We can represent this state of affairs as shown in Figure 2.1.1, borrowed from the Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (1857\u20131913).<\/p>\n
Fig. 2.1.1. A schematic representation of the word tree<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n This representation is simple (too simple, we will see much later in this book), but it helps us understand the basic properties of a fundamental unit of language that we call the linguistic sign<\/strong>:<\/p>\n Let us look at these properties in a bit more detail.<\/p>\n The meaning of a sign is not, of course, a picture. Since a tree is a fairly concrete type of entity, hearing the word may evoke an image before your inner eye, but that image is not the meaning of the word either. Instead, the meaning of a sign is a concept<\/strong> \u2014 a mental representation of our knowledge of what it means to be a tree. We will talk about meaning in much more detail in Chapter 6, but for now, let us simply describe it in the way dictionaries do. For the word tree<\/em>, this description would be something like \u2018a relatively large plant with a thick wooden stem and lateral branches that start at some distance from the ground and either have green leaf- or needle-shaped growths attached to them for at least part of the year\u2019.<\/p>\n Note that in linguistics, orthographic representations of words (or other units of linguistic structure) are always shown in italics, and descriptions of their meaning are always shown in quotation marks (typically single), as you have just seen.<\/p>\n Likewise, the form of a sign is not a sequence of shapes on a page or a screen, nor is it a sequence of sounds loosely represented by these shapes or, in signed languages, a particular gesture. Instead, it is also<\/em> a mental representation \u2014 in this case, of our knowledge of what the word tree<\/em> sounds like and how we must manipulate our vocal chords and our tongue to produce the necessary speech sounds (we will discuss this aspect in detail in Chapter 3). Speakers who can read will also have a mental representation of the shapes (\u201cletters”) that are used to represent the word tree<\/em> \u2014 for example, different combinations of lines and curves in visual alphabets or configurations of raised dots in tactile alphabets like the Braille system. If they can write, they will also have a concept of how to manipulate their hands and different types of devices (pens, typewriters, computer keyboards) to produce these shapes. Those who use sign language will have a concept of the gestures that signify ‘tree’.<\/p>\n Finally, the association between the mental representation of the meaning and the mental representation of the form is, itself, a mental phenomenon. Put simply, each representation can activate the other: we can see a tree or think of a tree, and this will activate the representation of a particular sequence of sounds (or shapes), which we can then, if we choose to do so, say out loud or write down. Or we can perceive this sequence of sounds (or shapes), and this will activate our representation of what a tree is. Depending on the situation, we may then make a connection between that mental representation and a particular object in the real world (see further Section 2.3).<\/p>\n The association between the form and the meaning of linguistic signs has an interesting property that you may have noticed at times but that we do not usually think about as speakers of a language: it is arbitrary<\/strong>. There is no natural or logical reason that our knowledge of plants with thick wooden stems and lateral branches must be associated with the sounds corresponding to t<\/em>, r<\/em> and ee<\/em> in particular. We can easily see this by looking at the sound sequences that users of other languages associate with the same concept. Some examples are Baum<\/em> (German), arbre<\/em> (French), tr\u00e6<\/em> (Danish), drzewa<\/em> (Polish), a\u011fa\u00e7<\/em> (Turkish), or c\u00e2y<\/em> (Vietnamese).<\/p>\n You may not know how these words are pronounced, and orthography does not necessarily provide a good hint, but you can safely assume that most of these words do not sound alike at all. Speakers of these different languages associate these sound sequences with the concept TREE only because they have observed that other speakers in their language community make this association (using uppercase letters, as I did for TREE, is another way to indicate that we are talking about the meaning of a word, typically used when we want to refer to a complex concept as a whole).<\/p>\n In other words, the association between form and meaning is based on conventions<\/strong> that are specific to particular communities of language users \u2014 it is arbitrary. Now you may object: the English word tree<\/em> and the Danish word tr\u00e6<\/em> look suspiciously similar in writing, and in fact, they also sound similar (the Danish word sounds a bit like the word tray<\/em>, with the r<\/em> pronounced as in German and the vowel pronounced with a very short duration). The reason for this is not, however, that there is any natural association between this sound sequence and large wooden plants, but that the two languages share a common ancestor \u2014 Proto Germanic \u2014, where the form *trewam<\/em> was associated with the concept TREE, and the words in both languages are derived from that original word. German, which shares the same ancestor, derives its word from a different Proto-Germanic word, *baumaz,<\/em> which also meant \u2018tree\u2019, and which is also the source of the English word beam<\/em>. Once a conventional association between a form and a meaning has been made, it can be passed down from generation to generation for thousands of years with slight variations, but that does not change the fact that it is arbitrary \u2014 we could<\/em> call trees something else.<\/p>\n\n
The arbitrariness of linguistic signs<\/h2>\n
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