Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts

Monday, March 9, 2015

Language, linguistics, logophilia

Quotes out of context;  click for the real meal.


I studied Old Norse at Berkeley; accordingly, I can more or less read modern Icelandic.  Norwegian is a different kettle of kippers, however.  Even so, though I am not expert here, it does appear to my unpracticed ear that Mr Dylan (or his Norwegian lyricist) has taken certain liberties with the text.

The ISIL flag  functions internationally rather  like MacDonald’s Golden Arches -- an instantly recognizable visual brand.

Your guarantee of quality
It is difficult to find any passus  in which round  is used in dispraise.

Familiar examples are bipartite constructions like “either … or…”  (German “entweder … oder”,  and (somewhat less structured) French “ou bien … ou bien”):  whenever you meet the word either in a sentence, you know that or cannot be far behind -- or rather, actually, in this case, it can be quite far behind;  but come it must.  Cf. and contrast French celui:   it must be followed by qui, but in this case, followed immediately.
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/2015/03/farflung-interdependencies.html

This antinomy of language-per-se versus languages, has become acute since Chomsky, who has little interest in the endless gabble of actual tongues.  If this seems an extreme position, it is nonetheless exactly parallel to that of physicists, who seek general physical laws, rather than endless descriptions of individual objects falling or rolling or spinning or colliding or what have you.

Compare that elegant phrase, which slips so smoothly from the pen of Quine:  “substitutable salvâ veritate”.   I have here further spiffed up the expression, by giving the â its neat little ablative hat.)
 
The fault by no means lies in any pointless, Basque-like complexity of the lending languages:  in Latin and in French, the stress-patterns are as easy as can be.  Yet somehow English managed to ingest these borrowings sideways, or wrong-way-round …

Arabic does notoriously avail itself of this morphosemantic flourish;  in classical Arabic, it's called jinaas, or tajniis.

ennoösis

The ‘attribute’ of paternity  fits so comfortably into our language (there is even a synonymous saxonism, fatherhood), that the plain man is satisfied.  But hold on: both sired a son.  So they share something more than mere paternity (once again reifying), call it virpaternity.  Those who are happy of two sons, share duovirpaternity. Or consider the sire of Romulus and Remus, and that of Tweedledum and his twin: these share homoduovirpaternity.

 “I’d say ‘Res ipsa loquitur’, if I thought you knew what it meant.”

Every carpet has an underside.  We may even concede (perhaps over-generously) that both sides are interderivable:  given the one, you can work out the other.  Now, you and I prefer the upper side, where green birds are depicted in an azure sky, and the prince urges his huntsmen  forward in the chase.  Equally -- and it is their right, -- the proctoscopic philosophers prefer to ogle the underside, an unintuitive tangle of knots and loose ends. 

Fuite en avant has long been one of my favorite phrases, in large part because of its complex meaning, and its lack of an equivalent in English.  But later a new term spread generally throughout our American tongue, one which, while not an exact equivalent, still covers important shared territory:  doubling-down.

On Fox, an airhead prattles for a bit; then the anchor, equally clueless, raises no questions and elicits no details, but simply dumps on a bit of his own emotion.   They seem to be descended, not from the line of Murrow, but from game-show hosts:  dolts, and happy to be so.

Here  phlogiston plays ever and again the useful role of whipping-boy.  (Indeed, given the continued prominence of this ethereal etwas in philosophical debate, it must count as one of the most fruitful scientific hypotheses ever.  If it didn’t not-exist, someone would have to uninvent it.)  

We have seen how the pejoration of savant came about -- a trajectory peculiar to this term.  But what of sophist, and its (commoner and) equally pejorative derivatum, sophistry?

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Thematic index: language-related posts


By now there are quite a number of language-related essays on this site.
Here they are by category.

