Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Susanna Shore
July 1992
Contents
Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii
Abstract . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix
Chapter 1: Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1.1. Purpose and Scope of this Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1.2. Outline of the Chapters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
1.3. Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
1.4. Glosses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
1.5. Theory and Description . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
2.4.12. Prototypes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
2.4.13. Grammatical Proportionalities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
2.4.14. Synoptic vs. Dynamic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 413
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 435
Maps and Figures
Acknowledgements
This text ) like any other text ) is pervaded by the intertextual sources that
engendered it. These intertextual sources are a reflection of my ties with both
Australia and Finland. I am deeply indebted to all of my teachers, colleagues and
friends ) at Macquarie University, the University of Sydney, the University of
Helsinki, and elsewhere ) for the critical and constructive dialogue without which
this study would not have materialized.
I am especially grateful to Professor Ruqaiya Hasan, my supervisor at
Macquarie University, for her advice and for her critical comments. Her question-
ing of me at various stages of writing this study has been an important catalyst in
the development of my thinking. I should also like to express my thanks to
Professor Pentti Leino of the Department of Finnish at the University of Helsinki
for reading and commenting on an earlier version of this thesis and for giving me
the opportunity to work and to do research in an academic environment. I am
indebted to Dr. Maria Vilkuna for her lengthy and thoughtful comments and
criticisms on an earlier draft of this thesis. Marja-Liisa Helasvuo, Ilona Herlin,
Associate Professor Esa Itkonen, Anne Thwaite, and Dr. Eija Ventola have also
read earlier versions of this thesis or parts of it. I am deeply grateful to all of them
for their comments and criticisms.
This thesis would not have been possible without financial support from the
Kone Foundation of Finland and the Australian Government Postgraduate Awards
Scheme.
Last, but not least, I wish to thank my family for their encouragement and
support over the years. I dedicate this study to my mother, Saara Rantamäki, who,
through her example, taught me the meaning of the Finnish expression kestää kuin
nainen ‘endure ) like a woman’.
xi
Abstract
This study is a dialogue with linguists from two different traditions in linguistics.
It is a dialogue with Finnish linguists, particularly those working within the
framework of traditional linguistics and in applied areas of linguistics, and it is a
dialogue with systemic-functional linguists, since the theory of language on which
it is based is systemic-functional theory.
1
The last time I heard words to this effect the speaker was, in fact, a Finnish linguist, and he
was not being facetious.
2
This is not meant to imply that grammatical and phonological phenomena are identical, but
I think it is useful ) particularly for those who are unacquainted with SF theory ) to draw
some sort of a parallel.
3
The major insight lying at the base of autosegmental phonology is that the phonological
representation is composed not of a single sequence of entities roughly corresponding to a line
of type, but rather that the phonological representation is made up of several parallel sequences
of entities, resembling thus more a score for a musical ensemble, than a single line of type.
The musical analogy that is used in this quotation echoes a similar analogy made
by Halliday, who compares grammatical structure to polyphonic music (e.g. 1978:
56). As is obvious from the above, the term grammatical structure as used here
does not only refer to constituency structure but to any kind of (non-random)
organization that is (more or less) restricted in scope to the boundaries of a clause.
The grammatical scope of this study is quite broad. In view of this, the degree
of detail (or “delicacy” in systemic-functional terms) is restricted: only the most
general type of organization is presented. A number of other restrictions on the
scope of the study are presented in the next section, in which there is an outline of
each chapter. One important restriction needs to be mentioned immediately: the
description presented here is not concerned with the “systemic” side of systemic-
functional theory, i.e. the setting up of systems networks to model the paradigmatic
options available in a language. The label “systemic-functional” (henceforth: SF)
is, nevertheless, used throughout to distinguish the approach taken here from other
brands of functionalism (see, e.g., Dirven & Fried (eds.) 1987, Matthiessen &
Halliday (forthcoming)). The systemic side is, nevertheless, implicit in the analysis
that is presented: in SF theory, the grammatical organization of a language is
modelled as a number of parallel complexes of networks, which represent various
kinds of meaningful (paradigmatic) options available in the language being inves-
tigated. This model of grammar iconically reflects the notion that the grammatical
system of a language is a “potential” for expressing and making meanings. A
particular combination of meanings ) at the grammatical level ) will result in a
number of simultaneous grammatical structures.
4
This chapter serves as an introduction and discusses some general issues concerned
with theory and data. The next two chapters give background information: as SF
theory is relatively unknown in Finland and as Finnish is relatively unknown to the
majority of linguists outside Finland, I have tried to accommodate possible readers
of this study by giving some background to SF theory in Chapter 2 and by giving
an ethnographic account and a general outline of Finnish in Chapter 3.
The fifth chapter is concerned with structures in the Finnish clause that reflect
its internal organization as an exchange or interactive event. This is reflected in
mood structures, which are regarded as being related to the way in which the role
of the interactants is construed in language. Another aspect of interactive or
interpersonal clause-internal organization in SF theory is concerned with what
Halliday refers to as modality (assessments of probability and usuality) and
modulation (assessments of obligation or inclination) (Halliday 1985a: 86, 334 ff.;
Halliday in Kress ed. 1976: 189-213); however, this area of Finnish grammar will
not be dealt with in this study.
Chapter 6 is concerned with the way in which the clause in Finnish provides
a model of reality, i.e., a linguistic representation of the world around us, of the
world inside us, and of the world of our imagination. Central to the structure of the
clause as a model of reality is the analysis of clauses into process types and their
concomitant participant and circumstantial roles. For example, Akira Kurosawa
5
ohjasi tämän elokuvan ‘Akira Kurosawa directed this movie’ construes (encodes
and constructs) a material process, a happening or an action, whereas Akira
Kurosawa on japanilainen elokuvaohjaaja ‘Akira Kurosawa is a Japanese film
director’ construes a relational process in which the Carrier, realized by the proper
noun Akira Kurosawa is assigned an Attribute.
In the seventh chapter, the clause in Finnish is discussed in terms of the way
it is structured as a message, i.e., in terms of what Prague School linguists refer to
as the Functional Sentence Perspective (Halliday in Kress ed. 1976: 26-31; and e.g.
Daneš (ed.) 1974, Daneš 1987). From the point of view of the message, the
structure of the clause can be looked at in terms of its Theme-Rheme and Given-
New structure. According to Halliday (1985a: Chapter 8), the Given-New structure
in English is realized in intonational patterns (pitch movements) in the tone group.
While there is some preliminary discussion of Given and New in Finnish, a
phonetic analysis of the intonational patterns in Finnish is beyond the scope of this
study. The discussion of the Theme-Rheme structure of the Finnish clause focuses
on the topical Theme. The analysis is illustrated by a complete text, which is repro-
duced in Appendix 1.
The study concludes with the analysis of a small fragment of text in Chapter
8. This analysis is intended to show how the various structures described in the
main body of the study are intertwined and conflated in a text and how the analysis
presented here fits into a wider and more comprehensive framework. Chapter 8 also
brings together a number of recurring themes in the study.
6
1.3. Data
This study is based primarily on the Finnish that is spoken in the Helsinki area and
on standardized written Finnish, as this is the Finnish that I am familiar with.
However, the study is at such a primary degree of delicacy that is seems to me that
the analysis ) for the most part ) is also valid for at least those varieties of Finnish
that are spoken in Finland (see 3.2).
While the analysis and description here is not based on any particular text or
set of texts, the majority of examples in the main body of the text (Chapters 4 to 7)
are attested examples from either spoken or written Finnish. Each attested example
is followed by a reference to its source in square brackets. The sources are listed
in Appendix 2. In some instances, I have “tidied up” the original examples, e.g.
omitted false starts and stutters, since these are irrelevant to the functionally charac-
terized grammatical structures that are being explicated. For the same reason, I
have also standardized certain phonological features of dialect forms. In some
cases, I have also omitted parts of the clause if they are irrelevant to the point being
made.
Since the majority of examples are authentic examples, instead of giving just
one or two examples to illustrate a grammatical phenomenon, a number of
examples are given. This is done to clearly illustrate the kind of phenomenon that
is being described. With constructed examples, it is relatively easy to construct an
example that clearly and unambiguously illustrates a grammatical point. An
intransitive material process, for example, could be illustrated by the example
Lapsi juoksee ‘The child runs/is running’. However, examples like this are rare in
actual text. An authentic example often contains constituents that are irrelevant to
the point being made and this “extraneous matter” cannot be omitted without
sacrificing the authenticity of the example.
If one regards the grammar of a language as a resource that underlies the use
of language in a variety of different contexts, then to base one’s grammatical
description on a particular corpus would unavoidably distort the picture. The notion
of “grammar” can only make sense if it is applied to a language as a whole. The
only access we have to a language ) more or less as a whole1 ) is through our
knowledge of the way in which it is used in a multiplicity of contexts (cf. section
2.3.4, which discusses E. Itkonen’s (1983a, 1983b) view of the precedence of
intuition, i.e. knowledge, in grammatical description). It would be pointless to base
an analysis of the grammatical options available in Finnish on a corpus of casual
conversation, for example, or even on the large computer corpora of written
Finnish that are now available. In any of the available corpora, it would be difficult
to find many examples of imperatives or examples like mua palelee ‘I’m freezing’.
If the example is common and uncontroversial, then it is pointless to ignore it
because for some reason it does not occur in the particular corpus that has been
selected for analysis.
1
The notion of a language as a whole is, of course, problematic: Firth (see section 2.2.3)
maintained that there was no such thing; needless to say, a grammatical description based on
this notion of language can only be based on regularities and tendencies, and not on hard and
fast rules.
9
1.4. Glosses
In Appendix 3 and Appendix 4, there are keys for the form and function glosses
used in the Finnish examples. Other notation conventions are listed in Appendix
5 and Appendix 6. There are two copies of each of the appendices, one of which
is detachable so that the reader can easily refer to it while reading the text. (The
loose copy is enclosed in a pocket on the inside cover of the study.) The non-
Finnish reader is advised to look at the glosses and not at the translation, as the
translation is an attempt to convey the meaning and not the grammatical relations
within the Finnish clause.
This section is a brief, general discussion on theory per se, as it seems to me that
there is not necessarily a consensus on what is meant by theory and a theoretical
approach to the study of language. In my view, a theoretical approach is, in the first
instance, an attempt to “put one’s cards on the table”. It is an attempt to make
explicit the fundamental assumptions we have about language and the study of it.
like language itself, is not monoglossic: it, too, is inherently intertextual and
heteroglossic.
The above is true of any of our observations, but when it comes to the
analysis of language, then any educated linguist has had at least twelve years of
exposure to a western European notion of language as it is enshrined in the
educational system (see e.g. Harris 1981, Mühlhausler 1987) and at least some
exposure to so-called traditional grammar, ie. grammatical description in which the
underlying theoretical assumptions are not explicated. Moreover, there are many
folk linguistic notions about language, which are part of the received view of
language in any society. Statements made by linguists about language are bound
to be theory-laden, the assumptions are simply not explicated (see also Joseph &
Taylor (eds.) 1990).
or even making it fit the unexplicated assumptions one has about the data. With
linguistic theories, all too often the theory becomes a self-sufficient end in itself,
without regard to the nature of the phenomenon that it purports to describe (cf. A.
Hakulinen 1989: 45 ff.). The linguistic categories that are originally set up to
account for similarities and oppositions in a language become reified (cf. Halliday
1988a: 27-28), and the dialectic between theory and description that should be the
basis of linguistic analysis is lost.
The importance of a dialectic between theory and description has been
stressed from the earliest systemic work. Firth, whose ideas laid the foundation for
SF theory, repeatedly refers to the somewhat mystical sounding “renewal of
connection” (e.g. Firth 1957: 24; in Palmer ed. 1968: 19,175-176). By this he
meant the testing of a theory or hypothesis with data. This topic is taken up by
Fawcett in the foreword of a recent volume of systemic papers, which echoes
earlier statements to a similar effect (e.g. Halliday, McIntosh, & Strevens 1964: 32;
Halliday in McIntosh & Halliday 1966: 41):
The theory that [this volume] discusses is always theory that arises out of the actual textual data
of languages, and that leads back to further description ) thus completing the cycle of the
‘renewal of connection’, which J.R. Firth wisely advised us to remember to make. One might
even propose as a guiding principle: No theory without description, and no description
without a theory ) the theory, of course, often turning out to be inadequate. (Halliday &
Fawcett (eds.) 1987: ix.) [Emphasis added.]
13
Chapter 2
An Outline of Systemic-Functional Theory
2.1. Overview
This chapter provides a short introduction to SF theory, from the early scale and
category grammar to what was known first as systemic theory and later as
systemic-functional theory. There is particular emphasis on those aspects of the
theory that are relevant to an understanding of the grammatical analysis that is
presented in this study and the assumptions that underlie it. It also discusses a
number of issues (e.g. knowledge of language) from a wider metatheoretical
perspective. The chapter is divided into three sections. Section 2.2 is a brief
discussion of the London School of Linguistics, which is important because it
provided the base from which SF theory has developed. Section 2.3 is concerned
with general theoretical issues and some of the basic assumptions of SF theory.
Section 2.4 deals with more specific features of SF grammar. The focus in section
2.4 is on the present position, although there is some discussion of developments
that have occurred since the earliest work. As not all SF linguists would concur on
all of the theoretical issues mentioned, an attempt will be made to bring together
what is common to those working within a SF framework, and take a critical look
at some of the assumptions.
SF theory has developed out of the London School of linguistics (see Robins 1967:
213-220; Butler 1985: 1-13; Sampson 1980: 212-235), a loosely framed school of
thought influenced by the ideas of J.R. Firth (1890 ) 1960). Firth’s theory of
language, if it can be referred to as a theory, was never fully and coherently
explicated. His ideas about language are sketchily presented in two early works
14
meant for the non-specialist (Firth 1930, 1937; republished in one volume in 1964)
and two collections of articles, one of them posthumously edited by F.R. Palmer
(Firth 1957; Palmer (ed.) 1968).1
Out of Firth’s work in phonology came two sets of notions which were to be of
significance in SF theory: a) system and structure and b) a “multi-structural and
polysystemic” approach to language (in Palmer (ed.) 1968: 200). Firth’s notions of
system and structure are based on the structuralist notions of paradigmatic and
syntagmatic relations, paradigmatic relations (first used by Hjelmslev 1959 [1938]:
152) being a development of Saussure’s psychologically oriented associative
relations (Saussure 1983 [1916]: 121-125). However, in contrast to Saussure, Firth
did not regard these notions as being applicable to the language as a whole (see
next section).
1
For a short overview of Firth’s ideas, see Henderson 1987.
15
a particular place in a structure (in Palmer (ed.) 1968: 103). This relationship has
been mnemonically illustrated by the following diagram (Dinneen 1967: 305):
s
y
s
s t r u c t u r e
e
m
Because of the vastness, complexity and diversity of language, Firth (in Palmer
(ed.) 1968: 97-98,110,112; cf. Bakhtin 1981) saw the task of describing it
exhaustively an impossible one. He insisted that the techniques of description
should be applied to “restricted languages”, not to the language as a whole. A
restricted language is seen as a delimited or circumscribed sub-language within the
general language with its own grammar and dictionary (in Palmer (ed.) 1968: 29-
30,87). It provides data that is already “fenced off”, as Firth put it, for the linguist.
The examples given by Firth would seem to indicate that the manner in which a
restricted language is “fenced off” was not important for Firth: his examples
suggest that a restricted language corresponds not only to a register, but also to the
language of a particular text or set of texts. Examples given by Firth (in Palmer
(ed.) 1968: 29,87,98, 106,112,118-119) include the language of modern Arabic
headlines, of politics or meteorology, or of a particular text or a particular writer.
16
Thus, for Firth what was linguistically salient was the social entity, the
“personality”, rather than the biological or natural entity, which Firth referred to
as the “individual”. Firth (1957: 28,184) saw the social person as the product of the
various social roles she or he has to play in a particular society and likened a
person to an actor in a play with various roles to play.1 Social roles are learnt
almost from birth as a person is incorporated into various speech fellowships in a
particular society.
1
Personality, in the Firthian sense, can thus be seen at the intersection of the various social
networks (in the sense of Milroy 1987) to which a person belongs.
17
Members of various speech fellowships may, however, belong to larger speech or language
communities without conflict of values. Both sets of values deserve respect. The vast
enterprises of the English-speaking world, operated by English, go on without standardization
of accent. You may estimate the relative values of what is called an Oxford accent, an
Aberdonian accent, a Boston, a New York, or an Australian accent, but the main thing is a
wider language community with room for diversity of personality. (Firth 1957: 186.)
[Emphasis added.]
The multiplicity of social roles we have to play as members of a race, nation, class, family,
school, club, as sons, brothers, lovers, fathers, workers, ... public speakers, involves also a
certain degree of linguistic specialization. Unity is the last concept that should be applied to
language... There is no such thing as une langue une and there never has been. (Firth
1957: 29.) [Emphasis added.]
Firth (1957: 144; in Palmer (ed.) 1968: 152, 190-202) was interested in a general
linguistic theory, a theoretical framework with which to approach the description
of any given language, but not in a theory of linguistic universals in the sense that
it has become familiar in Chomskyan and post-Chomskyan linguistics:
What is here being sketched is a general linguistic theory applicable to particular linguistic
descriptions, not a theory of universals for general linguistic description. (Firth in Palmer (ed.)
1968: 190.)
(This problem has been taken up by Halliday (1988a) and will be discussed in
section 2.4.11 (p. 63).)
2.2.5. Meaning
Firth saw meaning as the cornerstone of linguistic theory: the study of language
is the study of linguistic meaning (1957: 190; in Palmer (ed.) 1968, Ch.1).
Moreover, linguistic meaning could only be understood by appreciating the
intimate relationship between language and society. As Firth (1957: 226; in Palmer
(ed.) 1968: 12-13) points out, words are not isolates which somehow have meaning
in and by themselves, as logicians and some linguists would have us believe; they
have meaning because they function in the particular society in which the speakers
happen to live. Thus, language is seen not in terms of an individual mental activity
or as an abstract construct divorced from reality, but as an integral part of the
physical and social world in which we live. Meanings are created in society:
As we know so little about mind and as our study is essentially social, I shall cease to respect
the duality of mind and body, thought and word, and be satisfied with the whole man, thinking
and acting as a whole in association with his fellows. I do not therefore follow Ogden and
Richards in regarding meaning as relations in a hidden mental process, but chiefly as situational
relations in a context of situation and in that kind of language which disturbs the air and other
people’s ears, as modes of behaviour in relation to other elements in the context of
situation. (Firth 1957: 19.) [Emphasis added.]
Each successive linguistic context is, thus, seen as providing a step in the access
to the total meaning of an utterance. Firth, pace Harris (1987a), advocated a two-
way approach: one can either work from the context of situation to phonology or
from phonology to the context of situation (1957: 192).
In discussing his approach to meaning, Firth (e.g. Firth 1957: 19; in Palmer
(ed.) 1968: 200) often used the analogy of the dispersion of light waves into a
spectrum: just as white light is the fusion of a number of colours of differing
wavelengths, linguistic meaning is the fusion of a number of different “modes of
meaning”. This fusion of meaning is impossible to analyse until it is dispersed (or
deconstructed) into various modes of meaning.
It is necessary ... to split up the problem of meaning into its components or elements. The
process may be compared, metaphorically speaking, to the dispersion of white light into a
spectrum by means of a prism. The prism in our case is descriptive linguistics and the spectrum
is the multiple statements of meaning at various levels. (Firth in Palmer (ed.) 1968: 108.)
While Firth’s notions of a system and a structure are based on the Saussurean
notions of syntagmatic and associative relations, and, in some respects, his
approach to meaning relies on Saussure’s notion of value, Firth did not consider
himself a Saussurean and explicitly rejected many of Saussure’s ideas (Firth 1957:
36,179-181; in Palmer (ed.) 1968: 127-129; Halliday 1978: 51). What is central to
the Saussurean model of language is langue, a static synchronic system in which
there are no positive terms and everything is defined negatively in terms of abstract
relations of opposition (Saussure 1983 [1916]: 118). Such a conception of
language, as Firth (1957: 180-181) points out, excludes not only actual words and
sounds, but also the actual speakers of the language. Thus, Saussurean structural-
ism leads to a reification of langue, and the concrete dialogic nature of language
is ignored (cf. Voloshinov 1973 [1930]). If we ignore the constant dialectic
between language as system (or as multiple systems) and language as “speech and
... texts related to the living of, and therefore to the ‘meaning’ of life” (in Palmer
21
(ed.) 1968: 169), then we also ignore inter alia the means of exploring linguistic
variation and change. This distinction between language as system and language
as speech and text is comparable to Hjelmslev’s (1953: 5) notion of language as
system and language as process, which, in later SF terms could be glossed as
language as system and language as (spoken or written) text.1 For Firth, the
dialectic between system and text is central:
Renewal of connection with the processes and patterns of life in the instances of experience is
the final justification of abstract linguistics. (Firth 1957: 24.)
1
See section 2.4.14, for a further distinction between a synoptic and a dynamic perspective
on language.
22
In contrast to Firth, who did not think it was feasible to look at language as
a whole and wanted to restrict linguistic analysis to a subset of a language as
reflected in his “restricted languages”, systemic-functional linguists see language
as the union of all of these subsets. Like Firth, however, they would still reject the
notion of language as a unity. Language is not unified, but inherently variable.
While there is variation in language, it is not random, but can be correlated with
various factors. These factors can be roughly grouped under a number of headings:
24
(1) Variation that can be associated with social phenomena such as gender,
class, etc. (see e.g. Hasan 1987a, 1988, 1989; Hasan & Cloran 1990).
(2) Variation related to differences in the contexts of language use (see 2.3.7).
(3) Variation related to regional (or geographical) differences in language.
We do not simply ‘know’ our mother tongue as an abstract system of vocal signals, or as if it
was some sort of grammar book with a dictionary attached. We know it in the sense of
knowing how to use it; we know how to communicate with other people, how to choose
forms of language that are appropriate to the type of situation we find ourselves in, and so on.
All this can be expressed as a form of knowledge: we know how to behave linguistically.
(Halliday 1978: 13.) [Emphasis added.]
26
If our goal is the pursuit of system-in-language (Fishman 1971: 7), this is surely linguistics,
and linguistics always has ... accepted what Hymes (1967) calls the “socio-cultural dimensions
of its subject-matter”, the link between language and the social factors that must be adduced
to explain observed linguistic phenomena. By the same token, however, we do not need
“communicative competence”, which has to be adduced only if the system has first been
isolated from its social context. If we are concerned with “what the speaker-hearer knows”, as
distinct from what he can do, and we call this his “competence”, then competence is
communicative competence; there is no other kind. (Halliday 1978: 92.) [Emphasis
added.]
On the other hand, from the perspective of the philosophy of science, it has been
cogently and convincingly argued by E. Itkonen (1983a, 1983b) that knowledge
is epistemologically prior in any investigation, whether the object of investigation
is language or electricity. Any investigation of language must be based on
assumptions that a linguist makes about the regularities in that language, and this
is true whether the language in question is the investigator’s native language, a
foreign language, or even a extinct language. Regularities or tendencies or rules are
not concrete entities that can be observed, they can only be intuited or abstracted
on the basis of our analytical reasoning processes.
While it seems clear that Itkonen is correct in maintaining that a linguist must
always proceed from (intuitive) knowledge of a language, and this is an important
consideration in the development of a theory, 1) one needs to carefully consider the
implications of what it means to say that knowledge of language is primarily social,
and 2) one needs to look more closely at the status of a corpus in linguistic theory
and description. The first point will be discussed first.
1
An idealist might want to deny this. The fact remains, however, that while there is
differentiation according to class, race, ethnicity, education, age or sex in any society and
regional variation in nationally recognized languages, a privileged status is only afforded to
certain varieties: it would be difficult to imagine the president of Finland giving a speech in
Savo dialect or a black American judge handing down a sentence in black English vernacular,
except in a comedy programme on television.
28
instead of minimizing the role of “external evidence”, he stresses the need for a
symbiotic relationship between a corpus, on the one hand, and, on the other hand,
one’s knowledge of language as manifest in the use of intuited examples and
grammatical tests (such as the deletion test used in determining, for example, the
core or obligatory actants in a process (see Chapter 6)).
One the other hand, one cannot simplistically assume that a corpus is
objective simply because it consists of text or fragments of text that have not been
intuited by the linguist. As Itkonen (1983a: 8) points out, an act of observation is
not necessarily any less subjective than an act of intuition. The choice of one
example rather than another is a subjective choice, as too is the choice of the text
from which the example is taken. Thus, the choice of a particular text representa-
tive of a particular genre ) e.g. newspaper editorials, dialects interviews (or
fragments from them), interpersonal (casual) conversations ) are not objective
choices, but necessarily involve theoretical assumptions and skew the description
towards a particular genre. In all of the examples just given, for instance, language
is constitutive rather than ancillary ) as in a service encounter or in a game of ice
hockey ) and this is true of the vast majority of linguistic corpora that I am aware
of.
The view of language assumed in SF theory and in this study is what Grace (1987)
refers to as a “reality construction view” of language. Grace is not a systemic-
functional linguist, but his views are presented here as it seems to me that they are
more accessible to those unfamiliar with systemic-functional linguistics than the
writings of systemic-functional linguists. While the views of systemic-functional
linguists may be more developed than those of Grace (1987), they are also more
complex and, possibly, more esoteric (see, e.g. Halliday 1973, 1974, 1978, 1984,
1987; Hasan 1984a, 1988, 1989).
1
To say that reality is unknowable is not, of course, the same thing as saying that it does not
exist.
32
sharp line between truth and falsity there are degrees of goodness of fit”. Thus,
when someone makes a statement such as “The dog bit the man” or, to use Austin’s
example, “France is hexagonal”, according to Grace, the statement is judged on the
basis of the goodness of fit between the model and the actual reality. It seems to
me, however, that Grace is still tied to a tradition that sees semantics as being
primarily concerned with truth and falsity, in Grace’s case, with degrees of truth
or falsity. Halliday (1985: 76), on the other hand, maintains that “semantics has
nothing to do with truth”1, and this is reflected, for example, in his analysis of
polarity and modality. Semantics is seen as being concerned with how we use
language as a resource for meaning, how we can do meaningful things with
language, either truthfully or falsely. (See also Harris’ (1987b: 158 ff.) discussion
of truth-conditional semantics, truth and morality.)
While Grace acknowledges the importance of the social and cultural in vague
general terms, he looks at the constructionist view from the point of view of the
individual. When he discusses the role played by the speaker and the speech event
in mediating between linguistic expressions and reality, both speaker and speech
1
It is clear from the context, that Halliday is referring to truth in the truth-conditional sense.
33
event are discussed as though they were asocial constructs. Grace, in fact,
downplays the social and looks at language as though it were entirely a mental
phenomenon and the property of the individual. This is where he departs from the
systemic-functional view, which stresses the social, and explores how socio-
contextual factors shape language (see, e.g. Halliday 1973, 1974, 1978, 1984,
1987; Hasan 1984a, 1988, 1989; Hasan & Cloran 1990).
Consciousness becomes consciousness only once it has been filled with ideological (semiotic)
content, consequently, only in the process of social interaction ...
and so forth. Outside such material, there remains the sheer physiological act unilluminated by
consciousness, i.e., without having light shed on it, without having meaning given to it, by
signs.” (Voloshinov 1973[1930]: 11-13). [Emphasis added.]
Hasan (1985a: 32) has argued against Leech’s (1974: 66) view that a
mentalist theory of meaning could be seen as a recognition of a common-sense
reality that “meaning is a mental phenomenon and it is useless to pretend
otherwise”. In Hasan’s view, the fact that meanings are stored in the human brain
does not make meaning a mental phenomenon:
There is a very obvious sense in which every piece of knowledge is mental. Whatever the
child’s or adult’s understanding of the linguistic sign dog, this understanding is surely stored
in the brain; further, it is only because of the structure of the brain that it is possible for humans
to arrive at understandings of this sort. But in a rather important sense it does not make the
meaning of the sign dog a mental phenomenon; the dictionary may be located in the brain but
the specific details relating to each entry in the dictionary originate not in the brain but in the
social human milieu. Meaning and mind are created in a social environment, through
social agencies ... [Emphasis added.]
This does not, of course, mean that there is a simple one-to-one correspondence or
isomorphism between the external and the internal, as Vygotsky (Wertsch & Stone
1985: 166-167) pointed out. This is evidenced not only by the fact that both society
and language change over time, but also by the fact that at any given time, there are
co-existing variants of each (Hasan 1988: 45).
We do not experience language in isolation ... but always in relation to a scenario, some
background of persons and actions and events from which the things are said to derive their
meaning. This is referred to as the “situation”, so language is said to function in “contexts of
35
situation” and any account of language which fails to build in the situation as an essential
ingredient is likely to be artificial and unrewarding.
This is similar to Searle’s (1979: 117) argument against the context-free interpreta-
tion of sentences:
There is no such thing as the zero or null context for the interpretation of sentences ... We
understand the meaning of such sentences only against a set of background assumptions about
the contexts in which the sentence could be appropriately used. (Searle 1979: 117.)
SF theory clearly belongs to what Harris (1987a: 131) has called the
integrational paradigm: one which sees language as “manifested in a network of
human abilities and activities complexly integrated in social interaction”. It is from
this position that systemic-functional linguists give prominence to the context of
situation and generic subcategories of speech events (i.e. to genres such as medical
consultations, scientific reports, casual conversation, service encounters etc.).1
However, such notions as context of situation and genre can be conceived of as
quite separate from grammatical analysis. As Harris (1987a) points out, the context
of situation can be seen as something which can be tacked on in order to complete
the description of decontextualized sentences that have already been analysed in
phonological and grammatical terms. It can be thought of as an optional extra,
which has no real bearing on the grammatical analysis. Harris suggests that a true
grasping of the full theoretical implications of the linguistic significance of the
context of situation requires that it is integrated into our grammatical analysis: the
analysis of grammatical organization of a language cannot be divorced from the
description of language in use.
1
Thus the SF notion of genre covers not only written genres but also includes what Bakhtin
(1986: 78-79) refers to as “speech genres”.
36
1
Thus, the grammatical (morpho-syntactical) form of a language is not a semantically-empty
frame into which lexical items are slotted. See 2.4.7 for a discussion of realization.
37
concerned with the way in which language serves as a model of reality. It can be
subdivided into experiential and logical meaning. Experiential meaning is
concerned with the “things” that we can talk about, and logical meaning with the
interdependency relationships that language allows us to construct between these
things. It is important to note that logical meaning is concerned with the logic of
a language and not with formal or mathematical logic, which has been based on
and has developed from logical expressions in language. Ideational meaning is
realized in what Halliday refers to as the transitivity system and in systems
concerned with the interdependency relations between units in a language.
Textual meaning relates to the way in which language makes links with
itself and with the situations in which it is used. Speech (and writing) is not just a
random collection of words that are unrelated 1) to what the speaker (or someone
else) has just said (or written) or 2) to the context in which they are uttered. Textual
meaning is made manifest in the resources that allow the speaker to create a
coherent text, one that makes sense in the context in which it is being uttered and
in the context of what has been uttered and will be uttered. It is mostly realized in
the theme and information focus system.
The context of situation is a generalized semiotic construct deriving from the culture )
something that is recognized by the members as a form of social activity that they engage in.
happening, 2) who is taking part, and 3) the role of language in the linguistic
contact. These dimensions will be discussed in more detail below. However, as the
notion of a situation type and various developments of Halliday’s ideas are not
central to this study, the discussion below is brief and superficial. For a more
comprehensive discussion, see Gregory 1967, 1988; Gregory & Carroll 1978,
Halliday 1978, Halliday & Hasan 1985, Ventola 1987, 1988.
Field characterizes the situation in terms of the social activity that is taking
place, e.g. making an appointment, visiting someone in hospital, playing a game
of ice hockey, discussing a game that has been played etc. In some cases, it may
be necessary to make a distinction between first-order and second-order fields
(Halliday 1978: 144). In a discussion about a game of ice hockey, for example, the
discussion itself, the verbal interaction, constitutes the social activity that is taking
place. It is the first-order field. The game that is being talked about constitutes the
second-order field.
Tenor is concerned with the various kinds of relationships that hold between
the participants who are involved in the situation either directly (e.g. two people
speaking or writing to each other) or indirectly (e.g. a writer and her or his
audience). Tenor, thus, encompasses such variables as the relative statuses of the
participants, i.e. the power relationships and the social distance between them, their
frequency of contact, the emotional relationship between them etc.
Mode is concerned with the place that is assigned to the text in the situation
and encompasses a number of variables, which gives rise to a distinction between
the spoken and written medium. For example, the semiotic distance between the
text and the social activity in which it is embedded can either be constitutive (e.g.
a lecture, discussion or scientific article) or ancillary (e.g. playing a game of
basketball or cards). The relationship between the text and the participants can be
seen in terms of whether the producer of a text can edit it before it is exposed to an
addressee (e.g. as in most written texts and in texts that are written to be spoken)
and whether the addressee can share in the process of text creation (as in casual
conversation). A third variable within mode is channel, which can either be phonic
or graphic.
39
A central notion in any linguistic analysis that needs to be discussed is the notion
of reference. In a tradition that goes back to Ogden and Richards (Lyons 1977a:
98), the term “referent” is applied to an object in the outside world to which a word
refers and “reference” to the “picking out” of something in an objective external
world. This notion of reference is clearly tied to a mapping of reality view of
language (see 2.3.5). In a reality construction view, on the other hand, the things
that we talk about when we use language are constructs of the language and the
culture that have made these things meaningful for us. I shall elaborate on this
shortly.
40
Rather than see reference in logical terms of the “things” that we refer to in
the external world, the notion of reference can be seen in terms of Saussure’s
signifié, the signified part of the linguistic sign (Saussure 1983 [1916], translation
by Roy Harris). A similar approach is taken by Hudson (1984: 138-139):
I am using the term [i.e. referent] to denote de Saussure’s ‘concept’ which is the signified part
of a linguistic sign ... Of all the obviously available words for referring to this mental entity,
the word referent seems the most suitable in spite of its traditional links with the outside world.
However, the connections between the real world and linguistic expressions are quite indirect
and not of any particular importance to a linguistic theory, so it seems preferable to adopt the
term “referent” for an area where we do need it, rather than to leave it for use on a hypothetical
occasion.
In order to explicate Saussure’s notion of the signifié, the main points of his
approach will be outlined. Saussure saw a language as a system of arbitrary signs.
A sign consists of a relationship between two mutually dependent elements: a
sound pattern (image acoustique) and a concept (concept), which Saussure
referred to as the signifiant (‘signification’) and the signifié (‘signal’), respectively.
A linguistic sign is arbitrary in that a signal (signifiant) has no natural connection
with its signification (signifié), the signal which is written in Finnish as maa [ma:]
has no natural connection with what it signifies, and, consequently, a foreigner
could not guess its signification. (I shall give some translation equivalents shortly.)
Since the connection between a signal and its signification is not natural, it can
only be established by convention.
41
To say this much about the arbitrariness of the linguistic sign, however, is
nothing new, and was nothing new even in Saussure’s time. This aspect of the
arbitrariness of the sign was accepted well before Saussure, and can be traced back
to the debate in ancient Greece between the naturalists and conventionalists
(Robins 1967: 17ff.). Saussure’s insistence on the arbitrariness had more far-
reaching repercussions: if a sign such as maa or [ma:] in Finnish, Chinese,
Gooniyandi, or English is arbitrary, then its signification, the concept with which
this sound pattern is associated, can only be determined by reference to other signs,
by its linguistic value (valeur):
In a language, there are only differences, and no positive terms. Whether we take the
signification or the signal, the language includes neither ideas nor sounds existing prior to the
linguistic system, but only conceptual and phonetic differences arising out of that system.
(Saussure 1983: 118).
The conceptual part of linguistic value is determined solely by relations and differences with
other signs in the language... (Saussure 1983: 116).
Signs are thus relationally defined. They cannot be determined by reference to pre-
existing ideas; they are not labels for pre-existing, naturally occurring categories.
into a linguistic system: by making connections with other semiotic systems, which
include the concrete objects in the environment.
The questions addressed in this section are more specific than those addressed in
the previous section. This section gives an overview of the main features and
principles underlying SF grammar, from the earliest work in the sixties to the
present. It is important to realize that there has been a gradual evolution from the
earliest work to the present grammar, and, thus, the grammatical concepts that were
articulated within the early framework have not been abandoned, but have become
recontextualized. Moreover, as the theory has expanded and developed, some
concepts have been given more prominence and new ones have been introduced.
43
The earliest version of SF grammar, which came to be known as scale and category
grammar, was developed during the late fifties and early sixties by Halliday (1961;
Halliday et al. 1964), who studied under Firth. Although the first published paper
on scale and category grammar appeared in the mid-fifties (Halliday 1956), the
version published in 1961 will form the basis of comments made in the following
sections, since this later version is more developed and provides a more compre-
hensive account than the earlier one. Scale and category grammar is known as such
because it sets up three “scales” of abstraction (i.e. abstract relations), which are
referred to as rank, delicacy, and exponence. The relata are referred to as
“categories”, and include units, structures, classes, and systems. Thus, units,
structures, classes, and systems are related to each other and to the data in terms of
rank, delicacy and exponence (or realization). These concepts will be discussed in
some detail throughout the following sections.
Soon afterwards, Halliday (1968: 207 ff.) began to develop the idea that the
systems in the grammar of a language were organized as a number of components.
These components are related to the functions (later “metafunctions”, see 2.4.8)
44
that language has evolved to serve. The metafunctions comprise the semantics of
a language, but, because there is a non-arbitrary relationship between semantics
and grammar, they are embodied in the grammatical organization of a language,
i.e. they shape the form of the grammar (Halliday in Thibault 1987: 608). With the
development and explication of the metafunctional organization of language,
systemic grammar also became known as systemic-functional grammar.
Based on Hjelmslev (1953), Halliday (1978: 187; 1985b: 10,42) points out that
most elementary coding systems have two planes: a content plane and an
expression plane. For example, a cat might express the content or meaning ‘feed
me’ by a particular kind of miaow or an action that its owner recognizes. There is
a simple one-to-one correspondence between content and expression. Language,
however, differs in that it involves a third intermediate plane. This is the plane of
lexicogrammatical form, which includes grammar (syntax and morphology) and
lexis.1
1
I use the term “plane” instead of “level”, because it is less concrete. Moreover, level is
sometimes confused with “rank” (see 2.4.4 below). Cf. Matthiessen & Halliday
(forthcoming), who use the term “stratum” for similar reasons.
45
However, directionality is also implied in the way in which we generally talk about
realization: “x is realized by y”. This directionality can be avoided by the rather
awkward expression “x and y are in a realization relationship”.
semantics
ú
lexicogrammar
- - - - ú - - - - - - -
phonology
The broken line in the above diagram is meant as an indication that the realization
relationship between phonology and the other planes of linguistic organization is
qualitatively different to the relationship between semantics and lexicogrammar.
The line indicates that the relationship is an arbitrary one. The relationship between
semantics and lexicogrammar, on the other hand, is not an arbitrary one: the
lexicogrammatical form of a language constructs the meanings that are available
in a language, and linguistic meanings could not be expressed except through the
lexicogrammatical form of a language (Halliday 1985a: xvii; Hasan & Cloran
1990).
These planes, which comprise the subject matter of linguistics, can be related
in terms of the form-substance distinction to what falls outside the scope of
linguistics and becomes the scope of phonetics: the phonological form of a
language is realized as phonic substance. Thus, there is a two-tier realization
relationship: 1) a realization relationship which relates form to form (i.e. between
the semantics, lexicogrammatical, and phonological form of a language) and 2) a
further realization relationship which relates form to substance, i.e. between
phonological form and phonic substance.
The above account can be combined with Halliday’s (1961) earlier model,
which brings in the form-substance distinction:
46
This early model needs to be revised. Firstly, the terms semantics or contextual
semantics are now preferred to context. The word context was originally preferred
because semantics tends to be understood in conceptual terms, i.e. as a mental non-
observable phenomenon. Context, on the other hand, is seen as a link between the
lexical and grammatical forms of a language and abstractions from the actual
situations in which language is used (Halliday 1961: 245 footnote 13). Secondly,
systemic-functional linguists generally concur that meanings are realized on all
planes of language (cf. Firth in 2.2.5). Furthermore, the semantic and lexicogram-
matical resources of a language are now regarded as being organized
metafunctionally, the very broad and general functions which language has evolved
to serve are reflected in its semantic and lexicogrammatical organization (see
2.4.8).
In scale and category grammar, a unit is a category that is set up to account for
stretches that carry grammatical patterns. The units of a language are related to
each other by reference to the scale of rank. The units originally set up for
English are: sentence, clause, group and phrase, word, and morpheme (Halliday
1961: 253). Later, the sentence was reinterpreted as a clause complex (see below),
which is not a basic unit on the rank scale. In present-day SF theory, the sentence
is not a grammatical unit but the orthographic unit that is “contained between full
stops” (Halliday 1985a: 193). It has become customary to mark a group or phrase
47
boundary by a single vertical line, a clause boundary by double vertical lines, and
a clause complex boundary by three vertical lines, as in the following example:
(1) /// When / Alice / began telling / them / about her adventures, // the White Rabbit /
appeared / at the door. ///
The units are hierarchically ordered on a rank scale such that there is a constituency
relationship between a higher and a lower unit: clauses consist of groups or
phrases, which consist of words, which consist of morphemes.
