Quantitative Research In Linguistics An Introduction Sebastian M Rasinger
Quantitative Research In Linguistics An Introduction Sebastian M Rasinger
Quantitative Research In Linguistics An Introduction Sebastian M Rasinger
Quantitative Research In Linguistics An Introduction Sebastian M Rasinger
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7. Figures and tables
Figures
2.1
Quantitative-deductive approach 11
2.2
Qualitative-inductive approach 12
3.1
Longitudinal versus cross-sectional designs 40
3.2
Setup of Li’s study 42
3.3
Sampling 48
3.4
Sampling error 49
5.1
Bar chart 106–7
5.2
Pie chart 108
5.3
Bar chart showing feature distribution across
LMC, UWC and LWC 109
5.4
Bar chart showing feature distribution between
Detroit and Norwich 110
5.5
Line graph showing feature distribution between
Detroit and Norwich 111
5.6
Line graph showing fixation times for boys and girls 112
5.7
Fixation times for boys and girls 113
5.8
Score A and Score B scatter plot 115
6.1
Arithmetic mean 122
6.2
Median in relation to the arithmetic mean 127
6.3
Example: Linguists and bid success 135
6.4
Normal distribution – mean, median and mode
are identical 139
6.5
Right-skewed distribution 141
6.6
Left-skewed distribution 141
6.7
Z-score in skewed distributions 141
6.8
Normal distribution. Skew=0 142
6.9
Left-hand/negative skew. Skew= −0.64 143
6.10
Right-hand/positive skew. Skew= 1.31 143
7.1
Scatter plot for fictive data set 162
8. figures and tables ix
7.2
Scatter plot with line 163
7.3
Scatter plot showing positive and negative correlation between
variables x and y 164
7.4
Correlation for two variables and 12 speakers 170
7.5
Scatter plot with regression/trend line 175
7.6
Scatter plot for multiple regression example 182
8.1
EG CG bar chart 200
9.1
Curvilinear graph 221
10.1
T-test – 1 IV, 1 DV 237
10.2
ANOVA – 2 IVs, 1 DV 238
10.3
ANOVA – 3 IVs, 1 DV 239
10.4
MANOVA – 2 IVs, 2 DVs 239
10.5
MANOVA – 3 IVs, 8 DVs 239
11.1
Task 8.3 – bar chart with error bars 271
Tables
2.1
Basic set of quantitative data 10
2.2
Quantitative analysis of police interview 15
3.1
Summary of different research designs 45
3.2
Project plan for (fictitious) project on language
maintenance 56
3.3
(Real) Project plan 58
4.1
Data matrix for 5 respondents 77
4.2
Age-group coding 77
4.3
Age-group and gender coding 78
4.4
Attitudes towards language teaching 78
4.5
Fictional data set for questionnaire 83
4.6
Filtered data set for questionnaire 84
5.1
Consonant cluster use 94
5.2
Frequency table 101
5.3
Inverted frequency table 103
5.4
Frequency table with four classes 104
5.5
Cluster simplification: absolute and relative frequencies 105
5.6
Relative frequencies across three socioeconomic groups in
two cities 109
5.7
Fixation time in seconds 112
5.8
Fictive set of pre- and post-test scores 114
9. figures and tables
x
6.1
(ing) distribution across five social classes 122
6.2
Fictive example of /g/ drop 123
6.3
Social distribution of (ing). Romaine (2000) and
fictive values 132
6.4
Exam scores for 20 groups 137
6.5
Mean and standard deviation for five fictive samples 144
7.1
Absolute frequencies of men/women and native/non-native
speakers (N=100) 152
7.2
Joint probabilities 153
7.3
Absolute frequencies for third-person singular agreement 155
7.4
Production and comprehension of IN and OUT words 156
7.5
Calculation of expected values 157
7.6
Expected values 157
7.7
Calculating df 159
7.8
A fictive example 162
7.9
Fictive pairs of scores for two variables: Lengths of
practice (in years) and score (on a scale from 0 to 100) 174
7.10
Simple regression, full information 181
7.11
Multiple regression result 183
7.12
Test-retest, same pattern 185
7.13
Test-retest, no pattern 185
7.14
Language vitality index per language group, based on
the mean value of four language dimensions (in %) 187
8.1
Fictive example 193
8.2
EG/CG post-test comparison 195
8.3
Result of F-statistic 196
8.4
T-test between EG and CG. Excel output 198
8.5
Pre- and post-test results 201
8.6
Dependent t-test for experimental group 202
8.7
Performance of 12 speakers 204
8.8
Absolute frequencies of simplified consonant clusters 206
8.9
Observed and expected values 207
8.10
Absolute frequencies of IN and OUT words 208
8.11
Observed and expected frequencies for two-word types 209
8.12
Observed and expected frequencies for two domains 209
8.13
Two treatment and one control group 211
8.14
Interaction/task type 214
10. figures and tables xi
8.15
Excel-ready format of Doughty and Pica’s (1986) data 215
8.16
Excel ANOVA results 216
9.1
Practice in years and proficiency scores for 12 speakers 222
9.2
Ranks for proficiency and practice scores 223
9.3
Simple and complex verb phrases in percentage 227
9.4
Relative frequencies, difference (d) and absolute difference
d(abs) 228
9.5
Ranked differences 229
9.6
Ranked scores for Sadighi and Zare (2006) 231
10.1
Summary of studies used for AoO meta-analysis 244
10.2
Multiply sample size N with effect size r 245
10.3
Calculate confidence intervalls – step 3 246
10.4
Meta-analysis – fictive example 248
11. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As with any other book, countless people were involved in the process
of this one coming into existence, to all of whom I am eternally grateful.
Many thanks to, in no particular order, my former and current students and
colleagues at Anglia Ruskin University, for their input, patience, and for
serving as guinea pigs in my attempts to bring quantitative methods closer
to them; the readers and reviewers of the first edition for their kind and
useful feedback, and suggestions for improvements for this second edition;
and Gurdeep Mattu and the entire team at Bloomsbury for bringing this
book to life.
Any faults and shortcomings are, of course, my very own.
Sebastian M. Rasinger
Cambridge, March 2013
12. CHAPTER ONE
Introduction
Some things never change: the sun rises in the morning. The sun sets in the
evening. A lot of linguists don’t like statistics. I have spent a decade teaching
English language and linguistics at various universities, and, invariably,
there seems to be a widespread aversion to all things numerical. The most
common complaint is that statistics is ‘too difficult’. The fact is, it isn’t. Or
at least, it doesn’t need to be.
This book is several things at once. It is, to no surprise, an introduction
to quantitative research methods. As such, it is a primer: a book that is
primarily aimed at those with a minimum of prior knowledge. In fact, most
readers should be able to follow this book without any prior knowledge
or familiarity with the contents. It is also a guidebook – one that leads its
readers through the sometimes daunting process of setting up and carrying
out a quantitative study from start to finish. And finally, it is a manual, as it
provides its readers with hands-on practical advice on quantitative research
in general and statistical methods in particular.
The original idea for the first edition of this book, published in 2008,
followed an argument with some of my MA students. Having discussed the
factors influencing second-language acquisition success or failure, we had
started to look at the issue of learner motivation, and I came to ask (a) how
we could empirically prove how motivated a learner was and (b) how we
could draw sound conclusions that motivation and outcome are causally
related. The result was grim. Several students, all of them language teachers
with several years experience, argued that ‘any good teacher is able to see
that this is the case’. And, finally, one of them accused me of ‘trying to
measure everything – you just have a too scientific mind’. It took some not-
so-gentle encouragement to persuade them that any academically sound
piece work would inevitably have to use methodologically proper methods
and techniques, or else. . . . Five years down the line, I am still having
these discussions, but at least I have a book to refer them to. Quantitative
research need not to be difficult!
13. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
2
The subject benchmarks for linguistics undergraduate degrees by the
UK Quality Assurance Agency – the organization monitoring academic
standards in higher education – state that:
6.13 On graduating with an honours degree in linguistics, students will
typically be able to:
demonstrate an understanding of the issues involved in the basic
l
l
techniques of data analysis, and evaluate and choose appropriate
techniques such as distributional criteria, spectrographic
analysis, the use of IT tools for the investigation of electronic
databases, the use of computer packages for the analysis of
acoustic phenomena, the use of laboratory techniques for the
investigation of articulatory phenomena, relevant statistical
tests, the use of video and audio material in the analysis of
spoken interaction . . .
l
l demonstrate understanding of data and analyses presented by
means of graphs (including tree diagrams), tables, matrices and
other diagrams and present data appropriately by these means
with minimum supervision.
(The Quality Assurance Agency for Higher Education. 2007.
Linguistics. Subject benchmarks. www.qaa.ac.uk/Publications/
InformationAndGuidance/Documents/Linguistics07.pdf,
pp. 14–15. My emphasis.)
It might be rather odd to start an introductory textbook with quotes
from a policy document; yet, it shows just how important a thorough
understanding of research methods is. Over the years, I have marked a
number of student assignments at various universities and at various levels,
which started off as excellent pieces of work, but once it came to the data
analysis part it went downhill: all too often, the author just did not know
how to properly handle the data they collected, analyses are flawed and
basic mathematical operations simply wrong. Even worse, some continued
to make the argument they had started, whether the empirical findings
support it or not. Hardly anything is worse than getting (or giving!) a low
mark for something that could have been solved so easily – I do speak from
experience.
There is another side to this, too. Some of us may not want to conduct
a quantitative study ourselves, for whatever reason; however, this does not
mean that we do not need to understand the basics of quantitative research.
The majority of studies in psycholinguistics and sociolinguistics – particularly
those dealing with linguistics variation – are based on quantitative data and
analysis; and if we want to fully understand these studies, we need to have
at least some idea what all those terms, indices, figures and graphs mean. It
may be unnecessary to know all the mathematical intricacies surrounding
14. Introduction 3
a t-test or Analysis of Variance (ANOVA) (see Chapter Eight), but it is
for obvious reasons no good if we read in a paper that ‘a t-test showed
statistically significant differences between the 2 groups’ and we do not
know what either a t-test or statistical significance is.
There is, undoubtedly, a myriad of books on quantitative methods and
statistics on the market. Predominantly, these inhabit the bookshelves of
disciplines such as social and natural sciences, psychology or economics.
Indeed, there are statistics books which cater specifically for linguists, too,
for example Butler (1985) or Woods et al. (1986), or more recently the
texts by Johnson (2008) or Gries (2009), to name but a few. All of them
comprehensive pieces of work which leave little to add to. Yet, experience
in teaching quantitative methods and statistics to students and professional
linguists alike has shown that what many people read is not only an
introduction to statistics (the number crunching bit) but also the general
approach that is quantitative research: frequently it is not only the maths
that is the problem, but the entire methodological setup. And hence, this
book is not one on statistics alone, but an introduction to quantitative
methods in general, specifically written for students and researchers in
languages and linguistics.
As such, this book is written for three particular types of people, which,
in some form or other, all feature in the life of its author:
Colleagues and students who get panic attacks when asked to
l
l
perform simple statistical analyses such as calculating averages and
hence simply and safely refuse to approach anything vaguely related
to numbers.
The linguist who, despite being well-versed in statistical methods,
l
l
insists on doing complicated calculations by hand with pen and
paper and refuses to use readily available software, hence making
statistics more painful.
The undergraduate or postgraduate student or any other researcher
l
l
in linguistics and language related disciplines who realizes at
some point that they need a comprehensible introduction to
quantitative methods in their field, in order to make their project
methodologically sound.
This book has no prerequisites other than very basic numeracy skills and
some basic knowledge of using a computer and standard software: being
able to do basic mathematic operations such as addition, subtraction,
multiplication and division, by hand or with the use of a calculator is all that
is needed. And, of course, being a linguist helps! This book does not intend,
nor claim, to make its reader love statistics. However, ideally, having read
the book, any reader should be able to set up a simple but well-developed
quantitative study, collect good data using appropriate methods, perform
15. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
4
the most important statistic analyses, and interpret and present the results
adequately; in other words, it should stop you from falling into the ‘stats
trap’. Alternatively, you may want to use the book or individual chapters
to understand particular concepts and tools of quantitative research when
reading studies using these tools. This book does not aim at elaborating or
explaining the mathematical intricacies of the methods discussed. Rather,
it has been written as a practical hands-on guide and should enable its
readers to get going and actually do quantitative research from the very
first pages onwards.
Throughout the book, we try and look at examples or real linguistic
research, and will discuss the methods and tools employed in research
such as Labov’s Language in the Inner City (1977), Trudgill’s work on
sociolinguistic variation in Norwich (1974), or Johnson and Newport’s
studies on the ‘Critical Period’ in second-language acquisition (1989,
1991), all of which is aimed to help readers understanding the concepts
introduced. This has the advantage that readers can read the original studies
simultaneously with the relevant chapter, and increase understanding of the
issues discussed. Reviews of the previous edition have criticized that the
examples focus somewhat heavily on sociolinguistic and applied linguistic
examples – something I entirely agree with. This, in part, reflects my
own research interests, but, more importantly, a lot of the examples are
comparatively easy to understand and often part of a teaching curriculum.
Trying to explain statistics while simultaneously explaining complicated
linguistic concepts is beyond the scope of this book.
Furthermore, with computers being omnipresent, we will introduce the
appropriate steps for performing a statistical analysis using spreadsheet
software, specifically Microsoft Excel. Again, this is to avoid complicated
manual calculations and will give readers the opportunity to actually do
statistics as quickly as possible. While this is not a textbook on using Excel,
readers will need no more than basic knowledge of how to enter data
into a spreadsheet software – the title of Harvey’s (2003) Excel 2003 for
Dummies might scratch people’s egos a bit but it is a good starting point
for those who have not previously used the programme.
The task of writing a second edition of an introductory textbook is not
an easy one: on the one hand, it ought to be different, but on the other,
it ought to retain its scope and depth, too. I have hence both expanded
and gently updated the previous edition. The book is divided into three
parts: Part One (Chapters Two to Four) introduces readers to the basics of
quantitative research, by discussing fundamental concepts and common
methods. Chapter Two introduces the key concepts of quantitative research
and takes a close look at different types of variables and measurement as well
as reliability and validity. The third chapter introduces readers to various
different research designs and provides information on how to choose an
appropriate design for a particular research questions. I have expanded this
chapter to include a brief section on project management: knowing how to
16. Introduction 5
set up a project that is methodologically sound on paper is not enough – one
has to actually do it. Chapter Four is dedicated to an in-depth discussion of
questionnaires, their design and use in quantitative research.
Part Two (Chapters Five to Nine) covers statistical tools most commonly
used in linguistic research. Specifically, we will discuss how to describe
data properly (Chapters Five and Six), how to test relationships between
variables using standard statistical tools (Chapter Seven), and how to check
whether different sets of data are significantly different from each other,
for example in pre- and post-test situations (Chapter Eight). Following
popular demand, Chapter Eight now includes a discussion of ANOVAs,
too. Chapter Nine provides an overview of statistical tools for the analysis
of non-normal data.
Part Two has been written with the motto in mind, ‘get as much as
possible out of your data with as little effort as possible’, and readers
should be able to perform simple but thorough analyses of any data set,
using Microsoft Excel or similar software. The second part contains many
tasks and exercises readers are encouraged to do. Many of these tasks are
discussed in detail on the spot to ensure understanding – nothing is worse
than having a generic answer somewhere on the back pages but no one
really knows where the solution comes from, let alone how to interpret it!
Solutions for some additional exercises can be found in Chapter Eleven,
together with the statistical tables necessary for the interpretation of
results.
The final part, consisting of Chapter Ten, is new: it provides an overview
of more advanced methods. The first section discusses Multivariate Analysis
of Variances (MANOVAs), followed by a discussion of statistical meta-
analysis – a method to combine (not to say, recycle) previous results in a
meaningful manner. The final section introduces two pieces on statistical
software: IBM SPSS (formerly ‘Statistical Package for the Social Sciences’)
and R, with pointers to as where readers can find more information.
In Part Two, I have included ‘Quick Fix’ boxes which summarize the
main statistical tools discussed in the chapter. You can also find cheat sheets
for these tools on the companion website, together with Excel templates
and short video clips demonstrating how to conduct certain statistical tools
in Excel. All parts now also include a ‘further reading’ section at the end.
