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SPELL Swiss Papers in English Language and Literature

33

Economies of English

Edited by Martin Leer and Genoveva Puskás

SPELL GROUP

2016

ENGLISH LANGUAGE 1500 now
ENGLISH LANGUAGE
1500
now

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-50

ECOC

+64

NWCR

-12

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+10

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+82

PSCO

+9

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-15

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-32

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CHVLRYDICKNSJOYCEMRCHNTRRGGLSSASSRESHARPSHSPRE

SPELL Swiss Papers in English Language and Literature 33 Economies of English Edited by Martin Leer

Economies of English

Edited by Martin Leer and Genoveva Puskás

SPELL

Swiss Papers in English Language and Literature

Edited by The Swiss Association of University Teachers of English (SAUTE)

General Editor: Lukas Erne

Volume 33

Economies of English

Edited by Martin Leer and Genoveva Puskás

Economies of English Edited by Martin Leer and Genoveva Puskás

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Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.dnb.de abrufbar.

Publiziert mit Unterstützung der Schweizerischen Akademie der Geistes- und Sozial- wissenschaften.

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ISSN 0940-0478 ISBN 978-3-8233-8067-2

Table of Contents

Introduction

11

John E. Joseph (Edinburgh) The Cerebral Closet: Language as valeur and trésor in Saussure

39

Claire-A. Forel (Geneva) Value of and in Learning Foreign Languages

63

Eva Waltermann (Geneva) and Virág Csillagh (Geneva) Teaching and Learning English in Geneva: Questions of Economy, Identity, Globality and Usefulness

75

Sarah Chevalier (Zurich) The Value of English in Multilingual Families

97

Richard Waswo (Geneva) Shakespeare and the Modern Economy

117

Indira Ghose (Fribourg) Money, Morals, and Manners in Renaissance Courtesy Literature

129

Rahel Orgis (Neuchâtel) “Father and son, I ha’ done you simple service here”:

The (Interrupted) Circulation of Money in Middleton and Dekker’s The Roaring Girl

143

Barbara Straumann (Zurich) “How to Live Well on Nothing a Year”: Money, Credit and Debt in William Makepeace Thackeray’s Vanity Fair

163

Sangam MacDuff (Geneva) “Scrupulous Meanness,” Joyce’s Gift and the Symbolic Economy of Dubliners

181

Martin Mühlheim (Zurich) Slippery Subjects: Intersecting Economies of Genre in Gay Male Coming-Out Films, 1995-2015

199

Oran McKenzie (Geneva) Spillage and Banditry: Anne Carson’s Derivatives

225

Notes on Contributors

243

Index of Names

249

Acknowledgements

The essays of this volume form a selection of the contributions to the Swiss Association of University Teachers of English (SAUTE) 2015 Conference, held in Geneva on 24-25 April 2015. We wish to thank those who devoted so much of their time and energy to helping in the organization of this conference, Erzsi Kukorelly and Arnaud Barras. We are grateful to the Swiss Academy of Humanities and Social Sciences, the CUSO doctoral programs, the Faculty of Humanities and the Eng- lish Department of the University of Geneva for their financial support, which made the organization of the conference possible. The variety and quality of the essays included in the present volume owe, in addi- tion to their authors’ expertise, also to the diligent and efficient work of anonymous peer reviewers, to whom we wish to address, without being able to name them individually, our warmest thanks. Many thanks also to Lukas Erne, General Editor, for his patient guidance and valuable advice in the preparation of the volume. We are grateful to Arnaud Bar- ras for providing the cover picture and to Martin Heusser for designing the cover. Finally, we address our warmest thanks to Keith Hewlett for his help in the editing process, his minute and detailed comments and suggestions and, above all, his never failing patience.

General Editor’s Preface

SPELL (Swiss Papers in English Language and Literature) is a publica- tion of SAUTE, the Swiss Association of University Teachers of Eng- lish. Established in 1984, it first appeared every second year, was pub- lished annually from 1994 to 2008, and now appears three times every two years. Every second year, SPELL publishes a selection of papers given at the biennial symposia organized by SAUTE. Non-symposium volumes usually have as their starting point papers given at other con- ferences organized by members of SAUTE, in particular conferences of SANAS, the Swiss Association for North American Studies and SAMEMES, the Swiss Association of Medieval and Early Modern Eng- lish Studies. However, other proposals are also welcome. Decisions concerning topics and editors are made by the Annual General Meeting of SAUTE two years before the year of publication. Volumes of SPELL contain carefully selected and edited papers de- voted to a topic of literary, linguistic and – broadly – cultural interest. All contributions are original and are subjected to external evaluation by means of a full peer review process. Contributions are usually by participants at the conferences mentioned, but volume editors are free to solicit further contributions. Papers published in SPELL are docu- mented in the MLA International Bibliography. SPELL is published with the financial support of the Swiss Academy of Humanities and Social Sciences. Information on all aspects of SPELL, including volumes planned for the future, is available from the General Editor, Professor Lukas Erne, Département de langue et littérature anglaises, Faculté des Let- tres, Université de Genève, CH -1211 Genève 4, Switzerland, e-mail:

lukas.erne@unige.ch. Information about past volumes of SPELL and about SAUTE, in particular about how to become a member of the association, can be obtained from the SAUTE website at http://www.saute.ch.

Lukas Erne

Introduction

At the beginning of her book Economy of the Unlost the Canadian poet Anne Carson wonders:

Humans value economy. Why? Whether we are commending a mathemati- cian for her proof or a draughtsman for his use of line or a poet for furnish- ing us with nuggets of beauty and truth, economy is a trope of intellectual, aesthetic and moral value. How do we come to take comfort in this notion? It is arguable that the trope does not predate the invention of coinage. And certainly in a civilization as unconditionally committed to greed as ours is – no one questions any more the wisdom of saving money. But money is just a mediator for our greed. What does it mean to save time, or trouble, or

face, or breath, or shoe leather? Or words?

What exactly is lost to us

. . . when words are wasted? And where is the human store to which such

goods are gathered? (Carson 3)

The organizers of the SAUTE biennial conference at the University of Geneva in 2015 were motivated by a similar, if not even broader and more topical sense of wonder when we chose the theme “Economies of English.” In the Call For Papers we took our point of departure in re- cent events:

As the world still reels from the financial crisis of 2007-8, it seems timely to reflect on the connections between money and value embedded in all our discourses about economy, language and literature. Marxists and neo- liberals have classically theorized this as reflecting the mechanisms of capi- talism and the market. More recently, however, the literary theorist Marc Shell has seen the invention of coinage as underlying the whole of Western philosophy, while the anthropologist David Graeber has proposed that all the great religions and political ideologies are responses to the moral confusion of money. These are concerns that go to the heart of English studies, both because English is the global language of money, and because the discipline

Economies of English. SPELL: Swiss Papers in English Language and Literature 33. Ed. Martin Leer and Genoveva Puskás. Tübingen: Narr, 2016. 11-37.

12

Introduction

and its language rest on a goldmine of unexamined economic metaphors:

from literary debts to loanwords, from redemption to counterfeit and queer, from currency to exchange, from the economy of syntax to the economy of poetic expression.

As time goes on, after Brexit and other related shocks, the historical situation does appear apocalyptic in its original Greek sense of revelatory. The events that unfolded from the run on Northern Rock in October 2007 and the bankruptcy of Lehmann Brothers in September 2008 still seem, almost a decade later, to have been different from an ordinary “financial crisis” – even if as the conservative economists Carmen Reinhardt and Kenneth Rogoff pointed out in 2009, people at every financial crisis exclaim “This time is different!” The most centrally placed observer, Ben Bernanke, President of the US Federal Reserve at the time, has consistently argued that the potential consequences of “the Credit Crunch” (which seems to have become the most generally ac- cepted term for the event) were far worse than the Wall Street Crash of 1929. Instead of a stock market collapse, there was a real possibility of a shutdown of the world monetary system, because the banks no longer trusted each other enough to lend to one another. Within days after Lehmann Brothers, according to many observers, all the major banks would have collapsed. And even before that ATMs would have run out of money. The “subprime mortgage” crisis in the US revealed the fragil- ity, and insanity, of a period of economic history that had previously been dubbed “the Great Moderation.” A debate began which not only involved economists, bankers and politicians. In fact, these groups were reluctant participants. When Queen Elizabeth II visited the London School of Economics in the immediate aftermath and asked the hundreds of economics professors assembled, “Why did no one see this coming?” few clear answers were forthcoming (Martin). In fact there had been warning voices: Robert Shiller as one of the few major economists with an expertise in real es- tate, or the economic commentator Nouriel Roubini, who earned him- self the nickname “Doctor Doom.” Yet “subprime mortgage securitiza- tion,” “Too Big to Fail Banks,” the explosion of “shadow banking” (the unregulated activities of hedge-funds and, even more frequently, the major banks themselves) have somehow seemed too feeble explanations for the sheer scale of what had been revealed about the whole economic system and its social and political aftershocks, particularly in the Euro- zone. Many economists have admitted to deep uncertainty, including the second most centrally placed observer, Sir Mervyn King, then Governor of the Bank of England, in his recent book The End of Alchemy: Money,

Introduction

13

Banking and the Future of the Global Economy (2016), where he calls for a complete overhaul not only of banking regulations, but of mainstream economic analysis. But King’s actual proposals seem curiously tame and even self-defeating, as Paul Krugman points out in his review in The New York Review of Books. This is a long-established pattern. The maverick economist Paul Ormerod declared The Death of Economics in a book from 1995, arguing that the notorious failure of economic predictions about the future (per- forming at least 7 times worse than the toss of a coin) was an indication not just of uncertainty, but statistical proof that something in standard economic theory was basically wrong – yet at the end of the book he proposed greater attention to business profits as a major part of the so- lution: hardly a radical idea! Even Paul Krugman, sometimes described as “the world’s leading economist,” has seemed conceptually, if not lin- guistically, challenged in his commentary on events in the New York Times: his accounts of the wars between “saltwater” and “freshwater” economists (essentially the Neo-Keynesians in the great universities on the American coasts vs. the Chicago School) or his many coinages from “the confidence fairy” (the idea that “business confidence” is all that matters in “the Economy”) to “zombie” and “cockroach ideas” (the misconceptions in economics that keep coming back, no matter how often you kill them or flush them down the toilet) have been illuminat- ing as well as amusing. However, one does not have to disagree with Krugman’s assertion that standard, textbook Keynesian macroeconom- ics have performed surprisingly well in this “Lesser Depression” with interest rates at the zero lower bound (even moving into negative) to be slightly puzzled by his insistence that the IS/LM model 1 is some kind of final truth about economics. Perhaps this is just Krugman’s pugnacious defence of the whole intellectual framework of Post-War economics and the status of economists as the sages of our political system against what Krugman may be right to consider cranks and madmen with disastrous- ly simple ideas about “the Economy.” Nevertheless it is curiously blind to the questioning of the basis of economics, which has been gathering in strength.

1 A mathematical representation, developed in 1936 by John Hicks and Alvin Hansen, of John Maynard Keynes’ General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money, where an IS (interest rate/savings) curve crosses an LM (loans/ money supply) curve to define an equilibrium. In Krugman’s defence, he is extolling the IS/LM model largely as an alterna- tive to the Chicago School’s DSGE (dynamic stochastic general equilibrium) model, which purports to be the economy as the sum of “micro-foundations,” while IS/LM at least only purports to be a loose approximation.

14

Introduction

Again this is a repeated pattern. The Great Depression produced three main lines of intellectual response: Keynes’ General Theory of Em- ployment, Interest and Money, which underlay economic policy in the West- ern world from the 1930s to the end of the 1970s and saw a limited re- vival with the economic stimulus of 2009; Friedrich von Hayek’s The Road to Serfdom, which excoriated the tax-based welfare state and became the foundation of the Thatcher-Reagan revolution, which from the 1980s tried to reinvent society as a self-regulating market; and Karl Po- lanyi’s The Great Transformation, which denied the foundational status of economics that Keynes and Hayek assumed, though much less dogmati- cally than their followers, and instead saw economics as the political ideology of industrialism, invented in the eighteenth century and imple- mented (by different political factions) with disastrous consequences ever since. Polanyi had some influence over the idea of the post-War welfare state and the removal of some aspects of society (health, educa- tion) outside the reach of “market forces,” but he became the pet hate of economists and increasingly ignored by all sides of politics. The more radical thinking after 2008 has come from outside of the economics profession, or by people looking outside it or beyond its usual models. The Czech economist Tomas Sedlacek in The Economics of Good and Evil has argued that economics never really escaped its origins in moral philosophy. This is especially noticeable in the case of Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations (1776), which really invented the whole modern discourse of economics, but was written as a long footnote to his Theory of Moral Sentiments. Paul Ormerod in his later work, like Why Things Fail, or Nassim Nicholas Taleb in The Black Swan and Fooled by Randomness have argued that economics should rely on the mathematics of chaos, nonlinear feedbacks and improbability rather than stochastic equilibrium and Gaussian normal distribution (which did contribute in a major way to the subprime mortgage collapse). The Finnish-Danish econ- onometrist Katarina Juselius describes herself as an “empirical econo- mist,” dispenses with models and looks hard at the statistics for major patterns of change and claims to have found two in her career: the in- creasing financialization of the economy after the 1980s and more re- cently, what looks like ecological limits to economic growth. More important, for our purposes here, are scholars in the humani- ties (history, anthropology and linguistics) and imaginative literature, often at the borderlines between fiction and non-fiction. So much fic- tion has appeared about the crisis of 2008 that Katy Shaw has suggested the birth of a new genre in her book Crunch Lit (2015), where she relates works by John Lanchester, Jonathan Frantzen, Don DeLillo and others

Introduction

15

to the great nineteenth century representations of the world of finance like Dickens, Zola, Conrad and Trollope. The recent bestseller in eco- nomics, Thomas Piketty’s Capital in the Twenty-first Century (2013) no doubt owes as much of its popularity to how Piketty uses nineteenth century French literature to describe the social effects of economic ine- quality as to his path-breaking use of historical statistics. These statistics show how after 1980, and with increasing strength after 2010, economic inequality, if you take into account the very richest 0.1 or 0.01 percent of the distribution (who are notoriously difficult to account for), has reached levels last seen during la Belle Epoque in France or Gilded Age America – and exceeding the economic inequality of the Ancien Régime, before industrialization.

