Schools Of: Thought

SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT
SOCIOLOGY OF THE SCIENCES

MONOGRAPHS
Editorial Board:
G. B6hme, Technische Hochschule, Darmstadt

N. Elias, Universitiit Bielefeld
Y. Ezrahi, The Hebrew University of lerusalemcc
L. Graham, Massachusetts Institute of Technology
T. Lenoir, University of Pennsylvania
E. Mendelsohn, Harvard University
H. Nowotny, European Centre for Social Welfare Training & Research, Vienna
Claire Salomon-Bayet, University of Lille
R. Schwartz-Cowan, State University of New York, Stony Brook
T. Schinn, Centre National de la Recherche Scientijique, Paris
P. Weingart, Universitiit Bielefeld
R. Whitley, Manchester Business School, University of Manchester
Managing Editor: R. D. Whitley
1987
OLGA AMSTERDAMSKA
Department of Science Dynamics, University of Amsterdam
SCHOOLS OF
THOUGHT
The Development of Linguistics from Bopp to Saussure
A MEMBER OF THE KLUWER "

.....
D. REIDEL PUBLISHING COMPANY
ACADEMIC PUBLISHERS GROUP
DORDRECHT I BOSTON I LANCASTER I TOKYO

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Amsterdamska, Olga, 1953-

Schools of thought.
Sociology of the sciences monographs)

Bibliography: p.
Includes index.
I. Linguistics - History - 19th century.
2. Linguistics - History - 20th century. I. Title. II. Series.
P73.A47 1987 410:9 87-4382
ISBN-13: 978-94-010-8175-7 e-ISBN-13: 978-94-009-3759-8
DOl: 1O.l007/978-94-009-3759-8
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
PREFACE Vll
CHAPTER I: SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT:

SOME THEORETICAL OBSERVATIONS
Toward a Definition of Schools of Thought 4
The Cognitive Divergence of Schools of Thought 9
1. Philosophical Divergence 10
2. Theoretical Divergence 12
3. Substantive and Methodological Divergence 13
The Implications of the System of Cognitive Divergence 13
Social Divergence 17
Schools vs. Disciplines: Autonomy and Institutionalization 18
Schools and the Legitimation of Scientific Results 19
Schools in Academic Science 22
The Dual Legitimation System 24
Cognitive Consequences of the Dual Legitimation System 26
Opportunities for Divergence: Center and Periphery 27
Opportunities for Divergence: The Leader's Status 28
Schools of Thought in Linguistics 29
CHAPTER II: THE IDEA SYSTEM OF THE EARLY

COMPARATIVE GRAMMARIANS 32
Early Comparative Grammarians: Philosophical and
Theoretical Beliefs 34
The Schleicherian Synthesis: To Save the Phenomena 44
Linguistic Methodology Before 1870 50
CHAPTER III: LINGUISTICS AT THE GERMAN

UNIVERSITY 63
The Idea of Higher Education and the Growth of Linguistics 64
The Organization of Teaching and Research 72
Linguistics and Philology: Modes of Institutionalization 79
VI Table of Contents
CHAPTER IV: THE NEOGRAMMARIAN DOCTRINE 90

The Neogrammarian Inheritance: Linguistic Methodology 92
A Method in Search of a Theory 101
CHAPTER V: THE NEOGRAMMARIAN REVOLUTION

FROM ABOVE 121
The Problem 123
A School of Thought as a Bid for Scientific Authority 126
The Institutional Setting 129
The Neogrammarian "Revolution from Above" 134
Cognitive Repercussions of Institutional Changes 137
CHAPTER VI: THE IDEALIST REACTION 144

Causality and Explanation in Linguistics: the Denial of
Science 147
Language as Art and the Idea of Linguistic Study 156
The Denial of Linguistics: Neo-Idealists and the Crisis
of Learning 164
CHAPTER VII: SAUSSURE'S REVOLUTION FROM

WITHIN 176
The Road to Synchrony: Overdetermination and Its Obstacles 180
1. Uniformitarianism 181
2. Theory of Analogy 184
3. Alternations as Synchronic Phenomena 190
The Construction of a Linguistic Fact 199
Structuralism: Language as an Autonomous Object 217
CHAPTER VIII: SCHOOLS ON THE PERIPHERY 234

Saussure as a Marginal Man? 238
Linguistics on the Periphery 240
CHAPTER IX: CONCLUSIONS 252

NOTES AND REFERENCES 273
BIBLIOGRAPHY 301
INDEX 314
PREFACE
This book is based on the assumption that the development of science has
to be understood both as a social and as an intellectual process. The
division between internal and external history, between history of ideas and
sociology of science, has been harmful not only to our understanding of
scientific rationality but also to our understanding of the social processes
of scientific development. Just as philosophy of science must be informed
by its history, so also must sociology of science be both historically and
philosophically informed. Proceeding on this assumption, I examine in
detail the contents of linguistic ideas and the changes they underwent, as
well as the institutional processes of disciplinary development and school
formation. The development of linguistics in the nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries has provided me with a convenient locus for a study
of the processes of cognitive change and continuity in the context of modern
academically institutionalized science. This book examines first the idea
system and the institutionalization of historical and comparative linguistics
in the first half of the nineteenth century, and then focusses on the for-
mation and development of three schools of thought: the Neogrammarians,
the Neo-Idealists, and the Geneva School of Ferdinand de Saussure.
The "essential tension" between innovation and tradition in science,
between the demand for originality and the requirement of conformity, or
between discontinuity and continuity, constitutes one of the distinguishing
features of modern science; and the explanation of this tension poses a
challenge to sociological and philosophical theories of scientific develop-
ment. But while philosophies of science have explored and attempted to
justify these dualities, sociological theories of the development of scientific
knowledge seem either to answer the question of why there is continuity
or to describe the emergence of discontinuities. Those who emphasize the
role of interests, authority, and organization in science are often preoccu-
pied with the problem of continuity and tend to treat the norm of originality
as an unproblematic given; while those who emphasize the contingencies
of scientific work in the laboratory, the underdetermined character of
scientific knowledge, or the socially negotiated nature offacts and theories
emphasize change but tend to take for granted the role of tradition, the
VB
Vlll Preface
constraints on innovation, and the force of shared vocabularies, as-

sumptions, and practices. This lack of sociological attention to the inter-
play between continuity and discontinuity in scientific development is a
result of several features of the recent sociology of science. In part it refiects
the more general and, one might say, perennial problem of sociological
theorizing which tends to treat action as either determined by social struc-
ture (by values, norms, or interests) or as largely voluntaristic and con-
structed anew in every situation. In part it is the effect of a tendency to
exaggerate some of the conclusions of the recent philosophy of science: for
example, the recognition that theoretical knowledge is underdetermined by
empirical evidence has led some sociologists to discuss the closure of
scientific controversies purely in terms of the social processes of nego-
tiation in which only the interests, authority, or rhetorical competence of
scientists are allowed to playa role; while experiments, theories, or belief
systems enter such explanations only surreptitiously or unrefiexively. And
finally, it seems to me that sociologists of science have not dealt with the
"essential tension" both because they have focussed so many of their case
studies on relatively short periods of time and because they have inter-
preted the idea that purely internal history is insufficient in a manner to
suggest that attempts to reconstruct the intellectual history of scientific
fields are unnecessary.
Processes of cognitive change and patterns of continuity are the major
focus of attention in this examination of the history of linguistics. The
philosophical beliefs, theories, and methodologies of the successive linguis-
tic schools of thought are treated here as systems - though not necessarily
perfectly consistent and coherent or complete systems - of interconnected
ideas. Because they provide guidelines for future research and some criteria
for the evaluation of new contributions, that is, because they playa role in
structuring the cognitive development of the field and in the distribution of
material and symbolic resources, these idea systems embedded in the social
structure of science constrain the possibilities of radical discontinuous
innovations. Because they are ridden by tensions and contradictions, and
thus are essentially open and underdetermined, they allow for cognitive
change and the introduction of discontinuity; they accommodate disagree-
ments, confiicts and negotiations among scientists; and they leave room for
the adoption of various strategies by individual scientists or groups of
scientists working within the confines of specific institutional and social
contexts. Tracing the history of these idea systems, I examine not only
which ideas changed and why, but also which remained the same and why.
Preface ix
Thus, while I attempt to reconstruct a certain "logic" of development in the

history of linguistic ideas, I do not treat this logic as unchangeable or
predetermined: tensions and contradictions can affect (or be attributed to)
various elements of shared idea systems; the proposed resolutions can take
different forms; and while the intellectual and institutional contexts in
which scientists work impose their own constraints on the direction of
cognitive development, institutions and intellectual climates are them-
selves subject to change. As a result, the processes of change in science can
be regarded as both constrained by tradition and underdetermined by it,
and both change and continuity require symmetrical, social and cognitive
explanations.
This concern with the processes of change and continuity in science, and
with the interplay between cognitive and social contexts, imposed certain
conditions on the selection of a research object and on the organization of
this study. In order to examine the dynamics of cognitive development, to
allow for various kinds of change as well as for a certain degree of cognitive
continuity, it was necessary to study a relatively long historical period and
to follow the development of a field of study during a period of seemingly
cumulative growth as well as through a revolutionary transition. The focus
on schools of thought facilitated the reconstruction of relatively coherent
idea systems and allowed for comparisons among contemporaneous but
rival systems (for example, in terms of the degree of divergence which they
introduced). Most importantly, it offered the possibility of examining the
roles of the various institutional settings in which these idea systems were
first formulated and adopted. In order to examine continuities and discon-
tinuities in the development of linguistics it was necessary first to recons-
truct the idea systems of the successive schools of thought, comparing them
with their predecessors and considering the cognitive justifications of con-
tinuities and discontinuities; only then could I attempt to see how the
cognitive changes introduced by the schools and their retention of certain
beliefs were conditioned by such factors as the institutional settings in
which these idea systems were formulated and adopted, by the position of
linguistics within the university system, by changes affecting the univer-
sities, and by the status of school members in the reputational structure of
linguistics. The organization of the book reflects this strategy: following the
first introductory chapter on schools of thought and on the perspective
adopted here, the successive chapters focus first on the idea system of a
given school and then on the socio-institutional context in which it
emerged.
x Preface
Reflecting on the processes of cognitive and social change in linguistics,

I attempt to make certain generalizations about schools of thought, about
the processes of change and development in science, and about the role of
the various institutional and intellectual contexts in which such changes
take place, and yet I am fully aware that different fields of science and the
different institutional settings in which research takes place provide for a
wide variety of possible patterns of development. At the same time, the fact
that I examine a relatively long historical period and the development of
a discipline has imposed certain limitations: while focussing on the insti-
tutional settings in which linguistics was practiced, I have refrained from
tracing in detail the possible relations between the development of
linguistics and broader socio-political processes; in selecting the main lines
of the intellectual development of linguistics, I have passed over in silence
some less influential thinkers; and while discussing changes in methodolo-
gical, philosophical, and theoretical ideas, I have paid little attention to
day-to-day research practices and their locally contingent character, whose
relative invisibility in a field such as linguistics was additionally concealed
by the historical perspective I have adopted.
These subjects, as well as an investigation of the further development of
linguistics since the 1920s, deserve separate attention.
An earlier version of this work was prepared as a dissertation in sociol-

ogy at Columbia University. During its writing I benefited from the gen-
erous help of my advisors, Prof. Robert K. Merton and Prof. Harriet
Zuckerman. Prof. Robert Austerlitz has made a number of useful sug-
gestions. I am also grateful to Prof. Jerzy Szacki, Joanna Kurczewska,
Helena Flam, Jason Schechter, and my father, Stefan Amsterdamski, who
all read parts of earlier drafts and offered helpful comments. An earlier
version of Chapter V appeared as an article in the American Journal of
Sociology. The process of revision has been made easier thanks to the
comments of Richard D. Whitley and Rob P. Hagendijk, and to the support
of my colleagues in the Department of Science Dynamics at the University
of Amsterdam. I also owe thanks to the secretarial staff of the Department
for their help in the preparation of the manuscript. Finally, I would like to
thank my husband, Gene M. Moore, who not only "Englished" my English
but also listened patiently to all my problems with the linguists.
CHAPTER I
SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT:
SOME THEORETICAL OBSERVATIONS
A sociology of scientific knowledge based on the assumption that the social

context of science shapes the very substance of scientific ideas requires that
sociologists examine not only the social organization of scientific work but
also the nature of scientific beliefs and the ways in which these beliefs
change. It is not enough to argue that scientific theories and facts are
contingent constructs, to reject empiricism, to demonstrate the role of tacit
knowledge, or to adopt a more or less radical version of relativism. 1 If we
are to understand the social processes underlying scientific change, we
must first understand how various elements of scientific idea systems are
related to one another. What cognitive situations create opportunities for
change? How is this change constrained by accepted theories, methods or
philosophical beliefs? And finally, to what extent do continuities and dis-
continuities exist between successive frameworks of beliefs? Even those
who refuse to distinguish between the social and the cognitive sides of
science (on the unimpeachable grounds that everything cognitive is also
social) cannot disregard the fact that the very contingencies of research and
negotiations through which scientific innovations are proposed, accepted,
and used are meaningful only in the context of intellectual traditions and
shared frameworks of ideas. Recent laboratory studies which argue that
nothing that goes on in science should be taken for granted unless it has
been observed by a "naive" sociological observer, paradoxically take for
granted the most problematic aspect of science: they only rarely ask how
it is that research questions and results carry an intersubjective meaning
for researchers within a given field, or how and according to what criteria
individual knowledge claims, once they have been contingently negotiated
among scientists, are then integrated (or not) into a relatively coherent,
though changing, body of knowledge (which can then, for example, be
presented to students in a textbook). If sociology is to contribute to the
understanding of scientific change, it cannot ignore this wider cognitive
context in which scientists function and towards which their innovations
are also addressed. As a result, one of the tasks of sociological studies of
science must be the reconstruction of scientific idea systems (that is, of the
2 Chapter I
networks of shared beliefs which structure the formulation of research

problems, suggest methods of inquiry and investigation, and provide crite-
ria which are used to evaluate knowledge claims) and of the changes they
undergo.
Descriptions of idea systems and of their development have of course
been offered in sociological studies of science. Yet except for studies which
focus on the emergence of new specialties and disciplines (such as Mulkay's
branching model),2 virtually no attempt has been made to develop a
theoretical framework that would enable us to analyze the structure and
dynamics of change in scientific idea systems. The widespread adoption of
the vocabulary of paradigms, exemplars, and normal science does not
change this situation substantially, for we know little about the ways in
which paradigms and exemplars function in scientific practice, and there
seems to be no terminology available for comparisons of the processes of
change and innovation in various fields and at various stages of develop-
ment. Sociologists, having discovered that cognitive developments are
underdetermined by scientific idea systems, have tended as a result to
concentrate on processes of construction and negotiation, and have largely
disregarded the role of the established and shared cognitive context in such
negotiations.
There is a world of difference, however, between the claim that scientific
considerations alone (i.e., theories, methodologies, facts, etc.) are not suf-
ficient to explain the direction of scientific developments, and the implicit
assumption that it is possible to understand scientific development by
focusing on socially contingent processes of theory and fact construction
while treating the larger (shared and unquestioned) cognitive context as a
given that can be described naturalistically. 3 It is, after all, this larger
cognitive context which makes particular scientific problems meaningful,
defines the problematics of a field, and specifies some of the conditions
which a legitimate solution must meet.
Whitley in his studies makes the important point that although the norm
of originality governs the research of modern scientists, "the novelty cannot
be too great since contributions in a reputational community are assesed
in terms of their relevance to the dominant goals of the field. Knowledge
claims which do not fit in with established procedures and ways of inter-
preting these goals will not be seen as relevant and so will not lead to
improved reputations in that field.,,4
What does it mean, however, to say that "the novelty cannot be too
great"? Do social circumstances alone determine when a contribution is to
Schools oj Thought: Some Theoretical Observations 3
be rejected as "too original"? (Of course this is never the stated reason for
rejecting any contribution!) How constraining and inviolable are the "domi-
nant goals of the field" and the "established ways of interpreting these
goals"? Are goals the only constraining factors? More generally, what is the
meaning of the norm of originality under different cognitive and social
circumstances?
In order to be able to answer these and similar questions, it is necessary
to go beyond concrete descriptions of specific scientific ideas and their
individual transformations to develop a framework allowing us to dis-
tinguish among various types of cognitive change and to analyze the cogni-
tive processes involved in the introduction and acceptance of innovations.
Among the issues to be addressed by a sociology of scientific knowledge
is that of the relationship between the various elements of scientific idea
systems and their role in constraining or providing an opportunity for
change. Only on the basis of such an understanding of the processes of
scientific development can the role of negotiations over facts and theories
be studied together with that of the social and institutional contexts in
which these idea systems change. At least for heuristic purposes, cognitive
development has to be analyzed separately from the social context.
Studying the development of a discipline or specialty over an extended
period of time offers special advantages for analysis of the processes of
cognitive development. A long-term historical perspective makes it possi-
ble to examine changes occurring not only during the formative period of
the emergence and institutionalization of a field, but also those that take
place later, within a mature institutionalized discipline. The reconstruction
of successive idea systems allows us to examine continuities as well as
discontinuities, and thus to see change not as an isolated phenomenon but
in the context of the problems, opportunities, and constraints defined by
the prevailing idea systems and intellectual traditions. Tracing the develop-
ment of a field of knowledge over many years is, in this sense, a strategy
particularly well suited to analysis of the mechanisms of cognitive change.
If, however, an extended historical perspective is advantageous for the
study of cognitive development, it poses problems for the analysis of the
social and institutional contexts in which cognitive developments take
place. Given an extended perspective, it may be more difficult to localize
change or the adoption of innovations in specific groups of scientists, or
to trace the various negotiations and transactions among individual
scientists. At the same time, numerous sociological analyses suggest that
it is precisely such local institutional and social conditions, and not the
4 Chapter I
scientific community at large, which can best help to understand the

relationships between the social and cognitive aspects of science.
Gerald Geison argues that this problem of how to couple an analysis of
cognitive change with the study of its social context can be alleviated to a
considerable extent by focussing on relatively small groups of scientists
integrated into research schools - or into schools of thought, though this
is not exactly the same thing. 5 While it is impossible to study the develop-
ment of all scientific disciplines in all historical periods through such a
prism, it is possible to do so in the case of certain fields, such as, for
example, nineteenth and twentieth century linguistics. In other words, in
fields where it is possible to distinguish relatively small groups of scientists
integrated cognitively as well as socially, the analysis of successive and
coexisting schools of thought offers a particularly apt locus for investigating
the relationship between the social organization of science and the dynam-
ics of scientific change. On the one hand, our focus on schools of thought
allows for the analysis of relatively well-articulated and distinct idea sys-
tems in the context of the specific institutional and social conditions in
which members of such schools worked and presented their innovations;
while on the other hand, our long-term historical perspective allows for a
structured and comparative analysis of various kinds of cognitive change.
Toward a Definition of Schools of Thought
The term "schools of thought" has been applied casually to the most diverse
and apparently unrelated phenomena. Sometimes the term is used as a
means of classifying doctrines whose proponents appear to share little
apart from their commmon adherence to the idea system in question.
(Pitirim Sorokin uses the term "schools" in this manner.)6 On other oc-
casions the term has been used to denote a similarity of outlook vaguely
ascribed to scholars of the same nationality; as, for example, in Pierre
Duhem's study of the "English school of physics."7 Finally, schools have
been described as groups of scholars who not only share common views
but are also involved in social relationships. Thus, Geison defines research
schools as "small groups of mature scientists pursuing a relatively coherent
program of research side by side with advanced students in the same
institutional context and engaging in direct, continuous social and intellec-
tual interaction."s Similar definitions are either stated explicitly or adopted
Schools of Thought: Some Theoretical Observations 5
implicitly in studies oflaboratory research schools such as those of Morrell

and Friedman. 9
Geison's definition of research schools is designed with reference primar-
ily to the laboratory sciences, where the close geographical proximity of
school members is perhaps more important than in the social sciences and
humanities. His definition will need to be modified if we wish to include
schools of thought in all fields of scholarship and wish to consider them at
various points of their development. The requirement of "the same social
context" will have to be modified so as to include those schools which
maintain their social integration without being bound to a single research
organization. It is here, perhaps, that the distinction between research
schools and schools of thought needs to be drawn.
But if our task is to study processes of change in science, we must first
ask what constitutes a "relatively coherent programme of research," and
how does such a programme relate to the programmes of other schools or
the specialty as a whole?
There are a few sociological attempts to describe the nature of the
cognitive integration within a school of thought. David Krantz, for ex-
ample, sees schools as groups which require "uncritical acceptance by a
group of disciples of the leader's idea system." 10 Diana Crane also differen-
tiates schools from other groups of scientists by emphasizing their closed
character: schools are committed to a particular point of view and allow
for neither external nor internal criticism of their ideasY The descriptions
of cognitive integration proposed by Krantz and Crane will be useful only
if the closed character of the school's idea system is a feature that dis-
tinguishes it from the idea systems of other scientific groups. In other
words, Krantz and Crane assume that scientific knowledge is uncondition-
ally open to all forms of criticism. They regard the strict internal discipline
of a school of thought and the rejection of "external influence and valid-
ation of its work" as characteristics specific only to schools, and they
implictly contrast these characteristics with the absence of such limits on
criticism among larger groups of scientists. 12 This view of science is
propounded by Karl Popper, among others. According to Popper, "there
is nothing more rational than the method of critical discussion, which is the
method of science." 13 But if scientific methodology indeed relies on unim-
peded and incessant critical discussion, schools can only be anti-scientific
aberrations, dysfunctional for the normal process of scientific develop-
ment. Popper voices his disapproval of schools explicitly:
6 Chapter I
In all civilizations we find something like religious and cosmological teaching, and in many
societies we find schools. Now schools, especially primitive schools, all have, it appears, a
characteristic structure and function. Far from being places of critical discussion, they make
it their task to impart a definite doctrine and to preserve it, pure and unchanged. It is a task
of a school to hand on the tradition, the doctrine of its founder, its first master, to the next
generation, and to this end the most important thing is to keep this doctrine inviolate. A school
of this kind never admits a new idea. New ideas are heresies, and lead to schisms; should a
member of the school try to change the doctrine, then he is expelled as a heretic. 14
Though in a less explicit manner, the definitions proposed by Krantz and

