Monday, 13 December 2010

Do Asians really think differently from Westerners?

[This is an earlier version of an article that has now been accepted to Cognitive Linguistics. If you would like to formally respond to it, the article should be cited as Tajima Y. & N. Duffield, ms. Keio University/Konan University. The pre-print version of the article will appear shortly.]

Japanese Versus Chinese Differences in Picture Description and Recall: Implications for the Geography of Thought
Yayoi Tajima and Nigel Duffield
Keio University and University of Sheffield (now Konan University)


Authors’ Note
This research was supported in part by grants from the Mori Foundation. We would like to thank Mutsumi Imai, Yichun Ryo, Gary Wood and Samir Zarqane for their assistance in conducting this study.


Abstract
This study examined whether the grammatical structure of particular languages predisposes speakers to particular attentional patterns. We hypothesized that the holistic attentional bias of Japanese participants in a previous study (Masuda & Nisbett’s (2001), which was attributed to pan-Asian cultural factors, is better interpreted as a consequence of specific linguistic properties: Japanese speakers’ bottom-up discourse strategy. In experiments involving Japanese, English, and Chinese native speakers, it was found that Japanese participants reported more contextual information before explaining the main point, mentioned more background details overall, and recalled background elements significantly more accurately than either English or Chinese participants. The ‘Asian response’ was thus split, as predicted by the Linguistic Relativity hypothesis, but contrary to the expectations of a Cultural Relativity account.

Keywords: field dependency, attention, linguistic relativity, head directionality


Japanese Versus Chinese Differences in Picture Description and Recall:
Implications for the Geography of Thought

The general aim of the present study1 is to contribute to the ongoing debate concerning the extent to which culture and/or language is able to penetrate core areas of cognition—especially visual attention and recall—that were previously viewed as largely impervious to social or linguistic experience. The theoretical impetus for this research is provided by work by Richard Nisbett and his colleagues (Nisbett, Peng, Choi, & Norenzayan, 2001; Nisbett, 2003; Nisbett & Masuda, 2003; Nisbett & Miyamoto, 2005, inter alia), in which Asians2 and Westerners (specifically, European Americans) are claimed to exhibit distinct cognitive styles—holistic versus analytic attention—this difference being reflected in markedly contrasting levels of field-dependence across a variety of experimental tasks. Nisbett and his colleagues argue that this inter-group difference is due to deep-seated cultural attitudes, beliefs and traditions: In the case of Asian groups, their holistic style is explained by reference to a collectivist, inter-dependent tradition and outlook, informed by Confucianism and relative subservience to societal institutions; by contrast, Westerners’ (Midwestern Americans, in the typical case) analytic style is an expression of a more individualistic impulse, informed by traditions of logical thought and self-determination having their origins in classical Athenian culture.

There are numerous prima facie objections to such claims. There is the observation, for instance, that these arguments gloss over any number of intermediate cases—what about, say, the attentional patterns of more collectivized, interdependent Western European groups, for example, contemporary Athenian citizens?, or highly individualistic Taiwanese MBAs? Or that they seem to grossly overstate the degree of intra-group homogeneity on either side of the Pacific. The most significant objection, however, is that in the final analysis they amount to little more than unexplained correlations (nowhere, for example, is it articulated what causal relationship there might be between a preference for syllogistic reasoning and a decrease in field dependence, or how cultural beliefs should effect changes in brain mechanisms implicated in spatial memory). In spite of this, Nisbett’s arguments appear to have gained some traction amongst cognitive anthropologists and psychologists, and for this reason they deserve serious consideration.

To ‘professional outsiders’ such as ourselves, coming from theoretical and applied linguistics, the appeal of Nisbett’s explanation is less obvious. However, it should be noted immediately that our purpose is not to challenge the data, but rather to question the interpretation in terms of immanent culture.

It should also be clear that it is impossible to tackle every part of Nisbett’s thesis at once: There are simply too many potentially related variables to control for. Instead, this paper focuses attention on the specific issues raised by a study reported in Masuda & Nisbett (2001), in which observed contrasts in field-dependence between Japanese and American participants are interpreted in terms of the culturally embedded attitudes and beliefs outlined above, rather than—as suggested below—in terms of formal grammatical differences between the languages spoken by the two participant groups. In brief, our claim will be that Japanese participants behave as they do in visual description and recall tasks primarily in virtue of being speakers of Japanese, rather than in virtue of any pan-Asian cultural affiliation. We shall support this contention by showing that, in three tasks very similar to those presented in Masuda & Nisbett (2001), the ‘Asian Response’ is split apart, with Chinese participants’ responses either patterning with those of the English group, rather than with the Japanese, or else revealing an intermediate response predicted by the linguistic typology articulated below.

Before presenting the study, something needs to be said about language and culture in the present context, since both terms are open to construals that limit—or even negate—the possibilities for empirical research aimed at teasing these factors apart. On the one hand, it is obvious that many substantive properties of language are dependent on the culture of their speakers. For instance, languages whose speakers live in social groups without governmental or religious institutions will not contain words for position-holders within those institutions, fishermen typically have a richer vocabulary of marine life than mountain herders, and so forth. It is plausible, though not yet conclusively demonstrated, that such cultural differences not only impact upon variation in lexical knowledge, but also upon perceptual and discrimination abilities: This is indeed what is claimed in more recent work by Nisbett and his colleagues (Uskul, Kitayama, & Nisbett, 2008).
Related to this issue is the Sapir-Whorf question, whether particular aspects of languages themselves exercise any determining influence on the non-linguistic cognitive capacities of their speakers. This is considerably more contentious, with proponents of stronger versions of the thesis—such as Boroditsky (2001), Bowerman (1996), Pedersen et al. (1998)—opposed to those offering more universalist interpretations of similar data, including Malt, Sloman, Gennari, Shi, & Wang (1999), Li & Gleitman (2002); see Boroditsky (2003), for an overview. What this brief discussion highlights is the importance of identifying formal linguistic factors that can clearly be demonstrated to be orthogonal to cultural ones: In this paper, we propose one such variable (namely, Head-Directionality in phrase-structure).

A different set of problems surround the term culture. One major problem is that it can easily become weakened to the point at which any contingent property distinguishing two groups, however superficial or ephemeral, can be deemed “cultural”. It may seem to be one thing to use the term to refer to a group sharing a common set of distinctive familial, political and religious practices bound by agreed social norms, and whose distinct conventions and traditions are passed on from one generation to the next, and quite another to speak of groups bound by their contingent employment situation or geographical context—the “culture” of first year international students, for example, or of the 1960s, of high-density living, of fast-food workers in suburban strip-malls, of tabloid readers, and so forth. In practice, however, it proves problematic to decide when culture shades into community of practice, or something even less theoretically significant.3

In addition to this, there seems to be a lack of consensus among psychologists, anthropologists, and social scientists about the necessary or sufficient conditions for belonging to a culture, or acculturation. If an individual can be deemed to be influenced by a particular culture after only months, or even weeks, of contact, it again becomes very hard to tease apart the alleged effects of culture from other superficial contextual properties. This suggests that if one wishes to make interesting theoretical claims about the effects of culture on cognition, then the cultural factors called on should have some reasonable permanence and persistence in the life of the individual: Ideally, these should be attributes acquired in early childhood and shared by all eligible members of the cultural group in question.
Unless definitions are restricted in this way, it becomes nearly impossible to distinguish between the effects of environmental and/or occupational factors on attentional mechanisms—effects that are remarkable but not deeply surprising, where they are found—versus the effects of immanent culture. Consider, for example, the finding reported in Maguire et al. (2000), that the posterior hippocampus regions of London taxi-drivers were significantly larger than those of a control group, that the anterior portions were significantly smaller, and that this asymmetry increased with years of taxi-driving experience. Such results provide striking evidence of adult adaptations in brain regions that are associated with spatial memory and navigation. It seems entirely plausible—though this was not tested—that such physiological adaptation is also reflected in increased sensitivity to contextual factors, which in turn could be interpreted as more holistic/field-dependent cognitive style. But it would be wholly misleading to attribute this occupationally actuated change to cultural factors—say, “the culture of taxi-drivers”.

The Original Study
Masuda & Nisbett (2001) conducted an experiment with Japanese and American participants, in which they first presented underwater scenes (termed ‘animated vignettes’) of 20 seconds’ duration, featuring a salient focal fish as well as other smaller objects such as smaller fish, bubbles, shells and rocks (see Figure 1).


Participants were first asked to describe what they had seen. Subsequently, they were presented with different set of object scenes and were asked to judge whether or not the elements depicted in these new scenes were identical to those featured in the original vignette. Figure 2 provides an example of the Figure condition (in which the focal fish was held constant). Some objects were presented with the original background, and others were presented with a neutral or novel background.