Singulary branching means that a unit on the rank scale, say a group, can
consist of one unit on the rank below, the word, so that in a tree diagram the node
at the group rank does not branch into two separate branches, but continues as a
single branch. Each node is seen in terms of its potential for branching, and, thus,
an argument for singulary branching is that, in many instances where singulary
branching occurs, the unit is expandable (Lyne 1988: 62). For example, potatoes
in I’d prefer potatoes is a “simple” nominal group, but it is potentially expandable,
e.g. roast potatoes. While pronouns or proper names such as Alice are not
expandable, they are in paradigmatic contrast to other items (e.g. the little girl) that
are.
nominal group. It has become customary to mark an embedded phrase with single
square brackets and an embedded clause with double bar square brackets.
(2) Just then her head struck against the roof [of the hall].
(3) They would not remember the simple rules [[their friends had taught them]].
(4) /// She opened it, // and found in it a very small cake, // on which the words ‘EAT
ME’ were beautifully marked in currants. ///
Each unit should be fully identifiable in description. This means that, if the description is
textual, every item of the text is accounted for at all ranks ... If the description is
exemplificatory, exactly the same is implied ... (Halliday 1961: 253). [Emphasis added.]
logical elements in that they do not directly engage in the constituency structure
of the clause.
Another “category” that dates from scale and category grammar but has been
progressively redefined as it has become recontextualized is structure. Originally
a structure was set up to account for the abstract syntagmatic patterning of units
(e.g. phrases or words). While it involved ordering and patterning, it did not
necessarily refer to sequentiality. Nevertheless, structure originally seems to have
been equated with discrete segmentable elements and to the way in which these are
organized. More recently, however, it has been used to refer to any clause-rank
organization or patterning, i.e. to phenomena that are not random (Halliday 1978:
188; 1981a: 35-38; 1984: 33; Thibault 1987: 612; Butt 1988).
The experiential functions realized in the clause can be glossed as Senser 0Pro-
cess0Phenomenon, where the raised dot indicates a concatenation of elements with
no implication of sequence. (Sequence, on the other hand, can be indicated by the
caret or hat symbol: ^.)
2.4.6. System
The notion of a system was first introduced in 2.2.2 in the discussion on Firth.
Whereas a structure is concerned with syntagmatic relations, amongst elements in
praesentia; system is concerned with paradigmatic relations, amongst elements
in absentia (Halliday 1981b [1965]: 124). A system accounts for “the occurrence
52
of one rather than another from a number of like events” (Halliday 1961: 264).
These paradigmatic choices are represented as networks.
As mentioned earlier, system and structure were given an equal status in early
scale and category grammar. From about the mid-sixties, the system became the
central organizing concept in grammatical description; structures were seen as
secondary, as the output of a system or a number of systems. The grammatical
organization of a language came to be represented as a vast number of intercon-
nected and simultaneous systems. The following network (which is grossly over-
simplified for the purpose of illustration), combines mood, transitivity, theme and
information focus networks. The fact that the options are simultaneous is indicated
in systemic notation by curly brackets.1 (The examples given in the following table
(and in the above table) are meant only as an indication of the type of option
involved. A clause does not realize only one option but conflates a number of
simultaneous options (see also 2.4.8)).
1
See appendix 6 for other notational conventions.
53
These options can be further refined and extended.1 As Figure 2-3 illustrates, at a
primary degree of delicacy, systems networks tend to be taxonomic. It is only when
the degree of delicacy is increased and the networks become more complicated that
their efficacy and application in text generation, for example, becomes more
apparent.
There is no way in which a structure is first described and then by a separate step brought into
paradigmatic relation with other structures. A description is a statement of paradigmatic
relationships. (Halliday 1984: 6-7.)
This dual perspective is needed from the start: we can only describe a structure by
relating it to other structures. Methodologically, however, it is easier to start by
describing a structure, rather than by modelling the networks that have generated
the structure. Structures are more tangible; networks are more hypothetical. As
Halliday puts it (1985a: xxvii): “structures are less abstract; they are so to speak
nearer the text”).
From the discussion of the notions of system and structure in this section and
the previous section, it should be clear that the grammatical organization of a
language is not seen as a structure in SF theory ) either as a monolithic superstruc-
ture or as a number of clause structures. A language is seen as a resource or
potential, which, from a grammatical perspective, embodies lexical and grammati-
cal choices: a language is a meaning-making resource.
1
For some discussion of issues related to the formalization of options in systems networks,
see Martin 1987 and Fawcett 1988.
54
In section 2.4.4, the scale of rank was discussed. The other scales are delicacy and
realization (earlier referred to as exponence). The term “scale” is used in a slightly
different sense with reference to each of these. The scale of rank is referred to as
a scale because the units are hierarchically ordered: clause, group/phrase, word, and
morpheme. Delicacy1 refers to the degree of detail or differentiation that is made
at a particular rank. It is a scale in the sense of a cline: one can start by making very
broad and general distinctions in a system and then refine the analysis by making
finer, more specific distinctions. For example, at the primary degree of delicacy at
the rank of clause in Finnish grammar one might want to distinguish between
material and relational processes. At a greater degree of delicacy, one might then
want to distinguish between intensive and circumstantial relational processes, and
then distinguish between identifying and attributive relational processes, and so on.
1
Finnish: hienojakoisuus, tarkennus.
55
1
See Karvonen (1991, 1992) for a discussion of grammatical metaphor in Finnish.
56
grammatical metaphors also retain their literal or congruent meaning. (See also
5.2.2 and 6.6.)
2.4.8. Metafunctions
It is important to note that the examples given in Figure 2-4 are meant as an
indication of the type of meaning that is involved: they should not be misunder-
stood as implying that each clause (or linguistic unit) has only one function. This
position seems to be taken by Traugott (1982), whose model of linguistic change
is based on Halliday & Hasan (1976). Nevertheless, it is clear from Traugott’s
discussion that her model is not Hallidayan. For example, her “propositional
component” is explicitly based on truth-conditional semantics. As Halliday (1985b:
23) points out (in the context of analysing a written text):
1
While metafunctions are sometimes referred to as part of the lexicogrammatical system of
a language, this is not strictly true; however, statements like this are sometimes made because
of the non-arbitrary relationship between grammar and semantics (Thibault 1987: 608). In
this regard, Ellis (1987) makes a consistent distinction between function (i.e. metafunction)
and functional component.
57
We cannot pick out one word or one phrase and say this has only experiential meaning, or this
has only interpersonal meaning ... Every sentence in a text is multifunctional; but not in such
a way that you can point to one particular constituent or segment and say this segment has just
this function. The meanings are woven together in a very dense fabric in such a way that, to
understand them, we do not look separately at its different parts; rather we look at the whole
thing simultaneously from a number of different angles, each perspective contributing towards
the total interpretation.
The main difference between Figure 2-4 and Fawcett’s original diagram
concerns Fawcett’s view of how his minor functional components (marked with the
superscript “m” in Figure 2-4) relate to the metafunctions postulated by Halliday.
Fawcett puts a question mark in the Halliday column indicating that he is not sure
how these would fit into Halliday’s schema. It seems to me that Fawcett’s
inferential (he even fell down) and metalingual (he fell down, as it were) would
be considered interpersonal in Halliday’s schema as they are concerned with
speaker attitudes and judgments. The discourse organizational (firstly, he fell
down) seems to belong to the textual metafunction, as indicated in Figure 2-4. (Cf.
Gregory (1987: 100), who also regards Fawcett’s metalingual as falling within
Halliday’s interpersonal; he sees Fawcett’s discourse organizational as being
related to matters of textual cohesion, textual structure and register.)
58
textual
informational he fell down
yes
As can be seen from Figure 2-4, Fawcett’s and Halliday’s analyses differ in
that Fawcett separates out each metafunction into a number of distinct functional
59
(1) the metafunctional hypothesis: is it the case that systemic relationships (i.e.
the paradigmatic options available in a language) tend to fall into relatively
independent sets and that each set more or less corresponds to a different func-
tion of language (see Halliday 1973: 110);
(2) the second hypothesis concerns the tripartite analysis of the context of situ-
ation (i.e. in terms of field, tenor, and mode);
60
(3) the hypothesis about the relationship between these two: the contextual
variables of field, tenor and mode are regarded by Halliday (1978: 116-
117,142-145) as being typically associated with a particular metafunction.
Whether or not these hypotheses are feasible has never really been put to the test.
Gregory (1987: 104) suggests that an attempt to prove the existence of the
metafunctions could be seen as falling into the trap of scientism. He suggests that
they are “a means of tackling the manifold complexity of meaning” (cf. Firth in
2.2.5) and that we should continue using them as organizing and investigative
concepts in linguistic analysis.
There is no hard-and-fast division between vocabulary and grammar; the guiding principle in
language is that the more general meanings are expressed through the grammar, and the more
specific meanings through the vocabulary.
The relationship between grammar and lexis is seen as one of delicacy. This
approach was first suggested within the framework of scale and category gram-
mar by Halliday (1961: 267):
The grammarian’s dream is (and must be, such is the nature of grammar) of constant territo-
rial expansion. He would like to turn the whole of linguistic form into grammar, hoping to
show that lexis can be defined as “most delicate grammar”.
However, for work like this to be viable, a vast amount of statistical analysis
needs to be done, and, as Halliday (1961: 267) pointed out over three decades
ago, serious statistical work in linguistics had hardly begun. Because of this and
because of the difficulty of distinguishing lexical items using grammatical crite-
ria, scale and category grammar saw lexis in terms of open sets.
61
Hasan (1987b) has described how in a transitivity system for English if the
option [material process]1 is chosen, then a choice between sub-types of [action]
and [behaviour] processes is available. The following diagram, based on Hasan
(1987b: 186), illustrates these choices.2
1
It is customary to write the name of an option in square brackets when it appears in the
body of a text; brackets are not used when it appears in the systems network.
2
For notational conventions, see Appendix 6.
62
[ BENEFACTION ], which is a gloss for whether or not someone benefits from the
action. The following diagram (based on Hasan 1987b: 189) follows on from the
systems network above, and focuses on a sub-type of [ACT], which Hasan labels
[disposal], which can be described as actions that result in the gain or loss of ac-
cess to things, i.e. actions that are realized by such lexical items as give, share,
collect etc.
The system [ACC ESS ] involves a choice between whether someone loses or
gains access to something, i.e. whether she or he is taking or giving something;
the label [ CHARACTER ] is a gloss for the system which involves a choice between
whether or not an action is inherently iterative. Hasan shows how by taking the
combination [deprivation] and [iterative] and by postulating further sub-systems,
features can be established to distinguish between such lexical items as scatter,
strew, and spill.
grammatical criteria, then the notion of lexis as most delicate grammar is mis-
leading.
The categories employed in grammatical description are not simply set up to label
differences in meaning. Any semantic distinction that is set up must be systemati-
cally reflected in the grammatical organization of a language:
We do not argue: “these two sets of examples differ in meaning; therefore they must be sys-
tematically distinct in the grammar”. They may be; but if there is no lexicogrammatical reflex
of the distinction they are not. If we simply took account of differences in meaning, then any
set of clauses and phrases could be classified in all kinds of different ways; there would be no
way of preferring one scheme over another. The fact that this is a ‘functional’ grammar
means that it is based on meaning; but the fact that it is grammar means that it is an interpre-
tation of linguistic forms. Every distinction that is recognised in the grammar ... makes some
contribution to the form of the wording. Often it will be a very indirect one, but it will be
somewhere in the picture. (Halliday 1985a: xx.)
If language was a purely passive partner, ‘expressing’ a ‘reality’ that was already there, its
categories would be eminently glossable. But it is not. Language is an active participant in
the semogenic process. Language creates reality ) and therefore its categories of content
cannot be defined, since we could define them only by relating them to some pre-existing
model of experience, and there is no model of experience until the linguistic categories are
there to model it. The only meaning of Subject is the meaning that has evolved along with the
category itself. (Halliday 1988a: 39.) [Emphasis added.]
Similarly, Whorf (in Carroll (ed.) 1956: 92) says that “grammatical categories
represent experience ... but experience seen in terms of a definite linguistic
scheme”.
1
Cf. Hockett’s (1968) critique of Chomskyan linguistics in which he points out that the
grammar of a language is not well-defined, but ill-defined.
65
2.4.12. Prototypes
SF theory (and its predecessor scale and category grammar) has never been based
on the notion of categorial grammatical categories, as is clear from Halliday’s
(1961: 254) earliest account of the theory, where he discusses categories in terms
of likeness, which is seen as a cline ranging from “having everything in common”
to “having nothing in common”.1 In spite of Halliday’s early recognition of the
importance of not seeing linguistic phenomena in terms of categorial categories,
and in spite of the fact that concepts clearly related to the notion of a prototype
have been put forward during the past century (see Karlsson 1983a, Givón 1986),
it was not until the work of cognitive psychologists such as Rosch that other
schools of linguistic thought began to discuss linguistic categories in terms of
prototypes (e.g. Lakoff 1973, 1977, 1982, 1987; Ross 1972, 1973, 1974; Lakoff
& Johnson 1980; Givón 1982, 1986; Karlsson 1983a).
In linguistics, the notion of a prototype has been extended from the analysis
of lexical items to grammatical phenomena. Analysis in terms of prototypes is
evident in the analysis of process types in Chapter 6. Not all subtypes of rela-
tional processes, for example, possess all of the properties of the superordinate
process type.
1
Cf. Firth’s discussion (in Palmer (ed.) 1968: 46-47) of indeterminacy in language and
linguistic description.
66
With Prototype Theory, however, the moot point is the basis that we use for
establishing a prototype. Karlsson (1983a), although aware of this inherent prob-
lem, seems to put a lot of store on the quantitative analysis of computer corpora.
As most of the computer corpora in Finland consists of either various genres of
standardized written Finnish (from newspapers, magazines and novels) or dialect
interviews (i.e. interviews between a linguist and a speaker of a dialect), it is
worth considering whether the available corpora represent prototypical genres of
Finnish. If we are to invoke quantitative empirical evidence in support of a proto-
type, then it seems to me that our data should consist of what we consider to be
prototypical genres, i.e. genres with which all (or almost all) speakers of the lan-
guage come into contact in everyday life (see further Ch. 5, Shore 1991b). Other-
wise we should restrict our claims to the genres that are represented in our analy-
ses.
These two names for the same phenomenon come into linguistics from two separate tradi-
tions. The metaphor term comes from the literary analysis tradition, the analogy term from
the philosophical tradition, most recently via Kant and Peirce.
While these terms are similar, whether in fact they are identical is questionable. In
SF theory, at least, while analogy and metaphor are both pervasive meaning-mak-
ing resources in language, analogy is more basic, unlike metaphor it cannot be
related to a more basic (linguistic) analogy.
In the second place, the analysis of language ) or any other phenomena ) is nec-
essarily synoptic since any analysis must hold steady the dynamic flow of lan-
guage; it necessarily involves a synoptic perspective on the dynamic ) a frozen
representation of it. The linguist has to abstract and generalize from a constant
flux in which ) in the final analysis ) nothing is repeated. As Firth (1957: 190)
put it “each word when used in a new context is a new word”. (See further, Hasan
(in press).)
69
Chapter 3
The Finnish Language
3.1. Overview
Komi, which are spoken in Russia. The languages mentioned so far comprise
the Finnic branch of the Finno-Ugric languages. On the Ugric side are Mansi
(also referred to as Vogul) and Khanty (also referred to as Ostyak), spoken on
the eastern side of the Ural Mountains, and Hungarian. The Finno-Ugric lan-
guages and the Samoyed languages, which are spoken in the north-eastern re-
gions of Russia, together form the Uralic family of languages. (For more detail,
see, e.g., Austerlitz 1987, Branch 1987.)
As the total number of people who speak a language other than Finnish as
their first language is no more than approximately 7% of the population, and
almost all of the members of the established minority groups speak Finnish (or
signed Finnish) as their second language, it is clear that Finnish clearly domi-
nates the language scene in Finland. The Finnish spoken in Finland comprises a
71
number of dialects, all of which are mutually intelligible. The main dialect
groupings in Finland are shown on the map below.
Although these groupings are based on the situation prior to World War II,
they are still used by Finnish linguists today. They are used, for example, in the
Finnish Dialect Dictionary (Suomen murteiden sanakirja). As indicated on the
map, a broad division is generally made between the eastern and western dia-
lects. The so-called far northern dialects are usually grouped with the western
dialects. Swedish is spoken mainly along the coastal areas and Saame in the far
north of Finland.
Both the eastern and western dialects have contributed to standard written
Finnish (kirjakieli literally ‘book language’). Standardized spoken Finnish is
based on kirjakieli: what approximates as a spoken form of kirjakieli is consid-
ered to be standardized spoken Finnish (i.e. the Finnish heard on radio and tele-
vision news and current affairs broadcasts and in similar formal and public
situations). Written Finnish is very phonemic, so kirjakieli serves as a guide to
“correct pronunciation”, and when children learn to read and write Finnish, they
also learn the basis of standardized spoken Finnish.
It was not until the 1870s (when Finland was an Autonomous Grand
Duchy in the Russian Empire) that Finnish began to develop as a national and
literary language. Finnish scholars began to consciously develop the resources
of their languages so that Finland could develop as an advanced industrial na-
tion. This meant the development inter alia of various scientific and political
genres, and thus a lot of new words and scientific terms were coined. Some of
these words were taken from dialects other than those used by Agricola in his
writings. As well as this lexical input, other dialects increasingly began to influ-
ence the grammar and morphology of the standard written language. (For more
detail, see Korhonen 1986: 67ff.)
There are eight vowel phonemes in Finnish, which are generally tran-
scribed phonetically in the same way as they are normally written, although for
consistency /y/ is sometimes represented as /ü/, since the umlaut ( () is used to
mark front vowels in Finnish. The front vowels are: i, y (ü), e, ö, and ä; the
back vowels are: u, o, and a. There are seventeen consonant phonemes in Finn-
ish: p, b, t, k, g, d, s, š (sometimes written or typed as sh), h, f, v, j, l, r, m, n, õ
(written n, occurs only before k). The consonants p, t, and k are unaspirated.
The consonants b, g, š, and f are found only in recent loan words and are often
replaced by p, k, s, and v in the unselfconscious speech of some Finns. The
consonant d is also a recent addition to the consonant inventory of Finnish but it
is more established. It either occurs in recent loan words or else it occurs as the
counterpart of t in consonant gradation (see below); it is sometimes replaced by
t (unaspirated) or omitted. The use of d as a counterpart to t in consonant grada-
tion is largely the result of spelling pronunciation: it is assumed that the original
counterpart to t was a voiced dental fricative (IPA: [ð]), which Agricola repre-
sented orthographically as d or dh. When this sound began to disappear from
Finnish dialects, the d(h) in written Finnish began to be pronounced as a voiced
dental stop on the model of Swedish where a sound change from [ð] to [d] had
occurred. (See Lehikoinen & Kiuru 1991: 94 ff.)
Compared with English, there are a lot of diphthongs in Finnish (ei, ey, äi,
ui, ai, oi, öi, yi, au, ou, eu, iu, äy, öy, ie, yö, uo); but consonant clusters are
fairly restricted. Length is phonemically distinct in Finnish: short vowels are
distinct from long vowels and consonants are distinct from geminates (double
consonants). In Finnish orthography, a long vowel is written as a double vowel:
e.g. long /a:/ is represented as aa (cf. latu ‘skiing track’, laatu ‘quality’).
Geminates are written as double consonants (cf. muta ‘mud’, mutta ‘but’).
76
Vowel harmony means that a word either contains front vowels (ortho-
graphically: ä, ö, and y) or back vowels (a, o and u). The vowels /i/ and /e/ are
neutral and can occur with either front or back vowels.
FRONT BACK
CLO SE y i u
HALF-CLOSE ö e o
OPEN ä a
Because of vowel harmony, many case-endings have front and back variants. For
example, the inessive ending is either -ssa or -ssä, depending on whether the stem
has front vowels or back vowels: solmu ‘knot, tie’, solmussa ‘in a knot’, silmä
‘eye’, silmässä ‘in (one’s) eye’. There is no vowel harmony between the parts of
a compound word: työmaa ‘work place’. Exceptions to vowel harmony are wide-
ly found in recent loan words, e.g. hypoteesi ‘hypothesis’, konduktööri ‘conduc-
tor’.
Finite verbs in Finnish are similar to finite verbs in European languages: the
tenses in Finnish are present (or, more correctly non-past, as it is also used to
express future time), past, perfect, and pluperfect. Finite verbs are marked for
person and number, but not for gender, as gender is not expressed in the morphol-
ogy of Finnish. (Even the third person singular pronoun hän ‘he/she’ can refer to
either male or female; and in spoken Finnish, the third person singular pronoun se
‘he/she/it’ is used to refer to human and non-humans.)
There is agreement between the finite verb and the subject1: if there is a
finite verb with a personal ending in the clause, and, if the subject is realized in
the clause, then the verb agrees with it in number and person. This agreement
between subject and finite verb is consistent in standard written Finnish, although
it is not entirely consistent in informal spoken Finnish, where the third person
plural form of the verb is the same as the third person singular form and the indef-
inite (passive) form is used as a first person plural. The present indicative forms
of asua ‘to live’ (i.e. ‘to dwell’), for example, are as follows:
SINGULAR: SINGULAR:
1. (minä) asu+n ‘I live’ 1. mä asu+n ‘I live’
2. (sinä) asu+t ‘you live’ 2. sä asu+t ‘you live’
3. hän asu+u ‘she/he lives’ 3. se asu+u ‘she/he/it lives’
se asu+u ‘it lives’
PLURAL: PLURAL:
1. (me) asu+mme ‘we live’ 1. me asutaan ‘we live’
2. (te) asu+tte ‘you live’ 2. (te) asu+tte ‘you live’
3. he asu+vat ‘they [human] 3. ne asu+u ‘they [human or
ne asu+vat ‘they [non-human] live’ non-human] live’
INDEFINITE (passive): INDEFINITE (passive):
asu+ta+an ‘live (non-specified human asu+ta+an ‘live (non-specified
participant(s))’ human participant(s))’
The variants given illustrate the declarative in standardized written Finnish and in
informal spoken Finnish (i.e. based on the Finnish spoken in the Helsinki area).
Verbs inflect in all tenses. The personal endings are the same for all verbs, al-
though there is morphophonological variation in the stem of different verb types
(for a more detailed account of the different types, see L. Hakulinen 1961, Karls-
son 1983b).
1
The term “subject” is used here as a formal category, i.e. the nominal (or nominal group)
that agrees with the finite verb in number and person.
79
The bracketing of some of the pronouns in Figure 3-3 above serves to indi-
cate that a first or second person pronoun would only be realized in standardized
written Finnish in a marked or contrastive environment (see Helasvuo 1988: 67-
68); in spoken Finnish, the pronoun is often realized but there is some variation.
In other instances, it is typical for the pronoun to be realized unless it is presup-
posed by ellipsis, i.e. retrievable from the cotext (see Chapter 7). It should be
noted that the above division into standardized written and informal spoken does
not imply a simple dichotomy: as Halliday (1985b: 32) has pointed out, “there
are all sorts of writing and all sorts of speech, many of which display features
characteristic of the other medium”.
There are also conditional and potential inflexions in the verb. The condi-
tional has the infix -isi- e.g. mä asuisin ‘I would live’. The potential, which is
characterized by the infix -ne- (the n assimilates with the preceding consonant of
the stem in certain types), is rare and is generally confined to formal genres.
Finnish also has imperative inflections in the verb. The imperative forms of ottaa
‘(to) take’ for both spoken and written Finnish are given in Figure 3-4:
80
SINGULAR PLURAL
The first plural imperative (otta-kaa-mme ‘let us take’) is used mostly in formal
contexts, e.g. in a church service or in a toast. In most genres of Finnish, the pres-
ent tense of the indefinite form (otetaan ‘take-human participant’) in clause-ini-
tial position generally functions as an optative imperative. To some extent, this
form could be regarded as (a grammaticalization) of a 1. person plural imperative,
particularly if accompanied by high initial pitch; however, a clause-initial indefi-
nite can simply be a presentation of an action, rather than an orientation to a non-
linguistic response, e.g. tanssitaan ‘there’ll be dancing/let’s dance (see Shore
1988: 162-63.)
INDICATIVE (PRESENT)
SINGULAR PLURAL
1 en ota emme ota (~ei oteta )
2 et ota ette ota
3 ei ota eivät ota
INDEFINITE: ei oteta
IMPERATIVE
SINGULAR PLURAL
1 ) älkäämme ottako
2 älä ota älkää ottako
3 älköön ottako älkööt ottako
As with the positive forms in Figure 3-3 above, however, there is generally
no distinction between the singular and plural in the negative auxiliary of a third
person declarative in informal spoken Finnish, and a first person plural is formed
with the pronoun me and the indefinite form, which also has a third person nega-
tive auxiliary. With se ‘(s)he/it’, ne ‘they’, and me ‘we’, the pronoun would nor-
mally be realized in a negative clause, unless it is presupposed by ellipsis. With
the other personal forms, however, the negative is marked for number, even in a
simple response to a polar interrogative:
<B> en [CA10:2]
NEG+1SG
‘No /I haven’t.’
82
The translations are given only as some sort of guide for those unfamiliar
with Finnish; a Finnish partitive, for example, can be glossed as ‘non-bounded’ in
contrast to a nominative, accusative or genitive, which are ‘bounded’ (see section
3.4.2) and would often be translated by a basic nominal in English (i.e. without an
article). The capital A in some of the case-endings stands for /a/ or /ä/. The capital
V in the illative indicates a lengthening of the stem vowel. Many of the case-
forms listed here have other, phonologically conditioned variants.
The examples given in Figure 3-6 are of an adjective and noun (pieni talo
‘small house’) and a pronoun (sinä ‘you’), but there is agreement or concord
amongst all the words in a nominal phrase, 1 so if a Deictic is added, it would be
in the same case-form as the Head:
There are, however, a handful of common adjectives that do not inflect for case or
number: for example, koko ‘whole’ (koko talossa ‘in the whole house’), viime
‘last’ (viime viikolla ‘(during) last week’), eri ‘different’ (eri paikoissa ‘in differ-
ent places’).
1
The term “group” is not employed in the description of Finnish in this study (see Ch. 4).
83
NOMINATIVE pieni talo a/the small house pienet talot (the) small houses
) sinä you te you
PARTITIVE pientä taloa (of) a/the small house pieniä taloja (of) (the) small houses
-(t)A sinua (of) you teitä (of) you
GENITIVE pienen talon of a/the small house pienten talojen of (the) small houses
-n sinun your teidän your
ESSIVE pienenä talona as/for a/the small pieninä taloina as/for small houses
-nA house teinä as you, if I were you
sinuna as you, if I were you
TRANSLATIVE pieneksi taloksi into (a/ the) small pieniksi taloiksi into (the) small houses
-ksi house teiksi into you
sinuksi into you
INESSIVE pienessä talossa in(side) the small pienissä taloissa in(side) (the) small houses
-ssA house teissä in(side) you
sinussa in(side) you
ILLATIVE pieneen taloon into (a/ the) small pieniin taloihin into (the) small houses
-Vn house teihin to you
sinuun to you
ELATIVE pienestä talosta from in(side) the pienistä taloista from in(side) the small
-stA small house houses
sinusta from you teistä from you
ADESSIVE pienellä talolla by/on /near a/the pienillä taloilla by/on/near a/the small
-llA small house, autolla by car houses, autoilla by (more than one) car
sinulla by/on you teillä by/on you
ALLATIVE pienelle talolle to (by etc.) the pienille taloille to (by/on/near) the small
-lle small house houses
sinulle to/for you teille to/for you
ABLATIVE pieneltä talolta from (by etc.) the pieniltä taloilta from (by/on/ near) the
-ltA small house small houses
sinulta from you teiltä from you
The uses of the following cases are more restricted: i.e. they typically occur
with only certain types of stem or in certain idiomatic expressions. The abessive
and the instructive, however, are commonly used with a verb stem (see Figure 3-
10 below).
85
Plural forms of the abessive and instructive are rare, and there is no distinction
between singular and plural in the comitative and the prolative case.
1st infinitive (basic form): olla ‘(to) be’, mennä ‘(to) go’
(longer form): ollakseen ‘(in order) to be’
STEM + TRANSLATIVE + POSSESSIVE SUFFIX
What is called the fourth infinitive occurs in (often slightly archaic sounding)
modal type constructions: sinne ei ole menemistä ‘one must not go there’.
The longer form of the 1st infinitive as well the 2nd and 3rd infinitive al-
ways occurs with a case-ending. The following table lists the case-forms that can
occur with these infinitives and gives some examples.
Some of these cases also occur with an indefinite (passive) stem (see Karlsson
1983b: 157 ff).
The account that I have given above differs from some traditional accounts of
Finnish cases (e.g. Ikola 1977, Hakulinen & Karlsson 1979, Karlsson 1983b) in
respect of the accusative case. As discussed in this section, the notion of the accu-
sative in many accounts of Finnish is based on a confusion of form and function.
In the ensuing discussion, I am not, of course, suggesting that Finnish linguists
are not aware of this confusion: the accusative in the received grammatical tradi-
tion has developed as a convenience in order to explain the case-marking of what
is traditionally referred to as the object.
1
Even though the pronoun se ‘(s)he/it’ is used to refer to humans in spoken Finnish (see
Figure 3-6 above), it does not pattern like a human pronoun but like a singular nominal.
88
Leaving aside the partitive for the moment, a noun (or a nominalized verb form)
that is the object in a clause is said to be in the accusative. In this view, there are
two types of “accusative” forms for nominals: a) without an ending, the
“nominative-like” accusative, and b) with an ending, the “genitive-like” accusa-
tive. In other words, if an object is in the nominative or genitive, it has been re-
ferred to as an “accusative”.
1
In fact, it might be more appropriate to refer to the nominative in Finnish as an absolutive.
89
question if one takes into account the function of the genitive in modern Finnish.
As discussed more fully below, the genitive in Finnish scans a semantic contin-
uum from a somewhat concrete and tangible notion of possession (e.g. Susannan
talo ‘Susanna’s house’) to a more ineffable and abstract notion of subordination
(hypotaxis) (e.g. yllättävän lapsellinen [surprising+GEN childish] ‘surprisingly
childish’). This being the case, one could also argue that there is a subordinative
relationship between the verb and an NP in the genitive-like accusative (as illus-
trated by 6 above). The fact that only certain singular nominals are marked in this
way is no more or no less problematic than assuming that only certain objects
were marked in the accusative.
In Décsy’s (1990: 68-69,81) view, on the other hand, there was no special
accusative marking in Proto-Uralic. Décsy regards the possessive relationship as
the most basic: the m-accusative developed from a 1st person possessive ending
at a later stage. The genitive is considered by Décsy to be secondary. A first per-
son possessive in modern Finnish ends in -ni (e.g. minu+n talo+ni I+GEN
house+1SG/POS ‘my house’), but the possessive n is assumed to have developed
from an m (cf. minä ‘I’). What happened during or after the Proto-Uralic stage is
pure conjecture, but the link that Décsy sets up between the accusative and the
possessive also links the accusative with the genitive, since a possessive relation-
ship in Finnish is marked by a possessive suffix as just indicated, or by a pronoun
or noun in the genitive: minun taloni I+GEN house+1S G /P O S ‘my house’) Susan-
nan talo [Susanna +GEN house] ‘Susanna’s house’. This link between the accusa-
tive and the genitive undermines the need to have postulated a separate accusative
form in the first place.
To consider more fully the link between the genitive-like accusative and the
ordinary genitive, it may be helpful to look at ordinary genitives in Finnish. The
genitive is extensively used in modern Finnish,1 and it seems to have a consistent
grammatical function. According to Kangasmaa-Minn (1991), the genitive in
1
According to one statistical study (Pajunen & Palomäki 1982), the genitive is the second
most frequent case-form in Finnish.
91
One might alternatively argue that the genitive marks a rankshifted (em-
bedded) element in Finnish. In fact, while Kangasmaa-Minn refers to the genitive
as a marker of subordination (or dependency), she attempts to throw some light
on clauses containing a constituent in the genitive by comparing them to clauses
that contain an embedded clause. A clause containing a genitive is said to be syn-
tactically complex. The clause Helsingin kaupunki sijaitsee rannikolla [Hel-
sinki+GEN city is-situated coast+ADE ] ‘The city of Helsinki is situated on the
coast’ is compared to a matrix clause Kaupunki sijaitsee rannikolla ‘The city is
situated on the coast’ and an embedded clause Kaupunki on Helsinki ‘The city is
Helsinki’. As is obvious from this example, Kangasmaa-Minn’s notion of embed-
ding is based on transformational-generative theory: the surface clause is repre-
sented in a hypothetical deep structure as a clause containing another embedded
clause. Moreover, in Kangasmaa-Minn’s analysis, the genitive itself is not em-
bedded, but the clause containing the genitive is compared to a clause in which
there is another embedded clause.
92
laivanrakennustoimintaa. [HKV]
ship+GEN (3) + building+activity+PAR
‘Looked at superficially, the problems in the ship-building industry seem to affect only a
few (such) ports in which ships are being built.’
1
The present participle koskevan is considered to be a “genitive-like accusative” by Finnish
grammarians (e.g. Ikola 1977: 153).
93
vides a more realistic view of “how language works” (Halliday 1961: 242), or, at
least, of how the Finnish language works.
1
The instructive (also ending in -n) could also be tied into the discussion of the genitive and
accusative, since it has been etymologically related to the genitive (L. Hakulinen 1979: 106).
However, in contemporary Finnish, while the singular instructive is identical with the singular
genitive, there is a plural instructive (while rarely used) that differs in form from both the
genitive plural and the nominative plural.
94
3.4.2. Boundedness
The difference in the case-marking of nominals between the partitive, on the one
hand, and the nominative, accusative and genitive, on the other, is essentially a
difference in boundedness. To simplify things somewhat, the nominative, accusa-
tive, and genitive refer to something that is constructed as being bounded in time
or space1: either to 1) a bounded entity or an entirety or to a set of entities or to
2) a process which is bounded.2 If the entity or process is not bounded, it is real-
ized by an NP in the partitive. The following clauses illustrate some of the ways
in which this distinction is realized; the a-clauses are non-bounded, the b-clauses
bounded:
1
The notion of space should not be understood only in concrete terms. Moreover, as
discussed in this section, a distinction between space and time is not construed in the
grammar of boundedness in Finnish.
2
Finnish grammarians have traditionally referred to a bounded process as a “resultative”
process. This can roughly be glossed as perfective or telic (i.e. one that moves towards a
logical conclusion (see Comrie 1976: 44-48)).
95
b. Maalasin talon.
paint+PAS+1SG house+GEN
‘I painted a/the house (all of it).’
b. Mies ammuttiin.
man+NOM shot+INDE+PAST
‘A/The man was shot (dead).’
b. Hänet ammuttiin.
(s)he+ACC shot+INDE+PAST
‘She/He was shot (dead).’
The significant factor is not whether the finite verb is formally negative, but
whether the meaning is negative.
If the clause is negative, the nominal in the nominative in the first example above
(20) would generally be in the partitive. (See next section (3.4.3) for a discussion
of the effect of negative polarity on example 23.)
In these example, kirves ‘axe’ is a concrete entity and uutiset ‘news’ construes a
set of events that is bounded in space and time.
On the other hand, if the relationship between a bounded subject and the
complement is not exhaustive, then complement would be in the partitive.
98
With the uutiset ‘news’ example above (25), if the complement were in the plural
partitive (i.e. uutiset ovat lyhyitä) it would mean something like ‘(television or
radio) news are short (in all countries and at all times)’.
Ordinary plural subjects (e.g. pojat ‘(the) boys’) are generally non-bounded:
1
Cf. Kirves on kultainen ‘The axe is golden’, where there is an exhaustive relationship
between the adjective kultainen ‘golden’ and the subject kirves ‘axe’, i.e. the axe is
exhaustively characterized as being golden. In example 26, on the other hand, the substance
realized by the mass noun kulta ‘gold’ is not exhausted by the axe, and thus it is in the
partitive as illustrated.
2
See Halliday (1985a: 160) for a discussion of these terms with reference to English.
99
Although the partitive seems to be far more frequent, in certain instances the com-
plement can be in the nominative. Yli-Vakkuri (1969) suggests that it is most
natural for the complement to be in the nominative if the relationship between the
subject and complement is cotextually or contextually bounded. The following
example is from Yli-Vakkuri (1969: 263):
‘The boys were wildly happy about the gift and would like to extend their thanks.’
The discussion presented here is meant only as an outline. For a more com-
prehensive discussion, see, for example, Setälä (1891) or earlier or later editions,
Sadeniemi 1950, Denison 1957, Yli-Vakkuri 1969, T. Itkonen 1974a, 1979, Brig-
den 1984, Heinämäki 1984, Toivonen 1986, Larjavaara 1991 and Leino 1991; see
also Carlson 1981, Dahl 1981 and Langacker 1987 for a general discussion of
boundedness with examples from English. The notion of boundedness as realized
in Finnish can also be related to the notion of definiteness as realized in English
(see Chesterman 1991).
In this study, I reject the received notion of grammatical subject in Finnish. I con-
fine the subject in Finnish to NPs with the following characteristics:
1
As indicated in Figure 3-3 above, in spoken Finnish, a third person plural subject does not
always agree with the verb in number and a first person plural subject occurs with a verb form
that is not marked for number or person (see Shore 1988: 155, 164). However, in these
instances, there is agreement in standardized written (and formal spoken) Finnish.
100
) The subject is unaffected by the polarity of the verb, i.e. if we compare the clause in ques-
tion with an agnate clause with negative polarity, the relevant element would remain in the
nominative case.
A similar view is taken by Vilkuna (1989: 46,150). This definition of the gram-
matical subject in Finnish will be adopted in Chapters 5 and 6 of this study. Un-
like English, however, the grammatical subject in Finnish does not realize an
interpersonal function: it will be argued that it realizes an experiential function.
The received notion of subject in Finnish (see Hakulinen & Karlsson 1979:
158-172), is a mixture of grammatical and semantic properties, some of which
contradict each other. It seems to me that the reason for this is that the notion of
subject ) as it has evolved in grammatical descriptions of Finnish ) is based on
the Indo-European notion of subject. The first models for grammars of Finnish
were grammars of Latin, and, subsequently, Finnish grammarians have been in-
fluenced by grammatical descriptions of Indo-European languages, and, in recent
years, more specifically by descriptions of English.
The logical basis of subject and predicate in Finnish is evident in the follow-
ing quotation from Siro (1964: 16):
There are different components in a clause, the main components being the subject and the
predicate, for example Aurinko paistaa ‘The sun shines/is shining’, in which the expression
aurinko ‘sun’ is referred to as the subject and paistaa ‘shines’ the predicate. [Translation:
S.S.]
Siro, however, goes on to point out that many clauses types in Finnish do not
have a subject. Some indication of the proportion of subjectless clauses in Finnish
is given in a corpus-based statistical analysis of written Finnish: 19% of all
clauses examined were subjectless (Hakulinen, Karlsson & Vilkuna 1980: 29-31).
Moreover, the notion of a “grammatical subject” in this analysis is elastic: it in-
cludes not only NPs in the nominative case that agree with the finite verb in num-
ber and person but also NPs in the genitive or partitive case that do not agree with
the verb.
1
They are similar to the impersonal verb constructions in Australian languages as described,
for example, by Walsh (1987). See further Chapter 6.
102
Regardless of their statistical frequency in a written corpus, clauses like these are
by no means unusual in everyday interaction ) they are in some sense very fun-
damental to intimate, everyday interaction as expressions of personal drives, feel-
ings and emotions. This is reflected in the fact that they occur in child language at
a very early age (see Toivainen 1980: 126-27; 1986: 457).
On the other hand, there are a number of other clause types that contain an
NP which has been regarded as a subject, but this subject does not meet the crite-
ria listed at the beginning of this section, i.e. that it is in the nominative case,
agrees with the verb in number and person, and it is unaffected by the polarity of
the verb. Furthermore, there are no other grammatical criteria that would link
these so-called subjects to the subject as defined in this study. Clauses with dubi-
ous subjects include existential clauses (which includes a subset of what have
been referred to as “possessive constructions”) and necessitative clauses. The
“subject” in an existential clause is in the nominative or partitive case, and the
verb (olla ‘be’ or an intransitive verb) is always in the third person singular form,
i.e. if the “existential subject” is plural, it does not agree with it in number:
Whereas the subject (as defined at the beginning of this section) is always in
the nominative, an “existential subject”, on the other hand, may be in the nomina-
tive in a clause with positive polarity, but would be in the partitive in an agnate
clause in the negative. Thus, if the polarity of clause 34 above is changed, the
“existential subject” would be in the partitive:
These inherently bounded NPs are not necessarily affected by the polarity of the
verb. In line with Vilkuna’s (1989: 159) suggestion, however, it seems to me that,
in instances where the NP in question is unaffected by the polarity of the verb, the
clause is not an existential clause but a normal circumstantial relational process.
Instances in which the NP would be affected by the polarity of the verb, on the
other hand, could be considered existential.
