The Limits Of Syntactic Variation Theresa Biberauer
The Limits Of Syntactic Variation Theresa Biberauer
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7. Volume 132
The Limits of Syntactic Variation
Edited by Theresa Biberauer
General Editors
Werner Abraham
University of Vienna / Rijksuniversiteit
Groningen
Elly van Gelderen
Arizona State University
Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today (LA) provides a platform for original monograph
studies into synchronic and diachronic linguistics. Studies in LA confront empirical
and theoretical problems as these are currently discussed in syntax, semantics,
morphology, phonology, and systematic pragmatics with the aim to establish robust
empirical generalizations within a universalistic perspective.
Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today (LA)
Advisory Editorial Board
Cedric Boeckx
Harvard University
Guglielmo Cinque
University of Venice
Günther Grewendorf
J.W. Goethe-University, Frankfurt
Liliane Haegeman
University of Lille, France
Hubert Haider
University of Salzburg
Christer Platzack
University of Lund
Ian Roberts
Cambridge University
Lisa deMena Travis
McGill University
Sten Vikner
University of Aarhus
C. Jan-Wouter Zwart
University of Groningen
8. The Limits of Syntactic Variation
Edited by
Theresa Biberauer
University of Cambridge and Stellenbosch University
John Benjamins Publishing Company
Amsterdam/Philadelphia
10. Preface and Acknowledgements vii
Introduction 1
Part I. The locus of (parametric) variation
Parametric versus functional explanations of syntactic universals 75
Martin Haspelmath
Three fundamental issues in parametric linguistics 109
Chiara Gianollo, Cristina Guardiano Giuseppe Longobardi
On the syntactic flexibility of formal features 143
Hedde Zeijlstra
Expletives, datives, and the tension between morphology and syntax 175
Richard S. Kayne
Mapping a Parochial Lexicon onto a universal semantics 219
Gillian Ramchand Peter Svenonius
Aspect matters in the middle 247
Marika Lekakou
Part II. A classic parameter revisited: The null subject parameter
The null subject parameter and correlating properties:
The case of Creole languages 271
Marco Nicolis
The Case-F valuation parameter in Romance 295
Gerardo Fernández-Salgueiro
Silent arguments without pro: The case of Basque 311
Maia Duguine
Case morphology and radical pro-drop 331
Ad Neeleman Kriszta Szendrői
Table of contents
11. Part III. Parametric clustering
The macroparameter in a microparametric world 351
Mark C. Baker
Topic prominence and null subjects 375
Marcello Modesto
Non-configurationality: Free word order and argument drop in Turkish 411
Balkiz Öztürk
Diachronic stability and feature interpretability 441
E. Phoevos Panagiotidis
Part IV. The acquisition of parameters
Can children tell us anything we did not know about parameter clustering? 459
Larisa Avram Martine Coene
Parameter setting and input reduction 483
Arnold Evers Jacqueline van Kampen
Index 517
Table of contents
12. Preface and Acknowledgements
The contributions in this volume represent a selection of the papers that were
originally accepted for presentation at the conference on The Structure of Para-
metric Variation which was held at the University of Newcastle Upon Tyne in
September 2005 under the auspices of the Arts and Humanities Research Coun-
cil (AHRC)-funded project on “Null Subjects and the structure of parametric
variation” (AR14458). That conference also included three papers which could
unfortunately not be included in the present volume owing to prior publication
commitments. These are:
• David Adger – Variation without parameters;
• Sjef Barbiers – Word-order alternations in three-verb clusters as non-parametric
variation; and
• Geoff Horrocks Melita Stavrou – Parametric variation in the lexicalisation
of semantic properties: The role of grammatical aspect in shifting a verb’s basic
Aktionsart
My sincerest thanks to all the contributors for the focused, co-operative and ex-
tremely patient manner in which they approached the various stages of the publi
cation process. Grateful thanks also to the reviewers for their valuable input – in
alphabetical order: Karlos Arregi, Anders Holmberg, John A. Hawkins, Kasia
Jaszczolt, Chris Johns, Jaklin Kornfilt, Ian Roberts, Michelle Sheehan, Ianthi Tsimpli
and David Willis. And to Vicki Hart and Glenda Newton for their careful proof-
reading at different stages of the process. Additional thanks to Glenda for her
help with the Index. Further thanks to the Cambridge students who showed such
a lively interest in many of the papers in this volume, particularly – once again in
alphabetical order – Bob Davies, Luke Donnan, Emma Game, Nadine Hitchon,
Iain Mobbs and Neil Myler. And, last but not least, my thanks to Kees Vaes and
Martine van Marsbergen at Benjamins for their patience, support and guidance.
14. Introduction
1. Introduction
Martin Joos’s famous statement that “(l)anguages can differ from each other
without limit and in unpredictable ways” (Joos 1957: 96) is often misrepresented
as an assertion reflecting the thinking current during the first half of the 20th
century.1 In reality, even the American descriptivist Franz Boas, to whom this
view is ascribed, did not hold this view. “[I]n all the languages of the world, the
number of processes which are utilized to express the relations of terms is limited”,
Boas wrote in the introduction to the Handbook of American Indian Languages
(1911: 67). More generally, there is also no evidence that other American de-
scriptivists (Sapir, Bloomfield, etc.) held the extreme view expressed by Joos:
these linguists appear to have been far less committed to the notion of boundless
variation in human languages than to the belief that it was simply too early to
speculate about the possible limits on this variation, given how little was known
at the time about non-Indo-European languages. Thus Bloomfield (1933: 20), for
example, observes that:
[t]he fact that some features are … widespread is worthy of notice and calls for
explanation; when we have adequate data about many languages, we shall have to
return to the problem of general grammar and to explain these similarities and
divergences
and he also writes of:
[l]ooking forward to a larger synthesis, a General Grammar, which will register
similarities between languages (Bloomfield 1934: 46).2
In the 50 years since Joos’s statement, “general grammar” has, in one form or
another, been very much at the forefront of linguistic research, with researchers in
various frameworks having become interested in language universals and also the
associated question of what limits human languages are subject to. Thus the work
. Cf. Thomas (2002) for extensive discussion of this misinterpretation.
. Cf. Roberts (2007b) for further discussion of the extent to which linguists of the late 19th
and early 20th centuries were interested in comparative issues of this sort.
15. The limits of syntactic variation
of Greenberg and Chomsky and their followers has always been guided by the
fundamental idea that the very striking and seemingly limitless superficial varia-
tion between languages in fact conceals “uniformities of universal scope” (Green-
berg, Osgood Jenkins 1961/1963: xv). Furthermore, while the manner in which
typologists and generativists have approached the search for these “uniformities”,
or “universals” as they are more commonly known, has been very different, there
is today agreement between those in the two camps that it is indeed the case that
the variation exhibited by the world’s languages is not random. In particular, there
is agreement that the syntactic variation across languages is neither “without limit”
nor “unpredictable”, and it is this aspect of linguistic variation that is the focus of
this volume.
2. The non-randomness of syntactic variation
Arguably the most oft-cited illustration of the non-arbitrariness of syntactic varia-
tion has its origins in Greenberg’s pioneering work on word-order universals (cf.
Greenberg 1963). This work brought to light the surprising fact that seemingly
unrelated word-order patternings tend to correlate3 – S(ubject)-O(bject)-V(erb),
postverbal auxiliaries and postpositions, for example; VSO, preverbal auxiliaries
and prepositions; and so on. Crucially, it also introduced the idea that one might
want to think of language types defined in syntactic terms. Thus Greenberg himself
distinguished SVO, SOV and VSO languages and proposed that these might be
viewed as the “basic word-order types”, with a language’s “type” determining
the patterning of various pairs of elements, e.g., V-Auxiliary and N-Adposition
order, as noted above, and also Adjective-Noun, Genitive-Noun, and so on. Sub-
sequent work, notably that by Lehmann (1973); Venneman (1974) and Hawkins
(1983), refined not only Greenberg’s word-order typology, but also the notion
of “harmony” that emerged from it. Thus the well-known generalizations in (1)
became established, along with the idea that so-called “harmonic” languages,
which conform to these correlations, could be distinguished from so-called
“disharmonic” languages, which do not:
(1) VO: Aux-V, Prepositions, Noun-Adjective, Noun-Genitive, Noun-Relative
OV: V-Aux, Postpositions, Adjective-Noun, Genitive-Noun, Relative-Noun
. In itself, this was not an entirely new observation: as Greenberg (1963: 104, note 4) himself
observes, researchers such as Lepsius (1880) and in particular Schmidt (1926) had previously
drawn attention to a subset of the word-order correlations identified by Greenberg.
16. Introduction
Later work, i.a. by Tomlin (1986); Dryer (1992) and by the contributors to the
World Atlas of Language Structures (WALS, cf. Haspelmath et al. 2005), has served
to reveal the extent to which the Greenbergian language types are in fact instanti-
ated in the world’s languages. Certain correlations are shown to constitute very
strong correlations, the OV/VO and adposition one being a case in point, as (2)
below shows:
(2)
Correlation between OV/VO ordering and adpositional structure in the
892 languages surveyed in WALS (cf. Baker, this volume)
OV Postposition 427 (47.87%)
VO Preposition 417 (46.75%)
OV Prepostion 10 (1.12%)
VO Postposition 38 (4.26%)
Thus 94.5% of the languages surveyed in the WALS are “harmonic” in respect
of their OV/VO and adposition structure. As Dryer (1992, note 17) notes,
however:
The general conclusion is that completely consistent [i.e., harmonic – TB]
types represent a minority, but that the majority of inconsistencies among
inconsistent languages can be attributed to a small number of pairs of elements
for which there is a skewed distribution, such as the general preferences for NRel
(ative) order.
Viewed across the board, then, it is not realistic to think about the Greenber-
gian word-order-based types in absolute terms – they do not entail absolute
universals, but rather statistical universals or universal tendencies (cf. i.a. Green-
berg 1963; Hawkins 1983).Worth noting, however, is Dryer’s observation that
the limited number of fully harmonic languages is largely due to the existence
of a fixed set of harmony-disrupting element-pairs which tend to surface in
only one of the two possible orderings relative to each other. What we are left
with, then, is the impression that, even though harmonic languages are in the
minority, there is a significant amount of non-randomness in the domain of
word order, non-randomness which even extends to the domain of exceptions
to the observed regularities. And the same also appears to be true in a range of
other syntactic and non-syntactic domains (cf. the Universals Archive at http://
typo.uni-konstanz.de/archive/intro/index.php for an inventory of the currently
more than 2000 typological universals recorded to date). The question, of course,
is why?
17. The limits of syntactic variation
3. Accounting for limits on syntactic variation
3.1 Two different approaches: Functionalism vs. formalism4
As Haspelmath (this volume) notes, typologists have tended to follow a function-
alist line in attempting to answer the question of why languages should display the
structural parallels that they do. More specifically, researchers working within the
typological framework generally appeal to communicative and/or processing con-
siderations in order to account for the structural skewings that have been observed
in the world’s languages (cf. also Hawkins 1988, 2004 and Newmeyer 1998, 2005a
for extensive discussion). Thus, for example, Hawkins (2004: 103) proposes that
the following parsing efficiency principle plays a central role in accounting for the
word-order correlations in (1) and (2):
(3) Minimize Domains (MiD)
The human processor prefers to minimize the connected sequences of linguistic
forms and their conventionally associated syntactic and semantic properties in
which relations of combination and/or dependency are processed. The degree
of this preference is proportional to the number of relations whose domains can
be minimized in competing sequences, and to the extent of the minimization
difference in each domain.
In terms of (3), then, the adjacency of V and P and P and N that is ensured in con-
sistently head-initial and consistently head-final languages (head-initial: [VP V [PP P
[NP N …]]] and head-final: [VP [PP [NP … N] P] V]]) minimizes the domain within
which the elements making up VP and PP (V and PP and P and NP respectively) will
be recognized. The fact that “disharmonic” patterns generally are not as common as
“harmonic” ones is thus ascribed to the added processing burden that they entail.
In contrast to typologists, generativists in general mostly seek to understand
crosslinguistic regularities and gaps by relating these to the influence of an in-
nately specified and formally oriented linguistic capacity, Universal Grammar
(UG), on which, more below. It is worth noting, however, that it is not the case that
. As Newmeyer (1998: 7–8) notes, formal is an unhelpfully ambiguous term, meaning both
“pertaining to grammatical form (as opposed to meaning and/or use)” and “stated in math-
ematically precise terms as in formalized”. Clearly, there are formal approaches to language that
are only formal in the former sense (cf. Saussurean structuralism), but these will not concern us
here. For the purposes of the present discussion, then, formal is to be understood as implying
both of the above meanings in the manner generally assumed by generativists. Worth noting in
connection with formal in the second sense is that it does not generally in syntactic theory mean
anything as strong as “axiomatised” or even “fully formalized”, as it does in, for example, logic,
computational work or formal semantics.
18. Introduction
generativists uniformly reject the possibility that functional and, particularly, pro-
cessing considerations may determine the distribution of syntactic patterns, al-
though this has undoubtedly been the most common trend to date (see below). Thus,
for example, Ackema Neeleman (2002) argue that the very striking asymmetry
between leftward and rightward movement observed in the world’s languages – in
terms of which leftward movement is vastly more common than rightward move-
ment and additionally appears to be unbounded in a way that rightward movement
is not – can in fact best be understood in parsing terms.5 More specifically, they,
like non-generativist psycholinguists (cf. i.a. Just Carpenter 1992; Gibson 1998),
propose that processing of syntactic representations involves a left-to-right parsing
procedure which involves both processing and storage: since it is presumably more
economical to assign already-parsed structure to short-term memory as soon as this
becomes possible rather than to wait until the entire structure has been parsed, it is
assumed that already-parsed structure is “closed off” at appropriate points during
the parsing process. This, then, renders its internal structure “invisible” to the parser.
If, as is usually thought, the parser employs a filler-driven strategy in dealing with
movement dependencies (cf. Clifton Frazier 1989; Frazier Flores D’Arcais 1989),
it will only postulate a trace after it has encountered a moved element. Clearly, this
is always the case when we are dealing with leftward movement (cf. (4a)), but the
opposite is true wherever rightward movement has taken place (cf. (4b)):
(4) a. wh-element/topicalized dp, etc. ….. twh-element/tDP, etc.
b. twh-element/tDP, etc ……… wh-element/topicalized dp, etc.
As (4b) illustrates, rightward movement is problematic within filler-driven, interim
storage-oriented approaches to parsing in that it requires post hoc trace insertion
in a partially analysed string: left-to-right parsing must be suspended so that a
trace can be inserted at an appropriate place in an already-parsed piece of struc-
ture located to the left of the point the parser had reached. If it is indeed the case
that such structure has been “closed off” and therefore lacks internal structure, we
might expect this kind of trace-insertion to be impossible or at least costly.
And the same mode of explanation is available to account for the locality restric-
tions on rightward movement. As Ross (1967) first observed, this is always clause-
bounded (cf. the so-called Right Roof Constraint). On the natural assumption that
distinct clauses constitute distinct parsing domains, we would expect it to be
. Other well-known examples of generativists appealing to parsing to account for formal
patterns include: Bever Langendoen (1971) in their work on the factors determining the
availability of relative pronoun omission in English, Fodor (1978, 1984) in her work on nested
dependencies, Berwick Weinberg (1984) in their work on Subjacency, and the work of Janet
Dean Fodor Lyn Frazier more generally.
19. The limits of syntactic variation
impossible for rightward movement to be unbounded in the manner that leftward
movement appears to be. This is because unbounded leftward movement is unprob-
lematic if long-distance movement is indeed, as has generally been assumed since
Chomsky (1973), successive-cyclic: if elements move leftward successive-cyclically,
each clause will be headed by a trace, facilitating easy tracking of the filler-gap depen-
dency,evenwhereearlierclauseshavealreadybeen“closedoff”–thetraceatthestart
of every parsing domain alerts the parser to the fact that its search is not yet complete.
As far as the parser is concerned, then, filler-gap dependencies can be established in
the usual local manner wherever movement is successive-cyclic and leftward. The
same is not, however, true for rightward movement beyond the clause to which the
moved element belongs. Even if this movement is successive-cyclic, it will still entail
the requirement that previously “closed off” material needs to be “reopened”. This
is because traces in clauses preceding that to which the element has moved cannot
be postulated until the parser has encountered the gap located at the rightmost edge
of the final clause. Long-distance rightward movement therefore entails multiple
“reopenings” of the type required in monoclausal rightward-movement structures.
Ackema Neeleman (2002) explicitly indicate why a purely formal account of these
phenomena – for example, one appealing to Kayne’s (1994) Antisymmetry proposal,
in terms of which all movement is necessarily leftwards because of structural con-
straints (specifiers all being left-adjoined, with the result that upward movement
can only be to the left) – fares less well than a parsing-oriented approach (cf. also
Abels Neeleman 2007). The details of this argument fall beyond the scope of
this introduction; the point here is simply that it is not always the case that formal-
ists exclusively seek to understand syntactic distributions and the factors deter-
mining them in purely formal terms. And, more generally, there is, as Newmeyer
(1998: 21) rightly notes, “nothing in the generative program that demands that all
typological facts be attributed to the setting of innately specified parameters” (cf. also
Newmeyer 1998, chapter 3). Furthermore, there is also nothing in the generative re-
search programme that excludes the possibility that innately prespecified principles
may ultimately be functionally grounded (cf. Müller 2007a, numerous contribu-
tions in Good (2008), in particular, Kiparsky 2008, who proposes criteria designed
to distinguish UG-based universals from those which have historical – and thus
potentially ultimately functional – explanations, and Mobbs 2008, who suggests a
“third factor” reinterpretation of Hawkins’s performance principles6). We return to
these matters below.
. Kiparsky (ibid.3) explicitly refers to functional principles which “might have become
biologized within UG itself”. Cf. Section 3.4 for discussion of “third factor” considerations
within current Chomskyan theory which may also include functional considerations.
