Social dialectology: in honour of Peter Trudgill

Social Dialectology

Impact: Studies in language and society IMP ACT publishes monographs, collective volumes, and text books on topics in sociolinguistics. The scope of the series is broad, with special emphasis on areas such as language planning and language policies; language conflict and language death; language standards and language change; dialectology; diglossia; discourse studies; language and social identity (gender, ethnicity, class, ideology); and history and methods of sociolinguistics.

General Editor

Associate Editor

Annick De Houwer

Elizabeth Lanza

University of Antwerp

University of Oslo

Advisory Board Ulrich Ammon

Richard A. Hudson

Gerhard Mercator University

University College London

Laurie Bauer

William Labov

VICtoria University ofWellington

University of Pennsylvania

Jan Blommaert

Joseph Lo Bianco

Ghent University

The Australian National University

Paul Drew

PeterNelde

University ofYork

Catholic University Brussels

Anna Escobar

Dennis Preston

University of Olinois at Urbana

Michigan State University

GuusExtra

Jeanine Treffers-Daller

Tilburs University

University of the West of England

Margarita Hidalgo

Vic Webb

San Diego State University

University of Pretoria

Volumel6

Social Dialectology: In honour of Peter Trudgill Edited by David Britain and Jenny Cheshire

Social Dialectology In honour of Peter Trudgill

Edited by

David Britain University of Essex

Jenny Cheshire Queen Mary, University of London

John Benjamins Publishing Company Amsterdam/Philadelphia

0 ,™ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements ~

of American National Standard for Information Sciences- Permanence of Paper fur Printed Library Materials, ANSI z39.48-1984.

Libnry of Coapaa Catalopas-in-Publkation Data Social dialectology: in honour of Peter '1\udgill/ edited by David Britain and )eDDy Oleshire.

p. an. (Impact: Studies in lanJWIF and society, USN 1385-7908 ; v. 16)

Indudes bibliographial remnces and indexes. I. Dialectology. 2. Sociolinguistics. I. '1\udgill. Peter. II. Britain, David. m. Cheshire. Jenny, 1946- VI. Series. P367. 5626 2003 417'.2-dc:21 ISIN 90 272 1854 4 (Eur.) /I 58811 403 1 (US) (Hb; aDt. paper)

2003050287

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Table of contents

Acknowledgements Introduction

IX 1

David Britain and Jenny Cheshire Pursuing the cascade model

9

WiUiam Labov Complementary approaches to the diffusion of standard features in a local community

23

Juan Manuel Herndndez-Campoy Systemic accommodation Dennis R. Preston

39

New dialect formation: The focusing of -kum in Amman

S9

EnamAI-Wer Variation and sound change in New Zealand English

Margaret Madagan and Elizabeth Gordon An East Anglian in the South Atlantic? Interpreting morphosyntactic resemblances in terms of direct input, parallel development, and linguistic contact

81

Daniel Schreier Sociolinguistics of immigration J. K. Chambers

97

Why fuude is not 'food' and tschi!gge is not 'check': A new look at the actuation problem

us

Richard J. Watts Parallel development and alternative restructuring: The case of weren't intensification

Walt Wolfram and Natalie SchiUing-Estes

131

VIU

Table of mntents

Social and linguistic dimensions of phonological change: Fitting the pieces of the puzzle together Lesley Milroy

ISS

Changing mental maps and morphology: Divergence caused by international border changes MiklOs Kontra

173

Exploring the importance of the outlier in sociolinguistic dialectology David Britain

191

When is a sound change? On the role of external factors in language change Jim Milroy Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English Paul KerswiU

223

Social dimensions of syntactic variation: The case of when clauses Jenny Cheshire

245

Language variation in Greece Maria Sifianou

263

A Norwegian adult language game, anti-language or secret code: The Smoi ofMandal Ernst Htlkon ]ahr

275

Children and linguistic normativity Slu.Jron Millar

287

The virtue of the vernacular: On intervention in linguistic affairs Henry Widdowson and Barbara Seidlhofer

299

The Nynorsk standard language and Norwegian dialect varieties ]an Terje FtUUlund

3U

Peter 'frudgill's publications

327

Index

339

Acknowledgements

First, we want to warmly thank Kees Vaes of John Benjamins and Annick De Houwer, the editor of the IMPACf series, for their support for our desire to honour Peter Trudgill's work in sociolinguistics, and their belief in the project. It was they who suggested a volume that specifically honoured Peter's work in social dialectology- a field which Peter helped to found. Second, we thank all the contributors for their co-operation in providing us with such good chapters on this theme, for acting as anonymous reviewers for the individual chapters, for helping us to meet the stringent deadlines, and for bearing with us as we tried to battle with what seemed like 20 different sets of phonetic fonts! It has been a pleasure to work with them. Our most heartfelt thanks go to Jean Hannah for giving us the benefit of her professional expertise in editing and preparing manuscripts for publication, and for somehow managing to do all the work that was needed without Peter noticing. Without Jean's help, this volume would certainly not have been produced in time to celebrate Peter's 60th birthday - we are very grateful to her indeed. This volume is to be presented to Peter at a special conference, bringing him together with all the contributors, at the University of Murcia in Spain, in November 2003. We'd like to thank Prof. Jose Maria Jimenez Cano and Prof. Juan Manuel Hernandez Campoy, the organisers of the conference on Directions in Sodal Dialectology, for initiating and staging such an event in Peter's honour. Finally, of course, we want to record our gratitude to Peter, without whom neither of us would ever have produced this volume (nor, indeed, any published work of any kind). We feel we can speak for all the contributors and for his many friends, students and colleagues throughout the world in thanking him for his inspiration and his friendship, wishing him a very happy 60th birthday, and in looking forward to many more years of stimulating research both in social dialectology, and in sociolinguistics more broadly.

Introduction* David Britain and Jenny Cheshire University of Essex I Queen Mary, University of London

Peter 'Iiudgill is 60 years old on November 7, 2003. His career has coincided with the development of dialectology from a discipline with a focus on rural, archaic varieties of language to one that studies the contemporary varieties of complex urban and rural communities alike and that deals with issues that no scholar of language can afford to ignore. These issues encompass the nature of sociolinguistic variation, the processes of language change, the in1luence of standard varieties and of standardisation, and, more recently, the understanding of language contact and dialect contact, of new dialect formation and language isolation. Peter 'Iiudgill has, of course, carried out in1luential original research of the highest standard in all these aspects, and more, of what is now often referred to as social dialectology; he has, to a large extent, shaped the direction of the discipline. He has also worked to define the field, to standardise terminology and clarify concepts, and to inform the public and eradicate prejudice and ignorance about social and regional dialects. Contemporary social dialectology owes a great deal to his work, and there are good reasons, therefore, for using the occasion of his 60th birthday to publish a volume of specially commissioned papers on topics that are currently preoccupying researchers in this field. One aim of the proposed volume, then, is to honour the contribution that Peter Trudgill has made to the field of social dialectology. A second, equally important aim, is to provide an indication of some of the main trends and issues in the field some forty years after the 'new turn' in social dialectology (which we date from the publication of Labov's The Social Stratification of English in New tork City, in 1966). The chapters in this volume all deal, then, with language variation and change. Most of them make theoretical or general methodological points as

2

David Britain and Jenny Olesbire

well as describing one or more specific examples of linguistic variation or change. We have not attempted to organise the volume as a whole into separate sections, since most of the papers would straddle more than one. Instead, we outline in this introduction some of the main points made in the separate chapters, and by doing so indicate some of the main concerns of contemporary social dialectology. This brief introduction, as readers will discover, cannot fully do justice to the richness of these contributions from some of the world's leading variationists, which serve, we believe, as a fitting tribute to Peter Trudgill's extraordinary contribution to research in language variation and change. One issue that bas always preoccupied dialectologists is charting and attempting to explain the spatial diffusion of innovative forms. 1iudgill was a pioneer in adopting gravity models from human geography and adapting them to incorporate sociolinguistic factors. This strand of social dialectology is represented in the chapter from William Labov, which explores the gravity model ofdiffusion and the more general cascade model to explain the spread of new vocabulary forms in Philadelphia and Pittsburg in the United States. Juan Manuel Hemmdez Campoy, furthermore, uses the gravity model in his chapter to account for the spread of standard pronunciations at the expense oflocal, non-standard forms in the region of Murcia in southeastern Spain. Both chapters show the importance of taking account of social factors. Labov points out that we need to know more about how adults can influence the speech of others and how they can shift their own practices, long after the critical period oflanguage learning is over and long after the vigorous acquisition of new forms in adolescence. Hemmdez Campoy shows that some local forms are more salient indicators of local identity than others, and that this crucially affects the rate and extent of diffusion. Social dialectology differs from traditional dialectology in its shift of focus from rural, settled communities to communities characterised by immigration and mobility. Peter Trudgill's 1986 work on dialects in contact provided a rich framework for investigating processes of variation and change in communities of this type, and many of the contributions in this volume use this framework to advance our understanding of the mechanisms involved. Dennis Preston's chapter lays the groundwork for more detailed accounts of the development of a koincHsed phonological system in Michigan. He notes that similar phonological systems follow similar paths to the same outcome, but not when the social arena mitigates against this. Thus the emerging systems of the African American migrants in his studies show some accommodation to a regional norm, but retain some phonological distinctions of the original dialect as an expression of ethnic identity. Enam AI-Wer assesses the importance of markedness

Introduction

and simplification as processes determining the outcome of dialect contact and accounting for new dialect formation in Amman, the capital city of Jordan. Her analysis of a morphological change in ~anr highlights the parallelism between the development of a regional identity by the younger generation of speakers in the community (both of Jordanian and Palestinian origins) and the emergence of a distinct and focussed new variety. Margaret Maclagan and Elizabeth Gordon discuss the development of the distinctive variety of English spoken in New Zealand, focusing on the internal variability in the speech of individual speakers that occurs at a crucial stage in the formation of the new dialect. They note that researchers usually disregard free, or random variation in the speech of individuals; their analyses, however, show that it can be both a symptom that the language is changing and a part of the process of change. Daniel Schreier discusses the evolution of present tense marking in the English spoken on the island of 'Ilistan da Cunha in the South Atlantic Ocean. Comparing this with Trudgill's account of the development of the 'same' feature in Norwich English he observes that levelling processes may seem identical on the surface but have different system-internal constraints. indicating that contact-induced mechanisms operate independently in different varieties. In the development of present tense marking in the English of Norwich and 'Ilistan da Cunha language contact emerged as a relevant factor. Jack Chambers' contribution to the volume gives full weight to the role of language contact in processes of linguistic change. He points out that immigration is likely to become the social norm in all the developed countries, and that it could even become the main touchstone for social dialectology. For example, he notes that variants in the native speech of(otherwise) linguistically assimilated second or third generation speakers of English can become stable features of the region rather than of ethnicity. Richard Watts focuses on a specific case of language contact in his investigation of the integration of English loan words into German dialects spoken in Switzerland. He argues for the importance of loose social networks in accounting for the diffusion of the innovations. and addresses the actuation problem by considering the social, cultural and political climate of the period when a significant body of loan words appears to have been introduced. A sign that social dialectology is maturing as a discipline is that scholars are now able to compare the results of a range of studies in order to locate and explain parallel developments. Most of the authors we have mentioned so far compare their findings with others. Walt Wolfram and Natalie SchillingEstes' chapter, however, is an explicit comparison of the ongoing restructur-

3

4

David Britain and Jenny Olesbire

ing of was/were variation in a range of southeastern US communities and in

the British Fens (as analysed by David Britain). They identify linguistic conditions affecting the restructuring: specificaUy, the reduction of allopbony and the existence of negativity as a linguistic prime. As always in social dialectology, the social dimension must be taken into account: in this case Wolfram and Schilling-Estes argue that a special set ofsocial circumstances are also necessary to ensure the survival and spread oflevelling to weren't, one ofwhich appears to be its relative lack of salience as a symbolic marker of various types of identity. As Lesley Milroy points out in her chapter, some researchers are now going beyond the time-honoured global social categories of social class, gender and etbnidty to consider bow relevant social categories are aeated locally and how - or if- they map onto the conventional global categories. Social categories are then seen as ideologically-driven processes; and this, she shows, can throw new light on processes of language change. It bemmes possible to distinguish between global, ideologically free changes and local, ideologically-driven changes. Global changes may be intemaBy motivated or may be attributable to dialect levelling processes occurring independendy in speech communities widely separated by space and time; local, ideologically-driven changes, on the other hand, are driven by the relative salience of different social groups at specific times in specific communities. There are psycholinguistic implications here: Milroy argues that levelling and simplification processes come into play as the social and cognitive prerequisites for supporting highly localised norms disappear, and as language learners are less exposed to complex, localised linguistic structures, and bemme less likely, therefore, to acquire them. Like James Milroy (see below) this paper throws light on the distinction commonly drawn between internal and external determinants oflanguage change. Social dialectologists have always given a central place to bow speakers perceive and evaluate language, and have recognised that this is an important factor in explaining patterns of language variation and change. This field of enquiry developed further during the last few decades of the twentieth century, with research on perceptual dialectology. Mikl6s Kontra's chapter illustrates this approach, analysing the mental maps of majority and minority groups of Hungarian speakers and showing how these reflect the dramatic modifications that have been made to the national borders of Hungary. He provides quantitative evidence oflanguage change in progress that appears to be largely caused by the resulting shifts in national identity and national consciousness. David Britain systematically explores the importance of the outlier in explaining linguistic change, showing that it is important to consider social integration when accounting for language use and in demonstrating the time

Introduction

depth of variation existing in a community. He analyses a number of phonological and grammatical variables in the speech of two outliers in the Fens, demonstrating that speakers from socially and/or geographically isolated parts of the speech community can highlight earlier stages of the dialect because of the braking effect that social isolation has on language change. However he finds that it is necessary to carefully differentiate those apparently 'divergent' speakers who show linguistic continuity with previous generations from those who are truly outliers. Several social dialectologists are currently exploring, questioning and deconstructing concepts that have previously been taken for granted. Some of the chapters in this volume represent this trend. Maclagan and Gordon probe the relevance of free variation, as we have already seen. James Milroy addresses a question that is not commonly asked in the research literature: how do we know when patterns of variation indicate that a sound change is in progress? More generally, what is a sound change, when does it start, and when can we say it has gone to completion? The answer to these questions, he shows, depends crucially on how we understand the term 'sound change'; and this, in turn, is affected by the subtle effects of the standard ideology. The answer also depends on the distinction conventionally drawn between internally induced and externally induced variation and change. It is difficult, Milroy points out, to distinguish these retrospectively; but the issues are clarified if we carefully distinguish between innovations, on the one hand, which may be internally or externally induced (and which lead to variation within a community), and sound change, on the other hand, which, as distinct from variation, requires some kind of external trigger. It is the external factors, Milroy explains, that are decisive in explaining how and why a particular linguistic change takes place at any particular time. The term 'dialect levelling~ Paul Kerswill points out here, became something of a catchphrase in the late 1990s, and needs to be deconstructed. He carefully distinguishes between the process of levelling, defined by 'Ihldgill as the long-term result of accommodation between speakers, and its measurable outcome, which may result from a number of processes including levelling, standardisation and geographical diffusion. Jenny Cheshire examines the boundaries of syntactic variation, asking whether syntactic variation distinguishes social groups in the same way that phonological and morphological variants do. She stresses the importance of considering syntactic alternants in their interactional context: in other words, of paying attention to the meanings conveyed by syntactic forms and to their communicative functions. This, as her analysis of unattached when clauses

'

6

David Britain and Jenny Olesbire

shows, may then lead researchers to analyse different aspects of the construction of discourse, rather than to analyse 'pure' syntactic variation; and this, in turn, may indicate important differences in how different social groups mnstruct their social worlds. Thus syntactic variants can distinguish social groups, but the relationship between social and linguistic variation is likely to be more indirect than in the case of phonological variation. The increasing influence ofsocial dialectology has resulted in many dialects that were not previously well known now being accurately desaibed within a sociolinguistically informed framework. Maria Sifianou's chapter, however, reminds us that the possibility of serious dialect study depends on the political and ideological climate that prevails in a society. She explains that social dialectologyin Greece is a relatively recent phenomenon, albeit one that is now flourishing (together with research projects on all aspects of Greek). She desaibes some recent studies that analyse language variation and change in present-day Greek mmmunities and also points to some earlier work on social variation in Greek. Some of this early work is on a range of secret languages, or antilanguageS; used by marginal groups to show their opposition to society or to keep the content of their interactions secret. Ernst Hilcon Jahr's chapter provides a detailed sociolinguistic account of a secret language, Smoi, that developed in Mandai, Southern Norway. He discusses the linguistic characteristics ofSmoi in relation to the Norwegian dialects spoken in the Mandai region, and also in relation to linguistic processes common to secret languages or language games generally. One relatively recent strand of work in social dialectology aims to explore and explain folk undentanding of dialect. Sharon Millar's chapter provides a new dimension to this field of research, stressing that a developmental perspective is important and illustrating this with an account of her investigation of Danish cbildren's notions of 'correctness' and normativity. A more longstanding aspect of the work of social dialectologists has been to try to raise the status of dialect in communities of dialect speaken and in society generally. 1hldgill has m:ently raised the stakes, claiming that dialectologists should not only desaibe dialects but should take some responsibility for their preservation. Henry Widdowson and Barbara Seidlhofer consider this argument in the wider context of general language intervention, alongside the views of commentaton on English such as Orwell, Swift and Addison. The desire to purify the language, they say, perhaps provocatively, is in fact the same phenomenon as the desire to preserve dialects: the arguments on both sides are based on beliefs about basic human values, and all deny natural processes of language variation and change.

Introduction

Standardisation, of course, is a particular case of language intervention where attempts are made to artificially halt processes of variation and change. Jan Terje Faarlund outlines the principles that have informed language planning in the case of the Nynorsk standard variety in Norway. He discusses the problems of establishing standard forms that can represent a range of different dialects, some of which differ quite significantly from each other, and then considers recent reforms proposed by the Norwegian Language Council that affect the representation of dialect diversity. These, then, are some of the main points addressed in this volume. In line with the dual aim of the volume, the contributors are all scholars who have worked closely with Peter Trudgill in a range of different roles, as coauthor, colleague, graduate student or co-researcher. One or two contributors are known more for their work in other areas of linguistics than for their work in social dialectology, but they have written papers for this volume that focus on topics of current importance in this field. Of course, there are problems in trying to meet two different aims in a single volume, especially when it is also necessary to meet the market demands of present-day publishing. For example, there are other social dialectologists whose work bas been prominent in shaping the discipline. Their work is not represented here because they have worked less closely with Peter Trudgill than the contributors to this volume - their influence can, nevertheless be seen in several of the chapters. Furthermore, of oourse, Peter Trudgill is well known for his work in sociolinguistics generally, and many of his friends and colleagues who are eminent scholars in the wider field - and, indeed, in other areas of linguistics -would have wanted to contribute to a volume in his honour. Our focus on social dialectology meant that we could not invite all these researchers to contribute to the volume, but we hope that they, and Peter, will understand the constraints with which we were faced. We have included at the end of the volume a list of Peter Trudgill's publications (along with works of which be is first author), a list which amply demonstrates not only the energy, depth and breadth of his contribution to the field, but also his role as one of the founders and leading scholars in the discipline (Trudgilll974a, 2002b); as a sociolinguist who bas actively and influentially engaged in research not just on a wide and geographically dispersed number of Anglophone communities (1974a, 1986b, 1999c, 2000b, 2002f, 2003c) but also on languages other than English, such as Norwegian (e.g. 1979d, 1982b, 199lb, 1995e) and Greek (e.g.l978d, 1989e, 1992e);as an author able to introduce the discipline to the non-linguist as well as the linguist (e.g. 1975a, 2000a, now in its fourth edition); and as a true 'professor' - an academic who bas

7

8

David Britain and Jenny Olesbire

ideas (sometimes controversial ones (e.g. Trudgilll998i), develops new theoretical approaches (e.g. 1986a), and is prepared to make brave and innovative incursions into underexplored theoretical terrain (e.g. 2002c). This volume has been published in honour of Peter's contribution to linguistics. In producing it, we look forward to many more years of his insight, inspiration and friendship.

Note • We'd like to thank our partners, Paul Cheshire and Sue Britain. for their patience and understandins durins the production of this Patschrift. and to tbanlt each other for takins over the reins of the project whenever the other was overburdened with the day-to-day strains of the British academic system from which Peter sensibly decided to escape!

Pursuing the cascade model William Labov Univenity of Pennsylvania

Granted that language is a social fact, and not the property of any individual, it follows that a linguistic change is equivalent to the diffusion of that change. An understanding oflanguage change therefore demands an understanding of the mechanism of diffusion. It has long been observed that linguistic features spread outward from an originating center, but in a progressively weaker form as distance increases.1 A major step towards the understanding of diffusion was made by Ttudgill ( 1973b) in his study of language change in the Brunlanes peninsula ofNorway. In Ttudgill"s gravity model of diffusion, change spreads from the largest to the next largest city, in a predictable order, the influence of one city on another being proportional to the relative sizes of the city and inversely proportional to the distance between them. The model showed a good fit to the variable (z), involving the progressive lowering and backing of /z/, and to the spread of London influence into Norfolk. Chambers and Trudgill (1980) develop the parallel of the palatalization of (sj) in this area with similar results. In his study of 18 freshman women at Northwestern University, Callary ( 1975) found that the raising of /z/ in northern Dlinois was correlated with the size of the speakers" home city. The efforts of Chambers and Ttudgill to apply the gravity model to these data (1980:201-202) met with only partial success, in parallel with efforts of students in successive dialectology classes that I have taught. The more general pattern of the "cascade model• does appear to be supported: that change proceeds &om the largest city to the next largest city, and so progressively downward. The problem of establishing the mechanism that produces this effect seems to be the same for the more specific gravity model and the more general cascade (or "hierarchical•) model.

10

William Labov

It is not suggested that all linguistic changes follow the same pat

of diffusion. Bailey, Wdde and Sand's (1993) investigation of Oklahoma cated three distinct patterns, showing that some changes spread geographic rather than hierarchically (the "neighborhood" effect of Chambers & 'lh1d.! The low back merger of /o/ and /obi is given as an example of the case model, though it is not demonstrated in the same detail as in 'Iiudgill's l wegian studies. Boberg (2000) finds that this same feature does not folloYJ predictions of the cascade model across the U.S.-Canadian border, where political (and structural) boundary is a categorical boundary, and shows thermore that the spread of American in.ftuence on foreign (a) words is governed by an urban hierarchy. A number of other studies reflect the cascade model of diffusion ~ a smaller number of points of comparison. A dear example is Modare study of Tehran ( 1978), which was coupled with an auxiliary study of Ghaz Gbazvin is a city of considerable historical importance, about 150 km f the metropolis, but with a current population that is only a small fractio. Tehran's half million. Figure 1 shows the variable (an): the percentage rai

80

--Tehran 10-19 70 +-~~-------------------~Tehran2~~

......... Tehran 0\la' 50 60 +---~--~~--------------~-G~lOm2

!so

_,._G~overSO

'S

:f

:!. 40

c:

§30 ct

A.

''

''

'

'.1

20 10 0

Casual

Wordlists

Minimalpairs

Fipre 1. Percent raising of (an) in the Farsi of~bran and Ghazvin.

Punning the cascade model

of standard /an/ to [un]. This is a weD-known characteristic of the Tehran dialect of Farsi, fairly stable in its age distribution. AU age groups from Tehran show a high frequency of the vernacular variant in casual speech but a reduction to vanishingly small levels for controlled speech. There is some suggestion of change in apparent time, with speakers over 50 somewhat behind the others. The speakers from Ghazvin follow the same pattern at a lower level, indicating that the variable may have diffused outward from the capital to the smaller city, and may still be continuing to do so. The Atlas of North American English (ANAE) has traced the progress of a number of linguistic changes in progress (Labov, Ash, & Boberg, in press). Of these, the Northern Cities Shift (NCS) is the most likely candidate for a study of the cascade model, since it was first discovered in the major cities of Chicago, Detroit and Buffalo, and is now seen to cover a vast area involving many cities (71 cities with a population of 17,000,000 people in a territory of 33,000 square miles). This shift is a rotation of five vowels of English in the pattern ofFigure 2. The earliest and most extended elements of the change involve the raising and fronting of ltd and the fronting of /o/, followed by the lowering of /oh/ to low back position. The most recent changes are the lowering and backing of lei and the backing of IA/ to the position formerly occupied by /oh/. The NCS is found in the North (the broken isogloss in Figure 3), a dialect region defined by the conditions that permit the NCS to occur. These are (1) the relatively back position of /ow/ (F2 of the nucleus < 1200 Hz) and a lax front nucleus for ley/ (F2 of the nucleus< 2200 Hz).2

Figure 2. The Northern Cities Shift.

u

~illiam Labov

ligure 3. The Northern Cities Shift defining the Inland North dialect, and the larger qion of the North. EOD: F2(e)-F2(o) <375Hz. The North: Fl(ow) < 1200Hz and :2(ey) <2200Hz.

Within the North, the dialect area known as the Inland North is defined ,y active participation in the NCS. Since this complex phenomenon involves ive different vowels, the progress of the shift is best defined by indices that nvolve the relative movement of several elements. One such index is based on he fact that in the course of the NCS, lei moves back to mid center position, vhile /of moves forward to low center position; two vowels that were originally lefined as front vs. back become closely aligned in the front-back dimension. rhus the EOD index of the progress of the NCS is the difference between F2 ,f lei and F2 of /of. In Figure 3, the solid circles represent speakers for whom :2(e)-F2(o) is less than 375Hz. The solid isogloss defined by these speakers llso defines the Inland North dialect area, ranging from western New York State o southeastern Wisconsin, and including a corridor running from Chicago to it. Louis. In pursuit of the cascade model of linguistic change, we can ask whether here is evidence that the progress of the NCS is related to city size.

Punuing the cascade model

18ble 1. Regression coefficients for eight indices of the Northern Cities Shift in the Northern region [N=126). Coefficient for age shows the expected effect for age differences of 25 )ftl"S; for city size, the expected effect for a population difference of 1,000,000. All figura are significant at p < .05 or better. Pl(ae)

Pl(ae)

Pl(o)

Fl(e)

Pl(e)

EAEQ

EOD

UHO

43.7

39.1

20.0 18.4

26.0 39.1

35.0 29.6

90.5 6.0

61.2

25.7

Ase

atysize

66.2

Table 1 gives some evidence that it is. The table gives eight indices of the progress of the NCS, with signs adjusted so that positive values show effects correlated with the direction of change. The age coefficients show the expected effect of the change for an age difference of one generation, or 25 years; the city size figures register the expected effect of a difference of 1,000,000 in city size. The first five indices are simple measures of mean formant positions: the raising of /z/ is registered by the lowering of F1 and the fronting of /z/ by the raising of F2; the fronting of /o/ by the raising of F2; the lowering of lei by the raising of F1, and the backing of lei by the lowering of F2. The EAEQ index is the percent of speakers for whom the relative positions of /z/ and /e/ have become reversed in the course of the change; that is, that /z/ is higher and &onter than /el. The EOD measure involves the backing of lei and the fronting of /o/, as defined in Figure 3. The UHO measure also involves the relative position of two phonemes: it is the difference between the F2 of /o/ and /A/. As the NCS progresses, this figure inaeases in magnitude. Since the earliest stages of the change are almost completed, there is no significant age effect in the first three columns, but significant age effects appear strongly for the rest of the measures. City size is a significant and uniform determinant of each stage of the shift, although it is somewhat smaller for EOD than for the other measures. A cnmplementary table for the 314 other Atlas subjects outside of the North shows only three significant relations to city size, all quite small, and two in the opposite direction of the sound change. We can therefore conclude that the NCS is an urban phenomenon and is more advanced in the larger cities than smaller ones. Gordon's studies of the NCS in small towns in Michigan (2001) shows a much less advanced state of the change than we find in the larger cities. This is not quite the same as cnncluding that diffusion of the NCS follows the cascade model. Table 2 shows that the distribution of city sizes concentrates the largest cities heavily in the Inland North. An eighteen of the cities of over half a million are in that area; on the other band, 23 of the smaller cities of

13

14

William Labov 'lilble 2. City sizes in the Inland North and the North as a whole. Size (xiOO)

Ialaod North

Other North

Total North

<50 50-100 100-500 >500

8 20 25 18

23

31 28 49 18

8 24 0

Table 3. Mean values and standard deviations of three systematic indices of the progress of the NCS in the North. EOD

UHO

EAEQ

Size (xiOOO)

Mean

SD

Mean

SD

Mean

SD

<50 50-200 200-500 >500

377 300 348 245

152 135 163 125

2.03 2.32 2.12 2.67

0.706 0.611 0.633 0.594

-78 -74 -41 -19

263 117 133 126

less than 50,000 population are outside of the Inland North. It is possible that the Inland North can be viewed as a homogeneous urban area in which change is diffused geographically, spreading steadily across the terrain. Table 3 shows that the situation is intermediate in this respect. For each index, there are three degrees of ordering among the four city size units. EOD and UHO beoome steadily smaller, and EAEQ becomes larger as city size increases. In other words, it is not a simple dichotomy between the Inland North and elsewhere. Within the larger region of the North. the Spearman rank correlation of city population with the NCS variables ranges from 1.9 to 2.44. This is considerably lower than the match of observation to prediction in 'Iiudgill's original study of Brunlanes, which showed a correlation of 6.00, but it is a significant effect. On the other hand, Spearman rank correlations of city size with age within the Inland North itself are vanishingly small. The obverse of this uniformity within the Inland North is the great difference between that region and the rest of the continent for all aspects of the Northern Cities Shift. When we examine the regression equations for North America as a whole, location in the Inland North far outweighs the effect of city size. Diffusion from city to city within the Inland North may have been the mechanism in the earlier stages of the shift, but now the area is remarkably uniform across the entire territory. The concentration of large cities in the Inland North is so great that their mutual influences may add up to a ceiling effect, producing the relatively uniform displays of the ANAE maps.

Punuing the cascade model

The mechanism of the cascade model The cascade model is weD established as a mechanism of linguistic diffusion for some, but not all linguistic changes. 1hldgill's original examples &om Norway have been supplemented by a number of studies of the diffusion of London English in England, and are supported by the work of Callary, Bailey et al. and Modaressi's study of linguistic diffusion in Iran. The data from ANAE adds some large scale data to support the view that some linguistic changes spread across the larger speech community by the cascade model. It is therefore reasonable to ask what social mechanism is responsible for this effect. In his original discussion on explanation, 1hldgill suggests that attitudes and linguistic structure also have to be taken into account. Although there is no overt recognition of the NCS in the community, Eckert's studies of social distribution in Detroit high schools (1999) show that the development of the NCS is tied to social category membership and gender, and the larger scale patterns of ANAE confirm this finding. The importance of structural considerations is highlighted in the Atlas maps. The tight bundle of isoglosses that defines the southern limit of the NCS coincides with the North/Midland settlement line, and cuts across high concentrations of population density and high levels of communication. It can only be explained by the structural incompatibility of the vowel systems in the Northern and Midland regions (Labov 2002). The explanation of the cascade model itself must rest upon different mnsiderations. 1hldgill's account focuses on ways ofcalculating distance; the gravity model assumes that all influence weakens with inaeasing distance. It seems most likely that this weakening of influence is not due to psychological or social factors so much as the frequency of mntact among speakers of the two cities. The assumption underlying this is Bloomfield's principle of density ( 1933: 476) that people automatically and inevitably influence each other's language each time they speak to each other. The question remains, what mechanism produces the given frequency of contact among speakers from different cities! There are two quite different mechanisms that might produce this result. One is that people from the smaller city come to the larger city. The attractions of the larger city are obvious: employment, shopping, entertainment, education, and so on. To trace the linguistic consequences of such movements, we would have to know which members of the community travel for which purpose, and in each case bow much linguistic contact they would have with spealcers of the larger city's dialect. On the other band, these representatives of the larger city may travel outwards to the smaller city, and bring with them the dialect features being diffused. The reasons for such outward movement are

15

16

William Labov

not so obvious. The most systematic travel is connected with the distribl of goods: salesmen, truckers, and other representatives of the manufactl firms of the larger city. We can get some insight into this process by comparing the social d bution of a linguistic variable in a larger and smaller city. Figure 4 show. relation of education to the variable {an) in Tehran and Ghazvin (see Fi 1). It is apparent that in the original pattern ofTehran, {an) is negatively ct lated with education: those with the least education show the highest value Ghazvin, it is the opposite. More importantly, the value of (an) for those some college education matches the values in Tehran quite closely. The ~ ence can be drawn that it is the group with higher education in Ghazvin have direct contact with speakers of the Tehran dialect, and that this fean then diffused from them downward in the educational scale. Contact has It diffusion, but the source and direction of the contact leads to a reversal o sociolinguistic norms in Ghazvin. So far, we are making inferences from data that reflects a process air accomplished. In what follows, I will draw upon the real time studies o diffusion of a variable that reveals in some detail the originating mecha1 of the cascade model. The data here concerns the unique lexical item, name for the sandwich now generally known as a 'submarine' or 'sub' s

100 90 80

c:

-

.:!. 70

~Tehran

c:

~

ct

-Ghazvin

60 50 40 30 Some

1~12

coUege

years

7-9years

under7 years

Figure 4. Relation of education to raising of (an) in Tehran and Ghazvin. (so: Modaressi 1978}

Punuing the cascade model

wich throughout the United States. In 1967, two CorneU sociologists, Eames and Robboy, published a study of these terms based upon an examination of the listings and advertisements in the telephone directories aaoss the United States. At that time, the submarine sandwich culture had only recently been established as a cultural item, and the majority of cities did not show any advertisement at all. In the years that followed, this item has been so widely developed that advertisements listing them can be found for every city under a number of headings: restaurant, sandwich, pima, delicatessen, caterm. Following Eames and Robboy, I have traced the development of this vocabulary in real time studies of telephone directories, with the help of the coUection in the Library of Congress. The submarine is a sandwich on a long roll, split in half. In its basic form it is filled with a variety of cold cuts, cheese, shredded lettuce, peppers, onions, salt, pepper, oil and vinegar. In addition to the general term submarine or sub, local terms in current use are grinder (New England outside of Boston), wedge (Westchester County), hero (New York Oty), torpedo or torp (Albany and 'Ii'oy), hoagie (Philadelphia), zeppelin or zep (Norristown, PA), and poor boy (New Orleans). Here I will be concerned with the spread of hoagie &om Philadelphia to the next largest city in Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh. Figure 5 shows the use of hoagie in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, with the intervening and surrounding areas dominated by submarine. It is based upon responses to a questionnaire gathered by students in Philadelphia: these were the first terms used by subjects in identifying a long sandwich of this kind. One can see the zone of influence of Philadelphia which is evidently the result of contagious diffusion, and the concentration of hoagie in the city of Pittsburgh. The sandwich called hoagie originated in Philadelphia in sandwich and ice cream shops, along with the Philadelphia steak sandwich or cheesesteak. Early telephone listings show that it became generalized in Philadelphia shortly after World War I, as shown in Table 4. The various spellings have been cited many times by those searching for the etymology of this term, but it is evident that by 1955, it had become focused on hoagie or hoagy. The growth of advertisements with this form demonstrate a clear consolidation by the mid-1950s. 18ble 4. Lexical stem of 'hoagie' in Philadelphia telephone listings. hog-

1945 1950 1955

3

10 4

ltooK-

1

lroK-

-K-

1 2 6

1 47

1

17

1ipJe 5. Distribution of terms for 'submarine sandwich' in Pennsylvania. At the same time, another feature of popular cuisine was being established n Philadelphia and elsewhere. In the 1930s, the ancestor of the pizza was comnonly known as a tomato pie or some equivalent term. Advertisements refering to this item began to appear in the same post-war period, as shown in lilble 5. The now universal term pizzll did not eliminate tomato pie until well tfter 1960, but it is apparent that its growth and establishment as an imporant cuisine element dates &om the mid-1950s.ln the year 1960, the telephone lirectory established a separate section for pizm.

table 5. Lexical form of'pizza' in Philadelphia telephone 1istinp. 'lbmt~tolU

PimJ

Section .931 .944 .945 950 .955 .960

Pizztl/

Pizzerill

Pizzltp;.

4 7 4

4 1

TomtltD Pie

Restaurant

.

.. • • Pizza

1 1 6 6 6

5

1 1

1 6 5

Punuing the cascade model

18ble 6. Small advertisements in PbiJadelphia Rtstaunmt section: 1955. pizza

16

Hoagie

5

Sub

6

Pizza & Hoagie PizD&Sub Hoasie & Sub

I 1

Pizza & Hoagie & Sub

8

27

18ble 7. Diffusion of hoagie to Pittsburgh &om 1961 to 1966. 1961-2 Grab 'n' Go Pizza Pat's Pizzeria VJUase Pizza Campiti's Don Pizzeria Luigi's pizza Prank & BettYs Pizza Shop Aspinwall Pizza/Augie's Hoagies Mac Tony's Nationwide Luara's Ratsaurant & Pizza Brookline Pizza Arudys Pizza/Famous Hoagie

,

Total for Resttlunmt section

68

H

1962-3

,. ,

H

..

1964

1965

IM

s

s

s

H H

H H H H H H H

, ..

H

..

H

• H H H

H H H 75

75

91

93

H = hoagie; S = sub(marine); • = listins. no ad;#= ad, no mention ofH or S.

For the past several decades, the heaviest concentration of advertisements for submarine sandwiches is to be found in the pizza section of the directories. But this association was not so strong in the formative period of the mid-1950s in Philadelphia. Table 6 lists the various combinations of items to be found in small advertisements in the Philadelphia Restaurant section in 1955. The combination of pizza and hoagie was a minority pattern at that time: separate advertisements were in the majority. Wrth the help of the year telephone directories, it is possible to identify the exact year in which hoagie spread to Pittsburgh, and the mechanism by which this happened. Table 7 shows the information gleaned from the Restaurant section of the Pittsburgh yellow pages from 1961 to 1966. The story begins with Grab 'n' Go Pizza, who introduced a small ad in 1961-1962 for hoagies. The next year, they were simply listed, but in the three years following they ran an ad for a submarine sandwich. Grab 'n' Go was unique in switching back to submarine after initiating a practice followed by everyone else. The other pizza listing in 1961-1962 made no mention of submarine sandwich. In 1962-1963, Village Pizza introduced an ad that included Hoagies, and maintained this practice consistently in the following years. In the directory

19

20

William Labov

for 1964, Frank & Betty's Pizza Shop followed along and Pat's Pizzeria added reference to hoagies in their ad. The next year, 1965, showed a row of 7 hoagie ads, with only Grab 'n' Go advertising submarines. In 1966, tluee additional stores added their ads for hoagies. It is also noteworthy that in 1965, Aspinwall Pizza added as a second title for their ad, Augie's Hoagies, and the following year, Andy's Pizza added the label, Famous Hoagie. It is evident that hoagies had become quite p;opular in Pittsburgh by 1965. Although the total listings in the restaurant section grew by 50% during this period, the expansion of hoagie is an independent and larger phenomenon. The expansion of hoagie in Pittsburgh is entirely contained within the growingpizm complex: no ads for hoagies appeared in any stores that did not feature pizzas. This is quite different from Philadelphia, as Table 6 showed. It is not accidental that the term hoagie spread to Philadelphia in conjunction with the expansion of the pizza complex. This is common throughout the United States, and is a cultural phenomenon of some interest. However, the submarine sandwich has recently expanded independendy, through such enterprises as the Subway chain. The trend started by Village Pizza suggests that this particular merchant had a certain influence in the community. This suggestion is strongly reinforced by the fact that Village Pizza had a separate ad for pizza ovens. At the same time that they were competing with other pizza stores for the retail business, Village Pizza was supplying their competitors with the basic equipment needed to start and stay in business. It seems reasonable to infer that these ovens were manufactured in Philadelphia, and that Village Pizza had a special connection with that city. If this is the case, it is an example of how commercial contacts can activate the cascade model. Without knowing more about the owners ofVillage Pizza, we cannot say whether this is an example of a local Pittsburgh people going to Philadelphia and acquiring the use of the term there, or whether they or other people originally came &om Philadelphia. In one case I was able to pursue this question, when I noted that a shop in Boulder, Colorado featured a hero sandwich. I got the owner on the phone, and asked him if he had come from New York. He was indeed a New Yorker. When I asked him why he had used hero instead of sub he said, "Well I figure that if they don't know what it is, they can ask.• At the end of the conversation he added, "To tell the truth, I knew when I started up that I should put sub on the sign. But I just couldn't." This maintenance of metropolitan terminology is the obverse of a local person's admiration for the practices of the big city. A certain part of the mech-

anism of diffusion can be accounted for by attitudes of this kind, as Ttudgill originally maintained. But numbers count. In the years since the Eames and Robboy study, many local terms for submarine sandwich have been extinguished by the spread of sub. The big city competitors have held their ground: hero in New York City, hoagie in Philadelphia, while zep and torp have bea>me associated with the speech of the elderly.3 There can be no doubt that linguistic change and the acquisition of new forms is most vigorous and active in the adolescent years, and that language learning is much reduced in the years that follow. Most of the processes discussed above reflect influences among adults, and reflect the slower and more erratic process by which language forms diffuse outward from their originating center. To understand the cascade model more deeply, we will have to know more about who travels where in what kind of enterprise. More importantly, we need to know how adults can influence the speech of others and shift their own practices, long after the critical period of language learning is over.

Notes L It is not obvious that it should be so; in fact. it has been proposed that rules or constraints tend to generalize as they diffuse. and aft'ect a wider range oflinguistic forms. 2. It appears that the full raising of lzl to upper mid position is inconsistent with a fronted near-monophthongal form of ley/. and the backing of /AI is inconsistent with the fronting of /ow/.

3- In 1997. I visited Troy, NY. to see if the term torpedo was surviving Torpedos was featured

in a small delicatessen owned by an elder Italian man. But in a fast food chain called Mr Subb's. neither of the two young women behind the counter used the term or thought their customers did. One said that her grandfather used torpedo.

References Bailey. G.• Wilde. T.• Tillery. J.• & Sand. L. (1993). Some patterns of linguistic diffusion. LllngruJge Variation and Change. s. 359-390. Bloomfield. L ( 1933). Llmguage. New York: Henry Holt. Boberg. C. (2000). Geolinguistic diffusion and the U.S.-Canadian border. Language Variation and Change. 12. 1-24. Callary, R. E. ( 1975 ). Phonological change and the development of an urban dialect in Illinois. LangruJge in Society. 4, 155-170. Chambers. J. K. & 'Iiudgill. P. ( 1980 ). Dilllectology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

21

William Labov

Eames. E. & Robboy, H. (1967). The sociocultural contert of an American dietary item. The ComeU]oumal ofSocial &lations, 2, 63-75. Reprinted in H. RobboyetaL (Eds.) (1979), Socitlllnteraction (pp. 521-530). New York: St. Martin's Press. Eckert. P. ( 1999). Linguistic Variation as Social Practice. Oxford: Blackwell Gordon, M. (2001). Small-town values and big-city vowels: a study of the northern cities shift in Michigan. Durham: Duke University Press. Labov, W. (2002). Driving form in linguistic change. Paper presented at the 2002 International Conference on Komm Linguistics. To appear in their Proceedinp. Labov, W., Ash, S., & Boberg. M. (in press). Atlas ofNorth American English. Berlin: Mouton deGruyter. Modaressi, Y. (1978). A Sociolinguistic Investigation of Modem Persian. University of Kansas, Ph.D. dissertation.

Complementary approaches to the diffusion of standard features in a local community* Juan Manuel Hernandez-Campoy Univenity of Murcia

Introduction Like most European languages in the growing nation states of Europe since Renaissance times, the process of standardisation of Castilian Spanish in the Iberian Peninsula fully adheres to Haugen's (1966) - and Leith' (1983) methodological distinction of four stages recurring in the historical implementation of standard varieties (selection, acceptance, functional elaboration and codification). Nation-building and the aeation and perception of a national identity has been a consciously planned project at the level of the state in which language has deliberately played a prominent role. With Old Castile established as the dominant power, Castilian Spanish was used increasingly in situations of prestige and influence (the court, the church and the army), in legal documents, in the administration of the incipient Spanish state and its empire, and- at that time- in the prolific literary and artistic output (during the Spanish Golden Age: Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon, Quevedo, Garcilaso, etc.). But it was not really until the eighteenth century that normative language policies were established: the aeation in 1713 of the Spanish Royal Academy (Real Academia de Ia Lengua Espaftola) to standardise, fix and aeate the norms of the national language, with their subsequent publications, such as its first authoritative dictionary (DRAE, 1726-39), the OrtDgmfta for spelling norms (1741) and the Gram4tiaa Outel1Mul (ln1). In 1768, Charles m deaeed that the Castilian language was to be used officially throughout the kingdom both in administration and education (see Mar-Molinero 1997, 2000).

24

Juan Manuel Hemandez-Campoy

The norma1isation process in Morcian Spanish The Spanish spoken in Murcia is a transition variety that shares features with Valendan Catalan, Castilian, Aragonese and Andalusian Spanish and is traditionally characterised as a predominantly non-standard-speaking region. This diversity of regional dialect features found in the Murcian vernacular variety is thus simply a reflection of what at a given moment constituted a confluence of traditional dialects during the reconquest of Spain &om the Moon and the subsequent processes of Castilianisation-i.e. the expansion ofSpanish features from Old Castile in north-central Spain since the 1Oth century. From an historical point of view, the Kingdom of Murcia was a fully Arabic-speaking area until 1244, when it became part of the Kingdom of Castile, which - together with Aragonese and Leonese - was originally an Hispano-Romance or Latin-based speaking area. Although Arabic and even Mozarabic began to be displaced, they were spoken alongside Castilian for considerable periods of time after the conquest. But, as a result of a Moorish revoh in Murcia, Jaime I of Aragon helped Alfonso X 'The Learned' by sending Aragonese and Catalan settlen to this kingdom (see Zamora-Vicente 1989; Penny 1991), which meant that there were other geolectal substrata in the configuration of the Murcian variety during its process of Castilianisation. Accordingly, Murcian Spanish, like Andalusian, can best be considered a southward extension of varieties originating in the north-central area of the Iberian Peninsula (see Lapesa 1988; Zamora-Vicente 1989; Alvar 1996; Hemandez-Campoy 8t 'lhtdgill 2002; G6mez-Ortfn, forthcoming, and Hemandez-Campoy, forthcoming for a full description; and Monroy 2002 for a supra-segmental approach).

Objectives Currently, some changes in the patterns of sociolinguistic behaviour of the Murdan speech community seem to suggest that the use of standard fonns (Castilian Spanish) is inaeasing in this traditionally non-standard area to the detriment of the local pronunciation (Murcian Spanish). The aim of this chapter is to account for different approaches recently carried out in studying the impact that standard Castilian Spanish may be making on the local non-standard variety, with the diffusion of the former geographically throughout Murcia and sociolinguistically in the speech of Murdan speakers. This chapter is thus focussed on Leith's ( 1983) 'accep-

Diffusion of standard features

tance• stage, referred to the process of social and geographical diffusion of the standard variety.

Approaches to the diffusion of standard forms in Murcian Spanish A real-time study based on radio recordings In order to detect and measure the apparent increasing usage of standard

Castilian Spanish forms from Northern Peninsular Spanish in the speech of a traditionally non-standard-speaking community, a real-time analysis of Murcian pronunciation based on radio recordings over the last twenty-six years was carried out by Hernindez-Campoy and Jimenez-Cano (forthcoming). This followed the methodology used in similar studies (see Van de Velde, Gerritsen, 8c Van Hout 1996; Van de Velde, Van Hout, 8c Gerritsen 1997). In order to analyse the linguistic behaviour of Murcian speakers and to trace its evolution (if any), the period analysed was divided into 5-year intervals: 1975--1979, 1980-1984, 1985--1989, 1990-1994, and 1995--2000. This 26-year period inevitably compelled us to deal with the end of Franco•s regime (1939-1975) and the development of the political transition towards democracy. Considering the socio-political characteristics of this historical period- a high leading role of politics in the media and a prevalent social conservatismit was not possible to obtain an equal number of speakers in the categories we designed. Given that women•s overt participation in political life and decisionmaking was still socially unusual and remote, the preserved radio recordings consisted of interviews or statements predominantly made by male politicians (Group 1). It was not until the 1980s when recordings of non-politicians were available (Group 2). 1\vo social groups were thus distinguished for the study: male Murcian politicians and male Murcian non-politicians. Eight variables were used: word-final postvocalic /s/ deletion; wordinternal postvocalic /s/ deletion; word-internal postvocalic /s/ assimilation; word-final postvocalic /r/ deletion; word-final postvocalic /II deletion; intervocalic /d/ deletion, which is omitted specially in words ending with the sequences -ado/ada and -ido/ida, such as the past participles; intervocalic /r/ in the word para 'for, in order to'; and any other word-internal regressive consonant assimilations. All are prominent features of the Murcian accent and of some other non-standard varieties of Southern Peninsular Spanish (see Hemmdez-Campoy 8c Trudgill2002).

2.5

26

Juan Manuel Hemandez-Campoy

There were 44 informants (Group 1: 28 +Group 2: 16), 53 samples (Group 1:28 +Group 2: 25) and 8,348linguistic instances (Group 1: 5,107 +Group 2: 3,241) used in the study. A detailed analysis correlating linguistic variables with social variables (groups) and time intervals allowed us to compare the sociolinguistic behaviour of the different social groups in terms of standardisation (adoption of Castilian Spanish features) or non-standardisation (maintenance of local Murcian features) and their tendencies diachronically. Table I and Figures 1 and 2 show the results of quantification concerning the presence of the eight variables for the two groups. The arithmetic mean for Groups I and 2 shows a slow but steady pattern of approximation to the standard Castilian Spanish prestige model. Although the two social groups have different percentages of standard features, both have changed their pronunciation in exactly the same direction, increasing the percentage of high-status standard Castilian Spanish forms in their speech. Groups 1 and 2 are mainly distinguished from each other by the much greater awareness that the former, Murcian politicians, have ofthe sodal significance oflinguistic variables as aresult of both their social position and exemplary role in society sodosemiotically and pragmatically (see Wilson 1990). This means that the pronunciation of Murcian speakers is closer to the standard in the year 2000 (with 75% standardisation) than 26 years ago in 1975 (with 56.6% ). While Van de Velde et aL (1997) obtained a pattern where a diachronic divergence between the northern standard Dutch (The Netherlands) and the southern standard varieties of Dutch (Flanders) was the regular tendency, in Murcia, conversely, there is a converging pattern between Castilian Spanish and the local Murdan variety, with a slowly but steadily progressive expansion of the standard to the detriment of the vernacular. We must suppose that the dramatic decrease in illiteracy during the last twenty-five years, with a subsequent enormous increase in secondary and university education, and the close relationship between spelling and pronunciation in Spanish are a audal influence in favour of the standardisation process. In fact, as Penny (2000: 194) points out, •standardisation is a process which takes place within written language, and which is indeed inconceivable in the absence of writing~ as it exerts a deciding potential and prescriptivist control of speech (see J. Mllroy 1999, 2001 ). There is a general tendency for the individual variables to converge on standard Castilian Spanish, although to different degrees. That is, diachronically speaking, as shown in Figures 1 and 2, standard forms are adopted by (prestige) upper social classes (Group 1: politicians) earlier than others (Group 2:

Jntorvals Vuiable

word-final postvocUc '"' word-internal postvocalic /sl word-final posmx:alic /r/ word-final postvocalic /II interwcalic /d!

1.... 19114 197S-1979 Gl (4) G2 (4) Gl (6) G2(4)

23.696 681287

20.696 13/63

82.1'16

-

-

106/129 -

84.2'16 64/76 63.6'16 3S/SS

interwcalic /r/ 85.796 (pan!) 617 consonant

26%

assimilation COII50naDt permutation TOTAL

12/46

-

97.796 1701174 -

-

56.696 4741837 -

--1985-1989

--·-

199S-2000 GJ (6) G2(4)

44.5'16 40.4% 56.296 117/208 107/240 62611548

G1 (6)

G2(4) 1.3.696 49/359

37./%

15.696

107/288

32/204

25'16 2/80

18.796 18/96

2157

40.296

20.496

47.496

161/400

381186

173/365

33.396 51/153

1.1'16 1/91

62/117

96'16 217/226

67.396 95/141

100'16 159/159

83'16 1421171

99.3'16 157/158

82189

95'16

60.296

97.4'16

85.2'16

97.3'16 36137

52.996

TOTAL 1975-2000 Gl (28) Gl(l6)

1990-1994 Gl (6) G2(4)

3.5% 92.1'16

37'16 182/491

8./% 24/294

100'16 /00'16 95.8'16 120/120 109/109 759/792

83.9%

100'16

100'16

827%

6/.296 38/62

28.7'16 19/47

22.11% 226/!189

95.1'16

428/510

77181

44/73

76178

75/88

98.9'16 92193

64/64

S1/S1

373/392

206/249

76.9'16

47.4'16

65.3'16

96.6%

72'16

88.4'16

8396 S4/6S

81%

67.1%

2521311

147/219

100'16 616

97.6%

94.796

42143

36138

0

J6% 22161

36.5'16 1441394

10'16

;· ... •

SOI65

28/S9

110'16 64/80

341S2

57/59

31/43

46152

10096

100'16 SIS

10096

10096 616

100'16

100'16

16116

60'16 3/S

15/1S

9/9

24.1%

1'16

29.8'16

2'16

10.296

6696

27/112

1/92

341114

2196

52796 38172

4/39

33/SO

100'16 294/294

90.2'16 100'16 139/154 235/235

12112

.196 217/221

100'16 249/249

29/289

100'16

100'16 100'16 99.696 9796 1181118 184/184 160/160 113211136 634/653

53.396 66.J96 43.596 49.496 70.9'16 53.1'16 81.5'16 69.6'16 68.7% 70'16 893/1347 349/802 808/1153 533/1079 n4/to2t 3201602 611/749 S28/7S8 3SIOISI07 173013241

~

0

l""

28

Juan Manuel Hemandez-Campoy

·~~~:=!~~:~~==~:~:;:;~?~ . . ?. .,_. ·--·----·

.D----~

eo ............................................................................................................................... .

_ .........,..._..,., -- ............,.......,.,- ................._.,., ..... ............ ... . ,.,_,,.,

0+-----------~--------~-----------T----------~ ,,._,,.. IM-ltN 19tS-aiO

rm-am IDIIn*

_,,.-......,...._..N _.

_.,.. .......

· - · ,.._..kid/

-···

~lrl

Fipre I. The diachronic propsion of the Castilianisation process ofMurcian Spanish per variables and informants (Group 1: Male politicians): Percentages of usage of standard Castilian Spanish variants.

non-politicians): variables whose standard variant appears to be categorical in the speech of Group 1 at the beginning of the 1980s, for example, are not

adopted to the same degree in the pronunciation of Group 2 until the end of the same decade. The linguistic changes captured here in their terminal process were the cases of intervocalic /r/ in the word para and consonant permutation (r > 1). However, the standard form of the postvocalic 111 and /r/ variables in word-final position were not well embedded until mid 1990s; intervocalic ldl is at an advanced stage of standardisation; and, in contrast, both word-final and word-internal postvocalic lsi as well as consonant assimilation lay far behind in having mainly vernacular variants, showing resistance to standardisation. In fact. consonant assimilation is described as a phenomenon in the process of expansion in northern regions of Spain, which are apparently standard Castilian Spanish-speaking areas (see Martinez-Martin 1983). As shown in other studies (see Romaine 1982, 1988; Hemmdez-Campoy & Conde-Silvestre 1999), the implementation of the standard variety usually progresses following the same route over time, from formal to informal styles, and, in this case, from prestige social groups (Group 1) to less prestigious ones (Group 2). Thus, the

Diffusion ofstandard featwa

..,

········································································-················································ .. ;

·" ,•' , ,•'

:10

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•'

' ' r.:J !'!!

~

··~~·,'-···-,··········

I

............a--...J! •' ,

~

----.13~~~~~

.......

•••••••••. !3-~,

,.._--" .....

I 0+---------~~==~~~~----------------------,

-

.......... ~,.,

-~~~~N

I I I I I _ _ .......;..

ltiS-1-

-

,.

...... bobl..t,..e-lic/11 -

_,...._...IM

........... ....._.,.,

-111...,.._,./rl

I l l 1--.-tpe......._

Fipre 2. The diachronic progression of the Castilianisation process ofMurcian Spanish per variables and informants (Group 2: Male non-politicians): Percentages of usage of standard Castilian Spanish variants.

greater the frequency of standard forms in informaUfamiliar styles, the greater the degree of standardisation. The standard form of intervocalic /d/ appears in an intermediate-high position for both groups. It is more rigidly governed by some type of sociolinguistic covariation, particularly stylistic. According to Narbona, Cano 8c Morillo (1998: 176), the deletion of intervocalic /d/ is becoming a widespread phenomenon in the casual speech of Peninsular Spanish. The variable (d) in intervocalic position was studied by Williams (1987) in Valladolid, a city of

2f

30

Juan Manuel Hemindez..Qunpoy Old Castile, where she found that it is subject to both social and stylistic variation, with a conscious use of the standard variant in formal contexts (see Penny 1991, 2000). In Murcia, the variable (d) is also a marker. The difference lies in that intervocalic /d! deletion in Murcia, as well as in Andalusia (see Narbona, Cano, & Morillo 1998: 176-181), is both stylistically and socially more extensive: the non-standard variant is consistently much more frequently found in formal situations and upper social classes in the Spanish of Murcia than in that ofOld Castile. How is this gradual process of diffusion of standard Castilian Spanish features into Murcian Spanish taking place over the region: is it geographically determined following a hierarchical structure or a contagion expansion model? A correlation of geolinguistic and variationist sociolinguistic analyses may provide us with an answer and shed more light on this matter. An apparent-time study based on gravity models and quantitative sociolinguistics At a geolinguistic leveL this standardisation tendency was also detected in

Hemmdez-Campoy's (2003, forthcoming) study using a gravity model analysis. In that paper, I concluded that the use of standard Castilian Spanish is spreading gradually and consistently throughout the region of Murcia. But this expansion of standardisation is not geographically homogeneous but rather hierarchical. Murcia Oty is, particularly, undergoing this process of standardisation to a greater extent and at a higher rate than other parts of the region. In that study, an adaptation of a gravity model formula to obtain an interaction potential index (IPI) (see Hemmdez-Campoy 1999a, 1999b) was applied, and a hierarchy of intra-regional urban centres which play a role in the process of diffusion of standard Castilian Spanish was established. At an intrazone leveL Table 2 (human geography analysis) shows that the urban nuclei with by far the highest degree of interaction (mobility) within their relative dialect areas are Murcia City (Central zone), Cartagena (Coast zone), Lorca (Guadalentin zone), Caravaca (Northwest zone), and Yecla (Altiplano mne); they are followed by other considerably smaller urban locations in their particular zone. At an inter-zone level, the Central zone (41%) and particularly Murcia Oty have the highest scores, which means that this area has a greater opportunity for contact with innovations coming from Spanish regions other than the local urban centres. The Coast zone, which includes Cartagena, has the second highest interaction score {32%). This hierarchy by interaction potential characteristics of dialect areas and urban centres is also reflected in the

T..,le :Z. Correlation of results. JnterKtioa Pobontlal

IDda (IPI)

Grmty Centre

Murcia City (Central) Cartqcna (Coast) Lon:a (Guadalentln) Carawa (NorthWI!Sl)

Yeda (Altiplano)

cmtre

zone

18.35% 5.67% 1.39% 0.76% 0.13%

78.17% 14.95'1b 4.13% 2.14% 0.51%

llumaft P"'f"''llry"""'ysis Tr.....,..rtaticm plVYilion to/from Murda Oty

Daily MOdWiiled Mobility Iadet

(bu ud train clenlitia)

-60 52 32 16

1,188.384 427,766 297,871 118.863 108,699

Ultpistic.....,... Swulanlisatioa lnda fonuiable (d) cmtre zone 41% 32% 14% 5% 4%

11% 20'16 12% 2% 2%

r.

... 0

li

D

'1!1

U8n Manuel Hemandez-Campoy

Murcian Region Dialect Alas -AII-.ofliOblasmd lnillsadaJ -AII-.of52.bulesmdlnillsadaJ

1: CI!NTllALZ.. 2:COASTZ.. l: GUADo\LI!MTlNZZ.. 4: NOitiHWESTZale 5: ALTIPLANO 7.aar

- A I I - . o f n .._ ..... lnllluadar I

- - A B - . o f l6bulesllld . . . .. ,

Pipre 3. The density of transportation provision (bus and train) for Murcia. Cartapa.Lorca. Caravaca and Yec:la.

public transportation provision (bus and train densities) statistics in Table 2 md Figure 3 (see also Serrano 2001); as well as in the measurement of daily mechanised mobility (car, train. bus. etc.) in the five dialect areas (c.A.R.M. 2000:55) in Table 2 (human geography analysis). Once an interaction potential index was obtained and a hierarchy oj intra-regional urban centres established, our next step was to measure the actual use of standard (Castilian Spanish: north-central Spanish) and nonstandard (Murcia Spanish: southern Spanish) forms in this traditionally nonstandard region. This allowed us to analyse the possible relationship between the geolinguistic patterns of cllifusion of standard Castilian Spanish over the

Diffusion ofstandard featwa

region of Murcia and the existing standard/non-standard performance of Murdan speakers. For the purpose of this study, variation analysis was carried out focussing on intervocalic /dl deletion, this being a clear marker in this speech community. Instances of past participle endings with two forms of the variable (d) were considered: the conservative form, which is realised as a voiced interdental fricative [~);and the innovating zero fonn. Fifty geographically diverse samples of casual speech (of 1Q-15 minutes each) from age-graded male and female speakers belonging to the same sodal class spectrum were used. There were thus 10 samples recorded per zone: 3 from the gravity centre and 7 from the rest of the zone. The samples included 1,772 occurrences of the variable (d). Of these, only 14% (244) were realised as the standard variant [ll] from Castilian Spanish, and 86% {1,528) were deleted as in non-standard usage. Table 2 is a summary of the different indices. It displays the linguistic {standardisation index) and extralinguistic (interaction, transportation and mobility indexes) results obtained for each gravity centre correlated with the human geography and linguistic analyses. For the variable (d), the pattern of geolinguistic behaviour of the Murcian dialect areas and gravity centres largely coincides with the pattern of sociolinguistic behaviour of the Murcian speech community. From an atomistic point of view, the presence of the standard variant [ll) is much higher in the capital of the region, Murcia Oty (41 %), than anywhere else, as well as being higher in the gravity centres of the dialect areas or zones. This fact allows us to predict a pattern of geographical diffusion of Castilian Spanish, the standard, throughout the region of Murcia following a hierarchical structure which is similar to that obtained using gravity models. After all, not all cities play the same role, nor do they have the same importance, but they do constitute a hierarchy in which demographic as well as functional and physical distances have a significant influence (see the 'central place theory' in Christaller 1966). The regional urban network hierarchy of Murcia is overtly reflected both in the geolinguistic and sociolinguistic behaviour of the region and in its different dialect areas and gravity centres with different scores for the variable (d). If change goes through a number of stages in the transition from the categorical use of one variant to its categorical replacement by another (x > x/y > y), Murda Oty is leading the adoption of the standard form, with the other localities and dialect areas being more conservative: whereas the Central zone and Murda Oty (core) are in a more advanced stage of development and show a clearer variability range in the use of both the local and the standard

33

34

Juan Manuel Hemindez..Qunpoy forms, the others (periphery) are in the initial stages of the process and still exhibit categorical uses ofthe local form, with much less or no variability presenL A real-time analysis in 25 years time, for example, could confirm this tendency. From a holistic perspective, looking at the five different dialect areas, the presence of the standard variant is higher in Central zone (22% ), where there is much movement (flux) because it is the most densely populated, has a greater concentration of urban and industrialised areas, and has much more transportation provision as well as mechanised mobility (Table 2). Population size is an important ingredient of diffusion processes, since interpersonal contacts are largely a function of population size and distance: people living in densely populated areas are expected to come into contact more easily and more frequently than those living in sparsely populated areas (Britain 2002; HemaindezCampoy 1999a; Trudgill1992b ). Additionally, following the gradient principle (C. Oark 1967; W. Oark 1982), the neighbourhood effect (Rogers 1985) and the friction ofdistance (Bradford & Kent 1977), the greater population concentration in the Central zone provokes a higher neighbourhood effect, which has an impact on mobility (interaction) and on the extent of exposure to contact with the local focal area (Murcia City). Our geolinguistic analysis displays different degrees of interaction potential and exposure to contact with innovations. On the other hand, the sociolinguistic analysis exhibits different levels of usage of the standard feature which significantly match the geolinguistic results (see Table 2). This correlation of geolinguistic and sociolinguistic patterns of linguistic behaviour shows how local features, such as the deletion of intervocalic /d/, are being eroded by the process of standardisation towards Castilian Spanish following a hierarchical structure of diffusion based on city size and distance- from larger to smaller urban centres, though proportionally dependent on the frictional effect of distance (the gradient principle). Obviously, a change in the diffusion models could take place, ultimately, provided that dramatic demographic, economic, political or even geographical changes occur, or simply, provided that attitudinal and linguistic factors are sufficiently favourable to allow it.

Conclusion

The use of standard Castilian Spanish features is spreading gradually and consistently across the Murcian region and among the different Murcian social substrata to the detriment of southern local linguistic features. Geolinguisti-

Diffusion ofstandard featwa

cally speaking, this slow but steady erosion of local features under the pressure ofstandardisation follows a hierarchical structure ofdiffusion, from larger to smaller urban centres: Murcia City in particular is undergoing this process of standardisation to a greater extent and at higher rate than other parts of the region. Furthermore, orthography is playing a crucial role in favour of the standardisation process in the non-standard areas. Sociolinguistically speaking, the route this general and gradual process of linguistic standardisation of Castilian features is following in Murcia is unevenly affecting the different linguistic features that characterise and define this local variety. It starts with those less prominently local ones and progresses to the more salient local features. But it is the latter group of variables (word-final and word-internal postvocalic /s/) that are more resistant to standardisation. They are essentially southern features which are so deeply rooted within the Murdan speech community that they are part of the local Peninsular Spanish identity. Finally, we must also say that the combination of diachronic and synchronic perspectives, as well as of geolinguistic and sociolinguistic anal~ may help in the detection of a standardisation process in a traditionally and eminently non-standard community.

Note • I would lib to thank David Walton, Juan Antonio Ortillas-Espinosa, Josi Marfa JimmezCano, Rafael Monroy, Jean Hannah and the anonymous reviewer(s) for their comments on earlier versions of this manuscript; and also the editors, Jenny Cheshite and David Britain,

for leading this enthusiastic initiative to produ~ a Festschrift for Peta' 'lhldgill and for having given me the opportunity to contribute to it.

References Alvar, M. (Ed.). (1996). Mtmual de Dillkctologla Hispdnica: PJ P.spaiiol de Espt~iia. Barcdona: Ariel. Bradford. M.G. & ICmt, W. A. ( 1977). HUIIUUI Gmgraplty; Thttoria tmdAppliaJtions. Oxford: Oxford Uniwrsity Press. Britain, D. (2002). Spa~ and spatial diffusion. In J. K. Chambers, P. 'lhldgill, & N. ScbillingEstes (Eds.), The Htmdbook ofl.tlng&Ulgtt Variation and O.tmge (pp. 603137). Oxford:

Blackwell.

3S

36

Juan Manuel Hemindez-Campoy C.A.R.M. (2000). Plan Integral de Transportes de Vrajeros de Ia Comunidad Aut6norm~ de Ia Regi6n de Murcia: Informe sobre Ia Movilidad m Ia Comunidad Aut6noma. Murcia: Consejeria de Pol1tica Territorial y Obras PUblicas. Clark. C. (1967). Population Growth and Land Use. London: MacMillan. Clark, W. ( 1982 ). Recent research on migration and mobility. A review and interpretation. Progress in Planning. 18, 1-56. Cbristaller, W. (1966). Central Plllces in Southern Germany. New York/London: PrenticeHalL G6mez-Ortfn, F. (forthcoming). El dialecto Murciano y sus variedades. In J. M. JimmezCano (Ed.). Haugen, E. {1966). Dialect, language and nation. In J. B. Pride & J. Holmes (Eds.), Sociolinguistics (pp. 97-112). Harmondsworth: Penguin. Hernmdez-Campoy, J. M. ( 1999a). Geolingaistica: Modelos de Interpretaci6n Geogrdjia~ para Lingllistas. Murcia: Uni't'ersidad de Mwcia. Hernmdez-Campoy, }. M. ( 1999b). Geolinguistic models of analysis of the spatial diffusion of sociolinguistic innovations. Strulia Anglica Posnanknsia, 34, 7-42. Hernandez-Campoy, }. M. (2003). Exposure to contact and the geographical adoption of standard features: two complementary approaches. Language in Society. 32(3), 227-255. Hernandez-Campoy, J. M. {forthcoming). Requisitos te6rico-metodol6gicos para el estudio geoJinsillstico del dialecto Murciano. In J. M. Jimenez-Cano {Ed.). Hemandez-Campoy, J. M. & Conde-Silvatre, J. C. (1999). The social diffusion of linguistic innovations in fifteenth century England: chancery spellings in private corespondence. Cruulemos de Filologla Ingleso. 8, 251-274. Hemandez-Campoy. J. M. & Jiminez-Cano, J. M. {forthcoming). Analisis del proceso de estandarizaci6n lingfifstica en Mwcia: el uso de archivos sonoros radiof6nicos para su medici6n diacr6nica y sina6nica.In J. M. Jimmez-Cano (Ed.). Hemandez-Campoy, J. M. & liudgill. P. J. (2002). Functional compensation and Southern Peninsular Spanish /sl loss. Folia Linguistica Historica, XXIII, 31-57. Jiminez-Cano, J. M. {Ed.). (forthcoming). Estrulios Sociolingiiisticos del Dialecto Murciano. Murcia: Universidad de Murcia. Lapesa. R. (I 988). Historia de Ia Lengua Espanola (9th edition). Madrid: Gmlos. Leith, D. (1983). A Social HUtory ofEnglish. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul Mar-Molinero, C. (1997). The Spanish-speaking World. A Practical Introduction to Sociolinguistic Issues. London: Routledge. Mar-Molinero, C. (2000). 11ae Politics of Language in the Spanish-speaking World. London: Routledge. Martinez Martin, F. ( 1983 ). Fonitica y SociolingiUstim en Ia Cirul4d de Burgos. Madrid: CSIC. Milroy, J. (1999). The consequences of standardisation in descriptive linguistics. InT. Bex & R. J. Watts (Eds.), Standard English: The Widening Debate (pp. 16-39). London: Roudedge. Milroy, J. (2001). Language Ideologies and the Consequences of Standardization. /Ofli'7Uil of Sociol~UtUl,5(4),530-555.

Monroy Casas, R. {2002). El sistema entonativo del espai\ol murciano coloquial. Aspectos comunicativos y actitudinales. .Estudios Filo16gicos. 37, 77-101.

Diffusion of standard features Narbona, A., Cano, R., &: Morillo-Velarde, R. (1998). El Espaltol Hablado m Andalucla. Barcelona: Ariel Penny, R. (1991). A History of the Spanish Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Penny, R. (2000). Variation and Change in Spanish. Cambridge: Cambridge Uniwrsity Press. Rogers, E. M. (1985). Diffusion of Innovations (2nd edition). New York: F~ee Press. Romaine. S. (1982). Socio-historical Linguistics: Its Status and Methodology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Romaine, S. (1988). Historical sociolinguistics: problems and methodology. In U. Ammon, N. Dittmar, &: K. J. Mattheier (Eds.), Sociolinguistics: An Irrtemationtll Handbook of the Sciena ofLanguage and Society, Vol. 2 (pp. 1452-1469). Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Serrano, J. M. (2001). Los Thznsportes m Ia Rtgi6n de Murcill. Murcia: Fundaci6n Centro de Estudios Hist6ricos e Investigaciones Locales Rqi6n de Mun:ia. Van de Velde, H., Gerritsen, M., &: Van Hout, R. (1996). The devoicing of fricatives in standard Dutch: a real-time study based on radio recordings. Language Variation and Change. 8, 149-175. Van de Velde, H., Van Hoot, R., &: Gerritsen, M. (1997). Watching Dutch change: a real time study of variation and change in standard Dutch pronunciation. Journal of Sociolinguistics, 1(3), 361-391. Williams, L (1987). Aspectos Sociolingiiisticos dtl Habla dt Ia Ciudad dt VaUadolid. Valladolid/ Exeter: University ofValladolid and University of Exeter. Wdson, J. (1990). Politiadly Speaking. Oxford: Blackwell. Zamora-Vicente, A. (1989). Dialtctologla Esptlilola (2nd edition). Madrid: Gredos.

37

Systemic accommodation Dennis R. Preston Michigan State University

In Dialects in Contact (1986a), Peter Trudgill notes that the salient features of phonology (based on phonetic differences and surface phonemic contrasts) are the ones most likely to be accommodated to in dialect contact situations. Although a number of studies of dialect contact have followed, the opportunity to investigate contact through spread (doubtless enhanced by the greater access to and influence of urban areas) as well as through immigration has not been taken advantage of extensively. In a number of recent studies (e.g. Evans et al. 2000), accommodation by three groups to the Northern Qties Chain Shift (NCCS), an extensive rotation of vowels in urban northern areas of the United Sates, has been examined. One group, mid-Michigan small-town and rural residents, are incorporating features of the NCCS in a typical case of spread as the shift moves northward in Michigan from such urban centers as Detroit, Flint, Lansing, and Grand Rapids. The other two groups are more recent arrivals to urban southeastern Michigan, where the change is all but complete among the younger majority population. The first of these, in Ypsilanti, a small city west of Detroit, are European American immigrants from the upper south, principally West Vtrginia, Tennessee, and Kentucky, who came seeking employment in airplane factories during World War II and continued to come as those factories were retooled into automobile plants after the war. The second, in Lansing, the state capital, is African American; many are descendents of immigrants from Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia, who were part of a significant migration to the urban north between the two world wars. Previous work on these groups has focused on the details of the social and individual factors (e.g. age, status, sex, network, local loyalty) and the linguis-

1 R.

Preston

00

~ 1. Partial vowel system (plotted from means scores of F1-F2 measurements) aylord, Michigan male respondent (European American, grade school graduate, tradesman, born 1920) interviewed in 1970 for the DARE project (Ito 1999).

nronments {e.g., preceding and following environments) which correlate ranting (F2) and raising (F1) of the be/ vowel} llis chapter looks at changes in the vowel systems2 of these groups and D lay the groundwork for more detailed accounts of the development of ~ure to develop) a koine phonological system {Trudgill1986a: 107). I will ler, therefore, both the "parent" vowel system of each group as well as the 1S which have emerged through spread, in the case of the mid-Michigan , and contact, in the case of the other two. will assume that the parent vowel system of the mid-Michiganders and ban southeast Michiganders was the same. Figure 1 is a vowel chart based ~ speech of a male speaker from rural mid-Michigan, born in 1920, who ~corded for the Dictionary of American Regional English (DARE) project he was 50 years old in 1970. His plot represents a typical Michigan system ~ the intluence of the NCCS. iopting the outline of American English phonology presented by Labov :7), this speaker's vowel system is as follows {with phonetic values in rts):

Systemic accommodation

Short

iy [ri] iw [IU) ey [£1)

uw [uu)

Ingliding Front Back ih [ra]

ow [Au]

eh [ta)

oh [;,)

ay [ar)

oy [;:,1) aw [au]

zh [z:)

ah [a]

Front Upgliding Front i [1]

Back u [u]

e [t)

A (A) o [a]

Long Back Upgliding

I assume that the low-front vowel for such speakers is already universally tensed (or peripheral, see e.g. Ito 1999) and a part of the long vowel system (zh). The (ih) and (eh) vowels in this system refer only to vowels which precede (r) and involve neutralization of (iy) and (i) on the one hand and (ey), (e), and (zh) on the other. The vowel system of this speaker is nothing like the advanced NCCS system of present-day urban southeastern Michigan, as shown in Figure 2. Although these two vowel representations do not show the entire system, the older mid-Michigan speaker has none of the advanced characteristics associated with the NCCS: raising of (zh), fronting of (o) (and conflation of (ah)

oh

Fipre 2. '"Janice R~ 15-year-old European American female, Detroit, Michigan (adapted from Figure 2, Labov 1996).

41

and (o)), lowering and fronting of (oh),lowering or backing of (e), backing of (A), and lowering of (i). In spite of these massive phonetic changes to the short vowels, the vowel system of even advanced NCCS speakers is not radically different from the one shown for the speaker in Figure 2: Short

Long

Front Upglidins

Back Upgliding uw [uu]

Front i [e)

Back u [u]

e [A]

A(~)

iy [Ii) iw [IU] ey [EI)

o [ae]

ay [cu]

ow [Au] oy [~1] aw [au]

lngliding Front Back ih [13] eh [£3]

oh [a:]

aeh [13]

ah [ae]

In some cases the phonetic value of the shifted (e) vowel is [a:] rather than [A]. While it is true that raised (ae) encroaches on the phonetic territory of (eh) and eventually even that of (ih), as shown above, these latter vowels are part of the (r)-system, and (ae) does not occur in either the old or new system before tautosyllabic (r). The mid-Michigan speakers reported on here have adapted their systems to the NCCS to various degrees. Figure 3 shows the vowel system of a young, working-class male from rural mid-Michigan who appears to have made little progress in the NCCS. As in the parent vowel system, this respondent"s (ae) is still lower than his (e); his (o) is still back of the grand mean for F2 of all vowels (indicated by the vertical •crosshair"line); his (o), (oh) and (A) relations are very much like that of the older mid-Michigan respondent shown in Figure 1. Figure 4, however, shows the emergingNCCS system of Kate, a 47-year-old mid-Michigan female from the same location as the respondent shown in Figure 3. This respondent"s (ae) is higher than her (e), which is below the horizontal Fl grand mean and close to the vertical F2 grand mean. Although her (o) is back of the srand mean for F2, it is quite close to it. Her (o), (oh) and (A) relations are also like that of the older mid-Michigan respondent shown in Fipre 1. The classic determiner of full participation in the NCCS is the relationship between (e) and (o) (Labov 1994: 193). As (e) moves back and (o) moves forward, they reach a point where their F2 scores are equal or nearly so (as they are in Figure 2 above for •Janice R"). •Kate'" (Figure 4) is clearly on her way to such an alignment.

Systemic accommodation

,. Figure 3.

"Jonathan~ a

17-year-old mid-Michigan male, working-class respondent (Ito

1999).

Adjustments to the NCCS from the older Michigan system involve the following: 1. The (z) vowel raises and develops an inglide.

2. The low back vowel (o) becomes central or even front. 3. The mid back vowel (oh) becomes low and perhaps central. 4. The mid-front nonperipheral vowel (e) becomes low-front or mid-central. 5. The high-front nonperipheral vowel (i) lowers to mid-front (in the most advanced stages of the shift only). A speaker like "Kate.. (Figure 4) has had to make adjustments to her system only on the basis of (z)-(e) reversal. Since (z)-raising and fronting is along the peripheral track of the vowel system (often with a centering diphthong), there is little chance for the two forms to merge since (e) does not develop any diphthongal characteristics. Although their positions have changed, they, and the other phonemic units of this emerging system, are dearly linked to those of the previous one, and awareness of the shift is nonexistent (Preston 1997), in spite of the fact that the opportunity for homophonic clashes between the two

43

44

Dennis R. Preston

Figure 4.