To summarize the main points in this section: the traditionally defined gram-
matical subject in Finnish has evolved from a logically based notion of subject
imported from the Indo-European grammatical tradition. As a consequence it
involves a confusion of form and function. It is generally in the nominative, but
sometimes in the partitive or even in the genitive. It is generally unaffected by the
polarity of the verb, but in some instances it is affected. In this study, the gram-
matical subject is defined as a formal category: an NP in the nominative that (po-
tentially) agrees with the verb in number and person. In later chapters, I shall
argue that it is one way in which the experiential function Medium is realized.
Chapter 4
Constituency and Dependency in Finnish
4.1. Overview
The rank hierarchy hypothesis assumes that there are certain basic units, which
form a strict constituency hierarchy. While this hierarchical constituency organi-
zation might be assumed to be universal, the units themselves are language spe-
cific. If, for example, one assumes that the basic units in Finnish are the same as
in English (as, for example, Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979: 65-66) assume), then in
the basic grammatical organization of Finnish the highest ranking unit on the
constituency structure hierarchy is a clause, which consists of one or more
phrases or groups, which consist of one or more words, which consist of one or
106
The term phrase (Finnish: lauseke) was introduced into grammatical de-
scriptions of Finnish by linguists influenced by transformational-generative gram-
mar. I shall use the term phrase is the SF sense, i.e. for the rank intermediate be-
tween clause and word. The term group will not be employed: while there are
differences between nominal phrases (NPs) and pre- and postpositional phrases
(PPs) in Finnish, these do not correspond to the difference between phrase and
group in English. Moreover, verbal and adverbial phrases also differ in crucial
ways from NPs and PPs. It seems to me that the use of a Premodifier with the
term phrase ) nominal, prepositional, verb(al) and adverbial ) suffices to distin-
guish between various types of phrases in Finnish. Thus the term VP as used in
this thesis is not to be confused with a VP in the transformational-generative
sense (where VP ÷ V + NP). Huddleston (1984: 112 ff.) also uses VP in the
sense that I am using it here; he suggests that the term “extended VP” is used to
refer to the transformational-generative notion of a VP.
1
There are often complex morphophonological changes in word stems and affixes; thus,
dividing a word into its constituent morphemes is not always a straightforward procedure.
107
not a grammatical unit; it may correspond to one clause or more than one clause,
it may be an elliptical clause, or even a phrase or word.
1
Clause C
*
Phrase C ))))))) C ))))))))))))) C ))))))))))))))))))))) C
* * * *
Word C C C C )))))))))))))))))))) C
* * * * *
Morpheme C C ))) C ))) C C )))) C C C ))) C ))) C ))))) C
* * * * * * * * * * *
(1) sä ol + i + t möki+llä viime viiko+n + loppu +na [Tel1:1]
you be+PAST+2SG cottage+ADE last week +GEN + end +ESS
‘You were at the (summer) cottage at the weekend (last weekend).’
Where branching does not occur in the example, it would have been possible for
branching to occur (e.g. mökillä ‘at the cottage’ ÷ firman omistamalla mökillä
[firm+GEN own+INF+ADE ] ‘at the cottage owned by the firm’) or else the item is
in paradigmatic contrast with other items that would permit branching (e.g. sä
‘you’ ÷ sun ruotsalaiset ystävät ‘your Swedish friends’, with concomitant
changes in the form of the verb).
With many examples from dialogue, one needs to take into account the fact
that dialogue is collaborative, and what someone has just said is rarely repeated
but presupposed by ellipsis, as illustrated in the following example:
÷ – minkälaisissa konserteissa?
what-kind+PL+INE concerts+PL+INE
‘What kinds of concerts?’
108
The constituency approach has the virtue of identifying items larger than words ) clauses and
phrases ) so that the grammar can make generalizations about these items; for instance, this
allows us to distinguish between interrogative and declarative clauses, or between relative and
adverbial clauses, without having to pretend that these properties were properties of some
particular word, such as the verb ... Systemic grammars depend crucially on being able to
assign features to higher nodes, ... so it is essential to have higher nodes, as in the constitu-
ency approach ....
On the other hand, the dependency approach has the virtue of being able easily to capture the
dependency relations between parts ...
110
There are at least two problems that immediately arise when the rank hypothesis
is applied to Finnish. The first problem arises when any kind of constituency
analysis ) ranked or otherwise ) is applied to Finnish. It concerns what are gener-
ally referred to as discontinuous constituents, as exemplified by the verbal group
ei oo menny (standardized written: ei ole mennyt) ‘hasn’t gone’ in the following
clause:
Because word order in Finnish is flexible (for the most part it is conditioned by
textual factors), examples like this are not uncommon in either spoken and written
Finnish (for some further examples and discussion, see Vilkuna 1989: 124-127,
197 ff.). Thus, many of the constituency trees in Finnish would contain branches
that crossed over each other. However, because the mode of interpretation in SF
grammar is a functional one, and grammatical structure is explained by reference
to the meaning, there is no problem in recognizing ei oo menny ‘hasn’t gone’ as
a unit that can be interpreted as a Process.
clause. On the other hand, the arrow notation used in dependency grammar to link
a dependent element to its Head would be more suitable for capturing the depend-
ency relationship between elements, particularly between the elements in a dis-
continuous constituent. It would be feasible to develop a representation similar to
Hudson’s (1976, 1987) in which dependency arrows are used in conjunction with
a constituency tree diagram.1
(The modal NP varmaan ‘for sure’ is not analysed as it is outside the experiential
structure of the clause.)
1
Halliday’s (1985a: Chapter 6) analysis of groups is based on both constituency and
dependency, although he does not develop a way of showing dependency in a tree diagram.
112
figuration in conjunction with the verb ei oo menny ‘hasn’t gone’. The meaning
of the process realized by the verb mennä ‘(to) go’ depends on the structural en-
tirety of which it is a part, not on the isolated verb form. In other syntagms, the
verb form mennä ‘(to) go’ can realize the process in a relational process: mä
menin ihan kalpeaksi ‘I went/ turned completely pale’.
While this study is not concerned with an in-depth analysis of the problems in-
volved in incorporating morphology ) both inflexional and derivational morphol-
ogy ) into a lexicogrammatical description of Finnish, a few general points about
morphology need to be made. As pointed out in 2.4.9 (p. 60), the lexicogrammar
of a language is seen as a continuum in which more general meanings are realized
grammatically and more specific meanings are realized lexically. Grammatical
meanings in Finnish are realized both syntactically and morphologically, and this
presents another problem for the rank hierarchy hypothesis. For example, the
finite verb in Finnish is marked for person and the indefinite verb form contains a
morpheme that realizes an unspecified human participant. This means that an
Agent can be realized morphologically: juoksin ran+1SG ‘I ran’; juostiin
‘ran+INDE (unspecified human participant(s))’. Thus, for Finnish, one needs to
recognize that, in certain instances, the VP can realize two functional roles: the
process and an inherent participant.
Clauses like this are typical of written Finnish; in spoken Finnish, on the other
hand, it is typical for the pronoun to be realized, unless it is presupposed by ellip-
sis 1:
1
Ellipsis will be discussed more fully in Chapter 7.
113
This poses a problem for the rank hypothesis since an essential feature of the
rank hypothesis is that it facilitates the making of generalizations about paradig-
matic and syntagmatic relations:
It defines a point of origin for systems and structures, so that the assignment of any item to a
given rank, as also the assignment of the structures and systems themselves, becomes an
important step in generalization (Halliday 1966: 112).
Thus, for example, it is generally assumed that the entry condition for transitivity
(experiential structure) is the major clause and that transitivity functions (such as
Actor, Process, Goal etc.) are realized by phrases. When singulary branching
occurs, a phrase can be made up of a single word or even a single morpheme.
Thus, words consisting of a single morpheme ) Anne, poika ‘(a/the) boy’ and mä
‘I’ ) can realize transitivity functions. Singulary branching in itself is not a prob-
lem. What is problematic in instances such as example 4 above, is the fact that a
VP in Finnish can consist of morphemes that realize different transitivity func-
tions: ol+i+n ‘be (stem) + PAST + 1SG ’. In these instances, the 1. person singular
morpheme is an immediate constituent of the clause: it directly realizes a transi-
tivity function.
This means that we may have to acknowledge that upward rankshifting oc-
curs, i.e. the morpheme moves up the rank scale and functions in the way we
would expect a phrase to function. However, the instances in which upward
rankshifting could be said to occur in Finnish are clearly defined: VPs with a 1. or
2. person ending and VPs containing an indefinite morpheme. Moreover, these
exceptions are interpretable from a common sense point of view: 1. and 2. person
pronouns are so-called speech act pronouns that do not necessarily need the ex-
panded semantic potential that is afforded by the phrase. The Finnish indefinite,
on the other hand, is used to refer to (a) non-specified human participant(s), and it
would be semantically anomalous to expand it using the potential of an NP (see
Shore 1988: 160).
114
Nominal Phrases are phrases that have a nominal as Head, i.e. the Head belongs
to a word class that can be inflected for case (see 3.3.3, pp. 82 ) 87) and number.
NPs have the same functions in a clause as nouns; however, as nouns in Finnish
are also inflected in the so-called locative cases, an NP in Finnish can also func-
tion as an Adjunct in a clause. The following are examples of NPs in Finnish:
puutalo
wood+house -NOM
Classifier + Entity2
1
See Karlsson (1983b: 91-93) for an outline and some discussion of possessive suffixes in
standardized written Finnish; spoken Finnish is briefly discussed by Karlsson (1983b: 208).
2
I have substituted the term Entity for Halliday’s label Thing because it sounds less concrete
(cf. Halliday 1985a: Chapter 6).
115
puutaloissa
wood+house +PL+INE
Classifier + Entity
(8) siellä
there+ADE
Deictic
‘there’
These examples and many of the examples used in this section are not authentic,
and may even sound contrived; moreover, I doubt that NPs with a lot of modifiers
occur very frequently in actual (spoken or written) text. However, the point of the
examples is to illustrate the potential of NPs in Finnish.
In this study, an NP is defined by its Head and the type of modifiers that it
can (potentially) have, and not by its function. An NP can function in the clause
as a participant (inherent role) or as a circumstance. This can be compared to the
approach adopted by Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979: Chapters 7 ) 8), which is
influenced by transformational grammar. They refer to Noun Phrases (NPs), with
a noun as Head, and other “nominal phrases” (nominaaliset lausekkeet). Under
the heading of nominal phrases, they include Adjective Phrases, Quantifier
Phrases, Adverbial Phrases and Pre- and Postpositional Phrases. On the other
hand, they distinguish Adverb Phrases, with an adverb as Head, from Adverbial
Phrases, which function in a clause as an adverbial (i.e. a Circumstance). This
means that they postulate seven different types of Adverbial Phrase in Finnish:
Adverb Phrase (which has an adverb as Head), subordinate clauses, Noun Phrases
in which the Head is not in one of the grammatical cases (as in 7 above), P-posi-
tional Phrases, Quantifying Phrases, Adjectival Phrases, and non-finite verb con-
structions (Hakulinen & Karlsson 1979: 151-152). Thus, in Hakulinen & Karls-
son’s analysis, example 7 above, would be an NP functioning as an Adverbial
Phrase.
116
. , * ( $ "
within the NP, i.e. that tuohon ‘(to) there’ is not subordinative to puutaloon ‘to
the wood(en)house’. This is reflected by the fact that if the Entity is omitted, un-
like English, nothing is needed in Finnish to fill its place, as illustrated by the
following dialogues:1
On the other hand, there are arguments that indicate that the Entity is (typi-
cally) the Head (unless it is presupposed by ellipsis). For example, Huddleston
(1984: 110) in his analysis of English, points out that when phrases combine to
form larger units, there are often restrictions that affect the Head, but not the de-
pendents. Thus, for instance, it is the Entity/Head that determines the case-form
of a Post-Modifier, as in the following example:
1
I have adopted Huddleston’s (1984) convenient notation of using angle brackets that enclose
letters to represent different speakers.
118
‘Professor Lagerspetz has not taken up the issue [lit. gone to war] in order to establish [put
on the table]]-‘
aggressiivisuudesta. [HKV]
aggressiveness+ELA
_________________________________________________ _____________________
$ "
MODIFIER HEAD
The submodification of iso ‘big’ by valtava ‘huge’ in this example is not obvious
as the Sub-Head iso ‘big’ is part of another Modifier. If it were part of an inde-
pendent phrase, however, the submodification would be clear: tuo valtavan iso
talo ‘that extremely big house/building’.
There are various infinitives, gerunds and participles in Finnish (see 3.3.3, p.
85 ff.), and these can function as the Head or as a Modifier in an NP. For exam-
ple:
Non-finite verb forms are Janus-like (double-faced) in that, on the one hand, they
function like other types of constituents in an NP, but, on the other hand, they can
occur with elements realizing Participants and Circumstances that are generally
associated with the Process in a clause. Because of this, it seems to me that it is
valid to analyse these non-finite verb forms in two ways: those instances in which
120
the non-finite form occurs alone can be treated like ordinary Heads or Modifiers
in an NP, whereas those instances in which the non-finite form is accompanied by
a Participant or a Circumstance can be treated as instances of embedding, i.e. it is
a non-finite clause that functions within the structure of the host NP. For example,
the participle and the circumstance that occurs with it in the following NP can be
regarded as a non-finite clause embedded within the host NP:
‘in many of her works (of art) that came about as a result of her trip to Iceland’
In many NPs, it is the Entity ( ` nominal) that functions as the Head. How-
ever, as mentioned above, an adjective is the Head in an Adjectival Phrase and
there are also NPs, in which an Epithet, Numerative or Deictic is the Head. These
are generally either elliptic, i.e. the Entity can be retrieved from the preceding
(spoken or written) text, or it is dependent on the (extralinguistic) context for its
interpretation.1
1
As discussed in Chapter 7, I make a distinction between non-realization, which is
contextually conditioned, and ellipsis, which is a (co)textual phenomena.
122
Head Modifier
Numerative Entity
‘half of them’
Head Modifier
Measure Entity
‘a cup of coffee’
Head Modifier
Numerative Entity
‘ten kilometres’
Pre- and postpositional phrases (PPs) could also be regarded as a subtype of Nom-
inal Phrase. As Finnish has both pre- and postpositions, I shall use the cover term
“p-position” and refer to pre- and postpositional phrases as PPs. A preposition
precedes the nominal (e.g. kohti Singaporea ‘towards Singapore’) whereas a
postposition follows the nominal (e.g. Singaporen jälkeen ‘after Singapore’).
Nominals that are case-marked in one of the locative cases (e.g. Singaporessa ‘in
Singapore) are NPs in Finnish.
Historically, the vast majority of pre- and postpositions in Finnish have de-
veloped from inflected nominal forms (L. Hakulinen 1979: 501), and, this is evi-
denced by a number of features in contemporary Finnish. The case-ending of a p-
position is often evident, although in some instances the cases are used with the
meanings they had at earlier stages in the development of Finnish: the translative
(-ksi) , the essive (-na/nä) and the partitive (-(t)a/(t)a) originally had locative
meanings in Finnish (see, e.g., L. Hakulinen 1979, Leino 1990). The nominal-like
nature of p-positions is also reflected in the fact that a possessive suffix can be
attached to many of them, e.g. (minun) edessä+ni [my in-front-of+PO S1 ] ‘in front
of me’, (sinun) takanasi [your(sg) behind +PO S/2SG ] ‘behind you’ (cf. nominals
with a possessive suffix (minun) talo+ni ‘my house’).
As illustrated in these examples, all of the submodifying elements agree with each
other in number and case. Prepositions are not as numerous as postpositions.
While postpositions tend to occur with the genitive, prepositions tend to occur
with the partitive.2
1
takana ‘[at] behind’, takaa ‘from behind’, taakse ‘to behind’.
2
For a list of the most common Finnish pre- and postpositions, see Karlsson 1983b.
125
1
There is a slight inconsistency in Hakulinen & Karlsson’s (1979) analysis in that on p. 107
a p-positional phrase is said to be one in which a pre- or a postposition is the Head.
126
similar phenomena does not explain what is a clear exception to their analysis,
moreover it involves a contradiction in that it is clear that in their analysis of NPs,
NPs such as (minun) koirani ‘my dog’ would be regarded as endocentric (Head-
Modifier constructions).
A translation has not been provided for 26b because something like “the dog is
walking beside/at the side” would be strange and unidiomatic in English. A
translation that captures the completeness of the Finnish would be “the dog is
walking nearby”, but this translation is closer to the p-position with the stem
lähe- ‘near’ in Finnish. There is nothing odd about 26b in Finnish: the entity that
the dog is walking beside is simply not specified.1 Hakulinen & Karlsson’s analy-
sis of vieressä in 26b as an adverb is the traditionally accepted analysis in Fin-
land, and it is adopted by Nykysuomen sanakirja (Contemporary Finnish Dictio-
nary).2
1
Cf. Salmi (1990: 14), who in terms of Cognitive Grammar, regards examples like this as
instances in which the landmark is unspecified. Salmi, however, also refers to these as
adverbs.
2
This, of course, corresponds to the traditional analysis of words like before in English in the
contexts before the altar and She had never been to Finland before. The former is considered
to be a preposition, the latter an adverb.
127
The fact that p-positions without a modifier have been referred to as adverbs
seems to stem from the fact that word-classes or parts of speech in Finnish have
been based on traditionally recognized Indo-European parts of speech, which
were first established for Greek and Latin. In Priscian’s grammar (Robins (1967:
57-58, 64), for example, an adverb is an unchangeable form used with a verb and
a preposition is a separate word that occurs before case-inflected words. Stem-
ming from this Latinate model is the generally accepted traditional view that ad-
verbs are a word class used to qualify verbs, adjectives and other adverbs and
prepositions are a word class used together with a noun or NP (e.g. Hartmann &
Stork 1972). Thus, the class of adverbs in Finnish is made up of a heterogenous
set of forms that modify a verb or an adjective: Karlsson (1983b: 184-186), for
example, includes adverbs like hitaasti ‘slowly’ that end in -sti and have compar-
ative and superlative forms (hitaammin, hitaimmin) and focus particles (see
7.2.3) like aika ‘quite, rather’ and juuri ‘just’ as well as a number of words that I
refer to as p-positions without a modifier.
If, on the other hand, one takes the view that grammatical categories are
abstractions based on the interrelations and oppositions within a language (see
2.2.4), then there is nothing anomalous about referring to a p-position without a
modifier. A p-position is not an Indo-European preposition that can also come
after the modifying word; it constitutes a class of words in Finnish that can be
defined by certain formal and functional characteristics, and this word class con-
trasts, for example, with bound morphemes such as -ssa/ssä (e.g. talossa in the
house) and adverbs that end in -sti like hitaasti ‘slowly’. I shall take up the issue
of p-positions without modifiers again later on in this section.
lish (the front of/the side of the house), which can function as complex preposi-
tions (in the front of/by the side of the house). This is obviously a reflection of
the nominal origin of many p-positions in Finnish. However, as the term Facet is
rather too concrete for many of the temporal and other non-spatial uses of p-posi-
tions, I use the term Orientation, in other words, a p-position expresses orienta-
tion towards an Entity, e.g. a physical object or a temporal event. The label Orien-
tation is based on Leino’s (1990: 133 ff.) analysis of p-positions in Finnish. Leino
employs concepts from Cognitive Grammar in his analysis. He shows how loca-
tive case-endings express spatial relations in “basic physical space”; whereas
p-positions express relations in “oriented physical space”.
With NPs in Finnish, the Entity and the Head are generally conflated;
whereas in PPs the nominal in the genitive/partitive is the Entity, and the most
salient from an experiential semantic perspective, but it is the p-position that is
the Head.
This last example (28) can be given a clause context such as the following: Vanki
juoksi noiden talojen taakse ‘The prisoner ran behind those houses’. The p-posi-
tion taakse ‘(to) behind’ has a translative ending (in this instance, an archaic -kse
and not -ksi), which expresses what in Finnish is a basic location or direction (‘to
inside (something)’). However, the destination is an abstract physical space (‘be-
hind/at the back of’), which is oriented towards something else, i.e. nuo talot
‘those houses’.
129
(29) [ ) Minä näin uunien luota kun raahasit Jylhän tänne. Huomasiko Taavetti?
‘From beside the furnaces I could see you dragging Jylhä here. Did Taavetti notice
anything?’
) Ei.
‘No.’]
This example is from a novel. It is clear from the co-text that Salin went to the
back of the storeroom where Jylhä had been taken.
As pointed out above, p-positions used alone are common in Finnish, but
they have been classed as adverbs. Thus ennen ‘before’ is classed by Nykysuo-
men sanakirja (Contemporary Finnish Dictionary) as an adverb in the context
Oli ennen ukko ja akka [was before old-man and old-woman] ‘There once was an
old man and an old woman’ but as a preposition in ennen joulua ‘before Christ-
mas’. Similarly takana ‘(at) behind/at the back of’ and edessä ‘before/in front of’
are classed as a postpositions in 30a, but are adverbs in 30b:
130
(30) “POSTPOSITION”:
“ADVERB”:
ample obviously refers to an episode from the first novel written in Finnish
Seitsemän veljestä ‘The Seven Brothers’).
An in-depth analysis of VPs in Finnish is beyond the scope of this thesis: accord-
ing to Karlsson (1983c: 357), for example, a verb that has a regular inflection in
Finnish can have 528 finite forms. Much of the structure of the VP in Finnish is
realized in bound morphemes. From the point of view of the functional analysis
of the clause that is presented in subsequent chapters, suffice to say that a verb
phrase (VP) functions as the process in a clause. It is either a single word, a verb,
or it is expanded phrase that functions in the clause in the same way as a verb. A
VP can be illustrated by the following example:
132
According to Karlsson (ibid.), a verb with a regular inflection also has 324
infinitive forms and 11 000 participial forms. The vast majority of these forms do
not function in the structure of the VP but function like ordinary nominals (see
3.3.3, p. 84 ff.).
1
In Finnish, this means that it is not inflected in one of the grammatical cases (see Chapter
3). There is a problem in Finnish, however, with what I refer to as the (spatial or temporal)
Extent of the process (see 6.5 and 6.8), which is case-marked like an inherent role or
participant but functions more like a Circumstance.
134
kotona ‘at home’, kotiin ‘[to] home’, and kotoa ‘from home’;
ulkona ‘outside’, ulos ‘out, [to] outside’, ulkoa ‘from outside’;
alhaalla ‘down, below’, alhaalle ‘[to] down, below’, alhaalta ‘from down, below’;
täällä ‘here’, täältä ‘(from) here’ tänne ‘[to] here’;
tuolla ‘there’, tuonne ‘[to] there’ tuolta ‘(from) there’;
siellä ‘there (unspecified place; place beyond view)’, sinne ‘[to] there’, sieltä ‘(from) there’
kaikkialla ‘everywhere’, kaikkialle ‘[to] everywhere’, kaikkialta ‘from everywhere’
As suggested in 4.4.2 above, the forms above seem to have been classified
as adverbs because p-positions in Finnish have been related to prepositions in
Indo-European languages. If, on the other hand, we define p-positions language
internally as (fossilized) nominal forms with limited case-inflection which, in
concrete instances at least, locate something in physical space relative to some-
thing else, then it seems more feasible to regard these as p-positions in which the
reference point is not explicated since it is taken for granted that it is interpret-
able. Thus, it would be highly unlikely that most of the words listed above could
ever occur with a genitive or partitive Modifier: e.g. *talon ulkona [house+GEN
outside], *kaupungin kaikkialla [town+GEN everywhere].
In other words, what I am proposing is that the “adverbs” listed above are a
subclass of p-positions not a subclass of adverbs. It also seems to me that other
1
Both modified and unmodified p-positions could be anchored by NP functioning as a
Circumstance of Place e.g. kaupungissa ‘in (the) town’, but this is irrelevant to the point
being made here.
136
The discussion above does not pertain to ordinary NPs like alapuoli ‘lower
~ under side’ that have a similar directional meaning when they are inflected e.g.
alapuolella. These are generally not classified as adverbs but as nominals. They
can occur with a genitive modifier kosken alapuolella ‘(in the area) below the
falls’. They can also occur without a modifier, if so the modifier is a deictic centre
in the situation that is not realized in the linguistic structure: alapuolella ‘(in the
area) below (someone ~ something)’. On the other hand, the distinction between
this kind of nominal and a postposition is not a clear-cut one. This seems to be a
reflection of the fact that, as pointed out in 4.4.2, postpositions appear to have
developed from nominal forms.
137
A clause, like other units on the rank scale, can be expanded into a complex.
When clauses are combined into complexes, this is done in a meaningful way. As
Halliday (1985b: 82) points out, if something is “being represented as a complex
phenomenon, or as a set of interrelated phenomena”, then this relationship also
has to be brought out.
138
The examples above, were, in fact, parts of a larger complex. Both were part
of a larger set of interrelated phenomena. Clause boundaries are marked by dou-
ble slashes, as follows:
‘”Did you say that the name of his/her summer home is Leporello (Restarello)”, I
chortled.’
‘sure it could be awful but since I’ve been in such poor shape and not feeling well all sum-
mer, in fact, since spring, (so) I’ve got a few things there that have become a bit of a strain
for me.’
The notion of projection (which, for the moment can be seen as being more or
less equivalent to the notion of quoted and reported speech) as illustrated in ex-
ample 41 will be discussed in section 4.5.5 below, and relative clauses, as illus-
trated by the clause marked with square brackets in 42, will be discussed in sec-
tion 4.5.4. The following section will concentrate on the kind of interdependency
relations between the clauses marked by double slashes in example 42.
139
There are two notions needed in the analysis of complexing ) parataxis and hypo-
taxis. Parataxis refers to the linking of units of equal status at any rank, and hypo-
taxis refers to the linking of units of unequal status at any rank. As Martin (1988:
241) points out, the distinction between paratactic and hypotactic structures more
or less corresponds to Bloomfield’s (1933: 195) distinction between co-ordinative
and subordinative constructions, with the proviso that rankshifting or embedding
(to be discussed in 4.5.4) is distinct from subordination. As the Latin-based terms
co-ordination and subordination are more familiar than Halliday’s Greek-based
ones, they will be also be employed in this study. The Latin-based term “co-
ordinator” is used to refer to a conjunction in paratactic complex and the term
“subordinator” to one in a hypotactic complex. Numerals will be used to symbol-
ize co-ordination (1, 2, 3, ...), and Greek letters (", $, (, *, ...) for subordination.
Parataxis
(co-ordination) 1 initiating 2 continuing
Hypotaxis
(subordination) " dominant $ dependent
PARATAXIS (CO-ORDINATION)
HYPOTAXIS (SUBORDINATION)
In both parataxis and hypotaxis, one clause expands on another. For English,
at least, Halliday (1985a: 202 ff.) considers that there are three basic types of
expansion. Extension, where one clause is simply added to another, is symbol-
ized by a plus sign (1 +2, " + $). Elaboration, symbolized by an equals sign (1
=2, " = $), is a relationship between clauses in which one clause restates, exem-
plifies, specifies or describes another. With enhancement, one clause adds some
kind of circumstantial qualification to another; this is symbolized by a multiplica-
tion sign (1 x2, " x$). It is beyond the scope of this study to consider whether
these types of expansion are applicable in Finnish (see Kalliokoski 1989: 128 ff.
for a discussion with reference to Finnish ja ‘and’). What I would like to briefly
consider, however, are some of the grammatical reflexes of this basic distinction
between parataxis and hypotaxis.
The reason for this is not apparent, and the phenomena requires further research.
(For further examples and some discussion, see also Vilkuna 1989: 27).
The distinction between paratactic and hypotactic clauses ) like all gram-
matical distinctions ) is not a clear-cut one (see 2.4.12, p. 65), but can be seen in
terms of a continuum, with clauses in a hypotactic relationship sharing certain
features and clauses in a paratactic relationship sharing other features (cf. Kytö-
mäki 1985, who implicitly takes this approach in the analysis of sillä ‘for, as’ in
Finnish). However, in discussions of parataxis and hypotaxis (or co-ordination
and subordination) and of clause complexes in general, it is often assumed apriori
that certain conjunctions are paratactic and others are classed as hypotactic, and
no attempt is made to grammatically and semantically motivate the different ways
in which we can combine clauses. In what follows, an attempt is made to ground
the distinctions that are made on a consistent grammatical and semantic basis.
In parataxis, the order of the clauses cannot be changed; whereas this is (at
least hypothetically possible) in hypotaxis. Thus the clause that starts with a para-
tactic (co-ordinative) conjunction, i.e. a co-ordinator, such as ja ‘and’, mutta
‘but’, tai ‘or’, vai ‘or’ cannot be the initiating clause in a complex:
143
This is, of course, simply a grammatical reflex of the semantic relationship be-
tween the clauses: one is initiating and the other is continuing. It would be seman-
tically anomalous to make a continuing clause an initiating clause.
However, paratactic forms can also be cohesive (see Halliday & Hasan
(1976: Chapter 5) for a discussion of the cohesive relation of conjunction).
Thus, if one looks at spoken or written text, one is bound to find orthographic
sentences or turns in conversation that start with ja ‘and’, for example. A cohe-
sive ja does not link a clause to the following clause, but links what follows to the
previous text.1 The complexing discussed here is a different kind of phenomenon,
it is a structural relationship between clauses (though these structural relations
may also hold across turns in a conversation as illustrated by 43 above).
1
See Kytömäki 1985: 52 for a discussion and some examples of cohesive ja in Finnish and,
for example, Sorjonen & Heritage 1991 for a discussion of cohesive and in English in an
informal medical encounter, where it constructs an agenda-based nextness of a question. Cf.
Halliday & Hasan (1976: 236) “it [and] often links a series of questions, meaning “the next
thing I want to know is ... “.
144
(50) kun ne painaa yläluomen alaluomen päälle
‘as soon as they press their eye-lids together’
$ (dependent)
ne nukkuu
‘they fall asleep’
" (dominant)
In order to reverse the order of these clauses, we would have to omit the niin at
the beginning of the second clause:
The distinction between parataxis and hypotaxis that is being made here
does not distinguish between hypotaxis, where one clause is dependent on an-
other, i.e. the relationship is between clauses in a complex, and relativization
and embedding, which will be discussed in section 4.5.4. Before going on to dis-
cuss relativization, embedding and projection, however, I shall discuss the func-
tion of clause complexing with particular reference to spoken language, as it
sometimes seems to be assumed that clause complexing is more properly a feature
of written language.
Of course, much conversation is fragmentary, with speakers taking very short turns; and here
the potential for creating these dynamic patterns does not get fully exploited. But the differ-
ence is not so great as it might seem, because what happens in dialogue is that the speakers
share in the production of discourse; so that although the grammar does not show the paratac-
147
tic and hypotactic patterns of the clause complex in the way that these appear when the same
speaker holds the floor, some of the same semantic relations may be present across turns.
(Halliday 1985b: 87.)
While some clauses may be rather loosely combined into complexes in spoken
language, there is ample evidence of complexing in spoken Finnish.
The text in which this complex occurred was spoken quickly and without any
hesitation. While the example is complex, it has a characteristically spoken fla-
vour about it.
There is no doubt that complexes like this are an important resource in both
spoken and written language. This is not to deny, of course, that there are differ-
ences between spoken and written language (see Halliday 1985b, particularly 76-
148
The complex begins with a dependent clause (i), which is followed by the domi-
nant clause. However, this dominant clause contains the conjunction kun ‘when’,
which indicates that it, in turn, is part of a complex. Thus, the dominant clause is,
in fact, a complex. Clause (ii) is dependent on the following clause (iii). The into-
nation does not fall at the end of the third clause: the speaker goes straight on
without pausing to the last clause (iv). The last clause realizes the effect in a
cause $ effect relationship, and the cause is realized by the previous two clauses.
The fact that the effect is realized in two clause (ii ) iii) is evidenced by the into-
nation: clause ii realizes given information and the tonic syllable comes at the end
of iii. The conjunction et(tä) ‘so’ in this kind of context is a co-ordinator, since
the order of clauses (ii ) iii) and (iv) cannot be changed.
1
A possible exception to this is found in Finnish sayings and proverbs, where it is not unusual
for a relative clause to refer forward. The following example is from the Bible (Proverbs
26:27):
In other genres, it would be more natural to have the following word order: Se, joka kaivaa
kuopan, kaatuu siihen ‘He who digs a pit will fall into it’.
150
complexes. Firstly, I shall briefly consider clauses that are directly embedded and
then discuss the problem of relative clauses in Finnish. By directly embedding, I
refer to a clause that is rankshifted to function in the structure of another clause
without a nominal as an intermediary. The most common type of clause that is
directly embedded in Finnish is a non-finite clause. These non-finite embedded
clauses were discussed briefly in 4.4.1 above (p. 119 ff.). It seems to be less com-
mon for finite clauses to be directly embedded in a host clause in Finnish. A like-
ly environment for this kind of embedding is a relational clause, as illustrated by
the following example, where the embedded clause is in fact a rather long clause
complex, which is italicized in the example:
(57) “Hyvä esimerkki suomalaisesta heinäkenkäasenteesta oli, kun oltiin joskus Valkeassa
festivaaleilla, ja Ian Gillan tuli meidän bussiin, nappas Herba-pullon, joi ja sanoi, että
fantastic. Me luultiin, että se tarkoitti bändiä, mutta se tarkoittikin sitä viinaa”, Sakke kertoo.
[HS 5.11.91: D10]
“A good example of a Finnish bumpkin attitude was when we were once at a festival in
Valkea and Ian Gillan came into our bus, grabbed a bottle of Herba, drank from it and said
‘fantastic’. We thought he was referring to the band, but it was the liquor that he was referring
to”, said Sakke.
From the point of view of traditional grammar, the embedded complex is the
complement of the host clause. From a functional perspective (see Chapter 6), the
embedded complex can be regarded as the Identified in a relational process.
‘Many who sincerely regard themselves as animal lovers shy away from cats because of
their supposed predatory nature.’
In this example the relative clause beginning with an inflected form of joka ‘who,
which’ functions as part of an NP, which is the subject of the clause. This differs
from the hypotactic (subordinative) complex illustrated in the previous section: in
a hypotactic complex the relationship is at the rank of clause and this is reflected
in the fact that the order of the clauses can be changed.
The example above (58) looks like an English defining or restrictive relative
clause. While there are clauses, like the one illustrated above, that can be trans-
lated by a defining clause in English, there are also clauses, such as the following,
that can be translated by a non-defining clause in English.
‘After all even the Seven Brothers1 had their own trick-performing cat called Matti, who
had a secure position in the family circle.’
1
The reference is to the first novel written in Finnish: Seitsemän veljestä (The Seven
Brothers) by Aleksis Kivi.
152
‘I loathe feminism (that is) based on Derrida or Lacan (~ I loathe feminism, which is based
on Derrida or Lacan.)’
1
It may be necessary to point out to a Finnish reader that the use of commas to mark off a
relative clause in English is a meaningful option that reflects intonational differences between
defining and non-defining relative clauses: (a) Pilots whose minds are dull do not live long =/
(b) Pilots, whose minds are dull, do not live long. According to clause a, only certain pilots
do not live long, namely those who are not always on the alert. According to clause b, pilots
can be characterized by the fact that they have dull minds.
153
In this sense, relative clauses in Finnish are embedded: the link between the
clauses is not at the rank of clause, but at the rank of phrase.
matkustanu â [CA3:3]
travel+PTC
Û jota se pompotti. â
which+PAR he-NOM palpitate/bounce+PAS/3SG
‘which he bounced’
As illustrated in this example, and in all of the examples quoted by Helasvuo, the
relative pronoun joka consistently inflects for number and case. Moreover, a time
affix can also be attached to it: jolloin ‘when (at the time when)’.1 This is, of
1
Cf. milloin ‘when’, which is an interrogative, and silloin ‘when’ (from se ‘it, that’), which
functions as a conjunctive (discourse) adjunct.
155
course, clear evidence that the link between the clauses is not at the rank of
clause, but at the rank of phrase.
‘Apparently men are so fortunate that they fall asleep as soon as they press their eye-lids
together.’
The clause beginning with et ‘that’ expands on the NP niin onnellisia ‘so
happy’.1
1
In fact, onnellinen ‘happy’ in Finnish is an adjective, but as pointed out in the section on
NPs, Adjectival Phrases are considered to be a subtype of NP.
156
mul. on sellane
I+(ADE) be+3SG the kind-NOM
‘I’ve got the kind (that) you can open with a key.’
‘The reason for having friends is that you can ask them for help.’
läänistä ... â
province+ELA [HKV]
‘Hannus ended up supporting Sigfrid because he was from the province of Vaasa ...’
‘It’s incredible that in the opinion of some people the only real cat is a tomcat who has
been toughened in fights and whose ears are in shreds and for this reason they stub-
bornly refuse to have it neutered.’
This analysis may not appear to be very satisfying from a textual perspective, but
this is not a problem since, in an SF approach, different kinds of structure contrib-
ute to the total meaning. Clauses like this will be discussed from a textual per-
spective in Chapter 7.
However, there are also many instances without a pronoun in spoken Finnish.
(70) [Esahan on sen kerran tehny onnellisena -- nukkunu lentokoneen lähdön ohi --
‘Esa has done it once blissfully .. slept through the departure of his plane’]
‘The situation was such that Esa first said that since we’d been asked to visit someone in
the evening and it’s so early that perhaps he wouldn’t go but then he said “what the heck!
I’m sure to wake up”.’
‘They’ve got a kind of system like this whereby if you’re in the music teacher stream then
you’ve got to stay put, they don’t like to let go of people ..’
In the first example the embedded complex expands on semmonen tilanne ‘such
a situation’ and in the second example there is an embedded complex expanding
on joku tämmönen systeemi ‘a kind of system like this’.
In this section, I have concentrated on joka and että. There are, of course,
other conjunctions and relative pronouns that figure in embedding, as illustrated
by kun ‘when’ and mitä ‘which, what’ in the following examples:
159
(72) mullaki on se
I+AD E+TIS be+3SG it/that-NOM
‘I’ve got that habit/characteristic too that I’m generally start being alert at the stage when
one/you should be going to sleep.’
‘The question of the status of philosophy as a science is naturally relative to the way in
which we define science.’
The analysis of these other relative pronouns and conjunctions that figure in em-
bedding needs to be incorporated into an analysis of embedded complexes in
Finnish. The analysis here also needs to be supplemented with an analysis of co-
hesive relations in Finnish so that examples such as those illustrated in 65 ) 67
are analysed from the perspective of the cohesive relations in a text.
4.5.5. Projection
As is obvious from this example, the conjunction et(tä) is not necessarily the
mark of “indirect speech” in Finnish. In a projecting complex, että means some-
thing like “thus, in this way, like so” (see Kuiri 1984: 136 ff.). While examples
like 74 above are typical of spoken Finnish, one is unlikely to come across an
example like this in traditional descriptions of Finnish grammar: the analysis of
projection in Finnish is complicated by the fact that there is a distinction between
“direct and indirect speech” in standardized written Finnish that does not accord
with the way in which clauses are projected in unselfconscious, spoken Finnish.
As Kuiri (1984: 3 ff.) points out, the distinction between direct and indirect
speech has come from Latin-based models of grammar. Thus, in this received
view, the first example below illustrates direct speech and the second example
indirect speech:
161
In spite of the conjunction, in both of these examples the projected clause could
stand alone: millä sä kuljet töihin ‘how do you get to work?’, älä välitä ‘don’t
worry’.
162
In what Halliday calls an idea, the projecting clause is a mental process (e.g.
tietää ‘know’), i.e. a process of internal human consciousness:
‘She planned to take her things with her and come here directly.’
‘He confessed that he had drunk half a bottle of whisky before that [giving a paper].’
As illustrated by this example, the deictic elements in a report shift from reference
to the speech situation: personal pronouns, demonstratives and tenses change.
The choice of the verb in this example is clearly significant: tunnustaa ‘confess’
rather than sanoa ‘say’ or kysyä ‘ask’. The verb chosen by the speaker indicates
an interpretation by the speaker; she has interpreted what was said as a confes-
sion. Thus, it would be somewhat anomalous for the projected clause to be real-
ized as a quote. Of course, even with verbal processes like tunnustaa ‘confess’ or
myöntää ‘admit’, which explicitly indicate an interpretation of a saying, a quote
is possible. However, it seems to me that a quote would be more typical of a liter-
ary style.
As pointed out above, however, the distinction between quoted and reported
locutions (sayings) in Finnish is complicated by the fact that the distinction in
standardized written Finnish is based on Latinate models. This does not, however,
affect the fact that it is possible to distinguish between a quoted and a reported
locution in Finnish. However, while it can be argued that the distinction between
a quote and a report is relevant for locutions, as indicated above, this does not
imply that there is a simplistic (“transformational”) relationship between them,
i.e. that quotes and reports are interchangeable. On the other hand, when the pro-
jected clause is an idea (i.e. the projecting clause realizes a mental process), it
seems more natural for it to be a report. However, quotes are also possible: they
164
(86) – Saapa nähdä tapahtuuko nyt jotain erikoista, Muumipeikko ajatteli. [TH: 119]
“I wonder if something unusual is about to happen”, thought Moomin Troll.
