Cohesion, coherence, intentionality, acceptability, informativity, situationality, and intertextuality are the Seven Standards of Textuality. Choose one of the previous standards; 1. Explain it in

http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (2 of 21\ ) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics II. The evolution of text linguistics Historical background of text linguistics: rhetoric; stylistics; literar\ y studies; anthropology; tagmemics; sociology; discourse analysis; functional sente\ nce perspective. Descriptive structural linguistics: system levels; Harris’s discourse analysis; Coseriu’s work on settings; Harweg’s model of substitution; the text as a unit above the sentence. Transformational grammar: proposals of Heidolph and \ Isenberg; the Konstanz project; Petöfi’s text-structure/world-structure theory; van Dijk’s text grammars; Mel’cuk’s text-meaning model; the evolving notion of transformation.

III. The procedural approach Pragmatics. Systems and systemization. Description and explanation. Mod\ ularity and interaction. Combinatorial explosion. Text as a procedural entity. P\ rocessing ease and processing depth. Thresholds of termination. Virtual and actual\ systems.

Cybernetic regulation. Continuity. Stability. Problem solving: depth-fir\ st search, breadth-first search, and means-end analysis. Mapping. Procedural attach\ ment.

Pattern-matching. Phases of text production: planning; ideation; develop\ ment; expression; parsing; linearization and adjacency. The phases of text rec\ eption:

parsing; concept recovery; idea recovery; plan recovery. Reversibility o\ f production and reception. Sources for procedural models: artificial intelligence; c\ ognitive psychology; operation types.

IV. Cohesion The function of syntax. The surface text in active storage. Closely-knit\ patterns:

phrase, clause, and sentence. Augmented transition networks. Grammatical\ dependencies. Rules as procedures. Micro-states and macro-states. Hold s\ tack. Re- using patterns: recurrence; partial recurrence; parallelism; paraphrase.\ Compacting patterns: pro-forms; anaphora and cataphora; ellipsis; trade-off between\ compactness and clarity. Signalling relations: tense and aspect; updating; junction:\ conjunction, disjunction, contrajunction, and subordination; modality. Functional sen\ tence perspective. Intonation.

http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (3 of 21\ ) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics V. Coherence Meaning versus sense. Non-determinacy, ambiguity, and polyvalence. Conti\ nuity of senses. Textual worlds. Concepts and relations. Strength of linkage: det\ erminate, typical, and accidental knowledge. Decomposition. Procedural semantics. \ Activation.

Chunks and global patterns. Spreading activation. Episodic and semantic \ memory.

Economy. Frames, schemas, plans, and scripts. Inheritance. Primary and s\ econdary concepts. Operators. Building a text-world model. Inferencing. The world\ -knowledge correlate. Reference.

VI. Intentionality and acceptability Intentionality. Reduced cohesion. Reduced coherence. The notion of inten\ tion across the disciplines. Speech act theory. Performatives. Grice’s conversational maxims:

cooperation, quantity, quality, relation, and manner. The notions of act\ ion and discourse action. Plans and goals. Scripts. Interactive planning. Monito\ ring and mediation. Acceptability. Judging sentences. Relationships between accep\ tability and grammaticality. Acceptance of plans and goals.

VII.

Informativity Attention. Information theory. The Markov chain. Statistical versus cont\ extual probability. Three orders of informativity. Triviality, defaults, and pr\ eferences.

Upgrading and downgrading. Discontinuities and discrepancies. Motivation\ search.

Directionality. Strength of linkage. Removal and restoration of stabilit\ y. Classifying expectations: the real world; facts and beliefs; normal ordering strateg\ ies; the organization of language; surface formatting; text types; immediate cont\ ext. Negation.

Definiteness. A newspaper article and a sonnet. Expectations on multiple\ levels.

Motivations of non-expectedness.

VIII.

Situationality http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (4 of 21\ ) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics Situation models. Mediation and evidence. Monitoring versus managing. Do\ minances.

Noticing. Normal ordering strategies. Frequency. Salience. Negotiation. \ Exophora.

Managing. Plans and scripts. Planboxes and planbox escalation. A trade-o\ ff between efficiency and effectiveness. Strategies for monitoring and managing a s\ ituation.

IX. Intert extuality Text types versus linguistic typology. Functional definitions: descripti\ ve, narrative, and argumentative texts; literary and poetic texts; scientific and didactic \ texts. Using and referring to well-known texts. The organization of conversation. Problem\ s and variables. Monitoring and managing. Reichman’s coherence relations. Discourse- world models. Recalling textual content. Effects of the schema. Trace ab\ straction, construction, and reconstruction. Inferencing and spreading activation. \ Mental imagery and scenes. Interactions between text-presented knowledge and stored wor\ ld- knowledge. Textuality in recall experiments.

X. Research and schooling Cognitive science: the skills of rational human behaviour; language and \ cognition.

Defining intelligence. Texts as vehicles of science. Sociology. Anthropo\ logy.

Psychiatry and consulting psychology. Reading and readability. Writing. \ Literary studies: de-automatization; deviation; generative poetics; literary crit\ icism as downgrading. Translation studies: literal and free translating; equivale\ nce of experience; literary translating. Contrastive linguistics. Foreign-langu\ age teaching.

Semiotics. Computer science and artificial intelligence. Understanding u\ nderstanding.

References 0. Foreword 1. At the 1976 summer meeting of the Societas Linguistica Europaea, we \ agreed to prepare an updated translation of Prof. Dressler’s Einführung in die Textlinguistik http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (5 of 21\ ) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics (1972a) which has been well received. During the task of surveying and\ integrating new research since 1972, we came to realize that our plan was not realis\ tic. In their quest for new theories and methods, recent trends have led to fundamenta\ lly changed conditions for a science of texts, rather than to a mere extension of ol\ der methods to a new object of inquiry. This evolution has been marked by interdisciplina\ ry co-operation far more than traditional linguistics had been.

2. We accordingly developed a completely new plan and format for our int\ roductory survey. 1 We stress here at the outset that we have by no means been exhaustive o\ r definitive in our treatment of the issues. We were often dealing with ne\ wly emerging questions whose resolution will demand many years of concerted research.\ Still, we thought it would be useful to mention such questions and to suggest some\ reasonable answers. We will be quite content if our book proves serviceable as a guide in a period of rapid transition and change. 3. Any transitional study of multi-disciplinary issues is bound to evoke\ controversy.

Some partisans may deny the value of text linguistics altogether and ins\ ist that sentence linguistics is the proper domain of investigation. 2 Others may wish to admit texts without altering the established methods. 3 Even those who will accept profound alterations may disagree about the best new directions to pursue. 4 In our view, the nature of texts as communicative occurrences should decide what methods \ are used, irrespective of personal or institutional commitments made in the past. \ In practice, our approach is intended more to complement traditional ones than to compete\ with them. We often address issues which older approaches made no claims to encompa\ ss.

4. Thomas Kuhn (1970) has contributed enormously to public awareness o\ f the extent to which activities in “normal science” are controlled by conventions among the scientists rather than the manifest nature of the objects of inquiry. Th\ at predicament is egregiously acute in linguistics, where the object is so diversified and\ flexible. Hardly an aspect of human thought, action, and interaction is not permeated to \ some degree by language. We cannot escape being reductive in our theories and models\ . Yet we must bear in mind that reductions are temporary, undesirable conditions \ to be http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (6 of 21\ ) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics removed as soon as it is feasible. We may even find that an integrated, \ comprehensive approach actually leads to a simpler account of language o\ verall than a fragmented, restricted one: preoccupation with exactness of detail in \ isolated domains can block our vision for sweeping correlations across the whole \ spectrum (cf.

X.29).

5. A young science like linguistics would understandably seek to align i\ tself with older sciences like physics, mathematics, and formal logic. But communication,\ like any human activity, has its own special physical, mathematic, and logical pr\ operties that must not be overlooked. An unduly rigid application of notions from the \ “exact” sciences could dehumanize the object to the point where the inquiry beco\ mes irrelevant. A formalism is a representation, not an explanation, and a means, not an\ end. The analysis of formal structures might well fail to uncover the na\ ture and function of an entity in its wider context. 6. The terms and notions of linguistics often attest to ambitions of sci\ entific, logical, and mathematical rigor. Yet their uncritical acceptance on those grounds\ alone could be dangerous. A science of texts demands its own terms and notions becau\ se of the nature of its object. Probabilistic models are more adequate and realistic than deterministic ones. Dynamic accounts of structure-building operations will be more productive than static descriptions of the structures themselves. We should look to discover regularities, strategies, motivations, preferences, and defaults rather than rules and laws. Dominances can offer more realistic classifications than can strict categories.

Acceptability and appropriateness are more crucial standards for texts than grammaticality and well-formedness. Human reasoning processes are more essential to using and conveying knowledge in texts than are logical proofs. It is the task of science to systemize the fuzziness of its objects of inquiry, not to ignore it or argue it away. 5 7. As remarked by Thomas Kuhn (1970: 136-43), textbooks generally crea\ te the impression that all discovery and research in a science has been leading\ up to the http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (7 of 21\ ) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics constellation of theories and issues we consider important today. Any other mode of presentation would confuse the learner with a disunited array of quarrel\ s, many of which are not relevant in our modern perspective. In the present book, w\ e devote some space to comparing the “paradigm” of text linguistics with older paradigms; yet we too are compelled to maintain a reasonable degree of unity and consis\ tency, even where the community of text linguists is still engaged in lively debate.\ We try to point out some major areas of dissension, but we will inevitably have overlook\ ed or attenuated some individual claims and viewpoints. Such shortcomings may,\ we hope, be excused in a textbook on a new domain caught up in rapid evolution. \ robert-alain de beaugrande wolfgang ulrich dressler University of Florida University of Vienna Notes 1 In our new division of labour, topics emerging since 1972 were mostly \ treated by Prof. Beaugrande; Prof. Dresser’s contributions were largely in the areas he covered in the 1972 volume, especially cohesion.

2 E.g., Dascal & Margalit (1974).

3 E.g., Ballmer (1975).

4 For an impressive diversity of viewpoints, see papers in Petöfi (e\ d.) (1979), and surveys in Dressler (ed.) (1978).

5 The scientific status of text studies is explored in Beaugrande (1981\ b). Chapter I Basic notions 1. Here are six language samples that appear to be alike in some wa\ ys and different http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (8 of 21\ ) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics in others: 1 [1] SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY [2] The King was in the counting house, counting all his money; The Queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey; The Maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes; Along came a blackbird and pecked off her nose.

[3] Twenty-year-old Willie B.1s a diehard TV addict. He hates news and t\ alk shows, but he loves football and gets so excited over food commercials that he some\ times charges at the set, waving a fist. Says a friend: “He’s like a little child.” Willie B.1s a 450-lb gorilla at the Atlanta Zoo. In December a Tenn\ essee TV dealer heard about Willie B.’s lonely life as the zoo’s only gorilla and gave him a TV set.

[4] A great black and yellow V-2 rocket 46 feet long stood in a New Mexi\ co desert. Empty it weighed five tons. For fuel it carried eight tons of alcohol and liqu\ id oxygen.

Everything was ready. Scientists and generals withdrew to some dista\ nce and crouched behind earth mounds. Two red flares rose as a signal to fire th\ e rocket.

With a great roar and burst of flame the giant rocket rose slowly an\ d then faster and faster. Behind it trailed sixty feet of yellow flame. Soon the flame loo\ ked like a yellow star. In a few seconds it was too high to be seen, but radar tracked it \ as it sped upward to 3, 000 mph.

A few minutes after it was fired, the pilot of a watching plane saw \ it return at a speed of 2, 400 mph and plunge into earth forty miles from the starting point.\ [5] heffalump: (gloatingly): Ho-ho!

piglet (carelessly): Tra-la-la, tra-la-la.

heffalump (surprised, and not quite so sure of himself): Ho-ho!

piglet (more carelessly still): Tiddle-um-tum, tiddle-um-tum.

heffalump (beginning to say ‘Ho-ho’ and turning it awkwardly into a cough) H’r’m What’s all this?

http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (9 of 21\ ) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics piglet (surprised): Hallo! This is a trap I’ve made, and I’m waiting for the Heffalump to fall into it.

heffalump (greatly disappointed): Oh! (After a long silence): Are you sure?

piglet: Yes.

heffalump: Oh! (nervously): I—I thought it was a trap I’d made to catch piglets.

piglet (surprised): Oh. no!

heffalump: Oh! (apologetically): I—I must have got it wrong, then.

piglet: I’m afraid so. (politely): I’m sorry. (He goes on humming.) heffalump: Well —Well—I— Well. I suppose I’d better be getting back?

piglet: (looking up carelessly): Must you? Well, if you see Christopher Robin anywhere, you might tell him I want him.

heffalump (eager to please): Certainly! Certainly! (He hurries off.) [6] GHOSTS Those houses haunt in which we leave Something undone. It is not those Great words or silences of love That spread their echoes through a place And fill the locked-up unbreathed gloom.

Ghosts do not haunt with any face That we have known; they only come With arrogance to thrust at us Our own omissions in a room.

The words we would not speak they use, The deeds we dared not act they flaunt, Our nervous silences they bruise; It is our helplessness they choose And our refusals that they haunt.

2. These are all instances of English texts being used in discourse. The\ different ways these texts can be used indicates that they belong to different text typ\ es: [1] road sign, [2] nursery rhyme, [3] news article, [4] science textbook, [5] conversat\ ion between two participants taking turns, and [6] poem. It seems reasonable to require \ that a science of http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (10 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics texts should be able to describe or explain both the shared features and\ the distinctions among these texts or text types. We ought to find out what standards tex\ ts must fulfil, how they might be produced or received, what people are using them for i\ n a given setting of occurrence, and so forth. The words and sentences on the page are reliable clues, but they cannot be the total picture. The more pressing question \ is how the texts function in human interaction. 3. A text will be defined as a communicative occurrence which meets seven s\ tandards of textuality. If any of these standards is not considered to have been satisfied, the \ text will not be communicative. Hence, non-communicative texts are treated as non-\ texts (cf.

III.8). We shall outline the seven standards informally in this chapter\ and then devote individual chapters to them later on.

4. The first standard will be called cohesion and concerns the ways in which the components of the surface text, i.e. the actual words we hear or see, 2 are mutually connected within a sequence. The surface components depend upon each other according to grammatical forms and conventions, such that cohesion rests\ upon grammatical dependencies. As linguists have often pointed out, surface s\ equences of English cannot be radically rearranged without causing disturbances. We \ would not, for instance, get very far by converting sample [1] into this order:

[la] Children play slow at and requesting the traffic authorities to use it on road signs. The seri\ es is so disjointed that drivers could hardly tell what goes with what. Obviously, the gramm\ atical dependencies in the surface text are major signals for sorting out meani\ ngs and uses. All of the functions which can be used to signal relations among surface ele\ ments are included under our notion of cohesion. 3 5. Notice that our original sample [1] SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY might be divided up into various dependencies. Someone might conceivably\ construe it as a notice about ‘slow children’ who are ‘at play”, 4 so that unflattering conclusions could be drawn about the children’s intelligence or physical fitness. But the more likely reaction would be to divide the text into ‘slow’ and ‘children at play’, and suppose that drivers should reduce speed to avoid endangering the playing children. A\ science of http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (11 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics texts should explain how ambiguities like this one are possible on the s\ urface, but also how people preclude or resolve most ambiguities without difficulty. The surface is, as we see, not decisive by itself; there must be interaction between cohesion \ and the other standards of textuality to make communication efficient (cf. III.4).

6. The second standard will be called coherence and concerns the ways in which the components of the textual world, i.e., the configuration of concepts and relations which underlie the surface text, are mutually accessible and relevant. 5 A concept is definable as a configuration of knowledge (cognitive content) which can be recov\ ered or activated with more or less unity and consistency in the mind (cf. V.4ff.). rela\ tions are the links between concepts which appear together in a textual world: each link wou\ ld bear a designation of the concept it connects to. For example, in ‘children at play’, ‘children’ is an object concept and ‘play’ an action concept, and the relation “agent-of” obtains, because the children are the agents of the action (cf. V.26(b)). Som\ etimes, though not always, the relations are not made explicit in the text, that is, they a\ re not activated directly by expressions of the surface (cf. V.4). People will supply a\ s many relations as are needed to make sense out of the text as it stands. In the road sign \ [1], ‘slow’ makes better sense as the “quantity of motion” which a text receiver should assume than as an attribute” of the children themselves.

7. Coherence can be illustrated particularly well by a group of relation\ s subsumed under causality. 6 These relations concern the ways in which one situation or event affect\ s the conditions for some other one. In a sample such as:

[7] Jack fell down and broke his crown.

the event of ‘falling down’ is the cause of the event of ‘breaking’, since it created the necessary conditions for the latter. A weaker type of causality applies to this sample:

[8] The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, All on a summer’s day.

The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, And took them quite away.

Here, the Queen’s action created the sufficient, but not necessary conditions for the Knave’s action (made it possible, but not obligatory); this relation can be \ termed enablement.

8. These conceptual relations do not cover all kinds of causality. In a \ sample such as:

[9] Jack shall have but a penny a day http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (12 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics Because he can’t work any faster the low pay is not actually caused or enabled by the slow working, but is nonetheless a reasonable and predictable outcome. The term reason can be used for the relation where an action follows as a rational response to some previous event. I\ n contrast, Jack’s ‘breaking his crown’ was independently necessary (we could not ask: “What made him feel like doing that?”) (cf. Wilks 1977b: 235f.) 9. Cause, enablement, and reason cannot capture the relation at stake he\ re:

[10] Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard to get her poor dog a \ bone.

Mother Hubbard’s first action does enable the second, but there is an important difference between samples [8] and [10]l: the agent’s plan is involved in [10], while the Queen did not do her baking for the sake of allowing a theft. The term p\ urpose can be used for an event or situation which is planned to become possible via a\ previous event or situation.

10. Another way of looking at events or situations is their arrangement in time. Cause, enablement, and reason have forward directionality, that is, the earlier event or situation causes, enables, or provides the reason for the later one. Purpose has backward directionality, that is, the later event or situation is the purpose for\ the earlier one. Time relations can be very intricate, depending on the organization of the particular event\ s or situations mentioned. Where sample [10] goes on to say:

[11] When she got there, the cupboard was bare.

our knowledge of the world tells us that the ‘getting there’ action was later than that of ‘going to the cupboard’ (being the terminal boundary of the latter), but happened at the same time as the situation of the ‘cupboard being bare’. The relation of temporal proximity can be specified in many ways, according to the boundaries of \ events. 7 11. We reserve the discussion of other coherence relations for section \ V. 25ff. We would only point out here that we have already moved somewhat beyond the text \ as it is actually made manifest in sound or print. Coherence is clearly not a mer\ e feature of texts, but rather the outcome of cognitive processes among text users. T\ he simple juxtaposition of events and situations in a text will activate operation\ s which recover or create coherence relations. We can notice that effect in this sample:

[12] The King was in the counting house, counting all his money; The Queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey; http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (13 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics The Maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes; In the explicit text, there is a set of actions (‘counting’, ‘eating’, ‘hanging out’); the only relations presented are the location, the agent, and the affected entity\ of each action (on these terms, cf. V.26ff.). Yet simply by virtue of the textual configur\ ation, a text receiver is likely to assume that the action is in each case the purpose of being\ at that location; that the locations are proximate to each other, probably in or near the \ royal palace; and even that the actions are proximate in time. One might well go on to ass\ ume that the actions are intended to signal the attributes of the agents (e.g. the K\ ing being avaricious, the Queen gluttonous, the Maid industrious). The adding of one’s own knowledge to bring a textual world together is called inferencing (cf. V. 32ff.) 12. Coherence already illustrates the nature of a science of texts as h\ uman activities. A text does not make sense by itself, but rather by the interaction of tex\ t-presented knowledge with people’s stored knowledge of the world (cf. Petöfi 1974; IX.24-40). It follows that text linguists must cooperate with cognitive psychologists \ to explore even such a basic matter as the “sense” of a text. We also see that theories and methods will have to be probabilistic rather than deterministic, that is, they will s\ tate what is usually the case rather than always. Different users might set up slightly diffe\ rent senses; yet there will be a common core of probable operations and content consisten\ tly found among most users, so that the notion “sense of a text” is not unduly unstable (cf. V.1).

13. Cohesion and coherence are text-centred notions, designating operations directed at the text materials. In addition, we shall require user-centred notions which are brought to bear on the activity of textual communication at large, both by produ\ cers and by receivers. The third standard of textuality could then be called intenti\ onality, concerning the text producer’s attitude that the set of occurrences should constitute a cohesive and \ coherent text instrumental in fulfilling the producer’s intentions, e.g. to distribute knowledge or to attain a goal specified in a plan. 9 To some degree, cohesion and coherence could themselves be regarded as operational goals without whos\ e attainment other discourse goals may be blocked. However, text users normally exerc\ ise tolerance towards products whose conditions of occurrence make it hard to uphold c\ ohesion and coherence altogether (cf. VI.2ff.), notably in casual conversation. A \ hybrid structure such as this (documented in Coulthard 1977: 72):

[12] Well where do which part of town do you live?

did not disturb communication because it still served the superior goal \ of finding out someone’s address, although the subordinate goal of maintaining cohesion did not\ fully http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (14 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics succeed. But if a text producer intended to defy cohesion and coherence,\ communication would be slowed down for negotiation (cf. IX.1s ff.) and could break d\ own altogether.

14. The fourth standard of textuality would be acceptability, concernin\ g the text receiver’s attitude that the set of occurrences should constitute a cohesive and \ coherent text having some use or relevance for the receiver, e.g. to acquire know\ ledge or provide co-operation in a plan. 10 This attitude is responsive to such factors as text type, social or cultural setting, and the desirability of goals. Here also, we could vie\ w the maintenance of cohesion and coherence by the text receiver as a goal of its own, suc\ h that material would be supplied or disturbances tolerated as required. The operation of inferencing, mentioned in I.11 strikingly illustrates how receivers support coherence\ by making their own contributions to the sense of the text.

15. If acceptability is restricted, communication can be diverted. It i\ s accordingly taken as a signal of non-cooperation if a text receiver raises questions about\ acceptability when the text producer’s intentionality is obviously in effect (Dickens 1836-37: 774): 11 [13] “What we require, sir, is a probe of this here.” “Probate, my dear sir, probate, “ said Pell. “Well, sir, “ replied Mr. Weller sharply, “probe and probe it is very much the same; if you don’t understand what I mean, sir, I daresay I can find them as does.” “No offence, I hope, Mr. Weller, “ said Pell meekly.

16. Text producers often speculate on the receivers’ attitude of acceptability and present texts that require important contributions in order to make sense. The B\ ell Telephone Company warns people: [14] Call us before you dig. You may not be able to afterwards.

People are left to infer that digging without asking might lead to cutt\ ing off a ground cable and hence to losing the wiring needed in order to call; or even, t\ o sustaining bodily injury and being incapacitated. It is intriguing that [14] is more effective than a version would be that made everything more explicit (in the sense of 1.6), such as:

[14]a Call us before you dig. There might be an underground cable. If yo\ u break the cable, you won’t have phone service, and you may get a severe electric shock. Then you won’t be able to call us.

Apparently, text receivers are readily persuaded by content they must su\ pply on their own: it is as if they were making the assertion themselves (cf. VII-28,\ 42; VIII.20).