Before you start reading the book, a word of advice from my experience
as both a student and a teacher of quantitative methods: do try and actually
apply what you read as soon as possible. I have written the book in such
a way that it should be – hopefully – relatively easy to simultaneously
read and practically follow the issues discussed. So get pen and paper, or
your computer, ready. As with many things in life, you will improve with
practice – so start as early as you can.
18. CHAPTER TWO
Quantitative research – some
basic issues
Keywords: causality–concept–dependentvariable–hypothesis–independent
variable – latent variable – law – level of measurement – measurement –
qualitative research – quantitative research – reliability – theory – type of
variable – validity
This chapter discusses some of the basics of quantitative research – the main
focus of this book. After an outline of the differences between qualitative
and quantitative research, we will look in some detail at the concepts of
measurement and different types of variables, followed by a discussion
of causal relationships. Lastly, the concepts of validity and reliability are
introduced.
2.1. Qualitative and quantitative data
While most people have some idea that there is a difference between
quantitative and qualitative research, the general concept they have often
seems fundamentally flawed. Having taught research methods courses at
several universities and at several levels, the most common answer to my
question ‘what’s the difference between qualitative and quantitative data’
has usually been somewhere along the lines of ‘quantitative data means
much data, and qualitative data is good data’. In the worst-case scenario,
this may lead to statements such as ‘I want to do qualitative research
because I want it to be really good’ or, alternatively, ‘I can’t be bothered to
collect all that data’.
It hence seems a good idea to begin with a brief outline of the differences
between qualitative and quantitative data, providing specific examples
19. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
10
of applications for both types, and examples for data sets that can be
interpreted both quantitatively and qualitatively.
The idea that quantitative data refers to large amounts of data is only
partially true. In fact, the vast majority of quantitative data analysis
tools which will be discussed in this book require a data set of a decent
size in order to work properly. Small amounts of data can often lead to
insignificant, inconclusive or flawed results because the mathematical
procedures involved in quantitative (or statistical) analyses require a
certain amount of data in order to work properly – we discuss this in more
detail from Chapter Five onwards. Nevertheless, the main characteristics
of quantitative data is that it consists of information that is, in some way
or other, quantifiably. In other words, we can put quantitative data into
numbers, figures and graphs, and process it using statistical (i.e. a particular
type of mathematical) procedures. When using quantitative analyses, we
are usually interested in how much or how many there is/are of whatever
we are interested in.
A typical quantitative variable (i.e. a variable that can be put into
numbers) in linguistic research is the occurrence of a particular phonological
or syntactic feature in a person’s speech. Assume we are interested whether
speakers of group A are more likely to drop the /h/ than speakers of
group B. When analysing our data, we would hence count all the instances
in which /h/ is produced by the speakers (such as in hotel or house), as well
as all the instances in which /h/ is omitted (‘ouse, ‘otel). What we will get
at the very end is four numbers: /h/-used in group A, /h/-drop in group A,
/h/-used in group B, and /h/-drop in group B – a nice and basic set of
quantitative data, which could look like the one in Table 2.1.
In fact, counting occurrences of particular features (or, technically
correct, the outcome of a particular variable) is the simplest form of
quantitative analysis – yes, quantitative analysis can be as easy as that!
Other popular quantitative variables are people’s age (again, a number),
people’s weight (probably less important for linguistics, but quantifiable
and hence quantitative), and even people’s sex (how many men/women are
in a particular group?). We have a closer look at the different types of
quantitative data further down in this chapter.
Qualitative data, on the other hand, deals with the questions of how
something is, as opposed to how much/many. When using qualitative data,
TABLE 2.1 Basic set of quantitative data
Group /h/ produced /h/-drop
A 5 18
B 36 1
20. Quantitative research – some basic issues 11
we are talking about texts, patterns and qualities. Qualitative analysis in
linguistics is most commonly found in discourse analytic research.
By definition, the two approaches of analysis also differ in another
respect: qualitative research is inductive, that is, theory is derived from the
research results. Qualitative analysis is often used in preliminary studies in
order to evaluate the research area. For example, we may want to conduct
focus groups and interviews and analyse them qualitatively in order to build
a picture of what is going on. We can then use these findings to explore
these issues on a larger scale, for example by using a survey, and conduct
a quantitative analysis. However, it has to be emphasized that qualitative
research is not merely an auxiliary tool to data analysis, but a valuable
approach in itself!
Quantitative research, on the other hand, is deductive: based on already
known theory we develop hypotheses, which we then try to prove (or
disprove) in the course of our empirical investigation. Accordingly, the
decision between qualitative and quantitative methodology will have a
dramatic impact on how we go about our research. Figures 2.1 and 2.2
outline the deductive and inductive processes graphically.
At the beginning of the quantitative-deductive process stands the
hypothesis (or theory). As outlined below, a hypothesis is a statement about
a particular aspect of reality, such as ‘the lower the socio-economic class, the
more non-standard features a speaker’s language shows’. The hypothesis is
Hypothesis
true
Result
Hypothesis
wrong
Hypothesis/
theory
Methodology
Generate
Analyse
Develop
Deduct
Data
FIGURE 2.1 Quantitative-deductive approach.
21. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
12
based on findings of previous research, and the aim of our study is to prove
or disprove it. Based on a precisely formulated hypothesis, or research
question, we develop a methodology, that is, a set of instruments which
will allow us to measure reality in such a way that the results allow us to
prove the hypothesis right or wrong. This also includes the development
of adequate analytic tools, which we will use to analyse our data once
we have collected it. Throughout this book, I will keep reminding readers
that it is paramount that hypothesis/research question and methodological-
analytical framework must be developed together and form a cohesive and
coherent unit. In blunt terms, our data collection methods must enable us
to collect data which actually fits our research question, as do our data
analysis tools. This will become clearer in the course of this and subsequent
chapters. The development of the methodological-analytical framework
can be a time-consuming process; especially in complex studies we need
to spend considerable time and effort developing a set of reliable and valid
(see below) tools.
The development of a thorough and well-founded methodology is
followed by the actual data-collection process, that is, the generating of
data which we will base our study on. Ideally, the data-collection stage is
preceded by a pilot stage, where we test our tools for reliability and validity;
in Chapter Four, we discuss piloting with regard to questionnaire-based
surveys. Depending on the topic, the data-collection stage may be the most
time and resource intensive of the entire process, particularly when data
(or people we can get data from) is not readily available. This emphasizes
the need for thorough planning in advance: imagine you are to conduct
a study involving a tribe in the Amazonian rainforest. The last thing you
would want is to stand in the middle of the jungle and realize that your
data-collection tools are not working! In Chapter Three, I provide a very
Hypothesis/
theory
Patterns,
structures
Methodology
Generate
Analyse
Induce
Data
FIGURE 2.2 Qualitative-inductive approach.
22. Quantitative research – some basic issues 13
basic introduction to project management, which will give you an idea of
how to balance project scope, time and resources in order to achieve the
intended outcome.
Once collected, our data is then analysed using the analytic methods
developed previously, ultimately providing us with our results. In
quantitative research, our results will be a set (or a whole bunch) of numbers
and numerical indices which describe in great detail what is going on in
our data. Now comes the crucial part: based on our own results we look
back at our hypothesis and compare how well or badly our results fit the
hypothesis; then, we deduce whether the hypothesis is right or wrong.
In our simple example of socio-economic class and the use of non-
standard language, we may find in our data that lower social classes show
a high number of non-standard language use, middle classes show slightly
less non-standard use, and upper social classes show no use of non-standard
language at all. Hence, our results consist of three general observations,
from which we deduce that there is a relationship between social class and
language use in such a way that the lower the class, the more non-standard
features occur; our original hypothesis is proven correct. However, in real
life, we would usually have many more factors involved, and the relationships
between them are often not as obvious as we would like them to be. In this
case, the deduction process is one of carefully deriving our conclusions
based on and carefully balancing the available evidence. Frequently, we
may not be able to conclusively say whether a hypothesis is right or wrong,
simply because circumstances are so complex.
A side note: most of us (and I do not exclude me) would like to prove
whatever hypotheses we come up with correct, and frequently people
perceive it as a failure if they prove their own hypothesis to be wrong. Yet,
given that our original hypothesis made sense, that our methodological-
analytical framework was good and thorough and that our data was
of good quality (see reliability and validity discussion at the end of this
chapter), there is nothing inherently bad about proving a hypothesis wrong.
It might ruffle our ego a bit, but even if we show that something is not the
case, we still contribute to the accumulation of knowledge. So, we may find
that in our particular study, using our particular respondents, there is no
relationship between social class and language use; if our methodological
framework is reliable and valid, this is still a permissible result, even though
other researchers before us came to different conclusions: it is simply that in
this particular context it is not the case.
Much worse, however, is a situation where the results we produce simply
do not make sense and appear at random. If we take the United Kingdom, it
is generally true that social class and use of Standard English are linked to
a certain extent, as proposed in our hypothesis (exceptions just confirm the
rule).However,wemightfindthatourresultsinvertthehypothesis,andhigher
social classes use more non-standard language while lower socio-economic
classes use more standard language. While we cannot immediately discard
this as ‘wrong’, we should have a very thorough look at our methodology,
23. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
14
our analysis and our results and try to account for this pattern. As before,
it might be that our result is just a phenomenon of the particular context
we looked at; however, it could also be that something has gone horribly
wrong somewhere along the lines, either in the way we collected or analysed
our data. Statistics using modern software can be comparatively easy – a
few mouse-clicks and we get the required results – but the number on the
computer screen is really just the result of certain mathematical operations.
The final interpretation is still down to us, and as a general guideline, if we
feed out software rubbish, we will get rubbish out.
The qualitative-inductive process, on the other hand, is significantly
different. We shall just sketch it here. At the beginning is not a definite
hypothesis, but an ‘idea’. As before, we develop a methodology that
allows us to generate and analyse data. However, whereas the results in a
quantitative study inevitably revolve around the hypothesis, the qualitative
analysis reveals patterns or structures which are present in our data. And it
is from these patterns that we induce a hypothesis or theory.
Quantitative research is probably the approach most commonly found
in traditional sociolinguistic, psychological and psycholinguistic and
considerable parts of social research in general. Discourse analysis, and
especially Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) in the Faircloughian tradition
(Fairclough 1988, 1992, 1995) is usually qualitative in nature, although a
recent development towards using methods derived from corpus linguistics
to support CDA has given it quantitative aspects, too (see Hardt-Mautner
1995 or Baker 2006 for an overview).
Let’s look at a piece of data to illustrate the difference between
quantitative and qualitative analysis. The following example is taken from
Fairclough’s ‘Language and Power’ (Fairclough 1988: 18) and represents an
interview between a police officer P and a witness W.
1 P: Did you get a look at the one in the car?
2 W: I saw his face, yeah.
3 P: What sort of age was he?
4 W: About 45. He was wearing a . . .
5 P: And how tall?
6 W: Six foot one.
7 P: Six foot one. Hair?
8 W:
Dark and curly. Is this going to take long? I’ve got to collect
the kids from school.
9 P: Not much longer, no. What about his clothes?
10 W: He was a bit scruffy-looking, blue trousers, black . . .
11 P: Jeans?
12 W: Yeah.
24. Quantitative research – some basic issues 15
It does not take a trained linguist to realize that the dialogue is
characterized by a power imbalance, with P being clearly in control of the
interaction. A quantitative analyst would try to support this hypothesis
with numbers. We could, for example, look at the average turn length, the
numbers of questions asked and answers given by each participant, or we
could look at interruptions made by each participant. Our result would
look similar to Table 2.2.
From Table 2.2, we could conclude that P indeed seems to control the
interaction, as he (or she?) asks the majority of questions, while giving
fewer responses, and is the only one who interrupts. We could also employ
various statistical methods to strengthen this argument. All in all, we have
a rather good indication that P controls the situation to a certain extent.
More conclusive in this case, however, is looking at what is going on in
the conversation in terms of content and patterns – that is, a qualitative
analysis (for a full qualitative analysis, see Fairclough 1988). P’s questions
seem to follow a particular predefined sequence, trying to elicit key
information. W’s elaboration on clothing in line 4 is interrupted by P, but
the issue taken up later by P in line 9. W’s attempt to leave the interview in
8 is, although acknowledged, but more or less ignored (line 9) – indicating
rather strongly that this is not a chat between two friends.
In summary, our brief (and extremely superficial) analysis has shown
how quantitative and qualitative approaches differ. Both can be applied to
the same set of data, but in this case the analysis of how is much more useful
than the analysis of how much. The choice of whether to use a qualitative
or a quantitative approach is inseparably linked to the kind of research
question we ask. Research questions and methods used to answer it must
be developed together in one coherent framework – I will keep stressing this
throughout the book. We have said above that while qualitative research
looks at how something is, quantitative research is more interested in how
much/many there is/are of the issue we are interested in. For any successful
research project, we need to specify from the outset what we would like to
TABLE 2.2 Quantitative analysis of police interview
Police officer Witness
Number of turns 6 6
Average turn length in words 5.5 7
Number of questions asked 6 1
Number of responses given to questions 2 6
Numbers of interruptions made 2 0
25. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
16
find out and how we are going to find this out. In particular new researchers
such as undergraduate students often come up with the idea that ‘I want
to look at X and I will use Y’ – even though Y is an inappropriate tool to
lead to any reasonable conclusions about X. This is often linked to a strong
fear (or hatred) of anything related to maths, leading to a fierce rejection
of anything statistical and hence quantitative – even if the only reasonable
way of answering the question is a quantitative one. So let’s have a look at
some situations where a quantitative analysis is inevitable.
Any study whose main argument is based on the mere counting of
l
l
things. This may sound daft, but it does constitute the most basic
form of a quantitative analysis. We may, for example, be interested
in the following:
‘How many transitive verbs are there in “Beowulf”?’
m
m
‘How many students have taken English Language A-levels this
m
m
year?’
‘How often does a politician contradict himself within one
m
m
speech?’
None of these require any kind of sophisticated mathematical procedures;
nevertheless, they are all quantitative in nature, as they are based on working
with numbers (of words, students, contradictions). If we are choosing a
research question that is essentially based on numbers, we need to work
with numbers, and this has not to be difficult.
Any study that aims at
l
l proving that two or more groups of people
(or objects) are distinctively different. Typical research questions
could include:
‘Men use more swear words than women.’
m
m
‘Lower social class members use more non-standard forms than
m
m
members of higher social classes.’
‘This year’s cohort has obtained much better exam marks than
m
m
last year’s cohort.’
All of these cases are, in essence, based on simple counting,
followed by a comparison: in the first case, we would count the
number of swear words used by men (within the period of an hour,
for example), and compare the result to the number of swear words
used by women. The second example works identically: we count
and eventually compare the use of non-standard forms between
2 groups. The third example is, again, based on the comparison
of 2 values: exam results from this year’s cohort with that of last
year’s.
26. Quantitative research – some basic issues 17
In Chapters Five and Six we discuss in more detail how to
describe these differences, while Chapter Eight explains how these
comparisons can be made in a statistically sound way.
Any study that aims at showing that two variables are related,
l
l
that is, co-occur in a particular pattern, often in the form of ‘the
higher/lower X, the higher/lower Y’. These studies are based on
the assumption that a change in one variable results in a change of
another variable:
‘The older a learner at the start of language acquisition, the
m
m
slower the progress.’
‘The lower the social class, the more non-standard forms occur.’
m
m
‘The number of loan words has steadily increased after 1300.’
m
m
In very basic terms, these questions are again based on
m
m
comparisons of different numerical values, but unlike the above
examples, we look at more than two groups and/or more than
two points in time.
There are, of course, many more situations where we will have to use a
quantitative methodology; however, to a certain extent they are only
modifications of the above situations.
So, in what situations can (and should) we not use a quantitative but
a qualitative method? Remember from above that quantitative research
is deductive: we base our question and hypotheses on already existing
theories, while qualitative research is deductive and is aimed at developing
theories. Qualitative research might come with the advantage of not
requiring any maths, but the advantage is only a superficial one: not only
do we not have a profound theoretical basis, but we also very often do
not know what we get – for inexperienced researchers this can turn into a
nightmare. Prime examples of qualitative research in languages are studies
in ethnography or anthropological linguistics (see, for example Duranti
1997, or Foley 1997, for introductions to the topic). Anthropology in
general is interested in, broadly speaking, human behavioural patterns,
and anthropological linguistics’ focus is on communicative behaviour in
general. Baquedano-Lopez (2006) analysed literacy practices across learning
contexts, looking how literacy develops and emerges in different contexts,
such as in educational settings, outside school and so on. Baquedano-
Lopez’s work is qualitative as the focus of her work was, essentially, on
how literacy is, as opposed to how much literacy there is (i.e. the extent
or proficiency – clearly a quantitative question), as well as on patterns and
structures, as opposed to, for example, proportion of literacy in a given
population (which again would be quantitative). Qualitative analyses can
provide astonishing insights, but require the analyst to deeply engage with
27. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
18
the data in order to develop some kind of theoretical framework for it – a
mere description of what is happening is not a proper qualitative analysis.