Crane are equally normative: schools are defined as closed groups that
reject the scientific method; thus, their very existence is an impediment to
scientific progress.
Yet it may be misleading to posit such a strong either/or opposition
between a science relying on the rational method of critical discussion and
schools which contravene the rules of scientific methodology. T.S. Kuhn
cast doubt on the significance and efficacy of criticism in scientific develop-
ment when he introduced the notion of "normal science" conducted in close
conformity with the requirements of a current paradigm. IS Scientists work-
ing within the confines of a paradigm often disregard evidence undermining
the validity of key theoretical ideas. Using an autobiographical example,
Michael Polanyi describes the reception of his theory of adsorption in order
to demonstrate that "the powers of orthodoxy in science" might be not only
stronger than was assumed in the Popperian model but even, paradoxical-
ly, beneficial for the development of science. He concludes that the "scienti-
fic method is, and must be, disciplined by an orthodoxy which can permit
only a limited degree of dissent.,,16 Polanyi suggests that a complete open-
ness to criticism would result in a complete lack of progress, which does
not mean that there can be no critical discussion in science whatsoever, but
only that there are limits to how far it can usefully go, and to the number
of topics that can be taken up at any given time. Ideas which cannot be
criticized under one set of historical conditions might become subject to
critique under other circumstances. However, once we admit that certain
ideas in science are immune to criticism, we must find some other means
of describing the cognitive integration of schools of thought. The fact that
schools limit disagreement does not distinguish them from other groups,
and tells us nothing about their idea systems. (One might try to define
schools as those groups that brook no criticism whatsoever, but in this
situation the set of phenomena called schools would very likely be com-
pletely empty.) Diana Crane notes this problem (although she does not
solve it) when, in an effort to distinguish schools of thought from what she
calls "solidarity groups," she admits that "the distinction between schools
and solidarity groups is somewhat tenuous since all solidarity groups are
committed to a particular point of view to which their members are expect-
ed to conform." 17 It would still be possible to distinguish schools from other
groups of scientists if we could specify the criteria according to which
schools of thought systematically forbid criticism of certain ideas that are
routinely open to criticism in normal science. It seems to me, however, that
there are no such criteria for schools,just as there are no ahistorical criteria
in science allowing one to declare unconditionally and for all time which
ideas will be subject to criticism and which others will not. 18 Even the
methodology and the criteria of rationality, which have seemed incontrov-
ertible over long historical periods, might become subject to criticism under
a different set of circumstances, just as other limits on criticism are im-
posed.
Moreover, any proposed definition of schools of thought must not pre-
judge the question of whether schools benefit the development of science
or hinder its progress. Assumptions contrasting the open nature of science
with the closed character of schools, or the inalterable logic of scientific
discovery based on ahistorical criteria of rationality with the supposed
rejection of such criteria by schools, results in a tacitly evaluative attitude
toward schools on the grounds that schools are inherently irrelevant to the
study of "normal" scientific development. The very existence of schools in
some disciplines, especially in the social sciences, is then taken as yet
another proof of their underdevelopment and backwardness.
All these problems might be avoided if, instead of trying to decribe the
intellectual cohesion of schools by focusing on the supposed peculiarities
of their idea systems, we were to examine the relationship of a school's
research programme to the intellectual context in which the school
functions.
Various writers have noted the oppositional character of schools of
thought and mentioned the constitutive role of this opposition. For ex-
ample, Edna Heidbredder writes offunctionalism in psychology that it "did
make its appearance as a psychology of protest. Its leaders did oppose the
school that was then the establishment in American psychology ... In op-
posing structuralism, they (the functionalists) were not even trying to set
up a rival school, though for a time, in defending and maintaining their own
position, they had something of the character of a school thrust upon
them."19
8 Chapter I
The opposition of philosophical schools to the ideas of their contempo-

raries has often been described in similar terms:
In 1929, the members of the Vienna circle (Wiener Kreis, Verein Ernst Mach) published what
was clearly meant to be the first in a series of manifestos. Their tone was that of exasperated
outsiders, men who were fed up with the "growth of metaphysical and theologizing tendencies"
in the philosophy of the German academic establishment. They criticized all the major schools
within that establishment in rather virulent terms. They announced that all hitherto so-called
philosophical problems were the product of semantic confusion and logical tautology.2°
The creation of schools of thought in the natural sciences has sometimes

also been accompanied by open expressions of opposition to other modes
of scientific inquiry. This was the case, for example, with the reductionist
physiologists in the 1840s:
Ludwig and the others met in Berlin in 1847, a year before the outbreak of revolution, and
there, it is related, cast a plan for a revolution in physiological aspirations and methodology ...
The enemy was the idea of an autonomous life dominating life force. Support for this doctrine
they settled, partly to maintain the force of their polemic, upon the nature philosophers of the
previous generation. The nature philosophers, they announced, were metaphysicians, not
responsible men of science. 2i
Proclamations of revolutionary intentions seem to be especially common

in artistic schools of thought, or in fields often associated with artistic
movements (such as literary criticism). The "revolutionary" manifestoes of
many literary groups (e.g., the French Surrealists or the Russian Futurists)
and their programmatic disdain for everything that went on before them
are almost de rigueur, in the sense in which Andre Malraux spoke of schools
of painting as "concerted movements of attack on moribund signifi-
cances.,,22 Similarly Victor Erlich has described the opposition of the
Russian Formalists to other schools of literary criticism:
Like most new schools of thought, Formalism was in large part a reaction against the
dominant intellectual trends. Like most Russian schools of thought it was a vehement reaction.
The young Formalist theoreticians repudiated with equal fervor academic eclecticism which
weighed heavily upon Russian literary theory, the message-mindedness of the "social critics,"
and the metaphysical bias of the Symbolists. 23
Not all schools of thought are "revolutionary" to the same extent as the
Russian Formalists or the German reductionist physiologists, but they all
do seem to share one characteristic that might help us understand their

cognitive integration: schools of thought develop idea systems which div-
erge from the systems prevalent in their relevant reference fields. Despite
the fact that the authors quoted above emphasized the cognitive aspects
of this opposition, this divergence is dual in character: it is cognitive insofar
as the idea system of the school diverges from the ideas hitherto accepted
in the relevant "reference field," and it is social insofar as it involves some
severance of social ties between members of the school and members of
its reference group(s). In the academic sciences, to which I limit my analysis
here, the "reference field" to which the school is opposed might initially be
homogeneous, in which case the new school is divergent from the discipline
or specialty of which it is a part; or the reference field may already be
divided, composed of other schools, in which case the new school will be
divergent from others already existing (although it might express its cogni-
tive divergence only with reference to the dominant intellectual trends in
such a divided discipline or specialty). The structure of the relevant refer-
ence field will be one of the factors influencing the nature of the school's
opposition and its chances for success. For the moment, however, I would
like to ignore this aspect and refer to the relevant reference field as the
(larger) field of which the school forms a part.
We may summarize this relationship between a school of thought and
the field of which is is a part by defining a school of thought as a group of
scholars or scientists united in their common divergence, both cognitive and
social,from other schools in their disCipline or specialty or from the discipline or
specialty as a whole. One aim of the present study will be to determine the
extent and character of this "double" divergence in the context of modern
academic science.
The Cognitive Divergence of Schools of Thought
Schools of thought have occasionally been compared with religious sects,

and although such comparisons have usually been based on the apparent
similarity between the tight internal social structures of schools and sects
(Popper, Crane, Weisz), it seems that it is rather the cognitive divergence
of schools from the larger field that makes these comparisons compelling.
H.R. Niebuhr contrasts the church with sects in the following terms: "the
church is always interested in the principle of continuity, whereas the sect
emphasizes discontinuity, whether between church and state, between the
10 Chapter I
converted and the unconverted, or between present and future" (not to

mention the discontinuity between the sect's interpretation of the Scrip-
tures and those of the non-members).24
It would be unwise to carry this comparison too far and thereby exagger-
ate the divergence between the idea system of a school and that of its
reference field. Not all schools, and certainly not all schools operating
within the structure of institutionalized academic science, fit the de-
scription of "collective schisms like nascent religions or. .. heresies."25
Divergence may affect those issues deemed important by the members of
a school, but the "break with the past" need not be - indeed scarcely could
be - total. Thus, in order to describe the relationship between a school of
thought and the field of which it is a part, it is necessary to consider
continuities as well as discontinuities.
The idea system of a school of thought may diverge from that of its
reference field in a variety of respects. Different types of ideas, beliefs, and
principles either provoke cognitive opposition or serve to maintain a degree
of continuity between contrasting idea systems. In order to analyze the
sources and the character of cognitive continuities and discontinuities, it
is therefore necessary to consider what types of ideas compose different
idea systems, and how the interaction of these ideas can affect the for-
mation of a school of thought.
In his essay On the Peculiarities ofthe Social Sciences, in a chapter entitled
"Positions and Schools," Stanislaw Ossowski attempts to identify various
types of cognitive divergence. 26 He distinguishes among the philosophical,
theoretical, and methodological components of idea systems, and consid-
ers the ways in which divergent views in each of these categories might
contribute to the creation of a school of thought.
1. Philosophical Divergence
The first type of divergence isolated by Ossowski refers to cases in which

the statements that separate the school from the rest of the field are, in his
words, "unverifiable" (in the Vienna Circle sense of this term):
The conditions most conducive to the creation of a school opposed to the integrative ten-
dencies of science will occur when the assumptions basic to the position of the school are not
developed to the extent of becoming verifiable, and when the communicability of these
assumptions depends primarily on the expressive functions, on the transmission of
standpoints, moods, associations, and directives .. . . When the basic assumptions cannot be
either verified or falsified in a logical manner, the membership of the school depends on
personal preferences, or on a private decision?7
The basic assumptions which Ossowski deems "unverifiable" have re-

ceived much attention in recent years. While Ossowski limits their role to
the humanities and the social sciences, many philosophers and historians
of science regard them as crucial for the natural sciences as well: Imre
Lakatos included them in what he called the "core" of scientific pro-
grammes; Kuhn describes them as "values"; Holton calls them "themata."
Despite the many and profound differences between these philosophers of
science, their analyses make it clear that it is insufficient to describe these
philosophical beliefs simply as "unverifiable" or "unfalsifiable." I would like
to modify Ossowski's position in the following way.
One kind of divergence among scientists occurs when their basic philoso-
phical assumptions are in conflict. These philosophical assumptions may
concern such questions as "what constitutes an adequate explanation?" or,
more generally, "what is scientific and what is not?" Divergence may also
involve such issues as the nature of the object under study (for example,
the nature of society, man, matter, life, language or the psyche); or such
questions as "what are the goals of scientific investigation, and how are
different kinds of scientific activity to be evaluated?" In other words, these
more or less broadly defined epistemological and ontological issues delimit
the field of scientific understanding and establish the epistemological status
of scientists. These philosophical underpinnings of scientific idea systems
often remain tacit, particularly when the entire field shares a common view
of these matters or when the very existence of philosophical assumptions
is taken as a sign of "bad science"; but they might need to be discussed
explicitly in the event a given school should voice its opposition in precisely
these terms.
Of course, not every philosophical divergence necessarily results in the
creation of a school of thought, nor for that matter in serious disagreements
in other areas. (Such disagreement might, for example, concern only the
interpretation of a particular finding and thus have a very limited rele-
vance). August Schleicher's revolution in linguistics offers an example of
a situation in which even broad philosophical divergence did not coincide
with divergence in other respects: although Schleicher rejected the major
philosphical assumptions of the early comparative grammarians in favor of
a modified Hegelianism, he managed to retain many of the theoretical ideas
and methodological rules of his predecessors.
12 Chapter I
2. Theoretical Divergence
According to Ossowski, a second condition for the formation of a school

of thought exists when, even if competing hypotheses can be verified or
falsified in ideal conditions, neither of these acts has in fact been accom-
plished, so that there exist two or more explanations of a given phenome-
non. Obviously the hypotheses or theories involved must be sufficiently
central to the field to warrant a split along these lines (for example, when
the issue under discussion plays a fundamental role in determining the
direction of future research).
Ideally, this kind of divergence occurs when the same set of philosphical
assumptions can provide a foundation for two different or even contradic-
tory theories. Two such theories may represent attempts to explain the
same set of phenomena using different conceptual models, different types
of evidence, or different formalisms; in all these instances, the divergence
might (but need not) involve certain philosophical or methodological diver-
gences as well. For instance, the Prague Linguistic Circle argued its distinc-
tivness from the Geneva School on the basis of divergences between their
respective theories of linguistic change. Although the two schools agreed
on the major issues of synchronic structural linguistics, the Geneva School
claimed that linguistic change was independent of structural conditions,
while the Prague linguists explained change in terms of the functional
readjustments of systems.
Cases in which contradictory theories have served as the basis for the
creation of schools of thought have often involved theories which, despite
their having empirical consequences that could be tested in an ideal si-
tuation, could not actually be tested in practice in such a way as to satisfy
the criteria of both parties. As we shall see later, the disagreement between
Franz Bopp and the Schlegels about the theory of inflections was of
precisely this kind: although their opposing theories were testable in prin-
ciple, in practice they could be neither confirmed nor falsified. It is of course
possible that theoretical disagreement would persist even if such tests were
to be performed, since it is always possible to claim that some criteria
required for a definitive test have not been met, and (as Collins shows)
arguments of this kind are always available. Furthermore, given the con-
ditions in which testing takes place, no single piece of knowledge can ever
be tested apart from all its accompaning "background knowledge"; the
conditions under which empirical testing takes place are always ambig-
uous. Thus, efforts can always be made not only to modify the theory in
question, but also to modify certain other elements of an idea system in

order to save the theory. In this manner a theoretical conflict can easily be
transformed into a philosophical or methodological one.
3. Substantive and Methodological Divergence
Finally, Ossowski identifies a third kind of divergence which could lead to

the creation of a school of thought. This might occur as the result of a
divergent choice of "problematics peculiar to certain groups within an
institutionally-defined discipline, the singular conceptual apparatus, the
mode of symbolisation, the particular methods of research, or the style of
presenting results."28 In this third category Ossowski places all schools
which differ either in their choice of a methodology appropriate to the study
of the phenomena under investigation, or in the particular problematics
which they regard as crucial for the development of the specialty or disci-
pline.
It seems useful to subdivide this category in order to distinguish schools
which stress the peculiarity and uniqueness of their method from others
which, so to speak, discover new areas of investigation. Let me call these,
respectively, "methodologically-oriented" and "substantively-oriented"
schools of thought. Obviously, a clear distinction between the two will be
hard to maintain in some cases, since a new problematics often entails a
new methodology and vice versa.
The substantively-oriented schools may develop into new specialties, as
in the case of Delbruck's phage group or Liebig's school of agricultural
chemistry in Giessen; or else they may strive to reorient the substantive
interests of an existing specialty. The emergence of substantively-oriented
schools of thought is very closely connected with the processes of speciali-
zation and division of labor in science.
Methodologically-oriented schools of thought can be defined as those
schools which differ in their techniques and tools, or those which develop
different formal procedures for the presentation and manipulation of data.
The Implications of the System of Cognitive Divergence
The methodological, philosophical, theoretical, and substantive beliefs that

go to make up an idea system are obviously interdependent. Given the need
14 Chapter I
for overall consistency and coherence, the individual elements of a scienti-

fic idea system can be said to be constrained, though not fully determined,
by other elements of the system. In other words, we might say that the
philosophical, theoretical, methodological, and substantive elements of an
idea system constrain each other insofar as they direct, limit, or circums-
cribe other systemic elements, yet without determining these other ele-
ments unequivocally or entailing them logically. Philosophical beliefs about
the nature of a given object of study, or about scientific standards, will
inevitably support certain kinds of theoretical explanations and eliminate
others as implausible, unscientific, irrelevant, or nonsensical. Similarly, the
choice of methodological tools might influence - but not determine unequi-
vocally - the substantive interests of a group of scientists (as in the case
of radio astronomy studied by Mulkay and Edge).29 Methodological ideas
might also favor a reformulation of the theoretical or conceptual apparatus
in a given field (for example, by allowing for quantification where none was
believed necessary, or by encouraging the transformation of an indicator
into an actual variable). Conversely, there also exist cases where a new
substantive interest has promoted the development of new methodological
practices (such as that of Galton and Pearson, whose interest in eugenics
contributed to the development of statistical methods 30); as well as si-
tuations where a theoretical innovation entails both methodological and
substantive adjustments (for example, when a theoretical explanation of a
given phenomenon indicates that a new entity should be discovered and
experimentally investigated). Philosophical assumptions themselves are
not immune to such cognitive constraints: methodological, theoretical or
substantive ideas might favor the adoption of particular epistemological
principles while excluding others from consideration; for example, a
theoretical or methodological innovation might lead to a tacit transfor-
mation of philosophical assumptions. Even if there are no crucial experi-
ments for metaphysical rules, their heuristic value is continuously being
tested in all scientific research.
The interdependence of the various components of an idea system is
never complete. A complex idea system with all its implications and conse-
quences - many of these unknown at any given time - can probably never
become perfectly integrated and internally consistent. It is generally
acknowledged that the discovery of new substantive information can some-
times elude or even contradict theoretical explanations, and such empirical
anomalies are regarded as a major impulse for change in science (by Kuhn
as well as Popper) and as occasions of theoretical and methodological
conflict. Similar tensions and contradictions can also be found among the
philosophical, theoretical, and methodological components of idea
systems. In other words, scientific idea systems can be regarded as open
structures of mutually constraining but not fully determined beliefs and
arguments; they are frequently characterized by tensions, logical or
explanatory gaps, inconsistencies, possible anomalies, or even logical con-
tradictions.
Our assumption - that a scientific idea system is a partially integrated
system of beliefs perpetually being threatened by logical or quasi-logical
contradictions - may suggest a framework for interpretation of the pro-
cesses of scientific change and development. If we assume that scientific
explanations or descriptions require consistency, then the discovery of
inconsistent or incompatible elements within an idea system should lead
to attempts to overcome these cognitive difficulties. (Consistency is a
minimal requirement, of course, but all other requirements might be seen
as incorporated into the system itself, just as a particular interpretation of
what consistency is taken to mean in a given case might well be incorporat-
ed into the given idea system.) To agree that consistency is desirable one
does not have to assume that there is only one way in which a given
cognitive problem can be solved, or even that the criteria of consistency or
compatibility among ideas remain always the same. In fact it is quite
possible that in certain situations, transformations in the very ideal of
consistency itself may lead to the discovery of tensions where none were
previously suspected. The discovery of cognitive problems and inconsis-
tencies might also be encouraged by reformulations and modifications of
accepted ideas, or by attempts to extend the implications of a given element
of an idea system. In addition, more general changes in the climate of
intellectual opinion, in prevailing views about the nature of science, reality,
or even morality, might affect the understanding of scientific idea systems
and be responsible for the perception of internal cognitive tensions. Finally,
as philosophers of science are fond of emphasizing, the mere recognition
of a tension or a contradiction does not determine its precise localization
within an idea system. Empirical anomalies that ultimately lead to the
undermining of well-established theoretical models may initially be regard-
ed only as minor technical difficulties that will eventually be made compati-
ble with the existing theoretical framework.
It is thus possible to regard scientific development as a perpetual striving
toward an integrated and coherent view of the world, a process which
proceeds by eliminating various tensions and contradictions from complex
16 Chapter I
but open systems of ideas. Our assumption that the idea system is open
enables us to account for continuities as well as discontinuities in scientific
development; for while global revolutions are possible in situations of
profound conflict, the tensions between certain elements of an idea system
might be resolved locally, without requiring the overthrow of the entire
system. For instance, a conflict between a philosophical assumption and
a methodological rule might be resolved without requiring any substantive
or theoretical changes. Since change results from the need to restore
consistency or introduce a more encompassing coherence, a newly intro-
duced divergence can always be viewed as rational and motivated, even
when the discovery of the problem or the divergence is itself influenced by
changes in the criteria of rationality. Scientific change is not a series of
epistemic breaks but a dynamic and continuous process; but the fact that
development is partially continuous (i.e. that certain elements of an idea
system persist unchanged in even the most radical scientific revolutions)
does not mean that it must proceed according to any single logic of scienti-
fic discovery. Changes may occur in different parts of the system at different
times, they may be legitimated by different arguments and there may be
more than one response to any particular inconsistency, tension, or gap.
It is of course this last possibility which leaves room for disputes and
negotiations, and for the "construction" of facts, methods, and theories.
As presented here, our model of change in science remains rather barren
and abstract. Its usefulness can be tested only as we examine specific
historical changes and attempt to interpret specific instances of cognitive
divergence and continuity. We must ask how problems are discovered and
defined. What kinds of cognitive conflicts, tensions, and inconsistencies
lead to different types of divergence? Are there multiple attempts to resolve
a given problem in the idea system? If so, how do these various attempts
differ among themselves? What is the nature of the cognitive continuities,
and what processes lead scientists to question different elements of their
idea systems at different times? Some of these problems will be addressed
in the following chapters in the context of the emergence of schools of
thought in linguistics.
Social Divergence
Schools of thought cannot be characterized by cognitive divergence alone.

All kinds of cognitive divergence may occur without resulting necessarily
in the emergence ofa school of thought as a social entity. Jerzy Szacki notes
this succintly: "there is no doubt that the emergence of a school of thought
is not just a derivative of the development of opinions."3l Although schools
of thought are always cognitively divergent from the field of which they are
a part, we cannot be certain a priori that cognitive divergence is always the
initial causal factor responsible for the creation of a school of thought.
(There might exist cases in which the social integration of school members
occurs prior to their cognitive divergence, which might then follow from the
social separation of the group.)
How, then, are we to describe the social integration of a school of
thought? As noted above, the location of school members in the same
institutional setting, although common, is by no means universal, especially
in later stages of development when some school members and students
will move to new locations. Obviously the members of a given school will
interact more actively with one another than with other members of the
field. This interaction, however, assumes different forms in different fields
and in different historical periods. In the context of modern academic
science, the modes of this interaction range from casual gatherings and
seminars to discipleship, co-authorship, and to such relatively institutional-
ized forms of interaction as the publication of a special journal, the estab-
lishment of a separate scientific association (as in the various psychoanaly-
tic schools or the Prague Linguistic Circle), or the organization of scientific
meetings and conventions. None of these activities are specific to schools;
members of specialties, invisible colleges, or research areas also tend to
interact intensively with one another, and their modes of interaction do not
evidently differ in kind from the modes of interaction within schools. Even
the coincidence of such intensive social interaction with some kind of
cognitive divergence may be said to be common to specialties and research
areas as well as schools.
Since members of schools of thought engage in social activities similar
to those of members of other social groups of scientists, it is impossible to
isolate the special social characteristics of schools of thought by analyzing
these activities directly. Instead, it may be illuminating to examine the
positions of schools within institutionalized science, and seek to describe
the relationships between schools and the contexts in which they function.
18 Chapter I
Schools vs. Disciplines: Autonomy and Institutionalization
Unlike specialties and disciplines, schools of thought functioning within

modern academic science are not separately institutionalized, even though
some of their activites may be. While schools may strive for a certain degree
of institutionalization, they generally do not attempt to be institutionalized
as schools. Instead, all attempts at institutionalization will be directed
either at the establishment of a new specialty or at the acceptance of the
idea system of the school by all the other members of the reference disci-
pline or specialty. According to Shils, the institutionalization of an intellec-
tual activity can be said to involve
the relatively dense interaction of persons who perform that activity. The interaction has a
structure; the more intense the interaction, the more its structure makes place for authority
which makes decisions regarding assessment, admission, promotion, allocation. The high
degree of institutionalization of an intellectual activity entails its teaching and investigation
within a regulated, scheduled, and systematically administered organization. The organization
regulates access through a scrutiny of qualification, provides for organized assessment of
performance, and allocates facilities, opportunities, and rewards for performance - for ex·
ample, study, teaching, investigation, publication, appointments, and so forth. It also entails
the organized support of the activity from outside the particular institution and the reception
or use of the results of the activity beyond the boundaries of the institution. 32
While schools of thought do not meet these criteria of institutionalization,

academic disciplines and specialties do, and, as Shils makes clear, insti-
tutionalization affords them a degree of autonomy: journals specially de-
voted to the field are published, and articles are refereed by the members
of the specialty or discipline; students are trained and certified by members
of the field, and are taught from textbooks written by these members;
special positions for members of the specialty exist at universities or
research institutes, and the use of works from outside is usually quite
limited; and finally, a special elite may emerge whose competence to judge
the scientific results of members of the specialty is generally not subject to
question by members of other specialties.
This partial autonomy, mitigated by the fact th?t the elites of various
specialties (though not disciplines) show some overiap, limits the kind and
degree of competition among different specialties. Specialties do compete
with each other for resources, whether in the form of research funds or
personnel; they may also compete with each other for prestige; but there
is as a rule no competition among specialties with regard to authority and
competence in judging the scientific results reported by the members of a

given specialty. The right and competence of the members of the elite within
the specialty to evaluate scientific work is generally not questioned either
by the members of the elite or by the members of any other specialty,
although such questioning may take place within the specialty.
Since schools of thought are not separately institutionalized, they do not,
as a rule, possess the same degree of autonomy as specialties. Their right
to the internal legitimation of scientific results may be questioned by
members of other schools, the specialty of which they are a part, or the
discipline or specialty from which they are in the process of becoming
separated.
Schools and the Legitimation of Scientific Results
It is commonly acknowledged that scientific communities are not egalitar-

ian, and that the scientific elite has, among its other functions, the task of
evaluating and legitimating scientific results. According to Michael Pola-
nyi:
Authority is not equally distributed among scientists. There is a hierarchy of influence; but
exceptional authority is attached not so much to positions as to persons. A scientist is granted
exceptional influence by the fact that his opinions are valued and asked for. He may then be
elected on administrative committees, but this is not essential. The self-government of science
is largely unofficial; the decisions lie with scientific opinion at large, focused and expressed
on each particular occasion by the most competent experts commanding wide confidence ...
The government of science ... exercises no specific direction on the activities under its control.
Its function is not to initiate but to grant or withhold opportunity for research, publication
and teaching, to endorse or discredit contributions put forward by individuals. 33
The same thought can be found in Whitley's discussion of the role of