Sample [14] is more informative than sample [14a], a factor which constitutes the next standard of textuality. http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (15 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics 17. The fifth standard of textuality is called informativity and con\ cerns the extent to which the occurrences of the presented text are expected vs. unexpected \ or known vs.

unknown/certain. 12 In sample [14], the assertion that ‘you will not ‘be able to call’ is much more unexpected than it is in [14]a. The processing of highly informativ\ e occurrences is more demanding than otherwise, but correspondingly more interesting as w\ ell. Caution must be exercised lest the receivers’ processing become overloaded to the point of endangering communication.

18. Every text is at least somewhat informative: no matter how predicta\ ble form and content may be, there will always be a few variable occurrences that can\ not be entirely foreseen. Particularly low informativity is likely to be disturbing, cau\ sing boredom or even rejection of the text. The opening stretch of a science textbook runs li\ ke this: 13 [15] The sea is water The fact asserted here is so well known to everyone that there seems to \ be no point in saying it here. The stretch of text is clearly cohesive and coherent, an\ d undoubtedly intended to be acceptable as such. But it is nonetheless a marginal text\ because it is so uninformative. Not until we look at the continuation does the text’s status seem more sound: [15a] The sea is water only in the sense that water is the dominant subs\ tance present.

Actually, it is a solution of gases and salts in addition to vast number\ s of living organisms ...

The assertion of the obvious fact in [15] functions as a starting point \ for asserting something more informative. The surface cue ‘actually’ signals that the well-known “substance-of” relation (cf. V.26(1)) is not strictly accurate. The ensuing correc\ tion of a common view is less expected, so that the informativity of the whole pas\ sage is upgraded (cf. VII.16).

19. The sixth standard of textuality can be designated situationality an\ d concerns the factors which make a text relevant to a situation of occurrence. 14 We saw in I.5 that one might treat the road sign [1] SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY in different ways, but that the most probable intended use was obvious. \ The ease with which people can decide such an issue is due to the influence of the sit\ uation where the http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (16 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics text is presented. In the case of sample [1], the sign is placed in a lo\ cation where a certain class of receivers, namely motorists, are likely to be asked for\ a particular action.

It is far more reasonable to assume that ‘slow’ is a request to reduce speed rather than an announcement of the children’s mental or physical deficiencies. Pedestrians can tell that the text is not relevant for themselves because their speeds would \ not endanger anyone. In this manner, the sense and use of the text are decided via th\ e situation.

20. Situationality even affects the means of cohesion. On the one hand,\ a text version such as:[1b] Motorists should proceed slowly, because children are playing in th\ e vicinity and might run out into the street. Vehicles can stop more readily if they ar\ e moving slowly.

would remove every possible doubt about sense, use, and group of intende\ d receivers.

On the other hand, it would not be appropriate to a situation where rece\ ivers have only limited time and attention to devote to signs among the other occurrence\ s of moving traffic. That consideration forces the text producer toward a maximum of\ economy; situationality works so strongly that the minimal version [1] is more appropriate than the clearer [1b] (cf. I.23).

21. The seventh standard of textuality is to be called intertextuality a\ nd concerns the factors which make the utilization of one text dependent upon knowledge \ of one or more previously encountered texts. A driver who has seen road sign [1] is lik\ ely to see another sign further down the road, such as: [16] RESUME SPEED One cannot ‘resume’ something unless one was doing it at an earlier time and then stopped it for some reason. The ‘speed’ at stake here can only be the one maintained until [1] was encountered and a reduction was made. Clearly, the sense a\ nd relevance of [16] depends upon knowing about [1] and applying the content to the evol\ ving situation.

22. Intertextuality is, in a general fashion, responsible for the evolu\ tion of text types as classes of texts with typical patterns of characteristics (cf. IX.1ff.)\ . Within a particular type, reliance on intertextuality may be more or less prominent. In type\ s like parodies, critical reviews, rebuttals, or reports, the text producer must consult \ the prior text continually, and text receivers will usually need some familiarity with \ the latter. An advertisement appeared in magazines some years ago showing a petulant yo\ ung man saying to someone outside the picture:

[17] As long as you’re up, get me a Grant’s.

http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (17 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics A professor working on a research project cut the text out of a magazine\ , altered it slightly, and displayed it on his office door as:[17a] As long as you’re up, get me a Grant.

In the original setting, [ 17] was a request to be given a beverage of a\ particular brand. In the new setting, [17a] seems to be pointless: research grants are awarde\ d only after extensive preparation and certainly can’t be gotten while casually walking across a room.

The discrepancy is resolvable via one’s knowledge of the originally presented text and its intention, while the unexpectedness of the new version renders it inform\ ative and interesting (cf. I.17). This interest effect offsets the lack of immed\ iate situational relevance and the nonserious intention of the new text presenter.

23. We have now glanced at all seven standards of textuality: cohesion (\ 1.4-5), coherence (1.6-12), intentionality (I.13), acceptability (I.14-16)\ , informativity (I.17-18), situationality (I.19-20), and intertextuality (I.22-22). These stand\ ards function as constitutive principles (after Searle 1969: 33f.) of textual communica\ tion: they define and create the form of behaviour identifiable as textual communicating, and \ if they are defied, that form of behaviour will break down. There must also exist regulative\ principles (again following Searle) that control textual communication rather than define\ it. We envision at least three regulative principles. The efficiency of a text depends on i\ ts use in communicating with a minimum expenditure of effort by the participants. \ The effectiveness of a text depends on its leaving a strong impression and c\ reating favourable conditions for attaining a goal. The appropriateness of a tex\ t is the agreement between its setting and the ways in which the standards of textuality ar\ e upheld. 16 24. It will be our task in this book to pursue both the constitutive and\ the regulative principles of textual communication. We shall present some topics loosel\ y grouped under each of the seven standards in turn. At the same time, we shall be conce\ rned with illustrating how the constitution and use of texts are controlled by the\ principles of efficiency, effectiveness, and appropriateness. Not surprisingly, our di\ scussion will lead us into some domains outside the confines of usual linguistics, simply b\ ecause of the different concerns we raise. In particular, we shall be obliged to rely \ on considerable research in other disciplines, notably cognitive science, a new field at\ the crossroads of linguistics, psychology, and computer science (cf. X.3 and, on artifici\ al intelligence, X.

26ff.). The standards of textuality alone entail, as we have seen, fact\ ors of cognition, planning, and social environment merely to distinguish what constitutes \ a text. Still, it is perhaps not unduly optimistic to hope that the broad outlines we shall u\ ndertake to http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (18 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics sketch are gradually being filled in by the concerted interaction of res\ earchers sharing a commitment to the study of language use as a crucial human activity.

Notes1 Samples [1] and [2] are public domain. Sample [3] is taken from TIME magazine, 22 Jan. 1979. Sample [4] is a selection from Booklet D of McCall & Crabb\ s (1961); after being used in diverse studies (see note 10 to Chapter V), it for\ med the basis for a specifically text-linguistic inquiry (see Beaugrande 1980a, 1980c\ , 1981b).

Simmons and Chester (1979) was in turn inspired by the latter’s studies. Sample [5] is taken from A. A. Milne’s House at Pooh Corner (1928: 44f.) Sample [6] is from Elisabeth Jennings’ Poems 1967 (1967:55). I 1.4-6 and 19-21; [2] in I.11; [3] in VII.21-28 and 42; [4] in III.26, IV.7-10, 24, 29, V.29-39, and IX.25-39;\ [5] in VI.29-31; and [6] in VII.29-4.2.

2 The “surface” is not of course the raw material of sounds or printed marks; it already presupposes that language expressions are presented and identifi\ ed. How this identification is actually done is of course a valid issue for the \ procedural approach, even though we cannot treat it here. See Selfridge & Neisser (\ 1960); Sperling (1960); Neisser (1967); Crowder & Morton (1969); Woods et\ al. (1976); Rumelhart (1977a); and Walker (ed.) (1978).

3 The term “cohesion” was made current by Halliday and later by Hasan (cf.

Halliday 1964; Hasan 1968; Halliday & Hasan 1976). Compare also Crymes (1968); Harweg (1968); Palek (1968); Hobbs (1976); W\ ebber (1978).

Note that our use of the term is extremely broad, including all means of\ signalling surface dependencies (cf. Halliday 1964: 303).

4 We enclose linguistic samples in single quotes, excluding all punctuat\ ion not part of the sample. We use double quotes with conventional punctuation for al\ l other purposes.

5 On coherence, see Harweg (1968); Karttunen (1968); Bellert (1970)\ ; van Dijk (1972a, 1977a); Kintsch (1974); Beaugrande (1980a). “Coherence” has often been confused or conflated with “cohesion”; but the distinction between connectivity of the surface and connectivity of underlying content is indispensable (cf\ . Widdowson 1973; Coulthard 1977; Beaugrande, 1980a).

6 For different but largely compatible discussions of causality, cf. Sch\ ank (1975); Wilks (1977b). We mention some typical “junctives” that signal causality later on http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (19 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics (IV.46). 7 Some “junctives” for temporal proximity are given in IV.47. On event boundaries, cf. III.24.

8 In V.1, we distinguish between “meaning” as the potential of language expressions (or other signs) for being significant, and “sense” as the knowledge actually conveyed by expressions in occurring texts.

9 “Intentionality” has been much discussed under various conditions, but with inconclusive results. For more directly applicable work, see Wunderlich \ (197i); Hörmann (1976); Bruce (1977); van Dijk (1977a); Schlesinger (1\ 977); Cohen (1978); McCalla (1978); Wilensky (1978a); Allen (1979); Beaugran\ de (1979a, 1979b, 1980a) (compare also VI.6). Note that the producer of the text\ is not always identical with the presenter, e.g.1n the case of text allusion (IX.12)\ ; this factor falls under the notion of intertextuality (cf. 1.22 on parody).

10 On acceptability, see Quirk & Svartvik (1966); Greenbaum (ed.) (\ 1977). On acceptance of other participants’ discourse goals, see Cohen (1978); McCalla (1978)., Allen (1979).

11 This excerpt from The Pickwick Papers (Dickens 1836-37: 774) is slightly altered to make dialect features less difficult for non-native readers of Englis\ h. We adopt the compromise policy throughout of keeping the words, but normalizing idiosyncratic spellings that might be unclear.

12 On informativity, see Shannon (1951); Weltner (1964); Grimes (19\ 75); Loftus & Loftus (1976); Groeben (1978); Beaugrande (1978b, 1986a). Our use \ of the term is broader and less formal than in early work (cf. Chapter VII).

13 This excerpt is the first passage of Chanslor (1967: 9). For a full\ discussion, see Beaugrande (1978b).

14 Situationality has been treated less in linguistics proper than in so\ ciolinguistics and ethnomethodology; consult the papers in Gumperz & Hymes (eds.) (1\ 972); Bauman & Scherzer (eds.) (1974). A survey of sociolinguistics overal\ l is given in Dittmar (1976).

15 A narrower use of “intertextuality” is found in Kristeva (1968); for an outlook closer to ours, consult Quirk (1978).

16 We appeal to these notions below in 11.6, III.9, IV.11, 28, 37, VII.2\ 8, VIII.11, IX.11, and X.16 Click here to return to Table of Contents http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (20 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Introduction to Text Linguistics http://www.beaugrande.com/introduction_to_text_linguistics.htm (21 of 2\ 1) [29-07-2008 15:12:04] Chapter II Chapter II The evolution of text linguistics 1. Whereas only ten years ago the notion of “text linguistics” was familiar to few researchers, we can now look back on a substantial expanse of work. Surv\ eys and readers are widely available (see for instance Stempel (ed.) 1971; Dr\ essler 1972a; Fries 1972; Schmidt 1973; Dressler & Schmidt (eds.) 1973; Sitta & Brinker (\ eds.) 1973; Jelitte 1973-74, 1976; Petöfi & Rieser (eds.) 1974; Kallmeyer et al. 1974; \ Harweg 1974, 1978; Hartmann 1975; Schecker & Wunderli (eds.) 1975; Daneš & Viehweger (eds.) 1976; Coulthard 1977; Gülich & Raible 1977; Jones 1977; Dressler 1978; Gind\ in 1978; Grosse 1978; Kuno 1978; Nöth 1978; Rieser 1978; Beaugrande (ed.) 1980). T\ he picture that emerges from these works is diffuse and diversified, because there was n\ o established methodology that would apply to texts in any way comparable to the unifi\ ed approaches for conventional linguistic objects like the sentence.

2. Teun van Dijk (1979a) stresses that “text linguistics” cannot in fact be a designation for a single theory or method. Instead, it designates any work in langua\ ge science devoted to the text as the primary object of inquiry. Our brief overview\ in this chapter will be centred on a few exemplary studies which demarcate the gradual evolut\ ion of theory and method toward an independent, specially tailored foundation for the \ study of texts.

But first, we should glance at some historical roots with important impl\ ications.

3. The oldest form of preoccupation with texts can be found in rhetoric,\ dating from Ancient Greece and Rome through the Middle Ages right up to the present \ (on the current resurgence of classical rhetoric, see for example Corbett 1971; \ Winterowd (ed.) 1975; Plett (ed.) 1977; Brown & Steinmann (eds.) 1979). The traditi\ onal outlook of rhetoricians was influenced by their major task of training public orato\ rs. The main areas were usually the following: invention, the discovery of ideas; disposition, the arrangement of ideas; elocution, the discovery of appropriate expressions for ideas; and memorization prior to delivery on the actual occasion of speaking. In the Middle Age\ s, rhetoric belonged to the “trivium” (three studies) alongside grammar (formal language patterns, usually Latin and Greek) and logic (construction of argument\ s and proofs).

4. Rhetoric shares several concerns with the kind of text linguistics we\ are exploring http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (1 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II here (cf. Spillner 1977), notably the assumptions that: 1 (a) accessing arranging of ideas is open to systematic control; (b) the transition between ideas and expressions can be subjected to c\ onscious training; (c) among the various texts which express a given configuration of ide\ as, some are of higher quality than others; (d) judgements of texts can be made in terms of their effects upon the\ audience of receivers; (e) texts are vehicles of purposeful interaction.

5. Within limits, researchers can study units of sound and form, or form\ al patterns of sentences, from a relatively abstract standpoint. But many aspects of te\ xts only appear systematic in view of how texts are produced, presented, and received. W\ hereas the conventional linguistic question might be: “What structures can analysis uncover in a language?”, our question (cf. III.6) would be rather: “How are discoverable structures built through operations of decision and selection, and what are the imp\ lications of those operations for communicative interaction?” It is plain that classical rhetoric, despite its different terms and methods, was vitally involved in seeking the answer \ to the second question.

6. A similar conclusion can be drawn about the traditional domain of sty\ listics. Quintilian, an early theoretician (1st century A.D.), named four qualities of styl\ e: correctness, clarity, elegance, and appropriateness. While correctness depends on conformity with prestigious usage, and appropriateness is presumably definable in terms \ similar to our own notion (cf. I.23), the notions of clarity and elegance seem at fir\ st too vague and subjective to be reliably defined and quantified. They are akin to our n\ otions of efficiency and effectiveness, respectively, without being identical. Still, Quintil\ ian’s categories reflect the assumption that texts differ in quality because of the exten\ t of processing resources expended on their production (cf. III.28).

7. The range of stylistic studies in modern times has been rather multi\ farious (cf.

surveys in Sebeok (ed.) 1960; Spillner 1974). Recently, linguistics h\ as been employed as a tool for discovering and describing styles (cf. survey in Enkvist 1973). Despite the diversity of approaches, nearly all work reflects the conviction that st\ yle results from the characteristic selection of options for producing a text or set of texts. Hence, we might look into the style of a single text; of all texts by one author; of a g\ roup of texts by similar authors; of representative texts for an entire historical period; and ev\ en of texts typical of http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (2 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II an overall culture and its prevailing language. 2 Obviously, the methodological difficulties increase as we move along toward larger and larger domains.

8. The most neutral means for uncovering the selections made in a text o\ r set of texts is direct statistical tabulation of occurrences (cf. Doležel & Bailey (eds.) 1969). This method, however, obscures some significant considerations. The relative \ frequency of an occurrence is often less decisive than the immediate likelihood of fi\ nding it in the specific context currently evolving (cf. VII.5f.). What is expected within the norms of the language overall may be unexpected within a given context, and vice vers\ a (cf.

Riffaterre 1959, 1960; Beaugrande 197Sa: 39f). In addition, there are v\ ariations in the degree to which any option influences the identification of a style, e.g\ . by being more or less conspicuous. From considerations like the above, it follows that st\ yle is really only definable in terms of the operations carried out by the producers and re\ ceivers of texts— a major issue of concern in the present volume.

9. When modern linguistics began to emerge, it was customary to limit in\ vestigation to the framework of the sentence as the largest unit with an inherent struc\ ture (cf.

Bloomfield 1933: 170). Whatever structures might obtain beyond the sent\ ence were assigned to the domain of stylistics. This division does reflect a funda\ mental property of language. It is much more straightforward to decide what constitutes a g\ rammatical or acceptable sentence 3 than what constitutes a grammatical or acceptable sentence sequence, paragraph, text, or discourse. 4 When we move beyond the sentence boundary, we enter a domain characterized by greater freedom of selectio\ n or variation and lesser conformity with established rules. For instance, we can state\ that an English declarative sentence must contain at least a noun phrase and an agreeing\ verb phrase, as in that perennial favourite of linguists: [18] The man hit the ball.

But if we ask how [18] might fit into a text, e.g.: [18a] The man hit the ball. The crowd cheered him on.

[18b] The man hit the ball. He was cheered on by the crowd.

[18c] The man hit the ball. The crowd cheered the promising rookie on.

it is much harder to decide what expression for the ‘man’ should be used in a follow-up sentence (e.g. ‘him’ vs. ‘this promising rookie’), and in what format (e.g. active vs.

passive). Certainly, we have-no hard and fast rules which would force u\ s to prefer just one continuation.

10. For a science of texts as human activities, the distinction we have \ just raised is not http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (3 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II so crucial. If we assume that structures are always the outcome of intentional operations (cf. II.5), then even single sentences must evolve through selection r\ ather than being derived from abstract rules alone. Moreover, there are many surface rela\ tionships, such as noun followed up by pronoun, which can occur both within one sentence\ and among an extensive sequence of sentences. Thus, there are good motives for mer\ ging sentence linguistics with stylistics when building up a science of texts\ .

11. Texts have been a long-standing object of literary studies, though e\ mphasis was limited to certain text types (cf. X.13-18). Scholars have at various \ times embarked on tasks such as these: (a) describing the text production processes and results of an author,\ or a group of authors in some time period or setting; (b) discovering some problematic or contestable senses for texts; (c) assigning values to texts.

The attempt to make these tasks more systematic and objective has spurre\ d an application of linguistic methods to literary studies (cf. Spitzer 1948\ ; Levin 1962; Chatman & Levin (eds.) 1967; Jakobson & Jones 1970; Ihwe (ed.) 1971;\ Koch (ed.) 1972; van Dijk 1972a, 1972b; Ihwe 1972; Spillner 1974; Kloepfer 1975). \ Quite possibly, the expanded scope of text linguistics renders it still more useful in t\ his kind of application than the conventional methodology of describing structures a\ s such: we try to go beyond the structures and ask how and why texts are built and util\ ized (cf. o.6; X.16ff.).

12. Texts have also come under the scrutiny of anthropology in its explo\ rations of cultural artefacts (cf. X.8). Bronislaw Malinowski (1923) expounded \ the importance of viewing language as human activity in order to study meaning. Special at\ tention was devoted to myths and folktales by Vladimir Propp (1928) and later by C\ laude Lévi- Strauss (1960) and his followers. Anthropologists like these borrowed \ from linguistics various methods of structural analysis and description (cf. also Dundes\ 1962; Bremond 1964; Greimas 1967; Zolkovskij & Sčeglov 1967; Colby 1973a, 1973b). The operational approach of the kind we are following has been adopted more and more in \ the last few years (cf. Beaugrande & Colby 1979).

13. Anthropological investigation of little-known cultures was massively\ supported by a linguistic method known as tagmemics (developed largely by Kenneth Pike\ 1967; see also Longacre 1964, 1970, 1976). The method called for gathering and an\ alysing data in terms of “slots” and “fillers”, i.e. according to the positions open within a stretch of text and to the units that can occupy those positions. Tagmemics looks beyond\ the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (4 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II boundaries of both sentences and texts toward such large complexes of hu\ man interaction as a football game or a church service. The slot-and-filler \ method, a basic technique of code-breaking, is eminently useful for describing languages\ about which the investigator knows nothing in advance. The investigator uses means o\ f language elicitation which impel native speakers to produce utterances of particular types. \ 14. The integration of anthropology and linguistics in the tagmemic \ approach has provided invaluable documentation of many rapidly disappearing languages\ in remote regions. The major contribution to a science of texts lies in the system\ atic recognition of relationships between language and the settings of communication. Howeve\ r, a slot-and- filler approach is too rigid to encompass textuality as depicted in this\ volume; there must be operational processes before there can be any configurations of slots\ to fill in the first place. Again, we face the distinction between the discovery or analysis \ of the structures, and the procedures which select and build structures (cf. o.6; II.5; II\ I.6).

15. Sociology has developed an interest in the analysis of conversation \ as a mode of social organization and interaction (cf. X.8). For example, studies ha\ ve been conducted on how people take turns in speaking (Sacks, Schegloff & Jefferson 1974\ ). The field entitled ethnomethodology inquires into correlations between patterns of\ speaking and social roles or groups (cf. Gumperz & Hymes (eds.) 197.2; Bauman & Sc\ herzer (eds.) 1974): how people adapt their language behaviour in certain group encou\ nters; how speaking conventions are established or changed; how social dominances e\ merge in speaking; and so forth.

16. The study of conversation, sometimes also called discourse analysis \ (CF. Sinclair & Coulthard 1975; Coulthard 1977), is of vital import to a science of tex\ ts. The mechanisms which combine texts as single contributions into discourses a\ s sets of mutually relevant texts directed to each other, reveal major factors abo\ ut the standards of textuality. 5 Cohesion is affected when surface structures are shared or borrowed among separate texts (cf. IV.33; VI.26). Coherence of a single text may be evident only in view of the overall discourse (cf. IX.22f.). Intentionality is shown in the goal-directed use of conversation (cf. VI.16ff; VIII.13ff.), and acceptability in the immediate feedback (cf. I.15; VI.4). The role of situationality is particularly direct (cf. VIII.13), and the whole organization illustrates intertextuality in operation (cf. IX ‘3ff.). The selection of contributions to conversation can be controlled by the demands of informativity (cf. IX.

14).

17. We have rapidly reviewed some disciplines which, for various motives\ , share many http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (5 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II concerns with a science of texts. Indeed, the regrettable lack of co-ope\ ration among these disciplines in past times might well be due to the absence of a pi\ votal text science.

We shall now glance at some previous work in the field of linguistics pr\ oper, where the text was generally considered a marginal entity until it became hard to \ ignore any longer.

18. An early milestone emerged from philology, a forerunner of modern li\ nguistics, dealing with the organization and evolution of language sounds and forms\ in historical time. Comparing word order in ancient and modem languages, Henri Weil (\ 1844, 1887) detected another principle besides grammar: the relations of “thoughts” to each other evidently affects the arrangement of words in sentences. His investigati\ ons were renewed by Czech linguists (many of them in the “Prague School”) under the designation of functional sentence perspective (cf. IV.51-53; VII.18.4)\ . This designation suggests that sentence elements can “function” by setting the knowledge they activate into a “perspective” of importance or newness. In many languages, for instance, elements conveying important, new, or unexpected material are reserved f\ or the latter part of the sentence (cf. IV.52f.).