20. Introduction
First, however, let us consider the UG-based approach and, in particular, that
which generativists have espoused since the introduction of the Principles and
Parameters model in the late 1970s/early 1980s.
3.2 Introducing the Principles and Parameters Framework
Universal Grammar (UG) is the innately specified mental endowment which is
assumed to be uniquely shared by all humans. In terms of the current general
model of UG, the Principles and Parameters (PP) model first outlined in Chom-
sky’s 1979 Pisa Lectures (published in revised form as Chomsky 1981), UG con-
sists of invariant principles and unset parameters whose values must be set on the
basis of the linguistic input available to language-acquiring children (the primary
linguistic data or PLD) – cf. (5):
(5) UG (principles unset parameters) + PLD → Adult grammar
S0 Ss
(the initial state) (the steady state)
Together, the immutable principles and the initially unset parameters (i.e., S0
in (5)) are taken to determine the form of a possible human grammar (i.e., Ss
in (5)), where “grammar” is understood as the abstract mental system, including
specific parametric settings, – the I-language in Chomsky’s terms (cf. Chomsky
1986 et seq.) – on the basis of which actual utterances are produced. For Chom-
skyans, then, UG plays a role not only in language acquisition, but also in
defining the notion “possible language”, both synchronically and diachronically.
And, crucially, the limits it is assumed to impose on “possible languages” and, in
particular, the syntactic variation that they may exhibit, are conceived of in formal
terms.
In PP’s first incarnation during the Government and Binding (GB) period,
a range of principles and parameters were proposed, with the X-bar schema, the
Theta Criterion, the Extended Projection Principle (EPP) and Subjacency/Rela-
tivised Minimality numbering among the most frequently cited principles and the
Head Parameter (HP) and the Null Subject Parameter (NSP) undoubtedly being
the most well-known parameters. In terms of the former, there are universal con-
straints on the way languages construct phrases, the way in which thematic roles
like Agent, Patient and Goal are assigned, the positioning of subjects, and the dis-
tance over which elements can undergo movement: no languages should violate
these principles, with the result that no variation in these domains is expected
(but see below). Parameters, on the other hand, do permit variation, although it is
variation of a highly restricted kind. Consider, by way of illustration, the HP and
the NSP in (6–7).
21. The limits of syntactic variation
(6) Head Parameter (cf. Travis 1984)
Heads X precede/follow their complements
X'
a. b.
X Comp
→ -
X'
X
Comp
→ -
(7) Null Subject Parameter (cf. Rizzi 1982, 1986)
Subjects can be pro, where pro is a [+pronominal, -anaphoric] entity which is
licensed by X0
y where X0
y is a subset of the heads in a given language. The gram-
matical specification of pro is recovered from the features of the licensing head.
e.g.
I'
...
I
[+pronominal]
→ I licenses pro
Spec
pro
IP
a. b.
I'
...
I
[–pronominal]
→ I does not license pro
Spec
overt pronoun
IP
As shown above, both the HP and the NSP define an innately specified choice-
point, the HP in respect of head-complement directionality and the NSP in respect
of the availability of pronominal null subjects. Just like principles, then, parameters
impose universal restrictions – they determine the set of structural choices avail-
able to languages in various domains, thereby ensuring that all languages make
choices about the same set of choice-points. Because languages do not make the
same choices in each case, variation results. Thus the PP approach opens up the
possibility of having a model of grammar which entails a finite and potentially
relatively simple UG, but which nevertheless leads us to expect what might on the
surface seem like considerable crosslinguistic variation – consider the striking dif-
ferences between languages that opt for different settings of the HP, for example.
That is, the PP approach, unlike those that went before it, facilitates a resolution
of the tension between the search for both descriptive and explanatory adequacy,
being able to account not only for the (apparent) diversity of syntactic structures,
but also for how these could have been successfully acquired given the constraints
under which language acquisition takes place (cf. Chomsky 2004b for overview
discussion, and also Section 7 below).
In accordance with the schema in (5), the values assigned to the various
parametric choice-points are assumed to be determined on the basis of specific
22. Introduction
PLD, signalling the appropriate setting. With the HP, at least in the case of the
consistently head-initial/head-final languages (i.e., the ones exhibiting harmonic
order in respect of V and its complement, Aux and V(P), Adpositions and their
complements, Nouns and their complements, so on7), it is not hard to see
what would be an appropriate cue (cf. Lightfoot 1999 and Dresher 1999, 2003 for
discussion of the notion “cue”): any head + complement-containing XP will
provide the necessary cue. Thus, for example, any one of the following Japanese
structures would enable the learner to set the HP to head-final:
(8) a. Sensei-wa [Taro-o] sikata
teacher-top Taro-acc scolded
‘The teacher scolded Taro.’
→ Objects precedes V
b. [Nihon] kara
Japan from
‘from Japan’
→ Complement precedes adposition
c. John-ga [Mary- to renaisite] iru
John-nom Mary-within.love is
‘John is in love with Mary.’
→ V precedes Auxiliary
d. [John-ga Mary-o nikundeiro] to
John-nom Mary-acc be-hating that
‘that John hated Mary’
→ Clause precedes Complementizer8
As noted above, however, fully harmonic languages represent the minority
of the world’s languages and many languages, including very well studied ones
like German, exhibit mixed headedness, with certain phrases seeming to be
. It is worth noting that the HP does not, as is often thought, determine the relative ordering
of Noun-Adjective as adjectives are not nominal complements. Similarly, the HP has nothing
to say about those Noun-Genitive and Noun-Relative pairings which do not involve a comple-
mentation relation. The fact that, for example, English exhibits Adjective-Noun rather than the
Noun-Adjective order expected in a harmonic head-initial language (cf. (1) above) does not,
therefore, reflect a shortcoming of the HP.
. If, as Lightfoot (1989, 1991) has suggested, learners do indeed only pay attention to matrix
clauses at the stage at which parameter setting is underway, (8d) may play no role in the setting
process. As it is only necessary for the child to establish the directionality of a single XP (say, the
VP) in order to set the HP, this does not, however, have to pose particular problems. The same
is obviously not true for “mixed” languages, though (see main text).
23. The limits of syntactic variation
consistently head-initial (e.g., CP and DP in German), while others appear to be
consistently head-final (VP and TP in German). This is illustrated in (9):
(9) a. … daß er das Buch von Chomsky unter dem Tisch gefunden hat
that he the book from Chomsky under the table found has
‘… that he found the book by Chomsky under the table’
b.
[CP daß [TP eri [VP ti [DP das Buch von Chomsky] [PP unter dem Tisch]
gefunden] hat]]
i.e., C, D, N and P precede their complements; V and T follow them.
There also appear to be quite a few languages which exhibit head-directionality of
one kind in the clausal domain and the opposite in nominals (cf. Thai, Khmer and
Burmese as discussed in Simpson 2005, Bangla as discussed in Bhattacharya 1999,
Marathi as discussed in Nayudu 2008, and Gungbe as discussed in Aboh 2004,
etc.). This is shown for Gungbe in (10):
(10) dàwé l� x� kὲkέ
man det bought.perf bicycle
‘The man bought a bicycle.’ (from Aboh 2004: 32)
Worse still, there are further cases where individual lexical items appear to
determine the headedness of the phrases in which they surface. Thus German
adpositions are generally head-initial (cf. von and unter in (9)), but there are a few
exceptions like zufolge (“according to”) and halber (“for the sake of, because of”) and
the “shadow prepositions” (cf. Noonan 2003) herauf (“up”) and drin (“in”) which
only surface finally. The “mixed” complementiser class in languages like Bengali,
Marathi and Assamese, in which certain complementisers are head-initial while
others are head-final, represents another problematic case (cf. Bayer 1999, 2001).
Furthermore, there are lexical items like German entlang (“along(side)/beside”)
and Afrikaans in (“in”/“into”) which occur both initially and finally, but where
positioning determines other morphosyntactic and/or semantic properties – in the
case of entlang, which case its complement takes (genitive where entlang is initial
and accusative where it is final) and in the case of in, precisely how it is interpreted
(as locative “in” when it is initial and as directional “into” when it is final).9 The
examples in (11–12) illustrate:
(11) a. Sie ist entlang des Flusses gefahren [German]
she is along the-gen river driven
‘She drove along the river.’
. We leave aside here the potential further complication represented by so-called circumposi-
tions (cf. Dutch naar … toe – “to … to”) which, superficially at least, appear to consist of nested
adpositional phrases, with a head-initial phrase embedded under a (superficially) head-final one
(cf. i.a. van Riemsdijk 1978, 1990; Koopman 1997; Zeller 2001; and den Dikken forthcoming).
24. Introduction
b. Sie ist den Fluss entlang gefahren
she is the-acc river along driven
‘She drove along the river.’
(12) a. Hy loop in die bos [Afrikaans]
he walk in the forest
‘He is walking in the forest.’
b. Hy loop die bos in
he walk the forest in
‘He is walking into the forest.’
In at least some cases, then, head-directionality appears to play a lexical disam-
biguation role.10
Finally, there are elements like the prepositional complement-taking adjective
stolz (“proud”) in German and its counterpart in Dutch (trots) and adpositions
like ilman (“without”) and kohti (“towards”) in Finnish which can surface either
before or after their complements without either morphological or semantic con-
sequences. Consider (13–14) in this connection:
(13) a. Die Frau ist stolz auf sich [German]
the woman is proud of self
‘The woman is proud of herself.’
b. Die Frau ist auf sich stolz
the woman is of self proud
‘The woman is proud of herself.’
(14) a. kohti Stalinin kuvaa [Finnish]
towards Stalin-gen picture
‘towards a picture of Stalin’
b. Stalinin kuvaa kohti
Stalin-gen picture towards
‘towards a picture of Stalin’
. If it is indeed correct to think of lexically-specified head-directionality, one might want
to appeal to Elsewhere considerations (cf. Kiparsky 1973) in accounting for the word-order
properties of structures containing these elements. More specifically, it could conceivably be
the case that the HP is appropriately set for a specific set of syntactic categories, but that lexical
items associated with independent (i.e., irregular) linearisation instructions are linearised in
accordance with their more specific specification. If this approach is extended to cases permit-
ting both linearisation options (e.g., the German and Dutch adjectives and Finnish adpositions
mentioned in the main text), we would need to postulate two distinct lexical entries which are
phonologically and semantically identical, but which differ in terms of their linearisation in-
structions (cf. Adger 2006 for an optionality proposal along these lines).
25. The limits of syntactic variation
Taken together, these facts raise serious questions about how children success-
fully identify the appropriate cues to set the HP (cf. Dresher 1999, 2003; Fodor
1998a, 1998b, 2001; Fodor Sakas 2005; Sakas Fodor 2001, and Lightfoot
1999 for recent discussion of the general problem of cue identification, and also
the contributions by Gianollo, Guardiano Longobardi (henceforth: GGL),
Zeijlstra, Avram Coene and Evers van Kampen in this volume). And they also
suggest that the HP may be a rather different type of parameter to the NSP, which
is usually (though see Sections 3.4 and 5 below) thought to involve a binary choice
which is made once and for all for the language as a whole. Specifically, one might
view the HP as a parameter which can operate in a more or less “myopic” fashion
as outlined below:
a. “blindly”, being set once for all categories, thereby delivering harmonic
languages;
b. category-sensitively, being consistently set in one way for a fixed set of
syntactic categories and another way for another fixed set; or
c. lexical item-sensitively, being set individually for specific lexical items
(although see note 10).
Despite this fact, the general assumption about the HP during the GB era was that
it was, universally, a parameter specifically associated with the phrase-structure
(X-bar) module of the grammar.
Turning to the NSP: this parameter clearly involves two components, namely
(a) that a null-subject language (henceforth: NSL) include in its pronoun inventory
the phonologically null, lexically unspecified pronoun pro and (b) that it include
in its inventory of functional categories subject-related ones (e.g., I in the clausal
domain and/or D in the nominal domain) which are capable of assigning pro the
appropriate φ-features (here: person and number). Non-NSLs, by contrast, lack
one or both of these properties. Traditionally, the assumption was that the NSP
was set to its positive value – in terms of which children postulate the availability
of pro and the appropriate licensing head(s) – on the basis of PLD such as (15)
featuring unrealised referential pronominal subjects as in (15a) and unrealised
expletive pronominal subjects as in (15b) and (15c):
(15) a. Habl- a español [Spanish]
speak-3sg Spanish
‘(S)he speaks Spanish.’
b. Piove [Italian]
rain-3sg
‘It is raining.’
26. Introduction
c. Sono venute delle ragazze [Italian]
be-3pl come-f.pl some girls
‘There came some girls.’
Just as was the case with the HP, the NSP was assumed to determine the (un)avail-
ability of a range of structures not limited to those which, like those in (15), were
generally assumed to constitute the actual cue required to trigger the appropriate
setting of the parameter. Thus the NSP sanctioned not only null-subject structures
such as those in (15), but also structures like the following:
(16) a. Ha telefonato Gianni [Italian]
have-3sg telephoned Gianni
‘Gianni has called.’
b. Pjos ipes oti egrapse afto to vivlio? [Greek]
who said-2sg that wrote this the book
‘Who did you say wrote this book?’
(16a) represents a so-called Free Inversion structure, in which the overt subject
follows the lexical verb rather than occupying the canonical subject position,
Spec-IP. (16b), in turn, illustrates the absence of so-called that-trace effects in
NSLs: unlike in non-NSLs like English, wh-subjects can be extracted across overtly
realised complementisers without resulting in an ungrammatical structure (con-
trast the English counterpart of (16b), *Who did you say that wrote this book?).
Neither of the structures in (16) at first sight seems to relate to the availability of
null subjects, but Rizzi’s (1982, 1986) characterization of the NSP links all of these
phenomena and additionally also the fact that Romance NSLs exhibit “rich” agree-
ment morphology. The reasoning is as follows: the availability of pro facilitates the
existence of null-subject structures such as those in (15), with the “rich” agreement
morphology here and elsewhere reflecting the fact that the language has the kind
of I required to supply pro with the φ-features it intrinsically lacks. The availability
of pro also enables a subject to occur in inverted position as in (16a) since pro is
available to satisfy the Extended Projection Principle (EPP), i.e., the requirement
that every clause contain a subject located in Spec-IP (cf. Chomsky 1981, 1982).
Finally, pro also facilitates the circumvention of that-trace violations, as in (16b),
by allowing wh-subjects to be extracted from a lower position, while pro itself once
again satisfies the EPP.
Clearly, then, the NSP as formulated by Rizzi leads us to expect superfi-
cially unrelated phenomena to cluster together.11 And if it is indeed correctly
. Cf. Roberts (2007c) for discussion of three further phenomena that have been proposed to
be connected to the NSP: clitic climbing, infinitive-clitic ordering and realisation of an arbitrary
subject as a clitic.
27. The limits of syntactic variation
formulated, we would expect it to impose a universal limit on the types of struc-
tures available both in NSLs and in non-NSLs: the former would all be expected to
exhibit all of the structures facilitated by pro and a suitable I, while the latter would
all be expected to systematically lack these structures. Looking beyond the NSP,
this was also the expectation for GB parameters more generally since parameters
with a rich deductive structure simultaneously facilitate an account of systematic
syntactic correspondences across languages and an account of how it might be
possible for children to acquire these systematic correspondences with relative
ease. If we consider the NSP, for example, it is arguably the case that unrealised
pronominal subjects like those in (15) represent a salient and easily detectable
component of the PLD. By contrast, that-trace circumvention structures such as
those in (16b) are likely to feature far less frequently in the input and, superficially
at least, these structures seem a great deal more complex than unrealised subject-
containing ones like those in (15).
Even more striking in this connection is the scenario faced by children
acquiring non-NSLs: in this case, the input does not contain any positive evidence
that that-trace structures are unavailable, with the result that one would expect
that children would have to be explicitly told that subject wh-extraction is not
possible in the presence of an overt complementiser, unlike extraction of other
wh-elements. Such direct negative evidence is, however, not usually thought to
play a significant role in first language acquisition (cf. i.a. Bowerman 1988; Marcus
1993) and, in the case at hand, it is furthermore not at all clear that adult native-
speakers are actually consciously aware of the existence of this structural gap – it
is certainly not one that is noted in prescriptive grammars or explicitly taught in
English grammar classes.
In both the NSL and the non-NSL case, then, a question arises as to how native
speakers are able to acquire structures that are infrequent or even unattested in the
input. If we can, however, assume in the NSL case that unrealised pronominal sub-
jects alert children to the other NSP-related properties, the salience and frequency
discrepancies noted above need not pose an insurmountable obstacle. Similarly, if
we can assume that the obligatoriness of overtly realised subjects (and particularly,
overt expletives) serves the same function for children acquiring a non-NSL, we can
understand the successful acquisition of that-trace phenomena as the consequence
of the fact that the unavailability of wh-subject extraction is simply part of the cluster
of NSP-related properties associated with the negative setting of this parameter.
More generally, if innately specified parameters do indeed determine the way
in which certain types of syntactic phenomena cluster, we would expect, firstly,
that the world’s languages (past, present and future) will exhibit certain clusters of
properties and not others and, secondly, that language acquisition will proceed in
a way which reflects the (incremental) acquisition of relevant parametric settings
28. Introduction
and that will therefore never feature stages at which children correctly use some of
the structures associated with a given parameter, but also others that are associated
with the opposite setting of that same parameter. That is, parameters as they are
conceived of in the PP framework aim to contribute to an explanation not only
of the limits of syntactic variation, but also of the limits on language acquisition
and, by extension, language change.
3.3 Problems with GB principles and parameters
As is now well known, many of the principles and parameters proposed during the
first phase of the PP era did not ultimately prove either descriptively or explana-
torily adequate.
Consider, for example, the fact, already noted above, that, while the HP
facilitates an elegant account of languages exhibiting “harmonic” word orders, it
is evidently too simplistic to assume that head-directionality is universally fixed
once-and-for-all on the basis of the simple binary choice in (6): the empirical evi-
dence clearly points to a much more complex situation.
