken languages (see Meier, this volume). I argue that these types of differences should lead to differences in the phonological representation. That is, if the goal of a phonological grammar is to express generalizations as efficiently and as simply as possible – and ultimately to give an explanatory account of these generalizations – then the frequency with which a given phenomenon occurs should influence its representation. A grammar should cover as many forms as possible with the fewest number of exceptions, and frequent operations should be easy to express, while infrequent 35

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or non-occurring operations should be difficult to express. These premises are some of the most basic of those in phonology (Chomsky and Halle 1968, cf. 330–335; Clements 1985). If a true comparison of signed and spoken language phonology is to be made, representations must take issues of frequency into account. The areas of differences between signed and spoken languages that I describe and the organization of the chapter are given in (1). (1)

Areas of difference described in this chapter: a. perceptual differences between audition and vision (Section 2.2.1); b. articulatory differences: the roles that articulators play in the system (Section 2.2.2); c. distribution of information in the signal: (i) consonants; (ii) vowels (Section 2.3); d. segmental differences: (i) the need for segments; (ii) the relationship between segments and root nodes (Section 2.4); e. lexical differences: (i) word shape; (ii) minimal pairs (Section 2.5).

In the background throughout this chapter are these questions: r How much can the phonological representation of spoken languages elegantly and efficiently express sign language phonology? r How far into the phonology do the effects of the phonetics (modality) reach? r At what level of description are phonological units equally applicable to signed and spoken languages? r In terms of lost insight about human language, how much cost is there if sign languages are expressed through spoken language representations that are not designed for them? 2.2

Bases for differences in signed and spoken languages

In Section 2.1 differences between vision and audition that might play a role in phonological evolution are discussed, and in Section 2.2 fundamental points about sign language phonology that figure in the discussions to follow are discussed. 2.2.1

Some key differences between vision and audition

Many aspects of vertical and horizontal processing take place in both vision and audition (Bregman 1990). “Vertical processing” is a cover term for our ability to process various input types presented roughly at the same time (e.g. pattern recognition, paradigmatic processing); “horizontal temporal processing” is our ability to process temporally discrete inputs into temporally discrete events (e.g. ordering and sequencing of objects in time, syntagmatic processing). There are, however, differences in the inherent strengths built into the design of the visual

Modality differences in phonology and morphophonemics

37

Table 2.1 Differences between vision and audition

Speed of signal transmission Peripheral temporal resolution Spatial arrangement information

Vision

Audition

229, 274 km/s 25–30 ms peripheral

331 m/s 2 ms nonperipheral

and auditory systems due to signal transmission and peripheral processing, and a few of these are listed in Table 2.1. In general, the advantage in vertical processing tasks goes to vision, while the advantage in horizontal processing tasks goes to audition. For example, the time required for a subject to detect temporally discrete stimuli is a horizontal processing task. Hirsch and Sherrick (1961) show that the time required for the higher order task of recognition, or labeling of a stimulus, called “threshold of identification” (involving more cortical involvement) is roughly the same in both vision and audition, i.e. approximately 20 ms. The time required for the more peripheral task of detection – called “threshold of flicker fusion” in vision (Chase and Jenner 1993) and “threshold of temporal resolution” in audition (Kohlrausch et al. 1992) – is quite different. Humans can temporally resolve auditory stimuli when they are separated by an interval of only 2 ms, (Green 1971; Kohlrausch et al. 1992), while the visual system requires at least a 20 ms interstimulus interval to resolve visual stimuli presented sequentially (Chase and Jenner 1993). The advantage here is with audition. Meier (1993) also discusses the ability to judge duration and rate of stimulus presentation; both of these tasks also give the advantage to audition. Comparing vertical processing tasks in audition and vision – e.g. pattern recognition, localization of objects – is inherently more difficult because of the nature of sound and light transmission. To take just two examples, vision has no analogue to harmonics, and the difference between the speed of transmission of light waves vs. sound waves is enormous: 299,274 km/s for light waves vs. 331 m/s for sound waves. As a result of these major differences, I could find no tasks with exactly the same experimental design or control factors; however, we can address vertical processing in a more general way. One effect of the speed of light transmission on the perception of objects is that vision can take advantage of light waves reflected not only from the target object, but also by other objects in the environment, thereby making use of “echo” waves, i.e. those reflected by the target object onto other objects. These echo waves are available simultaneously with the waves reflected from the target object to the retina (Bregman 1990). This same echo phenomenon in audition is available to the listener much more slowly. Only after the sound waves produced by the

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target object have already struck the ear will echo waves from other objects in the environment do the same. The result of this effect is that a more threedimensional image is available more quickly in vision due, in part, to the speed at which light travels. Moreover, the localization of visual stimuli is registered at the most peripheral stage of the visual system, at the retina and lens, while the spatial arrangement of auditory stimuli can only be inferred by temporal and intensity differences of the signal between the two ears (Bregman 1990). Meier (1993; this volume) also discusses the transmission property of bandwidth, which is larger in vision, and spatial acuity, which is the ability to pinpoint accurately an object in space (Welsh and Warren 1986); both of these properties also give the advantage to vision. In sum, the auditory system has an advantage in horizontal processing, while the visual system has an advantage in vertical processing. An expected result would be that phonological representations in signed and spoken languages reflect these differences. This would not present a problem for a theory of universal grammar (UG), but it may well have an effect on proposals about the principles and properties contained in the part of UG concerned with phonology. At the end of the chapter, a few such principles for modality-independent phonology are proposed. These principles can exploit either type of language signal. 2.2.2

Introduction to sign language phonology and to the Prosodic Model

This section is a summary of results in the area of sign language phonology, in general, and in the Prosodic Model (Brentari 1998), in particular. I hold the view that a specific theory must be employed in order to illuminate areas of difference between sign and spoken languages. However, many of the topics covered in this chapter enjoy a large degree of consensus and could be articulated in several different phonological models of sign language structure. At the center of the work on sign language phonology are several general questions concerning how much of a role such factors as those discussed in Section 2.2.1 play in our phonological models. Basically, signed words consist of a set of three or four parameters, each consisting of featural material, as shown in Table 2.2. It is often assumed that these parameters all have more or less equal status in the system. I would attribute the Table 2.2 Traditional “parameters” in sign language phonological structure and one representative feature Parameters Features

Handshape [open]

Place of articulation [distal]

Movement [direction]

Orientation [pronation]


39

source of this assumption to transcription systems, which create symbols for a sign’s handshape (henceforth called articulator), place, and movement (Stokoe 1960; Stokoe et al. 1965), and orientation (Battison 1978) without investigating carefully how these properties fit together as a phonological system.1 This is not to underestimate the contribution that this early, groundbreaking work made to the field; however, each of these parameters was found to have at least one contrastive property, which creates a minimal pair in such systems of transcription, and so each parameter was considered equal.2 In general, the more recent innovations in phonological theory – such as autosegmental phonology (Goldsmith 1976), feature geometry (Clements 1985; McCarthy 1988; Clements and Hume 1995), and prosodic phonology (Nespor and Vogel 1986; Itô 1986) – have made it possible for further common ground in sign language and spoken language phonological work to be established. To take one example, it is relatively easy to make the connection between the sign language entities in Table 2.2 and feature geometry. The traditional sign language parameters (i.e. articulator, movement, etc.) are class nodes, and the features (i.e. [open], [direction], etc.) are terminal nodes dominated by class nodes; however, the class nodes in Table 2.2 are not equal if we consider these parameters according to how much consensus there is about them. As soon as we move beyond the articulator parameter (the one on which there is the most consensus) or place of articulation (on which there is a fair amount of consensus), then there are controversies about major issues. The controversies include: r the necessity of movement and orientation parameters as phonological entities; r the nature and type of other possible structures, such as the segment and mora; and r the articulatory and/or perceptual bases for features in sign languages. Let us now turn to the Prosodic Model (Brentari 1998), since this is the phonological model that is used in this chapter. In the Prosodic Model, features are organized hierarchically using feature geometry. The primary branches of structure are given in (2a); the complete structure is given in (2b). Phonological theory emphasizes that feature organization is based on phonological behavior rather than the physical nature of the articulators, it is worth discussing this point in sign language phonology in some detail, because it brings to light a difference in the phonetic roles of signed and spoken language articulators. 1

2

Stokoe’s notation was never intended to be a phonological representation, but rather a notation system; however, this distinction between a notation system and a phonological representation is not always well understood. For other overviews of sign language phonology, please see Coulter and Anderson (1993), Corina and Sandler (1993), Brentari (1995), and van der Hulst and Mills (1996).

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Diane Brentari

(2)

Prosodic Model feature geometry

a. root inherent features (IF) articulator (A)

prosodic features (PF)

place of articulation (POA)

b. root

Prosodic Features

Inherent Features Articulator nonmanual manual

non-manual

Place (POA) −y

y z

h2

h1

x

arm

hand

body2

location

body1

head

body0

torso

non-selected fingers selected fingers joints

fingers1

non-base base fingers0 thumb quantity

arm

point of reference

h2

Fnm

setting path

Fpath

Fsetting

orientation aperture Faperture


(a)

(b)

41

(c)

Figure 2.1a The handshape parameter used as an articulator in THINK; 2.1b as a place of articulation in TOUCH; 2.1c as a movement in UNDERSTAND

The “vocal mechanism” in speech includes the tongue, lips, and larynx as the primary active articulators, and the teeth, palate, and pharyngeal area as target places of articulation (i.e. the passive articulators). Although there are exceptions to this – since the lips and glottis can be either active or passive articulators – other articulators have a fixed role. The tongue is always active and the palate always passive in producing speech, so to some extent structures have either an active or a passive role in the articulatory event. This is not the case in sign languages. Each part of the body involved in the “signing mechanism” – the face, hands, arms, torso – can be active or passive. For example, the hand can be an active articulator in the sign THINK, a passive articulator in the sign TOUCH, and a source of movement in the sign UNDERSTAND; this is shown in Figure 2.1. The lips and eyes are the articulator in the bound morpheme CAREFUL(LY) but the face is the place of articulation in the sign BEAUTIFUL. This is one reason models of sign language phonology must be grouped by phonological role; however, just as in spoken languages, articulatory considerations play an important secondary role in these groupings. Within the Prosodic Model features are divided into mutually exclusive sets of inherent features (IF) and prosodic features (PF). Movement features are grouped together as prosodic features, based on the use of the term by Jakobson et al. (1951), who stated that prosodic features are “defined only with reference to a time series.” The inherent features are the articulator and place of articulation features. The articulator refers to features of the active articulator, and place of articulation (POA) refers to features of the passive articulator. The relation of the articulator with the POA is the orientation relation. There are several arguments for organizing features in the representation this way, rather than according to articulatory structure. A few are given here; for more details and for additional arguments see Brentari (1998). When considering their role in the phonological grammar, not only the number of distinctive features, but also the complexity and the type of constraints on each of the IF and

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(a)

Diane Brentari

(b)

(c)

Figure 2.2 ASL signs showing different timing patterns of handshape and path movement: 2.2a INFORM shows the handshape and path movement in a cotemporal pattern; 2.2b DESTROY shows the handshape change happening only during the second part of the bidirectional movement; 2.2c BACKGROUND shows a handshape change occurring during a transitional movement between two parts of a repeated movement

PF feature trees must be considered. The number of IFs is slightly larger (24) than the number of PFs (22). The structure of the IF branch of structure is also more complex and yields more potential surface contrasts than the PF branch. In addition, the constraints on outputs of the PF tree are much more restrictive than those on the outputs of the IF tree. A specific PF branch constraint sets a minimum of 1 and a maximum of 3 of movement components in any lexical item, and another PF branch constraint limits the number of features from each class node to 1 in stems. PFs are also subject to principles of Alignment, which insure that a sign with movements involving both handshape and arm movements will have the correct surface pattern; examples of such signs are INFORM, DESTROY, and BACKGROUND, shown in Figure 2.2. The IF branch is subject to fewer and more general constraints, and IFs are generally realized across the entire prosodic word domain. PFs also have the ability to undergo “movement migration,” while IFs do not. A joint of the arm or even the torso can realize movements specified as handshape movements (i.e. aperture changes) or wrist movements. Some of the reasons for movement migration that have been documented in the literature: lexical emphasis (Wilbur 1999; 2000), linguistic maturation (Meier et al. 1998; Holzrichter and Meier 2000; Meier 2000), loudness (Crasborn 2001), and motor impairment due to Parkinson’s Disease (Brentari and Poizner 1994). Finally, PFs participate in the operation of “segment generation,” while IFs do not. This is explained further in Section 4 below. Within the Prosodic Model, the following units of analysis are used, and they are defined as follows: (3)

Units of phonological analysis a. prosodic word (p-words): the phonological domain consisting of a stem + affixes;


43

b. root node: the node at which the phonological representation interfaces with the morphosyntactic features of the form; “the node that dominates all features and expresses the coherence of the melodic material as a phonological unit” (Clements and Hume 1995); c. syllable: i. the fundamental parsable prosodic unit; ii. (in sign language) a sequential, phonological movement; d. weight unit: a branching class node in the PF tree, which adds complexity to the syllable nucleus and can be referred to by phonological and morphophonological processes; e. timing unit (segment): the smallest concatenative unit on the timing tier (X-slots). P-words and root nodes are defined in ways recognizable to phonologists working on spoken languages, and these need no further explanation; let us therefore address the syllable, timing unit, and weight unit in turn. Sign language syllables – defined in terms of the number of sequential movements in a form – are necessary units in the phonological grammar, because if one considers the grammatical functions that these units serve for a sign language such as American Sign Language (ASL), they parallel those served by the syllable in spoken languages. The reason for calling such units syllables is related to facts regarding language acquisition, sonority, minimal word constraints, and word-internal two-movement combinations.3 First, regarding language acquisition, it has been shown that Deaf babies learning ASL as a first language engage in prelinguistic babbling whose structure is that of a linguistic movement (Petitto and Marentette 1991; Petitto 2000). This type of movement functions in a similar way to vocal babbling in babies acquiring a spoken language in temporal patterning, and it is distinct from rhythmic, excitatory motoric activity. This activity involving movement serves as the basic prosodic structure upon which other aspects of the phonology, such as hand-internal movements and secondary movements, can be added. Second, regarding sonority, there is evidence that movements (hand-internal movements, wrist movements, elbow movements, and shoulder movements) are subject to an evaluative procedure that decides the relative suitability of a movement for constructing a syllable nucleus, movement according to the joint producing it. Movements articulated by a more proximal joint are preferred over those articulated by more distal joints. For example, movements articulated by the wrist and forearm are preferred over movements articulated by the knuckles in loan signs that come from fingerspelling. This type of evaluation mechanism in sign phonology is similar to the one in spoken languages that evaluates the local maximum of sonority to determine a sound’s suitability as a syllable nucleus. I consider this visual 3

Perlmutter (1992) has independently arrived at the same conclusion.

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salience a type of sign language sonority, which is a property of syllables. Third, regarding minimal word constraints, no sign is well formed unless it has a movement of some type (Wilbur 1987; Stack 1988; Brentari 1990a; 1990b). When one is not present in the underlying form, there are insertion rules that repair such forms. Finally, regarding two-movement combinations, there are restrictions on the types of movement sequences a signed word may contain (Uyechi 1995:104–106), as compared with a sequence of two signs or polymorphemic forms. Bidirectional repeated, unidirectional repeated, and circle + straight movements are possible combinations. Straight + circle movement combinations are disallowed as are all combinations containing an arc movement. Timing units (or segments) in the Prosodic Model are defined as minimal concatenative units, i.e. the smallest temporal phonological slice of the signal. Attempts to establish a phonology that contrasts movement and stasis as the two types of fundamental phonological entities in sign languages (Liddell and Johnson 1983; 1989; Liddell 1984) were gradually replaced when new evidence came to light showing that all stasis in a monomorphemic sign is predictable from phonological context. Such contexts include position in a phrase (Perlmutter 1992) and contact with the body (Liddell and Johnson 1986; Sandler 1987). There are no minimal pairs in ASL that involve segmental geminates in any of the sign parameters.4 Abstract timing units are necessary, however, in order to account for a variety of duration-based, phonological operations, such as lengthening effects, that target several prosodic class nodes at once (handshape, setting, etc.) when they occur in the same phonological context (e.g. word-initially or word-finally). In the Prosodic Model, the number of timing units is predictable from the PFs in a form; these are calculated as follows: Path features (located at the path node) and abstract PFs (located at the node at the top of the PF tree) generate two “x” timing slots; all other PFs generate one timing slot. The class node with the highest number of potential segments determines the number of segments in the word. A process of alignment then takes place (right to left) so that all features associate to their correct segments. The features of each of the class nodes in the PF tree are given in (4). IFs do not generate any timing slots at all. (4)

4

Segment generation in the Prosodic Model (from Brentari 1998: chapter 5) a. two segments generated: prosodic node features: [straight], [arc], [circle]; path features: [direction], [tracing], [pivot], [repeat];

I am considering only forms from different morphological paradigms, so FLY and FLY-THERE would not be a minimal pair. Perlmutter (1992) refers to some signs as having geminate Positions, but the two Positions in such cases have different values, so they are not, strictly speaking, geminates.


45

b. one segment generated: setting features: [proximal], [distal], [top], [bottom], [ipsilateral], [contralateral]; wrist/orientation: [supination], [pronation], [abduction], [adduction], [flexion], [extension]; aperture: [open], [closed]. Finally, let us turn to weight units. Weight units in the Prosodic Model are assigned based on the complexity of the movement. A sequential movement may have one component (i.e. features immediately dominated by one class node in the PF tree, e.g. UNDERSTAND); these are called simple movements. A sequential movement can have more than one component as well (i.e. features at more than one class node, e.g. INFORM); these are called complex movements. Each branching class node contributes a weight unit to the structure. As we see later in this chapter, ASL phonology is sensitive to this difference. 2.3

The distribution of “consonant” and “vowel” information

All languages – both spoken and signed – are organized such that certain features are members of sets having rich paradigmatic contrast, while other features are members of sets that do not carry much contrastive power. Moreover, these (ideally mutually exclusive) feature sets are assigned to different parts of the signal. In spoken languages the former description is appropriate for the set of consonants, and the latter description appropriate for the set of vowels. The general findings in this section about sign languages are as follows. First, the IF branch of structure carries more lexical contrast than the PF branch of structure, just as consonants carry more potential for lexical contrast in spoken languages. Second, movements (PFs) function as the “medium” of the signal, just as vowels function as the medium of spoken languages. Third, movements (PFs) function as syllable nuclei in sign languages, just as vowels function as syllable nuclei in spoken languages. For these reasons, the IF branch of structure is analyzed as more consonant-like and the PF branch is analyzed as more vowel-like. Fourth, and finally, it is shown that the complexity of vowels and the complexity of movements is calculated differently in signed and spoken languages, respectively. These results lead to the differences in the distribution of vowel and consonant information in sign and spoken languages given in (5). (5) Differences between the nature of consonant (C) and vowel (V) information in signed and spoken languages: a. Cs and Vs are realized at the same time in sign languages, rather than as temporally discrete units.5 5

It is important to mention that in spoken languages it is a misconception to see Cs and Vs as completely discrete, since spreading, co-articulatory effects, and transitions between Cs and Vs may cause them to overlap considerably.

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Diane Brentari

b. With respect to movements (i.e. vowels), the phonology is sensitive to the number of simultaneous movement components present in a form. 2.3.1

Consonants and vowels in sign languages

The Hold–Movement Model of sign language phonology was the first to draw parallels between vowels in spoken languages and movements in sign languages (Liddell and Johnson 1984). There are good reasons for this, given in (6) and explained further below. (6)

Reasons for a vowel: PF analogy a. Signed words can be parsed without movements, just as spoken words can be parsed without vowels. b. In sign languages, the number of paradigmatic contrasts in the PF tree (movements) is fewer than the number of contrasts in the IF tree (articulator + POA), just as in spoken languages the number of paradigmatic contrasts in vowels is fewer than the number of consonant contrasts. c. It is the movements that make signs perceptible at long distances in a sign language, just as vowels make the signal perceptible at long distances in spoken languages, i.e. it is the “medium” of the signal. d. It is the vowels that function as syllable nuclei in spoken languages; the movements in sign languages function as syllable nuclei.

First, if the movement of a sign is removed, a native signer is still likely to be able to parse it in context, just as in spoken languages a native speaker is likely to be able to parse a word in context if the vowels are removed. In sign, this finding can be inferred from the numerous dictionaries in use that generally consist only of photographic images. For speech, this is true for derived media, such as orthographic systems without vowels, such as Hebrew (Frost and Bentin 1992), reading activities in English involving “cloze” tasks (Seidenberg 1992), as well as vowel recognition tasks in spoken words with silent-center vowels (Strange 1987; Jenkins et al. 1994). Second, the number of paradigmatic contrasts in the IF branch is much larger than the number of movement contrasts because of combinatoric principles that affect the IF and PF branches of structure. Third, works by Uyechi (1995) and Crasborn (2001) propose that “visual loudness” in sign languages is a property of movements, just as loudness in spoken languages is a property of vowels. Without movement, the information in the signed signal could not be transmitted over long distances. Fourth, as I describe in Section 2.3.2, in the sign signal it is the movements that behave like syllable nuclei. We can contrast movement features, which contribute to the dynamic properties of the signal within words, with IFs, which are specified once per word.


47

The complete set of reasons for an analogy between the IFs and consonants in spoken languages is summarized in (7); they are further explained in the following paragraph. (7)

Reasons for a consonant: IF analogy a. The IF tree is more complex hierarchically than the PF tree. b. The combinatoric mechanisms used in each yield more surface IF contrasts than PF contrasts, respectively. c. There is a larger number of features in the IF tree than in the PF tree.

These facts about IFs and PFs have already been mentioned in Section 2.2.2, but here they have new relevance because they are being used to make the consonant:IF and vowel:PF analogy. In summary, if sign language Cs are properties of the IF tree and sign language Vs are properties of the PF tree, the major difference between sign and spoken languages in this regard is that in sign languages IFs and PFs are realized at the same time. 2.3.2

Sensitivity to movement-internal components

Even though vowels are similar to movements in overall function in the grammar, as we have seen in the previous section, movements in ASL are different from vowels in the way in which their complexity is calculated. In ASL, the phonological grammar is sensitive to the number of movement components present in a word, not simply the number of sequential movements in a form. For a spoken language it would be like saying that vowels with one feature and those with more than one feature behaved differently in the vowel system; this is quite rare in spoken languages. Llogoori is one exception, since long vowels and those with a high tone are both counted as “heavy” in the system (Goldsmith 1992). In the Prosodic Model, movements with one component (defined as a single branching class node in the PF tree) are called simple movements (8); see Figure 2.1 for UNDERSTAND. Movements with more than one component are called complex movements (9); see Figure 2.2 for INFORM. (8)

Simple movement: one branching class node in the PF tree UNDERSTAND PF

DIE PF

SIT PF

aperture

orientation

path

x

x

x

x

x

x

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Diane Brentari

(9)

Complex movement: two or more branching class nodes in the PF tree

x

INFORM

STEAL

FALL

PF

PF

PF

ACCOMPLISH EASILY PF

path

path

path

nonmanual

aperture

orient

orient

aperture

aperture

x x

x

x

x

x

x

ASL grammar exhibits sensitivity to the distinction between simple and complex movements in nominalization of two types – reduplicative nominalization, and in the formation of activity verbs (i.e. gerunds) – and in word order preferences. The generalization about this sensitivity is given in (10). (10)

Movement-internal sensitivity: ASL grammar is sensitive to the complexity of movements, expressed as the number of movement components.

With regard to nominalization, only simple movements – shown in (8) – undergo either type of nominalization. The first work on noun–verb pairs in ASL (Supalla and Newport 1978) describes reduplicative nominalization: the input forms are selected by the following criteria: (a) they contain a verb that expresses the activity performed with or on the object named by the noun, and (b) they are related in meaning. The structural restrictions for reduplicative nominalization are given in (11); typical forms that undergo this operation are given in (12a–b). All of the forms in the Supalla and Newport (1978) study, which undergo reduplication, are simple movement forms.6 There are also a few reduplicative nouns which do not follow the semantic conditions of Supalla and Newport (1978), but these also obey the structural condition of being simple movements (12c–d); a typical form that undergoes reduplication is shown in Figure 2.3. (11)

6

Reduplication nominalization input conditions a. They contain a verb that expresses the activity performed with or on the object named by the noun.

The movements of both syllables are also produced in a restrained manner. I am referring here only to the nominalization use of reduplication. Complex movements can undergo reduplication in other contexts, e.g. in various temporal aspect forms.


(a)

49

(b)

Figure 2.3 Nominalization via reduplication: 2.3a CLOSE WINDOW; 2.3b WINDOW

b. They are related in meaning. c. They are subject to the following structural condition: simple movement stems. (12)

Possible reduplicative noun/verb pairs: a. reduplicated movement: CLOSE-WINDOW/WINDOW, SIT/CHAIR, GO-BY-PLANE/AIRPLANE; b. reduplicated aperture change: SNAP-PHOTOGRAPH/PHOTOGRAPH, STAPLE/STAPLER, THUMP-MELON/MELON; c. no activity performed on the noun: SUPPORT, DEBT, NAME, APPLICATION, ASSISTANT; d. no corresponding verb: CHURCH, COLD, COUGH, DOCTOR, CUP, NURSE.

Another nominalization process that is sensitive to simple and complex movements is the nominalization of activity verbs (Padden and Perlmutter 1987), resulting in gerunds. The input conditions are given in (13), with relevant forms given in (14). The movement of an activity noun is “trilled”; that is, it contains a series of rapid, uncountable movements.7 Like reduplicative nouns, inputs must be simple movements, as defined in (8).8 (13)

7

8

Activity nouns input conditions: a. simple movement stems; b. activity verbs.

This definition of “trilled movement” is based on Liddell (1990). Miller (1996) argues that the number of these movements is, at least in part, predictable due to the position of such movements in the prosodic structure. If a [trilled] movement feature does co-occur with a stem having a complex movement, it is predicted that the more proximal of the movement components will delete (e.g. LEARNING, BEGGING).

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Diane Brentari

(a)

(b)

Figure 2.4 Nominalization via trilled movement affixation: 2.4a READ; 2.4b READING

(14)

Possible activity verb/noun pairs: READ/READING (see Figure 2.4), DRIVE/DRIVING, SHOP/SHOPPING, ACT/ACTING, BAT/BATTING ∗ THROW/THROWING (violation of (13a): complex movement) ∗ KNOW/KNOWING (violation of (13b): stative verb)

The formalization of the nominalization operations for reduplicative and activity nouns is given in (15). A weight unit (WU) is formed by a branching node of the PF tree. Reduplication generates another simple movement syllable, while activity noun formation introduces a [trilled] feature at the site of the branching PF node. (15)

Formalization of input and output structures words: a. input to nominalization word

b. reduplication output word

c. activity output word

PF

PF

PF

syllable

syllable

syllable

syllable

WU class node

WU class node

WU class node

WU class node [trilled]

Another phenomenon that shows sensitivity to movement complexity is seen in the gravitation of complex movements to sentence-final position (16). This type of phenomenon is relatively well known in spoken languages, i.e. when heavy syllables have an affinity with a particular sentential position (Zec and Inkelas 1990). In (16a), the complex movement co-occurs with a person agreement verb stem (Padden 1983). In (16b) the complex movement co-occurs with a spatial agreement verb stem (Padden 1983). In (16c) the


51

complex movement occurs in a “verb sandwich” construction (Fischer and Janis 1990). In such constructions, which are a type of serial verb construction, a noun argument occurs between two instances of the same verb stem. The first instance is uninflected; the second instance, in sentence-final position, has temporal and spatial affixal morphology, which also makes the form phonologically heavy.9 (16)

Word order and syllable weight: a. in agreement verbs: i. 1 GIVE2 BOOK (simple movement: one branching PF class node) ‘I give you the book.’ ii. ? 1 GIVE2 [habitual] BOOK (complex movement: two branching PF class nodes) ‘I give you the book repeatedly.’ iii. BOOK 1 GIVE2pl [exhaustive] (complex movement: three branching PF nodes) ‘I give each of you a book.’ iv. ∗ 1 GIVE2pl [exhaustive] BOOK b. in spatial verbs: i. a PUTb NAPKIN (one branching PF class node) ‘(Someone) placed the napkin there.’ ii. ? a PUTb [habitual] NAPKIN (2 branching PF class nodes) ‘(Someone) placed the napkin there repeatedly.’ iii. NAPKIN a PUTb [exhaustive] (3 branching PF class nodes) ‘(Someone) placed a napkin at each place.’ iv. *a PUTb [exhaustive] NAPKIN c. with verb sandwich constructions (Fischer and Janis 1990): i. S-H-E LISTEN R-A-D-I-O (2 branching PF class nodes) ‘She listens to the radio.’ ii. S-H-E LISTEN R-A-D-I-O LISTEN [continuous] (LISTEN [continuous] has 3 branching PF class nodes) ‘She was continuously listening to the radio . . . ’ iii. *S-H-E LISTEN [continuous] R-A-D-I-O LISTEN

2.4

Differences concerning segments

In this section, three kinds of feature and segment behavior in sign languages are addressed. First, it will be made clear that even though segments are predictable by the features present in the structure, they are still needed by the grammar because they are referred to in the system of constraints. Second, the canonical relationship between root nodes and segments is discussed. 9

The phonological explanation may be only one part of a full account of these phenomena. Fischer and Janis (1990) propose a syntactic explanation for the verb sandwich construction.

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2.4.1

Segments: Predictable, yet required by the grammar

A segment in the Prosodic Model is defined as the minimal concatenative unit required by the grammar for timing (i.e. duration) or ordering effects.10 As described earlier, features in the PF tree generate segments, but the ones in the IF tree do not. The difference between the placement of segments in spoken and sign language phonological structure is given in (17). (17)

Spoken language hierarchy of units: segments dominate features;11 Sign language hierarchy of units: features dominate segments.

Since features predict segmental structure in the Prosodic Model, we can say that features dominate segmental structure. Despite their predictability, segments cannot be dispensed with altogether, since they are needed to capture the environment for morphophonemic operations, as is shown below. Segments are needed in order to account for several lengthening effects in ASL. Two of them are the result of morphophonemic operations: intensive affixation (18) and delayed-completive aspect affixation (19). A third is a purely phonological operation: phrase-final lengthening (20). One cannot capture lengthening effects such as these unless all of the features associated to a particular timing unit are linked together. The point is that, for each operation, signs that have one or more than one branching PF class node(s) undergo the lengthening operation in an identical way. Feature information must be gathered together into segmental units so that forms in (18b), (19b), and (20b) do not require a separate rule for each feature set affected by the rule. The sets of features can include any of those under the PF tree: nonmanual, setting, path, orientation, and aperture. A form, such as UNDERSTAND, has a handshape (aperture) change at the forehead. In the form meaning “intensive” ([18]; Klima and Bellugi 1979), and in the form meaning “delayed completive” ([19]; Brentari 1996), the duration of the initial handshape is longer than in the uninflected form. The form ACCOMPLISH-EASILY has both an aperture change and a non-manual movement (the mouth starts in an open position and then closes). Both the initial handshape and nonmanual posture are held longer in both of the complex morphological forms in (18) and (19). In the intensive form, the initial segment lengthening is the only modification of the stem. (18)

10

11

Intensive affixation: ø → xi / stem [xi Prose: Copy the leftmost segment of a stem to generate a form with intensive affixation.

Some models of sign language phonology (van der Hulst 1993; 1995) equate the root node and the segment. They are referred to as monosegmental models. In such models, all ordering or duration phenomena that involve more than one set of features, such as the phenomena discussed in this section, would need to be handled by a different mechanism. This point is also made in van der Hulst (2000).


(a)

53

(b)

Figure 2.5a UNDERSTAND (simple movement sign); 2.5b ACCOMPLISH-EASILY (complex movement sign)

a. signs that undergo this operation containing one branching PF node: UNDERSTAND, TAN, DEAD, CONCENTRATED, INEPT, GOOD, AGREE b. signs that undergo this operation containing more than one branching PF node: ACCOMPLISH-EASILY, FASCINATED, FALL-ASLEEP, FINALLY In the delayed completive form, the initial segment is lengthened, and a [trilled movement] is added to the resulting initial geminate. (19)

Delayed completive aspect: ø → xi / stem [xi [wiggle] Prose: Copy the leftmost segment of a stem and add a [wiggle] feature to generate a form with delayed completive affixation. a. signs that undergo this operation containing one branching PF node: UNDERSTAND, FOCUS, DEAD b. signs that undergo this operation containing more than one branching PF node: INFORM, ACCOMPLISH-EASILY, RUN-OUT-OF, FALLASLEEP, FINALLY

In the phonological operation of phrase-final lengthening (first discussed as Mora-Insertion in Perlmutter 1992), the final segment is targeted for lengthening, and the simple and the complex movement forms are lengthened identically (20), just as they were in (18) and (19). (20)

] p-phrase Phrase-final lengthening: ø → xi / xi Prose: At the end of a phonological phrase, copy the rightmost segment. a. signs that undergo this operation containing one branching PF node: UNDERSTAND, TAN, DEAD, FOCUS CONCENTRATED, INEPT, GOOD

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Diane Brentari

b. signs that undergo this operation containing more than one branching PF node: INFORM, ACCOMPLISH-EASILY, FASCINATED, RUN-OUTOF, FALL-ASLEEP, FINALLY Because the segment, defined as above, is needed to capture these lengthening phenomena, this is evidence that it is a necessary unit in the phonology of sign languages. 2.4.2

Root nodes and timing slots

Now we turn to how segments and root nodes are organized in the phonological representation. In spoken languages the root node has a direct relation to the timing or skeletal tier, which contains either segments or moras. While affricates and diphthongs demonstrate that the number of root nodes to timing slots is flexible in spoken languages, the default case is one timing slot per root node. The Association Convention (21) expresses this well, since in the absence of any specification or rule effects to the contrary, the association of tones to tone bearing units (TBUs) proceeds one-to-one. (21)

Association Convention (from Goldsmith 1976): In the absence of any specification or rule effects to the contrary, TBUs are associated to tones, one-to-one, left-to-right.

This canonical one-to-one relationship between root nodes and segments does not hold in sign languages, since the canonical shape of root to segments corresponds closely to that of a diphthong, i.e. one root node to two timing slots. For this reason, I would argue that segments are not identified with the root, but are rather predictable from features. Thus, the canonical ratio of root nodes to timing slots in sign languages is 1:2, rather than 1:1 as it is in spoken languages, as given in (22). (22)

The canonical ratio of root nodes to segmental timing slots in sign languages is 1:2, rather than 1:1 as it is in spoken languages.

This situation is due to two converging factors. First, segments are predictable from features, but they are also referred to in rules (18)–(20), so I would argue that their position in the representation should reflect this, placing feature structures in a position of dominance over segments. Second, there is no motivation for assigning the root node either to the IF or the PF node only.12 The inventory of surface root-to-segment ratios for English and ASL are given in 12

Space does not permit me to give a more detailed set of arguments against these alternatives here.


55

(23)–(24). A schema for the root-feature-segment relation for both spoken and signed languages is given in (25a–b).13 (23)

Spoken language phonology: root-segment ratios (English):

a. 1:1 x

‘dot’ x

[dat] x

b. 2:1 x

root d

root a

root t

root d

(24)

‘dude’ x x

[u:] x

root u

root d

c.

1:2 x

‘jot’ x

[d] x

root root d

root a

root t

Sign language phonology: root-to-segment ratios (ASL):

a. 2:1 UNDERSTAND root IF

b. 3:1 DESTROY root

PF

IF

c. 4:1 BACKGROUND root

PF [–] [–]

IF

PF [–] [–]

aperture path

[tracing] [repeat: 180°]

[open] IF x

(25)

x

path

[direction:>1] [repeat]

x xx x

x x x

Schema of root/feature/segment relationship: Spoken language

Sign language

a. schema x

b. schema root

root

melody

melody

x

To summarize, at the segmental level of sign language structure as defined in the Prosodic Model, there are two differences between signed and spoken 13

These are surface representations; for example, in English (23b) the /u/ in /dud/ is lengthened before a voiced coda consonant resulting in an output [du:d]. Also, in ASL (24b) DESTROY, the input form generates four segments due to the two straight path shapes located at the highest node of the PF tree; however, since the second and third segments are identical in bidirectional movements (indicated by the [repeat: 180o ] feature), one is deleted to satisfy the Obligatory Contour Principle (OCP) (Brentari 1998; Chapter 5).

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Diane Brentari

language: segments are necessary – but predictable – and the canonical relationship between roots and segments is 1:2, rather than 1:1. 2.5

Differences at the lexical level

The differences in this section are concerned with the preferred form that words assume in signed and spoken languages, and how words are recognized as distinct from one another in the lexicon. 2.5.1

Word shape

One area of general interest within the field of phonology is crosslinguistic variation in canonical word shape; that is, what is the preferred phonological shape of words across languages. For an example of such canonical word properties, many languages – including the Bantu language Shona (Myers 1987) and the Austronesian language Yidin (Dixon 1977) – require that all words be composed of binary branching feet. With regard to statistical tendencies at the word level, there is also a preferred canonical word shape exhibited by the relationship between the number of syllables and morphemes in a word, and it is here that sign languages differ from spoken languages. In general, sign language words tend to be monosyllabic (Coulter 1982), even when the forms are polymorphemic. The difference exhibited by the canonical word shape of sign language words is given in (26). (26)

Unlike spoken languages, sign languages have a proliferation of monosyllabic, polymorphemic words.

This relationship between syllables and morphemes is a hybrid measurement, which is both phonological and morphological in nature, in part due to the shape of stems and in part due to the type of affixal morphology in a given language. A language, such as Chinese, contains words that tend to be monosyllabic and monomorphemic, because it has monosyllabic stems and little overt morphology (Chao 1968). A language, such as West Greenlandic, contains stems of a variety of shapes and a rich system of affixal morphology that lengthens words considerably (Fortescue 1984). In English, stems tend to be polysyllabic, and there is relatively little affixal morphology. In sign languages, stems tend to be monosyllabic (i.e. one movement; Coulter 1982). There is a large amount of affixal morphology, but most of these forms are less than a segment in size; hence, polymorphemic and monomorphemic words are typically not different in word length. Table 2.3 schematizes the canonical word shape in terms of the number of morphemes and syllables per word.


57

Table 2.3 Canonical word shape according to the number of syllables and morphemes per word

Monomorphemic Polymorphemic

Monosyllabic

Polysyllabic

Chinese Sign languages

English West Greenlandic

Except for the relatively rare morphemic change by ablaut marking past preterit in English (sing-present/sang-preterit; ring-present/rangpreterit), or for person marking in Hua (Haiman 1979), indicated by the [±back] feature on the vowel, spoken languages tend to create polymorphemic words by adding sequential material in the form of segments or syllables. Even in Semitic languages, which utilize non-concatenative morphology, lexical roots and grammatical vocalisms alternate with one another in time; they are not layered onto the same segments used for the root as they are in sign languages. This difference is a remarkable one; in this regard, sign languages constitute a typological class unto themselves. No spoken language has been found that is both as polysynthetic as sign languages and yet makes the morphological distinctions primarily in monosyllabic forms. An example of a typical polymorphemic, monosyllabic structure in a sign language is given in Figure 2.6.14

2.5.2

Minimal pairs

This final section addresses another word-level phenomenon, i.e. the notion of minimal pairs in signed and spoken languages. Even though minimal pairs in phonological theory have traditionally been based on a single feature, advances in phonological representation make it possible to have minimal pairs based on a variety of types of structure. Any pair of forms that differs crucially in one and only one respect (whatever the structural locus of this difference) can be called a minimal pair. For example, the difference between the signs AIRPLANE and MOCK is based on the presence vs. absence of a thumb structure: AIRPLANE has a thumb structure and MOCK does not; see Figure 2.7 and the structures in (27). For reasons having to do with the way the thumb behaves with respect to the other fingers, the thumb is a branch of structure, not a feature, yet this type of difference can still be referred to as a minimal pair. 14

The number of morphemes present in this form is subject to debate. The handshape might be 1–2 morphemes, and the movement (with its beginning and ending points) may be 1–4 morphemes. Orientation of the hands toward each other, and in space, adds another 1–3 morphemes. Until a definitive analysis is achieved, I would say that the total number of morphemes for this form is minimally five and maximally nine.

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Figure 2.6 Polymorphemic form with the following morphological structure (conservative estimate of 6 morphemes): “two (1); hunched-upright-beings (2); make-their-way-forward (3); facing-forward (4); carefully (5); side-byside (6)”

(27)

a. AIRPLANE IF

b. MOCK IF

fingers1

fingers1 fingers0

fingers0 quantity [one] [all]

thumb [unopposed]

ref [ulnar]

quantity [one] [all]

ref [ulnar]

Unlike the other sections of this chapter, the central point of this section is to show that minimal pairs in signed and spoken language are not fundamentally different, but that a different structure is required for sign languages if we are to see this similarity. If features dominate segments, as I have described is the case for sign languages, this similarity is quite clear; if segments dominate features, as is the case for spoken languages, the notion of the minimal pair in sign language becomes difficult to capture. The reason for this is as follows. If the handshapes for AIRPLANE and MOCK are minimally different, then all things in other structures being equal, the signed words in which they occur should also be minimally different. This is the intuition of native signers, and this is the basis upon which Stokoe (1960) and Klima and Bellugi (1979) established minimal pairs. In the Hold–Movement Phonological Model proposed by Liddell and Johnson (1983; 1989) – which is a model where segments dominate features – such signs are not minimal pairs,


(a)

59

(b)

Figure 2.7a Handshape used in AIRPLANE with a thumb specification; 2.7b Handshape used in MOCK with no thumb specification

because MOCK and AIRPLANE are signs where differences exist in more than one segment. MOCK and AIRPLANE each have four segments, and the handshape is the same for all of the segments. In the Prosodic Model, barring exceptional circumstances, IFs spread to all segments. Prosodic and Hold–Movement representations of AIRPLANE (hsa ) and MOCK (hsb )

(28)

a. Hold–Movement model representations AIRPLANE X X X X hsa

hsa hsa

hsa

b. Prosodic Model representations AIRPLANE root IF

PF [–] [–]

hsa

X

MOCK X X

X

hsb

hsb hsb

hsb

MOCK root PF

IF [–]

path

[–]

hsb

path


x

xx

x


x xx

x

I have suppressed the details of the representations that are not relevant here. The important point is that the handshape features are represented once in Prosodic Model, but once per segment in the Hold–Movement Model. The Prosodic

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Model representation allows handshape and place of articulation features to be represented only once, and then to be allowed to spread to all segments. Sandler (1986; 1987) first proposed the autosegmental representation for handshape; the autosegmental representation for place of articulation is a more recent innovation in the Prosodic Model (Brentari 1998) and in the Dependency Phonology Model (van der Hulst 1993; 1995). Without the type of structure expressed in (28b), most forms considered to be minimally different by native signers are not counted as such. 2.6

What comprises a modality-independent phonology?

Within the Prosodic Model, the menu of units available to signed and spoken languages is the same, but because of modality effects, the relative distribution of the units within the grammar is different. Based on the evidence in this chapter, I conclude that modality is – at least in part – responsible for the phonological differences between signed and spoken languages. To be precise, these differences are due to the advantage of the visual system to process more paradigmatic information more quickly and with greater accuracy. We have seen that the grammar has exploited these advantages in several ways. These structural differences warrant a different organization of the units within the representation in several cases. Some properties of phonology that are common to signed and spoken languages are given in (29), and some that are different in (30). (29)

Phonological properties common to both sign and spoken languages: a. There is a part of structure that carries most of the paradigmatic contrasts: consonants in spoken languages; handshape + Place (IFs) in sign languages. b. There is a part of structure that comprises the medium by which the signal is carried over long distances: vowels in spoken languages; movements in sign languages. c. There is a calculation of complexity carried out at levels of the structure independent from the syntax: i.e. in prosodic structure. d. One of the roles of the root node is to function as a liaison point between the phonology and the syntax, gathering all of the feature information together in a single unit.

(30)

Phonological properties that differ between sign and spoken languages; in sign languages: a. The default relationship of root node to timing slots is 1:2, not 1:1. b. Timing units are predictable, rather than phonemic. c. Cs and Vs are realized at the same time, rather than sequentially. d. The phonology is sensitive to the number of movement components present.


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e. The calculation of prosodic complexity is more focused on paradigmatic structure. This chapter has shown that all of the divergent properties in (30) are due to greater sensitivity to paradigmatic structure. This sensitivity can be traced to the advantage of the visual system for vertical processing. Certain structural rearrangement and elaboration is necessary to represent sign languages efficiently, well beyond simply re-naming features. The common properties in (29) are not nearly as homogeneous in nature as the divergent ones, since they are not attributable to physiology; these are likely candidates for UG. Acknowledgments I am grateful to Arnold Davidson, Morris Halle, Michael Kenstowicz, Richard Meier, Mary Niepokuj, Cheryl Zoll, and two anonymous reviewers for their helpful discussion and comments on a previous version of this chapter. 2.7

References

Battison, Robbin. 1978. Lexical borrowing in American Sign Language. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press. Bregman, Albert S. 1990. Auditory scene analysis. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Brentari, Diane. 1990a. Theoretical foundations of American Sign Language phonology. Doctoral dissertation, University of Chicago. (Published 1993, University of Chicago Occasional Papers in Linguistics, Chicago, IL.) Brentari, Diane. 1990b. Licensing in ASL handshape. In Sign language research: Theoretical issues, ed. Ceil Lucas, 57–68. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Brentari, Diane. 1995. Sign language phonology: ASL. In A handbook of phonological theory, ed. John Goldsmith, 615–639. New York: Basil Blackwell. Brentari, Diane. 1996. Trilled movement: Phonetic realization and formal representation. Lingua 98:43–71. Brentari, Diane. 1998. A prosodic model of sign language phonology. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Brentari, Diane and Howard Poizner. 1994. A phonological analysis of a deaf Parkinsonian signer. Language and Cognitive Processes 9: 69–99. Chao, Y. R. 1968. A grammar of spoken Chinese. Berkeley: University of California Press. Chase, C. and A. R. Jenner. 1993. Magnocellular visual deficits affect temporal processing of dyslexics. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 682:326–329. Chomsky, Noam and Morris Halle. 1968. The sound pattern of English. New York: Harper and Row. Clements, George N. 1985. The geometry of phonological features. Phonology Yearbook 2:225–252. Clements, George N. and Elizabeth V. Hume. 1995. The internal organization of speech sounds. In A handbook of phonological theory, ed. John Goldsmith, 245–306. New York: Basil Blackwell.

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Corina, David, and Wendy Sandler. 1993. On the nature of phonological structure in sign language. Phonology 10:165–207. Coulter, Geoffrey. 1982. On the nature of ASL as a monosyllabic language. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Linguistic Society of America, San Diego, CA. Coulter, Geoffrey, ed. 1993. Phonetics and phonology, Vol. 3: Current issues in ASL phonology. San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Coulter, Geoffrey and Stephen Anderson. 1993. Introduction. In Coulter, ed. (1993), 1–17. Crasborn, Onno. 2001. Phonetic implementation of phonological categories in Sign Language of the Netherlands. Doctoral dissertation, HIL, Leiden University. Dixon, R. M. W. 1977. A grammar of Yidiny. Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press. Emmorey, Karen and Harlan Lane. 2000. The signs of language revisited: Festschrift for Ursula Bellugi and Edward Klima. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Fischer, Susan and Janis Wynn. 1990. Verb sandwiches in American Sign Language. In Current trends in European sign language research, ed. Siegmund Prillwitz and Tomas Vollhaber, 279–294. Hamburg, Germany: Signum Press. Fortescue, Michael D. 1984. West Greenlandic. London: Croom Helm. Frost, Ram and Shlomo Bentin. 1992. Reading consonants and guessing vowels: Visual word recognition in Hebrew orthography. In Orthography, phonology, morphology and meaning, ed. Ram Frost and Leonard Katz, 27–44. Amsterdam: Elsevier (North-Holland). Goldsmith, John. 1976. Autosegmental phonology. Doctoral dissertation, MIT, Cambridge, MA. (Published 1979, New York: Garland Press.) Goldsmith, John. 1992. Tone and accent in Llogoori. In The joy of syntax: A festschrift in honor of James D. McCawley, ed. D. Brentari, G. Larson, and L. MacLeod, 73–94. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Goldsmith, John. 1995. A handbook of phonological theory. Oxford/Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell. Green, David M. 1971. Temporal auditory acuity. Psychological Review 78:540–551. Haiman, John. 1979. Hua: A Papuan language of New Guinea. In Languages and their status, ed. Timothy Shopen, 35–90. Cambridge, MA: Winthrop. Hirsh, Ira J., and Carl E. Sherrick. 1961. Perceived order in different sense modalities. Journal of Experimental Psychology 62:423–432. Holzrichter, Amanda S. and Richard P. Meier. 2000. Child-directed signing in ASL. In Language acquisition by eye, ed. Charlene Chamberlain, Jill P. Morford and Rachel Mayberry, 25–40. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Itô, Junko. 1986. Syllable theory in prosodic phonology. Doctoral dissertation, University of Massachusetts, Amherst. (Published 1989, New York: Garland Press.) Jakobson, Roman, Gunnar Fant, and Morris Halle. 1951, reprinted 1972. Preliminaries to speech analysis. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Jenkins, J., W. Strange, and M. Salvatore. 1994. Vowel identification in mixed-speaker silent-center syllables. The Journal of the Acoustical Society of America 95:1030– 1035. Klima, Edward S. and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kohlrausch, A., D. Püschel, and H. Alphei. 1992. Temporal resolution and modulation analysis in models of the auditory system. In The Auditory processes of speech:


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From sounds to words, ed. Marten E. H. Schouten, 85–98. Berlin/NewYork: Mouton de Gruyter. Liddell, Scott. 1984. THINK and BELIEVE: Sequentiality in American Sign Language. Language 60:372–392. Liddell, Scott. 1990. Structures for representing handshape and local movement at the phonemic level. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1, ed. Susan Fischer and Patricia Siple, 37–65. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Liddell, Scott and Robert E. Johnson. 1983. American Sign Language: The phonological base. Manuscript, Gallaudet University, Washington, DC. Liddell, Scott, and Robert E. Johnson. 1986. American Sign Language compound formation processes, lexicalization, and phonological remnants. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 4:445–513. Liddell, Scott and Robert E. Johnson. 1989. American Sign Language: The phonological base. Sign Language Studies 64:197–277. McCarthy, John. 1988. Feature geometry and dependency: A review. Phonetica 41: 84–105. Meier, Richard P. 1993. A psycholinguistic perspective on phonological segmentation in sign and speech. In Coulter, ed. (1993), 169–188. Meier, Richard P. 2000. Shared motoric factors in the acquisition of sign and speech. In Emmorey and Lane, 333–356. Meier, Richard P., Claude Mauk, Gene R. Mirus., and Kimberly E. Conlin. 1998. Motoric constraints on early sign acquisition. In Proceedings for the Child Language Research Forum, Vol. 29, ed. Eve Clark, 63–72. Stanford, CA: CSLI. Miller, Christopher. 1996. Phonologie de la langue des signes québecoise: Structure simultanée et axe temporel. Doctoral dissertation, Université du Québec a` Montreal. Myers, Scott. 1987. Tone and the structure of words in Shona. Doctoral dissertation, University of Massachusetts, Amherst, MA. Nespor, Marina, and Irene Vogel. 1986. Prosodic phonology. Dordrecht: Foris. Padden, Carol. 1983. Interaction of morphology and syntax in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. (Published 1988, Garland Press, New York.) Padden, Carol and David Perlmutter. 1987. American Sign Language and the architecture of phonological theory. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 5:335–375. Perlmutter, David. 1992. Sonority and syllable structure in American Sign Language, Linguistic Inquiry 23:407–442. Petitto, Laura A. 2000. On the biological foundations of human language. In Emmorey and Lane, 449–473. Petitto, Laura A. and Paula Marentette. 1991. Babbling in the manual mode: Evidence for the ontogeny of language. Science 251:1493–1496. Sandler, Wendy. 1986. The spreading hand autosegment of American Sign Language. Sign Language Studies 50:1–28. Sandler, Wendy. 1987. Sequentiality and simultaneity in American Sign Language phonology. Doctoral dissertation, University of Texas, Austin, Texas. Sandler, Wendy. 1989. Phonological representation of the sign. Dordrecht: Foris. Seidenberg, Mark. 1992. Beyond orthographic depth in reading. In Orthography, phonology, morphology and meaning, ed. Ram Frost and Leonard Katz, 85–118. Amsterdam: Elsevier (North-Holland).

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Stack, Kelly. 1988. Tiers and syllable structure: Evidence from phonotactics. M.A. thesis, University of California, Los Angeles. Stokoe, William C. 1960. Sign language structure: An outline of the visual communication systems of the American Deaf. Studies in Linguistics, Occasional Papers 8. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press. Stokoe, William C., Dorothy C. Casterline, and Carl G. Croneberg. 1965. A dictionary of American Sign Language on linguistic principles. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press. Strange, Winifred. 1987. Information for vowels in formant transitions. Journal of Memory and Language 26:550–557. Supalla, Ted and Elissa Newport. 1978. How many seats in a chair? The derivation of nouns and verbs in American Sign Language. In Understanding language through sign language research, ed. Patricia Siple, 91–133. New York: Academic Press. Uyechi, Linda. 1995. The geometry of visual phonology. Doctoral dissertation, Stanford University, Stanford, CA. Published 1996, CSLI, Stanford, California. van der Hulst, Harry. 1993. Units in the analysis of signs. Phonology 102:209–241 van der Hulst, Harry. 1995. The composition of handshapes. University of Trondheim, Working Papers in Linguistics, 1–17. Dragvoll, Norway: University of Trondheim. van der Hulst, Harry. 2000. Modularity and modality in phonology. In Phonological knowledge: Conceptual and empirical issues, ed. Noel Burton-Roberts, Philip Carr, and Gerard J. Docherty. Oxford: Oxford University Press. van der Hulst, Harry and Anne Mills. 1996. Issues in sign linguistics: Phonetics, phonology and morpho-syntax. Lingua 98:3–17. Welch, R. B. and D. H. Warren. 1986. Intersensory interactions. In Handbook of perception and human performance, Volume 1: Sensory processes and perception, ed. by Kenneth R. Boff, Lloyd Kaufman, and James P. Thomas, 25–36. New York: Wiley. Wilbur, Ronnie. 1987. American Sign Language: Linguistic and applied dimensions, 2nd edition. Boston, MA: Little, Brown. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 1999. Stress in ASL: Empirical evidence and linguistic issues. Language and Speech 42:229–250. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 2000. Phonological and prosodic layering of non-manuals in American Sign Language. In Emmorey and Lane, 213–241. Zec, Draga and Sharon Inkelas. 1990. Prosodically constrained syntax. In The phonology-syntax connection, ed. Sharon Inkelas and Draga Zec, 365–378. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

3

Beads on a string? Representations of repetition in spoken and signed languages Rachel Channon

3.1

Introduction

Someone idly thumbing through an English dictionary might observe two characteristics of repetition in words. First, segments can vary in the number of times they repeat. In no, Nancy, unintended, and unintentional, /n/ occurs one, two, three, and four times respectively. In the minimal triplet odder, dodder, and doddered, /d/ occurs one, two, and three times. A second characteristic is that words repeat rhythmically or irregularly: (1)

(2)

Rhythmic repetition: All the segments of a word can be temporally sliced to form at least two identical subunits, with patterns like aa, abab, and ababab. Examples: tutu (abab), murmur (abcabc). Irregular repetition: any other segment repetition, such as abba, aabb, abca, etc. Examples: tint (abca), murmuring (abcabcde).

If asked to comment on these two characteristics, a phonologist might shrug and quote from a phonology textbook: [An] efficient system would stipulate a small number of basic atoms and some simple method for combining them to produce structured wholes. For example, two iterations of a concatenation operation on an inventory of 10 elements . . . will distinguish 103 items . . . As a first approximation, it can be said that every language organizes its lexicon in this basic fashion. A certain set of speech sounds is stipulated as raw material. Distinct lexical items are constructed by chaining these elements together like beads on a string. (Kenstowicz 1994:13)

Repetition, the phonologist might say, is the meaningless result of the fact that words have temporal sequences constructed from segments. Because languages have only a limited segment set, then by chance some sequences include a varying number of repeating segments. This explains Nancy and the others. As for rhythmic and irregular repetition, by chance some segment sets repeat exactly and some do not. And that would be the end of the story. These data, however, are interesting when compared to sign language data. Sign phonologists agree that signs have the same function in sign language 65

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that words have in spoken language.1 Because their function is the same, one might reasonably expect that the representations are similar and that signs, like words, have segment sequences. If so, then segment repetition should behave similarly. Irregular repetition should be common, and contrasts should occur between one, two, three, or more repetitions within a sign. But this is not what happens. The following seem to be correct generalizations for signs (with certain exceptions and explications to be given along the way): (3) (4) (5)

Two, three, or more repetitions are not contrastive in signs. Simple signs have only rhythmic repetition. Compound signs have only irregular repetition.

The simple sign TEACH shows that number of repetitions is not contrastive; the sign illustrates rhythmic repetition patterns. Both hands are raised to face level. The hands move away from the face, parallel to the ground, then back several times: out–in–out–in. The out–in motion may occur two times (abab), three times (ababab), or more times without altering the sign’s meaning. The compound TEACH-PERSON ‘teacher’ illustrates irregular repetition. TEACH is made as described. Then the hands move in parallel lines down the sides of the body (PERSON). The outward–inward repeated direction change precedes a completely different motion down the body that does not repeat, for an irregular repetition pattern of out–in–out–in–down (ababc). This chapter explores the possibility that repetition is different in words and signs because their phonological structures are different. Words have contrastive repeating temporal sequences that must be represented with repeating segments. Simple signs do not have contrastive repetition sequences, and a single segment can, and should, represent them. They function like spoken words, but their representations are like spoken segments. Section 2 discusses contrast in the number of repetitions, and Section 3, rhythmic and irregular repetition. Signs and words are shown to be dissimilar for both characteristics. Section 4 presents two representations: Multiseg with multiple segments, and Oneseg with one segment for simple signs and two for compounds. Most examples are American Sign Language (ASL) from Costello (1983) and use her glosses. Only citation forms of signs, or dictionary entries, are included here, so inflected verbs, classifier predicates, and fingerspelling are not considered. 1

Signs are not morphemes, because signs can have multiple morphemes (PARENTS has morphemes for mother and father). Translation shows that signs are similar to words. Because most sign translations are one word/one sign, it seems reasonable to assume that signs are not phrases, but words, and attribute the occasional phrasal translation to lexical gaps on one side or the other. While a sign may properly be called a “word” or a “sign word”, here “word” refers to spoken words only, to keep the distinction between sign and speech unambiguous.

Representations of repetition

3.2

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Number of repetitions in words and signs

In words, the number of segment repetitions is contrastive: some words are different only because a segment repeats zero, one, two, three, or more times, as in the minimal pairs and triplets for English in (6) (repeated segments are emboldened). (6)

derive/derived, ten/tent, lob/blob, fat/fast/fasts, eat/ seat/seats, lip/slip/ slips, Titus/tightest, artist/tartest, classicist/classicists

Languages with single segment affixes can be expected to have minimal pairs similar to seat/seats, and random minimal pairs like lob/blob can undoubtedly be found in many languages. In sign, the number of repetitions is not contrastive. Lane (1984) gives an example of an attempt to use number of repetitions in signs contrastively from the eighteenth century. The Abbé de l’Epée was one of the first hearing people to use a sign language to teach deaf people. However, not satisfied with the language of his pupils, he tried to improve it by inventing methodical signs, as in this example: To express something past, our pupil used to move his hand negligently toward his shoulder . . . We tell him he must move it just once for the imperfect, twice for the perfect, and three times for the past perfect. (Lane 1984:61)

The Abbé’s signs for the perfect and pluperfect are impossible because they use a contrastive number of repetitions. In an ordinary, non-emphatic utterance, two or three repetitions are usual, but variation in number of repetitions cannot produce a minimal pair. Repetition in speech can be defined in terms of segments, but because the question raised here is what representation a sign has, notions of segments within a sign cannot be relied on to define the repetition unit. A pre-theoretic notion of motion in any one direction is used instead. TEACH is an example of repeated outward and inward motion.2 If the action is circular, and the hand returns to the beginning point and continues around the same circle, this also counts as repetition. In ALWAYS, the index finger points up and circles several times. In arcing signs, each arc counts as a motion, as in GRANDMOTHER, with repeating arcs moving outward from the chin, where the hand does not return to the starting point to repeat, but instead each arc begins at the last arc’s ending point. Repeated handshape changes, such as opening and closing are 2

For some signs with a back and forth motion, such as PAPER and RESEARCH, the action returning the hands to the original starting point is epenthetic (Supalla and Newport 1978; Perlmutter 1990; Newkirk 1998), and the underlying repetition pattern is a–a. For other signs, such as TEACH or DANCE, the underlying repetition pattern is ab–ab. This difference does not affect the arguments presented here (both types have noncontrastive number of repetitions, and are rhythmic) so abab is used for both.

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also included, as in SHOWER, where the bunched fingers repeatedly open to a spread handshape. The body parts involved in repetition vary. Signs can repeat hand contact with a body part (MOTHER), knuckle bending (COLOR), wrist bending (FISH), path motions (ME TOO), and so on. Brentari (1998) and Wilbur and Petersen (1997) have argued that signs where the hand draws an x-shape, such as HOSPITAL or ITALY, have repeated motion at a 90◦ angle from the first motion. These signs are not counted as repeating, but even if they were, they would not be a problem for the generalizations and proposals made here, because they are not irregularly repeating, and do not contrast for number of repetitions. About half of all signs are nonrepeating, as in GOOD, which moves from chin to space once. Nonrepeating and repeating signs can contrast. In THAT, the strong hand in a fist strikes the weak hand palm once; in IMPOSSIBLE the strong hand strikes several times. Other pairs are given in (7). (7)

a. COVER-UP/PAPER, SIT/CHAIR (Supalla and Newport 1978); b. ON/WARN, CHECK/RESEARCH, ALMOST/EASY (Perlmutter 1990); c. MUST/SHOULD, CAN/POSSIBLE (Wilcox 1996).

While nonrepetition can contrast with repetition, two, three, four, or more repetitions of an action in a sign cannot change the meaning. Fischer (1973) may have been the first to observe this. Battison (1978:54) notes that “. . . signs which require at least two beats have no absolute limit on the actual number of iterations . . . the [only] difference is between signs with one beat and those with iterations.” Others note this fact in passing (Liddell and Johnson 1989:fn. 15, Uyechi 1996:117, fn. 9) or implicitly recognize it by not specifying the number of repetitions, as in Supalla and Newport (1978). Anderson (1993:283) observes that ASL signs can repeat “a basic gesture an indefinite number of times. Such a pattern of repetition has no parallel in spoken languages, as far as I can see.” If number of repetitions is predictable, it cannot be contrastive. Coulter (1990) reports that stressing a sign can increase the number of repetitions. Wilbur and Nolen (1986) report that in an elicited set of 24 signs, significantly more repetitions occurred when stressed than unstressed. Miller (1996) argues that number of repetitions is predictable based on the position within a sentence. Holzrichter and Meier (2000) report that native-signing parents use more repetitions to attract their child’s attention. Some signs such as MORE have as many as 16 repetitions, with higher numbers positively correlated with neutral space (compared to on the face), and with nonpath (compared to path) signs. Sign language dictionary keys provide additional evidence. If number were contrastive, then distinct symbols should indicate this. Instead, zigzagging or


69

repeated lines show repetition, with no correspondence between number of zigzags and number of repetitions. Some typical repetition symbols, from the Israeli Sign Language (ISL) key, are two arrows pointing in the same direction described as “repeated movement” and two sets of small arcs described as “vibrating or shaking movement, vibrating fingers” (Savir 1992). The symbol keys for nine ASL dictionaries or books about ASL were examined: Stokoe, Casterline, and Croneberg 1965; Ward 1978; Sternberg 1981; Costello 1983; Fant 1983; Kettrick 1984; Shroyer and Shroyer 1984; Reikhehof 1985; Supalla 1992). Thirteen keys for dictionaries, books, or long articles for 13 other sign languages were also examined: British (Kyle and Woll 1985), Enga (Kendon 1980), Hong Kong, Taiwanese, and Japanese (Uno 1984; Japanese Federation of the Deaf 1991), Indonesian (Pertama 1994), Indo-Pakistan (Zeshan 2000), ISL (Savir 1992), Korean (Son 1988), Mayan (Shuman and Cherry-Shuman 1981), Moroccan (Wismann and Walsh 1987), New Zealand (Kennedy and Arnold 1998), South African (Penn, OgilvyForeman, Simmons, and Anderson-Forbes 1994), and Taiwanese (Chao, Chu, and Liu 1988). No dictionary has symbols showing that number is contrastive. 3.3

Rhythmic and irregular repetition in words and signs

The term rhythmic repetition is used to allow a modality-neutral comparison with sign, but in speech, it is almost the same as total reduplication, except that it also includes words like English tutu, where repetition is not a productive morphological process. More than two repetitions seem rare in speech: the LLBA database has only one record for triplication (in Ewe, Ameka 1999). How many words have rhythmic or irregular repetition? The example words and exercises in the introduction and Chapters 1–3 of Kenstowicz 1994 – which included 69 different languages/dialects, from 17 different language families – were counted.3 Using a phonology textbook avoided orthography problems, and offered a large crosslinguistic sample.4 Table 3.1 shows that if a word repeats, about 99% of the time it will be irregular repetition (Fox ahpemeki ‘above’, Ewe feflee ‘bought’).5 About 1% of repeating words have rhythmic repetition (Chukchee tintin ‘ice’). Table 3.1 also shows repetition counts for short 3 4

5

Some examples are excluded because they use normal orthography in whole or part or are duplicates. Although any one example set is not representative of spoken languages, the examples as a whole seem representative with respect to irregular and rhythmic repetition, because repetition types are unconnected to the phonological patterns being illustrated in the examples, and because the phonological patterns illustrated are so varied. An email inquiry to the author (Kenstowicz, personal communication) confirmed that he did not consciously favor or disfavor repetition types. This total includes 253 words with geminate, or geminate-like segments (Basque erri ‘village’), which have no other segment repetition. Without these geminates, irregular repetition would be 35.6 percent of the total examples.

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Table 3.1 Words: Irregular and rhythmic repetition as percentages of all repetition Irregular %

Rhythmic

n

n

n

%

Kenstowicz data

2104

1002

98.7

13

1.3

IPA Handbook data American English Amharic Arabic Bulgarian Cantonese Catalan Croatian Czech Dutch French Galician German Hausa Hebrew, Non-Oriental Hindi Hungarian Igbo Irish Japanese Korean Persian Portuguese Sindhi Slovene Swedish Taba Thai Tukang Besi Turkish Total IPA

113 94 85 92 129 113 106 83 107 100 95 107 164 89 125 99 111 126 88 60 91 93 110 92 107 96 131 117 65 2988

11 57 61 23 0 13 51 45 29 12 18 18 86 44 14 45 27 20 43 40 25 15 22 50 47 44 66 49 44 1019

100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 0.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 97.7 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 97.7 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 99.7

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3

0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 2.3 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 2.3 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.3

Total all words

5092

2021

99.2

16

0.8

narratives for 29 different languages from the International Phonetic Association (IPA) (1999).6 The Kenstowicz and IPA results are similar, and strongly confirm that the rhythmic repetition percentage in words is extremely low. 6

All but the Taba narrative are translations of the same story (an Aesop’s fable about the north wind and the sun), and all have some duplicate word tokens (the word wind occurred four times in the American English narrative). The American English example has 113 word tokens, but


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Table 3.2 Signs: Irregular and rhythmic repetition as percentages of all repetition Irregular n

n

Rhythmic

%

n

%

Simple signs ASL IPSL ISL NS MSL Total simple signs

1135 282 1490 370 114 3391

0 0 0 0 0 0

0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0

527 87 648 124 31 1417

100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0

Compound signs ASL IPSL ISL NS MSL Total compounds

75 6 124 95 35 335

19 2 85 47 10 163

100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0

0 0 0 0 0 0

0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0

1210 288 1614 465 149 3725

19 2 85 47 10 163

3.5 2.2 11.6 27.5 24.4 10.3

527 87 648 124 31 1413

96.5 97.8 88.4 72.5 75.6 89.7

All signs ASL IPSL ISL NS MSL Total all signs

Table 3.2 shows the number and percentage of signs with rhythmic and irregular repetition. All signs from the following sources were examined: Costello 1983 for ASL, Savir 1992 for ISL, Japanese Federation of the Deaf 1991 for Japanese Sign Language (Nihon Syuwa or NS), the appendix of Zeshan 2000 for IndoPakistan Sign Language (IPSL), the appendix to Shuman and only 64 different types; the Korean example has 60 tokens and 48 different types. All tokens are counted (because of the time-consuming nature of determining which words are duplicates). This does not seriously affect the percentages of rhythmic and irregularly repeating words because the percentage of types and tokens should be approximately the same, since there is no reason that tokens should include more examples of repetition or nonrepetition than types do. In the Korean example, 63 percent of the types, and 67 percent of the tokens have irregular repetition. In the American English example, 13 percent of the types and 10 percent of the tokens have irregular repetition. (Neither example has rhythmically repeating words.) There are only three rhythmically repeating words in the entire IPA sample, none of which have more than one token, so the major point that irregular repetition is overwhelmingly preferred to rhythmic is true regardless of whether tokens or types are counted.

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Cherry-Shuman 1981 for a Yucatec Mayan sign language used in the village of Nohya (MSL).7 ASL is one of the oldest sign languages and may have the largest population of native and nonnative signers of any sign language. MSL is at the other extreme. Nohya’s population of about 300 included about 12 deaf people. The oldest deaf person seems to have been the first deaf person in Nohya, and claims to have invented the language (Shuman 1980:145), so the language is less than 100 years old. As the table shows, language age and number of users does not significantly affect repetition patterns. Compounds, the concatenation of two signs to make a single sign, fall along a continuum from productive to lexical, terms loosely borrowed from Liddell and Johnson (1986). Productive compounds strongly resemble the two signs they are formed from. Any signer can identify the two parts. Examples are TEACH-PERSON ‘teacher’, SHOWER-BATHE ‘shower’, SLEEP-CLOTHES ‘pajamas’ (Costello 1983), and FLOWER-GROW ‘plant’ (Klima and Bellugi 1979:205). These signs can have irregular repetition.8 7

8

Occasionally, a dictionary lists the same sign on different pages. Because there is no simple way to ensure that each sign is only counted once, each token is counted. This should not affect the reported percentages. The ISL dictionary has one ambiguous symbol: a circle with an arrowhead, specified in the key as “full circle movement.” It is impossible to tell whether those cycles occur once or more than once. In some signs, such as (ocean) WAVE or BICYCLE, iconicity strongly suggests that the circular motion repeats. Furthermore, in ASL most circular signs repeat. Therefore, all 105 signs with this symbol count as rhythmically repeating. Email to Zeshan resolved several symbols for IPSL. A closed circle with an arrow counts as repeating, an open circle as nonrepeating. Hands opening and closing count as repeating. In NS, repetition may be undercounted, because pictures and descriptions do not always show repetition, though iconicity suggests it. For example, HELP is described as “pat the thumb as if encouraging the person.” But pat is not specified as repeated, and the picture does not show repetition, so it is not counted as repeating. MSL signs that use aids other than the signer’s own body (pulling the bark off a tree for BARK) are omitted. Only productive compounds are systematically distinguished in the dictionaries. The ASL, NS, and MSL dictionaries have written descriptions as well as pictures, and the compilers usually indicate which signs they consider compounds. The ASL dictionary indicates compounds by a “hint” (“X plus X”) and/or with two pictures labeled 1 and 2; the IPSL and NS have two pictures labeled 1 and 2. The MSL dictionary usually indicates which are compounds, but some judgments are needed. For example, BIRD, an upward point, followed by arm flapping, is coded as a compound. The ISL dictionary does not explicitly recognize compounds, and has no descriptions, but productive compounds have two pictures, instead of the normal one. (Many signs can be identified as compounds, because the two parts can be found as separate signs elsewhere.) However, some signs that clearly are not compounds also have two pictures; usually, signs with handshape changes. Those ISL signs with two pictures where the difference is only one handshape, place, or orientation change are therefore counted as simple signs. Including these two-picture signs as simple signs decreases the count of rhythmically repeating compound signs. The irregular repetition count is not affected, because none of these signs has irregular repetition. Because the other dictionaries have almost no rhythmically repeating compounds, and these signs do not look like compounds, the choice seems justified. Klima and Bellugi (1979) list tests for whether two signs are compounds or phrases, but these cannot be used in a dictionary search. So some signs counted as compounds are probably phrases. Including all but the most obvious (such as how are you) was preferred to omitting signs nonsystematically.


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Lexical compounds have been so changed from their two-sign origin that in almost every respect they look like noncompound signs. Often, only historical evidence identifies a compound origin. An example is ASL DAUGHTER, where the flat hand touches the jaw and then the elbow crook, from GIRL (the fist hand draws the thumb forward along the jaw line) and BABY (the two arms cradle an imaginary baby and rock back and forth). The sources do not identify these lexical compounds as compounds. They cannot be identified as such without knowing the language, and so are counted as simple signs. From here forward, noncompounds and lexical compounds are called simple signs, and the productive compounds, compounds. Table 3.2 supports the generalizations for repetition shown in (8), (9), and (10). (8) (9) (10)

Simple signs repeat rhythmically, not irregularly. Compound signs repeat irregularly, not rhythmically. Rhythmic repetition is common in signs instead of rare as in speech.

Other researchers have observed generalizations (8) and (9). Uyechi (1996:118) notes that “a well formed repeated gesture is articulated with two identical gestures.” Supalla (1990:14–15) observes that simple signs can only have reduplication (i.e. rhythmic repetition): ASL signs show restricted types of syllabic structure . . . Coulter (1982) has argued that simple signs are basically monosyllabic. He has suggested that the multi-syllabic forms that exist in ASL are all either reduplicated forms or compounds (excluding the category of fingerspelled loans). (Note that a compound is not a good example of a simple sign since it consists of two signs.) Among the simple signs, Wilbur (1987) pointed out that there is no ASL sign with two different syllables, as in the English verb “permit.” The only multisyllabic signs other than compounds are with reduplicated syllables.

Table 3.2 shows that simple signs only repeat rhythmically,9 confirming generalization (8), and that compound signs only repeat irregularly, confirming generalization (9). Rhythmic repetition in repeating words occurs about 1 percent of 9

Four irregularly repeating signs are excluded from the simple sign counts. Costello does not recognize SQUIRREL as a compound. Nevertheless, this sign seems analyzable as a compound in which the contact with the nose or chin is a reference to a squirrel’s pointed face and the second part a reference to the characteristic action of a squirrel holding its paws near the upper chest. ISL SICK, SMART, and NAG each have only one picture, implying they are simple signs. However, SICK and NAG both have two places – one at the forehead and one on the hand – and are probably compounds. The drawing for SMART, which may be misleading, has an unusual motion that seems to be a straight motion followed by wiggling. Including these as simple signs would change the percentage of simple signs with rhythmic repetition from 100 percent to 99.7 percent. Costello recognizes three rhythmically repeating signs as compounds, PENNY, NICKEL, and QUARTER. For each, Costello uses the wording “x plus x” which is one of the guides to whether she considers a sign a compound. However, these three signs are clearly highly assimilated lexical compounds, with a single place (forehead), and a single motion (outward, with simultaneous finger wiggling for QUARTER). They are therefore counted as simple signs.

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the time, as compared to 100 percent in simple signs, confirming generalization (10). A further generalization not seen in the tables is: (11)

Signs have only three irregular patterns.

The patterns are limited because compounds are a concatenation of two simple signs, which are either rhythmically repeating or nonrepeating, and produce only three possible patterns, abab–c, a–bcbc, and abab–cdcd.10 (12)

a. Repeating followed by nonrepeating (abab–c) TEACH-PERSON ‘teacher’: hand moves out, in, out, in, down b. Nonrepeating followed by repeating (a–bcbc) DRY-CIRCLE ‘dryer’: hand moves ipsilaterally, then in circles c. Repeating followed by repeating (abab–cdcd ) SHOWER-BATHE ‘shower’: hand opens, closes, opens, closes, then moves down, up, down, up

In speech, irregular repetition (which is not limited to compounds) can have any pattern, as in tint (abca) or unintended (abcbdebfcf ). If similar patterns occurred in compound signs, signs like (13) with a repetition pattern the same as unintended, would occur, but they do not. (13)

An impossible sign: The hand moves up–down–in–down–out– ipsilateral–down–contralateral–in–contralateral

To summarize, words have an overwhelming preference for irregular repetition; number of repetitions is contrastive, and any irregular repetition pattern can occur. Signs have an overwhelming preference for rhythmic repetition, number of repetitions is not contrastive, simple signs only repeat rhythmically, compounds only repeat irregularly, and only three irregular repetition patterns occur. 3.4

Representing the data: Multiseg and Oneseg

Up to this point, the goal has been to make the repetition facts explicit and to compare these facts in speech and sign. Other researchers have also recognized 10

Note that repetition often deletes: TEACH-PERSON can be pronounced as a single outward motion followed by a downward motion. This does not affect the point here, which is that if compounds repeat on a part, they can only have three possible patterns. A fourth pattern is nonrepeating followed by nonrepeating, which produces a nonrepeating compound, not of interest here. Note that two rhythmically repeating signs will not usually produce a rhythmically repeating compound. By definition a rhythmically repeating sign must have two or more identical subunits, so two signs have at least four subunits ab, ab, cd, and cd. Unless ab and cd are very similar, the concatenated compound cannot be rhythmically repeating. Over time, of course, these productive compounds do alter to become lexical compounds that are rhythmically repeating or nonrepeating.


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most observations made here, usually as footnotes, literally or figuratively, to other points. Because of this prior recognition, there should be little argument about the major typological generalizations presented here. The next question must be why: what difference between speech and sign encourages this difference in repetition characteristics? The introduction alluded to a reasonable explanation for speech: words are segment strings. Add to this the fact that in strings longer than two, irregular repetition is statistically more likely than rhythmic repetition.11 Consider the simple language in (14) with string lengths of four and a two-segment inventory: a and b. (Because the strings in this case are longer than the number of possible elements, all 16 possible strings repeat.) (14)

Irregularly repeating strings: abba, aaab, aaba, abaa, baaa, aabb, bbaa, baab, abbb, babb, bbab, bbba Rhythmically repeating strings: abab, baba, aaaa, bbbb

If these, and only these, strings are possible, then this language has 75 percent irregular repetition and only 25 percent rhythmic repetition. It turns out that for any reasonable segment inventory size and string length, chance levels of rhythmic repetition are below 1 percent (Channon, 2002). Obviously, in natural spoken languages, many constraints prevent the occurrence of many strings, and not every segment is equally likely to occur (in English, s is more common than z).12 The proportion of irregular to rhythmic strings also varies depending on how many possible segments a language has, and how long the strings are. In spite of these complicating factors, the high percentage of irregular repetition and the tiny percentage of rhythmic repetition are essentially as predicted by chance. Current phonological theories, including autosegmental phonology, consider words to be strings, so it seems intuitively reasonable that the irregular and rhythmic repetition distribution in speech is explained as a primarily chance effect of segment string permutations. But if this is a reasonable explanation for speech, then how should the opposing sign data be explained? If rhythmic repetition occurs at chance levels in speech, and if signs, like words, are segment strings, then rhythmic repetition should be a tiny percentage of all repetition. Instead, it is the only repetition type occurring in simple signs. Why are words and simple signs so different? 11

12

A one-segment string cannot repeat; a two-segment string can only repeat rhythmically. Irregular repetition can only occur in strings of three and more segments. Note the difference from repetition as a segment feature, where one-segment signs can repeat rhythmically and twosegment signs can repeat irregularly. These constraints are likely to operate against both irregular and rhythmic strings, so they would be unlikely to explain why rhythmic is so dispreferred. For example, a constraint that restricts codas to nasals would eliminate many possible irregularly repeating words like tat or district, but it would also eliminate rhythmically repeating words like murmur.

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Why are simple signs and compound signs so different? Why do compound signs have only three irregular repetition patterns? I propose that all the repetition facts for signs can be economically explained if simple signs are not segment strings, but single segments, and if repetition is not caused by string permutations, but instead by a feature [repeat]. To show this, I compare the characteristics of a multisegmental and single segment representation, here abbreviated to Multiseg and Oneseg. Before comparing the two representations, first consider an unworkable, but instructive, minimal representation, which allows only one occurrence of any feature in one unordered segment. A word like da can be represented, because d and a have enough disjoint features to identify them. Example (15) shows a partial representation. (Order problems are ignored here, but a CV syllable structure can be assumed which allows da but not ad. See also footnote 15 below.) Although this representation can handle a few words, it cannot handle repetition, either rhythmic as in dada or irregular as in daa or dad, because each feature can only occur once. (15)

da as one segment [da] [stop]

[coronal]

[low]

Multiseg is a powerful solution to this representation’s problems. With its multiple sequenced segments, it records how many times, and when, a feature occurs. Example (16) shows rhythmic repetition in dada and (17) shows irregular repetition in dad. (16)

Multiseg: dada as four segments [d] [stop]

(17)

[a]

[coronal]

[low]

[d] [stop]

[a]

[coronal]

[low]

Multiseg: dad as three segments [d] [stop]

[coronal]

[a] [low]

[d] [coronal]

[stop]

Multiseg can generate any irregular repetition pattern. While this is correct for words, it is too powerful for signs, which only have three irregular patterns. Multiseg systematically overgenerates non-occurring signs with a variety of irregular patterns, as shown in (18).


(18)

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Multiseg: Impossible sign with abcbd irregular repetition pattern []

[]

[]

[]

[]

near eye

near ear

near nose

near ear

near mouth

Multiseg represents number of repetitions contrastively, so da, dada, and dadada are contrastive with two, four, and six segments respectively. In signs, Multiseg correctly represents THAT (19) and IMPOSSIBLE (20) contrastively. (19)

Multiseg: THAT Y handshape

(20)

[]

[]

near palm of weak hand

palm of weak hand

Multiseg: IMPOSSIBLE with two repetitions Y handshape []

[]

[]

[]

near palm

palm

near palm

palm

But Multiseg must incorrectly represent each form of IMPOSSIBLE contrastively, as shown in (20) with two repetitions and (21) with three repetitions. (21)

Multiseg: IMPOSSIBLE with three repetitions Y handshape []

[]

[]

[]

[]

[]

near palm

palm

near palm

palm

near palm

palm

Even worse, because number of repetitions has no determinate upper limit, Multiseg has not just two, but an indeterminately large number of contrastive representations for the same sign. Instead of overgenerating non-occurring signs as in the irregular repetition patterns, here it is overgenerating representations,

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an equally serious problem. Finally, Multiseg cannot explain the sharp contrast between simple and compound signs in terms of rhythmic and irregular repetition, since it makes no special distinction between simple and compound forms. Oneseg is a much less powerful solution, which is nevertheless a better fit for simple signs and compounds. Oneseg has one segment for simple signs, two segments for compounds and adds a feature [repeat]. Brentari (1998),13 Perlmutter (1990), and others have proposed similar features for repetition. The default value for [repeat] is that whatever changes in the sign repeats. A sign with handshape change repeats the handshape change: SHOWER opens and closes the hand repeatedly. If the hand contacts a body part, the contact is repeated: MOTHER contacts the chin repeatedly. If the hand moves along a path, as in TEACHER, the path repeats.14 Like other features, [repeat] cannot occur more than once in a segment. The representation for da (15) does not change, but Oneseg can represent words that repeat as a whole (rhythmic repetition): (22) shows dada. (22)

Oneseg: dada/dadada as one segment [] [repeat]

[coronal]

[stop]

[low]

Number of repetitions cannot be contrastive, so dada, dadada, dadadada, etc. all have the same representation, because Oneseg, unlike Multiseg, can only distinguish between one and more than one. While this is not the correct representation for speech, it is correct for signs, since, as Section 2 showed, signs only contrast repeating and nonrepeating, and cannot contrast number of repetitions. Examples (23) and (24) show the minimal pair THAT and IMPOSSIBLE, as represented in Oneseg. (23)

Oneseg: THAT [] palm of weak hand

13 14

Y handshape

Her [repeat] feature, however, has more details than needed here. A few signs have more than one change, and some constraint hierarchy probably controls this. For example, in signs with both a handshape change and a path motion – as in DREAM – it may be generally true that only the handshape change repeats. This issue may have more than one solution, however, and further details of [repeat], and its place in a possible hierarchical structure, are left for future research.


(24)

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Oneseg: IMPOSSIBLE [] [repeat]

palm of weak hand

Y handshape

Because Oneseg allows only global or rhythmic repetition in simple signs, this explains why all simple signs have rhythmic repetition. Oneseg cannot represent irregular repetition in simple words, as in daa, daddaad, or aadad. A single segment cannot represent the irregularly repeating compound TEACHPERSON, because deciding which features repeat is impossible.15 However, because Oneseg can add a segment for compounds, then irregularly repeating compounds are possible. Example (25) shows an abab–c example, TEACHPERSON. (25)

Oneseg: TEACH-PERSON as two segments TEACH []

[repeat]

O handshape

in front of face

PERSON [] [out]

[in]

[down]

in front of body

B handshape

The three possible irregular repetition patterns are: r Both segments have [repeat]: abab–cdcd. r The first segment has [repeat], the second does not: abab–c. r The first segment does not have [repeat], the second does: a–bcbc. r (If neither segment repeats, it is a nonrepeating compound a–b.) These three patterns are exactly the patterns listed in generalization (11) above. To summarize, Multiseg allows rhythmic and irregular repetition, and only a contrastive number of repetitions, without distinguishing between simple and compound words or signs. These are the characteristics seen in words. It overgenerates for signs, because it allows irregular repetition in both simple and 15

TEACH-PERSON as a single segment also suffers from order problems: which direction, handshape, or place comes first. Even in TEACH, the reader may wonder how order can be handled in Oneseg, because TEACH has two directions. The order problems of TEACH-PERSON as a single segment are an additional reason why a single segment is not a successful representation for compounds. But simple signs like TEACH are not a problem for a single segment. If needed, direction features can sequence place features (because TEACH has only one place this is not needed), handshape features can be sequenced by a handshape change feature (Corina 1993), and so on. Direction features themselves are only sequenced by constraints. Perlmutter (1990) has pointed out that signs with repeating motion out from and toward the body move out first, so this would determine the direction sequence for TEACH. Note that using features to sequence other features is only possible for short, constrained sequences, but only short, constrained sequences are seen in simple signs. For further discussion, see Crain 1996.

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compound signs, and any irregular repetition pattern. It represents many sets of signs that are systematically non-occurring, and produces multiple representations for existing signs. Oneseg allows only rhythmic repetition in simple forms, only three irregularly repeating patterns in compounds, and only a noncontrastive number of repetitions. These are the characteristics seen in simple and compound signs. While Oneseg cannot possibly represent all possible words, it can represent the repetition facts in sign. An important goal in linguistics is to use the least powerful representation, i.e. the representation that allows all and only the attested language forms. Undergeneration is bad, but so is overgeneration. If Oneseg can represent all signs, and predict systematic gaps in the lexicon that Multiseg cannot, it is preferable to Multiseg for signs. Two important points need to be mentioned. The first is that a sign unit does not have to be a “segment”. What is essential is some unit of time, which could be segmental, syllabic or other. One can disagree, as Wilbur (1993) does, with the statement that any phonological representation of a sign or word must have at least one segment. But it should be noncontroversial to claim that any phonological representation for a sign or word must have at least one unit of time. Multiseg and Oneseg are intended to look at the two logical possibilities of one timing unit or more than one timing unit with as little additional apparatus as possible. What must happen if signs or words have multiple timing units, or only one timing unit? Because the phonological representations assumed here have little detail, “timing unit” could be substituted for every occurrence of “segment” (when referring to sign languages), because here segment is only one possible instantiation of a single timing unit. This use of segment, however, implies that segments are structurally unordered, or have no internal timing units. Not every phonologist has so understood segment. For example, van der Hulst’s (2000) single segment sign representation is an ordered segment with multiple timing units, and therefore an example of a Multiseg representation, not Oneseg. If the two representations are understood as generic multiple or single timing unit representations, then Multiseg is the basis for all commonly accepted representations for speech, as well as almost all representations proposed for signs, including the multisegmental representations of Liddell and Johnson (1989), Sandler (1989), and Perlmutter (1993), and those using other units such as syllable, cell, or ordered segment (Wilbur 1993; Uyechi 1996; Brentari 1998; Osugi 1998; van der Hulst 2000). Probably the closest to Oneseg is Stokoe’s (1960) conception of a sign as a simultaneous unit. Oneseg however does not claim that everything about a sign is simultaneous, but only that sequence does not imply sequential structure (multiple segments/timing units), and that features can handle the simple and constrained sequences that actually occur in signs. Repetition is one example


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of sequence for which a featural solution exists, as described above. Two other examples are handshape and place sequences, which features or structure could handle (Corina 1993; Crain 1996). A second point is that whether a multisegmental or single segment representation is correct should be considered and decided before, and separately from, questions of hierarchy, tiers, and other details within the segment. Autosegmental characteristics are irrelevant. The models discussed here are neither hierarchical nor nonhierarchical, and representation details are deliberately left vague. Multiseg and Oneseg are not two possible representations among many. At this level of detail, there are only two possible representations: either a representation has one segment/timing unit or it has more than one segment/timing unit. When this question has been answered, then more detail within a representation can be considered, such as timing unit type and hierarchical structure. 3.4.1

Challenges to Oneseg

Oneseg faces several challenges in attempting to handle all sign language data. I list a few here with brief sketches of solutions. For more details, see Channon (2002). In DESTROY (illustrated in Brentari 1998:187) the open, spread, clawshaped, palm-down, strong hand closes to a fist as it moves in toward the chest and passes across the open, spread, clawshaped, palm-up weak hand, which simultaneously changes to a fist. The strong hand then moves back out across the weak hand. (In some versions, the weak hand moves symmetrically with the strong hand.) This sign would seem to be a problem for Oneseg, because the handshape change must occur during the motion inward. It is not spread across the entire time of the sign, or repeated with each change in direction. One consultant told me that it feels awkward to delay the handshape change because it tangles the fingers of the two hands together, suggesting a phonetic basis for the timing of the handshape change. Significantly, no contrasting signs exist in which the handshape change occurs on the second part of the path motion, or spreads across the entire time of the sign, or where the weak handshape change occurs at a different time from the strong hand. It seems unlikely that these are accidental gaps. If phonetic constraints control the timing, then representing this sign as a single segment is not a problem. For Oneseg to succeed, constraints must be assumed for many cases. For example, signs like MAYBE must begin by moving the hand downward and then upward (Perlmutter 1990). Oneseg could not represent these signs without this constraint on motion direction. If Oneseg is correct, then signs with apparent temporal contrasts but no minimal pairs imply that some constraint is at work, so more such constraints should be found. One difficulty in studying not just a new language, but a new language in a new modality, is that researchers are

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rightly hesitant to dismiss aspects of a sign as not phonologically significant. But this hesitation has meant that the lack of contrast that Oneseg predicts in many situations has often been overlooked, with the result that representations with too much power and too many features have been thought necessary. A second challenge concerns contact variations. Signs with contact at the beginning and end of a sign are easily handled with two place features. Many such signs are underlyingly unordered. DEAF has no contrast between beginning at the ear or chin (for more discussion, see Crain 1996). In other cases, the two places can be ordered with a direction feature. AMERICAN-INDIAN contacts the lower cheek then moves up to the upper cheek. It can be represented with two place features and a direction feature [up]. Signs with contact in the middle can be represented with a contact feature such as [graze]. This leaves the question of signs with initial or final contact. As with AMERICAN-INDIAN, most of these signs can be handled with direction features. KNOW (final contact at the forehead) is a near minimal pair with IDEA (initial contact at the forehead). KNOW (26) probably has no direction feature, because “toward (a body part)” is the default. (26)

KNOW [] [forehead]

B handshape

Since the hand moves toward the forehead, contact must be final. IDEA (27) can be represented with a feature [out].16 (27)

IDEA [] [forehead] I handshape [out]

Since the hand moves out from the body, contact must be initial. Thus, while there are variations in when the hand contacts the body, these variations do not require structural sequence. A final challenge is the apparent temporal contrasts of some inflected signs. As already mentioned, the proposal made here does not apply to all signs, but only to simple signs and compounds: the kind of signs found in an ordinary sign language dictionary. Inflected signs (both inflected verbs and classifier 16

Note that in KNOW, the hand may approach the forehead from any phonetically convenient direction, but in IDEA, the hand must move in a specific direction, namely out. Note also that Multiseg must represent most signs with phonologically significant beginning and ending places; Oneseg represents most signs as having one underlying place.


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predicates) are excluded. The verb KNOCK is one example of the problems of inflected forms for a single segment representation. It can be iconically inflected to have a contrastive number of repetitions (knocking a few times vs. knocking for a long time). A second example is the Delayed Completive (Brentari 1998), an inflection with a prolonged initial length that appears to contrast with the shorter initial length of the uninflected sign, and which iconically represents a prolonged initial period of inaction (Taub 1998). These types of contrasts occur only within the inflected verbs and classifier predicate domain, and Oneseg cannot represent them. I argue that they are predictably iconic, and this iconicity affects their representation, so that some elements of inflected signs have no phonological representation.17 Channon (2001) and Channon (2002) explain these exclusions in more detail. If it were the case that inflected signs could not be explained as proposed, then one might invoke a solution similar to Padden’s (1998) proposal that ASL has vocabulary groups within which different rules apply. Regardless of the outcome for inflected verbs, it remains true that Oneseg represents simple signs and compounds better than Multiseg. To turn the tables, (28) offers some examples of physically possible, but non-occurring, simple signs as a challenge to Multiseg. (28)

a. Contact the ear, nose, mouth, chest in that order and no other. b. Open the fist hand to flat spread, then to an extended index. c. Contact the ear, brush the forehead, then draw a continuous line down the nose. d. Contact the ear for a prolonged time, then contact the chin for a normal time. e. Wiggle the hand while moving from ear to forehead, then move without wiggling to mouth (see Sandler 1989:55; Perlmutter 1993).

The existence of such signs would be convincing evidence that signs require Multiseg; the absence of such signs is a serious theoretical challenge for Multiseg, which predicts that signs like these are systematically possible. Because these are systematic gaps, a representation must explain why these signs do not exist. In English, the absence of blick is an accidental gap in the lexicon that has no phonological explanation, but the absence of bnick is systematic, and has a phonological explanation: bn is not an acceptable English consonant cluster. Proponents of Multiseg must likewise explain the systematic gaps illustrated above. Note that Oneseg explains these gaps easily: it cannot represent them. 17

This proposal also excludes fingerspelling. Its dependence on the sequence of English letters means that it has repetition patterns more like speech than the signs examined here. This must somehow be encoded in the representation, but is left for future research.

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3.5

Conclusion

This chapter has shown that there are interesting and even surprising differences in repetition characteristics in the two language modalities. Number of repetitions is contrastive in words, but not signs. Only a few repeating words are rhythmic, but all repeating simple signs are rhythmic. Words and compound signs have similar high rates of irregular repetition, but words allow any irregular repetition pattern, while compound signs allow only three. The models Multiseg for words and Oneseg for signs economically explain these differences. Multiseg must represent different numbers of repetitions contrastively; Oneseg cannot represent number of repetitions contrastively. Multiseg can represent both rhythmic and irregular repetition. Possible segment string permutations suggest that irregular repetition should be common and rhythmic repetition rare. Oneseg can only represent rhythmic repetition in simple signs, but allows irregular repetition in two segment compounds. Multiseg allows any irregular repetition pattern, but Oneseg allows only three. Multiseg correctly represents the repetition data for words, but overgenerates for signs; Oneseg undergenerates for words, and correctly represents the data for signs. A single segment for simple signs, and two segments for compounds, plus a [repeat] feature, is therefore a plausible representation. Acknowledgments I thank Linda Lombardi for her help. She has been an exceptionally conscientious, insightful and intelligent advisor. I thank Richard Meier and the two anonymous reviewers for their helpful comments, Thomas Janulewicz for his work as ASL consultant, Ceil Lucas for discussion of some of the issues raised here, and the audiences at the Student Conference in Linguistics at the University of Arizona at Tucson, the Texas Linguistic Society conference at the University of Texas at Austin, the student conference at the University of Texas at Arlington, and the North American Phonology Conference in Montreal. 3.6

References

Ameka, Felix K. 1999. The typology and semantics of complex nominal duplication in Ewe. Anthropological Linguistics 41:75–106. Anderson, Stephen R. 1993. Linguistic expression and its relation to modality. In Coulter, ed. (1993), 273–290. Battison, Robbin. 1978. Lexical borrowing in American Sign Language. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press. Brentari, Diane. 1998. A prosodic model of sign language phonology. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Channon, Rachel. 2001. The protracted inceptive verb inflection and phonological


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representations in American Sign Language. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Linguistic Society of America, Washington DC, January. Channon, Rachel. 2002. Signs are single segments: Phonological representations and temporal sequencing in ASL and other sign languages. Doctoral dissertation, University of Maryland, College Park, MD. Chao, Chien-Min, His-Hsiung Chu, and Chao-Chung Liu. 1988. Taiwan natural sign language. Taipei, Taiwan: Deaf Sign Language Research Association. Corina, David P. 1993. To branch or not to branch: Underspecification in American Sign Language handshape contours. In Coulter, ed. (1993), 63–95. Costello, Elaine. 1983. Signing: How to speak with your hands. New York: Bantam Books. Coulter, Geoffrey R. 1982. On the nature of American Sign Language as a monosyllabic language. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Linguistic Society of America, San Diego, CA. Coulter, Geoffrey R. 1990. Emphatic stress in American Sign Language. In Fischer and Siple, 109–125. Coulter, Geoffrey R., ed. 1993. Current issues in American Sign Language phonology. San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Crain, Rachel Channon. 1996. Representing a sign as a single segment in American Sign Language. In Proceedings of the 13th Eastern States Conference on Linguistics, 46–57. Cornell University, Ithaca, NY. Fant, Lou. 1983. The American Sign Language phrase book. Chicago, IL: Contemporary Books. Fischer, Susan D. 1973. Two processes of reduplication in the American Sign Language. Foundations of Language 9:469–480. Fischer, Susan D. and Patricia Siple, eds. 1990. Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Holzrichter, Amanda S., and Richard P. Meier. 2000. Child-directed signing in American Sign Language. In Language acquisition by eye, ed. Charlene Chamberlain, Jill P. Morford, and Rachel I. Mayberry, 25–40. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. International Phonetic Association. 1999. Handbook of the International Phonetic Association. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Japanese Federation of the Deaf. 1991. An English dictionary of basic Japanese signs. Tokyo: Japanese Federation of the Deaf. Kendon, Adam. 1980. A description of a deaf-mute sign language from the Enga Province of Papua New Guinea with some comparative discussion. Part III. Semiotica 32:245–313. Kennedy, Graeme D. and Richard Arnold. 1998. A dictionary of New Zealand Sign Language. Auckland: Auckland University Press, Bridget Williams Books. Kenstowicz, Michael. 1994. Phonology in generative grammar. Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell. Kettrick, Catherine. 1984. American Sign Language: A beginning course. Silver Spring, MD: National Association of the Deaf. Klima, Edward S. and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kyle, Jim and Bencie Woll with G. Pullen and F. Maddix. 1985. Sign language: The study of deaf people and their language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Lane, Harlan. 1984. When the mind hears: A history of the deaf. New York: Vintage Books. Liddell, Scott K. and Robert E. Johnson. 1986. American Sign Language compound formation processes, lexicalization, and phonological remnants. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 4:445–513. Liddell, Scott K. and Robert E. Johnson. 1989. American Sign Language: The phonological base. Sign Language Studies 64:195–278. Miller, Christopher Ray. 1996. Phonologie de la langue des signes québécoise: Structure simultanée et axe temporel. Doctoral dissertation, Université de Québec, Montreal. Newkirk, Don. 1998. On the temporal segmentation of movement in American sign Language. Sign Language and Linguistics 1:173–211. Osugi, Yutaka. 1998. In search of the phonological representation in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of Rochester, NY. Padden, Carol. 1998. The ASL Lexicon. Sign Language and Linguistics 1:39–60. Penn, Claire, Dale Ogilvy-Foreman, David Simmons, and Meribeth Anderson-Forbes. 1994. Dictionary of Southern African signs for communicating with the deaf. Pretoria, South Africa: Joint Project of the Human Sciences Research Council and the South African National Council for the Deaf. Perlmutter, David M. 1990. On the segmental representation of transitional and bidirectional movements in American Sign Language phonology. In Fischer and Siple, 67–80. Perlmutter, David M. 1993. Sonority and syllable structure in American Sign Language. In Coulter, ed. (1993), 227–261. Pertama, Edisi. 1994. Kamus sistem isyarat bahasa Indonesia (Dictionary of Indonesian sign language). Jakarta: Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan. Reikhehof, Lottie. 1985. The joy of signing. Springfield, MO: Gospel Publishing House. Sandler, Wendy. 1989. Phonological representation of the sign: Linearity and nonlinearity in American Sign Language. Dordrecht: Foris. Savir, Hava. 1992. Gateway to Israeli Sign Language. Tel Aviv: The Association of the Deaf in Israel. Shroyer, Edgar H. and Susan P. Shroyer. 1984. Signs across America. Washington, DC: Gallaudet College Press. Shuman, Malcolm K. 1980. The sound of silence in Nohya: a preliminary account of sign language use by the deaf in a Maya community in Yucatan, Mexico. Language Sciences 2:144–173. Shuman, Malcolm K. and Mary Margaret Cherry-Shuman. 1981. A brief annotated sign list of Yucatec Maya sign language. Language Sciences 3:124–185. Son, Won-Jae. 1988. Su wha eui kil jap i (Korean Sign Language for the guide). Seoul: Jeon-Yong Choi. Sternberg, Martin L. A. 1981. American Sign Language: A comprehensive dictionary. New York: Harper and Row. Stokoe, William C. 1960. Sign language structure: An outline of the visual communication systems of the American deaf. Studies in Linguistics, Occasional Papers 8. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press. Stokoe, William C., Dorothy C. Casterline, and Carl G. Croneberg. 1965, reprinted 1976. A dictionary of American Sign Language on linguistic principles. Silver Spring, MD: Linstok Press.


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Supalla, Samuel J. 1990. Segmentation of Manually Coded English: problems in the mapping of English in the visual/gestural mode. Doctoral dissertation, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. Supalla, Samuel J. 1992. The book of name signs. San Diego, CA: DawnSign Press. Supalla, Ted and Elissa Newport. 1978. How many seats in a chair? The derivation of nouns and verbs in American Sign Language. In Understanding language through sign language research, ed. Patricia Siple, 91–132. New York: Academic Press. Taub, Sarah Florence. 1998. Language in the body: Iconicity and metaphor in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Uno, Yoshio, chairman. 1984. Sike kuni shuwa ziten, r¯ozin shuwa (Speaking with signs). Osaka, Japan: Osaka YMCA. Uyechi, Linda. 1996. The geometry of visual phonology. Doctoral dissertation, Stanford University, Stanford, CA. van der Hulst, Harry. 2000. Modularity and modality in phonology. In Phonological knowledge: Its nature and status, ed. Noel Burton-Roberts, Philip Carr, and Gerry Docherty, 207–243. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ward, Jill. 1978. Ward’s natural sign language thesaurus of useful signs and synonyms. Northridge, CA: Joyce Media. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 1987. American Sign Language: Linguistic and applied dimensions. Boston, MA: Little, Brown. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 1993. Syllables and segments: Hold the movement and move the holds! In Coulter, ed. (1993), 135–168. Wilbur, Ronnie B. and Susan Bobbitt Nolen. 1986. The duration of syllables in American Sign Language. Language and Speech 29:263–280. Wilbur, Ronnie B. and Lesa Petersen. 1997. Backwards signing and American Sign Language syllable structure. Language and Speech 40:63–90. Wilcox, Phyllis Perrin. 1996. Deontic and epistemic modals in American Sign Language: A discourse analysis. In Conceptual structure, discourse and language, ed. Adele E. Goldberg, 481–492. Stanford, CA: Center for the Study of Language and Information. Wismann, Lynn and Margaret Walsh. 1987. Signs of Morocco. Rabat, Morocco: Peace Corps. Zeshan, Ulrike. 2000. Sign language in Indo-Pakistan: A description of a signed language. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

4

Psycholinguistic investigations of phonological structure in ASL David P. Corina and Ursula C. Hildebrandt

4.1

Introduction

Linguistic categories (e.g. segment, syllable, etc.) have long enabled cogent descriptions of the systematic patterns apparent in spoken languages. Beginning with the seminal work of William Stokoe (1960; 1965), research on the structure of American Sign Language (ASL) has demonstrated that linguistic categories are useful in capturing extant patterns found in a signed language. For example, recognition of a syllable unit permits accounts of morphophonological processes and places constraints on sign forms (Brentari 1990; Perlmutter 1993; Sandler 1993; Corina 1996). Acknowledgment of Movement and Location segments permits descriptions of infixation processes (Liddell and Johnson 1985; Sandler 1986). Feature hierarchies provide accounts of assimilations that are observed in the language and also help to explain those that do not occur (Corina and Sandler 1993). These investigations of linguistic structure have led to a better understanding of both the similarities and differences between signed and spoken language. Psycholinguists have long sought to understand whether the linguistic categories that are useful for describing patterns in languages are evident in the perception and production of a language. To the extent that behavioral reflexes of these theoretical constructs can be quantified, they are deemed as having a ‘psychological reality’.1 Psycholinguistic research has been successful in establishing empirical relationships between a subject’s behavior and linguistic categories using reaction time and electrophysiological measures. This chapter describes efforts to use psycholinguistic paradigms to explore the psychological reality of form-based representations in ASL. Three online reaction time experiments – Lexical-Decision, Phoneme Monitoring, and Sign– Picture Naming – are adaptations of well-known spoken language psycholinguistic paradigms. A fourth off-line experiment, developed in our laboratory, uses a novel display technique to explore form-based similarity judgments of 1

While psychological studies provide external evidence for the usefulness of these theoretical constructs, the lack of a “psychological reality” does not undermine the importance of these constructs in the description of linguistic processes.

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Psycholinguistic investigations of phonological structure

89

signs. This chapter discusses the results of these experiments, which, in large part, fail to establish reliable form-based effects of ASL phonology during lexical access. This surprising finding may reflect how differences in the modality of expression impact lexical representations of signed and spoken languages. In addition, relevant methodological factors2 and concerns are discussed. 4.2

Experiment 1: Phonological form-based priming

Psycholinguistic research has relied heavily on examination of the behavioral phenomenon of priming. Priming refers to the ability to respond faster to a stimulus when that stimulus or some salient characteristic of that stimulus has been previously processed. For example, when a subject is asked to make a lexical decision (i.e. determine whether the stimulus presented is either a word in his or her language or an unrecognized form), the subject’s response time to make the decision is influenced by the prior context. The influence of this prior context (i.e. the prime) may result in a subject responding faster or slower to a target word. These patterns of interference and facilitation have been taken to infer the processes by which word forms may be accessed. The lexical decision paradigm has been used to examine form-based factors underlying lexical access. Most directly relevant to the present experiment are those studies that examine priming of auditory (as opposed to written) words. Several studies have been successful in detecting the influence of shared phonological forms in auditory lexical decision experiments. In contrast to semantic priming studies, form-based studies (and especially auditory form-based studies) are far less robust, and appear to be more sensitive to experimental manipulations. Several early studies have reported facilitation when auditory words share segmental or syllabic overlap (Emmorey 1987; Slowiaczek, Nusbaum, and Pisoni 1987; Corina 1991) while other studies have uncovered significant inhibitory effects (Slowiaczek and Hamburger 1992; Goldinger, Luce, Pisoni, and Marcario 1993; Lupker and Colombo 1994). Re-examination of these results has suggested that facilitation may be more reflective of post-lexical influences, including volitional (i.e. controlled) factors such as a subject’s expectation or response bias. In contrast, inhibition may be more reflective of processes associated with lexical access. 4.2.1

Method

In this sign lexical decision paradigm a subject viewed two successive signs. The first of the pair was always a true ASL sign, the second was either a true 2

Although a full accounting of the specific details behind each experiment is beyond the scope of this chapter, it should be noted that rigorous experimental methodologies were used and necessary controls for order effects were implemented.

