Issue 12 - International Association of Applied Linguistics

AILA
R•E•V•I•E•W
No. 12
Applied Linguistics Across Disciplines
Address all correspondence relating to the AILA Review to:
David Graddol
Managing Editor, AILA Review
School of Education
Open University
Milton Keynes
MK 7 6AA
UK
email [email protected]
The AILA Review is a regular publieation of the
Association Internationale de Linguistique Appliquee
(AILA), whose establishment was decided in Stockholm in
1963 and whose constituent Assembly met at Nancy in
1964. AILA is a Federation 01' National Associations of
Applied Linguistics and is an NGO in operation al relations
with UNESCO.
Article 2 of the AILA Statutes:
L'Association a pom but de promouvoir les recherehes
dans les domaines de la linguistique appliquee, comme par
exemple l'acquisition, l'enseignement, l'emploi et le
traitement des langues, d'en diffuser les resultats et de
promouvoir la coordination et la cooperation
interdisciplinaires et internationales dans ces domains.
L' Assoeiation realise ees buts par touS les moyens a sa
disposition, notamment:
a) en organisant un congrcs mondial de linguistique
appliquee tous les trois ans
b) en organisant des seminaires ct des colloques
c) en creant des commissions scientifiques et des
groupes de travail
d) en assurant des publications scientifiques
L'AILA n'exercera aucune activite politique.
AILA Review
No. 12 • 1995/6
Applied Linguistics Across Disciplines
Edited by
Anna Mauranen and Karl Sajavaara
© 1997, AILA
Typeset in Bembo 10/12 by Catchline
Printed in the United Kingdom by
Aztech Creative Print, Milton Keynes
iii
Contents
1
Introduction
1
Anna Mauranen and Kari Sajavaara (eds)
2
Discourse across disciplines: discourse analysis
in researching social change
3
Norman Fairclough
3
Theoretical practice: applied linguistics as pure
and practical science
18
Christopher Brumfit
4
Applied linguistics within a principled framework
for characterizing disciplines and transdisciplines
31
Lars Sigfred Evensen
5
The role of literature in foreign language learning
and teaching: some valid assumptions and invalid arguments
42
Willis Edmondson
6
Translation and language teaching
56
Kirsten Malmkjaer
7
Documentary television: the scope for media linguistics
62
John Corner
8
Cultural aspects of genre knowledge
68
Tom Huckin
9
Communication and learning strategies
for translators
79
Andrew Chesterman
10
Impressions of AILA 1996
Diane Larsen-Freeman
87
1
Introduction
Applied linguistics is, by its nature, a multidisciplinary field, like most applied sciences.
Although the days are long gone when heated debates stormed around 'applied linguistics'
versus 'linguistics applied', the latest AILA Congress, in Jyväskylä Finland, was the first that
specifically took multidisciplinarity and crossdisciplinarity as its theme.
Setting the topic for the congress, we were aware of current turbulences in many areas
of the humanities and social sciences, where the need to redraw disciplinary boundaries is
acutely felt. Social and behavioural sciences have widely adopted a Âlinguistic turn', and
linguistic sciences are increasingly mingling their approaches, methods, and concepts with
their relevant neighbouring sciences. Bakhtin, Foucault, and Bourdieu have gained a firm
foothold in many areas of applied linguistics, and linguistic research has become deeply
involved in the rapidly expanding field of media studies. Postmodernism has firmly gripped
us all.
Within applied language studies itself, in the 'core' as it were, new trends are also
questioning old tenets - sometimes bringing back the classics, like translation and
vocabulary, sometimes introducing recent technology, as in teaching computer-aided and
corpus-based research. Issues such as fairness and social relevance pervade the practices in
our field in all directions.
In the congress, we wanted to bring the different sources, backgrounds and approaches
into dialogue with each other. This volume, based on a selection of papers from the
congress, reflects the same principle. This small selection can in no way do justice to all the
topics and issues which arose from the congress encounters, but we have tried to cover
some of the central strands.
We have given prominence to reflections of the place and constitution of applied
linguistics today. This theme dominates the first three papers, by Norman Fairclough,
Christopher Brumfit and Lars Evensen. They each in their way attempt to capture applied
linguistics as it enters the postmodern phase. Despite their different angles, the papers all
observe the plurality of current approaches in the field, as befits postmodernity.
The next two papers delve deep into the tradition of applied linguistics, tackling issues of
foreign-language teaching in the language classroom. Both address classic questions, but
take an unorthodox view, questioning some of our most cherished axioms - the value of
literature in foreign-language teaching (Willis Edmondson), and the usefulness of translation
for the foreign-language learning process (Kirsten Malmkjaer).
The core areas of classroom practice thus shaken, we again widen our horizon towards
crossdisciplinary areas. John Corner looks at media studies and the
2
possibilities of relevant linguistic research within the field from the perspective of media
research, that is, from outside language studies proper. Tom Huckin reviews recent
research in genre and culture, advocating thicker descriptions (in a Geertzian sense) in
both. Andrew Chesterman explores the notion of Âstrategy', central to several disciplines,
from the viewpoints of communication, learning, and translation bringing together insights from each of his sources.
A review of the Jyväskyä Congress by Diane Larsen-Freeman rounds up the volume and
continues the theme of the first three papers. It presents another angle of applied
linguistics today - how it appeared in the world congress. Together with Tom Huckin's
article, it represents a North American view of our discipline.
These articles represent something of the spirit of the many informed and
informative papers, discussions, and debates that were on-going throughout the AILA
Congress. This volume, we hope, is a record too, of a particular moment in the
development of applied linguistics, and one which perhaps heralds an exciting future for
multidisciplinary and crossdiscipline studies.
An na Mauranen and Kari Sajavaara
Savonlinna and Jyväskylä
October 1997
3
Discourse across disciplines:
discourse analysis in researching social change
Norman Fairclough
Lancaster University
Abstract
This paper discusses the contribution applied linguists might make to transdisciplinary
research on sociocultural change, taking the example of the 'marketisation' of the
discourse of higher education in Britain. It argues that contemporary sociocultural
change entails change in the social use of language, and that researching this entails
rethinking the agenda of critical discourse analysis with important consequences for the
way we theorise and analyse language. The paper also discusses implications for the
politics of language.
Introduction
I want to talk about an opportunity for applied linguistics which is also a challenge. We are
living in a period of dramatic and rapid economic, social, political, and cultural change.1
Contemporary social science is preoccupied with these changes, exploring them in terms of
such concepts as globalisation, detraditionalisation, and postmodernity. Applied
linguistics can make a significant contribution to this research. That is the opportunity.
One such area is in investigating the globalisation of discursive practices - of social use of
language - which is, I argue, a significant part of the general process of globalisation.
Academic discourse is a good example. The challenge is that in order to make that
contribution, we need to rethink our theories of language and ways of analysing
language.
Why is there an opportunity here for applied linguistics? First because contemporary
social life and processes of social change are centrally and essentially linguistically mediated
- there is a widespread acceptance of this in recent social theory.2 And second
because other social sciences cannot really get to grips with change in its linguistic
aspects without the contribution of traditions of close language analysis.
The linguistic turn in recent social theory is based upon a perceived turn to
language in modern social life - in the sense that key domains and aspects of social life
have become increasingly language-centred. Work, for example. And power. Though we
should perhaps talk of a semiotic turn, given for example the contemporary prominence of
texts which combine the verbal with the visual. The questions about language which follow
from this transcend disciplinary boundaries. New theories and ways of analysing language
are called for, and new objects of research. That is, I think, what 'discourse' is: a new
way of perceiving and researching Âuse of language', as a form of social practice. As the
concept of discourse illustrates, much of
4
the most original thinking is going on outside linguistics.3
This is a field for what Halliday in his 1990 AILA paper4 called 'transdisciplinary research' not merely 'interdisciplinary', if by that we mean collaborations which leave the disciplines
intact. To enter this field is to put one's own disciplinary theories and practices at risk. Yet
we need to enter this field if we are to address language socially. Applied linguistics has, as I
have suggested, a tradition of close analysis to contribute - I would emphasise a tradition of
analysis rather than particular ways of analysing. The challenge to applied linguistics is to
reshape its tradition in engaging with and trying to 'operationalise' new thinking about
language - including poststructuralist and postmodernist thinking - in new ways of analysing
language.5
The particular perspective I shall adopt is that of critical discourse analysis (CDA),6 which I
assume to be a part of applied linguistics. But the issues I shall raise have, I believe, a wider
relevance for applied linguistics.
What I want to do in this paper is as follows. First, briefly illustrate the sort of
contribution applied linguists might make to transdisciplinary research on sociocultural
change, taking the example of the 'marketisation' of the discourse of higher education in
Britain.7 Second, develop from this example an argument that contemporary sociocultural
change entails change in the social use of language which demands a change in the agenda
of CDA, and that this has important consequences for the way we theorise and analyse
language. Third, discuss the implications for the politics of language.
Marketisation of discourse
Major economic transformations lie at the root of contemporary processes of change8 depending partly on your favoured discourses, economic globalisation, a shift from Fordist
to post-Fordist production, a new focus on consumption and a huge expansion in service
industries, and so forth. And at the centre of all this, the new technology. Part of these
economic changes is marketisation - the incorporation of new areas of social life into the
market. An example is higher education in Britain over the past 15 years or so. Institutions
of higher education have been required by government to operate as businesses selling
their products to consumers. They are required to raise more of their funds from private
sources. They have used managerial approaches in, for example, staff appraisal and training,
adopted mission statements and institutional plans, subjected teaching to quality control,
and given much attention to marketing.
The social identities and social relationships of universities have surely been affected, but
it is not clear how much: these changes have been imposed from the top, and people often
pay lip-service to them while resisting them in one way or another, if only 'passively'.
I suggest that marketisation is substantively, though not of course entirely, a discursive
process - a matter of changing discursive practices. What we might call a Âmarketisation of
discourse'. A general indication of the pervasiveness of this process is the spread of
advertising discourse into new domains in public services, professions, and the arts,
including education. There has been a proliferation of forms of quasiadvertising discourse
which mix commodity advertising with a variety of other genres. In this paper are two
advertisements for British academic posts (see p.5,6), dating from 1992, to illustrate the
marketisation of academic discourse. I shall focus upon the second example.
The marketisation of higher education has entailed more attention to marketing,
5
so that publicly addressed discourse is
increasingly designed to 'sell' the institution - whatever else it is doing. This
applies to job advertisements. They have
conventionally
focused
on
giving
Department of English
information about posts. Example 1
Literature
illustrates this; it appeared in the same
place on the sane day as example 2. But
LECTURER
their marketised, as example 2 shows.
This implies heterogeneity - the mixing
Applications are invited for a Lectureship in the of genres and discourses. In this case,
Department of English Literature from the mixing of the traditional genre of
candidates who have expertise in any Post- advertisements for academic posts with
Medieval field. The post is available to be filled
the genres of commodity advertising
from 1st October, 1992, or as discourse is being
and
corporate
advertising.
Also,
soon as possible thereafter.
commodity advertising in particular is
Salary will be at an appropriate point on the heavily conversationalised - like much
Lecturer Grade A scale: £12,860 - £17,827 p.a. contemporary public discourse, it simulates face-to-face casual conversation,
according to qualifications and experience.
for instance in directly and individually
Further particulars may be obtained from the addressing the reader. To bring out the
Director of Personnel, Registrar's Office, genre mixing, we need to combine
University of Newcastle upon Tyne, 6 linguistic analysis with intertextual
Kensington Terrace, Newcastle upon Tyne NEI analysis. Intertextual analysis' identifies
7RU, with whom applications (3 copies), articulations of genres and discourses;
together with the names and addresses of linguistic analysis shows how these
three referees, should be lodged not later than
articulations are realised in the meanings
29th May, 1992.
and forms of the text or talk.
For
instance,
example
2
is
Please quote ref: 0726/THES.
contradictory in its interpersonal
meanings, in the construction of
(18704)
B9905
identities and social relationships, in
contrast with example 1. Example 2 is
Example 1
mainly personal: 'we're making a lasting
impact on the next generation of innovators and business leaders ... and you can help,' but
there are parts of it which share the impersonal interpersonal meanings and forms of
example 1: ÂApplication forms and further details are available from the address below.' The
contradictoriness realises the mixing of the impersonal genre of university job
advertisements with the personal genre of commodity advertising. Contradictory
interpersonal meanings of this sort are common in contemporary British discourse10.
People also use texts and talk to work on and try to resolve contradictions. We can
perhaps make sense of a rather puzzling feature of this example in these terms. In a
number of short verbal portraits, it positions the addressee as the future holder of the
advertised post. For example:
University of
Newcastle upon
Tyne
6
Example 2
7
With your ambition, energy and expertise, you will be committed to teaching at
both undergraduate and postgraduate level, while enjoying the advantage of our
close links with Industry and applied research initiatives to add to both your own
reputation and ours.
The puzzling thing about these verbal portraits is that they are depicting what qualities the
addressee would have in the job, in this case 'committed to teaching at both undergraduate
and postgraduate levels'. What is the motivation for this? It strikes me that it is a way of
setting requirements for the post without using obligational modalities such as 'you should'
or 'must be committed to teaching' (though the text does use 'need', twice). Such
obligational modalities would be problematic in this text given its mix of genres: in
conventional academic job advertisements, the institution has some authority over the
potential candidate and can impose requirements and conditions, but in the commercial
advertising, which this text is partly modelled on, it is the consumer that is constructed as
having the authority. So I'm suggesting that these verbal portraits provide a textual
resolution of a contradiction consequent upon the mixing of genres.
The analytical framework I am pointing to here is a version of critical discourse analysis. It
works across disciplines. It proceeds by mapping onto one another three different types of
analysis of discursive events:
•
•
•
analysis of texts and talk, including linguistic analysis
analysis of discursive practices of production and interpretation of text and talk (this
is where I locate intertextual analysis - it is analysis of how genres and discourses are
drawn upon and articulated together in text production and interpretation)
analysis of the social and cultural practices within which the discourse is framed
I should add that what I have just done is questionable in the light of what I am about to
say! I have given a reading of the example without identifying that reading as grounded and
operative within the social relations of the politics of language I am engaged in.
Interpretation and analysis are not so transparent.
I am now moving from the example to the central part of the paper. Let me summarise
the argument. Contemporary sociocultural change is affecting the social use of language in
profound ways, and marketisation of academic discourse illustrates some of these. CDA has
focused on discourse and power - especially ideology critique of discourse. I shall argue that
it not only needs to elaborate its power agenda, it also needs to combine it with a focus on
discourse and identity. That is now a common enough concern. What I want to suggest is
that major consequences for the theorisation and analysis of language follow from this. I
discuss in turn discourse and power, and discourse and identity.
Discourse and power
Language as 'commodity' The concept of the marketisation of discourse is still relatively
superficial. At the heart of the turn towards language in modern social life there is, I think, a
change in the relationship between language and economy which goes deeper than the
colonisation of new domains by the discursive practices of the market. We might express
this by saying that language has been economically penetrated, and economies have been
linguistically penetrated. The point is that the
8
economic shift towards consumption and service industries entails a shift in the nature of
commodities. Commodities are increasingly cultural, semiotic, and therefore linguistic in
nature;11 accordingly language is increasingly commodified and shaped by economic
calculation and intervention. Linguistic commodities include the products of the culture
industries - textbooks and TV programmes for example - but also the way receptionists or
shop assistants talk to clients. Talk is now part of the Âdelivery' of the service; part of the
goods. Like commodities generally, some linguistic commodities are themselves means of
production rather than finished goods - and types of interview used for recruitment or
appraisal of staff are an example. 12
The consequences of the commodification of language are far-reaching. For example,
there is, I think, a generalisation of the promotional function of language linked to the
spread of advertising I have referred to, so that the boundary between informing and
promoting - 'telling and selling' - becomes increasingly blurred.13 On a different level, design
is an increasingly important part of contemporary commodity production - and language as
commodity entails discursive practices being increasingly subject to design. We can
distinguish functional and aesthetic aspects of design.14 On the one hand, discursive
practices are functionally (and instrumentally) designed to better meet their designated
functions - this happens with discursive means of production like job interviews. On the
other hand, discursive practices such as advertisements or TV news are aesthetically
designed to attract consumers.15 A further consequence of commodification of language is
that language commodities must be susceptible to forms of accounting which can assess
their value16 - for instance, forms of accounting for evaluating classroom teaching encouraging forms of discourse which are accountancy-friendly and discouraging forms
which are not.
Language design is not in itself new - that's what traditional rhetoric is about. But
contemporary language design is unprecedented in its institutionalisation, its systematicity,
and its social reach. I have suggested elsewhere that a distinctive feature of contemporary
discursive practices is that they are 'technologised' - meaning that they are subject to
systematic strategic interventions which are part of wider attempts to engineer change in
pursuit of institutional objectives17. Technologisation of discourse involves researching
discursive practices, designing and redesigning them, and training institutional personnel.
This happens for instance with job interviews. We can see it as marking a change in people's
relationship to language: language is coming to be oriented to, as Heidegger called, a
Âstanding reserve', 18 a resource for systematic exploitation. Like the natural world.
Critique of discourse from the perspective of power in critical linguistics and CDA has
mainly been seen as ideology critique. What I am suggesting is that this agenda should also
include what we might call Âtechnology critique' of language19 - for example, critique of the
marketisation of the discourse of higher education - not in place of ideology critique, but in
conjunction and sometimes in tension with it. This implies by the way a recognition that
linguistic reflexivity, critical awareness of language, has an enhanced presence and role in
contemporary social use of language - perhaps as part of a general enhancement of
reflexivity in contemporary social life. 20
Discourse and identity
But there are deeper consequences for theorisation and analysis of language associated
with discourse and identity. I'll use the term 'identification' by the way for the process of
negotiating social identity and difference. 21
Contemporary social life is characterised by radical disarticulations and rearticula-
9
tions. Depending on your favoured discourses: a disarticulation of social structures in
discrete and unitary societies - a rearticulation of subjects and objects in what have been
called global 'flows'. A disarticulation of familiar class relations, a rearticulation of class
relations including the consolidation of a new 'underclass'. A disarticulation of relations
between states and economies leading to massive processes of migration, and cultural
diversification of societies. A disarticulation and rearticulation of relationships between
economy and culture, private life and public life, market and public services.22 These
transformations radically unsettle social identities, and they confront people with the
ongoing need for identification - for negotiating their relationships with and difference
from others on local, societal, and international levels . 23 There is a linguistic side to the
disarticulations and rearticulations, and to the negotiation of identity and difference. The
transformation of relations between states, cultures, social classes, and domains of social
life is also a disarticulation and rearticulation of discursive practices. Discursive change is in
this perspective the creative use of existing practices in new combinations. Discursive
practices are pervasively mixed.24 And it is in this mixing of practices, this redrawing of
boundaries, that identification is brought off.
Heterogeneity of texts and talk There are important consequences for our conception of
text and talk. To sum it up: it is normal for discourse to be heterogeneous in meaning and
form. A presumption of heterogeneity seems, for instance, a sensible working principle in
textual analysis, in contrast with a common presumption of homogeneity25 - in most genre
theory, for instance. But to avoid being one-sided in either direction, we might follow
Bakhtin and view text as embodying a tension between centrifugal and centripetal
pressures26 - pressures towards heterogeneity and pressures towards homogeneity. This
allows us to recognise that texts can be relatively homogeneous or relatively
heterogeneous, depending upon the sociocultural practices which frame them. What I am
arguing though is that contemporary social life pushes the heterogeneity of texts into the
foreground.
Viewed from the perspective of identity, the heterogeneity of texts is identification - the
ongoing negotiation of identity and difference. Returning to the earlier examples, there is
in this regard a contrast between examples 1 and 2. Example 1 illustrates a practice of job
advertisement which had achieved stability; it is consistent in its interpersonal meanings
and institutional identities. By contrast, example 2 illustrates an ongoing shift of practices.
Its interpersonal meanings are contradictory in ways I illustrated earlier. It is a textual
negotiation of institutional identity and difference; it projects a heterogeneous
construction of the identities of the university and the lecturer which elides the difference
between universities and commercial enterprises, lecturers and managerial workers. New
identities are constructed by combining together the discursive practices associated with
existing identities, redrawing the boundaries between 'voices', erasing differences between
orders of discourse.27 This points to the post-structuralist emphasis on subjects as
ongoingly and contradictorily constituted in texts - in contrast to a Cartesian, rational,
centred subject which is the source and author of the text.28 But these are projections of a
potential29 - to what extent such projected identities are actually taken up depends upon
what people do with texts like this - including how they interpret them.
The choice for a particular articulation of discursive practices is simultaneously a choice
against others; and a new construction of identity is simultaneously a new construction of
difference. Example 2 displays differences from the conventional identities
10
of academic life, evident in example 1, but also more than that. Contexts of articulatory
change open up possibilities for constructing new identities, including utopian possibilities30
- possibilities for escaping the rigidities of convention, and for escaping normalisation
through the individualisation of institutions and persons. Example 2 is a also choice against
such alternative possibilities. A task for CDA is to identify such utopian possibilities, and the
constraints which impede them. 31
Meaning and interpretation If discourse is heterogeneous, it is difficult to see text or talk as
determinate and unitary in meaning. The intertextuality of a text is open-ended - we cannot
claim to exhaust all possible links between a text and other texts, or genres and discourses;
and making these links is manifestly interpretative because it depends on our sociocultural
positioning and knowledge.32 This harmonises with the poststructuralist claim that meaning
is constantly deferred33 - texts and talk are intertextually and therefore interpretatively
open, so that there is no basis for finally arriving at the meaning.34 For instance, someone
suggested to me that advertisements like example 2 resemble local authority job
advertising. The advertiser here is an expolytechnic, and polytechnics were closely tied to
local authorities until quite recently, so this would give us a different intertextual network
and a different interpretation of the negotiation of identity and difference. The more
general point is that the presumption of homogeneity backgrounds practices and
foregrounds text - because it suggests that what people do as producers and consumers of
texts is predictable. The presumption of heterogeneity, by contrast, foregrounds practices,
and therefore diversity of interpretation. 35
But earlier work in critical linguistics and CDA did often treat texts and talk as having
determinate meanings corresponding to its own readings of them. 36 I suggest that is linked
to the tendency of CDA to do the politics of language, rather than researching it - as well as
to the presumption of homogeneity. This encourages analysts to counterpose the Âreal'
meaning to the apparent meaning, a move that is grounded in claims about ideology. I think
CDA should research as well as do the politics of language. And researching it entails relating
divergent interpretations to sociocultural positions. For instance it is important to know
how example 2 might be differently interpreted from different positions. But that doesn't
mean full-scale relativism. Because it also entails attending to the relative positions of
different interpretations in fields of social and political relations - different interpretations
are not produced by subjects isolated from each other in separate enclosed spaces, they
are produced by subjects in the course of, and as part of, their social relationships with
others. This means that we can recognise the epistemological relativism of interpretations
(that they are relative to social positioning), without being committed to a judgemental
relativism. 32 We are not bound to see all interpretations as equally good - we can evaluate
them in terms of who is using them to do what, and to whom. This also applies to the
interpretations produced in CDA, by the way.
Contradictions and dilemmas I've suggested that heterogeneity is the negotiation of
identity and difference. We can generalise this: heterogeneity is the presence and working
through of contradictions. Contemporary social life is deeply contradictory, and these
contradictions are experienced and responded to in its discursive events and texts. In the
discourse of higher education as I have suggested, but also for instance in political
discourse, in bureaucratic discourse, and in cross-cultural and cross-gender discourse. The
world and social subjects are discoursally constructed in contradictory ways - as are subjectsubject relations, and subject-world relations. And identification,
11
social relationships, and knowing are textually enacted in contradictory ways. We can also
say that heterogeneity is the presence and working through of dilemmas · ways of
experiencing, reacting to, and trying to move beyond these contradictions. 38 But this is, 1
think, an important part of the case for analysis of texts and interactions within social
research: it can foreground contradiction, dilemma, and struggle as an antidote to
schematism and determinism. 39
Orders of discourse For the analysis of heterogeneous discourse, we need to combine
linguistic analysis with intertextual analysis. The concept of intertextuality views a text as
generated out of other texts which it cites, echoes, contests, and so forth. Intertextual
analysis also maps texts onto Âorders of discourseÂ, the socially available resources for
discursive practice; it shows how people draw upon, cut across, and articulate together
orders of discourse, genres and discourses in textually negotiating change. I think
intertextual analysis and orientation to orders of discourse substantively enrich our
resources for description.
The Saussurean legacy is problematic both in its conception of language use · hence the
need to refocus on discourse · and in its conception of language system. We do need ways
of setting the actualities of discourse against the potentialities of language systems; but
we need to rethink systems in the light of sociocultural change40 which highlights both the
global interdependencies of societies and their internal diversity. The inadequacies of a code
view of system are clear. I think we need a concept like Âorder of discourseÂ. I see the order
of discourse of a particular social domain as the structured totality of discursive practices ·
genres and discourses · used within that domain. The emphasis is both on the diversity of
practices, and on the social structuring of diversity, in terms of, for example:
•
•
•
boundaries and flows between practices (and between orders of discourse)
relationships of complementarity tension, struggle between practices
hegemonic structuring and relations of dominance between practices
We might, for instance, describe in these terms the order of discourse of a particular
system of higher education:
•
•
•
•
charting relationships between parts of the order of discourse, e.g., the discursive
practices of research and teaching, and between the practices of different disciplines
identifying dominant and more marginalised or oppositional practices, and the dynamics
between them
identifying flows between this order of discourse and others, eg., the mass media, or
government
identifying struggles over the direction of articulatory movement:
The aim is to show that though there is a system · it is a complex, open, often opaque, and shifting
one. 41
Globalisation of discourse We can identify orders of discourse at various levels - locally
within particular institutions, societally, and - in an emergent way - globally. Globalisation is
central to contemporary social change. Increasingly, discursive practices as commodities,
both as finished goods and as means of production, circulate internationally. The orders of
discourse of different nation-states are interconnected, and this network of practices - an
emergent global order of discourse – constitutes
12
the horizon against which the orders of discourse of particular nation-states are formed
and transformed. For instance, the genre of TV news is not the same in all countries, but no
country is cut off from the emergent global order of media discourse with its hegemonic
ordering of practices, nor, to put it in more concrete terms, from the model of CNN news.
The same applies to discursive practice within workplaces, and new practices such as
Âquality circles', and to the discourse of academic writing. But globalisation of discourse
should be seen as a global-local dialectic, not as a simple international spread of globally
dominant practices. International practices are taken up and reacted to in vastly different
ways, depending upon the internal dynamics of particular societal orders of discourse.
When people produce texts and talk, they draw upon orders of discourse at local,
national-societal, and global levels. An objective for CDA is to trace the interplay within
discourse between orders of discourse at these different levels - an interplay of horizons.
Contradictions and dilemmas can be seen partly in these terms. For instance, the dilemmatic
process of identification in example 2 involves as we've seen a tension between academic
and commercial orders of discourse. But the example also perhaps shows a tension between
national-societal and global levels: the point is that institutions and individuals are now
often discoursally negotiating their identities under pressure from global as well as national
and local models and discursive practices. A contrastive analysis of Finnish and British
political discourse recently made with a Finnish colleague suggested this sort of tension
between global and national orders of discourse. 42
To sum up these ideas on discourse and identity. Contemporary social life pushes CDA
towards a critique of identification in discourse as well as a critique of power. This
foregrounds the disarticulation and rearticulation of discursive practices, and forces us to
rethink Âtext and talk' and Âlanguage system'. It places heterogeneity, intertextuality,
contradictions, diversity of interpretations, and orders of discourse at different levels at
the centre of the study of social use of language.