19. The emergence of modern linguistics in the present century (particu\ larly in the USA) was associated with methods which came to be termed descriptive or struc\ turalist. 6 Language samples were gathered and analysed according to systems of mini\ mal units.

Minimal units of sound were called “phonemes”; those of form, “morphemes”; those of word order, “syntagmemes”; those of meaning, “semes” or “sememes”; and so on. Each system of minimal units constitutes a level organized by the opposition \ of units and their distinctive features, so that each unit was in some way distinct from al\ l others. Hence, if a “system” is defined as “a set of elements in which each element has a particular function” (cf. III.2), then these systems were upheld by the function of distinctiveness.

When the several systems of a language had been identified and their uni\ ts classified, the language would have been completely described.

20. Even this brief outline of the descriptive structural method should \ indicate that it has no obvious provisions for the study of texts. Of course, one can analyse\ a text into levels of minimal units as depicted, but there is no guarantee that we will hav\ e uncovered the nature of the text by doing so. On the contrary, the extraction of tiny \ components diverts consideration away from the important unities which bind a text together\ .

21. Not surprisingly, early work on texts in this tradition was diverse.\ Zellig S. Harris (1952, reprinted 1963) proposed to analyse the distribution of morphem\ es in texts according to “equivalences”: relationships in which elements were the same or had the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (6 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II same environments. To increase the number of equivalences and thus to ma\ ke analysis more exhaustive, Harris applied the notion of “transformation” that was later adopted and modified by his pupil Noam Chomsky. A “transform” of the text gradually emerged with a maximum of equivalences. For example, to obtain a pattern equival\ ent to “you will be satisfied”, Harris transforms an earlier stretch of text from ‘satisfied customers’ to ‘customers are satisfied’—a familiar operation to sentence grammarians nowadays.

22. Despite the enormous impact of the concept of “transformation” (employed here for the first time in linguistics, as far as we know), Harris’s proposal for “discourse analysis” on distributional principles seems to have received little notice (see \ now Prince 1978). It is not fully clear what Harris’s method is supposed to discover. Whereas descriptive linguistics was centred on classification of units, the operation of “representing the order of successive occurrences of members of a class” had never been applied before (Harris 1952: 8). Harris himself admits (1952: 493) that the equival\ ences of structure among sentences tell us nothing about relationships of meaning (indeed,\ he is anxious to avoid appealing to meaning in any way); at most, “we can say what criteria a new sentence must satisfy to be formally identical with the sentences of the\ text”. As Bierwisch (1965a) shows in his critique of Harris, a very doubtful tex\ t can be set up which all the same satisfies the equivalence criteria being used. Still,\ Harris’s paper is an interesting proof that the cohesion of texts entails a certain degree\ of recurrence and parallelism of syntactic patterns from sentence to sentence (cf. IV. 12\ ff.).

23. Eugenio Coseriu’s (1955-6, reprinted 1967) study of “determination and setting” is based on entirely different considerations. He asserts that research on \ language demands the investigation not only of speakers’ knowledge of a language but also of techniques for converting linguistic knowledge into linguistic activity.\ He employs the notion of “determination” to show how word meanings can be applied, e.g. via “discrimination” (picking among possible referents of an expression), “delimitation” (singling out certain aspects of meaning), and “actualisation” (making potential knowledge currently active, cf. III.12), each of these having\ subtypes dealing with identities, individualities, quantities, class inclusions, specific\ ations, distinctions, and specializations. He then presents an elaborate classification of “settings” (“entornos”) based on such factors as cultural, social, cognitive, and historical sur\ roundings, degree of mediation between text and situation (cf. VIII.1), and range of con\ tent being addressed.

24. It is indeed lamentable that Coseriu’s proposals went unheeded at the time. The http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (7 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II issues he raised are only now being recognized as significant for the em\ pirical study of meaningful communication. Units of content are not fixed particles with \ a stable identity, but rather fuzzy agglomerates sensitive to the conditions of their usage\ (cf. V.4). Some of the bizarre side effects of subsequent attempts to describe language \ isolated from its uses and functions might have been averted if Coseriu’s ideas had been accorded the attention they merited.

25. The first large-scale inquiry into text organization was contributed\ by Roland Harweg (1968). 8 He postulated that texts are held together by the mechanism of “substitution” (one expression following up another one of the same sense or referenc\ e and thus forming a cohesive or coherent relationship). As his chapter o\ n “the phenomenology of pronominal chaining” (1968: 178-260) reveals, his notion of “substitution” is extraordinarily broad and complex, subsuming relationships such as recurrence (cf. IV.12ff.), synonymy (cf. IV.18), class/instance (cf\ . V.17), subclass/ superclass (cf. V.17), cause/effect, part/whole, and much more. 9 He stresses the directionality of substitution, i.e., the order in which something follo\ ws up whatever it is being substituted for. Although our own model has a different organizati\ on and terminology from Harweg’s, we will be concerned with many of the same textual relationships as those he described.

26. There were a number of other text studies based more or less on the \ descriptive structural approach, 10 but the main tendencies should now be evident. The text was defined as a unit larger than the sentence (cf. Pike 1967; Koch 1971; H\ eger 1976).

Research proceeded by discovering types of text structures and classifyi\ ng them in some sort of scheme. Occasionally, the framework of investigation was ex\ panded to include sequences of texts or situations of occurrence (e.g.1n Coseriu \ 1955-6; Pike 1967; Harweg 1968; Koch 1971). But in general, structures were construe\ d as something given and manifest, rather than something being created via op\ erational procedures of human interactants. We end up having classifications with \ various numbers of categories and degrees of elaboration, but no clear picture o\ f how texts are utilized in social activity.

27. Even within its own boundaries, the descriptive method eventually br\ eaks down in the face of complexity (when a language aspect is too intricate, and it\ s constituents too numerous and diversified, for full classification) and open systems (w\ hen a language aspect entails sets of unlimited membership). For instance, we can clas\ sify endless numbers of English sentences as distributions of morphemes and still not\ have http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (8 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II exhausted the patterns of all possible sentences. The language model usu\ ally called “transformational grammar” was well received when it offered a means of handling complexity and open systems: the infinite set of possible data in the st\ andard model, sentences of a language is seen as derivable from a small set of basic p\ atterns plus a set of rules for manipulating and creating more elaborate patterns.

28. This new approach leads to a different outlook on texts. Instead of \ viewing the text as a unit above the sentence, we would see it as a string composed of we\ ll-formed sentences in sequence. At first, Katz and Fodor (1963) argued that the\ text might as well be treated as one super-long sentence that happened to be joined by peri\ ods rather than conjunctions. This option is left open by the standard grammar, sin\ ce there is no limit on sentence length. But there are some structures which are less t\ ypical in sequences of separate sentences than within a single long sentence. 11 And the empirically given texts have doubtless assumed the format of separate se\ ntences for potent motives anchored somewhere in speakers’ knowledge of their language. There is no way in which the Katz-Fodor proposal could account for textuality in \ the sense we are using that notion.

29. Karl-Erich Heidolph (1966) notes that the factors of accent, inton\ ation, and word- order within a sentence depend on the organization of other sentences in\ the vicinity. He suggested that a feature of “mentioned” vs. “not mentioned” could be inserted in the grammar to regulate these factors. Horst Isenberg (1968, 1971) follows\ Heidolph with a further enumeration of factors which cannot be solved within the bounds \ of the isolated sentence, such as pronouns, articles, and sequence of tenses. He adds fe\ atures intended to capture the status of noun phrases, e.g. knownness, identity\ , identifiability, generality, and contrastivity. He also appeals to coherence relations li\ ke cause, purpose, specification, and temporal proximity.

30. Some time after these scholars had argued in support of text linguis\ tics, a group of researchers convened at the University of Konstanz, Germany, to particip\ ate in a federally funded project on the notion of “text grammar”. This group, centred around Hannes Rieser, Peter Hartmann, János Petöfi, Teun van Dijk, Jens I\ hwe, Wolfram Köck, and others, undertook to formulate an abstract grammar and lexicon that \ would “generate” a text by Brecht entitled ‘Mr K’s Favourite Animal’, i.e., that would assign structural descriptions to the sentences of the text. The results of the\ project (some of them set forth in van Dijk, Ihwe, Petöfi, & Rieser 1972) indicate th\ at the differences between sentence grammar and text grammar proved more significant than h\ ad been supposed. Despite a huge apparatus of rules, there emerged no criteria f\ or judging the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (9 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:12\ :13] Chapter II text “grammatical” or “well-formed. 12 Why might the sentences not be in some other order or format? The problem of common reference was not solved, but sim\ ply incorporated into the “lexicon” for the text. 13 A debate ensued between Werner Kummer (1972a, 1972b) and members of the project (Ihwe & Rieser 1972), in w\ hich he questioned the basic assumptions of the whole undertaking.

31. The Konstanz project is in some ways reminiscent of Harris’s (1952) “discourse analysis” (cf. Again, a grammatical method was applied to an unintended task, an\ d again, nothing seems to have been proven except that sentences share str\ uctural properties within a text just as much as within the grammar of a languag\ e overall. No standards for distinguishing between texts and non-texts were found. The\ rules certainly do not reflect the processes that would operate in producing or receivin\ g a text. Indeed, as Kummer (1972a: 54) notes, the “generating” of the text is presupposed by the investigators rather than performed by the grammar.

32. János Petöfi (1971) had already foreseen the difficulties of\ using transformational grammar for a theory of texts. He reviewed the “standard” theory (after Chomsky 1965) in which the syntactic structure is generated first and then a semantic \ interpretation” is performed, as compared to the generative semantic” theory (cf. papers in Steinberg & Jakobovits (eds.) 1971) in which the basic structure is a representat\ ion of the meaning and the syntactic form is imposed later on. Petöfi asks whether it mi\ ght not be expedient to construct a grammar with separate components for the speaker and for \ the hearer.

While the speaker would start with meaning and create a sequential patte\ rn, a hearer would begin with the completed sequence and work back to the meaning. 14 33. Petöfi’s 1971 volume ushered in the development of a vastly elaborate theory of\ texts, often called the “text-structure/world-structure theory” (“TeSWeST” for short). He has undertaken to distribute the various aspects of texts over a battery\ of representational devices derived from formal logic. As the theory evolve\ s, the number and complexity of its components steadily increases (see Petöfi 1980\ for a current version). The trend is to integrate more and more factors relating to t\ he users of texts rather than to the text as an isolated artefact. For example, the lexico\ n, which originally contained little more than the vocabulary defined for the text at hand (\ see van Dijk, Ihwe, Petöfi & Rieser 1972), is made to incorporate steadily more “commonsense knowledge” about how the world at large is organized (cf. Petöfi 1978: 43). Th\ e logical status of text sense simply does not emerge unless we consider its interaction with the\ users’ prior knowledge (see already Petöfi 1974). http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (10 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:13] Chapter II 34. In the 1980 version, components are offered for representing a text \ from nearly every perspective. To meet the demands of the logical basis, a “canonical” mode (a regularized, idealized correlate) is set up alongside the “natural language” mode in which the text is in fact expressed. Rules and algorithms are provided f\ or such operations as “formation”, “decomposition”, “construction”, “description”, “interpretation”, and “translation”. 15 The reference of the text to objects or situations in the world is handled by a “world-semantic” component; at least some correspondence is postulated between text-structure and world-structure.

35. Setting aside the technical details of Petöfi’s evolving model, we can view it as illustrative of the issues which logic-based text theories will have to \ face. Either established logics are employed, so that much of the texts’ nature is lost from view; or the logics are modified to capture texts more adequately (Petöfi 197\ 8: 44f.). Petöfi foresees intricate mechanisms to mediate between real texts and logicall\ y adequate versions of texts. Whether this undertaking will succeed, and whether it\ will then clarify the interesting properties of texts, remains to be seen. Perhaps a less \ rigorous, formalized approach would do more justice to the approximative way human\ s use texts in everday communication.

36. Teun van Dijk’s (1972a) monumental treatise, Some Aspects of Text Grammars, pursues a rather different range of considerations. Like Heidolph (1966\ ) and Isenberg (1968), 1971), van Dijk marshalled the arguments for text grammars in\ terms of problems that sentence grammars could not treat satisfactorily. His main\ object of study was literary and poetic texts, which often do not conform to conventions of grammar and meaning and still belong indisputably to the set of texts of a langu\ age (cf. IX.9). He concluded that there must be “literary operations” applied to sound, syntax, and meaning in order to obtain such unconventional texts, e.g. addition, deletion, and permutation (i.e., inserting, leaving out, or changing the basic materials). Lite\ rary metaphors served as illustrations.

37. An important notion which sets van Dijk’s work apart from studies of sentence sequences is that of macro=-structure: 16 a large-scale statement of the content of a text.

Van Dijk reasoned that the generating of a text must begin with a main idea which gradually evolves into the detailed meanings that enter individual sente\ nce-length stretches (cf. III.21). When a text is presented, there must be operat\ ions which work in the other direction to extract the main idea back out again, such as deletion (direct removal of material), generalization (recasting material in a more general way), and http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (11 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:13] Chapter II construction (creating new material to subsume the presentation) (van Dijk 1977a)\ . 17 Sentence grammars of course make no provision for any such operations co\ ncerning macrostructures, since the issue simply does not come up in the contempl\ ation of isolated sentences. Accordingly, van Dijk turned to cognitive psychology\ for a process- oriented model of the text. In collaboration with Walter Kintsch, he investigate\ d the operations people use to summarize texts of some length, notably stories\ (cf. Kintsch & van Dijk 1978; van Dijk & Kintsch 1978). 18 The typical summary for a text ought to be based on its macro-structure (see now van Dijk 1979b). However, resear\ ch showed that the actual outcome involves both the macro-structure of the text and pre\ viously stored macro-structures based on knowledge of the organization of events and si\ tuations in the real world (cf. our discussion of “schemas” in IX.25-28).

38. A still different line has been adopted in the work of Igor Mel’čuk (cf. Mel’čuk 1974, 1976; Mel’čuk & Žolkovskij 1970). He argues that the transition between “meaning” (Russian “smysl”) and text should be the central operation of a linguistic model, i.e. how meaning is expressed in or abstracted out of a text. “Meaning” is to be defined as “manifesting itself” in the “speaker’s ability to express one and the same idea in a number of different ways and in the hearer’s ability to identify a number of outwardly different synonymous utterances as having the same meaning” (Mel’čuk & Žolkovskij 1970:11). As might be expected from this declaration, the mainstay of i\ nvestigation is the construction of paraphrasing systems” (on paraphrase, cf. IV.18-19).

39. Mel’čuk envisions a meaning representation with its own “syntax”; that is, with a connectivity not visible in the grammatical organization. He arrives at \ a network which is in some ways similar to those we shall discuss in Chapter V, though he s\ ubdivides concepts into simpler units upon occasion. The units are taken from a “deep lexicon”, moved to the network, and then formatted with a “deep syntax” (“deep” in the sense of being composed of primitive, basic elements rather than words and phrase\ s of the text itself. 19 To create acceptable paraphrases, “weighted filters” are imposed on the selection of options.

40. The “text grammars” of Petöfi, van Dijk, and Mel’čuk are typical of recent attempts to redirect transformational generative grammar. Whereas the earlier resear\ ch simply postulated the same kind of structures among sentences as those that had been established within sentences, allowing only small alterations (e.g. Heidolph 1966; Isenherg 1968, 1971; van Dijk, Ihwe, Petöfi & Rieser 1972), the rece\ nt trends reveal a search for a fundamentally different conception of grammar. Mel’čuk’s model adapts the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (12 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:13] Chapter II paraphrase potential built into the notion of “transformation” (see Ungeheuer 1969) to focus the direction of the language model toward “imitating human behaviour in a purely automatic manner” (Mel’čuk & Žolkovskij 1970: 10). For this task, he adopts a new kind of meaning representation to capture cognitive continuity (cf. V.2). P\ etöfi shifts the operation of transformation from its original domain on the syntactic le\ vel only and allows transformations among different levels, so that more elaborate correspondences throughout the language can be developed. Van Dijk expands transformatio\ ns to describe cognitive processes that can render texts “literary” or produce summaries.

41. It is probably safe to conclude that virtually all models of texts a\ nd text grammars will make some use of the notion of “transformation”, but probably not the same use made in Chomskyan grammar. Moreover, many assumptions found in the older grammar\ such as the autonomy of syntax are likely to be dropped as the demands of mod\ elling human communication in real interaction become better defined. The trends indi\ cated by the work of Petöfi, van Dijk, and Mel’čuk illustrate this kind of evolution in theory and method.

42. This chapter has not been intended as an exhaustive survey of resear\ ch on texts.

Instead, we have merely essayed to mention some representative work insi\ de and outside linguistics. In particular, we intended to suggest the sort of a\ pproaches that arise when texts are investigated from various perspectives and for various mo\ tives. In most cases, the notion of “text” involved has been narrower than the one we are advocating ourselves (e.g.: unit bigger than the sentence; distribution of morphem\ es; sequence of well-formed sentences), but the scope is expanding steadily, as Petö\ fi and van Dijk have demonstrated. Accordingly, we view our own approach as an outcome of con\ tinual evolution rather than a confrontation or even refutation of previous the\ ories and methods.

Notes 1 We return to these matters in our sketch of text production (III.18-2\ 8).

2 The notion of a whole language having “style” seems out of place: how can the repertory itself be a selection? The selection involved here would be th\ e characteristic means which one language offers among the totality that could be availab\ le to language in principle. The “comparative stylistics” of Vinay and Darbelnet (1958) (cf. X.23) is quite revealing.

3 On judging grammaticality or acceptability, cf. VI. 21ff.

4 It will not help to view texts or discourses as super-long sentences (\ cf. Katz & Fodor http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (13 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:13] Chapter II 1963; 11.28) or as sentence sequences joined with “punctuation morphemes” (periods) (cf. Ballmer 1975). Sentences are judged by their cohesion, whereas te\ xts and discourses must possess all the standards of textuality enumerated in Ch\ apter I.

5 Our own use of the term “discourse” is that explained here, and is more compatible with Sinclair and Courtyard’s work than with that of Zellig Harris (1952), who also uses the term (cf. II.21-22). If, as we argue here, discourses inherit all \ the standards of textuality, we might want to make the discourse our central notion (see\ for example “discourse-world models” vs. “text-world models”, IX.23). But we might incur some disadvantages for treating single texts occurring by themselves.

6 Later, the term “taxonomic linguistics” was applied to this approach by transformational grammarians, whose work was also the description of str\ uctures (a very special use of the notion of “generative”) (cf. II.30). The most elaborate taxonomic work is that of Koch (1971), who devotes considerable attention to the\ implications of creating taxonomies.

7 We use the term level throughout to designate one of the systemic, sim\ ultaneously co- present aspects of a language or text, e.g. sound, syntax, meaning, plan\ ning, etc, and not a type of unit, e.g. morpheme, word, sentence, etc; the latter are b\ etter called ranks.

8 Like many early landmarks in text linguistics — e.g. Schmidt (1968), Koch (1971), and Wienold (1971)—Harweg (1968) was a habilitation dissertation directed by Prof. Peter \ Hartmann at the University of Münster (West Germany). The publicati\ on dates are all substantially later than the actual work.

9 When citing from various sources, we try to use our own terminology ra\ ther than that of each individual researcher, provided there are discoverable correspon\ dences, to save confusion and promote unity.

10 Most of these are found in the references in Dressler (1972a).

11 One example is “cataphora”, in which the pro-form appears before any noun or noun phrase supplying its content (cf. IV.23-24).

12 The notion of “well-formedness” has rather indiscriminately been expanded from grammar to domains where its application is rather doubtful. To prevent \ further confusion, we do not use the notion at all, assuming that all actually o\ ccurring texts are “well-formed” if intended and accepted as such; they may of course be inefficient, ineffective, or inappropriate (cf. 1.23). We will have enough to do wi\ th these real samples and need not try to concoct deliberately “ill-formed” texts on our own.

13 Concerning the “lexicon”, cf. II.33.

http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (14 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:13] Chapter II 14 But this model only captures some activities of real production and r\ eception of texts, dwelling with undue stress on linearization (cf. III.25f).

15 Such elaborate machinery is probably required for any logic-based mod\ el of texts with as wide a scope as Postfix’s. Petofi’s basic representation is, surprisingly perhaps, still first-order predicate calculus. For a lengthy treatment, see Biasc\ i & Fritsche (eds.) (1978).

16 In van Dijk (1972a), he used the term “deep structure” but dropped it later to save confusion with Chomskyan usage (cf. van Dijk 1979b). See note 19 to th\ is chapter.

17 Van Dijk makes no attempt to bring these notions into contact with th\ e similar work of David Ausubel or John Bransford. See also discussion in 1X.28.

18 Concerning story understanding, see note 22 to Chapter IX.

19 In transformational grammars, “deep” entities are primitive ones not capable of further decomposition, e.g. the structures of axioms. In the procedural \ approach, “deep” entities are those removed from the surface presentation; “deeper” processing therefore entails less identification and more integration and organization than s\ hallower processing (cf. III.9 and note 6 to Chapter III).

Return to main page of Introduction to Text Linguistics http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Two.htm (15 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:13] Chapter III Chapter III The procedural approach 1. For many years, syntax and semantics were studied with little regard \ for the ways people use grammar and meaning in communication. The use of language was\ relegated to the domain of pragmatics and left largely unexplored. In a procedural approach, however, all the levels of language are to be described in terms of thei\ r utilization.

Pragmatics is then the domain of plans and goals, and questions of use a\ re freely treated in syntax and semantics as well. Our notions of “cohesion” and “coherence” can be helpful in studying a text only if they deal with how connections and relations \ are actually set up among communicative occurrences. The concerns of pragmatics are dealt wi\ th by exploring the attitudes of producers (“intentionality”) and receivers (“acceptability”), and the communicative settings (“situationality”).

2. Linguists of all persuasions seem to agree that a language should be \ viewed as a system: 1 a set of elements each of which has a function of contributing to the w\ orkings of the whole. This definition is so general that its implications for langu\ age research can be highly diverse. For example, as noted in II.19, early study entailed ext\ racting systems of minimal units for each aspect of a language; each unit had the function \ of being distinctive from all the others. However, no one would equate this kind of system wi\ th the operations of communicating: people are not combining distinctive units in any dire\ ct or obvious way.

Indeed, empirical tests show that many abstract distinctions are not per\ ceptibly maintained in real speaking and are recoverable only from context (cf. \ Pollack & Pickett 1964; Woods & Makhoul 1973; Walker (ed.) 1978).

3. One’s outlook on an object of study depends upon the scientific tasks to be \ accomplished. The systemization of the object (discovery or imposition \ of a system in some domain of study)—a notion advanced especially by Carl Hempel—proceeds on the basic assumption that occurring manifestations are controlled by orderly\ principles rather than by randomness. The description of an object requires that we identi\ fy those orderly principles to the extent that the classification of samples can be objec\ tively and reliably performed. The explanation of the object, on the other hand, requires th\ at we uncover the principles whereby the object assumed the characteristics it has and whe\ reby the observable samples were created and used. A description of a language ma\ y be given quite independently of any stated or implied explanation. Indeed, descri\ ptions can be simplified by deliberately excluding many considerations which an explan\ ation would have http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (1 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III to address.