***

Literature seems to have stepped into the breach or vacuum which John Lanchester noted in an article called “Cityphobia” in the London Review of Books at the height of the panic in October 2008:

The models and alternatives don’t seem to be forthcoming

there is an

. . . ideological and theoretical vacuum where the challenge from the left used to be. Capitalism no longer has a global antagonist, just at the moment when it has never needed one more if only to clarify thinking and values, and to provide the chorus of jeering and Schadenfreude which at the mo- ment is deeply appropriate. (Lanchester, “Cityphobia”)

The world had turned upside down: “Wall Street turned socialist,” Le Monde Diplomatique proclaimed on its October 2008 front page. Finance had turned into a business where gains were privatized, but losses social- ized. But politically it was still the age of TINA, the Mother Goddess acronym for “There is no alternative,” a phrase some have claimed, per- haps in a further attempt at myth-making, had first been popularized by Margaret Thatcher. The traditional anti-capitalist Left seemingly con- firmed that it had disappeared “under the sea, like Atlantis” (as Svetlana Alexeievitch has said of the Soviet system), around two election cycles after the fall of the Berlin Wall – when the Italian Communist Party turned into Democrats and British Labour into New Labour. This is indeed one of the most under-explained phenomena of recent political history, its most important tectonic plate-shift alongside the gradual, but inexorable drift rightwards of the bulk of the old centre-right parties after the Thatcher-Reagan revolution. Rumours of the revival of this

16

Introduction

Left, with Syriza in Greece, Jeremy Corbyn in Britain or Bernie Sanders in the US, seem somewhat exaggerated when their proposed economic policies are taken into account, which amount to little more than a re- turn to old-fashioned centrist social democratic Keynesianism. New economic thinking (whether “Modern monetary theory” or Green “sta- ble state” or “décroissance” economics”) has had very little traction, per- haps so thoroughly suppressed by standard economic dogmas that the field is left open to the even more dangerous interventions of literature and humanities scholars. Interestingly, Paul Krugman has been very perspicacious about the literary foundations of economic thinking in the case of his opponents, accus- ing the German government and especially Finance Minister Wolfgang Schäuble of seeing economics as “a morality tale” or the Republican Speaker of the House of Representatives Paul Ryan of getting his eco- nomic theory from Ayn Rand’s novel Atlas Shrugged. But Krugman has also himself admitted to becoming an economist because economists most closely resembled the all-knowing “psychohistorians” of Isaac Asimov’s Foundations trilogy. What has gone on is perhaps most conveniently explained by a very short chapter in the Canadian novelist and political essayist John Ral- ston Saul’s The End of Globalism (2005) entitled “A Short History of Economics Becoming a Religion.” The role of Keynesian and neo- classical economists in the reconstruction and growth of the Western World in the decades after the Second World War seemed little short of miraculous – and that faith was transferred to economists of the mone- tarist and neoliberal-globalist schools in the subsequent generation (after 1980). Every aspect of society, culture and nature seemed to have a sim- ple economic explanation, whether one asked vulgar Marxists or the authors of the Freakonomics books. And this was not just a fringe phe- nomenon: “New public management” attempted to create market effi- ciency in the public sector, only to end up with more hierarchical bu- reaucracy desperately trying to restructure the system to define the levels at which a fictional market “accountability” could set in – and equally desperate attempts among the groups affected to “game the system.” But by the beginning of the twenty-first century that faith was wearing thin, to collapse almost completely after 2008. A fierce debate broke out, in moral philosophy as exemplified by Michael Sandel’s What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets (2012) – and in higher education and the role of the humanities, as exemplified by Martha Nussbaum’s Not For Profit: Why Democracy Needs the Humanities (2010) or Stefan Col- lini’s What Are Universities For? (2012). Though they come from a long

Introduction

17

tradition going back at least to the nineteenth century, these defences of the humanities seem to demonstrate a new level of desperation, but perhaps also paradoxically, of hope. It seems to have become largely impossible to defend the existence of the humanities within the ruling discourse of economics, but the humanities continue to exist – and may even have a future, if the faith in economic discourse wanes. Faith, belief and trust are central to economics, especially perhaps af- ter the advent of modern European capitalism in the fifteenth and six- teenth centuries: it is what Richard Waswo in his contribution to this book calls “the fiduciary principle.” This is particularly evident with what is known as fiat money: “paper money” which the state (or central bank) guarantees to have a certain value. An English 10 pound note still bears the inscription “I promise to pay the bearer on demand the sum of Ten pounds,” signed by an official of the Bank of England (Scottish money is even closer to a simple IOU, as it is issued by private banks). This form of money is literally a speech act before it is anything else, espe- cially as it is not specified what material substance (hardly “sterling” sil- ver except in etymology) those ten pounds measure, as if to say “a litre litre.” This is where the temptation of gold and silver standards come in, but it appears from history that even gold and silver coinage were never exactly (and often far from) the value of the metal on which they were stamped. Money is a measure of some shared (partly metaphysical) value, which involves faith, belief and trust, but also their opposites ly- ing, mistrust and negotiation, though only in so far as they do not un- dermine the system. Waswo in his essay argues that it is a sign of Shake- speare’s greatness how clearly he saw the human implications of this new economy in plays from The Merchant of Venice to Troilus and Cressida, long before economists theorized it. A total systemic failure came close in 2008, partly because of the growth of derivatives markets after they were deregulated in the late 1990s. The proportions of financial markets to the “real economy” had turned on their head since the foundations of modern economics were theorized around 1800. At that time it is conventionally estimated that the “real economy” of the transaction of goods and services accounted for 95 percent of “the Economy,” and financial transactions for 5 per- cent. By the late 1990s these figures were reversed, and by 2007 it was more like 1 or 2 to 99 percent. The November 2008 issue of Le Monde diplomatique estimated World Gross Domestic Product (GDP), or “the real economy,” on an average day in 2007 at some 160 billion dollars, while the financial economy (stock exchanges, money and derivatives markets) on this average day was valued in excess of 5,500 billion dol-

18

Introduction

lars. It is hard for the uninitiated not to see this as a huge fictional bub- ble on a very small clay foot. Or not to think of the initiated as quite deranged when one popular derivative invented around that time was known as “end-of-the-world insurance,” as if money would survive the end of the world. At the time I wrote:

For the literary critic observing the financial crisis of 2007-8, everything seems to turn on Coleridge’s famous formula: “The willing suspension of disbelief.” We have been engrossed in a fiction, a seemingly endless serial, which is now moving inexorably towards its dénouement. The media still treat it as a cliff-hanger: will it be recession or depression? The story will reveal its genre at last: comedy or tragedy, Götterdämmerung or history repeated as farce? Personally I am inclined towards Twilight of the Gods, though I can see the farcical aspects. The alternatives are not recession or depression, but depression or meltdown, of which the present “chaotic unwinding,” in Ben Bernanke’s phrase, is just the beginning. This is not the end of capitalism in any meaningful Marxian sense, but its Chernobyl. It is not in order to exag- gerate that commentators are reaching for metaphor, but in order to recon- nect with “reality.” This “reality” had been conceded to economics and hedge-fund managers in an increasingly fictional “creative accountancy,” where losses was registered as gains twice (as assets and future tax deduc- tions). But now perhaps there is a brief chance for language to catch up, if only to express disbelief. (Leer 16)

Almost ten years later, little has changed. Any economic debate about basic principles has been stifled, even one so mild as my suggestion of replacing a (religious) belief in money markets with a more enlightened (literary) suspension of disbelief. Financial reform has barely happened, except very lightly in the US – and with a few international restrictions on “leverage”: the proportion of equity to lending. The main policy in- tervention has been the pumping of credit into the system through quan- titative easing, with debatable results. Instead a picture seems to be emerging of a basic loss of faith in the liberal representative political system that was installed in the West after the Second World War and seemed set for universal expansion in the 1990s after the fall of the great Socialist adversary. This has been exem- plified in various ways: by the EU treatment of the Greeks with its total disregard for elections and economic reality; the gathering collapse of a system of universal human rights extending to refugees; Brexit, Donald Trump; the increasing power of nationalist movements with strong anti- minority visions of “democracy.” These phenomena are usually ex- plained as the effects of growing economic inequality, the divide be-

Introduction

19

tween “winners” and “losers” in “globalization” and a resulting xeno- phobia and racism; but it is in fact a much deeper loss of trust in the Post-War industrial social contract between workers, owners of capital and the professional middle classes. It is a crisis in representation: both in the political, the mediated and the linguistic sense. So of course were artistic modernism, postmodernism and postcolonialism. This is a fur- ther crunch, which may reveal the basis of the others. The breach that emerged in 2007-8 was more radical than any of us thought at the time. Firstly it was not just a financial or an economic cri- sis, but a crisis of the whole monetary system, as the classicist turned banker Felix Martin points out in his Money: The Unauthorised Biography (2013): it raises the fundamental philosophical question of what money is, even beyond the classic tripartite definition of money as store of value, measure of value and means of exchange. These are often in conflict: the Gold Standard or any other system based on extreme “scarcity value” and thus a stable store of value often means that there is not enough money to go around to serve as a means of exchange; and if money is the only value (which often seems to be the case in the contemporary world), how does it measure itself? Can value, a monetary metaphor if ever there was one, even be separated from a monetary rationale? As such the “money crisis” has strong repercussions for our whole philosophical and moral system of representation and judgment, as the anthropologist David Graeber points out in his Debt: The First 5000 Years (2011), basing himself to a considerable extent on the work of the literary theorist Marc Shell and the scholar of classical Greek literature Richard Seaford. Something has hit so deeply in our conceptual and linguistic way of making sense of the world that no authorized oppositional political dis- course (Marxism being the obvious example) seems to strike the right note. Though a Marxist might quite accurately say “I told you so!” about “Capitalism,” it is too generalized and evasive. Basically Marxist and so- called neoliberal assumptions about the world are too similar: “the Economy” is the bedrock of reality. Even economically literate discur- sive prose by excellent writers, like John Lanchester’s brilliantly titled Whoops! Why Everyone Owes Everyone and No One Can Pay (2010), put too much effort into explaining the Crunch moment by (often comic) anal- ogy to other spheres. To compare the 1973 publication of the Black and Scholes paper on “The Pricing of Options and Corporate Liabilities,” which underlies modern derivatives, to Charlie Parker’s saxophone break in a “A Night in Tunisia,” strikes the wrong note, not just emo- tionally, as blasphemy for the jazz-lover; for if Parker’s solo is “the arri- val of modernism, right here, in real time” (Lanchester, Whoops! 33), the

20

Introduction

Black-Scholes equations are surely the arrival of postmodernism. Keynes is a much better equivalent of “economic modernism,” though he might have baulked at economics being an art form – and Keynes was a much better speculative investor than the Black-Scholes equa- tions, which as Lanchester gleefully goes on to show led to the very fast implosion in 1998 of the Long Term Capital Investment hedge fund based on the Black-Scholes ideas about “rational investments in an irra- tional world” (Lanchester, Whoops! 41). Lanchester’s account is an unset- tling comedy, with an understated tragic background. Postmodernism is too much the cultural arm of financialization (think of Jeff Koons or Damien Hirst’s Golden Calf) to be any help in unmasking or criticizing it. Where literature succeeds, it is not in parodic anti-representationalism, but in sometimes much more conventional representational schemes where farce is parodied as – or suddenly gives way to – tragedy: in Kate Jennings’ Moral Hazard (2002) or Michael Lewis’ The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine (2009). Jennings’ novel tells the story of a writer, who in order to pay for her Alzheimer-struck husband’s treatment and care, takes a job as a speechwriter at an in- vestment bank. The language she learns to use comes over as almost a parody of Orwellian “doublespeak” in its transparent, self-serving, ab- surd predictability. But its basic assumptions so penetrate her own thinking that she begins to think of her husband in economic terms and in the end accedes to a kind of “mercy killing” because there is not enough return on her investment and her work at the bank is a living lie. At the same time the whole insane speculative circus at the bank im- plodes with impunity for everyone responsible because of a merger with another bank. In fact there turns out to be no responsibility behind the respectable conservative façade, while the narrator has to carry forever the responsibility of what she has done. “Moral hazard” has spread be- yond its origins as an insurance term, where it refers to a situation in which a party to a contract can take extra risks because someone else bears the costs. Moral hazard has become the basic mode of functioning of society. The Big Short tells the story of a group of very eccentric investors, who are the first to understand the subprime mortgage bubble and who, against the groupthink of the financial world, “short” or bet against these so-called “securitized investment vehicles,” which one of them dubs instead “the doomsday machine.” They make a lot of money when the market crashes, only to find that their opponents, who upheld the doomsday machine, have made almost as much. The morality of the market (the separation of winners and losers), in which they believed, is

Introduction

21

not working. The system is rigged. This may come as no surprise to the reader, or to Michael Lewis, who became a best-selling author with the book Liar’s Poker (1989), a comic denunciation of his own career in Wall Street trading in the 1980s, straight out of university with an MA in Art History. In his preface to The Big Short, Lewis explains how after two decades, where a mad world he thought was doomed to extinction went from scandal to scandal, from hundreds-of-millions to billion-dollar losses caused by individual traders, he had basically given up writing with outrage about the corruption of Wall Street, until an obscure finan- cial analyst called Meredith Whitney in 2007 predicted the near-collapse of Citibank and turned it into a general accusation: “This woman wasn’t saying that Wall Street bankers were corrupt. She was saying that they were stupid” (Lewis, The Big Short xvii). She led Lewis to her mentor Steve Eisman and eventually the other strange heroes of his book. The genius of The Big Short lies in its combination of an engaging humanist characterization of a (real, not fictional) cast of misfits with a detective story plot that almost manages to explain to a lay readership the enigma, the fantastic fictions, at the heart of 21st century finance. But the moral resolution of the detective story remains elusive, the perpetrators un- punished, barely even unmasked. Lewis explains the unease that remains in the Afterword as the effect of an essentially comic writer having in- advertently written a tragedy. The heart of it is what David Graeber terms “the moral confusion” of money, by which he means something more humane than what James Buchan, Financial Times journalist turned novelist, termed “the strangeness of money” in his study of the psychology of money Frozen Desire (1997). Buchan claims that the best index of the greatness of modern artists – whether Dostoevsky, Balzac, Dickens or Rembrandt – is their portrayal of the human relationship to money, which Buchan sees as the second-most important human invention, only exceeded by language, for instance in Rembrandt’s portrait of Judas:

What Rembrandt has understood, and portrayed as nobody before or since, is the strangeness of money: that it breaks the chain of desire and ef- fect. Money provokes people to act, for the sake of payment, in a fashion that, if they knew how the action would turn out, they would not contem- plate. Rembrandt seizes the moment when the veil of money is torn asun- der and wish and consequence come explosively together: Judas realizes that he has assassinated the Son of Man. (Buchan 48)

Where Buchan sees the basis of the psychology of money in the storing of value (“frozen desire”), Graeber traces the origin of money to debt. It

22

Introduction

is impossible debt payments, rather than pecuniary greed which, in Graeber’s history, has led to some of the most flagrant moral excesses:

slavery, extreme patriarchy, anti-Semitism, the pillage of the New World by highly indebted conquistadors, or even the present crisis, which may have exploded in subprime mortgages in the US in 2008, and the sover- eign debt crisis of Greece, but which connects with a longer history. Like many other commentators, Graeber traces the present debt crisis back through the Asian debt crisis of the 1990s to the Third World debt crises of the 1980s (still unresolved) to the point in 1971 when President Nixon abandoned the post-War Bretton Woods system of semi-fixed exchange rates by uncoupling the dollar from gold. Graeber is most forceful and convincing, however, in puncturing the economists’ myth of barter as the origin of economy and society; this is a myth which seems to originate with Adam Smith, but is repeated ad nau- seam in every economics textbook. Graeber has much fun as a literary critic of the stories economists imagine about “primitive peoples”, “amalgams of North American Indians and central Asian pastoral no- mads” or “imaginary New England or Midwestern towns” (Graeber 25, 23), who live in societies and economies like the present, but without money. They have to barter potatoes for shoes and find it very incon- venient. Smith argued famously that economic life, and even social life,

originated in a “certain propensity in human nature

. . .

the propensity to

truck, barter and exchange one thing for another,” which animals do not have. Graeber adds that in this scheme, central to the ideology of eco- nomic liberalism, “Even logic and conversation are really just forms of trading, and as in all things, humans will always seek their own best ad- vantage, to seek the greatest profit they can from the exchange” (Grae- ber 25). A story emerges, which comes to be seen as the history of money and the economy, by which barter and the division of labour give way to the facilitation of trade by means of metal ingots and then coinage, guaranteed by the state, and then ever more sophisticated credit and debit systems.