The results showed that, with respect to basic description, the Japanese group made about 50% more statements concerning background information and around 70% more statements about inert objects than the American group. While American participants invariably began their descriptions with the salient (focal) object, Japanese participants were much more likely to begin their statements by mentioning background elements (e.g., “There was a pond, and . . . ”). In addition, Japanese participants’ performance in identifying the focal fish was more (adversely) affected by the change of backgrounds; conversely, the Japanese participants reliably outperformed Americans in correctly identifying Ground features of the original scene.

Masuda & Nisbett (2001), Nisbett & Masuda (2003) interpret these results in terms of the aforementioned cultural dichotomy: It is the persisting social and philosophical values of ancient China that predispose Japanese perceivers to holistic attention. However, it is equally possible to interpret these particular findings as due to linguistic, rather than cultural factors, since in this instance there is a confound between language and culture: As we shall show directly, the grammatical and discourse structure of Japanese (i.e., the Japanese language) differs from that of English at least as much as pan-Asian culture differs from that of European Americans.

Towards an Alternative Interpretation: Thinking for Speaking
Dan Slobin’s Thinking For Speaking hypothesis is especially relevant to the present discussion. In a series of papers (Slobin, 1996, 1997, 2000, 2003), Slobin develops the idea that there exists a process of ‘thinking for speaking’, apart from general cognition. He argues that:

The activity of thinking assumes a distinct character when it takes place for speaking, because, in the process of speaking, one needs to adjust one’s thought to immediately available linguistic forms. Each language provides many, but a finite number, of particular words and grammatical constructions to encode reality. In consequence, when one thinks for speaking, one unconsciously focuses on those aspects of objects and events that are most readily encodable in one’s particular language. (Slobin, 2003, p. 157)
The paradigm case of a cross-linguistic difference in event construal concerns the encoding of motion events, and involves the semantic components of path and manner of motion. In research stemming from seminal work by Talmy (1975), see also Talmy (1985, 2000), it has been repeatedly observed that languages may be classified into two types—Verb-framed versus satellite-framed—according to how these two semantic components are lexically encoded. In verb-framed languages (V-languages), such as Spanish and Japanese, path is obligatorily expressed as a component of the verb, while manner of motion is (optionally) expressed as an adjunct phrase; by contrast, in predominantly satellite-framed languages (S-languages), such as English or Dutch, manner of motion is directly encoded on the verb, while path is expressed as a separate preposition (or particle). This contrast is illustrated in (1) and (2) below: In English and Dutch, path is expressed by the satellite element (across, over), while in French and Japanese, the same semantic notion is encoded in the main verb (traverse, wataru), with the manner component expressed as an (optional) adjunct phrase (en nageant, oyoi-de):

(1) a. He is swimming across the river. (English)

b. Hij zwemt de rivier over. (Dutch)
he swim-PRES the river over
‘He swims over the river.’

(2) a. Il traverse le fleuve en nageant. (French)
He cross-PRES the river in swim-GERUND
‘He crosses the river, swimming.’

b. 泳いで 川を 渡る (Japanese)
oyoi-de kawa-o wataru.
swim-BY river-ACC cross-PRES
‘Swimming, (He) crosses the river.’

The crucial point to observe about these examples is that this linguistic typology is orthogonal to broad-scale cultural, geographic, or indeed, genetic affiliation4: In this case, French and Japanese pattern together, in contrast to English or Dutch.

Slobin points out that this formal difference in language structure has important consequences for many aspects of language use, including—most relevantly—for narrative descriptions. For example, it is shown that S-language speakers use manner verbs significantly more often than V-language speakers when describing the same events (see Hsiao, 1999; Özçalışkan & Slobin, 1999); that S-language novels have greater type and token frequencies in situations in which human movement is described; S-language writers, overall, give their readers significantly more information—explicit and inferential—about the manners in which their protagonists move about (Özçalışkan & Slobin, 2000) than do V-language writers. Such observations suggest, at the very least, that one should be circumspect about ascribing differences in narrative description to cultural factors, since these typological groupings, which cross-cut cultural spheres of influence, also show clear correlations with narrative style.
The S-language/V-language parameter is not, of course, the only typological distinction to cross-cut genetic boundaries, nor—although it nicely illustrates our general point—is it the parameter that we consider best explains the Japanese-English contrast obtained in Masuda and Nibett’s (2001) study. Instead, the typological linguistic variable that we believe to be at work here is the Head or Head-Directionality Parameter.

The Head Parameter: Overview
One of the most obvious ways in which languages vary syntactically is with respect to clausal word order—the position of phrasal constituents relative to one another. This type of variation at the clausal level results directly from the Head Parameter: Whether the head element of the phrases that make up a sentence appears to the left or right of its respective complement. In a consistently head-initial language, such as English or French, the verb precedes the direct object in the verb phrase, (temporal and modal) auxiliaries precede the verb phrase, clausal complementizers precede the embedded clause they introduce, and the language has prepositions, rather than postpositions. This is illustrated for English in (3), where in each example the relevant head(s) is/are indicated in bold, their complement phrases in italics:
(3) a. John [VP brokeV the vase ].
b. John [ModalP shouldM [NEGP notNEG [ASPP have [VP broken the vase]]]].
c. John said [CompP thatCOMP [S he hadn’tT brokenV the vase ]].
d. John danced [PP aroundP [NP the room [ inP [NP the palace]]]].

Exactly the opposite order is observed in a head-final language such as Japanese, Korean or Turkish: The verb follows its object; tense and mood affixes are invariably expressed as verbal suffixes (where these appear as auxiliaries, they follow the verb-phrase); complementizers appear to the right of complement clauses; the language is postpositional:5

(4) a. John-ga [VP kabin-o wattaV ].
John-NOM vase-ACC break-PAST
‘John broke the vase.’

b. [TP John-wa [[[VP kabin-o waruV ] bekide-waT ] na-NEG ] kattaT ].
John-NOM vase-ACC break should-NOM not-PAST
‘John should not have broken the vase.’

c. John-wa [ [ kabin-o watteV nai S] toCOMP CP] ittav.
John-NOM vase-ACC broke not COMP say-HAVE
‘John said that he hadn’t broken the vase.’

d. John-wa [[[[ kyuden NP] no P PP] hiroma NP] deP PP] odottav.6
John-NOM palace of room in dance-PAST
‘John danced around the room in the palace.’

In generative theory (e.g., Chomsky, 1981, 1995), only head-complement order is relevant to determining the head-parameter for a given phrase; see, in particular, Travis (1984). In other approaches, however—and especially within the typological framework initiated by Greenberg (1978)—all head-modifier relations are potentially relevant to determining the head-initial or head-final status of the language. Thus, the position of attributive adjectives, relative clauses, possessor phrases, and subordinate adjunct clauses are also taken into account. By all of these measures also, Japanese is consistently head-final.

Not all languages display such consistent cross-categorical harmony in head-modifier order.7 Some languages, for example, project right-headed phrases for one syntactic category and left-headed phrases for another, so that it becomes harder to classify the language overall in terms of a single binary parameter. (Mandarin) Chinese is a case in point.

Huang (1994) provides a useful discussion of Chinese word order. The core facts are illustrated by the examples below, which reveal that Chinese is normally head-initial with respect to verbs and TAM auxiliaries (5a)/(5b)—including the position of clausal complements (5b)—and with respect to prepositional phrase (6), but head-final with respect to lexical noun phrases: Both nominal complements (7a) and nominal adjuncts precede the head-noun; relative clauses are internally headed by a right-peripheral head (7b).8 Once again, in each example the relevant head element is indicated in bold, the complement or modifier in italics:

(5) a. Zhangsan meiyou [VP kanjianV [NP Lisi]].
Zhangsan not-HAVE see Lisi
‘Zhangsan did not see Lisi.’

b. Zhangsan [VP zhidaoV [S Lisi [NEGP buNEG [AP chengshi]]]].
Zhangsan know Lisi not honest
‘Zhangsan knows that Lisi is not honest.’

(6) a. Zhangsan [VP zhuV [PP zaiP [NP Meiguo]]].
Zhangsan live at America
‘Zhangsan lives in the US.’

b. Zhangsan fang-le yi-ben shu [PP zaiP [NP zhuozi-shang]].
Zhangsan put- PERF one- CL book at table-top
‘Zhangsan put a book on the table.’

(7) a. [[[ yuyanxue NP] deP PP] yanjiuN NP]
linguistics DE research
‘the study of linguistics’

b. [[[ni zui xihuan S] deP PP] nei-ben shuN NP] mai-wan le.
you most like DE that-CL book sell-out PERF
‘The book that you like most has been sold out.’