"Kate~

a 47-year-old mid-Michigan female. middle-class respondent {Ito

1999).

systems is considerable. For example, nonshifted mid-Michiganders will hear NCCS socks as sacks, CtJught as CtJt. and so on (e.g., Labov 1994: 189). I expect, as Trudgill (1986a:38) observes about changes to a system &om systems which are alike, that long-term accommodation to the NCCS by midMichigan speakers will follow the same route as that taken by urban SOutheasterners, who have already adopted it and who began from a similar vowel system alignment. I turn next to the Appalachian immigrants to Ypsilanti. Their regional backgrounds (largely Kentucky, Tennessee, southern West Vuginia) suggest that they were participants in the Southern Shift vowel changes shown in Figure 5. To confirm that this pattern is the parent system of the Ypsilanti respondents, DARE informants were again analyzed, and the vowel system of a 54year-old working-class woman &om Kentucky, recorded in 1969, is shown in Figure6. This speaker clearly has many features of the Southern Shift (and some southern features not shown in Figure 5). Her (ay) vowel is monophthongized

Systemic acoommodation

~----------~5~----~~ 7

6

Fipre 5. The Southern Shift (Labov 1996).

and fronted, strikingly forward of the usual (o) onset for (ay). Her (e) and (ey) vowels are reversed, as shown in Figure 5, and her (i) vowel is more peripheral although not higher than her (iy) vowel. Her (ae) vowel is somewhat raised and fronted, although not as dramatically as Figure 5 would suggest, and her (uw) and (u) vowels are fronted (and so is (A) although her (ow) is not). Finally, the onset of her (aw) diphthong is also considerably fronted, another feature common to European American southern vowel systems, and her (o) and (oh) vowels are dose, a feature also common to many southern varieties. Putting the full Southern Shift system into the one outlined above yields the following: Short

Long Front Upgliding

Back Upgliding

lngliding Back

uw [a:]

Front ih [Ia)

ow(£u]

eh [c)

oh [au]

oy (:J:] aw[zu)

zh [z:]

ah [a]

Back

Front i [ia]

u [e)

e [ea]

A

[s]

iy [£1] iw (n•] ey (ell)

o (a]

ay (a:]

45

46

Dennis R. Praton

e8 e 8

\ Fipre 6. Vowel system (partial) of a 54-year-old Barberville, Kentucky fema1e respondent (European American, grade school graduate, bom 1915) interviewed in 1969 for the DARE project (Evans 2001).

The system implied by this repositioning is so different from either of those given above that the subsystem categories are no longer intact. This is not the place to outline a full phonological treatment of the Southern Shift, but the system suggested by the above may look something like the following: Short

Lon&

Front Upslidins Back Upslidins u [e) A

[s]

o [a]

iy [e1] iw [Itt] ey [cu] ow [eu] aw [zu]

lnsJidins Front i-ih [1a]

Back uw[a:]

e-eh [ea]

ay [x]

zh [ae:] ay [a:]

ah [a]

oh [au]

The short vowel system has almost disappeared, and an elaborate long ingliding system has developed (made even more complex by the raising of (or), (ohr), and (owr) not shown here).

Systemic accommodation

This is the vowel system that Appalachian immigrants would have brought to Michigan, and it is decidedly different from the older Michigan system to which the NCCS system has spread and is spreading. It is an excellent candidate for a more careful investigation of dialect contact The Southern Shift system, as it confronts the NCCS system, will have the following matches and mismatches. 1. The (z) vowel, which bas some fronting and raising movement in the

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

Southern Shift (though perhaps not as much as sometimes claimed; see, for example, Feagin 1996), will encounter a similar vowel in the NCCS. However, the raised (z) of the NCCS, which bas gained a centering diphthong, will occupy roughly the same Fl-F2 space with the same offglide phonetic characteristics as the Southern Shift's raised and fronted (e), resulting in potential homophonic clashes between such items as bed and bad, Beth and bath, etc. (o), which is low back in the Southern Shift. will encounter a dramatically different (fronted) vowel in the NCCS. Perhaps more importantly, the position of the fronted NCCS (o) will overlap with the Southern Shift's monophthongized and fronted (ay), producing a homophonic clash between time and Tom, ride and rod, etc. The lowered and retracted onset of (ey) of the Southern Shift will make it close to the unchanged (ay) diphthong of northern speech in general (not just NCCS varieties). Homophonic clash could arise between such items as bait and bite, raid and ride, etc. The raised onset of (e) will come close to the (ey) of northern speech, but since the Southern Shift vowel will have a centering diphthong and the northern vowel will continue to have a front glide target, there will be no clash. (But see 1 above for the potential clash between Southern Shift (e) and NCCS (z).) Most advanced speakers of the Southern Shift (only shown slightly in Figure 6) will have a tense and fronted onset for (i) (with a centering offglide) which could produce a homophonic clash with the most advanced tokens of(z) raising in the NCCS (e.g., big and bag, hid and had). Similarly, most advanced speakers of the Southern Shift (again shown only slightly in Figure 6) have lowered and retracted onsets to (iy) which will make them close to northern /ey/, producing homophonic clashes between such items as beat and bait, feed and fade, etc.

47

7. Not shown in Figures 2, 3 and 4, NCCS speakers are also fronting (uw), although not in some environments (e.g., before /IJ) where Southern Shift speakers are. 8. NCCS speakers are not fronting /u/, /ow/, /A/ (the last of which, in fact, they back), or the onset of /awl as Southern Shift speakers are, but there is little chance for homophonic clash in any of these. 9. Southern monophthongization of ('f) will not dash with NCCS b) since the latter has fronted and lowered. 10. The position of southern (oh) appears to be close to the lowered and fronted (oh) of the NCCS. Not shown in Figures 5 and 6, however, is the fact that southern (oh) is often diphthongal, phonetically dose to [caw]. There is no danger of overlap with southern (aw) since the latter's onset has shifted forward, but this southern (oh) will cause homophonic clashes with NCCS (aw) in such pairs as louse and loss, moth and mouth. Other more limited features of the Southern Shift or of southern speech in general (e.g., raising and retraction of (ar), (ohr), and (owr) and merger of (i) and (e) before nasals) are not considered here, although the former are part of a systematic change. Figure 7 shows the vowel system of a working-class Kentucky female who immigrated to Michigan in 1953 at the age of30. "Edna" shows preservation of the major characteristics of the Southern Shift. Her (e) and (ey) vowels are reversed in height and peripherality, and her (i) and (iy) vowels nearly are. Her (z) vowel is only minimally raised and fronted, as in most southern systems; it is clearly in the lower left quadrant of her vowel S)'Stell4 not in the upper left, as seen in the more NCCS-influenced system in Figure 4. (uw) and (u) (though not (A) and (ow)) are fronted, as is the onset of (aw). In general, therefore, she seems to have found the dangers outlined in 1-10 above to be important, and has failed to adopt features of the NCCS in her 46 years in Michigan. Her (ay), however, is not as dramatically fronted as in the Southern Shift (e.g., Figure 5). Since it seems to overlap with her (o) and (oh) vowels, she appears to be adding even another item to this territory, but that would be the case only if she preserved the monophthongal southern character of the vowel. An investigation of her (ay) vowels reveals, however, that she has not. In fact, the diphthongal character ofher (ay) vowels makes them indistinguishable from those of a typical Michigander. J Why would this one feature stand out in her system (and the majority of older Appalachian immigrants to Michigan studied)? Although a social factor

Systemic accommodation

' -Fipre 7.

"Edna~

,

a 76-year-old Ypsilanti female, working-class respondent (Evans

2001).

may also contribute to a complete understanding of this modification, I believe much of the reason lies in the contrast between the two systems, interestingly located in the low-vowel area, precisely the area identified by Labov (1991) as most crucial in distinguishing the regional vowel systems of American English. Recall that the onset of (ay) is fronted when it is monophthongized in the Southern Shift. This is a necessary move, or the onset of (ey) could not lower and retract, taking it to nearly the original position of (ay). This fronting of the now monophthongal (ay) keeps it distinct from (o), which, in southern systems, is well to the back. When Appalachians come north, however, they find that their fronted (ay) monophthong lies directly over the NCCS frontshifted (o), making homophones of such items as Tom and time, as suggested above. Such speakers cannot simply diphthongize (ay) in situ, since that would interfere with the well-established lowered and retracted onset of (ey). The solution, therefore, is to diphthongize in the same place where the surrounding NCCS speech community speakers diphthongize: with an [a] onset to (ay). This is made all the more likely since (ay) monophthongization is the most frequently mentioned and caricatured item of southern pronunciation by

4t

50

Dennis R. Preston

northern speakers (Niedzielski & Preston 1999), and such speaken as "Edna, will have heard comments about their "southern accents~ often with regard to just that feature (Evans 2001). Whatever the social forces, a mixed system exists at the early stages of Appalachian accommodation to the NCCS. It removes a negatively caricatured southern feature while permitting alignment of one of the native system features- (ey) onset lowering- and avoiding potential merger with another vowel of the NCCS system- (o) -by adopting diphthongization. Figure 8 shows the vowel system of a more thoroughly accommodated Appalachian descendent in Ypsilanti, a 28-year-old, middle-class male. "Mark, shows none of the features of the Southern Shift preserved in "Edna's, system (Figure 7). Neither his (e) and (ey) nor (i) and (iy) vowels are revened in height and peripherality, and his (z) vowel is more raised and fronted than in most southern systems. Although it is still in the lower left quadrant of the vowel system, so is his (e), as seen in the more NCCSinfluenced system (Figure 4). He shows no evidence of fronting of (uw), (u), (A), (ow), or the onset of (aw) (positioned in exactly the same space as his (o), as is the onset of his (ay) diphthong). Nevertheless, his (o) is fronter than

• 1100~---------------------------------------_.

Fipre 8.

"Mark~

_______________

~

a 28-year-old Ypsilanti male, middle-class respondent (Evans 2001).

Systemic accommodation

"Edna's'" (only 287 Hz back of his {e), in fact, while "Edna's'' two vowels are separated by 727Hz) and more clearly separate from his {oh), also more typical of northern systems than the more Appalachian ones shown in Figures 6 and 7. In general, "Mark's'" vowel system looks more like "Jonathan's~ the relativelyunshiftedmid-Michigan young male (Figure 3), than either the more advanced NCC5-influenced speaker ("Kate~ Figure 4) or the more conservative Appalachian-oriented speaker {"Edna", Figure 7). This look at two contrasting Appalachian systems, one from an actual immigrant and the other a son of an immigrant, shows that the slight system modification made by the immigrant was not maintained into the second generation. "Mark's" mother, who immigrated from Kentucky to Ypsilanti at age 6 stands exactly between "Edna,. and "Mark,. on nearly every feature. In spite of the obvious Appalachian speech input "Mark,. and those of his generation received, the effect was only to retard, not significantly modify, his eventual acquisition of the local system. What, then, of accommodation to the NCCS of African Americans, whose time in southeastern Michigan has been significantly longer {by at least one generation) than that of Appalachians? Among characterizations of African American southern vowel systems, the most comprehensive is Bailey and Thomas {1998). In it, they list the following characteristics of the African American southern vowel system {with a special interest in comparing it to southern European American systems). 1. Merger of {i) and (e) before nasals

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

Monophthongization of (ay) before voiced obstruents Merger of tense and lax vowels before IV Merger of /ow/and {oh) before /r/ Back onset of (aw) Nonfronted back vowels. No lowering of onset of (ey) Nomergerof(o)and(oh) (Bailey&Thomas 1998:105)

These details show that the Southern Shift was not characteristic of African American speech in the south, and data studied from DARE tapes confirms this. Figure 9, the vowel plot of an Alabama DARE respondent, is typical of African American speakers born around the turn of the 20th century. Except for the fronting of (ay) (and accompanying monophthongization), this speaker's vowel plot (and, presumably, the vowel systems ofAfrican Americans who migrated to Lansing) is free ofsouthern features (although the (i)-{ e) conflation before nasals and back vowel raising before {r) characteristics are not

51

~

Dennis R. Preston

investigated here). It is not at all unlike the parent system of mid-Michigan~ shown in Figure 1. We might expect, then, that accommodation to the NC system would run into only the same few impediments that the mid-Michij systems did (Figures 3 and 4). Figure 10 shows the vowel system of a 21-year-old male middle-class La ing respondent. Although he was bom in Lansing, "Dave• has not progressed even as faJ the NCCS as "Jonathan• (Figure 4), a young European American speaker & mid-Michigan. His (z) is no more raised than that of the Alabama spea shown in Figure 9; his (e) is not backed and lowered and is separated by c 400Hz from his (o). His (oh) is neither fronted nor lowered and is well se rated &om (o). His (ay) is fronted and monophthongized. There are, howe' Lansing African Americans who seem to have made some more accommo tion to the NCCS. The only really strikingly different feature of Ann's system (Figure 11 that her front vowel alignment, particularly the relative heights of (z) and 1

• e • .... e

~-----1

Fipre 9. Vowel system of a 61-year-old, Alabama working-class female mpon~ (African American, grade school graduate, bom 1905) interviewed in 1966 for DARE project (Jones 2003 ).

Systemic accommodation

is more NCCS-like than "Dave's". In spite of this adjustment, her (o) seems not at all fronted, more aligned with (A) in front-backspace than with (e), and her (ay) is fronted (and monophthongized). All the African American respondents studied in Lansing show this back vowel alignment - one in which (o) movement forward is very slight or not evident at all All the younger Ypsilanti Appalachian respondents show accommodation to the level of (o) fronting and beyond, although several of the first generation immigrants show the complex avoidance of (o) fronting described for "Edna" (Figure 8). From a systematic point of view, Trudgill's claim that speaken of like systems will follow similar paths to the same outcome is strongly confirmed in the path mid-Michiganden are taking to the NCCS system. Their accommodation parallels the development of the system in the urban southeastern Michiganders who are now passing it along to their rural, northern neighbon. Minimally, it is also the case that, although second-generation Appalachian immigrants rapidly accommodate to the NCCS shift, fint-generation immigrants do not move directly to the NCCS system but modify other elements

300400-

500600-

[H) 700800-

e

•-e -... e e

900-

10001100

Fipre 10. Vowel system of'"Dave~ a 21-year-old middle-class, African American lansing respondent (Jones 2003).

"

54

Dennis R. Preston

e

Figure 11. Vowel system of "Ann~ 42-year-old female, middle-class, Lansing African American (Jones in progress).

first- (ay) diphthongization, resulting in a minimal (and short-lived) koinmation which aligns with both the parent system and the system of the new environment. African Americans, however, in spite of the overall similarity of their systems to the mid-Michiganders, accommodate very little to the NCCS, and, more importantly, not at all to the second step of the shift - the fronting of Ia/ (i.e. (o)), a step already taken by even the second generation Appalachian immigrant. At first, this failure to accommodate would seem to deny the notion that like systems develop similarly towards new systems, but I will claim that a longer-term koin~ variety is developing among African Americans in Lansing (and, I believe, among many African Americans in the urban north). Although (ae)-fronting and raising may develop, it realizes only a regional orientation or identity. (o)-fronting, however, seems to symbolize an ethnic reorientation, one not acceptable to African American speakers. The emerging systems for African American speakers, therefore, appear to be ones which utilize the

Systemic accommodation

front vowel space as accommodation to a regional norm while retaining the alignment of the back vowel system for ethnic identity. If this seems an unlikely explanation for failure to move in the same direction from a similar system, it is important to recall that, in spite of the desire here to investigate vowel systems in contact, those contacts still take place in a social arena. That social arena provided by race in the United States is still an important one. Trudgill himself recognizes the importance of personal identity in the face of accommodation when he explains why he did not accommodate to American English /rei. This feature [i.e., American English /z/] would seem to be a~ obvious candidate for change during accommodation, since it involves a very simple

modification. English English speakers already have the vowel/z/ in their inventory, and it would therefore be a very simple matter to substitute this for Ia:! and say /dzns/ rather than /da:ns/. Southern English English has rom~~ru:e /rournzns/, so why not /dz.nsfl It has ant /rent/, so why not plant /plznt/? It is therefore not easy to explain the delay that occun in the acquisition of this feature amongst those English English speakers who accommodate to US English. Introspection, however, suggests a social psychological explanation. at least in my own case. Since this explanation stems from introspection, it may not be applicable in other cases, although informal discussions have indicated that other people may have the same experience. The explanation lies in the fact that the vowel/z/ in this lexical set is too salient an American feature. It is not adopted immediately because it sounds, and feels, too American. The stereotype is too strong. (1iudgill1986a: 18)

Race, of course, may very likely provide a much stronger deterrent than that felt by Trudgill. Everyone who has grown up in the United States knows that racial relations are at the very center ofsocial problems in our society, whatever view he or she may take about the causes of those problems. We observe a growing gap between rich and poor, a growing percentage of the population in prison, as well as the disorganization of family life and the deterioration of housing, services, and, above all, education in the inner cities. (Labov 1999: ix)

It is perhaps not too surprising that, given such social facts, very few of the characteristics described by LePage and Tabouret-Keller as necessities for accommodation apply in the case of African American accommodation to what is doubtless perceived as European American practice: We can only behave according to the behavioural patterns of groups we find it desirable to identify with to the extent that:

55

56

Dennis R. Preston

{i) we can identify the groups (ii) we have both adequate access to the groups and ability to analyse their behavioural patterns {ill) the motivation to join groups is sufficiently powerful, and is reinforced or reversed by feedback from other groups (iv) we have the ability to modify our behaviour. (LePage 8t Tabouret Keller 1985: 182)

Although some studies have dealt with the phonetic details of ethnic identity in dialect contact (e.g., Ash & Myhill1986; Graff, Labov, & Harris 1986; Henderson 1996; Knack 1991; Wolfram 1974), few have treated the development of the distinct systems which arise and the possibility of koineization. Doubtless careful consideration of both the social and linguistic factors which have been hallmarks of Peter Trudgill's contributions to our field will continue to share explanatory value, as I believe they do here.

Notes 1. Details of those investigations have been presented at numerous sociolinguistics conferences and aR summarized in Evans (2001); Evans et al. (2000); Evans et al. (to appear); Ito (1999); Ito and PRSton (1998); Jones (2003);Preston and Jones (to appear).

:a. Labov (2002) has shown how a systematic comparison ohowel systems in different dialect areas can account for~ dialect facts which cannot be explained in piecemeal investigations. I assume heR that that approach may also be usefol for the investigation of dialects in contact. 3· Appalachian speakers generally do not observe the moR complex southern rule which

permits monophthonsization of only those (ay) vowels which occur before voiced consonants and in final position. Nevertheless, Iloobd (spectrographically) only at (ay) vowels befoR voiced segments and in final position to determine this speaker's diphthongs in (ay), and all were clearly diphthongized.

References Ash, S. 8t Myhill. J, ( 1986). Linguistic correlates of inter-ethnic contact. In D. Sankoff (Ed.), Divmity and Diochrony (pp. 33-44). Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Bailey, G. 8t Thomas, E. (1998). Some aspects of African-American vernacular English phonology. InS. S. Mufwene, J. Rickford, G. Bailey, 8t J, Baugh (Eds.),AfricanAmerican English (pp. 85-109). London: Routledge. Evans, B. (2001). Dialect Contact and the Northern Cities Shift in Ypsilanti, Michigan. PhD. dissertation, Michigan State Univenity.

Systemic accommodation Evans, B., Ito, R., Jones, J., & Preston, D. (2000). Change on top ofchange: social and regional accommodation to the Northern Cities Chain Shift. In H. Bennis, H. Ryclceboer, & J. Stroop ( Eds. ), De Toelcomst van de Variatielinguistilc: Bundel artikelen aangebodm aan

Jo Daan bij gelegenheid van laaar negentigste wrjaart/Qg [Taal en Tongval51:1] (pp. 6186).

J., & Preston, D. (to appear). How to get to be one kind of Midwesterner: aa:ommodation to the Northern Oties Chain Shift. In T. E. Murray & B. L Simon (Eds.), Language Variation and Change in the American Midland: A New Look at •Heartland" English. Feapn. C. ( 1996). Peaks and glides in southern states short a. In G. Guy, C. Feagin, D. Scbiftiin, & J. Baugh (Eds.), Towards a Socitll science ofLangrMJge. Volume 1: Variation and Change in Language and ~ty (pp. 135-160). Amsterdam: Benjamins. Graff, D., Labov, W., & Hanis, W. (1986). Testing listeners' reactions to phonological markers of ethnic identity: a new method for sociolinsuistic raearch. In D. Sankoff (Ed.), Diversity and Diachrony {pp. 45-58). Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Henderson, A. (1996). The short a pattern of Phildelphia among African-American speakers. In M. Meymtoff (Ed.), (N)WAVES and MEANS: A Selection of Papers from NWAVE 24 [t.Jniversity of Pennsylvania Working Papers in Linguistics. Volume 3.1] (pp. 127-140). Ito, R. (1999). Diffusion ofUrbanSoundChangeinRuralMicbigan:ACaseofthe Northern Cities Shift. Ph.D. dissertation, Michigan State University. Ito, R. & Pn!Ston, D. (1998 ). Identity, discourse, and language variation. JollriUII ofLangauge and Social Psychology. 17( 4), 465-483. Jones. J. (2003). African Americans and the Northern Cities Vowel Shift in Lansing. PhD. dissertation, Michigan State University. Knack. R. (1991). Ethnic boundaries in linguistic variation. In P. Eckert (Ed.), New Ways of Analyzing Sound Change (pp. 251-272). New York: Academic Press. Labov, W. (1991). The three dialects of English. In P. Eckert (Ed.), New Ways ofAnalyzing Sound Change (pp. 1-44). New York: Academic Press. Labov, W. ( 1994). Principles of linguistic Change: Internal Factors. Oxford: Blackwell. Labov, W. (1996). ~ organization of dialect diversity in North America. Paper presented at the fourth International Conference of Spoken Language Processing, Philadelphia. Online version: http://www.ling.upenn.edu/phono_atlas/NationalMap/ NationalMap.html Labov, W. ( 1999). Foreword. In John Baugh (Ed.), Out of the Mouths of Slaves (pp. ix-xi). Austin: UnM!rsity ofTeus Press. Labov, W. (2002). Geographic evidence of the binary character uf the English vowel system. Paper presented to the New Ways of Analyzing Variation (NWAV) Conference, Stanford Unim-sity. LePage, R. B. & 'Dlbouret-Kdler, A. (1985). Acts ofIdentity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Niedzielski, N. & Preston, D. (1999). Folic Linguistics. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Pmton, D. R. (1997). The Northern Cities Chain Shift in your mind. In A. Thomas (Ed.), ]$$ues and Methods in Dialectology (pp. 37-45). Bangor, Wales: Department of Linguistics, University of Wales. Evans, B., Ito, R., Jones,

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Preston, D. R. & Jones, }. (to appear). AAE and identity: constructing and deploying linguistic resources. In H. S. Alim & J. Baugh (Eels.}, A Festschrift for Geneva Smitherman [tentative tide]. Wolfram, W. (1974). Sociolinguistic Aspects ofAssimilation: Puerto Rican English in New York City [Urban Language Series 9]. Arlington, VA:. Center for Applied Linguistics.

New dialect formation The focusing of -kum in Amman EnamAI-Wer University of Essex

The study of dialectal change is relatively straightforward when it is concerned with a continuity of change within a community, but there are more complex cases where there is no native dialect to develop from, but where new dialects are formed in the process of the formation of the community itsel£. Amman is a case in poinL It is a new city which has had no native dialect simply because it did not have a native population. At the turn of the 20th century, it was a deserted Roman site which had been used as a summer watering ground by the Bedouin tribes of the nearby Balga region. By 1906, it became home to 5000 or so Circassian settlers who were at that time monolingual in dialects of Adyge, a western branch of the North Caucasian language family. Unexpectedly, Amman was declared the capital city ofthe newly formed Emirate of'Iransjordan in 1921, and thus attracted migrants from other locations. By the 1930s it had received an additional 5000 migrants, mainly from the Balga and Houran regions in the north, Kerak and Madaba in the south, Haifa, Jaffa, Nablus, Jerusalem and Hebron in the west, as well as a few merchant families from Damascus. Internal migration from other Jordanian and Palestinian towns and villages increased steadily in the following decades, but the most sudden population inaeases occurred in the aftermath of the wars with Israel in 1948 and 1967. In the early 1950s Amman had just over 100,000 people, and by the late 1990s the population had increased more than fifteen times; it is currently estimated to be 1.6 million. So, even ifwe count the earliest emigrants, Amman only has three generations ofnative inhabitants at best.

6o

EnamAl-Wer

Population and dialect mixture The Amman population is mainly comprised of two groups: the Jordanians and the Palestinians. Unfortunately, no statistics are published which provide details of the breakdown of the citfs inhabitants in terms of their origins. Informal reports indicate that those of Palestinian origin comprise a majority in the cit)ls population, which is quite possible. A further important distinction is between Palestinians of urban and rural origins. Rural and urban Palestinian dialects can be readily distinguished by a number of linguistic features. The trend of linguistic developments in Palestinian dialects in Palestine itself is overwhelmingly in favour of the urban dialects (see the findings in Amara, Spolsky, & Tushyeh 1999). In Amman, too, the rural Palestinian dialects are certainly the losers. Although their demographic representation in the city may even be larger than the representation of urban dialects, none of the linguistic features which have become focused in Amman or which play an important role in the formation of its dialect are rural Palestinian in origin. So, the competing linguistic features in Amman are really of the urban Palestinian type on the one hand, and of the Jordanian east-bank type on the other. In terms of the number of speakers, these two types are roughly equally represented. In three generations, the speech of Amman has undergone a considerable degree of focusing, to the extent that it is now possible to speak of a distinctive dialect in its own right, which the younger generation in the city call Ammani. This is really a textbook case of the process of new dialect formation, as outlined in liudgill ( 1986a: Ch. 3). Here, first generation inhabitants speak dialects which can be easily identified with the original Jordanian or Palestinian towns from which they migrated. In the speech of the second generation there is a mixture of both types, and a complication in the socio-linguistic correlations. For instance, whereas in the speech of the first generation there is a straightforward correlation between origin of the speakers and linguistic usage, in the second generation gender emerges as an important factor, too. However, the speech of the second generation can still be identified as either Jordanian or Palestinian, most dearly through vocalic features. The mixture is considerably reduced in the speech of the current generation, and instead we find a high degree of stability of usage of certain linguistic features. the use of fudged forms, and very many totally new features (details are in AI-Wer 2002). The extra-linguistic aspects of the emergence and increased focusing of the new dialect are telling. The youngsters in Amman call themselves~­ maniyyiin~ which is a new derivation denoting the status of natives to the city. Their parents, on the other hand, even those who were hom in Amman, refer to

New dialect formation

themselves as [sukkaan Wllma:n] 'the dweHers of Amman~ while they affiliate themselves with the hometowns and villages of their forefathers. In my opinion, this is a significant development, which indicates that the city is acquiring a regional identity for the first time in its modern history. The symbols of this new identity are reflected in the youngsters" dear linguistic divergence &om the dialects spoken by their parents and their grandparents, and the agreement and awareness amongst themselves as to what is and what is not Ammani.

The research There are no linguistic descriptions of the input varieties, which is obviously a hurdle but not an insurmountable one. For the Jordanian ingredients, I drew on research which I had previously carried out on three major Jordanian dialects, two of which are located in the north (Ajloun and Suit) and one in the south (Kerak.). These data provided speech samples from speakers born as early as 1897. Much of the early internal emigration into Amman came from these locations. It is also easy to go back to these locations for more data. The hurdles in this connection are more serious in the case of the Palestinian dialects. No linguistic descriptions of the relevant Palestinian dialects are available. There are some investigations of particular locations (e.g. Garben 1958; Blau 1960), and some information can be found in dialectological worlcs, which mostly concern themselves with the classification of Arabic dialects (e.g. Fischer & Jastrow 1980), although I understand that a project for a linguistic atlas of Palestinian dialects is in preparation. To overcome the lack of background information in relation to the Palestinian dialects as much as possible, I included Palestinian speakers who were visiting relatives in Amman but who are normally resident in Palestine. Of course, this is not an ideal situation, especially since the Palestinian dialects as spoken by the visitors may include innovations which were not there thirty years ago. Details of the first stage of the resean:h, the sample of speakers and the research methodology can be found in Al-Wer (2002). The second stage focused on the younger generation, who are 13-20 years old. So far I have 20 speakers in this group, 11 female, and 9 male. I met and interviewed the youngsters in the Orthodox Sports Oub in West Amman During the summer holiday, the Club was very much their habitat. They spent most days by the pool-side and most evenings playing cards in the cafi, as far away as possible from their parents (ifthe latter happened to be there). I participated

61

62

Enam Al-Wer

in their card games and in their gossip before conducting group and individual interviews in the aub·s library (which was quiet and empty).

The pronominal suffix -kum One of the most interesting features of the newly formed dialect is the 2nd person plural pronominal suffix -kum. The database for this feature consists of ISO tokens collected from interviews and observations. One does not expect a 2nd person plural form to occur frequendy in individual interviews, except where the speakers may be telling a story that provides a context, in which such a feature can occur. It occurred far more frequently in group meetings, which provided ample opportunities for the speakers to address the group. A good source of data for -kum was openings of telephone conversations and messages left on my answer phone. Generally, Jordanians observe a certain etiquette in telephone conversations, which begin with a relatively long list of enquiries and wishes of good fortune and health addressed to the whole family (even if they had intended to speak to a particular individual), and hence an appropriate context for the use of plural forms. The 2nd person plural pronominal suffix -kum is a clitic form which can attach to nouns, verbs, and prepositions in a variety ofNP and VP constructions. Most often, it is equivalent to English plural 'you' or 'your~ As used in Amman, the -kum form is neutralised for gender. Below are examples to illustrate some of the constructions in which this clitic form occurs: (1) Ju:

luba:r-kum? what news-2PL 'What is your (pl) news?' {2) bju:t-kum homes-2PL 'your {pl) homes• {3) min-kum

from-2PL 'from you (pl.)' (4) salal-naa-kum asked-1PLSUBJECT-2PL 'we asked you (pl)'

New dialect formation

The data oollected from the first generation of Amman inhabitants, the Palestinian visitors, and my previous research in other Jordanian locations show that the ditic -kum does not occur in any of these varieties, nor in any of the urban dialects in the Levant region (more on this point below). On the other band, the younger generation in Amman only use this form and no other. I am satisfied that this feature is an innovation, 'made' and focused by the younger generation in Amman of both Jordanian and Palestinian origins. The form itself occurs in Oassical (Standard) Arabic, to which the speakers in Amman are regularly exposed. But, its function in the Standard variety is restricted to the 2nd person masculine plural, in contrast to the 2nd person feminine plural clitic form -kun. It can also be found in a number ofArabic dialects, e.g. Cairo, and Muslim Baghdadi Arabic. The -kum in Amman could not have come from these dialects. The generation of Amman speakers who use this form are the least likely to have had enough contact (or any oontact) with speakers of the Cairo dialect, and still less so with Baghdadi dialects, considering the geographical distance involved and lack of contact, or even familiarity on the part of most of Amman's youngsters, with Baghdadi Arabic. These dialects, although linguistic standards in their respective countries, do not exert any influence on I.evantine dialects. In fact, Egyptian Arabic in particular is not at all highly regarded in the Levant (contrary to its status in North Mrican oountries generally). Nonetheless, it is perfectly possible that -kum may have beoome fami1iar to Ammanis as a 'legitimate' 2nd person plural form through its occurrence as such in the Standard variety or in other dialects. The interesting question is, however, why it was chosen over any of the forms already present in the input dialects. In the following sections, I address this question, and attempt an explanation.

The 2nd person plural ditics in the input dialects In the major input dialects we find the forms summarised below: 2 pLmasc. 2pl.fem.

Jordanian Old northern dialects· New koineised northern forms Old southern dialects New koineised southern forms Palestinian

-leu -leu -leu -leu -leunl-kon

-kin

-leu (gender neutralised form) -lean -leu (gender neutralised form) -kunl-kon (gender neut'd form)

63

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Enam Al-Wer

By comparing Old with New Jordanian forms, we notice two developments. Firstly, the gender distinction is eliminated, and secondly the elimination is in favour of the masculine form, i.e. these dialects use the (originally) masculine form for both genden. This is also true of the developments in the 2nd plural pronouns, which eliminate the feminine pronoun /lintin/ and generalise the use of the masculine form /lintu/ 'you' for both sexes. The Palestinian dialects in the data from Amman do not show a gender distinction but rather an already simplified pattern, although in this case the simplification is in favour of the feminine form -kun!-kon. In addition to the input varieties, the formation of the dialect of Amman is influenced by koineisation at the regional level, involving the major cities in the Levant (particularly Jerusalem, Nablus, Damascus and Beirut). This can be quite dearly demonstrated with reference to the consonantal features which have become characteristic of the dialect of Amman and which are now almost identical to those found in the dialects of the four other cities. It makes sense, therefore, to look for -kum in the region as a whole. Fortunately, we have extensive details on this feature in Behnstedt's Sprachatlas von Syrien (1997). In addition, the author has checked on my behalf (for which I am grateful) his and othen' material in a number of Palestinian and Lebanese dialects. Map 271 (p. 543) in the Atlas shows that all of the urban dialects of Syria (descendant of the Arabic sedentary norm) have feminine -kun (or -kon) in a neutralised form, i.e. the same as the Palestinian dialects in Amman, and I am told by Behnstedt that this is also the pattern he has found in the Lebanese and Palestinian dialects. In other words, none of the dialects which may have influenced Amman bas -kum. All of the major and dominant dialects in the Levant have -kun, as in the input urban Palestinian dialects in Amman. To all intents and purposes, the form -kun appean to be the regional urban koine. So why has this form failed to make it in Amman?

Explanation: Markedness and simplification In looking for an explanation as to why -kun failed and -kum succeeded, two phenomena seem to be relevant. One is markedness and the other is simplification. In the context ofJordan, -kun is marked in two ways. Firstly, the Jordanian dialects which have a feminine form to contrast with the masculine form (such as the old traditional dialects, as in the list above) have -kin, with a front vowel, not -kun (or -Icon), with a back vowel. This difference is part of a systematic and salient alternation between /i/ and /u/ in Arabic dialects, with some in-

New dialect formation

digenous Jordanian dialects tending to Iii and others to /u/, but the fact is that all of the Jordanian dialects which maintain the gender distinction have an /il in the feminine form -kin. The Palestinian and urban Levantine form -kun is thus marked phonetically. Secondly, -kun is marked paradigmatically in that, as we have seen above, where gender neutralisation occurs in Jordanian dialects, it generalises the use of the masculine forms, not the feminine forms. This is also true of gender neutralisation in the 2nd plural pronouns, as noted above, as well as of gender neutralisations in the 3rd person plural ditics and pronouns. Thus, the choice of -kum may be seen as a way out, which avoids locally marked forms and patterns. In the choice of -kum, simplification, specifically morphophonemic regularisation by way of a more regular phonetic correspondence between the 2nd and the 3rd persons plural clitic forms, is also involved (see Trudgill,s {1986a: 102-107) discussion of simplification). Consider the paradigms listed below: 2pLmasc. 2pLfem. 3 pLmasc. 3pLfem.

Jordanian Old northern dialects

New koineised northern forms Old southern dialects New koineised southern forms Palestinian Amman

-ku -leu

-kin -ku

-leu

-hln

-leu -kun -leum

-leu -kun -kum

-hum -hum -hum -hum -hun -hum

-hin -hum -han

-hum -hun -hum

It can be argued that the Palestinian and the Ammani forms are more regular, although in different ways, than the Jordanian forms. The choice of -hum for 3rd person plural in Amman is in line with the Jordanian pattern, namely, where gender is neutralised, the masculine form is generalised, and the choice of -kum then is perfectly in keeping with this pattern, with the additional bonus of achieving regularity. Notice that the Palestinian forms are no less regular than the Amman forms, but they have not been successful in the formation of the new dialect. This is further evidence that it is the interplay of a number of parameters which determines the linguistic outcome of contact, as 'Ihldgill (1986a) demonstrates. A further issue which arises in the discussion of simplification as one of the riders in the change in this particular direction in Amman is the following. In the list above, we notice that the Jordanian dialects which have neutralised gender in favour of -ku have also neutralised -hum and -hinl-han in favour of -hum, but have not shifted -ku to -kum (like Amman has). In other

6J

66

Enam Al-Wer

words, if simplification and regularisation are factors in the shift from -ku to -kum, why haven't the Jordanian dialects outside Amman undergone the same development?

Area502

The answer to the above question may be that these processes were actually triggered by the dialect contact situation in Amman To explore this possibility, I now refer back to Behnstedt's Sprachatlas von Syrien. Map 271 (p. 534) shows that masculine -kum versus feminine forms /tfm/ or /tfanl (the [k] is affricated before front vowels in these dialects) are used in a relatively large area in eastern and southeastern rural and Bedouin Syrian dialects. These dialects are similar in this instance to Classical Arabic, which bas the forms -kum (masculine) versus -kun or -kin (feminine). But the most interesting location on this map is Area 502 in the southwest of Syria, which shows an identical feature and pattern to that found in Amman, namely gender-neutral-kum. Interestingly, this is a Syrian village on the northern border of Jordan and whose dialect is of the Hourani type, a well-known continuum of dialects which are typologically very different from Syrian dialects and which are considered by Arabic dialectologists to be northern Jordanian (Behnstedt, personal communication). The Houran region stretches from the area southwest of Damascus down to the outskirts of the Balga region to the northwest of Amman and indudes the city of Ajloun, which is one of the locations I investigated in 1987. Apart from -kum, the linguistic features listed for Area 502 in the Atlas are very similar to the linguistic features of the traditional dialect of Ajloun on the Jordanian side. It is very probable, I believe, that the neutralised -kum found by Behnstedt in this village is an innovation, and that the dialect, like the rest of the Hourani locations in Jordan and in Syria, originally showed gender distinction. The question is whether they originally had masculine -kum versus feminine /-tfinl, or masculine -ku versus feminine /-tJin/. If the former, then the most likely origin of the -kum in Area 502 is a straightforward case of neutralisation of gender in favour of a form which is already present in the dialect. If the latter, then the case of Area 502 becomes tantalizingly similar to Amman (see below). Behnstedt's Atlas does not help to resolve this. It shows that some locations to the south of Area 502 have -ku/-ko and /-tfm/, and others have -kum and 1-tJinl. I can now reveal (and I think Peter Trudgill appreciates the value of some personal encounters) that I am actually very familiar with Syrian Hourani

New dialect formation

through my late maternal grandmother who came &om the Hourani village oflzra' (south of 502). Occasionally, I also meet with relatives who live there. I can confirm that the forms I encountered &om these resources are masculine -ku/-ko and feminine /-tfm/, or a neutralised form -ku, i.e. the same as in Jordanian Hourani localities (e.g. Ajloun). We obviously need more reliable data to verify this, but let us entertain the possibility that the -kum of Area 502 was not there originally, but rather emerged as an outcome of some contact situation or influence &om other dialects, and that the dialect had -ku and It/in!, or neutralised -ku only. The influence on Syrian Hourani comes &om Damascus, which is the linguistic metropolis of Syria, and which has -kun. As shown in the Atlas, all of the locations except one on the route to Damascus northwards of Area 502 also have -kun. This means that the -kum of Area 502 may have emerged out of the same mixture as in Amman, namely -ku + -kun. The possibility that similar linguistic input can result in similar output in different places has been convincingly argued for by Peter Trudgill (for instance in Trudgill et al. 2000b ), and the theoretical value of a generalisation of this sort is obviously considerable.

References Al-Wer, E. (2002). Jordanian and Palestinian dialects in contact: vowel raising in Amman. In M. Jones & E. Esch (F.ds.), Lllnfllllle Change. The Interplay ofInternal, Extmud and Extrti-Linguistic Factors (pp. 63-79). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Amara, M., Spolsky, B., & Thshyeh, H. (1999). Sociolingui.stic reflexes of socio-political patterns in Bethlehem: preliminary studies. In Y. Suleiman (Ed.), Lllngwage and Society in the Middle East and North Afria~. Studies in Variation and Identity (pp. 58-80). Surrey: Curzon. Behnstedt, P. ( 1997). Sprachatlas von Syrien. Waesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Blau, J. (1960). Syntax des ptdfstinensischen Bauerndudelctts wn Bir-Zlt. Walldorf-Hessen: Verlag ft,lr Orientkunde. Fischer, W. & Jastrow, 0. (1980). Handbuch der arabischen Dialelcte. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. GarbeR, I. (1958). Remarks on the historical phonology of an East Mediterranean Arabic dialect. Word.l4, 303-307.

67

Variation and sound change in New Zealand English Margaret Maclagan and Elizabeth Gordon University of Canterbury

Introduction• For years linguists have been puzzled by the Saussurean paradox (see, e.g., Labov 2001) which asks how people can continue to use a language effectively even though it is constantly changing. An answer to this paradox has been suggested by sociolinguists who have shown that variation is an integral part of any language and can be a vehicle oflanguage change. Pioneering work by Peter 1iudgill (1974a) for example, shows stable variation in Norwich, which could have existed for many generations, as in the use of both /g/ and /nl for words ending in -ing. Labov (1966) demonstrated that in New York City, language variation, correlated with social factors such as age, sex and socioeconomic class, was integral to language change. Labov, 1iudgill, and others have also shown through studies of style-shifting that language use is also sensitive to situation, degrees of formality, social distance between speakers, their age and so on. In this chapter we will look at patterns of variation which occur in the process of language change, whereby individuals use variants of the same variable in ways which cannot be explained by style-shifting or by the influence of social facton such as age, sex and socio-economic class. We will refer to this as individual internal variation and give evidence of it in the findings from two different New Zealand English (NZE) research projects. The Origins ofNew Zealand English (ONZE) project at the University of Canterbury uses data from old New Zealanden recorded between 1946 and 1948. Some of these speakers were born as early as the 1850s, only a decade after the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840, the date usually given for

70

MarpRt Maclagan and Elizabeth Gordon

the beginning of the European settlement of New Zealand. The recordings were collected by the Mobile Disc Recording Unit of the New Zealand National Broadcasting Service (Mobile Unit), which traveled around some rural areas of New Zealand, collecting, among other things, pioneer reminiscences. With over 300 elderly New Zealanders interviewed, (some individually, some in groups) the ONZE project is in the remarkable situation ofbeing able to analyse the recorded speech of those who were the first European children hom in New Zealand. When Peter Trudgill wrote Dialects in Contaa in 1986 he could have had no idea that one day he would be able to test his theories with real data. Over a period of five years, lhldgill has been closely involved with the ONZE project, analysing qualitatively the speech of 94 of these old New Zealanders. The existence of several variants of the same variable in the speech of certain individuals was pointed out by Trudgill early in the project. In Trudgill et al. (1998f) eight speakers recorded by the Mobile Unit are described. They were all born in New Zealand, apart from one man who came as a baby, and all were recorded in Arrowtown in Central Otago, a town established in 1862 after the discovery of gold near the Arrow River. In Trudgill's analysis of the DRESS and TRAP vowels of these speakers,2 he found that some speakers consistently had open vowels [e) for/£/ (the DR.ESS vowel) and [z] for /z/ (the TRAP vowel); three speakers had consistently closer vowels [e] and [e), respectively, as in modem New Zealand; but three speakers (hom 1863, 1874 and 1877) had highly variable vowels covering a range from [e- e] (the DRESS vowel) and from [£- z] (the TRAP vowel). He also showed that all of the speakers were variably rhotic, with many varying the articulation of /r/ between [J], [.ij, and [r]. Five of the speakers alternated between /z/ and /a:/ in the lexical set of chance and dance, and the five speakers who exhibited a degree of h-dropping also did so variably ('Ihldgill et al.1998f.45). It was this individual internal variability which interested us, as it seemed to occur at a aucial stage in the development ofNZE and reduced dramatically once the new variety of English had been established. We therefore decided to look at all the ONZE data and a more recent longitudinal study into a NZE sound change to see if similar patterns of variability emerged.

Individual internal variation in the ONZE data In order to look at internal variation in individual speakers we considered all 94 New Zealand born speakers for whom Trudgill carried out an auditory im-

Variation and sound change in New Zealand English

pressionistic analysis. He completed a template for the speakers on which he noted the most common variants for each phoneme and gave his overall impression of each accent. For some spealcers only one variant was listed for all or most of the vowel phonemes. For example, the oldest speaker in the data base, Mrs. Cross, hom in Dunedin in 1851 of Scottish parents, has only one variant listed for each of the vowels analysed. 'Iiudgill descnbed her as sounding 'Scottish.' Other speakers had three or four variants listed for several of the vowels. For example, Mr. Mclew, hom in 1875, also with Scottish parents, and also desaibed by 'Ihldgill as sounding 'Scottish~ has more than one variant for eight of the fifteen vowels analysed. His variants as listed by 'Ihldgill for the DRBSS vowel are (£a £i) £ e3) and for LOT (~AD A). In order to assess the overall rates of internal variability within the ONZE speakers as a whole group, we examined Trudgill's templates and for each speaker recorded the number of vowels which had more than one variant. In order to show the range of the variability, speakers were categorised as having "low variability" if they had more than one variant listed for three or fewer vowels out of the fifteen analysed and speakers who had more than one variant listed for seven or more vowels were categorised as showing "high variability•. The results for the 94 speakers are displayed in Table 1. If we compare three periods, 1851-1865, 1866-1874 and 1875-1890 where there are relatively similar numbers of speakers, it can be seen that the percentage of spealcers who exhibit relatively low variability overall decreases and the percentage who exhibit relatively high variability increases. Individual internal variation is still increasing at the end of the third period in 1890.3 These results parallel'Iiudgill's 'overall impression' for the speakers. From 1851-1865 only 17% ofthe spealcers are classified as sounding like New Zealanders or Australians. From 1866-1874 there is a slight increase to 18%, but &om 1875-1890 the percentage of spealcers identified as New Zealanders or Australians jumps to nearly 30%. The results also concur with some simple identification exercises. When New Zealand students listen to selected speakers hom in the earliest period. they do not recognise them as '"sounding like New Zealanders" whereas speakers hom in the later period are much more likely to be identified as '"sounding like New Zealanders" (or Australians). Table 1 gives an overall view of the amount of individual internal variation, but it also conceals dift'erent patterns ofvariation for individual variables which can be seen in an analysis of the TRAP and DRBSS vowels, shown in Table 2.1n the first period there is more individual internal variation for TRAP (50%) than there is for DRBSS (33%). In the second period. the variation decreases for TRAP and increases for DRESS, but there is still more variation for TRAP

. ..

~

......

71

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Marpret Madapn and Elizabeth Gordon

18ble 1. Individual internal variability in speakers in the ONZE data base: Speakers who have lesser or greater variability in vowel production Yean

Number of speabn

Low variability

Hip variability

1851-1865 1866-1874 1875-1890

24 35 35

10(42%) 11 (31%) 8(23%)

5 (21%) 8(25%) 11 (32%)

18ble 2. Individual internal variation in the oasss and TRAP vowels for the ONZE data base: Speakers Yean

No. of speakers

DUSS

TRAP

1851-1865 1866-1874 1875-1890

24 35 35

8 (33%) 14 (39%) 17 (49%)

12(50%) 15 (43%) 14 (40%)

(43%) than for DJlBSS (40%). In the third period, individual internal variation for TRAP continues to decrease (40%) and DRESS continues to inaease (49%). 1iudgill et al. ( 1998f: 46) comment on the close realisations of lei and /z/ in the speech ofthe first- and second-generation ofNew Zealand-born English speakers and suggest that the closer realisations were brought to New Zealand &om the British Isles. Nevertheless. when all 94 of the ONZE speakers are included in the analysis. it is dear that both vowels continued to raise for the speakers born in New Zealand. If individual internal variation is part of the process of change, then the results for internal variability of TRAP and nuss suggest that the period when the TRAP vowel was changing most occurred before the period when the nuss vowel was changing most. a result that is supported by other ONZE analyses (see Gordon et al.• forthcoming). Both vowels continued to raise over the period covered by the ONZE data and then on into modem NZE (see Maclagan 1982, 2000; Madagan & Gordon 2000). Modern descriptions of NZE. however, do not comment on variability of the magnitude shown in Table I within individual speakers (see Bauer 1986; Belll997; Watson et al. 1998).

Individual internal variation in the NBAB/SQUARE merger in NZE The second research project where we have found internal variation in individual speakers is a longitudinal study of the merger of the diphthongs in NEAR and SQUARE in NZE. We began this study in 1983, collecting and analysing the

Variation and sound change in New Zealand English

recorded speech of over 100 14-year old secondary school students from four Christchurch schools selected to give a sample balanced according to sex and social class. We have now repeated the study three further times in 1988, 1993 and 1998 so that we have data recorded over a fifteen year period (Gordon & Maclagan 1985, 1989, 1990, 2001; Maclagan & Gordon 1996). For this study, students read sentences such as The big brown bear is drinking beer and read word lists including isolated NEAR/SQUARE words. The word pairs included in the study are listed in Table 3. In 1983, at the beginning of the project, the students" pronunciation of the NBAR and SQUARE words was not consistent. 33% of the students kept the word pairs distinct and 16% merged them, but 50% of the students showed no consistent patterns of identification. Five years later, in 1988, the percentage of students who did not show consistent patterns remained at 50% but in 1993 it dropped dramatically to 14% and in 1998 it dropped still further to 10%. As the percentage dropped for students whose results were not consistent, so the percentage increased for students who merged the word pairs- 16% in 1983, 22% in 1988, 76% in 1993 and 80% in 1998. When we looked at the results from individual schools, we found that the percentage ofstudents whose results were not consistent increased at two of the schools before it decreased. The private girls" sdlool had 41% inconsistent students in 1983 and 55% in 1988 before dropping to 33% in 1993; the lower socio-economic state school went from 59% inconsistent students in 1983 to 64% in 1988 before lowering to 7% in 1993. The other two schools showed a steady decrease in the percentage of students whose identifications were inconsistent. Another way of highlighting the individual internal variation in these data is to look at the ways in which the students produced the word pairs. From the first repetition of the study to the fourth repetition a greater percentage of the

Table 3. Word pairs assessed in the NEAR/SQUA.Rll study The foUowingword pairs were available for investigation

here/hair beer/bear cheer/chair ear/air fear/fare fear/fair

fair/fare spear/spare shear/share

tearful/careful really/rarely •keaJcare

• Kea is the name of a NZ mountain parrot. We did not initiaUy expect kalcare to form a word pair.

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Marpret Madapn and Elizabeth Gordon

students produced both members of the word pain tested as NBAJt. However in each year most students produced some of the word pairs dift'erently. Even those who produced a significant number of word pairs in the same way, still produced some word pairs differendy &om othen. In each year there were individual students who pronounced some word pairs as NBAJt, kept other pairs distinct and pronounced other pain as SQUARE. In 1983, for example, Helen, a student at the private girls' school pronounced here, lulir, and really, rarely with NEAR, kept ha, care, tearfuL aueful and fear, fare distinct, and pronounced cheer, clulir, shear, share, beer, btar, spttlt', spat't and tar. air with SQUARE, indicating considerable individual internal variation. In 1998, Sarah, a student at the same school, pronounced all the word pain with NBAR while only one speaker at the school, Cecilia, kept a significant number of the word pairs distinct.4 Table 4 shows the number of students &om each school in each year who merged some of the word pairs as NEAR, kept some distinct and merged other pain as SQUARE. It can be seen that for students at the three schools for whom data is available in 1983, there is an increase in individual variability between 1983 and 1988. Students &om all schools then show a decrease in individual variability between 1988 and 1993 and those at three of the schools continue to show a decrease in individual variability between 1993 and 1998 (the increase &om 2 to 3 students who show this degree of individual variability at State School1 is not significant). This research has shown, therefore, that as the NJWt/SQUARE merger pro~ there was first an increase in individual internal variability and then a decrease. 'Iible 4. Individual internal variability in the pronundation of NEWSQUARE word pails: Students who made three different identifications of word pairs

Year

1983

Boys' Private Girls' Private State Scbool1 State School2

15 (40.5%) 28 (72%) 23 (79%)

•

1988

1993

1998

22(76%) 23 (79%) 26(96%) 27(96%)

15(52%) 13 (48%) 2(7%) 7(23%)

5(17%) 14(13%) 3 (10%) 4(13%)

• because of recanting problems, data are not available from the Boys" Private school in 1983.

Variation and sound change in New Zealand English

Discussion For both of the studies presented above, an increase in individual variability from a base level is demonstrated before the variable in question settles to its current value. For the ONZE speaken, there is an increase over time in the number of speakers using more than one variant for a number of vowels before the variants later reduce again, leaving the patterns familiar in modern NZE. For the NEAR/SQUARE merger, there is first of all a high percentage of students who do not show consistent patterns of production, with many who show all three possible production patterns (merging individual word pain on NEAR, keeping other pain distinct and merging other pairs on SQUARE). Over a period of about five yean production settles to the almost complete merger on NBAR, [!a], that is current in modern NZE. The individual internal variation shown in these studies is unlikely to be attributable to style shifting. The speakers recorded by the Mobile Unit and analysed in the ONZE project were all recorded under similar conditions which did not change during the recordings. 5 The same is true for the school students recorded for the NEAR/SQUARE study. Some of the variability can be attributed to variations in the phonetic context. In the ONZE analysis, for example, particularly raised tokens of the DRESS vowel occur before /nl (ten). Nevertheless phonetic context is not sufficient to explain all the individual internal variability seen in these data and it does not affect the results in the NEAR/SQUARE study because all students read the same sentences and word lists. We appear to be left with the sort of random or free variation that linguists find difficult to explain. 'fraditionally, if such variation cannot be incorporated into a variable rule with known constraints, it is regarded as outside the scope of linguistic analysis. Wolfram and Schilling-Estes (1998:243), for example, talk about inherent variability "which is an internal part of a single linguistic system, or dialect, and should not be considered to be the result of importations from another dialect or of speech errors~ They do not analyse it further. Commenting on the results obtained when the Department Store survey was repeated, Labov notes speaker internal variability similar to that above. He says "We have seen that the effect of the new prestige norm was not to modify the vernacular of most New Yorkers, but rather to produce variable behaviour in formal situations, (Labov 1994:89). Rather than exploring the variability, he goes on to explore the role of speakers in the lower middle class as leaders of change (ibid.:90). Chambers and 'frudgill (1998) note this sort of variation when they discuss the difficulty of drawing isoglosses. Map 8.2 (1998: 108) which shows the boundary of the northern (u) pronunciation

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Marpret Madapn and Elizabeth Gordon

( [u] in words like some, cup) displays indices for individual speakers near the boundary. Speakers away from the boundary have indices of 100 (always [kup]) or 0 (always [kAp ]), but those dose to the boundary have index values in between. Trudgill and Chambers say "individual speakers in the transitional area are likely to have variable pronunciations, saying, for example, [duk] 'duck' on one occasion and [dAk] on another. This kind of individual variety obviously cannot be accommodated by an isogloss" (1998: 109). Slightly later (p. 128) they say: Most linguists would now agree with the aiticism of the psychologist Fischer: "Free variation is of course a Jabel, not an explanation. It does not tell us where the variants came &om nor why the speakers use them in differing proportions, but is rather a way of excluding such questions &om the scope of immediate inquiry. (Fischer 1958:47-48)

We agree that free or random variation is a label rather than an explanation, but we would contend that apparently random variation can be an important pointer to change in progress. We note that variability is common in other areas of spoken language. For example, it is commonly seen in another area of language where change is both common and essential, namely, language acquisition (see, e.g., Kerswilll996; Locall983). In language acquisition, it is well known that children reaching a certain milestone do not necessarily suddenly change completely, but earlier forms appear side by side with the new developments. A three year old child, Conrad, used the following forms of negation within one minute in an interaction with his mother: No. not brealcing it. (= 'No, I'm not breaking it.') No me can do it now. (= 'I can't do it.') I can't do it. (recorded by a student of the first author, used with permission)

Commenting on the inherent variability of the grammatical morphemes he studied, Brown (1973:388) states that "inherent variability characterizes each of the morphemes and contingent variability operates in some cases, perhaps in all~ Bloom (1978: 61) says that, unlike much variation found in adult speech, "the source of linguistic variation in the child speech data that have been descn"bed so far in the literature is neither cultural nor social~ As a child acquires more categories, so there is more possibility for variation and for apparent 'mistakes' before the child's production settles down to the community standard. An inaease in variation and 'errors' for a child usually indicates that language is developing and therefore changing. The variation is not completely

Variation and sound change in New Zealand English

chaotic. For Conrad, the new, more adult negation (I can't do it) co-existed with the earlier form (No me can do it). In our data, we suggest that individual internal variability is both a symptom that the language is changing and part of the changing process. Because the extent of the individual internal variability increases and then decreases over time, we are not dealing with long term stable variation like the /m 11)1 variation that characterises much casual speech (see, e.g., Trudgill1974a). As is the case with the small child, the variation that initially seemed random is not chaotic, but fluctuates between older forms and newer ones. Language change typically follows an 'S-curve' (see Kroch 1989; Labov 1994; Chambers & Trudgill1998) with an initial period of slow change followed by a period of very rapid change and another period of slower movement, a pattern which can be seen in both the projects discussed above. However the variation in the time of most rapid change is still not chaotic. While the very oldest ONZE speakers have comparatively stable usage with less incidence of internal variation, those whose usage has started to change can manifest in the same speech British dialectal variants together with the newer emerging New Zealand variants. This can be seen in the speech of Mr. McLew who was mentioned above. His [ea p ...e ea] variants for DRESS move between the older [ea] and the newer [ea], and his variants for LOT move between the older [u] and the newer [::»].Once the language is changing very fast in the steep slope of the S, then we see greater amounts of individual internal variation. Then as the variety becomes more focused, so the internal variability also diminishes. 4

~

Conclusion In Dialects in Contact ( 1986a: vii) Peter Trudgill explained that his method was to attempt explanations ("usually very ad hoc") for developments that have occurred in one situation, and then to see if these could be generalised to other similar situations. The end result would be to be able to predict what might happen, though he admitted that there was no chance that he would be able to do this with success. Using Trudgill's own method, together with his insights about individual internal variability, we have shown that similar patterns have emerged in two New Zealand English studies. If we too can generalise from these situations, we would like to suggest the hypothesis that individual internal variability is part of the process of language change and in the case of New Zealand English, of new dialect formation. Not all speakers will demonstrate it, but it is a significant feature of speakers in the period of most dramatic change.

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Marpret Maclapn and Elizabeth Gordon

When we first encountered individual internal variability in the NBAJt/ SQUAD study, all we could see at the time was confusion and chaos. Because we have been able to look at the process of change over a longer period, and also to see the simllarities with the ONZE study, it now seems that this variability is a natural and integral part of the process of change, in fact it is a dear signal that change of some sort is in progress.

Notes L We wish to thank the Royal Society of New Zealand and the University of Canterbury for grants which helped to fund the work of the ONZE project and the schools and students who participated in the on-going NE.U/SQUAilB project. We would also lib to thank Lyle Campbell fOr helpful COIIUDellts on an eadier draft of this chapter. 2. Followins Wells (1982) we use key words to indicate an words containing the relevant phoneme. 3- UnfOrtunately we do not have sufticient later-hom speakers in the Mobile Unit archive to continue this comparison into modem NZE w • we would probably see the variability dec:rease apin. The same is true fOr the DRESS variation in Table 2. 4- Because we only recorded one example of each word pair from each student, we cannot comment on individual internal variability when the word pairs aR repeated. We can. howewr look at the variability O'VU the total sample. In 1983, all of the word pain receiwd an possible identifications (both words pronounced as NIWt, the two words pronounced differently and both words pronounced as SQUABB). In 1988, the pair ba, an received no SQUABB pronunciations and three other word pairs. fotulfllir. fear/fare and really/mrely received only two SQUARE pronunciations when an 113 students were combined. By 1993. the number of word pain that received no SQUABB pronunciations had grown to five. In addition two pairs. were pronounced both as SQUABB only once when all116 students aR combined. By 1998. the same five word pairs received no SQUABB pronunciations and two further pairs m:eived only two SQUAJU! identifications. When the whole student poup is combined. it can thus be seen that the overall variability declines ovu the 15 ~ of the study. This total variation starts to decrease ewn while individuals BR still produdns all possible combinations of the word pain. s. It is possible that some minor style sbiftins could have taken place on the ONZE recordings as subjects moved &om more formal topics to sreater personal involvement with stories of the 'good old days~ Nevmbeless. style sbiftins is not immcdia~ apparent when one listens to the tapes.

Variation and sound change in New Zealand English

References Bauer, L (1986). Notes on New Zealand English Phonetics and Phonology. English World Wule. 7, 225-258. BeD, A ( 1997).1be phonetics offish and chips in New Zealand: marking national and ethnic identities. English World- Wide. 18, 243-270. Brown, R. (1973). A First Language: The Early Stages. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bloom, L. & Lahey, M. (1978). lAnguage Development and lAnguage Disorders. New York: John Wdey and Sons. Chambers, J. K. & 'Iiudgill, P. (1998). Dillledology (2nd ed.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fischer,}. L. (1958). Social influencts on the choice of a linguistic variant. Word, 14, 47-56. Gordon, E. & Maclagan, M. ( 1985 ). A study of the /i:J/-1~1 contrast in New Zealand English Australian. The New Zmland Speech-Language Therapists' /ouf'lflll. 40, 16-26. Gordon, E. & Madagan, M. ( 1989). Bur and bear. cheer and chair: a longitudinal study of the mr/air contrast in New Zealand English. Australian /ounu~l ofLinguistics, 9, 203-220. Gordon, E. & Madagan, M. (1990). A longitudinal study of the 'ear/air' contrast in New Zealand Speech. In A BeD & J. Holmes (Eds. ), New Zealand Ways of Spetlking English (pp. 129-148). Oe~on: Multilingual Matters. Gordon, E. & Maclagan. M. (2001). Capturing a sound change: a real time study over 15 years of the NEAR/SQUARE diphthong merger in New Zealand English. Australian ]oUnuJI of Linguistics, 21(2), 215-238. Gordon, E., Campbell, L, Hay, }., Madagan, M., Trudgill, P., & Sudbury, A (forthcoming). New Zetlhlnd English: Its origins and evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kerswill, P. (1996). Children, adolesc:mts, and language change. IAnglurge Variation and Change. 8, 177-202. Kroch, A ( 1989). Reftexes of grammar in patterns of language change. lAnguage Variation and Change. l, 199-244. Labov, W. (1966). The Social Stratification of English in New York City. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics. Labov, W. (1994). Principles of Linguistic Change "'L 1, Internal Factors. Oxford: Blackwell. Labov, W. (2001). Principles ofUnguistic Change "'L 2, Social Factors. Oxford: Blackwell. Local.}. (1983). How many vowels in a vowel? /ounu~l of Child Language.lO, 449-453. Madagan, M. (1982). An acoustic study of New Zealand English vowels. The New Zetlhlnd Spttch 'I'Itempists' Jouf'lflll. 37, 20-26. Madagan. M. (2000). How long ha~ women been leading language change? In J. Holmes (Ed.), Gtndered Speech in Social Contat Perspectives from Gown and Town (pp. 87-98). Wellington: Victoria University Press. Madagan. M. & Gordon, E. (1996). 'Out of the AIR and into the EAR': another view of the New Zealand diphthong merger. Language Variation and Change, 8, 125-147. Madagan, M. & Gordon, E. (2000). The NJlAll/SQUARE merger in New Zealand English. Asia Pacific Journal ofSpeech, Language and Hearing, 5(3), 201-207.

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Marpret Maclapn and Elizabeth Gordon Watson. C., Harrinpon, J., & EY8DS, Z. (1998). An acoustic comparison between New Zealand and Australian Enslish vowels. Ausfrrllian Journal of linguistics, 18, 185-207. WeDs, J. C. (1982). Accents ofEnglish [3 Vols.]. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wolfram, W. & Scbiling-Estes, N. (1998). Amtriam English. Oxford: Blackwal Publishers.

An East Anglian in the South Atlantic? Interpreting morphosyntactic resemblances in terms of direct input, parallel development, and linguistic contact* Daniel Schreier University ofRegensburg

This chapter discusses the evolution of present tense marking in the form of English that developed on the island of'Iiistan da Cunha in the South Atlantic Ocean. With special focus on the question whether morphosyntactic resemblances reflect direct input or rather parallel language development, I look into the selection and stabilisation mechanisms of 3rd person singular zero, as in he wallc or she sing, in this locale. This issue is romplex, as we need to account for the fact that identical structures may feature in varieties that have no obvious historical connections; for instance, we find an identical present tense pattern in the British Isles (East Anglian English: 'Ii'Udgill 1974a, 1998i) and also in South Atlantic English (such as on Tristan da Cunha: Zettersten 1969; Schreier 2002, 2003a, b; and on St. Helena: Hancock 1991; Wilson 1997). How are we to explain this resemblance? Was there a direct input from East Anglia to 'Iiistan da Cunha, or alternatively, did the two dialects develop this feature in parallel and independently? H so, why? I begin by discussing the sociohistorical development of the Tristan community and then look into diachronic and synchronic aspects of present tense ronrord in English, which allows us to determine eventual historical ronnections and to answer if there were any East Ang1ians in the South Atlantic.

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Tristan da Cunha, South Atlantic Ocean

The island was discovered by the Portuguese admiral Tristio da Cunha in 1506 (Brander 1940). There were no serious settlement plans for centuries and 'Iiistan da Cunha served as a service station and hideout for whalers and pirates until the early 19th century. The island was colonised in 1816 when the British Crown formally annexed it (Crabb 1980), and a group of two men from Plymouth, Devon and one from Kelso, Scotland with his South Mrican wife and their two children founded the colony (Schreier & Lavarello-Schreier 2003). The British colonisers were joined by a group of women who arrived from St. Helena in 1827 and by several Americans who were attracted to the area during the rise of the whaling industry in the 1830s and 1840s (Taylor 1856). In the same period, three non-anglophone settlers arrived as well, namely a Dutchman and two Danes. Crucially, however, all the settlers spoke English as a second language, as Earle (1832) and Taylor (1856) report that no other languages were spoken in the community. Baptism records show that the population increased rapidly and that it contained ten families with 75 people by 1842. From the 1850s on, the community became hyper-isolated for a variety of economic and political reasons. The number of ships calling in declined steadily, and very few newcomers added to the population after 1860. From the 1870s to WW ll, the community was as far removed as possible from the outside world. The complete lack of integration into mainstream communities deeply affected the social (and sociolinguistic) structure of the community (see Munch 1945 for a sociological study ofTristan in the late 1930s), and this period led to the implementation of dense social networks and focused linguistic norms (Schreier 2003). The era of hyper-isolation ended with WW ll, when a British naval station and a South African commercial fishing company were installed on 'Iiistan da Cunha (Crabb 1980). The 1iistanians came into extensive contact with outsiders for the very first time, and their social life and organisation underwent far-reaching changes (most of all when the local subsistence economy was replaced by a paid labour force economy). The opening-up to outsiders was catalysed by a wholesale evacuation of the islanders in the early 1960s, and the entire community spent two years in exile in England after a volcano erupted close to their settlement. The community became increasingly exocentric and open after their return to 1Dstan in 1963. The islanders are now fully integrated into the modem world, off-island mobility has increased drastically since the 1980s, and the export of crawfish to Japan and the USA has led to economic prosperity and rapid modernisation. The present-day population consists of about 285 people, all of whom speak English natively (in

An East Anglian in the South Atlantic?

fact, Tristan is one of the most monolingual communities: other languages are unknown, with the exception of some Afrikaans words that were adopted via contact with South African fishermen).

The status of 3rd person singular -sin English around the world Present tense concord in English has been subject to extensive research around the world: Early Modem English (Bailey, Maynor, & Cukor-Avila 1989), the British Isles (Trudgill 1974a, 1998i), Appalachian English (Wolfram & Christian 1976; Montgomery 1989), Newfoundland English (Oarke 1997), Samana English (Poplack & Tagliamonte 1989), African American English (Schneider 1983, 1989), and English-based pidgins and creoles (Holm 1988). The available literature suggests that there are at least four systems of present tense concord in present-day English: a standard-like system, with -s marking on the 3rd person singular only 2. a system where all grammatical persons and plural NPs have -s suffixation (e.g. I takes, we works, found in southwestern England and northern England; see Wakelin 1977, 1986, 1994; Hughes & Trudgill1996) 3. a system where only the 3rd singular and plural persons as well as plural NPs are marked (e.g. in they goes, the dogs barks, what Montgomery 1989, 1994 labels the Northern Concord system, found for instance in the Appalachians; see Mallinson & Wolfram 2003) 4. a system where none of the persons receives -s marking (e.g. when it min, found in East Anglia, African American English, and pidginised/aeolised forms of English) 1.

The standard-like system is unusual in that the only grammatical subject to be morphologically marked for tense is the 3rd person singular (e.g. she goes, he walks). Consequently, the saliency and irregularity of -s makes 3rd person singular subjects ideal candidates for levelling processes (Trudgill1986a; Siegel 1997), which operate in the direction of paradigmatic conformity and may manifest themselves in either -s attachment or non-marking with all persons. As always, paradigmatic regularisation is not an either - or process and may consist of many stages. For instance, practically all dialects with 3rd person singular zero usually have both -s and a zero suffix, albeit in varying frequencies and in different environments. Variability is paramount since languageinternal constraints and social factors correlate with the application or nonapplication of -s marking, which may shed light on historical connections and

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uncover genetic relations between vuieties. Commonly reported linguistic and extralinguistic correlates include factors related to subject (person and number), type of subject NP (nominaVpronominal) and its adjacency to the verb, phonological and syntactic criteria (preceding and following segment, underlying form/clause type and following complement) as well as verbal aspect (habitual, durative, punctual), lexical conditioning and narrative function.

3rd person singular zero in 1iistan da Cunha FnBiish (TdCE) Uncounted forms and analysis For the present study, I selected a sub-sample of 35 native speakers of TdCE, aged between 18 and 92. Excluded from analysis were forms that turned out to be problematic in related studies of present tense concord (Clarke 1997; Poplack & Tagliamonte 1989), most notably non-standard past tense forms and suffixes that are phonetically ambiguous (e.g. when a following sibilant leads to a masking effect, as in he only give(s?) so many). Apart from such cases, I kept a record of all marked and non-marked forms for each speaker, noting the subject type that co-occurred with each lexical verb. An initial insight is that TdCE has a strong tendency towards non-marking: non-3rd persons have no -s suffixation at all, and 3rd person singular subjects typically co-occur with a zero suffix, even though -s marking is found as a minority variant (as we see in Table 1 below, the total number of third person singular contexts is 583; 93 are marked for tense by a-s suffix, an overall marking rate of 16%). 1 In order to explain the origins and sociohistorical evolution of this type of present tense concord, it is helpful to investigate structural affinities between TdCE and other dialects. What phonological and grammatical criteria govern the variable surface realisation of -s suffixation with 3rd person singular forms? Moreover, how do social and extralinguistic factors (such as age, sex and mobility) correlate with non-marking? Inter-individual variation A first question concerns the overall distribution of marked forms in the sample - how widespread is inter-individual variation with regard to -s marking in 3rd person singular environments? Do all speakers alternate between -s and -0 variants, or is there sharp individual differentiation in that some speakers vary extensively whereas others never or rarely do? To clarify this, I selected all

An East Ansfian in the South Atlantid

18ble I. External correlates of 3rd person singular zero in TdCE

1tJe poup and Sex Men Total

Zero

%

2 (middle) 1 (Joung)

82 111 102

80 108 93

97.6 97.3 91.2

Mobility

Men 'lbtal

1 (low) 2 (med) 3 (high)

137 146 12

Age 3 (elderly)

AJe

Women Total

Zero

%

3 (elderly) 2(middle) I (young)

53 63 172

51 36 122

96.2 57.1 70.9

Mobility and Sex Zero

%

Mobility

Women Total

Zero

%

136 137

99.3 93.8 66.7

1 (low) 2(med) 3 (high)

149 33 105

138 20 52

92.6 60.6 49.5

8

VARBRUL analysis of atmaal constmints on 3rd person singular zero Age(n.s.): elderly= .51; young= .51; middle= .48 Sex (n.s.): men= .52; women= .48 Mobility: low= .53; medium= .51; high = .39 (Input probability= .46; totalf = 6.319;f/cell = .486; n.s. =not significant)

speakers with a minimum of ten tokens and arranged their overall values (both for -s and -0) by age of speaker on the x axis. Figure 1 illustrates extensive intra- and inter-individual variation, and in fact indicates that lack of variability exists on both ends of the marking continuum. Whereas several speakers vary between -s and -0, one speaker has standard -s suffixation throughout, and others have categorical non-marking (out of the total of22 speakers represented here, seven have no-s marked fonns at all). The first impression is that non-marking appears to be less frequent in the speakers positioned on the right hand side of the x axis, i.e., the younger speakers in the sample.

External factors To what extent does the differential usage of the two variants correlate with extralinguistic factors? Table 1 and Figure 2 give the raw figures and percentages of -s and -0 morphemes by age and sex. Third person singular zero is almost categorical (the overall percentageofnon-markingis 95.3% for men and 72.9% for women). The function of age of age is dear: whereas non-marking in the oldest generation is near-categorical, age groups 2 and 1 have consistently lower rates of

Is

I 100

100 100

100

100

100

100

100

94.1 96.1

94.7 93.3

93.8

93.3 90.6 90

f.

90 80

66.7

70

j60

I8

[

61.3

60.6

57.9 53.3

so

46.4

.:40 #. 30

20 10

ol• •

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

o •

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

12m 73f 72m 68f 65m S6m 49m 49m 47m 46f 46f 43m 3Sf 31f 29m 18m 16f 13f 2lf 19f 18m 18m

AF 111d sex of speaker Pipe 1. Individual variation in 3rd singular uro, arranaed by age

.An East .Anglian in the South Atlantic?

91.2

70.9

3

2 Age Group

1

1-+-Men ..... Women!

e 2. 3rd person singular zero by age group and sex

)rms, particularly the middle-aged women. The standard type of -s marks therefore clearly on the increase in age group 1, i.e. the speakers born 1961.

rbe next extralinguistic factor considered here is geographical mobility. lsland mobility has increased drastically in recent years, as the community nore education and training opportunities overseas. Following the frame~ outlined in Schreier (2003b), the speakers are classified into 3 mobility .ps, depending on ( 1) their length of absence from the island, (2) their place ay in the outside world, (3) their age at departure, and (4) their motive for ng (particularly formal education). fable 1 and Figure 3 indicate that geographical mobility is a significant fac!1 present tense marking. Non-marking is highest in the least mobile speakand higher in non-mobile men than in non-mobile women), whereas is.ers of all age groups who have spent more time abroad have more standard .ffixation. However, despite the changes that are on-going in apparent time, we note -s suffixation still has the status of a minority variant, even for some of the

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I Schreier

1

2

Mobility Group 1-Men -women I

3

e 3. 3rd person zero by mobility

g and comparatively more mobile Tristanians. This is further evidenced e fact that 3rd person singular zero makes a frequent appearance in letIDd manuscripts written by Tristanians, often alternating with -s marked s. This is illustrated in the following sentence, taken from an email written ~-year-old Tristanian woman who emigrated to England (and at the time iting had spent more than two years in the 'outside world'): "We have this i where whoever coolcs the other have to clean up." be social factors of age, sex and mobility oorrelate with 3rd person singu!ro. Table 1 illustrates the relative contributions of the three factors age, sex nobility to the overall variability of marked/non-marked subjects. A VARl step-down procedure threw out the effects of age and sex, as they are tatistically significant. The multivariate analysis reveals that, although the tency of present tense -s appears to be age-related, it really is a function obility. Younger speakers (particularly age group 1 women) have higher ing rates simply because of their increasing mobility.

An East Anglian in the South Atlantic?

Internal constraints To determine the effect of internal constraints on the application or nonapplication of a standard -s suffix with 3rd singular subjects, I investigate those speakers who alternate between -s and -0 who had a minimum of ten tokens and at least 10% usage of one of the variants. The factor groups examined here include {1) phonological conditioning {following and preceding segment), {2) the underlying form of the -s suffix (bi- or mono-segmental), and {3) subject type (pronominaVnominal; NPs were classified as 'light' (e.g. the dog) or 'heavy' (e.g. Uncle Alfred"s brown dog or conjoined NPs)). Bi-segmental/is - as/ forms were eliminated at an intermediate stage of the analysis as there unfortunately were not enough tokens in the database to allow for statistically significant claims. The VARBRUL step-down procedure also threw out the effects of the preceding segment and type of subject NP. Thus, as we see in Table 2, the only factor groups relevant for tense marking are the following segment and the underlying phonetic form of the -s suffix. The following segment constraint is perhaps most reasonably explained in terms of phonotactic saliency, and I suggest that a pre-pausal environment leads to higher perceptual saliency of -s suffixation. This is supported by the fact that some speakers mark this person only for clause-final verbs. and never in other environments. The underlying form constraint is more difficult to explain. The phonological features of the final segment of a bare root conditions the phonetic surface form of the -s suffix in TdCE: [s] occurs when the preceding segment is a nonstrident voiceless segment, [z] when it is a nonstrident voiced segment or a vowel, and [is ~s] when it is a strident. Related studies attest a similar effect, even though there is no consensus on its phonological conditioning. Poplack and Tagliamonte (1989:64), for example. note that "when the phonetic form of -s is complex (ie., [s]), it is retained more often on both 3rd and non-3rd persons in Samana English", and Clarke {1997:244) reports that"-s marking was highly disfavored [in Newfoundland Vernacular English] when the suffix was bisegmental, that is, consisted of the [is ~] allomorph that occurs after a sibilant". Table 2. VARBRUL analysis of internal constraints on 3rd person singular zero Preceding segment (n.s.): Following segment: Underlying form: 7ype of subject NP (n.s.):

vowel = .52; mnsonant = .49 consonant= .61; vowel = .44; pause= .08 voiceless /s/ =.70; voiced /z/ = .41 pronoun= .58; lisht NP = .42; heavy NP = .24

(Input probability= .55 total'!!= 12.993;r/cell = .591; n.s. =not significant)

a,

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Daniel Schreier

The VARBRUL weightings above confirm neither of these findings and suggest a different kind of constraint in TdCE: the surfacing [z] form favours 3rd person singular-s whereas [s] disfavours it. We have to take care in interpreting these findings (simply because there are not a sufficient number of bisegmental tokens in the corpus), but I would suggest that sibilant devoicing in TdCE may be an important factor here (in fact, it is possible that voiced [z] may be entirely absent in the phonemic inventories of some speakers), even though the origins of this process are not dear for the moment (perhaps a transfer effect, via Dutch and/or Afrikaanr). However, we should not rush to conclusions, as a multivariate analysis of a corpus with sufficient tokens of all three variants might yield different results; further research is dearly necessary to shed light on this effect.

Discussion These findings have a number of diachronic and synchronic implications for present tense concord in TdCE. First, even though there are distinct languageinternal constraints on variable-s marking, TdCE shares 3rd person singular zero with varieties such as African American English, East Anglian English, and creolised forms of English. What, then, is the history of 3rd person singular zero in TdCE, and what can we infer from this for parallel language development and direct input? The question is whether 3rd person singular zero was transplanted to the island as such or whether it originated in contact-induced processes at some stage of the koineisation process of the local dialect. Origins: Independent development or input legacy? Third person singular zero is amply recorded in British English. Trudgill ( 1974a, 1998i) and Fisiak and Trudgill (200 1) report it in East Anglian dialects, and Wakelin ( 1986: 36) finds 3rd singular zero in southwestern English English: [s]ometimes the -(e)th ending is lost without being replaad by -(e)s, i.e. the 3pr. sg. is assimilated to the 1pr. sg. and the whole of the pl, and thus 3pr. sgs. can still be heard in the SW (and more generally in the S. of England) with zero ending. e.g. she wear.