reputation in science, though Whitley expresses it more forcefully, empha-
sizing conflict and the role of power rather than consensus: high reputation
is not merely a symbolic reward, but also a means to "affect the allocation
of resources and, indirectly, jobs in work organizations" and implies "pow-
er over knowledge goals and procedures."34 The scientific elite may thus
be defined as that segment of the scientific community which, by "endorsing
or discrediting contributions put forward by individuals," exercises authori-
20 Chapter I
ty over the attribution of recognition, reputations, and resources, and is

able to influence the further development of its specialty, even if only
indirectly. The legitimating and directing role of the scientific elite does not
always remain unquestioned, and schools of thought are socially divergent
from their reference field precisely insofar as they question the legitimacy
and cognitive authority of the scientific elite and attempt to institute their
own means and criteria for legitimating scientific results. In other words,
a school of thought attempts to establish its own scientific elite, one
partially independent from the elite(s) previously considered responsible
for the evaluation of scientific work in a given area. This attempt to
establish a separate means oflegitimating scientific results does not neces-
sarily involve a complete break with the means of legitimation that were
accepted previously. A school need not reject all claims to authority on the
part of the "establishment" elite; it might question only their ability to
evaluate work in a given area (i.e., maintain that the area over which the
existing elite claims authority is too broad), or it might question only some
of the evaluations of the old elite. In other words, it might dispute the
authority of the elite directly by claiming that the elite's evaluations are
incorrect, or it might try to evade the elite by laying claim to a separate area
of competence. However broad or narrow the range of competence claimed
by a school of thought, it is this collective attempt to bypass or overthrow
the competence or legitimacy of the existing elite(s) that makes the school
socially divergent from the field in which it functions.
The legitimation of scientific results occurs in a variety of ways. Some
legitimation, even in the context of modern academic science, takes place
in unofficial and non-institutionalized settings. In the words ofJohn Ziman,
"reputations are at the mercy of continual gossip in every laboratory
around the globe."35 But while detailed assessments and judgments con-
cerning the significance of a given piece of research are often transmitted
unofficially, one of the most important steps toward the acceptance of a
piece of scientific research as a legitimate contribution occurs when this
work is published in an accredited, refereed scientific journal. "The fact is
that the publication of scientific papers is by no means unconstrained. An
article in a reputable journal does not merely represent the opinions of its
author, it bears the imprimatur of scientific authenticity, as given to it by
the editor and the referees whom he might have consulted."36 So it is that
a school of thought will often attempt to establish an independent means
of legitimation of scientific work by founding a new journal, edited and
refereed by members of the school. Many schools of thought functioning
in the context of modern institutionalized science attempt to publish such

special journals, or to establish control over an already existing journal.
Sometimes the publication of such a journal also allows the members of
a school an opportunity to criticize - and thus attempt to undermine the
legitimacy of - the work of their opponents. The fact that the foundation
of a separate journal grants a school of thought a measure of independence
in the legitimation of scientific work has been noted by Krantz in the case
of operant psychology: "By establishing a journal with standards specific
to their concerns, the approach creates its own internal controls while at
the same time providing potential immunization from external
constraints."37 Similarly, Crane has observed, "By creating a journal of its
own such a group a school can bypass the criticism of referees from other
areas."38
The work of scientists may be also legitimated by being presented and
discussed at scientific meeting and conferences. Special professional asso-
ciations which organize such meetings, publish journals, or adopt certain
special criteria for the admission of members may also fulfill a similar
function. As we shall see, schools of thought can employ all these means
of legitimating their research.
Other, less institutionalized claims to legitimacy are made when schools
of thought invoke the authority of some distinguished and universally
acclaimed scholar whose ideas they claim to be developing, or taking
seriously, or interpreting correctly for the first time (Marx and Freud have
played this role on many occasions). This seems to be especially common
in the social sciences and humanities, where classical sources are rarely
superseded by new works. The role of such a claimed predecessor is often
purely symbolic. Sometimes similar claims to legitimacy are made by citing
the support of distinguished scholars in other disciplines (as many structu-
ralist schools invoke the authority of Saussure regardless of their field) or
by insisting that the members of a school are applying the exacting stan-
dards of a more developed discipline to their own "less scientific field" (as
social scientists, for example, often lay claim to the methods of natural
science). The claim to legitimacy is sometimes also supported by invoking
and emphasizing the social value of the innovations developed on the basis
of a school's idea system, especially when the ideas in question have
practical applications or may be used to support a socially esteemed
ideology. As we shall see, the status and reputation of a school's leader in
the larger field helps to provide the school with some basis for its own claim
to legitimacy.
22 Chapter I
Schools in Academic Science
The claim to legitimacy and authority of an emergent school of thought will

in every instance be modified by the specific institutional arrangements in
which scientific work is pursued, and by the modes in which scientific
authority is exercised at the time and place in question. For example, the
functions of national scientific academies in Western Europe were not the
same during the period of amateur science as in the later period following
the academic institutionalization of science. In the eighteenth century,
national academies were directly responsible for the exercise of scientific
authority; but since the nineteenth century, they generally have not played
a major role in the process of evaluation and legitimation of scientific
results, nor in decisions concerning the distribution of resources (perhaps
with the exception of the countries of Eastern Europe where such acad-
emies have been transformed into research institutes). 39 We should expect,
therefore, to find that the tactics used by modern schools of thought in their
bid for scientific legitimacy will be directed less at gaining the support of
national science academies than was the case in the eighteenth century, and
both the form of their claims to authority and the particular mode of
implementing these claims will differ.
In what follows I will be concerned only with schools of thought function-
ing in the context of academic science, and I will try to analyze the
constraints which this mode of scientific institutionalization places on the
development of the cognitive and social divergence of schools.
The institutionalization of science at the universities in the course of the
nineteenth century meant, among other things, that science had become a
profession. Scientific education and scientific careers became patterned:
scientists were first educated at the universities, then appointed to po-
sitions as researchers and teachers at the universities. In time, this insti-
tutionalization meant that the universities held an effective monopoly over
scientific education. Only those trained in science at the universities pos-
sessed a legitimate claim to scientific expertise and could then embark on
careers in science (or enter any career requiring scientific expertise). Con-
versely, an appointment to a university position meant not only that a
scientist was provided with an income and with some of the resources
needed for his research, but also that he was recognized as a legitimate
teacher with the right to examine and evaluate students pursuing the
specific degrees necessary for their own future careers. The availability of
students and potential disciples is crucial to the continuing development
of a science and the transmission of scientific idea systems to succeeding

generations of students. It is also crucial to the continuing development of
schools of thought.
Schools of thought have rarely attempted to establish separate training
centers for their students. Since careers in science are open predominantly
to those who have completed a university education and received the
necessary degrees, schools of thought cannot compete for students and
funds without first acquiring the legitimate right to train future researchers
(along with other professionals) who then would have access to regular
careers in science, with the attendant incomes and opportunities for re-
search provided by the universities. The Freudians constitute one impor-
tant exception, since they did train their own students outside the univer-
sities; but this was possible only because of their occupation as analysts
with incomes derived from therapeutic activities rather than directly from
research or teaching. Even those schools which did establish research
institutes or laboratories did so in close connection with the universities
(for example, the Frankfurt School made a special effort to arrange the
affiliation of their institute with Frankfurt University, and later with
Columbia University).40
The fact that schools of thought generally cannot afford to establish
separate training centers for their own students and disciples means that
the careers of the members of schools - and the development of the schools
themselves, to the extent that they require access to funds and students -
are dependent inter alia on their members' access to university positions.
This access, the progress of a scientific career at the university, and espe-
cially the recognition of a given researcher as a legitimate member of a
disciplinary community are all based primarily on an evaluation of his
scientific work. (For our purposes it is important only that it be based on
evaluation, regardless of whether or not this evaluation is based on the
intrinsic quality of the work; I am not interested here in the particular
criteria used in evaluation, nor in the influence of extraneous "non-scienti-
fic" factors on the evaluation.) This evaluation is generally performed by
the scientists themselves, and especially by the elite of a given specialty or
discipline. The specific mechanisms for making decisions concerning the
certificiation of students as scientists, or the appointment or promotion of
scientists to academic positions, will differ according to the particular
structure of a given university organization. In some organizational ar-
rangements, decisions in these matters are made not by scientists but by
political or administrative powers which mayor may not rely on the
24 Chapter I
evaluations provided by academic colleagues, and which often select the

very segment of the scientific community they then consult in these
decisions. This is true not only of the Third Reich and the Soviet Union,
but also, for example, of nineteenth- century Germany, where the Ministry
of Education commonly ignored faculty recommendations in making
appointments on all levels. The precise arrangements by which such
decisions are reached will of course affect the behavior of schools of
thought; in some situations an appeal to administrative or political powers
may in fact be far more effective than an appeal to the scientific elite.
Generally speaking, however, elite evaluations of scientific work playa
considerable role in decisions affecting the course of scientific careers and
the distribution of resources, and a paramount role in the attribution of
legitimacy and reputations.
The Dual Legitimation System
The dependence of schools of thought and their members on access to

resources available through the university system (such as students and
research facilities and funds, not to mention personal incomes) means that
emergent schools of thought are also dependent on evaluation of their
scientific work by members of the elite whose reputations lend weight to
their judgments, and who often occupy positions enabling them to make
authoritiative decisions concerning the distribution of relevant resources.
The attempt of an emergent school of thought to establish an independent
means of legitimating scientific results is conditioned by the fact that a
school remains to some extent subject to the authority of the prevailing
scientific elite. In other words, if an elite has the authority to grant or
withhold legitimacy and thereby also to direct the future cognitive develop-
ment of a field, a given school of thought wishing to question this right must
nevertheless orient itself with respect to the current cognitive and insti-
tutional conditions, and must continue to function under these conditions.
This "double allegiance" of schools has been noted by Szacki: "we can
speak about schools only if in certain situations scientists tend to develop
two kinds of solidarity, on the one hand with all the representatives of a
given (sub)discipline, and on the other hand with only some ofthem."41 It
seems to me that these "two kinds of solidarity" are a direct result of the
situation in which schools of thought develop within the structure of
institutionalized science: they try to develop partially independent means

of legitimation, yet they also remain dependent to some extent on the
legitimation of their work by the established elite(s) of their specialty or
discipline. The attempt of a school of thought to become institutionalized
as an independent specialty, and thus to acquire the right to legitimize its
own work internally or to replace the existing elite, can thus be understood
as an attempt to introduce a more unified legitimation system.
This dual system of legitimation of the scientific products of a school of
thought enables us to account for certain features of the cognitive diver-
gence of schools. In discussing the cognitive structure of schools I have
emphasized that cognitive continuities are just as important as discon-
tinuities. Szacki makes a similar observation when he discusses the lack
of autonomy characteristic of schools of thought, which he claims are never
"in opposition to official science as a whole."42 It seems to me that we might
be able to explain the role of such continuities if we look at a school of
thought in the context of the dual system of legitimation within which it
functions. If the work of scholars in a school of thought is to be legitimized
both internally by the members of the school and externally by the estab-
lished elite (even when the school aims ultimately at the displacement of
this elite), then we should expect to find that the cognitive divergence of
the school is constrained to some extent by the requirements of this dual
system. On the one hand, the establishment of a separate means of legiti-
mation allows schools to continue working within a partially divergent
cognitive framework, while on the other, the embeddedness of the school
in the existing institutional framework dictates a degree of cognitive con-
tinuity.
The degree to which such constraints influence the extent of cognitive
divergence will, of course, differ depending on factors such as the structure
of the elite in a given field, the existence of alternative audiences, the extent
of previous cognitive consensus, and the degree and mode of institutionali-
zation of the given specialty or discipline. It will also depend on the status
of the leader of the school, the school's location in the institutional struc-
ture, and its access to resources. These factors will also influence the degree
of opposition to the school and its idea system, and thus, indirectly, the role
of this opposition in allowing or hindering the development of the school.
26 Chapter I
Cognitive Consequences of tbe Dual Legitimation System
If schools of thought are constrained by the exigencies of a dual legitimation

system, the degree of institutionalization of a given field and the manner
in which it is institutionalized within the university system should affect the
opportunities available for the creation of schools of thought and the
possibilities of cognitive divergence.
On the most basic level, it appears that more highly institutionalized
fields - those with a well-defined and separate organizational identity
supported formally with distinct university chairs or departments - should
constitute less hospitable settings for the formation of schools of thought
than fields whose identity is recognized in a less formal manner, whose
practitioners form only partially differentiated subgroups within the aca-
demic community, either scattered among several academic disciplines or
organizationally identified with some larger field, one not necessarily cogni-
tively unified. Since elites in highly institutionalized fields are, by definition,
better delimited and more powerful (and their status is strengthened by
more formal organizational support), the schools that do emerge in such
settings should be relatively constrained by the existing institutional frame-
work and by the ability of the established elite to exercise great influence
over the school's success. Thus, we might expect to find that the extent of
cognitive divergence of schools created within highly institutionalized fields
would be relatively limited. A school which challenges only some of the
evaluations and legitimations of the elite, rather than their right to accord
such legitimation in general, might stand a better chance of success in such
a situation. In highly institutionalized fields, substantively or methodologi-
cally oriented schools of thought might enjoy more chance of success than
those which challenge the philosophical assumptions of the field or the
validity of established theories. Opportunities for the creation of substan-
tively or methodologically oriented schools of thought might also increase
in situations where unassigned resources are still available. This is not to
say that highly institutionalized fields do not undergo radical change, but
it is unlikely that such changes will occur through the emergence of diver-
gent groups. Szacki observes that the bureaucratization of science, which
results in the "elimination of relations not sponsored by a formal organi-
zation," hinders the development of schools of thought. 43 While such
organizational factors might playa considerable role in preventing the very
emergence of schools, it is even more likely that the increased power of
those who occupy formal positions of authority, and the centralization of
this power in "bureaucratized science," may act as constraints limiting the

opportunities for more radical kinds of cognitive divergence. Closely con-
nected with the degree of institutionalization will be such factors as the
availability of resources and the centralization of control over them. Clear-
ly, schools will not have much opportunity to develop in fields in which
scarce resources are centrally controlled. This suggests also that the cen-
tralization of authority within a given field, and in general the structure of
the field prior to the emergence of a school, will determine the nature of
the constraints on and opportunities for the development of schools and
the extent of their cognitive divergence. It is not altogether tautological to
claim that the greater the number of schools in a given field, the easier it
becomes to create an additional school.
Opportunities for Divergence: Center and Periphery
We tend to think about science as inherently international, yet it is com-

monly recognized that some disciplines or specialties may be more insti-
tutionalized in one country than in another, and that the elites in some
disciplines may be highly localized even if their reputations are more
cosmopolitan. Given the fact that decisions concerning the distribution of
resources are made, at least in part, on a local or national level, the unequal
institutionalization of a given field in different locations might offer differ-
ent opportunities for the creation of schools of thought in different settings.
In other words, we might expect opportunities for the creation of schools
to be greater at the peripheries of the institutional structure, or in locations
where the elite can excercise its power only indirectly, than in the center
where the field is highly institutionalized and the elite's authority is more
immediate. We should find that a school emerging in central locations
where the discipline of which it is a part is highly institutionalized, and
where the members of the current elite are highly concentrated, will
encounter more opposition, be less cognitively divergent, and be generally
more dependent on the elite than schools emerging at the periphery of the
institutional structure. Moreover, if marginality is indeed conducive to
innovation, then we should be more likely to encounter schools of thought
in general, and radical schools of thought in particular, on the periphery,
since both the social and the cognitive conditions for divergence are greater
there than in the field in genera1. 44 Conditions favorable to the development
28 Chapter I
of a school might be even greater if the creation of a school of thought in

such a peripheral location were to be seen as a means of accelerating the
development of the field in a given country, and thus receive support from
members of other disciplines and from the authorities responsible for the
distribution of resources. The lack of mobility of scholars in such locations
might also constitute an advantage for the development of schools. 45
Opportunities for Divergence: The Leader's Status
Finally, the status of the leader of a school will play an important role in
determining the opportunities afforded to the school. In general, the higher
the status of its leader, the greater will be the chance that a school will
develop successfully. Pierre Bourdieu distinguishes between the "suc-
cession" and "subversion" strategies adopted by different scientists in their
careers. 46 Although this distinction relies on an exaggerated division
between normal and revolutionary science, it might prove useful to inter-
pret the careers of some school leaders as following a pattern of both
strategies in temporal succession, so that the accumulation of resources
derived from a succession strategy might enable a scientist to follow more
divergent lines of development in his school leadership.
A scientist who already enjoys a high reputation will be less likely to
encounter resistance from other scientists, and might either control some
resources directly or be in a position to influence decisions concerning their
distribution. He will also be more likely to occupy an advantageous position
in a university or research insititute, making it easier for him to attract
students and to direct the activities of other scientists. For example, the
directors of research institutes in nineteenth-century Germany were in
advantageous positions because of their power over the institutes and their
relative autonomy from external scentific authority.47
Such advantageous positions for school leaders need not exist only in
very central and visible locations. Sometimes the advantages of a peripher-
allocation may coincide with those of a leader enjoying high status. J.B.
Morrell suggests that the peripheral location of Giessen contributed to the
success of Liebig's school of chemistry, and he emphasizes the role of
Liebig's growing reputation even before the latter was appointed to a chair
in Giessen and before the establishment of his laboratory and research
school. 48
The hypotheses presented above reflect some of the rough and unrefined
implications ofthe theoretical framework within which the phenomenon of
schools of thought has been examined in this introduction.
Given the complexity and variety of both the cognitive and the insti-
tutional conditions under which specific schools of thought develop, it is
difficult, if not impossible, to submit such hypotheses to strict empirical
testing. As it develops, a particular idea system manifests its own opportu-
nities for divergence, which are difficult to systematize, while at the same
time constraining the possibilities for other types of change; the institution-
al arrangements within each particular field, within different university
systems, and at different historical periods also resist definitive and com-
prehensive treatment because of the many variables affecting the formation
of schools. The hypotheses outlined above are likely to prove more useful
as guidelines for further investigation or as aides in isolating relevant
variables and formulating more specific questions, than as hypotheses
sensu stricto. In the following chapters, the historical case studies of several
schools in European linguistics constitute an attempt to examine the tena-
bility of the perspective suggested here, but they aim also at a greater
refinement of the variables that must be considered in any interpretation
of the formation of schools of thought in specific historical settings and
under particular cognitive and institutional circumstances.
Schools of Thought in Linguistics
The development of European linguistics in the nineteenth and early

twentieth centuries constitutes a particularly attractive setting for the in-
vestigation of schools of thought. Although the study oflanguage itself was
not a new (nineteenth-century) phenomenon, linguistics developed as an
academic discipline only during the first decades of the nineteenth century,
when it also assumed a radically new historical cognitive orientation. Its
institutionalization proceeded unevenly in various countries, so that the
nineteenth-century dominance of Germany in both cognitive and insti-
tutional development was challenged only at the turn of the twentieth
century by developments in France, Switzerland, Russia, and Czechoslov-
akia. The radical reorientation oflinguistic interests that accompanied the
institutionalization oflinguistics in the German university system provides
a convenient starting point for the investigation of both the cognitive and
30 Chapter I
the institutional development of linguistics. The uneven reception of the

new field of research enables us to focus the investigation on Germany
while offering opportunities for comparisons with other locations (especial-
ly France) in which an early interest in the history of Indo-European
languages was not successfully transformed into the continuing concern of
an academic research community. The cognitive development oflinguistics
in Germany and its institutionalization within the German university sys-
tem are the subjects of the following two chapters.
Chapters IV and V examine the formation of the first distinct school of
thought in linguistics: the Neogrammarians. The case of the Neogrammar-
ians provides us with an opportunity to study a school of thought develop-
ing close to the center oflinguistic research activity, and one whose mem-
bers were closely associated with the dominant linguistic elite. The emer-
gence of this school took place at a time of great successes in linguistic
research, and it was greeted with an unprecedented amount of controversy;
so the Neogrammarians offer a good subject for an investigation of the
constraints and opportunities affecting the development of a school of
thought in a relatively highly institutionalized environment in close proxim-
ity to the centers of authority. At the same time, the Neogrammarian
example allows us to identify the effects of cognitive and institutional
constraints on the formulation of divergent idea systems and to examine
those particular features of the institutionalization oflinguistics in Germa-
ny that influenced the formation of new schools of thought.
The Neo-Idealist school of thought, the subject of Chapter VI, arose in
reaction to the dominance of the Neogrammarians and to the limitations
of their idea system. The Idealists attempted to exploit the opportunities
provided by changes in the broader intellectual climate and by the way in
which linguistics was organized in German universities. They are particu-
larly interesting as a school both because of their relative lack of success
(which helps us to identify some of the social and cognitive limits of
divergence) and because they exemplified the inherent difficulties facing the
further development oflinguistics in German academia. The Neo-Idealist
example allows us to weigh the importance of external intellectual trends
on the formation of schools of thought, and to appreciate the constraints
which a high degree of institutionalization imposes on the development of
schools located within the sphere of authority of a dominant elite yet not
closely aligned with this elite.
The radical reorientation of linguistics that took place in the early dec-
ades of the twentieth century offers an opportunity to examine cognitive
changes resulting in successful scientific revolutions, and also of the insti-

tutional arrangements facilitating such developments.
Moreover, this reorientation allows us to investigate the formation of
radically divergent schools of thought, such as the Geneva School led by
Ferdinand de Saussure. The linguistic doctrine of Saussure, now generally
acknowledged as the foundation of most if not all twentieth-century
linguistics, affords an excellent opportunity for the study of a process of
dramatic cognitive change and of the cognitive constraints remaining in
force under conditions of radical discontinuity. The relationship between
Saussure and the dominant, post- Neogrammarian idea system of his time
is the subject of Chapter VII. The identification of the limits of Saussure's
divergence suggests the existence of institutional and cognitive constraints
affecting the development of schools of thought on the periphery. Chapter
VIII examines the opportunities afforded by the peripheral location of
Geneva and the ambivalent position of Saussure himself among the
linguistic elite, as well as the constraints operating on schools of thought
even in such relatively remote and weakly institutionalized settings as
Geneva. If the N eogrammarians offer a prime example of a school
developing near the center of institutional authority, the Geneva School
exemplifies the situation of schools on the periphery.
Although the three schools of thought examined in the following chapters
can hardly be said to exhaust the subject of linguistic development in the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries, this selection nevertheless allows us to
maintain a high degree of historical continuity in the investigation. As a
result, it has also been possible to analyze in some detail the processes of
cognitive change in linguistics and to suggest an analytical framework for
the discussion of the development of scientific idea sytems.
CHAPTER II
THE IDEA SYSTEM OF THE EARLY COMPARATIVE