Unrelated

Nonsigns

Location

n.s.

Movement

n.s.

Reaction times for the two versions of the experiment: (a) 100ms ISI; (b) 500ms ISI.

Related

650

750

650

Movement

p. < .064

800

850

700

Location

p. < .088

(b)

700

750

800

850

Figure 4.1

Reaction Time (ms)

(a)

Reaction Time (ms)


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sign or a formationally possible, but non-occurring sign form (nonsign). The subject pressed one button if the sign was a true ASL sign and pressed a different button if it was not. The sign pairs varied in phonological similarity; they either had no phonological overlap (i.e. unrelated stimuli) or shared one formational parameter (i.e. related stimuli). We compared reaction times to accept a sign as a “true sign” when it was the second member of a related pair with the reaction times to accept this same sign when it was a member of an unrelated pair. Systematic differences in reaction times between the two conditions (i.e. related vs. unrelated) are taken as evidence for form-based effects during lexical access. The time it took to reject the nonsigns was also recorded.3 The parameter contrasts of interest were limited to movement and location. The length of time between when the prime is presented and when the target is presented (i.e. interstimulus interval or ISI) is known to influence reaction times. Short ISIs may foster more automatic, noncontrolled processing. To examine temporal factors related to form-based priming, two different versions of the experiment were constructed. In the first version, the second sign of the pair is presented at 100 msec following the offset of the preceding sign. The second version of the experiment used an ISI of 500 msec. Fourteen native deaf signers participated in Version 1 and 15 subjects participated in Version 2. 4.2.2

Results

The results shown in Figure 4.1 illustrate the reaction times for the two versions of the experiment (i.e. ISI 100 msec and 500 msec). There was an expected and highly significant difference between sign and nonsign lexical decisions. It took subjects longer to reject nonsigns than to accept true signs. Most surprising, however, are the small, statistically weak effects of related vs. unrelated signs. Specifically, in Version 1 (i.e. 100 msec ISI), lexical decisions were slower in the related context relative to the unrelated context; however, these inhibitory differences only approach statistical significance, which is traditionally set at p < .05 (Movement Related X = 746, Movement Unrelated X = 735, p = .064; Location Related X = 733, Location Unrelated X = 721, p = .088). The 500 msec ISI condition also demonstrates a lack of effects attributable to formbased relations (Movement Related X = 680, Movement Unrelated X = 674, p = .62; Location Related X = 669, Location Unrelated X = 667, p = .76). Taken together, the present study reveals limited influence of shared formational overlap in ASL lexical decisions. Specifically, trends for early and temporally limited inhibition were noted; however, these effects were not statistically significant.4 3 4

Nonsign forms also shared phonological relations with the prime. However, the discussion of these data is beyond the scope of this chapter. The categories of movement types examined in the present experiment included both “path” movements, and examples of “secondary movements.” Limiting the analysis to just path movements did not significantly change the pattern of results.

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4.2.3

Discussion

When deaf subjects made lexical decisions to sign pairs that shared a location or a movement, we observed weak inhibition effects when stimuli were separated by 100 msec, but these effects completely disappeared when the stimulus pairs were separated by 500 msec. These findings stand in contrast to an earlier study reported by Corina and Emmorey (1993), in which significant form-based effects were observed. Specifically, signs that shared movement showed significant facilitatory priming, and signs that shared a common location exhibited significant inhibition. How can we reconcile these differences between studies? Two important issues are noteworthy: methodological factors and the nature of form-based relations. In the Corina and Emmorey (1993) study, only 10 pairs of each parameter category (handshape, movement, and location) were tested. In contrast, the present study included examinations of a much larger pool of contrasts (39 in each condition). In addition, the mean reaction time in the earlier study to related and unrelated sign was 1033 msec, while reaction time in the present experiment averaged 704 msec. The small number of stimuli pairs in the Corina and Emmorey study may have encouraged more strategy-based decisions. Indeed, the relatively long reaction times are consistent with a mediated or controlled processing strategy. In contrast, the present study may represent the effects of automatic priming. That is, these effects may represent effects of lexical, rather than post-lexical, access. Recent spoken language studies have sought to clarify the role of shared phonetic-featural level information vs. segment level information. Experiments utilizing stimuli that were phonetically confusable by virtue of featural overlap (i.e. bone-dung) have reported temporally limited inhibition (Goldinger et al. 1993). In contrast, when stimuli share segmental overlap (i.e. bonebang), facilitation may be more apparent because these stimuli allow subjects to adopt prediction strategies characteristic of controlled rather than automatic processing. In the present ASL experiment, form-based overlap was limited to a single parameter, either movement or location. If we believe these stimuli are more analogous to phonetically confusable spoken stimuli, then we might expect to observe temporally limited inhibitory effects similar to those that have been reported for spoken languages. The existence of (albeit weak) inhibitory effects that are present at the 100 msec ISI are consistent with this hypothesis. Finally, it should be noted that several models of word recognition suggest that as activation of a specific lexical entry grows, so does inhibition of competing entries (Elman and McClelland 1988). These mechanisms of inhibition may result in a situation where forms that are closely related to a target are inhibited relative to an unrelated entry. The work of Goldinger et al. (1993) and Lupker


93

and Colombo (1994) has appealed to these spreading activation and inhibition models to support patterns of inhibition for phonetic-featural overlap. It would not be surprising if similar mechanisms were at work in the case of ASL recognition. Thus, it is possible that the patterns observed for form-based priming in sign language are not so different from those of spoken language processing. Further work is required to establish the reliability of these findings. Future studies will manipulate the degree of shared overlap (for example, using pairs that share both location and movement) in order to examine form-based effects in ASL. 4.3

Experiment 2: Phoneme monitoring

In spoken language, speech sounds come in two different varieties: vowels (Vs) and consonants (Cs). All spoken languages have both kinds of phonemes and all language users usually have some awareness of this distinction (van Ooijen, Cutler, and Norris 1992). The theoretical status of sublexical units in signed languages is of considerable interest. Most theories acknowledge a difference between those elements that remain unchanging throughout the course of a sign and those that do not. This difference underlies the distinction between movemental and positional segments (Perlmutter 1993) or between the inherent and prosodic features described by Brentari (1998). Perlmutter (1993) provides linguistic evidence for two classes of formational units in ASL: “movemental” segments (Ms) and “positional” segments (Ps). Perlmutter argues that these units are formally analogous to the distinction of Vs and Cs found in spoken languages. Just as vowels and consonants comprise basic units in speech syllables, the Ms and Ps of ASL factor significantly in the patterning of sign language syllables. To the extent that this characterization is correct, this finding provides powerful evidence for a fundamental distinction in signal characteristics of human languages, regardless of the modality of expression. Differences in the perception of consonants and vowels have been extensively studied. Perception of consonants appears to be categorical, while the perception of vowels appears more continuous (see Liberman et al. 1967; see also Ades 1977; Repp 1984). The amount of time necessary for the identification of consonants and vowels also differs. Despite the greater perceptibility of vowels (Ades 1977), aurally presented vowels take longer to identify than do consonants. Several studies have shown that reaction times for monitoring for vowels is slower than that of consonants and semi-vowels (Savin and Bever 1970; van Ooijen, Cutler, and Norris 1992; Cutler, van Ooijen, Norris, and Sánchez-Casas 1996). The effects appear to hold across languages as well. Cutler and Otake (1998) reported that English native speakers show less accurate vowel detection than consonant detection for both Japanese and English lexical targets, and that Japanese speakers showed a similar effect for English materials. The curious

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trade-off between perceptibility and identification raises questions with respect to the cognitive processing of consonants and vowels. The experiments reported here make use of a handshape detection task to determine whether differences exist in detection times for sublexical components of signed languages. As discussed below, handshape change can constitute the nucleus of a sign syllable. As noted above syllable nuclei in spoken language (i.e. vowels) are identified more slowly than consonants; therefore handshapes in signs with handshape change should be identified more slowly in phoneme monitoring. Specifically, we examine whether the time to detect a handshape within a sign with a handshape change is slower to detect than a handshape in a sign that does not change posture. These studies are similar to phoneme monitoring studies conducted with spoken languages, in which subjects monitor for consonant or vocalic segments in lexical environments. Handshapes in ASL hold a dual status. At times the handshape in a sign like THINK assumes a posture that remains static throughout the sign. In other signs, e.g. UNDERSTAND, the entire movement of the sign may be composed of a change in the handshape configuration. Based upon the analyses in Corina (1993), a movement dynamic that is limited to a handshape change may constitute the most salient element of a sign form, and thus serve as the nucleus of the syllable. This observation raises the following question: Do these differences in the status of handshape have processing consequences? Based upon these analyses and prior work on spoken language, one might expect that the time to detect a handshape in a sign with a handshape change would be longer than the time to detect the same handshape in a static form. This is because in instances when the handshape changes, handshape is functioning more like a vowel. In those signs with no change in handshape, handshape serves a more consonantal function. This hypothesis is tested in the following experiment.5 4.3.1

Method

A list of signs was presented on videotape at a rate of one sign every two seconds. The subjects were instructed to press a response key when they had detected the target handshape. An individual subject monitored four handshapes 5

Some reviewers have questioned the reasonableness of this hypothesis. The hypothesis is motivated, in part, by the observation that human visual systems show specialization for perception of movement and specialization related to object processing. Hence, we ask, could movement properties of signs be processed differently from static (i.e. object) properties? I have presented evidence that the inventory of contrastive handshape changes observed within signs is a subset of the handshape changes that occur between signs. A possible explanation for this observation is that human linguistic systems are less readily able to rectify fine differences of handshape in a sign with a dynamic handshape change. However, given sufficient time (as occurs between signs) the acuity tolerances are more relaxed, permitting a wider range of contrastive forms (Corina 1992; 1993). These observations motivated the investigation of these two classes of handshape in ASL.


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Table 4.1 Instruction to subjects: “Press the button when you see a ‘1’ handshape” Sign

Handshape

Subject’s response

ABLE AGREE PUZZLE

S 1 1→X

no response yes! yes!

FIND ASK

5→F S→1

no response yes!

VACATION

5

no response

Comment

static handshape handshape change, first handshape is the target handshape change, second handshape is the target

drawn from a total of six different handshapes. This set included three marked handshapes (X, F, V) and three unmarked handshapes (1, S, 5) (after Battison 1978). Each subject monitored for two marked and two unmarked handshapes. Prior to testing all subjects were informed that the target might occur as a part of a handshape change or not, and were explicitly shown examples of these contrasts. Table 4.1 shows a representative example of the stimulus conditions and the intended subject response. Two conditions were included in the experiment, “real-time” and “video-animated” signing. In the latter, the stimuli are constructed by capturing the first “hold” segment of a sign and freezing this image for 16 frames and then capturing the final hold segment of a sign and freezing this image for 16 frames. When viewed in sequence one observed an animated sign form in which the actual path of movement is inferred. This manipulation provides a control condition to examine temporal properties of sign recognition. The order of the target handshapes and the order of conditions were counterbalanced across subjects. Due to the temporal qualities of handshape changes, the crucial comparison is between the first handshape of a contouring form compared to a static handshape that is stable throughout the sign. 4.3.2

Results

The graphs in Figure 4.2 illustrate detection times for identifying handshapes in ASL signs from 32 signers (22 native signers and 10 late learners of ASL). The left half of the graph shows results for moving signs and the right half plots results from the “video-animated” control conditions. HS-1 and HS-2 refer to the first and second shape of “contour” handshape signs (for example, in the sign ASK, HS-1 is an “S” handshape and HS-2 is a “G” handshape). The third category is composed of signs without handshape changes (i.e. no handshape change or NHSC).

HS-2

Late Learners (n = 10)

Native Signers (n = 22)

HS-1

n.s.

HS-2

* p < .013

NHSC

n.s.

Reaction times for detection of handshapes in ASL signs for (a) moving signs and (b) static signs

NHSC

400

HS-1

400

n.s.

600

700

800

900

500

n.s.

n.s.

(b)

500

600

700

800

900

Figure 4.2

Reaction Time (ms)

(a)

Reaction Time (ms)


97

Several patterns emerge from these data. Importantly, the detection of the first element of a handshape (HS-1) that is changing during the course of a sign is not significantly different from the detection of that same handshape when it is a member of a sign that involves NHSC ( p> .05). These preliminary data from this detection paradigm suggest no behavioral processing differences associated with handshapes as a function of their syllabic composition (i.e. whether they are constituents of an M or a P segment). Moreover, statistical analysis reveals no significant group differences ( p > .05). A second finding emerges from consideration of the video-animated condition. Here, the overall reaction time to detect handshapes is much longer for these signs than for the real time signs. In addition, late learners appear to have more difficulty detecting the second handshape of these signs. This may indicate that the late learners have a harder time suppressing the initial handshape (thus resulting in slower second handshape detection) or, alternatively, that these subjects are perturbed when a sign lacks movement. 4.3.3

Discussion

In Experiment 2, a phoneme monitoring experiment was used to examine the recognition of handshapes under two conditions: in one condition a handshape appeared in a sign in which the handshape configuration remained static throughout the course of a sign’s articulation, while in the other the handshape was contoured. The results revealed that a target handshape could be equally well detected in a sign without a handshape change as in a sign with a handshape change. Under some analyses, for a sign in which the only dynamic component is the handshape change, the handshape change constitutes the most sonorant element of the sign form (see Corina 1993). Viewed from this perspective it would then appear that the syllabic environment of the handshape does not noticeably alter its perceptibility. In spoken languages, phoneme monitoring times are affected by the major class status of the target phoneme, with consonants being detected faster than semi-vowels, which are detected faster than vowels (Savin and Bever 1970; van Ooijen et al. 1992; Cutler et al. 1996). However, a central concern in the phoneme monitoring literature is whether behavioral patterns observed in the studies of consonants and vowels are attributable to the composition of the signal (i.e. vowels are steady state, consonants are time-varying) or rather reflect their function in the language (i.e. vowels constitute the nucleus of a syllable, consonants are the margins of syllables). These facts have been inexorably confounded in the spoken language domain. Attempts have been made (albeit unsuccessfully) to control for this confound in spoken language (see van Ooijen et al. 1992). If we accept the premise that handshape properties hold a dual status, that is, that handshapes may be a constituent of a movemental or positional segment

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(or alternatively a constituent of the syllable nucleus or not), then ASL provides an important control condition. Following this line of argumentation, the present data suggest that it is not the syllabic status of a segment that determines the differences in reaction time, but rather the physical differences in the signal. Thus, the physical differences between a handshape that is a member of a handshape change compared to its nonchanging variant does not have significant consequences for detection times as measured in the present experiment. A methodological point concerns whether the phoneme monitoring task in the context of naturalistic signing speeds has led to ceiling effects, such that true processing differences have not been revealed. Further studies with speeded or perceptually degraded stimuli could be used to address this concern. Finally several theoretical points must be raised. It must be acknowledged that the homologies between segments, phonemes, and features in spoken and signed languages are quite loose. Thus, some may argue that these data have little bearing on the signal vs. constituent controversy in spoken language. In addition, as noted, the assumed status distinction between a static handshape and a handshape change within a sign may be, in some fundamental way, incorrect. A related concern is that the featural elements of the handshapes themselves are not diagnostic of sonority, but of some more abstract property of the sign (for example, the integration of articulatory information across time). Thus, monitoring for specific handshape posture may not be a valid test of the role of syllable information in ASL. 4.4

Experiment 3: Sign picture naming

The third experiment explores the time course of sign language production by making use of a picture naming paradigm. This experiment is modeled after Schriefers, Meyer, and Levelt’s (1990) cross modal word-picture paradigm. In this paradigm, subjects are asked to name simple black and white line drawings presented by computer under two different conditions: in one condition, only the line drawing is seen (for example, a picture of a lion), while in the interfering stimulus (IS)6 condition, the picture is accompanied by an auditorily presented stimulus. The IS is either a semantically related word (picture: lion; word: jungle) a phonologically related word (picture: lion; word: lighter) or an unrelated word (picture: lion; word: stroller). Of course, trying to name a picture when you are hearing a competing word is disruptive. The main question of interest, however, is whether the nature of the IS results in differential effects on naming speed. Thus, in this paradigm, the most interesting results come from the comparisons between the semantic and phonological IS relative to the 6

The term “Interfering Stimulus” (IS) is the accepted nomenclature in this research area. Note, however, the effects of interference may be either inhibitory or facilitatory.


99

75

50

Semantic

25

Phonological onset 0

Phonological rhyme

−25

300

200

100

0

−100

−200

−50 −300

Reaction Time (unrelated: interfering stimulus)

unrelated IS. In addition, in these paradigms one may systematically vary the temporal relationships, or stimulus onset asynchronies (SOAs), between when the picture appears and when the IS is delivered. The differential effects of the IS are further illuminated by varying these temporal properties. Several findings have shown that in the early-onset conditions (–150 msec SOA), picture naming latencies are greater in the presence of semantic IS compared to unrelated IS, whereas phonological IS have little effect (the phonological stimuli shared word onsets). It is suggested that the selective interference reflects an early stage of semantic activation. In the post-onset IS condition (+150 msec SOA), no semantic interference is evident, but a significant facilitatory effect for phonological stimuli is observed. These results support the model of word production in which a semantic stage is followed by a phonological or word-form stage of activation. Figure 4.3 shows results obtained from our laboratory on replication and extension of Schriefers et al.’s (1990) paradigm. This study included over 100 subjects at 5 different SOAs (–200, –100, 0, +100, +200). Figure 4.3 illustrates the difference in magnitude of reaction times for the unrelated condition compared to the interfering stimulus conditions (thus, a negative value reflects a slowing of reaction time) for aurally presented words under a variety of conditions. As shown in the figure, at early points in time semantically related ISs produce significant interference. This semantic interference is greatly diminished by the 0 msec SOA. At roughly –100 msec SOA we observe robust phonological facilitation, which was absent at the –200 msec SOA. This

Stimulus onset asynchrony

Figure 4.3

Word–picture interference and facilitation

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facilitation begins to diminish at +200 msec SOA. Also plotted are the results of phonologically rhyming stimuli. Here we observe an early facilitatory effect that rapidly diminishes. These studies show that there is an early point in time during which semantic information is being encoded, followed by a time in which phonological information is being encoded (in particular, word onset information). This experimental paradigm permits us to tap selectively into these different phases of speech production. The inclusion of the rhyme condition (a condition not reported by Schriefers et al. 1990) provides a useful data point for the assessment of phonological effects in ASL where the concept of shared onset vs. rhyme is not transparent. 4.4.1

Method

In the sign language adaptation of this experiment, a subject is shown a picture and is asked to sign the name of the picture as fast as possible. A reaction time device developed in our laboratory stops a clock when the subject raises his or her hands off the table to sign the target item. The interference task is achieved by superimposing the image of a signer on the target picture. This is achieved through the use of transparent dissolve, a common technique in many digital video-effects kits. Impressionistically, the effect results in a “semi-transparent” signer ghosted over the top of the object to be named. In the present experiment we examined the roles of three interference conditions: semantically related signs (e.g. picture: cat; sign: COW); phonologically related signs (e.g. picture: cat; sign: INDIAN); or an unrelated sign (e.g. picture: cat; sign: BALL). In the majority of cases the phonological overlap consisted of at least two shared parameters; however, in this initial study these parameter combinations were not systematically varied. We examined data from 14 native deaf signers and 25 hearing subjects responding to a third visual experiment conducted in English. In the English experiment the target was a picture, while the interfering stimulus was a written word superimposed on the target picture. This was done to isolate a withinmodality interference effect rather than the crossmodal effects from the auditory experiments. Note that the current ASL experiment was conducted only for a simultaneous (0 msec SOA) interference condition. 4.4.2

Results

Shown in Figure 4.4 is a comparison of a sign-picture condition with a writtenword condition. At this SOA we observe robust facilitation for written words that share phonemic overlap with the target. In addition, we observe semantic interference (whose effects are likely abating at this SOA; see above). ASL signers show a different pattern; little or no phonological facilitation was observed.

Reaction Times (Unrelated: Interfering Stimuli)


101

40

**

30

* p < .05 ** p. < .01

ASL phonology

20

English phonology 10

n.s.

0

ASL semantics

−10

*

English semantics **

−20

0 msec SOA

Figure 4.4 effects

Comparisons of sign–picture and word–picture interference

This stands in contrast to the robust and consistent findings reported in spoken and written language literature. However, as with written English, we do observe effects of semantic interference at this SOA. These results are intriguing and suggest a difference between a semantic and phonological stage of processing in sign recognition. However, at this SOA, while both phonological and semantic effects are observed in the English experiment, we find only significant evidence for semantic effects for ASL. 4.4.3

Discussion

The third experiment used a measure of sign production to examine the effects of semantic and phonological interference during picture naming in sign language. These results showed significant effects for semantic interference but no effects for phonological interference. These results stand in contrast to similar experiments conducted with both written and spoken English, which have shown opposing effects for semantic and phonological interference. One of the strengths of the word picture paradigms is the incorporation of a temporal dimension in the experimental design. By varying the temporal relationship between the onset of the picture and the onset of the interfering stimuli, Levelt, Schriefers, Vorberg, Meyer, and colleagues (1991) have been able to chart out differential effects of semantic and phonological interference. The choice of the duration of these SOAs has been derived in part from estimates of spoken word recognition. The temporal difference in the duration of words and signs – coupled with the differences in recognition times for

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words vs. signs (see Emmorey and Corina 1990) – make it difficult to fully predict what the optimal time windows will be for ASL. The present sign experiment used a 0 msec ISI. For English (and Dutch) this corresponds to a time when phonological effects are beginning to show a maximal impact and semantic effects are beginning to wane. In the ASL experiment, we observed semantic effects but no phonological effects. The data may reflect that the temporal window in which to observe these effects in signed language is shifted in time. Ongoing experiments in our laboratory are currently exploring this possibility. 4.5

Experiment 4: Phonological similarity

A fourth study was motivated by spoken language studies that have investigated the concept of “phonological awareness”. Phonological awareness reflects an understanding that words are not unsegmented wholes, but are made up of component parts. Psychological research has explored various aspects of phonological awareness: its developmental time course, the impact of delayed or deficient phonological awareness on other linguistic skills such as reading (Lundberg, Olofsson, and Wall 1980; Bradley and Bryant 1983), and more recently its neural underpinnings (Petersen, Fox, Posner, Mintun, and Raichle 1989; Rayman and Zaidel 1991; Sergent, Zuck Levesque, and MacDonald 1992; Paulescu, Frith, and Frackowiak 1993; Poeppel 1996; Zattore et al. 1996). In spoken languages, words are comprised of segmental phonemic units (i.e. consonants and vowels) and languages vary in the inventory and composition of the phonemic units they employ. In signed languages, handshape, location, movement, and orientation form the essential building blocks of signs. Formal descriptions of spoken and signed languages permit theoretically driven statements of structural similarity. For example, one might categorize words that have a “long e” sound or the phoneme sequence /a/ /t/; or the class of signs that contain a “five” handshape, or touch the chin, or have a repeated circular movement. Some structural groupings in spoken languages have a special status. For example, words that rhyme (e.g. moose-juice) are generally appreciated as more similar-sounding than words that share onsets (e.g. moose-moon). Clues to these privileged groupings can often be observed in stylized usage of language such as poetry, language games, and song. Signed languages are no exception. Klima and Bellugi (1979) investigated examples of sign poetry (or “art sign”) as a specialized use of ASL. They observed that a similar handshape may be used throughout a poem, a device analogous to the spoken language phenomenon of alliteration (where each word shares a similar initial consonant sound). In sign poetry there is a great deal of attention to the flow and rhythm of the signs,


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much like artistic manipulation of the melodic line in spoken poetry (Rose 1992; Blondel and Miller 1998). Often, the locations and movements of signs are manipulated to create cohesiveness and continuity between signs. Signs also may overlap, or be shortened or lengthened, in order to create a rhythmic pattern. These devices are combined to create strong visual imagery unique to visual– gestural languages (Cohn 1986). Examples of language games in ASL include “ABC stories” and “proper name stories.” In these games a story is told with the constraint that each successive sign in the story must use a handshape drawn from the manual alphabet in a sequence that follows the alphabet or spells a proper name. Cheerleader fight songs also evidence repetition of rhythmic movement patterns and handshape alliteration. Taken together, these examples demonstrate that sign forms exhibit component structures that are accessible to independent manipulation (e.g. handshapes) and provide hints of structural relatedness (e.g. similar movement paths). However, it should be noted that there is no generally accepted notion of a naturally occurring structural grouping of sign properties that constitute an identifiable unit in the same sense that a “rhyme” does for users of spoken languages. While several researchers have used the term “rhyme” to describe phonemic redundancy in signs (Poizner, Klima, and Bellugi 1987; Valli 1990) it remains to be determined whether a specific combination of structural properties serves this function. The current exploratory studies gather judgments of sign similarity as rated by native users of ASL in order to provide insight into the relationship between theoretical models of sign structure and psychological judgments of similarity. Two experiments sought to uncover psychological judgments of perceptual similarity of nonmeaningful but phonologically possible signs. We were interested in what combination of parameters observers would categorize as being most similar. These experiments tapped into native signer intuitions as to which parameter, or combination of shared parameters, makes two signs seem particularly similar. These paradigms provided an opportunity to tap into phonological awareness by investigating phonological similarity in ASL. The similarity judgments of hearing subjects unfamiliar with ASL provided an important control. A few studies have examined whether similarity ratings of specific components of signs – especially, handshape (Stungis 1981), location (Poizner and Lane 1978), and movement (Poizner 1983) – differ between signers and nonsigners. The rating of handshape and location revealed very high correlations between signers and hearing nonsigners (r = .88, r = .82, respectively). These data suggest that linguistic experience has little effect on these perceptual similarity ratings. In contrast, Poizner’s (1983) study examined ratings of signs filmed as point light displays and found some deaf and hearing differences for qualities of movement. Post hoc analysis suggested that deaf signers’ patterns of dimensional salience mirrored those dimensions that are linguistically relevant

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in ASL. However, no studies to date have examined whether theoretically motivated statements of structural similarity of ASL also describe natural perceptual groupings. These experiments used an offline technique to uncover psychological judgments of perceptual similarity in naturally presented nonsign stimuli. A paradigm developed in our laboratory capitalizes upon the relatively greater parallel processing afforded by the visual system. In these experiments subjects were asked to make simultaneous comparisons of multiple sign forms that varied in a systematic fashion. 4.5.1

Method

The stimuli for these experiments were created by videotaping a deaf male signer signing a series of ASL nonsigns. Nonsigns are pronounceable, phonologically possible signs that are devoid of any meaning. In the first of two experiments, each trial had a target nonsign in a circular field in the middle of the screen. Surrounding the central target were alternative nonsign forms, one in each corner of the screen. Three of these nonsigns shared two parameters with the target nonsign and differed on one parameter. One shared movement and location (M + L) and differed in handshape, one shared movement and handshape (M + H) and differed in location, and one shared location and handshape (L + H) and differed in movement. The remaining flanking nonsign was phonologically unrelated to the target. All signs (surrounding signs and target sign) were of equal length and temporally synchronized. In the second experiment, the target sign shared only one parameter with three surrounding signs. For both experiments, these synchronized displays were repeated concurrently five times (for a total of about 15 seconds) with 5 seconds of a black screen between test screens. The repetitions permitted ample time for all participants to carefully inspect all flanking nonsigns and to decide which was similar to the target. The instructions for these experiments were purposely left rather open ended. The subjects were simply asked to look at the target sign and then decide which of the flanking signs was “most similar.” We stressed the importance of using “intuition” in making the decisions, but purposely did not specify a basis for the similarity judgment. Rather, we were interested in examining the patterns of natural grouping that might arise during these tasks. Three subject groups were run on these experiments (native deaf signers, deaf late learners of ASL, and hearing sign-naive subjects). A full report of these data may be found in Hildebrandt and Corina (2002). The present discussion is limited to a comparison of native deaf signers and hearing subjects. Twentyone native signers and 42 hearing nonsigners participated in the two shared parameter study, and 29 native signers and 51 hearing nonsigners participated in the single shared parameter experiment.

Psycholinguistic investigations of phonological structure 60

105

Loc + mov Hand + mov

50

Percentage

Loc + hand 40

Random

30 20 10 0

Native

Hearing Groups

Figure 4.5

4.5.2

Results from Experiment 1: Two-shared parameter condition

Results

Results from the first experiment (i.e. two-shared parameter condition) are shown in Figure 4.5. Both deaf and hearing subjects chose signs that shared movement and location as the most similar in relation to the other combinations of parameters (M = 45.79%, SD = 15.33%). Examination of the remaining contrasts, however, reveals a systematic difference; while the hearing group chose M + H more often than L + H (t (123) = 3.685, two-tailed p < .001), the native group chose those two combinations of shared parameters equally often (t (60) = .455, two-tailed p = .651). In the second experiment (i.e. single parameter condition) the native signers and hearing groups again made nearly identical patterns of similarity judgments. Both hearing and deaf subjects rated signs that share a movement, or signs that share a location with the target sign as highly similar (all ps < .01). Although Figure 4.6 suggests that movement was more highly valued by the native signers, this difference did not reach statistical significance ( p < .675). 4.5.3

Discussion

Several important findings emerge from these data. First, and most striking, is the overall similarity of native deaf signers and hearing subjects on these judgments. First, both deaf and sign-naive subjects chose signs that share movement and location as the most similar, indicating that this combination of parameters enables a robust perceptual grouping. The salience of movement and location is also highlighted in the second experiment, where these combinations of parameters once again served as the basis of preferred similarity judgment. It is only when we consider the parameters of M + H vs. L + H that we find group differences, which we assume here to be an influence of linguistic knowledge of ASL.

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David P. Corina and Ursula C. Hildebrandt 45

Movement Location Handshape

40 35

Percentage

30 25 20 15 10 5 0

Native

Hearing Groups

Figure 4.6

Results from Experiment 2: Single parameter condition

Several theories of syllable structure in ASL have proposed that the combination of movement and location serves as the skeletal structure from which syllables are built, and that movement is the most sonorant element of the sign syllable (see, for example, Sandler 1993). In these models, handshape is represented on a separate linguistic structural tier in order to account for such phenomena as the spreading of handshape across location and movement (Sandler 1986). Languages commonly capitalize on robust perceptual distinctions as a basis for linguistic distinctions. The cross-group similarities observed in the present study reinforce this notion. However, language knowledge does appear to play a role in these judgments; the lack of a clear preference between M + H vs. L + H indicates that each of these combinations is an equally poor grouping. This may be related to the fact that groupings of M + H or L + H are not coherent syllabic groupings. Consider a spoken language analogue, in which subjects make judgments of similarity: Target: dat

Flankers: zat, dut, dal

Assume the pair judged most similar is dat–zat. In contrast we find equal nonpreferences for the pairs dat–dut (shared initial onset and final consonant), and dat–dal (shared initial consonant and vowel). Thus, we conjecture that in the pair dat–zat the hierarchical structure of the syllable coda provides a basis of a similarity judgment, while the nonpreferred groupings fail to benefit from coherent syllabic constituency. The hearing subjects’ preference for M + H over L + H combinations is likely to reflect the perceptual salience of the movement for these sign-naive subjects, for whom the syllabic violations are not an issue.


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In the single parameter study it is somewhat unexpected that movement did not further differentiate deaf and hearing subjects. Combinations of parameters may hold more perceptual weight and may also have greater linguistic significance. Indeed, the combination of two parameters may be more salient than the sum of its parts. Spoken language studies also lend support for the psychological salience of the syllable unit over individual phonemes (Mehler, Dommergues, Frauenfelder, and Segui 1981). 4.6

General discussion

We have presented results from four psycholinguistic experiments investigating the role of form-based information in ASL. These efforts represent some of the first attempts to study the online recognition and production of ASL. With this in mind, it is very important not to overinterpret these initial findings. More work is required to draw strong conclusions. In the spirit of these early investigations we discuss methodological and theoretical issues that may underlie this pattern of results. In the three experiments where reaction time measures were used (Lexical decision, Phoneme monitoring, and Sign–picture interference), we found little evidence for the effects of form-based information during the online processing of ASL signs. A fourth experiment used an offline technique to explore the categorization of phonological similarity between signs. In this experiment, modest differences were observed which differentiated native signers from sign-naive persons. What can be made of these findings? We now turn to a speculative discussion that examines a possible reason for a reduced role of form-based information in the processing of a signed language during online tasks. The discussion hinges on what is perhaps one of the most interesting modality differences between signed and spoken language: the differences in articulatory structures. Without a doubt, one of the most significant differences between signed and spoken languages is the difference in relationship of the articulators to the objects of language perception. In spoken languages, the primary articulators (the tongue, palate, etc.) are largely hidden from view. The perception of the speech signal relies on an appreciation of the changes in sound pressure that arises as a result of changes in configuration of these hidden articulators. In contrast, for signed languages, the primary articulators are visually obvious. This difference may have profound implications for the mappings that are required between a language signal and cognitive representations that comprise the form-based attributes of lexical representations. In particular, we conjecture that signed languages afford a more transparent mapping from the medium of expression to form-based representations. One way to conceptualize this mapping is to consider that language understanding (both signed and spoken) requires a mapping to an idealized and

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internalized articulatory–gestural representation, an idea made popular by the Motor Theory of Speech Perception (Mattingly and Studdert-Kennedy 1991; Liberman 1996). If cognitive representations come to reflect the statistical and language-systematic regularities that are exercised in the service of mapping linguistic signals to meaning, spoken language processing may necessitate a more elaborate form-based representation. Differences in form-based representations may have processing consequences. Specifically, the reduced effects of formbased manipulations evident in the present series of online experiments may reflect this reduced (but not absent) role of intermediary representations in ASL. Finally, we return to the question of psychological reality of phonological structure in ASL. At the outset we stated that to the extent that the behavioral manifestation of theoretical linguistic constructs can be empirically validated, they are deemed as having a “psychological reality”. We have shown, as measured by these experiments, that the behavioral effects of some phonological form-based properties are difficult to establish. But, in other psychological and neurological domains these reflexes are clearly apparent. We have seen, for example, that in measures that encourage controlled processing, native signers evidence sensitivities to form-based overlap (Corina and Emmorey 1993) and syllable structure (Hildebrandt and Corina, in press). Naturally occurring slips of the hand show systematic substitutions of parameters (Klima and Bellugi 1979). In neuropsychology the dissolution of signing in the face of aphasia (Poizner, Klima, and Bellugi 1987; Hickock, Bellugi, and Klima 1998; Corina 1998), Wada testing (sodium amytal test), and direct cortical stimulation (Corina, McBurney, Dodrill, Hinshaw, Brinkley, and Ojemann 1999; Corina 2000) show that form-based errors honor independently motivated linguistic models. Future studies will no doubt ferret out additional conditions under which form-based properties either do or do not contribute to sign language processing. The discovery of these conditions will provide powerful insights into the necessary and sufficient conditions of human linguistic representation. Acknowledgments This work was supported by a NIDCD Grant (R29-DC03099) awarded to David Corina. We thank the deaf volunteers who participated in this study. We acknowledge the help of Nat Wilson, Deba Ackerman, and Julia High. We thank the reviewers for helpful comments. 4.7

References

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5

Modality-dependent aspects of sign language production: Evidence from slips of the hands and their repairs in German Sign Language Annette Hohenberger, Daniela Happ, and Helen Leuninger

5.1

Introduction

In the present study, we investigate both slips of the hand and slips of the tongue in order to assess modality-dependent and modality-independent effects in language production. As a broader framework, we adopt the paradigm of generative grammar, as it has been developed over the past 40 years (Chomsky 1965; 1995, and related work of other generativists). Generative grammar focuses on both universal and language-particular aspects of language. The universal characteristics of language are known as Universal Grammar (UG). UG defines the format of possible human languages and delimits the range of possible variation between languages. We assume that languages are represented and processed by one and the same language module (Fodor 1983), no matter what modality they use. UG is neutral with regard to the modality in which a particular language is processed (Crain and Lillo-Martin 1999). By adopting a psycholinguistic perspective, we ask how a speaker’s or signer’s knowledge of language is put to use during the production of language. So far, models of language production have been developed mainly on the basis of spoken languages (Fromkin 1973; 1980; Garrett 1975; 1980; Butterworth 1980; Dell and Reich 1981; Stemberger 1985; Dell 1986; MacKay 1987; Levelt 1989; Levelt, Roelofs, and Meyer 1999). However, even the set of spoken languages investigated so far is restricted (with a clear focus on English). Thus, Levelt et al. (1999:36) challenge researchers to consider a greater variety of (spoken) languages in order to broaden the empirical basis for valid theoretical inductions. Yet, Levelt and his colleagues do not go far enough. A greater challenge is to include sign language data more frequently in all language production research. Such data can provide the crucial evidence for the assumed universality of the language processor and can inform researchers what aspects of language production are modality dependent and what aspects are not. 112

Modality-dependent aspects of sign language production

5.2

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Goals and hypotheses

We follow Levelt (1983; 1989; 1999; Levelt et al. 1999) in adopting a model of language production with one component that generates sentences (the processor) and another that supervises this process (the monitor). Therefore, we have formulated two hypothesis pairs with regard to the processor and the monitor (see also Leuninger, Happ, and Hohenberger 2000a): r Hypothesis 1a: The language processor is modality neutral (amodal). r Hypothesis 1b: The content of the language processor (phonology, morphology, syntax) is modality dependent. r Hypothesis 2a: The monitor is modality neutral. r Hypothesis 2b: The content of the monitor is modality dependent. This twofold hypothesis pair is well in line with what other sign language researchers advocate with regard to modality and modularity (Crain and LilloMartin 1999:314; Lillo-Martin 1999; Lillo-Martin this volume): while the input and output modules of spoken and signed languages are markedly different, the representations and processing of language are the same because they are computed by the same amodal language module. The goal of our study is to investigate these hypotheses as formulated above. We are interested in finding out, in the first place, how a purported amodal language processor and monitor work in the two different modalities. Therefore, we investigate signers of German Sign Language (Deutsche Gebärdensprache or DGS) and speakers of German, and present them with the same task. The tension between equality and difference is, we feel, a very productive one and is at the heart of any comparative investigation in this field. Hypotheses 1b and 2b deserve some elaboration. By stating that the content of the language processor and the monitor are modality dependent we mean that phonological, morphological, and syntactic representations are different for signed and spoken languages. Some representations may be the same (syntactic constructions such as wh-questions, topicalizations, etc.); some may be different (signed languages utilize spatial syntax and have a different pronominal system); some may be absent in one of the languages but present in the other (signed languages utilize two-handed signs, classifiers, facial gestures, other gestures, etc., but spoken languages do not utilize these language devices). If modality differences are to be found they will be located here, not in the overall design of the processor. The processor will deal with and will be constrained by those different representations. As the function of the processor is the same no matter what language is computed – conveying language in real-time – the processor dealing with signed language and the one dealing with spoken language will have to adapt to these different representations, exploit possible processing advantages, and compensate for possible disadvantages (Gee and Goodhart 1988). One prominent dimension in this respect is simultaneity/linearity of

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A. Hohenberger, D. Happ, and H. Leuninger

grammatical encoding. In the sense of UG, the format of linguistic representations, however, is the same for both modalities. Both modalities may draw on different offers made available by UG, but, crucially, this format will always be UG-constrained. Natural languages – if signed or spoken – will never fall out of this UG space. The extent to which a particular language will draw upon simultaneity or linearity as an option will, of course, depend on specific (Phonetic Form or PF) interface conditions of that language.1 Different interface-conditions select different options of grammatical representations, all of which are made available by UG. Therefore, UG-constrained variation is a fruitful approach to the modality issue. In this respect, we distinguish three sources of variation: r “Intra-modal variation” between languages: This variation pertains to crosslinguistic differences between spoken languages (e.g. English vs. German) or crosslinguistic differences between signed languages (e.g. ASL vs. DGS). r “Inter-modal variation” (e.g. German vs. DGS): This variation is highly welcome as it can test the validity of the concept of UG and the modularity hypothesis. r “Typological variation”: It is important not to mix modality and typological effects. The mapping of languages onto the various typological categories (fusional, isolating, agglutinating languages, or, more generally, concatenative vs. nonconcatenative languages) can cut across modalities. For example, spoken languages as well as signed languages may belong to the same typological class of fusional/nonconcatenative languages (Leuninger, Happ, and Hohenberger 2000a).2 Sign languages, however, seem to uniformly prefer nonconcatenative morphology and are established at a more 1

2

In Chomsky’s minimalist framework (1995), syntax has two interfaces: one phonetic-articulatory (Phonetic Form, PF) and one logical-semantic (Logical Form, LF). Syntactic representations have to meet wellformedness constraints on these two interfaces, otherwise the derivation fails. LF is assumed to be modality neutral; PF, however, imposes different constraints on signed and spoken languages. Therefore, modality differences should be expected with respect to the PF interface. In this sense, spoken German shares some aspects of nonconcatenativity with German Sign Language. Of course, DGS displays a higher degree of nonconcatenativity due to the many features that can be encoded simultaneously (spatial syntax, facial gestures, classifiers, etc.). In spoken German, however, grammatical information can also be encoded simultaneously. Ablaut (vowel gradation) is a case in point: the alternation of the stem such as /gXb/ yields various forms: geben (‘to give,’ infinitive), gib (‘give’, second person singular imperative), gab (‘gave,’ first and third person singular past tense), die Gabe (‘the gift,’ noun), g a¨ be (‘give,’ subjunctive mode). Here, morphological information is realized by vowel alternation within the stem – a process of infixation – and not by suffixation, the default mechanism of concatenation. A forteriori, Semitic languages with their autosegmental morphology (McCarthy 1981) and tonal languages (Odden 1995) also pattern with DGS. In syntax, sign languages also pattern with various spoken languages with respect to particular parametric choices. Thus, Lillo-Martin (1986; 1991; see also Crain and Lillo-Martin 1999) shows that ASL shares the Null Subject option with Italian (and other Romance languages) and the availability of empty discourse topics with languages such as Chinese.


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extreme pole on the continuum of isolating vs. fusional morphology (see Section 5.5.3.1). 5.3

A serial model of language production

As we investigate DGS production from a model-theoretic viewpoint, we tie our empirical research to theories of spoken language production that have been proposed in the literature. We adopt Levelt’s model (1989; 1992; 1999; Levelt et al. 1999) which is grounded in the seminal work of Garrett (1975; 1980) and Fromkin (1973; 1980).3 Levelt’s “speaking” model (1989) comprises various modules: the conceptualizer, the formulator, the articulator, the audition, and the speech-comprehension system. Levelt also includes two knowledge bases: discourse/world knowledge and the mental lexicon. Furthermore, in the course of language planning, Levelt distinguishes several planning steps from “intention to articulation,” (the subtitle of Levelt 1989), namely conceptualizing, formulating, and articulation. Formulating proceeds in two discrete steps: grammatical encoding (access to lemmas, i.e. semantic and syntactic information) and phonological encoding (access to lexemes, i.e. phonological word forms). This two-stage approach is the defining characteristic of Levelt’s and Garrett’s discrete serial production models. Figure 5.1 depicts Levelt’s model of language production. The serial process of sentence production is shown on the left-hand side of the diagram. The monitor–which is located in the conceptualizer and conceived of as an independent functional module–makes use of the speech comprehension system shown on the right-hand side via two feedback loops: one internal (internal speech) and one external (overt speech). How can the adequacy of this model and the validity of our hypotheses be determined? Of the different empirical approaches to this topic (all of which are discussed in Levelt 1989; Jescheniak 1999), we chose language production errors, a data class that has a long tradition of investigation in psycholinguistic research. The investigation of slips of the tongue in linguistic research dates back to the famous collection of Meringer and Mayer (1895); this collection instigated a long tradition of psycholinguistic research (see, amongst others, Fromkin 1973; 1980; Garrett 1975; 1980; Dell and Reich 1981; Cutler 1982; Stemberger 1985; 1989; Dell 1986; MacKay 1987; Berg 1988; Leuninger 1989; Dell and O’Seaghdha 1992; Schade 1992; 1999; Poulisse 1999). 3

With the adoption of a serial model of language production, we do not intend to neglect or disqualify interactive models that have been proposed by connectionists or cascading models. The sign language data that we discuss here must, in principle, also possibly be accounted for by these models. The various models of language production are briefly reviewed in an article by Jescheniak (1999) and are discussed in depth in Levelt, Roelofs, and Meyer (1999).

116

A. Hohenberger, D. Happ, and H. Leuninger CONCEPTUALIZER Discourse model, situation knowledge, encyclopedia, etc.

Message generation Monitoring

Parsed speech Preverbal message FORMULATOR Grammatical encoding

SPEECH--COMPREHENSION SYSTEM LEXICON lemmas forms

Surface structure Phonological encoding Phonetic plan (internal speech)

Phonetic string

ARTICULATOR

AUDITION overt speech

Figure 5.1

Levelt’s (1989:9) model of language production

The investigation of slips of the hand is still relatively young. Klima and Bellugi (1979) and Newkirk, Klima, Pedersen, and Bellugi (1980) were the first to present a small corpus of slips of the hand (spontaneous as well as videotaped slips) in American Sign Language (ASL). Sandler and Whittemore added a second small corpus of elicited slips of the hand (Whittemore 1987). In Europe, as far as we know, our research on slips of the hand is the first. Slips (of the tongue or of the hand) offer the rare opportunity to glimpse inside the brain and to obtain a momentary access to an otherwise completely covert process: language production is highly automatic and unconscious (Levelt 1989). Slips open a window to the (linguistic) mind (Wiese 1987). This is the reason for the continued interest of psycholinguists in slips. They are nonpathological and involuntary deviations from an original plan which can occur at any stage during language production. Slips are highly characteristic of spontaneous language production. Although a negative incident, or an error, a slip reveals the normal process underlying language production. In


117

analyzing the error we can find out what the production process normally looks like.4 5.4

Method: Elicitation of slips of the hand

Traditionally, slips (of the tongue and hand) have been studied in a non-intrusive way, by means of recording them ex post facto in a paper-and-pencil fashion. Alternatively, more restricted experimental methods have been invoked to elicit slips at a higher rate (Baars, Motley, and MacKay 1975; Motley and Baars 1976; Baars 1992). In order to combine the advantages of both methods – naturalness as well as objectivity of the data – we developed the following elicitation task. We asked 10 adult deaf signers to sign 14 picture stories of varying lengths under various cognitive stress conditions (unordered pictures, signing under time pressure, cumulative repetition of the various pictures in the story, combinations of the conditions).5 Figure 5.2 shows one of the short stories that had to be verbalized.6 The signers who were not informed about the original goal of the investigation were videotaped for 30–45 minutes. This raw material was subsequently analyzed by the collaborators of the project. Importantly, a deaf signer who is competent in DGS as well as linguistic theory participated in the project. We see these as indispensable preconditions for being able to identify slips of the hand. Then, video clips of the slip sequences were digitized and fed into a large computer database. Subsequently, the slips and their corrections were categorized according to the following main criteria:7 r type of slip: anticipation, perseveration, harmony error,8 substitution (semantic, formal, or both semantic and formal), blend, fusion, exchange, deletion; r entity: phonological feature, morpheme, word, phrase; r correction: yes/no; if yes, then by locus of correction: before word, within word, after word, delayed. 4 5 6

7 8

This is also the logic behind Caramazza’s (1984) transparency condition. On the limitations of speech errors as evidence for language production processes, see also Meyer (1992). Cognitive stress is supposed to diminish processing resources which should affect language production as a resource-dependent activity (compare Leuninger, Happ, and Hohenberger 2000a). We thank DawnSignPress, San Diego, for kind permission to use the picture material of two of their VISTA course books for teaching ASL (Smith, Lentz, and Mikos 1988; Lentz, Mikos, and Smith 1989). The complete matrix contains additional information which is not relevant in the present context. Whereas the other pertinent slip categories need no further explanation, we briefly define “harmony” error here. By “harmony” we denote an error that has two sources, one in the left and one in the right context, so that it is impossible to tell whether it is an anticipation or a perseveration. Note that Berg (1988) calls these errors doppelquellig (“errors with two sources”), and Stemberger (1989) calls them “A/P errors” (anticipation/perseveration). We prefer the term “harmony” as it captures the fact well that two identical elements in the left and right context “harmonize” the element in their middle.

Figure 5.2

Picture story of the elicitation task


(a)

(b)

119

(c)

Figure 5.3a SEINE [Y-hand]; 5.3b ELTERN [Y-hand]; 5.3c correct: SEINE [B-hand]

Our scoring procedure is illustrated by the following slip of the hand: SEINE [B-hand → Y-hand] his ‘his parents’

(1)

ELTERN9 parents

In (1) the signer anticipates the Y handshape of ELTERN (see Figure 5.3b) when signing the possessive pronoun SEINE (see Figure 5.3a) which is correctly signed with the B handshape (see Figure 5.3c). The other three phonological features – hand orientation, movement, and place of articulation – are not affected. The slip is apparently unnoticed by the signer as evidenced by the fact that it was not corrected. Scoring for example (1): r type of slip: anticipation; r entity: phonological feature (handshape); r correction: no. In Section 5.5, we present our major empirical findings on slips of the hands and compare them to slips of the tongue. 9

We represent the slips of the hand by using the following notations: SEINE [B-hand →Y-hand] S(OHN) GEHT-ZU // mouth gesture NICHT-VORHANDEN

The slip is given in italics. In brackets, we first note the intended form followed by the erroneous form after the arrow. In parentheses, we note parts of the sign which are not spelled out. The hyphen indicates a single DGS sign as opposed to separate words in spoken German. The double slash indicates the point of interruption. Nonmanual parts of a sign (in this case, mouth gestures) are represented on an additional layer.

n

44 45 13 5 38 1 1 32 18 2 4

203

Slip of the hand type

Anticipation Perseveration Harmony Substitution semantic formal semantic and formal Blend Fusion Exchange Deletion

Total Total (as percentage)

100.0

21.7 22.1 6.4 2.5 18.7 0.5 0.5 15.7 8.8 1.0 2.0

%

112 55.2

1 30 18 1 2

4 35

9 12

Word

78 38.4

2

32 31 13

Phonology: sum 16 11 10

Handshape

9 1

Hand orientation 4 1

Move

Affected entity

Table 5.1 DGS slip categories, cross-classified with affected entity

2 3

Place

1

3

Other

1

5 3 2

h1+h2 5 1

Combination

12 6

1

1

1 3 1

3 2

Morpheme


5.5

Results

5.5.1

Distribution of slip categories and affected entities

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In Table 5.1 we analyze the distribution of the various slip categories crossclassified with entities.10 In these data, the slip categories that contain the most errors are anticipation and perseveration; these are syntagmatic errors. The next largest categories are semantic substitutions and blends; these are paradigmatic errors. In a syntagmatic error, the correct serialization of elements is affected. Observationally, a phonological feature, such as a handshape, is spelled out too early (anticipation)11 or too late (perseveration).12 If a phonological feature is affected, this error is located in the formulator module; strictly speaking this happens during the access of the lexeme lexicon where the phonological form of a word is specified. In a paradigmatic error, elements that are members of the same paradigm are affected. A paradigm may, for example, consist of verbs that share semantic features. Typically, one verb substitutes for a semantically related one; for example SIT substitutes for STAND. Semantic substitutions take place in the formulator again, but this time during access of the lemma-lexicon where semantic and grammatical category information is specified. The most frequently affected entities are sign words, followed by phonological parameters. Morphemes and phrases are only rarely affected. Most slip categories co-occur with all entities. There are, however, preferred co-occurrences that are presented in Section 5.5.2. 5.5.2

Selection of original slips of the hand

In this section we present a qualitative analysis of a small collection of slips of the hand that exemplify the major results in Section 5.5.1. The errors may or may not be corrected. Typically, paradigmatic errors such as semantic substitutions 10

11 12

The categories and the affected entities are those described in Section 5.3. The phonological features are further specified as handshape, hand orientation, movement, and place of articulation. The category ‘other’ concerns other phonological errors; for example the proper selection of fingers or the contact. The category ‘h1 and h2’ concerns the proper selection of hands, e.g. a one-handed sign is changed into a two-handed sign. The category ‘combination’ concerns slips where more than one phonological feature is changed. Compare example (1) in Section 5.4. In a serial, modular perspective (as in Garrett, Levelt), the problem with syntagmatic errors concerns the proper binding of elements to slots specified by the representations on the respective level. From a connectionist perspective, the problem with syntagmatic errors concerns the proper timing of elements. Both approaches, binding-by-evaluation and binding-by-timing are competing conceptions of the language production process (see also Levelt, Roelofs, and Meyer 1999).

122

(a)


(b)

(c)

Figure 5.4a substitution: VA(TER); 5.4b conduite: SOHN; 5.4c target/correction: BUB

and blends referred to in Section 5.4.1 affect words. Example (2) is a semantic substitution (with a conduite d’approche13 ): (2)

(Context: A boy is looking for his missing shoe) VA(TER) [BUB → VATER] S(OHN) [conduite: BUB → SOHN] BUB father son boy ‘the father, son, boy’

The signer starts with the erroneously selected lemma VATER (‘father’) given in Figure 5.4a. That BUB and not VATER is the intended sign can be inferred from the context in which the discourse topic is the boy who is looking for his missing shoe. After introducing the boy, the signer goes on to say where the boy is looking for his shoe. Apart from contextual information, the repair BUB also indicates the target sign. Immediately after the onset of the movement of VATER, the signer changes the handshape to the F-hand with which SOHN (‘son’) is shown in Figure 5.4b.14 Eventually, the signer converges on the target sign BUB (‘boy’) as can be seen in Figure 5.4c. Linearization errors such as anticipation, perseveration, and harmony errors typically affect phonological features. Example (3) is a perseveration of the handshape of the immediately preceding sign: 13

14

A conduite d’approche is a stepwise approach to the target word, either related to semantics or to form. In (2) the target word BUB is reached only via the semantically related word SOHN, the conduite. In fact the downward movement is characteristic of TOCHTER (‘daughter’); SOHN (‘son’) is signed upwards. We have, however, good reasons to suppose that SOHN is, in fact, the intended intermediate sign which only coincidentally surfaces as TOCHTER because of the compelling downward movement from VATER to the place of articulation of BUB. Thus, the string VATER–SOHN–BUB behaves like a compound.


(a)

(b)

123

(c)

Figure 5.5a VATER [B-hand]; 5.5b slip: MOTHER [B-hand]; 5.5c correct: MOTHER [G-hand]

(3)

(Discourse topic: the boy) (ER) GEHT-ZU VATER MUTTER [G-hand → B-hand] SAGTBESCHEID (He) goes-to father mother tells-them ‘(The boy) goes to father and mother, and tells them . . .’

In (3) the B handshape of VATER (‘father’) as can be seen in Figure 5.5a is perseverated on the sign for MUTTER (‘mother’), as shown in Figure 5.5b. MUTTER is correctly signed with the G-hand as can be seen in Figure 5.5c. With regard to serial handshape errors, we need to explain how erroneous phonological processes are distinguished from non-erroneous ones. First, Zimmer (1989) reports on handshape anticipations and perseverations on the nondominant hand which occur frequently in “casual” registers. While we acknowledge the phenomenon Zimmer describes, it is important not to mix these cases with the ones reported here; these ones concern the dominant hand only.15 Second, it has been observed that signers of ASL and of Danish Sign Language may systematically assimilate the index [G] handshape to the preceding or following sign with first person singular, but not with second and third person singular. Superficially, these cases look like anticipations and perseverations. While we also observe this phenomenon in DGS, it does not seem to have a comparable systematic status as in ASL.16 In (1) above SEINE ELTERN (‘his parents’) it is the third person singular possessive pronoun SEINE (‘his’) which is affected. This clearly cannot be accounted for along the lines of Zimmer (1989). Handshape is the most prominent phonological feature to be affected by linearization errors. Our findings with regard to the high proportion of handshape errors among the phonological slips reproduce earlier findings of Klima and 15

16

In fact we found only one perseveration that concerns the nondominant hand of a P2-sign (in the sense of Sandler 1993). The nondominant hand is rarely affected, and this fact might mirror the minor significance of the nondominant hand in sign language production. We found only four such cases (three anticipations and one perseveration) which involved first person singular.

124

(a)


(b)

(c)

Figure 5.6a MANN [forehead]; 5.6b slip: FRAU [forehead]; 5.6c correct: FRAU [breast]

Bellugi (1979; see also Newkirk et al. 1980, and Section 5.5.3). They report 49.6 percent of handshape errors which equals our ratio of 47.4 percent. Our result is also confirmed by findings in sign language aphasia, where phonological paraphasia mostly concerns the handshape parameter (Corina 1998). Other phonological features – such as hand orientation, movement, and place of articulation – are only rarely affected. In (4) we introduce a place of articulation error: (4) (Context: The signer suddenly realizes that the character he had referred to as a man is, in fact, a woman) MANN FRAU [POA: MANN] man woman ‘The man is a woman.’ In (4) the signer perseverates the place of articulation of MANN [forehead] (see Figure 5.6a) on the sign FRAU (see Figure 5.6b). The correct place of articulation of FRAU is at the chest (see Figure 5.6c). All other phonological parameters (hand orientation, movement, handshape) are from FRAU. Fusions are another slip category that are sensitive to linearization. Here, two neighboring signs fuse. Each loses parts of its phonological specification; together they form a single sign (syllable), as in (5): (5)

17

(Context: A boy is looking for his missing shoe)17 mouth gesture: blowing SCHUH DA (ER) NICHT-VORHANDEN [F-hand → V-hand] SCHAUT [path movement → circular movement] shoe here (he) not-there looks ‘He looks for the shoe, and finds nothing.’

We represent the fusion by stacking the glosses for both fused signs, SCHAUT and NICHTVORHANDEN, as phonological features of both signs realized simultaneously. The nonmanual feature of NICHT-VORHANDEN – the mouth gesture (blowing) – has scope over the fusion. The [F]-handshape of NICHT-VORHANDEN, however, is suppressed, as is the straight or arc movement and hand orientation of SCHAUEN.


125

In (5), the signer fuses the two signs SCHAUT (‘looks’) and NICHTVORHANDEN (‘nothing’). The [V] handshape is from SCHAUT; the circular movement, the hand orientation, and the mouth gesture (blowing out a stream of air) is from NICHT-VORHANDEN. The fused elements are adjacent and have a syntagmatic relation in the phrase. Their positional frames are fused into a single frame; phonological features stem from both signs. Interestingly, a nonmanual feature (the mouth gesture) is also involved.18 Fusions in spoken languages are not a major slip category but have been reported in the literature (Shattuck-Hufnagel 1979; Garrett 1980; Stemberger 1984). Fusions are similar to blends, formationally, but involve neighboring elements in the syntactic string, whereas blends involve paradigmatically related semantic items. Stemberger (1984) argues that they are structural errors involving two words in the same phrase for which, however, only one word node is generated. In our DGS data, two neighboring signs are fused into a single planning slot, whereby some phonological features stem from the one sign and some from the other; see (5). Slips of this type may relate to regular processes such as composition by which new and more convenient signs are generated synchronically and diachronically. Therefore, one might speculate that fusions are more frequent in sign language than in spoken language, as our data suggest. This issue, however, is not well understood and needs further elaboration. Word blends are frequent paradigmatic errors in DGS. In (6) two semantically related items – HOCHZEIT (‘marriage’) and HEIRAT (‘wedding’) – compete for lemma selection and phonological encoding. The processor selects both of them and an intricate blend results; this blend is complicated by the fact that both signs are two-handed signs: (6)

HEIRAT HOCHZEIT// HEIRAT PAAR marriage couple// wedding// marriage couple ‘wedding couple’

PAAR//

The two competing items in the blend (6) are HEIRAT (‘marriage’) (see Figure 5.7b) and HOCHZEIT (‘wedding’) (see Figure 5.7c).19 In the slip (see Figure 5.7a), the dominant hand has the [Y] handshape of HOCHZEIT and also performs the path movement of HOCHZEIT, while the orientation and configuration of the two hands is that of HEIRAT. For the sign HEIRAT, the dominant hand puts the ring on the non-dominant hand’s ring finger as in the 18

19

It is important not to confuse fusions and blends. Whereas in fusions neighboring elements in the syntagmatic string interact, only signs that bear a paradigmatic (semantic) relation engage in a blend. While SCHAUT and NICHT-VORHANDEN have no such relation, the signs involved in blends like (6) do. Note that this blend has presumably been triggered by an “appropriateness” repair, namely the extension of PAAR (‘couple’) to HEIRATSPAAR (‘wedding couple’).

126


(a)

(b)

(c)

Figure 5.7a slip: HEIRAT/HOCHZEIT; 5.7b correction: HEIRAT; 5.7c correct: HOCHZEIT

wedding ceremony. In the slip, however, the dominant hand glides along the palm of the non-dominant hand and not over its back, as in HOCHZEIT. Interestingly, features of both signs are present simultaneously, but distributed on the two articulators, the hand; this kind of error is impossible in spoken languages. The blend is corrected after the erroneous sign. This time, one of the competing signs, HEIRAT, is correctly selected. 5.5.3

Intra-modal and inter-modal comparison with other slip corpora

In this section we present a quantitative and a qualitative analysis of our slips of the hand data. We then compare our slip corpus with the one compiled by Klima and Bellugi (1979), which also appears in Newkirk et al. (1980). With respect to word and morpheme errors, the latter is not very informative. Klima and Bellugi report that only nine out of a total of 131 slips were whole signs being exchanged. No other whole word errors (substitutions, blends) are reported. With respect to the distribution of phonological errors, however, we can make a direct comparison. The ASL corpus consists of 89 phonological slips that are distributed as shown in Table 5.2. We present our data so that it is directly comparable to Klima and Bellugi’s.20 As can be seen in Table 5.2, the distribution in both slip collections is parallel. As expected, hand configuration (especially handshape) has the lion’s share in the overall number of phonological slips. The reason why handshape is so frequently involved in slipping may have to do with inventory size and the motoric programs that encode handshape. In DGS the signer has to select the correct handshape from a set of approximately 32 handshapes (Pfau 1997) which may lead to mis-selection to a certain 20

In the rearrangement of our own data from Table 5.1 we only considered the first four parameters and left out the minor categories (other, h1 + h2, combination; see footnote 10 above). Note that we have combined handshape and hand orientation into the single parameter “hand configuration” in Table 5.2.


127

Table 5.2 Frequency (percentages in parentheses) of phonological errors by parameter in ASL (Klima and Bellugi 1979) and in DGS Parameter

ASL

DGS

Hand configuration Place of articulation Movement

65 (73) 13 (14.6) 11 (12.4)

47 (82.5) 5 (8.8) 5 (8.8)

Total

89 (100)

57 (100)

degree. One might conjecture that the bigger the inventory, the more error-prone the process of selection both because there is higher competition between the members of the set and because the representational space has a higher density. Furthermore, the motor programs for activating these handshapes involve only minor differences; this might be an additional reason for mis-selection. Note that the inventory for hand orientation is much smaller – there are only six major hand orientations that are used distinctively – and the motor programs encoding this parameter can be relatively imprecise. Hand orientation errors, accordingly, are less frequent. In spoken language, phonological features are also not equally affected in slips; the place feature (labial, alveolar, palatal, glottal, uvular, etc.) is most frequently involved (Leuninger, Happ, and, Hohenberger 2000b). In order to address the question of modality, we have to make a second comparison, this time with a corpus of slips of the tongue. We use the Frankfurt corpus of slips of the tongue.21 This corpus includes approximately 5000 items. Although both corpora differ with respect to the method by which the data were gathered and with respect to categorization, we provide a broad comparison. As can be seen from Tables 5.1 and 5.3,22 there is an overall congruence for affected entities and slip categories. There are, however, two major discrepancies. First, there are almost no exchanges in the sign language data, whereas they are frequent in the spoken language data. Second, morphemes are rarely affected in DGS, whereas they are affected to a higher degree in spoken German. These two results become most obvious in the absence of stranding errors in DGS. In Section 5.5.3.1 we concentrate on these discrepancies, pointing out possible modality effects. 21 22

We are in the process of collecting slips of the tongue from adult German speakers in the same setting, so we have to postpone the exact quantitative intermodal comparison for now. In Table 5.3 the following categories from Table 5.1 are missing: harmony, formal, and semantic and formal substitutions. These categories were not included in the set of categories by the time this corpus had been accumulated. Harmony errors are included in the anticipation and perseveration category.

128


Table 5.3 Slip categories/affected entities for the German slip corpus Affected entity Slip of the tongue type

n

Anticipation Perseveration Substitution, semantic Blend Exchange Fusion Deletion Addition

1024 906 1094 923 774 13 182 35

Total Total (as percentage)

4951

%

Word

Phoneme

20.7 18.3 22.1 18.6 15.6 0.3 3.7 0.7

143 155 783 658 200 10 46 8

704 644 147 13 439 2 78 17

100.0

2003 40.5

2043 41.3

Morpheme 177 107 164 242 135 1 58 10 894 18.1

Phrase

10

10 0.2

5.5.3.1 Absence of stranding errors. One of the most striking differences between the corpora is the absence of stranding errors in DGS. Surprising as this result is from the point of view of spoken languages, it is in line with Klima and Bellugi’s earlier findings for ASL. They, too, did not find any stranding errors (Klima and Bellugi 1979). In this section we explore possible reasons for this finding. In spoken languages, this category is well documented (for English, see Garrett 1975; 1980; Stemberger 1985; 1989; Dell 1986; for Arabic, see Abd-ElJawad and Abu-Salim 1987; for Spanish, see Del Viso, Igoa, and Garc´ıa-Albea 1991; for German, see Leuninger 1996). Stranding occurs when the free content morphemes of two words, usually neighbors, are exchanged whereas their respective bound grammatical morphemes stay in situ. A famous English example is (7a); a German example which is even richer in bound morphology is (7b): (7)

a. turking talkish ← talking Turkish (from Garrett 1975); b. mein kollegischer Malaye ← mein malayischer Kollege; ‘my colleagical Malay’← “my Malay colleague” (Leuninger 1996:114).

In (7a) the word stems talk- and turk-, figuring in a verb and an adjective, respectively, are exchanged, leaving behind the gerund -ing and the adjectival morpheme -ish. This misordering is suppposed to take place at a level of processing where the word form (morphological, segmental content) is encoded, on the positional level (Garrett’s terminology) or lexeme level (Levelt’s terminology). In (7b), the stems malay- and kolleg-, figuring in an adjective and a noun, respectively, are exchanged, leaving behind the adjectival morpheme -isch as well as the case/gender/number morpheme -er of the adjective and the nominalizing morpheme -e of the noun.


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The absence of this category in DGS and ASL calls for some explanation. First of all, we have to exclude a sampling artifact. The data in both corpora (DGS vs. spoken German) were collected in a very different fashion: the slips of the tongue stem from a spontaneous corpus; the slips of the hand from an elicited corpus (for details, see Section 5.4). The distribution of slip categories in the former type of corpora is known to be prone to listeners’ biases (compare Meyer 1992; Ferber 1995; see also Section 5.4). Stranding errors are perceptually salient, and because of their spectacular form they are more likely to be recorded and added to a slip collection. In an objective slip collection, however, this bias is not operative.23 Pending the exact quantification of our elicited slips of the tongue, we now turn to linguistic reasons that are responsible for the differences. The convergent findings in ASL as well as in DGS are significant: if morphemes do not strand in either ASL or DGS this strongly hints at a systematic linguistic reason. What first comes to mind is the difference in morphological type: spoken German is a concatenative language to a much higher degree than DGS or ASL. Although spoken German is fusional to a considerable degree (see Section 5.2), it is far more concatenative than DGS in that morphemes typically line up neatly one after the other, yielding, for example, ‘mein malay-isch-er Kolleg-e’ (‘my Malay colleague’) with one derivational morpheme (-isch), one stemgenerating morpheme (-e) and one case/agreement morpheme (-er). In DGS this complex nominal phrase would contain no such functional morphemes but take the form: MEIN KOLLEGE MALAYISCH (‘my Malay colleague’). For this reason, no stranding can occur in such phrases in the first place. Note that this is not a modality effect but one of language type. We can easily show that this effect cuts across languages in the same modality, simply by looking at the English translation of (7b): ‘my Malay colleague.’ In English comparable stranding could also not occur because the bound morphemes (on the adjective and the noun) are not overt, as in DGS. English, however, has many other bound morphemes that are readily involved in stranding errors (as in 7a), unlike in DGS. Now we are ready for the crucial question, namely, whether we are to expect no stranding errors in DGS (or ASL) at all? The answer is no. Stranding errors should, in principle, occur (see also Klima and Bellugi 1979).24 What we have to determine is what grammatical morphemes could be involved in such sign morpheme strandings. The answer to this question relates to the second reason for the low frequency of DGS stranding errors: high vs. low separability of 23

24

A preliminary inspection of our corpus of elicited slips of the tongue suggests that stranding errors are also a low-frequency error category in spoken languages, so that the apparent difference is not one between language types but is, at least partly, due to a sampling artifact. Klima and Bellugi (1979) report on a memory study in which signers sometimes misplaced the inflection. Although this is not the classical case of stranding (where the inflections stay in situ while the root morphemes exchange), this hints at a possible separability of morphemes during online production.

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Figure 5.8

A polymorphemic form in ASL (Brentari 1998:21)

grammatical morphemes. This difference is a traditional one of descriptive linguistics and dates back to the early days of research into Indo-European languages (Kean 1977). Sign languages such as DGS are extremely rich with inflectional and derivational morphemes and, crucially, are able to realize them at the same time. Figure 5.8 describes a polymorphemic ASL sign in which nine morphemes (content morphemes and classifiers) are simultaneously realized in one monosyllabic word (Brentari 1998:21) meaning something like: (8)

‘two, hunched, upright-beings, facing forward, go forward, carefully, side-by-side, from point “a”, to point “b” ’.

Of these many morphemes, however, only a few – such as the spatial loci – could, if ever, be readily involved in a stranding error. Fusional as these sign language morphemes are, they are much more resistant to being separated from each other than concatenated morphemes.25 There are, however, grammatical sign language morphemes that should allow for stranding errors, hence be readily separable; for example aspectual, plural, and agreement morphemes. In a hypothetical sentence like (9): (9)

ICH PERSON+++ I personplural ‘I ask each of them.’

ICH FRAGJEDEN-EINZELNEN I askeach-of-them

the plural morpheme +++ (realized by signing PERSON three times) and the AGR-morpheme ‘each of them’ (realized by a zigzag movement of the verbal stem FRAG) could, in principle, strand while the free content morphemes 25

In Stemberger (1985:103), however, there is little difference in the stranding of regular (high separability) vs. irregular (low separability) past tense in English speech errors.


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PERSON and FRAG- (‘to ask’) could be exchanged. This would result in the hypothetical slip (9 ): (9 )

ICH FRAG+++ I askplural

ICH PERSONJEDEN-EINZELNEN I personeach-of-them

The same holds true of aspectual morphemes such as durative or habituative which are realized as movement alternations of the verbal stem. Thus, BEZAHLENHABIT (‘to payhabitual ’) is realized as multiple short repetitions of the stem BEZAHL (‘to pay’), whereas FAHRENDURATIVE (‘to drivedurative’) is realized as prolonging the entire sign FAHREN (‘to drive’). Morphemes that have a distinct movement pattern altering the sign in the temporal dimension (repetition of the sign or stem, or specific movement: long, zigzag, or arc movement) are likely candidates for stranding errors. As their incidence in spontaneous signing is, however, low, the probability of a stranding slip in a corpus is negligible (see also Klima and Bellugi 1979:141).26 Finally, we address the issue as to whether or not our explanation can be restricted to a difference in typology rather than modality. The former line of argumentation would be highly welcome in terms of parsimony of linguistic explanation and, hence, Occam’s razor. We would simply apply a categorial difference which is already known to distinguish spoken languages. If we can show that the difference between spoken German and DGS (and, inductively, between spoken and signed languages in general) boils down to a typological difference, this would have two highly desired outcomes. First, we could show that signed languages can be typologically characterized, as can any spoken language. Signed languages would simply be an additional but, of course, very important class of languages which are subject to the same universal characteristics. This would strengthen the universality issue. Second, Occam’s razor would be satisfied in showing that it was unneccessary to invoke the “broader” concept of modality, and that the “smaller” and already well-established concept of typology suffices to explain the behavior of sign languages such as DGS. There is, however, one consideration that makes it worth invoking modality. Whereas the class of spoken languages divides into various subgroups with regard to morphological type (Chinese being an isolating language, Turkish being a concatenative language, the Indo-European languages being inflectional languages) sign languages seem to behave in a more uniform way: across the board, they all seem to be highly fusional languages realizing multiple morphemes at the same time. This hints at a common characteristic which is rooted in pecularities of the modality. 26

We are confident, though, to be able to elicit these errors in an appropriate setting where the stimulus material is more strictly controlled than in the present study.

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Gee and Goodhart (1988) have convincingly argued that spoken and signed languages differ with respect to the amount of information that can be conveyed in a linguistic unit and in a particular time. This topic is intimately related to language production and therefore deserves closer inspection (Leuninger et al. 2000a). Spoken languages, on the one hand, make use of very fine motoric articulators (tongue, velum, vocal chords, larynx, etc.). The places of articulation of the various phonemes are very close to each other in the mouth (teeth, alveolar ridge, lips, palate, velum, uvula, etc.). The oral articulators are capable of achieving a very high temporal resolution of signals in production and can thus convey linguistic information at a very high speed. Signed languages, on the other hand, make use of coarse motoric articulators (the hands and arms, the entire body). The places of articulation are more distant from each other. The temporal resolution of signed languages is lower. Consequently, sign language production must take longer for each individual sign. The spatio-temporal and physiological constraints of language production in both modalities are quite different. On average, the rate of articulation for words doubles that of signs (4–5 words per second vs. 2.3–2.5 signs per second; see Klima and Bellugi 1979). Surprisingly, however, signed and spoken languages are on a par with regard to the ratio of propositional information per time rate. Spoken and signed sentences roughly have the same production time (Klima and Bellugi 1979). The reason for this lies in the different information density of each sign.27 A single monosyllabic sign is typically polymorphemic (remember the nine morphemes in (8); compare Brentari 1998). The condensation of information is not achieved by the high-speed serialization of segments and morphemes but by the simultaneous output of autosegmental phonological features and morphemes. Thus, we witness an ingenious trade-off between production time and informational density which enables both signed and spoken languages to come up with what Slobin (1977) formulated as a basic requirement of languages, namely that they “be humanly processible in real time” (see also Gee and Goodhart 1988). If we follow this line of argumentation it follows quite naturally that signed languages – due to their modality-specific production constraints – will always be attracted to autosegmental phonology and fusional morphology. Spoken languages being subject to less severe constraints will be free to choose between the available options. We therefore witness a greater amount of variability among them. 27

Klima and Bellugi (1979) suggest that the omission of function words such as complementizers, determiners, auxiliaries, etc. also economizes time. We do not follow them here because there are also spoken languages that have many zero functors, although they are obviously not pressed to economize time by omitting them.


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5.5.3.2 Fewer exchanges in general: Phonological features and words. As can be seen by comparing Table 5.1 and 5.3, not only are stranding errors absent in our DGS corpus, but exchanges of any linguistic entity are extremely rare as compared to the spoken German corpus. The analysis of phonological and word exchanges in spoken language has been of special importance since Garrett (1975; 1980) and others proposed the first models of language production. Garrett showed that the errors in (10a) and (10b) arise at different processing levels which he identified as the functional (lemma) level and the positional (lexeme) level: (10)

a. the list was not in the word ← the word was not in the list (Stemberger 1985, in Berg 1988:26); b. heft lemisphere ← left hemisphere (Fromkin 1973, in Meyer 1992:183).

The reasons to differentiate both types of exchange lie in distinct constraints and vocabulary used to compute both kinds of exchange. The words involved in word exchanges, on the one hand, always obey the word class constraint, i.e. nouns exchange with nouns, and verbs with verbs, but they do not necessarily share the same phrase. The segments involved in phoneme exchanges, on the other hand, do belong to the same phrase and do not obey the “word class constraint.” However, they obey the “syllable position constraint,” namely that segments of like syllable positions interact; for example onset with onset, nucleus with nucleus, and coda with coda (Garrett 1975; 1980; Levelt 1992; Meyer 1992; Poulisse 1999). MacNeilage (1998) refers to this constraint in terms of a “framecontent metaphor”28 at the core of which is the lack of interchangeability of the two major class elements of spoken language phonology, consonants, and vowels.29 Although in the Klima and Bellugi study (1979; see also Newkirk et al. 1980) no word errors are reported, they found nine phonological exchanges. Among these is the following handshape exchange: (11)

SICK BORED (Newkirk et al. 1980:171; see also Klima and Bellugi 1979:130)

Here, the handshapes for SICK (G-hand) and BORED (exposed middle finger) are exchanged; the other features (place of articulation, hand orientation, and movement) remain unaffected. 28 29

We are thankful to Peter MacNeilage for pointing out the “frame-content metaphor” to us in this context. It is well known that in spoken languages phonological slips in normal speakers and phonological paraphasia in aphasic patients concern mostly consonants. The preponderance of handshape errors in sign language production errors as well as in aphasic signing bears directly on the “frame-content metaphor” and invites speculation on a modality-independent effect in this respect. Consonants in spoken and signed languages may be more vulnerable than vowels due to a “neural difference in representation” (Corina 1998:321).

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Given the fact that all major phonological features (handshape, place of articulation, hand orientation, and movement) can be affected in “simple” signing errors where only one element is affected as in anticipations, perseverations, and harmony errors (see Table 5.1), one wonders why they should not also figure in “complex” signing errors where two elements are affected. Handshape exchanges like the one in (11) should, therefore, be expected. There is no reason to suppose that sign language features cannot be separated from each other. In fact, it was one of the main goals of Newkirk et al. (1980) to demonstrate that there are also sub-lexical phonological features in ASL, and to provide empirical evidence against the unwarranted view that signs are simply indivisible wholes, holistic gestures not worth being seriously studied by phonologists. Note that spoken and signed languages differ in the following way with respect to phonological errors in general and phonological exchanges in particular. Segments of concatenating spoken languages such as English and German are lined up like beads on a string in a strictly serial order as specified in the lexical item’s word form (lexeme). If two complete segments are exchanged, the “syllable position constraint” is always obeyed. The same, however, cannot hold true of the phonological features of a sign. They do not behave as segments: they are not realized linearly, but simultaneously. It is a modality specificity, indeed, that the sign’s phonological features are realized at the same time, although they are all represented on independent autosegmental tiers. Obviously, the “frame-content metaphor” (MacNeilage 1998) cannot be transferred to signed languages straightforwardly. The “frame-content metaphor” states that “a word’s skeleton and its segmental content are independently generated” (Levelt 1992:10). This is most obvious in segmental exchanges. If we roughly attribute handshape, hand orientation, and place of articulation consonantal status and movement vocalic status, then of the two constraints on phonological errors – the “segment class constraint” and the “syllable position constraint”– sign languages obey only the former (compare Perlmutter 1992). Typically, one handshape is replaced with another handshape or one movement with another movement. The latter constraint, however, cannot hold true of the phonological features of a sign because they are realized simultaneously. Thus, phonological slips in sign languages compare to segmental slips in spoken languages, but there is no equivalence for segmental slips in sign language. We still have to answer the question why exchanges across all entities are so rare in sign language. As Stemberger (1985) pointed out, the true number of exchanges may be veiled by what he calls “incompletes,” i.e. covered exchanges that are caught and repaired by the monitor after the first part of the exchange has taken place. (An incomplete is an early corrected exchange.) These errors, then, do not surface as exchanges but as anticipations. As a null hypothesis we assume that the number of exchanges, true anticipations, and incompletes is the same for spoken and signed languages, unless their incidence interacts


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with other processes that change the probability of their occurrence. We will, in fact, argue below that monitoring is such a process. In Section 5.6 we point out that the cut-off points in signed and spoken languages are different. Errors are detected and repaired apparently earlier in sign languages, preferentially in the problem item itself, whereas repairs in spoken languages start later, after the erroneous word or even later. If this holds true, exchanges may be more likely to surface in spoken languages simply because both parts of the error would have already occurred before the monitor was able to detect them. 5.6

The sign language monitor: Repair behavior in DGS

Corrections are natural phenomena in spontaneous language production. Advanced models of language production therefore contain a functional component that supervises its own output, realizes discrepancies to the intended utterance, and, if necessary, induces a repair. This module is the monitor. In Levelt’s model the monitor (see Figure 5.1) is situated in the conceptualizer, i.e. hierarchically very high, and is fed by two feedback loops, one internal (via internal speech), the other external (via overt speech). The monitor uses the speech comprehension system as its informational route. The fact that the language production system supervises itself and provides repairs is not at all trivial. Repair behavior is a complex adaptive behavior and shows the capacity of the system in an impressive way. To date, monitor behavior in signed languages has not been investigated systematically. In the following discussion we analyze slip repairs from a model-theoretic perspective. According to Hypothesis 2a, we expect comparable monitoring with respect to processing DGS and spoken German. The rate of correction and correction types should be the same. According to Hypothesis 2b, we expect the sign language monitor to be sensitive to the specific representations of signed and spoken languages. Therefore, repair behavior is taken to be an interesting new set of data that can reveal possible modality differences. In the following, we present our quantitative analysis of repairs in DGS. Above all, we concentrate on the locus of repair in spoken languages and DGS because this criterion reveals the most striking difference between DGS and spoken language. 5.6.1

Locus of repair: Signed vs. spoken language

Slip collections do not always contain detailed information about repair behavior. We believe, however, that monitor behavior is revealing with respect to the capacity of the processor, to incremental language production, and to the processor’s dependency on the linguistic representations it computes (Leuninger et al. 2000a).

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Table 5.4 Locus of repair (percentages) in DGS vs. Dutch Locus of repair

DGS

Before word Within word After word Delayed

8 57 37 8

Total slip repairs Ratio repairs/slips

Dutch (7.3) (51.8) (33.6) (7.3)

110 (100.0) 110/203 (54.2)

0 91 193 115

(23) (48) (29)

399 (100)

Source: Levelt 1983:63

In this section we address the following questions: To what extent do German signers correct their slips? What are the main cut-off points and do these correspond to those in spoken languages? According to Levelt (1983:56; 1989:476), the speaker adheres to the Main Interruption Rule: namely “Stop the flow of speech immediately upon detecting trouble.” It is assumed that this rule is obeyed in the same way in both spoken and sign language. However, we see that – due to modality differences – repairs in sign language appear to occur earlier than those in spoken language. Table 5.4 shows the distribution of repairs at four cut-off points (see Section 5.4): before word,30 within word, after word, and delayed. We compare the DGS data with error repairs of Dutch speakers from Levelt (1983).31 First, we can see that 54.2 percent of all slips in DGS are repaired. This is in the normal range when compared with the percentage of repairs in spoken languages, which exhibit varying correction rates of about 50 percent. Focusing on differences in monitor behavior between DGS and spoken languages, as can be seen from Table 5.4, the most frequent locus of repair for DGS is within word (51.8 percent), followed by after the word (33.6 percent). 30

31

The diagnosis of such early repairs is possible because the handshape is already in place during the transitional movement. This allows a good guess to be made at what sign would have been produced if it had not been caught by the monitor. Maybe these extremely early repairs must be compared to sub-phonological speech errors which consist in altered motor patterns that are imperceptible unless recorded by special electromyographic techniques, as in the study of Mowry and MacKay (1990). Furthermore, these early repairs encourage us to speculate on the time course of activation of the various phonological parameters of a sign. Handshape seems to be activated extremely early and very fast, obviously before the other parameters – i.e. hand orientation, place of articulation, and movement – are planned. This would mean that sequentiality is, in fact, an issue when signs are accessed in the lexeme lexicon. We compared our DGS repairs with only a subset of Levelt’s data set, namely with error repairs (E repairs) (Levelt 1983:63). It is well known that in appropriateness repairs (A repairs), the speaker tends to complete the inappropriate word before he or she corrects it because it is not erroneous. In E repairs, however, the speaker corrects his or her faulty utterance as fast as possible, not respecting word boundaries to the same extent.


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Delayed repairs where some material intervenes between the error and the repair are rare (7.3 percent) as are early repairs before word onset (7.3 percent). The cut-off points in spoken language (here, Dutch) are different.32 The typical locus of repair in spoken language is after the word. Corrections within the word are rarer, and delayed repairs are more frequent. For DGS, however, repairs peak on very fast repairs within the word, followed by increasingly slower repairs. However, we do not invoke modality as an explanation for this apparent difference because it is only a superficial, albeit interesting, explanation. From the discussion in Section 5.5 of the different production times for spoken vs. signed languages (the ratio of which is 2:1), we can easily predict that the longer duration of a sign word will influence the locus of repair, provided that the overall capacity of the spoken and the sign language monitor is the same. The following prediction seems to hold: because a signed word takes twice as long as a spoken word, errors will be more likely to be caught within the word in sign language, but after the word in spoken language. Note that this difference becomes even more obvious when we characterize the locus of repair in terms of syllables. In DGS, the error is caught within a single syllable, whereas for spoken Dutch, the syllable counting begins only after the trouble word (not counting any syllables within the error). Again, the reason is that words in signed language (monomorphemic as well as polymorphemic) tend to be monosyllabic (see Section 5.5). This one syllable, however, has a long production time and allows for a repair at some point during its production.33 Thus, the comparison of signed and spoken language repairs reveals once more the different temporal expansion of identical linguistic elements, i.e. words and syllables. This is a modality effect, but not a linguistic one. This effect is related to the articulatory interface. Note that in Chomsky’s minimalist program (1995) PF, which is related to articulation and perception, is one of the interfaces with which the language module interacts. Obviously, spoken and signed languages are subject to very different anatomical and physiological constraints with regard to their articulators. Our data reveal exactly this difference. Would it be more appropriate to characterize the locus of repair not in terms of linguistic entities but in terms of physical time? If we did this we would find that in both language types repairs would, on average, be provided equally fast. With this result any apparent modality effect vanishes. We would not know, however, what differences in the temporal resolution of linguistic entities exist in both languages, and that these differences result in a very different 32 33

Levelt distinguishes word-internal corrections (without further specifying where in the word), corrections after the word, and delayed corrections that are measured in syllables after the error. It is even possible that both the erroneous word and the repair share a single syllable. In these cases, the repair is achieved by a handshape change during the path movement. This is in accord with phonological syllable constraints (Perlmutter 1992) which allow for handshape changes on the nucleus of a sign.

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monitor behavior. Stopping after the problem word has been completed or while producing the problem word itself makes a difference for both the producer and the interlocutor. 5.7

Summary and conclusions

We have investigated slips of the hand and repair behavior in DGS and compared them to slips of the tongue and repair behavior in spoken languages. Our aim was to determine whether there are true modality differences between them. Our major finding is that signed and spoken language production is, in principle, the same. This comes as no surprise as both are natural languages and are therefore subject to the same constraints on representation and processing. Due to modality differences, the satisfaction of these constraints may, however, be different in each language. In this respect, our language production data reveal exactly the phonological, morphological, and syntactic design of DGS and spoken German. Language production data therefore provide external evidence for the structures and representations of DGS in particular, and of sign languages in general, which have been analyzed by sign language researchers so far. As for the slip behavior, stranding errors are absent in DGS and exchange errors are, in general, very rare. Fusions are more prominent. We explain this discrepancy partly by appealing to typological differences and more specifically with respect to the autosegmental character of the phonology and morphology of signed languages. The possibility of simultaneous encoding of linguistic information enhances the information density of signs. They may be composed of many morphemes which are realized at the same time. As this is characteristic of sign languages in general and not just of a particular typological class (as the Semitic languages in spoken languages) we acknowledge that this discrepancy is rooted in a true modality difference. Thus, the simultaneous encoding of morphological information is – at first sight – a typological difference, but one which is layered upon a true modality effect. The repair behavior in DGS reveals again the different interface conditions (articulatory, physical, and timing conditions) of spoken and signed languages. The longer production time of signs enables the monitor to catch and repair errors before the end of the sign. The low incidence of exchanges receives an explanation along these lines: they are rarer in sign language because the monitor has enough time to catch them after the first erroneous word (the anticipation) due to the longer production time of signed vs. spoken words. The physical, neurophysiological, and motor constraints on the primary articulators (hands vs. vocal tract) and receptors (visual vs. auditory) in signed vs. spoken languages are vastly different (see Brentari, this volume). These are indisputable modality differences. They are, however, situated at the linguistic interfaces, here at the articulatory–perceptual interface (Chomsky 1995).


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Our approach to modality effects is a highly restrictive one. We only accept the different degree of linguistic information being processed simultaneously and the different interface conditions as true modality differences. All other differences turn out to be typological differences or crosslinguistic differences that have always been known to exist between natural languages. From the perspective of UG, the question of modality is always a secondary one, the primary one being the question of the nature of language itself. Acknowledgments Our research project is based on a grant given to Helen Leuninger by the German Research Council (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft DFG), grant number LE 596/6-1 and LE 596/6-2. 5.8

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6

The role of Manually Coded English in language development of deaf children Samuel J. Supalla and Cecile McKee

6.1

Introduction

A pressing question related to the well-being of deaf children is how they develop a strong language base (e.g. Liben 1978). First or native language proficiency plays a vital role in many aspects of their development, ranging from social development to educational attainment to their learning of a second language. The target linguistic system should be easy to learn and use. A natural signed language is clearly a good choice for deaf children. While spoken English is a natural language, it is less obvious that a signed form of English is also a natural language. At issue is the development of Manually Coded English (MCE), which can be described as a form of language planning aimed at making English visible for deaf children (Ramsey 1989). MCE demonstrates a living experiment in which deaf children are expected to learn signed English as well as hearing children do spoken English. If MCE is a natural language, learning it should be effortless, with learning patterns consistent with what we know about natural language acquisition in general. American Sign Language (ASL) is a good example of how a sign system is defined as a natural language with the capacity of becoming a native language for deaf children, especially those of deaf parents who use ASL at home (Newport and Meier 1985; Meier 1991). However appropriate ASL is for deaf children of deaf parents, it is not the case that all deaf children are exposed to ASL. Many are born to hearing parents who do not know how to sign. One area of investigation is how children from nonsigning home environments develop proficiency in ASL. Attention to that area has diverted us from studying how deaf children acquire English through the signed medium. For this chapter, we ask whether MCE constitutes, or has the capacity of becoming, a natural language. If it does not, why not? The idea that modality-specific constraints shape the structure of language requires attention. We ask whether MCE violates constraints on the perception and processing of a signed language. We find structural deficiencies in MCE, and suggest that such problems may compromise any sign system whose grammatical structure is based on a spoken language. The potential problems 143

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associated with the structure of MCE are confounded by the fact that the input quality for many deaf children may be less than optimal, thus affecting their acquisition. The question of input quality dominates the literature regarding problems associated with MCE in both home and school settings (for a review, see Luetke-Stahlman and Moeller 1990). We regard impoverished input as an external factor. We propose to study the way MCE is structured, which is best described as an internal factor. Problematic internal factors can undermine the learning of any linguistic system, including MCE. In other words, regardless of the quality of the input, deficiencies in a linguistic system will hamper its acquisition. The focus of this chapter are the internal factors affecting MCE acquisition. We consider, for example, how words are formed in the visual– gestural modality. Such morphological considerations bear on the question of whether MCE is a natural language. First, however, we discuss some historical precedents to MCE and some theoretical assumptions underlying the language planning efforts associated with MCE. 6.2

Language planning and deaf children

The drive to make a spoken language accessible to deaf children is as old as the field of deaf education. In fact, the modern language planning effort with MCE can be traced back to Charles Michel de l’Epée, who founded the first public school for the deaf in Paris in the eighteenth century (Lane 1984a; Stedt and Moores 1990). There was initially widespread skepticism concerning deaf children’s educability. Educators at the time assumed that true language was spoken, and so deaf children would need to master a spoken language in order to be educated (Schein 1984). This, of course, proved to be a serious obstacle. Nevertheless, de l’Epée was able to make his position on language and deaf children known, and it has since become a model for deaf education worldwide: Teaching the deaf is less difficult than is commonly supposed. We merely have to introduce into their minds by way of the eye what has been introduced into our own by the ear. These two avenues are always open, each leading to the same point provided that we do not deviate to the right or left, whichever one we choose (de l’Epée 1784/1984:54).

De l’Epée’s claims about deaf children’s potential relied on an alternative mode to hearing: vision. He wanted to use a signed language to instruct deaf children. De l’Epée even warned that we should not “deviate to the right or left” in this endeavor. His position is consistent with our present understanding of language and language acquisition. Inspired by Chomsky’s observations (e.g. Chomsky 1965; 1981), many language acquisitionists hypothesize that children are predisposed to learn language. This “predisposition” takes the form of a set of guidelines that facilitate and direct language learning. Chomsky originally called this the language acquisition device (LAD). We recognize that both the

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term and the concepts associated with it have changed since the 1960s. However, because the point we are making here does not hinge on departures from Chomsky’s original observations, we use the term LAD and refer only generally to the idea that universal structural principles restrict possible variations in language. On this hypothesis, the child’s task is to discover which variations apply to the particular language he or she is acquiring. The LAD limits natural languages. That is, a natural language is one that is allowed by the guidelines encoded in the LAD (whatever they are). Another important consideration in examining the question of what makes a natural language is processing constraints. As Bever (1970) observed, every language must be processed perceptually. Further, a language’s processing must respect the limits of the mind’s processing capacities. Thus, for a system to be a natural language (i.e. acquired and processed by humans), it must meet several cognitive prerequisites. What is still not clear is whether modality plays a role in shaping language structure and language processes. Whatever position is taken on the modality question has direct ramifications on the feasibility of the language planning effort as described for the field of deaf education. De l’Epée acknowledged the relationship of cognition and language at least intuitively. Not only did he hold the position that a signed language is fitting for deaf children, but he was also convinced that it had the capacity of incorporating the structure of a spoken language effectively. He assumed that modality did not play a role in the structuring of a signed language. First, de l’Epée’s encounters with deaf children and their signing prior to the school’s founding provided him with the basis needed to make an effective argument for their educational potential. Second, this is where the idea was conceived of making the spoken language, French in his case, visible through the signed medium. De l’Epée then made a formal distinction between Natural Sign and Methodical Sign, reflecting his awareness of relevant structural differences. The former referred to signing by deaf children themselves and the latter to the sign system that he developed to model French. A more radical approach would have been to create a French-based sign system without reference to Natural Sign. In other words, de l’Epée could have invented a completely new system to sign French. Instead, he chose to adjust an existing sign system to the structure of French. That is, he made Methodical Sign by modifying Natural Sign. This language planning approach is consistent with Epée’s warning about the possibility of structural deviation leading to the breakdown of a linguistic system in the eyes of a deaf child. Pure invention would increase the likelihood of such an outcome. Even with these considerations, Methodical Sign did not produce positive results and failed to meet de l’Epée’s expectations. The problems plaguing Methodical Sign were serious enough for the third director of the school, Roche-Ambroise Bebian, to end its use with deaf students.

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Bebian is also credited with leading the movement to abandon Methodical Sign throughout France in the 1830s (Lane 1984b). Bebian (1817/1984:148) presented his argument: Signs were considered only in relation to French, and great efforts were made to bend them to that language. But as sign language is quite different from other languages, it had to be distorted to conform to French usage, and it was sometimes so disfigured as to become unintelligible.

At the time of Bebian’s writing, over 40 years had passed since the founding of de l’Epée’s school. The continued reference to Natural Sign indicates that it had persisted regardless of the adoption of Methodical Sign as a language of instruction. Despite de l’Epée’s use of Natural Sign to develop Methodical Sign, it appears that the latter was not learned well. Bebian’s insights on this are valuable. He identified the problem as one that concerned deaf children’s perceptual processing of the French-based sign system. The distortion affecting these children’s potential for successful language acquisition suggests serious problems associated with the structure of Methodical Sign (Bebian described it as “disfigured”). Bebian’s reference to the special nature of signed languages to account for de l’Epée’s failed efforts raises doubts that the structure of a spoken language can successfully map onto the signed medium. This alone represents a significant shift from de l’Epée’s position, and it is part of Bebian’s argument in favor of Natural Sign as a language of instruction over Methodical Sign. Unfortunately, Bebian was not completely successful in describing what went wrong with Methodical Sign. He did not elaborate on possible structural deficiencies of the French-based sign system. The basis for making the theoretical shift in the relationship of signed languages and spoken languages was thus lacking. With this historical background, we need to re-examine recent language planning efforts associated with deaf children and spoken languages. Methodical Sign cannot be further studied because it has ceased to exist. Its English descendants, on the other hand, provide us with the opportunity to examine several similar systems. We turn now to English-based sign systems. Next, we address deaf children’s learning patterns and their prospect for mastering English in the visual–gestural modality. 6.3

An evaluation of Manually Coded English

In the USA language planning efforts leading to the development of Englishbased sign systems were most active during the early 1970s when four systems were developed: r Seeing Essential English; r Signing Exact English;


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r Linguistics of Visual English; and r Signed English. Due to disagreement among the systems’ developers, each system constitutes a different representation of English (Woodward 1973). Yet, all the relevant language planners relied on certain aspects of ASL for the development of all English-based sign systems. We use the umbrella term “Manually Coded English” to refer to the four specific systems noted above. In order to understand the relationship between ASL and MCE, one English-based sign system is chosen for a closer examination below. The version we focus on has achieved nationwide recognition and use: Signing Exact English or SEE 2 (Stedt and Moores 1990). When these English-based sign systems were being planned, linguistic research on ASL was already underway (e.g. Stokoe 1960; Stokoe, Casterline, and Croneberg 1965). The developers of SEE 2, for example, acknowledged the linguistic status of ASL in the introduction of Signing Exact English (Gustason, Pfetzing, and Zawolkow 1980). Increasing recognition of ASL as a fullfledged human language has played a role in these language planning efforts. Nonetheless, the underlying motivation for the development of MCE remains the same: to provide deaf children access to spoken English as a target for their schooling. The idea of deaf children gaining native competence in English via the signed medium is tempting, especially with respect to the morphosyntactic level. Language planners expected deaf children to develop more effective literacy skills by drawing on their signed English knowledge. Systematic oneto-one correspondences between signed and written utterances are meant to serve as “bridges” to literacy development in English (Mayer and Wells 1996; Mayer and Akamatsu 1999). The structural problems with Methodical Sign revealed by the historical literature were apparently set aside. Lacking elaboration of what might have gone wrong with Methodical Sign, American language planners gave de l’Epée’s original idea another try. 6.3.1

Structural properties

Like their French antecedents, American language planners were careful about inventing sign equivalents to English. A vast number of ASL signs are incorporated into the SEE 2 vocabulary, with lexical differences between ASL and English marked by alterations in the handshape parameter in individual ASL signs (Lane 1980). For example, consider the English words way, road, and street. In ASL, these are signed identically. In SEE 2, their handshapes differ by incorporating the manual alphabet (W for way, R for road, and S for street) to distinguish them. The movement, location, and orientation parameters in most SEE 2 signs remain like their ASL antecedents. Because SEE 2 is meant to represent English, lexical variation in ASL is not similarly incorporated. For

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example, ASL has three distinct signs for three of the concepts behind the English word ‘right’ (i.e. correct, direction, and to ‘have a right’). SEE 2 borrows only one ASL sign and uses it for all three concepts. At the morphological level, ASL signs are also adopted. They serve as roots, to which invented prefixes and suffixes are added. These represent English inflections for tense, plurality, and so on. SEE 2 relies on both invented and borrowed signs to provide a one-to-one mapping for English pronouns, prepositions, and conjunctions. As a result, borrowing from ASL is primarily at the lexical level. Some function morphemes (i.e. free closed class elements) are also borrowed from ASL. All bound morphemes are invented. The invention of this class of morphemes is due to the fact that ASL does not have a productive set of prefixes and suffixes. We turn now to the formational principles that underlie SEE 2 prefixes and suffixes. Importantly, SEE 2’s planners attempted to create English versions of bound morphemes in the most natural way possible. If a form is to function as a linear affix, it is phonologically independent of the root. This does not mean that a linear affix will not influence the phonological properties of the root at some point. For example, the sound of the English plural is determined by the last consonant of the root: bats vs. bells vs. churches. We want to emphasize that some aspects of the form of the linear affix remain constant even though other aspects of its form may change. One approach was to create a linear affix with all four of the basic parameters in a full ASL sign (S. Supalla 1990). For example, the SEE 2 suffix -ING involves the handshape I (representing the initial letter of the suffix), a location in neutral signing space, outward rotation of the forearm, and a final orientation of the palm facing away from the signer’s body (see Figure 6.1a). Another example is the SEE 2 suffix -MENT, which involves two handshapes: the dominant one as M (representing the initial letter of the suffix) located on the palm of the other, a path movement across the palm surface, and an orientation of the dominant palm facing away from the signer’s body (see Figure 6.1b). The majority of SEE 2’s affixes are, like -ING and -MENT, complete with respect to full sign formational structure: 43 out of 49, or 88%. The remaining six affixes use only three of the four parameters; they omit movement (either internal or path). Figure 6.2 exemplifies one of these latter six affixes, the suffix -S for singular present tense verbs and plural nouns. Thus, most of the bound morphemes in SEE 2 are sign-like. Further, it seems that the invented nature of bound morphemes in MCE is not necessarily problematic. Analysis confirms that all sign-like affixes conform to how a sign should be formed in ASL (S. Supalla 1990). But is this enough? We consider now what constitutes a sign in ASL, or perhaps in any signed language. A word in any linguistic system is formed according to certain formational rules. These


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(a)

(b)

Figure 6.1a The SEE 2 sign -ING; 6.1b The SEE 2 sign -MENT

rules involve both the phonological and the morphological systems. Battison’s (1978) pioneering typological work indicates that an ASL sign has its own formational rules based on the physical dynamics of the body as manifested primarily in gestural articulation and visual perception. These constraints of production and perception on the formational aspects of signs have resulted in the development of a highly integrated linguistic system comparable to the phonological and morphological components of a spoken language. [T]wo [handshapes and locations] is the upper limit of complexity for the formation of signs. A simple sign can be specified for no more than two different locations (a sign may require moving from one location to another), and no more than two different handshapes (a sign may require that the handshape change during the sign). (Battison 1978:48)

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Figure 6.2

The SEE 2 sign -S

Battison also observed that the two handshapes in a sign must be phonologically related, with one changing into the other by opening or closing. For example, a straight, extended finger may bend or fully contract into the palm, or the contracted fingers may extend fully. Thus, these constraints on handshape formation not only limit the number of handshapes to two; they also require the handshapes to be related. Such sign formational properties presumably relate to complexity issues. If constraints like Battison’s prove to be true of all signed languages, then they might affect the learnability of any manually coded linguistic system, both ASL and SEE 2 alike. If, on the other hand, such constraints characterize only ASL (and other signed languages allow, for example, three handshapes or two unrelated handshapes in a sign), then such constraints are important only for some language planning efforts. General learnability would not be the issue. Thus, an important question to resolve before we can fully evaluate the learnability of MCE systems is the generalizability of constraints like the ones that Battison described. At this point, the strong relationship between SEE 2 and ASL needs to be summarized. Not only is a large inventory of signs borrowed from ASL to form the free morphemes in SEE 2, but most of the bound morphemes were created based on how signs are formed in ASL. It is not a question of whether individual linear affixes are formed appropriately. We focus instead on how these elements are combined with a root. More specifically, the adoption of linear affixation as a morphological process in MCE may exceed the formational constraints for signs in ASL. In contrast, nonlinear affixation is consistent with such constraints and leads to the desired outcome of successful acquisition by deaf children


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(for a review on linear and nonlinear affixation types occurring in ASL and spoken languages, see S. Supalla 1990). The following discussion covers this particular morphological process in ASL and how it differs from the linear type. 6.3.2

Nonlinear affixation

The handshape and location constraints discussed thus far are based on monomorphemic signs. The extension of such constraints to multi-morphemic signs allows for the examination of potential learning problems with MCE morphology. Mono-morphemic signs in ASL (e.g. IMPROVE) are consistent with Battison’s formational constraints. For example, the citation form of IMPROVE involves the B handshape with the palm facing toward the signer’s body, and an arc movement produced from one location to another on the signer’s other arm. There is one handshape and two locations on the arm (see Figure 6.3a). To inflect IMPROVE for continuative aspect, its citation form undergoes processes of deletion, replacement, and reduplication. According to Klima and Bellugi (1979), one of the two locations on the arm is deleted, then the arc movement is replaced with a circular movement, and finally, the circular movement is reduplicated (see Figure 6.3b). For the noun derived from IMPROVE, the movement differs. The manner of the noun’s movement is restrained, whereas there is no restrained manner in the inflected verb. As a result of the restrained manner, the noun’s circular movement is smaller and accelerated (see Figure 6.3c). T. Supalla and Newport (1978) argued that the non-inflected verb, inflected verb, and noun forms shown in Figure 6.3 are derived from a common underlying representation. At an intermediate level in the derivation, the noun and verb forms are distinguished in terms of manner and movement. The inflected verb is derived from the intermediate level through necessary morphophonological changes including reduplication. After the derivational process, the signer can perceive the distinction between nouns and verbs at the surface level. The learnability of both inflectional and derivational morphology in ASL is confirmed through a number of acquisition studies. According to Newport and Meier’s (1985) review, deaf children are able to produce mono-morphemic signs before they acquire ASL sentence morphology. The latter “begins at roughly [18–36 months of age] and, for the most complex morphological subsystems, continues well beyond age 5 [years]” (p.896). The complexity of the derivational subsystem (i.e. involving noun and verb distinctions) may result in a later age for production as reported in Launer (1982). However, ASL’s morphological complexity does not stop children from acquiring the language; nor does the learning process deviate from what is expected for any morphologically complex language.

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(a)

(b)

(c)

Figure 6.3 Three forms of the ASL sign IMPROVE: 6.3a the citation form; 6.3b the form inflected for continuative aspect; and 6.3c a derived noun

Inflectional and derivational morphology of SEE 2 also involve changes to the root. But these changes are linear or sequential. Inflectional and derivational processes in ASL are nonlinear, or more overlapping. Recall the forms of IMPROVE discussed earlier. Under inflection for the continuative, the handshape parameter of the sign remains the same as in the citation form (i.e. single handshape incorporating four extended fingers; see Figure 6.3). The number of


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locations is reduced from two to one. The SEE 2 examples undergoing morphological change through linear affixation, on the other hand, had completely different outcomes. 6.3.3

Linear affixation

Again using the example of IMPROVE, SEE 2 has its own morphological processes for marking present progressive tense. The SEE 2 equivalent of improving is multi-morphemic. The verb IMPROVE (borrowed from ASL) serves as the root. As in ASL, its citation form uses the B handshape with the palm facing toward the signer’s body and an arc movement from one location to another on the signer’s arm. The affix -ING is then produced after IMPROVE (see Figure 6.4a). Similar sequencing of roots and affixes occurs in noun derivation (i.e. adding the suffix -MENT to IMPROVE to create the noun IMPROVEMENT; see Figure 6.4b). In both verb inflection and noun derivation, the SEE 2 suffixes retain their phonological independence by having their own handshape, location, movement,

(a)

(b)

Figure 6.4 The SEE 2 signs: 6.4a: IMPROVING; 6.4b IMPROVEMENT

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and orientation. The handshape for IMPROVE is B, which is distinct from the I and M of -ING and -MENT, respectively. The location of IMPROVE is on the arm, whereas -ING and -MENT are signed in neutral space. The movement is path/arc for IMPROVE while the movement for -MENT is path/straight, and the movement for -ING is internal with no path at all. Finally, the orientation of the IMPROVE handshape is tilted with the ulnar side of the hand facing downward. In contrast, the orientation for both -ING and -MENT is upright with the palm facing away from the signer. Taken together, it can be seen that affixes developed for SEE 2 are phonologically distinct, across four parameters, from the roots that they are sequenced with. Another important point to consider are the cases where the handshape and location constraints are exceeded with the multi-morphemic signs in SEE 2. In IMPROVING, the B and I handshapes are both “open,” and there is no relationship between them. IMPROVEMENT also has two handshapes. Again, there is no relationship between them; they are formationally distinct (i.e. four extended fingers for the first handshape and three bent fingers for the second handshape). If there were a relationship between the two handshapes (as Battison maintained for ASL), the two handshapes should be formationally consistent (e.g. extended four fingers to bent four fingers). In the case of IMPROVES (including the SEE 2 affix that omits movement, as shown in Figure 6.2), this linearly affixed sign meets both handshape number and handshape relationship constraints; that is, the B and S handshapes are related (“open” and “closed”; four extended fingers fully contract into the palm). But IMPROVES has three locations. It exceeds the location number constraint. In this example, the first two locations are made on the arm, and the last location is made in neutral signing space. IMPROVING and IMPROVEMENT also exceed the two-location limit, in addition to failing the handshape constraints. We turn now to consider assimilation, a phonological operation that occurs in natural languages, signed and spoken alike. Another example from SEE 2 shows what happens when the two morphological units in KNOWING are combined. Figure 6.5a shows the combination prior to assimilation and Figure 6.5b after assimilation. The ASL counterpart can be seen in a lexical compound. For example, the two signs FACE + STRONG (meaning ‘resemble’) show how a SEE 2 root might “blend” with the sign-like linear affix. According to Liddell and Johnson (1986), lexical compounds in ASL undergo phonological restructuring and realignment. The comparable change in the form of KNOWING involves the removal of KNOW’s reduplication and the reversal of its handshape’s orientation (i.e. from palm facing toward the signer to away from the signer). A path movement is created between KNOW and -ING, whereas it is absent in the non-assimilated form. Assimilation cuts the production time of the non-assimilated form in half. The assimilated version of KNOWING is comparable in production time to


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(a)

(b)

Figure 6.5 The SEE 2 sign KNOWING: 6.5a prior to assimilation and 6.5b after assimilation

the average single sign in ASL (S. Supalla 1990). Nevertheless, this form still violates ASL handshape constraints in terms of number and relationship. The two handshapes used in this inflected MCE sign are not related (i.e. B and I are both open and comparable to those of the earlier example, IMPROVING). Had the suffix’s handshape (i.e. I) been removed to meet the handshape number constraint (i.e. using B from KNOW only), the phonological independence of the suffix would be lost. This particular combination of KNOW and -ING would be overtly blended. The fully assimilated versions of KNOWING and KNOWS would appear identical and noncontrastive, for example (S. Supalla 1990). As shown by the examples discussed here, the combination of a root and bound morpheme (sign-like and less-than-sign; non-assimilated and assimilated) in SEE 2 can produce at least three scenarios: r The combination may exceed the location number constraint. r The combination may exceed the handshape number constraint. r While meeting the handshape number constraint, the combination of two unrelated handshapes may result in a violation of the handshape relationship constraint.