4. A case in point is the opposition between modularity, where the compo\ nents of a model are viewed as independent of each other, and interaction, where the comp\ onents are seen to interlock and control each other (cf. Sussman 1973: 12f.; Winog\ rad 1975: 192).

Modular systems are far easier to design and keep track of, since additi\ ons or modifications affect only specific elements; in exchange, however, syste\ m operations are vastly cumbersome (cf. Levesque & Mylopoulos 1979: 94). Therefore, the\ largely modular models of language developed in both descriptive structural linguistics \ and transformational grammar would provide only very inefficient operating s\ ystems for the use of language in real time. Language users would appear to be floating\ in an endless sea of minute structures on different language levels; how syntax and gr\ ammar interact with meaning and purpose remains a mystery.

5. There can be no doubt that real communicative behaviour can be explai\ ned only if language is modelled as an interactive system (cf. Walker (ed.) 1978)\ . The correlation between levels cannot be ignored or reserved for some after-the-fact pha\ se of “interpretation”. Tests show that a language model in which syntax is autonomous cannot \ function in real time because of combinatorial explosion: an immense ov\ er-computation of alternative structures and readings that run into astronomically vast\ operation times. 3 The understanding of the road sign [1] (‘slow children at play’), to take a very mild example, would demand too much processing if it had to be analysed indep\ endently of the context where it occurs (cf. I.19). The production and reception o\ f a text of greater length, if they had to be done without interaction of language levels an\ d cognitive or situational factors, would seem to be little short of a miracle.

6. Considerations of this kind have led to the inception of a procedural\ approach to the study of texts in communication. Here, the discovery of units and struct\ ural patterns, though still a central activity of investigation, is not a goal in itsel\ f. Instead, we are concerned with the operations which manipulate units and patterns during\ the utilization of language systems in application (cf. II.5). The TEXT figures as the ac\ tual outcome of these operations. Hence, a text cannot be explained as a configuration o\ f morphemes or sentences (cf. Chapter II): we would rather say that morphemes and sen\ tences function as operational units and patterns for signalling meanings and purposes d\ uring communication. The thoroughness with which text users actually organize \ and utilize morphemic and syntactic materials should be an issue for empirical resea\ rch under realistic conditions, rather than an a priori assumption dictated by a p\ articular theory. http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (2 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III 7. As Manfred Bierwisch (1966: 130) notes, there is no definite constr\ aint on the number of abstract grammars which could be set up for a language. It has been c\ ustomary to argue in favour of one grammar over another on the basis of criteria suc\ h as simplicity, consistency, and generality. In the procedural approach, however, the de\ cisive criteria must include operationality and human plausibility. 4 The intuitions of linguists can be no more than a heuristic, and do not constitute primary data (see discussi\ on in Crystal 1971:

105ff.; Spencer 1973; Ringen 1975; Snow & Meijer 1977). The validity of\ theories and models must be demonstrated from natural human activities.

8. Research along these lines entails a shifting of priorities among the\ issues to be explored. 5 For example, the distinction between sentences and non-sentences is absolutely indispensable for an abstract grammar, since it decides what \ the grammar should or should not allow. But if human language users are in fact demo\ nstrably unable to make such a distinction consistently as suggested by the research rev\ iewed in VI.23ff, grammaticality of sentences is only a default in a theory of language as\ human activity, that is, something assumed in absence of contrary specification (cf. II\ I.18). A presentation is likely to be rejected as a non-text only if the standards of textuali\ ty are so strongly defied (e.g. by total absence of discoverable cohesion, coherence, rele\ vance to a situation, etc.) that communicative utilization is no longer feasible (\ cf. I.3). Such a borderline can depend on factors outside the text itself, e.g., toleranc\ e and prior knowledge of the participants present, or type of text in use.

9. As the distinctions of sentence/non-sentence and text/non-text lose i\ mportance, the gradations of efficiency, effectiveness, and appropriateness gain (cf. \ 1.23). Those factors control what people say at least as much as do the abstract rules of gra\ mmar and logic.

Procedurally, efficiency contributes to processing ease, that is, the running of operations with a light load on resources of attention and access. Effectiveness elicits processing depth, that is, intense use of resources of attention and access on mate\ rials removed from the explicit surface representation. 6 Appropriateness is a factor determining the correlation between the current occasion and the standards of textuality\ such that reliable estimates can be made regarding ease or depth of participants’ processing. Notice that efficiency and effectiveness tend to work against each other. Plain lang\ uage and trite content are very easy to produce and receive, but cause boredom and leav\ e little impression behind. In contrast, creative language and bizarre content ca\ n elicit a powerful effect, but may become unduly difficult to produce and receive. Hence, a\ ppropriateness must mediate between these opposed factors to indicate the proper balanc\ e between the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (3 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III conventional and the unconventional in each situation.

10. The quality of a text as efficient, effective, and appropriate would\ be sensitive to the extent of processing resources expended upon its production and receptio\ n (cf. III.28). In principle, there is no cut-off point where production is definitively ac\ complished, but at most a threshold of termination where the producer finds the outcome sat\ isfactory for the intended purpose (cf. Flower & Hayes 1979: 17). Similarly, the receive\ rs’ judgement of text quality will affect the extent of resources they are disposed to ex\ pend on processing the presentation. There would be no absolute end to reception, but rathe\ r a threshold of termination where utilization appears satisfactory. In principle, someon\ e else could come along and revise the text still further or analyse it yet more thoroughl\ y. 7 11. The considerations we have raised suggest how difficult it would be \ to limit the study of texts to the artefacts of speech or writing alone. Those artefacts ar\ e inherently incomplete when isolated from the processing operations performed upon t\ hem. If we view a text as a document of decision, selection, and combination, then \ many occurrences are significant by virtue of the other alternatives which mi\ ght have occurred instead. Frequently, the basic organization of the language (e.g.1ts re\ gularities of sound, grammar, vocabulary, etc.) provide no decisive guidelines about what sh\ ould be chosen.

We must constantly seek to discover and systemize the motivations and st\ rategies according to which the creation and utilization of texts are kept in ope\ ration.

12. On the other hand, we must guard against allowing the text to vanish\ away behind mental processes. Recent debates over the role of the reader point up th\ e dangers of assuming that text receivers can do whatever they like with a presentati\ on. 8 If that notion were accurate, textual communication would be quite unreliable, perhaps \ even solipsistic.

There must be definitive, though not absolute, controls on the variation\ s among modes of utilizing a text by different receivers (cf. III.16). Beaugrande (198\ 0a) proposes that the text itself be viewed as a system, being a set of elements functioning togeth\ er. 9 Whereas a language is a virtual system of available options not yet in use, the te\ xt is an actual system in which options have been taken from their repertories and utili\ zed in a particular structure (relationship between or among elements). This utilization i\ s carried out via procedures of actualisation. 10 13. Since descriptive structural linguistics and transforma-tional gramm\ ar are both preoccupied with virtual systems, little research was expended on actual\ isation procedures until recently. Even at this early stage of inquiry, it now s\ eems clear that actualisation is organized in ways which are not directly applicable to \ virtual systems. For http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (4 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III instance, there seems to be a very heavy interdependency of decisions an\ d selections, both within one level and among different levels. This interdependency e\ xerts powerful controls on possible variations in utilizing a single text. If one parti\ cipant adopted an unconstrainedly idiosyncratic outlook on textual occurrences, communicat\ ion would be seriously damaged.

14. From here, Beaugrande (1980a) concludes that a text constitutes a \ cybernetic system which continually regulates the functions of its constituent occurrences\ . Whenever a textual occurrence falls outside the participants’ systems of knowledge about language, content, and purpose, the stability of the textual system is disturbed a\ nd must be restored by regulative integration of that occurrence, e.g. via additions or modi\ fications to one’s store of knowledge. Text utilization is blocked only if regulative integ\ ration fails, e.g.1f irresolvable discrepancies persist. Under normal conditions, participant\ s uphold systemic stability in maintaining a continuity of cognitive experience by discove\ ring the relations between each meaningful occurrence and its context. 11 Even where there are several possible relations that might be constructed, some are more satisfactory\ or probable than others and will therefore be given preference. 12 To the extent that preference knowledge is shared by a communicative community (or indeed, serves to identify such a community), the processing outcome of a particular text will be quite s\ imilar among all members of the community. Any noticeably idiosyncratic outcome will elic\ it special regulation, so that in time, the language user becomes aware of communit\ y preferences.

15. The awareness of community preference knowledge is by no means a com\ pulsion to conform to it. On the contrary, a text whose format and content were ent\ irely in conformity with established knowledge would possess an extremely low degree of informativity in the sense of I.17f. (cf. also Chapter VII). Complete knownness or, in cybe\ rnetic terms, total stability is evidently uninteresting to the human cognitive disposition.\ Communication therefore acts as the constant removal and restoration of stability through disturbing and resuming the continuity of occurrences. Hence, the awareness of preference knowledge cannot preclude creativity in textual communication; instead, it merely \ enables participants to find an orientation for creativity and to provide or rec\ over its motivations within a given textual system.

16. The above line of argument suggests how a systems-theoretical approa\ ch would resolve the dilemma of admitting human processes as factors in the utili\ zation or investigation of texts. The users of a system must be aware of the syste\ m’s functional principles, or else utilization will be impaired or blocked. Certain cla\ sses of occurrences, e. http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (5 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III g. ambiguities, contradictions, or discrepancies, which are likely to im\ pede utilization or to render it hard to control, are therefore considered inopportune except f\ or special effect (e.

g.1n-jokes or paradoxes). The standards of textuality we set forth in t\ his book are all relational in character, concerned with how occurrences are connected to others: v\ ia grammatical dependencies on the surface (cohesion); via conceptual dep\ endencies in the textual world (coherence); via the attitudes of the participants towar\ d the text (intentionality and acceptability); via the incorporation of the new a\ nd unexpected into the known and expected (informativity); via the setting (situationality)\ ; and via the mutual relevance of separate texts (intertextuality).

17. This emphasis upon relational continuity and connectivity allows us \ to study textuality and text processing in terms of formal problem-solving in the sense of N\ ewell and Simon (1972). 13 A problem is defined as a pair of states whose connecting pathway is su\ bject to failure (not being traversed) because it can’t be found or identified. A serious problem would obtain if the chances of failure significantly outweigh those of s\ uccess. The problem is said to be solved when a pathway is found leading without interruptio\ n from the initial state to the goal state. If a point is reached where the problem-solver \ cannot advance at all toward the goal, a block has occurred. Clearly, the crucial operatio\ n of problem solving is the search for connectivity between states. Three search types should\ be mentioned: 14 (a) In depth-first search, the problem-solver tries to dash toward the\ goal along one continuous pathway, giving little heed to alternatives as long as progre\ ss moves forward. If a block is encountered, the problem-solver moves back only f\ ar enough to get moving again and then resumes its dash forward. Depth-first search i\ s not very safe except when the pathway is obvious and uncontested.

(b) In breadth-first search, the problem-solver looks ahead only up to\ a proximate sub-goal and weighs the various pathways to get there. The best path is \ attempted, and, if success ensues, the procedure is repeated with the next sub-goal\ , until the main goal is eventually attained. Breadth-first search is circumspect an\ d safe, but may be inefficient and laborious if the pathway is obvious.

(c) In means-end analysis, the problem-solver identifies the main diff\ erences between the initial state and the goal state, and tries to reduce them o\ ne by one. If the differences seem too great, an intermediate subgoal may be taken for\ comparison first. While depth-first and breadth-first search can be used\ in forward means-end analysis, efficiency can be increased by working both forward \ from the initial state and backward from the goal state as seems opportune. Indee\ d, any state http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (6 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III along the way might be a useful control centre to work out from in eithe\ r direction.

18. We can now sketch out a model of the production of texts, using the\ notions presented in this chapter so far (compare Beaugrande 1979b; Flower & Ha\ yes 1979; Meyer 1979). The model foresees a loosely sequential set of phases of p\ rocessing dominance. We say “dominance” because it seems unlikely and unnecessary that the operations of one phase must shut down those of all the others; rather, \ there could be a threshold beyond which the focus of processing resources is directed to one phase of operations, while other operations are only reduced rather than suspende\ d. The notion of “dominance” helps to resolve the opposition between modularity and interaction (II\ I.4) by allowing the processor to distribute its activities in various proportio\ ns (see Winograd 1975)’. The interaction among levels (sound, syntax, meaning, etc.) is manag\ ed by a class of operations called mapping: the correlation of elements, structu\ res, and relations of different types. 16 It is not yet decidable how much organizational activity must be done within a single level before mapping is carried out to other levels. The\ re will often by asymmetry (lack of one-to-one correspondence) between levels, but defa\ ults (assumptions made when no specifications are given) and preferences (\ dispositions toward one option over others) for mapping would help to reduce current\ processing load (cf. VII.12).

19. Under typical conditions, operations are probably not strongly tailo\ red to the individual text materials. There ought to be powerful, general procedures capable o\ f accepting and adapting to a substantial diversity of data and occasions (cf. X.5). B\ obrow and Winograd’s (1977) notion of procedural attachment (specification or modification\ of standard operations for current needs) seems to fit here. The procedures would b\ e called by mechanisms of pattern-matching that detect a reasonable fit between curr\ ent and stored materials. 17 While the general procedures are running, specific details can be fille\ d in where suitable.

20. The first phase of text production would usually be planning (cf. F\ lower & Hayes 1979; Meyer 1979). The producer has the intention of pursuing some goal via t\ he text, e.g.

distributing knowledge or obtaining compliance with a plan (cf. I.13; V\ I.16ff.). In the most immediate sense, the production of the text is a sub-goal along the path\ way to the main goal. Through means-end analysis (III.17(c)), the Producer could try to calculate which of various possible texts would make the greatest contribution to reduci\ ng the differences between the current state and the goal state. If this question is hard t\ o decide, one may try breadth-first search by offering several texts in succession and hoping that one of http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (7 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III them will lead to success. The texts are integrated into the plan throug\ h plan attachment (a subtype of procedural attachment as explained in III.19).

21. The setting of a goal and the choice of a text type will be closely \ followed by (or will overlap with) a phase of ideation. An idea would be an internally initi\ ated (not environmentally forced) configuration of content providing control cent\ res for productive, meaningful behaviour, including text production. The mapping of a plan s\ tructure onto an idea (or vice versa) is doubtless intricate, especially when it would \ not be expedient to talk about the plan too openly. For instance, the goal of persuading people m\ ay demand elaborate searching for ideas that would be appealing to the group’s presumed view of the world, or that would change that view in a useful manner (cf. VI.16; VI\ II.17ff.) One would hardly announce the plan itself (cf. VI.8; VIII.1)!

22. Following ideation, a phase of development can serve to expand, spec\ ify, elaborate, and interconnect the ideas obtained. Development can be envisioned as a \ searching of stored knowledge spaces, i.e., internally organized configurations of co\ ntent in the mind.

Development may vary between summoning forth more or less intact spaces \ and bringing together very unusual constellations. The problem solving used to make c\ ontent coherent by connecting it via relational pathways (to be demonstrated in Chapter\ V) would be correspondingly more intense in the latter case. Still, if the text is t\ o be informative in the sense of chapter VII, there would be at least some new configurations in\ its textual world. 18 23. The results of ideation and development need not yet be committed to\ particular natural language expressions (cf. Flower & Hayes 1979: 24). They might\ , for instance, be composed of mental imagery 19 for scenes or event sequences. Hence, there must be a phase of expression to which the content accruing so far is relayed. Sea\ rch for expressions would be a special instance of problem-solving by constructi\ ng pathways from one level of organization to another. However, search would be supp\ orted if, as seems plausible, the activation of mental content naturally tends to spr\ ead out to the typical expressions stored for that content (cf. V.12). Already active\ expressions would then be taken as preferences in the sense of III.18.

24. A special kind of problem could arise here. Content such as mental i\ magery of a scene or of a sequence of gradual events might be continuous, while the \ expressions are more or less discrete elements an important illustration of the asymmetry mentioned in III.18. The text producer must decide upon the boundaries that scene com\ ponents or events should be assigned (cf. Halliday 1967-68; Miller & Johnson-Laird\ 1976; Talmy http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (8 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III 1978). Different expressions will frequently suggest boundaries of grea\ ter or lesser extent and distinctness.

25. Since the presentation of texts is limited to the sequential media o\ f sound or print, the final phase of production must be parsing: putting the expressions relay\ ed from the last phase into grammatical dependencies and arranging the latter in a linear format for the surface text. The repertory of grammatical depende\ ncies in a language such as English is much smaller than the repertory of conceptua\ l relations we would consider necessary (cf. IV.7ff versus V.26), so that asymmetry e\ nters once again.

There would be less asymmetry in languages with many grammatical cases t\ hat signal conceptual relations (e.g. Finnish, Hungarian). 20 26. The most prominent preference in linearization is that of adjacency, i.e. the elements in a grammatical dependency are arranged ‘next to each other in the progressive series.

Active storage (cf. IV.2; V.4) would be able to parse dependencies with maximum ease\ when the elements are kept in closely knit groups. However, many motivat\ ions readily override this preference. When a single element enters into several depe\ ndencies in a phrase or sentence, some of its dependent elements will have to be remov\ ed to some distance. In the opening of the ‘rocket’-text from I.1, the sequence:

[4a] A great black and yellow V-2 rocket 46 feet long contains one element ‘rocket’ entering into dependencies with a determiner (‘a’) and five modifiers (‘great’, ‘black’, ‘yellow’, ‘V-2’, ‘long’). Since these dependent elements cannot all be adjacent, conventions are applied for the ordering of modifier ty\ pes (cf. Vendler 1968; Martin 1969; Danks & Glucksherg 1971), e.g. size before colour. I\ n another sequence from the same text:

[4b] With a great roar and burst of flame knowledge of the world intervenes to indicate that ‘great’ modifies both ‘roar’ and ‘burst’ (the determiner ‘a’ not being repeated), but ‘of flame’ probably modifies only ‘burst’.

In contrast, the sequence of sample [6] running:

[6a] Great words or silences of love would preferentially be construed as having ‘great’ and ‘of love’ depend on both ‘words’ and ‘silences’. If the modifiers represented opposed concepts, however, for example:

[6b] Great words or silences of smallest size we would link each modifier only with the element adjacent to it. We can\ see that adjacency is a useful but relatively weak preference in parsing.

http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (9 of 15) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:21] Chapter III 27. We have briefly surveyed the phases that might plausibly constitute \ text production:

planning, ideation, development, expression, and parsing. As was caution\ ed in III.18, the phases should not be envisioned as running in a neat time sequence with \ clear-cut boundaries. It would be perfectly conceivable that all five phases could\ be interacting at once, with dominance shifting about rapidly. When difficult or unsatisfa\ ctory results emerge in one phase, dominance could shift back to a “deeper” phase (i.e. one further removed from the surface text under production) for new modes of organi\ sation. Later decisions may reveal that previous ones were not advantageous; for insta\ nce, development and expression may call forth changes in planning and ideati\ on. 22 Indeed, there may be some such principle as the “intention of the text” whereby the textual materials reveal organizational tendencies of their own during productio\ n and impose them upon the producer, provided operations are not terminated too soon \ (compare Iser (1980) on text intention in the reader’s viewpoint). In III.10, we suggested that production is an inherently open-ended process whose termination is carried out whe\ n a threshold of satisfaction is attained. Perhaps that threshold could be evoked by the \ emergence of such material-specific tendencies as depicted here. Yet even then, there migh\ t be potential left for still more revising.

28. The continued practice of text production could lead to a telescopin\ g of phases. A standard of text quality that once demanded much shifting among phases f\ or revision might become attainable in a single straightforward run-through. Writers\ or speakers who are considered talented and important may not appear to expend extreme e\ ffort on production, but they may offset shorter duration with correspondingly gr\ eater intensity of processing. Even they presumably had to work through early stages where \ vast expenditures were conscious and manifest. The “intention of the text” —if there are grounds for such a notion—might become easier to discern through extended experience.

That effect would explain why a practiced producer can improve upon othe\ r people’s texts (not just on his or her own) without having actually participated in t\ heir mental processes. 22 29. The receiving of texts could be modelled as a corresponding set of p\ hases of processing dominance in the reverse direction. 23 The receiver would begin on the “surface” with the presentation itself and work “downward” to the “deeper” phases. 24 The surface text would be parsed from the linear string into grammatical dep\ endencies (an operation we Outline in IV 7ff.). The elements in those dependencies ar\ e the expressions which activate concepts and relations in mental storage—a phase we could call concept http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (10 of 15) [29-07-2008 15\ :12:21] Chapter III recovery (cf. V.4). As the conceptual configuration accrues and shows \ densities and dominances, the main ideas can be extracted in a phase of idea recovery.\ The extraction of the plans which the text producer appears to be pursuing would be per\ formed during plan recovery. The receiver is now able to consider possible actions and\ reactions.

30. Since we explore the reception processes in detail in Chapters IV, V\ , and IX, we will not pursue them here at any length. We should however point out that the\ phases of reception, like those of production, need not be separated by rigid boun\ daries. There is more probably a shifting of dominance with extensive interaction and con\ sultation among the phases, especially when the results in any phase are considered doub\ tful or disturbing. There would also be variation in the intensity and duration \ of the phases, depending on such factors as: (a) the receiver’s judgement of the text’s quality (cf. III.10); (b) the degree to which the text’s content should be integrated into the receiver’s store of prior knowledge (cf. Spiro 1977; Beaugrande 1980c); (c) the receiver\ ’s cognitive and emotional involvement in the communicative situation. For instance, the \ amount of inferencing done by the text receiver might vary considerably (cf. I.11; V.34).

31. Consequently, text reception too would involve a threshold of termin\ ation where the comprehension and integration of the text is deemed satisfactory (cf. I\ II.10). If the text is important for the receiver, the threshold will be high. A professional l\ iterary critic, for example, would expend atypically great amounts of processing on specific\ literary samples, encompassing not only the most probable and easily recoverable \ aspects of format and content, but many more subtle subsidiary aspects as well. A s\ till more extreme illustration would be the analysis performed by a professional linguist \ uncovering not only the actually intended structural organization, but many possible alterna\ tives that normal text receivers would not be likely to notice.

32. In some respects, the reception of a text would not be a reversal of\ the procedures of production (cf. III.29). The receiver must try to anticipate the produ\ cer’s activities in order to react rapidly and intelligently. Here, receiving has the same directi\ onality as producing, i.e. the receiver is trying to emulate the production process, 25 thus rendering more immediate the recovery of main ideas and plans (III.29). Without the c\ ontinual creating and testing of hypotheses about what the producer is doing, the receiver could easily bog down in an undirected mass of alternatives and non-determinacies. There \ would be an explosion of structures and relations that processing could hardly handl\ e in any realistic expanse of time. 26 33. This very rough outline of production and reception will be filled i\ n somewhat in later http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (11 of 15) [29-07-2008 15\ :12:21] Chapter III chapters. It is a difficult object of investigation because many operati\ ons are hard to observe and control in a reliable experimental setting. We must set up p\ rocedural models which reflect the operations that might be responsible for the means whe\ reby texts are created and used. These models can be tested in two ways. First, their f\ unctioning can be simulated on computers, as is done in the field of research known as artificial i\ ntelligence (cf. surveys in Minsky & Papert 1974; Goldstein & Papert 1977; Winston \ 1977; Winston & Brown (eds.) 1979; X.26ff.). 27 Terry Wino-grad (1972) demonstrated how a computer could be programmed to use a Halliday-style grammar to process English u\ tterances about moving blocks on a table. Roger Schank’s theory of “conceptual dependency” views language understanding as the application of knowledge about sequences o\ f events and actions (cf. Schank et al. 1975; Schank & Abelson 1977). To the extent\ that they involve processing tasks, some issues of traditional text linguistics have been \ restated computationally, e.g. use of pronouns (cf. Grosz 1977; Webber 1978a: Ho\ bbs 1979).

