The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis and Shielded Subjects in Malagasy

A non-working entrance 

A non-working entrance 

One of the more heady ideas one encounters in the history of ideas is the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis (also known as the Whorf Hypothesis, Whorfianism, and linguistic relativism). The idea is that one’s native language dramatically shapes the ways in which one thinks. Whorf’s original emphasis was on grammar; the grammar of a language, he thought, determines the thought patterns that its native speakers are capable of embodying. Because there are significant differences in the grammars of all languages, there is therefore significant differences in the way people think over the world. The differences may indeed be severe, according to this idea. The idea that there is universal thought process that is equally expressible by all the world’s languages is false if a strong version of the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis is true.

Not many people think that a strong version of this idea is true, but a more qualified one might be. I want to discuss how certain facts about the Malagasy voice system and the current use of voice in Malagasy may explain certain characteristics of the Malagasy people. As such, this is far from a full defense of a strong version of the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis. I try to draw out how a unique voice in Malagasy not found in English may be part of an explanation for why Malagasy people are typically more reserved and less likely to talk about themselves than Americans. First, I will make some points about voice and then go from there.

English has two voices: active and passive. Here are two examples.

Active:  John carried the ball.

Passive: The ball was carried by John.

John is the subject of the sentence in the active voice and the ball is the subject of the sentence in the passive voice. Typically, the active voice is used in English. The passive voice is common if it is not known who the actor is or if one wants to draw attention to the object of the action. For example, if there was a theft and the culprit is unknown, the following two sentences are perhaps equally common.

Active: Someone stole the computer.

Passive: The computer was stolen.

However, in most cases, the active voice is used in English, drawing attention to the actors of actions.

This is not the case in Malagasy; things are typically put in one of the two non-active voices. First, let me explain the three voices. Just as in English, Malagasy has an active and passive voice. There is also a circumstantial or relative voice used when one talks about the circumstances surrounding some action.  Consider some examples.

            Active: Mitondra baolina i Tovo. (Tovo carries the ball.)

            Passive: Entin’ i Tovo ny baolina. (The ball is carried by Tovo.)

Malagasy is also V + O + S in it’s structure, meaning that the verb comes first, then the objects next and then the subject last. The circumstantial voice is used if one wants to draw attention to the circumstances of an action, such as the circumstances surrounding Tovo carrying the ball. This can include any of the following:

  • the time he carries the ball
  •  the place to where or from where he carries the ball
  •  the manner in which he carries the ball
  • what the ball was used to do
  • the reason the ball was carried
  • how much carrying the ball costs
  • the person for whom it was carried

In addition there are some other uses that are orthogonal to the main point here, so I leave them out. One can see that there are many different circumstances related to the carrying of a ball that would trigger the use of the circumstantial voice. There is no such analog in English, though we can say things like the following.

            Active: His sister is the person for whom Tovo carries the ball.

Putting things this way, draws attention to the sister and the fact that the ball is carried for her. But no extra voice is used. The sentence is still in the active voice. Not so in Malagasy.

            Circumstantial: Ny anabaviny no itondran’ i Tovo ny baolina.

‘No’ is used to invert the normal syntax and display the subject first instead of last in the sentence. It is common to see this use in instances of the circumstantial voice, which like the passive voice has a distinct form of the verb ‘mitondra’. Also, the circumstantial and passive voice in Malagasy both have agent phrases, that is, the marker for the agent is added at the end of the verb. The circumstantial verb is ‘itondrana’ and ‘Tovo’ is added to the end of the verb as above. The same is true of the passive. It is also possible to leave off the agent phrase. If we do so in the above sentence we get.

            Circumstantial: Ny anabaviny no itondrana ny baolina.  

This means His sister is whom the ball is carried for.  The point here is that the actors who perform the actions can get tacked on, as it were, to the end of the verbs that expresses the action. (One might also note that in the normal syntax, the subject comes last and therefore differs from English where the subject comes first, but this does not seem very significant to me.) The use of the agent phases have the effect, I think, of shielding the actor of the action from attention. Yes, the actor is mentioned, but the attention is draw not to the actor but to some circumstantial feature of the action—just as the subject is shielded from attention in the use of the passive voice as well, where the attention is drawn to the object of the action and not the actor who performs it. So, Malagasy has more voices than English, but so what?