The politics of language
What I am suggesting is a doubling of the agenda of CDA, not the replacement of its
established agenda - power - by a new agenda - identification. But these are not really
separate agendas, they are intertwined: the process of identification is shaped by relations
of power, and vice-versa. People are trying to locate themselves in relation to structures
they are trying to discern, while being caught up in struggles to control and transform
these structures.43 I think we must see discursive events as complex events and texts as
complex entities. In example 2 the institution seems to be negotiating its own identity while
it is engaged in ideological and market processes and relations. It is positioning the potential
employee in a particular way as part of the ideological work of reshaping institutional
culture and identities for new economic circumstances. And it is selling itself in a
competitive market, where projecting a settled and centred, rational self is a ground rule
for success however unsure your institutional or individual sense of identity may be.44 45 So
the institution has to try to project itself as settled and centred while negotiating its
unsettled-ness and decentred-ness. A task for CDA is to show how this complex process is
discursively and textually brought off - and more generally, how identification intersects
with power in discourse.46 I have argued for instance that the pervasive
conversationalisation of contemporary public discourse is at once a sophisticated mode of
domination and a resource for negotiating identity and difference - it cannot be reduced to
one or the other: it is a
13
terrain of struggle.
We might think of the politics of language as itself doubled - a politics of emancipation in
tension with an 'identity politics.'47 But rather than separate power and identity agendas,
we might say that changes in social life have brought changes in what is foregrounded in
discursive relations of power. Earlier it was representations of the world and ideologies that
were foregrounded, while identities were taken to be relatively settled. Now it is
identification that is foregrounded. But it is a matter of foregrounding: identification has
always been of political significance, representations and ideologies continue to be.
But I suggested that CDA is both researching and doing the politics of language. How
should we see the relationship between the lived politics of language, and CDA as academic
critique of language? One could argue that the recent growth in critical awareness of
language has largely come from struggles in grassroots politics which have opened up new
domains of life to critical knowledge.48 The women's movement is, I think, the best
example.49 Through failing to reflect on its position within the field of the politics of
language, CDA often gives the impression of generating critical knowledge of language
solely from its own position within the academy. A more epistemologically coherent view
would be that CDA has acted as a bridge between sociopolitical movements and the
academy, giving wider public presence50 to the perspectives and knowledges of these
movements, while bringing theoretical resources to them." I think this gives us a better
basis for addressing the status, origins, possibilities, and limitations of critique of language.
But these movements are very diverse - there is no unitary perspective of the oppressed,
the minorities, the marginalised. Part of the task of CDA should be to explore comnionalities
and differences between critical knowledges of language associated with these movements
- as well as the different utopian possibilities they open up. The aim is to identify
possibilities for a common discourse of critique or an alliance of discourses of critique which
are rooted in accommodations between critical knowledges, rather than any top-down
imposition of critical knowledge.52 The focus I have suggested upon the dialectic of power
and identification is part of this. The broader political objective here is a renewal of an
emancipatory politics which gives space to difference.53 The politics of language which CDA
does in accordance with such an objective is a matter of the discourses it brings to the
order of academic discourse on language, and the positions it takes in arguments about
language.
I began with one boundary issue - transdisciplinarity - and I have ended with another - the
academy and the 'real-world'. Both are concerns for applied linguistics in general, as well as
for CDA.
Notes
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
For accounts of these processes of change see e.g., Beck et al., 1994; Giddens, 1990; Harvey, 1990;
Lash and Urry, 1994; Laclau, 1994.
Evident for instance in some of the references in note 1.
On discourse, see Foucault, 1984.
Published in Halliday, 1993. On transdisciplinary research and the critique of interdisciplinarity, see
Dubiel, 1985; Kellner, 1989.
Post-structuralist and postmodernist thinking constitutes a direct challenge to theories and practices
of analysis within applied linguistics and within Critical Discourse Analysis. See Habernias, 1987b, for a
general critique.
See Fairclough, 1995a, 1995b; Fairclough and Wodak, 1997.
I discuss marketisation of academic discourse more fully in Fairclough, 1993. The discussion
14
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
below is based upon this paper.
See the references in note 1, especially Lash and Urry, 1994.
On intertextuality and intertextual analysis see Fairclough, 1992b.
See Fairclough, 1993, 1994.
On the sign-value of commodities, see Baudrillard, 1981.
Commercial advertisements are linguistic commodities which are designed to sell other commodities
as well as be directly consumed in their own right as cultural commodities.
See Wernick, 199 1; Fairclough, 1993.
On design see Whiteley, 1991; Lash and Urry, 1994; Fairclough, 1995c.
Aesthetic design of linguistic commodities has a multisemiotic character, as in advertising. The
increasingly multisemiotic character of contemporary texts (Kress and van Leeuwen, 1996) can be
largely attributed to commodification of language.
Lyotard has discussed this issue and the commodification of language more generally in Lyotard,
1986.
The institutions may be either economic or governmental - the process can be seen in Habermas's
terms as colonisation of the lifeworld by the systems of money and power (Habermas, 1984,1987a).
See Heidegger, 19fî9.
A shift from ideology critique to technology critique is sometimes associated with postmodernism,
though such a shift took place within Frankfurt School critical theory (the dialectic of
Enlightenment). See Adorno and Horkheimer, 1973. Recent interest in language and ecology can be
seen as a move towards technology critique of language - see Halliday, 1993; Harre and Muhlhausler,
forthcoming.
As suggested for instance by Giddens, 1990.
For the use of the term in this sense, see Laclau, 1994.
Such articulatory transformations are dramatically present in contemporary social life, but they are
hardly new -'the world turned upside down' has been a familiar refrain through the modern period see e.g. in the Communist Manifesto (Marx and Engels, 1969).
I am not suggesting for a moment that contemporary social life is unique in this, only that it puts it
into sharp focus. Identification will be a preoccupation in any period of intense change. It is now a
commonplace that a person's social identity is not unitary but a configuration of identities; so we
can see the external negotiation of difference with others as continuous with - and rooted in - the
internal negotiation of difference in the struggle to constitute the self. See Calhoun, 1995, for this
argument.
Across languages, the orders of discourse of different societies, the discursive practices of cultural
groups, boundaries of social class and gender, different discursive fields, genres and discourses. The
contemporary linguistic scene is a radical transformation of discursive space and place, radical
processes of displacement, decontextualisation, and recontextualisation. Marketisation of discourse
is an example. This view of discursive practices can be seen as part of a general foregrounding of
hybridity in contemporary social life. See Pieterse, 1995.
This is evident for instance in the concept of textual 'macrostructure', which presupposes the
thematic unity of texts (van Dijk, 1988). A presumption of homogeneity has been common within
CDA too, and corresponds to a focus on texts in social reproduction, rather than texts in social
transformation.
See Bakhtin, 1981.
An open question is whether the process of identification is to be seen as striving towards a
recentering of the subject, or accommodating to an inevitable and insuperable decentredness. See
Laclau, 1994.
The Cartesian subject is still firmly in place within linguistics and applied linguistics.
I am grateful to Judith Greene for this formulation.
See Jameson, 1984.
In the case of recent change in higher education, perhaps we need to ask why such possibilities were
so little taken up - how articulatory change was so successfully channelled and homogenised. Though
the conversationalisation of public discourse exemplified in example 2 can be read in utopian terms
as opening public discourse to the humanising practices and
15
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
identities of private life - but it is deeply ambivalent, because conversationalisation is so widely used
as a strategic device.
This applies to any interpreter, the participant but also the academic analyst.
See Derrida, 1978.
This is not to say that linguistic analysis is Âobjective' in the sense of being unaffected by the
analyst's sociocultural position; it is just that its positioned and interpretative nature are less
obvious. Note that we need an account of interpretation which fits in with the presumption of
textual heterogeneity and the centering of intertextualiry.
We might put the issue here in terms of the relationship between texts and practices. If we presume
a discursive order consisting of discrete and settled discursive spaces governed by codes, it is easier
to assume that texts have determinate and unitary meanings though there is space for argument
over the nature of the code and the sort of meanings texts have (e.g. whether they are ideological).
Practices of text production and interpretation can be assumed to be determined by the code. If on
the other hand we presume a discursive order in which discursive spaces are open to the mixing of
diverse orders of discourse, genres and discourses, how people act in these spaces cannot be taken
as given (determined by codes) and therefore analytical attention can be focused upon practices as
well as texts.
The usually implicit rhetorical context of these analyses set critical readings against noncritical
readings, oppositional readings against hegemonic readings; and the usually implicit epistemology
was a realist one - the real meaning of a text as opposed to it apparent or claimed meaning.
See Bhaskar, 1979.
We might sum this up by saying that texts are a site of social struggle.
See Fairclough, 1992b for an argument to this effect.
The view of systems as codes, and the idea of 'a language' as a unitary code, belong to the modern
focusing of social analysis on the nation state. Like other concepts in social analysis, they are
ideological in the sense that they construe the political project of the nation-state - and in this case
of the unitary code - as social fact. The same applies to the lower-level codes - like Âacademic English' in terms of which variation within 'the language' is conceptualised. These are seen as unitary codes,
in complementary distribution, used according to 'rules of appropriateness' (see Fairclough, 1992c,
for a critique).
Concepts of structure and system have been subjected to a thoroughgoing critique within poststructuralism (Derrida, 1978).This does not mean we can simply forego these and other
'metaphysical' concepts (e.g. social subject). Perhaps the systemic is best thought of as a way of
thinking which is unavoidable in modern societies, without being the only way of thinking (suggested
by Calhoun, 1995).
See Fairclough and Mauranen, forthcoming.
The wider question here is whether critique of language in the tradition of critical theory - which
CDA has practiced - and post-structuralist and postmodernist critique of language are necessarily
antagonistic, or can be synthesised within a renewed critical theory of language. I believe they can.
The heterogeneity of the text shows how the institution has drawn from socially available orders of
discourse to try to resolve the dilemma. But we would need to look at practices of text production
and text consumption to see the strategic calculation that went into the text, and whether the risks
paid off the institution is making a move in a pre-structured and pre-interpreted field where the
heterogeneity of the text might for instance be critically interpreted as in coherence.
Issues like 'the social subject' which are abstractly debated in critical and post-structuralist theory
are lived as practical dilemmas in discursive events. See Davies and Harre, 1991, for a discussion of
the pressures in narrative to reconcile contradictory positionings of the subject in projecting a
unitary centred subject.
Another way to formulate the task of CDA is in terms of 'mapping'. We need maps of the world to be
able to act within and upon it. Yet the world is increasingly opaque and difficult to map. People have
the difficult task of trying to produce maps of the world - and identification is part of this - while
acting discursively, and while enacting relations of power. A
16
task for CDA is to show how this is discursively brought off- failure as well as success.
47 A number of recent accounts of contemporary politics see it as a 'double world' of emancipatory and
'life' politics - see Beck, 1994; Giddens, 1994. One consequence of the doubling of the politics of
language is that draws attention to ambivalence: I have argued (Fairclough, 1994) that the pervasive
convcersationalisation of contemporary public discourse is at once a sohisticated mode of
domination and a resource for negotiating identity and difference - it cannot be reduced to one or
the other, it is a terrain of struggle.
48 See Haraway, 1991, on 'situated knowledges'.
49 I think CDA owes more to the women's movement than it generally recognises.
50 Analysis of the social relations of academic discourse with particular attention to CDA is necessary to
understand the consequences of the recontextualisation of critical knowledges within the academy.
One should be conscious of the possibility that such a recontextualisation contains and tames such
knowledges more than it gives them public space.
51 It should be noted that the perspectives of the sociopolitical movements are quite widely divergent,
so it is not a matter of CDA bringing a single perspective into the academy. See Haraway, 1991 and
Calhoun, 1995 (who discuss these issues in terms of Âstandpoint theory'). For an example of CDA
which adopts the perspective of a social movement see van Dijk, 1993.
52 See Rothfield, 1991, for the argument that although all knowledges are locally rooted, they are
generalisable through Âadaptation' to new domains. She refers to a politics of adaptation in which
negotiated processes are in tension with Âstandardisation'; the imposition of knowledges on new
domains.
53 This is also I believe the frame within which CDA should engage with post-structuralist and
postmodernist critique of language: diverse theoretical positions are anchored in different
sociopolitical experiences and struggles, and the surpassing of theoretical divisions is linked to the
mediating of social difference.
Acknowledge
Acknowledgements
I am grateful for comments on earlier versions of this paper to the following: Erzsebet Barat, David
Barton, Roz Ivanic, Anna Mauranen, Greg Myers, members of the 'Language, Ideology and Power' research
group at Lancaster University, and participants in the ÂTexts and Practices conference in Lancaster, July
1996.
References
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Fairclough, N. (1993) Critical discourse analysis and the marketisation of public discourse: the universities.
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Clevedon: BAAL/Multlingual Matters.
Fairclough, N. and Mauranen, A. (Forthcoming.) Conversationalisation of political discourse: a comparative
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Interaction. London: Sage.
Foucault, M. (1984) The order of discourse. In M. Shapiro (ed.) Language and Politics. Oxford: Blackwell.
Giddens,A. (1990) Modernity and Self Identity. Cambridge: Polity.
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(eds) Enterprise Culture. London: Routledge.
18
Theoretical Practice: applied linguistics
as pure and practical science
Christopher Brumfit
University of Southampton
Abstract
This paper develops available definitions of applied linguistics to demonstrate that (i) the
criteria for successful applied research should be the same as for research in other
interdisciplinary fields, and (ii) such criteria for applied linguistics relate to current
philosophical discussion of language, cultural identity and communicative practices.
Introduction
In my 1995 Pit Corder Lecture to the Annual Meeting of the British Association for Applied
Linguistics (Brumfit, 1996), I traced the history of the term 'applied linguistics' up to 1990. I
shall briefly summarise the key points of that discussion, as a preliminary to a consideration
of the nature of a Âpostmodernist' applied linguistics, reflecting current views on the nature
of science and the nature of language. I shall also attempt to clarify my own definition of
applied linguistics as:
The theoretical and empirical investigation of real-world problems in which
language is a central issue. (Brumfit, 1991:46)
But first I wish to consider some of the problems of major alternative definitions. The
distinction between linguistic and applied scholarship goes back at least to Plato (see e.g.
Philebus I8b) and classical rhetorical studies. The eminent Danish linguist Rasmus Rask (17871832) is cited (Gregersen, 1991:12) as distinguishing between theoretical linguistics
(discovering and formulating laws) and applied (explanations of words and grammar) but
Howatt (1984:265) follows contemporary convention in dating the term Âapplied linguistics'
to the launch of Language Learning - a Quarterly Journal of Applied Linguistics in 1948.
Discussion of the nature of applied linguistics proliferated in the 1960s and 1970s, as
AILA, and many national associations were founded. Halliday, McIntosh and Strevens
comment, ÂUntil fairly recently it was often assumed that linguistics had no applications; the
subject was thought of as knowledge for its own sake' (1964:138),
19
and then remark that, 'applied linguistics starts when a description is specifically made, or
an existing description used, for a further purpose which lies outside the linguistic sciences'.
Such early discussions were confident about the relationship between linguistics and
applied areas like language teaching, though they anticipated many of the difficulties that
are still being raised about any simple relationship between linguistics and practice. Mackey
expressed the standard critique of that position clearly in a definition/historical note in
1966:
Contemporary claims that applied linguistics can solve all the, problems of language
teaching are as unfounded as the claims that applied psychology can solve them. For
the problems of language teaching are central neither to psychology nor linguistics.
Neither science is equipped to solve the problems of language teaching.
It is likely that language teaching will continue to be a child of fashion in
linguistics and psychology until the time it becomes an autonomous discipline
which uses these related sciences instead of being used by them. To become
autonomous it will, like any science, have to weave its own net, so as to fish out
from the oceans of human experience and natural phenomena only the elements
it needs... (Mackey, 1966:255)
Politzer (1972:2) and Corder (1973) see applied linguistics as a technology, theoretically
dependent on linguistics:
The application of linguistic knowledge to some object or applied linguistics, as its
name implies is an activity. It is not a theoretical study. It makes use of the findings
of theoretical studies. The applied linguist is a consumer, or user, not a producer, of
theories ... Language teaching is also an activity, but teaching languages is not the
same activity as applied linguistics. (Corder, 1973:10)
Such a definition is still commonplace in basic dictionaries and reference books (Crystal, A
First Dictionary of Linguistics and Phonetics, 1980:289, The Cambridge Encyclopedia of
Language, 1987:412; Richards et al., Longman Dictionary of Applied Linguistics, 1985:15;
Kaplan and Widdowson in the International Encyclopedia of Linguistics, 1992:76).
Thus there was agreement that applied linguistics mediates between theoretical
disciplines and practical work. But simultaneously, another strand of argument was visible.
Peter Strevens, had already, in a memo for AILA 1975 (published as Strevens, 1980), pressed
Corder's definition further. Applied linguistics involved both theory and practice, had
multiple bases, not just linguistics, and was not restricted to language learning and
teaching. Most interestingly, he observed that it 'redefines itself afresh for each task' (p.19),
and is dynamic not static. Spolsky (1978) proposed an Âeducational linguistics' in order to
escape a perceived closer link to linguistics rather than to, for example, pedagogy in
educational work. Widdowson, introducing 'Explorations in Applied Linguistics', still works
within the Language Teaching model, but makes more ambitious claims:
Applied linguistics, as I conceive it, is a spectrum of inquiry which extends from
theoretical studies of language to classroom practice. The papers appearing here
explore issues that can be located at different points on this spectrum: some with a
focus on matters of a predominantly theoretical
20
kind, others with a primary focus on matters of practical pedagogy. But in all cases
the whole spectrum is presupposed as the context of discussion... (Widdowson,
1979:1)
Corder's avoidance of theoretical concern is explicitly repudiated:
Language teaching is necessarily a theoretical as well as a practical occupation. If this
were not so, discussion on the matter would reduce to an exchange of anecdotes
and pedagogy would be a mere pretence. ... A communicative orientation involves a
consideration of a whole host of issues: how discourse is processed, how interaction
is conducted, learning styles and strategies, developmental patterns of language
acquisition, the role of learner and teacher - all these and more, (Corder, 1973:2,3)
Crystal suggests that a methodology is what is distinctive:
...what one is applying is not so much knowledge about language, as a way of
investigating language a methodology, as distinct from an empirical, dimension for
the subject. (Crystal, 1981:2)
But is it a methodology of language? Or is 'language' purely the technological instrument of
broader objectives that are inescapably entwined with applied linguistics - economic,
political, social, or religious goals?
Widdowson (1980:169) suggests a bidirectionality between linguistics itself and applied
linguistics, distinguishing between 'linguistics applied' which 'works in one direction and
yields descriptions which are projections of linguistic theory which exploit the data of
actual language as illustration' and 'applied linguistics' which 'works in the opposite way and
yields descriptions which are projections of actual language which exploit linguistic theory
as illumination.'
This is much more than mediation, for applied linguistics appears to be emerging as an
integrated discipline, feeding in to linguistics technically sophisticated statements about
language in genuine social situations, on the one hand, and responding to the needs of
practitioners, on the other. Cook and Seidlhofer provide an eclectic list of possible 'readings'
of linguistic data:
Language is viewed in various theories as a genetic inheritance, a mathematical
system, a social fact, the expression of individual identity, the expression of cultural
identity, the outcome of dialogic interaction, a social semiotic, the intuitions of
native speakers, the sum of attested data, a collection of memorized chunks, a rulegoverned discrete combinatory system, or electrical activation in a distributed
network ... We do not have to choose. Language can be all of these things at once.
(Cook and Seidlhofer, 1995:4)
Each of these reflects a set of beliefs about the nature of science and the nature of
language. Thus it is scarcely surprising that the issue is subject to so much debate. In some
contemporary traditions, for example SLA empirical work, a 'linguistics applied', or at least a
theory applied, model is widely accepted, and is defended with some acrimony (see, e.g.,
Beretta, 1991; Long, 1993; and in opposition, Block, 1996). The 1990s have seen a further
argument developing, with a stronger underpinning in ideology. Phillipson indicts applied
linguistics along with other agents of 'English linguisticism' and call, for a 'critical' applied
linguistics (1992:321). Similarly, Pennycook writes:
21
One of the problems with applied linguistics ... has been its divorce from educational
theory and the tendency to deal with language teaching as a predominantly
psycholinguistic phenomenon isolated from its social, cultural and educational
contexts. (Pennycook, 1994:299)
Though this seems very unfair to the sociolinguistically orientated communicative language
teaching movement as exemplified by, for example, the work of the Council of Europe
(Trim, 1988), it does reflect the lack of a clear ideological base of much language teaching
theory, which is essentially technological in orientation.
Again, if the journal Applied Linguistics is typical, the concentration on first world
scholarship (e.g. 32 out of 40 authors from Europe or North America in vols. 8 and 9; 34 out
of 45 in vols. 12 and 13), suggests a heavy emphasis away from many centres of real-world
practice. So Pennycook can justifiably claim that:
With the gradual consolidation of applied linguistics, furthermore, there has been a
constant move towards educational expertise being defined as in the hands of the
predominantly male Western applied linguistic academy, rather than in the hands of
the largely female teaching practitioners.... we need a reconceptualization of the role
of teachers and applied linguists that does away with the theory/practice divide and
views teachers/applied linguists as politically engaged critical educators. (Pennycook,
1994:303)
Similar debates can be found in other fields (see e.g. Blaug, 1980, in economics; Gibbon,
1989, in archaeology; Purvis, 1992, in education).
A socially contextualised applied linguistics
A widely proposed solution is to reject the positivist tradition that has allegedly inhibited
previous discussion, and to embrace alternative philosophies, to accept the postmodernist
critique, and to deny the validity of previous procedures. Postmodernist critiques are in
many respects liberating. We each stand at the intersection of many discourses, and the
proposal that a single grand scheme is neither necessary nor attainable, may relieve us of
the burden of seeking it. But there are problems with wholesale rejection of previous
practice. Such rejection fails to recognise our social and historical interconnectedness: we
are culturally different at the same time as we are culturally the same, and emphasising
either to the exclusion of the other obscures the crucial question of the relationships
between similarity and difference? Any investigation of practice in the real-world is confronted
by both similarity and difference, and understanding how to incorporate them into our research
practice is a central question for applied linguistics.
The definitions that we have so far encountered are not so much incompatible with each
other as successive steps on a journey towards autonomy. While they may be related to
Evensen's (1995) comparison of general and applied linguistics, they may also be viewed as
positions about scientific activity in general, with applied linguistics being distinguished by
deriving from 'real-world' (i.e. problem definitions initiated by non-linguists) issues, but still
engaged in explanation, generalisation and theorising about these. The object of study is
embedded in practice, but the purpose and epistemological concerns remain the same as
those for any other science: the production of better and better explanations. In applied
linguistics as characterised above, we first have the technical argument, using linguistics for
purposes beyond linguistics (Halliday, McIntosh and Strevens; Politzer; Corder). Second is the
inter-
22
disciplinary argument that any applied problem, while needing to call upon linguistic
procedures, cannot be solved solely by those, as the nature of language requires an
embeddedness in social and psychological action, so that these (and other) factors must
come into play also (Mackey; Strevens; Spolsky). Third is the claim that theorising and
investigative methodologies have to be remade to encompass the larger task of theorising
and investigating linguistic practice as defined in the second (Widdowson; Crystal). Fourth is
the demand for social accountability and for a valueladen acceptance of the ideological
bases of the linguistic real-world problems that applied linguistics is required to address
(Phillipson; Pennycook). This fourth move can be seen as a shift away from linguistics
altogether, and not surprisingly it is particularly contentious. Nonetheless, this progression
can be seen as a continuous dialectic between an autonomous and idealised vision of
language and a socially accountable view. First, the techniques of description are utilised;
second, they are seen as restricted to only some features of language, so autonomy is
questioned; third, the richer account of language has to be retheorised to reintegrate into a
richer idealisation; fourth, the value system of the whole process has to be questioned, to
challenge the richer idealisation.
We should note, though, the different questions that lead to the various positions
outlined above. In the first, the question relates to an idealisation, a reification of language,
to enable it to be seen as a Âsystem of systems', Âa structure in its own right', and so on. The
techniques for describing this autonomous entity (itself necessarily a convenient fiction)
can then be utilised, as appropriate, for descriptive, and thus for applied purposes. In the
second, the definition of the nature of language underlying the first is questioned.
Language, it is claimed, is instantiated in social and psychological behaviour and
consequently autonomous descriptions are inefficient (particularly perhaps for typical
applied 'real-world' purposes) because they are partial. In the third, a claim is made that a
richer idealisation (though still, and unavoidably a convenient fiction, an idealisation) can be
theorised from cross disciplinary and interdisciplinary understandings. In the fourth, the
processes of idealisation are (as in the second) undermined by a claim that competing
idealisations exist, that they serve the interests of individual and power groups, or that
idealisation may not be necessary at all. It is to this postmodernist critique that I now wish
to turn, recognising that it provides the strongest current challenge to the tradition I have
tried to define above.
Postmodernism and applied linguistics
The past decade has seen a large body of literature interpreting postmodernism for nonspecialist audiences (a convenient encyclopedic source is Lechte, 1994). I shall draw upon a
number of specific criticisms of earlier approaches that derive from postmodernism, in
order to isolate those which are most significant in applied linguistics. Writers most
frequently cited include a range of precursors including Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Bakhtin,
Sartre and even Popper, but those who are presumed by commentators to be card-carrying
postmodernists (though most would deny the value of such a concept!) are mainly Frenchwriting cultural theorists such as Lacan, Derrida, Foucault, Lyotard, Bourdieu and Kristeva.
Applied linguists who have drawn upon some of their ideas include Bourne (1988), Fairclough
(1989 and later writings), Tollefson (1991), Gee (1991), Cameron et al. (1992), Phillipson
(1992), Pennycook (1994), Rampton (1995), and Masny (1996). In associated disciplines,
Walkerdine (1988 and later writings) in psychology, and Usher and Edwards (1994) in
education have made explicit attempts to interpret postmodernism for other purposes.
23
It will be clear from the range and eclecticism of the writers cited that what is being
discussed is more a general tendency in thinking, something in the Zeitgeist, rather than a
single and coherent system; indeed one of the major tenets of this approach is the explicit
repudiation of single or coherent systems. Thus it is appropriate to extract a number of key
themes for consideration, without insisting on systematicity.
Fundamentally, postmodernism is a critique of the enlightenment project which has
dominated post-Cartesian thinking and post-1776, or 1789, political and social theory - the
very fact that the dates of the American and French revolutions are resonant for all of us
testify to the durability of the beliefs that postmodernist critics are opposing. At its
broadest level, the concern is reflected in Lyotard's (1984) attack on 'meta-narratives', on
attempts to see human activity as part of a grand scheme, driven by notions of progressive
improvement of any kind.
The Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor (1994) has drawn attention to two conflicting
traditions that have emerged from the enlightenment: on the one hand, an emphasis on the
similarity between people, leading to concerns with 'rights' for individuals based on our
sameness in entitlement; on the other, an emphasis on the rights not of people but of
peoples, of communities, leading to concerns for the authenticity of cultures and the
Ârights' of groups based on our differences, as cultures. The postmodernist debate, like the
multicultural debate, centres round the impossibility of holding both these postenlightenment positions at once. The interests of a 'universal subject', a human being
sharing attributes with all other human beings, conflict with the interests of an individual
uniquely grounded within a particular culture.