Hence, with respect to purely syntactic properties, English and Japanese represent two ends of a grammatical continuum, with Chinese somewhere in the middle (though much more like English in terms of token frequency, and crucially, with respect to verbal projections).

The question that arises at this point is how this typological contrast—however interesting it may be from a linguistic perspective—should explain the attentional patterns observed in Masuda & Nisbett’s (2001) study: Why should head-finality predispose Japanese speakers to greater holistic attention or field-dependence? There are two responses to this question, the first relatively superficial, with few consequences for linguistic relativism, the second rather more complex, but with more interesting implications for the relationship between language and visual cognition.

Taking the superficial relationship first, notice that one of the dependent measures in the Masuda & Nisbett (2001) study was order of mention: Whether participants first mentioned the focal fish (Figure) or the background context (Ground) in their verbal descriptions. Masuda and Nisbett interpret the elements first mentioned as ‘more salient’ and conclude from the fact that Japanese participants consistently mentioned contextual information ahead of focal information that Japanese group paid greater attention to the field than their American counterparts. Yet, as we have just seen, the grammatical and discourse structure of Japanese virtually guarantees this result: If contextual information is to be mentioned at all, it must be mentioned first, since the main predicate is canonically the final sentential constituent; conversely, the discourse structure of English affords American participants more opportunity to mention focal elements first in their verbal descriptions— wholly irrespective of the relative salience of Figure and Ground in their conceptual representations of the event.

If this observation is valid, then it follows that group differences in order of mention effects do not necessarily speak to the issue of holistic versus analytic attention. More importantly, this observation allows us to formulate clear predictions for a new study involving Japanese, English, and Chinese participants: If grammatical and discourse structure determine order of mention in visual descriptions, then the verbal reports of Chinese participants should be intermediate between the other two groups, patterning more with those of English speakers, significantly more in the Figure-to-Ground order (from head to modifier) than in the case of the Japanese group, who are expected to make descriptions (almost exclusively) in the Ground-to-Figure order (from modifier to head). If, on the other hand, order of mention is determined by cognitive styles that are associated with cultural affiliation, then the Chinese and Japanese groups should pattern with each other more similarly than either does to English. These predictions are explored in the first of the studies reported below.

A more interesting question, however, is whether it is possible to connect this typological difference to the other dependent measures in the Masuda & Nisbett (2001) study (besides order of mention). It will be recalled that order of mention was only one of three measures that distinguished Japanese from American participants. The other two were the number of contextual (Ground) features mentioned by each participant for each description, and—most interestingly still—the number of contextual features correctly recalled in representation of still fragments: Japanese participants not only mentioned significantly more background details, they also remembered better which elements they had previously observed. This last measure, in particular, is not obviously related to linguistic typology.
And yet it might be. What is distinctive about Slobin’s (2003) thinking for speaking hypothesis is the extent to which linguistic structures are assumed to penetrate cognition in various ways. In contrast, for example, to Levelt (1989), who also entertains a form of the thinking for speaking hypothesis, but who supposes that effects of language are restricted to the time of utterance—that is, it is only when one prepares to speak that language affects conceptualization—Slobin (2003) speculates that thinking for speaking effects could extend beyond speech time and may induce speakers to form specific attentional patterns, even in the absence of language. In support of this speculation, Slobin cites the work of Pederson, Levinson et al. (1998):

Far more than developing simple habituation, use of the linguistic system, we suggest, actually forces the speaker to make computations he or she might otherwise not make. . . . That is, the linguistic system is far more than just an available pattern for creating internal representations: to learn to speak a language successfully requires speakers to develop an appropriate mental representation which is then available for non-linguistic purposes. (Pederson, Levinson et al., 1998, p. 586 [emphasis in original])
Thus for example, when we speak English, we are forced to pay attention to gender of third parties, because the language requires gender specification of (singular) pronouns. On the other hand, when we speak Japanese, we are forced to direct our attention to the asymmetric relationships between individuals: elder/younger, senior/junior, or close/remote, because of the language’s honorific systems. As a consequence, English speakers form a habit of attending to gender and Japanese speakers develop a habit of attending to human relations in non-linguistic contexts also. Slobin thus assumes that thinking for speaking effects induce language-specific attentional preferences beyond the linguistic domain.

In the present case, let us assume that the grammatical and discourse structure of Japanese, which is known have effects on syntactic processing and production, leading to bottom-up parsing routines—as opposed to the top-down strategies of English parsing mechanisms (see Fodor & Inoue, 1994; Nakayama, 1999, for discussion), also impacts on conceptual structures. Suppose that, as is the case for syntactic constituents, final conceptual representations (including representations of causality) are constructed—as they are reported—“from the bottom up”, from background context to focal elements/main arguments, as schematized in Figure 3.
Our conjecture, then—extending the Thinking for Speaking hypothesis—that the (top-down vs. bottom-up) parsing mechanisms that implement different (head-initial vs. head-final) grammatical settings are reflected in the speakers’ discourse strategies, which in turn influences their attentional patterns. Japanese speakers build up phrase structure from complements and/or modifiers to heads; in other words, from semantically and syntactically peripheral elements to core elements, in a bottom-up fashion. It plausibly follows from this that Japanese speakers are predisposed to plan and interpret discourse by placing peripheral elements ahead of the main point. This notion is supported by anecdotal observation: When describing, explaining, excusing, arguing, or persuading, Japanese speakers tend to begin their statements with peripheral elements (reasons, situations, and contexts), before referring to the main points (effects, intentions, and conclusions). As a consequence, they may have developed a perceptual habit of attending to the entire field.

In short, our hypothesis is that Japanese speakers are more likely to attend to contextual information primarily because the grammatical and discourse structure of the language requires speakers to mention contextual information ahead of focal information.

As strained as it may appear at first, this hypothesis nevertheless generates rather clear predictions concerning the behavior of Chinese participants in the present study, with respect to the other two dependent variables at stake (viz., number of mentions of background elements/correct identification of background elements in subsequent presentation). If the head-directionality parameter plays a significant role accounting for the differences between Japanese and American participants in Masuda & Nisbett’s (2001) original study, then Chinese participants are expected to pattern with English participants with respect to these dependent measures, splitting the Asian response. It will be clear that Masuda & Nisbett’s cultural explanation predicts a quite different split.

General Method
In order to test the hypothesis outlined above, we constructed two linguistic tasks to compare the verbal descriptions of Japanese, English, and Chinese speakers with respect to foregrounded and backgrounded information. The first task (story-telling) involved explaining the events depicted in a pivotal scene in well-known children’s story books (Anno, 1977; Donaldson & Scheffier, 2007; Ungerer, 1975); the second (picture description) task involved more straightforward description of unfamiliar photographs. Subsequently, as in the Masuda & Nisbett (2001) experiment, fragments of the images previously shown were presented to participants for identification (fragments identification test); the participants were also asked information questions about the photographs they had seen (information recall test).

Participants
The same 120 participants took part in all of the experiments: 43 Japanese native speakers (21 women, 22 men) were recruited from the University of Keio, Japan, 33 English native speakers (23 women, 10 men) from the University of Sheffield, UK, and 44 Chinese native speakers (25 women, 21 men) from the International Study Institute Chukyo, Japan. All of the participants were undergraduate or postgraduate university students, or attended language school students preparing for university entrance, aged 18-30 years old. The Japanese and Chinese participants were tested in Japan, and English participants were tested in UK. All associated language materials were translated, and presented to each group in their own language, by native-speaker experimenters.

Experiment 1
We first conducted a story-telling task to examine the discourse preferences of Japanese, English, and Chinese speakers: Whether contextual information was mentioned before the main point or vice-versa. Given our hypotheses outlined above, it was predicted that the responses of the Japanese group should diverge significantly from those of the other two groups.

Procedure
Participants were presented with illustrations extracted from three well-known picture books for children (Anno, 1977; Donaldson & Scheffier, 2007; Ungerer, 1975) and asked to provide a written description of each of these in their native language, by clarifying when, where, and why the depicted events and situations were taking place. The responses were then coded in terms of the kinds of information included in each description, according to the following descriptors.
  • 1. Main events and situations: description of the main story, explaining what main characters are doing in each scene.
  • 2. Peripheral events and situations: description of the field, explaining what is shown in each scene but is not explicitly related to the main story or the main characters; for example, the moon is shining, the woods are covered with snow.
  • 3. Time: description of the time, explaining when the depicted events and situations were taking place, such as at night, in the daytime, in winter, during summer, and so on.
  • 4. Place: description of the place, explaining where the depicted events and situations were taking place, such as at beach, in the woodland, in a small village.
  • 5. Cause: description of the reason, explaining what had caused the depicted events and situations to occur. Note that only constituents that were explicitly mentioned with markers for causal relations are included in this category, such as because, as, since, therefore, accordingly, so, and so forth.
  • 6. Inferred antecedent events and situations: description of the events and situations that were not shown in each scene but were inferred to have happened before the depicted events and situations occur.