Consequently, one might argue in favour of a direct input hypothesis, namely that 3rd singular zero represents the legacy of late 18th century British English and was transplanted to Tristan da Cunha via (some oO the British founders

An East Anglian in the South Atlantic?

of the colony. However, the social history of the Tristan community posits a legitimate challenge to this hypothesis. The founder of the colony was a native of Kelso in the Scottish Lowlands, and the other permanent settlers came from East Yorkshire {Hull) and the English Southeast {East London, Hastings). None of the original settlers came from Norfolk, Suffolk or its surrounding areas, i.e., from the regions that have this feature, and 3rd person singular zero in Tristan da Cunha can therefore not be British in origin. We are thus faced with two questions: {1) If it was non-existent in the British inputs, where did this feature come from? Was it imported from elsewhere or did it originate on the island itself? {2) Why were the concurrent British concord systems {marking of either all grammatical subjects/NPs or 3rd singular only) levelled out entirely? Similar present tense systems are reported in a number of nativised and non-nativised forms of English, such as African-American English, both historicaDy (Schneider 1983, 1989) and in present-day forms (Wolfram 1969; Labov et al. 1968). Moreover, basilectal pidgins and creoles have no morphological tense marking {Holm 1988; Sebba 1997), and Trudgill (1998i: 141) lists this feature in a number of English-based pidgins and creoles spoken in the Caribbean (Jamaican English) and in the South Pacific (Tok Pisin, Bislama, Solomon Islands, Pitcairn and Norfolk Island English) as well as in St. Helenian English and the institutionalised second-language varieties of Singapore and Malaysia. The fact that 3rd zero makes an appearance in forms of English that have no direct connections raises the question as to why Bislama, East Anglian English and African American English should share this feature in the first place. Why should unrelated varieties share an identical feature? It is striking to note that most of these varieties have a common denominator: the social histories of the communities reflect extensive and enduring periods oflanguage contact. This is suggestive that the regularisation of present tense paradigms is a primary characteristic of contact-derived language forms rather than the result of independent and internal linguistic change. This hypothesis is supported by Trudgill's (1998i) documentation of non-marking in East Anglia. Trudgill argues that before the emergence of 3rd singular zero in the early 1700s, East Anglian English (EAE) shared the fully inflected present tense system of other varieties of Middle English. Then, however, the sociodemographic development of East Anglia underwent massive changes when Catholic Spanish troops invaded the Low Counties in 1567 and large numbers of Dutch and French Protestants fled aaoss the North Sea to neighbouring England. There was thus extensive language contact in Norwich, and Dutch and French were spoken natively until the second half of the 17th century. Nor-

91

,:~

Daniel Schreier

wich, consequendy, was a trilingual city for as much as two hundred years and this unique scenario leads Trudgill to argue that East Anglian third-person singular present-tense zero is in origin a contact feature which developed as a result ofthe presence oflaqe numbers ofnon-native speakers in Norwich who, in using EnsJisb as a lingua franca amongst themselves and with the native population, failed to master, as non-native speakers often do, the non-natural marking system of English ftl'bs. ('Ihldgill1998i: 144)

Importandy, the arrival of the Protestant refugees coincided with the arrival of third person singular -s from northern British English. At the time, the northem variant-s diffused south and the local dialect was in a state of transition between-(e)th and -s. 3rd person singular zero in EAE, therefore, was not only the result of language contact involving English, Dutch and French; what turned out to be at least of equal importance was the timing of the arrival of the Low Counties Protestants, as it coincided with morphosyntactic changes that were in progress in the local variety of English. The three co-existing variants resulted in systemic instability, and Trudgill speculates that the eventual outcome was favoured by linguistic naturalness and simplicity. A contact-based explanation is not sufficient to explain why a majority of native speakers of English should adopt a simplified structure from a non-anglophone minority: •Norwich English has had zero-marking ever since the more or less simultaneous arrival in the city of (a) third person singular-s from the north and (b) the Strangers from the Low Countries" (Trudgill1998i: 146). Crucially, then, nonmarking appears to be mainly contact-derived (primarily language contact, but I must stress that 3rd person singular zero is aJso reported in dialects that have no such contact histories, e.g., southwestern English (Wakelin 1986) and 16th century London English (Wright 2001), which adds to the historical complexity of this feature and highlights that it can certainly originate in contexts that do not involve language contact).l This implies that contact-induced adaptation and levelling processes lead to paradigmatic regularisation when English is learnt as a second or foreign language. Consequendy, returning to this feature in TdCE. one might suggest that, by analogy with the situation in 17th century Norwich, the arrival ofDutch, Danish, Italian and St. Helenian setders on liistan may have led to the stabilisation of a regularised present tense paradigm in the local dialect. However, it is also possible that non-marking was directly imported via St. Helenian English (StHE), which has 3rd person singular zero (Yon, personal communication 2001; Hancock 1991; Wdson 1997) and parallels with English-

An East Ansfian in the South Atlantid

based creoles in the Atlantic (Hancock 1991). In this scenario, the English spoken by the women from St. Helena would have had typical L2 characteristics, presumably as a result of contact processes in that locale. Even though the creole input hypothesis has its merits (and TdCE has adopted a number of Creole features, see Schreier 2003b), there is unfortunately no first-hand evidence at all to support informal observations on StHE (and even if we had synchronic evidence from contemporary StHE, we would have no proof that the crossmigrating women had this feature and transplanted it to Tristan). So this leaves us with two (perhaps mutually supportive) sources of non-marking in TdCE: ( 1) origins in the interlanguage of non-anglophone settlers, i.e. in admixture or (more likely) L2language learning processes; and (2) direct transplant from St. Helena. Perhaps the most likely scenario is that TdCE adopted 3rd person singular zero from StHE, and that the stabilisation of this feature was reinforced by the presence of settlers with no native-speaker competence in English.

Why did TdCE adopt non-marking! The next question, then, is exactly why 3rd person singular zero should have become the norm in TdCE: how can we account for the fact that this pattern was retained even though the British input varieties had alternative systems of present tense concord? I would suggest that a combination of sociopsychological, demographic and linguistic factors accounts for this selection process. A list of aiteria includes the numerical equality of British and non-British colonisers in the community, the absence of formal education, and the putative noncongruence of concord systems in the inputs. For instance, it is highly important that the two most inftuential groups (British and St. Helenian) were approximately identical in size (even though the British slightly outnumbered the St. Helenian settlers), as permanent selection of restructured features is more likely when there is numerical equality between the individual social/ethnic groups involved. By the same token, there was virtually no formal education there in the 19th century, and the absence of a norm-enforcing authority and lack of a co-existing standard variety also favoured the usage of 'natural' and regularised patterns and forms. A third criterion is by nature linguistic. The coexistence of several concord systems obviously led to complexity, instability and confusion; as the systems were not congruent, the paradigm with the highest chance of selection was the one that was most regular and least marked: 3rd zero became normative, in a scenario that may somewhat resemble the situation in 16th century Norwich.

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Conclusion The different types of present tense -s concord in the British donor dialects were levelled out in TdCE as a result of linguistic contact and 1..2 learning processes. Accordingly, 3rd person singular zero in contemporary TdCE either originated in restructuring and adaptation processes on the island itself or else represents a direct transplant &om StHE. The most likely explanation is that a regularised paradigm was acquired by the women before they cross-migrated to Tristan da Cunha, and that usage of non-marked forms was then reinforced by the non-anglophone sailors from other parts of Europe who settled on the island as well. In any case, the women from St. Helena had a predominant social and linguistic role in the community, since their linguistic influence was big enough to level out British tense marking. They therefore had a considerable impact on the directionality of new-dialect formation, and St. Helenian English functioned as a vital role model for the first generations of native Tristanians. Finally, then, what can a comparative analysis of morphosyntactic forms teach us about linguistic contact and change? Superficially, a feature-specific resemblance may invite the implication that there was direct input, namely that feature X diffused from variety A to variety B. However, as the present analysis shows, identical processes may operate in varieties that have no sociohistorical connections whatsoever. Accordingly, the fact that we should find feature X in a given variety of British English must not be interpreted as an indication that it originated and spread from there to other forms of (post-colonial) English. What such parallel developments show is that contact-induced mechanisms may operate independently in distinct varieties, and that a set of prototypical features (such as morphological tense marking) are the first ones to go during contact-induced levelling and regularisation. By the same token, levelling processes may appear to be identical on the surface yet function quite differently, inasmuch as they are subject to distinct types of language-internal constraints (which is a possible explanation as to why the following segment and underlying form constraints are pre-eminent in TdCE- they reflect morphosyntactic characteristics of this particular variety). Morphosyntactic affinities are therefore not always an indication of genetic heritage and direct input; rather, they can be indicative of similar historical developments and identical evolution patterns occurring under given sociolinguistic conditions. The process of loss (or rather, levelling out) of suffixation thus offers vital insights into general mechanisms of contact linguistics and yields important information on the historical evolution of contact-derived dialects. I therefore conclude that 3rd person singular present tense zero was

An East Anglian in the South Atlantic?

not brought to Tristan da Cunha via native speakers of East Anglian English. What East Anglia and 1iistan da Omha have in common, however, is that both communities, as different as they are, participated in an identical linguistic development because they underwent similar social and sociolinguistic changes. Notes • The research conducted for this analysis was in part financed by grant BCS 9910224 of the United States' National Science Foundation and the William C. Friday Endowment of North Carolina State University. 1. Moreover, there are also sporadic incidences of hypercorrection, as in "she don't checks it every time~ which are most lib]y the result of linguistic insecurity and incorrect application of learnt suffixation rules (discussion in Schreier 2003b). 2. H~. Holmes (1997) reports /z/ devoicing among (especially Maori) New Zealanders, which sugests that this (substratumf) process may be more commonly involved in contact scenarios.

3- I am grateful to Erik R. Thomas and Laura Wright, who pointed this out to me.

References Baney, G., Maynor, N., & Cukor-Avila, P. (1989). Variation in subject-verb concord in early modern English Llmgru~ge Variation and Clumgr, 1, 285-300. Brander, J. (1940). Tristan tltl Cunha 1506-1902 London: Allen and Unwin. Clarb, S. (1997). English verbal -s revisited: the evidence from Newfoundland. American Spetch, 72, 227-259. Crabb, G. (1980). The History and Postal History of 1listan da Cunha. Self-published

manuscript. Earle, A ((1832] 1966). Na"ative of a Residence on the IsiDnd ofTristan D'Acunha in the South Adantic Owm. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Fisiak, J. & 1i"UdgiiJ P. (Eds.). (2001 ). East Anglian English. Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer. Hancock. I. (1991). St. Helena English. In F. Byrne & T. Huebner (Eds.), Dewlopment and Structures ofCreole Languaps (pp. 17-28). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Holm, J. (1988). Pidgins and Creoles. Volume 1: Theory and Structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Holm, J. (1997). Maori and Pakeha English: some New Zealand social dialect data. Language in Society, 26(1), 65-101. Hughes, A & 'Iiudgill, P. ( 1996). English Accents tmd Dialects. An Introduction to Social and Regional Varieties of British English (3rd edition). London: Edward Arnold. Labov, W., Cohen, P., Robins, C., & Lewis, J. (1968). A Study of the Non-Standard English of Negro and Puerto Rican Speakers in New York Oty, Vol. 1. US Office of Education Cooperative Research Project No. 3288.

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Mallinson, C. 8c Wolfram, W. (2003). Dialect accommodation in a bi-ethnic mountain enclave community: more evidence on the development of African American English. lAnguage in Society, 31(5), 743-779. Montgomery, M. (1989). Exploring the roots of Appalachian English. English World-Wule. 10(2}, 227-278. Montgomery, M. (1994). The evolution of verbal concord in Scots. In A. Fenton 8c D. MacDonald (Eds.}, Proceedings of tire Third lntemlltional Conferma on the Lllnguages of Scotland (pp. 81-95). Edinburgh: Canongate Academic Press. Munch, P. A (1945). Sociology of Tristan da Cunha. Oslo: Det Norske Videnskaps-Akademi. PopJack. S. 8c Tagliamonte, S. ( 1989). There's no tense like the present verbal-s inftection in Early Black English. Language Variation and Change. 1, 47-84. Schneider, E. (1983). The origin of the verbal-s in Early Black English. American Speech, 58(2), 99-113. Schneider, E. (1989).American Earlier Blade English: Morphological and Syntactic Variabks. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Schreier, D. (2002). Terra incognitta in the Anglophone world: Tristan da Cunha, South Adantic Ocean. English World-Wule, 23(1),1-29. Schreier, D. (2003a). Tracing the history of dialect transplantation in post-colonial English: the case of 3rd person singular zero on Tristan da Cunha. Folia Linguistica Historica, 25(1-2), 87-103. Schreier, D. (2003b ). Isolation and Lllnguage Change. Sociohistorical and Contemportll)' Evidence from Tristan da Cunha English. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Schreier, D. 8c Lavarello-Schreier, K. (2003). Dismn da Cunha - History. People and lAnguage. London: Batdebridge. Sebba, M. ( 1997). Contact Lllnguages: Pidgins and Creoles. London: Macmillan. Siegel, J. (1997). Mixing/leveling, and pidgin/creole development In A. K. Spears 8c D. W"mford (Eds.), The Structure and Status of Pidgins and Creole Languages (pp. 111149). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Taylor, W. F. (1856). Some Account of the Settlement of Tristan d'Aamha in the South Atlantic Ocean. London: Cassell. Wakelin, M. F. ( 1977). English Dialects: An Introduction. London: Athlone. Wakelin, M. F. ( 1986). The Southwest of England (Varieties of English around the World 5). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Wakelin, M. F. (1994). Discovering English Dialects (4th edition). Princes Risborough: Shire Publications. W"dson, S. ( 1997). St. Helenian English. Unpublished manuscript. Wolfram, W. (1969). A Sociolinguistic Description of Detroit Negro Spudt. Arlington, VA: Center for Applied Linguistics. Wolfram, W. 8c Christian, D. (1976). Sociolinguistic Variables in Appalachian Dialects. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics. Wright, L. (2001). Third-person singular present-tense -s, -th, and zero, 1575-1648. American Speech, 76(3), 23~258. Zettersten, A. (1969). Tire English of Tristan da Cunha (Lund Studies in English 37). Lund: Gleerup.

Sociolinguistics of immigration J. K. Chambers University ofToronto

In the theoretical transition from the dialectology of isolation (dialect geography) to the dialectology of interaction (sociolinguistics), in which Peter 'lludgiD has been an influential voice (esp. TrudgiD 1974a, 1986a), we have developed methods for apprehending language variation among people with disparate bonds to the social mainstream. Immigration presents us with some of the most extreme cases of dialects and languages in contact. Large-scale movements of people across national boundaries for purposes of permanent settlement have accelerated in the modern era, as one of the inevitable consequences of mobility. Sociolinguistics came into being in the first place primarily seeking to understand the linguistic consequences of social stratification, but immigrants have seldom been included among the strata. In my research, several empirical issues are emerging as focal points in the sociolinguistics of immigration. I have singled out five of them that seem especially promising. ( 1) The Language Gap: interlanguage exhibits orderly heterogeneity as outlined by second-language acquisitionists but has so far been under-exploited by variationists. (2) The Literacy Gap: the discrepancy between native and second-language literacy, now quantifiable in a global perspective, perpetuates social disadvantage. (3) The Integration Gap: the Language and Literacy Gaps can be narrowed or widened by social evaluations of either the natives or the immigrants. (4) Inverse Assimilation: multi-generation immigration can stabilize certain variants in the native speech of (otherwise) assimilated second-generation speakers, leading, in later generations, to their establishment as markers of region (community) rather than ethnicity. (5) Sodal 7ypology: societies based on immigration as the primary source of population growth develop partly predictable sociolinguistic differences from in-

,a J. K.
sular societies, a further application of the conceptual model proposed by 1iudgill (2002b). In what follows, I outline the issues that lie behind these concepts, as I see them, illustrating them with case studies wherever possible. The subject is large, and hitherto largely unexplored, at least as a unified research area. My treatment is necessarlly programmatic, but suggestive, I hope, of a productive elaboration, in an area that is certain to take on importance as immigration becomes the social norm in all the developed countries. My experience, personally and professionally, comes from my native country, Canada, which has become in three generations or so one of the most multilingual and multicultural nations in the world. Some of my illustrations below draw on Canada, but only in the service of generalization.

The Lanpage Gap In terms of language, there are two basic immigrant categories. The ones who arrive speaking languages already intelligible to the home population are dialect/accent (DIA) immigrants, and the ones with languages unintelligible to the natives are second-language (SL) immigrants. There are social and linguistic consequences for these two kinds of immigrants. Socially, one of the consequences for the SL immigrants has to do with the attitudes of the local people when they hear newcomers speaking unintelligible languages in their midst. Just as skin colour separates people into 'visible minorities~ SL immigrants are 'audible minorities~ I can remember, as a youngster, hearing older people in my home town grumble when they overheard a foreign language on the streets. "This is Canada," one old man said. "Why can't they talk like everyone elsel" The same attitude, rather more vitriolic, is evident in this letter published in a Sydney, Australia, newspaper a generation ago (quoted by Romaine 1989: 49): NothingllllJI01S me more than two or more 'ethnics' jabbering away in their native language in the company of English-speaking people, particuJarly in a work environment. Is it really too much to ask them to observe simple politeness by refraining from resorting to their native language in the company of English speaking persons!

Attitudes like these, we now know, were just reflex reactions to what was a fairly sudden social change. People simply were not used to hearing foreign

Sociolinpistics of immipation

languages on their streets or in their workplaces and reacted to them out of ignorance or fear. There are darker consequences if people with these attitudes limit employment prospects for immigrants. Some people apparendy believe that people with foreign accents could not (or should not) be salespeopl~ teachers, bank tellers, or the like, simply because they have an accent. Subjective reaction tests provide systematic evidence for these attitudes. In a simple experiment carried out in Canada several years ago, subjects were asked to act as "personnel consultants" for a company hiring foremen, industrial mechanics, production assemblers and plant cleaners (Kalin, Rayko, & Love 1986). The subjects were asked to rate each of sixteen candidates for each job as they listened to tape. recorded statements by them. Each of the taped voices had an ethnic accent, either English, German, South Asian or West Indian. The results showed "stable discrimination" on the part of the subjects, who ranked the ethnic groups in the order listed for the higher prestige jobs and in the reverse order for the lower prestige jobs. Looking back in history, I discovered that these attitudes also affected the D/A immigrants arriving in the 1800s. Even though their language was intelligible to the locals, they sounded different - sometimes very different - and those differences in accent and dialect were also portents of social changes. An English immigrant to Canada wrote a book about her experiences in 1851, and in it she desaibed the "drawling vulgar voice" of the Canadian recruiting officer. "He spoke with such a twang," she said, "that I could not bear to look at him or listen to him." Starting out with this attitude was not very promising, and predictably the woman had a miserable time of it in her adopted country. And vice-versa. In this same period, many advertisements for jobs carried the standard line "No Englishman need apply". What obviously gets forgotten when old-timers complain about newcomers is the fact that, in New World countries like Canada, the United States, Australia and New Zealand, almost everyone is an immigrant. In Canada, the best claim for being non-immigrants belongs to the groups known as First Nations, the Inuit and Indians, not because they were always there but because their immigrations took place prehistorically. In terms of numbers, there are 207,280 First Nations people (using mother tongue figures from the Canadian census), which amounts to about one in every 145,000 Canadians. The rest of the 30 million are immigrants and the descendants of immigrants. The Language Gap is ephemeral. The native offspring of immigrants naturally become native speakers of the national language, normally with the

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J. K.
The Literacy Gap One definite difference between D/A immigrants and SL immigrants is what I call the Literacy Gap. SL immigrants typically arrive in their new country unable to read and write the language of their new country, or with very limited fluency in it. But natives and D/A immigrants have normally developed their literacy skills from the age of four or five. In the age of mass literacy, reading and writing are tools of economic and social advantage. The discrepancy between native and second-language literacy perpetuates social disadvantage. Nowadays w.: can actually see the extent of this disadvantage for the SL immigrants by looking at comparative data from the International Adult Literacy Survey (Thijnman 2001), a standardized test applied in 22 nations for measuring literacy proficiency of people in those countries. The survey is complex and multi-faceted, but for my purposes here what is most important is that it tests both native-born and second-language foreign-born citizens in each country. The discrepancy betw.:en the proficiency scores for these two groups constitutes the Literacy Gap. Figure I shows the Literacy Gap in 21 countries. (The other country in the survey, France, refused to have its results published.) The percentages are for the median proficiency level3 (where 5 is the highest), roughly appropriate for senior high-school students. The bars indicate the proportion of citizens who attain this median level of proficiency in the test in each of the countries, and the length of the bar shows the discrepancy between the native-born and the SL immigrants at that level In Canada, for instance, 39 percent of native-born people attained this proficiency level but only 14 percent of SL immigrants attained it. The figure dearly shows that the gap exists in every country. In the five English-speaking countries, for instance - the United Kingdom, the United States, New Zealand, Canada and Australia- the gap is never less than IS percent. SL immigrants dearly find themselves at a disadvantage in terms of literacy compared to both D/A immigrants and long-term citizens. Because literacy is an economic and social tool of considerable power, minimizing the Literacy Gap must be seen as a social obligation of governments and educators. In Canada, as in most other countries, the main means of doing this is by providing ESL classes free of charge. Ways of attracting people to the classes include

Sociolinguistics of immigrati

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I. The Literacy Gap, shown as the difference in literacy proficiency for nat itizens (top of bar) and for foreign-born citizens who are speakers of a 5eC4 ge (bottom of bar}, measured by the percentage of native-born and seco ge foreign-born population, 16-65, at Level3 proficiency, Prose scale (basccl 1an 200l:Table 10, 45-46).

1g them in the communities where the immigrants live, and schedul lf them in the evenings for working adults. But the Literacy Gap rem~ md so we must continually strive to find new and improved ways to m :lasses attractive, and to make the lessons more effective. 1e Literacy Gap can never be wiped out entirely, of course. Adults r not capable of gaining second-language proficiency that matches fi ~ge competence. There will always be a gap, and there always has be can be narrowed. Our ability to measure the gap marks a major steJ II awareness of it

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Sociolinpistics of immipation 103

censing process engenders alienation, and throughout the community there is a widespread suspicion that their residencies might be terminated at any time. (Their feelings may not be entilely illusory: Hungary is an "insular" nation, in terms of the typology described in the next-to-last section of this article, and immigration policies there have not traditionally been open.) As a result, there is resistance among the immigrants to expending the effort required for speaking and reading Hungarian. In the Chinese community, second-language competence is actually better in English, which has no official status, than in Hungarian. The relative competence among the Chinese-Hungarians in English compared to Hungarian is not entirely puzzling. Many Chinese are employed in service trades, especially the restaurant business, and some of them inevitably serve tourists, for which English is the most serviceable language by far. With the enormous increase in mobility, many people harbour attitudes about languages in terms of something like their serviceability. The contrast between English and Hungarian is sharp in terms of geographical spread, number of speaken, global use, and numerous other criteria. In many European cities, English bilingualism is common enough to make it useful, and even rudimentary competence carries prestige. A few generations ago, considerations like these might not have enaoached upon the sensibilities of immigrants. Now they often do. Resisting integration or embracing it can be determined to some extent by the immigrants' attitudes toward the national language. A graphic illustration of immigrants' attitudes as a determinant of linguistic integration is afforded by a study of Japanese schoolchildren abroad (Yashiro 1991). These subjects make a rarefied constituency among immigrant groups, to be sure, because they belong to a privileged class and they are dependent upon their parents. Many are temporary immigrants, from families dispatched to international postings in business or government. Nevertheless, the study has the advantage of global spread and fine-tuned data, and its results are revealing for several national languages. Families were polled on their school arrangements for children abroad. The essential choices were either Japanese-language schools or local schools where the teaching was carried out in the national language. Within the latter category, there was a further choice about providing extra Japanese classes for the children (or not), usually through private tuition. A priori, knowing the exclusive attitudes that the Japanese have traditionally held about their language, categorizing emigris as issei and nis~ according to their alienation from the homeland (roughly, first- and second-generation emigrants), one might expect

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J. K. Chambers

a fairly uniform response by Japanese parents faced with placing their children in foreign schools. Instead, the responses vary widely. Yashiro ( 1991 ) discovered that the parental choices became coherent when they were cross-tabulated with the continents to which the families had emigrated. Figure 2 and its accompanying table show that the gradations range from 91 percent enrolled in Japanese schools in Asia to fewer than 4 percent in North America. (The sample size differs greatly, as the rightmost column of the table shows, an inevitable consequence of the location of foreign postings; it may skew the results for Africa and the Middle East, where only 1.2 percent of all Japanese emigrants go, but otherwise the trends are robust.) Traditional Japanese language attitudes are revealed not in the choice of school types, which is highly variable, but in the Japanese languagemaintenance pattern as seen in the figure and accompanying table for Japanese

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Sociolinpistics of immipation 105

'lible I. "tYPes of schools attended by Japanese children overseas, either local (vernacular) schools, with additional Japanese classes, or special Japanese schools, by continents, with Rlative proportions in each continent (Yashiro 1991, cited in Sanada 8c Long 1998: 192-193). local schools supplemental c:lusa Japmae schools %of aU emipanta Asia C&SAmerica Middle East A&ica Australia, NZ Europe N.America

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schools and extra classes, which hovers around 7~0 percent (except inexplicably in Australia and New Zealand). Clustering the emigrants by continents reveals certain regularities. North America stands alone at one extreme and Asia stands alone at the other. Europe and the Antipodes (Australia and New Zealand) are next to North America, and similar to one another. When we seek explanations for the pattern, the correlation with continents strongly suggests an underlying English-language bias. The national languages in North America, Australia and New Zealand are English (except in Quebec and some other Canadian regions, where it is French). For our purposes, it would be helpful to know what proportion of the families posted in Europe are actually in the United Kingdom or Ireland, the English-speaking countries; this is not recoverable from the data, but it is not unreasonable to guess that it represents a significant group, and thus accounts for the preference for local schools over Japanese schools. What appears to determine school choice is the use of English in the local school system. Japanese parents favour sending their children to local schools when English is the language of instruction, and rely on private tuition for maintaining their nativelanguage skills. When the language of instruction is not English, the parents usually choose Japanese-language schools.

Inverse Assimllation

In communities in which immigrant languages persist beyond the first generation, certain variants in the native speech of (otherwise) assimilated secondgeneration or third-generation speaken may become stable features of the re-

1o6

J. K.
Sociolinguistics of immigration 107

Anecdotal evidence indicates that some Greek-Canadian teenagers also say sangwich. The occurrences are reported so far only in one Toronto east-end community, where traditional Greek and Italian enclaves co-exist and, in fact, intermingle, and where both ethnicities come together in schools. So sangwich appears to be diffusing beyond the people of Italian descent and becoming a community feature. As a stigmatized feature, sangwich is probably not a prime candidate for permanent status in ethnolects. Much more promising are phonological features such as the backing of /e/ so that rest sounds something like rust, the centralizing of /uw/, and the low onset in /aj/ in words like write and Christ (i.e., lack of Canadian Raising). We are watching these features for persistence beyond the second generation and diffusion beyond the ethnic divisions. Establishing empirical evidence is providing a new challenge for sociolinguistic methods, but we are confident they are there, both from impressionistic evidence and from the Buffalo precedent. The long-term consequences of ethnolects are potentially imposing. Walck (2002) goes so far as to attribute the Northern Cities Shift, described by Labov (1991: 14) as "the first major type of chain shifting in English dialects,• to diffusion from ethnolectal varieties. Wolck (2002) says: Fonner bilingualism and its transformation into ethnolects is the immediate predecessor and major source of the rise of new American English urban dialects. Most of the features ... could not be explained or mapped according to the methods of traditional dialectology or linguistic geography. The fact that cities as far apart as Buffalo, Detroit and New York share the 'flat X [tensing of short a, in Labov's terms] is a consequence of their similar ethnic composition and cannot be part of the ontogenous development of English. Contact linguistics and contact dialectology can better account for such 'accommodation.

W6lck's argument is circumstantial rather than empirical, but it is suggestive at the very least, and perhaps even persuasive.

Social 'lfpology The social embedding of language often reveals far more about the community than its linguistic complexion. It can reveal something about communal attitudes and even the social gestalt of insularity, patriotism and tolerance. Specifically, societies based on immigration as the primary source of popula-

1o8

J. K. O.ambers tion growth develop partly predictable sociolinguistic differences from insular societies. Soon after I developed this notion (and before it came into print (Chambers 2002: 118-120), in the terms I summarize and extend below), I was involved in editing a chapter by Trudgill that propounded a very similar but more general notion. "The issue at hand,.. Trudgill wrote (2002b:708), "is whether it is possible to suggest that certain linguistic features are more commonly associated with certain types of society or social structure than others." It seemed an uncanny convergence of ideas, but on second thought it was not really uncanny at all. Ten years earlier, I had written in a footnote of an article on dialect acquisition (Chambers 1992:676n), "The common ground shared by my research and Peter Trudgill's will be obvious at many points, and is not coincidental. Our views of the discipline overlap considerably, often strongly enough to turn us into collaborators.• Here was another example of our common ground, which, inadvertently, had turned my study into an application of Trudgill's conceptual model. My observation of the sociolinguistic contrast between societies based on immigration and insular societies came from a lifetime of observing Canada's internal tensions, and only later showed themselves to be at the root of some larger, international social conflicts. Within Canada, the tension is focused on the dual nationalisms of Quebec, Canada's French-speaking province, and Canada at large, symbolized especially by Ontario, Quebec's neighbouring province, which is largely English-speaking and the seat of economic and political power. Canadian history is characterized by almost cyclic alternations between equilibrium and conflict, with Quebeckers at times integrating their Quebec national feelings into the Canadian body politic, and at other times, often in response to legislation or policy decisions that are deemed to threaten their nationalism, erupting into open conflict with increased segregation and threats of separation. In times of conflict, Quebec society, or at least the side of it that is represented by the most vociferous nationalists, presents a set of values that seems alien to the rest of the nation. To take some obvious (and uncontroversial) points, Quebec is constitutionally monolingual in French, but the rest of the nation is constitutionally bilingual in French and English. Quebec's monolingualism is bulwarked by laws forbidding public signs in anything but French and a government bureau (called "language police,) for enforcing them; in the rest of Canada, though it is overwhelmingly English-speaking, all legal documents, highway signs, cereal boxes, and so on, are bilingual in both official languages, and in Toronto and some other cities, street signs are in English and Chinese, Greek, Portuguese or Italian, where immigrants who speak those Ian-

Sociolinguistics of immigration 109

guages form the majority. In nonlinguistic matters, Quebec has several strains of rabid patriots, with the most extreme called pure llline, literally 'pure wool' (a label on garments), who openly espouse expelling citizens who are not descended from the original, largely Norman colonists. The rest of Canada is notoriously mild-mannered in terms of patriotic fervour, an aspect of Canadian nationalism that is often lamented, rightly or wrongly. The American social geographer Wilbur Zelinsky ( 1988: 4) said, "A review of our checklist of nationalistic symbols in Canada reveals how very few are well developed and how many are realized weakly or belatedly, or are altogether lacking." He was obviously referring to English-speaking Canada. What is especially relevant here is the fact that Quebec's monolingualism not only eschews English but also the third linguistic constituency, the immigrant languages, which persist in the rest of the country as mother tongues for a significant part of the populace. In Canada as a whole, 16 percent of the population have immigrant-language mother tongues, and in Ontario it is 21.6 percent, more than one-fifth of its citizenry; Quebec has only 9.3 percent , and almost all of those live in its largest city, Montreal, near the Ontario border. The roots of these differences between Quebec and the rest of Canada go back to their diametrically different settlement histories. Most of Canada, like nearly all New World nations, relied on immigration to build its population base. But Quebec relied upon birthrate. For about 200 years, until around 1950, the Quebec birthrate was about 65 per thousand, one of the highest in the world. Population growth kept pace with the rest of Canada or outstripped it without importing immigrants in a phenomenon celebrated in Quebec history as Ia revanche de berceawc, 'the revenge of the cradle~ The 'revenge' motif was a point of nationalist pride. For example, an obituary in a small-town Quebec newspaper for a man who left more than 600 descendants when he died at 96 made this boast: aThe grandfather of Mr. Philippon met an honourable death at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham [where the English defeated the French in 1763 to take control of what is now Quebec]. His grandson has well revenged this death by adding, through his own efforts, an entire parish to French Canada., (quoted by Joy 1972: 51). The days of Ia revanche de berceaux are long past. Since 1950, the Quebec birthrate has hovered around 13 per thousand, one of the lowest in Canada. A declining birthrate means a proportionate decrease in population relative to other regions, but instead of increasing immigration in order to compensate, the Quebec government in 1988legislated financial incentives to mothers who bear three or more children.

no

J. K. O.ambers I believe that the social and linguistic differences between Quebec and the rest of Canada are representative of many societies without significant influxes &om outside and those with continuous immigration, respectively. It follows that belief systems in immigrant societies will tend to be diffuse because of the importation of diverse aeeds, rites, and customs. Because ethnicities are more diverse and racial mixing more common, intolerance based on racial lines should be blunted (unless, of course, the races are segregated or ghettoized, as in the USA and South Africa, in which case intolerance will be exacerbated). Patriotism will be more diffuse (or less focused) and less fervid. Language is more varied and unstable across generations, with second-language varieties as well as native varieties, different mother tongues in the same household, and loanwords, code-switching and interlanguage. In the long term, these factors should stimulate language variation and diminish purism and prescriptivism. Belief systems, racial and ethnic tolerance, and patriotism are notoriously hard to measure; lexical loans, prescriptive norms and variable usage are much less so. They appear to be profoundly related. Quebec could provide a scaleddown prototype for understanding culture and language in insular societies such as Japan and Croatia, as could Ontario for immigrant societies such as Brazil and the Netherlands. In keeping with contemporary mobility, we currently seem to be witnessing several transitions from formerly insular societies to inaeasingly mixed ones, for instance in Germany, Ireland and other countries. It should be possible, with careful study, to categorize countries according to settlement pattern and find correlates with a host of linguistic and social attributes, includingprescriptivism, receptivity to loanwords, literacy proficiency of second-language immigrants, religious tolerance, miscegenation rates, racial and linguistic heterogamy (marriage outside racial and language groups), and other measures. As a suggestive, but wholly impressionistic, model, we might find that nations form clusters like these: Insular Japan

'Ii'ansitional Germany Croatia Ireland Hungary England China ? USA

Immirvant-based Canada

Brazil Australia Netherlands

The middle category, Transitional, means that the nation is moving &om Insular to Immigrant-based. Movements in the opposite direction (from Immigrant-based to Insular) are not impossible but they are mercifully rare, because they require unnatural, doomed measures (the Great Wall of China,

Sociolinguistics of immigration

the Jewish exodus) or genocide (Romans and barbarians, the Holocaust, "ethnic cleansing.. in the former Yugoslavia). Some of the listings above require explanation. Germany is notable among the Transitional nations because until about 60 years ago it espoused policies such as Aryan supremacy and world domination that were among the most virulent of any Insular nation. Its present transition phase is commensurably violent, with clashes between reactionaries ("skinheads..) and the new order, but the direction seems unstoppable. The United States is considered questionably Transitional because its population base, like other New World nations, came from immigration. However, its policies appear to have imposed a kind of ideological insularity, with racial segregation, nationalist language norms (from Webster to Mencken), and pressure to assimilate (the "melting pot•). All these impositions appear to be breaking down under contemporary pressures, albeit with resistance from the likes of the English-only movement in the face of the growing Spanishlanguage minority. So the USA is in the paradoxical position of emerging from an immigrant-based insularity. Just as the United States seems anomalous as an immigrant-based nation that became insular, so the Netherlands is anomalous as an Old World country that has embraced and celebrated the diversity of its former colonists as immigrants. In that, the Netherlands seems several decades ahead of its neighbours in transition. It is possible, with modem mobility, that no society will be insular two or three decades from now, except perhaps Greenland, Tristan da Cunha, and a few other peripheral societies. Sociolinguistic typology might provide a means of coming to grips with the differences and increasing sensitivity by understanding them more profoundly.

Toward a sociolinguistics of immigration

I have tried to indicate the broad implications when immigration is looked upon as an independent variable in sociolinguistic research. In one sense, this is hardly a new idea, because ethnicity has always been an important independent variable, and immigrant groups are definable by ethnicity. But ethnicity has conventionally been applied to established ethnic groups, such as African Americans in Harlem and WASPs in Chelsea. Immigrant groups represent "new ethnicities" in the community, sometimes even when they have the same point of origin as established ethnic groups who arrived a generation or two before them. Immigrant groups are typically disaffiliated at first and then assimilated by degrees. Linguistic variation is thus generational in a way that is not di-

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J. K. O.ambers rectly transferable to any other social stratum. Both the Language Gap and the Literacy Gap, for instance, are significant for the first generation. In succeeding generations, the range of variability should follow norms shared by the community as a whole. (When established ethnic groups fail to participate in communal norms, as in the chronic Literacy Gap for African Americans in the United States, it is considered symptomatic of social breakdown.) Integration in successive generations can be variable, ultimately quantifiable in terms of an Integration Gap when the correlates of integration are better understood. Finally, the persistence in succeeding generations of features that originated in interlanguage traits of the first generation, which I have called Inverse Assimilation, represents a potential source of variants that can lose their association with ethnicity and come to be identified as regional. In this complex of interrelations, there are obvious overlaps with variationist linguistics, but there is enough that is different, perhaps, to make the sociolinguistics of immigration a distinct subfield.

References Carlock, E. & Wolck. W. (1981). A method for isolating diagnostic linguistic variables: the Buffalo ethnolects experiment. In D. Sankoff & H. Cedergren (Eels.), Varilltion Omnibus (pp. 17-24). Carbondale, IL and Edmonton, AB: Linguistic ~ch Inc. Chambers, J. K. (1992). Dialect acquisition. Lanpap. 68, 673-705. Chambers,}. K. (1998). English: Canadian varieties. In J. Edwards (Ed.),LIInguage in Cantlda (pp. 252-272). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chambers, J. K. (2002). Dynamics of dialect convergence. ]oumal ofSociolinguistics, 6, 117130. Joy, R. J. (1972). Languages in Conflia: the Canadian Experience. Toronto: McClelland and

Stewart.

Kalin, R., Rayko, D. S., & Love, N. (1986). The perception and evaluation of job candidates with fom different ethnic accents. In H. Giles, W. P. Robinson, & P.M. Smith (Eds.), Language: Social Psychological Perspectives (pp. 197-202). Oxford: Pergamon Press. Labov, W. (1991}. The three dialects of English In P. Eckert (Ed.), New Ways ofAnalyzing Sound Change (pp. 1-44). San Diego: Academic Press. Romaine, S. (1989). Bilingualism. Oxford: Blackwell. Sanada, S. & Long, D. (Eds.). (1998). /aptJnese Sociolinguistics IHwtrated. Tokyo: Akiyama Shoten. Thijnman, A. (2001). Benchmarlcing Adult Literacy in North America. Ottawa: Statistics Canada. [CataJogue no. 89-572.) Wolck, W. (2002). (to appear). Ethnolects- between bilingualism and urban dialect. In Li Wei (Ed.), Bilingualism: Strengths. Weaknases, Threats and Opportunities Berlin/New

York: Mouton-de Gruyter.

Sociolinguistics of immigration U3 Yashiro, K. (1991). Kikokusei no bairingarizumu. Summarized inS. Sanada & D. Long (1998, Eds.), Japa~ Sociolinguistics IUustrated (pp. 192-193). Tokyo: Akiyama Shoten. Zelinsky, W. (1988). A sidelong glance at Canadian nationalism and its symbols. Narth Ameriazn Culture. 4. 3-27.

Why fuude is not 'food' and tschegge is not 'check' A new look at the actuation problem Richard J. Watts University of Berne

The actuation of language change Since Weinreich, Labov and Herzog's seminal article in 1968, there are now few historical linguists who would deny that the 'homogeneity principle~ guiding the work of both the Neo-grammarians and the Structuralists (including their successors in generative linguistics), has been successfully challenged by the principle that language is 'a systematically differentiated system' (Weinreich, Labov & Herzog 1968: 127). One of the major consequences of this change in focus is that historical linguists have begun to take the 'actuation problem' seriously, a problem which was first raised explicitly in that article. Essentially, the question is this: How is a change in Language A actuated? When does it begin, how does it begin and how does it reach completion (if indeed it ever does)? Three processes are of importance here: innovation, addressing the question of who innovates, where, when, to whom and why; adoption, addressing the question of whether the innovation is adopted by others, how frequently and in what social contexts; and diffusion, addressing the question of how the putative change spreads to other individuals, social networks and geographical areas. From the point of view ofthe historical linguist, changes can only be recognised after the event, making it virtually impossible to give an unequivocal answer to the questions of innovation and adoption. This led linguists like Bloomfield into the pessimistic position that "it is useless to ask what person or set of persons first favored [certain] variants.... By the time a sound-change

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becomes observable, its effect has been distributed by the leveling process that goes on within each community.. (1927:481). The process of diffusion can of course be observed, at least in some measure, by studying the written evidence, and in more modem times the evidence of oral recordings. But we now know enough about structured variation in language use to be able to observe innovation actually taking place in a language community and to investigate empirically how such innovations are adopted and then diffused through and among social networks. Work since the late 1960s in sociolinguistics (e.g. Labov 1966, 1972a, b; Trudgil11974a; Cheshire 1982; L. Milroy 1980} and in speech accommodation theory (e.g. Giles & Powesland 1975; Giles & Coupland 1991) has shown us that we can observe change in action. In addition, J. Milroy (1992) has shown us how we can extrapolate back from the extensive sociolinguistic work done in Belfast in the late 1970s, in which researchers observed how innovative pronunciations were adopted and diffused from one part of the city to another, to earlier periods in the history of the language. We can apply the same theoretical principles derived from empirical observation to make strong hypotheses about what might have taken place in the 'systematically differentiated systems' of the past. More than any other social dialectologist, 'Ihldgill ( 1986a; et al. 1998f, 2000e) has shown us how we can observe new dialect formation by using the principles of accommodation theory and applying them to dialect contact situations. My aim in this chapter is to use some of these insights, particularly those focusing on social network structure, to account for an important set of ongoing lexical changes in the Swiss German dialects involving borrowings from English and, in doing so, to revise our account of innovation, adoption and diffusion. In particular, I argue that Milroy's claim that weak links between peripheral members of different social networks are the carriers of innovation does not preclude Labov's explanation that central network members might also be the instigators of innovation. I shall also argue that the social network approach to language change simplifies the type of role played by social networks in the actuation process. In the period of innovation, adoption and diffusion ofborrowings from English into the Swiss German dialects from around the mid-1960s to the present day. the structure of those networks in which changes were occurring is enormously complex, involving dose-knit as well as open networks, overlapping and interrelated networks and even networks that appear to have been mutually antagonistic. I shall argue that language contact situations in which innovations occur need not involve direct, face-to-face communication. On the contrary, they may involve less direct contact, e.g. through the plethora of communica-

A new look at the actuation problem U7

tion media and the symbolic value of certain languages and language varieties and the lifestyles with which they are associated. In other words, the path from innovation to adoption to diffusion is not as simple as has been assumed. The principal questions can be put as follows: 1. Is there a particularly salient period of time within the past 35 years in

which we can witness an influx of innovative borrowings into Swiss German from English? By 'salient' I mean a set of events that took place over a restricted period of time and which exerted a significant influence over local, and, by extension, national politics. 2. If so, is that historically salient set of events amenable to social network analysis in such a way that we can plot or reconstruct the channels of diffusion leading from it through time and across geographical, social and temporal distance? 3. Ifso, what does this tell us about the role of weak links and central network members in actuating language change?

The linguistic situation in Switzerland Constitutionally, Switzerland now has four official languages: German (i.e. Standard German) spoken by roughly 63% of the population, French ( 19% ), Italian (8%) and Romantsch (0.6%). Vutually all Romantsch speakers are bilingual in Romantsch and German. Out of a total population of just over 7 million, almost a million are not Swiss citizens and speak a large diversity of other languages. These include English speakers, who number almost 0.8% of the total and who thus exceed the number of Romantsch speakers. The indigenous languages of Switzerland are largely confined to their own geographical territories. The non-indigenous languages, on the other hand, are spread in unequal proportions around the country. As if this situation were not already complex enough, three of the language territories- the German-speaking (the 'Deutschschweiz'), Romantschspeaking (the 'Romantschia' in the Canton of Grisons) and Italian-speaking (in the Canton ofTicino and some of the southern-facing valleys of the Grisons) are characterised by a large number of local dialects, which, in the case of the Deutschschweiz and the Ticino, have led to a strongly diglossic situation, and in the case of the Romantschia to the artificial creation of a standard form of Romantsch known as Rumantsch Grischun.

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Ferguson's (1959) description of the Deutschschweiz as a classic diglossic situation underestimates the strong association of the local dialects and identity and is not explicit about the appropriateness of usage of the two varieties. High German is indeed used in the public domains that Ferguson lists, but the dialects are in use in some 'high' domains, e.g. the law courts, churches, in roughly 60-70% of all radio programmes and almost 50% of all television programmes, 1 amongst academics, in some cantonal parliaments and, increasingly, in the first two to three grades of primary school In addition, there is a thriving rock music culture in the German of the Upper Valais, Bern and ZUrich, and, at least in Bemese German, there is a thriving literary tradition in both prose and poetry. So notions such as 'high' and 'low in relation to the Swiss German dialects are simply not appropriate. This complexity is heightened by the presence of English in Switzerland. Although it is not an indigenous language, it enjoys very high prestige (d. Andres 1996). Its use as a link language across the language borders, particularly between French and German speakers, has reached such proportions that there is increasing evidence that a non-native variety of Swiss English is currently in the process of formation. z Most of the multinational corporations based in Switzerland either use English on a regular basis in the higher echelons of management or have declared English, in one case even 'American~ as their corporate language. The effect of these developments is now being felt in the public education systems of the 26 cantons; the Canton of ZUrich has already taken the unprecedented step of introducing English in the first grade of primary school, thereby demoting the learning of the indigenous language French, a move supported by 13 of the cantons in the Deutschschweiz, the exceptions being those cantons on the language borders. The Swiss German dialects have always been open to lexical borrowing from neighbouring languages, e.g. from French or Italian, particularly if those languages are prestigious and, as we shall see, borrowing from English is not new.

Lexical borrowing &om English in the Swiss German dialects The Swiss German dialects have been prolific borrowers from English for at least thirty-five years now, and the number and types of borrowing seem to be increasing, particularly in verbal interaction among young people and within specific social fields, e.g. sports, the music scene, e-mail chatrooms, SMS, internet parties, etc., and, sadly perhaps the most productive field for innovations from English, the drug scene.

A new look at the actuation problem nt

One of the earliest lexical borrowings still in regular use in Swiss German today is tschuute (in the Eastern Swiss German dialects) or schuute (Western dialects), meaning 'to play football~ Its obvious source is the English verb shoot, although no one today would say 'shoot a goal~ It stems &om the first decade of the twentieth century and has been so solidly integrated into the dialects that it is no longer even recognised as a loanword. The vocabulary of football is replete with borrowings &om English that are less obscure than tschuute. It is more interesting and at the same time more problematic, however, to account for the adoption and diffusion of English borrowings &om social networks like the drug scene and the alternative (i.e. non-classical, non-popular) music scene. The diffiuion of many innovative borrowings is both geographical and social At the same time, several innovations that had been adopted in more localised social networks, particularly in the Zurich area in the early 1980s, are no longer actively in use, while others can be dated later in time but cannot yet be said to have achieved the kind of native speaker status that is given to tschuute. We need to deal briefly with the following two questions at this point -

Can we observe innovations as they occur?

-

Do these innovations arise in language contact situations in which the innovator introduces a new linguistic expression that he/she has acquired in interaction in another network?

An example of how we can indeed observe innovations as they occur is pro-

vided by what happens in my own family. At home we speak the Zurich dialect of German. My wife, who is a native speaker of Zurich German (ZG), regularly introduces English lexemes (and sometimes whole phrases in English) into her language. Yet the only occasions on which we use English together are when we are entertaining English-speaking guests or are otherwise in an Englishspeaking environment. Her English is good, but does not approach the nativespeaker level Most of her innovations are transient. Some, however, are used more than once, and some have been adopted by other members of the family. One of her innovations is the noun pat, used in utterances such as the following when encouraging me to take the dog to my office: nimmsch en mit, dann drunnt lr e paar pats aber 'take him with you, then he11 get a few pats~ Her reason for introducing the word pat is that there is no appropriate lexeme in Swiss German to express what we do when we pat a dog. Pat conveniently fills this gap. There are thus plausible system-internal motivations for the use of an innovation.

uo Richard J. Watts

This particular borrowing from English is an innovation taken from a prestigious language, or, to use a term from Bourdieu, a language with a very high market value in Switzerland. But my wife has not taken these lexemes from verbal interaction in English. Language contact does not always involve the borrower in real situations of verbal interaction with speakers of the donor language. We might call such language contact 'virtual" rather than 'actual~ It is important to bear this in mind when we consider the influx of innovative borrowings into Swiss German from English during the past 35 years.

The youth movement in Switzerland between 1968 and 1984 In addressing the first of the three research questions presented earlier, we can begin by noting that teenagers today are the most prolific users of English expressions in their Swiss German. Some of these expressions are then diffused into the language of other speakers. Looking back over the last 30 to 35 years in recent Swiss history, we can locate a salient period of time beginning in 1968 and coming to a close roughly in 1984, when the question of youth culture was a dominant and problematic local concern in Swiss politics. Had the teenagers of today been born earlier, they too could have been members of that youth movement indeed, many of them do participate in the transformations of youth culture with which we are familiar today. We might look, then, to the youth movement as a possible source of linguistic innovations. We need to locate events involving the youth movement in Switzerland during the period between 1968 and 1984 within a wider framework embracing Western Europe (in particular France, Germany and, to a lesser extent, Britain) and the USA If we restrict our view for the moment to Europe, the events prior to and during 1968 indicate that there was a broadly based political awareness among the working classes and intellectuals (students, writers, academics, artists, etc.) in many countries that greater freedom of expression and greater equality of opportunity for all sections of society should form the basis of the political agenda. It challenged the political establishment. and had its roots in the opposition to the Vietnam War, in the civil rights movement and in the peace movement in the USA Much of the terminology of resistance and revolution was taken from English, particularly from rock and from the vocabulary of drug consumption. In Switzerland, youth movement cells were set up in Zurich, Basel. Bern and Lausanne,3 but in contrast to the 'Paris uprising' in 1968, there was never a

A new look at the actuation problem

real unification of the interests of the youth movement with those of the political organisations of the working classes;' nor was the youth movement able to present a united political front. During the period 1968-1984 there were many confrontations, often violent, between police and young people in the streets, most of which stemmed from the refusal of the authorities to allow a meeting place for an ~utonomous Youth Centre' (in German ~tonomes Jugendzentrum~ AJZ). Any locations used provisionally as a youth centre in fact became infiltrated by drug addicts, dealers or, sometimes militant socialists. Eventually, in June 1980, the unrest spread from the streets to the university, fuelled by a 2-day riot in front of the Opera House in the Oty of Zurich. The riot involved youth activists and other young people including some who had just emerged from a Bob Marley concert, and was filmed by university students. The Opera House riot was the culmination of over a decade of struggle by the youth movement to acquire premises for the AJZ. but it was also the catalyst which created a brief period of solidarity between those who had been carrying out that struggle and students at the university who sympathised with them or who had also taken part in the riot. Afterwards, the AJZ was finally installed in a disused building on the Limmatstrasse. This was a period in which the city authorities took a hard line towards demonstrators and the demonstrators showed progressively less consideration for private property. The AJZ was twice closed then reopened. Leaders of the youth movement were powerless to prevent the drug scene from infiltrating the AJZ. and anarchy reigned. During this period most of the student sympathisers left the movement. The AJZ was finally closed on March 17, 1982, and the building was demolished onMarch28.

Patroncini's lexicon of the &usensprache ('the language of the streets') I now return to the second question presented above of whether social network analysis can be applied to this salient period to reconstruct the channels of diffusion of English lexical items in Swiss German. The answer depends on our knowledge of the social networks prominent in the youth movement immediately prior to the Opera House riot and the final closure of the AJZ. and on whether we have any evidence of what English words were actually prevalent in the language of the youth movement. Much of what I present in the following two sections is a reconstruction from historical documents and my own observations at the time. It is therefore necessarily speculative. However, we also have as a source a seminar paper

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written by a student, Eva Patroncini, for Professor Ernst I.eisi's oourse at the University of Zurich in the summer semester of 1980, i.e. at the time of the Opera House riot The tide of the paper in English is "Zurich slang: a lexicon ofthe Anglicisms in the language ofthe streets in Zurich~ Patroncini poses and gives answers to the following two questions: On the one hand, wt: could ask how the language of Zurich's streets [ie. the youth movement activists: RJW] differs from the rest of the Zurich dialect. The following four features can be stressed: fintly, several of the words in that language, YJOrds that are also part of the general Zurich dialect, acquire new connotations or evm totally new meanings. Secondly, a considerable number of in-group words and expressions belong to the language of the streets. Thirdly, the language is characterised by a whole set of swearwords as well as a relatively high &equency of 'strong expressions~ And fourthly, it contains the Anglicisms that I have collected here, although only some of these belong exclusively to the Zurich scene. On the other hand, wt: must try to assign the language of the streets to a group of individuals who speak that language, or at least understand it. But this is exceptionally difficult as we do not seem to be dealing with a homogeneous group of people. The best way of dealing with the phenomenon is to treat it as being subcultural. At any rate those who speak or understand the language ofthe streets cannot be easily classified in terms ofage or sodal background. They include children, youths, adults (even those more advanced in years) as well as people from different social classes and inteDectuallevels. The connecting link between all these individuals is the so-called subc:ulture with which all those who speak the language of the streets come into contact in one way or another; this may be through modern theatre, the latest Hterature in which comics play an ever more important role, or it may be through drugs or modem (non-classical) music that reaches us above all via the medium of English. (My translation: RJW)

As a student, Eva Patroncini was a member of the youth movement and came into frequent contact with other members both on the streets (i.e. in demonstrations), at the plenary meetings held to discuss youth policy in the face of restrictions placed on them by the City Council, and later at the AJZ.5 For the purpose of collecting data, she spent a period of 6 weeks noting down as many Anglicisms as she could in restaurants, 'uf di gass' (i.e. in the red light district in Zurich), at plenary meetings in the Volkshaus, at the AJZ and at the university. We can therefore safely assume that her observations are correct. All in all she collected 96 English lexical items in regular use in the 'Gassensprache~ All of these had been integrated into the phonology and morphosyntax of Zurich German, some of them shifting lexical categories in the process

A new look at the actuation problem D3

(e.g. &om the English non-countable noun food to the new Swiss German verb fuude) or shifting their semantic denotation significantly (e.g. the English verb check shifts to the meaning of 'undentand' in the new Swiss German word tschlgge). The unproblematic integration of these lexemes indicates that they had been part of the language of the youth movement since at least 1968. The 'Gassensprache16 itself is recognisably Zurich German. but it mntains among the four linguistic features she mentions a high proportion of lexemes deriving &om English. We need to note. however, that only a restricted subset of those lexemes is peculiar to Zurich German. From this we can mndude that the majority of English lexemes formed part of a substratum of urban Swiss German dialects peculiar to the youth movement and that they had already been in place for some time. Of this subset, several refer to aspects of the drug scene, e.g. aatiJrne ('to tum on') in reference to the effects of psychedelic drugs; others focus on vocabulary from the music scene, e.g. wraibs ('vibes', vibrations indicating an emotional reaction to music), rage or rltgi ('reggae' music): and still others refer generally to people's appearance or disposition, e.g. abgfodct ('fucked up', which is an ingenious mmbination of the German prefix ab- meaning 'down' and the ZG past participle gfadct &om the English verb 'fuck'), happi ('happy'). Ifthese borrowings were shared by the youth culture ofSwiss German cities other than Zurich, how long had they been established as part of the language of the subculture, and which individuals spread them from one dialect to another? We can be fairly sure that they were introduced as innovations from the Anglo-American rock music of the 1960s and the dose association of that music with drug consumption and forms of meditation stemming from India. We saw above that such innovations do not necessitate face-to-face interaction between the original users of the terms and actual borrowers. The two centres of infiltration for lexical innovations such as those in Patroncini's lexicon were probably Zurich and Basel, and when rock concerts were held in these cities there was ample opportunity for contact between members of the youth movements from most centres in the Deutschschweiz and even with those &om the French-speaking part of the country, the Romandie. So the geographical diffusion of most of the 96 items in Patroncini's leximn must have been going on for at least 12 years prior to when she collected them in 1980, possibly even longer than that, an assumption which is corroborated by the high degree of integration that these borrowings displayed in 1980. We can further assume that the items in Patroncini's lexicon predate the Opera House Riot by a number of years.

124 Richard J. Watts

This makes it exceedingly difficult to answer the third question about the role of weak links and central network members in actuating language change. On the other band, Patroncinrs comments on the heterogeneous nature of the

youth movement and the fact that English borrowings were only one linguistic characteristic of the 'Gassensprache' lead to the conclusion that we are not only dealing with a 'systematically differentiated' linguistic system but also with a highly, if not systematically, differentiated set of social networks. The following two sections will deal with the nature of this complex situation and suggest where innovation, adoption and diffusion may have begun. It will inevitably lead to a more differentiated theory of the function of social network structure in language change.

The 'Gasseusprache' u an anti-lani'IIP Patroncini's comment that English borrowings form only part of the overall 'Gassensprache- must be taken seriously. She participated in the youth movement of the early 1980s in Zurich and wrote her seminar paper around the time of the Opera House riot at the end of May 1980. She had ample opportunity to observe members of the youth movement using the 'Gassensprache~ and I was able to observe her shifting into that variety on occasion. Ifwe want to describe features of the 'Gassensprache' of the 1980s youth movement in Zurich, we need to consider those features of Zurich German dialect that were associated with in-group connotations, as well as the new expressions that were coined in Zurich German and the forms of 'strong language" in use during verbal interaction- in addition to the English borrowings in Patroncini"s lexicon.7 I will not speculate on what those other features were; but the types of feature that Patroncini lists indicate that it was a form of'anti-language~ i.e. a language variety that is used consciously in an effort to create a group identity opposed to commonly accepted social standards and codes of behaviour (c£ Fairclough 1989; Pujolar 2000; see also Jahr, this volume; Sifianou, this volume). Anti-languages are associated with groups on the fringes of society who are attempting to construct alternative modes of communication. Labov»s research in New York (1972a) was also focused on what can be seen as a form of anti-language, and it was through a social network analysis of the youth gangs in Afro-American areas of New York that he assigned the innovation and diffusion of new linguistic features to the central members of the network rather than to the peripheral members with weak links to other networks.

A new look at the actuation problem 1.25

English borrowings were certainly a prominent feature of the anti-language of the 'Gassensprache~ but those who used them belonged primarily either to the drug scene or to the music scene. If they were used by others in the youth movement, this functioned to create a sense of identity among aU the members, helping them to perform genuine 'acts of identity' (I.e Page & Tabouret-Keller 1985) in which opposition to established authority- the police, the family, the school- was expressed. Of the four characteristic features of the 'Gassensprache' listed by Patroncini, lexical borrowings from English were introduced over a long period of time and were probably infiltrated through weak links with other youth movement networks. Neologisms in Zurich German and commonly used Zurich German expressions that carry new, idiosyncratic connotations could very easily have been the innovations of central network members and have been diffused from the centre to the periphery. But why was the 'Gassensprache' itself significant for performing acts of identity involving the vague concept of the 'youth movement~ and in what situations did it become necessary to project that identity? When the 'movement' was threatened by the forces of the establishment, e.g. at and immediately after the Opera House riot, the 'Gassensprache' took on the function of displaying a solidarity which was, in effect, an illusion, as we shall see in the following section.

Weak links and central network members: A complex of social networks Let us now turn to the third question and consider the role of weak links and central network members in actuating language change. In reality, there was no unified youth movement in the early 1980s. When we look at the overall social structure of the movement, we are faced with a complex set of social networks, intersecting, overlapping and often conflicting with one another, some doseknit and others more open. Drug addicts tended to form close-knit networks, but these served the primary purpose of providing members with access to drugs and secondarily of making sure that members stayed within the drug scene. The networks thus functioned to protect individual interests rather than to offer other members support and solidarity. This is a rather different kind of dose-knit network than those envisaged by J. Milroy (1992), and it raises the question of which network members would have been the most prolific innovators and adopters. Originally, it is likely that innovative borrowings from English came from those

126 Richard J. Watts

members with frequent links with the dealers and that they were very quickly adopted by central network members. Other social networks were more openly structured, e.g. those mmposed of people who were interested in alternative forms of culture like rock music, experimental theatre, art, etc. Contact between these groups would have been much more frequent, and more members of these networks would have been peripheral members with weak links to other networks. Many of the members of these networks were students. Activist political groups, on the other hand, were more closely-knit and more supportive. Central members of these groups exerted strong pressure over other members to conform to the political line the group was pursuing. In these groups, it is quite likely that innovations other than the introduction of English lexemes into the 'Gassensprache' stemmed from the central members. At moments of crisis, such as the Opera House riot in 1980, heterogeneous social networks such as these focused on the mmmonly shared elements of the 'Gassensprache~ as there was a perceived need to present a front of homogeneity and to re-mnstruct the idea of the 'youth movement~ English lexemes then became important symbolic markers of group identity, and at such times they were focused on more frequently by central network members, particulady in politically active groups. This makes it impossible to say who was responsible for diffusing forms of the 'Gassensprache~ i.e. whether it was central or peripheral network members. It is only possible to speculate here about who were the innovators, adopters and diftUsers. The history of the movement indicates that central network members in certain of the networks were just as important in actuating language change in Zurich German as peripheral members with weak links to other networks. Members of the music scene and the drug scene were dearly introducing English lexemes into their variety of the 'Gassensprache' over a period of years. Central members of those networks, even though they may not have been innovators, certainly were early adopters, and they used those features of the 'Gassensprache' to exercise forms of social mntrol over other members.

Theoretical implications

The historical events presented in this chapter have had important effects on internal Swiss politics since the mid-1960s. The negative press given to the Zurich drug scene during the 1990s in the international media ignored the fact

A new look at the actuation problem U7

that Swiss cantonal authorities were learning the lessons of the 1980s and have effectively managed to contain the drug scene, to allow for the reintegration of drug addicts into the workforce, and to allow them to live more 'normal' lives. Opportunities for alternative forms of culture have been created in virtually all of the urban centres within the country, and there are now youth centres in which young people can meet and organise themselves on their own terms and not on those of the establishment. All of this has created a transformation of the public image of young people searching for alternative lifestyles, a search that came from the bottom up and expressed itself in the form of rebellion against normative, established beliefs. Changes in the structure and use of the Swiss German dialects can therefore be considered as examples of vernacular change. As a consequence, most of those changes have gone largely unnoticed. The most salient changes, i.e. those changes that have attracted public attention, involve the increased {and increasing) number of anglicisms in daily oral use in the Swiss German dialects. Quite apart from the interest that Swiss dialectologists obviously have in this phenomenon, it provides social dialectologists and historical linguists in general with a fascinating set of theoretical and methodological questions. Looking at language change from the point of view of social network structure challenges the idea that a language variety is a homogeneous linguistic system. No one today, after Trudgill's pioneering work on language variation in Norwich and Labov's work in New York City, can seriously doubt the validity of Weinreich et al.'s principle that it is a 'systematically differentiated system'. But the data that can be amassed to track the introduction of anglicisms into Swiss German and their consequent diffusion through geographical, social and temporal space raise a number of very important questions of both a theoretical and a methodological nature for the social network approach to social dialectology and language change. The tentative data I have presented here reveal a very complex situation, in which social networks overlapped. criss-crossed, influenced one another, were antagonistic towards one another, etc. and in which some of those networks were dose-knit while others were much more open. They also reveal that the 'Gassensprache' was a form of subversive anti-language, in which English borrowings were only one component. If we are going to use a social network analysis to account for the phenomena of language change in social dialectology, we will need to take adequate account ofhow anti-languages function. But, more importantly, we will need to develop a much more sophisticated account of how social networks come into being, develop and change, one in which

u8

Richard J. Watts

greater focus is placed on what I have called 'emergent networks~ i.e. networks that come into being through and during ongoing verbal interaction. One final word needs to be made on the document that sparked oft' my interest in this topic, Eva Patroncini's seminar paper for Ernst I.eisi. To conclude her paper, Patroncini states the following: One further problem area concerns the prediction concerning which words will be retained over a longer period of time, or even forever, and which words will soon have disappeared without a trace. At this point 1 would merely like to suggest very generally that there seems to be an important distinction between whether or not there is an equivalent word in Zurich German for an 'English" word. For example, I do not believe that words like fuude or slype will remain as it is easy enough to say the same thing with a Zurich German word. On the other hand, there are words like fryk. schtrlsse, flippe, etc. which have established themselves or will establish themselves insofar as they have a specific meaning that can only be expressed in a roundabout way in our language.

It would interest her to know that aD of those words are still in use today. Fuude and tschi!gge are alive and well. They have become part of the Swiss German dialects, i.e. not just of ZG, and although fuude is restricted to the language of the young, tschegge is in general use: Tscheggsch es?

Notes 1. These percentages only give a wry roup estimate of the use of Swiss Gennan on radio and television. In order to provide a reliable figure, more extensive research would be

needed. As a rough indication, however, the television programme for any one day may be taken at random. For example, on December 18, 2002, the first channel of Swiss German television (SF1) listed 25 items, some longer than others, 11 of which would almost certainly have been broadcast in dialect, one in Romantsch and 12 in standard German. The 25th item was a Swiss Italian film. 2. A taearch team under the direction of Peter 1iudgill. David Allerton and myself are currently investigating the emergence of what we call 'Pan-Swiss English' in Switzerland, where the input to a new non-native Swiss variety of English comes from (at least) three different languages (French, Italian and Swiss German). 3· There "Wa"e also youth movements in other smaller towns like St Gallen, Schaffhausen, Biel, Lucerne. etc. 4- Certain activists of that period, however, have since risen to political prominence in both Switzerland and Germany. There was also frequent movement between youth groups in different cities when demonstrations were organised or empty houses were occupied throopout the 1970s, what one former member of the youth movement has called Polittourismus ('political tourism').

A new look at the actuation problem

s.

She now works as a lawyer in Zurich.

6. I will henceforth use the German term Gtusensprache to refer to this variety of ZG rather

than translate it (somewhat inadequately) as 'the languase of the streets'. 7· Interviews with former activists in smaDertowns like Lucerne, SLGallen andSchaftbausen reveal that whenever they participated in demonstrations or went to the AJZ in Zurich, they

had considerable difficulty in understanding the 'Gassensprache' and were often excluded &om insider activities because they were not able to use this linguistic variety (Nigg 2001 ).

References Andres, F. (1996). Language Choice in Bilinpal Education: Sociolinguistic, Social and

Political Issues in the Case of Switzerland. Ph.D. thesis, University of Berne. Bloomfield. L. ( 1927). Uterate and illiterate speech. AS, 2, 432-439. Cheshire, J. (1982). Variation in an English Dilllect A Sociolinguistic Study. Cambridge: CambricJse University Press. FairclousJt. N. ( 1989). Language and Ebwer. London: Longman. Ferguson, C. (1959). Diglossia. Word, 15,325-340. Giles, H. & Coupland, N. ( 1991 ). Language: Contexts and Consequences. Buckingham: Open University Press. Giles, H. 8t Powesland. P. F. ( 1975). Speech Style and Social Education. New York and London: Academic Press. Labov, W. (1966). The Social Stratification of English in New York City. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Unguistics. Labov, W. (1972a). Language in the Inner City: Studies in the Black English Vernacular. Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press. Labov, W. ( 1972b). Sociolinguistic Patterns. Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press. LePage, R. & '18bouret-1Celler, A. (1985). Acts ofIdentity. Oxford: Basil BlackweU. Milroy, J. (1992). Linguistic Variation and Clumge. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Milroy, L. (1980). Language and Social Networks. Oxford: Basil BlackweD. Nigg, H. (Ed.). (2001). W~r wollen alle5, aber subito! Die Achtziger /ugerulunruhen in der Schweiz und ihre Folgen. ZOrich: Limmat Verlag. Patroncini, E. (1980). ZH-Slang: Lexikon der Anglizismen in der ZOrcher Gassensprache. Seminar paper, UniYmity of Zurich, Department of EnsJish Pujolar, J. (2000). Gender. Heteroglossia and Power: A Sociolinguistic Study of Youth Culture. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Weinreich, U., Labov, W., 8t Herzog, M. (1968). Empirical foundations for a theory of languase change. In W. I.elnnann & Y. Malkiel (Eds.), Directions for Historical Linguistics (pp. 97-195).Austin, TX: UniversityofTexas Press.

1~

Parallel development and alternative restructuring The case of weren't intensification* Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes North Carolina State University I Georgetown University

Introduction The fact that past tense be is the only English verb to preserve distinct singular and plural preterit forms makes it one of the most susceptible candidates in the English language for analogically based leveling. Most vernacular varieties of English throughout the world therefore indicate some degree of past-tense be leveling. In the vast majority of vernacular dialects, was is the pivot form for leveling, as in I was, you was, and so forth, and Chambers ( 1995: 242) asserts that leveling to was is one of the "primitives, of vernacular dialects throughout the English-speaking world Leveling to was bas been documented in settings that range from the vernacular dialects in the world's largest English-speaking population in the United States (Wolfram & Fasold 1974; Wolfram & SchillingEstes 1998) to a small, remote community in the world's loneliest island in the South Atlantic, Tristan da Cunha (Schreier 2002, 2003). The extensive distribution of leveling to was among vernacular English dialects throughout the world (Wolfram & Fasold 1974; "ftudgill1990a; Cheshire 1991; Tagliamonte & Smith 1999; Schneider, forthcoming) suggests that it can occur as an independent, parallel language change apart from historical language contact and/or diffusion. At the same time, alternative patterns for past be leveling have been documented in some varieties of English, including leveling to were as in I were there and she were there. Studies of regional vernacular varieties in England (e.g. Orton et al. 1962-1971; Cheshire 1982; "ftudgilll990a; Tagliamonte &

~

Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

Smith 1999) have documented this alternative leveling pattern for some time now. In regions of England and in a restricted region in the US, however, there is a different minority pattern involving a type of remorphologization based on polarity rather than plurality. With this pattern, the were stem is restricted to negative constructions as in 1/youl(s)helwe/you/they weren't there, and the was stem may be used for affirmative constructions as in 1/youl(s)helwe/youlthey was there. In some cases, polarity is limited to negatives, so that the were stem occurs exclusively with negatives but the was stem does not occur exclusively with positive constructions, whereas in other cases there is a symmetrical polarity in which were is restricted to negative and was is restricted to positive sentences (Schilling-Estes & Wolfram 1994; Britain 2002). Recent studies of this form note a further structural phenomenon in that the were stem is restricted to the contracted form weren't rather than the isolable morphs were and not in a way that parallels the non-isolable form ain't in the present tense (Schilling-Estes & Wolfram 1994; Britain 2002; Middlestaedt & Parrott 2002). Thus, a construction such as I weren't there is a well-formed grammatical sequence whereas a sentence such as •J were not there is not a well-formed grammatical string. The historical development and the structural status of the weren't variant have been explained in various ways. For example, Schilling-Estes and Wolfram (1994) hypothesize that the suppletivelike form weren't developed through analogy with ain't (ain't but not *ai(n) not), whereas Middlestaedt and Parrott (2002) explain this restriction on the basis of a structural constraint within distributed morphology in which the negative head and the auxiliary head are fused, based on an explanatory principle of allomorphy reduction. The possible historical derivation of the form and its desaiption within a distributed morphology account are, of course, not mutually exclusive, and we will return to the issue of explanation in our discussion. Another observation about regularization to weren't, and the one examined in this chapter, relates to its current trajectory of change. An expanding body of research in representative communities within the Mid-Atlantic seaboard region of the US suggests that leveling to weren't is a robust pattern that appears to be escalating in communities that seem to have had little contact with each other over the course of the past several generations. This observation is particularly noteworthy given the fact that leveled weren't is a minority variant that is restricted in its dialect distribution. Apart &om the Mid-Atlantic coastal region of the US and some areas in England (e.g. Orton et al. 19621971; Cheshire 1982; Trudgill1990a; Britain 2002), there is no documentation ofleveling to weren't among the broadly distributed transplant varieties of En-

Parallel development and alternatiw: restructuring 133

glish throughout the world. Furthermore, descriptions of English-based aeoles (Holm 1988, 1989) do not document this alternative, nor do descriptions of Mrican American Vernacular English (AAVE) (Labov et al. 1968; Wol&am 1969; Weldon 1994; Rickford 1999; Green 2002). Given this evidence, it is reasonable to assume that, outside of England, the pattern of leveling to weren't described here is a distinct, regionally restricted pattern within the US. In this description, we consider the incidence of leveling to weren't in apparent time in several communities within the Mid-Atlantic coastal region to determine its present trajectory of change. Is there evidence to suggest that this alternative leveling pattern is independently intensifying over time? If so, how do we explain such escalation, particularly in light of the fact that some of the varieties examined here are undergoing rapid dissipation with respect to other traditional dialect features? And what does this say about minority pattern development and language change?

Leveling to weren't in apparent time: A comparative perspective In this section, we consider change in past be leveling for four different coastal communities in the Mid-Atlantic region of the United States. These include three different locations in coastal North Carolina, two island communities on the Outer Banks and one coastal community on mainland North Carolina, and one island community in Maryland's Chesapeake Bay. The location of these sites is given in the map in Figure 1. According to the records of the Linguistic Atlas of the United States and Canada (Atwood 1953: Fig. 24), the historical distribution ofleveling to weren't and were includes the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Virginia, the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and a few locations in the Appalachian Mountains in West Virginia, North Carolina, and VIrginia. In the US, productive use ofleveling to were and weren't now seems confined to a dialect region along the Mid-Atlantic coast that extends from the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Vuginia, including Tangier Island (Shores 2000) and Smith Island (Schilling-Estes 1997, 2000) in the Chesapeake Bay, to the Outer Banks barrier islands and the adjacent coastal region of mainland of North Carolina, as far inland as the eastern part of the Coastal Plain. Thus, Wolfram and Sellers (1999) document the use of leveled weren't among the Lumbee Indians in the sand hills of North Carolina to complement its documented use on the coast. For each of these communities examined in this study, we consider the incidence of leveling to weren't in terms of the apparent time construct (Bai-

134 Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

Fipre I. Sita of independent weren't intensification

ley, Wdde, Tillery, & Sand 1991; Labov 1994). That is, we consider the speech

of different age groups of speakers to be representative of different stages in the development of the community dialect. Although previous studies of leveling to weren't considered a range of constraints that included various types of internal linguistic constraints (e.g., the type of subject) and external constraints (e.g., gender and ethnicity) (Schilling-Estes & Wolfram 1994; Wolfram & Sellers 1999; Wolfram & Thomas 2002; Schilling-Estes 2000; Murphy 2000), our focus here is on the overall pattern of change aaoss different generations of speakers. In each of these communities, the analysis of leveling to weren't was part of a more comprehensive study of other dialect traits (e.g. Wolfram & Schilling-Estes 1995; Wolfram, Hazen, & Schilling-Estes 1999; Schilling-Estes 1998; Schilling-Estes & Wolfram 1999), so that we have an idea of the overall progression of dialect change in each of the communities as weD as a profile of change for past tense be. After comparing the cross-generational patterns of change for the different communities in the coastal Mid-Atlantic region, we compare these patterns to the pattern found for the British Fens (Britain 2002. personal communication) to give a broader, trans-Atlantic perspective on the status of past tense be over time.

Parallel development and alternatiw: restructuring 135

Oaacoke

Our original investigation of past tense be regularization centered on Ocracoke Island (Schilling-Estes & Wolfram 1994), a small barrier island on the Outer Banks of North Carolina that existed in relative isolation for nearly three centuries. More recently, tourists and new residents have increasingly inundated Ocracoke, especially since the introduction of paved roads and a state-run ferry service in the mid 1900s. Our study of Ocracoke English showed that many distinguishing dialect features (e.g. the backing and raising of the nucleus of fail in words like tide and time) were rapidly dissipating (Wolfram & Schilling-Estes 1995), and we sought to determine if leveling to weren't was sharing the same fate. In Figure 2, adapted from Schilling-Estes and Wolfram (1994), we summarize the incidence of leveling to was (e.g. We was there), leveling to wasn't (e.g. We wasn't there), leveling to were (e.g. She were there), and leveling to weren't (e.g. I weren't there) for three generations of speakers. The percentages are based on actual number of leveled cases out of potential occurrences for each of the four categories of leveled forms. We also present the results of a VARBRUL analysis of leveling to wasln't and wereln•t by the external factor group of age and the internal factor group of polarity. For our purposes here, we do not include the detailed analysis of subject type and gender included in the original study. The first age group {Gen. I) represents speakers born between 1911 and 1933, the second group (Gen. D) represents speakers born between 1934 and 1958, and the third group {Gen. m) represents speakers born between 1967 and 1983, thus offering a time depth of more than 70 years in apparent time. The majority of the interviews were conducted from 1993 to 1995 so that the speakers' ages ranged from 11 to 82 at the time of the original interviews. The descriptive statistics and VARBRUL analysis results reveal several important cross-generational trends in the leveling of past be in Ocracoke. First of all, we see the robustness of leveling to weren't in relation to the other leveled forms. It is a relatively productive variant for all generations of speakers, and even shows some intensification for the youngest speakers. Leveling to were in positive constructions, as in I were there, was rare to begin with and it is now obsolete, while leveling to was in positive contexts, as in We was there, is also declining. The strength of the remorphologization for the were stem on the basis of negative polarity is indicated by the extraordinarily high weighting for negative polarity in the VARBRUL results. The healthy maintenance of leveling to weren't is striking in light of the fact that other longstanding dialect features we studied {Wolfram, Hazen, & Schilling-Estes 1999) showed dramatic :recession

Q6 Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

100 80

t

~leveling to was

60

~

1=1

§

ct

40 20

~leveliq to wrun•r ......leveliq to wr:re -N-1.-..Iino to wr:ren•r

..Ill..

~~

~

0

Gen. I

Gen.m

Gen.U

Generational group

Fipre 2. Evidence from Ocracoke (adapted &om Schilling-Estes & Wol&am 1994: 287-288)

Generation Gen. I (b. 1911-1933)

Gen.U (b. 1934-1958)

Gen.W (b. 1967-1983)

Leveled to was 13/91 14.3% 23/142 16.2% 8/85 9.4%

Leveled to MISiit

Leveled to

were

Leveled to wmn't

0/10 0.0% 2/11 18.2% 0/4 0.0%

6/464 1.3% 6/733 0.8% 0/262 0.0%

18/37 48.6% 27/58 46.6% 14/25 56.0%

VARBRUL RESUil'S Generation/Polarity

Leveled to wtiS/n't Input Prob. =.15

Generation Gen. I Gen.n

.46

Lewled to wndn't Input Prob. =.01

.58 .39

.64 .39 .52

Nepti~

.50 .47

.41 .99

Clti Ill· per ull

1.22

1.72

Gen.m Polarity Positive

Parallel development and altemati"Ve restructurins 137

among the youngest generation of Ocracoke speakers. For example, the incidence of -s with third plural verbs (e.g. People does that) as described in Hazen (1996, 2000) and the backing and raising of the nucleus of Jail in words like tide and time (Wol&am 8c Schilling-Estes 1995; Wolfram, Hazen, 8c SchillingEstes 1999) are now virtually absent in the speech of younger speakers. In fact, it is safe to say that leveling to weren't is one of the few - perhaps the onlytraditional dialect feature of the Ocracoke brogue that persists among younger speakers of this moribund dialect. Certainly, leveling to weren't is fighting the tide of overaD recession if not creating its own current.

Harkers Island Consider next the case of Harkers Island, an island community located to the south of Ocraooke in the Core Sound area of the Outer Banks of North Carolina. As a historically isolated island community, it is similar to Ocracoke in some respects, but it is also different. Like Ocraooke, the community existed as a small, peripheral community apart from the mainstream prior to the implementation of improved means of access to the community. (A bridge to Harkers Island was oonstructed in the 1940s.) Although Harkers Island is now accessible to overland transportation while Ocracoke remains accessible only by boat or air, the tourism industry has been less influential on Harkers Island than it has been on Ocraco.ke, where the economy is now almost entirely reliant on tourism. There are still some residents of Harkers Island who remain employed in traditional marine-based occupations such as commercial fishing and boat-building, despite the decline in these industries, while others commute to neighboring towns for work or are involved in a modest tourist industry that now includes a waterfowl museum. More than SO interviews were conducted in this island community in the mid-19905 (1994-1996) in order to compare language change and maintenance in different Outer Banks island communities. Our analysis of selected variables indicates that, although recession is taking place in the traditional dialect of Harkers Island, it is not receding at the dramatic rate documented for Ocracoke (Wolfram, Cheek, & Hammond 1996; Oteek 1995; Wolfram, Hazen, 8c Schilling-Estes 1999). A recent analysis of past tense be leveling in Harkers Island by Murphy (2000) allows us to compare the maintenance and change for past tense be leveling in these two Outer Banks island communities. Figure 3 summarizes Murphy's analysis of past be leveling based on a sample of speakers in three different generational groups. These groups include a set of speakers bom between 1909 and 1920 (Gen. I), a

131 Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

80

f

!

......,._leveling to was -leveling to wasn•t ..,.._leveling to were ....,._1 · to weren't

60 40 20

Gen. I

Gen.m

Gen.n Generational group

Fipre 3. Evidence from Harkers Island (adapted from Murphy 2000) Generation

Gen. I (b. 1909-1920)

Gen.U (b. 1947-1959)

Gen. HI (b.1977-1983)

Leveled to

Leveleclto twUn't

Leveleclto

Leveled to

MIS

were

Wtr~JJ't

47f15 65.3% 17/113 15.0% 32/92 34.8%

5/5 100% 2/15 13.3% 3/6 50.0%

0/222 0.0% 2/337 0.6% 0/314 0.0%

1/14 7.1% 13/20 65.0% 6/18 33.3%

VARBRUL RESUJ:rS Generation/Polarity

Leveled to wtiS/,.t Input Prob. =.32

Lewled to wenl,.t Input Prob. =.34

Generation

Gen. I Gen.U Gm.m

.79 .27 .55

.13 .79 .50

Positive Neptiw

•49 .59

.. ..