Although the human mind may not handle language processes in exactly the\ same way as the computers, these machines are indispensable for testing whether c\ omplex procedural models can operate (cf. X.27).

34. Another line of inquiry is developing in cognitive psychology, the b\ ranch of psychology concerned with acquisition, storage, and use of knowledge (survey in Ki\ ntsch 1977a). 28 Here, models are tested against the cognitive and linguistic behaviour o\ f human subjects on such tasks as recognizing and recalling what has been heard or read. \ Although most work was devoted to sentences (survey in Clark & Clark 1977), texts ha\ ve become increasingly prominent objects of investigation. We shall review some tr\ ends in that domain in IX.24ff 35. It would be wrong to imply that the production and reception of text\ s are well explored at this time. On the contrary, we are only gradually achieving a consens\ us about what the issues are. The true complexity of the operations involved doubtless exceeds by several orders of magnitude the most complex models developed so far (cf. X.28)\ . For the present, we would like to imagine that complexity will still prove manag\ eable (cf. X.29), due to principles like procedural attachment (III.19) and general prob\ lem-solving (III.17).

Thus, although there would be a vast number of operations in text proces\ sing, there would be a reasonably small number of operation types, e.g. maintaining continuity and connectivity, testing hypotheses, matching patterns, computing probabili\ ties, planning toward goals, solving problems, and so forth (cf. X.4f.). In the follo\ wing discussion of the standards of textuality, we shall repeatedly return to these operation t\ ypes as illustrated http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (12 of 15) [29-07-2008 15\ :12:21] Chapter III via naturally occurring texts of many kinds. Notes 1 See for example Saussure (1916); Firth (1957); Hartmann (1963a, 1\ 963b); Coseriu (1967); Halliday (1976); Berry (1977).

2 Cited in Stegmililer (1969:205).

3 The importance of this factor emerged in early computer models of lang\ uage processing, e.g. Petrick (1965); cf. Woods (1970).

4 Compare the notion of “procedural adequacy” in Schank & Wilensky (1977).

5 Compare 0.6; X.6.

6 cf. Craik & Lockhart (1972); Mistler-Lachman (1974). We make no at\ tempt to state just how many “depths” there are in all, but these seem fairly safe: (1) substance of sound/\ print; (2) linear surface presentation; (3) grammatical dependency s\ tructure; (4) conceptual-relational text-world; (5) main idea; (6) plan. These “depths” moving from shallowest (1) to deepest (6) in the first will (except for (1), \ cf. note 2 to Chapter 1) be discussed later on in the chapter.

7 As Peter Hartmann (personal communication to RdB) observes, professi\ onal linguists have a disproportionately high threshold of processing and uncover far m\ ore structures than normal language users. Unfortunately, the linguist’s analysis has all too often been taken as a model of language comprehension, most drastically by transfor\ mationalists (cf. overview in Clark & Clark 1977).

8 See especially the papers in Warning (ed.) (1975).

9 cf. Hartmann (1963a: 85f.); Oomen (1969); Fowler (1977: 69).

10 Actualisation was already treated by Coseriu (1955-6).

11 The vital importance of continuity has all too frequently been overlo\ oked in linguists’ preoccupation with analysis into units and constituents. All the standar\ ds of textuality are closely related to continuity (cf. for instance III.16; IV.1; V.2; VII.\ 13; IX.29).

12, Our use of the term is rather broader than that of its originator, Y\ orick Wilks (see now Wilks 1979).

13 The “general problem-solver” was an early programme (Ernst & Newell 1969) in which powerful operations were decoupled from the specifics of tasks at \ hand. Our treatment is closer to that of Winston (1977) because of our network r\ epresentations.

See following note. http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (13 of 15) [29-07-2008 15\ :12:21] Chapter III 14 See Winston (1977: 90ff.; 130ff ) 15 The notion of “control centre” is crucial in understanding procedures of access (cf. for instance IV.7; V.24, 29f.; Beaugrande 1980a).

16 “Mapping” was originally a concept of formal logic, but it can also be operationa\ lised (cf. Goldman, Balzer & Wile 1977).

17 On pattern-matching, cf. K. Colby & Parkinson (1974); Kuipers (197\ 5); Pavylidis (1977); Rumelhart (1977a); Winston (1977).

18 To what degree a textual world (cf. 1.6; V.2) ought to match or dif\ fer from prior stored knowledge, and how this matching is done, are among the most burning que\ stions for a science of texts. Sec IX.31ff.

19 Mental imagery is an inordinately difficult issue (cf. Paivio 1971)\ , but it can’t be ignored (cf. VI.26; VII.10; IX.32).

20 Asymmetry would mean, in operational terms, problem-solving on intera\ ctive levels with units and paths of different size, range, and constitution. Still, \ the levels are mutually supportive at least some of the time (cf. V. 30).

21 On this use of the notion “deeper”, see note 6 to this chapter and note 19 to Chapter 11.

22 The writer Peter von Tramin (personal communication to WD) maintain\ s that, before he ever begins to write, he has already decided upon the content of the \ text, the course of events, the arrangement of the various segments, the assignment of ma\ terials to the foreground or the background, the use of retardation or expansion, the e\ lements of dialogue, and the characters of the story line. Such an example is doubt\ less unusual:

decisions like these would more often be made along the way during the w\ riting. A more disturbing phenomenon is how other writers can weigh one’s own decisions and suggest changes, even though they did not partake in the original planning at al\ l (cf. III.28 and note 22a to this chapter).

22a Indeed, revision often seems easier for non-producers of the text be\ cause the producer already knows the intended ideas and fails to see cases of inef\ ficient expression or downright error.

23 A reversible formalism which both parses the ‘rocket’-text onto a network and vice- versa is given in Simmons & Chester (1979); Beaugrande (1981b).

24 On “depth”, see note 6 to this chapter.

25 A procedure called “analysis-by-synthesis” (cf. Neisser 1967). http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (14 of 15) [29-07-2008 15\ :12:21] Chapter III 26 On “explosion”, cf. note 3 to this chapter.

27 “Intelligence” is taken to designate a human-like capacity to deal with a wide range o\ f diverse tasks and input (as opposed to the computer-like slavish depend\ ence on strict steps and rigid formats) (cf. Lenat 1977; Walker (ed.) 1978; Simon 1\ 979). Compare X. 5; X.26.

28 The cooperation of cognitive psychologists with computer scientists i\ n artificial intelligence has fostered the discipline of “cognitive science” (cf. I.24; X.3). Return to main page of Introduction to Text Linguistics http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Three.htm (15 of 15) [29-07-2008 15\ :12:21] Chapter IV Chapter IV Cohesion 1. We suggested in III.14 that the stability of the text as a system is \ upheld via a continuity of occurrences. The notion of “continuity” as employed here is based on the supposition that the various occurrences in the text and its situation o\ f utilization are related to each other, or in cognitive terms: each occurrence is instrum\ ental in accessing at least some other occurrences. The most obvious illustration is the la\ nguage system of syntax that imposes organizational patterns upon the surface text (the \ presented configuration of words). In using the term “cohesion” (“sticking together”), we wish to emphasize this function of syntax in communication. 1 2. The human mind is rather limited in its capacity to store surface mat\ erials long enough to work on them (cf. Keele 1973; Loftus & Loftus 1976). Materials are \ placed in active storage, a “working memory” where processing resources are distributed among elements of a presentation according to their importance (cf. Eisenstadt & Karee\ v 1975: 338f.; III.2, 6; V.4, 10). There appears to be a very short-lived imprint of visually\ or acoustically perceived materials upon which some provisional organization must be rap\ idly imposed (cf. Sperling 1960; Neisser 1967; Crowder & Morton 1969; Rumelhart 1970\ ). These provisionally organized materials can then be retained for some longer p\ eriods of time, but still only within modest limits. It follows that text processing cou\ ld not afford to run through the participants’ vast stores of world knowledge immediately; there must be some ancillary organizational system with far more limited options and patter\ ns. In natural language texts, this system is that of syntax, whose classes and structu\ res, though often more diversified than what is found in English, are still quite limited \ in number in comparison to the classes and structures for concepts and relations (cf\ . III.25ff.; V.30).

This account is borne out by observations that surface structures are mo\ re predominantly maintained in a “short-term” storage, and conceptual content in a “long-term” storage (Wright 1968).

3. The functions of syntax reflect these cognitive factors. Since gramma\ tical dependencies often obtain among elements not directly adjacent to each o\ ther (III.26), syntax must provide closely-knit patterns of various size and complexity\ into which current materials can be fit. 2 Hence, the major units of syntax are patterns of well-marked dependencies: the phrase (a head with at least one dependent element),\ the clause (a http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (1 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV unit with at least one noun or noun-phrase and an agreeing verb or verb-\ phrase), and the sentence (a bounded unit with at least one non-dependent clause). 3 These units can all be utilized in a short span of time and processing resources. For long-r\ ange stretches of text, there are devices for showing how already used structures and patt\ erns can be re- used, modified, or compacted. These devices contribute to stability (cf\ . III.14) and economy (cf. V.15) in respect to both materials and processing effort.\ Recurrence is the straightforward repetition of elements or patterns, while partial recurr\ ence is the shifting of already used elements to different classes (e.g. from noun to verb). R\ epeating a structure but filling it with new elements constitutes parallelism. Repeating cont\ ent but conveying it with different expressions constitutes paraphrase. Replacing content-car\ rying elements with short placeholders of no independent content constitutes the use of\ pro-forms.

Repeating a structure and its content but omitting some of the surface e\ xpressions constitutes ellipsis. One can also insert surface signals for the relati\ onships among events or situations in a textual world, namely by using tense, aspect, and jun\ ction. The ordering of expressions to show the importance or newness of their content yields\ functional sentence perspective. In spoken texts, intonation can also signal import\ ance or newness of content.

4. Cohesion within a phrase, clause, or sentence is more direct and obvious than cohesion among two or more such units. Even so, the issue of how these closely-knit units are built during the actual use of a text is worth our considerati\ on. Procedurally, the basic phrases and clauses of English can be viewed as configurations of \ links between pairs of elements, many of them having further linkage (cf. Perlmutter \ & Postal 1978; Johnson & Postal 1980). The question is then: how and in what order are\ these links created?

5. Abstract grammars suggest various answers to the question, but in gen\ eral, the real- time processes involved have not been prominent criteria for setting up \ such grammars.

We would like to point out a different kind of syntax which has been dem\ onstrated to perform the best in the simulation of language processing on computers: \ the augmented transition network (cf. Thorne, Bratley & Dewar 1968; D. Bobrow & Frase\ r 1969; Woods 1970; Christaller & Metzing (eds.) 1979). The network is a configurat\ ion of nodes, in this case, grammar states, 4 connected by links, in this case, grammatical dependencies. To move from one node to another, the processor performs a transition acros\ s a link. This operation demands the identification of the link as one of a repertory o\ f dependency types, e.g. “subject-to-verb” or “modifier-to-head”. The transition can be augmented with http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (2 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV any kind of search or access operation, such as specifying the exact cat\ egory to which the upcoming node belongs (Winston 1977: 172). A special kind of augme\ nting could test what conceptual relation corresponds to the grammatical dependency being\ created (cf.

V. 30).

6. In a transition network, the structures of phrases and clauses are op\ erationalised as means to build and test hypotheses about the types of elements to use or\ expect at any given time. Hence, these networks capture the grammatical strategies and\ expectations of language users; and they express the rules of grammar as procedures for \ using the rules (Rumelhart 1977a: 122). The phrase, clause, or sentence appears as an \ actually occurring grammatical macro-state in which elements are micro-states of \ the textual system. 5 The divergence between competence and performance is reconciled (vis-à\ -vis Chomsky 1965), because the rules are intended to stipulate the actual, \ rather than the virtual roles of grammatical dependencies (on actual/virtual, cf. III.1\ 2). 6 7. We can provide here only a brief glimpse of the transition network \ in action (for more details, see Winston 1977; Rumelhart 1977a; Beaugrande 1980a, b). Let u\ s model the processing of this simplified version of the opening of sample [4] in I.\ 1: 7 [4.1] A great black and yellow rocket stood in a desert.

As we noted in III.26, the linear sequence is partly misleading, since t\ he several modifiers are at unequal distances from their head ‘rocket’. Therefore, one main operation will be to maintain the “modifier-to-head” 8 dependencies as direct links. As soon as the determiner ‘a’ is set up, the processor enters a noun-phrase network, i.e. a macro-sta\ te, in which a head noun has at least one element depending on it. The processor sets u\ p the goal of accessing the head; thereupon, the head will be used as a control centre\ for the whole macro-state. 9 8. Figure 1 shows the processor moving along through the noun-phrase net\ work. It keeps predicting the head, but finding modifiers instead. Presumably, the hypo\ thesis of head is http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (3 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV given preference, but the hypothesis of modifier is next in line to be t\ ried (the order of preferences being of course subject to variation in different languages—we are only using English for our demonstration). We show this operation with a dotted li\ ne link for the failed hypothesis, and a continuous link for the successful one. When the junctive ‘and’ occurs, 10 the processor can confidently predict that (a) another modifier is fo\ rthcoming, and (b) this will be the last modifier before the head. These predicti\ ons are confirmed, so that the head is attained and links between it and all its dependent ele\ ments can be filled in as shown in the upper part of Fig.1. We can look at the operations in\ another perspective. The processor would place each occurrence of a single eleme\ nt on a hold stack until the entire macro-state was constructed, and then would build\ a grammatical dependency network from the results. A “hold stack” can be used as a “pushdown” storage where elements are entered in a certain order and removed in the\ reverse order.

Figure 2 illustrates the order for stacking our noun phrase: the times o\ f entry are on the far left, the labels of states next to the times, and the states themselves \ in the middle. When the head is found, the processor creates the network structure to the right. Presumably, the elements would be taken off the stack in the reve\ rse order from that of their entry. The small numbers along the lines are intended to i\ ndicate the order of the linkage according to that principle. However, the procedures actuall\ y used during communication may be more variable. 11 9. The rest of our sample would be run as the construction of a verb-phr\ ase network. This macro-state is entered upon encountering the verb ‘stood’, which is already the head. The processor can safely anticipate a modifier, but it would be expedient to\ augment the search by shifting to a greater degree of detail and looking for subclas\ ses of modifiers, e.

g. adverb vs. prepositional phrase. If the adverb were the preference hy\ pothesis, it would fail and yield to the prepositional phrase, the latter being a macro-sta\ te within the overall verb-phrase macro-state. The sub-goal is set up of finding the head of t\ he phrase, which, in this sample, follows its determiner (‘a’) immediately (‘desert’). Figure 3 shows the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (4 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV parsing out of the verb-phase in terms of a system of states, like Fig.1\ .

10. We end up with the sentence shown not as a linear sequence, but as a\ labelled transition network. The nodes are the grammatical states and the links a\ re the dependencies. Figure 4 illustrates the network in this fashion.

The role of such a network would be to organize the surface structure ac\ cording to the most direct access, so that the linear text could be read off it during \ production, or traced back to it during reception. 12 Although research on production is still very rare, there is some empirical evidence on reception that supports the model of the tran\ sition network.

Stevens and Rumelhart (1975) found that people’s syntactic predictions about how sentences would continue beyond a particular point agreed some 75 per ce\ nt of the time; and when readers altered a text while reading aloud, 13 their changes agreed 80 per cent of the time with their expectations established in the other tests. Thes\ e proportions of agreement are strikingly high and should be sufficient for workable proc\ essing. The application of expectations to the actual input would entail only minor \ specification and modification as foreseen by the notion of procedural attachment (cf. II\ I.19). In terms of networks, the transitions could be suitably augmented (cf. IV.9). The \ expected patterns would yield a reasonable match with current materials most of the time.

11. In closely-knit units such as phrases, clauses, and sentences, cohes\ ion is upheld by fitting elements into short-range grammatical dependencies. In long-rang\ e stretches of text, the major operation is discovering how already used elements and patterns can be re-used, modified, or compacted. The devices enumerated in IV.3 fulfil that function via http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (5 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV repetition, substitution, omission, and signalling relationships. These \ devices are far less obligatory than those which serve for closely-knit units: within the lat\ ter, missing elements are more noticeable and disturbing in immediately active storage. 14 Failure to complete a clause or sentence would be more disorienting than failure to use recurr\ ence, pro-forms, junctives, and so on. The long-range devices are thus contributors to efficiency rather than being grammatical obligations (Beaugrande 1980a): they render the\ utilization of the surface text stable and economic (IV.3).

12. The direct repetition of elements can be called recurrence, since th\ e original occurrence merely happens again (cf. Plett 1975). Recurrence appears o\ n various levels.

Weinrich (1972) shows that grammatical categories tend to recur rather\ than shift—a finding obtained by Harris (1952) via a different approach (cf. II.21\ f.). Van Dijk (1969) suggests that components of concepts recur to support the coherence of t\ exts. But we will glance here only at lexical recurrence, that is, repetition of the same words or expressions, as being the most noticeable sort. 15 13. Recurrence is common in spontaneous speaking, where restatement resu\ lts from short planning time and rapid loss of the surface text. Following a flas\ h flood, a distraught county supervisor made this observation (reported in the Gainesville Sun, 20 Dec. 1978.

We adopt the convention of underlining demonstration elements.):

[20] There’s water through many homes I would say almost all of them have water in \ them. It’s just completely under water.

When there are more resources and time available for text production, re\ currence is customarily kept within limits. If unduly frequent, it lowers informativity (in the sense of I.17f ) For this motive, Georgia Green (1968: 22) suggests that an ut\ terance like:

[21] John ran home and John ran home.

would be unacceptable, since it is pointless to say exactly the same thi\ ng twice. However, recurrence is prominently used to assert and re-affirm one’s viewpoint, 16 or to convey surprise at occurrences that seem to conflict with one’s viewpoint. We have samples of both uses here: [22] Marlow: What, my good friend, if you gave us a glass of punch in th\ e meantime?

Hardcastle: Punch, Sir! Marlow: Yes, sir, punch! A glass of warm punch, after our journey, will \ be comfortable. (Oliver Goldsmith, She Stoops to Conquer 1773: 24) Hardcastle is taken aback at being ordered around in his own house; he r\ epeats the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (6 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV requested item as if he had not heard right, and Marlow repeats it twice\ to reassure him and to re-affirm the request. In a like manner, recurrence can be used i\ n REPUDIATION as defined by Halliday and Hasan (1976): rejecting some material state\ d (or implied) in the previous discourse. The material is repeated to show exactly what is\ being rejected, e.

g. (Deeping 1930:729):

[23] “I think I told you that my name is Burnside.” “It might be Smith, sir, or Jones, or Robinson. “It is neither Smith, nor Jones, nor Robinson.” In this dialogue, Mr Burnside is combating the other man’s attempts to brush aside his identity with trivial, everyday names. Still another contextual factor e\ liciting recurrence is the need to overcome irrelevant interruptions and get on with a statemen\ t:

[24] Hardcastle: He first summoned the garrison— Marlow: Don’t you think the ventre d’or waistcoat will do with the plain brown?

Hardcastle: He first summoned the garrison, which might consist of\ about five thousand men— Hastings: I think not; brown and yellow mix but very poorly.

Hardcastle: I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, he summoned the\ garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men— (Goldsmith 1773: 23).

14. In poetic texts, the surface organization of the text is often motiv\ ated by special correspondences to the meaning and purpose of the whole communication. 17 In Tennyson’s (1930: 237) well-known lines:

[25] Break, break, break On thy cold grey stones, O Sea!

echoed in a later stanza with slight variation, the recurrences enact th\ e motion of the waves being described. Frost (1969: 224) closes a poem with the lines:\ [26] And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

in order to evoke the even, continual motion of the speaker’s journey in a sleigh through a snowy landscape at night. Uses like the above are instances of iconicity\ : an outward resemblance between surface expressions and their content.

15. In all of our illustrations [20-26], the recurring expression kept t\ he same reference, that is, it continued to designate the same entity in the “world” of the text (or discourse). 18 Hence, stability was strongly upheld with obvious continuity (cf. III.1\ 4). If a recurrent http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (7 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV expression has a quite different reference, the result can be disturbing\ , e.g. (Wilton Times, cited in Levin & Goldman 1978: 1):

[27] The bad news didn’t surprise Miss Ankrom, who is expecting a baby. She said she had been half expecting it.

Here, the lexical recurrence is not correlated with conceptual recurrenc\ e, the element ‘expect’ being used in two different senses (cf. V.1f.). 19 The pronoun ‘it’ is non- determinate and might be carrying forward either ‘news’ or ‘baby’. Although the latter alternative is bizarre, it forces itself on the receiver’s attention because of the recurrence.

16. PARTIAL RECURRENCE entails using the same basic word components but \ shifting them to a different word class (compare the device of “Polyptoton” in classical rhetoric). In this fashion, an already activated concept can be re-used while its expr\ ession is adapted to various settings. Here are examples from the American Declaration of Independence: [28.1] ... to assume among the powers of the earth the separate and equa\ l station ...

the causes which impel them to the separation.

[28.2] Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers \ from the consent of the governed.

[28.3] mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable .\ .. Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies In his survey of partial recurrences like these, Dressler (1979a) note\ s that the presence of the one expression allows the other(s) to be rare or entirely novel. H\ e cites the usage in Joachim Ringelnatz’s story about The ‘Whales and the Stranger: 20 [29] The famous skyscraper made of toasted banana peels . . . south of t\ he banana- scraper The expression ‘banana-scraper’ would hardly be intelligible in the sense intended here without recourse to the co-referent expressions before it. Dressler also\ notes a story by Erich Fried (1975) where the title of Turtle-Turning and the expression ‘turtle-turner’ are introduced without explanation until a later passage: [30] Everywhere he finds a helpless turtle fallen on its back, he turns \ it over.

17. Recurrence has the disadvantage, noted in IV.13, of reducing informa\ tivity. Therefore, techniques are often used in which forms recur with somewhat different c\ ontent, or content recurs with different forms. PARALLELISM entails reusing surface\ formats but filling them with different expressions. 21 In the Declaration of Independence, the British King is described as a walking disaster zone: http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (8 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV [31] He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns.

Here, a series of similar though not identical actions, are expressed in\ parallel clauses (verb possessive pronoun direct object) with a recurrent ‘our’ in the middle of each. In another passage of the same document, the king’s various actions are all expressed via present participles preceded by ‘for’: [32] For quartering large bodies of troops ... For protecting them ... F\ or cutting off our trade ... For imposing taxes ... For depriving us ... For transporting u\ s ... For abolishing the free System ...

Once again, there is some relatedness among these actions (all abuses o\ f power) which is emphasized by the parallelism of form. In addition, the repetition of\ formats evokes the repetition of the king’s actions; indeed, the expression ‘repeated’ is itself repeated shortly after:

[33] Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury.

By the same token, a reversal of form can stress a reversal of content, \ as in the closing words of the cited passage: [34] We must hold them Enemies in War, in Peace Friends 18. PARAPHRASE is the recurrence of content with a change of expressions\ , as illustrated in this passage (Beerbohm 1955: 56ff.): [35] I had never seen a murderer ... the decent symbol which indemnifies\ the taker of a life.