GRAMMARIANS
Throughout the nineteenth century, comparative and historical linguistics

remained very much a German discipline. Although it is impossible to
disregard the contributions made by scholars of other nationalities (for
example by Rasmus Rask, the Danish precursor of Grimm, or by later
linguists such as G.!. Ascoli in Italy or Michel Breal in France), their
achievements appear isolated and scattered when compared to the steady
and cumulative work of the German comparative grammarians. German
linguists laid the foundations for the new discipline, and their comparative
and historical grammars, dictionaries, and compendia dominated it
throug~lout the nineteenth century. What accounts for this continuing
advantage of German linguistics?
The dominance of German comparative grammarians was by no means
a simple result of their heads tart in the field. The idea that served as a
foundation of the new discipline had been articulated several decades
before Franz Bopp began his comparative studies. During the latter half
of the eighteenth century a number of writers had observed the similarity
between Sanskrit and the European languages without stimulating any
research.l In 1786, William Jones, a British colonial judge in India, ascrib-
ed this similarity directly to the descent of all these languages from "some
common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists";2 but even his formu-
lation of the problem provoked no response. Twenty-two years later, when
Friedrich von Schlegel reiterated Jones' idea that the similarities between
Sanskrit, Persian, Latin, Greek, etc., could not be due to accident or
borrowing alone but must have resulted from their common history, he
found a far more receptive audience. Schlegel's call for the comparative
study of grammar was answered despite the fact that his formulation of the
relationship among these languages rested on the mistaken assumption,
absent from Jones' work, that the European languages were direct descen-
dants of Sanskrit itself.
Compared with Britain and France, Germany was also disadvantaged
by its lack of contact with India. Around 1800, Sanskrit was almost an
unknown language in Europe, and there were virtually no dictionaries or
32
The Idea System of the Early Comparative Grammarians 33
grammars from which it could be studied. Sanskrit texts were difficult to

procure and could not be printed in Europe. Bopp, the founding father of
comparative grammar, repeatedly complained in his letters to Win-
dischmann that Sanskrit texts printed in India were extremely expensive,
even when they were available? In this situation, the direct access to India
enjoyed by the British, or even the modest collection of Sanskrit manu-
scripts amassed in France, constituted important advantages. British
colonial officials brought to Europe both their knowledge of Sanskrit and
of the religious, philosophical, and literary writings of the ancient Indians.
Gradually these amateur scholars began publishing Sanskrit texts in
England and compiling the first Sanskrit grammars and dictionaries.
Nevertheless, despite their early start and advantages of easier access, the
work of the British Sanskritists was soon eclipsed by the detailed and
massive German scholarship, and comparative linguistics did not become
a research area in England until much later ill the century.4
Knowledge of Sanskrit constituted a condition sine qua non for the
development of comparative grammar. Yet during the first decade of the
nineteenth century, there was no one in Germany - and few men elsewhere
- who knew this language. In order to learn Sanskrit and other Oriental
languages, German scholars travelled to France or England, where they
found greater access to Indian texts and some teachers of Sanskrit.
Friedrich von Schlegel studied Sanskrit in Paris in 1803 with Alexander
Hamilton, a British officer returned from India who had been stranded in
Paris by the Napoleonic blockade. Hamilton also taught Sanskrit to
Antoine Leonard de Chezy, later a professor of this language at the College
de France, and to Langles, a librarian responsible for the collection of
Sanskrit manuscripts in Paris. Both Chezy and Langles later helped a
number of German scholars in their studies of Sanskrit. Franz Bopp
travelled to Paris in 1812 and studied Oriental languages there until 1816,
when he went to London. Although Bopp had difficulty finding an appro-
priate teacher of Sanskrit and worked on it mostly alone, he did receive
some help from Chezy and Langles. August Wilhelm von Schlegel,later the
first professor of Sanskrit in Germany, went in 1814 to study in Paris with
Chezy. Other German Sanskritists who studied abroad included J.G.L.
Kosegarten, later professor in Greifswald (in Paris 1812-14); Othmar
Frank, professor of Sanskrit in Munich (in Paris 1813-17); Peter von
Bohlen, a student of both Bopp and Schlegel, and later professor in Konigs-
berg; Stenzler, also Bopp's student and later professor in Breslau, and
Christian Lassen, Schlegel's student and later colleague in Bonn, who
34 Chapter II
travelled to London and Paris in the mid-1820s. However, at the time of

Lassen's journeys, Sanskrit was already being taught at several German
universities and the study of Oriental languages in Paris was no longer de
rigueur. During the following years the direction of such travels reversed
itself competely, and scholars interested in Sanskrit or comparative linguis-
tics came to Germany from all over Europe. s
Early in the nineteenth century, European interest in the Orient was
widespread and by no means limited to India. As both France and England
extended and consolidated their colonial possessions, new cultures and
traditions became subjects of scholarly investigation. And yet, after the
initial burst of interest, Sanskrit studies remained rather peripheral in both
countries, while comparative Indo-European linguistics hardly existed as
a research area until the 1860s and 70s. Apparently, access to Sanskrit
sources did not guarantee the development of Sanskrit philology, nor was
a knowledge of Sanskrit in itself sufficient for the formulation of the idea
system of comparative linguistics.
The situation was different in Germany. Although the German states
held no colonial possessions in India or elsewhere, India had long
maintained a particularly strong grip on the German imagination. As
expressed in the works of Herder, Hamann, or Windischmann, this interest
pre-dated any direct acquaintance with Sanskrit language and literature.
According to Schlegel, "It is in the Orient that we must search for the
highest Romanticism";6 and Romanticism exercised a powerful influence
on all aspects of German intellectual life. What, however, was the role of
Romanticism in stimulating linguistic research in Germany? How was it
involved in the early formulations ofthe idea system of comparative linguis-
tics?
Early Comparative Grammarians: Philosophical and Theoretical Beliefs
When reading the works of an important thinker, look first for the apparent
absurdities in the text and ask yourself how a sensible person could have written
them.?
New fields of study do not emerge in an intellectual vacuum, and broad

intellectual trends appear to play a particularly crucial role in the early
stages of the formation of a discipline, prior to its institutionalization. It is
during such early stages when the autonomy of the field is not yet assured
and its boundaries are being negotiated that external legitimation must be
most actively sought. Accordingly, we can expect extensive congruence
between the modes of thinking adopted within the new field and those
prevalent in other areas of intellectual (or social) life. The links between the
German Romantic movement and the development of historical linguistics
in the first decades of the nineteenth century illustrate the multifaceted
character of the integration of broader intellectual trends into an emerging
scientific idea system.
On the most general level, the Romantic preoccupation with the exotic
and the oriental might have been one of the reasons underlying the interest
in Sanskrit and its connection with the European languages. Among those
who first explored the connection between Sanskrit and the European
languages, and who undertook historical studies of language, there were
several thinkers also known for their activities as Romantic men of letters:
Friedrich and August von Schlegel, and Jacob Grimm. For Friedrich von
Schlegel, the discovery of Sanskrit and the ancient wisdom of the Hindus
was to inaugurate a revival of European culture comparable in its effects
to the rediscovery of classical culture in the Renaissance. 8
In his essay on "Conservative Thought," Karl Mannheim argued that
"romanticism may be interpreted as a gathering up, a rescuing of all those
attitudes and ways oflife of ultimately religious origin which were repressed
by the march of capitalist rationalism."9 It is no exaggeration to claim that
the search for the Indo-European mother tongue was one aspect of this
rescue, and that in this sense Romantic thought provided a fundamental
justification for the inauguration of comparative linguistic studies. The
discovery that Sanskrit was related to Greek, Latin, Gothic, and other
European languages became the starting point of sustained research only
when it was joined with the notion that this community oflanguages points
to a distant past when language was still an organic whole and exhibited
perfections that were lost in later stages of development. It does appear
that this search for a mythic and ideal past was Romantically inspired. 1o
Broad intellectual trends - Romanticism in this instance - can not only
provide an impulse and a legitimacy to a new area of study, but can also
be shown to supply some of the conceptual resources to such an area and
thus to structure the manner in which concepts are defined and problems
formulated. The comparative grammarians' understanding of the nature
and history oflanguage bore clear traces of Romanticism. The idea that the
original Indo-European language possessed a "wonderful structure" (as
36 Chapter II
William Jones said of Sanskrit) was present from the very beginning of
comparative grammar and historical linguistics and had profound effects
on the nature of the comparative grammarians' investigations. Abandoning
the Enlightenment idea of progress, the early comparative grammarians
and historians of language saw the earlier stages of Indo-European as
richer and purer than the later, more corrupt languages. At the beginning
of Deutsche Grammatik, the first historical grammar of German, Jacob
Grimm listed the main lessons to be learned form his work:
Since the High German of the 13th century shows nobler, purer forms than the language of
the present day, and those of the 8th and 9th centuries are purer still than those of the 13th,
and finally since the Gothic of the 4th and 5th centuries shows even more complete forms,
so it follows that the language spoken by the German people in the first century will have
surpassed even Gothic. I I
A little later in his exposition, Grimm asserted that the development of

language progresses in a direction opposite to that of the cultural formation
(Bildung) of the human race. Early language is corporeal (/eiblich), sensual,
and full of innocence; later it becomes "more spiritual, less immediate, and
sees in its words appearance and ambiguity." 12 It is only in the early stages
of language that one can discover the true meanings of words and their
relationships. Early language was natural and reflected immediate human
experience; the growth of rationality made it artificial and abstract, de-
stroyed its initial meaningful relationship to the world. In Grimm's de-
scription oflinguistic change there echoes a rejection of the Enlightenment
glorification of reason and its identification of the rational with the natural:
for Grimm, the rational destroys the natural, the poetic, the sensual.
Franz Bopp, the "father of comparative grammar," saw in the earlier
stages oflinguistic development not only the key to an understanding of the
"origin of the forms characterizing grammatical relations," 13 but also an
organic unity which disappears when languages
die away little by little, in that no longer understanding themselves, they allow their originally
significant members or forms, which have little by little become a more superficial mass, to
be cast aside, or to wither, or to be misused - that is, to be employed for purposes for which
according to their origins, they were unsuited ... 14
For Bopp, as for many of his successors, the perfection of the language
resided in its completely organic character, which disappears when lan-
guage "forgets" its initial organizing principle and each of its forms becomes
"a superficial mass." This idea of language as an organism that was
originally transparent and perfect but had suffered decay and degeneration
is also crucial for Schlegel. These two philosophical assumptions - of
language as an organism and of its history as a fall from perfection -
specified the focus of comparative linguistic research and the goals of
historical reconstructions. They were incorporated into methodological
directives and theoretical generalizations and also provided some criteria
for the evaluation of linguistic research. But in order to understand better
the role of these two concepts in the idea system of early comparative
grammarians, it is necessary to examine more closely what exactly was
meant by "organism" and how its history was conceived.
The original Indo-European language was seen as an organism not
because its elements formed a well-integrated system of functionally inter-
dependent parts, but because it was governed by an internal life-force
(Lebenskraft) which permeated every morphological category.15 Thus, un-
derlying all language construction was a vital principle that organized each
and every grammatical category separately, though in a similar manner.
(There is no evidence that the early comparative grammarians were inter-
ested in the functional coordination of these morphological categories, and
they were definitely not interested in the study of syntax.) As language aged
and decayed, the organic character of its elements became increasingly
obscure.
This fascination with the organic rather than the mechanical character
of the world was one of the most characteristic features of Romanticism.
It was present already in Herder and Goethe, and developed by Schelling
and the Schlegel brothers. It is perhaps Goethe's studies of metamorphosis
in the organic world which furnish the closest analogy to the early compara-
tive grammarians' ideas about the organic character of language. Accord-
ing to Dilthey, Goethe's "first guiding idea for the study of organisms was
that of the analogy between the different parts of one and the same orga-
nism. The individual organisms display a disguised, as it were, repetition
of the same parts. It is the same leaf which appears first as a shoot, then
as the stamen, the calyx, the bloom, the pollen, the pistil, and finally the
seedpod." 16 The same notion of analogical similarities between parts of the
linguistic organism underlies Bopp's and Schlegel's concept of a language,
all of whose elements are organized on the same morphological principle,
so that the essential similarity among them is revealed by comparison of
various elements as avatars of the same basic form. It is the extraction of
38 Chapter II
what is permanent and similar from the changeable and manifold which
constitutes the basic task of linguistics, just as the recognition of the same
principle in the various avatars of biological organisms was the goal of
Goethe's studies.
This Romantically inspired concept of language as an organism was
combined with a belief in the value of the original and uncorrupted lan-
guage. It is not the contemporary decayed languages which can reveal the
organic life-force behind linguistic organization, but the earliest manifes-
tations oflanguage, which are closest to the original "ancestor." Thus, the
search for the organic must also be historicaL Ernst Cassirer warned
against the interpretation of Goethe's concept of metamorphosis as the
concept of evolution: for Goethe, the notion that one ancestral form could
give rise to manifold younger forms in which the features of the ancestor
could still be recognized did not presuppose a deterministic and nomothet-
ic process of development, but rather an open variability of forms.
If we see from the outset the regularity of nature we are apt to think that it is necessarily so,
and was so ordained from the very first, and hence that it is something fixed and static. But
if we meet first with the varieties, the deformities, the monstrous misshapes, we realize that
although the law is constant and eternal it is also living; that organisms can transform
themselves into misshapen things not in defiance oflaw, but in conformity with it, while at
the same time, as if curbed with a bridle, they are forced to acknowledge its inevitable
dominion. 17
This non-evolutionary understanding of change was characteristic not

only of Goethe, but also of the historicist thought of the early comparative
grammarians. They believed in change and variation, but they did not try
to discover laws governing the historical development of language. Their
goal was to describe the original organic structure of the early morphologi-
cal forms, the living principle of linguistic organisms which lies concealed
in the decayed progenies of these prefectly transparent early forms.
Thus, Romanticism not only provided a general stimulus and legiti-
mation to the study of comparative grammar, but by supplying the early
linguists with certain conceptual resources it also shaped the manner in
which they formulated problems and defined the goals of their research.
Two Romantic concepts - that of an organism as a structure of analogical
parts that are dominated by a life-force, and that of history as a process
of free, and in this instance degenerating, variability - were central for
comparative grammarians because they structured the manner in which
the subject and the goals of research were understood. These concepts also
influenced the early theories and the methodology of comparative gram-
mar, though they did not determine them fully. (Later the methodology of
the early comparative grammarians will be discussed in greater detail; here
it is only necessary to note that the understanding of language as an
organism and of its history as a fall from perfection was translated into a
methodological directive to study the history of morphological categories
and to explore the organic principle of their composition. Since the essence
of the early language - its Lebenskraft - manifested itself in the structure
of every grammatical category, linguists should concern themselves with
the study of grammatical structures.) The complexity of the relationships
between the philosophical and the theoretical elements of an idea system
can be well illustrated by a comparison of the theories of the structure of
original language which were proposed by Bopp and Schlegel. Both of these
theories incorporate the Romantic idea of the nature of language and its
development, and yet they are mutually contradictory.
In Bopp's and Schlegel's theories of the original structure of the Indo-
European mother tongue, the notion of the organic perfection of the early
language was combined with a distinction (which can be traced to Leibniz)
between linguistic forms which express referential meaning (roots) and
forms which express relations (inflections). The Indo-European language
was organic because there was an internal and immediate relationship
between roots and inflections. The fact that there was a dispute about the
actual nature of this relationship, and that two theories describing this
relationship were proposed and discussed, supports the hypothesis that
philosophical ideas do not determine fully the theoretical systems con-
structed on their basis.
For Friedrich von Schlegel, a language was truly organic only when all
modifications of the root were internal. In such a language, "grammatical
relations" (such as tense, case, mood, person, etc.) were expressed by
modifications of the root, not by separate affixes. Only organic languages
were capable of development, since each root carried within itself the
possibility of growth, and reflected "the clear perception of the natural
significance of things." 18
In the Indian and Greek languages each root is actually that which bears signification, and
thus seems like a living and productive germ. every modification of circumstance and degree
being produced by internal changes; freer scope is thus given to its development, and its rich
productiveness is in truth almost illimitable. Still, all words thus proceeding from the roots
40 Chapter II
bear the stamp of affinity, all being connected in their simultaneous growth and development
by community of origin. From this construction a language derives richness and fertility on
the one hand, and on the other strength and durability. It may well be said, that highly
organized even in its origin, it soon becomes woven into a fine artistic tissue, which may be
unravelled even after the lapse of centuries, and afford a clue by which to trace the connexion
oflanguages dependent on it, and although scattered throughout every part ofthe world, to
follow them back to their simple primitive source. Those languages, on the contrary, in which
the declensions are formed by the supplementary particles, instead ofinfiections of the root,
have no such bond of union: their roots present us with no living productive germ, but seem
like an agglomeration of atoms, easily dispersed and scattered by every casual breath. They
have no connexion beyond the purely mechanical adaptation of particles and affixes. 19
Thus, according to Schlegel, the antithesis of an organic language is a

mechanical one: in organic languages, the root itself expresses both mean-
ings and relations immediately and internally; while in mechanical lan-
guages, on the contrary, meanings and grammatical relations do not
coincide, roots do not carry within them all their transformations, and the
whole "structure" is a formless aggregate.
August Wilhelm von Schlegel shared his brother's views about the devel-
opment of organic and mechanical languages. In his lectures on art and
drama he explicitly formulated the distinction between the two types of
linguistic organization:
Form is mechanical when, through external force, it is imparted to any material merely as an
accidental addition without reference to its quality; as, for example, when we give particular
shape to a soft mass that it may retain the same after its induration. Organical form again is
innate; it unfolds itself from within and acquires its determination contemporaneously with
the perfect development of a germ .... In a word, the form is nothing but a significant exterior,
the speaking physiognomy of each thing, which, as long as it is not disfigured by any
destructive accident, gives true evidence of its hidden essence. 20
On this basis Schlegel and Humboldt developed a system of classification

oflanguages that distinguished between isolating, monosyllabic languages
(with lack all inflection); agglutinating languages (where inflection is a
matter of adding affixes to roots); and inflectional languages (which express
relations by internal changes of the root, and therefore are truly organic).21
Both brothers Schlegel believed that the older Indo-European languages,
especially Sanskrit, Latin and Greek, belong to the third (inflectional)
group.
In his 1816 study of the conjugational system of Sanskrit, Franz Bopp
adopted their suggestion that the original Indo-European language was
inflectional and that its grammatical forms were based on internal changes
in the root. 22 However, he added a proviso that sometimes inflection is not
internal but reflects an incorporation into the root of the "only true verb
- to be":
Among all the languages known to us, the sacred language of the Hindus shows itself one of
the most capable of expressing the most varied conditions and relations in a truly organic way
by inner reflection and change of the stem-syllable. But in spite of this admirable flexibility,
this language is sometimes fond of incorporating into the root the abstract verb, whereupon
the stem-syllable and the abstract verb share the grammatical functions of the verb (italics
mine).23
By 1819 Bopp had completely rejected the notion that Indo- European
languages are inflectional and adopted the view that agglutination lies at
the base of all inflection. Monosyllabic roots are joined together in such a
way as to express grammatical relations. Thus, for example, Bopp ex-
plained the origin of verb conjugations by the attachment of personal
pronouns to verbal stems. He explained his preference for the agglutination
theory by claiming that monosyllabic roots do not allow for adequate
variability to express all possible grammatical relations. 24
The agglutination theory adopted by Bopp and upheld by many of his
successors redefined the relationship between forms expressing grammati-
cal relations and roots expressing referential meanings. Unlike Schlegel, for
whom the organizing principle of Indo-European languages was a con-
ception of the root as a living "germ" capable of internal development, Bopp
proposed a new principle based on a "one-to-one correspondence between
morphological and semantic elements."25 Each separate linguistic element
(a root or an inflectional ending) has, according to Bopp, a specific form
and a specific meaning. "Bopp actually seems to have held that in the
proto-Indo-European language the primitive elements were by and large
expressed by separate morphemes."26 Both the roots and the inflectional
affixes have perfect referential meanings, and each semantic element has
its own specific form: "in Sanskrit, similar modifications of meaning are
expressed by similar modifications of form, and ... in a sense the meaning
of the organic inflections remains as fixed and constant as that of the
significant stem syllables."27
Bopp's adoption of the agglutination theory did not change his belief that
the original Indo-European language was organic and perfect. However,
the "life-giving principle" in language no longer lay in each particular root,
42 Chapter II
but rather in the unique relationship of correspondence between meaning

and form, and in the transparent combinations of unique semantic ele-
ments which formed words whose meaning was, as it were, the sum of the
semantic values of each component morpheme. As long as the value of each
morphological unit of a word was fully transparent - in other words, as long
as the grammatical structure of a language remained perfectly regular and
based entirely on the agglutination principle - the language was organic. 28
Languages lost their organic character as soon as the original meaning of
affixed elements became concealed by phonetic changes. When the origi-
nally perfect grammatical arrangement lost its regularity, and the original
bond between meaning and form was dissolved, languages began to "die
out." The daughter languages were at a stage
where they still might perfect themselves syntactically, but where grammatically considered
they have lost more or less of what belonged to that perfect arrangement in virtue of which
the separate members were in accurate proportion to each other, and all derivative formations
were still connected, by a visible and unimpaired bond, with that from which they originated.29
As we have seen, the philosophical beliefs of the early comparative

grammarians constrained but did not fully determine the theories built on
the foundation of these beliefs. Bopp's agglutination theory was just as
consistent as Schlegel's theory of internal inflections with the Romantic
idea that language is an organism and with the view of history as decay.
Both theories were based on the notion that language was perfect when
roots expressing referential meaning were transparently and immediately
bound with elements expressing grammatical relations. Both attempted to
explain the origin of grammatical forms. We are faced here with a situation
where similar philosophical positions serve as foundations for incompati-
ble theories, or at least for theories which generate contradictory hypo-
theses. Thus, according to Bopp, agglutination should be historically prior
to vowel alternations (Ablaut), and these vowel alternations should be
explained as secondary results of agglutination. According to Schlegel,
vowel alternations precede other linguistic changes and explain the origin
of grammatical forms. The choice between these two theories was impossi-
ble on the basis of any direct empirical evidence - appropriately ancient
linguistic materials simply did not exist, and even if they had been available,
there is no certainty that there would also be agreement about chronology,
the significance and reliability of such materials, or other elements of
background knowledge (even though the basic philosophical assumptions
underlying these two theories were similar). In this instance, theory choice
seems ultimately to have been decided by the respective roles that Bopp
and the Schlegel brothers played in comparative linguistic research.
Neither of the Schlegel brothers did any research in comparative grammar,
while Bopp focussed most of his attention on empirical comparative work.
August Wilhelm van Schlegel, who taught Sanskrit in Jena, was mostly
occupied with oriental philology, while Bopp's works, such as The Compar-
ative Grammar of the Sanskrit. Zend. Greek. Latin. Gothic. German and
Sc/avonic Languages, provided models for comparative research and served
as textbooks for students of the new discipline. If Schlegel taught his
students Sanskrit, Bopp taught them methods of comparative research and
formulated problems awaiting solutions, and his influence was therefore
incomparably greater. The agglutination theory was a fixed and almost
universally shared element of comparative linguistics until the advent of the
N eogrammarians.
We have seen that the same set of philosophical beliefs may allow
scientists enough freedom to formulate more than one theory. Similarly, the
same theory can be formulated and justified in the context of different
philosophical systems, provided that these systems share certain ideas.
Many basic philosophical ideas of the early comparative grammarians were
preserved until the seventies; and until then, most linguists (with some
important exceptions, such as Steinthal) believed that language is a self-
propelled organism which develops independently of its speakers, that
modern languages represent centuries oflinguistic decay, and that the basic
goal of linguistics is the recovery of the perfect, original Indo-European
language. In 1871, Georg Curtius, one of the most distinguished linguists
of his time, still claimed that "a principal goal of this science (comparative
linguistics) is to reconstruct full, pure forms of an original state from the
variously disfigured and multilated forms which are attested in the individ-
uallanguages."3o The same statement could have been made by Bopp fifty
years earlier. However, arguments may change even when their con-
clusions remain basically the same, and the preservation of some Romanti-
cally inspired philosophical assumptions and of the theories associated
with them does not mean that the linguists of later generations shared the
entire philosophical system of the early comparative grammarians. As the
Romantic justification of these beliefs lost its significance, they were inte-
grated into very different philosophical frameworks and received new
justifications. The most important of these new systematizations was that
of August Schleicher.
44 Chapter II
The Schleicherian Synthesis: To Save the Phenomena
By the mid-nineteenth century the philosophical ideas which formed the

foundations of the model oflanguage built by the early comparative gram-
marians were becoming rapidly outmoded. Romanticism, with its glorifi-
cation of an unspoiled and organic past, ceased to exert a strong intellectual
influence. At the same time, various evolutionary models of historical and
biological change were proposed and explored. History, both natural and
social, was submitted to the workings of universal laws. From Hegel, who
attempted to describe the development of the human Spirit by a single,
general formula, to Darwin, who discovered ceaselessly operating laws of
selection and adaptation which governed natural change, and Marx, who
proposed a model of social development as a succession of unavoidable
class conflicts, through a series oflesser men such as Lyell or Spencer, the
nineteenth-century thinkers were endeavoring to discover laws governing
all development.
The turn towards grand historical theories found its expression also in
linguistics: August Schleicher, a generation younger than Bopp or Grimm,
sought an evolutiOl:iary model of linguistic development that would explain
both linguistic diversity and the history of linguistic change in terms of a
set of universal laws. Strongly influenced by Hegelian thought as well as
the evolutionary models in the biological sciences, Schleicher attempted to
develop a linguistic theory which would provide a natural means of
classifying languages while also accounting for their evolution. 3 )
Schleicher's interest in formulating a theory to explain the history of
linguistic development by appeal to a general law makes his endeavor
fundamentally different from that of the early comparative grammarians,
who looked for the remote unspoiled organism of language and for its
grammatical rules, and wanted to document the decline of forms and
sounds, but did not regard the history of language and the existence of a
variety of languages as outcomes of the operation of universal laws. The
adoption of this new ideal of explanation did not mean, however, that
Schleicher had to reject in its entirety the linguistic tradition he inherited
from his predecessors. He remained constrained by some central philoso-
phical and theoretical beliefs of his predecessors and tried to incorporate
them into a changed framework of arguments and assumptions. How is it
possible, however, to integrate beliefs and theories which found their
justification in one philosophical system into a different system? What
changes of argumentation and meaning make such reformulations possible,