Similarly, the NSP as formulated above leads to various expectations: that
NSLs will be morphologically rich,12 that morphologically poor languages will not
be NSLs, that the properties governed by the NSP (cf. (15–16) above) will always
cluster together, and so on. As work as early as Gilligan (1987) has shown, however,
these predictions are not borne out: numerous morphologically rich languages are
not NSLs (e.g., Icelandic and Russian), there are various morphologically poor
languages that are NSLs (e.g., Chinese and Cheke Holo), and there are also other
respects in which the proposed correlations do not always hold (cf. Bantu lan-
guages exhibiting referential null subjects, but not Free Inversion and non-NSLs
like Icelandic exhibiting the no that-trace effect property of NSLs).
Some of these failed predictions have been ascribed to parameter interac-
tion, with the idea being that the non-occurrence of an expected parametric reflex
follows from the obscuring effects of the setting of another parameter which inter-
acts with the first. Thus, for example, the non-occurrence of referential null subjects
in inflectionally rich Icelandic is commonly ascribed to the positive setting of the
V2 Parameter in this language – that is, since the V2 Parameter always requires an
XP to occupy the preverbal position in main clauses, preverbal null subjects are
. It is worth being precise here: what is specifically expected is that NSLs will have rich
agreement (i.e., person/number) morphology; rich tense, mood or other verbal morphology
should not be relevant to the setting of the NSP, as the crucial consideration is that the richness
of the verbal agreement morphology should facilitate recovery of pro’s content (cf. Biberauer
Roberts, forthcoming).
29. The limits of syntactic variation
ruled out in these contexts and consequently the effects of the NSP are masked.
Clearly, though, this proposal only accounts for the absence of preverbal null sub-
jects; it tells us nothing about why referential null subjects are also unavailable else-
where and why expletive null subjects, but not their referential counterparts, may
surface in postverbal position. More recently, researchers have adopted a different tack,
opting instead to re-examine the morphological paradigms of languages which at first
sight appear to qualify as “morphologically rich” and proposing that languages like
Icelandic do, after all, systematically differ from NSLs (cf. Müller 2005, 2007b
Tamburelli 2006 for two recent proposals of this type). More generally, however,
the notion of “morphological richness” has proven very hard to quantify, not only
in the NSP context, but also more generally (cf. Jaeggli Safir 1989; Vikner 1997;
Rohrbacher 1999 for different, but ultimately unsuccessful proposals). Clearly, this
is a highly problematic state of affairs for a parameter whose setting was initially
thought to be at least partially cued by inflectional wealth.
Looking beyond the HP and the NSP, we see that other GB parameters also
encountered difficulties of various kinds. Thus, for example, in the V2 context,
the discovery that V2 languages are not all “well behaved” and that languages like
Icelandic and Yiddish systematically permit V2 in the presence of overtly realised
complementisers first raised the question whether one can in fact think of a unitary
V2 parameter (cf. Schwartz Vikner 1996 and Vikner 1995 for relevant discus-
sion). The rise since the late 1980s of so-called “cartographic” approaches to clause
structure, in terms of which functional structure is assumed to be a great deal more
articulated than initially thought, has only underscored this question (cf. Poletto
2000; Mohr 2005 and Roberts 2005 for illustrations of articulated CP analyses of V2
phenomena). Furthermore, independently of their precise formulation, this and
other head-movement-related parameters (e.g., the V-to-I Parameter, the N-to-D
Parameter, etc.) would also seem to face a further conceptual question, namely
whether they really meet the requirement that parameters should govern clusters
of empirical phenomena: head-movement parameters are not generally thought to
give rise to the sorts of superficially unrelated phenomena proposed for the NSP.13
. Viewed from a Germanic perspective, the V-to-I parameter could be argued to govern a
cluster of unrelated phenomena – consider, for example, Bobaljik Thráinsson’s (1998) Split-
INFL parameter, in terms of which languages exhibiting V-to-I also feature a split IP, full DP
Object Shift (OS), and Transitive Expletive Constructions (TECs). This (full) cluster does not,
however, seem to be more generally associated with languages which have been analysed as fea-
turing V-to-I movement, e.g., the Celtic languages, the Semitic languages, which at most permit
pronominal OS (cf. Shlonsky 1997, chapter 10), and the Romance languages, which also lack
non-pronominal OS and TECs of the Germanic type (cf. Cornilescu 2000 for a proposal that
Romanian features TECs). Strikingly, Avram and Coene, this volume, propose a very different
30. Introduction
Baker (this volume) dubs this the extent of variation question, and we return to
it in Sections 3.4 and 3.5 below. Related to it is the question that we have already
raised in connection with the HP, namely whether binary parameters can in fact
hope to account for the attested range of variation within a given domain. Since
this question in fact raises a number of important issues, let us consider it in a little
more detail on the basis of a previously undiscussed parameter.
Both during the GB era and beyond, it has frequently been proposed that the
presence vs. absence of wh-movement in a language is determined by the positive
vs. negative setting of a Wh-movement Parameter (cf. Fukui 1995; Cheng 1997
and Simpson 2000 for discussion). If this parameter simply offers a binary choice,
we would expect to find only two types of languages: wh-movement and wh-in-situ
languages, illustrated in (17):
(17) a. Whati did Steve eat ti?
b. Hufei chi- le shenme ne [Chinese]
Hufei eat-asp thing Qwh
‘What did Hufei eat?’
In actual fact, however, some languages have been shown to exhibit a mixture
of these properties, permitting both movement and in situ structures (cf. Cheng
1997). Crucially, closer investigation has revealed that some of the “mixed” lan-
guages do not in fact pose an empirical challenge to the postulation of a binary
Wh-movement Parameter. Some, like Egyptian Arabic, Irish, Malagasy and
Zulu, can, for example, be shown to involve very different underlying struc-
tures: a (pseudo-)cleft (i.e., a non-movement structure) in the (apparent) wh-
“movement” case and an in situ structure in the non-movement case. This is
illustrated in (18):
(18) a. U- bona ubani?14 [Zulu]
2sg- see who.1a
‘Who did you see?’
b. Ng- ubani o- m- bona-yo?
cop-who.1a rc.2sg-oc.1a- see -rs
‘Who is it that you see?’ (data from Sabel Zeller 2006)
cluster of Split-INFL-related effects to that proposed by Bobaljik Thráinsson. At the very least,
then, it does not seem that V-to-I can be viewed as correlating with a single cluster of effects.
. Sabel Zeller’s abbreviations are as follows: 1a = noun class 1a, i.e., that mostly reserved
for singular human entities; cop = copula; rc = relative concord/agreement; oc = object
clitic; rs = relative suffix.
31. The limits of syntactic variation
As (18) clearly shows, the usual SVO order is maintained in monoclausal wh-
interrogatives, with the wh-element surfacing in situ; it is only in the presence of a
cleft-marking copula that wh-elements may appear in a moved position, and then
it is clearly a relativised one, rather than the clause-initial Spec-CP position associ-
ated with wh-movement languages.
Similarly, wh-“movement” in Malay and Iraqi Arabic seems to be possible
only in focus structures and not in unmarked interrogatives, i.e., wh-movement,
where it occurs, takes place as a consequence of focus- rather than specifically wh-
driven movement (cf. Ouhalla 1996). From the perspective of the Wh-movement
Parameter, then, these languages are negatively specified for wh-movement and
the superficial “mix” of positioning possibilities can be explained despite the avail-
ability of only two mutually exclusive parametric options.
Importantly, however, there do appear to be systems within which a putative
Wh-movement Parameter could not be set once and for all. Duala, a Bantu language
spoken in Cameroon, is a case in point: it permits both wh-movement and wh-in situ
in matrix clauses, but necessarily requires wh-movement in embedded contexts (cf.
Sabel 1998 for detailed discussion). Languages of this sort clearly cannot be specified
as [+movement] as wh-elements are evidently not required to move (there is no (nec-
essary) interpretive difference between movement and non-movement structures).
Similarly,theycannotbespecifiedas[–movement]sincethereisacontext(embedded
clauses) where movement is systematically required. Here, then, the Wh-Parameter
does appear to face a genuine empirical challenge from optionality phenomena.
Furthermore, a simple binary parameter also will not be able to account for the op-
tionality exhibited by languages like Bangla, Basque, Imbabura Quechua and others
which permit so-called clausal pied-piping to alternate with wh-DP raising, once again
without necessary interpretive consequences (cf. Richards 2001 for overview discus-
sion); and the same is true of that found in Slavic and other languages which permit
Left Branch Condition/LBC-violating wh-extractions to alternate – often without
interpretive consequences – with their non-LBC-violating counterparts (contrast
English *Whose did he read book? [LBC violation] which is not available alongside
Whose book did he read?). Additionally, a simple binary Wh-movement Parameter
cannot explain why some languages (e.g., those belonging to the Slavic family) either
obligatorily or optionally front all the wh-words present in multiple wh-questions,
whereasothersmayonlyfrontoneofthem(cf.Bošković2002fordetaileddiscussion).
Like the “size”-related optionality mentioned above, these differences have the flavour
of “sub-parameters” associated with the Wh-movement Parameter initially proposed:
more precisely, they would seem to be choices which only come into play following
positive setting of the Wh-movement Parameter (cf. also Uriagereka 2007 for recent
discussion of parametric structure in terms of parameters which differ in their “deep-
ness”, delivering, in his words (p.1), “progressively deeper forms of variation”).
32. Introduction
From a parametric perspective, the notion that a parameter that was ini-
tially viewed as a unitary Yes/No choice-point in fact turns out to initiate or
be part of a sequenced network or hierarchy of related parameters need, of
course, not be problematic. We return to this matter in Section 3.3 below. For
the moment, it worth noting, however, that the more articulated view of pa-
rameters suggested by closer examination of the wh-data also brings with it
various complications which should not be overlooked. There is, for example,
the matter of how many (sub-)parameters we will ultimately need to postu-
late, i.e., how many innately specified choice-points UG will need to contain.
Related to this is the question of whether each choice-point must be associated
with its own cue (see Section 3.2 above and Section 7 below) and, if so, how one
can ensure that the cues are “noticed” in the correct sequence by the language
acquirer. Specific acquisitional concerns aside, there is also more generally a
clear sense in which an articulated Wh-movement parameter is at odds with
the original GB notion of parameters as innate entities whose setting “gives”
the acquirer a range of language-specific information – some of it “deep” in the
sense of not necessarily being superficially evident from the input – “for free”.
This is once again a matter to which we will return in Section 7. Here we simply
wish to highlight the fact that closer consideration of GB parameters like the
Wh-Parameter has led to the discovery that initially proposed parameters do
in some cases hold up under closer scrutiny, but that this is not always the case
and, furthermore, that it sometimes appears to be necessary to adopt a more
articulated view of the structure of a parameter.
To conclude, let us briefly consider the relation between GB principles and
parameters, and also the fate of principles proposed during the GB era. Whereas
principles and parameters are presently often thought of as distinct and sepa-
rate components of UG – cf. the Wh- or Head-movement parameters discussed
above, which are not typically viewed as choice-points (directly) connected to any
particular UG principle – the earliest conception of “parameter” entailed a close
connection between the two entities: parameters were necessarily “parameterised
principles” (cf. Newmeyer 2005a). Consider (19–20) in this connection:
(19) A parameterised principle in the phrase structure module:
a. Principle:
X’ → X; Complement (where; signifies an unordered pair)
b. Parameter: the Head Parameter (HP; cf. (6) above)
Heads X precede/follow their complements
(20) A parameterised principle in the bounding module:
a. Principle: Subjacency
In a structure α … [β … [γ … δ…] …] …, movement cannot apply if β and γ
both belong to the class of bounding nodes.
33. The limits of syntactic variation
b. Parameter: the class of bounding nodes = DP and/or TP and/or CP
(where bounding nodes in English = DP and TP, in Italian = DP and CP and
in Russian = DP, TP and CP)
As shown above, phrase structure and movement are both subject to inviolable
principles (a), but the precise manner in which these principles manifest in dif-
ferent languages is subject to specific points of parametric variation (b). As GB
parameters do not all appear to be so directly connected to principles, it seems
necessary to acknowledge that the parameters assumed during the GB era were
not of a single general type: at the very least, one needs to distinguish parameters
associated with principles (“parameterised principles”) from parameters whose
choice-points are less directly connected to specific principles, a state of affairs
which immediately raises questions about the relation between these two, the
“locus” of the latter, and so on. We return to these questions in Section 3.4.
The preceding discussion has shown that principles may be directly associated
with parametric choice-points. This need, of course, not be the case – consider, for
example, the Projection Principle and the Theta Criterion (cf. Section 3.2 above),
neither of which entails a (b)-component of the type illustrated in (19–20). Subja-
cency, too, was initially thought to be an invariant principle (cf. Chomsky 1973), but
Rizzi’s (1982) work revealed this assumption to be incorrect. Similarly, work on the
wide range of languages that Chomskyans have investigated since the early PP days
has shown that certain further properties initially ascribed universally invariant status
also cannot be regarded as such. Let us consider this matter on the basis of the Ex-
tended Projection Principle (EPP) in terms of which every clause must have a subject
located in Spec-IP (i.e., the canonical subject position; cf. Chomsky 1981, 1982).
As is well known, this principle facilitates a unified account of subject and ex-
pletive distribution in modern English, but necessitates sometimes quite complex
assumptions in the context of the many languages that do not exhibit the same
patterns of subject behaviour. Thus, for example, in languages which set the NSP
to its positive setting, two assumptions need to be made, namely (a) that these lan-
guages feature a particular type of I and (b) that they include in their lexical stock
an element, pro, which is able to satisfy the EPP-imposed requirement that Spec-IP
be projected and filled (henceforth: the EPP-requirement). In the absence of an EPP-
requirement, just the (a)-assumption would be sufficient, and numerous researchers
have in fact proposed that it may not be necessary to project and fill Spec-IP in
all NSLs (cf. Borer 1986; Barbosa 1995, to appear, Alexiadou Anagnostopoulou
1998 on so-called “I-subject” approaches to NSLs, and see also the discussion in
Section 5 below).15 In other NSLs, postulating pro and therefore also the projection
. The “I-subjects” approach necessarily has various consequences for Theta Theory, which
34. Introduction
of Spec-IP may nevertheless be justified (cf. Sheehan 2006 and Barbosa, to appear
for recent discussion and see Section 5 below for further discussion).
In the Germanic context too, there are a range of subject-related phenomena
which cast doubt on the universal operation of an EPP-requirement. Consider, for
example, the fact that subjects in Icelandic, German and Dutch may surface in a posi-
tion which is clearly lower than the V2-adjacent canonical subject position (Spec-IP).
The Icelandic examples in (21) illustrate (subjects in bold; Spec-IP underlined; % in-
dicates that the structure in question is ill-formed in the context in question):16
(21) a. Við settum allar bækurnar fyrir málstofuna í lestrarsalinn …
We put all books-the for seminar-the in reading-room-the
i. … en það hafa margar af þessum bókum verið lesnar áður
… but there have many of these books been read before
‘… but many of these books have been read before’
ii. %… en það hafa ___ verið lesnar margar af þessum bókum áður
… but there have been read many of these books before
b. Við settum færeyskar bækur fyrir málstofuna í lestrarsalinn …
We put Faroese books for seminar-the in reading-room-the
i. %… en það höfðu íslenskar bækur verið lesnar í fyrra
… but there had Icelandic books been read last year
ii. … en það höfðu ___ verið lesnar íslenskar bækur í fyrra
… but there had been read Icelandic books last year
‘… but Icelandic books had been read last year’
(from Jonas 1996: 63)
As shown above, it is not always necessary for Spec-IP to be filled: where a subject
constitutes new information, as in (21bii), it does not undergo raising; it is only
where the subject encodes old information, as in (21ai), that raising to Spec-TP
is required. Similar effects emerge in German and Dutch, where “low” and raised
(i.e., Spec-TP-occupying) subjects are also said to differ in respect of information-
structure-related properties (e.g., specificity; cf. Diesing 1992 and in particular
Rosengren2002).IfoneistomaintainthattheselanguageshaveanEPP-requirement,
it is necessary to postulate the presence of expletive pro in the case of the structures
we will not go into here, but see Baker (1996, 1997) and Alexiadou Anagnostopoulou (1998)
for discussion.
. Note that Icelandic is a symmetric V2 language, exhibiting V2 orders in matrix and em-
bedded contexts. Following Schwartz Vikner (1996) and many others, I assume that all V2
clauses are CPs in which the finite verb is located in C.
35. The limits of syntactic variation
featuring “low” subjects. Given the presence of an overt expletive in cases like
(21bii), it is, however, not obvious that this is a reasonable postulation, particularly
if LF considerations are borne in mind. Further, it is striking that raising vs. non-
raising of the subject is necessarily associated with specific interpretive effects, a
state of affairs which suggests an optional rather than an obligatory operation (cf.
Chomsky 2001: 34 on the so-called Fox-Reinhart intuition on optionality, and also
Biberauer Richards 2006; Biberauer 2004, 2006; Richards Biberauer 2005 for
detailed discussion of the status of the EPP in Germanic). In at least some Ger-
manic varieties, then, it is not so clear that the EPP as originally formulated holds.
Looking beyond languages that have traditionally been labelled subject-
prominent (cf. Li Thompson 1976), it is not so clear that the subject-centric EPP
accurately captures the grammatical focus of so-called topic-prominent languages
(cf. Modesto, this volume for overview discussion). More recently, it has also been
proposed that it may be productive to think of languages as being either D-prominent
or V-prominent (cf. Davies Dubinsky 2002), with the latter privileging a verbal
rather than a nominal category. On this view, it could then be the case that I –
or, following Pollock (1989) and others, the relevant I-related head in a more ar-
ticulated structure17 – always requires a specifier, but it need not be the case that
this specifier is always reserved for the subject or expletive. As with (the relevant
subset of) topic-prominent languages, the absence of expletives in V-prominent
languages could therefore be viewed as a consequence of the non-pivotal nature of
subject/nominal categories in these systems, rather than as an indication of their
semi-null-subject nature (cf. Section 5 below).
