'Futureless' languages?

[If you've come to this post because you're wondering if a particular language is 'futureless' or not, skip down right to the bottom for a summary of the various points I make in this fairly lengthy post.]

This post follows on from my previous one about the work of Keith Chen, a behavioural economist at Yale. To recap, Chen's central hypothesis is that the language you speak may affect your savings behaviour, depending on how your language grammatically encodes statements about the future. My point in my first post was that he was drawing on research that suggests a link between language and thought, the hypothesis being that speakers of a certain language must pay attention to particular features of the world around them on a habitual basis because the language they speak makes it obligatory for them to mention such features.

My concerns about his work however, start when I look at Chen's application of these ideas to the tense systems of the languages in his study, and how these languages have been analysed for tense.

'Futureless' languages?

The term 'futureless' languages comes up in Chen's work (although he actually rejects it in favour of a different term) and deserves some clarification. Contrary to what the TEDx talk description says of 'languages without a concept for the future', in Chen's work, he cites Östen Dahl's definition of 'futureless languages":

Dahl defines “futureless” languages as those which do not require “the obligatory use [of grammaticalized future-time reference] in (main clause) prediction-based contexts”. In this framework, a prediction is a statement about the future that has no intentional component. (footnote 3, p. 1)

[Click for a copy of: Dahl, Öster. 2000. Tense and aspect in the languages of Europe.]

I'll explain why Chen needs to add the part about 'no intentional component' a bit later on. What is important to note here is that the term 'futureless' language does not refer to 'a language without a concept for the future', but rather to a language that does not obligatorily force its speakers to use some sort of grammatical marking e.g. a future tense inflection on a verb, when describing an event situated in the future. For this reason, Chen actually uses the more neutral term 'weak future-time reference (FTR) language' instead.

Mandarin Chinese, the main inspiration behind Chen's work, is a prime example of a 'futureless' language in this discussion, because it does not typically oblige its speakers to mark for futurity (most obviously because verbs are not obligatorily marked for future tense). However, this is not the same as saying that Mandarin does not have a concept of the future, or that it prevents its speakers from talking about events in the future. Mandarin speakers know that they can always use adverbs of time to specify if an event is going to take place in the future, e.g. 明天 míngtiān 'tomorrow'. It is simply not obligatory that speakers use such adverbs in order to construct grammatical sentences in Mandarin.

But the world isn't simply made up of 'futureless' and 'futured' languages, with nothing in between. And this analysis of Mandarin may not be entirely correct either, as we shall see later. If we look at the chapter on 'Future Tense' on the World Atlas of Language Structures Atlas, written by Viveka Velupillai and Östen Dahl himself, we find this observation:

"It is relatively rare for a language to totally lack any grammatical means for marking the future. Most languages have at least one or more weakly grammaticalized devices for doing so."

In fact, rather than thinking of two discrete categories, it might help (at this stage at least) to think of it more as a cline between a strong tendency to mark for 'futurity' and a weak tendency. In a study like Chen's, how does one draw the line between what is a 'futureless' and 'futured' language, which you may agree is a fairly subjective decision to make?


A European framework for a global study

Chen's solution to this question is to rely on a framework set out by the European Science Foundation’s Typology of Languages in Europe (EUROTYP) project which has criteria to determine what is a 'strong' future-time reference (FTR) language and what is a 'weak' FTR language. The guidelines state that the data collected for the project came from primary texts and responses to questionnaires developed by Dahl (see here for details), though I do not know how percentage of the data was textual and what was elicited through the questionnaire. Descriptive linguists will also be quick to point out the problems of relying too much on data collected using a questionnaire, since these often do not reflect actual language use.

Of greater concern is the inherently Eurocentric basis for comparing languages of the world in Chen's study. Chen states that, "to [his] knowledge, the EUROTYP project is the most extensive typological research program to study the cross-linguistic grammaticalization of FTR" (p. 9), but it does not change the fact that all the languages looked at are European. The survey itself cannot give a good idea of the kinds of grammatical categories one finds in languages all over the world. For instance, Kayardild, an indigenous language of Australia, can mark 'tense' on nouns - this may seem like a rare and extreme example, but it demonstrates that a set of criteria developed for only European languages will necessarily omit categories that may be found in other languages of the world.