The story

. . .

has become the founding myth of our system of eco-

nomic relations. It is so deeply established in common sense

. . .

that most

people on earth couldn’t imagine any other way that money could possibly have come about. The problem is there’s no evidence that it ever happened, and an enor- mous amount of evidence suggesting that it did not. (Graeber 28)

Anthropology and ethnography since Smith’s time have not been able to find a single society that relied on barter for its economic life, and the

Introduction

23

evidence of anthropology, archaeology and the study of ancient civiliza- tions, especially the Sumerians, point to the reverse development of what economics teaches. The liberal Felix Martin (Martin 10) agrees with the anarchist Graeber: first came complex arrangements of credit and debt (including systems of derivatives in Sumeria 3000-2000 BC as complex as anything in the City of London or on Wall Street in the years after 2000 AD), then the introduction of coinage in the seventh century BC, and then, in situations where coined money is somehow absent or insufficient, barter. This is enough to question many underlying assumptions not only in economics and politics, but in humanistic scholarship, linguistics and literature, though linguists and literary scholars have the advantage that our discipline is precisely to question the language we use. Martin and Graeber, however, go further, in sometimes diametrically opposite ways. Martin sees a story of credit and writes a largely progressive history, with a few setbacks, of how credit has been measured and meted out, begin- ning with the magnificent huge “stone money” of the remote Pacific Island of Yap, which was admired by both Keynes and his great mone- tarist opponent Milton Friedman, because “by its indifference to its physical currency it acknowledged so transparently that money is not a commodity, but a system of credit and clearing” (Martin 13). The heroes of Martin’s book are the ancient Greeks for inventing a homogenous, individual and equalizing system of “economic value”; the great villain is the philosopher John Locke for trying to fix that value to a commodity, gold. The way out of the mess of 2008 is to imagine a new system of regulation and value, where to Martin “the boldest measures are the saf- est.” Graeber writes a history of debt, setting out not only to undermine the liberal economic vision of society as endless competitive exchange (from barter to communication), but also the conservative nationalist and social democratic welfare state notion of the “eternal debt” owed by the individual to “society.” Graeber sees the last 5,000 years of history as dominated by two cycles: the “coinage-military-slavery complex” which imposes the rule of money as an easily measurable and portable means of exchange (such as marauding armies need: Alexander’s and Rome’s armies were the first organizations to expend enormous amounts of coined silver) – and the more metaphysical periods where money is part of a cosmic and socially rooted system of debt and credit. The latter dominates what Graeber calls the “human economies” before coinage and the state, where “money” in whatever form (Yap mill- stones, seashells, cattle) functions not as means of exchange for com-

24

Introduction

modities, but for establishing connections between strangers (gifts) and other social exchanges that cannot be measured: whether bride wealth or blood money (the payments for marriage and the unlawful taking of human life). Debt and credit also dominate the early period of state civi- lization in Mesopotamia, where cuneiform writing seems largely to have been invented for the purposes of accountancy (literature might be seen as a mere spin-off, an accountancy of life, death and morality in The Epic of Gilgamesh and its followers). From Sumeria to Old Testament Israel the Middle East saw recurrent debt crises and the institution of debt relief to prevent social breakdown. Debt and credit return in “the Mid- dle Ages,” which Graeber does not see as a barbarian relapse into barter in Western Europe, but as a general Eurasian stabilization after the dis- ruption of coinage and imperial expansionism in the ancient world, a stabilization which even creates more equitable versions of a market economy with or without state intervention in Buddhist China and the Islamic world, both of them less hostile to money than Confucianism or Christianity. These systems (which invented paper money, the check and other modern fiduciary tools) were stable at least as compared to the European capitalist empires, which developed out of the resurgence of coinage after the pillage of the gold and silver of the Americas, and which revived not just coinage, but global scale military expansion and chattel slavery. Finally a debt and credit system appears to be returning after Nixon abandoned gold in 1971, largely to pay for the debts accu- mulated by the Vietnam War. We are in a period of system change ac- cording to Graeber as well as Martin: we just have not created a new system yet, or become comfortable without “real money.” I have given such a detailed account of Martin and especially Grae- ber, because they seem to me to show a way for the humanities (and maybe humanity) out of our sense of having dwindled into uneconomic insignificance. In fact, significance, economy and value are inherently humanistic concerns, and redefining them may give new impetus to lin- guistics and literary studies. This may also pose a challenge to the foun- dations of our disciplines more profound than those of structuralism, phenomenology, Marxism, feminism, logical positivism or deconstruc- tion in the twentieth century. When both Martin and Graeber see the introduction of coinage in the Greek kingdom of Lydia in the seventh century BC (hardly a great technological advance) as perhaps the most crucial event in world history, it has to do with its effect on the repre- sentation of “reality.” Martin sees the notion of economic value as the foundation of de- mocracy: a universal measure of physical reality combines with a nego-

Introduction

25

tiable control over money (and thus social power) to allow for a flexible social order, whereas the aristocratic rejection of money with which Western literature begins in The Iliad is the last death-cramp of a dying rigid hierarchical order. Graeber on the other hand leads us back to the apparently outlandish idea of Marc Shell in The Economy of Literature (1978) that the introduction of coinage was the shock that led to the whole development of Western philosophy as a counter-measure, fur- ther developed by Richard Seaford in Money and the Early Greek Mind (2004) where this shock is extended beyond philosophy to both Homer and Greek tragedy. Shell begins his essay “The Ring of Gyges” with the observation that for the ancient Greeks the Lydians were not only the inventors of coin- age, but of tyranny:

Many men pretend to dislike money and tyranny. Golden tyranny, though, may be the correspondent or foundation of much that we pretend to love. The myth of Gyges helps to reveal the origin of modern thought and to call that thought into question. (Shell 13)

In the version of the myth found in Herodotus’ Histories Gyges is the King of Lydia’s advisor, who is lured by the king to see the queen na- ked, an act of such shame and illegality that he has to kill the king and take his position, but to live his life as ruler in hiding. Shell interprets this as an “economic revolution” in Herodotus’ play on the words eidos (visible form), aidos (shame), oikos (home, household) and nomos (law). The power of coinage is that it “turns invisibles into visibles and visibles into invisibles.” Coins are both commodity (being made of gold) and the symbolon (the token, often a ring before the invention of coinage) of a contract, for example for turning real estate into money and back again, or money into real estate and back again. In the version of the myth of Gyges in Plato’s Republic, however, this becomes the foundation, and at the same time the negation, of how Socrates’ version of dialectical thought operates. Shell quotes Marx in “Critique of the Hegelian Dialectic and Philosophy as a Whole”: “Logic is the money of the mind, the speculative or thought-value of man and nature – their essence grown totally indifferent to all real determinate- ness, and hence their real essence” – and goes on to extend this to Plato:

There is a ring of Gyges secretly at work within the minds of men: it is the money of the mind. Sometimes Plato studies that money by considering his original metaphor that the seal of a ring impresses the waxen or metallic minds of men. More often he studies the money of the mind directly, by

26

Introduction

considering the thoughts of the sophists. Plato attacked sophists

. . .

be-

cause they changed money for wisdom (selling their wares and altering them according to the conditions of the market) and because, like the rhetori- cians, they made convention, as exemplified in language and money, their universal measure. Gyges the tyrant had the power to make the unreal ap-

pear real. (Shell 36-7)

The Republic sets out “to prove the superiority of the life of the philoso- pher to that of the tyrant” (Shell 45) and the rich man. It does so by a heroic effort to remove the Ideas (and thus truth and wisdom) outside of the reach of money and market exchange and visibility into a realm of the intelligible (to noeton), which reflects but also stands in dialectical op- position to the visible (to horaton). While tyranny hides itself, “philosophy seeks to make the Idea visible” (Shell 43). Dialectic and hypothesis, the foundations of Socratic, Platonic and Aristotelian thought, introduce “a new kind of symbolization or relation between things and that which represents them (language or money for example)” (Shell 47). Here metaphor is crucial, the “tropic turn” as Shell explains it, quoting Plato, “The eye must be turned around from that which is coming into being .

together with the whole soul until it is able to endure looking at that

which is

and the brightest part of that which is” (Plato, Republic as

quoted in Shell 50). In our usual sense of metaphor, deriving from Plato, the meaning of a metaphor is the higher invisible idea which is given expression in a visible trope. But Shell in the end prefers what he

sees as the theory of metaphor of Heraclitus of Miletus in Fragment 90:

All things are an equal exchange for fire and fire for all things, as goods are for gold and gold for goods (quoted in Shell 52)

Miletus was the port for the land-locked kingdom of Lydia, where its coinage was exchanged for goods carried by the Phoenicians, who dominated Eastern Mediterranean trade at the time but did not accept coinage. Miletus was also the birthplace of Greek philosophy, where poet-thinkers like Anaximander and Heraclitus speculated on which physical substance the world was made of: Heraclitus favoured fire, the dynamic element of change, Anaximander the apeiron, whose exact physical substance nobody has been able to ascertain. Such thought, according to Shell, and confirmed by Seaford, only became possible with the introduction of coinage:

Gold has a universal nature that

can become something else and yet still

. . . remain itself. Gold minted into a coin, for example, is both homogenous

Introduction

27

with itself (as gold) and heterogenous with itself (as numismatic sculpture or money). (Shell 53-4)

Metaphor in the subsequent Western tradition and in subsequent West- ern thought has the same ambiguity of being both homogenous and heterogenous. This is why Western philosophy has never been able to resolve the dialectic between materialism and idealism: all because of coined money. Seaford adds philological and historical depth to Shell’s intuition: as with Western philosophy, so with Western literature. The epic world of Homer, far from rejecting money, is a critique of it, for undermining the sharing and just partitioning of animal sacrifice, which underlay both the tribal-heroic world to which Homer looks back and the polis, which was establishing itself as the model community of Greek culture at the time of composition of The Iliad and The Odyssey. Both begin with “a crisis of redistribution” and a rejection of monetary compensation (Achilles to- wards Agamemnon and the Trojans, Odysseus in refusing to pay for the entertainment of Penelope’s suitors). Similarly tragedy, according to Sea- ford, begins in the conflict between the impersonality of money and individual identity:

Charakter refers both to Orestes’ distinguishing scar and to the mark on a coin. In other words the opposition between unique personal identity and typical value is exquisitely embodied in their each being recognised through a charakter. The ambiguity of charakter between scar and coin-mark represents the antithesis between the ancient uniqueness of the hero (marked here by a charakter) and a world in which the impersonal power of money has not only annihilated the uniqueness of the mythical hero but also provided a metaphor for the impersonal typicality of genuine worth. (Seaford 155)

If both metaphor and character are fatally flawed by money, it is per- haps not such a great leap to speculate, as David Graeber goes on to do (Graeber 223-51), that all the great Eurasian religions and moral systems to emerge in what Karl Jaspers called “the Axial Age” – the period from the great contemporaries Confucius, the Buddha and Pythagoras to Je- sus and Muhammad – were in fact responses to the introduction of coinage. This seems to have led initially to the development of philoso- phies of such absolute materialism that there literally were no moral qualms about selling your mother as dog food or your daughter as a prostitute. The reaction of outrage led to systems that disparaged money almost out of existence (Confucianism or Christianity) and systems that separated out a higher spiritual realm from a low material realm (Bud-

28

Introduction

dhism and Pythagoreanism, which in turn gave rise to Platonism) and made almost impossible demands for disciplined transcendence into pure spirituality. No pre-coinage system seems to have this total separa- tion of the material and the spiritual, physical and metaphysical – or imagines the world as being constituted purely of material elements. Maybe we need to return to the wisdom, practicality and pluralism of pre- coinage cultures. The proliferation of local currencies in the last decade or the shared economy or Zero Marginal Cost Society prophesied by Jeremy Rifkin, among others, may bring us back there in a new global “Collaborative Com- mons.” Bitcoin, the electronic money launched shortly after the collapse of Lehman Brothers, or at least the blockchain technology on which it is based, may be a universal unbreakable code of trust, as John Lanchester (“When Bitcoin Grows Up”) has recently suggested, at least until the banks get their hands on it. “Connectivity” and sharing may even break with the scarcity that is often defined as the very basis of economics, as the Marxist Paul Mason argues in Postcapitalism: A Guide to Our Future

(2015).