(87) [siellä oli yks semmone japanilainen poika -- sil oli hirmu siistit vaatteet semmone ihana
nahkatakki oikeen rahakkaan näkönen kello se oli ihan ku kultane
‘there was a sort of Japanese boy there ... he had really neat clothes, a sort of marvellous
leather jacket ) a really expensive looking watch, it was really like made of gold’]
on varakkaita [CA2:21]
be+3SG rich+PL+PAR
The use of quotes in examples like this gives a dramatic flavour to a narrative
episode. This reinforces Halliday’s (1985a: 233) point that quoting and reporting
are not simply formal variants; they differ in meaning. According to Halliday,
quoting “is more immediate and lifelike, and this effect is enhanced by the orien-
tation of the deixis, which is that of drama not that of narrative”.
165
Projected clauses (both locutions and ideas) can also be embedded. In in-
stances of embedding, the embedded projection is linked to the host clause by a
nominal that is a label for a metaphenomenon (e.g. väite ‘claim’, tosiasia ‘fact’,
ajatus ‘thought’, etc.), as illustrated by the following example:
‘The claim/allegation that a cat gets attached to a place and not to people is true if ...’ (see
Appendix 1).
the clauses can be changed, whereas with a reported locution or idea the project-
ing clause always precedes the projected clause. Another distinguishing factor is
that the projecting clause can be omitted in a quoted locution in spoken Finnish.
In these instances, the quote is indicated by a change in voice quality. This is not
possible with paratactic expansion. A feature, which applies to Finnish but not to
English, is the availability of mood options in the projected clause. A projected
interrogative remains in the interrogative form in both quotes and reports in Finn-
ish. With hypotaxis, on the other hand, the dependent clause cannot be in the
interrogative.
For if we cannot say at what precise moment day becomes night does that mean we don’t
know day from night?
A similar and more appropriate analogy relates to a social rather than a natural
phenomenon: although we may not be able to precisely define the cut-off point
between being rich and being poor, this does not mean that there is no distinction
between the rich and the poor in the world today. 1
1
This analogy was used by Esa Itkonen in a lecture given at the University of Helsinki.
167
Chapter 5
Interactional Structure in the Finnish Clause
1
The terms modalization and modulation can be seen as being roughly equivalent to the
logically based notions of epistemic and deontic modality.
168
When speakers (or writers) refer to what someone has said (or written), they often
explicitly assess the function of the utterance in the context in which it occurred,
i.e. its rhetorical function (Halliday 1985a: 342). A rhetorical function can be
realized either as a noun (e.g. we can recognize something that someone has said
as “a threat” or “a promise”) or as a verb (e.g. “X threatened Y” or “X promised
to do something”). Nouns and verbs such as (to) threat and (to) promise are,
thus, used to construe verbal (or linguistic) processes or acts. In any language,
there are countless rhetorical functions that speakers of the language recognize.
Halliday (1985a: 342) lists over 60 such functions for English, functions such as
offering, promising, threatening, vowing, undertaking, ordering, requesting, en-
treating, urging, persuading, commanding, instructing ... and adds the proviso that
he has listed just a few. Austin (1962: 150) claimed that there were well over a
thousand expressions like this in English.1
1
The notion of a rhetorical function can obviously be linked to the logico-philosophical
notion of a speech act, as discussed for example, in philosophical discourse by Austin (1962)
and Searle (1969) and, from a linguistic perspective, by Levinson (1983), and to the notion
of a “speech act verb”, as discussed by philosophically oriented linguists (e.g. Verschueren
1980, Wierzbicka 1987).
169
väittää ‘(to) claim’, huomauttaa ‘(to) point out/remind’, vastata ‘reply’, valittaa ‘com-
plain’, kannella ‘complain (to a higher authority)’, tokaista ‘to speak out brusquely/snap’,
tarjota ‘(to) offer’, tyrkyttää ‘force something upon someone’, käskeä ‘command/order/tell
someone to do something’, määrätä ‘command/order (often given by an official body)’,
painostaa ‘force/pressurize’, pakottaa ‘force (someone to do something)’, pyytää ‘request’,
vaatia ‘demand’, luvata ‘promise’, vannoa ‘swear’, sitoutua ‘undertake/bind oneself’,
haukkua ‘speak negatively about someone/abuse’, herjata ‘abuse/insult’, moittia ‘blame’,
syyttää ‘accuse’, paheksua ‘disapprove of’, arvostella ‘criticize’, pilkata ‘make fun of’,
uhata ‘threaten’, leuhkia ‘boast’, ilmoittaa ‘announce’, julistaa ‘proclaim’, paljastaa ‘re-
veal’, vakuuttaa ‘assure’, inttää ‘insistently assert or raise objections’, kysyä ‘ask’, udella
‘ask (pryingly)’, etc. etc.
1
The translations are very approximate, focusing on one or two of what I consider to be the
most central uses. The fact that I have given a translation does not imply that there is a one-
to-one correspondence between rhetorical functions in English and Finnish or that the set of
rhetorical functions are universal.
170
DECLARATIVE:
1
Given that there are likely to be well over a thousand rhetorical functions in Finnish, it
seems to me that the functions that we might want to recognize depends on the type of data
that we have and the purpose for which the analysis is being proposed. Another problem is
that a rhetorical function is a textual phenomenon, and, as such, it is embedded in the flux
of “social heteroglossia” (Bakhtin 1981: 263). Thus, the interpretation of a rhetorical function
is variable: what one person regards as questioning, for example, could be interpreted by
another as prying.
171
INTERROGATIVE:
IMPERATIVE:
1
I have translated the Finnish imperative with an interrogative in English. An imperative with
high clause-initial pitch is not blunt or impolite in Finnish. See also Shore (1991b: 244 ff.).
172
(13) Ota kakkua.
take+2SG/IMP cake+PAR
‘(Do) have some cake.’
(14) Sano sitten Pekalle terveisiä. [Tel3: 13]
say+2SG then Pekka+ALL regards+PL+PAR
‘(Please) give my regards to Pekka then/Say hello to Pekka for me then, won’t you?’
(15) Ole hyvin peloissasi. [Ad1 (advertisement for
Be+2SG/IMP very afraid+PL+INE+POS/2SG. Kärpänen II (The Fly II)]
‘Be very afraid.’
(16) Puhuttakoon mitä puhutaan. [Leskinen 1970: 71-72]
speak+INDE+IMP which/what+PAR speak+INDE
‘Let them/people say what they like.’
(17) Älköön kukaan julkisesti käyttäytymisellään
NEG /IMP+IMP/3 anyone/no-one publicly behaviour+ADE+POS/3
häiritkö yleistä järjestystä tai loukatko säädyllisyyttä.
disturb+IMP general order/peace or offend+IMP propriety/decency
‘Let no-one behave publicly in such a way as to disturb the public peace or offend the
proprieties.’ [Helsinki City Ordinance 3 §]
Even on the basis of these examples removed from their context, we could recog-
nize an array of rhetorical functions that may have been realized in the original
text. From a grammatical perspective, however, we can distinguish only three
mood options. This chapter is concerned with the meaning of these mood options
in Finnish.
On the basis of these parameters, Halliday defines four primary speech func-
tions: STATEMENT, QUESTION , OFFER and COMMAND :
[Ossi is having an affair with Suvi; he is waiting for her in her flat.]
Ossi istui koko illan tuijottamassa televisiota. Tunnelmat vaihtuivat tunneittain, hän vihasi ja
pelkäsi vuoron perään. Eniten hän pelkäsi sitä että Suvi toisi jonkin kaverin mukanaan ...
‘Ossi sat all evening with his eyes glued to the television. His feelings changed by the hour,
he felt anger and fear by turns. Most of all he was frightened that Suvi would bring someone
else home ...’
174
– Sulla on toinen.
‘You’ve got someone else/another (lover).’
– Ei ole.
‘No I haven’t.’
– Varmasti on.
‘You must have.’
The clause sulla on toinen ‘you’ve got another (lover)’ has the speech function
STATEMENT, not because it functions rhetorically as a statement, but because
what is being exchanged is linguistic and the initiator’s role is that of giver.
In order to consider the grammatical system, Halliday then looks at the rele-
vant grammatical options available in a particular language, which, in Halliday’s
analysis, is English. According to Halliday, the grammatical options in English
can be represented by the following (very basic and simplified) mood network:1
A similar network could be drawn for the basic mood options in Finnish. As men-
tioned in 4.2, minor clauses are those in which mood options are not available.
1
In the original diagram, Halliday locates ellipsis in the mood network. Although ellipsis may
be regarded as textual, it is apparently included in mood because the potential for ellipsis has
to be specified interpersonally (Martin 1981: 55). However, this part of the network need not
concern us here.
175
Thus, for Halliday, the semantic level, which is analysed from an interac-
tional perspective in terms of the abstract speech functions defined above, acts as
an interface between the context and the lexicogrammatical form of a language.
The downward pointing arrow in the following diagram is the symbol for realiza-
tion in systemic-functional theory. In the light of what was said above, a more
appropriate symbol would be a double-headed arrow (à), as pointed out in 2.4.3
(p. 44).
One of the problems inherent in this model is the mismatch between the
situationally defined semantic notions (or contextual semantic notions) and the
176
mood options in English. In order to bridge the gap, Halliday invokes the notion
of “congruency” (to be discussed in the next section).
The SF notion of a speech function should not be equated with the tradi-
tional notion of a speech function found in some grammar books (e.g. Hakulinen
and Karlsson 1979: 276-293). Traditional notions such as statement, question,
command and exclamation are semantic relabellings of grammatical categories
and are not explicitly intended to make a link with (abstractions from) interaction-
al options in the context of situation. On the other hand, Halliday’s speech func-
tion should not be confused with the way in which the notion is used in discourse
analysis. It is not a discourse notion, but a grammatical notion. A. Hakulinen (A.
Hakulinen ed. 1989: 45-46), for example, has obviously misunderstood these
speech functions to be rhetorical functions; she makes no mention of the rhetori-
cal functions listed by Halliday in the chapter concerned with phenomena that are
“beyond the clause” (1985a: 342). She criticizes Halliday for postulating the four
primary speech functions “with little or no empirical evidence”. The grammatical
evidence on which Halliday’s analysis is based are the grammatical categories
declarative, interrogative and imperative, which are also assumed in
ethnomethodological conversation analysis (see list in 1.5, p. 10). Hakulinen,
however, seems to assume that Halliday’s An Introduction to Functional Gram-
mar is discourse analysis not grammar: she says Hallidayn ongelma on kaikille
diskurssintutkijoille yhteinen ‘Halliday’s problem is common to all discourse
analysts’. Hakulinen’s criticism is ironic in that it is concerned with “precon-
ceived categories”, yet she criticizes Halliday on the basis of her own precon-
ceived categories (cf. the discussion of explicit and implicit assumptions in sec-
tion 1.5).
As can be seen from the above, Halliday’s model reflects most appropriately
face-to-face interaction, which can be regarded as the paradigm case of linguistic
interaction. This view is shared by other linguists (including Lyons 1977a: 589ff,
Fillmore 1981: 152, Levinson 1983: 54). For example, according to Fillmore:
177
The language of face-to-face conversation is the basic and primary use of language, all others
being best described in terms of their manner of deviation from that base.
However, Halliday’s model possibly goes a step further: the basic and primary
use of language is not simply face-to-face conversation, which, after all is primar-
ily concerned with the exchange of language (i.e. language is constitutive). The
basic and primary use of language, as reflected in Halliday’s model, is face-to-
face language-in-action: for example, the ordinary everyday exchanges of lan-
guage, action and goods-&-services that take place in the home or in the play-
ground or when people are shopping or working.
Halliday relates the speech functions defined above to the grammatical options of
English by postulating what he refers to as a congruent relationship between
them. A congruent realization relationship is sometimes seen in terms of typical-
ity (e.g. Halliday 1984: 14; Halliday 1985a: 320; cf. below however): a STATE-
statement declarative
question interrogative
command imperative
offer —
It seems to me, however, that congruency cannot not be equated with typi-
cality. According to Berry (1987: 58-59), typicality can be understood either 1) as
a statistical norm or 2) as what is perceived as being typical by speakers of a lan-
178
guage. As Halliday (1984: 14) himself suggests, it is not entirely self-evident that
asking someone to do or get something for you is typically realized as an impera-
tive in English. (See also Levinson 1983: 264,275.) It also seems questionable to
equate congruency with typicality in the sense of what is perceived as being typi-
cal by language users. If one were to ask a speaker of English to consider a situa-
tion in which she or he were trying to get someone else to do something such as
close a door or window (i.e. demand goods-&-services), then it is unlikely that
she or he would suggest an imperative. It seems to me that, in the majority of
instances, 2. person imperatives realizing the option [demand: goods-&-services]
tend1 to be used in English if the speaker is in a position of power (e.g. parent or
teacher to child, sergeant to private). Exceptions to this include certain anony-
mous written genres (such as operating instructions and recipe books), certain
requests for a linguistic action e.g. Give my love to Nigel, and actions that are
regarded as benefiting the addressee e.g. Take a holiday.
1
See 2.3.4 and 2.4.12.
2
As Halliday (1985a: 329-30) points out, however, “the concept of plain and simple is very
far from being plain and simple”.
179
Crucial to Halliday’s analysis of mood is the idea that the notion of meta-
phor can also be extended to grammatical phenomena, (see 2.4.7 (p. 54), 2.4.13
(p. 67); Halliday 1985a: 319-345, Ravelli 1988).1 As Halliday (1985a: 320-321)
points out, the term metaphor is usually used to refer to the “non-literal” use of
words: a word is said to be used with transferred meaning, e.g. flood in the fol-
lowing example:
(20) A lot of people wrote in and protested after they had heard the announcement.
1
See Karvonen (1991, 1992) for a discussion of grammatical metaphor in Finnish and its
application in the analysis of text.
2
Cf. however quote from Halliday (1985a: 321) on page 181 below.
180
Both examples express more or less the same meaning, i.e. they are both requests
for a loan. The meaning is not, of course, exactly the same, but we can recognize
that one is a variation of the other. The request is realized in the simplest possible
way in example 21: it is realized congruently as an imperative.2 In example 22,
on the other hand, the meaning is expressed in a different way: here the request
for a loan is realized metaphorically as an interrogative.
1
The person addressed is about to withdraw some money from an automatic teller. The unit
referred to is 100 marks (approx. $30 Australian).
2
It can, of course, be even more simply realized in a minor clause, as, for example, in a bank
robbery in Finnish: rahat tänne [money+NOM/PL here] cf. “your money or your life”.
181
(23) – onks Pekka kotona
be+3SG+Q Pekka-NOM home+ESS
‘Is Pekka at home?’
– joo hetkinen
yes moment
‘Yes just a moment.’
Thus, something can be congruent and metaphorical at the same time, i.e., as
Levinson (1983: 269) puts it: “both readings are simultaneously available and
utilized”.
For any given semantic configuration there is (at least) one congruent realization in the
lexicogrammar. There may be others that are in some respect transferred, or METAPHORICAL.
This is not to say that the congruent realization is better, or that it is more frequent, or even
that it functions as a norm; there are many instances where a metaphorical representation has
become the norm, and this is in fact a natural process of linguistic change. Nor is it to suggest
that a set of variants of this kind will be totally synonymous; the selection of metaphor is
itself a meaningful choice, and the particular metaphor selected adds further semantic fea-
tures. But they will be systematically related in meaning, and therefore synonymous in certain
respects.
182
This was addressed by a parent to an unruly child in a tube train. I have also heard
a parent say the following in a similar situation:
atic in that they are susceptible to variable interpretation,1 so too is the notion of
a hedge. At least, a systemic-functional approach is an attempt to ground the in-
terpretation of congruency and metaphor in an explicit and linguistically moti-
vated way.
As mentioned earlier, it seems to me that there are some problems with Halliday’s
analysis. The problems are connected with the postulation of the speech function
OFFER. Halliday (1985a: 342) regards a threat such as I’ll shoot the pianist as an
OFFER, i.e. as the giving of goods-&-services. It is not entirely clear to me that a
clause that functions rhetorically as a threat actually involves any exchange of
goods-&-services.
1
As pointed out in Chapter 1, Bakhtin’s (1981: 263) notion of “social heteroglossia” pertains
not only to the phenomenon being observed, i.e. language, but also to the observer, the
linguist.
184
as a fringe category. In fact, a “verb form ... that is only minimally distinguished”
could be regarded as the most basic and fundamental verb category. A 2. person
singular imperative, for example, is morphologically the simplest verb form in
both Finnish and English; it is also amongst the first verb forms learnt by a child
(Toivainen 1980: 32). In contrast to English, however, verbs in both standardized
Finnish and in all Finnish dialects are inflected for person and number in the im-
perative (see figures 3-4 (p. 80) and 3-5 (p. 81) in Chapter 3).
The examples of the imperative quoted earlier (page 171) and the following
examples illustrate some of the uses of the imperative in Finnish:
‘Be afraid in peace! Want more! Show your feelings! Laugh more!’
1
This example and example 15 on p. 172 (Ole hyvin peloissasi ‘Be very afraid’), which also
has an imperative form of olla ‘be’, may be considered strange by some speakers of Finnish.
They are all, nevertheless, authentic examples; and, if the imperative in Finnish is interpreted
“orientation to a non-linguistic (action) response”, as I shall suggest, then there is nothing odd
about these examples.
185
(30) I was wearing very high heeled shoes. He said take them off.1
(31) Take a look at this.
The alternative analysis that will be proposed in the next section departs
from Halliday’s analysis in that the distinction between giving and demanding is
not applied in the case of goods-&-services. This analysis of Finnish is similar to
both Fawcett’s (1980: 104 ff.) and Butler’s (1988) analysis of English. Butler
(1988: 150), for example, refers to “action-seeking acts”. Counter-arguments to
this re-analysis will be discussed in the next section. Before addressing these,
however, I shall look at another related problem with Halliday’s analysis. The
other problem with Halliday’s analysis of mood is connected with the function
Subject in an OFFER. According to Halliday, the grammatical subject in English
realizes an interpersonal function. Because the traditional definition of grammati-
cal subject (number and person agreement with the finite verb) is of limited appli-
cability in English, Halliday (1985a: 71-73) regards the subject in English as the
element that is picked up if a tag is added to a clause: you won’t give it away,
will you? In Halliday’s view, the grammatical subject in English is a meaningful
category, not simply an empty “surface” phenomena.
1
The example is from Edna O’Brien, Johnny I Hardly Knew You (Weidenfield & Nicolson,
London, 1977) p. 21.
186
The Subject is a function in the clause as an exchange. It is the element that is held responsi-
ble: in which is vested the success of the clause whatever its particular speech function.
(Halliday 1985a: 36-37.)1
The problematic status of OFFER can be illustrated by the fact that in some offers
the entity actually responsible for carrying out the offer is not always the same as
the one picked up in the tag. For example, there are various grammatical realiza-
tions of offering someone a drink in English. These include:
1
In Halliday’s discussion of English, he uses Subject (with a capital letter) to refer to both
the element that is picked up in the tag and the function that it realizes. I prefer to make a
distinction between the formal category (subject) and the functional category (Subject). The
reason for this is that Halliday’s (1985a) description is of English, a language in which it can
be argued that the grammatical subject realizes an interactional function. The notion of a
grammatical subject has also been applied to languages that do not have a mood tag, for
example, Finnish, where there is an element in the nominative case that agrees with the verb
in person and number. As argued in Chapter 6, this element realizes an experiential function
in Finnish. It is also conceivable that what has been referred to as the subject in other
languages does not realize an interactional function.
187
While in many of the examples the acceptability of a mood tag is debatable ) the
only example that I feel completely confident about adding a mood tag to is the
first one ) it is quite clear that to the extent that it is acceptable, it does not pick
up the speaker (I) in most of the instances above. Presumably, as Halliday (1985a:
76) puts it, “the one that is actually responsible for realizing (i.e. in this case, for
carrying out) the offer” is the same in all cases: the person who is doing the offer-
ing.
The reason why offers are not grammatically coded is obvious: as pointed
out above, while the exchange of information necessarily involves language (or
some other semiotic system), many exchanges of goods-&-services can occur
without language, particularly the giving of goods-&-services: you can give
someone a kiss or a flower without saying anything. As Halliday points out
(1984: 11-12), if language is used in the exchange of goods-&-services, then its
role is often ancillary and two distinct processes occur, i.e. 1) the exchange of
language and 2) the exchange of goods-&-services.
English and Finnish are not unusual in not having a congruent way of realiz-
ing an offer, there appears to be no language in which an offer is congruently
encoded. The appeal of the category seems to stem from the fact that it fits nicely
in the symmetrical analysis postulated by Halliday (see e.g. Martin 1981:60). The
variables postulated by Halliday (give/demand; language/goods-&-services) may
in fact be facets of a European way of viewing information. It was mentioned
earlier that in Gooniyandi (McGregor 1990a: 382-83), there are no formal distinc-
tions in the clause that can be related to the parameters giving vs. demanding and
information vs. goods-&-services, i.e. there are no mood distinctions in Gooni-
yandi corresponding to the distinction between declarative and interrogative or
between indicative and imperative. McGregor suggests that this may be a reflex
of the different way in which Aboriginal societies view (linguistic) interaction
(see also Eades 1982).
ORIENTATION
LIN GUISTIC ACTION
GIVE statement
proposal
DEMAND question
The first example is a modalized statement and the second a modulated command
(i.e. demand for goods-&-services). However, there is nothing in Halliday’s anal-
ysis which gives support to an independent speech function of “offer”. The differ-
1
The distinction between modalization and modulation is comparable to the distinction
between epistemic and deontic modality made in philosophical semantics, except that
assessments of usuality or frequency (e.g. Mary usually knows the answer) are included under
modalization and assessments of inclination (e.g. I felt like going) under modulation.
However, SF theory is not based on truth-conditional semantics, and, thus, modality and
modulation refer to the semantic space between positive (“yes”, “it is so”, “do it”) and
negative (“no”, “it isn’t so”, “don’t do it”). See further, Halliday 1985a: 85 ff., 324 ff.;
Halliday in Kress (ed.) 1976: 189 ff.
190
1
Finnish: sävy.
2
The only research that has been done on the tone system of Finnish is Hirvonen (1970).
Unlike Halliday (1967c), however, Hirvonen does not base his analysis on naturally occurring
conversation but on constructed dialogues read by informants. Hirvonen’s analysis focuses
on the unmarked tones of mood options in Finnish (cf. Halliday 1985a: 284).
192
Whether examples like this are indicative of stable variation or whether they are
indicative of language change remains to be seen. While the patterning here is
similar to an English or Swedish polar interrogative, its use is more restricted: it
occurs only in informal genres of (spoken) Finnish in interrogatives where there is
a second person singular pronoun and only in instances where this pronoun is the
193
1
A similar phenomena occurs in a small number of common expressions such as: paljo(n)
kello on? (many/much clock is) ‘What’s the time?’. (In written Finnish, paljon would be
followed by the interrogative suffix: Paljonko kello on?). Unlike the examples with second
person singular pronoun subjects, however, the subject (kello ‘clock’) and finite verb (on ‘is’)
are not crucially involved in the forming of the interrogative.
194
Content interrogatives also include adverbials, which are not inflected, for exam-
ple, koska/milloin ‘when, kauan(ko) ‘how long [with reference to time]’, kuinka
‘how’ (for example, kuinka usein/pitkä ‘how often/long’) and paljon(ko) ‘how
much’.
÷÷ sitäksä tarkoitit?
that+PAR+Q+you(2SG) mean+PAS+2SG
‘Is that what you meant?’
1
Alternatively, this could be translated as a declarative with rising (tone 2) intonation: She
lives in Iisalmi?. It is difficult to say which is the most appropriate; and, needless to say, the
options available in Finnish cannot be equated with the those available in English (see 2.2.4).
195
number of examples may be skewed by the particular tone contour of the utter-
ance. A tentative interpretation is that the vai-interrogative is less direct than the
ko/kö content check. Rather than being a direct content check, it seems to serve as
an offer of something to comment on (cf. Eades 1982):
This interrogative vai is clearly related to the conjunction vai ‘or’, which typi-
cally occurs in interrogative clauses e.g. Otatko kahvia vai teetä? ‘Will you have
coffee or tea?’1 The vai at the end of a turn is like asking someone for a possible
alternative or contradiction: “or?”.
Thus, a characteristic context for vai is following the finite verb, where it
functions as what might be referred to as a forward channel, i.e. a back channel
that gives the turn back to the first speaker.
1
The variant tai ‘or’ typically occurs in declarative clauses. One could answer by saying
kahvi tai tee, ihan sama ‘coffee or tea, it’s all the same to me’.
196
The X in the network refers to the item being checked or the item that is picked
up and offered back as something to be commented on. Particularly in the case of
vai, the notion of a check interrogative should not be taken too literally. As seen
in the examples above, it is a means of taking the conversation forward. This is
also true of the ko/kö-check: e.g. niinkö [so + kö] ‘really?’. Nevertheless, it is
clearly an interrogative in the sense outlined above: it is oriented to the exchange
of language and the speaker’s role is that of “demander”.
1
See Appendix 6 for system network conventions. This network ) as with any network in SF
theory ) indicates the options that are available. It does not imply that the options are equi-
probable. I have included the check question although this option is typically available only
in a non-initial move in a conversation.
197
The general forms of (very many kinds of) illocutionary acts is F(p), where the variable “F”
takes illocutionary force indicating devices as values and “p” takes expressions for proposi-
tions. We can then symbolize different kinds of illocutionary acts in the form, e.g.,
And so on.
As illustrated by the discussion in this chapter, the finite verb and/or what
could be termed a “mood marker” ) an imperative ending, an interrogative suffix,
particle or pronoun ) holds the rest of the clause in its “scope”. Thus, it is the
Finite and/or a Mood Marker that “carries the burden of the clause as an interac-
tive event” (Halliday 1985a: 77). The rest of the clause can be referred to as the
Residue.
The residue is described by Halliday (1985a: 74) as what is left over, “the remain-
der of the clause”. In his analysis, Halliday (1985a: 78) nevertheless analyses the
Residue in terms of the “functional elements”, Predicator, Complement and Ad-
junct. Why these elements should be given functional status in a mood analysis is
unclear. A possible response for the analysis of Complement and Adjunct is that
they are defined in terms of their potential to become Subject in English: a Com-
plement has the potential of being Subject, an Adjunct does not have this poten-
tial (Halliday 1985: 79).1 However, it would seem to me that the basis for this
potential is textual rather than interactional. At any rate, the argument would not
apply to Finnish, in which the subject is not an interactional function and word-
order is extremely flexible, mostly conditioned by textual factors (see Vilkuna
1989 and Chapter 7).
1
An anomaly acknowledged by Halliday in his analysis is the fact that an Attribute in a
relational clause is regarded as the Complement in spite of the fact that it does not have this
potential. While the conflation of Attribute and Theme may be quite marked in English, to
the extent that it is possible, it is not picked up in a tag and it does not agree with the finite
verb in number and person: Happy/A poet am I, (am I not)? Here the pronoun I remains the
Subject.
199
According to Halliday (1985a: 75), the Finite relates what is being said to
the context of the interactive event, i.e. ties it to the “here and now”. As its name
implies, the Finite has the function of making the proposition finite. That is to
say, it circumscribes it; it brings it down to earth, so that it is something that can
be argued about. A good way to make something arguable is to give it a point of
reference in the here and now; and this is what the finite does. It relates the propo-
sition to its context in the speech event. Halliday (1985a: 75) sees the
contextualization of the Finite in English is in terms of 1) primary tense and 2)
modality. Here the term “modality” also subsumes polarity: both are regarded by
Halliday as interpersonal. Expressions of modality and modulation are seen as
realizing meanings intermediate between positive and negative polarity (see
Halliday 1985a: 75,86,335); and polarity is interpersonal in that it represents
whether or not the speaker denies or affirms a proposition or proposal (Matthies-
sen 1988: 161).
The problem seems to stem from the fact that primary tense and modality are
related to the here and now of the speech event in different ways. In the philo-
sophical linguistic tradition, for example, links between language and the speech
situation are covered by deixis, which roughly corresponds to areas of both inter-
200
Firstly, polarity features can be linked more clearly than modality features to
the here and now, to the spatiotemporal context of the utterance. While SF theory
is not concerned with truth from the point of view of truth-conditional semantics
(see 2.3.5 p. 30 ff.), polarity features can be linked to (a commitment on the part
of the speaker) as to whether or not a state of affairs holds. Through polarity fea-
tures a speaker makes a commitment as to the truth, or otherwise, of what she or
he is saying. Thus, for example, if we consider a situation in which someone says
Mari ei ollut kotona ‘Mari was not at home’ (or Mari oli kotona ‘Mari was at
home’), then the speaker is making a commitment to the truth of what (s)he is
saying. If, in fact, the statement were not true, then the speaker could, depending
on the circumstances, be accused of telling a lie or a white lie or giving false evi-
dence in a court of law. If, on the other hand, the speaker had said Mari olisi voi-
nut olla kotona ‘Mari could have been at home’, with the verb in the conditional
(-isi-) for example, then the same sort of commitment is not involved, as re-
flected by the fact that it would hardly count as evidence in a court of law. Thus,
the notion of truth, as it is being used here, is far from the notion of truth as it is
understood in truth-conditional semantics, where truth is seen in terms of a simple
201
one-to-one correspondence between sentences and the way things are in the real
world ) or any possible world (cf. Harris 1987b: 157ff.). Moreover, to regard
polarity as an essential concomitant of finiteness is of particular relevance in
Finnish, where the negative element is not a particle but a verb form which in-
flects for person and number (see Figure 3-5, p. 81).
As I shall argue in Chapter 6, the grammatical subject in Finnish realizes the ex-
periential macro-role of MEDIUM . The question that arises from an interactional
perspective is whether the grammatical subject also realizes the interactional
function of Subject, i.e. whether MEDIUM and Subject are necessarily conflated in
Finnish.
The fact that a QUESTION can be realized by a clause without a subject is a clear
indication that the subject in Finnish is not crucially involved in the clause as an
interactive event.
(57) nukuttaa
sleep+3SG
‘Feeling sleepy. (I’m feeling sleepy.)’
(58) nukuttaako
sleep+3SG+Q
‘Feel sleepy? (Are you feeling sleepy?)’
As I shall discuss more fully in 7.4.2, the participant that is not realized in the
linguistic structure is the speaker in a STATEMENT and the addressee in a QU ES-
TION . Thus, this participant ) which, for convenience, could be referred to as the
“primary inherent participant (or role)” ) need not be realized if it is the speaker
or addressee.
While one might want to argue that this primary inherent participant is cru-
cially involved in the clause as interactive event, the fact remains that there is no
203
single grammatical realization of this participant: it can be realized (i) as the sub-
ject (i.e. it is in the nominative and agrees with the verb in number and person) or
(ii) as what has traditionally been referred to as the object, as in 54a and 54b
above, where it is in the partitive and the verb is always in the third person singu-
lar, or (iii) in the adessive in a possessive clause, where the verb is always in the
third person singular or (iv) in the elative in what is generally referred to as a
resultative clause. In these resultative clauses, the verb ) once again ) is always
in the third person singular. These can be illustrated with the following examples
from A. Hakulinen (1983: 246), who also argues that the subject is not central in
the grammatical organization of Finnish. Among the evidence cited by Hakulinen
is the fact that a possessive or reflexive suffix is not “controlled” by the subject.
In the terminology used here, a possessive or reflexive suffix is co-referential with
the primary inherent participant (which is not necessarily the subject).
A third factor in the consideration of the modal status of the subject is the
mood tag. Like many other languages, Finnish does not have a mood tag that
picks up the Subject and Finite as in English. Possible tags in Finnish are eikö
204
vaan ~ eikö niin (eiks niin)? [not so?] ‘isn’t that so’, which refer to the whole
proposition and do not pick up the subject:
The subject here is hän ‘she/he’, which is not picked up in the tag. Furthermore,
only the finite verb need be repeated in a confirmation or a denial:
<B> Menee.
goes+3SG
‘Yes, it does.’
On the other hand, the subjectless clauses exemplified earlier (53 ) 56), do
not occur in the imperative, or at least not in the 2nd person imperative: *nukuta!
‘feel sleepy!’. This may be seen as an indication that the grammatical subject is in
some way tied in with the interactional options in the clause. However, as argued
above, the imperative mood involves orientation to action, and an important fea-
ture of a proposal (in Halliday’s terms a command or an offer) is a participant that
makes the action or process possible, i.e. the Medium. This would again indicate,
as will be argued in the next chapter, that the subject in Finnish realizes an experi-
ential function.
205
Chapter 6
Experiential Structures in the Finnish Clause
This chapter focuses on experiential structures in the Finnish clause, i.e. those
meanings that are concerned with the way in which language serves as a model of
reality, with the way in which it is used to represent and construct the world in
which we live. Since the description presented is based on SF theory, reference is
made, in particular, to the writings of Halliday. Halliday’s (1985a) description of
English makes no claims about the experiential organization of Finnish, and, thus,
in referring to Halliday, I am taking those aspects of his description of English
that appear to be relevant in the application of SF theory to Finnish.
As pointed out in 2.4.7 (p. 54 ff.) and 2.4.11 (p. 63 ff.), while grammatical
analysis in SF theory is based on meaning, these meanings must be related to
distinctions that are reflected in some way in the organization of the clause. Thus,
the analysis addresses two questions simultaneously:
1) What grammatical meanings are realized in a particular clause type?
2) How are these meanings construed in the organization of the clause?
In this respect, systemic-functional grammar differs from other grammars, for
example, case-role analysis as developed by Fillmore (1968) and Anderson (1971,
1977). While Fillmore originally based his case analysis on grammatical distinc-
tions in English, the cases that he postulated are generally assumed to be univer-
sally applicable. Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979: 101 ff.) have applied these case-
roles to Finnish. In their analysis, for example, the following underlined nominals
are assigned different roles, since an agentive is animate whereas an instrument is
inanimate:
On the other hand, if traktori ‘tractor’ in this last example is replaced by mies
‘a/the man’, then the subject would undoubtedly be regarded as an Agentive:
Thus, the meanings that are being focused on in this chapter ) and in this
study ) are those that are construed in the clause. Meaning-making is not, of
course, restricted to lexical items or clauses. There are meanings, such as censure
or irony, for example, that cannot be related to specific lexicogrammatical fea-
tures. Following Lemke (1988, 1989, 1990) I make a methodological distinction
between grammatical meaning and meanings that are made in a text. While gram-
mar and text are seen to be in a dialectic and symbiotic relationship in SF theory
and text semantics is regarded as subsuming grammatical meaning, in order to
have some principled way of analysing the way in which we make meaning, we
need to be able to separate out those meanings that are realized
lexicogrammatically.
tasa-arvoillaan.
equal+status ~ opportunity +FREQUENTATIVE VERBAL AFFIX + INDE
‘These days you forge a career, fulfil yourself and you equalize your opportunities.’
1
The inverted commas are Laitinen’s: it is clear that she is using the term informally.
208
The censure that can be read (or read into) this example is not a grammatical fea-
ture of Finnish: taken by itself nyt luodaan uraa, for example, is not necessarily
censorious. While, as Laitinen points out, the frequentative verb tasa-arvoilla
‘(to) equalize your opportunities’ is not established in usage in Finnish and has a
slightly mocking effect in this context, it is not the frequentative or the indefinite
(passive) per se, but a combination of features that gives this bit of text a mock-
ing effect. (This can be compared to the indefinite use of “they” in English, which
is sometimes used in contexts expressing disapproval e.g. That’s what happened
when they let buses go up St James’s Street [Graham Green (1978), The Human
Factor, p. 34].)
It would be difficult to detect any note of censure in the paragraph in which this
indefinite occurred, i.e. as part of an academic text in a collection of articles pub-
lished by a group interested in women’s studies and feminist issues in Finland. If
this clause had occurred in a text written, for example, by a man who was known
to be a misogynist and anti-feminist, it would be read in a different way, it could
even be interpreted as being censorious.
ture the meaning of central or concrete instances, but the meaning of the category
as a whole is ineffable (see Chapter 2).
Moreover, as discussed in 2.4.8 (p. 56 ff. and elsewhere in Chapter 2), while
grammatical description in SF theory is organized on the basis of meaning, expe-
riential meaning is only one type of meaning realized in the clause: a number of
different types of meaning are simultaneously realized and conflated in the
clause. In contrast with these other grammars, SF theory does not restrict seman-
tics to experiential semantics.
The aim of this chapter is to analyse the way in which experiential meaning
is realized at the rank of clause. It will be concerned with grammatically and se-
mantically motivating basic clause types in Finnish ) clause types that are de-
fined experientially. Only basic options will be dealt with; the analysis needs to
be extended in delicacy for each clause type. I shall, however, analyse one partic-
ular process type ) relational intensive processes ) at a somewhat greater degree
of delicacy than the other process types in order to illustrate how the analysis
proceeds.
6.1.2. Processes
The term “process” is used in two senses in SF theory and throughout this study :
1) in its narrow sense, it refers to the function that is typically realized by a verb
in a language and 2), in its wider sense, it can be seen as the SF equivalent of the
term “state of affairs”, if a state of affairs is understood as being a linguistic con-
struct and not a logical notion. A process in this wider sense (i.e. a linguistically
construed state of affairs) could also be referred to as a “representation”.
cess, i.e. what Halliday refers to as the circumstances. These experiential seman-
tic functions provide a basic framework for organizing and interpreting the world
of our experience, whether real or imagined. They can be subclassified into more
specific functions such as Actor, Goal, Source etc.
1
Halliday’s use of the term “participant” in this quotation corresponds to the what I am
referring to as a “role”. He says, for example, that you are required by the regulations to pay
the full fee to the examining board “involves four participants”.
212
a minimal configuration of functions associated with each process type, the pro-
cess itself and the other inherent or core functions associated with it. As E. Itko-
nen (1990: 354) points out (see 2.3.4), this can only be done on the basis of our
linguistic intuitions, i.e. on the basis our knowledge of what counts as a minimal
- yet complete - structure, since minimal configurations are unlikely to occur fre-
quently in actual texts. A non-inherent or peripheral function can be determined
on the basis of a deletion test: if it is omitted, a complete structure remains.
(6) Ol + i + n Szegedissä.
be + PAS + 1SG Szeged+INE
‘I was in Szeged.’
The fact that an experiential function can be realized as a morpheme that is part of
the verb is an indicator par excellence of its status as inherent role. Its inherent-
ness is evidenced by the fact that it realized by a morpheme that is actually part of
the finite verb. The representation of a first or second person participant as a sepa-
rate pronoun is textually conditioned in Finnish. Matthiessen & Halliday (forth-
coming, section 3.3.4) suggest that in instances like this, the pronoun has only
textual value and does not have a function in the transitivity structure of the
clause. In the glosses in this chapter, where there is both a 1st or 2nd person pro-
noun and a 1st or 2nd person morpheme (“personal ending”) in the linguistic
structure this is indicated by a subscript: e.g. mä lähde+n ‘I’m leaving’ would be
glossed as: Actori Process+Actor i.
213
The major process types in Finnish are: relational, material, and mental processes
(following Matthiessen’s (1989) description of English, I shall use mental as a
cover term for mental, perceptive, reactive, verbal etc.). Once again, it needs to be
stressed that while I use roughly the same labels that are used in SF descriptions
of English, this does not mean that Finnish and English categories are equivalent
(see 6.1 and Chapter 2). The macrofunctions that I postulate for Finnish, Medium
and Domain, will be discussed in section 6.7.
In line with the theory of prototypes (see 2.4.12, p. 65), these major process
types are not seen as discrete and absolute categories, but rather as overlapping
categories:
RELATIONAL
MATERIAL
MENTAL
Within each process type there are a number of subtypes, which can be grammati-
cally and semantically linked with each other. These subtypes are also analysed in
terms of being more or less representative of the subtype.
214
b. Tim is a dancer.
Car Pro:int Attribute
Halliday (1985a: 124) points out that the distinction between attribution and
identification is not clear-cut in English. This distinction, however, is grammati-
1
The use of these English translations is simply a convenience. It is not meant to imply that
there is a universal set of meanings.
215
cally realized by the fact that if the positions of the nominal constituents in an
identifying process are reversed (e.g. The tall one is Steve), the functions are also
reversed: the tall one is the Identified, i.e. the one to be identified. Whereas in an
attributive process in English, reversing the positions of the nominal constituents
is generally highly marked, but when it does occur (e.g. in proverbs) the functions
are not reversed:
The most common type of intensive process in Finnish is the attributive. Attribu-
tive intensive processes can generally be analysed as a configuration of the fol-
lowing functions:
Carrier @ Process:intensive @ Attribute
The raised stop ( @ ) indicates that the functions are not necessarily realized in this
order, since word order in Finnish is textually conditioned. However, to the extent
to which word-order variation is possible, as in English, what is significant about
216
(12) [mul ois ens viikon torstaihin aikaa kirjoittaa se puhtaaksi, ] [Tel2:13]
‘I’ve got until next Thursday to type up a final copy’
This agreement is consistent in both written and spoken Finnish. Agreement be-
tween the NP realizing the Carrier and the finite verb is more complex. The NP
agrees with the verb in person, i.e. it is what I have referred to as the grammatical
subject in Chapter 3. However, while in standardized Finnish, the Carrier NP
would also agree with the verb in number, this is not the case in spoken Finnish
(see 3.3.2 p. 78). The spoken Finnish variant of 15 above is as follows:
1
The former is the spoken, the latter the written Finnish variant.