Now language, as a major mediating factor for the individual and the social group, is
central to this conflict, so it is difficult for applied linguists to avoid positioning themselves,
wittingly or unwittingly, in the debate.
My own interest in such problems emerged from a different route: an interest in the
critical-community theories of such diverse philosophers as Bakhtin (see, most conveniently,
Holquist 1990), Popper (1994a) and Habermas (1984,1987). Each of these, in different ways,
tried to encapsulate variation in human experience through the notion of collaborating but
different discourse communities. But each recognised that the process of communication is
more important than the product of communication: products will always be subject to
repudiation, modification, and reinterpretation but the lack of an agreed process for
comment and criticism will result in less satisfactory or false knowledge, dangerous when
exploited to address practical problems.
From this tradition, we derive a multiperspective view of the world. As Bakhtin remarks,
there are aspects of our selves that we cannot know by direct observation: only an outsider
can present us with a view of how we look from behind. Thus, even with a firm positivist
viewpoint, notions of triangulation of research position are necessary to locate evidence
within a descriptive system. More substantially, though, participants, external observers,
and interested parties ('stakeholders' in the current jargon) see different features of the
same event not just because of their different positions, but because of their different
ideologies, or theoretical viewpoints. The process of observation is value-laden, and
consequently different value systems lead to different views of the same phenomena.
Insofar as participants' (including researchers') views of phenomena reflect ideologies which
are shared by individuals' different communities, the 'differing communicative discourses'
tradition intersects with the
24
post-enlightenment conflict depicted by Taylor, for there is potential dispute over the
different 'stories' that observers, participants, and other interested parties will tell, over
which is the most 'authentic', that is, the most useful or applicable.
Similarly, postmodernist theory may draw upon the tradition of the social construction of
knowledge, deriving for linguists from Vygotsky, for sociologists more recently from Berger
and Luckman (1966). Again, it is interaction between the individual mind and the social
structures within which other, differing minds operate that leads us to our individual views
of how reality is.
All this is to question simplistic interpretations of unproblematic knowledge, deductive
assumptions about our capacity to prove particular generalisations for all time, and views of
the objectivity of science. Associated with such interpretations are views of science as a
progressive approximation to the truth, and its association with the inevitable betterment
of the human condition. Although postmodernism may be seen as a pessimistic response to
science's (or indeed to socialism's or marxism's) failure to deliver, Foucault sees the conflict
as a permanent rather than contemporary struggle, present in any historical period,
between a modernist and a postmodernist viewpoint (see Usher and Edwards, 1994:9). The
extreme postmodernist view asserts a relativism about human knowledge, and even about
moral systems, that certainly conflicts with traditional progressivism, but which is politically
appealing in a world in which more and more cultures are in unavoidable political contact
(witness, for example, South-east Asian criticisms of United Nations views of human rights
as being symptoms of western individualism). Even devices that have been seen as
instruments for liberation, such as the establishment of norms for assessment purposes,
are seen as repressive. Foucault remarks that normalising provides for subjects Âa
surveillance that makes it possible to qualify, to classify and to punish', providing 'a visibility
through which one differentiates them and judges them' (1979:184).
One response to the epistemological difficulties inherent in this conflict is to concentrate
on the fragmentation and consumerism of contemporary post-industrial society. According
to Featherstone this is characterised by the view that Âthere is no human nature or true
self. .. the goal of life [is] an endless pursuit of new experiences, values and vocabularies'
(1991:126). Such experiences are, on the one hand, subject to the politics of representation,
'in which consumerism ensures the power of the representative images that provide such
experiences and, on the other, reflect and contribute to a playfulness which is evoked in
opposition to the puritan tradition of conventional science. Parody, irony, punning, become
stylistic weapons in opposition to clarity, directness, and the notion of one meaning at a
time. Sequential thinking is replaced with the simultaneous holding of several strands of
thought, even the simultaneous holding of conflicting positions. Thus postmodernism can
link with other major and minor strands in contemporary culture: opposition to patriarchy
on the grounds of a richer, more imaginative, divergent, empathetic feminist ethos; support
for subjectivity and the validation of subjective experience; distrust of Âexpertise' and the
Âmyth' of disinterestedness, a rhetoric of 'empowerment' for the disempowered in
opposition to a (largely unanalysed) tyranny.
Central to postmodernism (if Âcentrality' is possible in such a devolved discussion!), is
'textuality' language. Because of this, applied linguists unavoidably have to locate
themselves in relation to the critique that postmodernism offers. Language is central partly
because it offers a major means of obfuscation (see e.g. Lacan, 1979:2), so postmodernists
are at pains to draw attention to the status of their writings as texts. This is mainly to
challenge the notion of an unproblematic relationship between a
25
text and what it Ârepresents' - hence the emphasis on parody and irony. There is no simple
relationship between what a text Âsays' and an external Âreality'; indeed the notion of a
truth which 'corresponds' with reality is no more than a function of communication
processes. So a writer who implies omniscience - or indeed any authoritative position - as an
individual writer (and the discourse conventions of academic writing particularly reinforce
this tendency) misleads readers by claiming an authority that no-one can legitimately claim and in a sense the clearer the writing the falser it is. Further, we are not necessarily in
control of language at all. Rather, it is in control of us: we are positioned by the
requirements of the discourse we think we adopt, and our metaphors of adoption hide the
fact that it adopts us. (But is that Âfact' a fact? Postmodernist discourse requires us to put
every word into Âinverted commas' in order to insist on its textuality, providing us with the
paradox of communicating about the impossibility of commmunication - a point I shall
return to later.)
Finally on language, we should note the significance of intertextuality. Linguistic
artefacts cross-refer to other linguistic artefacts, not just in literary studies where the
relationships between such works as The Iliad, The Aeneid and The Divine Comedy have been
acknowledged at least since Aristotle, but in all linguistic behaviour. Not only do jokes relate
to and expand on other jokes, parodies abound, and individuals constantly quote other
texts, but normal speech uses parallelism, assonance and other Âliterary' devices all the time
(Tannen, 1989). Once again, linguistic constructs, including academic genres such as this
one, have to be seen as artefacts responsive to and contributing to the structure of other
linguistic constructs.
How should applied linguistics respond?
So how should applied linguists react to the postmodernist project? Perhaps we should start
by distinguishing a strong from a weak form. The strong form is easy to dismiss, if only
because it cannot have any application and condemns itself to uselessness by a self-defined
irrelevance. If there are no privileged general statements to be made, the general claims on
behalf of the movement have no status, to make a general critique of all general critiques is
to tie oneself into a paradox. If knowledge is merely expression of power relations, the
concept of knowledge becomes redundant, and only power is left (a view that is attractive
to dictatorially inclined politicians resisted by intellectuals). Anyway, what is the status of
the claim that knowledge is merely power? If all viewpoints reveal perspectives which are
no more and no less valid than any other, then viewing, communicating about it, and
understanding become impossible activities to conceive of, and the communication of
postmodernist (or any other) ideas can be no more than a nervous twitch. Such extreme
pessimism about human interaction is dysfunctional at best and quietist to the point of evil
irresponsibility at worst. The total democratisation of epistemological perspective suffers
from the same defect as its political equivalent, the total democratisation of power as in
philosophical anarchism (Woodcock, 1962; Joll, 1979). Both positions have attractive and
antihierarchical features which provide a valuable critique of elitist and potentially
exploitative positions, but by devolving significance to the lowest possible position, they are
vulnerable to the first unbeliever who claims Âhigher' authority - in politics the bully, in
knowledge the charlatan: 'Anarchy can never be hegemonic. Anarchists can occasionally
topple crowns, but never enjoy the results.' (Sassoon, 1996:399) By accepting the weaker
argument that hierarchical models of science risk being self-serving, we are enabled to look
for protection against the misuse of hierarchy, to benefit from a critique which in its strong
form denies the
26
possibility of benefit at all. As Popper argues: 'The proponents of relativism put before us
standards of mutual understanding which are unrealistically high. And when we fail to meet
those standards, they claim that understanding is impossible.' (1994a:334)
The key point for any science is not the impossibility of shared experience, but the
relationship between what can be shared and what cannot. Each of us is both universal and
unique in our culture. We have to account for the ways in which our experience is
triangulated many times over: when we read, let us say, Homer, Virgil or Dante, we share
experiences with other humans who may never read them in the language we read them in,
and who may never live at the same time as us. Yet what Pope or Chapman make of Homer
links with what Robert Fagles has made of The Iliad (Fagles, 1990), and with what Gnedich in
Russia made of it in the 1820s, as well as with Tolstoy's aspirations to epic grandeur in War
and Peace. If there is no universal subject, what happens when we read the classics, or when
we talk to each other at all?
Yet our grounding in culture is also crucial. We cannot treat all philosophical questions as
variants on a single set of deculturised logical premisses. Reading The Iliad after the 20th
century's experience of war is different from reading it in 1910, reading it in Greek is
different from reading it in English, and reading it having read Dante, Virgil or Tolstoy is
different from reading it without. Re-reading differs from reading; every experience is both
new and old, and out of the tension between the two we make our understandings and our
experiences. Exploring how we do this is one of the tasks of applied linguistics.
Constantly concerning ourselves with clarifying what is shared and what is unique about
human experience demands a willingness to problematise and criticise. The first task is
valuably performed by much of the postmodernist critique; the second is inherent in
traditional philosophy of science, particularly in the critical community frameworks of
Popper and Habermas. Popper's late papers provide a number of helpful comments for
applied linguistics - his classic model of research and scholarship, for example, is summarised
in the formula:
P1 - TT - EE -+ P2 (first a problem, then a tentative theory, then criticism or error
elimination, then a second problem emerges and the cycle continues)
The papers published just before his death contain many discussions of applied, social
science and practical investigation. Many of them show that he recognised some of the key
problems faced by embedded activities such as applied linguistics or education. For example,
in a discussion of evolutionary principles underlying behaviour, he makes a crucial distinction
between social tradition and genetic disposition which is a necessary preliminary to
theorising the similarity/difference debate. He writes:
I will speak of a tradition as a behavioural pattern which does not change over a
considerable period of time, although other behavioural patterns or solutions are
available from the point of view of the genetic composition of the organism. And I
will say that a way of behaving has become genetically or hereditarily entrenched if
no other patterns are available - that is, if the type of organism has become
genetically specialised. Specialization may thus be a matter of a tradition that can be
broken, or of a hereditary entrenchment that cannot... (Popper, 1994b:60)
Much material of central interest to applied linguists, for example pedagogic and literary
accounts of practice, beliefs about literacy or reflections on power by members
27
of particular discourse communities, may be seen as traditions in Popper's sense. Similarity
will be found without option in genetic disposition (hence the importance of debates about
Universal Grammar), but will be observable, but negotiable, in the tradition.
In relation to the tradition, though, Popper suggested too much specialisation in science
may become dysfunctional. Criticism and hence understanding is dependent upon
culture conflict, or at least cultural interchange:
... a limited amount of dogmatism is necessary for progress. Without a serious
struggle for survival in which the old theories are tenaciously defended, none of the
competing theories can show their mettle... intolerant dogmatism, however, is one
of the main obstacles to science. (Popper, 1994a:16)
...culture clash may lose some of its great value if one of the clashing cultures
regards itself as universally superior, and even more so if it is so regarded by the
other: this may destroy the greatest value of the culture clash, for the greatest
value of culture clash lies in the fact that it can evoke a critical attitude. (Popper,
1994a:51)
More and more PhD candidates receive merely technical training in certain
techniques of measurement. They are not initiated into the scientific tradition, the
critical tradition of questioning, of being tempted and guided by great and
apparently insoluble riddles rather than by the solubility of little puzzles. True, these
technicians, these specialists, are usually aware of their limitations. They call
themselves 'specialists' and reject any claim to authority outside their specialities.
yet they do so proudly, and proclaim that specialization is a necessity. But this means
flying in the face of the facts, which show that great advances still come from those
with a wide range of interests.
If the many, the specialists, gain the day, it will be the end of science as we know
it of great science. It will be a spiritual catastrophe comparable in its consequences
to nuclear armament. (Popper, 1994a:72)
What applied linguistics needs (and anyway cannot avoid) is a plurality of approaches. At
the same time, this does not entail randomness of approach. Communication between
approaches has to be maintained so that underlying premisses may be seriously
criticised: autonomy is the enemy of progress. For this reason, the tone and substance
of a note on debate by Beretta et al. (1994) in Applied Linguistics is to be regretted:
debate has to start by presuming good faith, otherwise criticism is being avoided rather
than responded to. Similarly, criticisms of 'critical' approaches (e.g., Widdowson,1995;
Hammersley, 1996) need to be treated with respect particularly by those who most
disagree with them. As Rampton suggests, 'one does not have to believe in an
autonomous voice of reason or in the transmogrifying power of supposedly contextfree research procedures to be critical of inconsistency, a disregard for evidence, and
ignorance about alternative accounts.' (1995:249) What one does have to have - and
what applied linguistics crucially needs - is a recognition of difference within a context
of similarity, of alternative views that never completely identify with others, but which
critique them through our willingness to address similar (but not usually identical)
questions while remaining in communication with
28
each other.
Finally, I shall return to my original attempt at definition: the theoretical and empirical
investigation of real-world problems in which language is a central issue. ÂTheoretical and empirical'
require the same procedures and conceptualisations as any other science, pure or applied, but
these will constantly and unavoidably change as human knowledge changes. 'Real-world problems'
are investigated partly as a counterweight to the disconnection of autonomous and idealised
disciplines (though recognising that any theoretical and empirical study involves principled
idealisation), and partly because serious and as far as possible disinterested efforts to understand
are particularly crucial in activities that have been defined by politicians, administrators, and
practitioners. The interplay between similarity (by connection with other contemporary research,
historical awareness, and generalisation) and difference (by groundedness, by reflexivity, by action,
or participant research) is central to real-world problems. 'Language as a central issue' ensures
enough overlap with other work to enable communication, criticism and hence improvement to
take place, and enough connection with a well-established autonomous discipline for the
interplay between linguistic and applied linguistic theory to be potentially fruitful for both. But
the interplay is never exclusively with linguistic theory. Psychological, sociological, pedagogical,
economic, and political theories may also be subject to critique from applied linguistic
perspectives and, as we have seen, they will themselves lead us to question our own traditions.
Acknowledgement
Part of this paper was delivered to the South African Applied Linguistics Annual Conference in July
1996. I am grateful to Rosamond Mitchell, and to a number of participants at that conference, for discussion of
ideas presented in this version.
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31
Applied linguistics within a principled framework for characterizing
disciplines and transdisciplines 1
Lars Sigfred Evensen
University of Trondheim
Abstract
For achieving a deeper understanding of the interdisciplinary nature of applied linguistics, a
principled, but independent framework for characterizing disciplines is needed. Within such
a framework it may be shown that the interdisciplinary nature of applied linguistics derives
from the combined nature of its primary research object (communication problems) and
research aims (solve problems or improve institutionalized solutions).
Introduction - background to a symposium
The theme of AILA 1996 was applied linguistics across disciplines. This theme raises two
fundamental issues. First: why is it that applied linguistics is so multidisciplinary? Or, to put
this issue differently: which fundamental characteristics does this multidisciplinary nature
reflect? And second: are we practising within a multidisciplinary field (in the most strict
sense of the terms Âmultidisciplinary'), or are we taking part in the development of an
emerging transdiscipline (non-technically speaking, a science of its own)? If so, which are
the characteristics of this particular transdiscipline?
The issue of defining the nature of applied linguistics has been raised at every AILA
Congress so far, and apart from that, has resulted in a considerable number of books and
articles over several decades. Still, the issue remains largely unsettled. I suspect that
there are at least three reasons for this state of affairs:
1. The theory of science issues involved (why, for instance, is there no such thing as
an armchair applied linguist?) have been relatively superficially addressed.
2. The issue has often been approached from a linguistic (from without) rather
than an applied linguistic (from within) perspective. The effect of such an
intellectual strategy may be illustrated by a metaphor. If you investigate pears
in terms of their 'appleness', your pears may make sense but still remain queer,
somehow.
3. Individual contributions have not been properly synthesized.
32
One central goal of the AILA 1996 symposium on the nature of applied linguistics was to
face the challenges implied by these three reasons. A second goal was to contribute
to a better principled basis for self-understanding within applied linguistics. In order to
reach these goals, we need an intellectual framework which can provide a) a solid
platform for discussing many kinds of sciences/ disciplines/ subdisciplines in relation to
each other, and b) a system for sorting out earlier contributions to the discussion.
In this article, I want to present a tentative system for classifying and characterizing
disciplines or sciences within an independent theory of science approach. My
presentation has two steps - a first step where I simply introduce three broad categories
and a second step where I sub-divide each of the three broad categories into more
specific, annotated analytical dimensions. During the second step of my presentation, I
shall refer briefly to earlier discussion, in order to show how the framework may be
used to synthesize different contributions. I shall then comment specifically on two
aspects of the classification system which may in combination define core
characteristics of applied linguistics. Toward the end of the article I shall illustrate the
effect of the proposed framework by presenting the kind of picture we get of the
relation between general/theoretical linguistics and applied linguistics. This issue has been
at the heart of the debate so far.
Toward a framework for characterizing disciplines
At the 1984 AILA Congress, Stig Eliasson made the fundamental point that, Âany serious
attempt at understanding what applied linguistics is, will ... force us to scrutinize the
latent organizational principles that underlie linguistic science as a whole.' (Eliasson,
1987:21) I wholeheartedly agree with part of Eliasson's claim (i.e. Âscrutinize the latent
organizational principles'), but find the expression 'linguistic science as a whole'
problematic in that it presupposes an answer to the question. If Eliasson was right in
assuming that applied linguistics is a sub-discipline of linguistics, an independent
framework for characterizing disciplines ought to show that this is so, and how it is so. Our
framework and our discussion should hence not build the answer into our question.
Eliasson (1987) proposes two basic dimensions for his discussion: 'facets of subject
matter' and 'mode of inquiry', which together may explain a third dimension of
methodology. Within a general theory of science tradition, it will be noted that these
important dimensions all fall under the umbrella of epistemology (philosophy of
knowledge), that branch of theory of science which is dealing with issues of how we
may get at valid insight. Other aspects of theory of science, however, are left out of
Eliasson's thought-provoking account. One important field within theory of science is
history of science, which tries to account for how sciences arise, develop, diversify, or
merge. A second field is sociology of knowledge, which tries to account for how the
social organization of an intellectual inquiry affects the content and direction of the inquiry
itself. Our attempts at sorting out the different issues of defining a discipline should hence
at least be based on three kinds of considerations:
i) epistemology
ii) history of science
iii) sociology of knowledge
Epistemology 'Epistemology', 'history of science', and 'sociology of knowledge' are very
broad labels, each of them hiding important sub-issues. In order to arrive at a more
33
workable framework, we hence need to specify each label. The first label - epistemology should comprise a sub-category which may capture the basic intellectual motivation for
trying to develop insight in a field in the first place, one aspect of Eliasson's 'mode of
inquiry' (1987:22f.). Following Habermas (1969) I shall use the term Âknowledge interest'
for this sub-category (even if the term will be used here in a looser and less ideological
sense). This sub-category is extremely important in that it is traditionally used to
distinguish between general research and applied research, and I shall return to it in
section 3 below.
In addition, we need Eliasson's proposed categories for subject matter (defining the
object of our research) and methodology (how we go about trying to develop new
insight). Furthermore, we need a category about our theoretical platform, the aspect of
Eliasson's Âmode of inquiry' which he himself focuses on. Much of the earlier debate about
applied linguistics has focused on the role of theory and the issue of direction of
theoretical influence between theoretical and applied linguistics (see e.g., Corder, 1974;
Widdowson, 1984; Tomic and Shuy, 1987 and van Lier, 1994 for different views).
Understanding the role of theory in applied research is a challenging task (see
below). So far the discussions have mainly been in terms of the content of specific theories
(Eliasson, 1987, is an expanded example of this). What we lack is a discussion around
different kinds of theories. Early attempts to bring this issue into the question are
Widdowson (1984) and Bugarsky (1987). More recent attempts are Lier (1994) and
Lantolf (1996).
Turning to the issue of directionality of influence between practice and theory, it is
relatively easy to demonstrate that applied concerns have led to important theoretical
insights:
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
sociolinguistics partially developed as a 'by-product' of investigating reading
failure among black adolescents (Evensen, 1987)
the concept of 'communicative competence' developed out of work with
'deviant' child language acquisition (Hymes's own claim, see Evensen, 1987)
concepts of interlanguage and fossilization (Selinker, 1972)
competing theories of SLA (Applied Linguistics 14,3; Lier, 1994; Lantolf, 1996)
Swales's genre model of academic writing (Swales, 1990)
the operationalization and sophistication of 'communicative competence' carried
out by Bachman and others in language testing (see Bachman, 1990)
critiques of shortcomings in Âreceived' pragmatic/linguistic theory on the basis of
applied research (e.g. Shuy's 1987 critique of speech act theory on the basis of
applied forensic research)
The tricky part is to decide whether such theoretical contributions have much in
common. Widdowson (1984) argued that theoretical work in applied linguistics tends to
take a participant's perspective where linguistic theorizing takes an observer's
perspective. It is not clear, however, in which sense this distinction moves beyond the age
old -emit/-etic distinction in structural linguistics. Similarly, Shuy (1987) and Strevens
(1992) have called for more of a 'constructivist' or 'constructionist' approach. It is not
clear, however, how this call relates specifically to applied linguistics and linguistics
when uttered in a generally post-structuralist intellectual climate (see Brumfit, 1996, this
volume).
It seems that there is a tradition for theoretical reductionism (the quest for
34
minimal/elegant theories) in general linguistics which is less strong in applied linguistics (but
see Lier, 1994). The debate over Krashen's Monitor model, for instance, seemed to imply a
scepticism toward too simplistic models (see Spolsky, 1985; McLaughlin, 1987) Much of, for
example, Widdowson's theoretical work (1984, 1990) may be read as an opposition to both
reductionism and eclecticism. Similarly, there seems to be a current quest for models that
may reach ecological validity, in the sense that they may account for the complex
interplay between complex phenomena (Strevens, 1992; van Lier, 1994; Davis, 1995; Lantolf,
1996).
The methodology of applied linguistics seems to be a hybrid phenomenon, where
contrastive analysis, error analysis and performance analysis traditions are all close to
descriptive linguistics. With an increasing methodological diversity, we need, however, to
consider more fundamental issues of methodology. It is well known, for instance, that
theoretical linguistics is dominated by a Popperian tradition of falsification. This is obviously
not the case to the same extent in applied linguistics, but what is the alternative? We
have a very strong empiricist tradition (e.g. in teaching methods - learning effects
studies), but is this an inductive empiricism like the Weberian tradition in sociology?
In 1987, Shuy argued the need to consider an alternative, abductive approach.
Abductive thinking (a term originating from philosopher/semiotician Charles Sanders
Peirce) focuses on establishing bold hypotheses that may make Âstrange' empirical
observation look obvious. According to Peirce, this is the only approach that may yield
qualitatively new insight. Abductive thinking is hence related to falsification in that the
development of theory is related boldly to interpretation (but abductive thinking yields
so-called Âgrounded' theory, which deduction can never yield, cf. Davis, 1995). It is the
same time related to inductive thinking in its intellectual openness. Abductive thinking
differs from deductive thinking in its emphasis on empirical observation rather than
speculative conjecture (Popper's term) in accounting for the development of
hypotheses. It differs from induction in its boldness - its willingness to jump to
(tentative) conclusions, so to speak, with post hoc scrutiny.
Part of the appeal in Shuy's suggestion lies in its explanatory power. If deductive
thinking is characteristic of general linguistics and abductive thinking
characteristic of applied linguistics, we may easily explain why there is no such thing as
an armchair applied linguist, whereas the armchair linguist is a commonplace (note the
abductive thinking exemplified in the conditional construction here). Still, we may
question the content validity of Shuy's claim for today's applied linguistics, even if Davis
(1995) and others have called for qualitative methodologies. The absence of armchair
applied linguistics may also be ascribed to simple inductive empiricism.
History of science In order to discuss history of science, we need to take into account the
stage of development of a field (cf. e.g. Kuhn's 1962 terms Âpre-paradigmatic' and
Âparadigmatic'). When a field is new, exploratory work is important, for example, in order to
arrive at useful categories/terminologies (Hellevik, 1977). At this Âexploratory' stage,
the question of data is of secondary importance. It is not uncommon, however, to
circumvent the problems inherent at this stage by a (quasi-) strategy of borrowing from
already established disciplines. Early applied linguistics seems to have been founded on
such a strategy (borrowing from structural linguistics and behaviourist psychology), and
this strategy may itself explain the level of confusion that has been so remarkably
persistent in later discussion on the nature of
35
applied linguistics.
At the next pre-paradigmatic stage of historical development, the generality of
proposed categories/taxonomies becomes important, and descriptive empirical work may
take over (Hellevik, 1977). The empiricism of Âmainstream' applied linguistics may be
interpreted as a symptom of its belonging to this stage. At this Âdescriptive' stage,
issues of data become central as the content validity of categories is tested out. At a
third, paradigmatic stage, the further development of existing theory becomes focal.
Again, the issues of data becomes secondary in importance. At the third, Âanalytical'
stage, a field or discipline is regarded as well-established, both internally and externally.
General linguistics seems to be a case in point.
Related to the notion of stages is the issue of diversification. As a discipline
develops toward paradigmatic status, it may also become diversified. The history of
applied linguistics seems to exemplify such diversification processes. By the mid60s a seemingly consolidated consensus about the centrality of linguistics was challenged
from several sources (see Evensen, 1986, 1987; Brumfit, 1996). The most radical alternative
was suggested by Fraser and O'Donnell:
Applied Linguistics is in essence a problem-centred discipline. It starts, that is, by
asking not how this or that insight into language might be employed, but rather
how this or that practical language problem might be solved, whether the
theoretical answers are ready at hand or not. (Fraser and O'Donnell, 1969:xi)
This quote is no less than an embryonic program for applied linguistics as a separate
science. Granted that the older approach, which Widdowson (1980) terms Âlinguistics
applied', still lingers on, the 1960s ended with a situation where applied linguistics should
be interpreted in the plural (cf. Sridhar, 1993). This plurality has contributed to the
confusion within applied linguistics.
A second important aspect of the history of science is the intellectual meta-history of
specific disciplines: how has a discipline's view of its relation to other disciplines developed?
In applied linguistics, this issue has traditionally been formulated as a discussion about
Âdirectionality of influence' in relation to linguistic theory (see e.g. Corder, 1974). Is the
direction of influence going from theory to application, or is the relationship a dialectical
one? A consensus on this issue seems to have been reached by the mid-80s (see
Widdowson, 1980, 1990; Tomic and Shuy, 1987), favouring the dialectical view.
Sociology of knowledge When Strevens (1980) defined applied linguistics simply as, Âwhat
applied linguists do', he earned considerable ridicule. This sociological aspect is not,
however, as trivial as it may first seem. ÂWho does it with whom' does in fact
influence both what is being done and how it is being done. More specifically, sociology
of knowledge deals with professional perspectives and identities in relation to
organizational and discoursal, institutionalization. This part of the framework should hence
comprise a sub-category about which role in the wider research community the applied
linguist sees for him/herself. Earlier discussions (see Evensen, 1986, 1987; Brumfit, 1996) have
evaluated a consumer role, a mediator role (Eliasson, 1987) and a primary contributor role
(Shuy, 1987; Ferguson, 1989).