***

This, however, is not an exercise in futurology or a self-help book, nor is it, except in this framing introduction and perhaps the contributions of Richard Waswo and Oran McKenzie, a polemic with economics. It is a scholarly work with a very pluralistic conception of the economies of English. The contributions here also stem from a number of other intel- lectual traditions in the “economic humanities” that are not mentioned above, but some of which have a strong connection with Geneva. First come essays that deal with the notion of linguistic value, which is central to the thinking of Ferdinand de Saussure, the Genevese founder of structural linguistics and semiotics, including a version of Saussure’s biographer Professor John Joseph’s keynote address at the conference. Then follow essays which relate to the emerging discipline of language economics, one of whose foremost proponents is Professor François Grin of the University of Geneva, who kindly stepped in to replace the key- note of Marc Shell, when Shell had to cancel at the last moment. Lan- guage economics in Geneva has succeeded in putting actual monetary values to the acquisition of foreign languages for businesses and indi- viduals. Third, but not least come essays that relate to the movement sometimes known as “The New Economic Criticism,” which has revo-

Introduction

29

lutionized understanding of especially Early Modern literature, and one of whose founding figures is Richard Waswo, Emeritus professor in the English Department of the University of Geneva. Another founding figure, Professor Laura Brown of Cornell, gave a keynote at the confer- ence on the circulation of money in the eighteenth century as a found- ing trope of the modern novel. The last keynote was given by Professor Stefan Collini of the University of Cambridge, who decided to forego his usual polemic style in discussing the monetization of university edu- cation and instead concentrated on the poetics of university study. John Joseph’s contribution “The Cerebral Closet: Language as Valeur and Trésor in Saussure” discusses Saussure’s economic metaphor of valeur as it is presented in the Cours de linguistique générale. It places the notion of valeur in the innovative perspective of its relation to another economic metaphor, that of trésor, referring both to the object of Saussure’s inves- tigations, namely la langue, and to its location. Joseph shows that while the terms themselves may have been present in the teaching the future linguist and his colleagues received from their professors at the Gymnase de Genève, Saussure redefined such concepts as langage, signe, langue, valeur to fit them into the linguistic system he developed. Joseph raises the question of the source of inspiration which led to these reformula- tions. With carefully documented arguments, he shows that Henri Dameth’s courses on political economy, which Saussure followed, were very likely inspirational in Saussure’s reformulation of the notion of valeur. On the other hand, his notes on Victor Egger’s thesis on Inner Speech, which he read while he was in Paris in the early 1880s, reveal his first encounter with the idea that language includes an inner speech, the location of which is necessarily in the brain (but the debate about whether there should be a specific location went well beyond the dis- pute Egger had launched against Alexander Bain’s school). Joseph also dissects Saussure’s references to the mind’s closets (casier), which are not directly accessible (although the treasure, langage, is deposited there) but only via an externalization of language through parole. Here again, Jo- seph retraces the genealogy of the terms, and argues that Saussure had access to them via Egger, but also via Victor Henry and Henri Odier, two linguists Saussure knew and exchanged ideas with. Both the economist perspectives and the psychologically oriented perspectives are shown to have had an impact – whether as a source of inspiration or an argument of rejection – on Saussure’s innovative conception of lan- guage as a system. Claire Forel’s article, “Value of and in Learning Foreign Languages,” integrates the dual perspective of the value of language learning. On the

30

Introduction

one hand, the author notes that language policies build on the idea that there is a real economic benefit in learning foreign languages. Economy – here economy both as market value and non-market value, following François Grin’s definitions – of language learning may be measured both at the level of individuals and of a society. The market value may be associated with individuals’ well-being in terms of higher salaries or more interesting jobs. On the non-market side, as repeatedly empha- sized by the Council of Europe, foreign language teaching contributes to unity through “mutual enrichment and understanding.” But Forel also claims that foreign language teaching is central to what was already underlined by Ferdinand de Saussure, namely that linguistic diversity contributes to linguistic awareness. It is only through the prism of the differences that a coherent system can be built. Therefore, foreign lan- guages have an intrinsic non-market value. Among other concrete im- plementations of foreign language learning, Forel examines the contri- butions of the EOLE (Eveil au Langage et Ouverture aux Langues) pro- gramme of the Suisse Romande schools to the notion of language awareness. The programme encourages teachers of young (primary school) pupils to explore the linguistic diversity of the class, comparing for example animal cries in different languages. It also focuses on the arbitrariness of the sign by encouraging the children to compare deter- miner+noun units and the gender they carry. The author shows that the various approaches to the notion of language are deeply rooted in Saus- sure’s concept of language as a system of values. In “Teaching and Learning English in Geneva: Questions of Econ- omy, Identity, Globality and Usefulness,” Eva Waltermann and Virág Csillagh propose new perspectives on English as a (new) foreign lan- guage in a multicultural and multilingual environment such as Switzer- land. One side of the question considers the value of English as a for- eign language from the learner/speaker’s point of view. The authors show how the introduction of English as a foreign language in the teaching curricula, first at the secondary school level and, more recently, in primary schools has modified the perspective not only on English, but also on national languages. The growing emphasis on the economic advantage of English appears as a counterweight to the question of identity, of social cohesion associated with national languages. Using Grin’s model of the economic weight of foreign languages, they show that knowledge of a second national language dramatically increases the income of a worker in Switzerland. However, in terms of personal mo- tivations, a study carried out in Geneva reveals that English appears as the language which is the most positively perceived in terms of future

Introduction

31

self-vision. Moreover, the motivation for language learning is strongly shaped by contextual factors and by the importance of English as self- defined by local values. A complementary approach considers the point of view of foreign language teachers. The authors argue that teachers play a major role in the construction of foreign language perception and representation in the teaching/learning process. A large-scale study, car- ried out among more than a hundred secondary language schoolteachers in Geneva, reveals different perceptions about foreign languages. For example among the most cited word associations for English one finds “international,” “Shakespeare” (!) or “useful.” Compared to other for- eign languages, the term “useful” is again ranked very high for English. But its relative value on the beautiful/ugly and the easy/difficult scales is also high. The authors conclude that in the language teachers’ repre- sentations, the social value of English is very high, and is associated with more positive subjective connotations than (second) national languages. Sarah Chevalier’s contribution, “The Value of English in Multilingual Families,” also examines the value of English in a multilingual environ- ment. But her study targets language in the private sphere, in multilin- gual families. A study incorporating 35 families examines the motiva- tions for choosing one or another of the available languages or even adding a new one to the linguistic environment of the family. The study, carried out on tri- and quadrilingual families with young and primary school age children, reveals that when a language which is not part of the linguistic background of either parent is added, the choice is, with- out exception, English. Given the background of the interviewed fami- lies, the author concludes that the choice of English reveals that it is valued as a language of global communication, which offers social and economic advantage to its speakers. Richard Waswo begins his article “Shakespeare and the Modern Economy” with the incomprehension and ridicule that met Marco Polo when he reported on the use of paper money in China. Westerners have resisted paper money “until just yesterday” – in seventeenth and eight- eenth century Europe and nineteenth century America – out of “the occidental fixation on value as something intrinsic to the object itself” rather than a social convention. Even today some bankers and econo- mists seriously urge a return to the gold standard. Shakespeare, however, in the formative years of the modern capitalist economy in the sixteenth and seventeenth century, saw that money and words are homologous systems of exchange and dramatized the basic principles of this in a way only expressed by one or two other writers at the time, most clearly by the Florentine banker and man of letters Bernardo Davanzati. Shake-

32

Introduction

speare (in Waswo’s words) explores how “neither money nor words need represent anything at all, but are social facts based on assent and trust, or credit – the fiduciary principle” and “that value is established in exchange and constituted by desire – the volitional corollary.” This is evident in different ways in the action and argument of The Merchant of Venice, where value, credit and belief are issues both in the main plot that leads to the court argument between Shylock and the disguised Portia – and in the erotic and marital subplot. Law and not mercy, as Waswo sees it, carries the day “as it must in a state that lives by com- merce.” In a different but related way, the strange and infrequently per- formed Troilus and Cressida is seen to parody the conventions of epic and courtly love under the ruthlessness of the new economic principles. Indira Ghose in “Money, Morals and Manners in Renaissance Cour- tesy Literature” looks at the nexus between wealth and noble status in the new genre created in Italy to redefine the role of the aristocracy as its military function waned in the early modern period. This genre was transmitted into English by translations of its masterpiece, Castiglione’s The Courtier and many other lesser works, but also in books written by Englishmen like Sir Thomas Elyot in The Boke Named the Governor (1539). The debate in these books, often in dialogue form, purports to be about whether the essence of nobility is innate or acquired through virtue, as humanism maintained. But money (or wealth) plays a crucial role, often leading to contortions of argument, which Ghose chooses to see not just as blatant hypocrisy, but as a serious logical, moral (because it con- travened Christian notions of virtue, which disparaged money) and prac- tical problem, which led to some inventive solutions. Riches, Aristotle had argued in both his Politics and Nichomachean Ethics, were essential to enable the virtues of liberality, generosity and disdain for pettiness which were characteristic of the gentleman. The courtesy literature both served to defend aristocratic privilege and became highly profitable as manuals for those aspiring to join the ranks of the aristocracy. To fulfil this dual purpose, the genre turned wealth either into a precondition, in the case of Elyot, to allow the aristocracy to devote itself to public ser- vice, or in the case of Castiglione, a form of display of manners, a sprez- zatura, which Ghose argues prefigures Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of cul- tural capital by centuries. Rahel Orgis in “‘Father and Son, I ha’ done you simple service here’:

The (Interrupted) Circulation of Money in Middleton and Dekker’s The Roaring Girl” turns her attention to the surprising number of money transactions in the play. This despite the fact that, as Richard Waswo has pointed out, “money was in endemically short supply” in England in

Introduction

33

the period, and most trade, as the influential historian Craig Muldrew has shown, was based on pervasive debt and credit networks. The circu- lation of money thus, according to Orgis, emerges as an important theme in the play – with the protagonist Moll Frith, a high-ranking ser- vant woman, functioning as a critic of self-interested money transactions and as an agent of the success or failure of the transactions. Moll, the “Roaring Girl,” has been seen both as a cross-dressing proto-feminist and as an ultimately conservative figure who is reintegrated into patriar- chal society. Orgis sees her as an ambivalent and transitional figure be- tween a perhaps idealized economy of personal service, where fool- hardy, but generous spendthrifts are saved, while parsimonious usurers are punished, and a “new economy” of self-interested financial transac- tions. In “‘How to Live Well on Nothing a Year’: Money, Credit and Debt in William Makepeace Thackeray’s Vanity Fair,” Barbara Straumann takes us into a financial and fictive economy, where self-interest is well- established as the basic principle. Thackeray’s novel from 1848 offers a satirical panorama of a society obsessed with acquisitiveness, wealth and status. The protagonist Rebecca Sharpe shows her great intelligence by using the vanities of others to gain both social and financial credit – without ever repaying her debts. Straumann argues that Becky Sharpe’s ability to live off the credulousness of her creditors is an effect of what the German theorist or “theologian of markets” Jochen Hörisch has called the “autopoiesis” of money: the idea that money is backed by the belief in money. Money in Hörisch’s definition, Straumann explains, “produces and reproduces itself in a self-referential system and, at the same time, requires our belief in order to work.” Becky’s self-fashioning as a character is of the same order – and commands the admiration even of people she has abused. There is even a sense in which Thackeray lays bare his fictional world as functioning according to these same princi- ples, perhaps because he was among those Victorian novelists financially dependent on selling his fiction. What is unusual about Vanity Fair is not its exposure of an economy of “credit, debt, poverty, extreme wealth and economic extravagance,” as Straumann puts it, but that its protagonist is a woman depicted as “an autonomous and independent economic agent” motivated by self-interest rather than domestic re- sponsibility. Sangam MacDuff in “‘Scrupulous Meanness,’ Joyce’s Gift and the Symbolic Economy of Dubliners” takes the question of economy into the domain of literary style. “Scrupulous meanness” is Joyce’s own descrip- tion in a letter to his publisher of the style he intended to use in the

34

Introduction

book that would become Dubliners. The style of Dubliners, as MacDuff puts it, “is famously economical, if not miserly,, and Joyce’s treatment of his characters and their role in what Joyce called “the moral history of Ireland” is harsh, but as MacDuff goes on to add, “the sparseness of the stories is complemented by richly symbolic passages in which Joyce’s poetic gift shines through.” As critics like Mark Osteen have pointed out, however, Joyce in his writing as in his life “reconciles spendthrift habits with bourgeois thrift to create an aesthetic economy of the gift, where loss is gain.” The article demonstrates this in a close reading of the story “Two Gallants”: a deceptively simple tale of “how two men, Lenehan and Corley, conspire to extract a gold sovereign from a young slavey, or maid of all work.” In the course of his analysis MacDuff shows how an economy of circulation, which many critics have ob- served in Joyce’s work, a circulation of information and gossip, of a rambling walk through Dublin, of the very elliptical story of the coin and the deceit of the “two gallants,” is actually interrupted at various points, and it is at these points that lyricism, significance and epiphany break into the prose. This is where the meanness of moral judgment gives way to the gift economy (as Marcel Mauss or Anne Carson might have theorized it) of poetry, the gnomon of growth, which in the first paragraph of Dubliners is paired with two words of moral judgment: pa- ralysis and simony, one which is famously supposed to sum up Joyce’s judgment on Dublin and Ireland, the other of which refers to the selling of indulgences and preferments in the Church. In “Slippery Subjects: Intersecting Economies of Genre in Gay Male Coming-Out Films, 1995-2015,” Martin Mühlheim turns towards econ- omy as a defining feature of genre, especially an emerging genre such as gay male coming-out films. Mühlheim has noticed the frequency of the motif of men or boys going swimming in the genre and employs a methodology borrowed from Franco Moretti’s distant reading, which Mühlheim terms distant viewing, to try to get a sense of the statistical prevalence of the motif. The article explains the frequency of the motif through a set of intersecting reasons – aesthetic, legal and economic – which in the film industry give rise to generic conventions, and finally arrives at the conclusion that swimming scenes are particularly frequent in the sub-group of coming-out films which feature – or are targeted at – protagonists “still struggling to establish a non-heterosexual self- identity.” Finally, Oran McKenzie in “Spillage and Banditry: Anne Carson’s Derivatives” returns us to the Canadian poet, who is quoted at the very beginning of this introduction. McKenzie’s essay argues that new no-

Introduction

35

tions of literary value are needed to account for Carson’s poetry, which is conceived for the age of financial derivatives. Not that Carson follows the American poet Kenneth Goldsmith into what he calls “uncreative writing,” which “abandons traditional poetic practices in favour of ac- tivities such as databasing, recycling, appropriation and intentional pla- giarism.” Rather Carson’s poetics in The Economy of the Unlost (1999) or her poetic practice in Decreation (2005) stem from a deep engagement, born out of her training as a classical philologist, with how the introduc- tion of coinage in Lydia in the seventh century BC changed – or even created – subsequent ways of thinking in philosophy and poetry: the perception of reality and value, the notions of self, subject and object, the separation of form and matter. In her poetry Carson takes derivation (in both the literary and economic sense) beyond traditional forms of intertextuality, encouraging a “spillage” of sources within the text, which she observes already in Longinus’ essay On the Sublime. Through her own practice of a form of “banditry” trading on this spillage, which makes the relationship between the original and the derivative ever more ob- scure, Carson explores the possibility of a poetical order grounded in a different kind of visibility and value from that of a coinage based cul- ture. This new poetics, which Carson the classicist in effect traces back to Simonides of Keos at the very beginning of the Greek canon, does not deal in representations, illusionism and exchanges between an es-

tranged self and an other, but strives for the “withness” of a new form of gift economy.

Martin Leer

36

Introduction

References

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Hayek, Friedrich von. The Road to Serfdom. London: Routledge 1944.