218
In this particular instance, actual reversal of the positions of the inherent roles is
unlikely because the pronoun mä ‘I’ is unstressed, and, moreover, since it is a
deictic element, it is typically Given, and thus is most likely to occur at the begin-
ning of a tone group (see 7.2.2). If the pronoun occurs after the verb, i.e. pelkkä
nukke olisin minä siellä ‘A mere doll would I be there’, the resulting clause
sounds biblical in Finnish. Reversal is more likely with other NPs:
1
See 4.5.5 (p. 149 ff.) for a discussion of embedding.
219
(20) Tapa! Kaunis on sota. [From a poster]
kill! beautiful-NOM be+3SG war-NOM
Att Pro:int Car
‘Kill! War is beautiful.’
However, the point that is being made here is that regardless of word order, the
functions of the Attribute and Carrier do not change.
The use of this criterion ) i.e. the effect of a change in word order on the
experiential functions ) may be questionable to some grammarians, who may ask
“What kind of evidence is this and what evidence is there that the roles have or
have not changed?” In a functional grammar, however, one does not pretend that
one can make judgments about grammaticality that are independent of meaning.
This criterion is no less or no more questionable than a traditional grammarian
saying that häntä ‘(s)he+PAR ’ is the object in both of the following clauses, which
vary only in word order:
In SF terms, a speaker of Finnish knows that häntä ‘(s)he+PAR ’ has the same ex-
periential function because she or he has an understanding of both clauses.
Identifying intensive processes, on the other hand, are distinguished by the rever-
sal test mentioned above: if the positions of the nominal constituents in an inten-
sive process are reversed, the functions are also reversed. The following text is
taken from a review of a play by the eighteenth-century French playwright Pierre
de Marivaux, who ) it can be assumed ) would be unknown to many Finnish
theatre-goers. After a long introduction to Marivaux and his work, the reviewer
220
compares Marivaux’s plays to Mozart’s music and then introduces the leading
female role using an identifying process:
(23) [Harhatunteissa ne aariat keskeisesti laulaa vasta leskeksi jäänyt nuori kaunis Markiisitar...
‘In La Seconde Surprise de l’Amour these arias are centrally sung by the young, beauti-
ful marchioness, who has just become a widow ....’]
Volanen,
Volanen-NOM
‘by our standards a sovereign/outstanding comedienne, whose dazzling personal input makes
La Seconde Surprise de l’Amour a performance festival.’
In this example, the two NPs realize functions that are equated: the first is lexi-
cally realized by the character in the play, Kansallisteatterin Markiisitar ‘the
National Theatre’s marchioness’, the second by the proper noun that refers to the
actress Eeva-Kaarina Volanen.
One of the sets of inherent roles that Halliday (1985a: 115 ff.) postulates for
intensive processes in English is Identified and Identifier. According to Halliday
(1985a: 118), as a general rule, the Identified in the experiential structure of the
clause conflates with the Given element in the information structure and the Iden-
tifier conflates with the New element. I assume that this is also true for Finnish.
Hence, in the example above, Kansallisteatterin Markiisitar ‘the National Thea-
tre’s marchioness’ realizes the Given element in the context above, i.e. it is the
information that is presented by the writer as recoverable, it is not news (Halliday
1985a: 277; see also Chapter 7). It is also the Identified, i.e. the element to be
identified. The New element is the element that is presented as non-recoverable:
it is the newsworthy bit of the clause. In the clause above, it is Eeva-Kaarina
Volanen. This element also realizes the Identifier.
221
(24) Kansallisteatterin Markiisitar on Eeva-Kaarina Volanen.
Identified (Given) Pro:int Identifier (New)
‘The National Theatre’s marchioness is Eeva-Kaarina Volanen ...’
Another test for determining which element realizes the Identifier is that if, on the
basis of an identifying clause we formulate an implied content interrogative
(Kuka/mikä on X? ‘who/which is X?’), then the interrogative pronoun (or the
answer to the question) refers to the Identifier. In the example above, the implied
question would be: Kuka Kansallisteatterin Markiisitar on? (Or: Kuka on
Kansallisteatterin Markiisitar?) ‘Who is the National Theatre’s Marchioness?’;
and the response, i.e. the Identifier, would be Eeva-Kaarina Volanen.1
1
A problem that ensues from this discussion is whether Identified and Identifier are
redundant functions that can be replaced by Given and New (cf. Halliday (1985a: 118), who
maintains that this is not the case in English). In other words, can we simply say that in a
Finnish identifying clause Given and New are equated? Since Given and New are assumed
to be prosodically realized (see Chapter 7), this question is beyond the scope of this study.
222
(26) Marjukka Halttunen on ilakoivan ketterä,
Marjukka Halttunen is light-hearted+GEN agile
* Id (G) * Pro:int * Ir (N)
‘Marjukka Halttunen is the light-heartedly agile and sharp-witted lady’s maid Lisette,’
The last two examples are elliptical: the finite verb on ‘is’ is retrievable from the
first clause in the complex (26).
‘I’m the one who asked you yesterday about Halliday’s (notion) of modality.’
Here the NP se ‘it/that’ + embedded relative clause serves to identify the caller
mä ‘I’.
1
It should be noted that while the approach taken by Kelomäki (1988) is logico-philosophi-
cal, one of Kelomäki’s central themes is the inadequacy of a strictly logical approach to the
analysis of language.
224
(30) Eräs ongelmien syntyyn vaikuttanut tekijä
certain-NOM problem+PL+GEN birth+ILL influence+PTC factor-NOM
Id
‘One of the factors (/A certain factor) that has caused problems is the fact that Finnish ship
owners have displayed their “patriotism” by ordering their ships from overseas.’
This example is from an article in which the writer first discusses the crisis that is
facing Finnish dockyards. In this particular clause, the writer identifies one of the
factors that has contributed to the crisis. The Identifier (realized by the NP with a
clause embedded in it) could be seen as a response to the implicit question “What
factors have/What has contributed to the birth of these problems?”. In the context
of the article, it is not feasible to reverse the positions of the NPs, but, in princi-
ple, this is possible. In which case the NP that has been translated as ‘the fact that
Finnish ship owners have displayed their “patriotism” by ordering their ships
from overseas’ would be the Identified (Given) and ‘one of the factors that has
caused problems (in the dockyards)’ would be the Identifier. The reason the ex-
ample is rejected by Kelomäki is that the indefinite pronoun eräs ‘a certain’ ex-
plicitly indicates that there are other factors involved. While this is true, it is irrel-
evant from the point of view of identification as it is understood in this study.
What is relevant is that one of the factors is being identified. (See Halliday (1968:
190) for his analysis of a similar type of clause in English: Gladstone would be
an example).
With a first or second person subject, the Identified (Given) may be realized
by a bound morpheme:
The morpheme -n (referring to the speaker) realizes the Identified (Given). This is
recoverable because a speaker and an addressee are assumed in an interactive
situation. Examples such as this can be referred to as “naming (identifying)
clauses”.
‘The most important speech organs are the lungs, the larynx, the soft palate, the tongue
and the lips.’
227
The following are from the entries for Oidipus ‘Oedipus’ and Laatokka ‘(Lake)
Ladoga’ in a Finnish encyclopaedia:
‘Oedipus (‘Thickfoot’) is the main character of the Theban legends in Greek mythology.’
‘Lake Ladoga (Russian name: Ladožkoje ozero) is the largest lake in Europe and the
fourth largest lake in the Soviet Union.’
In the examples so far, both the Identifier and the Identified have been real-
ized by an NP in the nominative case. It is relevant to ask whether this is a neces-
sary requirement. According to Hakulinen and Karlsson (1979: 95) and Kelomäki
(1988: 2), this is indeed the case. In fact, where Kelomäki is concerned the re-
quirement is self-evidently logical, so much so that in his view any statement
explicitly asserting that both NPs in an equative clause must both be in the nomi-
native is superfluous. The logical reasoning behind this assumption is as follows.
An equative clause is defined in terms of co-extension. It follows that the two
terms to be equated in an equative clause must have the same extension. Two NPs
cannot not have the same extension if one of the NPs is in the nominative, which
realizes a bounded entity or a bounded set (see Chapter 3), and the other is in the
partitive, since that partitive indicates that the NP is unbounded. The acceptance
of this argument raises problems in the description of many naming and exempli-
fying clauses in Finnish. The following example is taken from a section of an
introductory linguistics textbook in which bound morphemes (affixes) are classi-
fied and named:
228
(38) [Affiksit voidaan ryhmittää kolmia sen mukaan miten ne sijoittuvat suhteessa vartaloon.
‘Affixes can be divided into three groups according to where they are placed in relation to
the stem.’]
... Vartalon sisään sijoittuvia affikseja sanotaan infikseiksi ... Vartalon jälkeistä affikseista
käytetään termiä suffiksi.
‘... Affixes that are placed inside the stem are called infixes ... For affixes that come after
the stem we use the term suffix.’
From the point of view of their semantics, clauses of this type are like other iden-
tifying clauses, since it is clear to any Finn reading the text that the set of prefixes
is exhausted by the set of affixes that come before the stem and that the set of
affixes that come before the stem exhausts the set of prefixes. The second NP,
however, is in the partitive, which, as Kelomäki points out, generally means that
the NP is unbounded.
The example above, however, could be seen as carrying the crucial property
of an identifying structure as defined in this section, but in a covert form. It is
possible to construct an agnate clause in which the position and function of the
two NPs is reversed, such that the original clause and the agnate clauses are syn-
onymous (from an experiential perspective):
229
(39) (a = b)
Here 39a is from the original text (JYK:124), while 39b displays reversal of the
NPs. If simply on the basis of the different case-forms of the two NPs (i.e. nomi-
native and partitive), we were to exclude such clauses from the category of identi-
fying clause, then it would be necessary to argue that this criterion by itself car-
ries more weight than the criterion of reversibilty of function together with the
semantics of identification, which a speaker of Finnish responds to so readily. For
these reasons, it is suggested that clauses of the type exemplified by 39 above fall
into the class of identifying process.
(40) (a =/ b)
a. Suomalaiset ovat [geeniensä perusteella
Finns+NOM/PL be+3PL genes+PL+GEN+POS/3 basis+ADE
Car Pro:int (NR)
selvästi] europpalaisia.
clearly European+PL+PAR
(NR) Att [T 8-9/85: 41]
‘[On the basis of their genes, it is clear that] Finns are Europeans.
1
To demonstrate this, one often needs to construct an agnate clause in which the Token and
Value are in the plural.
230
‘They can be, for example, weather reports, bulletins on ice conditions, maritime/seafaring
reports, police bulletins, and missing persons announcements.’
As with the examples above there is a kind of symmetry if the positions and func-
tions are reversed:
‘For example, weather reports and police bulletins are public bulletins.’
This distinguishes them from attributive processes. However, as with any gram-
matical phenomena, there is bound to be a fuzzy boundary between the two.
231
(42) [Vladimir Jashtshenko, (18) ei varmaankaan aavistanut, mitä tapahtuu jos hyppää
ensimmäisenä maailmassa 233 senttiä korkeutta. ‘There’s no doubt that Vladimir
Yashtshenko, 18, had little idea of what would happen when one is the first in the world to
clear the 2.33 metre high jump.’]
1
Another verb that can occur in a resultative clause is kasvaa ‘grow, develop, mature’.
232
In section 6.3.1.(i) above, it was pointed out that a crucial feature of almost
all intensive processes is the fact that the NPs agree in number. This is the gram-
matical link between resultative clauses and other intensive clauses. Thus, exam-
ple 43 contrasts with the following example, in which both NPs are in the plural:
1
The same problem exists in English with clauses like Vladimir became this summer’s most
interesting sportsman.
233
The effect of negative polarity is a feature that resultative clauses share with ma-
terial processes and some mental and verbal processes.
There are other intensive processes in which one of the inherent roles is in
one of the other intermediate cases (see Chapter 2), i.e. the translative or the
essive. These will be referred to as “temporary intensive processes” (abbreviated:
Pro:int:temp). These correspond to some of the clause types in which there is
what has been traditionally referred to as a “complement adverbial”
(predikatiiviadverbiaali) (see, e.g. Hakulinen & Karlsson 1979: 211 ff.). The
process in a temporary intensive process is typically realized by verbs such as
olla ‘(to) be’, tulla ‘to (come)’, jäädä ‘(to) remain’, toimia ‘(to) act/function [as
something]’, pysyä ‘to stay’ etc. .
‘Fagerholm became a journalist for Arbetarbladet in 1926 and was editor-in-chief from
1934 to 1937.’
234
(48) miksi ihmiset ovat äkkiä tulleet
why person+NOM/PL be+3PL all of a sudden come+PTC+NOM/PL
(NR) Car Pro:int:temp-> (NR) <-Pro
aggressiivisiksi [HKV]
aggressive+PL+TRA
Att
The fact that intensive clauses with an NP in the essive typically realize
temporariness is reflected in a comment made by Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979:
213). In their view, if the lexical meaning of an Attribute includes temporariness,
then the essive is not possible. For example, epävakainen ‘unsettled’ is an attrib-
ute that is not a permanent or inherent feature of something:
b. ?? Sää on epävakaisena.
weather-NOM is-3SG unsettled-ESS
‘The weather is being unsettled.’
To the extent that this is true, it can be explained by the fact that it is unnecessary
to explicitly encode a clause as a temporary process if it is something that is al-
ready understood as being temporary.
236
hullulta. [HKV]
mad/crazy/idiotic+ABL
Att
‘In the eyes of a layperson, the affair seems idiotic.’
vaatekappaleita. [HKV]
clothing+item+PL+PAR
In this particular type of inclusive clause, one of the nominals is in the singular
nominative and the other is in the plural partitive.
(60) [mul ois ens viikon torstaihin aikaa kirjoittaa se puhtaaksi, [Tel2:13]
‘I’ve got until next Thursday to type up a final copy’
One could equally argue that tämä (homma) ‘this job’ belongs to the set of slow
jobs (i.e. tämä (homma) ‘this (job)’ 0 helvetin hidasta hommaa ‘hellishly slow
work/job(s)’).
What links Hakulinen & Karlsson’s examples (58 ) 59) to the other exam-
ples above (56 ) 57) is the lack of agreement between the NPs realizing the Car-
rier and Attribute. Thus, if 58 above, for example, is changed so that the initial
NP is plural, the NP at the end of the clause remains in the singular:
selvästi europpalaisia.
clearly European+PL+PAR
(NR) Att [T 8-9/85: 41]
‘On the basis of their genes, it is clear that Finns are Europeans.’
Thus, what are referred to as inclusive processes are distinct from what could be
seen as a classifying attributive process. While on semantic grounds, one could
argue that in example 62 that suomalaiset ‘Finns’ belongs to the class of Europe-
ans, this clause is grammatically similar to the clause Suomalaiset ovat vaaleita
‘Finns are blonde’.
240
This section deals with what could be considered a subtype of intensive process.
What I refer to as an “ambient process” in Finnish corresponds to some of the
clauses in English that have a “dummy subject”, for example, it was cold on Sun-
day, it was late, it’s Thursday today. The translation equivalents of these in
Finnish would correspond to “on Sunday was cold” and “was late” and “on this
day (today) is Thursday”. Thus, Finnish is one of those languages in which one
says “In London is cold” rather than “London is cold” (although “London is cold”
is also possible) (see Lyons 1977b: 476).
Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979: 93,301) refer to clauses like this as ‘situation
clauses’ (Finnish: tilalause). According to them, a situation clause is expressed
by the structure (A) V or (A) V C (where ‘A’ stands for Adverbial, V for Verb and
C for Complement). By this criterion, they also regard the following as a situation
clause:
The final NP lunta ‘snow’ does not assign an attribute to the Circumstance täällä
‘here’; it qualifies the process of raining. One can also say in Finnish: sataa vettä
‘it’s raining water’.
242
Hakulinen & Karlsson seem to treat this variation as syntactic. Their analy-
sis is partly inspired by transformational-generative grammar. Given the assump-
tion that S ÷ NP + VP in transformational-generative theory, the absence of an
NP is problematic. A further problem ensues from the fact that if an NP is added
to the clauses in Finnish, the NP is not the subject. Although not actually made
explicit, this appears to be the reasoning in Hakulinen & Karlsson’s analysis.
From a Finnish perspective, of course, the original assumption (S ÷ NP + VP) is
questionable.
243
It seems to me that this example is misleading: I would argue that the initial ad-
verbial is not optional in the clause Hämeessä on kylmä. It can only be omitted if
it is presupposed by ellipsis, i.e. there has to be some reference to Häme in the
preceding text. Thus, the relationship between on kylmä [is cold] and täällä
[here] is different to the relationship between on kylmä and Hämeessä [in Häme].
As indicated earlier, without any co-text to indicate otherwise, on kylmä ‘it’s
cold’ would be interpreted as täällä on kylmä ‘it’s cold here’ or ulkona on kylmä
‘it’s cold outside’, i.e. if Pekka says to Jussi “on kylmä”, the interpretative source
is in the here and now of the speech situation. If on the other hand, Pekka is tell-
ing Jussi about his trip to Häme, and says oli kylmä [was cold], then it would be
interpreted as Hämeessä oli kylmä [in Häme was cold], i.e. the interpretative
source is in the co-text.
Ambient processes like on kylmä [is cold] are part of a wider, general phe-
nomenon in Finnish: there are other declarative clauses in Finnish that begin with
the verb. If something is added to a verb-initial declarative, it would be a Circum-
stance and its unmarked place would be at the beginning of the clause. Clauses
like this include example 5 from the beginning of this chapter: Puhuttiin naisten
rooleista ‘The discussion was concerned with the roles of women’ and examples
such as Syttyi sota [break out +PAS+3 SG war-NOM ] ‘There was a war/A war broke
out’. As discussed in Chapter 7, these clauses too are about the temporal or spatial
domain of discourse.
244
Circumstantial relational processes also set up a relation but the relation is be-
tween an Entity and a Circumstance: something is located somewhere in space or
time. The space in which something is located can also be abstract, for example,
a physical or mental state or an activity. This type of circumstantial process will
be referred to as a general circumstantial process. A subtype of circumstantial
process in Finnish is a possessive process.
In the examples above, the Positioned is the Theme of the clause, but it is
also possible for the Circumstance to be the Theme:
246
(76) [From an encyclopaedia entry on Erik XIV of Sweden and Finland.]
Veljesten välinen riita leimahti ilmiliekkiin 1563, jolloin alkoi ns. pohjoismainen
seitsenvuotinen sota lähinnä Baltian kauppaetujen vuoksi.
‘The conflict between the brothers [i.e. Erik & his brother] broke out in full flame in 1563
with the start of the so-called seven-year Nordic War, which was waged mostly for trade
rights in the Baltic region.’
‘Opposing Erik [in opposition to Erik] were Lübeck, Poland and Denmark.’
A clause like this could be a response to the question ‘Where is Anna?’. Simi-
larly, one could have Anna on kävelemässä ‘Anna is walking’ from the verb
kävellä ‘(to) walk’, Anna on nukkumassa ‘Anna is sleeping’ from the verb nuk-
kua ‘(to) sleep’, Anna on syömässä ‘Anna is eating (having lunch)’ from the verb
syödä ‘(to) eat’.
(1990),1 I regard a form like this as being analogous to a concrete spatial circum-
stance.
The difference between these Finnish clauses and their English translation
equivalents can be also illustrated by the following example:
The verb (to) exist can only be translated into Finnish by this kind of structure,
which corresponds to something like “is in the state of being”.
The analysis, however, is complicated by the fact that the process realized
by the stem of the nominal realizing the Circumstance can be extended to a Goal:
1
Leino et al. (1990) is an analysis of Finnish locative cases based on Jackendoff’s (1983)
conceptual semantics.
248
This is a reflection of the fact that the stem of the Circumstance is indeed a verb
and not a noun.
‘The Hasanniemi summer (open-air) theatre is situated on the shores of Lake Pyhäselkä.’
‘The nerve mechanisms that form the basis of speech are located in the left hemisphere of
the brain.’
As indicated by the function glosses, examples like this are considered to be cir-
cumstantial processes in this study, since they construct a relation whereby some-
thing is located somewhere in space or time. As I see it, the grammatical and se-
249
cars are necessarily in the street. This appears to be a reflection of the fact that a
possessive relationship is conventionalized in Finnish. Thus, the structure NOMI-
NAL ADESSIVE + olla ‘be + NOM INAL exemplified by 86, where the first nominal
refers to a human and the second to an Entity, is generally interpreted in terms of
possession rather than location.
Possessive processes have features that are typically associated with what Finnish
linguists call existential clauses. It is possible for one of the inherent participants,1
in this instance, the Possessed, to be in the partitive. A feature peculiar to posses-
sive processes is that while a singular, bounded entity in a clause with positive
polarity is in the nominative singular (e.g. Minulla on uusi auto ‘I’ve got a new
car’), a personal pronoun is in the accusative: Minulla on sinut [I+ADE is
you(SG)+ACC ] ‘I’ve got you’.
1
This is generally referred to as the “subject” of an existential clause by Finnish grammarians
(e.g. T. Itkonen (1979)).
251
(88) a. <A> onks sul uus
be+3SG+Q you(SG)+ADE new-NOM
Pro:rel Poss:er Poss:ed
‘Have you got a new one
There are, of course, many other, more abstract relationships between the Pos-
sessor and the Possessed, as in the following example:
‘They’ve got their own life styles [Finnish kuviot [pattern-NOM/PL] refers here to a more
or less fixed set of things that one does and set of people that one meets].’
The claim that instances like 92 ) 94 are possessive processes rests on the
fact that the initial nominal is not interpreted as a location. Example 94 above can
be contrasted with the following example, where the initial nominal is in the in-
essive case:
While there is a fuzzy line between possessive processes and general cir-
cumstantial processes, i.e. a clause of the form X:llä on Y [X-adessive is Y] can
mean ‘at X is Y’ or ‘X has Y’, there seems to be a more clear-cut line between
possessives, on the one hand, and some other clause types which some Finnish
linguists have regarded as possessive. Hakulinen and Karlsson (1979: 96-97, 209)
refer to clauses such as the following as inanimate possessives constructions:
The possessive translation in English has the advantage of retaining the textual
structure of the Finnish clause, but translating a Finnish clause by an English pos-
sessive does not make it a possessive in Finnish: the meanings that are made in
Finnish are dependent on the interrelations and oppositions that are available in
Finnish, they are not based on English meanings.
b. ?? Laivassa on kapteeninsa.
ship+INE be+3SG captain+PO S/3
‘On the ship is her captain.’
The inessive example (97b) is from Nikanne (1990: 82), whose analysis is based
on Jackendoff’s theory of conceptual semantics and attempts to assess the limits
of grammaticality in language. I have put question marks in front of the example,
because it is problematic. Nikanne finds the example acceptable, and, moreover,
his translation differs from mine. He translates this as ‘the ship has her captain’
and claims that a circumstantial interpretation is not possible.
There is another argument that has been appealed to in claiming that exam-
ples like 96 above (repeated below as 100) are possessive.
The argument rests on the fact that vene ‘boat’ can occur as a genitive modifier in
an NP:
The view has been put forward by Vähämäki (1980: 38; 1984: 310-330). As dis-
cussed in Chapter 3, however, the genitive is extensively used in Finnish (to mark
a dependent element) and it cannot be equated with a possessive (see 3.4.1 p. 89
ff.). Moreover, if we accept this argument then by the same token the following
clause is possessive.
6.3.5. Summary
The process types discussed in section 6.3 under the heading of relational pro-
cesses have all been concerned with the setting up of a relationship: a relationship
between two entities, between an entity and a circumstance or between an entity
and a attribute. Intensive relational processes set up a relation of the kind ‘X is
(like) Y’. Inclusive relational processes set up an inclusive relationship ‘X 0 Y’.
Ambient relational processes set up a relation in which a temporal or spatial Cir-
cumstance is characterized: ‘at X is like Y’.
Finally, in circumstantial processes something is located in space or time: ‘X is at
Y’ or ‘at Y is X’, and, on this basis, circumstantial processes are considered to
belong to the superordinate category of relational processes. Possessive processes
are a subtype of circumstantial process in Finnish.
1
Material processes were earlier referred to by Halliday (in Kress (ed.) 1976:161) as action
processes; this earlier term has been retained by Fawcett (1980:138).
257
to Apollonius (Robins 1967: 37). However, the validity of making this primary
division in clause types is not ensured by this long history. As Hakulinen &
Karlsson (1979: 94) themselves point out, the distinction is not clear-cut, and they
suggest that transitive and intransitive clauses could be combined into one basic
clause type (see also Leino 1991: 21 ff.). This suggestion will be adopted in this
study: transitive and intransitive clauses are conflated under the general category
of material process. However, despite this general agreement with Hakulinen &
Karlsson’s suggestion, there is a crucial difference between the description pro-
posed here and that suggested by Hakulinen and Karlsson. For them, a clause
such as Lapset ovat puistossa ‘The children are in the park’ is an intransitive
clause. As discussed in section 6.3.4, this is considered to be a circumstantial
relational clause in this study, and the transitive/intransitive distinction cannot be
applied to it. Moreover, processes related to human consciousness ) mental and
verbal processes (to be discussed in section 6.5) ) are distinguished from material
processes.
The round brackets indicate that the Goal is optional. The Actor is an inherent
(and obligatory) role in all material process except in meteorological and
experiencer process (which will be discussed below). Material processes typically
construe a doing or a happening. They can be probed by the questions mitä
tapahtui? ‘what happened’, mitä X teki (Y:lle) ‘what did X do (to Y)?’.
258
Before considering some of the grammatical features that clauses with mate-
rial processes have in common, it is important to note that material processes are
also defined in contrast to the other major process types. The over-riding feature
common to material processes is the fact that they differ from the relational pro-
cesses discussed in 6.3 and they differ from the mental and verbal processes that
are discussed in 6.5. Thus, for example, if there are two NPs in a material process,
the NPs would not agree in number, as is the case with intensive relational pro-
cesses. A feature that is shared by many mental processes is the fact that they
project: tiedän, että Eija lähtee ‘I know that Eija is leaving’. Projection is not a
typical feature of a material process.
in 103 ) 106, and it is only on the basis of our knowledge of what can count as a
minimal configuration that we can define a process type. For example:
In example 115, the process of ‘blooming’ is given a temporal extent (‘one night’)
and in example 116 the process of ‘running’ a spatial extent (‘the rest of the
way’).
While there are some differences between the case-marking of objects and
OSMAs, the similarities are striking, and this point is often emphasised by Finn-
ish linguists (Leino 1991: 181).
Because of these similarities, the term OSMA (where the “A” at the end
stands for “adverbial”) is misleading in that an OSMA in Finnish is not really a
subtype of adverbial, but more like an object. In traditional Latin-based grammars
of Indo-European languages, the object is seen as the entity to which an action is
“passed over” or extended (see e.g. Robins 1967: 37). An “object-like modifier”
also realizes an extension of the action ) its extension in space or time. The fact
that an NP realizing the Extent of the process is related to the NP realizing the
Goal (i.e. the object in a material process) is also evidenced by the fact that there
is a fuzzy line between the two. This is particularly true of NPs realizing the spa-
tial Extent of a process. The Extent in example 117 is similar the underlined NP is
the following example, which could be considered a Goal:
‘She has gone over (travelled through) the Far-East quite well’
The fact that both Extent and Goal can be realized in the one clause is an
indication that they are separate functions:
‘I’ve been scoffing those domino biscuits here all summer & autumn.’
263
Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979: 179) make a similar point: based on Siro (1964),
they argue that OSMAs and objects are distinct.
Another feature shared by the majority of material processes is that they can
take a -sti adverb of manner that modifies the temporal dimension of the process:
X lähti/meni/tuli/käveli/kävi kiireisesti/nopeasti.
X left/went/came/walked/visited hurriedly/quickly
X kuoli/söi hitaasti
X died/ate slowly
These adverbs are of course possible with a relational process that constructs a
change, i.e. a resultative process such as meistä tulee nopeasti kuuluisia ‘we
1
If a spatial Extent occurs with a verb that is typically associated with a relational or mental
process, I would argue that a material process is being construed.
264
shall quickly become famous’, but it is certainly not typical of a stative intensive
process such as he ovat kuuluisia ‘they’re famous’. Mental processes, on the
other hand, commonly occur with a -sti adverb and this is a reflection of the fact
that many mental processes have a material aspect to them.
A final feature to be discussed concerns the use of the so-called 3rd infini-
tive in the inessive. The stem of a verb that typically realizes a material process
can occur with a nominal affix in the inessive in response to the question Missä X
on? ‘Where is X?’:
The structures given in 123 and 124 are unlikely if the stem is a mental pro-
cess: Missä X on? ‘Where is X?’ ) ??X on ajattelemassa ‘X is [in the process of]
thinking’, ??X on tykkäämässä Sailasta ‘X is [in the process of] liking Saila’, or
??X on vihaamassa Sailaa ‘X is [in the process of] hating Saila’. There are, of
265
course, mental verbs like pohtia ‘ponder’ that can be construed as a material
process: He ovat pohtimassa asiaa ‘They’re deliberating over the matter’.1
The meaning of the clause type exemplified in 123 above is also dependent
on the meaning of 1) the verb stem, 2) other derivational affixes attached to the
verb and 3) the subject. In SF terms ) where lexicogrammar is seen as a contin-
uum from highly abstract to more specific meanings ) the clause-type 123 above
can be given a general and abstract meaning, as indicated above, but more deli-
cate morphological and lexical choices determine its more precise meaning. Thus,
for example, with Pommi on räjähtämässä 2 ‘The bomb is [in the process of]
exploding (i.e. it is about to explode)’ which realizes a material processes in
which the verb is an “achievement” verb ) in the sense of Dowty (1979) (based
on Vendler (1967)) ) i.e. it refers to something that happens instantaneously, the
clause refers to a process that is about to happen. (For further discussion, see
Heinämäki 1981, Brigden 1984: 193 ff., Maamies 1990: 85 ff.)
I shall not attempt an exhaustive analysis of the various subtypes of material pro-
cesses. However, I shall consider in some detail a number of basic subtypes of
material process, which I shall refer to as (i) meteorological, (ii) experiencer, and
(iii) behavioural processes. These particular subtypes are not more important or
more frequent that other subtypes of material processes, but (a) meteorological
and experiencer processes represent clause types that have been discussed by
Finnish linguists and (b) experiencer and behavioural processes represent a fuzzy
area between material and mental processes. Both meteorological and experiencer
processes differ from other material processes in that an Actor is not obligatory.
1
On the other hand, I would consider a verb like mietiskellä ‘to meditate’ to be a material
process. While it refers to a mental activity, the emphasis is on the activity, and for this
reason, it is construed like a material process.
2
Although this example has been used by Finnish linguists, it is perhaps more natural to say
Pommi on räjähtämäisillään ‘The bomb is about to explode’.
266
The verb in a meteorological process is always in the third person singular. There
is no Actor in the clause, and, thus, a meteorological process can be minimally
realized by the Process alone:
(125) Sataa.
rain+3SG
‘It’s raining.’
However, like other material processes, they can be modified by a -sti adverb,
(e.g. sataa rankasti ‘It’s raining hard’) and they can be given a temporal Extent
(e.g. satoi koko viikon ‘It rained all week’).
The NP realizing the Experiencer often (though by no means always) precedes the
verb.
268
In spite of the fact that the finite verb often contains a causative affix
(-tta/ttä-) ) as in 129 and 130 above ) there is no Instigator in the clause, i.e.
nothing in the clause to indicate what is bringing about the process (of being an-
noyed, itching etc.) in the clauses above. However it is possible to add one, in
which case it has traditionally been referred to as the grammatical subject:
‘Just thinking about it wore me out/I was worn out by the thought of it.’
The fact that the final NP is the grammatical subject is evidenced by the fact that
in standardized written Finnish, there is agreement between a plural NP and the
finite verb.
tässä maassa.
this+INE country+INE
(NR)
construed like internal activities, as evidenced by the fact that the finite verb often
contains a causative affix.
In the examples given so far, the NP realizing the Experiencer has preceded
the verb. It is also possible for it to follow the verb, e.g. Presidentti Koiviston
käyttäytyminen ihmetytti Moskovaa ‘President Koivisto’s behaviour surprised
Moscow’. This brings in the question of whether experiencer processes are simply
textual variants of material processes. While it may be valid to argue along these
lines, it seems to me that they can be regarded as a distinct sub-type on the basis
of the fact that the realization of an Instigator is not textually conditioned. The
fact that this process can be realized with only one inherent role is an inherent
characteristic of an experiencer process.
Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979: 98-99), in their analysis of what they also
refer to as “experiencer clauses” (Finnish: kokijalause), include not only causa-
tives of feeling, but also a number of subtypes that are grammatically quite differ-
ent from each other, but linked by the fact that the initial constituent is seen as
some kind of experiencer. Firstly, their analysis refers to the following as an
experiencer clause.
In this study, clauses of this type are considered to be relational processes (pos-
sessive processes) (see 6.3.4.(iii)). Secondly, they include a number of fossilized,
idiom-like clause-types. In these the initial nominal is in the genitive and the verb
is always in the third person singular:
270
The analysis of the these clauses with the initial nominal in the genitive is
problematic. As Hakulinen & Karlsson point out in a footnote, it is also possible
to regard some modal constructions in Finnish as experiencer clauses. In a partic-
ular type of modal clause referred to as a “necessitative construction” in tradi-
tional grammars of Finnish, the initial nominal is also in the genitive and the verb
is always in the third person singular:
Examples such as 135 ) 137 are construed as non-volitional events that af-
fect the genitive participant. The participant is “controlled” by force of circum-
stance or by an automatic or instinctive response. The clauses contrast with the
following clauses:2
Rather than regard examples such as 135 and 136 as another subtype of experien-
cer clause, they can be regarded as expressions of modality in Finnish, if modality
is understood in the sense that it is used by Halliday (1985a: 85 ff., 334 ff; Halli-
day in Kress (ed.) 1976: 189-213) to refer to the semantics of personal participa-
tion. Halliday sees modality in terms of a number of scales: probability, usuality,
obligation and inclination. Of these scales, usuality and obligation are not usually
included in logically based analyses of modality (e.g. Lyons 1977b: 787 ff.).
Halliday’s scale of inclination appears to be particularly relevant to the grammar
of personal participation as realized in the examples above, although the scale
itself and its application would have to be re-thought for Finnish. Both examples
135 and 136 above could be seen in terms of inclination.
1
The case-marking of an object in a clause in which there is a genitive NP differs from
“ordinary” clauses with a grammatical subject. As illustrated by 102 above, the object is in
the nominative rather than in the genitive.
2
This comparison is not meant to imply some kind of simple transformation. Moreover, there
are certain meanings that are generally always construed as non-volitional e.g. m(in)un täytyy
aivastaa ‘I’ve got to sneeze’.
272
In Hakulinen & Karlsson’s view, experiencer clauses also include the clause
type Minun on jano ‘I’m thirsty’, a slightly archaic variant of the possessive
clause in which the initial nominal is in the genitive. There are a number of other
common expressions like this which do not have an archaic flavour about them,
for example, M(in)un on hyvä olla ‘I feel good’, Mikä Leilan on? [what/which
Leila +GEN be-3SG ] ‘What’s up with Leila?’. These do not display the same kind
of variation indicated above (minä) lähden ‘I’m leaving’ ~ Minun täytyy lähteä
‘I’ve got to leave’ and can be considered variants of possessive processes (see
6.3.4.(iii)).
(143) mut kyl seki oli semmosta et -- asiakas tuli puhuun mulle ruotsia [TIIN3b:8]
‘but then it was like -- a customer would come and speak to me in Swedish’
mä puhuin suomea
I-NOM speak+PAS+1SG Finnish+PAR
Ac Pro:mat:beh Range
‘I spoke (in) Finnish.’
Behavioural processes are more like material processes in that they construe
activities in the external world, and like other material activities, they can be
probed by mitä X teki? ‘What did X do?’. In example 143 above, it would have
been possible to respond to asiakas tuli puhuun mulle ruotsia ‘a customer would
come and speak to me in Swedish’ by asking mitä sä sitten teit? ‘what did you do
then?’. Behavioural processes can be modified by an adverb of manner like
nopeasti ‘quickly’ or hitaasti ‘slowly’: puhua nopeasti ‘speak quickly’, soittaa
nopeasti ‘play [an instrument] quickly’ and it is not unusual for the verb stem to
occur in the inessive hän on puhumassa Annen kanssa ‘(s)he’s speaking with
Anne’.
Mental processes are concerned with the internal world of human consciousness,
and, in fact, another possible label for this process type is “processes of human
consciousness”. From a more philosophical perspective, of course, all of language
can be seen as being intimately linked with human consciousness. This section,
however, is concerned with the way in which human consciousness is realized in
language, with the way in which processes of saying, thinking, sensing, feeling,
perceiving, and reacting are construed in Finnish. Mental processes in this study
constitute a superordinate category that covers processes concerned with both the
internal consciousness of the human mind and external verbalized consciousness.
A similar superordinate category appears in Matthiessen’s (1989) description of
English. At a greater degree of delicacy, one would need to distinguish various
subtypes. For example, Matthiessen (1989) distinguishes mental, perceptive, reac-
tive and verbal processes in English.
‘you can hear the song of a nightingale in (/coming from) a tree in the garden’
‘and from your window you can see a family of elk swimming across the inlet.’
mä pääsen [TP1:12]
I-NOM get out/into+1SG
(Material process)
**
‘and then I said when (at what time) I’d be getting out/finishing’
276
These semi-transitive verbs can be characterized by the fact that they are different
from transitive verbs: in traditional terms, they do not take an object:
Thus, the choice between the partitive and the other grammatical cases is not
available and distinctions in boundedness cannot be made. The fact that these
verbs do not take an object seems highly significant: mental processes are not
constructed as processes that involve a change or an activity in the external, ma-
terial world.1
However, there are many verbs that refer to saying, thinking, sensing, feel-
ing, perceiving, and reacting in Finnish, and yet they “take an object”. These in-
clude verbs like tietää ‘(to) know [a fact]’, tuntea ‘(to) know [a person]’, rakas-
taa ‘(to) love’, nähdä ‘(to) see’, ajatella ‘(to) think’, unohtaa ‘(to) forget’, muis-
taa ‘(to) remember’, haluta ‘(to) want’ etc. Many of these differ from material
processes in much the same way as these processes in which there is a “semi-tran-
sitive” verb. The Phenomenon in these instances is typically (and often almost
invariably) either in the partitive or in the nominative/genitive/accusative:
Nevertheless, there are other verbs that have features of both mental and
material processes in Finnish. The verb rakastaa ‘(to) love’, for example, typi-
cally construes a non-bounded process: the Phenomenon is almost always real-
ized by an NP in the partitive.
1
While many reactive verbs (e.g. rakastua ‘to fall in love’, kyllästyä ‘get/be fed up’) can be
regarded as involving a change in the state of the person undergoing the process, they are not
construed as material changes in the external world, i.e. changes to which aspectual
distinctions and distinctions in total and partial quantity can normally be applied.
278
(153) Mä rakastan sua. [AR:38]
I-NOM love+1SG you(sg)+PAR
Sen Pro:men + Sen Phen
‘I love you.’
However, the verb rakastaa ‘(to) love’ can also realize a material process in the
following ) rather unusual ) type of context:
Thus mental processes can be distinguished by the fact that the Phenomenon
or Verbiage is not case-marked like an object in a material process: either the NP
does not display the same kind of variation in case-marking as an NP realizing the
Goal in a material process or it is realized by an NP in one of the locative cases.
Mental process can also be negatively defined with respect to some features of
material processes: for example, the stem of a verb that typically realizes a mental
process is unlikely to occur in the syntagm Hän on ___ massa/mässä ‘(S)he is
(in the process of) ___ ing’ in response to the question Mitä hän tekee ‘What is
(s)he doing?’. Another significant feature associated with mental processes,
which distinguishes them from material processes, is that they can project. Projec-
tion will be discussed in the next section.
6.5.3.
6.5.4. Human Consciousness and Projection
As discussed in 4.5.5 (p. 159 ff.), projection in SF theory does not only refer to
what is traditionally labelled direct and indirect speech. It refers to the fact that a
clause or a non-finite clause ) instead of being a direct representation of reality )
is at a further remove from the reality. It seems natural that a category of mental
processes ) processes of human consciousness ) allow us to reflect on reality
through the resources of projection.
279
PHENOMENON:
MACROPHENOMENON:
METAPHENOMENON:
‘I told him “Remember my saying [say that I’ve told you] ‘your ground water will dry up
on you’”.
281
This last example is further complicated by the fact that the second clause con-
tains a nonfinite clause, a macrophenomenon, mun sanoneen ‘my saying’, which
contains a non-finite form of the verbal process sano- ‘say’, which, in turn, pro-
jects another clause, sulta loppuu pohjavedet ‘your ground water will dry up on
you’.
‘I’ve thought precisely that ) that it would be awful to sleep in’ (The context here is: it
would be awful to sleep in if you had to go on a trip.)
The English translations of these obscure the fact that the Phenomenon is realized
by a pronoun followed by an embedded clause.
‘if you’re increasingly afraid that your condition is deteriorating (that you’re not getting
into better shape)’
‘Here (in Finland) they feel that they’re better than the rest [they experience a feeling of
being better than the rest].’
‘Telegin immediately realized that he had bumped into an exceptionally gifted person.’