Clti "'·per cal

.155

.000

Polarity

Parallel development and altemati"Ve restructurins 139

group bom between 1947 and 1959 (Gen. D), and a group bom between 1977 and 1983 (Gen. m). These age groups are roughly equivalent to the generational groups identified for Oaacoke though there are differences in the intervals between the generational groups. As with the figures for Oaacolce, the raw figures and percentages are given along with the results of a VARBRUL analysis of past be leveling based on generation and polarity. The graphs are based on the percentages. The overall trajectory of change in past tense be leveling for Harkers Island is somewhat different from Oaacolce, although there are some striking similarities. Harkers Island shows high levels of leveling to wasln't for the oldest group of speakers, a sharp reduction for the next generation, and then a limited resurgence ofleveling for the youngest generation of speakers. With respect to weren't, the oldest generation indicates limited leveling to weren't, the next generation a sharp increase, and the youngest generation a moderate reduction, though Gen. DI still shows higher levels of leveling to weren't than Gen. I. Both Harkers Island and Oaacoke show an increase in leveling to weren't, though the intensification seems to take place between the older and middleaged generational groups for Harkers Island speakers rather than between the middle-aged and young speakers, as is the case in Oaacoke. We also see the strength of the polarity constraint in the analysis. In Harkers Island, there are no cases of leveling to were for positive constructions though there were almost 900 tokens. This suggests that the were stem is categorically restricted to negatives. Looking at the map, it may appear at first glance that Ocracoke and Harkers Island are closely linked in a geographical chain of Outer Banks communities. Although this may have been true at one point historically because of travel over the connected waterways and the primacy of maritime activities in these two communities, our current study of the respective communities actually reveals little regular interaction between Harkers Island and Oaacoke, or between them and the intervening communities that might link them in a diffusional chain for the present and past generation of speakers -the period during which the intensification of weren't has taken place. The two communities are familiar with each other's existence, and there is occasional travel between them for special occasions (e.g. an annual decoy festival held on Harkers Island one weekend a year or a weekend visit to Oaacolce for a special event). However, there is no extended, regular interaction. The two communities are in dose geographical proximity and may have been more connected through the linked waterways of the Pamlico Sound historically, but they are currently quite independent. Explaining the intensification of weren't leveling on the basis of geographic diffusion does not make sense in terms of what we know about the

1-10 Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

development of the island communities over the past half century, the period during which this escalation has taken place.

Smith Island The case of Smith Island, Maryland, offers a different geographical and sociolinguistic context for examining past tense be leveling. Smith Island is like Ocracoke and Harkers Island in that it is a small, historically insular community on the Mid-Atlantic Seaboard. It is, however, quite distinct in some essential ways, including its physical distance from the two island communities on the Outer Banks, its relationship to the mainland, and its general trajectory of language change. The island is losing population at a significant rate- from almost 700 residents in 1960 down to 364 in the 2000 Census- due to the declining crabbing and oystering industry that has forced islanders to move off the island in search of employment. The island may also be physically sinking into the bay, and some estimates suggest that significant portions of the island will be uninhabitable by the turn of the next century. Tourism is not a major industry on the island, and new residents move in only infrequently. Despite the island"s declining population and uncertain future, studies of language change in Smith Island have shown that distinguishing dialect features in general are intensifying among younger speakers rather than dissipating (Schilling-Estes 1997; Schilling-Estes & Wolfram 1999), thus setting Smith Island apart from Orcacoke and Harkers Island. In Figure 4, we present the descriptive statistics and VARBRUL analysis results for the leveling of past tense be in Smith Island, based on Schilling-Estes" analysis (2000) of four different generations of residents from two sets of sociolinguistic interviews, one carried out by Rebecca Setliff in the early 1980s and one conducted by a team of researchers at Georgetown University in the late 1990s and early 2000s. The generations are broken down on the basis of those born between 1899 and 1932 (Gen. 1), those born between 1942and 1961 (Gen. II), those born between 1965 and 1971 (Gen. m), and those born between 1975 and 1987 (Gen. IV). Although the generational divisions are somewhat different from those in the other studies, the overall time period is quite comparable, spanning most of the twentieth century. The figures for leveling to weren"t in Smith Island indicate the same intensification trend shown for Ocracoke and Harkers Island; in fact, leveling to weren't is near-categorical for the younger generations of speakers. At the same time, leveling to was is receding and leveling to wasn't is categorically absent

Parallel development and alternatiw: restructuring 141

•

~+---~----~----------~

I

40

l!

Gen. I

...,._ lew:ling to was ~leveling to wasn't _._leveling to were """*-levelin to werm•t

Gen. ll Gen. ill Gen. IV Generational group

Fipre 4. Evidence from Smith Island (from Schilling-Estes 2000) Generation

Leveled to WIU

Leveled to WIUWt

Leveled to wert

Leveled to wertn't

Gen. I (b. 1899-1932)

34/99 34.3% 17/116 14.7% 11/49 22.4% 6/51 11.8%

5/6 83.3% 2/9 22.2% 0/2 0.0 0/2 0.0%

0/418 0.0% 0/462 0.0% 0/214 0.0% 0/254 0.0%

6/27 22.2% 17/36 47.2% 12/12 100% 27/28 96.4%

Gen.n (b. 1942-1961)

Gen.m (b.1965-1971)

Gen. IV (b. 1975-1987)

VARBRUL RESUil'S Generation

Gen. I Gen. II

leftled to wiiS/n't Input Prob. =.25 .72

Leveled to werdrr't Input Prob. =.67

Gen. IV

.35 .64 .23

.08 .18 .87 .95

C1ri sq. per cell

1.238

1.030

Gen. III

142 Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

among younger speakers. Although the trend toward weren't intensification matches that found for Ocracoke and Harkers Island, there is an important difference in the overall path of change in these respective communities. In Smith Island, this trend parallels a more general trend toward dialect intensification in the traditional dialect features of the community. For example, as described in Schilling-Estes and Wolfram (1999), the raising (and sometimes backing) of the nucleus of /ail to [~~] or [tJI] in time and ride and the fronting of the glide of the /au/ diphthong to [ae] or [ae] in brown and mouth are accelerating among younger generations of speakers. So the trend toward acceleration in weren't leveling is accompanied by a more widespread strengthening of traditional dialect features. In the case of Smith Island, there is no diffusional chain that might link Smith Island in the Chesapeake Bay to Ocracoke and Harkers Island in North Carolina. In fact, in our study of Ocracoke we didn't encounter any residents who had ever visited Smith Island, and most had not even heard of it. Few Harkers Islanders had heard of Smith Island until a contingent of community members from Harkers Island visited the Smith Island cultural museum for the first time a couple of years ago for an afternoon to discuss the construction of a museum on Harkers Island. Though there may have been a historical migratory link, there has been no overland or waterway connection between Smith Island and the Outer Banks during the last century, the period during which the intensification of weren't has been taking place.

Mainland Hyde County We next consider the case of mainland Hyde County, the site of a recent analysis of co-existent Mrican American and European American communities inhabiting in this isolated marshland for almost three centuries (Wolfram & Thomas 2002). The focus of our study was the development of African American English in this isolated context adjacent to a European American community, so that the European American community was studied chiefly for comparative purposes. Accordingly, four generations of speakers were studied for the African American population, those born between 1898-1920 (Gen. I), 19271942 (Gen. II), 1954-1965 (Gen. W), and 1975-1983 (Gen. IV) but only two generations of speakers for the benchmark European American community, an elderly group born between 1902 and 1920 (Gen. I) and a young group of speakers born between 1970 and 1983 (Gen. IV). The former group is roughly equivalent to Gen. I for the African American speakers and the latter group equivalent to Gen. IV for the African American group. The raw figures and

Parallel development and alternatiw restructurins

fARBRUL analysis results are given in Figure 5. Separate VARBRUL runs were :onducted for the African American and European American groups since here was an interactive effect between ethnicity and generation. The figures ll'e adapted &om Wolfram and Thomas (2002: 74-75).

100%~--------------------------~

Gen. I

~ 5.

Gen.D Gen.ID Generational group

Gen. IV

Bi-ethnic evidence from Hyde County (from Wol&am & Thomas 2002:74) Leveled to wmit

~city/Geaeration

Leveled to WtU

!uropean American

Notr

Notr

:ien.l b.1902-1920) :ien.IV b. 1970-1983)

25/93 26.9% 16/68 23.5%

9/26 34.6 17/22 77.3

98/124 78.4%

37/81 45.7 9/14 64.3 2/23 8.7 2/53 3.8

~American

:ien.l b.1898-1920) :ien.D b.1927-1942)

:ien.W b. 1954-1965) :ien.IV b. 1975-1983)

son2 69.4% 23/35 65.7% 68/111 61.3%

144 Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

VARBRUL RESUil'S Ethaicity/Generatioa

Leveled to wru

Leveled to WNII't

Input prob. =.57

Input prob. = :1.1

.22

.59 .90

Ewopeaa Americaa

Gea.l Gen. IV

.19

A&icaa Americ:aa Gen. I

Gea.D Gea.m Gen. IV

.75 .64 .60 .55

.70 .83

O.iSf.,...td

.791

.388

.21 .10

The distribution of past tense be leveling in Figure 5 shows both similarities to and differences from the patterns for the communities oonsidered thus far. For the European American oommunity, the now-familiar intensification refrain is repeated for leveling to weren't. Elderly European Americans (Gen. I) have moderate levels of leveling to weren't, but the young generation of vernacular European American speakers (Gen. IV) has significantly higher levels of leveling to weren't. This pattern strongly parallels that for the three other oommunities we have examined thus far. The African American story, however, is quite dift'erent. The incidence of leveling to weren't for the two older African American generations matches the figures for the elderly European American generation; in &ct, their figures exceed those for the cohort European American group. Leveling to weren't then shows a dramatic recession, virtually disappearing &om the speech of middle-aged and younger African American speakers in Hyde County. We thus see a dramatic divergence in the incidence of weren't leveling, as European Americans intensify its usage while African Americans eliminate it as a variant. This pattern suggests a shift in linguistic and social association. As described in Wolfram, Thomas, and Green (2000) and in Wolfram and Thomas (2002), Hyde County African Americans are rejecting the local dialect norms and turning towards a supraregional norm that has become strongly associated with African American speech over the past century. This rejection indudes the abandonment of leveled weren't along with other morphosyntactic variants such as 3rd pl. -s marking on verbs, as in The dogs barks, as well as phonological features such as the raising and backing of the nucleus of the /ail diphthong in words like time and tide and the fronting of the glide of /au/ in words like mouth and round.

Parallel development and altemati"Ve restructurins 145

Whlle the symbolic divergence in leveling to weren"t is taking place, leveling to was is gradually diminishing for both European Americans and African Americans in Hyde O,unty, though it is still a productive pattern. In this respect, both groups of Hyde Countians match the pattern documented for the three communities previously desaibed. In other studies (Wolfram 8t Schilling-Estes 1995; Wolfram 8t Thomas 2002), we have attributed this decline in leveling to was to the encroachment of the standard English norm and its prominence as a socially diagnostic marker.

The British Fens Finally, we compare figures for past be leveling from the coastal Mid-Atlantic Southern US with those for the English Fens, based on Britain (2002; personal communication), adding a trans-Atlantic perspective to the comparison. The speakers in Britain's study represent three generations, those born around 1900, those born between 1923 and 1945, and those born between 1960 and 1975. These generations are roughly comparable to Gen. I, Gen. n, and Gen. m for the groups we have surveyed in the US. In Figure 6, we give the raw figures and the VARBRUL analysis results from Britain (2002, personal communication). The level of regularization to weren•t in the Fens indicates that this pattern has been quite entrenched for at least a century. The extent of leveling to weren't is above 90 percent for the oldest and the youngest groups of spealcers, with a slight dip in the level of usage for the middle generation. At the same time, Britain (2002: 27) reports the limited incidence ofleveling to were in positive contexts (e.g. It were me) and a change over time. Gen. I shows significant rates of leveling to were (45 percent), whereas Gen. n and Gen. m show very limited (less than 2 percent) use of this regularization pattern. Leveling to was in positive constructions, however, shows a pattern of intensification across the generations, with the middle and younger groups using leveled was in over 60 percent of all potential cases. In effect, leveling to was and leveling to were show a mirror effect, in which were recedes whlle was intensifies across the generations. Speakers appear to be moving toward a symmetrical remorphologization based on polarity, with was associated more strongly with affirmative sentences and weren't with negative sentences. Weren't leveling has been dominant for a long time in the Fens, but the loss of were leveling appears related to the rise of was leveling. The end result, of course, is that the Fens is moving towards a more symmetrical polarity system.

146 Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

100~------------------~--~

!

80

u

:.

-+-leveling to WIIS

60 40

+---=~:;....._---------f ..,.leming --Erlcvelingto wam't to were ""*'" Jewling to weren't

20+----~~------~

o~~~~s=~==~~

Gcn.n

Gen. I

Gcn.m

Generational group

Fipre 6. Evidence &om the EnsJish Fens (from Britain 2002:34, personal communication)

Generation Gen. I

Bom around 1900 Gen.U

Bom 1925-1945 Gen.UI

Bom 1960-1975

Lewledto MISII't

Leveled to were

Leveled to

WtiS

40/132 30.3% 344/490 70.2% 172/266 64.7%

1/16 6.3% 5/64 7.8% 1/24 4.2%

199/439 45.3% 23/1653 1.4%

55/57 96.5% 149/181 82.3% 88/92 95.7%

Leveled to

sn90 0.6%

W~Nft"t

VARBRUL RESUil'S Generation/Polarity

Leveled to WIU/n"t Input prob.

Generation Gen.. I

Gen. II Gen.m

.22 .58 .51

=.55

Leveled to wndn't Input prob.

=.06

.96 .35 .40

Polarity Positive

.58

.38

Negative

.06

.99

Explaining weren't intensification

What do these different situations indicate about language change for leveled weren't in particular and about the process of language change with respect to

Parallel development and alternatiw: restructuring 147

minority language patterns in general? First of all, the evidence suggests that the cross-generational progression of leveling to weren't in the Mid-Atlantic coastal US communities resulted from an independent, parallel development rather than from diffusion. While diffusion may have played a role in the spread ofleveled wert and weren't along the Mid-Atlantic seaboard to begin with, the acceleration ofleveling to weren't in the respective communities during the past century has been largely independent. There is no evidence for at least the past half-century of any sort of significant contact between these communities, or between these communities and a connected set of islands stretching from the Outer Banks to the Chesapeake Bay. Yet the four communities that we have examined in this region show a comparable pattern of intensification in leveling to weren't. This pattern is even more impressive when we consider the overall state of the traditional dialects in the respective communities, which range from dramatic recession to significant escalation. The comparison clearly supports the conclusion that minority regularization patterns are quite capable of sustaining themselves and accelerating of their own accord, just as are dominant regularization patterns. At the same time, the limited documentation ofleveling to weren't among varieties of English around the world suggests that there may be some special conditions on minority pattern escalation that are not present for majority patterns. As mentioned earlier, despite the expansive spread of English as a world language and the widespread distribution of transplant varieties, the productive use of leveled weren't appears relatively limited, and has been documented only in various dialects of England (Orton et al. 1965-1971; Cheshire 1982; Trudgill1990a; Britain 2002) and in a very restricted region of the coastal Mid-Atlantic US. This confinement contrasts with the pervasive distribution of leveled was in varieties of vernacular English throughout the world We suggest that historical circumstance, linguistic naturalness, and sociolinguistic situation are implicated in the special conditions that give rise to minority pattern acceleration. Historical sources suggest that the Mid-Atlantic region has evidenced fluctuation between regularization to were/weren't, the minority pattern for past tense be, and regularization to was/wasn't, the majority pattern, for some timeat least a couple of centuries that we can document (Schilling-Estes & Wolfram 1994; Wolfram & Thomas 2002). The minority pattern most likely came from a founder dialect (Mufwene 1996, 2001) or arose slightly later, in the formative development of a Mid-Atlantic coastal dialect in the US. The pattern probably then persisted in an embryonic state for generations. At some point, a structural remorphologization was initiated on the basis of negative polarity, so that the were stem became associated with negativity. This change renders

1.48 Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

negativity quite transparent, allowing for the unique marking of weren't as the negative form of past be. This incipient remorphologization served as the impetus for a self-perpetuating change that could then proceed independently in disconnected communities. It should also be noted that weren't as a negative past tense maker can apparently exist quite apart from the symmetrical restructuring of was as the positive variant. In all of the Southeastern US communities we examined, leveling to was was declining at the same time that leveling to weren't was intensifying. Although this situation is different from that found in the British Fens (Britain 2002), where the association of weren't with negativity is now coupled with the association of was with positive contexts, it suggests that symmetry in the remorphologization of both was and were stems is not a condition for the independent development of leveled weren't. We suggested earlier that the decline in leveling to was was probably due to the strength of general prescriptive norms that dictate against was regularization, which is a widespread icon of nonstandard English in many regions throughout the world If prescriptive norms had not been so imposing, perhaps the pattern of symmetrical remorphologization in the US might have been more similar to the found in the Fens. 1 However, given the US data, it is apparent that leveling to weren't can indeed evolve of its own accord At the same time, we know of no situations in English varieties where leveling to was (or to were) is uniquely associated with positive constructions without the weren't leveling negative counterpart taking place. This observation suggests that a principle dictating the reduction of allomorphy may serve as a partial explanation for leveling to weren't (e.g. Mittelstaedt & Parrott 2002) but it is not a sufficient condition. We must also invoke negativity in order to fully account for the primacy oflevelingto weren't. In addition to the linguistic conditions, the comparison suggests that a special set of social circumstances are necessary to ensure the survival and spread of leveling to weren't, at least in transplant dialect situations. All of the US communities examined in this study are peripheral to larger, more mainstream communities. 2 In peripheral communities, such factors as dense social network structures, lack of interference from outside varieties (including standard varieties), and a strong sense of community distinctiveness allow for the innovation and expansion of non-majority language forms (Schilling-Estes 2002; Trudgill 2002c; Andersen 1988). Data from the Linguistic Atlas of the Unites States and Canada (Atwood 1953) suggest that leveling to were and weren't historically were more widespread in the US than today and could be found in locations in the Appalachian Mountains ofWest Virginia, West Vuginia, and North Carolina (Brandes & Brewer 1977), as well as along with the Mid-Atlantic coast.

Parallel development and altemati"Ve restructurins

However, in these highland areas it did not develop into a productive form and sustain itself as it did along the Mid-Atlantic mast. Whereas Atwood ( 1953: Fig. 24) documented some examples of leveling to weren't among speaken from Southeastern West Vuginia hom in the mid 1800s, Wolfram and Ouistian's (1976) sampling of almost 150 speaken in that region in the mid 1970s did not document its use. The peculiar conditions of peripherality found in island and coastal enclave communities thus appear to be a factor that helps account for the perpetuation and accentuation of weren't leveling. However, peripherality is not a sufficient condition for intensification since the Appalachian communities where leveling to were once existed were peripheral as well The situation in Hyde County indicates that symbolic social role also may be a factor in the maintenance of regularization to wtren't, since dramatic divergence in the path of change is observed for African American and European American speaken in the same region over time. As noted previously, the last half-century has seen a dramatic shift in the status of leveling to weren't for African Americans and European Americans. Although both ethnic groups once shared this feature, younger European Americans have intensified its use while younger African Americans have abandoned it in a movement away from a local Pamlico Sound dialect norm. This does not mean, however, that the social marking of leveled weren't is overtly marked. In fact, in the mmmunities we have studied, we have found little overt discussion of this form. Residents of Outer Banks islands and Smith Island are much more interested in talking about symbolic phonological features such as the backing of the nucleus of/ail on the Outer Banks (Wolfram & Schilling-Estes 1995) and the fronting of the glide of /au/ in Smith Island (Schilling-Estes & Wolfram 1999) than they are in past tense be regularization. Nonetheless, its intensification takes place in the face of competing nonns from outside varieties - or, in some cases, from nonns of different social or ethnic groups within a given dialect area- strongly suggesting symbolic value as a marker of in-group identity. In fact, it may be that its relative lack of salience as a symbolic marker is one of the facton that reinforces its independent development. Thus, leveling to weren't may intensify while leveling to was, an iron of prescriptivism, declines. Our comparative survey indicates that the parallel intensification of minority regularization alternatives in disconnected communities seems to be dependent on the longstanding existence of the alternative pattern, even in incipient or embryonic form (Ttudgill1999); the naturalness of certain kinds of language changes; and the ability of non-mainstream, peripheral communities to sustain unusual linguistic developments that may overtly or covertly mark symbolic identity of various types. Though we do not discount other possi-

149

ISO

Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

ble circumstances that might give rise to the maintenance of leveled weren't, we are struck by the fact that this alternative past tense be variant remains as an unusual yet robust pattern in just a few English-speaking communities throughout the world, and even fewer outside of the British Isles.

Notes "' Research reported here was supported by National Science Foundation Grants SBR 9319577, SBR 9616331, and BCS 9910224, as well as the William C. Friday Endowment at

North Carolina State UllMrsity. Research on Smith Island was partially financed with State Funds from the Maryland Historicallhut, an agency of the Department of Housing and Community Development of the State of Maryland. Hownrer, the contents and opinions do not neassarily reflect the views or policies of the Maryland Historical Trust or the Department of Housing and Community Development. Thanks to Becky Childs, Elaine Wesley Green, Kirk Hazen, Jennifer Mittelstaedt, Anna Murphy. Jeftiey Parrott, Rebecca Setliff, and Benjamin Torbert for their assistance in various phases of the research reported here. Special thanks to David Britain for providing the data on the Fens and especially for reconfiguring some of his data so that it would be more comparable to the analysis presented here. He and Jenny Cheshire also provided helpful insight for revising the original manuscript. 1. Since there are no cases of leveling to w~ for positive constructions, polarity is a "knocltout" constraint in the VARBRUL analysis. 2. The appeal to presc:riptivism as the basis fur the recession of levelins to was does not, of course, apply to the situation in the British Fens, where leveling to was is intensifying. Although we might assume that the prescriptive focus on leveling to was is widespread throughout the English-speaking world, the English Fens case sugests that some linguistic pressures may overcome prescriptive norms - or that prescriptivism with respect to was leveling is simply not as strong in this region as it is in the US. Britain (personal communication) reports that "little prescriptive tendency ... affects past BE in the Fens." He notes further that Hren't leveling is not a particularly salient feature in the British Fens, which matches our observation with respect to the Mid-Atlantic Coastal US. Britain (personal communication) notes that in the Fens /ail is the dialect feature that speakers focus on in terms of their dialect, as is also the case in Ocracoke (Schilling-Estes 1998). Whereas weren't leveling is restricted to isolated communities in the United States, this does not appear to be the case in England (Cheshire 1982). Britain (personal communication) reports that it is commonly heard in areas surrounding London.

,3.

References Andersen, H. (1988). Center and periphery: Adoption, diffusion, and spread. In J. Fisiak (Ed.), Historical Dialectology (pp. 3~3). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.

Parallel development and alternatiw: restructuring

of Verb Forms in the .F..askrn United States. Ann Arbor: Uniw:nity of Michigan Press. Bailey, G., Wikle, T., Tillery, J., & Sand, L (1991). The apparent time construct. Language Variation and Change, 3, 241-264. Brandes, P. D. & Brewer, J. (1977). Dialect Clash in America: Issues and Answers. Metuchen, NJ: ScarKrow. Britain, D. (2002). Diffusion, levelling. simplification and reallocation in past tense BE in the English Fens. Journal of Sociolinguistics, 6, 16-43. Britain, D. Personal e-mail communication, November 25, 2002. Chambers, J. K. (1995). Sociolinguistic Theory. Malden/Oxford: Blaclcwell. Cheek, A (1995). Harkers Island{:)/ and the Southern Norm: A Microcosm of Languages in Contact. M.A. thesis, Raleigh: North Carolina State University. Cheshire, J. (1982). Variation in an English Dialect. Cambridge: Cambridge Uniw:nity Press. Cheshire, J. (F.d.). (1991). English around the World: Sociolinguistic Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Green, L J. (2002). African American English: A Linguistic Introduction. Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press. Hazen, K. ( 1996). Dialect affinity and subject-w:rb concord. SECOL Review, 19, 2S-S3. Hazen, K. (2000 ). Subject-verb concord in a post-insular dialect: The gradual penistence of dialect patterning. Journal of English Linguistics, 28, 127-144.. Holm, J. (1988). Pidgins and Cnoles: Volume 1, Theory and Structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Holm, J. (1989). Pidgins and Creoles: ~lume 2, Refomra Survey. Cambridge: Cambridge Uniw:rsity Press. Labov, W. (1963). The social motivation of a sound change. Word. 19,273-307. Labov, W. (1994). Principles ofLinguistit Change: Internal factors. Malden/Oxford: Blackwell. Labov, W., Cohen, P., Robins, C., & Lewis, J. (1968). A Study uf the Non-Standard English ofNegro and Puerto Rican spetJicm in New York Oty. United States Office of Education Final Report, Research Project 3288. Mittelstaedt, J. & Parrott, J. (2002). A distributed morphology account of weren't leveling. Paper presented at NWAV 31, Palo Alto, Stanford University, October. Mufwene, S. S. (1996). The founder principle in aeole genesis. Dillchronica. 12, 83-134. Mufwene, S. S. (2001 ). 11te Ecology oflAnguage Evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Murphy, A (2000). Past tense be regularization in Harken Island Unpublished paper. Raleigh, NJ: North Carolina State Univenity. Orton, H., HallidayW. J., Barry. M. V., Talling,P. M., &Wakelin, M. F. (Eds.). (1962-1971). Survey ofEnglish Dialects: The Basic Materillls. Leeds, UIC: Edward Arnold Rickford, J. R. (1999). Afriam American Vernacular English: Felltures, Evolution and Eduaztionallmplialtions. Malden/Oxford: BlackweR. Schilling-Estes. N. (1997). Accommodation vs. concentration: dialect death in two postinsular island communities. American Speech, 72. 12-32. Schilling-Estes, N. (1998).1nw:stigating •self-conscious' speech: the performance register in Oaacoke English. lAnguage in Society, 27, 53-83.

Atwood, E. B. (1953 ). A Survey

1.51

1~

Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes

Schilling· Estes, N. (2000). Exploring morphological change: the was/wemr't pattern in Smith Island English. Paper presented at NWAV 29, East Lansing, Michigan State University, October. Schilling-Estes, N. (2002). On the nature of isolated and post·isolated dialects: Innovation, variation and differentiation. Journal of Sociolinguistics, 6, 164-185. Schilling-Estes, N. & Wolfram. W. (1994). Conversmt explanation and alternative regu· larization patterns: were/weren't leveling in a vernacular English variety. Language Var· iation and Change, 6, 273-302. Schilling-Estes, N. & Wolfram, W. (1999). Alternative models of dialect death: dissipation and ooncentration.IAnguage, 75, 486-521. Schneider, E. W. (Ed.). (forthooming). Handbook of English Varieties of the World: The Americas/Caribbean. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Schreier, D. (2002). Past be in nistan da Cunha: the rise and fall of categoricality in language change. Ammam Speech. 77, 7~99. Schreier, D. (2003). Isolation and lAnguage Change: Sociohistoriad and Contempomry Evidena from Ilistan da Cunha English. Basingstoke: Palgrave/Macmillan. Shores, D. L (2000). Tangier Island: Place, People, and Tallc. Newark, DE: University of Delaware Press. Tagliamonte, S. & Smith, J. (1999). Old was, new ecology: viewing English through the sociolinguistic filter. InS. Poplack (Ed.), The English History ofAfrican American English (pp. 141-161). Malden/Oxford: Blackwell. Trudgill. P. (1999). New dialect formation and drift: the making ofNew Zealand English. Paper presented at the lOth International Conference on Methodology. St. Johns, Memorial University of Newfoundland, August. Weldon, T. (1994). Variability in negation in African American Vernacular English. lAnguage Variation and Change, 6, 359-397. Wolfram. W. (1969). A Linguistic Description of Detroit Negro Speech. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics. Wolfram. W., Cheek. A.. & Hammond, H. (1996). Competing norms and selective assimilation. In J. Arnold. R. Blake, B. Davidson, S. Schwenter, & J. Solomon (Eds.), Sociolinguistic Variation: Data, Theory, and Analysis (pp. 41-68). Stanford, CA: CSU. Wolfram. W. & Ouistian, D. (1976). ApJNdachian Speech. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics. Wolfram. W. & Fasold, R. W. (1974). The Study of Social Dialects in the United States. Englewood Cliffs: Pmttice HaD. Wolfram. W. & Schilling·Estes, N. ( 1995). Moribund dialects and the endangerment canon: the case of the Ocraooke brogue. Lllnguage. 71, 696-721. Wolfram, W. & Scbilling-Estes. N. (1998). American English: Dialects and Variation. Maldeo!Oxford.: BlackweJI. Wolfram, W. & Sellers, J. (1999). Ethnolinguistic marking of past be in Lumbee Vernacular English. Journal ofEnglish Linguistics. 27,94-114. Wolfram. W. & Thomas, E. R. (2002). The Development of African American English. Malden/Oxford: Blackwell.

Parallel development and alternatiw: restructuring Wol&am, W., Hazen, K., & Schilling-Estes, N. (1999). Dialect Change and Maintenance on the Outer Banks. Publication of the American Dialect Society 80. Thscaloosa, AL: Uniw:rsity of Alabama Press. Wol&am, W., Thomas, E. R., & G1m1, E. W. (2000). The Jqional context of earlier African American speech: reconstructing the development of African American Vernacular English. Language in Society, 29,1~55.

I»

Social and linguistic dimensions of phonological change Fitting the pieces of the puzzle together* Lesley Milroy Univenity of Michigan

Introduction Since the appearance of Weinreich, Labov and Herzog's classic article in 1968, sociolinguists have worked intensively on language variation and change within several different frameworks. Particularly, •internal• and "social" influences on change have traditionally been sharply distinguished. In this chapter, I try to align insights from dift'erent frameworks to produce what I hope is a coherent and illuminating (although of course by no means complete) picture of processes of phonological change, with particular reference to three quite different speech communities; the island of Martha's Vineyard, the town of Corby, Northamptonshire, and inner-city Detroit, Michigan. I look initially at the orientation of what might now be described as "classic" variationist theory before reviewing (selectively) the dialect contact penpective on change fint introduced to the sociolinguistics community by Peter Trudgill (1986a). Much research of this type addresses the effects on linguistic variation and change of mobility and migration, and its orientation and findings are consistent with my own work on the relationship between personal social network structure and trajectories of language change. I then consider the framework provided by recent anthropological work on language ideologies, which is helpful in conceptualizing socially motivated change. Finally. I attempt to sketch out the essentials of a larger picture as I pull these strands together. Particularly, I argue for a major conceptual distinction between local, ideologically motivated

change and global, ideology-free types of change. This distinction cuts across the traditional dichotomy between internally and socially motivated change.

The "classic" variationist model In Labov's early work on socially motivated change ( 1972: 39-40), he noted the need for a clear account of the intersection of social and linguistic structures, and was critical of current theories of change for assuming "an ineluctable process of drift, (1972:23). He suggested that shifting frequencies of use with respect to particular phonological variables interrupted or redirected this process, given social motivations of the kind he documented in Martha's Vineyard. More recently, he has focused consecutively on internal and social factors constraining phonological change (1994, 2001) and while he attempts at various points to examine interfaces, for the most part social and internal trajectories are discussed separately. Internally motivated changes are generally understood to be explicable in terms either of human speech production or perception or of intrasystemic constraints on possible changes and therefore to be widely distributed across the worlds' languages (see Campbell1999:Ch. 11). For example, C.-J. Bailey's notion of connatural change (i.e. internally as opposed to socially motivated) adopts the first kind of explanation, assuming neurobiological rather than phonological constraints ( 1996: 369). Ohala ( 1993) emphasises the role of perceptual mismatches, proposing that misperceptions of the speech signal by the listener result in a change in phonetic target; if this target is phonologized, sound change results (see also Beddor & Krakow 1998). Using a more overtly teleological kind of reasoning, Lindblom (1986, 1990} argues that vowel systems evolve to maximize perceptual distance between units in the system, and that natural phonetic processes underlie many regularities in vowel systems. Although Labov alludes to such universal articulatory or perceptual constraints (1994:22G-221), he attributes internally motivated change primarily to the symmetry-preserving pressure of the system. Vowel changes are seen as constrained by a limited set of language-internal principles, replacing his earlier, more atomistic analyses of individual phonological variables. The chain shift notion is central to Labov's analysis, the fundamental principle being that movement of one vowel in the system triggers a series of further changes, as adjacent vowels move sequentially to fill emerging gaps. A series of principles derived from a survey of a large number of documented chain-shifts is said to constrain possible changes; for example, long vowels are said to rise,

Social and linpistic dimensions of pbonolop:al change 157

short vowels to fall, and back vowels move to the front (Labov 1994: 115-154). This strand of Labov's work has drawn aiticism from historical linguists, particularly Lass (1997:34ff.) and Stockwell and Minkova (1997, 1999), chiefly because the chain shift formulation carries with it unacknowledged implications of causality. Also problematic is the applicability of the chain shift concept to work in contemporary speech communites (see further Gordon 2001; Watt2000). These reservations do not invalidate Labov's principles of vowel change, since empirical research can confirm whether long vowels do indeed rise and short vowels fall, or back vowels move to the front, and it is certainly clear that such principles capture frequently recurring types of change. For example, 'Iiudgill et al. (2000b) appeal to internal principles to account for a set of changes associated particularly with Southern Hemisphere Englishes, Southern British English and the Southern dialed of the United States which are desaibed by WeDs (1982) as "diphthong shift~ The term refers to ongoing developments whereby the first elements of the rising diphthongs associated with the Great Vowel Shift {li: u:, ei, ou, ai, au/) continue to move in an apparently co-ordinated fashion. Although these changes cannot be accounted for within an overarching theory, some can be accommodated by universal principles of the kind posited by Labov, and all appear to be attributable to properties of the language rather than to dialed contact or any other detectable social factor. Although Labov discusses the same set of changes as a subsystem of the Southern Shift (1994:217), 'lhldgill et al. do not frame their discussion in chain shift terms. Rather, they appeal to Sapir's concept of"drift" to account for long term patterns of change in these historically related dialects (see also Wolfram & Thomas 2002:43 ). Thus, the proposed generality of principles governing internally motivated change is independent of the contentious issues surrounding chain shifting mechanisms. Although Labov has set out his approach to social fadon in his 2001 volume, much of his influential recent work has focussed on internally motivated change. Variationist research on socially motivated change is rather heterogeneous, and cannot readily be summarized here. Chamben {1995) reviews a large and varied literatwe which suggests that an important underlying dynamic is the adoption in a particular social context of a novel variant by one or another social group to index affiliation or disaffiliation with othen. Increasingly influential are quite different kinds of recent work, such as the social practice model developed by Eckert (2000), which queries manyvariationist assumptions, Johnstone's work on place as a cultural rather than a physi-

cal concept (1999) and Preston"s (1999) investigations of language attitudes. I elaborate selectively on social factors in the following two sections.

Dialect contact &ameworks Labov points out explicitly that his work excludes oontact-related change (2001: 20). Yet, the assumption of an idealized, autonomous speech community free from the complicating effects of contact has been problematic, and it is probably unrealistic to treat speech communities as isolated &om the effects of others. Consider for example Horvath"s (1998) account ofthe influence of immigrant speakers on trajectories of phonological change in the Sydney speech community. Chambers (2002) and L Milroy (2002) elaborate on the pervasiveness, both currently and historically, of contact-related changes in speech communities. 1i"Ud.gill ( 1986a) and, more recently, Kerswill (2002) present a range ofconcepts which address contact-related change, such as levelling. simplification, diffusion, focussing, reallocation. All of these are associated with koin~iza­ tion - the process by which speakers of dialects in contact create a new variety (Kerswill & Williams 2000). Britain (2002) has shown their relevance to an account of morphological change in the English Fens, and a major theme of Penny's (2000) sociolinguistically sensitive history of Spanish is the effect of levelling and simplification, resulting from repeated dialect mixing. In the remainder of this section I focus on the relationship between the effects of levelling and simplification processes and changes in social network structure. Dialect levelling involves the eradication of socially or locally marked variants (both within and between linguistic systems) in conditions of social or geographical mobility and resultant dialect contact. This process might reasonably be viewed as a linguistic reflex of the large scale disruption of doseknit, localized networks which have historically maintained highly systematic and complex sets of socially structured linguistic norms. Such disruption arises from (for example) internal and transnational migration, war, industrialization and urbanization. While these dynamics have operated on a massive scale in colonial and post-colonial societies (see Trudgill et al. 2000e), they continue to affect geographically or socially mobile populations. In general, levelling gives rise to greater linguistic homogeneity and to a tendency for localized norms of the kind supported by a dose-knit network structure to disappear. 1i"Udgill (1999a:80) describes the effects of this process in England, where varieties associated with major conurbations have spread outwards into the sur-

Social and linpistic dimensions of pbonolop:al change 159

rounding territory at the expense of distinctive localized norms. Kerswill and Williams (1999) and Britain (1997, 2002) describe the effects oflevelling on local distinctiveness in several locations. Let us now look at the example of the Belfast speech community, where changes in the urban dialect show the related effects of levelling processes and social network structure. During the 1970s, in the stable, close-knit inner-city working-class communities of Ballymacarrett, Oonard and Hammer the complex /a/ system (as in bag, bad, bat, grass etc.) was realized by at least six clearly distinguishable allophones, which can be minimally characterised as [e ae a I a 3]. These allophones were systematically distributed in accordance with both social and structural constraints, as reported by L. Milroy ( 1987a). However, more mobile speaken resident in the suburbs had contracted a wider range of weaker ties across broader social and geographical territories. Such speakers sharply contract the allophonic range and overwhehningly realize /a/ class items with the allophones [a 1], avoiding back or &ont-raised variants which strongly index working-class identity in the city. J. Milroy (1982) desaibed this phenomenon as 'normalization' as distinct &om standardization, to stress that it does not display an orientation to any specifiable 'prestige' target. With the benefit of the discussion in Tru.dgill (1986a), we can treat this pattern of allophonic reduction as a clear instance oflevelling (obliteration of socially marked variants) which results also in a simplification of the complex /a/ system. Comparable patterns emerged also &om work in the city of Newcastleupon-Tyne, as reported by Watt and Milroy (1999) and Watt (2002). Here, following an increase in geographical and social mobility, changes appear to be underway which result in higher status speaken, younger speakers and women converging on the sociolinguistically unmarked monophthongal variants [o1 and [e1 in words of the HOME and GATE classes, while men use localized variants very much more frequently and also use a wider range of variants - [m, oo1 and [~, eo)1 in the case of the HOME and GATE classes respectively. As in the case of Belfast /a/, this pattern does not represent a move to the Received Pronunciation-influenced variants [ou1 and [e11, which make only a marginal appearance in the data. Rather, it exemplifies once again the effects of dialect levelling, where variability is reduced at the expense of locally marked variants in situations of speaker mobility and resultant dialect contact. In this case the contact takes place between speaken of different local dialects as well as those &om outside the region who move into the city. In a more general account of the relationship between dialect typology and community structure, 1htdgiU (1996c, 2002d) associates dose-knit networks particularly with low contact situations and loose-knit networks with high contact situations.

In both Newcastle and Belfast, levelling operates like other kinds of change in a socially orderly fashion, women and higher status speakers being more prominent users of the levelled variety. However, the association of levelling and simplification processes with the disruption of locally based dose-knit social networks raises psycholinguistic as well as sociolinguistic issues which are relevant to any attempt to develop an integrated picture of change. The longterm maintenance of often stigmatized, local norms in the face of pressures from numerically or socially more powerful speech communities is commonly treated as an ideologically motivated desire to preserve distinctiveness. Yet, expanding supralocal varieties of the kind discussed by 'Iiudgill (1999a) seem often to engulf minority dialects, apparently contrary to the desires of their speakers (see Wolfram, Hazan, & Schilling-Estes 1999 for a discussion of this issue in an American context). Relevant to the question of why such distinctive varieties sometimes do not survive is Payne's (1980) demonstration of the social conditions needed for children to learn the highly localized phonolexical complexities of the Philadelphia system; particularly, their parents needed to be locally hom for such learning to take place. What this seems to suggest is that if a close-knit community network structure loosens and members become mobile, levelling and simplification processes operate as the social and cognitive prerequisites for supporting highly localized norms disappear. These norms are allophonically and phonolexically complex. Social class may be implicated here, as middle-class networlcs are characteristically relatively looseknit (Milroy & Milroy 1992).1 Indeed, analysis of the variety spoken in the Belfast suburban communities of Braniel and Andersonstown where networlcs are relatively loose-knit shows not only that extreme socially marked allophones of several vowels have been obliterated, but that those which remain in the system are less regularly conditioned by phonological context than in the working-class communities (L Milroy 1987b: 127-128). Thus, although dose-knit networlcs may be viewed as the social mechanisms which support the construction, maintenance and elaboration of local linguistic distinctiveness, from the point of view of the language Ieamer they provide the intensive input required to master complex, localized linguistic structures. More generallearnability issues are also implicated here. From a study of the acquisition of southern British English by several young Canadians aged between 9 and 17, Chambers (1992) derives an ordered set of principles governing second dialect acquisition. He demonstrates, for example, "across the board" phonological correpondences such as the alveolar variants of It/ corresponding in Southern British English to flapped variants of It/ in Canadian English (city. water) are relatively accessible. However, young Canadian speak-

Social and linguistic dimensions of phonological change uSI

ers who merge items of the cot/caught lexical classes find it difficult to reconstitute the two separate classes, a phonological restructuring task which seems to be impossible for the older children. Kerswill and Williams (2000: 67) also present evidence that older children and post-adolescents do not acquire structurally complex features like the conditioned allophones of laP in Belfdst or /eel in Philadelphia, and so play an important role in simplification and levelling processes. I shall return later to two issues which have emerged in this section. The first is the widespread and rather predictable outcome of levelling processes. This distinguishes them from other changes, also described as social, which are, however, tied to local norms and local social structures. The second issue concerns the effect of social network structure on the trajectories of linguistic changes, which are explicable with reference not only to local social structure, but also to global psycholinguistic constraints. This interrelationship between social and psycholinguistic influences renders problematic a straightforward distinction between "internal'" and '"external'" determinants of linguistic change.

Language ideology Particularly relevant to the analysis of linguistic change developed in this chapter is a body of work concerning the nature and sociocultural role of language ideologies (see Kroskrity 2000). Silverstein (1979: 193) defined language ideologies as "sets of beliefs about language articulated by users as a rationalization or justification of perceived language structure or use~ These morally, socially and politically loaded cultural conceptions of language and of its intersection with social life play an important role in delimiting and defining salient social groups and indeed whole nations (L. Milroy 2000; Woolard 2002; Blommaert & Verschueren 1998). They correspond to D'Andrade's concept of a cultural model (Niedzielski & Preston 1999; D'Andrade 1987), and typically are historically deep-rooted and thoroughly naturalized. Language ideologies may be viewed as a system for making sense of the indexicality inherent in language, given that languages and language forms index speakers' social identities f.Urly reliably in communities. However, since this sense-making activity is socially positioned, they emerge from specific local, political, economic and social circumstance. Typically, social actors associate a linguistic form or variety (accurately or otherwise) with some meaningful social group. Although social class, gender and ethnicity are the time-honored

global categories favoured by sociolinguists when they examine the social distribution of linguistic forms, the relevant categories (which may or may not map on to these three) are locally constructed and their social meaning locally determined (see Eckert 2000). Local ideologies are manifested in a number of other ways, most obviously as reactions and attitudes to the linguistic varieties or forms imagined as characteristic of socially salient groups. However, the approach I outline here does not treat ideologies simply as manifestations of hegemonic practices, or of misconceived ideas embraced by the prejudiced and linguistically naive (cf. Ronkin & Kam 1999; Lippi-Green 1997). Rather, since they embody speakers' basic understanding of sociolinguistic structure as well as affective responses (Irvine 2001: 24), they are treated as a salient part of the sociolinguistic landscape. Evidence of the structure of local ideologies may be located in many places such as in the oppositions set up by metapragmatic comment or in the orientation of linguistic scholarship and linguistic controversies (Woolard 2002). Crucially, it may be inferred &om variable patterns of use; style shifting and hypercorrection display particularly dearly a speaker's orientation to the social meaning of particular linguistic forms. Ideologies change as particular groups shift in and out of salience in the sociolinguistic landscape at different times and places, and to the extent that changing ideologies are manifested in changing language use, ideology can be said to shape the direction of linguistic change. To show how such an analysis might work, Irvine and Gal (2000:47) discuss high levels of centralization in the first elements ofthe diphthongs /ay/ and /awl reported by Labov in Martha's Vmeyard in terms of the content of the ideology which gives rise to them. Thus, distinctions between ethnic groups in the island (Yankees, Portuguese, Indians) were important in the 1930s but receded into the background as an opposition between islanders and mainlanders became salient thirty years later in response to changing economic pressures. This social change structures the trajectory of change in /ay/ and /awl, since centralized variants of these phonological elements are associated particularly with island versus mainland affiliation, while distinctions between ethnic groups are no longer ideologized: "The sudden increase in centralization began among the Chilmark fishermen, the most close-knit group on the island, the most independent, the group which is most stubbornly opposed to the incursions of the summer visitors" (Labov 1972:37). The resulting divergence between variants which index mainlander versus islander affiliation is ideologically mediated in the sense that it depends upon "'local images of salient social categories that shifted over time" (Irvine & Gal2000: 47).

Social and linguistic dimensions of phonological change 163

Forty years after Labov's landmark study, Blake and Josey (2003) report the results of a real-time study of /ay/ variants on the island. Adopting the analytic framework described above, they note that social conditions on the island have changed in several ways. First, the island economy has diversified considerably, so that average incomes are now higher than forty years ago and unemployment rates lower. Second, the marked distinction between incomers as "others" and islanders as "locals" has virtually disappeared. Third, as a result of a movement towards a less localized economy and the development of service industries, the fishermen constitute a less distinctive community. The localized fishing industry has been absorbed into larger conglomerates, and the closeknit networks previously characteristic of the fishing community have been disrupted. Blake and Josey note that while local identity is still a salient social category on the island, it is no longer associated with the Chilmark fishermen. Most Vmeyarders, with the important exception of the native Americans of Gay Head, can be assigned a middle-class status. Change in the social distribution of /ay/ variants appears to emerge from the social restructuring which has obliterated the ideological distinction between Vmeyarder and Mainlander. Blake and Josey note that the trend towards high degrees of centralization among the fishermen reported by Labov has halted; the fishermen's mean index score for /ay/ is not significantly different from that of other social groups, and no speaker or group of speakers emerges as distinctive. The socially motivated pattern of change affecting /ay/ noted by Labov has disappeared, to be replaced by the related linguistically conditioned process known as Canadian Raising, which affects many more communities than Martha's Vmeyard (Chambers 1973; Britain 1997). The overall picture is of a trajectory of change structured by changing social patterns, as different groups move in and out of saliency. Blake and Josey offer (but do not pursue) the suggestion that the ideological oppositions which operate on the island may once again shift to a local distinction between Gay Head native Americans and other Vineyarders. In the remainder of this section, I review work by Dyer (2000, 2002) and by Anderson (2002), Anderson and Milroy (1999) and Anderson, Nguyen, and Milroy (2002), which similarly suggests ways in which changing local ideologies shape trajectories of linguistic change. Dyer (2000, 2002) examines patterns of change across three generations of adults in the dialect of Corby, Northamptonshire in the English Southeast Midlands. Until the early 1930, Corby was a small rural village whose inhabitants spoke the dialect of the surrounding countryside. However, following the establishment of substantial steel works, heavy immigration began from

164 Lesley Milroy

Scotland in 1933, reaching a peak in 1971. Dyer reports extensive levelling in this contact situation, which involves speakers of quite distinctively different dialect types. Nevertheless, a small number of Scots features occur variably in the speech even of young people, particularly men, who were hom in Corby. The relevant features are relatively monophthongized variants in vowels of the GOAT class, and a merger of long and short high back vowels in the GOOD and POOD classes. The accent of contemporary Corby is perceived by locals and outsiden alike as sounding somewhat Scottish, and Dyer initially planned to use a conventional variationist analysis to account for the social distribution of Scots features, hypothesising that such features indexed Scottish ethnicity, perhaps with interacting effects of gender or class. The distribution of the relevant variants did not, however, support such an analysis, since the young men who produced the highest percentages of Scottish features did not self-identify as Scottish but as Corby residents. A search for relevant local categories led to the following interpretation oflocal patterns of social and ideological change. Dyer reports that the first generation of Corby immigrants distinguished sharply between "Scots" and '"English" categories, which were also for the most part reliably indexed linguistically; the third-generation speakers, however, did not. For example, in response to the question "at school are you conscious of who comes from a Scottish family and who doesn't"?, one young man replied "no not really we all speak the same round here" (2002: 111). Dyer presents discoursal evidence of a change in the salient social categories for these young speakers. They display an orientation not to Scots versus English ethnicity, but rather to the Corby town community in opposition to other local places- particularly the neighbouring town of Kettering. A small number of historically Scottish features have thus been reallocated to a new sociolinguistic function, so that as salient social categories shift, these features index a Corby rather than a Scottish identity. Dyer reports that the dialect phonology as a whole has undergone and continues to undergo changes characteristic of the koin~ized dialect of the surrounding southeastern urban area, as described by Kerswill and Wtlliams (2000). I conclude this section with a brief account of a trajectory of change in the African American dialect of urban Detroit which, although initially puzzling, is also illuminated by an ideological analysis. As discussed in detail by Wolfram and Thomas (2002), African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) dialects in the United States generally do not show the effect oflarge scale regional changes such as those described as the Northern Oties Shift and the Southern Shift, which are evident in the dialects of contemporary White communities. In the course of the twentieth century, a set of supralocal norms has emerged which

Social and linguistic dimensions of phonological change 165

distinguishes African American dialects spoken in different parts of the United States quite sharply from regional White varieties. Contemporary AAVE is thus strongly defined along racial lines, a development itself to a great extent ideologically driven, given the pervasive national perception of American society as biracial (Wolfram & Thomas 2002:211 ). In view of this larger national pattern, and of the extreme racial polarization characteristic of Detroit (Sugrue 1996; Farley, Danziger, & Holzer 2000) it is not surprising that Detroit inner-city African American communities do not participate in the set of sound changes which saliently characterise the White varieties spoken in the city and its suburbs (see Eckert 2000; Labov 1994). Unexpectedly, however, AAVE speakers display in the back vowel subsystem evidence of vigorous changes which affect mainly White dialects in the southern United States, particularly in the fronting of /u/ and /u/ (Fridland 1999, 2001 ). This pattern is particularly interesting for two reasons: African Americans in the southern United States are reported to avoid fronted variants of these vowels (Thomas 2001 ), and African American speakers in Detroit recorded by Wolfram in the mid 1960s reveal this expected ethnically marked pattern (Anderson, Nguyen, & Milroy 2002). Anderson and Milroy ( 1999) report that these apparently recent changes are well established in the speech both of southern-born African Americans who migrated to Detroit during the first half of the twentieth century and their Detroit-born descendants. Furthermore, a parallel trajectory of change is evident in the social distribution of variants of the diphthong /u/ in contexts preceding a voiceless obstruent (nice, white) (Anderson 2002). Although the patterning of this ongoing change in the American South is complex (see Wolfram & Thomas 2002: 198-199) Southern African American dialects are reported to maintain dearly diphthongized variants before voiceless obstruents, while in most white Southern dialects glide-weakened variants are found in all contexts. Again, the expected ethnically-indexed Southern pattern of diphthongization is evident in recordings made by Wolfram in the mid-sixties. Relevant to any attempt to interpret these patterns of change in contemporary Detroit is the strong orientation to southern culture displayed in a number of ways by inner-city African American speakers. For example, many wish to return to or purchase property in the South, participating in an accelerating process of remigration {Stack 1996; Frey 2001); characteristically Southern social events like barbecues and pig-pickings are popular (Anderson & Milroy 1999); and the variety ofAAVE spoken in Detroit was often described to Anderson (during interviews carried out in the late 1990s) as Southern. Interestingly, these changes have the effect not only of demarcating Detroit African Americans sharply from their Northern White neighbors; they also align Detroit AAVE speakers with South-

em speakers generally by obliterating a system of variation which indexes the distinction between Black and White speakers in American Southern communities. The Detroit changes can be analysed in a similar way to those in Corby and Martha's Vmeyard; they reflect changes in the social saliency of particular groups, and for African .American Detroiters the distinction between Black and White Southern speakers is no longer salient. On the contrary, relations between African .Americans and White Appalachian migrants to Detroit, who speak a very similar Southern dialect, are cordial (Hartigan 1999; Anderson 2002). The relevant opposition is now with Northern Anglo speakers, and participation in changes affecting /ul, /u/ and /ail indexes both that opposition and an orientation to the American South.

Fitting the pieces together In this final section, I attempt to pull together these varied observations on

internally motivated changes, changes associated with levelling processes and ideologically motivated changes. Crucially, both internally motivated changes and dialect levelling appear to operate globally, in the sense that their effect on a wide range of speech communities is similar and cannot readily be explained with reference to local social structure. Ideologically motivated changes, on the other hand, can be understood only in relation to details of local social structure, as shown by the examples of Martha's Vineyard, Corby, and inner-city Detroit. To capture this distinction between "global" and "local" dimensions of language change, I distinguish what might be descn"bed as "ideology-free" &om "ideologically motivated" change. Ideology-free changes have two major characteristics: they do not appear to be socially mediated in the sense that they cannot readily be mapped on to images of salient local social categories, and they occur independently in speech communities widely separated by space and time. This distinction does not quite correspond to the traditional dichotomy between internal and social factors, since levelling processes are usually treated as social factors but, as noted above, operate globally independently oflocal ideologies. In these final paragraphs I shall try to show that the ideology-free/ideologically motivated distinction illuminates the interaction of different factors involved in change. My fundamental proposal is that local social factors, discussed here in terms of ideologically driven processes rather than as social categories, operate as constraints on global changes. Global changes appear to be driven by different kinds of dynamic, not all of which can readily be charac-

Social and linguistic dimensions of phonological change 167

terized as internally motivated. 3 Crucially, if social boundaries become permeable and ideological systems disrupted as a result of migration or mobility, ideology-free changes will take their course, uninhibited by social barriers; hence (for example) the spread of the Northern Cities Shift and Southem changes in the United States across large territories. When indexical systems re-establish themselves, however, ideologically motivated sociolinguistic restructuring will take place as a reaction to those systems. Thus, in Corby, a contemporary local ideology which constructs the town community as distinctive from the surrounding region also constructs a distinctive local style of speaking. This style utilises a small number of historically Scottish features. While levelling processes have operated on much of the dialect's phonology, ideological factors inhibit its wholesale operation. Hence Dyer's insistence that although the phonology of the Corby dialect has been subject to levelling processes, it is not a levelled dialect (2002: 108-109). In Martha's Vineyard, the ideological system which gave rise to the association of /ay/ raising with the Chilmark fishermen changed when that group was no longer salient. Blake and Josey argue that the changes which subsequently took place on the island result from Canadian Raising, a process which has "independently originated in a number of different dialect areas in North America and elsewhere" (p. 30).4 A parallel account is offered of the Detroit changes; participation by Southern African Americans in the Southern Shift was (and is) inhibited by the salient opposition between Black and White communities there. The relevant social contrast for Detroit African Americans is, however, with Northerners, not with Southern White speakers as in premigration days. Thus, since a linguistically indexed distinction from this latter group is no longer socially relevant, the vowel system follows a trajectory of change in accordance with the general principles described by Labov (1994), uninhibited by the particular set of social constraints relevant to the dialect contact situation in the South. Participation in changes associated with the Southern Shift saliently provides a sharp contrast with Northern White speakers, as does a pattern of Jail glide-reduction (see Eckert 2000: 118). In this chapter, I have sketched out an approach to diverse and intersecting influences on language change which I continue to develop. I am optimistic that this approach is capable of illuminating many more cases than the three exemplified here- one thinks of the emergence of ideologized distinctions between new communities, which give rise to images of (for example) distinctive New Zealand/Australian or American/Canadian accents. In general, I offer this chapter as a step towards developing a framework for investigating patterns

168 Lesley Milroy

of language change which are structured by changes in the saliency of social groups in speech communities.

Notes • Parts of the material in this chapter have been presented over the last three ynrs at linguistics coUoquia at the Universities of Michigan, Stanford and Washington, and at the conference on Language Variation and Change at York University (England). I thank participants for helpful comments, and am particularly grateful to James Milroy, who read and commented on the entire draft. I also thank Jennfer Nguyen for her assistance in preparing the manuscript for publication. t. Howewr, Kerswill and Williams' (1999) investigation of low- and high-mobility speakers of different social statuses suggests that the variables of class and network need to be considered independently. 2.. Predictably, even excellent and convincing mimics of working-class Belfast speech do not display a mastery of these details.

3· Kmcb (1978) presents a theory of change which is similar in certain respects, particularly in characterizing ideology as suppressing •natural" processes of change. However, his discussion is restricted to the effects of standard or high-status varieties, while I would suggest that the effects of ideology are not restricted to speaker orientations to such varieties or to the motivations of elite speakers. Also relevant is Labov's long-standing distinction

between "change from above" and •change from below", which refers simultaneously to levels of social awareness and positions in the socio-economic hierarchy (Labov 1994-: 78). The characterization of"cbange from above" as diffusing from a relatMly high-status group of speakers is problematic, since the social semiotics underlying ideologically motivated change are clearly not thus restricted. 4- 'Ihe page number refers to the authors' manuscript of this article.

References Anderson. B. (2002). Dialect lnding and Jail monophthongization among African American Detroiters. Journal ofSociolinguistics, 6( 1), 86-98. Anderson. B. & Milroy, L. (1999).Southml sound changes and the Detroit AAVEvowelsystem. Paper presented at NWAVE 28, Toronto. Anderson. B., Nguyen, J., & Milroy. L. (2002). Fronting of lui and lui in Detroit African Amniam English: evidence from mll and apparent time. Paper presented at NWAV 31, Stanford University. Bailey, c.- J. (1996). Essays on 'lime-Based Linguistic Arullysis. Oxford: Clarendon.

Social and linguistic dimensions of phonological change 169 Beddor, P. & Krakow, R. (1998). Perceptual confusions and phonological change: How confused is the listener? In B. Bergen, M. PlaucM, & A. Bailey (Eds.), Proceedings of the 1Wenty-Fourth Annual Muting of the Berlceley Linguistics Society: General Session and Parasession on Phonetics and Phonological Universals (pp. 320-335). Berkeley: Berkeley Linguistics Society. Blake, R. & Josey, M. (2003). The /ay/ diphthong in a Martha's Vmeyard community: what can we say 40 years after Labov? Language in Society, 32( 4). Blommaert, J. & Verschuerm, J. (1998). The role of language in European nationalist ideologies. In B. Schieffelin, IC. Woolard. & P. Kroslaity (Eds.), Language Ideologies: Practice and Tlwny (pp. 189-210). New York: Oxford University Press. Britain, D. ( 1997). Dialect contact and phonological reallocation: 'Canadian Raising' in the English Fens.l..atrgu~~ge in Society. 26(1 ), 15-46. Britain, D. (2002). Diffusion, levelling. simplification and reallocation in past tense BE in the English Fens. JoW'Iflll of Sociolinguistics. 6( 1), 16-43. Campbell, L (1999). Historical Linguistics: An Introduction. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Chambers, J.IC. (1973). Canadian raising. Canadian Journal ofLinguistics, 18,113-135. Chambers, J. K. (1992). Dialect acquisition. Language, 68(3), 673-705. Chambers, J. K. (1995). Sociolinguistic Theory. Oxford: Blackwell Chambers, J. K. (2002). Dynamics of dialect convergence. Journal of Sociolinguistics. 6( 1), 117-134.

D'Andrade, R. ( 1987). A folk model of the mind. In D. Holland & N. Quinn (Eds.), Cultural Models in Language and Thought (112-148). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dyer, J. (2000). Language and Identity in a Scottish-English Community: a Phonological and Discoursal Analysis. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Michigan. Dyer,}. {2002). 'We all speak the same round here': dialect levellins in a Scottish-English community. Journal ofSociolinguistics, 6(1), 99-116. Edcert. P. (2000). Linguistic Variation as SociiJI Practice. Oxford: Blackwell. Farley, R., Danziger, S., & Holzer, H. (2000). Detroit Divided. New York: The Russell Sage Foundation. Frey. W. H. (2001). Census 2000 shows large black return to the South, reinforcing the region•s 'Wbite-Blad{ demographic profile. Populations Studies Center report No. 01-473. Institute for Social Research, University of Michigan (obtainable online at www.frey-demographer.org). Fridland, V. (1999). The Southern Shift in Memphis, Tennessee. Language Variation and Chtmge, 11, 267-285. Fridland, V. (2001). The relationship of nt:twork strength and changes in the Southern Vowel Shift in Memphis, TN. Paper presented at NWAV 31, University of North Carolina. Gordon, M. J. (2001). Small-Town Values. Big-Qty Vowels: A Study of the Northern Cities Shift in Michigan (Publication ofthe American Dialect Society 84). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Hartigan, J. Jr. (1999). Racial Situations: Class Prediaunml! of Whitene.ss in Detroit. Princeton, N}: Princeton University Press. Horvath, B. ( 1998). Finding a place in Sydney: migrants and language change. In P. Trudgill & J. Cheshire (Eds.), The Sociolinguistics ReQder Volume 1: Multilitrgulllism and Variation (pp. 90-102). New York: Arnold.

170 Lesley Milroy

Irvine, J, T. (2001). 'Style' as distinctiveness: the rulture and ideology of linguistic differentiation. In P. Eckert & J, Ricld'ord (Eds.), Style and Sociolinguistic Variation (pp. 21-43}. Cambridge: Cambridse University Press. Irvine, J, T. & Gal, S. {2000). Language ideology and linguistic differentiation. In P. Kroskrity (Ed.), Regimes of lAnguage (pp. 35-84). Santa Fe. NM: School of American Research Press. Johnstone. B. (1999). Uses of Southern-sounding speech by contemporary Texas women. journal ofSociolinguistics, 4. 505-522. {Theme issue Styling the other, B. Rampton, Ed.). Kerswill, P. (2002). Koineization and accommodation. In }. K. Chambers, P. 'frudgill. & N. Schilling-Estes (Eds.), HAndbook of lAnguage Variation and Change (pp. 669-702). Oxford: Blackwell. Kerswill, P. & Williams, A. {1999). Mobility versus social class in dialect lewlling: evidence &om new and old towns in England. Cuademos de Filologia lnglesa, 8, 47-57. Departamento de Filologia Inglesa de Ia Universidad de Mwcia. Kerswill, P. & Williams, A. (2000). Creating a new town Ieoine: Children and language change in Milton Keynes. Language in Society, 29( 1), 65-115. Krocb, A. S. (1978). Towards a theory of social dialect variation. Language in Society. 7, 17-36. Kroskrity, P. (Ed.). (2000). Regimes o{Language. Santa Fe, NM: School ofAmerican Research Press. Labov, W. ( 1972). Sociolinguistic Patterns. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania PRss. Labov, W. (1994). Principles of Linguistic Change: Internal Factors. Oxford: Blackwell. Labov, W. (2001). Principles of Linguistic Change: Social Factors. Oxford: Blackwell. Lass, R. ( 1997). H'rstorical Linguistics and Language Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University PRss. Undblom, B. (1986). Phonetic universals in vowel systems. In J. J, Ohala & J, J, Jaeger (Eds.), Experimental Phonology (pp. 13-44). Orlando: Academic Press. Undblom, B. (1990). Explaining phonetic variation: a sketch of the H&H theory. In W. J. Hardcastle & A. Marchal (Eds.}, Speech Production and Speech Modeling (pp. 403-439). Amsterdam: Kluwer. Uppi-Green, R. ( 1997). English with an Accent: lAnguage. Ideology and Discrimination in the Unikd Stlltes. London: Routledge. Milroy, J. (1982). Probing under the tip of the ice-berg: phonological normalization and the shape of speech communities. In S. Romaine {Ed.), Sociolinguistic Variation in Speuh Communities (pp. 35-47). London: Arnold. Milroy, L. (1987a).lAnguage and Social Networks (2nd ed.). Oxford: Blackwell. Milroy, L (1987b). Observing and Analysing Natural lAnguage. Oxford: Blackwell. Milroy, L (2000). 1'wo nations divided by the same language (and different language ideologies}. Journal ofLinguisticAnthropolo~ 9(1), 1-34. Milroy, L (2002). Mobility, contact and language change: Working with contemporary speech communities. Journal ofSociolinguistics, 6(1), 3-15. Milroy, L & Milroy. f. (1992). Social network and social class: towards an integrated sociolinguistic model Language in Society, 21( 1), 1-26. Niedzielski, N. & Preston, D. ( 1999). Folic Linguistics. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.

Social and linguistic dimensions of phonological change 171 Obala, J. (1993). The phonetics of sound change. In C. Jones {Ed.), HistoriCQl Linguistics: Problems and Pmptetim (pp. 237-278). London: Longman. Payne. A. (1980). Factors controlling the acquisition of the Philadelphia dialect by out of state children. In W. Labov (Ed.), Locating Language in 1ime and Space (pp. 143-158). New York: Academic Press. Penny, R. (2000). Variation and Clumge in Spanish. Cambridge: Cambridge Uuiftrsity Press. Ptaton, D. (Ed.). (1999). Handbook ofPtraptrllll DUtlectology (Volume 1). Amstmlam and Philadelphia: Benjamins. Ronkin, M. & Kam, H. E. (1999). Mock Fbonics: Linguistic racism in parodies of Fbonics on the Internet. Journal of Sociolinguistics, 3(3), 360-380. Silverstein, M. (1979). Language structure and linguistic ideology. In P. Oyne, W. Hanks, & C. Hofbauer (Eds.), The Elements: A PtmlSession on Linguistic Units and Levels (pp. 193-247). Chicago:
Stockwdl, R. & Minlcova, D. (1999). Explanations of sound change: Contradictions between dialect data and theories of chain shifting. Leeds Studia in English. New Series Vol XXX, 82-103.

Sugrue. T. (1996). The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Rtla and Inequality in Post- War Detroit. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Thomas, E. R. (2001). An acoustic analysis of vowd variation in New World English. Publication ofthe American Dialect Society. 85. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Watt, D. (2000). Phonetic parallels between the close-mid vowels of'I)'neside English: are they internally or externally motivated? Language Variation and Change, 12( 1), 69-101. Watt, D. (2002). 'I don't speak with a Geordie accent: I speak, like, the Northern accent: Journal ofSociolinguistics. 6(1), 44-63. Watt, D. & Milroy, L. (1999). Patterns of variation and change in three 'I)'neside vowels: Is this dialect lewlling? In P. Foulkes & G. Docherty (Eds.). Urban Voices (pp. 25-46). London: Arnold Weinreich, U., Labov, W., & Herzog, M. (1968). Empirical foundations for a theory of language change. In W. P. Lehmann & Y. Malkiel (Eels.), Directions for historical linguistics (pp. 95-109). Austin: University ofTexas Press. Wells, J. (1982). Acants of English 1: an Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wolfram. W. & Thomas, E. (2002). The Development of African American English. Oxford:

Blackwell. Wolfram. W., Hazan, K., & Schilling-Estes, N. (1999). Di41ect Change and Maintenance ora the Outer Banks. Publication of the American Dialect Society. Tuscaloosa/London: Uniwrsity of Alabama Press. Woolard, K. (2002). Bernardo de Aldrete and the Morisco problem: A study in early modern Spanish language ideology. Society for Comparative Study of Society and Kutory. 4(3 ). 446-480. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan.

Changing mental maps and morphology Divergence caused by international border changes* Mild6s Kontra University of Szeged and Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Budapest

Introduction: Historical background

Eight decades ago, when Austria-Hungary mUapsed at the end ofWorld War I, Hungary lost about two-thirds of her territory and population to the successor states of Czechoslovakia, Romania and Yugoslavia. Millions of ethnic Hungarians became citizens of another country in a similar manner to "members of the Spanish culture,. who "woke up one morning to find themselves citizens of the United States• (Marshall1986:40) when the US annexed New Mexico following the 'Ii'eaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848. Before WWI, the British historian R. W. Seton-Watson (1908/1972:3) called Hungary "the most polyglot state in all Europe~ Ten years later a linguistically rather homogeneous Hungarian state came into being as a result of the partitioning of historical Hungary in the wake of the Treaty of'frianon. Map 1 shows the indigenous ethnic Hungarian population of the Kingdom of Hungary in 1910 and of partitioned Hungary in 1920. Map 2 shows East-Central Europe in 1992, with the Romanian city names Craiova and Ploiqti indicated in southern Romania, and the province of Kosovo in SE Yugoslavia. The two cities and Kosovo are beyond the Carpathian Mountains and have never been part of historical Hungary. At the time of this writing in 2002, Hungarians are a nation in eight countries. Slightly over 10 million Hungarians live in the Hungarian Republic, about 520,000 live in Slovakia, 160,000 in Subcarpathia, Ukraine, over 1.4 million in Romania, about 300,000 in Voivodina, Serbia, and a few thousand each in Eastern Slavonia in Croatia, Slovenia, and Austria.

ttild6s Kontra

50- 100 ~ Hlllt.JPII'ialll 2S 50'~ Hllllprima borders GCibe KiDccJum iD 1!110 ···- bordcn after 1920

-

-

~

I. Ethnic Hungarian population of the Kingdom of Hungary in 1910 and of Nll'titioned Hungary after 1920

As one nation in eight states, Hungarians belong to a cultural nation (as tpposed to a political nation) 1 and display varying degrees of loyalty to the :tates they live in. Many minority Hungarians have lived in several states in heir lifetimes, which can be illustrated by the life story of a Mr. Csulcas, as retOrted by The New York TIDles on 25 January 1993. Born in 1918, Mr. Csuk4s ¥aS a citizen of Austria-Hungary. A few months later he became a citizen of ::zechoslovakia, when Hungary lost substantial territory as a penalty for sidng with Germany in WWI. When the Nazis dismembered Czechoslovakia in l938, they gave a piece to Hungary, and Mr. CsulW became a Hungarian citizen tgain. After WWII, the territory was restored to Czechoslovakia. On 1 January l993, that country broke up, and Mr. CsukU took up his fifth citizenship, this ime as a Slovak. Although he has been a citizen of five different countries, he aas never left the narrow strip ofvillages along what is now the border between iungary and Slovakia.

Otanging mental maps and morphology

UKRAINE

Cluj;Napoc:a

ROMANIA

bp 2. East-Central Europe in 1992

.inguistic consequences (the problem) Vhen it comes to expressing location in a city, town or village, Hungarians ave to choose between the superessive case-ending - Vn or the inessive endlg -bVn. Structural grammars (e.g. Fenyvesi 1998),language cultivators (e.g. bmpa 1980) and empirical linguists (e.g. Bartha 1997) usually agree that the :tajority of city and town names take the surface (superessive) ending, e.g. iudapest-en 'in Budapest" whereas some names denoting Hungarian localities nd all names of foreign ones take the interior (inessive) case, e.g. Tihany-ban n Ttbany" and Boston-ban 'in Boston~ The superessive ending marks a surface iililtionship (X is on Y) and the inessive marks an interior relationship (X is 1 Y), hence the convenient abbreviations introduced by Fenyvesi ( 1995/1996) rill be used: the choice is between on-cases and in-cases.2 The role of the semantic feature 'foreign" in suffix choice can be illustrated y such pairs as Velencl-n 'in Velence (a village in Hungary)' vs. Velencl-ben 'in elence (=Venice, Italy)' and Pks-en 'in Pees (a city in Hungary)' vs. Bees-ben

176 Mild6s Kontra

'in Bees (=Vienna)~ The Hungarian vs. foreign distinction is often interpreted as "part ofhistorical (i.e. pre-1918) Hungary" vs. "outside historical Hungary~ The distinction is also expressed in the dichotomy "home., vs. "abroad•. Hungarian linguists generally agree that the patterns ofvariation in the use of suffixes with place-names are so complex as to defy any attempts at neat generalizations. For instance, phonological criteria are usual1 y invoked to explain why a sizable minority of Hungarian place-names take the in-cases, e.g. Trhanyban, Debrecenben, Tahiban, Gy6rben, and Tokajban, where the namefinal sounds are cited as predictors of suffix choice. Another factor which oontributes to variation is the potential difference in suffix choice between natives ofa town and outsiders. An outsider may well think that the name Noszvaj takes the in-cases on analogy with Tokaj, but locals use the on-cases. Non-local use of a suffix immediately marks a speaker as an outsider. A third complicating factor is that in some instances morphological differentiation may go together with semantic differentiation, as in Bekb-ben 'in ~k& county' vs. Bekb-en 'in ~ka town~ To summarize the foregoing, I quote Fenyvesi (1995/1996:400): "The use of one or the other case with Hungarian place-names is not predictable morphophonemically... The patterns of suffix choice among Hungarians in Hungary and those in America have been shown to differ (see e.g. Kontra 1990), but the differences are not yet well understood and described. Hungarian-Americans often use the on-cases with American place-names, e.g. Nubranszvik-on 'in New Brunswick', with which Hungarians in Hungary would only use the "foreign'" (inessive) suffix -ban. For instance, in a recent survey nearly all of 50 students at the University of Budapest used the on-cases with metropolitan Hungarian place-names like Csetnek-en, Sz8c-en and Visk-en, but they chose the in-case for the American name NUbranszvik-ban (see Bartha 1997). In a study of attrition and borrowing among Hungarian-Americans, Fenyvesi (1995/1996:400402) bas described both inter-speaker variability and intra-item variability, e.g. Milciszport-on and Mrkiszport-ba 'in McKeesport~ both used by secondgeneration subjects, i.e. her informants used different case sets with the same name at different points in the interview. Such inconsistency bas not been reported in the speech of metropolitan Hungarians (see Note 2), and it may be a characteristic of attrition. Variation in a Hungarian-American idiolect Dqh (1995) is an authentic text which was written to be printed for a Hungarian academic audience by a prominent Hungarian-American foDdorist in

Otanging mental maps and morphology 177

Bloomington, Indiana in 1993. The author is a highly language-conscious scholar who is proud of her pure Hungarian. Her use of place-name suffixes is categorical in some cases and variable in others. For instance, in her essay the name Gary always receives the in-cases (20 out of 20 occurrences) as do East Chicago (9 occurrences) and Plant City (6 occurrences). With other names the author uses the suffixes variably, e.g. with Whiting (2 in vs. 1 on occurrence), Crown Point (1 in vs. 1 on occurrence}, Hammond (5 in vs. 6 on occurrences}, and Indiana Harbor (3 in vs. 19 on occurrences). Her suffixation of Magyarorszdg 'Hungary' is near-categorical: she used 12 instances of the Standard Hungarian surface case-endings and one instance of the interior illative case (visszakilltaziJtt Magyarorszdgba 'moved back to Hungary~ Digh 1995: 158}. Illustrative of such intra-item variation is the following text, with the critical on- and in-suffixes italicized: KQman UvahUi gyerek volt e; Hammondon n6tt fel. Floridaba vonultak nyu-

galomba. Mariska f~rje hallila ut4n visszak6lt6z6tt Hammondba.

'K41mm grew up in an orphanage in Hammond. Upon retirement they moved to Florida and Mary moved back to Hammond after her husband's death: (~

1995:169)

Earlier observations The first study to touch on some of these problems which I am aware of is by the Budapest linguist Solt~z (1967), who observed that Hungarians in Hungary's neighboring countries were increasingly using the on-suffixes with foreign place-names such as Novi Sad-on 'in Novi Sad, Yugoslavia' or Ploiqti-en 'in Ploiqti, Romania'. The author noted that on-cases were used not only with foreign names of cities which were once part of Hungary and had an original Hungarian name as well (e.g. Serbian Novi Sad= Hungarian Ojvidek}, but also with names of foreign cities which have never been part of historical Hungary nor ever had a Hungarian name (e.g. Ploiepi). From a Standard Hungarian point of view, one would expect Ojvidek-en but Novi Sad-ban, according to the home vs. abroad rule, as in Ndndorfehhvdr-on but Belgrdd-ban.3 A few Hungarian language cultivators in contemporary Hungary's neighboring countries have also commented on the issue. Particularly important for us is Kossa (1978, also published in 1979), a Hungarian language cultivator in Voivodina, Yugoslavia, who commented that Hungarians in Yugoslavia could not possibly use the in-suffixes as in Novi Sad-ban, Subotiaf-ban. and Osijelc-ben. For them it would be absurd to use the foreignizing suffixes with

178 Mild6s Kontra

the Serbo-Cmatian equivalents of the traditional Hungarian names Ojvid8c. Szabadka and Esz8c (which all take the on-suffixes in Hungarian). Under a strict interpretation of the home vs. abroad rule, says Kossa (1978:337), one would have to use the on-case with the traditional Hungarian name Zentd-n but the in-case with its Serbian equivalent Sentd-ban. Kossa goes on to say that in extreme cases one would have to use the same name with different suffixes depending on the location of the particular town or village mentioned. For instance, one would use Mitrovicd-n for the locality in the Srem region of Serbia (once part of historical Hungary) but Mitrovicd-ban for the same-name locality in Kosovo, an autonomous region in Yugoslavia (Serbia) which has never been part of Hungary. 1\vo Hungarian linguists in Yugoslavia have recently conducted semiformal surveys of place-name suffix use. Papp (1998: 146) found that 91% of 57 high schoolers used the traditional Hungarian on-case with Es2/c-en (a city in ex-Yugoslavia, currendy in Croatia), but only 75% of the same pupils used the on-case with Osijek-en, where Osijek is the Serbian/Ooatian equivalent of &Uic. In this case the foreign name of the same city patterned with the foreignizing in-suffix more frequendy than the Hungarian name of the city, but other similuly equivalent names showed mixed patterns. Papp ( 1998: 143) also noted that the usage among Hungarians in Voivodina counts as incorrect and non-standard according to prescriptivists such as Tompa (1980).4 The other Hungarian linguist in current Rump Yugoslavia to write on the topic is Katona (1998). She used a questionnaire with 30 adults in the city of Zenta/Senta and found, among other things, that 25 of the 30 informants used the home on-suffix with Mitrovica, which shows, according to the author, that the name has a "home taste• to it. Katona (1998: 151) has also summarized a heated press debate about the use of place-name suffixes in 1992. One extreme view in the debate was that the rules used in present-day Hungary must be followed by all Hungarians, whether they live in Kassa (Slovakia), Kolozsvair (Romania), Beregsz;isz (Ukraine), New York, or Tokyo. The opposing view was that local usage should be respected even in the case of place-names denoting cities or villages in the Hungarian language area beyond Hungary's present borders. According to this argument, respecting the Sprachgeftihl of minority Hungarians in Yugoslavia is a kind of"psychological conquest~ which is a precondition for Hungarians feeling at home in their homeland in Yugoslavia.