Jennings, Kate. Moral Hazard. New York and London: Fourth Estate,

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New York Times Magazine, 2 September 2009. ―――. The Conscience of a Liberal: Blog associated with The New York Times. ―――. “Money: The Brave New Uncertainty of Mervyn King.” New York: New York Review of Books, 14 July 2016. Lanchester, John. “Cityphobia.” London Review of Books, vol. 30, no. 20, 23 October 2008, 3-5. ―――. Whoops! Why Everyone Owes Everyone and No One Can Pay. London:

Allen Lane, 2010. ―――. “When Bitcoin Grows Up.” London Review of Books, vol. 38, no. 8, April 2016, 3-12. Leer, Martin. “Willing Suspension of Disbelief: A Literary Critic Looks at Financial Meltdown.” Planet: The Welsh Internationalist 192, Decem- ber 2008- January 2009, 16-22. Lewis, Michael. Liar’s Poker: Rising through the Wreckage on Wall Street. New York: Norton, 1989. ―――. The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine. New York: Norton,

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Martin, Felix. Money: The Unauthorised Biography. London: Vintage, 2013. Mason, Paul. Postcapitalism: A Guide to Our Future. London: Allen Lane,

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John Wiley, 2007. Piketty, Thomas. Capital in the Twenty-First Century. (Cambridge, Massa- chusetts: Harvard University Press, 2014. Polanyi, Karl. The Great Transformation: The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time. Boston: Beacon Press, 2001 (originally 1944). Reinhart, Carmen and Kenneth Rogoff. This Time Is Different: Eight Cen- turies of Financial Folly. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009. Rifkin, Jeremy. The Zero Marginal Cost Society: The Internet of Things, the Col- laborative Commons and the Eclipse of Capitalism. London and New York:

St Martin’s Press, 2015. Sandel, Michael. What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets. Lon- don and New York: Penguin 2012. Saul, John Ralston. The Collapse of Globalism. New York: Atlantic Books,

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edy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Sedlacek, Tomas. Economics of Good and Evil: The Quest for Economic Mean- ing from Gilgamesh to Wall Street. Oxford: Oxford University Press,

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Taleb, Nassim Nicholas. The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improb- able. New York: Random House, 2007. ―――. Fooled by Randomness: The Hidden Role of Chance in Life and in the Markets. New York: Random House, 2001.

The Cerebral Closet: Language as valeur and trésor in Saussure

John E. Joseph

The economic metaphor of valeur plays a central role in the Cours de lin- guistique générale of Ferdinand de Saussure, which defines a language as a system of values. Much ink has been spilled in speculation over its pos- sible sources, while relatively little attention has been given to another economic metaphor used by Saussure: that of language as a trésor, an ambiguous word which can refer either to valuables (in which valeur is stored) or to a container for valuables. Both meanings are apposite, since the metaphor arises in the context of discussing both what a lan- guage is and where it is located in the people who know it. In tnis study I examine work in political economics and psychology that Saussure had encountered, and show how the metaphors become more meaningful in the light of what his predecessors maintained about the nature of eco- nomic value, and about how knowledge of language is stored – within the nervous-muscular system involved in language production, or in what Alexander Bain scorned as a “cerebral closet.” Also considered is Saussure’s position on the negotiation of value in parole and in dia- chrony, and how his views on the trésor in multiple brains compares and contrasts with present-day views of extended cognition and distributed language.

1. The background to value in the Cours de linguistique générale

Two economic metaphors are especially striking in the Cours de linguis- tique générale (henceforth CLG), compiled posthumously from notes taken by students of Ferdinand de Saussure (1857-1913) in lectures he gave between 1907 and 1911. For Saussure, a language is a system of va-

Economies of English. SPELL: Swiss Papers in English Language and Literature 33. Ed. Martin Leer and Genoveva Puskás. Tübingen: Narr, 2016. 39-61.

40

John E. Joseph

leurs, values, in a sense that will be explored below; this word occurs many times in the book. In addition, in some passages it refers to a lan- guage as a trésor, an accumulation of valuables or the container for one. Neither valeur nor trésor has an exclusively economic meaning: values can be moral, and a trésor can be a box or pouch which has never actu- ally had money or valuables in it. Both meanings of trésor – as stored value (the contents meaning), and the location where values are stored (the container meaning) – are apposite in the context, since the CLG is discussing both what a language is and where it is located in the people who know it. 1 Saussure’s contribution to the understanding of language from the early 20th century onwards lay in no small part with his conceptual de- ployment of valeur. He envisaged a language as a collection of signs, each the conjunction of a signified, or mental concept, with a signifier, a mental sound pattern or sound-image. The term sound-image is decep- tive, though, because a signifier is neither a sound nor an image, but a value. Nor is a signified a concept, exactly. The values that signifiers and signifieds consist of are nothing other than their difference from all the other signifiers and signifieds in the language system. This modernist way of conceiving of a language was strikingly origi- nal to those who heard Saussure’s lectures on general linguistics in Ge- neva from 1907 to 1911, and to the hundreds, and eventually millions, who read the CLG, the centenary of which we celebrate in 2016. It set linguistics on a new path, to be followed in time by ethnography, psy- choanalysis, phenomenology, literary and cultural studies, sociology and other disciplines in which structuralism had an impact. Yet these con- cepts of sign and value were far from new. They had figured in Saus- sure’s own education, before being abandoned as passé, and then forgot- ten until he unwittingly resurrected them. As detailed in Joseph (Saussure), between his secondary education at the Collège de Genève and his university studies Saussure attended the Gymnase de Genève, which was located in the buildings of the Univer- sité de Genève, and where the teachers were men who also taught at the Collège or Université or both. The course given by the director of the Gymnase, Isaac-Antoine Verchère (1827-1916), may have had the most enduring impact on Saussure. One of his classmates wrote in his mem- oirs that Verchère “gave us an enjoyable logic course of extreme sim-

1 Also meriting consideration are dépôt, which occurs at CLG 232 and can have the meaning of a financial deposit, and somme, which appears frequently in the book; but space limitations require me to set them aside, as it does the instances of all these words in the source materials that are not reflected in the published Cours.

The Cerebral Closet

41

plicity” (Lemaître 36); 2 another recalled that “I did not understand very much of it; the subject of his course was, I think, psychology” (David 110). 3 In fact the course was a comprehensive survey of philosophy from ancient to modern times, and it did cover psychology as well. It is interesting that Lemaître remembered it as a course in Logic, which was one of the main subdivisions and which included the section on lan- guage. The course notes taken by one student open:

One of the great apanages of the human species is the ability to communi- cate intellectually. These communications are carried out by different means which generally take the name of language [langage]. The material processes are called signs. But if one gives a sign to an absent person it no longer has any value. Every time a collection of conventional or natural signs is made, this is called a language [langage]. There are several systems of signs: thus the sounds of the voice or speech [parole], which is language par excellence (la langue) (παραβολα [parabola], comparison, then language [langage]). (Cla-

parède f. 426) 4

Notes from a similar course that Saussure took as a university student, given by Henri-Frédéric Amiel (1821-1881), now remembered for his Journal intime (originally published in two volumes in 1882-4), likewise contain material on sign theory that links back to Amiel’s and Ver- chère’s own education of half a century earlier. Then the 17th-18th cen- tury grammaire générale tradition was still the core of Genevese education, unlike in France, where it had not survived Napoleonic reforms. 5 It is striking how many of the terms we associate with Saussure are present in this paragraph from Verchère: langage, signe, langue, parole and, of course, valeur. These terms were part of the academic air that Saussure grew up breathing; and when he began to lecture on general linguistics

  • 2 “Notre professeur de philosophie, M. Verchère, nous donnait un agréable cours de logique d’une extrême simplicité.” This and all other translations are my own unless otherwise indicated.

  • 3 “Verchère enseignait la philosophie, à laquelle je ne comprenais pas grand-chose; la matière de son cours était, je crois, la pscychologie.”

  • 4 “Un des grands appanages de l’espèce humaine c’est de pouvoir communiquer intellec-

tuellement. Ces communications se font par différents moyens qui portent généralement le nom de langage. Les procédés matériels s’appellent signes. Mais si on fait un signe à une personne absente il n’a plus de valeur. Toutes les fois qu’on fait une collection de signes conventionnels ou naturels, cela s’appelle un langage. Il y a plusieurs systèmes de signes: ainsi les sons de la voix ou parole, c’est le langage par excellence (la langue) (παραβολα, comparaison, puis langage).”

  • 5 For more on Genevese education in the first half of the 19th century see Joseph, “Language Pedagogy.”

42

John E. Joseph

in 1907 he may have been unaware that his students had grown up in a changed atmosphere. Saussure was in the one of the very last cohorts to be taught by these men of his grandparents’ generation. But the terms do not have the same value in Verchère’s use of them as they will in Saussure’s. He redefined all of them, making them into a system, where the value of each depends on its relation to the others. How did he come to conceive of them in this new way? Saussure men- tions économie politique in his lectures on general linguistics, and many have speculated about economic theorists who may have influenced him. He never cites any. But the journal kept by one of his friends dur- ing their time as a student in the Université de Genève records that “De Saussure is taking an impossible load of courses, a bit of everything, theology, law, sciences; he’s taking second-year courses where he under- stands nothing, since he didn’t take the first year. In short, he’s doing it as only he can” (Pictet). 6 The Law Faculty had a course on political economy, taught by Henri Dameth (1812-1884), formerly a teacher in the prestigious Lycée Louis- le-Grand in Paris, until his Fourierist affiliations got him into trouble with the administration of Napoleon III (Busino and Stelling-Michaud 16). Dameth’s Introduction à l’étude de l’économie politique was published in 1865, with a second edition in 1878, just three years after Saussure was attending lectures in his Faculty. It consists of a set of lectures, bound to be close, if not identical, to his university lectures. This is the nearest we have to a documented source for Saussure’s comments on economics, and such is the oblivion into which Dameth has fallen that it was never explored prior to Joseph, “Saussure’s Value(s).” In his second lecture Dameth asks:

So, has political economics discovered the great generating fact that plays such a decisive role in constituting a science? – Yes, it is the notion of value. To such a degree that a good many economists today propose defining political eco-

nomics as the science of value. (Dameth 24, 2 30) 7

6 “De Saussure prend un tas de cours impossible, un peu de tout, il est autant en Théologie qu’en Droit, qu’en Sciences; il prend des cours de 2 ème année où il ne com- prend rien, vu que la I ère lui manque. Bref, il fait cela à sa manière lui.”

7 “Enfin, l’économie politique a-t-elle découvert ce grand fait générateur qui joue un rôle si décisif dans la constitution d’une science? – Oui, c’est la notion de la valeur. A telles enseignes que bon nombre d’économistes proposent aujourd’hui de définir l’économie politique la science de la valeur.”

The Cerebral Closet

43

Saussure too will confront the question of whether linguistics is a sci- ence, and will argue that it is a science of values. When Dameth comes to explain prix, he again does so in terms that will have echoes in Saus- sure’s discussion in the CLG:

A rather intense degree of observation is needed to comprehend: (1) that price is only the monetary expression of the value of goods; (2) that, in the formation of price, money only plays the role of a term of comparison be- tween goods; (3) that the value of the money itself depends on the ratio of the quantity of it available relative to the quantity of goods for which it

serves as the means of exchange. (Dameth 41) 8

Goods have a value, expressible in money, which is only a term of com- parison – of difference – between goods. We have seen Verchère point- ing out that the word parole derives from Greek parabola, comparison. At the same time, money itself has a value which depends on how much of it is available relative to the supply of goods. But what determines the value of particular goods? Dameth says that economists recognize a “natural” or “real” value of goods, which represents their total cost of production, including raw materials, interest on capital, workers’ salaries, taxes, transportation and the like. This he says gives the “essence” of the price of the goods; but not their market price. That follows the law of supply and demand, which “oscillates incessantly around the natural price and sometimes even strays distantly from it” (Dameth 41, 2 52). 9 The CLG recalls this rela- tionship: “through one of its sides a value is rooted in things and their natural relations (as is the case in economic science – for example the value of a plot of land is proportional to what it brings in” (CLG 2 116). 10 But it then denies that this applies in the case of language, where there is no such natural basis, all being instead completely arbi- trary. The system of a language is so complex that it is impossible to

  • 8 “[I]l faut un degré d’observation déjà assez intense pour comprendre: 1º que le prix n’est que l’expression monétaire de la valeur des marchandises; 2º que la monnaie ne joue, dans la formation du prix, que le rôle d’un terme de comparaison des marchandises entre elles; 3º que la valeur de l’argent lui-même dépend de son rapport de quantité présente avec celle des marchandises auxquelles il sert de moyen d’échange.” Some changes were made to this passage in the 1878 edition.

  • 9 “oscille incessamment autour du prix naturel et s’en éloigne même parfois beaucoup.”

10 “par un de ses côtés une valeur a sa racine dans les choses et leurs rapports naturels (comme c’est le cas dans la science économique – par exemple un fonds de terre vaut en proportion de ce qu’il rapporte).”

44

John E. Joseph

study simultaneously the two axes which the CLG at this point christens synchronic and diachronic. They must be analyzed in sequence. Dameth gives a potted history of the idea of value. First there was the mistaken identification of value with price. This the economists re- placed with another concept, equating value with utility. This was pro- gress, as it made value “internal, inherent to the object bought and sold”

(77, 2 95) 11 –but only by shifting the burden of definition from “What is value?” to “What is utility?” Nothing is more useful to man than air or light, yet because the supply of these is not limited, they have no ‘value’ in the economic sense. The utility-based concept of value fails to take supply and demand into account. The next step was to place the origin of value in human work: this Dameth (80, 2 99) attributes to Adam Smith’s distinction between “usage value and exchange value,” 12 a necessary bridge out of pure utility. Ulti- mately though, the value of usage is individually based; it might apply to Robinson Crusoe on his island, but not to value in society. “The mo- ment we leave this novelistic fiction, in order to reason about society, usage value too disappears, absorbed by exchange value” (81, 2 100]). 13 Dameth reduces his principle to a formula: “Value is the power of exchange that services possess relative to one another” (85, 2 105-6). 14 He adds that “the chief meaning of this notion is that to man alone be- longs the creation of value; that in reality he neither sells nor buys nor

exchanges anything other than this

[. .

.].” 15 In other words, what can be

owned, bought, sold or exchanged is not goods or property but value alone, and that is a human creation. “So conceived, the economic world appears to us as a vast market in which services are exchanged for ser- vices.” 16 When the CLG revisits value at greater length, it takes this ex- change-based approach, which helps us understand what Saussure meant in repeatedly calling a language a “social fact.”

  • 11 “interne, inhérent à l’objet qui se vend et s’achète.”

  • 12 “la valeur d’usage et la valeur d’échange.”

  • 13 “Dès que nous sortons de cette fiction de roman, pour raisonner sur la société, la valeur d’usage disparaît à son tour, absorbée par la valeur d’échange.”

  • 14 “La valeur est la puissance relative d’échange que possèdent les services entre eux.”