I gave the way to say that Tovo carries the ball in Malagasy in both the active and passive voice in my examples above. And from experience it is much more common to hear the passive voice than the active voice. This is not merely a subjective impression, though. Through quantitative analysis, Keenan and Manorohanta (2001) document that the non-active voices are used 10 times as frequently in Malagasy as compared to English.  This is a striking fact, and one that no doubt confirms the subjective impressions of non-native speakers. Of course, part of the explanation for this increased frequency is that English is missing a circumstantial voice. However, that is not to the point here. My idea is that the Malagasy language not only has more resources for putting things in a non-active voice but that things are often also put more frequently in a non-active voice. Children grow up internalizing these speech patterns just as their parents did, so they use them too, and thereby shield the actor or performer of the action more so than their counterparts who grow up speaking English. This must be part of the explanation for the fact that Malagasy are more reserved than Americans and less likely to talk about themselves and draw attention to themselves. An excellent book series for learning Malagasy, Malagasy Course for Foreigners by Razafindrabe, Ralahatra and Ravaorimalala, notes, in Volume 1, that “A Malagasy thinks more of the thing which is done than of the agent that does the action. So the passive voice is more commonly used” (105). The point carries over to the circumstantial voice, too. The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis is relevant here because it is not as if Malagasy people are constantly consciously favoring the passive and circumstantial voices over the active. If they were, they would not be puzzled when you ask them questions about the different voices! In fact, when you talk to most of them about these voices, they will report not having consciously thought about them before—just as I’m sure most English speakers would do if you ask them about the difference between the past tense and the past perfect tense or some other grammar point in English. Malagasy favor using non-active voices in some circumstances because they have been conditioned to use those voices in those types of circumstances. The point is not that they are more passive by nature and therefore consciously opt for the non-active voices. The point is that their relatively more reserved nature (when compared with Americans) is a function of not merely the voicing system of Malagasy but how that voicing system is put to use in practice. It is not as if the reservedness developed independently of the voicing system and its use, and the voicing system gives the resources for a passive people to shield themselves from attention. Rather, the thought and culture was shaped by the voicing system and its use. If that is true, and it seems it is, then some version of the Whorf-Hypothesis is vindicated. There is no doubt more to say about the details. 

Back to the Country

I made it outside of the capital for the first time since we got here. The Anglophone Studies Department had a party to celebrate the beginning of the New Year. They arranged a nice get-together at a place about 18 km outside of the capital. It was fun to socialize with my co-workers outside of official departmental activity. It was also the first time in a long time that I had been in the Malagasy countryside or 'ambanivohitra' in Malagasy (which literally means at the bottom of the hills). The pictures are a good representation of what villages look like in the central highlands, the mountainous region of central Madagascar. 

Ambanivohitra

Ambanivohitra

I can't tell you how great it felt to be there in the country (although I felt a bit guilty because the rest of the family was still at home in the capital). For me, this is where I feel most at home in Madagascar, because the village Emily and I lived in as Peace Corps Volunteers, Ambatofinandrahana, was on the southern part of the highlands, in the Betsileo region. In the rural highlands you typically see hills ringing villages, dirt roads, small shops that sell basic goods, people working in the fields, resplendent rice patties, zebu ambling down the road, always followed by a boy of seven or eight swatting at them with a switch.

