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Whorf wrote that the Hopi language contains “no words, grammatical forms,
constructions or expressions that refer directly to what we call “time”,
or to past, present, or future, or to enduring or lasting…"<br>
<br>
(p. 57, Whorf, Benjamin Lee (1956) Language, Thought, and Reality: Selected
Writings of Benjamin Lee Whorf, Cambridge, Mass,: MIT Press.)<br>
<br>
In my experience, this is possibly the most famous and influencial statement
Whorf ever made, and has created a rather widespread urban myth. Sometimes,
the language in question becomes an African or Pacific language; it is always
the language of a people considered "primitive" by the retellers of the myth.
It is very unfortunate that this statement has become so widely repeated,
especially since it is not even remotely true. If you happen to, as I do,
live in the SW, you can check the accuracy of the statement simply by asking
any member of the Hopi tribe. <br>
<br>
Actually, it is well-documented that Hopi does indeed contain tense, numerous
time words, as well as a very complicated calendar, as well as traditions
which contain a great deal of explicit references to events which are clearly
either recorded past events or predicted future events. Hopi ceremonial
days are very strictly adhered to, something which requires a very extensive
concept of time. <br>
<br>
No-one is really sure where Whorf's claims about the Hopi language and time
came from.<br>
<br>
Buckner, Margaret L wrote:<br>
<blockquote type="cite"
cite="mid449421B2223FE74C8CF2AED36BA626A5B54056@jade.SPRINGFIELD.SMSU.EDU">
<pre wrap="">"Whenever I read something like this article, I think of Whorf's statement that Hopi has no words whatsoever for time."
Would you please cite the article and page number where that statement is made? I don't recall Whorf ever stating that.
Margaret Buckner
Dept. of Sociology and Anthropology
Southwest Missouri State University
901 S. National Ave.
Springfield, MO 65804
(417) 836-6165
<a class="moz-txt-link-abbreviated" href="mailto:mlb211f@smsu.edu">mlb211f@smsu.edu</a>
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<blockquote type="cite">
<pre wrap="">----------
From: Indigenous Languages and Technology on behalf of Matthew Ward
Reply To: Indigenous Languages and Technology
Sent: Wednesday, January 14, 2004 12:41 PM
To: <a class="moz-txt-link-abbreviated" href="mailto:ILAT@LISTSERV.ARIZONA.EDU">ILAT@LISTSERV.ARIZONA.EDU</a>
Subject: Re: Babel's Children (fwd)
Whenever I read something like this article, I think of Whorf's statement that Hopi has no words whatsoever for time--something that turned out to be a fantasy. Why are people still interested in proving Whorf right, when he himself seemed to be complet
ely unable to get basis facts straight?
This article writes of a language with no verb tenses and no articles, as if this were some amazing discovery. Actually, many languages lack verb tenses and articles. They usually have other features that perform many of the functions of verb tenses an
d articles, but that a linguist has discovered a language without verb tenses or articles per se--why is this news?
As for having no part-of-speech, I suspect that what he really means is that the same word may represent different parts of speech, which, again, is quite common. I would guess that the language he is studying is an isolating language in which part-of-s
peech is indicated mostly by syntax, like thousands of other languages around the world.
It's not difficult for me to believe his statement that linguists, when studying other language, are influenced by the languages they already know. However, this whole article seems to be feeding into the same tired, unscientific, and ultimately destruc
tive myths, such as the Grammarless Language (why don't we get any details on the grammar this language DOES have, rather than does not have?), the Primitive Language which contains Ambigious Statements (as if the meaning of most sentences was not depend
ent in part upon context). Does the linguist suppose that the speakers of this language have to guess what others are talking about? That they have some kind of mystical communication system that allows them to understand anyway? That Indonesians are
"always late" because their language does not require time to be marked? Funny, I've lived in Taiwan, which uses languages in which time-markets are optional, yet people are very timely, and I have relatives in Mexico, in whic
h most people speak Spanish, a language where time-marking is required, and yet being late seems to be much more acceptable there than in Taiwan. OK, so the guy was joking when he said that, but the whole attitude betrays the same kind of "mystical sava
ge" stereotype that Whorf was so fond of--they are late because their language doesn't allow them to think about time in a precise manner.