To use an analogy from an article about Joe Heinreich's work on human behaviour by only looking at Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic (WEIRD) people: it is like studying penguins while believing that one is learning insights applicable to all birds.


Wherefore the weather forecast?

This brings me to the analysis of English as a 'strong' FTR language. A number of people have raised similar examples to the one I'm about to use here to suggest that English is not a 'strong' FTR language:

(1) I am going to the shops now. (I'm on my way there as I say this.)
(2) I am going to the shops tomorrow. (I intend to go tomorrow.)

The main observation here is that in both sentences, the speaker is using a form that is described in English grammar as the 'present continuous' tense. However, while (1) refers to an event taking place at the time the speaker is uttering the sentence, i.e. 'the present' for the speaker; (2) refers to an event that might take place in the future.

[Note: Both (1) and (2) are perfectly grammatical and acceptable to native English speakers. One should not start thinking that (2) is wrong because it uses the 'present tense' to refer to the future! Think about the sentence I go to the shops every Friday. - you are using what is called the 'simple present' tense in English to describe an activity that you habitually do, not something that is happening at the very moment you utter the sentence.]

In both sentences, I could omit now and tomorrow and still have a grammatical sentence referring to an event in either the present or in the future. This shows English can actually be similar to Mandarin in not grammatically distinguishing between the present and the future on the verb, but through the use of an adverb of time.

So how does Chen get around this problem? He draws on an analysis by Bridget Copley, published in her 2009 book.

"Copley demonstrates that in English, “futurates” (sentences about future events with no FTR) can only be used to convey information about planned / scheduled / habitual events, or events which arise from law-like properties of the world." (footnote 9, p 4)

Using this argument, he then omits examples like the one I gave in (2), which describes a planned event. This is the main reason that has led Chen's study to focus on the language used in weather forecasts, since they do not have an intentional component to them. His own corpus study involved getting students to scour the internet for examples of weather forecasts in various languages and coding the verbs for FTR making.

This is one of my biggest problems with the research. The reason given for omitting the kinds of sentences that Copley lists is just not good enough. How can you just omit such a large chunk of data showcasing the way English speakers use English? What it looks like here is Chen trying to make English fit into the 'right' category so that it can then match his hypothesis / results.

On top of that, I've seen comments about how weather reports are not examples of typical or 'natural' speech, or how they may not even require the use of verbs, e.g. 'Tomorrow. Cloudy. Maximum temperature, 25 degrees." Chen notes that his study was confined to only languages that are widespread on the internet, but there is an underlying assumption that the 'weather report' as a genre exists for all language communities in his study. What about places that don't have a dependable meteorological service to announce the weather? Maybe a language might have a difference when talking about the weather that's likely later in the day and the weather that's likely in a few days' time?

Finally, even if Chen could convince me that weather reports are a reliable source of data for this cross-linguistic study, there is still one fundamental problem. If we consider the data that he has already collected (see Appendix B of his working paper), we find a set of 'verb ratios', referring to the percentage of verbs in a weather forecast about future weather which are grammatically marked as  future-referring. Some of these ratios are not 100% - this means that not all the verbs about future weather are grammatically marked as future-referring. Consequently, what we are looking at isn't obligatory future marking, but rather a tendency to do grammatical future marking. (Interestingly, Hungarian only has a 25% verb ratio, but it is still coded as being a strong FTR language.)

This goes against the basis for the hypothesis that an obligatory aspect of a language will make its speakers attend to it habitually every time they speak. Current research looking at the potential effects of language on thought is still in its nascent stage and it has necessarily been limited to testing hypotheses about obligatory features of a language. Once we start including a more general tendency to use a particular feature, the argument that it is the linguistic feature shaping how the speaker thinks becomes far less tenable: can we even tell if such a tendency is the result of the structure of a language affecting ways of thinking, or if it is something like a cultural norm that results in this particular use of language?