and what does this tell us about the structure of idea systems in linguistics?
According to Schleicher, linguistics is a natural science. While philology
is concerned with the study of linguistic usage, and thus with the cultural
side of language, linguistics studies language as a natural organism whose
development is independent of human will and thought. Linguistics is a part
of the natural history of mankind.
the object of linguistics ( ... ) is the language, whose manner of creation lies as far outside the
conscious control of the individual as it is, for example, for the nightingale who cannot possibly
exchange songs with the lark. And that which man's free will is unable to change in an organic
fashion, just as he cannot alter his physical form, does not belong in the realm of free Spirit,
but rather in that of nature.
Accordingly, the method of linguistics is totally different from those of all the historical
sciences, and essentially joins ranks with the methods of the other natural sciences.32
The independence of language from human will and subjectivity makes

the method oflinguistics fall under the auspices of the natural sciences, and
not of the historical sciences, which deal with free will and subjectivities,
and whose methods must accordingly reflect this situation.
In his first book, Z ur vergleichenden Sprachgeschichte (1848),33 Schleicher
argued that language is a part of the spiritual development of man, since
it has a history. Two years later he rejected this view (which he had
inherited from Hegel) and argued that it is incorrect to ascribe historical
development only to the Spirit. Just as the earth passes through geological
eras, just as crystals, plants, and animals exist as both successive and
simultaneous moments in the history of the world, so language, as a part
ofthe natural order, goes through an orderly process of change and devel-
opment, incorporating in its later stages the earlier, less complex develop-
ments. And just as the divisions in the system of natural organisms also
represent the stages of natural history, so the classification of languages
should allow us to describe both the multiplicity of coexisting languages
and the history of linguistic development.
Schleicher inherited his system of language classification from his pre-
decessors. Like them, he distinguished between meaning and relation (Be-
deutung and Beziehung), which, when given a phonetic representation, con-
stitute separate roots , and when roots are united together form a word. On
this basis he reproduced a threefold classification that was essentially the
same as that proposed by the Schlegels. First, there are languages that are
46 Chapter II
composed only of meaningful, isolated roots, which do not explicitly desig-

nate relations. Schleicher called these languages isolating or monosyllabic.
Secondly, on a higher level of development, there are languages in which
roots expressing meanings are loosely united with other roots which origi-
nally also expressed only meanings, but which have been generalized to
express relations. In such languages, which Schleicher called agglutinating,
the bond between the forms expressing meanings and forms expressing
relations remains utterly superficial. Finally, there are those languages in
which forms expressing meanings and forms expressing relations are inti-
mately bound together to form a unity. These are the inflectional languages,
and they represent the highest stage of linguistic development.
While in the first, isolating class, relations do not yet enter into phonetic existence at all, we
found in the second class that meanings and relations are phonetically completely separate,
and thus the strict unity of the word is disturbed; in the third class this difference again comes
together into a unity, yet not to the undifferentiated unity of the first class, but rather to a higher
unity that carries this difference preserved within itself as a surpassed moment: it is an
articulated unity.34
This linguistic dialectic served Schleicher as a classification schema for the

existing linguistic families: thus, for example, Chinese is isolating and
American Indian languages are agglutinating, while both the Indo-Europ-
ean and the Semitic languages belong to the third, inflectional class.
Despite the fact that Schleicher's classes of languages are the same as
those proposed by the Schlegels, there is a difference between their charac-
terizations of the inflectional languages. For the Schlegels, the roots in the
inflectional languages are original and the transformations they undergo
are internal. According to Schleicher, the modifications of roots in the
inflectional languages are the result of an especially strong bond between
roots expressing meanings and those expressing relations. This allows
Schleicher to overcome the differences between Bopp and the Schlegels.
Bopp argued against the Schlegels that the Indo-European words are the
result of an agglutination, an affixation of roots expressing grammatical
relations to roots expressing referential meanings, and that therefore the
Indo-European languages cannot be classified as inflectional. Schleicher
unified these two opinions: the Indo-European languages are indeed in-
flectional, but all inflectional languages are the result of a particularly
thorough and immediate process of agglutination. The order of classifi-
cation is like that proposed by the Schlegels - isolating, agglutinating,
inflectional - but classifying the Indo-European languages as inflectional

supports Bopp's agglutination theory.
Schleicher's attempt to reconcile the views of Bopp with those of the
Schlegel brothers reveals other differences between him and his predeces-
sors. Whereas for the early comparative grammarians the system of classi-
fication of languages was distinct from the process of language develop-
ment, for Schleicher the system of classification is also a model oflinguistic
growth. Initially, languages are isolating; there are only monosyllabic roots
expressing referential meanings but no grammatical relations. Later, the
function of some of these roots changes; they begin to express relations and
are loosely attached to other roots. Finally, the union between meanings
and relations becomes strong and immediate, and the process of linguistic
development reaches an end: a perfect grammatical arrangement is
achieved.
If we recall its morphological formation, its composite and comparative forms, then we are
immediately confronted with the assumption that the development of languages consists in
temporal sequences of moments that we see set beside one another in the morphological
system; we expect to find what appeared as a class in the system appearing again as a period
of development. We will assume that the more highly organized languages originally consisted
of single roots, and that the agglutinating linguistic form resulted from the merging together
of several roots, until finally, as a result of the capacity of the root itself to change, some
languages reached the highest level of linguistic development. 35
Schleicher's model oflinguistic evolution goes even further in accommo-

dating the views of his predecessors. He agreed with them that languages
begin to decline once they achieve the perfection of the inflectional stage.
To arrive at this conclusion, Schleicher divided the process of linguistic
development into two discontinuous periods. During the first, the prehis-
torical era, languages grow and develop according to the pattern described
by the agglutination theory. In the second, historical era, languages suffer
destruction and decay. Schleicher explained this reversal in the process of
development in a truly Hegelian manner. He posited an identity between
language and thought, and argued that as long as language is not fully
developed, men are not free to act with full consciousness and cannot
create history. Once language allows men to think consciously and act
freely, once men enter the historical world, language begins to decay. The
freer the spirit participating in history, or even the more active this history,
the greater will be the phonetic decay and the more rapid the degeneration
of inflectional forms.
48 Chapter II
This result could have been deduced without further ado from the fact that peoples with
incomplete languages cannot possibly be historical, that historical life presupposes language,
and that man cannot simultaneously be creating language, with his spirit tied to the sounds
and with language as the goal of the unconscious motions of his mental activity, and at the
same time be spiritually free, consciously exercising his will, and making use oflanguage only
as a means of imparting his mental activity. It can even be proven objectively that history and
linguistic development stand in inverse proportion to each other. The richer and more
powerful the history, the more rapid will be the linguistic decline; the poorer and slower the
history, the more reluctantly it flows, the more accurately the language is preserved.36
Schleicher relied here on what we might describe as a "law of conservation

of the spirit." Initially the spirit resides in linguistic development, it partici-
pates in the development of language. During this stage, men have as yet
no language which would enable them to think consciously (and thus to act
historically); once the spirit has accomplished this task and led to full
linguistic development, it withdraws from language (and thus from nature)
and enters the realm offreedom, i.e., of history. But language devoid of spirit
begins to decline. This kind of explanation fulfills all of Schleicher's require-
ments: it accounts for both the growth and the decay of language, it
explains why violent historical activity leads to more rapid decay (the spirit
abandons language more rapidly when it has to participate more actively
in history), and it leaves the entire process of language development and
decay in the sphere of the natural world and therefore subject to natural
laws. Yet even here, where Schleicher was operating most openly with
Hegelian concepts and modes of thought, he sought for an analog in the
lives of natural organisms and argued that the degeneration or decay of
linguistic forms is similar to the process of "regressive metamorphosis"
(riickschreitende Metamorphose) in natural history. The double sources of his
philosophy and theory of language - Hegelian philosophy and the natural
sciences, especially biology - are present at every stage of his exposition.
Despite the fact that Schleicher provided a completely new theoretical
explanation of the division of linguistic development into two discontin-
uous periods, the distinction which he thus justified was that of his pred-
ecessors: like them, he valued the prehistorical, inflectional languages, and
regarded linguistic development during the historical period as defor-
mation and decay.
What then was the nature of the innovations introduced by Schleicher?
On the one hand, his theory was based on philosophical assumptions about
linguistics different from those of his predecessors. He offered an evolution-
ary explanation oflinguistic change as a process governed by developmen-
tal laws. He argued that any system of linguistic classification must be

based on natural and not on conventional criteria, and he demanded that
a classification system also provide a key to the understanding of develop-
ment. He argued much more strongly and explicitly than his predecessors
that linguistics is a natural science and that its methods should be based
on objective observation, classification, and generalizations, which he saw
as the basis of the method of the natural sciences. All these principles were
absent from the work of his predecessors. On the other hand, basing
himself on these assumptions, Schleicher managed to incorporate into his
theory many of the most central beliefs ofBopp, Grimm, and the Schlegels.
Like them, he argued that language is an organism, though organism meant
for him something slightly different than for the Romantics insofar as it was
now subject to immutable laws rather than free variation. Like them, he
regarded the common Indo-European language (and to some extent the
classical languages of India, Greece, and Rome) as linguistically perfect,
and viewed the history oflanguages as a process of gradual disintegration.
Neither the meaning of perfection nor that of decay were altered - Schleich-
er continued to operate with the same notions of relation and meaning and
the same ideal of transparent structure. The incorporation of these philoso-
phical ideas and normative assumptions allowed Schleicher to retain also
such theoretical constructs as the classification system of the Schlegels and
the agglutination theory of Bopp (initially in conflict, they were redefined
by Schleicher and made compatible). Clearly, any notion of a scientific idea
system as an integrated network of beliefs which mutually define their
meanings has to allow for enough flexibility to admit localized change. This
is possible only when we regard scientific idea systems as open structures
and take seriously the notion that the language of science is substantially
and firmly linked to other everyday and esoteric languages.
Under the double influence of Hegelianism and evolutionism, Schleicher
"rearranged" the philosophical and theoretical ideas of the early compara-
tive grammarians in such a way that they would form a unified system. The
replacement offree "metamorphosis" by inexorable historical laws govern-
ing all linguistic development and providing criteria for the classification
oflanguages involved changes in the structure of the theory, and resulted
in new justifications of theoretical ideas. But these ideas themselves were
not new. Schleicher placed new demands on the theory of language devel-
opment because his criteria for determining what is a scientific theory were
different from those of his predecessors. These criteria determined the
structure of the theory, the arrangement of ideas as a theoretical argument,
50 Chapter II
and thus the justification of the ideas within this argument. But once the
argument was reformulated, inherited ideas found a natural place within
it and their significance changed only marginally. The case of Schleicher
demonstrates not only that theoretical ideas might find their justifications
within different philosophical contexts, but also that changes in the struc-
ture of arguments need not imply conceptual discontinuities. According to
the Quine-Duhem thesis, any disagreement between an observational re-
port and theoretical prediction potentially threatens the integrity of the
entire scientific idea system, even though some local readjustments remov-
ing the inconsistency might be sufficient to reestablish consistency.
Changes such as those introduced by Schleicher appear to demonstrate the
possibility of a reverse process in which modifications of philosophical
assumptions need not require the abandonment of "lower level" theoretical
constructs. Continuity can thus be assured not only by the retention of
central philosophical assumptions, but also by the retention of other ele-
ments of the idea system, whether they be theoretical, methodological, or
substantive.
Linguistic Methodology Before 1870
Any discussion of a scientific idea system is incomplete without a conside-

ration of its methodology. Philosophical and theoretical beliefs allow
scientists to formulate research problems, define concepts, specify relation-
ships among them, impose conditions on what constitutes an acceptable
solution of a problem, etc. In fulfilling these functions, they steer empirical
research and constrain the choice of methodological approaches. However,
just as the integration of philosophical and theoretical beliefs was shown
to be flexible and contingent, so also the methodological practices and the
meta-methodological beliefs justifying these practices need not be perfectly
integrated into the philosophical and theoretical framework. The develop-
ment of the comparative and historical methodology of early nineteenth-
century linguistics allows us to examine changes in the character of inte-
gration among methodological, theoretical, and philosophical beliefs and
provides a basis for the investigation of the cognitive consequences of such
changes.
Initially, many methodological practices of the early comparative gram-
marians appear as unproblematic consequences of their philosophical and
theoretical ideas and interests. Gradually, however, in their attempts to

reconstruct the common Indo-European language and to document the
changes which transformed it into the variously disfigured modern lan-
guages, the early comparative grammarians developed a methodology that
was largely independent of their Romantically inspired philosophy and
theory of language. 37 Schleicher's synthesis allowed for a partial reinte-
gration of methodology into the philosophical and theoretical framework,
but the tension between methodology and theory remained an important
issue throughout the nineteenth century, and it was this tension which the
Neogrammarians set out to remedy.
In his essay on "Conservative Thought," Mannheim argues that Roman-
ticism was a reaction against the rationalism of the Enlightenment, but that
precisely because it was a reaction, it was necessarily affected by the very
ideology it was trying to oppose. Thus, "what the Romantics did was not
to reconstruct or revive the Middle Ages, religion or the irrational as the
basis and foundation of life; it was something completely different: a
reflexive and cognitive comprehension of these forces."38 To paraphrase
this statement in connection with language and the work of the compara-
tive grammarians, one could say that what these linguists attempted was
not to revive Indo-European, the perfect organic language, but to reach an
understanding of it and of the ways in which it was lost. To accomplish this
task, they needed a methodology that would allow them to reconstruct the
early language from the existing linguistic materials.
There is an obvious and direct relationship between some of the fundam-
ental methodological directives of the comparative grammarians and their
philosophical and theoretical beliefs about the nature of language and its
history. The notion that language was an organism whose decayed forms
in the attested historical languages still bore some resemblance to their
pure organic ancestors brought with it the comparative method, for it was
by comparison of the least decayed (i.e., oldest) forms that the essential
features of the original could be recognized. Goethe had used comparative
methods for a similar purpose in his studies of metamorphosis, and at the
beginning of the nineteenth century, comparison of forms as a method of
research was used in a number offields, most prominently in comparative
anatomy.39 Whether or not the early linguists were directly influenced by
any specific other science in the selection of this method is difficult to
ascertain, but this method agreed so well with their philosophical as-
sumptions about the nature of the linguistic mechanism that it could almost
have been deduced from these assumptions.
52 Chapter II
Similarly, since the essence of the early language - its Lebenskraft - was
believed to have manifested itself in the structure of every grammatical
category, linguists endeavoring to recapture the forms of the early language
should concern themselves in the first instance with inflections. Thus,
etymological comparisons of single words were regarded as insufficient,
and Bopp, Grimm, and the Schlegels favored instead comparative analyses
of morphological categories (Bopp's early works, for example, focus on
conjugations and declensions in various Indo-European languages). In
order to investigate what they saw as the organic essence of language, the
comparative grammarians practiced their trade by assembling the
linguistic forms present in various languages and then comparing their
morphological structures. The goal of these comparisons was to discover
the original, full morphological forms, and to account for the decay which
they had suffered during linguistic development. Morphological com-
parisons were also considered more reliable than comparisons of single
words, and, with the help of the agglutination theory, they made possible
an analysis of the original language.
However, morphological comparisons alone were insufficient. In order
to be able to apply the agglutination theory fully, linguists had to specify
also the meanings and the forms of the original roots. They had to recon-
struct the full and original shapes of these roots from the decayed roots of
modern European languages. In other words, their comparisons had to
extend beyond the formal similarity of the grammatical structures of the
related languages to the substantive, etymological similarity of roots
expressing meanings and relations. Thus, the comparative grammarians
and historians of language attempted to trace the sound changes (initially
believed to be identical with letter changes) which transformed the
common Indo-European roots. 40 The observation that some of these
changes were regular - i.e., that they systematically affected all or most
instances in which a given sound occurs in a daughter language - was to
be of immense importance for the further development of comparative and
historical linguistics. The first discovery of a regular correspondence
between sounds in related languages was made in 1818 by Rasmus Rask
(1787-1832), who discovered that some consonants in Germanic are syste-
matically represented by other consonants in Greek and Latin. This
discovery of the so-called "German sound-shift" was later systematized by
Jacob Grimm in the second edition of his Deutsche Grammatik (1822). The
discovery of this sound law, later known as Grimm's Law, together with
other early observations of regular sound correspondences in related
languages, led the comparative grammarians to focus more attention on the

study of phonetics. New discoveries of regularly operating sound laws
continued throughout the nineteenth century.
The observation of phonetic regularities increasingly supplemented mor-
phological comparisons and provided the basis for linguistic methodology.
Grimm's Law functioned to a great extent as an exemplar, a paradigmatic
discovery, and the discoveries of regular sound correspondences allowed
linguists to order and describe larger and larger areas oflinguistic material.
It allowed them to reconstruct the phonetic system of common Indo-
European, to conjecture the forms of specific roots, and to widen their
research from morphology to etymology. Like morphological similarities,
sound laws also provided paradigms for comparisons, criteria as to what
in fact could be compared, and guidelines to the reconstruction of original
forms.
Yet there was little in the accepted philosophical and theoretical beliefs
about language to justify this increased methodological reliance on sound
laws, and there was nothing to explain the regularity of certain sound
changes. The organic view of language and the belief that language suffers
decay did not specify how this decay was to take place. There was no
reason to expect that sound changes would be regular (and if the influence
of Goethe's metamorphosis were taken seriously, then regular changes
could not be a rule). This lack of integration between the philosophical and
theoretical beliefs on the one hand, and the developing methodology on the
other, led to several different attempts to change the linguistic doctrine.
The first of these attempts originated in a methodological controversy that
began in the 1840s.
Since reliance on sound laws was not integrated into the philosophical
and theoretical framework and the regularity of sound changes was not
explained, Theodor Benfey and Leo Meyer argued that it would be perfect-
ly justifiable to posit sound changes that deviate from already recognized
laws or from the principles of phonetic change which were then being
formulated on the basis of studies of articulatory phonetics. The younger
generation of linguists - foremost among them Georg Curtius and August
Schleicher - criticized Benfey and Meyer and insisted that sound laws
should be used as the main criterion in reconstructions. In order to justify
their argument, they attempted to integrate the regularity of sound trans-
formations into their theories of language development and to provide
explanations of this regularity.
54 Chapter II
Schleicher differed from his predecessors most dramatically in his at-

tempt to submit the entire process of language development to the work-
ings of laws. It is not only in prehistorical times that languages develop
according to necessary laws; linguistic decay is also governed by rules: "like
the development of languages, so also their decline occurs according to
certain laws, which we are able to determine through observation of the
languages, and which we can follow through centuries and millennia."41
Schleicher insisted that linguistics is a natural science, and that, as such,
it must follow what he took to be the method of the natural sciences:
Nothing but the exact scrutiny of organisms and their vital laws, nothing but a full devotion
to the scientific object should form the foundation of our discipline also; any discussion, no
matter how brilliant, that ignores this solid ground is bare and void of all scientific merit.
Languages are natural organisms which develop without being subject to the control of
human will, grow and develop, and then age and die away.42
In addition to asserting the regularity oflinguistic change and its nomothet-

ic character, Schleicher also attempted to explain how this change occurs.
According to this theory, languages decay phonetically because there exists
a tendency to reduce the effort required of the speech organs. The direction
of change is always towards a greater ease of pronunciation, greater econo-
my of effort. And since the speech organs of various people are more or
less the same, this change is always in the same direction. It is important
to note that it is human anatomy which determines how languages will
change, and that this linguistic road ofleast resistance is a natural phenom-
enon and not the result of human laziness or sloppiness.
All sound changes that occur in the course of linguistic life are primarily and immediately a
result of the effort to make things easier for our speech organs; comfort of pronun dation and
the conservation of muscular activity are here the effective agent. Thus an explanation of the
facts of phonetic history can be expected only from the physiology of the speech organs.43
The same general principle that is responsible for phonetic change is also
responsible for the destruction offorms. The working of analogy is, accord-
ing to Schleicher, the result of a tendency to limit the multiplicity of
linguistic forms to an absolute minimum. The replacement of an original
form justified by history, but unusual, with another one common to many
words, limits the grammatical complexity of the language. 44 This striving
toward uniformity is also toward greater economy and ease: a greater
number of words can then be handled in the same way. However, in the
case of analogy, Schleicher could not ascribe this tendency towards ease
to the anatomy of the speech organs. Analogy simplifies the grammar of
a language, not the pronunciation of individual sounds or words. But
Schleicher did not address the problem of the specific agent requiring this
greater economy of effort and demanding greater uniformity. He was
adamant that no linguistic change is produced by human will; and since,
following Hegel, he identified both individual and social human activity
with free will, he was unable to explain where the tendency toward unifor-
mity originated, apart from ascribing it to "human nature":
This decline of language also lies outside free and conscious determination; it has its origin
in the natural being of man, and thus affects all languages equally without, like other historical
events, having its point of departure in the free will of individuals. To be sure, linguistic decay
may be increased or retarded by historical events, and particularly through the influence of
literature, but its reason lies in the nature of man. 4S
Schleicher's identification of linguistic changes with nature allowed him to

see linguistic development as governed by laws, and thus to legitimize his
methodological practice; but it apparently left him unable to explain the
causes underlying analogical changes.
Having suggested the causes of regular linguistic decay, Schleicher had
to explain why these causes were inoperative during the period of pre his tor-
icallinguistic development. Here, for the first time, we see the signs of an
emerging inconsistency (and not just a lack of integration) between the
philosophical and theoretical beliefs about language on the one hand, and
the methodological directive to explain linguistic change by positing sound
laws on the other. In order to explain the regularity of sound change,
Schleicher posited an essential similarity between the speech organs of
different people. This meant that the tendency to reduce the effort neces-
sary for speech must have existed also in the prehistorical period. But
Schleicher agreed with his predecessors that in the earliest stages of
linguistic development languages were becoming gradually more har-
monious and perfect, and were not affected by sound laws, the effects of
analogy, or the tendency to simplify grammatical forms, all of which caused
only degeneration and decay. In order to resolve this apparent con-
tradiction, Schleicher turned again to his Hegelian explanation of the
transition from prehistory to history. He claimed that during the period of
language creation and progressive development, a special linguistic feeling
56 Chapter II
(Sprachgejiihl) opposed the tendency toward ease and economy of effort.