Cltansing mental maps and morphology 179

A cognitive linguist's view Szilagyi. a Hungarian cognitive linguist in Romania, offen an analysis of Hungarian semantic structures in the spatial dimension of'inside' (bent in Hungarian) and 'outside' (kint) ( 1996: 26-29). Kint is related to positive values (e.g. the "us-group") while bent is related to negative values (e.g. the "others-group"). It is for this reason that where Hungarians live is a kint 'outside' place, which is sunounded by bent 'inside' places. When Hungarians "get out to a dearing" (/sijutrulk a tisztdsrJ!), they are surrounded by the woods, something they walk into fkmennek az erd6f!rl. According to Szilagyi. this explains why all foreign countries take the in-cases (e.g. FrandaorszAg-ban 'in France' and Romdnid-ban 'in Romania') but Magyarorszdg 'Hungary' takes the on-cases. SUkely Hungarians in transylvania (a part of historical Hungary until1920) usually say bemegyank Molduvdba 'we go into Moldavia' (a province in Romania which has never fallen within the borden of Hungary) and kijaviink Molduvdb6l 'we come out of Moldavia~ Hungarian place-names can take either the on-cases (e.g. Szeged-en) or the in-cases (e.g. Debrecen-ben), but this choice is only possible "with the names of cities/towns/villages which are in areas where Hungarians or speakers of Hungarian (potentially) live, or are perceived to (potentially) live• (Szil4gyi 1996:28). Such places are kint places, where we (=Hungarians) are, and all other places are bent places, where others are, e.g. Tolci6-ban 'in Tokyo' or Washington-ban 'in Washington'. In categorizing a place-name as a kintplace (where Hungarians are) or not, what is important is not the actual presence of many Hungarians (or Hungarian speaken belonging to the us-group) in the place, but whether or not speaken of Hungarian perceive the place as such. Speakers vary in their perception of different places, hence the variation in language use, in this case between inand on-suffixes. Hungarians in Romania perceive the Romanian regions beyond the Carpathian Mountains (which have never been part of Hungary) as places they could themselves inhabit, consequently, says Szil6gyi, they say and write forms like Ploiqti-!! 'to Ploiqti' and Craiovd-!!, 'in Craiova~ These forms are highly unusual for Hungarians in Hungary, says Szil4gyi, but Hungarians in both Hungary and Romania are surprised to hear that many Hungarians in America live NUbranszvik-on, not Nubranszvik-ban. It is no accident that Szil6gyi uses the definition "places perceived as localities where Hungarians or Hungarian speakers belonging to the us-group live~ For instance, the Israeli city name Jaffa can also take the on-cases in Hungarian, a fact probably more related to linguistic than national or ethnic factors, namely that the Hungarian-speaking Jewish us-group - in accordance

do Mild6s Kontra

with the value-semantics of Hungarian and with their own linguistic world view- perceive themselves as living in a Jcint place in Jaffa, a place inhabitable by Hungarians or speakers of Hungarian.

The study

Subjects In 1996, a survey was conducted in order to determine some similarities and differences between Hungarian as used in Hungary and in neighboring countries.5 The survey gathered language-in-society data (324 tasks) and linguistic

data (59 tasks). The linguistic data are of two kinds: judgment and production. The linguistic variables studied fall into universal Hungarian variables (ones that vary in all Hungarian-speaking areas of the Carpathian Basin), and contact variables (which show the effect of bilingualism). The survey was conducted with a quota sample stratified for age, education and place of residence in Slovakia (N = 108), Ukraine (N = 144), Romania (N = 216), Yugoslavia (N = 144), Slovenia (N = 67) and Austria (N = 60), with a control group in Hungary (N = 107). Our field workers a1so made an attempt to interview about as many women as men. All of the subjects identified themselves as Hungarian in answer to the question "Are you Hungarian? I mean by nationality, not by citiunship." Three age-groups were used: 13to 32-year-olds, 33- to 53-year-olds, and 54- to 85-year-olds. 1\vo educational groups were predefined: those with less than 12 years of education and those with a college or university degree. Place of residence breaks down into two oppositions: city vs. village, and local majority (high concentration of Hungarian speakers) vs.local minority (scattered speakers). A local majority locality was defined as one where Hungarians constitute at least 70% of the local population, while in a local minority settlement they constitute less than 30%. In addition, in the case of Romania, another criterion, proximity to the Hungarian border, was also used (a factor irrelevant in all other countries, where most Hungarians live near the border). With six informants in each of the 3 age-groups x 2 education groups, we get 36 informants in a locality. With 4localities we get 144 informants for each project country, but for various reasons the number of informants totaled 144 in only two countries (Ukraine and Yugoslavia). In the case of Slovakia, the category of local minority village is rather atypical; therefore the number of informants there is 144- 36 = 108. In Romania the use of the "proximity to