Omby anakiroa

Omby anakiroa

There is peace and relaxation to be found here. There is natural beauty, clear skies and clean air to be drunk in. People live close to the earth, work hard and don't rush things. Village life is by no means perfect. It's true that people in villages in the highlands ought to have better access to clean water, better access to health care, and more economic opportunities, but from my time as a Peace Corps volunteer I have always been struck by the goodness and beauty of the sheer simplicity of life in the village. People aren't always rushing to finish things and constantly harried, people talk to each other more than they do in the states, and people watch out for each other. Of course, there are more backdrops to life in Madagascar, but this is the one that will forever remain closest to my heart. The one that makes me the happiest. The one that makes me feel the most full of life and joy. The one that showed me that I could live a life stripped clean of the unnecessary conveniences of the modern world. The one that showed me the true core of it once those excesses had been peeled back. Since we left Ambatofinandrahana in early 2009, perhaps partly because we had to rush to leave because we were evacuated, I have felt like I left a life of real value behind in the Malagasy countryside. I don't quite see a path before me that takes me back to that very same life, but my current path has brought me very close, so close in fact that I no longer feel like I abandoned a life. I am here, and it sits clearly before me. I can touch it. I can breathe it in.

A Pause for Some Things

Things have slowed down here in Antananarivo, Madagascar's sprawling and bustling capital. Since my previous time here (2007-2009), the traffic has become worse. And none of Tana's residents would deny that. But with the holiday break, large parts of town are seeing traffic flowing more smoothly and one can get around with more ease. There's space for some breathing, it seems. The downtown area, though, is experiencing its usual gridlock. Although forever crushed with people, the famous Avenue de L'Independence is certainly not without its charms. At the northwest end of the avenue, there is a beautiful train station, called Gare Soarano, which was built by the French, as part of the railway system they built during colonialization.

 

Soarano Train Station

Soarano Train Station

 It's one of the main tourist attractions in town. The train no longer runs, so it stands as something of a fading reminder of colonialism. There are some upscale shops there and a spacious cafe, so it offers a bit of a relief from the crush of the downtown area, which includes neighborhoods like Analakely, Tsaralalana, Isoraka, Ampasamandinika, Behoririka and Antanimena. You have to be mindful of pickpockets as you go, but it is fun to walk around and take everything in, though there are ever present reminders of the extreme poverty of Madagascar; many street children and beggars stay on the famous Avenue de L'Independence. Higher up, the streets turn to cobblestone and they twist and turn around historic churches, tourist hotels, restaurants, stores, and iconic two-story Malagasy homes.

 Street scene in Ampasamadinika, as downtown climbs off the Avenue

 Street scene in Ampasamadinika, as downtown climbs off the Avenue

Though it is still crowded and full of spectacle, even Tana's downtown seems to have relaxed a bit for the holiday. It's not just here of course but there, too. And it's a pause for a variety of things. Here's hoping that its a space for many individual reflections, happy accidents, catchings of breath, deep exhales, fitful sleeps, deep dreams, fits of laughter, good meals with friends, and perhaps most importantly, some fresh hopes for new beginnings. May we all experience bumps previously unseen that propel us to somewhere better, to some things new, as we all work on our individual and collective dreams. Happy New Year! Tatry ny taom-baovao!

Fianakaviana (Family)