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Not included here is the combination of two or possibly all three constraint violation types. According to our analyses, MCE morphology does not meet the constraints on sign structure. 6.3.4

MCE acquisition

Here we ask whether bound MCE morphemes are acquired like their counterparts in spoken English. According to Brown (1973), hearing children master 14 grammatical morphemes in English at different points in time. Some of these are consistently produced before others. Brown also found that the morphemes that are less phonologically distinct and more often assimilated in form (e.g. the possessive marker -’s) are typically produced later. Slobin (1977) attributed such delay to a lack of perceptual salience. He argued that the degree of salience predicts the order in which these morphemes emerge in hearing children. The more perceptually salient a bound morpheme is, the earlier it is produced. More recent work challenges several aspects of these earlier claims (e.g. Gerken, Landau, and Remez, 1990; McKee, 1994), but we will refer to them anyway because they are familiar to most people. Following Brown and Slobin, a number of investigators have studied the acquisition of these same 14 morphemes in MCE. Gilman and Raffin (1975; Raffin 1976) found several differences in the sequence of deaf children’s acquisition of bound morphemes as compared to their hearing counterparts. The overall timing of acquisition for MCE function morphemes is late. Both Schlesinger (1978) and Meadow (1981) reached similar conclusions. These two investigators account for their late acquisition by suggesting that they are slurred and indistinct to children. Perhaps the forms of MCE function morphemes are less perceptually salient to deaf children than their spoken counterparts are to hearing children. In contrast, Maxwell (1983; 1987) argued that the MCE morphemes are too salient. This investigator pointed out that deaf children’s developmental patterns with MCE morphology are not just delayed, but the patterns are actually anomalous. The children in her research treated MCE bound morphemes as if they were free morphemes, occasionally with no potential root form nearby. In other words, they were placed randomly in a sentence. The examples in (1) illustrate this error with -ING. (1)

a. SANTA-CLAUS COME TO TOWN ING. b. WRITE THAT NAME ING THERE. (Maxwell 1987:331)

Swisher (1991:127) observed similar patterns: “[The deaf] child signed rapid and often unintelligible messages, sprinkled with extra -s’s and -ing’s, which were very difficult to follow.” This pattern of MCE affixes (i.e. sign-like and those less-than-signs) being treated as free morphemes is also found in a study


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by Gaustad (1986). Importantly, such random placement of affixes is something that hearing children acquiring spoken English do not do. Instead, the more typical error is omission. Later in the acquisition of MCE morphology, when deaf children have figured out that these signs are not free morphemes, a different pattern appears. Even when deaf children understand that each bound morpheme should be affixed to a root, they still misuse these morphemes. Bornstein, Saulnier, and Hamilton (1980) found that deaf children used only four of the 14 markers. These four were produced inconsistently, and appeared only 39% of the times that they should have been used. Wodlinger-Cohen (1991) compared hearing and deaf children and drew similar conclusions. Although omission errors did occur with hearing children learning spoken English, they did so only at an early age. As hearing children grew older, they produced the relevant morphemes more often and more consistently. For deaf children learning MCE, omission errors were not outgrown. These children may know the rules behind individual bound morphemes, but their production does not systematically reveal that knowledge. The affixes developed for MCE appear to be difficult to produce as compared to the spoken counterparts. 6.4

Discussion and conclusions

We return to the production of MCE morphology later. We focus now on MCE acquisition. Evidence from various studies indicates that deaf children experience serious difficulty in learning MCE bound morphology. Some explanation for this state of affairs is clearly needed. Accounts based on perceptual salience have produced two extremes: the forms of MCE bound morphemes are too salient, or not sufficiently salient. Our analyses show that MCE affixes vary in perceptual salience. For example, the sign-like affixes (e.g. -ING) are more salient than those less like signs (e.g. -S). The MCE acquisition studies indicate that both types suffer similar consequences. That is, misanalysis of the MCE bound morphemes as free morphemes occurs, and this impairs deaf children’s acquisition of English. The extension of structural constraints of mono-morphemic to multimorphemic signs also bears on the learning problems of MCE morphology. Recall how Battison (1978) described the sign structure in ASL. No application to MCE morphology was made, but we now want to emphasize this. Our discussion on the possible violation of structural constraints with linearly affixed signs in MCE has significant implications. A linear affix combined with a root results in one (or possibly a combination) of three structural constraint violation types. As a result, the linear affix places itself outside the sign boundaries. For this reason, deaf children do not perceive it as part of the root.

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We acknowledge that deaf children do eventually learn some rules of MCE bound morphemes, albeit through “back-door” techniques. We give credit to explicit instruction and exposure to print English that make these children aware of the function of the MCE bound morphemes. These affixes are clearly part of the word when written (e.g. no spacing between the root and affix), and teachers of the deaf engage heavily in teaching the rules of English grammar (for review of methods of teaching English to deaf students, see McAnally, Rose, and Quigley 1987). In this light, deaf children do not necessarily learn English through MCE alone. These children are influenced by what they have learned from other sources. However, at the subconscious level they experience cognitive breakdown when the MCE bound morphemes are not consistent with how words are formed in the visual–gestural modality. They may tell themselves that the linear affixes are “part of the root” when they sign MCE morphology. Yet their mental grammars continue to treat the linear affixes as separate from the root. This explains why omission plagues the production of MCE morphology, especially with affixes. We must ask ourselves whether the structure of MCE morphology can be changed to improve its perception and production. Swisher (1991) pointed out that the morphology of SEE 2 and other English-based sign systems needs to undergo the process of assimilation that occurs in natural languages (spoken or signed). The findings that she reported on MCE use among hearing parents with deaf children indicate that assimilation of linearly affixed signs is frequently lacking. The earlier mentioned reduction in time (by half) required for the production of linearly affixed signs undergoing assimilation is also a welcome insight. We need to consider the previous studies on the time required to produce a sentence, for example, in SEE 2. A sign, due to its larger physical articulation, requires twice the length of time to produce than a word (Bellugi and Fischer 1972; Grosjean 1977); however, the proposition rate involved in producing a sentence is found to be equivalent in both ASL and spoken English. The SEE 2 sentence, on the other hand, takes nearly twice as long to accomplish (Klima and Bellugi 1979). The reliance on nonlinear affixation in ASL is seen as an effective compensation for the lengthy production of individual signs. The impression here is that if MCE were “quicker” in production, then deaf children would learn the structure involved more effectively. This is questionable. We propose that even if temporal constraints for effective processing were met via assimilation, MCE morphology would remain problematic for deaf children. Supporting this position, S. Supalla (1990) developed an experimental design to facilitate assimilation within linearly affixed signs based on how compounds are formed in ASL. Two groups of subjects proficient in ASL and MCE were asked to count the number of signs they viewed. The signs were derived from New Zealand Sign Language (NZSL), a language unfamiliar to


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the subjects. The results of this study suggest that perceptual distortion persisted for MCE morphology. Undergoing assimilation, linearly affixed signs exceeded sign boundaries and were perceived as two signs, not one. Nonlinearly affixed signs, modeled on ASL, were consistently perceived as one sign. This sign-counting task was also performed by a group of novice signers, all sharing the same perceptual biases in regard to where a sign begins and ends. Interestingly, the novice signers shared the same perceptual knowledge that accounted for the sign-counting of those having extensive signing experience (via ASL or MCE). Further, S. Supalla’s (1990) use of NZSL as the foreign language stimulus holds ramifications for understanding the relationship of signed and spoken languages. Individual NZSL signs were selected to function as roots and others as linear affixes. They underwent assimilation upon combination. The subjects in the study did not know the original meanings of the NZSL signs or the fact that they were all originally free morphemes. The subjects (even those who had no signing experience) were able to recognize the formational patterns within the linearly affixed signs and to identify the sign boundaries splitting the linearly affixed signs into two full words, not one word. Such behavior is comparable to deaf children who are exposed to SEE 2 and other English-based sign systems. Note that NZSL and ASL are two unrelated signed languages, yet they appear to share the same formational constraints of signs. A critical implication of these findings is that deaf children may have perceptual strategies (as found among adults) that they apply in their word-level segmentation of MCE morphology. More specifically, these children may be able to identify signs in a stream based on the structural constraints as described, but they cannot perceive linear affixes as morphologically related to roots. Linear affixes rather stand by themselves and are wrongly perceived as “full words.” This is an example of how a language’s modality may shape its structure, which in turn relates to its learnability. For adult models using MCE, the combination of a linear affix to a root, assimilated or not, seems to result in the production of a too-complex sign which affects the potential naturalness of MCE morphology. The notion of modality-specific constraints for the structure of signed languages is not new. Newport and T. Supalla (2000), for example, reviewed the issues and highlighted T. Supalla and Webb’s (1995) study of the morphological devices in 15 different signed languages. The explanation for the striking similarity of morphology in these languages lies in nonlinguistic resources. That is, space and motion were described as what “propels sign languages more commonly toward one or a few of the several ways in which linguistic systems may be formed” (Newport and T. Supalla 2000:112). Recall the earlier discussion on how inflectional and derivational processes in ASL employ changes in sign-internal movement and location (e.g. IMPROVE). These processes can

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be described in terms of space and motion, thus attributing at least part of how ASL works as a language to nonlinguistic shaping. However, if we look beyond the use of motion and space so characteristic of ASL (and possibly other natural signed languages, as T. Supalla and Webb proposed), we find the linguistic constraints that shape individual signs or words within the visual– gestural modality. The arbitrary rules involving the number of locations and handshapes determine possible signs. The sign formational constraints, in turn, predict which morphological operations should take place. In this case, we can use a linguistic explanation for why natural signed languages are structured as they are. A linguistic explanation is also needed for why deaf children are driven to innovate ASL-like forms, especially those who have had MCE exposure for most of their childhood (Suty and Friel-Patti 1982; Livingston 1983; Goodhart 1984; Gee and Goodhart 1985; S. Supalla 1991). S. Supalla (1991) covers those exposed to SEE 2 specifically. Re-analysis of the data indicates that children changed the MCE to include nonlinear affixation. In such restructuring, the language form is affected by what children bring to the learning process. This behavior is not surprising from the nativization framework proposed by Andersen (1983, cited in Gee and Mounty 1991). This framework reflects Chomsky’s LAD, i.e. the idea that the human biological capacity for language represents a set of internal norms. If the input for language development is inaccessible, children will construct grammars on the basis of their internal norms. Gee and Mounty (1991) suggest that deaf children may have found MCE deviant from the internal norms specific to signed languages. This would “trigger” these children into replacing the MCE grammar with an acceptable one. Although no internal norms were specified, it supports the idea that structural constraints specific to signed languages may exist and may explain the outcome of MCE acquisition. The consideration for the two morphological processes (linear vs. nonlinear) in this chapter offers insight on how one (and not the other) may be more suitable for the signed medium as opposed to both being suitable for the spoken form. The theory emerging from discussion of language structure and modality contrasts with the assumptions underlying language planning efforts in the USA and elsewhere. Both French and American language planners had a different theoretical basis when they made Methodical Sign and MCE, respectively. They apparently thought that if linear affixation occurs in spoken languages, it would not create any problems in the signed medium. The reliance on nonlinear affixation as found in ASL would be considered simply language-specific (much as one would say about certain spoken languages of the world; e.g. Semitic languages and their reliance on nonlinear affixation as a morphological process). Such reasoning underscores the language planning efforts in creating a viable sign system modeling the structure of a spoken language.


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In any case, the viability of a linguistic system is best determined by its naturalness. Understanding how deaf children cope with MCE has produced provocative findings ranging from the failure to learn and produce bound morphemes to changes in the form and structure of MCE morphology. There is a demonstrated incompatibility between a non-natural language system and the cognitive biases of deaf children. Continued investigation of the interaction between modality and language is essential. Such a framework is helpful when we attempt to evaluate MCE and its role in the language development of deaf children. Validating sign formational constraints affecting the morphological operations would allow for the development of a more beneficial theory of the linguistic needs of deaf children. As part of defining our future directions, we need to consider literacy issues and deaf children. Recall that MCE was supposed to help with the development of reading and writing skills. The mapping of spoken language to the signed medium is an age-old goal for educators who work with deaf children. These educators have long recognized the difficulties that deaf children experience in mastering even rudimentary literacy skills. Frustration on the part of the educator of the deaf and of the deaf child is so great that a wide range of desperate measures have been developed and implemented over the years. These include the revival of the modern language planning effort surrounding MCE. We are not surprised at these outcomes, and must now pay attention to the fact that hearing children enjoy the added benefit of sound support in learning how to read effectively (i.e. via phonetic skills). The sound support serves as a transition from spoken English to learning how to read in the print form (for review of the disparities in literacy development tools between hearing and deaf children, see LaSasso and Metzger 1998). What we need to devise is a new research plan asking questions about how ASL can serve as a tool to teach reading and writing to deaf children. This is exactly what our research team has done in recent years with the development of theoretically sound, ASL-based literacy tools (e.g. involving the use of an ASL alphabet, a special resource book, and glossing). These tools are designed to provide deaf children with opportunities to simultaneously develop literacy skills in the signed language and make the transition to print English as a second language (for review of ASL-supported English learning, see S. Supalla, Wix, and McKee 2001). The literacy program as described forms an effective alternative to the sound support that underlies the education of hearing children, especially in their reading development. Such educational innovations provide a path not taken in the past. Developing a successful literacy program for deaf children requires that we ask how signed languages differ from spoken languages. This is key to positive outcomes concerning the welfare of deaf children. With new understanding of internal factors, the structure of a sign system modeled on English now

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commands our full attention. The consideration of how a signed language is perceived and produced is crucial for the assessment of the effectiveness of MCE. The cognitive prerequisites involved underlie the structure of natural languages of the world. If the signed medium is the preferred mode of communication for deaf children, we must identify its language structure. Once we are clear on how ASL operates as a language, we can begin to pave the way for the long-awaited literacy development of deaf children. 6.5

References

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and learnability, eds. Barbara Lust, Margarita Suñer, and John Whitman, 101–133. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Meadow, Kathryn P. 1981. Deafness and child development. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Meier, Richard P. 1991. Language acquisition by deaf children. American Scientist 79:60–70. Newport, Elissa and Richard P. Meier. 1985. The acquisition of American Sign Language. In The cross-linguistic study of language acquisition, ed. Dan Slobin, 881–938. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Newport, Elissa P. and Ted Supalla. 2000. Sign language research at the millennium. In The signs of language revisited, eds. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 103–114. Mahweh, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Raffin, Michael. 1976. The acquisition of inflectional morphemes by deaf children using Seeing Essential English. Doctoral dissertation, University of Iowa. Ramsey, Claire. 1989. Language planning in deaf education. In The sociolinguistics of the deaf community, ed. Ceil Lucas, 123–146. San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Schein, Jerome D. 1984. Speaking the language of sign. New York: Doubleday. Schlesinger, I. M. 1978. The acquisition of bimodal language. In Sign language of the deaf: Psychological, linguistic, and social perspectives, eds. I. M. Schlesinger and Lila Namir, 57–93. New York: Academic Press. Slobin, Dan. 1977. Language change in childhood and in history. In Language learning and thought, ed. John Macnamara, 185–214. New York: Academic Press. Stedt, Joe D. and Donald F. Moores. 1990. Manual codes in English and American Sign Language: Historical perspectives and current realities. In Manual communication, ed. Harry Bornstein, 1–20. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Stokoe, William C. 1960. Sign language structure: An outline of the visual communication systems of the American deaf. Studies in Linguistics, Occasional Papers 8. Silver Springs, MD: Linstok Press. Stokoe, William C., Dorothy C. Casterline and Carl G. Croneberg. 1965. A dictionary of American Sign Language. Washington, DC: Gallaudet College Press. Supalla, Samuel J. 1990. Segmentation of Manually Coded English: Problems in the mapping of English in the visual/gestural mode. Doctoral dissertation, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Supalla, Samuel J. 1991. Manually Coded English: The modality question in signed language development. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 2: Psychology, eds. Patricia Siple and Susan Fischer, 85–109. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Supalla, Samuel J., Tina Wix, and Cecile McKee. 2001. Print as a primary source of English for deaf learners. In One mind, two languages: Bilingual language processing, ed. Janet L. Nicol, 177–190. Malden, MA: Blackwell. Supalla, Ted and Elissa Newport. 1978. How many seats in a chair? The derivation of nouns and verbs in American Sign Language. In Understanding language through sign language research, ed. Patricia Siple, 91–132. New York: Academic Press. Supalla, Ted, and Rebecca Webb. 1995. The grammar of International Sign: A new look at pidgin languages. In Language, gesture, and space, eds. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 333–352. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Suty, Karen A. and Sandy Friel-Patti. 1982. Looking beyond signed English to describe the language of two deaf children. Sign Language Studies 35:153–166.


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Part II

Gesture and iconicity in sign and speech

The term “gesture” is used to denote various human actions. This is even true among linguists and psychologists, who for the past two decades or more have highlighted the importance of gestures of various sorts and their significant role in language production and reception. Some writers have defined gestures as the movements of the hands and arms that accompany speech. Others refer to the articulatory movements of speech as vocal gestures and those of signed languages as manual gestures. For those who work in signed languages, the term nonmanual gesture usually refers to facial expressions, head and torso movements, and eye gaze, all of which are vital parts of signed messages. In the study of child language acquisition, some authors have referred to an infant’s reaches, points, and waves as prelinguistic gesture. In Part II we introduce two works that highlight the importance of the study of gesture and one that addresses iconicity (a closely related topic). We also briefly summarize some of the various ways in which gesture has been defined and investigated over the last decade. A few pages of introductory text are not enough to review all the issues that have arisen – especially within the last few years – concerning gesture and iconicity and their role in language, but this introduction is intended to give the reader an idea of the breadth and complexity of these topics. Some authors claim that gesture is not only an important part of language as it is used today, but that formal language in humans began as gestural communication (Armstrong, Stokoe, and Wilcox 1995; Stokoe and Marschark 1999; Stokoe 2000). According to Armstrong et al., gestures1 were likely used for communication by the first groups of humans that lived in social groups. Furthermore, they argue that visible gesture can exhibit both word and syntax at the same time. They also point out that visible gestures can be iconic, that is, a gesture can resemble its referent in some way, and visual iconicity can work as a bridge to help the perceiver understand the meaning of a gesture. Not only 1

Armstrong et al. (1995:38) provide the following general definition of gesture: “Gesture can be understood as neuromuscular activity (bodily actions, whether or not communicative); as semiotic (ranging from spontaneously communicative gestures to more conventional gestures); and as linguistic (fully conventionalized signs and vocal articulations).”

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do these authors claim that language began in the form of visible gestures, but that visible gestures continue to play a significant role in language production. This viewpoint is best illustrated with a quote from Armstrong et al. (1995:42): “For us, the answer to the question, ‘If language began as gesture, why did it not stay that way?’ is that it did.” One of the earliest systematic records of gesture is a description of its use in a nineteenth-century Italian city. In an English translation of a book published in Naples in 1832, the work of Andrea de Jorio – one of the first authors to write about gesture from an anthropological perspective – is revived. De Jorio compared gestures used in everyday life in Naples in the early nineteenth century to those gestures that are depicted on works of art from centuries past – with particular attention to the complexity of some gestures. In one example, de Jorio describes a gesture used to protect against evil spirits. The same gesture, according to de Jorio, can also be directed toward a person, and it is referred to as the “evil eye” in this instance. Interestingly, the form of this nineteenthcentury gesture greatly resembles the current American Sign Language (ASL) sign glossed as MOCK. Given the historical connection between ASL and French Sign Language (Langue de Signes Française or LSF), perhaps there is also a more remote connection between the Neopolitan gesture and the ASL sign. It appears that de Jorio (2000) might allow us to explore some possible antecedents of current signed language lexicons. Along those lines, some authors have analyzed the manner in which contemporary gestures can evolve into the signs of a signed language. Morford and Kegl (2000) describe how in Nicaragua over the last two decades conventional gestures have been adopted by deaf and hearing individuals for use in homesign communication, and then such gestures have become lexicalized as a result of interaction between homesigners. Some of these forms have then gone on to become signs of Idioma de Señas de Nicaragua (Nicaraguan Sign Language) as evidenced by the fact that they now accept the bound morphology of that language. Not only has the phylogenetic importance of gestures been asserted in the literature, but their role in child development has been the focus of much research (for an overview, see Iverson and Goldin-Meadow 1998). According to Goldin-Meadow and Morford (1994), both hearing and deaf infants use single gestures and two-gesture strings as they develop. Gesture for these authors is defined as an act that must be directed to another individual (i.e. it must be communicative) and an act that must not be a direct manipulation of some relevant person or object (i.e. it must not serve any function other than communication). In addition to the importance of gesture for the phylogenetic and ontogenetic development of language, some writers claim that gesture is an integral component of spoken language in everyday settings (McNeill 1992; Iverson and Goldin-Meadow 1998). Gesture (or gesticulation, as McNeill refers to it) used


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in this sense refers to the movements of the hands and arms that accompany speech. According to McNeill (1992:1), analysis of gestures helps to understand the processes of language. Just as binocular vision brings out a new dimension of seeing, gesture reveals a new dimension of the mind. This dimension is the imagery of language which has lain hidden. We discover that language is not just a linear progression of segments, sounds, and words, but is also instantaneous, nonlinear, holistic, and imagistic. The imagistic component co-exists with the linear-segmented speech stream and the coordination of the two gives us fresh insights into the processes of speech and thought.

Gesticulation, however, differs from the use of gesture without speech. Singleton et al. (1995:308) claim that gesture without speech (or nonverbal gesture) exhibits language-like properties and can represent meaning on its own, whereas gesticulation is much more dependent on the accompanying speech for representing meaning and is not “an independent representational form.” One of the most compelling reasons to study gesture is that it is a robust phenomenon that occurs in human communication throughout the world, among different languages and cultures (McNeill 1992; Iverson and Goldin Meadow 1998). Gesture is even found in places where one would not expect to find it. For example, gesture is exhibited by congenitally blind children as they speak, despite the lack of visual input from language users in their environment (Iverson and Goldin-Meadow 1997; Iverson et al. 2000) and gesture can be used in cases when speech is not possible (Iverson and Goldin-Meadow 1998). While the visible gesture that has been described thus far can be distinguished from speech because of the different modalities (gestural vs. oral) in which production occurs, the same type of gesturing in signed languages is far more difficult to identify. If, for the sake of argument, we posit that gestures are paralinguistic elements that alternate with formal linguistic units (morphemes, words), how does one go about defining what is gestural and what is linguistic (or morphemic) in signed languages where both types of communication involve the same articulators? Early in the study of ASL, Klima and Bellugi (1979:15) described how ASL comprises not only signs and strings of signs with certain formational properties, but also what they termed “extrasystemic gesturing.” On their view, ASL – and presumably other signed languages as well – utilize “a wide range of gestural devices, from conventionalized signs to mimetic elaboration on those signs, to mimetic depiction, to free pantomime” (p.13). Not only are all these devices used in the production of ASL, but signers also go back and forth between them and lexical signs regularly; at times with no obvious signal that a switch is being made. A question that has long animated the field is the extent to which these devices are properly viewed as linguistic or as gestural (for contrasting views on this question, see Supalla 1982; Supalla 1986; and Emmorey, in press).

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There are, of course, ways that sign linguists have proposed to differentiate gesture from linguistic elements of a signed language. Klima and Bellugi (1979:18–19) claimed that pantomime (presumably a type of gesture) differs from ASL signs in various respects: r Each pantomime includes a number of thematic images whereas regular ASL signs have only one. r Pantomimes are much longer and more varied in duration than ASL signs. r Sign formation requires brief temporal holding of the sign handshape before initiating movement of the sign, whereas pantomime production does not require these holds and movement is much more continuous. r Pantomime production is temporally longer than a semantically equivalent sign production. r Handshapes are much freer in pantomime production than in sign production. r Pantomime often involves hand and arm movements that are not seen (allowed) in sign production. r Pantomime includes head and body movement while only the hands move in sign production. r The role of eye gaze seems to differ in pantomime production as opposed to sign production. In addition to manual gesturing with the hands and arms, a signer or speaker can gesture nonmanually, with facial expressions, head movement, and/or body postures (Emmorey 1999). It has been suggested that a signer can produce a linguistic sign (or part of a linguistic sign) with one articulator and a gesture with another articulator (Liddell and Metzger 1998; Emmorey 1999). This is possible in signed language, of course, because manual and nonmanual articulations can take place simultaneously. In this volume, Okrent (Chapter 7) discusses gesture in both spoken and signed languages. She suggests that gesture and language can be produced simultaneously in both modalities. Okrent argues that we need to re-analyze what gesture means in relationship to language and to re-evaluate where we are allowing ourselves to find gesture. A critical component of analyzing gesture is the classification of different types; to that end Okrent describes the kinds of gestures that signers and speakers regularly produce. She explains to the reader that some gestures are used often by many speakers/signers and denote specific meanings; these gestures are “emblems.”2 Other gestures co-occur with speech and are called speech synchronized gestures (see McNeill 1992); a specific class of those is “iconics.” Okrent then tackles the meaning of the term “morpheme,” and she explains how classification of a form as morphemic or not is often the 2

Emblems, according to McNeill (1992), have also been described by Efron 1941; Ekman and Friesen 1969; Morris et al. 1979; Kendon 1981.


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criterion used to determine what is gestural and what is linguistic. Finally, as a way to classify what is gesture and what is linguistic, Okrent offers three criteria. They include classification of any given form along three continua: r degree of conventionalization of a form; r site of conventionalization; and r restriction on combination of a gesture with a linguistic form. In the present volume, Janzen and Shaffer (Chapter 8) trace the development in ASL of certain grammatical morphemes (specifically, modals) from nonlinguistic gestures, both manual and nonmanual. They do this by analyzing data from ASL as it was used in the early decades of the twentieth century as well as data from French Sign Language (LSF) and Old French Signed Language (OFSL), which were influential in the development of ASL. Some of the forms that the authors discuss began as nonlinguistic gestures of the face and hands and evolved into lexical items before becoming grammatical modals. However, Janzen and Shaffer also propose that nonmanual gestures can develop into grammatical elements (specifically, topic markers) without passing through a lexical stage. They suggest that this grammaticalization pathway is unique to signed language. They conclude that, for ASL, gesture plays the important role of providing the substrate from which grammar ultimately emerges. The types of “pantomime” production that Klima and Bellugi wrote of in 1979 were distinguishable from lexical signs in various ways (as described above), but they made no mention of the simultaneous production of signs and gestures. Essentially, such pantomimic forms were thought to occur in the signing stream separate from lexical signs (for descriptions of these types of gesture patterns, see Marschark 1994; Emmorey 1999). That is, any given movement could be either gestural or linguistic, but normally not both. Since that time, other writers (Liddell and Metzger 1998; Liddell 2000) have added another level of complexity to the analysis: what if a single sign or movement can have both gestural and linguistic components? In such cases, there may be no easy way to distinguish phonetically between gestural and linguistic (morphemic) elements. On Liddell’s view, a sign that uses the signing space for indicating subject and object has a linguistic component (the formational and semantic properties of the verb) and also a gestural component (the location to which it is pointing). The claim is that in deictic signs signers gesture and provide lexical information simultaneously (Liddell and Metzger 1998; Liddell 2000). The discussion initiated by Klima and Bellugi (1979) of the similarities (and subtle differences) between signs and the kinds of gestures that they called pantomime points to a very obvious characteristic of signed languages: the degree of iconicity in signed languages is impressive. Klima and Bellugi loosely

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referred to iconic signs as those lexical items whose form resembles some aspect of what they denote. As an example, onomatopoetic words in spoken languages such as buzz and ping-pong are iconic, but such words tend to be few in spoken languages. That, however, is not the case for signed languages. In the signed languages studied thus far, large percentages of signs are related to visual characteristics of their referents. Of course, these correspondences do not necessarily determine the exact form of a sign. For example, Klima and Bellugi described the sign TREE as it is produced in ASL, Danish Sign Language, and Chinese Sign Language. Each of the three signs is related, in some way, to the visual characteristics of a tree. Yet, the three signs differ substantially from each other, and those differences can be described in terms of differences in handshape, place of articulation, and movement. It is important, however, to note that iconicity is not present in all signs, especially those that refer to abstract concepts that are not identifiable with concrete objects. In this volume, Guerra Currie, Meier, and Walters (Chapter 9) suggest that iconicity is one of the factors accounting for the relatively high degree of judged similarity between signed language lexicons. Another related factor is the incorporation – into signed languages – of gestures that may be shared by the larger ambient hearing cultures that surround signed languages.3 In order to examine the degree of similarity between several signed language vocabularies, Guerra Currie et al. analyze lexical data from four different languages: Spanish Sign Language (LSE), Mexican Sign Language (LSM), French Sign Language (LSF), and Japanese Sign Language (Nihon Syuwa or NS). After conducting pair-wise comparisons of samples drawn from the lexicons of these four languages, Guerra Currie et al. suggest that signed languages exhibit higher degrees of lexical similarity to each other than spoken languages do, likely as a result of the relatively high degree of iconicity present in signed languages. It is not surprising that this claim is made for those signed languages that have historical ties, but it is interesting that it also applies to comparisons of unrelated signed languages between which no known contact has occurred and which are embedded in hearing cultures that are very different (e.g. Mexican Sign Language compared with Japanese Sign Language). Guerra Currie et al. suggest, as have other writers (e.g. Woll 1983) that there likely exists a base level of similarity between the lexicons of all signed languages regardless of any historical ties that they may or may not share. david quinto-pozos 3

A similar claim is made by Janzen and Shaffer in this volume, but the questions that they pose differ from those that Guerra Currie et al. pose. Janzen and Shaffer are concerned with the manner in which nonlinguistic gestures become grammatical elements of a language, while Guerra Currie et al. are interested in the manner in which the possible gestural origins of signs may influence the similarity of signed language vocabularies regardless of where the languages originate.


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References Armstrong, David F., William C. Stokoe, and Sherman E. Wilcox. 1995. Gesture and the nature of language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. De Jorio, Andrea. 2000. Gesture in Naples and gesture in classical antiquity. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Efron, David. 1941. Gesture and environment. Morningside Heights. NY: King’s Crown Press. Ekman, Paul, and Wallace V. Friesen. 1969. The repertoire of nonverbal behavioral categories: Origins, usage, and coding. Semiotica 1:49–98. Emmorey, Karen. 1999. Do signers gesture? In Gesture, speech, and sign, ed. Lynn Messing and Ruth Campbell, 133–159. New York: Oxford University Press. Emmorey, Karen. In press. Perspectives on classifier constructions. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Goldin-Meadow, Susan and Jill Morford. 1994. Gesture in early language. In From gesture to language in hearing and deaf children, ed. Virginia Volterra and Carol J. Erting, Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Iverson, Jana M. and Susan Goldin-Meadow. 1997. What’s communication got to do with it? Gesture in children blind from birth. Developmental Psychology 33:453– 467. Iverson, Jana M. and Susan Goldin-Meadow. 1998. Editors’ notes. In The nature and functions of gesture in children’s communication, eds. Jana M. Iverson and Susan Goldin-Meadow, 1–7. San Francisco, CA: Josey-Bass. Iverson, Jana M., Heather L. Tencer, Jill Lany, and Susan Goldin-Meadow. 2000. The relation between gesture and speech in congenitally blind and sighted languagelearners. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 24:105–130. Kendon, Adam. 1981. Geography of gesture. Semiotica 37:129–163. Klima, Edward S. and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Liddell, Scott K. 2000. Indicating verbs and pronouns: Pointing away from agreement. In The signs of language revisited, ed. K. Emmorey and H. Lane, 303–320. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Liddell, Scott K. and Melanie Metzger. 1998. Gesture in sign language discourse. Journal of Pragmatics. 30:657–697. Marschark, Marc. 1994. Gesture and sign. Applied Psycholinguistics 15:209–236. McNeill, David. 1992. Hand and mind. Chicago, IL: Cambridge University Press. Morford, Jill P. and Judy A. Kegl. 2000. Gestural precursors to linguistic constructs: How input shapes the form of language. In Language and gesture, ed. David McNeill, 358–387. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Morris, Desmond, Peter Collett, P. Marsh, and M. O’Shaughnessy. 1979. Gestures: Their origins and distribution. New York: Stein and Day. Singleton, Jenny L., Susan Goldin-Meadow, and David McNeill. 1995. The cataclysmic break between gesticulation and sign: Evidence against a unified continuum of gestural communication. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 287–311. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Stokoe, William C. and Marc Marschark. 1999. Signs, gestures, and signs. In Gesture, speech, and sign, ed. Lynn Messing and Ruth Campbell, 161–181. New York: Oxford University Press.

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Stokoe, William C. 2000. Gesture to sign (language). In Language and gesture, ed. David McNeill, 388–399. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Supalla, Ted. 1982. Structure and acquisition of verbs of motion and location in American Sign Language. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. Supalla, Ted. 1986. The classifier system in American Sign Language. In Noun classes and categorization: Typological studies in language, Vol. 7, ed. Collette Craig, 181–214. Philadelphia, PA: John Benjamins. Woll, Bencie. 1983. The comparative study of different sign languages: Preliminary analyses. In Recent research on European sign languages, ed. Filip Loncke, Penny Boyes-Braem, and Yvan Lebrun, 79–91. Lisse: Swets and Zeitlinger.

7

A modality-free notion of gesture and how it can help us with the morpheme vs. gesture question in sign language linguistics (Or at least give us some criteria to work with) Arika Okrent

7.1

Liddell’s proposal that there are gestures in agreement verbs

Forty years of research on signed languages has revealed the unquestionable fact that signers construct their utterances in a structured way from units that are defined within a language system. They do not pantomime or “draw pictures in the air.” But does this mean that every aspect of a signed articulation should have the same status as a linguistic unit? A proposal by Liddell (1995; 1996; Liddell and Metzger 1998) has brought the issue of the linguistic status of certain parts of American Sign Language (ASL) utterances to the fore. He proposes that agreement verbs are not verbs simultaneously articulated with agreement morphemes, but verbs simultaneously articulated with pointing gestures. Agreement verbs are verbs that move to locations in signing space associated with particular referents in the discourse. A signer may establish a man on the left side at location x and a woman on the right side at location y. Then, to sign ‘He asks her,’ the signer moves the lexical sign ASK from location x to location y. The locations in these constructions have been analyzed as agreement morphemes (Fischer and Gough 1978; Klima and Bellugi 1979; Padden 1988; Liddell and Johnson 1989; Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990; Aarons et al. 1992) that combine with the lexical verb to form a multimorphemic sign xASKy. However, according to Liddell’s claim, when a signer produces the utterance ‘He asks her,’ he or she does not combine the specifications of the sign ASK with morphemic location features, but rather, he or she points at cognitively meaningful locations in space with the sign ASK. This challenges the claim that the locus aspect of these utterances is morphemic, or even phonological. Liddell argues for a gesture account partly on the basis of the impossibility of specifying the form of the agreement morpheme. There are an infinite number of possible locations that can have referential value. The signing space cannot be divided into 10 or 20 discrete, contrastive locations; there are rather as many locations possible as there are discernible points in space. The locations used 175

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are, in situations where the participants are present, determined by the position of real people in real space. If the man and the woman being discussed were present in the above example, the verb would move from the real location of the man to the real location of the woman. The form of the agreement morpheme can only be described as “the place where the thing I’m talking about is located.”1 The location of a person in space is a fact about the world independently of anybody’s language and should not be considered linguistic. 7.2

Objections to the proposal2

Liddell’s proposal has been controversial. One of the main objections to the notion of verb agreement being gestural has been that the pointing3 in agreement verbs is restricted by language-internal considerations. r Some verbs can do it and some verbs cannot: The verb LOVE cannot point toward its object, but the verb ASK can. One must know the language to know which verbs can and cannot point. r Verbs which point, must point, and must do so correctly: The verb ASK must point to the subject and then the object while the verb INVITE must point to the object and then the subject. A verb that points must point in a sentence where its arguments are explicitly located: *HEx ASK(no pointing) HERy. One must know the language to know the proper pointing behaviors for verbs. r Different sign languages do it in different ways: In the Sign Language of the Netherlands, the verb itself is articulated in neutral space, followed by an auxiliary element that points (Bos 1996). One must know the language to know whether it is the verb or an auxiliary that points. The implication behind these objections is that, even if it is true that the phonological form of the agreement morpheme is unspecified, the pointing in general is restricted on the basis of language internal considerations, and what is restricted on the basis of language internal considerations cannot be gesture.4 1 2 3

4

For the case where the actual referents are not present, Liddell (1995; 1996) argues that they are made present through the grounding of mental spaces, something that is also done by nonsigners. The authors cited for the objections did not themselves frame any of their works as arguments against the gesture account of agreement. “Pointing” generally refers to an action performed with an index finger. Here “pointing” refers to the same action, but without necessarily involving the use of an index finger. It is “pointing” performed with whatever handshape the verb is specified for. There are also objections based on psycholinguistic studies of language development (Newport and Meier 1985; Meier 1987; Petitto 1987) and brain damage (Poizner et al. 1987). I do not address these objections in this chapter, but I do not believe the results of these studies necessarily rule out the gesture account. It appears that nonsigning children do not have full control of abstract deixis in gesture until age four or five (McNeill, personal communication) and there is evidence that nonsigning adults with right hemisphere damage maintain the use of space for gestures of abstract deixis, while iconic gestures are impaired (McNeill and Pedelty 1995). More studies of the use of abstract deixis in gesture by nonsigners are required in order to be able to fully evaluate whether the psycholinguistic studies of verb agreement in ASL reveal something about the nature of ASL or about the nature of abstract referential pointing gestures.

A modality-free notion of gesture

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I believe that a large part of the conflict between the gestural and grammatical accounts results from a misunderstanding of what gesture means in relationship to language and where we are allowed to find gesture. I present McNeill’s (1992) notion of gesture as a modality-free notion and show how speakers not only use speech and manual gesture at the same time, but also speech and spoken gesture at the same time. For speakers, gestural and linguistic codes can be combined in the same vocal–auditory channel. However, because they do take place in the same channel, there are restrictions on how that combination is executed. I argue that signers can also combine a gestural and linguistic code in the same manual–visual channel, and that the restrictions on how pointing is carried out need not mean that the location features are morphemic, but rather that there are restrictions on how the two codes combine in one channel. 7.3

The morpheme vs. gesture question

7.3.1

What is a morpheme?

So far I have laid out the controversy as follows: the location features are seen as being either morphemic or gestural. Clearly, the direction of the pointing of an agreement verb is meaningful, and forms used in language which are meaningful – and which must combine with other forms in order to be articulated – are traditionally assigned to the level of morphological description. Yet, some meaningful behaviors involved in language use, such as gesture and intonation, have not traditionally been seen as belonging to a morphological level of description; rather, they are traditionally seen as paralinguistic: parasitic on linguistic forms, but not themselves linguistic. So to say that the location features of agreement verbs are nonmorphological implies that they are pushed out of the linguistic, to the paralinguistic level of description. It is not necessarily the case that meaningful forms that are not morphological must therefore be nonlinguistic. There are approaches which allow for meaningful aspects of form which are not morphological, but are still linguistic. Woodbury (1987), working in the lexical phonology framework (see Kiparsky 1982) challenges traditional duality of patterning assumptions and the use of abstract morphological ‘place holders’5 by proposing an account of meaningful postlexical phonological processes. Researchers in intonational phonology view intonation as having categorical linguistic structure (for an overview, see Ladd 1996) apart from any claims about whether the relationship between that structure and the meanings it imparts is a morphological one. These approaches share the view that meaningful phonology need not be morphological, but what 5

This refers to the use of abstract features to stand in for the “meaning” of phonological processes that occur at a later stage of a derivation or a different module of a grammar. These abstract features then have a chance to be manipulated in the syntax without violating the assumption that all phonology takes place separately from levels dealing with meaning.

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makes it linguistic as opposed to paralinguistic is the categorical structure of its form. Admittedly, such a statement is a bit of an oversimplification. The matter of deciding which aspects of intonation are linguistic and which are paralinguistic has not been resolved; it is not clear what kind of linguistic status should be ascribed to gradient, final postlexical processes of phonetic implementation, but these approaches generally imply that what makes a form–meaning pairing a linguistic one is the categorical nature of the units out of which the form is built. I have stated that some linguists have found ways to see some aspects of meaningful phonology as being linguistic without them necessarily being morphological. Morphology means different things to different linguists. It has been placed within the phonology, the lexicon, the syntax, or on its own level by different theorists. In this chapter, I appeal to a general, structuralist definition of the morpheme: a minimal linguistic unit of form–meaning pairing. The question I aim to address – i.e. whether the location features of agreement verbs are morphemes or gestures – hinges on the term “linguistic” in the definition above. I have already mentioned one possible criterion for considering something linguistic or not: that of categorical (as opposed to gradient) form. The categorical–gradient distinction is important in this discussion, but it is not the end of the story. “Conventionality” is an important concept in the determination of whether something is linguistic or not. The idealized linguistic symbol is conventionalized. This is related to the notion that the idealized linguistic symbol is arbitrary. When the form of a sign does not have any necessary connection with its meaning, if it does not have an iconic or indexical relationship to its referent, the only way it could be connected to its meaning by language users is by some sort of agreement, implicit or explicit, that such a form–meaning pairing exists: convention steps in as an explanation for the successful use of arbitrary signs. However, a sign need not be arbitrary to be conventional. The onomatopoeia woof is iconic of a dog’s bark, but it is also conventional. The reason that it is conventional is not because there would otherwise be no way to transmit its meaning, but rather because this is the form that English speakers regularly use as a symbol of a dog’s bark. It is this regularity of use, this consistent pairing of form and meaning over many instances of use that creates a conventional sign. In Russian gaf is the conventional sign for a dog’s bark. This form is just as iconic as woof.6 An English speaker could use the Russian form to represent a dog’s bark, but to do so he or she would need a lot of contextual support. If he were to utter gaf in the acoustic manner of a dog’s bark, while panting like a dog and pointing to a picture of a dog, it would likely be understood that gaf was meant to signify a dog’s bark. Gaf is not a form regularly paired in English 6

I appeal to a rather intuitive notion of iconicity here; for a thorough discussion of iconicity, see Taub 1998.


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with such a meaning, and although it can still have the meaning of a dog’s bark in a specific context of speaking described above, it does not have that meaning by virtue of convention. A conventional sign does not need as much contextual support to have a meaning. Part of what is needed for a form to be conventionalized is the ability of that form to be used to mean something stable over a wide range of specific speaking events. In Langacker’s (1987) terms, it becomes “entrenched” and “decontextualized.” It becomes entrenched as it is consistently paired with a meaning and, because of that, it comes to be decontextualized, i.e. it comes to have a meaning and a form that abstract away from the details of any one occasion of its use. It is important to note that a symbolic unit can be more or less entrenched, and more or less decontextualized, but there is no criterial border that separates the conventionalized from the unconventionalized. Freyd (1983) suggests that linguistic forms are categorical, as opposed to gradient, as a result of their being conventional. Due to “shareability constraints,” people stabilize forms as a group, creating categories in order to minimize information loss. A form structured around stable categories can be pronounced in many ways and in many contexts but still retain a particular meaning. A change in form that does not put that form in a different category does not result in a change in meaning. But if a form is gradient, a change in that form leads to a concomitant change of meaning, and the nature of that change is different in different contexts. A form can be said to be “conventionalized” if it has a stable form and meaning, which have come into being through consistent pairing and regular use. A morpheme is a conventionalized form–meaning pairing and, because of its conventionality, has categorical structure. Also, because of its conventionality, it is decontextualized so it is listable independent from the speech event. It is worth noting here that while the ideal linguistic unit is a conventionalized unit, it is not necessarily the case that every conventionalized unit is linguistic. Emblematic gestures (see Section 7.3.2.1) like ‘thumbs up’ are quite conventionalized, but we would not want to say they are English words because their form is so vastly different from the majority of English words. Given that a conventionalized unit is not necessarily a linguistic unit, is a linguistic unit necessarily conventionalized? A linguistic unit necessarily involves conventions. The question remains as to what the nature of those conventions must be. I explore this question further in Section 7.5 when I discuss the issues that motivate the criteria for deciding how to draw the line between morpheme and gesture. 7.3.2

What is a gesture?

The controversy over whether agreement is gestural or morphemic depends heavily on what one’s notion of gesture is. What does gesture even mean in

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a visual–manual language? It cannot mean ‘things you do with your hands,’ because then all of sign language would be gesture, and we obviously do not want to equate signed language with the hand movements that people make while speaking a spoken language. To answer this question, we need a modalityfree notion of gesture. 7.3.2.1 Emblems. I adopt here McNeill’s (1992; 1997) notion of gesture. The most common, colloquial use of the term “gesture” refers to emblems. Emblems are gestures such as the “OK” sign, the “goodbye” wave, and the “shushing” gesture. These gestures have fully specified forms: there is a correct way to produce them. These gestures are picked from a set of defined forms, and in that way they are similar to lexical items. They are listable and specified, like words, and can be used in the presence or absence of speech. They are conventionalized. I mention these emblem gestures in order to stress that my use of the term “gesture” does not refer to them, and I would like to lay them aside. The notion of gesture that I refer to uses the term to describe speech-synchronized gestures that are created online during speaking. These gestures are not plucked from a gesture lexicon and pasted into the conversation; they rather arise in concert with the speech, and their form reflects the processing stage that gave rise to the speech. The gestures are not conventionalized and are produced with speech. 7.3.2.2 Speech synchronized gestures. Figure 7.1 shows a normal example of speech-synchronized gesture. These pictures are video stills from a research project in which subjects are videotaped telling the story of a Sylvester and Tweety cartoon that they have just seen. If one looks at these gestures without reading the description of the event being narrated (below), there is no way to know what these gestures mean. Unlike the case of emblems or signs, a speech-synchronized gesture does not express a conventionalized form– meaning pairing. The conventionalized pairings occur in the accompanying speech and reliably communicate the meaning to an interlocutor who knows the conventions. The gestures on their own cannot reliably communicate meaning because they are not conventionalized. Their forms are created in the moment and directly reflect the image around which the speaker is building his (or her) speech. However, because those forms do reflect the image around which the speech is built, knowing what that imagery is (either through hearing the speech at the same time, or through knowing the content of the narration) will render the gestures meaningful. In the scene that the speaker is describing in Figure 7.1, Sylvester makes an attempt to capture Tweety, who is in a cage in a window high up on a building. He makes a seesaw with a block and a board, stands on one side of the seesaw, and throws an anvil on the other side, propelling himself upward. He grabs Tweety at the window and falls back down onto his


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Figure 7.1 watched

Video stills of speaker telling the story of a cartoon he has just

side of the seesaw, propelling the anvil upward. The anvil then comes down on his head, flattening it, and Tweety escapes. The gestures pictured in Figure 7.1 should now seem quite transparent in meaning. They are meaningful not because they are conventionalized, but because you know the imagery they are based on, and so will see that imagery in the gestures. The representational significance of the gestures (a–l) pictured in Figure 7.1 is given in (1). (1)

a. b. c–d. e.

introduction of the seesaw introduction of the weight Sylvester throws the weight Sylvester goes up

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f. g–h. i–j. k–l.

and comes down grabs Tweety Sylvester comes down, sending the weight up weight comes down and smashes Sylvester

These gestures do not reproduce exactly the events of the cartoon, in the same order. Iconic speech-synchronized gestures are not remembered images recreated on the hands. They are representations “formed within and conditioned by the linguistic system” (Duncan 1998). The speaker packages the incident into the linguistic structures given by his language and the gesture emerges in sync with and congruent with that packaging. So what he does with his gestures is somewhat constrained by the way he has packaged the event for his speech. Examples (e) and (f) represent Sylvester’s overall trajectory of being propelled upward then falling downward. Then (g–h) represent Sylvester’s grabbing Tweety at the window, something that happened before the up–down trajectory was complete. Examples (i–j) begins at the downward part of the overall trajectory, but this time the focus is on the relative trajectories of the Sylvester and the weight. The speaker focuses on the relative trajectories in order to set up the punchline: Sylvester getting smashed by the weight. The speaker did not take these gestures from a list of pre-existing conventionalized gestures. He created them on the spot, in the context of his narrative. They reflect imagery that is important in his discourse at the moment. Also, they do not simply depict the scene. They depict the scene in chunks that his linguistic packaging of the scene has created. The gestures pictured above are all “iconics” (McNeill 1992). They depict concrete aspects of imagery with forms that look like the images they represent. There are other classes of speech-synchronized gesture that do not work on exactly the same principle. The most important class to mention for purposes of this chapter is that of “abstract deixis” (McNeill et al. 1993). In gestures of abstract deixis, speakers establish loci for elements of the discourse by pointing to the empty space in front of them. Like signers, they point to the same spatial locus when talking about the entity that they have established there, but unlike signers, they are not required to do so consistently. This is due to the fact that the speech is carrying most of the communicative content, leaving more room for referential errors in the gesture.7 This speech-synchronized gesturing is very robust around the world, and it is used by speakers of all languages. This does not necessarily mean that we should expect signers to do it as well, but it does give us a good motivation to look for it. If signers were to have sign-synchronized gesture, they would have to simultaneously gesture and sign. 7

However, there is evidence that interlocutors do pick up on information communicated in gesture that is not present in speech (McNeill et al. 1994). It is probable that inconsistency in maintaining loci in gesture leads to comprehension difficulties.


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WHY

WAKE-UP

EARLY

gesture

ASK-HIM

gesture

Figure 7.2

Illustration of (2)

7.3.2.3 Less controversial analyses of gesture in sign. r Code suspension: Researchers looking at gesture in sign have considered certain manual actions that are interspersed with the sign stream as gestures (Marschark 1994; Emmorey 1999). For example, a thumb-point or a shouldershrug may be considered a gesture. These gestures do not, however, happen simultaneously with signs. They pattern as suspensions of the linguistic code: SIGN SIGN GESTURE SIGN, as in (2), which is illustrated in Figure 7.2. (2) WHY WAKE-UP EARLY gesture ASK gesture ‘Why does he wake up early? Ask him.’ While gestures that interrupt the sign stream are an interesting area for further research, they do not speak to the issue of simultaneously articulated sign and gesture.8 r Gesture on different articulators: Some nonmanual actions have been considered candidates for gesture, namely affect-displaying face and body posture 8

I am neutral on whether these emblem-type signs should be considered proper lexical signs or gestures. They have different distributional properties from lexical signs (Emmorey 1999), but it may be simply that we tend not to view forms with purely pragmatic meaning as fully linguistic, for example English mmm-hmmm.

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LOOK-AROUND Figure 7.3

SMILE Illustration of (3)

(Emmorey 1999) and “constructed actions” (Metzger 1995). These gestures are articulated simultaneously with signs, but on separate articulators. In (3) the signer signs LOOK-AROUND while himself looking around, and SMILE while smiling (see illustration in Figure 7.3). (3)

looking smiling LOOK-AROUND SMILE ‘He looked around and then smiled.’

This kind of example shows the co-ordination of a gesture-producing articulator with a sign-producing articulator, and is similar to the examples of hearing people producing speech on the vocal articulator while producing gesture on the manual articulators. However, the question of whether pointing verbs can contain gesture within them is a question of whether a signer can gesture and sign simultaneously on the same articulator. 7.3.2.4 Gesture as a semiotic notion. The above discussion of simultaneously produced gesture and speech does not seem to reveal anything about the simultaneous production of ASL and gesture on the same articulator. The speech is produced with the vocal articulators while the gesture is produced with the manual articulators, so there can be no confusion as to which is which. However, McNeill’s (1992; 1997) notion of gesture is not modality bound. It is a semiotic, not a physical notion. The semiotic notion of gesture is: r That which expresses the imagistic side of thought during speaking through forms directly created to conform to that imagery. The imagery can be concrete or abstract. McNeill (1992) argues that in language use two kinds of cognition are in play: imagistic thinking (Arnheim 1969; see also the “spatial-motoric thinking” of Kita 2000) and analytic thinking. In imagistic thinking, concepts are represented as “global-synthetic” images: “global” in that the parts of the image have meaning only insofar as they form part of a meaningful whole, and “synthetic” in that the parts of the image are synthesized into a single, unitary


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image. In analytic thinking, multiple separately identifiable components are assembled and put into linear and hierarchical order (McNeill 1992:245). Gestures are viewed as a manifestation of imagistic thinking and speech as a manifestation of analytic thinking. The structure of the forms produced in gesture and in speech reflect the nature of the different thought processes: gestures are global-synthetic and speech is linear, segmented, and hierarchically organized. Theories of language aligned with the “cognitive linguistics” perspective propose that the structure of all aspects of language is motivated by imagery. The structure of both form and meaning in language is determined by abstract schematic imagery, from word structure and the lexicon, to sentence structure (Langacker 1987), to reference and discourse structure (Fauconnier 1994). It may be argued, from that perspective, that both gesture and speech are manifestations of imagistic thinking. However, gesture is still different in that it manifests imagistic thinking directly. The images themselves are given physical realization in the immediate environment. The grabbing action of Sylvester becomes the grabbing action of a hand; the smashing of an anvil on Sylvester’s head becomes the smashing of one hand upon the other. In speech, the representation of imagery is mediated by access to an inventory of symbolic units. Those units are symbols by virtue of convention and need not have forms that directly realize imagery. One may construe the lexical meaning of hypotenuse with reference to the image of a right triangle with its longest side foregrounded (Langacker 1991), but there is nothing about the physical form of the utterance [hapatnju s] which itself manifests that imagery. r The forms created are unconventionalized. Upon first looking at Figure 7.1, before reading the description of the scene being described, a reader of this chapter (most likely) has no access to the meaning of any of the gestures depicted. Figure 7.1e represents Sylvester being propelled upward. It only has that meaning in this particular speaking event; there is no convention of that particular gesture being paired with such a meaning. One might argue that an utterance of the word up likewise could only mean “Sylvester was propelled upward” in a specific context. It is true that words are not completely specified for meaning; some aspects of the meaning of up in any one instance of its usage are supplied by the context of the speech event. It could refer to a high static location or a movement, different trajectory shapes, different velocities of movement, etc. The conventionalized meaning of up abstracts away from all such particulars, leaving a rather abstract schema for ‘up’ as its meaning. One might look at the gesture in (1e) and without knowing that it represents Sylvester being propelled upward, recognize it as some sort of depiction of the abstract schema of ‘upness.’ However, the word up, as a conventional sign for ‘upness,’ may be underspecified with respect to particulars of its meaning in context, but it is completely specified with respect to its

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form. In contrast, there is no convention that determines how the gesture for ‘upness’ should be pronounced. It may, as a gesture, come out as the raising of a fist, the lift of a shoulder, or the raising of the chin. All such gestures do share one feature of form; they move upward, and one might be tempted to say that that aspect of upward movement alone is the conventionalized form for representing upward movement. Such a form–meaning pairing is tautological: ‘up’ means ‘up,’ and need not appeal to convention for its existence. Additionally, the spoken phrase “He flew up” can be uttered in sync with a gesture which moves downward without contradiction. For example, the speaker could make a gesture for Sylvester’s arms flying down to his sides due to the velocity of his own upward movement. The only motivation for the form of a speechsynchronized gesture is the imagery in the speaker’s thought at the moment of speaking. That being said, there are some conventions involved in the production of gesture. There may be cultural conventions that determine the amount of gesturing used or that prevent some taboo actions (such as pointing directly at the addressee) from occurring. There are also cultural conventions that determine what kind of imagery we access for abstract concepts. Webb (1996) has found that there are recurring form–meaning pairings in gesture. For example, an “F” handshape (the thumb and index fingers pinched together with the other fingers spread) or an “O” handshape (all the fingers pinched together) is regularly used to represent “preciseness” in the discourses she has analyzed. According to McNeill (personal communication), it is not the conventionality of the form– meaning pairing that gives rise to such regularity, but the conventionality of the imagery in the metaphors we use to understand abstract concepts (in the sense of Lakoff and Johnson 1980; Lakoff 1987). What is conventional is that we conceive of preciseness as something small and to be gingerly handled with the fingertips. The handshape used to represent this imagery then comes to look alike across different people who share that imagery. The disagreement here is not one of whether there are conventions involved in the use of gestures. It is rather one of where the site of conventionalization lies. Is it the forms themselves that are conventionalized, as Webb claims, or the conceptual metaphors that give rise to those forms, as McNeill claims? The issue of “site of conventionalization” is also important for the question of whether the pointing in agreement verbs in ASL is linguistic or gestural. I give more attention to this issue in Section 7.5.2. In any case, what is important here is that the gestures are not formed out of discrete, conventionalized components in the same way that spoken utterances are. And even if there are conventionalized aspects to gesturing, they are far less conventionalized than the elements of speech. r The form of the gesture patterns meaning onto form in a gradient, as opposed to a categorical way.


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In gesture, differences in form correspond to differences in meaning in a continuous fashion. In speech, many different pronunciations of a word are linked to the same conventional meaning. To sum up, gesture is: r That which expresses the imagistic side of thought during speaking through forms directly created to conform to that imagery. The imagery can be concrete or abstract. r The forms created are unconventionalized. r The form of the gesture patterns meaning onto form in a gradient, as opposed to a categorical way. With this notion of gesture, many actions produced with the vocal articulators can be considered gesture. 7.4

Spoken gesture9

In this section I discuss something I call “spoken gesture.” This term covers things that people do with their voices while speaking which exhibit the properties of gesture described above. Example (4) is an example of the meaningful manipulation of vowel length. (4)

It was a looooong time.

In (4), the word long is clearly a linguistic, listable unit, as are the phonemes that compose it. The lengthening of the vowel expresses the imagery of temporal extension through actual temporal extension. The lengthening of the vowel is not a phonemic feature of the word, nor a result of phonotactic considerations. It is not the result of choosing a feature [+long] from the finite set of phonetic features. It is an expression of imagery through a directly created form that happens to be simultaneously articulated with the prescribed form of the vowel. In (5), the acoustic parameter of fundamental frequency is manipulated. (5)

The bird flew up [high pitch] and down [low pitch].

The words up and down are linguistic, listable units, as are the phonemes that compose them. The high pitch on up expresses the imagery of highness through 9

All of my examples of spoken gesture are akin to the iconics class of gesture. My argument, insofar as it addresses gesture in agreement verbs, would be better served by examples of spoken gesture that are akin to abstract deixis, but there can be no correlate of abstract deixis in speech because there is simply no way to point with sound waves. One can, of course, refer with sound and words, but the speech channel cannot support true pointing. A reviewer suggested that pointing can be accomplished in speech by using pitch, vowel length, or amplitude to index the distance of referents. I have not quite resolved whether to consider such use of acoustic parameters to be pointing, but for now I will say that the defining characteristic of pointing is that it shows you where to direct your attention to in order to ascertain the referent of the pointing. An index of distance alone gives you some idea of where to direct your attention, but a much less precise one.

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a metaphor that associates high vocal frequency with high spatial location. The low pitch on down expresses the imagery of lowness through the flip side of that metaphor. The tones are not phonemic features of the words. The tones express imagery through a directly created form which is simultaneously articulated with fixed lexical items. In (6), repetition is exploited for effect. (6)

Work, work, work, rest.

The words in this example are linguistic, listable units. The construction in which they occur cannot be given a syntactic–semantic analysis. The quantity of words reflects the imagery of the respective quantity of work and rest. The ordering of the words reflects the ordering of the actions. A lot of work, followed by a little rest. The words are chosen from the lexicon. The construction in which they occur is created in the moment. The examples of spoken gesture show that speakers can express the linguistic and the gestural simultaneously, on the same articulators, in the same modality. Liddell does not propose that agreement verbs are gestures. He rather proposes that they are linguistic units (features of handshape, orientation, etc.) simultaneously articulated with pointing gestures (the location features, or “where the verb points”). Spoken linguistic units can be articulated simultaneously with spoken gestures. That signs could be articulated simultaneously with manual gestures is at least a possibility. 7.5

The criteria

I have discussed differences between the morphemic (or linguistic) and the gestural and introduced the idea of spoken gesture. In sections 7.5.1–7.5.3 I discuss the problematic issues that arise when trying to draw a clear distinction between what is linguistic and what is gestural when both types of code are expressed in the same channel, on the same articulators. The issues are: r “degree of conventionalization” of a form; r “site of conventionalization” of a convention; and r “restriction on combination” of a gesture with a linguistic form. They are presented as the dimensions along which criteria for deciding where to draw the line between morpheme and gesture can be established. 7.5.1

The determination of conventionalization is a problem

Put simply, the form of a gesture is unconventionalized, while the form of a word or morpheme is fully conventionalized. However, these examples of spoken gesture present some problems in the determination of their level of conventionalization. The vowel extension in (4) can also be applied to other


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words. It can be applied to other adjectives as in It was biiiiiiiig or to modifiers as in It was veeeeeeeery difficult. In all cases the lengthening seems to convey the meaning of “moreness.” Are we dealing with a morpheme here? Most linguistic theories would say no. Still, there is something conventionalized about the vowel lengthening. It seems to be somewhat regularly and consistently done, but certainly not as consistently as the form more is paired with the meaning of “moreness.” Also, unlike the case with conventionalized lexical items or morphemes, we can take advantage of the gradient nature of the patterning in order to make fine distinctions in meaning. We can vary the meaning by correspondingly varying the form in a nondiscrete way. Consider He had a biiiiig house, but his parents had a biiiiiiiiiiig house. The tone sequence in (5) may also be seen as conventionalized within the realm of intonational phonology. The particular sequence of pitch accents and boundary tones is also found in other common collocations such as back and forth and day and night. However, if gradient patterning is taken advantage of and the intonation is extended to The bird flew uuuuuup [with exaggerated rising contour] and dooooown [with exaggerated falling contour], then the phrase does not follow a conventionalized pattern. The phrase day and night said with the same exaggerated intonation would be odd (although for me, saying it that way evokes the image of a rising and setting sun). Through the manipulation of pitch, intensity, and timing parameters we can continue to map more meaning onto the form by adding force dynamics, speed, and particular flight contours to the articulation, all of which would certainly be outside the realm of intonational phonology. How much of that manipulation can be considered conventionalized? One could also see conventionalized aspects in example (6). There seems to be some sort of convention to three repetitions, as in Work work work, that’s all I ever do or Bills bills bills, can’t I get any other kind of mail? However, as with the examples above, the ordered sequence of words in (9) can also be made more imagistic by taking advantage of gradient patterning. Consider Work, work, work, work, work [said very rapidly] – rest [said very slowly]. Again, speed, intensity, force dynamics, and other sequencing possibilities can be mapped directly onto the form of the utterance. It is difficult to determine where the conventional leaves off and the idiosyncratic begins. The purpose of this section has been to show that it is no trivial matter to decide whether something is conventionalized and how conventionalized it is when we leave the extremes of the scale. It is probably reasonable to have degree of conventionalization as a criterion for considering something gestural or linguistic, with completely conventionalized on the linguistic side and completely unconventionalized on the gestural side. Unfortunately, most of the cases we have difficulty with lie in between these extremes.

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Degree of Conventionalization: The determination of the degree to which something is conventionalized is certainly useful in deciding whether something is gestural or morphemic. However, it is no trivial matter to make this determination, and the researcher must be wary of depending on this criterion entirely.

7.5.2

The determination of the site of conventionalization is important

The controversy over the gesture proposal for agreement verbs is due in large part to the fact that in deciding whether the pointing is morphemic or gestural, different criteria are being used. For Liddell, the form of the locus position being pointed to by the agreement verb is not conventionalized, so it is gesture. The objections stress that the way that pointing in general is carried out is restricted in a conventionalized way, so the pointing is morphemic. Both points of view take degree of conventionalization as a criterion of decision, but they differ on the site of conventionalization which is important: conventionalization of the form of the locus position itself vs. conventionalization of the way in which pointing is carried out in general. It is clear that there are conventions that govern the use of pointing. If the criterion for considering something gesture is whether or not it is conventionalized, then both viewpoints are correct, but in different ways. It is gesture because its form is nonconventionalized; it is linguistic because the practice of using those forms is conventionalized. What we have here is a disagreement about which stratum of conventionalization is important in considering a phenomenon linguistic. Site of Conventionalization: When something is said to be conventionalized, or restricted by language-internal considerations, the researcher must be as explicit as possible about the level at which that conventionalization is located. Is it the form that is conventionalized, or a particular aspect of the use of that form? If the researcher decides that conventionalization on a particular level suggests a linguistic (as opposed to cognitive or cultural) interpretation of the phenomenon, he or she should be consistent in considering parallel cases in spoken language as linguistic as well.

7.5.3

Restrictions on the combination of the gestural and the linguistic

7.5.3.1 Where the feature is not elsewhere contrastive. All agree that there are restrictions on the way pointing is carried out that are language particular. There are two ways of looking at this. Either the fact that it is restricted makes all parts of it linguistic, or there is a gestural part and a linguistic part, and the gestural must combine with the linguistic in a restricted way. This prompts one to ask whether there are any constraints on the way in which the combination of gesture and speech is carried out in general. It appears there are, as in (4) above. In example (4), all three phonemes (// /ɔ/ /ŋ/) are possible


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candidates for temporal extension. All are continuants and could be sustained for longer durations. However, the best way to achieve the combination is to extend the vowel. (7)

a. *llllllong time b. *longngngng time

This example is intended to show that when speech and gesture must combine in the same channel, there are restrictions on the way they may combine. There are linguistic elements that are better suited to carry the gestures than others. In this case, the vowel is the best bearer of this gesture. It is not always the case that the gestural manipulation must combine with the vowel. But there seem to be restrictions determining which kinds of segments are best combined with certain types of gestures. 7.5.3.2 Where the feature is elsewhere contrastive. The spoken gesture examples I have given here have involved manipulation of parameters that are not otherwise involved in categorical contrasts elsewhere in the language. English does not have phonemic vowel length or tone, nor is reduplication a morphological process. Those parameters are, in a sense, free to be gestural. But what happens in a language where the phonetic form used to convey the imagery has phonemic value? In Mandarin Chinese, the lexical tones for shang, ‘up’ and for xia, ‘down’ are both falling (tone 4). In this case, the lexical specification for tone seems to preclude any gestural use of tone. Indeed, a speaker cannot make the word for ‘up’ have a rising contour for the expression of imagery as seen in Figure 7.4 (a spectrogram of an English speaker saying uuuuup and doooown). The Chinese speaker cannot express the imagery of an upward climb with a sharp pitch rise over the word for ‘up’ as above, because the lexical word for ‘up,’ shang, must have a falling tone. However, there are other ways for the gesture to emerge. The normal pitch contour for shang ‘up’ and xia ‘down’ is shown in Figure 7.5. (8)

Ta pa shang you He climb up have ‘He climbed up and down.’

pa climb

xia down

Both shang and xia fall sharply in pitch, and the second articulation starts a little lower than the first due to regular sentence declination. Figure 7.6 shows the pitch contour for the gesture enhanced articulation of shang and xia. This articulation was elicited by asking the speaker to imagine he was telling a story to a child and wanted to put the imagery of upness and downness into his voice.10 10

The speaker also stated that his utterance sounded like something going up and down and that it sounded quite different from simple stress or emphasis on ‘up.’

Figure 7.4

uuuuuuuuup

Spectrogram of English utterance with gestural intonation

He went

and

doooooown

Figure 7.5

pa

shang

you

Spectrogram of Chinese utterance with neutral intonation

Ta

pa

xia

Figure 7.6

niao

pa

shaaaaaaaaang

Spectrogram of Chinese utterance with gestural intonation

Xiao

you

pa

xia


(9)

Xiao niao pa shang you Bird climb up have ‘The bird flew up and down.’

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pa climb

xia down

Notice that shang does not rise as uuuup does in the English example above in Figure 7.4. It cannot rise because of the restriction of lexical tone. However, it is still possible for the speaker to manipulate intonation gesturally. The gesture of ‘upness’ is achieved through the displacement of the pitch peak of shang to be much higher than the peak for xia and the extended articulation. The point of this example is to show that the use of an articulatory parameter for categorial contrast in one area of the language does not render impossible its use in the realm of gesture, and that there may be language-particular restrictions on the way that spoken gesture combines with spoken language.11 Not much is known at this point about the kinds of restrictions on the combination of spoken gesture with speech and whether there are any parallels to the restrictions on pointing mentioned as objections to the gesture proposal in Section 7.2. Are there spoken gestures that may only combine with a particular lexical class (first point in Section 7.2)? Expressive reduplication may in some cases be restricted to a certain aspectual class of verbs. Are there spoken gestures which are non-optional (second point)? That depends on whether non-optional intonation patterns that indicate topic and focus, or question and statement, are to be considered gestural. Do different languages handle spoken gesture in different ways (third point)? Chinese and English seem to differ in the way pitch can be used gesturally. I do not have satisfactory answers to the questions above. At this point I only submit that the dimension of “restriction on combination” is another criterion by which the morpheme vs. gesture question can be evaluated. Restriction on combination: Restrictions on phenomena can come from the requirements of the grammar, but they can also come from the interplay of two kinds of code upon their integration into one channel. More work needs to be carried out on the nature of the restrictions on gestural forms that result from the requirement that they share the same channel with linguistic forms.

7.6

Conclusions

It is unfounded to reject the idea that agreement is gestural simply because the verbs being produced are linguistic units. People can vocally gesture while 11

There do not seem to be similar restrictions on the combination of manual gesture with speech. Although speech is tightly synchronized with manual gesture – and conveys meaning which is conceptually congruent with speech – the particular forms that the manual gestures take do not appear to be constrained in any way by the specifications on form that the speech must follow. Combining two semiotic codes in one modality may raise issues for language–gesture integration that do not arise for situations where the linguistic and the gestural are carried by separate modalities.

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saying spoken lexical verbs. Signers can manually gesture while signing lexical verbs. However, the combination of gesture and speech in one channel puts restrictions on the gesture because important linguistic categorical information, like lexical tone, must be preserved. The three objections given in Section 7.2 above make reference to restrictions on the way in which pointing is carried out, and these restrictions are language particular. The fact that there are languageparticular restrictions on the way the pointing is carried out does not in itself constitute a devastating argument against the gesture proposal. The title of this chapter promises criteria for deciding what is gestural and what is morphemic in ASL linguistics. There is no checklist of necessary and sufficient conditions for membership in either category. There are, however, three continuous dimensions along which researchers can draw a line between gesture and language.12 I repeat them here: r The first is “degree of conventionalization.” How conventionalized must something be in order to be considered linguistic? r The second dimension is “site of conventionalization.” What kinds of conventions are linguistic conventions? r The third dimension is “restriction on combination.” What kinds of conditions on the combination of semiotic codes are linguistic conditions? These are not questions I have answers for, but they are the questions that should be addressed in the morpheme vs. gesture controversy in sign language linguistics. Acknowledgments This research was partially funded by grants to David McNeill from the Spencer Foundation and the National Institute of Deafness and Other Communicative Disorders. Some equipment and materials were supplied by the Language Labs and Archives at the University of Chicago. I am grateful to David McNeill, John Goldsmith, Derrick Higgins, and my “lunch group” Susan Duncan, Frank Bechter, and Barbara Luka for their wise advice and comments. Any inaccuracies are, of course, my own. References Aarons, Debra, Benjamin Bahan, Judy Kegl, and Carol Neidle. 1992. Clausal structure and a tier for grammatical marking in American Sign Language. Nordic Journal of Linguistics 15:103–142. Arnheim, Rudolf. 1969. Visual thinking. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. 12

I remain agnostic with respect to whether drawing such a line is ultimately necessary, although I believe that the effort expended in trying to draw that line is very useful for gaining a greater understanding of the nature of communicative behavior.


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Bos, Heleen. 1996. Serial verb constructions in the sign language of the Netherlands. Paper presented at the 5th International Conference on Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Research. Montreal, September. Duncan, Susan. 1998. Evidence from gesture for a conceptual nexus of action and entity. Paper presented at the Annual Conference on Conceptual Structure, Discourse, and Language, Emory University, October. Emmorey, Karen. 1999. Do signers gesture? In Gesture, speech, and sign, eds. Lynn Messing and Ruth Campbell, 133–159. New York: Oxford University Press. Fauconnier, Gilles. 1994. Mental spaces: Aspects of meaning construction in natural language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fischer, Susan and Bonnie Gough. 1978. Verbs in American Sign Language. Sign Language Studies 18:17–48. Freyd, Jennifer. 1983. Shareability: The social psychology of epistemology. Cognitive Science 7: 191–210. Kiparsky, Paul. 1982. From cyclic phonology to lexical phonology. The structure of phonological representations, I, ed. Harry van der Hulst and Norval Smith, 131– 177. Dordrecht: Foris. Kita, Sotaro. 2000. How representational gestures help speaking. In Language and gesture, ed. David McNeill, 162–185. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Klima, Edward and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Ladd, Robert. 1996. Intonational phonology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lakoff, George and Mark Johnson. 1980. Metaphors we live by. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Lakoff, George. 1987. Women, fire and dangerous things: What categories reveal about the mind. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Langacker, Ronald. 1987. Foundations of Cognitive Grammar, Vol. 1: Theoretical prerequisites. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Langacker, Ronald. 1991. Cognitive Grammar. In Linguistic theory and grammatical description, ed. Flip Droste and John Joseph, 275–306. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Liddell, Scott. 1995. Real, surrogate, and token space: Grammatical consequences in ASL. In Language, gesture, and space, eds. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 19–41. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Liddell, Scott. 1996. Spatial representation in discourse: Comparing spoken and signed language. Lingua 98:145–167. Liddell, Scott and Robert Johnson. 1989. American Sign Language: The phonological base. Sign Language Studies 64:195–277. Liddell, Scott. and Melanie Metzger. 1998. Gesture in sign language discourse. Journal of Pragmatics 30:657–697. Lillo-Martin, Diane and Edward Klima. Pointing out differences: ASL pronouns in syntactic theory. In Theoretical issues in sign language research: Vol. 1, eds. Susan Fischer and Patricia Siple, 191–210. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Marschark, Mark. 1994. Gesture and sign. Applied Psycholinguistics 15:209–236. McNeill, David. 1992. Hand and mind: What gestures reveal about thought. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. McNeill, David. 1997. Growth points cross-linguistically. In Language and conceptualization, eds. Jan Nuyts and Eric Pederson, 190–212. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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McNeill, David, Justine Cassell, and Elena Levy. 1993. Abstract deixis. Semiotica 95: 5–19. McNeill, David, Justine Cassell, and Karl-Erik McCullough. 1994. Communicative effects of speech-mismatched gestures. Research on language and social interaction 27:223–237. McNeill, David and Laura Pedelty. 1995. Right brain and gesture. In Language, gesture, and space, eds. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Meier, Richard. 1987. Elicited imitation of verb agreement in American Sign Language: Iconically or morphologically determined? Journal of Memory and Language 26:362–376. Metzger, Melanie. 1995. Constructed dialogue and constructed action in American Sign Language. In Proceedings of the Fourth National Symposium on Sign Language Research and Teaching, ed. Carol Padden. Silver Spring, MD: National Association of the Deaf. Newport, Elissa and Richard Meier. 1985. The acquisition of American Sign Language. In The crosslinguistic study of language acquisition, Vol. 1: The data, ed. Daniel Slobin. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Padden, Carol, 1988. Interaction of morphology and syntax in American Sign Language. New York: Garland. Petitto, Laura. 1987. On the autonomy of language and gesture: Evidence from the acquisition of personal pronouns in American Sign Language. Cognition 27:1–52. Poizner, Howard, Edward Klima, and Ursula Bellugi. 1987. What the hands reveal about the brain. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Taub, Sarah. 1998. Language in the body: iconicity and metaphor in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Webb, Rebecca. 1996. Linguistic features of metaphoric gestures. In Proceedings of the Workshop on the Integration of Gesture in Language and Speech, ed. Lynn Messing, 79–93. Newark, DE: University of Delaware. Woodbury, Anthony. 1987. Meaningful phonological processes: A consideration of Central Alaskan Yupik Eskimo prosody. Language 63:685–740.

8

Gesture as the substrate in the process of ASL grammaticization Terry Janzen and Barbara Shaffer

8.1

Introduction

Grammaticization is the diachronic process by which: r lexical morphemes in a language, such as nouns and verbs, develop over time into grammatical morphemes; or r morphemes less grammatical in nature, such as auxiliaries, develop into ones more grammatical, such as tense or aspect markers (Bybee et al. 1994). Thus any given grammatical item, even viewed synchronically, is understood to have an evolutionary history. The development of grammar may be traced along grammaticization pathways, with vestiges of each stage often remaining in the current grammar (Hopper 1991; Bybee et al. 1994), so that even synchronically, lexical and grammatical items that share similar form can be shown to be related. Grammaticization is thought to be a universal process; this is how grammar develops. Bybee et al. claim that this process is regular and has predictable evidence, found in the two broad categories of phonology and semantics. Semantic generalization occurs as the more lexical morpheme loses some of its specificity and, usually along with a particular construction it is found within, can be more broadly applied. Certain components of the meaning are lost when this generalization takes place.1 Regarding phonological change, grammaticizing elements and the constructions they occur in tend to undergo phonological reduction at a faster rate than lexical elements not involved in grammaticization. The ultimate source of grammaticized forms in languages is understood to be lexical. Most commonly, the source categories are nouns and verbs. Thus, the origins of numerous grammatical elements, at least for spoken languages, are former lexical items. Grammaticization is a gradual process that differs from other processes of semantic change wherein a lexical item takes on new meaning, but remains within the same lexical category, or word-formation 1

Givón (1975) introduced the term “semantic bleaching” for the loss of meaning. The exact nature of meaning change in grammaticization is debated by researchers, however. Sweetser (1988) suggests that the term “generalization” is inadequate, because while certain meanings are lost, new meanings are added. Thus, Sweetser prefers simply to refer to this phenomenon as “semantic change.”

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processes by which new lexical items are created through common phenomena such as compounding. Grammaticization concerns the evolution of grammatical elements. Investigations of grammaticization in American Sign Language (ASL) are still scarce, although Wilcox and Wilcox (1995), Janzen (1995; 1998; 1999), Wilbur (1999), and Shaffer (1999; 2000), began this study for ASL. It seems clear that similar diachronic processes do exist for signed languages, but with one essential difference that results from signed languages occurring within a visual medium, where gestures of the hands and face act as the raw material from which formalized linguistic signs emerge, and that is that gesture itself may be the substrate for the development of new grammatical material. A crucial link between gesture and more formalized linguistic units has been proposed by Armstrong et al. (1995) as lexicalization generally, but also for the gestural roots of ASL morphosyntax, which they demonstrate with two-handed signs that are themselves “sentences.” In these signs one hand acts as an agent and the other as a patient, while a gestural movement signals a pragmatic (and ultimately syntactic) relation between the two. Interestingly, the recent suggestion that mirror neurons may provide evidence of a neurophysical link between certain gestural (and observed) actions and language representation (Rizzolatti and Arbib 1998) strongly supports the idea that signed languages are not oddities, but rather that they are immensely elaborated systems in keeping with gestural origins of language altogether (see Hewes 1973).2 The link between gestures and signed language has also been discussed elsewhere. For example, researchers have addressed how formalized signs differ from gesture (Petitto 1983; 1990), how gestures rapidly conventionalize into linguistic-like units in an experimental environment (Singleton et al. 1995), and how gestures develop into fully conventionalized signs in an emerging signed language (Senghas et al. 2000). Almost invariably – with the exception of Armstrong et al. (1995) – these studies involve lexicalization rather than the development of grammatical features. The current proposal, that prelinguistic hand and facial gestures are the substrate of signed language grammatical elements, allows for the possibility that when exploring grammaticization pathways, we may look not only to the expected lexical material as the sources of newer grams,3 but to even earlier 2

3

Mirror neurons are identified as particular neurons situated in left hemispheric regions of the brain associated with Broca’s area, specifically the superior temporal sulcus, the inferior parietal lobule, and the inferior frontal gyrus. These neurons are activated both when the organism grasps an object with the hand, and when someone else is observed to grasp the object (but not when the object is observed on its own). Rizzolatti and Arbib (1998) posit that this associated grasping action and grasping recognition has contributed to language development in humans. “Gram” is the term Bybee et al. (1994) choose to refer to individual items in grammatical categories.

Gesture as the substrate in the process of ASL grammaticization

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gestures as the sources of the lexical items that eventually grammaticize. This is the case for the linguistic category of modality,4 which we illustrate by proposing that the development of ASL modals such as FUTURE, CAN, and MUST take as their ultimate source several generalized prelinguistic gestures. Topic marking, which we propose developed from an earlier yes–no question construction, also has a generalized gesture as an even earlier source. In the case of the grammaticized modals, the resulting forms can be shown to have passed through a lexical stage as might be expected. The development from gestural substrate to grammar for the topic marker, however, never does pass through a lexical stage. We conclude that for the ASL grammaticization pathways explored in this study, gesture plays the important role of providing the substrate from which grammar ultimately emerges. The evidence presented here suggests that the precursors of these modern-day ASL grammatical devices are gestural in nature, whether or not a lexical stage is intervening. Thus, the study of ASL provides new perspectives on grammaticization, in exploring both the sources of grams, and the role (or lack of role) of lexicon in the developing gram. In Section 8.2 we discuss data gathered at the start of the twentieth century. All of the diachronic discourse examples in Section 8.2 were taken from The Preservation of American Sign Language, a compilation of the early attempts to document the language on film, made available recently on videotape. All of the films in this compilation were made in or around 1913. Each shows an older signer demonstrating a fairly formal register of ASL as it was signed in 1913. Because the films are representative of monologues of only a fairly formal register, care must be taken when drawing conclusions regarding what ASL did not exhibit in 1913. In other words, while we believe it is possible to use these films to show examples of what ASL was in 1913, they cannot be used to show what ASL was not. Along with the discourse examples discussed above, we analyze features of signs produced in isolation. The isolated signs are listed in at least one of several French Sign Language (Langue de Signes Française or LSF) dictionaries from the mid-1800s, or from ASL dictionaries from the early 1900s. For those signs not taken from actual discourse contexts we are left to rely on the semantic descriptions and glosses provided by their authors. As with most dictionary images, certain features of the movement are not retrievable. We were also able to corroborate these images with the 1913 films in order to draw conclusions regarding phonological changes.5 4

5

Throughout this chapter we use the term “modality” to mean the expression of necessity and possibility; thus, the use of “modals” and such items common to the grammar systems of language, as opposed to a common meaning of “modality” in signed language research meant to address differences between signed and spoken channels of production and reception. All examples extracted from the 1913 films of ASL were translated by the authors.

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All grammaticization paths proposed in the following sections on modality involve old French Sign Language (OLSF) and modern ASL. The historic relationship between ASL and LSF is described in detail in Lane (1984), an account of the circumstances that brought OLSF to the USA.6 Woodward (1978; 1980) suggests that what is now known as American Sign Language was, in large part, formed from the lexicon and some elements of the grammar of OLSF along with an indigenous signed language in use in the northeastern USA prior to the establishment of the first school for the deaf in 1817. It is believed that before this time deaf people in the USA and Canada did have a signed communication system – at least wherever there was a critical mass – and that when the founders of the first school (one hearing American, and one deaf Frenchman) established the school and began formally instructing deaf pupils using French signs, language mixing took place. Woodward (1978) discusses the rapid linguistic changes that took place between 1817 and 1913 and suggests that such changes are characteristic of creoles. Phonological processes that contributed to numerous systematic changes in the lexicon of the resulting signed language are outlined in Frishberg (1975). The 1913 films show that by the early twentieth century this language had changed sufficiently so that in many respects, it was similar to what is used in the USA and Canada at the start of the twenty-first century, although certain differences significant to our discussion are evident. 8.2

Markers of modality

For the grammatical category of linguistic modality, the generalized path of grammaticization proposed in Shaffer (2000) and given here in (1) is: (1)

gesture → full lexical morpheme → grammatical morpheme

Markers of modality in ASL are hypothesized to have developed along similar and predictable grammaticization pathways described for modality in other languages. Bybee et al. (1991) state that grams meaning ‘future’ in all languages develop from a limited pool of lexical sources and follow similar and fairly predictable paths. Future grams may develop from auxiliary constructions with the meanings of ‘desire,’ ‘obligation,’ or ‘movement toward a goal.’ For example Bybee et al. (1994) note that English will has as its source the older English verb willen with the original meaning ‘want,’ which later came to be used to express future meanings. In modern English willen is no longer used to express ‘desire.’ English go, on the other hand, is polysemous in modern English, maintaining both ‘movement toward a goal’ and ‘future’ senses as seen in (2) below. 6

Similar relationships are said to exist between other signed languages as well. For a discussion of the historical relationships among various European signed languages, see Eriksson (1998).


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a. I am going to Dallas next week. b. I am going to be hungry when I arrive.

In (2a) going means physical movement toward a location. In (2b) however, the movement is temporal. No physical movement toward a goal is implied; thus, the form has only a future sense. This is not to suggest that ‘be going to’ can only have either physical or temporal movement in its meaning. In fact, it is exactly this type of polysemy which is hypothesized to have led to the development of the future meaning in certain constructions. Put another way, while in some constructions ‘be going to’ is used to indicate physical movement toward a goal, in other constructions only a future time reference is being indicated, and in yet other constructions both a future temporal reference and physical movement toward a goal are implied by ‘be going to.’ 8.2.1

FUTURE

We believe that ASL is among those languages whose main future gram developed from a physical ‘movement toward a goal’ source. Our claim is that the future gram in ASL, glossed here as FUTURE, developed from an older lexical sign with the meaning of ‘to go’ or ‘to leave.’7 Evidence of this sign can be found as far back as the 1850s in France where it was glossed PARTIR (Brouland 1855; Pèlissier 1856). The OLSF sign PARTIR is shown in Figure 8.1a. The form in Figure 8.1a was used as a full verb with the meaning ‘to leave.’ Note that the sign is a two-handed sign articulated just above waist level, with the dominant hand moving up to make contact with the nondominant palm. Old ASL (OASL) also shows evidence of this sign, but with one difference. The 19138 films have examples of the ASL sign GO, similar to the OLSF sign PARTIR; there are also instances of GO being signed with only one hand. Modern Italian Sign Language (Lingua Italiana dei Segni or LIS) also has this form (Paul Dudis, personal communication).9 E.A. Fay in 1913 signs the following: (3)

7 8 9 10

TWO, THREE DAY PREVIOUS E.M. GALLAUDET GO TO TOWN PHILADELPHIA10 ‘Two or three days before, (E.M.) Gallaudet had gone to Philadelphia.’

The gloss FUTURE was chosen because it is the only sense shared among the various discourse uses of the sign. WILL, for example, limits the meaning and suggests auxiliary status. All references to the 1913 data indicate filmed narratives, available currently on videotape in c The Preservation of American Sign Language, 1997, Sign Media Inc. For a discussion regarding the hypothesized relationship between ASL/LSF and other signed languages such as LIS, see Eriksson (1998). ASL signs are represented by upper case glosses. Words separated by dashes indicate single signs (e.g. TAKE-UP); PRO.n = pronouns (1s, 2s, etc.); POSS.n = possessive pronouns; letters separated by hyphens are fingerspelled words (e.g. P-R-I-C-E-L-E-S-S); plus signs indicate repeated movement (e.g. MORE+++); top = topic marking; y/n-q = yes–no

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(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

Figure 8.1a 1855 LSF PARTIR (‘to leave’); 8.1b 1855 LSF FUTUR (‘future’) (Brouland 1855; reproduced with permission.); 8.1c 1913 ASL FUTURE (McGregor, in 1997 Sign Media Inc.; reproduced with permission.); 8.1d Modern ASL FUTURE (Humphries et al. 1980; reproduced with permission)

In this context the sign GO very clearly indicates physical movement. The speaker is making a reference to a past event and states that Gallaudet had gone to Philadelphia. What is striking in this example is that GO is signed in a manner identical to the old form of FUTURE, shown in Figure 8.1b. An example of this older form of FUTURE is given in another 1913 utterance in a narrative by R. McGregor, in (4). (4)

WHEN PRO.3 UNDERSTAND CLEAR WORD WORD OUR FATHER SELF FUTURE [old form] THAT NO MORE ‘When he clearly understands the words of our father he will do that no more.’

question marking; CL = classifier; form specific notes are given below glosses for clarification of forms (e.g. CL:C(globe) ). both hands-----


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This example shows the same form as GO in (3) being used to indicate future time, suggesting that for a time a polysemous situation existed whereby the sign could be understood in certain constructions to mean ‘to go’ and in others to mean ‘future.’ Phonological reduction in the signing space is evident by this time, with the older form of the sign articulated as a large arc at the waist, with the shoulder as the primary joint involved in the movement, and the newer form, shown in Figure 8.1d, with a much shorter movement near the cheek, and with the movement having the wrist (or, at most, the elbow) as the primary joint involved. The distalization from a more proximal joint to a more distal joint in this way constitutes phonological reduction in Brentari’s (1998) model of phonology. Note the example in (5), where G. Veditz articulates both forms in the same utterance. (5)

YEAR 50 FUTURE [new form] THAT FILM FUTURE [old form] TRUE P-R-I-C-E-L-E-S-S ‘In fifty years these films will be priceless.’

In (5) FUTURE is produced twice, yet in each the articulation is markedly different. In the second instance in (5) the sign resembles FUTURE as produced by McGregor in (4), while in the first instance FUTURE is signed in a manner consistent with modern ASL FUTURE, which moves forward from the cheek. In both instances in the construction above FUTURE has no physical ‘movement toward a goal’ meaning, only a future time reference. Newer forms of grammaticizing morphemes frequently co-occur with older forms synchronically. Hopper (1991:22) describes this as “layering” in grammaticization: Within a broad functional domain, new layers are continually emerging. As this happens, the older layers are not necessarily discarded, but may remain to coexist with and interact with the newer layers.

Such layering, or co-occurring of two forms, in other words, may exist for a limited time; it is entirely possible for the older form to die out, or to continue grammaticizing in a different direction, resulting in yet a different form with another function and meaning. This has been proposed for at least some of the various forms and usages of the item FINISH in ASL in Janzen (1995). Two such polysemous forms co-occurring synchronically, for however long, often contribute to grammatical variation in a language, and this would seem to be the case for FUTURE for a time in ASL. It is remarkable, however, to see two diachronic variants occur in the same utterance, let alone the same text. In summary, then, we suggest that FUTURE in modern ASL belongs to the crosslinguistic group of future markers with a ‘movement toward a goal’ source. FUTURE began in OLSF as a full verb meaning ‘to go’ or ‘to leave.’ By 1855, GO was produced with the nondominant hand as an articulated “base” hand.

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By the start of the twentieth century, OASL contained GO as it was produced in 1855 as well as GO without the nondominant hand. Further, by 1913 a similar form, without the base hand, was used to indicate future time reference, as was a newer form, which is phonologically similar to the form used today. Note, however, that PARTIR as it was signed in 1855 also still exists in modern LSF, as does a related form commonly glossed as LET’S-GO seen in modern ASL. The sign LET’S-GO in ASL is articulated with the same handshapes as PARTIR but with a different type of contact, and slightly different movement. In this case, the palmar surfaces of the hands brush against each other, while in articulating PARTIR the thumb side of the dominant hand makes contact with the down turned palm of the nondominant hand. What we have described thus far is in keeping with grammaticization theory as proposed by Traugott (1989), Hopper (1991), Bybee et al. (1994), and others. We have described semantic and phonological changes that the morpheme FUTURE underwent as it grammaticized from a full verb to a grammatical morpheme. Here, however, we must depart from traditional grammaticization theory. We claim now that the modern ASL (and LSF) sign FUTURE has an earlier origin than the lexical sign PARTIR, namely a gesture of the same form in use in France at the time with the consistent meaning of ‘to go,’ and one we suggest was available to either deaf or nondeaf groups of language users. In fact the gesture, with several forms and several related meanings, is still in use among nonsigners in France (see Figure 8.2). It is a very common French gesture, known to most members of the French speech community and translated by Wylie (1977:17) as on se tire. Among the French, on se tire means ‘let’s go,’ or ‘let’s split.’ Further, there is evidence of this gesture as far back as classical

Figure 8.2

On Se Tire (‘go’) (Wylie 1977; reproduced with permission)


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antiquity. De Jorio notes in 1832 (translated in Kendon 2000) that evidence of a gesture indicating ‘going away’ is seen in the drawings and sketches from nineteenth-century Naples. He claims that these gestures have their roots in ancient Greek and Roman cultures. He describes it as “palm of the hand open and held edgewise, and moved upwards several times,” and notes that “this gesture indicates going away. If one wishes to indicate the path to be followed, the gesture is directed toward it” (Kendon 2000:260). What we are claiming then is that the source of FUTURE in ASL was a gesture used in France, which entered the lexicon of OLSF, and then OASL, and finally proceeded along a common grammaticization path. The resulting path is given in (6). (6)

gesture ‘to go’ > full verb ‘to go’ >grammatical morpheme ‘future’

We suggest that this progression from a generalized gesture to a gram is not isolated, but instead, gesture is in fact a common source of modern ASL lexical and grammatical morphemes. We will now discuss several other examples of gestural sources for ASL grammatical morphemes. 8.2.2

CAN

In a discussion of markers of possibility, Bybee et al. (1994) note that there are several known cases of auxiliaries predicating physical ability that come to be used to mark general ability as well.11 Two cases are cited. English may was formerly used to indicate physical ability and later came to express general ability. The second case noted is Latin potere ‘to be able,’ which is related to the adjective potens meaning ‘strong’ or ‘powerful,’ and which gives French pouvoir and Spanish poder, both meaning ‘can’ (1994:190). In modern English can is polysemous, with many agent-oriented senses ranging from uses with prototypical agents, to those with no salient agent at all. Some examples are given in (7). (7)

a. I can lift a piano. b. I can speak French. c. The party can start at eight.

In (7a) we see a physical ability sense of can. In (7b) can is used to indicate a mental ability or skill, while in (7c) we see a use of can that could be interpreted as either a root possibility (with no salient agent) or a permission reading, depending on the context in which the sentence was spoken. 11

For the purposes of this chapter the category of modal uses – including physical ability, general ability, permission, and possibility – are all described under the general heading “possibility,” since it is believed that all of these modal uses are related and all share the semantic feature of possibility.

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Discussions of grammaticization cite numerous examples of modals with strong animacy requirements on the agent generalizing over time to allow for less specific situational conditions, with no agent necessary. Bybee (1988) describes the grammaticization of English can which is shown in (8). Here we see that can began as an agent-oriented modal with a strong animacy requirement. Bybee notes that over time, however, the animacy requirement was lost in certain constructions, allowing for root possibility uses and even epistemic uses. (8)

Can predicates that: a. mental enabling conditions exist in the agent for the completion of the main predicate situation. b. (any) enabling conditions exist in the agent for the completion of the main predicate situation. c. (any) enabling conditions exist for the completion of the main predicate situation. (Bybee 1988:255)

Wilcox and Wilcox (1995) and Shaffer (2000) have suggested that a similar grammaticization path can be seen for markers of possibility in ASL. Evidence from OLSF and OASL suggests that the OLSF lexical sign POUVOIR (meaning ‘to be strong’) has grammaticized into the modern ASL sign meaning ‘can’ (see Figure 8.3) and is used in constructions to indicate physical ability, mental ability, root possibility, as well as permission and epistemic possibility. In Figure 8.3a the sign indicated is glossed POUVOIR. This we suggest was the original LSF lexical sign from which subsequent uses developed. Evidence from existing OASL sources supports the claim that CAN is a grammaticized form of a sign meaning ‘strong.’ McGregor, in a 1913 lay sermon, signs the sentences given in (9) to (11): (9)

(10) (11)

WE KNOW EACH OTHER BETTER AND WE CAN UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER BETTER AND FEEL BROTHER ‘We know each other better and are able to understand each other better and feel like brothers.’ OUR FATHER STRONG OVER MOON STARS WORLD ‘Our father is strong over the moon, and stars and world.’ SELF CAN GET-ALONG WITHOUT OUR HELP ‘He can get along without our help.’

In the above examples the sign STRONG and the sign CAN are signed in an identical manner. In (10) it is unclear whether the signer was intending a strength or ability reading. Either meaning is possible and logical in sentence (10). Further, in (10) STRONG is functioning as the main verb of the clause. This provides good evidence that the sign STRONG could be used in more than one sense and this polysemy shows the potential for ASL CAN to have developed from ‘strong.’


(a)

209

(b)

(c)

Figure 8.3a 1855 LSF POUVOIR (Brouland 1855; reproduced with permission); 8.3b 1913 ASL CAN (Hotchkiss in 1997 Sign Media Inc.; reproduced with permission); 8.3c Modern ASL CAN (Humphries et al. 1980; reproduced with permission)

Evidence from the 1913 data suggests that by the start of the twentieth century CAN had already undergone a great deal of semantic generalization from its physical strength source. The 1913 data contain examples of each of the following discourse uses of CAN: physical ability, nonphysical ability (skills, etc.) and root possibility. Example (9) shows a root possibility use of CAN where CAN is used to indicate the possibility of an event occurring. Examples of permission uses of CAN were not found in this diachronic data, nor were epistemic uses seen.12 Permission and epistemic uses are, however, seen in present day ASL. Shaffer (2000) suggests that epistemic CAN is quite new and is the result of a semantic extension from root possibility uses of CAN, 12

Bybee et al. (1994) state that epistemic modalities describe the extent to which the speaker is committed to the truth of the proposition. They posit that “the unmarked case in this domain is total commitment to the truth of the proposition, and markers of epistemic modality indicate something less than a total commitment by the speaker to the truth of the proposition” (1994:179). De Haan (1999), by contrast, defines epistemic modality as an evaluation of evidence on the basis of which a confidence measure is assigned. An epistemic modal will be used to reflect this degree of confidence.

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in conjunction with its sentence-final placement and concomitant nonmanual marking. Shaffer (2000) suggests the following path for modern ASL CAN, seen in (12): (12)

gesture ‘strong’ > lexical ‘strong’ > grammatical morpheme ‘can’ > epistemic ‘can’

While there is abundant crosslinguistic evidence to support a claim that the core marker of possibility in ASL developed from a lexical sign with the meaning ‘strong’ or ‘power,’ the claim we make here is that POUVOIR, the lexical sign, does not represent the ultimate source of the grammaticization path described. Instead, we claim that POUVOIR entered the LSF lexicon as a gesture. ‘Strong’ in OLSF, OASL, and modern ASL is highly iconic, the very gesture nonsigners might use to visually represent physical strength. Our proposal is that a ritualized gesture in use among signers and nonsigners alike entered the lexicon of OLSF, and then grammaticized to indicate any kind of ability, both physical and nonphysical. It then generalized further to be used to indicate permission, and even epistemic possibility in ASL. 8.2.3

MUST

Turning to ASL MUST, Shaffer (2000) posits another gestural source, namely a deictic pointing gesture indicating monetary debt. While Shaffer (2000) found no diachronic evidence of such a gesture with that specific meaning, informal experimentation with nonsigning English speakers did produce multiple instances of this gesture. Adults were asked to indicate to another that money was owed. Each person who attempted to gesture monetary debt used exactly this gesture: a pointing at the open extended hand. Bybee et al. (1994) cite numerous cases of verbs indicating monetary debt generalizing to indicate general obligation. De Jorio (1832, in Kendon 2000) finds evidence of a pointing gesture used as far back as classical antiquity (and nineteenth-century Naples) to indicate ‘in this place’ and notes that it can express ‘insistence.’ Kendon also states that the index finger extended and directed to some object is used to point out that object. Further he finds evidence in nineteenth-century Naples of the flat upturned hand being used to indicate “a request for a material object” (Kendon 2000:128). What we claim here is that such a gesture existed in nineteenthcentury France and could be used to indicate monetary debt (for a discussion of pointing gestures and their relation to cognition in nonhuman primates, and their place in the evolution of language for humans, see Blake 2000). This pointing gesture entered the lexicon by way of OLSF as a verb indicating monetary debt, glossed as DEVOIR, then underwent semantic generalization that resulted in uses where no monetary debt was intended, just a general sense


(a)

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(b)

(c)

Figure 8.4a 1855 LSF IL-FAUT (‘it is necessary’) (Brouland 1855; reproduced with permission); 8.4b 1913 ASL OWE (Hotchkiss in 1997 Sign Media Inc.; reproduced with permission); 8.4c Modern ASL MUST (Humphries et al. 1980; reproduced with permission)

of ‘owing,’ shown in Figure 8.4. It is interesting to note also a parallel in spoken French in the mid-1800s and continuing today where devoir was used in constructions to express both monetary debt and obligation. Further phonological reduction, which resulted in uses without the base handshape, led to the development of a form meaning general necessity in LSF (with variations glossed IL-FAUT ‘it is necessary’ (Brouland 1855) and DEVOIR ‘should’ (Pèlissier 1856), and subsequently to the development of modern ASL MUST. The grammaticization path suggested for MUST is given in (13). (13)

gesture ‘owe’ > OLSF verb ‘owe’ > LSF/ASL ‘must,’ ‘should’ > epistemic ‘should’

The 1913 data suggest that by the start of the twentieth century the ASL sign OWE (the counterpart to the OLSF sign with the same meaning) was still

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in use, with and without a financial component to its meaning. MUST was also in use, with discourse uses ranging from participant external obligation and advisability, to participant internal obligation and advisability. Uses with deontic, or authoritative sources were also seen. Epistemic uses of MUST were not seen in the diachronic data, but are fairly common in modern ASL (for a more detailed description, see Shaffer 2000). In summary, this look at the grammaticization of FUTURE, MUST, and CAN in ASL traces their sources to the point where gesture enters the lexicon. FUTURE, MUST, and CAN, we argue, each have gestural sources which, through frequent use and ritualization, led to the development of lexical morphemes, then – following standard grammaticization processes – to the development of grammatical morphemes indicating modal notions. Shaffer (2000) suggests gestural sources for other ASL modals, such as CAN’T, and Wilcox and Wilcox (1995) hypothesize gestural origins for markers of evidentiality (SEEM, FEEL, OBVIOUS) in ASL as well. 8.3

The grammaticization of topic

As we have seen, several grammaticization paths can be described for ASL which follow conventional thinking regarding the development of modal meaning in language, except for the important links described here to the ultimate sources of the lexical items being grammaticized. For ASL these sources are prelinguistic gestures. Here we present an additional grammaticization pathway that also begins with a gesture and results in a highly grammaticized functional category, that of topic marking. The significant difference, however, between the grammaticization pathways described above and the one proposed for topics is that the path leading to the ASL topic marker appears not to include any stage where an identifiable lexical word has conventionalized from the gestural source. Unlike the modal pathway no lexical word intervenes between this gestural source and the final grammatical item. The pathway proposed, adapted from Janzen (1998), is given in (14). (14)

communicative yes–no pragmatic syntactic textual questioning > questions > domain > domain > domain gesture topics topics topics

This pathway shows that a plausible gestural origin developed into several functional categories that have retained their grammatical function by the process of layering (compare Hopper 1991) over an extended period of time. Below we discuss each stage along this grammaticization pathway, beginning with the original gesture we believe developed the grammatical functions of yes–no question marking, which was then followed by topic marking.


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The communicative questioning gesture

The gesture proposed as the origin of the yes–no question marker, and eventual topic marker, is an eyebrow raise. Quite conceivably, when accompanied by deliberate eye contact with someone the gesturer intends to communicate with, this gesture suggests an openness to communicative interaction. In other words, the gesture invites interaction by displaying an interest in interaction. The eyebrow raise, under the right circumstances, might invite a response to an obvious query about something. In fact, in modern North American society, holding an item in one’s hand, such as a drink, and lifting it up while gesturing to a friend by raising the eyebrows, and perhaps nodding the head toward the friend, is easily recognizable as Do you want a drink? This iconic gesture, then, is seen as a motivated choice co-opted into the conventionalized, but still gestural, language system of ASL. As a conventionalized signal, the gesture may show some universality: the identical brow raise along with a forward head tilt marks yes–no questions not only for ASL, but for British Sign Language (Woll 1981), Sign Language of the Netherlands (Coerts 1990) and Swedish Sign Language (Bergman 1984), to name a few. The ease of understanding of such a signal might mean that it is a good candidate as an effective communication strategy, and thus a plausible beginning point from which to build more complex and symbolic constructions. Its conventionalization in yes–no constructions in ASL would suggest that this is the case. 8.3.2

Yes–no questions

The effectiveness of a communication strategy is likely to lead to its repetition, and once ritualized (compare Haiman 1994), it can become obligatory. Raised eyebrows has thus become the obligatory yes–no question marker in ASL, usually along with a forward head tilt, although the appearance of this accompanying gesture seems less obligatory (Baker and Cokely 1980; Liddell 1980). In an ASL yes–no question, the entire proposition being questioned is accompanied temporally by raised eyebrows (and again the less obligatory, but frequent, forward head tilt) and continuous gaze at the addressee. A pause following the question is common, with the final sign of the question held until a response from the addressee begins. An alternation in word order to indicate the question does not take place. Examples are given in (15) and (16). (15)

(16)

y/n-q FINISH SEE MOVIE PRO.2 ‘Did you already see that movie?’ y/n-q SEE PRO.1 PRO.2 ‘Did you see me?’

(Baker and Cokely 1980:124)

(Janzen 1998:93)

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The prelinguistic raised-eyebrow gesture may not itself be particularly meaning specific, but pragmatic considerations surrounding the communicative interchange would contribute to its being inferred as a gesture indicating interest or intentness, or that some information is being solicited, akin to a question being asked. This prelinguistic gesture – available to both deaf and nondeaf communities in North America – is also used as a grammatical yes–no question marker in ASL, however. In this grammatical context it is specific in meaning, marking any string as a yes–no question. Thus a prelinguistic gesture has been recruited as a grammatical marker, and it would be difficult to claim that either is a lexical item in the sense of a content word. In this case, it appears that a grammatical marker, albeit a rather iconic one, takes as its source a more general communicative gesture, with no lexical word developing or intervening at this stage of grammatical development or later, as discussed in Sections 8.3.3 and 8.3.4. 8.3.3

From yes–no questions to topic marking

Topics in ASL essentially take the form of yes–no questions, but function very differently from true yes–no questions in discourse. It is not uncommon crosslinguistically for yes–no question marking and topic marking to employ the same morphological marker. In Hua, for example, a Papua New Guinean language, both yes–no questions and topics are marked by the morpheme -ve (Haiman 1978), as shown in (17). (17)

-si -ve baigu -e13 a. E come 3sg.fut int will stay 1sg ‘Will he come? I will stay.’ b. Dgai -mo -ve baigu -e I (emph) c.p. -top will stay 1sg ‘As for me, I will stay.’