    An example of the responses for Mouse-Shadow picture (see Figure 4) is as follows:
    There is a full moon (2. peripheral events and situations)
    at night. (3. time)
    In a forest, (4. place)
    a rabbit is scared (1. main events and situations)
    because it sees the enlarged shadow of the mouse reflected in the moonlight against the snow. (5. cause) The mouse might have been trying to retaliate on the rabbit, who has always bullied him. (6. inferred antecedent events and situations)

    This sample response was thus coded as 234156. In this way, all of the responses were coded into these six categories and labeled with such serial numbers. The overall measure of interest was the average number of times (out of possible total of three descriptions—one for each picture) that some type of contextual information (2-6) was mentioned ahead of the main point (1), for each language group (Measure 1). We also determined the quantity of contextual information mentioned before the main point; that is, how many contextual descriptions indicating time, place, cause, the field, or inferred antecedent events were made before mentioning the main events and situations across each language group (Measure 2) as well as the relative numbers of different contextual elements overall, in any order of mention (Measure 3).

    Results and Discussion
    All three measures revealed clear and reliable differences among the three language groups. First, Figure 5 shows the average number of times that some kind of contextual information (2-6) was mentioned ahead of the main point (Measure 1), out of total of three responses (one per picture).

     As predicted, the Japanese group were considerably more likely to begin their descriptions with contextual information (M = 2.86) than the Chinese (M = 2.33) and the English group (M = 1.55). An analysis of variance revealed a reliable main effect of Language (F(2, 118) = 21.357, p < .01), with post-hoc comparisons (Bonferroni) showing significant differences between the English and Japanese group and between the English and Chinese group at the p < .01 level, and between the Japanese and Chinese group at the p < .05 level.

    We then investigated the quantity of contextual information mentioned ahead of the main point (Measure 2). Figure 6 shows how many contextual descriptions were made before mentioning the main events and situations by English, Chinese and Japanese participants. Again as predicted, the Japanese group reported the highest number of contextual descriptions before the main events (M = 2.87), followed by the Chinese (M = 2.09) and the English group (M = 1.19). The data were entered into a repeated measures ANOVA with Native Language (3 levels: English, Chinese, Japanese) as the between-subjects variable, and Picture (3 levels: Picture 1, Picture 2, Picture 3) as within-subjects variables, the dependent variable being the number of contextual information reported before the main events and situations. The analysis revealed a reliable main effect of Native Language, F(2, 110) = 19.019, p < .01, with no interaction found between Native Language and Picture. Post hoc tests (Bonferroni) revealed significant differences between the Japanese and English participants and between the Chinese and English participants at the p < .01 level, and also between the Chinese and Japanese participants at the p < .05 level.


    Further analysis revealed that the Japanese participants' tendency to report more contextual information before the main events and situations was especially pronounced in these three areas: Time-, Place-, and Field-related information. Figure 7 shows each percentage of responses where time-, place-, inferred antecedent event-, or the field-related information was mentioned ahead of the main events and situations within each language group. Time-related information was reported ahead of the main point in 79.1% of the Japanese, 59.8% of the Chinese, and 42.9% of the English responses across all the three pictures: Statistically significant differences were found only between the Japanese and English participants,χ2 (4) = 40.187, p < .01. Place-related information was reported ahead of the main events in 82.2 % of the Japanese, 51.2% of the Chinese, and 43.9% of the English responses, with significant differences being found between the two contrasts: English versus Japanese, Chinese versus Japanese, χ2 (4) = 57.333, p < .01. Field-related information appeared prior to the mention of main events in 39.5% of the Japanese, 25.2% of the Chinese, and 11.2% of the English responses, with significant differences only being found between English and Japanese participants,χ2 (4) = 34.844, p < .01. Concerning inferred antecedent events mentioned ahead of the main events, the obtained data were too few to be entered into statistical analysis.



    In addition, Figure 8 shows relative percentage of the cause-effect order in the descriptions including causal relations. As can be seen, both Japanese and Chinese participants showed tendency to mention cause ahead of its effect in explaining causal relations, while English participants clearly preferred to mention effect prior to its cause, χ2 (4) = 54.072, p < .01.

    Finally, Figure 9 shows the overall numbers of different contextual elements reported in participants’ responses, in any order of mention (Measure 3). The results also revealed Japanese participants’ context dependency, with the highest number of contextual elements reported across the three pictures. The data were entered into a repeated measures ANOVA with Native Language (3 levels: English, Chinese, Japanese) as the between-subjects variables, and Picture (3 levels: Picture 1, Picture 2, Picture 3) as within-subjects variables. The analysis revealed a reliable main effect of Native Language, F(2, 110) = 13.579, p < .01, as well as a significant interaction between Native Language and Picture, F(4, 220) = 3.216, p < .05. Post hoc tests (Bonferroni) revealed significant differences between the Japanese and English participants in Picture 1 and 2 at the p < .01 level, and between the Japanese and Chinese groups in Picture 2 and 3 at the p < .01 level, but none between English and Chinese participants in any condition.


    Taken together, these results at once confirm the findings of the Masuda & Nisbett (2001) study—that is, that Japanese speakers clearly prefer to mention more peripheral elements, and earlier in their descriptions, than do English speakers—but they also challenge the previous interpretation—namely, that this difference is the result of some pan-Asian cultural predisposition. The reason, clearly, that these results pose a challenge is that the Chinese group—as predicted by their linguistic typology—exhibit an intermediate behaviour, sometimes patterning with the Japanese participants, for example, with respect to mention of Cause before Effect (Figure 8), sometimes like the English group (e.g., with respect to the total numbers of peripheral items mentioned, shown in Figure 9). In other words, the results show that the bottom-up parsers (Japanese speakers) prefer the bottom-up discourse style and the top-down parsers (English speakers) employ the top-down discourse style, with Chinese speakers located intermediate between the two language groups, as predicted by its grammatical typology.

    The following sample illustrates a typical response of Japanese participants for Mouse-Shadow picture (Figure 4), with abundant contextual information mentioned before the main events and situations:
    ‘It is at night with a full moon shining. In a snowy forest, an animal is walking with a stick searching for food. Then, a little mouse standing on a tree branch, who has been bullied by the bigger animal, hit upon a good idea. With the use of the moonlight, he enlarged his own shadow and casted it onto the ground. The animal, seeing the enlarged shadow, thinks it is a monster and is scared.’

    At the very least, the results of this first experiment lend support to the idea that culture may not be the sole, or even key, determinant of the differences observed in the earlier study. As we shall see directly, the next two tasks offer even clearer reasons for scepticism: Not only do Chinese and Japanese participants behave differently, but the ‘Asian response’ is actually split.

    Experiment 2
    In the second experiment, we conducted two related tasks to determine whether there was any difference in attentional patterns toward the field when making visual descriptions. Our hypothesis was that top-down versus bottom-up parsing patterns embedded in participants’ discourse styles would exercise a larger effect on responses than any cultural affiliation. That is to say, it was anticipated that, as bottom-up parsers (Japanese speakers) need to refer to context first in their discourse, they should attend more to the field than would top-down parsers (English and Chinese speakers); as a consequence, Japanese speakers should mention disproportionately more peripheral elements than central elements—and may recall these better—than either English or Chinese speakers.
    The second experiment comprised two tasks, each with its own dependent measures: a picture description task and a visual recall task. In the picture description task, we presented participants with a set of three color photographs and asked for a written description. The description task served two purposes: first, to discover which visual features of shared scenes participants mention in written reporting; second, simply to show participants the photographs for subsequent recall. Participants were not aware that some parts of the photographs would be extracted and presented again in another set of pictures in the visual recall phase. In the subsequent visual recall task, participants were shown those extracted portions of photographs and asked to judge whether these formed parts of the pictures that they had already seen.