And so, in qualitative research, we often find ourselves confronted with
large amounts of data which we need to make sense of, by ordering it and
developing categories into which we can put different bits of our data. For
those less versed, this can be difficult, especially since qualitative data can
often be interpreted in different ways with no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ answer.
Quantitative methods, on the other hand, give us at least a mathematically
sound result (if applied correctly) which often acts as a starting point for
our interpretation: 2 times 2 is always 4, and ‘all’ we need is to interpret the
result within our theoretical framework.
Yet, in recent years, we have seen a proliferation of research that uses
mixed-methods designs, that is, use both quantitative and qualitative
methods to investigate a topic; this is particularly common when dealing
with topics that are so complex that a categorical separation into qualitative/
quantitative would not work. Bergman (2012), Cresswell and Plano Clark
(2010) and Dörnyei (2007), inter alia, all provide good overviews on how
to conduct mixed-methods studies.
2.2. Variables and measurement
In the centre of quantitative research is the concept of a variable. As a
general definition, a variable is a measurable feature of a particular case: a
case is one particular ‘thing’ or unit that shows this particular measurable
feature. In linguistics, a case may be a person, or a group of people, or
a linguistic unit. As the term ‘variable’ implies, the values (or outcomes)
of this feature can vary considerably between cases. Each case can only
show one value for a particular feature. For example, the variable ‘gender’
when applied to human beings is generally considered to have two potential
values or outcomes, ‘male’ and ‘female’, and a person can only be one or
the other, that is, either male or female but not both at the same time –
exceptions apply. The variable ‘age’ can, in theory, vary from zero years
of age to indefinite (assuming that there is no naturally predefined age by
which humans drop dead), and again, a single individual can only show
one outcome: you obviously only have one age at a time. In a group of, for
example, ten people, we may get ten different values for the variable ‘age’,
namely when none of ten people in this group are of the same age. Linguistic
variables work with the same principle: in a study on syntactic variation in
spoken language we may want to look at the presence or absence of copular
verbs in subject-predicate constructions, such as ‘The girl is pretty’ or ‘He
Ø fat’. For convenience’s sake, we may want to define our variable ‘copular
presence’ in such a way that it can only have two outcomes: copula present
({+Cop}) and copula absent ({−Cop}). In our examples, the first sentence,
28. Quantitative research – some basic issues 19
‘The girl is pretty’ will take the value {+Cop}, while the second takes {−Cop}.
In a fictional corpus of let’s say 1,000 subject-predicate constructions, we
may find 750 {+Cop} and 250 {−Cop} – but as with gender, other values
are not permissible (‘a bit of a copula’ does not make much sense, just as
someone cannot be ‘a bit dead’).
In a different project, we might simply be interested in the number of
noun phrases (NP) per sentence in a corpus of 1,000 sentences. Here,
the variable ‘number of NPs’ can – theoretically – take indefinitely many
values:
‘
l
l The girl is pretty’ contains 1 NP (‘the girl’).
‘
l
l The cat chases the mouse’ contains 2 NPs (‘the cat’ and ‘the
mouse’).
‘
l
l The cat chases the mouse around the garden with the big trees and
the green lawn’ has 5 NPs – ‘the cat’, ‘the mouse’, ‘the garden’, ‘the
big trees’ and ‘the green lawn’.
Closely related to the concept of variable is that of measurement.
Measurement is the process of assigning a particular variable outcome to
a particular case, using predefined criteria. The term and concept is well
known: when measuring the size an object, we hold a ruler or a tape measure
next to the object; depending on the units we work with (centimetres,
metres, inches, feet), we can then assign the corresponding value to our
object. If we are interested in its weight, we put our object on a scale and
assign the corresponding value (in ounces, pounds or grams) to it.
Measurement, however, can also be much simpler, as it generally means
to put a particular object or person (or ‘case’) in a predefined category.
So, strictly speaking, we can also measure someone’s gender: we have two
clearly defined categories, male and female, and we put our case into either
category, depending on how well our case fits the category.
Crucially, the categories we assign to our objects must be well defined
and must not change during the process of measurement: we can only
make reliable statements about an object’s length in inches if, first, we
have clearly defined the amount of length an inch refers to, and, second,
one inch must always refer to exactly the same amount of length and does
not vary during the measurement. In addition, our tools for measuring an
object’s properties should be designed in such a way that it can measure
all our cases adequately. For example, with human beings, we usually get
away with two categories for measuring biological sex (it gets more tricky
when we look at the more culturally defined category of ‘gender’): male
and female, and, in the vast majority of cases, we should be able to put a
human being in one of the two categories. However, if we wanted to use
our two category measure for certain invertebras, such as earthworms, we
would run into serious problems: earthworms are hermaphrodites, that
29. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
20
is, they are both male and female at the same time, and when mating,
can perform both ‘functions’ simultaneously. We have said above that for
any one case we can have only one value for a particular variable, that is,
we cannot put a single earthworm in both the male and female category;
at the same time, putting it into the male (or female) group is also an
inaccurate reflection of reality. Hence, we will have to adjust our measuring
tool appropriately – in the earthworm example, we would probably add a
‘both’ category.
2.3. Definitions, concepts and
operationalization
Some readers may argue that I pay undue interest to something
straightforward. After all, most of us are able to measure someone’s
age, gender or weight. However, there are cases where the process of
allocating a variable value to a case is not that easy. A common problem,
particularly for researchers new to a field, is that it is not always clear
what is being measured, let alone how. A typical example for this is the
concept of ‘motivation’. Over the years, I have met countless students, both
undergraduate and postgraduate, who were all interested in how motivation
influences second-language learners’ progress. The problem usually starts
when I ask the question, ‘so how are you going to measure it?’ We all know
that motivation plays a crucial part in second-language acquisition/learning;
however, in order to come to a sound conclusion along the lines of ‘the
higher learners’ motivation, the better the outcome’ we need to measure the
different levels of motivation. But before we can even measure it, we have to
clearly define what motivation actually is. A review of literature on the topic
shows that motivation is a complex system of several interrelated factors,
of which Stern (1983) identifies social attitudes, values and indeed other
‘learner factors’. More recently, motivation is often linked to the ‘learner’s
self’ (see Dörnyei and Ushioda 2009 for an overview). As such, motivation
is a concept rather than a variable; in fact, motivation consists of several
variables, each of which has to be measured separately. In other words,
we cannot reliably measure motivation as such, let alone by methods such
as asking learners ‘how motivated are you’. When constructing concepts,
one has to ensure that they are epistemologically sound – put more bluntly,
they have to make sense. For example, a concept can only be described by
definitions and terms that are already known and measurable. In the above
example, we need several already known and measurable learner factors in
order to define our concept ‘motivation’.
A different example is the concept of ‘cohesion’: ‘Cohesion can be
defined as a set of resources for constructing relations in discourse’ (Martin
2001: 35). The clue is in the definition: as it is a ‘set of resources’, it cannot
30. Quantitative research – some basic issues 21
be measured directly, but we can approach it by looking at the different
components that make a text cohesive.
Once we have defined the concept we want to investigate, we need to
establish a set of operation definitions; we have to operationalize our
concept. In other words, we need to decide how we measure the variable or
variables describing our concept. To come back to our example, we would
develop a set of questions (or variables) which refer to the different aspects
of motivation, such as attitudes to the language, the learning process, the
environment and so forth.
We shall look at a real example to illustrate the idea of concepts and
their measurability. In the late 1070s, Giles et al. (1977) developed the
concept of ‘Ethnolinguistic Vitality’ in order to provide a framework that
could account for what ‘makes a group likely to behave as a distinctive
and active collective entity in intergroup relations’ (308). It does not take
too long to understand that ‘group behaviour’ is not something that can
be straightforwardly measured, such as a person’s age or weight, but is a
construct that comprises various aspects and issues. Giles et al. identified
three categories of variables, each to be measured independently and, more
or less, objectively:
a The group’s social status, based on objective and objectively
measurable variables such as income (how much money do
individual group members earn), economic activity (unemployment
rates), employment patterns (which jobs do they have), but also
including more difficult approaches to status, such as perception
of the group or the group’s language (e.g. whether the group’s
language is an official language, such as Catalan in Spain).
b Demographic factors, taking into account the absolute and relative
size of the group as well as its density (i.e. how many group
members live in a clearly defined geographic space). Again, these
variables are comparatively easy to measure.
c Institutional support, measuring to what extent the group receives
formal and informal support through official and/or community-
intern institutions (government, schools, churches, local authorities
etc). While this last category is a rather abstract concept in itself
(for details, see original work), it ultimately provides us with a
quantifiable result.
Giles et al. argue that the higher a group fares in each of the categories, the
higher its Ethnolinguistic Vitality is. So, the results (or scores) obtained in
the individual categories allow us to fairly objectively quantify a group’s
vitality. In other words, we can put a comparatively reliable number to
describe a rather abstract concept.
It is important that, for every quantitative study, we spend some time
thinking thoroughly about our variables, how to measure them, and how to
31. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
22
operationalize this measurement. And as such, it is paramount that we have
a good grasp as to what our variables could potentially look like, before
we develop a method to capture as much of the variation in this variable
as possible. Phonology is a good linguistic example to illustrate this.
Traditionally, sociolinguists and dialectologists have focused on variation
in pronunciation, and have tried to explain this variation along various
dimensions such as social categories or geographic areas. Sebba (1993:
23) in his study on ‘London Jamaican’ discusses some of the phonological
differences between Jamaican Creole and London English, and identifies
for one particular speaker in his sample two distinct realizations for
the pronunciation of the /u/ sound in ‘who’ and the initial consonant in
‘the’: [hu:] versus [hʊ:], and [di] versus [đə]. If, like Sebba, we consider
this phonological difference to be important, we must use a measure that
accounts for this. In other words, we need an operation definition that
allows us – in practice – to clearly classify a particular vowel as [u:]/[ʊ:] and
a particular consonant as [d]/[đ]. At the same time, if such differences are
not of interest for our study, we do not need to account for them. The trick
is to develop a methodology which allows us to measure as accurately as
required but does not make things unnecessarily complex.
A word of warning: some concepts, particularly abstract ones and those
that comprise several variables and sub-concepts, are notoriously difficult
to measure. Motivation, as outlined above, is one such concept, as are
attitudes. A quantitative analysis of these takes time, effort and a lot of trial
and error. Possibly more than for any other study, the thorough evaluation
of previous work and in particular the methodologies used (including all
the difficulties and pitfalls!) is vital. It is usually a good although resource-
and time-consuming idea to support quantitative data on these issues
with qualitative findings from interviews or focus groups. Often, the
combination of qualitative and quantitative results provide a far better and
reliable insight than one approach on its own.
2.4. Independent and dependent variables
Following our discussion of variables in general, we now turn to the
relationship variables can have to each other. More specifically, we focus
on independent and dependent variables. The crucial difference between
independent and dependent variables is that the latter can be influenced by
the former, but not vice versa.
A common independent variable in linguistic research is age. Research
on second-language acquisition has shown that age influences – to some
extent – acquisition success, with older learners being more likely to achieve
lower proficiency in the second language than younger ones. In this case,
language acquisition success depends on age, and is hence the dependent
32. Quantitative research – some basic issues 23
variable. At the same time, no one would argue that second-language
proficiency influences a person’s age – you do not become older just because
your language proficiency increases!
In experimental setups, the independent variable is often deliberately
manipulated by the researcher, while the dependent variable is the
observed outcome of the experiment. For example, if we were interested
in measuring whether word recognition decreases with increasing speed
in which the word is displayed to a participant, the independent variable
would be speed (as it can be manipulated by the researcher), while the
dependent variable would be the outcome (i.e. the accuracy with which the
words are recognized).
While in many research questions the independent and dependent
variables are clear from the outset, there might be constellations where it
is more difficult to define which one is which. For example, sociolinguistic
research has consistently shown that social class and the use of non-standard
features correlate; often, non-standard features occur more frequently in
the speech of lower socio-economic classes. It is arguable that social class
is the independent variable, as it influences the way people talk. However,
one may consider that attitudes against the use of particular non-standard
features disadvantage non-standard speakers and prevent them from certain
jobs and, ultimately, socio-economic success. At the very end, it is the chick
or the egg question and needs careful consideration in the interpretation of
our results.
2.5. Causality and latent variables
The discussion of independent and dependent variables inevitably raises the
issue of causality. As we have seen in the previous example, it is not always
entirely clear which variable causes which outcome. Causality means
that there is a causal relationship between A and B, that is, changes in A
cause changes in B or vice versa. As we will see later on, several statistical
methods can be used to measure the relationship between two variables;
however, they do not tell us anything about whether the two variables are
causally linked. Let’s go back to our age of acquisition onset example. I
suggested above that age of acquisition onset influences eventual second-
language proficiency; and a lot of empirical research has shown that the
older learners are when they start learning a second language, the lower
their eventual proficiency scores are. From here, it is a short step to arguing
that age and proficiency are in a causal relationship to each other; in fact,
many people argue exactly this way. However, strictly speaking, many
studies only show one thing: values for the variable ‘age’ and values for the
variable ‘proficiency’ co-occur in a particular pattern, that is, the higher
the ‘age’ values, the lower the ‘proficiency’ values are. In order to be able
33. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
24
to speak of a proper causal relationship, our variables must show three
characteristics:
a They must correlate with each other, that is, their values must
co-occur in a particular pattern: for example, the older a speaker,
the more dialect features you find in their speech (see Chapter Seven).
b There must be a temporal relationship between the two variables
X and Y, that is, Y must occur after X. In our word-recognition
example in Section 2.4, this would mean that for speed to have
a causal effect on performance, speed must be increased first,
and drop in participants’ performance occurs afterwards. If
performance decreases before we increase the speed, it is highly
unlikely that there is causality between the two variables. The two
phenomena just co-occur by sheer coincidence.
c The relationship between X and Y must not disappear when
controlled for a third variable.
While most people usually consider the first two points when analysing
causality between two variables, less experienced researchers (such as
undergraduate students) frequently make the mistake to ignore the effect
third (and often latent) variables may have on the relationship between X and
Y, and take any given outcome for granted. That this can result in serious
problems for linguistic research becomes obvious when considering the very
nature of language and its users. Any first year linguistics student learns
that there are about a dozen sociolinguistic factors alone which influence
they way we use language, among them age, gender, social, educational
and regional background and so on. And that before we even start thinking
about cognitive and psychological aspects. If we investigate the relationship
between two variables, how can we be certain that there is not a third
(or fourth of fifth) variable influencing whatever we are measuring? In the
worst case, latent variables will affect our measure in such a way that it
threatens its validity – see below. For our example, we will stay with the
age of acquisition onset debate. It has generally been argued that the age at
which people acquire a second language influences the acquisition success
to a certain extent; many studies have shown that the older a learner at
the start of acquisition, the less their progress will be. We do not have to
be experts in the field to spot a considerable problem with this hypothesis:
as most people are probably aware, second-language acquisition progress
is subject to a whole range of factors, among them motivation or amount
and quality of input they receive. Hence, arguing that age alone influences
second-language development is highly problematic. Any study trying to
establish such a link must hence pay considerable attention to other factors
and eliminate them, either through methodological modifications or
through fancy statistical methods.
34. Quantitative research – some basic issues 25
2.6. Levels of measurement
When we, once again, consider some of the most frequent linguistic
variables, it becomes clear that they differ with respect to the values they
can take. As discussed, for humans, the variable sex, for example, can only
take one of two values: male or female. Age, on the other hand, can take any
value from zero onwards, as discussed above. The scores of standardized
language proficiency tests, such as the International English Language
Testing System (IELTS), usually put examinees into a particular class or
category, which is described by a particular number: an IELTS score of 1
indicates that the examinee ‘essentially has no ability to use the language
beyond possibly a few isolated words’, while a score of 9 means that he
‘has fully operational command of the language: appropriate, accurate and
fluent with complete understanding’ (www.ielts.org 2013).