For ASL this polysemy is also apparent in the similar eye-brow-raise for both yes–no questions and topics, and ASL topic marking may be seen as representing a later stage of grammatical development along this pathway. The same gesture of raised eyebrows that marks yes–no questions indicates a topic in ASL, but rather than a forward head tilt, the head may optionally tilt backward.14 This in itself is worthy of note. Whereas the forward head tilt in a yes–no question invites a response, and is highly interactive in design, the topic-marked 13

14

From Haiman (1978:570–71), his examples (2b) and (21). int is the interrogative marker; c.p. in (17b) is a connective particle in Haiman’s notation. Haiman also makes the point that conditionals in Hua, as in a number of languages, are marked similarly, but details of this are beyond the present discussion. The backward head tilt is frequently thought to obligatorily accompany the raised eyebrow marker for topics in ASL, but Janzen (1998) notes that in running discourse this is not the case.


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construction retains the form of a yes–no question, but the backward head tilt may be thought of as an iconic gesture away from any real invitation to respond. The signer does not wish for any response to the “question” form: the addressee must read this construction not as a question in its truest interactive sense, but as providing a ground for some ensuing piece of discourse on the part of the signer, or as a “pivot” linking some shared or presupposed information to something new. In other words, it is a grammatical marker signaling a type of information (or information structuring), and not a questioning cue. Along a similar vein, Wilbur and Patschke (1999) suggest that the forward head tilt of yes–no questions indicates inclusiveness for the addressee, whereas a backward tilt signals an intent to exclude the addressee from the discourse. Examples of topic marking in running discourse, taken from the monologue texts in Janzen (1998), are given in (18) and (19). top (18) a. WORLD CL:C(globe) MANY DIFFERENT++ LANGUAGE PRO.3+++15

both hands-----

on ‘globe’

‘There are many different languages in all parts of the world.’ b. LANGUAGE OVER 5000 PRO.3+++ MUCH both hands

c.

d.

e.

(19)

15

16 17

a.

‘There are over five thousand languages in the world.’ FIND+++ SAME CHARACTERISTIC FIND+++ LIST ‘(In these languages we) find many of the same characteristics.’ top PEOPLE TAKE-ADVANTAGE lh-[PRO.3]LANGUAGE COMMUNICATE MINGLE DISCOURSE COMMUNICATE PRO.3 ‘People make use of this language for communicating and socializing.’ top OTHER COMMUNICATE SKILL lh-[PRO.3] LITTLE-BIT DIFFERENT PRO.3-pl.alt16 ‘Other kinds of communication are a little different from language.’ top TRAIN ARRIVE(extended movement, fingers wiggle) T-H-E P-A-S CL:bent V(get off vehicle) ‘The train eventually arrived at The Pas, and (we) got off.’17

PRO.3 here is an indexical point to the location of the classifier structure in the sentence. Whether these points are best analyzed as locative (‘there’), demonstrative (‘that’), or pronouns ‘it,’ ‘them,’ etc.) is not clear, but for these glosses, they will all be given as PRO.3. pl.alt indicates that this sign is articulated with both hands (thus plural) and has an alternating indexing movement (to two different points in space). The Pas is a town in Manitoba, Canada.

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top b. OTHER TRAIN pause T-H-E P-A-Sc TO L-Y-N-N L-A-K-Ed PRO.3(c upward to d) ‘and took another train north from The Pas to Lynn Lake.’ c. THAT MONDAY WEDNESDAY FRIDAY SOMETHING THAT PRO.3 CL:A (travelc to d to c )18 THAT ‘That train runs Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays – something like that.’ top d. 1,3.dual.excl CHANGE CL:bent V(get on vehicle) TRAIN ‘We (the two of us) changed trains,’ e. ARRIVE C-R-A-N-B-E-R-R-Y P-O-R-T-A-G-E ‘and arrived at Cranberry Portage.’ top f. CL:bent V(get off vehicle) TAKE-UP DRIVE GO-TO FLIN-FLON ‘(We) got off (the train), and took a car to Flin-Flon.’ As these discourse segments show, the topic-marked constituent may be nominal or clausal (other elements, such as temporal adverbials, are also frequently topic-marked). They have the same formal marking as do yes–no questions,19 but the function of this construction in the discourse is very different. The construction is emancipated from the interactive function of yes–no questions, and has assumed a further grammatical function. The marker now indicates a relationship between parts of the discourse text, that is, how one piece of information relates to the next. As mentioned, the topic-marked constituent has a grounding or “pivot” function in the text. In the grammaticization path given in (14) above, “syntactic domain topics” are suggested as a later stage than “pragmatic domain topics.” While the details of this differentiation are not addressed here (see Janzen 1998; 1999), it is thought that information from the interlocutors’ shared world of experience is available to them as participants in a current discourse event before information that arises out of the discourse event itself becomes available as shared information. Essentially, however, marked topics that draw presupposed information from interlocutors’ shared world of experience or from prior mention in the discourse are marked in the same manner. The only difference – and one that causes some potential confusion for sentence analysis – is that topic-marked 18 19

This classifier form is similar to what is often glossed as COMMUTE, with an “A” handshape moving vertically from locus “c” to “d” to “c,” and with the thumb remaining upward. Once again, the backward head tilt is not an obligatory part of the construction. In these texts, it appears occasionally, but not consistently, and thus is not considered a necessary structural element to differentiate the two functions.


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constituents that arise out of shared pragmatic experience enter the discourse as “new” information to that discourse event but consist of “given” information pragmatically, whereas topic-marked constituents that are anaphoric to previous mention are both “given” by virtue of the previous mention and because the information, once mentioned, has entered the shared world of experience (Janzen 1998). Thus the “given–new” dichotomy is not quite so simple. The gestural eyebrow raise in these grammaticized cases of topic marking does not mark the full range of yes–no question possibilities for actual yes–no questions, but only one: do you know X? Notice, however, that even though this may suggest that the construction described here as a topic may still appear to be very question-like, it clearly does not function in this way. Consider the functional practicality of such “questions” as those posed in (20), with (20a) and (20b) drawing on the discourse text example in (18a) and (18d), and (20c) and (20d) from (19d) and (19f) above: (20)

a. b. c. d.

Do you know ‘the world’? Do you know ‘people’? Do you know ‘the two of us’? Do you know ‘the act of getting off the train’?

These are not yes–no questions that make any communicative sense in their discourse context. Rather, they are grammaticized constructions with the same morphological marking as yes–no questions in ASL, but with different grammatical function. In these cases, the topic-marked constituents (e.g. ‘the world’ or ‘the two of us’) are clearly grounding information for the new information that follows within the sentence. 8.3.4

Textual domain topics: A further grammaticization step

The most highly grammaticized use of topic marking appears in ASL not as marking constituents containing shared information, but as grammatical discourse markers. While the pragmatic and syntactic domain topics relate relevant pieces of presupposed and new information in the text, we propose that the construction form along with its associated topic marking has further grammaticized to have a textual cohesion-marking function, following the semantic– pragmatic change that Traugott (1989) suggests as propositional > textual (or > expressive). Here it is proposed that the primary motivation for this grammaticized function is the topic as a discourse pivot. In this further development the “shared-information–new-information-linking function” of the topic has been lost. Examples (21) to (24) below show that what is marked with the topic marker is not at all information from interlocutors’ world of experience, nor anything previously mentioned in the text, but is instead information about text construction itself.

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(21)

WHAT’S-UP GO-TOa RESTAURANT EAT+++ top top BE-FINISHED, TAKE-ADVANTAGE SEE TRAIN ARRIVE20 ‘So then, we went to a restaurant, ate, and then got to see the train arrive.’ top PRO.1 lh: [PRO.3] POSS.1 GOOD-FRIEND PRO.3 SAY PRO.3 top ALCOHOL IN WHY lh:[POSS.3] MOTHER PREVIOUS WORK ALCOHOL STORE ‘(I . . .) my best friend said she knew there was alcohol in it because her mother had worked in a liquor store before.’ top a. FIRST, P-H-O-N-E-M-I-C S-H-A-D-O-W-I-N-G (. . .) ‘The first (exercise) is called “Phonemic Shadowing”. (. . .)’ top b. NEXT SECOND, P-H-R-A-S-E S-H-A-D-O-W-I-N-G (. . .) ‘The next one is “Phrase Shadowing”. (. . .)’

(22)

(23)

In (21) and (22) the topic-marked connective acts as a discourse pivot, and can hardly be called a “topic” at this point, given its grammatical function (however, for an alternate description of elements such as WHY in (22) as WH-clefts, see Wilbur 1996). In (23), similarly, the pivot is an overt ordering device in the discourse. As mentioned, information about the world is not a factor here, but predictable text organization is. Thus, once again the same grammatical morpheme as in the yes–no question and in the more prototypical topic appears, but not to mark topical information in the discourse. Instead, the phrase marked with this eyebrow raise functions in an analogous way to the pivot function of the more prototypical, information-bearing topic, grounding, in effect, what comes next in the discourse. The addressee in these cases is assumed to be fluent in such ASL discourse strategies: the shared information is now about text structure. Thus, this grammatical use of the brow raise gesture has arisen – likely as an analog of the whole construction functioning as a discourse pivot – having been emancipated first from the interactive function that a yes–no question has and, second, abstracting away from the type of information contained in the topic-marked constituent. The result is a construction very similar in form, but one that is a grammatical text-cohesion device. The grammaticization cline moves from a more discourse-participant interactive focus, to a grammatical 20

BE-FINISHED is glossed as this based on its grammaticization from a stative construction (Janzen 1995). Note also the brow raise topic marker clause-finally in (21). This type of construction occurs frequently in natural ASL discourse, but is not discussed here.


219

device concerning the organization of information within a (potentially) single signer’s text, to a text-cohesion marker that has to do with text structure without regard to the specific information in the mind of the signer. Historically, there is little recorded evidence to suggest when these grammaticized stages appeared in ASL, but by the time of some of the earliest recorded texts, 1913, this text-cohesion function was already in use. Example (24), taken from the 1913 J. Hotchkiss text, shows this marker on an event ordering construction, similar to (23) above. (24)

top . . . HELP IN TWO WAY+ FIRST LEAD POSS.3 WALK++ . . . ‘. . . helped in two ways, first, by leading him (on his) walk . . .’

Other examples, both of this type and of the connective type, are contained in the 1913 ASL texts. The examination of this grammaticization cline shows that, for whatever reason, at least when linguistic conditions are apparent a lexical stage along the pathway is not required for the grammaticization of an item. Whether or not the language modality (signed gestures as opposed to vocal gestures) is the primary factor that allows this phenomenon to occur is open to question, but the fact that gestures of the hands and face are of the same medium as linguistic signals may be significant in the development from gesture to grammatical material here. 8.4

Conclusions

Grammaticization processes for spoken languages are understood to be systematic and pervasive. Diachronic research in the last few decades has brought to light a vast array of grammatical constructions for which earlier lexical forms can be shown as their source. The systematicity for grammaticizing functions is such that, in many languages, polysemous grammatical and lexical items can be taken to be evidence of grammaticization, even in the absence of detailed diachronic evidence. Grammaticization studies on signed languages are rare, but the examples we have outlined show the potential for signed languages to develop in a manner similar to spoken languages in this respect. In other words, how would grammatical categories in a signed language emerge, except by the very same processes? The pursuit of language universals that include both signed and spoken languages is in some senses hampered by differences between vocal and signed linguistic gestures, and while even the reality of structural universals has come under question of late (see, for example, Croft 2001), it is thought by some (Bybee and Dahl 1989; Bybee et al. 1994; Bybee 2001) that real language universals are universals of language change. In this regard, grammaticization

220


processes in ASL offer significant evidence that crosses the boundary between spoken and signed languages. A further advantage to studying grammaticization in a signed language, however, may be that it offers a unique look at language change. What are commonly thought of as “gestures” – that is, nonlinguistic but communicative gestures of the hands and face – are of the same neuromuscular substrate as are the linguistic, fully conventionalized signs of ASL (Armstrong et al. 1995). Several studies have shown that components of generalized, nonlinguistic gesturing are evident in ASL in the phonetic inventory (e.g. Janzen 1997), the routinized lexicon (Shaffer 2000), and in syntactic and morphosyntactic relations (Armstrong et al. 1995). The present study, however, shows that the role that gesture plays in the development of grammatical morphemes is also critical, and not opaque when viewed through the lens of grammaticization principles. This study offers something unique to grammaticization theory as well, for two reasons. First, it is interesting to see the process of gesture > lexical form > grammatical form as illustrated by the development of modals in ASL. Not only can we see grammatical forms arise, but also lexical forms as an intermediate stage in the whole process. Second, we have seen an instance of grammatical form arising not by way of any identifiable lexical form, but directly from a more generalized gestural source. This does not cast doubt on the crucial and pervasive role that lexical items do play in the development of grammar, but suggests that, under the right circumstances, this diachronic stage may be bypassed. How this might take place, and what the conditions for such grammaticization phenomena are, have yet to be explored. In addition, there is great potential for studying the development of numerous modals, auxiliary forms, and other grammatical elements in ASL and other signed languages. Acknowledgments Portions of this paper were first presented at the 26th Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistic Society. We wish to thank Sherman Wilcox, Barbara O’Dea, Joan Bybee, participants at the Texas Linguistic Society 2000 conference and the reviewers of this book for their comments. We wish to acknowledge support from SSHRC (Canada) Grant No. 752–95–1215 to Terry Janzen. 8.5

References

Armstrong, David F., William C. Stokoe, and Sherman E. Wilcox. 1995. Gesture and the nature of language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baker, Charlotte, and Dennis Cokely. 1980. American Sign Language: A teacher’s resource text on grammar and culture. Silver Spring, MD: T.J. Publishers. Bergman, Brita. 1984. Non-manual components of signed language: Some sentence


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types in Swedish Sign Language. In Recent research on European sign languages, ed. Filip Loncke, Penny Boyes-Braem, and Yvan Lebrun,49–59. Lisse: Swets & Zeitlinger B.V. Blake, Joanna. 2000. Routes to child language: Evolutionary and developmental precursors. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Brentari, Diane. 1998. A prosodic model of sign language phonology. Cambridge: MIT Press. Brouland, Josephine. 1855. Language mimique: Spécimen d’un dictionaire des signes. Gallaudet Archives. Bybee, Joan L. 1988. Semantic substance vs. contrast in the development of grammatical meaning. In Proceedings of the fourteenth annual meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, 247–264. Bybee, Joan L. 2001. Phonology and language use. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ¨ Bybee, Joan L., and Osten Dahl. 1989. The creation of tense and aspect systems in the languages of the world. Studies in Language 13:51–103. Bybee, Joan L., William Pagliuca, and Revere Perkins. 1991. Back to the future. In Approaches to grammaticalization, Vol. II: Focus on the types of grammatical markers, ed. Elizabeth Closs Traugott and Bernd Heine, 17–58. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Bybee, Joan, Revere Perkins, and William Pagliuca. 1994. The evolution of grammar: Tense, aspect and modality in the languages of the world. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Coerts, Jane. 1990. The analysis of interrogatives and negations in Sign Language of the Netherlands. In Current trends in European sign language research: Proceedings of the 3r d European Congress on Sign Language Research, ed. Siegmund Prillwitz and Tomas Vollhaber, 265–277. Hamburg: Signum-Verlag. Croft, William. 2001. Radical construction grammar: Syntactic theory in typological perspective. Oxford: Oxford University Press. de Haan, Ferdinand. 1999. Evidentiality and epistemic modality: Setting boundaries. Southwest Journal of Linguistics 18:83–101. ¨ Eriksson, Per. 1998. The history of deaf people: A source book. Orebro, Sweden: National Swedish Agency for Special Education. Frishberg, Nancy. 1975. Arbitrariness and iconicity: Historical change in American Sign Language. Language 51:696–719. Givón, Talmy. 1975. Serial verbs and syntactic change: Niger-Congo. In Word order and word order change, ed. Charles Li, 47–112. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Haiman, John. 1978. Conditionals are topics. Language 54:564–589. Haiman, John. 1994. Ritualization and the development of language. In Perspectives on grammaticalization, ed. William Pagliuca, 3–28. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Hewes, Gordon W. 1973. Primate communication and the gestural origin of language. Cultural Anthropology 14:5–24. Hopper, Paul. 1991. On some principles of grammaticization. In Approaches to grammaticalization, Vol. I: Focus on theoretical and methodological issues, ed. Elizabeth Closs Traugott and Bernd Heine, 149–187. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Humphries, Tom, Carol Padden, and Terence O’Rourke. 1980. A basic course in American Sign Language. Silver Spring, MD: T.J. Publishers.

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Janzen, Terry. 1995. The polygrammaticalization of FINISH in ASL. Manuscript, University of Manitoba, Winnipeg. Janzen, Terry. 1997. Phonological access to cognitive representation. Paper presented at 5th International Cognitive Linguistics Conference, July, Amsterdam. Janzen, Terry. 1998. Topicality in ASL: Information ordering, constituent structure, and the function of topic marking. Ph.D. Dissertation, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM. Janzen, Terry. 1999. The grammaticization of topics in American Sign Language. Studies in Language 23:271–306. Kendon, Adam. 2000. Gesture in Naples and gesture in classical antiquity: A translation of Andrea de Jorio’s La mimica degli antichi investigata nel gestire napoletano. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Lane, Harlan. 1984. When the mind hears: A history of the deaf. New York: Random House. Liddell, Scott K. 1980. American Sign Language syntax. The Hague: Mouton. Pèlissier, P. 1856. Iconographie des signes. Paris: Imprimerie et Librarie de Paul Dupont. Petitto, Laura A. 1983. From gesture to symbol: The relation between form and meaning in the acquisition of personal pronouns in American Sign Language. Papers and reports on child language development 22:100–127. Petitto, Laura A. 1990. The transition from gesture to symbol in American Sign Language. In From gesture to language in hearing and deaf children, ed. V. Volterra and C. J. Erting, 153–161. Berlin: Springer-Verlag. Rizzolatti, Giacomo and Michael A. Arbib. 1998. Language within our grasp. Trends in Neuroscience 21:188–194. Senghas, Ann, Asli Ozyurek, and Sotaro Kita. 2000. Encoding motion events in an emerging sign language: From Nicaraguan gestures to Nicaraguan signs. Paper presented at the 7th Conference on Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Research, July, Amsterdam. Shaffer, Barbara. 1999. Synchronic and diachronic perspectives on negative modals in ASL. Paper presented at the 2nd Annual High Desert Linguistic Society Conference, March, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM. Shaffer, Barbara. 2000. A syntactic, pragmatic analysis of the expression of necessity and possibility in American Sign Language. Ph.D. Dissertation, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM. Singleton, Jenny, Susan Goldin-Meadow, and David McNeill. 1995. The cataclysmic break between gesticulation and sign: Evidence against a unified continuum of gestural communication. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 287–311. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Sweetser, Eve. 1988. Grammaticalization and semantic bleaching. In Proceedings of the fourteenth annual meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, 389–405. Traugott, Elizabeth Closs. 1989. On the rise of epistemic meanings in English: An example of subjectification in semantic change. Language 65:31–55. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 1996. Evidence for the function and structure of wh-clefts in American Sign Language. In International review of sign linguistics, Vol. 1, ed. William H. Edmondson and Ronnie. B. Wilbur, 209–256. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.


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9

A crosslinguistic examination of the lexicons of four signed languages Anne-Marie P. Guerra Currie, Richard P. Meier, and Keith Walters

9.1

Introduction

Crosslinguistic and crossmodality research has proven to be crucial in understanding the nature of language. In this chapter we seek to contribute to crosslinguistic sign language research and discuss how this research intersects with comparisons across spoken languages. Our point of departure is a series of three pair-wise comparisons between elicited samples of the vocabularies of Mexican Sign Language (la Lengua de Señas Mexicana or LSM) and French Sign Language (la Langue des Signes Française or LSF), Spanish Sign Language (la Lengua de Signos Española or LSE), and Japanese Sign Language (Nihon Syuwa or NS). We examine the extent to which these sample vocabularies resemble each other. Writing about “sound–meaning resemblances” across spoken languages, Greenberg (1957:37) posits that such resemblances are due to four types of causes. Two are historical: genetic relationship and borrowing. The other two are connected to nonhistorical factors: chance and shared symbolism, which we here use to mean that a pair of words happens to share the same motivation, whether iconic or indexic. These four causes are likely to apply to sign languages as well, although – as we point out below – a genetic linguistic relationship may not be the most appropriate account of the development of three of the sign languages discussed in this chapter: LSF, LSM, and LSE. The history of deaf education through the medium of signs in Mexico sheds light on why the three specific pair-wise comparisons that form the basis of this study are informative. Organized deaf education was attempted as early as April 15, 1861, when President Benito Juárez and Minister Ignacio Ram´ırez issued a public education law that called for the establishment of a school for the deaf in Mexico City and expressed clear intentions to establish similar schools throughout the Republic (Sierra 1934). Eduardo Huet, a deaf Frenchman educated in Paris who had previously established and directed a school for the deaf in Brazil, learned of the new public school initiative and decided to travel to Mexico. He arrived in Mexico City in 1866, and soon after established a school for the deaf (Sierra 1934). We assume that LSF in some form was at least initially used as the medium of instruction there, or heavily influenced the 224

The lexicons of four signed languages

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medium of instruction. LSF was therefore an available source of borrowing for what was eventually to become LSM. It is likely that before Huet established the Mexico City school (and even well after that time), the deaf in Mexico used home signs. Moreover, indigenous sign languages may well have been in existence.1 If either of these scenarios is true, the home sign systems or one or more of the indigenous sign languages may have come into contact with the sign language used as a medium of instruction at La Escuela Nacional de Sordomudos (The National School for Deaf-Mutes).2 To date, we do not know definitively if another sign language was in existence in Mexico City at the time Huet arrived, nor do we know if the deaf were largely isolated from each other or if they had already established communities among themselves. However, once the school was established, deaf people were brought together for educational purposes, a situation that likely fostered the development of social networks and communities among the deaf to a degree and in ways previously unknown. This situation would also have created the sociolinguistic conditions to support the development of a conventionalized sign language with LSF available as one of the sources for vocabulary. In this chapter we compare a small sample of LSM vocabulary with counterpart signs in three other signed languages: LSF, LSE, and NS. The LSM–LSF comparison offers an informative perspective inasmuch as these two languages share a historical link through deaf education, as detailed above. The LSM– LSE comparison allows us to consider the degree to which the cultural, historical, and linguistic ties shared by the dominant Spanish-speaking cultures of Mexico and its former colonial power, Spain, manifest themselves in the two signed languages. This comparison enables us to evaluate the evidence for the common assumption that Mexican Sign Language and Spanish Sign Language are, or must be, closely related because of the cultural traits – including the widespread use of spoken and written Spanish – that Mexico and Spain share. Just as important as comparisons between languages that have known linguistic and educational connections are comparisons between languages that have very distinct histories. Japanese Sign Language (NS) is not related to LSM in the ways that LSF and LSE are known to be. Unlike LSF, NS has no known 1

2

Smith Stark (1990:7, 52) confirms the existence of home signs in Mexico City and states that there were other manual languages in existence among communities with a high frequency of deaf members, such as a community of potters near the Texas–Mexico border and Chican, a Yucatec community. Johnson (1991) reports an indigenous sign language used in a Mayan community in the Yucatan. However, it is not clear if these sign languages existed in 1866 or what the nature of those communities might have been at that time. Similarly, in the USA sign languages extant prior to the arrival on these shores of French Sign Language were likely contributors to the development of ASL. In particular, the sign language that had developed on Martha’s Vineyard was a probable contributor to ASL (Groce 1985).

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historical link to LSM through deaf education. Nor would we expect NS to be influenced by the cultural history shared by Mexico and Spain or the dominance of written and spoken Spanish in these two countries. For these reasons, the LSM–NS comparison presents an opportunity to assess the degree of similarity between two unrelated signed languages. Thus, each of these pairwise comparisons provides unique insights into the roles various factors play in contributing to similarity in the lexicons of signed languages. 9.2

Methodology

The LSM data come from dissertation fieldwork (Guerra Currie 1999) conducted by the first author in Mexico City and in Aguascalientes, a city some 300 miles northeast of Mexico City. Six fluent Deaf signers were consulted: the three consultants in Aguascalientes were all first-generation deaf, whereas the three consultants from Mexico City were all second- or third-generation deaf signers. The videotaped data used in the analyses reported here were elicited using two commercially available sets of flash cards (Palabras basicas representadas por dibujos 1993, Product No. T-1668, and Mas palabras representadas por dibujos 1994, Product No. T-1683, TREND Enterprises, Inc. St. Paul, MN). This data set was augmented by vocabulary drawn from Bickford (1991), and a few lexical items that occurred spontaneously in conversation between native signers. To elicit LSM vocabulary, the consultants were shown the set of flash cards; most contained a picture that illustrated the meaning of the accompanying Spanish word. The LSM data comprise 190 signs elicited from each of the three Mexico City consultants and 115 signs elicited from each of the three Aguascalientes consultants; thus, a total of 915 LSM sign tokens were examined. The vocabulary items that were examined consist predominately of common nouns drawn from the basic or core vocabulary in such categories as foods, flora and fauna, modes of transportation, household objects, articles of clothing, calendrical expressions, professions, kinship terms, wh-words and phrases, and simple emotions. We did not examine number signs, because the likely similarity of signs such as ONE or FIVE would lead to overestimates of the similarities in the lexicons of different signed languages. Likewise, we chose not to elicit signs for body part signs and personal pronouns (Woodward 1978; McKee and Kennedy 2000). Other sources for the analysis presented here include videotapings of elicited vocabulary from LSF, LSE, and NS.3 The consultants for LSE and NS were 3

The first author is greatly indebted to Chris Miller for collecting the LSF data while in France, to Amanda Holzrichter for sharing data from her dissertation corpus (Holzrichter 2000), which she collected while in Spain, and to Daisuke Sasaki for collecting the NS data while doing research at Gallaudet University. There may be particularly significant dialect variation across Spain in its signed language (or languages). The LSE data reported here were collected in Valencia.


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Do the sign tokens under consideration share the same meaning?

YES

NO The tokens for this sign are not considered in this investigation

Do the tokens share the same values on at least two of the three major parameters of sign formation?

YES

NO

Similarly-articulated signs

Distinctly-articulated signs

Figure 9.1

Decision tree for classification of sign tokens in corpus

shown the same set of flash cards as was used with the LSM consultants.4 The LSF consultant was simply shown a set of written French words corresponding to those on the Spanish language flashcards. LSE, LSF, and NS counterparts were not elicited for all the LSM signs in our data set; thus, the LSM data are compared to 112 LSF signs, 89 LSE signs, and 166 NS signs. In our analysis of these data, signs from different sign languages were identified as “similarly-articulated” if those signs shared approximately the same meaning and the same values on any two of the three major parameters of handshape, movement, and place of articulation. A subset of similarly-articulated signs includes those signs that are articulated similarly or identically on all three major parameters; these are called “equivalent variants.” Figure 9.1 steps the reader through the process of how the pairs of signs were categorized. Several examples help to clarify how these criteria were used. The LSM and LSF signs for COUSIN are identical except for initialization, the LSM sign being articulated with a P handshape (cf. Spanish ‘primo’) while the LSF sign is articulated with a C handshape (cf. French ‘cousin’). These are treated as similarly-articulated signs. Similarly, the LSM and LSF signs for FIRE are identical except that the former is articulated with a circular movement whereas the latter involves noncircular movement; they also qualify as similarly-articulated signs despite the difference in articulation on one major 4

For the elicitation of signs from the LSM consultants, the written Spanish word was covered. This was not done during the elicitation of the LSE data.

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parameter. Although differences in orientation certainly exist between signs that are coded as similarly-articulated, in this analysis orientation is not considered a major formational parameter and thus orientation differences did not force the use of the distinctly-articulated category. In contrast, two sets of cases constitute the set of signs that are not considered similarly articulated. First, signs varying on two or more major parameters were considered distinctly-articulated signs. Likewise, because “sharing the same meaning” was operationalized narrowly, cases of semantic narrowing or extension were not considered. Thus, to use an example from spoken language, even though some varieties of Arabic use /u t/ to mean ‘whale’ while others use it to mean ‘fish,’ the methods of data collection used here would miss this and similar cognates when comparing varieties. However, such cognates have long been a major source of information used by historical linguists in understanding the diachronic relationships among dialects and languages. Hence, in analyzing only signs with approximately identical meanings and similar forms, we ultimately provide a conservative estimate of the strength and nature of similarities between the languages examined, especially those known to have been in contact. Each sign token available within the LSM corpus from any one of the six LSM consultants was compared to signs with similar meanings in the three other signed languages. So, for example, we would identify a similarly-articulated sign pair in LSF and LSM if one of the variants identified in our LSM data shared two of the three major parameters with its counterpart in the LSF corpus. The fact that our data from LSF and LSE come from only one signer of each language, combined with the fact that we have NS data from only two signers, means that we have much less information about variant forms in those languages than we do for LSM. This fact could result in some underestimation of the extent of similarity between the vocabulary of LSM and those of the other sign languages. 9.3

Results

Table 9.1 below summarizes the total number of sign pairs included in the study and the resulting set of similarly-articulated signs for each pair-wise comparison. As noted above, the members of each sign pair shared the same approximate meaning. Out of the 112 LSM–LSF sign pairs examined in this study, 43 pairs (38 percent) were coded as similarly-articulated. In the LSM– LSE comparison of 89 pairs, 29 (33 percent) were coded as similarly-articulated. For the third pair-wise comparison, of the 166 LSM–NS sign pairs examined, 39 pairs (23 percent) were coded as similarly-articulated. Not surprisingly, the largest percentage of similarly-articulated signs was found in the LSM and LSF pair-wise comparison, whereas the smallest percentage of similarly-articulated signs was found in the LSM–NS comparison.


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Table 9.1 Summary of similarly-articulated signs for the three crosslinguistic studies

Pair-wise comparison LSM–LSF LSM–LSE LSM–NS

Total sign pairs

Borrowed signs

Shared symbolism

Coincidence

112 89 166

12 0 0

31 29 39

0 0 0

Similarly-articulated signs (percentages in parentheses) 43 (38) 29 (33) 39 (23)

Table 9.1 also reports our analyses of the likely sources of similarly-articulated signs identified in our analyses of the three language pairs. Note that no signs were analyzed as similarly-articulated due to coincidence; in all cases, similarlyarticulated signs could be attributed to either shared symbolism or borrowing. A similarly-articulated pair of signs would have been attributed to coincidence only if the signs were arbitrary in form and came from language pairs (such as LSM–NS) that share no known historical or cultural links. For these data, most similarly-articulated signs may be ascribed to shared symbolism, inasmuch as the forms of these signs appear to be drawing from similar imagistic sources, such as shared visual icons in such sign pairs as ‘fire,’ ‘bird,’ and ‘house.’ By employing the same criteria as those employed in the comparisons between related languages, the comparison between LSM and NS enables us to suggest a baseline level of similarity for unrelated signed languages. Out of 166 NS signs, 39 signs (23 percent) are similarly-articulated with respect to their LSM counterparts. As noted, no LSM signs appear to be borrowings from NS, a result that is not surprising. The set of signs that are similarly-articulated consists of iconic signs that are also found to be similarly-articulated in the other pair-wise comparisons; these sign pairs include those for ‘balloon,’ ‘book,’ ‘boat,’ ‘bird,’ ‘fire,’ and ‘fish.’ These signs are also similarly-articulated with respect to their American Sign Language (ASL) counterparts. We consider the similarity in these sign pairs to be due to shared symbolism. Although there are no clear examples of borrowings in the pair-wise comparison of LSM and LSE, the number of similarly-articulated signs is nonetheless greater than that seen in the LSM–NS pair-wise comparison. The higher level of similarity between LSM and LSE is perhaps due to shared symbolism, which is likely to be greater between languages with related ambient cultures (LSM– LSE) than between languages that have distinct ambient cultures (LSM–NS). The existence of borrowings between LSM and LSF is not surprising given the historic and linguistic links between LSM and LSF mentioned in the introduction. The borrowings of signs from LSF into LSM may be attributed to

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the prestige of LSF signs among the Deaf community during the early period of Mexican Deaf education. Although these 12 borrowings are articulated similarly in LSF and LSM, these signs are not articulated similarly in LSM and ASL. Thus, the 12 signs that we classify as lexical borrowings from LSF into LSM cannot be linked to contact with ASL. These 12 signs are: r kinship terms: HERMANO/FRERE ‘brother,’ HERMANA/SOEUR ‘sister,’ PRIMO/COUSIN ‘cousin,’ SOBRINO/NEVEU ‘nephew’; r calendric expressions: MES/MOIS ‘month,’ SEMANA/SEMAINE ‘week’; ˜ ´ languages: ESPANOL/ESPAGNOL ‘Spanish’ and INGLES/ANGLAIS ‘English’; r terms for natural phenomena: ESTRELLA/ETOILE ´ ‘star’ and AGUA/EAU ‘water’; r an emphatic: VERDAD/VRAI ‘true’; and r an abstract concept: CURIOSIDAD/CURIOSITE´ ‘curiosity’. These sign pairs are analyzed as borrowings due to the relatively low iconicity of these signs; therefore the likelihood of independent parallel development is quite small. Although there may be other borrowings among the set of similarly-articulated signs identified in the pair-wise comparison of LSM–LSF, the status of these signs is uncertain, and this uncertainty ultimately raises significant questions about how researchers understand and investigate the diachronic relationships among sign languages. For example, one sign pair that may be the result of borrowing from LSF – but that we have not included in the above set of clear borrowings from that language – is the pair AYUDA/AIDE ‘help.’ In LSF AIDE, the flat dominant hand (a B hand) contacts the underside of the nondominant elbow and lifts the nondominant arm (which in our data has a fisted handshape). In LSM AYUDA, the dominant hand (a fisted A handshape with the thumb extended) rests on the nondominant B hand; these two hands move upward together. Our rationale for excluding this pair of signs is that LSM AYUDA may be borrowed from ASL, inasmuch as the LSM sign resembles the ASL sign to a greater degree than it resembles the LSF sign. However, the results of research on ASL lead us to the hypothesis that this LSM sign might, in fact, have been borrowed from LSF and not ASL. Frishberg (1975) and Woodward (1976) discuss the form of the ASL sign HELP in the light of historical contact between LSF and ASL and historical variation within ASL. They suggest that this sign has undergone language-internal historical change resulting in centralization of the sign (Frishberg 1975) or in an elbowto-hand change in place of articulation (Woodward 1976). This historical change results in a place of articulation change from the elbow, as in the LSF sign, to the nondominant hand, as in the ASL and LSM signs. Frishberg and Woodward suggest that this elbow-to-hand change is a historical process that several ASL signs have undergone.


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Interestingly, this process is also seen in the LSM data in the sign SEMANA ‘week.’ The LSF sign is articulated at the elbow; the LSM sign is identical with a single difference in the place of articulation at the base of the nondominant hand. What is noteworthy is that, although the members of the sign pair SEMANA/SEMAINE ‘week’ are similarly-articulated in LSM and LSF, they are in no way similar to the corresponding ASL sign WEEK. Thus, it is possible that the same historical change discussed for the ASL and LSF sign HELP/AIDE ‘help’ may also have occurred for the LSM and LSF signs SEMANA/SEMAINE. This similarity between the LSF AIDE ‘help’ and SEMAINE ‘week,’ on the one hand, and the LSM AYUDA ‘help’ and SEMANA ‘week,’ on the other hand, suggests the possibility that the LSM sign AYUDA may also have been borrowed or derived from LSF instead of ASL. As an alternative to our analysis that assumes borrowing to be an important source of similarity between LSF and LSM, one might contend that LSM signs treated here as borrowings from LSF are, in fact, cognate signs. By “cognate signs,” we mean pairs of signs that share a common origin and that are from genetically related languages. Although some researchers (Stokoe 1974; Smith Stark 1990) have argued that the relationship that exists between LSF and American, Mexican, and Brazilian sign languages, among others, is best seen as a genetic one with French as the “mother” language, we see several reasons to doubt this claim (although we certainly agree that LSF has influenced the development of the signed languages it came into contact with in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries). If LSM and LSF were indeed genetically related, one might have expected a much higher percentage of similar signs than our analysis reveals.5 As is, the percentage of similarly articulated signs revealed by the LSM–LSF comparison (38 percent) is only marginally greater than that found in the LSM–LSE analysis (33 percent). In contrast, signed languages that are known to be related show a much greater degree of overlap in their lexicons. Thus, comparisons of British, Australian, and New Zealand Sign Languages have indicated that these languages may share 80 percent or more of their vocabulary (Johnston, in press; also McKee and Kennedy 2000). Additionally, “languages arising outside of normal transmission are not related (in the genetic sense) to any antecedent systems,” according to Thomason and Kaufman (1988:10; emphasis in original). Based on what we know about the history of the LSM and LSF, it is highly unlikely that these languages are genetically related inasmuch as they have not arisen from “normal transmission.” Reflecting the perspective of historical linguists in general, Thomason and Kaufman define 5

However, similarity in basic lexicon does not necessarily indicate a genetic relationship, as the history of English demonstrates. Thus, the facts that after the Norman invasion in 1066 Middle English borrowed a substantial fraction of its vocabulary from Norman French and that Early Modern English borrowed many words from Latin do not mean that English should be considered a Romance language.

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normal transmission as a language being transmitted “from parent generation to child generation and/or via peer group from immediately older to immediately younger, with relatively small degrees of change over the short run, given a reasonably stable sociolinguistic context” (1988:9–10; emphasis in original). Nonetheless, it is historically and linguistically apparent that LSM and LSF have come into contact with each other and that LSF has had some influence over the development of the LSM lexicon. However, the historical development of LSM and LSF points toward a nongenetic relationship. It is for this reason that the sign pairs that we analyzed as borrowings were considered as such and not as cognate signs. Borrowings are a consequence of language contact. In this instance, the language contact situation was between one man and a small community. Moreover, the circumstances surrounding the origins of LSM at the school run by Huet contrast sharply with those surrounding the normal transmission of ASL or any other sign language, which occurs between parents and children and between successive generations of peer groups at, for example, residential schools. 9.4

Discussion

Our analysis of these admittedly small data sets leads us to several conclusions. First, the findings of the pair-wise comparison between LSM and NS suggest a possible base level of the percentage of similarly-articulated signs due to shared symbolism between signed languages. Even for these two signed languages – which are quite remote from each other – similarly-articulated signs constituted 23 percent of the sampled vocabulary. Second, the lexicons of LSF and LSE show greater overlap with LSM than does NS. This finding is not surprising, given the known historical and cultural ties that link Mexico, Spain, and France. Third, only the LSM–LSF comparison revealed strong evidence for borrowings into LSM. These borrowings are likely due to the use of LSF – or of signs drawn from LSF – in the language of instruction in the first school for the deaf in Mexico City. No obvious borrowings were identified in the LSM–LSE comparison. The comparison between LSM and LSE addresses the commonly held assumption that there might be a genetic relationship between these two languages. The limited data available provide no evidence for such a claim. Several researchers have attempted to assess the similarity of vocabulary across signed languages (Woodward 1978; Woll 1983; Kyle and Woll 1985; Woll 1987; Smith Stark 1990). For example, using criteria detailed below, Woll (reported in Kyle and Woll 1985) compared 15 signed languages and found that an average of 35 percent to 40 percent of the 257 sampled lexical items were similarly-articulated between any pair of the 15 languages examined.6 Woll 6

LSF is the only language common to Woll’s study and the current one.


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(1983:85) coded these signs according to handshape, movement, and location, as well as other features such as “orientation of fingers and palm, point of contact between hand and the location of the sign, and fine handshape details.” She organized the signs according to similar “types” that may have different “versions.” Sign pairs that shared the same meanings and the same places of articulation – but that differed in the two other parameters of movement and handshape – were considered what we have labeled similarly-articulated signs. As her method for coding signs as similar allows for two differences in the three main parameters (place, movement, and handshape), her coding is more liberal than ours. Additionally, Woll includes number signs in her set of 257 signs, which might lead to an overestimation of similar signs for reasons indicated earlier. Although Woll’s criteria are more liberal than ours, the overall trends in her study are pertinent. Three trends, in particular, are relevant for the discussion of the data. The first is the observation of a baseline similarity across signed languages and the second is the observation of a difference between signed and spoken languages regarding the significance of the degree of lexical similarity. Kyle and Woll (1985:168) state that 35–40 percent similarity in lexicons between unrelated spoken languages would be considered a very high degree of similarity. As Greenberg (1957:37) states, with respect to spoken languages, “where the percentage of [lexical] resemblance between languages is very high, say 20 percent or more, some historic factor, whether borrowing or genetic relationship, must be assumed.” However, according to Woll, signed languages with a known close relationship share a much higher percentage of similarlyarticulated signs. For example, Kyle and Woll (1985:168) report that British and Australian sign languages – which are historically related – share 80 percent of their vocabulary, a result confirmed in more recent analyses cited earlier (McKee and Kennedy 2000). It appears that lexical similarity is one area where the modality of the language results in a difference between spoken and signed languages. In other words, when comparing languages, researchers must consider the modality of the language when examining the degree of similarity. We agree with Woll that for signed languages one needs a much higher percentage of similarly-articulated lexical items than in spoken languages in order to support the claim of a close relationship between two signed languages. One source of lexical similarity across signed languages may lie in iconicity. Smith Stark (1990) estimates the frequency of iconic signs in some of the signed languages with which we have been concerned here: specifically, Mexican, Brazilian, American, and French Sign Languages. In his analysis, he considers whether signs are iconic (i.e. resemble their referent), indexical (i.e. point to or evoke their referent directly), and/or symbolic (i.e. have forms that are unmotivated). Although his method of coding is not clear, he reports that a fairly high percentage of the signs in his data are in some way indexically or

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iconically motivated. Among the four signed languages he analyzed, he found that 45–66 percent of the signs examined exhibited a notable degree of iconicity, whereas 24–39 percent were coded as purely symbolic. These findings point out another major difference between signed and spoken languages: there are a great many more lexical items that are iconic in a signed language than in a spoken language. However, as Kyle and Woll (1985:113) state: “Although this visual imagery is more immediately apparent and more widespread than in spoken language, the difference is likely to be of degree rather than kind.” Given shared traditions and beliefs in the Western cultures where LSM, LSF, LSE, and also ASL are signed, it would not be surprising to find that these languages have exploited similar icons as the etymological bases for signs with similar meanings. To a somewhat lesser extent, the same result seems to hold for comparisons of LSM with NS. The analyses reported in this chapter revealed a subset of signs that are similarly-articulated across LSM, LSF, LSE, and NS. These signs tended to be highly iconic in form. The signs for ‘balloon,’ ‘book,’ ‘fire,’ ‘dresser,’ ‘key,’ and ‘red’ are included in this group of similarly-articulated signs. This is not to say that these signs are merely mimetic representations. Rather, this finding suggests that across signed languages, there may be a set of signs that tend to share icons and that tend to be composed of similar formational elements. Thus, the likely similarity of such signs does not necessarily imply a historical relationship between or among these languages. Even without direct contact, pairs of signed languages may in some instances have similarly-articulated signs to signify highly imageable concepts.7 On the other hand, similarly-articulated sign pairs such as LSM and LSF VERDAD/VRAI ‘true’ that are less overtly iconic than the signs for ‘balloon’, ‘book’, or ‘fire’ are more likely to be the result of language contact. Among the three language pairs examined, the comparison between LSM and LSF offers the most potential borrowings. This result is not surprising given the historical relationship between the French and Mexican systems of deaf education. However, the question of the motivation for the particular borrowings described remains unanswered. In Weinreich’s (1968:57) discussion of the potential motivations for lexical borrowings in spoken languages, he mentions that common terms tend to be stable lexical items, whereas borrowing is more likely to occur for those lexical items that have a lower frequency of use. However, the signs identified here as borrowings tend to be signs that would be expected to be frequent in everyday usage. Another factor Weinreich discusses for spoken 7

Having said this, we hasten to add that in many instances sign languages have conventionalized quite different icons for the same concept. Klima and Bellugi (1979) cite the sign for TREE in three different sign languages: in ASL the icon seems to be a tree waving in the wind, in Danish Sign Language the sign seems to sketch the round crown of a tree and its trunk, and in Chinese Sign Language the icon is apparently the columnar shape of a tree trunk or of some trees.


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languages may explain why these common terms may have been borrowed from LSF: “social values.” Social attitudes may have been the factor that motivated the LSF borrowings to be accepted into the LSM lexicon. It is possible that with Huet’s establishment of the school for the deaf LSF was introduced, and the attitudes toward LSF and the teachings of the school were positive, according them a prestige that tends to come with what is considered educated language use. These positive attitudes may have contributed to the acceptance of the borrowing of common lexical items into the language of LSM. This same factor, the prestige of educated language, may also contribute to the relatively high incidence of initialized signs in LSM. In conclusion, the resources of the visual – gestural modality – specifically, its capacity for iconic representation – may promote greater resemblance between the vocabularies of unrelated signed languages than we would expect between unrelated spoken languages. The analysis presented here – specifically the comparison between LSE and NS – supports Woll’s (1983) proposal that there is a relatively high base level of similarity between sign language vocabularies regardless of the degree of historical relatedness. To some extent, the apparent similarity of sign vocabularies may be an artifact of the relative youth of signed languages. Time and historical change may obscure the iconic origins of signs (Frishberg 1975). For an answer to this, we will have to wait and see. Acknowledgments This chapter is based on the doctoral dissertation of the first author (Guerra Currie 1999). We thank David McKee and Claire Ramsey for their very helpful comments on an earlier draft. References Bickford, Albert. 1991. Lexical variation in Mexican Sign Language.Sign Language Studies 72:241–276. Frishberg, Nancy. 1975. Arbitrariness and iconicity: Historical change in American Sign Language. Language 51:696–719. Greenberg, Joseph. 1957. Essays in linguistics. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Groce, Nora E. 1985. Everyone here spoke sign language: Hereditary deafness on Martha’s Vineyard. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Guerra Currie, Anne-Marie P. 1999. A Mexican Sign Language lexicon: Internal and crosslinguistic similarities and variations. Doctoral dissertation, The University of Texas at Austin. Holzrichter, Amanda S. 2000. Interactions between deaf mothers and their deaf infants: A crosslinguistic study. Doctoral dissertation, The University of Texas at Austin. Johnson, Robert E. 1991. Sign language, culture and community in a traditional Yucatec Maya village. Sign Language Studies 73:461–474.

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Johnston, Trevor. 2001. BSL, Auslan and NZSL: Three sign languages or one? In Proceedings of the 7th International Conference on Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Research (University of Amsterdam, Amsterdam, July, 2000), ed. Anne Baker. Hamburg: Signum Verlag. Johnston, Trevor. In press. BSL. Auslan and NZSL: Three signed languages or one? In Anne E. Baker, Beppie van den Boagaerde and Onno Crasborn (eds.), A crosslinguistic perspective on sign languages. Hamburg: Signum Verlag. Klima, Edward S. and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kyle, J. G. and B. Woll. 1985. Sign language: The study of deaf people and their language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McKee, David and Graeme Kennedy. 2000. Lexical comparison of signs from American, Australian, British and New Zealand Sign Languages. In The signs of language revisited: An anthology to honor Ursula Bellugi and Edward Klima, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 49–76. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Sierra, Ignacio. 1934. Compañerismo: Organo del club deportivo “Eduardo Huet.” Mexico City: El Club Eduardo Huet. Smith Stark, Thomas C. 1990. Una comparación de las lenguas manuales de México y de Brasil. Paper read at IX Congreso Internaciónal de la Asociación de Lingüistica y Filog´ıa de América Latina (ALFAL), at Campinas, Brasil. Stokoe, William C. 1974. Classification and description of sign languages. In Current trends in linguistics, Vol. 12, ed. Thomas A. Sebeok. 345–371. The Hague: Mouton. Thomason, Sarah G. and Terrence Kaufman. 1988. Language contact, creolization, and genetic linguistics. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Weinreich, Uriel. 1968. Languages in contact. The Hague: Mouton. Woll, B. 1983. The comparative study of different sign languages: Preliminary analyses. In Recent research on European sign languages, ed. Filip Loncke, Penny BoyesBraem, and Yvan Lebrun, 79–91. Lisse: Swets and Zeitlinger. Woll, B. 1987. Historical and comparative aspects of British Sign Language. In Sign and school: Using signs in deaf children’s development, ed. Jim Kyle, 12–34. Clevedon, Avon: Multilingual Matters. Woodward, James. 1976. Signs of change: Historical variation in American Sign Language. Sign Language Studies 10:81–94. Woodward, James. 1978. Historical bases of American Sign Languages. In Understanding language through sign language research, ed. Patricia Siple, 333–348. New York: Academic Press.

Part III

Syntax in sign: Few or no effects of modality

Within the past 30 years, syntactic phenomena within signed languages have been studied fairly extensively. American Sign Language (ASL) in particular has been analyzed within the framework of relational grammar (Padden 1983), lexicalist frameworks (Cormier 1998, Cormier et al. 1999), discourse representation theory (Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990), and perhaps most widely in generative and minimalist frameworks (Lillo-Martin 1986; Lillo-Martin 1991; Neidle et al. 2000). Many of these analyses of ASL satisfy various syntactic principles and constraints that are generally taken to be universal for spoken languages (Lillo-Martin 1997). Such principles include Ross’s (1967) Complex NP Constraint (Fischer 1974), Ross’s Coordinate Structure Constraint (Padden 1983), Wh-Island Constraint, Subjacency, and the Empty Category Principle (Lillo-Martin 1991; Romano 1991). The level of syntax and phrase structure is where sequentiality is perhaps most obvious in signed languages, and this may be one reason why we can fairly straightforwardly apply many of these syntactic principles to signed languages. Indeed, the overall consensus seems to be that the visual–gestural modality of signed languages results in very few differences between the syntactic structure of signed languages and that of spoken languages. The three chapters in this section support this general assumption, revealing minimal modality effects at the syntactic level. Those differences that do emerge seem to based on the use of the signing space (as noted in Lillo-Martin’s chapter; Chapter 10) or on nonmanual signals (as noted in the Pfau and Tang and Sze chapters; Chapters 11 and 12). Nonmanual signals include particular facial expressions and body positions that act primarily as grammatical markers in signed languages. Both the use of space and nonmanual signals are integral features of the signed modality and are used in all the signed languages that have been studied to date (Moody 1983; Bos 1990; Engberg-Pedersen 1993; Pizzuto et al. 1995; Meir 1998; Sutton-Spence and Woll 1998; Senghas 2000; Zeshan 2000). Chapter 10 starts with the autonomy of syntax within spoken languages and extends this concept to signed languages, concluding that while there must be some modality effects at the articulatory–perceptual level, there need not be 237

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Syntax in sign: few or no effects of modality

at the syntactic level. Lillo-Martin goes on to explore one facet affecting the syntax and morphology of signed languages that does show modality effects: the use of signing space for pronominal and anaphoric reference. This issue is also explored in more detail in Part IV of this volume on deixis and verb agreement. Chapter 11 is an exploration of split negation in German Sign Language (Deutsche Gebärdensprache or DGS), with comparisons to ASL and also many spoken languages. Pfau finds that split negation occurs in DGS and closely resembles split negation patterns found in many spoken languages. In addition, there is variation in negation patterns within the class of signed languages, so that while DGS has split negation, ASL does not. Thus, split negation essentially shows no modality effect. However, Pfau identifies one potential modality effect related to the nonmanual marking (headshake) associated with negation. This nonmanual marking, which Pfau argues is essentially prosodic, acts somewhat differently from prosody in spoken languages. In Chapter 12 Tang and Sze look at the structure of nominals in Hong Kong Signed Language (HKSL). They find minimal modality effects at the structural level, where HKSL nominals have the basic structure [Det Num N]. However, Tang and Sze note that there may be a modality effect in the types of nominals that receive definiteness marking. In HKSL bare nouns often receive marking for definiteness, which in HKSL is realized nonmanually in eye gaze or role shift. Like Pfau’s negation marking, Tang and Sze note variation of this definiteness marking across signed languages. Thus, while definiteness is expressed in ASL with head tilt and eye gaze, only eye gaze is used in HKSL. Chapters 11 and 12 in particular constitute significant contributions to the body of literature on signed languages other than ASL, and indicate a very strong need for more crosslinguistic work on different signed languages. Only by looking at a wide variety of signed languages will we be able to tease apart what features of human language are affected by language modality, and what features are part of universal grammar. kearsy cormier

References Bos, Heleen. 1990. Person and location marking in Sign Language of the Netherlands: Some implications of a spatially expressed syntactic system. In Current trends in European sign language research, ed. Sigmund Prillwitz and Tomas Vollhaber, 231–246. Hamburg: Signum Press. Cormier, Kearsy. 1998. Grammatical and anaphoric agreement in American Sign Language. Masters thesis, University of Texas at Austin. Cormier, Kearsy, Stephen Wechsler, and Richard P. Meier. 1999. Locus agreement in American Sign Language. In Lexical and constructional aspects of linguistic

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explanation, ed. Gert Webelhuth, Jean-Pierre Koenig and Andreas Kathol, 215– 229. Stanford, CA: CSLI Press. Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth. 1993. Space in Danish Sign Language. Hamburg: Signum Press. Fischer, Susan D. 1974. Sign language and linguistic universals. In Actes du Colloque Franco-Allemand de Grammaire Transformationnelle, ed. Christian Rohrer and Nicholas Ruwet, 187–204. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1986. Two kinds of null arguments in American Sign Language. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 4:415–444. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1991. Universal grammar and American Sign Language. Boston, MA: Kluwer. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1997. The modular effects of sign language acquisition. In Relations of language and thought: The views from sign language and deaf children, ed. Marc Marschark, Patricia Siple, Diane Lillo-Martin, Ruth Campbell and Victoria S. Everheart, 62–109. New York: Oxford University Press. Lillo-Martin, Diane, and Edward Klima. 1990. Pointing out differences: ASL pronouns in syntactic theory. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple, 191–210. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Meir, Irit. 1998. Thematic structure and verb agreement in Israeli Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Moody, Bill. 1983. La langue des signes. Vincennes: International Visual Theatre. Neidle, Carol, Judy Kegl, Dawn MacLaughlin, Benjamin Bahan, and Robert Lee. 2000. The syntax of American Sign Language. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Padden, Carol A. 1983. Interaction of morphology and syntax in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California at San Diego, CA. Pizzuto, Elena, Emanuela Cameracanna, Serena Corazza, and Virginia Volterra. 1995. Terms for spatio-temporal relations in Italian Sign Language. In Iconicity in language, ed. Raffaele Simone, 237–256. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Romano, Christine. 1991. Mixed headedness in American Sign Language: Evidence from functional categories. MIT Working Papers in Linguistics 14:241–254. Ross, J. R. 1967. Constraints on variables in syntax. Doctoral dissertation, MIT. Senghas, Ann. 2000. The development of early spatial morphology in Nicaraguan Sign Language. Proceedings of the Annual Boston University Conference on Language Development 24:696–707. Sutton-Spence, Rachel, and Bencie Woll. 1998. The linguistics of British Sign Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Zeshan, Ulrike. 2000. Sign language in Indo-Pakistan: A description of a signed language. Philadelphia, PA: John Benjamins.

10

Where are all the modality effects? Diane Lillo-Martin

10.1

Introduction

Sign languages are produced and perceived in the visual modality, while spoken languages are produced and perceived in the auditory modality. Does this difference in modality have any effect on the structures of these two types of languages? Much of the research on the structure of sign languages has mentioned this issue, but it is far from resolved. To some authors, the differences between sign languages and spoken languages are paramount, because the study of “modality effects” is a contribution which sign language research uniquely can make. To others, the similarities between sign languages and spoken languages are most important, for they can tell us how certain properties of linguistic systems transcend modality and are, therefore, truly universal. Of course, both of these goals are worthy, and this book is testimony to the fruits that such endeavors can yield. In this chapter I address the question of modality effects by first examining the architecture of the language faculty. By laying out my assumptions about how language works in the general sense, predictions about the locus of modality effects can be made. I then take up an issue that is a strong candidate for a modality effect: the use of space for indicating reference in pronouns and verbs. I review some of the issues that have been discussed with respect to this phenomenon, and offer an analysis that is in keeping with the theoretical framework set up at the beginning. I do not offer this analysis as support for the theoretical assumptions but, instead, the framework provides support for the analysis. Interestingly, my conclusions turn out to be rather similar to a proposal made on the basis of some very different assumptions about the nature of the language faculty.

10.2

The autonomy of syntax

One of the fundamental assumptions of generative grammar has been the autonomy of syntax (Chomsky 1977). What this means is that the representations and derivations of the syntactic component do not refer to phonological structures 241

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or semantic structures; likewise, phonological or semantic rules do not refer to syntactic structures.1 As Jackendoff (1997:27) puts it: [P]honological rules cannot refer directly to syntactic categories or syntactic constituency. Rather, they refer to prosodic constituency, which . . . is only partially determined by syntactic structure . . . Conversely, syntactic rules do not refer to phonological domains or to the phonological content of words.

Clearly, the syntactic component and the phonological component must connect at some point. In recent literature, this point has been called an “interface.” Some of the recent research in generative syntax within the Minimalist Program (Chomsky 1995) has sought to determine where in a derivation the syntax– phonology interface lies, and the properties it has. For example, it has long been assumed by some syntacticians (e.g. Chomsky 1981) that there may be “stylistic” order-changing rules that apply in the interface component connecting syntax with phonology. However, aside from the operations of this interface level, known as PF (Phonetic Form), it is generally assumed that the operations of the syntax and of the phonology proper are autonomous of each other. Thus, quoting again from Jackendoff (1997:29): For example, syntactic rules never depend on whether a word has two versus three syllables (as stress rules do); and phonological rules never depend on whether one phrase is c-commanded by another (as syntactic rules do). That is, many aspects of phonological structure are invisible to syntax and vice versa.

In generative grammar, this hypothesis is captured by models of the architecture of the language faculty in which the output of syntactic operations are fed, through the PF component, to the phonology proper. While the details of the models have changed over the years, the assumption of autonomy has remained. 10.2.1

Autonomy and signed languages

These proposals about the autonomy of syntax were made after consideration of the properties of only spoken languages.2 However, it is now well established that signed languages are in every sense “language,” and theories of the nature of human language must be broad enough to accommodate the properties of signed languages as well as spoken languages. What would the theory of the autonomy of syntax lead us to expect about the nature of sign languages? Do sign languages force us to reconsider the notion of autonomy? The null hypothesis is that there are no differences between spoken languages and signed languages. Hence, we might expect that sign languages will display 1 2

From here on, I discuss only autonomy of syntax and phonology, since this is the connection that is immediately relevant for questions about potential modality effects. Jackendoff’s recent works, while primarily discussing spoken languages, are an exception in explicitly aiming for a model of language that incorporates sign languages as well.

Where are all the modality effects?

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autonomy just as spoken languages do. What does this mean for the analysis of phonology and syntax in sign languages? The phonology is the component of the grammar that interacts with the “articulatory–perceptual interface.” That is, the output of the phonological component is the input to the articulatory component (for production); or the output of the perceptual component is the input to the phonological component (for comprehension). While these mappings are far from simple, it is clear that the modality of language must be felt in the phonological component. Thus, for example, the features of a sign language representation include notions like “selected fingers” and “circular movement,” while those of a spoken language include “tongue tip” and “voice.” In other words, the modality of language affects the phonological component. In view of this inescapable conclusion, it is remarkable to notice how many similar properties sign phonologies and spoken phonologies share. Presumably, these properties come from the general, abstract properties of the language faculty (known as Universal Grammar, or UG). Since I do not work in the details of phonology, I do not offer here any argument as to whether these properties are specific to language or come from more general cognitive principles, although I have made my predilections known elsewhere (see Lillo-Martin 1997; however, for the point of view of some real sign language phonologists, see Sandler 1993; van der Hulst 2000; Brentari, this volume). Let it suffice for here to say that although certain aspects of the modality will show up in the phonology, it has been found that, as a whole, the system of sign language phonology displays in general the same characteristics as spoken language phonology. Even though the phonological components for signed languages and spoken languages must reveal their modalities to some degree, the theory of the autonomy of syntax allows for a different claim about that level of the grammar. If syntax and phonology are autonomous, there is no need for the syntactic components of signed and spoken languages to differ. The null hypothesis, then, is that they do not differ. In other words, the modality of language does not affect the syntactic component. This is not to say, of course, that any particular sign language will have the same syntax as any particular spoken language. Instead, I assume that the abstract syntactic principles of UG apply equally to languages in the signed and spoken modalities. Where UG permits variation between languages, sign languages may vary from spoken languages (and from each other). Where UG constrains the form of spoken languages, it will constrain sign languages as well. A clear counterexample to the UG hypothesis for sign language could come from a demonstration that universal principles of grammar – for example, the principle of structure dependence or the constraints on extraction – apply in spoken languages but not in sign languages. To my knowledge, no such claim has been made. On the contrary, several researchers have claimed that

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sign languages do adhere to the principles of UG (Fischer 1974; Padden 1983; Lillo-Martin 1991; Neidle et al. 2000). However, there have been claims that sign languages have certain syntactic properties that are a result of the visual-spatial modality. Since the Universal Grammar hypothesis leads to the expectation that signed and spoken languages would all vary within the same set of dimensions, this observation requires further explanation (see Sandler and Lillo-Martin 2001; Meier this volume). One set of apparently modality-dependent characteristics relates to the properties of verb agreement to be discussed here. Such claims should be investigated carefully for their potential to provide evidence against the autonomy hypothesis. First, it must be established that the claims represent true generalizations about some structures unique to sign languages. Next, the level of the phenomenon needs to be investigated. Modality effects at the phonological level may not constitute evidence against the autonomy hypothesis. Finally, the nature of the phenomenon should be considered. The strongest version of the autonomy hypothesis applied to sign language would say that the syntactic component of every sign language is a potential syntactic component for a spoken language, and vice versa. However, we can break down the contents of a mental grammar into those aspects that come from UG and those that are learned. There must be abundant positive evidence in the environment for those aspects of language that are learned. A weaker version, then, of the autonomy hypothesis applied to sign language would be that there would be no difference between signed and spoken languages with respect to the UG component. Any differences, then, would have to be learnable. While this version of the hypothesis reduces the predicted universal properties of language, it retains the crucial assumption that unlearnable properties (e.g. constraints) are universal. To summarize, the model presented here is one in which no modality effects would be found in the syntactic component, although the phonological component would contain information about modality. That is, modality effects should be found only at the interface: where the phonological component interacts with the articulatory–perceptual components. Any exceptions must be learnable. Let us now consider whether the available evidence complies with this model. 10.3

“Spatial syntax”

One of the greatest challenges for the framework outlined above comes from the use of spatial locations in the grammar of sign languages. The importance of understanding how space functions in sign language is underscored by the number of papers in this volume addressing this topic. Clearly, the use of space is a candidate modality effect that must be examined carefully. If spatial location were simply one of the components of a sign – as it is in ASL signs like MOTHER or DOG – there would not be such concern over


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its analysis. As Liddell (1990) points out, for some signs their location in the signing space simply reflects the articulatory function of space. However, spatial locations are also used to pick out referents and designate the location of elements. In such cases, spatial locations are not simply sublexical, but in addition they convey meaning. Most researchers have assumed (implicitly) that spatial locations are therefore morphemic, and that – just as Supalla (1982) provided a componential morphological analysis of the complex movements found in classifier constructions – some kind of componential morphological analysis of spatial locations could be provided. DeMateo (1977) was an exception: he argued that spatial locations could not be analyzed morphologically. More recently, this same conclusion has been argued for in a series of publications by Liddell (1990; 1994; 1995; 2000). Before summarizing Liddell’s position, the following sections briefly describe the meaningful use of space in American Sign Language (ASL). 10.3.1

The use of space in pronouns and verb agreement

Pronouns in ASL (and as far as we know, every other sign language investigated to date) can be described as indexical pointing to locations that represent referents. In many sign languages, to sign ‘I’ or ‘me,’ the signer points to his or her own chest, although in Japanese Sign Language (Nihon Syuwa or NS) the signer points to his or her own nose (Japan Sign Language Research Institute 1997). To sign ‘you,’ the signer points to the addressee. To sign ‘he’ or ‘she,’ the signer points to the intended referent. If the intended referent is not present in the signed discourse, the signer indicates a spatial location that is associated with the referent, and points to this location. Often, the locations toward which points are directed are referred to as “loci,” or R(eferential) loci. Using space for pronominal reference seems to make the system of pronouns in sign languages rather different from that of spoken languages. Two issues are mentioned here (these issues are also discussed in Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990). First, there seems to be no upper limit to the number of referents that can be pointed to using (distinct) pronoun signs. Indexical pointing toward any spatial locus may constitute a pronoun referring to a referent at that locus. Since between any two geometric points there is another point, it would seem that the number of potential pronoun signs is nonfinite. Second, unlike spoken language pronouns, sign language pronouns are generally unambiguous. Pointing to the location of a referent picks out that referent, not a class of potential referents (such as third person males). These two issues are discussed at more length below. The process long known as verb agreement in ASL (and other sign languages) makes use of the loci described for pronouns. Verb agreement involves modifying the form of a verb so that its beginning and ending locations correspond

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(a)

(b)

Figure 10.1

ASL verb agreement: 10.1a ‘I ask her’; 10.1b ‘He asks me’

(usually) to the locations of the referents intended as subject and object, respectively. Often, the verb also rotates so that it “faces” the object as well. This process is illustrated in Figure 10.1. The process of verb agreement illustrated in Figure 10.1 applies to a class of verbs, but not to all verbs in ASL. Padden (1983) identified three classes of verbs: r those that take agreement as described above; r those verbs such as ASL PUT that agree with spatial (i.e. locative) arguments; and r those that take no agreement at all. Furthermore, the class of agreeing verbs contains a subclass of “backwards” verbs, which move from the location of the object to the subject, instead of vice versa. The distinctions between the various classes of verbs with respect to agreement have received considerable attention. The importance of these distinctions for the analysis of verb agreement is brought out below.

10.4

Is space really syntax?

10.4.1

The traditional view

According to the traditional description above, loci are linguistic elements with the following characteristics. First, nominals are associated with loci (this process is sometimes called “nominal establishment” or “establishing a referent”). These loci determine the direction of pointing in pronouns. Furthermore, they determine the beginning and ending positions of agreeing verbs. Some authors have suggested ways to implement this idea by describing verbs (and pronouns) as specified lexically for certain components, such as handshape and skeletal structure, but missing out information about the initial and final location (see, for example, Sandler 1989). This information comes from the


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HC

L

M

[agreement locus] Figure 10.2

L [agreement locus]

Verb agreement template (after Sandler 1989)

morphological process of agreement. When the agreement template combines with the verb root, the verb is fully derived. Sandler’s (1989) representation of an agreeing verb is given in Figure 10.2. The problem that arises, however, is how to specify in the grammar the information that is filled in through the process of verb agreement. The locations must be filled in, but how are these locations described in the lexicon? In other words, what does the verb agree with? The general assumption has been that the verb agrees with the subject/object in person (and number). This view is put clearly by Neidle et al. (2000:31): “spatial locations constitute an overt instantiation of phi-features (specifically, person features).” However, recall that any number of referents may be established and referred to using verb agreement. If loci represent person features, how many person distinctions must be made in the grammar? The first traditional account followed the standard analysis of languages like the European ones which mark person, number, and gender on pronouns and verbal morphology. According to that account, first person is marked in ASL by using the location of the signer; second person by the location of the addressee; and multiple third persons can be marked using other spatial locations. (This view was adopted by Padden 1983 and many others.) Lillo-Martin and Klima (1990) and Meier (1990) noticed problems with this traditional analysis.3 In particular, Meier argued that no linguistic distinction is made between second and third person. Although there may well be referents in a discourse who play the roles of second (addressee) and third (non-addressee) person, these referents are not picked out using distinct mechanisms in the grammar. The uses of loci for second and third persons are indistinguishable; only the role played by a referent in a particular discourse separates these persons. On the other hand, Meier argued that ASL does make a linguistic distinction between first and nonfirst person. The location for first person reference is fixed, not changing like that for nonfirst referents. The plural form of the first person pronoun is morphologically idiosyncratic, while the plural forms for 3

While both of these chapters discussed the problem with respect to pronouns only, the same points – and presumably, analyses along the same lines – would apply to verb agreement. The papers are about the categorical distinctions made by the grammar of ASL, which provide features of nouns with which verbs agree.

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the nonfirst persons are completely componential. Importantly, the first person form may be used to pick out a referent other than the signer, in contexts of direct quotation (and what is often called “role shift”), just as first person forms may do in spoken languages. Thus, according to Meier, ASL marks a two-way person contrast: first vs. nonfirst. This conclusion has been shared by numerous authors working on ASL and other sign languages. For example, Engberg-Pedersen (1993) makes a similar argument for a first/nonfirst distinction in Danish Sign Language, as does Smith (1990) for Taiwanese Sign Language, Meir (1998) for Israeli Sign Language, and Rathmann (2000) for DGS. The main idea seems to be that there is a grammatical distinction between first and nonfirst person, with multiple realizations of nonfirst. Neidle et al. (2000:31) state that although “there is a primary distinction between first and non-first persons, non-first person can be further subclassified into many distinct person values.” 10.4.2

The problem

Liddell (1990) observed that this traditional view of a locus can be described as “referential equality,” by which “Referenta = locusa .” Furthermore, the locus has often been considered a point in signing space. However, as Liddell showed, agreement is not with points in space. Verbs are lexically specified for the height of articulation. The verb GIVE is articulated at about chest height, ASK is articulated at about chin height, and GET-SAME-IDEA-SAME-TIME is articulated at forehead height. Thus, these three verbs would move with respect to three different points even for the same referents. Apparently, a locus must have some depth.4 In addition, sometimes verbs indicate not only their lexically specified height with respect to the signer, but also the relative heights of the subject or object. In this way, a signer might sign ASK toward a lower point, to indicate asking a child; or toward a higher point, to indicate asking a very tall person. In a series of publications Liddell (1990; 1994; 1995; 2000) repeatedly raises the questions of how the spatial loci can be morphologically analyzed, and what the phonological specification of the (so-called) verb agreement process is. In order to accommodate his observations about loci, Liddell proposes a new analysis of the use of space in pronouns and agreement. First, he argues that the relation between a referent and a locus is not referential equality, but “location fixing.” In this view, associating a referent with a locus amounts to expressing “referenta is at locusa .” The referent might be present in the current 4

Alternatively, agreement might be described in terms of vectors, as proposed by Padden (1990:125), which are lexically specified for height.


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physical situation. If not, location fixing might serve to establish a locus for a “surrogate” (an imaginary referent of full size, used in the cases where verbs indicate relative height of referents), or a “token” (a schematic referent with some depth, but equivalent and parallel to the signer). Crucially, what Liddell (1995:25–26) recognizes is that in order for pronouns or verbs to make use of the locations of present referents, surrogates, or tokens: there is no . . . predictability associated with the locations that signs may be directed toward. The location is not dependent on any linguistic features or any linguistic category. Instead it comes directly from the signer’s view of the surrounding environment.

Thus, he argues (pp. 24–25), loci are not morphemic: There appears to be an unlimited number of possible locations for referents in Real Space and, correspondingly, an unlimited number of possible locations toward which the hand may be directed. Attempting a morphemic solution to the problem of directing signs toward any of an unlimited number of possible locations in Real Space would either require an unlimited number of location and direction morphemes or it would require postulating a single morpheme whose form was indeterminate. . . . The concept of a lexically fixed, meaningful element with indeterminate form is inconsistent with our conception of what morphemes are.

Given this state of affairs, Liddell concludes that there is no linguistic process of verb agreement in ASL. Instead, he proposes (p. 26) that: the handshapes, certain aspects of the orientations of the hand, and types of movement are lexically specified through phonological features, but . . . there are no linguistic features identifying the location the hands are directed toward. Instead, the hands are directed . . . by non-discrete gestural means.

In other words, he employs a mixture of linguistic and gestural elements to analyze “indicating verbs,” and specifically argues that the process employed is not agreement. 10.4.3

Why there is verb agreement in ASL

While Liddell’s observations are apt, his conclusion is too strong. There are several reasons to maintain an analysis of agreement in ASL. First, the first person and plural agreement forms do have a determinate shape. Just as Meier (1990) used a similar observation about pronouns to argue for a first/nonfirst person distinction in the pronominal system, the first person form of verbs is an identifiable agreement feature. Although the first person form is motivated, it is determinate and listable.5 Unlike the nonfirst forms, the first person form 5

Of course, as Liddell points out, even for first-person forms there is not one point for agreeing verbs, since they are lexically specified for different heights.

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employs a specifiable location that is also used for nonreferential lexical contrasts. Plural forms (dual, exhaustive, and multiple) have specific morphological shapes that combine predictably with roots. In fact, as Meier points out, the first person plural forms WE, OUR, and OURSELVES involve lexically specified locations “at best only partially motivated” (Meier 1990:180), despite the possibility for “pointing to” the signer and a locus or loci representing the other referents. Liddell himself does not reject the notion that there is a specific first person form, at least in pronouns (Liddell 1994). However, McBurney (this volume), adopting Liddell’s framework, argues that the first/nonfirst distinction is not a grammatical one. For the reasons given here and below, I think the distinction is real. Furthermore, there are numerous constraints on the agreement process. For one thing, as mentioned earlier, only a subset of verbs mark agreement at all. Meir (1998) characterized verbs that may take agreement as “potential possessors,” because on her analysis agreement verbs have a transfer component in their predicate–argument structure. Mathur (2000; Rathmann and Mathur, this volume) characterized verbs that may take agreement as those taking two animate arguments; similarly, Janis (1995) limited agreement to verbs with particular semantic relations, including animate patients, experiencers, and recipients. These characterizations of agreeing verbs are largely overlapping and, importantly, they bring out the fact that many verbs do not show agreement. Furthermore, agreement affects particular syntactic roles: subject and object for transitive verbs; subject and indirect object for di-transitives. Intransitives do not mark agreement; di-transitives do not mark agreement with their direct object. If there is no linguistic process of agreement – but rather a gestural procedure for indicating arguments – why should the procedure be limited by linguistic factors? To be sure, Liddell (1995) himself points out that the indicating process must interact closely with the grammar. He points out the observation made by Padden (1983) – and before that by Meier (1982) – that while object agreement is obligatory, subject agreement is optional; as well as the fact that certain combinations are ruled out (e.g. FLIRT-WITH-me). He does not, however, offer a way to capture these facts under a system with no linguistic agreement process. Many of the ruled-out forms can be attributed to phonetic constraints, as offered by Mathur and Rathmann (Mathur 2000; Mathur and Rathmann 2001). How would such constraints apply to forms generated outside the grammar? The arguments given so far have also been made by others, including Aronoff et al. (in submission), Meier (2002), and Rathmann and Mathur (this volume). Meier (2002) provides several additional arguments, and discusses at length how the evidence from the development of verb agreement also supports its existence as a linguistic phenomenon. He discusses development both for the young child acquiring a sign language (compare Meier 1982), and in terms of


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the emergence of a new sign language, as recently documented in Nicaragua (Senghas et al. 1997; Senghas 2000). These observations make a strong case for the existence of a linguistic process of verb agreement. Another important source of evidence for the linguistic status of verb agreement in sign languages comes from its interaction with various syntactic phenomena. If the treatments suggested here for the following phenomena are on the right track, then some aspects of verb agreement must be considered a linguistic process which applies before the end of the syntactic derivation. As one example, it has been argued that verb agreement plays a role in the licensing of null arguments in ASL (Lillo-Martin 1986). More recently, Bahan (1996) and Neidle et al. (2000) have argued that nonmanual realizations of agreement may license null arguments as well as manual agreement. Whether morphological agreement is limited to manual realization or takes both manual and nonmanual forms, if it plays a role in licensing of null arguments then this is good evidence for the syntactic relevance of agreement. Further evidence for the syntactic relevance of agreement comes from Brazilian Sign Language (Lingua de Sinais Brasileira or LSB). According to Quadros (1999), the phrase structure of sentences with agreeing verbs in LSB is distinct from that of sentences with plain verbs. Evidence for this distinction comes from several sources. The most striking difference between structures with agreeing and plain verbs in LSB is the behavior of negation. While the negative element NO may come between the subject and an agreeing verb in LSB, it may not come between the subject and a non-agreeing verb. Instead, negation with non-agreeing verbs must come sentence-finally (a position also available for sentences with agreeing verbs). Examples are given in (1)–(4). (1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

neg IXa JOHN IXb MARY a GIVEb BOOK NO John does not give Mary a book. (LSB; Quadros 1999:152) neg JOHN DESIRE CAR NO John does not like the car. (LSB; Quadros 1999:117) neg IXa JOHN NO a GIVEb BOOK John does not give the book (to her). (LSB; Quadros 1999:116) neg *JOHN NO DESIRE CAR John does not like the car. (LSB; Quadros 1999:116)

Another difference between plain and agreeing verbs in LSB is in the ordering of the subject and object. While plain verbs require subject–verb–object (SVO) order (in the absence of operations such as topicalization or focus), agreeing verbs permit preverbal objects. It has sometimes been claimed that the same is

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true for ASL (e.g. Fischer 1974), but the status of such non-SVO (subject–verb– object) utterances as a single clause in ASL is disputed (compare Padden 1983). LSB also differs from ASL in that it has an “auxiliary”: a lexical item to mark agreement with non-agreeing verbs. Such an element, although referred to by various names, has been observed in Taiwanese Sign Language (Smith 1990), Sign Language of the Netherlands (Bos 1994), Japanese Sign Language (Fischer 1996), and German Sign Language (Rathmann 2000). Although much more detailed work is needed – in particular to find the similarities and differences between the auxiliary-like elements across sign languages – it seems that in these sign languages the auxiliary element is used when agreement is blocked. Interestingly, there may be structural differences between sentences with and without the auxiliary (Rathmann 2000). The behavior of the auxiliary in the sign languages that have this element is further evidence for the linguistic status of agreement. However the auxiliary is to be analyzed, like an agreeing verb it moves between the subject and object loci. If it interacts with syntactic phenomena, it must be represented in some way in the derivation, i.e. in the linguistic system. To summarize, because of the ways that the system known as verb agreement interacts with other aspects of the linguistic system, it must itself be a linguistic system. Further, I have argued, at least some part of agreement must be represented in the syntax, because it interacts with other aspects of the syntax. However, does it matter to the syntax that verb agreement is realized spatially? How would this be captured in a syntax autonomous from phonology? As Liddell has pointed out, if the spatial locations used in agreement could be analyzed morphemically, the fact that agreement uses space would be no more relevant to the syntax than the fact that UGLY and DRY are minimal pairs differing only in location. As he pointed out, however, it seems that the spatial locations cannot be analyzed morphemically. How, then, is this problem to be resolved? 10.5

An alternative analysis employing agreement

The analysis that I propose comes from a combination of some of the essentials of the Lillo-Martin and Klima (1990) analysis of pronouns, together with Meier’s (1990) crucial distinction, as well as a piece of Liddell’s (2000) conclusion. It bears some resemblance to the analysis of verb agreement offered by Aronoff et al. (in submission). Their proposal also makes use of ideas from Lillo-Martin and Klima and Meier, but goes beyond those articles by making an explicit proposal for agreement. The present proposal differs from Aronoff et al. in accepting part of Liddell’s solution to the problem of nonfiniteness of loci. It also adopts some, but not all, of the proposals made by Mathur (2000), and largely overlaps with that of Rathmann and Mathur (this volume). A more detailed comparison of this proposal with these is offered below.


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Lillo-Martin and Klima recognize that a nonfinite list of possible pronoun signs cannot be part of the lexicon. As an alternative, they propose separating out the location from the rest of the sign in its lexical specification. That is, they argue that there is only one pronoun sign, specified for handshape and movement, but not for location. This means that person distinctions are not made in the pronominal system, neither in the lexical entries nor in the syntax. Adopting the more general notion that noun phrases carry a referential index,6 Lillo-Martin and Klima propose that as for any language, when a pronoun is inserted in the derivation of a sentence, it is assigned a referential index (or R index). In spoken languages referential indices serve to identify relationships between pronouns and potential antecedents. Coindexing is interpreted as coreference; noncoindexing as noncoreference. In the discourse representation, pronouns with identical referential indices are interpreted as picking out the same referent. Signed languages are unique, they claim, only in that the referential index is overtly realized; in contrast, it is unexpressed in spoken languages. That is, signs with identical referential indices must point to the same loci (R loci); signs with different indices must point to distinct loci. Lillo-Martin and Klima proposed that there is only one pronoun in the ASL lexicon (a conclusion also reached by Ahlgren 1990 for Swedish Sign Language). However, the arguments for a first/nonfirst distinction made by Meier have since been adopted by Lillo-Martin, together with the above analysis for nonfirst forms. How can this analysis be updated to account for verb agreement and Liddell’s observations about the use of space? First, note that the analysis by Lillo-Martin and Klima did not specify how the distinct loci represented by noncoindexing would be realized phonologically. Their point was to show that information about spatial loci was not needed in the syntax. In fact, as Liddell argues, it may be impossible to provide a componential analysis of spatial loci for the use of phonology either. There are, then, two courses that may be taken. The first is to allow modality effects in the phonology – since we know that effects of the modality must be allowed in the phonology – and simply to accept the notion of non-analyzable phonological material. The second course is to follow Liddell in taking the non-analyzable out of language altogether. Following Liddell, then, the locations toward which pronouns are directed would come from the gestural component, which interacts with language – but not from language in the narrow sense. This explanation may be clearer if we compare the proposal to what we observe about pointing gestures that accompany speech. In spoken English, pointing gestures often accompany pronouns, such as when a speaker indicates three distinct referents while saying, ‘I saw him and him, but not him.’ Like 6

In current syntactic theory of the Minimalist Program, indices have been removed from syntactic representations.

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pronouns in sign language, these gestures are unlistable (a speaker may point to any location in space), and they disambiguate the reference of the pronouns they accompany. The present proposal is that the nonfirst singular sign language pronoun is lexically and syntactically ambiguous, just as ‘him’ is in the English example; however, when it combines with a gesture, it may be directed at any location, and its reference is disambiguated. So far, my proposal is almost just like Liddell’s. The difference comes when we move to verb agreement. First, note that although they combine linguistic and gestural components, I have not refrained from calling pointing in sign language “pronouns.” As pronouns, they are present in the syntactic structure and participate in syntactic and semantic processes. For example, I expect that sign language pronouns adhere to conditions on pronouns such as the principles of the Binding Theory of Chomsky (1981) or their equivalent. I know of no evidence against this. I take the same approach to verb agreement. Again following Liddell, I am convinced that a combination of linguistic and gestural explanations is necessary to account for the observed forms of verbs. However, unlike Liddell, I do not take this as reason to reject the notion that verbs agree. In particular, I have given reasons above to support the claim that a class of verbs in ASL agree in person (first vs. nonfirst) and number (singular, dual, and multiple at least) with their subject and object. Hence, my proposal is that there is a process of verb agreement whereby verbs agree with their arguments in person and number, but the realization of agreement must also ensure that coindexing corresponds to the use of the same locus, a process which must involve a gestural component. I believe that Meier (2002) concurs with this conclusion when he states that “although the form of agreement may be gestural, the integration of these gestural elements into verbs is linguistically determined.” The proposal that sign language verbs combine linguistic and gestural components is different from the English example in that for sign language, both the linguistic and gestural components use the same articulators. Okrent (this volume) discusses at length this aspect of Liddell’s proposal, and provides helpful information about gesture accompanying spoken languages by which to evaluate the proposal that verbs combine linguistic and gestural elements in sign language. 10.5.1

Predictions of this account

The main claim of this account is that while a first person/nonfirst person distinction exists in the syntax of ASL, no further person distinctions are made in the syntax. This is not, of course, to say that all nonfirst forms are equivalent to each other; clearly, coreference requires use of the same location; however, according to this proposal this is not a syntactic requirement, but one of a different level. If a signer intends to pick out the same referent twice, then both instances


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must use the same R locus. This is so for all instances of intended coreference within a discourse, unless a new location is established for a referent, either through repeating a location-assigning procedure or through processes that displace referents (Padden 1983). Within a sentence, multiple occasions of picking out the same referent will also be subject to this requirement. One type of such within-sentence coreference is the two uses of the pronoun in sentences like the ASL sentence meaning ‘Hej thinks hej will win.’ Another type is the coreference between a noun phrase and its “copy” in “subject pronoun copy” (Padden 1983). The various mechanisms for picking out a referent must be directed at the same location. However, what that location is need not be specified in the syntax. Any two instances of coindexing must employ the same location. This does not mean, however, that a categorial distinction is being made between the various possible locations for that referent. In this context, note the observation made by McBurney (this volume) that no two lexical signs contrast for their locations in “neutral space.” Apparently, the spatial contrasts used in agreement are not lexically relevant. The claim here is that they are also not syntactically relevant. If the difference between various nonfirst locations is irrelevant to the syntax, this means that no syntactic principle or process would treat a location on the right, say, differently from a location on the left. On the other hand, the syntax may treat the first person forms differently from the nonfirst forms as a group. Various arguments that the first person form is distinct in this way were offered in the discussion of Meier’s (1990) proposal for a two person system. Another argument he offered has to do with the use of the first person form in what is commonly known as “role shifting,” to which I would like to add some comments. Meier observed that the first person pronoun may pick out a referent other than the signer, in contexts of “role shifting.” This technique is used for reported speech, but also more broadly to indicate that a scene is being conveyed from the point of view of someone other than the signer. Just as in the English example, ‘Bush said, “I won,” ’ or perhaps, ‘Bush is like, “wow, I won!” ’ the first person pronoun may be used when quoting the words or thoughts or perspective of another. What is important for the present purposes is that this special characteristic is reserved for the first person pronoun. Other pronouns do not “shift” during role shift (as pointed out by Engberg-Pedersen 1995; also Liddell 1994). In LilloMartin and Klima (1990) and Lillo-Martin (1995) we compared the special characteristics of the first person pronoun to logophoric elements in languages such as Ewe and Gokana. These elements have special interpretations in certain contexts, such as reported speech or verbs reflecting point of view. Many other proposals have also been made regarding the analysis of “role shift” (see, for example, Engberg-Pedersen 1995; Poulin and Miller 1995). Whatever the best analysis for the shifting nature of the first person pronoun in ASL, it is clear that

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the grammar must be able to refer to the first person form separately from the nonfirst forms. However, it never seems to be necessary to refer to the nonfirst form in location “a” distinct from the nonfirst form in location “b.” Another prediction of this account is that there may be certain special situations in which the first/nonfirst contrast is evident, but the contrast between different nonfirst locations is neutralized. One such special situation may come up in children acquiring ASL. Loew (1984) observed that a three-year-old child acquiring ASL went through a stage in which different nonfirst characters in a single discourse were all assigned the same locus: a so-called “stacking” error. At this point, however, children do not generally make errors with the first person form. This contrast has generally been seen as one showing that children acquire correct use of pronouns and verb agreement for present referents earlier than they do for nonpresent referents. However, it is also compatible with the suggestion that they might first acquire the first/nonfirst contrast, and only later acquire the distinction between different nonfirst locations. Poizner et al. (1987) observed the opposite problem in one of their aphasic signers, Paul D. He made numerous errors with verbal morphology. One example cited is the use of three different spatial loci when the same location was required. However, this error was with spatial verbs (i.e. with verbs that mark locative arguments), not verbs marking agreement with human arguments. It would be interesting to know if Paul D made any similar errors with agreeing verbs. It would also be helpful to re-evaluate data from children, aphasics, and perhaps other special populations, to look for evidence that the first–nonfirst contrast may be treated differently from the contrast between various nonfirst forms in these populations. 10.6

Other alternatives

The view of agreement and pronouns suggested here is a blend of ideas from various sources. In this section I mention a few other views and try to clarify what my view shares with the others, and how they are distinct. Aronoff et al. (in submission) view agreement in general as a process of copying referential indices. Syntactically, this process is universal; but morphological manifestations of agreement vary greatly from language to language. Their view of agreement in sign languages is that it consists of copying referential indices, such that the referential index of the source argument is copied onto the initial location segment of agreeing verbs, and the index of the goal argument onto the final location segment. They specify source and goal locations rather than subject and object, following Meir’s (1998) analysis of agreement as marking source–goal by the path of movement, and subject–object by “facing.” Then, in addition to specifying locations, the process of agreement provides information about the verb’s facing (toward the object).


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I find their view of agreement as copying (or perhaps checking) referential indices felicitous. Aronoff et al. present empirical evidence for this view from a fascinating example of a rare type of spoken language agreement that takes a form remarkably parallel to that of sign languages. For example, in Bainouk (a Niger-Congo language), certain forms (such as loan words) are outside of the regular gender agreement system. In such cases, rather than showing no agreement at all in the relevant contexts, an agreeing form may copy the first consonant–vowel (CV) of the noun stem. This kind of system is called “literal alliterative agreement.” McBurney (this volume) provides an extensive array of reference systems across spoken languages, none of which pick out referents in the same way as signed languages. Without having had access to the facts of Bainouk, she suggests that a hypothetical spoken language might copy some phonological feature of a noun’s root for further reference. It would seem that Bainouk provides a real example of a language employing such means in its agreement system. Granted, this type of agreement is very rare in spoken languages, but it indicates that the human language faculty has the capacity to develop an agreement system that uses copying of the form of one element onto another. However, Aronoff et al. point out an important difference between literal alliterative agreement and agreement in sign language: “the R-loci that nouns are associated with are not part of their phonological representations and are not lexical properties of the nouns in any way.” This detail points to the problem that led Liddell – and me – to posit a gestural component to agreement in sign language. Aronoff et al. reject this idea explicitly, citing evidence (such as that discussed above) for the linguistic status of agreement. As I have stated, unlike Liddell I do not reject the linguistic status of agreement. Another proposal which maintains the linguistic status of agreement while admitting a gestural component is that of Mathur (2000). Mathur is concerned with answering Liddell’s challenge to specify phonologically the output of the agreement rule. Mathur’s proposal represents an attempt to go beyond specifying the path movement (and facing) of agreeing verbs, in order to fully characterize the changes in location, movement, orientation, and handedness that verbs experience under agreement; this includes the different outputs for different agreeing forms of the same verb. To do so, Mathur suggests envisioning the base form of the verb within a sphere that rotates. The sphere is marked with endpoints that move to align with the loci of the subject and object. The output of agreement is then a result of the base form of the verb, alignment of the sphere, and phonetic constraints on articulation. Mathur recognizes the problem posed by Liddell regarding the analyzability of loci. In response he follows Liddell in concluding that the linguistic component must connect with the gestural for the specification of loci: specifically, for the specification of the endpoints with which the sphere aligns. Mathur (2000)

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adopts the Theory of Distributed Morphology (Halle and Marantz 1993), under which the morphological component is reserved for processes of affixation. In Mathur’s model of align-sphere, agreement is not a process of affixation; rather, it is a “re-adjustment” rule. He hence puts agreement at the phonological level. Mathur discusses extensively the phonological effects of agreement, and he shows evidence that the location of endpoints does have an effect on the output of the agreement process. For example, for a right-handed signer, articulating an agreeing verb such as WARN with a subject location on the right and object location on the left presents no problem. However, if the subject location is on the left and the object location is on the right, the regular output of the alignment process would violate phonetic constraints on ASL (in fact, it would be impossible to articulate, given the physical constraints of the human body). Instead, some other form must be used, such as changing hand dominance for this sign or omitting the subject agreement marker. This shows that the output of the phonological process is affected by the specific locations used in the sign. This conclusion is compatible with Mathur’s proposal that the whole process of agreement is phonological, and that the phonological component accesses the gestural. The idea that agreement as a re-adjustment rule is purely phonological leads to the expectation that it has no syntactic effects, since phonological re-adjustment rules do not apply until after syntax. However, we have seen evidence for syntactic effects of agreement in Section 10.3.3. Independently, Rathmann and Mathur (this volume) have identified additional syntactic effects of agreement. Accordingly, the more recent work develops Mathur’s (2000) proposal by putting forth a model of agreement that contains an explicit “gestural space” connecting conceptual structure with the articulatory–perceptual interface, but also including syntactic aspects of agreement within the syntactic structure. In this way, the syntactic effects can be accounted for without losing the detailed account of the articulation of agreeing verbs developed previously. 10.7

Conclusions

I have argued that there is a linguistic process of agreement in ASL, but I have agreed with Liddell that in order to account for this process fully some integration of linguistic and gestural components must be made. It is interesting that I come to this conclusion given my working assumptions and theoretical framework, which are quite distinct from his in many ways. Much further work remains to be done on this issue. In particular, stronger evidence for the interaction of verb agreement with syntax should be sought. Additional evidence regarding the status of the various nonfirst loci is also needed. Another domain for future research concerns the very similar problems


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that arise for spatial verbs and classifiers. Although these predicates do not indicate human arguments, they make use of space in a way that poses the same challenge to componential analysis as the agreeing verbs. This challenge should be further investigated under an approach that combines gestural and linguistic components. Finally, in answering the question that forms the title of this chapter, I have focused on separating phonology from syntax. A deeper understanding of modality effects must explore this putative separation further, and also delve into the phonological component, examining where modality effects are found – and not found – within this part of the grammar. Acknowledgments This research was supported in part by NIH grant number DC-00183. My thoughts on the issues discussed here profited from extensive discussions about verb agreement in sign language with Gaurav Mathur. I would also like to thank the organizers, presenters, and audience of the Texas Linguistics Society meeting on which this volume is based for an energizing and thought-provoking meeting. It was a pleasure to attend a conference which was so well-focused and informative. I have also had productive conversations about these issues with many people, among whom Karen Emmorey and Richard Meier were especially helpful. Richard Meier also provided helpful comments on the written version. Finally, I would like to acknowledge the graduate students in my course on the structure of ASL who – several years ago – encouraged me to consider the idea that the spatial “problems” of ASL could be addressed by an analysis employing gesture. 10.8

References

Ahlgren, Inger. 1990. Deictic pronouns in Swedish and Swedish Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan Fischer and Patricia Siple, 167–174. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Aronoff, Mark, Irit Meir, and Wendy Sandler. In submission. Universal and particular aspects of sign language morphology. Bahan, Benjamin. 1996. Non-manual realization of agreement in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, Boston University, Boston, MA. Bos, Heleen. 1994. An auxiliary in Sign Language of the Netherlands. In Perspectives on sign language structure: Papers from the 5th International Symposium on sign language research, ed. Inger Ahlgren, Brita Bergman and Mary Brennan, 37–53. Durham: International Sign Linguistics Association, University of Durham. Chomsky, Noam. 1977. Essays on form and interpretation. New York: North-Holland. Chomsky, Noam. 1981. Lectures on government and binding. Dordrecht: Foris. Chomsky, Noam. 1995. The minimalist program. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

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DeMateo, Asa. 1977. Visual imagery and visual analogues in American Sign Language. In On the other hand: New perspectives on American Sign Language, ed. Lynn Friedman, 109–136. New York: Academic Press. Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth. 1993. Space in Danish Sign Language. Hamburg: SignumVerlag. Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth. 1995. Point of view expressed through shifters. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 133–154. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Fischer, Susan D. 1974. Sign language and linguistic universals. Paper presented at Actes du Colloque Franco-Allemand de Grammaire Transformationnelle, Tübingen. Fischer, Susan D. 1996. The role of agreement and auxiliaries in sign language. Lingua 98:103–120. Halle, Morris and Alec Marantz. 1993. Distributed Morphology and the pieces of inflection. In The view from Building 20: Essays in linguistics in honor of Sylvain Bromberger, ed. Ken Hale and Samuel J. Keyser, 111–176. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Jackendoff, Ray. 1997. The architecture of the language faculty. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Janis, Wynne. 1995. A crosslinguistic perspective on ASL verb agreement. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 195–223. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Japan Sign Language Research Institute (Nihon syuwa kerkyuusho), ed. 1997. Japanese Sign Language dictionary (Nihongo-syuwa diten). Tokyo: Japan Federation of the Deaf. Liddell, Scott K. 1990. Four functions of a locus: Reexamining the structure of space in ASL. In Sign language research: Theoretical issues, ed. Ceil Lucas, 176–198. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Liddell, Scott K. 1994. Tokens and surrogates. In Perspectives on sign language structure: Papers from the 5th International Symposium on Sign Language Research, ed. Inger Ahlgren, Brita Bergman and Mary Brennan, 105–119. Durham: International Sign Linguistics Association, University of Durham. Liddell, Scott K. 1995. Real, surrogate, and token space: Grammatical consequences in ASL. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 19–41. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Liddell, Scott K. 2000. Indicating verbs and pronouns: Pointing away from agreement. In The signs of language revisited: An anthology to honor Ursula Bellugi and Edward Klima, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 303–320. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1986. Two kinds of null arguments in American Sign Language. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 4:415–444. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1991. Universal grammar and American Sign Language: Setting the null argument parameters. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1995. The point of view predicate in American Sign Language. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 155–170. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1997. The modular effects of sign language acquisition. In Relations of language and thought: The view from sign language and deaf children, ed.


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Marc Marschark, Patricia Siple, Diane Lillo-Martin, Ruth Campbell and Victoria Everhart, 62–109. New York: Oxford University Press. Lillo-Martin, Diane, and Edward S. Klima. 1990. Pointing out differences: ASL pronouns in syntactic theory. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple, 191–210. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Loew, Ruth. 1984. Roles and reference in American Sign Language: A developmental perspective. Doctoral dissertation, University of Minnesota, MN. Mathur, Gaurav. 2000. Verb agreement as alignment in signed languages. Doctoral dissertation, MIT, Cambridge, MA. Mathur, Gaurav and Christian Rathmann. 2001. Why not GIVE-US: an articulatory constraint in signed languages. In Signed languages: Discoveries from international research, ed. V. Dively, M. Metzger, S. Taub and A. Baer, 1–26. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Meier, Richard P. 1982. Icons, analogues, and morphemes: The acquisition of verb agreement in ASL. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. Meier, Richard P. 1990. Person deixis in American Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple, 175–190. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Meier, Richard P. 2002. The acquisition of verb agreement: Pointing out arguments for the linguistic status of agreement in signed languages. In Current developments in the study of signed language acquisition, ed. Gary Morgan and Bencie Woll. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Meir, Irit. 1998. Thematic structure and verb agreement in Israeli Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Neidle, Carol, Judy Kegl, Dawn MacLaughlin, Benjamin Bahan, and Robert G. Lee. 2000. The syntax of American Sign Language: Functional categories and hierarchical structure. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Padden, Carol A. 1983. Interaction of morphology and syntax in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. Padden, Carol A. 1990. The relation between space and grammar in ASL verb morphology. In Sign language research: Theoretical issues, ed. Ceil Lucas, 118–132. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Poizner, Howard, Edward S. Klima, and Ursula Bellugi. 1987. What the hands reveal about the brain. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Poulin, Christine and Christopher Miller. 1995. On narrative discourse and point of view in Quebec Sign Language. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 117–131. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Quadros, Ronice Müller de. 1999. Phrase structure of Brazilian Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, Pontif´ıcia Universidade Católica do Rio Grande do Sul. Rathmann, Christian. 2000. The optionality of Agreement Phrase: Evidence from signed languages. Masters report, University of Texas, Austin, TX. Sandler, Wendy. 1989. Phonological representation of the sign: Linearity and nonlinearity in ASL phonology. Dordrecht: Foris. Sandler, Wendy. 1993. Sign language and modularity. Lingua 89:315–351. Sandler, Wendy, and Diane Lillo-Martin. 2001. Natural sign languages. In The handbook of linguistics, ed. Mark Aronoff and Jamie Rees-Miller, 533–562. Malden, MA: Blackwell.

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Senghas, Ann. 2000. The development of early spatial morphology in Nicaraguan Sign Language. In The Proceedings of the Boston University Conference on Language Development, ed. S.C. Howell, S.A. Fish and T. Keith-Lucas, 696–707. Boston, MA: Cascadilla Press. Senghas, Ann, Marie Coppola, Elissa Newport, and Ted Supalla. 1997. Argument structure in Nicaraguan Sign Language: The emergence of grammatical devices. In The Proceedings of the Boston University Conference on Language Development, ed. E. Hughes, M. Hughes and A. Greenhill, 550–561. Boston, MA: Cascadilla Press. Smith, Wayne. 1990. Evidence for auxiliaries in Taiwan Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Volume 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple, 211–228. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Supalla, Ted. 1982. Structure and acquisition of verbs of motion and location in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. van der Hulst, Harry. 2000. Modularity and modality in phonology. In Phonological knowledge: Conceptual and empirical issues, ed. Noel Burton-Roberts, Philip Carr and Gerard Docherty. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

11

Applying morphosyntactic and phonological readjustment rules in natural language negation Roland Pfau

11.1

Introduction

As is well known, negation in natural languages comes in many different forms. Crosslinguistically, we observe differences concerning the morphological character of the Neg (negation) element as well as concerning its structural position within a sentence. For instance, while many languages make use of an independent Neg particle (e.g. English and German), in others, the Neg element is affixal in nature and attaches to the verb (e.g. Turkish and French). Moreover, a Neg particle may appear in sentence-initial position, preverbally, postverbally, or in sentence-final position (for comprehensive typological surveys of negation, see Dahl 1979; 1993; Payne 1985). In this chapter I am concerned with morphosyntactic and phonological properties of sentential negation in some spoken languages as well as in German Sign Language (Deutsche Gebärdensprache or DGS) and American Sign Language (ASL). Sentential negation in DGS (as well as in other sign languages) is particularly interesting because it involves a manual and a nonmanual element, namely the manual Neg sign NICHT ‘not’ and a headshake that is associated with the predicate. Despite this peculiarity, I show that on the morphosyntactic side of the Neg construction, we do not need to refer to any modality-specific structures and principles. Rather, the same structures and principles that allow for the derivation of negated sentences in spoken languages are also capable of accounting for the sign language data. On the phonological side, however, we do of course observe modality-specific differences; those are due to the different articulators used. Consequently, in a phonological feature hierarchy for signed languages (like the one proposed for ASL by Brentari 1998), reference must be made to qualitatively different features. In order to investigate the precise nature of the modality effect, I first show how in some spoken languages certain readjustment rules may affect phonological or morphosyntactic features in the context of negation. In the Western Sudanic language Gã, for example, the Neg suffix triggers a change of tone within the verb stem to which it is attached. I claim that, in exactly the same way, phonological readjustment rules in DGS may change 263

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the surface form of a given sign by accessing the nonmanual node of a feature hierarchy. This chapter is organized as follows: In Section 11.2 I give a short sketch of the basic assumptions of the theoretical framework I adopt, namely the framework of Distributed Morphology. Once equipped with the theoretical tools, I demonstrate in Section 11.3 how negated structures in various languages can uniformly be derived within this framework. In order to exemplify the relevant mechanisms, I use negation data from French (Section 11.3.1), Háusá (Section 11.3.2), Gã (Section 11.3.3), and DGS (Section 11.3.4). In Section 11.3.5 the analysis given for DGS is motivated by a comparison of DGS and ASL. The discussion of the Gã and DGS examples illustrates the important role of readjustment rules. Further instances of the application of different readjustment rules in the context of negation are presented in Section 4. Finally, in Section 5, I focus on possible modality-specific properties of negation. In particular, I compare properties of tone spreading in spoken languages to properties of nonmanual spreading in DGS. 11.2

Distributed morphology

In my brief description of the central ideas of Distributed Morphology I concentrate on those aspects of the theory that are relevant for the subsequent discussion of spoken and signed language data (for a more comprehensive account, see Harley and Noyer 1999). In the view of Distributed Morphology (Halle 1990; 1994; Halle and Marantz 1993; 1994), morphology is not restricted to one component of the grammar; rather it is taken to be distributed among several different components. Consequently, word formation may take place at any level of grammar by operations such as head movement and merger of adjacent heads. Figure 11.1 illustrates the five-level conception of the grammar as adopted by Halle and Marantz (1993), also indicating what operations are assumed to take place at what level. Three aspects of the theory are of major importance in the present context. First, the theory of Distributed Morphology (DM) is separationistic in nature in that it adopts the idea that the mechanisms that are responsible for producing the form of syntactico-semantically complex expressions are separated from the mechanisms that produce the form of the corresponding phonological expression. Thus, one of the core assumptions of DM is that the terminal nodes that are manipulated at the syntactic levels LF (Logical Form), DS (Deep Structure) and SS (Surface Structure) consist of morphosyntactic and semantic features only. The assignment of phonological features to those morphosyntactic feature bundles does not take place until the level of Morphological Structure (MS), which is the interface between syntax and phonology. The mechanism responsible for the assignment of phonological features is the vocabulary insertion.

Morphosyntactic and phonological readjustment rules

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DS (Deep Structure) manipulation of morphosyntactic and semantic feature bundles (via movement and merger) SS (Surface Structure)

MS (Morphological Structure)

morphological operations (e.g. merger, fusion), addition of morphemes (e.g. Agr), application of readjustment rules

PF (Phonological Form)

assignment of phonological features via Vocabulary insertion, phonological readjustment rules

LF (Logical Form)

Figure 11.1 Five-level conception of grammar Source: Halle and Marantz 1993

A second important characteristic is that there is no one-to-one relation between terminal elements in the syntax and phonological pieces at PF (Phonological Form). Possible mismatches are the result of operations that manipulate terminal elements at MS. The operation fusion, for instance, reduces the number of independent morphemes by fusing two sister nodes into a single node; for example, fusion of Tns and AgrS into a single morpheme in English and fusion of case and number morphemes in Russian (Halle 1994). Moreover, only at MS may morphemes be inserted; subject–verb agreement, for example, is implemented by adjunction of an Agr morpheme to the Tns node. Subsequently, features of the subject are copied onto the Agr node. Third, at the levels of MS and PF, readjustment rules may apply. One set of rules manipulates morphosyntactic features in the context of other features; when a rule deletes a feature, it is called an impoverishment rule (see Halle 1997; Noyer 1998). Since the selection of a Vocabulary item crucially depends on the feature composition of a terminal node, these morphosyntactic readjustment rules must apply before Vocabulary insertion takes place. The other set of rules changes the phonological form of already inserted Vocabulary items (phonological readjustment); therefore, these rules must apply after Vocabulary insertion.1 Various examples for the different kinds of readjustment rules are given below. 1

Note that phonological readjustment rules are triggered by the morphological environment; that is, an affix causes a phonological change in the stem it attaches to (e.g. umlaut formation in some German plural nouns: Haus ‘house’ → Häus-er ‘house-pl’). They are therefore to be distinguished from other phonological alterations like assimilation rules (e.g. place assimilation in the words imperfect vs. indefinite) or final devoicing.

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11.3

The derivation of negated sentences

In this section I take a closer look at sentential negation in some spoken languages as well as in German Sign Language (DGS). In particular, I show how negated structures are derived within the DM framework by means of verb movement (or movement of another head constituent) in the syntax, addition of agreement morphemes at the level of MS, Vocabulary insertion and, sometimes, through the application of morphosyntactic or phonological readjustment rules. My spoken language sample (Sections 11.3.1–11.3.3, and Section 11.4) is of course not a random one. All the languages I discuss either show split negation (at least optionally) or the data involve the application of readjustment rules; for some of the languages both are true. This particular choice of data is due to the fact that, in my opinion, DGS shows exactly the same pattern, that is, split negation and phonological readjustment. Moreover, the five languages that I will analyze in more detail – namely French, Háusá, Gã, DGS, and ASL – differ from each other in important respects as far as the syntactic structures and the syntactic status of their Neg elements are concerned. Within a generative framework, the distribution of Neg elements in a sentence is captured by the assumption that the functional element Neg heads a phrase of its own, a negation phrase (NegP). Within a NegP, two positions are available, namely the head position and the specifier position. In case both positions are filled we are dealing with an instance of split negation (as, for example, in French). Whenever the element in head position is attached to the verb stem in the course of the derivation by moving the verbal head to Neg, we observe morphological negation (as, for example, in Turkish). The specifier (Spec) and the head of NegP stand in a Spec–head relationship. If Spec is empty, this position must be filled by an empty operator in order to satisfy the so-called Neg-criterion (Haegeman and Zanuttini 1991; Haegeman 1995).2 11.3.1

French

Probably the best known language with split negation is French. In French, negation manifests itself in the two Neg elements ne and pas which frame the verb; in colloquial speech the preverbal element ne may be dropped. Consider the examples in (1). 2

The Neg-criterion: (a) A Neg-operator must be in a Spec-head configuration with an X◦ [Neg]; (b) An X◦ [Neg] must be in a Spec-head configuration with a Neg-operator. A Neg-operator is a negative phrase in a scope position; taken from Haegeman (1995:106).