1
This is a somewhat misleading term, as many of the verbs that occur in the “matrix clause”
are difficult to imagine in terms of a report or a quote.
283
The finite verb here tuntua ‘to seem/feel’ was one of the verbs included among
sensory attributive processes. Like näyttää ‘look/seem/appear’ and vaikuttaa
‘seem’, which were also included among sensory attributive processes, it often
realizes a mental process. In fact, it could be argued that the sensory processes
outlined in 6.3.1.(iii) are, in some respects, like relational processes and in other
respects like mental processes.
As examples 160 ) 163 illustrate, the projecting verb includes not only
verbs of saying and thinking, but also other verbs related to human experience,
e.g. kokea ‘to experience’, pelätä ‘to be afraid’. It need not necessarily refer to
what “someone has said or thought”; as pointed out in 4.5.5 (p. 159), projection
in general should not be understood in simplistic terms as referring to what
“someone has said or thought”. The following verbs occurred with a participial
construction in the HKV corpus (see appendix 2):
ajatella ‘to think’, arvata ‘to guess’, arvioida ‘to guess/estimate’, haluta ‘to want’, huoma-
ta ‘to notice’, ilmoittaa ‘to announce’, julistaa ‘to proclaim’, katsoa ‘to see/regard’, kertoa
‘to tell/relate’, kiistää ‘to deny/argue against’, korostaa ‘to stress’, kuvitella ‘to imagine’,
luulla ‘to think/feel’, kokea ‘to experience’, kuulla ‘to hear’, muistaa ‘to remember’, myön-
tää ‘admit/concede’, naureksia ‘to laugh’, nähdä ‘to see’, odottaa ‘to expect’, olettaa ‘to
assume’, osoittaa ‘to indicate’, otaksua ‘to assume, suppose’, painottaa ‘to stress’, pelätä
‘to be afraid’, povata ‘to forecast’, sanoa ‘to say’, sopia ‘to agree’, suunnitella ‘to plan’,
tietää ‘to know’, todeta ‘to confirm, verify’, todistaa ‘to prove’, tulkita ‘to interpret’,
tunnustaa ‘to confess’, tuntea ‘to feel’, uskoa ‘to believe’, väittää ‘to claim’.
I am not suggesting that these are the only verbs that realize mental processes, nor
that these verbs always realize a mental process. This list is simply to give some
indication of the kind of verb that is likely to realize a mental process.
284
The major process types outlined above present the bare outlines of experiential
structures in the Finnish clause: each process type needs to be analysed in much
greater delicacy. However, the outline given above provides some indication of
the experiential meaning potential at clause rank in Finnish. While the
lexicogrammatical resources of a language enable us to make certain meanings,
language as a system is not a static reservoir of pre-determined meanings. A per-
vasive semiotic resource in language is metaphor.
categories of tense, polarity and so on, while the process itself is encoded as a
nominal group functioning as a Range”.
(165) Opiskelija Jussi Virtanen, 21, katosi lauantaina vastaisena yönä 7. syyskuuta Viking
Linen risteilijä Mariellalta.
Jussi Virtanen, a student, 21, disappeared during the early hours of Saturday morning,
7. September, on the Viking Line cruiser Mariella.
‘It is estimated that the disappearance happened between three and four o’clock.’
Grammatical metaphor also has the effect of objectifying and distancing the
author from the event (cf. Eggins et al. 1987, Martin 1991). Something like a
murder or a disappearance, which in the extralinguistic world is a process )
something that happens in time rather than a concrete entity ) is constructed or
286
talouselämässä heikkenee
economy+life+INE weaken+3SG
* Pro:mat *
b. ja reformiajattelu voimistuu.
& reform+thinking+NOM strengthen+3SG
Ac * Pro:mat *
kuljettaessa. ]]
travel+INDEF+INF+INE
[HS 1.9.91:A2]
‘The roughest patches in the transitional stage are, nevertheless, still ahead as they
travel along the road to economic reform (~ the road to economic reform is travelled
along).’
287
(167) Antropologian ja naistutkimuksen välinen
anthropology+GEN & female+research+GEN intermediary+NOM
* Ac
‘The creative tension between anthropology and feminist studies is created by an interest
in both disciplines in sameness (similarity), on the one hand, and differentness (differ-
ence), on the other hand.’
Examples 166a, 166b and 167 have a fairly uncomplicated grammatical pattern in
which the finite verb realizes a material process. Yet, to unpackage the metaphors
and put them in a more congruent form that could be understood by a child would
be quite a feat. The second sentence in example 166 (clause c) continues in the
same metaphorical vein; however, it is not an example of grammatical metaphor
but of lexical metaphor. It is slightly more complicated in that it includes an em-
bedded non-finite clause.
Writing puts language in chains; it freezes it, so that it becomes a thing to be reflected on.
Hence it changes the ways that language is used for meaning with.
Until information can be organized and packaged in this way ) so that only the initiate under-
stands it ) knowledge cannot accumulate, since there is no way one discourse can start where
the other ones left off. When I can say
the random fluctuations in the spin components of one of the two particles
I am packaging the knowledge that has developed over a long series of preceding arguments
and presenting it as “to be taken for granted ) now we can proceed to the next step”. If I
cannot do this, but have to say every time that particles spin, that they spin in three dimen-
sions, that a pair of particles can spin in association with one another, that each one of the pair
fluctuates randomly as it is spinning, and so on, then it is clear that I will never get very far.
Halliday (1985a: 144 ff.) discusses English in terms of the generalized functions
(or macro-roles) Medium and Agent. The macro-roles that I postulate for Finnish
are Medium and Domain. I use cursive script to underscore the fact that these
macro-roles are at a higher level of abstraction than the roles discussed earlier in
this chapter. Thus both Medium and Domain can be seen as generalized catego-
ries that are further specified in a particular lexicogrammatical environment. The
Medium in Finnish subsumes the Carrier or Identified in an intensive relational
process, the Located in a circumstantial relational process, the Actor in a material
1
However, when complex grammatical metaphor occurs in a text that is meant for the non-
initiate, then it is self-defeating, if this is used as the principal means of initiation into a
subject (see, for example, Karvonen’s (1991, 1992) analysis of Finnish textbooks for school-
children).
289
process, and the Sayer or Senser in a mental process. The realization of the Me-
dium is complex in Finnish, and will be discussed more fully in Chapter 7. Suf-
fice to say here that it can be realized by what has traditionally been referred to as
the grammatical subject or by a bound morpheme (personal ending) attached to
the verb. For example:
1
In an identifying clause where both NPs are in the nominative (e.g. Kansallisteatterin
Markiisitar on Eeva-Kaarina Volanen ‘The National Theatre’s marchioness is Eeva-Kaarina
Volanen’) there are no grammatical criteria that can be appealed to in determining which NP
is the subject. On the other hand the question of which NP is the subject (and thus which NP
realizes the Medium is immaterial in such a clause since the point of the clause is to equate
the NPs. Cf. Kelomäki (1988: 67 ff.).
290
The other macro-role that is proposed for Finnish will be referred to as the
Domain.1 The Domain subsumes the Goal in a material process, the Experiencer
in an experiencer process, the Range in a behavioural process, the Qualifier of the
process in a meteorological process, the Phenomenon in a mental process, and the
Verbiage in a verbal process:
1
Finnish: ‘piiri, ulottuvuus’.
291
The Domain refers to the sphere of influence of the process: the entity that is
affected by the process or the entity to which the process is extended. The NP
realizing the Domain does not agree with the verb in number or person. It is in
one of the grammatical cases (see Figure 3-7, p. 84): the nominative, genitive or
partitive case. Human pronouns are either accusative or partitive.
1
This form of mä ‘I’ is Häme dialect.
292
1
It appears to be prototypical in the sense that it corresponds to an existential clause in
English, Swedish and French.
293
In what follows, I shall briefly outline some of the features of those clauses
that are generally referred to as existential clauses by Finnish linguists. I shall
then discuss the features that existential subjects and objects have in common.
The “subject” of this existential clause is unlike the constituent that has been re-
ferred to as the grammatical subject in this study. The grammatical subject is al-
ways in the nominative case and it (generally) agrees with the verb in number and
person. The “existential subject”, on the other hand, can be in the nominative but
it can also be in the partitive. The following existential clauses are reminiscent of
English existential clauses. I have underlined the “existential subject”.
1
Chesterman uses the term “expression”. The SF term realization (2.4.7) is more appropriate
in that it means that there cannot be “what is being expressed” without “expression” (cf.
Saussure’s signifiant and signifié). If, for example, in a fictitious world where English and
the English-speaking world were replaced by languages in which there were no definite and
indefinite articles, then it would be unlikely that definiteness would be an issue in Finnish
linguistics.
294
(180) Niin kauan kuin minulla on sinut [From T. Itkonen 1979: 83.]
as long as I+ADE is+3SG you+ACC
‘As long as I’ve got you,
As in other existential clauses, the pronoun would be in the partitive if the polar-
ity is negative.
‘Now that there have been quite a few new people who’ve moved into this (apartment)
house, well they certainly chat with me.’ [CA8:12]
295
Other verbs can also occur in an existential clause and the existential subject can
also come at the beginning of the clause:
In the following example from Hakanen (1972), the verb is even modified by a -
sti adverb:
(188) [Keskiasteen oppilaitoksia ei ole tarpeeksi. ‘There are not enough upper secondary and
vocational schools.’]
Example 188 is from a newspaper and is taken from an article by Karlsson (1978:
297). In both examples, 187 and 188, the pronoun niitä ‘they-(PARTITIVE)’ is an
“existential subject”. It is, however, anaphoric in both examples: in example 187
it is co-referential with masennuksii ‘(periods) of depression’ and in example it is
co-referential with keskiasteen oppilaitoksia ‘middle-stage schools’. Thus, the
existential subject cannot necessarily be equated with the New element in the
clause.1
1
Moreover, the functions Given and New are not only applicable to existential clauses, but
to all clauses.
297
time. The clause Puistossa on/leikkii lapsia [park +IN E be+3SG /play+3SG
child +PL+PAR ‘In the park (there are) children/ children playing’ indicate con-
strues a relational process (on ‘be’) or a material process (leikkii ‘plays’), and the
entity which is included in the domain of this process (lapsia ‘children’).
The crucial border in Finnish ... is one separating the subject of “non-existential” or “normal”
sentences from both the subject of “existential” sentences and the object, with concomitant
differences in the form of the finite verb (T. Itkonen 1979: 79-80).
1
Itkonen’s analysis seems to have been inspired by Comrie (1975). As Comrie’s analysis is
less developed and overlooks some features of Finnish, I shall refer only to Itkonen’s analysis.
298
(189) At the beginning of a new section of a chapter of the novel Sinuhe, egyptiläinen (Sinuhe
the Egyptian) by Mika Waltari:
Niin laskematon on ihmisen mieli ja siinä määrin oli faraon totuus sokaissut minut, etten
aavistanut mitään pahaa, vaikka paahtavassa päivässä viipyi yhä kytevien raunioiden sau-
hua ja virrasta nousi ruumiiden haju. Sillä oinasten valtatie oli liputettu kirjavin viirein ja
ihmisjoukot reunustivat sitä määrättöminä nähdäkseen faraon ja -
‘So incalculable is the human mind and the Pharaoh’s truth had blinded me to such an
extent that I had no premonition that all is not well, although in the heat of the day there
still lingered the smoke from smouldering ruins and the smell of corpses rose from the
river. Since the Road of the Rams was decked with colourful flags and crowds of people
lined the road in order to see the Pharaoh and’
1
Itkonen does not consider what is referred to as the complement (predikatiivi) in traditional
grammar, although it too has some of the features of a Domain. Like an object and an
existential subject, the complement can be in the nominative, partitive or genitive and it does
not trigger agreement with the verb. The complement, however, is unaffected by the polarity
of the verb, and a human pronoun is the grammatical subject in instances such as Se olet sinä
‘It’s you’.
299
As pointed out earlier, the existential subject cannot simply be equated with New.
In the clause ihmisjoukot reunustivat sitä ‘crowds of people lined it (the road)’
from this example (189) the NP ihmisjoukot ‘crowds of people’ is New; there had
been no mention of ihmisjoukot ‘crowds of people’ earlier in the passage. Yet this
NP is not an “existential subject”, but an ordinary subject: it is in the nominative
and agrees with the verb in person and number.
Existential sentence is a label for intransitive sentences which, without foregoing presup-
positions, express the existence of the subject, its coming into existence, its cessation of
existence, or an essential change in state ) usually from the standpoint of location in its wid-
est sense. [Emphasis added.]
order to see the Pharaoh’. In the clause poikia oli kiivennyt puihin ‘boys had
climbed into the trees’, the existential subject poikia ‘boys’, on the other hand, is
construed as something whose presence is not assumed. Thus the partitive NP in
an existential clause construes an entity (or entities) whose presence is not as-
sumed.
1
Here I am assuming that the New element normally comes at the end of the tone group in
Finnish (see Chapter 7).
301
Halliday (1985a: 151) distinguishes between middle clauses (the glass broke, the
baby sat up, the boy ran) and effective clauses, which have the feature ‘agency’.
Effective clauses are either active (the heat broke the glass, Jane sat the baby
up, the lion chased the boy) or passive (the glass was broken (by the cat)). The
kinds of distinctions that Halliday is referring to here are realized in Finnish by
derivational affixes in the verb, although the distinctions that are made in the
grammar of Finnish are, of course, different from those made in English.
1
See also Kulonen 1989: 29 ff.
303
sleep etc. One can say kukka kuihtui ‘the flower wilted’ even if this happened
because the speaker did not water it. Processes with an automative affix are con-
strued in the semantics of Finnish as having been self-engendered.
causative affix, yet there is no external causation. As Halliday points out in the
quotation above (p. 301), from the perspective of English, either a process is self-
engendering, and occurs without an Agent, or it is engendered from the outside,
in which case there is an external agent. Experiencer processes in Finnish are a
clear indication of the ambivalence of many basic physical and emotional human
processes: on the one hand, emotions are construed as not being self-engendered
and, on the other hand, they need not necessarily be caused by an external Agent.
In other words, the Experiencer in an experiencer process is affected by a process
that can take place without a specific instigator. As pointed out in 6.4.3.(ii), how-
ever, an Instigator can be added to an experiencer clause.
Within the framework presented here, it could be argued that the indefinite (pas-
sive) morpheme realizes an unspecified human Medium (see Shore 1986, 1988).
Thus, an indefinite clause is not necessarily effective in Finnish. It typically con-
strues a process that involves unspecified participants, and these participants must
305
be human.1 Of course, an indefinite clause can have the feature of ‘agency’ ) and
many indefinite clauses do have this feature ) but this is not a mandatory feature
of an indefinite clause. The indefinite as a means of introducing a feature of exter-
nal human agency is clearest in those process types that are inherently agentless,
for example, resultative intensive processes. As discussed in 6.3.1.(iii), a resulta-
tive clause has the structure X+ ELAT IVE tulla ‘come’ Y in Finnish, e.g. Minusta
tulee taitelija ‘I’m going to be an artist’. If the intransitive verb tulla ‘come’ is
replaced by an effective indefinite verb, an additional feature of external human
agency is added to the clause:
Similarly, in the following example, the resultative process X+ ELAT IVE tulla
‘come’ Y is construed as being brought about by human forces:
(198) [Koulussa mä joskus leuhkin poikakavereista, mutta paskat ei mulla semmoista ole.
‘At school I sometimes brag about my boyfriends, but shit I haven’t got any.’]
1
Thus, the English clauses The glass was broken by the cat and The tree was blown down by
the wind would not be translated by an indefinite in Finnish.
306
English does not correspond to the distinction between indefinite and non-indefi-
nite clauses in Finnish. There are also other derivational affixes that need to be
considered in a more delicate description, e.g. the reflexive (-utu-/-yty-,
kirjoi+tta+utu+a ‘to write oneself, i.e. to register’, cf. kirjoittaa ‘to write’). Re-
cent discussions by Finnish linguists of automative, causative and reflexive
derivational affixes include Koivisto 1991, Kulonen-Korhonen 1985, Kytömäki
1989 and Räisänen 1988.
This chapter has been concerned with the experiential meanings that are con-
strued at the rank of clause in Finnish. Finnish process types were grouped under
three superordinate process types: relational, material and mental (where mental
refers to processes of human consciousness). The process types were not seen as
discrete and absolute, but as overlapping, and an attempt was made to show the
prototypical grammatical and semantic features shared by each process type. The
notion of grammatical metaphor was also discussed and applied to experiential
meanings at clause rank. The macro-roles Medium and Domain were postulated
on the basis of grammatical criteria that has been put forward by T. Itkonen. In
the final section, some indication was given of how the semantics of the engen-
dering of a process is construed through derivational affixes in Finnish. What is
referred to as the passive in Finnish, on the other hand, does not construe distinc-
tions relating to whether the process is self-engendered or externally engendered,
but is seen as a parallel option realizing an unspecified, human Medium.
307
Chapter 7
Textual Structures in the Finnish Clause
7.1. Overview
The chapter is concerned with the organization of the clause as a message, with
the way in which textual meanings are realized in the clause. According to
Matthiessen & Halliday (forthcoming, section 2.1):
The role of the textual metafunction is an enabling one. It serves to enable the presentation of
ideational and interpersonal meaning as text in context. While the ideational and interpersonal
metafunctions orient towards first-order reality ) reality that exists independently of language
) the textual metafunction orients towards the reality brought into existence by language
itself, viz. second-order, symbolic reality.
As Matthiessen & Halliday emphasise, however, this does not mean that the tex-
tual metafunction comes into operation only after ideational and interpersonal
meanings have been created. These different strands of meaning are simulta-
neously realized in the clause.
SF theory assumes that there are two kinds of textual meaning that are real-
ized in any language: Given-New and Theme-Rheme. These two kinds of mean-
ing are independently variable: although Given and Theme may be conflated,
they need not necessarily be conflated. Given and New are functions in the infor-
mation unit, which Halliday (1967c, 1985a) assumes is realized in the tone group.
While a detailed analysis of information structure in Finnish is beyond the scope
of this study, since this would entail a comprehensive phonetic and phonological
analysis of Finnish, there will be some preliminary discussion of Given and New
in the next section (7.2) since in the interest of clarity, it is worthwhile making
explicit what is meant by these terms since the discussion of Theme-Rheme struc-
tures presupposes some familiarity with the way in which Given and New is de-
fined in SF theory. The section on Given and New includes a short section (7.2.3)
308
on the way in which segmental elements ) e.g. word order, focusing particles etc.
) serve as indicators of information structure in Finnish.
Brown and Yule then apply the categories of information status thus defined
to the analysis of data and look at how, for example, a brand new entity is real-
ized linguistically. Their data is drawn from artificial experiments (see Yule
1981) in which participant A has a drawing (of lines, squares, circles etc.), which
participant B cannot see. Participant B has a paper and a red and black pen, and
through interaction with A, B is expected to reproduce the drawing. Since in an
artificial situation like this ) which is rarely, if ever, repeated in real life ) one
can, to a large extent, determine the information status of entities, one can then
look at how these categories of entity are expressed linguistically. Brown and
Yule correlate the information status of these entities with 1) linguistic features
associated with the phrase in English (definite or indefinite article, pronominal
reference, ellipsis) and 2) phonological prominence.
Another problem that Brown and Yule (1983: 187) illustrate with another text, a
recipe, is that “brand new” entities can be expressed by a nominal with either an
indefinite or a definite article:
(1) a. Slice the onion finely, brown in the butter and then place in a small dish
b. ... add to the fat in the pan
c. ... and boil for twenty minutes with the lid on the pan.
Even if these were to be treated as inferable rather than brand new entities, ac-
cording to Brown and Yule, the problem remains that they are not treated in the
same way. They conclude that the only way of assessing the information status
attributed by a writer or speaker is in the form of the expression produced.
The problem with Brown & Yule’s analysis is that they postulate meanings
associated with information status that are independent of language. These pre-
determined meanings are expressed by definite or indefinite NPs (a/the square),
pronominal reference and ellipsis (it, 0/ ), and phonological prominence. When one
begins to look at the formal distinctions that are made in a language, then prob-
lems begin to arise, as in the case of the definite and indefinite articles above.
Either one assumes that speakers or writers are inconsistent in the way in which
they express these predetermined meanings, which is the only recourse that
Brown and Yule have, or one abandons the approach that leads to these inconsis-
tencies.
As for Given and New, Halliday does not assume we can come up with a
“rigorous definition”, as Yule (1981: 42) seems to assume, or that they can be
defined extralinguistically in terms of shared knowledge. For Halliday (1985a:
275), Given and New, and the meanings of Given and New, are inextricably tied
up with prosodic features of the tone group in English. In each tone group there is
a foot or syllable that carries the main pitch movement (rise or fall or change in
direction). This foot or syllable is referred to as the tonic element, and this
prosodic feature (i.e. pitch movement) is referred to as tonic prominence. The
tonic element is said to carry the information focus. In Halliday’s view, it marks
where the New element ends.1
(3) // 4 v well they could / make the / credit mark fi / fifty // (Halliday 1967: 49.)
1
For notational conventions, see Appendix 5. The numbers refer to the tones of English
distinguished by Halliday: tone 1 is a falling tone, the unmarked statement tone, and tone 4
is a falling-rising tone, often associated with contrasts, reservations or conditions.
312
The meaning of Given is “this is not news”, and the meaning of New is “attend to
this, this is news” (Halliday 1985a: 277). This is in accord with Brown & Yule’s
(1983: 164) characterization: “phonological prominence has a general Watch this!
function”).
sive phonetic and phonological analysis of conversational Finnish, along the lines
suggested by Halliday (1967c). While, as already mentioned, such a phonetic
analysis is beyond the scope of this study, I shall make a few preliminary com-
ments and observations.
There are basic prosodic differences between Finnish and English. In terms
of the broad ) and somewhat over-simplified ) division made between syllable-
timed and foot-timed (or stress-timed) languages, Finnish has traditionally been
regarded as having syllable-timed rhythm (Hackman 1978, Nevalainen 1990:
238). The tones in Finnish are also bound to be different. For example, the un-
marked realization of a polar interrogative (functioning as a question) in English
is a rising tone (tone 2; see Halliday 1985a: 284), whereas, in Finnish, a polar
interrogative (functioning as a question) is generally realized with a higher initial
pitch level than a corresponding declarative (functioning as a statement) (see
Hirvonen 1970; Iivonen et al. 1987: 239 ff.).
On the other hand, while Halliday (1985a) makes no claims about the uni-
versality of the way in which Given-New structures are realized in the tone group
in his analysis of English, very similar kinds of comments concerning the func-
tion of tonic prominence in Finnish have been made by Finnish phoneticians, e.g.
Iivonen et al. (1987: 229 ff.), Nevalainen (1990). In a study that contrasts English
and Finnish prosody, Nevalainen (1990: 243) states:
We can distinguish three kinds of information focus that are signalled by prosodic means:
focus for new information, focus for contrast and focus for emphasis. In both languages, a
new information focus is usually placed on the last lexical item of the intonation unit, and
contains what in British literature is called the nuclear or tonic syllable. Contrastive and em-
phatic focus may vary positionally, and show more extreme prosodic contrasts in both lan-
guages.
However, rather than talk about variation in pitch, Finnish phoneticians generally
refer to stress or accentuation, i.e. a combination of higher than normal pitch,
increased intensity, extended duration and clearer articulation, not all of which
need necessarily be present (Iivonen 1976: 39; Iivonen et al. 1987: 229 ff.;
Nevalainen 1990). Moreover, in accordance with traditional terminology, they
314
(4) // .. silver / needs to have / love // (Halliday 1985a: 276, 283, 346)
(i) -----------------------------------> New
(ii) Given --------------------------> New
(iii) Given -----------> * --------> New
However, it is usually only in linguistics and philosophy that one comes across
bits of text out of context; in real life, there is other evidence for determining the
information structure. In the context of this example (see 2 above), we know that
silver is Given as it had just been mentioned.
Thus, according to Halliday (1985a: 276-277), the unmarked position for the
New element is at the end of the information unit. It is possible, however, for
New material to come at the beginning of the information unit, in which case it is
contrastive. It seems to me that these comments are also valid for Finnish, al-
though the position of a contrastive focus seems to be more variable in Finnish.
This is reflected in the fact that the focusing particle -kin (see next section) can
occur in various positions in the tone group. Another point made by Halliday that
1
Cf. however, Halliday (1985a: 276) who shows how the pre-tonic and variation in rhythm
in English can be an index of the Given-New structure before the tonic element.
315
is also important in the analysis of Finnish is that there are a number of elements
in language that are typically Given: 1) anaphoric elements, i.e. those that refer to
things previously mentioned and 2) deictic elements, i.e. those that refer to the
here and now of the speech situation. Thus items like I, you, here and tomorrow
would only carry information focus if contrastive. In example 2a, repeated below
as 5, the demonstrative this is focused because it is contrastive:
The discussion of Given and New, so far, has been confined to their realiza-
tion in the tone group. A tone group is not the same thing as a clause. A clause,
being a unit of lexicogrammar, consists of phrases, words and morphemes, while
a tone group, a phonological unit, consists of feet and syllables. These categories
represent different orders of abstraction. However, there are many instances in
which a clause realized in spoken text conflates with a tone group, and this pro-
vides us with a link between grammatical structures in the clause and Given-New
structures in the tone group. The conflation ) or near conflation1 ) of clause and
tone group can, thus, be regarded as unmarked (Halliday 1985a: 59), i.e. as dis-
cussed in Chapter 5, this can be regarded as “a baseline”.
If we assume that the tone group conflates with a clause in unmarked instances,
then the unmarked order in the tone group also serves as a base for the unmarked
order in a written text. Given Nevalainen’s (1990: 243) observation quoted on
page 313 above about the similarity between Finnish and English, then we would
1
Even in instances where clause and tone group more or less correspond to each other, the
boundaries do not always exactly match because a tone group, as defined by Halliday, begins
with a salient beat (or a silent one).
316
normally expect New material to come at the end of a clause in a written text in
both languages. Without any indication to the contrary, we would expect the New
element to come at the end in the following example.
If this were part of a script for a play, we would assume that the tonic prominence
falls on the last word: mä lähen lenkille. This would be the unmarked “reading”
of the information structure of this written fragment.
1
Iivonen et al. (1987: 233), however, claim that they are “common” in spoken Finnish.
317
In this example, the first syllable of the word to which -kin was attached was
marked as being stressed or prominent by the transcriber, which, as noted above
(p. 313) can refer to any or all of a number of features (pitch, intensity, duration,
clearer articulation) in the Finnish tradition. I did not perceive the syllables in
question as stressed, but I did perceive pitch variation. In Speaker B’s turn in this
example, lähen lenkille is Given since it repeats what Speaker A has said. The
first person pronoun is deictic, and, therefore typically Given, but it is contrastive,
it is what the listener is being asked to attend to: “you’re going for a jog and so
am I”.
Like other focus particles, the suffix -kin directs us to “read” the information
structure in a certain way. Thus if the clause mäkin lähen lenkille had occurred in
a written text, the suffix -kin would have directed us to “read” the information
structure in the way indicated in 7 above. The suffix -kin is particularly important
in written Finnish ) in the “cat text” analysed in Appendix 1, for example, there
are 83 orthographical sentences and 16 occurrences of -kin or -kaan.1 Because
Finnish linguists and phoneticians generally talk about stress, rather than tonic
prominence, the suffix -kin is not always associated with prosodic features of the
tone group. For example, Vilppula (1984: 58) in an otherwise insightful discus-
sion of -kin assumes that the examples he discusses (all of which are in written or
transcribed form) are with “normal sentence stress”. However, it is difficult to
imagine any of his examples without tonic prominence (at least, some kind of
pitch variation that distinguishes it from the rest of the tone group). The following
1
There are also many instances where -kin is not a focus particle but an inseparable part of
a word, e.g. kuitenkin ‘nevertheless’, tuskin ‘scarcely’. These were not counted.
318
example from Vilppula is taken from a poem that is about two crows sitting on a
fence. One of the crows opens the conversation with the following words:
It seems to me that it would be almost impossible to read this with the tonic
prominence coming at the end of the tone group, i.e. with the same kind of into-
nation contour as Pekka lähti Turkuun ‘Pekka left for Turku’.
The unmarked word order would be: Siinä on tehtävä remontti ‘It needs to be
renovated’ and the tonic prominence would come at the end of the tone group if
the clause were spoken. If example 9 were read aloud, the tonic prominence
would fall on remontti ‘renovations’.
319
The analysis of Theme and Rheme presented here is illustrated by a text, which is
analysed and reproduced in full in Appendix 1. Since the text is about cats, for
convenience I shall refer to it as the “cat text”. This text was chosen because it
illustrates a number of problems that have to be addressed in the analysis of the
Theme-Rheme structure of Finnish. The textual resources used by the writer are
varied, yet the text is, nevertheless, a fairly simple text and it is relatively easy to
ascertain what the text as a whole is about: it is a text about cats and people’s
attitudes to cats. While the majority of my examples come from this particular
text, the generalizations that I make are based on my knowledge of Finnish and
are intended ) unless otherwise stated ) to be applicable to the central genres of
spoken and written Finnish. Where necessary, I shall quote other, isolated exam-
ples and bits of text.
According to Halliday (1985a: 38), the Theme is the element that “serves as
the point of departure of the message; it is that with which the clause is con-
cerned”. The Rheme is the remainder of the message. The Theme in English is
realized by initial position. However, Halliday sees the Theme as having an inter-
nal metafunctional structure of its own: a clause can have a number of themes.
The experiential Theme is referred to by Halliday as the topical Theme. The
topical Theme basically corresponds to what is regarded as the theme or topic in
other models. This section will concentrate on the topical Theme in Finnish and
some of the problems associated with determining which clause-initial constituent
realizes the topical Theme.
320
If the topical Theme is “what the clause is about”, then the question that
needs to be addressed is: what is meant by “aboutness”. From an experiential
perspective, aboutness is concerned with the things that we talk about, and the
things that we talk about, the topics of our conversations, are phenomena that
have been construed as entities. The following example is from a conversation
between two women. They are discussing the fact that the daughter of one of
them (speaker A) is abroad. Speaker B comments on what a marvellous opportu-
nity it is for a young person to go abroad. Speaker A replies that it is, and contin-
ues:
cat text (from Appendix 1), it is unlikely that kummallisen sitkeästi ‘strangely
persistently’ would be regarded as the topical Theme.1
‘How strangely persistent is the view that a cat might scratch a person’s eyes out ..’ [4]
The finite verb in the following example can also be discounted as what the
clause is about.
tekevä Matti-kissa ..
performing Matti-cat
‘After all even the Seven Brothers had their own trick-performing cat called Matti ...’ [9]
1
Examples given in this chapter do not include form glosses. The glosses given in this
chapter are intended to make it easier for a non-Finnish reader to read the examples and
concentrate on the ordering of the constituents. Form glosses for the cat text are given in the
gloss of the complete text in Appendix 1. The number of the (orthographical) sentence from
which the example is taken is given in square brackets after the English translation.
322
The finite verb does not construct an entity but a process (or a relation between
entities). Thus it cannot be regarded as a topical Theme. A topical Theme ) as
Downing (1991: 126) points out ) is typically an “entity”, and, thus, for a process
to be a topical Theme it has to reified, i.e. it is realized by a nominal or nominal-
ized verb form.
The notion of a topic entity should not be taken too literally. What is at issue
is some kind of reification. The reification that is necessarily involved in making
something a topic can be illustrated by the actual English text of this study. In
order to problematize the notion of what the clause is about and focus on the
“about”, which is a preposition, I had to use a noun that is not common in Eng-
lish: “aboutness”. While we can talk about all sorts of experiential phenomena
construed as nouns, verbs, p-positions etc., in order to make something into a
topic we need to reify it. Topic-worthiness can roughly be ascertained by how
naturally an experiential function can figure as a response to the question “What
is this clause about?/Mistä tämä lause kertoo?”. If we ask this question in relation
to examples 10 or 12 above, then it seems to me that it is highly unlikely that
anyone would reply “It’s about ‘terribly’” or even “It’s about ‘having’”. Defined
in terms of aboutness, a topic can also refer to the previous text:
In this example, the topic sama ‘the same’ refers to the previous text.
Examples like 10, 11 and 12 above, where an adverb or a finite verb is the
first experiential element in the clause, are not particularly frequent in the cat text,
but they have been introduced into the discussion at this point in order to
problematize the notion of aboutness. In many of the clauses in the cat text it is
relatively easy to determine what the clauses is about. In the following example,
it is clear that the first clause is about kissan ystävät ‘people who like cats’ and
323
the second clause is about he ‘they’, which anaphorically refers to kissan ystävät
‘people who like cats’.
‘People who like cats are more tolerant, they more readily accept the individuality of
another.’
‘In a detached house a cat learns to stay within the confines of its own yard ..’ [28]
the light of what is said later on in this chapter, the finite verb, in fact, marks the
end of the Theme. There are many instances in the cat text to support the claim
that the topical Theme is the experiential element preceding the finite verb. In the
following fragment of text, the topical Theme (marked by double underlining)
can be tracked in this way.
‘A cat is no company on a walk but, on the other hand, it does not need to be taken out ei-
ther.’ [24]
It should be noted that both of these examples (16a and 16b) are subjectless, and,
thus, the topical Theme cannot be equated with subject in Finnish. In traditional
grammars, clause 16a is considered to have an “existential subject” seuraa ‘com-
pany. In 16b, the verb is in the third person singular and there is no subject in the
clause: this corresponds to English ‘one need not take it out’. However, if there is
a subject in the clause, it is often the topical Theme, as in clauses 17b ) f in the
following fragment, where, once again, the topical Theme can be tracked by its
position immediately preceding the verb:
‘All kinds of distressing things have in fact occurred during the course of time, but it’s also
true that dogs have bitten, horses have kicked and rams have butted people. Nevertheless a
dog is a man’s best friend, a horse (is) a noble animal, and one can even think of something
nice to say about a ram too.’[5 ) 6]
325
I shall have little to say about what can be considered marked and what can
be considered unmarked in the Theme-Rheme structure, as it seems to me that
generalizations about what is textually marked in Finnish need to be based on a
detailed and comprehensive analysis of number of texts representing various gen-
res, and, moreover, more research needs to be done on information structure in
Finnish in order to ascertain the interaction of Given-New and Theme-Rheme
structures. In 17, for example, there are segmental indicators that information
structure is marked: in 17a the word order is marked and the focusing particle -kin
is attached to the finite verb and in 17f the topical Theme pässistä ‘about a ram’
is marked by the particle -kin. On the basis of these two examples, however, it
would be wrong to draw the conclusion that if the topical Theme is not realized as
the grammatical subject it is marked, the non-subject themes in the previous ex-
ample (16) are in no sense textually marked.
Theme Rheme
Focus
In this example, the topical Theme and contrastive New element (Focus) are con-
flated; in Vilkuna’s terms, this position could be labelled K/T, where the slash
indicates a conflation. Thus, in the SF approach, both the Given-New structure
and Theme-Rheme structure vary independently and can be conflated in different
ways. They combine with experiential and interpersonal structures to create an
integrated ‘polyphonic’ grammatical structure.
326
‘It’s important that (/what is important is that) there are not so many no-nos that you have to
be continually ordering a cat about.’
In this particular example, the Rheme is an embedded clause; however, this is not
necessarily the case, as in the following example:
If the topical Theme in Finnish is realized by the pre-verb position, then a prob-
lem arises with other experiential elements that come at the beginning of the
clause. In this section, I shall argue that it is necessary to recognize what might be
called a “subsidiary topical Theme”. Subsidiary topical Themes in Finnish may
further need to be classified into various subtypes along the lines suggested by
Downing (1991) for English.
The most common category of experiential element that precedes the topical
Theme in Finnish is a Circumstances of time and place, as illustrated by the fol-
lowing example from the cat text:
‘In a detached house, on the other hand, a cat learns to stay within the confines of the yard,
if, from the time that it is small, it is used to the fact that --‘ [28]
In the English translation I have added “on the other hand” which could be seen
as corresponding to Finnish toisaalta (or taas), which does not appear in the
Finnish text.
text. There are cohesive conjuncts in Finnish, as illustrated by the silti ‘neverthe-
less’ in example 17 above, part of which is repeated as 22 below:
‘Nevertheless a dog is a man’s best friend, a horse (is) a noble animal, and one can even think
of something nice to say about a ram too.’[6]
In this example, the conjunct silti ‘nevertheless’ creates a cohesive tie with the
preceding text. It is my general impression that cohesive conjuncts are not as fre-
quent in a Finnish text as they are in English. If this is true, part of the reason for
this is the fact that these initial Circumstances of time and place function like
cohesive conjuncts in that they too “reach out into the preceding or following
text” (Halliday & Hasan 1976: 226).
‘In a detached house, on the other hand, a cat learns to stay within the confines of its own
yard --‘ [28]
The subsidiary Theme brings in another tier of experiential meaning into the
Theme in Finnish. Downing (1991) makes similar claims for English, and, based
on Chafe (1976), refers to this extra tier of experiential meaning as a “frame-
work”, and distinguishes different kinds of framework for English.
‘During the last decade we Finns consumed a record quantity of foreign products and
services ...’
‘Today our net foreign debt divided amongst all Finns (i.e. per capita) is 25 239
marks.’
on laskemassa ...
is falling
‘At the same time the demand for Finnish products and services is falling.’
There are also experiential elements preceding the topical Theme that are
not circumstances of time or place. In the following example, the first constituent
in both clauses is a Goal and this is followed by an Actor.
‘Its need for exercise gets to be satisfied even in an apartment house, its business can be done
in a basin lined with paper shreds or with a piece of perforated plastic at the base.’ [25]
Here the subsidiary Theme does not introduce a temporal or spatial frame for the
topic, but highlights some aspect of it, and this is reinforced ) in this particular
instance ) by the possessive suffix (-nsa ‘its’) attached to the subsidiary Theme.
This kind of subsidiary Theme approximates what Downing (1991) refers to as an
“individual framework”.
‘The hair that falls off its coat is so invisible that it scarcely causes any extra cleaning
work at all.’ [75]
332
The word order in the second clause together with the focusing particle -kaan
(negative of -kin) suggests a marked information structure. The first constituent
ylimääräistä siivoustyötä ‘extra cleaning work’ (realizing the Goal in the experi-
ential structure) is information that is being focused on, information that the
reader is being asked to attend to. It is followed by the topical Theme se ‘it’,
which is Given since it anaphorically refers back to the topical Theme of the pre-
vious clause (‘the falling hair’). The initial position of the Goal (ylimääräistä
siivoustyötä ‘extra cleaning work’) can possibly be explained by the fact that it is
‘in the air’, as Halliday (1985a: 277) puts it, or, it is in some sense evoked (in
Prince’s (1981) terminology). If there is hair falling from a pet that is kept inside
then the notion of ‘extra cleaning work’ would certainly be ‘in the air’ in a Finn-
ish context. Of course, in an implicit sense, a response to something that is
evoked by the previous text could be seen as cohesive, but it is not as explicitly
cohesive as the use of a conjunctive adjunct or the use of the temporal or spatial
subsidiary Themes discussed above.
There are another two similar instances in the cat text where a subsidiary
Theme is not explicitly cohesive, but in initial position because it presents
contrastive New information: they occur in sentences 29 and 31. In both in-
stances, the word order and the use of a focusing element indicate a marked infor-
mation structure. Sentence 31 will not be discussed at this point, as it brings in a
problem that will be addressed in section 7.3.4. In sentence 29, the topical Theme
of the first clause tämä ‘this’ refers to the previous sentence, which is about a cat
learning to keep within the confines of its own yard.
‘If this doesn’t succeed, (then) in the beginning you can build an outdoor cage as strange as
the idea may in fact seem.’ [29]
333
The topical Theme in the second clause ajatus ‘thought’ refers back to the build-
ing of an outdoor cage. The subsidiary Theme focuses on an aspect of the topical
Theme: an adverse reaction to ‘this thought’.
1
One cannot discount the possibility that it could be both cohesive and focused.
334
In a polar interrogative, the topical Theme follows the finite verb. As pointed out
in 4.5.4, a projected interrogative remains in the interrogative in both quotes and
reports in Finnish:
‘A cat has an extremely sensitive instinct concerning whether or not it is really accepted in a
home.’ [56]
The finite verb and the interrogative suffix (-ko) can be considered interpersonal
points of departure. These, and other interpersonal elements at the beginning of
the clause will be discussed more fully in section 7.3.6 below.
More problematic are those instances in which the topical Theme follows
the finite verb in a declarative clause. There are a number of instances in the cat
text where the finite verb precedes other experiential elements in the clause. As it
is more usual for the finite verb to follow an experiential element, this verb-initial
word order is marked in Finnish. It is clearly tied in with the system of key (al-
though the information structure may also play a part). A finite verb in clause-
initial position in a declarative clause in Finnish has the feature ‘assertive’: it
either asserts or repudiates something that has been said, one’s own expectations,
or an implicit assumption (cf. Hakulinen 1989: 59).