Holy, me, Tojo

Holy, me, Tojo

I have talked on this blog about the Malagasy concept of fihavanana which one can roughly translate as kinship or friendship that is not based on blood ties but rooted in a shared cultural heritage. The more I think about it, the more I think that it is a concept that requires some experiential knowledge to fully grasp. By experiential knowledge, I basically mean knowledge based on experience. Perhaps one must get a feel for fihavanana in order to really understand it. The idea here is that one must live in the culture or experience instances of the concept first hand to truly understand it. If that isn't true, though, then at the very least we can surely say that it is a concept that resists easy translation. In my own case, I grasped the concept based on some great experiences. Some of the first people to show me about fihavanana were our host family in a town called Manjakandriana at the beginning of our Peace Corps service in June of 2007. We lived with them for 10 weeks, eating all of our meals with them and receiving countless hours of language instruction. The first night we stayed there, we were not able to communicate much to them. We gave them a gift and showed them pictures of our family and Florida, where we are from. I can’t remember who gave us the idea to bring a gift and photos but it was a great one. Over time, through their patience and kindness, they taught us about the Malagasy language, Malagasy culture and—perhaps of most immediate importance to us—how to survive in a rural setting in Madagascar. It is not easy to have someone live with you for that long, but they were gracious throughout and never seemed to tire of my incessant questioning about the Malagasy language. We had the chance to see one of our host brothers, Tojo, previously, but yesterday we were reunited with our host sister, Holy. She and her family, along with Tojo, came to our apartment for a visit. Holy got married during our Peace Corps service to Harivola (who we also met in Manjakandriana) and now has three very well-behaved children. It was nice to catch up with them all and meet the kids. We got to bring them voandalana which means gift/s from the road. A book, a puzzle and a set of stickers for the kids and Coastal Carolina gear for the parents. Seeing them again brought back many memories of trying to communicate in the beginning.  While we can communicate with ease now in Malagasy, I remember well the difficult experience to be thrust into a foreign culture with extremely limited language skills. No doubt it built character, but it was a struggle at times! We needed their help to be able to live in Madagascar, and they were happy to give it. For that I am eternally grateful. Holy now runs a restaurant in Tana, and Tojo works there.  I will be going by soon. We also need to see our host parents and our other host brothers (Tafita and Rado). They all taught us about fihavanana and what it means to be a Malagasy family or fianakaviana (as they say here). I feel very blessed that we got to see them again and look forward to many more visits during the rest of our time here. 

Fotoan-gasy

The campus of the University of Antananarivo

The campus of the University of Antananarivo

Øyvind Dahl has an excellent book on communication in Madagascar—Meanings in Madagascar (1999). He lived here for a long time and mastered the language. The book is about communication in Madagascar and is very helpful for Westerners who want to understand the Malagasy worldview. A chapter of the book is dedicated to Malagasy time concepts. There are two primary claims that he makes about Malagasy conceptualization of time. First, that Malagasy people actually think of the future coming from behind or from the past to meet up with them. Second, there are three distinct ways of thinking about time that, to various degrees, structure people’s worldview: linear, cyclical, and event-related conceptions of time. As for the second of the two claims, I think that he is correct. One does see these distinct ways of thinking of time at work in the general Malagasy worldview, and this is related to a very common expression ‘fotoan-gasy’, which literally means Malagasy time. People will often use this expression, especially around foreigners, to express different norms of time in Western and Malagasy cultures. Time is flexible in many social settings here. Things do not typically happen at preset times in Madagascar. There is more improvisation when it comes to meetings. I learned about this concept first hand when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ambatofinandrahana. A new semester was approaching, so my counterpart and I were discussing the date of the regular teacher meeting. I was perplexed as he explained that the meeting would happen when it was time. “Well, what day is that?” I remember asking, and he could not provide a date. He endeavored to explain that the meeting would happen when it was time—when the time was ripe. This is just one example of fotoan-gasy. Dahl explains that it embodies more event-related conception of time as opposed to linear conception of time. The linear conception predominates in the West. Meetings happen at preset times and they can be fixed well into the future. The future is seen as a stretch of time before an observer and it can be thought about abstractly in terms of various units. Linear conceptions are integral to detailed planning about the future. Event-related conceptions involve thinking of time as being driven by events. Dahl explains as follows: “Every action and one’s relations with others are organized from the experience of an event. When something happens, for instance, when the roof starts leaking—one takes action, but not before, even if one is aware of the damage to the roof. The event—the leak—triggers the action—the repair” (Dahl 1999: 48). This way of planning for the future is very central to the Malagasy worldview. Dahl also notes that there are elements of cyclical conceptions of time that predominant in the countryside where subsistence farmer is done by nearly everyone. These farmers think of time as reoccurring as their internal clocks get set to the rhythms of the days and the seasons. Dahl notes, rightly I think, that in any individual you have a melding of these three conceptions. And he is surely right that both successful communication and living in Madagascar require that one realize that an event-related conception of time is a central part of the Malagasy worldview and culture. As for the first idea, though, I think he is wrong. I don’t think that people see the future as coming from behind. His case for this relies on translating various terms and phrases used to talk about the future. Here is one example. The term ‘aoriana’ is used to talk about the future, for example “Aorian’ ity herinandro ity hovitako ny asa,” which means After this week, the job will be finished by me. ‘Aoriana’ also means behind, though. So, this is part of his case for the idea that Malagasy see the future as coming from behind. He contrasts this with talk about the past, which he says proceeds as if the past is closely linked to the present. He notes that the phrase ‘teo alohan’ny maso’ is used to talk about the past but it has the sense that the past is right before one’s eyes. Of course, students of Malagasy know that ‘t’ is used as a tense marker to indicate that the past is being talked about, so the most accurate translation is not there before one’s eyes but there before one’s eyes (in the past). So, it’s not as if the way of talking about the past in Malagasy provides evidence for thinking that the past is somehow contemporaneous with the present. Furthermore, the evidence that comes from the use of ‘aoriana’ doesn’t support the idea that the future comes from behind. Consider a possible etymology. ‘Aoriana’ came to be used to talk about the future because the future being behind something is an apt metaphor to talk about the future; it is natural to think of future time as being metaphorically hidden from observers as if it were behind something, a mountain for example. This seems a more likely explanation of how ‘aoriana’ came to be used to talk about the future than the strange idea that it means that the future comes from behind. There is other evidence presented by Dahl, but I don’t think in the end any of it supports the idea that Malagasy people think of the future as literally coming up from behind them. That would be a radical break from the Western worldview, and one that may be hard to even comprehend fully. 