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Split negation in French a. Nous oubli-er-ons les choses We forget-fut-1.pl the things ‘We will forget the unpleasant things.’ b. Nous n’-oubli-er-ons pas les We neg-forget-fut-1.pl neg the ‘We will not forget the unpleasant things.’

désagréables. unpleasant choses désagréables. things unpleasant

Following Pollock (1989) and Ouhalla (1990), I assume that ne is the head of the NegP while pas is its specifier. The tree structure in (2a) is adopted from Pollock 1989; however, due to DM assumptions, there is no agreement projection present in the syntax. In order to derive the surface serialization, the verb is raised. It adjoins first to Neg and, in a second step, the newly formed complex is adjoined to Tns. These movement operations are indicated by the arrows in (2a). (2)

a. Verb movement in French

b. Adjoined structure under Tns after insertion of AgrS node

TnsP Tns Tns -er

NegP Spec pas

Neg Neg

Neg'

Neg (ne-)

Tns V Tns

AgrS

VP V

DP

oublie

The tree within the circle in (2b) shows the full detail of the adjoined structure under the Tns node after verb movement.3 At MS subject agreement is 3

The reader will notice that the derivation of the complex verb in the tree structure (2a) – as well as in the structures to follow – involves a combination of left and right adjunction. I assume that the prefix or suffix status of a given functional head is determined by its feature composition; French Neg, for example, is marked as a prefix while Tns constitutes a suffix. Rajesh Bhatt (personal communication) points out to me that within the DM framework, such an assumption may be superfluous since DM provides a mechanism, namely merger, which is capable of rearranging hierarchical structures at MS. In the present context, however, space does not permit me to go into this matter any further.

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implemented as a sister node of Tns (in this and the following structures, the agreement nodes that are inserted at MS are marked by a square). As a consequence, the derived structure of the French verb is [Neg–Verb–Tns–AgrS], as shown by the verb in (1b). The Vocabulary item for French Neg (that is, for the negative head) is given in (3); no readjustment rules apply. (3)

Vocabulary item for Neg in French [neg]

↔

/ne-/

Consequently, the characteristics of French negation are as follows: French shows split negation. The negative head ne is affixal in nature and is attached to the verb in the syntax while pas is a free particle. Since ne may be dropped in colloquial speech, we must assume that the head of NegP may be filled by an empty affix (Pollock 1989; Ouhalla 1990).4 In French, NegP stands below TnsP and has its specifier on the left-hand side.

11.3.2

Háusá

Háusá is a Chadic language and is the most widely spoken language of West Africa. It is the lingua franca of Northern Nigeria, where it is the first language of at least 25 million people. There are also about five million speakers in neighboring Niger. The properties of negation in Háusá are somewhat different from the ones observed in French. As can be seen in the affirmative sentence in (4a), the tense– aspect and agreement morphemes in Háusá surface preverbally as a functional complex while the verb remains uninflected (Caron 1990).5 In all aspects except the progressive, negation consists of two elements: the first Neg element, a lowtoned bà, is part of the functional complex; the second Neg element, a high-toned bá, appears in sentence-final position (4b). 4

5

Otherwise, Colloquial French would present us with a situation that is at odds with the principles of X-bar theory, namely a situation where the head of a projection is missing. Therefore, the head of the French NegP is assumed to be realized as an abstract morpheme in much the same way that the English Agr paradigm is realized in terms of abstract elements. Ouhalla (1990) proposes to extend this analysis to the group of languages in which the negation element seems to have adverb-like properties: in all of these, he concludes, the Neg elements are specifiers of a NegP whose head is an abstract morpheme. One might be tempted to analyze the preverbal functional complex as being prefixed to the verb. Such an analysis is, however, not corroborated by the facts since certain emphatic and adverbial particles may appear between the functional complex and the verb, as for example in Náa´ kúsá káa´ màa` sh´ı ‘1.sg.perf almost catch him’ (‘I almost caught him’; example from Hartmann 1999).


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Split negation in Háusá (Hartmann 1999) a. Kàndé tá-kàn dáfà Kandé 3.sg.f-hab cook ‘Kandé usually cooks fish.’ b. Kàndé bà-tá-kàn dáfà Kandé neg-3.sg.f-hab cook ‘Kandé usually does not cook fish.’

k´ı´ıf´ı´ı. fish k´ı´ıf´ı´ı fish

bá. neg

In the syntactic tree structure, the first Neg element is the head of NegP while the second Neg element occupies a right specifier of NegP. Hartmann (1999) assumes that the Háusá verb is not moved at all. What is moved – at least in negated sentences – is the negative head, which raises and adjoins to Asp in the syntax. I also follow Hartmann (1999) in assuming that there is no Tns projection in Háusá syntax; rather, all temporal information is supplied by aspectual suffixes. The tree in (5a) illustrates the relevant movement operation. (5)

a. Neg movement in Háusá

b. Adjoined structure under Asp after insertion of AgrS node Asp

AspP

Neg DP

Asp' Asp

−kàn

Asp

AgrS

Asp

NegP Neg'

Neg  bà−

V  dáfà

VP

Spec  bá

DP

Again, the circle in (5b) gives full details of the adjoined structure. At MS an agreement morpheme is inserted as a sister of the Asp node. Therefore, the structure of the Háusá preverbal functional complex is [Neg–AgrS–Asp]; cf. (4b).

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Example (6) shows the Vocabulary item for the negative head in Háusá, a low tone prefix. Again, as in French, no readjustment of any kind takes place. (6)

Vocabulary item for Neg in Háusá [neg]

↔

/bà-/

In Háusá, AgrS and Asp are sometimes fused; this is true, for example, for the perfective aspect. As mentioned above, fusion reduces the number of terminal nodes and only one Vocabulary item that matches the morphosyntactic features of the fused node is inserted; cf. (7a). In a negative perfective sentence, fusion may even take place twice and consequently only one Vocabulary item is inserted for the whole functional complex; cf. (7b). (7)

Fusion of functional heads in Háusá (Hartmann 1999) a. Kàndé táa´ Kandé 3.sg.f.asp(perf) ‘Kandé cooked fish.’

dáfà cook

k´ı´ıf´ı´ı. fish

b. Ubán-k`ı bài b´ıyá Father-your neg.3.sg.asp(perf) pay ‘Your father did not pay the money.’

kúδ´ı´ı money

bá. neg

To sum up, we may note the following: As in French, we observe split negation in Háusá which is a combination of morphological and particle negation; the negative head bà- attaches to the aspect node while the particle bá appears in sentence-final position. The syntactic structure, however, is different. The NegP stands below Asp and – in contrast to the French facts – has a right specifier position.

11.3.3

Gã (Gan)

The third spoken language I describe in more detail is the language Gã. Gã is a Western Sudanic language spoken by about one million people in Ghana in the coastal area around the capital Accra. In Gã the realization of Neg on the verb depends on the tense specification of the sentence, the most interesting case being the past tense. In the past tense, there is no visible Neg suffix. However, the shape of the verbal stem is altered: the last vowel of the stem is lengthened and its tone is raised (8b). In the perfect tense the suffix -kò is used and, moreover, there is a tone change in the stem (8d). Also, in the negated future there is no tense affix on the verb and the Neg suffix -η appears (8f).


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Negation in Gã (Ablorh-Odjidja 1968) a. M`ı-gbè gbèe´ kò. 1.sg.past-kill dog art ‘I killed a dog.’

b. M`ı-gbée gbèe´ kò. 1.sg.past-kill.neg dog art ‘I did not kill a dog.’

c. M´ı-yè n´ı `ı mómó. d. M´ı-yé-kò nókò. 1.sg.perf-eat meal already 1.sg.perf-eat-neg something ‘I have already eaten my meal.’ ‘I have not eaten anything.’ ` aa´ -hòo´ e. E-b` wónù. 3.sg.fut-cook soup ‘He/she will cook soup.’

` oo´ -η f. E-h` wónù. 3.sg-cook-neg.fut soup ‘He/she will not cook soup.’

In (9a) the derivation is exemplified for the inflected past tense verb in (8b). In the syntax, the verb is raised to Neg and then to Tns. This leads to the adjoined structure in (9b), which is a mirror image of what we have observed for French above. (9)

a. Verb movement in Gã

b. Adjoined structure under Tns after insertion of AgrS node Tns

TnsP Tns DP

Tns' Tns

AgrS

Tns V

Neg Neg

NegP

Spec Neg  −Ø

Neg' VP V  gbè

DP

At MS, AgrS and Tns fuse in the past (8a,b) and perfect (8c,d) tense and the Vocabulary items m`ı- and m´ı-, respectively, are inserted under the fused node. In the affirmative future (8e), however, fusion does not take place. Since there is no tense prefix in the negative future (8f ), we must assume either that the tense feature is deleted or that Tns fuses with Neg. As we have seen above, each tense specification implies the insertion of a different Neg morpheme. The Vocabulary items for Neg are given in (10).

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(10)

Vocabulary items for Neg in Gã [neg] [neg] [neg]

↔ -Ø ↔ /-kò/ ↔ /-η/

/ [+past] / [+perf] / [+fut]

In contrast to French and Háusá, phonological readjustment plays an important role in Gã in the context of negation. The readjustment rules in (11) account for the stem internal changes in the past and perfect tense, a change from low to high tone in both cases and, moreover, vowel lengthening in the past tense. It is particularly interesting that the observed changes are triggered by an empty suffix in the past tense, implying that negation manifests in high tone and vowel lengthening alone. (11)

Readjustment rules triggered by Neg (tone change) a. V]Verb

V]Verb / [neg] [+past] [H] [+long]

b. V]Verb

V]Verb / [neg] [+perf] [H]

In Section 11.3.4 I show that the Gã past tense pattern parallels the one we observe in DGS. Before doing so, however, let me sum up the facts for Gã. In contrast to French and Háusá, Gã does not make use of split negation. Once again, the head of the NegP is affixal in nature, but this time the specifier position is empty (that is, there is an empty operator in SpecNegP). Most remarkably, in the past tense the specifier as well as the head of NegP are void of phonological material; there is, however, an empty affix in Neg (as in colloquial French) that triggers the obligatory readjustment rule in (11a). In Gã (as in French), the NegP is situated below Tns and shows a left specifier. 11.3.4

German Sign Language (DGS)

As mentioned earlier, sentential negation in signed languages is particularly interesting because it comprises a manual and a nonmanual component. The manual part is a Neg sign which is optional, while the nonmanual part is a headshake. This pattern has been observed for various signed languages.6 6

For American SL, see, for example, Liddell 1980; Veinberg and Wilbur 1990; Neidle et al. 2000; for Swedish SL, see Bergman 1995; for Norwegian SL, see Vogt-Svendsen 2000; for Dutch SL, see Coerts 1990; for British SL, see Deuchar 1984; for French SL, see Rondal et al. 1997; for Swiss German SL, see Boyes Braem 1995; for Argentine SL, see Veinberg 1993; for Chilean SL, see Pilleux 1991; for Pakistani SL, see Zeshan 1997.


273

In DGS the negative headshake (hs) is obligatory and is necessarily associated with the predicate (be it verbal, adjectival, or nominal). Moreover, the optional manual Neg sign NICHT ‘not’ is one of the very few elements that may follow the verb as is illustrated in (12b). (12)

Negation in DGS a. MUTTER BLUME KAUF mother flower buy ‘Mother buys a flower.’ hs b. MUTTER BLUME KAUF mother flower buy.neg ‘Mother does not buy a flower.’

hs (NICHT) (not)

DGS is a strict subject–object–verb (SOV) language which does not exhibit any asymmetries between matrix sentences and embedded sentences like, for example, spoken German.7 The structure in (13) represents the (partial) syntactic tree structure we assume for DGS (Glück and Pfau 1999; Pfau 2001). (13)

a. Verb movement in DGS NegP Neg' NICHT TnsP DP

−Ø

Tns' VP

DP

Neg

Tns

V  KAUF

Neg Neg

Tns Tns

V

b. Adjoined structure under Neg 7

With (di)transitive verbs that require two human arguments, a person agreement marker (PAM) often finds use in DGS. Rathmann (2000) points out there is an interesting correlation between the presence of a PAM and word order, that is, whenever a PAM is present, the word order is more flexible. Rathmann (2000) also claims that there is a [±PAM] parameter for signed languages and that only [+PAM]-languages allow for the projection of an AgrP while [−PAM]-languages (as e.g. ASL) do not (see also Rathmann 2001).

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As can be seen, I assume that from a typological point of view DGS belongs to the class of languages with split negation. The manual sign NICHT is base generated in the specifier position of the Neg phrase while the head of the NegP contains an empty affix that is attached to the verb stem in the course of the derivation (for motivation of this analysis, see Section 11.3.5). In the syntax, the verb raises to Tns and then to Neg. Note that I do not consider agreement verbs in the present context (on the implementation of agreement nodes, see Glück and Pfau 1999 and Pfau and Glück 1999). In the case of a plain verb – as in (12) – insertion of agreement morphemes does not take place. The Vocabulary item for Neg in DGS is a zero affix: (14)

Vocabulary item for Neg in DGS [neg]

↔

-Ø

As in the Gã past tense, the Neg feature realized by the empty affix triggers a phonological readjustment rule that leads to a stem-internal modification. In DGS, the rule in (15) applies to the nonmanual component of the featural description of the verb sign by adding a headshake to the nonmanual node of the phonological feature hierarchy (for discussion, see Section 11.5).8 (15)

Readjustment rule triggered by Neg (addition of nonmanual feature) nonmanual → nonmanual

/

[neg]

[headshake] Note that it is not at all uncommon for empty affixes to trigger readjustment rules in spoken languages either. For example, ablaut in the English past tense form sang is triggered by an empty Tns node, while in the German plural noun Väter ‘fathers’ (singular Vater) umlaut is triggered by an empty plural suffix. Sentential negation in DGS is therefore characterized by the following facts: Like French and Háusá, DGS belongs to the group of languages that show split negation. The manual element NICHT is base generated in SpecNegP; this element is, however, optional. (In this respect DGS differs from French where the negative head was shown to be optional.) As far as the negative head is concerned, DGS resembles the Gã past tense in that an empty affix occupies this position that is capable of triggering a phonological readjustment rule. Since NICHT appears in sentence-final position, I assume that SpecNegP in DGS (as in Háusá) is on the right. 8

In the present chapter I focus on negation in DGS. For a more comprehensive Distributed Morphology account of verbal inflection in DGS (e.g. Vocabulary items for agreement morphemes and phonological readjustment rules triggered by empty aspect and agreement [classifier] suffixes), see Glück and Pfau 1999; Pfau and Glück 1999.


275

What distinguishes DGS from all the languages discussed so far is the position of NegP vis-à-vis TnsP within the syntactic structure. In contrast to French, Háusá, and Gã, Neg selects TnsP as its complement in DGS. According to Zanuttini (1991), a NegP can be realized in exactly those two structurally distinct positions, namely above TnsP – as in DGS and, according to Zanuttini (1991), in Italian – and below TnsP – as exemplified by the other languages discussed above. 11.3.5

Motivating split negation in DGS: A comparison with ASL

In general, both positions within NegP are assumed to be filled in a given language when we observe two independent Neg elements in a sentence (as, for example, in French and Háusá). In languages in which a negation element surfaces as a constituent of the verbal complex (or a functional complex, as in Háusá), this element is clearly a head. That is, the verb raises to the negative head in the course of the derivation and the Neg element attaches to the verb stem. In this case, the specifier position may either be filled by lexical material (Háusá) or by an empty operator (as in Turkish where negation is expressed by a verbal suffix only). The Gã past tense example (8b) shows that negation may be realized by a stem internal modification only. Following DM assumptions, this implies that in the Gã past tense the specifier position of NegP is occupied by an empty operator, while the head hosts an empty affix that attaches to the verb and triggers a phonological readjustment rule. As illustrated above, in DGS negation is expressed by two elements, namely the lexical Neg sign NICHT and a headshake. Since the headshake is associated with the verb (as part of the verbal complex), I assume that it is triggered by an empty affix in Neg in the same way as the stem-internal modification in Gã. That is, I take the headshake to be introduced by a phonological readjustment rule. However, it has been claimed for ASL that the presence of a manual Neg sign and a headshake does not necessarily imply that both positions within NegP are filled. Neidle et al. (1998; 2000), for instance, propose a syntactic structure for ASL in which both elements are taken to occupy the head position of the NegP. Below, I briefly compare ASL negation to the DGS facts. The available ASL data suggest that sentential negation has different properties in ASL, a fact which I take to be due to the different syntactic structure as well as to the distinct status of its manual Neg element. Therefore, the comparison of data corroborates the analysis given above for DGS. In contrast to DGS, the basic word order in ASL is SVO (subject–verb– object) (16a). When present, the manual Neg sign NOT usually precedes the

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verb in ASL, as is illustrated by the example in (16b).9 As in DGS, the manual Neg element may be dropped as is shown by example (16c). (16)

Negation in ASL (Neidle et al. 2000:44f) hs a. JOHN BUY HOUSE b. JOHN NOT BUY HOUSE ‘John is buying a house.’ ‘John is not buying a house.’ hs c. JOHN BUY HOUSE ‘John is not buying a house.’

The syntactic structure for ASL as proposed by Neidle et al. (1998; 2000) is given in (17). Neidle et al. claim that there are two elements in the head position of the NegP: the manual sign NOT as well as a syntactic Neg feature which is realized by the headshake. In ASL it is also possible for the manual sign to be dropped. However, there is then no manual material under Neg left for the headshake to associate with and, for that reason, it is forced to spread over the entire c-command domain of the Neg node, as in (16c). (17)

A syntactic structure for ASL TnsP subject

Tns'

Tns

NegP

Spec

Neg'

Neg  NOT and [+neg]

VP V

object

The differences between ASL and DGS are as follows. First of all, the specifier of NegP is not filled by a lexical Neg element in ASL and, therefore, ASL does not exhibit split negation. Moreover, since the manual element NOT in the head of NegP is not affixal in nature, movement of the verb to Neg is blocked (that is, the negation element does not surface as a constituent of the verbal complex). 9

Neidle et al. (2000) point out that in case the negative marking does not spread, the sentence receives an emphatic interpretation.


277

These different properties allow for two interesting predictions. First, since the ASL verb does not raise to Neg, we predict that it is possible for the verb to be realized without an accompanying headshake when the manual Neg element is present. This prediction is borne out, as is illustrated by the grammaticality of example (16b). In contrast to that, headshake on the manual element alone gives rise to ungrammaticality in DGS due to the fact that verb movement to Neg is forced by the Stray Affix Filter (18a). That is, in DGS the empty Neg affix is always attached to the verb and triggers the phonological readjustment rule (15). Second, for the same reason, the headshake in DGS has an element to be associated with (i.e. the verb) even when the manual sign is dropped. This is not, however, true for ASL where verb movement does not apply. When NOT is dropped, it is impossible for the headshake to spread only over the verb. Rather, spreading has to target the entire c-command domain of Neg, that is, the entire VP. Consequently, the ASL example (18b) is ungrammatical, in contrast to the DGS example (18c).10 (18)

Some contrasts between DGS and ASL a. *MUTTER BLUME KAUF mother flower buy ‘Mother does not buy a flower.’ hs b. *JOHN BUY HOUSE ‘John is not buying a house.’ hs c. MUTTER BLUME KAUF mother flower buy.neg ‘Mother does not buy a flower.’

hs NICHT not

To sum up, the observed grammaticality differences between DGS and ASL receive a straightforward explanation if we assume that the two languages have different syntactic structures with different elements occupying the head position of the NegP. In ASL NegP appears below TnsP with its specifier on the left. In contrast to DGS, the manual Neg element in ASL occupies the head of NegP while the specifier position is always empty. This distribution implies 10

In her very interesting study, Wood (1999) shows that in ASL, VP movement may occur in which the entire VP moves to SpecNegP leaving NOT behind in sentence-final position. Consequently, the serialization MARY NOT BREAK FAN (without VP shift) is as grammatical as the sequence MARY BREAK FAN NOT (in which VP shift to SpecNegP has applied). As expected, VP shift to SpecNegP is impossible in DGS since this position is taken by the manual sign NICHT (hence the ungrammaticality of *MUTTER NICHT BLUME KAUF ‘mother not flower buy’ which should be a possible serialization if NICHT occupied the head of NegP as in ASL).

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that from a typological point of view DGS and ASL are different in that ASL does not show split negation. Furthermore, the nonmanual marking in ASL is not introduced by a phonological readjustment rule (in contrast to DGS where this rule is triggered by an empty affix), since in ASL the verb does not raise to Neg. Rather, the nonmanual marking is associated with the manual sign in the negative head and it is forced to spread whenever there is no lexical carrier. This spreading process is determined by syntactic facts, that is, it may not simply pick the neighboring sign but rather has to spread over all hierarchically lower elements (over its c-command domain). For further comparison of DGS and ASL negation, see Pfau and Glück 2000.11 11.4

More languages, more readjustments

In this section I present further negation data from various languages, all of which involve some sort of morphosyntactic or phonological readjustment. The descriptions to follow are more roughly sketched, and I do not try to give syntactic tree structures for any of these languages. The readjustment rules I discuss below affect agreement features (Estonian), case features (Russian), aspect features (Maung), phonological features (Nanai, Shónà, Swahili, Venda), and tonal features (Venda, Kinyarwanda, Twi). The overall picture that emerges is that the principles of Distributed Morphology allow for the very diverse negation patterns to be accounted for in a straightforward way. Let us first consider Estonian, a Finno-Ugric language spoken by about one million people in the Republic of Estonia. In Estonian the Neg particle ei precedes the verb. Moreover, an optional postverbal particle mitte may be used for reinforcement. The examples in (19) illustrate that with negation subject agreement is lost in the present (19b) and in the past tense (19d,f). In the latter case, the verb is inflected for tense only (note that the Vocabulary item for [+past] is different with negation). 11

Unfortunately, the examples given for other sign languages (see references in footnote 6) do not allow for safe conclusions about their typological classification. From a few examples cited in Zeshan (1997:94), we may – albeit very tentatively – infer that Pakistani Sign Language patterns with DGS in that the manual Neg sign follows the verb (i) and the headshake may be associated with the verb sign only in case the Neg sign is dropped (ii). hs i. DEAF VAH SAMAJH NAHI:N’ deaf index understand neg ‘The deaf do not understand.’ hs ii. PA:KISTA:N INTIZ”A:M SAMAJH Pakistan organize understand ‘The Pakistani do not know anything about organization.’


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(Split) negation in Estonian (Tuldava 1994) a. Mina tule-n praegu. I come-1.sg now ‘I’m coming now.’

b. Mina ei tule (mitte) praegu. I neg come (neg) now ‘I’m not coming now.’

c. Mina istu-si-n kodus. d. Mina ei istu-nud kodus. I sit-past-1.sg at.home I neg sit-past at.home ‘I sat at home.’ ‘I did not sit at home.’ e. Meie istu-si-me kodus. f. Meie ei istu-nud kodus. We sit-past-1.pl at.home We neg sit-past at.home ‘We sat at home.’ ‘We did not sit at home.’ I take the derivation in Estonian to parallel the one described for French above: in the syntax, the verb raises and adjoins to the negative head ei and the whole complex raises further to Tns. The optional Neg particle mitte stands in SpecNegP. Contrary to the French data, however, a readjustment rule is active at MS in Estonian in the context of negation. More precisely, we are dealing with a rule of impoverishment that deletes the AgrS feature whenever the sentence is negated (compare Halle 1997; Noyer 1998). The Vocabulary item for Estonian Neg is given in (20), and the relevant readjustment rule is given in (21). (20)

Vocabulary item for Neg in Estonian [neg]

(21)

↔

/ei-/

Readjustment rule triggered by Neg (Impoverishment) [AgrS]

↔ Ø / [neg]

Impoverishment is just one way of influencing the featural composition of a terminal node at MS. Another option for readjustment is to change a certain morphosyntactic feature in the environment of another such feature. This case is illustrated by Russian and Maung, which we consider next. In Russian, for instance, negation is expressed by the particle ne. Interestingly, the direct object of the verb which is accusative in the affirmative sentence shows up in the genitive case in the negative counterpart: (22)

Negation in Russian (Lyovin 1997) a. Ja viˇzu koˇsku. I see cat(acc) ‘I see [a] cat.’

b. Ja ne vizu koˇski. I neg see cat(gen) ‘I do not see [a] cat.’

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Obviously, the presence of Neg triggers a readjustment rule that is somewhat different from the ones discussed so far. In Russian the relevant rule affects a case feature and turns accusative into genitive case:12 (23)

Readjustment rule triggered by Neg (feature change) [acc] → [gen] / [neg]

A different feature is affected in Maung, an Australian language spoken on the Goulburn Islands near the north coast of Arnhem Land in the Northern Territory of Australia. Maung is a SVO language; a prefix indicates subject and object agreement while mostly suffixes indicate tense and aspect. In negated sentences the preverbal Neg element marig appears and the verb takes an irrealis suffix: the potential in present and future negatives – as in (24b) and the hypothetical in past negatives; as in (24d). (24)

Negation in Maung (Capell and Hinch 1970) a. ηabi ηi-udba-Ø. b. ηabi marig ηi-udba-ji. I 1.sg.s/3.sg.o-put-pres I neg 1.sg.s/3.sg.o-put-pot ‘I put(pres.) it.’ ‘I do not/will not put it.’ c. ηabi ηi-udba-η. d. ηabi marig ηi-udba-nji. I 1.sg.s/3.sg.o-put-past I neg 1.sg.s/3.sg.o-put-hyp ‘I put(past) it.’ ‘I did not put it.’

The examples in Capell and Hinch (1970:102) suggest that marig immediately precedes the verb. Since the authors name the [Neg+V] complex a “compound” (p. 80) we may assume that marig is the head of the NegP and that the derivation parallels the one given for Estonian above: (25)

Vocabulary item for Neg in Maung [neg]

↔

/marig-/

Before Vocabulary insertion takes place, a feature changing readjustment rule will apply at MS. This rule inserts an aspect feature according to the Tns specification of the affirmative sentence (note that moreover the Tns feature will be deleted): (26)

Readjustment rules triggered by Neg (feature insertion) a. [Asp] → [+pot] / [neg] [−past] b. [Asp] → [+hyp] / [neg] [+past]

12

A similar phenomenon is reported by Frajzyngier (1993) for certain constructions in Mupun, a Western Chadic language spoken by about 10,000 people in Central Nigeria.


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Finally, what we can safely infer from the data is that at MS, two agreement morphemes must be implemented, one for subject and one for object agreement. These morphemes will subsequently fuse and only one Vocabulary item that matches the feature description of the fused node will be inserted; for example, ηi- in (24). Another striking modification, this time one of phonological nature, is observed in the Tungusic language Nanai spoken in Eastern Siberia and a small area in Northeastern China. In Nanai, the final vowel of a verb stem is lengthened in order to express negation (and a distinct tense marker is used). Diachronically, this modification is due to the fusion of the verb with the formerly used separate negative auxiliary ∂ (which is still used, for example, in the related languages Orok and Evenki): (27)

Negation in Nanai (Payne 1985) a. Xola-xa-si. read-past-2.sg ‘You did read.’

b. Xolaa-ci-si. read(neg)-past-2.sg ‘You did not read.’

Consequently, the relevant readjustment rule has to target the quality of the stem-final vowel, as sketched in (28). (28)

Readjustment rule triggered by Neg (vowel lengthening) V]Verb

→

V]Verb

/

[neg]

[+long] A different alternation concerning the vowel quality is observed in the Bantu language Shónà. In Shónà (spoken in Zimbabwe and Zambia), negation is expressed morphologically by the low tone prefix hà-. At the same time, a change in the stem-final vowel -à is triggered which becomes -`ı (or -è in some Shónà dialects) in a negative context, as illustrated by (29). (29)

Negation in Shónà (Brauner 1995) a. Nd`ı-nó-èndà 1.sg-pres-go ‘I go to school.’

kù-ch`ıkórò. to-school

c. Hà-nd`ı-chá-ènd`ı kù-ch`ıkórò. neg-1.sg-fut-go to-school ‘I will not go to school.’

b. Hà-nd`ı-ènd`ı kù-ch`ıkórò. neg-1.sg-go to-school ‘I do not go to school.’

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The readjustment rule in (30) takes into account that in Shónà, the particular change of vowel is observed in the present and future tense only.13 (30)

Readjustment rule triggered by Neg (vowel change) V]Verb → [−back; +high] / [neg] [−past]

In Venda (a language spoken in the south African homeland of the same name), a similar process applies in the present (31a,b) and in the future tense, in the latter only when the Tns suffix is deleted (31c,d). Consequently, an alternative form of the negated future in (31d) would be a` -r´ı-ngá-dó-shúmà (no deletion of Tns, no vowel change; compare Poulos 1990:259). (31)

Negation in Venda (Poulos 1990) a. R`ı-(à)-shúmá. 1.pl-(tns)-work ‘We work.’

` ı-shúm`ı. b. A-r´ neg-1.pl-work ‘We do not work.’

c. R`ı-dò-shúmá. 1.pl-fut-work ‘We will work.’

` ı-ngá-shúm`ı. d. A-r´ neg-1.pl-neg-work ‘We will not work.’

What is particularly interesting with respect to the Venda data is the fact that together with the vowel change a tone change comes into play. For the high tone verb u` -shúmá ‘to work’, the final vowel is not only changed from a to i (as in Shónà) but also receives a low tone in the above examples. In this sense, readjustment in Venda can be seen as a combination of what happens in Shónà (30) with a tone changing rule (like the one in (33) below). Note that tone patterns of inflected verbs crucially depend on the basic tone pattern of the respective verb stem and that, moreover, tone changes differ from tense to tense (for details, see Poulos 1990:575ff ). Kinyarwanda is another language of the Bantu family spoken by about six million people in Rwanda and neighboring Za¨ıre. Negation in Kinyarwanda is comparable to what we have observed in Gã and Venda since a change of tone is involved. For every person except the 1st person singular, negation is expressed by the prefix nt(`ı)- (32b); for the 1st person singular the prefix is s`ı- (32d). The interaction of tense and aspect morphemes is quite intricate and shall not concern us here. Of importance, however, is the fact that with negation 13

Shónà has two past tenses – the recent and the general past – both of which are negated by means of the negated form of the auxiliary -né ‘to have’ plus infinitive. This auxiliary follows another readjustment rule, which I will not consider here.


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a lexical high tone on the verb is erased. Moreover, the tone on the aspect suffix is sometimes raised; compare (32b). (32)

Negation in Kinyarwanda (Overdulve 1975) ` a-kór-à a. A-r` cyàa` nè. 3.sg-tns-work-asp hard ‘He/she works hard.’

b. Nt-àa` -kòr-á cyàa` nè. neg-3.sg-work-asp hard ‘He/she does not work hard.’

c. N-à-kóz-è (=kór+yè) cyàa` nè. d. S`ı-n-à-kòz-è cyàa` nè. 1.sg-tns-work-asp hard neg-1.sg-tns-work-asp hard ‘I worked hard.’ ‘I did not work hard.’ The aspect suffix in (32c,d) is actually -yè. But the glide y combines with preceding consonants in a very complex way; for monosyllabic stems ending in r the rule is: r + y = z (Overdulve 1975:133). The phonological readjustment rule for high tone verbs is given in (33); what we observe is a case of high tone delinking: (33)

Readjustment rule triggered by Neg (tone change) [. . .V. . .]Verb

/

[neg]

= [H] In Twi (Akan), another language spoken in Ghana, change of tone is observed at least in the negative forms of the present and of the past tense. Negation is expressed by a low tone nasal prefix (which is homorganic with the following consonant) plus a high tone on the last syllable of the verb stem. An illustrative past tense sentence pair is given in (34). (34)

Negation in Twi (Redden and Owusu 1963) a. Yε-tè Tw´ı `ı. 1.pl-speak Twi ‘We speak Twi.’

b. Yε-n-té Tw´ı `ı. 1.pl-neg-speak Twi ‘We do not speak Twi.’

What I take to be particularly remarkable with respect to the above examples on the one hand is the fact that phonological readjustment may be triggered by an empty Neg affix (as exemplified by Gã and Nanai). On the other hand, we have seen that readjustment may not only manipulate morphosyntactic and phonological features but also tonal (prosodic) features - as exemplified by

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Table 11.1 Negation: A comparative chart Language Spoken example number in

Split Morphological Vocabulary negation? negation? item

Readjustment at MS (rule number)

French (1)

France

yes

yes

ne-

–

Háusá (4;7)

N Nigeria

yes

yes

ba-

–

Gã (8)

Ghana

no

yes

-Ø (past) -kò (perf.)

tone change (11)

DGS (12;18)

Germany

yes

yes

-Ø

ASL (16;18)

USA

no

no

change of nonmanuals (15) NOT & [+neg] –

Estonian (19)

Estonia

yes

yes

ei-

impoverishment (AgrS) (21)

Russian (22)

Russia

no

no

(ne)

feature change (case) (23)

Maung (24)

N Australia

no

yes (?)

marig-

feature change (aspect) (26)

Nanai (27)

E Siberia no NE China

yes

-Ø

vowel lengthening (28)

Shónà (29)

Zimbabwe/ Zambia

no

yes

hà-

vowel change (30)

Venda (31)

Venda no (S Africa)

yes

a` -

vowel and tone change

Kinyarwanda (32)

Rwanda/ Za¨ıre

no

yes

nt`ıs`ı- (1.Sg)

tone change (33)

Twi (Akan) (34)

Ghana

no

yes

n-/m-

tone change (≈ as in (11b))

Gã, Venda, and Twi - which are taken to be autosegmental in nature (Goldsmith 1979; 1990).14 Table 11.1 sums up and compares the languages discussed above. It shows by what means negation is expressed, that is, if a certain language involves split and/or morphological negation. Moreover, the Vocabulary item for Neg (for the negative head) is given and it is indicated what kind of readjustment rule (if any) applies at the grammatical level of MS. After having presented further data that make clear in which manner readjustment rules are sometimes 14

Becker-Donner (1965) presents remarkable data from Mano, a Western Sudanic language spoken in Liberia. In Mano, one way of expressing negation is by a tone change alone. This tone change, however, appears on the pronoun and not on the verb: Ko y´ıdò ‘We know.’, Kô y´ıdò ‘We do not know.’ Since it is not clear from her data if the pronoun could possibly be analyzed as an agreement prefix, I do not discuss this example further. In any case, it is different from all the examples discussed above because negation does neither introduce a separate morpheme nor affect the verb stem at all.


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correlated with the presence of a Neg feature in spoken as well as in a signed language, I once again focus on DGS (in Section 11.5) in order to investigate the precise nature of the phonological change that was shown to accompany negation in this language. 11.5

Discussion: What about modality effects?

In the previous section, I sketched the derivation of negated sentences for some spoken languages as well as for DGS and ASL. As it turns out, negation offers a good source of data for illustrating the basic concepts of Distributed Morphology; these concepts are: movement operations, late insertion of Vocabulary items and application of various readjustment rules at the grammatical levels of Morphological Structure and Phonological Form. I have illustrated how this theoretical framework allows for the derivation of negated structures in a signed language in exactly the same way as it allows for the derivation of such structures in spoken languages. Thus, as far as the morphosyntactic side is concerned, we do not need to refer to any modalityspecific principles. This is definitely a welcome result, since it allows for a uniform description of the phenomenon (note that it is also the expected result if we take the idea of Universal Grammar seriously). It is, however, important to also investigate if things are possibly somewhat different when we enter the realm of phonological rules and principles. We have seen that amongst other things readjustment rules are capable of changing the phonological form of a verb stem (tone change, feature change). For DGS, I claim that a phonological readjustment rule may affect the nonmanual component of a sign by adding a headshake. Of course, this is not at all surprising since it has long been realized that nonmanual features like facial expressions and face and body positions have to be included in the phonological description of a sign. As a matter of fact, the linguistic nonmanual marking in signed languages may serve three different functions (Wilbur and Patschke 1998): r a lexical function where the nonmanual does not bear any independent meaning but rather is part of the lexical entry of a sign; lexically specified nonmanual features have the same ability to carry lexical contrast as, for example, features of handshape, place, and movement; r a morphological function in which the nonmanual functions as an independent, simultaneously realized morpheme which may, for example, have adjectival or adverbial meaning; r a morphosyntactic function where the nonmanual marking is triggered by a syntactic feature (e.g. [+wh], [+neg]) and is capable of spreading over a sequence of words. Brentari (1998) takes this into account by including nonmanuals in a feature hierarchy for signed languages. The feature tree she proposes is given in (35).

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A feature hierarchy for signed languages (Brentari 1998:26, 130) root

inherent features articulator nonmanual

prosodic features

place of articulation

nonmanual setting

manual

path H2

H1

orientation aperture

In Brentari’s Prosodic Model, a fundamental distinction is made between inherent features and prosodic features, both of which are needed to achieve all lexical contrasts. Since both branches contain a nonmanual node, a few words need to be said about the status of the negative headshake. In Brentari’s definition of inherent and prosodic features both are said to be “properties of signs in the core lexicon” (1998:22). This, however, is not true for the kind of nonmanual modification I have discussed above: the negative headshake on the verb sign is not part of the sign’s lexical entry.15 Rather, it is added to the feature description of the sign by means of a morphosyntactic operation. Still, the presence of this feature in the surface form of the verb sign needs to be accounted for in the featural description of the sign (the same is true for other morphosyntactic and morphological features; e.g. movement features in aspectual modulation or handshape features in classification). As far as the negative headshake on the verb is concerned, I assume that in DGS it is part of the prosodic branch of the feature hierarchy for the following reasons: r The negative headshake is a dynamic property of the signal. r The negative headshake has autosegmental status; that is, it behaves in a way similar to tonal prosodies in tone languages. r The negative headshake appears to be synchronized with movement features of the manual component of the sign.16 r The negative headshake is capable of spreading. 15

16

The negative headshake on the Neg sign NICHT is, however, part of the lexical entry of this sign. For this reason, the nonmanual marking on NICHT was represented by a separate line in (13b) above, implying that the negative headshake on NICHT is not due to a spreading process. In the actual utterance, however, the headshake is realized continuously. Brentari (1998:173) notes that outputs of forms containing both manual and nonmanual prosodic features are cotemporal. She mentions the sign FINALLY, which has the accompanying


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The fourth criterion deserves some comments. In the DGS examples (12b) and (18c) above, the negative headshake was indicated as being associated with the verb sign only. It is, however, possible for the headshake to spread onto neighboring constituents, for example onto the direct object BLUME ‘flower,’ as indicated in (36a). It is not possible for the headshake to spread onto parts of phrases as is illustrated by the ungrammaticality of example (36b) in which the headshake is associated with the adjective ROT ‘red’ only. (36)

Spreading of headshake in DGS hs hs a. MANN BLUME KAUF b. ∗ MANN BLUME ROT KAUF man flower buy.neg man flower red buy.neg ‘The man is not buying a ‘The man is not buying a red flower.’ flower.’

Following the analysis sketched above, the headshake on the direct object in (33a) has its origin in phonological readjustment of the verb stem, that is, a prosodic feature of the verb has spread onto a neighboring constituent.17 Since I claim in the second criterion above that the negative headshake behaves in a way similar to tonal prosodies in tone languages, we now need to consider if similar phenomena are in fact attested in spoken languages. The question is: Are tones in spoken languages capable of spreading across word boundaries? And if so, is the spreading process comparable to the one observed for nonmanuals in DGS?

17

nonmanual component ‘pa,’ an opening of the mouth which is synchronized with the beginning and end of the movement of the manual component. Moreover, nonmanual behavior may imitate the movement expressed in the manual component (e.g. in the sign JAW-DROP in which the downward movement of the dominant hand is copied by an opening of the mouth). Similarly, for a DGS sign like VERSTEH ‘understand’ which is signed with a V-hand performing a back and forth movement on the side of the forehead, the side-to-side movement of the negative headshake is synchronized with the movement of the manual component to indicate negation of that verb. If spreading of the nonmanual marking was in fact syntactically determined in DGS (as was claimed to be true for ASL in Section 11.3.5), then it should not be optional. Recall that in ASL, spreading of the nonmanual marking over the entire c-command domain of Neg is obligatory whenever the manual Neg element is dropped. Note that there is no difference in interpretation between the DGS sentence with headshake over the verb sign only (18c) and the sentence with headshake over the verb sign and the object DP (36a). Most importantly, the former variant does not imply constituent negation (as in ‘John did not buy flowers, he stole them’). Also note that my above analysis of DGS negation is not to imply that all syntactic phenomena in DGS that are associated with nonmanual markings (e.g. wh-questions, topicalizations) result from the application of phonological readjustment rules (that are triggered by empty affixes). Rather, I assume that these phenomena are much more similar to the corresponding ASL constructions in that the spreading of the respective nonmanual marking is syntactically determined.

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The answer to the first question is definitely positive. In the literature, the relevant phenomenon is usually referred to as external tone sandhi.18 Below, I present representative examples from the three Bantu languages Kinande, Setswana, and Tsonga.19 In Kinande (spoken in Eastern Za¨ıre), the output of lexical tonology provides tone bearing units that have high or low tone or are toneless. In (37), e- is the initial vowel (IV) morpheme and ki- is a class 7 noun prefix. In a neutral environment, that is, one where no postlexical tone rules apply, the two sample nouns e-ki-tabu ‘book’ and e-ki-tsungu ‘potato’ surface as e` -k`ı-tábù and e` -k`ıtsùngù, respectively. However, in combination with the adjective k´ı-nénè ‘big,’ whose prefix bears a high tone, a change is observed: the high tone of the adjective prefix spreads leftwards onto the last syllable of the noun. It does not spread any further as is illustrated by example (37b) (in the following examples the site(s) of the tone change are underlined). (37)

Regressive high tone spreading in Kinande (Hyman 1990:113) a. e` -k`ı-tábù iv-7-book

→

e` -k`ı-tábú iv-7-book ‘big book’

k´ı-nénè pre-big

b. e` -k`ı-tsùngù iv-7-potato

→

e` -k`ı-tsùngú iv-7-potato ‘big potato’

k´ı-nénè pre-big

Other remarkable tone sandhi phenomena are described by Creissels (1998) for Setswana (spoken in South Africa and Botswana). By themselves, the Setswana words bàthò ‘persons’ and bàηw`ı ‘certain, some’ have no high tone, and no high tone appears when they combine in a phrase; compare (38a). In (38b), however, the high tone of the morpheme l´ı- ‘with (comitative)’ that is prefixed to the noun spreads rightwards onto three successive syllables.20 18

19 20

Internal tone sandhi refers to tone spreading within the word boundary, as exemplified by the complex Shónà verb kù-téng-és-ér-á ‘inf-buy-caus-to-vs’ (‘to sell to’) where the root /teng/ is assigned a single high tone on the tonal tier that spreads rightwards onto the underlyingly toneless extensional and final-vowel (VS) suffixes (see Kenstowicz 1994:332, whose discussion builds on results by Myers 1987). I am very grateful to Scott Myers who brought this phenomenon to my attention and was so kind to supply some relevant references. As a matter of fact, the high tone spreads first to two successive toneless syllables inside the noun. Since by that the final syllable receives high tone, the conditions for the application of a spreading rule operating at word boundaries are created and the high tone may thus spread further, from the final syllable of the noun to the first syllable of the following word. Compare the phrase l´ı-bál´ım`ı bàηw`ı ‘with-farmers certain’ in which the noun bàl`ım`ı has three low tone syllables; therefore, spreading of the high tone from the prefix does not affect the final syllable and cannot proceed further across the word boundary (Creissels 1998:151). Consequently, what we observe in (38b) is a combination of internal and external tone sandhi.


(38)

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Progressive high tone spreading in Setswana (Creissels 1998:150) a. bàthò bàηw`ı persons certain ‘certain persons’

báηw`ı b. l´ı-báthó with-persons certain ‘with certain persons’

The last example I cite comes from Tsonga (spoken in Mozambique and South Africa). Baumbach (1987) observes various instances in which a high tone preceding a word with only low tones spreads onto all syllables of this word except for the last one (his Tonological Rule 1). One particularly interesting case is that of an object with low tones only following a high tone verb. In (39a,b), the first two syllables of the objects x`ıkòxà ‘old woman’ and nhwànyànà ‘girl’ receive high tone due to progressive high tone spreading.21 (39)

Progressive high tone spreading in Tsonga (Baumbach 1987:48) a. x`ıkòxà old.woman

→

Vá pfúná x´ıkóxà. they help old.woman ‘They help the old woman.’

b. nhwànyànà girl

→

´ U rhándzá nhwányánà. he likes girl ‘He likes the girl.’

The above examples make clear that spreading of prosodic material across word boundaries is in fact attested in spoken languages as well as sign languages. For instance, a high tone may spread leftwards onto the last syllable of a noun (as in Kinande), rightwards from a high tone prefix throughout a noun and possibly onto the first syllable of the following word (as in Setswana) or rightwards from a verb onto the first two syllables of a neighboring noun (as exemplified by Tsonga). However, we still have to consider the second question posed above, namely if the Bantu spreading processes are in fact similar to the one observed for nonmanuals in DGS. A comparison of the DGS example in (36a) with the spoken language examples in (37) to (39) suggests that the processes involved are somewhat different. Remember that tone spreading in Bantu may proceed throughout a word and may possibly affect one or two syllables of a neighboring constituent. In contrast to this, regressive spreading of the nonmanual feature [headshake] in DGS always affects the whole preceding word, for example the direct object BLUME ‘flower’ in (36a). 21

It should be noted, however, that in Tsonga (as in many other Bantu languages) a number of consonants (depressor consonants) prevent the process of progressive tonal spreading to go beyond them (Baumbach 1987:53ff; for depressor consonants in Ikalanga [Botswana], also see Hyman and Mathangwane 1998).

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Note that the notion of syllable in signed languages is a matter of debate. Some authors (e.g. Coulter 1982; Wilbur 1990; Perlmutter 1992) have claimed that for the most part, signs consist of one syllable only (for BLUME – according to Perlmutter’s analysis – a hold – movement – hold sequence with handshape change on the dominant hand).22 Following this line of reasoning, we might argue that the nonmanual spreading in (36a) does not affect the preceding word but rather targets exactly one syllable to the left of the verb sign. Such an analysis does not, however, stand up to closer examination. It turns out that when the direct object is made more complex – for example, by addition of an adjective such as ROT ‘red’ (as in (36b)) or by addition of a PP or a relative clause – the nonmanual must spread regressively over all these elements. Obviously, spreading in DGS may target more than one neighboring word (that is, more than one neighboring syllable).23 Still, this apparent difference to spoken languages should be treated with some caution, since, at this point, I am not in a position of saying with certainty to what extent tone spreading in spoken languages is actually constrained. Consider, for instance, the following sentence from Kipare, a Bantu language of Tanzania: (40)

An instance of across-the-board lowering in Kipare (Odden 1995: 462f) /vá!ná vékéjílá nkhúkú ndórí nkhúndú jángú/ H L →

H

vánà vèkìjìlà nkhùkù ndòrì nkhùndù jàngù children while.3.PL.eat chickens little red my ‘while the children eat those little red chickens of mine’

Underlyingly, each word/morpheme in the Kipare sequence in (40) contributes a high tone. Odden (1995) assumes that due to a tone-fusing version of the Obligatory Contour Principle (OCP),24 adjacent high tones are combined into one multiply-linked high tone (H) at the phrasal level. He further assumes that there is a floating low tone (L) following the first tone bearing unit of vana that 22

23

24

Coulter (1982) points out that compounds, reduplicated signs, and loan signs from fingerspelling are an exception. In addition to that, Perlmutter (1992) presents evidence for a few bisyllabic lexemes in ASL (e.g. signs with two distinct movement segments). Obviously, optional spreading of the headshake in DGS is not syntactically determined (as in ASL), but still it is syntactically constrained. That is, if spreading applies, it must apply over entire phrases; hence the ungrammaticality of (36b). With respect to tones, the OCP is formulated by Goldsmith (1979) as follows: “At the melodic level of the grammar, any two adjacent tonemes must be distinct.” In its most general form, the principle is stated by McCarthy (1988): “Adjacent identical elements are prohibited.” According to this general statement, the OCP applies to any two identical features or nodes which are adjacent on a given tier.


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turns a prepausal sequence of high tones into low ones. Thus, across-the-board lowering of high tones is explained by postulating that there is only a single high tone in such cases. However, a similar explanation is not available for the potential across-theboard spreading of nonmanuals in DGS. In contrast to Kipare where the whole sequence is assumed to be linked to a single prosodic feature (H), no such feature is present in the DGS examples; that is, the possibly complex object DP is not linked to a single nonmanual feature of any kind. Consequently, if at all, we may speculate that in the context of spreading properties, we are actually encountering a modality effect. A possible reason for this modality effect might be that in spoken languages every tone bearing unit must bear a tone and every tone must be associated with a tone bearing unit; consequently, no vowel can be articulated without a certain tone value. Due to this restriction, spreading of tone requires repeated delinking or change of a tone feature. Across-the-board spreading (as in Kipare) is possible only when the whole sequence is multiply-linked to a single H. But this observation does not hold for the sign language data under consideration since skeletal positions in DGS are not necessarily inherently associated with a prosodic (nonmanual) feature, say, a headshake. For this reason, the spreading of the nonmanual in DGS does not imply delinking or feature change; rather, a feature is added to the featural description of a sign. For the same reason, assuming a single multiply-linked prosodic feature is not a possible explanation for the DGS facts.25 11.6

Conclusion

The general picture that emerges from the above discussion of spoken language and signed language negation is that the processes involved in the derivation of negated sentences are in fact very similar. Not surprisingly, the languagespecific syntactic structures are subject to parametric variation as far as, for example, the selectional properties of functional heads and the position of specifiers are concerned (however, for a different view, see Kayne 1994; Chomsky 1995). Still, the relevant syntactic (head movement, adjunction) and morphosyntactic (merger, fusion) operations are exactly the same. Moreover, in both modalities readjustment rules may apply at the postsyntactic levels of Morphological 25

Note that other nonmanual features, such as raised eyebrows or head tilt, do not interfere with the negative headshake since nonmanuals may be layered in signed languages (Wilbur 2000). A hypothetical test case for a blocking effect would be one in which a nonmanual on the same layer interferes with the spreading process, for example, an element within the object DP which is associated with a headnod. In such a case, it would be interesting to examine if the headnod is delinked and spreading of the headshake proceeds in the familiar way, or if the headnod rather blocks further spreading of the headshake. I did not, however, succeed in constructing such an example (possibly due to semantic awkwardness).

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Structure and Phonological Form for instance, a zero affix may trigger a steminternal phonological change (as was exemplified with the help of negation data from Gã, DGS, and Nanai). In DGS the feature that is introduced by phonological readjustment is the nonmanual feature [headshake]. Referring to the phonological feature hierarchy proposed by Brentari (1998), I claimed that feature to be a prosodic one. Interestingly, the headshake, which is initially associated only with the verb sign, is capable of spreading over neighboring constituents. However, similar spreading of prosodic material (external tone sandhi) has been shown to apply in some spoken languages. Are there therefore no modality effects at all? In Section 11.5 I tentatively claim that one such effect might be due to the different nature of the prosodic material involved. While tone bearing units in spoken languages must be associated with some tone value, it is not the case that similar units in signed languages must always be associated with some value for a given nonmanual feature; for example, headshake/headnod. Consequently, spreading of the nonmanual is not blocked by interfering prosodic material (on the same layer) and may, therefore, proceed over a sequence of words. Once again, it is necessary to emphasize that further research is necessary in order to evaluate the validity of this claim. Acknowledgments I am particularly indebted to my colleague Susanne Glück for fruitful mutual work and many stimulating discussions. I am also very grateful to Daniela Happ and Elke Menges for their invaluable help with the DGS data. Moreover, I wish to thank Rajesh Bhatt, Katharina Hartmann, Meltem Kelepir, Gaurav Mathur, Scott Myers, Carol Neidle, Christian Rathmann, and Sandra Wood, as well as an anonymous reviewer, for their comments on an earlier version of this chapter. 11.7

References

Ablorh-Odjidja, J. R. 1968. Ga for beginners. Accra: Waterville Publishing. Baumbach, E. J. M. 1987. Analytical Tsonga grammar. Pretoria: University of South Africa. ¨ Becker-Donner, Etta. 1965. Die Sprache der Mano (Osterreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Sitzungsbericht 245 (5)). Wien: Böhlaus. Bergman, Brita. 1995. Manual and nonmanual expression of negation in Swedish Sign Language. In Sign language research 1994: Proceedings of the Fourth European Congress on Sign Language Research, ed. Heleen Bos and Trude Schermer, 85– 103. Hamburg: Signum. Boyes Braem, Penny. 1995. Einführung in die Gebärdensprache und ihre Erforschung. Hamburg: Signum.


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Brauner, Siegmund. 1995. A grammatical sketch of Shona. Köln: Köppe. Brentari, Diane. 1998. A prosodic model of sign language phonology. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Capell, A. and H. E. Hinch. 1970. Maung grammar, texts and vocabulary. The Hague: Mouton. Caron, B. 1990. La négation en Haoussa. Linguistique Africaine 4:32–46. Chomsky, Noam. 1995. The minimalist program. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Coerts, Jane. 1990. The analysis of interrogatives and negations in Sign Language of the Netherlands. In Current trends in European Sign Language research: Proceedings of the 3r d European Congress on Sign Language Research, ed. Siegmund Prillwitz and Tomas Vollhaber, 265–277. Hamburg: Signum. Coulter, Geoffrey R. 1982. On the nature of ASL as a monosyllabic language. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Linguistic Society of America, San Diego, CA. Creissels, D. 1998. Expansion and retraction of high tone domains in Setswana. In Theoretical aspects of Bantu tone, ed. Larry M. Hyman and Charles W. Kisseberth, 133–194. Stanford: CSLI. ¨ Dahl, Osten. 1979. Typology of sentence negation. Linguistics 17:79–106. ¨ Dahl, Osten. 1993. Negation. In Syntax: An international handbook of contemporary research, ed. Joachim Jacobs, Arnim von Stechow, Wolfgang Sternefeld and Theo Vennemann, 914–923. Berlin: de Gruyter. Deuchar, M. 1984. British Sign Language. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Frajzyngier, Zygmunt. 1993. A grammar of Mupun. Berlin: Reimer. Glück, Susanne and Roland Pfau. 1999. A Distributed Morphology account of verbal inflection in German Sign Language. In Proceedings of ConSOLE 7, ed. Tina Cambier-Langeveld, Anikó Lipták, Michael Redford and Eric Jan van der Torre, 65–80. Leiden: SOLE. Goldsmith, John. 1979. Autosegmental phonology. New York: Garland. Goldsmith, John. 1990. Autosegmental and metrical phonology. Oxford: Blackwell. Haegeman, Liliane. 1995. The syntax of negation. Oxford: Cambridge University Press. Haegeman, Liliane and Raffaella Zanuttini. 1991. Negative heads and the Neg-criterion. The Linguistic Review 8:233–251. Halle, Morris. 1990. An approach to morphology. In Proceedings of NELS 20, 150–185. GLSA, University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Halle, Morris. 1994. The Russian declension. An illustration of the theory of Distributed Morphology. In Perspectives in phonology, ed. Jennifer Cole and Charles W. Kisseberth, 29–60. Stanford: CSLI. Halle, Morris. 1997. Distributed Morphology: Impoverishment and fission. In MIT Working Papers in Linguistics 30, 425–449. Department of Linguistics and Philosophy, MIT, Cambridge, MA. Halle, Morris and Alec Marantz. 1993. Distributed Morphology and the pieces of inflection. In The view from building 20. Essays in linguistics in honor of Sylvain Bromberger, ed. Ken Hale and Samuel J. Keyser, 111–176. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Halle, Morris and Alec Marantz. 1994. Some key features of Distributed Morphology. In MIT Working Papers in Linguistics 21, 275–288. Department of Linguistics and Philosophy, MIT, Cambridge, MA.

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Harley, Heidi and Rolf Noyer. 1999. Distributed Morphology. Glot International 4:3–9. Hartmann, Katharina. 1999. Doppelte Negation im Háusá. Paper presented at Generative Grammatik des Südens (GGS 1999). Universität Stuttgart, May 1999. Hyman, Larry M. 1990. Boundary tonology and the prosodic hierarchy. In The phonology-syntax connection, ed. Sharon Inkelas and Draga Zec, 109–125. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Hyman, Larry M. and J.T. Mathangwane. 1998. Tonal domains and depressor consonants in Ikalanga. In Theoretical aspects of Bantu tone, ed. Larry M. Hyman and Charles W. Kisseberth, 195–229. Stanford : CSLI. Kayne, Richard. 1994. The antisymmetry of syntax. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Kenstowicz, Michael. 1994. Phonology in generative grammar. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell. Liddell, Scott. 1980. American Sign Language syntax. The Hague: Mouton. Lyovin, Anatole V. 1997. An introduction to the languages of the world. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McCarthy, John. 1988. Feature geometry and dependency: A review. Phonetica 43: 84–108. Myers, Scott. 1987. Tone and the structure of words in Shona. Doctoral dissertation, University of Massachusetts, Amherst, MA. (Published by Garland Press, New York. 1990.) Neidle, Carol, Benjamin Bahan, Dawn MacLaughlin, Robert G. Lee, and Judy Kegl. 1998. Realizations of syntactic agreement in American Sign Language: Similarities between the clause and the noun phrase. Studia Linguistica 52:191–226. Neidle, Carol, Judy Kegl, Dawn MacLaughlin, Benjamin Bahan, and Robert G. Lee. 2000. The syntax of American Sign Language: Functional categories and hierarchical structure. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Noyer, Rolf. 1998. Impoverishment theory and morphosyntactic markedness. In Morphology and its relation to phonology and syntax, ed. S. G. Lapointe, D.K. Brentari and P. M. Farrell, 264–285. Stanford: CSLI. Odden, David. 1995. Tone: African languages. In The handbook of phonological theory, ed. John A. Goldsmith, 444–475. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell. Ouhalla, Jamal. 1990. Negation, relativized minimality and the aspectual status of auxiliaries. The Linguistic Review 7:183–231. Overdulve, C. M. 1975. Apprendre la langue rwanda. The Hague: Mouton. Payne, John R. 1985. Negation. In Language typology and syntactic description, Vol.1: Clause structure, ed. Timothy Shopen, 197–242. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Perlmutter, David M. 1992. Sonority and syllable structure in American Sign Language. Linguistic Inquiry 23:407–442. Pfau, Roland. 2001. Typologische und strukturelle Aspekte der Negation in Deutscher Gebärdensprache. In Gebärdensprachlinguistik 2000: Theorie und Anwendung, ed. Helen Leuninger and Karin Wempe, 13–31. Hamburg: Signum. Pfau, Roland and Susanne Glück. 1999. The pseudo-simultaneous nature of complex verb forms in German Sign Language. In Proceeding of the 28th Western Conference on Linguistics, ed. Nancy M. Antrim, Grant Goodall, Martha Schulte-Nafeh and Vida Samiian, 428–442. Fresno, CA: CSU. Pfau, Roland and Susanne Glück. 2000. Negative heads in German Sign Language and American Sign Language. Paper presented at 7th International Conference


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on Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Research (TISLR 2000). Universiteit van Amsterdam, July. Pilleux, Mauricio. 1991. Negation in Chilean Sign Language. Signpost Winter 1991: 25–28. Pollock, Jean-Yves. 1989. Verb movement, universal grammar, and the structure of IP. Linguistic Inquiry 20:365–424. Poulos, George. 1990. A linguistic analysis of Venda. Pretoria: Via Afrika Ltd. Rathmann, Christian. 2000. Does the presence of person agreement marker predict word order in signed languages? Paper presented at 7th International Conference on Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Research (TISLR 2000). Universiteit van Amsterdam, July. Rathmann, Christian. 2001. The optionality of Agreement Phrase: Evidence from signed languages. Paper presented at Conference of the Texas Linguistic Society (TLS 2001). University of Texas at Austin, March 2001. Redden, J. E. and N. Owusu. 1963. Twi: Basic course. Washington, DC: Foreign Service Institute. Rondal, J.-A., F. Henrot, and M. Charlier. 1997. Le langage des signes. Aspects psycholinguistiques et e´ ducatifs. Sprimont: Mardaga. Tuldava, J. 1994. Estonian textbook: Grammar, exercises, conversation. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Research Institute for Inner Asian Studies. Veinberg, Silvana C. 1993. Nonmanual negation and assertion in Argentine Sign Language. Sign Language Studies 79:95–112. Veinberg, Silvana C., and Ronnie B. Wilbur. 1990. A linguistic analysis of the negative headshake in American Sign Language. Sign Language Studies 68:217–244. Vogt-Svendsen, Marit. 2000. Negation in Norwegian Sign Language and in contrast to some features in German Sign Language. Poster presented at 7th International Conference on Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Research (TISLR 2000). Universiteit van Amsterdam, July. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 1990. Why syllables? What the notion means for ASL research. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan Fisher and Peter Siple, 81–108. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 2000. Phonological and prosodic layering of nonmanuals in American Sign Language. In The signs of language revisited: An anthology to honor Ursula Bellugi and Edward Klima, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 215–244. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Wilbur, Ronnie B. and Cynthia G. Patschke. 1998. Body leans and the marking of contrast in American Sign Language. Journal of Pragmatics 30:275–303. Wood, Sandra K. 1999. Semantic and syntactic aspects of negation in ASL. MA thesis, Purdue University, West Lafayette, IN. Zanuttini, Raffaella. 1991. Syntactic properties of sentential negation. A comparative study of Romance languages. Doctoral dissertation, University of Pennsylvania. Zeshan, Ulrike. 1997. “Sprache der Hände?”: Nichtmanuelle Phänomene und Nutzung des Raums in der Pakistanischen Gebärdensprache. Das Zeichen 39:90–105.

12

Nominal expressions in Hong Kong Sign Language: Does modality make a difference? Gladys Tang and Felix Y. B. Sze

12.1

Introduction

Signed language research in recent decades has revealed that signed and spoken languages share many properties of natural language, such as duality of patterning and linguistic arbitrariness. However, the fact that there are fundamental differences between the oral–aural and visual–gestural modes of communication leads to the question of the effect of modality on linguistic structure. Various researchers have argued that, despite some superficial differences, signed languages also display the property of formal structuring at various levels of grammar and a similar language acquisition timetable, suggesting that the principles and parameters of Universal Grammar (UG) apply across modalities (Brentari 1998; Crain and Lillo-Martin 1999; Lillo-Martin 1999). The fact that signed and spoken languages share the same kind of cognitive systems and reflect the same kind of mental operations was suggested by Fromkin (1973), who also argued that having these similarities does not mean that the differences resulting from their different modalities are uninteresting. Meier (this volume) compares the intrinsic characteristics of the two modalities and suggests some plausible linguistic outcomes. He also comments that the opportunity to study other signed languages in addition to American Sign Language (ASL) offers a more solid basis to examine this issue more systematically. This chapter suggests that a potential source of modality effect may lie in the use of space in the linguistic and discourse organization of nominal expressions in signed language. In fact, some researchers in this field have proposed that space plays a relatively more prominent role in signed language than in spoken language. As Padden (1990) claims, in spoken language space is only something to be referred to; it represents a domain in our mental representation in which different entities and their relations are depicted. On the other hand, space is physically accessible and used for linguistic representation in signed language. This includes not just the neutral signing space, but also space around or on the signer’s body.1 Poizner, Klima and Bellugi (1987) distinguish two different 1

The space for representing syntactic relations with loci was originally proposed by Klima and Bellugi (1979) as a horizontal plane in front of the signer at the trunk level. Kegl (1985) argued that loci in the signing space are not restricted to this horizontal plane.

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Nominal expressions in Hong Kong Sign Language

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uses of space in signed language: spatial mapping and spatialized syntax. Spatial mapping describes through signing the topographic or iconic layout of objects in the real world. At the same time, certain syntactic or semantic properties like verb agreement, pronominal, and anaphoric reference also use locations or loci in space for their linguistic representation. In fact, if objects and entities are being referred to through nominal expressions in natural language, the relationship between syntactic structure, space, and nominal reference in signed language requires a detailed examination. In a signing discourse, objects and entities are either physically present, or conceptually accessible through their associated loci in the signing space, or they are simply being referred to in the universe of discourse. A research question thus arises as to whether, or to what extent, the presence or absence of referents in the signing discourse influences the linguistic organization of nominal expressions in the language. In what follows, we first present a description of the internal structure of the nominal expressions of Hong Kong Sign Language (HKSL). Where appropriate, comparative data from ASL and spoken languages such as English and Cantonese are also adopted. We illustrate how Hong Kong deaf signers encode (in)definiteness through syntactic cues, such as the structure of nominal expressions, syntactic position, as well as nonmanual markings. Toward the end of the chapter, we provide an account of the distribution and interpretation of certain nominal expressions in the HKSL discourse, using Liddell’s (1994; 1995) concept of mental spaces. We suggest that the types of mental space invoked during signing serve as constraints for the distribution and interpretation of certain nominal expressions in the HKSL discourse. 12.2

Nominal expressions of HKSL

The possibility that the NP (noun phrase) structure in HKSL is similar to Cantonese can be readily refuted by the observation that NPs in HKSL that involve common nouns do not have a classifier phrase (CLP) projection (see Tang 1999).Cheng and Sybesma (1999) report that Cantonese is a numeral classifier language and the classifier phrase is projected between NumP and NP, yielding a surface order of [Det Num Cl N]. Following Allan’s (1977) typology, HKSL belongs to the category of classifier predicate languages. Similar to ASL, the classifiers of HKSL are verbal rather than nominal, and they enter into the predicate construction of the language. Nominal expressions of HKSL show a syntactic order of [Det Num N], and referential properties such as (in)definiteness, genericity as well as specificity – which are encoded in part by classifiers in Cantonese – are marked by a difference in syntactic structure or position (preverbal or postverbal) in HKSL. Moreover, while all modifiers precede the noun in Cantonese, the syntactic order of nominal expressions in

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Figure 12.1

INDEXdet i

HKSL appears to be quite variable because the data reveal that the pointing sign and the numeral sign may either precede or follow the noun. 12.3

Determiners

12.3.1

Definite determiners

Both definite and indefinite determiners are observed in HKSL. The pointing sign glossed as INDEXdet is associated with a definite referent.2 As illustrated in Figure 12.1, the index finger points outward, usually toward the location of the referent in the immediate physical environment or toward an abstract locus in space. Like its ASL counterpart, INDEXdet is found either prenominally or postnominally. However, a majority of our cases are prenominal. In ASL this sign in prenominal position is a definite determiner, equivalent to the English article ‘the’; it also encodes the spatial location of the referent (1a). If it occurs in postnominal position, this sign would be interpreted as an adverbial ‘here/there’ (MacLaughlin 1997). In HKSL, this sign in prenominal position is also interpreted as a definite determiner (2a; see Figure 12.2), equivalent to the demonstratives ‘nei go’ (this) or ‘go go’ (that) in Cantonese.3 Also, this sign does not yield an indefinite reading; (2b) is unacceptable unless it is interpreted as a demonstrative ‘this’ or ‘that.’ Although MacLaughlin (1997) suggests that the prenominal pointing sign is a determiner and the postnominal one is an adverbial, the HKSL data show that the postnominal pointing signs are ambiguous between a determiner and an adverbial (2c). If it is interpreted as an adverbial, 2

3

The view that a pointing sign in either prenominal or postnominal position is a definite determiner was put forward by Wilbur (1979). Zimmer and Patschke (1990) also suggest that this pointing sign in ASL may occur simultaneously with a noun. In HKSL the nearest equivalent gloss is THIS or THAT. This is probably due to the lack of an article system in Cantonese; a definite determiner is usually translated as ‘nei go’ (‘this’) or ‘go go’ (‘that’) in Cantonese. We leave open the issue of whether INDEXdet represents an instance of the article system in HKSL.


(a)

(b)

299

(c)

Figure 12.2 ‘That man eats rice’: 12.2a INDEXdet i ; 12.2b MALE; 12.2c EAT RICE

it is possible that this adverbial is adjoined to N of the NP, hence leading to a different syntactic analysis. Crucially, INDEXdet in HKSL can be inflected for number in both prenominal and postnominal positions. In (2d), the postnominal INDEXdet is inflected for plural by incorporating a circular movement into its articulation while the handshape remains unchanged (see Figure 12.3). This possibility of postnominal plural inflection suggests that postnominal INDEXdet-pl can be a determiner in HKSL. Note that in ASL, the postnominal pointing sign, being only an adverbial, cannot be inflected for number (MacLaughlin 1997). Consistent with this observation, it is – according to our informants – odd to have both a prenominal and a postnominal pointing sign as shown in (2e) since the postnominal INDEXdet can also be interpreted as a determiner. (1)

(2)

4

5

a. [IXi MALE]DP ARRIVE4 ‘The/That man is arriving.’ (MacLaughlin 1997:117) egi a. [INDEXdet i MALE]DP EAT RICE5 ‘That man eats rice.’ egi b. JOHN WANT BUY [INDEXdet i BOOK]DP ‘John wants to buy that/*a book.’

All manual signs of HKSL in this chapter are glossed with capital letters. Where the data involve ASL, they are noted separately. Hyphenation between two signs means that the two signs form a compound. Underscoring is used when more than one English word is needed to gloss the sign. Subscripted labels like INDEXdet are used to state the grammatical category of the sign and/or how the sign is articulated. Subscripted indices on the manual sign or nonmanual markings like eye gaze (e.g. egi ) are used to indicate the spatial information of the referent. INDEXdet i means the definite determiner is pointing to a location i in space. As for nonmanual markings, ‘egA ’ means eye gaze directed toward the addressee; ‘egpath ’ means eye gaze that follows the path of the hand; ‘rs’ refers to role shift in the signing discourse. In some transcriptions, RH refers to the signer’s right hand and LH refers to the left hand. Optionally, eye gaze may extend over only the initial determiner, rather than over the entire DP.

300


(a)

(b)

(c)

Figure 12.3 ‘Those men are reading’: 12.3a MALE; 12.3b INDEXdep-pl i ; 12.3c READ

c.

[MALE INDEXdet i/adv i ]DP SLEEP ‘(That) man (that/there) is sleeping.’ d. [MALE INDEXdet-pl i ]DP READ ‘Those men are reading.’ e. ??[INDEXdet i BOOK INDEXdet i/adv i ]DP EXPENSIVE ‘That book there is expensive.’ egi f. [FEMALE-KID]DP COME ‘That girl is coming.’ According to MacLaughlin (1997), nonmanual markings in ASL are abstract agreement features contained in D.6 When the manual sign is present, the markings may co-occur with it and their spread over the C-command domain of DP is optional. Definite referents are marked by head tilt and/or eye gaze. In HKSL head tilt is seldom used with INDEXdet to mark a definite referent. Very often, this definite determiner sign is accompanied by eye gaze directed at the spatial location of the referent. This nonmanual marking may co-occur with the sign alone or spread to N (2a). If this sign is not present, eye gaze directed at the locus of the referent is obligatory (2f). These findings preliminarily suggest that the system of nonmanual agreement markings for definite referents between ASL and HKSL may be different. However, in both languages the nonmanual agreement markers co-occur with the manual sign in D and may optionally spread over the C-command domain of D. Also, nonmanual markings are obligatory when the manual sign is not present. 6

MacLaughlin (1997) argues that ±definite features and agreement features are located in D in ASL. Nonmanual markings like head tilt and eye gaze are associated with these semantic and syntactic features.


(a)

301

(b)

Figure 12.4a ONEdet/num ; 12.4b ONEnum

12.3.2

Indefinite determiners

Neidle et al. (2000) suggest that SOMETHING/ONEdet in ASL is an indefinite determiner and the degree of tremoring motion is associated with the degree of unidentifiability of the referent.7 If a referent is maximally identifiable, the tremoring motion is minimal and the sign is almost identical to the numeral sign ONEnum . SOMETHING/ONEdet is not directed toward a location, but a diffuse area in space. There is a singular indefinite determiner in HKSL. This sign, glossed as ONEdet , is articulated with the same handshape used for the definite determiner but the index finger points upward instead of outward (see Figure 12.4a). Unlike the indefinite determiner in ASL, ONEdet in HKSL does not involve a tremoring motion. This sign usually selects an N, forming a [ONEdet N] constituent (3a). In both preverbal and postverbal positions, [ONEdet N] is indefinite and specific (3a and 3b). This sign is ambiguous when it occurs in prenominal position because ONEdet and ONEnum are similar in terms of articulation (3a and 3b).8 However, if it occurs in postnominal position, only a quantificational reading is expected (3c, d, e). Some older deaf signers mark number in postnominal position by rotating the forearm so that the palm faces the signer (see Figure 12.4b), which differs from the prenominal ONEdet/num whose articulation shows contralateral palm orientation (see Figure 12.4a). ONEdet is optional if the referent is singular, indefinite and specific (3f). (3)

7 8

egA a. YESTERDAY [ONEdet/num FEMALE-KID]DP COME ‘A girl came yesterday.’

Neidle et al. (2000) observe that SOMETHING/ONE may occur alone, and it is interpreted as a pronominal equivalent to English ‘something’ or ‘someone.’ A distinction suggested by MacLaughlin (1997) is the presence of stress in the articulation of numeral ONE. Our data shows that stress occurs only in postnominal ONE.

302


b. [MALE]DP KICK [ONEdet/num DOG]DP ‘The man kicked a dog.’ c. YESTERDAY [FEMALE-KID ONEnum ]DP COME ‘One girl came yesterday.’ d. FATHER WANT BUY [DOG TWOnum ]DP ‘Father wants to buy two dogs.’ e. [[FEMALE ONEnum ]DP [MALE ONEnum ]DP ]DP 2 PERSON SIT NEXT TO EACH OTHER ‘One woman and one man sat next to each other. egA f. [MALE]DP CYCLE ‘A man is cycling.’ As mentioned above, [ONEdet N] is usually indefinite and specific. Sometimes, this constituent may be preceded by HAVE (see Figure 12.5), or ONEdet/num is simply omitted, yielding a [HAVE N] sequence (4a,b). HAVE appears to be a loan sign from signed Cantonese ‘jau’ and has been quite established in the HKSL lexicon. (4)

a. HAVE [ONEdet/num FEMALE]DP STEAL DOG ‘A female stole a/the dog.’ (a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

(e)

(f)

Figure 12.5 ‘A female stole a dog’: 12.5a HAVE; 12.5b ONEdet/num ; 12.5c FEMALE; 12.5d–e STEAL; 12.5f DOG


303

b. HAVE [MALE]DP STEAL DOG ‘A male stole a/the dog.’ With [HAVE [ONEdet/num N]DP ], the ONE sign is interpreted as a numeral and the sign sequence is similar to the existential constructions in Cantonese except for the absence of a classifier in the constituent:9 (5)

[Jau [saam zek gai]DP ] Have three cl chicken ‘Three chickens died.’

sei die

zo asp

In terms of referential properties, [HAVE [ONEnum N]DP ] or [HAVE [N]DP ] may refer to indefinite specific or nonspecific referents.10 Note that [HAVE [N]DP ] or [HAVE [ONEnum N]DP ] in HKSL does not occur in postverbal position, as in (6). (6)

*[INDEXdet MALE]DP BUY [HAVE [CAR]DP ] ‘That man bought a car.’

In ASL, in addition to eye gaze, the indefinite determiner is “accompanied by a non-manual expression of uncertainty which includes a wrinkled nose, furrowed brows, and a slight rapid head shake” (Neidle et al. 2000:90). Head tilt has not been found to be associated with indefinite referents in ASL. If eye gaze to a location in space occurs during the expression of an indefinite, it targets a more diffuse area than a point in space. In HKSL eye gaze for indefinite specific referents seldom spans a diffuse area in space. Instead, it is directed toward the addressee (3a,f); unlike cases of definite reference, the signer does not break eye contact with the addressee. This pattern of eye gaze is extremely common when the signer introduces a new referent in the signing discourse; 9

‘Jau’ (‘have’) in Cantonese is an existential verb which may be preceded by an adverbial such as ‘nei dou’ (‘here’) or ‘go dou’ (‘there’): i. Nei dou jau saam zek Here have three cl ‘There are three chickens here.’

gai chicken

Note that if the noun is singular and indefinite, the numeral is omitted, yielding a constituent like the one below: ii. Jau zek gai Have cl chicken ‘A chicken died.’ 10

sei die

zo asp

[HAVE NUM N] usually refers to an indefinite specific referent. The numeral in this sign sequence can be postnominal, as in the utterance: i. [HAVE MALE THREE]DP STEAL DOG ‘Three men stole a/the dog.’

304

(a)


(b)

(c)

Figure 12.6a–b ONEdet-path ; 12.6c PERSON

with this pattern of eye gaze, the introduction of the new referent is interpreted as referring to a specific indefinite referent.11 What if the referent is indefinite and nonspecific? The data show that [ONEdet N] in postverbal position may apply to a nonspecific indefinite referent (7a). However, when the signer wishes to indicate that he or she is highly uncertain about the identifiability of the referent, the index finger moves from left to right with a tremoring motion involving the wrist. This sign usually combines with an N, as shown in (7b) (see Figure 12.6) and (7c): (7)

a. FATHER LOOK FOR [ONEdet/num POLICEMAN] ‘Father is looking for a/one policeman.’ egpath egA b. [INDEXpro-3p BOOK]DP GIVE [ONEdet-path PERSON]DP ‘His book was given to someone.’ c. [INDEXdet MALE] WANT TALK [ONEdet-path STUDENT]DP ‘That man wants to talk to a student.’

[ONEdet-path N] normally occurs in postverbal position and is accompanied by round protruded lips, lowered eyebrows and an audible bilabial sound. When this sign is produced, the signer’s eye gaze is never directed at a specific point in space; instead, it follows the path of the hand, suggesting that there is no fixed referent in space. Note that this eye gaze pattern does not spread to the noun. Usually, it returns to the addressee and maintains eye contact with him (or her) when the noun is signed (7b). Alternatively, eye 11

Sometimes, a shift in eye gaze from the addressee to a specific location together with a pointing sign is observed when the signer tries to establish a locus for the new referent: egA egi i. MALE INDEXadv i STEAL DOG ‘A man there stole the dog.’ This sign is taken to be an adverbial in our analysis.


305

gaze is directed at the addressee, maintaining eye contact with him throughout the entire DP. Unlike ASL, ONEdet-path alone is not a pronominal and it is [ONEdet-path PERSON] that is taken to be a pronominal equivalent to the English ‘someone.’ Relative to [ONEdet-path PERSON], it seems that [ONEdet-path N] is not yet established firmly in HKSL, as the informants’ judgments on this constituent are not unanimous, as is the case for other nominal expressions. While all of our deaf informants accept [ONEdet-path PERSON], some prefer [ONE N] or a bare noun to [ONEdet-path N] for nonspecific indefinite referents. In sum, in terms of nonmanual markings, definite determiners require that eye gaze be directed to a specific location in space. On the other hand, the signer maintains eye contact with the addressee when he introduces an indefinite specific or nonspecific referent to the discourse. However, variation is observed with the eye gaze pattern for indefinite nonspecific referents. The ONEdet-path sign may also be accompanied by eye gaze that tracks the path of the hand.

12.4

Pronouns

It has been assumed that pronouns are determiners (Abney 1987; Cheng and Sybesma 1999). MacLaughlin (1997) argues that pronouns and definite determiners in ASL are the same lexical element, base-generated in D. In HKSL the pointing sign may be interpreted as a pronoun when signed alone, hence glossed as INDEXpro . We assume that this manual sign is base-generated in D and has a [+definite] feature. It can be inflected for person and number (8a,b,c). Note also that (8d) is ambiguous; it can either be a pronominal or a demonstrative. (8)

egi a. [INDEXpro-3p i ]DP CRY ‘She cried.’ b. [INDEXpro-1p i ]DP LOVE [INDEXpro-3p j ]DP ‘I love him.’ c. [INDEXpro-1p i ]DP LOVE [INDEXpro-3p-pl j ]DP ‘I love them’ d. [INDEXpro-3p i/det i ]DP TALL, [INDEXpro-3p j/det j ]DP SHORT ‘It/This (tree) is tall, it/this (tree) is short.’

In HKSL pronouns are optionally marked by eye gaze directed at the location of the referent in space, similar to the definite determiner (8a). Based on the observations made so far, INDEXdet and INDEXpro are associated with the definiteness and agreement features in HKSL.

306


(a)

(b)

Figure 12.7a POSSdet i ; 12.7b POSSneu

12.5

Possessives

There are two signs for possessives in HKSL: a possessive marker, glossed as POSS, and a sign similar to INDEXpro , which is interpreted as a possessive pronoun. Similar to ASL, POSS is articulated with a B handshape with all the extended fingers (thumb included) pointing upward. POSS may be neutral or inflected such that the palm is oriented toward the location of the possessor in space (see Figures 12.7a, 12.7b). As we shall see, this possessive marker is highly restricted in distribution in HKSL. It differs from ASL in the following respects. First, possessive DPs in HKSL that are transitive (i.e. categorize for a NP) do not have an overt possessive marker, as in (9a) and (9b). Therefore, (9c) is unacceptable in HKSL.12 (9)

egi a. [PETER CAR]DP BREAK DOWN ‘Peter’s car broke down.’ b. YESTERDAY I SIT [PETER CAR]DP ‘I rode in Peter’s car yesterday.’ c. *[PETERi POSSi CAR] OLD ‘Peter’s car is old.’

In ASL, possessive constructions require a possessive marker POSS that agrees with the possessor (10a). Alternatively, POSS is a pronominal in (10b). An equivalent structure in HKSL as shown in (11a) would be ruled out as ungrammatical and POSS does not occur before the possessee as a pronominal but INDEXpro does (11b): (10)

a. [FRANKi POSSi NEW CAR]DP

(ASL data from Neidle et al. 2000:94)

‘Frank’s new car’ 12

Some deaf signers accept this pattern; however, they admit that they are adopting signed Cantonese, and the sequence can be translated as ‘Peter ge syu.’ The morpheme /ge/ is a possessive marker in spoken Cantonese.


(11)

307

b. [POSSi NEW CAR]DP (ASL data from Neidle et al. 2000:94) ‘his new car’ a. *YESTERDAY [POSSi NEW CAR]DP BREAK DOWN ‘His new car broke down yesterday.’ egi b. [INDEXpro-3p i DOG]DP DIE ‘His dog died.’

In ASL, POSS occupies the D position and it becomes optional only when it is associated with inalienable possession (12): (12)

[MARYi (POSSi ) EYE] ‘Mary’s eye’

Another difference between ASL and HKSL is that POSS in HKSL is restricted to the predicative possessive context. In the predicative context, if the possessor is not associated with a locus in space, POSS is uninflected (13a). If the referent is physically accessible for identification, such as (13b), POSS agrees with the spatial location of the referent. In this case, POSS may function pronominally as a genitive, similar to INDEXpro (see Figure 12.8). (13)

a. [INDEXdet i BOOK]DP [[WONG POSSneu ]DP ]VP ‘That book is Wong’s.’ egj b. [INDEXdet i DOG]DP [[POSSj /INDEXpro j ]DP ]VP ‘That dog is his.’

In (13a), we assume that the possessor surfaces in the specifier position of DP, and POSS is base-generated in D and contains a [+definite] feature. If the possessor is physically present or has already assumed a locus in the signing space, either an independent POSS or INDEXpro is used in the predicative context, as shown in (13b). In this case, POSS is a pronominal and we

(a)

(b)

(c)

Figure 12.8 ‘That dog is his’: 12.8a INDEXdet i ; 12.8b DOG; 12.8c POSSdet j

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assume that it occupies D, similar to INDEXpro . Therefore, the orientation of the palm and direction of movement agree with the spatial location of the referent. Neidle et al. (2000) propose that, in possessive constructions in ASL, head tilt is associated with the possessor and eye gaze with the possessee. As mentioned previously, head tilt as an agreement marker for definite determiners is seldom employed in HKSL, neither is there a distinctive division of labor of nonmanual markings for the possessor and the possessee in HKSL. Similar to the pronouns, POSS and INDEXpro in possessive constructions are usually accompanied by eye gaze at a specific location in space in a predicative context (13b; see Figure 12.7a). In sum, we have provided a descriptive account of the syntactic constituents of the nominal expressions in HKSL. Despite some differences in the surface constructions of the languages being compared, the nominal expressions of HKSL show formal properties of linguistic structuring that have been discussed in the spoken language literature. The data suggest that a lexical category like the noun phrase in HKSL has above it a functional projection headed by a determiner located in D (compare Abney 1987). According to Longobardi (1994:613), a nominal expression is “an argument only if it is introduced by a category D.” Therefore, the noun phrase that occupies an argument position in our analysis is assumed to be a determiner phrase and acquires its referential properties through D. The manual signs for the determiners, pronouns, and possessives – together with their associated nonmanual signs in HKSL – demonstrate functions of D that are hypothesized to be associated with the referential features such as ±definite and agreement features. Our data show that the head N is usually associated with these manual signs in D and the scope of nonmanual markings of D may cover N. Nevertheless, in the following sections, we turn to a phenomenon that might enable us to examine the modality issue in a different light. We propose that while the visual–gestural modality may not lead to a difference in linguistic structuring at the syntactic level, it may influence the distribution and interpretation of nominal expressions in the signing discourse. 12.6

Predominance of bare nouns: An indication of modality effects?

HKSL is similar to ASL in that both the definite and indefinite determiners may be optional. As such, bare nouns are quite common in HKSL. They may be definite (14a), indefinite specific (14b), indefinite nonspecific (14c), and generic (14d). Also, almost all bare nouns occur in either preverbal or postverbal positions. The only exception is that in preverbal position, a bare noun cannot be indefinite and nonspecific unless it is preceded by HAVE, forming a [HAVE (ONE) N] constituent (see Section 12.3.2). Recovery of the respective


309

referential properties is a function of the discourse context in which they occur.13 (14)

egi a. [DOG]DP CATCH MOUSE (definite) ‘The dog caught a mouse.’ egA b. I SEE [DOG]DP LIE INDEXadv (indefinite specific) ‘I saw a dog lying there.’ egA c. I GO CATCH [BUTTERFLY]DP (indefinite nonspecific) ‘I’ll go and catch a butterfly.’ egA d. I LIKE [VEGETABLE]DP (generic) ‘I like vegetables.’

In a study of narratives in HKSL (Sze 2000), bare nouns were observed to refer to definite referents for about 40% of all the nominal expressions under study and 58% for indefinite and specific referents, as shown by examples (15a) and (15b): (15)

a. [DOG]DP CL:ANIMAL JUMP INTO BASKET (definite) ‘The dog jumped into a basket.’ (indefinite specific) b. [MALE]DP RIDE A BICYCLE ‘A man is riding a bicycle.’

Many spoken languages do not allow bare nouns for such a wide range of referents. English bare nouns, for instance, refer to generic entities only. In Cantonese bare nouns only yield a generic reading. They cannot be definite in either preverbal or postverbal positions (16a). To be definite, the count noun ‘horse,’ if singular, requires a lexical classifier ‘zek’ to precede it and a mass noun like ‘grass’ is preceded by a special classifier ‘di,’ as shown in (16b) (Matthews and Yip 1994). In postverbal position, a bare noun may yield an indefinite nonspecific reading (16c). (16)

13

(generic/*definite) a. [Maa]DP sik [cou]DP Horse eat grass ‘Horses eat grass.’/*‘The horse is eating the grass.’ b. [Zek maa]DP sik gan [di cou]DP (definite) cl horse eat asp cl grass ‘The horse is eating the grass.’

It is not clear whether ASL exhibits a similar pattern of distribution with bare nouns. The data from Neidle et al. (2000) suggest that bare nouns in both preverbal and postverbal positions can be either indefinite or definite.

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c. Ngo soeng heoi I want go ‘I want to buy a book.’

maai buy

[syu]DP (indefinite nonspecific) book

In what follows, we discuss the distribution of nominal expressions, in particular that of bare nouns in HKSL discourse. Although the effect of modality on linguistic structure may be minimal at the syntactic level, we would like to suggest that factors pertinent to a signing discourse may lead to differences such as the distribution and interpretation of bare nouns. These factors can be described in terms of the types of mental spaces invoked by the signer during the flow of discourse, as well as the physical and conceptual location of the referents in these mental spaces. One can view the interpretation of nominal expressions in a signing discourse as a result of the interaction between the signer’s knowledge of the syntactic properties of the nominal expressions, their respective referential properties and the type of mental space invoked.

12.7

Mental spaces and nominal expressions: Toward an explanation

Liddell (1994; 1995; 1996) argues that there is a relationship between mental spaces and nominal reference. In the spirit of Fauconnier (Fauconnier 1985; 1997), he argues that mental spaces are conceptual domains of referential structure that people talk about and that can be built up during discourse as a common ground between the speaker and the addressee. In signed language analysis, Liddell conceptualizes space, as having three types: real space, surrogate space, and token space.14 Real space is a conceptual representation of the current, directly perceivable physical environment. When the referents are present in the immediate environment, they are represented in the real space of the signer. Pointing signs or indicating verbs that serve a deictic function would be used because they entail locational information of the referent in the real world. In surrogate space, the referents are not physically present. However, the signer can introduce them into the discourse as surrogate entities in that mental space. Reference to these surrogates can be made through pointing signs, indicating verbs or role shift. According to Liddell, surrogates may take first, second, and third person roles.15 14

15

Liddell’s concept of mental spaces actually differs from Fauconnier’s. The types of mental spaces as described by Fauconnier (1985) are nongrounded (i.e. not in the immediate environment of either the speaker or the addressee) and not physically accessible. The mental spaces proposed by Liddell may be grounded and physically accessible. We leave the debate on person distinctions in signed language open. For example, Meier (1990) argues that ASL does not distinguish second and third person in the pronominal system.


311

In token space, conceptual entities are given a manifestation in confined, physical space. They usually assume a third person role. According to Liddell, and subsequently Liddell and Metzger (1998), all these mental spaces are grounded mental spaces, and the conceptual entities within each of them can be referred to as part of the signer’s perception of the context. They are not linguistic representations, but conceptual structures perceived by the signer for meaningful mental representations of conceptions, things, events, etc. However, they influence the nature of linguistic representations whose use they underline. It is argued that spatial loci do not contain agreement features but reflect location of referents only, and the pointing signs directed toward them are deictic rather than anaphoric. While agreeing with Liddell’s proposal that mental spaces being conceptual structures are essentially the same regardless of the modality of communication, we adopt the position that, in signed language, spatial loci contain agreement features for the manual and nonmanual markings of the signs directed toward them. Space in signed language is both functional and linguistic and its role changes according to the level of representation that the grammar is associated with. At the discourse level, the choice of grammatical reference in signed language is a function of how “active” or “identifiable” a referent is in the conceptualizer’s awareness as well as the type of mental space selected.16 Therefore, it is highly likely that less complex nominal expressions such as bare nouns are used when the discourse content is sufficient for the signer to identify the referent. In fact, research on pronominal reference suggests that there is considerable uniformity across signed languages in the use of space for referential and anaphoric purpose. Also, pronouns of signed language exhibit a high degree of referential specificity since spatial location allows for the unambiguous identification of referents (Poizner, Klima and Bellugi 1987; McBurney this volume). If the referents are physically present or have already been assigned a referential locus, less complex nominal expressions are likely to be used because identification of the referent in this case does not require a great deal of lexical content.17 Generally speaking, referential properties in spoken languages like English or Cantonese are conveyed by linguistic cues such as the article system, syntactic structure, or syntactic position. However, in HKSL we observe that the mental spaces invoked by the signer interact with these linguistic cues in establishing grammatical reference through the language. 16

17

Little signed language research to date has been conducted using the concept of mental spaces; and most existing studies are concerned with pronominal reference and verb types in signed language (Liddell 1995; van Hoek 1996). Null arguments are also common in signed languages, and recently there has been a debate on the recoverability of null arguments. Views have diverged into recoverability via discourse topics (Lillo-Martin 1991) or via person agreement (Bahan et al. 2000).

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12.7.1

Bare nouns

In the absence of a determiner, the reference of bare nouns in HKSL may be identified via eye gaze. While eye gaze at a specific location in space is observed to be associated with definite referents, maintaining eye gaze at the addressee suggests indefinite referents. We observe that the occurrence of bare nouns is also dependent upon the type of mental space invoked as well as the accessibility of the referents’ spatial information. If real space is being invoked in the signer’s consciousness, the referents are physically present in the immediate environment. In this case, the signer generally resists using a bare noun to introduce a new referent into the signing discourse or to refer to a previously mentioned referent. Instead, INDEXpro is used since the referent is perceived by the signer to be maximally accessible in real space. In other words, the signer assumes that the addressee is also cognizant of the presence of the referent in the physical environment whose spatial location is expressed by INDEXpro and its respective eye gaze. If the referent is relatively further away from the signer but lies within a visible distance, [INDEXdet N] would be used. Bare nouns appear to be quite common in surrogate space and are used to refer to either definite or indefinite referents. As mentioned, to introduce an indefinite specific referent with a bare noun, the signer generally maintains eye contact with the addressee. This finding corroborates the observation of Ahlgren and Bergman (1994) with regard to Swedish Sign Language. Also, if the context is transparent enough to allow unambiguous identification of the referent, a bare noun is selected with eye gaze at the addressee (17):

(17)

rsbody shifts left egA egA [MALE]DP HITi [WOMAN]DP ‘A man hit a woman.’

In this context, the narrator is describing an event that happened the night before. It involves a man hitting a woman. After introducing the man, the deaf signer assumes the role of the male referent and hits at a specific location on his right before he signs WOMAN, suggesting that the woman is standing on the right side of the man who hits her. In both instances, the deaf signer gazes at the addressee for MALE and WOMAN but his gaze turns to the direction of the woman surrogate when he signs HIT. We also found role shift to accompany bare nouns in HKSL; here, it is usually associated with definite specific referents (18):


(18)

313

egA egA [MALE]DP CYCLE KNOW[MALE]DP BACK, rsbody leans backward [MALE]DP DRIVE CAR BE ARROGANT PRESS HORN ‘A man who was riding a bicycle knew that there was a male driving a car behind him. The driver was arrogant and pressed the horn.’

This narrative features a driver and a cyclist. The cyclist in front notices that there is a driver behind him. The driver arrogantly sounds the horn. Both men in the event are introduced into the discourse using eye gaze directed at the addressee. However, to refer to the driver again as a definite referent, the signer’s body leans backward to assume the role of the driver. Therefore, role shift in this example is associated with a definite referent in surrogate space. However, role shift appears to be more functional than grammatical since the data show that this nonmanual marking spreads over the entire predicate (18). In other words, role shift seems to cover the entire event predicate rather than a single nominal expression. Nevertheless, the use of eye gaze at the addressee to introduce an indefinite specific referent as shown in (17) and (18) is quite common among the deaf signers of HKSL. Alternatively, the signer may direct his eye gaze at a specific location in space in order to establish a referential locus for the referent. The latter phenomenon is also reported in Lillo-Martin (1991). In a definite context, the bare noun is associated with either eye gaze directed at the locus or role shift (19):

(19)

rsbody shifts left egA egj egj egj [MALE]DP SEEj [BEGGAR]DP GIVEj MONEY ‘A man saw the beggar and gave money (to the beggar).’

In this example, the male is perceived by the signer to be on the left of the beggar. When signing MALE, the signer’s eye gaze is directed at the addressee. When he signs SEE, he shifts his body to the left to assume the role of the man, suggesting that the man is on the left of the beggar. Note that, through eye gaze, the object of the verb SEE agrees with the location of this ‘surrogate’ beggar in space. His eye gaze continues to fix at that location when he signs BEGGAR in the neutral signing space. This bare noun refers to a definite referent because the beggar is already established in the previous discourse. In this example, the signer maintains this shifted position once he assumes the role of the man; he further signs GIVE whose indirect object agrees with the locus of the beggar. Therefore, even if the referent for MALE is not assigned a locus in surrogate space, role shift helps to identify the referent, and the verb has to agree with the shifted position as subject.

314


In our data, there are fewer bare nouns in token space than in surrogate space. It could be that token space is invoked particularly upon the production of classifier predicates. In this case, the referents are usually perceived to be maximally accessible and INDEXpro is common. In fact, Liddell (1995) observes that the entities (tokens) in this type of mental space are limited to a third person role in the discourse. Nevertheless, occasional instances of bare nouns are found, as shown by the following example: (20)

egi egj MALE PERSON BE LOCATEDi , FEMALE PERSON BE LOCATEDj , egj egi INDEXpro-3p j j SCOLDi , MALE ANGRY, WALK TOWARD i HITj

‘A man is located here. A woman is located here (The man is placed in front of the woman). She scolds him. The man becomes angry. He walks toward her and hits her.’ In this example, a man is standing in front of a woman who keeps scolding him. The man becomes angry, walks toward the woman and hits her. The first mention of the man and woman is indefinite specific, and the signer is gazing at the addressee. As the discourse continues, the male is mentioned again; instead of using an INDEXpro-3p , as we observe with the second mention of the woman referent, a bare noun is used but the eye gaze is directed toward a human classifier (token) located at a specific point in space. It clearly indicates that the bare noun in this context is referring to a definite referent. Generally speaking, with the adoption of different forms of eye gaze, the referential properties of bare nouns can be established. This is possible because the three types of mental space provide a conceptual structure for the comprehension of reference and coreference, and deaf signers capitalize on the functions and constraints of these mental spaces. Where the relation between meaning and referent is transparent or identifiable, a bare noun instead of a complex nominal expression is preferred. 12.7.2

Determiners

As discussed previously, a definite determiner necessarily agrees with the spatial location associated with the referent. It follows that if a signer does not conceptualize a location in the signing space for the referent, definite determiners would not be used. In fact, INDEXdet in HKSL can be associated with both proximal and distal referents in surrogate space, as in (21a) and (21b): (21)

egi -downward) KID] SMART a. [INDEXdet (center DP i ‘This kid is smart.’

(proximal surrogate)


egi -forward) MALE] SMART b. [INDEXdet (center DP i ‘That man is smart.’

315

(distal surrogate)

INDEXdet in the above situations is used instead of INDEXpro although both may be used for proximal referents. It may be that surrogate space is perceptually more remote than real space in the signer’s consciousness. A referent physically located in real space may be regarded as more accessible than an imagined surrogate even if the latter occupies the same location in surrogate space. Therefore, INDEXdet to refer to a definite referent is preferred in surrogate space rather than in real space. 12.7.3

Pronouns

Although a pronoun normally implicates full accessibility and identifiability of its referent through anaphoric relations, given a situation where there is more than one referent in the discourse, the use of pronouns might fail the principle of identifiability. A third person pronoun in Cantonese is phonetically realized as ‘keoi’ (‘he/she/it’) and interpretation is crucially dependent upon contextual information. INDEXpro in HKSL typically provides spatial location of the referent in the signing space, leading to unambiguous identifiability. In Cantonese, where more than one referent is involved, a complex nominal expression or proper name is used instead to identify the referent in the discourse. In HKSL, INDEXpro is seldom ambiguous, since it is directed at the referent either in the immediate environment or via its conceptual location in space. As a consequence, INDEXpro is found in all kinds of mental spaces, but more prominently in real space and token space. In token space, it is common to use INDEXpro directed at the classifier in the predicate construction. Prior to the articulation of (22), a locative predicate is set up in such a way that the father is located on the left and the son on the right. Both referents are represented by a human classifier articulated with a Y handshape with the thumb pointing upward and the pinky finger downward: (22)

egi LH: FATHER PERSON BE LOCATEDi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . egj RH: SON PERSON BE LOCATEDj LH: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . i SHOOTj egi RH: INDEXpro i PERSON BE LOCATEDj . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘The father is located on the left of the signer and the son is on the right. He (the father) shot him (the son).’

316


Having set up the spatial location of the two referents through the locative predicates, the signer produces INDEXpro with his right hand (RH), directing it at the human classifier (i.e. the father) located on the left (LH). Note that the eye gaze that accompanies INDEXpro is also directed at the referent (i.e. the father) in this token space. The right hand (RH) then retracts to the right and re-articulates a locative predicate with a human classifier referring to the son. The left hand (LH) changes to SHOOT showing subject–object agreement, indicating that it is the father who shoots the son. The specific location of the tokens in space as depicted through the classifier predicates favors the occurrence of INDEXpro in subsequent signing.

12.7.4

Possessives

Our discourse data show that predicative possessive constructions that contain POSS are common in real space (23a,b). What triggers such a distribution? We argue that the presence of the referent, especially the possessee, in the immediate physical environment is a crucial determinant. To refer to the possessee that is physically present, a pronominal index as grammatical subject with eye gaze at a particular location is observed. It is usually followed by a predicative possessive construction in which POSS may function as a possessive marker or a pronominal (23). When the possessor is not present, as in (23a), [possessor POSSneu ] is adopted in the predicative construction and it is usually directed toward the signer’s right at the face level while the signer maintains eye contact with the addressee. Even if the possessor is present, as in (23b), the sign for the possessor JOHN is optional but POSS has to agree with the specific location of the possessor in space.

(23)

egi egi a. [INDEXpro-3p i ]DP [JOHN POSSneu ]DP , [INDEXpro-3p i ]DP SICK ‘It (the dog) is John’s. It is sick.’ (possessee present, possessor not present) egi egj egi b. [INDEXpro-3p i ]DP [(JOHN) POSSj ]DP , [INDEXpro-3p i ]DP SICK ‘It (the dog) is his. It is sick.’ (possessee present, possessor present)

If the possessee is absent in the physical environment, to refer to it in real space, a full possessive DP in the form of [possessor possessee] would be used (24,25):


(24)

egi [INDEXpro-3p i DOG]DP SICK

317

(possessor present, possessee absent)

‘His dog is sick.’ In (24), INDEXpro is interpreted as a possessive pronoun that selects a noun as its complement. In (25) a full determiner phrase is used to refer to a definite referent, and the nonmanual marking for INDEXdet has to agree with the location of the possessor, which is assumed to be distant from the signer. (25)

egi [INDEXdet i MALE DOG]DP SICK

(possessor present, possessee absent)

‘That man’s dog is sick.’ Where both the possessor and the possessee are absent from the immediate environment, a possessive DP in the form of [possessor possessee] is observed without any specific nonmanual agreement features (26). (26)

[JOHN DOG]DP SICK ‘John’s dog is sick.’

(possessor absent, possessee absent)

To summarize, one can observe that, in real space, the choice of possessive constructions is determined in part by the presence or absence of the referents in the immediate physical environment. 12.8

Conclusion

The data described in this chapter show that while conforming to general principles of linguistic structuring at the syntactic level, the nominal expressions in HKSL display some variation in nonmanual markings and syntactic order when compared with ASL. First, while it has been claimed that unique nonmanual markings including both head tilt and eye gaze are abstract agreement features for D in ASL, data from HKSL show that only eye gaze at a specific location is a potential nonmanual marker for definiteness. Eye gaze at a specific location in space co-occurs with a definite referent, but maintaining eye contact with the addressee is associated with an indefinite referent. Second, there appears to be a subtle difference between signed and spoken languages in the types of nominal expressions that can denote (in)definiteness. We observe that bare nouns are common in HKSL and they are accompanied by different nonmanual markings to refer to definite, indefinite, and generic referents. Definite bare nouns may also be reflected by the signer’s adoption of role shift in our data. Third, we observe that there is a relationship between the type of mental spaces and the distribution of nominal expressions for referential purpose. This reflects the signer’s perceived use of space in the signing

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discourse, in particular his or her choice of mental spaces for the representation of entities and their relations. Nevertheless, the analysis shows a reliance on narrative data. More data, especially those from free conversations or from other signed languages, are sorely needed in order to verify the observations presented in this chapter. Acknowledgments The research was supported by the Direct Grant of the Chinese University of Hong Kong, No. 2101020. We would like to thank the following people for helpful comments on the earlier drafts of this chapter: Gu Yang, Steve Matthews, the editors, and two anonymous reviewers. We would also like to thank Tso Chi Hong, Wong Kai Fung, Lam Tung Wah, and Kenny Chu for providing intuitive judgments on the signed language data. We thank also Kenny Chu for being our model and for preparing the images. 12.9

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Abney, Steven P. 1987. The English noun phrase in its sentential aspect. Doctoral dissertation, MIT, Cambridge, MA. Ahlgren, Inger and Brita Bergman. 1994. Reference in narratives. In Perspectives on sign language structure: Papers from the 5th International Symposium on Sign Language Research, ed. Inger Ahlgren, Brita Bergman and Mary Brennan, 29–36. Durham: International Sign Linguistics Association, University of Durham. Allan, Keith. 1977. Classifiers. Language 53:285–311. Bahan, Benjamin, Judy Kegl, Robert G. Lee, Dawn MacLaughlin and Carol Neidle. 2000. The licensing of null arguments in American Sign Language. Linguistic Inquiry 31:1–27. Brentari, Diane. 1998. A prosodic model of sign language phonology. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Cheng, Lisa and Rint R. Sybesma. 1999. Bare and not-so-bare nouns and the structure of NP. Linguistic Inquiry 20:509–542. Crain, Stephen and Diane Lillo-Martin. 1999. An introduction to linguistic theory and language acquisition. Malden, MA: Blackwell. Fauconnier, Gilles. 1985. Mental spaces: Aspects of meaning construction in natural language. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Fauconnier, Gilles. 1997. Mapping in thought and language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fromkin, Victoria A. 1973. Slips of the tongue. Scientific American 229:109–117. Kegl, Judy. 1985. Locative relations in American Sign Language: Word formation, syntax and discourse. Doctoral dissertation, MIT, Cambridge, MA. Klima, Edward and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Liddell, Scott K. 1980. American Sign Language syntax. The Hague: Mouton. Liddell, Scott K. 1994. Tokens and surrogates. In Perspectives on sign language


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structure: Papers from the 5th International Symposium on Sign Language Research, ed. Inger Ahlgren, Brita Bergman and Mary Brennan, 105–119. Durham, England: International Sign Linguistics Association, University of Durham. Liddell, Scott K. 1995. Real, surrogate and token space: grammatical consequences in ASL. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 19–42. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Liddell, Scott K. 1996. Spatial representation in discourse: comparing spoken and sign language. Lingua 98:145–167. Liddell, Scott K. and Melanie Metzger. 1998. Gesture in sign language discourse. Journal of Pragmatics 30:657–697. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1991 Universal Grammar and American Sign Language: Setting the null argument parameters. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic. Lillo-Martin, Diane. 1999. Modality effects and modularity in language acquisition: The acquisition of American Sign Language. In Handbook of child language acquisition, ed. Tej K. Bhatia and William C. Ritchie, 531–568. San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Longobardi, Giuseppe. 1994. Reference and proper names: a theory of N-movement in syntax and logical form. Linguistic Inquiry 25:609–665. MacLaughlin, Dawn. 1997. The structure of determiner phrases: Evidence from American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, Boston University, Boston, MA. Matthews, Stephen and Virginia Yip. 1994. Cantonese: A comprehensive grammar. London: Routledge. Meier, Richard P. 1990. Person deixis in American Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research. Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple, 175–190. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Neidle, Carol, Judy Kegl, Dawn MacLaughlin, Benjamin Bahan, and Robert G. Lee. 2000. The syntax of American Sign Language. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Padden, Carol. 1990. The relation between space and grammar in ASL verb morphology. In Sign language research: Theoretical issues, ed. Ceil Lucas, 118–132. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Poizner, Howard, Edward Klima, and Ursula Bellugi. 1987. What the hands reveal about the brain. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Sze, Felix Y. B. 2000. Space and nominals in Hong Kong Sign Language. M.Phil. thesis, Chinese University of Hong Kong. Tang, Gladys. 1999. Motion events in Hong Kong Sign Language. Paper presented at the Annual Research Forum, Hong Kong Linguistic Society, Chinese University of Hong Kong, December. van Hoek, Karen. 1996. Conceptual locations for reference in American Sign Language. In Spaces, worlds, and grammar, ed. Gilles Fauconnier and Eve Sweetser, 334–350. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Wilbur, Ronnie B. 1979. American Sign Language and sign systems. Baltimore, MD: University Park Press. Zimmer, June and Cynthia Patschke. 1990. A class of determiners in ASL. In Sign language research: Theoretical issues, ed. Cecil Lucas, 201–210. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press.