    Experiment 2, Phase 1: Picture Description

    Procedure
    The participants saw three photographs in turn and provided a written description for each of these. The photographs selected for description included both salient focal objects and smaller peripheral objects (see Figures 10, 11, and 12). Participants’ responses were then analyzed to determine which aspects of the photographs were more attended to: central objects or peripheral objects.9




    Results and Discussion
    The participants’ responses are charted in Figure 13. Notice that, as expected, the largest differences are observed in the mean number of peripheral items mentioned by each participant across groups. Here, the Japanese behave once again as predicted, with significantly higher mentions of peripheral items (M = 15.05) than the English group (M = 7.48). Notice in particular that this preference for peripheral items is not shared by Chinese participants, who actually mentioned fewer peripheral elements than even the English group (M = 3.43). The description data were entered into a repeated measures ANOVA with Native Language (3 levels: English, Chinese, Japanese) as the between-subjects variable, and Item Location (2 levels: Central, Peripheral) and Picture as within-subjects variables, the dependent variable being the number of items mentioned. The analysis revealed a reliable main effect of Native Language, F(2, 119) = 50.844, p < .01, as well as a significant interaction between Native Language and Location, F(2, 119) = 32.547, p < .01. The source of this interaction is clearly suggested by the plot in Figure 13.

    Post hoc tests (Bonferroni) revealed significant differences between the Chinese and Japanese participants and between the English and Japanese participants with respect to peripheral items mentioned at the p < .01 level, and also between the Chinese and English participants at the p < .05 level.

    However, the Chinese group's relatively low number of descriptions of the peripheral items might be attributed to the fact that Chinese participants’ total number of descriptions for each photograph was much smaller than the other two groups overall. Therefore, it was also examined whether there was any difference among the three language groups in the ratio of peripheral items to central items mentioned within each language group. The results showed that the ratio of peripheral items to central items mentioned within each language group was 83% (Chinese), 112% (English), and 213% (Japanese), respectively. The results were entered into a repeated measures ANOVA with Native Language as the between-subjects variable, Picture as a within-subjects variable, and the ratio of peripheral items to central items mentioned in each response of each participant as the dependent variable. The analysis again revealed a reliable main effect of Native Language, F(2, 106) = 25.168, p < .01, without any interaction with Picture. Post hoc tests (Bonferroni) revealed significant differences between the Chinese and Japanese participants and between the English and Japanese participants both at the p < .01 level, but none between English and Chinese participants.

    It will be recalled that the focus of Masuda & Nisbett’s (2001) study was on differences between Japanese and English mention of peripheral items (the result, it was claimed, of East Asians’ superior attention to Ground over Figure). In the present study, however, the Chinese group mentioned the lowest number of peripheral items, both in absolute and relative terms. Statistically, the largest differences that were observed distinguished Chinese and Japanese participants, with no statistically significant difference found between Chinese and English participants. The Asian response was thus effectively split, divided by the responses of the English group. Whatever explains this pattern cannot plausibly be related to cultural affiliation.

    Experiment 2, Phase 2: Visual Recall Task
    The final task compared the three groups with respect to visual recall by testing participants’ accuracy in identifying peripheral fragments and recalling information about Ground details. Once again, our hypothesis predicted a split in the Asian response, whereas Masuda & Nisbett’s (2001) cultural interpretation predicted a pan-Asian advantage over the English participant group.

    Procedure
    To construct the visual recall task, peripheral portions were extracted from each of the three photographs shown in the picture description task and from one of the pictures used in the first story-telling task, five portions from each. These extracted fragments (n = 20) were combined with another 20 fragments extracted from novel pictures to create a set of 40 small pictures (2.5 × 2.5 cm): see Figure 14.

    Participants were presented with this set of extracted portions and asked to identify the parts of the pictures that they had already seen in the previous tasks. Each participant’s score was counted according to the number of correctly identified portions: one point for correct identification and equally one point for correct rejection, 40 points in all. Following this identification test, participants were also presented with a forced choice memory test, including questions of the following kind: “In the beach picture, is the balloon yellow or red?” or “In the windmill picture, was the man behind the boy wearing shorts or long trousers?” and so on. There were twelve such questions in all: three questions relating to each of the four pictures used in the identification phase. Thus, this part of the experiment had two dependent measures: (i) number of correctly identified or rejected fragments; (ii) number of correctly answered information questions.

    Results and Discussion

    Figure 15 displays the picture fragments identification scores for the three language groups. As predicted, the Japanese group recorded the highest average score (M = 31.40); this was followed by the English (M = 26.79) and then the Chinese group (M = 22.07). An analysis of variance revealed reliable main effect of Language (F(2,118) = 45.164, p < .01): Post-hoc comparisons (Bonferroni) showed significant differences between the three language pairs, all ps < .01.


    The results for the subsequent forced-choice memory test were also along the same lines (see Figure 16). The Japanese group obtained the highest score (M = 8.02), followed by the Chinese (M = 6.18) and the English group (M = 5.70). Again, a reliable main effect of language was found, F(2,118) = 14.952, p < .01, and again, post-hoc tests (Bonferroni) showed significant differences between the scores for the Chinese and Japanese groups, and the English and Japanese groups both at the p < .01 level, but no difference between the Chinese and English groups.10

    These findings thus clearly demonstrate that there is no common Asian response in the visual recall task: Instead, the Chinese participants pattern to a large degree with the English group, separately from the Japanese group.

    General Discussion
    The experiments reported here examined the attentional biases of Japanese, English, and Chinese speakers across a range of linguistic and non-verbal tasks. Our hypothesis was that top-down versus bottom-up parsing mechanisms would be reflected in the speakers’ discourse strategies, with top-down parsers (English and Chinese speakers) having a preference for top-down discourse patterns—the main point being mentioned before contextual information—and bottom-up parsers (Japanese speakers) building a discourse in which contextual information precedes the main point. These discourse strategies were expected to exercise a larger effect on responses than any cultural affiliation.
    We tested this hypothesis by means of narrative description (story-telling), picture description, and visual recall tasks. In the story-telling task, it was clearly shown that Japanese speakers were more likely to report contextual information before the main point than either English and Chinese speakers, consistent with the linguistic typology. Next, in the picture description and visual recall experiment, it was clearly revealed that Japanese speakers not only reported more background detail, but also recalled details about peripheral information significantly more accurately, than English and Chinese speakers, as evidenced by reliably higher scores on both identification and information recall tasks.
    The present findings across three tasks are thus consistent with the hypothesis advanced here, namely, that the grammatical structure of particular languages predisposes speakers to particular attentional patterns: In other words, these results are consistent with a particular—and rather far-reaching—interpretation of the thinking for speaking hypothesis (Slobin 2003).

    Perhaps more significantly than what these results speak for, is what they speak against: They allow us to reject not only the null hypothesis—that a speaker’s native language has no reliable effect on visual attention and recall scores—but also to reject the alternative hypothesis presented in Masuda & Nisbett (2001), that is, that Japanese participants’ enhanced ability to identify peripheral elements in visual scenes is due to cultural attributes common to Asian cultures. Our experiments show that across all tasks involving visual recall Chinese participants generally behave more like English participants than like Japanese, regardless of cultural affiliation: To reinforce the point—this is in spite of the fact that the test subjects were Chinese students studying Japanese in Japan. Whatever definition of culture one might employ, the expectation must surely be that if cultural factors determine response, these two groups should pattern together. The fact that they did not renders suspect any explanation in terms of immanent cultural values, at least with respect to these data.

    Three final points are worth mentioning. First, as noted above (footnote 1), these are not unprecedented results. The findings of the present study directly confirm those of an independent set of studies reported elsewhere Anon (2010), where again the Chinese group’s results patterned directly with those of the English group and separately from the Japanese across a similar set of description and recall tasks. Thus, in a total of six different tasks, we have found that the Asian response has been split in ways that challenge the cultural relativity explanation, advanced by Nisbett and his colleagues.
    The second point to observe is that these results do not necessarily refute Masuda and Nisbett’s (2001) interpretation of their own data (though such an explanation would be untenable in the present case). Our results, at the data level, are entirely compatible with those obtained by Masuda & Nesbitt for their Japanese and American participants: We also endorse their concluding suggestion that “[typical] Japanese may simply see far more of the world than do [typical] Americans” (Masuda & Nesbitt, 2001, p. 933 [added by authors]). Where we disagree is in respect of the most plausible explanation of this difference. We claim that if the suggestion is true, then it is not primarily because they are East Asians, but because they speak a head-final language, that Japanese speakers may see far more of the world. Such an interpretation would cover both our and Masuda & Nisbett’s findings: The alternative, that a different explanation applies to our respective experiments, seems to be considerably more ad hoc.