While [35] shows the paraphrase of a single concept (‘murderer’), [36] illustrates the paraphrasing of a more complex configuration (Govinda 1976: 206):

[36] When God became conscious of his omniscience, he suddenly felt terr\ ibly bored, because, whatever happened, he knew the outcome. There was no mor\ e any surprise; there was nothing that was not known beforehand.

It is not certain that the content of these underlined passages is the s\ ame. The question of paraphrase ultimately merges into the much debated question of synonymy.\ 23 There seem to be only a few natural language expressions whose virtual meanings are identically the same. But there are many cases where contexts of occurre\ nce determine the actual meanings (i.e., senses, cf. V.1) sufficiently that synonymy appears to be fulfilled, e.g. in [35] and [36] 19. Situationality can affect the outlook adopted on paraphrase and synonymy. Legal http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (9 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:37] Chapter IV discourse, for instance, is intended to define certain kinds of behaviou\ r beyond all doubt; accordingly, paraphrase is used richly in hopes of capturing every possi\ ble aspect of the intended content. The Gainesville Telephone Directory (1978-9: 16) quotes “Laws of Florida” which forbid using the telephone to make [37] any comment, request, suggestion, or proposal which is obscene, lew\ d, lascivious, filthy, or indecent.

Under normal conditions, each series-’request/suggestion/ proposal’, and ‘obscene/lewd/ lascivious/filthy/indecent’ would be taken as having elements meaning more or less the same (indeed, it might be hard to define one member of such a series wi\ thout using other members in the definition). Still, the law is intended to cover all pos\ sible shadings and varieties of such behaviour, and thus prefers to be repetitious and peda\ ntic if necessary.

Shakespeare’s Constable Dogberry provides an immortal parody of this legalistic tendency:

[38] Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have s\ poken untruths; secondarily, they are slanderers; sixth and lastly, they have \ belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are ly\ ing knaves.

(Much Ado about Nothing V i 224-9) The effect of this passage rests both on knowledge of the text type bein\ g spoofed (intertextuality supporting parody, cf. I.22) and on the failure of th\ e Constable to maintain it (confusing the numbers, ending with a non-legal term ‘lying knaves’). A textual discrepancy is matched with a discrepancy normally accepted in the “real world” (cf. IX.8; X.16).

20. Our examples should suggest some kinds of motivations that call for \ recurrence, partial recurrence, parallelism, and paraphrase. In general, these techn\ iques are deployed in order to insist upon relationships among elements or configurations o\ f content within the text, most often equivalence (but opposition can be stressed also, \ as in sample [34]. 24 It follows that these techniques will be used above all in situations wh\ ere stability and exactness of content can have important practical consequences, as in th\ e application of legal texts to real life. Not surprisingly, text producers will strive t\ o make texts fully determinate whenever a potential group of receivers is likely to contest\ detailed points.

For instance, this passage is taken from a union contract: 25 [39] Except for discoveries or inventions made during the course of appr\ oved outside employment, a discovery or invention which is made in the field in which\ the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (10 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV investigator is employed by the university or by using university funds,\ facilities, materials, equipment, personnel, or proprietary technological informatio\ n, is the property of the university, and the inventor shall share in the proceeds\ therefrom.

We see a veritable battery of the devices we have discussed above: recur\ rence (‘discoveries/discovery’, ‘inventions/ invention’, ‘made/made’, ‘university/university/ university’), partial recurrence (‘invention/inventor’, ‘employment/ employed’), and paraphrase (‘discovery/invention’, ‘investigator/inventor’, ‘facilities/materials/equipment’).

Note that the text could have been clearer yet with parallelism: [39a] a discovery or invention which is made in the field ... or which i\ s made with the use...

21. Everyday communication does not demand this degree of certitude most\ of the time.

More often, cohesive devices are used which shorten and simplify the sur\ face text, even though, along the way, there is a certain loss of determinacy (cf. IV.2\ 9; IV-37). One obvious device is the use of pro-forms: economical, short words empty of\ their own particular content, which can stand in the surface text in place of more\ determinate, content-activating expressions (cf. Karttunen 1969; Padučeva 1970; Dressler 1972a: 27).

These pro-forms free text users from having to restate everything in ord\ er to keep content current in active storage (cf. IV.2; V.4). The best-known pro-forms ar\ e the pronouns which function in the place of the nouns or noun phrases with which they co-re\ fer (i.e. share reference in the sense of IV. 15). 26 In this well-known children’s rhyme:

[40] There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do.

the pronoun ‘she’ makes it unnecessary to keep saying ‘the old woman who lived in a shoe’, ‘the old woman’, or even ‘the woman.

22. Sample [40] illustrates anaphora: Using a pro-form after the co-referring expression (cf. Postal 1969; Bresnan 1971; Edmonson 1976; Hankamer & Sag 1976; Kap\ lan 1976; Bullwinkle 1977; Camarazza et al. 1977; Webber 1978). Anaphora is the m\ ost common directionality for co-reference, since the identity of the conceptual co\ ntent being kept current is made plain in advance. 27 However, anaphora can still be troublesome if there is a lengthy stretch of text before the pro-form appears (cf. V.35ff.). B\ y then, the original elements could have been displaced from active storage and other candida\ tes may be mistakenly called.

23. The use of the pro-form before the co-referring expression is called cataphora (cf.

Halliday & Hasan 1976). Processing would require the creation of a temp\ orarily empty slot http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (11 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV a position on a hold stack, perhaps, in the sense of IV.8, until the required content is supplied. Such a mechanism would work best if the distance between the p\ ro-form and the co-referring expression is kept within limits, e.g. inside the bound\ aries of a single sentence:

[41] I don’t know if he’s serious, but my roommate wants to walk a tightrope over Niagara Falls.

Sample [41], taken from a student’s essay, is not the only kind of cataphora. A pro-form may look ahead to an entire event rather than an individual object, as i\ n Halliday and Hasan’s (1976: 56) example: [42] I would never have believed it. They’ve accepted the whole scheme.

Also, cataphora can be used to generate uncertainty and therefore to int\ ensify receivers’ interest (cf. VII.13). One story starts off like this:

[43] He was scarcely ten years old when he was first arrested as a vagab\ ond. He spoke thus to the judge: “I am called Jean François Leturc...” (François Coppée The Substitute, in Coppée 1891: 91).

A detailed self-description of the lad’s life follows, removing all doubt about the identity carefully withheld in the opening sentence. Receivers will be stimulated\ to find out how a ten-year-old of whatever identity comes to be arrested—problematic knowledge because apparently not easy to connect (cf. III.17). 28 The cataphora raises a momentary problem in the surface text and helps to propel the readers into the story.

24. To test whether this interest effect can be empirically documented, \ an experiment with the ‘rocket’ text (to be depicted in more detail in IX.25ff) entailed, among other\ things, showing a group of readers this rearrangement of the original [4] in I.1\ : [4c] Empty, it weighed five tons. For fuel it carried eight tons of alco\ hol and liquid oxygen. There it stood in a New Mexico desert: a great black and yellow \ V-2 rocket 46 feet long....

With the original opening sentence at the end of the paragraph, the pron\ oun ‘it’ in the new beginning is now cataphoric. The recall protocols did reveal a striking \ effect. Whereas only 30 per cent of the readers of the original recalled both fuels, 80 \ per cent did so after seeing the inversion. In exchange, 80 per cent reading the original reca\ lled the colours, while only 30 per cent did so for the inversion. Apparently, the markedn\ ess of the inverted opening caused only a redistribution of the readers’ attention rather than an absolute increase. This finding corresponds to the mechanism known as the “von Restorff effect” http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (12 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV concerned with special markedness (cf. Wallace 1965). Still, the usefu\ lness of cataphora for creating focus on some block of content, in this case, impelling rea\ ders to use content heavily in trying to figure out the co-referent for ‘it’, does seem clear. 29 25. Other elements besides nouns or noun phrases can be correlated with \ pro-forms. The verb ‘do’ is frequently employed as a pro-verb to keep current the content of a m\ ore determinate verb or verb phrase (cf. Karlsen 1959: 124ff ; Isačenko 1965: 172f.; Roggero 1968; Haskell 1973; Vater 1975: 37f; Halliday & Hasan 1976: 125ff.). In\ this instance (Goldsmith 1773: 36):

[44] miss hardcastle: I understand you perfectly, sir.

marlow (aside): Egad! and that’s more than I do myself.

the pro-verb ‘do’ stands for ‘understanding Marlow perfectly’. The pro-verb can, as we see, co-refer with a considerable block of content. In this text:

[45] To this day I am ashamed that I did not spring up and pinion him, t\ hen and there. Had I possessed one ounce of physical courage, I should have done so. (Beer\ bohm 1958: 57) the term pro-modifier might be used for ‘so’, or, more specifically, pro-complement (cf.

Steinitz 1968: 148ff ). The ‘so’ can stand for whatever modifiers were connected to the verb in the original verb phrase (cf. Bolinger 1970; Bouton 1970). In \ British English, ‘so’ is more often omitted in such usage than in American. In American English, \ the Inspector’s reply (Priestley 1980: 299):

[46] mrs birling: I don’t understand you, Inspector.

inspector: You mean you don’t choose to do, Mrs Birling.

would more likely be:

[46]a inspector: You mean you don’t choose to do so, Mrs Birling.

Another pro-form would be a pro-modifier like ‘such’ (cf. Hasan 1968: 78; Palek 1968:6iff.; Figge 1971: 175), as in:

[47] Gerald Middleton was a man of mildly but persistently depressive te\ mperament. Such men are not at their best at breakfast. (Wilson 1958: 3) Here, ‘such’ co-refers with the entire depiction of the ‘man’.

26. It would be wrong to imply that pro-forms must always co-refer with \ elements of the same type, e.g. pronouns with nouns, pro-verbs with verbs, pro-complemen\ ts with complements, and pro-modifiers with modifiers. Such correspondences are \ at best preferences which have the advantage of making already parsed grammatica\ l frameworks http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (13 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV re-usable. The pro-forms must also fit into the grammatical settings whe\ re they are needed. Consider this well-known passage (Julius Caesar I ii 194-5):

[48] Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.

He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

The co-reference of ‘Cassius/he’ is entirely straightforward: noun followed by pronoun, both in the subject slot of their respective sentences. In contrast, the\ pro-modifier ‘such’ carries forward the content of ‘has a lean and hungry look’ plus ‘thinks too much’ two verb phrases thus co-referring with a single pro-adjective. Some researchers \ (e.g. Lakoff 1968) would also classify ‘men’ as a pseudo-pronoun or quasi-pronoun on the grounds that it has only minimal content of little relevance, criteria that would includ\ e ‘thing’ as well as equivalents in other languages (German ‘Ding’, Italian and Spanish, ‘cosa’, etc.) (cf.

Green 1968: 25; Hasan 1968: 94f; Dougherty 1969: 513f.).

27. In addition, the pro-forms must often be correlated with entire clau\ ses (“clausal substitution” in Halliday & Hasan 1976: 130-141). The pro-form ‘so’ is especially versatile.

In this stretch of text:

[49] “Are you to get in at all?” said the Footman. “That’s the first question, you know.” It was no doubt; only Alice did not like to be told so. (Carrol\ l 1960: 51) the ‘so’ carries forward the entire content of what the Footman said. In the fol\ lowing usage:

[50] “Of course you agree to have a battle?” Tweedledee said in a calmer tone. “I suppose so,” the other sulkily replied. (Carroll 1960: 241) ‘so’ signals affirmation of the other person’s utterance, and its converse would be ‘not’.

30. The “substitution of clauses” is carried out by pro-forms which signal that the content of the clauses is to be kept active, not their surface format. 28 The settings of pro-forms also vary in regard to specificity. Lakoff (1968) suggests that the us\ ual progress’ starts with the most specific and determinate content and moves toward the leas\ t. We might have a sequence of (a) proper name, (b) specific description, (c) \ general class (pseudo- pronoun in the sense of IV.26), and (d) pro-form. An illustration mig\ ht be: [51] Napoleon arrived at the palace. The conqueror of Austria was in hig\ h spirits. I never saw such an elated man. He hardly ever stopped talking.

This progression is probable because the content should be most clearly \ specified at the first use before re-use later on. However, a reversal of the progression\ could be a striking means to reveal the identity of the referent bit by bit. That tactic is \ in fact used in a story by Nikolai Leskov (196i: 55):

http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (14 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV [52] Who should walk in but a venerable old man in whom His Grace immedi\ ately recognized one of the saints of the church, no other than the Right Reve\ rend Sergius.

Sample [52] shows how effectiveness can be increased by not following a convention set up for the sake of efficiency (cf. I.23; III.9).

29. The efficiency criterion is stressed in Beaugrande (1980a) as a pr\ ime motivation for pro-forms in general (cf. IV.11). At a certain point, however, a trade\ -off appears between compactness and clarity. Pro-forms save processing effort by being short\ er than the expressions they replace, but if those expressions are hard to locate or\ determine, the savings are lost again on search and matching operations. Various techni\ ques can be applied in non-determinate cases. Chafe (1976: 47) suggests that a sam\ ple like:

[53] Ted saw Harry yesterday. He told him about the meeting.

would be processed with a preference for keeping the subject status cons\ tant (Ted = he, Harry = him). 31 Another strategy would be to consult the organization of the situations\ , objects, or events in the textual world. When the Declaration of Independence says: [54] He has constrained our fellow Citizens . . . to become executioners\ of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

the pro-form ‘their’ is shifted in rapid succession from ‘Citizens’ to ‘friends and Brethren’; any other reading would not fit the events. The same factor applies to t\ he ‘rocket’ text that begins:

[4] A great black and yellow rocket stood in a New Mexico desert. Empty \ it weighed five tons.

From the standpoint of syntax alone, ‘it’ might co-refer with ‘rocket’, ‘desert’, or even ‘New Mexico’. The lexicon would not help, since no reasonable definitions would stipulate what a rocket, a desert, or the state of New Mexico ought to weigh. The co-re\ ference is simply resolved via the world-knowledge that the weight of a flying object such\ as a ‘rocket’ is problematic 32 (it may cause a flight to fail, cf. III.17) and hence likely to be me\ ntioned; parts of the landscape are seldom moved, so that their weight would be i\ rrelevant for normal tasks (and probably undiscoverable anyway).

30. The preference for problematic knowledge in textual discourse is a p\ ervasive principle of organization because it determines what people consider interesting and hence worth talking about (cf. Schank 1977; Beaugrande 1980a). Consider this fragm\ ent of a conversation:

[55] “Next morning he gets up, has a fire lit, orders in three shillins’ worth o’ crumpets, http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (15 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV toasts ‘em all, eats ‘em all, and blows his brains out.” “What did he do that for?” inquired Mr Pickwick abruptly (Dickens 1836-37:617) The pro-forms ‘do that’ might refer to all of the mentioned actions in Sam’s story (‘gets up’, ‘has a fire lit’, etc.), but there is little doubt that Mr. Pickwick’s question is only directed to the last-mentioned one. ‘Blowing one’s brains out’ is by far the most problematic, since no reason is apparent, whereas people ‘get up’, ‘light fires’, ‘toast crumpets’, etc., in the everyday course of life.

31. The same principle would apply to sorting out homonyms (words of th\ e same outward format but differing in meaning or function), such as the pro-form ‘one’ and the numerical ‘one’. The pro-form is often used for an unspecified member of a class, e.g.:\ [56] It’s a very distressing case very; I never knew one more so. (Dickens 1836\ -37: 128) where ‘one’ designates any (unknown) ‘case’ meeting the description ‘more distressing than the present case’. Similarly, ‘one’ can serve in place of an unspecified person, e.g.

(Govinda 1976: 15):

[57] One should not form judgements on the ground of such perceptions, n\ or should one allow one’s thoughts to be determined and led by them.

Now consider this newspaper headline (Gainesville Sun 20 Dec. 1978):

[58] San Juan Gunfire Kills One Text receivers will hardly construe ‘one’ as an unspecified person (‘San Juan Gunfire Kills People’), since that would not be informative: it entails no problem because gunfire can be fatal in any city. Hence, ‘one’ will be preferentially taken as the numerical, being the number of entities fatally affected by this particular shooting incident\ .

32. Another cohesive device contributing to compactness and efficiency i\ s ellipsis (cf.

Karlsen 1959; Gunter 1963; Isačenko 1965; Crymes 1968; Dressler 1970; Halliday & Hasan 1976; Grosz 1977). An examination of the sources just cited will \ reveal considerable dispute over what constitutes ellipsis, due to differences\ in the requirements of a grammar. If the criteria for well-formedness and logical stringency\ are very extensive, a great many real texts will appear elliptical. 33 In the procedural approach advocated here, ellipsis is present only when text processing involves an apperceptible discontinuity in the surface text. The question of whether a given sample is truly elliptical must eventually be decided empirically (which surface structures do text use\ rs consider discontinuous?).

33. Usually, ellipsis functions via a sharing of structural components a\ mong clauses of the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (16 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV surface text. The typical case is anaphoric, i.e. the complete structure\ occurs before the elliptical one (cf. IV.22):

[59] Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their treasure (Shakespeare Sonnet XX) In [59], the verb ‘be’ from the first clause is needed to complete the second (‘thy love’s use be their treasure’). The complete structure should still be recoverable in such cases, so that the distance to the elliptical one must be kept within limits. E\ llipsis does, however, often occur in a new utterance unit rather than in the same one:

[60] The daughter is said to be well-bred and beautiful; the son an awkw\ ard booby, reared up and spoiled at his mother’s apron strings. (Goldsmith 1773: 14) A change of speaker may be involved:

[61] Brutus: Let Me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching palm; To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers.

Cassius: I an itching palm? (Julius Caesar IV iii 9-12) The recovery of the full forms (‘the son is said to be an awkward booby’, ‘I am much condemned to have an itching palm?’) is not difficult, even though, in [61], there is some distance between the complete stretch and the elliptical one.

34. Ellipsis is most noticeable when follow-up structures lack the verb \ a relationship called gapping by Ross (1970)—because in English at any rate, the verb is the least dispensable element in a clause. The ellipsis of subjects in independent clauses is \ not uncommon:

[62] He’s always asleep. Goes on errands fast asleep ... I’m proud of that boy—wouldn’t part with him on any account. (Dickens 1836-37: 55) The dispensability of subjects may be related to Chafe’s observation about subject roles (cf. IV.29); the subject slot is the likely place to direct attention \ when completing elliptic structures like ‘goes on errands’ because this role is assumed to remain stable. All the same, Leech and Svartvik (1975: 168) note that ellipsis of subjects in\ dependent clauses is rare in English, e.g.

[63] He was so tired that went to sleep. 33a even though there would be no trouble supplying the subject.

35. The ellipsis of subjects or other dispensable elements illustrates t\ he complexity of interaction between cognition and syntactic conventions. The identity of\ the missing http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (17 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV subject is beyond all doubt in [63]; yet such a construction is seldom u\ sed. A procedural approach is concerned with discovering the conditions under which ellipsis becom\ es frequent and why heavily elliptic texts are nonetheless comprehensible. \ The texts of Mr Alfred jingle, though admittedly eccentric in their fragmented format, a\ re not hard to follow:

[64] Fired a musket—fired with an idea—rushed into wine shop—wrote it down—back again—whiz, bang—another idea—wine shop again—pen and ink—back again—cut and slash—noble time, sir. (Dickens 1836-37: 11) Yet if the function of syntax in communication is, as we argued in IV.2f\ f, to provide a surface organization that constrains hypotheses about the organization o\ f underlying concepts and relations (a system with few options acting as a kind of “distant early warning” for a system with many more options), then partial use of syntax, as i\ n [64], would constitute a substantial processing strain. The problem-solving that imposes cohesion and coherence on discourse (see Chapter III) would have to wo\ rk unusually hard in all kinds of directions. Mr Jingle’s utterances are easy enough to piece together when supplied in print, but they could be confusing if we heard them spo\ ken.

36. Little research has been done on the processing of elliptical texts,\ because the well- formed sentence was usually taken as the obligatory unit for language ex\ periments. 34 The dominant role of the sentence in linguistic theories engenders the notio\ n that “perhaps all utterances are derived from implicit complete sentences” (R. Brown 1973: 209). However, this notion is hardly convincing and certainly not empirically proven. T\ he conversion of a text such as [64] to complete sentences could be useful, but is not nece\ ssary for processing. Moreover, it would be difficult to agree upon any complete v\ ersion. Quite plausibly, even ordinary processing might bypass some utilization of syntax whenever the expenditure of effort would outweigh the benefits; the processor would a\ ttempt to recover coherence more directly, doing only “fuzzy parsing” of the surface (cf. Burton 1976; VII.9).

Exhaustive utilization of syntax, possibly done by augmenting the transi\ tions of the grammar net (cf. IV.9), would be encouraged whenever other cues do not\ prove conclusive, e.g. in the presence of ambiguities.

37. Like the use of pro-forms, ellipsis illustrates the trade-off between compactness and clarity (cf. IV.29). Utilizing texts with no ellipsis consumes time an\ d energy. At the other extreme, very heavy ellipsis cancels out any savings of time and energy \ by demanding intensive search and problem solving. Text users must weigh the appropriateness of ellipsis to the setting to decide what extent will contribute to rather \ than damage efficiency (cf. III.9). This weighing operation is a typical difference between \ an abstract http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (18 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV system of syntax and a procedural model of syntax in interaction with ot\ her factors of textuality.

38. Cohesion is further supported by tense and aspect (cf. Reichenbach \ 1947; Weinrich 1964; Wunderlich 1971; Dowty 1972). 35 These categories are organised very differently in various languages (cf. Dressler 1972a: 47ff ) Usually, there are means\ to distinguish: (a) past, present, and future times; (b) continuity vs. single points; (c\ ) antecedent vs.

subsequent; (d) finished vs. unfinished. Some of these distinctions ar\ ise mainly from the perspective of the text users at that moment (e.g. past, present, and f\ uture are relative to the situation), and others from the organization of text-world situatio\ ns or events among themselves. When the verb systems do not make the distinctions explicit,\ modifiers or junctives should be used.

39. The strategies of text formation reflect some influences of the orde\ r in which tenses and aspects are used. In Hebrew, there is a sequence of tenses which mus\ t be used consecutively (Harweg 1968: 284). In Bahinemo, a language of Papua New\ Guinea, the verb of a single dependent clause at the beginning sets the time for all\ events and situations mentioned in the paragraph (Longacre 1970). In Godié of \ the Ivory Coast, the time need be set only once for an entire text (Grimes 1975: 23 2). In \ Xavante of Brazil, two distinct aspect systems are used for events vs. non-events (Grimes \ 1975: 93). In Mumuye and Longuda of Nigeria, a progressive aspect is used for settings\ as opposed to the main sequence of events (Grimes 1975: 234).

40. Such striking variety points up the enormous complexity and subjecti\ vity involved in the organization of time in a textual world (cf. Bruce 1972). The view\ that time is passing at a steady rate (a pre-Einsteinian, but commonly held view) is far le\ ss decisive than the interrelationships among situations and events that differ not only in d\ uration, but also in structure and importance. As Talmy (1978: 21) points out, the same eve\ nt can be expressed in different perspectives, e.g.:

[65a] The beacon flashed.

[65b] The beacon kept flashing.

[65]c The beacon flashed five times in a row.