Part IV

Using space and describing space: Pronouns, classifiers, and verb agreement

The hands of a signer move within a three-dimensional space. Some signs contact places on the body that are near the top of the so-called signing space. Thus, the American Sign Language (ASL) signs FATHER, BLACK, SUMMER, INDIA, and APHASIA all contact the center of the signer’s forehead. Other signs contact body regions low in the signing space: RUSSIA, NAVY, and DIAPER target locations at or near the signer’s waist. Still other signs move from location to location within space: the dominant hand of SISTER moves from the signer’s cheek to contact with the signer’s nondominant hand; that nondominant hand is located in the “neutral space” in front of the signer’s torso. In the sign WEEK, the dominant hand (with its extended index finger) moves across the flat palm of the nondominant hand. As these examples indicate, articulating the signs of ASL requires that the hands be placed in space and be moved through space. Is this, however, different from the articulation of speech? The oral articulators also move in space: the mouth opens and closes, the tongue tip and tongue body move within the oral cavity, and the velum is raised and lowered. Yet the very small articulatory space of speech is largely hidden within our cheeks, meaning that the actions of the oral articulators occur largely (but not entirely) out of sight. In contrast, the actions of the arms and hands are there for everyone to see. The fact that the articulation of speech is out of view accounts for the failure of lipreading; lipreading is ineffective because most movements of the oral articulators are not visible to be read. Somewhat surprisingly the kinds of signs in ASL and other signed languages that are listed in dictionaries make less use of space than one might have expected. For such signs, there is no contrast between locations on the left side of the neutral space in front of the signer vs. locations on the right side of the space in front of the signer.1 And in the phonologies of spoken languages there is no contrast between alveolars (e.g. [t] or [d]) made on the left side of the mouth 1

The only potential counterexamples of which I am aware involve the signs for EAST and WEST; one variant of EAST moves to the right, whereas a variant of WEST moves to the left. In addition, certain signs for HEART are generally made on the left side of the midline, regardless of whether the signer is right handed or left handed.

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vs. the right side, even though it would seem that the tongue tip has sufficient mobility to achieve such a contrast. However, dictionary entries do not make a language. Spatial distinctions are widespread elsewhere in ASL and other signed languages. Most pronouns in ASL are pointing signs that indicate the specific locations of their referents, or locations that have – during a sign conversation – been associated with those referents. So, if I am discussing John and Mary – both of whom happen to be in the room – it makes all the difference in the world whether I point to John’s location on the left, as opposed to Mary’s location on the right. If John and Mary are not present, I the signer may establish a location on my right for Mary and one on my left for John (or vice versa). I can then point back to the locations when I want to refer to John or Mary later in a conversation. My addressee can do the same. Spatial distinctions are crucial to the system of verb agreement, whereby a transitive verb “agrees with” the location associated with its direct or indirect object (depending on the particular verb) and optionally with its subject. Along with word order, the spatial modification of verbs is one of the two ways in which sign languages mark the argument structure of verbs. So, a sign such as GIVE obligatorily moves toward the spatial location associated with its indirect object (the recipient). Optionally, the movement path of GIVE may start near a location associated with its subject. Sign languages also use the sign space to talk about the locations of objects in space and their movement; this is the phenomenon that Karen Emmorey addresses in her chapter (Chapter 15). So-called classifier handshapes indicate whether a referent is, in the case of ASL, a small animal, a tree, a human, an airplane, a vehicle other than an airplane, or a flat thin object, among other categories.2 A classifier handshape on the dominant hand can be moved with respect to a classifier on the nondominant hand to indicate whether, for instance, a car drove in front of a tree, or behind a tree, or whether it crashed into the tree. Karen Emmorey argues that the use of space to represent space – in contrast to the prepositional or postpositional phrases that are characteristic of many spoken languages – means that different cognitive abilities are required to comprehend spatial descriptions in ASL than in spoken languages. In particular, she argues that comprehension of signed spatial descriptions requires that the addressee perform a mental transformation on that space that is not required in the comprehension of spoken descriptions. In her chapter, Susan McBurney makes a useful distinction between modality and medium (Chapter 13). For her, modality refers to the articulatory and perceptual apparatus used to transmit and receive language. For visual–gestural languages, that apparatus includes the manual articulators and the visual system. 2

There is now considerable debate about the extent of the analogy between classifier constructions in signed languages and those in spoken languages. It is the verbal classifiers of the Athabascan languages to which sign classifiers may bear the strongest resemblance (see Newport 1982).


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However, the medium for naturally-evolved signed languages is space (and, of course, time), whereas the medium for spoken languages is time (see Pinker and Bloom 1990). It is not inevitable that visual–gestural languages would exploit the spatial medium, but all naturally-evolved signed languages seem to do so. Artificial sign systems such as Signing Exact English (SEE 2) and other forms of Manually-Coded English (see Supalla and McKee, Chapter 6) make little or no use of the resources that the signing space makes available. Instead these sign systems depend crucially on the sequencing of units that correspond to the morphology of English. Interestingly, Supalla (1991) has demonstrated that deaf children exposed only to SEE 2 altered if by adding a system of verb agreement very much akin to that of natural signed languages. Chapters 13–17 focus on these three areas of the linguistics of signed languages: pronouns, verb agreement, and classifiers. All three of these domains depend crucially on the meaningful use of the sign space. In a discussion of how signers may refer to nonpresent referents, Klima and Bellugi (1979:277) suggested that the signer can use the space in front of him or her “as a kind of stage.” Lillo-Martin (Chapter 10) makes clear that we may be particularly likely to find modality differences between signed and spoken languages in the use of the sign space. At first glance, the pronominal signs of most signed languages seem hardly worth our attention: most typically, the nominative/accusative forms have an extended index finger identical to the pointing gestures of hearing nonsigners. A point that contacts the center of the signer’s own chest refers to the signer himself or herself (or to a quoted signer); a point toward the addressee refers to that person; and a point to some non-addressed participant in the conversation refers to that individual. There are no surprises here. Possessive pronouns differ only in handshape: in ASL, a flat hand (specifically a B hand) replaces the extended index finger of the nominative/accusative forms. It is clear that these pointing signs serve the same functions as the first, second and third person pronouns of a language like English. But is it appropriate to use the terminology of grammatical person in describing these pointing signs? Early descriptions of ASL tended to do so and consequently posited a three person system very much akin to the person distinctions of the pronominal systems of spoken languages. In a 1990 publication, Meier argued that such analyses were not well motivated, for two fundamental reasons: r Early analyses of person considered conversational behaviors of the speaker/ signer that distinguish addressee from non-addressed participant (e.g. direction of gaze, or orientation of the signer’s torso) to be grammaticized markers of second vs. third person; and r The spatialized nature of ASL pronouns actually allows many more referents to be distinguished than can be made by a binary distinction between second and third person.

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Instead of a three person system, Meier suggested what is in effect a compromise; he argued that the pronominal system of ASL is best described in terms of a first/nonfirst person distinction and that there is no evidence for a grammatical distinction in ASL between second and third person. (Just to reiterate: saying that there is no grammatical distinction between second and third persons does not, of course, mean that the language has difficulty in distinguishing reference to the addressee from reference to some non-addressed participant.) His arguments for a distinct first person hinged on certain idiosyncratic properties of first person forms, in particular the pronouns WE and OUR, and on the way in which first person pronouns are interpreted in direct quotation. The first/nonfirst analysis has been adopted in the description of other signed languages as well, such as Taiwanese Sign Language (Smith 1990) and Danish Sign Language (Engberg-Pedersen 1993). In her chapter, Susan McBurney (Chapter 13) returns to the issue of what the nature of the person distinctions are in ASL and a variety of other signed languages for which she could find evidence in the published literature. She makes the important observation that – unlike the pronominal systems of spoken languages – the pronominal systems of signed languages are fundamentally uniform from one sign language to the next. Although there is crosslinguistic variation in sign pronominal systems (e.g. in the gender distinctions of certain Asian sign languages), that variation pales in comparison to the dramatic differences encountered in the pronominal systems of spoken languages. McBurney’s chapter also makes clear that the analysis of person in signed languages remains unsettled. She argues, contrary to Meier (1990), that there is no person system in signed languages, but that there is a grammaticized set of number distinctions. Here McBurney echoes the recent work of Scott Liddell (2000). In contrast, two other chapters in this volume – those by Lillo-Martin (Chapter 10) and by Rathmann and Mathur (Chapter 14) – adopt the first/nonfirst model. Clearly there is room for more research on this issue. Christian Rathmann and Gaurav Mathur (Chapter 14) tackle many of the same issues as Susan McBurney, but their focus is on the verb agreement systems of signed languages. Again they observe the essential uniformity of the form of agreement systems from one signed language to the next. However, like Diane Lillo-Martin, they also present arguments to suggest that agreement is very definitely part of the grammar of signed languages, inasmuch as signed languages are distinctly not uniform with respect to the syntax of agreement. Some of the most persuasive evidence for this claim comes from a difference amongst signed languages that looks to be parametric: some signed languages (e.g. Brazilian Sign Language and German Sign Language) have auxiliary-like elements that carry agreement, and some languages (e.g. American Sign Language and British Sign Language) do not. Whether a language has auxiliaries that carry agreement when the main verb cannot has consequences for word


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order, for the distribution of negative markers, and for the licensing of null arguments. However, Rathmann and Mathur also adopt something of a compromise position when they assert that the markers of agreement – the loci in space with respect to which agreeing verbs move – are not phonologized. Here they too echo the recent arguments of Liddell (2000). In their view – and in Liddell’s – there is not a listable set of locations with which verbs may agree; this is what Rathmann and Mathur call the “infinity problem.” In other words, the phonology of ASL and of other signed languages does not make a listable set of spatial contrasts available as the markers of agreement. For example, when verbs agree with spatial loci associated with referents that are present in the immediate environment, those locations are determined not by grammar but by the physical locations of those referents. From this, Rathmann and Mathur conclude that the spatial form of agreement is gestural, not phonological. So, in their view, agreement is at once linguistic and gestural. The two remaining chapters – Chapter 16 by Gary Morgan, Neil Smith, Ianthi Tsimpli, and Bencie Woll and Chapter 17 by David Quinto-Pozos – address the use of agreement in special populations. Gary Morgan and his colleagues describe the acquisition of British Sign Language (BSL) by Christopher, an autistic-like adult who shows an extraordinary ability to learn languages, as evidenced by his knowledge (not necessarily complete) of some 20 or so spoken languages. However, paired with his linguistic abilities are, according to Morgan and colleagues, significant impairments in visuo-spatial abilities and in motor co-ordination. Christopher was formally trained in BSL over a period of eight months. His learning of BSL was compared to a control group of hearing, intellectually normal undergraduates. This training was analogous to formal training that he had previously received in Berber, a spoken language (Smith and Tsimpli 1995). In Berber, Christopher showed great enthusiasm, and apparently great success, in figuring out the subject agreement morphology. However, his acquisition of BSL appears to proceed on a different track. Although he succeeded in learning some significant aspects of BSL, including the recall of individual signs, the ability to produce simple sentences, the ability to recognize fingerspelling, and the use of negation, he showed little success in acquiring the classifier morphology of BSL, and his acquisition of verb agreement is more limited than what Morgan and his colleagues would have expected given Christopher’s success in acquiring morphology in spoken languages. Christopher could not, for example, establish locations within the sign space for nonpresent referents. On the authors’ interpretation, Christopher lacked the spatial abilities necessary to acquire the verb agreement and classifier systems of BSL. In their view, the acquisition of certain key aspects of signed languages depends crucially on intact spatial abilities. This conclusion appears to converge with Karen Emmorey’s suggestion

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that different cognitive abilities are implicated in the processing of spatial descriptions in signed languages than in spoken languages. In Chapter 17 David Quinto-Pozos reports a case study of two Deaf-Blind signers in which he compares their use of the sign space to that of two Deaf, sighted signers. Quinto-Pozos asked the participants in his study to memorize a short narrative; each then recited that narrative to each of the other three participants. The sighted participants made great use of the signing space, even when they were addressing a Deaf-Blind subject. In contrast, the Deaf-Blind signers made little use of the spatial devices of ASL. In general, they did not establish locations in space for the characters in their stories, nor did they use points to refer to those characters. Instead, their use of pronominal pointing signs was largely limited to self-reference and to reference to the fictive addressee of dialogue in the story that they were reciting. Even with just two participants, Quinto-Pozos finds interesting differences between the Deaf-Blind signers. For example, one showed frequent use of the signing space with agreeing verbs; the other did not. The two Deaf-Blind signers also differed in how they referred to the characters in their narratives: one used proper names (and did so more frequently than the sighted signers); the other used common nouns or pronouns derived from Signed English. At this point, we do not know the extent to which Quinto-Pozos’s results will generalize to other Deaf-Blind signers. For example, native Deaf-Blind signers – including those who are congenitally blind – might make greater use of the sign space. However, his results raise the possibility that full access to the spatial medium of signed languages may depend on vision. richard p. meier References Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth. 1993. Space in Danish Sign Language. Hamburg: SignumVerlag. Klima, Edward S. and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Liddell, Scott K. 2000. Indicating verbs and pronouns: pointing away from agreement. In The signs of language revisited, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 303–320. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Meier, Richard P. 1990. Person deixis in American Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple, 175–190. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Newport, Elissa L. 1982. Task specificity in language learning? Evidence from speech perception and American Sign Language. In Language acquisition: The state of the art, ed. Eric Wanner and Lila Gleitman, 451–486. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.


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Pinker, Steven and Paul Bloom. 1990. Natural language and natural selection. Behavioral and Brain Sciences 13:707–784. Smith, Neil and Ianthi-Maria Tsimpli. 1995. The mind of a savant. Oxford: Blackwell. Smith, Wayne. 1990. Evidence for auxiliaries in Taiwanese Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan D. Fischer and Patricia Siple. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Supalla, Samuel J. 1991. Manually Coded English: The modality question in signed language development. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 2: Psychology, ed. Patricia Siple and Susan D. Fischer, 85–109. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

13

Pronominal reference in signed and spoken language: Are grammatical categories modality-dependent? Susan Lloyd McBurney

13.1

Introduction

Language in the visual–gestural modality presents a unique opportunity to explore fundamental structures of human language. One of the larger, more complex questions that arises when examining signed languages is the following: how, and to what degree, does the modality of a language affect the structure of that language? In this context, the term “modality” refers to the physical systems underlying the expression of a language; spoken languages are expressed in the aural-oral modality, while signed languages are expressed in the visual–gestural modality. One apparent difference between signed languages and spoken languages relates to the linguistic expression of reference. Because they are expressed in the visual–gestural modality, signed languages are uniquely equipped to convey spatial–relational and referential relationships in a more overt manner than is possible in spoken languages. Given this apparent difference, it is not unreasonable to ask whether systems of pronominal reference in signed languages are structured according to the same principles as those governing pronominal reference in spoken languages. Following this line of inquiry, this typological study explores the grammatical distinctions that are encoded in pronominal reference systems across spoken and signed languages.Using data from a variety of languages representing both modalities, two main questions are addressed. First, are the categories encoded within pronoun systems (e.g. person, number, gender, etc.) the same across languages in the two modalities? Second, within these categories, is the range of distinctions marked governed by similar principles? Because spatial–locational distinctions play such an integral role in pronominal reference across signed languages, I explore in greater depth spatial marking within spoken language pronominal systems. In particular, I examine demonstratives and their use as third person pronominal markers in spoken languages. The structure of the chapter is as follows. In Section 13.2 I present and discuss pronominal data from a range of spoken and signed languages. In Section 13.3 I compare pronominal reference in signed and spoken languages, and discuss 329

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four ways in which signed language pronominal systems are typologically unusual. Section 13.4 examines spatial marking within spoken language pronominal systems, with particular focus on demonstratives. In Section 13.5 I present an analysis of signed language pronominal reference that is based on a distinction between the “modality” and the “medium” of language. Finally, in Section 13.6 I return to the sign language data and discuss the effects of language medium on the categories of person, number, and gender. 13.2

Pronominal systems across signed and spoken languages

There exists a wide range of semantic information that can be encoded in the pronominal systems of the world’s languages. Among the types of information encoded are the following: person, number, gender, distance and proximity, kinship status, social status, case, and tense (Mühlhäusler and Harré 1990). In this chapter I examine personal pronouns (I, you, s/he, etc.) across spoken and signed languages.1 The approach I take focuses on the categories marked within the pronoun systems of languages across the two modalities and on the question of whether the range of distinctions marked within these categories is governed by similar principles. In the context of this discussion, I use the term “category” to refer to the semantic notions of person, number, gender, and so on, while the term “distinction” refers to the distinct markings or values within that category. For example, the pronoun system of a given language might mark a three-way distinction (first, second, third) in the category person. 13.2.1

Typological variation in spoken language pronominal systems

Spoken languages vary in the number and types of semantic contrasts that are encoded in their pronominal systems. For example, the pronominal system of English for the nominative case is shown in Table 13.1.2 In this table we see that English has the common three-way (first, second, third) distinction in the category of person. In the category of number, English distinguishes singular and plural in the first and third persons, but does not mark for number in the second person. Finally, there is a three-way distinction in gender within third person singular only. This type of distinction has been referred to as “natural gender,” whereby all nonhuman referents are neuter, and human referents are either masculine or feminine. 1

2

The present chapter deals specifically with pronouns that refer to particular entities in a discourse; I do not consider either bound pronouns or the tracking of referents in longer stretches of discourse. Although very little work has been done in the area of bound pronouns in ASL (or any other signed language), brief discussions can be found in Lillo-Martin (1986) and LilloMartin and Klima (1990). On the use of space for reference in lengthy narratives involving multiple characters and/or shifts in perspective, see discussions in Meier (1990), Lillo-Martin (1995), and Winston (1995). In this discussion I do not consider distinctions of case within pronominal systems.

Pronominal reference in signed and spoken language

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Table 13.1 English personal pronouns (nominative case) Person

Singular

Plural

1

I

we

2

you

you

3

he she it

they

Asheninca, a pre-Andine Arawakan language spoken in central Peru, encodes few contrasts in the pronoun system (Table 13.2). Like English, Asheninca exhibits a three-way distinction in the category of person. However, the only number distinction present in the personal pronoun system is aaka; because it is an inclusive pronoun (denoting first person and second person), this pronoun form necessarily involves more than one person. Beyond this, number is not part of the pronoun system. Rather, plural is expressed through morphemes that are regular inflections of verb and noun morphology. Gender is marked only in the third person (singular), and the distinction is two-way, masculine and feminine. Slightly more extensive number marking is seen in Nagala, a Ndu language spoken in New Guinea. Table 13.3 presents data from the personal pronouns of Nagala. Here we see three distinctions in number (singular, dual, and plural) carried across all three persons. In addition, Nagala has fairly rich gender marking, in that there is a two-way distinction (masculine/feminine) across all singular forms. Nogogu, an Austronesian language spoken in the Melanesian Islands, has even richer number marking within its personal pronoun system. In Table 13.4 we see a four-way distinction in number (singular, dual, trial, and plural) throughout all three persons, as well as an inclusive/exclusive distinction within the first person. The inclusive form is used when the person addressed is included Table 13.2 Asheninca personal pronoun Person

Singular

More than one

1

naaka (first exclusive)

aaka (first inclusive)

2

eeroka

3

irirori (masculine) iroori (feminine)

Source: Reed and Payne 1986:324

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Table 13.3 Nagala personal pronouns Person

Singular

Dual

Plural

1

wn (m.) n˜ ən (f.)

yn

nan

2

mən (m.) yn (f.)

bən

gwn

3

kər (m.) yn (f.)

(kə) bər

rr

Source: adapted from Laycock 1965, in Mühlhäusler and Harré 1990:83

in the first person plural, and the exclusive form is used otherwise. None of the Nogogu pronouns are marked for gender. Finally, we come to Aranda, an Australian Aboriginal language. Table 13.5 presents partial data from the personal pronouns in Aranda. The Aranda data reveal a three-way distinction in person marking, as well as number marking for dual and plural (singular data were not available). What is most unusual about the Aranda pronominal system is the extensive marking of kinship distinctions. Two major distinctions in kinship are encoded throughout the pronominal system: agnatic vs. non-agnatic (where agnatic denotes an individual related through a line of patrilineal descent) and harmonic vs. disharmonic (where harmonic refers to a person from the same generation or a generation that differs by an even number). Although the data presented above are a miniscule sampling of the world’s languages, this brief survey serves to illustrate two points. First, spoken language pronominal systems vary in the categories marked; some languages mark a small number of categories (Nogogu, for example, marks only person and number), while others encode a wider range of categories (Aranda’s marking for kinship). Second, spoken languages differ in the range of distinctions marked within certain categories; compare, for example, Asheninca (which has a plural Table 13.4 Nogogu personal pronouns Person

Singular

Dual

Trial

Plural

1

(i) nou

omorua orua

omotulu otolu

emam rie

2

i niko

omrua

omtolu

emiu

3

i nikin

rurua

ritolu

i rir, rire

exclusive inclusive

Source: Ray 1926, in Forchheimer 1953:81


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Table 13.5 Aranda personal pronouns Agnatic Number

Harmonic

Disharmonic

Non-Agnatic

Dual 1 2 3

ili-n an-atir il-atir

il-ak mpil-ak al-ak

il-ant mpil-ant al-ant

Plural 1 2 3

un-ar anj-ariy il-ariy

un-aki-ar ar-aki-r in-aki-r

un-anti-r ar-anti-r in-anti-r

Source: Hale 1966, in Mühlhäusler and Harré 1990:165

pronoun only in the first person) and Nogogu (which has four distinctions in number – singular, dual, trial, and plural – across all three persons). 13.2.2

Typological variation in signed language pronominal systems

I begin my discussion of signed language pronominal systems by examining pronouns in American Sign Language (ASL). This is then followed by a presentation and discussion of pronoun systems in five other signed languages. 13.2.2.1 Pronouns in American Sign Language. ASL is a member of the French Sign Language Group (Woodward 1978a; 1978b).3 Like other signed languages, ASL is a visual–gestural language that makes extensive use of space for reference to individuals within a discourse. In this section I present the standard analysis of pronominal reference in ASL (Friedman 1975; Klima and Bellugi 1979; Bellugi and Klima 1982; Padden 1988).4 Figure 13.1 is a two-dimensional representation of signing space as it is used for pronominal reference in ASL. The form of personal pronouns in ASL is an index, or 1 handshape (closed hand with the index finger extended), directed toward a point in space (or locus), one that exists along a chest-level horizontal plane in front of the signer. For first person reference, the index is directed toward the signer’s chest (number 1 in Figure 13.1), while for second person 3

4

Woodward (1978b) identifies four major sign language families, based on hypothesized relationships between sign language varieties. For more detailed discussion of the history of ASL and its relation to French Sign Language, see Lane (1984). To my knowledge, the term “standard analysis” has not been used in the literature. I have chosen to adopt this term here for two reasons: first, it is this analysis of ASL pronominal reference that has been most widely accepted among sign language linguists; and, second, the standard analysis of ASL pronominal reference is most similar in structure to theories of pronominal reference in spoken language. As is discussed in Section 13.6, the standard analysis is not the only analysis of pronominal reference that has been proposed.

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addressee d

2

e ...

c b

1

a

signer Figure 13.1

ASL signing space as used for pronominal reference

reference it is directed out toward a point in front of the addressee’s chest (number 2 in Figure 13.1). For referents that are not physically present in the discourse (i.e. third persons), the index is directed toward a point in the signing space that has been previously associated with that referent. This association of a point in space with a nonpresent referent has been referred to as “nominal establishment” or “localization.” Nonpresent referents can be established in the signing space via a number of localization strategies. One strategy is to sign the name of the referent and then articulate an index toward the point in space at which the referent is being established. For example, a signer might fingerspell or sign the name M-A-R-Y, then articulate an index toward locus ‘a’ (in Figure 13.1). Once this referent, Mary, has been established at locus ‘a,’ further reference to her is through an index directed toward point ‘a.’ Other strategies for establishing a nonpresent referent in the signing space include signing the name of the referent at the referential locus (e.g. signing M-A-R-Y at location ‘a’), and signing the name of the referent then indicating the referential locus with eye gaze (e.g. signing M-A-R-Y and looking at locus ‘a’). In theory, an unlimited number of nonpresent referents can be localized to distinct locations in the signing space (a, b, c, d, e . . . in Figure 13.1). However, it appears that memory and processing constraints limit the number of locations that are actually used within a discourse.5 Whichever strategy is used to establish a nonpresent referent at a location in the signing space, an index directed toward that location is interpreted as a pronoun referring back to that specific referent. These locations in space are 5

I am not aware of any research on specific limitations with respect to spatial locations and pronominal reference in signed languages. However, investigations of general cognitive abilities and the capacity of short term or working memory (Miller 1956) suggest that the limit is somewhere between five and seven units of information.


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Table 13.6 ASL personal pronouns Person 1

inclusive exclusive

Singular

2

3

a,b,c,d . . .

Dual

Trial

Quadruple

Quintruple

Plural

?

?

considered to be part of the grammar of ASL; they form the base of pronominal reference and play a crucial role in conveying person distinctions throughout discourse. The pronominal system of ASL patterns as shown in Table 13.6.6 Looking first to the category of person, we see that the three-way distinction of first, second, and third person exists throughout the pronominal system. Particularly interesting, from a crosslinguistic perspective, is the large number of third person singular pronouns. As was discussed above, nonpresent referents are established (or localized) at distinct locations in the signing space. Since there are an unlimited number of locations in space, it has been argued that there is a potentially infinite number of distinct pronominal forms (Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990). Additionally, because individual referents are associated with distinct locations in the signing space, pronominal reference to single individuals is unambiguous; once Mary has been established at location ‘a,’ an index directed toward location ‘a’ unambiguously identifies Mary as the referent for the duration of the discourse.7 ASL has a very rich system of marking for number in its pronouns. The singular form is an index directed toward a point along the horizontal signing plane, while plural forms have an added arc-shaped, or sweeping, movement. 6

7

Table 13.6 represents an analysis and summary of pronoun forms elicited from one native Deaf signer (a Deaf individual with Deaf parents). Although many of the distinctions represented in this table are commonly known to exist, the distinctions in number marking are ones that exist for this particular signer. Whether distinct number-marking forms are prevalent across signers is a question for further research. There are, in fact, certain circumstances in which reference is not wholly unambiguous. In ASL discourse abstract concepts and physical locations (such as cities) can also be localized in the signing space, usually as a strategy for comparison. For example, a signer might wish to compare her life growing up in Chicago with her experiences as an adult living in New York City. In this instance, Chicago might be localized to the signer’s left (at locus ‘e’ in Figure 13.1) and New York to the signer’s right (at locus ‘b’). In the course of the discourse the signer might also establish a nonpresent referent, her mother perhaps, at locus ‘e’ because her mother lives in Chicago. Consequently, later reference to locus ‘e’ could be argued to be ambiguous, in that an index to that locus could be interpreted as a reference to either the city of Chicago or to the signer’s mother. The correct interpretation is dependent upon the context of the utterance. I thank Karen Emmorey for bringing this exception to my attention.

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In addition to the singular and plural forms, ASL appears to have dual, trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms throughout much of the pronoun system. The trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms are formed by replacing the index handshape with a numeral handshape (the handshape for 3, 4, and 5, respectively), changing the orientation from palm downward to palm upward, and adding a small circular movement. The dual form is formationally distinct from the other forms, in that the handshape that surfaces is distinct from the numeral two; whereas the numeral two has the index and middle fingers extending from an otherwise closed fist, the handshape in the dual form is the K handshape (the thumb is extended and placed between the two fingers, and the middle finger is lowered slightly, so that it is perpendicular to the thumb). The movement in the dual is also distinct from that found in the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms; the K handshape is moved back and forth between the two loci associated with the intended referents. In addition to the number marking, it appears that ASL has an inclusive/ exclusive distinction in the first person. In a study of plural pronouns and the inclusive/exclusive distinction in ASL, Cormier (1998) reports that the exclusive can be marked by displacement of the sign. For example, the general plural WE (which is normally articulated with the index touching two points along a horizontal plane at the center of the chest) can be displaced slightly either to the right or to the left side of the chest. This instance of WE, which Cormier glosses as WE-DISPLACED, is marked as first person exclusive, and is interpreted as [+speaker], [–addressee], and [+non-addressed speech act participant].8 In the pronoun forms summarized in Table 13.6, the exclusive form of WE is marked by displacement of the sign, as well as a slight backward lean of the body. The inclusive and exclusive forms of the dual pronoun are differentiated by whether or not the location of the addressee is indexed in the sign. Cormier reports that for the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms, the locations of the included referents are often, but not always indexed, but displacement of the sign to the side of the chest is always present in the exclusive form. The ASL pronoun forms elicited for this study seem to support this observation. The extensive marking for number evidenced in ASL raises an interesting question: do these forms constitute true grammatical number marking (i.e. number marking that is internal to the pronoun system) or are they the result of an independent morphological process that happens to surface in pronouns? Based upon the limited data that are available, I argue that the dual form is an instance 8

Cormier’s (1998) examination of the inclusive/exclusive distinction in ASL is far more comprehensive than my discussion of it suggests. She develops an analysis of plural pronouns based on a distinction between lexical plurals (including the general plural WE, number incorporated forms 3/4/5-OF-US, the sign A-L-L, as well as the possessive OUR) and indexical plurals (including dual and composite forms, individual indexes to all those included). Whereas indexical plurals index the locations of individual referents, lexical plurals do not.


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of grammatical number marking, while the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms are not. Three facts of ASL support this interpretation. First, in spoken language grammatical number marking, dual and trial forms are, by and large, not etymologically derived from the numerals in the language (Last, in preparation).9 For example, the morpheme that distinguishes a trial form in a given pronominal system is not etymologically derived from the numeral three. In contrast, the morphemes (handshapes) that distinguish the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms in ASL are the very same handshapes that serve as numerals in the language. The handshape in the dual form, however, is distinct from the numeral two. Second, the number handshapes that present within the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms of ASL pronouns are systematically incorporated into a limited number of nonpronominal signs in ASL. This morphological process has been referred to as “numeral incorporation” (Chinchor 1979; Liddell 1996). For example, signs having to do with time (MINUTE, HOUR, DAY, WEEK, MONTH, YEAR) incorporate numeral handshapes to indicate a specific number of time units. The basic form of the sign WEEK is articulated by moving an index, or 1, handshape of the dominant hand (index finger extended from the fist) across the upturned palm of the nondominant hand. The sign THREE-WEEKS is made with a 3 handshape (thumb, index, and middle finger extended from the fist), and the sign for FOUR-WEEKS with the 4 handshape (all four fingers extended from the fist).10 Other signs that can take numeral incorporation include EXACT-AGE, APPROXIMATE-AGE, EXACT-TIME, DOLLAR-AMOUNT, and HEIGHT. Numeral incorporation is clearly a productive (though limited) morphological process, one that surfaces in several areas of the language. Significantly, the handshape for the numeral two (as opposed to the K handshape that surfaces in the dual pronominal form) is also involved in this productive morphological process. Thus, the data available suggest that the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms that surface in parts of the pronominal system are instances of numeral incorporation, not grammatical number marking. The final argument for treating trial, quadruple, and quintuple number marking in ASL as something other than grammatical number marking has to do with obligatoriness. Last (personal communication) suggests that in order to be considered grammatical number marking, the marking of a particular number distinction within a pronominal system has to exhibit some degree of obligatoriness. Whereas the dual form appears to be obligatory in most contexts (and 9

10

Greville Corbett (personal communication) notes some exceptions in a number of Austronesian languages, where forms indicating ‘we-three’ and ‘we-four’ appear to be etymologically related to numerals. The handshapes that can be incorporated into these signs appear to be limited to numerals ‘1’ through ‘9’. While the number signs for ‘1’ through ‘9’ are static, the signs for numbers ‘10’ and above have an internal (nonpath) movement component. These numbers cannot be incorporated because the resulting sign forms would violate phonological constraints in the language (Liddell et al. 1985).

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therefore can be considered an instance of grammatical number marking), it does not appear that the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms are obligatory. In other words, the general plural form might be used in certain instances instead of one of these specific number-marking forms. For example, Baker and Cokely (1980:208) comment that “if the signer wants to refer to a group of people (three or more) without emphasizing each individual, the Signer can use the ‘1’ handshape an ‘draw’ an arc that includes all the people the Signer wants to talk about.”11 Before leaving this topic, however, one additional point deserves consideration, one that relates to proposed crosslinguistic universals. Ingram (1978) has proposed a “universal constraint” on systems of number, whereby languages fall into one of three categories based on the number of distinctions marked: r one, more-than-one; r one, two, more-than-two; and r one, two, three, more-than-three. If the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms of numeral incorporation within the pronoun system of ASL are interpreted as grammatical number marking, then the ASL data would have to be characterized as marking a greater range of distinctions than has been found in spoken languages (one, two, three, four, five, more-than-five). ASL would thus be in violation of proposed universal systems of number. Of course one should not allow theory to dictate interpretation of the data; if the ASL data showed clear evidence of being true grammatical number marking, then the universal status of the constraint proposed by Ingram would be significantly weakened. However, as the discussion above illustrates, there is reason to believe that certain aspects of the number marking (trial, quadruple, quintuple) are not part of grammatical number. 13.2.2.2 Pronominal reference in other signed languages. In this section I examine pronominal reference in five other signed languages. The languages considered are Italian Sign Language (Lingua Italiana del Segni or LIS) (Pizzuto 1986; Pizzuto, Giurana, and Gambino 1990), Australian Sign Language, or Auslan (Johnston 1991; 1998), Danish Sign Language (dansk tegnsprog or DSL) (Engberg-Pedersen 1986; 1993), Indo-Pakistani Sign Language, or IPSL (Vasishta, Woodward, and Wilson 1978; Zeshan 1998; 1999; personal communication), and Japanese Sign Language (Nihon Syuwa or NS) (Fischer 1996; Supalla and Osugi, unpublished). These five languages represent at least three distinct sign language families: the French Sign Language 11

An additional factor that may be related to the optionality of the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms has to do with articulatory constraints. If a signer wishes to use a trial form (meaning the three of them), this form might only be possible if the loci associated with the three referents are adjacent to each other. For example, if the three referents have been localized at ‘a,’ ‘c,’ and ‘e’ (see Figure 13.1) it would be impossible to articulate a trial form that could specify which referents were included and exclude those that were not. In such circumstances, the plural marking of a pronoun pushes the system in less-indexic directions.


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Table 13.7 Person distinctions across signed languages ASL

LIS

Auslan

DSL

IPSL

NS

1 2 3. . .

1 2 3. . .

1 2 3. . .

1 non 1

1 2 3. . .

1 2 3. . .

Group (LIS and DSL), the British Sign Language Group (Auslan), and the Asian Sign Language Group (NS) (Woodward 1978b). Although the precise historical affiliation of Indo-Pakistani Sign Language (IPSL) is at present unknown, evidence suggests IPSL is not related to any European signed languages (Vasishta, Woodward, and Wilson 1978).12 Rather than summarize data from each signed language separately, I examine each individual category (person, number, gender) in turn. To facilitate comparison, I also include the data from ASL. I begin with an examination of person distinctions (Table 13.7). All but one of the signed languages analyzed here utilize an index (or some highly similar handshape, such as a lax index) directed toward the signer or the addressee to indicate first and second person, respectively. DSL has forms that directly correspond to these first and second person pronouns, but Engberg-Pedersen (1993) argues for a distinction between first person and nonfirst person (discussed below).13 Whether or not a second/third person distinction exists, all signed languages considered here use strategies similar to those used in ASL to establish (or localize) nonpresent referents along a horizontal plane in the signing space.14 In addition, all signed languages appear to allow a theoretically unlimited number of third person (or nonfirst person) pronouns and, because individual referents are associated with distinct loci in the signing space, reference to individuals is unambiguous. The number distinctions in these signed languages pattern as shown in Table 13.8.15 LIS, Auslan, and DSL all have a singular/plural distinction similar 12

13 14

15

To an even greater extent than is true with ASL, the data available on pronouns in these signed languages is incomplete. Consequently, there are gaps in the data I present and discuss. In addition, relatively little is known concerning the historical relationships between signed languages outside the French and British Sign Language Groups. Like Engberg-Pedersen, Meier (1990) argues for a first/nonfirst distinction in ASL pronouns. His analysis is also discussed below. Zeshan (1998) points out that in IPSL, for some referents it is required or possible to localize referents in the upper signing space, as opposed to along the horizontal plane. The upper signing space is used for place names, and can be used for entities that have been invested with some degree of authority as well as referents that are physically remote from the signer (for example, in a telephone conversation). In Table 13.8 I have included all information that is available in the literature, including data covering dual, trial, and quadruple forms in DSL and Auslan. Based on available data, I am not able to comment on whether or not these forms constitute grammatical number or rather are instances of numeral incorporation, as I have argued is the case for ASL.

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Table 13.8 Number distinctions across signed languages ASL

LIS

Auslan

DSL

IPSL

NS

singular plural 2,3,4,5

singular plural ?

singular plural 2,3,4

singular plural 2,3,4

transnumeral dual (inclusive/exclusive) nonspecific plural

?

to that present in ASL, where the plural form is marked by an arc-shaped movement. In addition, Auslan and DSL appear to have dual, trial, and quadruple forms as well (the sources available for LIS did not mention these distinctions). No number-marking data were available for NS. Number marking in IPSL is, in certain respects, distinct from number marking in the other signed languages considered here. Zeshan (1999; personal communication) reports that IPSL has a transnumeral form that is unspecified for number. In other words, a single point with an index finger can refer to any number of entities; it is the context of the discourse that determines whether singular or plural reference is intended. This is true not only for second and third person reference, but for first person reference as well. IPSL also has a dual form (handshape with middle and index finger extended, moving between two points of reference) that can mark for “inclusive/exclusive-like” distinctions. In addition, IPSL has a “nonspecific plural” (a half-circle horizontal movement) that refers to an indefinite number of persons exclusively (not used with nonhuman entities). Finally, gender marking across these signed languages patterns as shown in Table 13.9. Only one of the six signed languages considered here has (possibly) morphological marking for gender; as the discussion below reveals, it is not clear whether this gender marking is in fact an integral component of the pronominal system. Japanese and other Asian signed languages (Taiwan Sign Language; see Smith 1990) are unique in that they use classifier handshapes to mark gender in certain classes of signs. In NS a closed fist with the thumb extended upward Table 13.9 Gender distinctions across signed languages ASL

LIS

Auslan

DSL

IPSL

–

–

–

–

–

NS ??? male female (optional?)


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represents ‘male,’ while the same fist with the pinkie finger extended represents ‘female.’ Fischer and Osugi (2000) point out that the male and female handshapes are borrowed directly from Japanese culture, but that the use of these handshapes in NS appears to be completely grammaticized. Supalla and Osugi (unpublished) report that these gender handshapes are used in four morphosyntactic paradigms: r nominal lexemes referring to humans, where a combination of the two gender handshapes refers to ‘couple’; r classifier predicate constructions, where a verb of motion or location incorporates the masculine gender handshape to represent any animate entity; r kinship lexemes, where the handshape marks the gender of the referent, and placement in relation to other articulators denotes the familial status, as in ‘daughter’; and r inflectional morphemes incorporated into agreement verb constructions, where a gender handshape can mark the gender of the subject or object. Fischer (1996) reports that, in addition to co-occurring with verb agreement, gender marking can co-occur with pronominal indexes. She gives only the following example: (1)

MOTHERa COOK CAN INDEXa-1 ‘Mother can cook, she can.’

(INDEXa-1 simultaneously indicates gender and location). In (1) subscript letters indicate spatial locations, while the subscript number ‘1’ indicates the female gender handshape. Fischer (personal communication) comments that most often the gender handshape is articulated on the nondominant hand, with the dominant hand index pointing to it. Less common is a form where the gender handshape is incorporated into the pronoun itself; in example (1) the female gender handshape ‘1’ would be articulated at location ‘a.’ It is not clear what restrictions apply to the use of gender handshapes within the pronominal system (for example, can they be used across all three person distinctions?), nor is it clear whether or not this gender marking is a required component of a well-formed pronoun.16 13.3

Pronominal reference in signed languages: Typological considerations

Having examined pronominal systems in a range of spoken and signed languages, we are now in a position to make some typological observations. In this 16

Daisuke Sasaki (personal communication) thinks gender marking in NS pronouns is optional. If gender marking is, in fact, optional, this would suggest that it is not grammatical gender marking, but rather a productive morphological process at work (optionally) in parts of the pronoun system. See discussion of number marking in Section 13.2.2.1.

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section I discuss four such observations, and go on to discuss what might be at the core of the differences between pronominal reference in spoken and signed languages. 13.3.1

Typological homogeneity

Despite the fact that the signed languages analyzed here represent several language families, there appears to be a tremendous amount of uniformity across signed languages in the way pronominal reference is structured. One aspect of the phonological form of personal pronouns, the index handshape, is either identical across languages, or is very closely related.17 As for location, first and second person reference is virtually identical across the signed languages considered here, and all of the signed languages reviewed use locations in the signing space for reference to nonpresent individuals.18 Through strategies of nominal establishment (or localization) that are similar across languages, nonpresent referents are established (or localized) at distinct locations in the signing space, and further reference to an individual within a given discourse is through an index to the specific location with which she or he has been associated. 13.3.2

Morphophonological exclusivity

In signed languages, locations in space seem to be reserved for referential purposes (pronouns and verbal agreement markers).19 In other words, there exists a particular subset of phonemes (locations in space) that are used for reference, as person markers within the pronoun and verbal agreement systems. The locations in space at which referents are established are lexically noncontrastive; 17

18

19

While the phonological form of personal pronouns is highly similar across signed languages, this is not true in the case of possessive and reflexive pronouns. Although locations in space are still used, there appears to be considerable variation in handshape among languages in the possessives and reflexives. Japanese Sign Language appears to have two forms of the first person; one form contacts the chest and a second form contacts the nose of the signer (a gesture that is borrowed from Japanese hearing culture). Similarly, Farnell (1995) notes that in Plains Indian Sign Language reference to self sometimes takes the form of an index finger touching the nose. This is, in fact, an oversimplification. Locations in the signing space are also used in classifier constructions, where specific handshapes (classifiers) are combined with location, orientation, movement, and nonmanual signals to form a predicate (Supalla 1982; 1986). For example, the English sentence The person walked by might be signed in ASL by articulating the person classifier (a 1 handshape, upright orientation) and moving it from right to left across the signing space. In these constructions the use of space is not lexical, but rather topographic. The relationship between locations in space is three-dimensional; there exists a one-to-one correspondence between the elements of the classifier predicate and what they represent in the real world. For a discussion of the topographic use of space, see Emmorey (this volume). In terms of morphophonological exclusivity, my claim is that when space is used lexically (as opposed to topographically), locations in space seem to be reserved for referential purposes.


343

Table 13.10 Possible analogously structured system of pronominal reference Nominal establishment

Pronominal reference

Signed language

Proper name

+

index to [locationα ]

index to [locationα ]

=

unambiguous reference

Spoken language

Proper name

+

pronominal root + [phonemeα ]

pronominal root + [phonemeα ]

=

unambiguous reference

there are no minimal pairs that are distinguished solely by spatial location.20 To my knowledge, there are no spoken languages that pattern this way, where a particular subset of phonemes is used exclusively for a specific morphological purpose, such as pronominal reference. 13.3.3

Morphological paradigm

The structure of pronominal paradigms in signed languages is highly unusual from a crosslinguistic perspective. One could imagine a spoken language with a pronominal system structured in a way that is analogous to what we see across signed language pronominal systems. A schematic diagram of such a system might look as shown in Table 13.10. This hypothetical spoken language might establish nominals in a discourse in the following manner: the speaker utters a proper name (‘Mary’) and then utters a series of two phonemes; the first (let’s say /t/) serves as the pronominal root, the second (let’s say /i/) as a ‘person marker’ that, through a one-to-one association, uniquely identifies the nonpresent referent Mary. For the remainder of the discourse, reference back to Mary would be through uttering /ti/. For example, the speaker might say ‘I like /ti/,’ which would be interpreted as meaning ‘I like Mary.’ Each time the word /ti/ is uttered, Mary is unambiguously referred to. A pronominal system thus structured is unattested in spoken language.21 20

21

Liddell (2000b) makes this point in a recent publication, but notes one exception: the signs GOAL and POINT. Both are two-handed signs; in both the nonmoving (nondominant) hand has a 1 handshape with the finger pointing upward, and the moving (dominant) hand, also a 1 handshape, is directed toward the tip of the nondominant hand finger. Liddell notes that what distinguishes these two signs is the placement of the stationary hand; when articulated at the level of the forehead, the sign is GOAL, but when articulated at the level of the abdomen, the sign is POINT. Although locations in the signing space appear to be lexically contrastive here, it is worth noting that these two signs are distinctly articulated with respect to the relative vertical position of the nondominant hand, rather than with respect to different locations within the horizontal signing plane. There are no two signs in ASL that differ only in location along a horizontal signing plane. In legal and mathematical texts, however, variables are used in a manner that approaches similarity to sign language pronominal paradigms. For example, “If a person x steals something

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13.3.4

Referential specificity

The pronominal systems in signed languages exhibit a high degree of “referential specificity.” I am defining referential specificity as the degree to which full referential information is recoverable from the morphology. The location component of singular pronouns (in all signed languages studied to date) allows for complete and unambiguous identification of referents within a discourse. As a result, the relationship between form and meaning (referent) is non-arbitrary. Indeed, signed and spoken languages appear to differ in their capacity for encoding referential information in pronouns. In an attempt to characterize this difference, one could posit a continuum of referential specificity (shown in Figure 13.2). A language like Asheninca, which marks minimal contrasts in the pronoun system, would fall to the left of a language like Nagala, which has more extensive marking for both number and gender. Nagala, in turn, might fall to the left of a language like Aranda, which, in addition to marking for increased number distinctions, also has a rich system of marking for kinship. Evaluating pronominal systems in this way, signed languages would fall far to the right of spoken languages; because the location component of pronouns allows for complete and unambiguous reference, signed language pronouns have an extremely high degree of referential specificity. Furthermore, because pronominal systems across signed languages are structured so similarly, signed languages would cluster together at the high end of the continuum. If gender marking in NS turns out to be an integral component of the pronominal paradigm, then perhaps NS would fall slightly more to the right. Critical evaluation of the proposed continuum in Figure 13.2 raises the following question: is this, in fact, a continuum? With respect to referential specificity, is the difference between spoken language pronoun systems and signed language pronoun systems a difference of degree, or is it rather a difference of kind? In Section 13.4 I address this question and argue for the latter by examining spatial marking in signed and spoken language pronoun systems. 13.4

Spatial marking in pronominal systems

We have seen that pronominal reference in signed languages is highly uniform (typologically homogeneous) and, at the same time, highly unusual from a crosslinguistic (crossmodality) perspective. What underlies this difference between signed and spoken languages is the use of spatial marking for referential purposes. from a person y, and x sells it to a person z, then z is not obliged to give it back to y.” I thank an anonymous reviewer for bringing this to my attention. Also, Aronoff, Meir and Sandler (2000) discuss a small number of spoken languages that have verbal agreement systems similar in structure to the hypothetical system discussed in Table 13.10.


English

Nagala Nogogu

Asheninca

IPSL ISL

Aranda

345

Auslan DSL

ASL

NS

? LOW DEGREE

HIGH DEGREE

SPOKEN LANGUAGES

SIGNED LANGUAGES

Figure 13.2

Continuum of referential specificity

In this section I examine spatial marking in pronominal systems and focus on two questions. First, how is spatial marking used in spoken language pronouns? Second, can spatial marking, as it is used in signed language pronominal reference, be accounted for within a framework based on grammatical distinctions? 13.4.1

Spatial marking in spoken language pronominal systems

Spatial–locational information can be conveyed through several different grammatical markers, among them locative adverbs, prepositions, and demonstratives. Here I focus on demonstratives, as they interact most directly with reference in natural language. Two characteristics of demonstratives make them particularly relevant to the issues at hand: first, demonstratives have deictic features that serve to indicate the location of the referent in the speech situation; and, second, demonstratives are frequently a source of third person pronouns, through a process of grammaticalization.22 13.4.1.1 Demonstrative pronouns in spoken language. Diessel (1999: 36) writes that: all languages have at least two demonstratives locating the referent at two different points on a distance scale: a proximal demonstrative referring to an entity near the deictic center, and a distal demonstrative indicating a referent that is located at some distance to the deictic center. 22

Diessel (1999:35–36) defines deictic expressions as “linguistic elements whose interpretation makes crucial reference to some aspect of the speech situation.” He goes on to note that deictic expressions can be divided into three semantic categories: person deictics (I and you; speech participants), place deictics (objects, locations, or persons apart from speech participants), and time deictics (which indicate a temporal reference point relative to the speech event). It is place (or spatial) deictics that are the focus of the present discussion.

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Table 13.11 English demonstrative pronouns this that

(proximal) (distal)

The deictic center (also referred to as the origo) is most often associated with the location of the speaker. Table 13.11 shows the two-term deictic distinction found in English demonstrative pronouns. 23 Here, the proximal form this refers to an entity near the speaker, while the distal form that refers to an entity that is at a distance from the speaker. In contrast to the two-way distinction found in English, many languages have three basic demonstratives. In such languages, the first term denotes an entity that is close to the speaker, while the third term represents an entity that is remote relative to the space occupied by speaker and addressee. As Anderson and Keenan (1985) note, three-term systems differ in the interpretation given to the middle term. Take, for example, the following demonstrative forms, found in Quechua, an Amerindian language spoken in central Peru (Table 13.12). The type of three-way distinction evidenced in Quechua has been characterized as “distance-oriented,” in that the middle term refers to a location that is a medial distance relative to the deictic center (or speaker) (Anderson and Keenan 1985:282–286). In contrast to the distance-oriented distinctions encoded in Quechua (Table 13.12), we have the following system in Pangasinan, an Austronesian language spoken in the Philippines (Table 13.13). The three-term deictic system in Pangasinan is “person-oriented”; in this system the middle term denotes a referent that is close to the hearer (as opposed to a medial distance relative to the speaker). The demonstrative pronoun system of Khasi, an Austro-Asiatic language spoken in India and Bangladesh, patterns as shown in Table 13.14. The demonstrative system in Khasi is based on six demonstrative roots, which are paired with personal pronouns, u ‘he’ and ka ‘she.’ Three of the demonstratives locate the referent on a distance scale (proximal, medial, distal). Khasi demonstrative pronouns encode two additional deictic dimensions: visibility (ta ‘invisible’) and elevation (tey ‘up’, thie ‘down’). The elevation dimension indicates whether the referent is at a higher or lower elevation relative to the deictic center, or speaker. 13.4.1.2 Grammaticalization of pronominal demonstratives in spoken language. In the previous section we examined spatial deixis in spoken 23

In this section I discuss only singular demonstrative forms.


347

Table 13.12 Quechua demonstrative pronouns kay chay taqay

‘this (one)/here’ (proximal) ‘that (one)/there’ (medial) ‘that (one)/over there’ (distal)

Source: Weber 1986:336

languages and saw a range of spatial distinctions encoded across demonstratives. In contrast to what is seen above, the spatial marking in signed languages exists directly within the personal, as opposed to the demonstrative, pronoun system. In order to understand the extent to which the spatial marking of signed languages can be accounted for within a framework based on grammatical distinctions, we must look at the ways in which spatial marking surfaces within the personal pronoun systems of spoken languages. In many spoken languages, demonstratives undergo diachronic change and develop into grammatical markers such as relative pronouns, complementizers, sentence connectives, and possessives (Diessel 1999). Of particular interest here are languages in which pronominal demonstratives develop into third person pronominal markers. For example, Lak, a northeast Caucasian language spoken in southern Daghestan, has the demonstrative base forms shown in Table 13.15. This system of demonstrative marking is similar to that found in Khasi (Table 13.14) in that it encodes a distinction based on elevation. What is interesting about Lak is that these demonstrative base forms interact with the personal pronoun system. The personal pronouns of Lak are limited to the first and second person. There is no independent pronominal form representing a third person distinction; rather any of the five deictics can function as third person pronouns. Thus, the personal pronouns of Lak pattern as shown in Table 13.16. In Lak the third person pronouns are grammaticalized demonstratives and, as such, are spatially marked; there are five separate forms that can be used to refer to a third person, and the choice of form is determined by the spatial location of the referent itself. Bella Bella, a Salishan language spoken in British Columbia, is another language in which demonstratives have grammaticalized and are used as third Table 13.13 Pangasinan demonstrative pronouns (i)yá (i)tán (i)mán Source: Benton 1971:88

near speaker near hearer away from speaker and hearer

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Table 13.14 Khasi demonstrative pronouns

Proximal Medial (near hearer) Distal Up Down Invisible

Masculine singular (u ‘he’)

Feminine singular (ka ‘she’)

u-ne u-to u-tay u-tey u-thie u-ta

ka-ne ka-to ka-tay ka-tey ka-thie ka-ta

Source: adapted from Nagaraja 1985, Rabel 1961, in Diessel 1999:43

person pronouns. Similar to Lak, Bella Bella has independent forms for first and second person pronouns, but recruits the demonstrative forms to serve as third person pronouns. The forms shown in Table 13.17 can all be used as third person pronouns. Thus, third person pronouns in Bella Bella have a seven-fold distinction that relies on proximity to speaker, hearer, and other, as well as visibility and presence. Although only two languages have been discussed here, there are many others that utilize demonstrative (spatially deictic) pronouns for third person reference. Several languages of the Pacific Northwest (for example Northern Wakashan) mark a variety of spatial categories in the third person. Additionally, many Indo-Aryan languages (Sinhala and Hindi among them) utilize demonstratives as third person pronominal forms. 13.4.2

Spatial marking: Spoken and signed languages compared

Having examined data from demonstrative systems across the two modalities, we are now in a position to draw some comparisons between spatial marking in spoken and signed languages. The discussion here focuses on two distinct questions. First, what is the range of spatial distinctions marked in languages of the two modalities? Second, what role does spatial marking play within spoken and signed languages? Table 13.15 Lak demonstrative base forms va mu ta ga ka . Source: Friedman 1994:79

‘near to speaker’ ‘near to addressee’ ‘distant from both, neutral’ ‘below speaker’ ‘above speaker’


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Table 13.16 Lak personal pronouns na ina va mu ta ga ka .

1st person pronoun 2nd person pronoun near to speaker near to addressee 3rd distant from both below speaker above speaker

Source: adapted from Friedman 1994:79–80

The range of spatial distinctions marked within spoken language reference systems, while it is to some degree varied, is in principle limited. In the languages examined here, the range of spatial distinctions marked was between two (English) and seven (Bella Bella). While there may in fact be languages that distinguish more that seven spatial markings, the number of spatial distinctions that function within systems of pronominal reference is going to be limited. Signed languages, on the other hand, exhibit an unlimited number of spatial distinctions within their pronoun systems. There are an unlimited number of locations in the signing space, all of which can be used as a locus for establishing a referent in space (Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990). In practice, of course, the number of locations actually used within a given discourse is limited. These limitations are, however, not imposed by the grammar of the language, but rather are due to articulatory and perceptual factors. The role that spatial marking plays within pronominal systems of individual spoken languages varies. Some languages (for example English) use spatial marking only within the demonstrative pronouns, while others (Lak and Bella Bella) use spatial marking throughout the third person pronouns as well. In either case, spatial marking in spoken languages appears to be restricted to Table 13.17 Bella Bella third person pronouns gj aqu qauqu qequ gj atsqu qauxtsqu qetsqu qkj equ

near first person (visible) near second person (visible) near third person (visible) near first person (invisible) near second person (invisible) near third person (invisible) removed from presence

Source: adapted from Boas 1947:296–297

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demonstrative pronouns and, in some languages, grammaticalized demonstratives that function as third person pronouns. Unlike spoken languages, spatial marking is prevalent throughout all signed language pronominal systems that have been studied to date. Additionally, there is minimal variation between signed languages in the way they use space for referential purposes. Whereas in spoken languages marking for spatial location is restricted to demonstratives and grammaticalized third person pronouns, in signed languages spatial marking is present throughout the entire pronominal system. In ASL, for example, locations in the signing space are utilized within the possessive, reflexive, and reciprocal pronoun constructions in addition to being used in the personal pronouns. As is the case with personal pronouns, the location component of these structures allows for unambiguous reference. Furthermore, spatial marking is an integral part of the verbal agreement system in all signed languages. Once referents have been established at locations in the signing space, those verbs that require subject and object agreement (agreement verbs; Padden 1988) are articulated between these locations. For example, with the agreement verb ASK: 1 ASK2 would be interpreted as ‘I ask you,’ while 1 ASKa would be interpreted as ‘I asked (specific individual associated with locus a).’ One additional difference between spatial marking in spoken and signed languages has to do with the structure of the spatial deictic system itself. As was discussed in Section 13.4.1.1, languages that have a three-term distinction differ in the interpretation given to their middle terms; some are distance-oriented, while others are person-oriented (Anderson and Keenan 1985). The spatial marking that is present in signed languages does not seem to fit neatly into either of these two categories; rather, spatial marking in signed languages is based on absolute locations within the signing space. In an early publication, Siple (1982:315) writes: “Those differences between spoken and signed language which are purported to occur will be seen to be more quantitative than qualitative.” The results from the present typological study contradict this claim. I would argue that spatial marking within signed language pronoun systems is qualitatively different from what we see in spoken language pronoun systems. In Section 13.5 I explore this difference and propose a framework that will help us characterize the unusual aspects of sign language pronominal reference. 13.5

The modality/medium distinction

In Section 13.1 one of the questions posed was the following: how, and to what degree, does the modality of a language affect the structure of that language? This question has been a topic of discussion for as long as signed languages have


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been a focus of linguistic research. While modality effects have received a great deal of attention in the literature, the distinction between modality and medium has not. In an attempt to provide a principled account for the differences between pronominal reference in spoken and signed languages, I propose a preliminary analysis that relies on a distinction between the modality of a language and the medium of a language. The “modality” of a language can be defined as the physical or biological systems of transmission on which the phonetics of a language relies. There are separate systems for production and perception. For spoken languages, production relies upon the vocal system, while perception relies on the auditory system. Spoken languages can be categorized, then, as being expressed in the vocal-auditory modality. Signed languages, on the other hand, rely on the gestural system for production and the visual system for perception. As such, signed languages are expressed in the visual–gestural modality. The “medium” of a language I define as the channel (or channels) through which a language is conveyed. More specifically, channel refers to the dimensions of space and time that are available to a given language. Defined as such, I suggest that the medium of spoken languages is “time,” which in turn can be defined as “a nonspatial continuum, measured in terms of events that succeed one another.”24 Indeed, all spoken languages unfold in time; speech segments, morphemes, and words follow one another, and the order in which they appear is temporally constrained. This is not to say that all aspects of spoken language are entirely segmental in nature. Autosegmental approaches to phonology (in which tiers comprised of linear arrangements of discrete segments are co-articulated) have proven essential in accounting for certain phonological phenomena (tone spreading and vowel harmony among them). However, the temporal character of spoken languages is paramount, while “spatial” relations play no role (by this I mean the segments of spoken languages have no inherent spatial–relational value).25 Whereas spoken languages are limited to the temporal medium, signed languages are able to utilize an additional medium, that of “space”: “a boundless, three-dimensional extent in which objects occur and have relative position and direction.” It is certainly not the case that signed languages exist apart from time; like spoken languages, the signs of signed languages are temporally ordered. Additionally, although much of sign language phonology has been argued to 24 25

The definitions of time and space are taken from Webster’s online dictionary: www.m-w.com In their paper on the evolution of the human language faculty, Pinker and Bloom (1990:712) discuss the vocal-auditory channel and argue that “language shows signs of design for the communication of propositional structures over a serial channel.” Although their use of the term “channel” seems to cover both modality and medium (as defined in the present chapter), their observations seem to fall in line with the observations made here.

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be simultaneous (in the sense that the components of a sign – handshape, location, movement, orientation, and nonmanual features – are simultaneously articulated), research suggests that linear segments do exist, and that the ordering of these segments is an important aspect of phonological structure (for an overview, see Corina and Sandler 1993). Nevertheless, signed languages are unique in that they have access to the three dimensions of space; thus, the medium of signed languages is space and time. Significantly, it is the spatial medium, a medium not available to spoken languages, that affords a radically increased potential for representing spatial relationships in an overt manner.26 Returning to the question of pronominal reference, the fact that signed languages are expressed through the visual–gestural modality does not preclude a fully abstract, grammatical system of reference. Signed languages could have developed systems of reference that utilize the modality-determined abstract building blocks that are part of the language (handshapes, locations on the body, internal movements, etc.) without using space. Instead of localizing referents at distinct locations in the signing space, reference might look something like (2). (2)

Possible sign language pronoun system M-A-R-Y [F handshape to left shoulder], B-I-L-L [F handshape to chest] [F handshape to left shoulder] LIKE [F handshape to chest] ‘Mary likes Bill.’

In principle, there is no reason this kind of system for referring to individuals in the discourse would not work. However, there are no known natural signed languages that are structured this way; all natural signed languages take full advantage of the spatial medium to refer to referents within a discourse. There are, in fact, artificial sign systems that do not use space, or use it in a very restricted manner. One example is Signing Exact English (SEE 2), an English-based system of manual communication developed by hearing educators to provide deaf students with visible, manual equivalents of English words and affixes. For a discussion of the acquisition of these artificial sign systems and the ways in which Deaf children adapt them, see Supalla and McKee (this volume). 27 The fact that deaf children learning artificial sign systems spontaneously use space in ways that are characteristic of ASL and other natural signed languages is strong support for the extent to which space is an essential and defining feature of signed languages (Supalla 1991). 26

27

One area in which we see this potential fully exploited is the classifier systems of signed languages. See footnote 19 for a brief description of the way in which classifiers utilize space. For an overview of classifier predicates in ASL, see Supalla (1986). See also Quinto-Pozos (this volume) for a discussion of the more limited use of space by Deaf-Blind signers; it appears that the tactile-gestural modality to which Deaf-Blind signers are limited provides a more limited access to the medium of space.


13.6

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Sign language pronouns revisited

Acknowledging the distinction between the modality of language and the medium of language helps clarify certain aspects of pronominal reference in signed languages. In particular, by viewing reference in signed languages as mediumdriven, the typologically unusual aspects of signed language pronominal systems receive some explanation. Each of the typological considerations discussed in Section 13.3 (typological homogeneity, morphophonological exclusivity, morphological paradigm, and referential specificity) has its roots in space and the way it is used in signed language reference. While an understanding of language medium helps clarify why reference in signed languages is different, it does little to explain exactly how it is different. In other words, what is the precise nature of this difference, and what impact does this difference have on the formal structure of the language? I address these issues by returning to the questions posed at the beginning of this chapter: are the categories encoded within pronoun systems (e.g. person, number, gender, etc.) the same across languages in the two modalities, and within these categories, is the range of distinctions marked governed by similar principles? In this section I argue that the category number is lexically marked in sign language pronoun systems, but that the category of person is not. I also discuss gender marking in sign language pronominal systems and suggest some possible explanations for the fact that the category of gender does not appear to be an integral component of any signed language pronominal system.

13.6.1

Number marking in signed language pronominal systems

As the data in Section 13.2.2 illustrate, number appears to be a category that is formally (i.e. grammatically) marked in signed language pronominal systems. Two sets of facts support a grammatical analysis of number marking in sign language pronouns. First, the distinctions that are marked within the category of number are similar to those marked in spoken language pronominal systems (singular, plural, dual, inclusive/exclusive). Within the majority of signed language pronoun systems, the distinction between singular and plural is consistently carried by modulating the movement of the index (adding an arc-shaped movement). This arc-shaped movement is a movement feature that surfaces in other lexical items, for example, in the ASL signs COMMITTEE and POWER. The exception to this is IPSL, where the distinction between singular and plural is formationally neutralized in most contexts; the transnumeral form (index directed toward a point in space) is unspecified for number, and is interpreted as either singular or plural based on the context of the utterance. While IPSL is clearly the exception (no other signed languages studied have patterned this way), the transnumeral form does constitute variation. Thus, with

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respect to whether and how the singular/plural distinction is marked, we see at least some variation among signed languages.28 A second fact that argues for number marking in signed languages has to do with the dual form, at least as it exists in ASL. As discussed in Section 13.2.2.1, there is evidence to suggest that number distinctions within ASL pronouns are constrained in ways that are similar to spoken languages. The dual form of the personal pronoun (WE-TWO/INCLUSIVE, WE-TWO/EXCLUSIVE, YOUTWO, THOSE-TWO, etc.) appears to be consistent and mandatory throughout the system. While the trial, quadruple, and quintuple forms are used in some situations, I have argued that they are not grammatical number marking but rather are instances of numeral incorporation and are fully componential in their morphology. Distinguishing between the dual as grammatical number marking and the other forms as existing outside the core of the pronominal system results in ASL conforming to the universal systems of number proposed by Ingram (see discussion in Section 13.2.2.1). Thus, we see in ASL (and potentially other signed languages) a system of number marking that is constrained in ways that are similar to spoken language. 13.6.2

Person marking in sign language pronominal systems

Do signed languages systematically encode a distinction with respect to person? This issue has received considerable attention of late (for discussion, see Meier 1990) and analyses fall at various points along a continuum of distinctions that are marked.29 At one end are those who argue that there are no person distinctions (Ahlgren 1990; Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990). Moving along the continuum, Meier (1990) and Engberg-Pedersen (1993) argue for a grammatical distinction between first and nonfirst person, while the standard analysis (Friedman 1975 and others) suggests a three-way distinction: first, second, and third. Finally, representing the other end of the continuum, Neidle et al. (2000) argue that nonfirst person can be subdivided into many distinct persons. The use of space for referential purposes, they write, “allows for finer person distinctions than are traditionally made in languages that distinguish grammatically only among first, second, and third person” (p.36). The wide range of analyses set forth to explain person distinctions is, I believe, a reflection of the complex and (crossmodally) typologically unusual nature of sign language pronominals. The high degree of referential specificity 28 29

Indeed, as the number of signed languages studied increases, it is quite likely that other types of variation in number marking will be found. Although my comments are framed with respect to person distinctions in ASL, the typological homogeneity that characterizes pronominal reference across signed languages makes it possible to extend the analysis to other signed languages. Where appropriate, I have included references to works on other signed languages.


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(the unambiguous reference that the medium, space, allows) makes the application of standard models of person distinction challenging, if not potentially problematic. In the remainder of this section I discuss some of these problems. Ingram (1978) approaches the category of person by examining the lexical marking of deictic features (speaker, hearer, other). In evaluating languages with respect to this, Ingram asks, “what are the roles or combination of roles in the speech act that each language considers to be of sufficient importance to mark by a separate lexical form?” (p.215). Approached in this manner, English would be analyzed as having a five-way system: I, we, you, he, they; see Table 13.1 above. Gender and case distinctions do not come into consideration here because they are not pertinent to the roles of individuals in speech acts. Thus, English can be said to mark a lexical distinction between first, second, and third persons. Using this framework as a guideline, what roles or combination of roles does ASL mark with a separate lexical form? Are the individual pronoun forms in ASL separate lexical forms? Addressing first the question of separate, if we interpret “separate” to mean distinct, the answer would be yes. The various pronouns in ASL are both formationally distinct (in the sense that distinct locations in the signing space are utilized for all pronouns) as well as semantically or referentially distinct (reference to individuals within the discourse is unambiguous). But do these individual pronouns constitute separate lexical forms? Considering only singular reference for a moment, the standard analysis of pronominal reference argues for a three-way distinction in person: first person (index directed toward signer), second person (index directed toward a locus in front of the addressee), and third person (index directed toward a point in space previously associated with nonpresent referent). On this view, person distinctions in ASL, as well as in the other signed languages reviewed here, are based on distinct locations in the signing space.30 In order to evaluate the question of which person distinctions (if any) exist in ASL we must ask whether these locations in space are lexical; in other words, are the locations in space that are used for pronominal reference, that are used to distinguish individual referents in a discourse, specified in the lexicon? For the purposes of this discussion, I define the lexicon as the component of a grammar that contains information about the structural properties of the lexical items in a language. As such, the lexicon contains semantic, syntactic, and phonological specifications for the individual lexical items within the language. In a grammatical analysis of spatial locations, spatial features must have phonological substance. In other words, the locations toward which pronouns are directed must be part of a phonological system, and must be describable using a set of discrete phonological features. Liddell (2000a) addresses this 30

The proposed first person pronoun in ASL is not, in fact, articulated at a location in the signing space. Rather, it contacts the signer’s chest. This fact is addressed below.

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issue with respect to ASL pronouns and agreement verbs by reviewing the literature on spatial loci and pointing out the lack of adequate explanation concerning phonological implementation. One system of phonological representation (Liddell and Johnson 1989) attempted to specify locations in space by means of seven possible vectors radiating away from the signer, four possible distances away from the signer along that vector, and several possible height features. Combinations of vector, distance, and height could result in a large number of possible locations (loci) in the signing space. Although this is the most complete attempt at providing phonological specification for locations in the signing space, Liddell (2000a: 309) points out that it remains fundamentally inadequate: signers do not select from a predetermined number of vectors or heights if the person or thing is present. . . the system of directing signs is based on directing signs at physically present entities, regardless of where the entity is with respect to the signer.

He concludes that there is “no adequate means of giving phonological substance [to these structures]” (p.310). In other words, these locations in the signing space cannot be phonologically specified. I find Liddell’s arguments convincing, and the ramifications of his findings are significant. If, in fact, these locations cannot be phonologically specified, then we must conclude that the locations themselves cannot be part of the lexicon. If these locations are not part of the lexicon, then they cannot be part of the lexical marking of deictic features. Following this line of analysis, one would have to conclude that person distinctions in ASL are not lexically marked. Thus, although the various pronouns in a given discourse can be analyzed as separate (or formationally distinct), there is no evidence for lexical marking of deictic features. Again, because the spatial locations used for pronominal reference are not phonologically specifiable, there is no basis for person distinctions in ASL pronouns. At this point one might argue that an adequate means of specifying the phonological representation of locations in space is at least possible: sign language phonologists simply have not come up with it yet. Allowing for this possibility, let us assume for the moment that these locations in space can indeed be specified in the lexicon. If this is the case, then we are faced with a separate, more serious, problem. Nonpresent referents can be localized at an infinite number of distinct locations in space, “between any two points that have been associated with various referents, another could in principle be established” (Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990:194). This means that there are an infinite number of distinct lexical forms within the pronoun systems of signed languages. According to this analysis, signed languages would show not a three-way distinction in person, but rather an infinite number of distinctions in person, each marked by a separate lexical form. I would argue that such a “system” does not constitute person at all.


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13.6.2.1 An alternative analysis of pronouns in ASL . The typological data discussed in this paper are consistent with an alternative analysis of pronouns that has been proposed by Liddell (1994; 1995; 2000a; 2000b).31 Liddell’s analysis utilizes mental space theory, whereby “constructing the meanings of sentences depends on the existence of mental spaces – a type of cognitive structure distinct from linguistic representations” (Liddell 2000b:340–341, after Fauconnier 1985; 1997). Mental spaces are conceptual structures that speakers build up during discourse. A grounded mental space is a mental space whose entities are conceived of as being present in the immediate environment. Nonpresent referents (those that have been localized or established at locations in signing space) are viewed as conceptually present entities within a grounded mental space.32 Liddell argues that pronouns are directed toward elements of grounded mental spaces. When a pronoun is directed toward a physically present referent (such as the signer and the addressee), the direction is not lexically fixed, but rather depends on the actual physical location of the referent. Because a present referent can be in an unlimited number of physical locations, there are no linguistic features or discrete morphemes that can specify the direction of the sign. For nonpresent referents, pronouns are directed at elements (tokens and surrogates) that are conceived of as present in a grounded mental space. In contrast to the standard analysis of pronominal reference, Liddell argues that pronouns are a combination of linguistic and gestural elements. The linguistic elements (handshape, aspects of orientation, and some types of movement) are describable using discrete linguistic features. The direction and goal (or end point) of the movement, however, are not linguistic at all, but rather are gestural. 13.6.2.2 Conceptual iconicity in signed language pronominal reference. At this point in the discussion it may be useful to step back and take a look at language within the broader context of cognitive abilities. In particular, I would like to examine what Pederson and Nuyts (1997) have termed “the relationship question”; namely, what is the relationship between linguistic representation and conceptual representation? Although the precise nature of this relationship is the subject of much debate within cognitive science, here I assume that language and conceptualization have, at least to a certain degree, separate systems of representation. In other words linguistic representations are distinct from conceptual representations. Given this, and in light of the present discussion of reference in signed languages, it is worthwhile to ask whether the 31 32

Liddell’s argument encompasses not only pronouns in ASL, but also agreement markers. Here I discuss his analysis only as it relates to pronouns. Liddell (1994) distinguishes between two types of nonpresent referents, tokens and surrogates. Both are conceived of as being present in the grounded mental space.

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modality and/or the medium of a language might in some way have an influence on the interface between language and conceptualization? As was discussed in Section 13.5, because signed languages are able to utilize the spatial medium, they are uniquely equipped to convey spatial–relational information in a very direct, non-abstract manner. As a result, the interface between certain conceptual structures and their linguistic representations is qualitatively different. Specifically, signed languages enjoy a high degree of “conceptual iconicity” in certain subsystems of the languages (pronominal reference and classifier predicates being the two most evident). This conceptual iconicity is, I believe, an affordance of the medium. Participant roles (speaker/signer, addressee, other) are pragmatic constructs that exist within all languages, spoken and signed. However, the manner in which these roles are encoded is, at a very fundamental level, medium-dependent. In order to encode participant roles, spoken languages require a level of abstraction; a formal (i.e. purely linguistic) device is necessary to systematically encode distinctions in person. The resulting systems of grammatical person utilize distinctly linguistic forms (separate lexical forms, in Ingram’s framework) to refer to speaker, addressee, and other. These forms are lexically specifiable, and are internal to the grammar of the language. Signed languages are unique in that they do not require this level of abstraction. Because signed languages are conveyed in the spatial medium (and because reference to individuals within a discourse is unambiguous), formal, language-internal, marking of person is unnecessary. The coding of participant roles is accomplished not through linguistic devices, but rather through gestural deixis. The participants within a discourse are unambiguously identified through these deictic gestures, which are systematically incorporated into the system of pronominal reference. It is definitely not the case that the entire pronominal system (in ASL, for example) is devoid of grammatical or linguistic features. Case information is carried by the handshape components of referential signs; person pronouns are articulated with the 1 handshape, possessive pronouns with the B handshape, and reflexives with the “open A” handshape. In addition, as argued in Section 13.6.1, number appears to be a category that is grammatically marked in ASL. Crucially, however, locations in space, as they are used for reference across signed languages, do not constitute grammatical person distinctions. I am arguing (in support of Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990; Ahlgren 1990) that there are no formal person distinctions in signed languages. Rather “gestural deixis” (along the lines of Liddell’s analysis) serves to identify referents within a discourse. 13.6.2.3 Referential specificity revisited. In light of the distinction between modality and medium for which I have argued above, it may be useful to


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revisit the issue of referential specificity in pronominal reference. In particular, it seems that the continuum of referential specificity proposed in Section 13.3.4 can be further analyzed as being composed of two separate continua: semantic specificity and indexic specificity. In any given language, the identity of a referent may be determined either semantically or indexically. Spoken language pronoun systems are relatively rich semantically in that they rely on the use of formal semantic features to convey distinctions of person, number, and gender. The fact that the spoken languages examined above fall at various points along a continuum of referential specificity (see Figure 13.2) is a reflection of the degree to which the richness of semantic marking varies across spoken languages. Signed language pronoun systems, on the other hand, are relatively impoverished semantically; with the exception of numerosity, signed language pronouns rank very low on a continuum of semantic specificity. However, whereas they have a low degree of semantic specificity, signed languages as a whole demonstrate a very high degree of indexic specificity. Because signed languages have access to and fully utilize the three dimensions of space, reference to single individuals within a discourse is fully indexic. Significantly, it is when pronoun forms are semantically marked for number that the system is pushed in less indexic directions (discussed at greater length below). 13.6.2.4 Arguments for a first/nonfirst distinction. Before leaving this topic, I address some of the arguments that have been set forth as evidence for a distinction between first person and nonfirst person in sign language pronouns. Engberg-Pedersen (1993) has argued for a distinction between first and nonfirst person in Danish Sign Language (DSL). As evidence in support of this distinction, she points out that the first person pronoun differs formally from other pronouns in two ways. First, it is “the only form in which the manual articulator makes contact with something, namely the signer’s body as representing the referent” (Engberg-Pedersen 1993:134). Second, the first person pronoun is the only pronoun that is not always articulated with an index handshape; other handshapes used include a loose index handshape, loose flat hand, and handshapes identical to the handshape used in the verb that follows the first person pronoun. These same arguments could be made with respect to the posited first person pronoun in ASL (as well as the other signed languages discussed). As I am not familiar with DSL, my arguments against Engberg-Pedersen’s analysis are framed with respect to the facts of ASL. The formational differences that form the basis of Engberg-Pedersen’s analysis can be explained by other factors. With respect to the claim that the first person pronoun is distinct because it contacts something (the signer’s chest), an alternative explanation is available. Namely, that the form of this index is determined by the phonology, by the phonological rules that are active in the language. Various locations on the signer’s body can be used as places of

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articulation for well-formed signs; in ASL, these include locations on the neck, upper arm, elbow, forearm, as well as several distinct locations on the face, chest, and nondominant hand. The center of the chest is, without question, one of these locations, as evidenced by the fact that there are numerous lexical items in ASL whose specification for location is the center of the chest (LIKE, FEEL, EXCITED, WHITE). To my knowledge, however, there are no signs whose specification for location is the area just in front of the chest. I would argue that the first person pronoun contacts the chest because the well-formedness constraints that are active in the phonology of the language require that it do so.33 In other words, an index directed toward the chest but not actually contacting the chest could be argued to be in violation of well-formedness constraints that exclude the area in front of the chest as a permissible place of articulation for a sign. The fact that the pronoun referring to the addressee (second person in the standard analysis) does not contact the chest of the addressee is also due to phonological well-formedness constraints; in signed languages, locations on other people’s bodies are not permissible places of articulation for well-formed signs.34 Engberg-Pedersen’s second argument for distinguishing the category of first person is based on handshape variation that occurs with the first person pronoun forms in DSL. While the data Engberg-Pedersen provides with respect to this issue are incomplete, observations of similar variation in ASL “first person” pronouns suggest that the variation might be due in some instances to surface phonetic variation and in others to morphophonological processes, in particular handshape assimilation. The data in (3) from ASL illustrate the first type of variation.35 (3)

MY NEIGHBOR TEND TALK+++, PRO-1 1 HATE3 HER-3 GOSSIP. ‘My neighbor, she tends to talk a lot. I hate her gossiping!’

In this particular utterance, the phonological form of the “first person” pronoun (PRO-1) is a loose index handshape (index finger is partially extended, other three fingers are loosely closed). Whereas the citation form of this pronoun is a clearly articulated index, I would argue that what surfaces here is an instance of phonetic variation. A second example (4) illustrates handshape assimilation. (4)

33 34 35

DOG STUBBORN. PRO-1 FEED PRO-3, REBEL, REFUSE EAT ‘The dog is stubborn. I feed it, but it rebels, refuses to eat.’

This is perhaps an overstatement; phonetic variation may lead to an index directed toward, but not actually contacting, the chest. An exception to this might be found in infant-directed or child-directed signing, during which mothers (or other caregivers) sometimes produce pointing signs that contact a child. Data in (3) and (4) are from a corpus of ASL sentences being used as stimuli for a neurolinguistic experiment currently under way (Brain Development Lab, University of Oregon; Helen Neville, Director).


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In this utterance, the handshape of the “first person” pronoun is not the citation form handshape (clearly articulated index), but rather something that more closely resembles the handshape of the following verb, FEED (four outstretched fingers together, and the thumb touching the middle of the fingers). In other words, the handshape of the pronoun I has assimilated to the handshape of the following sign, FEED. Returning to Engberg-Pedersen’s posited distinction between first and nonfirst person in DSL, I have shown that an alternative analysis is possible. Though my comments are based not on DSL data but on similar data from ASL, I have illustrated that the two formational differences she claims support a first person distinction (contact with body and varying handshape) can, in fact, be interpreted as resulting from phonological factors. Like Engberg-Pedersen, Meier (1990) has argued that ASL distinguishes between first and non-first person in its pronouns. Meier’s arguments against a formal distinction between second and third person pronouns in ASL are convincing, and I fully agree with this aspect of his analysis.36 However, his arguments for distinguishing between first and nonfirst pronouns are less clearly convincing, and an alternative analysis is possible. Here I address two of his arguments. Analyzing data from role-playing in ASL, Meier states that “deictic points in role-playing do mark grammatical person, as is indicated by the interpretation of deictic points to the signer in role-playing” (Meier 1990:185). In role-playing situations, he argues, the ASL pronoun INDEXs (an index to the signer) behaves just like the English first-person pronoun, I , does in direct quotation. Although Meier takes this as evidence of the category first person in ASL, an alternative analysis exists. Couched within the Liddell’s framework (discussed above in Section 13.6.2.1), each “deictic point” in a discourse, regardless of whether or not role-playing is involved, is a point to an entity within a grounded mental space. These entities are either physically present (in the case of the signer and the addressee) or conceived of as present (in the case of nonpresent referents). When role-playing occurs, the conceptual maps on which the mental spaces are based shift. In other words, the conceptual layout of referents within a discourse shifts in the context of role-playing. Role-playing or not, indexes still point to entities within a grounded mental space, and referents are identified not through abstract person features, but through gestural deixis. 36

Meier’s arguments are threefold. First, with respect to the ways in which points in space are actually used in discourse, “the set of pointing signs we might identify as second person largely, if not completely, overlaps with the set we would identify as third person” (Meier 1990:186). Second, although eye gaze at the addressee is an important component of sign conversations, it does not appear to be a grammatical marker of second person in ASL. Finally, Meier notes that, while there exist gaps in the paradigms of agreement verbs that appear to be motivated by the existence of a first person object, there are no gaps that arise with respect to either the addressee (second person) or a non-addressed participant (third person).

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In addition to these arguments from role-playing, Meier suggests that the first person plural pronouns WE, OUR, and OURSELVES provide further evidence for person distinctions in ASL. The place of articulation of these signs, he argues, is only partially motivated; they share the same general place of articulation as the singular first person forms (the signer’s chest) but the place of articulation does not indicate the real world locations of those other than the signer. Although pronominal reference is unambiguous for singular pronouns, it is not the case that the plural forms of pronouns are always unambiguous. I agree with Meier on this point. Some plural pronouns are unable to take advantage of spatial locations in the same way that singular pronouns are; articulatory constraints can limit the ability to identify and coindicate plural referents that are located at non-adjacent locations in the signing space. Take, for example, the sign WE, which is normally articulated with the index handshape contacting the right side of the chest, then arcing over to the left side of the chest. As Meier notes, the articulation of this plural pronoun does not indicate the locations of any referents other than the signer. While Meier argues that this is evidence for a distinction between first and nonfirst person, this is not the only possible analysis. Like the plural form WE, there are instances in which non-first plural forms (THEY, for example) do not indicate the locations of referents. Example (5) serves to illustrate this. (5) [Context: The signer is describing her experience working at a Deaf school. The individuals for whom she worked, while the topic of conversation, have not been established at distinct locations in the signing space.] head nod t RESEARCH WORK, REGULAR. SOMETIMES FIND INFORMATION FOR INDEX-PL. ‘I did research on a regular basis. Sometimes I found information for them.’ In (5) the INDEX-PL serves as an unspecified general plural (a nonfirst person plural in Meier’s terms) and is articulated by a small sweeping motion of the index from left to right in neutral space. As none of the referents have been established in the signing space, this plural pronoun is non-indexic. A second set of nonsingular pronouns provides an additional example. Cormier (1998) notes that the number-incorporated signs (THREE-OF-US, FOUR-OFUS, FIVE-OF-US) do not always index the locations of the referents; “modulations for inclusive/exclusive interfere with the default indexic properties” of these pronouns (p.23). Thus we see that when pronouns are marked for plurality, the indexical function is sometimes suppressed. These non-indexical plurals can be taken as evidence for grammatical number marking within ASL;37 however, 37

Since I have argued that the numeral incorporated forms are not instances of grammatical number marking, this statement pertains most directly to examples like (5) above.


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the fact that they can surface in both “first” and “nonfirst” constructions suggests that the non-indexical WE is insufficient evidence for the existence of a first person category. The fact that WE is more often non-indexical than the plural forms YOUALL and THEY can be analyzed as resulting from the unusual semantics of WE (speaker + other(s)). Generally speaking, the category traditionally referred to as first person plural is anomalous across languages; as Benveniste (1971: 202) and others point out, “ ‘we’ is not a multiplication of identical objects but a junction between ‘I’ and the ‘non-I’, no matter what the content of this ‘non-I’ may be.” This anomaly is, one could argue, one of denotational semantics; whereas the plurals of “second” and “third” persons readily denote multiple addressees and multiple nonpresent referents, respectively, a “first” person plural does not typically denote multiple speakers.38 In the case of sign language pronominal reference, if we refer to the pragmatic constructs of speaker, hearer, and other (as opposed to the purely linguistic notions of person, which I have argued are unnecessary in languages expressed in the spatial medium), the non-indexical WE can be analyzed as just one way of expressing the concept of signer + unspecified others. Before moving on to a discussion of gender marking in signed language pronominal systems, one additional piece of evidence against a distinction between first and nonfirst person is discussed. Recall that IPSL has a transnumeral form that is unspecified for number, where a single point with an index finger can refer to any number of entities (Zeshan 1999; personal communication). As discussed in Section 13.2.2.2, the transnumeral form surfaces across all “persons,” first, second, and third. If there were a formal distinction between first and nonfirst persons, we might expect that number marking, in this case transnumerality, would reflect this distinction as well. The fact that first and nonfirst person pronouns are treated identically with respect to transnumerality suggests that the posited distinction is not well motivated. 13.6.3

Gender marking in signed languages

In Section 13.2.2.2, I suggested that, although gender handshapes may surface in some pronoun forms in Japanese Sign Language, gender marking may not be an integral component of the pronominal system of that language. Certainly, 38

ASL does, in fact, have pronominal forms that can (to varying degrees) clearly indicate which referents other than the signer are included. One such form is the indexical plural WE-COMP (‘composite we’) discussed in Cormier (1998), where individual pointing signs refer exhaustively to each member of the set. Baker and Cokely (1980:208–209) discuss a separate collection of forms that utilize an “arc-point”; with multiple present referents, “if the signer starts the arc by pointing to him/herself and stops with the last person on the other end, the arc-point means ‘we’ or ‘all of us’.” These are all strategies for specifying which specific referents are to be included in the semantically anomalous “signer and others” category of pronoun.

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gender distinctions could be marked systematically throughout the pronominal system of a signed language, for example through gender handshapes. As best we know, this has not happened. One possible explanation for the lack of gender marking in signed language pronominal systems has to do with functional motivations. The fact that locations in the signing space unambiguously identify referents in a discourse may render gender distinctions unnecessary. If Mary has been localized at locus ‘a,’ an index directed toward ‘a’ unambiguously identifies Mary as the referent; additional information regarding her gender is simply unnecessary. The unambiguous status of locations, one could say, trumps gender. A similar argument could be put forth to explain why no signed languages mark distinctions in kinship within their pronominal systems. Having reviewed person, number, and gender distinctions, I now return to a question posed earlier: can signed language pronominal reference be accounted for within a framework entirely based on grammatical distinctions? In other words, does the standard analysis of pronominal reference in signed languages adequately account for the data? Based on the discussion of person distinctions above, I would argue that it does not account for the data. While distinctions of number in signed language pronouns appear to be grammatically marked, person distinctions do not. I would argue that an analysis of sign language pronouns that relies on person distinctions is inadequate; the locations in space that lie at the heart of person distinctions cannot be lexically specified, and therefore cannot be considered lexical marking of person. 13.7

Conclusions

The present study, which examines pronominal reference across spoken and signed languages, reveals that, from a typological perspective, signed languages are unusual. Because signed languages have access to the spatial medium, there is a qualitative difference in spatial marking between languages in the two modalities. Because of their medium, signed languages have greater potential for non-arbitrary form–meaning correspondences within pronoun systems. Relationships can be expressed overtly in spatial terms, and as a result reference to individuals within a discourse is unambiguous. The data from signed languages indicate that number is a category that is grammatically marked in signed language pronouns, but the category of person is not. The fact that the location component of pronouns cannot be lexically specified precludes an analysis of lexical distinctions in person. In addition, I have argued that, although participant roles (as pragmatic constructs) exist in all human languages, spoken and signed languages differ in how these roles are encoded. Spoken languages require a formal linguistic device to systematically encode distinctions in person. Signed languages, on the other hand, do


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not. The coding of participant roles is accomplished not through abstract linguistic categories of person, but rather through gestural deixis. The participants within a discourse are unambiguously identified through deictic gestures that are incorporated into the system of pronominal reference. This having been said, an important question arises: what is the precise status of this class of signs in ASL? In other words, are the signs typically glossed as pronouns in fact pronouns at all? I have argued that because signed languages are deeply rooted in the spatial medium, they are able to convey spatial–relational information in a very direct manner and reference to individuals within a discourse is unambiguous. The resulting conceptual iconicity renders formal, language-internal, marking of person unnecessary. If it is the case that formal person distinctions do not exist in signed languages, then there may be no basis for analyzing these signs as personal pronouns. Although further research is needed, the results from the present study suggest that the class of signs traditionally referred to as personal pronouns may, in fact, be demonstratives. Describing this word class, Diessel (1999:2) writes that demonstratives generally serve pragmatic functions, in that they are primarily used to focus the addressee’s attention on objects or locations in the speech environment. Within the framework of mental space theory, the pointing signs that have been analyzed as pronouns behave very much like demonstratives. These pointing signs are directed toward entities that are present within the signing environment; for the signer and addressee, toward physically present entities, and for nonpresent referents toward conceptually present entities. If, in fact, this class of signs turns out to be more accurately classified as demonstratives, then the typologically unusual nature of sign language “pronouns” takes on a new meaning. Signed languages would be typologically unusual not because the pronouns all share some unusual characteristics, but because, as a class of human languages, there are no pronouns at all. This would most certainly be a significant typological finding, and a clear example of the extent to which the medium of a language affects the structure of that language. To be sure, additional research is needed in order to understand more fully the complex nature of spatial locations and the central role they play in signed language reference. By elucidating the role of space in signed languages, we will gain insight into the factors that shape language as well as the effects of modality and medium on the structure of language. Acknowledgments I have benefited greatly from two reviewers’ comments, questions, and criticisms, and I would like to thank them for their valuable contributions to this chapter. Special thanks to Richard Meier for his thoughtful responses, and to

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David Corina, Fritz Newmeyer, and Soowon Kim for their assistance. An earlier version of this chapter was presented at the Third Biennial Conference of the Association for Linguistic Typology, University of Amsterdam, 1999. I would like to thank the conference participants for their comments and suggestions. 13.8

References

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Supalla, Samuel J. 1991. Manually Coded English: The modality question in sign language development. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. II: Psychology, ed. Patricia Siple and Susan Fischer, 85–110. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Supalla, Ted. 1982. Structure and acquisition of verbs of motion and location in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. Supalla, Ted. 1986. The classifier system in American Sign Language. In Noun classes and categorization, ed. Colette Craig, 181–214. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Supalla, Ted and Yutaka Osugi. Unpublished. Gender handshapes in JSL (Japanese Sign Language). Course lecture notes, University of Rochester. Vasishta, Madan M., James C. Woodward, and Kirk L. Wilson. 1978. Sign language in India: Regional variation within the deaf population. Indian Journal of Applied Linguistics 4:66–74. Weber, David J. 1986. Huallaga Quechua pronouns. In Pronominal systems, ed. Ursula Wiesmann, 333–349. Tübingen: Narr. Winston, Elizabeth A. 1995. Spatial mapping in comparative discourse frames. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 87–114. Hillsdale NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Woodward, James C. 1978a. Historical basis of American Sign Language. In Understanding language through sign language research, ed. P. Siple, 333–348. New York: Academic Press. Woodward, James C. 1978b. All in the family: Kinship lexicalization across sign languages. Sign Language Studies 19:121–138. Zeshan, Ulrike. 1998. Functions of the index in IPSL. Manuscript, University of Cologne, Germany. Zeshan, Ulrike. 1999. Indo-Pakistani Sign Language. Manuscript, Canberra, Australian National University, Research Centre for Linguistic Typology.

14

Is verb agreement the same crossmodally? Christian Rathmann and Gaurav Mathur

14.1

Introduction

One major question in linguistics is whether the universals among spoken languages are the same as those among signed languages. Two types of universals have been distinguished: formal universals, which impose abstract conditions on all languages, and substantive universals, which fix the choices that a language makes for a particular aspect of grammar (Chomsky 1965; Greenberg 1966; Comrie 1981). It would be intriguing to see if there are modality differences in both types of universals. Fischer (1974) has suggested that formal universals like some syntactic operations apply in both modalities, while some substantive universals are modality specific. Similarly, Newport and Supalla (2000:112) have noted that signed and spoken languages may have some different universals due to the different modalities. In this chapter we focus on verb agreement as it provides a window into some of the universals within and across the two modalities. We start with a working definition of agreement for spoken languages and illustrate the difficulty in applying such a definition to signed languages. We then embark on two goals: to investigate the linguistic status of verb agreement in signed language and to understand the architecture of grammar with respect to verb agreement. We explore possible modality differences and consider their effects on the nature of the morphological processes involved in verb agreement. Finally, we return to the formal and substantive universals that separate and/or group spoken and signed languages.

14.2

A working definition of verb agreement

Agreement is a linguistic phenomenon whereby the presence of one element in a sentence requires a particular form of another element that is grammatically linked to the first element. In many documented spoken languages, the particular form of the second element, usually the verb, depends on the phifeatures (person, number, and/or gender features) of the first element, typically the subject of the sentence. 370

Is verb agreement the same crossmodally?

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Table 14.1 Null agreement system Japanese: tazuneru ‘ask’

Yoruba: lo ‘go’ Person

Singular

Plural

Person

Singular

Plural

1st 2nd 3rd

lololo-

lololo-

1st 2nd 3rd

tazunetazunetazune-

tazunetazunetazune-

Spoken languages vary as to whether they show null, weak or strong agreement (e.g. Speas 1995). Null agreement languages do not show overt agreement for any combination of person, number, and/or gender features (see Table 14.1). Other languages like Brazilian Portuguese and English (Table 14.2) show overt agreement for some feature combinations. If there is no overt agreement for a certain combination, a phonetically null affix, represented here by ø, is attached to the verb.1 Positing phonetically null affixes in languages like Brazilian Portuguese or English is justified by the fact that they contrast with overt agreement for other combinations within the paradigm. This is different from null agreement languages, where not even a phonetically null affix is attached. Languages that have strong agreement (Table 14.3) show overt agreement for all feature combinations, even if the same form is used for two or more combinations, e.g. -en for first person plural and third person plural in German. One characteristic common to all types of spoken languages showing overt agreement is that they show subject agreement. In rare cases, the verb may agree with the object – e.g. Huichol (Comrie 1982:68–70) and Itelmen (Bobaljik and Wurmbrand 1997) – but these languages usually show subject agreement too, which suggests that object agreement is more marked than subject agreement in spoken languages. There seems to be little controversy in the literature regarding the realization of verb agreement in spoken languages. On the other hand, in the literature on signed languages, the status of verb agreement is still under debate. Consider Figure 14.1, which shows what many people mean by “verb agreement” in signed languages. As the figure shows for American Sign Language (ASL), the handshape for ASK (an index finger) bends as it moves from one location to another in front of the signer. Each location can be understood as representing a referent: the first would be associated with the asker and the second with the askee. While the forms for ask differ across the signed languages with respect to hand configuration and other lexical properties, the forms undergo exactly the same changes to mark the meaning of you ask me. See the examples in 1

The agreement forms given for the spoken languages are valid in the present tense; they may look different in other tenses, providing another source of variation.

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Christian Rathmann and Gaurav Mathur

Table 14.2 Weak agreement system Brazilian Portuguese: perguntar ‘ask’

English: ask

Person

Singular

Plural

Person

Singular

Plural

1st 2nd 3rd

pergunt-o pergunt-ø pergunt-a

pergunt-amos pergunt-ø pergunt-am

1st 2nd 3rd

ask-ø ask-ø ask-s

ask-ø ask-ø ask-ø

Figure 14.2: FRAGEN in German Sign Language (Deutsche Gebärdensprache or DGS), QUESTION in Australian Sign Language (Auslan) and TAZUNERU in Japanese Sign Language (Nihon Syuwa or NS). Sandler (1993), Meir (1998), and Newport and Supalla (2000) have made similar observations. In addition, Supalla (1997), Mathur (2000), and Mathur and Rathmann (2001), who carried out systematic comparisons of verb agreement across several signed languages, have confirmed that the shape of the agreement form is the same in all the signed languages studied.2 We assume that the generalizations hold for all signed languages. For more examples from DGS, ASL, NS, and Auslan, see Table 14.4. If we call agreement with the asker “subject agreement” and that with the askee “object agreement,” one substantive universal for signed languages is that subject agreement seems to be more marked than object agreement. If there is one agreement slot available, it is with the object, not with the subject (Meier 1982).3 If there are two agreement slots, object agreement is obligatory while subject agreement is optional (Meier 1982; Padden 1983; Supalla 1997). In addition, the “multiple” morpheme consisting of an arc movement is available only for object agreement (Padden 1983). Two apparent exceptions are the signs HABEN ‘have’ in DGS and HAVE in British Sign Language, which seem to require subject agreement only, but these forms may be analyzed as ‘be-at-person’ as in Russian (e.g. u menja est kniga, literally ‘at pronoun1st.sg.GENITIVE is book’) or as possessive pronouns (for DGS data, see Ehrlenkamp 1999) and deserve further investigation.4 2

3 4

In particular, Supalla (1997) uses data from ASL, British Sign Language, Finnish Sign Language, Italian Sign Language, NS, and Swedish Sign Language. Mathur and Rathmann (2001) examine Auslan, DGS, ASL, and Russian Sign Language. Mathur (2000) looks at the same set of signed languages, with NS replacing Russian Sign Language. This is also true for reflexive forms, which have one agreement slot and therefore must agree with the object (Janis 1992:338; Meir 1998:278). The DGS sign HABEN, sometimes glossed as BESITZEN ‘own’ (e.g. in Keller 1998), is made with a wiggling movement and a ‘sch’ gestural mouthing which means that someone is in possession of something. This is distinguished from the form DA ‘there’ which has a straight movement and a ‘da’ mouthing, meaning that something or someone is there. While DA has been glossed as ‘there’, it seems to be capable of showing agreement with the location of the subject, which is not otherwise possible with the ASL sign THERE.


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Table 14.3 Strong agreement system German: fragen ‘ask’

Spanish: preguntar ‘ask’ Person

Singular

Plural

Person

Singular

Plural

1st 2nd 3rd

pregunt-o pregunt-as pregunt-a

pregunt-amos pregunt-a´ıs pregunt-an

1st 2nd 3rd

frag-e frag-st frag-t

frag-en frag-t frag-en

How do we characterize the reference to the asker and to the askee, as well as their relation to each other and to the verb? How do we account for the large number of substantive universals across signed languages with respect to verb agreement? We briefly review the sign language literature, which has mostly focused on ASL, to understand how these issues have been addressed. 14.3

Literature review on verb agreement in signed language(s)

14.3.1

Classic view

Stokoe, Casterline, and Croneberg (1965:279–282) recognized that some verbs move away from and toward the signer (e.g. ASL signs like ASK and TAKE)5 and that the change from one direction to another could be understood as a verbal inflection for “personal reference.” Fischer (1973), Friedman (1975; 1976), and Fischer and Gough (1978) analyzed these verbs in greater detail, calling them “(multi)-directional verbs” (e.g. ASL GIVE). Fischer and Gough also noted that some verbs may change their orientation (e.g. ASL TEASE) and/or location (e.g. ASL OWE). The next question is whether the changes can be considered an inflection process. 14.3.2

Simultaneity view

In the period ranging from the late 1970s to the early 1980s, the modulation of the verb according to loci on a horizontal plane was considered to be an inflectional process that reflects “indexic reference” to first, second, and third person (Klima and Bellugi 1979; Padden 1983). The other point raised in this period is that morphemes inside the verb correspond to the object (and the subject), but these morphemes are expressed simultaneously with the verb. Meier (1982) gives two arguments for this view: it is possible to identify 5

The sign language literature now calls them “regular” and “backwards” verbs (compare Padden 1983).

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ASL Figure 14.1

ASK ‘You ask me’ in ASL

a verb’s arguments from its direction of movement alone, and verbs like TEASE and BOTHER do not move between loci but change only in their orientation.6 14.3.3

Sequentiality/simultaneity view

One issue that remains is how to implement this morphemic analysis of verb agreement. Sandler (1986; 1989) and Liddell and Johnson (1989) develop phonological models based on the observation that signs may have not only simultaneous but also sequential structure, e.g. a sign may have two handshapes or locations in a sequence. These models make it possible to view the “agreement morpheme” consisting of location features as an independent affix that is attached to a verb stem underspecified for location. Independently, Gee and Kegl (1982; 1983) and Shepard-Kegl (1985) pursue a locative hypothesis in analyzing signs in terms of several morphemes, including LOCs which mean “the reference point of a movement or location” and which are represented separately from the verb stem so that they precede or follow the base. Similarly, Bahan (1996) and Neidle, Kegl, MacLaughlin, Bahan, and Lee (2000) use the distribution of nonmanual features to argue for the independent status of agreement. In particular, they argue that eye gaze corresponds to object agreement and head tilt to subject agreement (see Neidle et al. 2000:33–35 for manuals, and 63–70 for nonmanuals). 14.3.4

R-locus view

The R-locus view is inspired by Lacy (1974) and is articulated by Lillo-Martin and Klima (1990). Ahlgren (1990) using data from Swedish Sign 6

Prillwitz’s (1986) analysis considers this to be subject and object incorporation, based on data from DGS.


DGS

Figure 14.2

NS

375

Auslan

‘You ask me’ in DGS, NS, and Auslan

Language, Keller (1998) using data from DGS, Meir (1998) using data from Israeli Sign Language, and Janis (1992), Bahan (1996), and Cormier, Wechsler and Meier (1998) using data from ASL have also followed this kind of approach, under which the locus is represented as a variable in the linguistic system, whose content comes from discourse.7 There is no need to represent the locus overtly at the level of syntax. It is sufficient to use the referential indices that are associated with loci during the discourse. Keller further suggests that once the content is retrieved from discourse, it is cliticized onto the verb. 14.3.5

Liddell’s view

One question that the R-locus view leaves open is whether the locus needs to be specified phonologically when it is retrieved from the discourse. Liddell (1990; 1995; 2000a; 2000b) reconsiders the status of the locus in signed languages, i.e. whether each point in the signing space receives its own phonological description and is listed in the lexicon as a morpheme. In Liddell (1990) he observes that ‘GIVE-to-tall-person’ would be directed higher in the signing space, whereas ‘GIVE-to-child’ would be directed lower, as originally observed by Fischer and Gough (1978). Rather than describing such verbs as being directed toward a point, Liddell (2000b) suggests that they are best described as being directed toward entities in mental spaces.8 In addition, Liddell (2000a) argues that such entities cannot be a proper part of the linguistic system. Instead, using 7

8

Ahlgren (1990:167) argues that “in Swedish Sign Language pronominal reference to persons is made through location deictic terms” rather than through personal pronouns. Assuming that the use of location deictic terms is dependent on discourse structure, we have grouped this publication under the R-locus view. A related point is made by Liddell (1990, 1995) that many agreement verbs are articulated at a specific height. For example, the ASL signs ESP, TELL, GIVE, and INVITE are articulated respectively at the levels of the forehead, the chin, the chest, and the lower part of the torso.

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Table 14.4 Verb classes according to the phonological manifestation of agreement Class

DGS

1. Verbs that change only in orientation

NS

Auslan

BEEINFLUSSEN PITY ‘influence’ ANALYZE LEHREN ‘teach’ KRITISIEREN FILM ‘criticise’

MITOMERU ‘approve’ OKORU ‘be angry at’ SETTOKU-SURU ‘persuade’

FEED

FRAGEN ‘ask’ GEBEN ‘give’ HELFEN ‘help’

PHONE

CHUUI-SURU ‘advise’ KIRAI ‘dislike’ OKURU ‘send by post’

ANSWER

ANTWORTEN ‘answer’ IGNORIEREN ‘ignore’ EINLADEN ‘invite’

JOIN

IU ‘tell’ EIKYOO-SURU ‘influence’ HIHAN-SURU ‘criticize’

CHOOSE

4. Verbs that change in orientation, direction of movement, and the relative positions of the two hands with respect to the body

(signs in this category are usually used with PAM)

MEET

5. Verbs that change in orientation and the relative positions of the two hands with respect to the body

(signs in this category are usually used with PAM)

2. Verbs that change only in direction of movement

3. Verbs that change both in orientation and direction of movement

ASL

VISIT SHOW

SEND BLAME

TEASE COPY

QUESTION HIRE

FAX PAY

KOROSU ‘kill’ INFLUENCE MANE-SURU ‘imitate’ YOBU PICK-ON ‘call’

ATTACK

CRITICIZE

BLAME

TRAIN DECEIVE

TASUKERU ‘help’ HAGEMASU ‘encourage’ DAMASU ‘deceive’

DECEIVE SENDMAIL

FLATTER FLIRT

Fauconnier’s (1985, 1997) model, Liddell (2000b:345) analyzes one example of LOOK-AT as follows. There are three mental spaces: the “cartoon space” where the interaction between the seated “Garfield” and his owner takes place; a Real space containing mental representations of oneself and other entities in the immediate physical environment; and a grounded blend, which blends elements of the two spaces. In this blended space, the “owner” and


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“Garfield” are mapped respectively from the “owner” and “Garfield” in the cartoon space. From Real space, the “signer” is mapped onto “Garfield” in the blended space. Using entities in mental space removes the need to define a “locus” morphologically or phonologically. It also follows from the account that verbs are directed according to the height of the referent(s) rather than to a dot-like point in space. 14.4

On the linguistic nature of verb agreement in signed languages

Comrie (1981:230), following Friedman (1976) and many others in the sign linguistics field, says that the two modalities are different precisely because signed languages use an “indefinite” number of points in the space in front of the signer.9 We call this the “infinity view.” Liddell (2000a) also says that the two modalities are different but for another reason: agreement verbs (or “indicating verbs” in his terms) in signed languages indicate entities in mental spaces. Before we can decide how to characterize the differences between the two modalities, we discuss in greater detail: r the infinity issue; and r the representation of linguistic information. 14.4.1

Infinity issue = listability issue

There has been little explicit discussion of the morphemic status of the locus or of the phonological implementation of loci. We explore both problems in light of the infinity issue. To explore the infinity issue more, we distinguish between “unboundedness” and “unlistability.” We first illustrate with mathematical examples. The set of integers {0, 1, 2, . . . } is unbounded because there is no endpoint (although it has a starting point at zero), but it is listable because it is always possible to predict literally what the “next” number is. In contrast, the set of rational numbers between zero and one is bounded due to the boundaries at zero and one, but is unlistable because it is not possible to find, for example, the number that appears “next” to zero, due to the fact that there will always be another number closer to zero. How do these notions apply to the lexicon and to the phonetics of a language? The lexicon is listable, which seems to be a necessary criterion. The lexicon is also bounded, although this is by no means a necessary criterion: while a 9

See, for example, Lillo-Martin (1991), Cormier et al. (1998), Bahan (1996:84) citing Neidle et al. (1995) and Neidle et al. (2000).