‘But on the other hand (for all that), not all Finns have always thought that the only place for
a cat is in outbuildings catching mice.’ [8]
335
(30) Olihan seitsemällä veljekselläkin oma temppuja
had seven brothers own tricks
‘After all even the Seven Brothers had their own trick-performing cat called Matti, who
had a secure position in the family circle.’ [9]
Both these sentences come at the beginning of the cat text, where the writer dis-
cusses people’s negative attitudes to cats. She then goes on, first, to disclaim in
part what she herself has written in example 29, and then assert a counterclaim in
30 ) the reference to the ‘seven brothers’ is to the first novel written in Finnish:
“The Seven Brothers” by Aleksis Kivi, which can assumed to be Given in a Finn-
ish cultural context. The counterclaim is, thus, that even people as significant in
Finnish culture as the seven brothers had a cat.
There are also instances in the cat text where there is an experiential element
at the beginning of the clause and this is followed by the verb. However, the finite
and predicator are split by another experiential element. In these instances, the
marked word order seems to be the result of a marked information structure.
rajoitettava.
to be restricted
‘When small birds are learning to fly is one particular time when a cat’s movements need
to be restricted .’ [31]
The constituent that I consider to be the topical Theme, kissan liikkumista ‘a cat’s
movements’ comes between the finite element and a participle. From the point of
view of the thematic development of the text, it is clear that kissan liikkumista ‘a
cat’s movements’ is the topical Theme: the previous sentences were about a cat’s
need for exercise and its movements in general. Moreover, the Rheme is realized
by the participle rajoitettava ‘to be restricted’, and this, in fact, follows the
Theme. There is a marked information focus on erityisesti pikkulintujen
336
lentoharjoitusten aikaan ‘especially when small birds are learning to fly’ (which
is an NP in Finnish) and, this appears to be the reason why the topical Theme gets
shifted to a position between the finite and the predicator.
edistä naapurisopua.
promote neighbour+harmony
‘The scent marks of uncastrated tomcats do not promote neighbourly love ~ As for the
scent marks of uncastrated tomcats they do not promote neighbourly love.’
The preceding sentence is about a cat’s sexual instinct and the fact that its wailing
at night is not the most pleasant thing to listen to. In this context, the first constit-
uent is a New element and it is picked up in an equative-like structure by a co-
referential pronoun that follows the finite verb. It seems to me that a structure
such as this is marked in Finnish, and, moreover, it seems to be restricted to cer-
tain genres. Unlike the English as regards structure, structures such as 34 are
more characteristic of informal registers, and would be unlikely to occur in offi-
cial or scientific prose.
Unlike English, Finnish does not employ “dummy elements” like it and there in
clauses like It’s easy to run out of money or There’s a glass on the table. The
Finnish translation equivalents to these could be literally glossed as “Easily hap-
pens thus that money runs out” and “On the table is a glass”:
337
(32) Helposti käy niin, että rahat loppuvat kesken.
easily happens so that money ends in the middle
‘It’s only too easy to run out of money.’
This means that a circumstantial element can occur in the pre-verb slot in spite of
the fact that it may not be significant for the thematic progression of text. It be-
comes the Theme by “default”, since its position at the beginning is tied to the
information structure of the clause rather than to thematic progression.
However, not all “default Themes” are topic-worthy. The most likely candi-
dates for topic-worthiness are circumstances of time or place (such as pöydällä
‘on the table’ in 33), since times and places constitute things that we talk about.
The following clauses could be glossed as being about ‘Saturday’ and ‘Sunday’:
‘On Saturday it’s your chance to get acquainted with long-haired breeds, on Sunday you
can get introduced to short-haired cats.’
There are a number of instances in the cat text where the element in the pre-
verb position is not particularly topic-worthy, and, moreover, it is difficult to re-
late it to the general topic of the text. In the following example, the issue of he-
redity factors is introduced in the Rheme as new information, and the paljon ‘a
lot, much’ comes at the beginning of the clause.
If one were to ask someone what this clause is about, it is unlikely that the answer
would be paljon. Since the position of paljon is motivated by the information
338
structure, it seems to me that we can either say that there is no topical Theme in
this clause or that paljon is the topical Theme by default.
‘How strangely persistent is the view that a cat might scratch a person’s eyes out ..’ [4]
Another equally valid translation for this example would be: ‘There is a strangely
persistent view that a cat might scratch a person’s eyes out’, since 36 represents
the most natural way to render this alternative translation back into Finnish.
‘How strangely persistent is the view that a cat might scratch a person’s eyes out ..’ [4]
As indicated, the embedded clause can also be analysed for topical Theme.
So far I have ignored interpersonal and textual elements at the beginning of the
clause. For English, Halliday (1985a) considers initial interpersonal and textual
elements to be part of the “theme”, although it is somewhat difficult to conceive
of the majority of these in terms of what the clause is about (from either an inter-
personal or textual viewpoint). Halliday’s alternative characterization as “the
point of departure of the message” seems more applicable (cf. Downing 1991).
However, if it is conceded that clause-initial textual and interpersonal elements
are “points of departure”, then, for Finnish, we need to determine whether these
points of departure are at the beginning of the clause because of the Theme-
Rheme structure, or because of the information structure.
The issue is complicated when there are a number of modal elements strung
throughout the clause. In these instances, it is difficult to say in what sense the
first interpersonal element is the interpersonal point of departure except by virtue
of the fact that it comes first:
(38) [eiks tääl ollu aika vaarallista asua sodan aikana? [SIIIM2d: 16]
‘wasn’t it quite dangerous to live here during the war?’]
The same question can be applied to Halliday’s (1981: 26) example from English:
Surely they can’t possibly be serious about it d’you think?
The issue of the textual status of clause-initial textual and interpersonal ele-
ments is best left as an area for future research. In the cat text, a textual or inter-
personal element that comes before the finite verb and a finite verb in clause-ini-
tial position is simply marked in cursive type:
In Chapter 4, it was argued that all joka ‘who/which’ relative clauses are embed-
ded in Finnish, i.e. they are part of a constituent that functions in the structure of
the host clause. The fact that they are embedded does not diminish their textual
significance; on the contrary, it is often the case that the host clause introduces an
element in the Rheme and this becomes the topical Theme of the embedded clau-
se:
‘After all even the Seven Brothers had their own trick-performing cat called Matti, who
had a secure position in the family circle.’ [9]
In example 42, the host clause introduces Matti-kissa ‘Matti-cat’ in the Rheme,
and this then becomes the topical Theme of the relative clause. In 43, which is the
first sentence in the cat text, there is no topical Theme in the first clause, but the
hypothetical ‘person’ that is introduced in the Rheme becomes the topical Theme
of the second clause.
Sometimes there are chains of relative clauses in which the Rheme of the
previous clause becomes the Theme of the subsequent clause.
342
(44) ja sitten oli kolme poikaa
& then was three boys
‘and then there were three boys’
In 44, the first clause introduces kolme poikaa ‘three boys’ in the Rheme. The
second picks up on this, but further specifies it: jolla yhellä ‘one of whom (i.e.
one of the three boys)’. In this clause and in the subsequent clauses, something is
introduced in the Rheme and this becomes the Theme of the following clause.
In spoken Finnish, the embedded clause generally comes at the end of the
host clause; the expansion of a nominal at the beginning of a clause, on the other
hand, appears to be more typical of written Finnish (cf. Helasvuo, in press):
‘Many who sincerely regard themselves as animal lovers shy away from cats because of
their supposed predatory nature.’
The initial nominal and the embedded clause in its entirety is the Theme of the
clause.
The topical status of the relative pronoun is assured regardless of its role in
the experiential structure since the relative pronoun joka can be inflected in Fin-
nish for number and case. As well as inflected forms of joka, there is a special
form that refers to a temporal antecedent: jolloin ‘when, at which time’ (cf. the
343
‘Nevertheless there are always those who will defend with their body and soul the right of
these poor cats ...’ [45]
In 46, the topical Theme of the second clause is introduced in the Rheme of the
first clause. As illustrated here, the subsidiary Theme comes between the relative
pronoun and the finite verb.
In 7.3.5 (p.339), it was pointed out that a host clause can be the Theme in an em-
bedded complex. In the instance discussed, there was a adverb of manner at the
beginning of the clause: (kummallisen sitkeästi ‘strangely persistently’). There
are similar instances in the cat text where an embedded clause follows a host
clause, but in these instances there is nothing before the verb that could be coun-
ted as topical Theme. Direct translations would render the clauses as “Is incom-
prehensible that ..” and “Is wonderful that ..”. As with the initial adverb of man-
ner, it seems to me that the host clause can be treated as the Theme in the clause
complex:
‘It’s incredible that some people think that the only real cat is a tomcat who has been
toughened in fights ...’ [35]
344
‘It’s wonderful when a cat moves about waving its bushy tail about ..’ [22]
At the clause complex rank, the embedded clause is the Rheme, and it, in turn,
can be analysed for its Theme-Rheme structure. It seems to me that this kind of
many-layered analysis comes closer to capturing the complexity of meaning than
an analysis that looks at clauses and clause complexes as if they involved only
one strand of textual meaning.
1
This does not, of course, exclude other motivation for the sequencing of clauses in a clause
complex.
345
(49) Jos eläisimme keskiajalla
if we were living in the middle-ages
‘If we were living in the middle ages, people like you would be sure to burn me at the
stake with my cat(s).’ [15]
The rest of this chapter is concerned with a number of textual issues that have not
yet been addressed. The next two sections are concerned with what is generally
referred to as ellipsis. However, in what follows, a distinction is made between
ellipsis and (non)-realization in the linguistic structure. The following is an exam-
ple of ellipsis:
Halliday (1985a: 90) points out, that the non-realization of subject in English is
dependent on speech function. In a question or a command, the listener will un-
derstand the subject to be “you” whereas in a statement or an offer the subject
will be understood as “I”:
There are problems with this. As pointed out in Chapter 5 the speech function of
offer is problematic: thus in the offer Like a cup of tea? the assumed subject in
Halliday’s view would be I, which is not the case (Would you like a cup of tea?).
However, in spite of these problems, it is clear that Halliday’s basic insight is
valid: that the non-realization of an inherent role in the experiential structure of
the clause can only be “explicated” by reference to the interpersonal semantics,
i.e. by reference to the speech functions STATEMENT, QUESTION , and PROPOSAL
(see 5.2.4).
The following are text examples in which this principle can be applied. The
first example below is from an advertisement for a pep-up pill, the second from a
comic strip, where the speaker is complaining of symptoms to a doctor:
348
(55) Ärsyttääkö? Pänniikö? .. Väsyttääkö?
irritate/annoy+3SG+Q annoy/fed up+3SG+Q tire+3SG+Q
Pätkiikö? .. Masentaako?
cut+3SG+Q depress+3SG+Q
÷ b. viluttaa,
make cold/chill+3SG
‘(I) feel chilly’
In the first example, it is clear that the inherent role that is not realized is ‘you’,
the hypothetical reader of the advertisement. The second example consists of
STATEME NTS , and, thus, the inherent role that is not realized in 56b refers to the
speaker.
In earlier chapters, I have argued that the grammatical subject in Finnish is the
element in the nominative case that agrees with the finite verb in person and, po-
tentially at least, in number, and that this element realizes the Medium. The Me-
dium can be realized as a separate NP (i.e. the subject) or it can be realized by a
bound morpheme (personal ending) attached to the stem of the finite verb. These
personal endings are not regarded as subjects: the subject is a nominal that is se-
parately realized. What I am concerned with in this section are the conditions
under which the Medium is realized morphologically and the conditions under
which it is (also) realized as separate nominal, i.e., the variation illustrated in the
following:
349
(57) minä lähden ~ mä lähden ~ lähden
I-NOM leave +1SG I-NOM leave +1SG leave +1SG
‘I’m leaving’
The differences between these is not self-evident, and will be discussed shortly.
With third person verb forms, on the other hand, the pronoun or nominal subject
is realized (unless it is presupposed by ellipsis, as in the example above). Thus,
with the verb lähteä ‘(to) leave’, the subject would typically be realized in the
vast majority of genres:
‘I try to describe the casual sex scene with a few of the numbers (on the album).’
There is a clear indication that the information focus is marked in this example:
the word order whereby the subject pronoun follows the negative auxiliary et puts
the focus clearly on sinä ‘you’, which is contrasted with kuka ‘who (else)’ in the
following clause. The following example illustrates how a similar environment
affects the realization of the pronoun minä ‘I’ in a written text. The example is
from a short article written by a well-known Finnish music critic. It’s about wo-
men in the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra wearing colourful clothes, instead
of the traditional black and white. The article, written in a light vein, describes
what some of the women were wearing. The writer continues:
The bathing costume final is to be decided amongst Rysä, Hohti and Carlsson-Parikka and
will be held in Kaivopuisto Park at 2 p.m. on Saturday 30th May.
‘I hereby authorize him to choose the final Miss Radio Symphony Orchestra.’
Here the constrast is between minä ‘I’ and radion johtaja Olli Alho ‘radio direc-
tor Olli Alho’. If read aloud, the first syllable of the pronoun would be given tonic
351
prominence. Note that in the final clause of example 61 there is no first person
pronoun, only a bound morpheme, as there is no contrast or no implied contrast.
In unselfconscious spoken Finnish, on the other hand, the pronouns are ge-
nerally realized. There are unstressed forms of singular first and second person
pronouns: mä (instead of minä) ‘I’ and sä (instead of sinä) ‘you (sg)’. With plural
forms, there are no shortened forms as they are already short: me ‘we’, te
‘you(pl)’.
‘While I’ve never worked in a bank, I’ve seen it there from such a close perspecti-
ve’
Interrogatives with vai that function as a “forward channel” (see 5.7) are another
clear instance where a second person pronoun is not realized. Here again the mo-
ve is a non-initial move:
Moreover, there are formal, standardized written genres for which the above ge-
neralizations about the realization of a speech act pronoun are not valid. The clea-
rest example that comes to mind is the Finnish Bible:
And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that
this also is vexation of the spirit. [Ecclesiastes 1:17]
353
Given the importance of the Bible in the development of literary Finnish (see 3.2,
p. 72), one cannot overlook its influence on the linguistic intuitions of speakers of
Finnish.
The problem can be illustrated by looking at some actual texts. The follo-
wing example is a transcription of an informal interview (quoted by Helasvuo
1987: 66). The text occurred in the middle of a long turn that was a response to
the question mitä sä harrastat? ‘what kind of pastimes do you have?’.
354
(67) a. mun yks harrastus oli yhtee aikaa
I+GEN one/a +NOM hobby+NOM was one+ILL time+ILL
villapukujen kutominen
wool+dress+PL+GEN knitting-NOM
Personal interviews such as this as well as much of our everyday conversation are
about people (you or me or someone else) and the people that figure in the world
of our experience often constitute the topic of our everyday talk. Personal inter-
views are about ‘me’, the person being interviewed, hence the presence of the
unstressed pronoun mä ‘I’ in the position preceding the verb. However, subsi-
diary experiential Themes are also woven into the thematic development of the
text. In the example above, the knitting of woollen dresses is introduced as the
Rheme of the first clause, whose topical Theme is mun yks harrastus ‘a hobby of
mine’. The speaker then mentions two dresses that she has knitted and they beco-
me the subsidiary Theme of the subsequent clauses. The subsidiary Themes in
67c and 67d, which are Goals in the experiential structure of the clause in Fin-
nish, also function cohesively: there is repetition of toinen ‘other’. (Repetition is
one type of cohesive tie recognized by Halliday & Hasan (1976) and Halliday
(1985a: Ch. 9).
The topical Theme in three of the clauses in the text above is the unstressed
pronoun mä ‘I’ (which is also cross-referenced on the verb) and there is also refe-
rence to the speaker in the first clause (mun ‘my’). The thematic development in
the text does not rest on this topical Theme, since it is simply repeated throughout
1
The vowel in mä oon ‘I be-1SG’ was, in fact, marked short in several places in the text by
the transcriber. I do not know the reason for this.
355
the text. We could either say that it is taken for granted or that it is backgrounded.
The pronoun would not be realized in a standardized written variant of the text
above:
This presents a problem for the recognition of topical Theme, since the element
preceding the verb in 68 above is the element that was the subsidiary Theme in
the spoken variant (67).
The following written text is taken from Vilkuna (1989: 93), who has taken
it from a paragraph in an interview published in a women’s magazine. According
to Vilkuna (1989: 93), who analyses the text in terms of a dialogue games appro-
ach (see Carlson 1983, 1984), the overall topic of the text is “What is my opinion
about different technical gadgets?”
‘The (cold storage) cellar and (cold storage) pit are in my opinion far superior inven-
tions than even the best deep freeze.’
f. Tiskausta rakastan ja
dish-washing+PAR love+1SG &
‘Washing dishes is something I love and
ja suunnatonta terapiaa.
& boundless+PAR therapy+PAR
‘A television set ) albeit small and black-and-white ) we’ve got only as the result of
my wife’s insistence.’
In Vilkuna’s view, in those clauses in which there is a first person form of the
verb “the dropped pronoun continues to act as T” and the initial NP is K (Vilkuna
1989: 94). As indicated earlier (p. 323), Vilkuna’s T position is associated with
what would be referred to as the topical Theme in the approach adopted here. The
K position is associated with contrastive New, but it seems to me that this is not
true of all instances. (Vilkuna is clearly aware of this, and, as a consequence, does
357
The setting up of a correlation between spoken and written would have to assume
that the spoken is the more basic, which seems to me a valid assumption given the
number of times claims to this effect are repeated in introductory linguistics text-
books. It is also necessary to make this correlation because if a pronoun had been
realized in a written text comparable to 69 above, it seems to me that it would
have to be contrastive (cf. 61, p. 350), although this can only be ascertained by
looking at the text environments where the following type of structure occurs:1
1
If there are experiential elements occurring in Vilkuna’s K and T positions, and if the
element in the T position also carries tonic prominence, then this would indicate that Theme-
Rheme and Given-New vary independently, and the realization of a contrastive New element
cannot be tied to a particular linear position.
358
The problem with the Theme-Rheme analysis of first and second person can
be overcome if we acknowledge the special status of the 1. and 2. person (speech
act pronouns), since in Finnish these can be marked on the verb, i.e. realized as
bound morphemes. With a third person form such as suhtautuu ‘relate -3SG ’ or
suhtautuvat ‘relate -3PL’, we need to specify the Entity or Entities doing the ‘rela-
ting’, whereas with suhtaudun [relate +1SG ] ‘I relate’ (and with other 1. and 2.
person forms) the Entity is already specified in the morphology of the finite verb.
A solution would be to say that the topical Theme is typically realized by an ex-
periential element occurring in the position immediately preceding the finite verb,
except in the case of the first and second person, where it can either 1) be realized
by this position and also cross-referenced on the verb or 2) it is simply realized by
a bound morpheme attached to the verb. It seems to me that this is also justified
since it sets up a correlation between clauses with a finite 1. and 2. person verb
and experiencer and possessive clauses, where the pronoun is typically realized in
written Finnish since the verb is in the third person singular: minua suututtaa ‘I
feel angry’, minulla on päänsärky ‘I’ve got a headache’.
paraskaan pakastin
even the best deep freeze
f. Tiskausta rakastan ja
dish-washing love+I &
ja suunnatonta terapiaa.
& boundless therapy
The subsidiary Themes in this example have a cohesive function: they are in a
hyponymic relationship with “technical gadgets”. (See Halliday & Hasan (1976)
and Halliday (1985a: Ch. 9) for a discussion of hyponymy as a cohesive rela-
tionship.)
360
Two clause types that Vilkuna (1989) refers to as habitive and manifestation clau-
ses were not considered in the discussion of process types in Chapter 6. These
clause types are grammatically heterogeneous, and, in the approach adopted in
this study, they are not considered to be clause types, but constitute simultaneous
textual options that can be conflated with transitivity (experiential) options. Habi-
tive clauses are concerned with the Given-New structure in the clause. Manifesta-
tion clauses group together clauses in which it would appear that a Circumstance
is not realized. Manifestation clauses, like the clauses discussed in 7.5.1 (e.g.
Ärsyttääkö? ‘Irritated?’), appear to be topicless.
what happens. Wierzbicka (1988: 381 ff.) makes a similar claim concerning the
function of the Polish dative. While this is clearly the case in Finnish, it is true
whether or not the NP in the adessive, allative or ablative is at the beginning or
the end of the clause. In the following example, it comes at the end:
Clauses like this are similar to what Quirk et. al. (1985: 1411 ff.) refer to as the
have-existential device in English: You’ve got a button undone, I’ve got a car
blocking my way. These clauses function in a similar way to clauses with there:
There’s a button undone on your shirt, There’s a car blocking my way. As dis-
cussed earlier (section 7.3.5), there are no “dummy elements” in Finnish, and so
what happens is that an element that is typically Given comes at the beginning of
a clause. The rest of the clause is presented as New: juna lähtee ihan kohta ‘train
is leaving soon’ , miten ystäväpiiri rakentunu ‘how circle of friends built up’. In
the b-clauses the pronouns are in the genitive in a NP with juna ‘train’ and ystä-
väpiiri ‘circle of friends’ as Head. Thus, the nominals juna ‘train’ and ystäväpiiri
‘circle of friends’ are part of an NP that is Given. The habitive clause allows these
NPs to come as New elements at the end of the clause.
The conflation of Theme with the experiential meaning that Vilkuna refers
to is, of course, important. As pointed out earlier, much of our everyday conversa-
tion is about “you” or “me” or someone else, and the people that figure in the
world of our experience often constitute the topic of our everyday talk. These
clauses with a habitive in initial position also allow us to get the unmarked theme
right. The clauses above are not about “trains” or “circles of friends”, but about
“me” and “you”. Significantly, examples 76 (80a) and 77 are from the same radio
talk-back show (Yöihmisiä ‘Night People’; currently called Yölinja ‘Night Line’),
where people phone in to talk about their problems. It is clear from these texts
that people generally phone in to talk about themselves and the host of the prog-
ramme directs the conversation along these lines.
363
b. Syttyi kapinoita.
light/break out-3SG/PAS revolt/riot+PL+PAR
‘There were riots/Riots broke out’
These clauses are considered problematic because they are verb-initial: “was old
man and old woman”, “broke out a war”, “followed considerable chaos”, “reig-
ned a deep silence”. If an experiential role is added in Finnish, it would not be a
“dummy element” like there or it, but a Circumstance of time or place: Silloin
syttyi sota “At that time broke out a war” ~ Maassa syttyi sota “In the country
broke out a war”.
vasive textual phenomenon in Finnish. As Vilkuna (1989: 168) points out, there
are indefinite clauses in Finnish that are similar in this respect. For example:
Eletään 1800-lukua.
live+INDE 1800-decade/century+PAR
These clauses are also about the temporal or spatial domain of the universe of
discourse. These examples are from written texts and their interpretation is tied up
with the concept of genre and the place of the text in the context of culture. The
Finnish Design example (example 86) is from a Finnish weekly magazine that
contains cultural and political articles. Thus the assumed Circumstance of Locati-
on is Finland and the Circumstance of Time is the time that the article was writ-
ten. With the Dog House example (85), on the other hand, the context is being
constructed by the writer, and the text is accompanied by elaborate illustrations.
(87) On kylmä.
be-3SG cold-NOM
‘It’s cold’
(88) On kaunista.
be-3SG cold+PAR
‘It’s beautiful’
7.6. Summary
This chapter has discussed some aspects of textual organization in Finnish. It was
postulated that the Given and New structure in Finnish is realized in the pitch
movement in the tone group, and although no phonetic analysis was carried out,
this provided the basis for discussing Given-New and Theme-Rheme as distinct
structures that vary independently in the clause. It was argued that, in most cases,
the finite verb marks the movement from Theme (‘what the clause is about’) to
Rheme, and that we need to recognize two experiential Themes in Finnish. The
recognition criteria established for Given-New and Theme-Rheme were based on
the formal properties of the clause (or tone group). This fact, together with the
discussion of the non-realization of elements of the situation in the linguistic
structure, underscores the importance of the textual metafunction in the grammati-
cal organization of a language. Any analysis of grammatical structure necessarily
includes the analysis of textual structures in the clause: a text is also organized
textually at the rank of clause. The co-text and context is not something that can
be tacked on after we have completed a morpho-syntactic analysis of the clause.
367
Chapter 8
Conclusion
8.1. Overview
In section 8.3, I provide a very brief indication of what is “beside and bey-
ond” the analysis presented here: I discuss other patterns of linguistic organizati-
on that are beyond the scope of this study in order to show how the analysis pre-
sented here fits into a wider and more comprehensive framework. In the final
section of this conclusion (8.4), I shall attempt to bring together a number of re-
curring themes in this study.
368
The fragment of text that will be analysed is from spoken Finnish. The syllable in
bold type indicates what I perceived as the tonic syllable, however, I shall ignore
the prosody and also the pause in the first tone group. I shall also ignore the
fourth clause: since it was spoken extremely quickly and softly. I had to rewind
the tape many times before I actually heard what was said.
‘The advantage of marriage is that I get to eat properly, and get to put on weight.’
the speaker sees as being interrelated. Clause 5 is a simple clause, which contains
a phrase complex: hiukan laihempi, ehkä kymmenen killoo laihempi ‘slightly
leaner/slimmer, ten or so kilos lighter’. The final clause contains an embedded
clause, i.e. a clause that functions in the structure of the host clause. (The infiniti-
ve forms in the embedded clause can be regarded as non-finite clauses.)
Apart from clause 3 (täytyy olla sormus ‘(one/I) must have a ring), each
clause in this fragment is in the declarative and congruently realizes a STATE-
MENT , i.e. the clause is basically oriented to the exchange of language and the
role of the speaker in this orientation is that of giver. Clause 3 is a projected clau-
se introduced by the projecting clause välttämättä kaveri halus. While clause 3 is
in the declarative, it is not oriented to the exchange of language, but to a non-
linguistic response (or to an action). This is clear from the finite verb in the pro-
jecting clause: the verb haluta ‘to want’ realizes a mental process that can be
subclassified as a reactive process, i.e. it represents a mental reaction (of fear,
joy, desire etc.) to some phenomena. When a reactive verb is followed by a pro-
jecting clause beginning with a modal like täytyy, then täytyy can only be modu-
lating, i.e. action-oriented.
370
1 (initiating)
Mood: declarative
* Theme: top * Rheme
* Circ * Pro: mat + Ac (indef) * Circ
(5) mie olin sillon hiukan laihempi, ehkä kymmenen killoo laihempi
I was then slightly slimmer perhaps ten kilos slimmer
Mood: declarative
(6) se etu on ollut avioliitosta [[ että mie oon saanu kunnolla syyäkseni, lihoakseni ]]
that advantage has been from marriage that I have got properly fed, toget fat
Mood: declarative
The topical Theme of the first clause is viime kesänä ‘last summer’, the spea-
ker is concerned with saying something that relates to last summer. The finite
verb is indefinite, and a Finnish indefinite often implies that there is more than
one participant, particularly if it is preceded by a circumstantial element. The
other participant is the topical Theme of the second clause: kaveri ‘partner’. This
is followed by the projected clause discussed above. There is no topical Theme in
this clause, as it is oriented to action.1 The topical Theme of the next clause is
mie ‘I’ (dialect form of minä ‘I’). Clause 6 is an embedded complex. The topical
Theme is se etu ‘the/that advantage’ and the rest of the clause (including the em-
bedded clause) is the Rheme.
1
The ring that is introduced in this clause appears to be the topical Theme of clause 4, not
analysed here. The ring is not mentioned again in this fragment, but is picked up immediately
afterwards.
372
clause 6 contains an embedded clause, it is difficult to vary the word order. Ho-
wever, the following is a possible variant:
I am not suggesting that these clauses could be changed in the original text, but as
argued throughout this study, grammar is an abstraction from text, it is based on
knowledge of what is possible in a language.
The analysis above gives us some indication of the kinds of meaning that can
made at clause rank. This is, of course, only a thumbnail sketch. The morphologi-
cal and lexical meanings that can be realized in Finnish have barely been conside-
red at all.
I have also ignored the question of prosody in the analysis above. It can be
regarded as another kind of organization that moves hand in hand with grammati-
cal analysis: the tone group is a different order of patterning that moves “alongsi-
de” the clause. The analysis presented here needs to be extended by looking at the
way in which the tone group in Finnish realizes the system of information (what
the listener is being asked to attend to) and Key (the meanings associated with the
different melodic contours in the tone group). One would also need to consider
how the tone system expresses logical relations between successive information
units, and how it interacts with clause complexing and contributes to conjunctive
relations in a text.
373
The clauses above are not a jumbled mess. If we are judging only on the
basis of this small fragment, then we can assume that the speaker is sane and not
aphasic, and can produce a text that coheres and makes sense. This is even more
apparent if we add the fragment presented below, which follows on immediately
after clauses 1 ) 6 discussed in the previous section.
If we look at the resources that make a text into a text and not just a jumbled mess
of unconnected words, then we need to look at the resources in Finnish that cor-
respond to the kind of phenomena analysed by Halliday & Hasan (1976) and Hal-
liday (1985a: Chapter 9).
Cohesive devices include what Halliday & Hasan refer to as “reference” (i.e.
the presence of co-referential items e.g. sormus ‘ring’ ) se ‘it’) as well as ellipsis
and substitution. Conjunctive relations between clauses also contribute to the
textness of a text, for example nyt ‘now’ in 9 above might be considered to realize
a circumstance of time in the experiential structure, but textually it functions as a
continuative, opening up a new stage in the communication. Various types of
374
However, from the perspective of the meanings that are made and can be
made in Finnish, this is only a beginning. In the analysis above, I made no refe-
rence to the genre that the text was representative of. Neither did I make any refe-
rence to the gender of the speaker, and there is no lexico-grammatical reflex of
gender in the fragment above. To any Finn ) and indeed to any English-speaking
person ) it would come as no surprise that the speaker was male. One might also
hazard a guess that the fragment is from conversation, conversation that is unself-
conscious and its function is interpersonal. The fragment above is, in fact, a trans-
cribed turn from a conversation among a group of men that took place in a
restaurant-pub in Helsinki. The recording is old ) it was recorded in the late fif-
ties ) but the reference to the advantages of marriage places it in a certain dis-
course, which is still recognizable today.
- written and spoken genre structures, texts in their context that are recogniza-
ble as being a meaningful mode of action in a society, e.g. interpersonal con-
versation, an editorial in a newspaper, a service encounter (see, e.g., Bakhtin
1986, Hasan 1984b, Halliday & Hasan 1985, Kress 1985, Ventola 1987);
- the interactional (or dialogical) semantics of text: the intertextual and intra-
textual links in a text and with other texts and the heteroglossic relations whe-
reby the “voice” of a text establishes its stance towards other voices.
Discourse is a multidimensional process; a ‘text’ which is the product of that process not only
embodies the same kind of polyphonic structuring as is found in the grammar ... but also
since it is functioning at a higher level of the code, as the realization of semiotic orders ‘abo-
ve’ the language, may contain in itself all the inconsistencies, contradictions and conflicts that
can exist within and between such higher-order semiotic systems. Because it has this poten-
tial, a text is not a mere reflection of what lies beyond; it is an active partner in the reality-
making and reality-changing process.
If a text can contain “all the inconsistencies, contradictions and conflicts that can
exist within and between such higher-order semiotic systems”, then the analysis
of text that is not grounded on a theory-based grammar remains a question of
personal inclination and individual interpretation. In order to claim that a text is
racist or sexist, for example, one needs a principled way of demonstrating the
grammatical and semantic properties of the text that can be said to give it a racist
or sexist reading.
As discussed in 2.2.5, in Firth’s view the study of language is the study of linguis-
tic meaning. Similarly, according to Robinson (1975: 139):
Meanings, however, are made in various ways and at various ranks and levels,
and they can be analysed in varying degrees of delicacy. This study has provided
the outline of how major clauses can be analysed in terms of a number of simul-
taneous grammatical structures. These structures are not simplistically conceived
frames into which words are slotted, but reflect the way in which clauses are
meaningfully organized. Meanings at the rank of clause have been dispersed )
to use once again Firth’s analogy of the prism. They have been dispersed into a
number of generalized types of meaning, using Halliday’s metafunctional appro-
ach. But like white light or a chord that is played by a musician, a clause in a
spoken or written text is an indivisible whole. The prism and the musical score
are the instruments of the observer. In this study, I have attempted to demonstrate
the advantages of dispersing the meanings that are made at the rank of clause by
taking a metafunctional approach to grammatical analysis.
1
I am not suggesting that it is useless. There are many reasons why one might want to write
a grammar, and not all grammarians want to write grammars that are applicable to language
in use.
378
1
A field linguist does not describe a system of sounds, she or he has the task of describing
a meaning-making system, and in order to do so needs to gain an entry into the system.
379
Even if we know the language and we have a thousand texts in front of us,
in order to do some kind of linguistic analysis, we need to be able to systematical-
ly relate instance X with instance Y, and show how they are dissimilar from ins-
tance A, B, C .. and so on. This is not something that a text “tells us”. If we take
the clause (7) niin ‘yeah, so’ and clause (8) (et) se ei lähe pois ‘so that it won’t
come off’ from the example discussed on p. 373 above, then in order to determine
how they differ as clauses, we need to be able to relate niin to other sets of minor
clauses and (et) se ei lähe pois to other kinds of major clauses. In order to see
how the grammar of Finnish works, we need to be able to abstract clauses from
their particular context, and relate them in a principled and systematic way to
other clauses.
guage in a vacuum and a grammar that is too theory-driven will have little of
relevance to say about actual texts in the context of living.
To the extent that it is possible, I have put the translation equivalents of Finnish constituents
in the same order in English as they are in Finnish. While this produces a lot of marked the-
mes in English, it does not mean that the Theme is marked in Finnish, although it could be.
‘Generally people either like cats or they relate to them disparagingly or even hostilely.’
382
‘Many who sincerely regard themselves as animal lovers shy away from cats because of their
supposed predatory nature.’
‘How strangely persistent are the views (There is a strangely persistent view) that a cat might
bite through a neck artery, scratch a person’s eyes out, or that it generally only exists in order
to maul some living creature at the appropriate moment.’
saatossa sattunut, 2
procession+INE happen/occur+PTC
‘All kinds of distressing things have in fact occurred during the course of time, but it’s
also true that dogs have bitten, horses have kicked and rams have butted people.’
383
‘Nevertheless a dog is a man’s best friend, a horse (is) a noble animal, and one can think
of something nice to say about a ram too.’
‘A cat simply is and will remain a beast of prey, and for this reason it does not deserve the
same care as other domestic animals.’
‘But on the other hand (for all that), not all Finns have always thought that the only place
for a cat is in outbuildings catching mice.’
‘After all even the Seven Brothers had their own trick-performing cat called Matti, who
had a secure position in the family circle.’ (The reference is to “The Seven Brothers” by
Aleksis Kivi.)
384
‘The popularity of a dog as a pet can be easily understood: a dog is submissive; the need
to be able to obey its leader is part of a dog’s basic nature.’
‘Its leader may not be a good one, but a dog’s devotion is, nevertheless, unconditional.’
‘There is a large group of people for whom it is essential to get to be the object of an ani-
mal’s adoration.’
ihmisiä kohtaan. á 2
person+PL+PAR towards
‘People like this entirely underestimate a cat’s capacity to experience positive feelings
towards humans.’
385
hämmästyttäviä tokaisuja,
surprising/astonishing+PL+PAR snapping out/jibe+PL+PAR
‘Cat lovers are used to hearing astonishing jibes that put into question the intelligence of both
the cat and its owner.’
‘Sometimes you feel like voicing (have a mind to voice) out aloud the thought:”If we were
living in the middle ages, people like you would surely burn me at the stake with my
cat(s).”’
‘The desire to control others is often typical of people who admire dogs.’
‘People who like cats are more tolerant, they more readily accept the individuality of ot-
hers.’
386
‘Children and young people who grow up with a cat have the chance of developing into
giving adults who take others into consideration, since a child must continually remember
that a cat has its own will too, that they can be friends, but not just on the child’s terms.’
‘The allegation that a cat gets attached to a place and not to people is true if a cat is left to
wander about by itself and look for fixed points in its life alone.’
387
‘But a cat that you show an interest in, that you play with and chat with in a friendly man-
ner, will accept you as its friend.’
‘A mutual and warm feeling is valuable, since the friendship of a cat is something that is
earned, not something directed by automatic instinct.’
(22) 2 On ihanaa, 2
is+3SG wonderful+PAR
asuinkumppanuudesta. â 2
living+partnership+ELA
‘It’s wonderful when a cat moves about waving its bushy tail about, but with a glint in its eye
which reflects a happy living relationship.’
1
The relative pronouns are the topical Themes in the embedded clauses.
388
ja hännän huisketta. â
& tail+GEN whisking+PAR
kuljettaa ulos. â
transport+INF outside
‘A cat is no company on a walk but, on the other hand, it does not need to be taken out eit-
her.’
‘Its need for exercise gets to be satisfied even in an apartment house, its business can be done
in a basin lined with paper shreds or with a piece of perforated plastic at the base.’
muiden kanssa. 2
other+PL+GEN with
‘When things are taken care of in your own home, then you’re unlikely to get into a quarrel
with others because of your pet.’
389
‘This is quite a relief when you know how often people walking dogs are subject to the abuse
of others.’
omassa pihapiirissä,
own+INE yard+circle+INDE
‘In a detached house, on the other hand, a cat learns to stay within the confines of the yard, if
from when it was small it has been used to the fact that it is safest and interesting when your
own family is at least within hearing distance.’
‘If this doesn’t succeed, (then) in the beginning you can build an outdoor cage as strange as
the idea may in fact seem.’
390
ulkoilemaan valjaissa. 2
be outside+INF+ILL leash+PL+INE
‘When small birds are learning how to fly is one particular time when a cat’s movements
should be restricted.’
‘A lot of unpleasantness arises in an area with detached houses because owners do not take
care of neutering their cats.’
‘A cat’s sexual instinct is strong, and their nightly serenades are not the most pleasant thing to
listen to.’
391
‘Neither do the scent marks of uncastrated tomcats do much to promote neighbourly love.’
(35) 2 On käsittämätöntä,
be+3SG incomprehensible+PAR
leikkauttamasta sitä. â 2
have neutered+INF+ELA it+PAR
‘It’s incredible that some people think that the only real cat is a tomcat who has been
toughened in fights and whose ears are in shreds, and, thus, they stubbornly refuse to have
it neutered.’
‘Nevertheless this kind of cat is a nuisance to its environment and furthermore it is at risk of
losing its life; before long it will go on a trip from which it will no longer return.’
392
‘A more animal-friendly alternative would be to spend halcyon days1 in the close vicinity of
the home.’
‘A neutered cat does not put on weight nor lose its energy if it is not fed too much.’
huolimattomiin käsiin. â 2
careless/uncaring+PL+ILL hand+PL+ILL
‘Giving kittens away to strangers always includes the risk that they will fall into uncaring
hands.’
1
The idiom in Finnish for “halcyon days” is “cat’s days”.
393
‘Taking payment for a cat is at least some sort of guarantee that people are willing to sacrifice
something for its sake.’
‘What else nowadays can you get for free besides a kitten?’
pelkkää kärsimistä. â 2
mere/pure+PAR suffering+PAR
‘It is precisely for this reason that packs of feral cats emerge even in the middle of town areas,
and their life during the long winter months is nothing but suffering.’
394
‘Nevertheless there are also always people who will defend with their body and soul, the right
of these poor cats to live and give birth to their young in the middle of snow and ice.’
‘This conflict of emotions is complemented by others, who, for their part, despise these crea-
tures, who have innocently had to suffer, as destroyers of nature and are ready to shorten their
lives by even the most ham-fisted means.’
‘A cat is an extremely clean animal: as is evident from the fact that the time of Pasteur’s bac-
teria discoveries, it experienced a completely new rise in esteem .’
395
‘Anything smelly and dirty it avoids, its coat is kept silky and clean, and it doesn’t soil the
linen closet if it sometimes decides to take a nap there for a moment.’
omalla astiallaan. 2
own+ADE dish/basin+ADE+POS/3
‘There are exceptions but generally a cat very easily learns to go to its own toilet basin.’
‘Discipline should be tender but firm, punishment only makes things worse.’
396
‘Countless cats have been completely tidy their whole life without needing to be disciplined
in this matter.’
‘In other respects teaching a cat how to behave is rather simple, you can prevent it from scrat-
ching your best furniture by squirting water from a spray bottle on its nose, and then there’s
not much else that you really need to do.’
‘A cat observes how others live and then settles down into a house.’
397
‘It’s important that (/what is important is that) there are not so many no-nos that you have to
be continually ordering a cat about.’
‘A cat has an extremely sensitive instinct concerning whether or not it is really accepted in a
home.’
hyppyyttää perhettänsä. â 2
make to jump+INF family+PAR+POS/3
‘A cat that feels secure is well-behaved, but one that is offended or lives in uncertainty is sure
to think of ways to irritate its family and make them jump.’
eurooppalaiseksi lyhytkarvakissaksi. 2
European+TRA short+(body)hair+cat+TRA
‘Our own house(hold) cat [i.e. in Finland] is referred to in cat-breeding circles as a European
short-haired cat.’
398
hyvä kaupunkikissa.â 2
good+NOM town+cat+NOM
‘At its best, a lot of good things can be said about it, but on the minus side is the fact that it is
not always a good town cat.’
‘A lot depends on heredity factors and how it has been treated from the time when it was
small.’
epävarmaa. 2
uncertain+PAR
‘You should never accept a cat/A cat should never be accepted just like that from anywhere at
all, as then success is bound to be uncertain.’
miellyttää monia. â 2
please +3SG many+PAR
‘Of foreign breeds, at the moment, the most popular is a Persian, whose shaggy appearance
appeals to many.’