And if you're still in the mood...

As a final point, I should also point out that linguists rarely talk about 'tense' by itself, but 'tense, aspect and modality / mood' (TAM).  This is because languages rarely have markers just for 'tense', without conveying information about the other two. Simply put, 'tense' refers to the location of an event in time, 'aspect' refers to how the event relates to the flow of time, and 'modality' / 'mood' to the attitude of a speaker towards an event. (Click here for more info on the WALS site.)

For instance, the use of 'will' in English statements like 'It will rain' does not just convey information about when the event will take place (tense), but also the speaker's level of certainty that it will take place (modality/mood). Some Mandarin speakers might criticise Chen's study by saying that Mandarin too can convey future meaning on the verb, using the auxiliary verb 会 huì, which marks both futurity and certainty (much like English 'will') and is necessarily used when one wishes to convey both futurity and certainty.

In general, describing the TAM system of any language is very tricky. Two analyses of the same language by two different linguists may look very different, depending on such factors as the linguist's native language(s); the linguist's own theoretical orientation; the methodology used to collect the data; and the linguistic intuitions of the language consultant providing the data. At the cross-linguistic level, it is also very difficult to compare the TAM systems of different languages - it is not as simple as translating a sentence from one language to another and looking for a one-to-one correspondence. For instance, consider:

(3) Je suis à Lyon. 'I am in Lyon.' (I'm in Lyon now!)
(4) Je suis à Lyon pour 7 jours. 'I am in Lyon for 7 days.' (I intend to stay in Lyon for 7 seven days.)
(5) Je suis à Lyon depuis 7 jours. 'I have been in Lyon for 7 days.'

In French, all three sentences use the same present tense form suis (from the verb être 'to be'), while in English we see the present tense form am (from the verb to be) in only (3) and (4), not (5). Can we then say that the 'present tense' in French is the same as the 'present tense' in English?


As I mentioned in my last post, Chen's study is informed by more recent work on the relationship language and thought. However, there is one fundamental flaw in the application of this hypothesis to the data - namely, it starts to look at tendencies within a language rather than obligatoriness. The nature of the data collected in his study is also problematic, as is the reliance on what is a rather subjective way to code languages for tense. Admittedly, this lack of agreement when describing a language's TAM system and when comparing the TAM systems of different languages is something for linguists to work out, assuming consensus can ever be reached.

Given all that I've written, I actually do wonder what correlations Chen has found, since he seems to be convinced of many of the correlations he's found. I'd actually like to see more work on the potential impacts of one's language on behaviour, though perhaps not at the scale Chen has worked at, which is something I might write about soon. I might also spend one more post discussing some of the issues I have with the survey / census data Chen has used for his study.


[ADDENDUM (12/03/2013): If you've come here looking to see if a particular language is 'futureless' or not, there is no easy answer to this. Languages are not either 'futureless' or 'futured', and where you draw this subjective line depends on the criteria you choose. As in Chen's study, such criteria may also lead you to allow or ignore particular types of sentences from the language you are considering. Finally, you also need to consider the analysis of the language you are using, since grammatical analyses of languages can and do differ from scholar to scholar.]

Language and savings correlation?

There's been quite a bit of internet buzz this past week about the work of Keith Chen, a behavioural economist at Yale. You can see his TEDx talk here: Could language affect your way to save money? as well as an attention-grabbing and rather misleading BBC article about his work: Why speaking English can make you poor when you retire. Chen's central hypothesis is that the language you speak may affect your savings behaviour, depending on how your language grammatically encodes statements about the future.

(If you're also interested, Chen's working paper can be downloaded here. The Language Log blog actually discussed his work a year ago in two posts: Keith Chen, Whorfian economist, where Geoff Pullum critically examines the linguistics behind the proposal; and Cultural diffusion and the Whorfian hypothesis, where Mark Liberman questions the interpretation of the statistics. Chen was also invited to write a response to those raised concerns, which can be read here: Whorfian economics.)