Finally, researchers working on a wide spectrum of languages ranging from
Germanic to Austronesian have also considered the possibility that what one might
think of as D- and V-prominent languages may in fact differ in respect of the “size”
of the category that undergoes raising to Spec-TP (cf. various contributions in
Carnie Guilfoyle 2000 and Carnie, Dooley Harley 2005, and also Richards
. It is worth noting that the genuinely universal status of the EPP becomes extremely difficult
to maintain in the context of so-called “cartographic” approaches to functional structure within
which I may be decomposed into several projections. What analyses couched in these terms
have tended to highlight is that languages in fact appear to have available to them a range of
IP-internal subject positions (cf. Bobaljik Jonas 1996; Cardinaletti 1997, 2004; in some cases,
subject positions that have been proposed may in fact be located in the lower CP-domain, but
we leave this matter aside here). If this is correct, the implication is that one cannot think of a
single, EPP-imposed, obligatorily filled subject position in these languages. To “save” the EPP,
one could potentially appeal to a “spreading” device of the kind mooted in Chomsky (2008) and
in terms of which the phase-head C “spreads” its EPP-feature to one and only one of the I-heads
in its domain. In pre-2008 Oh Phases terms, though, it is not clear how this would be achieved.
36. Introduction
Biberauer 2005 and Travis 2006). In terms of this type of approach, then, the idea is
that Spec-TP must be projected and filled, but that is not specifically filled exclusively
by a subject; even where a language is D-prominent, it may permit or even require
a larger category containing the subject to raise to Spec-TP. Biberauer (2004) argues
this to be the case in Afrikaans, where the subject standardly piedpipes its containing
vP to Spec-TP, thereby delivering Afrikaans’s characteristic SOVAux ordering, and
Biberauer Roberts (2005, 2008) make a similar case for earlier English. Among the
advantages of proposals of this sort is that they can account not just for unexpected
subject-related phenomena – e.g., the absence in certain structures of an overtly rea-
lised expletive where a language does not generally license expletive pro (expletive
pro is not expected to be present if Spec-TP is occupied by a larger category) – but
also for unrelated phenomena such as word order and word-order variation.
Given the above, then, it would seem that there are a range of empirical and
theoretical reasons why it is not feasible to maintain a universally instantiated priv-
ileged subject position. One could, of course, maintain the projection-of-Spec-IP
component of the EPP independently of its subject connection, but this represents
a departure from the principle as originally formulated.
What we have seen in this section, therefore, is that a number of prominently
cited GB principles and parameters do not appear to be empirically supported in
the manner originally predicted. As we will see below, this has led some researchers
to reject the usefulness of the parametric enterprise as a whole and to question the
extent to which it is in fact feasible to identify universally instantiated limits on
variation. In the following section, we will, however, consider an alternative per-
spective on this matter, one which was, in part, necessarily brought about by the
shift to the current phase of the PP enterprise, namely the Minimalist Program.
3.4 Principles and Parameters in the Minimalist Program
The Minimalist Program (MP) has its origins in the theoretical “stock take” that
Chomsky Lasnik initiated at the start of the 1990s, after roughly 10 years of work
within the PP model. Rather than rejecting GB and its predecessors and “starting
afresh”, as critics sometimes suggest, it aims to critically evaluate the significant body
of theoretical work produced previously and to subject it to the kind of Occam’s
Razor assessment that characterises the normal course of scientific research more
generally. Additionally, however, the MP, at least as pursued by researchers with
a “biolinguistic” commitment (cf. Chomsky 2005, 2007, 2008 for discussion and
references), also has at its core a new hypothesis, namely the Strong Minimalist Thesis
(SMT) given in (22):
(22) The Strong Minimalist Thesis (SMT)
Language is an optimal solution to legibility conditions (Chomsky 2000: 97)
37. The limits of syntactic variation
In terms of the SMT, the starting point for any MP model of the language faculty
is that its design is such that it satisfies the requirements that it clearly must
meet18 in respect of feeding linguistic information to and from the systems with
which it interfaces – the conceptual-intentional (“meaning”) system and the ar-
ticulatory-perceptual (“sound”) systems – in the most efficient manner possible.
The assumption is not that this hypothesis, which in effect postulates a maxi-
mally “well-designed” or “perfect” language faculty, is likely to be correct; instead,
Chomsky’s rationale is that research within the PP programme had, by the early
1990s, advanced to the point where enough was understood for a hypothesis like
the SMT to serve the kind of heuristic function that is likely to drive the UG
enterprise forward (cf. Chomsky 2005, 2007 for discussion). Instead of simply
continuing to add to the machinery already proposed in the haphazard way that
often becomes inevitable in the context of a widely adopted research enterprise,
the suggestion, then, was that the SMT should serve as a yardstick to determine
whether particular theoretical notions can and should be maintained or not: the
SMT requires that each theoretical assumption be subjected to the question of
whether a principled explanation can be found for it, with principled being un-
derstood as meaning “imposed by one or both interfaces” and/or “following from
general considerations of computational efficiency” (cf. Chomsky 2000, 2001,
2004a, 2004b, 2005, 2007, 2008).
A direct consequence of the adoption of the SMT is, of course, the need to
minimise the number of purely language-internal entities one postulates. On the
architectural front, this led to the elimination of syntax-internal levels (D- and S-
structure) and also, crucially for our purposes, of the modules associated with the
GB model of the grammar (the Phrase-Structure, Theta, Case, Bounding, Binding
and Control modules). As noted in Section 3.3, at least some GB parameters were
assumed to be associated with specific modules of the grammar. Thus the HP, for
example, was clearly a phrase-structure module-related parameter, while the Wh-
movement parameter was associated with the Bounding module. In the absence
of the modules with which they were associated, it is clear that these parameters
must be “located” elsewhere if they are to be retained within an MP grammar. In
principle, the simplified MP architecture, comprising just a Lexicon, the Com-
putational System (which “does” Narrow Syntax) and (possibly) two interface
components, PF and LF, allows for two general possibilities: either parameters are
located in the Lexicon or they are located at one of the interfaces.
The notion that parameters might in fact be associated with lexical items is a
long-standing one, first proposed during the GB era as the Lexical Parametrisation
. Chomsky (1995 et seq.) refers to these as “virtually conceptually necessary” requirements.
38. Introduction
Hypothesis (cf. Borer 1984; cf. also Manzini Wexler 1987 for further seminal
discussion). As noted by Baker (this volume: 253), the idea that much, if not all,
parametric variation is located in the Lexicon constitutes a core assumption in
minimalist theorising. Baker (ibid) labels it the Borer-Chomsky Conjecture (BCC)
and states it as follows:
(23) The Borer-Chomsky Conjecture (BCC)
All parameters of variation are attributable to differences in the features of
particular items (e.g., the functional heads) in the lexicon.
The appeal of the BCC is clear: if lexical items constitute the sole locus of para-
metric variation, acquiring these will, in effect, amount to acquiring the language
as a whole. In other words, on this view, “learning vocabulary” does not just entail
learning the idiosyncratic component of language (i.e., that traditionally associ-
ated with Saussurean arbitrariness) and, presumably at the same time, also what
the phonotactic and morphological properties of the language in question are (i.e.,
two types of system-defining knowledge); it also entails acquiring the parametric
profile of the language, fixing the unvalued parameters of S0 (cf. (5) above).
Reconsidering the parameters discussed above, it is clear that a number of
them are plausible candidates for reformulation in terms of the BCC. The NSP in
(7), for example, in effect specifies two lexical requirements, namely that a lan-
guage must have both a particular type of functional category (“richly” specified I)
and a particular type of pronominal (pro).
The HP in (6), by contrast, initially looks like a far less likely candidate, but
this parameter is also amenable to reformulation in lexical terms and numerous
researchers have in recent years done so, either explicitly or tacitly. Thus one might,
for example, assume Kayne’s (1994) Antisymmetry proposal in terms of which
phrase structure is exceptionlessly head-initial and propose that surface head-final
orderings are the consequence of leftward movement of complements. In practice,
what this entails is that the heads which surface head-finally bear a movement-
triggering feature (an EPP-feature in current minimalist parlance), whereas those
which surface initially do not. On this model, then, at least all the functional heads
in harmonic head-final languages, and possibly heads generally, are lexically speci-
fied as bearing movement-triggering EPP-features (precisely what determines the
“size” of the moved constituent – i.e., whether we see DP-movement or “massive
pied-piping” of the sort proposed in so-called roll-up analyses – seems to require
independent specification; cf. discussion below).19 By contrast, the (functional)
. Note that, in the context of a theory that assumes the distribution of EPP-features to con-
stitute a central point of crosslinguistic variation (cf. also GGL this volume), with functional
categories (and possibly lexical items) either bearing or not bearing this movement diacritic, the
39. The limits of syntactic variation
heads in harmonic head-initial languages systematically lack EPP-features (except
where these are optionally present in order to guarantee a non-neutral, move-
ment-derived structure20). In disharmonic languages like German and Gungbe,
in which phrases do not all exhibit the same head-directionality, the same system
would obtain, with the result that the Lexicon in the case of languages of this type
would contain both EPP-bearing (head-final) and EPP-lacking (head-initial)
heads. Finally, in languages in which linearisation appears to play a lexical disam-
biguation role (cf. the examples mentioned in Section 3.2), EPP-features would
only be associated with the specific lexical items exhibiting final ordering.21 This
last case suggests that not just functional categories, but individual lexical items may
bear independent linearisation properties. In the context of the BCC, this does not
sound problematic, but it is worth considering the implications of this possibility.
One very obvious implication is that it would seem to entail massive redun-
dancy in the context of all languages in which the HP is not operating “myopi-
cally” (i.e., lexical item-sensitively; cf. Section 3.3 above) – that is, in all languages
where head-directionality is more systematically determined on the basis of either
syntactic category membership (the German/Gungbe case) or in an across-the-
board fashion (the harmonic cases). In other words, ascribing head-directionality
specifications (via diacritics or otherwise) to each and every lexical item would
seem, in the vast majority of cases, to be complicating a system which could be
significantly simpler if this information were located elsewhere (cf. also Baker, this
volume, for the same argument). As such, this kind of proposal would not seem to
be in keeping with the SMT in (22).22
GB Extended Projection Principle (discussed in Section 3.3) emerges as a stipulation that would
require principled explanation: why would it be necessary for T (=I) in every language to bear an
EPP-feature, whereas all other functional categories either may or may not do so?
. Cf. Biberauer Richards (2006) on the difference between obligatory and optional EPP-
features and the interpretive effects they bring about, and Biberauer, Holmberg Roberts
(2007) for discussion of the necessary distinction between linearisation-ensuring features and
those responsible for A’- and possibly also A-movement.
. Precisely how this system would account for heads that may appear both initially and
finally is not clear. Possibly, the relevant lexical entries would be underspecified for linearization
information or perhaps one could, as suggested in note 10, follow Adger (2006) in proposing
that certain types of lexically-related optionality may in fact involve two distinct lexical items
with the same phonological and semantic characteristics, but different linearisation specifica-
tions. Given how strongly languages in general seem to resist this latter “homonymy” scenario,
however (cf. i.a. Kroch 1994), the latter may not be a plausible hypothesis.
. Worth noting, however, is an alternative perspective on this matter, in terms of which the
“redundancy” entailed by assigning an EPP-feature to all the categories in a given system in fact
40. Introduction
Anotherseriousproblem,alsodiscussedinBaker(thisvolume),withthenotion
that linearisation information is stored on a lexical-item-by-lexical-item basis is
that it leads us to expect “a relatively smooth continuum of languages” (Baker, this
volume: 360), in which there are many mixed (i.e., disharmonic) languages of dif-
ferent kinds and relatively few harmonic languages. In reality, however, the facts
seem to be rather different. Consider in this connection Greenberg’s original ob-
servations, the obvious skewing in favour of harmonic languages registered in (2)
above, and Dryer’s (1992, note 17) observation, which points to “disharmonies”
having predictable origins not only within languages, but also crosslinguistically.
Looking beyond the domain of the HP, Dryer (1998: 123–124) has observed that
empirical work strongly suggests that languages “tend to cluster together around a
certain type and that they become increasingly infrequent as we move away from
the core type”. As Baker (this volume) notes, facts of this kind raise serious ques-
tions about the currently quite generally accepted and largely unexamined idea
that parametric variation is necessarily lexically specified. Significantly, linearisa-
tion was precisely one of the domains that Fukui (1988) argued should fall outside
the domain of lexical parameterisation (cf. his Ordering Restriction Hypothesis).
Additionally, he also argued that parametric variation should be restricted to func-
tional categories, with lexical categories like N and V, for example, not playing any
role in parametric variation (cf. his Functional Parameterisation Hypothesis). This
latter idea is one that is currently widely held, with minimalists frequently inter-
preting the BCC as applying specifically to functional categories (FCs).23 As the
contributions by GGL and Kayne in particular highlight, however, it is not nec-
essary to adopt this approach and the presence versus absence of specific lexical
items may in fact also play a central role in determining the more general syntactic
options available to a given system. We return to this matter in Section 4 below.
emerges as highly economical. If we adopt the perspective of a simplicity-driven acquirer who
is trying to establish the directionality of the syntactic categories in their language (i.e., whether
they are associated with an EPP-feature or not), one could argue that the simplest systems are
those in which the acquirer simply postulates C[+EPP] or C[–EPP], i.e., the same EPP-specifica-
tion for all categories (C) in the system (see i.a. Clark Roberts 1993; Roberts Roussou 2003
and Roberts 2007a for discussion of simplicity-driven acquisition). This does, of course, raise
the complex question of “markedness” – specifically, whether “harmonic” systems should not
actually be easier to acquire than “disharmonic” ones – but we leave this matter aside here.
Thanks to Ian Roberts for discussion of this point
. Under the view that lexical categories like N and V do not constitute primitive entities, but
that “nominalisation” and “verbalisation” are in fact achieved via merger of acategorial roots
with functional categories like n and v (cf. Marantz 1997; Chomsky 2001: 9), it is arguably im-
possible for lexical categories to play a role in parametric variation independently of functional
categories (for a very different view on the noun/verb distinction, see Kayne 2008).
41. The limits of syntactic variation
For the moment, we conclude, firstly, that the BCC is a hypothesis which requires
more critical examination than that to which it has been subjected to date and,
secondly, that linearisation in particular may well not be the kind of parametric
property that is best located in the Lexicon.
Leaving aside the objections raised above, there is also the in recent years
oft-discussed question of whether linear ordering should play any role in Narrow
Syntax (NS), as it would presumably have to if it is already lexically specified. As
has been pointed out many times, the computational system does not appear to
be sensitive to linear ordering; only to hierarchical structure. As such, one might
expect that linear ordering – even if this is ultimately determined via Kayne’s
(1994) Linear Correspondence Axiom (LCA) – is only imposed at the stage at which
it is self-evidently required, namely at PF (cf. Chomsky 1995: 335, 340). We pursue
this matter below.
One aspect of linearisation that is, however, usually thought to lend itself
to lexical parameterisation is that which was previously encoded by the various
movement parameters – V-to-I movement, N-to-D movement, V2 and Wh-
movement, to name but a few. In each case, the relevant movement requirement
can be lexically encoded as a movement diacritic (EPP-feature, etc.), with lan-
guages lacking movement in the relevant domains correspondingly lacking this
diacritic.24 There is little doubt that the easy “translateability” of the movement pa-
rameters into BCC terms has played a significant role within minimalist research
in foregrounding the role of the Lexicon in determining parametric variation. It is,
however, worth noting that the matter may be significantly more complicated than
“recastings” of this kind might suggest. Consider, firstly, the fact that movement
parameters, if they are lexically encoded and implemented in the syntax, once
again introduce linear ordering into Narrow Syntax. Furthermore, if Chomsky
(2001: 37–38) and others are in fact correct in consigning (at least some) head-
but not phrasal movement to the PF component (i.e., to an interface), it is not
clear how the computational system can effectively “ignore” the movement dia-
critics that will ultimately result in head-movement effects, while satisfying those
which will ultimately deliver phrasal movement. It is, of course, conceivable that
head-movement triggers are invisible (i.e., uninterpretable) to the computational
system, while XP-triggers are not and that we are thus effectively dealing with
two different types of movement diacritic. Given that certain head-movements do
appear to take place in the syntax, however (cf. Lechner 2006 and Roberts 2006 on
LF effects associated with head-movement), it would seem that there also needs to
. Alternatively, one might, like Brody (1995), Bobaljik (2002), Landau (2006) and others,
think in terms of P-features which determine which copy of a chain is ultimately pronounced.
42. Introduction
be a Narrow Syntax-internally interpretable head-movement trigger – and, addi-
tionally, since syntactic relations always involve head-head relations (cf. Chomsky
2004a et seq.), some means of signalling when head- rather than XP-movement is
to take place (cf. Watanabe 2006 on “pied-piper” features). If some head-movement
is PF-movement, then, quite an extensive inventory of movement-triggers would
seem to be required. If it is not, there are still many currently unanswered questions
as to how the computational system is able to determine the “size” of the category
it is to move (cf. Biberauer Richards 2006; Biberauer Roberts 2006 and Watanabe
2006 for some recent discussion).
Let us now turn to the alternative potential loci for Minimalist parameters:
the interfaces. Since the possibility of LF parameters has not received much at-
tention to date, we will focus on the PF interface here (cf., however, Ramchand
Svenonius, this volume, for discussion of the role that LF may potentially play in
determining parametric variation).
As noted above, the PF interface would seem the most plausible locus for lineari-
sationgenerallyandthereforealsoforparametricallyvariantaspectsoflinearization.25
Chomsky himself has always held that “[t]here is no linear order in the N[umeration]
→ LF computation” (Chomsky 1995: 335; cf. also Chomsky 2001: 7) and that linear
ordering be imposed at PF, where the LCA may, but need not necessarily, determine
linear precedence. Actually formulating a plausible PF linearisation system, let alone
a credible PF version of the HP has, however, proven quite difficult.