  • 15 “le sens capital de cette notion, c’est qu’à l’homme seul appartient la création de la valeur; qu’il ne vend et n’achète ou n’échange en réalité que cela […].”

  • 16 “Ainsi conçu, le monde économique nous apparaît comme un vaste marché où des services s’échangent contre des services.”

The Cerebral Closet

45

Even outside language, all values

[. .

.] are always constituted:

(1) by a dissimilar thing susceptible to being exchanged for something of which the value is to be determined; (2) by similar things that can be compared with the one whose value is in ques- tion.

[. .

.] Hence for a five-franc piece, one needs to know: (1) that it can be ex-

changed for a determinate quantity of something different, for example bread; (2) that it can be compared with a similar value of the same system (a dollar, etc.). Likewise a word can be exchanged for something dissimilar: an idea; moreover, it can be compared with something of the same nature: an-

other word. (CLG 2 159-60]) 17

This is one of those instances where the CLG, for ease of exposition, keeps the vernacular terms word and idea, which it elsewhere replaces with signifier and signified.

2. From parole and diachrony to synchronic langue

For Saussure, parole, the production of utterances, is a free linguistic market. An individual brings his or her innovation to it, which may or may not “sell” to the broader speech community, in the sense that oth- ers hearing it may or may not start using it themselves. Most of the time they do not, but innovations are adopted often enough to ensure that no language stays unaltered over time. The market is free in the sense that changes from below, in social terms, are no less likely to occur than changes from above. If anything, the reverse is true (apart from cases where a strong-arm regime punishes disobedience of its linguistic dik- tats, and even that tends to spawn resistance). What is it that determines whether a given innovation is adopted as a language-wide change? Saussure did not pretend to offer an answer; lin- guists can only give a post hoc rationale, based on the general assumption that an innovation that succeeds must offer something positive to the

17 “[M]ême en dehors de la langue, toutes les valeurs

[. .

.] sont toujours constituées: 1º

par une chose dissemblable susceptible d’être échangée contre celle dont la valeur est à dé- terminer; 2º par les choses similaires qu’on peut comparer avec celle dont la valeur est en

cause.

[. .

.] Ainsi pour déterminer ce que vaut une pièce de cinq francs, il faut savoir: 1º

qu’on peut l’échanger contre une quantité déterminée d’une chose différente, par exem- ple du pain; 2º qu’on peut la comparer avec une valeur similaire du même système, par exemple une pièce d’un franc, ou avec une monnaie d’un autre système: (un dollar, etc.). De même un mot peut être échangé contre quelque chose de dissemblable: une idée; en outre, il peut être comparé avec quelque chose de même nature: un autre mot.”

46

John E. Joseph

languaging experience. Greater ease, perhaps – but this is tricky, because ease is not objectively measurable, and in many areas of language, as Gabelentz recognized, greater ease of articulation means that more ef- fort has to be put into comprehension. Greater nuance, greater expres- sivity – again, all ultimately subjective. Joseph (“Iconicity”) discusses cases in which Saussure applies what we might call iconicity or sound symbolism (he did not use either term) as an explanation for the devel- opment of certain seemingly exceptional forms in Latin and Greek. This is surprising, since Saussure is remembered for making the arbitrariness of linguistic signs the first principle of his synchronic linguistics. But how signs are used in parole, and how, consequently, they change in dia- chrony, is another matter: here the subjective reactions of some speakers might suffice to shift the balance in favour of a change, so that it be- comes prevalent in parole and eventually in a new state of the language (état de langue). Saussure (“Adjectifs”) proposes that a particular set of sounds had a meaning or quasi-meaning in Indo-European. The “type” in question is a group of adjectives linked phonetically by having a diphthong that starts with /a/, and semantically by referring to some infirmity or devia- tion from the “right” or “straight.” The diphthong could be /ai/ (as in Latin caecus “blind”) or /au/, but also /ar/, /al/, /an/ or /am/, all of which are analyzed by Saussure, starting in his early Mémoire, as /a/ + sonant, hence as diphthongs in the same way that /a/ + /i/, or /a/ + /u/, form diphthongs. There is iconicity in the correlation between how the “straight” vowel /a/ “deviates” off into the sonant, and the meaning of deviance from the straight, the normal. Saussure points out that words with /a/ diphthongs, such as Latin blaesus “stammering,” claudus “limping,” calvus “bald,” mancus “maimed,” are few in number and are isolated within the language, being attached neither to any strong verb nor to an etymological family. The a diphthongs would be marked (to use a later terminology) for rarity and isolation, and being so marked they would correlate with meanings that likewise involve marginality or abnormality. It is through the regularity of this correlation that these apparently marginal elements are incorporated into the system where everything connects. But how does this happen? Saussure’s explanation relies on another aspect of his general linguistic system, the relationship of synchrony to diachrony. He imagines

a time when there existed perhaps only four or five adjectives of “infirmity” with the diphthongs ai, au, an, etc. Around this nucleus furnished by chance, ever more numerous formations will have come to fix themselves, where a

The Cerebral Closet

47

certain community of ideas favoured diphthongs with a. It would thus in-

volve a fact of lexical analogy

[. .

.]. (Saussure, “Adjectifs” 206) 18

Note that he attributes the origin of this “nucleus” not to iconicity, but to chance. Once the cryptotype was established, however, diphthongs with /a/ were “favoured” for words sharing this general idea of infir- mity. The favouring would presumably take place in the competition amongst innovative forms that occurs within parole. For Saussure, the key question in language change is not “Why are new forms intro- duced?” In parole speakers are constantly introducing new forms, only a tiny proportion of which will find the social sanction that will make them part of langue (in a new état de langue). Rather, the question is “Why are certain forms sanctioned and not others?” (see Saussure, Deuxième cours 47; Joseph, “‘La teinte’”). This is where the sort of analogy-driven favouring he refers to could make a difference. The associative relations that are central to Saussure’s conception of langue make it plausible that the analogy he proposes was synchronically real for speakers – again, for some speakers, enough of them for it to have left a recoverable diachronic trace, but perhaps not enough of them for the set of /a/ diphthongs to form a morpheme, a meaningful unit in the langue that all speakers share – the trésor, in the contents sense.

3. Language as trésor, value as difference, and the cerebral closet

On one occasion the CLG uses trésor to describe a language in a way that rather clearly means the contents:

It is a trésor deposited by the practice of parole in the subjects belonging to one same community, a grammatical system existing virtually in each brain, or more exactly in the brains of an ensemble of individuals; for the language is not complete in any one, it exists perfectly only in the mass. (CLG 2 30) 19

  • 18 “le temps où il n’existait peut-être que quatre ou cinq adjectifs ‘d’infirmité’ avec le

vocalisme ai, au, an, etc. Autour de ce noyau fourni par le hasard seront venues se fixer des formations toujours plus nombreuses, où une certaine communauté de l’idée mettait

en faveur les diphtongues par a. Il s’agirait donc d’un fait d’analogie lexicologique

[. .

.].”

  • 19 “C’est un trésor déposé par la pratique de la parole dans les sujets appartenant à une même communauté, un système grammatical existant virtuellement dans chaque cerveau, ou plus exactement dans les cerveaux d’un ensemble d’individus; car la langue n’est complète dans aucun, elle n’existe parfaitement que dans la masse.”

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John E. Joseph

Harris’s translation (13) has “a fund accumulated” for un trésor déposé, while Baskin’s (13) has “a storehouse filled.” When ten years later Harris translated a student’s notes from Saussure’s third course in general lin- guistics (1910-11), in the passage corresponding to Saussure (CLG 2 30) he rendered trésor as “hoard” (Saussure, Troisième cours 7a). If Baskin’s “filled” is a stretch for déposé, it lets him translate trésor consistently as “storehouse” on its other occurrences (Baskin 123, 165):

[T]hese coordinations

[. .

.] do not have an extension to support them; their

seat is in the brain; they are part of this inner trésor that constitutes the lan-

guage in each individual. We shall call them associative relations. (CLG 2 171) 20

Every analogical creation must be preceded by an unconscious comparison of the materials deposited in the trésor of the langue where the generating forms are arranged according to their syntagmatic and associative relations.

(CLG 2 227) 21

In the first passage, Harris (122) has “that accumulated store” for ce trésor intérieur, and again “store” for trésor in the second (164). The first passage comes from Saussure’s second course in general linguistics (1908-9), the second from the first course (1907). Harris’s student Wolf translated a set of student notes from each of these courses, rendering its occurrences of trésor as “treasury” (Saussure, Deuxième cours 119, 123) or “fund” (Saussure, Premier cours 63, 65, 66, 67). Before looking more closely at the student notes, which bring in other metaphors alongside trésor, some of them clearly of the container rather than contents type, it is worth considering the background to how the retention of knowledge was conceived. Joseph (Language, Mind and Body) recounts the long history – as old as history itself – of arguments over what knowledge is and what form it takes in whoever or whatever has it. Through the middle ages and well into the modern period, medical and philosophical writers generally lo- cated memory in the posterior ventricle (or cell) of the brain, while the anterior ventricle was where sensory input and motor output were regu- lated by the common sense, and the middle ventricle was responsible

  • 20 “[C]es coordinations

[. .

.] n’ont pas pour support l’étendue; leur siège est dans le

cerveau; elles font partie de ce trésor intérieur qui constitue la langue chez chaque indi- vidu. Nous les appellerons rapports associatifs.”

  • 21 “Toute création doit être précédée d’une comparaison inconsciente des matériaux déposés dans le trésor de la langue où les formes génératrices sont rangées selon leurs rapports syntagmatiques et associatifs.”

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49

for reasoning. The rebirth of anatomical study in the early modern pe- riod brought improved understanding of the nervous system, and medi- cal observation of reflexes showed that some nervous-muscular reac- tions involved only the spinal cord and not the brain. British philoso- phers starting with Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) and John Locke (1632- 1704) put forward a theory of “associations” as the source of knowl- edge, which David Hartley (1705-1757) would develop into an account of how knowledge is not only acquired but “stored” as vibrations in the nervous system. This associationism persisted in Britain, surviving peri- ods in which rival theories were more to the fore. In the second half of the 19th century, the work of Alexander Bain (1818-1903) put forward an up-to-date version of associationism that took account of contemporary medical science. It became the new modernism of the younger generation of French psychologists, thanks mainly to its being championed by Hippolyte Taine. Bain laid out a se- ries of “general laws of alliance of body and mind,” of which a central one was the Principle of Relativity, “the necessity of change in order to our being conscious,” which he called “the groundwork of Thought, Intellect, or Knowledge, as well as of Feeling. We know heat only in the transition from cold, and vice versâ; up and down, long and short, red and not red – all are so many transitions, or changes of impression; and without transition we have no knowledge” (Bain, Mind and Body 81). He makes the strong claim that knowledge, in effect, equates with differ- ence:

Our knowledge begins, as it were, with difference; we do not know any one thing of itself, but only the difference between it and another thing; the pre- sent sensation of heat is, in fact, a difference from the preceding cold. (81)

The idea that “all consciousness is of difference” had been stated by Mill, crediting it to Hamilton. Spencer (324-7) contains a further elabo- ration of the steps leading from simple difference to “consciousness” in the full sense. Bain adds, as his predecessors did not do, that this princi- ple applies to the sounds of language, and not just to concepts or ideas:

“Our discrimination of articulate sounds is co-extensive with the com- bined alphabets of all the languages known to us” (Bain, Mind and Body

84).

Bain treats memory as a physical phenomenon, with a description that prefigures the “connectionism” of Rumelhart et al.: currents of force passing through nervous circuits create “specific growths in the cell junctions” (Bain, Mind and Body 91). The stronger the original force,

50

John E. Joseph

the more vivid the impression left on the circuit, quite like the “weights” of connectionist analysis. As for the mental recollection of language, it “is a suppressed articu- lation, ready to burst into speech. When the thought of an action excites us very much, we can hardly avoid the actual repetition, so completely are all the nervous circuits repossessed with the original currents of force” (90). But most remembered states or ideas are not so vivid, but of a “comparative feebleness” that is “an exact counterpart of the di- minished force of the revived currents of the brain” (91), so suppressing our articulation of them is not difficult:

[W]hen I see a written word and, as a result of my education, pronounce it orally, the power lies in a series of definite groupings or connexions of nerve-currents in the nerve and centres of the eye, with currents in motor nerves proceeding to the chest, larynx and mouth; and these groupings or connexions are effected by definite growths at certain proper or convenient cell crossings. (91)

Bain (Senses and Intellect 334) had already articulated this idea of a silent interior “nervous” speech. It challenges what he calls the “old notion” which “supposes that the brain is a sort of receptacle of the impressions of sense, where they lie stored up in a chamber quite apart from the re- cipient apparatus, to be manifested again to the mind when occasion calls.” He contrasts this with “the modern theory of the brain,” which “suggests a totally different view”:

We have seen that the brain is only one part of the course of nervous ac- tion; that the completed circles take in the nerves and the extremities of the body; that nervous action consists of a current passing through these com- plete circles, or to and fro between the ganglia and the organs of sense and motion; and that short of a completed course no nervous action exists. The idea of a cerebral closet is quite incompatible with the real manner of the working of nerve. Seeing then that a sensation in the first instance diffuses nerve currents through the interior of the brain outwards to the organs of expression and movement, the persistence of that sensation after the out- ward exciting cause is withdrawn, can only be a continuance of the same diffusive currents, perhaps less intense, but not otherwise different. (332)

The “cerebral closet” is the back ventricle of mediaeval cell theory, seat of the virtus memorialis. It is an uncharacteristically biting metaphor from Bain, whose alternative to it is essentially that offered by the connec- tionism that posed a powerful challenge to the Chomskyan mental closet in the 1980s.

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51

After completing his doctorate at Leipzig in 1881, Saussure went to Paris with the intention of doing a second one. Early in his time there, Victor Egger (1848-1909) published his own doctoral thesis as a book entitled La parole intérieure: Essai de psychologie descriptive (Inner Speech: Es- say in Descriptive Psychology). Saussure’s notes on his reading of this book allow us to trace his reaction to it and to infer its impact on his subsequent thinking (see Joseph, Saussure 288-91). Egger begins his book by asserting that

At every moment, the mind is speaking its thought internally.

[. .

.T]he se-

ries of inner words forms an almost continual series, in parallel with other series of psychic facts; it thus constitutes a considerable part of our con-

sciousness. (Egger 1) 22

Egger looked back mostly to French sources from the start of the cen- tury, following the Vicomte de Bonald (1754-1840) particularly closely, while blaming Maine de Biran (1766-1824) for a mistake that Bain re- peated, and then transmitted to the younger generation of French psy- chologists: “much too great importance is attributed to muscular movement, which is only a means, and which, as such, is neglected by the attention, whereas all the mental effort bears upon the sound, which is the goal of the movement and the essential element of speech” (Egger 41). 23 Egger downplays the role of inner speech in Bain:

in one of the rare passages he [Bain] devotes to it, inner speech becomes a muscular-tactile image. This latter idea, unfortunately, has caught on; for there is today, among psychologists, a school of touch or, more precisely, a school of muscle, which leads all the operations of the mind back willy-nilly to

the active touch and the muscular sense.