First of all, I should state that even though I still have a lot of doubts regarding this study, I absolutely love the cross-disciplinary nature of the work. This is the sort of work that needs to be actively encouraged. It doesn't matter if Chen himself is not a linguist - inter-disciplinary work will often lead one into territory that one is unfamiliar with, and it doesn't help if the other side is aggressively marking their territory. He has clearly done a lot of research, and is not basing his claims simply on personal observations and anecdotes. All the media attention should also not detract from the fact that Chen has put in a lot of thought and effort into the study. And given that much of academia these days is being starved of funding, a little media attention really shouldn't hurt.

With regards to this study, there are three broad areas that I think would be fruitful topics of discussion: (1) the link between language and thought; (2) the idea of 'futureless' languages; (3) the data that was used in this study and the problem of a 'monolingual' mindset in linguistics. In this post, I'd just like to start off with the first topic.

Language and thought

A very common assumption that I've come across is that if Language X has a word for a particular concept (usually one's own language), but Language Y doesn't have a word for it, then that concept must not exist in Language Y. One argument against this is that it doesn't matter if there's no single word translation if a full sentence can capture the same meaning. Others may argue that it's just not the translation in Language Y just doesn't have the exact same meaning as in Language X. Some people may then put this difference down not to language, but to culture. This may then lead them to try and tease language from culture, while others argue that it can't be done. What we have then, is a hypothesis that cannot be proven or falsified either way.

Thankfully, this assumption is not the premise for Chen's research. Despite the unfortunate wording on the TEDx talk page, he is not making the point that just because a language doesn't have future tense marking, its speakers don't have a concept of the future. Rather, he is tapping into a growing body of work that suggests that the language you speak subtly influences what you pay attention to in the world. Much of this work is built around Roman Jakobson's observation that “Languages differ essentially in what they must convey and not in what they may convey”, a quote that Chen cites in his research.

The point here is not about whether Language X has a word or a tense that Language Y has, but whether Language X obliges speakers of that language to talk about something in a way that Language Y does not. One widely cited example is that of Guugu Yimithirr, a language spoken in Australia, whose speakers are forced to use cardinal points to describe the location of a person or thing in relation to another one, given the lack of what we would consider to be terms like 'left' and 'right' in English, i.e. speakers have to say something like 'He is sitting to my north'. It has been found that speakers of this language are much more aware of their cardinal orientation than speakers of languages that aren't forced to habitually make reference to cardinal points. (This is grossly simplified, but you can read more about this here and in Levinson's 1997 paper). The point here is not that English lacks the resources to say 'He is sitting to my north'. It may sound odd, but it is perfectly possible. Rather, the point is that speakers of English are not obliged to habitually note their cardinal orientation, while speakers of Guugu Yimithirr are.

In his TEDx talk, Chen highlights the problem of translating 'uncle' into Mandarin Chinese, since you are forced to specify whether the person is your father's sibling or your mother's, and whether they are older or younger than your father or mother. In English, you could certainly use the phrase 'maternal uncle who is older than my mother' but you are not forced to. Therefore, one might argue that a speaker of Mandarin has to be constantly aware of such relationships much more than an English speaker.

Here, Chen's example is not the best. I come from a Chinese family myself, and many of these relationships and the terms to address various extended family members were 'calculated' by my parents when I was pretty young. From then on, the name got associated with that person, and I'm not actually forced to habitually make these calculations anymore. A better example would have looked at information that a language compels its speakers to specify, suggesting that they have to habitually pay attention to such information, e.g. how Russian obligatorily forces speakers to say whether they walked or travelled by vehicle; or how Sherpa obligatorily forces speakers to say whether an action was done on purpose or not.

In general, I would say that Chen's work is informed by current linguistic research into the relationship between language and thought. This can be seen in his working paper:

[...] English forces its speakers to habitually divide time between the present and future in a way that Mandarin (which has no tenses) does not. Of course, this does not mean that Mandarin speakers are unable (or even less able) to understand the difference between the present and future, only that they are not required to attend to it every time they speak. This difference, in the obligatory marking of future events is a central characteristic of the weak vs strong FTR classification (Thieroff 2000), and is the difference between languages I exploit in my study of savings behaviors.