As regards linearisation more generally, the problem is ensuring that the
structures sent to PF are in fact unambiguously linearisable. If one assumes that
the very restrictive (Spec-Head-Comp) phrase structure assumed by Kayne (1994)
is the only kind permitted in NS (i.e., that a very strict version of the X-bar tem-
plate is in fact encoded as a UG principle), the problem of course becomes trivial:
such structure is always linearisable via the LCA. On this view, phrase structure
is, however, strictly constrained precisely to ensure a linearisable output, with a
“simple PF” coming at the expense of a more complicated computation (including,
for example, unrealised heads and specifiers, and “extra” leftward movement
wherever head-final structures result – see discussion above and note 22).26 As
such, a Kaynian approach to linearisation must be regarded as a departure from
. For a minimalist analysis which proposes relocating the HP to Narrow Syntax, however,
see Saito Fukui’s (1998) Parameterised Merge proposal.
. As a result of the latter, particularly if leftward movements may be of the remnant variety
often assumed in Kaynian analyses, there is, of course, also one aspect of the PF “computation”
that is not simplified, namely the copy spellout process, i.e., determining which copy/copies to
spell out and which to suppress (cf. Corver Nunes 2007 for discussion).
43. The limits of syntactic variation
the SMT and alternatives should at least be investigated to determine whether a
strict LCA-based system in fact constitutes a genuine case where there is a “gap
between SMT and the true nature of FL [the Language Faculty – TB]” (Chomsky
2007: 3).
An obvious way to relax the Kaynian constraints on phrase structure is to
propose, as many researchers following Moro (2000) have done, that syntactic
structureneednotbelinearisableateverystageofthederivation,butthatstructures
must be linearisable at the stage at which they are sent to PF. Within proposals of
this kind, linearisation is therefore only partially a PF matter, with initially unlin-
earisable structures being “rescuable” via subsequent movement operations which
may – as in Moro’s Dynamic Antisymmetry approach – or may not be directly
aimed at neutralising troublesome “points of symmetry” (i.e., symmetrical and
thus unlinearisable structures). Languages may then differ as to the points of sym-
metry that are generated during the course of the computation27 and possibly also
as to when and how they are neutralised (cf. Hsieh Sybesma 2007 for a phase-
based implementation of DA and Takita 2007 for a proposed symmetry-breaking
parameter). Approaches of this type can, however, clearly be criticised for “look-
ahead”, i.e., NS operating in such a way that subsequent requirements – here, PF
legibility – can be met.28 We leave this and other matters aside here since our main
concern is to consider how feasible it in fact is to completely banish linearisation
information from NS.
AverydifferentapproachisthatofRichards(2004).Heproposesparameterising
the LCA such that PF systematically ignores one set of symmetric c-command
relations (cf. also Epstein et al. 1998), thereby capturing the effects of the HP in the
manner outlined for VP below: 29
(24) The Parameterised LCA (a PF HP)
a. VO = Ignore all O V
b. OV = Ignore all V O
. Points of symmetry may in principle be either head-head or XP-XP adjunction pairs.
. Additionally, it is worth noting that DA-based approaches once again necessitate the
postulation of a range of movement-triggering factors since movement in natural languages is
clearly not limited to the symmetry-breaking variety.
. Richards’s proposal takes as its point of departure the observation that the first two ele-
ments Merged in any structure will be heads, i.e., elements which necessarily symmetrically
c-command each other and which will therefore also necessarily be unlinearisable in LCA
terms without some additional instruction. The Parameterised LCA is intended to supply this
instruction and, simultaneously, to state a point of parametric variation. For a very different
solution to the head-head merger problem, see Kayne (2008).
44. Introduction
In terms of (24), then, head-initial languages consistently ignore PF linearisation
instructions (i.e., symmetric c-command structures) ordering complements before
heads (a), whereas head-final languages consistently ignore the opposite set of
linearisation instructions. This system does therefore remove HP-related linearisa-
tion information from NS, allowing the HP to be stated as an interface parameter.
As with the original HP, however, it is not so clear how an interface HP operates
in the context of disharmonic languages, i.e., those which do not set (24) so that it
applies across-the-board. One might propose that (24) is sensitive to syntactic-
category information and that lexically specified linearisation instructions can over-
ride its across-the-board application (cf. note 10), or possibly that the application
of (24) is determined on a phase-by-phase basis, with some languages opting for a
subset of phases which are linearised in accordance with (a), while the remainder
are linearised in accordance with (b). The implications of these possibilities remain
to be worked out in further detail, with linearisation patterns that systematically fail
to surface in the world’s languages (i.e., impossible linearisations) potentially rep-
resenting a crucial empirical testbed (cf. Biberauer, Holmberg Roberts 2007 for
discussion, and also Kural 2005 and Cinque 2005, 2008). For the moment, however,
what is worth noting about the HP and its potential MP reformulations is that an
exclusively lexically based approach would seem to entail considerable redundancy
for harmonic languages in particular, effectively making the most idiosyncratic of
the disharmonic exceptions seem the most “natural”, whereas a purely PF-oriented
approach seems best suited to the harmonic languages while raising questions
as to how the disharmonic orders are to be accounted for. If UG is to contain a
linearisation parameter, it clearly needs to be one which could in principle be set
so as to generate both the harmonic and the disharmonic word orders and it is not
presently clear either how this can be achieved or whether (a) suitable linearisation
parameter(s) will require a departure from the SMT.
We have already noted above that movement parameters would, at first
sight, seem trivially recodable as lexical parameters involving the presence versus
absence of movement diacritics. Another possibility is that these parameters may
in fact be located at PF. Bobaljik (2002) offers a proposal along these lines, sug-
gesting that the difference between overt and covert movement may in fact not lie
in whether an Agree operation between two elements is or is not associated with a
movement diacritic (presence of EPP-feature = overt movement; absence of EPP-
feature = covert movement), but in which copy of a moved element PF chooses to
spell out. In Bobaljik’s terms, then, overt movement entails spelling out the highest
copy of a moved element whereas covert movement falls out from spelling out the
lowest copy; movement therefore always takes place in NS, but this plays no role
in linearisation (cf. Brody 2000 for an in many ways similar approach focused on a
different empirical domain). This proposal is particularly appealing in the context
45. The limits of syntactic variation
of covert movements that were during the GB era assumed to take place in the der-
ivation from S-structure to LF (QR, wh-movement in wh-in situ languages, etc.).
If Bobaljik’s proposals are on the right track, it may therefore be the case that GB
parameters like the Wh-movement Parameter have both a lexical and an interface
component (cf. the oft-discussed correlations between (non-)movement and, inter
alia, the availability of what Cheng 1997 designates clause-typing particles and the
morphosyntactic structure of wh-elements).
To conclude on the question of how GB parameters may be reformulated in
the current framework: we have seen that, while the available loci would seem to
be clear (the Lexicon and one or more of the interfaces), GB parameters are not
equally easily captured in minimalist terms. This may, of course, indicate various
things. One possibility – and, given the course of normal scientific progress, it
is likely to be a very strong possibility – is that some or all of the GB parameters
were misfocused and that they should therefore be viewed, in the context of the
PP enterprise, as “first pass” attempts at pinpointing recurring points of syntactic
variation (see Section 3.5 below). Another possibility, which arose in the course
of our discussion of the Wh-movement Parameter, is that parameters may in fact
be the reflex of potentially quite complex interactions between various aspects of
language structure (lexical, morphological and syntactic), with the result that for-
mulating and “localising” them might involve consideration of a greater number
of factors than has traditionally been done (but see Haspelmath, this volume, for
a different perspective on the likelihood of cross-domain relations). At the most
general level, though, what the minimalist heuristic strongly suggests about some
of the GB parameters is the fact that they may not ultimately be formulable in a
manner which respects the SMT. Let us consider this point in a little more detail.
As Chomsky (2007: 1) notes, considerations of language acquisition had, until
the advent of the PP programme, always led Chomskyans to assume that UG
must be “rich, highly structured and substantially unique”: if the acquirer was to
be able to abduce (i.e., correctly infer on the basis of innately specified knowledge,
cf. Peirce 1955) the grammar underlying the PLD to which they are exposed (cf.
(5) above), a suitably specific UG seemed a prerequisite. The PP programme led
to the revision of this notion since it opened up the possibility of an underlying
system in which parameter settings might differ only slightly, while the surface
effects of those slight differences might be extensive (consider, for example, the
considerable surface difference between consistently head-initial and consistently
head-final languages, where the relevant underlying difference, in GB terms, is
simply the way in which the HP is set). Within the MP, consideration of the role
of a “third factor”, whose potential relevance had previously only been mentioned
in passing, but which was never explicitly included in the acquisitional scenario
alongside UG (innate endowment) and PLD (experience), has become central.
46. Introduction
This “third factor” entails principles of mental/neural organisation that are not
specific to the faculty of language, but are common to all cognitive faculties (cf.
Chomsky 2005, 2007, 2008, Hauser, Chomsky Fitch 2002 and the ensuing debate
for further discussion).
Furthermore, in terms of the hypothesis driving minimalist research – the
SMT in (22) – the null hypothesis is that UG, or the specifically linguistic infor-
mation attributed to the human genome, is minimal. In other words, minimalist
research, unlike that which went before, explicitly proceeds on the assumption
that, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, as little as possible should be at-
tributed to UG – specifically, only those properties which do not appear to be re-
ducible to more general, possibly partially functionally motivated principles. The
question is, as Chomsky (2005: 11) puts it: “How far can we progress in showing
that all … language-specific technology is reducible to principled explanation,
thus isolating core processes that are essential to the language faculty?”. In the
context of SMT-oriented theorising, then, a rich parametric inventory of the type
assumed during the GB era would constitute a considerable departure from the
SMT and, as such, should only be assumed if the evidence points to the need
for it. In the first instance, however, the goal should, as in minimalist theorising
more generally, be to consider how much of what was previously proposed can
be accounted for by appealing to “non-domain-specific” principles (e.g., those
governing efficient computation). The greater the number of language-specific
parameters that ultimately needs to be proposed, the more extensive the depar-
ture from the SMT will be.
As we have seen above, first attempts suggest that it is possible to “locate”
some GB parameters in the Lexicon and also that it might be possible to view
others as the consequence of particular options which arise at the interfaces. As
such, these parameters would represent content that needs to be ascribed spe-
cifically to UG, but at least one aspect of their nature – specifically, the fact that
they can be formulated in lexical and/or interface terms – is such that one could
offer a principled answer to the question: “Why those parameters and not others
that one could possibly formulate?”. Answer: the parameters in question are di-
rectly associated with the “virtually conceptually necessary” components of the
language faculty and do not entail postulating additional modules or otherwise
complicating the overall architecture of the language faculty. In the context of the
current phase of the PP programme, then, the question is not just what sorts of
innately specified knowledge might facilitate language acquisition in the manner
that it occurs, but additionally also whether knowledge that seems to require
innate prespecification can in fact be seen to take the form it does by virtue of this
having been “imposed” by considerations of “good design”. Insofar as the content
of UG and the design of the language faculty more generally can be understood
47. The limits of syntactic variation
as having the form that they do in virtue of “third factor” considerations, it is, in
Chomsky’s terms, possible to go “beyond explanatory adequacy”; and the MP
aims to probe the extent to which it is possible to do so, approaching the ques-
tion both “from above” (i.e., continuing the search for explanatory adequacy)
and “from below” (i.e., attempting to discover the extent to which “third factor”
considerations have shaped UG).
So far, we have speculated that GB parameters which can be viewed as being
“located” in one of the “virtually conceptually necessary” components of the lan-
guage faculty might be thought of as meeting a “good design” requirement, namely
that they do not require the postulation of additional, purely language faculty-
internal architecture. A further “good design” question that the SMT forces us
to ask is whether it is in fact necessary to view each of the specific parameters
that were previously identified as independent entities within UG. Consider, for
example, the individual head-raising parameters (e.g., V-to-T, N-to-D, V-to-C,
etc.): these clearly share the same format – X raises to Y – and the question the
SMT raises is whether UG actually requires each of these parameters to be speci-
fied individually. One might, for example, alternatively think of a general template
which serves, in much the same way as the X-bar template during the GB era, to
determine aspects of syntactic structure (cf. GGL, this volume); or, more radically,
that even the template may arise as a result of the interplay between PLD and
“third factor” considerations (cf. Zeijlstra and Evers van Kampen, this volume
and also Roberts 2007d for different versions of this idea). Evidently, then, there is
a very general question within the MP as to the forms that minimalist parameters
might take. A further question concerns their status within UG: are they present
in “unset” form at S0 or can they arise during the process of acquisition? These
are questions which have not featured prominently on the MP research agenda to
date, but which clearly need to be addressed if we are to be able to offer a coherent
and up-to-date minimalist answer to the question of how principles and param-
eters constrain syntactic variation. In the absence of a coherent minimalist theory
of this type, it is not in fact possible to meaningfully evaluate the success of the
PP enterprise to date. The remainder of Section 3 focuses on a recent evalua-
tion by Newmeyer (2005a, 2005b and 2006) which starkly underlines the need for
more systematic work on notions like “minimalist parameter”.
3.5 Recent criticism of the parametric enterprise
Newmeyer (2005b: 185) states seven desiderata that a parametric approach to
syntactic variation should meet if it is to be superior to a potential rule-based
alternative. These include descriptive simplicity, binarity, smallness of number,
implicational organisation and a rich deductive structure. He then considers the
48. Introduction
extent to which GB parameters, notably the NSP, satisfy these desiderata, ul-
timately concluding that they fall short in various ways, and that the limits of
syntactic variation should be sought in “the interplay between unparameterized
UG principles, language-particular rules, and processing principles sensitive to
structural relations holding among grammatical elements” (2005b: 225). In other
words, Newmeyer proposes that parameters should play no role in our model
of UG and that the parametric enterprise can be viewed as having failed. It is,
however, important to note that his conclusions are based exclusively on consid-
eration of GB parameters.30 As such, they can at most be interpreted as potential
conclusions as to the feasibility of the “first pass” parameters of Stage I of the PP
enterprise, and not as conclusions on the enterprise as a whole; as was discussed
in Section 3.4, minimalist parameters will necessarily differ from their GB prede-
cessors in various ways and work on precisely what the inventory of minimalist
parameters might ultimately look like has scarcely begun. Many of the contribu-
tions in this volume are centrally concerned with this question, which was also
a major focus of the conference at which they were first presented. What we will
briefly consider here is the extent to which some of Newmeyer’s criticisms can
also be levelled against the parametric enterprise as it can now be and is now
being approached. Our discussion here will focus on the descriptive simplicity,
richness of deductive structure and smallness of number desiderata (cf. discus-
sion of implicational organisation in Section 4 below, and Roberts Holmberg
2005 for discussion of the other desiderata).
Firstly,letusbrieflyconsiderthematterofdescriptivesimplicityandtherelated
matter of smallness of number. As discussed in Section 3.4 above, the hypothesis
driving minimalist research (the SMT in (22)) takes as its point of departure that
UG does not contain domain-specific information. As we have seen, it may well
be possible that it need not contain specific parameters of the type assumed during
the GB era and that any parametric options that are innately specified may take
the form of extremely general and thus also descriptively extremely simple tem-
plates (cf. GGL, Zeijlstra and Evers van Kampen for suggestions as to the format
that such templates might take). If this thinking proves to be correct, it may then
well be the case that a very small number of (or possibly even no) innately speci-
fied templates gives rise to a diverse range of steady-state (Ss) parameters. This
line of thinking has an important consequence in the context of the point New-
meyer (2005b: 185) raises regarding the complexity of the variation observed in
the world’s languages. According to Newmeyer, this is such that it simply is not
. Cf. Roberts Holmberg (2005) for a critical evaluation of some of the conclusions
Newmeyer draws.
49. The limits of syntactic variation
feasible to postulate only a small inventory of innately specified parametric options,
with the result that one might as well assume that children do not draw on innately
specified parametric choices, but instead learn language-specific rules which
capture the relevant dimensions of variation. If it can, however, be shown that it is
possible for the Ss parameters to be “constructed” during the course of acquisition,
that these do not have to be individually prespecified and that their effects might
nevertheless be wide-ranging, Newmeyer’s conclusion no longer follows.
Let us turn now to the matter of the “rich deductive structure” traditionally
ascribed to parameters. As we have seen in Section 3.4, lexically specified parame-
ters associated with specific lexical items and/or functional categories have played
a prominent role in minimalist theorising to date. At first sight, these might seem
to be parameters which may not always meet the “rich deductive structure” desid-
eratum since their effects are naturally limited to the domains in which the relevant
lexical item is present, with the result that lexically specified parameters are often
(erroneously–seethediscussionofpossibleencodingsoftheHPabove,andbelow)
equated with microparameters, i.e., parameters that define the kinds of small-scale
differences in terms of which closely related dialects may differ (cf. Kayne 2005b
for discussion). Newmeyer (2005b, 2006), like i.a. Safir (1987: 78) and Bouchard
(2003) before him, is of the view that parameters of this type entirely undermine
the rationale for parameters, essentially reducing the term parameter to a synonym
for rule. In the words of Newmeyer (2006: 9), “if every difference or even most dif-
ferences are attributed to a difference in “parameter setting”, then saying that two
languages have different parameter settings merely becomes an obfuscatory way
of saying that they have different rules”. For Newmeyer, then, only parameters of
the type Baker (this volume) designates macro- and medioparameters have a suf-
ficiently rich deductive structure to justify speaking of “parameters” as opposed
to “rules”. Like Pica (2001), however, he believes that the past quarter century of
research within the parametric framework has shown that parameters of this kind
are not empirically motivated, leaving us, at best, with lexically specified micropa-
rameters, which, for him, are in fact most realistically viewed as language-specific
rules. For Newmeyer, then, one of the central failings of the parametric enterprise
is its failure to bring to light plausible, empirically substantiated parameters which
have wide-ranging and at first sight seemingly unrelated effects.