[. .

.] Taine is among those who

have accepted Bain’s error without discussion, and he too accords only a

brief mention to inner speech. (Egger 59) 24

  • 22 “A tout instant, l’âme parle intérieurement sa pensée. […L]a série des mots intérieurs forme une succession presque continue, parallele à la succession des autres faits psychiques; à elle seule, elle retient donc une partie considérable de la conscience de chacun de nous.”

  • 23 “une importance beaucoup trop grande est attribuée au mouvement musculaire, qui n’est qu’un moyen, et qui, comme tel, est négligé par l’attention […], tandis que tout l’effort mental se porte sur le son, qui est le but du mouvement et l’élément essentiel de la parole.”

  • 24 “dans un des rares passages qu’il lui consacre, la parole intérieure devient une image musculaire-tactile. Cette dernière idée, malheureusement, a fait fortune: car il y a au- jourd’hui, parmi les psychologues, une école du toucher ou, pour mieux dire, une école du muscle, qui ramène de gré ou de force toutes les opérations de l’âme au toucher actif et au

52

John E. Joseph

But Egger fails to consider the reasons behind Bain’s nervous-muscular (not “tactile”) location of inner speech: the fact that the alternative loca- tion is a “closet” in the brain in which is stored the “memory” of per- ceptions and productions, a memory that is a reflection transferred from the original mode of perception and production to something of an en- tirely different nature. Egger speaks of memory – particular souvenirs and the general capacity of mémoire – and above all of images, as in the preced- ing quote. Further on, Egger makes it clearer that he does believe in an “image of buccal movement” that plays an essential role in producing outer speech, but none in inner speech, the essence of which is the sound im- age alone:

Inner speech is a simple image, a purely sonorous image; in the same way, the outer speech of another heard by us is a simple sensation, purely sono- rous; but it is otherwise with our own speech, perceived by our ear at the same time as it is produced by our vocal organs; this time it is a double sen- sation, simultaneously sonorous and tactile, or, more precisely, a couple of

sensations. (Egger 75-6) 25

Egger’s view can be schematized thus:

inner speech

=

sound image

speaker

experiences tactile sensation (in production) plus

outer speech

outer speech
 
outer speech

hearer

experiences sound sensation (in perception)

experiences sound sensation (in perception)

Presumably the speaker of outer speech is often experiencing inner speech at the same time, in which case another arrow should extend from plus upward to sound image. But Egger does not mention this; his aim at this point is to widen the gap between inner and outer speech, and to associate Bain’s conception with the outer. As Egger goes on to specify where he differs from Bain, he acknowledges that an image of

sens musculaire.

[. .

.] M. Taine est de ceux qui ont accepté sans discussion l’erreur de

Bain, et lui aussi n’accorde à la parole intérieure qu’une courte mention.”

  • 25 “La parole intérieure est une image simple, une image purement sonore; de même, la parole extérieure d’autrui entendue par nous est une sensation simple, purement sonore; mais il en est autrement de notre propre parole, perçue par notre oreille en même temps qu’elle est produite par nos organes vocaux; celle-ci est une sensation double, à la fois sonore et tactile, ou, pour mieux dire, un couple de sensations.”

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53

the movement of the vocal organs may be present during inner speech – in fact the organs may actually move in a silent “sketch” – but he insists that this does not have the importance Bain accords to it:

According to Bain and his school, on the contrary, the image of the buccal movement, or even an actual sketch of a laryngeal-buccal movement, always accompanies inner speech; moreover, if we take Bain literally, the phe- nomenon of inner speech would be essentially an interrupted movement or

the simple image of this movement.

[. .

.] We know that, according to Bain,

tactile-muscular sensation or its image is a necessary element of all intellec- tual facts; we fear that the systematic spirit has not led him, on the point we

are dealing with, to any more rigorous observation. (Egger 76-7) 26

The question remains of where inner speech takes place. Bain posited a stark choice between nervous-organic association and a mental “closet,” while skewing the pitch by implying that only the former accords with scientific findings. Egger’s response is one that he is not the first nor will be the last to give: that the “where” question does not apply to in- ner speech, because it assumes a spatiality and extension that belong only to what is external. “Exteriority is the reason for spatiality” (Egger 98). 27 When speech is exteriorized, it has an extension, hence a location, outside the speaker. Inner speech though is only “localized in a vague

and indeterminate way in the head

[. .

.]. But this is not what were just

calling localization, when we were speaking about outer speech; inner speech is not the object of a special localization in a precise place, that is to

say a localization in the proper and ordinary sense of the word” (102). 28

  • 26 “D’après Bain et son école, au contraire, l’image du mouvement buccal, ou même une ébauche de mouvement laryngo-buccal réel, accompagnerait toujours la parole

intérieure; bien plus, à prendre à la lettre les expressions de Bain, le phénomène de la parole intérieure serait essentiellement un mouvement interrompu ou la simple image de

ce mouvement.

[. .

.] On sait que, suivant Bain, la sensation tactile-musculaire ou son

image est un élément nécessaire de tous les faits intellectuels; nous craignons que l’esprit de système ne l’ait entraîné, sur le point qui nous occupe, à une observation peu ri- goureuse.”

  • 27 “c’est l’extériorité qui est la raison de la spatialité.”

  • 28 “est localisée d’une façon vague et indéterminée dans la tête

[. .

.]. Mais ce n’est pas là

ce que nous appelions tout à l’heure localisation, quand nous parlions de la parole extérieure; la parole intérieure n’est pas l’objet d’une localisation spéciale dans un lieu précis, c’est-à-dire d’une localisation, au sens propre et ordinaire du mot.”

54

John E. Joseph

4. Trésor, casier, magasin

The three trésors of the CLG come from the third, second and first courses in general linguistics respectively. The last of them (CLG 233, 2 227), from the first course, is a passing reference to how the process of linguistic analogy requires “an unconscious comparison of materials de- posited in the trésor of the langue.” The most complete set of notes from the third course, those by Émile Constantin, were not available to Bally and Sechehaye when they were compiling the CLG. Corresponding to the passage from CLG 2 30, Constantin wrote: “One can say that the object to be studied is the trésor deposited in each of our brains, this trésor, without doubt, if taken from each individual, will nowhere be perfectly complete” (Saussure and Constantin 88; Saussure, Troisième cours 7). 29 This is what Harris trans- lates as “hoard,” which suggests a reading of trésor as contents rather than container. The passage that appears at CLG 2 171 is based mainly on the notes from the second course by Albert Riedlinger, the only one of the stu- dents whose collaboration is acknowledged on the title page of the CLG. Riedlinger recorded Saussure as referring to

the inner trésor that is equivalent to the closet [casier] of memory

[. .

.]; there

we have what can be called the storehouse [magasin]. It is in this trésor that is arranged everything that can enter into activity in the second location. And the second location is discourse, the chain of parole. (CLG/E [= Critical ed.

of CLG by Engler] 281, II R 89 1998 ; Saussure, Deuxième cours 52). 30

The casier metaphor also makes an appearance in the third course: “In effect, we cannot explore the closets [casiers] existing inside our brains [We are] obliged to use an external means, supplied by parole” (Saussure and Constantin 224-5; Saussure, Troisième cours 80). 31 The metaphor may

  • 29 “On peut dire que l’objet à étudier, c’est le trésor déposé dans notre cerveau à chacun, ce trésor, sans doute, si on le prend dans chaque individu, ne sera nulle part parfaitement complet.” Komatsu (Saussure, Troisième cours 7) has de for the second dans. The other students’ notes for this passage are similar, but more fragmented.

  • 30 “le trésor intérieur qui équivaut aux casiers de la mémoire; c’est là ce qu’on peut

appeler le magasin

[. .

.]. C’est dans ce trésor qu’est rangé tout ce qui peut entrer en ac-

tivité dans le second lieu. Et le second lieu, c’est le discours, c’est la chaîne de la parole.”

  • 31 “En effet, les casiers existant à l’intérieur de notre cerveau, nous ne pouvons les ex- plorer. [Nous sommes] obligés d’employer un moyen extérieur, donné dans la parole.” For an examination of the terms trésor, casier etc. in the context of the langue/parole dis- tinction, see Béguelin.

The Cerebral Closet

55

have been chosen casually by Saussure, but it had a resonance with things he had read and that were in the casiers of his own memory. De Palo has noted Bréal’s (555) comparison of intelligence to a casier in which ideas are arranged in order, and rightly points out that these metaphors were in regular use by psychologists of the late 19th century. Bourdieu (23) has also made a link between the use of trésor by Saussure and by Auguste Comte (1798-1857), who Bourdieu says “offers an ex- emplary expression of the illusion of linguistic communism that haunts the whole of linguistic theory.” 32 What has not been remarked upon previously is the central role this particular concept had in Egger, which predates Bréal’s book and may have informed it, and which we know Saussure read carefully. It is also significant that Saussure uses the casier metaphor in conjunction with “associations,” given that the immediate association that would call up for any French psychologist of the time would be the name of Bain. Following the preceding quote from Riedlinger’s notes, he records Saus- sure as saying that

In this mass of elements which we have at our disposal virtually but effec- tively, in this trésor, we make associations: each element makes us think of the other: all that is similar and dissimilar in some way presents itself around each word, otherwise the mechanism of the langue would be impossible.

(CLG/E 281, II R 90-1 2038 ; Saussure, Deuxième cours 52). 33

It is true that 26 years would pass between Saussure’s reading of Egger and the start of his lectures on general linguistics. In the interim how- ever there had appeared Victor Henry’s (1850-1907) Antinomies linguis- tiques (Linguistic antinomies; see Joseph, “‘Undoubtedly a powerful in- fluence’”). Saussure had known Henry since the start of the 1880s, when they both regularly attended meetings of the Société de linguistique de Paris, and Henry sent him an inscribed copy of his 1896 book, in which Egger figures strongly. In 1905, Henri Odier (1873-1938) published his doctoral thesis, which included the first account of Saussure’s theory of

  • 32 “offre une expression exemplaire de l’illusion du communisme linguistique qui hante toute la théorie linguistique.” Bourdieu bases this judgement on a citation from Comte (1929 [1852]: 254).

  • 33 “Dans cette masse d’éléments dont nous disposons virtuellement mais effectivement, dans ce trésor, nous faisons des associations: chaque élément nous fait penser à l’autre:

tout ce qui est semblable et dissemblable en quelque sorte se présente autour de chaque mot, autrement le mécanisme de la langue serait impossible.” Here again the other stu- dents’ notes are similar in content.

56

John E. Joseph

the linguistic sign (see Joseph, “Centenary”). 34 Odier’s book too was in Saussure’s library, and his copy of it contains underlining and notes showing that he read it carefully. The works specifically on language that Odier relies on most heavily are Egger and Henry. Yet Odier makes use of the concept of valeur in a way that surprisingly recalls Bain:

The word has a common monetary exchange value. The effigy on it does not vary, but its intrinsic quality, its precise weight, its alloy varies. The par- ticular value of the word, beyond the influence of its meaning, its form and its sonority resides in the mechanism of elocution itself. The muscular movements which are produced involuntarily in the speech organs, when we hear a word, contribute to the timbre of the emotion which the word

produces

[. .

.]. (Odier 34) 35

Odier makes it evident that he discussed language in depth with Saus- sure, but his interests tended toward psychology rather than linguistics, and he clearly departs from Saussure’s views at several points. So when

he writes that a word has an emotional value that “resides in the

[. .

.]

muscular movements which are produced involuntarily in the speech organs, when we hear a word,” we cannot assume that Saussure agreed. Still, Charles Bally’s (1865-1947) book on la stylistique, defined as the study, not of style (as in later stylistics), but of “affective” language along the lines of what Odier is discussing here, bears a dedication to Saussure, who maintained that this should be included within the con- cerns of linguistics (see Joseph, Saussure 612-13).

  • 34 Odier was the youngest son of one of Geneva’s top banking families, though he him- self had no desire to go into the business, unlike his elder brothers, who had been friends of Saussure’s since boyhood. Odier’s grandson, the University of Toronto phi- losopher Ronald de Sousa, has told me that his grandfather was however the only one in the family to foresee the Crash of 1929, but was talked out of cashing in his stocks by his supposedly more economically astute brothers.

  • 35 “Le mot a une valeur monétaire d’échange commun. Son effigie ne varie pas, mais sa qualité intrinsèque, son millième, son alliage varie. La valeur particulière du mot, outre

l’influence du sens, de la forme, de la sonorité réside dans le mécanisme même de l’élocution. Les mouvements musculaires qui se produisent involontairement dans les organes de la parole, lorsque nous entendons un mot, contribuent au timbre de

l’émotion que produit le mot

[. .

.].”

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57

5. Rereading valeur and trésor

Saussure’s metaphors of valeur and trésor look less commonplace and off- hand when read in the light of Dameth’s economic views, and Bain’s version of associationism together with Egger’s rejection of it. Saus- sure’s later remarks about political economy resonate closely enough with Dameth that either Saussure learned it from him, or else – a possi- bility I would not rule out – Dameth was simply teaching the common economic view current in middle and upper class Geneva in the second half of the 19th century. Value in language is exchange value, which is to say that it is defined by what it is not; a value determinable only through comparison with elements surrounding it with which it might be substi- tuted. This is perfectly in line with Bain, and with Hamilton and Mill before him. The sum of the values, the system, constitutes a trésor in the contents sense. Where it is kept – the trésor in the container sense – is where Saus- sure departs from Bain, as Egger did, but not in the same direction. Saussure refers at various times to Paul Broca’s (1824-1880) paper of 1861 reporting his autopsy of a patient who had suffered damage to a specific part of his brain (now known as Broca’s area) resulting in a kind of aphasia in which speech production was impaired. Saussure was far from alone in taking this as proof that, contra Bain, there is indeed a “cerebral closet” in which knowledge of language is kept, despite the fact that subsequent research has suggested that such a view is a vast oversimplification – even though Broca’s identification of one particular area for one type of aphasia has held up, along with another such identi- fication made by Carl Wernicke (1848-1905) in 1874 (see Eling and Whitaker; Joseph, Language, Mind and Body). Recent years have seen a move away from attempts at localizing lan- guage functions in the brain, and toward rethinking how what we call the mind is “extended” throughout the body and beyond, at least to the blind person’s white cane, possibly even to your iPhone – and how my mind may be “distributed,” not just to my body but to yours. This is related to what Dameth was saying about Robinson Crusoe and the so- cial nature of value, and to Egger’s point about inner speech not having a location because it lacks extension. Perhaps it is also what Saussure was groping toward in his repeated insistences that a language is a “so- cial fact,” and was struggling to get across by saying that a language is a trésor deposited in the brain of each individual that is however actually complete only across the brains of all the individuals in a community. His retreat to what Bain rejected as a “cerebral closet” is ironic, given

58

John E. Joseph

how closely Bain anticipated Saussure’s contention that not only is the conceptual side of language a matter of pure difference, but the phonic side is as well. To judge from Dameth’s published lectures on political economy, if Saussure attended his course, as seems likely, he got a good education in the development of modern economics since the late 18th century. His reading of Egger at the start of the 1880s then gave him a solid ground- ing in the development of psychology over the same period. In both fields the key innovations had come from Britain – Adam Smith; the utilitarians Bentham, James Mill and John Stuart Mill; Ricardo; and for psychology, the tradition of Locke, which had its own branch in France, but where psychology was being re-Briticized under the influence of Bain. The modernity of economics was based on its becoming psy- chologized; the modernity of psychology was dependent in part on its becoming physicalized. They were, in this regard, moving in opposite directions: economics away from a theory of intrinsic value, to relocate the value of things in what people value, as realized through exchange; psychology away from a theory of intrinsic values, to relocate mind ul- timately in mechanical operations in the body, whether in the brain alone or in the whole “sensorimotor apparatus.” Linguistics, by contrast, was in a relatively stable state – to Saussure’s great frustration, because he could see that it rested on illogical premises and unsustainable assumptions. By the time of his lectures on general linguistics, his impending tragedy was that he had given up trying to write a book that would show this in a way that satisfied his self- imposed perfectionist demands. But he had a course to give, and his perfectionism was matched by his devotion to duty. He never dreamed that his colleagues and students would deal him the ultimate posthu- mous homage and betrayal that is the Cours de linguistique générale – a be- trayal not because of any minor aspects of his teaching they got wrong, but because they set it down in print at all.