Bear in mind that within linguistics, the debate about the relationship between language and thought is by no means over. The Economist website held an online debate in December 2010 on just this topic. Suffice it to say, there is even less consensus on the effects language might have on behaviour, or the mechanism by which this might occur. Even if Chen's findings are robust enough to show a strong correlation between language and saving behaviour, there is a lot that needs to be done to show that it is a causal relationship, i.e. it is the language causing a change to saving behaviour.

However, my main concern with Chen's work is the actual application of this to tense systems of the world's languages. This will be the subject of my next post.

[Guy Deustcher's article in the New York Times (26/08/10): Does Your Language Shape How You Think? provides great coverage of the research in linguistics to a non-specialist reader.]

Nagaland village focus: Khuzama

As I prepare to leave India again (this time to spend Christmas at home with the family for the first time in years), I thought I'd share some photos from a visit to another friend's village in Nagaland. Like Khonoma village that we also visited, Khuzama is an Angami village. You can tell it's an Angami by the suffix -ma (corresponding to Sumi village names that end in -mi). However, most Angami speakers seem to replace the -ma with -ra / -rie when they refer to the villages in speech.

While Khonoma is a Western Angami village, Khuzama is one of the Southern Angami villages situated on the highway between Kohima and Imphal in Manipur. It's also the last Angami village before you reach the state border with Manipur and the start of Mao territory. The Maos (not to be confused with Maoists) are another related tribe. Linguistically, Southern Angami dialects are so different from Tenyidie (standard Angami based on Northen Angami) that they might constitute a different language altogether. My friend from Khuzama says he finds it easier to understand Chokri (one of the main languages of the group previously classified as 'Eastern Angami' but now known as Chakhesang).

The current Khuzama village gate

The weekend my friend from Australia was around, our Angami friends who usually live in Kohima had a church function to attend in Khuzama. I thought it'd be nice to go for a walk around the terraces and they were happy for us to take us to the village. They got one of the boys in the village to take us around, and also to explain to people why a couple of strangers were walking around their village.

Our 'guide' for the afternoon brought us to our friend's plot of land. Unlike with jhum cultivation, which involves shifting to a new field site every 2 years and the re-allocation of new plots to people to cultivate (typically by the village chief), terraces are 'owned' by the same people every year. They are also passed down from generation to generation, but only to sons I believe.

From the village, we could also see the neighbouring village of Viswema. I'm told it's the largest of the Southern Angami villages. If you've been on the highway from Kohima to Imphal, you would have probably noticed that most of the roofs on the houses have been painted red, making it almost look like some Italian village on a hilltop.

We walked down all the way to the little river / stream. It would've been nice to have a picnic on the rocks in the middle of the stream, but we hadn't organised ourselves that well.

We had a really pleasant afternoon walking around the terraced fields down to the stream. It didn't take us long to get down, but the climb back up was quite strenuous, and we weren't carrying baskets of grain or anything back up to the village with us! We were told that when there's a lot of work to be done in the fields, some villagers do sleep in the field huts that you can see dotting the hillside.


I should add that the Angamis and Chakhesangs (formerly 'Eastern Angamis', as mentioned above) are cited as the only two tribes in Nagaland to have started practising terracing before the arrival of the British. (They do still practise some jhum cultivation to grow other crops.) I've been asking around about the origins of terracing in these tribes, as it strikes me as imported technology, but no one I've asked has been able to give a satisfactory reply. I would be quite interested to find out more about local stories / folktales surrounding its origins in these communities.

Alright, this will probably be my last post in India for a while. I still have a backlog of material to upload, and I'll try to do that when I'm back in Singapore or Australia. In the meantime, Happy Holidays everyone!

Khonoma village (Take two)

Two years ago I visited Khonoma village, which is about 2 hours from Kohima (depending on road conditions). Unfortunately, the day I visited was terribly foggy and it was hard to see anything (see here). This time, I visited again shortly after the Hornbill Festival. Thankfully the weather was much better, since I also came with a friend from Australia who may not have another chance to come back.