In historical times this feeling for the functions and meanings of words has
withered, allowing decay to occur.
We would like to call the feeling for the function of the word and its parts simply the "linguistic
feeling.~ This feeling is the guardian spirit of linguistic forms; to the extent that it weakens and
eventually disappears altogether, to this extent phonetic decay attacks the word. Sprachgefiihl
stands thus in direct proportion to sound laws, analogy, and the simplification of linguistic
form.46
Like the tendency towards economy of effort, the Sprachgejiihl is by no

means a subjective characteristic of speakers. It is the Spirit of the language
itself, and its operation or disappearance are independent of the psycholog-
ical or social characteristics of language users. As the Spirit participating
in the creation of language withdraws into the realm of history, language
ceases to be a goal and begins to be used exclusively as a means.
The longer peoples live, and the more active their historical development, the more the Spirit
withdraws from language, from the sounds in which it once dwelt alone, and the more the
language that was once the goal itself of the life of the Spirit becomes only a means for the
same, a means of exchanging thoughts. 47
Linguists who did not subscribe to Schleicher's view of history saw his
explanation of the reasons for a lack oflinguistic decay during prehistorical
times as merely an artificial attempt to conform to the received as-
sumptions about linguistic perfectability and linguistic degeneration. The
idea that there exists some special Sprachgejiihl preserving language from
degeneration in its early stages of development, then disappearing in later
stages of history, seemed to the Neogrammarians to be merely a non-
scientific ad hoc attempt to "save the phenomena," phenomena whose very
existence they were prepared to challenge.
Schleicher's insistence that the entire process of linguistic development
is subject to laws, and that sound laws should be regarded as the basis of
linguistic methodology, distinguishes him from the first generation of com-
parative grammarians. However, despite his reliance on the findings of
articulatory phonetics, Schleicher was unable to avoid describing sporadic
and irregular sound changes. He could not, nor did he claim to be able to,
substantiate his belief that linguistic decay is subject to invariable laws by
demonstrating it inductively in his empirical work.48
The conflict between theoretical and methodological assumptions exist-

ed on yet another level, and affected not only theoretical and methodologi-
cal considerations but also the empirical research of Bopp's followers. As
William Norman demonstrates, there were occasions when the application
of the principle of the strict regularity of phonetic change would lead
linguists to reconstruct original Indo-European forms which conflicted
with the assumptions of the agglutination theory. According to the aggluti-
nation theory, at some point in linguistic development there was a stage
when every root expressed either a meaning or a relation, and they did so
in a perfectly regular manner; i.e., a given relation (or given meaning) was
at this stage of development always expressed by the same root, without
any morphophonemic alternation. Norman demonstrates that this as-
sumption of perfect morphological uniformity occasionally came into con-
flict with the assumption of regular operation of sound laws. In other
words, forms which could be deduced by the assumption of regular phonet-
ic alternations did not yield reconstructions consistent with the aggluti-
nation theory, while reconstructions consistent with this theory had to
assume sporadic and irregular sound changes.
The agglutination theory, developed by Bopp, imposed constraints on the morphological and
semantic structure of reconstructed forms, while phonetic investigations and the notion of
regular sound change supplied constraints on the phonetic composition of reconstructions.
There was an inherent contradiction in the application of these two principles. 49
Both Schleicher and his contemporary Georg Curtius strove in vain to

reconcile these two methodological requirements. Ultimately, however,
they usually opted to accommodate the requirements of the agglutination
theory, and in many cases they had to posit irregular sound changes. The
belief in the ultimate validity of the agglutination theory was deeply embed-
ded in the theoretical and philosophical system of linguistic beliefs, and
therefore the agglutination theory seemed a much better judge of the
validity of reconstructions than the more recent and more superficial
theoretical integration of the belief in regular sound changes.
The tensions between different elements of the idea system were far more
evident in the work of Georg Curtius than in that of August Schleicher.
Curtius did not subscribe to Schleicher's over-arching Hegelianism and
faced greater difficulty in his attempts to provide a consistent justification
of the methodology while retaining his belief in historical linguistic decay
and the agglutination theory.
58 Chapter II
Like his friend Schleicher, Curtius repeatedly emphasized the impor-

tance of regular phonetic changes as the only reliable basis for linguistic
methodology. According to Curtius, science could achieve valid and reli-
able results only by analyzing the systematic and law-abiding aspects of its
subject matter: "For it is only what is regular and internally coherent that
can be scientifically investigated; what is arbitrary can at most be guessed
at, never decided with certainty."so Linguistic research must therefore rely
on "the strictest observation of sound laws."Sl
Although Curtius did not claim that linguistics was a natural science, he
was fond of comparing regular sound changes with the operation of natural
forces: "It is precisely in the life of sounds that fixed laws may be discovered
which act with the consistency of the forces of nature. Phonetic laws are
the one sure foundation of all rational etymology."s2 And in the article on
the importance of sound laws, he reiterated that "in certain periods the
penetrating shift of sounds affects large areas of sound with a kind of
natural force."s3
But Curtius did not believe that all phonetic changes are subject to
exceptionless laws. He needed the assumption of regularity to justify the
criteria of scientific methodology, but theoretically he argued for greater
flexibility and allowed for sporadic sound changes apparently not subject
to the "kind of natural force" which transforms sounds in a regular manner.
In The Principles of Greek Etymology, Curtius carefully distinguished
between regular and sporadic sound changes, and he discussed them in
separate parts of his work. His justifaction of this procedure is interesting
enough to be quoted in extenso:
Every rational scientific process depends simply on the rule being distinguished from the
exception, and this is why we insist upon a complete separation between the two classes of
sound-change. In the second book of this treatise we shall have to examine the rule in its
far-reaching infl.uence, including the permanence of the Indogermanic sounds in the Greek
language and that regular change of them which has become a law. For this reason the
arrangement of a lexicon has been chosen for that part. In the third book we treat of the
exceptions and endeavour to throw some further light upon a series of unessential phonetic
transitions and modifications. At the same time it is needless to say that we do not regard
either the one or the other class of phonetic change as accidental, but rather start with the
opinion that laws penetrate this phonetic side of the language as they do the whole. But as
the students of natural science are wont to distinguish between normal and abnormal phenom-
ena, so also must the student oflanguage. It win not always be possible to discover the reason
of the anomaly, but still by comparison of kindred anomalies we may discover even in those
a certain order, and it is important to determine the extent of this order with statistical
exactness. Especially the great preponderance of the rule over the exception in the point of
number may be made clear by this method, and a standard obtained for possible future
etymological combinations. 54
It is unclear whether Curtius was arguing here that sporadic sound changes
are "abnormal" phenomena that cannot be accounted for in principle, or
whether he believed that these sporadic sound changes are governed by
some as yet undisclosed laws which "penetrate the phonetic side of the
language as they do the whole." He believed that if linguistics was to be a
science, it had to rely on laws; but at the same time, he did not view the
process of language change as entirely nomothetic.
This split between the methodology of linguistics and the theory of
language change reappears in Curtius' explanation of the causes of sound
change. In his "Remarks on the Importance of Sound Laws," Curtius
elaborated his theory of language change. He agreed with Schleicher that
regular sound changes are a result of the tendency towards economy of
effort; but he attributed this tendency to the psychological characteristics
of the speakers of the language and not to the anatomy of their speech
organs. In order to explain sporadic sound changes and the lack of decay
in prehistorical languages, Curtius posited a force which acts in the di-
rection opposite to the tendency to ease the effort of pronunciation. This
counter-force is the Sprachgefiihl, which for Curtius is not the disembodied
spirit of the language, its protective angel, as it was for Schleicher, but
rather the result of the speakers' (unconscious) striving to preserve mean-
ings. The speakers' indolence produces sound changes and analogical
innovations; and their desire to preserve meanings protects some forms
from degenerating into phonetic corruptions: "The weakening of sounds
originates directly from a certain indolence or comfort on the part of the
speaker, which tends to increase in the course oflinguistic history. Against
this indolence stands the effort toward exactitude. Both tendencies are
mutually limiting."55 Thus, certain forms did not suffer phonetic decay
because they were more important for the expression of meaning than
others. 56
While Curtius' explanation of the causes of sound change accounts both
for their regularity and for deviations from this regularity, it hardly justifies
his insistence that the principle of regularity must take methodological
precedence over other considerations, or that it be used as a criterion for
evaluating the validity of reconstructions (since a given change could have
any number of semantically conditioned exceptions).
60 Chapter II
More serious difficulties, however, plagued his explanation of why sound

changes and analogical formations are characteristic only of later periods
of language development. He argued that as long as the speakers of a
language are aware of the origins of linguistic forms, and as long as each
element which goes into the composition of the word is recognized as a
separate, intrinsically meaningful root, then the tendency to preserve
meaning protects language from the tendency to make pronunciation
easier. Later, when the origins of linguistic forms recede into the past,
indolence and convenience begin to take their toll.
Unless one assumes that it is the "memory" of the original formation of
language, the actual consciousness of the origins of language, which
preserves it from decay (as Curtius sometimes seems to suggest), there is
a fallacy in his reasoning (which the Neogrammarians recognized). If, as
Curtius claims, sound changes and analogical changes cannot take place
as long as linguistic forms preserve their original character (i.e., oftranspar-
ent and meaningful roots), then there is no reason why language should
ever change at all. After all, sound laws and analogical formations are the
only possible sources of linguistic change according to Curtius. In Curtius'
case, as in that of Schleicher, the contradictions between the inherited
theoretical framework and the new methodology were brought more and
more to the surface. The Neogrammarians were quick to point to such
inconsistencies implied by the "two-stage" model oflanguage development,
and equally quick to derive from them their own radical conclusions.
To summarize: The early comparative grammarians set out to demon-
strate that the morphology of all the Indo-European languages could be
derived from the regular and transparent grammatical structure of a
mother tongue from which the Indo-European languages developed. Their
goal was to reconstruct this perfect language - to describe a linguistic
organism in which each element of a word is a monosyllabic root expressing
either meaning or relation. To achieve this goal they needed a methodology
that would provide guidelines for the reconstruction and criteria for eval-
uating the validity of proposed forms and posited changes. Just such a
methodological standard was provided by the discovery that some of the
changes suffered by language were regular. However, the notion of regular-
ly operating sound laws was not integrated into the theoretical and philoso-
phical beliefs about language. It was impossible, on the basis of these
beliefs, to explain why phonetic changes should be systematic.
Some members of the second generation of comparative grammarians,
including Schleicher and Curtius, insisted that the methodology oflinguis-
tics must be based on the assumption of nomothetic sound transfor-

mations. To justify this belief they attempted to integrate their methodology
into the theoretical system of the science oflanguage; they had to explain
why sound changes are regular. At the same time, as long as they
maintained their belief that the language they were reconstructing was
perfect (i.e., that its morphological and semantic structure was regular, and
that each element of a word was a union of meaningful roots without any
morphophonemic variation), their explanation of the regularity of phonetic
changes was necessarily timebound: the causes oflaw-like sound transfor-
mations could not be effective (active) during the prehistorical era of
linguistic growth. Explaining phonetic (and analogical) change as the result
of a tendency towards ease and convenience, they had to posit a counter-
force which operated only or primarily in prehistorical times. This was the
role of the mysterious Sprachgejuhl. Schleicher, because of his reliance on
Hegel and his organicist view oflanguage, was more successful than Cur-
tius in his attempt to separate the prehistorical from the historical. At the
same time, he was unable to maintain his evolutionist perspective consis-
tently, which demanded that the same laws govern the entire process of
development. Finally, his organicist view oflanguage and his insistence that
language belongs to nature rather than culture made it difficult for him to
account for analogical change.
Curtius, who was not a Hegelian and who did not believe that language
is a natural organism, attempted to explain linguistic change as the result
of psychological tendencies. But such a psychological model could not be
reconciled with the view that linguistic decay is essentially different from
the process of language construction. Consequently, his proposed justifi-
cation of linguistic methodology was laden with contradictions.
The agglutination theory proposed by Bopp and retained by both Curtius
and Schleicher proved to be yet another obstacle. As Norman shows,
adherence to the agglutination theory led both Schleicher and Curtius to
posit some sound changes which were at variance with recognized sound
laws. Schleicher seems to remain unaware of this contradiction, insisting
throughout his life that the period of linguistic decay is subject to laws like
all other natural phenomena. (Curtius attempted to remedy this inconsis-
tency by arguing that some changes are in fact sporadic and abnormal.)
And so, although both Curtius and Schleicher demanded that sound laws
(and analogy) be regarded as the methodological basis of comparative and
historical linguistics, they were unable to follow their own methodological
62 Chapter II
prescriptions in practice, and they could not justify them theoretically in

a consistent manner.
The development of linguistic methodology sketched in this section
suggests that the incomplete integration among the various elements of
their idea system allowed linguists to adopt methodological practices (and
accept empirical findings) which were not theoretically explained or justi-
fied. The resulting heterogeneity, however, was regarded as a flaw, and
linguists strove to integrate linguistic methodology with theories of lan-
guage development. Theories not only had to be consistent with beliefs
about the nature of language and the nature of science, but were also to
be structured in such a way as to provide justifications for the methodol-
ogies used in linguistic research. More thoroughgoing changes, however,
were introduced only when what had been regarded as a lack of theoretical
justification for methodological practices began to be perceived as an
inconsistency within the idea system. This perception, in turn, was con-
ditioned by the adoption of new philosophical assumptions about language
and science.
CHAPTER III
LINGUISTICS AT THE GERMAN UNIVERSITY
We began our discussion of the emergence of linguistics with the question

of how to account for the fact that during most of the nineteenth century,
linguistics was a German discipline. The argument that Romantic concepts
and ideas were profoundly embedded in the idea system of the early
comparative grammarians might explain why German scholars took par-
ticular interest in the links between Sanskrit and the European languages,
but it hardly explains why comparative studies of language became a
subject of lasting interest in the German universities. After all, long after
Romanticism had ceased to exercise any direct influence on intellectual life
in Germany, comparative and historical linguistics was still a growing field
of research.
The Romantic fascination with the Orient sheds light on the new interest
in the relationship between Sanskrit and the European languages; a
fashionable nostalgia for a pure and natural, pre-civilized world can be
interpreted as one of the motives underlying the search for the early,
uncorrupted stages of linguistic development. The assumptions of Natur-
phi!osophie about the nature of organic structures and their multifarious
transformations elucidate the sources of the early comparative gram-
marians' ideas about the nature oflanguage and its historical decay, as well
as certain features of linguistic methodology. But this cognitive "fit"
between comparative grammar and the intellectual climate of opinion in
Germany is, by itself, insufficient to explain the rapid and continuous
development oflinguistics in Germany in the nineteenth century. For this
to occur it was necessary to translate the initial harmony of interests and
beliefs into the continuing concern of a research community.
It is a commonplace to assert that ideas alone do not breed new ideas,
and that the establishment of a new field of investigation is as much a social
as an intellectual endeavor. Those theories, facts, or generalizations which
become part of a disciplinary idea system must be more than just formu-
lated; they also need to be presented to other scholars, evaluated and
deemed legitimate by those vested with the authority to make such judg-
ments, and then passed on to apprentices. The manner in which this is
accomplished depends in part on the existing institutional arrangements
63
64 Chapter III
into which the new discipline is to be incorporated. Moreover, these

institutional arrangements can in turn influence not only the social but also
the cognitive structure of the new discipline and shape its further develop-
ment. Like other emerging specialties or disciplines, in order to be estab-
lished as a continuing field of research linguistics had to acquire certain
permanent institutional structures which organized scientific work, formal-
ized the training of new members, established more or less regular career
patterns, and created a means for communicating research among
scholars. These institutional arrangements were, of course, not unique to
linguistics; rather, as a newcomer among other fields, linguistics had to fit
into the changing modes of the organization of German science at the
beginning of the nineteenth century, accommodating itself into the German
academic system and organizing its research in conformity with patterns
accepted by the scientific community as a whole. Only by means of such
accommodation could linguistics gain a place among the academic sciences
and its practitioners be recognized as legitimate members of the academic
community who, by virtue of their special expertise, would be granted the
right to a relatively autonomous exercise of scientific authority. But if the
institutionalization of linguistics required that its practitioners be recog-
nized as qualified scholars competent to fill positions in the German
academic system, then it is reasonable to suspect that there were certain
features of this system that made it especially hospitable to the new
discipline, and, conversely, that the institutionalization of comparative
grammar in this particular organizational setting affected its later cognitive
development.
The Idea of Higher Education and the Growth of Linguistics
The rapid institutionalization oflinguistics in Germany was at least partly

a result of the changes taking place in the German universities. I The first
formulation of the idea system of comparative grammar was con-
temporaneous with the famous neo-humanist reforms of the universities.
The Konigliche Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universitat established in Berlin in
1810 was to be the embodiment of the ideal university of Humboldt, Fichte,
and Schleiermacher, all of whom were closely involved in its establishment
and administration (Humboldt as minister of education, Schleiermacher as
dean of the theological faculty, and Fichte as rector). Over the following
Linguistics at the German University 65
years, Berlin was to serve as a model for reforms in other universities.

Bopp's Konjugationssystem, which is generally recognized as the first work
of comparative grammar and a prototype for later comparative studies,
appeared in 1816; this temporal coincidence in itselffacilitated the entrance
of the new discipline into the university curriculum. Newly established
organizational structures might be expected to exhibit greater flexibility
and openness to innovation than organizations that had been functioning
routinely for a long time, in which the established authorities might have
an interest in maintaining the status quo. It is therefore not surprising that
the first professorships of Sanskrit and comparative linguistics were estab-
lished precisely at universities that were either new or in the process of
being reformed. The first chair of Sanskrit philology was created at the
university of Bonn in 1819, only a year after it was founded, while the first
professorship of comparative linguistics was established for Bopp in Berlin
in 1821. The reformed universities of Munich and Breslau were also among
the first to receive chairs of Sanskrit philology.
The flexibility of new organizational arrangements was not the only
reason why the neo-humanist university reforms facilitated the institu-
tionalization of comparative grammar and Sanskrit philology; the estab-
lishment of the new field was also aided by an ideological compatibility
between the ideals of the university reformers and those of the comparative
philologists.
Perhaps no one epitomized this harmony better than Wilhelm von
Humboldt, a scholar and statesman who was among those involved in the
founding of the Berlin university and who, at the same time, was among
the founders of modern linguistics. Although Humboldt's own linguistic
investigations are different from the works ofBopp and his students, he did
study Sanskrit with Bopp, encouraged his work, and most probably helped
in the establishment of a professorship for Bopp in Berlin. As S. Lefmann,
Bopp's biographer, remarks:
One can imagine that Humboldt also spoke with Bopp about other things, about his
connection with the Bavarian government, about his views concerning the future. He who a
decade earlier had appeared as an "advocate" to recommend important men to his king, the
best teachers and representatives of their fields, may well have thought of recruiting Franz
Bopp for the school whose brilliant promise lay closest to his heart. He saw in Bopp the first
and best representative of a knowledge and a science in the importance of which he had
expressed his firm belief. 2
66 Chapter III
Whatever Humboldt's direct involvement in the establishment of the Berlin

professorship for Bopp, his views about education and about the role of
language in human experience encouraged the university study of compara-
tive grammar. Even if the eventual development of historical and compara-
tive linguistics diverged rather widely from Humboldt's expectations, he
believed that the new discipline reflected the general ideals of the under-
standing of culture and civilization which university education was sup-
posed to foster through its research and teaching.
Humboldt believed that the task of the university was to promote the
integral and free cultivation (Bildung) of the individual and his talents.
Driven neither by practical necessity nor by external compulsion, a student
was to devote himselfto learning in order to develop a well-rounded, rich,
and harmonious personality.
Civilization is the humanization of nations in their external institutions and customs and the
inner sentiments referring to these. Culture adds to this the refinement of social conditions,
science, and art. But when we say Bildung in German, we mean something at once higher and
more inward, namely, the disposition which harmoniously imparts itself to feelings and
character and which stems from insight into and feeling for man's whole spiritual and moral
striving. 3
Knowledge was not to be imposed from the outside, but to be achieved as

a result of inner need and self-motivated search. This search itself was
imbued with positive value, and the pursuit of knowledge, insofar as it
contributed to the development of man's inner culture, was a moral as well
as an intellectual activity. The university was to guide and facilitate this
inquiry by providing freedom to explore, as well as a community of men
devoted to learning.
The way to reach the goal is simple and sure. The university must only consider the
harmonious development of all the student's capacities, only concentrate his strength in the
smallest possible number of objects, explored as thoroughly as possible, and instill all
materials into the student's mind in such a way that understanding, knowledge, and creativity
are not conditioned by external circumstances, but rather take their stimulus from the
student's own inner precision, harmony, and beauty.
A mind prepared in this way will take up science by itself, since with other preparations such
energy and talent is either momentarily or prematurely buried in practical exertions and thus
made unfit for science, or else it dissipates itself in specialized knowledge without a higher
scientific calling.4
The goal of university study was thus not the acquisition of a certain
technical ability or craft, nor the mastery of a specialized body of knowl-
edge to be used in pragmatic professional pursuits, but rather the formation
of a whole and spiritually rich individual who, thanks to his education,
would be prepared to serve the nation and the state.
This ideal of education as cultivation encouraged the study of various
cultures, from the traditionally valued Greek and Latin antiquity to the
newly emerging fields of Oriental, Germanic, and Romance Philology.
Understood in the comprehensive manner of August Bockh, philology was
an ideal interest for a neo-humanist who, through the study of literature,
language, art, religion, customs, laws, etc., was to strive for a synthetic and
empathic understanding of the cultural life of a Volk or a community.
Encouraging broad and unified understanding of a culture, the philological
disciplines were dedicated to the same goals that were to be pursued
individually by every university student. In a sense, one way to become a
cultivated man was to study the cultures of other times and places and to
relive and absorb their knowledge and their values. This is precisely what
philologists were supposed to do.
For Schlegel, the notion that the study of culture promotes culture
served as a justification for the need to develop Indian philology. Schlegel
argued that the discovery of the original and highly refined Indian tradition
could provide the stimulus for a new Renaissance in Europe, with Sanskrit
literature, philosophy, and mythology playing the same role which Greek
antiquity had played in the first Renaissance.
Humboldt's support for comparative grammar was also based on the
notion that the new method would permit scholars to understand every
language as a function of the historical development and spiritual genius
of the nation that used it. In other words, Humboldt believed that the
comparative study of language would reveal both the universal nature of
language as an expression of human intellectual abilities and the intimate
relationship between a nation's particular spiritual and intellectual con-
ditions and its language.
Comparative linguistics, the precise investigation into the diversity with which countless
peoples solve the task oflanguage imparted to them by human nature, loses all interest when
it does not proceed from the point at which language is connected to the general configuration
of the national spirit. ( ... ) Since in its web of connected elements it (language) is only an effect
of the national linguistic sense, the very questions which concern the core of linguistic
formation and from which spring the most significant linguistic differences cannot be answered
68 Chapter III
thoroughly unless one assumes the foregoing elevated point of view toward linguistic studies.
Of course this elevation yields no materials for linguistic comparisons, which can be had only
from a historical consideration, but it does yield the only insight into the original relationships
between the various facts, and the realization that language is an inwardly connected
organism. 5
Humboldt's hope that comparative linguistics would provide a means for

the understanding of national ethos meant that he saw the new discipline
in the same light as philology in general, that is, as a method for gaining
an understanding of the unifying characteristics of spiritual life. Although
in its later development, comparative grammar did not address such issues
as the relationship between language and intellect, or between language
and the national spirit, initially its comprehensive yet historical method did
suggest the possibility of studying language both as a universal human
activity and as a special property of each particular cultural or national
community. This double - universal and particular - character oflanguage
was of special interest to a number of early nineteenth-century German
thinkers who, in response to the political fragmentation of Germany,
regarded language as the main criterion of national unity, historical con-
tinuity, and cultural identity. Both Humboldt and Schleiermacher, for
example, insisted that the university must preserve and cultivate the
German spirit, and that German, as the common language of Wissenschaft,
could guarantee the unity of all science as well as German identity.6
Obviously this attitude fostered the development of Germanic studies,
including historical linguistics, but in a broader sense it also encouraged
the study oflanguages related to German, with their history and genealogy.
It was no accident that despite protests from scholars such as Bopp, the
German designation for the Indo-European family of languages was
"Indo-Germanic" rather than Indo-European.
In addition to specific "ideological" support for comparative linguistics
and various branches of philology, the educational philosophy of neo-
humanism encouraged the development of linguistics by its emphasis on
pure research as an autonomous value. Pure Wissenschaft, the quest for
truth for its own sake, was seen by Humboldt as the highest calling of a
cultivated man. Internally motivated and uncontaminated by utilitarian
considerations, devotion to Wissenschaft was to be the mark of the uni-
versity teacher and student alike.
It is moreover a peculiarity of our higher scientific institutes to treat Wissenschaft always as