In [65a], the event is seen as a closed unit at a single point in time. \ In [65b], the event is a multi-part unit extending over an unbounded expanse of time. In [65c], t\ he event is a multi- part unit with defined time boundaries. Fillmore (1977: 74) suggests t\ hat “any particular verb or other predicating word assumes, in each use, a given perspective\ ” on a “scene”.

The need for envisioning “scenes” in order to process even syntactic surface formats (e.g. http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (19 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV anaphora) has been eloquently illustrated by Dillon (1978: 70ff.).

41. Still, some consistent principles of time organization might be disc\ overable and relatable to systems of tense and aspect. If textuality rests on continuity, as claimed in III.14, text users would naturally see text-world events and situations \ as related.

Noticeable gaps could be filled by updating, that is, making inferences \ (in the sense of I.11; cf. V.32-34) about how the text-world is evolving (cf. Sacerdoti\ 1977: 15; Winston 1977: 386). For instance, when the rocket ‘rises’ in sample [4], we update its location from ‘desert’ to ‘sky’, its fuel supply from ‘eight tons’ to less, etc., without needing explicit statements. Some further principles of time organization have been propo\ sed by Leonard Talmy (1978): (a) plexity, the capacity of having multiple parts; (b) boundedness, the capacity of having discernible limits; (c) dividedness, the lack of internal continuity; and (d) distribution, the pattern of actions/events in a time unit. Though considered by bot\ h Halliday and Talmy to be “grammatical” notions, they are clearly traceable back to human cognition about events and situations (cf. Miller & Johnson-Laird 1976)\ . As in many other domains, the cohesion of the surface text rests on the presupposed coherence of the textual world (cf. Morgan 1978).

42. A clear device for signalling the relationships among events or situ\ ations is junction, the use of junctive expressions (in traditional grammars rather indiscriminately all called “conjunctions”) (cf. Gleitman 1965; Dik 1968; Tai 1969; Harweg 1970; Dougherty 1970-\ 71; R. Lakoff 1971; Halliday & Hasan 1976; Lang 1976; van Dijk 1977b). At l\ east four major types should be discussed:

(a) Conjunction links things which have the same status, e.g., both tr\ ue in the textual world.

(b) Disjunction links things which have alternative status, e.g., two \ things of which only one can be true in the textual world.

(c) Contrajunction links things having the same status but appearing i\ ncongruous or incompatible in the textual world, e.g., a cause and an unanticipated ef\ fect.

(d) Subordination links things when the status of one depends on that \ of the other, e.g., things true under certain conditions or for certain motives (preconditi\ on/event, cause/ effect, etc.).

43. These types are recognizable by the classes of junctives as surface cues for each.

Conjunction is most often signalled by ‘and’, and less often by ‘moreover’, ‘also’, ‘in addition’, ‘besides’, ‘furthermore’, etc. Conjunction is an additive relation, for instance, http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (20 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV when connecting two interdependent events or situations mentioned within\ a sentence, e.

g.:

[66] The great birds like to roost in trees in parks just outside the to\ wn, and since 1885 the local citizens have made the best of the situation. (TIME 26 March 1979) Conjunction can carry across the boundaries of the sentence:

[67] Sadat called this a means of protecting the “human rights” of the Gaza Palestinians.

And to ensure that Gaza attains autonomy, Sadat wanted a firm commitment\ . (TIME 26 March 1979) Conjunction can link utterances not formatted as complete sentences at a\ ll, provided an additive or interdependent relationship obtains:

[68] After all I’ve done for law enforcement and for them to treat me this way. (TIME 26 March 1979) Conjunction is the default junction, since, unless specified otherwise, events and situations are combined additively in a textual world. There is no motiv\ e to place ‘and’, ‘also’, ‘in addition’, etc. between all clauses or sentences; in fact, such a practice render\ s the text dull except for occasional special effects (compare the device\ of “polysyndeton” in classical rhetoric). The use of such junctives is more likely when inte\ rdependency is not obvious and should be stressed.

44. Disjunction is nearly always signalled by ‘or’ (sometimes expanded to ‘either-or’, ‘whether or not’, etc.). It is most commonly employed within sentences:

[69] A man must not be too precipitate, or he runs over it [his hat]; he\ must not rush to the opposite extreme, or he loses it altogether. (Dickens 1836-37: 49f.) Within a sentence, ‘or’ joins alternatives both of which are current in active storage, but only one of which obtains in the textual world. Between sentences, ‘or’ tends rather to announce an afterthought, an alternative not considered before:

[70] “Unless Mr Winkle feels aggrieved by the challenge; in which case, I subm\ it, he has a right to satisfaction.” Mr Winkle, with great self-denial, expressed himself quite satisfied already. “Or possibly, “ said the man, “the gentleman’s second may feel himself affronted.” (Dickens 1836-37: 31) Disjunction may not be so easy to process, since text users would have t\ o carry forward both alternatives in active storage until a resolution is found.

45. contrajunction is signalled most often by ‘but’ and less often by ‘however’, ‘yet’, ‘nevertheless’, etc. It is the function of contrajunction to cause problematic transit\ ions at http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (21 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV points where seemingly improbable combinations of events or situations a\ rise. In a sample like:

[71] Discouraged aides talked openly of the trip becoming a debacle. But\ at the last minute Carter achieved a victory of presidential diplomacy. (TIME 26 March 1979) the text producer deploys ‘but’ to alert receivers that the expected ‘debacle’ became something totally different, a ‘victory’. In this text:

[72] Carter was upset and angry. But Begin remained firm. (TIME 26 March 1979) contrajunction signals that a natural response to the anger of a powerfu\ l personage, namely conciliation, was not the case.

46. Subordination is represented by a large repertory of junctive expres\ sions: ‘because’, ‘since’, ‘as’, ‘thus’, ‘while’, ‘therefore’, etc. Subordinating junctives make common types of coherence relations explicit, such as those outlined in I.6-11 (cf. als\ o Chapter V). One type well represented by junctives is cause (necessary conditions, cf. \ 1.7):

[73] It would befoul Long Beach Harbour with oil spills and seriously wo\ rsen the local smog problem, because merely unloading the oil would release hydrocarbon\ fumes into the atmosphere. (TIME 26 March 1979) Reason (rational human reaction, cf. 1. 8) is also frequent:

[74] The judge refused, on the grounds that he lacked authority.

47. The repertory of ‘junctive expressions is large for the i relation of temporal proximity (cf. I.10) as well: ‘then’, ‘next’, ‘before’, ‘after’, ‘since’, ‘whenever’, ‘while’, ‘during’, and so on. Proximity can be sequential if events or situations are ordered in r\ espect to each other, e.g.:

[75] The President emotionally declared that he was “glad to be home”. Then he told the gathering what it had come to hear. (TIME 26 March 1979) Overlap can be indicated rather than sequentiality:

[76] The following day the Egyptian Cabinet also unanimously approved th\ e final details of the agreement. Meanwhile, the Israeli and Egyptian Defense Ministers met\ in Washington. (TIME 26 March 1979) Temporal proximity can involve a chaining where the termination of one e\ vent or situation coincides with the initiation of the next, possibly with causality impli\ ed as well.

[77] When Carter brought up Sadat’s proposals, Begin said they were “completely unacceptable”. (TIME 26 March 1979) http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (22 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV 48. Still another use of subordination is to signal modality, that is, t\ he probability, possibility, or necessity (or the opposites of those) of events and si\ tuations (cf.

Reichenbach 1976). The junctive ‘if’ marks a condition under which some event or situation would be true, e.g. in Mrs Thatcher’s campaign remark (Daily Telegraph 26 April 1979):

[78] We can have German standards of living if we have German standards \ of work.

Modality is important for projected events and situations, those which m\ ight happen or might have happened in a textual world (cf. V. 28). For past time, the\ re is usually no longer any possibility for the projection to be true:

[79] If the principle tower of Rochester Castle had suddenly walked from\ its foundation, and stationed itself opposite the coffee-room window, Mr Winkle’s surprise would have been nothing compared with the profound astonishment with which he heard\ this address.

(Dickens 1836-37: 24) The contrary-to-fact status of the walking tower and its results are, as\ we see, also signalled by marked verb tenses (‘had walked’, ‘would have been’).

49. The intricacies of junction are far greater than our sketch might im\ ply. Except for disjunction, the use of junctives as explicit signals is rarely obligato\ ry, because text users can recover relations such as additivity, incongruity, causality, etc. b\ y applying world- knowledge. We could delete the junctives from samples [66], [67], [73], \ [76], and [77], adding punctuation occasionally, without rendering the texts doubtful. B\ ut by using junctives, text producers can exert control over how relations are recov\ ered and set up by receivers. For instance, using ‘then’ in [75] makes it clear that the President’s ‘emotional declaration’ was not (as might be assumed if ‘then’ were deleted) what ‘the gathering had come to hear’; the producer can thus insert his or her own interpretation into the monitoring of the situation (cf. VIII.1).

50. In this perspective, junction demonstrates how communicative interac\ tion, not just grammatically obligatory rules, decides what syntactic formats participa\ nts use. Junctives can be a simple token of courtesy to help make reception of a text effic\ ient. They can assist the text producer as well during the organization and presentatio\ n of a textual world. They can, as we saw in IV.49, imply or impose a particular interp\ retation. Yet they are seldom to be found in every transition among events and situations o\ f an entire textual world. Apparently, a certain degree of informativity is upheld by not using junctives incessantly. There are other surface categories which can fulfil the sam\ e functions, e.g.

using causative verb forms (cf. Grimes 1964 for a comparison of Huichol\ and English) or http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (23 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV inserting interjections (cf. Gillich 1970; Franck 1979).

51. A special aspect of interaction between syntax, informativity, and c\ ommunicative settings has been stressed in functional sentence perspective mentioned \ in II.18. The mere placement of materials in the earlier or later stretches of clauses\ and sentences suggests the relative priorities and degrees of informativity of underly\ ing content (for discussions and surveys, cf. Mathesius 1928; Firbas 1962, 1964, 1966, 19\ 68, 1974, 1975; Halliday 1967-8; Beneš 1968; Chafe 1970, 1976; Sgall et al. 1973; Daneš (ed.) 1974; Dahl (ed.) 1974; Grossman, San & Vance (eds.) 1975; Grimes 1975; Fir\ bas & Golková 1976; Li (ed.) 1976; Jones 1977). The extent to which this aspect con\ trols syntax varies according to the number of other constraints that apply. In English, the\ lack of a differentiated morphemic system in many areas places heavy constraints o\ n word-order patterns. In Czech, with its richer morphemic systems, word order can fo\ llow the functional perspective much more faithfully (Sgall et al. 1973). 36 52. Since people tend to give a point of orientation before presenting \ new or surprising things, informativity tends to rise toward the end of a clause or senten\ ce. Consider the opening of a story from the Tibetan biographies of the Eighty-Four Siddh\ as (Govinda I 1976: 2 5).

[80.1] There once was a hunter called Savari. [80.2] He was very proud o\ f his strength and marksmanship. [80.3] The killing of animals was his sole occupation,\ [80.4] and this made his life one single sin. [80.5] One day, while he was out hunting, \ he saw a stranger.

The text begins with an empty expression ‘there once was’ that merely asserts the existence of the main character. The character’s profession and name are saved until the end stretch, with the more specific name following the less specific pro\ fession. The character now can appear as the subject of the next sentence, whose pred\ icate offers more material about his traits. Of course, a hunter could be readily exp\ ected to possess ‘strength’ and ‘marksmanship’; but in this story, the hunter will be defeated on precisely those two counts, such that the narrator is motivated to stress them her\ e. A format such as:

[80.2a] His strength and marksmanship made him very proud.

would create less focus on the crucial talents In [80.3], ‘the killing of animals’ makes a good beginning because it follows determinately from the already stated \ profession ‘hunter’; the new material is that this activity is his ‘sole occupation’ (i.e. unredeemed by works of kindness), leading into [80.4]. An anaphoric ‘this’ (in [80.41) keeps the content of http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (24 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV the preceding sentence active so that a characterization (‘a single sin’) can be added. The opening of [80.5] presents Savari in his usual occupation; the sentence \ ends up with the expression of a new arrival (‘stranger’) on the scene.

53. We shall look into informativity in more detail in Chapter VII. We w\ anted to note here that, since cohesion rests on the assumption of underlying coherence (c\ f. IV.41), the sequencing of surface texts gives signals about the shared knowledge to \ be applied during a given stage of the communicative interaction. For example, due \ to the strategic usefulness of presenting known material first, the subjects of English s\ entences are often, though certainly not always, expressions (re)activating established or\ predictable content (cf. Firbas 1966a). The latter stretch of the predicate is, in turn, e\ specially serviceable for creating focus.

54. A subsidiary cohesive system available only for spoken texts is into\ nation (cf. Halliday 1967; Crystal 1969; Lehiste 1970, 1975; Brazil 1975). In English, the u\ sual pattern is a rising intonation toward the ends of clauses or sentences, notably reach\ ing a peak on the last expression conveying substantive content. Although research was lon\ g centred on clauses and sentences, David Brazil (1975) has recently undertaken an \ account of intonation in whole texts or in texts within discourses. He adopts Halli\ day’s (1967) “tones” and relates them to types of discourse actions (cf. VI.11). Invoking (called “referring”) is done when the speaker presents predominantly known or expected material,\ while informing (called “proclaiming”) is done when the speaker presents predominantly new, unexpected, corrective, or contrastive material (cf. VIII.10). Hence, \ informing is more prone to elicit responses from other participants than is invoking. Ther\ e is also a neutral option not deemed to qualify as either action.

55. The tone is the rising or falling tendency of a tone group (a stret\ ch of text uttered as a unit). The basic choice is between a falling tone and a falling-rising (failing, then rising) tone (Tones 1 and 4 in Halliday’s scheme). The falling tone is normally used for informing, and the falling-rising for invoking. If we use arrows pointing either do\ wn (fall) or down, then up (fall-rise), we could have four patterns for the same two-part\ utterance, as in Figure 5 (examples from Brazil 1975: 6) http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (25 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV [81a] would be used if the hearer is assumed to know about the speaker’s reading ‘Middlemarch’, but not about future plans. [81b] would be appropriate if the reading \ of ‘Adam Bede’ were already known, but not the intended occasion or time of the readin\ g.

The reversing of the clauses, intriguingly enough, does not alter this o\ utlook: [81c] would work like [81a], and [81d] for [81b]. Apparently, the contrasting intona\ tion of the clauses makes the rising-falling one appear as background material and the falli\ ng one as foreground, irrespective of their order of utterance.

56. In addition, Brazil (1975: 7f.) identifies two marked or intensifi\ ed options indicating an extra measure of involvement on the part of the speaker. An intensified \ informing action would have a rising, then falling tone (Halliday’s Tone 5). If placed on the opening clause of [81b], rise-fall tone would stress the time of completing ‘Middlemarch’ (i.e. then and only then, then and not a moment sooner, etc.). Similarly, an intensifi\ ed invoking action would have a simple rising tone (Halliday’s Tone 2). If applied to the second clause of [81b], the effect would be to turn the utterance into a question, or in\ to a statement seeking support or confirmation in view of the speaker’s own uncertainty. The rising tone is especially suited for an insistent question, or, in ‘if’-clauses (cf. IV.48), an insistent condition. Finally, Brazil recognizes a low rising tone (i.e. rising only from low to mid key) (cf. IV. 57) as a “neutral” option used to avoid committing oneself to one type of discourse action (Halliday’s Tone 3).

57. This basic scheme is combined with a differentiation of keys going a\ ll the way back to Henry Sweet (1906). Mid key is the pitch considered normal for the circumstance, and high key and low key the pitches above and below the norm, respectively. Brazil argues that the usual discourse sequence is high-mid-low, because the high key \ suggests an http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (26 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV intention to continue the current stretch of discourse, and the low key \ an intention to end.

In particular, high key is prominently employed in contrasts, either between two stated chunks of material or else between the stated material and what might be\ expected.

Conversely, low key suggests equivalence of a chunk with a previous or expected chunk; stability is signalled by articulation with minimal effort. In an exchan\ ge like (Brazil 1975:

28):

[82.1] Where is he now? [82.2] In bed.

a high key answer would suggest that the location were bizarre or scanda\ lous, while low key suggests that it is only to be expected. Hence, the high key would e\ ncourage further discussion, whereas the low key would indicate that no more need be said\ . The mid key is neutral and noncommittal in this regard, and would therefore be used whe\ n one wishes to leave the option of continuing completely open.

58. Even our brief outline of Brazil’s scheme should reveal its important implications for the study of texts as human activities. Intonation not only links togeth\ er spoken surface texts; it also serves to qualify the linkage of concepts and relations both within the textual world and between the textual world and shared prior knowledge. Consider\ just the simple mechanisms of recurrence and paraphrase noted in IV.12-19 and IV.18-19, \ respectively.

When one participant repeats or paraphrases a text just presented by ano\ ther, the further development of the discourse depends crucially on intonation. A high-key\ recurrence or paraphrase elicits further explanation or justification, such as Hardcas\ tle’s exclamation ‘Punch!’ in sample [22]. A low-key recurrence or paraphrase would merely signal \ that the prior text has been heard and understood. A mid-key recurrence or paraph\ rase leaves it up to the producer of the prior text to decide whether anything more sho\ uld be added. In this fashion, the choice of key is a gauge of intentionality and acceptability as speaker and hearer attitudes about cohesion, coherence, and informativity. As such, intonation contours have noteworthy influence upon situationality (what is going on in a particular communicative setting) and intertextuality (how to frame your text in regard to other people’s texts in the same discourse). Moreover, any disregard for the demands\ of efficiency, effectiveness, and appropriateness can be immediately regulated; a high- key paraphrase would be used to respond to a severe disregard, while a l\ ow-key paraphrase would be used for a mild disregard.

59. This chapter has been devoted to the factors in text cohesion. We su\ ggested that short-range stretches of surface structure are set up as closely-knit patterns of grammatical dependencies; long-range stretches, in contrast, could be handled by re- http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (27 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV utilizing previous elements or patterns, economizing where possible. We \ progressed from cases where the surface occurrences simply happen again toward cases whe\ re greater compactness is attained. Recurrence entails the exact return of material\ s (IV.12-17).

Partial recurrence involves different uses of the same basic language it\ ems (word-stems) (IV.16). Parallelism is found when structures are re-used with differe\ nt materials in them (IV.17). Paraphrase obtains via approximate conceptual equivalence amo\ ng outwardly different materials (IV.18-19). We argued that these four devices are \ preferentially deployed when text producers wish to preclude uncertainty or contest. Fo\ r everyday use, other devices serve to compact the surface text: pro-forms are brief, em\ pty elements that are employed to keep the content of fuller elements current and, where e\ xpedient, to re- use basic syntactic structures (or compacted versions of these) (IV.2\ 1-3I); Ellipsis allows the omission of some structural components, provided that a complete ver\ sion is recoverable (IV. 3 2 7). Pro-forms and ellipsis evince a trade-off where compactness might become so extreme that no savings in effort are attained after all\ , because energy is drained away reconstructing things (IV.29ff.; IV.37).

60. We then progressed toward devices which overtly signal relations wit\ hin or among events and situations of the textual world. Tense and aspect can signal \ relative times, boundedness, unity, order, and modality of events and situations (cf. I\ V.38-41). Junction offers explicit markers for relationships of additivity, alternativity, \ incompatibility, and subordination through causality, time, modality, and so on (IV.4.2-50)\ . We concluded by reviewing the contributions of functional sentence perspective as a corr\ elation between priorities of knowledge or informativity and the arrangement of words in\ clauses and sentences (IV.51-53); and of intonation as the imposition of character\ istic audible contours of tone and key upon texts in discourse, providing major cues a\ bout expectations, attitudes, intentions, and reactions (IV.54-8).

61. Though by no means complete or exhaustive, our survey should make it\ clear why the notion of “text cohesion” is substantially broader than usual notions of “text syntax” or “text grammar.” The broadening arises from two factors: the operationalisation of syntactic or grammatical structures as configurations utilized in real time; and the \ interaction of syntax or grammar with other factors of textuality. Syntactic theories of the 1\ 980s and 1960s were not intended to account for those two factors, so that we may be co\ mpelled to develop new theories rather than ‘just “revising” or “extending” standard ones. We hope at least that we have raised some issues of the kind that new theories of text cohesion ought to encompass; and that we \ have set forth http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (28 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV motives for building such theories in the wider context of human interac\ tion.

Notes 1 As pointed out by David Johnson (1977: 153), standard sentence gramm\ ars, centred around notions like “dominance” and “precedence”, have made very little of relational linkage and dependency. “Relational grammar” (cf. Cole & Sadock (eds.) 1977) is intended to compensate for this neglect.

2 On pattern matching, see note 17 to Chapter III.

3 There are of course numerous other definitions of the sentence (surve\ y in O’Connell 1977), many of them inconsistent and confused.

4 The “state” of a system is the point where operations are centred at a given moment\ .

We can have “macro-states” or “micro-states” by adjusting our scope of operations toward larger or smaller. We can also have different types of states: gr\ ammar states in cohesion (cf. IV.6), knowledge states in coherence (V.31), plan stat\ es in intentionality (cf. VI.13f.), information states in informativity, states of objects \ and participants in situationality (see note 6 to Chapter VII), and so on. Like many theor\ etical notions, “state” also figures as an entity in textual worlds (cf. V.26(a)).

5 “Macro-states” could presumably join to yield a “macro-structure” in the sense of van Dijk (1979b); cf. II-37.

6 Note that the actual use may be different for the same element in diff\ erent dependencies. For instance, ‘in a desert’ is a “modifier” of the “head” ‘stood’, but ‘desert’ is also a “head” for the “determiner” ‘a’ (see Fig. 4).

7 In principle, the transition network should be equally applicable to p\ roduction and reception of texts, as has been logically and mathematically demonstrate\ d by Simmons and Chester (1979). There would be some obvious distinctions i\ n the type of search, since the producer is making the original decisions and the receiver o\ nly recovering them; but in both cases, linkages must be found and tested be\ fore use. We approach the matter here mostly from the standpoint of reception, since \ that is the use for which the formalism was designed in the first place (see references\ in IV. 5).

8 It may be better to subdivide modifier types, e.g. “adjective”, “adverb”, and so on; this question will have to be resolved empirically: do language users always \ make those distinctions? And if they do, what about cases that normal speakers migh\ t find hard to decide, e.g. ‘bright’ in ‘The moon shone bright’?

9 Cf. note 15 to Chapter 3. http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (29 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV 10 As noted in IV-43, conjunction with ‘and’ is essentially additive: it usually joins elements of the same type or status.

11 For example, there may be several transitions being tested and traver\ sed in parallel.

12 Sec note 7 to this chapter.

13 These alterations are called miscues (cf. Goodman & Burke 1973).

14 We do not suppose that people would build transition networks for the\ granunatical dependencies of whole texts (they would rather build up conceptual-rela\ tional networks after each stretch of text was processed, cf. Chapter V). But \ they might well have traces left of a previously built network that would make re-use ea\ sier than building something new.

15 On recurrences of other kinds, see the demonstration in VII.29-42.

16 Of course, limited repertories of language systems, especially phonem\ es, make a certain amount of recurrence unavoidable (cf. Werth 1976; Beaugrande 19\ 78b). Such recurrences would hardly be noticed. The use of recurrence for insistenc\ e is illustrated in VI.18; VIII.24, 26.

17 As noted in IX.9, poetic texts are definable according to their reorg\ anisation of mapping strategies onto the surface text. Receivers therefore focus more\ attention on recurrences of all kinds.