Now, there are some friends who don't feel that Khonoma needs any special mention or recommendation. Even among my Angami friends, people from Khonoma are often perceived as being particularly proud, arrogant even. The village itself is famed for its defiance of the British which culminated in the Battle of Khonoma in 1879 that resulted in the deaths of a number of British soldiers.

The villagers even manufactured their own guns, based on models acquired in the plains of Assam. This particular gun required two people to hold it up, while a third person loaded it.

Another reason for the perceived 'smugness' might be because the village has also produced a number of intellectuals. I'm told the reason for this is that during the British siege, the villagers smuggled out a number of kids to Dimapur where they eventually received their education (and hence the overall better standard of education in the village compared to others in Nagaland). I'm not quite sure how true this is, but in the absence of other explanations, I'm willing to accept it. The village also produced a number of founding members of the Naga independence movement, including Phizo himself.

In any case, Khonoma is a pleasant place to visit if you're in Kohima for the Hornbill Fesitval (although the Southern Angami villages past the Kisama Heritage Village are also quite picturesque - but that's for another post). It prides itself on being a 'green village', and there are rubbish bins all over the village which to my eye are actually used. To my surprise, I learnt that the village still has a functioning morung, a kind of dormitory where young men were sent to learn about traditional ways and to form bonds with members of their peer group. (It was even more of a surprise for me because Hutton in his book The Angami Nagas mentions that the morung wasn't very significant to the Angamis). Some villages also had a female equivalent, although I was told there was none in Khonoma at the present time.

The streets are generally well maintained, with competitions between the various peer groups, known as peli in Tenyidie (the standard Angami dialect used in church and schools). Here, one can see the work of one peli working on a section of road, so that they don't get outdone by other peli who are in charge of other sections of the same road.

My Angami friends in Kohima organised the visit for us. We had a local guide named Michael, who used to be the president of the students' union here (I believe), and who was very knowledgeable about the village's history.

I don't normally do such recommendations, but I was quite impressed by his role in organising the members of the village to maintain its cleanliness and preserve the local wildlife. I would say that many villages in Nagaland could benefit from learning from Khonoma's system of organisation, but I don't want to inflate the villagers' egos any further!

If you are interested in visiting Khonoma village, you can contact Mr Michael Saphi (Khonoma Tours & Treks) at +91 98 5655 9394.

Hornbill Festival 2012

So the Hornbill Festival at Kisama has come and gone. This year I brought a friend from Australia along to enjoy the festivities. After my experiences at the festival last year and the year before, I didn't really want to spend all week in Kisama, since many of the shows start to feel repetitive after a few days. I thought it'd be best if we arrive on the 4th day for the last few days, then stay back a few more days to enjoy some of the sights around Kohima when most of the other tourists would have moved on. I think it was a good decision (as I sit here typing this in our now empty guest house).

My friend quite enjoyed the whole event, which his colleague in Melbourne had described last year as 'better than National Geographic', which makes me laugh a little. Sadly, in this post I won't be waxing lyrical about the festival, but would like to point out a few things that made me quite unhappy and in the process, perhaps raise a few questions about the future of the festival.

Looking at the photo below, you might notice the big black stage that was set up right next to the performance area, taking up a large chunk of what was previously audience space. This stage was used for the opening and closing ceremonies of the festival, on the 1st and 7th of December respectively. In between those two days, it seems that the stage was not used at all.

As far as I could see, additional seating had not been provided (apart from some reserved seats for soldiers and their families), even though a third of the previous years' seating was now taken up by a stage that was largely non-functional for the majority of the festival. And when it was used, the sight lines were so bad because of the large speakers, that many people sitting in the audience area (myself included) weren't able to see the actual performance onstage and had to resort to watching a small screen at the back of the stage. It seems the only people with a proper view of the stage were the people in the VIP area.

This non-consideration of general audience members was apparent during all the cultural performances too. While some performances were geared to the audience, most of them, especially the song items were not oriented to the general seating area, but to the VIP booth.