These differences, which are explained in more detail in the following
sections, refer to the level of measurement of a variable, and have a serious
impact on the kind of statistical methods we can use, and it is critically that
we, from the outset of our research, take the different levels a variable can
take into consideration.
Categorical scale data
Generally, we distinguish between four different levels of measurement.
At the bottom end are categorical variables. Categorical variables can
have two or more distinct outcomes, that is, they allow us to put our case
into one particular class or category only. When we look at the variable
‘gender’, the variable can only take one of two potential values, ‘male’ or
‘female’. Interim answers are impermissible – one cannot be ‘nought point
seven male’. Similarly, the questions of whether a woman is pregnant or
not can only elicit one out of two values: yes or no, as obviously you
cannot be ‘a bit pregnant’. A typical Equal Opportunities Questionnaire
asks people to state their ethnic background, and usually provides a
list of categories of which respondents have to pick one, for example,
White British, White Irish, Other White, Afro-Caribbean, South-Asian,
Mixed Race and so on. Again, this allows us to put respondents in one
particularly category, and again, interim answers cannot be accounted
for (‘70% White British with 30% Afro-Carribbean’ – even though this
is genetically possible).
Most importantly, the outcomes of categorical variables do not reflect
any kind of hierarchy: ‘male’ does not mean ‘better’ or ‘more’ than ‘female’,
just as ‘pregnant’ and ‘non-pregnant’ cannot be brought into a meaningful
order. We are merely labelling or categorizing our cases.
35. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
26
Ordinal scale data
Similar to categorical data, ordinal variables allow us to put particular
labels on each case. However, in addition, ordinal data can be put into
some kind of order or ranking system. A popular example for illustrating
ordinal data is the dullness of university lectures. Students may classify
lectures as ‘exciting’, ‘ok’, ‘dull’ or ‘very dull’. It is obvious that there is
an inherent semantic order to these labels, with dullness increasing from
‘exciting’ to ‘very dull’; in other words, lectures can be ranked according
to dullness. However, we cannot make any statement about the differences
between individual labels: ‘very dull’ does not mean ‘twice as dull as dull’,
but is simply an indicator that one is worse than the other.
Interval scale data
One step up from ordinal data are variables on interval scales. Again,
they allow us to label cases and to put them into a meaningful sequence.
However, the differences between individual values are fixed. A typical
example are grading systems that evaluate work from A to D, with A being
the best and D being the worst mark. The differences between A and B are
the same as the difference between B and C and between C and D. In the
British university grading system, B, C and D grades (Upper Second, Lower
Second and Third Class) all cover a stretch of 10 percentage points and
would therefore be interval; however, with First Class grades stretching
from 70 to 100 per cent and Fail from 30 downwards, this order is
somewhat sabotaged. In their purest form, and in order to avoid problems
in statistical analysis, all categories in an interval scale must have the same
distance from each other.
Interval data is commonly used in social and psychological (and hence
sociolinguistic and psycholinguistic) research in the form of Likert scales,
which are discussed in detail in Chapter Four.
Ratio scale data
In addition to indicating equal distances between two adjacent scores, as
in interval scales, ratio scale data is characterized by having a natural zero
point, with zero indicating that there is no measurable amount of whatever
we are measuring. It is also possible for a ratio scale to be open-ended. For
example, a weight of zero indicates that an object does not weigh anything;
the amount of weight is hence zero. At the same time, an object can be
indefinitely heavy.
To illustrate the difference between interval and ratio data in more
language-related terms, the IELTS scores described above are usually
36. Quantitative research – some basic issues 27
interpreted as having equal distances, indicating a gradual increase of
learners’ proficiency; as such, we would interpret it as interval data. An
IELTS score of 1 means that the examinee is a ‘non user’. A non-user may
or may not produce ‘possibly a few isolated words’. A score of zero indicated
the examinee has not attempted the test. It does not, however, indicate that
the examinee has zero knowledge.
We could, however, think of a simple vocabulary recognition test using a
ratio scale, where learners are presented with a list of 100 lexical items and
are asked how many items they know. At the end, we calculate the score by
simply counting the number of recognized items. A score of zero indicated
that the participant has failed to recognize a single vocabulary item, that is,
has ‘zero’ vocabulary knowledge. A participant scoring 60 has recognized
twice as many items as one with a score of 30.
2.7. Continuous and discrete data
The final crucial distinction we can make is to look at whether our data is
discrete or continuous. Discrete data consists of finite or countable values,
while continuous data allows for infinitely many possible values on a
continuous scale without gaps or interruptions. For example, the number is
students in a class is a discrete variable, as the number must be an integer
(‘whole number’), that is, 1, 2, 5, 62 and so on. We cannot have 6.5 or 12.7
students in a class. If we consider our students’ age, on the other hand, we
look at continuous data, as a student might be 21.85482 years old – if we
can be bothered to break it down to exactly how many years, days and
hours he is old.
Please note that the discrete-continuous distinction only applies to our
raw, unprocessed data, not to the results any kind of statistical analysis
may bring us: if we are interested in the average seminar class-size at a
university, it is highly likely that on average we have something like 15.7
students – it does not mean that there is a class with 0.7 student in it. We
discuss the calculation of the arithmetic mean in Chapter Six.
2.8. Reliability and validity
Quantitative methods bear an advantage that should not be underestimated:
natural sciences, such as chemistry or physics, require ‘proper’ experiments
(i.e. certain research procedures or methods) to be objective and, crucially,
have to be replicable by anyone who is following the instructions. In other
words, anyone following this ‘recipe’ exactly, should get the same (or very
near same) result. This is very much like baking a cake: if two people put
exactly the same amount of ingredients together, mix them in exactly the
37. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
28
same way and then bake them under exactly the same conditions (i.e. time
and temperature), we should get two identical (or very near identical) cakes.
Even better, we should get two identical cakes independent from who the
baker is: it should not matter whether one is more experienced, or in a
foul mood, or tired, or quite simply hates cake. This works well in basic
chemistry: if we put exactly the same amounts of A and B together, at
exactly the same temperature and other environmental factors, we should
reliably get C – over and over again.
This is where the beauty of quantitative research lies: once we have
established our methods, we probably want our methods to accurately
measure the same thing again and again. Put briefly, reliability refers to a
method repeatedly and consistently measuring whatever it is supposed to
measure. In the most extreme case, if we took the same people and tested
them again in exactly the same way and exactly the same environment, we
should get exactly the same result if our method is reliable. In linguistic
research, this is difficult to achieve: people change, the environment changes,
and even if people are identical, they are unlikely to respond to the same
test in exactly the same way again – be it because they have the experience
of having done the test before or because they quite simply have a bad day.
Nevertheless, we need to ensure that our methods work reliably, and that
they remain reliable over time. At the same time, methods of measurements
must be constructed in such a way that they work independently from the
researcher using them: in whichever way we operationalize a variable, we
need to make sure that all potential researchers using our operationalization
will get same or similar data and results. That is why it is so important to
define variables clearly and with as little ambiguity as possible: if we are
interested in use the use of copular verbs like in the example above, we must
define our variable, that is, what constitutes a copula and what does not,
in such a way that any researcher carrying our the analysis knows exactly
what they are looking for. Copulas are a good example: some people
consider copular and auxiliary verbs as one and the same thing: English
‘be’ accordingly is the same in both sentences; after all, in both examples
the copula has little to no independent meaning:
a The girl is pretty.
b I am working.
In some cases, however, it might be useful to distinguish between the two
types. Crystal (1999), for example, defines copulas’ primary function ‘to
link elements of clause structure, typically the subject and the complement’
(73), while auxiliaries are ‘subordinate to the chief lexical verb in a verb
phrase, helping to express such grammatical distinctions as tense, mood
and aspect’ (30). According to these definitions, be in (a) is a copula,
linking subject (‘the girl’) with the complement (‘pretty’), while in (b) it
helps to indicate tense and aspect (present progressive). Whether we use a
38. Quantitative research – some basic issues 29
broad (no difference) or narrow (difference) approach does not matter per
se; the important point is that, first, our definition is the one that best fits
our research questions and, second, all researchers involved in our project
use the same definition. Just imagine what would happen if two people
analysing the same data using different definition – their results would be
incomparable and simply useless. The ability of our methods to measure
the same issue reliably independent from who is the researcher is sometimes
also called inter-observer reliability. In some context, where accuracy is
crucial but despite proper operationalization it can be difficult to measure
things exactly, it is common to use two people to code the data, either
independent from each other, or one spot-checking the coding of the other.
But even if we are the sole researcher, it is important that we use the same
definition every time throughout the same study.
A quick and easy, even though by far not the most reliable way to check
a method’s reliability (note the paradox) is the split-half method: we take a
sample of, for example, 100 people (for sampling, see Chapter Three), and
randomly split it into two groups of 50 people each. We then administer
our method to both groups. If our method is reliable, we should get equal
or near equal results for both groups. We discuss the practical issues of data
being ‘equal’ in Chapters Eight and Nine.
Another way to check reliability is the test-retest method: instead of
testing two samples with the same method, we test the same sample with
the same instrument at two different points in time. If our instrument is
reliable, we should get very similar results for both test and retest. The
test–retest method is problematic whenever we work with human beings:
people learn from experience and tend to draw on their experience from
the first test during the retest. In other words, they know what is coming,
which can substantially impair the retest’s significance. When can obtain a
good indicator for a measurement’s reliability using a correlation analysis
based on the test-retest method – we will discuss this at the end of Chapter
Seven.
A second factor we have to consider in quantitative research is that of
validity. Whenever we measure something we obviously want our result
to be as accurate as possible. Validity comes in several different forms and
shapes; here, we will focus on the one most important one for linguistic
research: measurement validity. Measurement validity, often just called
validity, is difficult to explain, let alone to achieve: it refers to the issue
of whether our method actually measures what it is supposed to measure,
allowing us to draw appropriate conclusions. The copula definition example
above is also an issue of validity: if we have not clearly defined our variable,
how can we make sure what we measure is what we actually want?
Another typical example to illustrate validity is the design of
questionnaires. Let’s assume we are interested in people’s attitudes
towards the use of non-standard language or dialects. We are going to
measure attitudes by means of a questionnaire comprising ten questions,
39. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
30
and respondents have the choice of three answers: ‘agree’, ‘neutral’ and
‘disagree’. Now imagine that we ask all our questions in a particular way or
pattern, for example, ‘agree’ always indicates a positive opinion on dialects,
while ‘disagree’ always indicates a negative opinion. Annoyingly, many
people have the habit of answering questionnaires with a particular manner
and tendency: they tend to either more agree or more disagree, or, in the
worst case, have a ‘neutral’ opinion. If, as in our example, ‘agree’ always
corresponds to a positive attitude towards dialects, all our questionnaire
measures is respondents’ tendencies to either agree or disagree, but gives us
certainly no idea about what respondents’ actual attitudes towards dialects
are! In this case, our questionnaire is a highly invalid method. We will
return to the issue of reliability and validity when we have a closer look at
questionnaire design in Chapter Four.
Validity, or lack therefore, can become are rather annoying issue in
a situation where we have many third and latent variables, as discussed
above. If our data is not actually influenced by what we think influences it,
but by something else, how can it we validly measure it? The best option is
to conduct a pure experiment (see Chapter Three), where we as researchers
have full and total control over all variables. Certain psycholinguistic
questions are well suited for an experimental inquiry, and experiments are
frequently used. It does not take long, though, to realize that laboratory
experiments are not an option for studies require linguistic data as it occurs
in real life. In these cases, only thorough planning and preparation, based
on extensive research of the theoretical background involved, can help us
to minimize this problem.
2.9. Hypotheses, laws and theories
Before we move on to the next chapter, we briefly need to define three core
concepts in any kind of research, be it qualitative or quantitative. Hypotheses
are statements about the potential and/or suggested relationship between at
least two variables, such as ‘the older a learner, the less swear words they use’
(two variables) or ‘age and gender influence language use’ (three variables).
Hypotheses can be proven right or wrong – the point of quantitative research
is to do exactly that! In fact, a hypothesis must be proven right or wrong.
For a hypothesis to be proven correct or incorrect, it is important for it to
be well defined. In particular, hypotheses must be falsifiable and not be
tautological: the hypothesis ‘age can either influence a person’s language
use or not’ is tautological – independent from our findings, it will always be
true (age either does or does not influence a person’s language use). A good
hypothesis, however, must have the potential of being wrong.
For quantitative research, it is useful to remember that our hypothesis
should relate to something we can actually measure. As with all things, it
is worth spending some time to think about the phrasing of our hypothesis
40. Quantitative research – some basic issues 31
(or hypotheses) – it will make things much easier once we get to the stage
where we develop our methodology. As a general guideline, the more specific
a hypothesis is, the better. Note that ‘specific’ does not imply the depth
or scope of the study: for obvious reasons, a 3,000 word undergraduate
research essay will be different in terms of depth and scope from a project
that comes equipped with £500,000 of external funding. Yet, for both it is
essential to be clear about what we want to find out.
Based on the general focus of my department, many of my students
are interested in issues related to language teaching and learning, and
frequently, proposed topics for dissertations revolve around two aspects:
learners ‘liking/hating’ something, and a particular teaching/learning
method being ‘better’ or ‘worse’ than another. In the first stages, I usually
come across hypothesis such as:
Students like to learn in groups.
l
l
Using electronic resources for language teaching is better than using
l
l
traditional textbooks.
There is nothing inherently ‘wrong’ with these two examples, and both
outline what could be more or less interesting research projects. The
problem lies in the detail, and, in our specific case, the measurability. Let’s
have a closer look at the first example: while is gives us a general idea of
what the researcher is after, the ‘hypothesis’ is far too vague and, as such,
it seems impossible to find a reliable and valid measure to prove/disprove it.
There is, for a start, the term ‘students’ – who exactly are they? What levels
of study? What age? What cultural background? Everyone vaguely familiar
with learning and teaching theory will know that these are three of a whole
list of issues that are important; ‘students’ as a generic term is simple not
precise enough, and a study, especially a small-scale one, is bound to fail
if the group we are interested in is not defined properly. ‘Native speakers
of English primary school children learning Japanese’, however, clearly
defines the group and sets the scene for all methodological implications
that come with it.
Then, there is the word that regularly sends shivers down my back: ‘like’.
We all like or hate things, but, unfortunately, ‘like’ is a rather difficult feature
to measure. What exactly do we mean when someone ‘likes’ something? Do
they have a preference in using one thing above the other? How strong is
this preference? Where does ‘like’ end and ‘love’ (another favourite) end?
A better phrasing is to work is ‘prefer’ or ‘show a preference for’ – quite
simply because we can objectively measure preference. Thirdly, there is the
generic ‘learn’ – learn what? Again, we need to specify this much more.
And lastly, ‘in groups’ is equally vague: indications of group size is the least
we should include into our hypothesis.
Despite what it may sound (or read) like, I am not being nitpicking: how
can we reliably and validly measure what we have not even clearly defined
41. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
32
beforehand? A project looking at ‘how students learn’ is predestined to go
wrong – simply because it is too vague. For our example, a much better
hypothesis could be:
English native speaker primary school children show a preference
for working in groups of 3–5 when acquiring new vocabulary items
compared to working in traditional full-class environment.
This hypothesis is clearly defined, it is measurable and, crucially, falsifiable:
the kids may or may not prefer working in small groups, and we have
quantitative evidence to prove it. Talking about falsifiability, most of us like
our beautiful and carefully designed hypothesis to be proven right – it is an
ego thing. However, it may be that your empirical evidence shows that your
hypothesis is wrong. This might be disappointing, but is not inherently
a bad thing: assuming that our hypothesis is a reasonable one, that is,
emerged from what we know from previous studies, and assuming that
our methodology is valid and reliable, proving a hypothesis wrong is still
a noteworthy result. After all, we still contribute to knowledge by showing
that a particular view on a topic does not work. And while we generally
phrase hypotheses in a positive way (X does cause Y), if we are really too
upset that our data has proven us wrong, we may want to change our
entire argument in such a way that our hypothesis is that X does not cause
Y – in other words, we would structure our study around an argument of
exclusion.