18 The discussions over reference among philosophers have been lengthy a\ nd seldom conclusive (survey in Lyons 1977: 174-229). The tendency is to \ try to explain all kinds of reference on the basis of the few marginal cases we can nai\ l down, e.g.

naming objects present. See V.40 for a different outlook, where referenc\ e is a factor of textual worlds, not of words.

19 The “sense” is the actual knowledge conveyed by a text element within its continuity of coherence (cf. V.1f.). Doubtful reference of course foll\ ows from doubtful sense but not necessarily vice versa (see note 18 to this chapter).

20 Where it can be done without distorting the demonstration, we provide\ our own translations of non-English samples and citations. The creative use of p\ artial recurrence is in conformity with the “general theory” of creativity outlined in Beaugrande (1979c).

21 For more illustrations, cf. VII-34.

22 For more illustrations, cf. VII-37, 41, and VIII.24.

23 See for instance Hirsch (1975). Some illustrations are noted in VII\ .37.24 The notion http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (30 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV of “equivalence” was central in descriptive linguistics (cf. II.2if.). In our usage, h\ owever, there is usually some degree of approximation; the important factor is t\ he stability of an actual system when occurrences (or blocks of occurrences) belong to\ the same general type. Such is the case here.

25 From the Agreement between the Board of Regents, State University System of Florida, and United Faculty of Florida, 1978-1981 (no date or place of publication), p.

22.

26 We use the term “co-refer” because it is well established, but we retain the reservations expressed in note 18. Perhaps “co-sense” would be more fitting than “co- reference” in some instances.

27 On different usage in Samoan, compare Chapin (1970).

28 The tendency to prefer problematic knowledge as discourse material is\ stressed again in IV. 29f.; IX.14, 26.

29 There may also be effects of primacy (the first part of a presentation being favoured) at work (cf. Meyer 1977: 308f.). See IX.37. 5 and note 23 t\ o Chapter IX.

30 On the many uses of ‘so’, cf. Halliday & Hasan (1976: 140) and accompanying discussion.

31 Reichman (1978: 290) points out an interesting case where a proper \ name is used rather than a pro-form, even though no confusion would be possible, appa\ rently because the person mentioned is outside the focus of attention; the pers\ on in focus is referred to via a pro-form.

32 See note 28 to this chapter.

33 The question is: “elliptical in comparison to what?” (Coseriu 1955-56). Alfred Whitehead was prone to condemning natural language because of its incomp\ leteness.

33a This construction is in fact used in Spenser’s Faerie Queene (I i 42): ‘but he againe shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake’. Dillon (1978: 118) classes such usage as “ungrammatical”.

34 The “cloze” procedure of omitting words periodically for test persons to supply is \ not really comparable to using ellipsis in spontaneous discourse.

35 In common usage, “tense” designates the inflection of verbs to show time relative to the act of discourse, while “aspect” subsumes the boundaries (beginning, completed) and duration of events as marked by verb inflections.

36 On many other languages, cf. Grimes (1975); Grossman, San & Vance (\ eds.) http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (31 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter IV (1975); Li (ed.) (1976); Grimes (ed.) (1978). Return to main page of Introduction to Text Linguistics http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Four.htm (32 of 32) [29-07-2008 15:\ 12:37] Chapter V Chapter V Coherence 1. If meaning is used to designate the potential of a language expression (or other sign) for representing and conveying knowledge (i.e., virtual meaning), then we can use sense to designate the knowledge that actually is conveyed by expressions occurring in a text.

Many expressions have several virtual meanings, but under normal conditi\ ons, only one sense in a text. If the intended sense is not at once clear, non-determi\ nacy is present. A lasting non-determinacy could be called ambiguity if it is presumably no\ t intended, or polyvalence if the text producer did in fact intend to convey multiple s\ enses at the same time. Though not yet well explained, the human ability to discover inten\ ded senses and preclude or resolve ambiguities is one of the most amazing and complex p\ rocesses of communication (cf. for example Hayes 1977).

2. A text “makes sense” because there is a continuity of senses among the knowledge activated by the expressions of the text (cf. Hörmann 1976). A “senseless” or “nonsensical” text is one in which text receivers can discover no such continuity, us\ ually because there is a serious mismatch between the configuration of concept\ s and relations expressed and the receivers prior knowledge of the world. We would defin\ e this continuity of senses as the foundation of coherence, being the mutual access and re\ levance within a configuration of concepts and relations (cf. I.6). The configuration u\ nderlying a text is the textual world, which may or may not agree with the established version o\ f the “real world” (cf. VII.18.1), i.e., that version of the human situation considered \ valid by a society or social group. Note, however, that the textual world contains more tha\ n the sense of the expressions in the surface text: cognitive processes contribute a certai\ n amount of commonsense knowledge derived from the participants’ expectations and experience regarding the organization of events and situations. Hence, even though \ the senses of expressions are the most obvious and accessible contribution to the mean\ ingful-ness of texts, they cannot be the whole picture.

3. Knowledge is not identical with language expressions that represent or convey it,\ though confusion on this point is rife in linguistics and psychology. 1 This confusion arises from the enormous difficulty in envisioning and describing knowledge and\ meaning without constantly relying on language expressions. Many researchers agr\ ee that a language-independent representation would be highly desirable (cf. for \ example Schank, http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Five.htm (1 of 26) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:50] Chapter V Goldman, Rieger & Riesbeck 1975). But so far, we cannot seem to agree o\ n any representational mode already proposed. This stalemate is no mere accide\ nt: instead, it reflects the nature of the entities we are trying to systemize (in the sense of III.3).

4. As argued in I.6, a concept can be defined as a configuration of know\ ledge that can be recovered or activated with more or less consistency and unity. This def\ inition is operational, based on the indisputable fact that language users, when em\ ploying or being confronted with a particular expression, tend to activate roughly the sa\ me chunk of knowledge (i.e. place the chunk in active storage, cf. III.26; IV.2). 2 Variations among different language users do not seem to be substantial enough to occasio\ n disturbances very often. It should follow from here that the meaning of a concept is \ the sum of its possible uses (cf. Schmidt 1968). Unfortunately, many concepts are so \ adaptable to differing environments that they remain quite fuzzy in regard to their c\ omponents and boundaries. 3 Therefore, defining concepts involves working with comparative probabilities: weaker or stronger likelihood that the concept will subsu\ me certain knowledge when actualised in a textual world, where each concept appears\ in one or More relations to others, e.g. “state of”, “attribute of”, and so on (cf. V.26). These relations constitute the linkage which delimits the use of each concept.

5. If concepts can indeed subsume different knowledge elements according\ to the conditions of activation, then concepts cannot be primitive, monolithic \ units. Instead, concepts must have their own components held together by a particular st\ rength of linkage. Components essential to the identity of the concept constitute \ determinate knowledge (e.g. all humans are mortal). Components true for most but n\ ot all instances of the concept constitute typical knowledge (e.g. humans usually live in c\ ommunities).

Components which happen to be true of random instances only constitute a\ ccidental knowledge (e.g. some humans happen to appear blond). 4 As Loftus and Loftus (1976:

134) point out, this gradation is also fuzzy. Very few components, for \ example, turn out to be absolutely determinate: birds can be birds even if they can’t fly or if their feathers are stripped off; tables might have all kinds of shapes and all numbers of l\ egs; and so on.

Labov (1973) tested the borderlines where people were willing to call \ a presented shape a ‘cup’ as opposed to other vessels (‘jar’, etc.), and found only partial agreement. Still, some gradation in strength of linkage is probably necessary if concepts are t\ o be operational.

The concept is, after all, designed to handle normal instances rather than bizarre counter- examples dreamed up in peculiar situations (e.g. philosophers’ debates).

6. It is one thing to agree that concepts can be decomposed into more basic units; it is http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Five.htm (2 of 26) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:50] Chapter V quite another to agree upon what those units might be (cf. le Ny 1979)\ . 5 Even straightforward cases can become entangled in irresolvable debates. For \ example, it ought to be fully reasonable to view the concept ‘kill’ as composed of ‘cause’, ‘become’, ‘not’, and ‘alive’; yet even here, controversy rages. And texts can be found where this simple analysis fails utterly:

[83] And though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected.

(All’s Well That Ends Well III ii 118-19) Evidently, the components of concepts are themselves not entirely stable\ , whether they be called “features”, “markers”, “primitives”, “semes”, “sememes”, or whatever. 6 7. Even if we could agree on the units which constitute concepts, we wou\ ld not have shown that the decomposition of concepts is a routine activity of text p\ rocessing.

Evidence for such routines is at present slight (Kintsch 1974: 242; J. \ Anderson 1976: 74; Hayes-Roth & Hayes-Roth 1977). And the unsettled questions are alarming\ . How many units would be needed for all possible concepts? Would the same set of u\ nits work for concepts and expressions? Given that people communicate via expressions,\ how are units acquired? How can we define the units without having recourse to t\ he same kinds of expressions or concepts that we are trying to decompose? Are there units\ which, in the worst case, are needed for only one concept or expression in the whole l\ anguage?

8. Perhaps it would be more productive to try working in the other direc\ tion: rather than asking how expressions or concepts can be cut into the tiniest possible \ pieces, we might inquire how expressions are assigned conceptual senses, and how senses are put together into large configurations of a textual world. Certainly, the building of textual worlds is a documented routine activity in human communication. This rev\ ersal of outlook would shift attention away from questions which adjudication a priori ca\ nnot solve (such as those in V.7) toward questions which can be pursued empirically (e.\ g. via reading and recall of texts, cf. IX.24ff). The fuzziness and instability of concept\ s and their possible components should become steadily less prominent when they appear in mor\ e and more determinate contexts of communication. In that perspective, the sense of\ an expression or the content of a concept are definable as an ordered set of hypotheses about accessing and activating cognitive elements within a current pattern. To describe such a sense or content, one would have to stand at that point in the configuration of c\ oncepts and relations and look out along all pathways (cf. Quilban 1966). 9 The study of language http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Five.htm (3 of 26) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:50] Chapter V meaning via this approach is the concern of a recent trend known as proc\ edural semantics (cf. Miller & Johnson-Laird 1976; Winograd 1976; Johnson-Lair\ d 1977; Levesque 1977; Schneider 1978; Levesque & Mylopoulos 1979). It is recog\ nized that in addition to declarative knowledge (statements of facts or beliefs about\ the organization of events and situations in the “real world”), communication requires procedural knowledge (facts or beliefs stated in formats intended for specific types of uses\ and operations) (cf.

Winograd 1975; Winston 1977: 390ff; Goldstein & Papert 1977; Bobrow & Wi\ nograd 1977). The meaningfulness of language in texts is just a special case o\ f the acquisition, storage, and utilization of knowledge in all manner of human activities.\ Since language use is highly differentiated and reasonably well regulated by social agr\ eement, the special case is perhaps the most promising approach to the general one (cf. X.7\ ).

10. When expressions are used in communication, the corresponding concep\ ts and relations are activated in a mental workspace we can hence term active s\ torage (cf. III.

29; IV. 2; V.4). George Armitage Miller (1956) reported that this wor\ kspace seems limited to only about seven items at a time. It follows, he observed, that effic\ iency would be promoted if the items were large, well-integrated chunks of knowledge ra\ ther than single, unrelated elements. Consequently, the knowledge that underlies textual a\ ctivities would normally figure as global patterns which are matched and specified to ac\ commodate current output (in production) and input (in reception) (cf. V. 16)\ . The difficulty in processing non-expected or discrepant occurrences (cf. VII.13) presuma\ bly arises because they cannot be handled as parts of well-integrated stored patter\ ns and must be held separately in active storage until they can be fitted in and accomm\ odated.

11. These patterns of knowledge might well look different according to t\ he demands of current processing tasks. Text receivers would use patterns for building\ and testing hypotheses about what the major topic is (cf. V.23) and how the textua\ l world is being organized. It follows that the topic pattern would be utilized more rich\ ly than subsidiary patterns of marginal usefulness for the text at hand (cf. V.16). Anoth\ er scale of difference would be the importance and relevance of the text for the receiver’s situation: as these factors rise, utilization of knowledge would become more detailed and th\ orough (cf. III.3 1).

12. When some item of knowledge is activated, it appears that other item\ s closely associated with it in mental storage also become active (though perhaps\ not so active as the original item). This principle is often called spreading activation\ (see Collins & Loftus 1975) and mediates between the explicitly activated concepts or relatio\ ns and the detailed richness which a textual world can assume. In production, spreading acti\ vation might work http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Five.htm (4 of 26) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:50] Chapter V outward from concepts or relations toward natural language expressions t\ hat could be preferentially used (cf. III.23). In reception, spreading activation m\ akes it possible to form elaborate associations, to create predictions and hypotheses, to deploy \ mental images, and so forth, far beyond what is actually made explicit in the surface t\ ext. Determinate and typical knowledge should be especially prone to spreading activation (c\ f. V.5), though accidental knowledge might also be involved if imprinted forcefully enou\ gh in one’s own experience.

13. There is some evidence of two different principles of storing and ut\ ilizing knowledge.

Endel Tuiving (1972) introduced the notions of episodic memory vs. sem\ antic memory to account for the distinction. Episodic memory contains the records of one’s own experience (‘what happened to me’), while semantic memory at least in the most appealing sense of the term 7 reflects the inherent patterns of the organization of knowledge, e.g. the structures of events and situations (‘what is true about the world at large and how it all fits together’). Of course, one’s experiences continually feed into one’s general views about the world, while the latter impose organization upon\ experience. Still, episodic knowledge would be heavily tied to the original contexts of enc\ ounter and would thus manifest many accidental traits. Semantic knowledge, in contrast, w\ ould be more dominantly organized in terms of the characteristics which all or most i\ ndividual instances have in common.

14. Since the times of Plato and Aristotle up through the Middle Ages ev\ en into the present, the comparative importance of experience vs. human reasoning po\ wers in the acquisition of knowledge has been hotly debated. Whether concepts can ex\ ist independently of all particular instances of them (as Plato believed),\ or whether they must all be extracted from personal experience (as empiricists asserted), a\ re questions which may be irresolvable in the framework of the usual discussions. Any view \ which denies either innate human reasoning powers or the effects of real experience w\ ould prove untenable if subjected to unbiased comprehensive investigations of human\ conduct—a recourse which generations of philosophers hardly seem to have considere\ d. The utilization of texts almost certainly involves steady interactions and c\ ompromises between the actual text materials being presented, and the participants’ prior disposition, according to conditions which, though flexible and variable, are by no means unsys\ tematic (cf.

discussion in IX.37ff.).1 15. In a procedural approach, arguments in favour of one model of knowle\ dge over another should be couched in terms of tasks and operations. Consider for\ example the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Five.htm (5 of 26) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:50] Chapter V question of economy. On the one hand, each item of knowledge might be st\ ored in a system only once, no matter how many configurations would contain the it\ em. There would be either a very dense interlocking of configurations, or else a g\ iven configuration would have to be assembled every time need arose. This kind of system of\ fers great economy of storage, but heavy expenditure on search. On the other hand, \ items could be redundantly stored in each of the configurations which include them. This system wo\ uld work very rapidly on search, but would be horrendously wasteful on stora\ ge. As Walter Kintsch (1977a: 290f.) notes, this trade-off between economy of storage and economy of search is probably resolved by compromise. Frequently used configuration\ s would be stored as wholes, in spite of the redundancy involved; unusual, seldom r\ equired configurations would be assembled via searching out component items only\ when occasion arises.

16. Some types of global patterns would be stored as complete chunks because of their usefulness in many tasks. Frames are global patterns that contain common\ sense knowledge about some central concept, e.g. ‘piggy banks’, ‘birthday parties’, etc. (cf.

Charniak 1975b; Minsky 1975; Winograd 1975; Petbfi 1976; Scragg 1976; Me\ tzing (ed.) 1979). Frames state what things belong together in principle, but not i\ n what order things will be done or mentioned. Schemas are global patterns of events and sta\ tes in ordered sequences linked by time proximity and causality (cf. Bartlett 1932; Ru\ melhart 1975, 1977b; Kintsch 1977b; Mandier & Johnson 1977; Rumelhart & Ortony 1977; S\ piro 1977; Thorndyke 1977; Kintsch & van Dijk 1978; Beaugrande & Colby 1979). Unli\ ke frames, schemas are always arrayed in a progression, so that hypotheses can be s\ et up about what will be done or mentioned next in a textual world. Plans are global\ patterns of events and states leading up to an intended goal (cf. Sussrnan 1973; Abelson 1\ 975; Sacerdoti 1977; Schank & Abelson 1977; Cohen 1978; McCalla 1978; Wilensky 1978a; A\ llen 1979; Beaugrande 1979a, b). Plans differ from schemas in that a planner (e.g\ . a text producer) evaluates all elements in terms of how they advance toward the planner’s goal. Scripts are stabilized plans called up very frequently to specify the roles of p\ articipants and their expected actions (cf. Schank & Abelson 1977; Cullingford 1978; McCalla 1978). Scripts thus differ from plans by having a pre-established routine. The importan\ ce of these kinds of global patterns has become recognized in the procedural attachment of producing and receiving texts: how a topic might be developed (frames), how an e\ vent will progress in a sequence (schemas), how text users or characters in textual world\ s will pursue their goals (plans), and how situations are set up so that certain texts can\ be presented at the http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Five.htm (6 of 26) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:50] Chapter V opportune moment (scripts). Different pattern types might share the sa\ me basic knowledge in a variable perspective (e.g. a frame for ‘structure of a house’ versus a plan for ‘building a house’). Using global patterns greatly reduces complexity over using local ones, and allows retaining much more material in active storage at one g\ iven time. We provide some demonstrations later on. 8 17. A further issue in procedural models of knowledge is that of inherit\ ance: the transfer of knowledge among items of the same or similar types or sub-types (cf. Fa\ lhman 1977; Hayes 1977; Brachman 1978; Levesque & Mylopoulos 1979). At least three \ kinds of inheritance should be noted. First, an instance inherits all the charact\ eristics of its class 9 unless expressly cancelled (Fahlman 1977). We assume that Napoleon had\ toes, to use a familiar example from Walter Kintsch (1974), even though nobody (but \ Walter) has ever told us so, because Napoleon is an instance of the class ‘human beings’. If he had had no toes, there would doubtless be some historical anecdote to cancel our as\ sumption.

Second, subclasses inherit from superclasses only those characteristics \ that the narrower specification of the subclasses allows. For example, the subclass of ‘ostriches’ differs from the superclass of ‘birds’ in being unable to fly, but able to run extremely fast. Third, entities can inherit from those with which they stand in analogy, i.e. t\ hey are of different classes but comparable in some useful respects. For instance, researcher\ s in cognitive science and artificial intelligence are making assumptions about the hum\ an mind by analogy to the computer (cf. X.26ff.). Without claiming that minds and\ computing machines are the same thing, we can still discover comparable characteri\ stics that are helpful in building complex models of cognition.

18. Inheritance relates to the consideration of economy raised in V.15. If knowledge about classes/instances, subclasses/ superclasses, or analogies were sto\ red in a neat hierarchy, predictions should be possible about time needed to access ce\ rtain facts. For example, [84a] should take longer to judge “true” or “false” than [84b] because the superclass ‘animal’ is higher up in the hierarchy than the subclass ‘bird’, and thus to connect them demands at least one more step:

[84a] A chicken is an animal.

[84b] A chicken is a bird.

However, testing failed to confirm such predictions (cf. Collins & Quil\ lian 1972). For one thing, [84c] was regularly confirmed faster than [84b], though ‘chicken’ and ‘robin’ should be on the same plane in the hierarchy:

[84c] A robin is a bird. http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Five.htm (7 of 26) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:50] Chapter V Smith, Shoben, and Rips (1974) explain this effect in terms of “features” as basic components of concepts like ‘bird’: the more determinate and typical features (cf. V.5) an instance or subclass has, the quicker it will be judged a member of a cl\ ass or superclass.

‘Robins’, who fly and sing well, are thus easier to judge as ‘birds’ than are ‘chickens’, who do not. In a like fashion, people are more prone to misjudge [84d] as tr\ ue than [84e]:

[84d] A bat is a bird.

[84e] A stone is a bird.

because of the shared feature ‘can fly’ which sets ‘bats’ and ‘birds’ into an analogy. Rosch and Mervis (1975) argue that “family resemblances” are responsible for such effects rather than defining features, because it is extremely difficult in many\ cases to decide what features every member of a class must have (cf. examples in V. 5)\ .

19. We can readily see that the procedural considerations we have outlin\ ed—activation (V.4, 10), strength of linkage (V.5), decomposition (V.6-7), sprea\ ding activation (V.12), episodic vs. semantic memory (V.13), economy (V.15), global patterns\ (V.16), and inheritance (V.17-18)—all depend upon each other. They all must be treated in terms of whatever are taken as the basic units and operations upon knowledge. A v\ ery simple, limited model might accommodate the results of experiments on judging se\ ntences like [84a] through [84e] and still tell us little about that larger question \ (Kintsch 1979b).

Symptomatic of this disparity is the attempt to separate off a neatly or\ ganized “lexicon” or “dictionary” of words or concepts from the vast, messy maze of an “encyclopedia” of world knowledge (cf. Smith 1978). As Kintsch (1979b) points out, such a se\ paration is a research fiction which hinders the development of really powerful, gener\ al models and breaks down eventually in view of a wider range of realistic data.

20. From here, some basic conclusions can be drawn. First of all, instea\ d of trying to cut language off from everything else, we should strive to build models in w\ hich the use of language in real texts is explainable in terms comparable to the process\ es of apperception and cognition at large (cf. Minsky 1975; Miller & Johnson-\ Laird 1976; Kintsch 1977a; Rumelhart 1977a; Beaugrande 1980a). The restrictions upo\ n research which reduce all issues to a matter of variations in time for performanc\ e on unrealistic tasks (including sentence judgements along the lines depicted in V.18)\ run counter to the main incentive for such an undertaking. We must work toward a diversity \ of experiment types among which the everyday utilization of texts plays a leading role\ .

21. A second conclusion is that efforts to encompass the study of texts \ and knowledge http://www.beaugrande.com/Intro1981Five.htm (8 of 26) [29-07-2008 15:1\ 2:50] Chapter V into the framework of logic since Aristotle may prove a mixed blessing. \ We should rather reverse our priorities by first building humanly plausible models and th\ en inquiring after types of logic that can serve as formalisms (Petöfi 1978: 44f.). Hu\ mans are evidently capable of intricate reasoning processes that traditional logics simply \ cannot explain:

jumping to conclusions, pursuing subjective analogies, and even reasonin\ g in absence of knowledge (Collins 1978). For example, when confronted with a possible\ fact, people might say to themselves: ‘If this were true, I ought to know about it; since I don’t know, it is probably false’— the lack of knowledge inference described by Collins. The important standard here is not that such a procedure is logically unsound, but rat\ her that the procedure works well enough in everyday affairs.

22. A third conclusion is that, as we have already stressed (V.8), kno\ wledge and meaning are extremely sensitive to the contexts where they are utilized. We would like to pursue some implications of that view for a candidate model of text coherence. \ Basically, the combination of concepts and relations activated by a text can be envisio\ ned as problem- solving in the sense of III.17. Given some fuzzy, unstable units of sens\ e and content, text users must build up a configuration of pathways among them to create a T\ EXTUAL WORLD (V.2). Only certain characteristics or "features" of the concept\ s involved are really necessary and relevant for these o