Cltansing mental maps and morphology l8l

the Hungarian border'" variable inaeased the number of informants by 2 x 36, yielding a total of 216. Due to the small number of Hungarians in Slovenia and Austria, the sample for countries with large Hungarian minorities could not be used. In Slovenia 67 informants were surveyed while in Austria 60 questionnaires were recorded. An important difference between Austria and all the other countries is that most Hungarians there are immigrants scattered across the country rather than indigenous Hungarians. Thus in Austria our informants are geographicaDy stratified into 20 people in Vienna, 20 elsewhere in Austria, and 20 in Burgenland ( 10 of whom are indigenous to the region and 10 immigrants). Owing to the civil war in the former Yugoslavia, the study could not be conducted in Eastern Slavonia, Croatia. Comparisons of the aggregate data from the six project countries with those from Hungary show that the sample is homogeneous with regard to the age, educational level and sex of the informants, but a country-by-country comparison revealed some significant differences at the p < .05 level; for instance, the sex distribution is nearly equal in all countries, but in Yugoslavia it is 34.7% males vs. 65.3% females. Methods Contact variables show the effect of bilingualism in either of two ways (see Lanstyak & Szab6mih~y 1996; Csemicsk6 & Fenyvesi 2000). First, a feature can vary both in Hungary and in neighboring countries but there can be significant differences in frequency, e.g. in the gender-marking of Hungarian lexemes with a possible "feminine form• such as tan4rn6 'female teacher' (see Lanstyak & Szab6mibaly 1996: 121), which is used more frequently by Hungarians in Slovakia than in Hungary. Second, some contact features vary with Standard Hungarian forms in the speech of ethnic Hungarians aaoss the borden, but such variation is unknown in Hungary. For instance, under Slovak influence Nekem ettal a szobdt6l nines kulcsom 'I don't have a lcey to this room' may vary with the Standard Hungarian Nekem ehhez a szobdhoz nines kulcsom in Slovakia, but not in Hungary (see Lansty;ik & Szab61llih41y 1996: 124). A variety of tasks were used. In one type of task, informants had to choose the more natural of two sentences provided. Another type required them to judge a sentence and correct it if need be. Yet another type of task asked informants to choose either of two alternatives provided for a blank in a sentence. In the fourth major type of task, blanks in a sentence had to be filled with a word-ending or a full word.

~~~

Mild6s Kontra

Hypotheses Our basic assumption was that the political border changes have contributed to a divergence in the use of Hungarian place-name suffixes (for such divergences, see e.g. Auer & Hinskens 1996: 15-18).1t is assumed that the 1920 border changes have had an impact on the mental maps of both majority and minority Hungarians which govern their choice of on- vs. in-cases with placenames. Generally stated, as the mental maps of majority and minority Hungarians diverge more, so will there be a growing divergence in their use of the place-name suffixes. Specifically, the following hypotheses have been formulated: 1. Hungarians in Hungary and those aaoa the borders will differ in their use of suffixes: the latter will use the on-suffixes near-categorically for placenames outside historical Hungary but within the state in which they live, whereas Hungarians in Hungary will use the in-suffixes categorically for these places. 2. Among subjects aaoa the borden there will be differences. Many subjects will use the on-suffixes with place-names denoting cities in their own state, but few will use them with names of cities in a foreign state. 3. Age differences wiH show ongoing change. 4. Place of residence will have an effect local majority spealcers will be less affected by change than local minority speakers, and speakers near the border will be less affected than othen. 5. Education will have an effect: more educated speaken will be less affected by change (and will more closely follow the prescriptive norms codified in Hungary, see 'Earlier observations' above).

Findings Of the many linguistic tasks in our questionnaire, two were specifically designed to gather data to address the issue of place-name suffixes. The placenames chosen were Craiova (a city in Oltenia, Romania) and Kosovo (Hungarian Koszcw6, an autonomous region in SE Serbia). Both have always been outside historical Hungary. In one task, informants were required to choose one of two words (Craiovdn or Craiovdban) that best fit into the sentence Az egyik ismer8slhn fia ... volt batona 'The son of an acquaintance of mine was a soldier in •.: • In the other task, subjects had to choose the more natural sentence of these two:

ChanJing mental maps and morphology 183

( 1) Koszov6blln folytat6dnalc a tdrgyal4sok cu: albdnok ~ a szerbek kiJziJtt, and (2) Koszov6n folytat6dnalc •.. 'Negotiations between the Albanians and Serbs in Kosovo continue'. Comparison of the data &om Hungary with the aggregate data &om the six neighboring countries shows that 49.6% of the Hungarians aaoss the border and 32.1% of the Hungarians in Hungary chose the on-suffix with Craiova. The Chi-square test shows a significant difference: i = 11.339 (df =1), p < .001. This finding partly corroborates hypothesis 1 and partly refutes it: Hungarians in Hungary show considerable variation. Country-by-country analyses show that significantly more subjects in Romania chose the "home suffix" with Craiova than subjects in the other countries, and the same "home suffixation" is favored with Koszov6 by subjects in Yugoslavia and Slovenia (see Figures 1 and 2). As expected, Figure 2 demonstrates that Koszov6 is used with the "home suffix" (the on-suffix) by 61% of the informants in Yugoslavia (Voivodina). The same suffix is used by an even higher percentage of the subjects in Slovenia. One factor that might play a role in this is the continuance of the former Yugoslav mentality among the Hungarians of Slovenia, at least &om the geographical point of view, of what is home and what is abroad However, the political detachment of these Hungarians &om the former Yugoslavia is shown by their responses to a rating task on a 5-point scale: 56% chose "least attached to the former Yugoslavia" and 44% chose "most attached to Slovenia". 90 80 70 60

'8- 50 40 30

20 10 0 Slovakia Ukraine

Romania Yugoslaia

Slovenia

Austria

Hunpry

l-=movaban•Craiovanl Fipre 1. Choice of Craiovdbtm vs. Craiovdn by Hunprians in seven countries. N = 818,

t

(df= 6) = 109.501 (p < .01)

l8.t Mild6s Kontra

90 80 70 60

#.

50 40

30 20 10 0 ·~

~0'

I• Koszov6ban B Koszov6n I Fipre 2. Choice of the more natural form Koszov61Nan vs. Koszov6n by Hungarians in seven countries. N = 830, (elf= 6) = 130.475 (p < .01)

'!!

What Figures 1 and 2 amply demonstrate is that hypothesis 2 is partly corroborated. On the one hand, Hungarians across the borders are highly affected in the case of place-names denoting localities in their own state, but, on the other hand, they also use the on-suffix. albeit to a much smaller extent, with names denoting places in foreign countries. Under hypothesis 3, it is expected that a greater number of young informants will choose the on-suffixes than older informants. This is in fact the case with Hungarians in Romania, as shown by Figure 3. The fact that significantly more younger subjects than old subjects chose the on-suffix may be a sign of morphological change. However, as Eckert (1997: 152) has stated, "Without evidence in real time, there is no way of establishing whether or not age-stratified patterns of variation actually reflect change in progress." As yet, we have no real-time evidence to exclude the possibility of age-grading here. While the age-stratification of speakers choosing Craiovdn in Romania is worth noting, we found no significant age differences among those choosing Koszov6n in Yugoslavia. Pending further studies, hypothesis 3 cannot be corroborated or discarded. Place of residence shows interesting effects. In Romania, more local majority subjects chose the on-case (Craiovdn) than local minority subjects (see Fig-

Changing mental maps and morphology

lle 4). However, the reverse distribution is found in Yugoslavia, where more ocal minority subjects chose the on-case in Koszov6n than local majority subects (Figure 5). The results in Yugoslavia support hypothesis 4, but those in romania go against it. It should also be noted that the majority vs. minorty differences were only significant for the place-names in the subjects' own :ountries, i.e. with subjects in Romania no significant difference occurred for (oszov6n vs. Koszov6ban, and subjects in Yugoslavia did not differ significantly n their choice of Craiovdn vs. Craiovdban.

100

80 60 40 20 0

13-32years

33-S3years

I• Craiovtban

S4-8Syears

II Craiovm

:jpue 3. The effect of age on the choice of Craiovdban vs. Craiovtfn by Hungarians in tomania. N = 213, 2 (df = 2) =6.807 (p <.OS)

x

100

80

80

~

60 "8-

orin

40

20 0 Local majority

Local minority

ligule 4. The effect of place of residence on the choice of Craiovdban vs. Craiovdn b) iungarians in Romania. N =213, f (df = I)= 5.203 (p < .05)

~6s1Contra

As regards the variable of proximity to the border, two comparisons were nade: local minority city dwellers near to vs. far from the border, and local maority villagers near to vs. far from the border. In neither case did a significant

lifference occur, which proves the second part of hypothesis 4 wrong. Finally, the effects of education are also mixed for subjects in Romania: nore university-educated subjects chose Craiovdn than less educated subjects Figure 6), but the reverse distribution occurred when the subjects in Ro-

:see

90 80 70

81

60

if. so 40 30

20 10 0

Majority city

Majority village

I•Koszov6ban

Minority city

•Koszov6n

Minority village

I

Fipre 5. The effect of place of residence on the choice of the more natural form Koswv6ban vs. Ko.szov6n by Hungarians in Yugoslavia. N = 136, 'f (df = 3) = 9.SO I (p < .OS). Majority vs. minority speakers:

r (df= 1) = 6.659 (p = .01)

100 80

if.

82 67

60 40

20 0

< llyars

I• Craiovaban

Uniw:rsity/College

•craiovan

I

Fipre 6. The effect of education on the choice of home-country Craiovdban vs. Craiovdn by Hungarians in Romania. N =213, "1! (df= 1) = 5.756 (p < .05)


100 80 ;1.

84 68

60

40 20 0

< 12years

I• Koszov6ban

UJli.m-sity/College

II Koszovon

I

Figure 7. The effect of education on the choice of the more natural foreign-country form Koszo116ban vs. Koszov6n by Hungarians in Romania. N =212, f (df = 1) =6.679 (p < .01)

mania chose between Koszov6n vs. KDszov6ban (Figure 7). Thus hypothesis 5 was proved wrong for the home-country place-name but right for the foreign-

country place-name.

Discussion The data above show a highly mixed picture. Both hypotheses 1 and 2 have been shown to be partly right, partly wrong. Hungarians in Hungary differ from Hungarians across the border in the expected direction; however, suffix choice is never categorical but always variable. The home vs. abroad rule also works for Hungarians across the borders when they are compared to those in other states (e.g. Hungarians in Yugoslavia vs. in Romania). Apparent time differences may be a sign of ongoing change, but pending a check for age-grading, the results are inconclusive. Residence patterns show mixed results: as expected, local majority speakers in Yugoslavia are less affected by change, but in Romania they are affected more than local minority speakers. Education also has a mixed effect contrary to the hypothesis, the more educated Hungarians in Romania lead the change for Craiova (in Romania), but the same speakers show the hypothesis right for Koszov6 (in Yugoslavia).

J88 Mild6s Kontra

Conclusions

The border changes in the Carpathian Basin after WWI have caused changes in the way native speakers of Hungarian perceive places as localities where Hungarians or Hungarian speakers belonging to the us-group live (Szilagyi's rule). Consequendy, their changing mental maps have caused differences in the use of place-name suffixes between Hungarians in post-WWI Hungary and those in neighboring states.

Notes • This study bas been funded by the Raean::h Support Scheme of the Hip Education Support Programme. Prague. put no. 582/1995. Tbrousbout The Sociolinguistics of JIJm. priGn Outside Hunpry project ~ have benefited sreatJ.y from the imolvement of Peter 'IiudsiJI. who helped the project's raean:hers in many ways, which include delivering the plenary lecture at our )arly confaence in UzhhorociiUnsv'r, Ukraine in 1995 (see 'Iiudsill l996s),lecturing to teachers of Hungarian from Hunpry's neighboring muntries at the Bolyai Nym Akadania in Miercurea CiudCsflcszemla. Romania in 1996, visiting the

Cs4nJ6-Hunprians in Moldavia. Romania the same year and then some. L Acconling to the theory of the political nation, national identity is defined on the basis of citizenship. Accotding to the theory of the cultural nation. it is defined on the basis of language and cultuR. Hunprians define themselves as a cultural nation. Many American, British, French and other readers who cle6ne national identity on the basis of citizen. ship find this difficult to understand. For instance, in a Coundl of Europe monograph the Fmlch geography pro&ssor Michel Foucher (1994:45) writes: "The 1920 '&ianon 'lkaty is still considered in Hungary as an 'unjust' treaty." Profnsor Foucher seems to be sugesting here that the baty which dismembered the Kingdom of Hungary and put millions of indigenous ethnic Hungarians into fomgn states was not unjust, but even if it mulcl haft been seen as unjust after WWI, by now it should have been re-evaluakd as a just tJaty. This may perhaps be a legitimate expectation under the theory of the political nation, but it is simply nonsensical for a Dation which is mnstitutcd as a cultural nation. 2. .Actually, the choice is between two sets of cases: the surface set containing the c:lelative case (e.g. Brulapest-r61'from Budapest'), the superessM case (Butlllpat-en 'in Budapest') and the sublative case (BwliiJ'GI-re 'to Budapest'), and the interior set containing the elative case (e.g. Vdldny-b61 'from Vallmy'), the inessive (Villdny-lum 'in VdJ4nY) and the illative (Vdldny-bG 'to Vallmy'). It is usually agreed that choice of a case from one set predictably implies choice of another case from the same set, i.e. there is little if any inconsistency in this part of Hungarian morphology. 3- Ndndorfohlrvtjr (in Hungarian) or Beograd (in Serbian, 'Belgrade') was an important frontier fortress in medieval Hungary and the scene of a glorious Hungarian victory over

Otanging mental maps and morphology 119 the Ottoman army in 1456 (see e.g. Bait 1990: 69). The battle there (IJiindorfmbvdri csata in Hungarian) is a set topic in all Hungarian history schoolbooks. 4o The rasons for this lie in the monolingual traditions of Hungarian language cultivation and the fact that until wry recently Hungarian linguists did not even oontemplate the linpistic oonsequences of the dismemberment of historical Hunpry after WW1 and the

involuntary placement of millions of indigenotu Hungarians under foreign rule in the then newly created countries of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia, and the enlarged Romania (see Kontra 1997a, 1997b).

s.

For a description of the study, see Kontra (forthcoming). The oontact varieties ofHungarian in Subcarpathia, Ukraine are analyzed by <Mmicsk6 and Fenyvesi (2000) and Csemicsk6 (forthcoming), in Romania by Benc3 and Szil'-gyi (forthcoming), in Slovakia by Lansty8k and Szab6mihaly (forthcoming), and in ex-Yugoslavia by Goncz and Voros (forthooming).

References Auer, P. & Hinskens, F. (1996 ). The oonvergence and diwrgence of dialects in Europe. New and not so new developments in an old area. Sodolinguistial. 10, 1-30. Bak, J. (1990). The late medieval period. 1382-1526.1n P. Sugar (Ed.),A Historyo{Hungary (pp. 54-82). Bloomington/Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Bartha, C. ( 1997). Helysegneveink ragodsa hatirainkon innen is tUI. In G. Kiss & G. Zaicz (Eds.), Szavak- nevelc- mStdnzk: lrt&olc Kiss Lajos 75. szQ/ethnapjdra (pp. 4~1). Budapest: A Magyar Thdom8nyos Akademia Nyelvtudomanyi lntezete. Ben6, A. & Szil8gyi, N. S. (forthooming). Hungarian in Romania. In A. Fenyvesi (Ed.), Hungarian Language Contact Outside Hungary: Studies on Hungarian as a Minority Language. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Csemicsk6, I. (forthooming). Hungarian in Ukraine. In A. Fenyvesi (Ed.), Hungarian Language Contact Outside Hungary: Studies on Hungarian as a Minority Language. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Csemicsk6, L & Fenyves~ A. (2000). The sociolinguistic stratification of Hungarian in Subcarpathia. Multilingua.I9(112), 95-122. Digh, L. (1995). A Calumet-videk magyardpnak nyelve es kulhirlija. Az adatkazlok. In A. Vazsonyi & M. Kontra (Ed.}, Tul a Kecegdrd4n: Calumet-vidlki amerilcai magyar smttU/Beyorul Castle GarrJen: An American Hungtn'ian Dictionary of the Calumet Region (pp. 12~180). Budapest: Teleki Uszl6 Alapftvmy. Eckert, P. (1997). Age as a sociolinguistic variable. In F. Coulmas (Ed.), 'Ihe Handbook of Sociolinguistics (pp. 151-167). Oxford: Blackwdl Fenyvesi, A. (1995/1996). The case of American Hungarian case: morphological change in Mckesport, PA. Acta Linguistica Hungarica, 43,381-404. Fenyvesi, A. (1998 ). lnftectional morphology. In I. Kalesei, R. M. Vago. & A. Feu.yyesi (Eds.), Hungarian [Descriptive Grammars] (pp. 191-350). London and New Yorlc Routledge. Foucher, M. ( 1994). MinoritiG in Central and Eastern Europe. Strasbourg: Council of Europe Press.

190 Mikl6s Kontra

G6ncz, L. & V6r6s, 0. (forthcoming). Hungarian in the former Yugoslavia (Voj'VOdina and Prekmurje). In A. Fenyvesi (Ed.), Hungarian Ltmgru~ge Contact Outside Hungary: Studies on Hungarian as a Minority Langru~ge. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Katona, E. (1998). Helyviszonyragok hasm8lata a zentai magyarok nyelveben. InK. 5andor (Ed.), Nytlvi vtfltoz6- nyelvi vdltozAs (pp. 151-157). Szeged: JGYF Kiad6. Kontra, M. (1990). Fejezetd a South Bend-i magyar nyelvhaszndlatb6L Budapest: A Magyar Tudonuinyos Akademia Nyelvtudom&nyi lntezete. Kontra, M. ( 1997a). Hungarian linguistic traitors champion the cause of contact dialects. In W. Wolck & A. de Hower (Eds.), Recent studies in Contaa Linguistics (pp. 181-187). Bonn: Dnmmler. Kontra, M. (1991b). Hungary. In H. Goebl et al. (Eds.), Kontakdinguistilc 2 (pp. 1708-1723). Berlin/New York: Waher de Gruyter. Kontra, M. (forthcoming). Contextualizing The Sociolinguistics of Hungarian Outside Hungary project. In A. Fenyvesi (Ed.), Hungarian Language Contact Outside Hungary: Studies on Hungarian as a Minority Language. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Kossa, J. (1978). Thzian vagy Tuzlaban? A mi nytlvank, 336-338. UJVidek: Porum KOnyvkiad6. Kossa, J. (1979). Pristinan vagy Pristinaban? Nytlviink ftiszmzdmai, 51-54. Budapest Gondolat. Lansty8k. I. & Szab6mihaly, G. (1996). Contact varieties of Hungarian in Slovakia: a contribution to their description. International /olltJIQl of the Sociology of Language, 120, 111-130. Lanslf'k. I. & Szab6mih4ly, G. (forthcoming). Hungarian in Slovakia. In A. Fenyvesi (Ed.), Hungarian lAnguage Contaa Outside Hungary: Studies on Hungarian as a Minority Language. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Marshall, D. (1986). The question of an official language: language rights and the English Language Amendment. International Journal of the Sociology ofLanguage, 60, 7-75. Papp, G. ( 1998). A helynevek (telepolesnevek) bel- is killviszonyragos haszn4lata mint nyelvi v4ltoz6. InK. 5andor (Ed.), Nytlvi vdlto%6- nydvi vdltozAs (pp. 141-149). Szeged: JGYF Kiad6. Seton-Watson, R. W. (1908/1972). Racial Problems in Hungary. London: A. Constable & Co. [ 1972 reprint, New York: H. Fertig.] Soltesz. J. K. (1967). Az idegen szavak helye a mai magyar nyelv rendszereben. In S. Imre & I. Szathmary (Eds.), A magyar nyelv tiJrthlete Is rends~ a debreceni nytlvmkongresszus eliJaddsai (pp. 300-304). Budapest: Akadaniai Kiad6. Szilagyi, N. S. (1996). Hogyan temntsank vilagot1 Rdvezetes a nytlvi vi14g vizsgdlatdriL KolozsvU: Erdilyi 'Ianlt6nyvtan4cs. Tompa. J. (1980). Fftldrajzi nevek helyhati.roz6i rasjai.ln L GRtsy & M. Kovalovszk:y (Eds.), Nyelvmllvel6 klzilciJnyV, Volt (pp. 675-677). Budapest Akademiai Kiad6.

Exploring the importance of the outlier in sociolinguistic dialectology David Britain Essex University

Introduction Since the early days of variation studies, sociolinguistic outliers - individuals whose linguistic behaviour for some reason falls weD outside that of the wider speech community- have attracted significant attention. In almost every case ofan outlier, however, a funer exploration of the social background of the individual has shed light on their anomalous linguistic behaviour. The now famous Nathan B who, in LaboY's (1966) survey of New York Oty, exhibited variable language use quite un1i1ce that of others in the same social class, was shown by Horvath (1985) to be behaving appropriately for his gender. Of course, were it not for the advent of variationist approaches to the study of language, such outliers would rarely have been spotted. It has been the close attention to the interaction of social background with quantitative measurements of language use that have enabled researchers to highlight those individuals whose accents and dialects do not match those of their peers. The relatively small number of cases of outliers reported in the literature is, furthermore, a strong advertisement for another foundational tenet ofvariationist sociolinguistics: the orderly heterogeneity of the speech community. Analysis of outliers, in addition, has taught us considerably more than might ordinarily be warranted by this smaU number of reported instances. Four examples wiU suffice here. 1. Newbrook (1982) examined the somewhat divergent accent of a young man from West WUTal, near Liverpool in the northwest of England. The young man, 143, was a member of"a notoriously ·in-group' and fervent minority religious body" (p. 79) and subsequendy, in Newbrook•s view, did not successfuHy

19~

David Britain

integrate into a local peer group. 143's mother was from Glasgow in Scotland, and he had lived there, too, until the age of 4. After that time, he had lived with his family near liverpool Newbrook describes a somewhat overbearing mother who, despite I43's age (20 years old), it appears, kept a rather tight rein on her son's social activities. In fact, 143's accent showed a considerable influence from Scottish features: Newbrook demonstrates that 31% of his tokens of lei/ and 83% of his tokens of lou! could be identified as Scots (p. 82) and puts this down to his "failure to emancipate himself from the control and influence of his mother, and his ensuing relative lack of integration into the outer community" (p. 84). Newbrook's analysis is all the more interesting because it highlights, in I43's use of nearby Liverpool and regional Cheshire variants, that he speaks the kind of interdialect typical of speaken in second dialect acquisition contexts (Ttudgill & Britain, forthcoming 1). 2. Chambers (1984), in his analyses of Canadian Raising in Toronto, reported on the case of Mr. J.. Unlike other speaken in his sample, Chambers found that Mr. J. did not conform to the well-known pattern of Canadian Raising of /au/: [Au] before voiceless consonants and [au] elsewhere. His investigations led him to the discovery that Mr. J. had moved at the age of 11 to Toronto from Upstate New York, a region that does not have Canadian Raising of /au/. Since Canadian Raising is a relatively complex form to acquire, it appears that Mr. J. arrived in Toronto too late to fully and accurately acquire the local rule. 3. Wolfram, Hazen and Tamburro (1997) report on the variety used by Muzel Bryant, born in 1904 in the sole African American family living among Anglo Americans on Ocracoke Island off the east coast of North Carolina in the US. Muzel worked for almost all of her life as a domestic and rarely mixed for pleasure with the Anglo community. Wolfram et al. (p. 13) state that "our information and observations lead us to conclude that Muzel Bryant has lived her life socially separated from other Ocracoken~ She never married, and the only other African Americans on the island were her brother and sister, who had both died in the early 1990s. The interesting question Wolfram et al. ask is how African American is the dialect of an African American in a community of one? Their detailed analysis of a number of variables highlights '"her equivocal status as an [Ocracoke] islander" (p. 34). For some variables, such as wordfinal cluster reduction and rhoticity, she squarely aligns with patterns of usage typical of mainland African Americans. Her vowel system, however, seems to be rather mixed, with some features matching Anglo Ocracoke variants and othen more typically AAVE. In other respects it is more similar to Ocracoke, for example in terms of third person plural verb concord and were/weren't regularisation. It is noteworthy here also that for some variables she uses variants

Explorlns the importance of the outlier 193

which the authors claim are possibly typical of an "older rural southern AAVE variety" (p. 27; see also p. 29). 4. Trudgill, in his research with the Origins of New Zealand English Project team at the University of Canterbury, examined the accent of a Mr. Ritchie, an outlier in a whole community of outliers forming the first distinctively New Zealand Anglophone speech community (Trudgill, Gordon, Lewis, & Maclagan 2000b; Trudgill, forthcoming b). Mr. Ritchie was born in 1866 of parents who had come from Perthshire in Scotland. 'Ihldgill (forthcoming b) describes his accent as "a phonological system which sounds very bizarre to anyone familiar with British Isles varieties of English". Mr. Ritchie had some Irish features in his speech, such as dental stops for /9, a/, and dental allophones of It/ before /r/, but also some features not associated with Irish English at all, such as /hi dropping. Furthermore, Mr. Ritchie retains a /w-Nt./ distinction, and Trudgill points out that a combination of the presence of this distinction along with /hi dropping is unheard of in the UK. Trudgill explains Mr. Ritchie's accent (as well as a whole host of other speakers with somewhat unusual combinations ofphonological features) as being typical of the patterns children can acquire in situations of extreme dialect mixture such as that of mid-19th century New Zealand. He notes that "children at the second stage of new-dialect formation have considerable freedom to select variants from different dialectsspoken not only by their parents but also by everyone else in the communityand form them into new combinations" (forthcoming b). The first two examples shed important light on the constraints on acquiring a second dialect (social integration and phonological rule complexity), the third on the linguistic consequences of social and ethnic isolation, and Trudgill's example on processes of new dialect formation.

Fens outliers My own research on the Fens in Eastern England did not find one unified speech community demonstrating 'orderly heterogeneity, but perhaps three distinct ones. Because of the demographic history of the Fens - marshland, for the most part, up to the mid-17th century, reclaimed by the Dutch, and then settled mostly by in-migrants from the east and west, causing dialect contact and koineisation at the points of greatest contact - distinct varieties still exist in the eastern, central and western Fens, with the central area showing classic characteristics of koineisation (Britain 1991, 1997, 2001). 1 This study considers two very different male outliers found during my sociolinguistic in-

194 David Britain

/nmw7

1:..

(Narda Sa)

H~-

~:G

'-y

~~ \ •PE11!RBOROUCH

•

ICING'S LYNN Norfdk

e

.....,.

MAROI

)

CfOIATI'EIUS Cmabridplhire

Fipre I. The location of the Fens, and the main urban centres mentioned in the chapter

vestigations of the Fens. Both live within the more highly koineised central Penland area (centred on the towns of WISbech, March and Chatteris and their extremely rural hinterlands), and both behave linguistically unlike their immediate community of the same generation. Zak, in his early 60s, has lived all of his life in the Fens near WJSbecb as an agricultural labourer. His wife is also a Fenlander. As we will see, Zak does not participate in most of the linguistic changes underway in the community, nor does he adhere to the relevant standard-non-standard continuum for locally stable variables. His linguistic behaviour, furthermore, appears to show little historical continuity with earlier generations of Penland dialect speakers. Zak claims Romani ethnicity, and this, as we will see, will go some way to explaining his anomalous linguistic behaviour. He does not speak Anglo-Romani (see Bakker & Kenrick, forthcoming for a contemporary picture of Anglo-Romani in the British Isles), but was able to produce some Anglo-Romani words that he remembered and showed me a book containing many more (though he himself was unable to read it). British censuses have never reported on numbers of inhabitants claiming Romani or other nomadic or semi-nomadic ethnicities in the UK, and there is little sociological research on Romani in the Fens, but we can be fairly confident about the following:

a. Since many Romani and other nomadic and travelling groups have traditionally worked in agriculture, the Fens- the most fertile agricultural area

Exploring the importance of the outlier 1515

in the UK - has for a long time been an area that they have visited for temporary labour contracts. A traditional employment cycle would be arrival in the late spring (many farmers would supply both land on which to park caravans and running water) for potato planting, working through the gooseberry, strawberry and blackcurrant picking seasons (June to August) and on to apple, pear and plum picking (August-September), ending with potato harvesting in September and early October, before departure. b. Over the last 50 years, more and more Romani have given up travelling and have settled permanently- usually in small purpose-built estates of mobile homes- in areas like the Fens where both labour and amenity provision are plentiful. Some travellers have been integrated into Local Authority housing schemes: Zak, for example, lived with his wife in a small LA-owned retirement bungalow. c. Relations with the majority Anglo community in the Fens are fairly distant and functional. Social network ties within local Romani groups are usually strong and tight-knit, but many weaker-knit relations are maintained across considerable distances. Interethnic relations can be rather tense and occasionally boil over into more overt hostility. Zak and his wife moved around quite regularly, but always within a few miles ofWJSbech. Very little research has been carried out on monolingual Englishspeaking Romani,2 and it is impossible to judge the extent to which Zak's English differs from that of other Romani, in the Fens or elsewhere. As we'll see, it is quite distinct from that of those non-Romani around him, even though he'd never been outside the Fens for more than a few days. Reg, also in his early 60s, has also spent all his life in the Fens, as a levelcrossing gatekeeper in a very isolated rural area between Peterborough and March. When interviewed, Reg had just retired, having shared the job with his wife for 40 years. Reg was a well-known, almost infamous, character in his village, particularly in the local pub. He had strong social network ties in the community and everybody knew him, but both his reputation and local behaviour were rather colourful. Reg's dialect was quite unlike that of Zak but, like Zak, dissimilar to that of his immediate community. I will show below that the principal difference between Reg and his community was the quantitative levels of use of different variables -lower for rapid linguistic changes in progress, much higher for relic forms and for non-standard stable variants. In exploring how Zak and Reg speak,3 this study hopes to highlight the role of social integration both in accounting for language use and demonstrating the time-depth of variation existing in the community. In doing so, it con-

t,CS David Britain

siders a number of phonological and grammatical variables, some fairly stable and some undergoing change, most rather unsalient, but some that do provoke comment by members of the community. Here I present these variables and contrast Reg and Zak's realisations ofthem with the pattern for the bulk of the working-class central Fenland speech community in which they live.4 The restructuring of the past BB system The past BE system in the Fens has been undergoing quite radical change over the past century (Britain 2002). Recordings &om Fenlanders born at the tum of the century show non-standard levelling both to were and weren't: "he were clever, weren't bel" (see also Ojanen n.d. a, b). Levelling to were (in nonnegated clauses) among speakers born after 1945 is almost non-existent, while levelling to weren't is almost categorical. Whilst were as the non-standard variant in first and third person singular contexts almost disappeared, was in plural and second singular contexts increased rapidly (and there is a remarkable parallelism in this switch- see Wolfram & Schilling-Estes, this volume). Today, most of the Fens demonstrates a WIU-weren't pattern. This variation, however, is not particularly salient in the Fens. Figure 2 contrasts the non-negated past BB system in the speech of Reg, Zak and other Penland speakers of their generation. For non-negated tokens, 100 90·

80

;! 70

a:60

'S so

ft40

;1. 30

20 10

0+-----~----------------~~.=~----------~ 1st sins· 3rd sins- aistmtial 1st plural 2nd plural 3rd plural existential

smns-

plu. person/number

-Zak (N=ll7)

~Reg (N=277)

-6-Feus bom 1925-1945 (N=2388)

Fipre 2. Past tense of BE: The use of WAS in affirmative clauses - a comparison of

Rq. Zak and other Fenlanders of a similar age

Explorlns the importance of the outlier I'll

. .-.

100.-,.r-----------.----4----~----~~----

90 80

r

10

~60 ~ ~50 '15

M40

# 30 20

10 or-----~----~~~~-;-=~~--~--~--~~~

1st sing. 3td sing.

1--Zak (N=ll7)

~Reg (N=2n) ~Fens born 1925-1945 (N=2388)I

Pipre 3. Past tense of BE: The use ofWASN'T in negative clauses- a comparison of Reg, Zak and other Penlanders of a similar age

Zak has a system almost entirely levelled to was. His use of was is categorical in first and second person plural positions, and the environment in which he is least likely to use was, of all the non-standard contexts in which it occurs, is in plural existentials - the context that most studies of was levelling find to be the most encouraging environment for was. Reg, on the other hand, shows significantly less levelling to was in plural contexts than other Fenlanders, and a significantly greater use of were in singular contexts. In fact, Reg, hom in 1927, shows a pattern of past BE use similar to those born a generation before him (Britain 2002: 32). Figure 3 shows the negated past BE system. Here, Reg behaves similarly to his peer group (and to both the generations before and after him), using non standard weren't in singular contexts. Zak's pattern, however, is strikingly different, retaining in the negated past BE system the very high rates oflevelling to was that he showed in the non-negated tokens. This pattern is unlike that reported in any dialect of the southeast of England.

The diphthong in the MOUTH lexical set For almost all working class Fenlanders, east or west, the onset of this diphthong is a front and mid-open [e]. It is the nature of the offglide which ge-

t,S David Britain

ographically demarcates east and west. In the east, a clear offglide is present, usually [u] or [a], though sometimes reduced to [a] (e.g. now [nea]). In the west, the vowel of the onset is simply lengthened (e.g. [ne:]).5 Fully open onsets are extremely rare indeed in working-class speech. The difference in the realisation of this offglide is quite salient. A number of informants cited this as a local dialect variable, and one, from the east, recounted a story of someone from the west who had told him that he "lived in a [k£:11SX he:s de:n e:lwd]". I will not discuss realisations of the related /aua/ triphthong further; suffice to say that in both east and west, these are smoothed to [a:] and [£:] respectively (Britain 1991). Figure 4 shows the different realisations of the MOUTH set in the speech of Zak. Reg and other central Fenlanders. Reg's use of the relatively salient MOUTH variable matches that of the rest of his peers: [e:] is dominant, and in around 25% of the tokens, a back or central offglide is present. Other variants, and notably standard-like ones, are almost entirely absent. Again, Zak's system for this variable is extremely different. While he has few realisations of a mid-open onset, 75% of his tokens are standard-like [au]. Again, this usage pattern is quite distinct from that found among working-class speakers in other parts of this region, and would only be found in the Fens among middle-class speakers. 80 70 60

·I so '(;40

"930 #. 20 10 0 E:

2>-ZU

a:

au

A:

Variant

Fipre 4. Variation in the realisation of the MOUTH vowel: A comparison of Zak. Reg and other people in the Fens

Explorlns the importance of the outlier 199

'Canadian Raising' in the PRICE lexical set The realisation of the PIUCE diphthong is particularly salient in the Fens. While western parts of the Fens use [a.i-ui], the east has raised onsets [~i]. In the central Fens, an allophonic split exists, with the western form being found before voiced consonants, schwa and word boundaries, and the eastern form before voiceless consonants (e.g. night time [n~Iltaim]). In Britain (1997), I argued that this 'Canadian Raising' -like pattern emerged as a result of phonological reallocation of input forms during the post-reclamation dialect contact in the central Fens. Today, in the western and particularly central Fens, change is underway, turning the diphthong into a long vowel This change does not apply before voiceless consonants, however, so the allophonic distinction between voiced and voiceless is actually getting progressively wider: [nailta:m]. Figure 5 contrasts Reg and Zak's realisations of /ail, both before voiceless consonants and elsewhere, with those of the rest of the central Penland informants of their generation. Reg is a 'Penland Raiser' par excellence. Over 97% of his tokens before voiceless consonants were realised as [~i], and over 98% of his tokens before voiced consonants, schwa and word boundaries were pronounced as [ai]. The other central Penland speaken showed high levels of central onsets in voiceless environments, but the change from [ai] to [a:] before voiced consonants, schwa and word boundaries is well underway in this group, too~~~------~=r---------------------

90 80

-70

·~~ 60 ~so

~40

-'30 20 10

0

a:

ai

before voiceless consonants before voiced consonants, schwa and I Realisation and phonological environment IIICentral Pens (N=3703) •Res (N=S49) DZak (N=270)!

Fipre 5. Variation in the realisation of the PRICE vowel: A comparison of Reg, Zak and other people of the same generation in the central Fens

200

David Britain

with just under one third of tokens realised as the long monophthong. Reg shows very little sign of wholehearted adoption ofthis change. The 1.6% of his tokens that were realised as [a:] were all preceding IV, the environment most favouring the change right aaoss the Fens. Zak is an almost consistent user of [ai], regardless of following phonological environment, and hence does not share the 'Canadian Raising,-like system shown by his Central Penland peers, and especially by Reg. Zak, therefore, uses a system quite like that of older speakers from the northwest of the Fens, around Peterborough and Spalding. Variation (or lack of it) in the vowel of the BATH lexical set The Fens straddle the isogloss dividing the north of England (which retains a short vowel in this set -/ba81) from the south (where this set has developed a long vowel- /bca:81). The western and northern Fenland towns of Peterborough, Spalding and Holbeach and their rural hinterlands all retain the short vowel, while the eastern towns and villages - King,s Lynn, Downham Market, Ely, etc.- have developed a long vowel (often very long and relatively front [ba:.8]). The central Fens for the most part have the long vowel, but, particularly among older speakers, individuals often retain a few lexical items with the short vowel. One speaker from WlSbec:h, for example, consistendy used the long vowel, except in the word pltznt (and plants. planted etc.) which had [a]. However, very few speakers showed robust variability, with the vast majority using either the short vowel or the long vowel in over 80% of tolcens. Furthermore, and despite its importance for linguists and dialectologists, variability in the BATH set is locally unsalient (see Britain 2001 for further detail). So far, Reg's behaviour has been not too dissimilar from that of his fellow central Penland generation. Figure 6, however, is a dramatic example of how his speech does differ from his peers. It contrasts the •control, groups from either side of the /a/-/a:/ isogloss - with locations in the northwest such as Peterborough and Spalding showing almost consistent use of [a] and those in the centre and east with [a:]. Both Reg and Zak. however, show patterns of almost balanced variability. They were. furthermore, the only speakers in the entire Fenland corpus that had [a) use levels between 20% and 80%. Everyone to the north and west of the Fens used [a:] in more than 80% of all tokens, and everyone in the centre and east used [a] less than 20% of the time. This is the first variable for which Reg,s behaviour (48% [a]) is more unlike that of his central Penland peers {10% [a]) than Zak's (44% [a]). Table 1 shows the individual BATH lexical set tokens and their realisations from both Reg and Zak"s data in the corpus. In the Penland data generally, al-

Exploring the importance of the outlier t$ VI

-l\o ~

.e

]so _...40

• -30 t: .; 20 '0 10

!i

#.

Speabn &om the north-

Reg

Zak

Speabn &om the central

and eastern Fens

westemFens

Speaker/location Fipre 6. [a] realisations of the BATH vowel: A mmparion of Reg. Zak and other Fenlanden of the same generation

though most people bad at least some variation overaU, it was almost always the case that speakers were 1exically consistent. In other words, if they used [a] in a particular lexical item, they would always use [a] in that word, even if they used [a:] in others- the Wisbech speaker above with consistent [a] in plant but [a:] elsewhere is a good example of this. Reg, however, has a large number of BATH set words (8lexical items making up 59% of his total number of tokens) in which he shows variation, as Table 1 demonstrates, and this therefore sets him apart from other Fenlanders, as weB as Zak, who, although also showing variability within individual lexical items, does so less (39%) and in fewer lexical items (just 3). So it is not just Reg (and Zak's) levels ofvariability that are not in keeping with the rest of the community, but also the structure of that variation. lnterdialectal variants of the STRUT lexical set As with BATH, the Fens straddle the north-south divide which separates areas in the South with /A/ in the STRUT lexical set from those in North with /u/ (and hence no distinction between STRUT and FOOT). This variable is unlike the

in two respects: firsdy, a wide range ofinterdialectal, phonetically intermediate forms are found in the Fens, such as [u YA]. No such intermediate forms were found at all for BATH. Secondly, speake~ are highly BATH lexical set, however,

201

20~

David Britain

Table I. Variability in the BAni lexical set: Reg and Zak•s short and long variants of individual tokens Laical items proaouncecl with [a]

a.

Laicel items proaoUDcecl with [a:]

Laical items proDOUIKieCI with [a]

.Lexical items proDOUDcecl with [a:]

Plant (5)

Plant(3)

Past(S)

Past (I)

Ask(6)

Past (I) Ask(3)

Last(4)

Last (9)

Aircraft (2)

Airaaft (1)

Baslcet (2)

Basket (2)

Zak

Past (6)

Dance (2)

Dance (2)

Passed(2) Bnss(2) After (I)

Passed (I) Bnss(l) After (6)

Pass (4) Ask(3) Class(2) Thmsfer(2)

Laugh(4) Masta-(2)

Plant (4)

Last(S)

Afternoon (2)

Aftanoon (2)

Grass (1)

After (4) Basket (3) Fast (3)

Doncaster (2) Grass (2) Daft (1)

Glassmore (1)

Nasty(l) Staff(l) Answer (I) Fast(l) Gasp (1)

Raspberry (1) Newcastle ( 1) Grasmere ( 1)

Ganpnaster (2)

Laugh (1) Path (I) Casde(l) France (1) Daft (1) Class(l)

variable, with many using a wide range of these interdialectal variants as well as [u] and [A] in their speech. Like BATH, however, variation in the STRUT lexical set is unsalient (see Britain 2001). Figure 7 shows how Reg, Zak and other Fenlanders of the same generation realised the STRUT variable. As with BATH, Reg and Zak show somewhat similar patterns of usage which are quite distinct from their peers. They both use much higher levels of the northern and northern-influenced interdialectal variants [u] and [u] and fewer more open variants than other speakers in their community. The central Penland speech community is much more interdialectal, preferring the [Y] variantphoneticallymid-waybetween [u) and [A]. T

Discussion So both speakers, and especially Zak, show patterns of linguistic variation distinct from the community which surrounds them. Zak's variation is particu-

Exploring the importance of the outlier ~----~--------------------------------------~

10

u

y

A

Realisation of STRUT lexical set

1-+- Res

---Zak _._Old central Penland~

Fipre 7. Realisations of the STRtJI' vowel: A comparison of Reg. Zak and other Fenlanders ofthe same generation

lady perplexing. For one variable, MOUTH, he prefers standard-like variants. For two others, STRUT and PRICB, he behaves like speakers living further to the north and west, and for BB and BATH he behaves quite idiosyncratically. A look at other dialect features in his speech shows further features not found among his peers. These include the use of singular verb forms with plural subjects of present tense have and be ((1)-(2) below); atypical past tense forms (3); variability in the presence of and allomorphy in the indefinite article system (4H6), and hypercorrection with respect to /hi (7):6 (1) I know you think underdrain pipes bas been out a long while. (2) The roads,s breaking to pieces. (3) I never knowed a farmer who paid into a pension scheme in his life. (4) They've got agency for that sort of thing. (5) There,s a agency in the local pub the Plough up here.

(6) It was six pound a acre.

(7) That,s the honestly [hvmsli:] truth.

203

204 David Britain

Further research into Romani Englishes would, first of all, help to establish whether these characteristics are common to some regional ethnolect or are, indeed, simply idiosynaacies. It might be argued that Zak picked up his northwestern Fenland features through weak ties made during agricultural jobs in Lincolnshire, but he spent a considerably greater amount of time in the Penland west of Norfolk (which mostly has a central Fenland variety) - yet his dialect shows little evidence of influence from there. In the circumstances, however, the fact that he speaks atypically is perhaps not too surprising. It was dear from talking to him at length that whilst he had a considerable number of weak social network links, both with Romani and non-Romani Fenlanders and right aaoss the area, he bad never had strong ties with many at all, and wouldn't have experienced the necessary pressure to conform to local dialect norms that such networks would impose (J. Milroy 1992; J, Milroy & L Milroy 1985; L Milroy 1980). His nomadic lifepath around the Fens had, right from childhood, been as one solitary family unit- with his parents and sisters as a child, and with his wife and daughter as an adult. The opportunities to interact with non-Romani children as a youngster would have been extremely limited (few Romani, even today, are well integrated into the local school system, and play outside school with non-Romani was virtually non-existent). As an adult, no roots were set down in the same place for more than a few months at a time, though he recounts often going back to work on the same farms for similar tasks, such as strawing strawberries, each year. It could be argued that his travelling may help explain, for example, his variability in the BATH lexical set. Given both that he worked in the [a]- and [a:]-using areas and that there was vestigial inter-speaker variability in assignments of lexical items to the short and long vowels,7 the diffuse lexical distn'bution of short and long vowel forms that he came into contact with may have led to him adopting a more mixed and interdialectal system. If this were the case, however, we might additionally have expected to find much more evidence ofa mixed and interdialectal system for the STRUT variable, with more tokens of southern and intermediate variants, but here Zak consistendy retains very northern realisations. His social isolation &om other Fenlanders bas led to his development of a dialect quite structurally isolated from that of a community which surrounds him but within which he has not particularly successfully integrated. Reg's case is altogether differenL For some variables, such as MOUTH and negated past tense BB, he closely matches his surrounding speech community. In doing so, and this is, I believe, important in the explanation of his distinct linguistic behaviour also, he is continuing the use of relatively stable local

Explorlns the importance of the outlier 205

dialect norms. Investigations of MOUTH (Britain 1991) and past BB (Britain 2002) among older speakers in the community (a small corpus of recordings ofFenlanders born around 1900) show that Reg matches the dialect patterns of these speakers one generation before his own. For PRICE and non-negated past BE, Reg's dialect structure also represents somewhat conservative linguistic behaviour. For PRICE, he shows the typical and traditional Penland manifestation of 'Canadian Raising', but with little progress in the ongoing change from [ai] to [a:] before voiced consonants, schwa and word boundaries. For non-negated past BE, he shows considerably higher leveJs of non-standard were following first and third person singular subjects. As with MOUTH and negated BE, however, he is matching the generation that went before him. Reg is, then, ultra-conservative, and this is reflected furthermore in some other ways, most notably his (variable) use of auxiliary BE rather than HAVE in some verb forms (8)-( 10): (8) I said you don't know what buggering money fm got.

(9) I used to say to them rm give you some bloody good hidings. (10) I'm been strawberrying at WISbech.

It is his patterns of use of the BA7H and STRUT variables, however, which are the most radically different, not just from the rest of his age group but also from the generation born around 1900 that preceded him. For STRUT he uses considerably higher levels of'northern' [u] and[~] forms. For BATH he shows an almost balanced use of [a] and [a:] found otherwise only in Zak's speech. Geographical isolation may well be a contributing factor here. The village in which Reg was living is small and very remote. Although it is not too distant from the central Penland town of March, the road distance is considerably greater than as the crow flies and the roads are of extremely poor quality- there is no through-traffic. The only amenity in the village was a pub (to which Reg was a frequent visitor), bus services were infrequent, and the train which whizzed past Reg's gatekeeper's house didn't stop. Given that the Fens themselves are relatively isolated anyway, this village represents, to borrow from Wolfram et al.'s (1997) article title, isolation within isolation. In such highly remote communities, we can, as Trudgill's research on language and isolation has clearly demonstrated (see, for example, 'Ihldgilll989a, 1989d, 1992d, 1996c, 1998h, 2002c), expect to find changes either being much slower than in more central areas, or the preservation of (often complex) earlier linguistic structures which bave been levelled away in areas of higher contact. It is possible to argue, I believe, that for BATH and STRUT, as well as for the other variables which showed

206 David Britain

at least a generation of 'lag~ it is this isolation that has led to the preservation of patterns of variability from the past. My apparent time studies of STRUT and BATH in the Fens have shown that the central Penland norms for these variables are currently moving in the opposite direction from Reg's realisations of them. Young people, for example, are using interdialectal [Y] ever more consistently than older generations who, in this area, tended to use somewhat higher levels of northern forms. As we saw, Reg's use of northern forms was very high indeed, and his dialect for this feature may well simply represent a snapshot of much much earlier times. In the case of the STRUT variable, what's more, Reg's village is not the only isolated hamlet to show higher levels of northern forms than its surrounding community. In Britain (2001:227), I reported on the remote and sparsely populated hamlet of Gedney Drove End near the south coast of the Wash in south Lincolnshire. It too had northern variants of STRUT at higher levels than the rest of southeast Lincolnshire which surrounds it. Research on the BATH lexical set in the Fens (Britain 2001) shows not that southern [a:] forms are aeeping northwards but that an ever sharper isogloss is developing between the (south)east and the (north)west. Furthermore, over apparent time individuals on either side of that isogloss are becoming more categorical in their choice ofthe BATH variant. Whereas in the central Fens 12% of BATH tokens from speakers born between 1925 and 1945 were realised with a short vowel, this figure drops to 8% among speakers born between 1960 and 1975. On the other side of the isogloss the proportion of tolcens of [a:] used by (north)westem Fenland speakers drops from 13% among the older age group to 8% among the young. Categoridty is emerging either side of the isogloss from what apparently was greater earlier variability. Reg's isolation, coupled with the fact that his village lies close to the isogloss on the eastern side, may explain why he shows variability quite unlilce the rest of the central Penland, and that his speech represents the pattern that perhaps once held right across the area.• Zak and Regs dialects, therefore, are both characterised by the consequences of isolation. In Zak's case it is social and ethnic isolation from the mainstream Fenland speech community. He belongs to an ethnic group that has little intimate contact with the majority population, and he himself had few strong social network ties within it. He was therefore under very little pressure to adhere to the social, including linguistic, norms of that community, and his dialect provides ample evidence of this. Whether he shares a dialect with other members of his ethnic group is difficult to judge given the paucity of research on Romani English. Reg lives in an isolated and sparsely populated village in

Exploring the importance of the outlier •7

a relatively isolated and sparsely populated region. Rather than bearing no resemblance to local dialect norms, however, his variety is able to shed light on its previous states because of the braking effect that social isolation has on language change. In this sense, then, it is not only children who act as linguistic historians (Labov 1989) but speakers from socio-geographically isolated parts of the speech community, too. It has been shown here, furthermore, that a close examination of seemingly non-conforming speakers is able to differentiate those who demonstrate linguistic continuity with the speech communityalbeit with bygone dialect patterns- from those who are truly outliers.

Notes L A good deal of the early resem:h that I carried out on the Fens was for a Ph.D. thesis supervised by Peter liucfsill. He somehow remained calm throughout, as well as Providins a peat deal of moral and academic support. I would like to thank him here for the immense amount of assistance he has pen me both during those Ph.D. years and ever since.

In fact. when compared, say. with work in the US or New Zealand, wry little variationist raearch in England has mnsideml edmicity as a social variable. British Black Englishes have usually been studied as distinct varieties (e.g. Sebba 1993, forthmming), and the Asian 2.

Englishes in the muntry are almost entirely unexplored (see Fox. forthcoming. however). 3- I'd like to thank both Zak and Reg (pseudonyms, of course) for welcoming me into their

homes and participating in this survey. Sue Britain and Pegy Britain also provided essential assistance with this rcseardl, and the Reseudl Promotion Fund at Essex University provided a small grant which facilitated the analysis of some of the variables discussed heR. 4- The methodology for the Penland study can be found in Britain (1997). Fortunately for this particular study. half of my informants came from the central Fens (where the koineisation that was the focus of the original study is most apparent), and my recordings with Zalc and Reg were particularly long, yielding relatively large numbers of tobns for the relevant variables. s. And consequently becomes an environment triggering 'intrusive r' - e.g. now and [IX!Ianagen]- see Britain (1991); 'lhlcfsill, Hemandez-Campoy and Britain (forthcoming m), for more details. 6. The central Fens is largely fbi retaining. but Zak, furthermore, is a pretty consistent fbi dropper.

,.m

7· The speaker &om WISbech with [a] only in pkurt was mentioned earlier. He had an elder brother who used [a] only but consistently in CIIStle, after and stll/f, and two younger sisters, one of whom only used Ia] in after and another who only used it in bnus. glllss and pltmt

(Britain 2001:238). 8. Sadly, Ellis (1889), whilst having a peat deal of detail about STRUT in eastern England in the 19th century. says virtually nothing about BATH.

208 David Britain

References Bakker, P. & Kenrick, D. (forthcoming). Anglo-Romani In D. Britain (Ed.), Langwge in the British Isles (2nd edition). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Britain, D. ( 1991 ). Dialect and Space: A Geolinguistic Study of Speech Variables in the Fens. Ph.D. dissertation, Colchester: Essex University. Britain, D. (1997). Dialect contact and phonological reallocation: 'Canadian Raising' in the English Fens. Language in Society. 26, 15-46. Britain, D. (2001). Welcome to East Anglia!: two major dialect 'boundaries' in the Fens. In J. Fisiak & P. 1iudgill (Eds.), East Anglia English (pp. 217-242). Woodbridge: BoydeD and Brewer. Britain, D. (2002). Diffusion, levdling. simpli6cation and reallocation in past tense BE in the English Fens.Joumal of Sociolinguistics, 6, 16-43. Chambers, J. K. (1984). Group and individual participation in a sound change in progress. In H. Warkmtyne (Ed.), PtJpm from the Fifth International Conference on Methods in Dialectology (pp. 119-136). l.Jniversity ofVictoria: Department oflinguistics. Ellis, A. (1889). On Early English Pronuncilltion: Part 5. London: 'Ihlebner and Co. Fox, S. (forthcoming). Koineising ~: New Dialect Formation amons Bangladeshi and White Adolescents in Tower Hamlets. Ph.D. dissertation, Colchester: Essex University. Horvath, B. (1985). Variation in Australillll English. Cambridge: Cambridge l.Jniversity Pras. Labov, W. (1966). The Socim Stratification of English in New York City. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics. Labov, W. ( 1989 ). The child as linguistic historian. Language Variation and Clumge. 1, 85-98. Milroy, J. (1992). Linguistic Variation and Clumge. Oxford: Blackwell Milroy, J. & Milroy, L (1985). Linguistic change, 10cial network and speaker innovation. Journal of Linguistics. 21, 339-384. Milroy. L. ( 1980). Language and Socim Networlcs. Oxford: BlackweD. Newbrook, M. (1982). Scot or Scouserl: an anomalous informant in outer Merseyside. English World- Wule. 3, 11-86. Ojanen, A.-L (n.d. a). Past tense forms of the verb BB in the dialect of Cambridgeshire. Manuscript Ojanen, A.-L (n.d. b). Past-tense neptive forms of the verb BE in the dialect of Cambridgeshire. Manuscript. Sebba, M. ( 1993 ). London Jamaiaur: L~Ulf~Ulge Systems in Interaction. London: Longman. Sebba, M. (forthcoming). Caribbean Creoles and British Black English. In D. Britain (Ed.), Language in the British Isla (2nd edition). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wolfram, W., Hazen, K., & Tamburro, ). ( 1997). Isolation within isolation: a solitary century of African-American Vernacular English. ]oumal ofSociolinguistics, 1. 7-38.

When is a sound change!* On the role of external factors in language change Jim Milroy University of Michigan

Introduction In sociolinguistic research, it is not always dear which of the many variation patterns identified actually indicate sound dumge in progress and which are merely synchronic variation. Of course, as Labov ( 1972) pointed out, sound changes in progress may be indicated by crossover patterns on graphs (based on quantification) together with real-time evidence, but this can be seen as part of a practical methodology rather than a fuB answer to the more general question, since, presumably, change may be in progress even when we do not manage to capture it as a crossover pattern. Furthermore, to identify a change in progress does not in itself answer certain important general questions, such as: what is a sound change, when does it start, and when can we say that it has gone to completion? Such questions are not often overtly addressed in the sociolinguistic literature, and, arguably, some patterns that have been claimed to indicate changes may not be changes at all. A aucial difficulty is that of time-depth, involving questions like the following: What was the prior state of language in which this particular process of change was embedded? Did the pattern of change identified (if it actually is a pattern of change) begin recently, or has it been around for centuries? If it has been around for centuries, is the change we have identified the same as the change that began centuries ago, or is it a different change? This chapter straddles the borderline between sociolinguistics and historical linguistics: it is concerned with the difficulties involved in relating the methods of one to the methods of the other.

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Jim Milroy The questions asked above have many ramifications that are important in any theory oflanguage change. They include all the traditional questions posed by historical linguists: for example, whether the implementation of particular changes is phonetically gradual or abrupt, lexically gradual or abrupt, and, especially, whether particular changes are internally or externally induced - or both. They also extend to consideration of the kind of theoretical constraints that have limited the range of interpretation traditionally permitted, such as the Neogrammarian distinction between sound change and borrowing. I will approach these questions of historical time-depth and the transmission of sound changes by describing one relatively uncomplicated case that has been studied by variationist methods: the phenomenon of (th)-fronting in Derby, in the English Midlands.

(th) fronting in Derby In the project Phonological Variation and Change in Contemporary Spoken British English (summarised in L Milroy et al. 1999), we were concerned with following out certain phenomena that we thought might represent changes currently in progress in much of Britain. 1 These included [t]-glottalisation, linking and intrusive [r], and labiodental [r]. In this chapter I will consider one such instance: [f,v) realizations of the variable (th)- as in three, brother- in the city of Derby. This has the effect that these words sound like free, bruwer, and it amounts to a merger of [9,lt] with [f,v) on the part of individual speakers. We call this (th)-fronting. The spread of (th)-fronting in British English has been noticed by various observers. Thirty years ago, Wakelin (1972:98) commented that it was "a well-attested and widely spread phenomenon"; he added that, although it is associated with "Cockney•• it can be heard in "areas further afield~ including the northern city of Leeds. It was also noted byTrudgill {1988b) in Norwich and by J. and L Milroy in Sheffield in the 1980s; more recently, it has been reported by Stuart-Smith (1999:209) as "sporadic• in Glasgow. It is generally assumed to originate in inner-city London English, from which it is believed to have diffused to many parts of the Home Counties and to urban centres more distant from London, not immediately affecting rural areas in between. In Derby, nearly 200 miles north-west of London, we have detected it in the speech of younger speakers only. Thus, the phenomenon is sharply age-graded and may represent a change in progress.

The role of external factors in languase change

(th)-fronting is of interest for a number of reasons that have to do with the distribution and diffusion of linguistic variants. As the usage is confined to younger speakers, it is of interest to establish whether it represents an early stage in a diffusion process. More generally, this example, if it represents a sound change, is relevant to the intemaVextemal dichotomy (i.e., whether changes originate as internal or external to particular communities) and to the Neogrammarian regularity principle (including the axiom that changes are lexically abrupt, but phonetically gradual). In this chapter I will also be concerned with time-depth: as (th)-fronting is attested from the past, how does this affect our definition ofwhat a 'sound change' is? We proceed now to the data analysis.

Data analysis We worked with a sample of 32 speakers recorded in dyadic conversations of about 50 minutes each, and each informant additionally read a wordlist designed to focus on interesting variables, including (th). The speakers were equally divided between what we classified as working class and middle class, young (aged 16-25) and middle-aged (aged 45-65), male and female, there being four speakers in each cell. In preparatory work, we had noticed that the heaviest users of [f,v] were likely to be among the eight younger worlcing-class speakers. Therefore, the first step was to analyse the wordlists of these speakers (which is assumed to represent their careful style). There are twelve relevant items: enthuse, something, nothing, neither, either, throat, throne, thirteen, health, with, doth, (I got) nothing. Surprisingly, two of the eight speakers (Shaun & David) had 100% [f,v] on the wordlist, and a third (Steph) had 11 [f,v] out of twelve (92%). One speaker (Matt) had one [f). Theremainingspeakerswere categorical [9,a] users on the wordlist. Thus, we can conclude that three speakers consider [f,v] realisations to be suitable as citation forms in a formal reading task. This is quite striking, as change from below (Labov 1994: 78) is not normally expected to affect reading styles until quite late in the process of diffusion, and correction strategies towards the more conservative variant (in this case [9,a]) are expected in wordlists. For the other five speakers, the citation forms are the ones normally expected. We then moved on to investigate (th)-fronting in the conversational styles of all younger speakers - eight working class and eight middle class. Voiced and voiceless realisations are distributed initially, medially and finally, as in this, other, with, breathe and three, month, anythjng, breath. The medial distri-

~

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Jim Milroy bution of voiceless [9] considered here is restricted to bi- or poly-morphemic items and syllable onsets- such items as something, anything. Initial voiced realisations are confined to a closed set of pronouns, determiners and place/time adverbials such as this. then, there, which do not participate in the fronting (as in London English) and are therefore excluded. The analysis therefore covered voiceless syllable-onset (such as thin, something) and coda positions {e.g., month), together with medial and final voiced realisations. Examination of the data showed that the likelihood of labiodental realisations is quite high in all these positions and that the labiodental 'rule~ when applied, is an across-theboard rule not subject to any important constraints that would differentiate between the different positions or between different lexical items. Thus, if [ f, v] are in the process of entering the community, and to the extent that they are, the process appears at this stage to be lexically abrupt. Hit is a change, it appears to be a Neogrammarian exceptionless change {see further below): every relevant word or morpheme can occur with [f,v]- probably with equal likelihood.

Findings

Analysis of conversational speech {younger speakers only) showed a dramatic difference between middle- and working-class speakers. The figures are: [f,v] [8,8]

Working class 128 81 Middle class 14 187 Working-class speakers favoured the labiodentals 62% of the time, whereas the score for middle class speakers is only 7%. For gender, the figures (both social classes con.flated) are as follows: [f,v] [8,8] Females 68 144 Males 74 124

For working class speakers alone, the figures are: [f,v]

Females 58 Males 70

[8,~]

46

35

The role of extemal factors in lan1088e c:bauge 213

As females use [f,v] about 56% of the time, and males 67%, it is dear that these

results do not reliably indicate a gender difference in adoption of the new variant. The differences among individlllll speakers. however, are of greater interest. In Table 1, speakers are listed in descending order of [f,v] usage and labelled as male (M) and female (F): Table I. Incidence of [f,v] in individual speakers [f,v]

[8,1]

% [f,v]

MShaun

26

FSteph MMatt

32 20

FStacey

13

MScott MDavid

15 9 9 4

2 3 7 10 13 13 18 15

93 91 74 57 54 41 33 21

FSue FMichelle

Clearly, speakers do not fall into homogeneous groups differentiated by gender. The strongest [f,v] users were Shaun and Steph (who were also strong [tv] users in wordlist style). The males range from 93% to 41% and the females &om 91% to 21%- a wide range in both cases. The males are ranked 1, 3, 5, 6, and the females 2, 4, 7, 8. It may be important to notice that the lowest-scoring male and female are brother and sister with relatively weak ties to the peer network, and it would be useful to look into the differing kinds ofnetwork ties that might account for the scores here, as degree of integration into the community appears to be important in this case (see J. Milroy 1996 for a discussion). As noted above, (th)-fronting is one of a number of vernacular variants that are probably becoming more widespread in British English It was therefore decided to compare (th)-fronting with usage of another vernacular variant- the glottal stop (which had already been quantified), and the rank-order for these eight speakers was established for (a) word-final glottal stop for It/ before a vowel, and (b) glottal stop before a pause. Not surprisingly, the rankorders turned out to be similar to the (th) rank-order (see Milroy 1996 for details). For all three vernacular variables, Shaun and Steph are consistently ranlced high ( 1 and 2) in informal vernacular usage. In contrast, David and Michelle are consistently ranked low (6, 7, 8 and 8, 8, 7). The others are ranged in mostly the middle areas. David and Michelle have relatively weak links with the others, whereas Sean and Steph are closely integrated into their peer groups. Thus, these comparisons give further support to the view that the

214JimMilroy

pattern of adoption of the [f,v] variants by individuals is related to differences in the intensity of their participation in local peer-networks: the leaders of the change (early adopters) are relatively central members (J. Milroy & L Milroy 1985:369-370).

Discussion The view that we have located a change in progress here depends largely on comparative information-evidence that (th)-fronting does not occur in older Derby speakers, that it is well advanced in London and the south-east, and that it has also been noticed in other cities- together with other vernacular changes that are affecting the younger generation in particular. It appears to be a case of geographical diffusion or dialect borrowing, and in this case and others, quite serious questions are raised about the manner in which linguistic innovations arise and how they are diffused. These questions concern internally and externally motivated change. Although this dichotomy is well motivated in certain respects (in vocabulary replacement for example), it can be problematic at the level of phonologicaJJmorphological structure (for an especially clear discussion of important difficulties, see Dorian 1993). In sociolinguistic investigations of synchronic language states, what we call 'sound changes' in progress often appear to be borrowings from neighbouring varieties. Bloomfield, in his discussion of sound change, cited an example that happens to show very clearly the difficulty of drawing the distinction between sound change and borrowing as it relates to gradual and abrupt change:Z In various parts of Europe. for instance, the old tongue-tip trill [r] has been replaced .•. by a uvular trill ..• Aside &om its spread by borrowing. the new

habit . •• could ha"¥e originated only as a sudden replacement of one trill by another. A replacement of this sort is surely different &om the gradual and impercepb"ble alterations of phonetic change. ( 1935: 390)

There are serious difficulties with this account. First, the "origin" or actuation ofthis abrupt change is equated with the change itself: Bloomfield assumed that what has to be explained is the phonetic event of abrupt replacement, not the adoption of this replacement by a rommunity. Thus, what he called a change can more accurately be called a spet~lcer-innovation (J. Milroy & L Milroy 1985). Second, as the spread of the change is by borrowing, it is implied here that this spread is therefore not the same thing as linguistic change and possibly that

The role of extemal factors in lan1088e c:bauge

it does not involve sudden replacement (the replacement is said to be "'aside from its spread by borrowing"). But in fact, whether we are dealing with some original event or with a concatenation of borrowings, each single event is phoneticaBy abrupt- a sudden replacement of one trill by another. In other words, it is possible to argue that each single event of borrowing into a new speech community is in relative terms just as much an innovation as the original event in the putative original speech community (and even that some of these events are independent innovations, not descended from a single '"original• innovation). Clearly, these observations are as relevant to our study of (th)-fronting as they are to Bloomfield's uvular [r]. As for time-depth, if we accept Bloomfield's distinction, we may be inclined to believe that we can locate the "original"' innovation in some specific community at some particular date, when there can be no guarantee at all that this is the original "'sound change" (or innovation) - the Urquelk of all the "borrowings~ We cannot be certain that it had not previously been imported from somewhere else where it was "more original" - and so on backwards ad infinitum with the origin continuously receding and eluding our grasp. In general, therefore, the distinction on which Bloomfield depended (true sound change vs. borrowing) is difficult to maintain here, and the internal/external dichotomy is again at issue. The implementation of this change seems to involve a process that has been called borrowing: if so, this process is part of the (internal?) sound change. The putative time-depth of the process affects what we mean by 'sound change' and the question arises: if the abrupt change first took place at some time and place centuries ago, are modem examples of the same phonetic substitution merely continuations of that same ancient change, or are they new occurrences that are independent of the ancient one? How can we determine whether they are or not? As our historical knowledse is seldom full enough for empirical demonstration of continuity or discontinuity, we often cannot be sure. But there is yet another, crucial, difficulty: it is also possible that an abrupt event of the kind envisaged by Bloomfield will occur - perhaps repeatedly without ever having a long-term effect on the speech community. An innovation is not in itself a change, and it is linguistic change, not innovation, that we are trying to explain. Thus, speaker/listener innovations involving, for example, uvular [r] or (th)-fronting, may take place recurrently, but the innovation will feed into language change only at a particular time or at particular times. Here, linguistic change (change in the system) is defined as a separate phenomenon from speaker-based innovation, and the problem becomes one of explaining how innovations that are constantly taking place feed into the

~s

216

Jim Milroy

system only at particular times and places. But- to return to the original question- what do we really mean when we say that (th)-fronting in Derby is actually a change? To begin to answer this, we need historical information, and we now tum to this. There can be little doubt that (th)-fronting is of some antiquity in English. H. C. Wyld ( 1936: 291) lists the following early spellings: erf (earth) from 1460-70;Lambejfe (Lambeth),frust (thrust), Frogmorton (Throgmorton) from the mid-sixteenth century; biquived (bequeathed) from Queen Elizabeth; helfo (health) from the late sixteenth century; kiff (kith), lofte (loathe) from the seventeenth century. From later centuries, Wyld lists further f and v spellings and one back-spelling: threvoles for frivolous. 3 Such occasional spellings are valuable pointers to vernacular pronunciations in the past. Wyld (1936:303-304) also cites many examples from earlier centuries of other vernacular variants: spellings that I interpret as evidence for final stop deletion and [h)-dropping in early English (J. Milroy 1983 ), and some early examples of d spellings for intervocalic t (Wyld 1927:220-221) that may indicate medial voicing (tapping?) of [t] (as in present-day American and Northern Irish English). As language is variable at all times, I don't think there is anything surprising about these examples: it seems to me to be very likely that these pronunciations occurred as variants in early English. In conventional histories of language, however, this mode of interpretation is not usually allowed (see further below). Where does this leave our interpretation of the Derby data? Well, I think we should first notice the enormous gap between language historians and sociolinguists on what is regarded as a sound change. Roger Lass (1997:281-288), discusses the idea (common enough among historians) that a change can occupy more than four centuries. He points out that this can apply to loss of pre-consonantal [r] in English, (with lengthening of the preceding vowel). Lass cites evidence of"weakening,. of [r] from 1640, and, for me, this suggests that it was not just weakened but (variably) lost at that date. The spread of [r]-loss continued through the eighteenth century and was largely completed during the nineteenth (according to Lass), but with traces of rhotacism remaining. If Thomas Sheridan is to be trusted, however, it must have been complete for some London speakers in the late eighteenth century (Wells 1982: 227) as he reported intrusive [r) in London English in 1762. If [r]-loss is a unitary sound change, when did it begin and when did it end (if it did end!)? Our answer to this depends on many things, and the most obvious of these is how we envisage the phenomenon in which the change took place- the English language. Commonly, the historian's assumption has been that the change took place in the English language as a whole, and it seems to be this long-

The role of external factors in languase change 217

term spread through the language that constitutes the sound change. Thus, the Derby (th)-fronting might also fit into a pattern of slow change that has occupied several centuries. Yet, it might be more accurate to say that what Lass is {critically) describing is not a single long-term clumge, but a long-term pattern of variability within the language, which may include numerous localised changes and movements back and forward that are hidden in the mists of time. For the variationist, however, a sound change does not get initimed in a 'language'; it takes place in a community of speakers. From this perspective, the whole traditional picture alters quite radically: in this version, [r]-loss must have taken place several centuries ago in some community, probably going to completion in that community - perhaps remaining a variant. Perhaps it took place in several communities independently. While it was diffusing within the community or perhaps within several communities, and afterwards, it was also diffusing into other communities, in the same way that {th)-fronting seems to be diffusing at the present day, through the activities of speakers. As Lass notes, we can say that pre-consonantal [r]-loss is now a "rule,. in nonrhotic dialects; yet, it is still not complete in British English and is recessive in American English. Many other long-term changes of this kind, such as vowel nasalisation in French, are recognised in the historical literature. There are, however, some other such changes that play no part in conventional histories. These include {for English) {th)-fronting, [h)-dropping, final stop deletion in clusters, medial voicing of [t] and glottalisation. The choice of [r]-loss as a legitimate topic in English historical linguistics, but not {for example) [h)-loss, raises a serious question about the effects of ideological positions on the findings of historians of language. Significantly, one of the non-rhotic varieties is the Received Pronunciation of British English, and historians have generally listed [r]-loss as a change in (British) English without necessarily commenting further. Even G. L Brook (1958:98), an enthusiastic student of dialects, commented that "[m]any consonants have disappeared in Modern English [my italics] .., and listed [r]-loss as the "most important"'. He must certainly have known that his comment was not valid for all varieties of British English, yet he felt it reasonable to make it. He further noted that "initial [h) is generally pronounced as an aspirate in presentday English,. {1958: 99). This, of course, is not correct either, and he must have known this also. Syllable-initial [h] is not "generally pronounced"- it is widely lost in rural and urban dialects throughout England and Wales, just as widely as [r]- and [h)-loss probably has a long history in the language (J. Milroy 1983, 1992: 136-144). The essential difference between these two sound changes is

218

Jim Milroy that one of them is viewed as standdrd and the other (like (tb)-fronting) as non-standard. The standard ideology decrees that it is acceptable to exclude certain kinds of information from our generalisations, without comment. In the work ofhistorians of English, the evidence for [h] -loss was explained away, largely by insisting that the early scribes were Anglo-Normans who did not know English very weU (see Clark 1992; Milroy 1983, 2000), even though there is no convincing evidence that the scribes were always Anglo-Normans or whether this would have mattered anyway. Features such as this, which had come to be considered 'vulgar' by the twentieth century, were retrospectively erased (Irvine & Gal2000) from the history of English. The convention was to regard some changes as legitimate changes in the language, but to exclude others as •corruptions" or •vulgarisms", which did not qualify as changes (for a fuller discussion see J. Milroy 2002). The historian's choice of /r/, but not Jh/, is entirely driven by a dominating ideology that is retrospectively applied. (th)-fronting, therefore, like [h)-loss and [r]-loss, appears to have a history in the language as a long-term pattern of variation, possibly consisting of one or more changes within communities at some particular time or at different times. It can be described as a ruUural change, or at least an •easy" change, and treated in terms of phonological markedness. The interdental fricatives are marked in the world's languages in that they are rare and often unstable. The Germanic languages (with the exception of Icelandic and most varieties of English) have replaced them with the dentaJ/alveolar stops [t,d], and this happens in some varieties of English also (for example, Hibemo-English, New York City vernacular). The late development of [8,lJ] in children's speech and the occasional failure of adults to differentiate them from [(v] also lead us to expect that [f,v] might occur repeatedly as variants of (th); their instability is further promoted by their low auditory salience and acoustic similarity to [f,v]. All these language-internal factors conspire to make them prime candidates for change at any time. Thus, [f.v] may have been sporadic variants in individual and community use for many centuries, sometimes being adopted by other speakers and communities and sometimes not, sometimes diffusing widely and sometimes not, sometimes advancing and sometimes retreating. It is also quite likely, again for these language-internal reasons, that (th)-fronting could have arisen independently in different communities and at different times. Because of gaps in the historical record, we cannot demonstrate that this actually happened, but we cannot demonstrate that it did not happen either. However, explanations based exclusively on internal factors do not seem to be sufficient. One reason for this is that when they do change, [8,lJ] do not nee-

The role of external factors in languase change 21t

essarily change to [f,v ]: the change to dental stops (mentioned above) may well be more common and, probably, just as natural. We need to explain why Derby speakers are adopting [f,v] rather than dental stops, and the answer here must lie partly within a dialect-contact framework (i.e., contact between Spellkers of dialects in social settings). We may speculate that a successful change to [f,v] has taken place in London, starting some centuries ago, perhaps in repeated innovations, diffusing at some times and receding at others, and finally becoming well established. In this view, the Derby pattern shows an early stage in the diffusion of the change from London, possibly via other cities. Thus, intraditional terms, this Neogrammarian "regular" sound change is also a "borrowing~ notwithstanding the Neogrammarian doctrine that regular sound change is distinct from borrowing. There is a second reason why the appeal to internal factors is insufficient. There are many varieties of English that maintain [9,lJ] and do not clumge despite the fact that the change is easy or natural and despite the fact that sporadic labiodental pronunciations must certainly occur within them. H we are to understand why a change takes place in some cases, we need also to inquire why it does not take place in others, and this requires an appeal to the idea of language maintentlnce, which is aimed at answering the question: what are the social forces that ensure that the change does not take place? The answer in this instance may seem quite obvious: the reason for maintenance here is not merely social, but ideological. The maintenance of [9,<J] cannot be unconnected with the rise of the ideology of the standard language at a time when (th)-fronting had not achieved the status of a norm among the economically powerful classes (for whose convenience the standard ideology exists). It seems, however, that (r]-loss was becoming the norm at that time- hence its acceptance and subsequent maintenance. If the powerful classes had had (th)-fronting and [h)dropping, then [f,v) and dropped [h] would have become the standard forms. The chief reason why we do not usually ask why [9,lJ] are maintained in standard English is thtu we silently view standtard English as the norm from which other varieties deviate. This is one of the more subtle effects of the standard ideology, and one that sociolinguists will wish to avoid. It is difficult to distinguish retrospectively between internally induced (endogenous) and externally induced (exogenous) variation and change. I have tried here to argue that the matter is clarified if we appeal to the innovation/change distinction: innovations may be endogenous or exogenous, and they lead to varUltion within the community; sound chang~ however, as distinct from variation, requires some kind of external trigger. To return to Bloomfield's example: the abrupt movement from alveolar to uvular [r] is an inno-

220

Jim Milroy vation, which attests to variability, but which may not always lead to change. Bloomfield's "spread by borrowing", however, is a necessary constituent part of a language change (the borrowing process is from person to person and subsequently group to group). To that extent language change is necessarily exogenous. To explain why [f,v] are being adopted in Derby at this time, we have to appeal to factors that are traditionally considered to be external. Several aspects of (th)-fronting have been considered in this chapter. We have noticed that phenomena like (th)-fronting probably have a longer history in the language than historians have allowed. Whether, at any particular time (including now), (th)-fronting has been a sound change or merely a variant depends crucially on how we understand the term 'sound change: I have suggested, amongst other things, that a sound change is not a single event that occurs in the speech of any particular speaker or speakers; neither is it a gradual and imperceptible phonetic process, nor is it actuated within a whole language. As for historical linguistics, there is still great reluctance to abandon the traditional intemalist position (see especially Lass 1997) and a "prejudice, (Danchev 1988: 38) against external explanations. I have suggested in this chapter that what are usually regarded as internal factors are involved in linguistic innovations, but that it is the external factors that are decisive in explaining how and why any particular linguistic change takes place at any particular time.

Notes • This heading is taken, with thanks, from Roger Lass's discussion of the history of (r]-loss in English (1997:281-288). I am ~ry grateful to Lesley Milroy for her comments on a dnft of this chapter. L l am~ srateful to my collaboraton, Lesley Milroy, Gerry Docherty and Paul Foulkes for their contributions to the research of which the Derby study forms a part, and additionally grateful to Paul Foulkes for carrying out the Derby fieldwork and for other assistance with the Derby analysis. 2.

l ha~ discussed this example elsewhere, e.g. in J. Milroy (1993 ).

3- Back-spellings are significant because they suggest that the writer does not have a distinc-

tion that was formerly present - in this case the interdentaVlabiodmtal distinction - and is hypercorm:ting.

References Bloomfield, L (1935).1AngutJge. London: George Allen and Unwin.

The role of external factors in languase change

Brook, G. L. ( 1958 ). History of the English Language. London: Andre Deutsch. Cluk, C. (1992). The myth of the Anglo-Norman scribe. In M. Rissanen, 0. Ihalainen, T. Nevalainen, & I. "Iiavitsainen (Eels.), History of Englishes: New Methods and Inrerpretations in Htstoriad Linguistics (pp. 117-129). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Danchev. A. (1988). Language contact and language change. Folia Lirtguistica. XXII(I-2), 37-53. Dorian, N. (1993). Internally and externally motivated change in language contact settings: doubts about dichotomy. In C. Jones (Ed.), Historical Linguistics: Problems and Perspectives (pp. 131-155). London: Longman. Irvine,}. & Gal, S. (2000). Languaseideology and linguistic differentiation. In P. V. ICroskrity (Ed.), Regimes of Language (pp. 3~). Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research Press. Labov, W. ( 1972). Sociolinguistic Patterns. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Pras. Labov, W. (1994). Principles of Linguistic Clulnge 1: IntmralFactors. Oxford: BlackweD. Lass. R. ( 1997). Historical Linguistics and Language Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Milroy, }. ( 1983). On the sociolinguistic history of /hi dropping in English. In M. Davenport, E. Hansen, & H. F. Nielsen (Eds.), Currmt Topics in English HIStorical Linguistics (pp. 37-53). Odense: University of Odense Press. Milroy,}. (1992). Linguistic Variation and Clulnge. Oxford: Bladtwell. Milroy, J. (1993). Some new perspectiva on sound change: sociolinguistics and the Neogrammarians. Newct~Stle and Durlulm Working Papm in Linguistics, 1, 181-205. Milroy,}. (1996). A current change in British English: variation in (th) in Derby. NewcDStle and Durham Working Papers in Linguistics, 4, 213-222. Milroy, J. (2000). Historical description and the ideology of the standard language. In L. Wright (Ed.), The Development of Standard English, 1300-1800 (pp. 11-28). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Milroy, J. (2002). The legitimate language: giving a history to English. In R. Watts & P. 'Ihldgi11 (Eds.), Alternative HistrnUs ofEnglish (pp. 7-25). London: Routledge. Milroy, J. & Milroy, L (1985). Unguistic change. social network and speaker innovation. Journal of Linguistics, 21,339-384. Milroy, L, Milroy, }., Docherty, G., Foulkes, P., & Walshaw, D. (1999). Phonological variation and change in contemporary English: evidence from Newcastle upon Tyne and Derby. In J. C. Conde-Silvestre & J. M. Hernindez-Campoy (Eds.), Variation and Linguistic Change in English [Cuademos de Filologia Inglesa 8] (pp. 35-46). Murcia: Univesity of Murcia. Stuart-Smith, J. (1999). Glasgow: accent and voice quality. In P. Foulkes & G. Docherty (Eds.), Urban Voices (pp. 203-222). London: Arnold. Wakelin, M. (1972). English Dialects: an Introduction. London:Athlone Press. Wells, J. (1982). Accents of English 1: an Introduction. Cambridge: Cambricfse University Press. Wyld. H. C. ( 1927). A Short History ofEnglish. London: John Murray. Wyld, H. C. ( 1936). A History ofModern CoBoquial English. Oxford: Blackwell.

221

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English Paul Kerswill University of Reading

Introduction: Geographical diffusion vs.levelling This chapter is an attempt to bring out general tendencies in the regional dialect levelling which, it is often claimed, is leading to the loss of localised features in urban and rural varieties of English in Britain, to be replaced with features found over a wider region. In particular, I consider two possible mechanisms behind these changes. The first is geographical diffusion, by which features spread out from a populous and economically and culturally dominant centre (Trudgilll982b: 52-87; Britain 2002 ). The spread is wave-like, but modified by the likelihood that nearby towns and cities will adopt the feature before the more rural parts in between. At the individual level in such a diffusion model, speakers are in face-to-face contact with others who have already adopted the new feature, and (for various reasons) they are motivated to adopt it themselves. The second mechanism is leveUing, which implies "the reduction or attrition of marked variants" (Trudgilll986a: 98; emphasis in original). 'Marked' here refers to forms that are "unusual or in a minority" (ibid.). Levelling, in this sense, is closely related to (indeed, results from) the social psychological mechanism of speech accommodation (Giles & Powesland 1997; Trudgilll986a: 1-4), by which (provided mutual good will is present) interlocutors will tend to converge linguistically. In a situation (such as in a new town} where speakers of different, but mutually intelligible dialects come together, countless individual acts of short-term accommodation over a period of time lead to long-term aa:ommodtation in those same speakers (Trudgill1986a: 1-8}. Also, in such a situation, a form of non-accommodatory behaviour may influence the out-

234 Paul Kerswill

come: this is the avoidance of forms which are negatively evaluated as highly local in favour of forms with a wider geographical currency (L Milroy 2002). The outcome is the levelling of differences among what was at first a conglomeration of varieties, often leading to a new variety characterised by the absence of localised forms (see discussion in Kerswill2002: 680-689). There is, thus, a rather awkward terminological ambiguity. Regional dialed levelling is an outcome of various partly geographically-based language change processes. One of these is geographical diffusion. Another is, of course, levelling, in the sense of 'mutual convergence~ I would propose the use of the term regional dilllect levelling for the dialed-geographical phenomenon and simply leveRing (following Trudgill 1986a) for the linguistic changes which are the outcome of accommodation. Distinguishing between the processes of diffusion and levelling in particular cases requires us to consider information oftwo kinds. First, we need to look for dialect geographical evidence for the spread of the feature to see whether the apparently 'new' feature is diffusing gradually across geographical space, or whether the feature is establishing itself simultaneously throughout a given area - in which case levelling would seem to be present. Conceptually this is straightforward, even though, as we shall see, the interpretation of the data is likely to be problematic. Second, we need to look at the types of communities involved in the change, since there is ample evidence that the rapidity and nature of language change is linked to social structure, as Trudgill has argued on several occasions (1992d, 2002c). This is a harder task than examining dialed geographical evidence, because communities are complex and the analyst's descriptions of them unavoidably incomplete and subject to interpretation. It is, furthermore, not immediately obvious how community typology relates to the question of diffusion and levelling as change processes. Trudgill suggests (1992d, 2002c:725) that in some 'high-contact language communities~ there may be imperfect learning by adults, leading to simplification and relatively rapid change. In relatively high-contact, but Jargely monolingual areas such as those characteristic of many parts of Britain, we are dealing with dialect contact and the changes that result from it ('lhldgill 1986a:39-82, 1998). In Britain, it is mobility, manifested in commuting and other forms of short-distance travel, as wen as relocation, that is perhaps the most marked indicator of high degrees ofcontact. L Milroy {2002: 7) argues that such mobility leads to the "Jarge-scale disruption of close-knit, localized networks which have historically maintained highly systematic and complex sets of socially structured linguistic norms~ We can reasonably suppose that a high degree of mobility, which leads to the weakening of group-internal linguistic norms, will render a population more recep-

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English 2.25

tive to linguistic (and other) innovations. A consequence of this increased receptiveness is that speakers can be expected to take up diffusing changes more readily, with the result that these changes move more rapidly across the language area. However, it is less dear what the consequence will be in terms of levelling. An initial approach is to suppose that intensive local mobility, especially through commuting, leads to conditions favourable to levelling; both types of change are therefore potentially favoured. I will return to this question after presenting some recent analyses of British dialect data.

British sociolinguistic dialectology and the concept of 'dialect levelling' The emergence of a sociolinguistically informed dialectology in Britain can be dated to the late 1960s with Trudgill's study of Norwich, published in 1974. This signalled a move from the rural to the urban, and with it a conviction that both the collection and the interpretation of speech data had to be socially informed. Studies in Glasgow (Macaulay 19n), Edinburgh (Reid 1978; Romaine 1978) and Belfast (L. Milroy 1980) followed. At the end of the 1980s, a new approach began to appear within this tradition. Concerns became more comparative, in that the aim was to view urban variation in a wider geographical context, instead of focusing narrowly on the social context of a single town or city. Several projects were set up, dealing with more than one urban centre or with migrants. Some of these are reported in Cheshire, Edwards and Whitde (1989), Kerswill and Williams (2000a), Milroy, Milroy and Hardey (1994), Milroy, Milroy, Hartley and Walshaw ( 1994), Williams and Kerswill (1999) and Britain (1997a, b). All of these studies share a concern with the spread of features in geographical, as well as social, space. Several were reported in Foulkes and Docherty (1999), who saw to it that each chapter contained information in a standardised format allowing for ease of comparison. Many of the articles in that book point to dialect levelling as the main 'motor' behind changes in British English varieties. In their Introduction, the editors present some of the main themes of the book. On dialect levelling, they say: Watt [one of the contributors], by way of illustration, summarises the motivation behind ongoing changes in the Newcastle vowel system in terms of

younger speakers aiming to 'dispel the "doth cap and dogs" image~ and to 'sound like northerners, but modern northerners~ Speakers can achieve these aims by avoiding variants which they perceive to be particularly indicative of their local roots, while at the same time adopting some features which are

2.16

Paul Kerswill perceived to be non-local. It seems to be important, too, that the incoming features do not signal any other particularly well-defined variety, because of the potential signalling of disloyalty to local norms. (pp. 13-14)

The claim is, then, that people in Newcastle are (in some sense) aware of what features are 'old' and what features are both 'modem' and have a wider geographical distribution. These are the motivations for introducing the features into one's speech. Dialect levelling of this sort fits in well with the social-psychological mechanism of levelling discussed in the introduction. Variants, old and new, exist in the given geographical region. Speakers adopt the new ones by accommodating to other people who may be socially attractive because of their perceived 'modernity. On the face of it, this mechanism conflicts with the geographical diffusion model, particularly since it does not include a geographical dimension. In order to see if these rather different, if not conflicting mechanisms can be accommodated within one model of change, it is necessary to examine relevant data- or, where data is lacking, to outline the type of research that would be needed.

Regional dialect levelling in English vowels Our first example is from two neighbouring cities in the northeast of England: Durham (pop. 87,000, which includes a large rural area) and Newcastle {pop. 259,000, lying within the larger conurbation of 'Ifneside). The vowel/e:/, as in face, may, rain, etc., is currently subject to monophthongisation across the region. 1 The older variant is [13]. Figures for the use of the diphthong and monophthong are given in Table 1. On the basis of the figures for both cities, it is clear that the use of the diphthong [13] is practically the preserve of male speakers. The Newcastle data additionally shows that their use of the variant is declining. We can deduce that 'Jable 1. /e/ (as in FACE) in two dialects in the northeast of England (per cent use of two variants by working-class subjects) (Kerswill1984; Watt 2002).

Newcasde. 1994

Durham, 1983 Women Men

Aaepoup

~59

~52

%(g) % (e:]

45

8

55

92

Men

Women

4s-67

15-27

45-67

63 37

36 64

92

8

15-27 5 95

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English U.7

the change began with the women, an interpretation that is in line with findings eJsewhere that women adopt linguistic features with a relatively wide geographical distribution (Watt & Milroy 1999; Milroy, Milroy, Hartley, & Walshaw 1994; cf. Cheshire 2002:430). Variants such as these are neutral in the sense that they do not signal a strong or specific local affiliation - even though they are not necessarily standardised towards an external norm such as Received Pronunciation, which uses [et]. We can examine the geographical direction of the change. We do not have figures for younger speakers in Durham, though informal observation suggests that the diphthongs are declining there, too. The sex distribution in Durham matches that of Newcastle. Even so, the use of diphthongs is much less among the Durham men than among the older Newcastle men. Taking into account the fact that the Durham recordings precede those from Newcastle by 11 years, one might conclude that monophthongisation is more advanced in Durham. If this is so, we have an example of counter-hierarchical diffusion (Britain 2002:626; 1iudgill1986a:SO). In our case, this means that a smaller, partly rural location (Durham) has adopted a change before the nearest large city. Set against this conclusion is the danger of comparing two studies which presumably used somewhat different informant selection criteria and methods. Despite this, we can be relatively sure that the feature is not spreading from Newcastle to Durham: the differences in the scores are too great for this to be a reasonable conclusion. However, it is not possible simply to conclude that we are dealing with mutual accommodation leading to levelling. In particular, it may be relevant that Yorkshire, the county to the immediate south of County Durham, traditionally has [e:]. Diffusion from there may be reinforcing diffusion from Newcastle. Neither precludes the simultaneous presence of mutual accommodation. Whatever the motivation, we are dealing here with an example of regional dialect levelling. The social and social psychological reasons for this outcome will be dealt with below. The figures in Table 1 show that the direction, rate and social patterning of change with respect to this vowel are extremely similar in Durham and Newcastle. In the next section, I will compare the two cities' adoption of two consonantal features that are thought to be spreading from the south of Englandthe fronting of /8/ and /'fJ/ to [f] and [v]- and consider whether any regional identity factors serve to link, or divide, speakers within the northeast. Two examples of changes in the southeast of England give a strong impression of regional dialect levelling there, too. In examining them, we must also consider the possibility of diffusion from London. The vowel/au/, as in MOUTH, appears to be involved in dialect levelling in this region. Tables 2 and '9"

2.28 Paul Kerswill

lible 2. Milton Keynes: Percent use of variants of /au/ (as in MOUTH), working-class speakers, interview style (Kerswill2002:697).

.

[w) SED informants (1950-60) Elderly (It 2m) Women 25-40 (n 48) Girls aged 14 (n 8) Boys aged 14 (n 8)

= = =

[11]

[c)

[c)

[eu]

[au]

25.6

9.8 11.7 0 0

0 17.2 5.9 12.3

1.2 38.6 4.7 3.8

31.5 88.8 83.1

-/ 63.2 0 0 0

0 0 0

0

Table 3. Reading: Percent use of variants of /au/ (as in MOUTH), working-class speakers, interview style (Kerswill2002: 697).

[1\f]

SED informants (1950-60) Elderly (It 2m) Girls age 14 (n =8) Boys age 14 (n =8)

[a]

(c)

(cJ

[eu]

[au]

38.1 2.3 3.2

3.3

0

0 8.0 5.7

4.1 0 0

90.4 87.1

./ 53.5 0 3.8

0

0.1

3 show the variants of /au/ in Milton Keynes and Reading, both towns situated some ~50 miles from London, to the northwest and west of London, respectively. The tables show that this variant and the unrounded [£1] have almost completely given way to [au] over two or three generations. Reading is somewhat behind Milton Keynes, due, we argue, to relatively more dose-knit networks there than in the new town of Milton Keynes (Kerswill & Williams 2000b). We have argued (Kerswill & Williams 2000a) that Milton Keynes is an example of a further type of levelling, not explicitly dealt with this in this chapter: newdialect formation, where mutual accommodation is demonstrably the mechanism behind the development of a new dialect or "immigrant koine' ('Iiudgill, Gordon, Lewis, & Madagan 2000b; Siegel 1987, 2001). We argued that the more rapid and complete change in Milton Keynes is due to that town"s greater receptiveness to incoming changes, whether spread by diffusion or by levelling. Secondly, we look at a vowel shift in the southeast of England. Data for this shift, which affects short vowels, is taken from Torgersen and Kerswill (2002, in prep.) and consists of formant measurements (F 1, F2) of about 3,000 vowels tokens. The speakers were four elderly and eight teenage informants both in Ashford,2 a town some 50 miles to the southeast of London, and in Reading. The purpose of the study was to test the hypothesis that structural (internal) factors would affect the progress of the shift more strongly than the external factor of dialect contact.

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English n,

Figure 1 employs Wells' (1982) keyword system to label the lexical sets involved. Each arrow shows the direction and extent of change deduced from a comparison of older and younger speakers in Ashford. It is readily apparent that the change in Ashford is a 'classical' chain shift. Figme 2 shows that the Reading vowels do not follow this pattern. First, for four of the vowels there is no change at all. Second, for STRUT the shift is in a different direction. Only for fOOT do we find the same change as in Ashford. Why is there such a big difference between the towns? If we examine the end points of the changes in both towns, we see that the target appears to be the same vowel quality. The difference is, simply, that the starting points of the changes are different- to the east of London the front vowels were higher and

FOOT

m

I

lOT

STRUT

Figure 1. Vowel shift in Ashford.

FOOT

•

•

Figure 2. Vowel shift in Reading.

\

lOT

STRUT

230

Paul Kerswill

was more front and lower than to the west of the capital The result is convergence between the vowel systems east and west of the city- an obvious sign ofregional dialect levelling. A likely conclusion is that the external factor of dialect contact (whether leading to diffusion or levelling) will override internal structural factors when they are in conflict. This is a conclusion similar to that ofWatt (2000), who discusses the symmetrical shift involving /e:/ (as in FACEdiscussed above) and /o:J (as in GOAT) in Tyneside English. STRUT

Dialect levelling in English vowels: Mutual accommodation or geographical diffusion! The trajectories of the three examples of regional dialect levelling discussed above are dear enough. However, the bare figures indicate neither the mechanism (diffusion vs. levelling- or both) nor the social motivation. As we have seen, Foulkes and Docherty appeal to a social psychological explanation for (regional) dialect levelling: speakers actively seek out neutral forms in order not to signal very local and possibly old-fashioned identities. This interpretation seems to allow us to do without a diffusion model As long as the features concerned are accessible in the individual's everyday life through contact with other speakers, and as long as there is broad agreement as to the social value of particular features, then convergence between varieties may arise. There is no implication that features spread from a more densely populated centre; instead, there may be a kind ofbalanced mutuality among the varieties (and their speakers) with respect to the loss and adoption of features, governed by a set of shared evaluations (in Labov's 1966 sense). The development of these evaluations, however, presupposes a considerable degree of mobility in the population, leading to good opportunities for people to meet others over a relatively large area. It is here that the link between social structure, shared attitudes and levelling (in the social-psychological sense adopted in this chapter) becomes apparent. Shared attitudes presuppose contact; the geographical extent of these attitudes is therefore dependent on the size of the area over which relatively intense contact takes place. This is an idea closely related to Gumperz's view of the 'speech community': "Speech communities, broadly conceived, can be regarded as collectives of social networks" (Gumperz 1996: 362; cited in Patrick 2002: 581) - a view echoing Bloomfield's (1933:46) statement that "differences of speech within a community are due to differences in density of communication': Levelling takes place through faceto-face accommodation, steered by shared attitudes. The geographical limit to

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English

Levelling depends precisely on the degree of mobility, something which in tum is related to the geographer's notion of the functional urban region (Olampion & Coombes 1983; Olampion & Dorling 1994). As an indication, consider the fact that, in the London area, there are commuters who travel up to two hours in each direction- the time it takes (traffic permitting) to travel the 120 miles between Ashford and Reading. Most commute to London, but many also travel to other locations around London. One could find similar patterns in the densely populated hinterlands of other big cities. At the current stage of research, it is admittedly not yet possible to state the relative contribution of diffusion and levelling. Nonetheless it is possible to come up with some tentative conclusions. It seems likely that levelling is a significant factor in the Newcastle/Durham area, even if features are spreading north from the Large cities in Yorkshire. As for the three southeastern towns, it is reasonable to suppose that diffusion is of greater consequence, simply on the basis of a comparison of the relative populations of the places involved: London has a population of eight million, as against 180,000 for Reading and Milton Keynes and 100,000 for Ashford Unfortunately. research on this has not yet been forthcoming. London has been said to be the principal source of current linguistic innovations in Britain: "Its working-class accent is today the most influential source of phonological innovation in England and perhaps in the whole English-speaking world" (Wells 1982:301). Without new research we cannot come to any conclusions about the origins of the innovations we have logged in Reading, Milton Keynes and Ashford. At this point we might mention the work of Sandey (1998), who shows that linguistic innovations involving simplification may diffuse in a counter-hierarchical fashion from the periphery to the centre. This would have consequences for the way we approach the investigation of innovations in London and its satellite towns.

Consonants: Torchbearers of geographical diffusion! There appear to be no reports of vowel changes spreading throughout the whole country: local 'solutions' are the order of the day. The same can, however, not be said of consonants. A feature that has spread through much of England is the use of the labiodental [o] for /r/ in place of [l] (Foulkes & Docherty 2000). Here, we examine three other features: the use of the glottal stop [1] for intervocalic It/ as in better, the merger of /6/ and /f/ as [f) as in thing, and the merger of /fJ/ and /v/ as [v] medially and finally as in brother and smooth. To gain a picture of the geographical spread of these features, we consider data

~31

2p Paul Kerswill

from Reading and Milton Keynes and, in addition, a large city on the coast of Yorkshire, Hull (Williams & Kerswilll999). It is clear from Figure 3 that the three variables have similar sex and social class distributions in the three towns. In each, the variable of class is the better predictor. This distribution is surprising, considering that, in fact, the variables have dissimilar histories. Andr~n ( 1968: 18) presents evidence that glottal replacement of intervocalic It/ first appeared in the west of Scotland (including Glasgow) around 1860, spreading to the east of Scotland and the far north of England some years later. According to Andrisen, the first evidence of glottal replacement in the London area is from around the beginning of the 20th century. By the middle of the 20th century, glottal replacement and glottal reinforcement of intervocalic It/ was a feature of rural dialects in most of eastern England, but not the southwest, the Midlands or northern England, including Yorkshire (Trudgill1974a: 81 ). The feature seems to have diffused to urban centres outside the southeast within the last 30-40 years (see Mees 1987 on Cardiff, and Watt & Milroy 1999 on Tyneside). The phenomenon is therefore considerably older in the southern towns than it is in Hull, which lies in the traditional East Riding ofYorkshire. 100 90 --------::1""1""""------tl-=......-t

80-----

t----------

70 60--------H 50 40--IH

30 20 . 10 . 0

Me Me we WC

Me Me we we

Me Me we we

girls boys girls boys

girls boys girls boys

girls boys girls boys

Milton Keynes

Reading

Hull

~--~-8!~~-~i~or i!l~~~tf • ~J~l!()! _(~) L ~!J.~l'_~cJ.h1] nb: (th) = merger of /8/ and If! as [f) (db) merger of tlJI and /v/ as [v] medially and finally Me= 'middle class'

=

we = 'working class' Fipre 3. Percent use of non-prestige variants of three consonant variables in Milton Keynes. Reading and Hull (interview data).

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English

The two fricative mergers shown in Figure 3 have a history somewhat difmnt from that of t-glottalling. Figure 4 shows the use of [f) for /8/ in the -esponses to the SED questionnaire (there are too few occurrences of words rith /lJ/ for this variable to mapped out in this way- the normal pattern is for he two mergers to co-occur).3 Filled circles represent localities in which from ~to 7 tokens of [f) are found in items where [8] is expected (localities with no :okens or one token are not included). The size of the circles corresponds to he number of tokens. It is dear from the map that there are two separate focal areas for the spread of the change: an area around Bristol and another which ndudes London and the region to the north and east. On the assumption that

es

No. of attestations:

•

4

•

3

•

2

Unfilled circles show positions of Bristol and London. The map is taken from Orton (1962: 30), and shows SED localities.

Figure 4. Use of [f] in words in which [8] is expected. (Based on data from Survey oj English Dialects (1950-61), extracted by Oliveira Filho 1999.)

234

Paul Kerswill