The Zeliang cultural troupe performing a song for the VIPs

If I now asked: "Who is the festival really for?", the answer would be rather straightforward. Not Nagas from all over the state. Not tourists, domestic and foreign. It's the small group of people that the organisers have deemed 'very important'.

I'm sorry, but people didn't come all this way to see performers' behinds while they perform. (Okay, maybe some people did, but only to take photos of them in costume.)

I was particularly disappointed at the closing ceremony - it didn't help that I could barely see the stage. At one point, the performers from the various cultural troupes had to get up and form the usual lines to welcome the Chief Guest who, as custom dictates, arrived late. In the middle of their chanting and singing, the 'pre-entertainment' started on the opposite side of the performance area, where singers on the big black stage started their renditions of ABBA and Bruce Springstein, while Bebop dancers popped and locked to Michael Jackson and the Black-eyed Peas. Given the much louder competition from the stage, many of the cultural troupes eventually stopped their own singing to watch the concert, as it was unclear when Neiphiu Rio was actually going to turn up.

What could have been 'cultural fusion' had turned into 'cultural confusion', with modern pop music drowning out the traditional (or rather, the acceptable version of 'traditional').

Once the Chief Guest arrived, the audience was treated to a concert, but it eventually took two hours for the large bonfire to be lit. During the concert, audience members were encouraged to come and dance, and many did, even though my friends and I thought it would have been much better to finish the formalities, like lighting the fire before asking people to jump in and let loose. I felt quite sorry for many of the cultural troupes, especially villagers from the eastern parts of Nagaland who looked cold as they shivered through the concert. A large bonfire while the concert was going on would have much more comfortable.


The question here I posed was: "Who is the concert for?" Maybe it was to expose the villagers, especially from the eastern regions to modern culture? It didn't look like many of them enjoyed it though. Maybe it was for the tourists, to show people them that 'Nagas are modern'. But after 2 hours of listening to Adele, Celine Dion, Psy and ABBA, my friends and I were saying, "Yes, we get it: Nagas are modern. Just light the damn fire already!"

Perhaps it was most obvious, when in the middle of the show, there was a request made to the Chief Minister to let the youth 'party a little bit more'. What could have been interpreted previously as an act of education, I now simply viewed as an act of self-indulgence, at the expense of all other audience members. Of course, even before the fire was lit, many younger audience members had already left, presumably to the Hornbill Rock Festival at the IG Stadium on the other side of Kohima.

In a number of ways, I think this year's festival truly reflected Nagaland in its current state. You could see the over-privileging of a small elite, the over-indulgence of youth consumerist culture, and the general struggle for a sense of cultural identity in today's world.

I don't think there's an easy way to address any of these issues. However, before I encourage other friends to come attend this festival (which itself was a creation of the government), I think the organisers need to sit down and reflect on who the festival is really for: Nagas (and which ones in particular), tourists (domestic or foreign) or just the VIPs?

Visit to Umananda Mandir, Guwahati

As I'll be heading back to Nagaland in a few days' time for the Hornbill Festival, I thought I'd finish posting about some of the sightseeing I've been doing in Guwahati the past two weeks. Last week, my friend A. S. dropped into Guwahati for a few days and we ended up doing a bit of sightseeing, visiting places that I hadn't been to, even though I've been in Guwahati since August, and this is the 2nd extended stay here.

One place we visited was the Umananda Mandir on Peacock Island, situated in the middle of the Brahmaputra, just north of the city. I'd seen the island many times from my walks along the Brahmaputra, but had never actually visited the island.

Getting there isn't too difficult. There are ferries (shared or for individual hire) at Sukreswar Ghat (or rather, the makeshift ghat next to the Sukreswar Ghat park between Fancy Bazar and Pan Bazar). We paid Rs 550 to hire a whole boat to take us to the island and back at our own leisure, but some guys that came back as we were heading off paid Rs 500. I think there was also a shared ferry that left at regular intervals, though I can't remember the price for that.