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speaker/signer knows a finite number of lexical items at any moment in time, the lexicon can be theoretically expanded with an infinite number of lexical items over time.10 Let us turn to the set of loci in signed languages. There are two levels of phonetic variation. The first level is concerned with form only, is analogous to the level of phonetic variation in spoken languages, and does not pose a problem. Following Lindblom’s (1990) H & H theory, if we establish a point on the contralateral side to refer to John and want be as clear as possible, we usually try to point back as closely as possible to the original point.11 If we want to follow articulatory ease, we may point roughly in the direction of the area around the point. This leads to phonetic variation that is unlistable. There is another level of variation that does pose a challenge. Barring phonetic variation, a different locus than John’s may have a different meaning. Since there is theoretically a one-to-one correspondence between a locus and a referent, each locus must be listed in the lexicon, even though the form looks the same for each meaning, whereas in spoken languages such contrasts in meaning tend to correspond to contrasts in form. Such loci may be listable if we follow Meier (1990) in grouping them into two categories: first person and nonfirst person. The first person category itself is listable: it has only one member, namely the locus near (or on) the signer, and the exact location is subject to crosslinguistic variation. It is the nonfirst person category that is responsible for the unlistability of the set of loci, although it can be understood as a bounded set falling within the signing space. Furthermore, the first person and nonfirst person categories are bounded by the distinct handshapes that are used, e.g. the index finger for the nonpossessive and the upright flat hand for the possessive form in ASL. Then the set of loci is bounded but not listable in the nonfirst person category. Yet the set of loci fails to meet the one criterion for a lexicon, which is listability, not boundedness. The infinity issue is thus one of listability. 14.4.2

The representation of linguistic information in verb agreement

To address the listability issue, Liddell (2000b) has suggested that part of “verb agreement” depends on entities in mental spaces. The only linguistic component, he argues, comes from the verb itself, which has a lexical entry specifying its meaning as well as its phonological shape, such as handshape and/or orientation. Below, we present three arguments that the agreement part, separate from the lexical entry of the verb, is linguistic in nature and that reference 10

11

See Jackendoff (1992:51), who says that there is theoretically an infinite number of concepts to choose from that will be expressed through overt forms. One interesting question to be investigated is whether languages in one modality choose to lexicalize more concepts than languages in the other modality when it comes to the spatio-temporal domain. See Cormier (in progress) for related work on this point.


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to entities in mental spaces is not sufficient to predict some properties of verb agreement. 14.4.2.1 Lehmann’s (1988) criteria. Liddell (2000a) uses Lehmann’s (1988) criteria to argue that there is no “verb agreement” in signed languages. The criteria are shown in (1). (1)

Lehmann’s (1988:55) criteria: Constituent B agrees with constituent A (in category C) if and only if the following three conditions hold true: r There is a syntactic or anaphoric relation between A and B r A belongs to a subcategory c of a grammatical category C, and A’s belonging to C is independent of the presence or the nature of B. r c is expressed on B and forms a constituent with it.

This last criterion focuses on the morphological side of agreement and does not conclusively determine whether there is agreement as a general linguistic process, especially when some of the morphemes are null. To argue for the presence of verb agreement in the English sentence I ask her (as opposed to he ask-s her), it is common to assume that there is a phonetically null morpheme for first person singular attached to the verb ask, but this assumption is not required by the criteria. The criteria can also be applied in such a way that signed languages exhibit agreement if the spatial location of a noun referent is taken to be a grammatical category. For example, in the DGS sentence MUTTER IXi VATER IXj i FRAGENj ‘the mother asks the father,’ FRAGEN can be said to agree with the object IXj VATERin its spatial location if and only if IXj VATER is syntactically related to FRAGEN (as an object); IXj VATERhas a particular spatial location (notated by j), which is independent of the nature of FRAGEN; and this spatial location is expressed as an endpoint of the verb. Similarly, signed languages may pass the criteria if person is taken as the relevant grammatical category. Verb forms for first person are distinctive from nonfirst person forms (Meier 1990). The presence of a single distinctive form, like the English third person singular form -s, is sufficient to pass Lehmann’s criteria. Signed languages may also pass the criteria if number is the relevant grammatical category. Although number marking does not change the directionality of the verb, and Liddell (2000a) is concerned with identifying the grammatical category that drives the change in directionality, the presence of overt number agreement in signed languages can be used to argue for the grammatical basis of verb agreement. For instance, plural object agreement is expressed through the “multiple” morpheme in a number of signed languages that we have studied (DGS, ASL, Auslan, Russian Sign Language, and NS).

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Additionally, we have found in our data that NS has an optional auxiliarylike marker for plural subject agreement. The dominant hand is in the spread 5 handshape, while the nondominant hand is in the A handshape with the thumb extended. To express we all like you, the verb for like is accompanied by the following form: the dominant hand is placed closer to the signer’s body, palm facing away, and behind the nondominant hand; the two hands then push forward simultaneously. For the corresponding form in the context you all like me, the dominant hand, palm facing the signer, is farther away from the signer’s body than the nondominant hand, and the two hands move toward the signer. Thus, we see some crosslinguistic diversity with respect to the marking of number that can be explained only if we admit a linguistic component for verb agreement with parametric variation. Lehmann’s criteria, nor any other approach to morphology for that matter, do not help determine whether spatial locations constitute a grammatical category, so that they do not address whether agreement in signed languages involves a linguistic component. Below, we provide two theory-neutral arguments that do suggest verb agreement has a linguistic component in signed languages.

14.4.2.2 The role of animacy. Comrie (1981) has demonstrated that many spoken languages define and express animacy in overlapping ways. For this reason, it has been difficult to establish animacy as a grammatical category, but it nonetheless appears to play an important role in the linguistic system. We show similarly that, in signed languages, there are four kinds of verbs that differ in their ability to take animate and/or inanimate arguments. They also differ as to whether they show agreement. For a list of DGS and ASL examples for each kind of verb, see Table 14.5. We now provide four tests to distinguish them. The first test applies only to DGS, which has an auxiliary-like element called Person Agreement Marker (PAM) that is inserted to show agreement if a verb does not show agreement overtly, whether due to phonetic or pragmatic reasons (Rathmann 2001). The test is whether PAM may appear with the verb. The other tests apply in both DGS and ASL. The second test is whether the verb can be inflected for the “multiple” number which involves adding a horizontal arc to the verb root. The third test is whether the verb can cause the locus of an object to shift, as in the ASL sign GIVE-CUP which has an animate subject that causes the theme (a cup, in this instance) to shift its locus from one (source) place to another (goal), as described by Padden 1990. The fourth test is whether object agreement can be optionally omitted. Now consider one type of verb that always requires two animate arguments, e.g. DGS FRAGEN ‘ask’ and ASL TEASE. These verbs pass only the first two


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Table 14.5 Verb types according to whether they accept (in)animate arguments Types

DGS

ASL

1. Verbs that appear only with two animate arguments

BEEINFLUSSEN ‘influence’ FRAGEN ‘ask’ BESCHEID-SAGEN ‘tell’

BAWL-OUT ADVISE TEASE

2. Verbs that appear with two animate arguments (or with one animate argument and one inanimate concrete argument)

BEOBACHTEN ‘observe’ FILMEN ‘film’ ¨ VERNACHLASSIGEN ‘ignore’

LOOK-AT FILM LEAVE

3. Verbs that appear with two animate arguments (or with one animate argument and one inanimate abstract argument)

LEHREN ‘teach’ ¨ UNTERSTUTZEN ‘support’ VERBESSERN ‘improve’

TEACH SUPPORT OFFER

4. Verbs that always appear with one animate argument and one inanimate argument

KAUFEN ‘buy’ KOCHEN ‘cook’ VORBEREITEN ‘prepare’

BUY STUDY MAKE

tests: PAM may appear with the uninflected forms of such DGS signs, and the verbs of this type in both languages may be modulated for the “multiple” form. Otherwise, they cannot shift the locus of the (animate) argument nor can they omit object agreement optionally. Within this set is a subtype of verbs that may take two animate arguments or that may take a concrete, inanimate argument instead of an animate one. By “concrete” we mean the referent of the argument is something that we can see in the real world. Examples include DGS BEOBACHTEN ‘look at’ and ASL LEAVE. If these verbs appear with two animate arguments, they behave like the first set of verbs with respect to the four tests. However, if they appear with an inanimate argument, they pass only the third test: they can shift the locus of the object. In its usual sense, ‘give to someone’ moves from the subject locus to the object locus. However, it can also mean ‘hand an object.’ If so, the verb moves from the source locus to the goal locus, even though the subject argument remains animate with the theta role as the CAUSER of the event. When these verbs appear with an inanimate argument, they cannot appear with PAM, nor be inflected for “multiple” but, importantly, like the first class of verbs, object agreement with the inanimate argument is obligatory. There is another set of verbs, which may take two animate arguments, but in some cases, they may instead take a nonconcrete inanimate argument. For example, DGS LEHREN ‘teach’ and ASL OFFER may appear with two animate

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arguments and behave exactly like the verbs in the first class or they may appear with a nonconcrete inanimate argument, as in ‘teach mathematics,’ ‘offer promotion,’ and ‘support a certain philosophy.’ In these cases, the verbs pass only the fourth test: they optionally leave out object agreement even if the argument has been set up at a location in the space in front of the signer. Otherwise, they cannot be used with PAM, nor with the “multiple” inflection, nor can they shift the locus of the object. These three types of verbs differ from other verbs like DGS KOCHEN ‘cook’ and ASL BUY which always take inanimate object arguments. Other verbs that do not show agreement are those that take only one animate argument (DGS SCHWIMMEN ‘swim’) and verbs that take a sentential complement (DGS DENKEN ‘think’).12 There are several psych-verbs that assign the theta role of an EXPERIENCER to an external argument, some of which have been previously assumed to be plain (or non-agreeing) verbs, e.g. ASL LIKE and LOVE (Padden 1983; for similar data in Israeli Sign Language, see Meir 1998). Some that select for one argument – like DGS ERSCHRECKEN ‘shock’ or ASL SURPRISE – do not qualify for verb agreement since they do not have the required two arguments. On the other hand, we argue that psych verbs with two animate arguments are agreeing verbs. First some verbs do show agreement, e.g. ASL HATE, ADMIRE, PITY, and LOOK-DOWN-ON. Also, in DGS such verbs may appear with PAM: MAG ‘like’ and SAUER ‘be mad at.’13 Other psych verbs do not show agreement for the reason that they are articulated on the body, e.g. DGS MAG ‘like’ or ASL LOVE. The above characterizations seem to lead to the generalization, in line with Janis (1992), that when verb agreement is present, it is either with an animate direct object or with an indirect object if present, which itself tends to be animate. (2)

a. NPsubject b. NPsubject c. NPsubject

V V V

NPdirect object(inanimate) NPdirect object(animate) NPindirect object(animate)

NPdirect object(inanimate)

It is possible that the animate direct object in (2b) shares the same structural position as the indirect object in (2c); similarly the (inanimate) direct object in (2a) may share the same structural position as the direct object in (2c). If this is correct, it would be straightforward to characterize verb agreement in terms of

12 13

This set is known as the class of “plain verbs” (Padden 1983). See Meir (2000) who analyzes similar forms in Israeli Sign Language as instances of case marking on the object.


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the structural positions of the subject and the indirect object-like position.14 This clustering of indirect objects with animate direct objects receives independent evidence from Mohawk, where “noun incorporation is a property of inanimate nouns that fill the direct object role” and where “noun incorporation of animate direct objects is limited and noun incorporation of subjects and indirect objects is completely impossible” yet visible agreement morphemes exist for these last three categories (Baker 1996:20). In sum, defining verb agreement as referring to entities in mental spaces alone does not seem to be sufficient for predicting the different types of verbs with respect to agreement in terms of the animacy properties of their arguments. 14.4.2.3 Asymmetries in the interaction of agreeing verbs with other grammatical elements. Another piece of evidence for the linguistic nature of verb agreement in signed languages comes from some asymmetries in interactions between grammatical elements. We discuss several examples here. First, in languages like DGS that use PAM, there is an asymmetry in syntactic structure between sentences with PAM and sentences with agreeing verbs (Rathmann 2001). In sentences with PAM, the object, which PAM cliticizes to, may follow or precede negation, perfective aspect, and modals. In contrast, in sentences with agreeing verbs, the object can only appear after these elements. An example is provided below with negation. (3)

Sentences with PAM top top a. HANSi MARIEj [NegP NOCH∧ NICHT [AgrP i PAMj Hans Marie not-yet PAM [VP proj MAG ] ] ] like ‘Hans does not yet like Marie.’ top top b. HANSi MARIEj [NegP i PAMj proj NOCH∧ NICHT Hans Marie PAM not-yet [AgrP ti [VP MAG ] ] ] like ‘Hans does not yet like Marie.’

14

Janis’s (1992) analysis is similar in that it uses grammatical relations to predict the presence of verb agreement, but instead of characterizing the agreement exclusively in terms of grammatical relations, this analysis uses a hierarchy of controller features that include case and semantic relations.

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(4)

Sentences with agreeing verbs top top a. HANSi MARIEj [NegP NOCH∧ NICHT [VP proj i FRAGENj ] ] Hans Marie not-yet ask ‘Hans has not yet asked Marie a question.’ top top b. ∗HANSi MARIEj [NegP proj i FRAGENj NOCH∧ NICHT [VP ti ] ] Hans Marie ask not-yet ‘Hans has not yet asked Marie a question.’

In all the examples, the noun phrases HANS and MARIE are topicalized with a special facial expression marker. While the object may be an overt noun phrase, which would be MARIE in the above cases, it is more common to have a null pronoun indicated as by a small pro. Then the difference between (3) and (4) lies in the fact that PAM may be raised before the negation, but the verb FRAGEN cannot, even though the verb bears agreement just like PAM. These facts suggest that PAM licenses an additional layer of structure that allows the object to shift from its base-generated position and raise above negation. If PAM functions to show agreement when a verb cannot show it and if PAM licenses object raising, this constitutes strong syntactic evidence for the linguistic component of agreement in signed languages. Furthermore, the use of PAM is available not only in DGS but also in other signed languages such as NS (Fischer 1996), Taiwanese Sign Language (Smith 1990) and Sign Language of the Netherlands (Bos 1994). However, not all signed languages have an element like PAM, for example ASL, British Sign Language, and Russian Sign Language. Thus, there may be parametric variation across signed languages with respect to whether they can use PAM or not, which may explain the differing basic word orders (e.g. SVO vs. SOV, i.e. subject– verb–object vs. subject–object–verb) (Rathmann 2001). This syntactic variation across signed languages constitutes another piece of evidence for the linguistic aspect of verb agreement in signed languages. Another example comes from binding principles. Lillo-Martin (1991:62–63) argues that when there is verb agreement, a small pro may appear in the object position, as in *STEVEi SEEi pro ‘Steve saw himself.’ Like overt pronouns, small pro is constrained by a binding principle that says roughly that a pronoun cannot be bound by an antecedent within the same clause (Chomsky 1981:188). Thus, the sentence is ruled out. We see that verb agreement in signed languages interacts with pronouns in ways similar to spoken languages at the level of syntax. In line with Aronoff et al. (2000), and Meier (2002), Lillo-Martin (this volume), these examples make two points:


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r There are syntactic constraints that reveal a linguistic component to verb agreement. r These constraints show the need for a syntactic module, which will be important later in the discussion of the architecture of grammar. 14.5

Reconciling the linguistic nature of verb agreement with the listability issue

So far, we have shown that various properties of verb agreement can be predicted only under the linguistic system. Given that reference to mental entities does not provide the full story, the next question is how to reconcile the linguistic nature of verb agreement with the listability issue. Some sign language researchers have accepted unlistability as a modality difference, and let the manifestation of the phi-features equal the locus, as has been suggested by Cormier et al. (1998:227) and Neidle et al. (2000:31). Even if we were to conclude that unlistability is unique to signed languages and distinguishes them from spoken languages, we still have to go further in addressing this listability issue. Recall that under the R-locus view, the locus comes from discourse. While this view allows the syntactic component to remain autonomous from discourse structure and solves the listability issue by moving it into the realm of discourse structure, there is the possibility that the listability issue is brought back into the linguistic system by allowing the information from discourse structure to enter the phonological structure and provide phonetic content for the indices, since it must be ensured that distinct loci match up with distinct referential indices.15 We sketch another scenario: all linguistic elements are handled first and then bundled off together to the articulatory-perceptual interfaces, where they are matched against some spatio-temporal conceptual structure that represents spatial relations among the loci. Like the above approach, there is no need to provide a phonological specification for a locus. In addition, at the articulatory-perceptual interfaces, linguistic elements, having followed linguistic constraints, are matched with the spatio-temporal conceptual structure. Recall from the previous section that agreement is generally with the indirect object, otherwise with an animate direct object (and optionally with the subject). These generally correspond respectively to the theta roles of the recipient or animate patient for the object and to the theta role of agent for the subject. Thus, argument structure can predict when verb agreement will be required and, moreover, determine that two distinct loci are needed from the conceptual 15

Fiengo and May (1994:1) define the function of an index as affording “a definition of syntactic identity: elements are the ‘same’ only if they bear occurrences of the same index, ‘different’ if they bear occurrences of different indices.”

386


structure. If the indices are distinct, the loci are automatically distinct and face each other. This is one way to reconcile the linguistic nature of verb agreement with the listability issue in signed languages. Now let us return to the possibility raised by the infinity view: are signed languages still considered to be a separate group from spoken languages? In spoken languages, the elements that determine verb agreement are argument structure, the indices (or more precisely, the phi-features) of the noun phrases, as well as the visibility condition that these noun phrases may be assigned theta roles only if they are made “visible” either through the assignment of abstract Case (Chomsky 1981:Chapter 6) or through coindexation with a morpheme in the verb via agreement or movement (Morphological Visibility Condition; Baker 1996:17). This is exactly the same as the scenario sketched for signed languages, if we take the visibility condition to mean that in the case of signed languages, a noun phrase is “visible” for theta role assignment through agreement in the sense of Baker (1996). It seems then that the visibility condition on argument structure is a candidate for a formal universal applying to both spoken and signed languages. It is not with which argument the verb agrees that the argument structure decides, since that is subject to variation (recall that agreement tends to be with the subject in spoken languages and with the object in signed languages). Rather, it is the fact that the argument structure predicts verb agreement that is universal crossmodally. While signed and spoken languages may be grouped together on the basis of these formal universals, the infinity view is partly correct that there must be some differences between the two modalities due to the listability issue. We suggest that the differences lie at the articulatory-perceptual interfaces and we flesh out the above scenario with an articulated architecture of grammar as it pertains to verb agreement.

14.6

Modality differences in the application of the architecture of grammar to verb agreement: A proposal

14.6.1

Adapting an architecture of grammar

To understand the modality differences regarding the listability issue, we need to understand how the architecture of grammar interacts with the so-called gestural space. We have chosen to adapt Jackendoff’s (1987; 1992; 1997) model, because it is particularly suited to capturing the similar and different roles of the gestural space in spoken and signed languages. In this model, there are several modules, which have their own “primitives and principles of combination and [their] own organization into subcomponents” (Jackendoff 1992:31). There are


387

Syntactic structure Visual input Motor output

Articulatoryperceptual interfaces

Figure 14.3

Phonological structure

Gestural space as medium

Conceptual structure

Vision Action etc.

An adaptation of Jackendoff’s (1992) model

also “correspondence rules” linking one module with another. We go over each module in clockwise fashion, starting from the top of Figure 14.3. In syntax, elements are taken from the numeration (a set of lexical items chosen for a particular derivation, in the sense of Chomsky 1995), merged and moved. Here syntactic constraints apply, and the noun phrases are themselves linked to conceptualizations of referents. Conceptual structure maps onto “other forms of mental representation that encode, for instance, the output of the visual faculty and the input to the formulation of action” (Jackendoff 1992:32).16 This is the domain of mental representations that may be subject to further “inference rules,” which include not just logical inference but also rules of “invited inference, pragmatics and heuristics.” We focus on one part of conceptual structure, the spatio-temporal conceptual structure. Since this module is concerned with relations between entities, we suggest it is this part that interfaces with the gestural space. Next, phonological structure can be broken into subcomponents, such as segmental phonology, intonation contour, and metrical grid. This is the component where phonological constraints apply both within and across syllables, defined canonically in terms of consonants and vowels. The above architecture applies to both spoken and signed languages. We have made two adaptations to the architecture. The first difference is in the A–P systems. In Jackendoff’s original model, the A–P systems are obviously the auditory input system and vocal motor output. In this adaptation, the systems for signed languages are the visual input and motor output systems for the hands and nonmanuals. As outlined in a number of current sign language phonology theories (e.g. Sandler 1989; van der Hulst 1993; Brentari 1998), phonological structure in signed languages is concerned with defining the features of a sign such as handshape, orientation, location, movement, and nonmanuals like facial expressions, 16

Jackendoff (1992:33) mentions that this is one point of similarity with the theoretical framework of cognitive grammar by Fauconnier 1985; 1997; Lakoff 1987; Langacker 1987.

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eye gaze, and head tilt. Phonological structure also encodes the constraints on their combinations. While phonological structure may be modality-specific in its content, it is a self-governing system that interacts in parallel ways with other modules for both signed and spoken languages. We clarify the architecture by inserting “A–P interfaces” between phonological structure and the input and output systems. We turn to the second difference in the above adaptation: there is a “gestural space as medium” linking the conceptual structure with the articulatory– perceptual interfaces (A–P interfaces).17 Here we have in mind representational gestures. Such gestures include pointing out things (deixis) and indicating the shape and/or size of an object as well as showing spatial relations. We do not refer to other types of gesture such as pantomime or emblems like the F handshape for ‘good’ (Kendon 2000) which uses an open hand with index finger contacting the thumb. We assume that these gestures do not use the gestural space; rather the emblems, for example, would come from a list of conventionalized gestures which may vary crossculturally and which appear in both spoken and signed languages. The gestural space makes visible the relations encoded by the spatio-temporal conceptual structure.18 The gestural space is a level of representation where a given referent may be visualized as being on one side of that space. The spatiotemporal conceptual structure is different in that it provides the referents and their spatial relations, if any, but not necessarily where they are represented in the space in front of the signer. Moreover, the form at the A–P interface can be different from what is provided by the gestural space. For example, the agreement rules in signed languages permit optional subject agreement omission (Padden 1983). The referents for both subject and object may be visualized within the gestural space in particular locations, but the location of the subject does not have to be used at the A–P interface. The following figure summarizes the role of each module in the architecture. We now provide one example each from spoken and signed languages and elaborate on these roles. 14.6.2

Modality differences in the use of the gestural space

14.6.2.1 Spoken languages. The gestural space as a medium is available to both modalities but is used differently with respect to verb agreement. Several perspectives on gesture suggest that there is a fundamental distinction 17 18

Johnston (1996) has proposed a similar idea that the modality differences are due to the “medium” of the gestural space. See Aronoff et al. (2000) for a similar proposal that some morphological processes in signed languages are “iconically based” because they can show “spatial cognitive categories and relations.”


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Synactic structure REFERENTIAL INDICES i, j Articulatoryperceptual system MATCH BETWEEN REFERENTIAL INDICES i, j AND CONCEPTUALIZATION OF REFERENTS

Phonological structure UNDERSPECIFIED MORPHEME OR i, j

Conceptual structure (including spatio-temporal cognitive module) CONCEPTUALIZATION OF REFERENT

Gestural space as medium MAKING CONCEPTUALIZATION OF REFERENT VISIBLE

Figure 14.4

Making the conceptualization of referents visible

between speech and gesture and that the role of gesture is to aid speech, but none of them suggest that the role of gesture is directly correlated to verb agreement. To understand how gesture is otherwise used in spoken languages, consider McNeill’s (2000:144) Growth Point Hypothesis, which suggests that there is “an analytic unit combining imagery and linguistic categorial content.” While gesture and speech are considered separate, they are combined together under a “growth point” so that they remain tightly synchronized. Another perspective on gesture comes from Kita’s (2000:163) Information Packaging Hypothesis: “the production of a representational gesture helps speakers organize rich spatiotemporal information into packages suitable for speaking.” Thus, the role of the gestural space can be seen as an addition to the architecture of grammar for spoken languages. This role of the gestural space as an addition is one reason that the gestural space is placed as interacting with the A–P interfaces, not with phonological structure. It is not desirable to admit any phonological representation of gesture during speech, since they access different motor systems. Gesture accesses the motor system for the hands and arms, while speech accesses the motor system for the vocal cords. If the gestural space interacts directly with the hand and arm motor system at the A–P interface, there will be no conflict with the use of speech in phonological structure, which then interacts with the vocal motor system at the A–P interface.

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Let us see how this system works for a spoken word that is accompanied by a gesture, such as the Spanish word for ‘go down’ bajar accompanied by a spinning gesture to express the manner of rolling. This example is useful because Duncan (2001) has suggested that the manner gesture is not compensatory but figures in “thinking-for-speaking” about motion events in verb-framed languages like Spanish, which express less path and manner information than satellite-framed languages like English (Talmy 1985). In the syntactic structure, the verb bajar has an argument structure where only one theta role of the THEME is assigned. The noun phrase in the example is cat, which receives the theta role of the THEME as well as a referential index i. The conceptual structure envisions a cat rolling down a pipe. At the same time, the phonological structure provides the phonetic form of the subject and the correctly inflected verb as determined in the syntax: el gato baja ‘the cat goes down.’ Optionally, a spinning gesture is added from the gestural space, which makes visible the manner of rolling that is present in the conceptual structure. The addition of the gestural space depends on how much linguistic information is provided. For example, if all the information from conceptual structure is encoded in the linguistic form, there may be no need to add the use of gestural space. If some information, such as the manner of the movement present in the conceptual structure, is not encoded linguistically, gesture may be added to make the information clear to the listener, as shown above. Gesture may also help the speaker organize spatio-temporal information, for example, when giving directions over the phone (see Kita’s Information Packaging Hypothesis; Kita 2000). However gesture still does not directly aid in the expression of verb agreement in spoken languages. 14.6.2.2 Signed languages. In signed languages, the use of gestural space is significant in some contexts, e.g. verb agreement, but not in other contexts, and is constrained by specific linguistic elements. Elements from the conceptual structure are made visible through the gestural space and must go through a matching at the A–P interfaces with the linguistic elements from syntactic and phonological structures. We discuss in detail the different ways a conceptualization may be made visible, e.g. through the establishment and the use of loci because, unlike in spoken languages, the matching between loci and linguistic elements is crucial for verb agreement in signed languages. There are several strategies for the gestural space to make the conceptualizations of a referent visible: r follow the location of a physically present referent; r envision a scenario with imaginary referents; or r assign points through nominal establishment. For convenience, we refer to all these forms as “loci.” These different forms correspond to Liddell’s (1995) real, surrogate, and token space, respectively.


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However, the difference is that under a strong interpretation of Liddell’s model, there would be no “gestural space” or the “locus” at the A–P interfaces to speak of, and it would be sufficient for the conceptual structure alone to determine the form of verb agreement. Since it has been shown that this last point is not the case, the model presented here instead stresses that it is the linguistic system that must license the use of loci that are provided by the spatio-temporal conceptual structure via the gestural space. Various other complex discourse factors can determine where to establish a locus. See Aubry (2000), for example, who describes how a higher point is selected when referring to one’s boss, or Emmorey (2000), who describes how loci may be used from “shared space.” In this sense, the conceptual structure can be understood as operating within discourse structure, which can use other markers such as eye gaze, head tilt, and role shift (Bahan 1996). The role of the phonological structure in verb agreement can be seen in the different manifestations of agreement that depend on the phonetic form of the verb (see Fischer and Gough 1978; Mathur 2000; for an analysis of Auslan, see Johnston 1991). See again Table 14.4 above for a list of examples from ASL, DGS, Auslan, and NS. The phonological structure must know the phonological properties of the verb to yield the correct agreement form. There are two reasons for treating the gestural space separately from the phonetic module: r The phonetic module is not sophisticated enough to handle matching with concepts/referents, so the referents must be mediated through the gestural space; and r There is no substantive content behind the “locus” to articulate in the phonetic module: the locus can have different sizes ranging from a dot-like point to a token to a full-scale representation within the gestural space. Thus, the gestural space is not equal to the phonetic realization of loci but rather is equal to the interface between the linguistic system and the conceptual structure. If the gestural space provides loci as licensed by the linguistic system, there is no need to represent the loci phonologically. There is at any rate no substantive content behind the loci to list in a lexicon and no phonological rule to determine the choice of a particular locus. The phonology is interested in where the hands move or are oriented, not in how or why the locus is set up. The gestural space handles the “how” part, while the conceptual structure handles the “why” part. We turn now to an example from DGS that illustrates the significance of matching between gestural space and verb agreement. The verb FRAGEN ‘ask’ and two noun phrases, either null or overt, enter the syntax through numeration. The verb assigns the theta roles AGENT and PATIENT to the subject and object noun phrases respectively. Through the agreement rule, the verb’s “front” corresponds to the subject and its “back” to the object.

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In the conceptual structure, there is a conceptualization of the referents, e.g. the mother and the father. The conceptualization also includes the event of the mother’s asking the father. These referents are then made “visible” in the gestural space through assignment to particular locations: the mother on the contralateral side and the father on the ipsilateral side.19 In the phonological structure, we see the phonetic properties of the verb FRAGEN such as the lax F handshape with the palm facing the signer and a straight movement. At the A–P systems, a form of FRAGEN is freely chosen. If the form proceeds from the contralateral to the ipsilateral side, it passes because the “front” and the “back” of the sign (corresponding to the subject and object respectively) are correctly matched with the locations of the mother and the father respectively. Not all signs use the gestural space, e.g. DGS MUTTER ‘mother’ and VATER ‘father’ are articulated on the face. There are also signs that are articulated in the space in front of the signer but still do not use gestural space, such as DGS SCHWIMMEN ‘swim.’ For these signs, it is sufficient to specify in the lexicon where they are articulated. 14.6.3

Phonetic gaps in verb agreement

So far, we have used the listability issue to motivate the need for separating the linguistic component from the conceptual structure and gestural space, in agreement with Liddell. The next question is, where in the architecture do we place the gestural space? From the discussion of spoken languages, we have seen that the gestural space interacts directly with the hand and arm motor systems at the A–P interface. This avoids a potential clash with the phonological representation of speech. In the case of signed languages, if the gestural space interfaces with the phonological component, the listability problem reappears. This provides a second reason to place the gestural space as interfacing with the A–P systems instead of the phonological component. We provide one piece of evidence for this choice from “phonetic gaps.” In Mathur and Rathmann (2001), we discuss a couple of phonetic constraints affecting verb agreement that lie at the A–P interfaces. If the matching with gestural space occurs at the A–P interfaces rather than in phonological structure, one prediction is that the matching will be subject to the phonetic constraints at the A–P interfaces. A form may violate one of the phonetic constraints, leading to a “crash.” We have called these crashes “phonetic gaps.” For example, according to agreement rules, the you give us form of the ASL sign GIVE requires that the arm rotate from the elbow in such a way that the 19

See Taub (2001), who argues that the direction of the path in verb agreement is predictable from conceptual structure and other considerations. For work in a similar vein, we refer to Wilcox (2000), who is interested in the metaphorical motivations behind verbs like GIVE.


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fingertips trace an arc against the signer’s chest. However, this form does not occur.20 This is due to a phonetic constraint that bans the elbow from rotating inward (i.e. toward the body) while keeping the palm up and raising the shoulder at the same time. There are many other phonetic constraints that may interact with the agreement forms in signed languages to yield those phonetic gaps. In such cases, there are several alternatives to the expected (but phonetically barred) agreement forms, as described by Mathur and Rathmann (2001): distalization, contraction, arc deletion, and the use of auxiliary-like elements (PAM) or overt pronouns, among several others. On the other hand, such gaps do not appear in the verb agreement paradigm of spoken languages, since they do not have to match what is provided by the gestural space. Rather, as shown in Section 14.2, they vary as to whether they show null, weak, or strong agreement. Agreement morphemes may also have variants (allomorphs) that occur in certain contexts, and there will naturally be phonetic constraints on the combination of the verb stem with the agreement morpheme(s). However, these are not comparable to the “phonetic gaps” we see in signed languages. 14.7

Modality effects: Morphological processes for verb agreement

We suggest that one effect of the different uses of the gestural space is that the morphological processes for expressing verb agreement are different in the two modalities. Specifically, affixation is the most common means in spoken languages while readjustment is the preferred means in signed languages.21 14.7.1

Spoken languages

Spoken languages use morphological processes without regard to gestural space, so that there are a variety of processes. For example, as we saw in Section 14.2, there may be null agreement where nothing is added, weak agreement where phonetically null morphemes may be added along with overt morphemes for a few person–number feature combinations, and strong agreement where there is an overt affix for each combination of phi-features. The most common process for verb agreement remains one of affixation, as schematized in Figure 14.5. Affixation can be described in different ways, but regardless 20 21

In contrast, the corresponding DGS sign GEBEN has different phonetic properties. The first person multiple object form of this verb does not violate any phonetic constraints. There is an alternative approach with which no modality effect is assumed in the morphological process: the index-copying analysis by Meir (1998) and Aronoff et al. (2000), which is based on Israeli Sign Language and ASL. The advantages of this analysis vs. those of the analysis presented in this chapter deserve a thorough discussion in the future.

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base

base

af or af

Figure 14.5

+ agreement

base

or af

base

af or …

Affixation in spoken languages

of the theoretical framework adopted, the point remains that some content is added to the verb in order to express agreement. This property may constitute a substantive universal for spoken languages. Otherwise, spoken languages may vary in how the content is sequenced with respect to the verb: prefixation, suffixation, circumfixation or, in rare cases, infixation; or even a combination of these. The first three options for affixation are illustrated in Figure 14.5. 14.7.2

Signed languages

The expression of verb agreement in signed languages can be described as a readjustment process that changes the shape of the base, on analogy with English stem-internal changes (Mathur 2000), as schematized in Figure 14.6. The base consists of information about the handshape, orientation, location (if lexically specified for height), and movement if it is different from a straight movement away from the signer. The readjustment rotates the sign in such a way that the base’s “back” matches the subject index while the sign’s “front” matches the object index (Mathur 2000). The “back” and the “front” of the sign are necessarily opposite each other on a line and cannot be split into two independent affixes, so that the readjustment differs from an affixal approach under the simultaneity/sequentiality view. The different options in Figure 14.6 reflect the possible outcomes of this readjustment process for a given verb in a signed language. This readjustment is a morphological process since it marks a change in meaning, e.g. 1st.sg FRAGENnon1st.sg vs. non1st.sg FRAGEN1st.sg . It unifies different processes, e.g. changing orientation only (as in the ASL sign TEASE) or changing the direction of movement only (as in the ASL sign GIVE) or both, under a single mechanism, in parallel with spoken languages that also use only one mechanism for verb agreement.22 The readjustment then makes it possible 22

The same holds for backwards verbs as well. Meir’s (1998) analysis can predict the direction of the movement in backwards verbs; we further assume that once the direction of the movement is predicted according to the insights of Meir (1998), this direction is lexicalized as part of the lexical entry of the backwards verb.


base

b

a

s

or e

Figure 14.6

395

+ agreement

b a s e

or e

s

a

b

or …

Readjustment in signed languages

to represent any change in direction of movement at the same time as any change in orientation. This process is not found in spoken languages for the expression of verb agreement, and it is suggested that this is a true modality effect since the (syntactic) agreement rule generates a form that must be matched with the gestural space at the A–P interfaces. Evidence comes from the phonetic gaps described in the previous section, which reveal the mismatches (and therefore the interaction) between the A–P interface and the gestural space. Moreover, the matching must obey one constraint specific to agreement: the loci are no more than two in number (and, thus, opposite each other on the line formed by the loci). Verb agreement must also obey syntactic constraints based on the argument structure of the verb: it must agree with animate and inanimate concrete arguments (see Section 14.4.2.2). 14.7.3

Implications

14.7.3.1 Uniformity in form. Spoken languages may be relatively uniform in that they use the process of affixation for verb agreement, even though the content varies from one language to another, not just in the verb stem but also in the affix. On the other hand, for the expression of other functional categories like aspect and tense, spoken languages may employ a whole variety of other morphological processes such as: r reduplication (e.g. Classical Greek grapho ‘I write’ vs. gegrapha ‘I have written [perfective aspect]’); see also various languages discussed by Marantz 1982; Broselow and McCarthy 1983); r stem-internal changes (e.g. German er rennt vs. er rannte and English he runs vs. he ran); r templatic morphology (e.g. Arabic katab ‘perfective active’ vs. aktub ‘imperfective active’ for write; McCarthy 1982). It seems, then, that the relative uniformity of spoken languages with respect to verb agreement does not extend to the expression of aspect and tense.

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On the other hand, in signed languages, uniformity extends beyond verb agreement to temporal aspect and tense. For example, iterative aspect is usually expressed through reduplication and continuative aspect through lengthening and reduplication (for ASL examples, see Klima and Bellugi 1979; for British Sign Language [BSL] examples, see Sutton-Spence and Woll 1999). Moreover, tense is usually not marked through a manual modulation of the verb. It is interesting that the uniformity of verb agreement is co-present with the uniformity of temporal aspect and tense in signed languages. 14.7.3.2 Crosscategorial predictions. The architecture outlined so far also makes specific predictions about pronouns and classifiers, since they use the gestural space in signed languages. Like verb agreement, pronouns and classifiers retain their linguistic components, and it is their linguistic components that ultimately decide how they use gestural/conceptual structure. In spoken languages, pronouns do not depend on the gestural space so that there is great crosslinguistic variation in the forms and in the categories they express, such as person, number, and inclusive/exclusive (see Cormier 1998; McBurney, this volume). In signed languages, the linguistic component of pronouns varies crosslinguistically just as it does in spoken languages. In ASL, DGS, and BSL the nonpossessive pronoun uses an index finger that points to the middle of the chest; in NS, the pronoun points to the nose. Also, the possessive form takes the B hand in ASL, but takes the lax H handshape (with a twisting movement and a ‘psh’ gestural mouthing) in the dialect of DGS used in northern Germany, and the A handshape in BSL; in NS the possessive form seems to be the same as the nonpossessive form. Moreover, the syntax decides whether to use the possessive or nonpossessive form (MacLaughlin 1997). For example, if there are two noun phrases next to one another, this context calls for a possessive form for one of the noun phrases. As mentioned, pronouns must also obey syntactic principles such as binding principles (Lillo-Martin 1991). In addition, within a signed language like ASL there are various pronominal forms that do not require the use of the gestural space, for example, the demonstrative THERE. Other pronominals have special restrictions on how space may be used. For instance, there are two forms of THREE. One form has the fingertips facing up and the palm facing the signer. This form can appear with inanimate or animate noun phrases and can have an indefinite, distributive or collective reading. The other form has the palm facing up with a slight rotating movement (Baker-Shenk and Cokely 1980:370–371). This form has only a collective reading and is restricted to animate arguments.23 Another form glossed as AREA is made with the flat hand, palm down, and a slight rotating movement. This form can be used to refer to a group of people, not a single person, 23

Cormier (1998) has discussed this form with regard to inclusive/exclusive pronouns.


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and this sign may be articulated at different heights as discourse markers of one’s perceived status with respect to the referent. Specific pronouns then use those spatial locations that match their linguistic restrictions. The same argument can be made with classifiers. Spoken languages vary as to whether they have classifier constructions. If they have classifiers, they mark different kinds of information through different morphological processes such as affixation or incorporation (Allan 1977; Baker 1996; Grinevald 1999). In contrast, there is greater uniformity among the classifier constructions in signed languages. Yet they retain a linguistic component that is matched against the gestural space as seen through various linguistic constraints that they are subject to. We understand a classifier construction as a combination of two parts: a noun classifier and a MOV (movement) element (compare Supalla 1986; Schick 1990). The noun classifiers are specified for different handshapes, which vary crosslinguistically. For example, ASL uses a 3-hand for all vehicles; DGS uses the B-mid handshape for two-wheeled vehicles and the B-down handshape for vehicles with four or more wheels; while Catalan Sign Language uses many more handshapes to distinguish different types of vehicle (Fourestier 1998).24 Otherwise, the content of MOV is freely generated and matched against the path and manner of motion encoded by the spatio-temporal cognition. There are also morphemic constraints on the possible combinations of figure and ground semantic classifiers which vary crosslinguistically. In DGS and ASL the bent-V handshape is used as a classifier for a seated person or an animal. In DGS this classifier cannot be combined with the vehicle classifiers (B-mid or B-down handshape) to show a person sitting on a bike or getting into a car. In ASL the bent-V classifier may be combined with the ASL vehicle classifier (the 3 handshape) but only in a specific way: the bent-V classifier must contact the palm of the vehicle classifier. There are also syntactic constraints on classifier predicates. Semantic classifiers assign the sole thematic role of THEME, while handling classifiers assign the thematic roles of THEME and AGENT and optionally SOURCE and GOAL. Semantic classifiers cannot be combined with an AGENT argument whereas handling classifiers require this argument. 14.7.4

Recreolization

There is another possible factor behind the uniformity of verb agreement in all signed languages: recreolization (Fischer 1978; Gee and Kegl 1982; Gee and Goodhart 1988). In our view the relevant factor is the short length of the cycle of 24

The palm of the B-mid hand faces the contralateral side, while that of the B-down hand faces downward.

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recreolization, namely one or two generations, that may slow the development of verb agreement and restrict it to the use of the gestural space. The majority of the Deaf community, who are born to hearing parents, lack native input and take the process of creolization back to square one. Since they constantly outnumber the multi-generation Deaf signers who could otherwise advance the process of creolization (e.g. the case of Simon reported by Singleton and Newport 1994; Newport 2000), the cycle of recreolization is perpetuated. 14.8

Summary

Having shown various differences and similarities between the two modalities, we return to the discussion of formal and substantive universals. The two modalities share the same architecture of grammar with respect to verb agreement, with the exception that gestural space does not have the same function in spoken languages and in signed languages. Other processes within the architecture are the same crossmodally and would constitute formal universals: r the theta criterion, which requires every theta role to be discharged from the verb and every noun phrase to receive one; and r the visibility condition that every noun phrase be made visible, e.g. through case or agreement. At the level of substantive universals, there seem to be modality-specific universals. Within the spoken modality, languages vary as to whether they express agreement. When a language expresses agreement, it is usually with the person, number, and/or gender features of the subject and is expressed through affixation. Otherwise, the content of the affixation varies greatly, which adds another layer of diversity. For signed languages, there seem to be a greater number of substantive universals. All signed languages seem uniformly to express agreement, and this agreement is uniformly manifested in the same way, through readjustment. Moreover, this agreement is restricted to animate (and inanimate concrete) arguments. Finally, it is object agreement that is unmarked, and number is one phi-feature that may be expressed through overt and separate morphology. While signed languages may be uniform with respect to the form of agreement, they may vary in terms of whether an element like PAM is available in that language and licenses an additional layer of structure in the sentence. However, even when PAM is available in a signed language, PAM still undergoes the same process of readjustment as a verb that shows overt agreement. Thus, we stress that while signed languages may be uniform with respect to the form of the agreement, they vary with respect to the surface structure of the sentence. The modality-specificity of the substantive universals with respect to the form of agreement is hypothesized to arise from the different uses of the


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spatio-temporal conceptual structure as made visible by the gestural space. Since spoken languages do not require the use of the gestural space, there may be greater crosslinguistic variation in the form and pattern of agreement. On the other hand, since signed languages require the use of gestural space, there is greater uniformity with respect to the realization of verb agreement, which may in turn impact on other morphological processes and drive uniformity to a higher level. Why the gestural space is crucial in signed languages, but not in spoken languages, is a question we do not attempt to resolve here. We do know that the arms and hands permit the use of that space. Moreover, the properties of the visual system – in particular, its capacities for object recognition and motion perception – permit the hands to be tracked in space and permit handshapes to be recognized. The properties of vision, and of what is visible, may have consequences for the structure of signed languages. Recall that there seems to be obligatory agreement whenever the referent of the argument is either an animate or an inanimate concrete object, as opposed to an inanimate abstract entity. This contrast suggests that, in their use of the visual modality, signed languages may reflect whatever can be potentially visible in the world. This includes imagined and/or nonpresent objects as long as they could be seen in other situations. This is similar to what Talmy (2000) has suggested: in representing spatial relations, a signed language “connects with aspects of the visual system that govern scene-structure parsing.” If it is the case that the gestural space provides a link between spatio-temporal cognitive structure and the A–P interfaces, it seems that the conceptual and phonological/phonetic structures are linked twice: once through the syntactic component and again through the gestural space. There is a difference. The syntactic links are the primary connection between the conceptual and phonological: they are essential to language and cannot be omitted from either spoken or signed languages. The gestural space is more a follow-up to the connections that have been established by syntax, and it may be optionally not used during speech. Even in signed languages, not all grammatical processes use this gestural space. For example, wh-question formation (Petronio and LilloMartin 1997; Neidle et al. 2000), negation (Wood 1999; Pfau this volume) and other derivational processes (Aronoff et al. 2000) do not use the gestural space. If verb agreement as well as pronouns and classifiers are the main grammatical processes that use the gestural space, are they different crossmodally? Depending on where we are in the architecture of grammar, the answer can be either yes or no. It seems that modality does not have an effect at the levels of syntax and conceptual structure, whereas modality makes an impact with respect to the matching between the A–P interfaces and gestural space.

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Acknowledgments We are very grateful to the following for helpful comments on an earlier draft of the chapter: Michel deGraff, Karen Emmorey, Morris Halle, and Diane LilloMartin. Finally we thank Richard Meier for his insightful discussion and extensive comments on the chapter. All remaining errors are our own. 14.9

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Cormier, Kearsy, Steven Wechsler and Richard P. Meier. 1998. Locus agreement in American Sign Language. In Lexical and constructional aspects of linguistic explanation, ed. Gert Webelhuth, Jean-Pierre Koenig and Andreas Kathol, 215–229. Stanford, CA: CSLI Publications. Duncan, Sandra. 2001. Perspectives on the co-expressivity of speech and co-speech gestures in three languages. Paper presented at the 27th annual meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society. Ehrlenkamp, Sonja. 1999. Possessivkonstruktionen in der Deutschen Gebärdensprache: Warum die Gebärde ‘SCH’ kein Verb ist? Das Zeichen 48:274–279. Fauconnier, Gilles. 1985. Mental spaces: aspects of meaning construction in natural language. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Fauconnier, Gilles. 1997. Mappings in thought and language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fiengo, Robert and Robert May. 1994. Indices and identity. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Fischer, Susan. 1973. Two processes of reduplication in the American Sign Language. Foundations of language 9:469–480. Fischer, Susan. 1974. Sign language and linguistic universals. In Actes de Colloque Franco-Allemand de Grammaire Transformationelle, ed. Christian Rohrer and Nicholas Ruwet, 187–204. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Fischer, Susan. 1978. Sign language and creoles. In Understanding language through sign language research, ed. Patricia Siple, 309–331. New York: Academic Press. Fischer, Susan. 1996. The role of agreement and auxiliaries in sign language. Lingua 98:103–120. Fischer, Susan and Bonnie Gough. 1978. Verbs in American Sign Language. Sign Language Studies 18:17–48. Fourestier, Simone. 1998. Verben der Bewegung und Position in der Katalanischen Gebärdensprache. Magisterarbeit, Universität Hamburg. Friedman, Lynn. 1975. Space, time, and person reference in ASL. Language 51:940–961. Friedman, Lynn. 1976. The manifestation of subject, object and topic in the American Sign Language. In Subject and topic, ed. Charles Li, 125–148. New York: Academic Press. Gee, James and Wendy Goodhart. 1988. American Sign Language and the human biological capacity for language. In Language, learning and deafness, ed. Michael Strong, 49–74. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gee, James and Judy Kegl. 1982. Semantic perspicuity and the locative hypothesis: implications for acquisition. Journal of Education 164:185–209. Gee, James and Judy Kegl. 1983. Narrative/story structure, pausing and American Sign Language. Discourse Processes 6:243–258. Greenberg, Joseph. 1966. Universals of language. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Grinevald, Colette. 1999. A typology of nominal classification systems. Faits de Langues, 1999, 14:101–122. Jackendoff, Ray. 1987. Consciousness and the computational mind. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Jackendoff, Ray. 1992. Languages of the mind. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Jackendoff, Ray. 1997. The architecture of the language faculty. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Janis, Wynne. 1992. Morphosyntax of the ASL verb phrase. Doctoral dissertation, State University of New York at Buffalo.

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The effects of modality on spatial language: How signers and speakers talk about space Karen Emmorey

15.1

Introduction

Most spoken languages encode spatial relations with prepositions or locative affixes. Often there is a single grammatical element that denotes the spatial relation between a figure and ground object; for example, the English spatial preposition on indicates support and contact, as in The cup is on the table. The prepositional phrase on the table defines a spatial region in terms of a ground object (the table), and the figure (the cut) is located in that region (Talmy 2000). Spatial relations can also be expressed by compound phrases such as to the left or in back of. Both simple and compound prepositions constitute a closed class set of grammatical forms for English. In contrast, signed languages convey spatial information using so-called classifier constructions in which spatial relations are expressed by where the hands are placed in the signing space or in relationship to the body (e.g. Supalla 1982; Engberg-Pedersen 1993).1 For example, to indicate ‘The cup is on the table,’ an American Sign Language (ASL) signer would place a C classifier handshape (referring to the cup) on top of a B classifier handshape (referring to the table). There is no grammatical element specifying the figure–ground relation; rather, there is a schematic and isomorphic mapping between the location of the hands in signing space and the location of the objects described (Emmorey and Herzig in press). This chapter explores some of the ramifications of this spatialized form for how signers talk about spatial environments in conversations. 15.2

Modality effects and the nature of addressee vs. speaker perspective in spatial descriptions

Figure 15.1a provides a simple example of an ASL spatial description. An English translation of this example would be I entered the room. There was a table to the left. In this type of narrative, the spatial description is from the point of view of the speaker (for simplicity and clarity, “speaker” is used to refer to 1

The status of handshape as a classifier in these constructions has been recently called into question (see chapters in Emmorey, in press).

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(a) Speaker’s perspective

I-ENTER

TABLE

THERE CL: C (2h)

TABLE

THERE CL: C (2h)

(b) Addressee’s perspective

YOU-ENTER

(c)

entrance Figure 15.1 Illustration of ASL descriptions of the location of a table within a room, described from: 15.1a the speaker’s perspective; or 15.1b the addressee’s perspective. Signers exhibit better comprehension for room descriptions presented from the speaker’s perspective, despite the mental transformation that this description entails; 15.1c Position of the table described in (a) and (b)

the person who is signing in these conversational contexts). The addressee, if facing the speaker, must perform a mental transformation of signing space. For example, in Figure 15.1a the speaker indicates that the table is to the left by articulating the appropriate classifier sign on his left in signing space. Because the addressee is facing the speaker, the location of the classifier form representing the table is in fact to the right for the addressee. There is a mismatch between

The effects of modality on spatial language

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the location of the table in the room being described (the table is on the left as seen from the entrance) and what the addressee observes in signing space (the classifier handshape referring to the table is produced to the addressee’s right). In this case, the addressee must perform what amounts to a 180◦ mental rotation to correctly comprehend the description. Although spatial scenes are most commonly described from the speaker’s point of view (as in Figure 15.1a), it is possible to indicate a different viewpoint. ASL has a marked sign that can be glossed as YOU-ENTER, which indicates that the scene should be understood as signed from the addressee’s viewpoint (see Figure 15.1b). When this sign is used, the signing space in which the room is described is, in effect, rotated 180◦ so that the addressee is “at the entrance” of the room. In this case, the addressee does not need to mentally transform locations within signing space. However, ASL descriptions using YOU-ENTER are quite unusual and rarely found in natural discourse. Furthermore, Emmorey, Klima, and Hickok (1998) found that ASL signers comprehended spatial descriptions much better when they were produced from the speaker’s point of view compared to the addressee’s viewpoint. In that study, signers viewed a videotape of a room and then a signed description and were asked to judge whether the room and the description matched. When the room was described from the addressee’s perspective (using YOU-ENTER), the description spatially matched the room layout shown on the videotape, but when signed from the speaker’s perspective (using I-ENTER), the description was the reverse of the layout on the videotape (a simplified example is shown in Figure 15.1). Emmorey et al. (1998) found that ASL signers were more accurate when presented with descriptions from the speaker’s perspective, despite the mental transformation that these descriptions entailed. One might consider this situation analogous to that for English speakers who must understand the terms left and right with respect to the speaker’s point of view (as in on my left). The crucial difference, however, is that these relations are encoded spatially in ASL, rather than lexically. The distinction becomes particularly clear in situations where the speaker and the addressee are both in the environment, observing the same scene. In this situation, English speakers most often adopt their addressee’s point of view, for example giving directions such as, pick the one on your right, or it’s in front of you, rather than pick the one on my left or it’s farthest from me (Schober 1993; Mainwaring, Tversky, and Schiano 1996). However, when jointly viewing an environment, ASL signers do not adopt their addressee’s point of view but use what I term “shared space” (Emmorey 2002). Figure 15.2 provides an illustration of what is meant by shared space. In the situation depicted, the speaker and addressee are facing each other, and between them are two boxes. Suppose the box on the speaker’s left is the one that he (or she) wants shipped. If the speaker uses signing space (rather than just pointing to the actual box), he would indicate the box to be

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(a) Shared Space Addressee

X

(b) * Addressee viewpoint Addressee

X

X

Speaker

X

Speaker

Figure 15.2 Illustration of a speaker using: 15.2a shared space; and 15.2b using the addressee’s spatial viewpoint to indicate the location of the box marked with an “X” (the asterisk indicates that signers reject this type of description). By convention, the half circle represents the signing space in front of the signer. The “X” represents the location of the classifier sign used to represent the target box (e.g., a hooked 5 handshape)

shipped by placing the appropriate classifier sign on the left side of signing space. Note that, in this situation, no mental transformation is required by the addressee. Instead, the speaker’s signing space is simply “mapped” onto the jointly observed physical space: the left side of the speaker’s signing space maps directly to the actual box on the right side of the addressee. In contrast, if the speaker were to adopt the addressee’s point of view, producing the classifier sign on his right, the location in signing space would conflict with the location of the target box observed by the addressee. Note that it is not impossible to adopt the addressee’s viewpoint when physical space is jointly observed by both interlocutors. For example, the speaker could describe an action of the addressee. In this case, the speaker would indicate a referential shift through a break in eye gaze, and within the referential shift the signer could sign LIFT-BOX using a handling classifier construction articulated toward the right of signing space. The signing space in this case would reflect the addressee’s view of the environment (i.e. the box is to the addressee’s right). In general, however, for situations in which the signer and addressee are both observing and discussing a jointly viewed physical environment, there is no true speaker vs. addressee point of view in signed descriptions of that environment (Emmorey 1998; Emmorey and Tversky, in press). The signing


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space is “shared” in the sense that it maps to the physically observed space and to both the speaker’s and addressee’s view of the physical space. Furthermore, the signer’s description of the box would be the same regardless of where the addressee happened to be standing (e.g. placing the addressee to the signer’s left in Figure 15.2, would not alter the signer’s description or the nature of the mapping from signed space to physical space). Thus, in this situation, ASL signers do not need to take into account where their addressee is located, unlike English speakers who tend to adopt their addressee’s viewpoint. This difference between languages derives from the fact that signers use the actual space in front of them to represent observed physical space. In sum, language modality impacts the interpretation and nature of speaker and addressee perspectives for spatial descriptions. For descriptions of nonpresent environments in ASL, an addressee must mentally transform the locations within a speaker’s signing space in order to correctly understand the left–right arrangements of objects with respect to the speaker’s viewpoint. For speech, spatial information is encoded in an acoustic signal, which bears no resemblance to the spatial scene described. An English speaker describing the room in Figure 15.1 might say either You enter the room, and a table is to your left or I enter the room, and a table is to my left. Neither description requires any sort of mental transformation on the part of the addressee because the relevant information is encoded in speech rather than in space. 2 However, when English speakers and addressees discuss a jointly viewed scene, an addressee may need to perform a type of mental transformation if the speaker describes a spatial location from his or her viewpoint. For example, if the speaker says Pick the box on my left for the situation depicted in Figure 15.2, the addressee must understand that the desired box is on his or her right. Again, this situation differs for signers because the speaker’s signing space maps to the observed physical space and to the addressee’s view of that space. Signing space is shared, and no mental transformation is required by the addressee. For the situations discussed thus far, the speaker produced monologue descriptions of environments (e.g. describing room layouts, as illustrated in Figure 15.1) or the speaker described a jointly viewed environment (as illustrated in Figure 15.2). In the study reported in Section 15.4, I explore the 2

If an English speaker describes a situation in which the addressee is placed within the room (e.g. You are at the back of the room facing the door, and when I walked in I noticed a table on my left), then the addressee would indeed need to perform some type of mental transformation to understand the location of the table with respect to his or her viewpoint (i.e. the table is on the addressee’s right). However, for spatial descriptions that do not involve the addressee as part of the environment, no such mental transformation would be required. For the description and room matching task used by Emmorey et al. (1998), it would make no difference whether the speaker described the room from her perspective (using I ) or from the addressee’s perspective (using you). For ASL, however, the placement of classifier signs within signing space changes depending upon whether the room description is introduced with YOU-ENTER or I-ENTER (see Figure 15.1).

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situation in which two signers converse about a spatial scene that they are not currently observing, focusing on how the addressee refers to and interprets locations within the speaker’s signing space. First, however, I examine the different ways that signing space can be structured when describing a spatial environment and how English speakers and ASL signers sometimes differ in their choice of spatial perspective. 15.3

Spatial formats and route vs. survey perspective choice

When English speakers describe environments, they often take their listener on a mental tour, adopting a “route” perspective, but they may also adopt a “survey” perspective, describing the environment from a bird’s eye view, using cardinal direction terms (Taylor and Tversky 1992; 1996). Route and survey perspectives differ with respect to: r point of view: moving within the scene vs. fixed above the scene; r reference object: the addressee vs. another object/landmark; and r reference terms: right–left–front–back vs. north–south–east–west. Route and survey perspectives also correspond to two natural ways of experiencing an environment (Emmorey, Tversky, and Taylor 2000). A route perspective corresponds to experiencing an environment from within, by navigating it, and a survey perspective corresponds to viewing an environment from a single outside position. The following are English examples from Linde and Labov’s (1975) study of New Yorkers’ descriptions of their apartments: Route perspective: As you open the door, you are in a small five-by-five room which is a small closet. When you get past there, you’re in what we call the foyer . . . If you keep walking in that same direction, you’re confronted by two rooms in front of you . . . a large living room which is about twelve by twenty on the left side. And on the right side, straight ahead of you again, is a dining room which is not too big . . . (p. 929). Survey perspective: The main entrance opens into a medium-sized foyer. Leading off the foyer is an archway to the living room which is the furthermost west room in the apartment. It’s connected to a large dining room through double sliding doors. The dining room also connects with the foyer and main hall through two small arches. The rest of the rooms in the apartment all lead off this main hall which runs in an east–west direction (p. 927).

Emmorey and Falgier (1999) found that ASL signers also adopt either a route or survey perspective when describing environments, and that signers structure signing space differentially, depending upon perspective choice. We found that if signers adopted a survey perspective when describing an environment, they most often used a diagrammatic spatial format, but when a route perspective was adopted, they most often used a viewer spatial format. The term spatial format


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Table 15.1 Properties associated with spatial formats in ASL Diagrammatic space

Viewer space

Signing space represents a map-like model of the environment.

Signing space reflects an individual’s view of the environment at a particular point in time and space. Signing space is 3-D.

Space can have either a 2-D “map” or a 3-D “model” format. The vantage point does not change (generally a bird’s eye view). Relatively low horizontal signing space or a vertical plane.

The vantage point can change. Relatively high horizontal signing space.

Source: Emmorey 2002

refers to the topographic structure of signing space used to express locations and spatial relations between objects. Table 15.1 summarizes the properties associated with each spatial format. Diagrammatic space is somewhat analogous to Liddell’s notion of “token space” (Liddell 1994; 1995) and to Schick’s (1990) “model space.” Model space is characterized as “an abstract, Model scale in which all objects are construed as miniatures of their actual referents” (Schick 1990:32). Liddell (1995:33) describes tokens as “conceptual entities given a manifestation in physical space,” and states that “the space tokens inhabit is limited to the size of physical space ahead of the signer in which the hands may be located while signing.” Diagrammatic space is also so limited, and under Liddell’s analysis signers could conceptualize tokens as representing objects and landmarks within a description of an environment. However, tokens are hypothesized to be three-dimensional entities, whereas the data from Emmorey and Falgier (1999) contained some examples in which the spatial format was two dimensional, representing a map with points and lines. Viewer space is similar to “surrogate space” described by Liddell (1994; 1995) and “real-world space” described by Schick (1990). The term “real-world space” is problematic because it implies the actual physical space surrounding the signer. It is important to distinguish between “real” space and viewer space because in the first case the signer actually sees the environment being described, and in the second the environment is conceptualized as present and observable (see also Liddell 1995). According to Liddell (1994) surrogates are characterized as invisible, normal-sized entities with body features (head to toe), and they are conceptualized as in the environment. When signers adopt a route perspective to describe an environment, the signer describes the environment

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as if he or she were actually moving through it. Under Liddell’s analysis, the surrogate within this type of description coincides with the signer’s body (i.e. it occupies the same physical space as the signer’s body). The term viewer space, rather than surrogate space, may be preferred for the type of spatial descriptions discussed here because it is the environment, rather than a surrogate, which is conceptualized as present. Spatial formats can be determined independently of the type of perspective chosen to describe an environment. For example, route perspectives are characterized by movement through an environment, but motion verbs can be produced within a viewer spatial format (e.g. DRIVE-TO) or within a diagrammatic spatial format (e.g. a classifier construction meaning ‘vehicle moves straight and turns’). Survey perspectives are characterized by the use of cardinal direction terms, but these terms can also be produced within either a viewer spatial format (e.g. the sign EAST produced outward from the signer at eye level to indicate ‘you go straight east’) or within a diagrammatic spatial format (e.g. the sign NORTH produced along a path that coincides with a road traced in signing space, indicating that the road runs to the north). Although perspective choice can be determined independently of spatial format, diagrammatic space is clearly preferred for survey descriptions, and viewer space is clearly preferred for route descriptions. Emmorey and Falgier (1999) found that ASL signers did not make the same perspective choices as English speakers when describing spatial environments learned from a map. ASL signers were much more likely to adopt a survey perspective compared to English speakers. We hypothesized that ASL signers may have been more affected by the way the spatial information was acquired, i.e. via a map rather than via navigation. A mental representation of a map is more easily expressed using diagrammatic space, and this spatial format is more compatible with a survey perspective of the environment. English speakers were not subject to such linguistic influences and preferred to adopt a route perspective when describing environments with a single path and landmarks of similar size (specifically, the layout of a convention center). Thus, language modality appears to influence the choice of spatial perspective. For signers, diagrammatic signing space can be used effectively to represent a map, thus biasing signers toward adopting a survey perspective where English speakers would prefer a route perspective. However, signers do not always adopt a survey perspective for spatial descriptions. Pilot data suggest that signers often produce route descriptions for environments they have learned by navigation. Language modality may have its strongest impact on the nature of spatial perspective choice when knowledge of that environment is acquired from a map. We now turn from studies of narrative spatial descriptions to a study that explores the nature of spatial conversations in ASL.


15.4

413

How speakers and addressees interpret signing space: Reversed space, mirrored space, and shared space

The study reported in this chapter investigates how addressees and speakers interpret signing space when conversing about an environment. Pairs of signers were recruited, and one participant was given the town map used by Emmorey and Falgier (1999); see Figure 15.3. This participant was asked to describe the town such that his or her partner could subsequently reproduce the map. TOWN White Mountains

Mountain Road

White River Store

Park School

Town Hall

Gazebo Maple Street

Gas station

River Highway N E

W S

Figure 15.3

Map of the town (from Tversky and Taylor 1992)

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Eleven pairs of fluent ASL signers participated in the study. For three of the pairs, the signer who described the town had previously described it to another participant in a separate session. Since we were primarily concerned with how the addressee structured signing space, it was not critical that speaker be naive to the task of explaining the layout of the town. The addressee could ask questions throughout the speaker’s description, and the participants faced each other during the task. Subjects were tested either at Gallaudet University in Washington, DC or at The Salk Institute in San Diego, CA. Sixteen subjects had Deaf parents, two subjects had hearing parents and were exposed to ASL prior to the age of three, and one subject learned ASL in junior high school (her earlier exposure was to SEE). As noted, the previous research by Emmorey and Falgier (1999) indicates that ASL signers tend to produce descriptions of the town from a survey perspective, rather than from a route perspective, and this was true for the speakers in this study: nine speakers produced a survey description, two speakers produced a mixed description (part of the description was from a survey perspective and part was from a route perspective), and no speaker produced a pure route description of the town. Given that the addressee’s task was to draw a map, the speaker’s use of diagrammatic space was sensible because this spatial format allows a large number of landmarks to be schematically mapped onto signing space, and diagrammatic space can easily be transformed into a map representation. In what follows, I focus on how the addressee referred to the speaker’s signing space when asking a question or when commenting upon the description. All addressees used a diagrammatic spatial format when re-describing the town. The results revealed that all but one of the addressees performed a mental reversal of observed signing space when re-describing the town or asking a question. For example, if the speaker indicated that Maple Street looped to the left (observed as motion to the right for the addressee), the addressee would trace the Maple Street loop to his or her left in signing space. It was rare for an addressee to mirror the speaker’s space, e.g. by tracing Maple Street to the right (see below). Addressees also used a type of shared space by pointing toward a location within the speaker’s space to ask a question or comment about the landmark associated with that location. Figure 15.4 illustrates these different possibilities. As discussed earlier, when the addressee reverses the speaker’s signing space, he or she must perform what amounts to a 180◦ mental rotation (see Figure 15.4a). However, the nature of this mental transformation is not completely clear. The intuitions of native signers suggest that they probably do not mentally rotate locations within the speaker’s signing space. Rather, addressees report that they “instantly” (intuitively) know how to interpret locations in the speaker’s signing space. They do not experience a sensation of rotating a mental image of the scene or landmarks within the scene. How then, do addressees transform observed signing space into a reversed mental representation of that


(a) Reversed space Speaker

415

(b) Mirrored space Speaker

X

X X

Addressee (ii)

Speaker

X

Addressee (c) Shared space (i) Speaker

X

X

Addressee Addressee Figure 15.4 Illustration of: 15.4a reversed space; 15.4b mirrored space; and 15.4c two examples of the use of shared space for non-present referents. The half circles represent signing space, the solid arrow represents the direction of the Maple Street loop, and the “X” represents the location of the Town Hall with respect to Maple Street. The dotted arrow in example (i) of 15.4c indicates the direction of a pointing sign used by the addressee to refer to the Town Hall

space? One possibility is that addressees comprehend ASL spatial descriptions as if they were producing the description themselves. One mechanism for this transformation might be that addressees encode spatial relations by mentally imagining themselves at the speaker’s position, perhaps a form of self-rotation. Another mechanism might involve a “motor theory of sign perception” at the sentence level. Under this explanation, signers perform a transformation of the perceived articulation into a reversed representation of their own production (assuming both speaker and addressee are right handed).

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Evidence for signers’ superior ability to reverse perceived articulation is suggested by the results of Masataka (1995). He found that native signing Japanese children exhibited an enhanced ability to conduct perception-to-production transformations involving mirror reversals, compared to their hearing peers. Masataka’s study was based on the common finding that a figure (such as letter) drawn on the forehead or back of the hand is perceived tactilely by subjects as a mirror reversal of the experimenter-defined stimulus. Masataka found that Deaf signing Japanese children did not show such a mirror-reversal tendency, unlike their hearing peers. That is, when a “p” was written on a particular body surface, signing children overwhelmingly chose “p” as a matching response, whereas hearing children were three times more likely to choose the mirrorreversed “q” response. The signing children were apparently more skilled at mentally transforming a tactilely perceived pattern into the movement pattern that was used to create it. Furthermore, Masataka presented evidence that this ability was language linked: the larger the child’s vocabulary, the better the performance. Further research will help to determine whether signers perform a type of self rotation (“putting themselves in the speaker’s shoes”) or conduct a form of “analysis-by-synthesis” in which perceived articulations are transformed into sign production. Although most addressees reversed signing space during the interactions, we found two examples of mirrored space (see Figure 15.4b). In one example, mirroring the speaker’s signing space led to a left–right error in comprehension. The addressee mirrored the direction of Maple Street when re-describing that part of the town, and then drew the map with Maple Street incorrectly looping to the right. In a different type of example, the speaker specifically told his addressee that he would describe the map of the town from the addressee’s point of view (as if the addressee were looking at the map on a blackboard).3 Thus, the speaker reversed the left–right locations of landmarks, which was very difficult for him, and he made several errors. When the addressee re-described the town, he did not reverse the speaker’s signing space, but correctly mirrored the speaker’s space. Mirrored space was correct in this case because the speaker had already reversed the spatial locations for his addressee. Figure 15.4c provides two illustrations of the use of shared space produced by three of the participants. Example (i) illustrates the situation in which the addressee used a pronoun or classifier sign to refer to a location (or associated referent) within the speaker’s signing space (indicated by the dotted arrow in the figure). Such shared space is common for nonspatial discourse when an addressee points toward a location in the speaker’s space in order to refer to the referent associated with that location. For example, if the referent “John” 3

Such a mirrored description is akin to producing a room description using YOU-ENTER, as illustrated in Figure 15.1b.


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has been associated with a location on the speaker’s right, then the addressee may direct a pronoun toward this location, which is on his or her left, to refer to John (compare Figure 3.4 in Neidle, Kegl, MacLaughlin, Bahan, and Lee 2000). However, when the speaker’s signing space is structured topographically to represent the location of several landmarks, the addressee generally reverses the speaker’s space, as shown in Figure 15.4a. Such reversals do not occur for nonspatial conversations because the topography of signing space is not generally complex and does not convey a spatial viewpoint. Example (ii) in Figure 15.4c illustrates an example of shared space in which the signing spaces for the addressee and speaker overlap. For example, in one situation, two signers sat across from each other at a table, and the speaker described the layout of the town by signing on the tabletop, e.g. tracing the location of streets on the table. The addressee then used classifier constructions and pronouns articulated on the table to refer to locations and landmarks in the town with the same spatial locations on the table: thus, the signing spaces of the speaker and addressee physically overlapped. In another similar example, two signers (who were best friends) swiveled their chairs during the conversation so that they were seated side-by-side. The addressee then moved her hands into the speaker’s space in order to refer to landmarks and locations, even while her partner was still signing! This last example was rare, with both signers finding such “very shared space” amusing. Physically overlapping shared space may be possible only when there is an object, such as a table, to ground signing space in the real world or when signers know each other very well. For one pair of signers, the speaker clearly attempted to use overlapping shared space with his addressee, but she adamantly maintained a separate signing space. ¨ urek (2000) uses the term “shared space” to refer to the gesture space Ozy¨ ¨ urek focuses on how shared between spoken language users. However, Ozy¨ the speaker changes his or her gestures depending upon the location of the addressee. When narrators described “in” or “out” spatial relations (e.g. ‘Sylvester flies out of the window’), their gestures moved along a front–back axis when the addressee was facing the speaker, but speakers moved their gestures later¨ urek argues that speakers prefer ally when the addressee was to the side. Ozy¨ gestures along these particular axes so that they can move their gestures into or out of a space shared with the addressee. In contrast, shared space as defined here for ASL is not affected by the spatial position of the addressee, and signers do not alter the directionality of signs depending upon where their addressee is located. For example, OUT is signed with motion along the horizontal axis (outward from the signer), regardless of the location of the addressee. The direction of motion can be altered to refer explicitly to the addressee (e.g. to express ‘the two of us are going out’) or to refer to a specific location within signing space (e.g. to indicate the location of an exit). The direction of motion for OUT (or for other directional signs) is not affected by the location of the addressee, unless

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the signs specifically refer to the addressee. The use of shared space in ASL occurs when the speaker’s signing space maps to his or her view of the spatial layout of physically present objects (as in Figure 15.2) or to a mental image of the locations of nonpresent objects (as in Figure 15.4c). The addressee shares the speaker’s signing space either because it maps to the addressee’s view of present objects or because the addressee uses the same locations within the signer’s space to refer to nonpresent objects. Furuyama (2000) presents a study in which hearing subjects produced collaborative gestures within a shared gesture space, which appears to be similar to shared space in ASL. In this study, a speaker (the instructor) explained how to create an origami figure to a listener (the learner), but the instructor had to describe the paper-folding steps without using a piece of origami paper for demonstration. Similar to the use of shared space in signed conversations, Furuyama found that learners pointed toward the gestures of their instructor or toward “an ‘object’ seemingly set up in the air by the instructor with a gesture” (Furuyama 2000:105). Furthermore, the gesture spaces of the two participants could physically overlap. For example, learners sometimes referred to the instructor’s gesture by producing a gesture near (or even touching) the instructor’s hand. In addition, the surface of a table could ground the gesture space, such that instructors and learners produced gestures within the same physical space on the table top. These examples all parallel the use of shared space in ASL depicted in Figure 15.4c. Finally, the use of shared space is independent of the spatial format used to describe an environment. All of the examples in this study involved diagrammatic space, but it is also possible for viewer space to be shared. For example, suppose a speaker uses viewer space to describe where she wants to place a new sofa in her living room (i.e. the spatial description is as if she were in the room). Her addressee may refer to the sofa by pointing to its associated location in the speaker’s space, for example, signing the equivalent of, ‘No, move it over toward that side of the room.’ 15.5

Summary and conclusions

The results of the studies discussed here reveal the effects of modality on spatial language in several ways. First, the spatialization of linguistic expression in ASL affects the nature of language comprehension by requiring an addressee to perform a mental transformation of the linguistic space under certain conditions. Specifically, when a speaker describes a nonpresent environment, an addressee facing the speaker needs to understand that a location observed on his or her right is actually located to the left in the described environment. The spatial transformation in which locations in the speaker’s signing space are “reversed” by an addressee is simply not required for understanding spoken language


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descriptions. Second, results from Emmorey and Falgier (1999) suggest that language modality may influence choice of spatial perspective. The ease with which diagrammatic space can express information learned from a map may explain the preference of ASL signers for spatial descriptions with a survey perspective. In contrast, nothing about the linguistic structure of English leads to a preference for a route or a survey perspective when the environment has been learned from a map. Rather, English speakers were more influenced by the nature of the environment, preferring a route description for the environment that contained a single path and landmarks of similar size (Taylor and Tversky 1992; Emmorey, Tversky, and Taylor 2000). Finally, unlike English speakers, ASL signers can use shared space, rather than adopt their addressee’s point of view. English speakers generally need to take into account where their addressee is located because spatial descriptions are most often given from the addressee’s point of view (‘It’s on your left’ or ‘It’s in front of you’). In ASL, there may be no true speaker or addressee viewpoint, particularly when the signers are discussing a jointly viewed scene (as illustrated in Figure 15.2). Furthermore, addressees can refer directly to locations in the speaker’s space (as illustrated in Figure 15.4c). When shared space is used, speakers and addressees can refer to the same locations in signing space, regardless of the position of the addressee. Thus, the interface between language and visual perception (how we talk about what we see) has an added dimension for signers (they also see what they talk about). That is, signers see (rather than hear) spatial descriptions, and there is a schematic isomorphism between aspects of the linguistic signal (the location of the hands in signing space) and aspects of the spatial scene described (the location of objects in the described space). Signers must integrate a visually observed linguistic signal with a visually observed environment or a visual image of the described environment. The studies discussed here represent an attempt to understand how signers accomplish this task. Acknowledgments This work was supported in part by a grant from the National Institutes of Health (NICHD RO1-13249) and from the National Science Foundation (SBR9809002). I thank Robin Thompson and Melissa Herzig for help in data analysis, and I thank Richard Meier, Elisabeth Engberg-Pedersen, and an anonymous reviewer for helpful comments on this chapter. 15.6

References

Emmorey, Karen. 1998. Some consequences of using signing space to represent physical space. Keynote address at the Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Research meeting, November, Washington, DC.

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Emmorey, Karen. 2002. Language, cognition, and brain: Insights from sign language research. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Emmorey, Karen. In press. Perspectives on classifier constructions in signed languages. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Emmorey, Karen, and Brenda Falgier. 1999. Talking about space with space: Describing environments in ASL. In Storytelling and conversations: Discourse in Deaf communities, ed. Elizabeth A. Winston, 3–26. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Emmorey, Karen, and Melissa Herzig. In press. Categorical versus analogue properties of classifier constructions in ASL. In Perspectives on classifier constructions in sign languages, ed. Karen Emmorey. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Emmorey, Karen, Edward S. Klima, and Gregory Hickok. 1998. Mental rotation within linguistic and nonlinguistic domains in users of American Sign Language. Cognition 68:221–246. Emmorey, Karen and Barbara Tversky. In press. Spatial perspective in ASL. Sign Language and Linguistics. Emmorey, Karen, Barbara Tversky, and Holly A. Taylor. 2000. Using space to describe space: Perspective in speech, sign, and gesture. Spatial Cognition and Computation 2:157–180. Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth. 1993. Space in Danish Sign Language: The semantics and morphosyntax of the use of space in a visual language. International studies on sign language research and communication of the deaf, Vol. 19. Hamburg: SignumVerlag. Furuyama, Nobuhiro. 2000. Gestural interaction between the instructor and the learner in origami instruction. In Language and gesture, ed. David McNeill, 99–117. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Liddell, Scott. 1994. Tokens and surrogates. In Perspectives on sign language structure: Papers from the 5th International Symposium on Sign Language Research, Vol. 1, ed. Inger Ahlgren, Brita Bergman, and Mary Brennan, 105–19. Durham: The International Sign Language Association, University of Durham. Liddell, Scott. 1995. Real, surrogate, and token space: Grammatical consequences in ASL. In Language, gesture, and space, ed. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 19–41. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Linde, Charlotte, and William Labov. 1975. Spatial networks as a site for the study of language and thought. Language 51:924–939. Mainwaring, Scott, Barbara Tversky, and Diane J. Schiano. 1996. Perspective choice in spatial descriptions. IRC Technical Report, 1996–06. Palo Alto, CA: Interval Research Corporation. Masataka, Nobuo. 1995. Absence of mirror-reversal tendency in cutaneous pattern perception and acquisition of a signed language in deaf children. Journal of Developmental Psychology 13:97–106. Neidle, Carol, Judy Kegl, Dawn MacLaughlin, Benjamin Bahan, and Robert G. Lee. 2000. The syntax of American Sign Language: Functional categories and hierarchical structure. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. ¨ urek, Asli. 2000. The influence of addressee location on speaker’s spatial language Ozy¨ and representational gestures of direction. In Language and gesture, ed. David McNeill, 64–83. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.


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Schick, Brenda. 1990. Classifier predicates in American Sign Language. International Journal of Sign Linguistics 1:15–40. Schober, Michael F. 1993. Spatial perspective-taking in conversation. Cognition 47: 1–24. Supalla, Ted. 1982. Structure and acquisition of verbs of motion and location in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. Talmy, Leonard. 2000. How language structures space. Toward a cognitive semantics, Vol. 1: Concept structuring systems. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Taylor, Holly A., and Barbara Tversky. 1992. Spatial mental models derived from survey and route descriptions. Journal of Memory and Language 31:261–292. Taylor, Holly A., and Barbara Tversky. 1996. Perspective in spatial descriptions. Journal of Memory and Language 35:371–391.

16

The effects of modality on BSL development in an exceptional learner Gary Morgan, Neil Smith, Ianthi Tsimpli, and Bencie Woll

16.1

Introduction

This chapter reports on the findings of an experiment into the learning of British Sign Language (BSL) by Christopher, a linguistic savant, and a control group of talented second language learners. The results from tests of comprehension and production of morphology and syntax, together with observations of his conversational abilities and judgments of grammaticality, indicate that despite his dyspraxia and visuo-spatial impairments, Christopher approaches the task of learning BSL in a way largely comparable to that in which he has learned spoken languages. However, his learning of BSL is not uniformly successful. Although Christopher approaches BSL as linguistic input, rather than purely visuo-spatial information, he fails to learn completely those parts of BSL for which an intact nonlinguistic visuo-spatial domain is required (e.g. the BSL classifier system). The unevenness of his learning supports the view that only some parts of language are modality-free. Accordingly, this case illuminates crossmodality issues, in particular, the relationship of sign language structures and visuo-spatial skills. By exploring features of Christopher’s signing and comparing it to normal sign learners, new insights can be gained into linguistic structures on the one hand and the cognitive prerequisites for the processing of signed language on the other. In earlier work (see Smith and Tsimpli 1995 and references therein; also Tsimpli and Smith 1995; 1998; Smith 1996; Smith and Tsimpli 1996; 1997; Morgan, Smith, Tsimpli, and Woll 2002), we have documented the unique language learning abilities of a polyglot savant, Christopher (date of birth: January, 6 1962). Christopher exhibits a striking dissociation between his linguistic and nonlinguistic abilities. Despite living in sheltered accommodation because his limited cognitive abilities make him unable to look after himself, Christopher can read, write, translate, and speak (with varying degrees of fluency) some 20 to 25 languages. This linguistic ability is in sharp contrast with his general intellectual and physical impairments. Due to a limb apraxia (a motor disorder which makes the articulation of planned movements of the arms and hands difficult or impossible), he has difficulty with everyday activities such as 422

BSL development in an exceptional learner

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shaving, doing up buttons, cutting his fingernails, or hanging cups on hooks. Apraxia is tied to damage to cortical regions that send input to the primary motor cortex (Kimura 1993). Additionally, Christopher has a visuo-spatial deficit, which makes finding his way around difficult. Although Christopher is quite shortsighted and (probably) astigmatic, his prowess at comprehension of BSL fingerspelling shows that this condition has minimal affect on his ability to understand sign. Fingerspelling is made up of small, rapid movements of the fingers and hands, in a relatively restricted space. Christopher was almost perfect in his recognition of fingerspelled names produced at normal signing speed, indicating that he should be able to see the details of normal signing without difficulty. Lastly, Christopher presents some of the key features of social communication deficit associated with autism: he avoids engagement with his interlocutor, preferring instead to use single words or prepared sentences, avoids eye contact and often understands only the “literal” meaning of a conversational exchange (Smith and Tsimpli 1995; Tsimpli and Smith 1998). In this chapter we deal specifically with the linguistic aspects of Christopher’s learning of BSL while making note of the influence of his limb apraxia and autism. We explore in more detail the role of apraxia and autism in his learning of BSL in Morgan, Smith, Tsimpli and Woll (in preparation a). Apart from the dissociation between his “verbal” and “performance” abilities, Christopher also shows marked dissociations within his linguistic talent. His acquisition of the morphology and lexicon of new languages is extremely rapid and proficient, whereas his acquisition of syntactic patterns different from his first language appears to reach a plateau beyond which he is unable to proceed. Smith and Tsimpli (1995) have argued that this asymmetry reflects the distinction between those aspects of language acquisition which involve parameter setting and those which are dependent on either nonparametrized parts of Universal Grammar (UG) or on the central system(s). In a Fodorian framework (see Fodor 1983), human cognition is divided among a number of modular input systems, corresponding to the senses and language, and the nonmodular central system, responsible for rational behavior, puzzle-solving and the “fixation of belief.” Whereas Fodor himself is sceptical about the possibility of any scientific investigation of the central system, we have argued (Tsimpli and Smith 1998) that it too is structured, consisting of a number of “quasi-modules,” for theory of mind, music, moral judgment, etc. The language faculty has both modular and quasi-modular properties. Parameter re-setting is taken to be impossible (see also Tsimpli and Smith 1991), but the role of UG in second language acquisition is otherwise pervasive. The dissociations already documented suggest that BSL should provide an interesting test arena for Christopher: will his linguistic prowess compensate for his visuo-motor deficits in the context of a signed language, or will these

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disabilities preclude his acquisition of BSL? Assuming that he displays some ability to learn BSL, will his mastery of the language show the same linguistic asymmetries as are seen in his spoken languages? 16.2

The challenge for Christopher

The most obvious difference between BSL and the other languages Christopher has encountered is the modality in which it is produced. Signs are articulated through co-ordinated limb, torso, head, and facial movements in complex spatial arrays and, as communication is necessarily face to face, looking at the interlocutor while he or she is signing is the only means of access to linguistic information. In both production and perception, signers have to make use of configurations of movements and spatial information, and they have to be aware of their interlocutor’s visual attention. As we shall see, basic perceptual and articulatory processes, as well as higherorder ones (morphological, syntactic, and semantic and even paralinguistic), are integrated in the performance of normal signers of BSL, in that all of them involve the necessity of looking at the face and movements of the interlocutor to receive linguistic information (for a comparable description of American Sign Language, see Neidle et al. 2000). Accordingly, BSL provides Christopher with a new challenge, as it combines several aspects of behavior with which he has severe problems in the nonlinguistic domain with these behaviors now recruited for linguistic and communicative functions. A less obvious, but crucial, consideration is that learners of BSL (or any signed language) are faced with the fact that it has no commonly used written script. Except for his native first language, English, all of Christopher’s previous languages have been taught and acquired, at least in part, on the basis of a written input, using books, newspapers, and grammars. Even in English, the written word constitutes a major part of the input to him, and it is clear that he is obsessed with the written word, sometimes to the exclusion of spoken language. This lack of a written system constituted a major hurdle for Christopher to clear, before he could get properly to grips with the intricacies of the new grammar.1 Against this background we made the following predictions. It is clear that BSL combines properties that should make it simultaneously both congenial and uncongenial for him. On the one hand, it exemplifies the domain of Christopher’s obsessional talent: it is a natural language with all the usual properties of natural languages. On the other hand, it exploits the visuo-spatial medium which causes Christopher such difficulty in performing everyday tasks. On the basis of the 1

We have more recently attempted to teach BSL to Christopher through the Sutton Sign Writing system (see Gangel-Vasquez 1997). Up to the writing of this paper he has looked favorably at this method of recording signs, but has found it difficult to reproduce the necessary spatial organization of symbols. We are continuing in this endeavor.


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past work looking at Christopher, we expected that his linguistic talent would outweigh the disadvantages of the medium, and that his ability in BSL would mirror his mixed abilities in spoken languages: that is, he would make extremely rapid initial progress, his mastery of the morphology and vocabulary would be excellent, and that he would have significant difficulty with those syntactic properties that differentiate BSL from spoken English. As well as teaching BSL to Christopher we also taught BSL to a comparator group of 40 talented second language learners, volunteer undergraduate students at UCL and City University, London. Their ages ranged between 18 and 30 years and there were 30 females and 10 males. They were assessed as having a level of fluency in a second language (learnt after 11 years of age) sufficient to begin a first year degree course at University in one of French, Spanish, or German. The group was taught the same BSL curriculum as Christopher using the same teaching methods. We do not discuss this comparison in depth here (for more details, see Morgan, Smith, Tsimpli and Woll 2002) but occasionally refer to test scores as a guide to the degree to which Christopher can be regarded as a normal sign learner. 16.3

Christopher’s psycholinguistic profile

Christopher scores relatively low on measures of nonverbal (performance) intelligence, as opposed to measures of verbal intelligence. This is indicated explicitly in Table 16.1, where the different figures show his performance on different occasions (the average normal score is in each case 100). There is no consensus on what exactly these tests of nonverbal intelligence actually tap, Table 16.1 Christopher’s performance in five nonverbal (performance) intelligence tests Test

Score (average normal score: 100)

Raven’s Matrices (administered at ages 14 and 32)

75 76

Wechsler Scale: WISC-R, UK (administered at age 13.8)

42 (performance) 89 (verbal)

Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale (administered at age 27.2)

52 (performance) 98 (verbal)

Columbia Greystone Mental Maturity Scale (administered at age 29.2)

56

Goodenough Draw a Man Test (administered at ages 14 and 32)

40 63

Source: Morgan et al. 2002

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Table 16.2 Christopher’s performance in two face recognition tests Test

Score

Benton Facial Recognition Test (administered at age 33)

Corrected Long Form Score: 27

Warrington Face/Word Recognition Test (administered at age 34)

Faces: 27/50; Words: 48/50

but common skills across these tests involve the ability to visualize how abstract spatial patterns change from different perspectives, to co-ordinate spatial locations in topographic maps, and to hold these abstract spatial patterns in nonverbal short-term memory. Unlike for instance, individuals with Williams syndrome, Christopher is extremely poor at face recognition, as shown by the results in Table 16.2. On the Benton test (Benton et al. 1983), a normal score would be between 41 and 54, and anything below 37 is “severely impaired.” On the Warrington (1984) face/word recognition test, he scored at the 75th percentile on words, with 48 out of 50 correct responses, but on faces his performance was too poor to be evaluated in comparison with any of the established norms. The preference for the “verbal” manifest in these data is reinforced by two other sets of results. First, in a multilingual version of the Peabody Picture Vocabulary Test, administered at age 28 (O’Connor and Hermelin 1991), Christopher scored as shown in (1). (1)

English 121;

German 114;

French 110;

Spanish 89

Second, in a variant of the Gollin figures test (Smith and Tsimpli 1995:8– 12) he was strikingly better at identifying words than objects. In this test, the subject is presented with approximations to different kinds of representation: either words or objects. The stimuli were presented in the form of a computer print-out over about 20 stages. At the first stage there was minimal information (approximately 6 percent), rendering the stimulus essentially unrecognizable. Succeeding stimuli increased the amount of information monotonically until, at the final stage, the representation was complete. The test was administered to Christopher and 15 controls. Christopher was by far the worst on object recognition, but second best on word recognition (for details, see Smith and Tsimpli 1995:Appendix 1). While no formal diagnosis has been made clinically, it is reasonably clear that Christopher is on the autistic continuum: he fails some, but not all, false-belief tasks, and he has some of the characteristic social manifestations of autism. He typically avoids eye contact, fails to initiate conversational exchanges, and


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is generally monosyllabic in spontaneous conversation. (For discussion, see Smith and Tsimpli 1995, and especially Tsimpli and Smith 1998.)

16.4

Apraxia

On the basis of two initial apraxia batteries (Kimura 1982) and an adaptation of the Boston Diagnostic Apraxia Examination (Goodglass and Kaplan 1983) it appears that Christopher has a severe apraxia involving the production of planned movements of the limbs when copying nonrepresentational movements. He scored 29 percent correct on the Kimura 3-movement copying test, where anything below 70 percent is considered apraxic. This limb apraxia contrasts with his normal performance in the comprehension and production of meaningful gestures. A version of the BDAE designed for signing subjects (described in Poizner et al. 1987) was carried out during the second period of Christopher’s exposure to BSL (after four formal classes), and he correctly produced 12 of 13 test items: that is, he is within normal limits for controls (as reported in Poizner et al. 1987:168). When requested to demonstrate a sneeze, or how to wave ‘goodbye,’ or how to cut meat, Christopher responded without difficulty, although some of his responses were somewhat strange. For example, he indicated ‘attracting a dog’ by beckoning with his finger; for ‘starting a car’ and ‘cleaning out a dish’ he used the BSL signs for CAR and COOK, instead of imitating the turning of an ignition key or the wiping of an imaginary vessel with an imaginary cloth. Christopher produced more conventional gestures for these items when told not to sign. Apart from this interference, the only test item Christopher failed outright was ‘move your eyes up.’ As well as producing simple gestures he has normal comprehension of these gestures when produced by another person.

16.5

BSL learning

16.5.1

Input

A deaf native signing BSL tutor taught Christopher a conventional BSL class once a month, concentrating on the core grammatical properties of the language: the lexicon, negation, verb agreement, questions, topicalization, as well as aspectual morphology, classifier constructions, nonmanual modifiers, and spatial location setting. Over eight months there were about 12 hours of formal teaching. This formal teaching was supplemented by conversation with a deaf native signer, who went over the same material in a less pedagogic context between classes. The total amount of BSL contact was therefore 24 hours. All classes and conversation classes were filmed on video tape.

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The 24 hours of BSL exposure were divided for the purposes of analysis into five periods: four of 5 hours each and a fifth of 4 hours. Each period was approximately 6–7 weeks in duration. After each subject area of BSL had been taught we assessed Christopher’s progress before increasing the complexity of the material he was exposed to. Christopher’s uptake of BSL was assessed in each area, using translation tasks from BSL to English and from English to BSL, as well as analysis of spontaneous and elicited use of sign. In addition, we carried out a variety of tests of Christopher’s general cognitive abilities. This battery of assessment and observational data are used to describe the development of his communicative behavior, on the one hand, and his acquisition of linguistic knowledge, on the other. 16.6

Results of Christopher’s learning of BSL2

At the beginning of the learning period, Christopher reported that he knew some signing. When questioned further, this turned out to be letters from the manual alphabet, which he claimed to have learnt from deaf people. On his first exposure to BSL in the study, Christopher already manifested a number of behaviors in his production and reception of signs that mark him out as an atypical learner. The most striking of these were his imitation of signs without understanding them and avoidance of direct eye contact with the signers around him. This sign imitation reduced over the learning period but did not disappear. As mentioned above, Christopher’s conversation in spoken languages tends to be brief, indeed monosyllabic, and somewhat inconsequential, but there is rarely if ever any imitation of meaningless spoken or oral gesture. Nor does Christopher manifest echopraxia of speech. In the first hours of exposure to BSL an interesting anomaly appeared. Christopher was very keen to communicate with the BSL tutor through spontaneously produced non-BSL gestures to describe objects and concepts presented to him in spoken English. For example, in attempting to represent the word ‘live’ (dwell) he tried to trace the outline of a large house. For the word ‘speak’ he touched his own teeth. His spontaneous attempt to mime or gesture is surprising, 2

Signed sentences that appear in the text follow standard notation conventions. Signs are represented by upper-case English glosses. Where more than one English word is needed to gloss a sign, this is indicated through hyphens e.g. FALL-FROM-HEIGHT ‘the person fell all the way down.’ When the verb is inflected for person agreement, subject and indirect object are marked with subscripted numbers indicating person e.g. 3 EXPLAIN2 ‘he explains it to you.’ Lower-case hyphenated glosses indicate a fingerspelled word e.g. g-a-r-y. Repetition of signs is marked by ‘+,’ and ‘IX’ is a pointing sign. Subscripted letters indicate locations in sign space. Nonmanual markers such as headshakes (hs) or brow-raised (br), and topics (t) are indicated by a horizontal line above the manual segment(s). When specific handshapes are referred to we use standard Stokoe notation e.g. ‘5 hand’ or ‘bent V.’


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as it contrasts markedly with the absence of gestural behavior when he speaks. It also contrasts with his later difficulty in inference-making when learning iconic signs (see below). 16.6.1

Lexical development

Christopher made significant progress in his comprehension and production of signs throughout the investigation. Unlike subjects with psychological profiles comparable to Christopher’s (e.g. the autistic signer, Judith M., reported in Poizner et al. 1987), Christopher showed no preference for particular classes of lexical items. Like Judith M., however, Christopher used ‘fillers’ or nonsense articulations, consisting of openings and closings of the hands, in his first period of exposure to sign. As well as comprehension and production tests, we carried out sign-recall tests to enable the evaluation of Christopher’s memory for new signs. His sign tutor showed him vocabulary items along with corresponding pictures or written words. The following week, he was asked to recall the signs by pointing correctly to the corresponding picture, and he was generally successful. Christopher’s comprehension of signs in connected discourse, however, was less successful. Compared to the comparator group, Christopher was as good at recalling single signs as several other subjects, but performed significantly worse than the other learners in his general comprehension of signed sentences. This single sign comprehension ability was quite striking, especially in comparison with his general disability in producing the fine details of signs. In contrast with his relatively intelligible gross gestures (e.g. holding his palm out to produce the sign for FIVE, or moving his arms apart in a horizontal arc with the palms facing down to produce the sign TABLE), his articulation of small movements of the hands and wrists was impaired, presumably due to his limb apraxia. Across the learning period his developing ability to recognize and produce single signs was matched by a significant increase in the internal complexity of the signs he could use, where this complexity is defined in terms of the formational properties of the signs concerned. For example, gross handshapes became finer (e.g. distinctions appeared between the signs for the numbers ONE, THREE, and FIVE), and movements became more constrained (initially his sign for BOOK was produced with open arms, seemingly producing a newspaper sized book, but subsequently this sign became smaller with his greater distalization of movement). Across the learning period, idiosyncrasies in his signs became more intelligible (e.g. his sign for WOMAN was produced by moving the index finger down his contralateral cheek, rather than on the ipsilateral side). These movement difficulties were of a greater degree than the articulation difficulties experienced by normal sign learners in hand co-ordination. Part of Christopher’s difficulties

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may be attributable to the difficulty he experiences in integrating linguistic and encyclopaedic knowledge. In learning new vocabulary, adult students of BSL may be helped if there is a potential inferential link between a sign and its meaning, where this link could be based on some visual property, such as the size and shape of an object, or a gestural/facial expression linked to an emotion or activity. Such linking, however, would require access to intact world knowledge, and presuppose some access to iconicity. In order to test whether iconicity might be a significant determinant of Christopher’s ability to master signs, we tested his identification of iconic vs. semi-iconic and non-iconic signs. During the second period of exposure to BSL Christopher and the comparator subjects were presented with 30 signs, repeated once, and asked to write an equivalent in English. The signs had been rated in previous research as “iconic” (transparent), “semiiconic” (translucent), and “non-iconic” (opaque). None of the signs had been used in previous sign classes. Although their overall performance as shown in Table 16.3 is comparable, Christopher’s incorrect responses to the iconic and semi-iconic signs were markedly different to those of the normal learners. Some non-iconic signs were translated by Christopher as nonsymbolic equivalents. For example, he translated SISTER (made by a curved index finger touching the bridge of the nose) as ‘rub your nose’; and he translated the semi-iconic sign MIRROR (made by an open hand twisted quickly with the palm facing the face) as ‘wave your hand.’ It seems then that Christopher was in some sense tied to a nonsymbolic interpretation when confronted by abstract form–meaning relations (for a discussion of his interpretation of pretend play, see Smith and Tsimpli 1996). This had subsequent effects in his late learning of more complex sign constructions. Confronted with a considerable amount of iconicity in BSL, adult learners of BSL and other signed languages characteristically use visual inference in their learning of sign vocabulary (see Pizzuto and Volterra 2000), but Christopher, in comparison, seems not to. Table 16.3 Test of identification of iconic vs. semi-iconic and non-iconic signs

Iconic Semi-iconic Non-iconic Mean (as a percentage)

Christopher

Comparator group (mean score)

5/10 2/10 0/10 23.3

8/10 0/10 0/10 26.7


16.6.2

431

Morphosyntax

16.6.2.1 Negation. There are four main markers of negation in BSL: r facial action; r head movement; r manual negation signs; and r signs with negation incorporated in them (Sutton-Spence and Woll 1999). Each marker can occur in conjunction with the others, and facial action can vary in intensity. Christopher identified the use of headshakes early on in his exposure to BSL, but he had extreme difficulty in producing a headshake in combination with a sign. In Period 1 of exposure Christopher separated the two components out and often produced a headshake at the end of the sign utterance. In fact, as was ascertained in the apraxia tests, Christopher has major difficulty in producing a headshake at all. A typical early example of his use of negation is given in (2) and (3). (2)

Target:

(3)

Christopher:

t br NIGHT SIGN CAN YOU ‘Can you sign in the dark?’ hs NIGHT SIGN ME ‘I sign in the dark no’

Christopher became increasingly more able to produce a headshake while using a manual sign, but we observed in Period 3 that he often used a sequential marker of negation when signing spontaneously. Rather than shaking his head at the same time as the negated sign, the headshake was mostly produced at the end of the sentence after the manual components. Occasionally Christopher was observed to use the marker between the subject and the verb: (4)

Christopher:

hs ME LIKE ‘I do not like’

These patterns can also be argued to represent a re-analysis of the negation sign into a linguistic category which is not BSL-like, but is part of UG. If Christopher had assigned the negation morpheme morphological status, he would tend to use a sequential rather than a concurrent representation. In experimental tests of his understanding of negation, Christopher performed at a level comparable with that of the other learners of BSL as shown in the first two columns of Figure 16.1. The figure shows the results of six tests of BSL comprehension. Negation 1 and Agreement 1 are tests of signed sentence comprehension through Sign to English sentence matching, while Negation 2 and Agreement 2 are tests of grammaticality judgment. Classifier 1 is a signed sentence to picture match

432


100%

Correct scores

80% 60%

Christopher

40%

Comparator

20%

as

sif ie

r2

r1 as Cl

Cl

en m A

gr

ee

ee gr A

sif ie

t2

t1 en m

tio eg a N

N

eg a

tio

n

n

2

1

0%

Test domains

Figure 16.1 Assessments of comprehension across BSL grammar tests: Christopher and mean comparator scores

test and Classifier 2 is a signed sentence to written English sentence match. Comparator group scores are also included. In the test of comprehension of the headshake marker (Negation 1), Christopher scored 93 percent correct (chance = 50 percent). The comparator group scored between 86 percent and 100 percent, mean = 97 percent, SD = 4.8 percent. These scores were significantly above chance for both groups. There was no statistical difference between Christopher and the comparator group’s scores. A grammaticality judgment test of comprehension of negation through morphological incorporation (Negation 2) was also carried out. BSL, like ASL, has a set of verbs that can be negated through a regular morphological modification (Sutton-Spence and Woll 1999; Neidle, Kegl, MacLaughlin, Bahan, and Lee 2000). Signs with stative meaning such as WANT, HAVE, KNOW, and BELIEVE can be negated through movement and opening of the hand away from the body, while the location of the sign stays the same. In order to recognize the ungrammatical element, subjects had to identify a sign that does not take incorporated negation (e.g. EAT) in a short signed sentence. The ungrammatical signs were produced with the regular morphological modification of negation. On this test Christopher scored 60 percent correct (chance 50 percent), the comparator group between 30 percent and 80 percent, mean = 57 percent, SD = 15.3 percent. There was no statistical difference between Christopher and the comparator group’s scores. The overall use of negation across the exposure period in Christopher’s spontaneous signing is summarized in Table 16.4. Across the five learning periods


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Table 16.4 Use of negation markers across learning period: Types, tokens, and ungrammatical use Negation

Period 1

Period 2

Period 3

Period 4

Period 5

Types of negation Total tokens Percentage ungrammatical (occurrences)

4 13 7.7 (1)

4 29 24 (7)

2 6 50 (3)

4 57 1.7 (1)

3 28 7 (2)

Christopher displayed productive knowledge of the negation system in BSL, producing many more grammatical than ungrammatical tokens, with several different types of negation markers. 16.6.2.2 Verb agreement morphology. There are three basic classes of verbs in BSL: r plain verbs, which can be modified to show manner, aspect, and the class of direct object; r agreement verbs, which can be modified to show manner, aspect, person, number, and class of direct object; and r spatial verbs, which can be modified to show manner, aspect, and location (Sutton-Spence and Woll 1999). Here we concentrate on Christopher’s mastery of the rules of verb agreement morphology. Verbs such as ASK, GIVE, TELL, TELEPHONE, and TEASE in BSL can include morphosyntactic information either through movement between indexed locations in sign space or between the signer and shifted reference points in the context of role shift. In Figure 16.2 the signer moves the sign ASK between a location on her right, previously indexed for the NP ‘a man,’ toward a location on her left, previously indexed for the NP ‘a woman’

Figure 16.2

‘(He) asks (her)’

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Figure 16.3

∗

‘I like (her)’

(the signer is left handed). Moving a plain verb between indexed locations is ungrammatical, as in Figure 16.3 where the signer moves the sign LIKE toward a location previously indexed for the NP ‘a woman.’ Verb agreement morphology in BSL is fairly restricted, being used only with transitive verbs that express an event. When Christopher first observed signers using indexed locations he seemed to treat this as deictic reference. He looked in the direction of the point for something that the point had referred to. He did not use indexing or spatial locations himself; whenever possible, he used a real world location. In the Period 1 he used uninflected verb forms when copying sentences. (5)

(6)

Target: g-a-r-y 3 EXPLAIN2 YOU (verb inflection moves from third person to second person) ‘Gary explains to you’ Christopher: g-a-r-y EXPLAIN YOU (no verb inflection; the sign is the citation form) ‘Gary explain you’

When he first used agreement verbs he had persistent problems in reversing the direction of the verb’s movement to preserve the meaning, copying the real world trajectory of the verb. Thus, when asked to repeat the sentence: (7)

1 TELEPHONE2

‘I telephone you’

Christopher at first moved the verb inflection in the same direction as he had just seen it move, i.e. toward himself. His repetition therefore looked like: (8)

2 TELEPHONE1

‘you telephone me’.

These reversal errors have been described in 3–5 year old children acquiring signed language (e.g. Petitto 1987). In contrast, errors in copying the direction of


435

verb agreement were minimal in the comparator group. Christopher’s difficulty was largely resolved by Period 5 although there were still occasional examples of the error in his spontaneous productions. By Period 5 (after eight months of exposure), Christopher spontaneously produced correct simple directional affixes on verbs for present referents, indicating that he could reverse the direction of verb movements to preserve meanings. (9) (10)

Target: Christopher:

brow raise HELP ‘Will you help me?’ 2 1 HELP ‘Yes I’ll help you.’ 1 2

However, throughout the learning period, he was unable to use sign space to set up stable spatial locations for nonpresent subjects and objects. Instead, he used the real locations of present persons and objects, and avoided any use of sign space to assign syntactic locations for nonpresent referents. When real world referents were used as locations for the start or end points of verb signs, Christopher managed to produce some inflections e.g. the third to second person location, indicating that in his production he was at least aware of the distinction between a plain verb and one inflected to agree with a location at the side of sign space. Although in Christopher’s spontaneous signing there were very few examples of verb agreement for nonpresent referents, he did display a level of comprehension comparable to that of the comparator group. In the tests of comprehension of verb agreement, Christopher scored 60 percent correct (chance was 50 percent) in the simpler of the two tests (Agreement 1), while the comparator group scores were between 60 percent and 100 percent, mean = 79 percent, SD = 13.3 percent. Neither Christopher’s nor the comparator group’s scores were significantly above chance. In the more complex grammaticality judgment test (Agreement 2), he answered by alternating between grammatical and ungrammatical replies, indicating that he did not understand the task. He scored at chance (50 percent) while the comparator group scored between 40 percent and 100 percent, mean = 58.3 percent, SD = 16.6 percent. Again both sets of scores were not significantly above chance. In a separate translation test he failed to translate any of six BSL sentences using person agreement morphology into English. The errors were characteristic of his translations as reported for spoken language (Smith and Tsimpli 1995) when trying to deal with a task involving high cognitive load (online consecutive translation). He characteristically made errors based on phonological similarity; e.g. in one sentence he substituted the verb ASK for the sign TEA as the signs share place of articulation and handshape. Overall Christopher’s errors in using verb agreement arise either from omitting agreement (using a citation form of the verb plus pointing to the subject

436


and object), or by articulating the verb inflection in the wrong direction. These are typical developmental errors in young children exposed to signed language from infancy (e.g. Bellugi et al. 1990). 16.6.2.3 Classifiers.3 Christopher was able to copy correctly some classifiers from his tutors’ examples, but because he also produced many errors with classifiers it was not clear if this correct usage was productive or unanalyzed. For example, when copying the sentence in (11) Christopher used the same handshape (5 hand) with both hands rather than using one hand to sign a tall flat object (with a flat palm) and on the other hand signing a jumping person (with a bent V). pursed lips (11) Target: BOY CL-bent-V-person-JUMP-OVER-CL-B-WALL ‘the boy just managed to clear the surface of the high wall’ Christopher signed only the general movement of the sentence by crossing his hands in space, nor did he sign the ‘effortful’ manner of the jump, through facial action. (12)

Christopher: BOY hands-cross-in-space4

This difficulty may be a result of his apraxia. However, he did not attempt to substitute the marked bent V handshape with another, easier-to-produce handshape to distinguish between the wall and the person. This error indicates that Christopher was not using the classifier as a polymorphemic sign, and that his correct copies were unanalyzed whole forms. Even after substantial exposure to classifiers, Christopher preferred in his spontaneous signing to act out some verbs like WALK, SIT, and JUMP rather than to exploit a classifier: e.g. CL-bent-V-person. Although Christopher found classifiers difficult in his own signing, he appeared to show some understanding of their use. He was occasionally able to pick out pictures for sentences signed to him such as ‘a person falling,’ ‘a person walking,’ and ‘a small animal jumping.’ In order to quantify this we carried out two tests of Christopher and the comparator group. The first test (Classifier 1) required subjects to watch 10 signed sentences involving a classifier and then choose one of three written English sentences. For example in one item the BSL target was ‘a line of telephones’ produced with a Y handshape articulated several times in a straight line in sign space. The choices were: 3 4

This part of the research is the subject of a separate paper detailing the spatial aspects of BSL and the role of mapping in Christopher’s learning (Morgan et al. in preparation b). Text in lower case in the sign gloss tier indicates that a gesture was used with a sign.