innovations spread out from economically and culturally important centres, it is reasonable to suppose that the changes were established early in the two cities and subsequently spread out from them. In each case, the features seem to have spread out in a wave-like fashion. The change had not reached northern England by the time of the SED (if we ignore what must be a lexically determined use of [f) in the item sheiJth, which is found sporadically throughout the country). When did this change begin? The earliest mention appears to be Elphinston (1787), who, according to Wyld (1927:209) "speaks of a tendency for the 'low English' to say Redriphe for Rotherhithe and loph for loth'~ Interestingly, Wyld goes on to say: "At the present time this substitution appears to be rather a personal idiosyncrasy than a dialect feature, though it does appear to be very frequent in a rather low type of Cockney English, (cited in Beall999: 19; p.c.). Even by the early years of the 20th century the feature was not fully entrenched (Hurford 1967 and p.c.), and was not the widespread, possibly majority form it is now. However, there is evidence that it did spread quite rapidly in London speech during the 19th century. Matthews (1938:82-104) discusses the way in which London dialect ('Cockney') was represented in Victorian music-hall song lyrics. Among the lyrics given by Matthews, the relatively routine use of f and v for orthographic th begins with those dating from shortly after 1880. Clearly the stereotype was well established by this time, even if (as we have seen) it remained somewhat rare until well into the 20th century. From this we can very tentatively suggest that, from 18th century (or even earlier) beginnings, the use of [f) and [v] would have been reasonably common (or at least not highly idiosyncratic) by the generation born in about 1850. We do not know anything for certain about the position in Bristol. The geographical spread of the feature in the area surrounding Bristol was already considerable by the time of the SED fieldwork, and this suggests an early date. It is possible that the establishment in 1841 of good rail connections between London and Bristol, which was a large port city in the 19th century, facilitated the adoption of the feature from London before smaller towns and villages in the region. If this is the case, this is an example of the hierarchical diffusion of a feature. We return to this notion below. We now consider the subsequent spread of this feature. To investigate whether the introduction of the mergers proceeded in a geographically gradual manner, we can try to map the approximate birth dates of the age cohorts who were the first to use the innovations to a significant degree. By this, we mean that the features were used by a substantial minority of adults, and were

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English

therefore not idiosyncratic or a result of immature speech. Figure 5 gives this information in the form of years of birth which have been arrived at by an examination of published studies and BA and MA dissertations, as well as through personal approaches to linguists familiar with local speech.4 The date for Bristol was arrived at following the argumentation in the previous paragraph. It is clear that the spread proceeds from south to north and that (with the exception of Bristol) the eastern part of the country adopts the change before the western part. As with the SED data examined above, the distn"bution of years can be used to support, albeit tentatively, a hierarchical diffusion model (Trudgill1982b:72-78). This is most visible through a comparison of the dates for Derby, Wisbech and Norwich, three cities/towns that are approximately equidistant from London. The population figures for the three towns are as follows: Derby: 236,000 WISbech: 19,000 Norwich: 180,000

The order of adoption is as the model predicts: the dates for Derby and Norwich are similar, as are their populations. The much smaller town ofWJSbech follows considerably later. However, there is a striking sense in which the dates given in Figure 5 for the non-idiosyncratic introduction of th-fronting do not support a diffusion model The change seems to •hit• very large regions simultaneously, particularly the far north of England (including Newcastle and Durham) and the central belt of Scotland (represented by Glasgow) at about the same time. For Glasgow, Stuart-Smith and 1\veedie {2000: 10) show that working-class teenagers (aged 13-14 in 1999) used about 20% [f) for /9/ in conversations with a peer, while the feature was completely absent from the older group in their sample (aged 40 and above). In Newcastle, th-fronting was absent from a sample of people aged 15-27 in 1994 (Watt & Milroy 1999; Foulkes, p.c.; L. Milroy, p.c.). However, Will Allen (p.c. 2003) has provided data for 9-10-year-olds that demonstrate that the feature is used to some extent by most children and adolescents. In Durham, none of my 1983 cohort of seventeen 14-16-year-olds used th-fronting; however, 14-15-year-olds attending the same school in 2002 did use the feature to a considerable extent. Figure 6 shows the scores for Allen's 2000 and my 2002 data. Allen's sample comprises four girls and four boys aged 9 or 10 at a school in a mainly working-class catchment area in Newcastle. My sample is composed of eight girls and eight boys aged 14 or 15 attending a comprehensive school in a mainly working-class former mining village some

~35

_(sf

., ,.~

.

Wigan: absent

----·---,.·-

•Leigh: 1970

enerby: 1

.

... I

The size of the circles indicates the rmtive populations of each town/city ~

5. Spread of [f) for /9/ and [v] for /8/ in low-status urban varieties. Eal ofbirth of cohorts using the innovations occasionally but non-idiosyncratic

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English 7.37

4 ~--------------------------------3.5

3

• voiceless

2.5

• voiced

2 1.5

female age 9

male age 9

female age 15

male age 15

Newcastle

Newastle

Durham

Durham

Fipre 6. Rdention of [81 and [li 1for /8/ and /li/ in interviews and dyads in Newcastle and Durham (working-class subjects).

three miles from Durham City (though still within the city boundaries). Allen's recordings are of interviews with the children in pairs. My recordings involve single interviews (with a second adolescent present) as well as conversations between two adolescents and myself and between the two adolescents on their own. The scoring system is as follows: 1 =unequivocal [f) or [v) 4 =unequivocal [8) or [l~] 2 and 3 indicate auditorily intermediate perceptions; the choice between 2 and 3 forces the transcriber to make a decision as to phonemic category.

For both places, the pattern is broadly similar: the boys use th-fronting more than the girls; the boys use more fronting of rat than of /9/, while the girls show no such difference. It is clear from the available evidence that the feature is entering urban Newcastle and semi-rural Durham at the same time in the same way. As with the discussion of /e:l above, it is not possible to argue that the feature has diffused from Newcastle to Durham. It seems likely that, again as for the vowel feature, both diffusion (from the south; note that there is evidence that Middlesbrough adopted the feature some years before Durham or Newcastle) and levelling seem to be likely mechanisms for the change. Unlike the case with the vowel, this is a feature that is spreading throughout Britain: a possible scenario for this spread is that, once the feature is adopted by a crit-

2311 Paul Kerswill

ical mass of people, perhaps simultaneously in more than one location within a region, it can spread to the remainder of the population by a process of both levelling and diffusion.

Rqional dialect levelling and reponal identities Uamas (2000, 2001) expands Watt's (2000, 2002) and L Milroy's (2002) discussion of dialect levelling in the North East by focusing on regional identity in Middlesbrougb, a town some fifty miles south of Newcastle. llamas's results are extremely interesting in the context of those from Durham. Middlesbrough speakers are inaeasingly taking on features from the 'Geordie heartland' ofTyneside (including Newcastle), in particular the glottal reinforcement of intervocalic /p/ ([ip ]). At the same time, speakers are adopting th-fronting as a response to 'image-consciousness": this is a marker of 'youth norms~ Interestingly, it is the young adults who adopt it, not the teenagers (llamas 2001: 19-22). It is a pattern that distinguishes Middlesbrough from Newcastle. Uamas finds that speakers are highly negative in their attitude to Newcastle speech: "The large majority of the speakers from the combined young group ... claimed that they would object to being mistaken for a Geordie, with many professing a strong dislike of the Geordie accent• (2000: 140). On the face of it, this attitude is not consistent with the general convergence of the dialect towards that ofTyneside, Wearside and Durham (144). She argues that the increasing use of Tyneside variants in Middlesbrough does not imply an identification with Tyneside, but rather an indexation ofMiddlesbrough identity (143), with people feeling 'northeastern~ but from Middlesbrough. This is to be seen in the context of changes in local government over the past 40 years, which has seen Middlesbrough dislocated from Yorkshire to the south and more closely aligned with '!yneside. All sixteen Durham teenagers interviewed in 2002 stated that they did not mind being labelled 'Geordies~ The attitudes were almost all positive, with comments that the Newcastle accent was 'stronger', 'broader~ and even, 'It's good, aye!'. They reported, however, that they could easily tell the difference between Newcastle and Durham speech. The teenagers said there was no rivalry between Durham and Newcastle, rivalry being reserved for supporters of Newcastle vs. Sunderland football teams (Sunderland is a large city to the immediate southeast of Newcastle). The Durham teenagers were evenly divided in their support for these two teams.

Dia1ec:t levellins and geographical dift'usion in British EngUsh 2.39

The differences in the convergence patterns between Durham and Tyneside, on the one hand, and between Middlesbrough and Tyneside, on the other, can be seen in terms ofthis very marked attitudinal dift'erence.The two changes we have noted for Durham and Tyneside are, practically speaking, identical in time, social distribution and phonetic detail in both places. This is not surprising, given the close ties between the cities in terms of work and leisure. Attitudinally, Durham speakers do not particularly distinguish themselves from the Geordies, while recognising (in some cases regretting) that they are not quite 'real' Geordies. A completely different pattern pertains in Middlesbrough. At.titudinally, the situation is highly complex and changing; the most marked feature is hostility towards Tyneside, not matched by the ongoing linguistic convergence towards Tyneside. Contrary to this convergence is the fact that th&onting was taken up somewhat earlier than in the more northerly cities, and this can be linked to Middlesbrough speakers' wish to distinguish themselves &om Tyneside. Local identities in Middlesbrough are apparently not a brake on th-&onting, while this seems seem to been the case (until very recently) in Tyneside and Durham. That the northeast is a "region' is backed up by the dialectological evidence presented here. Added to this is the intensity of contact within the region, perhaps mirrored in the positive attitudes of people in Durham towards those on Tyneside. Middlesbrough has shifted &om being self-identified as 'Yorkshire' to having a rather ambivalent orientation towards the northeast. Middlesbrough now lies at the very periphery of this region, as is shown by the presence of some linguistic convergence which is, nevertheless, not mirrored by positive attitudes towards Tyneside.

Conclusion The overall picture supports the view that regional dialect levelling is widespread in Britain. Few researchers have been able to demonstrate its opposite -divergence or diversification - in local varieties; perhaps the best described example is the spirantisation of stops in Liverpool (see Sangster 2001 for a recent discussion). A focus on the processes behind regional dialect levelling shows that both geographical diffusion and the accommodation-based process of 'levelling' must be taken into account. I have argued that levelling, by this latter definition, can only apply in its 'pure' form in cases where there is high mobility within a relatively compact area (for example, a new town, but also a region

240 Paul Kerswill

like the northeast or, perhaps, the southeast), with a consequent high probability that individuals will have mntact with others throughout the area. This potential for contact dearly has a social-psychological counterpart, as emerged in the discussion of the northeast. The levelling mechanism is unlikely a priori to apply over a large and demographically mmplex area, such as Great Britain. Here, we must suppose other things, especially media influences, being equal- that geographical diffusion is the more likely mechanism. The dialectological data presented here overwhelmingly supports the position that what we have called 'regional dialect levelling' is the result both of diffusion and oflevelling. What appears to be an entirely new phenomenon is the great rapidity of the spread. It is hard to ascribe this solely to any increase in mobility; instead, we may well have to look to the spoken media as a factor which makes speakers more positively disposed towards the incoming forms they hear from the people they meet. As will be clear from this discussion, mechanisms are not explanations in themselves. For these, we need to look at a range of non-linguistic factors. 'Natural' factors can predict the direction of a change spread through contact, such as th-fronting in Britain (the change involves a merger, with the typologically more marked form, the dental &icative, being lost}. Non-linguistic factors, especially mntact between speakers and social-psychological factors arising from that contact, determine the rate and social patterning of the spread. In some cases, non-linguistic factors override naturalness altogether, as we saw with the vowel shift in Reading.

Notes In common with what is now cunmt practic:e, I use Wells' (1982) mnemonic system to identify laical sets containins the 'same' vowel. In this system, this set is represented as PACE.

1.

2.

The analysa were carried out uains SIL Speech Analyzer.

3- I would like to thank Clive Upton for drawins my attention to the MA dissertation of Oliveira Filho (1999). In it, mponses to SED headwords containins /8/ and /fJ/ are 1istM with a view to findins the distribution of these mergers in (mainly) rural dialects in the 1950s and '60s.

4- I would like to acknowledse information pn to me by the foUowins people, thoush I of course remain solely responsible for the interpretation of that information: Will Allen, Martin Bury, Joan Beal, David Britain, N'lkolas Coupland, Paul Foulka, Jim Hurford, Carmen llamas, Jonathan Marshall, Clare McCann, Lesley Milroy, Catherine Sanpter, Jane Stuart-Smith, Peter 'liuctpl, Anna Thmer, Clive Upton, Dom Watt and Ann Williams.

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English 241

References Andrisen. B.S. (1968). Pre-glolttllization in English Standtud Pronunciation. Oslo: Norwe-

gian Universities Press. Beal, J. (1999). Pronunciation in the Eighteenth Century: ThomllS Spence's 'Grand Repository of the English lAnguage' (1775). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bloomfield, L. (1933). lAnguage. New York: HolL Britain, D. (1997a). Dialect oontact, focusing and phonological rule oomplexity: the koineisation of Penland English. In C. Boberg, M. Meyerhoff, & S. Strassel (Eds.), A Selection ofPapers from NWAVE 25 (pp. 141-170). University of Pennsylvania Press. Britain, D. (1997b). Dialect oontact and phonological reallocation: 'Canadian Raising' in the English Fens. lAnguage in Society. 26, 15-46. Britain, D. (2002). Space and spatial diffusion. In ). K. Chambers, P. 'frudgill, & N. Scbilling· Estes (Eds.), The Handbook oflAnguage Variation and Ottmge (pp. 603-637). Oxford: Blackwell. Champion, A. & Coombes, M. (1983). Functional regions: definitions, applications advantages. Factsbeet 1. Newcastle: Centre for Urban and Regional Development Studies, University of Newcastle. Champion, A. & Darling. D. (1994). Population change for Britain's functional regions 1951-91. Population Trends, 77, 14-23. Cheshire, J. (2002). Sex and gender in variation research. In J. K. Chambers, P. liudgill. & N. Schilling-Estes (Eds.), The Harulbook of lAnguage Variation and Otange (pp. 423443). Oxford: Blackwell. Cheshire, J., Edwards, V., & Whittle, P. ( 1989 ). Urban British dialect grammar: the question of dialect leftlling. English World Wule. 10, 185-225. Also in J. Milroy & L. Milroy (1993) (Eds.), Rem English: The Grammar of English Dialects in the British Isles (pp. 54-96). London: Longman. Elphinston, ). (1787). Propriety Ascertained in Her Picture Vol H. [check ref.] Foulkes, P. & Docherty, G. (Eds.). (1999). Urban Voices: Accent Studies in the British Isles. London: Edward Arnold. Foulkes, P. & Docherty, G. (2000). Another chapter in the story of /r/: 'labiodental' variants in British English. Journal ofSociolinguistics, 4, 30-59. Giles, H. & Powesland, P. (1997). Accommodation theory. InN. Coupland & A. Jaworski (Eds.), Sociolinguistics: A reader (pp. 232-239). Basingstoke: Macmillan (Reprinted &om H. Giles & P. Powesland, P. (1975). Speech Style and Social Evaluation, 154-170. London: Academic Press.) Gumperz. J. J. (1996). Introduction to Part Iv. In J. J. Gumperz & S.C. Levinson (Eds.), Rethinking Linguistic Relativity (pp. 359-373). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hurford, J. R. (1967). The Speech of One Family: A Phonetic Comparison of the Speech of three Generations in a Family of East Londoners. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of London. lWswill, P. E. (1984). Social and linguistic aspects of Durham (e:). Journal of the Intem11tional Plumetic Association. 14, 13-34.

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Kerswill, P. E. (2002). Koineization and accommodation. In J. K. Chambers, P.lhldgill. & N. Schilling-Estes (Eds.), The Handbook of Language Variation and Change (pp. 669702). Oxford: Blackwell Kerswill, P. E. & Williams, A. (2000a). Creating a new town koine: children and language change in Milton Keynes. Language in Society. 29( 1), 65-115. Kerswill, P. E. & Williams, A. (2000b). Mobility and social class in dialect Jeva1ing: evidence from new and old towns in England. In K. Mattheier (Ed.), Dialect and Migration in a Changing EIII'Dpe (pp. 1-13). Frankfurt: Peter Lang. Labov, W. (1966). The Social Stratification of English in New York City. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics. Uamas, C. (2000). Middlesbrough English: Convergent and divergent trends in a 'part of Britain with no identity'. Leeds Working Papers in Linguistics, 8, 123-148. Uamas, C. (2001). The sociolinguistic pro61ing of(r) in Middlesbrough English. In R Van de Velde & R. van Hout (Eds.), 'r-atics: Sociolinguistic, Phonetic, and Phonological Chartftteristics of /r/ (pp. 123-139). Etudes 6- Thwaux. lnstitut des Langues VMllltes et de Phonetique, Universite Libre de Bruxelles. Macaulay, R. K. S. (1977). Language. Social Qass and Education: A Glasgow Study. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Matthews, W. (1938). Coclmey Past and Present A Short History of the Dialect of London. London: George Routledge. Mees. I. M. (1987). Glottal stop as a prestigious feature in CMdiff English. English WorldWrde, S. 25-39. Milroy,}., Milroy, L, & Hartley, S. (1994). Local and supra-local change in British English· the case of glottalisation. English World- Wule, 15, 1-33. Milroy,}., Milroy, L. Hartley, S., & Walshaw, D. (1994). Glottal stops and lfneside glottalization: competins patterns of variation and change in British English. Language Variation and Change, 6, 327-358. Milroy, L (1980). Language and Social Networlcs. Oxford: Blackwell. Milroy, L (2002). Introduction: mobility, contact and lansuage change- working with contemporary speech communities. Journal of Sociolinguistics, 6, 3-15. Oliveira Filho, M. C. de (1999). An inquiry into the incidence and perceptions of English TH-frontins. Unpublished MA dissertation, School of English, University of Leeds. Orton, H. ( 1962). Survey of English Dialem: Introduction. leeds: E. J. Arnold. Patrick. P. L (2002). The speech community. In }. K. CJwnbers. P. 'lhldgill. & N. SchillingEstes (Eels.), 71ae Harulbook of Language Variation and C1Jange (pp. 573-597). Oxford: Blackwell. Reid, E. (1978). Social and stylistic variation in the speech of children: some evidence from Edinburgh. In P.lhldgill (Ed.), SocioUnguistic Patterns in British English (pp. 158-171). London: Edward Arnold. Romaine. S. (1978). Post-wcalic /r/ in Scottish English: sound change in progress? In P. '1h1dgill (Ed.), SocioUnguistic Patterns in British English (pp. 144-158). London: Edwald Arnold.

Sandey, R (1998). The diffusion of a new morphology in Norwegian dialects. Folia Linguistic~~. 32, 83-100.

Dialect levelling and geographical diffusion in British English 243 Sangster, C. (2001). Lenition of alveolar stops in Liverpool English. Journtll of SociolinguUtUs,5,401-412. Siegel, }. (1987). Langu4ge Contact in a Plantation Environment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Siegel, }. (2001). .Koine formation and creole genesis. InN. Smith & T. Veenstra (Eds.), enolization and Conflict (pp. 17S-197). Amstenlam: John Benjamins. Stuart-Smith, }. & Tweedie, F. (2000). Accent change in Glaswegian: a sociophonetic investigation. Final report submitted to the Leverhulme Trust. Torgersen, E. N. & Kerswill, P. (2002). Acoustic metlSUmnents ofsome vowels in south-astern British English -further evidence for chain shifting and ditllect levelling. Paper given at Methods in Dialectology XI, Joensuu, Finland, 6th August 2002. Torgersen, E. N. & Kerswill, P. (in prep.). Internal and external motivation in phonetic change: dialect levelling outcomes for an English vowel shift. Watt, D. (2000). Phonetic parallels between the dose-mid vowels of"I)'neside English: Are they intemallyor externally motivated? Language Variation arrd Change. 12,69-101. Watt, D. (2002). 'I dont speak with a Geordie accent, I speak, like, the Northern accent': contact-induced levelling in the Tyneside vowel system. Journal of Sociolinguistics, 6, 44-63.

Watt, D. & Milroy, L (1999). Patterns of variation and change in three Newcastle vowels: is this dialect levelling? In P. Foulkes & G. Docherty (Eels.), Urban Voices (pp. 2S-46). London: Arnold Wells. J. C. ( 1982). Acants of English {3 volumes). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Williams, A. & Kerswill, P. ( 1999). Dialect levelling: change and continuity in Milton Keynes, Reading and Hull. In P. Foulkes & G. Docherty (Eels.), Urban Voices (pp. 141-162). London: Arnold. Wyld, H. C. ( 1927). A Short History ofEnglish. London: John Murray.

Social dimensions of syntactic variation The case of when clauses Jenny Cheshire Queen Mary, University of london

Introduction Peter Trudgill and Jack Chambers hoped that their 1991 volume on grammatical variation in English dialects would stimulate further research into the grammar of nonstandard dialects and the nature of grammatical variation in language (1991a:295-296). Since the publication of that volume there has been a good deal more research on these topics, from theoretical linguists as well as sociolinguists, and even from a collaboration between the two (for example, Wilson & Henry 1998). Mainly, however, researchers have focused on language-internal constraints on variation, and the social dimension of grammatical variation has remained less studied. It has been argued, in fact, that syntactic variation is conditioned less by social factors than by internal, cognitive and situational constraints {see, for example, Ryden 1991; Scherre & Naro 1992), and that syntactic variation may rarely, if ever, serve the function of distinguishing social groups in the way that 'classic' phonological and morphological variants do (Wmford 1996: 188; Hudson 1996:45). One reason for this would be the infrequency of syntactic forms relative to phonological or morphological variants: since syntactic variants are less frequently heard, they are presumably less likely to become associated with a specific social group and to function as sociolinguistic indicators or markers. But until we have dear evidence of the social patterning of syntactic variants in different communities, or the lack of such patterning, we cannot draw any firm conclusions about the relationship between syntactic variation and the social world. Discovering the social dimension of syntactic variation is, of course, less straightforward than for phonological and morphological variation. There are

~

Jenny Cheshire

several methodological and conceptual problems, some of which are mentioned by 'Ihldgill and Chambers, as we will see. In this paper I focus on some of these problems, suggesting the kinds of methodological procedures that might help resolve them. I will use as illustrative material an analysis of one type of clause found in conversations between 12-16-year-old workingclass adolescents in Reading, Berkshire, recorded in adventure playgrounds during a nine-month period of participant observation. 1 This analysis will show that syntactic variation can be intricately involved in the construction of social meaning, but that the involvement is of a different kind from that of phonological and morphosyntactic variation.

Lone when clauses An initial difficulty in the analysis of syntactic variation lies in deciding what to analyse, as grammatical variants often evade the conscious awareness of speakers and listeners. Chambers and 'Ihldgill ( 1991) point out that they are less easily disassociated from the discourse than phonological variants and are not readily subject to paralinguistic comments or observations. Furthermore. contextual cues, felicity conditions and implicatures disguise (or perhaps compensate for) unusual syntactic structures in a conversation, whether those structures are the result of performance factors (fidse starts, ellipses, blends) or dialect differences. (p. 292)

The clause type that I will discuss in this paper seems a dear example of an unusual syntactic structure that may be overlooked. I did not notice it until I had decided to focus specifically on the clause structures used by the adolescent speakers. For this analysis it was necessary to work closely with the transcripts of the playground conversations, identifying every instance of a noncanonical clause, including any that could be attributed to performance factors. One such non-canonical clause is an adverbial clause introduced by when, with no accompanying main clause. I will refer to these clauses as lone when clauses. Extract 1 provides one illustration: other examples are given later in the chapter.

Social dimensions of syntactic variation 247

Extract 1 (the boys are tallcing about one of their teachers, who was married to someone I knew)

-+

Nobby: Rob: Jenny: Nobby: Rob: Jenny: Nobby:

yeah Miss Tbreadgold she ain't bad yeah she . she went camping with us yes he told me she'd been camping when we went camping she's a good laugh is she? yeah

There are 28 lone when clauses in this data set - not many, but enough for them not to be attributable to performance factors. Interestingly, this figure represents a far higher proportion of unaccompanied when clauses than the literature would lead us to expect. Lone when clauses account for 25 per cent of all when clauses in the playground conversations: there are 105 when clauses in total, 77 of which have an accompanying main clause. By comparison, in Ford's corpus of adverbial clauses in American English (see Ford 1993) only 3 per cent of the total number of temporal adverbial clauses had no main clause (there were only 2, in 63 temporal clauses). Furthermore, in Ford's data temporal clauses were the least likely to occur with no main clause: conditional clauses were the most frequent, although even so there were only 8 of these ( 15 per cent), from a total of 52 conditional clauses. Similarly, Mondorf's analysis (2000) of adverbial clauses in the London-Lund corpus found only 6 per cent of adverbial clauses with no main clause (259, out of 4462 clauses); again, these were mainly conditional clauses. The temporal clauses in Ford's study were introduced with a range of time adverbs, of which when was just one (Mondor£ did not analyse temporal clauses). The frequency of lone when clauses in the Reading data set, then, marks them as an unusual phenomenon that is worth further analysis.

Explicatory lone when clauses The next step in the analysis was to identify the discourse functions of the lone when clauses. Four of them were used to explain something that had been mentioned in the previous discourse. In Extract 2, for example, the discussion is about the excursions that the playground leader, Sue, organises. Mandy has

248 Jenny Cheshire

trouble finding the word to desaibe the destination of the next excursion, and she finally explains what she is referring to with her when clause. Extract2 Terry: Jenny: Terry: Mandy: Paul: Mandy: Jenny: -+ Mandy:

Jenny: Mandy:

Sue's given lots of outings •.. first one was Chessington Zoo was it good~ yeah next one is the ludo thing ain't it not a Iucio judo judo~

not a judo! when JOU're on a water shoot and you go right in the ... er water .. you goes right down into the water like a water shoot thing~ }'a

Similarly, in Extract 3 Rob explains, in response to a question, how Britt (another playground leader) tries to control her mind, providing a time frame for a specific situation that illustrates what she does:

Extract 3 and Britt she•s queer = = she's trying to learn to control her mind Nobby: =yeah= Rob: whatever that means Jenny: is she~ Rob: [yeah Nobby: [yeah Jenny: oh how is she going to what is she doing to con Nobby: I don•t know -+ Rob: when you look at smoke and that you know fire = Jenny: =yeah Nobby: she looks at a flame she•s . you can look at . she•s trying to look at a flame until it burns right out Jenny: and then w. how does that control your mind~ Rob: I don't know Rob:

This interactional function of the lone when clauses corresponds in some respects to a function that has been previously noted for initial adverbial temporal clauses. Ford (1993:29, 32), for example, notes that initial when clauses can explicate a semantically broad term such as thing or then. In her data, how-

Social dimensions of syntactic variation 249

ever, the explication occurs within an extended speaker turn; she argues, in fact, that the use of the semantically broad terms contributes to the projection of extended turns. In the Reading data, the four lone when clauses are explicatory but they do not project an extended turn. Instead, they clarify a term that the emerging discourse shows to be ambiguous, too vague for present purposes, or otherwise problematic. They occur in response to a question from another speaker, and the turn in which they occur is typically short, as are the subsequent turns. It is not only the lone when clauses that are used in this way: initial when clauses sometimes serve this purpose too, as in Ford's corpus. Initial when clauses with this function, though, bear a superficial resemblance to lone when clauses, since they are separated from their main clause by intervening speaker turns. For example, in Extract 4, the when clause explicates the ambiguity of Sharon's pronominal referent she. Extmct4

~

Julie: Sharon: Jenny: Sharon: Jenny: Julie:

oh don't kick her Tina! did she hun? who? that little one? no her ... when she kicked you oh her .. not very hard that's what she's always doing ... kicking everyone

Julie had told her younger sister Tina (too late!) not to kick me. I had not heard her say this and as I had previously needed to safeguard the tape recorder from a small child who tripped and fell on me as she was running past, I thought Sharon's question did she hurt might refer to that event. Sharon's when she kicked you then makes it clear that her question was about Tracy's kick. Thus the sequence can be seen as did she hurt when she kidced you, with the when clause separated from the main clause by my intervening turn, in which I show that I had not understood who Sharon's she referred to. The function of the when clause is to explicate the ambiguity: Sharon clarifies the referent with no her and then provides further clarification by indicating the specific time frame with the when clause. Extract 5 provides a further example. Here Nick corrects my assumption that the shop he had previously mentioned was in Reading, adding when I went down town to what can be analysed as the main clause it was in his previous turn. The when clause gives precision, then, to the vague quite a long way.

250 Jenny Chesbin!

Extract 5

~

Jenny: which shop was that? Nick: oh it was quite a long way Jenny: in Reading was it or ... Nick: no when I went downtown

Pivotal lone when clauses The remaining 22 lone when clauses have a different function: and unlike the explicatory lone when clauses they initiate an extended turn, usually a narrative of personal experience. There is an example of this in Extract 6, from a conversation between two girls, Valerie and Christine, and one boy, Tommy:

Extract6 Jenny: All: Jenny: Valerie: Christine: Valerie: Christine: ~Tommy:

Valerie: Tommy:

you have to do horrible jobs if you're a nurse .. all the bed pans have you ever been in hospital? [I have [oh yeah I have

I got run over by a car I fell off a gate backwards and I was unconscious oi when I .. when I went in hospital just for a little while ... sshh cos my sister and my cousin they bent my arm .. they twisted it right round

Here a discussion about nursing as a possible career prompted me to ask whether any of the friends had ever been in hospital. Valerie and Christine each take brief turns to mention one occasion when they were taken to hospital. Tommy also mentions an occasion when he went to hospital, but he prefaces this with a lone when clause (also with an attention-getting oi!). The other speakers interpret this as an indication that he intends to take an extended turn, as we see from the fact that Valerie compliantly tells her younger sister to be quiet; and Tommy goes on to tell the story of his stay in hospital Lone when clauses were also used to initiate and mark a sequence of 'joint remembering' (see Edwards & Middleton 1986), where two or more friends go over scenes from a favourite TV show or film that they have all seen. Here they sometimes project an extended turn in which a single speaker talks about a

Social dimensions of syntactic variation 251

specific part of the film; often, however, they initiate a stretch of ro-constructed talk where the speaken together relive their enjoyment of the event. Extract 7 illustrates this: it is part of a long sequence where four friends are discussing The Hunchback of Notre Dame, a film that had been shown on television recently (this extract is discussed in more detail in Cheshire 2000). The short extract rontains three lone when clauses, all of which nominate a specific section of the film that the speaker has enjoyed. The first nomination, from Johnny, is successful, as the following turns in the conversation show. Darren's bid is not at first successful: he stumbles momentarily, and the floor is immediately taken by Patsy, who proposes a different topic. Her topic is not taken up by the other speakers, however - Nicky, in fact, shows that he does not think much of this episode- and Darren seizes the opportunity to continue recounting his favourite scene, adding detail to increase speaker and hearer involvement and to justify the telling.

Extract7 -+

-+ -+

Patsy: I thought he was gonna fall when he was treading on the em er edge = and he Johnny: when he was on them bloody bells swinging about = Patsy: =yeah= knocked .. and he knocked his master down didn't he from the galleries ... woo crash! Darren: when he was gonna em when he told that girl he was deaf .. he got deaf Patsy: by the ... that bell = =I know Nicky: =but he was still there = Jenny: was that on the telly? AD: yeah Darren: I saw it in colour .. you could really see the blood Patsy: [Darren... don't put me off Nicky: [I was gonna see it again Darren: and I see this blood went s!!!!!!2. all come out .. I see it all come out of his mouth Nicky: it was horrible

Again, the function of these lone when clauses corresponds to an interactional function of adverbial clauses in initial position: they form pivotal points in the development of talk, project an extended turn and present explicit background for material that follows (Ford 1993:62). Initial when clauses can also have this function in the Reading conversations, as will be seen later in Extract 8. Thus, as

252

Jenny Cheshire

with the explicatory lone when clauses, the function of what I will term pivotal lone when clauses is shared by conventional adverbial when clauses. It is interesting that the lone when clauses in the Reading conversations correspond in their functions to what other researchers have noted for initial temporal clauses, but the fact that there are so many unaccompanied when clauses in the Reading conversations is puzzling. There is, in fact, an important difference between the lone when clauses in the Reading conversations and the unaccompanied adverbial clauses attested elsewhere: in other studies it is often possible to infer a main clause from the context in which the unaccompanied adverbial clauses occur, but it is rarely possible to unambigously do so for the pivotal lone when clauses (what, for example, could be inferred as the main clause for the when clauses in Extracts 6 and 7?).

Social variation A simple breakdown in terms of the gender of the speakers who use lone when clauses points to a further unexpected phenomenon: as Table 1 shows, pivotal lone when clauses are used far more &equendy by male speakers than female speakers. The numbers of tokens of explicatory lone when clauses are too low for conclusions to be drawn about their social distribution; and nothing further will be said about this. The next stage in the analysis was to listen to all the lone when clauses in the audio recordings. This revealed that pivotal lone when clauses are distinguished from explicatory lone when clauses and, indeed, &om all other when clauses, by a characteristic intonation contour. They are distinct in having level tones on every syllable except the last: this has a falling tone, and is slightly drawled. Pivotal lone when clauses, then, ditfer in form from the other when clauses in the data set, both in their lack of a main clause and in their characterisTable 1. Lone when clauses used by male and female speakers in the playground conversations totals pivotal lone when clauses explicatory lone when clauses

91.7

22

8.3

totals

89.3

3 25

10.7

• Numbers of tokens are too low for a percentage to be viable

2 1 3

24

4 28

Social dimensions ofsyntactic variation 253

tic intonation; yet their interactional function appears to be no different from that of conventional initial when clauses (and of initial temporal clauses introduced by other temporal conjunctions). They seem, then, to be candidates for a variationist analysis. We could set up a sociolinguistic variable for which one variant would be pivotal lone when clauses, and another would be initial when clauses with an accompanying main clause and the same interactional function. Pivotal lone when clauses could then be seen as sociolinguistic indicators, used in these groups of friends almost exclusively by male speakers. If we further assume that the variants with a main clause are 'standard' forms and the pivotal lone when clauses are nonstandard (because they lack a main clause), we could then interpret the variation as a manifestation of the well-attested sociolinguistic gender pattern, where female speakers use more 'standard' forms. This would be consistent with research on American English that finds female speech less redundant than male speech and more syntactically elaborated though as Philips and Reynolds (1987: 92) point out, these findings need to be very carefully analysed and interpreted. Syntactic variation, we might then say, does distinguish social groups in the same way as classic phonological and morphological variables. This approach, however, ignores two major problems associated with the analysis of syntactic variation. First, it does not address the question of what is 'standard' in spoken English apart from what is prescriptively defined in this way (Milroy & Gordon 2002: 185). Prescriptivists have nothing to say about adverbial clauses without a main clause, perhaps because they are so infrequent that they are not noticed, or because they occur only in specific settings or with specific groups of speakers. Second, seeing lone when clauses as an altemant to conventional when clauses is not necessarily the most appropriate way to conceptualise the variation in which they are involved. In the analysis so far, I have been considering lone when clauses as adverbial clauses, in line with both Ford and Mondorf. But this relies on conventional frameworks of grammatical analysis, which are heavily influenced by the form of written language and may not, therefore, provide the most appropriate categories for forms that are typical of spoken language. The functions of the lone when clauses overlap with some that have been reported for initial adverbial clauses, as we have seen; but adverbial clauses are, by definition, part of a main clause (Biber et al. 1999: 194; Quirk et al. 1985: 1047). We can consider lone when clauses as part of a main clause only if we assume that a main clause is ellipted, but it would require a large stretch of the imagination to see pivotal lone when clauses in this way. There are no other grammatical frameworks that can suggest alternative ways of conceptualising the variation. A way forward, however, is to look not

254 Jenny Chesbin!

merely at the form and the interactional function of the lone when clause but also at the content of the clause, to see what kind of events are nominated as topics. We have already seen that sometimes the event is part of a film or TV show that the speakers have all seen and enjoyed: in the extended turn that follows the speakers, through their talk, relive their enjoyment. Examining the content of the narratives of personal experience introduced by lone when clauses showed that here, too, the narratives are often about events that are familiar to the other speakers, either because the story is one that they have heard before, or because they also took part in the events. This is clear from Extract 8, where Jeff's you know indicates that this is a familiar story (as does Alec's response); the story opener is a pivotal lone when clause uttered with the characteristic intonation (with a falling tone on Wrght).

ExtractS -+ Jeff: when we went to the Isle ofW~ght though [you know [fucking hell he fell in

Alec:

loads of stinging nettles = oh God oh God" Jeff:

= and the way he cried mate "oh God

=yes=

Narratives of this kind, therefore, are also a form of joint reminiscing. The question that needs to be answered now, then, is why male adolescents should use lone when clauses in this way while female speakers do not In other words, does the lone when clause function simply as a sociolinguistic indicator, indexing the fact that the speaker is male, or does it indicate that male speakers in the adventure playgrounds propose familiar topics for their narratives or initiate sequences of joint remembering more frequently than female speakers do? If so, what do the male speakers accomplish through this aspect of their talk? Further, is this something that the female speakers do not do at all, or something that they accomplish using different linguistic means? These questions take us a long way from the analysis of syntactic variation, for it now becomes necessary to explore the narrative sequences that occur in the conversations. It is necessary, however, to follow this trail in order to discover why the gender difference might exist.

Social dimensions of syntactic variation 2.55

Narrative analysis The narrative analysis that I carried out is reported in Cheshire (2000). I will mention here only the points that are relevant to an understanding of the variation in which the lone when clauses are involved. Analysing all the narratives in the corpus would have taken more time than was available, so it was necessary to be selective. Several of the lone when clauses used to introduce a narrative or reminiscence came from conversations where there were several boys talking to each other, so I chose for detailed analysis the three all-male conversations with the highest number of narratives and, similarly, the three all-female conversations where the most narratives were told. I isolated all the narrative sections in these conversations, using Labov's definition of a minimal narrative as consisting of at least two temporally ordered clauses following the order in which the real world events could be inferred to have taken place (Labov 1972:360-361). Very few of the narratives in the conversations were as short as just two clauses, however. This gave a total of 124 narratives- 58 from female speakers and 64 from male speakers. A consistent characteristic of the narratives told in the male friendship groups was a concern to create a sense of group identity through the telling of a story. This was shown especially by central members of the friendship groups. In their monologues they explicitly marked their stories as familiar to the other speakers by addressing them by name in tags (for example, Nobby says I was pushing my granny and I bit my tongue in half didn't I Ben), and they enoouraged their friends to tell stories of their own about events that were known to them all. A high proportion of the boys' narratives was co-constructed, though often the nature of the co-narration prevented a coherent tale from being told. This was because many of the contributions from individual speakers were insuhs, contradictions, interruptions and other attempts to seize the floor. The pace of speech was fast, and all the speakers seemed to be enjoying themselves: it seemed to be less important for speakers to secure the floor and recount their story than to participate in group talk and the camaraderie it produces. The point of the contradictions was to show familiarity with the events being recounted rather than to challenge the speaker, as could be seen from the speakers' responses. Table 2 shows that 10 of the story openers used in the male conversations marked the story as a shared event about which they could jointly reminisce. Lone when clauses accounted for 5 of these story openers. In terms of their interactional function, then, these clauses can now be seen as one of a group of forms that propose a topic for a sequence of group talk. This group of story

256 Jenny Cheshire Table l. Story openers in the corpus of narntives All-Cemaleconwnations All-male comenations Tohl

Markers ofa shared reminilcence remember when clause what about dlllt tim~ when you brow when clause wlrataboutX pivotal lone when-clause 1am't forget thtlt time when TOTAL

0 0 0 1 0 0 1

1 2

1 0 5 1 10

1 2 I

1 5 I 11

Temporalaubonlillate clauses introduczd by: tmCf!

when tla~ other day onetime one.U., last tim~ yesterrlay TOTAL

Zero opener

Misc=ellaneoua clause right left dislocation tlaef'e WtiS X youbrowx you see

sa you should haw san x mat~ fudcme he's 11 bllsttlrd mate oh it's laombk it W&m't luUffun

Total of .U story openers

6 5 5 2 3 1

0 2 0 0 0 0 0

6

2

25

9

34

43

1 9 6 2 3 2 0 0 0 1 1

7

3 3 2 0 0 1 1 1 0 0

8 12 9 4 3

58

64

I 23

7 5

2 3 I I

I I 1 1

1 1 123

openers is used almost exclusively by the male speakers; there is just one token in the female narratives. 2 We thus gain a better understanding of why speakers use lone when clauses in their talk if we see the variation in this way than if we think merely in terms of the form of adverbial clauses: they are one linguistic reflex of the construe-

Social dimensions of syntactic variation 7.57

tion of friendship through talk in the male groups. As other researchers have observed, retelling familiar stories is a way of reinforcing group membership, allowing participants to relive common experiences and confirming a shared long-term bond (see, for example, Norrick 1997:211 ). Friendship was constructed more as a relationship between individuals in the female conversations, and as a result the style of telling was very different. Monologues predominated, and other speakers were only once drawn into the telling with a tag explicitly addressed to them. Those co-constructed narratives that did occur consisted of a series of contributions from individual speakers, with one girl's contribution building on the previous speaker's, and sometimes expanding on it. Contradictions and interruptions were rare, and when another speaker added to the narrative it was usually to contribute points of detail that the main speaker bad explicitly asked for. In all the female narratives, the speaking rights of the current speaker were respected and a coherent tale was told. Again, this was reflected in their choice of story openers: as Table 2 shows, 23 were conventional temporal adverbial clauses; their interactional function was to secure the floor by projecting an extended turn, whilst situating the event reported in the main clause within a specific time frame. Extract 9 provides an illustration. Here Julie answers my question about frightening events by beginning a story about a specific time when she and Valerie had been playing near the motorway (the M4) and had been frightened by a man who was following them. She begins her story with a conventional when clause, dependent on the main clause there was a man following us; her weren't he asks for confirmation, which her friend tries to provide, and together they establish the background information to the story. Once this has been done, Julie takes the floor and continues with her story.

Extract 9 Julie:

if ever anybody says to me your mum told me to c • c . bring you home in my car and if I didn't know this person I would say I would run •. or else I would knock at the nearest house

yes ..• good idea .•. has that ever happened to you? [no Valerie: [no not really -+ Julie: when we was down the M4 there was a man weren't he ... following us ..• I think it. .no wasn't he .. was following his wife .. weren't he? Jenny: Julie:

258 Jenny Cheshire

Valerie: I don't know .... the M4 ..•. Julie: down the em..when we crossed that bridge before . . . Tina we was with . . . he had his shoes off and I ... I walked along the ground [and I and I Valerie: oh yes! .. oh yes we was on the bridge ... do you know the bridge? Jenny: yes Valerie: do you know there's another one half way along? Jenny: I know Valerie: we was on that one Julie: and there was this fellow got out of his car and he was foUowing us all the way (narrative continues) Narratives with no story opener occurred more frequently in the boys" conversations, reflecting the fast pace of speech typical of these stretches of talk in the all-male conversations, which does not always allow for a story to be explicitly framed as such. The figures are given as 'zero forms• in Table 2. The remaining story openers listed in Table 2 reflect a range of strategies about which it is difficult to generalise. Some openers, notably existential constructions and clauses with left dislocation, seem to reflect production processes, allowing spealcers to place a new topic in the discourse before constructing a complete clause; others, including clause-final right, you know X (as in you know Annie) and you see, are presumably strategies that secure the involvement of the addressee (Chafe 1982). To summarize, the main point to emerge from this analysis was that the narratives told in the single-sex conversations were a way of constructing friendship, but friendship was accomplished differently by the male and the female speakers. The style of teUing adopted by the boys allowed them to situate themselves as a member ofa group, whereas the style used by the girls expressed a more individual identity and foregrounded relationships between individuals. The implications for our understanding of the construction of adolescent friendship through language is discussed in more detail in Cheshire (2000 ). The implication for our understanding of syntactic variation is that pivotal lone when clauses and initial adverbial when clauses cannot be analysed as a linguistic variable; we now see that in terms of their interactional function they are not different ways of doing the same thing.

Social dimensions of syntactic variation

Conclusions

We can now return to the question of whether syntactic variation distinguishes social groups in the way that phonological and morphological variants do. Trudgill (1982b: 161-168) draws an important distinction between two types of linguistic sex differences. One type concerns the variables typically analysed in sociolinguistic surveys: phonetic, phonological and morphological features. These, he concludes, concern differences in dialect and accent The other type are what he terms language use differences: these include "particular hesitation phenomena, particular syntactic devices (such as ellipsis and tag questions), and particular communicative and conversational sttategies" (p. 164). 'Ihldgill considers Brown's (1980) point that one reason for the existence of linguistic sex differences may be that women and men are trying to achieve different things through language; if this is so, "it will be the language use level that will be a reflection of these differences, since dialect and accent variants must be held to be socially different (but linguistically equivalent) ways of doing the same thing (p. 165 ). He does not go so far as to suggest that syntactic variation will always concern language use rather than dialect and accent differences; indeed, he has argued elsewhere for more research into the grammar of nonstandard dialects, as we saw at the beginning of this paper. What is important is distinguishing, as 'Ihldgill does, the two types of social differences. His discussion concerns sex differences, but the distinction is necessary for other types of social difference- for example, social class differences in accent and dialect, on the one hand, and in language use, on the other hand. I hope to have shown here some methodological procedures that can help us distinguish the two types of social difference. For example, syntactic forms are integral to the meanings that are constructed through talk, so the message conveyed by syntactic forms must be taken into full account when analysing syntactic variation (see also Chambers & 'Ihldgill1991:292). In addition, it is important to remember that spoken syntax has its own structure about which we should keep an open mind when deciding on the framework of analysis. It is worth stressing that lone when clauses have served simply as an illustration of these fundamental aspects of syntactic variation. In this case the gender difference in their use was evident from the outset - though trying to find an explanation for the difference took us a long way &om a simple analysis of the alternation of syntactic forms. However the social patterning of grammatical features may not always be so obvious. For example, Cheshire and Williams' (2002) analysis of, initially, existential there constructions, led to the discovery of unexpected gender differences in the use of terms referring to new informa-

~

26o Jenny Cheshire

tion in the discourse; the differences indicated a greater concern for the expression of propositional meaning on the part of male adolescents. Investigating the use of existential there constructions in their interactional context led to an investigation of a range of alternating clause structures as well as a number of lexical forms, prosodic forms, and performance features. Syntactic variants may distinguish social groups, then, but they do not do this in the same way as phonological or morphological variants do. They do not simply index membership in these groups; instead they may indicate deepseated differences in the way in which different social groups create their social worlds. These differences can be discovered, however, only by analysing syntactic variation within its full interactional context

Notes Neither the recordings nor my Ph.D. dissertation would have been completed without Peter 'frudgill's encouragement, advice, support and extreme patience and tolerance (even of aying babies). 1.

2. Mondorf found that unaccompanied main clauses (of all kinds) were used more frequently by female speakers in the London-Lund corpus, and we should not, of course, suppose that piwtallone when clauses would necessarily be used more frequently by male speakers in other communities. Internal constraints on syntactic variation may well be the same across different communities of speakers, but the social meaning of syntactic variants develops as a result of their use in different pragmatic and cultural contexts, which may not be the same for different groups of speakers.

1i'anscription conventions AD names aR pseudonyms = latching on overlapping speech short pause (not timed): longer pauses are indicated by more dots analysed as an exclamation f uttered with rising (question) intonation angled brackets indicate paralinguistic features, or give information about the articulation of underlined words (e.g. !him. )

Social dimensions of syntactic variation 261

References Biber, D., Johansson, S., Leech, G., Conrad, S., & Finegan, E. (1999). Longman Gramtn/.11' of Spoken and Written English. Harlow: Pearson Education Ltd. Brown, P. (1980). How and why women are more polite: some evidence from a Mayan community. In S. McConneii-Ginet, R. Borker, & N. Furman (Eds.), Women and Language in Literature and Society (pp. 111-136). New York: Praeger. Chafe, W. (1982). Intqration and involvement in speaking, writing. and oral literatures. In D. Tannen (Ed.), Spoken and Written Language: Exploring Orality turd Literacy (pp. 35-53). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Chambers, J. K. & TrudgiB, P. (1991). Dialect grammar: data and theory. In P. Trudgill & J. K. Chambers (Eds.), Dialtas of English: Studies in Grammatical Variation (pp. 291296). Harlow: Longman. Cheshire, J. (2000). The telling or the tale? Narratives and gender in adolescent friendship networks./ournal IfSociolinguistics, 4, 234-262. Cheshire, J. & Williams, A. (2002). Information structure in male and female adolescent talk. Journal of English Linguistics. 30, 217-238. Edwards, J. & Middleton, D. ( 1986). Joint remembering: constructing an account of shared experience through conversational discourse Discourse Processes, 9, 423-459. Ford, C. E. ( 1993 ). Grammar in Interaction: Adverbial Clauses in Ameriam English Convmations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hudson, R. A. (1996). Sociolinguistics (2nd edition). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Labov, W. ( 1972 ). Languap in the Inner City. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Milroy, L & Gordon, M. (2003). Sociolinguistics: Method and Interpretation. Malden, MA/Oxford: Blackwdl. Mondorf, B. (2000). Sex differences in English syntax. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, DilsseldorfUniwrsity. Norrick, N. R. (1997). Twice-told tales: collaborative narration of familiar stories. Langu4ge in Society. 26, 199-220. Philips, S. U. & Reynolds, A. (1987). The interaction of variable syntax and discourse structure in women's and men's speech. In S. U. Philips, S. Steele, & C. Tanz (Eels.), Language, Gender and Sex in Comparative Perspective (pp. 71-94). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Quirk, R., Greenbaum, S., Leech, G., & Svartvik. J. (1985). A Grammar of Contemporary English. Harlow: Longman. Ryden, M. (1991). The bdluwe variation with intransitiws in its crucial phases. In D. Kastovsky(Ed.), Historical English Syntmc (pp. 343-354). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Sc:herre. M. M.P. S. & Naro, A.). (1992). The serial effect on internal and external variables. Langu4ge Variation and Change, 4, 1-14. Wdson, J. & Henry, A. ( 1998 ). Parameter setting in a socially realistic linguistics. Language in Society. 27, 1-21. Wmford, D. (1996). The problem of syntactic variation. In J. Arnold, R. Blake, B. Davidson, S. Schwenter, & J. Solomon (Eds.), Sociolinguistic Variation: Data, Theory, and Analysis (pp. 177-192). Stanford: CSU Publications.

Language variation in Greece* Maria Sifianou

Introduction Language issues in Greece have been closely associated with ethnic identity. As such, they have been ideologically and emotionally charged to the extent of provoking heated debates and even sanctions (in the not very distant past). This is immediately evidenced in the long history of diglossia. an issue which has divided Greek scholars and non-scholars a1ilce and underlies views and attitudes on regional and social variation. For a long time, dialect research on Greek was fragmentary and limited as it came to the fore to support or refute diglossia positions.1 This chapter will outline the current state of Greek dialect research mnsidering also its historical background. In agreement with other scholars, I will argue that the diachronic orientation of most dialect studies until recently and the concomitant scarcity of research on synchronic variation reflect anxiety about providing evidence that the roots of the language (and of the nation in general) lie in a celebrated past. Thus, claims of a unified and unique language (given also its Abstand status, see 'Ihldgilll992e and 2002a) were easier to support. However, the profound socio-political changes that followed the downfall of the military regime (1974), including the demotion of the High variety, brought a breath of fresh air to the development of linguistic research, and various projects on all aspects of Greek are currently flourishing. In what follows, I will first briefly present the issue of diglossia and then proceed with regional and social variation.

264 Maria Sifianou

Greek diglossia Greek is among the classic examples of diglossia discussed by Ferguson (1959), with Katharevousa ("purified language') as the High variety and Demotilci ('people's language') as the Low one, a phenomenon that existed for centuries (see e.g. Babiniotis 1998; Christidis 1999). At the beginning of the 19th century, the newly established independent Greek nation had to decide on its official language. Various conflicting views, known as y..\wO'O'trc6litnlfl« 'the language question~ reflected the controversial ideologies which existed even before the uprising (1821). This was essentially a deeply socio-political issue that surfaced in controversies on the form of the language to be adopted. The adoption of the ancestors' language had considerable support from both Greeks and foreigners, who claimed that "a Greek cultural rebirth was possible only through a return to Ancient Greek language and culture" (in Mackridge 1985:7). The creation ofKatharevousa was a compromise between adopting Ancient Greek and a living, "unpurified" spoken language, Demotiki. Katharevousa was a largely artificial language created rather haphazardly on the basis of the structure of the spoken medium which was "purified" by rejecting Turkish loans and extreme dialectal features but including archaisms and neologisms (see e.g., Browning 1983; Jahr & Trudgilll993; Christidis 1999). At the same time, a new variety of Greek was developing on the basis of the varieties spoken in the Peloponnese, which was among the first regions to gain independence. As a result, it was the variety that gained prestige while the others were gradually abandoned by their speakers (Christidis 1999: 23 ). Most scholars agreed that a homogeneous language (for both speech and writing) was an important factor for the development of the new state, but the arguments were intense as to which variety would better serve the needs of the new nation. The strong link between language and nation reflected, on the one hand, dominant Western European ideological trends of the time and, on the other, specific Greek emotions. Each of the two varieties served rather different functions, as is the case in all diglossic situations. Katharevousa was used mainly in writing but was also spoken in formal contexts, and it was the language of education, administration and the media, whereas Demotiki was primarily a spoken language used at home and in informal interactions. It was, however, also used for writing literature, in particular poetry. Thus, Demotiki was a highly cultivated variety, an exception to Ferguson's strict specialisation of functions, especially in its more recent stages as it had also been codified (Frangoudaki 2001).

Language variation in Gn!eee 265

The two varieties co-existed until recently, with Katharevousa dominating at various points in time. Both varieties had been invested with such intense emotional and political sentiment that translations into Demotiki of the New Testament and Aescbylus's Orestia, in particular, provoked riots in Athens (1901 and 1903), while later on (1920) it was decided that textbooks in Demotild should be burnt. At times, distinguished proponents ofDemotiki were sued for antireligious and antiethnic views. These reactions were an explicit realisation of intense underlying socio-political conflicts since Demotiki reflected progressive, and later on left-wing, ideologies, while Katharevousa was the symbol of the conservative and the powerful. The enforced use ofKatharevousa facilitated the elite's retention and exercise of power, since meanings were almost unintelligible to those with little or no formal education. Establishing Katharevousa as the official language was one of the first moves of the junta (1967-1974). However, the misuse and abuse of the language by the colonels further undermined its shaky prestige. Consequently, after its downfall, Demotiki was established as the official language for all levels of education ( 1976), and later for administration, law and political institutions. This move was perceived as a rather natural development a solution to a long-standing problem of polarisation.1 In order for undesirable associations with past tensions to be avoided, this official language was called NEO£llttvuc~ 'New/Modem Greek' rather than Demotiki. This reform had important social consequences in addition to the linguistic ones. Language users were freed from the ideological polarisation and stigmatisation that the choice between Katharevousa and Demotiki entailed (Philippaki-Warburton 1999). However, the reform was not devoid of problems. Administrative documents, legal and other scientific texts had to be rewritten in a language that only some people could write well. Educated adults, journalists, politicians and civil servants were supposed to speak and write a language they were not fully competent in, as it had not been taught in schools (Setatos 1973; Frangoudaki 1997). For the same reason, the state of the language used in the media and by young people, in particular, was condemned by some as unsatisfactory. In general, there was uncertainty as to what the correct forms were, and this further reinforced the use of a language which included forms from both Demotiki and Katharevousa. This was quite a natural outcome since the two varieties had co-existed for a long time. However, the linguistic situation which emerged during the first years after the reform offered fertile ground for the expression of complaints concerning the "deterioration" or even the "extinction" of the language, a common fallacy "that appears everywhere in every generation" (1hldgill1995f.44).

266 Maria Sifianou

Christidis ( 1999:80-93) identifies two phases of discussions on language issues after 1976. The first phase, which ran till the middle 1980s, focused on the "problem" of the language being "cut off" from its "roots~ thus losing its millennia-long unity. This, the argument went, leads to "impoverishment" which, along with "pollution" by foreign words, will contribute to the extinction of the language, and to the nation by extension. The second phase, which extends to the present day, focuses on views relating the assumed uniqueness and superiority of the Greek language to its long, "uninterrupted" history and its infiuence on other European languages.3 Irrespective of their Demotiki or Katharevousa affiliations, linguists recognized the importance of dialects in the study of language. With the exception of some extreme views, Katharevousa advocates considered dialects worthy of investigation since they provided evidence for the continuity of the language and thus the superiority ofKatharevousa. On the other hand, Demotidsts" focus on dialects was a strong argument in favour of the adoption ofDemotiki, a "living" language (rather than the defunct Katharevousa) and a descendant of Ancient Greek. However, since emphasis on wide dialectal variation was seen as undermining the possibility of establishing a homogeneous spoken language, thus legitimizing the adoption of Katharevousa, Demotiki advocates came to underrate and even ignore regional variation (Owalambakis 1992; Delveroudi 1997). For Triandafyllides (1938: 609), it was only natural that the cultivation of a koin~ Demotiki would marginalise dialects, especially since dialectal features were condemned as capable of undermining ethnic unity. This rather oversimplified picture of a complex background helps explain why Greek linguistics has had a primarily diachronic orientation until recendy, marginalising at the same time dialects and dialect research in the effort to establish a common language which would guarantee ethnic unity.

Regional variation

The beginnings of Greek dialectology can be traced to the middle of the 19th century. Early dialect work falls within traditional dialectology. Researchers concentrated on individual lexical items &om rural areas (as was common in early dialect studies, see 'Iiudgilll974b: 37). Dialects were of interest to the extent they provided evidence to defend positions mainly relating to the origins of modem dialects. Once this was resolved, especially with Hatzidakis" work supporting the view that all Greek dialects (with the exception ofTsakonian) are descended from Hellenistic koin~, further research ignored the ancient substra-

Language variation in Greece

tum in modem dialects (Tzitzilis 2000: 15) in an attempt to downplay current variation. The motive was similar for the distinction between 8tciAeuo~ 'dialect, and t8ibJpa, also 'dialect~ both of which involve regional variation. The former refers to varieties which exhibit significant variation in relation to Standard Greek and cause comprehension problems, while the latter refers to mutually comprehensible varieties with few differences restricted mainly to the phonetics and marginally to lexis and morpho-syntax. This distinction was introduced by Hatzidakis (1881) to support his claims that there was little current regional variation since all varieties are descended &om one common language (in Delveroudi 1997: 563). Despite this explicit distinction, the terms have been used interchangeably. Four distinctly different dialects have traditionally been identified: (1) Tsakonian, spoken in the eastern Peloponnese, (2) Pontic, spoken along the north coast ofthe Black Sea, (3) Cappadodan, spoken in areas of central Thrkey and (4) the variety used in areas of southern Italy and Sicily.4 These varieties were the ones which have preserved most archaic forms due to their isolation and geographic distance from the centre, exhibit greater influence from other languages ('Ii'iand.afyllides 1938:69), and are declining under the influence of majority languages. Early dialectologists were primarily concerned with these •exotic• varieties, which move us and make us love them twice as much because of the mysteries they hide (Triandafyllides 1963:49). In addition to these, the best-known classification of Greek dialects (t8twp«T«) by Hatzidakis (1892) distinguishes two broad groups- north and south dialects- on the basis of two phonetic differences. A few more features of phonology, morphology and syntax were added by Triandafyllides (1938:6668), who prefers a distinction between east and west dialects (all four including subgroups). Geographic mobility to urban centres, especially after World War II, has changed the boundaries and, along with other socio-political factors, has contributed to dialect levelling. What 'Iiiandafyllides (1938:66) observed long ago, namely that classification of dialects is problematic due to the lack of a linguistic atlas based on systematic research, is still true (Tzitzilis 2000: 16). A feature of Greek dialect studies is that any kind of influence from other languages has been underplayed (Tzitzilis 2000: 15), even though this is inevitable given the long years of contact with other languages. By contrast, the emphasis was on loans from Greek found in other languages. Tzitzilis (ibid.) identifies three trends in Greek dialect research. The first coven work with a historical orientation on the basis ofphonetic features. The second includes a number of studies from the 1980s which are based on the

~7

268

Maria Sifianou

principles of structural dialectology. These studies are mostly diachronically oriented and, although phonological features are considered, the emphasis is on phonetics and the lexicon - its archaic rather than modern forms - while morphology, and syntax to a greater extent, have been ignored.5 The third trend is primarily represented by Newton's {1972) attempts to describe all the varieties of Greek on the basis of phonological features within a generative dialectology framework, which still remains the most comprehensive work on Greek dialects. & a consequence, there is little research on synchronic variation and no linguistic atlas, with the exception of that of the island of Crete (Condosopoulos 1988). Given the expansion of education and the media, with their concomitant homogenising effects, and demographic factors such as increased mobility from rural to urban areas, regional dialects are declining. As Delveroudi ( 1997: 566) succinctly observes, now that the dialects have acquired the right to be studied, they have lost their right to exist. & a consequence of this and of more general trends in the field (Chambers & 1htdgill1980:23), research has taken new directions. The weakening of regional variation has resulted in the remaining varieties being distinguished mainly on the basis of social criteria (e.g. education). Two basic sociolects have been distinguished in Greece: (1) the variety of educated people {mainly residing in big cities) and (2) the sodolect of those who are not educated {mainly residing in rural areas), which exhibits regional variation {Kakridi-Ferrari & Chila-Markopoulou 1996:26-27). Although there are no large-scale national projects as yet, one should not fail to acknowledge the increasing number of local studies on dialect variation based on urban rather than rural varieties {though not exclusively) and including social along with linguistic variables. For example, several studies consider phonetic and phonological issues of Greek dialects and dialect weakening (e.g. Malikouti-Drachman 2000), while the Sfakian dialect of Crete has been 'Ihtdgill's on-going project (e.g. 1985d). Cypriot dialect is also receiving considerable attention, even though its status as a dialect seems to be weakening (e.g. Karyolemou 2000). In addition, given the impetus in the European Union for the preservation oflesser-used languages, there is renewed interest in the study of dialectal enclaves outside Greece. Arapopoulou (2001: 178) observes that the survival of these varieties depends mainly on external factors, among which the attitudes ofthe speakers themselves is very important. Ironically, recent expansion in the teaching of Standard Greek may adversely affect their survival.

Language variation in Gn!eee 26f

Social variation With the exception of diglossia, very little has been done on social dialectology in Greece until recently. A notable exception is the so-called "secret languages" or anti-languages. These varieties are used by marginal groups, such as thieves and drug-addicts, in order to keep the contents of their interactions secret (Andersson & Trudgill1990:79) and show their opposition to society. 1riandafyllides ( 1925)6 was the first to consider about fifteen such varieties, including /lti)'ICUCtl, the jargon of the /lti'ylc£~ "street urchins' that is, members of the underworld in Athens and Pireas, VT6pnm, the code of builders, and /17r0lltipnca, the code ofbeggars, tailors and quacks in Evritania. liiandafyllides further discusses some codes, which we would probably call registers today, developed and used by people who had the same occupation and which functioned both as a group bond as well as a means to fight social oppression. On the basis of data primarily collected from literary sources, Sella-Mazi (1994) has considered a number of such current sodolects, including those of the underworld, of the gay communities, of thieves and of prisoners. Such antilanguages have also been studied by non-linguists, a well-known example of which is mllapVTti, the variety of street homosexuals. More recently, informed by the pioneering work of Labov, Trudgill and Milroy, a number of studies have considered different aspects of variation. Daltas, for instance, was among the first to consider social variation in a number of his publications. He used natural data from Athenian Greeks of similar educational background to look at verb form variation (Daltas 1979). In his study of adolescents' speech in a small area of northern Greece, Papazachariou ( 1998 and elsewhere) identified geographical, demographic and linguistic features (especiaDy intonation patterns) that are involved in linguistic variation and change. He explored instances of dialect levelling, simplification and reallocation as evidence for the creation of a new dialect used by adolescents residing in the area, determined by factors such as membership in diffuse or focused social networks irrespective of their ethnic background Phonological variation, and more specifically the surfacing of a nasal reflex before an oral stop, as in mi)'KO~ /p,gos/ vs. /pU,gos/ "bench~ has been the focus of a number of studies. For example, Pagoni (1990, 1993) used the principles of social network theory for the choice of her sample and found that the degree of embedding in particular networks dearly correlates with the linguistic proximity of her informants. She also found higher percentages of surfacing nasals among the older, more conservative and more educated speakers in her sample, suggesting that this variation is a sign of a phonological change

270 Maria Sifianou

in progress. Arvaniti and Joseph (2000) used random samples and found age rather than style to be a predominant factor in the choice between /d/ and /nd/. The youngest age group were found to prefer /d/ in all contexts and the oldest age group to prefer /nd/, especially in more formal styles. They su88est that surfacing nasal reflexes in medial position appear to have not only lost their status as High variants but also to be disappearing &om the speech of the younger speakers, while a new variant /nt/ is emerging in formal word boundary contexts. They attribute this apparent-time change (rather than stylistic variation) to the socio-political changes which led to the demise ofKatharevousa (1976), the /nd/ being a Katharevousa feature. On the basis of data collected &om recorded news bulletins from two radio stations (ERA1-public and SKY 100.4private), Milaos ( 1997) examined the social and linguistic factors influencing the surfacing of a nasal reflex before oral stops in word-internal position. He attributes the higher percentage of this prestigious alternative used by ERA1 broadcasters to audience design and links this finding with the dynamics of work networks which reinforce a particular stylistic behaviour. On the discourse level, the social variables that have received most attention in recent years include gender and age. Makri-Tsilipakou (e.g. 1991) has explored extensively the gender variable in various social contexts and in numerous publications. Iordanidou and Androutsopoulos ( 1997) have looked at age in a number of articles on youth language. On the whole, they found striking similarities with teenage slang in other European societies, which functions essentially as an in-group style of interaction. Adults, views on this style are also similar to those found in other societies and are mainly derogatory (e.g. indicating •linguistic poverty").

Concluding mnarlcs Greek has a long and rather turbulent linguistic history. Linguistic issues have always reflected political and ideological stances and socio-political polarisation involving not only intellectuals but also lay people. However, we should acknowledge that gradually, especially after the abolition ofKatharevousa, linguistic research has been flourishing. Publications range &om dictionaries and grammar books to books on linguistics, anthologies and conference proceedings.7 Informed by the recent advancements in the field, research is focusing on the current state of the language, its standardisation, and its position in the European Union, but also on language variation. Despite some pessimistic and even nationalistic views about language, research evidences a more optimistic

Language variation in GReCe 271

side. Older views lamenting the imminent extinction of Greek are less frequent and rather unjustified given this plethora of publications, to some extent the result of scholars' concerted efforts to study and cultivate the language. The expansion of the teaching of Greek to groups both inside and outside Greece and the production of related materials are also contributing to the study and cultivation of the language.

Notes • I am grateful to the editon of this volume who gave me the opportunity to express my deep gratitude to Prof Peter 'Ihldgill. not only for his invaluable encourqement. and continuing frienckbip since my Ph.D. days, but also for his introducing me to the academic world (for better or worse!). I should also fm)rd my gratitude to both him and Jean Hannah for commenting and editing this chapter (among many othen) and assure him that Iremember that "if there is anything good in this chapter at all, the credit is all theirs"! I should also like to thank G. Mikros, S. Pagoni and D. Papazachariou for their prompt responses to my queries and their suggestions and additional references related to their respective work.

Similarly, my gratitude is due to R. Delveroudi for reading the chapter and offering me her expert comments, and to A. Tzanne for her help in editing it. The term 'Greek' has been commonly used to refer to Ancient Greek. whereas the contemporary language tends to be modified as 'Modern Greek~ implicitly comparing the latter with the glory of the former (Frangoudaki 1997: 76 ). I will use the term 'Greek' to refer to the modern language (see Holton, Mackridge. & Philippaki-Warburton 1997: xiii for the same position) and use the modification for the ancient language, where necasary. 1.

See Browning (1983: 110), Babiniotis (1998:205) and Frangoudaki (2001). 3· 'fhU issue is closely related to fears for the future of lesser-used languages within the EU. 4- By extending the term 'dialect~ the Cypriot and Cretan wrieties can be considered dialects 2.

of Greek (Condosopoulos 1994:3).

s.

For the same trend in other societies, see Cheshire and Stein ( 1997). 6. This reappeared in Kokolis (1982).

7· The establishment of new Departments of Linguistics as well as that of the Centre for the

Greek Language in Thessaloniki in 1994 has given a new impetus to these dndopments.

References Andersson, L-G. & 'frudgill, P. ( 1990}. Bad lAnguage. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Arapopoulou, M. (2001 ). Dialect encla'YI!S of Greek [In Greek]. In lAnguage Encyclopedia (pp. 175-179). Thessalonik.i: Centre for the Greek Language.

272 Maria Sifianou

Arvaniti, A. & Joseph, B. (2000). Variation in voiced stop prmasalization in Greek.

Glossologia, 11-12, 131-166. Babiniotis, G. (1998). Concise History ofthe Gmk Langua' (3rd ed.) [In Greek]. Athens. Browning. R. (1983). Medieval and Modern Gmk (2nd ed.). Cambridge: Cambridge Uniwrsity Press. Chambers, J. K. & 'Ihulgill, P. ( 1980). Dialectology. Cambridge: Cambridge Uniwrsity Press. Cbaralambakis. C. (1992). Modern Greelc Language [In Greek]. Athens: Nefdi. Cheshire. J. & Stein, D. (Eds.). ( 1997). Taming the Vmracular. London/New York: Longman. Christidis, A.-P. (1999). Langua,. Politics, Culture [In Greek]. Athens: Polis. Condosopoulos, N. G. (1988). Linguistic Alias of Crde. Iraklion: Crete University Publications. Condosopoulos, N. G. (1994). Dialects tmd Idiomata of Modern Greek (rnised ed.} [In Greek]. Athens. Daltas, P. (1979). The inflectional morphology of the verb in Modem Greek Koine: A variationist approach. PhD. thesis, University of leeds. Delveroudi. R. (1997). The language question and the Modern Greek dialects (18801910). In "Strong" and "Weak" Languages in the Europmn Union: Aspects of Linguistic Hegemonism (pp. 561-568). Thessaloniki: Centre for the Greek Language. Ferguson, C. A. (1959). Diglossia. Word.15, 325-340. Frangoudaki, A. ( 1997). The metalinguistic prophecy on the decline of the Greek language. International Joumal af the Sociology of Language, 126, 63-82. Frangoudaki, A. (2001). The Language and the Nation: 1880-1980 [In Greek]. Athens: Alexandria. Hatzidakis, G. (1881). Contributions to the historyofModern Greek [In Greek]. Athineon, 10,3-28,85-128.

Hatzidakis. G. ( 1892). Einleihlng in die neugri«hische Grammatik. LeipzisHolton, D., Mackri<Jse, P., & Philippaki-Warburton, I. (1997). Gmk: A Comprehensive Grammar ofthe Modem Language. London/New Yorlc Routledge. Iordanidou, A. & Androutsopoulos, L (1997). Teenage slang in Modern Greek. In G. Drachman et al. (Eds.), Grtelc Linguistics '95: Proceedings of the 2nd lntertt~~tional Conference on Greek Linguistics (pp. 267-276). Graz: Neugebauer. Jahr, E. H. & Trudgill, P. (1993). Parallels and differences in the linguistic development of modem Greece and modem Norway. In E. H. Jahr (Ed.), Language Conflict and Language Planning (pp. 83-98). Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Kakridi-Ferrari, M. & Chila-Markopoulou, D. ( 1996). Linguistic variation and the teaching of Modem Greek as a foreign language [In Greek]. In Modern Gntk as a Foreign Language (pp. 17-51). Athens: Goulandri-Horn Foundation. Karyolemou, M. (2000). Cypriot dialect or idiom? [In Greek]. In The Greek Langwge and its Didltcts (pp. 43-48). Athens: Centre for the Greek Language. Kokolis,X. A. (Ed.). (1982).Manolis Triandafyllida: StltctedWorlcs [In Greek]. Thessaloniki: Manolis 'friandafyllide Foundation. Mackridge, P. ( 1985). The Modem Greek Language. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Makri-Tsilipakou, M. ( 1991 ). A.greemmtldisagreement Affiliatiw vs. disa.fliliative display in aoss-sex conversations. Ph.D. thesis, Aristotle University ofThessaloniki.

Language variation in GReCe 273

Malikouti-Drachman, A. (2000). Weakening of dialect systems [In Greek]. In The Grtelc Lanp4ge and its Dialects (pp. 23-28). Athens: Centre for the Greek Language. Mikros, G. (1997). Radio news and phonetic vuiation in Modem Greek. In G. Dradunan et al. (Eds.), Greek Linguistics '95: Proceedings of the 2nd International Conference on Grtelc Linguistics (pp. 35-44). Graz: Neugebauer. Newton, B. (1972). The Genertltive lnterpretotion of Dialect: A Study of Modem Greek Phonology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pagoni, S. (1990). Cluster analysis and social network structure. In Proaedings of the lOth Annual Muting of the Department of Linguistics, Faculty of Philosophy. Aristotle Univmity of'Thessaloniki (pp. 399-419). Thessaloniki: Kyriakides. Pagoni, S. (1993). Modem Greek phonological variation: A Government Phonology approach. Ph.D. dissertation, University Collese London. Papazachariou, D. (1998). Language vuiation and the social construction of idmtity: The sociolinguistic role of intonation among adolescents in northern Greece. Ph.D. thesis, University of Essex. Philippaki-Warburton, L (1999). The 1976 reform: A social and linguistic liberation [In Greek].InProcudings oftheConfomrce 197~1996: Twenty Yursfrom the Establishment ofModem Greek (Demotiki) as the Officiall..angruJge (pp. 93-99). Athens: Tsiveriotis. Setatos, M. (1973). Phenomenology of Greek [In Greek]. In .Epistimoniki Epetirida of the School of Philosophy (pp. 43-80). Thessaloniki: University ofThessaloniki. Sella-Mazi, E. (1994). Social dialects of Greek: A first approach [In Greek]. In Porfyras (pp. 176-189). 1iiandafyllides, M. (1938). Modem Grtelc Grammar: VoL 1: A Historical Introduction [In Greek]. Tbessaloniki: Manolis 'Iiiandafyllides Foundation. 1iiandafyllides, M. (1963). The Complete Works of Manolis 'I'riandafyllides [In Greek]. Thessalonilci: Manolis 1iiandafyllides Foundation. Tzitzilis, C. (2000). Modem Greek dialects and Modem Greek dialectology [In Greek]. In Lanp4ge Encyclopedia (pp. 15-22). Thessaloniki: Centre for the Greek Language.

A Norwegian adult language game, anti-language or secret code The Smoi of Mandai Ernst HAkon Jahr Agder University College, Norway

Mandai, language games and Smoi Mandai is a small coastal town close to the southernmost tip of Norway with about 10,000 inhabitants. During the period we will be interested in here, however- the 20th century, and especially the first half of the century- it had only between 3000 and 4000 inhabitants. While shipping had been the town's main source of income in the 19th century, small factories were the most important in the 20th. Smoi was developed in Mandai as a language game or secret code, based on the local dialect, among special groups of adult inhabitants - in particular, it seems, fishermen and traders and, later, taxi drivers- before it spread to other groups. Snwi (from the local Mandai pronunciation /smoi/ of the Norwegian word smug /sma:g/ 'narrow street~ also used in the expression i smug 'in secret' or 'hidden', indicating that the idiom was secret) was at its height during the first half of the 20th century. Its use declined rapidly after World War II and from the 1950s onwards. The phrase in Smoi for speaking the idiom is kepre n4ss lbpD nos/ 'speak like this' (from the Mandai dialect preke sdnn). Smoi is an interesting example of a variety found all over the world and in most language oommunities. These varieties are usually called language (or linguistic) games, secret languages or codes, anti-languages, disguised speech, play languages, and ludlings. They are often developed and used among children, the best known example in the English-speaking world being Pig Latin. For most of the varieties of this type, there is a systematic difference between

176 Ernst HAkon Jahr

the language-game word and the corresponding word in the real language. Thus, the idiom is potentially productive. When enoountering a new languagegame word, a speaker/hearer can automatically identify the oorresponding reallanguage word and also decide what the "correct" form of any real-language word will be in the language game. It will be clear from what follows that Smoi exhibits salient differences from the typical language game and has perhaps more in common with a type which Halliday (1976) has termed 'anti-language~ First, it was developed by adult speakers and was spread and used primarily among adults and adolescents. Second, even if we can ascertain certain specific word formation tendencies or perhaps rules, it is not possible to predict the "oorrect" form of a Smoi word. Each word seems to have been coined separately, some according to one rule, others by different rules. Most of the more simple language games have in principle only one rule or apply only one word transformation mechanism. In Smoi, the overall transformation principle seems to be as general as this: split the Mandai dialect word into syllables and/or phonemes, then rearrange the sequence of syllables or phonemes in any order you 1~ provided it is pronounceable. The resulting word does not have to be in full accordance with normal Norwegian phonotactic rules. If the newly ooined Smoi word is "funny" or in any way special or surprising in a Norwegian language context, this feature gives it more value and, probably, increases its chances of being used by other speakers of Smoi. Even with this very general and seemingly anarchic principle of word formation, it is nevertheless possible to distinguish some rule-like tendencies when we study the Smoi lexicon. These rules operate both on phonemes and on syllables and will be discussed further below. Thus, Smoi seems to have more in common with the more complicated anti-languages, for example the French teenager variety Verlan, than the more simple language games. (On language games, cf Conklin 1959; Laycock 1972; Kirshemblatt-Gimblett 1976; on antilanguages, Halliday 1976; on Verlan, Bachman & Basier 1984; Lefkowitz 1987.) Smoi has been mentioned in a few popular publications (e.g. Valvik 1971:69; Lillesund 1989: 179; Beksle 1998) and is the topic of a small booklet (Christensen 1999). The first more serious treatment of Smoi was by Kiev (1992), then a high school student in Mandai. Her unpublished paper as well as Christensen (1999) have been important sources for this chapter.

The Smoi of Mandai 7.77

The origin, development and spread of Smoi In all Norwegian cities and towns, there have traditionally been in general two

major sociolinguistic varieties in use: one associated with the upper-middle classes and one with the working class. The high-status varieties in all cities and towns have always been associated with a non-official (since 1938) written standard, so-called Riks~ which is a variety of one of the two written standards of Norwegian, BokmtU (the other being Nynorslc, which is based on popular local dialects; cf. Jahr & Trudgill1993; and Jahr 2003 for an overview of Norwegian standardization and the development of the special Norwegian language situation in general; see also Faarlund, this volume). The low-status variety in a city or town has traditionally been much more in line with the surrounding rural dialects and is closer in phonology and morphology to the Nynorsk written standard. The difference between these two varieties of urban dialects in Norway has always been very noticeable to the speakers, but it seems that the difference between the two Mandai varieties was even more salient sociolinguistically than was or is the case in other cities or towns (d. Lillesund 1989: 172-179). This may be due to the fact that the town of Mandai is so small. In bigger towns or cities, people do not necessarily have to have close relationships or dealings of any kind with people who speak the other variety if they do not want to. They can in any case keep the relationship limited strictly to business. This is not so in a small town like Mandai, where everybody actually knows everybody else and people are in so many ways dependent on each other in their daily life. Thus, in Mandai there is no escape from people who speak the other sociolinguistic variety- one has to relate to them every day and in many more ways than is the case in bigger places. In fact, in a small town like Mandai, where the difference between rich and poor was less salient in daily life, language may turn out to be one of the very few means by which people could distinguish themselves socially and through which they could rise above the "common man': As a consequence, there was a sharper sociolinguistic divide to be found in Mandai than in larger towns and cities like Kristiansand or Oslo. Perhaps this sharp difference between the two sociolinguistic varieties is one reason why Smoi developed in the first place. The development ofSmoi coincided with a change in the economic base in Mandai. During the second half of the 18th century, salmon and timber exports brought money to the town, while in the 19th century it was shipping. However, when sail power lost out to steam, Mandai's shipping industry succumbed, and in the 20th century, small factories and other industries provided the town with most of its income. This meant that Mandai developed an industrial working class, albeit on a small

278 Ernst HAkon Jahr

scale. Consequently, it became more important to signal the social difference between the working-class group and the upper-middle classes. Language was an important means for doing this. Since Smoi is basically derived from the low-status variety, to use Smoi was a way of speaking the low-status dialect without exposing oneself to so many of the negative social connotations usually ascribed to the working-class variety by society at large. As it turned out. Smoi turned out to be a sociolinguistic neutral playground for the. mainly, male inhabitants of Mandai. Men and boys from all walks of life could use Smoi and enjoy each other's conversation in it regardless of the large social divide between the two traditional varieties of Mandai speech. It is a fact that there were few female speakers of Smoi. This indicates that, after all, some of the stigma usually connected with the low-status local variety was also to a certain degree attached to Smoi. Thus, using Smoi was probably associated with male values. This also meant that young girls, although they certainly understood Smoi to a great extent, used it very little or at least considerably less often than boys (according to Mrs. Gerd Kiev, Lene Kiev's grandmother, who is one of the informants for Kiev 1992; her grandfather, Odd Johan Kiev, who was known to be a very good speaker of Smoi, was another informant). There are some uncertainties concerning the period when Smoi was first developed. Some claim that Smoi dates back at least to around World War I, citing romma '(the) mother'(< mora), raffen '(the) father' (
dysne ,_bban. veid du 'cheat the fanners, you know (lit 'know-you'}

The Smoi of Mandai :&79

Here dysne (<Mandai dial snyde) 'cheai and n11bban (<Mandai dial f»nruan) 'the farmers' were Smoi words, whlle veid du 'you know' is normal Mandai dialect. We notice here the important geosocial parameter of rural vs. urban. The butcher used this expression when among other townspeople, in secret and in solidarity against the farmers from the countryside surrounding the town of Mandai. During the next period, the 1920s and early 1930s, Smoi was developed into a usable seaet Mandai code based on the local dialect. The taxi drivers of Mandai seem to have been the most important group of users in the 1920s, and it probably was this group that developed Smoi during that decade. Kiev (1992) gives a vivid desaiption ofhow the taxi drivers' situation contributed to the development ofSmoi. In those days the taxi drivers did not have a lot to do. They could sit for hours waiting for customers and passed the time chatting and observing people passing by. On one side ofthe taxi rank were the boats and ships arriving and departing with passengers and cargo, and the fishermen landing and selling their catch, wblle on the other was the town with the local bank and various shops. The taxi drivers were thus strategically placed and could follow almost everything that happened in town. No wonder, writes Kiev, that they made many ironic and humorous comments about whatever happened and whoever passed by. They certainly needed to use a secret lingo for such remarks to be socially acceptable. In particular, the women •were evaluated and 'undressed"~ according to Kiev, e.g.: Es pl atjent med de nubre natiS}' og de niffe neiban 'look at the girl with the brown eyes and the nice legs' (Here pi, ~de and og are normal Norwegian words)

The taxi drivers wanted to be able to make comments without being understood by their •victims~ So they adopted the early Smoi words from the fishermen and small local traders and developed the lexicon further. The taxi drivers, in doing this, showed a great deal of linguistic creativity, and other groups piclced up the Smoi words from them. A song from a local revue in May 1936 established Smoi as an important part of Mandai's identity among its inhabitants. "The taxi driver song• includes many Smoi words in its 6 verses, and it has appeared in print several times since 1936 (most recently in Syrdabll997 and Beksle 1998: 101). This has probably contributed considerably to consolidating the impression that the taxi drivers were the main group involved in both the development as well as the use of Smoi in the 1920s and early 1930s.

28o

Ernst HAkon Jabr

From the taxi driven, it seems that Smoi spread to bank employees and to men who worked in the shops that were situated close to the taxi rank. The Bank of Mandai was only a few meten from where the taxis parked, and employees in the bank are often referred to as enthusiastic users of Smoi. Later, Smoi was reported to have been popular among the members of the local athletics club and football (soccer) club. When these clubs were involved in competition outside Mandai, they had a great deal of fun speaking Smoi among themselves and thus excluding other Norwegians from the convenation. The ability to use Smoi varied considerably according to how many Smoi words one knew. Some speakers knew only a few words but would claim proudly to be a speaker of Smoi, while othen - the most lmowledgeable could engage in long convenations using Smoi words to such an extent that it would sound as if they were speaking a quite separate, and therefore totally unintelligible, language to a non-Mandai person. If someone coined a new word in Smoi, this word might catch on and spread to the other users if they liked it and approved of its form - or they might try to suggest a competing form based on the same original word in the Mandai dialect. There were several groups of teenage boys in Mandai, often socially defined. These groups used Smoi differently- which of course is to be expected, first since Smoi was an oral form and as such showed much social as well as individual variation, and second since there is no definite method or rule for making a Smoi word out of the corresponding word in the Mandai dialect. For example, one of the boys' groups (0vrebygudan 'the boys &om the upper/better side of town') is reported the have used the Smoi form piskefudding (< jiskepudding 'fish pudding'), while the group called Stlkkan.sgudan (boys belonging more to the working class) used skifshdupping for the same item. Smoi was, however, very seldom used in Mandai homes, at least not in the homes of people &om the upper-middle classes. Even though the parents may often have bad a good command ofSmoi- since it was reported to have been known and used at every workplace in town - it was still considered a street idiom, and as such it was not viewed as being good enough to be used in the "better• homes.

Special Mandai dialect features reflected in Smoi The town dialect of Mandai belongs to the southern group of Norwegian dialects. It is distinguished &om the more western and eastern dialects inter alia

The Smoi of Mandai 281

by the ending of the infinitive, which is -e (/;)/): lese 'read~ skrive 'write~ com-

pared with -a in the west (lesa, skriva) and either -a or-e in the eastern dialects (lesa, skrive, the endings being distributed according to the historical syllable structure in Old Norse). Typical dialect features found in Mandal words which are carried over to the Smoi words include the following: a.

Voiced stops after long vowels. The dialects of the coastal region in this southernmost part of the country are distinguished by a phonological feature commonly referred to as 'soft consonants': having voiced stops fbi, ldl,lgl as opposed to voiceless stops lpl,/tl,lkl as in most other Norwegian dialects in this context, reflected asp. t, kin the written standards: most Norw. Mandai diaL Smoi fbi kj1pe kjflbe bflkje lep lt~b bt~l

ldl feit/fet

foid

Slit

slid

gulmtter mat

gulerfldde

mad

sjug lommeboktl lommeboga rile rig

lgl sjulc!syk

'buy' 'run!' deif 'fat' (adj.) dtiS 'sweet' rulleglldde 'carrots' dlun 'food'

gusj 'ill' moUeboga '(the) wallet' gir

'rich'

b. Where the written Norwegian standards (Bokmll. Nynorsk) as well as many dialects have a final/r/ in several grammatical categories (e.g. plural indefinite masculine and feminine nouns; present tense weak verbs), the Mandal dialect exhibits no final/r/: {written) Stand.lvarious dialects Mandai diaL Smoi gulrt~ner guler11dde ruUeg1dde •carrots' rl}'ker rr~yge gfi)'Te 'smoke' (verb)

c.

Use of the feminine grammatical gender (with the definite article -a), found in all Norwegian dialects (except in Bergen) but not salient in the written standard (Bokmll) used in Mandal in the 1920s and 1930s (the -en forms being common gender):

282 Ernst HAkon Jabr

Bokmll (1920s-'30s) MandalcUaL Smoi (most &eq. forms)

morm

mora

rom(m)a

Iommen

lomma

molla

lconen

leona

nolca

'(the) mother' '(the) pocket' '(the) wife'

Some nouns which in most dialects belong to the masculine gender are feminine in Mandai. The fem. definite article -a will then be transferred to the Smoi word: most clialects Mandai dial. Smoi fralcken frakka lrafra '(the) coat'

d. A different vowel in Mandai dialect words &om that found in the standard: Bokmll u>o /a>ul full

i>e

Smoi

laff lcokj

'drunk'

fyllesjuklfyQesyk follesjug

'thick' 'piece' str~bban '(the) breasts' l.ffegusj 'have a hangover'

rilctig

irtlct

tjulckltyklc y>e

Mandai cUaL foO tjoklc l~ukl stg/dce

styldce brystene

brlstan rtlcti

blste

'correct'

e. A morphological dialect feature that is carried over to the Smoi words is the definite plural noun ending -an, found in all three grammatical genders: Bokmll Mandai cUaL Smoi guttene gudan dangudldandug fl)'tlene

l}'nan

buksene bolcsan folhne follcan hndene hnnan

'(the) boy(s)' '(the) eyes' sanboks /sanbuks/ '(the) trousers' kloffan '(the) people' n1bban '(the) farmers'

nan-r

In addition to these important Mandai dialect features, the orthography of pre1938 Bokmll also plays a part, at least for the very important Smoi wordgim 'I, me~ Bokmll, prior to the 19381anguage reform in Norway (on this reform, d. Jahr2003), had migastheobliqueform ('me') (in 1938 it was changed to meg). The pronunciation was /mzi/ (in Oslo) and /me/ in Mandai. In Smoi, the word gim lgiml 'I' is made by reversing the spelling pronunciation of Bokmll mig.

The Smoi of Mandai 283

The coining ofSmoi words It seems that language games in general can be described by their use of one or more of the following four mechanisms: rearrangement, substitution, insertion, and deletion, with rearrangement being the most frequent and deletion the least (Laycock 1972). The more devices a variety employs, the more complicated it is. Most language games will use only one or two ofthe mechanisms. Pig Latin, for example, uses two: rearrangement and insertion. Smoi, however, employs all these mechanisms, perhaps with the possible exception of substitution. Smoi often exhibits complicated combinations of more than one device in the coining of a word. However, in Smoi, these are not employed systematically but in what appears to be an ad hoc and unpredictable fashion, although it seems that the number of syllables in a word is important (see below). Thus, every Smoi word is in principle transformed from the original Mandai dialect word idiosyncratically. We can identify the mechanisms used in the coining of a given Smoi word, but we cannot predict in advance which one(s) will be employed Therefore, Smoi had to be learnt by its speakers word by word. This makes Smoi stand out as special among idioms of the language-game type. Here are a few examples of Smoi words yielded by the different mechanisms: 1. Rearrangement

One-syllable words in the Mandai dialect may become Smoi words simply by reversing the letters: Smoi kom mok 'come' 'car• bil lib sed (Stand. Sit) us 'sweet' 'beer' Is Mandai diaL

"'

Initial consonant clusters in one-syllable words are treated as a single unit: Mandai dial. krem

Smoi meier 'cream' resm 'butter• obi 'blood'

smer blod /blu:/ spy ysp sjug (Stand. sjuk) gusj

'vomit'

'sick. ill'

284 Ernst HAkon Jahr

2. Rearrangement and insertion In two-syllable words, we find rearrangment as well as the insertion initially of the root's final consonant or consonant cluster:

Mandai dial. jenta (jent+a) banlcen (bank+en) mannen (mann+en)

Jla5*a (flask+a)

Smoi

tajent kenbanlc nenmann slcaflask

'(the) girl'

'(the) bank' '(the) man' '(the) bottle'

For some Smoi words, only part of the Mandai dialect word is rearranged and the initial syllable is unchanged: Mandai dial. Smoi betale belane 'pay' (verb) makreU malelcr 'mackerel' In polysyllabic words, the phonemes of the final syllables may be rearranged

while the initial and middle syllables are interchanged: Mandai dial. Smoi sjo-ko-lade kosjodalle 'chocolate' kri-sti-ansanner stikrianasser 'Kristiansand person' 3. Insertion

We find a few examples of insertion (marked with bold type): Smoi Mandai diaL 'little' liMn [Stand.liten) dilden 'fish' (verb) ftsu skifslce rilcamerinakker ~erican' (noun) ameribmer

4. Deletion

When deletion is employed, it usually works on the first syllable, leaving the rest of the word unchanged: Mandai dial. Smoi ansikte sikte '(the) face' tysker slcerr 'German' (noun) sykkelen uUen '(the) bike'

The Smoi of Mandai

5. Double rearrangment (with possible insertion) Some experienced usen of Smoi would sometimes perform a double rearrangment of the Mandai dialect word (with a possible insertion in twosyllable words): Mandai dial. slaJl ftmn modi

normal Smoi ldsk raffen dosni

apert Smoi Mkl 'cheers!' [no insertion] fenraff '(the) father' snidos 'funny'

Smoi's position in Mmclal's cultural history After the main Smoi lexicon had been developed during the 1920s and early 1930s, the period up to 1945 is reported to have been its main decade of use, including the World War ll period when Norway was occupied by Nazi Germany. During the war (Smoi: gikren < lcrigen), Smoi was the ideal secret language to use. There are many anecdotal episodes told about how the Germans (Smoi shrran <Mandai dial. tyslceran) were fooled by Mandai people speaking Smoi (Christensen 1999:28£). This recalls Halliday's (1978) main example of an anti-language, which was aeated by prisoners in Poland to make their communication obscure to their guards. After the war and in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s, the use of Smoi lost ground. It never disappeared completely, however, and in the 1990s, interest in it began to be renewed as the younger generation in Mandai started to ask questions about this special idiom which was so closely tied to social intercourse in Mandai and to the Mandai dialect. Klev"s (1992) high school paper is an excellent example of this interest. Today. Mandai patriots would claim that Smoi is part of Mandai's special identity, an important part of Mandai's cultural heritage and 20th century history.

Acknowledgement I want to thank Per H. Iversen, Jean Hannah, Rune Restad, Martin Skjekkeland, Nils Reidar Christensen, Petter Kiev, Ivar Beksle and nine Merete Vasby, who have all helped in various ways during the writing of this chapter.

28)

286

Ernst HAkon Jahr

References Bachman, C. 8c Basier, L ( 1984). u verlan: argot d'ecole ou langue des keum? La Mots, 8, 169-187. Beksle, I. (Ed.). (1998). Bestemor synger. 50 viser fra Mandai ... og litt Smoi. Mandai: Fr. Salvesen Grafiske. Christensen, N. R. (1999). Smoi. Mamlalittenes gamle stammespnlk. Mandai: Fr. Salvesen

Grafiske. Conklin, H. C. (1959). Language play in its cultural context. Languagt, .35,136-139. Halliday, M. A. K. ( 1976). Anti-languages. American Anthropologist, 78, 57~584. Reprinted in M. A.K Halliday (Ed., 1978), Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation ofLanguage and Mttming (pp. 164-182). London: Edward Arnold. Jahr, E. H. (2003). Norwegian standardization- past and praent. In A. Deumert 8c W. Vandenbussche (Eds.), Gmnanic standardizations -past and present. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Jahr, E. H. 8c liudgill, P. (1993). Parallels and differences in the linguistic development of Modern Greece and Modern Norway. In E. H. Jahr (Ed.), Language Conjlia and Language Planning ('Iimds in Linguistics, Studies and Monographs 72) (pp. 83-98). Berlin-New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Kirshemblatt-Gimblett, B. (Ed.). (1976). Speu:hplay. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Kiev, L (1992). SmoisprlkeL Unpublished high school paper, Mandai High SchooL Mandai, Norway. Laymck, D. (1972). Towards a typology of ludlings, or play languages. Linguistic Communications (Working Papers of the Linguistic Society of Australia), 6, 61-113. Lefkowitz, N.J. {1987). Talking Backwards and LookingForwanls: The French Game Verlan. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Washington. Lillesund, ~ (1989). St•1clcan. En Utmark Blir Byrlel. Mandai: Frithjof Salvesens Bok- og oft'settrykkeri. Syrdahi,A. (1997). Husker du 'smoispdket'? Lindesnes, Christmas issue/ December. Mandai, Norway. Valvik. I. (1971). Vdre FemtiAr. Mandal1921-1971. Mandai, Norway.

Children and linguistic normativity Sharon Millar University College Dublin

This chapter considers children's notions of normativity in language, arguing that these are not necessarily related to any idea of a standard language, a link so often assumed in the literature, at least in relation to adults. Rather evaluative concepts and notions of correctness seem to develop initially in terms of what is the same or different from what the individual child is used to, and what is relevant to the child's personal experiences. All of this takes place with the child's developing linguistic system as a backdrop. A mature linguistic system is not a prerequisite for normative behaviour (or language awareness); children can be supremely normative using ungrammatical (i.e. non-adult) forms. Effects ofliteracy are also apparent, but these manifest themselves as the primacy of spelling over sound and need not be interpreted within the framework of standard language norms as such. It is increasingly acknowledged that perceptions of, as well as attitudes towards, language play an important role for linguists trying to make sense of 'folk' notions of language structure and use and their possible significance for linguistic and other types of behaviour (see Niedzielski & Preston 2000). Within social dialectology, the traditional emphasis has been on perceptions of sociolinguistic variation. Using a variety of methodologies, e.g. subjective reaction tests, accent evaluation experiments and structured interviews, studies have found that people tend to have highly favourable attitudes towards standard varieties, to dislike urban dialects and to view one's own usage through the lens of institutionalised norms (see Labov 1972; Trudgilll982). Informants have generally been adults and adolescents, but younger children have been included (see Romaine 1984). The focus of interest and methodological repertoire have been extended by the work of Preston and his colleagues as they work towards a theoretical model of folk linguistics through the use of percep-

288 Sharon Millar

tual maps and discourse analysis (see Preston 2002). What is lacking, bo~r. in relation to folk perceptions of language is a developmental perspective and an integration of social and cognitive dimensions. I would argue that sociolinguistic awareness is dependent on a more fundamental developmental abilitythat of metalinguistic functioning, which itself relies on cognitive factors, such as perception, attention and memory, as well as (often unclear) social influences from the home, the school and the peer group (Bialystok 2001; Chaney 1994).1n other words, just as metalinguistic abilities may not be uniform across individuals and indeed across time, sociolinguistic awareness may not be something we all simply possess and its nature and extent may be variable. One interesting question, for instance, is to what extent metalinguistic awareness, and hence sociolinguistic awareness, may have sociolinguistic correlates. The data to be presented here are qualitative and form part of a project on the development and nature of metalinguistic awareness in Danish schoolchildren.1 A total o£75 children, aged 6-10, and 12 of their parents, were presented with a number of metalinguistic tests dealing with phonetic, phonological and morpbosyntactic phenomena. Data used in this chapter relate to a correction and explanation task. which involved identifying, correcting and explaining morphosyntactic erron. These were pre-recorded using a native Danish voice and presented through a computer. In addition, preliminary investigation of how children perceived me, a non-native speaker, and othen who 'talk differendy' was carried out by means of post-task discussions with a native Danish fieldworker. Some of this data is also included here.

Evaluative vocabulary Although the experimental rontext presented the children with evaluative terms, such as 'mistake', 'right' and 'wrong~ the children themselves spontaneously used other expressions in their evaluations. These included babysprog 'baby language', tJndsvag, dum, both meaning 'stupid~ ur~~~turlig 'unnatural~ mystislc 'mysterious~ JNm 'nice~ ordentlig 'proper~ ren 'pure~ The following comments, all from 7-year-olds, serve to illustrate this: ( 1) Error: •muse (inflected instead of uninflected plural mus 'mice') Jeg vii sige til ham at deter lidt lndsvagt at ban ikke lean sige det ordentligt. 'I would tell him that it's a bit stupid that be can't say it properly: (2) Error: gammel (context required an adjective inflected for number: gamle

'old')

Children and linguistic normativity 28t

Fordi sA lyder det ilcke sl pa:nt. •Because it doesn't sound so nice.' (3) Error as perceived by child: phonetically reduced form of jeg •r: ija] instead of non-reduced form ijai].l The actual•error', not commented upon, was incorrect word order. Det lyder heller ikke szrlig godt og sldan siger man heller ikke. •It doesn't really sound very good and you don't say it that way either.' (4) Error: •snakkte (incorrect regular past tense suffix -te instead of correct suffix -ede (snalckede) for the verb 'talk') Hvis man skal sige det at jeg snakkede med en sl synes jeg mere man skuBe

sige det pl den orden1lige mAde. 'If you are going to say "I talked to somebodY: then I think it's better that you should say it the proper way.' Clearly, children are familiar with and are content to use evaluative expressions - nice, proper etc. - presumably because they have been socialized into this by caretakers, teachers, siblings and peers. The question is what might underlie their use of such expressions.

Bases of evaluation Intelligibility A frequent reference point for the children was that of being understood, as exemplified in the following exchange. Here an 8-year-old has picked up on the reduced form of the word 'not' (ilcke [e~]), which involves elision of the final schwa {ik' [eg]). The actual 'error' in the sentence was a non-inverted adverbial in a dependent clause (h•er iJc1ce instead of iklce h•rer), but this was subconsciously corrected by the child. (5) Child: Nlr jeg ikke herer efter. Han sagde nlr jeg ik' herer efter. When I do not [ikke] listen. He said when I do not [ik') listen.' Int: Hvad er fejlen? •What's the mistake~' Child: Ik' jeg vll sige ikke. 'Ik~ I would say iklce.' Int: Hvorfor~ 'Why~·

~

Sharon Millar

Child: Sl kan man bedre forstl det. 'Then you can understand it better.' Similarly, the reduced form of ikke perturbs the following 9-year-old, although the word did not actually occur in the test sentence; the child perceived the sequence *drikkede cacaomt:elk 'drinked chocolate milk' as drilckede ilclce cacaomcelk 'drinked not chocolate milk~ Note that •driklcede is an overgeneralization of the regular past tense inflection -ede; the correct form is an irregular plural drak 'drank'. The child did not seem to perceive this over-regularization as an error. (6)

Child: 1k' det skal vzre ikke. '11c' should be ilcke.' Int: Hvorfor? 'Whyl' Child: Fordi jeg drikkede ik' cacaomzlk iglr aftes. Jeg drikkede ikke cacaomzlk i glr aftes det lyder bedre og sA bliver det sA mere forstleligt. 'Because I drinked not [ik1 chocolate milk last night. I drinked not [iklce] chocolate milk last night sounds better and then it also becomes more understandable.'