Worth noting about Newmeyer’s conclusion are the assumptions on which
it is based. Firstly, it takes for granted that lexically specified (micro) parameters
necessarily have very limited surface effects of the kind that can be very straight-
forwardly captured in generalised rule format. That microparameters could also
entail “deep” effects, with the presence of a lexical item or particular feature speci-
fication, for example, determining the (un)availability and/or the form of further,
often seemingly quite unrelated structures in the language is not entertained as a
50. Introduction
possibility. As Kayne’s contribution to this volume and his and other researchers’
microparametric work more generally has strikingly shown, however, points of
microparametric variation do not have to differ from medio- or macroparametric
ones in this regard (cf. also Rizzi 2004: 332 on this point). Furthermore, as Baker
(this volume: 355) points out, “[i]t is perfectly possible that a lexical parameter
… could have a substantial impact on the language generated, particularly if it
concerned some very prominent item (such as the finite Tense node)”. And, con-
versely, a macroparameter like the Polysynthesis Parameter might only have a very
limited impact on a language lacking extensive agreement (cf. also Baker 1996:
note 35). Kayne (2005b: 5–6) likewise registers the opacity surrounding the notion
of parametric “size”, pointing out that “what seems “dramatic” [in terms of number
of empirical reflexes or range of effects – TB] depends on expectations that may
themselves be somewhat arbitrary”. Given all of this, it seems fair to say that it is
not at all clear that the discovery and existence of “large” parameters, assuming the
meaningfulness of a notion of this type, is crucial to the success of the parametric
enterprise. Furthermore, given the potentially extensive effects of “smaller” pa-
rameters, it is also cannot be said to follow that the possible non-existence of
“large” parameters entails that one might as well conceptualise crosslinguistic
variation in terms of language-specific rules.
Another point worth noting in this connection is that Newmeyer’s conclu-
sions rest on the assumption that macroparametric research is no longer being
seriously entertained by researchers engaged in the parametric enterprise. As
Baker himself indicates in his contribution to this volume, it is certainly true that
genuinely macroparametric research is not receiving nearly the attention that
Kayne-style microparametric research is. This is, however, different from saying
that researchers are no longer engaged in this type of research at all, and various
contributions to this volume show that this is not in fact the case – cf. Modesto on
a potential Topic Parameter, Zeijlstra on a Negative Concord Parameter, Öztürk
on a Non-configurationality Parameter and Avram Coene on a Split INFL Pa-
rameter which, unlike Bobaljik Thráinsson’s (1998) original, is hypothesized to
have large-scale effects both in the clausal and the nominal domain. And beyond
the articles collected here, Huang’s (2006) work on the synchronic and diachronic
consequences of a so-called Analyticity Parameter, in some senses the diametric
opposite of Baker’s (1996) Polysynthesis Parameter, constitutes further evidence
that this line of research is also receiving attention. Further, this volume also
contains papers which consider parameters that might, in Baker’s terms, be thought
of a medioparameters – cf. Lekakou’s Aspect Parameter, Fernandez-Salgueiro’s
Case-F Valuation Parameter and Neeleman Szendröi’s Radical Pro-drop Param-
eter. In sum, then, the contributions in this volume do not support the view that
present-day parametric research is exclusively microparametric or that “larger”
51. The limits of syntactic variation
parameters are no longer on the research agenda. Furthermore, as already noted
above and as is also specifically highlighted in Baker’s paper, there is, quite indepen-
dently of the amount of research being done on non-microparametric syntax, unde-
niable empirical evidence – uncovered by both typologists and generativists – that
the world’s languages robustly exhibit skewings of various kinds; and, moreover,
skewings that often cannot be economically stated in rule form (cf. the discus-
sion in Section 3.4 of lexical reformulations of the HP). These empirical facts
clearly require explanation, and it is not obvious how a purely (language-specific)
rule-based account of the kind Newmeyer espouses gets us any closer to under-
standing them.
To conclude, then: consideration of just three of Newmeyer’s desiderata in
relation to the current stage of the parametric enterprise would seem to lead to
very different conclusions as to its potential value to those drawn by Newmeyer
himself. There is no denying the fact that core questions relating to the number,
format, size, interrelationship and, in fact, given Chomsky’s “three factors” specu-
lations, the very existence of innately prespecified parameters do not have clearcut
answers at this stage of the PP enterprise. These are matters which need to be
at the forefront of the MP research agenda to a much greater extent than they
currently are if a meaningful evaluation of the parametric aspects of the PP en-
terprise as it stands now is to become a realistic prospect. That the GB parameters
which are the focus of Newmeyer’s evaluation do not constitute plausible innately
specified constraints on syntactic variation is beyond dispute; what remains to be
seen now is whether or not the same will be true of the current phase of the PP
programme.
3.6 Conclusion
This section has shown that the factors determining the limits of syntactic varia-
tion are in many respects still poorly understood. Accordingly, questions as funda-
mental as whether innately specified knowledge plays a role or not and if so, what
form such knowledge should take are still under debate. Against this background,
what the present volume aims to do, then, is to give a flavour of current thinking
on the nature and value of parameters and parametric theory in accounting for
syntactic variation.
The remainder of this introduction will now focus more specifically on the
contents of its sixteen papers and the issues that they address. The volume is or-
ganised into four sections which respectively focus on the following topics:
• the locus of (parametric) variation (cf. Section 4)
• the NSP (cf. Section 5)
52. Introduction
• parametric clustering (cf. Section 6); and
• the acquisition of parameters (cf. Section 7)
4. The locus of parametric variation
This section considers the under-discussed question of “where” in terms of the
overall architecture of the grammar we might expect points of syntactic variation
to be specified.
It opens with a paper by Haspelmath which aims to fill a gap in the currently
existing literature on (the limits of) syntactic variation by providing (i) a system-
atic comparison of the different ways in which parametrically and functionally
oriented linguists traditionally approach the limits question and (ii) a critical
evaluation of the success the two approaches have achieved. Haspelmath’s main
contention is that the recurrent patterns in the world’s languages – so-called phe-
nomenological universals in his (2004) terminology – require an observationally
adequate account, i.e., one that distinguishes possible from impossible expressions
in a language (p. 2) and that does not make any claims about speakers’ knowledge;
attempts at achieving any “higher” level of adequacy and, particularly, at trying to
gain insight into the workings of the human mind via the study of syntactic limits
are not, in Haspelmath’s view, feasible nor, given the availability of functional and
processing explanations, even necessary.
The proposal is that languages should (contra Meillet 1903: 407) not be viewed
as “systems in which everything hangs together”. Consequently, so-called cross-
domain implications where, for example, semantic organisation correlates with
aspects of phonological organisation, should be expected to be rather rare, whereas
so-called intra-domain implications where, for example, one aspect of phonology
correlates with one or more other aspects of phonological organisation, need not
be so. In keeping with these expectations, typological research has revealed a great
many intra-domain implications, many of which are, according to Haspelmath,
amenable to a functional explanation (cf. pp. 96–100). Cross-domain implications,
on the other hand, have proved rare, producing only weak correlations which are in
many cases quite difficult to distinguish from areal effects (cf. p. 19). The conclusion
to be drawn from this, then, is argued to be that a research programme which
seeks to understand apparently unrelated surface phenomena, particularly where
these do not belong to the same domain, as the reflexes of a far smaller number of
parameters is misfocused: the data do not warrant such a programme and it is
doomed to fail in the same way in which previous attempts to propose “holistic” lan-
guage types have failed (cf. the fate of the 19th century morphological typologies).
Instead, the question that should be being asked about recurrent patterns, given
53. Introduction
restrictions of computational efficiency and conditions of the interfaces” (p. 118).
On this basis, they identify five “core” parameter schemata, leaving open the
possibility of further schemata relating to phonetic nullness and lexico-semantic
parameterisation. In the context of GGL’s so-called Parameters and Schemata
(PS) model, then, the contents of UG is restricted to a limited number of func-
tional features, and lexical categories, together with “a tiny class of parameter
schemata” (p. 122); the parameters with which we are familiar are not therefore
linguistic primitives; instead, they are constructed on the basis of innately speci-
fied features, lexical categories and schemata, which are the actual primitives.
Aside from the new possibilities that this type of approach opens up in the
domain of language acquisition (cf. Section 3.4 and 3.5 above), it also makes a
very interesting new prediction about the extent to which grammatical variation
is expected to emerge over time. As GGL note, current minimalist-inspired
theories might lead one to conclude that the amount of variation should de-
crease over time, whereas the linguistic reality suggests that the opposite is in
fact true – consider, for example, the immense grammatical diversity found
in Italo-Romance, a language family which has a 1500–2000 year history, com-
pared to the restricted grammatical diversity found in the various varieties of
Afrikaans, a language which has only existed as a variety speakers think of as
an independent language, distinct from Dutch since the late 19th century (cf.
Deumert 2004).32 GGL argue that their PS model predicts that grammatical
diversity will increase over time. In their words: “once the introduction of a pa-
rameter schema into the language faculty is justified for a single case, it will …
bring about every more potential variation for all possible combinations of
relevant entities in the lexicon (features and categories)” (p. 123).
Finally, GGL also consider the role that parameters – viewed in the de-
rivative, schemata-determined manner outlined above – might potentially be
able to play in facilitating a better understanding of the phylogenetic relations
between languages. They argue that the correctness of the phylogenetic predic-
tions made on the basis of MGP, firstly, corroborates the validity of postulating
parameters and, secondly and more importantly, opens up the possibility of using
parametric values as comparanda in seeking to establish linguistic relationships.
. As Ian Roberts (p.c.) observes, it should, however, be noted that it is too simplistic to view
the emergence of grammatical variation as a process which proceeds uniformly: change can
sometimes occur in sudden spurts, as seems to have been the case in Middle English (cf. Fischer
et al. 2000) and 9th century Icelandic (cf. Hróarsdóttir 2000); conversely, languages may remain
fairly static for relatively long periods of time, at least as far as certain properties are concerned –
consider, for example, the lack of change in most of the Romance languages with respect to their
NSL status.
54. The limits of syntactic variation
For GGL, then, parametric theory, rigorously pursued, may facilitate insights
into a wide range of issues, going well beyond the points at which languages
may differ.
Zeijlstra’s paper, like GGL’s, pursues the question of what a truly minimalist,
plausibly specified UG would contain and the proposal he makes resonates with
theirs in various interesting ways. Zeijlstra’s specific focus is the question of the
identity of the set of formal features available to UG and his central proposal is that
this set is in fact empty. Instead, the inventory of formal features that can head a
functional projection in a given language is argued to be fixed on the basis of PLD,
during first-language acquisition (cf. also Evers van Kampen for a similar pro-
posal in another domain). Strikingly, Zeijlstra and GGL’s proposals converge on
one of the choice-points requiring fixing during language acquisition – Is feature
F formalized as a formal (grammatical) feature? (cf. the first of GGL’s schemata).
Where they differ is in respect of the ontological status that they assign to this
choice-point: for GGL, it is one of the innately specified schemata in UG, whereas
for Zeijlstra, it simply constitutes a linguists’ description of one of the major types
of PLD-driven choice that children make during acquisition. In terms of Zeijl-
stra’s Flexible Formal Feature Hypothesis (FFFH), children must determine for the
features encoded in their language whether a given feature is a purely semantic
feature which has C-I-relevant content, but none which is relevant to the compu-
tational system (i.e., NS) or whether it has both. In the latter case, a formal (i.e.,
grammatical) feature will be postulated. The cue for deciding the status of a feature
is the presence vs. absence in the PLD of semantically vacuous doubling: where it
is present, the child “notices” and a formal feature is postulated; where it is absent,
there is nothing to “notice” and therefore nothing in effect happens as the FFFH
does not assume the prior existence of an entity requiring “negative setting” (cf.
also Roberts 2007d: 17–18). Zeijlstra presents the crosslinguistic distribution of
Negative Concord phenomena as a case study to illustrate the workings of the
proposal, demonstrating that [negation] must be analysed as a formal feature in
Negative Concord languages, where negations do not cancel each other out. In so-
called Double Negation languages, by contrast, each negative element does in fact
bear negative meaning, with the result that children acquiring these languages will
conclude that [negation] is always and only a semantic feature. In general, then,
the proposal is that instances of syntactic agreement (“concord”) will signal the
presence of a formal feature in the language being acquired.
As Zeijlstra notes, the proposal has clear implications not only for the de-
scription of synchronically attested varieties, but also for the manner in which
diachronic changes will take place. In the latter context, it is clear that the loss and/
or introduction of sound-meaning forms (words, clitics, inflections, etc.) bearing
features which consequently are or are not doubled would be expected to result
56. Eskimo, and the so-called “shamans” of southern Alaska, but, as far
as we could see, do not possess the power and influence usually
elsewhere ascribed to this class.
It was exceedingly difficult to obtain any definite information
concerning these people, and we only discovered casually that such
and such a person was a “doctor” by hearing that he had been
employed in a certain case of sickness, or to perform some
ceremony of incantation. We did not even succeed in learning the
name of this class of people, who, in talking with us, would call
themselves “tûktĕ,” as they did our surgeon. On one occasion some
of the party happened to visit the house of a sick man where one of
these “doctors” was at work. He sat facing the entrance of the
house, beating his drum at intervals, and making a babbling noise
with his lips, followed by long speeches addressed to something
down the trapdoor, bidding it “go!” We were given to understand
that these speeches were addressed to a tuɐña or supernatural
being. 576 Their only idea of direct treatment of disease is apparently
to apply a counterirritant by scarification of the surface of the part
affected.
We know of one case where a sufferer from some liver complaint
had inflicted on himself, or had had inflicted upon him, quite a
considerable cut on the right side with a view of relieving the pain.
We also know of several cases where the patients had themselves
cut on the scalp or back to relieve headache or rheumatism, and one
case where the latter disorder, I believe, had been treated by a
severe cut on the side of the knee. A similar practice has been
observed at Plover Bay, Siberia, by Hooper, 577 who also mentions
the use of a kind of seton for the relief of headache.
They also practice a sort of rough-and-ready surgery, as in the case
of the man already mentioned, whose feet had both been
amputated. One of the men who lost the tip of his forefinger by the
explosion of a cartridge was left with a stump of bone protruding at
the end of the finger. Our surgeon attempted to treat this, but after
two unsuccessful trials to etherize the patient he was obliged to give
57. it up. When, however, the young man’s father-in-law, who was a
noted “doctor,” came home he said at once that the stump must
come off, and the patient had to submit to the operation without
ether. The “doctor” tried to borrow Dr. Oldmixon’s bone forceps, and
when these were refused him cut the bone off, I believe, with a
chisel. They appear to have no cure for blindness. We heard nothing
of the curious process of “couching” described by Egede in
Greenland, p. 121. We had no opportunity of observing their
methods of treating wounds or other external injuries. Sufferers
were very glad to be treated by our surgeon, and eagerly accepted
his medicines, though he had considerable difficulty in making them
obey his directions about taking care of themselves.
After they had been in the habit of receiving the surgeon’s medicine
for some time, one of the Utkiavwĭñ natives gave Capt. Herendeen
what he said was their own medicine. It is a tiny bit of turf which
they called nuna kĭñmölq, and which, therefore, probably came from
the highland of the upper Meade River, which region bears the name
of Kĭñmölq. We were able to get very little information about this
substance, but my impression is that it was said to be administered
internally, and I believe was specially recommended for bleeding at
the lungs. Possibly this is the same as “the black moss that grows on
the mountain,” which, according to Crantz 578 was eaten by the
Greenlanders to stop blood-spitting.
CUSTOMS CONCERNING THE DEAD.
Abstentions.—
From the fact that we did not hear of any of the deaths until after
their occurrence, we were able to learn very few of their customs
concerning the dead. The few observations we were able to make
agree in the main with those made elsewhere. For instance, we
learned with tolerable certainty that the relatives of the dead, at
least, must abstain from working on wood with an ax or hammer for
58. a certain period—I believe, four or five days. According to Dall, 579 in
the region about Norton Sound the men can not cut wood with an
ax for five days after a death has occurred. In Greenland the
household of the deceased were obliged to abstain for a while from
certain kinds of food and work. 580
A woman from Utkiavwĭñ, who came over to the station one day in
the autumn of 1881, declined to sew on clothing, even at our house,
because, as she told Lieut. Ray, there was a dead man in the village
who had not yet been carried out to the cemetery and “he would
see her.” After consulting with her husband, however, she concluded
she could protect herself from him by tracing a circle about her on
the floor with a snow-knife. In this circle she did the sewing
required, and was careful to keep all her work inside of it.
One of the natives informed me that when a man died his labrets
were taken out and thrown away. I remember, however, seeing a
young man wearing a plug labret of syenite, which he said had
belonged to an old man who died early in the winter of 1881-’82. It
was perhaps removed before he actually died.
Manner of disposing of the dead.—
The corpse is wrapped up in a piece of sailcloth (deerskin was
formerly used), laid upon a flat sled, and dragged out by a small
party of people—perhaps the immediate relatives of the deceased,
though we never happened to see one of these funeral processions
except from a distance—to the cemetery, the place where “they
sleep on the ground.” This place at Utkiavwĭñ is a rising ground
about a mile and a half east of the village, near the head of the
southwest branch of the Isûtkwa lagoon. At Nuwŭk the main
cemetery is at “Nexeurá,” between the village and Pernyû. The
bodies are laid out upon the ground without any regular
arrangement apparently, though it is difficult to be sure of this, as
most of the remains have been broken up and scattered by dogs and
foxes. With a freshly wrapped body it is almost impossible to tell
which is the head and which the feet. We unfortunately never
59. noticed whether the heads were laid toward any particular point of
the compass, as has been observed in other localities. Dr. Simpson
says that the head is laid to the east at Point Barrow.
Various implements belonging to the deceased are broken and laid
beside the corpse, and the sled is sometimes broken and laid over it.