Sociology of knowledge is also concerned with the organizational structure of
intellectual inquiry. Our framework should hence consider the influence of department
structure, professional organizations like AILA, professional journals,
36
systems of conferences and professional networks of different kinds.
The most obvious aspect is also the most conspicuously absent so far. Professional
identities and organizational structures influence discourse practices. If it proves to be the
case that applied linguists have discourse practices that are similar to linguists'
practices, or different from those, this relation will shed light on the status of applied
linguistics as sub-discipline or discipline on its own. So far, Dos Santos (1996) and a few
other researchers seem to be rare birds in investigating the discourse practices of
applied linguists.
The above considerations in sum lead to the tentative framework presented (below).
Epistemology - which kind of knowledge is gained how
primary knowledge interest
primary research object
theoretical framework
methodological tradition
History of science - where we came from /how we got here
stage of development
meta-issues
Sociology of knowledge - who does what with whom, and how
role concept
institutionalization
discourse practices
Back to epistemology: comments on two basic points
The full discussion. of the points (above) falls beyond the scope of any single paper.' In
this paper I shall restrict myself to discussing the first two epistemological subcategories.
As will become apparent below, these two categories have been central in discussions
about other disciplines and seem central to understanding the multidisciplinary or
transdisciplinary nature of applied linguistics.
Primary research interest If we ask what kind of knowledge is searched for within applied
linguistics, we will have to consider first what I have termed its primary knowledge
interest. It is:
to understand?
to explain? or
to solve problems/improve on existing solutions?
The first two sub-categories are traditionally used in philosophy of science (e.g. by Dilthey
1983) as a major criterion for distinguishing between interpretive human
sciences/arts and explanatory natural sciences (see also van Lier, 1994:334f.). The
category of knowledge interest is also traditionally used to distinguish between general
research and applied research. In this case the first two categories are used to
characterize different forms of general research (arts versus sciences - including linguistics
as programmatically a natural science), whereas the third is used to characterize
applied research (i.e., research carried out in order to solve problems in society, or improve
on already institutionalized solutions to socially acknowledged problems - e.g. through
education, through technology, or through therapy).
37
Much of the confusion in earlier discussion about the nature of applied linguistics (what
has been termed Âthe misnomer syndrome') may be interpreted as a call for a more
fundamental understanding of the general relation between Âpure' and Âapplied' research
(cf. similar relations between natural science and technology, the relation between biology
and medicine, or even the relation between psychology and pedagogy). The criterion
proposed above may form a fruitful basis for such an understanding. In the
Introduction to Grabe and Kaplan (1992) the editors refer to Streven's problem orientation
as a matter of opinion. This implied criticism seems to miss the above point. The above
criterion for defining applied research is used internationally across sciences, and
adopted by, for example, The Norwegian Research Council.
Primary research object The second epistemological category is a logical corollary to the
first one (your primary research interest has important consequences for how you
conceptualize/ define/ approach your research object), but adds important specificity.
We may first make a distinction between linguistic code and verbal conmiunication. The
latter is an extensionally wider term, obviating mental, social and cultural phenomena. This
extensional difference may explain the fondness many applied linguists have for
different forms of 'hyphenated linguistics' (which all tend to minimize the difference
between language and verbal communication is at the core of the research interest in
applied linguistics. This implies a specification slightly different from Strevens' (1992) and
Brumfit's (1991, 1996) term Âlanguage related problems', which they both use in their
definitions of applied linguistics.
We also need to consider the notion of Âproblem' (i.e., the discrepancy between
values/ aims/ goals and current states of affairs/available resources) in relation to
language or verbal communication. Communication problems have language related
components as one central defining characteristic (which explains the principled relation
between general linguistics and applied linguistics). At the same time they also have other
components, components that are traditionally being studied in disciplines like psychology,
sociology, anthropology, and medicine. Their principled solution, including improvements of
already existing solutions, further requires insights typically developed in disciplines like
pedagogy, computer science, and a range of technologies.
This epistemological category may hence explain the interdisciplinary nature of
applied linguistics and its relation to linguistics simultaneously.
Toward testing the framework
As an illustration of what the proposed framework may lead to, let me try to compare
general linguistics and applied linguistics, and see what kind of picture we may end up with.
Summarizing the arguments presented so far, a comparison may look like the tentative
picture of Figure 1 (below).
The resulting picture is one of applied linguistics gradually emerging as a separate science
of its own, but with both principled and historical links to general linguistics as its 'pet
sister' (the occasional family quarrel including). The validity of such a tentative picture
remains to be discussed (see below).
38
Figure 1 General and applied linguistics compared
General
Applied
explain
code/structure/
code function
systems theory
reductionism
solve/improve
comm. problems/
solutions
systems theory/
ecological valid.
grounded theory
in-/abductive
empirical (-cist)
Epistemology
primary knowledge interest
primary research object
theoretical framework
methodological tradition
deductive
constructed data
History of science
stage of development
analytical
meta issues
theory
orientation
descriptive/
analytical
problem
orientation
Sociology of knowledge
role conception
institutionalization
department structure
professional organizations
journals
conferences
discourse practices
contributor
mediator/
contributor
mixed picture
partly separate
largely separate
partly separate
to be investigated
PrePre-script? Applied linguistics into the future
The framework suggested in this article implies a call for future contemplation and
research. We still have a long way to go as a discipline before clear answers to all the
different issues and sub-issues have been developed. In this final section, I shall only hint
at some of the more hazy issues at the moment.
The degree to which applied linguistics is developing into a 'transdiscipline' (a
discipline crossing traditional disciplines with a program of its own) may be tested by how it
approaches insight reached within those neighbouring disciplines. Has applied linguistics
developed its own tradition in dealing with phenomena that are also investigated by
psychologists, sociologists, anthropologists, educationalists, and so on, or is it mainly
importing and reconfiguring insights from other relevant disciplines? There is a consensus
that the applied linguist is no longer simply a consumer of linguistic theories, but what
about theories from other disciplines?
In my presentation of theory, I claimed that there is a strategy of reductionism in
general linguistics. This strategy does not seem to be entirely characteristic of recent
work in applied linguistic. But what is the opposite, if there is a coherent one? This is at
present far from clear. What does seem clear is that simple expansionism is not what we
are searching for. Applied linguists working toward the end of a century seem to
39
be searching for theories that may account for both the interplay between communicationderived phenomena and the contextual embeddedness of this interplay, in other words
theories that are ecologically valid in a sense that linguistic theories are typically not (Lier,
1994). Hymes' notion of communicative competence may be an early exemplar of this
search. The general concern in applied linguistics with interdisciplinary issues (the theme
of AILA 1996) is a more recent example. An alternative formulation should hence try to
capture some of the holistic neohumanistic flavour of much recent research in applied
linguistics (which is what Shuy, 1987, and Strevens, 1992, may have had in mind with
their calls for more of a constructivist/constructionist approach).
Related to this issue is the role of abductive thinking as a possible research strategy. The
empirical/empiricist part of our methodological heritage may be both understood and
evaluated on the basis of Weber's programme for establishing a humanist sociology. He
advised the early sociologists to work toward delimiting the scope of reasonable
interpretations through correlational methods. Through this purely inductive strategy it
was hoped that theory would eventually emerge. The problem with the approach, in
retrospect, is that theory did not to any significant extent emerge from it. Sociology did
not become a humanist discipline, either.
The early empirical tradition in applied linguistics seems closely related to the empiricism
of sociology. Today, however, there is growing scepticism toward blindly collecting more
empirical data, and a growing readiness for developing theoretical models (cf. e.g., Spolsky,
1985, 1989). But on which principled basis, if not on reductionism? Shuy's (1987) call for
abductive thinking should be read as a fruitful challenge at this point, but not as a
description of the way things actually are. Is such a description of the way things are possible,
or is applied linguistics still largely at a pretheoretical stage in terms of a theoretical
platform Âof its own'?
The tentative comparison between general and applied linguistics presented in Figure 1 is
based on the assumption that problem orientation has gradually replaced theory
orientation as the dominant approach in applied linguistics. In this sense the presentation
implies a considerable measure of historical idealization, which should invite critical
investigation into the complexities of the present stage in our history (cf. Sridhar, 1993).
Furthermore, there is a fundamental dialectic between applied and basic research which
still remains to be properly understood. In this dialectic, basic research traditions sometimes
develop out of applied traditions (as when biology developed out of medicine). Second
language acquisition research may be a case in point. In order to achieve a solid research
basis for second language teaching (the solution to be improved), the field acknowledged
the need to know how second language proficiency is achieved and develops. After
almost 30 years of second language acquisition research, it seems clear that some of the
researchers involved today are working to develop the field as a basic research discipline of
its own, and not primarily as a part of applied linguistics (cf. e.g., the discussion referred to
in Lier, 1994 and Lantolf, 1996). From a history of science point of view, this observation is
an indication that the process of diversification has reached a point where subfields
of applied linguistics may in fact be moving out of the discipline even before it is firmly
established.
This example also clearly shows that it is more than a trivial issue to search for the
fundamental characteristics of applied linguistics. Perhaps it is time to borrow the
linguist's armchair for a while.
40
Notes
1
2
This article is based on the introductory presentation to the 1996 AILA symposium: Fundamental
Characteristics of Applied Linguistics: toward a deeper understanding of an emerging transdiscipline.
An early attempt at a more comprehensive synthesizing discussion paper was pre-circulated before
the AILA 1996 symposium to Lyle Bachman, Christopher Brumfit, Alan Davies, Kathryn Davis, Stig
Eliasson, Robert Kaplan, Claire Kramsch, Anna Mauranen, David Nunan, Larry Selinker, Roger Shuy, S.N.
Sridhar, John Swales, and Henry Widdowson.The circulated manuscript will be developed into one or
more separate publications.
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42
The role of literature in foreign language
learning and teaching: some valid assumptions
and invalid arguments1
Willis Edmondson
Hamburg University
Abstract
There are two issues on which I want to take a negative stand in this paper. One is a
teaching strategy whereby the systematic and extensive handling of literary texts is
pursued in courses which are in fact designed to teach foreign/second language skills and
proficiency. The second issue is the claim that literary texts have, in some sense, a special
role to play in the foreign language classroom - not in their own right (though this might
well be seen as an additional bonus), but as a means of developing language competence.
Introduction
The first issue outlined (above) is one of curriculum design involving the use of L2 literature;
the second issue is rather one of theoretical support for the use of literature in this or
indeed other ways. The two issues of curriculum inclusion and theoretical justification are
not necessarily directly related - it is for example by no means necessarily the case that
those who argue that literature has a special role to play in the business of language
learning would wish to encourage an extensive and systematic schooling in the foreignlanguage literature or aspects thereof. However, the two perspectives are of course
related, as a negative stance regarding the second point would appear to lead to a negative
view of the practices associated with the first.
I start by presenting some empirical observations concerning how the role of literature in
foreign-language teaching appears in practice.
Observation 1 In working on subjective learning theories, I have collected many written
foreign-language learning autobiographies from incoming students of applied linguistics at
the university of Hamburg. The students are asked to say what has influenced their own
language learning positively or negatively. In the 143 such documents analysed to date (see
Edmondson, 1996), literature in the target language is mentioned only six times. Of these
six references, only one is positive. By way of contrast, English pop and rock music is
mentioned 25 times, and in each case positively. All these students have had extensive
exposure to at least two foreign ' languages, and considerable doses of foreign language
literary texts inside the German 3 school system.
43
Observation 2 Akyel and Yalcin (1990) report on the views of 22 teachers of English in
senior high schools in Turkey, in which there is maths and science teaching with English as
the medium of instruction. For 19 of these teachers, the major objectives of the teaching
of English in their schools were exclusively literary - there is no mention of the development
of language skills or competence, but references to cultural awareness, knowledge of the
classics of literature, stimulation of the creative imagination, and the educational
experience of English literature - these are the goals reiterated.
Observation 3 Hermes (1995) reports on a project in which she had her first-term students
of English in Koblenz keep 'learning logs'. She justifies this undertaking by describing the
norm for these students as follows:
Their approach to literature varies. Mostly, they expect questions from the teacher,
to which they will offer well-intentioned answers. At the same time, they expect to
get the right interpretation from the teacher, and this interpretation they will then
adopt.
In the university classes, they are mostly passive if English is used as the medium of
communication. There is, however, always a small, active group (consisting mostly of
students who have stayed a year or more in an English speaking country), while the
rest huddle in silence. (Hermes, 1995)
These learners are the products of at least eight years school learning of English; have
moreover decided to study English, and presumably bring to this task some cognitive or
other skills which distinguish them to some extent from the mass of educational consumers
in school.
Interestingly enough, reporting on these learning logs, the author points to positive
effects in terms of self-confidence and self-awareness resulting from the documentary task
itself, and then makes the following point:
The students distinguish clearly between literary texts they can understand, and
literary texts they have have difficulty understanding. The former are enjoyed, but a
discussion of them is seen to be unnecessary, while more Âdifficult' tests are viewed
skeptically: the students seem not to know why they are required to read them.
(Hermes, 1995)
Observation 4 Kranz (1995) reports on the results of Norbert Benz's dissertation, in which an
extensive questionnaire concerning the treatment of English literature in English lessons
and the treatment of German literature in German lessons was distributed to both school
and university students in Germany. The focus in the questionnaire was on the pedagogic
strategies used in L1 and in L2 literary lessons. The major finding is that the didactic profiles
for L1 and L2 literature classes are practically identical. This can be taken to indicate that
English literature was handled more as literature than as English in English lessons. Thus, for
example, for both English and German, over 65 per cent of all those asked claimed that they
had never been exposed to the rewriting or reformulation of literature excerpts. The only
major difference between handling German literature and handling English literature was
that the elucidation of unknown terms was characterised as taking place Âoften' for English
by 95 per cent of those asked, while the corresponding figure for German was circa 50 per
cent. (Incidentally, it is interesting that the figure for English was higher
44
for the university students than for school learners).
Observation 5 Since circa 1980 an orientation has developed in German called Intercultural
German Studies (see e.g. Wierlacher, 1987, 1989). This orientation has led to the
establishment of a specific course of university studies, a specific research programme, and
views itself as the framework for the organisation of German as a foreign language both
inside and outside Germany. Briefly, Intercultural German Studies has German literature at
its core, and aspires to sensitise learners of German in the so-called Âthird world' to their
own and German cultural values: this sensitization comes about via discussion and teaching
in German - and this appears to be the major function of the language component in such
an intercultural course of studies.
These few reports suggest that the tensions between teaching the language and
teaching the literature which persons of my generation thought had been resolved 30 years
ago are still apparently going strong (further evidence is supplied by the varied views
adopted in the sections in Quirk and Widdowson, 1985, dealing with English literature). It
would seem then that there is still a need to address this most complex of issues. The few
observations made above point to a situation of some confusion regarding the use of
literature in foreign-language classrooms. In saying this, I am not, of course, seeking to
suggest that a global uniformity regarding the use of foreign language literary texts should
obtain. I am, however, suggesting that in order to develop and justify a particular
curriculum and/or a particular teaching strategy in local circumstances, we need conceptual
clarity regarding which role or roles foreign language literature can or should play in these
undertakings.
Goals
I propose then to address these basic questions: does literature have something special to
offer the language learner and therefore the language teacher? What justifies the inclusion
of literary components in language teaching programs? Before trying to answer, it is a
useful exercise to ask how one might go about doing so. Critically, can the issue be decided
empirically? I do not think so. In fact, I know of no study which has attempted to show that
handling literary texts in the classroom or indeed as reading material outside the classroom
leads in some sense to increased or better acquisition and/or learning than treating other,
non-literary texts in similar ways or circumstances. Moreover, such a research goal would, I
suggest, be misplaced. It is, I believe, generally accepted nowadays that the methods
comparison paradigm was and is a false and unprofitable line of research enquiry (see e.g.
Stern, 1983). It was a wrong strategy essentially because a Âmethod' was isolated from its
contextual embedding, and the attempt was made to assess its effectiveness
independently of the learners and teachers using it. If, then that research paradigm is not
viable, how might one hope to design a research project seeking to assess empirically the
impact of a particular type or genre of didactic text?
It seems to me then that we are probably going to rely on logical and/or theoretical
argumentation, together with of course learning and teaching experience, in discussing the
relevance of literary texts. Doubtless some empirical evidence may be indirectly relevant for example, studies suggesting that large doses of free reading in L2 lead to significant
gains in competence, both lexically and - in some studies at least - in terms of morphosyntactic control. But essentially the issue I am concerned with has not been seriously
investigated empirically.
45
The issue of research methodology is important, because if our beliefs about the value of
literature are not subject to empirical refutation or confirmation'-, then we need to ask
ourselves, it seems to me, where they come from, and how far we are open to the
possibility that these beliefs are in fact wrong. My position in this paper is that the question
as to the specific advantages of using literary texts is the wrong question, simply because a
matching between textual features and learning effects is highly improbable, and certainly
not subject to empirical investigation at this point in time. My central thesis is then, that
the question: literary texts in foreign/second language classes - yes or no? is essentially
irrelevant to the quality of the learning that takes place in such settings. In other words and I'm trying to be a little controversial in my formulation here - literary texts have no
special status as regards their relevance to and utility for the business of achieving
proficiency or general competence in an L2. I will call this thesis the non-essentialist position.
The name is intended to suggest that other things being equal, it is certainly not essential
to handle literature in the interests of developing adequate L2 proficiency, and suggests
further that as regards their potential use in teaching programs, literary texts have no
Âessence' that distinguishes then from other types of text.
I propose to proceed as follows in seeking to establish and expand the non-essentialist
thesis. Firstly I want to try and clear the ground by removing what I see as potential
obstacles to our discussion. I shall therefore list four truisms or presuppositions, which may
help narrow down the question to be addressed. Then I shall consider all the arguments for
literature I am familiar with that are inconsistent with the non-essentialist position. I have
found six such arguments. After examining them, I conclude that none of them justifies an
essentialist stance. I shall take it then that if an essentialist position cannot be grounded,
the non-essentialist position holds.
Four assumptions
There are four presuppositions I want to spell out. The necessity of such pedantry derives
from the fact that various different issues are sometimes conflated or indeed confused
when the use of literature in the foreign-language classroom is discussed.
Assumption 1 - the term Âliterature' is a value term What do we mean by literature? There is
no satisfactory definition that has general acceptance, and which is at the same time
operational. To the best of my knowledge, nobody would seriously dispute this claim (cf. e.g.
Lott, 1985:2-3). On the other hand, we all on some level Âknow', I suggest, what literature is,
even if we are not in a position to offer a watertight definition and even if we disagree in a
particular case. I assume, in saying this, that for the purposes of this discussion we are
talking about written texts which have a certain aesthetic value and some perceived status
in the culture of which they are artefacts. I put forward this formulation as an orientation,
not as a watertight definition. I assume then, on this formulation that the term literature is
here used as a value term. I reject therefore inside the confines of this paper attempts to
broaden the concept of literature, such that the term covers, for example, cartoons,
Asterix, graffiti, or the lyrics of Michael Jackson. Indeed some people go even further and
understand under the term Âliterature' any text whatsoever, spoken or written.
I reject such interpretations for the rather obvious reason that the discussion as to the
value of literature in foreign-language teaching and learning becomes pointless, if the term
literature is extended ad infinitum. The claim that, for example, written language has a
useful place in most language teaching courses is absolutely trivial.
46
Similarly, subjective or reception-based definitions will invalidate our concerns in this paper.
In other words, if any text is deemed to be potentially 'literary', whether it is or not being
determined by the way it is received, or by the way it is treated, then the issue this paper
addresses becomes a non-issue. One should also avoid the circular argumentation whereby
any text that is thought to be particularly valuable pedagogically or any text that can be
used to encourage creative writing or creative reading in L2 is, by virtue of that fact,
claimed to have literary merit.
Assumption 2 - at issue is the value of literature for language learning, and not the value of
literature per se In asking whether literature has a special role to play, we are concerned
with its role in foreign/second language learning/acquisition; and not its possible
importance in some other practical or educational domain. The assumption that foreignlanguage courses have at least two components - language and literature - is not being
adopted here. Clearly, there may be good reasons for handling foreign literature on its own
merits for particular addressees inside some educational or training courses. The same
holds, of course, for the history, geography, the economics, or the architecture of other
countries too. But this is not the point at issue here.
Nor is it enough for our purposes to argue or show that - given that literature is on the
timetable - it can be exploited in potentially interesting ways for the purposes of language
learning. The fact that you can, as it were, smuggle a bit of language learning into your
teaching of literature is not a justification for literature being there in the first place. Many
authors, both applied linguists and teachers, continue however so to argue (see e.g., the
editorial and relevant articles published in Die Neueren Sprachen 86,3:4 [1987] and the
English Language Teaching Journal 44,3 [1990]). This type of argumentation was essentially
that employed by those who were in favour of retaining Latin for all or a majority of school
learners in Europe - one showed or claimed that the teaching of Latin had some
educationally desirable side-effects such as a training in logical analysis, or that it had a
facilitation effect vis ä vis some modern languages.
Assumption 3 - language is language It is not the case that language, as the topic, content,
and goal of foreign-language teaching programmes is necessarily reduced, retailored or
redefined for this purpose. That the language of the foreign-language classroom often has
its own particular features is of course true, and that texts prepared for pedagogic
purposes may exhibit untypical textual and linguistic features is also true. Whether and to
what extent which kinds of modification are conducive to language development in the
classroom is of course a matter of debate, and more importantly a matter of empirical
enquiry (cf. e.g. Ellis, 1994:573-608). But language is language, and the characterisation of
foreign-language classroom discourse (often with an adjective such as Âtraditional' or
Âconventional' added) as some type of pedagogic pidgin is totally unwarranted. Of course
there is a place for creativity in foreign-language teaching and learning, and arguably also a
place for texts that exhibit unusual cultural and linguistic features. Surely we all accept this.
What I believe we do not have to accept is that without literary texts, classroom language is
doomed to sterility.
Assumption 4 - it's the treatment, not the text It is clearly not the case that all foreign
literature is by definition valuable for the purposes of foreign-language learning. I take it
that nobody would accept a syllogism of the following form:
47
X is an established and valuable piece of literature, written in language L A is seeking
to learn/acquire language L Therefore X will be good for A to this end
There is plenty of anecdotal evidence and indeed documented historical record to show
that the use of literature in the foreign-language classroom can fail to further language
learning and can in fact be highly demotivating, or at best irrelevant. Indeed, practically
every apologist for literature starts by seeking, as it were, to atone for the sins of the past
- thus Henry Widdowson, for example, has at various times taken up arms against those who
have abused or misused literature in different ways (see e.g. Widdowson, 1985). This must
mean then that as regards the use of texts for treatment in foreign-language classrooms, it
is certainly not only what you use, but the way that you use it that counts. If then we
accept that it is the treatment which counts, and not only the text, then the claim that
literary texts have a special role to play must rest on one or two grounds: either there are
effects which follow specific types of treatment of literary texts that do not accrue when
the same or similar treatments are used with other texts, or certain kinds of pedagogic
activity are only possible with literary texts. If neither of these positions can be established,
then - in the case that benefits can be shown to accrue from particular ways of handling
literature - we have no way of knowing whether these benefits are simply a function of the
pedagogic treatment.
The arguments for literature
Against the background of these four assumptions, I wish now to consider some of the
arguments for literature that have been put forward. My purpose here is not necessarily to
show that these arguments are wrong, but to point out that they do not disprove the nonessentialist position. On the whole one has to say that a considerable amount of rather
imprecise posturing has been indulged, in support of the use of literature in the foreignlanguage learning process.
Argument 1 - the cultural access argument This asserts that literature gives insight into the
cultural ethos of the target language and its peoples, and that such insight can be gained
best via literary texts. It is of course true that in one sense major literary achievements
count as cultural documents, but it is highly implausible to suggest that certain kinds of
cultural insight are a precondition for successful language mastery, and equally nonsensical
to suggest that literature - maybe treated in a certain way - necessarily gives access to such
insight. To put it crudely, if one wishes to discover more about working conditions in
England in the 19th century, there may be better sources to consult than the novels of
Charles Dickens. I realise that this example may be seen as a trivialisation of the cultural
access argument, in the sense that the type of cultural insight one gains by reading Dickens
cannot, it might be said, be reduced to explicit knowledge about 19th century working
conditions in England. The problem is that when one tries to pin down the argument, and
discover what type of cultural access is meant, and how it affects language acquisition
processes positively, no answer is forth coming. The content of the cultural access
argument is rather nebulous.
Argument 2 - the language is literature argument A second argument is related to the
claims of cultural access. It says roughly that indirect literary reference so pervades both
everyday and professional talk that it is difficult to participate in target language discourse
with native speakers if one does not share at least some of this hidden
48
literary curriculum, which has, over the years, been incorporated into the everyday use of
the language. Thus, in a business negotiation, for example, the expression, ÂWell, to delay, or
not to delay, that is the question' may not be understood in terms of its implications and
connotations unless the indirect reference to a play of Shakespeare is recognised.
If, in this sense Âlanguage is literature', then it follows that in teaching the language
adequately, we should wish to teach the relevant literature embedded in the language. Thus
the implications of an expression having the structure, ÂTo V or not to V, that is the
question' would seem to be no different in kind, as far as I can see, from the implications of
many other fixed expressions in the language (cf. e.g. the slogan, 'Nicht immer, aber immer
öfter', which is currently creatively exploited in Germany, and derives from an entertaining
series of advertising clips which has been widely shown on television). Indeed, familiarity
with popular television broadcasts is probably equally important for this variant of the
cultural access argument. In other words, even if the Âlanguage is literature' argument holds
descriptively, it does not hold prescriptively. Structurally, the same argument holds not only
for advertising slogans, it also holds in some cultures, for example, Latin. Thus, in some
social groupings in some cultures, Latin phrases are liberally used in some registers, but
again this is possibly an argument for familiarising oneself with these phrases and their
progenesis, it is not an argument for the special status of the study of Latin in language
education.
The Âlanguage is literature' argument may, however, take a rather different tack. There
may well be, for example, language communities for whom certain texts have such cultural
weight that they offer particular insight into that language community and culture for
learners. Further, such culturally central texts may well have literary value. The most
obvious examples that spring to mind - though not necessarily currently valid ones - include
the Koran, the Bible, the works of Confucius, or indeed the works of Mao Tse-Tung. But such
cases are special cases, I would claim. Moreover, they constitute an argument for studying a
specific text or set of texts: they do not justify a pedagogic concern with literature in
general.
Argument 3 - the motivational argument Duff and Maley talk of Âthe genuine feel' of
literature as Âa powerful motivator' (1990:6). Again, it needs no arguing to suggest that
while literary texts can lead to increased interest in language learning, and maybe an
increased willingness to invest time and effort, this is by no means necessarily the case. As I
have said, the use of literature in the foreign-language classroom can also demotivate. It is
true of course that in some learning contexts learners welcome or indeed exact and require
literary topics and literary texts to work on: this is however not particularly elucidating, as
other learners will reject literature, and require rather different types of text. If, further, as
presupposed above, it is the treatment not the text that matters, then we have no means
of knowing whether positive motivational effects are occasioned by the textual choice, or
by the pedagogic presentation. Further of course, the fact that learners prefer certain
things is no guarantee that these things are particularly effective for learning purposes.
The motivational argument seems further not to be well-grounded empirically (cf.
observation 1 above).