Laws are hypotheses or a set of hypotheses which have been proven
correct repeatedly. We may think of the hypothesis: ‘Simple declarative
sentences in English have subject-verb-object word order’. If we analyse
a sufficient number of simple English declarative sentences, we will find
that this hypothesis proves correct repeatedly, hence making it a law.
Remember, however, based on the principle of falsifiability of hypotheses,
if we are looking at a very large amount of data, we should find at least a
few instances where the hypothesis is wrong – the exception to the rule.
And here it becomes slightly tricky: since our hypothesis about declarative
sentences is a definition, we cannot really prove it wrong. The definition
says that declarative sentences must have subject-verb-object (SVO) word
order. This implies that a sentence that does not conform to SVO is not
a declarative; we cannot prove the hypothesis wrong, as if it is wrong we
do not have a declarative sentence. In this sense it is almost tautological.
Hence, we have to be very careful when including prescriptive definitions
into our hypotheses.
A much better example for laws are sound changes: if we start with the
hypothesis that during the ‘Great Vowel Shift’ during the Early Modern
English period all long vowels moved upwards into a higher position (e.g.
/e:/ became /i:/, /o/ became /u:/), we will see that, when analysing a large
enough number of examples, the hypothesis is repeatedly true. Yet, we will
42. Quantitative research – some basic issues 33
also see that there are exceptions, that is, situations where the vowels did not
move their position – mainly in combinations with particular consonants
(see Baugh and Cable 2002, for an overview). So, we have a law on sound
changes, but as with every rule, there are exceptions.
Lastly, theories are systems which combine several hypotheses and
laws, all of which are in a logical relationship to each other. As such, we
may want to consider the Great Vowel Shift as a theory, as it can only be
fully explained as a complex interplay between various laws: most vowels
moved upwards (law 1) but some did not (law 2) or moved into a lower
position (law 3), based on the preceding/following consonant (laws 4 and
5) and so on.
Exercise I: Variables
1 Identify whether the following outcomes are discrete or continuous,
and explain your decision:
a Total time a London cab driver spends stopped at traffic lights
in any given day
b Number of strikes in the car industry each year
c Number of left-handed people in the population
d Quantity of milk produced by a cow each day
2 Determine and explain which levels of measurement are most
appropriate for the following data:
a Ratings of excellent, very good, good, poor, unsatisfactory for
students work
b A person’s sex
c British National Insurance Numbers
d Percentage of all university students studying linguistics
Exercise II: Hypothesis and theory building
Design a set of hypotheses which have the following properties:
at least one of your hypotheses should include two or more
l
l
independent variables,
your hypotheses should include variables at least two different levels
l
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of measurement,
at least one hypothesis should contain a clear causal relationship,
l
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your hypotheses should be in a logical relationship to each other,
l
l
that is, have the potential of forming a theory.
44. CHAPTER THREE
Research design and sampling
Key words: artefacts – ethics – longitudinal, cross-sectional, panel designs –
population and sampling – real time and apparent time – sampling
techniques – research design – representativeness – sample error – project
planning and management
Having discussed the very basics of quantitative research in the previous
chapter, we now have to address the question of how we are going to get
from our hypothesis to reliable and valid results. In this chapter, we will
focus in some detail on research design and sampling. In Part One of this
chapter, we will introduce different potential research designs, such as
cross-sectional, longitudinal, experimental and quasi-experimental, and
discuss advantages, disadvantages and pitfalls of each method.
Part Two discusses various sampling techniques, explaining advantages
and disadvantages of sampling methods. In particular, we address
typical sampling problems encountered in linguistic research (e.g. lack of
standardization of participants, etc.). This chapter also addresses ethical
implications of linguistic research, with regard to privacy and anonymity,
working with minors and minorities, and researchers’ safety. New in this
edition is an overview of issues to do with managing your project and how
to keep a check on time, resources and scope.
Research design is best described as the actual structure according to which
our study is organized. As such, together with the theoretical grounding,
the design forms an important part of the overall methodological-analytical
framework which we use to answer our research questions, and to prove
or disprove our hypotheses. Research design does not, though, refer to the
actual instruments we use in our investigation (such as questionnaires or
interviews), although the relevance of good interplay between hypotheses,
existing theory, methods and design cannot be emphasized enough; and there
is a particularly strong connection between design and instruments chosen.
45. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
36
Research designs can be subsumed under two main categories:
longitudinal, cross-sectional and panel designs structure our research in
terms of a temporal order, while experimental and quasi-experimental
designsallowustoinvestigateourquestionthroughtheexplicitanddeliberate
manipulation of variables. We will discuss each type subsequently.
3.1. Cross-sectional designs
Cross-sectional designs are probably the most frequently used in
linguistic, social and psychological research. In cross-sectional designs,
a comparatively large amount of data is acquired at one given point in
time, providing an overview of how a particular variable (or variables) is
distributed across a sample (see Section 3.6) at a particular moment in
time. As such, cross-sectional research is useful for providing a snapshot
of a status quo – it describes reality how it is right at this very moment.
Cross-sectional research is characterized by two key features: first, we are
dealing with a multitude of cases, that is, a number of cases (in linguistics,
often people) that is significantly larger than one; the large amount of data
will allow us to describe and explain the particular feature of reality we
are interested in (i.e. our research question) in greater detail and accuracy.
From Chapter Five onwards, we will see that many statistical tools provide
us with increasingly accurate results with increasing amount of data, hence,
a study based on 50 people will give us a more ‘true’ picture than a study
based on only 5.
Second, cross-sectional data is collected within a particularly short time
frame – ideally, all our data is collected simultaneously, hence ruling out
any changes which might occur over time. Needless to say that in practice
this can be rather problematic.
Labov’s study on the ‘social stratification of /r/ in New York City
department stores’ (Labov 1972) is an excellent example of a cross-sectional
study in linguistics. Using rapid anonymous interviews, Labov was able
to collect data from 264 respondents in just 6.5 hours over one or two
days. His results enabled him to make conclusions about the prestige of /r/
across different social classes at a particular point in time. The advantage
should be obvious: collecting all data almost simultaneously, any changes
in linguistic behaviour are unlikely to occur, simply because linguistic
change and changes in the sociocultural environment surrounding it are
much slower processes.
Cross-sectional designs are commonly used in quantitative research, as
the comparatively large amounts of data collected are particularly useful
for studies which aim to either describe a status quo to an extent to which
some generalizations are possible, or to detect relationships between
independent and dependent variables while simultaneously ruling out that
46. Research design and sampling 37
those relationships change over time. In the Labovian example above,
linguistic behaviour was strongly linked to socio-economic class and the
prestige different classes assign to a particular feature. If, for whatever
reason, prestige changes while we are conducting our data collection, we
will inevitably receive skewed results.
I am frequently asked by students about the time frame in which cross-
sectional studies should take place; in other words, when does a cross-
sectional design stop being a cross-sectional design? Unfortunately, a
definite answer (‘two days and six hours’) does not exist. Yet, with a bit of
common sense it should be relatively easy to determine a time frame.
First, in linguistics, cross-sectional, unlike experimental studies, are
usually used to investigate the variables linked to either the linguistic
features or the language user (including exogenous sociocultural variables
in sociolinguistics). I assume most readers agree that linguistic change is a
comparatively slow process, with changes unlikely to happen overnight or
even within a few days or months. Hence, a study investigating a particular
linguistic feature is unlikely to be negatively affected by change, even if data
collection takes place over a longer period of time. That is, although data
is collected at various points within a particular time frame, it is unlikely
that the results are affected by change. Milroy’s (1987) study on language
use and social networks in Belfast was primarily a cross-sectional design,
despite being conducted over a prolonged period of time: because the social
networks she looked at were very stable, with very stable norms governing
language use within those networks, language change did not occur, even
though her data was not collected within a short period of time.
It is important to remember that language is hardly ever looked at without
due consideration of its user. As social beings, humans move around an
environment that can, quite often, undergo rather rapid changes. In other
words, the context in which language is used may change halfway through
a cross-sectional study, which can cause a serious impact on the results.
In this case we talk about a quasi-experimental design (see below). So, in
short, while there is no definite time frame for a cross-sectional study, we
should carefully monitor the environment in which we collect our data for
sudden changes.
Similarly, for research questions that involve, by their very nature,
processes of change, cross-sectional designs are not suitable. For example,
first language acquisition is a process in which children acquire are
substantial linguistic competence within a very short time span, mainly
between the ages of 18 months and 3 years. With change being that inherent
to the subject matter, it is highly unlikely that we get reliable results with a
cross-sectional design. Also, for topics where change in the defining criteria,
it is more than likely that it is change and development we are interested
in – again, this is something we cannot account for with a cross-sectional
design, which can only provide us with a snapshot.
47. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
38
3.2. Longitudinal designs:
Panels and cohorts
Longitudinal designs are distinguishable from cross-sectional designs in
two major respects: instead of looking at a large number of cases once,
longitudinal studies look at a small(er) number of cases on several (at least
two) occasions. In short, while cross-sectional studies allow us to draw
conclusions about a status quo at a particular moment in time, longitudinal
studies allow us to observe changes that occur over time. Also, longitudinal
designs may, to a certain extent, shed more light on causal relationships than
cross-sectional studies, because certain patterns may become more obvious
when measured repeatedly. Please note that for longitudinal designs we still
need a considerable amount of data for a proper quantitative analysis, for
mathematical–statistical reasons. But unlike cross-sectional designs, where
a large amount of data is created at one point in time by a large number of
‘cases’, in longitudinal designs, fewer cases produce data repeatedly.
Since they are based on the repeated collection and analysis of data,
longitudinal designs are rather resource intensive, and social sciences and
psychological research often try to avoid them (see Bryman 2004). Yet,
for linguistic studies, longitudinal designs offer the opportunity to observe
changes in linguistic behaviour over time in great detail. In fact, longitudinal
designs are the only way to observe linguistic change.
As with cross-sectional designs, there is no definite answer as to
what makes a longitudinal design longitudinal; as before, it depends on
the research question we are trying to answer. We may, for example, be
interested in the development of young children’s vocabulary size. As a
general guideline, most children utter their first word at around the age of
12 months, have an average vocabulary size of 500 words at 18 months
and by their second birthday, the average child has about 500 words at
their disposal. Accordingly, if we base our longitudinal study on two data
collections, one at the age or 12, the second at the age of 24 months, we
will be able to see a dramatic increase in vocabulary size. However, this
also means that we are losing a lot of detail, as we are unable to see what
exactly happens within these 12 months; we cannot detect any major
intermediate stages.
Yet, some linguistic changes are much slower: the Great Vowel Shift,
for example, during which all long vowels in English moved their position,
is commonly agreed to have taken place somewhere between 1400 and
1700 (see, for example Baugh and Cable 2002) – that is, a massive 300-
year span! As described below, Woods’ work on sound changes in New
Zealand seems to occur from generation to generation – still much slower
than a child’s vocabulary acquisition, but quicker than the Great Vowel
Shift. Even though I am repeating myself, but this again emphasizes the
importance of thorough research and a good familiarity with the theories
48. Research design and sampling 39
that are involved in our study, and to construct our methodological
framework around them.
Longitudinal studies come in two basic forms, differentiated only by their
sample: panel and cohort designs. For panel designs, the sample (or panel)
is drawn randomly from the population (see Section 3.6). For example,
let’s assume we are interested in the progression of Spanish learners of
English at a particular university (our population). From this population
we randomly select a small number of students, maybe ten, and we monitor
their progress at three different occasions through a standardized language
proficiency test as well as reflective interviews: at the beginning of January,
the beginning of April, and the beginning of July. Data collected at these
three occasions will allow us to draw conclusions about (a) the progression
of individual students over time, and (b) general patterns of progression for
the whole sample.
Cohort design work essentially similarly, but the sample we work with
is slightly different. Cohorts are groups of people who share a particular
characteristic which is often of temporal nature, for example year of birth,
year of marriage, or time spent learning a particular language. In our
above example, rather than looking at all Spanish learners of English at
our university, we are only looking at students who started in the 2011/12
academic year. Cohort designs are arguably better for controlling third
variables. According to Bryman (2004: 46), the crucial difference between
panel and cohort designs is that while panel designs allow us to observe
both cohort and aging effects, cohort studies can only identify aging
effects. Whether this is an advantage or a disadvantage depends on the
individual study.
An example: we are interested whether a particular phonological
variable changes over time. A panel study will allow us to analyse our
data on two dimensions: first, we can draw conclusions as to what extent
respondents’ progressing age influences their use of this particular variable
(e.g. the older respondents get, the less frequently do they use the variable).
Second, it also provides us with information about how respondents born
in a particular year change their usage of this feature, hence allowing us
to include information about generation differences. On the other hand,
with all respondents born in the same year, cohort designs only allow us
to observe change according to aging, as the year of birth is constant –
generational differences, for example, cannot be observed.
One of the main advantages of longitudinal designs, namely the ability
to measure change over time, is also one of its major pitfalls. With the
entire study depending on a particular group of people over a long period
of time, the research is easily compromised once members of the sample
start dropping out, due to lack of motivation, relocation or, in the most
extreme case, death. In other words, we may start with a sample of 20
people in 2013 for a 5-year study, but by the time we arrive in 2017 only
7 respondents remain. This may substantially impair the significance of
49. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
40
any results we may get, and, in the worst case, endanger the entire study.
Particularly in contexts where people frequently change due to the nature
of the context (at British universities, for example, a typical undergraduate
cohort is only here for three years), sample retention and hence longitudinal
studies can be problematic.
3.3. Pseudo-longitudinal designs:
Real-time and apparent time
While Labov’s study used a cross-sectional design to detect relationships
between linguistic and social variables at one particular point in time,
cross-sectional studies may, to a certain extent, also be used to simulate
longitudinal studies (Figure 3.1). In linguistic terms, we may want to design
onesynchronicstudyinsuchawaythatwecaninferdiachronicdevelopment,
without the hassle of having to run several repeated synchronic studies
over a prolonged period of time (Bayley 2004). In particular in Labovian
sociolinguistics, this is also known as real-time and apparent time. The
method was first developed by Labov (1963) in his Martha’s Vineyard
study. We shall look at a different example here.
Woods (2000) in her study on sound changes in New Zealand in essence
‘simulated time’: by looking at the speech of respondents from three
generations – grandmother, mother and daughter – she was able to pin down
changes in vowel sounds over time, even though the majority of data was
collected at the same point in time, that is, synchronically. Here, we have
real-time data for the respondents, but based on the sociolinguistic theory
that language is age-graded, looking at data from different generations
allows us to draw conclusions about diachronic development, or apparent
time, and hence language change. In other words, we are not looking at
how language is changing, but how it has changed already.
Note, though, that this type of design cannot offer the full explanatory
power (e.g. regarding causality) that real longitudinal designs offer, as
change can only be observed across the sample, but not at the level of an
Cross-sectional
at time a, b and c
Longitudinal
Time
FIGURE 3.1 Longitudinal versus cross-sectional designs.
50. Research design and sampling 41
individual respondent. It also assumes the relative stability of all other
factors – see Bayley (2004) for a comprehensive summary.
3.4. Experimental and quasi-experimental
designs
Experimental designs are fundamentally different from the ones discussed
so far: unlike longitudinal and cross-sectional designs, which allow
us to collect and observe ‘natural’ data, that is, data as it occurs in its
natural environment, experimental studies are based on the systematic
and deliberate manipulation of one or more variables by the researcher.
In their purest form, experiments are conducted in laboratories – facilities
that enable the researcher to have control over all, or almost all, variables
involved in a study – both overt and latent ones.
Traditionally, experimental designs are quantitative in nature and
consist of the comparison between the experimental group (the one affected
by the manipulation of variables) and a control group (not affected by
manipulation). We shall start with a classic example from outside the field of
linguistics: a pharmaceutical company, when developing a new drug against
the common flu, at some point has to test the effects of this new drug. In
essence, what they will do (with first animals and later humans), is to take
a group of people suffering from flu and split them into two equal halves.
Then, they administer the drug to the experimental group, and nothing (or
a placebo) to the control group and measure the difference afterwards. If
the new drug is any good, the experimental group should show some signs
of improvement, while the control group does not. Statistical methods,
which we will discuss in Chapters Six to Ten, help to determine whether
the drug really makes a significant difference. It is important to note that in
experimental designs, the assignment of any respondent into experimental
or control group is completely random, that is, any respondent may end
up in either group. Also, respondents usually do not know which group
they belong to, as to avoid the impact of any psychological factors that this
knowledge might create in a participant.