Understanding is also appealed to by the following 9-year-old in relation to an error in adjectival agreement: •rf!ld bord 'red table' should be rf!ldt bord since neuter gender (et bord) requires a -t suffix on the adjective in this context (7) Child: Alts! bvis jeg siger redt redt red bord sA forstlr de andre det ikke fordi at sl sperger de hvad betyder red bord. 'I mean if I say red, red [correct inflection with -t] red [uninflected] table then the others won't understand it because then tbeytl ask what does red [uninflected] table mean.' Intelligibility/understanding is an evaluative concept with a long and impressive track record that may possibly have universal status, since being understood must be one of the overarching norms of communication (Bartsch 1987). That children make ready appeal to the notion is, thus, not so surprising and is testament to its pervasive and dominant role in normative thinking. While often appealed to in debates about standard and non-standard languages, the concept also figures prominently in relation to the connected speech processes which characterise faster and informal styles of speaking, as in the iklce examples above (see Millar 1993).

Children and linguistic normativity 2.!'1

Institutionalised norms Although evaluation of language by adults and adolescents is often based on standard norms and notions of correctness related to these, younger d:illdren exhibit differing behaviours here. They may operate with definite ideas of right and wrong which have little to do with the standard language, or with adult norms; the principle seems to be that correctness =what I am used to. Anumber of children, for instance, corrected the standard pronunciation of the ungrammatical form ,.sovede - an overregularisation of the past tense with the irregular verb 'sleep' - to a regional, Funish pronunciation; so the suffix -ede, pronounced [3&] was corrected to (;d) (sovet). Note that the adult form for the past tense is sov 'slept'. The 8-year-old below picked up on the phonetics, rather than the morphology, of sovede: (8) Child:

Jeg sovede meget i gAr. Sovede.

'I slept [sovede] a lot yesterday. Sovede [standard pronunciation].' Hvad vii du sige? 'What would you say?' Child: Jeg sovet meget i glr. Int:

'I sovet [dialectal pronunciation] a lot yesterday.' And this 6-year-old was quite definite in her correction: (9) Child: Det hedder sovet ikke sovede.

'It's called sovet [dialectal pronunciation] not sovede [standard pronunciation].' Another 8-year-old picked up on the standard pronunciation of the word morfar 'grandfather~ correcting this to a local pronunciation: [mtdfa] corrected to [JDAfa]: ( 10) Child: Det hedder ilcke morfar der hedder 'mafar'.

'It's not called morfar [standard pronunciation], it's mafar [local pronunciation].' Some children showed signs of awareness of regional pronunciations, but this was not cast within the framework of standard vs. nonstandard The 8-yearold below was aware that the past tense of the verb slikke 'lick' could be pronounced several ways- slikkede ([3lJ(;)]) or slikket ([:Hi]). His claim, however, that Copenhageners use the latter form is incorrect; this form is characteristic of Funen.

292 Sharon Millar

(11) Child: Min hund slikkede Signe i ansigtet i glr. 'My dog licked [slikkede) Signe on the face yesterday.' lnt: Hvorfor? 'Why?' Child: Fordi det hedder det bare ... Flier slikket. 'Because that"s just what it"s called ... Or slilcUt [local pronunciation).' Int: Kan man sige detl 'Can you say thatl" Child: Det kan man godt sige. Det er der nogen der siger enten er er det kebenhavneme eller ogsA er det fynboere der siger det. Slikket. "You can say that. There are people who say it, either they"re Copenhageners or also there are people &om Funen who say it Slilclcet.'

Children may not have been operating with the standard-nonstandard dichotomy in relation to regional variation, but there was evidence that some had notions about the Danish language as an independent entity not in their control and decided upon by unspecified others. When asked to explain errors, some children adopted this perspective. The comments of the 9-year-olds below serve to illustrate this: (12) Child: Det 1tunne man ogsl have gjort men dansk sprog er bare vzlgede at det skulle vzre noget helt andet. Det kunne have vzret det "You could also have done that but Danish language is just chosed [sic) that it should be something completely different It could have

been that.' lnt: Hvorfor kunne det vzre? 'Why could it be?' Child: Det er fordi at det kunne de have valgt at vores sprog det skulle have vaem sldan. Deter ligesom i Spanien der snakker de jo ogsl helt &emmed sprog dernede. Det 1tunne ogsl vaere dansk dernede og vi kunne have haft spansk. 'That"s because they could have chosen our language to have been like that. It's like in Spain, there they talk a completely foreign language. It could have been Danish there and we could have had Spanish.' (13) Child: Sldan harman ikke 1avet det danske sprog altsl..

'One hasn't made the Danish language that way I mean.' (14) Child: Mander det siger man jo ikke Cordi maender eller maend altsi sidan har de jo gjort altsi valgt at sige sldan Cordi mander der lyder jo

Children and linguistic normativity 293

belt dumt altsl.. 'Mans, you don't say that because mens or men, I mean that's how they have done I mean chosen to say it that way because mans sounds completely stupid I mean.' Preston (2002: 63) notes that a characteristic of folk linguistic belief in the USA is the idea that language is •somewhere 'out there·~ This conceptualisation is apparent from these children's comments, although for them language is •out there~ but determined by an anonymous •they•. Effects ofliteracy It is acknowledged that literacy has an efFect on levels of metalinguistic awareness (Wray 1994), so the fact that some children should resort to spelling and segmentation strategies when explaining errors is not that surprising. These strategies were not necessarily accurate. The following 7-year-old, who would have been learning bow to read at this stage in the Danish school system, explained morpbosyntactic errors in terms of what the word supposedly ended with: (IS) Chlld, explaining why •hester ('horses' with incorrect plural suffix) is wrong and heste (correct plural suffix) is right: Fordi at det slutter ikke med d.

'Because it doesn't end with d.' Int: Sl hvis der slutter med d sl er det. ...r 'So if it ends with d, then it's ... ?' Child: Sl ville det hedde heste. 'Then it would be heste [correct plural suffix].'

Similar segmentational anarchy reigned with snalckede ('talked~ with correct past tense suffix) and mllklcte (incorrect past tense suffix): (16) Cblld: Fordi at det skulle slutte meet d i stedet for eller jeg mener e eller med k eller hvad man nu vll sige. 'Because it should end with d instead or I mean e or with 1c or whatever one would say.' An older child, 8 years old, referred to norms more dearly influenced by the written medium, although accuracy was variable. One ploy was to refer to missing letters. Having picked up on the reduced form of jeg 'I~ pronounced [jA] (non-reduced form is [jcai]), she explains this in terms of a missing g:

294 Sharon Millar

(17) Child: Sl mangler der et g. 'There's a g missing:

Here the well-known visual eJfects of spelling on perception are obvious. The reduced form of ilclce 'not~ pronounced as [eg) (the non-reduced form is [ega)), is explained in similar terms, but in this case, the missing 'letter' is completely misidentified: ( 18) Child: Sl mangler der et bogstav. 'There's a letter missing: Int Hvilket boptav manglm 'What letter is missing?' Child: N.

Literacy would seem to have enduring and profound effects on the perception of language since it adds a visual dimension to oral/aural experience.3 Consequently, literate speakers, even from the early stages, often permit the eye to rule over the ear in normative contexts: sounds become subservient to letters. Personal experience Children's personal experiences are lilcely to have an effect on their perceptions and evaluation of language. For instance, part of the normative picture for the children in the sample here is the distinction between native and non-native Danish; given the ethnic mix of their school, issues of "foreigner' Danish, language choice and code-switching are part of their daily experience- more so perhaps than matters of regional language variation. Children were aware that their classmates from immigrant baclcgrounds did not always speak Danish "correctly'; a typical example given was their wrong use of grammatical gender. They were also aware that these classmates spoke other languages; and for some children, language choice could be something of an issue. The 7-year-old below gives a normative insight into multilingual school life in the following interaction: ( 19) Cblld: Men nogen gange kan jeg ikke fond dem.

'But sometimes I can't understand them: Hvad ger du sl? "So what do you do?' Child: S4 siger jeg kan I ikke snakke pA dansk i stedet for jeres eget sprog? 'So I say can't you speak Danish instead of your own language?'

Int:

Children and linguistic normativity 295 Int:

Hvad siger de sA? 'So what do they say?' Child: Jo jo det kunne vi godt. 'Yeah, yeah we can do that: Int: Snakker de nogen gange deres eget sprog nAr I er i klassen? 'Do they sometimes speak their own language in class?' Child: Ja nAr de bliver dbt op nede oppe i ldassen og nede i fritteren sA siger de 'abat' pl tyrkiet. Det er drengene og nogen af pigerne der ger det heldigvis ger jeg det da ikke. 'Yes when the roll is called in class and during the break, they say •abat' in Turkey [sic]. The boys and some of the girls do that, but luckily I don't do that: Int: Hvad betyder det det de siger? "What does what they're saying mean?' Child: Det der •abat'? Det betyder 'ja~ Det betyder •;a• pl deres sprog. 'Nej' pl Nemets sprog. 'That 'abat'? That means •yes•. That means "yes' in their language. 'No' in Nemet's language.' Int: Det er tyrkisk? ·u·s Thrkish?' Child: Ja. 'Yes.' On some occasions children referred to 'rules' that existed about speaking languages other than Danish in class. The 9-year-old in the following explains why such rules are necessary: (20)

Child: De holder heller aldrig reglerne de ml kun snak:ke tyrkisk ude i frikvartereme ... 'They never keep the rules. They can only speak Thrkish during the

breaks.' De der regler med at man kun rnA snakke hvordan er de? 'Those rules about you can only speak, what are they like?' Child: Deter fordi at de plejer at snakke tyrkisk i timeme og sA ml de kun snakke tyrkisk i frikvartereme for sA kan de jo snakke noget om os. 'It's because they tend to speak Thrkish in class and they can only speak Turkish in the breaks because they could say something about us.' Int: Sl I ikke kan forstl det? 'So that you don't understandr

Int:

296 Sharon Millar

Child: JL S4 kan de sige hemmeligheder om os derfor ml de kun snakke i friltvartereme. "Yes. So they can tell secrets about us. That"s why they can only talk in the breaks: Modem realities of immigration have meant that monolingual Danish children find themselves in multilingual contexts; the effects ofthis on their awareness of other languages are dear, but it is interesting to note in some cases not only their expectations of how their bilingual classmates should act, but their acceptance and interpretation of imposed rules of language choice.

Future perspectives How speakers perceive and evaluate language has always been of interest to sociolinguistics from its earliest days, as testified by the work ofLabov and Thldgill As the significance of folk linguistic belief for language variation is inaeasingly recognised, a fruitful path for the future would be to combine social and cognitive perspectives on issues such as norms and awareness, adopting both experimental and discursive methods, so that a greater understanding can be reached of how people of all generations from varying cultural, social and linguistic backgrounds view language structure and use. If linguists are to "make a plea for a better understanding of certain linguistic realities• (Andersson & Ttudgilll990: 4), their starting point wiD have to be in the cognitive, social and cultural complexities ofhow people understand and create linguistic "realities•.

Notes 1. This study, done in coUaboration with Teresa Cadiemo, aims to investigate the na~ of metalinguistic awareness and its possible corRiation with external variables, such as ase. gender, social background and literacy level. It forms part ofa larger project on language and cognition which was funded by the Danish Raearc:b Council for the Humanities 1998-2001 (see Child Llmguage Bulletin 2002. 22(1): 11-12). My tbanb to Hans Basbell and Astrid Jensen for advice in relation to Danish phonetics and orthographic transcription. 2. 1b avoid the use of diacritics. normalized symbols are used to represent all transcriptions of Danish in this chapter. Note all Danish plosiva are voiceless. hence [g) represents a voiceless. aspirated stop. See BasbeR and Waper ( 1985) for details. 3- I do not refer here to literate language usen who may be hearing or visually impaired. Effects ofliteracy in such cases may manifat themselves clifferently.

Children and linguistic normativity 21J7

References Andersson, L & lhtdsill, P. ( 1990}. Bad l.attgullge. Oxford: Blackwell. Bartsch. R. (1987). Norms oflAnguage: Theoretiad tmd Prtu:tiazl Aspects. London: Longman. BasbeD, R & Wagner J. (1985). KontriiStive Phonologie des Deutschen und Danischen: Segmentak Wortplaonologie und -plaonetik. Tabingen: Niemeyer. Bialystok, E. (2001). Bilingualism in Development: lAnguage. Literacy, and Cognition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chaney, C. (1994). Language development, metalinguistic awareness and emergent literacy skills of 3-yar-old children in relation to social class. Applied Psycholinguistia. 15(3), 371-394. Labov, W. ( 1972). Sociolinguistic Patterns. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Pras. Millar, S. ( 1993). ln pursuit of clarity: An analysis of speech education manuals. Language and Communication, 13(4), 287-303. Niedzielski, N. & Preston, D. (2000). Folic Linguistics. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Preston, D. (2002). Language with an attitude. In J. Clwnbers, P. lhtdgill. & N. SchillingEstes (Eds.), '11Je Handbook of lAnguage Variation and Change (pp. ~). Oxfonl: BlackweD. Romaine, S. ( 1984}. n.e Langut~ge ofChildren and Adolescents. The Acquisition ofCommunicative Competence. Oxford: BlackweD. Wray, D. ( 1994). Literacy and Awareness. London: Hodder & Stoughton.

The virtue of the vernacular On intervention in linguistic affairs Henry Widdowson and Barbara Seidlhofer University ofVienna

Peter Trudgill devotes one of the sections of his most recent book to dialect change, and introduces it by way of a defence of dialect diversity (1iudgill 2002a: Section II). Dialects, he argues, are the natural expression of local cultures and identities, and their all too common denigration as substandard varieties is in effect a discrimination against their speakers. In view of this, it is not enough that sociolinguists should simply describe dialectal diversity; they also need to take some responsibility for its preservation. This raises the question of how far one can, or should, intervene in linguistic affairs to maintain diversity, or indeed arrest it by promoting homogeneity. The question is implicit in the very ergative nature of the verb dumge itself. Language changes, working its own mysterious way: vowels shift, consonants metathesize, morphemes come and go, all by some kind of internal self-regulation. But it is also the case that language gets changed: change is not always something that happens in language, but something that is done to it. There is some external influence at work in the form of various socio-cultural factors that naturally impinge on language to activate adaptation. But there is also a kind of influence which is consciously and deliberately exercised. Here there is proactive intervention in the normal reactive and adaptive processes of language change. The issue we are concerned with, then, is what motivates intervention of this proactive kind, and, more controversially, what justifies it. Sometimes, motivation and justification would appear to be fairly obvious. Examples of language planning would be a case in point, where, as a matter of official policy, the status of particular varieties is enhanced, by elaboration or revitalisation, so as to equip them for their functional and symbolic role as national languages.

300 Henry Widdowson and Barbara Seidlhofer

In other cases~ things are not so straightforward. What we want to do in this

paper is to look at various attempts at intervention in the past with a view to prompting some thought of how~ in spite of their period costume~ they raise issues that bear on current thinking about language maintenance and linguistic diversity. We begin with Sir Thomas Sprat~ one of the founders of the Royal Society. This was established in the mid 17th century for the purpose of the "Improving of Natural Knowledge~ Such improvement, in Sprat's view, called for a correspondingly natural use of language, and was severely hampered by eloquence, which he refers to as the luxury and redundance of Speech, . . . this vicious abundance of phrase. this trick of metaphors, this volubility of tongue, that makes so great a noise in the world.

The Royal Society, he tells us, have taken action against this mischief. They have therefore been most rigorous in putting into execution, the only remedy that can be found for extravagance: and that has been, a constant resolution, to reject all the amplifications, digressions, and swellings of style: to return back to the primitive purity, and shortness, when men delivered so many things, almost in an equal number of words. They have exacted from all their members, a close, naked, natural way of speaking. positive expressions; clear senses; a native easiness: bringing all things as near the mathematical plainness as they can: and preferring the language of Artizans, Countrymen, and Merchants, before that of Wits or Scholars.

Language, in Sprat's view, can only be epistemically effective in the service of knowledge if it is plain and unadorned- naked indeed, and to be plain is to be "natural'~ "native~ something that is to be found in the usage of artizans and countrymen and other simple folk. This belief in the need for intervention to protect the language &om unseemly abuse carries over from Sprat's century to the next. It is given a particularly, and characteristically~ strident expression in Jonathan Swift's pamphlet entitled A proposal for correcting. improving and ascertaining the English tongue. Swift, like Sprat, deplores verbal extravagance, the "succession of affected phrases and new conceited words" that have corrupted the language. But what really provokes his ire is not the way English gets elaborated but the way it gets reduced. English, he tells us, is "already overstocked with monosyllables" and yet poets indulge in "that barbarous Custom of abbreviating Words to fit them to the Measure oftheir Verses~ What is worse, this practice has been adopted in Prose as well, so that "most of the books we see now-a-days, are

The virtue of the 'Yel'Dilcular 301

full of those Manglings and Abbreviations~ He gives examples: Drudg'd, Disturb'd, Rebuk'd, Fledg'd • As a consequence, the language reverts to a previous primitive state: This perpetual Disposition to shorten our Words, by retrenching the Vowels, is nothing else but a Tendency to lapse into the Barbarity of those Northern

Nations from whom we are descended, and whose Languages labour all under the same Defect.

An interesting question arises here from Swift's use of the term

'disposition~

Elsewhere in his proposal he implies that these manglings are a matter of deliberate and perverse intent (particularly on the part of poets). The word disposition, however, suggests an inherent inclination, perpetual because natural, and in this case, these changes are not perverse at all but are, on the contrary, a reversion to socio-cultural type. The changes that Swift deplores are in etiect acts of identity (to use I.e Page's term: I.e Page &Tabouret-Keller 1985), and it is precisely for this reason that he deplores them, for the identity they express is, for him, a barbarous one. Quite unlike Sprat, he has no vision of some previous pre-lapsarian "primitive purity and shortness, in language which plainspeaking countrymen still retain and all others should aspire to. On the contrary, for Swift it is precisely the primitive that is to be avoided: he does not oppose change because it corrupts the primal integrity of the language but because it sustains it He is all for intervention because the language must be protected from the abuse of its users who, in following their natural tendencies, will inevitably be dragging the language back to some previous barbaric state. Unless there is intervention to control its development and ensure its "Refinement~ the language, labouring under its "natural Disadvantages" will always tend to revert to barbarity. It was for this reason that Swift proposed the setting up a Society whose members would be empowered to exercise such beneficial control. Besides the Grammar-part. wherein we are allowed to be very defective, they will observe many gross Improprieties, which however authorized by Practice, and grown familiar, ought to be discarded. They will find many Words that deserve to be utterly thrown out of our Language; many more to be corrected, and perhaps not a few, long since antiquated, which ought to be restored, on Account of their Energy and Sound.

Swift is not, he hastens to add, advocating fixity. There will be change, but only if sanctioned by authority. There is no question of language development taking its own course. Swift would have been quite appalled by 'Ihldgill's

302 Henry WJddowson and Barbara Seidlhofer

lamentable enmuragement of demotic variation, with all its improprieties and defects (especiaBy in the Grammar-part). There seems to have been a general conviction at the time that English was distinctive in being particularly well stocked with monosyllables- overstocked as far as Swift is concerned, who appears to take this feature as a defect, so that adding even more necessarily makes the language more defective. Addison, his contemporary, also notes the distinctive monosyllabic nature of English, but takes a rather different view of its significance. In an essay in The SpectQtor. published two years before Swift's Proposal and entitled Blessing on being bom an Englishman, he writes: I think myself very happy in my country, as the Janguage of it is wonderfully adapted to a man who is sparing of his words. and an enemy to loquacity ..• When we are obliged to utter our thoughts. we do it in the shortest way we an: able, and give as quick a birth to our conceptions as possible. This humour shows itself in several remarks that we may malce upon the English language. As first of all, by its abounding in monosyllables, which gives us an opportunity of delivering our thoughts in few sounds. This indeed takes off &om the elegance of our tongues, but at the same time expresses our ideas in the mtdiest manner, and consequendy answers the first design of speech better than the multitude of syllables, which malce the wolds of other languages more tunable and sonorous.

For Addison, then, the fact that English is so "abounding in monosyllables" is the cause for considerable satisfaction. For not only does it serve to uniquely express the character of its speakers (their "taciturnity" as he calls it) but also provides for the most effective kind of communication ("answers the first design of speech"). Addison and Swift both typify English as being inherently monosyllabic and agree that this typological feature naturally expresses something essential about the cultural identity or "genius" of its speakers. But whereas for Addison, this feature expresses positive qualities of the English character and so needs to be preserved, for Swift it is symptomatic of a deplorable tendency to revert to barbarism (and the more numerous the monosyllables the greater the reversion). Addison sees the feature as a positive advantage: it provides its speakers with the means to express themselves more succinctly and directly than those speakers whose more sonorous languages, with their "many superfluous syllables", lead them into needless loquacity. Monosyllabic English makes for an admirable taciturnity. Addison would appear to favour the kind of "plainness• and "primitive purity and shortness" that Sprat talks about, and to agree

The virtue of the 'Yel'Dilcular 303

that what is to be avoided is loquacity, what Sprat refers to as "Eloquence" and "Redundance of Speech". With all three of these writers there seems to be a belief in the existence of a kind of primitive vernacular that represents the natural character, some deep-seated cultural identity, of its speakers. They differ, however, in their attitude to it. For Swift it is an atavistic trace of barbarism whose pernicious influence must be stifled by the imposition of refinement and homogenisation. For Addison, on the other hand, this vernacular is to be valued precisely because it represents what is distinctive about the culture and identity of its speakers. Furthermore, since its monosyllabic nature makes it particularly well suited to effective communication, its speakers have the edge on those of other languages, who have to labour under the disadvantage of syllabic superfluity. Sprat, too, speaks in favour of this vernacular, pleading that its "primitive puritY' should be restored and purged of the corruption of eloquence. This is necessary, he tells us, if the Royal Society is to develop an appropriate discourse for the proper advancement of knowledge. But it is interesting to note that there is some discrepancy between what Sprat is advocating and the manner of his advocacy. "Warmed~ as he puts it, "by just anger~ he inveighs against eloquence in highly charged eloquent terms, and it is clear that he objects to verbal extravagance not only, perhaps not even principally, on practical grounds: he finds it morally repugnant. It is not just that it hampers effective communication; it is a vanity, an evil, a corrupting influence "fatal to Peace and Good Manners~ Only a "return back to the primitive purity and shortness", the "sound simplicity" of the vernacular will restore people to their natural and uncorrupted condition. Fortunately, there are groups of people who still use this vernacular- simple plain folk, who can presumably serve as models of what kind of language is desirable, for both practical and moral reasons. This belief in the virtue of the vernacular of simple plain folk finds striking expression at the end of the 18th century in the poetic credo of William Wordsworth. He outlines this in his Advertisement to the Lyrical Ballads, which he and Coleridge published in 1798. Here he cautions his readers that the poems in the book are not what they would normally expect. They are, he says, experiments designed to "ascertain how far the language of conversation in the middle and lower classes of society is adapted to the purposes of poetic pleasure~ Such language is quite different from what Wordsworth calls "the gaudiness and inane phraseology" of other poetry. Again, we find the notion that an underlying vernacular simplicity is being restored for the purpose of getting at the truth of things, not this time the truth of objective knowledge, as in the

304

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case of Sprat, but that of essential human experience. This is made more explicit in the Preface Wordsworth wrote for the second edition of Lyrical BaUads in 1800. He proposes, be says, "'to imitate, and, as far as possible, to adopt the very language of men•. The purpose of the poems, he says, is to deal with incidents and situations &om common life, and to relate or describe them throughout, as &r as was possible, in a selection of language reaDy used by men...

For Wordsworth, too, there is virtue in the vernacular, something uniquely essential, elemental, natural and real about the kind of unadorned and artless language used by ordinary common folk. If one is to get at the truth of things, one has to rid the language of "'false refinement• and "'arbitrary innovation~ strip away the verbal excrescence of inane phraseology (or "'vicious abundance of phrase•, as Sprat puts it). (For further discussion, see Widdowson 1987.) Again, however, there is a certain disaepancy between what is preached and what is practised. All of the poems in Lyrical Ballads are in Standard English. There is no attempt to "'imitate or adopt" the language as it was actually spoken, as there is in the writing of Wordsworth's near contemporaries, the Scottish poet Bums and the Dorset poet Barnes, or of the East Anglian poet Charles Benham, who Trudgill uses as a source of dialectal data: I loike to watch bar in the Parson's pew A Sundays, me a-settin' in the choir;

She look jest wholly be'tiful. she do, That filirly seem to set me heart on fire. (Mus Julia: the Ptmoris Daughter; quoted in Trudgill2002a: 101) Ifan historical dialectologist wanted to find out about the "'language really used by men" (or women) in late 18th century Cumbria, Wordsworth would provide no data whatever. In spite of what he claims, his poems do not provide a selection of the real, actually occurring language of his subjects, but a stereotyped projection of its supposed simplicity, an idealised version of the vernacular. Though Wordsworth describes his poems as experiments to find out bow this "real" language might be suited to poetic composition, the experiments never get off the ground, because be never actually makes use of this "'real" language. Similarly, in spite of what Sprat says about the Royal Society's preference for the language of artisans, countrymen and merchants, it seems unlikely that its members deb"berately modelled their discourse on such language, or indeed that they had anything but a vague impressionistic idea about what it was actually like.

'Jbe virtue of the 'Va'DaCUlar 305

In all of the writers we have been considering, we find a belief in some simple elemental form of speaking, a primal Ur-vemacular English which is the reflex of the essential nature of its speakers. But although there is plenty of assertion for and (with Swift) against, just what this vernacular consists of is left very vague indeed. For Addison it would appear to be a kind of monosyllabic basilect underlying English in general. .According to Sprat and Wordsworth, it is a variety of actual usage which finds full expression in the performance of particular groups of people whose lives are unspoilt by sophistication and by the elaboration of language that goes with it. This notion of the virtue ofthe vernacular persists beyond the 18th century into the 20th. We find it, for example, in George Orwell. In his essay Politics and the English Language, first published in 1946, he writes of the need to "fight against bad English~ by which he means something very similar to what Sprat and Wordsworth stigmatise as "extravagance~ "swellings of style" , •specious liopes and Figures~ "inane phraseology'~ He, too, is affronted by the same kind of verbal abuse: empty phrases put in to •pac1 each sentence with extra syllables~ "pretentious diction~ "inflated style~ "sheer cloudy vagueness~ all of which, he says, amounts to a "debasement of the language~ Like his 17th and 18th century precursors, Orwell makes an impassioned plea for plain language, for the restoration of a basic vernacular. Like them, he does not advocate this only on practical grounds. It is not just that plain language leads to a dearer and more direct conveyance of meaning, but it is also morally superior in that it cleaves closer to the truth. Elaborate verbiage not only results in "an increase in slovenliness and vagueness• but also in •swindles and perversions•. As with the other advocates of this simple vernacular, Orwell is both very assertive about its virtue and very imprecise about what its defining features are. At the end ofhis essay, however, he proposes a number of rules for writers to follow, and these give us some indication of what he has in mind:

(i) Never use a metaphor, simile or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print. (ill Never use a long word where a short one will do. (iii) Hit is possible to cut a word out, cut it out. (iv) Ne\'er use a passive where you can use the active. (v) Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent. (vi) Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous. (Orwell 1961:366-367}

306 Henry WJddowson and Barbara Seidlhofer

It difficult to see how such rules could ever be put into practice, and Orwell gives us no example of their application. Furthermore, he too fails to lead by example. Consider the very first sentence of his essay: Most people who bother with the matter at all would admit that the Engtisb language is in a bad way. but it is generally assumed that we cannot by conscious action do anything about it.

The use of the common figure of speech ..in a bad way"' violates the first rule. The phrase ..by conscious action.. violates rule (iii) in that it is redundant (if you do something about something, how can it be otherwise than by conscious action), and the use of the passive violates rule (iv). Almost any writing would be found wanting by a strict application of these rules. What Orwell seems to have in mind is a set of absolute standards of simplicity which will guarantee the direct conveyance of meaning. But this, of course, implies that meaning can be encapsulated in the language itself, and ignores the normal pragmatic conditions of its use. "Never use a long word where a short one will do.• But do for what? •Never use the passive where you can use the active.• But what if the passive is more appropriate than the active for your communicative purpose? Orwell himself seems to concede that his rules are in practice inoperable by adding the last one, which over-rides all the others and in effect renders them null and void: "Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.• But how do we recognise when a use of language is barbarous? What are the defining linguistic features ofbarbaritf. We are back to square one. What all of these writers have in common, from Sprat to Orwell, is a belief in the need for intervention in linguistic affairs. English cannot be left for people to do with it what they will. Left untended, it will degenerate. According to Swift this is because it reverts to its unrefined primitive state. For the others, the degeneration results from a loss of contact with this state, conceived of as some kind of simple and unspoiled vernacular. This is to be restored for two reasons: not only does it ensure precision in the conveyance of meaning, but it actually represents the essential truth of things, whether this truth be scientific (Sprat), poetic (Wordsworth) or political (Orwell). The use of simple language is to be commended on ideological as well as practical grounds: it not only makes you clearer but it makes you more truthful, too. 1 This beliefin a virtuous vernacular simplicity, however, rests on very shaky foundations. There is, as we have noted, little in the way of any description of it, nor any demonstration that it does indeed make for more effective communication, or capture essential truth. The evidence suggests the contrary. The language of science in the 18th century and beyond could hardly be de-

'Jbe virtue of the 'Va'DaCUlar 3f¥1

saibed as resembling that of artisans, countrymen and merchants: certainly there was no attempt here to keep to the Orwellian rule of avoiding a scientific word in favour of "an everyday English equivalent~ The development of science depended on linguistic adaptation (see Halliday & Martin 1993). And as for poetic truth, Wordsworth himself found that the vernacular was unsuited to his vision. Much of his poetry, even that published in Lyriad Balltuls, though lexically simple, is syntactically highly wrought and very remote indeed from "the language really used by men~ Sprat, as has already been pointed out is highly eloquent in arguing the case against eloquence, and Orwell violates his own rules. Attempts to maintain the vernacular, as conceived by these writers, fail because they seek to impose uniformity, and to arrest the naturaUy adaptive processes of linguistic variation and change. Why, then, one wonders, is its virtue so vigorously asserted? The reason, we would suggest is because of a commitment to an ideological cause that over-rides rationality. These writen are concerned with what they see as matten of moral principle. They are, one feels, engaged on a mission to protect and preserve certain socio-cultural values, some primal conceptual reality and way of life that are uniquely expressed by the vernacular and which would otherwise become extinct. It may not be very dear just what this vernacular is, and whether it actually works in practice, but for them, it would seem, the facts of the case are less important than faith in the cause. The kind of intervention in linguistic affairs that 'Ihldgill argues for is a very different thing. It would certainly not be directed at the preservation of some pristine form of English from the depredations of its usen, and his view of"bad• English is directly contrary to Orwell's (see Andenon & Trudgill 1992). Furthermore, just what it is that is to be preserved is no longer vague. His concept of the vernacular is dearly defined in terms of particular dialects and languages, and their linguistic features and patterns of use are desaibed in precise detail The descriptive facts are well established. But what ofthe motivation and justification for intervention? Are these entirely different? Defenden of English from Sprat to Orwell see certain kinds of usage as undermining the unique integrity of the language and therefore of distinctive socio-cultural values. Their defence, however, depends on a denial of the natural processes oflanguage variation and change. Arguments for divenity are also informed by a belief about intrinsic human values: vernaculars in the form of different languages and dialects are the expression of unique ways of life, symbolic of communal identities, and when they disappear, part of the rich complexity of humankind disappears with them; so that (to adapt John Donne)

308 Henry Widdowson and Barbara Seidlhofer

every language death diminishes language to the impoverishment of human life as a whole.2 Intervention in the preservation of diversity is unquestionably a good cause. But what of the case? The various ways of life and communal identities that linguistic diversity represents are themselves subject to variation, ofcourse: they are not fixed but continually in flux, shifting from generation to generation, adapting to all manner of changing conceptual and communicative need. In the process, one language or dialect is bound to decline as another develops, but this development, as the natural accommodation to cultural change, is itself diverse. Diversity involves variation and change and cannot be opposed to homogeneity because languages will always diversify and will never homogenise. But intervention to maintain linguistic diversity in the form of separate and self-enclosed dialects and languages seems to suggest that they should be preserved in an invariant state of suspended animation. The question that our brief historical review has brought to the fore still seems to be with us: how does intervention in the interests of language maintenance square with the facts of language variation? Perhaps this is only an apparent contradiction that can be rationally resolved. But, then, why should it be? Here we come to a more general issue about what motivates and justifies intervention. For is this not, ultimately and in the last analysis, always a matter of what you believe in? And why should conviction be answerable to rational argument anyway, as if this were the final arbiter of everything that is valid or ofvalue in human life? As Pascal puts it: "le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connatt point~ Trudgill (2002a: 29) points out that "to argue for the desirability of the preservation of linguistic diversity is ..• no easy matter". This, we would suggest, is because it is essentially a matter of pleading a cause for the preservation of human values that has an appeal beyond reason, and one which is ultimately motivated and justified by a belief in the virtue of the vernacular.

Notes L Essentially the same arguments ue put forward by the proponents of Basic English. This too, it was claimed, would constrain people to think more dearly and expras themselves more directly, and would eventually increase the cbana!S of world peace by a more transparent communication via a globallanguase (see Richards 1943; and for a recent appraisal of the current relevance of Basic English, see Seidlhofer 2002). 2.

For a particularly vivid. and moving, illustration of this. see Nettle and Romaine (2000 ).

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References Anderson, L-G. & liudgill, P. ( 1992). &ul English. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Halliday. M.A. K. & Martin, J. R. (1993). Writing Science. Literacy and Discursive Power. London: Falmer Press. I.e Page, R. B. & Tabouret-Keller, A. (1985). Acts of Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Netde, D. & Romaine, S. (2000). Vanishing Voices. The Extinction of the World~ Languages. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Orwell, G. (1961 ). Collected Essays. London: Seeker & Warburg. Richards, LA. ( 1943). Basic English and its Uses. London: Kegan Paul, Trench & Trubner. Seidlbofer, B. (2002). The shape of things to come? Some basic questions. In K. Knapp & C. Meierkord (Eds.), Lingua frll1ICII Communication. Frankfurt/Main:Lang. Widdowson, H. G. (1987). Language spread in modes of use. In P. Lowenberg (Ed.), Language Sprmd and Language Policy (pp. 342-360). Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press.

The Nynorsk standard language and Norwegian dialect varieties Jan Terje Faarlund University of Oslo

Introduction1

The Norwegian language(s) Norway has two official standard languages, both referred to as 'Norwegian'. In the official terminology, they ue called Nynorsk and BolcmtU. For the lack of adequate English terms, those will be used in this article as well (cf. Faarlund 1985). The former is based on the traditional dialects of Norway, and received its first literary form (with the name of Ltmdsmdl) through the work of the linguist and poet Ivu Aasen in the middle of the 19th century, and through subsequent literary cultivation and language planning. Bokm41 (previously called RilcsnuU) descends historically from the variety of Danish spoken by the native bourgeoisie in Norway. As a written language, Nynorsk is, and has always been, a minority language. The proportions have vuied somewhat, and today about 15% of the children get their primary education in Nynorsk. Most of the Nynorsk school districts and the majority ofNynorsk users ue in western Norway, and it has often been claimed that the Nynorsk standud represents a western variety of Norwegian. The Norwegian Language Council has proposed a reduction of the number of optional varieties and alternative forms within the official orthography, and it is also sometimes claimed that such a reform necessarily will make the official standard even more "western", and thus further alienate Easterners from Nynorsk. In this article these two assumptions will be challenged through a comparison of eastern dialects and the Nynorsk standard language, and through a discussion of some of the proposed reforms.

3D Jan Terje Faarlund

The Nynorsk standard language The goal of the Nynorsk project in Norway was originally to establish a common standard language for all of Norway, based on the Norwegian dialects which had survived 400 years of Danish rule with Danish as the official literary language (Meshtrie et al. 2000: 405f.; Viker 1975 ). This is still the philosophy as well as the policy of the Norwegian language movement. Nynorsk is supposed to be the written standard representing the Norwegian dialects. This sounds like a straight-forward principle, but it naturally becomes more of a challenge once one tries to implement it. Despite great similarities and common basic features among the Norwegian dialects, there are some important phonological and morphological differences, especially between the eastern and the western regions. 2 These two main dialect areas part company in many areas of phonology and morphology. And some of those features, such as the shape of the 1st person pronoun and of the negation adverb, are felt as very fundamental to many speakers, to the extent that being forced to use the "other, form may even be perceived as a violation of one's civil rights! In cases where the dialects differ, there are several options available to the language planner. One is to include as many as possible of the variant forms as alternatives within the standard; another is to choose one dialect form over the other(s); a third option is to select a form different &om all extant dialect forms, which nevertheless may represent the various dialects on a more abstract level. All of those three strategies have been used in the history of Nynorsk language planning. In general, the second strategy, choosing one (or two) dialect forms over all other existing forms, has been the common one. And in many cases the choice of form has been a simple one. The reason dialects are different from each other is usually because one has progressed further than another along a certain path of change, either through internal factors or because of external contact. In such cases the most conservative form can conveniently be chosen as the standard to represent even those which have undergone further changes. This was basicaBy lvar Aasen's philosophy when he established the first Nynorsk standard. As a consequence of this latter policy, standard Nynorsk has maintained diphthongs, vowel oppositions in unstressed syllables, and final -r in affixes, even though many dialects have undergone monophthongization, vowel reduction, and loss of final-r. The standard form is therefore steinar 'stones~ not one of the very frequent dialect forms, such as steiner, stener, or steina. This principle has, however, not been applied consistendy, and in Nynorsk language

1be Nynorsk standard languase and Norwqian varieties 313

planning after Aasen it has been violated in several respects. In many cases the most conservative form has been relegated to the status of 'subsidiary' form if it has a very limited geographical distribution.3 Both of the Norwegian standard varieties, Nynorsk and Bolanll, are characterized by rather large freedom of choice in the orthography. Very many words can be both spelt and declined in different ways without that being considered a mistake (Meshtrie et al. 2000:409; Trudgill1974b: 154-156). Up until the present, both Nynorsk and Bokmll have had a system of two levels of orthography.4 On the one hand there are the mt.~in forms, which are the varieties allowed in school textbooks and official documents. A main form may be unique, or two or more parallel main forms may exist. In addition to the main forms, many words have subsidiary forms, 5 which can be used by school children and others without being considered 'mistakes~ These alternate forms have been introduced gradually by the various spelling reforms of the 20th century. The motivation for introducing a choice of forms has not always been the same, however. To begin with, the justification was a policy of bringing Nynorsk and Bokmll closer together. The new optional forms were closer to the other language than the traditional forms, and the intention was that people would prefer these new common forms over the traditional ones. In that way, the assumption was, the two languages would merge into one common Norwegian standard language {Samnorsk). One illustrative example is the definite form of strong feminine nouns. Norwegian - like all Scandinavian languages - uses a suffix rather than a separate word to mark the definiteness of noun phrases. Traditionally Nynorsk had the affix -i for the feminine (soli 'the sun'), and Dano-Norwegian (later Bokmll) had the common gender suffix -en as in Danish (solen). In an attempt to abolish this very significant contrast, the suffix -a, which had a very wide distn"bution in spoken Norwegian, above all in the east, was introduced as a parallel form in both languages through a spelling reform in 1917. In Nynorsk especially, the variety of forms eventually received a different justification: the optional forms represented different dialects. Now the optionality no longer was a means towards an end, but an end in itself. As will be seen below, the great freedom has allowed for several specifically eastern forms, which would not find support in a conservative regard for tradition.

The eastern dialects In this article the term 'eastern' Norwegian is used to refer to the dialects in the

eastern lowlands of southern Norway, roughly the counties of Vestfold, 0st-

314 Jan Terje Faarlund

fold, Akershus, Oslo, and Hedmark, and the southern parts of the counties of Telemark, Buskerud, and Oppland. The dialects of this region share important features, which justifies referring to it as one dialect area.6 Since this is the most populous part of the country, it is a very important dialect area in terms of numbers of speakers. The area is, however, far from linguistically homogeneous. I will therefore be using the term 'central eastem'7 to refer to the southern parts of Hedmark and Oppland. The optionality issue Language surveys show that about one third ofthose who receive their primary instruction in Nynorsk later switch to Bokmil. There are, of course, several reasons for this. The most important one is no doubt the pressure from the majority language Bokmll, not only in the Nynorsk communities bordering on Bokmll, but also within the core Nynorsk area, which are the rural communities of western Norway. Another factor is, however, also important in the language shift. When asking people why they switch from Nynorsk to Bokmll, the answer given is very often that it is too difficult to write correctly and avoid mistakes in Nynorsk (Redningen 1999). The important question is, then, why people feel that way about Nynorsk but not about Bokmll. It must have something to do with the conditions under which literacy in the two languages is acquired. The acquisition of literacy depends on two important factors: one's own speech, and orthographic patterns. The great advantage of Nynorsk is its relationship to the speech varieties of the people of Norway. The problem is the orthographic pattern. As I have already pointed out, one of the goals of Nynorsk language planning has been to create an orthography as close to the spoken language as possible. Yet nobody can use their dialect forms consistently without making mistakes. Everyone has to learn how far one is allowed to go in the direction of one's own dialect. If there was less freedom of choice in the orthography, the written language would present a firmer basis for learning to write correctly. The way it is now, users ofNynorsk may see the same word written or inflected in different ways every time they encounter it. This makes it difficult to establish a firm intuition about what words "look like~ Then it is less relevant that at least some of the accepted forms look like the forms in the dialect of some Nynorsk users. I have argued elsewhere (Faarlund 1997, 1998a, 1999) that it would be a great advantage for the Nynorsk language and its users if the stan-

1be Nynorsk standard languase and Norwqian varieties 315

dard was restricted, preferably to the point where all optionality was abolished, and where there was one way only of spelling each word. This view confticts with the one a cited above, that the standard language ought to reflect as wide a variety as possible of the spoken language. On the other hand, it is in acoordance with Aasen's own view, who said that "Sprogformen bar kun vzre een• [the language form should be one only] (Aasen 1958:298). And in the final edition of his Norwegian grammar (Aasen 1864), he did not as a rule posit alternative forms. There is, however, no necessary conflict between these two views. The relationship between a codified standard language and its dialects can be understood in at least two ways. One way is represented by the present Nynorsk system, with several parallel and subsidiary forms which have been adopted in order to bring the standard as close to as many dialects as possible. The problem with this approach is that dialed speakers still have to learn which dialect forms are allowed within the official norm and which are not. School children in the central east are allowed to follow their dialed in having their strong perfect participles end in -i (har slcrivi 'has written'), but they are not allowed to follow their dialed in ending their weak participles in -e (haT hoppe 'has jumped'), which is also part of their dialect. The other way of understanding the relationship between a standard language and its dialects is the one represented by Ivar Aasen, namely that the standard language should represent the underlying system common to the dialects rather than individual forms &om each dialect In this article I will survey various aspects ofNynorsk orthography and inflectional morphology. For each section I will give a brief presentation of the situation in the eastern dialects, then compare this to the official Nynorsk standard. Then I will discuss some of the restrictions of the standard that have been proposed by the Norwegian Language Council and how those acoord with the distnbution of forms in the eastern dialects. For completeness, it will also be necessary to distinguish between main and subsidiary forms; among the main forms, a distinction will further be made between unique forms and parallel forms.

316 Jan Terje Faarlund

Vowels in stressed syllables Diphthongs Norwegian has three inherited diphthongs, ei, au, II)'. Those still exist in standard Nynorsk and in most dialects, but many dialects have monophthongized or contracted some of the diphthongs. This monophthongization has gone furthest in the east. The diphthongs exist in most eastern dialects, except in Hedmark, where they have become /e:/ and /e:/: sten 'stone~ h.k 'hawk, and rek 'smoke~ for standard and general stein, hauk, and reyk, respectively. This is an old development in those dialects and can be seen as part of a dialect continuum covering large parts of Sweden (including standard Swedish). It can therefore not be seen simply as superstratum phenomenon under the influence of Dana-Norwegian or Bokmil. In Oppland, a bit further to the west, a certain degree of contraction of diphthongs has also taken place, but here it is conditioned by the following consonant. Except for ei, the Nynorsk standard has adapted to eastern dialects by accepting subsidiary forms with monophthongs: draum [drtmr] 'a dream~ flaum (flom] 'flood~ d">'me [dmmme] 'to dream•.' There are even parallel main forms such as naudln11d 'emergency~ ltwkll11k 'onion~ h.re/hBfTe 'hear•. In some cases, this monophthongization goes even further than the central eastern dialects, which (with the exception of Hedmark) have maintained the diphthong in many of those words. A simplification and harmonization of the Nynorsk standard has been proposed whereby all monophthongized forms are abolished. This then would make it less in accordance with eastern dialects. Front rounded vowels In the transition from Old to Modem Norwegian, short high front vowels have

had a tendency to be lowered to mid vowels. Thus the originally/ has changed to /e/ in many dialects in the east (and elsewhere). The change is not consistent across the dialects, however. Some words have undergone lowering to /e/, while others have kept the /y/. There is generally lowering in front of r, as in /fe:ra/ 'before• (< ON fyrir), /merk/ 'dark•, etc., and before the retroflex flap, as in lbetja/ 'wave~ /fe{j;,/ 'folloW, etc., but also in many other words, such as /semjal 'swim~ /legnl 'a lie~ etc.

The Nynorsk standard languase and Norwqian varieties 317

The standard Nynorsk orthography is very inconsistent in this regard, not only in relationship to the eastern dialects but to spoken Norwegian in general. Some of the words have a unique form withy: byrja 'begin~ symja 'swim"; others have y or tJ as parallel forms: fyrst/ftJrst 'first•, lygnllsgn 'a lie"; some have y as their main form and tJ as a subsidiary form: syster [sister] 'sister~ lyfta [llfta] 'lift". For other words it is the reverse: folgja [&lgja] 'follow~ s•w [sylv] 'silver"; and for others again the tJ is the unique form: df'l/ta 'discuss~ sptJrja 'ask". This pattern, or lack of pattern, in the standard language cannot be learned on the basis of any single dialect, nor is it based on any consistent structural or historical pattern. It would no doubt make it easier to learn standard Nynorsk if this pattern were made more consistent. One could, for example, reintroduce they in all the words with an original short /y/. The problem with that would be that some of those words have been written with an tJ for a long time and are very frequent, so it would be unfortunate to change a familiar and well-established spelling. In addition, speakers of most dialects have no intuition about words with an original shorty as a natural phonological class, since in many dialects only the form with the ., is known. There is hardly any single dialect where all the words of this category have one and the same vowel, and even if such a dialect were found, speakers of that dialect would still have to distinguish between words with an original short y, words with an original short 1, and words with an original long y, which may have been shortened without being lowered. There is thus a distinction everywhere between e.g. nytt 'new (neuter) and mrtt 'nut•. Here as elsewhere, the forms of standard Nynorsk must be learned on the basis of written Nynorsk itself, and that learning task is easier the fewer variant forms there are of each item.

Balance Throughout the recorded history of the Germanic languages there has been a tendency for vowels to be reduced in unstressed syllables, especially in wordfinal syllables. In Norwegian this has resulted in a common type of bisyllabic word ending in a schwa (spelt e): mAne 'moon~ kviler 'rests~ etc. Almost the only other vowel found in an unstressed syllable in native words in the standard language is a: lagar 'makes~ sola 'the sun'. In some dialects, especially in the east, other vowels also occur in final syllables: /vi:b/ 'week~ Jhu:sul 'stocking", /ro:no/ 'boar•. These represent the final vowels of oblique cases, and have survived thanks to the principle of vowel hal-

311 Jan Terje Faarlund

ance, a phenomenon peculiar to the eastern dialects. Words that had a short root syllable in Old Norwegian (which has been lengthened since - but that is a different story) did not reduce the vowel of the final syllable. Vowel balance affected mainly three morphological categories: infinitives, weak masculine nouns, and weak feminine nouns. As a result, eastern dialects have two morphological types within each of these categories. One type are the "unbalanced" words, the ones with a historically long root syllable, which have a reduced vowel (schwa) in the final syllable. The other type consists of the balanced words, with other vowels in the second syllable. Unbalanced Balanced Iafinitive skrive 'write' laga 'make'

MasculiDe mdne 'moon' lunul 'rooster' Feminine jente 'girl' viku 'week' In this regard the Nynorsk standard reflects the eastern system only partly. The infinitive has parallel main forms in -a or -e, regardless of whether they are

balanced or not. These are the two variants of western dialects, where the principle of vowel balance did not apply. But as a subsidiary system, the infinitival ending may shift between -a and -e in accordance with the principle of vowel balance: lcaste 'throw', skrive 'write~ vs. vera 'be~ laga 'make~ For weak masculine nouns, the -e is generalized in Nynorsk: mdne 'moon', hane 'rooster", rdne 'boar~ The weak feminines have the ending -e as the main form, and -a as a subsidiary form, regardless of the principle of balance: jente [jenta] 'girl~ veke [veka] 'week~ etc.

Consonants

Single and double consonant As already alluded to, Old Norwegian root syllables could be short; some words

had a root syllable consisting of a short vowel followed by a short consonant (Faarlund 1994:44). This is an impermissible syllable structure in most contemporary dialects of Norwegian. Either the vowel or the consonant has been lengthened. This has led to another distinction between eastern and westem dialects. The main tendency has been for western dialects to lengthen the vowel, while eastern dialects have generally lengthened (geminated) the oonsonant. This has yielded pairs such as (western followed by eastern variant): /de:ma/-/clem.ma/'to judge~ /ve:nl-/venn/ 'friend~ /sko:t/-/skett/ 'shot', etc.

The Nynorsk standard languase and Norwqian varieties 3lt

Standard Nynorsk orthography makes certain allowances to the eastern forms, but not entirely and not consistently. Many words have parallel forms with long vowels or long consonants (according to Norwegian spelling conventions, a vowel followed by a single consonant in a stressed syllable is long, one followed by a double consonant is short): skott/skot 'shot~ kjfJtt/kjlt 'meat', venn!ven 'friend~ lcommalkoma 'come~ etc. In other cases the Nynorsk standard goes even further in conforming to eastern dialects, since the form with a single consonant only has subsidiary status: gammal [gamal] 'old~ dommar [domar] 'a judge~ etc. But for many other words only forms with a single consonant are allowed: gut 'boy: ~n 'green~ etc. Here again there is an inconsistency in Nynorsk orthography, and therefore it is even more difficult to learn, regardless of dialect background. A stricter norm and less optionality would make it more learnable, which could be achieved for example by generalizing single consonants to all the relevant words.

Initial xw- clusters Many Old Norwegian words start with the consonant cluster /xw/, spelt hv: hvitr 'white~ hvalr 'whale~ In southeastern Norway, the initial/xi was lost: /vi:t/, /va:rJ. (The /w/ changed to /vi in all ofNorway.) In all other parts of the country, initial/xw/ changed to !kv/: /kv:it/, /kva:r./. Standard Nynorsk consistently uses the spelling lev in all those words. Interrogative words have undergone a different development from regular lexical words in many dialects, especially in the east, where typical wh-words now begin with /hi, or the initial consonant cluster may have been lost altogether: /(h)o:/ 'what', /(h)okb/ 'who~ In Nynorsk wh-words are spelt with an initial lev: leva 'what', Ieven 'who~ lcvar 'where'. Thus eastern forms are not represented in standard Nynorsk.

Loss of final r In the standard language, both nouns and verbs have inflectional forms ending in a vowel followed by r. Those are the indefinite plural of nouns: lulnar 'roosters', greiner 'branches'; and the present tense of weak verbs: lagar 'makes~ lcviler 'rests: I most parts of Norway, with the exception of the east and certain parts of the southwest, this r has been lost in all or most inflectional categories. In the east the r is maintained, except in the present of weak verbs in Hedmark. Common forms outside the east are hana, greine, laga. lcvile. Thus eastern di-

320 Jan Terje Faarlund

alects are more in agreement with the Nynorsk standard than other dialects, including those in the Nynorslc strongholds in the west.

Verbal inflection The present tense of strong verbs In Old Norwegian the present tense of strong verbs had the suffix -r: bltr 'bites~

liggr 'lies~ Eventually this t disappeared in a large eastern and northern area stretching from the central east all the way up through northern Norway. In this area we find present tense forms such as bit, ligg. This is in full agreement with the Nynorsk main forms. In the rest of the country, the southeast, the south, and the west (covering all the Nynorsk strongholds), an epenthetic vowel (mostly a schwa) was introduced before the r. In the area where there was a general loss of r after vowels in unstressed syllables (as described in the previous section) the r was lost, resulting in forms such as bite, ligge. But in the southern dialects of Eastern Norwegian, the r was maintained, and the present tense forms there are biter, ligger. Those forms are subsidiary forms in Nynorsk, but they are practically never used in writing. The main forms in Nynorsk with a zero suffix in the present tense of strong verbs then cover the central parts of the east. The variety with -er represents the spoken dialect in the southeast, and - if we consider the loss of final/r/ a purely phonological phenomenon - all of the west. Those forms are, however, almost totaUy absent from written texts. A proposal to remove them from the standard would not violate either the literary tradition nor the dialects of Eastern Norway. Perfect participle of strong verbs The perfect participle of strong verbs end in a vowel (e or i) in Nynorsk and in most dialects. But some strong verbs have •weak" participles. Some of them are unique forms and are used in all dialects: blitt 'become~ gdtt 'gone~ etc. Others are parallel forms together with genuine strong forms: glidelglidt 'slid~ bedelbedt 'asked', etc. Others again have a strong main form with a weak subsidiary form: drege [dratt] 'drawn~ telce [tatt] 'taken~ The weak forms may be seen partly as a result of analogical leveling under the intluence of the more numerous weak verbs, but they may also represent a Bokmll superstratum. Those

The Nynorsk standard languase and Norwqian varieties

forms are particularly widespread in urban speech, but are also spreading to rural dialects in the east. Strong participles ending in a vowel is a characteristic feature of Nynorsk and represents the system of central eastern dialects. A proposal to elevate the strong forms to unique or at least main forms and thus abolish many analogical or Bokm.U forms would thus both make Nynorsk more consistent and more in accordance with traditional dialects.

Nominal inflection

A very basic and deep-rooted feature ofNynorsk morphology is the differentiation between masculine and feminine plural endings. Regular masculine nouns form their plural by adding -ar: gutar 'boys~ hestar 'horses~ and regular feminines by adding -er: jenter 'girls', greiner 'branches~ This is a challenge for Easterners writing Nynorsk. since in eastern dialects (except those furthest to the south) masculine and feminine nouns have the same endings in the indefinite plural: gutter, jenter, hester, greiner. In the definite plural, however, there is a systematic correspondence between eastern dialects and Nynorsk. In this form, the masculines have a and the feminines e. The definite plural in the central dialects are hesta 'the horses', gutta 'the boys~jenten 'the girls~ greinen 'the branches'. Corresponding Nynorsk forms are hestane, gutane, jentene, greinene. In ancient Nordic, plural formation was not primarily dependent on gender but on stem class (Faarlund 2003). This system is still clearly seen in Old Norwegian, and there are traces of it in some modern dialects and in Nynorsk. Therefore there are certain exceptions to the plural formation rules given above. Certain feminines, especially those derived by means of the suffix -ing, and also some others, form their plural with a: kjerringane 'the old women', elvane 'the rivers~ And certain masculines, especially those ending in -nad, and also some others, form their plural with e: s11knadene 'the applications~ gjestene 'the guests~ In eastern dialects these exceptions do not exist. Definite plural formation is entirely dependent on gender: lcjerringen, elven, s111cnada, gjesta.

321

3D Jan Terje Faarlund

Pronouns First person singular A clear watershed between the east and the rest of Norway is the shape of the first person singular pronoun. In the east it has an initial j: /je:/, /jz://jzi/, while other dialects have forms without the j: /e:/, /z:/, /e:g/, etc. The standard

Nynorsk form eg naturally represents the latter, and it is one of the features which most serves to alienate Easterners from Nynorsk. Second person plural The central eastern dialects have a case distinction /di:/-/dekk/ (with varying vowels across the dialects). This corresponds to Nynorsk de-dylclc. Further south this system has been replaced by the form dere for both cases-as in Bokmll. Even in other parts of the east, and in the rest of the country, there is a strong tendency towards merging the two cases in the 2nd person plural (as in the 3rd person). The accusative form then is generalized to both cases.

Third person In the singular the system in eastern dialects is quite complex. Besides a case distinction between nominative and accusative, there is also a distinction between a full form and ditic form.

da stlg hu hann then saw SHE HIM da stlg hann henner then saw HE HER clitic forms: da stl(a'n then saw-she-him daid(n'a then saw-he-her full forms:

In addition, the old masculine dative may be used as a stressed accusative form: da sdg'a lulnnom 'then saw-she HIM~ The Nynorslc standard makes no formal distinction between full and ditic forms, but there are paraDel accusative forms for the masculine (luln/honom 'him') and for the feminine (ho/henne 'her'). In the 3rd. person plural, Eastern Norwegian has no case distinction. All the dialects have a form ending in -m, while the root vowel may vary across the

The Nynorsk standard languase and Norwqian varieties Pl

dialects: /dum/, Idem/, /dzrn/, Idem/. The Nynorsk form is dei for both cases. While the forms are different, the system is the same: no case distinction in the 3rd person plural.

Vocabulary Many traditional Norwegian words that are promoted through Nynorsk purism are still in use in eastern dialects. The verb byrja (for Dano-Norwegian begynne 'begin~ which is also accepted in Nynorsk) is one example. Another is the modal verb lyt 'must~ In Bokmll, and also in many varieties of Nynorsk, this verb is replaced by mt1. The borrowed Dano-Norwegian nominalizing suffixes -heit and -else also exist in Eastern Norwegian as in other Norwegian dialects, but traditional derivational suffixes are still used in words such as sanning 'truth' (Bokmll sannhet) and storlek 'size• (Bokmll stMrelse). Like other Norwegian dialects, the eastern dialects have many old words of Low German and Danish origin (Skjekkeland 1999), and to the extent that those are accepted in Nynorsk, it will also be a language representing those dialects (Faarlund 1998b).

Conclusions Many Easterners perceive Nynorsk as a language of western Norway. One reason may be that when Nynorsk is heard in the media, it is most often spoken by someone with a western accent. Another factor may be that a few very frequent words are different in Nynorsk and Eastern Norwegian, such as the 1st person singular pronoun eg vs. eastern je etc., and the negation ikkje vs. eastern itte. The above survey shows, however, that eastern forms are well represented by the Nynorsk standard language, even if the standard is going to be restricted along those lines that the Norwegian Language Council has proposed.

Notes L TheR is in fact only one good reason why I would contribute to a Festschrift for a sociolinguist. The reason is that the sociolinguist in question is a very good friend and admired linguist. In fact. be is not only a friend of the author of this article, but a friend of Norway (which bas earned him the title of noregsven 'friend of Norway, which is the most honor-

324 Jan Terje Faarlund able thing a foreigner can be called in Norway), and of tbinp Norwegian, such as Norwegian language policy (which bas very few other friends). Therefore Peter has already read a Norwqian version of this article (Faarlund 1999). And since he was generous and careless enough to even praise it, he now has to prove his friendship with Norway by enduring this revised, adapted, and translated version. For a comprehensive description of Norwegian dialectology, cf. Sandey ( 1987); information in English can be found in Reyneland (forthcoming).

2.

3- Some conservative forms with a rather wide geographical distribution have also been

reduced to subsidiary forms, such as the definite article i instead of a for the singular of strong feminines and the plural of neuters. 4- The system of two levels has now been abolished for BokmiL

s.

'Main form' is a translation of Norwegian hovudform; 'subsidiary form' is sideform, 'unique form' is eineform, and 'alternate form' is jamstilt form.

6. Those readers fiuniliar with Norwegian dialectology should keep in mind that the term 'eastern Norwegian' or 'eastern dialect(s)' is used here as a translation of the traditional Norwegian term austlandsk, not austnorslc; the latter term also includes the dialects ofliendelag, Nordmere, and the mountainous regions of southern Norway (midlandmuil).

7· Corresponding to opplandsmdl in traditional Norwegian dialectological terminology. 8. In accordance with established practice in Norwegian dictionaries and prescriptive gram-

mars, subsidiary forms are written within brackets and parallel forms between slashes.

References Aasen, I. ( 1864). Norsk Grammatik. Kristiania: Mailing. Aasen, I. ( 1958). Brev og DGgbtllcer, Vol2. Oslo: Samlaget. Faarlund, }. T. (1985). Kva beiter nynorslc pl engelskl Sprdlcnytt. 13.1, 15-16. Faarlund, J. T. (1994). OldandMiddleScandinavian.In E. KOnig& J. vander Auwera (Eds.),

The Gemulnic Languages (pp. 38-71). London: Routledge. Faarlund, J. T. ( 1997). Nynorskens problem- nynorskens skuldf Sprdklig Samling. 2. 6-9. Faarlund, J. T. (1998a). Ny laereboknormal for nynorsk. Sprdknytt, 26.1, 1-3. Faarlund, J. T. (1998b). Mellom det ensk.jdege og det moglege: vitskaplege og politiske rammer for normering av ordtilfang. In J. T. Faarlund (Ed.), Ordtilfanget i Nynorsk synsmdtar og ~' (pp. 29-37). Oslo: Norsk sprlkdd Faarlund, }. T. (1999). Norma i nynorsk sedd i beve til austLandsm81a. In T. Kleiva et al (Eels.), Austlandsmdl i endring (pp. 205-219). Oslo: Samlaget. Faarlund, J. T. (2003). Early Northwest Germanic. In R. D. Woodard (Ed.), Encyclopedia of flu World~ Ancient Languages (pp. 881-895). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Meshtrie. R., Swann, J•• Deumert, A., & leap, W. M. (2000). Introducing SocioUnguistics. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Redningen, D. (1999). Ottadalen - ein utforbalcke til BolanAlet? Spdkproblem og sprlkskifte blant ungdom i Lom, Skjlk og Vlgl. In T. Kleiva et al (Eds.), Austlandsmdl i endring (pp. 2~258). Oslo: Samlaget

The Nynorsk standard languase and Norwqian varieties 3Z5

Reyneland, U. (forthcoming). Dialects in Norway- catching up with the rest ofEurope~ In W. Jongenburger (Ed.), An Dialects in Europe Dying? Special issue of the lntm~~~tional Joumtll of tht Sociology ofLanguage. Sandey, H. (1987). Norsk Dialtktlcunnslcap. Oslo: Novus. Skjekkeland, M. ( 1999). Ty.sk-Dansh Ldnord i Nynorslc og i Bygdenulla. Kristiansand: Hepkolen i Agder. Vlbr, L S. (1975). The New Norse Llmguagt Movmrent. Oslo: Novus.

Peter Trudgill's publications

1972a. Sex. covert prestige and linguistic change in the urban British English of Norwich. Language in Society, 1, 179-195. 1972b. Review of Man~ Many Voices: Language in its Cultural Context by R. Burling. Journal ofLinguistics. 8, 306-311. 1973a. Phonological rules and sociolinguistic variation in Norwich English. In C. J. Bailey & R. W. Shuy (Eds.). New Ways of Analysing Varimion in English (pp. 149-163). Washington, OC: Georgetown University Press. 1973b. Unguistic change and diffusion: description and explanation in sociolinguistic dialect geography. Langut.Jge in Society, 3, 215-246. 1973c. Review of Pidginisation and Creolisation of LanguagtS by D. Hymes (Ed.). Journal of Linguistics, 9, 193-195. 1974a. The Social DiffermtiiJtion ofEnglish in Norwich. London: Cambridge UDMrsity Press. 1974b. Sociolinguistics: An Introduction. [Reprinted 17 times) London: Penguin. 1974c, with Giles, H., Bourhis, R., & Lewis, A. The imposed norm hypothesis: a validation. Quarterly Journal of Speech, 60,405-410. 1975a. Accent, Dilll«t and the SchooL London: Edward Arnold. 1975b. Linguistic geography and geographical linguistics. In C. Board, R. Chorley, P. Haget, & D. Stoddart (Eds.}, Progress in Geography: Intematiorud Reviews in Cumnt Reseorch 7 (pp. 227-252). London: Edward Arnold. 1975c. Sociolinguistics and Scots dialects. In J. D. McClure (Ed.), The Scots Language in Edua~tion [Occasional Papers no. 31) (pp. 28-34}. Aberdeen: Association for Scottish Literary Studies. 1975d, with 'IZavaras, G. A. A sociolinguistic study of Albanion dillleas spo1cm in the Attica and Biotia amu ofGreece. London: Social Scien~ Research Council Report. 1975e. Reprint of Sex. covert prestige and linguistic clu~nge in the urban British English of Norwich. In B. Thome & N. Henley (Eds.},!Anguage and Sex: Difference and Dominance (pp. 88-104}. Massachusetts: Newbury House. 1975f. Review of Class, Codes and Control by B. Bernstein. Journal ofLinguistics, 11, 147-151. 1976a. Sprlk og kjenn i det engelske sprlket [Language and sex in the English language]. In E. Ryen (Ed.), SprtJk og kjtmn (pp. 155-169). Oslo: Novus. 1976b. Swedish translation of Sociolinguistics: An Introduction [SprtJk och social miljiJ]. Stockholm: Norstedt 1976c. Japanese translation of Sociolinguistics: An Introducrion. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten.

328 Peter 'Ihldgill's publications 1976d. Chapters 1 and 4 of Sociolinguistics: An Introduction republished as Language and Society, with notes in Japanese by Kiyoshi Awaka. Tokyo: Tsurumi Shoten. 1977a. Language disadvantase: further discussion. Northern Ireland Speech and Language Forum ]ourru~t 3, 37-43. 1977b, with Tzavaras, G. A. Why Albanian-Greeks are not Albanians: language shift in Attica and Biotia. In H. Giles (Ed.), Language, Ethnicity, and Intergroup Relations [European Monographs in Social PsytholoSY 13) (pp. 171-184). London: Academic Press. 1978a (Ed.). Sociolinguistic Patterns in British English. London: Edward Arnold. 1978b. Introduction: sociolinguistics and sociolinguistics. In P. 'Iiudgill (Ed.), Sociolinguistic Patterns in British English (pp. 1-18). London: Edward Arnold. 1978c, with Foxaoft, T. On the sociolinguistics of vocalic mergers: transfer and approximation in East Anglia. In P. 'Iiudgill (Ed.), Sociolinguistic Patterns in British English (pp. 69-79). London: Edward Arnold 1978d. Creolisation in reverse: reduction and simplification in the Albanian dialects of Greece. Thmsactions of the Philological Society 1976-77, 32-50. 1978e. Where does sociolinguistics stop? In W. Dressler & W. Meid (Eds.), Proceedings of the 12th International Congrm of Linguists (pp. 53-56}. lnnsbruck: Institut fOr Sprachwissen-schaft der Universitit lnnsbruck. 1978f, with Giles, H. Sociolinguistics and linguistic value judgements: correctness, adequacy and aesthetics. In F. Coppieters & D. Goyvaerts (Eds.), Functional Studies in Language and Literature (pp. 167-180). Gent Story-Scientia. 1979a, with Hughes, A. English Accents and Dialects: An Introduction to Social and Regional Varieties of British English. London: Edward Arnold 1979b. Standard and non-standard dialects of English in the United Kingdom: problems and policies. International ]ourru~l of the Sociology ofLanguage, 21, 9-24. 1979c, with Laver,}. Phonetic and linguistic markers in speech. InK. Scherer & H. Giles (Eds.), Social Markets in Spuch (pp. 1-32). London: Cambridge University Press. 1979d Tal dialekt, skriv dialect! Samtale mellom Peter 'Ihldgill og Ernst lWcon Jahr [Speak dialect, write dialect! Discussion betwmt Peter Trudgill and Ernst Hikon Jahr]. In L. Vlker & G. Wigen (Eds.), Sprlklig Samling pd Follcemdls Grunn (pp. 189-199). Oslo: Novus. 1979e. Norwegian translation of Acant, Dialect and the School (Dialekt og Skole). Oslo: Novus. 1979f.ltalian translation of Accent, Dialect and the School [La Varieta della Lingua Inglese). Bergamo: Minerva ltalica. 1980a, with Chambers,}. K. Dialectology. London: Cambridge University Press. 1980b. Acts of conflicting identity: a sociolinguistic look at British pop songs. In M. W. S. de Silva (Ed.}, Aspects ofLinguistic Behaviour: Festschrift for R. B. Le Pa~ [University of York Papers in Linguistics 9) (pp. 261-277). Uni'Vei'Sity of York, England. 1981. Review of The Linguistic Atlas ofF.ng/llnd by H. Orton, S. Sanderson, & }. Widdowson. Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 79, 425-428. 1982a, with Hannah, J. International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. London: Edward Arnold. 1982b. On Diakct: Social and Geographical Perspectives. Oxford: Blackwell.

Peter 'Ii'udgift's publications :J3t 1982c. Linguistic accommodation: sociolinguistic observations on a socio-psychological theory. In C. Masek. R. Hendrick. & M. Miller (Eels.), Papers from the Parasession on Language and Behavior, Chicago Linguistic Society 1981 (pp. 218-237). Uni~ity of Chicago Press. Also in T. Fmheim & L Hellan (Eds.), Papers from the 6th Scandin~~vian Confertna ofLinguistics (pp. 284-297). Trondbeim: Tapir. 1982d. On the limits of passive 'competence': sociolinguistics and the polylectal grammar controversy. In D. Crystal (Ed.), Linguistic Contnwmies: Essays in Linguistic Theory and Practice in Honour ofF. R. Palmer (pp. 172-191). London: Edward Arnold. 1982e. The contribution of sociolinguistics to dialectology. Language Sciences. 4(2), 237250.

1982f. Malay translation of Sociolinguistics: An Introduction [Sosiolinguistik].ICuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa Dan Pustaka. 1982g. Coping wirh America: A Beginner's Guide to rhe USA. Oxford: Blackwell. 1983a. Sociolinguistics: An Introduction to Language and Society [Revised and extended 2nd edition of Sociolinguistics: An Introduction]. London: Penguin. 1983b. Japanese translation of English Accents and DitJiects: An Introduction to Social and Regional Varieties ofBritish English. Tokyo: I<enkyusha. 1983c. Italian translation of Dialectology. Bologna: ll Mulino. 1983d. Reprint of Sex. covert prestige and linguistic change in the urban British English of Norwich. In V. Aebischer & C. Ford (Eds.), Parlers Masculins, Parlers Feminins. Switzerland: Delachaus and Niestle. 1983e. Reprint of Standard and non-standard dialects of English in the United Kingdom: problems and policies. In M. Stubbs & H. Hillier (Eds.), ReAdings on Language, Schools and Classrooms. London: Methuen. 1984a (Ed.). Language in the British Isles. London: Cambridge Univn"Sity Press. 1984b (Ed.). Applied Sociolinguistics. London: Academic Press. 1984c, with Edwards, V. & Weltens, B. The Grammar ofEnglish Dialect: A Survey ofRnearch. London: Economic and Social Research Council 1984d. Reprint of Sex. covert prestige and linguistic clumge in the urban British English of Norwich. In J. Baugh & J. Sherzer (Eds.), Readings in Language, Culture and Society. Austin: Uni~ity of Texas Press. 1984e. Japanese edition of Coping with America: A Beginner's Guide to the USA, with notes in Japanese. Tokyo. 1985a, with Hannah, J.Intemational English: A Guide to Varietia of Standard English (2nd edition). London: Edward Arnold. 1985b. Scandinavian sociolinguistics: an outsider's view. Norsk Lingvistislci Tulsskrift. 1, 3443. 1985c, with Walton, S. To engelsbnenn om norsk sprlkpolitikk [1\vo Englishmen on Norwegian linguistic politics]. Syn og Segn. 4, 355-360. 1985d. The pronunciation of IV in Sphakia, Crete. University of Retuling Working Papers in Phonetics, 5, 97-101. 1985e. Review ofTalemdlet i skolen by E. H. Jahr. Scandinavica. 24(2), 248-249. 1985f. Coping with America: A Beginner's Guide to the USA (2nd edition). Oxford: Blackwell. 1986a. Dialects in Contact. Oxford: Blackwell.

330 Peter "Ihldgill's publications

1986b. The role of Irish English in the fonnation of colonial Englishes. In J. Harris, D. Little, & D. Singleton (Eds.), Pmpectives on the English IAnfllllft in Ireland (pp. 3-7). Dublin: Centre for Language and Communication Studies, llinity College. 1986c. Dialect mixture and the analysis of colonial dialects: the case of Canadian raising. In H. Warkentyne (Ed.), Methods in Dialectology 5 (pp. 35-46). Canada: University of Victoria Press. 1986d. Japanese translation of International English: A Guide to Varieties ofStmulard English. Tokyo: Kenkyusba. 1987a, with Hughes, A. English Accmts and Dialects: An Introduction to Social and Regional Varieties of British English. London: Edward Arnold. 1987b. Review of Studies in Ditdect Geography by J. Kirk et al. ]ournal of Linguistics. 23(2), 491-492. 1987c. Review ofSprdlc og samfrm by K. Venu. Norslc Lingvistisk Tulskrift, 112-114. 1987d. Korean translation of Dialectology. 1987e. Portuguese translation of Coping with America: A Beginner's Guide to the USA [Sua V~agem aos Estados Unidos]. Rio de Janeiro: Cedibra. 1988a. On the role of dialect contact and interdialect in linguistic change. In J. F"uiak (Ed.), Historical Ditdectology (pp. 547-563). Berlin: Mouton de GruyteL 1988b. Norwich revisited: recent changes in an English urban dialect. English World Wule, 9, 3.3-49. 1989a. Intmanguage. interdialect and typological change. In S. Gus, C. Madden, D. Preston, & L Selinker (Eds.), Variation in Second Language Acquisition: Psycholinguistic Issua (pp. 244-253). Oevedon: Multilingual Matters. 1989b, with Cheshire, J. Dialect and education in the United Kingdom. In J. Cheshire, V. Edwa.rck, H. MOnstermann, & B. Weltens (Eels.), Dialect and EduCiltion: Some European Perspectives (pp. 94-109). Clemion: Multilingual Matters. 1989c. Language contact and simplification. Nordlyd, 15, 113-121. 1989d. Contact and isolation in linguistic change. In L E. Breivik & E. H. Jahr (Eels.), lAnguage Change: Contributions to the Study ofits Causes (pp. 227-237). Berlin: Mouton deGruyter. 1989e. The sociopbonetics of Ill in the Greek of Spbakia. Journal of the International PhoneticsAssociation, 15(2),18-22. 1989f. Review of FolkerruJI og Dtu~~~ing by B. Birkeland & B. N. Kvalsvik; and of Der Purismus in Nynorsk by W. Gerdener. Samdinavica, 8, 110-112. 1990a. The Dialects ofEngland. Oxford: BlackweO. 1990b, with Andersson, L G. Bad language. London: Penguin (pbk), and Oxford: Blackwell (bbk). 1990c. Dialect geography. In E. Polom~ (Ed.), IWearch Guide on lAnguage Change (pp. 257271). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 1990d. Review ofSoziolinguistilc (2 vols.) by U. Ammon, N. Dittmar, & K. Mattheier (Eds.). Sociolinguistics, 4, 191-195. 1990e. Review of Lectures on lAnguage Contact by I. Lebiste; and of lAnguage Contact. Creolization, and Genetic Linguistics by S. Thomason & T. Kaufman. ]oumal of Linguistics, 26(2 ), 513-517.

Peter 'Ii'udgift's publications 331 1990f. Review of Vdrt eget sprdlc (3 vols.) by E. B. Johnsen (Ed.). SaJndinavica, 29(1), 279281. 1990g, with Hannah, J. 'Ifanslation from Norwegian of Code-switching in Hemnesberpt: myth or mdity? by B. Mzhlum. In E. H. Jahr (Ed.), Troms•Linguistics in the Eighties. Oslo: Novus. 1990b. Malay translation of Ditllectology. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa Dan Pustaka. 1990g. French translation of Coping with America: A Beginner's Guide to 1M USA [£tDts-Unis. Moded'emploi). Paris: Editions Belfond 1991a (Ed.), with Chambers, J. IC. English Dialects: Studies in Grammatiall Variation. London: Longman. 1991b. Dialect contact and dialect mixture: the Svalbard perspective. In I. Brocb (Ed.), Forskning om Mennesker pd Svalbard (pp. 103-108). Oslo: Norges Allmennvitenslcapelige Forskningsdd 1991c. Language maintenance and language shift: preservation versus atinction. lntemational]oumal ofApplied Linguistics 1(1), 61~9. 1992a.lntroducing Langrmge and Society. London: Penguin. 1992b. Dialect contact. dialectology and sociolinguistics. In IC. Bolton & H. Kwok (Eds.), Sociolinguistics Today: International Perspectives (pp. 71-79). London: Routledge. 1992c. The Ausbau sociolinguistics of minority languages in western and central Europe. In G. Blom, P. Graves, A. Kruse, & B. T. Thomsen (Eds.), Minority Langusges: The Samdinavian Experience (pp. 11-20). Oslo: Nordic Language Secretariat. 1992d. Dialect typology and social structure. In E. H. Jahr (Ed.), lAnguage Contact: Theoretical and Empiriall Studies (pp. 195-212). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 1992e. The Ausbau sociolinguistics of minority languages in Greece. Plurilinguismes, 5, 167191. 1992f. Sociolinguistics. InT. McArthur (Ed), The Oxford ComptJnion to 1M English Language (pp. 946-948). Oxford University Press. 1992g. The Ausbau sociolinguistics of Greek as a majority and minority language. In M. Makri-Tsilipakoo (Ed.), Proceedings of the 6th International Symposium on the Description and/or Comparison of English and Greek (pp. 213-235). Thessaloniki: Aristotle Uni'Wersity. 1992h. Ausbao sociolinguistics and the perception of language status in contemporary Europe. International Journal ofApplied Linguistics. 2{2), 167-177. 1992i. Reprint of Norwich revisited: m:ent changes in an English urban dialect. In M. Piitz (Ed.), Thirty ~ars of Linguistic Evolution: Papers in Honour oflUnl Dirven (pp. 361377). Amsterdam: Benjamins. 1993a. Dialect typology: phonological aspects. In G. Aurrekoetxm & X. Videgain {Eds.), Nazioarteko Dit:dtlctologia Biltzarra: Agiriak (pp. 659-666). Bilboa: Euskaltzaindia. 1993b. Present directions in dialectology. In I. Marl (Ed.), Segon Congrls lntmuu:ional de Ia Llengua Catalana. VoL 4: Linguistiar Social (pp. 15-17). Palma: Universitat de les lUes Balears. 1993c. with Jahr, E. H. Parallels and differences in the linguistic development of Modem Greek and Modem Norwegian. In E. H. Jahr (Ed.), Language Conflict and Language Planning (pp. 83-98). Berlin: Mouton de Groyter. 1994a. Dialects. London: Routledge.

3P Peter 1hldgill's publications

1994b, with Hannah, J. International English: A Guide to Varieties ofSt4ndard English (3rd edition). London: Edward Arnold. 1994c. Language contact and dialect contact in linguistic change. In U.-B. Kotsinas & J. Helgander (Eds.), Dialelctlcontalct, Sprdklcontakt och SprdkiJrllndring in Norden (pp. 13-22). Stockholm University Press. 1994d, with Mansfield. P. A sex-specific linguistic feature in a European dialect. Multilingu4, 13(4), 181-186. 1994e. Review of Med Sprdket pd Flyttefot: Sprdkvariasjon og Sprdlcstrategier .Blant Setad1ler i Kristiansand by H. Omdal. Norsk Lingvistisk Tidsslcrift, 12, 235-237. 1994£. Spanish translation of Dialectology (Dialeaogia ]. Madrid: VISOr Libros. 199Sa. Sociolinguistics: An Introduaion to Language and Society (3rd edition). London: Penguin. 1995b, with Hughes, A. English Accents and Dialects: An Introduction to Social and Regional Varieties of British English (3rd edition). London: Edward Arnold. 1995c. Grammaticalisation and social structure: nonstandard conjunction-formation in East Anglian English. In F. R. Palmer (Ed.), Grammt~r and Semantics: Papers in Honour ofJohn Lyons (pp. 136-147). Cambridge University Press. 1995d. Linguistic oppression and the non-native speaker. Journal of Pragmatics, 24, 20-23. 1995e. Sociolinguistic studies in Norway 1970-1991: a aitical overview. Intemational Journal oftheSociologyofLanguage. 115,7-23. 1995f. Dialect and dialects in Britain and Europe. The Europetm English Messenger, 4(3), 44-46.

1995g. Dialelrtusok es szociolektusok az uj Europaban. VaLSsdg. 11, 107-110. 1996a. Language contact and inherent variability: the absence of hypercorrection in East Anglian pment-tense verb forms. In J. Klemola, M. Kyt6, & M. Rissanen (Eds.), Speech Past and Present: Studies in English Dialectology in Memory ofOssi Ihalainen (pp. 412425). Frankfurt: Peter Lang. 1996b. Dual source pidgins and reverse aeoles: northern perspectives on language contact. In I. Brocb & E. R Jahr (Eds.), Language Contact in the Arctic: Northem Pidgins and Contaa Languages (pp. 5-14). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 1996c. Dialect typology: isolation, social network and phonological structure. In G. Guy et al. (Eds.), Towards a Social Science ofLanguage: Papm in Honour ofWrllUnn Labov. "'L 1: Variation and Change in Langrulge and Society (pp. 3-22). Amsterdam: Benjamins. 1996d. Spanish translation of Language amttu:t and inherent variability: the absence of hyperconection in FAst Anglian present-tense verb forms (Contacto lingQistico y variabilidad inherente: Ia ausencia de bipercorreccion en las formas verbales de pmente de East Anglia). In P. D. de Revenga & J. M. Jimenez Cano (Eds.), Estudios de Sociolingiiistica: Sinmmia y Diacronia (pp. 243-253). Murcia: DM Librero-Editor. 1996e. Standard English and the national cuniculum. The Europe~~n English Messenger, 5( 1), 63-65. 1996f. 'IWo hundred )UI'S of dedialectalisation: the East Anglian short vowel system. In M. Thelander (Ed.), Samspel och Variation: Sprdkliga Studier Rillagnade Bengt Nordberg pt160-Arsdagm (pp. 471-478). Sweden: Uppsala University.

Peter 'Ii'udgift's publications 333 1996s- Az olvas6kanyvek & a nyelv~ ideol6gia [Schoolbooks and linguistic ideology]. In I. Csernicsk6 & T. Varadi (Eds.), Kisebbsigi nlllfYtlT iskolai nyelvhaszruflat (pp. 1-10). Budapest: Tmta K6nyvkiad6 is Kiadvlnyszerkeszt6 Bt. 1996h. Review of English Words by F. KatambL The Times Higher Eductltion Supplement, Mayl7. 1997a (Ed.), with Singy, P. Communication et Pragmatique Interculturelles [Bulletin Suisse de Linguistique Appliquee 65]. Neuchatd: VALS/ASLA. 1997b. British vernacular dialects in the formation of American English: the case of East Anglian do. In R. Hickey & S. Puppet (Eds.), Linguistic History and Linguistic ModeUin~ A Festschrift for ]lu:e1c FisitJ/c on his 60th Birthday (pp. 749-758). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 1997c. Hunprian translation of Introducing Lllnguage and Society [Bevezetb a nyelv Is tdrsadalom tanulmdnyozAsdbcl]. Szeged: JGYTF Kiad6. 1998a (Ed.), with Cheshire, J. The Sociolinguistics Rttlder: Multilingualism and Variation. London: Edward Arnold. 1998b (Ed.), with Cheshire,}. The Sociolinguistics Reader. Gender and Discourse. London: Edward Arnold. 1998c, with Chambers,}. K. Dialectology (2nd edition). Cambridge University Press. 1998d (Ed.), with Bauer, L Langutlfe Myths. London: Penguin. 1998e. The meanings of words should not be allowed to vary or change. In L Bauer & P. Trudgill (Eds.), Lllnguage Myths (pp. 1-8). London: Penguin. 1998f, with Gordon, E. & lewis, G. New dialect formation and Southern Hemisphere English: the New Zealand short front vowels. JourMI ofSociolinguistics. 2(1 ), 35-S 1. 19988- Norwegian as a normal Jansuage. In U. Reyneland (Ed.), Language Contact and Lllnguage Conflict (pp. 151-158). Volda: lvar Aasen Institute. 1998h.lfpology and sociolinguistics: linguistic structure, social structure and explanatory comparative dialectology. Folia Linguistica, 31 (3/4 ), 349-360. 1998i. Third-person singular zero: African American vernacular English, East Anglian dialects and Spanish persecution in the Low Countries. Folia Linguistia~ KutoriCII. 18(112). 139-148. 1998j. Standard English: what it isn't. The European English Messenger, 7(2 ), 34-39. 1998k, with Prmderpst, D., Kacbru, B., Mufwene, S., Singh, R., & Todd, L Views on Englisbes. Lin/a and Letters. 5, 225-241. 1998L Dialect and dialects in the new Europe. Etudes de 1ettres [Universiti de Lausanne] 1997(4),19-32. 1998m. The chaos before the order: New Zealand English and the second stage of newdialect formation. In E. H. Jabr (Ed.), Lllnguage Clulnge: Advances in KutoriCIII Sociolinguistics (pp. 1-11). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 1998n. Concept de genres, prestige latent et inskuriti linguistique. In P. Singy (Ed.), Les Femmes et Ia Langue: L'inskuriti Linguistique en Question (pp. 37-60). Lausanne: Ddacbaux et Niesdi. 1998o. Dedialectalisation and Norfolk dialect orthography. In M. Atkinson (Ed.), If You See What I Mean: Essays Presented to Keith Brown (pp. 147-152). Colchester. Essex University Languages and Linguistics Department.

334 Peter "Ihldgill's publications

1998p. The great East Anglian merger mystery. In R. Jolim & F. Heossi (Eds.), Mlklnges Offerts en Homm~~ge aMortieZIZ Mahmoudian. Tome II. [Cahim de l'ILSL 111 (pp. 415423). University of Lausanne. 1998q. 'Short o' in East Anglia and New England. In J. Ftsiak (Ed.), Studia Anglial Pomaniensia 33 [Festschrift forK. Saajavara] (pp. 445-450). 1998r. World English: convergence or divergence? In H. Lindqvist, S. Klintborg, M. Levin, & M. Estling (Eds.), The .Major Varieties ofEnglish (pp. 29-36). Vixjo Uni"Versity: Acta Wexionensis. 1998s. When death is unspoken. Review of Endsrrgeml Ltmguages: Current Issues and Future Prospects by L. E. Grenoble & L J. Whaley (Eds.). The Tmres Higher Edua~tiorr Supplemerrt, May 8, 26. 1998t Review of lAnguage is Power: The Story of Standard English and its Enemies by J. Honey. JourPUII afSociolinguistcs. 2(3), 457-461. 1998u. Reprint of Language conttu:t and inherent variability: the absence of hypercorrection in East Anglian present-tense verb forms. In P. Trudgill & J. Cheshire (Eds.), The Sociolinguistics Reader: Multilingualism and Variation, (pp. 103-112). London: Edward Arnold. 1999a. The Dialects ofEngltuul (2nd edition). Oxford: BlackweO. 1999b. Dialect contact, dialectology and sociolinguistics. Cuademos de Filologia Inglesa, 8, 1-8. 1999c. Standard English: what it isn't InT. Bex & R. J. Watts (Eds.), Standard English: The Wrdening Debate (pp. 117-128). London: Routledge. 1999d. A Southern Hemisphere East Anglian: New Zealand English as a resource for the study of 19th century British English. In U. Carls & P. Lucko (Eds.), Form. Function and Variation in English: Studies in Honour of Klaus Hansen (pp. 169-174). Berlin: Peter Lang. 1999e. Norwich: endogenous and exogenous linguistic change. In P. Foulkes & G. Doherty (Eds.), Urban Voices: Accent Studies in the British Isles (pp. 124-140). London: Edward Arnold. 1999£. Dedialectalisation and Norfolk dialect orthography. In L Tavitsainen, G. Melchers, & P. Pahta (Eds.) Writing in Nonsttuu.ltud English, (pp. 323-330). Amsterdam: Benjamins. 1999g. Accommodation between dialects. In Michael D. Linn (Ed.), Handbook of Dialects and Llln~ Variation (2nd edition) (pp. 307-342). London: Academic Press. 1999h. Comagmce and divergence in English English, and East Anglian dialects. In C. Paradis (Ed.), Recent »ends in the Pronunciation of English: Social, Regional and Attitudinal Aspects (pp. 7-14). Stockholm: Almqvist and WlkseD. 1999i, with Faarlund, J. T. Pseudo-coordination in English: the 'try and' problem. Zeitschrift far Anglistik und Ameriluulistilc, 47(3), 210-213. 1999j, with Britain, D. Migration, new-dialect formation and sociolinguistic refunctionalisation: reallocation as an outcome of dialect contact TrtmstJCtions of the Philological Society. 97(2), 245-256. 1999k. New-dialect formation and dedialectalization: embryonic and vestigial variants. Journal of English Linguistics, 27(4), 319-327. 19991. A window on the past: 'colonial lag' and New Zealand evidence for the phonology of 19th-century English. Amniam Speech, 74(3), 1-11.

Peter 'Ii'udgift's publications 335 1999m. Language contact and the function of linguistic gender. Poznan Studies in Contemporary Linguistics, 35, 133-152. 1999n, with Gordon, E. Shades of things to come: embryonic variants in New Zealand English sound changes. English World- Wule. 20( 1), 111-124. 1999o. Review of Language Contact and Change in the Austrorresian World by T. Dutton &: D.'Iiyon (Eds.). Multilingua. 18(1), 106-108. 1999p. Review of Language Contact Across the North Atlantic by P. S. Ureland &: L Clarkson. Zeitschrift ftir Dialelctologie und Linguistilc, 66(3), 325-327. 2000a. Sociolinguistics: An Introduction to Langut~ge and Society (4th edition). London: Penguin. 2000b, with Gordon, E., Lewis, G., &: Maclagan, M. Determinism in new-dialect formation and the genesis ofNew Zealand English. Journal ofLinguistcs, 36, 299-318. 2000c, with Britain, D. Migration, dialect contact, new-dialect formation and reallocation. In K. Mattheier (Ed.), Dialect and Migration in a Changing Europe (pp. 73-78). Frankfurt: Peter Lang. 2000d, with Ki1arski. M. The function of linguistic gender: a discussion. Poznan Studies in Contemporary Linguistics, 36, 191-202. 2000e, with Gordon, E., Lewis, G., &: Maclasan. M. The role of drift in the formation of Southern Hemisphere Englisbes: some New Zealand evidence. DUichronica, 17( 1), 111138. 2000f. Greece and European Turkey: &om religious to linguistic identity. In S. Barbour &: C. Carmichael (Eds.), Language and Nationalism in Europe (pp. 240-263). Oxford University Press. 2000g. On locating the boundary between language contact and dialect contact: Low German and continental Scandinavian. In E. H. Jabr (Ed.}, Sprdklcontalct: Innverknaden frd Nedertysk pd Andre Nordeuropeiske Sprdk [Skrift nr. 2 &a prosjektet Sprlkbistoriske Prinsipper for Unord i Nordiske Sprlk] (pp. 71-86). Copenhagen: Nordisk Ministerrld. 2000h. Sociolinguistics and sociolinguistics once again. SociolinguistiaJ, 14, 55-59. 2000i, with Kontra. M. If women are being discriminated against, you don't say 'You should become a man: an interview with Peter Ttudgill on sociolinguistics and Standard English. NovEIIy: A Journal of English LangutJge Teoching and Cultural Studies in Hungary, 7(2), 17-30. 2000j. The world is our oyster. In J. Page &: J. Merivale (Eds.), Checlcpoint with Readings: Dew/oping College English Skills (pp. 270-273). Toronto: Pearson Education. 2000k. Spanish translation of Sociolinguistics and sociolinguistcs [SociolingWstica y sociolingllfstica]. In Y. Lastra (Ed.) Estudios de Sociolingiilstica. Mexico: Universidad Nacional.Aut6noma de Mmco. 2000L Review of When East met West: Sociolinguistics in the Former Socialist Bloc by J. Harlig &: C. PI& (Eds.). Multilingua, 19(1/2), 190-195. 2000m. Review of New Zealand English by A. Beft &: K. Kuiper (Eds.). English World-Wule, 21(2), 312-320. 2000n. Review of Dialelclllusgleich im Letzebuergeschen: Zur phonetisch-phonologisch.err Fokussierung einer Nationalsprache by Peter Gilles. International Journal ofthe Sociology ofLanguage.145,211-220.

336 Peter 'lhldgill's publications

2001a (Ed.), with Fisiak, J. East Anglian English. Woodbridge: BoydeU and Brewer. 2001b, with Fisiak, J. East Anglian English: a preface. In J. Fisiak & P. 'lhldgill (Eds.), East Anglian English (pp. ix-xili). Woodbridge: BoydeU and Brewer. 2001c. Modem East Anglia as a dialect area. In J. Fisiak & P. 1hKigill (Eds.), &st Anglian English (pp. 1-12). Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer. 200ld. Reprint of Third-person singu/llr zero: A.friam-American English, FAst Anglian diakcts and Spanish persecution in the Low Countries (1998). In}. Fisialt & P. Uudgill (Eds.), East Anglian EngiUh (pp. 179-186). Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer. 2001e, with Nevalainm, T. & Raumolin-Bnmberg, H. Chapters in the social history of East Anglian English: the case of the third-person singular. In J. Fisiak & P. 'lhldgill (Eds.), Ea.stAnglilm English (pp. 187-204). Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer. 2001£. Sociohistorical linguistics and dialect survival: a note on another Nova Scotian enclave. In M. Ljung (Ed.), Linguistic Structure and Variation: a Festschrift for Gunnel Me/clans (pp. 193-211). Stockholm Uniwrsity Press. 2001g. The Ausbau and Abstand sociolinguistics of linguistic minorities. In P. Nelde & R. Scbjerve (Eds.), Minorities and Language Policy [Plurilingua 22] (pp. 37-44). St. Augustin: Asgard Verlag. 2001b. WeltspracheEnglisch [English as a world language]. In R. Watts & H. Murray(Eds.), Die }Unfte Landessprache?: Englisch in der Schweiz (pp. 27-34). Bern: Akademiscbe Kommission. 200li. On the irrelevance of prestige, stigma and identity in the development ofNew Zealand English phonology. New Zealand English foumal, 15, 42-46. 2001j. Contact and simplification: historical baggage, and directionality in linguistic change. Linguistic 1}'pology. 5(2), 371-374. 200lk. Glftk dialects: linguistic and social typology. In A. Ralli, B. Joseph, & M. Janse (Eds.), Proceedings of the First International Confomlce ofModem Greelc Dialects and Linguistic Theory (pp. 263-272). Patras University Press. 2001L Received Pronunciation: sociolinguistic aspects. Studia Anglica Pomaniensia, 36, 313. 2001m. Review of A Linguistic Anthropology of Pnms and Language Shift: Arvanitilca (Albanian) and Greek in Contact by Lukas D. Tsitsipis.Jntmrational/ournal ofApplied Linguistics, 11(1),114-117. 2001n. Japanese translation of Language contact and inherent variability: the absence af hyperromction in East Anglian present-tense verb forms (1996) [Gengko sesshoku to koyuu heni-sei: East Anglia no genzaikei doushi ni oite kajou shuusei wa naze mirarenai ka]. In 72nd Dialectological Circle ofJapan Conference Papers (pp. 8~8). 2001o. Reprint of The Awbau sociolinguistics ofGreek as a minority and majority langu~~ge. In A. Georgakopoulou & M. Spanaki (Eds.), A Reader in Gretlc Sociolinguistics (pp. 23-40). Bern: Peter Lang. 2002a. Sociolinguistic Variation and Change. Edinburgh University Press. 2002b (Ed.), with Chambers, J. K. & Schilling-Estes, N. Handbook ofLinguistic Variation and Change. Oxford/Cambridge MA: Blackwell. 2002c. Linguistic and social typology. In J. K. Chambers, N. Schilling-Estes, & P. 1hKigill (Eels.), Handbook ofLinguistic Variation and Change (pp. 707-728). Oxford: Blackwell.

Peter 'Ii'udgift's publications 337 2002d, with Hannah, J. lntmuJtional English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English (4th edition). London: Edward Arnold. 2002e (Ed.), with Watts, R. AltmuJtive Histories ofEnglish. London: Roudedge. 2002f. The history of the lesser-known varieties of English. In R. Watts & P. Trudgill (Eds.), Alternative Histories ofEnglish (pp. 29-44). London: Roudedge. 2002g. English as an endangemllanguage. In A. Jyu & M. Megan (Eds.), Reflecting Teaching: Reflection IUid InnoVtltion in Language Teaching and laming (pp. 11-20). Hong Kong University of Science and Technology Press. 2002h, with Nevalainen, T. & Wischer, L Dynamic have in North American and British Isles English. English Language and Linguistics. 6, 1-15. 2002i. Personal history: Peter 1hldgill. In E. K. Brown & V. Law (Eds.), Linguistics in Britain [Publications of the Philological Society 36] (pp. 286-296). Oxford: Blackwell. 2002j. Standard English. In H. Jaclcson (Ed.), Grammar and Vocabulary: A Resource Book for Students (pp. 171-180). London: Roudedge. 2003a. A Glossary of Sociolinguistics. Edinburgh University Pras. 2003b, with Maclagan, M. & Lewis, G. Linguistic archaeology: the Scottish input to New Zealand English phonology. Journal ofEnglish Linguistics, 31, 1-22. 2003c, with Schreier, D., Long, D., & Williams, }. P. On the reversibility of mergers: /w/,lv/ and evidence from lesser-known Englishes. Folia Linguistica llistoric4 2003d, with Gordon, E. English in New Zealand. In R. Hickey (Ed.), 17te Legacy of Colonial English. A Study in Transported Dialects. Cambridge University Press. 2003e, Linguistic changes in pan-world English. In C. Tschichold (Ed.), English Core Linguistics: Essays in honour of David Afterton. Bern: Peter Lang. 2003f. 17te Norfolk Dialect. Cromer, UK: Poppyland Press. Forthcoming a, with Gordon, E., Campbell, L., Hay, J., & Maclagan, M. The Origin and Evolution ofNew Zealand English. Cambridge University Press. Forthcoming b. Determinism in New-dialect Formation: The Inevitability of Colonial Englishes. Edinburgh University Press. Forthcoming c (Ed.), with Ammon, U., Dittmar, N., & Mattheier, K. Harrdbuch zur Sprachund Kommunikationswissenschaft: Soziolinguistilc. Mouton de Gruyter. Forthcoming d. Sociolinguistics: an overview. In U. Ammon et al. (Eds.), Handbuch zur Sprach- und Kommunilcationswisserlft: Soziolinguistilc. Mouton de Gruyter. Forthcoming e. Greecr and Cyprus. In U. Ammon et al. (Eds.), Hmulbuch zur Sprach- und Kommwilcationswissenschaft: Soziolinguistilc. Mouton de Gruyter. Forthcoming g. with Hernmdez-Campoy, J. M. Functional compensation and Southern Peninsular Spanish Is/loss. Folia Linguistica Historica. Forthcoming h. Linguistic and social typology. In B. Kortmann (Ed.), DUllea t;pology. Forthcoming i. The dialect typology of Modern Greek. In B. Kortmann (Ed.), Dialect 7;pology. Forthcomingj. The phonology of the dialect ofEast Anglia.In B. Kortmann (Ed.), Handbook of Varieties of English. Mouton de Gruyter. Forthcoming k. The morphology and syntax of the dialect of East Anglia. In B. Kortmann (Ed.), Handbook of Varieties of English. Mouton de Gruyter. Forthcoming 1, with Britain, D. Dialects in Contact (2nd edition). Oxford: Blackweft.

338 Peter 'Ihldgill's publications Forthcoming m, with Hernandez-Cam~ J. M. & Britain, D. The standard ideology and phonological analysis: non-rhotic £nstisbes and Murcian Spanish vowels. Forthcoming n. Glocalisation and the Ausbau sociolinguistics of modern Europe. Forthcoming o. Unguistic and social typology: the Austronesian migrations and phoneme inventories. Linguistic Typology.

Index

(th)-&onting 210, 211, 21~220 [h)-dropping 216, 217 [t]-glottalisation 210 3rd person singular 81, 83-85, 87-M

British English 90, 92, 94, 157, 160, 210,213,217,223,225

c Canada 98-111 Canadian Raising 107, 163, 167, 192, 199-200.205

A

AAVE 133, 164-166, 192, 193 acmmmodation 2, S, 39, 44. ~53, 55, 107, 116,223,224,227,228, 230 acts of identity 125, 301 actuation 3, 115, 116, 214 A&ican American 2, 39,51-55, 142-144,149,192 age 11, 13. 14, 69, ~8, 106, 122. 134, 135, 139, 180,181, 182, 184, 185,197,205,206,226,228, 234-235,270,296 A&ican American English 51-55, 83,90-91,164-166 American English 11, 40, 49, ss. 83, 90,91,107,142,217,247,253 Anglo-Romani 194 anti-language 124-125, 269, 276 ~ 98,99,100,102,105,110 Austria 173,180, 181 B

BobnAI 277,281, 282, 311, 313, 314, 316,3»-324

border changes 182, 188 borrowing 118-120, 176,210,214, 215,219,220 Brazil 110

c:asc:ade model 2, 9-21 Castilian Spanish ~26, 28-30, 32-34 Cutilianisation 24, 28. 29 chain shift 39, 156, 157, 229 China 110 clause 84, 246-250, 252-2st, 256-258, 260, 289 ~ 210,234 cognitive linguistics 179 colonial societies 158 conditional clauses 247 ~ts 3,7,21,75,83,85,89, 90, 94, 134, 156, 159, 161, 166, 167,193,210,212,245,260 contact 15, 16, 30, 34, 40, 55, 63, 81, 82,83, 106,107.122,123, 126, 131,132, 147,204,223, 224,239,240,306,312 mntact varieties 180, 181 mntact variables 189 dialect mntact 1, 3, 39, 47. 56, 6~ 70, 77. 97, 155,157, ISS. 159,160, 161, 164, 167, 193, 199,219,224,228,230 language contact 1, 91, 92, 93. 95,97,119,120,131,267 linguistic mntact 81,94 conectness 6, 287, 291

Croatia

110,173,178,181 crossover pattern 209 cultural beritaF 285 cultural identity 302, 303 cultural model 161 cultural nation 174, 188 Czechoslovakia 173, 174, 189 D

Danish 6, 92. 288-296, 311-313, 323 Demotild 264-266 developmental perspective 6, 288 dialect geography 97 dialect levelling 4, s. 158, 159, 166, 223-227,230,238-240,267,269 dialect/accent (D/A) immigrants 98 diffusion 2. 3, 5, 9, 10, 13-17, 19, 21, 23-25,30,32-35, 106, 107, 115-117, 119, 121, 123, 124, 127, 131,139, 147, 158,211, 214,219, 223,224,226-228,230,231,234, 235,237-240 ~OsQa 263,264,269 dbcourse 6,246,247,249,258,260, 270, 288, 303, 304 drift 156,157

E education 15, 16,23,26,55,87,93, 118, 180, 182, 186,187, 188,264, 265,268, 311 England 15,17, 82. 83, 88, 90, 91, 110,131, 132, 133, 147, 150, 158, 168,191,193,197,200,207,217, 226,227,228,231,232,234,235 English-only movement 111 ethnic accent 99 ethnic cleansing Ill ethnolects 106, 107 extended turn 249-251, 254, 257

F Farsi 10.11 First Nations 99

focussing 33,158 folk perceptions

288

free variation S, 75, 76 friction of distance 34 friendship 8, 9, 255,257,258, 271, 324

G

gender 4, 15, 60, 134, 135, 161, 164, 191,212,213,252-254,259, 270,296 grammatical gender 62-66, 281, 282,290,294, 313, 321 g~on 3,13,51,53,54,60,61, 63, 85, 98, 105-107, 111, 112, 136-139, 141, 143-146, 164, 194, 196,197,199-203,205,206,214, 234,265,285,308 geographical diffusion 5, 25, 33, 123,214,223,224,226,230,231, 239,240 ~y 110,111,120,128,174, 285 global changes 4, 166 glottal stop 213, 231 gradient principle 34 gravity model 2. 9, IS, 30 Greece 6, 263-271 Greenland 111

H

historical linguistics 209, 217, 220 holocaust 111 homevs. abroad rule 177, 178,187 Hungarian-Americans 176 Hunsarr 4,102,I03,110,173-183, 187-189 hypenxuTection 95,162,203

I identity 2. 3, 4, 23, 35, 54-56, 61, 118,124,125,126,149,159,161, 163,164,188,227,230,238,239,

Index 341 255,258,263,279,285, 299,301, 302,303,307,308

Ideologically-driven changes 4 ideology 5, 155, 161, 162, 163, 166, 167, 168,218,219 Immigrants 39, 44, 47, 48, 53, S1, 54,97-103,105,106,108-111, 158,164,181,228,294 immigration 2, 3, 39, 97, 98, 103, 107-112,163,296 indicator 224, 254 Individual internal variation 69-77 inbmnt variability 75, 76 innovation 63, 66, 115-117, 119, 120, 124, 148,215,219, 231, 304 institutionalised norms 287, 291 Integration pp 97, 112 intelligibility 289, 290 interaction potential index: 30, 32 interdialect 192 interlanguage 93, 97,106,110, 112 intonation 252-254, 260, 269 intrusive [r] 207, 210,216 inverse assimilation 97, 100, 105, 112 involvanent 251,258 Ireland 105,110 isogloss 11, 12, 76,200,206 ~tion 1,5,97,135,193,204-207, 267

115, 116, 124, 127, 133, 134, 155, 156,157,158,162,163,165,167, 168,191,207,209,211,230,255, 269,287,296 language acquisition 76 language choice 294, 296 language sap 97-99, 112 language isolation 1 languase maintenance 219, 300, 308 language plannins 7, 299,311, 312. 314 leamability 160 levelling 3-5,83, 92, 94, 158-161, 164, 166, 167, 196, 197, 223-240, 267,269 linpistic diversity 7, 24, 111, 117, 299,300,307,308 linking [r] 210 Hteracy 97,100-102,110,112,287, 293,294,296,314 Hteracypp 97, 100, 101, 112 loanwords 3 London 1, 9,15, 91, 92, 150,210, 212, 214,216, 219,227-229, 231-235,245

M

markedness 2, 64, 218 ~r

J joint remembering 250, 254 Jordan 3, 64, 66 K Katharewusa 264-266, 270 koux 40, 54. 266 koineisationlkoin&ation 54, 56, 64, 158,193,207 L Labov 1,2,9,11,15,40,41,42,44, 45,49,55,56,69,75,77,91,107,

4,30,33, 145,149,238

mental maps 4, 173, 182, 188 metalinguistic awareness 288, 293, 296 middle class 75, 211, 212, 232 migration 39,59,155,158,167 mobility 2, 30-34,82,84,85, 87, 88, 97,103,110,111,155,158,159, 167,224,225,230,231,239,240, 267,268 morphological change 3, 158, 184 morphological features 259 multicultural 98 multilingual 98, 294, 296 Murcian Spanish 24, 25, 28-30

N narrative 84, 250. 254, 255, 257, 258 NathanB 191 neighbourhood effect 34 Neosrammarian 21~212. 219 NetbedandS 26,110,111 networks 3, 82. 115, 116,117, 119, 121, 124-128. 148, 158-161, 163, 195, 204, 206, 224, 228, 230, 269, 270 new dialect formation 1, 3, 59, 60. 77,116,193 New Zaland 3, 69-72. 77, 78, 99, 100,105,167,193,207 non-standard 2, 24, 25, 30, 33, 35, 84,178,195-197,205,218,290 nonstandard 32,148,245,253,259, 291 norm 2. 4, 3, 16. 23, 55, 64, 75, 82, 93,98,11~112.144.145,

148-150,158-161,164,182, 204-207, 219, 224,226, 227, 238, 287.290. 291, 293,296. 315. 319 normativity in lmBW~Se 287 Northern Cities Shift 11-14,39, 107, 164, 167 No~ 6,7,9, 15,275,277,282, 285,311-314.319,320.322-324 N~ 6. 7. 10, 275-277, 279-281,311-313,315-324 Nynor.lk 277,281,311-323

0 optionality 313-315, 319 outlier .f, 191, 193

phonetic context 75 phonoloskal constraints 156 political border 182 political nation 174, 188 population 10. 11,13-15,34, 39, 55, 59, 60, 82. 92, 97, 98, 101, 109, 111, 117.131,140,142.173, 174. 180, 206, 224, 230,231, 235, 238 p~ 178,253 psycholinpistic constraints 161

Q quesao~

17,178,182,233

R

reallocation 158, 199. 269 reponal variation 266-268, 292 relic forms 195

Rouuuna

173,177-180,182-189

rural dialects 232. 240, 277, 321 rural varieties 223, 268

s saHence 4,149,162,218 seem code 275 seem Jansua1e 6. 285 SEI> 228,233-235,240 semantic structures

179

Serbia 173,178,182 &eK

39,69,73,84,85,87,88,106, 181,227,232,259

shibboleth 106

simplification 3, 4, ~ 158-161, 224,231,269,316

p

Slowlcia 173,174. 178, 180, 181,189 Slove!Ua 173,180,181,183 social class 4,33, 73.160.161.191.

PaJatine 60, 61 paralleldevelopment 81,131, 147 pastBE 131,133,135,137,139,145,

social meanins 162, 246, 260 social psydtolosical 55, 223, 227,

148,150,196,197,205 192,197,288 Peninsular Spanish 25, 29, 35 performance 33, 246, 247, 260, 305

social stratification 1, 97 social typoiOSY 97,107 sociolinguistic awareness 288

peergroup

232,259

230

Index 343 sociolinpistics 7, 9, 30, 56, 97, 111,

112,116,155,188,191,209,296 South Afiica 110 Southemshift 44-51, 157, 164, 167 spatial dift'usjon 2 speaker-innovation 214 speech community 5, 15, 24, 33, 35, 49,158, 159, 191. 193,196,202, 204.206, '1JJ7. 215,230 spelling 23, 26, 282. 287. 293. 294, 313,315,317,319 spracl 2,4, 9,10, 15,17, 19-21,39, 40, 47, 94, 103, 117, 121, 123, 147,148,158,167,210,214-217, 220,223-225,228,230,231, 233-238,240,275-277,280 stable variation 69, 77 ~ 1,2,5,7,11,14,23-30, 32-34,63,76,85, 87, 89, 93, 99, 106, 117, 128, 145, 148, 168, 177, 181,197,218,219,253,267,268, 277,281,282,287,290,291,304, 311-313,315-320,322.323 standardisation 1, 5, 7, 23,26-31, 33-35,159,270,277 story opener 254, 258 style shifting 75, 78, 162 subjec!M reaction tests 99, 106, 287 suf&xation 83-85,87,89,94,95, 177,183 .surwy 75,100, 149, 156,176, 180, 191,207,233,315,323 Switzerland 3, 117, 118, 120, 128 S)'DChronic variation 209, 263, 268 syntactic variation 5, 6, 245, 246, 253,254,258-260

u UlcraiDe 173,178, 180, 188, 189 United States 2, 17, 20, 55, 95, 99, 100, 111, 112, 131. 133, 150, 157, 164,165,167,173,278 urbandialec:ts 60,63,64,107,217, 277,287 urban varieties 236

v vemac:ular 11, 24, 26, 28, 75, 89, 104, 105, 127, 131, 133, 144, 147, 164, 213, 214, 216, 218, 299, 303-308

w wordlist 211,213 working class 197, 211, 212,232, 277,280

y

T ~

106,128, 178, 189,217,251, 255, 258, 276 '1iistan cia Cunha 3, 81, 82, 84, 90, 91,94,95,111,131 'Iiudgill 1-3, 5-10, 14, 15, 21, 24, 25, 34, 35, 39, 40, 44, 53, 55, 56, 60, 65, 66, 67, 69, 70, 71, 72, 75-77, 81, 83,90-92.97,98, 108, 116, 127, 128, 131, 132, 147, 149, 155, 157, 158, 159, 160, 188, 192, 193, 205, 207, 210,223, 224, 225, 227, 228, 232, 235, 240. 245, 246, 259, 260, 263, 264, 265, 266, 268, 269,271,277,287,296,299, 301, 304,307,308,313 topic

228,270,280 135

time depth

YUsosbnna

111,173,177,178,180, 181,183-189

In tbe series IMPACT: STIJDIES IN LANGUAGE AND SOCIETY the following titles have been pubUsbed tbus far or are scheduled for pubUcadon: 1.

POTz, Manin (ed.): Language Clwices. ConditioiU, constraints, and consequences.

1997. 2. KIBBEE, Douglas A. (ed.): Language Legislation and Linguistic Righls. Selected Proceedings of the Language Legislation and linguistic Righls Conference, the University of Illinois at Urbana-Chmnpaign, March, 1996. 1998. 3. LINELL, Per: Approaching Dialogue. Tallc, interaction and contuts in dialogical perspectives. 1998. 4. OWENS, Jonathan: Neighborhood and Ancestry. Variation in the s/}OUn Arabic of Maiduguri, Nigeria. 1998. S. ANDREWS, David R.: Sociocullllral Perspectives on LangMage Change in Diospora. Soviet immigrants in the United States. 1999. 6. RICENTO,Thomas (ed.): Ideology, Politics and Language Policies. FociiS on English. 2000. 7. McCAFFERTY, Kevin: Ethnicity and Language Change. English in (l..ondon)Derry, Northern Ireland. 2001. 8. ARMSTRONG, Nigel: Social and Stylistic Variation in Spoken French. A comparative approach. 2001. 9. HELLINGER, Marlis and Hadumod BUBMANN (eels.): Gender Across Languages. The linguistic representation of women and men: Volume I. 2001. 10. HELLINGER, Marlis and Hadumod BUBMANN (eels.): Gender Across Languages. The linguistic representation of women and men. Volume 2. 2002. 11. HELLINGER, Marlis and Hadumod BUBMANN (eels.): Gender Across Languages. The linguistic representation of women and men. Vobune 3. 2003. 12. OKITA, Tosbie: lnvisibk Work. Bilingualism, langut~ge choice and chiltlrearing in inte17'1UUTiedfamilies. 2002. 13. OAKES, Leigh: Language and National Identity. Comparing France and Sweden. 2001. 14. WEBB, Vic: Language in SoMth Africa. The role of language in national trans.forntll· tion, recoiUtruction and development. 2002. IS. BOXER, Diana: Applying SociolingMistics. Domains and face-ta-face interaction. 2002. 16. BRITAIN, David and Jenny CHBSHIRE (eels.): Social Dialectology .In honour ofPeter Trudgill. 2003. 17. 1RINCH, Shonna L.: Latinas' Narratives of Domestic AbiiSe. Discrepant versions of violence. N.Y .P. 18. DEUMERT, Ana and Wim VANDENBUSSCHE (eds.): Germanic Stantltudizations. Past to Present. N .Y .P.