Whorfism has not only fallen out of favor and has never been backed up by rigorous studies, it has also been used, again and again, to support the idea that indigenous languages are inprecise, incomplete means of communication which will never suffice fo
r the modern world. Yes, I do know that Safir, Whorf's teacher, was trying to do exactly the opposite: point out the value of indigenous languages by pointing out their many complex and unique features, but Whorf completely warped what the legitimate p
oint that Safir was trying to make. When I talk to people about language preservation, it amazes me how often they dredge up some half-remembered reference to Whorf that they read about during college "Isn't it true that Hopi can't refer to time in any
way? > Well, really, it would be nice to preserve it, but how can they actually use it in today's world if they can't even talk about when something happened?"
To be fair, whatever this linguist has actually written was probably distorted horribly by the writer of the article, as usual. Just look at the title: more Babelism (linguistic diversity = a curse of God!)
In my opinion, the mainstream media is one of the biggest obstacles to language preservation.
phil cash cash wrote:
Linguistics
Babel's children
Jan 8th 2004 | LEIPZIG
From The Economist print edition
Corbis
Languages may be more different from each other than is currently supposed. That may affect the way people think
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://www.economist.com/science/displayStory.cfm?story_id=2329718">http://www.economist.com/science/displayStory.cfm?story_id=2329718</a>
IT IS hard to conceive of a language without nouns or verbs. But that is just what Riau Indonesian is, according to David Gil, a researcher at the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, in Leipzig. Dr Gil has been studying Riau for the
past 12 years. Initially, he says, he struggled with the language, despite being fluent in standard Indonesian. However, a breakthrough came when he realised that what he had been thinking of as different parts of speech were, in fact, grammatically the
same. For example, the phrase > "> the chicken is eating> "> translates into colloquial Riau as > "> ayam makan> "> . Literally, this is > "> chicken eat> "> . But the same pair of words also have meanings as diverse
as > "> the chicken is making somebody eat> "> , or > "> somebody is eating where the chicken is> "> . There are, he says, no modifiers that distinguish the tenses of verbs. Nor are there modifiers for
nouns that distinguish the definite from the indefinite (> "> the> "> , as opposed to > "> a> "> ). Indeed, there are no features in Riau Indonesian that distinguish nouns from verbs. These categories, he says, are imposed because
the languages that western linguists are familiar with have them.
This sort of observation flies in the face of conventional wisdom about what language is. Most linguists are influenced by the work of Noam Chomsky> -> in particular, his theory of > "> deep grammar> "> . According to Dr Chomsky,
people are born with a sort of linguistic template in their brains. This is a set of rules that allows children to learn a language quickly, but also imposes constraints and structure on what is learnt. Evidence in support of this theory includes the ten
dency of children to make systematic mistakes which indicate a tendency to impose rules on what turn out to be grammatical exceptions (eg, > "> I dided it> "> instead of > "> I did it> "> ). There is also the ability of the child
ren of migrant workers to invent new languages known as creoles out of the grammatically incoherent pidgin spoken by their parents. Exactly what the deep grammar consists of is still not clear, but a basic distinction between n
ouns and verbs would probably be one of its minimum requirements.
Plumbing the grammatical depths
Dr Gil contends, however, that there is a risk of unconscious bias leading to the conclusion that a particular sort of grammar exists in an unfamiliar language. That is because it is easier for linguists to discover extra features in foreign langua
ges> -> for example tones that change the meaning of words, which are common in Indonesian but do not exist in European languages> -> than to realise that elements which are taken for granted in a linguist's native language may be absent from
another. Despite the best intentions, he says, there is a tendency to fit languages into a mould. And since most linguists are westerners, that mould is usually an Indo-European language from the West.
> It need not, however, be a modern language. Dr Gil's point about bias is well illustrated by the history of the study of the world's most widely spoken tongue. Many of the people who developed modern linguistics had had an education in Latin a
nd Greek> . As a consequence, English was often described until well into the 20th century as having six different noun cases, because Latin has six. (A noun case is how that noun's grammatical use is distinguished, for example as a subject or as an o
bject.) Only relatively recently did grammarians begin a debate over noun cases in English. Some now contend that it does not have noun cases at all, others that it has two (one for the possessive, the other for everything else) while still others mainta
in that there are three or four cases. These would include the nominative (for the subject of a sentence), the accusative (for its object) and the genitive (to indicate possession).