In linguistic research, too, experimental designs are based on the
deliberate modification of a variable for one group. Li’s (1988) study on
the impact of modified input on advanced Chinese learners of English
as a second language presented a set of sentences to his sample under
two conditions: half of the respondents (experimental group 1, EG1) were
given sentences for which meaning could be inferred from context (‘cue-
adequate’), the other half (experimental group 2, EG2) received sentences
which were cue-inadequate (meaning could not be inferred). That is, the
variable ‘input’ is modified in two ways: adequate/inadequate. Figure 3.2
outlined the process graphically. In step 1, as outlined, the allocation into
51. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
42
EG1 or EG2 was conducted randomly, and this should ensure that EG1
and EG2 start with the same level of English language proficiency. Step 2
involved the introduction of the two stimuli – cue-adequate sentences for
EG1, cue-inadequate sentences for EG2. In step 3, we test both groups for
their proficiency after the introduction of the stimulus, followed by step 4,
the analysis of the results: Li’s hypothesis at the outset was that cue-
adequate input is more beneficial to learners that cue-inadequate input;
accordingly, results on step 4 should be better for EG1 than for EG2.
Note that in this example, we deal with two groups of people, divided
by the two different ‘versions’ of the same variable ‘input’. This is often
referred to as between-subject designs – each group receives a particular
type of input, similar to the drug test example. As an alternative setup,
in a within-subjects design the same group of people receive two types of
stimulus, and we compare reactions to both stimuli.
For either setting, given that all other factors are constant, for example,
sentences should be of equal length and complexity, the comparison
between the two sets of input should provide reliable information as to
whether contextual cues help learners to understand the meaning of new
words, and according to Li, it does.
There are several advantages and disadvantages of both between-
subject and within-subject designs. Between-subject studies require more
participants, in order to create two groups of equal sizes. Also, it must be
ensured that the two groups are equal in terms of participant characteristics.
A random allocation of participants into groups should avoid any
participant-based bias; nevertheless, it is always worth checking: it is all
too annoying to realize afterwards that group A had significantly more men
than group B, while group B was significantly younger than group A – both
facts which would certainly substantially skew the result. Working with
one group, that is a within-subject design, avoids this problem.
On the other hand, within-subject designs put considerably more effort
on participants. This can lead to boredom or fatigue – neither is a desirable
feature for the reliability of our results. In addition, with increased length of
the task, participant may gain practice and hence improve their results. In
the worst case, this may lead to the creation of artefacts: that is, the results
Step 1 Step 2 Step 3 Step 4
EG 1 Stimulus 1: cue
adequate
T
E
S
T
EG 1 ≠
EG 2 Stimulus 2: cue
inadequate
EG 2
FIGURE 3.2 Setup of Li’s study.
52. Research design and sampling 43
we obtain are not based on respondents’ reaction to the actual content,
but on their reaction to the task. In other words, artefacts are results that
are based on how respondents react to a particular methodology, not on
respondents’ knowledge or reaction to the change in variables. As such,
the phenomenon is closely related to the issue of validity, as discussed in
Chapter Two.
Had Li used a within-subject design, we may imagine a situation
whereby respondents indeed start to suffer from fatigue, leading to their
performance decreasing across both stimuli. As a result, data we obtain
may not necessarily tell us how respondents’ perform with regard to
adequate or inadequate cues, but simply how well or badly they react to the
task. Artefacts can occur in all research designs, and the risk of creating
one should not be underestimated. Hand in hand with the thorough study
of previous research and methodologies used, any researcher designing a
study should hence continuously ask and critically evaluate whether the
method used really measures what it is intended to measure.
Quasi-experimental studies, too, are based on the change of one
(or more) variables; however, there are two crucial differences to
true experimental designs. First, the assignment of respondents into
experimental and control group is not random, but to some extent
‘naturally given’. Second, instead of a deliberate manipulation through
the researcher, in quasi-experimental studies an ‘external force’ changes
a particular variable. And since this sounds rather abstract, we will look
at an example. At the time of writing this book, there is a considerable
debate in the United Kingdom about the improvement of sociocultural
integration of migrants, and, inevitably, the use of the English language
as a means of facilitating integration as well as the provision of English
language/English for Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL) classes is a
major topic for politicians, media, policymakers and the general public.
Imagine, for ease of comprehension, that at this moment in time there
was no ESOL provision available for migrants. Now, let’s also assume the
government passes a law which, from next week onwards, significantly
improves ESOL provision but also forces migrants to gain an English
language proficiency equivalent to the Cambridge Advanced English
Certificate (CAE). However, in this first instance, provision will only be
provided for migrants of Pakistani descent. Hence, Pakistanis in Britain
‘automatically’ become our experimental group, that is, the group that will
be subject to a change in a particular variable (namely ESOL provision),
while all other migrants will not undergo any changes (i.e. are our control
group). We would design our fictional study around two points of data
collection: measuring proficiency of both experimental group and control
group before the new law comes into effect, and afterwards, let’s say in
six months time. Similar to real experimental designs, we would obtain
53. QUANTITATIVE RESEARCH IN LINGUISTICS
44
four scores which would allow then us to draw conclusion whether or not
the new policy has any effect on migrants’ English language proficiency:
Experimental group proficiency pre-stimulus
l
l
Control group proficiency pre-stimulus
l
l
Experimental group proficiency post-stimulus
l
l
Control group proficiency post-stimulus
l
l
The advantage of quasi-experimental designs is that they require relatively
little effort from the side of the researcher, as the introduction of the
change, or stimulus, is taken care of by other people. Yet, this is also our
biggest problem: unlike in real experiments, we have no control over third
variables and what is happening, and rely entirely on the observation of
potential changes. In addition, since the allocation of participants into
the experimental group is not random and participants will be aware of
this (just imagine the media coverage!), it is likely to trigger some kind
of psychological reaction (positive or negative) in them – a reaction that
is not based on the ESOL provision, but the fact that they are made to
participate.
3.5. Summary: Research designs
The use of a particular research design depends on several factors, but our
research question and hypotheses are the most crucial aspects. Table 3.1
summarizes the main characteristics.
3.6. Sampling
Inseparably linked to the choice of a research design the question of who
we would like to research, that is, who our participants are. On the surface,
this may seem obvious and the discussion here obsolete; yet, in order to
design a valid and reliable study we must have a look at the main concepts
involved: the population, the sample and sampling techniques.
The population defines the group of people we are generally interested
in; however, it does not necessarily mean all people (as in ‘all people living
in Britain’ or even ‘this universe’). More specifically, the population refers
to a group of people who share certain characteristics. As such, population
can equally refer to large or small groups: if we choose ‘mankind’ as the
population we are interested in, we include all human beings living on this
planet – currently around 6.6 billion individuals – with ‘human being-
ness’ being the common feature. Similarly, we may define our population
54. Research design and sampling 45
as ‘all native speakers of the English language’ – compared to mankind
a smaller population with just around 380 million individuals. However,
populations can also be defined as much smaller groups. Over the last
20 years, sociolinguistics and linguistic anthropology has paid increasing
interest in language use in minority communities. In my own research, I
defined population as all first generation migrants of Bangladeshi origin
who live in a particular London borough – explicitly excluding those
second generation people who were already born in London. Yet again,
I usually advise my undergraduate students for their final projects to go
much smaller and to define their population as something along the lines
of ‘all students of a BA(hons) English Language degree at Anglia Ruskin
University’ – a population that comprises a few dozen people.
The term population does not necessarily apply to people only (or animals
if you are a zoologist, or plants if you are a botanist): strictly speaking, a
‘population is defined as a set of elements; an element is defined as the basic
TABLE 3.1 Summary of different research designs
Type of design Possible application Pros/cons
Longitudinal Language change;
development of a
particular feature over
time
+ real-time observation of
change
− but external factors difficult
to control
− time and risk of sample
attrition
Cross-sectional Description of current
status of a particular
linguistic feature
+ comparatively fast
+ very accurate with the right
methods and framework (as
no change occurs)
− large sample
− cannot account for any
developments before time of
data collection
Experimental Influence of a particular
external stimulus on a
linguistic feature
+ total control of researcher
− often difficult to set up
− validity and reliability issues
Quasi-experimental Influence of a particular
external stimulus on a
linguistic feature
+ observation of real change in
comparatively short period of
time (cf. longitudinal)
− no control over change of
variable
− little control over external
factors
56. the big sticking-up collar gives a round-shouldered effect, and spoils
what is one of their best points, a graceful set and carriage of the
head and neck. They walk very straight, with all the motion from the
hips, and their feet very much turned out, and generally wear no
jewellery of any sort, except perhaps a pair of gold earrings, or a
ring or two, or a rosary of European patterns. There is nothing
characteristic in the way of native work or beads. The well-to-do
Filipino women wear more trinkets, and the Mestizas (Eurasians)
cover themselves with cheap and tawdry ornaments.
The favourite material for the camisa (bodice) is a native muslin
woven from the fibres of pine-apple leaves, called piña, an exclusive
manufacture of the Islands of Panay and Negros, where the pine-
apples grow wild in the jungles. This the Filipino women weave with
or without silk stripes and checks, and dye all sorts of colours; but
the lower classes and peasants hardly ever wear anything beyond
the plain, undyed yellowish-white, which, after all, suits them far
better than any other colour. They look well though, on great
occasions, in crimson, purple, or yellow, and they are wise when
they stick to those warm colours, for blues and greens are fatally
unbecoming to their yellow-brown skins, making them look heavy
and dirty. They seem to have no natural taste for colour though, as
they use some appalling aniline dyes, and make mixtures which set
one’s teeth on edge. They are only really safe when they stick to the
red sarong and undyed camisa.
The piña is woven on hand-looms, which can be seen and heard
clicking in almost every hut, and it is sent all over the Islands, and
fetches enormous prices, but then it is practically everlasting, and
when washed and done up with rice-starch, it looks like new.
They also have a muslin, much cheaper stuff, called Jusi
(pronounced Hoosee), which is made from a fibre procured in China;
and a third, and still cheaper one woven from hemp fibres and called
sinamay—and the result of it all is that to the uninitiated the three
materials all look exactly alike! On the piña the women do a very
beautiful embroidery of graceful designs worked out in fine white
57. sewing-cotton and marvellously shaded, mixed with drawn threads,
and some of the antique pieces are exquisite. This piña embroidery
is the only characteristic Filipino work I have been able to see or
hear of, except the decoration of some weapons, and the grass mats
with patterns.
The dress of the men I think I have already hinted at, and it, too,
is the last word in simplicity (short of the loin-cloth, which costume
is not allowed in the towns), for all the Filipinos wear in the house is
tight drawers and a vest, and when they go out they draw on over
those a pair of white or blue cotton trousers and a collarless shirt,
rather like a Chinaman’s coat, which I described to you before, I
think. This shirt hangs outside the trousers, really looking much
better than it sounds, and on galas and occasions of state they turn
out in an ordinary European shirt, with a starched front, all pleated
and embroidered, such as Frenchmen and Germans sometimes wear,
and they look so clean and smart in them. In fact they look quite
nice in their native costume, but unfortunately many of them now
affect the white man’s buttoned-up linen coat, with stand-up
starched collar, and put on shoes and stockings, which subtly
vulgarises the wearers at once. Like all coloured races and many
white ones, as soon as they attempt modern European fashions the
Filipino taste is villainous, and they look inexpressibly common and
disheartening.
They are so clean—so scrupulously clean—all their clothes, even
those of the very poorest, being spotless and fresh. They are for
ever washing their bodies, too, or at least it is certain that the poor
people are, for they may be seen at the wells and outside their
houses tubbing ingenuously, the men with a single fold of stuff
retained for decency, the women struggling inside a wet sarong.
We went yesterday evening for a walk along the beach, on the
side of this spit where the view embraces the open sea and the end
of the Island of Guimaras, the latter with a promontory of
mountainous Negros jutting out behind and beyond it, and all the
rest clear horizon. The tide was out, so we walked on the firm wet
58. sand at the edge of the waves, little, flat waves which did not run up
very far, as the beach is steep and shelving. Over the mountains,
inland, the sky was a deep glowing orange and crimson, but from
where we were on the beach we could not see the mountains, only
glimpses of the gorgeous colour through the high palms that fringe
the shore; while on the other side, out to sea, was a reflection like a
delicate wash of pinky gold, set above deep blue sea and purple
islands.
We walked a good long way, as far as the ends of the streets that
come down on the beach, all dark with points of light, for the air
was deliciously soft and the breeze almost fresh, and as the sunset
faded, the stars came out and made quite a light upon the water,
they looked so big and bright. We enjoyed the walk very much, and
though we are too far this side of the town to be able to walk as far
as the open country, we are very lucky not to be a long way from
the beach, where we can always get a breath of fresh air and admire
the lovely evenings.
59. LETTER VIII.
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS
Iloilo, January 8, 1905.
This is my first letter to you in the New Year, and it does seem so
strange to be writing 1905 already.
I wonder how you brought the year in. We were invited to a ball
given by the Club Artistica, the Spanish Club, situated in a suite of
very large rooms in the upper story of a big house in the Calle Real,
the main street of the town, which I told you about when I was
describing the amazing shops. The big basements are shops, but the
long upper stories form large dwelling houses, very swagger ones,
only the dust and noise are very disagreeable, and the rents about
the same as flats in the best part of London, if not more. On these
two accounts, most of them stand empty, displaying long rows of
closed shutters, all the outside painted the prevailing bluey-grey.
Some are used as clubs, however, one being this Artistica, and
another, further down the street, the Filipino Club, which is called
the Santa Cecilia—dedicated very appropriately to the patron saint of
music, you see. These two clubs are very hospitable, and do nearly
all the entertaining in the place, except for an occasional lecture at
the Y.M.C.A., which, I daresay, is a wild revel, only I’ve never
summoned up courage to go and see. The Swiss and Germans have
a club, I believe, and the English Club has a beautiful house of its
own, but neither of these institutions does anything towards the
gaiety of nations, beyond playing billiards among their own members
exclusively. It is a relief, however, to think that the poor fellows do
not have such a very bad time as one might imagine, for they accept
everything and go everywhere. The same comforting remark applies
to the Americans, who have no club and don’t entertain privately,
except tea or Bridge parties amongst each other. So, as I said
60. before, it falls to the Spaniards and Filipinos to keep the place alive,
and very well they do it too, if the ball on New Year’s Eve was a
specimen of their average entertainments.
The Spaniards, Eurasians, and natives are all passionately fond of
dancing, and really fond of it, for they do not make it a question of
supper, as people do at home. All you have to do here is to clear the
floor and get in some musicians (half the difficulty here is to keep
groups of musicians out), and apparently your friends flow in. When
we are coming home in the evenings, we often see the salas of quite
little houses lighted up and full of people dancing, and I have seen
small native huts having a baile of two couples jostling round in a
space 10 feet square.
The chief room of the Spanish Club is a large apartment, almost a
hall, where, on ordinary evenings, the members can be seen
through the big lighted window-spaces, sitting about at little tables,
with glasses at their elbows, playing dominoes; but for the baile the
club was cleared and hung with electric lights in paper flowers, and
decorated with flags and palm branches, while in a large recess at
one side was a numerous string band of Filipino performers.
The music was excellent, but so slow that, as far as I was
concerned, dancing was no pleasure, though that was not much of a
grievance to me, as I was really far more anxious to look on than to
dance.
We were invited for ten o’clock, but when we arrived at eleven the
entertainment was only just getting into full swing. We had missed
the opening Rigodon, a dance without which no Filipino baile could
get under weigh at all, but the second half of the programme began
with one, and I was very much interested to see it.
Everyone who wanted to dance the Rigodon, and there were only
about three people who did not, sat round the room in an immense
square, as for a cotillon, and the band struck up a very jolly old
Spanish tune, to which the sides facing each other went through a
few simple figures at a very slow walk. When they had done, they
61. sat down, and the other two sides took their turn; and that, to
different tunes, was the whole dance, which went on for an
incredible length of time. The figures were a mixture of lancers and
quadrilles, but the dancers never went out of a dignified strut, and
though the first tune was followed by the inevitable Sousa marches
and “Hiawatha,” however lively the music became, the dancers
continued to stroll and bow and shuffle about at the same slow
pace. I am told that one becomes very fond of the Rigodon, but it
seemed to me intolerably dull and listless as a dance, though as a
spectacle it was vastly entertaining, and gave one a chance of really
seeing the people, and they were well worth the trouble of turning
out after dinner to look at.