Lore for word-lovers:

The analysis of meaning:
How to pronounce things:

Zoöglossia:  Hamster addressing a mass audience in Union Square, in hamster language

Shapes of words:
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/search/label/morphology

Word origins:

Dictionaries:

Rhetoric:

Translating from one language to another:

Influence of one language upon another

The scientific study of language:
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/search/label/linguistics

The world's greatest linguist ever:  Dr. John Dolittle
Acronyms:
Language acquisition:

French:

German:

Latin:

Arabic:
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/search/label/Arabic


And for a book-length treatment of semantic issues, try this:

Monday, September 23, 2013

Language- (and languages-)related posts


By now there are quite a number of language-related essays on this site.
Here they are by category.

Lore for word-lovers:

The analysis of meaning:


Names:

How to pronounce things:

Zoöglossia:  Hamster addressing a mass audience in Union Square, in hamster language


Word origins:

Dictionaries:

Rhetoric:

Translating from one language to another:

Influence of one language upon another

The scientific study of language:
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/search/label/linguistics

The world's greatest linguist ever:  Dr. John Dolittle

Acronyms:

Language acquisition:

French:

German:

Latin:

Arabic:
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/search/label/Arabic


And for a book-length treatment of semantic issues, try this:

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Adventures in Language Acquisition -- this time, the other way around


Once again, little Marya hailed me from the far side of the lawn.

My mommy has a baby belly,” she announced, reporting a fact-in-the-world that has become more brilliantly evident with each passing month.

“!”
 Amazing I have never heard that phrase before -- it is so perfect.  “Ding!” went the word-register   as my vocabulary increased by one.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Posts related to language


Lore for word-lovers:

The analysis of meaning:

How to pronounce things:

Word origins:

Dictionaries:

Rhetoric:

Translating from one language to another:

The scientific study of language:

Friday, December 17, 2010

Riemann, Chomsky, Fido



‘Tis of great use to the sailor  to know the length of his line, though he cannot with it fathom all the depths of the ocean.  (Locke, Essay, I.i.6)

It was with the warmest empathy that we read the other day  of the collie with a 200-item Wort- und Spielzeug-schatz -- treasury of words and playthings.
[Note:  This essay was originally written in response to the report of a German dog-prodigy, in 2007.  For the latest such story, see http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/18/science/18dog.html?hpw ]

As a semanticist, he is the perfect embodiment of what is traditionally known as the Fido-‘Fido’ theory:  this word refers to this object, and the way it gets its reference is – Fido grabs it in his mouth!  A saving detail, somewhat distinguishing him from the complexity of a cash register – or rather (since a cash register, in addition to popping up a digit when you press a key, can also calculate) from a mere inert pegboard with 200 labeled pictures – was his action when presented with an unfamiliar word: he fetched an unfamiliar toy!  Thus, to describe him, we need 201 lines of (utterly non-recursive) code:  if, then, else. (Game, set, match.)


 [For an alternate view of Fido and the Essence of Language, Cf.  Dr. Max Müller’s Bau-Wau Theorie, by Dr. Christoph Gottlieb Voigtmann (Leipzig, 1865).]

            Fido can fetch, but he doesn’t exfoliate.  The structure of his language is the structure of his toybox – a heap of unrelated items. If he could also speak – play with the words as he plays with the toys – magic might happen.  We gaze back with saddened understanding into the empty depths of his eager brown eyes.

(Per Wittgenstein, though, if he could, we’d be disappointed:  “Wenn der Löwe sprechen könnte, wir könnten ihn nicht verstehen.”)

            Empathetic, since we are ourselves in much the same predicament, faced with any subject for which we lack an inborn knack. In language we are all born-geniuses; in mathematics (most of us), born-morons. How poignant to hear the French, who tout their language as logic itself, stumble through the simple act of counting:
“….fifty, sixty…uhh..sixty-ten (soixante-dix)…mmm….four-twenties (quatre-vingts)….four-twenty-ten (quatre-vingt-dix -- I kid you not; and as to the spelling, sic)…”
or say they’ll meet you “today in eight” (aujourd’hui en huit; meaning: seven days from today).