a problem that has not yet been completely solved and thus remains always in a state of
research, since the schools can only take up and teach completed and accepted experiences.
The relationship between teacher and student is therefore utterly different from what it was
in the past. The former is no longer there for the sake of the latter; both are there for the sake
of Wissenschaft ... 7
This emphasis on pure learning encouraged not only the study oflanguages
but also all kinds of research, both in the natural sciences and in the
humanities. However, it was of special significance for linguistics because
until the beginning of the nineteenth century the study of languages had
generally been regarded as a means rather than an end. Even when
language itself was an object of study and not just a skill to be mastered
in order to study literature, religion, or history, it was usually examined
primarily for normative or didactic purposes, and not as an independently
problematic object. In the introduction to his Vergleichende Grammatik,
Bopp distinguished his approach to language from the more traditional
methods by claiming that the grammatical organism of language and its
history constituted autonomous objects of study: "The languages examined
in this work are examined here for themselves, that is, as an object and not
as a means of research; we attempt to present their physics or physiology
rather than to propose a practical means of teaching them,',8 Bopp's
insistence on the independent value of a purely linguistic approach went
hand in hand with his belief that true science was inherently valuable and
needed no external, utilitarian justification. While this belief constituted a
dogma for the neo-humanists, it was by no means universally shared, and
its practical importance for the development of the new discipline, which
could claim neither pragmatic utility nor traditional legitimacy, is
illustrated by Bopp's own professional history.
When Bopp returned from Paris and London, he hoped to receive a chair
of Oriental languages or Sanskrit at one of the Bavarian universities. He
was, however, denied a chair in Wiirzburg, a traditional Catholic university
with a strong theological faculty that rejected Bopp's candidacy on the
grounds that Sanskrit was a "literary luxury" of no interest to students.
Since the university already taught Hebrew, Chaldaic, Syrian, and Arabic,
a teacher of Sanskrit would be left without students and would therefore
be superfluous. 9 The criteria used by the faculty to judge Bopp had nothing
to do with the value of his research or with his potential to contribute to
scholarship; rather, the task of the university was seen primarily in terms
of teaching, and in this context the possible lack of a clientele and the
uselessness of Sanskrit studies to theology were of critical importance.
70 Chapter III
Just as the Wiirzburg faculty reflected traditional beliefs about the tasks
of the university, so Bopp's response to the rejection was characteristic of
the "modern" view about the goals of learning. Bopp was full of scorn for
the criteria used by the Wiirzburg faculty: "These gentlemen only want to
teach what puts bread on the table ..." 10 Clearly, it was almost a matter
of pride for Bopp that linguistics could not furnish bread, and that one's
interest in scholarship should be based exclusively on ideal rather than
utilitarian considerations. His attitude was in harmony with the values of
the Prussian reformers in Berlin, but it carried little weight with the
traditional faculty in Wiirzburg.
Although it is difficult to assess the actual role which the endorsement
of the value of pure research played in the institutionalization of linguistics
in Germany, there are indications that a more utilitarian attitude was
accepted in France, and that this French pragmatism failed to encourage
the development of comparative linguistics or Sanskrit philology. While
such German scholars as Schleiermacher, Fichte, Humboldt, and
Schelling were advocating the pursuit of pure Wissenschaft, Silvestre de
Sacy, probably the most influential Orientalist in France, wrote Bopp to
suggest that he turn his attention to Arabic studies because the theological
significance of Arabic languages could assure him a useful and successful
academic career:
It is a shame that you cannot devote yourself exclusively to this branch ofliterature; but until
now the Sanskrit language cannot be a subject of ordinary instruction except in the largest
universities. Its relations with classical and theological studies are not sufficiently direct to
hope that it will become an obligatory university course. Thus, while you continue to cultivate
Sanskrit for your satisfaction and that of the learned world, you absolutely must apply your
talents in a manner more useful to the youth of your country by devoting yourself to the
teaching of the Arabic language in which you have made sufficient progress to continue
improving on your own and to provide solid instruction to your pupils. I say "solid instruction"
on purpose since I have often noted that in the universities of Germany ,one generally acquires
a smattering of Arabic, but that lacking a solid and systematic study of this subject, many
philologists use it falsely in applications to biblical exegesis, so that what should be a source
of illumination becomes instead a cause of errors and mistakes which are sometimes ridiculous
but are always shameful. It is thus desirable that young candidates in theology should not
satisfy themselves with a superficial knowledge of this language. 11
Sacy's letter can be interpreted simply as good practical advice given to a

young scholar with no independent means of support. On the other hand,
Sacy is making assumptions directly contrary to those of Bopp and his
sponsors such as Humboldt. Sacy considered language study to be only a

means of access to literary (and especially religious) texts. Knowledge of
Arabic was useful because it could be helpful in biblical exegesis; at no
point did Sacy consider language itself as an object of investigation, or
assign value to the mere learning of languages. Secondly, Sacy subscribed
to the view that the university was primarily a teaching institution, and that
its responsibility was to transmit solid and useful knowledge, to teach
specific skills. Research might be a source of personal satisfaction and
might be of interest to other scholars, but the task of a university teacher
was to train students for professional careers.
The differences between the views of Sacy and those ofBopp correspond
to more general differences between the prevalent philosophies of higher
education in their respective countries. While the neo-humanists in
Germany advanced the ideal of education as cultivation and as a quest for
self-realization, the successive post-revolutionary governments in France
were more likely to see higher education in terms of professional training.
Post-secondary education was supposed to be devoted primarily to the
specialized and technical training of doctors, lawyers, pharmacists,
engineers, officers, clergy, and teachers, rather than to the promotion of
broad learning or research.
This view of education as professional training meant that those areas
of knowledge which were not directly connected with some professional
field were not to be actively pursued in the higher educational establish-
ments. The development of the humanities was affected by this policy in
a particularly direct manner. The natural sciences were believed to be
instrumental in promoting social and economic progress, and received
public and governmental support, especially during the reign of Napoleon.
Although the mathematical, physical, chemical, and biological research
conducted by French scientists around 1800 was far from applied, the
veneration for Newtonian science and for technocratic ideals meant that
science was beginning to be treated as an independent profession. In
addition to fulfilling the need for scientific instruction in such specialized
professional schools as the Ecole Polytechnique, scientists, upon com-
pletion of their specialized training and apprenticeship, were employed by
the state as researchers in such institutions as the Bureau des Longitudes,
l'Observatoire, or the Museum of Natural History. Both Joseph Ben-David
and Maurice Crosland have argued that it was this professionalization of
scientific careers that contributed to the rapid growth of the natural
sciences in France in the first decades of the nineteenth century.12 How-
72 Chapter III
ever, the humanities (literature, classical and modern languages, history,

and philosophy) were not seen as positive sciences in which original
research could be pursued and eventually applied to the solution of
practical problems. The basically non-professional status of the humanities
was reflected in Napoleon's plans for an imperial university, in which the
facultes des lettres were to be responsible mainly for the testing of secondary
school students. In the emperor's opinion, most teaching of the humanities
was to be completed in the secondary schools. 13 Even though the govern-
ment occasionally sponsored research in the humanities (as in the case of
the Egyptian expedition), the widespread belief that the goal of education
was to prepare students for specific careers, together with the strict
distinction between the methods and aims of the natural sciences and those
of the belles-lettres, meant that in France the study of humanities was
regarded neither as a professional pursuit nor as an important element of
higher education.
The Organization of Teaching and Research
The differing philosophies of higher education in France and Germany

were reflected in different modes of organization of institutions of higher
learning and of their research. In this manner, the ideological differences
had an immediate and practical effect on the development of linguistics in
the two countries. The conditions which Ben-David regards as responsible
for the relative decline of the French natural sciences during the latter half
of the nineteenth century (as compared with their success in Germany) first
became visible in the contrasting development of the humanities in the first
part of the century. 14 In Germany, the development of the natural sciences
after 1850 followed the university patterns first established for such areas
as classical and German philology, and marginally also Sanskrit and
comparative linguistics; while in France, the relative decline of the natural
sciences during the same period was due to the same organizational
shortcomings that had earlier impeded the development of research in the
humanities.
In France, the equation of higher education with career training resulted
in an educational system composed of a number of specialized professional
schools: for officers, engineers, and administrators there were the Ecole
Polytechnique, the Ecole des Ponts et Chaussees, and the Ecole des Mines;
for secondary school teachers there was the Ecole Normale Superieure;
while the university was dominated by the faculties oflaw, medicine, and
pharmacy. There was even an Ecole Speciale des Langues Orientales
Vivantes designed to train translators for use in colonial administration.
The fact that it was dedicated to a practical task and limited to living
languages meant that the Ecole did not play an important role in the
development of comparative linguistics or Sanskrit philology. Although
some of its professors and directors (such as de Sacy, Langies, and much
later, A. Meillet) made important contributions to the development of
linguistics in France, their positions at the Ecole, where they taught living
languages to students planning administrative careers, were usually
secondary to the chairs they also held at the College de France or the
Sorbonne, or later at the Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes.
In the context of these professional schools, the function of university
arts faculties was not altogether clear; they examined /ycee students for the
baccalaureat, certified secondary school teachers by offering exams for the
license and aggregation, and awarded degrees up to and including the
doctorat d'etat required for university teaching. But faculty professors,
especially outside Paris, did not necessarily engage in research. In the
provinces the faculty was often composed of senior professors from the
nearby lycees, while in Paris it was originally made up of professors from
the College de France or the Ecole Polytechnique as well as the lycees. Even
those professors who did original research did not, as a rule, teach
specialized courses. Students often prepared for degree examinations on
their own and registered at the university just before their exams, while the
faculty professors lectured to a diverse and not altogether scholarly public.
Since faculties of letters were responsible for the training of lycee
teachers, those subjects that were not part of the secondary school
curriculum were generally not taught at the universities. The same limi-
tation on the curriculum was present at the Ecole Normale, which was also
dedicated to the preparation of teachers. 15 Since such non-traditional and
"exotic" fields as Sanskrit philology or comparative grammar were not
likely to become secondary school subjects, they were not included in the
university curriculum. Although the Sorbonne received its first chair of
comparative grammar as clearly as 1852 (for Charles Benoit Hase), for
many years it remained the only faculty in France which had a position for
either a comparative grammarian or a Sanskrit philologist, and there could
be little hope that new positions would be created.
74 Chapter III
In direct contrast, the German ideal of education as broad and scholarly

cultivation, and of learning as the pursuit of pure Wissenschaji, promoted
the development of the philosophical faculties. Like the Frenchfacultes des
lettres, the philosophical faculties in German universities in actual practice
were basically devoted to the training of teachers (and administrators); but
their different ideal of education meant that this professional training was
to remain subordinate to the transmission of scholarly values and the
research ethic:
Correspondingly, the organization of instruction in the philosophical faculty is completely

directed toward the cultivation of scholars. The philologist, the historian, the mathematician,
the physicist, all act as if they had before them in their lectures and seminars only future
scholars, only professors-to-be; they overlook in principle the fact that in reality the great
majority of their audience will follow the practical profession of teaching. Or rather, they don't
overlook this fact, they are convinced that the teacher can bring nothing better to his
profession than the cultivated attitude of a genuine scholar. 16
Thus, while the French arts faculty was marginal for the French system of
higher education, the philosophical faculties at German universities were
regarded as central, bearing the responsibility for the development of
humanities and natural sciences and for the education of the cultivated
classes. The increased importance of the lower faculty in Germany was
reflected in student enrollments: despite the fact that the overall number
of students remained stable during the middle third of the century, enroll-
ment in the philosophical faculties almost doubled during this period (from
2395 in 1831 to 4392 in 1866).17
The growth of the importance of the philosophical faculties in itself
allowed for the teaching of a greater variety of disciplines, but in addition,
the belief that the university should provide a broad humanistic education
and instill scholarly values meant that even marginal and esoteric fields,
fields that could lay no claim to practical utility, could nevertheless be
included in the curriculum.
Given the lack of any significant increase in the overall student popu-
lation until the 1860s, there was a reluctance on the part both of the faculty
and of the ministers to create new professorships; but the possibility of
adding chairs in non-traditional subject areas was not disputed and clearly
proved advantageous in the cases of Sanskrit studies, Oriental philology,
and comparative grammar. By 1867, the year of Bopp's death, there were
chairs in these fields at most German universities (with the exceptions of
Freiburg, Giessen, MUnster, and Rostock). There were also 16 chairs of

German philology and 7 of Romance and English philology, many of which
were held by scholars who did at least some of their work in comparative
or historical linguistics.
Perhaps the most important difference between organization of the
sciences in France and Germany concerned the relationships among
teaching, research, and career patterns. In the ideal neo-humanist uni-
versity, teaching and research were to be intimately connected, since the
value of learning lay as much in the process of discovery as in the
possession of knowledge. Moreover, teaching could be seen as an inter-
active process which by its very nature could lead to new discoveries:
The course ofleaming is obviously quicker and livelier at a university where it is constantly
rolled around in a large number of energetic, sturdy and youthful heads. In any event,
knowledge as knowledge cannot be properly presented without having it independently and
spontaneously accepted, and it would be incomprehensible if a great many discoveries did not
stem from such direct interaction. ls
This unification of research and teaching within the same institutional

setting allowed not only for direct and continuous transmission of knowl-
edge to new students and for practical apprenticeship in research for future
scholars; it also provided for the establishment of distinctly patterned
academic careers. The apprenticeship of a scholar often began with
itinerant university study. In addition to attending lectures, students could
participate in seminar exercises and expositions that provided direct
contact with more advanced and senior scholars engaged in teaching and
research in a given area. There were no separate seminars for comparative
grammar until late in the century; but the seminars that were organized
throughout the century in classics, and then also in Germanic, Romance,
and English philology, involved much comparative and historical linguistic
study. Georg Curtius' Grammatische Gesellschaft, created in 1876 in Leipzig,
functioned as the first truly linguistic seminar and contributed to the
success of comparative grammar in Leipzig by providing training to some
of the most distinguished linguists of the period and a home to the
Neogrammarian school. The seminar activities also helped aspiring
academics in the preparation of their doctorates, the first of two original
research works required before embarking on an academic career. Habili-
tation, the second of these works, allowed a young scholar to begin
lecturing at the university as a Privatdozent, while further research was to
76 Chapter III
serve as the basis for his nomination as an extraordinary, and then

ordinary, professor. Ideally, each successive step on the university career
ladder was to depend on the contributions to scholarship made by the
candidate for an academic post, as evaluated by his colleagues, and thus
research was to become a professional requirement intimately connected
with teaching and the transmission of knowledge.
Once professorships of Sanskrit philology and comparative linguistics
had been created in Bonn and Berlin, it could be expected that eventually
Bopp's and Schlegel's students who wrote theses on philological or com-
parative topics would be able to teach as Privatdozenten before assuming
special chairs at one of the German universities. Together, Bopp and
Schlegel trained a new generation of German Sanskritists and compara-
tivists: among Schlegel's students were such future comparatists as Pott,
Schleicher, and Curti us: and although Bopp could hardly be considered a
popular lecturer and his courses attracted only a few students each
semester, these students included a number offuture professors of Sanskrit
and comparative grammar, among them A. Pott (professor in Halle),
RUckert (Erlangen), Bohlen (Konigsberg), Stenzler (Breslau), Hofer
(Greifswald), Curtius (Leipzig), Aufrecht and Freytag (Bonn), DelbrUck
(Jena), Ebel and A. Weber (Berlin), and such foreigners as Breal and
Whitney. Thus the continuity of comparative grammar was assured, since
Bopp's and Schlegel's students contributed to linguistic studies not only by
conducting their own research but also by themselves training new gener-
ations of linguists.
The Neogrammarians, for example, who can be considered a third
generation of German comparativists, were mostly students of Schleicher
(in Jena) and Curtius (in Leipzig). The advantages of combining teaching
and research with organized academic careers are perhaps most clearly
visible in these scholarly genealogies of German professors.
The existence of twenty separate universities, often in competition with
one another, meant that this pattern of academic careers provided
opportunities for a number of scholars in a given field. There is evidence
that such competition among schools also played a role in the establish-
ment of new chairs of Sanskrit and comparative philology. Those who
proposed Bopp for a Sanskrit chair in WUrzburg in 1819 used the existence
of such a position in Bonn as an argument; 19 while several years later, after
Bopp had abandoned his hope of receiving a position in his native Bavaria,
they argued that the new university in Munich had to have a professor of
Oriental languages - and especially of Sanskrit - like every "big uni-
versity."20 Similarly, the dean of the philosophical faculty in Greifswald

argued in 1835 for the creation of a chair of comparative linguistics:
Ever since, thanks to the achievements of such men as Humboldt, Bopp and others, the
comparative study oflanguages has begun to attain the rank of an independent discipline, and
even, in the area of the original Indo-Germanic language base, to become worthy of the name
of linguistic science, separate teaching chairs for this subject have been established in all
Prussian and in most German universities, and only our Greifswald University alone, or
almost alone, has been without such a chair.21
It was certainly premature to claim in 1835 that comparative linguistics was

an autonomous discipline or that it was treated by a separate professor at
most German universities; but the very form of Schomann's appeal sug-
gests that competition and the desire to keep up with other universities
were thought to be powerful arguments for the establishment of chairs in
new fields.
There was one French institution, the Ecole Polytechnique, in which
advanced teaching was combined with original research, but the French
educational system in general did not actively encourage close links
between teaching and research, and it provided only limited opportunities
for academic careers in the humanities. Professors in thefacultes des lettres
did not concentrate on advanced teaching, while the research necessary for
the preparation of the doctorat d'etat, a prerequisite for a faculty chair, was
often done while the candidate was teaching at a lycee. Throughout most
of the century there were virtually no junior positions at the university
(unless one were to substitute for a senior scholar as a supp/eant), so that
teaching at the lycee might continue for a long period, only to be followed
by an appointment to a provincial faculty where scholars were more
responsible for examinations and testing than for serious teaching or
independent scholarship. Awaiting a vacancy at the Sorbonne or the
College de France could become a lifetime occupation.
It was this latter academic institution that offered the greatest opportuni-
ties for research in the humanities, especially in such non-lycee fields as
Sanskrit philology or comparative grammar. But the College de France was
an elite institution that employed only a few distinguished scholars, proven
authorities in their fields. It had neither junior positions nor regular
students. Some advanced teaching was conducted by the College profes-
sors; but lectures were open to the public, there were no entrance require-
ments, and no degrees or certificates were awarded, so that studying at the
78 Chapter III
College could provide only an informal supplement to regular education

and the formal rites of passage leading to an academic career.22 A young
scholar could collaborate closely with a professor at the College, but in
order to advance his career he had to pass examinations and write his
theses for the Faculty, where, before the 1880s, there was little speciali-
zation and advanced training.
Nevertheless, the College de France was instrumental in the early
development of Oriental studies in France. Since 1806 it had a chair of
Persian, held originally by Sacy, and in 1814 it received a special chair of
Sanskrit, the first of its kind in Europe, for Chezy. Together, Chezy and
Sacy taught Oriental languages to a number of European scholars; but
there were few Frenchmen among them, and Liard reported that "courses
of oriental languages were almost deserted."23 Windisch claimed that the
same lack of students plagued Chezy's successor at the College, Eugene
Burnouf:
Given Bumoufs great scientific importance, it is remarkable that he himself has had so few
students in France, although his lectures are famous. In a letter of February 1851 to his nephew
Emile Bumouf, he wishes that he had more French listeners to his explication of Schlegel's
Bhagavad-gita, since he spoke almost exlusively to foreigners. The reason for this is probably
the fact that outside of Paris there were no professorships for Sanskrit in all of France. 24
The difficulties facing French Sanskrit scholars resulted at least in part

from the organization of higher education, which throughout most of the
nineteenth century virtually excluded the possibility of new chairs of
Sanskrit or comparative grammar once such positions existed at the
College de France and the Sorbonne. The number of senior academic
positions in linguistics or Sanskrit was extremely small, and made even
smaller by the common practice of allowing a single scholar to hold a
number of chairs at different schools: Breal taught at the College, the
Sorbonne, and the Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, and Meillet also at
the Ecole des Langues Orientales. In addition, there were no opportunities
for the employment of younger linguists in positions involving research and
teaching, nor were there established career patterns to be followed by
scholars whose main interests did not form part of the standard lycee
curriculum. Attending lectures at the College - though they were delivered
by outstanding research scholars - could hardly be considered preparation
for a career; research seemed to be conducted mostly in private, inde-
pendently of professional occupations, and such a disjunction between
teaching, research, and career could assure no continuity for the develop-
ment of linguistics in France.
It should not be surprising that among French scholars critical of the
French educational system there were Orientalists and comparative gram-
marians well acquainted with German universities and German scholar-
ship. Eugene Burnouf and Michel Breal had studied in Germany, and both
Breal and Ernest Renan wrote extensively about the shortcomings of the
French universities. As members of the Societe pour l'etude des questions
d'enseignement superieur, they drafted, together with other scholars, a
"Project for the creation and organization of universities" which was
patterned to a considerable degree on German models. 2s
Breal also participated in the organization of an institution which was
to become a center oflinguistic research in France: he was the first director
of the fourth (philological and historical) section of the Ecole Pratique des
Hautes Etudes. The Ecole was created in 1868 to provide a location for
advanced teaching and original research. In addition to senior professor-
ships in various philological disciplines, including linguistics, it had a
number of junior positions, and thus it ameliorated the effects of some of
the major shortcomings of the French university system. The Ecole also
played an important role in the development of linguistics until well into
the twentieth century: Breal, Saussure, Meillet, Bergaigne, Levi,
Darmesteter, Martinet, Benveniste, and Vendryes all either taught or
studied there. However, as late as the first decade of the twentieth century,
a comparison of the number of doctoral dissertations in Sanskrit studies
and Indo-European linguistics at French and German universities reveals
the continuing advantage of the Germans at least in terms of productivity:
between 1906 and 1909 there appeared 15 German dissertations in the area
of Indian studies, as against only one French thesis; while in the area of
Indo-European linguistics, as against 10 dissertations emerging from
seminars in Heidelberg, Gottingen, Halle, Breslau, Marburg, Munster, and
Strassburg, there was only a single thesis written at the Ecole des Hautes
Etudes. 26
Linguistics and Philology: Modes of Institutionalization
Compared with the French educational system, the German universities

provided a hospitable organizational and ideological environment for the
80 Chapter III
development of Indo-European linguistics; but even within this environ-

ment the comparative grammarians encountered opposition directed
against their attempts to ensure the legitimacy of the new research area and
to define the sphere of their authority to make scientific judgments. Despite
the original compatibility between the idea system of comparative grammar
and neo-humanist educational philosophy, and despite the opportunities
for institutionalization which the philosophical faculties of the German
universities provided for fields such as Indo-European linguistics, the
process by which linguistics became a part of the university curriculum and
a legitimate research area did not occur without conflict. The source and
character of this opposition suggest that its causes were institutional as well
as cognitive, and that the questioning of the value of the new method and
the scientific legitimacy of its practitioners reflected the configuration of
forces within the university during the first half of the nineteenth century.
Conversely, the comparativists' response to their opposition and the
strategies they employed to neutralize or overcome it affected the manner
in which the linguists formulated the relationship of comparative grammar
to other disciplines - the manner in which they defined their field's sphere
of authority, its degree of autonomy, and its role in other areas of philologi-
cal research.
Opposition to comparative grammar came from a powerful group within
the philosophical faculties: the classical philologists. Numerically, they
constituted the largest disciplinary group in the lower faculty; and accord-
ing to neo-humanist philosophy, classical philology lay at the very heart of
university education. At the same time, the classicists were divided inter-
nally: defending the status of their discipline as a scientific (wissenschaftlich)
endeavor rather than a remnant of scholastic education, the classicists
engaged in continuous methodological arguments and disputes about the
task and goals of classical studies. Discussing the genesis of the "research
imperative" in the German universities, S. Turner wrote that
philology's interminable wars of method appear. .. as contests of professional legitimacy,

struggles to delineate the proper objectives of a professional science aborning. A renewed
concern with legitimacy and foundations characteristic of the preemption process appeared
in philologists' efforts to establish their discipline's institutional and philosphical independence
of theology, pedagogy, and philosophy and in their preoccupation with hermeneutics and
method.27
The most famous of these "wars of method" was waged between Gottfried
Hermann, a professor in Leipzig who advocated a strictly literary con-
ception of Greek and Roman Philology, and August Bockh in Berlin, who
saw his discipline as a holistic study of culture in its various manifestations.
Opposition to comparative grammar came largely but not exlcusively
from Hermann and his school. While philologists like Bockh and Ottfried
MUller were willing to accept the new method as a legitimate approach to
the study of language (which they regarded as only one among many
concerns of philology), Hermann's approach, which emphasized detailed
and formal study of literature and literary language, seemed to be more
directly affected by comparative grammar, and accordingly, Hermann
attacked comparative grammarians with scorn and ridicule for their inter-
est in "barbaric" languages. The idea that one might attempt to explain the
characteristics of ancient Greek or Latin by comparing them with an
Oriental language of the Brahmins or with remnants of Germanic texts
seemed nonsensical and even insulting, while the claim that Sanskrit was
less decayed and purer than the classical languages was nothing short of
blasphemy,z8 G. Curtius described the classicists' reaction to comparative
linguistics as one of mistrust and misunderstanding:
In the beginning comparative grammar was variously misunderstood; the etymology derived
from it, which is firmly based on established sound laws, was confused with earlier disreputa-
ble attempts of a kind that should rather be given the name of pseudology. Secure in its
possession of Rome and Greece, philology scorned the new science that promised enlighten-
ment from the barbaric Ganges. 29
Since comparative linguistics was a marginal field practiced by only a few