437

r a line of horses; r a line of cars; r a line of telephones. In the second test (Classifier 2) subjects watched 10 signed sentences and then picked a corresponding picture from four picture alternatives. Christopher performed significantly worse on the Classifier 1 test than the comparator group; he scored 20 percent correct (chance was 33 percent). Comparator group scores were between 80 percent and 100 percent, mean 89 percent, SD = 9.9 percent. On the classifier 2 test Christopher scored 10 percent correct (chance was 25 percent). Comparator group scores were between 50 percent and 100 percent, mean 72 percent, SD = 13.8 percent. There was no significant difference between the comparator group’s scores on the Classifier 1 and Classifier 2 tests. Christopher and the mean comparator group’s scores are presented in Figure 16.1. The results presented in Figure 16.1 suggest that in the domains of negation and agreement Christopher’s general comprehension and judgments of grammaticality are similar to other learners, but he does markedly less well than the comparator group on the classifier tasks. Many of Christopher’s errors in the classifier tests appeared to be random, while members of the comparator group (when making wrong choices) seemed to use a visual similarity strategy. For example, the comparator subjects when matching a picture with a classifier often made choices based on a salient perceptual characteristic (roundedness, thinness, etc.) although the movement or spatial location of the sign was not accurately processed. Christopher, on the other hand, made several choices with no such apparent strategy. 16.7

Discussion

By the final period of exposure to BSL, Christopher’s signing has greatly improved, and it is at a level where he can conduct a simple conversation. In this respect he has supported our prediction that he would find the language accessible and satisfying in linguistic terms. From the beginning of BSL exposure he has shown interest and a motivation to learn, despite the physical and psychological hurdles he had to overcome. Christopher has learnt to use single signs and short sentences as well as normal learners do. This supports part of our first prediction, that he would find vocabulary learning relatively easy. His understanding of verb morphology is comparable to that of the comparator group, but in production the complexity of manipulating locations in sign space is still beyond him. After eight months’ exposure he continues to use real world objects and locations (including himself and his conversation partner) to map out sign locations. Thus, verb morphology in BSL is markedly less well developed than in his other second languages (for example, in his learning of Berber)

438


to which he had comparable exposure. These findings do not support our prediction that he would learn BSL verb morphology quickly and easily, at least insofar as his sign production is concerned. In his spontaneous signing, utterance length is limited, yet he does not use English syntax. He understands negation as well as other normal learners, although in production we have seen an impact of his apraxia on the correct co-ordination of manual and nonmanual markers. In general, in his production there is an absence of facial grammar. We have not observed the same extent of influence of English syntax on his BSL as we originally predicted. However, there is one domain where a difference in syntactic structure between English and BSL may have influenced his learning. Christopher’s comprehension and production of classifier constructions was very limited. Although the comparator group performed less well in classifier comprehension than in the other linguistic tests, Christopher’s scores were significantly worse than the comparator group only in this domain. 16.7.1

Modality effects

Christopher has learnt a new language in the signed modality less well than in the spoken modality. Christopher’s apraxia impinges on his production but not comprehension of several domains of BSL. The pattern of strengths and weaknesses in his learning of BSL is similar to, as well as different from, that found in his learning of spoken languages. Our research has shown that the modality (including the use of simultaneous articulation of linguistic information in BSL) is responsible for partly supporting and partly falsifying our original predictions. His vocabulary learning was good but his mastery of verb morphology was not. The restricted nature of verb-agreement morphology in BSL may have made patterns harder to internalize. We believe that the absence of a written version of BSL reduced his ability to retain in memory abstract morphological regularities. The persistent nonpermanence of the input increased the cognitive load for Christopher. We also suggest that exposure to a language that relies on many visual links between form and meaning increases the importance of iconically-based inference-making in adult learning. Christopher’s difficulty in making these inferences based on intact world knowledge may have affected his progress significantly. In his rather limited sentence production we observed less of an influence of his first language than was the case in his acquisition of other, spoken, languages such as Berber. Perhaps the contrast between the output modalities of signed and spoken language may have an inhibitory effect on transfer strategies. His difficulties in sign articulation caused him to slow his production down. In


439

general, the greatest influence of English in his other spoken languages is shown when he is speaking or reading quickly. In one domain of Christopher’s learning, there may have been a direct influence of modality. Christopher avoided the use of classifier constructions and performed very poorly in tests of their comprehension. This may either be attributable to the complexity of the use of space in the formation of BSL classifiers (a modality effect), or to the inherent linguistic complexity of classifiers (a nonmodality effect). On this latter view, Christopher’s difficulty with classifiers is simply that they encode semantic contrasts (like shape) that none of his other languages do. Support for the former view – that there is a modality effect – comes from his poor performance in using sign space to map out verb agreement morphology. Although the use of spatial locations for linguistic encoding was comprehended to the same general degree as in the comparator group, in his sign production the use of sign space was absent. Thus, if it is the use of sign space which is a problem, and classifiers rely on a particularly high level of sign space processing, his visuo-spatial deficits appear to impinge most in the use of this set of structures. The analysis of Christopher’s learning of BSL reveals a dissociation between spatial mapping abilities and the use of grammatical devices that do not exploit spatial relations. We have attempted to relate this dissociation to the asymmetry Christopher demonstrates between his verbal and nonverbal IQ. The general abilities needed to map spatial locations in memory, recognize abstract patterns of spatial contrasts and visualize spatial relations from different perspectives are called upon in the use of classifiers in sign space. Christopher’s unequal achievements in different parts of his BSL learning can then be attributed to his apraxia and visuo-spatial problems. It is clear that certain cognitive prerequisites outside the linguistic domain are required for spatialized aspects of BSL but there are no comparable demands in spoken languages. The fact that the aspects of signed language that are absent in Christopher’s signing are those that depend on spatial relations (e.g. the classifier system) suggests that the deficit is actually generalized from outside the language faculty. In this case it might be said that underlying grammatical abilities are preserved, but they are obscured by impairments in cognitive functions needed to encode and decode a visuo-spatial language. In conclusion the dissociations between Christopher’s ability in different parts of the grammar provide the opportunity to explore which areas of language are modality-free and which areas are modality-dependent, and the extent to which signed languages differ from spoken languages in their requirements for access to intact, nonlinguistic processing capabilities. Differences in

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Christopher’s abilities and the unevenness of his learning supports the view that only some parts of language are modality-free. Acknowledgments Aspects of this research have been presented at the conferences for Theoretical Issues in Sign Language Research, Washington, DC, November 1998, Amsterdam, July 2000 and the Linguistics Association of Great Britain meeting at UCL, London, April 2000. We are indebted to the audiences at these venues for their contribution. We are grateful to Frances Elton and Ann Sturdy for their invaluable help with this project. We would also like to express our thanks to the Leverhulme Trust who, under grant F.134AS, have supported our work on Christopher for a number of years, and to John Carlile for helping to make it possible. Our deepest debt is to Christopher himself and his family, who have been unstinting in their support and co-operation. 16.8

References

Bellugi, Ursula, Diane Lillo-Martin, Lucinda O’Grady, and Karen van Hoek. 1990. The development of spatialized syntactic mechanisms in American Sign Language. In The Fourth International Symposium on Sign Language Research, ed. William H. Edmonson and Fred Karlsson, 16–25. Hamburg: Signum-Verlag. Benton, Arthur L., Kerry Hamsher, Nils R. Varney, and Otfried Spreen. 1983. Contributions to neuropsychological assessment. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Fodor, Jerry. 1983. The modularity of mind. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Gangel-Vasquez, J. 1997. Literacy in Nicaraguan Sign Language: Assessing word recognition skills at the Escuelita de Bluefields. Manuscript, University of California, San Diego, CA. Goodglass, Harold, and Edith Kaplan. 1983. The assessment of aphasia and related disorders. Philadelphia, PA: Lea and Febiger. Kimura, Doreen. 1982. Left-hemisphere control of oral and brachial movements and their relation to communication. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London ser. B, 298:135–149. Kimura, Doreen. 1993. Neuromotor mechanisms in human communication. New York: Oxford University Press. Morgan. Gary, Neil V. Smith, Ianthi-Maria Tsimpli, and Bencie Woll. 2002. Language against the odds: The learning of British Sign Language by a polyglot savant. Journal of Linguistics 39:1–41. Morgan. Gary, Neil V. Smith, Ianthi-Maria Tsimpli, and Bencie Woll. In preparation a. Autism in signed language learning. Manuscript, University College London. Morgan. Gary, Neil V. Smith, Ianthi-Maria Tsimpli, and Bencie Woll. In preparation b. Learning to talk about space with space. Manuscript, University College London. Neidle, Carol, Judy Kegl, Dawn MacLaughlin, Benjamin Bahan, and Robert G. Lee. 2000. The syntax of American Sign Language: Functional categories and hierarchical structure. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.


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O’Connor, Neil and B. Hermelin. 1991. A specific linguistic ability. American Journal of Mental Retardation 95:673–680. Petitto, Laura A. 1987. On the autonomy of language and gesture: Evidence from the acquisition of personal pronouns in American Sign Language. Cognition 27:1–52. Pizzuto, Elena, and Virginia Volterra. 2000. Iconicity and transparency in sign languages: A cross-linguistic cross-cultural view. In The signs of language revisited: An anthology to honor Ursula Bellugi and Edward Klima, ed. Karen Emmorey and Harlan Lane, 261–286. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Poizner, Howard, Edward S. Klima, and Ursula Bellugi. 1987. What the hands reveal about the brain. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Smith, Neil V. 1996. A polyglot perspective on dissociation. Behavioural and Brain Sciences 19:648. Smith, Neil V., and Ianthi-Maria Tsimpli. 1995. The mind of a savant: Language learning and modularity. Oxford: Blackwell. Smith, Neil V., and Ianthi-Maria Tsimpli. 1996. Putting a banana in your ear. Glot International 2:28. Smith, Neil V., and Ianthi-Maria Tsimpli. 1997. Reply to Bates. International Journal of Bilingualism 2:180–186. Sutton-Spence, Rachel L. and Bencie Woll. 1999. The linguistics of BSL: An introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tsimpli, Ianthi-Maria and Neil V. Smith. 1991. Second language learning: Evidence from a polyglot savant. In UCL Working Papers in Linguistics 3:171–183. Department of Phonetics and Linguistics, University College London. Tsimpli, Ianthi-Maria and Neil V. Smith. 1995. Minds, maps and modules: Evidence from a polyglot savant. In Working Papers in English and Applied Linguistics, 2, 1–25. Research Centre for English and Applied Linguistics, University of Cambridge. Tsimpli, Ianthi-Maria and Neil V. Smith. 1998. Modules and quasi-modules: Language and theory of mind in a polyglot savant. Learning and Individual Differences 10:193–215. Warrington, E.K. 1984. Recognition memory test. Windsor: NFER Nelson.

17

Deictic points in the visual–gestural and tactile–gestural modalities David Quinto-Pozos

17.1

Introduction

A Deaf-Blind person has only one channel through which conventional language can be communicated, and that channel is touch.1 Thus, if a Deaf-Blind person uses signed language for communication, he must place his hands on top of the signer’s hands and follow that signer’s hands as they form various handshapes and move through the signing space.2 A sign language such as American Sign Language (ASL) that is generally perceived through vision must, in this case, be perceived through touch. Given that contact between the signer’s hands and the receiver’s hands is necessary for the Deaf-Blind person to perceive a signed language, we may wonder about the absence of the nonmanual signals of visual–gestural language (e.g. eyebrow shifts, head orientation, eye gaze). These elements play a significant role in the grammar of signed languages, often allowing for the occurrence of various word orders and syntactic structures. One of the central questions motivating this study was how the absence of such nonmanual elements might influence the form that tactile-gestural language takes. Thus, this study began as an effort to describe the signed language production of Deaf-Blind individuals with a focus on areas where nonmanual signals would normally be used in visual–gestural language. However, after reviewing the narrative data from this study, it quickly became evident that the Deaf-Blind subjects did not utilize nonmanual signals in their signed language production. In addition, they differed from the sighted Deaf subjects in another key area: in 1

2

Throughout this work, the term “Deaf-Blind” is used to refer to people who do not have the hearing necessary to perceive spoken language nor the sight necessary to perceive signed language through the visual channel. As mentioned, some Deaf-Blind individuals perceive tactile signed language with both hands, but some individuals use only one hand (usually the hand used as the dominant hand in the production of signed language), especially when conversing with interlocutors whom they know well. Additionally, there are times when only one hand can be used for reception because of events that are occurring in the immediate environment (i.e. the placement of individuals around the signer and receiver(s), movement from one location to another by walking, etc.).

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Deixis in visual and tactile signed language

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the use of deictic points as a referencing strategy. After further investigation, it seemed likely that this referencing strategy is linked to the use of the nonmanual signal eye gaze. This study describes the use of deictic points in narratives produced by two Deaf-Blind adults vis-à-vis the use of deictic points in narratives produced by two Deaf sighted adults. The narratives (one per subject) were signed by each subject to each of the three other subjects in the study, which means that each subject recounted her or his narrative three times; to both sighted Deaf, and Deaf-Blind interlocutors. This design made it possible to examine language production and the manner in which it may vary as a function of the interlocutor. 17.2

Signed language for the blind and sighted: Reviewing similarities and differences

One of the most common methods of communication for Deaf-Blind individuals in the USA involves the use of signed language that is perceived by touch (Yarnall 1980), which I refer to as tactile signed language. In many cases – such as those in which Deaf-Blind individuals experience the loss of sight after the loss of hearing – tactile signed language is the adaptation of a visual signed language to the tactile modality (Reed, Durlach, and Delhorne 1992). The documented adaptations will be reviewed in Section 17.2.1. However, there are also cases in which congenitally deaf and blind individuals use tactile signed language for communication, but it is not clear if they use it in the same manner as those who became blind after having learned conventional signed language. Cases of congenitally Deaf-Blind individuals who use tactile signed language are interesting because their language acquisition would necessarily take place tactually, rather than visually. The tactile acquisition of language may influence the structure and/or form of a language that is learned, and cause it to differ from visual–gestural and auditory–oral languages, at least in some areas. Research on this topic may be of fundamental importance to our understanding of language acquisition generally, but that is not the primary focus of this study. One point from this section must be emphasized: The use of tactile signed language for communication – whether by the congenitally deaf and blind or by later-blinded individuals – is quite successful. A brief discussion of the literature on the signed language used by Deaf-Blind people makes this clear. This portion of the literature review accomplishes two goals: it familiarizes the reader with comprehension studies that have been conducted on Deaf-Blind users of signed language, and it explains several points about the unique form of tactile signed language.

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17.2.1

Communication in tactile sign language

17.2.1.1 A look at Deaf-Blind communication. Studies of tactile signed language reception have been conducted in which subjects’ accuracy in perceiving language tactually has been measured. The tactile modality yields highly accurate perception of fingerspelling at naturally produced rates, which is about two to six letters per second (Reed, Delhorne, Durlach, and Fischer 1990). In addition, the tactual reception of signs – like that of fingerspelling – is highly accurate, but there are some areas where errors tend to occur. For instance, in a study of the reception of 122 isolated signs by nine Deaf-Blind subjects, Reed, Delhorne, Durlach, and Fischer (1995) showed that the phonological parameter of location – which accounted for 45 percent of the one-parameter errors of perception in their study – appears to be more difficult to perceive in isolated signs than movement, handshape, and orientation. Yet, despite the observed errors of perception, the authors reported that the nine Deaf-Bind subjects identified isolated signs accurately between 75 percent and 98 percent of the time.3 In the same publication, Reed et al. (1995) also examined the perception of signs in ASL and PSE (Pidgin Sign English) sentences.4 This part of the study yielded a different result from their examination of the perception of isolated signs. When presented with sentences as stimuli the Deaf-Blind subjects made more errors in the phonological parameter of handshape than in location, movement, and orientation. In the end, the subjects’ accuracy for perceiving signs in sentences ranged from 60 percent to 85 percent.5 Regarding the different types 3

4

5

It may be the case that non Deaf-Blind users of visual signed language would also fail to reach 100 percent accuracy if they were asked to perform a similar identification task. In other words, sighted Deaf individuals would likely fail to reach 100 percent identification accuracy on the identification of isolated signs and signs in sentences in visual signed language. However, sighted Deaf individuals did not participate in the Reed et al. (1995) study in order to compare such figures. In this portion of the Reed et al. (1995) study, 10 subjects – rather than nine as in part one – were presented with the sentence stimuli; five subjects were given ASL sentences to repeat and five were given PSE (Pidgin Sign English) sentences to repeat. The term PSE was introduced by Woodward (1973) as the language use among the deaf that displays grammatical elements of other pidgins, with elements of both ASL and English. Later work (Cokely 1983) made the claim that PSE is really not a pidgin, but rather, among other things, a type of foreigner talk with influence from judgments of proficiency. These issues are beyond the scope of this chapter. Regarding the Reed et al. (1995) study, there were some group differences between the two groups regarding the degree of reception accuracy, but both groups made the most errors in the parameter of hand shape when presented with sentence stimuli. Subjects in the Reed et al. study who were presented with PSE sentences fared better in the reception of signs in sentences than those subjects who were presented with ASL sentences. This may be due to the subjects in the study and their preferences rather than the “forms” of the message. However, it is worth remarking that several of the PSE subjects in the study learned language tactually (in one form or another) because they were born deaf and blind, or they became so at a very early age. In fact, Reed et al. (1995:487) mentioned that “the subjects in the PSE group may be regarded as closer to native signers of tactual sign language than the


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of errors encountered in the reception of isolated signs versus signs in sentences, Reed et al. (1995:485) suggested that the “better reception of handshape in citation form may result from the fact that handshape is the most redundant part of the sign in frozen lexical forms . . . [while] in continuous signing, handshape is less redundant than in isolated signs.” Even though the Deaf-Blind subjects in this study made minimal perception errors in isolated signs and signs in sentences, Reed et al. (1995:488) asserted that “the tactual reception of sign language is an effective means of communication for deaf-blind individuals who are experienced in its use.” 17.2.1.2 The form of tactile signed language. Recent work has claimed that there are various ways in which tactile signed language differs from visual ASL. Specifically, Collins and Petronio (1998) described the changes that visual ASL undergoes when signed in a tactile modality, and they referred to the language production of Deaf-Blind individuals as “Tactile ASL.”6 One difference relates to back-channel feedback strategies that exist in Tactile ASL and not in visual ASL (e.g. Tactile ASL utilizes finger taps and hand squeezes for back-channel feedback), and another difference is that the signing space in Tactile ASL is generally smaller than in visual ASL because of the close proximity of the signer and interlocutor. Also, ASL signs articulated with contact on the body/torso/head are produced somewhat differently in Tactile ASL because the signer’s body/torso/head commonly moves to contact the hand as it articulates the sign in the space in front of the signer rather than the hand(s) moving to contact the body/torso/head.

6

subjects in the ASL group.” On the other hand, most of the “ASL subjects” were Deaf-Blind individuals who had lost their sight after having acquired visual ASL. Clearly, more research is needed on the sign language production of congenitally Deaf-Blind individuals in order to determine if tactual language acquisition has a unique effect on the form and/or structure of the tactile signed language used. The terms “visual ASL” and “Tactile ASL” were used by Collins and Petronio (1998) to refer to traditional ASL as it is signed in North America and ASL as it is signed by Deaf-Blind individuals, respectively. The term “visual ASL” is used in the same manner in this chapter, although the label “Tactile ASL” can be somewhat misleading, since tactile signed language in the USA, like visual sign language, can have the characteristics of ASL or Signed English, as well as variations that contain elements of both varieties. The basic claim that Collins and Petronio make is that the Deaf-Blind subjects in their studies signed ASL with some accommodations for the tactile modality, hence the term “Tactile ASL.” I refer to the signed language used by the Deaf-Blind subjects in the study described in this chapter as “tactile signed language,” and avoid terms such as Tactile ASL or Tactile Signed English (which is also a possibility if referring to the signed language of Deaf-Blind individuals). Also, Collins and Petronio referred to differences between Tactile ASL and visual ASL as “sociolinguistic changes ASL undergoes as it is adapted to the tactile mode” (1998:18). It seems that these “changes” could be better described as linguistic accommodations or simply adaptations made to ASL (or sign language in general) when signed in a tactile modality. The term “sociolinguistic changes” implies diachronic change for many researchers, and the direct claim of diachronic change of visual ASL to tactile ASL has not been advanced by any known researcher.

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In addition to the differences mentioned above, Collins and Petronio observed that Tactile ASL regularly contains overt elements that are often covert or are represented nonmanually in visual ASL. For example, in visual ASL a signer can use a nonmanual signal to mark a yes–no question (in this case, raised eyebrows) without articulating the lexical sign QUESTION. However, Collins and Petronio reported that the Deaf-Blind subjects who they observed all used the lexical sign QUESTION at the end of a yes–no question. In addition, visual ASL signers can sometimes use nonmanual signals in place of lexical wh-question signs whereas Tactile ASL signers – as reported by Collins and Petronio (1998) – produce lexical signs to accomplish the same function. Thus, what appears to differ between visual ASL and Tactile ASL regarding the use of yes–no and wh-question lexical signs is that in visual ASL such signs are optional whereas in Tactile ASL the same signs appear to be obligatory. Collins and Petronio (1998) also claimed that the ASL second person singular sign YOU can be used to introduce questions that are directed at a Deaf-Blind interlocutor. This observation – which is of particular relevance to the current study – was also made by Petronio (1988), who observed that Deaf-Blind people report being confused when a question is put to them. In order to avoid confusion, it appears that the use of a sentence-initial point to the interlocutor has been adopted for communicating that the subsequent sentence is indeed a question directed at the receiver. As one can see, tactile signed language is an effective tool for communication among Deaf-Blind individuals in the USA, but there exist several ways in which it differs from conventional ASL as used by Deaf sighted individuals. One of the differences – the function and use of the deictic point – is focused upon in this chapter. A brief review of the use and function of deictic pointing (both manually and nonmanually) in visual ASL is in order first. 17.2.2

The deictic point in visual ASL

The deictic point7 is claimed to carry out several functions in visual ASL. It has been described as a specifier of pronominal reference (Lillo-Martin and Klima 1990; Meier 1990; Engberg-Pedersen 1993; among others), a determiner (Bahan, Kegl, MacLaughlin, and Neidle 1995; Bahan 1996), a syntactic tag (Padden 1983), or a pronoun clitic (Kegl 1986; 1995; Padden 1990), as well as other functions that have not been included here. Some recent accounts claim that the deictic point in visual ASL is not entirely linguistic, but also includes a gestural component (Liddell 1995; Liddell and Metzger 1998). In the present study, I refer to deictic points as instances of indexation, and different types of indexation are described based on their semantic functions. 7

In this chapter I primarily address instances of a point (G handshape, palm facing downward or toward the imaginary mid-sagittal line in the signing space) directed to locations other than the signer himself or herself.


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I do not, however, address the deictic point used for first person singular – whether used to communicate the perspective of the narrator or the perspective of a character in a narrative – because the first person singular deictic point differs considerably in phonetic form from the types of deictic points presented above (for example, those points are generally directed away from the signer’s body). As mentioned in the introduction, the goal of this work is to address the use of (or lack of) deictic points that have the potential of being referentially ambiguous – especially without the support of the nonmanual signal eye gaze – in tactile signed language. Determining the referent of a first person point is generally not problematic.8 17.2.3

Nonmanual signals that function as referential devices in visual ASL

One of the functions of nonmanual signals in visual ASL is that of referential indicator, and one way that this referential function is realized is through eye gaze. For instance, based on work by Bendixen (1975) and Baker (1976a; 1976b), Liddell (1980:5) noted that “the eyes are directed initially toward the location to be established, apparently a normal part of the location establishment process.” Additionally, eye gaze can function as pronominal reference (Baker and Padden 1978; Liddell 1980) once an association or a link is established between a location in space and a nominal argument. Sometimes eye gaze accompanies a deictic point that is directed at a location that was previously established in the signing space and that was linked to a particular referent (Petronio 1993). In addition, in an account of eye gaze as a syntactic agreement marker in ASL, Bahan (1996:270) claimed that eye gaze can co-occur with a manual deictic point, but cannot occur alone, except in a “special ‘whisper’ register.” As can be noted from these accounts, eye gaze is widely used in visual ASL for referential purposes. One other type of nonmanual signal in visual ASL that is pertinent to this study is torso/head/eye-gaze orientation (often termed a “role-shift”), and one function of such orientation is to mark “direct” or “reported” speech in ASL (Padden 1990). For example, if a signer is referring to a statement made by a third person who is not present, the signer can change his or her torso/head/eyegaze orientation, and the subsequent statement is understood to have been made by a third person who is not present. 17.2.4

The focus of this study

This study focuses on tactile signed language and the absence of several visual signed language nonmanual signals (e.g. eyebrow shifts, head orientation, 8

In certain circumstances, a deictic point to the signer (first person singular) can also be referentially ambiguous, possibly referring to the signer or possibly referring to another character in ASL discourse.

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and eye gaze). Does the signed language production of Deaf-Blind individuals differ substantially in form from that of Deaf sighted individuals in the context of recounting narratives? If so, how does such production differ, and can the absence of visual signed language nonmanual signals be implicated in the difference(s)? 17.3

Method of this study

17.3.1

Subjects

Four subjects participated in this study of tactile signed language in narrative form. Of the four, two are Deaf and sighted, and two are Deaf and blind. Information about the background of these subjects appears in (1). (1)

Description of subjects r DB1: male, congenitally deaf and blind (Rubella); began to learn sign language at age four; began to learn Braille at age six; age at time of study: 25 r DB2: male, born with hearing and sight, deaf at age five; diagnosed with Usher Syndrome at age 11;9 fully blind at age 19; age at time of study: 34 r D1: female, congenitally deaf, fourth generation Deaf; age at time of study: 28 r D2: male, congenitally deaf, second generation Deaf; age at time of study: 26

The Deaf sighted subjects (D1 and D2) were chosen because they were born deaf, are both children of Deaf parents, and also because both had previously interacted with Deaf-Blind individuals. Thus, D1 and D2 had some experience using signed language tactually, and they were both relatively comfortable communicating with the Deaf-Blind subjects in this study. As a consequence of D1 and D2 having Deaf parents, it is assumed that ASL was learned by each of them in environments that fostered normal language development. Furthermore, they both attended residential schools for the Deaf for their elementary and secondary education, and they both socialize frequently with family and friends in the Deaf community. Different criteria were used for the selection of the Deaf-Blind subjects for the study. DB1 and DB2 were chosen based on their vision and hearing impairments as well as their language competence. Language competence was an important 9

While DB2 reported being diagnosed with Usher Syndrome at age 11, these ages do not correspond with normal onset of blindness in the several standard types of Usher Syndrome patients. It is a possibility that DB2 was misdiagnosed with this condition, which accounts for the ages in question. I thank an anonymous reviewer for pointing out this peculiarity to me.


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criterion for inclusion in this study because the subjects needed to be able to read the story that was presented to them. Both of them had graduated from high school and, at the time of this study, were enrolled in a community college. They appear to be highly functioning individuals as evidenced by their participation in an independent living program that encourages each of them to live in his own apartment and to hold at least part-time employment in the community. Both DB1 and DB2 are nonnative signers inasmuch as their parents are hearing and did not use signed language in the household. Regarding primary and secondary education, there were several similarities between DB1 and DB2. DB1 was educated in schools that used Signed English for communication. However, he reports that he started to learn ASL in high school from a hearing teacher. From the age of five to 19, DB2 also attended schools where Signed English was the primary mode of communication. At the age of 19, he entered a school for the Deaf and began to learn ASL tactually because he was fully blind by this point. DB2 spent three years at this school for the Deaf. Upon graduating, he attended Gallaudet University, but was enrolled for only about one year. Currently, both DB1 and DB2 read Braille and use it daily. In fact, they read periodicals, books from the public library, and other materials written in Braille on a regular basis. Because of this, it is assumed that their reading skills are at least at the level needed to understand the simple narratives that were presented to them. The narratives are discussed below. 17.3.2

Materials

Each subject was presented with a short narrative consisting of 225–275 words. The narratives were written in English for the Deaf sighted subjects and transcribed into Braille for the Deaf-Blind subjects. Each narrative contains dialogue between at least two characters and describes an interaction between these characters. Several yes–no and wh-questions were included in each of these narratives. In an effort to diminish the influence that English structure would have on the signed form of each story, the narratives were presented to all four subjects 24 hours before the videotaping was conducted. Each subject was allowed 30 minutes to read his or her story as many times as he or she wished and was instructed that the story would have to be signed from memory the following day. Each subject only read his or her own story prior to the videotaping. 17.3.3

Procedure

For the videotaping of the narratives, each subject signed his or her story to each of the other subjects in the study one at a time. If a Deaf-Blind subject was the recipient of a narrative, he placed his hand(s) on top of the signer’s hand(s). However, the sighted Deaf subjects did not place their hands on the

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Table 17.1 Narrative and subject order for data collection Segment numbers 1 Storyteller Receiver

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

DB2 D1 DB2 D2 DB1 DB1 D2 D2 D1 D1 DB1 DB2 DB1 DB1 D2 D1 DB2 D1 DB2 DB1 DB2 D2 D2 D1

signer’s hands when they were recipients of narratives. The 12 narratives were videotaped in random order and followed the format in Table 17.1. 17.4

Results/discussion

This presentation of the results begins with general comments regarding the narratives presented by the subjects and then addresses the specific differences between the subjects. Given this format, the reader will see the ways in which the 12 narratives were similar as well as ways in which the narratives differed, presumably as a result of the particular narrator and recipient pairing. 17.4.1

Length and numbers of signs in the narratives

The narratives produced by the four subjects during the videotaping session were similar in length and number of signs produced. The average length of the 12 videotaped narratives was approximately three minutes with the shortest narrative lasting two minutes and the longest lasting four minutes. The narrative with the most lexical signs included 256 signs and the narrative with the least number of lexical signs included 163 signs. Table 17.2 shows the length and total number of lexical signs produced in each narrative. The similarity of the lengths of the 12 narratives and numbers of signs used in those narratives demonstrates that all the subjects produced relatively similar amounts of text. That is, there were not major differences between the subjects such as one subject producing one minute of text and another subject producing five minutes of text. Nor were there major differences in the number of signs produced, such as one subject producing 300 signs and another producing only 50 signs. The similarity of the narratives in terms of length and number of signs produced allows for the quantitative comparison of the use of specific referencing strategies. 17.4.2

Differences between the Deaf sighted and Deaf-Blind narratives

17.4.2.1 The use of deictic points for referential purposes. Each instance of the index finger of the dominant hand pointing at something (other than first person singular) during the recounting of the narratives was coded as

Length (seconds) Number of signs

240 163

DB1 to DB2

210 167

DB1 to D1

205 169

DB1 to D2 190 216

DB2 to DB1 180 256

DB2 to D1 165 237

DB2 to D2

Table 17.2 Signed narratives: Length (in seconds) and number of signs

180 206

D1 to DB1 135 246

D1 to DB2 120 228

D1 to D2 210 176

D2 to DB1

138 169

D2 to DB2

150 201

D2 to D1

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an indexation. Later, the different functions of indexation in the narratives were determined from context, and four categories of indexation surfaced in the data. The Deaf sighted subjects used four different types of indexation, which fulfilled three semantic functions. The four types of indexation are shown in (2). (2)

Types of indexation in the narratives r Type I (third person): the use of a point to the left or right side of the signing space to establish/indicate an arbitrary location in space that is linked to a human referent who is not physically present. r Type II (person CL)10 : the use of a point to a person classifier (G handshape or V handshape) on the nondominant hand. This, too, was used to establish/indicate an arbitrary location in space that is linked to a human referent (or referents in the case of the V handshape) who is not physically present. r Type III (locative/inanimate): the use of a point to establish/indicate an arbitrary location in space that is linked to a locative referent or object referent that is not physically present. r Type IV (second person singular): the use of a point to the recipient of the narrative for asking a question that is directed to a character in the narrative.

While the Deaf sighted subjects used the four types of indexation listed in (2), the Deaf-Blind subjects used indexation (other than first person singular) exclusively in the following environment: the case of one character in the narrative asking a question directed to another character in the narrative (Type IV). As mentioned above, each narrative contained two characters who engaged in dialogue regarding an event that they were planning.11 Within the dialogue, the characters asked yes–no and content wh-questions of each other. In all four narratives, the situation of one character asking another character a question created the environment for the use of indexation. Thus, each subject, while signing his or her narrative, would take on the role of one of the characters and would ask the other character in the narrative a question. In this case, each subject in the study did indeed use indexation, and this point in each of these interrogative phrases can be interpreted as second person singular (YOU). However, the Deaf sighted subjects exhibited a nonmanual “role shift” (either 10

11

Most tokens of Type II indexation were realized with the 1-handshape CL. However, when the V-classifier was used, the signer still pointed to each finger of the V handshape individually. There were tokens of a V handshape occurring with the deictic point involving two fingers (glossed as THEY-TWO), but those tokens were not included in these data. While this study focuses on the use of a single deictic point, further research must be conducted which addresses the use of other deictic pointing devices such as the pronoun THEY-TWO. These questions were designed to elicit the use of nonmanual signals (especially furrowed and raised eyebrows, grammatically significant signals in visual ASL) by the Deaf sighted subjects and to determine what strategies the Deaf-Blind subjects would use to communicate such questions.


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torso or head re-orientation and eye gaze shift) for specifying the message of a different speaker or character, whereas there was no role shifting or eye gaze shifting in the signing of the Deaf-Blind subjects. In fact, the Deaf-Blind subjects’ torsos did not deviate much – if at all – from the default position of facing the receiver of the narrative. As a result, the deictic points that the DeafBlind subjects produced were directed straight out, essentially in the direction of the interlocutor. As an example of the only type of indexation produced by the Deaf-Blind subjects, DB1 used indexation when a character in his narrative asked another character if she wanted to eat fish. The passage is as follows: “D-O IX-forward WANT EAT FISH” (here, IX-forward can also be glossed as YOU or second person singular). Table 17.3 presents the total use of indexation for the functions described in (2) by each subject in the study. What is most evident from Table 17.3 is the use of Types I, II, and III indexation by the Deaf subjects, but not the Deaf-Blind subjects. Figure 17.1 shows the total use of each type of indexation by each subject (summed across all three instances of each narrative). Note that there are no examples of third person singular or of locative deictic points (either to a point in space or to a classifier on the nondominant hand) in the data from the Deaf-Blind subjects in this study, and the only examples of indexation by the same subjects are in the form of second person singular reference in questions addressed to a character in the narrative. As reported in Section 17.2.1.2, Petronio (1988) and Collins and Petronio (1998) have claimed that indexation is used by Deaf-Blind signers to signal that a question is about to be posed to the interlocutor. Based on these claims and the data from the current study, perhaps indexation in DeafBlind signing is used primarily for referring to addressees, either in the context of an interrogative as described previously or presumably in the context of a declarative statement (e.g. I LIKE YOU, YOU MY FRIEND, etc.). Since the Deaf-Blind subjects did not utilize Type I and Type II indexation for pronominal reference in the signed narratives, I now describe how such pronouns were realized by the Deaf-Blind subjects (or whether they used pronouns at all). One of the Deaf-Blind subjects (DB1) used the strategy of fingerspelling the name of the character who would subsequently perform an action. This strategy served a similar function as Types I and II indexation, which was favored by subjects D1 and D2. Not surprisingly, the sighted Deaf subjects also used fingerspelling as a strategy for identifying characters in their narratives. In fact, they often used fingerspelling in conjunction with a deictic point (sometimes following the fingerspelling, sometimes preceding it, and sometimes articulated simultaneously – on the other hand – with the fingerspelling). Table 17.4 shows the use, by subject, of proper names (realized through fingerspelling) in the narratives. It can be seen that DB1, in order to refer to characters in his narratives, fingerspelled the names of the characters, and he used that strategy more times than any other subject did. However, DB2 never used fingerspelling of proper

DB1 to DB2

0 0 0 1

Type of deictic reference

Person (I) Person CL (II) Location (III) 2sg (IV)

0 0 0 1

DB1 to D1

0 0 0 1

DB1 to D2 0 0 0 7

DB2 to DB1

Table 17.3 Use of indexation in the narratives

0 0 0 6

DB2 to D1 0 0 0 6

DB2 to D2 0 6 0 1

D1 to DB1 2 2 0 0

D1 to DB2 13 2 2 0

D1 to D2 7 0 0 1

D2 to DB1 12 0 0 2

D2 to DB2

18 4 3 3

D2 to D1


455

40 35 Type I (third person)

Number of tokens

30

Type II (per CL) Type III (locative/inanimate) Type IV (2sg in narrative)

25 20 15 10 5 0

DB1

Figure 17.1

DB2 D1 Subjects and type of indexation

D2

Total use of indexation by each subject

nouns to make reference to his characters. Rather, DB2 used such signs as GIRL, SHE, MOTHER, and FATHER. Table 17.5 shows the number of times DB2 used the signs for GIRL and the Signed English sign SHE.12 Thus, DB2 did not use indexation for the function of specifying third person singular pronouns nor did he use fingerspelling, but instead referred to his characters with common nouns or Signed English pronouns. The use of SHE by DB2 raises another issue that must be addressed: the use of varying amounts of Signed English by the Deaf-Blind subjects. A discussion of the use of Signed English by the subjects in this study and the implications of such use follows. 17.4.2.2 ASL or Signed English in the narratives? Certain features of Signed English appear in the tactile signed language narratives. Both DeafBlind subjects produced varying degrees of Signed English as evidenced by their use of D-O (ASL does not use English ‘do’), the conjunction AND (which 12

SHE is not an ASL sign but rather an invented sign to represent the English pronoun ‘she.’ Several invented signed systems are used in deaf education throughout the USA in an effort to teach deaf students English; the sign SHE as used by DB2 likely originated in one of these signed systems. In the interest of space I refer to this type of signed language production simply as Signed English.

DB1 to DB2

23

Subjects

Number of tokens

36

DB1 to D1

29

DB1 to D2 0

DB2 to DB1 0

DB2 to D1 0

DB2 to D2 19

D1 to DB1 15

D1 to DB2 16

D1 to D2 15

D2 to DB1

Table 17.4 The use of proper names realized by fingerspelling the name of the character being referred to

18

D2 to DB2

9

D2 to D1


457

Table 17.5 The use of GIRL and SHE by DB2 Subjects

DB2 to DB1

DB2 to D1

DB2 to D2

GIRL SHE

14 0

7 11

7 12

is infrequent in ASL), and – in the case of DB2 – articles and the copula (which do not exist in ASL). Table 17.6 displays the number of times each subject produced the copula, articles, AND, and fingerspelled D-O in each narrative. In contrast to the Deaf-Blind subjects, the Deaf subjects, for the most part, did not use features of Signed English. They did not utilize the copula, articles, and Signed English D-O, and they only used the conjunction AND minimally (D1: four tokens; D2: two tokens). Rather, the sighted Deaf subjects signed ASL with NMS such as eye gaze shifts, head/torso shifts, and grammatical information displayed with the raising or lowering of the eyebrows. In fact, it is the case that the Deaf signers did not discontinue their use of ASL nonmanual signals despite the presumed knowledge that their interlocutors were not receiving those cues. 17.4.2.3 The use of the signing space in signed languages. Users of signed languages utilize the signing space in front of their bodies in several significant ways (Padden 1990). One way is for the production of lexical signs. Many signs – especially verbs – contain movements in the signing space that are part of their citation forms. For example, the ASL sign FOLLOW is produced with an A handshape and movement that begins in front of the torso about chest level and ends about the middle of the signing space directly in front of the signer. Yet another way the signing space is used is to establish, refer to, and/or show relationships between present and nonpresent objects and/or persons in the signing space (Klima and Bellugi 1979). For example, a signer can point to the right hand side of the signing space and then sign a noun such as WOMAN, then the sign FOLLOW-rt13 can be articulated with the movement ending in the direction of the point that was established. This differs from production of the sign FOLLOW in citation form as described above, and this form of the verb FOLLOW exhibits information about the subject and object of the verb: the object is interpreted as the third person form (‘the woman’) that was established on the right side of the signing space. Possible translations of this sequence of signs would be ‘I will follow the woman’ or ‘I followed the woman’ (depending on whether or not a time adverbial had been used previously). By using the signing space to inflect verbs in this manner, a signer can use a number of word orders and is not confined to following strict word order patterns as 13

In this glossing convention, the “-rt” segment indicates that the sign is articulated with movement to the signer’s right side of the signing space.

DB1 to DB2

3 0 16 1

Narrative

Copula Articles AND D-O

2 0 14 1

DB1 to D1

0 0 16 1

DB1 to D2 4 1 12 10

DB2 to DB1

Table 17.6 English features in each narrative

9 6 9 12

DB2 to D1 10 2 11 11

DB2 to D2 0 0 1 0

D1 to DB1 0 0 1 0

D1 to DB2 0 0 2 0

D1 to D2 0 0 1 0

D2 to DB1 0 0 1 0

D2 to DB2

0 0 0 0

D2 to D1


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in English or varieties of Signed English. The signing space can also be used in a grammatical manner in other ways (e.g. aspectual verb modulation; Klima and Bellugi 1979) or to compare and contrast two or more abstract or concrete entities (Winston 1991). Naturally, both Deaf-Blind subjects utilized the signing space for the production of uninflected signs. However, DB1, who is congenitally deaf and blind, also consistently used the signing space for the production of inflected verbs, but that was not the case for DB2. Throughout the narratives, DB1 produced several verbs that have the possibility of undergoing some type of inflection that utilizes the signing space. In the three narratives produced by DB1, I identified 53 instances of a verb that may be inflected, and DB1 executed 45 of those verb tokens with what appears to be inflection that utilized the signing space to specify information about the subject and/or object of the verb. For example, DB1 signed MEET with the right hand held close to his chest while the left hand (in the same handshape) moved from the area to the left and in front of the signer toward the right hand in order to make contact with it. This manner of signing MEET occurred twice across the three narratives. The inflected form has the meaning ‘He/She came from somewhere in that direction, to the left of me, and met me here,’ whereas the uninflected form does not specify location or a category of person. DB1 inflected other verbs as well. The verb SEE was produced nine times in his three narratives; in eight of those instances it was executed with some reference to a target that was being “looked at.” For example, several times DB1 signed SEE with hand and arm movement in an upward fashion. He did this in the context of referring to a mountain. Thus, the sign can be taken to mean that he was ‘looking up the side of the mountain.’ The sign GO was often inflected as well, giving reference to the general location of the action. In contrast to DB1, DB2 did not use the signing space for the inflection of verbs. Rather, strings of signs in his narratives resemble English, which primarily relies on word order for the determination of subject and object in a sentence or phrase. Remember, too, that DB2 used several Signed English elements throughout his narratives. Rather than signing only some verbs with inflection (like DB1), the two sighted Deaf subjects signed almost all their verbs with some type of inflection. That is, they inflected most (if not all) verbs that were produced by them that can be inflected for location. Furthermore, ASL nonmanual signals such as eye gaze and body/torso movement were common in conjunction with the production of verbs, and these nonmanual signals were often used to indicate role shifts. Several facts have been presented above. First, the Deaf sighted subjects produced ASL syntax (along with appropriate nonmanual signals) throughout, while the Deaf-Blind subjects produced versions of Signed English, specifically English word order and some lexical signs that do not exist in ASL. DB2 followed Signed English word order more than DB1, who inflected most verbs in

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his narratives. Thus, at least one of the Deaf-Blind subjects (DB1) used the signing space in a spatially distinctive manner (thus resembling visual ASL), but he still failed to use the deictic point for third person singular or locative reference, which is unlike what would be expected in visual ASL. From these facts it is clear that it is not necessarily the use of Signed English elements or word order that influences the non-occurrence of certain deictic points (specifically, third person singular and location references), but rather something else. It appears that the tactile medium does not support substantial use of deictic points, and perhaps we can hypothesize why this is so. 17.4.3

Accounting for the lack of indexation in the Deaf-Blind narratives

17.4.3.1 Eye gaze as a factor. One explanation for the phenomenon of few cases of indexation in the Deaf-Blind narratives is that the lack of visual eye gaze, which is claimed to function as an agreement marker in visual ASL (Bahan 1996), does not allow for a grammatical pointing system in tactile signed language. Because eye gaze functions as such an important referencing tool in visual ASL, its absence in tactile signed language presumably influences the forms that referencing strategies take in that modality. Perhaps use of the signing space for reference to / establishment of a nominal with a deictic point is not significant for Deaf-Blind users because they are presumably not able to visually perceive the end point of the deictic reference.14 The results of studies of gestural communication in hearing congenitally blind children supports the suggestion that eye gaze may be necessary for the development of a deictic pointing system. In studies of the gestures produced by congenitally blind children while using spoken language to communicate, Iverson et al. (2000) found that deictic points were used infrequently or not at all for referencing objects and locations. Yet, the same blind children used other gestures for deictic purposes despite the fact that they had not had any exposure to manual gestures at all.15 The sighted children in the same study used deictic points frequently while gesturing. The authors give the following account for the lack of production of deictic points by the blind subjects in their study: Blind children used gesture to call attention to specific objects in the environment, but they did so using Palm points rather than Index points. Why might this be the case? When sighted children produce on Index point, they in effect establish a “visual line of regard” extending from the pointer’s eyes along the length of the arm and pointing 14

15

I must emphasize that the suggestions offered to explain the lack of deictic points in the DeafBlind narratives are all based on production data. Comprehension studies of deictic points must be conducted in order to confirm these suggestions. The “other gestures” that I refer to here were defined in Iverson et al. (2000:111) as the following: “showing, or holding up an object in the listener’s potential line of sight,” and “palm points, or extensions of a flat hand in the direction of the referent.”


461

finger toward the referent in gesture. Index points localize the indicated referent with considerable precision – much more precision than the Palm point. It may be that blind children, who cannot use vision to set up a line between the eyes, the index finger, and the gestural referent in distant space, are not able to achieve the kind of precise localization that the Index point affords (indeed, demands). They may therefore make use of the less precise Palm point. (p. 119)

In addition to the Iverson et al. (2000) study, Urwin (1979) and Iverson and Goldin-Meadow (1997) reported that the blind subjects in their studies failed to utilize deictic points for referencing purposes. These studies support the suggestion that eye gaze might be the necessary requirement for the use of deictic points for communication purposes. 17.4.3.2 Displacement as a factor. The Deaf-Blind subjects in the current study only used deictic points when a character in their narratives would ask another character a question, while strategies other than deictic pointing were used for all other pronominal references. One explanation for this sparse use of pointing may have to do with “displacement” (the characteristic of language that allows reference to things that exist in places and times other than the present; Hockett 1966). Perhaps Deaf-Blind individuals reserve deictic points for reference to people and places within the immediate environment, while the use of points to locations in the signing space for linguistic purposes is limited. A rationale for this assertion is given below, but the minimal use of deictic points to characters in the Deaf-Blind narratives must first be accounted for. As described in Section 17.2.2, deictic points in ASL serve various semantic functions, some that are claimed to be linguistic and others that have been analyzed as gestural or nonlinguistic. The sighted Deaf subjects in this study used points for various purposes, but the Deaf-Blind subjects only used points when showing that a question was being asked to a character in the narratives. There is only one way to refer to a second person singular pronoun in signed language, and that is by pointing to the location (real or imagined) of second person singular. There does not exist a commonly used nondeictic Signed English pronoun for second person singular, and signers do not normally fingerspell Y-O-U. Thus, the Deaf-Blind subjects had no choice but to use the deictic point in this manner. However, there are alternatives in signed language to using a point for third person singular reference. Such strategies include (but may not be limited to) fingerspelling the name of the person being referred to, using a sign name, or using a Signed English pronoun. All of these forms of third person reference were used by the Deaf-Blind subjects in this study. Perhaps Deaf-Blind individuals prefer to use strategies other than pointing to reference third person singular characters because such points have the potential of being ambiguous. Points to third person singular can have the same phonetic form as

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points to the following entities: an object in a narrative, a location in a narrative, or even a third person singular entity that is physically present in the immediate environment, but not in a narrative. However, it is likely the case that Deaf-Blind signers do use points when referring to the location of people and objects in the immediate environment. I have learned – based on discussions with several sighted professionals who work with Deaf-Blind individuals – that indexation is indeed used frequently by sighted signers when describing to Deaf-Blind signers the location of people and objects in the immediate environment. After such a locative reference has been established, a Deaf-Blind individual can then point to that location to refer to the specific person or location in the immediate environment. Yet, in the case of the narratives in this study where displacement was involved, perhaps the Deaf-Blind signers chose not to use deictic points because of the ambiguous nature of such points. 17.4.3.3 Reception in the tactile modality. Another explanation for the lack of deictic points in the tactile medium can be posited by referring to claims made by Reed et al. (1995) regarding perception. As was reviewed in Section 17.2.1.1, Reed et al. found that handshape errors were most prevalent in the identification of signs presented in sentences. In other words, when tested to see if they could reproduce signs that had been presented to them within a sentence (both ASL and PSE sentences), the subjects made the most errors in the phonological parameter of handshape. Perhaps Deaf-Blind signers find it difficult to perceive and interpret the handshape of a deictic point within a sentence. This could be due to several factors: the speed at which the signs are produced, the direction of the point, the limited size of the signing space in tactile signed language,16 and/or the fact that points serve various semantic functions as outlined in Section 17.2.2. 17.4.4

Putting it all together

This study of deictic points by Deaf-Blind individuals has reinforced the description presented in Section 17.4.2.3: the signing space is used and can be defined in various ways. It is partly phonological in nature, allowing a signer to articulate the phonological parameters of movement and location in space, partly based on movement of the sign through various contrastive locations in the signing space, and partly grammatical in nature. A Deaf-Blind signer can 16

As mentioned in Section 17.2.1.2, Collins and Petronio (1998) described that the signing space for Deaf-Blind individuals is smaller because of the close proximity of the signer and interlocutor. This claim can also be made for the signing of the Deaf-Blind subjects in this study. In general, there were no significant displacements of the hands/arms from the signing space other than movement to contact the head/face area.


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perceive the movement of verbs through the signing space as the verbs specify subject and object in a phrase because perception simply requires that a DeafBlind receiver follow the signer’s hands as he or she moves through contrastive locations in the signing space. Following this line of reasoning, a Deaf-Blind signer would presumably use the signing space for production and reception of aspectual modification, which also involves specialized movement of the hands through the signing space. However, there were no cases of aspectual modification of verbs in the Deaf-Blind narratives. Yet, the data from this study suggest that at least one use of the signing space may have a visual component that would influence the manner in which a Deaf-Blind person would use sign language. Specifically, the lack of deictic points for referencing purposes in the Deaf-Blind narratives suggests that eye gaze may play a significant role in the realization of deictic points. This means that some uses of the signing space can be carried out without eye gaze support and some uses likely rely upon eye gaze support to be executed. 17.5

Questions to consider

While the two Deaf-Blind subjects in the present study produced various versions of Signed English, Collins and Petronio (1998) claimed that Deaf-Blind subjects can and do sign ASL in the tactile modality. If so, how does deictic reference manifest itself in that type of signing? What, if any, modifications are made to visual ASL that disambiguate the intended referent of a deictic sign? Is Signed English a substitute for ASL in ambiguous structures in the tactile signed language used in North America? As mentioned before, is there a deictic system of indexation in tactile sign language that is akin to that of visual ASL, or are deictic points primarily used to refer to people and locations in the immediate environment? More data on casual conversations among Deaf-Blind people are needed to address questions such as these. In the data from this study, we have seen that versions of Signed English were used by the Deaf-Blind subjects which contained no deictic points for pronoun and location reference. Perhaps we also need to determine if the same phenomenon occurs in the use of visual signed language. That is, do deictic points occur less frequently when sighted Deaf signers use Signed English as opposed to ASL? Lastly, do congenitally deaf and blind individuals use the signing space, especially syntactically, in a unique manner because of their language acquisition experience and the sensory tools that are available to them? Moreover, can we theorize about the form of a signed language in the tactile modality if it were allowed to evolve without a significant amount of influence from visual signed language? There seem to be many interesting questions in this area of study.

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One limitation of the current study is that the Deaf subjects are native signers while the Deaf-Blind subjects are late learners of signed language. It would be ideal to also investigate the signed language production of Deaf-Blind signers who acquired signed language following a regular acquisition process and timeline. However, the incidence of children who are congenitally deaf and blind and who also have Deaf parents is quite low. Alternatively, future investigations could include Deaf sighted subjects who are late learners of language in order to make matched comparisons with Deaf-Blind late-learners of language. 17.6

Conclusions

This chapter has examined language that is perceived by touch and has compared it to signed language that is perceived by vision. Integral to visual–gestural language is the use of nonmanual signals (e.g. eyebrow shifts, head and torso movement, and eye gaze, to name a few). What, then, are the consequences of the presumed inability of Deaf-Blind users of signed language to perceive such nonmanual signals? This study has begun to address this issue. Based on the narrative data presented here, the signed language production of Deaf-Blind individuals does differ in form from that of sighted Deaf individuals. Specifically, sighted Deaf signers utilize nonmanual signals (such as eyebrow shifts, head orientation, and eye gaze) extensively, while Deaf-Blind signers do not. In addition, sighted Deaf signers utilize deictic points for referential purposes while Deaf-Blind signers use other strategies to accomplish the same task. It appears that the ability to perceive eye gaze is a crucial component in the realization of deictic points for referential purposes. Regarding the use of the deictic point, the Deaf sighted subjects in this study used such points in four general ways in order to fulfill three semantic functions (reference to third person singular, to a location or object at a location, and to second person singular). On the other hand, the Deaf-Blind subjects used deictic points exclusively to fulfill one function (second person singular reference). In addition, the Deaf sighted subjects produced ASL, while the Deaf-Blind subjects each produced a unique version of Signed English. One Deaf-Blind subject (DB1) used the signing space to inflect verbs for location, whereas the other Deaf-Blind subject (DB2) did not. This shows that the signing space can be used contrastively in tactile signed language, but some uses of the signing space in visual signed language – such as the use of deictic points – do not seem to be as robust in the tactile modality. As mentioned above, the difficulty in perceiving eye gaze presumably restricts the manner in which Deaf-Blind signers use deictic points. This suggestion is similar to findings regarding congenitally blind children who have


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normal hearing: they rarely utilize deictic points for gestural purposes. The manner in which blind individuals (both hearing and Deaf ) – especially those who are congenitally blind – conceive of the space around them may also differ from sighted individuals. More research is certainly needed to understand the language use of blind and Deaf-Blind individuals more fully; there are many more insights to be gained from research on the role of vision in language. Acknowledgments I would like to thank Carol Padden and an anonymous reviewer for their insightful comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. This study was supported in part by a Graduate Opportunity Fellowship from the University of Texas at Austin to the author, a grant (F 31 DC00352-01) from the National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders (NIDCD) and National Institutes of Health (NIH) to the author; and an NIDCD/NIH grant (RO1 DC01691-04) to Richard P. Meier. 17.7

References

Bahan, Benjamin 1996. Non-manual realization of agreement in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, Boston University. Bahan, Benjamin, Judy Kegl, Dawn MacLaughlin, and Carol Neidle. 1995. Convergent evidence for the structure of determiner phrases in American Sign Language. In FLSM VI. Proceedings of the Sixth Annual Meeting of the Formal Linguistics Society of Mid-America, Vol. Two: Syntax II & Semantics/Pragmatics, ed. Leslie Gabriele, Debra Hardison, and Robert Westmoreland, 1–12. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Linguistics Club. Baker, Charlotte. 1976a. Eye-openers in American Sign Language. California Linguistics Association Conference Proceedings. Baker, Charlotte. 1976b. What’s not on the other hand in American Sign Language. In Papers from the Twelfth Regional Meeting of the Chicago Linguistics Society. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Baker, Charlotte., and Carol A. Padden. 1978. Focusing on the nonmanual components of American Sign Language. In Understanding language through sign language research, ed. Patricia Siple, 27–57. New York: Academic Press. Bendixen, B. 1975. Eye behaviors functioning in American Sign Language. Unpublished manuscript, Salk Institute and University of California, San Diego, CA. Cokely, Dennis. 1983. When is a pidgin not a pidgin? An alternative analysis of the ASL-English contact situation. Sign Language Studies 38:1–24. Collins, Steve, and Karen Petronio. 1998. What happens in Tactile ASL? In Pinky extension and eyegaze: Language in deaf communities, ed. Ceil Lucas, 18–37. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth. 1993. The ubiquitous point. Sign 6:2–10.

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Hockett, Charles F. 1966. The problem of universals in language. In Universals of language, ed. Joseph H. Greenberg, 1–29. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Iverson, Jana M., and Susan Goldin-Meadow. 1997. What’s communication got to do with it? Gesture in children blind from birth. Developmental Psychology 33:453– 467. Iverson, Jana M., Heather L. Tencer, Jill Lany, and Susan Goldin-Meadow. 2000. The relation between gesture and speech in congenitally blind and sighted languagelearners. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 24:105–130. Kegl, Judy A. 1986. Clitics in American Sign Language. In The syntax of pronominal clitics, ed. Hagit Borer, 285–309. New York: Academic Press. Kegl, Judy A. 1995. The manifestation and grammatical analysis of clitics in American Sign Language. Papers from the Regional Meetings, Chicago Linguistic Society 31:140–167. Klima, Edward S. and Ursula Bellugi. 1979. The signs of language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Liddell, Scott K. 1980. American Sign Language syntax. The Hague: Mouton. Liddell, Scott K. 1995. Real, Surrogate, and token space: Grammatical consequences in ASL. In Language, gesture, and space, eds. Karen Emmorey and Judy Reilly, 19–41. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Lillo-Martin, Diane, and Edward S. Klima. 1990. Pointing out differences: ASL pronouns in syntactic theory. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan Fischer and Patricia Siple, 191–210. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Liddell, Scott K. and Melanie Metzger. 1998. Gesture in sign language discourse. Journal of Pragmatics 30:657–697. Meier, Richard P. 1990. Person deixis in American Sign Language. In Theoretical issues in sign language research, Vol. 1: Linguistics, ed. Susan Fischer and Patricia Siple, 175–190. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Padden, Carol. 1983. Interaction of morphology and syntax in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, San Diego, CA. Padden, Carol. 1990. The relation between space and grammar in ASL verb morphology. In Sign language research: Theoretical issues, ed. Ceil Lucas, 118–132. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Petronio, Karen. 1988. Interpreting for Deaf-Blind students: Factors to consider. American Annals of the Deaf 133:226–229. Petronio, Karen. 1993. Clause structure in American Sign Language. Doctoral dissertation, University of Washington. Reed, Charlotte M., Lorraine A. Delhorne, Nathaniel I. Durlach, and Susan D. Fischer. 1990. A study of the tactual and visual reception of fingerspelling. Journal of Speech and Hearing Research 33:786–797. Reed, Charlotte M., Nathaniel I. Durlach, and Lorraine A. Delhorne. 1992. Natural methods of tactual communication. In Tactile aids for the hearing impaired, ed. Ian R. Summers, 218–230. London: Whurr. Reed, Charlotte M., Lorraine A. Delhorne, Nathaniel I. Durlach, and Susan D. Fischer. 1995. A study of the tactual reception of Sign Language. Journal of Speech and Hearing Research 38:477–489. Urwin, Cathy 1979. Preverbal communication and early language development in


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blind children. Papers and Reports in Child Language Development 17:119– 127. Winston, Elizabeth A. 1991. Spatial referencing and cohesion in an American Sign Language text. Sign Language Studies 73:397–409. Woodward, James. 1973. Some characteristics of Pidgin Sign English. Sign Language Studies 3:39–46. Yarnall, Gary D. 1980. Preferred methods of communication of four Deaf-Blind Adults: A field report of four selected case studies. Journal of Rehabilitation of the Deaf 13:1–8.

Index

Aarons, Debra 175, 196, 403 Abd-El-Jawad, Hassan 128, 139 Ablorh-Odjidja, J.R. 271, 292 Abney, Steven P. 305, 308, 318 Abu-Salim, Issam 128, 139 acquisition: see language acquisition Ades, Anthony 93, 108 Ahlgren, Inger 253, 259, 312, 318, 354, 358, 366, 374, 400 Akamatsu, C. Tane 147, 163 Allan, Keith 297, 318, 397, 400 Alphei, H. 37, 62 Ameka, Felix K. 69, 84 American Sign Language (ASL): acquisition of 4, 12, 143, 256; auxiliaries and 19, 252, 324; categorical perception 10; classifiers and 19, 397; compounds in 3, 72–73, 154; deaf education and 32, 161–162; definiteness in 238; deictic points 446, 461, 463; dictionaries of 69, 72; English-influenced signing vs. 444, 445, 455; grammaticization and 199–202, 171, 207, 210–212, 214; history of 12, 201, 230; iconicity 172; indefinite determiners 301, 303; joints of the arm and hand 9, 43, 205; lexicalization of gesture 168, 207, 210, 171; MCE systems 17, 32, 146–148, 150, 160; mimetic devices 169–170; modals in 13, 201, 207–209, 212, 220; morphological processes (inflectional & derivational) 3, 16, 30, 48–50, 151–153; narratives/poetry 102–103; negation 275–276, 284, 432; non-manual behaviors and 19, 446, 447, 459; null arguments 4, 114; perception and 94–95, 101, 462; person 18, 247–248, 254, 323–324, 355–356, 359–362; phonetic constraints in 258, 392–395; phonological assimilation and 123; phonological

constraints (see Battison’s Constraints) 149–155; phonological structure 286; phonological units & patterns 27, 321, 134; possessives 306–308; pronouns and 18, 245–246, 250, 299, 306–307, 323–324, 328, 333–340, 345, 350, 354, 355, 365, 396, 446; rate of sign production 8, 132, 158; repetition in 68, 73, 74; role shift in 255, 447; slips of the hand 3, 28–29, 116, 126–129, 133; split negation in 238, 276; syllable structure of 106; syntax of 2–4, 237, 275–278, 297, 317; tactile signed language and 445, 459–460, 462, 463; topic marking in 201, 212–218; use of space in 245–246, 321–323, 326, 447, 457, 460; verb agreement 3–4, 51, 245–246, 248–252, 322, 324, 325, 371, 376, 380–382; verb classes 19, 51, 246, 380; wh questions in 446, 449; yes/no questions in 201, 212–218, 446, 449 Anderson, Roger 160, 162 Anderson, Stephen R. 62, 68, 84, 346, 350, 366 Anderson-Forbes, Meribeth 69, 86 animacy 380–383 aphasia 124, 256 apraxia 422, 427, 429, 436, 438–439 Arabic 128, 228 Aranda 34–45, 332–33 Arbib, Michael A. 200, 222 arbitrariness 14, 15 argument structure 385–386, 395 Armstrong, David F. 167, 173, 200, 220 Arnheim, Rudolph 184, 196 Arnold, Richard 69, 85 Aronoff, Mark 16, 21, 252, 256–257, 259, 344, 366, 384, 399–400 articulatory-perceptual interface 15, 392, 395, 399, 242–244, 385–389

469

470

Index

Asheninca 331–32, 344–45 ASL: see American Sign Langauge assimilation 123, 154–56, 158–159 Athabascan languages 322 Aubry, Luce 391, 400 Auslan 231, 233, 345, 372, 376, 338–40, 6 Australian Sign Language: see Auslan auxiliary verbs 19, 176, 252, 324, 383–384 Baars, Bernard 117, 139, 141 babbling: manual 7, 43; vocal 9 Bahan, Benjamin 23, 175, 196, 251, 259, 261, 294, 301, 303, 306, 307, 308, 309, 311, 318, 319, 354, 368, 374, 375, 391, 400, 403, 417, 420, 424, 432, 440, 445, 446, 462, 463, 465 Bainouk 257, 259 Baker, Charlotte 213, 220, 338, 363, 366, 446, 447, 460, 465 Baker, Mark 383, 386, 397, 400 Baker-Shenk, Charlotte 396, 400 Battison, Robbin 3, 21, 32, 33, 39, 61, 68, 84, 95, 108, 149–51, 154, 157, 162 Battison’s constraints 32, 149 Baumbach, E.J.M. 289, 292 Bavelier, Daphne 4, 21, 23 Bebian, Roch-Ambroise 145, 146, 162 Becker-Donner, Etta 284, 292 Bella Bella 347–49 Bellugi, Ursula 2–4, 8, 14, 19, 21–22, 27, 28, 29, 32, 33, 62, 72, 85, 102, 103, 108, 110, 116, 124, 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 132, 133, 140, 141, 151, 158, 162, 163, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 175, 197, 234, 236, 261, 296, 311, 318, 319, 323, 325, 333, 366, 367, 373, 396, 402, 427, 429, 436, 441, 457, 459, 466 Bendixen, B. 447, 465 Benson, Philip J. 10, 21 Bentin, Shlomo 46, 62 Benton, Arthur L. 426, 440 Benton, R.A. 347, 366 Benveniste, Emile 363, 366 Berber 325, 437, 438 Berg, Thomas 115, 117, 133, 139 Bergman, Brita 213, 220, 272, 292, 312, 318 Bever, Thomas G. 93, 97, 111, 145, 162 Bickerton, Derek 12, 21 Bickford, Albert 226, 235 Blake, Joanna 210, 221 Blondel, Marion 103, 109

Bloom, Paul 10–11, 24, 323, 327, 351, 368 Bloomfield, Leonard 1–2, 21 Boas, Franz 349, 366 Bobaljik, Jonathan 371, 400 Bornstein, Harry 157, 162 borrowings, lexical 2, 3, 224, 230–235 Bos, Heleen 19, 21, 176, 197, 237, 252, 259, 384, 400 Boyes-Braem, Penelope 272, 292 Bradley, Lynette 102, 109 Braun, Allen 4, 23 Brauner, Siegmund 281, 293 Brazilian Portuguese 371 Brazilian Sign Language (LSB) 4, 19–20, 231, 233, 251, 324 Bregman, Albert S. 36, 38, 61 Brentari, Diane 3, 5, 10, 21–22, 27, 30, 33, 38, 39, 41, 42, 44, 52, 60, 61, 68, 81, 84, 88, 93, 109, 130, 132, 139, 205, 221, 263, 285, 286, 292, 293, 296, 318, 387, 400 Brinkley, Jim 108, 109 British Sign Language (BSL) 6, 19, 213, 231, 233, 325, 372, 384, 396, 422–441 Broselow, Ellen 400, 395 Brouland, Josephine 202, 204, 209, 211, 221 Brown, Roger 156, 162 Bryant, Peter 102, 109 Butterworth, Brian 112, 139 Bybee, Joan L. 199, 202, 206–210, 219, 221 Campbell, Ruth 10, 21 Cantonese 297, 298, 303, 306, 309–310, 311, 315 Capell, A. 280, 293 Caramazza, Alfonso 117, 139 Caron, B. 268, 293 Cassell, Justine 198 Casterline, Dorothy C. 2, 24, 27, 33, 69, 86, 88, 111, 147, 164, 373, 404 categorical perception 10 categorical structure 177, 178, 179, 191, 195 Channon, Rachel; see also Crain, Rachel Channon 81, 83, 84, 85 Chao, Chien-Min 69, 85 Chao, Y.R. 56, 61 Charlier, M. 295 Chase, C. 37, 61

Index Cheek, Adrianne 7, 21 Cheng, Lisa 297, 305, 318 Cherry-Shuman, Mary Margaret 69, 73, 86 Chinchor, Nancy 337, 366 Chinese 56, 57, 61, 114, 131, 191–195, 303, 309–310 Chinese Sign Language 19, 172, 234 Chomsky, Noam 36, 61, 112, 114, 137, 138, 139, 144, 145, 162, 169, 241, 242, 254, 259, 291, 293, 370, 384, 386, 387, 400 Christopher; see linguistic savant Chu, His-Hsiung 69, 85 Clark, Vince 4, 23 classifiers 19, 322, 325, 342, 352, 405, 436–437, 438, 452, 453 Clements, George N. 36, 39, 43, 61 Coerts, Jane 213, 221, 272, 293 Cohn, Jim 103, 109 Cokely, Dennis 213, 220, 338, 363, 366, 396, 400, 443, 465 Collett, Peter 173 Collins, Steve 445, 446, 462, 463, 465 Colombo, Lucia 89, 93, 110 compounds 2, 3, 66, 72–74, 79, 80, 81, 83, 84, 85, 154 Comrie, Bernard 370, 371, 377, 380, 400 conceptual iconicity 357–58, 365 conceptual structure 385–389, 392, 399 Conlin, Kimberly E. 7, 23, 63 consonants 45–47, 93, 94, 97, 102, 106, 133 convention, linguistic 15, 178–179, 188–190 Cooper, Franklin 93, 110 Coppola, Marie 12, 19, 22, 262 Corina, David P. 4, 21, 23, 27, 29, 30, 33, 39, 62, 80, 82, 85, 88, 89, 92, 94, 97, 102, 104, 108, 109, 110, 124, 133, 139, 352, 366, 368 Cormier, Kearsy 237, 336, 362–63, 366, 375, 385, 396, 400, 401 Costello, Elaine 66, 69, 72, 73, 85 Coulter, Geoffrey R. 56, 62, 63, 68, 85, 290, 293 Crain, Rachel Channon; see also Channon, Rachel 81, 82, 85 Crain, Stephen 112, 113, 139, 296, 318 Crasborn, Onno 46, 62 Creissels, D. 288, 289, 293 creole languages 12, 13 critical period 4

471 Croft, William 219, 221 Croneberg, Carl G. 2, 24, 27, 33, 69, 86, 88, 111, 147, 164, 373, 404 crosslinguistic comparisons, lexical similarity across signed languages 172, 232–235 Cutler, Anne 93, 97, 109, 111, 115, 139 ¨ Dahl, Osten 219, 263, 293 Danish Sign Language 18, 19, 123, 172, 234, 248, 324, 338–340, 345, 359–361 Davis, Barbara L. 9, 22 de Haan, Ferdinand 209, 221 de l’Epée, Abbé Charles M. 62, 144–146, 162 deaf education: Brazil 224; France 67, 144, 145, 146, 224, 234; Mexico 224–225, 235; USA 145, 146–147, 159–161 Deaf-Blind signers 326, 442–465 definiteness 32, 238, 298–305, 307–309 deixis 345–50, 358, 361, 446–447, 460–461 DeJorio, Andrea 168, 173 Del Viso, Susana 128, 140 Delhorne, Lorraine 443, 444, 466 Dell, Gary 112, 115, 128, 140 DeMateo, Asa 245, 260 demonstratives 345–50, 365 design features of language 2, 3, 4, 14 determiners 298–305, 314–315 Deuchar, Margaret 272, 293 Deutsche Gebärdensprache (DGS): see German Sign Language Diessel, Holger 345, 347–48, 365, 366 Distributed Morphology 258, 264, 285 Dixon, R. M. W. 56, 62 Dodrill, Carl 108, 109 Dommergues, Jean 107, 110 Dowd, Dorothy 29, 33 Duncan, Susan 182, 196, 197, 401 Durlach, Nathaniel 443, 444, 466 Dutch 137 Efron, David 170, 173 Ehrlenkamp, Sonja 372, 401 Ekman, Paul 170, 173 Elman, Jeffrey 92, 109 emblem: see gesture, conventional Emmorey, Karen 10, 21, 22, 62, 63, 64, 89, 92, 102, 108, 109, 169, 170, 171, 173, 183, 184, 197, 322, 325, 342, 391, 405, 414, 419, 420, 407–408, 410–412

472

Index

Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth 18–19, 22, 237, 248, 255, 260, 324, 326, 354, 366, 405, 419, 420, 446, 465, 338–39, 359–61 English 15, 17, 93, 97–102, 107–108, 112, 114, 128, 134, 147, 156–158, 161, 202, 207–208, 210, 253–254, 309, 330–31, 345–46, 349, 371, 379, 424, 426, 428, 431–432, 435, 438, 459 Eriksson, Per 202–203, 221 Estonian 278, 284 Evans, Alan 102, 111 eyegaze 170, 447, 453, 459, 460, 461, 463, 464 Falgier, Brenda 410–412, 414, 419, 420 Fant, Gunnar 62 Fant, Lou 69, 85 Farnell, Brenda 342, 366 Fauconnier, Gilles 185, 197, 310, 318, 357, 366, 376, 401 Feinberg, Tod 29, 33 Feldman, Heidi 12, 16, 22 Ferber, Rosa 129, 140 Fiengo, Robert 385, 401 fingerspelling 3, 83, 325, 423, 444, 453, 461 Fischer, Susan D. 3–4, 8, 21–22, 51, 62, 68, 85, 158, 162, 175, 197, 237, 244, 252, 260, 338, 341, 367, 370, 373, 375, 384, 391, 397, 401, 444, 466 Fodor, Jerry A. 112, 140, 423, 440 Forchheimer, Paul 332, 367 Fortescue, Michael 56, 62 Fourestier, Simone 397, 401 Fox, Peter 102, 110 Frackowiak, Richard 102, 110 Frajzyngier, Zygmunt 280, 293 French 145, 146, 206–207, 266, 284, 426 French Sign Language (LSF) 5, 13, 19, 21, 168, 172, 201–211, 224–235 Freuenfelder, Uli 107, 110 Freyd, Jennifer 179, 197 Friedman, Lynne 333, 367, 373, 377, 401 Friedman, Victor A. 348–49, 367 Friel-Patti, Sandy 160, 164 Friesen, Wallace V. 170, 173 Frishberg, Nancy 202, 221, 230, 235 Frith, Christopher 102, 110 Fromkin, Victoria A. 3, 22, 112, 115, 133, 140, 296, 318

Frost, Ram 46, 62 Furuyama, Nobuhiro 418, 420 Gã 270, 284 Gambino, Giuseppe 338, 368 Gangel-Vasquez, J. 424, 440 Garc´ıa-Albea, José 128, 140 Garrett, Merrill F. 112, 115, 121, 125, 128, 133, 140 Gaustad, Martha 156, 162 Gee, James 113, 132, 140, 160, 162, 374, 397, 401 gender, morphological 324, 329–333, 340–341, 344, 353, 363–64 generics 297, 308–309 Gerken, LouAnn 156, 160 German 113, 119, 127, 131, 133, 371, 426 German Sign Language (DGS) 3, 5, 6, 20, 29, 31, 112–138, 238, 248, 252, 272, 277, 284, 286, 290, 324, 372, 376, 379–384, 391–392, 396–397 gesture 13, 167, 171, 196, 361, 183–184, 200–201; abstract deixis and 176, 182, 187; blind children and 169, 460, 465; child language development 167, 168, 176; conventional 168, 170, 179, 180, 186, 206–207, 210–214; evolution of language 167, 200, 210–214; gesticulation and 168, 169, 11–12, 180–182; in a linguistic savant 428–429; lexicalized 168; linguistic vs. non-linguistic 169, 249, 325, 170–71, 175–176, 253–254, 257–259, 357–58; modality-free definition of 177, 187; Neopolitan 168, 207, 210; non-manual behaviors as 217–220; speech synchronized (see also: gesture, gesticulation and); spoken 187–188 Gilman, Leslie 156, 162 Giurana, Enza 338, 368 Givón, Talmy 199, 221 Gjedde, Albert 102, 111 Glück, Susanne 273, 274, 278, 293, 294 Goldinger, Stephen 89, 92, 110 Goldin-Meadow, Susan 11–12, 16, 22, 168, 169, 173, 200, 222, 461, 465 Goldsmith, John 39, 47, 54, 61, 62, 284, 290, 293 Goodglass, Harold 427, 440 Goodhart, Wendy 113, 132, 140, 160, 162, 163, 397, 401 Gough, Bonnie 175, 197, 373, 375, 401

Index gradient structure 179, 186–187, 189 grammaticization 199–202, 205–208, 210–212, 216–220 Green, David M. 37, 62 Greenberg, Joseph 224, 233, 235, 370 Grinevald, Collette 397, 401 Groce, Nora E. 12, 22, 225, 235 Grosjean, Francois 158, 163 Guerra Currie, Anne-Marie P. 226, 235 Gustason, Gerilee 147, 163 Haegeman, Liliane 266, 293 Haiman, John 57, 62, 213–214, 221 Haitian Creole 13 Hale, Kenneth 333, 367 Halle, Morris 36, 41, 61, 258, 260, 264, 265, 279, 293 Hamburger, Marybeth 89, 111 Hamilton, Lillian 157, 162 Hamsher, Kerry 426, 440 Happ, Daniela 114, 117, 127, 140 Harley, Heidi 264, 294 Harré, Rom 330, 332–33, 368 Hartmann, Katharina 268, 269, 270, 294 Háusá 268, 284 Henrot, F. 295 Hermelin, B. 426, 441 Herzig, Melissa 405, 419, 420 Hewes, Gordon W. 200, 221 Hickock, Gregory 4, 22, 108, 110, 407, 420 Hildebrandt, Ursula 104, 108, 110 Hinch, H.E. 280, 293 Hinshaw, Kevin 108, 109 Hirsh, Ira J. 62 Hockett, Charles 2–3, 15, 22, 461, 465 Hohenberger, Annette 114, 117, 127, 140 Holzrichter, Amanda S. 42, 62, 68, 85, 226, 235 home signs 12, 168, 225 Hong Kong Sign Language (HKSL) 5, 238, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 309, 312, 314, 315, 316, 317 Hopper, Paul 199, 205–206, 212, 221 Hua 57, 62, 214 Hulst, Harry van der; see van der Hulst, Harry Huet, Eduardo 224, 225, 235 Hume, Elizabeth V. 39, 43, 61 Humphries, Tom 204, 209, 211, 221 Hyman, L.M. 288, 289, 294

473 iconicity: 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 83, 167, 225, 171–72, 233–235, 357–358, 365, 430, 438; shared symbolism 224, 229 Idioma de Señas de Nicaragua (ISN): see Nicaraguan Sign Language Igoa, José 128, 140 indexation: deictic points 443, 446, 452, 453, 455, 460, 461, 462, 463; indexic signs 224, 233 indices (referential) 253–257 indigenous signed languages: Mexico 225, 71–72; Southeast Asia 21 Indo-European 130, 131 Indo-Pakistan Sign Language 72, 73, 338–40, 345, 353, 363 Ingram, David 338, 355, 367 initialized signs 227, 235 Inkelas, Sharon 50, 64 International Phonetic Association 70, 85 Israeli Sign Language 16, 19, 69, 72, 73, 74, 248 Italian 3, 114 Italian Sign Language (LIS) 203, 338–40, 345 Itô, Junko 39, 42 Iverson, Jana M. 168, 169, 173, 460, 461, 465 Jackendoff, Ray 242, 260, 386, 387, 401 Jakobson, Roman 41, 62 Janis, Wynne 51, 62, 250, 260, 372, 375, 382, 401 Janzen, Terry 200, 205, 212, 214–218, 220, 222 Japanese 93, 371 Japanese Federation of the Deaf 69, 71, 85 Japanese Sign Language (NS) 5, 6, 20, 72, 73, 172, 224–229, 232, 234, 245, 252, 363, 344–45, 338–42, 372, 376, 380, 384, 396 Jenkins, J. 46, 62 Jenner, A.R. 37, 61 Jescheniak, Jörg 115, 140 Jezzard, Peter 4, 23 Johnson, Mark 186, 197 Johnson, Robert E. 27, 33, 44, 46, 58, 63, 68, 86, 88, 110, 154, 163, 175, 197, 225, 235, 356, 367, 374, 402 Johnston, Trevor 231, 232, 236, 338, 367, 391, 402

474

Index

Kaplan, Edith 427, 440 Karni, Avi 4, 23 Kaufman, Terrence 231, 236 Kayne, Richard 291, 294 Kean, Mary-Louise 130, 140 Keenan, Edward L. 18, 346, 350, 366 Kegl, Judy A. 12–13, 19, 22–23, 173, 175, 196, 261, 294, 296, 301, 303, 306, 307, 308, 309, 311, 318, 319, 354, 368, 374, 397, 401, 403, 404, 417, 420, 424, 432, 440, 446, 465 Keller, Jörge 372, 375, 402 Kendon, Adam 69, 85, 170, 173, 207, 210, 222, 388, 402 Kennedy, Graeme D. 69, 85, 226, 231, 233, 236 Kenstowicz, Michael 65, 69, 70, 85, 288, 294 Kettrick, Catherine 69, 85 Khasi 346–48 Kimura, Doreen 423, 427, 440 Kinande 288 Kinyarwanda 282, 284 Kipare 290 Kiparsky, Paul 177, 197 Kita, Sotaro 184, 197, 200, 222, 389, 390, 402 Klima, Edward S. 2–4, 8, 14, 19, 22, 27, 28, 29, 32, 33, 52, 58, 62, 73, 85, 102, 103, 108, 110, 116, 123, 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 132, 133, 140, 141, 151, 158, 163, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 175, 197, 234, 236, 237, 245, 247, 252, 253, 255, 261, 296, 311, 318, 319, 323, 325, 330, 333, 335, 349, 354, 356, 358, 366, 367, 368, 373, 374, 396, 402, 407, 420, 427, 429, 441, 446, 457, 459, 466 Kohlrausch, A. 37, 62 Kyle, Jim G. 69, 85, 232, 233, 234, 236 Labov, William 410, 420 Lacy, Richard 374, 402 Ladd, Robert 177, 197 Lak 347–49 Lakoff, George 186, 197, 402 Lalwani, Anil 4, 23 Landau, Barbara 156, 162 Lane, Harlan 62, 63, 67, 86, 103, 111, 144, 146, 147, 163, 202, 222, 333, 350–353, 367 Langacker, Ronald W. 179, 185, 197, 402 language acquisition 2, 4, 12, 16, 17, 143–45, 151, 156–58, 160, 161, 250, 256, 423, 425, 429, 434

language contact and change: cognate signs 231; lexical borrowing 224, 230–235 language contact and change normal transmission 231–232 language faculty 241–242, 423 language planning 144–47, 160, 161 language processing 31, 89, 92, 145, 156 language production 112, 115, 132, 135, 138 language typology 56–57, 114, 129, 131, 139 language universals: formal 370, 396, 398; substantive 370, 373, 394, 398, 399 Langue de Signes Fran¸caise (LSF): see French Sign Language Lany, Jill 173, 466 LaSasso, Carol 161, 163 Last, Marco 337, 367 lateralization 2, 4 Latin 207 Launer, Patricia 151, 163 Laycock, Donald C. 332, 367 Lee, Robert G. 23, 261, 294, 301, 303, 306, 307, 308, 309, 311, 318, 319, 354, 368, 374, 403, 417, 420, 424, 432, 440 Lehmann, Christian 379, 380, 402 lengthening 44, 52, 53, 54 Lengua de Señas Mexicana (LSM): see Mexican Sign Language Lengua de Signos Española (LSE): see Spanish Sign Language Lentz, Ella Mae 117, 140, 142 Leuninger, Helen 114, 115, 117, 127, 128, 132, 135, 139, 140 Levelt, Willem J.M. 98, 101, 110, 111, 112, 113, 115, 116, 121, 128, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 140, 141 Levelt’s model of language production 113, 115, 116, 121, 125, 128, 133, 134, 135, 138 Levesque, Michael 102, 111 Levy, Elena 198 lexicon: 2, 15, 375, 377, 378, 387, 391, 392; comparative studies of borrowing, lexical 224, 230–235; comparative studies of equivalent variants 227–235; comparative studies of similarly-articulated signs 227–235 Liben, Lynn 143, 163 Liberman, Alvin M. 28, 33, 93, 108, 110 Liddell, Scott K. 3, 18, 22, 27, 33, 44, 46, 58, 63, 68, 86, 88, 110, 154, 163, 170, 171, 173, 175, 188, 190, 197, 213, 222, 245, 248, 249,

Index 250, 252, 253, 254, 255, 257, 260, 272, 294, 297, 310, 311, 314, 318, 319, 324–326, 337, 343, 355–58, 361, 367, 368, 374, 375–377, 379, 390, 391, 402, 411–412, 420, 446, 447, 466 Lillo-Martin, Diane 4, 19, 22, 112, 113, 114, 139, 141, 175, 197, 237, 243, 244, 245, 247, 251, 252, 253, 255, 260, 261, 296, 318, 319, 323–324, 330, 335, 349, 354, 356, 358, 368, 374, 384, 396, 399, 402, 404, 436, 440, 446, 466 Lindblom, Björn 378, 402 Linde, Charlotte 410, 420 Lingua de Sinais Brasileira (LSB): see Brazilian Sign Language Lingua Italiana del Signi (LIS): see Italian Sign Language linguistic savant 6, 325, 422–440 literacy 147, 161 Liu, Chao-Chung 69, 85 Livingston, Sue 160, 163 Llogoori 47, 62 loci (referential) 245–249, 252–257 Loew, Ruth 256, 261 Logical Form (LF) 114, 264–265 Longobardi, Giuseppe 308, 319 Luce, Paul 89, 110 Luetke-Stahman, Barbara 144, 163 Lundberg, Ingvar 102, 110 Lupker, Stephen 89, 92, 110 Lyovin, Anatole V. 279, 294 MacDonald, Brennan 102, 111 MacKay, Donald G. 112, 115, 117, 139, 141 MacKay, Ian R.A. 136, 141 MacLaughlin, Dawn 23, 261, 294, 298, 299, 300, 301, 303, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 311, 318, 319, 354, 368, 374, 396, 403, 417, 420, 424, 432, 440, 446 MacNeilage, Peter F. 9, 22, 133, 134, 141 Mainwaring, Scott 407, 420 Mano 284 Manually Coded English (MCE) 32, 323, 143–162, 17 Marantz, Alec 260, 264, 265, 293, 403 Marcario, Joanne 89, 110 Marentette, Paula 4, 7, 24, 43, 63 Marschark, Marc 167, 171, 173, 183, 197 Marsh, P. 173

475 Masataka, Nobuo 416, 420 Mathangwane, J.T. 289, 294 Mathur, Gaurav 250, 252, 257, 258, 261, 372, 391–394, 403 Matthews, Stephen 309, 319 Mattingly, Ignatius 108, 110 Mauk, Claude 7, 23, 63 Maung 280, 284 Maxwell, Madeline 156, 163 May, Robert 395, 401 Mayberry, Rachel 4, 22 Mayer, Connie 147, 163 Mayer, Karl 115, 141 McAnally, Patricia 158, 163 McBurney, Susan 108, 109 McCarthy, John 39, 63, 114, 141, 290, 294, 400, 403 McClelland, James 92, 109 McCullough, Karl-Erik 198 McCullough, Stephen 10, 22 McGarvin, Lynn 7, 23 McKee, Cecile 156, 161, 163, 164 McKee, David 226, 231, 233, 236 McNeill, David 11, 22, 168, 169, 170, 173, 176, 177, 180, 184, 186, 196, 197, 198, 200, 222, 389, 403 Meadow, Kathryn P. 156, 164 Mehler, Jacques 107, 110 Meier, Richard P. 3–7, 9–10, 13, 16–20, 23–24, 35, 37, 38, 42, 62, 63, 68, 85, 143, 151, 164, 176, 198, 244, 245, 247, 249, 250, 252, 253, 254, 255, 261, 296, 310, 319, 323–324, 330, 339, 354, 361, 368, 372, 373, 375, 378, 379, 384, 401, 403, 446 Meir, Irit 16, 19, 21, 237, 248, 256, 259, 261, 344, 366, 372, 375, 382, 400, 403 Meissner, Martin 8, 23 memory, short term 14, 29, 426 mental spaces 296–297, 310–317 Meringer, Rudolf 115, 141 Methodical Sign 145–47, 160 Metzger, Melanie 161, 163, 170, 171, 173, 175, 184, 198, 311, 319, 446, 466 Mexican Sign Language (LSM) 5, 172, 224–235 Meyer, Antje 98, 101, 110, 111 Meyer, Antje 112, 115, 117, 121, 129, 133, 141 Meyer, Ernst 102, 111 Mikos, Ken 117, 140, 142

476

Index

Miller, Christopher Ray 49, 63, 68, 86, 103, 109, 261 Miller, George A. 334, 368 Mills, Anne 39, 64 Mintun, Mark 102, 110 Mirus, Gene R. 7, 23, 63 modal: 13, 201, 212, 220, 207–209; epistemic 208–212; obligation 202, 210, 212; permission 207–210; possibility 201, 207–210 modality: 35, 145, 241, 259, 350–53, 364–65; influence on phonology 60, 113, 253; medium versus 11, 322–323, 329, 358–59, 364–65; noneffects of 2, 14–15, 113, 237–238, 243–244 modality effects: classification of, rules unique to signed or spoken languages 13, 17–18; classification of, statistical 13, 15–16; classification of, typological 13, 16, 56–57, 114; classification of, uniformity of signed languages 13, 18–20, 57, 113–114, 324, 395–397, 399; iconicity 233–235; lexical similarity across signed languages 159–61, 232–235; sequentiality vs. simultaneity 27–28, 113–114, 134, 438; sources of articulators 6, 7, 8, 9, 36, 107–108, 125, 132; sources of, iconicity 11, 12, 15, 357–358; sources of, indexicality 11, 12, 245, 359; sources of, nonmanual behaviors 237, 238; sources of, perception 10, 11, 36, 107; sources of, signing space 132, 237, 238, 245, 344, 348–352, 399, 409, 439; sources of, youth of 6, 12, 13, 20 Moeller, Mary P. 144, 163 Moody, Bill 19, 23, 237 Moores, Donald F. 144, 147, 164 Morford, Jill P. 168, 173 Morgan, Gary 422, 423, 425, 436, 440 morpheme 117, 130, 131, 138, 120, 126, 128, 129 morphology: 2, 3, 13, 16, 19, 20, 32, 48–50, 57, 113, 138, 148, 151, 152, 156–60, 177–178; affixation 16, 17, 150–55, 157–60, 393, 394; and language typology (see language typology); and slips of the hand 128–131 Morris, Desmond 170, 173 Motley, Michael 117, 139, 141 Mounty, Judith 160, 162 Mowry, Richard 136, 141

Mühlhäusler, Peter 330, 332–33, 368 Myers, Scott 56, 63, 288, 294 Mylander, Carolyn 12, 22 Nagala 331–32, 344–45 Nagaraja, K.S. 348, 368 Nanai 281, 284 natural language 143, 161, 162 Natural Sign 145, 146 Navaho 8 negation: 5, 20, 251, 325, 431–433, 437, 438; morphological 263, 274, 281, 283, 284; split 238, 266, 274, 284 negation phrase (NegP) 266, 269, 271, 273, 275 Neidle, Carol 5, 18, 23, 175, 196, 237, 244, 247, 248, 251, 261, 272, 275, 276, 294, 301, 301, 303, 306, 307, 308, 309, 311, 318, 319, 354, 368, 374, 403, 417, 420, 424, 432, 440, 446, 465 Nespor, Marina 39, 63 Neville, Helen J. 4, 21, 23 New Zealand Sign Language (NZSL) 158, 159, 231 Newkirk, Don 67, 86, 116, 124, 126, 133, 134, 141 Newport, Elissa L. 3–5, 10, 12, 16, 19–21, 48, 64, 67, 68, 87, 116, 124, 126, 134, 143, 151, 159, 164, 176, 198, 262, 322, 326, 370, 372, 398, 403, 404 Nicaraguan Sign Language (ISN) 12, 13, 168 Nihon Syuwa (NS): see Japanese Sign Language Nogogu 331–32, 333, 345 Nolen, Susan Bobbit 8, 25, 68, 87 nominals 5, 238, 297, 308–310, 312 non-manual behaviors: 19, 113, 119, 124, 167, 170, 171, 237, 238, 274, 284–285, 289, 442, 447, 457, 459, 464, 431, 438; as gestures 217–220; eyebrow raise 213–214, 217–218; eyegaze 170, 447, 453, 459, 460, 461, 463, 464; negative headshake 263, 275, 277, 272, 286 Norris, Dennis 93, 109, 111 noun phrases (see nominals) Noyer, Rolf 264, 265, 279, 294 null arguments 19, 114, 325 number 329–33, 335–40, 344, 353–54, 362–65 Nusbaum, Howard 89, 111 Nuyts, Jan 357, 368

Index O’Rourke, Terence 204, 209, 211, 221 O’Connor, Neil 426, 441 Odden, David 114, 141, 290, 294 Ogilvy-Foreman, Dale 69, 86 O’Grady, Lucinda 436, 440 O’Grady-Batch, Lucinda 33, 29 Ojemann, George 108, 109 Old LSF 171 Olofsson, Ake 102, 110 onomatopoeia 172, 178 O’Seaghdha, Padraigh 115, 140 O’Shaughnessy, M. 173 Osugi, Yutaka 80, 81, 86, 338, 341, 367, 369 Otake, Takashi 93, 109 Ouhalla, Jamal 267, 268, 294 Overdulve, C.M. 283, 294 Owusu, N. 283, 295 Ozyurek, Asli 200, 222, 417, 420 Padden, Carol 3, 19, 24, 49, 50, 63, 83, 86, 175, 198, 204, 209, 211, 221, 237, 244, 246, 247, 248, 250, 252, 255, 261, 296, 319, 333, 368, 372, 373, 380, 382, 388, 403, 446, 447, 457, 465, 466 Pagliuca, William 199, 202, 206–207, 209–210, 219, 221 Pakistani Sign Language 278 PAM (see auxiliary verbs) Pangasinan 346–47 pantomime 169, 170, 171 parts of speech 2, 3 Patschke, Cynthia 215, 222, 285, 295, 298, 319 Paulescu, Eraldo 102, 110 Payne, David L. 331, 368 Payne, John R. 263, 281, 294 Pèlissier, P. 203, 211, 222 Pedelty, Laura 176, 198 Pedersen, Carlene 116, 141 Pederson, Eric 357, 368 Penn, Claire 69, 86 Perkins, Revere 199, 202, 206–207, 209–210, 219, 221 Perlmutter, David M. 27, 30, 33, 35, 44, 49, 53, 63, 67, 68, 79, 80, 81, 83, 86, 88, 93, 110, 134, 137, 141, 290, 294 person 18, 247–250, 253–256, 323–324, 329–336, 339–340, 342, 347–350, 353–365, 370, 371, 373, 378, 379, 393, 396, 398 Pertama, Edisi 69, 86

477 Petersen, Lesa 68, 87 Petersen, Steven 102, 110 Petitto, Laura A. 4, 7, 24, 43, 63, 176, 198, 200, 222, 434, 441 Petronio, Karen 399, 404, 445, 446, 447, 462, 463, 465, 466 Pfau, Roland 126, 141, 273, 274, 278, 293, 294 Pfetzing, Donna 147, 163 Philpott, Stuart B 8, 23 Phonetic Form (PF) 114, 137, 242–244, 264–265 phonology: 19, 27–33, 35, 36, 38, 39, 41, 43, 44, 45, 46, 54, 55, 56, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 241–244, 253, 257–259, 321, 325; canonical word shape 57; features 39–42, 44–45, 52, 127, 243, 263, 286; modality and 35, 60–61, 65–66, 84, 107–108, 243; minimal pairs 28, 57, 58, 67; parameters of sign formation 28, 31, 32, 38–39, 94, 119, 121, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 133, 136, 170, 172, 227–228, 444, 462; phoneme 30, 128; phonological awareness 102, 103; phonological priming 89–93; phonological similarity 91, 102–107; psychological reality of 88, 108; root node 36, 40, 43, 51, 54, 55, 56, 57, 60; timing unit 43, 44, 52, 60, 81, 82; weight unit 43, 45, 50 Pidgin Sign English (PSE) 444, 462 Pilleux, Mauricio 272, 295 Pinker, Steven 10–11, 24, 323, 327, 351, 368 Pisoni, David 89, 110, 111 Pizzuto, Elena 237, 338, 368, 430, 441 Plains Indian Sign Language 342 Poeppel, David 102, 110 Poizner, Howard 4, 24, 29, 33, 42, 61, 103, 108, 110, 111, 176, 198, 256, 261, 296, 311, 319, 427, 429, 441 Polich, Laura G. 12, 24 Pollock, Jean-Yves 267, 268, 295 Posner, Michael 102, 110 possessives 306–308, 316–317, 323 Poulin, Christine 255, 261 Poulisse, Nanda 115, 133, 141 Poulos, George 282, 295 Powell, Frank 368 Prillwitz, Siegmund 374, 404 pronouns 18, 226, 241, 245, 247–250, 252–256, 305, 306–308, 315, 316–317, 322–323, 326, 329–65 prosody 27, 30, 31, 42 Püschel, D. 62

478

Index

Quadros, Ronice Müller de 4, 20, 24, 251, 261 Quechua 346–47 questions: wh- 399, 446, 449, 452; yes/no 201, 212–218, 446, 449, 452 Quigley, Stephen 158, 163 Rabel, L. 348, 368 Raffin, Michael 156, 162, 164 Raichle, Marcus 102, 110 Ramsey, Claire 143, 164, 368 rate of signing 8, 32, 132, 138 Rathmann, Christian 20, 24, 248, 252, 261, 273, 295, 372, 380, 383, 384, 392–393, 403, 404 Rauschecker, Josef 4, 23 Ray, Sidney Herbert 332, 368 Rayman, Janice 102, 111 Readjustment rules 265, 272, 274, 285, 394, 395, 278 Redden, J.E. 283, 295 reduplication 48, 49, 50, 69, 74 Reed, Charlotte 443, 444, 445, 462, 466 Reed, Judy 368, 331 referential specificity 358–359 Reich, Peter 112, 115, 140 Reikhehof, Lottie 69, 86 Remez, Robert E. 156, 162 Repp, Bruno 93, 111 Rizzolatti, Giacomo 200, 222 Roelofs, Ardi 112, 115, 121, 141 role shift 248, 255, 452, 453 Romance languages 114 Romano, Christine 237 Rondal, J.-A. 272, 294 Rose, Heidi 103, 111 Rose, Susan 158, 163 Ross, J.R. 237 Russian 178, 279, 284 Salvatore, M. 62 Sanchez-Casas, Rosa 93, 109 Sandler, Wendy 16, 21, 27, 30, 33, 35, 44, 60, 63, 80, 83, 86, 88, 106, 109, 111, 116, 123, 141, 243, 244, 246, 247, 259, 261, 261, 344, 352, 366, 373, 374, 387, 400, 404 Sapir, Edward 2, 24 Sauliner, Karen 157, 162 Saussure, Ferdinand de 15, 24 Savin, H.B. 93, 97, 111

Savir, Hava 69, 71, 86 Schade, Ulrich 115, 141 Schein, Jerome 144, 164 Schiano, Diane J. 407, 420 Schick, Brenda 411, 421, 404 Schlesinger, I.M. 156, 164 Schober, Michael F. 407, 421 Schreifers, Herbert 98, 99, 101, 110, 111 segments: 35–36, 39, 42–45, 51–59, 65–68, 69, 76–84, 93, 97, 98; repetition of 31, 65–81, 84, 85 Segui, Juan 107, 110 Seidenberg, Mark 46, 63 Semitic languages 16, 57, 114, 160 Senghas, Ann 12, 19, 22, 200, 222, 237, 251, 262 Sergent, Justine 102, 111 Setswana 288 Shaffer, Barbara 200, 202, 208–210, 212, 220, 222 Shankweiler, Donald 93, 110 Shattuck-Hufnagel, Stephanie 125, 142 Shepard-Kegl, Judy; also see Kegl, Judy A. 374, 404 Sherrick, Carl E. 37, 62 Shónà 56, 63, 284, 288, 281 Shroyer, Edgar H. 69, 86 Shroyer, Susan P. 69, 86 Shuman, Malcolm K. 69, 71, 86 Sierra, Ignacio 224, 236 Sign Language of the Netherlands (NGT) 19, 176, 213, 252 sign poetry 102–103 Signed English 326, 449, 455, 457, 459, 460, 461, 463, 464 Signing Exact English (SEE 2) 8, 12, 17, 146–50, 152–54, 158–60, 323, 352 signing space: 205, 237–238, 321, 326, 435, 439, 457, 462, 463; gestural 387–393, 395–397, 399; interpretation of, mirrored 413–416; interpretation of, reversed 413–416, 418; interpretation of, shared 407–409, 413–419; spatial formats, diagrammatic 411–412, 414, 418–419; spatial formats, viewer space 411–412, 418; 410–412, 414, 418 Simmons, David 69, 86 Singleton, Jenny L. 12, 24, 169, 173, 200, 222, 404 Siple, Patricia 29, 33, 350, 368

Index slips of the hand: 2, 3, 5, 14, 29, 116, 138, 117; morphological structure and 128–131; phonological parameters and 29, 123–124, 126–127; self-corrections (repairs) 29, 117, 119, 122, 125, 136, 135; types 117, 124, 128, 133, 134, 138, 119, 120, 122, 125, 126, 127 slips of the tongue 29, 116, 119, 121, 127, 129, 138 Slobin, Dan I. 132, 142, 156, 164 Slowiaczek, Louisa M. 89, 111 Smith, Neil 422, 423, 425, 426, 427, 430, 435, 436, 440, 441 Smith, Cheri 117, 140, 142 Smith, Wayne 18–19, 248, 252, 262, 324, 327, 329, 340–41, 368, 384, 404, 24 Smith Stark, Thomas C. 225, 231, 232, 233, 236 Son, Won-Jae 69, 86 sonority 31, 43, 98, 106 Spanish 3, 15, 128, 207, 373, 390, 426 Spanish Sign Language (LSE) 5, 172, 224–235 spatial language 18, 322, 405, 439 spatial locations: 17, 244–50, 252–253, 255–258, 297, 322, 373–375, 377–381, 385, 390–392, 395; non-listablity of 175–176, 245, 356, 377, 378, 385, 386, 392 spatial marking 333–34, 344–50, 353, 358 Speas, Margaret 371, 404 specificity 298–305, 308–309, 312 Spreen, Otfried 426, 440 Stack, Kelly 44, 64 Stedt, Joe D. 144, 147, 164 Stemberger, Joseph P. 112, 115, 117, 125, 128, 130, 133, 134, 142 Sternberg, Martin L. A. 69, 86 Stokoe, William C. 2, 5, 24, 27, 28, 33, 39, 58, 64, 69, 80, 86, 88, 111, 147, 164, 167, 173, 174, 200, 220, 231, 236, 373 Strange, Winifred 46, 62, 64 Studdert-Kennedy, Michael 28, 33, 93, 108, 110 Stungis, Jim 103, 111 Supalla, Samuel J. 12, 17, 24, 69, 87, 148, 151, 158–161, 155, 164, 323, 327, 352, 369 Supalla, Ted 3, 5, 19–21, 24, 48, 64, 67, 68, 87, 151, 159, 160, 164, 169, 174, 245, 262, 338, 342–45, 369, 370, 372, 397, 403, 404, 405, 421

479 Sutton-Spence, Rachel 19, 25, 237, 404, 431, 432, 433, 441 Suty, Karen 160, 164 Swedish Sign Language 213, 253 Sweetser, Eve 199, 222 Swisher, M. Virginia 156, 158, 164 Sybesma, Rint R. 297, 305, 318 syllable 27, 30, 35, 43, 44, 45, 46, 50, 51, 56, 57, 93, 94, 97, 98, 106–107, 108, 124, 132, 133, 137, 290 syntax: 2–4, 113, 258, 259, 237–238, 241–244, 251–255; autonomy of 237–238, 241–244; modality and 243–244, 296–297 Sze, Felix Y.B. 309, 319 tactile signed language 442, 443, 445, 446 tactile-gestural modality 4, 442–465 Taiwanese Sign Language 18, 248, 252, 324 Talmy, Leonard 390, 399, 404, 405, 421 Tang, Gladys 297, 319 Taub, Sarah F. 83, 87, 178, 198, 392, 404 Taylor, Holly A. 410, 413, 419, 421 temporal aspect: continuative 151–152; delayed completive 83 Tencer, Heather L. 173, 445, 446, 462, 463, 466 Thelen, Esther 7, 25 Thomason, Sarah G. 231, 232, 236 tone languages 114, 268, 281, 287 topic marking 19, 201, 212–218 Traugott, Elizabeth Closs 206, 217, 222 Tsimpli, Ianthi-Maria 422, 423, 425, 426, 427, 430, 435, 436, 440, 441 Tsonga 289 Tuldava, J. 279, 295 Turkish 131 Turner, Robert 4, 23 Tversky, Barbara 407–408, 410, 413, 419, 420, 421 Twi 283, 284 typological homogeneity 114–115, 348–50, 352–54, 358–59, 364–65 Universal Grammar (UG) 27, 38, 112, 114, 139, 243–244, 423, 431 universals 241, 256, 370 Uno, Yoshio 69, 87 Urwin, Cathy 461, 466 Uyechi, Linda 44, 46, 64, 68, 73, 80, 87

480

Index

Valli, Clayton 103, 111 van der Hulst, Harry 52, 60, 64, 80, 87, 243, 262, 387, 404 van Hoek, Karen 311, 319, 436, 440 van Ooijen, Brit 93, 97, 109, 111 variation, sources of (see also modality effects) 114 Varney, Nils R. 426, 440 Vasishta, Madan M. 338–39, 369 Veinberg, Silvana C. 272, 295 Venda 282, 284 verb agreement: 2, 3, 5, 6, 12, 17–19, 51, 175–177, 241, 244–259, 322–326, 342, 350, 356, 371–372, 374, 379–381, 388, 393, 398, 433–439, 457, 459; phonetic constraints on 258, 392, 393, 395 visual perception 28, 29 Vogel, Irene 39, 63 Vogt-Svendsen, Marit 272, 295 Volterra, Virginia 430, 441 Vorberg, Dirk 101, 110 vowels 45–47, 93, 94, 97, 102, 106, 133, 187 Wall, Stig 102, 110 Wallace, Simon B. 10, 21 Walsh, Margaret 69, 87 Ward, Jill 69, 87 Warren, D.H. 38, 64 Warrington, E.K. 426, 441 Webb, Rebecca 159, 160, 164, 186, 198 Weber, David J. 347, 369 Wechsler, Stephen 375, 401 Weinreich, Uriel 234, 236 Welch, R.B. 38, 64 Wells, G. 147, 163 West Greenlandic 56, 57, 62 Whittemore, Gregory 116, 142 Wiese, Richard 116, 142 Wilbur, Ronnie B. 8, 25, 27, 30, 33, 42, 44, 64, 68, 73, 80, 87, 200, 215, 218, 222, 223, 272, 285, 290, 291, 295, 298, 319

Wilcox, Phyllis Perrin 68, 87, 200, 208, 212, 223, 392, 404 Wilcox, Sherman E. 167, 173, 200, 208, 212, 220, 223 Willerman, Raquel 7, 23 Wilson, Kirk L. 338–39, 369 Winston, Elizabeth A. 330, 369, 459, 467 Wismann, Lynn 69, 87 Wix, Tina 161, 164 Wodlinger-Cohen, R. 157, 164 Woll, Bencie 10, 19, 21, 25, 69, 85, 172, 174, 213, 223, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 404, 422, 423, 425, 431, 432, 433, 436, 440, 441 Wood, Sandra K. 277, 295, 399, 404 Woodbury, Anthony 177, 198 Woodward, James C. 19, 21, 25, 147, 165, 202, 223, 226, 230, 232, 236, 333, 338–39, 369, 444, 467 word order 3, 19, 20, 51, 322, 324–325, 459, 460 Wurmbrand, Susanne 371, 400, 404 Wylie, Laurence 206, 223 Yarnall, Gary 443, 467 Yidin 56, 62 Yip, Virginia 309, 319 Yoruba 371 Yucatec Maya Sign Language

72, 73

Zaidel, Eran 102, 111 Zakia, Renée A. E. 7, 23 Zanuttini, Raffaella 266, 275, 293, 295 Zattore, Robert 102, 111 Zawlkow, Esther 147, 163 Zec, Draga 50, 64 Zeshan, Ulrike 69, 72, 73, 87, 237, 272, 278, 295, 338–40, 363, 369 Zimmer, June 123, 142, 298, 319 Zuck, Eric 102, 111

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