Welcome Ceremony

The new professors

The new professors

The Department of Anglophone Studies graciously hosted a welcome ceremony for the three new teachers in the department. There are two Fulbright Scholars, myself and Linda Gray, and also Roimemy RALISON. There was very nice food and very pleasant conversation. It was a great chance to meet my colleagues. The department chair, Zoly RAKOTONIERA, gave us each a very generous gift of Robert Chocolate which is very famous here in Madagascar and also very delicious. I took the opportunity to offer a kabary, which is a traditional speech given in Madagascar at weddings and other ceremonies. Kabaries are usually very long speeches that involve many illusions, employ indirect methods of speaking and have many fine phrasings. They typically have many Malagasy proverbs (ohabolana). I tried to keep mine simple, so it was rather short, direct and very light on proverbs and fine phrasing! After greeting those present, I apologized for not being able to speak indirectly in Malagasy (miolakolaka). My speaking in Malagasy has always been very direct. I also apologized for not being proficient in proverbs. Even though I am far from mastering Malagasy, I still wanted to speak to the teachers in their native language in order to show them how passionate I was about Malagasy culture and how I have some prior connection to the way of life here. I think some of them were a bit surprised. I got some compliments on my kabary and was told that there were not too many mistakes. I was very nervous, to be honest, in part because the audience was all university professors. I hope to have a chance to give a kabary again, and I hope to come closer next time to approximating the ideal of a kabary. Incidentally, my research focuses a good deal on Malagasy proverbs, so perhaps next time my kabary will benefit from this research. At the ceremony, I happened to meet a doctoral student and professor, Graziella MASINDRAZANA, who is doing research on Malagasy proverbs and how they express the Malagasy worldview. Proverbs have great currency in Malagasy culture and encode many of the key concepts that structure the Malagasy worldview such as tody (karma), tsiny (blame) and fihavanana (a special kind of kinship). She has an amazing command of the material and is focusing on proverbs that involve paradoxes and antonyms. She explained to me that to elucidate difficult metaphysical or philosophical concepts Malagasy philosophers such as Antoine de Padoue Rahajarizafy often use paradoxical proverbs. This is very intriguing and raises many interesting questions that I plan to think about in more detail.  Why does paradox provides a path to wisdom? How does this method work? Is this method of enlightenment associated with some cultures rather than others? If so, why? Malagasy proverbs in many ways are the main historical corpus of Malagasy philosophy, so they are very important to understand philosophy in Madagascar. I am grateful to have found someone as knowledgeable as Professor MASINDRAZANA and am eager to work with her going forward. All in all, I am very grateful for the warm reception I have received from all members of the University of Antananarivo I have met thus far.