399
lisätöitä. â 2
extra+work+PL+PAR
‘Those who would like a cat like this should nevertheless take into account the daily care of
its coat and its loss of hair, which can mean a lot of extra work.’
temperamenttieroja olemassa. 2
temperament+difference+PL+PAR be+INF+INE
‘By nature a Persian is even-tempered, but amongst the various colours there are differences
in temperament.’
‘A Persian is also suitable for a family in which it has to be left alone for the day.’
kuuluvat abessinialaiset. 2
belong+3PL Abyssinian+NOM/PL
‘The insatiable wanderlust of some individuals might make the keeping of an Abyssinian
difficult.’
‘These cats show affection at intervals and are thus content to be in their own world for long
spells; for this reason they are also suitable for those who go to work.’
kannattajajoukon. 2
supporter+group+GEN
‘The Siamese with its blue eyes commands a solid group of supporters.’
omistajansa seurasta. 2
owner+GEN company+ELA
‘It is agreeably talkative, but when it is on heat its powerful sound reserves exhaust all of
those who got into the game with less than real resolve.’
leikkauksen avulla. 2
operation+GEN help+ADE
‘The same goes for the small and elegant Burmese, a close relative of the Siamese.’
‘As for Rex cats with their wavy coats, owners have a lot of good things to say about them.’
402
juurikaan aiheuta. 2
hardly/scarcely+TIS cause
‘The hair that falls off its coat is so invisible that it scarcely causes any extra cleaning work at
all.’
‘A weak point in the breed is, or has been (particularly earlier) that some individuals have a
coat that is too thin, a defect that has been of more concern to outsiders than the cat’s master
and mistress.’
‘Cats offer the chance to get involved in a more extensive pastime amongst both cats and cat
lovers.’
‘Finland has a registered association of Pedigree Cat Societies, to which are affiliated four cat
societies.’
403
‘Two of them function in Helsinki, Turku and Tampere have their own societies.’
‘The societies organize shows, and the next ones are during the first weekend in October in
Helsinki at the North Haaga Co-Educational Secondary School.’
lyhytkarvakissoja. 2
short+hair+cat++PL+PAR
‘On Saturday it’s possible for you to get acquainted with long-haired breeds, on Sunday you
can be introduced to the short-haired cats.’
AA1 - AA2 - Spoken texts (conversation) originally recorded for a sociological study conducted
by Kettil Bruun. Transcribed for the Conversation Analysis Project, Finnish Department, Uni-
versity of Helsinki. Transcription & recording kept at Dept. of Finnish, University of Helsinki.
(See A. Hakulinen (ed.) 1989.)
Äidinkielen avain 3-4. Leena Laulajainen, Mervi Miettinen, Hannele Ilves, & Kari Evinsalo,
Weilin+Göös, Espoo, 1982.
Äidinkielen avain 7. Ritva Koskipää, Pirjo Nallikari, Kaija Parko, Aulikki Pönttinen, Wei-
lin+Göös, Espoo, 1982.
Ad2 - 4 billboard advertisements for the Finnish commercial television channel (MTV). The
billboards appeared at bus and tram stops in Helsinki, November, 1991.
Ad3 - Advertisement for a pep-up pill (Gerimax), which appeared in Helsinki City buses during
1991.
CA1 - CA11. Spoken texts recorded and transcribed by students for the Conversation Analysis
Seminar (Keskusteluntutkimuksen praktikumi), Dept. of Finnish, University of Helsinki. Trans-
cription & recording kept at Dept. of Finnish, University of Helsinki.
CA1 - Liisa Hakala, HOAS:n kohteen asukkaiden kokous (Informal meeting of flat-mates).
CA5 - Raija Kumpunen, Aikuinen ja lapsi (4v 2kk): piirtelyä pöydän ääressä (Adult & child).
CA8 - Jaana Sihvo, Yöihmisiä-ohjelman kaksi keskustelua (Late-night radio talk-back prog-
ramme: callers talk about personal problems).
HKV - Computerized corpus of written Finnish. Various genres of written Finnish, including
newpaper and magazine articles and encyclopaedia entries. Compiled by Auli Hakulinen, Fred
Karlsson & Maria Vilkuna. (See bibliography.)
HS kl - Helsingin Sanomien kuukausiliite, colour magazine (published once a month) for the
newpaper Helsingin Sanomat.
JYK - Fred Karlsson, Johdatus yleiseen kielitieteeseen. Gaudeamus, Helsinki, 1976. An ele-
mentary linguistics textbook.
OH Overheard - This refers to something that I have overheard and have written down.
Pyhä Raamattu (The Holy Bible). Suomen kirkon sisälähetysseura, Pieksämäki, 1953.
SIIIM3b - Interview done for a Labovian sociolinguistic analysis of the Finnish spoken in Hel-
sinki. Transcription at Dept. of Finnish, University of Helsinki.
SIIN3c - Interview done for a Labovian sociolinguistic analysis of the Finnish spoken in Helsin-
ki. Transcription kept at Dept. of Finnish, University of Helsinki.
SS - Suomea suomeksi 1 by Olli Nuutinen. A textbook for foreigners learning Finnish. Suoma-
lainen Kirjallisuuden Seura [The Finnish Literature Society], Helsinki 1977.
T - Tiede 2000. (Science 2000). A monthly magazine with articles on various scientific and
academic topics directed at a general audience.
TB - Tourist brochure for the city of Joensuu. Joensuun kaupungin matkailutoimisto, 1991.
Tel1 - Tel3. Telephone conversations transcribed for the Conversation Analysis Project, Finnish
Department, University of Helsinki. Transcription & recording kept at Dept. of Finnish, Univer-
sity of Helsinki.
TH - Taikurin hattu by Tove Jansson. Werner Söderström, 1973. Translated from Swedish into
Finnish by Laila Järvinen.
TIIIN3c - Interview done for a Labovian sociolinguistic analysis of the Finnish spoken in Hel-
sinki. Transcription kept at Dept. of Finnish, University of Helsinki.
TP1 - Turun puhekieli (Turku Spoken Finnish Project). Vapaa keskustelu (Casual Conversati-
on): Tyttöystävien keskustelu. Transcription/recording kept at Dept. of Finnish and General
Linguistics, University of Turku, Turku.
TP2 - Turun puhekieli (Turku Spoken Finnish Project). Tilannenauhoitus: kahvikutsut (Casual
Conversation “Coffee Party”). Transcription/recording kept at Dept. of Finnish and General
Linguistics, University of Turku, Turku.
TSM - Alpo Ruuth, Tavallisen suomalainen mies. Tammi, Helsinki. 1982. A novel.
Ac . . . . . . . . . . . Actor
amb . . . . . . . . . . ambient (relational process)
Att . . . . . . . . . . Attribute
beh . . . . . . . . . . behavioural (material process)
Car . . . . . . . . . . Carrier
Circ . . . . . . . . . . Circumstance
cir . . . . . . . . . . . circumstantial (relational process)
Dom . . . . . . . . . Domain (macro-role)
exp . . . . . . . . . . experiencer process (subtype of material process)
Ext . . . . . . . . . . Extent (spatial/material Extent of a process)
Foc . . . . . . . . . . Focus (in information structure)
G............ Given
Go . . . . . . . . . . . Goal
Id . . . . . . . . . . . Identified
int . . . . . . . . . . . Intensive (relational process)
Ir . . . . . . . . . . . . Identifier
Loc:ed . . . . . . . . Located
mat . . . . . . . . . . material process
Med . . . . . . . . . Medium (macro-role)
men . . . . . . . . . . mental process (internal & external consciousness)
met . . . . . . . . . . meteorological (subtype of material process)
Mod . . . . . . . . . Modality
N............ New
(NR) . . . . . . . . . non-inherent role
Phen . . . . . . . . . Phenomenon
Posit:ed . . . . . . . Positioned
poss . . . . . . . . . possessive
Poss:ed . . . . . . . Possessed
Poss:er . . . . . . . Possessor
Pro . . . . . . . . . . Process
Ra . . . . . . . . . . . Range (in a material process)
rel . . . . . . . . . . . relational
res . . . . . . . . . . . resultative
Say . . . . . . . . . . Sayer
Sen . . . . . . . . . . Senser
sen . . . . . . . . . sensory (relational intensive) process
Th: int . . . . . . . . Theme: interpersonal
Th: top . . . . . . . Experiential Theme: Topical Theme
Th: sub . . . . . . . Subsidiary experiential theme
temp . . . . . . . . . temporary (relational intensive process)
Tk . . . . . . . . . . . Token
Vl . . . . . . . . . . . Value
Ver . . . . . . . . . . Verbiage
411
<A> Speaker A
<B> Speaker B
Phonological Conventions:
Bibliography:
Index:
aboutness 320-322 Bible, Finnish 149, 218, 352, 353
accusative 69, 82-84, 87-94, 96, 250, 260, 277, English Bible 215
291, 293, 294, 297 bound morpheme 77, 132, 212, 217, 224, 289,
action processes 256 fn 290, 301, 346-348, 351, 358
active clause (in English) 66, 302-306 boundedness 69, 82, 88, 89, 93, 94-99, 103,
Actor 63, 64, 111, 113, 116, 206, 209, 211, 257 106, 216, 227, 250, 260, 273, 277, 293, 300,
ff., 266, 288, 302-304, 331 301
actual (vs. potential) (see also potential) 23, 46, Brown and Yule’s approach to Given and New
115, 378 55, 308 ff.
adjectival phrase 119, 121 Carrier 5, 156, 215-219, 232, 234, 236, 238,
adverb 133, 241, 263-266, 273, 295, 321-322, 239, 241, 288, 371
343, 371 case, case-marking (Finnish case forms) 82 ff.,
criticism of traditional notion 126, 127, 260-263, 270-272, 276-277, 296-330
129, 130, 136, 377 case-role analysis (Fillmore) 206
adverbial of quantity case-marked like an object cataphoric demonstrative 155
261-262 category 18, 43, 46, 48-50, 60, 63-65, 209
adverbial phrase (AdvP) 133 causation 301, 304
Hakulinen & Karlsson’s adverbial phrase & causative affix 268, 269, 303, 304
adverb phrase 115 censorious passive 207
AdvP: see adverbial phrase central notions in SF theory Ch.2 (42 ff.)
agentless processes (cf. metaphor, experiential) chaos theory 276
101, 265 ff., 301 ff. characterizing demonstrative 155
agglutinative 74 check interrogative 194, 196
agnateness 66, 100, 103, 217, 228, 229, 232, child language 184
285, 298, 371 metaphor & child language 181
Agricola 72, 73, 75 Circumstance 115-116, 120, 133, 135, 141,
ambient process 214, 240-243, 256, 267, 364 193, 240-248, 253, 256, 327, 329, 338, 360,
analogy 67, 247, 379 363-365
ancillary (cf. constitutive) 29, 38, 187 circumstantial process 214, 244-256
arbitrary 40 ff., 45, 56 fn circumstantial role 211
association (vs. inclusion in circumstantial pro- class (social class) 17-18, 22, 24, 27, 73
cesses) 253 class (word class, class of units) 48, 114, 127,
assumptions (unexplicated assumptions about 131
language) 9 ff., 30, 376 ff. Classifier 114-116
Attribute (cf. genitive attribute) 5, 98, 156, clause 2-5, 46-47, 105-108, 137, 205
198, 214-219, 231, 232, 234-236, 238-242, clause complex: see separate entry
256, 371 clause vs. sentence (orthographical unit) 46,
attribution 214, 226 106-107
attributive intensive process: see intensive clause vs. tone group (phonological unit)
Austin 32, 36, 168 315
automative (automative-passive) 302 ff. elliptical (vs. full) clause 107, 108
autonomous linguistics 27, 28 major clause (clause) 108, 174
autosegmental phonology 2, 3 minimal clause 211
Bakhtin 15, 33, 35, 170, 183, 374 minor (vs. major) clause 108, 174, 180
Baltic-Finnic 70 clause as Theme 343 ff.
baseline (in grammatical description) (see also clause complex 46-48, 137-166, 280, 308,
metaphor) 55, 108, 178, 284, 315 341-346, 369
basic unit (vs. complex unit) 46-48, 105-106 function of clause complex 137, 146-148
behaviour potential 22, 23 clause-initial interpersonal element 339-340
behavioural process 265, 272-273 290 clause-initial textual element 339-340
436
cohesion 7, 40, 57, 143, 144, 159, 308, data (see also: corpus, computer corpora) 6-9,
327-329, 331-333, 354, 359, 373 12, 15, 43, 54, 66, 170, 226, 376-379
cohesive ties 373-374 data on which this study is based 6-7, 29
collocation 374 daughter-dependency 92
command 170, 172-190, 204, 346 ff. declarative 50, 52, 78, 81, 108, 109, 135, 167,
communicative competence 26 169-196, 197, 243, 313, 323, 334, 369
comparative affix 119, 130 decontextualized view of language 8, 29, 35,
competence and performance 17 365, 376, 377
complement adverbial (traditional Finnish default Theme (see also: Theme) 337-338
grammar) 233 defining (identifying) process: see intensive
complement (predikatiivi, traditional Finnish defining relative: see relative
grammar) 97-99, 150, 238, 241, 298 definition (vs. recognition) criteria 320
complement in English 198 deixis 82, 98, 114, 115, 121, 128, 135, 136,
complexes (basic vs. complex units) (see also 164, 165, 200, 218, 315, 317, 377
clause complex) 46-48, 105-106, 369 deictic centre 135, 136, 377
computer applications 43 deictic centre that is never explicated 135
computer corpora 8, 66, 101, 379 delicacy 3, 6, 43, 53, 54-55, 59, 60, 61, 63,
conflation 2, 49, 56, 198, 267, 315, 320, 325, 119, 167, 196, 210, 244, 245, 265, 274, 284,
362 288, 306, 376
congruent, congruency: see metaphor deontic modality 167, 189
conjunction 48, 139, 141-143, 148, 155, dependency (see also: taxis) 91, 92, 105, 106,
160-162, 195 109-111, 116, 120, 125, 139, 144, 165-166,
conjunction vs. conjunctive (discourse ad- 211
junct) 141-143 dependency & constituency 92, 109, 111
conjunctive adjunct 141, 332 dependency vs. embedding 149
consciousness (see also: human consciousness, dependent clause (vs. dominant) 139-146, 148,
mental process) 33, 34 149, 164, 167, 344-346
consonant gradation 75, 76 derivation 74, 112, 265, 301-306
constituency 3, 4, 47-50, 92, Ch.4 (esp. designed (vs. evolved) systems 64
105-112) dialectic between system and text 21, 207
constituency & dependency 92, 109, 111 dialectic between theory and description 12
clause as constituent of another clause (see dialectic (vs. causal) relation 55
also embedding, rank-shifting) 153 direct representation (vs. projection) 159, 162,
discontinuous constituent 111, 216 278
ordering of constituents (see word order) direct speech: see projection
ranked constituency 47-50, 105 ff. discontinuous constituent 111, 216
constitutive (vs. ancillary) 29, 38, 177 discourse formations (Lemke) 374
content interrogative 193, 221 Domain 42, 155, 213, 242, 243, 288, 290, 291,
context of situation 14, 19-21, 34-39, 42, 55, 296-298, 301, 306, 363, 364
59, 169, 175, 176, 377 dominant clause (vs. dependent) 139-146, 148,
contextual semantics 46 149, 164, 167, 344-346
contextual meaning (Firth) 14 dummy element 363
continuative 208, 373 dynamic (vs. synoptic) 21, 67-68, 146, 148,
continuing clause (vs. initiating) 139, 140, 143, 157, 287-288
145, 166, 369 E. Itkonen 8, 26, 33, 67, 212
contrastive New: see New educational linguistics 375
co-ordination: see parataxis elaboration (in expansion) 141
corpus 7, 8, 27-29, 101, 102, 283, 379 ellipsis (cf. non-realization) 79, 81, 107, 108,
corpus vs. knowledge 27-29, 101, 379 112, 117, 121, 144, 174, 243, 308-310, 345,
co-text 7, 129, 131, 169, 242, 243, 250, 251, 346, 349, 353, 373
365, 377 elliptical clause 107, 108
creation of meaning: see semogenesis
437
embedding (rankshifting) (see also clause, em- Finnish dialects 71, 72
bedded) 47-48, 91, 106, 120, 139, 146, 149, Finnish Sign Language 70
150, 153, 155-159, 162, 166, 170, 218, 223, Finno-Ugric 69, 70, 89
224, 279-281, 285, 287, 326, 338, 339, 341-344, first-order field 38
369, 371, 372 first-order reality 307
enhancement (in expansion) 141 Firth 2, 8, 12-21, 23, 43, 46, 51, 60, 63, 65, 68,
Entity (function in an NP) 114-118, 121-122, 122, 251, 300, 375, 376, 379
127-129 flux 68
Entity vs. Head in an NP 121-122, 127-129 focus (see: New, contrastive)
Entities as topical Theme 320 focus particles 127, 136, 316, 317
entry condition 113 form (vs. substance) 45-46, 54
epistemic modality 167, 189 form (importance of forms and structures) 63,
Epithet (function in an NP) 114, 115, 121 206-208
Estonian 69 form (grammar organized as meanings rather
ethnomethodological conversation analysis 9, than forms) 56-57
10, 176, 182 forward channel 195, 352
evolved (vs. designed) systems 64 free indirect speech 160, 163
evolution of SF theory 42 frequency (see: statistical analysis)
exchange (clause as exchange) 172-190 function of a clause complex 137, 146-148
existential clause 96, 102, 103, 248-249, 250, functional component (cf. metafunction) 56
291-301, 324, 362, 363 fuzziness 50, 142, 166, 190, 230, 253, 262, 265
existential subject (in traditional grammar) general circumstantial process 244-249, 253
102, 103, 291-301, 324 general linguistic theory 18
expansion (in complexes) 47, 48, 141, 166, 342 generic 35
Experiencer 267-272, 290-291, 347 genitive 82-84, 87-94, 96, 101, 103, 104, 114,
experiencer process 257, 267-272, 290, 303, 118, 123-128, 130, 134-136, 255, 260,
304, 358 269-272, 276, 277, 291, 293, 298, 362, 377
experiential meaning 37, 49-51, 57, 74, 210, genitive attribute (traditional grammar) 125
284, 329, 362 genitive-like accusative 88-90, 92, 93
experiential meaning & topical Theme 320 genre 7, 29, 35, 325, 364, 374, 376
ff. Given (see also: New) 5, 51, 55, 63, 220-225,
experiential structure 50-51, 68, 108, 111, 113, 292-301, 307-318, 332, 333, 335, 357,
205 ff. 360-362, 365, 368
experiential Theme: see Theme typically Given 315
exponence (see also realization) 43, 54 Given-New (information structure) 5, 51, 55,
expression (vs. realization) 55, 293 fn 220-221, 292-296, 300, 307-318, 332-333,
extended verb phrase 106 334-336, 357-339, 360, 365
extension (in expansion) 141 glosses 9, 93, 212, 321, 409, 410
Extent (spatial or temporal Extent) 133, Goal 63, 113, 116, 206, 209, 211, 247,
260-263, 266 257-265, 266, 272-273, 276-278, 290, 291,
external causation 301-305 296, 331, 332
face-to-face conversation ~ interaction 176- goods-&-services 172, 173, 177, 178, 180, 183,
177, 183 185-190
face-to-face language-in-action 177 grammatical case 84, 103
Facet (in English NP) 128 grammatical category 18, 64, 209
cf. Orientation 128-131 grammatical metaphor: see metaphor
fact (projected clause) 161-162, 281 grammatical proportionality 66-67
field (variable in context of situation) 37, 38,
59-60, 374
first-order field 38
Fillmore 176, 206
finite verb forms in Finnish 77-81
Finite (as an interactional function) 197 ff.
438
grammatical subject indefinite article in English 309-310
traditional definition 99-104, 292-301 (tra- indirect speech (see projection) 159-163, 278
ditional notion of “existential subject” individual (as defined by Firth) 16-17
reinterpreted as Domain) ineffability 18-19, 63-64, 311
as defined in this study 78, 99-100, 192, infinitives in Finnish 77, 85-87, 132, 167
201-204, 217, 241, 268, 271, 289 fn, number of infinitive & participial forms in
290, 308, 348-353 Finnish 132
grammatical subject in English 185-187, 1st infinitive 85-86
346 2nd infinitive 85-86
graphology 44, 46 3rd infinitive 85-86, 246, 247, 264
Greek letters 116, 139 information structure: see Given-New
group 46-48, 50, 54, 82, 105-106, 119, 153, inherent participant 88, 112, 132, 133, 202-203,
285 210-211
habitive clause 360-362 inherent role 211, 216, 218, 218, 220, 233-235,
Hakulinen & Karlsson (1979) 105, 115-116, 240, 244, 250, 257, 269, 274, 276, 284, 302,
121, 125-126, 133, 170, 176, 205-206, 215, 308, 346-348, 371, 376-378
227, 233, 235, 237-239, 241-243, 253, 257, initiating clause (in paratactic complex) 139-
261, 263, 269-272, 276, 292, 323 140, 142, 143, 145, 166, 312
Head 54, 82, 91-93, 110, 114-128, 133, 216, Instigator 268-269, 304
233, 236, 253, 281, 321, 326, 338, 339, 362 integrated lexicogrammar 60-63, 112, 206, 265
Head in a Finnish PP 125 intensive relational process 54, 97, 210,
hedge 182, 183 214-236, 237, 240-241, 251, 256, 258, 264,
heteroglossia 7, 170, 183, 380 288, 305, 371
historical linguistics 89-90, 93 fn, 123 attributive 156, 214-218, 223, 226, 229,
historical overview of SF theory 43 231-236, 239, 283, 371
Hjelmslev 14, 21, 44 identifying 54, 214-215, 219-230, 232,
Hockett 64 234, 251, 289, 371
host clause 149-156, 162, 166, 279, 338, defining, naming, exemplifying 223,
341-343, 369 227
human consciousness (in mental processes) other intensive processes 231, 233, 234, 236
161-162, 257, 274, 278-279, 306, 371 resultative 203, 231-235, 264, 305
Hungarian 70 sensory 236
Hymes 26, 59 temporary 231, 233, 234
hypostatization (see also: reification) 18 interactional function 186, 197-201
hypotaxis (see also: taxis) 90, 91, 116, 123, interactional structure in the clause Ch.5 (167
139-146, 149-151, 166-167, 344-345 ff.)
idea (projected clause) 161-162, 164-167 interactive event (clause as interactive event)
ideational meaning 36-37 4, 172-173, 186, 188, 198, 199, 202
Identified 150, 214, 215, 220, 221, 223-227, interdependency (see also: taxis) 37, 138, 139,
234, 251, 288, 353 161, 166
Identifier 214, 220, 221, 224-227, 234 interface (semantics as an interface) 37, 59,
identifying relational process: see intensive 173, 175
ideology 1, 375 internal human consciousness (see: human con-
illocutionary force 197 sciousness)
imperative 52, 79-81, 89, 167, 169-196, 198, inter-organism perspective 25-26
204 interpersonal meaning 36, 51, 57, 167, 200,
impersonal verb 101 307
inclination (modality) 4, 189, 271 interpersonal theme: see clause-initial interper-
inclusion (vs. association in circumstantial pro- sonal element
cesses) 253 interpretative source 129, 243, 365
inclusive processes 237-239, 256 interrogative 167-170, 172-174, 176, 187
indefinite form (“Finnish passive”) 77-81, 87, English 52, 174, 313, 346
89, 102, 112-113, 208, 304-306, 364, 371
439
Finnish 81, 135, 145-146, 154, 170-171, theory-based & metafunctionally organized
181, 187, 192-198, 221, 313, 334, 343, 205
346 lexis as most delicate grammar 60-63, 112,
interrogative and Key 313 206, 265
content interrogative 193-194 linguistic behaviour potential 22
content check interrogative 194-195 location vs. movement in Finnish PPs 124, 130
polar interrogative 81, 160, 192, 313, 334 locative case 82, 84, 240, 244, 247, 276, 278
intertextuality 11, 375, 380 locative cases & PPs 123-124, 130
intonation (see also: Key, Given-New) 51, locution (projected clause) 160, 161-162, 164,
147, 148, 169, 171, 194, 313, 318 166, 167
intra-organism perspective 25-26 logical approach to language 32, 100-101, 210,
intratextuality 208, 375 215, 223, 227
intuition (see also: knowledge) 8, 26, 28, 29, logical relations construed by language (see
376, 377 also logical meaning) 116, 197-198
inverted ergative system 297 logical meaning 36-37, 48-49, 50, 58
Jespersen 292 logical operator 197
Keller 286 London School 13
kernel sentences 205 macro-role 201, 290, 298
Key 30, 156, 191, 289, 290, 301, 334, 372 macrophenomenon 279-283
kin-particle in Finnish 74, 96, 151, 296, 301, major clause (see also clause) 113
315-318, 324-325, 328, 332, 333, 357 major process types 213
kirjakieli: see standardized written Malinowski 19, 36
knowable (definite article) 311 manifestation clause 346, 360, 363
knowability of reality 31 mapping view (vs. reality construction) 30, 31
know ledge of language (cf. intuition) 6-8, 11, marked vs. unmarked 52, 79, 215, 315-318,
13, 25-29, 31, 34, 67, 144, 212, 259, 319, 325, 332, 334-336, 349-358
319, 372, 378, 379 marked information focus 316-318, 325, 332,
knowledge (its accumulation & grammatical 334-336, 349-358
metaphor) 287-288 material process 52, 54, 61, 111, 213, 222, 233,
knowledge, shared 309-311 241, 246, 253, 256-273, 275-278, 287, 288,
kokijalause 269 290, 294, 296, 297, 306, 314, 316, 371
ko/kö-interrogative 194-196 matrix clause (see also: clause) 91, 282
Kuhn 11, 28, 30 meaning (see also: semantics, semogenesis,
labels, labelling (of grammatical categories) metafunctions) 7, 19-21, 34-39, 44-46,
64, 66, 114, 128, 185, 209-210, 222, 234, 50-51, 56-59, 60-62, 372-375
239, 249, 251, 274, 282, 298, 299 act of meaning 2
language and mind 33-34 clause meaning:
language-in-action 177, 184 as exchange 167
language myth 28 as model of reality 205-207
language-specificness (of categories) 18, 209 textual meaning 307
langue 17, 20, 23, 24 clause complex, meaning of 137, 146-147
Lappish: see Saame lexical meaning 60-63, 206, 265
Latin-based categories 100, 139, 161, 262 meaning as a mental process 19, 34
lausepaino (see stress) 314 meaning as a mode of behaviour 13, 19
levels in language (planes, strata) 45-46 meaning potential 23
lexical metaphor: see metaphor meaning & grammatical labels 64
lexicogrammar 44-46, 60, 112, 181, 265, 315 Measure 121, 122
integrated lexicogrammar 60-63, 112, 206, Medium 104, 201, 204, 213, 288-291, 298,
265 301, 304, 306, 348, 352
lexicogrammar & metafunctions 56, 59 medium (spoken vs. written) 38, 68, 79, 352
lexicogrammar & the tone group 315 mental process 50, 101, 162, 165, 260, 263,
lexicogrammatical resources 7, 21 264, 269, 274-283, 289, 290, 369, 371
440
mental process, meaning as a mental process non-finite 85, 86, 115, 119, 120, 150, 160, 183,
19, 34 190, 278, 279, 281-283, 287, 369
metafunction 56-58, 60, 242, 307, 365 non-inherent role 111, 211, 212, 216, 284
metaphenomenon 166, 279, 280 non-productive 85
metaphor 55, 67, 179-183, 284-288, 300, 306 non-realization (vs. ellipsis) 121 fn, 308,
congruent, congruent realization 55, 56, 345-348, 365
177-183, 187, 284, 285, 287 norm 75, 177, 181
congruent and metaphorical at the same not previously mentioned 312
time 55-56, 180-181 NP: see nominal phrase
grammatical metaphor 55-56, 179-183, Numerative 121, 122, 128
284-288, 306 object 87-88, 94, 271, 278, 288-300
interpersonal (interactional) 179-183 objectivist approaches 31, 310
experiential 284-288 obligation (modality) 4, 36, 167, 189, 271
lexical metaphor 179, 284, 287 offer 173, 175, 177, 183, 185-190, 195, 204,
meteorological process 241, 242, 257, 346
265-267, 290, 303, 364 Ogden and Richards 19, 39
minimal clause 211 option 22, 52, 54, 61, 108, 152, 178, 179, 188,
minor clause 108, 180 196, 201, 301, 306
mnemonic device 64, 209-210 Orientation (in p-positional phrase) 128, 131,
modality 4, 32, 36, 58, 132, 167, 182, 189, 191, 134, 135
199, 200, 223, 271 orientation to action 80, 184-190, 204, 369
semantic space between positive and nega- OSMA (objektinsijainen määrän adverbiaali)
tive 189 fn, 199 261-262
modalization (probaility, usuality) 167, 189 paradigm 11, 35, 80, 176
modulation (obligation, inclination) 4, 167, paradigmatic relations 51-53
189, 191, 199 parataxis (co-ordination) 48, 139-146, 149,
mode (variable in context of situation) 37-38, 155, 166, 167, 369
59-60 parole 23
mode of behaviour 19, 34 part-to-part relationship 109
mode of meaning 20, 56 part-to-whole relationship 109
Modifier 54, 117-119, 121-123, 125-130, 134, passive: see indefinite or automative
136, 247, 255, 261, 262 English passive 63, 66, 301-302
mood 4, 36, 52, 61, 145, Ch.5 (167 ff.) personality 16, 17
mood marker 197, 198 Phenomenon 274-281, 290
mood option 179 types of Phenomena 279-280
morphology 44, 73, 74, 77, 112, 305, 347, 358, phonological prominence 309, 310, 312
378 phonology 2, 3, 14, 20, 45, 46, 54
morphophonological variation 78 phrase 46-48, 54, 57, 82, 106-108, 113-115,
multi-structural and polysystemic 14, 15 118, 119, 121-123, 125, 131, 133, 150, 153,
multivariate 51, 68 155, 309, 326, 369
negative (auxiliary) verb 80-81, 132, 201 planes in language (levels, strata) 44-46
network 35, 52, 61, 62, 167, 174, 196 polar interrogative 81, 160, 192, 313, 334
New (see also: Given, Given-New) 5, 51, 55, polarity (negative vs. positive) 32, 89, 95-97,
220-225, 292-301, 307-318, 323, 325, 100, 102-104, 132, 192, 199-210, 233, 250,
331-333, 336, 349-357, 360, 362, 363, 365, 261, 285, 294
373, 379 Polish dative 361
contrastive New (focus, contrastive focus) polyphonic 3, 122, 325, 368, 375
312, 315-318, 323, 325, 331-333, 336, polysystemic & multistructural 14, 15
349-357 Popper 28
nominal phrase (NP, nominal group) 46, 82, Positioned 244, 245, 249, 253-255, 286
106-107, 114-122 Possessed 249, 250, 252, 294
nominalization 287, 288 possessive deictic 98
nominative-like accusative 88
441
possessive process 214, 244, 249-256, 269, purpose of this study 1-3
272, 294, 358 question 168-189
possessive suffix 85, 90, 98, 102, 114, 123, Range 272-273, 284, 285, 289, 290
125, 203, 331 rank 43, 44, 46-49, 54, 58, 105-110, 112-114,
Possessor 64, 249-252 137, 139, 149, 151, 153, 155, 179, 209, 210,
postmodification 118 279, 284, 306, 344, 365, 367, 372, 376
postposition: see p-position rank hierarchy hypothesis 47, 49, 105, 108-110,
potential 3, 22-24, 43, 47, 48, 53, 79, 113, 115, 112-112, 137
146, 174, 191, 198, 284, 375 rank scale 46-48, 106-109, 113, 137
PP: see p-positional phrase rank-shifting (see also: embedding) 106, 109
p-position (pre- or postposition) 123, 125-129, ranked constituency 49, 105, 108
130, 135-136, 322, 377 reality construction:
p-positional phrase (pre- or postpositional Grace: 30, 31, 39
phrase, PP) 123, 125-129, 130, 135-136, Halliday: 33, 64, 375
322, 377 realization 43-45, 49, 54-55, 121 fn, 175,
pragmatics 39, 376, 378 177-179, 181, 284, 293 fn, 311
pre- and postpositional phrase (PP) 76, 105, received view in traditional grammar 69
106, 114, 115, 122-125, 125, 133, 156, 173, accusative 87-94
212, 217, 244, 260, 261, 290, 377 direct & indirect speech 159, 160-161
preposition: see p-position existential subject 102-103, 292 fn
previously mentioned 312, 315 genitive subject 103-104
primary clause (vs. secondary) 139 subject 99-104
principle of grammaticalization 63 received view of language (cf. assumptions) 8,
prism 20, 122, 300, 376 11, 28-29
probability 4, 36, 167, 189, 271 received view in historical linguistics 88-89, 93
Process 210-211 fn
process type 49, 65, 213 recognition (vs. definition) criteria 320
projection 138, 139, 146, 155, 159-166, 189, recontextualization 42, 49, 378
258, 275, 278-283, 285, 338 referatiivinen lauseenvastike (see also: projec-
direct & indirect speech 159, 160, 161, 163 tion) 282
direct vs. indirect as meaningful distinction reference 39-42
164 referent 32, 39, 40, 215
dramatic flavour of quoting (direct speech) reification 18, 20, 322
164 relational process (see also: intensive, general
fact 161 circumstantial, possessive, ambient, inclu-
free indirect 162 sive) 5, 214-256, 258, 263, 264, 269, 283,
human consciousness 161-162, 257, 274, 297, 306, 371
278-279, 306, 371 relative clause, relativization 138-139,
idea 161 149-159, 341-343
locution 161 relevance of defining vs. non-defining to
projection in mental processes 278-283 Finnish 149-153, 155
quote 162 intonational differences & punctuation in
report 162 English 152, 152 fn
person (pronouns, personal endings) 78-81 renewal of connection 12, 21, 379
1. and 2. person 78-81, 113-114, 201 ff, repeatedly meant 374, 375
212, 290, 358-359 repetition (as cohesive tie) 354, 375
proposal 186, 189, 199, 204, 347, 371 report: see projection
proposition 100, 190, 199, 204 reported speech: see projection
prosody 10, 14, 51, 149, 197, 311, 313, 314, reporting clause equivalent (see also: projec-
317, 368, 372 tion) 281
prototype 65, 66, 166, 276 Research Centre for Domestic Languages 73
prototypical subject 101 residue 197, 198
Proto-Uralic 89, 90 restricted language 15, 16
442
restrictive relative clause: see relative clause standardized written Finnish 72-73, 78-81
resultative (aspect) 94 statistics, statistical frequency 60, 101-102, 226
resultative intensive process: see intensive stratum (see also plane) 14, 44, 54
rhetorical function 167-170, 173, 175-176, 191 stress 313-314
rich and poor (analogy of rich vs. poor) 167 structuralism 20
role 1, 4, 28, 32, 33, 37, 210-212 structure
Romany 70 as non-random organization 3, 49-51, 276
Russia 70, 89 Firth 14-15
Saame 70, 72, 110 in scale and category grammar 43
salient in SF grammar 3, 49-51, 52, 276
contextually salient 309 multivariate structure 50-51
experientially salient 122, 128 univariate structure 50-51
phonological salience: see tonic promi- subject, English 185-187
nence, phonological prominence, stress subject, Finnish:
Sayer 274, 280, 289 dispersion/deconstruction of “exis-
scale, scale of abstraction 43 tential subject” 292
scale and category grammar 13, 43, 46, 52, 60 formally defined subject realizes Medium
scope of this study 1-4, 367 100, 201-204, 288-291
Searle 35, 168, 197 traditionally defined in Finnish 99-104
second-order field 38 subjectless clause 101, 102, 201, 204, 242, 290,
second-order reality 307 324
secondary clause (vs. primary) 139 submodification 92, 119
self-engendering 101, 301-304, 306 subordination (see also: hypotaxis) 48, 90,
semantic continuum 60, 90, 112 117, 139, 149, 151, 166
semantic variant 179-180 subscript (to indicate cross-referencing) 212
semantics (see also: meaning, semogenesis, subsidiary topical Theme: see Theme
text semantics) 19, 34-39, 44-46, 56-60, substance (form vs. substance) 45-46, 54
175, 372-375 substitution (cohesive tie) 326, 373
semi-transitive verb 276 Swedish 70, 72, 74, 75, 107, 192, 292
semogenesis (meaning-making, creation of symmetry 187, 188, 229, 230
meaning) 16, 23, 31, 32, 38, 53, 67, 181, synoptic (vs. dynamic) 21, 67, 68, 109-111,
182, 207, 208, 284, 378 148, 149, 287
semiosis 208 syntagm 108, 278, 378, 379
semiotic potential (see also: potential, mean- syntagmatic relation 14, 20, 49, 51, 113
ing) 23, 284, 375 system (i.e. systematicity, overall organization,
Senser 50, 274, 281, 282, 289 cf. langue)
sensory process: see intensive as semogenic resource: see semogenesis
sentence (orthographical unit cf. clause) 46, designed vs. evolved 63-64
106-107 Firth 17
SF theory 2-4, Ch.2 (13 ff.) Halliday 23-24
shared information 312 Hjelmslev’s system & process 21
signifiant 40, 293 system and text 21, 378
simple dichotomy 79, 352 system (i.e. paradigmatic options in a particular
simultaneous paradigmatic options 52 context or environment)
singulary branching 47, 106, 109, 113 Firth 14-15
situational meaning 14 scale and category grammar 43
spatial Extent 260-263 SF grammar 49-53
speech act theory 168-169 fn, 182 system and structure 14, 21, 52, 53
speech act pronoun (see also person, 1. and 2.) Firth 14-15
347, 352-353, 358, 361 scale and category grammar 43
speech fellowship 16, 17 SF grammar 49-53
speech function (cf. rhetorical function) 174, taxis (interdependency, see also: hypotaxis,
176, 177, 179, 183, 186, 189, 346 parataxis) 149-166
443
taxonomy of information status (Prince) 309 univariate 50, 51, 68
temporary intensive process: see intensive unknowability of reality 31
tenor (variable in context of situation) 37, 38, unmarked 52, 104, 191, 242, 243, 284, 303,
59, 60 311, 313-316, 318, 325, 362
textual meaning 37, 51, 144, 218, Ch.7 (307 unmodified p-position 135
ff.) unspecified human participant (see also: indefi-
textual structure 57, Ch.7 (307 ff.) nite) 112, 304
thematic formation (Lemke) 374 Uralic 69, 70, 89, 90
Theme 308, 319-345 usuality (modality) 4, 189, 271
clause as Theme 338-339, 343-344 vai-interrogative: see interrogative, content
default Theme 337 check 195
entities as topical Theme 320 ff. Value 14, 20, 41, 212, 225, 226, 229, 325, 340,
experiential Theme: see topical Theme 356
predicated Theme 336 variables:
subsidiary topical Theme 327-333, 343, in interactive event 173
354, 355, 359 in context of situation 37-38
subsidiary topical Theme in relative clause variation (dialectic & diatypic) 18, 21, 23, 24,
343 27, 34, 79, 166, 192, 193, 349, 353
topic: see topical Theme morphonological variation 78
topical Theme 319-326 verb phrase (VP) 106, 112-113, 131-132
topical Theme & aboutness 320-322, 336- extended verb phrase 106
339 Verbiage 274, 278, 281, 282, 290
topical Theme: basic definition (cf. follow- virke 10, 106
ing entries) 322-323 vowel harmony 76, 77
topical Theme & 1. & 2. person 348-359 VP: see verb phrase
(esp. 357-358) Vygotsky 33, 34
topical Theme in post-verbal position Watch this! function 312, 314
334-336 Whorf 28, 50, 63-64
clause as Theme 338-339, 343-344 word order 74, 110, 192, 215-216, 218-219,
theme in clause complex 341-345, 371 232, 307, 315, 318, 325, 327, 332, 334, 335,
Theme-Rheme 319-345 350
topic-worthiness 322, 336, 337 word order as indicator of Key 334-335
Theme-Rheme 319 word order & unmarked information struc-
theory (per se) 9-12, 375, 378-380 ture 315
thought dependent on semiotic systems 31 word order & marked information structure
Token 26, 225, 226, 229, 251, 255, 380 318, 332, 334, 350
tone group 5, 191, 218, 300, 307, 311-315, 317, ordering of clauses 149, 344-345
318, 365, 368, 372
tonic prominence 311, 313-318, 350, 357
transitive-intransitive dichotomy 256
tree diagram 47, 110, 111, 137
triplanar organization of language 44
truth (falsity, morality) 31, 32, 36, 200-201
truth-conditional semantics 31, 32, 56, 189,
200, 201, 215
tulosrakenne 231
types of structure 27, 36, 37, 49, 55, 59, 61, 84,
88, 105, 106, 108, 115, 119, 120, 141, 161,
167, 210, 211, 244, 266, 279, 373, 376
typicality 24, 53, 59, 124, 177, 178
unit 4, 10, 46-48, 51, 56, 68, 91-93, 105-107,
110, 125, 137, 180, 182, 195, 307, 313, 314,
315