Newsgroups: sci.lang
From: Kitt@cary.demon.co.uk (Kittredge Cowlishaw)
Path: cantaloupe.srv.cs.cmu.edu!nntp.club.cc.cmu.edu!hudson.lm.com!netline-fddi.jpl.nasa.gov!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!swrinde!pipex!demon!cary.demon.co.uk!Kitt
Subject: Triumph of syntax over pragmatics
Organization: The Old School House
Reply-To: Kitt@cary.demon.co.uk
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Date: Mon, 9 Jan 1995 11:14:53 +0000
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On the LINGUIST list recently, there was a discussion
of the following sentence:

     The child asked the teacher to leave.

Now, some native speakers of English interpreted this to
mean that the child asked the teacher's permission for the
*child* to leave, rather than that the child asked that the
*teacher* leave.

The explanation given was that pragmatic considerations
(here, the assumption that the teacher is in a position of
authority over the child--an assumption that doesn't bear
scrutiny in some schools, but never mind) could override
syntactic rules.

This reminded me of an occasion when I heard a distinguished
physicist announce to a packed lecture hall:

     "I realise, of course, that my theory is
      far from imperfect."

When I heard this, I nearly choked on my popcorn (it was
a Saturday night).  Looking around me, I was amazed to
see that nobody else took exception to this outrageous
claim.  A lonely grad student in the row behind me leaned
forward and asked, hopefully, if I'd like him to perform
the Heimlich manoeuvre on me, but the rest of the audience
maintained a stony silence.

I decided then and there that some people are just more
sensitive to syntax than others.  Or less sensitive to
pragmatics.  And this, I'm afraid, reminds me of a story
of absolutely no scientific interest.

My college roommate and I shared our love of language, but
not our taste in men.  During our second year of college,
Keti briefly dated a guy from Dartmouth to whom I took an
irrational dislike.  He liked to leave the top four buttons
of his shirt undone, and I remember wondering whether he
used gel to achieve that effect of a mass of perfect curls
in his chest hair.

Adonis was around, on and off, mostly on Saturday nights,
but occasionally during the day as well.  The campus being
small, and Keti and I being roommates, the three of us were
thrown together from time to time, and one Saturday afternoon
we found ourselves walking together across the common,
watching the dogs playing on the lawn.

I should mention that this minor deity was not such great
company in the daylight hours, the convolutions of his cortex
being significantly less complex than those on his thorax,
but Keti didn't seem to mind.  I, on the other hand, was by
this time as desperate to get rid of him as he to get rid of
me, so the three of us walked along that day in a less than
companionable mood.

Anyway, fate stepped in in the form of a huge, ungainly
Great Dane who lurched across the grass in front of us.
It turned out that Adonis had a special fondness for dogs,
and the sight of this animal had him in ecstasies.

"Just look at that," he cried, "it's as graceful as a
gazelle!"  He followed its gallumphing gait with his eyes
and added, "*Not a single unwasted motion!*"

This was too much for me.  I let out a whoop of derision,
and tried to catch Keti's eye, but she was determinedly
refusing to take sides.

I couldn't let it go.  "Come on, Keti," I said, "run to that
tree over there without a single unwasted motion."

It was a close thing, but syntax triumphed over pragmatics
that day.  Keti caved in and dashed in the opposite direction
from the tree (which surprised Adonis but not me) with an
impressive display of flailing limbs, after which she and I
collapsed in hysterics on the grass.

Adonis eventually figured out that he was being treated with
disrespect, and stopped coming around after that.  We never
mentioned him again, but every time we saw the Great Dane on
the common, we'd point to it and say, "Look, there's the
gazelle!" and crack up.

--Kitt