    Note that we do not discount the view that cultural traditions may influence modes of perception or categorization in other cases. For example, in other studies, Nisbett and his colleagues have found cognitive (attitudinal and perceptual) differences between ethnic groups of participants sharing a common first language (e.g., monolingual speakers of Turkish in Uskul, Kitayama & Nisbett, 2008; second generation Korean vs. European Americans in Choi, Dalal & Kim-Prieto, 2000): unless the latter participants were also bilingual, then our hypothesis could not be applied to explain such results. All that is claimed here is that observed differences between English and Japanese speakers in these particular types of description and visual recall tasks are better explained in linguistic, rather than cultural, terms: If it were otherwise, Chinese and Japanese participants should pattern together.11

    Notice finally that our hypothesis generates further, testable predictions about cross-linguistic splits and groupings within and across cultural spheres. For instance, given our hypothesis, speakers of Korean, another head-final language, should behave like Japanese participants in visual recall, while Vietnamese and Thai speakers should pattern with the Chinese participants. These predictions will be tested in future experiments. If all effects of language structure, whether it is the grammatical parameter of head position or particular discourse strategy, can be shown to outweigh effects of culture for speakers of other languages, then our results will constitute a significant challenge to this part of the evidence base for cultural relativism.

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    Footnotes
    1 As well as that which immediately precedes it (see Duffield & Tajima 2010). The current study offers a completely new set of experiments, in which we attempted to remedy some methodological shortcomings of the original task. This new experiment (with different participants, materials, and modes of analysis) provides even clearer support for our original hypothesis.
    2 Throughout, following Nisbett’s own practice, the term Asian is taken to refer to East Asian ethnic and national groups (especially Chinese, Japanese and Korean groups), rather than to South Asian groups (which is the British default usage of the term): it is unlikely that Nisbett’s claims are intended to extend to any groups beyond the (historical) Han Chinese sphere of influence.
    3 This problem comes to the fore in respect of Nisbett’s subsequent work on other cultural groups (Uskul, Kitayama & Nisbett 2008): see below.
    4 Other V-languages in Slobin’s survey include Turkish, Spanish, and Hebrew; other S-languages include Mandarin and Russian.
    5 It should be clear that the terms head-initial and head-final are completely independent of writing order: Arabic and Hebrew, for example, are head-initial languages that are written from right-to-left; Turkish is a predominantly head-final language written left-to-right.
    6 The constituent analysis proposed here simplifies, but does not fundamentally misrepresent, the phrase-structure of Japanese (It may be, for example, that the genitive element no and the post-nominal marker de should bear other category labels, but this does not change the fact that adpositional phrases in Japanese are consistently head-final).
    7 The term is due to Hawkins (1990).
    8 We are naturally aware of the fact that many generativist linguists, including Huang himself, would treat Mandarin Chinese as underlyingly head-final in the verb-phrase, with verb-movement deriving the overt head-initial order. Be that as it may, what is relevant here are the surface configurations that provide the instructions for parsing and syntactic production: at this level, Chinese patterns—on balance—more like English than like Japanese.
    9 The items classified as central and peripheral for each photograph in the picture description task are as follows:
    For the Windmill picture (Figure 10), central items are the boy in a yellow T-shirt and the green windmill, while peripheral items are restaurant, table, chair, patrons, trees, shade, European street, passers-by, sunny, summer season, basket, instrument, signboard, pillar, sack, posters, balcony, building, and fallen leaves.
    For the Beach Picture (Figure 11), the central item is the boy smiling in the foreground, while the peripheral are balloon, trees, mountains, beach, pebble, sky, clouds, wind, air, buildings, restaurants, construction, sunny, holiday season, resort, and road.
    For the Bubble picture (Figure 12), the central is the boy with a bubble-maker, while the peripheral are other children, buildings, shops, street, signboard, air, sunny, summer season, the man with a balloon, the girl sitting on the bench, sack, passers-by, floating bubble, windows, lamp, curtain, and wooden floor.
    10 Interestingly, there were only weak correlations for all of the groups concerned between their scores for the identification task and those on the information task (Chinese r = 0.26; English r = 0.13; Japanese r = 0.13). This may suggest that there is no necessary relationship between perceptual knowledge of an event and propositional knowledge about it.
    11 This is not to say that our results have no wider implications for Cultural Relativity arguments, but to stress that this is only a first step of a larger project: Ultimately, it would seem to us desirable to account for all putative effects of broad culture in terms of more tangible and more plausible linguistic or local environmental factors. For example, the expectation that inhabitants of high-density urban environments should pay more attention to peripheral visual information than those who live in smaller communities is both plausible and measurable, indeed this is established in Nisbett & Masuda (2003); however, we do not view this effect as ‘cultural’ in any interesting theoretical sense; see introductory discussion.

    List of Figures

    Figure 2. Sample scene fragments: Focal Fish Condition (from Nisbett and Masuda, 2003).

    Figure 3. Top-down versus Bottom-up parsing mechanisms. This figure illustrates the way in which top-down parsers (e.g., English speakers) first decide the whole sentence structure and then fill each slot with words, whereas bottom-up parsers (e.g., Japanese speakers) begin with laying words, and gradually construct the whole sentence.

    Figure 4. Sample picture used in the story-telling task: Mouse-Shadow picture (Donaldson & Scheffier, 2007).

    Figure 5. Experiment 1 Results (Measure 1): Average number of times that some type of contextual information was mentioned ahead of the main point in the story-telling task by English, Chinese and Japanese participants.

    Figure 6. Experiment 1 Results (Measure 2): Mean number of contextual descriptions mentioned before the main events and situations in the story-telling task by English, Chinese and Japanese participants.

    Figure 7. Experiment 1 Results: Each percentage of responses where time-, place-, inferred antecedent event-, or the field-related information was mentioned ahead of the main events and situations in the story-telling task.

    Figure 8. Experiment 1 Results: Each percentage of responses in which cause was mentioned ahead of its effect (Cause-First) and where effect precedes its cause (Effect-First) in the story-telling task. Only constituents that were explicitly mentioned with markers for causal relations are counted into the data.

    Figure 9. Task 1 Results (Measure 3): Mean number of overall different contextual descriptions reported in the story-telling task, in any order of mention.

    Figure 10. Windmill Picture used in the picture description task: Picture 1.

    Figure 11. Beach Picture used in the picture description task: Picture 2.

    Figure 12. Soap Bubble Picture used in the picture description task: Picture 3.

    Figure 13. Mean number of central and peripheral items mentioned by Chinese, English, and Japanese participants in the picture description task.

    Figure 14. Extracted fragments of pictures used in the identification test of the visual recall task (sample).

    Figure 15. Picture fragments identification scores in the visual recall task (by language group).

    Figure 16: Mean scores for the forced-choice memory test in the visual recall task (by language group).

    Sunday, 28 November 2010

    Loose Ends? Commentary on Sorace

    [This commentary on a position paper by Antonella Sorace has now appeared in Linguistic Approaches to Bilingualism 1: 35-38]

    Writing a commentary that makes an original contribution without being self-serving or carping—or simply rehearsing what everyone else will have written, in poorer prose—is never easy. In the present case, however, the task is rendered particularly difficult by the fact that Sorace has largely done the work for us. Rather than being presented with an article containing radical or overbearing claims, as one typically finds in position papers, we are here asked to comment on what is essentially a self-assessment exercise: a moderate, well-informed and nicely argued discussion of the main claims that would have featured in the position paper, had it existed. But it doesn’t, and in offering in its place her own review, in which all of the obvious criticisms of the IH are addressed and skillfully deflected, Sorace has effectively ‘headed us off at the pass.’ That said, the proposal that emerges from Sorace’s treatment is not completely immune to further criticism: in the limited space remaining, I shall make a couple of specific points that bear on a more general— persisting—concern about the overall proposal, namely, the problem of circularity.

    In order to illustrate the IH, Sorace reviews a series of studies of L2 acquisition and/or L1 attrition by various colleagues and co-workers: in each instance, a near minimal opposition is presented between two superficially similar phenomena: on the one hand, a grammatical construction or property that is easily acquired by second language learners (or is unaffected by attrition), and on the other one that presents some measure of difficulty for near-native L2 learners (and L1 attriters), reflected in unstable or errorful performance vis-à-vis monolingual controls. In every instance, the latter construction is identified as the one involving an interface of some kind, whereas the former calls on ‘narrow syntax’ (either exclusively, or to a larger degree). Though Sorace is generally careful to avoid any explicit claim, the clear implication in each case is that it is the ‘interface properties’ of the construction in question that are responsible for the learners’ difficulty. But it is also true in most cases that it is the relative difficulty of the construction that provides the diagnostic of interface involvement: again by implication, if monolinguals and near-native learners showed complete convergence in performance on a given construction, then interface properties would not be to the fore. The danger of circularity of reasoning should be obvious: in the absence of some principled and independent criteria for defining what an interface is—let alone for distinguishing external vs. internal interfaces—the term ‘interface’ runs the risk of becoming simply a non-explanatory formal label for ‘learner difficulty.’ Sorace is clearly aware of this problem, as most of the article—section 3, in particular—is devoted to trying to unpack the notion of interface. Yet in spite of a sterling attempt, it is hard to escape the conclusion that, ultimately, the tail is wagging the dog: that is to say, the phenomenological or behavioural effects are being used to determine the architecture of the system.