Argument 4 - the 'Look at this!' argument From the literature, and from various
demonstrations at congresses and teacher gatherings, one has encountered highly creative,
stimulating and enjoyable teaching materials or indeed lessons, focusing on a literary text
or activity. In that the purpose of such demonstrations is persuasion, the
49
argument is, I suggest, ÂLook at this!' But one has also read of or experienced - qualitatively
if not quantitatively - equally impressive and instructive lessons focusing on the relative
pronoun, on street signs, advertisements, and so on. In short, a good lesson does not
constitute a good argument, unless the principles which make it a good lesson can be made
explicit, and generalised. The ÂLook at this!' argument is not really an argument at all.
Argument 5 - the compensatory argument I have already anticipated this argument in
assumption 3 (above). The compensatory argument says that Âconventional', or purely
Âfunctional', or Âtrivially communicative' or strictly Âpragmatic', or 'skin-oriented' foreignlanguage teaching is impoverished: it reduces language and learner, and ignores the richness
of linguistic experience and indeed of life itself. Literary texts are a necessary antidote.
Through them, new experiences, perspectives, perceptions, and visions can be incorporated
into the learning experience (cf. e.g. Müller-Zennoth, 1985; Hunfeld, 1990). Weinrich (1983) in
fact believes that to teach language without literature is an act of barbarism. The
adjectives used to characterise the deficient nonliterary pedagogic norm vary over time,
and the compensatory values claimed for literature also vary accordingly. The structure of
the argument remains, however, the same. It goes like this: choose for purposes of
illustration a rather poor, sterile nonliterary text (a search through published teaching
courses will inevitably turn up a few examples). Contrast this with a carefully selected
literary text, for which a stimulating classroom use is suggested. Conclude from this
comparison that we need literacy texts, else we shall be condemned to texts like the first
sample. We can see from this that the compensatory argument is not only invalid, but also
dishonest.
Argument 6 - the psycholinguistic argument The argument that we need literature in order
to get the culture or in order to get the language, the motivational, demonstrational, and
compensatory arguments - none offers a challenge to the non-essentialist position outlined
at the beginning of this paper. At best, they claim or demonstrate that certain treatments
of certain literary texts can have certain positive effects. This I do not wish to dispute, as
practically anything else could be substituted for the phrase Âliterary texts' with equal
validity (e.g. newspapers articles, magazine features, graffiti, street signs, pop songs, TV
clips, jokes, etc.). In order to effectively attack the nonessentialist position, we require, it
seems to me, a psycholinguistic argument.
One such argument claims that handling selected literary texts is likely to entail the
activation of cognitive processes that are relevant to the development of language
acquisition. For example, the activation of procedural knowledge of various kinds, the
development of cognitive and linguistic associative nets, the linking of world knowledge and
interlanguage knowledge, the internal analysis of acquired interlanguage rules, the focusing
of attention on language form that seems to be at least a precondition for the acquisition
of new grammatical forms, and so on. Work with literary texts may further restructuring, in
the sense of McLaughlin (1985). In terms of my own model of language acquisition, relevant
language knowledge may be acquired, analysed, integrated and/or automatised
(Edmondson, 1990; Edmondson and House, 1993:267-74). In Widdowson's terms, both
systematic and schematic knowledge may be activated by an encounter with literary texts
(Widdowson, 1983b). I have no quarrel with a psycholinguistic argument of this kind,
although in fact one does not, strangely enough, come across it in the literature.
The point is that persons who develop models of language learning and language
processing, inside which these cognitive processes and developments are claimed to
50
play a role in language learning, do not to the best of my knowledge mention literary texts.
In other words, acceptance of the type of psycholinguistic argument I have just developed
is totally consistent with the non-essentialist position, as the psycholinguistic claim is simply
that literary texts can be exploited for the activation of cognitive processes which underpin
the development of interlanguage systems. But again the same is true of almost any text.
Other psycholinguistically-oriented arguments which focus explicitly on literature in
language teaching, seem to me to have less cogency. One problem is that the terms used to
postulate a particular quality of cognitive activity in a literary encounter often seem ad hoc;
deriving more from literary theory than from cognitive learning theory. But it should be
possible to discuss the psychological impact of literary texts without inventing a literary
metalanguage to this end. A discussion as to the value of explicit grammatical rule-giving in
foreign-language teaching and a discussion of the value of literary texts in foreign-language
teaching should, in principle, be based on the same set of premisses. But, as I say, this is not
always so. The premisses behind some wellknown arguments for the value of literature are
sometimes obscure.
One argument, for example, stresses both the specificity and the universality of the
literary text. Claire Kramsch remarks that in her view, Âthe main argument for using literary
texts in the language classroom is literature's ability to represent the particular voice of a
writer among the many voices of his or her community and thus to appeal to the particular
in the reader.' (Kramsch, 1993:130) It appears that the literary text is both individual and
universal at the same time both form the author's perspective and from the reader's. Thus
it was written by Shakespeare some time ago, but still speaks to us now. Moreover, the
literary text is both universal in its address, and private in its appeal. It speaks to Everyman,
but does so differently to each individual. A literary work constitutes both a personal and a
public statement, a time-bound and a timeless product, and further has both a public and a
personal appeal. First we had the cultural access argument, which surely has to imply some
degree of representativeness in the literary texts studied. Second, however, we have the
Âparticular voice' of the individual writer. Third we have the universal address, the
timelessness of the textual appeal, and fourth we have the fact that literary meanings are
eminently negotiable, that is, the individual reader derives his or her own meaning from an
interpretation of the piece of literature. It is difficult to know how to evaluate claims of
these kinds, especially when they are juxtaposed in this way.
As no comparison is made with the nature of non-literary texts on these dimensions, it is
further difficult to see how such claims relate to the suggestion that literary texts have a
special role to play in foreign-language learning: Let me attempt such a comparison. One
could argue, for example, that many historical documents will reveal features both of the
original author and of the times in which he or she lived, and that a concern with the past
can likewise be seen as a general human tendency, although what we learn from surveying
the past will necessarily be coloured by our own individual histories. It is conceded that
these remarks snack of armchair philosophising - they are intended merely to illustrate the
problem of getting to grips with the type of psycholinguistic argument regarding literary
texts, their provenance and reception, that have been developed specifically for literary
texts. In a nutshell, it seems to me that such claims are more rhetorical appeals than
psycholinguistic arguments. There are of course various other claims that have been made
regarding the value of literature - but I do not wish to consider, ridicule, or attack various
theories developed by literary critics and theorists over the years: the arguments in
51
favour of using literature in the foreign-language classroom, and the arguments suggesting
that such texts have a special role to play, focus, I believe, on one or more of the four
points I have just listed.
Widdowson has developed a rich view of literature and its importance in language
teaching that merits careful attention. We note first of all that the view of literature for
language education that Widdowosn develops applies in different contexts and for
different purposes. Thus in Widdowson (1992) the approach to poetry developed is not
specifically geared towards L2 learning at all - the implied addressees are learners who are LI
speakers. However, in for example Widdowson (1985), the addressees are definitely L2
learners of English, but the main concern is with the teaching of literature, rather than the
teaching of language, though Widdowson cones down strongly in favour of the view that
literature teaching can only be relevant for L2 learners if it is integrated with language
teaching. In Widdowson (1983a), however, the focus is clearly on the use of literature in
Âordinary language-teaching programmes', as Rossner puts it in this transcribed
conversation. My point here is that the arguments and the pedagogic recommendations are
similar in all cases. Thus in Widdowson (1989) the argument is in fact that poetry is
significant for the purposes of language teaching, apparently whether first language or
second. Well, why not? This is a perfectly valid position to take, of course - it does mean
though that what characterises L2 learners as opposed to L1 learners is apparently not
specifically addressed by the procedures Widdowson justifies and develops (cf. Observation
4 at the beginning of this paper).
To consider the core of Widdowson's argument: it is essentially that literary texts
represent' rather than Ârefer' - in other words, a work of literature creates its own context,
may set up its own frame or reference, may indeed exploit, flout, or contradict our
schematic expectations. This, the argument continues, forces the reader to be more
actively engaged in making sense of the text, the reader needs to pay close attention to
the language used in order to be able to derive meaning from it. On one formulation, the
literary text presents itself as a problem that has to be solved. 'Meaning is a function of
focus on form' (Widdowson, 1989:57). The point is reinforced by arguments of the kind
sketched above - namely, the suggestion that the Âproblem' is one that may engage the
learner's interest, and that further the solution is a personal matter of interpretation, and
not one of norm-governed apprehension, whereby the learner is by definition prone to
error, delegated in advance to the second (L2), as opposed to the first (L1) division.
There are several points of criticism here. It has often enough been pointed out of late,
for example under the banner of cross-cultural pragmatics (see e.g. House and Kasper,
forthcoming) that learners often have to acquire L2-specific schematic knowledge. In other
words, the frames or schemata (here to be understood as cognitive networks that
encapsulate our expectations regarding more or less standardised situations and/or more
or less standardised types of discourse) that have been acquired via and for LI may prove
misleading, may indeed lead to misunderstanding, in L2. Now presumably, on Widdowson's
argument, the development of L2-specific schematic knowledge is scarcely going to be
furthered by the reading of literary texts, because the schemata employed therein have no
contextual reference outside of the text itself, and the literary text may moreover flout,
contradict, or simply ignore these interpretive and situational schemata that operate in
normative social discourse. In other words, the use of texts which presuppose and
creatively exploit frame-related knowledge would seem a priori not to be particularly
suitable for learners who do
52
not have, as yet, the relevant, presupposed schematic knowledge.
Secondly, the focus on close reading must surely be seen as more of a bottom-up than a
top-down interpretive strategy (hence the Âfocus on form'). Lacking the appropriate
schemata (which need further to be automatically retrievable, as they have only
representational and not referential relevance), the learner is thrown back on the text. One
can I think accept this, obviously - literary texts such as short lyric poems, for example,
require much more concentrated textual attention than the headlines in the daily
newspaper. But first, it is not only literary texts which demand this type of close textual
scrutiny, and second, it is not necessarily the case that such reading strategies are
particularly effective in furthering language acquisition and/or professional reading skills.
The first point scarcely needs arguing - in fact the reference to newspaper headlines above
was over-simplistic, as a glance at highly culturallyladen headlines in, for example, The
Economist demonstrate. Appropriate reading strategies clearly vary according to the type
of text being read, and the purpose behind the activity, and it cannot be seriously
suggested that reading literary texts is qualitatively different to the reading of texts of
other types or genres. As regards the second point, the literature suggests (e.g. Westhoff,
1987) that, generally, learnerss are more prone to use the types of text-based interpretive
procedures that Widdowson associates with literature simply because they are wary of
using their LI-based schematic knowledge, or because they have recognised that such
knowledge does not apply, or indeed for other, less cogent, reasons. The conclusion has
often been made that for increasing reading skills in L2, and for activating, restructuring,
and networking existing knowledge, a greater focus on top-down as opposed to bottom-up
skills should be encouraged. Such generalisations are simplistic, of course. I do not wish to
suggest that in some sense top-down as opposed to bottom-up strategies are Âbetter', or
vice versa. On the contrary, I am seeking to argue that the assumption that the practise of
close, text-based, problem-solving reading is particularly valuable for purposes of acquisition
is unwarranted: it has, as far as I can see, no justification other than the quality of the
textual interpretations that are thereby enabled and which are illustrated in Widdowson's
own exemplary analyses. The pedagogic point is that learners need to be encouraged to use
a variety of interpretive strategies in L2 reading. It remains to be proved that literary texts
are particularly appropriate in this undertaking. Widdowson's argument does not establish
this. Rather it seeks to argue that one particular kind of interpretive strategy may be
particularly necessary for handling one particular kind of text.
The psycholinguistic argumentation developed by Widdowson is then totally compatible
with the non-essentialist position adopted in this paper. Indeed, I do not think Widdowson
would want to refute that position.' Widdowson essentially argues for an active didactic
exploitation of foreign-language texts, such that cognitive procedures relevant to language
acquisition be activated, and claims that this can be achieved through various pedagogic
procedures using selected literary texts. I am happy to accept this stance. There are
however no grounds, as far as I can see, for the claim that literary texts per se have any
special or particular role to play in connection with a textual teaching strategy of this kind.
Conclusion
There are no psycholinguistic arguments which make valid claims re the special status of
literature. I conclude that there are no valid arguments whatever for the special status of
literature. The arguments I have looked at in this paper are either false, dis-
53
honest, invalid, or they merely establish that literary texts can be used as can other
types of text. A special and specific function for literary texts in the business of language
teaching and more importantly language learning seems therefore not to obtain.
Finally, in an attempt to understand why literature often in fact has in practice a special
status in language-teaching programmes, I want to invoke a historical perspective. Language
teaching and learning are, of course, commonly part of an educational undertaking, and
occur in an educational setting. Thus a focus on handling literary texts in modern languageteaching was originally part of a movement which sought to justify the teaching of foreign
languages in schools and universities. The inclusion of the study of literary texts was
intended to show that foreign languages were educationally respectable, as it were, and
comparable in status to Latin and Greek. This is doubtless an over-simplification, but is
reflected in the beginnings of institutionalised modern language instruction in German
secondary schools. In Germany, English was originally introduced as an obligatory school
subject at the beginning of this century via the Hamburger Abkommen. Originally the
language was only taught in the Realschulen - the technical schools - where it was seen to
be of direct relevance for business purposes. For the rather more academically-oriented
Gymnasien, however, such instrumental goals were not good enough, and hence, as I say,
more Âeducational' goals were introduced, specifically the focus on literature.
For some reason the language-teaching profession seems always to need some external
justification for teaching people to acquire and use some other language or languages. In
the 70s in Germany, under the influence of people like Habermas, a politically-laden notion
of communicative competence was carried over into the teaching of a foreign language.
Thus foreign language discourse should seek to change and certainly counteract social
inequality. Germany has further lived through various calls for cultural awareness in the
context of foreign-language teaching. It was Kulturkunde at one time; a justification for
language teaching in the Third Reich; and has since been termed Cultural Studies,
Landeskunde, or indeed Intercultural Studies. Possibly the terms are different labels for a
similar concern - namely a concern to broaden the scope of language teaching to include
aspects of life and being, the relativisation of one's own cultural norms, and indeed for
some, the opening of new perceptions regarding that which is foreign or alien, such
perceptions even extending in theory to new attitudes towards oneself, or towards persons
of another culture living on the same street. The Awareness Movement can be seen as part
of the same tendency, at least in so far as those concerned with foreign-language teaching
and planning have found it useful, necessary, or expedient to jump on the awareness
bandwagon. So the sands keep shifting, and foreign languages continue to seem to require
some sort of external rationale: we seem to insist on crying, ÂIt's not just language we're
teaching you know!'
It is a paradox that in our time, when recognition of the value of foreign language skills
(and not just English) has probably never been higher, we still have to find external, socioeducational justifications for teaching foreign languages. And, I suggest, by far the
strongest external justification that has been proposed, was and still is the literary one. It is
an educational rationale tied up with an historical tradition. It would help us focus more
efficiently on the job in hand if such extraneous goals, aspirations, and traditions were
carefully examined, and possibly abandoned in consequence. This paper is intended as a
small step in this direction.
54
References
Akyel, A. and Yalcin, E. (1990) Literature in the EFL class: a study of goal-achievement incongruence.
ELTJournal 44,3:174-80.
Börner,W and Vogel,W (1995) (eds) Der Text im Fremdsprachenunterricht. AKS-Verlag: Bochum. Duff,A.
and Maley,A. (1990) Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Edmondson,W J. (1990) Can one usefully do discourse analysis without investigating discourse
processing? In H. Nyyssönen (ed.) Proceedings from the Second Finnish Seminar on Discourse Analysis.
Oulu: University of Oulu.
Edmondson, W J. (1991) Sind literarische Texte für den fremdsprachlichen Lehr-Lernprozeß besonders
geeignet? In K-R. Bausch, H. Christ and H J. Krumm Texte im Fremdsprachenunterricht als
Forschungsgegenstand. Bochum: Brockmeyer.
Edmondson, W J. (1993) Literatur im fremdsprachenunterricht - wozu? In J. P Timm and H. J. Vollmer (eds)
Kontroversen in der Fremdsprachenforschung. Brockmeyer: Bochum.
Edmondson, WJ. (1996a) Subjective theories of second language acquisition. In J. Klein and D. Vanderbeke
(eds) Anglistentag 1995 Greifswald. Proceedings. Tübingen: Niemeyer.
Ellis, R. (1994) The Study of Second Language Acquisition. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Hermes, L. (1995) Learning logs in literaturwissenschaftlichen proseminaren. In W Börner and W Vogel
(1995) (eds) Der Text im Fremdsprachenunterricht. AKS-Verlag: Bochum.
Hunfeld, H. (1990) Literatur als Sprachlehre. Ansätze eines hermeneutisch orientierten
Fremdsprachenunterrichts. Berlin: Langenscheidt.
Kramsch, C. (1993) Context and Culture in Language Teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Kranz, 1). (1995) Neue Ziele erfordern neue Wege: Literarische Texte im Englischunterricht der
Sekundarstufe II. In W Börner and W Vogel (eds) Der Text im Fremdsprachenunterricht. AKS-Verlag:
Bochum.
Lott, B. (1988) Language and literature. Language Teaching 21,1:1-13.
McLaughlin, B. (1990) Restructuring. Applied Linguistics 11:113-28. Müller-Zannoth, 1. (1985) Lektüre und
Kommunikation im Englischunterricht der Sekundarstufe II. Harold Brighouse's Hobson's Choice. Die
Neureren Sprache 84,1:27-41. Quirk, R. and Widdowson, H. G. (1985) (eds) English in the World.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Stern, H.H. (1983) Fundamental Concepts of Language Teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Weinrich, H. (1983) Literatur im Fremdsprachenunterricht - ja, aber mit Phantasie. In Hess Lüttich
E.W.B. (ed) Textproduktion Textrezeption. Tübingen: Narr.
Westhoff, G.J. (1987) Didaktik des Leseverstehens. Ismaning: Hueber.
Widdowson, H.G. (1983a) Talking shop on literature and ELT. ELTJournal 37,1:30-5. Widdowson, H.G.
(1983b) Learning Purpose and Language Use. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Widdowson, H.G. (1985)
The teaching, learning and study of literature. In R. Quirk and H. G.
Widdowson (eds) English in the World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Widdowson H.G. (1989) The
Significance of Poetry. In C. S. Butler, R.A. Cardwell and J. Channell, (eds) Language and Literature Theory and Practice. Dept. of Linguistics: University of Nottingham.
Widdowson, H.G. (1992) Practical Stylistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Wierlacher, A. (1987) (ed.) Perspektiven und Verfahren interkultureller Germanistik. München: iudicium.
Wierlacher,A. (1989) Magisterstudium Interkulturelle Germanistik an der Universität Bayreuth.Jahrbuch
Deutsch als Fremdsprache 15:385-419.
Notes
1
2
This paper is based on my oral presentation at the forum ÂThe role of literature in foreign language
learning and teaching', which took place at AILA 1996.The basic position developed here is also taken
in Edmondson, 1991, 1993.
I do not, of course, rule out the possibility of relevant research strategies being discovered,
55
3
4
5
6
nor do I deny the relevance of qualitative, ethnographic studies. It remains however surprising that
to the best of my knowledge, the issue has never even been raised in empirical studies, and this
despite (because oft) the widespread use of literary texts.
The terms learning and acquisition are here used more or less interchangeably. The terms foreign
and second language are not - ÂL2' will be used as the general term.
One does come across the peculiar argument that literature is eminently suitable for language
teaching because it allows the use of currently fashionable and/or theoretically justified pedagogic
practices. Cf. e.g. Duff and Maley, 1990:6 ÂThe fact that literary texts are by their very essence, open
to multiple interpretation means that only rarely will two readers' understanding of or reaction to a
given text be identical. This ready-made gap between one individual's interpretation and another's
can be bridged by genuine interaction.'
There are of course different variables operating here - learning stage, L1 reading skills, type of text,
reading purpose, and so on.
Indeed, Widdowson would appear not to dispute the non-essentialist position. In Widdowson,
19ß3a:31 it is explicitly stated that the postulated cognitive procedures are not only activated in
literature. Literary texts are simply an available resource. Whether and to what extent this resource
will be made use of will depend on a host of local, contextual factors. I agree with all this, of course.
56
Translation and language teaching'
Kirsten Malmkjaer
University of Cambridge
Abstract
Translation has had a bad press among language teachers in recent decades, though a reevaluation appears to be under way. This paper briefly charts the history of the use of
translation in language teaching from the late 18th century, summarises the objections
that have been raised repeatedly since the late 19th century, and suggests that if
translating in the foreign-language classroom resembles 'real-life' translation sufficiently
closely, all these objections fall away, and that translation is in fact a valuable additional
language learning method, from both a pedagogic and a pragmatic point of view
Introduction
The issue of the use of translation in language teaching is one on which most language
teachers have a view, and fairly often that view is not favourable. Many introduce
translation reluctantly, often only because students need to pass in the translation
components of examinations.
Nevertheless, translation seems set to remain as a significant component in the teaching
of many languages in many parts of the world, and for that reason alone, it would be
important to try to make the best of it. But there are also signs that translation is
beginning to regain respectability among language teaching professionals - even within the
EFL community where it has previously been particularly strongly vilified. For example, the
Resources Books for Teachers series published by Oxford University Press contains a volume
on translation by Alan Duff (1989), and an issue of Cambridge Language Reference News
(Cambridge University Press, 1996:2) devotes its front page to a feature by Margherita
Ulrych, Associate Professor of Translation at the School of Modern Languages for
Interpreters and Translators, University of Trieste. The feature strikes an optimistic note,
claiming that, Âthe role of translation in language teaching has undergone a considerable
transformation in recent years'.
Support for a revival of the practice of using translation in language teaching can also be
found in recent literature on applied linguistics. For example, as John Williams points out in
his introduction to Cook (1996) and Schachter (1996), Cook's notion of multicompetence
strongly suggests that Âtasks that promote "multi-lingual" competence (e.g. translation and
interpreting)' are valuable for language learners. Similarly, Selinker argues that translation
equivalents play an important role in the formation of interlanguage competence, Âas they
are an important strategy for learners as they "look across" linguistic systems' (1992;
1996:103) According to Selinker, variation in learners' ability to translate may be therefore
related to variation in their
57
L2 competence. If this is the case, then training in translation might be expected to
enhance L2 acquisition, and it would be useful to try to determine how and what type of
translation might most profitably be employed to this end.
To focus such discussion, I provide in the remainder of this paper, a brief outline of the
history of translation in language teaching, in order to show (i) how it came about that
translation got to have such a bad press within the language teaching community and (ii)
how the traditional arguments against the use of translation in language teaching can be
seen to fall away, one by one, if the type of translation used in the language classroom
resembles translation proper sufficiently closely.
The objections
Arguments against using translation in language teaching were initially raised in the 19th
century by members of the early reform movement, and were largely reiterated in the
1960s and 70s by people who believed in the direct, natural, and/or communicative
methods of language teaching. The method they were objecting to was the socalled
'grammar-translation' method, which had been devised as a way of teaching modern
languages in secondary schools in Prussia at the end of the 18th century (Howatt, 1984:131)
on the basis of the so-called scholastic method traditionally used by individuals studying the
written form of a language independently, and also for teaching Latin and Greek in
grammar schools. The scholar would study the grammar of a language, and read texts,
almost invariably religious or literary, with the help of a dictionary and the acquired
grammar. This method would obviously normally involve writing down the meanings
gleaned, particularly in the early stages - effectively writing down a translation of the text.
It worked excellently for scholarly, studious people whose main aim was to learn to read. It
continues to work excellently for such people - people with an analytic bent who enjoy
learning grammatical systems - but such people are not the majority, and the grammartranslation method resulted from attempts to adapt the scholastic approach to the
teaching of modern languages in schools to large numbers of students of varying abilities
learning in groups.
The first grammar-translation course in English was published in 1793 by Johann Christian
Fick (1763-1821), following the model of a course in French by Johann Valentin Meidinger
(1756-1822) (Meidinger, 1783) (Howatt, 1984:132). To make things easier, instead of leaping
straight into whole, literary or religious texts, the method used translation into and out of
the foreign language of individual sentences which were usually specially constructed to
exemplify certain grammatical features. This meant that the examples could be graded for
difficulty and that the grammar could be taught systematically (Howatt, 1984:132). So the
syllabus chose as its units grammatical constructions, ordered them in terms of difficulty,
and presented them in made up sentences. It was a typical structural syllabus, in fact. There
was a great deal of emphasis on practice, with exercises of various kinds, but predominantly
involving translation of sentences into and out of the foreign language.
This method received a boost in England in 1858 when a system of public examinations
was established, controlled by the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. These
examinations served to fix modern languages firmly on the curriculum along with classical
languages, but it was felt that for them to have the same academic respectability as the
classical languages, they also had to be taught like the classical languages. So the emphasis
on written language and on grammar was entrenched, and the spoken language received
scant attention. In this way, the examinations effectively fixed the priorities of the
grammar-translation method (Howatt, 1984:133).
58
The wisdom of the grammar-translation method was initially brought into question on
theoretical grounds by adherents of the Reform Movement of the late 19th century.
Important Reform Movement publications include Sweet (1899, 1964) and Jespersen (1901,
1904). The movement was based on three fundamental principles (see Howatt, 1984:171-2),
each of which ran counter to the grammar-translation method of teaching:
1 The primacy of speech
2 The importance of connected text in teaching and learning
3 The priority of oral classroom methodology
Principle (2) was influenced by the emerging science of psychology with its interest in
association (Howatt, 1984:172-3). It was considered that unless learners were presented
with whole texts in which the linguistic elements were correctly assembled, they would be
unable to form appropriate Âassociations' in the new language. The use of isolated sentences
for any purposes was therefore discouraged, and their use in translation exercises especially
so, since translation was thought to lead to Âcross associations' between the two languages,
which would actively hinder the development of the foreign language.
However, the final and severest blow to the grammar-translation method came from
methods of language teaching, known variously as Natural Method, Conversation Method,
Direct Method, Communicative Approach, and so on, based on the philosophy that:
Learning how to speak a new language ... is not a rational process which can be
organized in a step-by-step manner following graded syllabuses of new points to
learn, exercises and explanations. It is an intuitive process for which human beings
have a natural capacity that can be awakened provided only that the proper
conditions exist. Put simply, there are three such conditions: someone to talk to,
something to talk about, and a desire to understand and make yourself understood.
(Howatt, 1994:192)
In fact, this method had been widely practised, in the form of home tutoring by teachers
who used a foreign language more or less exclusively with their pupils, since the 16th
century. (Howatt, 1984:193) Its application to group teaching in schools derives from the
work of Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi (1746-1827) (Howatt, 1984:197) primarily through its use
by Lambert Sauver and Gottlieb Heness who together founded The Sauveur-Heness School
of Modern Languages in Boston, USA, in 1869. (Howatt, 1984:198-201)
However, it was Maximilian Berlitz (1852-1921) who came to apply the Natural Method,
beginning with schools for the large numbers of immigrants who were arriving in the USA
from all over Europe, mostly without much of an educational background, and in urgent
need of learning to produce and understand speech. During a 30-year period, Berlitz
established 16 schools in America and 30 in Europe (Howatt 1984:204), all of which, whether
they taught languages as foreign or second languages, used the same methodology. In
Berlitz's directions to the teacher, identical in all his books, translation is ruled out under any
circumstances (Howatt, 1984:205) with a caution against 'the slightest compromise on this
point.' (Berlitz, 1907:7)
More recently, Lado (1964), one of the most outspoken anti-translationists, explains that
translation exercises should not be used because:
Translation is not a substitute for language practice. Arguments supporting
59
this principle are (1) that few words if any are fully equivalent in any two languages,
(2) that the student, thinking that the words are equivalent, erroneously assumes
that his translation can be extended to the same situations as the original and as a
result makes mistakes, and (3) that wordfor-word translations produce incorrect
constructions.