There is another ferry service that lives from Uzan Bazar Ghat, but I don't know the price either. [Note: this photo was taken near the end of the monsoon, when the water level was still very high. At this time of year, the boat on the left sits on a sand bank.]

The boat ride was pleasant enough, and took us past the real Sukreswar Ghat.

The highlight though, was seeing the sun set over the river. We left around 3.45pm, and given how far east we are within this time zone, the sun sets by about 4.30pm at this time of year here.

The temple complex itself was charming enough. It was originally a Shiva temple built by an Ahom king. (The Ahoms actually came from further east, speaking a language that is closer to Thai than to Assamese.) However, most of the original temple was damaged in the quake of 1897 and the temple was subsequently rebuilt. The current Wikipedia article says it was a 'rich local merchant', and judging by the use of tiles, I would hazard a guess that it was a Marwari merchant whose family hailed from Rajasthan.

And this is the temple itself.

Apart from the temple, the island is known to be home to a small troupe of golden langurs (a kind of monkey). We didn't have enough time to look for them as we walked around the island, but we did manage to see them in the trees on the boat ride back to Guwahati.

Next time I go, I'd probably give myself another half an hour or so and leave Sukreswar Ghat around 3pm (or roughly 1.5 hours before sunset), as I would've liked to have more time to look for langurs.

Still, it was a wonderful afternoon out on the Brahmaputra, and we got to see one of those amazing sunsets over the river that I've come to love.

Xtrm txt msging

Whenever I'm in India, I'm often struck by the 'extreme brevity' of some of the text messaging language or textese here. It may certainly be as extreme back in Australia among certain age groups, but I don't communicate via phone with any of these groups.

Here are just a few examples of messages I've received over the past few months. See if you can decipher what they mean.

1) M sori 2 say bt gues i wont b able 2 mak it on tuesday bcoz of d shftn... Will it b k if we mit on friday noon??

2) U cn kum 2 r plc bt d thng s we rnt stl proprly stld so it may b an inconvinc 4 u! If not u r most wlkum :-)

3) Its fyn... Do tk kr of ur health! So wn shl we mit? Ran ut of sms blnc!


[My apologies if I cause any embarrassment here. However, my point is not to embarrass, but to simply show examples of textese.]

You can see typical features of textese such as vowel deletion and the Rebus principle, whereby a letter or number that sounds like the word is used instead of the whole word. However, the reason I find this sort of texting 'extreme' is that most of the abbreviated forms are not in my textese vocabulary (which does include forms like 'cos', 'u', 'r'). In fact I wouldn't consider some of these to be conventionalised short forms of words.

I do acknowledge that there is a good economic reason underpinning this extreme brevity: fitting in as much information into a text message so you don't have to spend so much on phone credit. Consequently, more of the onus is transferred to the receiver to decipher the message, and not on the person texting to make the message more reader-friendly.

In the end, I did manageto understand the messages, but it took a lot more cognitive work on my part.

At this point, I can almost hear the usual complaints and laments about how things like text messaging and Twitter are causing the English language is going to the dogs. To this, I usually say, "Well, I can see that prescribed English spelling is suffering, but doesn't mean that the language itself is in a state of degeneration. Languages are constantly evolving and people often mistake change for degradation." There is however, some research out there about how texting can cause reading ability (and even grammar) to suffer.

TXT BAD 4 UR BRAIN? Text messaging can dent your reading abilities, say scientists. (Daily Mail, 17/02/2012)
Texting May Lead to Bad Grammar. (LiveScience, 26/07/2012)

I'm not about to critique these studies, as the findings seem to be all quite preliminary and there are other studies that suggest texting might help children's language development. Personally, I'm used to a certain amount of textese and I'm happy if the message is easy to understand. For me, communication is about a shared code, and if both parties are using the same code, then that's fine.

I do gripe occasionally when my students email me as if they're texting a friend, although I suppose that's to be expected as more people send emails from their phones. However, I think I gripe more about people who think that since I'm a linguist, I must be concerned about spelling, and worse, people who think 'good grammar' and 'good spelling' are the same thing!