    Aside from the general worry produced by this form of argumentation, working from constructional evidence to theory brings with it some more specific theoretical and methodological difficulties. One such problem is that of cross-linguistic generalization: what to do if the constructional properties associated with core or interface in one grammar are aligned slightly differently—or even in a reverse fashion—in another. A case in point arises in Sorace’s treatment of contrasts between Topicalisation vs. Focus constructions in Italian and Greek. In discussing the apparently contradictory results of Tsimpli and Sorace (2006), whose Greek learners showed no difficulty with Focus constructions, but instability with Topicalisation vs. those of Belletti (2007), whose Italian learners showed difficulty with narrow focus constructions, Sorace suggests that the contrary results may indicate that Greek and Italian Focus constructions are not in fact formally identical (‘[implying] the need for a more fine-grained differentiation among interface conditions’.] If this is the case, though, then one or other set of contrasts must be abandoned as diagnostic of a formal interface: either way around, it seems, the problem of circularity raises its head.

    Matters become still more complex with respect to the Topic/Focus distinction when we look a little further afield, to ‘Topic-prominent’ languages such as Vietnamese, in which null arguments are licensed and identified not by verbal agreement, but exactly by (overt and non-overt) Topic arguments. As the following examples from Cao Xuân Hạo (1992:145) clearly demonstrate, pro subjects in Vietnamese are exclusively licensed by preceding topics, rather than by subjects: the (a) examples make sense because the ‘hanging topic’ (1a), and topicalized shifted object in (2a) provide appropriate antecedents for the null arguments in the following clause; by contrast, the topicalized subjects in the (b) examples are inappropriate as antecedents, giving rise to interpretive anomalies:

    (1)  a.              Xã      bêni       ruộng       tốt    nên proi  rất giàu.
                            village side     rice-field  good should     very rich
                            ‘As for the neighbouring village [Topic], its rice-fields [Subject] are good (fertile), and therefore it [pro subject = the village] is very rich.’

           b.       [*Ruộng của    xã         bên]i tốt nên [pro]i rất giàu.
                      rice-field poss village side good should very rich
                     #’The neighbouring village’s rice-fields [Subject/Topic] are good (fertile), and therefore they [pro subject = the rice-fields] are very rich.’

    (2)     a.     Ông nàyi  tôi quen   nhưng proi không   phải    là     bạn  tôi.
                      man dem  I  know   but               neg  right  cop friend    I
                      ‘As for this man [Topic], I [Subject] know (him), but he [pro subject = the man] is not my friend.’

              b'.      *Tôi quen ông này nhưng [pro] không phải là bạn tôi.
                        I know man dem    but               neg right cop friend I
                        #‘I [Topic = Subject] know this man, but I [ pro subject = I] am not my friend.’

    These examples, however, seem to force the conclusion that Topicalisation in Vietnamese (and other null-topic languages) is functionally equivalent to null subject licensing in Italian, which Sorace definitely assumes to be a core syntactic process, certainly, one in which ‘errors involving misuse and misunderstanding of null subject pronouns are not attested: both native and near-native speakers of Italian have a clear and determinate preference for the subject of the matrix clause as the antecedent of the null subject pronoun.’ This begs the question of how to treat East Asian Topicalisation: as equivalent to Italian Topicalisation constructions (high interface involvement) or, as equivalent to Italian null-subject licensing (low interface involvement)? The predictions for near-native learners are entirely unclear: what we certainly can’t do is to let their behaviour decide.

    In short, though the IH is better looking than ever before following Sorace’s rigourous self-analysis, there is still something unsettling about it: while it may be that more data will help to decide the issues, in the absence of some more principled criteria, scepticism will remain.(Cao 1992)

    Reference

    Cao, X. H. (1992). "Some preliminaries to the syntactic analysis of the Vietnamese sentence." Mon-Khmer Studies 20: 137-152.

    Wednesday, 17 March 2010

    Roll up for the mystery tour!

    This commentary on Evans and Levinson (2009) has recently appeared in a special issue of Lingua. Please cite as: Duffield, Nigel (2010) Roll Up for the Mystery Tour! Lingua 120, 2673-2675.

    Roll up for the Mystery Tour (Click to play)

    There's a danger zone, not a stranger zone
    Than the little plot I walk on that I call my home
    Full of eerie sights, weird and skeery sights
    Ev'ry vicious animal that creeps and crawls and bites!!

    On the Amazon, the prophylactics prowl
    On the Amazon, the hypodermics howl
    On the Amazon, you'll hear a scarab scowl, and sting
    …zodiacs on the wing…

    Excerpt from ‘On the Amazon.’ Grey/Newman/Ellis.

    E&L’s rich polemic against Language Universals and Universal Grammar provides an entertaining, at times dazzling, performance that is most reminiscent of modern representations of the Victorian side-show: for those of us of a certain age, the fairground scene in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang! meets Sgt. Pepper (Being for the benefit of Mr. Kite), as we are presented with all manner of linguistic exotica, from languages bereft of consonantal onsets (Arrernte), to those defying the normal laws of constituency relations (Jiwarli), to those allegedly lacking even the most fundamental grammatical attribute, recursivity (Piraha). If, at its worst, E&L’s article evokes the freak show, it also calls to mind the very best in nature documentaries, the image of Pablo Fanque replaced by David Attenborough in the rain forest, crouching over some particularly unlikely, exquisitely adapted, tree frog. Whichever allusion is the more appropriate, this is fascinating material, which should convince even the most agoraphobic armchair linguist of the phenomenal wealth of grammatical diversity that still remains out there (even at a such a late stage of language extinction).

    Yet, for all that E & L make an irrefutable case for diversity, their case against generativist linguistics in general—and Universal Grammar in particular—is much less persuasive. Given space constraints I shall restrict attention to what I view as three critical failures of argumentation, involving two misunderstandings about the content and locus of UG, and a mistaken assumption about the theoretical significance of surface diversity. As a consequence of this mishandling of the brief, Universal Grammar—to continue the legal metaphor—walks free from the courtroom.
    One of the more obvious misunderstandings of the paper emerges from E&L’s discussion of the notion of grammatical subject (Section 4), where it is argued clearly but otiosely that the notion of subject most relevant to describing surface constructions in English cannot be applied directly, or in any way appropriately, to the description of the grammars of other languages. Regarding subjects, E&L write (2009: 440):
    ‘[L]inguists have also known for some time that the notion “subject’ is far from universal, and other languages have come up with strikingly different solutions… Having a [unified] subject relation is an efficient way to organize a language’s grammar because it bundles up different subtasks that most often need to be done together. But languages also need ways to indicate when the properties do not coalesce…Given languages like Dyirbal, Acehnese or Tagalog, where the concepts of ‘subject’ and ‘object’ are dismembered in language-specific ways, it is clear that a child pre-equipped by UG to expect its language to have a ‘subject’ could be sorely led astray [emphases mine: NGD].’
    It is not clear what type of UG E&L have in mind, but it cannot be the generativist conception, given that one of the hallmarks of mainstream generativism since very early on in the development of the theory—at the very latest since Chomsky (1981)—has been precisely its rejection of subject as a unified concept. This is most clearly stated in the following paragraph from McCloskey (2001):

    …[I]n the intellectual tradition represented by the frameworks of ‘Government and Binding’, ‘Principles and Parameters’ and the ‘Minimalist Program’, the notions [‘subject’ and ‘object’: NGD] play no (recognized) role at all. That tradition has always insisted that talk of ‘subjects’ and ‘objects’ is either illicit or casual, and that reference to such terms is to be cashed out in terms of more primitive notions (phrase-structural measures of prominence, featural properties of heads, the theory of A-movement and so on)… McCloskey (2001: 157).

    Generativists might disagree with functionalists about precisely which grammatical primitives interact to yield epiphenomenal ‘subject effects’ (even though—somewhat ironically—E&L’s tri-partite distinction (topic/agent/pivot, p. 40) is commonly accepted, if differently formalized), but there is really no general disagreement about whether ‘subject’ has any theoretical status. It follows from this that no generative acquisitionist assumes—as E&L appear to—that a child “equipped by UG” would expect his language to have a subject, for the simple reason that this is never claimed to be part of UG.