Psychologically, the process of translation is more complex than, different from,
and unnecessary for speaking, listening, reading, or writing. Furthermore, good
translation cannot be achieved without mastery of the second language. We,
therefore, teach the language first, and then we may teach translation as a separate
skill, if that is considered desirable. (Lado, 1964:53-4)
Gatenby summarises what he sees as Âthe reasons why translation cannot be expected to
produce good results when employed in the classroom' (1967b:66) The summary consists
largely of a comparison between the way in which a child learns its first or its several
languages naturally, and the way in which a foreign language is learnt in the classroom. In
the natural course of events, he claims, Âthere is, of course, no translation.' (1967b:87) In
fact, an exactly contrary claim has been made by Harris and Sherwood (1978) who assert
that bilingual children translate spontaneously and with no difficulty between their
languages, although their claims are based on very little data (Toury, 1986:80). Gatenby goes
on to recommend the direct or oral method, echoing the kinds of objection raised by Lado,
and adding that translation cannot be used as a testing mechanism either:
To ask for a translation is to ask for something unnatural. Often no literal translation
is possible, or a phrase with an entirely different basic meaning is used in the other
language ... Translation, then, especially literal translation, is often no test at all of
comprehension. A pupil may understand perfectly well what the English means - as a
bilingual child does - without being able at once or with any facility to put it into the
vernacular ... And there is another reason why testing by translation is bad pedagogy.
We as teachers are trying to bring our pupils to use English without translating in
their own minds, to say without hesitation the right thing on the right occasion ...
Our aim is to get our pupils ... to the stage where they can use English without having
to think. Abruptly to interrupt this process and to ask a pupil to put an English
sentence into his own tongue when our whole endeavour is to train him to dissociate
the two languages is to give ourselves a Sisyphean labour. (Gatenby, 1967b: 69-70)
In sum, then, arguments against using translation in language teaching include at least the
following. Translation:
1. is independent of the four skills which define language competence: reading, writing,
speaking and listening
2. is radically different from the four skills
3. takes up valuable time which could be used to teach these four skills
4. is unnatural
5. misleads students into thinking that expressions in two languages correspond one-toone
6. prevents students from thinking in the foreign language
7. produces interference
8. is a bad test of language skills
60
9. is only appropriate for training translators
These arguments have survived with a doggedness which suggests that there must be
some truth in them. I think, though, that the degree to which they are true depends
radically on the kind of 'translation' experience students are exposed to, and in the section
which follows, I wish to show how the arguments listed here fall away, one by one, if the
types of translation exercises used in language teaching resemble the types used in
translators' training programmes reasonably closely.
Addressing the objections
It is impossible to produce an acceptable translation in the business setting unless a good
deal of reading, writing, speaking, and listening has taken place. Far from being independent
of the other four skills (argument 1) (above), translation is in fact dependent on and
inclusive of them, and language students who are translating will be forced to practise
them.
It is misleading to suggest that translation is radically different from other language skills
if it depends on and includes them (argument 2). So there is no reason to argue that
translation is a time waster in language teaching (argument 3), at least on those grounds. It
may of course be true that to teach through translation takes more tine than teaching by
other means.
Translating may be radically different from the other language skills - it is clear that the
ability to translate does not develop in tandem with competence in a foreign language but
only with practice in properly situated translation (Toury, 1986). But given that most of the
world's population is bilingual or multilingual, there is no good reason why the ability to
move between languages, or to draw on more than one simultaneously, should not be
considered a natural language skill in its own right; in any case, if a translation task is
properly situated, it provides as natural a focus for practice as any other classroom activity
(argument 4), and it is a focus which will draw all of the skills together.
If real-life translation is emulated in the classroom, it will soon become clear to language
students that expressions in the two languages do not necessarily correspond one-to-one
(argument 5), and that even when they do, the contexts for the two texts may differ so
radically that the TL expression which is usually considered the closest Âequivalent' of the SL
expression is in fact unsuitable for TT. In such situations, students will certainly be required
to practise focused thinking in both languages (argument 6).
It is true that translation produces interference (argument 7). However, bilinguals at
whatever level, experience interference of one kind or another, and practice in translation
encourages awareness and control of interference. !
Since it is not possible to produce a good translation unless all of the other skills have
been employed during the process, an examination involving, say, the translating of a text
for which sufficient groundwork has been done in class, would, in fact, test the students'
ability to apply all of the skills (argument 8).
Finally, we are left with the argument that translation should be reserved for trainee
translators (argument 9). However, it is equally possible to argue that it is useful to
introduce language learners to as many applications of their linguistic skills as possible, for
several reasons. First, as Vienne (in press) points out, many language specialists who do not
become translators nevertheless enter professions in which a basic understanding of the
processes involved in professional translation is useful. Second, there is no longer any
guarantee that language students will walk straight into
61
the kind of job that they had originally envisaged. Third, the trend in university education in
general seems to be towards early generality with later specialisation; it will clearly help
later specialisation if some preparation has been made for it early on.
All of this is not intended as an argument that all foreign-language teaching be carried
out through translation. It is intended only as an argument that translation might profitably
be used as one among several methods of actually teaching language, rather than as mere
preparation for an examination.
Note
An expanded version of this paper appears in K. Malmkjaer (ed.) Translation and Language Teaching:
Language Teaching and Translation. Manchester: St Jerome Publishing. In Press. It is printed here with
the kind permission of St Jerome Publishing.
References
Berlitz, M. 1). (1907) The Berlitz Method for Teaching Modern Languages. Illustrated edition for children.
English Part. New York: Berlitz. Extracts reprinted in M.G. Hesse (ed.) (1975) Approaches to Teaching
Foreign Languages. Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing Co.
Cook,V J. (1996) Competence and multi-competence. In G. Brown, K. Malmkjaer and J.N. Williams (eds)
Performance and Competence in Second Language Acquisition. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Duff, A. (1989) Translation. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Fick, J.C. (1793) Praktische englische Sprachlehre für Deutsche beiderlei Geschlechts. Nach der in
Meidingers französischen Grammatik befilgten Methode. Erlangen.
Gatenby, EX (1967a) Popular fallacies in the teaching of foreign languages. In W R. Lee (ed.) E.L.T
Selections 2: articles from the journal English Language Teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Gatenby, EN (1967b) Translation in the classroom. In W.R. Lee (ed.) E.L. T Selections 2: articles from the
journal English Language Teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Harris, B. and Sherwood, B.(1978) Translation as an innate skill. In 1). Gerver and H. W Sinaiko (eds)
Language Interpretation and Contnurnication. New York and London: Plenum Press.
Howatt,A. P R. (1984) A History of English Language Teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jespersen,
O. (1904) Hoc' to Teach a Foreign Language. London: Allen and Unwin (originally published in Denmark
as Sprogundervisniag in 1901).
Lado, R. (1964) LanquageTeaching: a scientifc approach. NewYork: McGraw-hill. Meidinger, J.V (1783)
Praktische französische Grammatik. Frankfurt.
Schachter, J. (1996) Learning and triggering in adult L2 acquisition. In G. Brown, K.Malmkjaer and J.N.
Williams (eds) Performance and Competence in Second Language Acquisition. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Selinker, L. (1996) On the notion of 'IL competence' in early SLA research: an aid to understanding some
baffling current issues. In G. Brown, K. Malmkjaer and J.N. Williams (eds) Performance and Competence
in Second Language Acquisition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Sweet, H. (1899) The Practical Study of Languages: a guide for teachers and learners. London: Dent.
Republished R. Mackin (1964) (ed.) Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Toury, G. (1986) Monitoring discourse transfer:A test-case for a developmental model of translation. In J.
House, J. Blum-Kulka and S. Blum-Kulka (eds) Interlingual and Intercultural Communication: discourse
and cognition in translation and second language acquisition studies. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag.
Ulrych, M. (1996) Communication Through Translation. Cambridge Language Reference News 2:1.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ELT Division.
Vienne, J. (in press) Teaching what they didn't learn as language students. In K. Malmkjaer (ed.)
Translation in Language Teaching: language teaching and translation. Manchester: St. Jerome
Publishing.
62
Documentary television:
the scope for media linguistics
John Corner
University of Liverpool
Introduction
This paper was read at the AILA Symposium: key concepts in the study of language and the
media, chaired by Ulrike Meinhof and Kay Richardson. The Symposium brought together a
range of papers in the fast-developing field of research on media language, culminating in a
panel discussion. There is now a wide literature in this area, often of a highly
interdisciplinary nature. Some of this work has focused upon specific genres, such as news
discourse, documentary genres and advertising. Increasingly, there is a recognition that
language does not stand alone in any type of mass communication, but interacts with other
semiotic modes, especially the visual. Within media studies itself, there has been a longstanding interest in questions of communicative form, including linguistic form. The
intensively developed field of reception analysis, with its concern for the role of the
audience in mass communication, has become more attentive to the ways in which viewers
talk about media texts. These developments have had interesting theoretical as well as
substantive implications, generating much debate around the respective roles of 'the text'
and 'the reader' as the source of meaning-production. A relevant question in this respect is
whether text-centred and reader-centred theoretical perspectives could or need be
combined. At the same time, the growth and development of new technologies (particularly
direct broadcasting by satellite), have already begun to affect the communicative forms of
the mass media, and there is an important role for linguistic analysis in the exploration of
these.
The panel consisted of Norman Fairclough, Finn Fransden, David Graddol, Helga Kotthoff,
Ulrike Meinhof, Greg Myers, and Kay Richardson, all of them members of the AILA Scientific
Commission of Language and the Media. They addressed the following questions, thus
signalling the beginning of an ongoing debate:
1
What are the limits of textual analysis? At what point does it become
necessary and appropriate to integrate textual analysis with reception
analysis, studying processes and results of interpretative work?
2
Do linguists have anything to offer when moving into the analysis of
multimodal, polysemiotic texts?
3
What are the consequences for media discourse analysis of social change,
63
4
global, national, and local? Are our tools and methods of analysis adequate to
the changing circumstances of media discourse?
Are there different paradigms and traditions of analysis in different national
contexts and, if so, what are they?
The paper by John Corner, Professor in the School of Politics and Communication Studies
(below) offers a theoretical overview of the challenge to the study of media language
posed by key issues surrounding the nature of depictive practice in documentary-making. It
looks at the different groundings given for documentary credibility in the idealist notions
of 'realism' developed by British film-makers in the 1930s and by the proponents of 'cinema
verite' and 'direct cinema' in the 1960s, who were committed to an idea of indexical
evidence. Surveying recent critical ideas about documentary, it develops a typology of the
word-image combinations variously denounced and advocated and the relationships posed
between levels of Âobservation' and Âexposition'. It looks at the recommendations made for
increased reflexivity and audience-awareness in modern (and 'postmodern') documentary
discourse, attempting an updated answer to the old question: 'how can film and television
tell the truth?'
Ulrike H. Meinhof and Kay Richardson
Documentary television: the scope for media linguistics
I am a media researcher, not a linguist, and I am an enthusiast for that range of work in film
and television which, internationally, is labelled Âdocumentary'. The combined use of visual
and verbal devices to offer sustained accounts of real-world happenings and circumstances
has produced a genre which, although it is rather blurry in definition, includes some of the
most complex, fascinating and socially engaged media artefacts ever made. Moreover,
documentary work and documentary-influenced work is still very much a 'tradition in
development'. Innovation in the genre is currently so strong as to constitute a wholesale 'reimaging' of forms and functions, a new 'positioning both of discursive and social relations
within the broader, changing context of audio-visual culture.
As a media researcher, I am interested in much of the current work in media language
study which draws on linguistics. This work attempts to offer a more precise and firmly
conceptualised sense of discursive process than has been achieved either by literary critical
methods or by structuralist semiotics (both of which have been influential in media studies
since the 1970s). Recent work by applied linguisticallyinformed media studies can achieve.
However, I am sometimes unsure about the extent to which media-linguists are trying to tell
fellow linguists about the interest of media usage or trying to tell media researchers about
the interest of linguistic structures. I think some media-linguists are a bit unsure and even
anxious on this point too (interdisciplinarity is fun, but it is also a way of at least doubling
the number of your potential critics!). This is why I believe a good route for any Âapplied
linguistics', whatever benefits are brought back to linguistics itself, lies in actual
collaboration with people from other study areas. However, the job of this paper is to make
some points about documentary and to suggest that media linguistics might usefully pay it
more attention.
Tension and paradox within documentary discourse
At the heart of most documentary work there is a tension, variously resolved, between the
necessity of being Âcreative', of producing a crafted artefact, and an
64
obligation to Âreality', to the integrity of recorded evidence. This tension is to be found
elsewhere, of course, and in television it is a widely-remarked characteristic of news
services. But whereas news services have to relate their accounts to delimited events and
circumstances, generating descriptively dense Âstories' around Âhappenings' which can be
considered to have Ânews value', documentary can range much widely in the form its
relationship to reality takes. Its expansiveness here allows its a far more varied visual and
verbal grammar than that conventionally employed by the news, whilst its greater duration
permits it a broader range of narrative possibilities.
If one central tension in documentary work is between its Âcreative' and its Âreferential'
poles, then another occurs as a result of the varying relations which can obtain between
the status of those specific depictions of the real which are seen and heard on the screen
and the kind of truth claims which a documentary is making. This brings in what might be
seen as the Âterrible twins' of documentary discourse - verisimilitude and veracity. The
achievement of verisimilitude ('air of being true'; Âsemblance of actuality') is the product of
a number of factors primarily concerning the construction of the visual plane in
documentary but also including the character of overheard speech. These involve, for
instance, the kinds of actions and behaviours depicted, composition and framing of the
depiction, relations of proximity and distance within the image, location and shifting of
point-of-view offered, and the durational values which obtain (e.g. real-time segments and
time-collapse cuts). These, and other, factors all contribute to a perceptual effect in the
documentary viewer, on the basis of which they will accord what they see, quite possibly
without self-conscious reflection, a certain ontological status and a consequent degree of
evidentiality.
This takes us to Âveracity'. For whilst Âverisimilitude' is all about Âseeming', Âappearing',
Âlikeness' and Âair of, (leaving the underlying question either open or begged) Âveracity'
concerns the real capacities for truth-telling which documentaries have, and indeed, about
the way their interest in truth relates to their other interests - for instance, in entertaining
viewers or even in reinforcing and underlining particular social perspectives which it is
institutionally convenient for them to support.
The interplay between Âverisimilitude' and Âveracity' varies considerably with documentary
type. For instance, in the observationalist film-making which, in Britain, has become
extremely popular and is often called 'fly-on-the-wall', the integrity accorded to the
visualisation and its associated overheard speech is absolutely fundamental to whatever
Âtruths' (about the police, schools, army training) are perceived to emerge. Often such
programmes can be seen to work entirely in an indirect mode, that is to say at no point is
there any speech which is outside of the frame of observed action and at no point is the
viewer directly addressed with any descriptions or propositions about what is being shown
and heard. Captions, in this tradition, are used minimally and merely indicate shifts of places
and times.
We can contrast this with the very large number of direct mode documentaries, in which,
through the textual system is organised either by the direct address speech of a presenter
(seen or unseen) or by the relayed speech of various interviewees who speak their
testimony to an interviewer in a way which implicitly recognises the existence of the
onlooking viewer. Here, actual rendering of the realities forming the topic (as distinct from
the presentation of accounts of them) may not be a significant factor in the construction
of documentary knowledge.
I have talked about Âdirectness' and 'indirectness' in documentary accounts. In a related
way, it might also be useful to distinguish between primary and secondary representation.
Primary representation is the use of recorded sound and image to
65
depict the plane of ongoing realities; however various the style, the aim is mostly to 'access'
the viewer directly to the real via the iconic properties of photographic or electronic
reproduction. Post-production editing usually attempts to achieve this with a degree of
realist continuity bordering on 'transparency' (we just 'see things').
Secondary representation consists, for example, of interview testimony, archive clips,
stills material, presenter exposition and perhaps even studio sequences. It is openly
discursive (descriptive and perhaps argumentative) in character, with a marked 'telling'
function to perform. Although the two are hard to keep cleanly apart within the textual
systems of many documentaries (so, for instance, primary representation may be
modulated into secondary moments or, conversely, a fundamentally secondary discourse
may have primary phases placed within it) there is a need, I think, for analytic distinction.
Among other things, such a distinction helps to make better sense of disputes which have
occurred about the integrity of documentary practice from within the professional worlds
of film and television. For instance, John Grierson, a pioneer British film documentarist of
the 1920s and 1930s, was fond of talking about the way in which the 'raw material' of life
was transformed by the creative imagination of the film-maker. His formulations explicitly
allow authorial 'license' at the level of the ordering of materials and their shaping,
underneath a commentary, into a finished film (secondary representation) but are a good
deal less interested in the problems of 'capturing' raw material of unproblematic status in
the first place (primary representation). In fact, in a number of his films, Grierson had
necessarily to resort to high levels of theatricality and 'staging' in order to get the kind of
primary representation he required (so, for instance, shots purporting to be of the inside of
a fishing vessel, shown in other shots being tossed around in a rough sea, actually take
place in a studio set, with scripted speech). To my mind, there is nothing essentially 'wrong'
with such a way of gaining verisimilitude, but I think it is significant that it is somehow
missing from the list of directorial problems which Grierson thinks it interesting to talk
about. In a sense, his version of the problems at the secondary level is based on
assumptions about the lack of problems at the primary. Many years later, and in a
completely different mode altogether, the television 'fly-on-the-wall' director Roger Graef
has written at length about the problems of the primary. He has no real option because, in
what amounts to a complete inversion of Grierson, Graef gets close to saying that his work
involves no secondary representation at all! His films are 'films of record' - just that, even
the selection and time-compression of editing are seen merely to follow the integrity of the
recorded event. His cameraman, however, has a rather different and considerably less
inductive view of the process, noting in a widely-cited comment that, 'When we start to
shoot, much of Roger's work is finished' (my emphasis). What is indicated here is the degree
of pre-planning and design which a film-maker placing so much emphasis on primary
representation may simply have to undertake. Whilst not questioning the brilliance of Graef
as a filmmaker, I see this as almost like smuggling in a secondary representational agenda
'before', rather than (as conventionally) 'after' the primary. Having, I hope, set up some
sense of the broader discursive questions which characterise documentary work, I want
now to draw back a little further and become more schematic about the ways in which
documentaries can possibly commit themselves to 'truth-telling'.
Three modes of documentary Âtruth'
1. The truths of secondary witness By this, I mean the way in which the visualisations (and
possibly the overheard speech) of documentary recording directly provide
66
viewers with evidence for knowledge-building. One can point to variations here, with
different levels of determinateness and different relations posed between the particular
and the general, the concrete and the abstract. In one documentary, for instance, we can
come to Âknow' that, indeed, there are people sleeping out in London square. In another, we
can come to Âknow' how recruits to the Foreign Legion are initially interviewed. Or, in a
programme on pollution, we can come to Âknow' a risk by seeing a meter measuring high
radioactivity in the mud just scooped from a pond. In a programme on hospitals, we can
come to Âknow' the chaos of a typical casualty department. Suspicions and qualification may
enter into these acts of knowing but such acts form a major element of documentary
viewing internationally. In watching observational films of the 'fly-on-the-wall' kind, the
viewer becomes involved in a continuous act of secondary witness, usually unprompted by
out-of-frame information. The recent and often controversial fashion for wider use of
dramatisation in documentary is in large part the result of a stronger requirement to
entertain, but it also stems from a desire to achieve, by reconstruction, the sensory
directness of Âwitness' material. Of course, secondary witness can only be of the particular.
Yet documentaries frequently want to work at the level of the general. How to get Âup
there' from localised image and sound. Well, a whole range of devices - variously explicit,
metonymic and metaphoric - have been used to project instances as Âtypical'. Most of them
still await detailed study.
2. The truths of testimony The interview, variously shot and edited, has become a central
component of documentary television. Of course, the broadcast interview is one of the
major forms of public communication. Testimony, like Âsecondary witness' above, takes
different forms. Its positioning between Âsubjective' and Âobjective' realms, as given by its
form and its content, is an important variable here. This can involve the extent to which it is
a matter of Âfeelings' or of Âfacts', and the extent to which it is a matter of Âfeelings' or of
Âfacts', and the extent to which it relays a viewpoint or an experience. The veracity of
testimony can Âstand on its own', grounded in the perceived probity of the interviewee or,
more often, it can be the product of an articulation with other interview sequences, with
presenter speech and/or with visualisation. One of the most powerful ways of combining
testimony with image is to run it as voice-over across image, thus melding subjectifed and
objectified elements in a way which can organise the latter in terms of the former. At
times, this method can approximate closely to the discursive effect which film critics have
termed Âlocalisation', whereby in fiction feature films the viewpoint and consciousness of a
particular character is used to organise and mediate the terms of the world being made
cinematically available. The devices by which interview testimony becomes supportable or
questionable in contemporary documentary could themselves provide a full-length study! I
am particularly interested myself in documentaries concerning unsolved mysteries,
historical or contemporary. Here, the range of work on UFOs and Âaliens' is especially
fascinating. The relations constructed between testimony and visible evidence can be used
to undercut either way as well to provide corroboration.
3. The truths of exposition Exposition offered explicitly either by a seen presenter or a
voice-over is the principal element of many classic documentary films, whose textual system
is often organised entirely by the transitions, the narrative developments and the relational
logics, of commentary. This is often organised entirely by the transitions, the narrative
developments and the relational logics, of commentary. This is often sup-
67
ported by visualisations whose discursive status is illustrative and secondary - rather than
revelatory and primary, as with Âsecondary witness' modes. Exposition continues to be a
requirement of most journalistic documentary but it is noticeable, even here, how general
the move has been away from direct exposition towards, where possible, the modes of
secondary witness and testimony. This has, in part, been a move away from grounding
documentary truth centrally in institutionalised authority (the Âprofessional' authority of
person or of organisation) and towards both a greater 'self-scepticism', a recognition of
interpretative options and perhaps the viewer's right to a greater degree of interpretative
latitude than heavily-evaluated commentaries often provided. Postmodern nervousness has
played its part here, but also, I think, a genuine attempt to displace the discursive
hegemony of the Âofficial voice'.
This is a crude typology of how Âtruth effects' are generated within the textual systems
of documentary; however to proceed with elaboration would be to undercut my wish simply
to sketch out the complexity and, I hope, the analytic interest of the area.
Conclusions
ÂDocumentary' merges many of the problems of representational form which applied
linguists have addressed separately in study of news and study of fiction and then adds
others which are quite its own. With a rich history, it is a developing area too - at the
forefront of the new kinds of hybridised format which are re-styling the Âreal' and its
relations to the Âimaginary' on television screens all over the world. An approach sensitive
not just to its broad sweep of themes and rhetorics, but to the logical organisation of its
use of speech and image, could be extremely productive. This might have an historical
dimension, since there is a great deal to do on the history of documentary usage. Some
connection with reception analysis might well be in order too. If a Âlinguistic' approach is
fully to speak to issues about social meaning, pleasure, and knowledge, then I believe that it
needs to establish a point of reference outside of textual systems themselves. Attention to
the performative language used by producers, directors, crews, and editors in actually
making documentaries could also be highly instructive. However, if the aims embraced by
this conference session are fulfilled and applied linguistics research on the media develops
internationally, then the mutual benefits of a link with documentary studies should not be
overlooked.
References
Corner,J. (1996) The Art of Record: a critical introduction to documentary. Manchester: Manchester
University Press.
Corner, J. (1991) (ed.) Documentary and the Mass Media. London: Edward Arnold.
Corner, J., Richardson, K. and Fenton, N. (1990) Nuclear Reactions: form and address in public issue
television. John Libbey.
Meinhof, U. and Richardson, K. (eds) (1994) Text, Discourse and Context: representations of poverty in
Britain. London: Longman.
Nichols,B. (1991) Representing Reality. Indiana: Indiana University Press.
Paget, 1). (1990) True Stories? Documentary Drama on Radio, Screen and Stage. Manchester: Manchester
University Press.
Renou, M. (1993) (ed.) Theorising Documentary. London: Routledge. Scannell, V (1991) (ed.) Broadcast Talk.
London: Sage.
Sandford, J. (1976) Cathy Come Home. London: Marion Boyars.
Silverstone, R. (1985) Framing Science: the making of a BBC documentary. London: British Film Institute.
Winston, B. (1995) Claiming the Real. London: British Film Institute.
68
Cultural aspects of genre knowledge
Thomas Huckin
University of Utah
Abstract
This article argues that cultural factors play a major role in the real-world deployment of
genres. A variety of genre-related studies in the applied linguistics literature are surveyed,
showing how more than 20 discoursal features are sensitive to cultural factors. It is argued
that highly context-sensitive methodologies are needed to adequately account for such
features. This point is illustrated with special reference to textual silence, an often
overlooked aspect of genre knowledge.
Introduction
In the efflorescence of genre studies during the past decade, perhaps the most salient
common denominator is the recognition that genres are not static and immutable but
rather are dynamic, flexible, and rhetorically manipulable. This insight, first articulated by
Carolyn Miller in her celebrated 1984 essay, Genre as Social Action, put the study of genre
within the broader social constructivist framework that has become dominant in applied
discourse studies. Carol Berkenkotter and I have summarized the main principles of this view
as follows:
1
Dynamism Genres are dynamic rhetorical forms that are developed from
actors' responses to recurrent situations and that serve to stabilize experience
and give it coherence and meaning. Genres change over time in response to
their users' sociocognitive needs.
2
Situatedness Our knowledge of genres is derived from and embedded in our
participation in the communicative activities of daily and professional life. As
such, genre knowledge is a form of Âsituated cognition' that continues to
develop as we participate in the activities of the ambient culture.
3
Duality of structure As we draw on genre rules to engage in professional
activities, we constitute-social structures (in professional, institutional, and
organizational contexts) and simultaneously reproduce these structures.
4
Community ownership Genre conventions signal a discourse community's
norms, epistemology, ideology, and social ontology.
69
5
Form and content Genre knowledge embraces both form and content,
including a sense of what content is appropriate to a particular purpose in a
particular situation at a particular point in time (Berkenkotter and Huckin,
chapter 1).
An important thread that runs through these five principles is the role played by Âculture' in
the use, interpretation, and evolution of genres. (I am defining culture broadly here to mean
the customary beliefs, social forms, and material traits of an identifiable group. Thus it can
be applied as narrowly as the Âculture' of a certain English department or as broadly as
ÂWestern culture'.) Culture can obviously be found in recurrent situations (principle 1), in the
communicative activities of daily and professional life (principle 2), in social structures in
professional, institutional, and organizational contexts (principle 3), and in a discourse
community's norms, epistemology, ideology, and social ontology (principle 4). It follows that
culture manifests itself as well in the form and content of genre knowledge, that is, in
principle 5. To quote Freedman, Adam, and Smart: ÂThe nature of the institutional context
necessarily and inevitably shapes the writing in ways that cannot be altered' (p.221). My
purpose in this article is to illustrate ways in which this happens. I will base my argument on
studies of a variety of genres, including some that involve cross-linguistic differences and
others that do not.
