Language Log

Early this year, Heidi Harley and I posted a few times about the job market in linguistics. I got the ball rolling with a post about the Linguist List's 2008 job ads. Heidi followed up with a comparison between the job-ad numbers and the indices at ProQuest, and then I put those numbers together.

The combined post told a dispiriting story about the theoretical areas: it looked like there was a serious mismatch between the number of PhDs and the number of jobs for them. I think now, though, that this was based on an unfair comparison. John McCarthy pointed out to me that the ProQuest counts we reported are not relativized to dissertations per se, but rather come from a more general search of ProQuest's databases.

If the ProQuest search term restricts always to (i) dissertations, (ii) the Linguistics subject area, and (iii) the last five years, then one gets much smaller numbers throughout, and the hits themselves seem generally reasonable. Here's a graph comparable to my earlier one, with the same job-ad numbers but the more restrictive ProQuest numbers.

Over the past couple of days, some commenters have complained of superficiality and excessive empiricism in my objections to the spreading media meme of president Obama's allegedly culpable use of first-person pronouns ("Fact-checking George F. Will", 6/7/2009; "Obama's Imperial 'I': spreading the meme", 6/8/2009; "Inaugural pronouns", 6/8/2009).

So this morning, in evaluating Stanley Fish's notion that president Obama's inaugural address used the "royal we", I'll avoid any numbers greater than one. Instead, I'll use traditional humanistic methods to argue that Fish is full of it.

[I'm following up on this morning's post "Obama's Imperial 'I': spreading the meme".]

Stanley Fish ("Yes I can", NYT 6/7/2009) cited the "naked I" of the president's recent rhetoric, allegedly representing a change from the pronominal personality that he displayed during the presidential campaign. But I showed this morning that Obama's recent presidential speeches in fact use first-person singular pronouns at roughly the same rate as his campaign speeches did, or perhaps a little bit less often, judging on the basis of the specific eight speeches that Fish cites. I also showed that overall, Obama's rate of first-person singular pronoun usage is distinctly lower than that of his two predecessors, not (as you might expect from all the fuss) higher.

Fish also cites Obama's inaugural address for its extensive use of the "royal we". So just for fun, having a few minutes to spare, I added a few lines to the script that I used to count pronouns in the cited speeches, and dumped the inaugural addresses of the previous two presidents into the pile of texts that I ran it on.

I guess it's now officially a Media Meme: Obama's "royal we has flowered into the naked 'I'". First Terence Jeffrey ("I, Barack Obama"), then George Will ("Have We Got a Deal for You"), now Stanley Fish ("Yes I can"):

By the time of the address to the Congress on Feb. 24, the royal we has flowered into the naked “I”: “As soon as I took office, I asked this Congress.” “I called for action.” “I pushed for quick action.” “I have told each of my cabinet.” “I’ve appointed a proven and aggressive inspector general.” “I refuse to let that happen.” “I will not spend a single penny.” “I reject the view that says our problems will simply take care of themselves.” “I held a fiscal summit where I pledged to cut the deficit in half by the end of my first term.” That last is particularly telling: it says, there’s going to be a second term, I’m already moving fast, and if you don’t want to be left in the dust, you’d better fall in line.

There’s no mistaking what’s going on in the speech delivered last week. No preliminary niceties; just a rehearsal of Obama’s actions and expectations. Eight “I”’s right off the bat: “Just over two months ago I spoke with you… and I laid out what needed to be done.” “From the beginning I made it clear that I would not put any more tax dollars on the line.” “I refused to let those companies become permanent wards of the state.” “I refused to kick the can down the road. But I also recognized the importance of a viable auto industry.” “I decided then…” (He is really the decider.)

The trouble with this idea, as often with the insights of the punditocracy, is that there's no evidence that it's true. Worse, evidence is easily available to disconfirm it.

The opening sentence of George F. Will's latest column ("Have We Got a Deal for You", 6/7/2009):

"I," said the president, who is inordinately fond of the first-person singular pronoun, "want to disabuse people of this notion that somehow we enjoy meddling in the private sector."

This echoes J.B.S. Haldane's quip that the creator, if he exists, must be inordinately fond of beetles; and Will, like Haldane, is presumably proposing an inference about someone's preferences from his actions, not reporting a direct emotional revelation.

So, since I'm one of those narrow-minded fundamentalists who believe that statements can be true or false, and that we should care about the difference, I decided to check. (On Will, not Haldane.)