    If E&L misunderstand the content of UG, they also appear to misunderstand its ontology (in the computer science sense of the term): specifically, the relationship between UG and properties of end-state grammars. As Chomsky and others have repeatedly tried to articulate—albeit with changes in terminology over the years—UG is a theory of the initial state, which Chomsky now terms FL (Faculty of Language), not of any particular endstate grammar (LEnglish, LJiwarli, LPiraha, etc.,). That UG/FL is ontologically distinct from any particular L is clear from this recent quote:
    ‘I understand L (for me, some variety of English) to be an attained state of a genetically-determined faculty of language FL…’ (Chomsky, cited in Stemmer 1999: 1)’
    The problem is not merely that UG is not claimed to be a property of final state grammars, but that it need not even be definitional of these grammars. As far back as the mid-seventies, Chomsky entertains the idea that the core properties of final state grammars are not exclusively, or even mainly, determined by UG principles:
    ‘I have been assuming that UG suffices to determine particular grammars (where again, a grammar is a system of rules and principles that generates an infinite class of sentences with their formal and semantic properties). But this might not be the case. It is a coherent and perhaps correct proposal that the language faculty constructs a grammar only in conjunction with other faculties of mind. If so, the language faculty itself provides only an abstract framework, an idealization that does not suffice to determine a grammar (Chomsky 1975: 41) [emphasis mine: NGD].’

    Now, obviously one can take issue with the idea of any apriori knowledge of language, whether in the form of autonomous syntactic principles (Move, Merge, etc), as theories of UG/FL would have it, or in any other form (e.g. Slobin 1973, Bickerton 1984, Klein & Perdue 1997, amongst others): most cognitivists, for example, reject the idea of any crosslinguistic consistency in the initial state of language acquisition; see e.g. Tomasello 1995). In the end, whether UG exists and what form it takes are—or should be—empirical questions, albeit difficult ones. However, the crucial point here is that facts about attained, endstate grammars bear only tangentially on theories of UG. Baldly stated, the absence of Language Universals—granting for the sake of argument that these are a ‘myth’—does not imply the absence of UG. This is not simply an issue of abstractness (as E&L seem to believe, in their disparaging comment ‘expert linguistic eyes can spot the underlying common constructional bedrock, p. 432’). It is, rather, a category error: no matter how deep one digs into mature grammatical systems, there is no logical reason to expect that one will excavate UG in any recognizable form, any more than one should discover universal principles of embryology through an in-depth study of mature organisms.

    The final point to address is less a direct misunderstanding about UG than an implicit misconception that runs throughout the paper, namely, the idea that surface diversity presents some kind of prima facie threat to proponents of UG, that UG is challenged in direct proportion to the divergence between English and the weirdest, most exotic alternatives. In fact, quite the opposite is true: UG thrives—indeed depends—on diversity. This is so for two reasons. The first is an epistemological one: if it is true that children acquiring language settle quickly and effortlessly on uniform endstate grammars regardless of the properties of the language being acquired, then the case for innate grammatical knowledge is strengthened the greater the variability in the final state rule-systems and in the external conditions of language acquisition. Looked at the other way around, if there were clear and obvious Language Universals manifest in all end-state grammars—and, especially, if these universals could be explained in external, functionalist terms—there would be no need for UG to explain uniform convergence. This wouldn’t mean that the theory was incorrect, just that it would be less necessary. (It’s not a mystery that trains invariably end up at a railway station, rather than wandering at will all over the countryside: it’s rather trickier to explain the directed behaviour of migratory species of birds or fish without appeal to some innate principles: see Dresher 1997, for discussion). The second reason that diversity is good for UG is that whenever UG principles do find surface expression—and pace E&L, I believe these kinds of universals can be shown to exist, see the commentaries by Baker, Pesetsky, Pinker & Jackendoff, amongst others—then the greater areal and typological distance between two varieties showing common traits, the more compelling the case for UG becomes. To draw on a final analogy to genetics: the fact that the DNA of all humans is 99.9% identical—regardless of race, gender or provenance—is less compelling evidence of the genetic uniformity of all organic life than the fact that we share 50% of our genes with a worm (C. elegans).

    In short, Evans & Levinson may offer us ‘eerie sights, weird and skeery sights’, but there’s little here to truly terrify the stouthearted generativist.

    References
    Bickerton, D., 1984. ‘The Language Bioprogram Hypothesis’, The Behavioral and Brain Sciences 7.
    Chomsky, N., 1975. Reflections on Language. New York: Pantheon.
    — 1981., Lectures on Government and Binding: the Pisa Lectures. Dordrecht: Foris Publications.
    Dresher, E., 1997. ‘The Geese re-think Innateness.’ GLOT International 2, 8-9.
    Klein, W., Perdue, C., 1997. The Basic Variety (or: Couldn't natural languages be much simpler?) Second Language Research 13, 301-347.
    McCloskey, J., 2001. On the distribution of subject properties in Irish. In Davies, W., Dubinsky, S., (eds.) Objects and Other Subjects. Kluwer, Dordrecht, pp. 157-224.
    Slobin, D., 1973. Cognitive prerequisites for the development of grammar. In Ferguson, C, Slobin, D., (Eds.), Studies of child language development. Holt, Rinehart & Winston. New York, pp. 175-208.
    Stemmer, B. 1999. An on-line interview with Noam Chomsky: on the nature of pragmatics and other issues. Brain and Language 68, 393-401. < http://cogprints.org/126/0/chomsweb_399.html, > accessed 1/03/10.
    Tomasello, M. 1995. “Language is not an instinct”. Cognitive Development 10: 131–156.

    Thursday, 28 May 2009

    Minimalist Angst

    I'm trying to write the introduction to a new monograph on Vietnamese: to do this, unfortunately, I have to make sense of current Minimalism. This is not easy, even for those more talented than I am, but—given that the subtitle of the work will be An Alternative Minimalist Analysis of Vietnamese Phrase Structure—I have no choice but to give it a shot. Here is an informal reflection on the topic, some parts of which I may be able to use:

    'I must say that, like many people, I find a lot of Minimalist writing exceptionally dense. This may be for good reason—and it may just be too hard for me—but I have a sense that it's unnecessarily obscure and convoluted, and that much of the difficulty stems from two considerations: first, that Minimalism, up to 1999 at least, was a reductionist programme aiming to dismantle what was viewed as its too complex predecessor. Yet if the general spirit of Minimalism is correct, we shouldn't have gone there in the first place. Early minimalism reads more like a set of suggestions to Linux users on how to debug Windows 95. To which the appropriate response might well be: why bother? One possible reason is that this reductionism was early Minimalism's only real raison d'etre, and for many people this still seems to be the case: GB wasn't obviously broken on the empirical side of things, and certainly Minimalism has done little to improve or expand empirical coverage, so the main justification for it seems to have been an exegetical house-keeping exercise aimed at simplification for its own sake. (I'm reminded of a university friend of mine, now a distinguished philosophy professor, who dismantled a Mini engine, and put it back together in working order leaving out about 20 redundant components. He found this result immensely satisfying, as it may have been, but it didn't really extend his engineering knowledge, or come to that, make a better car: indeed, the redundancy may have been engineered in).

    Leaving the analogy before it quickly collapses, I'll move to the second consideration as to why I think Minimalism is so hard, namely, because there is no consensus on which empirical facts it is supposed to derive. Indeed there is little consensus of whether it should have any empirical coverage at all with respect to end-state grammars. This uncertainty has had particularly deleterious consequences for language acquisition research, such that, as far as I can make out, no-one is doing empirical Minimalist studies of the acquisition of syntax. Rather, the language acquisition field has fragmented into two groups: on the one hand, those who continue to do GB-style acquisition, but call it "Minimalist" (as the new cover term for generative), and on the other, those like Stephen Crain, Andrea Gualmini and others for whom post LF-semantics is the new syntax. The uncertainty has also led researchers like Culicover (who I think makes some excellent headway in trying to cut to the chase, or better, finding some chase to cut to) to draw such distinctions as that between "Abstract" and "Concrete Minimalism". Personally, I'm not optimistic that Minimalism has a future in the language acquisition area until someone clearly spells out what it's supposed to do or explain. Moves, such as the ploy critiqued in Atkinson (2001), in which previously syntactic phenomena are dumped into PF (faute de mieux) are again reminiscent of the strong UG lobby in SLA, where mismatches between native-speaker and L2 learners were previously written off as due to processing errors or pragmatics. If it really has no empirical teeth, or even empirical aspirations, Mainstream Minimalism not likely to win over many voters in the long term.'

    If you have any thoughts on this rant, please let me know.