Request letters Request letters are usually routine requests for information, and therefore
should be handled in routine fashion. In American culture, this means going straight to the
point and not making the letter unnecessarily personal. Yet, in a study of 168 routine
letters of inquiry sent by native speakers (NSs) and non-native speakers (NNSs) to an
American university, Brenda Sims found that many of the NNS letters contained
unnecessary personal information, were excessively long, and had a tone of exaggerated
courtesy, with sentences like, ÂI humbly request you to take into consideration my ardent
desire to continue my studies.' Sinis attributed these practices to cultural differences. The
writers of these letters seemed to think they had to persuade the reader to comply, not
realizing that the reader was more or less obliged to.
Submission letters Submission letters, also known as cover letters or letters of transmittal,
are letters that accompany an article being submitted for publication. Like request letters,
they are considered to be a routine, simple form of correspondence in Anglo-American
culture, normally consisting of only a few sentences. John Swales, drawing on a corpus of
65 letters submitted to an applied linguistics journal, recently analysed the differences
between those written by NSs and those written by NNSs. He found that the NNS letters
tended to be more elaborated than the NS ones (3.7 components versus 3.0). Specifically,
they were more likely to include a Âsales pitch' of some kind, via a commentary on the
paper, a statement of advocacy, a description of the author's academic credentials, a
referral from a well-known figure in the field, and/or pressure for a quick response. Also,
they tended to be written in a more formal style (e.g. Please find enclosed instead of simply
I enclose) and tended to express personal
hopes or wishes for success (e.g. I do hope it twill be of interest to readers of your journal).
Swales suggests that there is a cultural explanation for these differences but does not
speculate further.
Letters of apology Another letter genre that has been studied for NS-NNS differences is
70
the letter of apology. In an exploratory study, Paula Maier had 18 business students and
professionals write a letter of apology for missing a fictitious job interview. The eight NSs
were found to rely mainly on negative politeness strategies such as mitigation, indirectness,
and deference, while the ten NNSs (mostly Japanese males) relied mainly on riskier positive
strategies involving more interest, directness, and optimism. For example, a typical NS
statement was quite deferential and pessimistic ('I would be very grateful if, under the
circumstances, you would grant me another interview') while a typical NNS statement was
more aggressive and optimistic ('I hope to have the opportunity to discuss this matter with
you soon. If I haven't heard from your office by tomorrow, I'll call to check the status of my
application.'). Maier implies that these differences are due to cultural factors, though she is
uncertain whether the NNSs were simply drawing on their own cultural norms or were
trying to emulate the perceived norms of the NS culture.
Promotional letters Sales promotion letters, as described in Bhatia (1993), have four basic
parts: (1) Establishing credentials, (2) Introducing the product or service, (3) Offering
incentives, and (4) Soliciting a response. Teh did a study in Singapore in which sales
promotion letters written by local companies were compared to those written by Western
multinationals. She found that multinationals used part 1, ÂEstablishing credentials,' far more
often than did local companies (95 per cent versus 68 per cent), and that local companies
preferred to rely more on part 3, ÂOffering incentives'. Teh attributed this finding to the
fact that local companies generally do not have the impressive credentials possessed by the
multinational corporations and therefore must compensate by offering special incentives.
Thus, although both groups were using the same genre in a formal sense, local realities
caused them to implement it with different content.
Job application letters Similar to sales promotion letters are job application letters. Indeed,
Faigley, citing a standard business writing textbook, notes that Âto be a successful job
hunter, you must analyse yourself as a Âproduct' and Ânote how the product fits the market
for which you are preparing your application' (Faigley, 1992:142). This can be seen in the
opening paragraph of a typical job application letter:
A comprehensive educational program in accounting at the University of Hawaii,
leading to a Bachelor of Science in Accounting degree, is an important qualification
for beginning work in your firm. In addition, I offer competence, dedication, and
ambition. (Faigley, 1992:142)
As Faigley notes, the writer:
completely effaces himself in the first sentence, referring to himself as a degree in
accounting. In the next sentence he adds features to the product: Âcompetence,'
Âdedication,' and Âambition.' To what these features refer is not recoverable... The
writer chose these features because they are valued in capitalist discourse. They
indicate that [the writer] will be both suitably aggressive and at the same time, a
Âteam player'.
Suppressing self-reference in a letter of application, therefore, is not a matter of
stylistic preference, nor is genre-specific advice ideologically innocent. [The writer] is
subsumed by rather than the shaper of his
71
language. (Faigley, 1992:142)
In contrast to this Anglo-American approach, Bhatia notes that in South Asia, job letters are
used mainly as simple letters of transmittal for the c.v. rather than as opportunities for selfappraisal and salesmanship. In cases where the writer does try to add some persuasive
comments, these comments usually express self-glorification, adversary-glorification, or selfdegradation rather than self-appraisal supported by evidence. Here is an example:
I am enclosing my brief 'Bio-data' for your kind consideration and confirmation. I
request you kindly give me a chance to serve your esteemed organization. I assure
you, Sir, I can prove worth of your selection by hard work and devotion to duties.
(Bhatia, 1993:71)
Bhatia attributes these rhetorical strategies to the economic and social inequality that
pervades countries like India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh, remarking that it is
perhaps a natural consequence of too much economic dependence on the developed countries.' As
this inequality is particularly evident in job negotiations, applicants try to invoke the employer's
sense of compassion rather than an objective appraisal of their credentials.
Job interviews A related genre is the job interview, which Akinnaso and Seabrook Ajirotutu
describe as 'by far the most formalized and perhaps the most crucial faceto-face encounter
in ethnically mixed industrial societies' (1982:120). Structurally, the job interview as a genre
is easy to describe. It typically has an opening section with greetings and introduction. It
then moves on to the main interview, with background questions, job-related questions, and
skill-related questions, in that order. Then it has a closing part. The interviewer of course
enjoys a great advantage in power and is able to direct the conversation, ask almost any
question, interrupt at will, and so on. All of this is usually well understood by all participants.
The difference between a successful job interview and an unsuccessful one, therefore,
resides more in the subtle inferential work that goes on. According to Akinnaso and
Seabrook Ajirotutu, this can be broken down into three major parameters:
(1) Stylistic expectations. Which conventionalized surface signs are used to signal
what intention? (2) Content: What is the general meaning of what is said as signalled
by linguistic and paralinguistic cues? and (3) Underlying patterns: What body of
knowledge of social structures is needed to infer what an interview utterance Âreally'
means or signifies? (Akinnaso and Seabrook Ajirotutu, 1982:120)
They illustrate these points through simulated job interviews given to 12 AfricanAmerican
students of a job training program in California. For example, the following extract,
involving a job in a library, illustrates a failure on the part of the applicant to ',infer the real
content of the interviewer's question:
I: What about the library interests you most?
A: What about the library in terms of the books? or the whole building? I: Any point
that you'd like to...
A: Oh, the children's books, because I have a child, and the children. . you know there's
so many you know books for them to read you know, and little things that would
interest them would interest me too. (Akinnaso
72
and Seabrook Ajirotutu, 1982:124)
The underlying meaning of the interviewer's question is, ÂIn what way do you think you're
particularly well qualified for this job?' The applicant's failure to pick up on this meaning
causes her to make an inappropriate and therefore damaging response.
Akinnaso and Seabrook Ajirotutu attribute such failures to what Gumperz has called
contextualization cues, or surface cues that signal interpretative frames. ÂIn the job
interview,' they state, Âwhere the focus is more on the outcome of the encounter,
miscommunication and negative evaluation often arise when participants do not share the
same cultural and linguistic background, and therefore use different strategies to signal
"interpretative frames".' (1982:124)
Academic essays The academic essay is another genre that is highly sensitive to cultural
constraints, as has been demonstrated in a number of studies going back to Kaplan's
pioneering work in the late 1960s. Robert Bickner and Patcharin Peyasantiwong provide a
more recent example in their 1988 study comparing reflective essays written on the same
topic by 50 Thai secondary students (in Thai) and 40 American secondary students (in
English). The topic was, ÂMany young people today find it difficult to talk to and understand
middle-aged people,' and the students' task was to Âwrite an essay in which you reflect on
this statement and state your own viewpoint.' Bickner and Peyasantiwong found that the
Thai students strove to give a balanced perspective, offering explanations and advice
designed to benefit both young people and adults. By contrast, the American students
focused primarily on the teen point of view and seldom considered the adult perspective.
Furthermore, the American essays typically ended with predictions for the future,
statements of implications, and so on, while the Thai essays steadfastly refrained from any
such speculation. Stylistically, too, there were clear differences. The Thai essays tended to
be written in an impersonal, formal style while the American ones were often written in a
conversational style featuring both slang and formal vocabulary. Bickner and
Peyasantiwong attribute these findings to cultural differences, but they are uncertain as to
whether these differences emerge from classroom instruction or from the social context.
Academic research reports At a higher level of expertise and technicality is the academic
research report, a genre that frequently exposes cultural differences because so many
academic researchers from around the world are now writing their reports in a second
language. Anna Mauranen's small case study of metatext in economics papers (Mauranen,
1993) is a good example. Using two papers written in English by Finnish researchers and two
by Anglo-American researchers, she was able to point out clear differences in the use of
text connectives, attitude markers, commentaries, code glosses, and other metatextual
elements, with the Anglo-Americans using them far more heavily than the Finns. Mauranen
considers these findings to be reflective of a cultural predilection whereby Anglo-American
writers use positive politeness and explicit textual rhetoric to guide the reader through the
text. Finnish writers, in contrast, prefer to use negative politeness and leave things more
implicit. Judging whether a text is Âsuccessful' or not, depends on what sort of cultural filter
it's seen through.
Mine safety manuals Another good example of the role played by culture in the
implementation of genre can be found in Beverly Sauer's recent cross-cultural analysis of
mine safety manuals. In underground coal mining, a major safety problem concerns the
integrity of tunnel roofs; every year many coal miners are killed from tunnel cave-
73
ins. Sauer and a British colleague compared a standard American introductory manual on
roof control with a standard British one, both manuals centred around a description of how
to place bolts properly in layers of rock so as to prevent cave-ins. They found that the USA
manual depicts roof bolting in purely technological terms, as being similar to ordinary wall
anchors used in the home. The manual has a tone of certainty throughout, as if there were
no reasonable alternatives to roof bolting and no serious risks in it. (Note: The USA accident
rate is three times that of the British.) It implicitly holds the miners responsible for their
own safety, on the assumption that if they install the bolts properly, they will be safe. By
contrast, the British manual takes a broader perspective, discussing alternative methods
and mentioning the pros and cons of each. It states that no single method is appropriate
for all situations, and it thereby includes management in the decision-making and
responsibility about how best to shore up tunnels.
Sauer notes that the British manual reflects political and economic factors as well as
technical ones, while the American manual reveals Âan absence of political and economic
cynicism and a trust in technology that fails to question either the scientific basis of the
technical practice or its economic objective in the workplace' (1996:308). She concludes
that:
Political knowledge and local experience influence how writers construct safety
training manuals and how workers interpret and apply safety training in the
workplace. By comparing the knowledges available in a culture and - more generally by constructing a model of available knowledges, we can assess which knowledges
are excluded and which are included. (Sauer, 1996:326)
Conference abstracts As we all know, the academy has cultures and subcultures of its own.
Thus it is no surprise to find that academic genres are sensitive to cultural influences as
well. This can be seen clearly in a series of studies of abstracts submitted to the Conference
on College Composition and Communication. (CCCC) In all of these studies, the mark of a
successful abstract seemed to be its 'interestingness' to members of the discourse
community hosting the conference. Troyka, for example, noted that as conference chair,
she found abstracts Âmost compelling when characterized by clarity of ideas coupled with a
sense of where those ideas fit, or do not fit, in relation to the mainstream of current
thinking on the subject. The weakest proposals unavoidably elicited the thought, "Where
have you been all these years?"' (1980:229)
Several years ago I did a more systematic analysis of 441 abstracts submitted to the
same conference a decade later, during the years 1988-1992 (see Berkenkotter and Huckin,
1995). Some of these abstracts had been successful in gaining a place on the conference
program, others had not. I too found that 'interestingness' was the key criterion for
acceptability, and I was able to give it a more specific characterization than had Troyka.
Specifically, I found that the high-rated abstracts all addressed a problem that was seen by
insiders as interesting and timely, and they discussed the problem in a novel way.
Furthermore, these high-rated abstracts usually projected more of an insider ethos than did
the low-rated ones, by using jargon, specialized topoi, and/or explicit or implicit references
to the literature of the field.
In a recent follow-up study using the same corpus, Faber (1996) went into even more
detail regarding the interrelationship of insider status and interestingness. For example, he
found that during this four-year period, those abstracts that eschewed a foundational
epistemic voice in favor of a more post-structuralist one, had an
74
increasingly better chance of acceptance. He also noticed that 'expansionary' abstracts,
that is, those that attempted to link the field of rhetoric and composition to other fields,
usually received favorable ratings as well.
What emerges from these studies is a sense that this particular discourse community of
college writing teachers constitutes a culture of sorts; one in which the more central
members (the insiders) make use of their cultural knowledge to gain advantage over those
on the periphery. The quality of 'interestingness' is determined by gatekeepers who are
attuned to the current beliefs and social forms of the in-group. The insider/outsider
dichotomy is further reinforced by the fact that the CCCC abstract is an Âoccluded genre'
(Swales, 1996), that is, a genre where learners have little or no access to exemplars. Since
CCCC abstracts are not published, novices can only make blind guesses about what to
include and what not to include in their own submissions; thus they are at a distinct
disadvantage compared to the more experienced members.
Mission statements Another genre sensitive to cultural constraints is the corporate mission
statement. Mission statements are short public relations documents that companies use to
try to promote corporate loyalty among their employees, shareholders, customers, and
other members of the corporate Âfamily.' In a series of recent case studies, Swales and
Rogers have shown how mission statements are crafted according to a company's particular
interests and are sometimes altered when those needs and interests change. For example,
the Honeywell Corporation issued a mission statement in 1974 that began:
Honeywell is an international corporation whose goal is to work together with
customers to develop and apply advanced technologies through products, systems,
services, which in turn serve primarily to improve productivity, conserve resources
and meet aerospace and defense needs... (Swales and Rogers, 1995)
In 1986, facing a financial crisis, it issued a revised mission statement which begins as
follows:
Honeywell. We are a publicly owned, global enterprise in business to provide control
components, products systems and services. These are for homes and buildings,
aviation and space, industrial processes and for application in manufactured goods...
(Swales and Rogers, 1995)
Swales and Rogers note that the less formal syntax, the use of the first person plural
pronoun, the replacement of a phrase life international corporation with global enterprise,
and so on, all reflect deliberate strategic choices that emerged out of a 'bottom-up'
collaborative process carried out within all ranks of the corporation.
Face-to-face business negotiations In our increasingly globalized economy, cross-cultural
business negotiations are becoming more and more common and important. Garcez (1993)
presents a Âmicro ethnographic study' of two American and two Brazilian businessmen
engaged in an actual face-to-face negotiation over a business contract. Though they were
all adhering to the same genre, they operationalized it differently. Not surprisingly, the two
Americans were straight to the point while the two Brazilians proceeded more indirectly.
Garcez attributes these differing styles to cultural differences, with the Americans favoring
a direct, self-explanatory style of
75
communication and the Brazilians preferring a style more conducive to interactional
involvement. ÂStyle' in this case refers not only to the words and phrases chosen but to the
entire manner in which the conversation proceeded, not unlike that of the famous
Thanksgiving dinner described in Tannen (1984).
Summary of features
The features emphasized by the researchers in this brief survey can be summarized as
follows:
1 amount of personal information
(request letters)
2 degree of courtesy
(request letters)
3 level of formality
(submission letter, academic essays)
4 amount of salesmanship
(submission letters, job letters)
5 type of politeness emphasized
(apology letters, academic reports)
6 ethos/voice
(conference abstracts,
mission statements)
7 amount of speculation
(academic essays)
8 point of view
(academic essays)
9 degree of self-reference
(job letters)
10 breadth of perspective
(mine safety manuals)
11 Âinterestingness'
(conference abstracts)
12 tone of certainty/uncertainty
(mine safety manuals)
13 foregrounding
(mission statements)
14 pointmaking styles
(business negotiations,
academic reports)
15 different emphasis on moves
(promotional letters)
16 inferential strategies
(job interviews)
17 interpretative frames
(job interviews)
18 use of metatext
(academic reports)
19 length
(request letters)
20 syntax
(mission statements)
21 word choice
(mission statements)
This is quite a varied list, going far beyond a simple calculation of pauses, turns, T - units,
and the like. The kinds of features we see here are complex, sometimes difficult to define,
and, for the most part, unquantifiable. And yet it is precisely these kinds of features that
seem to be most illuminating in showing how culture influences genre knowledge and genre
use.
The need for
for more contextcontext-sensitive methodologies
This being the case, I would like to argue, with Swales and Rogers, that applied linguists and
genre analysts need to embrace more appropriate methodologies for such studies than
many of us are currently doing. That is, we need to use more comprehensive, contextsensitive, and qualitative methods of discourse analysis. Most of the studies I have cited,
despite considerable cultural awareness and insight on the part of the researchers, do not
really succeed in capturing an insider<s view of the cultural manipulations involved in the
use of genre. Too many of them are confined to textual analysis, with the analyst being
forced to hazard mere guesses as to what the textual evidence means for those who
actually use the genre in real life. For example, in Sims' study of request letters, she used a
fairly large corpus (168 letters) and gave it
76
close scrutiny, but by relying only on the written texts and not on any other sources of
data, all she could do was point out certain broad differences between the NS versions and
the NNS versions and then speculate on the reasons behind these differences. Likewise, in
Bickner and Peyasantiwong<s comparative study of academic essays written by Thai and
American teenagers, they gathered only textual evidence and no other kind. Consequently,
they could only make broad generalizations and draw speculative conclusions about their
findings. Significantly, they could not even make a guess as to whether the apparently
culture-based differences they observed resulted from classroom instruction or from the
larger social context. Many other examples can be found as well, especially among older
studies.
In contrast, there are several more recent studies in my survey that embody the sorts of
multidimensional, qualitative methodologies that I think are needed if we are to better
appreciate the cultural aspects of genre use. For example, in their study of corporate
mission statements, Swales and Rogers make a point of going beyond their basic study
corpus. In addition to closely analyzing the three mission statements, they studied company
history, collected a wide range of documents, searched the business press, made site-visits,
and talked to several key insiders. They had hoped as well to interview groups of
employees, but were prevented from doing so by higher-ups in the company. In addition,
simply by bringing together their respective skills as an applied linguist and a management
communication specialist, Swales and Rogers were no doubt able to enrich their
interpretation of the material.
In similar fashion, Sauer studied mine safety manuals through a multifaceted prism. She
and her British colleague examined a broad range of documents going well beyond those
pertaining only to underground coal mining. They looked at local newspapers and magazines
and interviewed some miners and other locals to get a sense of political and social issues as
well. Only in this way could they perceive subtle cultural factors underlying the different
manifestations of the genre. Indeed, they were even able to detect things that weren't
there, that is, what might be called textual Âsilences.' Specifically, the American manual
omitted mention of various alternatives to roof bolting, thereby lulling its readers into a
false sense of security.
Textual silences
I think this general phenomenon of textual silences, what Teun van Dijk has called Âthe
unsaid,' deserves more than just passing comment. As applied linguists, we tend naturally to
focus our attention on what is said or written. In some cases we may even extend our
analyses to graphics or other semiotic symbols. But as we all know from personal lived
experience, much of the communication that takes place in everyday life is not articulated
as such but occurs in implicit, unspoken ways. Indeed, this is one of the benefits of
Âbelonging to a culture': one doesn't need to spell out everything one means.
But this means that some of the most culture-specific aspects of communication are also
some of the least explicit ones, textual silence being the quintessential case. Those of us
interested in the cultural aspects of genre study would do well, therefore, to include
textual silence in the list of features to be analysed. And the opportunities are there, as I
will illustrate in just one brief example. In most cultures, the resume is supposed to contain
a job seeker's most significant biographical information, including not only educational and
employment history but also personal data such as age, marital status, military service, and
so on. In some cases, even height, weight, religious affiliation, ethnicity, race, and other
such information are expected. In the USA,
77
however, such highly personal data is normally omitted on grounds that it should play no
part in a hiring decision. This reflects, of course, the various sociopolitical battles that have
been fought in the USA in recent decades over various forms of discrimination, including
civil rights, women's rights, religious freedom, age discrimination, and so on. Thus, a job
seeker who included such information on his or her resume would probably be seen as
something of an outsider or at least as someone who is not in tune with the norms of
mainstream American culture. Conversely, the omission of such information would probably
be seen as an indicator of cultural knowledge. It would be difficult, it seems to me, for a
discourse analyst who is not intimately familiar with American culture to look at examples
of American resumes and interpret these Âsilences' for what they are. I know that bright
graduate students who teach in Holland, fluent in English, and also somewhat familiar with
American culture, are invariably puzzled by the terseness of American resumes. In short, it
requires insider knowledge to grasp the meaning of culturally-based silences.
Conclusion
This article has argued that cultural knowledge is a crucial factor in the effective
implementation of genres. In part, this means that the appropriate use of genres is
fundamentally rhetorical in that it relies on proper analysis of and adaptation to one's
audience. One way of conceptualizing this is to separate genre and rhetoric into two
domains, with only the latter reflecting cultural knowledge. In her study of metatext, for
example, Mauranen writes: ÂIf we draw a distinction between genre and rhetoric, it can be
argued that aspects of academic writing which tend to be universal are conditioned by
genre, while the more variable aspects fall under the domain of rhetoric' (1993:4). These
variable aspects, in her view, are largely 'culture-driven. ' ÂThis view of genre and rhetoric,'
she adds, Âthen postulates rhetoric as separate from genre, but limited by it. Genre
constrains rhetorical choices, and in this sense logically precedes rhetoric' (1993:5).
But Mauranen's conception retains the traditional notion of genre as a relatively stable
entity. An alternative view, one that has been gaining popularity since Miller's pathbreaking
1984 article, proposes instead that genres be seen as Âdynamic rhetoricals forms'
(Berkenkotter and Huckin, 1995:4). This view breaks down the distinction between genre
and rhetoric, focusing less on genre-as-formal-object and more on genre-as-rhetorical-site, a
place where rhetorical activity is directed to a particular audience for a particular purpose.
According to this view, genres are quite flexible; they are responsive to the rhetorical
demands of particular situations. And inasmuch as particular situations invoke culturespecific features, genres themselves are culturesensitive. This view explains, among other
things, how Âgenres change over time in response to their users' sociocognitive needs'
(1995:4).
In either case, though, whether it be a more traditional view of genre or a more dynamic
one, it seems clear that true genre knowledge includes rhetorical knowledge, which
necessarily includes cultural knowledge. Those of us who are exploring this rich new
territory should always keep this in mind.
78
References
Akinnaso, EN. and Ajirotutu, C.S. (1982) Performance and ethnic style in job interviews. In J.
Gumperz (ed.) Language and Social Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Berkenkotter, C. and
Huckin,T (1995) Genre Knowledge in Disciplinary Communication. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Bhatia,V (1993) Analysing Genre. London: Longman.
Bickner, R_ and Peyasantiwong, P. (1988) Cultural variation in reflective writing. In A. Purves (ed.) Writing
across Languages and Cultures: issues in contrastive rhetoric. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
Faber, B. (1996) Rhetoric in competition. Written Communication 13,2:355-84.
Faigley, L. (1992) Fragments of Rationality. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press. Freedman, A.,
Adam, C. and Smart, G. (1994) Wearing suits to class: simulating genres and simulations as genre.
Written Communication 11,2:193-226.
Garcez, P (1993) Point-making styles in cross-cultural business communication: A micro ethnographic
study. ESPJournal 12:103-20.
Hanson,A. (1996) Whatever happened to the traditional resume? Preparing students for an electronic job
search. ATTW Bulletin 6,2:4-6.
Maier, P (1992) Politeness strategies in business letters by native and non-native English speakers.
ESPJournal 11,3:189-206.
Mauranen,A. (1993) Contrastive ESP rhetoric: metatext in Finnish and English economics texts. ESP
Journal 12,1: 3-22.
Popken, R. (1993) An empirical study of indirect speech acts in resumes. ESP Journal 12,3:239-49.
Sauer, B. (1996) Communicating risk in a cross-cultural context: a cross-cultural comparison of rhetorical
and social understandings in U.S. and British mine safety training programs. Written Communication,
10,3:306-29.
Sims, B. (1989) Discourse Community and Business Communication: problems in international business
letters. Paper presented at the 1989 Conference on College Composition and Communication, Seattle.
Swales, J. (1990) Genre Analysis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Swales, J. (1996) Occluded genres in the academy: the case of the submission letter. In E. Ventola and A.
Maurenen, Academic Writing: intercultural and textual issues. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John
Benjamins.
Swales, J. and Rogers, P (1995) Discourse and the projection of corporate culture: the mission statement.
Discourse and Society 6,2:223-42.
Troyka, L.Q. (1980) Pulse of the profession. College Composition and Communication 31:227-31.
79
Communication and learning strategies for translators
Andrew Chesterman
University of Helsinki
Abstract
The concept of a strategy has been used in several contexts in applied linguistics. This
paper looks at communication strategies, learning strategies, and translation strategies, and
considers how various classifications of these can be related. It argues that both
communication and learning strategies are highly relevant to translators, and hence also to
the training of translators.
Introduction
Introduction - strategies in error analysis
The first uses of the concept of strategy appear in work on error analysis in the early
1970s. A dominant theme at that time was the argument between the behaviourists, who
argued that the prime cause of error was interference (negative transfer), and the
cognitivists, who argued that the prime causes lay elsewhere, in the natural cognitive
developmental processes of the second-language learner. One of the key contributions was
Selinker's (1972) 'Interlanguage' paper, which proposed five explanations for observed
interlanguage behaviour (including errors). He called these explanations central processes' in
second-language learning. These were: (1) language transfer, (2) transfer of training, (3)
strategies of second-language learning, (4) strategies of second language communication,
and (5) overgeneralization of target-language linguistic material. Selinker suggested that
each of these processes could lead to the 'fossilization' of second-language material, and
hence to errors or non-native features of the target language. Selinker thus sought to
combine insights from both behaviourists and cognitivists, looking for some kind of middle
ground.
The third and fourth of his suggested processes both introduce the notion of a strategy.
Selinker acknowledged that this was not a well-defined concept in psychology. Some learner
strategies might be culture -specific (such as the use of chanting and rote learning); learning
strategies can also evolve over time, within the same learner. One example that has been
suggested of a fairly universal learning strategy is simplification: learners tend to simplify
aspects of the target language, for example by dropping articles in English. However, other
scholars have classified simplification as a communication strategy rather than a learning
one (see e.g. Selinker himself, 1972); in fact, as we shall see, there is considerable overlap
between learning and communicative strategies. Indeed, Selinker admitted that it is not
always possible to attribute a given observed feature of an interlanguage to one particular
causal process rather than another. More recently, research on learning strategies has
focused on identifying characteristics of good learners (see below).
