Andrew
Carnie’s book on syntax begins in a highly accessible manner, but quickly ramps
up its technical approach regarding the formation of sentences. Carnie begins
with basic premises such as a definition of syntax as a cognitive science,
grammatical rules, and the scientific method. In the chapters that follow, he delves
into the various properties of these grammatical rules by delineating the
specific, or rather multifaceted, usage of objects such as adjectives, nouns,
and adverbs in the English language. At the heart of Carnie’s discussion of
human language, which he deems “infinite” and “productive”, is the underlying
assumption that the acquisition of language rules is largely innate. I find
this topic incredibly interesting as it addresses many of the questions that
kept coming to my mind during last week’s readings by Kenstowicz and
Gussenhoven.
Andrew
Carnie introduces the assumption that when parents attempt to “instruct” their
children in language, they usually fail. He goes on to say that children still
acquire language in the face of a “complete lack of instruction”. I find this
to be a bold claim that warrants a better definition of what is meant by “instruction”.
Perhaps, parents find no success when attempting to correct their children’s
grammar, but it is likely that parents provide children with words to which
they can map their innate understanding of language. Is this not a form of “instruction”?
Rather, I am more concerned with what exactly a “complete lack of instruction”
looks like in the context of language acquisition. I am curious as to the sort of
language that two children, raised in isolation with no prior language exposure,
would develop. Would such a language be more representative of the “universal
language” that Carnie describes?
Carnie also
briefly describes the difference between Language, which is the ability to
speak, and language, a particular instance of the ability to speak such as
English or French. I am curious about the case in which a person is able to
understand a specific language, but is unable to respond in said language. This
example hits close to home as I often find that I can understand when my mother
occasionally speaks to me in Tagolog, but I can only respond to her in English.
What exactly is going on, from a physiological standpoint, which prevents
people from speaking a certain language even when they have arrived at a point
where they can “understand” it? More importantly, what separates an innate
understanding of a “universal language” from an understanding of all existing
languages?
I am also really interested and baffled by experiences like the one you describe, where you occasionally understand Tagalog but are unable to produce it. I have by now heard of so many people relating this experience to me that I've ceased to be skeptical of it.
ReplyDeleteI think that a complete lack of instruction would only be isolation. (I wonder if we name things and create a rudimentary language if we never meet another human in our lives. What if three humans grow up in isolation -- would they create a language? How would that language look like?) It does seem to me that any other interaction with humans and exposure to language is instruction, however informal. And it's interesting to me that that's all we need to learn a language.