            When  young, the mind at its most resilient, I put my shoulder to the boulder, majoring in math.  Over time  I have found it a labor of Sisyphus.  When I’m not actively pushing it, it rolls back downhill.  And even when giving it my all, I can only fetch things as they are pointed out.  I have never learned to chatter in math.

            By contrast, in learning new words, new languages, new styles, I really am standing on the shoulders of giants, feet firmly rooted in the innate.  No need to constantly “keep up” one’s Spanish.  It’s there.  When an author stretches your syntax – Nabokov or Proust – it gets digested, metabolized, incorporated into the mental flesh.

            At one level, mathematics is a language; and for a time, may give us the feeling of a similar mastery.  The notation is so powerful, it lets us deal with complex sentences with deceptive ease.  But I have found that the various gimmicks and shortcuts become a substitute for thought: I might scramble up to the next terrace, but then I had to pull the ladder up behind me, because the strength of understanding is only as long as that ladder.
            Thus: You learn, with understanding, why a certain integrand can be transformed into another, that lends itself more readily to integration by known rules.  But this understanding then becomes encapsulated, a black box.   Like the law of cosines or any other once-derived, once-felt formula, it becomes formulaic.  Whereas:  from a structure like “Bobby was scolded by his teacher” we get to “the man who is widely believed to have been credited with this discovery” intuitively, without cutting the ties.

            There are other things we’re really really good at, like real-time visual analysis.  The more you learn about what is involved, the more miraculous it seems.  When you realize the fragmented, ambiguous nature of the input, and the coordination required on our part, it is amazing that we can thread our way across a room without tripping over some tensor.

 ***
            One night, math studies years behind me, in the dark without the crutch of a textbook or chalkboard in front of my nose, I tried to recall what I once knew, and for the most part could not.  Floating facts and stray derivations, like isolated lines of remembered verse.  Then with the resolute despair of Descartes at his stove, I tried to discover: all right, what do I know, that isn’t mere memorization?
            It wasn’t much.  I could visualize, intuit, that 2 x 3 = 6, by picturing the boxcar pattern on a die.  This even yielded the commutative truth: 6 = 3 x 2 (just tilt your head to the side).  Fifteen was harder, but was accessible via a triplet of quincunxes, each quincunx mentally held in place with the fingers of one hand.  And already the commutation required a different pattern, one big quincunx, each spot a little triangle.
            Invention gave out by twenty-one.  One can picture a triad of “dotted boxcars”, but what is 7 + 7 + 7 (let alone 3 + 3 + 3 + 3 + 3 + 3 + 3)?  One can dully, dutifully count (which is merely mechanical, bearing no relation to the gut grokking of a quincunx as five), or recall “3 x 7 = 21” from the times-table – a mere boilerplate formula like “a stitch in time saves nine”.
            So, I got as far as boxcars, but shall never catch up to the taxicab, where Ramanujan spotted “1729” as the face of an old friend.

            Shapes in space are also hard.   (Again Locke, Essay II xix.13:  "In a man who speaks of a chiliadron, or a body of a thousand sides, the idea of the figure may be very confused, though that of the number may be very distinct.")
Once, dipping into a bit of knot theory, and finding that I soon had to haul up the ladder to proceed, I went back to square one, and tried to understand a simple knot in the same direct way that we understand a softball or a football.  I made a wire model of a trefoil, turned it every whichway, closed my eyes and followed it with my fingers.  Falling asleep, I would imagine myself (like Mr. Tompkins) on a roller-coaster ride  shaped just like that, sensing when another part of the track would pass above or below, feeling the centrifugal tug.  I can barely do it, strain though I may  -- I throw on the light in a panic and stare at the wire.

            Again Locke (Essay II.x.4):
The memory is very weak:  ideas in the mind quickly fade, and often vanish quite out of the understanding, leaving no more footsteps, or remaining characters of themselves, than shadows do  flying over fields of corn…

            Years of effort have sadly ratified the epigram of Novalis: "Zur Mathematik gelangt Man nur durch eine Theophanie."
            De profundis, ideo, clamo: Riemann – eleison!  Poincaré – eleison!
            Solâ gratiâ.