80
Another important early influence was the work of Varadi ([1973] 1980). He reported on
experiments investigating the language performance of Hungarian speakers who were
asked to describe a series of pictures in both Hungarian and English. Varadi assumed that
their Hungarian versions represented what they wanted to communicate, their Âintended
meaning', and he then looked at the various kinds of adjustments and reductions that took
place in their English versions. His data were thus, in fact, translations, and he was actually
doing a kind of translation assessment, with the native-language version of the message
representing the source text. The ideal optimal message was taken to be Âthe same' in both
languages; what Varadi was interested in was deviations from this assumed sameness. Such
deviations either concerned the meaning selected (some elements were omitted or reduced
in the English versions), or the form of expression (use of paraphrase, simplification etc.).
We might question Varadi's initial assumption that both messages would optimally be Âthe
same', but it is interesting that his research method for investigating communicative
strategies relies heavily on translation. The same basic methodology has since been used by
several other scholars. We can thus expect to find more overlaps, this time between
communicative and translation strategies. Much of the subsequent research on
communicative strategies has focused on setting up taxonomies of these strategies.
Communication strategies and learning strategies
Communication strategies are typically defined as potentially conscious plans for solving
particular communication problems, as experienced by the individual concerned (see e.g.
Faerch and Kasper, 1980:60). Specifically, they have to do with problems experienced by
people when speaking or writing a second or foreign language, and they have mostly
concerned production rather than comprehension. Classifications of these strategies vary,
but a general distinction is made between reduction strategies (also known as avoidance,
message adjustment, or risk avoidance strategies) and achievement strategies (otherwise
referred to as resource expansion, risk-taking, or compensatory strategies).
Reduction strategies are those which involve a change or reduction of the message, the
intended meaning itself, in some way. Commonly cited types are the following (for more
details and e.g. see Tarone, 1977; Poulisse et at., 1984; Faerch and Kasper, 1983a):
topic avoidance
message abandonment in mid-stream
message reduction (to something vaguer)
meaning replacement / semantic avoidance
Achievement strategies, on the other hand, are attempts to preserve the intended meaning
but adjust the means of expression. Some are intralingual, some interlingual, and some
extralinguistic.They include the following (ibid.):
paraphrase
approximation
generalization
circumlocution
lexical substitution
word coinage
restructuring
81
language switch, transfer from L1 or another language
literal translation from L1 or another language
foreignizing (transfer of L1 term with L2 pronunciation)
non-linguistic means, such as mime
cooperative strategies, such as appeal for assistance, admission of ignorance, request
for confirmation
Attention has been drawn to the fact that both kinds of strategies are not in fact specific
to language-learners, but are very similar to those used by native speakers when faced with
a communication task for which they feel they lack adequate means (such as describing
strange abstract shapes). Bongaerts and Poulisse (1989) argue that L1 researchers have
tended to classify strategies at the cognitive level, whereas L2 research has produced
taxonomies that are more based on linguistic surface features; this obscures the similarities
between the two processes. For instance, Dutch learners of English and native English
speakers both tend to prefer holistic conceptual strategies (involving lexical substitution or
approximation) when faced with certain problems in referential communication.
Research on aphasic communication can also be referred to in this context:
communication problems here have different sources, true, but the strategies adopted
seem similar. Klippi (1996), for example, looks at the ways in which aphasic patients resort
to extralinguistic means when they are stuck for a word (such as mime or pencil-and-paper);
how they initiate repairs (an appeal for assistance from the comprehension point of view, in
a group discussion); and how they use uninflected single words (a kind of lexical
approximation or formal reduction).
In all three fields (L2, L1, and aphasia), similar Âsignals of uncertainty' are used to identify
the presence of a strategy: signals such as hesitation, self-repair, slips, temporal and other
prosodic variables (see Faerch and Kasper, 1983b).
Learning strategies, on the other hand, are roughly defined as the methods people use to
help them learn new information. In applied linguistics, the research focus has been on the
methods used by language learners in order to achieve linguistic and sociolinguistic
competence in the foreign language. Researchers have been particularly interested in the
different strategies used by successful learners, as opposed to those used by less
successful ones. Some of these are metacognitive, some are cognitive, and some are social
or affective. They include the following (see Naiman et al. 1978; Rubin, 1981, and especially
O'Malley and Chamot, 1990):
creating own opportunities for practice
monitoring own production
asking for clarification
guessing, inferencing
constant testing of inferences, self-evaluation
rehearsal (repetitive practice)
use of circumlocution, synonyms, cognates
analytical comparison with L1
both deductive and inductive reasoning
analysis of problems
use of formulaic courtesy phrases etc.
positive attitude to own mistakes
imagery (using visual images to support understanding or retention)
82
cooperation (working with peers)
self-talk ('using mental redirection of thinking' for self-assurance or anxiety
reduction)
Research findings so far suggest that successful learners use a wider variety of these
strategies, and use them more frequently, for all four language skills, than less successful
learners (O'Malley and Chamot, 1990:222).
Translation strategies
In translation theory, the study of strategies arrives most explicitly with the interest in
research on think-aloud protocols in the 1980s: what actually goes on in the translator's
head, as Krings (1986) put it. Work on translation strategies has been partly based on the
kind of research on communication and (to a lesser extent) learning strategies mentioned
above, and partly on taxonomies of translation shifts. The two approaches have not yet
joined hands.
A commonly cited definition of a translation strategy in the communication tradition
runs as follows (Lörscher, 1991:76): Âa translation strategy is a potentially conscious
procedure for the solution of a problem which an individual is faced with when translating a
text segment from one language into another'. The definition is close to that of Faerch and
Kasper for communication strategies, referred to above. Strategy identification signals (i.e.
signals pointing to the presence of a problem) are also similar, as found in think-aloud
protocols.
Lörscher takes a psychological approach rather than a linguistic one; his translation
strategies are complex behavioural sequences of what he calls Âelements'. These elements
include:
realization of a problem
verbalization of a problem
search for a solution
finding a preliminary solution or part of a solution
finding no solution
monitoring source or target text segments
rephrasing source or target text segments
checking a preliminary solution
mental organization of source or target text segments
comment on a text segment
transposition (reordering target text segments)
translation of a text segment
organization of translational discourse (metadiscoursal)
These elements are then combined into five Âbasic strategies' plus additional expanded and
complex ones. His five basic translation strategies could be summarized as follows:
Instant solution (or instant realisation that a solution is not immediately at hand)
Search for solution (found, or not)
Verbalization of problem, followed by solution (or no solution) Further search for
solution (found, or not)
Partial solution (accepted, or not) + further partial solution
A different approach to translation strategies, with different terminology (and not
83
traditionally using the term Âstrategy'), is the linguistic one deriving from the work of Nida,
Catford, Vinay and Darbelnet, and others in the 1960s. They set up various categories to
analyse linguistic differences between source and target texts. These classifications of
shifts, changes or transfer procedures primarily relate to the resulting translation products,
of course; but we can also infer from them various hypotheses about typical (successful)
translation behaviour. That is, we can also see them as representing various translational
problem-solving strategies (indeed, Vinay and Darbelnet specifically claimed that they were
seeking to follow the mind of the translator in the passage from one language to another).
At the simplest level, faced with a translational problem, the most general strategy
employed by a translator could be stated as: Âif stuck, change something'. Nida (e.g.
1964:226f.) discussed basic types of change such as addition, subtraction and alteration
(change of order or structure). Catford (1965) listed various kinds of shifts that could be
formulated as:
change the word class
change the clause structure
change the unit (word, phrase, clause...) etc.
Vinay and Darbelnet ([1958] 1969) proposed seven Âprocedures':
borrowing
calque
literal (grammatical) translation
transposition (change of word class)
modulation (change of semantic point of view)
total change of structure (their term was Âequivalence')
adaptation
Other more general classifications of this kind have distinguished between syntactic
(changes of grammatical form), semantic (changes of meaning, such as use of superordinates or hyponyms, modulations of various kinds, etc.), and pragmatic strategies
(changes in the way the message is adapted to a new readership, such as addition, omission,
explicitation, implicitation, foreignization versus domestication, etc.). (See Chesterman,
1997: chapter 4; also Newmark, 1988: chapter 8.)
Such changes thus represent linguistic rather than psycholinguistic strategies: they
describe operations performed by the translator upon linguistic material in order to arrive
at an acceptable target version. Insofar as these various linguistic strategies are frequently
used by professional translators, they represent well-tried ways of solving various types of
translation problems.
Kussmaul's (1995) strategies for solving translation problems are a mixture of both the
above types. Sonic are psychological/cognitive creative strategies, having to do with
divergent thinking, inferencing and so on, and others are specific search strategies, general
bits of linguistic advice (analysis of textual and stylistic features, use of componential
analysis, analysis of illocutionary force, etc.).
Strategies for good translators?
Most of the above approaches are based on some notion of action theory, either implicitly
or explicitly (Faerch and Kasper are the most explicit in this respect). Action theory sees
communication, learning and translation as kinds of actions. An action is understood as a
goal-oriented (or skopos-oriented) activity performed by an actor in
84
a given situation, under certain constraints (e.g.Vermeer, 1996).
There are various analytical models of an action (e.g. Steiner, 1988). An actor, in a given
situation, desires to reach a given goal (or: desires the existence of a particular state of
affairs): this is the initial motivation of an action. A plan or strategy is then formulated, by
means of which (the actor predicts) the desired goal can be reached (in the fastest or most
efficient or appropriate way). This plan is then carried out, and there follows an evaluation
phase during which the actor decides whether or not the goal has been achieved, or to
what extent. If the goal is not achieved, or not to a satisfactory degree, owing for example,
to some unpredicted constraint or other factor, an alternative plan is formulated, or the
goal is adjusted or abandoned. The process can of course be further broken down into
subgoals, subplans or operations, more or less ad infinitum. Goals and strategies are
normally accessible to consciousness (they are Âpotentially conscious'), but the further down
the scale we go, into mini and micro-actions, for example to the neurological level, the less
likely it is that these actions will be accessible to consciousness.
The whole process is thus one of heuristic problem-solving: the general problem is how to
proceed from state A (here and now) to state B (the desired state). More specifically, a
problem can be defined as follows (Lörscher, 1991:79f, citing Dörner, 1976). A problem is
perceived by an actor to exist if the following conditions prevail: (i) an undesirable initial
state of affairs, (ii) a desirable goal state, and (iii) a barrier preventing the transformation of
the initial state into the desired end state. The barrier may be (a) that the means of getting
from one state to the other are unknown (e.g. in alchemy: these are means problems); (b)
that several means exist but the actor cannot decide which is the optimal one (e.g. chess
moves: choice problems); or (c) that the desired end state is only vaguely known or even
unknown (e.g. creative writing: goal problems).
As we have seen, strategies are ways of solving, or plans to solve, problems. Any strategy
can be evaluated in terms of costs and benefits: some turn out to be successful and
efficient, others less so. Strategies are not prescriptive, but often contain an element of
optimality: a strategy is typically deemed to be a good way of solving a problem, an
efficient way, the most appropriate way, or the like.
Consider now three general problems: How to communicate X? How to learn X? How to
translate X? All three can be related to each of the above barrier-types to some extent.
However, it could perhaps be argued that each of our three main strategy types is
predominantly associated with a particular problem type, despite obvious overlaps.
Communication strategies seem designed mainly to solve means problems: what are the
possible means for reaching the desired goal, communicating X? Learning strategies mainly
aim to solve choice problems: given several means, which is the best? And translation
strategies seem to be mainly for goal problems: the form of an acceptable target version
the desired end state is not yet clear, what should it be?
An action-theory approach also sheds light on the relation between the three types of
strategies in other ways. If learning a language is seen as a goal, communication (i.e.
interactive use of a language) is an obvious means to this goal. Yet not all the
communicative strategies will lead equally well to this goal: not the reduction ones, and not
those involving language switch or transfer, presumably. Indeed, these strategies would
seem to lead to non-learning, as would simplification, generalization, paraphrase and the
various extralinguistic strategies (although these might be successful in promoting
individual acts of communication). On the other
85
hand, the goal of language learning is usually understood as communication in one way or
another, so any learning strategy that proved to be successful would itself contribute to
this communicative end.The goal of translation, too, is communication.
To create a synthesis of the three areas, we can propose a hierarchical arrangement of
goals and subgoals, with (international) communication as the higher-level, global goal, and
language learning and translation as two means of achieving this goal. Within a specific
company or institution, for instance, long-term cost-benefit analysis might be used to find
out which of these two means worked best in dealing with the company's or institution's
international communication, and investment made accordingly.
Consider now the relevance of the communication and learning strategies from the
translator's point of view. Translators are not only seeking to communicate, they are also
seeking to master a skill, to learn their trade: this latter point applies to trainee translators
especially, of course, but I never yet met a professional translator who was not interested
in improving his or her skills and learning more. In this light, communication achievement
strategies seem eminently applicable to translation: they are similar to the linguistic kind of
translation strategy outlined above. And some of the reduction strategies also seem
applicable: replacing with a vaguer meaning, or omission, for instance.
The learner strategies for Âgood learners' might also be applied to Âgood translators', and
thus be of relevance in translator training. Specific practice can be given in how and where
to ask for clarification, in the use of inferencing, in contrastive analysis, in general problemsolving techniques such as lateral thinking, in how to react to criticism, in cooperating with
colleagues, and so on.
To sum up: given a problem, what are the available strategies in their most general form?
At the most general level, the problem is one of the fit between goal and means. If
appropriate means are not immediately available, we have to adjust either goal or means.
This implies two basic categories: strategies of goal adjustment and those of means
adjustment. Some examples of each type:
Goal adjustment:
abandon
postpone
replace, redefine
relax or relativize constraints of
quantity/totality (differentiate subgoals, parts)
time (not all at once)
quality (modify adequacy criteria)
Means adjustment:
abandon means A, try means B, C...
multiply number of means, combine different ones
use a diversion (indirect means)
optimize (use what you know, do what you can do)
analyse (atomize)
organize (holistically)
hypothesize, imagine
verbalize
socialize (ask for help, look up...)
86
If translators were conscious of all this, would they be better translators?
Note
This paper is in part reproduced with the kind permission of St Jerome Publishing.
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(1997) Memes of Translation. The Spread of Ideas in Translation Theory. Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Dörner,D. (1976) Problemlosen als Informationsverarbeitwng. Stuttgart.
Faerch, Kasper, C. and Kasper, G. (1980) Process and strategies in foreign language learning and
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Longman.
Faerch, Kasper, C. and Kasper, G. (1983b) On identifying comunication strategies in interlanguage
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London: Longman.
Klippi, A. (1996) Conversation as an Achievement in Aphasics. Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura.
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Kussmaul, P. (1995) Training the Translator. Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Lörscher,W. (1991) Translation Performance, Translation Process, and Translation Strategies. Tübingen:
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Poulisse, N., Bongaerts,T. and Kellerman, E. (1984) On the use of compensatory strategies in second
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87
Impressions of AILA 1996
Remarks delivered at the closing plenary session
11th World Congress of Applied Linguistics
Jyväskylä, Finland
Diane Larsen-Freeman
School for International Training, Vermont
Introduction
I should begin this short piece, a written version of my comments delivered at the closing
plenary session of AILA 1996, by stating the obvious. The AILA 1996 program was very rich
and no one person could possibly do justice to its richness. Thus, the following is a very
selective account of themes that emerged as I listened to papers, participated in
workshops, reviewed posters, and had conversations at dinner, during excursions, and other
social events, formal and informal.' A second, equally obvious, qualification to my remarks is
that any coherence I impose by identifying crosscutting themes at the AILA Congress is a
product of my own experience and North American perspective. Finally, my comments
relate to sessions on language acquisition and language pedagogy. My colleagues at the
closing plenary session, Professors Marilda Cavalcanti and Chris Candlin, reviewed other
areas represented at the congress.
I have organized my impressions into two major categories - the seen and the unseen for it seems to me, what was present, and what one might expect to be present, but was
instead absent, are both noteworthy. In order to be economical, and to avoid any
inadvertent omissions, I will not cite specific presenters in conjunction with the themes I
discuss, with the exception of the plenary speakers.
The Seen
Border crossings In part no doubt stimulated by the convenors' choice of congress theme applied linguistics across disciplines - I perceived a great deal of disciplinary border crossing.
One bit of evidence I adduce to support this perception comes from the fact that the
following combinations were frequently used throughout the congress: multidisciplinary,
transdisciplinary, crossdisciplinary, interdisciplinary. Additionally, there was frequent
mention of Âhyphenated' disciplines. Certainly some
88
of these were very familiar: socio-psychological, sociolinguistic, psycholinguistic, and so on;
others were less familiar: cognitive anthropology, socio-historical, ecolinguistics. Still others
were new to me: eco-psychology, critical applied linguistics, environmental philosophy.
These blendings make sense, and certainly their general meanings are transparent;
however, it is still worth asking if there were any other factors besides the theme of the
congress that contributed to these and other border crossings.
One such factor may lie outside of applied linguistics proper. An idea that seems
pervasive these days is the realization that things are interconnected in extremely
complicated and sensitive ways. It is often illustrated by a phenomenon known as the
butterfly effect - the fluttering of a butterfly's wings in a distant part of the world today is
said to have influence on the local weather next month. If such disparate phenomena as
distant fluttering wings and local weather patterns are connected, it would be irresponsible
of applied linguists not to be looking to make novel connections of their own.
Another factor that may account for the border crossings is the assumption that is
equally widespread at this particular time in history - that our survival somehow depends on
our being able to transcend our individual perspectives in order to find common grounds
with others in communities. This theme is manifest at the global level in the creation of new
political alliances, of transnational virtual communities, of the need for world-wide
environmental conservation, and the increasingly interdependent global economy' At the
level of applied linguistics, this assumption not only leads to border crossings, but also to
boundary blurrings. The blurring of boundaries was evident at the congress when
distinctions between entities heretofore considered autonomous were repeatedly called
into question. Let me cite several examples of this boundary-blurring trend on display at the
congress.
Boundary blurrings
Lexis/Syntax A great deal of attention at the congress was given to lexis. Now I realize that
here in Europe many of you have maintained an interest in lexis over the years; however, it
was my impression that at this congress, lexis received more attention than in recent times.
Consistent with the trend that I have just pointed out, some of the attention given lexis
came in the form of a blurring of the boundaries between lexical and grammatical elements
motivated by the awareness that syntax and lexis cannot be described independently. This
is not a new awareness, of course. Halliday has proposed that we speak of Âlexicogrammatical units' rather than attempting to treat either lexis or grammar independently.
However, at this congress, there were many other refrains of this theme, especially with
the invoking of Sinclair's idiom principle, Pawley and Syder's lexicalized sentence stems, and
Nattinger and DeCarrico's form-function composites. Even Chomsky, while still maintaining
the distinction between syntax and lexis in his minimalist position, asserts a much more
prominent role for the lexicon and claims that knowledge of a language is universal
grammar and a language-specific lexicon; thus, language acquisition is in essence a matter
of determining lexical idiosyncrasies.
Emic/Etic perspectives Linguistics, ethnographers, and applied linguists have often found
the distinction between inside (emic) and outside (etic) perspectives useful to make.
However, questions were raised at this congress about whether it was really possible to
maintain this distinction. Can a researcher ever truly get outside of the subject he or
89
she is studying?3 One of the presenters at this congress was heard to remark, ÂWe are
kidding ourselves if we say that ethnography is closer to reality than positivism.' In other
words, there can be no such thing in applied linguistics research as neutral objectivity. It
follows then that direct, culturally-unmediated apprehension of reality is impossible, we
were told. It was the sentiment of many at this congress that rather than reality being
objective, it was more likely the case that researchers construct reality and give it their
interpretation.
Closely aligned was the much-discussed notion of co-construction. Among the constructs,
at some session or other of this congress, that were said to be coconstructed, that is, not
fixed independently and objectively, but rather the emerging product of negotiation
between participants were: professional identity, culture, teaching, and learning. And this
seems the appropriate place to make special mention of the presentation by the
distinguished scholar, Leontiev, who extended the list to include personality, by claiming
that personality is of a dialogic nature as well.
Teacher/Researcher/Theoretician Another blurring of boundaries was found between
teachers and researchers. A question posed at a congress symposium was ÂWho counts as a
researcher?' We are in the middle of a transformation of meaning given to this term. For
instance, is teacher action research capital-R research? If not, why not? In the same vein,
the traditional distinction between theoreticians and practitioners also drew fire at this
congress. It is well-accepted that practitioners (teachers) operate from theoretical
perspectives, even if they do not draw on applied linguistic theories. Practitioners' theories
have usually been differentiated from theories in applied linguistics by calling the former
implicit, small-t theories, and the latter explicit, capital-T theories. However, more and more
teachers, encouraged by teacher educators, are reflecting on their practice. This led to
questions being posed at the congress such as, ÂCan't coherent explicit accounts that
emanate from these reflections justly be called capital-T theories to rival any other theory
in the field? Or do we mean something different by theory?'
Certainly there have been a great number of articles in our journals lately dealing with
epistemological issues such as these, and epistemological discussions took place at the
congress as well. In fact, presumably the same impetus for the bounder-blurring examples I
have just cited was responsible for generating a number of definitional issues around
foundational concepts in our field.
Definitional issues
Language Perhaps none could be as fundamental as the issue of what language itself is. At
the congress I heard one participant assert, ÂThere is no such thing as language!' It is
difficult to conceive of a definitional issue more unsettling than that! What the participant
meant was that there is no such thing as an autonomous entity extracted from context, a
reprise on the theme of interconnectedness that I highlighted earlier. Thus, at this
congress, there were repeated assaults on the notion of attempting to understand
language stripped from context. The problem is that in studying language you abstract it
from the actual; you idealize it. Similarly, Norman Fairclough in the opening plenary,
suggested that we adopt a new way of perceiving language - as social practice.
Language learning Another foundational concept that we challenged was the way that we
view learning. For many years the characterization of learning by hypothesis
90
formation and testing has been widely-accepted. At the congress, we were admonished no
longer to take a rule-based view of language and language acquisition as the default
explanation. There may be much more associative learning taking place than has been
recognized for the past 25 years or so.4
Language teaching Even the long-standing input-output conduit metaphor or language
acquisition was called into question at this congress. So was a more sophisticated version,
which is that interacting with teachers or more proficient users of the target language
leads these speakers to modify their speech, thereby creating comprehensible input for
language learning purposes. Instead, at the congress, we were encouraged to adopt a
dialogic view of learning. The learner is not acted upon by some (hopefully) benevolent
proficient user of the target language; instead, the learner's individual competence is
connected to, and partially constructed by, both those with whom the learner is interacting
and the lager sociohistorical forces. Following from this reasoning, teaching is not
transmission, but rather is providing the scaffolding through which input is not
comprehensible, but participatable. Teaching is invited, not imposed.
Language testing Some of the questioning of these fundamental concepts in our field had
ripple effects in other areas. For example, in the area of language testing, it had always
been assumed that you could not have test validity without reliability. However, some
testers at the congress entertained the possibility of having validity without reliability. Such
would be the case, they reasoned, if instead of reporting reality objectively, observers
created their realities. You might get different observations from different testers, even
though both may be valid.
Another area of language testing affected by the challenge to our usual definitions of
concepts, is the question of measurement. If language cannot be decontextualized, if it
cannot be frozen, if everything is interconnected, how can its control be measured? As one
frustrated participant in a symposium on language attrition put it, ÂWe know it [attrition] is
there, but we can't measure it!'
What if language as we have conceived it doesn't exist until we go to measure it - a
musing that would resonate with recent realizations in subatomic particle physics.
A new paradigm
With the mention of subatomic particles physics, I turn now to attempting to identify the
overarching theme that is reflective of my impressions of the congress. At the risk of
overstating the case, I take the observations that I have so far reported to be signs of a
certain turmoil, a field in search of a new paradigm. I do not think that this claim would be
hyperbolic, as more than once I heard talk at the congress of Âparadigm shifts', Âparameter
collapse', the need for Ânew metaphors' and the heralding of Ânew world views' and
Âcosmologies'. But such awarenesses do not develop in completely separate cultural
components. What is happening in applied linguistics is, I believe, but one expression of a
general cultural realisation that I have referred to as the butterfly effect. Things are
interconnected in extremely complicated and sensitive ways. This knowledge has been
forced on us by, among other things, telecommunications, the global economy and the
latest developments in the natural sciences.
A theory that some would say has had a profound effect on the natural sciences and
promises to do the same with the social sciences, and perhaps the humanities as well, is
chaos or complexity theory. These are theories that deal with complex, dynamic, non-linear
systems. A chaos/complexity theory perspective underscores the
91
necessity of looking at the whole, because of the interconnectedness of all the parts. It is a
process-oriented perspective - a theory of becoming, rather than being. It suggests that the
complex behaviour of a system is emergent - it is not encoded in any specific part of the
whole. It seeks to understand the dynamic behaviour of such systems, which is
characterized by alternating periods of chaos and periods of relative quiescence, brought
about by the systems' tendency to self-organize. This latter description alone seems to
parallel to what we understand of interlanguage dynamics and is merely illustrative of what
chaos/complexity theory may portend for our field in coming to new awarenesses. I could
go on about chaos/complexity theory, but as it was not discussed explicitly at the congress,
I'll refrain from doing so and refer interested readers to my article forthcoming in Applied
Linguistics (Summer 1997) for other examples of the potential impact of this perspective on
our field.
Absent
I began this review by stating that it is important to take note not only of what is present,
but also of what is absent. In this spirit, I note that there were surprisingly few
presentations on language teacher education or the use of technology in language
education. I don't want to make too much of their absence because clearly both of these
areas arouse a great deal of interest elsewhere and warrant attention. For whatever
reason, they were just not represented at AILA.
Oddly enough, even language itself seemed to get short-shrift. When I did hear language
being discussed, it was almost always couched in terms of the collective, that is, social
processes, co-construction, sociolinguistics, rather than the individuallinguistics,
psycholinguistics, and so on.
Conclusion
In keeping with the trends I have just reviewed, it should come as no surprise that there
was an entire symposium devoted to examining what applied linguistics itself was all about.
While not unexpectedly little in the way of consensus was achieved, it did seem to me that
the participants agreed that in the end applied linguists do have an obligation to tackle realworld problems.As it was put, we do have stakeholders.
One example of how this obligation was met at the congress was the amount of research
reported on at the congress that had a focus towards improving pedagogy. There were
various symposia on immersion education, focus on form, and task-based approaches to
teaching grammar. Then too, the sociopolitical issues concerning power distribution were
well represented by much activity in the area of language human rights.
We may have to proceed with caution - as plenary speaker Winnie Crombie reminded us being careful not to impose facile external solutions particularly in language-at-risk
situations. We need to bear some responsibility for not only the research, but also the use
that is made of it. Nevertheless, we do have an obligation to deal with real-world problems
concerning language-related issues, while adhering to the ethical mores of what our
community has determined to be responsible behaviour. I take heart that those present at
the congress were responsive to this call. For, after all, if we don't speak out, others, likely
less-qualified, will.
92
Notes
1
2
3
4
Encouraging interactivity was a conference objective that was clearly met.
Of course there is an equally powerful force that seeks separateness, apartness, uniqueness,
celebration of difference.This force is also in evidence around the globe in the division of the former
Yugoslavia, the separatist movements in many parts of the world, etc.
A parallel question posed at the congress concerned the boundary between data collection and data
analysis. Is it really possible to separate the two if by the very fact that you select data, you select
what to look at?
Among other implications of this perspective was one discussed at the symposium on the use of
artificial languages to investigate issues of language acquisition. Since artificial languages are
carefully constructed to control for regularity, research findings using MALs and MI-Ss might be
biased towards hypothesis formation.
93
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