Sometimes, however, the latter is withdrawn a short distance from
the cemetery and left on the tundra for one moon, after which it is
brought back to the village. Most people do not seem to be troubled
at having the bodies of their relatives disturbed by the dogs or other
animals, 581 but we know of one case where the parents of two
children who died very nearly at the same time, finding that the
dogs were getting at the bodies, raised them on stages of driftwood
about 4 or 5 feet high. Similar stages were observed by Hooper at
Plover Bay; 582 but this method of disposing of the dead appears to
have gone out of use at the present day, since Dall 583 describes the
ordinary Siberian method of laying out the dead in ovals of stone as
in use at Plover Bay at the time of his visit.
The cemetery at Utkiavwĭñ is not confined to the spot I have
mentioned, though most of the bodies are exposed there. A few
bodies are also exposed on the other side of the lagoon, and one
body, that of a man, was laid out at the edge of the higher tundra,
about a mile due east from the station. The body was covered with
canvas, staked down all round with broken paddles, and over it was
laid a flat sledge with one runner broken. 584 At one end of the body
lay a wooden dish, and under the edge of the canvas were broken
seal-darts and other spears. The body lay in an east and west line,
but we could not tell which end was the head. All sorts of objects
were scattered round the cemetery—tools, dishes, and even a few
guns—though we saw none that appeared to have been serviceable
when exposed, except one Snider rifle. If, as is the case among
Eskimo in a good many other places, all the personal property of the
deceased is supposed to become unclean and must be exposed with
him, it is probable that his friends manage to remove the more
valuable articles before he is actually dead. 585
60. The method of disposing of the dead varies slightly among the
Eskimo in different localities, but the weapons or other implements
belonging to the deceased are always laid beside the corpse. The
custom at Smith Sound, as described by Bessels, 586 is remarkably
like that at Point Barrow. The corpse was wrapped in furs, placed on
a sledge, and dragged out and buried in the snow with the face to
the west. The sledge was laid over the body and the weapons of the
deceased were deposited beside it. Unlike the Point Barrow natives,
however, they usually cover the body with stones. In the same
passage Dr. Bessels describes a peculiar symbol of mourning, not
employed, so far as I can learn, elsewhere. The male mourners
plugged up the right nostril with hay and the females the left, and
these plugs were worn for several days. The custom of covering the
body with stones appears to be universally prevalent east of the
Mackenzie region. 587
The bodies seen by Dr. Richardson in the delta of the Mackenzie
were wrapped in skins and loosely covered with driftwood, 588 and a
similar arrangement was noticed at Kotzebue Sound by Beechey,
who figures 589 a sort of little wigwam of driftwood built over the
dead man. At Port Clarence Nordenskiöld 590 saw two corpses “laid
on the ground, fully clothed, without protection of any coffin, but
surrounded by a close fence consisting of a number of tent-poles
driven crosswise into the ground. Alongside one of the corpses lay a
kayak with oars, a loaded double-barreled gun with locks at half-
cock and caps on, various other weapons, clothes, tinder-box,
snowshoes, drinking-vessels, two masks, * * * and strangely shaped
animal figures.” On the Siberian coast the dead are sometimes
burned. 591
Nordenskiöld believes that the coast Chukches have perhaps begun
to abandon the custom of burning the dead, but I am rather inclined
to think that is a custom of the “deermen,” which the people of the
coast of pure or mixed Eskimo blood never fully adopted. Dall,
indeed, was explicitly informed that the custom was only used with
the bodies of “good” men, and at the time of Nordenskiöld’s visit he
61. found it “at least certain that the people of Pitlekaj exclusively bury
their dead by laying them out on the tundra.” The body is
surrounded by an oval of stones, but apparently not covered with
them as in the east. 592 The Krause brothers observed by the bodies,
besides “die erwähnten Geräthschaften” [Lanzen, Bogen und Pfeile
für die Männer, Koch- und Hausgeräthe für die Weiber], “unter einen
kleinen Steinhaufen ein Hunde-, Renthier-, Bären- oder Walross-
Schädel.” This custom shows a curious resemblance to that
described by Egede 593 in Greenland: “When little Children die and
are buried, they put the Head of a Dog near the Grave, fancying that
Children, having no Understanding, they can not by themselves find
the Way, but the Dog must guide them to the Land of the Souls.”
The body is usually laid out at full length upon the ground. Among
the ancient Greenlanders, 594 however, and in the Yukon region the
body was doubled up. In the latter region the body was laid on its
side in a box of planks four feet long and raised on four supports 595
or wrapped up in mats and covered with rocks or driftwood. 596 The
custom of inclosing the dead in a short coffin, to judge from the
figures given by the latter writer in P1. vi. of his report, appears also
to prevail at the mouth of the Kuskokwim. In the island of Kadiak,
according to Dall and Lisiansky, 597 the dead were buried.
62. Two lines near the bottom of the page were reversed in print:
GOVERNMENT.
In the family.—
I can hardly do better than quote Dr. Simpson’s words, already
referred to (op. cit. page 252), on this subject: “A man seems to
have unlimited authority in his own hut.” Nevertheless, his rule
seems to be founded on respect and mutual agreement, rather than
on despotic authority. The wife appears to be consulted, as already
stated, on all important occasions, and, to quote Dr. Simpson again
(ibid.): “Seniority gives precedence when there are several women in
one hut, and the sway of the elder in the direction of everything
connected with her duties seems never disputed.” When more than
one family inhabit the same house the head of each family appears
to have authority over his own relatives, while the relations between
the two are governed solely by mutual agreement.
In the village.—
These people have no established form of government nor any
chiefs in the ordinary sense of the word, but appear to be ruled by a
strong public opinion, combined with a certain amount of respect for
the opinions of the elder people, both men and women, and by a
large number of traditional observances like those concerning the
whale fishery, the deceased, etc., already described. In the ordinary
relations of life a person, as a rule, avoids doing anything to his
neighbor which he would not wish to have done to himself, and
affairs which concern the community as a whole, as for instance
63. their relations with us at the station, are settled by a general and
apparently informal discussion, when the opinion of the majority
carries the day. The majority appears to have no means, short of
individual violence, of enforcing obedience to its decisions, but, as
far as we could see, the matter is left to the good sense of the
parties concerned. Respect for the opinions of elders is so great that
the people may be said to be practically under what is called “simple
elder rule.” 598 Public opinion has formulated certain rules in regard
to some kinds of property and the division of game, which are
remarkably like those noticed among Eskimo elsewhere, and which
may be supposed to have grown up among the ancestors of the
Eskimo, before their separation.
For instance, in Greenland, 599 “Anyone picking up pieces of
driftwood or goods lost at sea or on land was considered the rightful
owner of them; and to make good his possession he had only to
carry them up above high-water mark and put stones upon them, no
matter where his homestead might be.” Now, at Point Barrow we
often saw the natives dragging driftwood up to the high-water mark,
and the owner seemed perfectly able to prove his claim. Lieut. Ray
informs me that he has seen men mark such sticks of timber by
cutting them with their adzes and that sticks so marked were
respected by the other natives. On one occasion, when he was
about to have a large piece of drift-timber dragged up to the station,
a woman came up and proved that the timber belonged to her by
pointing out the freshly cut mark. I have myself seen a native claim
a barrel which had been washed ashore, by setting it up on end.
As far as we could learn, the smaller animals, as for instance, birds,
the smaller seals, reindeer, etc., are the property of the hunter,
instead of being divided as in some other localities, for example at
Smith Sound, 600. The larger seals and walruses appeared to be
divided among the boat’s crew, the owner of the boat apparently
keeping the tusks of the walrus and perhaps the skin. A bear,
however, both flesh and skin, is equally divided among all who in any
way had a hand in the killing. We learned this with certainty from
64. having to purchase the skin of a bear killed at the village, where a
number of men had been engaged in the hunt. When a whale is
taken, as I have already said, the whalebone is equally divided
among the crews of all the boats in sight at the time of killing. All
comers, however, have a right to all the flesh, blubber, and blackskin
that they can cut off. 601
Dr. Rink, in describing the social order of the ancient
Greenlanders, 602 says: “Looking at what has been said regarding
the rights of property and the division of the people into certain
communities, in connection with the division of property into the
classes just given, we are led to the conclusion that the right of any
individual to hold more than a certain amount of property was, if not
regulated by law, at least jealously watched by the rest of the
community, and that virtually the surplus of any individual or
community, fixed by the arbitrary rate which tradition or custom had
assigned, was made over to those who had less.” At Point Barrow,
however, the idea of individual ownership appears to be much more
strongly developed. As far as we could learn, there is no limit to the
amount of property which an individual, at least the head of a family,
may accumulate. Even though the whalebone be, as already
described, divided among all the boats’ crews “in at the death,” no
objection is made to one man buying it all up, if he has the means,
for his own private use.
This has given rise to a regular wealthy and aristocratic class, who,
however, are not yet sufficiently differentiated from the poorer
people to refuse to associate on any terms but those of social
equality. The men of this class are the umialiks, a word which
appears in many corrupted forms on the coast of Western America
and is often supposed to mean “chief.” Dr. Simpson 603 says: “The
chief men are called O-mé-liks (wealthy),” but “wealthy” is an
explanation of the position of these men, and not a translation of the
title, which, as we obtained it, is precisely the same as the
Greenland word for owner of a boat, umialik (from umia(k), and the
65. termination lĭk or lĭ-ñ. This is one of the few cases in which the final
k is sounded at Point Barrow as in Greenland).
Dr. Rink has already observed 604 that the word used by Simpson
“no doubt must be the same as the Greenlandish umialik, signifying
owner of a boat,” and as I heard the title more than once carefully
pronounced at Point Barrow it was the identical word. The umialiks,
as Simpson says, 605 “have acquired their position by being more
thrifty and intelligent, better traders, and usually better hunters, as
well as physically stronger and more daring.” 606 They have acquired
a certain amount of influence and respect from these reasons, as
well as from their wealth, which enables them to purchase the
services of others to man their boats, but appear to have absolutely
no authority outside of their own families. 607 Petroff 608 considers
them as a sort of “middlemen or spokesmen,” who make themselves
“prominent by superintending all intercourse and traffic with
visitors.”
This sort of prominence, however, appears to have been conferred
upon them by the traders, who, ignorant of the very democratic
state of Eskimo society, naturally look for “chiefs” to deal with. They
pick out the best looking and best dressed man in the village and
endeavor to win his favor by giving him presents, receiving him into
the cabin, and conducting all their dealings with the natives through
him. The chief, thus selected, is generally shrewd enough to make
the most of the greatness thrust upon him, and no doubt often
pretends to more influence and power than he actually
possesses. 609
As to the story of the whalemen, that the “chieftainship” is the
reward of the best fighter, who holds it like a “challenge cup,”
subject to being called out at any time to defend his rank in a duel,
as far as concerns Point Barrow, this is a sheer fable, perhaps
invented by the Eskimo to impose upon the strangers, but more
likely the result of misunderstanding and a vivid imagination on the
part of the whites. Among umialiks, one or two appear to have more
wealth and influence than the rest. Tcuñaura in Utkiavwĭñ and the
66. late Katiga at Nuwŭk were said, according to Captain Herendeen, to
be “great umialiks” and Tcuñaura was always spoken of as the
foremost man in Utkiavwĭñ. We knew of one party coming up from
Sidaru with presents for Tcuñaura, and were informed that the other
Eskimo never sold to him, but only gave him presents. It was also
said that Katiga’s infant son would one day be a “great umialik.”
All these men are or have been captains of whaling umiaks, and the
title umialiks appears to be applied to them in this capacity, since
many of the poorer men, who, as far as we could learn, were not
considered umialiks, own umiaks which they do not fit out for
whaling, but use only to transport their families from place to place
in the summer.
RELIGION.
General ideas.—
It was exceedingly difficult to get any idea of the religious belief of
the people, partly from our inability to make ourselves understood in
regard to abstract ideas and partly from ignorance on our part of the
proper method of conducting such inquiries. For instance, in trying
to get at their ideas of a future life, we could only ask “Where does a
man go when he dies?” to which we, of course, received the obvious
answer, “To the cemetery!” Moreover, such a multitude of other and
easier lines of investigation presented themselves for our attention
that we were naturally inclined to neglect the difficult field of
religion, and besides under the circumstances of our intercourse it
was almost impossible to get the attention of the natives when their
minds were not full of other subjects.
Nevertheless, many of the fragments of superstition and tradition
that we were able to collect agree remarkably with what has been
observed among the Eskimo elsewhere, so that it is highly probable
that their religion is of the same general character as that of the
Greenlanders, namely, a belief in a multitude of supernatural beings,
67. who are to be exorcised or propitiated by various observances,
especially by the performances of certain specially gifted people,
who are something of the nature of wizards. So much has been
written by many authors about these wizards or “doctors,” the
angekut of the eastern Eskimo, the so-called “shamans” of Alaska
and Siberia, that I need make no special reference to their writings
except where they happen to throw light on our own observations.
Dr. Simpson succeeded in obtaining more information concerning the
religious belief of these people than our party was able to do, and
his observations, 610 to which ours are in some degree
supplementary, tend to corroborate the conclusion at which I have
arrived.
Our information in regard to the special class of wizards was rather
vague. We learned that many men in the village, distinguishable
from the rest by no visible characteristics, were able to heal the sick,
procure good weather, favorable winds, plenty of game, and do
other things by “talking” and beating the drum. We did not learn the
number of these men in either village, but we heard of very many
different men doing one or the other of these things, while others of
our acquaintance never attempted them. Neither did we learn that
any one of these men was considered superior to the rest, as
appears to be the case in some regions, nor how a man could attain
this power. Some of these men, who appeared to give particular
attention to curing the sick, called themselves “tû´ktĕ” (“doctor”),
but, probably for want of properly directed inquiries, we did not
learn the Eskimo name of these people. We were definitely
informed, however, that their “talk,” when treating disease or trying
to obtain fair weather, etc., was addressed to “tu´ɐña,” or a
supernatural being. This name, of course, differs only in dialectic
form from that applied in other places to the universal familiar spirits
of Eskimo superstition.
We at first supposed that “tuɐña” meant some particular individual
demon, but Dr. Simpson is probably right in saying that the Point
Barrow natives, like the rest of the Eskimo, recognize a host of
tuɐñain, since “tuɐña” was described to us under a variety of forms.
68. Most of the natives whom we asked if they had seen tuɐña, said that
they had not, but that other men, mentioning certain “doctors,” had
seen him. One man, however, said that he had seen tuɐña in the
kûdyĭgĭ, when the people “talked” sitting in the dark, with their
heads bowed and faces covered, and tuɐña came with a noise like a
great bird. 611 He had raised his head and saw tuɐña, like a man
with bloodless cheeks. 612 Tuɐña again was called “a bad man,
dead” (apparently a ghost), sometimes as large as a man and
sometimes dwarfish, sometimes a fleshless skeleton, while one man,
to describe him, made the same grimace that a white man would
use to indicate a hobgoblin, with staring eyes, gaping mouth, and
hands outstretched like claws. Apparently “tuɐña” in conversation
with us was used to designate all the various supernatural objects of
their belief, ghosts as well as familiar spirits. For instance, in
Greenland, according to Rink, 613 a ghost “manifests himself by
whistling or singing in the ears.” Now, Lieut. Ray was walking rapidly
one day in the winter with an Eskimo and his wife, and the woman
suddenly stopped and said she “heard tuɐña”—that he made a noise
like singing in the ears.
The people generally have a great dread of “tuɐña,” who they say
would kill them, and are very averse to going out alone in the dark.
One of each party that came over from the village in the evening
usually carried a drawn knife, preferably one of the large double-
edged knives, supposed to be Siberian and already described, in his
hand as defense against tuɐña, and a drawn knife was sometimes
even carried in the daylight “nanumunlu tuɐñamunlu,” “for bear and
demon.” Notwithstanding their apparently genuine dread of “tuɐña,”
they are by no means averse to talking or even joking about him.
The knife also serves as a protection against the aurora, which most
of them agree is bad, and when bright likely to kill a person by
striking him in the back of the neck. However, brandishing the knife
at it will keep it off. Besides, as a woman told me one night, you can
drive off a “bad” aurora by throwing at it dog’s excrement and
urine. 614
69. Lieut. Ray saw in one of the houses in Utkaiwiñ, a contrivance for
frightening away a “tuɐña” from the entrance to a house should he
try to get in. The man had hung in the trapdoor the handle of a seal-
drag by means of a thong spiked to the wall with a large knife, and
told Lieut. Ray that if “tuɐña” tried to get into the house he would
undoubtedly catch hold of the handle to help himself up, which
would pull down the knife upon his head and frighten him off. We
never had an opportunity of witnessing the ceremony of summoning
“tuɐña,” nor did we ever hear of the ceremony taking place during
our stay at the station, but we were fortunate enough to observe
several other performances, though they do not appear to be
frequent. The ceremony of healing the sick and the ceremonies
connected with the whale-fishery have already been described.
On the 21st of February, 1883, Lieut. Ray and Capt. Herendeen
happened to be at the village on time to see the tuɐña, who had
been causing the bad weather, expelled from the village. Some of
the natives said the next day that they had killed the tuɐña, but they
said at the same time he had gone “a long way off.” When Lieut. Ray
reached the village, women were standing at the doors of the
houses armed with snow-knives and clubs with which they made
passes over the entrance when the people inside called out. He
entered one house and found a woman vigorously driving the tuɐña
out of every corner with a knife. They then repaired to the kûdyĭgi,
where there were ten or twelve people, each of whom, to quote
from Lieut. Ray’s note book, “made a charge against the evil spirit,
telling what injuries they had received from it.” Then they went into
the open air, where a fire had been built in front of the entrance,
and formed a half circle around the fire. Each then went up and
made a speech, bending over the fire (according to Simpson, who
describes a similar ceremony at Nuwŭk on p. 274 of his paper,
coaxing the tuɐña to come under the fire to warm himself). Then
they brought out a large tub full of urine, to which, Simpson says,
each man present had contributed, and held it ready near the fire,
while two men stood with their rifles in readiness, and a boy stood
near the fire with a large stone in his hands, bracing himself firmly
70. with his feet spread apart for a vigorous throw. Then they chanted
as follows (the words of this chant were obtained afterward by the
writer):
Tâk tâk tâk tohâ!