The difficulty is compounded if a linguist is not fluent in the language he is studying. The process of linguistic fieldwork is a painstaking one, fraught with pitfalls. Its mainstay is the use of > "> informants> "> who tell linguists
, in interviews and on paper, about their language. Unfortunately, these informants tend to be better-educated than their fellows, and are often fluent in more than one language. This, in conjunction with the comparatively formal setting of an interview
(even if it is done in as basic a location as possible), can systematically distort the results. While such interviews are an unavoidable, and essential, part of the process, Dr Gil has also resorted to various ruses in his attempts to elicit linguistic
information. In one of them, he would sit by the ferry terminal on Batam, an Indonesian island near Singapore, with sketches of fish doing different things. He then struck up conversations with shoeshine boys hanging around the
dock, hoping that the boys would describe what the fish were doing in a relaxed, colloquial manner.
The experiment, though, was not entirely successful: when the boys realised his intention, they began to speak more formally. This experience, says Dr Gil, illustrates the difficulties of collecting authentic information about the ways in which peo
ple speak. But those differences, whether or not they reflect the absence of a Chomskian deep grammar, might be relevant not just to language, but to the very way in which people think.
Word, words, words
A project that Dr Gil is just beginning in Indonesia, in collaboration with Lera Boroditsky, a researcher at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, is examining correlations between the way concepts are expressed in languages and how native spe
akers of these languages think. This is a test of a hypothesis first made by Benjamin Lee Whorf, an early 20th-century American linguist, that the structure of language affects the way people think. Though Whorf's hypothesis fell into disfavour half a ce
ntury ago, it is now undergoing something of a revival.
Dr Boroditsky's experiment is simple. People are shown three pictures, one of a man about to kick a ball, one of the same man having just kicked a ball, and a third of a different man who is about to kick a ball. They are then asked which two of th
e three are the most similar. Indonesians generally choose the first two pictures, which have the same man in them, while English speakers are likely to identify the two pictures that show the ball about to be kicked> -> an emphasis on the temporal
, rather than the spatial, relationship between the principal objects in the picture.
Dr Gil believes that this might be because time is, in English, an integral grammatical concept> -> every verb must have a tense, be it past, present or future. By contrast, in Indonesian, expressing a verb's tense is optional, and not always
done. In support of Whorf's idea, Dr Gil half-jokingly cites the fact that Indonesians always seem to be running late. But there is more systematic evidence, too. For example, native Indonesian speakers who also speak English fall between the two groups
of monoglots in the experiment. Dr Gil supposes that their thought processes are influenced by their knowledge of both English and Indonesian grammar. >
Demonstrating any sort of causal link would, nevertheless, be hard. Indeed, the first challenge the researchers must surmount if they are to prove Whorf correct is to show that English and Indonesian speakers do, in fact, think differently about ti
me, and are not answering questions in different ways for some other reason. If that does prove to be the case, says Dr Gil, their remains the thorny question of whether it is the differences in language of the two groups that influences their conception
of time, or vice versa.
Dr Boroditsky and Dr Gil are not intending to restrict their study to ideas about time. They plan, for example, to study gender. English, unlike many other languages, does not assign genders to most nouns. Does this affect the way English-speakers
think of gender? Languages also differ in the ways they distinguish between singular and plural nouns. Indeed, some do not distinguish at all, while others have a special case, called the dual, that refers only to a pair of something. Descriptions of spa
tial relations, too, vary, with languages dividing the world up differently by using different sorts of prepositions. The notion that grammar might affect the way people think may seem far-fetched, and even unappealing to those who are confident of their
own free will. But if Dr Gil is right and there do exist languages, like Riau Indonesian, without nouns or verbs, the difficulty of conceiving just that fact points out how much grammar itself shapes at least some thoughts.
Copyright © 2004 The Economist Newspaper and The Economist Group. All rights reserved.
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