The men wore white suits, most of them buttoned-up white coats
of the every day sort. There were three Englishmen in evening
dress, one or two in white mess jackets, and several advanced
young Filipinos in grey tweeds. The American women wore every
sort of outfit, from the missionaries and schoolma’ams in blouses
and boots to the more exalted personages in evening dress; while
the Filipinas, Mestizas, and most of the Spaniards had on the native
muslin camisa, some of them exquisitely embroidered and hand-
painted, and always worn with European skirts of appalling colours
and cut. One little brown woman had on a long train of scarlet plush,
with huge white lace butterflies fixed across and down the front,
which made one burst into perspiration merely to look at; and
another was in emerald green velvet, with straggling bands of gold
braid meandering over it in such a queer way that I could not resist
walking round her to see if any point of view would make the lines
come out as a pattern, but they refused to go by any rule of any art
—even the “newest.”
As to the waltzes, which formed the chief part of the programme,
they were very amusing too, for the variety of styles was infinite,
though the universal pace was so slow. The Spaniards and Mestizos
dance very well, and by that, of course, I mean Filipinos in general,
for it is very difficult to distinguish between them, and to say where
one race begins and the other leaves off. They are slow and
62. graceful. The Americans are equally slow, but not very graceful, for
they walk instead of dance, holding each other in such a peculiar
way, sideways and very close, the man leaning very far back, with
his partner falling towards him, and the hands that are clasped held
very high, and swinging up and down.
At twelve o’clock everyone began to cheer and shake hands as the
New Year came in; while the band played the American National
Anthem, which is a most magnificent air, and then the Spanish
Anthem, and then a few bars of “God Save the King,” which did for
us and the Germans equally well, and which we all thought a very
nice little compliment. Filipino waiters came in, carrying trays
covered with tall glasses full of some sort of champagne cup, and
everyone drank healths, shook hands, and wished their friends a
Happy New Year. We stayed on a little longer, and I danced a two-
step with a very nice American, which was the best dance I had the
whole evening, for it is one in which they excel, though they perform
it quite differently to what we are told at home is “the real American
way to dance it,” as they do not plunge down the room in straight
lines in the English fashion, but turn round more and make more of
a waltz of it.
Suddenly, during an interval between dances in the middle of the
programme, without a word of warning, a Mestiza sat down at the
piano and played an accompaniment to which a young Eurasian, in a
painfully blue satin dress, and with her face a ghastly grey-white
with thick powder, sang a truly terrible song. She screamed in an
awful manner, and I wondered that policemen did not rush up from
the streets to see what was the matter, but she was perfectly self-
possessed, and faced the audience with the aplomb and self-
confidence of a prima-donna. I never heard such “singing” in my life
—it was the sort of thing that is so bad that you feel all hot and
ashamed, and sorry, and don’t want to catch the eye of any relation
of the performer. This happened not once, but several times, and is,
I am told, a custom in Filipino bailes.
63. When we left at about half-past one, the ball was in full swing,
and I afterwards heard that it went on till half-past four or five.
Indefatigable people! I don’t know how they can keep it up so, for,
of course, the heat was very great—a temperature in which no one
would dream of dancing at home, and not a breath of cool air
anywhere, but I suppose they become accustomed to it.
One thing I have mentioned may strike you as odd, and that is the
mixture of races and Eurasians, but there is socially no marked
colour-distinction here as in every other country in the world, and
this, I imagine, is because the natives of the civilised parts of the
Philippines have been Christians for centuries, and intermarried with
a Christian race. The fusion is not, however, really very complete, as
one can see from a glance, at any gatherings, where the people of
various shades of white and brown keep very much together. Some
of the Eurasian women are quite pretty, but they spoil their little
round faces with thick layers of powder over their nice brown skins,
and use perfumes that nearly knock one down. The white men are
friendly with many of the Mestizos, and dance with their pretty
daughters, and are even occasionally foolish enough to marry the
latter; but white women keep quite apart from the coloured folk, and
it would be an unheard-of thing to dance with one; while as to
marrying a Filipino, no woman one could speak to would ever dream
of such a horrible fate. That is where the real impassable gulf is
fixed. The Americans profess not to recognise any distinction,
however, for, as I explained before, they announce that they
consider the Filipino of any class as their social and every other
equal, and have the expression “little brown brother” (invented by
Mr. Taft), which is supposed to convey and establish this generous
sentiment. The sentiment, apart from any political utility it may
possess, is a noble one, but it does more credit to the heart of the
Americans than to their wisdom.
The Spaniards did not recognise the Filipinos as equals, but
treated them with every courtesy, according to their degree, and I
believe that whatever the political situation may have been in those
days, society went peaceably enough, for every man knew his place
64. and kept it; a system admirably suited to an Oriental people. Now,
however, the régime is quite different, and the sudden glare of ultra-
equalising views is what the Filipinos can neither understand nor
profit by.
I wish I had been in the U.S.A to see many things for myself, but I
have always read and heard much about the hard and fast line
drawn in that country against “coloured” people and half-castes, and
that the Americans have learned to adopt this custom from years of
experience. This makes their professed attitude here very puzzling,
and I can find no one who can even attempt to reconcile this
extraordinary variation of opinion. Another unfathomable anomaly of
American thought is that the “Equality,” Nobility of the Human Race
—Rights as a human Being, and so on, are for the Filipinos, but all
these grand schemes officially take no account of the fierce, naked
savages; the Mahommedan tribes; the negritoes, and all the other
wild natives of the Philippines; though how, or where, or when, or
by whom the line is to be drawn and the distinction made is another
unanswerable problem.
New Year’s Day being a holiday, we thought we would treat
ourselves to a drive. So we sent one of the boys out for a carromata,
which is a sort of tiny gig, with the driver sitting on a small seat in
front of his fare, in fact almost on one’s lap. Rain had been falling
pretty well all day, and the carromata, when it arrived, was covered
with mud, and looked such a disreputable turn-out that we burst out
laughing when we saw it. However, there was no other to be had,
and after all it was a very good specimen, so we climbed in over the
wheel, and the driver, a boy of about twelve, gave the pony a chuck
and a whack, and it turned round in the direction of the Plaza, and
we stuck. Then the driver got down, and when he was out of the
way and the pony became visible, we saw that we weighed the cart
down so much at the back that as the little animal turned round he
got his neck wedged under the shaft and was held in a rigid yoke.
The youthful cochero shoved him down somehow, evidently both of
them quite accustomed to the trouble, and, once righted, the little
65. beast tore along, and we had a delightful drive in the cool of the
evening, enjoying the air, which was so fresh after the rain.
We did not go far out of the town, as the sky was rather
threatening, but kept more or less to the ever-amusing suburbs of
native huts, which literally swarm with human beings, to every one
of whom there is apparently an allowance of about six babies of
under one year old, and on the roofs are cocks and hens clinging to
the steep thatch; while under the hut lives the family carabao (a big
grey water-buffalo) in his mudhole, along with stray dogs and wild
pigs which eat up the refuse.
The number of children, very young children, is something
astounding, but, according to statistics, I learn that 60 per cent. of
the children born in the Philippines die under one year old, so that
must help to keep the numbers of grown-up people down a bit.
They are miserable little languid scraps, thin and solemn, but so
supremely fortunate as to wear no clothes whatever, till they are
about six, when a short muslin jacket is put on, which is more for
adornment than anything else. The tiny ones ride astride the
mother’s hip, with little thin legs dangling, and round black head
wobbling about, looking so uncomfortable, poor little souls. They are
fed on rice, which they eat till their little bodies swell up to a certain
tightness, when the food is taken away, and they are not allowed
more till they have “gone down” again. This process results in a
permanent “rice-tummy,” which makes the babies look like air-
balloons set on drumsticks; but, somehow, they lose that as they get
older, and if they live, are generally very slender and well made.
There is a great fuss made now about this waste of infant life,
much of which is ascribed to the horrible and unhuman practices
and superstitions attending the birth of a Filipino child; but I imagine
from the appearance of the children themselves, that the whole
question is merely an example of the Survival of the Fittest, for of so
many children born in such a delicate race there must be numbers
who are unable and unfit to live. They are not a hardy people, these
Filipinos, and the heat, fevers, and plagues of the country affect
66. them even more than they do the white races, oddly enough. I
believe that in the wild parts the natives are stronger, and
sometimes live to a great age; but there the life is simpler; the
cross-breeding less frequent; in the absence of civilisation of any
kind the great Darwinian Law operates even more rigorously; and
the young who are sickly stand no chance at all of growing up and
transmitting their weakness. The skin of these people is not a
healthy skin, not a warm brown, but of a greeny-yellowy brown;
their fingers are delicate and weak, and their eyes not clear or
bright, but like little bits of dull plum-brown jelly.
67. LETTER IX.
TARIFFS—INSECTS
Iloilo, January 16, 1905.
The day has come round for me to catch the mail, but I feel that I
can hardly write calmly, as I am barely sane upon the subject I wish
to tell you about, which is the Customs. I told you about the opening
of our cases, and how we took them out of bond, as they were
valued at £30? Well, a day or two ago the bill came in, and when we
saw it we nearly fainted away, for the amount of duty came to 698
pesos—£70.
Of course we thought some mistake had been made, so C——
went off to the Customs officer and asked him what it meant. All the
consolation we got was that they were very sorry for us, but the
Appraiser had made a mistake, and classed some of our things
under Class B instead of Class A.
So C—— said he could not afford this sum, which was far more
than the whole of the contents of the cases were worth if they had
been new. Of course it was impossible to send them back to Hong
Kong, as we had taken them out of bond; but after a lot of talk, the
officer said we could “abandon the goods” if we liked, which means
refuse to pay the duty, when the things would be seized by the
Customs and sold by auction to pay the Government; but we should
be unable, by law, to buy them in ourselves. This seemed to be the
only alternative open to us, and C—— came back and asked me
what I thought of it, and asked the other Englishmen their opinion.
They were full of sympathy and very kind, and at last one of them
hit upon an excellent idea, which was to attend the sale and buy our
things in for us as cheaply as possible. This, then, was arranged, but
—“Oh no!” said the Customs, “you won’t gain anything by that,
68. because if goods, when put up for sale, do not fetch the price at
which the Customs House has valued them, they are publicly
burned.”
So that is the end of our story. We have paid more than their
value for our wedding-presents, which seems to me the meanest
and cruellest imposition I ever heard of. But I won’t say any more,
for the subject can only be as painful to you as it is to us. We must
just grin and bear it, I suppose, but good-bye to a pony and trap for
a longer time than ever, and good-bye to any little jaunts in the hot
season.
I must try instead to be more pleasant, and the only thing I can
think of is a little lizard I have been looking at for the last ten
minutes, while my thoughts roamed gloomily over each one of those
seventy good golden sovereigns that have gone to help to teach the
Filipino that he is my equal. A worthy cause, no doubt, but one that
does not appeal to me—at any rate to the extent of 698 pesos.
This little lizard, which lives in the cornice above my writing-desk,
has just come down on to the window beside me and nipped up a
fly in the smartest manner. This is his hunting-ground, for the
windows in the house only have sliding shutters, such as I described
to you, like all the houses here. Glass windows are almost unknown,
but this house happens to have them along the S.-W. front, where
some former occupant has put in doors on to the balcony, with glass
in the upper panels, because in the rainy season the Monsoon drives
in on this side.
In all the houses here these little grey lizards abound, living in the
cornices and corners of the ceilings, and feeding on flies,
mosquitoes, and any little toothsome creature they can pick up.
They must have plenty of supplies and wide variety, for one seems
to come across some new sort of insect every hour of the day—and
night. No fleas, however, I don’t mean that, for Filipinos are clean
and fleas are rare; but all sorts of queer insects crawl and fly and sit
about, all of which I suppose the lizards enjoy; and I imagine they,
69. in their turn, are having a good meal off some other still tinier
creature.
The ceilings are made of bulges of canvas or matting painted
white, pale blue, or green; or, in some of the old houses, with
patterns, as in Italy. In one house in Jaro, a big building with long,
wide-open window-spaces, there is a ceiling that is covered with
some sort of shiny oilcloth stuff, drawn up by buttons at intervals, so
that it looks like the seat of some giant padded leather chair—a most
fearful looking contrivance, but, no doubt, a source of much pride to
the Filipino who owns it. There is a wide space above these ceilings,
for the corrugated iron roofs are very deep, and here live rats, mice,
cats, cockroaches, snakes, all sorts of beasts, which come down into
the house for plunder. The nicest are these dear, clean, bright-eyed
little lizards, which make a funny and very pretty note, a sort of
clear, musical chuck-chuck. Sometimes, but very rarely, one of these
lizards is found with a forked tail, and this the natives look upon as
an emblem of the most extraordinary luck, and they do all they can
to catch the lizard and try to take off his forked tail, which they dry
and wear for anting-anting. Any kind of luck, or lucky emblem, is
anting-anting, and the mystical emblems, observances, and relics of
Roman Catholicism, which appeal to the Filipinos with irresistible
force, have but added to their original stock of superstitions.
In some of the houses there is a very anting-anting lizard, of a
large size, which makes a loud, clear double note like a cuckoo, that
can be heard a long way off. I have never seen a “Philippine cuckoo,”
as they are called, but have often heard them, and the houses that
have this anting-anting are well known. There is one in the old belfry
at Jaro, another in a house the other side of the Plaza there, and
one in a certain bamboo clump on the road to Molo, and so on, all
over the place.
A very general belief prevails that in the roof of each house there
lives a big snake, which has a terrific meal of rats every now and
then, and sleeps the rest of his time, coming down very rarely for
water. I can quite credit this story, for the space between the roofs
70. must be the very place for a snake, and many people tell me they
have seen these creatures, but I don’t suppose they are really in all
the houses. Curiously enough, I thought there was a snake overhead
before I had ever been told about such a thing, for one day, when I
was sitting in the sala, I heard a most extraordinary noise in the roof
overhead—a sort of heavy, dragging sound, and then a thump, and
then the dragging sound again—and, somehow, the thought of a
snake instantly came into my mind. When I spoke about it to some
friends, half jokingly, they replied quite seriously that it probably was
a snake I had heard, and then told me how they live in the roofs.
Talking of noises, one of the most curious sounds here is made by
the crickets, the cicadas, which shrill night and day, ceaselessly and
for ever. The ear becomes accustomed to the aggregate sound of
their high, thin note, though I, for one, never get to like it, and
sometimes it gets horribly on my nerves, so that I feel I must go
anywhere to get away from it. At first when I heard it I was always
having a curious impression of being in a Swiss field in the summer;
but now that has worn off, and I think if I ever go into the Swiss
fields again I shall think of nothing but Iloilo. When one of these
cicadas gets very near the house, it drives you nearly mad, and
when, as happened a few evenings ago, one is actually in the house,
everything must be searched for the beast before anyone can expect
sanity or sleep. This one that got in, stowed itself away in the
writing-table, and we had an awful time, standing almost on our
heads and streaming from every pore, before we found it in a tiny
corner where one of the drawers does not run quite into place.
When we fished the cicada out at last, or rather when one of the
servants came in and took up the hunt for us and caught it, we
found the disturber of our peace to be an ugly little browny-black
creature, with a narrow waist, and the silly thing refused to give a
single chirrup to show us how it was done.
Talking of insects, one of the things we are most fortunate about
in this house is that we have very few of the black or red ants, which
are a fearful plague in these Islands, so much so that one has to
stand the furniture with its feet in small enamel bowls filled with
71. water or paraffine to prevent the ants crawling up, for they eat
everything; and besides that, they look particularly nasty when dead
in jam or butter, or floating in tea or coffee. Some of these ants are
a good size, but the common sort are very small, and many of the
most destructive are simply red specks that run like lightning. They
are terrible destroyers, and I can’t think why ant-eaters don’t start
living in the roof menageries, for they would get on splendidly if they
did not die of over-eating. However, the ants do scavenge to a
certain extent, and the way a busy little mob can carry off a huge
dead cockroach is a lesson in natural history.