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References

Bain, Alexander. The Senses and the Intellect. London: John W. Parker and Son, 1855. ―――. Mind and Body: The Theories of Their Relation. New York: D. C. Ap- pleton and Co., 1875. (Originally published 1872.) Bally, Charles. Traité de stylistique française. 2 vols. Heidelberg: Carl Winter,

1909.

Béguelin, Marie-José. “Linguistique de la langue et linguistique de la parole.” Du système linguistique aux actions langagières: Mélanges en l’honneur d’Alain Berrendonner. Ed. Gilles Corminboeuf and Marie-José Béguelin. Brussels: De Boeck-Duculot, 2011. 641-66. Bourdieu, Pierre. Ce que parler veut dire. Paris: Fayard, 1982. Bréal, Michel. “Comment les mots sont classés dans notre esprit.” Revue politique et littéraire: Revue des cours littéraires, 3a s., 8 (1884): 552-5. Broca, Paul. “Perte de la parole, ramollissement chronique de

destruction partielle du lobe antérieur gauche du cerveau.” Bulletin de la Société d’Anthropologie de Paris, (1861): 235-8. Busino, Giovanni and Sven Stelling-Michaud. Matériaux pour une histoire des sciences sociales à Genève: Lettres de Pareto, Pantaleoni, Einaudi, d’Adrien Naville et d’autres. Cahiers Vilfredo Pareto: Revue Européenne d’Histoire des Sciences Sociales, 6. Geneva: Droz, 1965.

Claparède, Alexandre. Course Notes, I: Cours de Gymnase, 2e année, V:

Cours de Philosophie, Mr le prof. Verchère, 1876. Bibliothèque de Genève, Département de Manuscrits, Cours univ. 578. Comte, Auguste. Système de politique positive, ou Traité de sociologie, instituant la religion de l’humanité, t. II e , contenant la Statique sociale ou le Traité abstrait de l’ordre humain. Paris: chez l’auteur, 1852. (5 e éd. Paris: Siège de la société positiviste, 1929.) Dameth, Henri. Introduction à l’étude de l’économie politique. Cours public professé à Lyon pendant l’hiver 1864-1865 sous les auspices de la Chambre de Commerce. Lyon: Méra; Paris: Guillaumin, 1865. (2nd ed. 1878.) David, Jean-Élie. Notes au crayon: Souvenirs d’un arpenteur genevois, 1855-

  • 1898. Ed. by Marianne and Pierre Enckell. Lausanne: Éditions d’En-

bas, 2004. De Palo, Marina. “Memoria e significato: Linguistica e psicologia in- torna a Saussure.” Cahiers Ferdinand de Saussure 54 (2001): 359-83. Egger, Victor. La parole intérieure: Essai de psychologie descriptive. Paris: Ger- mer Baillière, 1881.

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Eling, Paul and Harry Whitaker. “History of Aphasia: From Brain to Language.” Handbook of Clinical Neurology, vol. 95: History of Neurology, Ed. S. Finger, F. Boller and K. L. Tyler. Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2010.

571-82.

Gabelentz, Georg von der. Die Sprachwissenschaft: Ihre Aufgaben, Methoden und bisherigen Ergebnisse. Leipzig: Weigel, 1891. Hamilton, Sir William. Lectures on Metaphysics and Logic. Ed. Henry Longueville Mansel and John Veitch. 4 vols. Edinburgh and London:

Blackwood, 1859-60. Henry, Victor. Antinomies linguistiques. Paris: F. Alcan, 1896. Joseph, John E. “‘Undoubtedly a powerful influence’: Victor Henry’s Antinomies linguistiques (1896), with an annotated translation of the first chapter.” Language and Communication 16 (1996): 117-44. ―――. “The Centenary of the First Publication of Saussure’s Sign The- ory – Odier (1905).” Historiographia Linguistica 32/2-3 (2005): 309-24. ―――. “‘La teinte de tous les ciels’: Divergence et nuance dans la conception saussurienne du changement linguistique.” Cahiers Ferdi- nand de Saussure 64 (2010): 145-58. ―――. Saussure. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. ―――. “Language Pedagogy and Political-Cognitive Autonomy in Mid- 19th Century Geneva: The Latin Manuals of Louis Longchamp (1802-1874).” Historiographia Linguistica 39/2-3 (2012): 259-77. ―――. “Iconicity in Saussure’s Linguistic Work, and Why it Does Not Contradict the Arbitrariness of the Sign.” Historiographia Linguistica 42/1 (2015): 85-105. ―――. “Saussure’s Value(s).” Recherches sémiotiques/Canadian Journal of Semiotics, in press for 2016. ―――. Language, Mind and Body: A Conceptual History. Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 2016. Lemaître, Auguste. En glanant dans mes souvenirs (Croquis et anecdotes). Neuchâtel and Geneva: Éditions Forum, s. d. [1922]. Mill, John Stuart. An Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy, and of the Principal Philosophical Questions Discussed in his Writings. 3rd ed. London: Longmans, Green, Reader and Dyer, 1867. (1st ed. 1865.) Odier, Henri. Essai d’analyse psychologique du méchanisme du langage dans la compréhension. Inaugural-Dissertation der philosophischen Fakultät der Universität Bern zur Erlangung der Doktorwürde. Berne:

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Vol. 1: Foundations; Vol. 2: Psychological and Biological Models. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press, 1986. Saussure, Ferdinand de. Mémoire sur le système primitif des voyelles dans les langues indo-européennes. Leipzig: imprimé par B. G. Teubner, 1879. ―――. “Adjectifs indo-européens du type caecus ‘aveugle’.” Festschrift Vilhelm Thomsen zur Vollendung des siebzigsten Lebensjahres am 25. Januar 1912, dargebracht von Freunden und Schülern. Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz,

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74. English trans., Course in General Linguistics, by Wade Baskin, New York: Philosophical Library, 1959; another by Roy Harris, London:

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1993.

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Value of and in Learning Foreign Languages 1

Claire-A. Forel

We are going to play on the meanings of the word value to discuss why there is value learning foreign languages, which is not very difficult to grasp, but also why understanding the fact that languages are systems of “values,” a central Saussurean concept, can help overcoming some ob- stacles in learning foreign languages. We first shall look at two reasons why learning foreign languages is beneficial; we’ll then examine the in- novative concept of plurilingualism and show how this new competence broadens the perspectives of the language learner. We will then move to the concept of value as it is presented in Saussure’s Course in General Lin- guistics (first published a hundred years ago) as well as in the students’

notes the book is based on. 2 Finally we will see how it is used in raising learners’ awareness of how languages work and therefore why it helps acquiring new languages.

1. Value of learning foreign languages 1.1. Linguistic diversity as enrichment

The Council of Europe was founded in 1947 and its principal aim, as stated in the first article of its Statute, “is to achieve a greater unity be- tween its members for the purpose of safeguarding and realizing the ideals and principles which are their common heritage and facilitating

  • 1 Special thanks to Eva Waltermann for her careful reading of this article and her pre- cious advice.

  • 2 Saussure never wrote the book, his junior colleagues Ch. Bally et A. Sechehaye used the notes taken by the students who sat in the three courses given on the subject, and turned them into a book.

Economies of English. SPELL: Swiss Papers in English Language and Literature 33. Ed. Martin Leer and Genoveva Puskás. Tübingen: Narr, 2016. 63-74.

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their economic and social progress.” Of course one of the most salient aspects of this common heritage is the extraordinary variety of its lan- guages. However, this diversity could also be seen as an obstacle which must then be overcome by education and notably linguistic education, as the Council of Europe goes on by saying: “the rich heritage of diverse languages and cultures in Europe is a valuable common resource to be protected and developed, and that a major educational effort is needed to convert that diversity from a barrier to communication into a source of mutual enrichment and understanding” (Recommendation R (82) 18 of the Committee of Ministers of the Council of Europe, emphasis mine). The diversity mentioned by the Council of Europe however contrib- utes to more than just unity. It is seen by the Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure as the first step towards an awareness of what language is. “It is contact with foreign speakers which alerts people’s minds to the exis- tence of languages as such.” 3 However this perception is to be placed in a larger context:

Let us note that primitive peoples are disposed to recognize this diversity as a fact, and their conception is not without interest: for one thing, it is what distinguishes them most sharply from others, from their neighbours. This feature of their language, which they cannot help but notice, becomes one of the features they recognize as differentiating them from neighbouring people. And how do they conceive of this? As a different custom, compa- rable to different customs in clothing, hair styles, weaponry: and this is quite right. (Saussure, Troisième cours 11a-12a)

The starting point from which to understand what the concept of lan- guage is appears then to be the same both for the layman and for the linguist:

As far as linguistics is concerned, the diversity of languages is indeed the fundamental act. There was no linguistics until attention focused on this di- versity, which gradually led to comparison and step by step towards the general idea of linguistics. (Saussure, Troisième cours 11a-12a)

Hence the linguistic education that will help overcome the obstacle pre- sented by the great diversity of languages in Europe can be understood not only as learning foreign languages but also, while doing so, learning about what language is. Offering language learners some insights into the nature

3 However, translating Saussure’s original la langue by “languages” as Harris does in this edition of Constantin’s notebooks is rather unfortunate, because what Saussure meant was the abstraction, the linguistic phenomenon, rather than the multiplicity of languages.

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in this specific tool of communication is what the language awareness approach is about and we will discuss it presently. But before, rather than concentrating only on the philosophical or educational value of language learning, one may also wish to consider its economic benefits.

1.2 The economic value of foreign language learning

The language economist F. Grin explains that the value of learning lan- guages can be seen from four different perspectives:

The benefits [of language learning] may be market related, such as higher earnings, access to more desirable jobs, etc.; other benefits are of the non- market kind, such as direct access, thanks to language competence, to other

cultures and people carrying them.

[. .

.] whether of the market or of the

non-market kind, the benefits and costs of education,

[. .

.] may be evalu-

ated at the private or social level. The private level reflects the conditions con- fronting the typical or average person, whereas the social level concerns benefits and cost for society as a whole. (Grin 85-86)

A striking example of market value can be found in a study produced a number of years ago but which is both iconic and representative of how knowing languages can impact earnings. Comparing the relative “market value” of language knowledge in Switzerland, Grin showed that know- ing French meant a potential increase in salary of 14.07 percent for Swiss German speakers, whereas being able to speak German meant 13.82 percent more wages for French speaking Swiss, thereby pointing at the very concrete “value” of language learning. Among the aims and objectives of Council of Europe language pol- icy as they are presented in the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (referred to as CEFR below) we do find these various market and non-market values although they are not necessarily as neatly sepa- rated. For example, “to equip all Europeans for the challenges of inten- sified international mobility and closer cooperation not only in educa- tion, culture and science but also in trade and industry” can be read as yielding both non-market and market, as well as social and individual values. “To promote mutual understanding and tolerance, respect for identities and cultural diversity through more effective international communication” implies that great care is taken “to avert the dangers that might result from the marginalization of those lacking the skills necessary to communicate in an interactive Europe.” Individuals who would not feel themselves to be members of a multilingual community

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become a social threat as “xenophobia and ultra-nationalist backlashes [constitute] a primary obstacle to European mobility and integration,

and

[. .

.] a major threat to European stability and to the healthy func-

tioning of democracy” (CEFR 3-4). Foreign language learning is thus seen as not only the means to get a good job, but also as an element of citizens’ identity insofar as it allows them to feel they belong to a larger

community than their own country, Europe, whose cultural wealth they are encouraged to enjoy. It is therefore clear that the value and benefits of language learning are manifold. Although one could argue that these benefits have been recognized ever since languages have been taught, a European approach to the matter is fairly recent.

2. Value of plurilingualism 2.1 The Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (CEFR)

In the period from 1989 to 1996, the Council of Europe put forward a project called “Language Learning for European Citizenship” and one of its key elements was the development of an instrument which would be a common framework of reference for all member states for the learning, teaching and assessment of foreign language learning. It is known today as CEFR. It describes “all the major aspects of language use and competence” (CEFR 43) and is an extraordinary overview on what knowing a language implies. It brought forward the concept of plurilingualism:

Plurilingualism differs from multilingualism, which is the knowledge of a number of languages, or the co-existence of different languages in a given society. Multilingualism may be attained by simply diversifying the lan- guages on offer in a particular school or educational system, or by encour- aging pupils to learn more than one foreign language, or reducing the dominant position of English in international communication. (CEFR 4)

In fact, the authors of the CEFR postulated a language competence that did not add up the various languages learnt but rather used previous experience in learning one language for the acquisition of another and so worth building up a plurilingual competence:

The fact that as an individual person’s experience of language in its cultural contexts expands, from the language of the home to that of society at large and then to the languages of other peoples (whether learnt at school or col-

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lege, or by direct experience), he or she does not keep these languages and cultures in strictly separated mental compartments, but rather builds up a communicative competence to which all knowledge and experience of lan- guage contributes and in which languages interrelate and interact. (CEFR 4)

In a way one could say that this competence aims at turning language learners into lay linguists, which seems very much in accordance with the programme Saussure sets for professional linguists at the beginning