"My toothbrush is one of four standing upright in a cup on the bathroom sink," wrote Ada Brunstein in ‘The House of No Personal Pronouns’, a 2007 piece in the New York Times Fashion & Style section. "These toothbrushes belong to me, my boyfriend, his wife and her lover."

Brunstein often stays at the house with her married boyfriend, who co-owns it with his estranged wife, who also sometimes lives in the house, together with her boyfriend. This edgy domestic relationship between two couples, one half of each of which had together once formed a different couple, depends on a delicate avoidance of topics such as the evidence of the still-undissolved marriage. There have been negotiations concerning phone calls and visits, and in addition (for this is Language Log, not Open Marriage Lifestyle Log) linguistic negotiations. Brunstein's boyfriend says "the house" now, not "our house"; and:

He has adopted the passive voice to make it easier on me. I once stood in front of a bookcase in the kitchen, three shelves of which hold an impressive collection of salt and pepper shakers from across the country.

"You collect salt and pepper shakers?" I asked.

"There are salt and pepper shakers that have come into the house over the years," he said.

Yes, it's that elusive butterfly of passivity again.

It's almost over. The English Language WordClock is ticking inexorably towards its zero hour early Wednesday morning, marking the imagined birth of the mythical millionth English word. But what will happen then?

The Million Word March FAQ over at the Global Language Monitor is silent on this subject. None of the journalists interviewing Paul Payack, the PR genius behind this exercise, have asked him the simple question, "And then what?"

Mr. Payack has volunteered the opinion that "The million word milestone brings to notice the coming of age of English as the first truly global Language".  But a disturbing tweet from Prof. Warren Rice at Miskatonic Community College warns of a darker possibility:

The millionth word is the key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not. Our only hope is t

Via the Society for Caribbean Linguistics comes news of the passing of the great linguist and lexicographer Richard Allsopp. He died on June 4 in Barbados at the age of 86. A native of Guyana, Allsopp made signal contributions to the study of Caribbean creoles. He is perhaps best known as the editor of the Dictionary of Caribbean English Usage (1996), a monumental lexicographical project more than 25 years in the making.

You can read more about Allsopp's life in Starbroek News and the Barbados Advocate.

Adam Cohen wrote a piece in the 1 June NYT (on the editorial page) that is both delightful and thought-provoking: "The Lord Justice Hath Ruled: Pringles Are Potato Chips", about a series of British legal decisions.

The question: is a Pringle a potato chip (crisp, in British usage) or (as Procter & Gamble, which makes Pringles, maintained) a "savoury snack". [Cohen reported that P&G claimed that Pringles was a "savory snack", but of course the case was heard in British courts, and the dispute in those courts was about crisps vs. "savoury snacks" — as in SNACMA (the Snack Nut & Crisp Manufacturers Association), which "represents the interest of the savoury snack industry in the UK". Note that in this usage "savoury snack" is the higher-order category; crisps are savoury snacks, but so are other things.]

There was real money on the line, about $160 million, as Cohen notes:

In Britain, most foods are exempt from the value-added tax, but potato … crisps … and "similar products made from the potato, or from potato flour," are taxable.

Shalom Lappin has pointed out to me that an authoritative, accessible, and eloquent account of genotype-phenotype relations in general, and the case of FOXP2 in particular, can be found in Simon Fisher, "Tangled webs: Tracing the connections between genes and cognition", Cognition 101(2): 270-297, September 2006.

Or rather,

The BBC has reported on a linguistic study that claims to have settled the issue of whether Neil Armstrong said "a man" as part of the first utterance from the moon: he didn't. He did intend the contrast (a small step for one individual man versus a giant leap for mankind as a species), but his speech rhythms show that he didn't pronounce the indefinite article in the first noun phrase. That's the claim. Click here for the BBC link.

Hat tip to Sam Tucker.

Now they've done it — spliced human FOXP2, often called the "language gene", into some mice in Leipzig.  This won't give the mice anything new to say, but many people were certainly expecting them to start producing and analyzing more complex sound patterns.  Thus Juan Uriagereka ("The Evolution of Language", Seed Magazine, 9/25/2007):

Chimps, and our other close relatives the apes, certainly have the hardware for some basic forms of meaning […]. What they don’t have is a way to externalize their thoughts. I’d wager that chimps just lack the parser that FoxP2 regulates.

Uriagereka suggested that "Because of the similarities in brain structure and in the syntax of their song, finches must also have this parser", created by the songbird version of Foxp2. If this bold conjecture were true — that certain alleles of this particular gene create a "parser" in the brain — then the mice recently gifted with a "humanized" form of foxp2 should exhibit some striking abilities, such as recursively-structured squeaks.