Nìju´a hâ!
He! he! he!
Haiyahe!
Yaiyahe!
Hwi!
And instantly the contents of the tub were dashed on the fire, the
stone thrown into the embers, and both men discharged their rifles,
one into the embers, and one into the cloud of steam as it rose.
Then all brushed their clothes violently and shouted, and the tuɐña
was killed. By a fortunate coincidence, the next day was the finest
we had had for a long time.
Sacrifices are also occasionally made to these supernatural beings as
in Greenland “gifts were offered to the inue of certain rocks, capes
and ice firths, principally when traveling and passing those
places.” 615
Capt. Herendeen, in the fall of 1882, went to the rivers in company
with one of the “doctors.” When they arrived at the river Kuaru,
where the latter intended to stay for the fishing, he got out his drum
and “talked” for a long time, and breaking off very small pieces of
tobacco threw them into the air, crying out, “Tuɐña, tuɐña, I give
you tobacco! give me plenty of fish.” When they passed the dead
men at the cemetery, he gave them tobacco in the same way, asking
them also for fish. 616 We noticed but few other superstitious
observances which have not been already described. As in Greenland
and elsewhere, superstition requires certain persons to abstain from
certain kinds of food. For instance, Mûñialu, and apparently many
others, were not permitted to eat the burbot, another man was
denied ptarmigan, and a woman 617 at Nuwŭk was not allowed to
71. eat “earth food,” that is, anything which grew upon the ground.
Lieut. Ray also mentions a man who was forbidden bear’s flesh. 618
We observed some traces of the superstition concerning the heads
of seals and other marine animals taken in the chase, which has
been noticed elsewhere. Crantz says: 619 “The heads of seals must
not be fractured, nor must they be thrown into the sea, but be piled
in a heap before the door, 620 that the souls of the seals may not be
enraged and scare their brethren from the coast.” And Capt. Parry
found that at Winter Island they carefully preserved the heads of all
the animals killed during the winter, except two or three of the
walrus which he obtained with great difficulty. The natives told him
that they were to be thrown into the sea in the summer, but at
Iglulik they readily sold them before the summer arrived. 621
I tried very hard to get a full series of skulls from the seals taken at
Utkiavwĭñ in the winter of 1882-’83, but though I frequently asked
the natives to bring them over for sale, they never did so, till at last
one young woman promised to bring me all I wanted at the price of
half a pound of gunpowder a skull. Nevertheless, she brought over
only two or three at that price. We did not observe what was done
with the skulls, but frequently observed quantities of the smaller
bones of the seals carefully tucked away in the crevices of the ice at
some distance from the shore. We had comparatively little difficulty
in obtaining skulls of the walrus, but I observed that the bottom of
Tûseráru, the little pond at the edge of the village, was covered with
old walrus skulls, as if they had been deposited there for years. The
superstition appears to be in full force among the Chukches, who
live near the place where the Vega wintered. Nordenskiöld was
unable to purchase a pair of fresh walrus heads at the first village he
visited, though the tusks were offered for sale the next day 622 and
at Pitlekaj. 623 “Some prejudice * * * prevented the Chukches from
parting with the heads of the seal, though * * * we offered a high
price for them. ‘Irgatti’ (to-morrow) was the usual answer. But the
promise was never kept.”
72. Fig. 421.—Whale flaked from glass.
Amulets.—
Like the Greenlanders 624 and other Eskimos, they place great
reliance on amulets or talismans, which are carried on the person, in
the boat, or even inserted in weapons, each apparently with some
specific purpose, which indeed we learned in the case of some of
those in the collection. Like the amulets of the Greenlanders, they
appear to be 625 “certain animals or things which had belonged to or
been in contact with certain persons (e.g., the people of ancient
times, or fortunate hunters) or supernatural beings,” and “objects
which merely by their appearance recalled the effect expected from
the amulet, such as figures of various objects.” To the latter class
belong the rudely flaked flint images of whales, already mentioned,
and probably many of the other small images of men and animals
already described, especially those fitted with holes for strings to
hang them up by.
The flint whale is a very common
amulet, intended, as we understood,
to give good luck, in whaling, and is
worn habitually by many of the men
and boys under the clothes,
suspended around the neck by a
string. The captain and harpooner of
a whaling crew also wear them as
pendants on the fillets already
described, and on the breast of the
jacket. We obtained five of these
objects, all of very nearly the same
shape, but of different materials and
varying somewhat in size. Fig. 421 represents one of these
(No. 56703 [208] from Utkiavwĭñ) made of a piece of hard colorless
glass, probably a fragment of a ship’s “deadlight.” It is rather roughly
flaked into a figure of a “bowhead” whale, 3.4 inches long, as seen
from above and very much flattened with exaggerated flukes. The
flippers were rudely indicated in the outline, but the left one is
broken off.
73. Fig. 422.—Whale flaked from red jasper.
No. 89613 [771] from Utkiavwĭñ is a very similar image, 2.4 inches
long, which perhaps is of the same material, though it may be made
of rock crystal. No. 56707 [159] from Utkiavwĭñ is a very small whale
(1.4 inches long), chipped in large flakes out of a water-worn pebble
of smoky quartz, while No. 89577 [939] Fig. 422, from the same
village, which is a trifle larger (2 inches long), is made of dark
crimson jasper. The large black flint whale, No. 56683 [61], also
from Utkiavwĭñ, which is 3.9 inches long, is the rudest of all the
figures of the whales. It is precisely the shape of the blade of a skin
scraper, except for the roughly indicated flukes.
Fig. 423 (No. 89524 [1299] from
Utkiavwĭñ) is a rude wooden
image of the same animal, 3½
inches long, very broad and flat-
bellied. It is smoothly carved and
has a fragment of sky-blue glass
inlaid to represent the left eye
and a bit of iron pyrites for the
right. The flukes have been split wholly off and fastened on with a
lashing of narrow whalebone passing through a vertical hole in the
“small” and round the edge of the flukes. The flukes themselves
have been split across and appear to have been doweled together.
This shows that the owner attached considerable value to the object,
or he would not have taken the trouble to mend it when another
could have been so easily whittled out. In the middle of the belly is
an oblong cavity, containing something which probably adds greater
power to the charm. What this is can not be seen, as a band of
sealskin with the hair shaved off has been shrunk on round the
hinder half of the body and secured by a seam on the right side.
A double turn of sinew braid is knotted round the middle of the
body, leaving two ends which are tied together in a loop, showing
that this object was meant to be attached somewhere about the
person.
74. Fig. 423.—Ancient whale amulet, of wood.
To this class also probably belong the skins or pieces of animals
worn as amulets, probably with a view of obtaining the powers of
the particular animal, as in so many cases in the stories related in
Rink’s Tales and Traditions. We frequently saw men wearing at the
belt bunches of the claws of the bear or wolverine, or the
metacarpal bones of the wolf. 626 The head or beak of the gull or
raven 627 is also a common personal amulet, and one man wore a
small dried flounder. 628
We collected a number of these animal amulets to be worn on the
person, but only succeeded in learning the special purpose of one of
them, No. 89532 [1307], from Utkiavwĭñ, which was said to be
intended to give good luck in deer hunting. It is a young unbranched
antler of a reindeer, 6 inches long, and apparently separated from
the skull at the “bur,” with the “velvet” skin still adhering, though
most of the hair is worn off except at the tip. A bit of sinew is tied
round the base.
No. 89522 [1573], from Utkiavwĭñ, is an amulet consisting of the last
three joints of the foot of a reindeer fawn, with the skin and hoof
and about 1½ inches of tendon attached behind, through a hole in
the end of which is knotted about 3 inches of seal thong. No. 89525
[1314] from the same village, is a precisely similar charm. No. 89699
[779] from Utkiavwĭñ , is the subfossil incisor tooth of some
ruminant with a hole drilled through the root for a string to hang it
up by. It was said to be the tooth of the “ug’ru´nû,” a large animal,
long extinct. As the natives said, “Here on the land are none, only
75. the bones remain.” No. 89743 [1110], from Utkiavwĭñ, is a molar
tooth of the same animal, probably, weathered and old, with a hole
freshly drilled through one root and a long piece of sinew braid with
the ends knotted together looped into it. There are also in the
collection two very old teeth which probably were inclosed in little
sacks of skin and worn as amulets.
No. 89698 [1580], from Utkiavwĭñ, is the tusk of a very young
walrus, only 2½ inches long, and No. 89452 [1148] from Utkiavwĭñ,
is the canine tooth of a polar bear. No. 56547 [656], from the same
village, is a similar tooth. 629
The only amulet attached to a weapon, which we collected, is the
tern’s bill, already alluded to, placed under the whalebone lashing on
the seal-spear, No. 89910 [1694]. Perhaps the idea of this charm is
that the spear should plunge down upon the seal with as sure an
aim as the tern does upon its prey. 630
A number of amulets of this class are always carried in the whaling-
umiak. I have already mentioned the wolf-skulls, stuffed ravens and
eagles, fox-tails 631 and bunches of feathers used for this purpose.
Most of these charms are parts of some rapacious animal or bird,
but parts of other animals seem to have some virtue on these
occasions.
For instance, I noticed the axis vertebra of a seal in one whaling-
umiak, and we collected a rudely stuffed skin of a godwit (Limosa
lapponica baueri), which, we were informed, was “for whales.” This
specimen (No. 89526 [1328], Fig. 424, from Utkiavwĭñ) is soiled and
ragged, and has a stick thrust through the neck to hold it out. The
neck is wrapped around with a narrow strip of whalebone and some
coarse thread, part of which serves to lash on a slip of wood,
apparently to splice the stick inside. A bit of white man’s string is
passed around the body and tied in a loop to hang it up by. This
charm is perhaps to keep the boat from capsizing, since Crantz says
that the Greenlanders “like to fasten to their kajak a model of it
* * * or only a dead sparrow or snipe, or a bit of wood, stone, some
feathers or hair, that they may not overset” (vol. 1, p. 216), and
76. perhaps the bone of a marine animal, like the seal, is to protect the
crew from drowning should the boat upset, after all.
No. 89529 [1150] from Utkiavwĭñ is a bunch of feathers to be
carried in the boat. It consists of nine wing feathers of the golden
eagle, four tied in a bunch with a bit of sinew round the quills, four
tied up with one end of the short bit of seal thong which serves to
tie the whole bundle together, one of which has all the light-colored
parts of the feather stained with red ocher, and a single feather shaft
carefully wrapped up in a piece of entrail and wound spirally with a
piece of sinew braid.
Fig. 424.—Amulet of whaling; stuffed godwit.
No. 89527-8 [1327] from Utkiavwĭñ is the charm which will secure
good success in deerhunting if it is hung up outside of the snow
house in which the family is encamped. It consists of two roughly
stuffed skins of the black bellied plover (Charadrius squatarola),
each with a stick run through the body so that one end supports the
neck and the other the tail, and the necks wound with sinew. One
has no head. A string of sinew braid is tied around the body of each,
so as to leave a free end at the back, to which is fastened a little
cross piece of bone, by which it may be secured to a becket. Like
the rest of the amulets in the collection this has evidently seen
service, being very old, worn, and faded.
The other class of amulets, namely objects which have belonged to
or been in contact with certain persons or supernatural beings, or I
may add apparently certain localities, is represented by a number of
specimens. To the custom of using such things as amulets, we
77. Fig. 425.—Amulet
consisting of
ancient jade adz.
Fig. 426.—Little box
containing amulet
for whaling.
undoubtedly owe the preservation of most of the ancient weapons
and other implements, especially those made of wood, bone, or
other perishable substances, like the ancient harpoon heads already
described, one of which, No. 89544 [1419], is still attached to the
belt on which it was worn.
Fig. 425, No. 56668 [308], from Utkiavwĭñ is one
of the ancient black jade adzes 5.1 inches, slung
with thong and whalebone, making a becket by
which it can be hung up. We did not learn the
history of this amulet, which at the time of
collecting it was supposed to be a net sinker.
There would, however, be no reason for using so
valuable an object for such a purpose, when a common beach
pebble would do just as well, unless it was intended as a charm to
insure success in fishing. It may even have been carried as a charm
on the person, since we afterwards saw a still more bulky object
used for such a purpose.
Such an object seems rather heavy to be carried on the person, but
a well known man in Utkiavwĭñ always carried with him when he
went sealing a large pear-shaped stone, which must have weighed
upwards of two pounds, suspended somewhere about his person. It
is not unlikely that this stone acquired its virtue as an amulet from
having been a sinker used by some lucky fisherman in former time
or in a distant country. Mr. H. W. Henshaw has already referred to
the resemblance of this amulet to the plummet-like “medicine
stones” of some of our Indians. 632
Fig. 426, (No. 89534 [1306] from Utkiavwĭñ) is
an amulet for success in whaling. It consists of
three little irregular water-worn fragments of
amber carefully wrapped in a bit of parchment
and inclosed in a little wooden box 1½ inches
long, made of two semicylindrical bits of
cottonwood, with the flat faces hollowed out and
put together and fastened up by three turns of
78. Fig. 427.—
Amulet for
catching fowl
with bolas.
sinew braid round the middle, tied in a loose knot. The box is old
and brown from age and handling. We heard of other pieces of
amber and earth (“nuna”) worn as amulets, wrapped up in bits of
leather and hung on the belt.
No. 89533 [1247], from Utkiavwĭñ, is simply a nearly
square pebble, 1.4 inches long, of dark red jasper,
slung in a bit of sinew braid so that it can be hung
on the belt. Fig. 427 (No. 89525 [1308] from
Utkiavwĭñ) is some small object, placed in the center
of the grain side of a square bit of white sealskin,
the edges of which are folded up around it and tied
tightly round with deer sinew, so as to make a little
round knob. I collected this amulet, and was
particularly informed how it was to be used. If it be
fastened on the right shoulder it will insure success
in taking ducks with the “bolas.” Fig. 428 (No. 89535
[1244] from Utkiavwĭñ) is an amulet whose history we did not learn.
It is a little oblong box 3.3 inches long, carved from a block of
cottonwood, with a flat cover tied on with nine turns of sinew braid,
and contains twenty-one dried humble-bees, which it was said came
from the river Kulugrua. The natives have a great dread, apparently
superstitious, of these bees and the large gadflies (Œstens tarandi),
one of which I have seen scatter half a dozen people. A man one
day caught one of these, and whittled out a little box of wood, in
which he shut the insect up and tied it up with a shred of sinew,
telling Capt. Herendeen that it was “tuɐñamun,” for “tuɐña.”
Fig. 428.—Box of dried bees—amulet.
79. A small lump of indurated gravel (No. 56725) [273] was one day
brought over from Utkiavwĭñ, with the story that it was a “medicine”
for driving away the ice. The man who uses this charm stands on
the high bank at the village, and breaking off grains of the gravel
throws them seaward. This will cause the ice to move off from the
shore.
The essential identity of the amulets of the Point Barrow natives with
those used by the Eskimo elsewhere is shown by the following
passages from other writers. Egede says: 633
A Superstition very common among them is to load themselves with Amulets
or Pomanders, dangling about their Necks and Arms, which consist in some
Pieces of old Wood, Stones or Bones, Bills and Claws of Birds, or Anything
else which their Fancy suggests to them.
Crantz says: 634
They are so different in the amulets or charms they hang on people, that one
laughs at another’s. These powerful preventives consist in a bit of old wood
hung around their necks, or a stone, or a bone, or a beak or claw of a bird, or
else a leather strap tied round their forehead, breast, or arm.
Parry speaks 635 of what he supposes were amulets at Iglulik,
consisting of teeth of the fox, wolf, and musk-ox, bones of the
“kablĕĕarioo” (supposed to be the wolverine), and foxes’ noses.
Kumlien says 636 that at Cumberland Gulf, “among the many
superstitious notions, the wearing of charms about the person is one
of the most curious. These are called angoouk or amusit, and may
be nothing but pieces of bone or wood, birds’ bills or claws, or an
animal’s teeth or skin.” A little girl “had a small envelope of sealskin
that was worn on the back of her inside jacket” containing two small
stones.
Such little pockets of skin sewed to the inner jacket are very
common at Point Barrow, but we did not succeed in any case in
learning their contents. At Kotzebue Sound, Beechey saw ravens’
skins on which the natives set a high value, while the beaks and
claws of these birds were attached to their belts and headbands. 637
Petitot describes 638 the amulets used in the Mackenzie district, in
80. the passage already quoted, as “défroques empaillées de corbeau,
de faucon ou d’hermine.” It is not likely that the use of these is
confined to the women, as his words, “Elles y portent,” would seem
to imply. Among the sedentary Chukches of Siberia amulets were
seen consisting of wooden forks and wood or ivory carvings. 639
A wolf’s skull, hung up by a thong; the skin, together with the whole
cartilaginous portion of a wolf’s nose, and a flat stone, are also
mentioned. 640 Capt. Holm also found wonderfully similar customs
among the East Greenlanders. He says, 641 “bære alle Folk Amuletter
af de mest forskjelligartede Ting” to guard against sickness and to
insure long life, and also for specific purposes. The men wear them
slung round the neck or tied round the upper arm, the women in
their knot of hair or “i Snippen foran paa Pelsen.”
Footnotes 411-641
411. Nordenskiöld, Vega, vol. 2, pp. 122, and Fig. 1, p. 117.
412. Crantz describes the process of preparing boat covers
as follows: “The boat skins are selected out of the stoutest
seals’ hides, from which the fat is not quite taken off; they
roll them up, and sit on them, or let them lie in the sun
covered with grass several weeks, ’till the hair will come
off.” History of Greenland, vol. 1, p. 167.
413. Gilder describes a similar process of manufacturing
these lines at Hudson’s Bay. (Schwatka’s Search, p. 176.)
414. W. J. Sollas, in Jour. Anthrop. Inst. of Great Britain and
Ireland, vol. 9, pp. 329-336.
415. Nordenskiöld’s figures, Vega, vol. 2, p. 123.
416. Parry’s Second Voy., pl. opposite p. 548, Fig. 5.
417. Vega, vol. 1, p. 493.
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