The cockroaches, by-the-bye, are the size of mice. They are the
most evil brutes I ever saw, besides being a constant source of
terror and worry. You will hardly believe this, for you know that I
never mind touching any animal—mice, worms, toads, slugs, earwigs
—and how I have so often been laughed at, and even sniffed at, as
rather an unpleasant young person, because I have no repugnance
to taking them up in my bare hand, for, after all, they are only poor
animals, and infinitely nicer to touch than many perfectly respectable
human beings. Do you remember those people at Karnak who
screamed when I brought them that lovely little toad with a speckled
stomach? And the good folk at home who shudder if you pick up a
poor slug out of a dusty road? Well, when it comes to these
cockroaches, I confess that I have a genuine horror of the great red,
evil-smelling brutes, with their horrible bulgy eyes and their long
moving red antennæ. I can’t tell you what it is about them—but I
am not alone in this, for everyone has a horror of them. They breed
in the cesspits, and prefer manure to any other diet, but will gladly
supplement their menu with any form of food, as well as leather,
paper, books, or clothes. The houses, the shops, and the steamers
are full of them, and in the evenings they come out of their holes
and run about. Ugh! they make one shudder. And every now and
then they take it into their heads to fly about or into the lighted
rooms, and I have even seen men who have been here for years
turn quite sick when a cockroach lights on them, and as for the
72. average woman, she screams outright, and many white women
faint.
These horrible brutes are the curse of housekeeping, necessitating
everything being kept in glass jars or tins, and cupboards and
drawers being overhauled and searched every week or so. I must
say, though, that we have not had so much trouble with them as
most people, and so far I have never had one amongst the linen or
clothes, and I believe this is because I hang cakes of naphthaline in
the rooms, and put balls of it in all boxes, drawers, and cupboards,
and they don’t seem to like naphthaline, though they would come a
thousand miles to eat ordinary insect powder, which is, apparently,
just the very thing on which to bring up a nice little family of forty or
fifty young cockroaches.
There are some pleasing spiders too, one of which I saw the other
day, with a body nearly the size of the palm of my hand, sitting in a
huge, tough web like a hammock, and looking exactly like those in
Doré’s picture of the Guest Chamber in the Castle Inn, in Croque
Mitaine.
I said there were very few fleas, but the mosquitoes make up for
any biting that has to be done. I am beginning to get more
accustomed to their venom now, but at first I was quite ill and
feverish from it, and many people suffer so that it amounts to an
illness, and white men frequently have to be invalided home for
nothing but mosquitoes. Nothing I have ever seen in any place
round the Mediterranean approaches the Philippine mosquito for
venom or ferocity, and here, too, their efforts are not confined to the
night-season when lucky mortals are stowed under nets with no
rents in them, but they bite relentlessly all day as well.
Well, I tried to leave harrowing subjects and tell you something
more cheerful than the Customs woes, but I seem to have drifted
into other griefs, and as my spirits are evidently damped beyond
hope to-day, I had better leave off writing and end my letter.
74. LETTER X.
A FILIPINO THEATRE—CARABAOS
Iloilo, January 22, 1905.
We went a night or two ago to a performance at the theatre—a
Filipino performance in a Filipino theatre. I daresay it sounds strange
to you to hear of a theatre in Iloilo, but you see this is really a very
large town, and then all the people are musical, and they have
plenty of time to rehearse. They get together little dramatic clubs,
the chief one of which is not far from here, “as the crow flies,”
though I think he would be a very keen crow for theatricals if he
flew there as straight as he could. We heard this performance, an
operetta, being rehearsed night and day before the performers
considered it ready for the theatre. The rehearsals that went on until
the early hours of the morning were those we cared least about; but
we were really interested to hear them going on all day as well, for
no one in the Dramatic Club apparently had any other occupation in
life. At least, this seemed to me strange till I had become better
acquainted with the Filipino character.
To get to this show, we set off after dinner, driving in a hired
quielez with a disturbing cockroach somewhere about it, and soon
came to a squash of all sorts of carriages and carts in one of the
broader streets of the town—and a squash of vehicles driven by
Filipinos is something no human mind can imagine without
experience. We escaped alive, and went in at a big gateway into a
courtyard, passing several stalls lighted with flaring naphtha, where
native women sat behind flat rush trays containing cakes and
sweetmeats, tumblers of coloured drinks, and ordinary ginger-beer
and lemonade bottles. This, though I did not know it at the time,
was the buffet.
75. Inside the courtyard another high gate, decorated at the sides
with palms and paper roses, and very dimly lighted, led to the door
of the theatre, a big, crazy-looking building, and here stood two
inconceivably stupid and self-satisfied natives bullying everyone, and
making a hopeless and baffling muddle of the tickets. Why they did
this I can’t think, as everyone passed into the place alike, whatever
their ticket was, and scrambled up a broad wooden staircase, very
steep and rickety, or else went about the ground-floor, every man
looking for his own seat, and getting turned out of it by the next
comer.
The “boxes” were little pens railed off, containing six chairs with
no room for your knees, and in and out of these and up and down
the precipitous staircase jostled a crowd of Filipinos, Mestizos,
Chinamen, and Spaniards, with little dark women in gaudy camisas,
wearing flowers in their hair and diamond brooches. Here and there
an American was patiently and persistently trying to gather
information in his own language, while he took some female relation
in a white cotton dress upstairs and then down again, to keep her
quiet.
I was so amused by these proceedings that I really felt as if it did
not matter whether that was all we saw, but, nevertheless, we toiled
up the staircase at the promptings of an obliging Filipino with one
eye, very soon found our box, and settled down to wait for the
friends who were to join us.
In about two minutes, however, we were engaged in an endless
discussion with a little mob of “brown brothers,” who declared quite
politely that we had no right there, as the box was theirs. So we
moved off and tried the ground-floor again; found another box with
our number on it, empty; sat down again, put fans and programmes
on the opposite chairs, and began to look about.
But we were shifted again, so this time we tackled a native selling
programmes, and asked him where our box was, and why the little
pens all seemed to have the same number; and he, in very broken
Spanish, at last made us understand that the numbers were
76. repeated six times, once on each side upstairs and down. This was a
wonderful effort of lucidity for a Filipino, and really helped us a good
deal. So we toiled upstairs again, feeling sure that we knew all about
the theatre now, and determined on a shot at the sides. On the way
there we were delighted to see that the people who had turned us
out of our first box were being ousted in their turn, but by this time
we had begun to giggle, and were too helpless with heat and
laughter to take much notice of anything. At last we got into a box
from which we were never evicted during the rest of the evening,
though some people did come along with a programme-seller to
back their claim, but we showed fight, and they went away again.
The theatre, a long, wooden building, appeared even more
ramshackle from the inside than it had from the outside, and
infinitely more dangerous, for the electric light was supplemented by
Japanese paper lanterns, which looked the last word in incendiarism;
and, when one considered the packed mass of faces all round, it was
wiser not to let the imagination dwell on that steep wooden stairway,
which was all there was between us and the next world.
The floor of the building was arranged with rows of chairs facing
squarely, by way of stalls, surrounded by a row of the boxes I have
described, where the chairs went sideways. Above jutted out a broad
balcony with a similar row of boxes, and above that again, jammed
under the ceiling, was a dense crowd of poor people, standing on
what was really only a ledge with an iron rail; and they looked
positively more like huge black and white flies clinging to the ceiling
than anything else.
Everything looked as if it must fall down or break up, but no one
seemed to be worrying about their doom, in fact all the faces were
remarkably pleasant and jolly.
The stage was a fairly large one, with a row of electric footlights,
which waxed and waned and waxed again at their own sweet will,
and quite regardless of the needs of the performance. In front of the
stage, on the floor-level, was an orchestra of natives who really
played very well indeed, and they and all the men in the audience
77. were in white, which looks very quaint until one’s eye is accustomed
to it.
The piece performed was an operetta called “La Indiana,” a rather
confused story about some old Mestizo with a white beard, whose
son had secretly married an Indian, which is the word the Spaniards
use for the Filipinos, and is employed by the Filipinos themselves as
well, when talking Spanish. Well, the old father informed his son, an
appalling, gawky, young Mestizo in a black morning coat, pepper and
salt tweed trousers, and a very bright blue tie, that he must marry a
white (Mestiza) girl of his, the father’s choosing. On hearing which,
the hero sang a song to the effect that he would abandon the
Indiana, and had a long duet with that personage to explain that
they would just say nothing at all about being married. Then all the
chorus came in again, the old father blessed the hero and the
“white” girl, whereupon the Indiana, a frightfully ugly Filipina with a
fine voice, sang a long and frenzied solo with her hair down—and
then the curtain fell.
I thought there must be another act, and was very much surprised
to find that was the conclusion of the story. But evidently, to the
native imagination, the plot was complete and the ends of poetic
justice satisfied. They did not really act and sing as badly as I had
expected, though, when one came to think of “La Indiana” as a
public performance in a theatre, it really verged on audacity. No
attempt at scenery or dress was made, the whole action taking place
in a bare, worn, old “set” of a room, the usual stage room, unlike
anything else on earth, and the only attempt at costume was the
substitution of very ugly old European blouses for the camisa, which
was a fatal mistake.
We left after the first piece, though there were to be two more of
the same sort, for it was very dull and depressing. There is nothing
in these Filipinos, you see, for they have not the melodious voices of
negroes, nor the faultless ear of Spaniards, nor the fine physique of
Chinese, nor the taste of Japanese—they are simply dull, blunt,
limited intelligences, with the ineffable conceit of such a character all
78. over the world, and when they break out into a display such as “La
Indiana,” all these deplorable qualities show up in the glare of the
white light that beats even upon an Iloilo stage.
Yesterday we went for a delightful drive out along the Jaro road,
off which we turned a little way beyond the town, and went down a
rough, sandy track to the banks of a broad, half-dried-up river, not
the Iloilo river, but another parallel to it, or a branch.
79. Riding a Carabao.
To face page 78.
There we got out and walked down the steep bank on to the
sandy bed, where we strolled about for a long time, watching strings
of carabaos coming up from being watered, each herd led by a small
boy, riding on one of the big old grey cows with a calf running
alongside. They looked very picturesque, with the shallow river all
the colours of the sunset, and the tall palms on the opposite bank
standing in black silhouette against an orange-crimson sky.
The carabaos are big grey or reddish-grey water-buffaloes, with
immense horns curving backwards, and a long, narrow, flat muzzle.
They are used for every sort of purpose, the natives even riding and
driving the great unwieldy creatures like horses, and guiding them
by means of a single string passed through between the nostrils. If
they want the carabao to go to the right they pull the string steadily,
80. if to the left, they give a sharp jerk. Sometimes when the master is
angry he will pull the poor carabao’s nose, so that he tears the piece
of flesh out altogether; not at all an uncommon occurrence, and
nothing distressing to a Filipino.[3] In the days of the rebellion
against Spain, a few years ago, when the Filipinos caught the hated
Spanish friars, they ran a rope through the priests’ noses, tied their
hands, and led them about like the carabaos, so that people might
spit upon the hated tyrants, and insult them at their own pleasure.
The carabaos are as gentle and amenable as horses with the
natives; quite tiny children ride and bully the huge beasts, looking so
comically small on the big backs, with their tiny brown legs hardly
reaching to each side of the broad ribs, and driving whole herds with
the most perfect independence and self-possession. The carabaos
are not at all safe as regards white people, however, for they can
smell and detect them at an immense distance; and they will
occasionally charge them ferociously, so that they are very
dangerous in the open country. I have heard some horrible stories of
carabaos killing and trampling on white men in out-of-the-way
places. They don’t gore, I suppose because their horns are so flat,
but they trample to death, which does just as well.
These great grey, lumbering animals are very picturesque, and
redeem many a Philippine scene from utter dulness as they go
shambling along, drawing the native two-wheeled cart, with its big
hood of brown matting filled with bundles of emerald-green sacate
grass. They can shamble at an amazing pace, and that is their usual
gait; but they can gallop, too, as quickly as a horse.
Besides the herds of carabaos, we saw several natives down in the
bed of the river, going out to certain spots where the shelve of the
sand was more abrupt for their supply of water. These were women,
of course, for women do all the household tasks, even the most
burdensome, their lords being busy standing about the roads or
Plazas, or attending a cock-fight.
These women had long bamboo poles, with the divisions knocked
out and the end closed up, which they laid in the running stream to
81. fill with water, when they hoisted the long poles to their shoulders
and carried them off like giants’ lances. The slender little figures
looked quaint and pretty as they came up over the yellow, sandy,
shallows in their bright red sarongs and white camisas, walking
lightly and gracefully, with their thin brown feet well turned out, the
fading light of the sky behind them, and the outline of dark, fretted
palms.
We walked through a little palm grove back to the place where we
had left the carriage, driving back along the main road as the stars
were coming out and the flaring naphtha lights appearing in the little
mat-shed shops. There were a great many people about, and
swarms of little children in fluttering muslin shirts, all enjoying the
cool evening air, which was, as a matter of fact, the same
temperature as an August mid-day at home. A lot of carriages and
traps flew past, the little ponies tearing like the wind, amongst them
the general’s wife in her victoria, drawn by ordinary Waler horses,
looking like prehistoric monsters amongst the little Filipino ponies;
and we met our pet aversion, three young Mestizo “mashers,”
driving at a furious pace in a spidery buggy with huge acetylene
lamps, and ringing a bicycle bell.
82. LETTER XI.
SOME RESULTS OF THE AMERICAN
OCCUPATION
Iloilo, January 22, 1905.
Mail-day has come round again, but I don’t feel as though I had
much energy for writing, or anything else, as we are in the midst of
a heat-wave, which means, in this part of the world, that the
Monsoon has dropped unaccountably, and the heat is suffocating
and appalling. Everyone is saying that such a temperature is quite
unusual at this season, and some even go so far as to say they
never felt it so hot here before; but this does not surprise me, as I
have never yet come in for normal weather anywhere.
This heat comes in the middle of a drought, too, as we have not
had rain for about four weeks—another phenomenon. Our rain-tank
is empty, so we now depend on the supply of brackish water from
the wells, and even that is reported to be limited, which is alarming,
as one would commit almost any crime to get enough water for a
bath. Even at times of plenty, however, one does not rejoice in the
European style of bath, but an arrangement of a tub, the
acquaintance of which I first made at Singapore, and I can’t say I
was much struck with it when I did see it.
The tub, of wood or china, is placed in a small room with a sloping
floor of concrete or tiles, and the bather stands on a wooden rack;
first using what soap he sees fit, and then pouring water over
himself as best he can with a tin dipper. It is an economical method
in countries where water is scarce and valuable; but it was a terrible
disillusion to me, after the grand ideas I had always formed, when I
read how every one in the Far East has his or her own bathroom.
Don’t you know how jolly it sounds in Anglo-Indian novels, or in
83. descriptions of the world beyond Port Saïd? A dreadful
disenchantment!
More than ever, in this heat, do we miss the dog-cart of our
dreams, for we long to get out of the town on these hot evenings.
Something to drive is a bare necessity of life out here, and even the
humblest school-teachers and missionaries keep what the Americans
call a “rig,” such a queer word, which is made to signify anything
from a four-in-hand to a carabao-cart. The Americans all drive in a
very strange fashion, holding a rein in each hand, which looks
awkward at any time; but is most comical in the case of the
swaggering negro who drives the military waggons, holding in a
team about as fiery as a couple of old circus-horses, with a rein
twisted round each of his hands, body thrown back, and the
gestures of a Greek restraining an untamed pair round a stadium.
The white man who drives the Government ice-cart amuses me
too, for he is got up in full cow-boy pageantry—huge boots, loose
shirt with broad leather belt, immense sombrero worn well over one
eye, long moustaches standing out, and great gauntlets up to his
elbows. All this to hawk ice about a dowdy little town.
When a soldier rides one of these quiet old animals, he sits in an
enormous Mexican saddle, with a very high peak back and front, and
his feet, clad in big boots with huge spurs, thrust into roomy leather
shoe-stirrups. To the casual observer these horsemen would
certainly convey the impression that they were venturing great
deeds in a wild country, and one can’t be anything but thankful to
them for throwing a little picturesque relief into the humdrum life of
the grey streets.
We have tried hiring carriages, but besides the terrible discomfort
of all hired vehicles, their prices are more uncomfortable still. Fancy,
in a place like this, having to pay as much for a little carriage for two
hours in the evening as one would for a brougham in London for the
day! Yet such is the case, and it is only an indication of the cost of
living here, which is really alarming; as you may imagine it must be
when I tell you that all the Americans I have met complain bitterly,
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