scholars and based on knowledge of an arcane language, it did not attract
enough informed attention and concern to merit a full-scale refutation.
Instead, jokes and barbs about the comparativists, about their wide-
ranging but shallow knowledge of languages or about their interest in
arcane and primitive languages and literary fragments were common
among classicists. 30 Even more common was the classicists' disregard for
the results of comparative research and for the methods developed by the
comparativists. Throughout the century, the comparativists complained
about the lack of attention to the linguistic information that comparative
grammar could provide to the study of classical languages. In 1821 Bopp
wrote to his teacher Windischmann describing his impressions of Berlin
and the reception he received there:
Little can be expected from the true Hellenists in this regard; they are too caught up in their
own circle and believe they are committing a sin against criticism if they direct their attention
82 Chapter III
elsewhere. But such things don't happen to them easily, and in this respect they are still living
in a paradise of innocence? 1
More than a quarter of a century later, in 1848, Georg Curtius repeated this
criticism of classical scholars:
But the indifference in which this science is held remains great, and many treat it rather as
an incidental thing that doesn't touch the inner sanctum of philology. As a result, the special
grammatical research of ancient languages, which always was recognized by philologists of
all persuasions as among the main tasks of philological activity, has scarcely been penetrated
by the new light. The masses of classical scholars still pay very little attention to comparative
works, even when they specifically treat classical languages. The great mob of grammars that
appears yearly is scarcely affected by comparison; others take up something half-understood
here and there and blithely mix together the results of historical and philosophical research;
still others continue to cling blindly to the old grammars and carry on in the limited and
meticulous - but scholarly - manner of treating ancient languages. 32
The classicists' reluctance to acknowledge the existence and value of

comparative grammar is understandable on both cognitive and social
grounds. Cognitively, as Ludo Rocher asserts, Sanskrit was not only seen
as an unlikely candidate for a relative of the classical tongues, but also,
since the comparative method required acquaintance but not necessarily
literary fluency in many languages, it seemed to encourage broad super-
ficiality at the expense of thoroughness. Moreover, the comparativists'
attention to morphology and phonology (rather than syntax) appeared
mechanical and soulless, robbing language of its meaning and expressive
possibilities. 33 But the philologists' disdain and disregard for comparative
grammar can also be interpreted as a result of their unwillingness to
concede to a different field the right to make authoritative judgments about
an area of expertise which they had always previously considered exclu-
sively their own. If, in order to study Greek and Latin grammar in what
the comparativists believed to be the only scientific way, it was necessary
to follow the methods developed by Bopp, Pott, and Grimm and to base
one's studies on Sanskrit, a language which only a few specialists could be
expected to master, then classical philologists would have to grant to the
Sanskritists and comparativists the legitimate right to evaluate at least
some of the classicists' own writings on linguistic issues. In view of Turner's
claim that disciplinary autonomy was an important factor in the develop-
ment of philology during the first decades of the nineteenth century (and
a dominant concern of the classicists during their "wars of method"), the
classicists' attempt to exclude comparative. grammar by ridiculing its

practitioners and disregarding their achievements can be seen as yet
another aspect of just such a striving for autonomy. Since by its very nature
the comparative method required continuous reference to a body of
knowledge that lay outside the purview of classical studies, it seemed to
endanger this autonomy in the most radical manner. Seen in this light, the
classicists' mockery of the idea that "enlightenment may come from the
Orient" becomes not only a reflection of their veneration for Greek and
Latin antiquity and an indication of a Western cultural bias, but also an
attempt to separate their field of study from external - and thus by
definition irrelevant or illegitimate - standards of evaluation. The fact that
the early comparativists and historical linguists were by and large not
classical scholars but Orientalists and Germanic philologists (and thus also
experts in areas which, during the early nineteenth century, had not yet
achieved full scientific legitimacy or institutionalization) must have
exacerbated the impression that outsiders, or perhaps even imposters,
were challenging the autonomy of classical studies. The status of the
comparative grammarians as outsiders also helps to explain why the
philologists responded to the new method with ridicule and disregard
rather than with an argued response and attempts at refutation: a challenge
coming from the outside, from a new and not yet established field, could
be treated in a manner different from that accorded internal differences of
opinion about the methods and proper concerns of classical studies. While
the latter required arguments considered to be rational and documented,
the former, judged as an illegitimate intrusion, could be dismissed with
mockery and neglect.
The option to disregard the other field was, however, unavailable to the
comparativists themselves, again for both cognitive and institutional
reasons. The very essence of the new linguistic method lay in the simul-
taneous analysis and comparison of many languages and their histories.
Given the antiquity of Greek and Latin, the rarity of original texts and their
central position within the Indo-European linguistic family, classical
languages had to play a prominent role in comparative linguistics even
though they had previously been considered the exclusive subject of
classical philology. This cognitive overlap meant that the comparativists
had to trespass on classical territory, just as they had to work together with
Sanskrit, Germanic, and Romance philologists. But while these latter
fields, which were defining their areas of concern and establishing their
institutional structures at the same time as linguistics, relied on compara-
84 Chapter III
tive methodology and evidence from their own academic beginnings,

classical philology was an already established and institutionalized
academic discipline that had earlier developed its own definitions of
scholarship and evaluative criteria. Given their unavoidable cognitive
overlap with classical philology, which was recognized as the only fully
legitimate philological discipline, comparative linguists needed at least
implicit recognition of their legitimacy from the classicists. This recog-
nition, the ackowledgement by the classicists that the new methods of
explaining linguistic forms and their historical changes were applicable also
to Greek and Latin, could come about in two ways. Either comparative
grammar would be granted the status of an independent academic
discipline with the authority to address certain problems previously con-
sidered the terrain of classicists, or it could be incorporated into classical
philology and become a specialty of individual classicists as well as a field
of expertise of Oriental, Germanic, and Romance scholars.
These two modes in which linguistics could have been institutionalized
required different strategies of development from its practitioners; for
them, this was a choice of identity that could influence later cognitive
development as well as other institutional issues.
As practitioners of an independent discipline, linguists would form a
relatively autonomous scientific community whose members would define
themselves (and be defined by others) as comparative grammarians; by and
large, they would claim exclusive expertise only in comparative grammar,
without engaging in other types of research and without making any
simultaneous claims to authority in neighboring disciplines. They would
strive for the creation of separate chairs of comparative linguistics, publish
their research primarily in specialized journals refereed by other compara-
tivists, and maintain only relatively minor links with scholars in other fields.
If, however, comparative grammar were to become institutionalized not as
a single area of study, but within the various separate philological fields,
it would be the scholars in these fields, rather than comparative
grammarians, who would serve as a primary reference group for the com-
parativists. Many of them would do non-comparative research in their
special fields of philological competence, and they would be seen as experts
not only in comparative grammar, but also in Oriental (or Slavic or
Classical) philology. Those engaged in linguistic research would hold chairs
in various branches of philology and not seek to establish an independent
identity.
In practice, these two modes of institutionalization are not mutually

exclusive, and to some extent they always co-exist: no discipline is an
island, entirely autonomous from its neighbors, and none is so well-
integrated internally as to exclude specializaton, division of expertise, and
subdisciplinary clusters of scientists sharing similar research interests. But
since, in the case of comparative linguistics, the unity of the field intself
hung in the balance, it is possible to identifY significant differences between
the two modes of institutionalization described here in terms of ideal types:
linguistics could either become a separate discipline or it could be parti-
tioned out among a number of philological fields, maintaining only a
minimal degree of methodological unity.
The first of these options required not only a confrontation between
comparative grammarians and classical philologists over their respective
spheres of competence, but also the separation of comparative linguistics
from Oriental and Germanic philologies, i.e., from new academic disci-
plines in which linguistics played an important role and which were gaining
legitimacy at the same time as comparative grammar.
The second option depended on the ability of the comparativists to
penetrate classical philology and to convince at least some of its practi-
tioners that comparative studies oflanguage offered a valid approach to the
study of Greek and Latin. Although this second option required that
linguistics forfeit some of its autonomy by being incorporated into the
existing framework of philological approaches, it also offered linguistics
greater opportunities for growth. Given the tradition of only one full
professorship per discipline in each university, any attempt to institu-
tionalize linguistics as an independent discipline would automatically
restrict comparativists to at most twenty, and probably fewer, university
positions (there were only twenty universities, and smaller schools did not
have chairs in minor fields). On the other hand, the attempt to maintain
links between comparative grammar and the various philological areas
enlarged the number of university chairs potentially available to the
practitioners of comparative grammar. Moreover, the strategy of "infil-
tration" assured the comparativists of access to relatively large numbers of
students attracted by the various philological areas. 34
The advantages of the strategy of "infiltration" did not prevent some
comparative grammarians from advocating that linguistics be an inde-
pendent discipline. For example, August Schleicher argued that the science
of language (which he called Glottik) was a natural science and as such
should be totally distinct from philological studies, which he counted
86 Chapter III
among the humanistic (geisteswissenschaftliche) disciplines. Schleicher

argued that the philosophical and methodological differences between
linguistics and philology were fundamental, and presumably this meant
that they should be separately institutionalized.
Tendencies toward the institutionalization of linguistics as a separate
field - and also the difficulties these tendencies encountered - can also be
seen in the repeated attempts to publish an exclusively linguistic journal
that would encompass all of comparative grammar. A. Hofer, professor in
Greifswald, tried to publish such a journal in 1844, the Zeitschrijt fur die
Wissenschaft der Sprache, but he failed to continue its publication after the
appearance in 1852 of Kuhn's Zeitschrijt fur vergleichende Sprachforschung
auf dem Gebiete der Deutschen, Griechischen, und Lateinischen Sprachen.
Although Kuhn's ZeitschriJt was exclusively comparative, as its title indi-
cates, it was also limited to three linguistic areas: Greek, Latin, and
Germanic. Beginning in 1856, Kuhn, together with Schleicher, began
publishing the Beitriigefur vergleichende Sprachforschung auf dem Gebiete der
Arischen, Celtischen, und Slawischen Sprachen, which was to be devoted to
the areas not covered by the Zeitschrijt. This separation can be seen as in
part a reflection of the continued dependence of comparative linguistics on
philological divisions. It was only in 1876, when the two journals merged,
and again in 1877, when Bezzenberger began editing his Beitriige zur Kunde
der Indogermanischen Sprachen, that truly comprehensive (and yet exclu-
sively comparative) journals began to be published. Significantly, 1876 was
also the year in which the Neogrammarian school made its first appear-
ance, an event that marked a change in the patterns of institutionalization
in linguistics.
Efforts to establish comparative grammar as an independent discipline
were, however, not as common and persistent as attempts to integrate it
with various philological fields. This possibility of institutionalizing com-
parative grammar as a subfield of Oriental, Germanic, or Classical
philology was evident from the beginning of the nineteenth century. The
early linguists routinely engaged in other types of philological research:
editing, literary criticism, folklore studies, history, etc. No less a figure than
Bopp was known as much for his editions of Sanskrit texts as for his
pioneering comparative studies; and the founders of Romance and
Germanic philologies, Jakob Grimm and Friedrich Diez, combined literary
and folklore studies with the writing of historical grammars, etymologies,
and other works informed by comparative principles. For many years,
those who taught or did research in comparative grammar occupied chairs
in Sanskrit philology and comparative linguistics, or, less commonly, of

comparative linguistics combined with some other philological discipline.
The rarity of the latter case was due mostly to the small number of
nonclassical philological chairs during the first half of the century. Separate
professorships devoted exclusively to Indo-European linguistics were an
exception before the 1880s. Only Pott had held such a chair in Halle since
1833, and even Schleicher, who saw linguistics as a separate discipline, was
a professor of comparative linguistics and German philology when he
taught in Jena towards the end of his life.
In other words, the continuing association of comparative research with
other philological areas reaffirmed the pattern of institutionalization
according to which comparative grammar was viewed as an aspect of
philological "area studies."
The strategy of "infiltration" was supported by arguments according to
which comparative grammar provided linguistic and literary studies with
breadth and the necessary historical background for all kinds of philologi-
cal research, while the scholarly editing and critical analyses of literary
texts conducted by the philologists were indispensable for comparative
linguistic studies. The integration of comparative grammar and philology
was most visible in the areas of Oriental, Germanic, Romance (and later
Slavic, English, and Celtic) philologies, but the arguments promoting the
philological usefulness of comparative grammar were made most emphati-
cally with reference to classical philology, since it was there that linguistics
encountered the greatest resistance.
Georg Curtius, who is often credited with alleviating this anti-compara-
tive bias among classicists, argued repeatedly that comparative grammar
was inseparable from other studies of classical cultures, and that the
knowledge gained by comparative methods provided the best and the only
truly scientific basis for the teaching of Greek and Latin:
Classical philology has the beautiful but practical calling of preserving the culture of Greeks
and Romans and of inculcating it ever anew to the coming generations. This can and should
happen only on the basis of stronger and more exact knowledge of languages. Without
abandoning other aspects of classical antiquity, the learning oflanguages is the most important
aspect of the philological practice. This learning of languages can be more attractive to the
teacher and more fruitful to the student when it is based on the spirit and meaning oftoday's
science of language. 35
Curtius' belief that comparative grammar should become an integral part

of classical philology found expression not only in his programmatic
88 Chapter III
inaugural lectures and in his own research, but also in his attempt to base
language instruction on the insights provided by comparative linguistics. In
a Greek grammar intended for use as a secondary school textbook, Curtius
incorporated elements oflinguistics and followed the principles established
by historical analyses of Greek.
The claim that language teaching could be improved by the introduction
of comparative methods and principles can be seen as an expression of
Curtius' scholarly opinions about the best pedagogical methods, but it was
also a means of expanding interest in linguistics and of attracting a larger
number of students. Since a majority of those studying classical philology
at the university level envisioned careers as Gymnasium teachers of Greek
and Latin, the introduction of comparative approaches into language
instruction would necessarily be reflected in an increase of attendance at
comparative lectures. Such an increase could become permanent if a
knowledge of comparative grammar and of the historical development of
the classical languages were to become a requirement for the state exami-
nation certifYing Gymnasium teachers of classics. This level of institu-
tionalization was not achieved in classical philology, however, even though
a "sound knowledge of the historical development oflanguage" and of "the
scientific foundations of grammar" was required for the state exams in
Germanic, Romance, and English philologies. 36
Even without this requirement, the institutionalization of linguistics
through its association with classical philology was advantageous for its
development in the long run. As opposed to Sanskrit philology, classics was
a central field of study in German universities in the nineteenth century,
and this allowed for a wider dissemination of comparative ideas and
methods. While comparativists such as Bopp continued to attract only a
few students, Curtius was one of the most popular lecturers in Leipzig. His
success as a teacher of classics carried over also to his purely linguistics
comparative courses. E. Windisch, Curtius' biographer, records that
Curtius' course on Greek grammar occasionally attracted over 250
students, while his "Introduction to Comparative Linguistics" drew as
many as 231. 37 And while Curtius' popularity must be attributed in part to
his personal qualities as a lecturer, the fact that he taught Greek and Latin,
languages with which fvery university graduate had to be familiar (rather
than Sanskrit), must have contributed to his success in the dissemination
of comparative grammar. Curtius' Grammatische Gesellschaji, a prototype
of a linguistic seminar, and the periodical he edited, Studien zur griechischen
und lateinischen Grammatik, were also based on the idea of a strong
connection between classical philology and comparative grammar; and

they offer further evidence of the success of Curtius' strategy of "infil-
tration". Between 1867 and 1885, some 600 students participated in the
activities of the GeselischaJt, while the Studien provided a convenient outlet
for doctoral dissertations and other works in comparative and historical
linguistics. 38
In summary, comparative grammar became a legitimate research area
only gradually; this legitimacy was achieved not as a result of demands for
autonomy or for independent disciplinary identity, but by the incorporation
of comparative methods into various philological disciplines. This incor-
poration proceeded smoothly in the case of Oriental, Germanic, and
Romance philologies, but met with opposition from the more established
classicists, whose recognition of the new field was essential if comparative
linguistics was to achieve legitimacy. A classicist himself, Georg Curtius
successfully integrated comparative grammar with classical studies, and
this occurred not only because he helped eliminate the opposition of his
fellow classicists to comparative studies, but also because classics, as a
central discipline at the university, provided a convenient vehicle for the
full introduction of comparative grammar into the university curriculum.
In addition to the recognition of legitimacy expressed, for example, by the
philologists' referral oflinguistic questions to the expertise of the compara-
tivists, the strategy of "infiltration" led to the wider dissemination of
philological disciplines. But the same incorporation that allowed for the
institutional expansion of linguistics (in the form of access to a number of
new chairs, periodical publications, and students) also threatened the unity
of the idea system of comparative and historical linguistics, and this could
eventually undermine the links maintained between comparativists
engaged in research in different philological areas.
CHAPTER IV
THE NEOGRAMMARIAN DOCTRINE
In 1878, two young German linguists, Karl Brugmann and Hermann

Osthoff, published the first volume of a series entitled Morphologische
Untersuchungen auf dem Gebiete der Indogermanischen Sprachen. The
"Preface" to this volume is generally regarded as a manifesto of the then
new school oflinguistics, the Neogrammarians (Junggrammatiker). Osthoff
and Brugmann decried "the fundamental errors which dominated the entire
older liguistics;" 1 and they insisted that "only that comparative linguist who
for once emerges from the hypotheses-beclouded atmosphere of the work-
shop in which the original Indo-European forms are forced, and steps into
the clear air of tangible reality ... can arrive at a correct idea of the way in
which linguistic forms live and change ... "2 According to Osthoff and
Brugmann, this new beginning in linguistics received its initial impulse from
the work of Wilhelm Scherer and August Leskien, and was carried on in
their own work and that of other young linguists to whom they refer
collectively as the Neogrammarian Movement (die junggrammatische
Richtung). The "Preface", which also formulates "the most important
principles of the neogrammarian movement,"3 was followed by several
other more extended statements of Neogrammarian principles, especially
Hermann Paul's Prinzipien der Sprachgeschichte (1880) and Berthold
Delbruck's Einleitung in das Sprachstudium (1880).4 Together, these works
generated one of the most intense and stormy controversies in the history
of linguistics. Polemical reviews of the "Preface" to the Morphologische
Untersuchungen appeared as early as 1879,5 but the climax of the debate
occurred in 1885-86, when attacks and counter-attacks were published in
quick succession. 6
Ostensibly, the controversy centered on the related issues of the regu-
larity of sound change and of the role of analogical formations in linguistic
change. Of the two fundamental principles of the movement formulated in
the "Preface," one dealt with analogy and the other with sound laws. The
debate that followed is occasionally called the Lautgesetz (sound law)
controversy, and the very titles of some of the major writings of the period
bear witness to the importance of this problem in the minds of the
proponents and opponents of Neogrammarian doctrine. 7 Several other
90
The Neogrammarian Doctrine 91
issues were also subjects of disagreement, among them the nature and
development of Indo-European vocalism and the character of the original
Indo-European language. Collitz and Osthoff participated in a rather bitter
priority dispute over the discovery of the Law ofPalatals. 8 And, as in many
controversies in science, while some argued over the correctness of the
Neogrammarian doctrine, others questioned the originality of the
Neogrammarians, accusing them of noisy proclamations of long-estab-
lished and generally recognized principles. 9
This last issue reappears under a different guise in many modern
histories of linguistics. Under the impact of Kuhn's interpretation of
scientific development in terms of changing scientific paradigms, modern
historians oflinguistics are often preoccupied with the question of whether
or not the Neogrammarian controversy marks a revolution in linguistics,
and ifso, how the Neogrammarian paradigm is different from the preceding
one. \0 If, however, we are interested in understanding the processes of
cognitive change, the question of whether or not the emergence of the
Neogrammarian idea system was an example of a scientific revolution does
not appear particularly important. Not only do we have no criteria enabling
us to decide whether a particular cognitive change involves a paradigm
change or not, but describing the process in such terms tells us little about
the dynamics of cognitive change. Instead, we might want to ask: a) what
was the nature of the Neogrammarian innovations and what prompted the
Neogrammarians to propose them? and b) what cognitive continuities
characterize the shift to the N eogrammarian idea system and what was
their justification?
In Chapter II,· I proceeded on the assumption of the openness of
scientific idea systems, i.e., on the assumption that the various philosophi-
cal, theoretical, methodological, and substantive ideas that comprise such
a system are not perfectly integrated among themselves; they do not form
a complete and ultimately consistent whole. The early rearrangements of
the linguistic idea system and the partially independent development of
linguistic methodology lend some support to this initial assumption. At the
same time, however, the notion that scientific doctrines are open systems
makes sense only if, in addition to demonstrating their openness, we can
also argue that their elements are in fact interdependent, and that when
scientists become aware of tensions, contradictions, and inconsistencies,
they strive to eliminate them. As we have seen, the innovations and
readjustments introduced into the idea system of the early comparative
grammarians resulted in the lack of integration and eventually in the
92 Chapter IV
emergence of tensions and contradictions between the methodological

practices of the second generation of comparative grammarians and their
philosophical and theoretical beliefs. These tensions and contradictions
became visible only as the initial philosophical justifications of the linguistic
idea system lost their relevance. It is against this background of changes
in the climate of intellectual opinion and of tensions between theories,
methodologies, and philosophical assumptions within the idea systems of
Schleicher and Curtius that the emergence of the idea system of the new
school of thought will be examined here.
The Neogrammarian Inheritance: Linguistic Methodology
Large-scale shifts in scientific perspective are often associated with the

exhaustion of the capacity of the then- current doctrines to generate new
research problems that can be solved successfully within the existing
framework. 11 This certainly was not the situation of historical and com-
parative linguistics when the Neogrammarians announced their dissatis-
faction with the practices of earlier comparativists. The emergence of the
new school coincided with a great rush of new linguistic discoveries.
During the 1860s and 70s many new sound laws were established and
many old laws were reformulated and made more precise. In 1863
Hermann Grassmann discovered a law governing the distribution of
aspirates in Sanskrit and Greek. In the early seventies, Graziadio Isaia
Ascoli reported on his work on the guttural series of sounds in the
Indo-European languages, which led in the mid-seventies to the simul-
taneous discovery of the Law of Palatals by many scholars: Vilhelm
Thomsen, Essais Tegner, Hermann Collitz, Karl Verner, Johannes
Schmidt, and Ferdinand de Saussure. In 1875, Karl Verner wrote an article
entitled "An Exception to the First Sound Shift," in which he reformulated
Grimm's Law and disposed of a large group of its remaining unexplained
exceptions. A year later, Karl Brugmann published an article on the
"nasalis sonans" which, together with the work of Arthur Amelung,
Johannes Schmidt, Hermann Collitz, Hermann Osthoff, Saussure, and
others, led to the establishment of new sound laws in the history of
Indo-European vocalism and to the complete transformation of current
beliefs about the original vowel system. These discoveries were systemat-
ized and developed further by Ferdinand de Saussure in his Memoire sur
Ie systeme primitif de voyelles dans les langues indo- europeennes (1879).
This last series of discoveries, dealing with Indo-European vocalism,

constituted progress in one of the most recalcitrant areas of historical and
comparative linguistics. Members of the new school (e.g., Brugmann) were
responsible for advances in this area; but important contributions to the
solution of this problem were also made by some of the most outspoken
critics of the Neogrammarians (e.g., Collitz). Moreover, although there
were disagreements about the new descriptions of the system of proto-
Indo-European vowels, these disagreements did not coincide with school
divisions. For example, Curtius, when he initiated the "battle of pamphlets"
over the Neogrammarian principles in 1885-1886, was already convinced
that Brugmann's proof of the existence of nasal vowels in proto-Indo-
European was essentially correct (although he had earlier disputed this).
But he questioned the correctness of the Law of Palatals which was
discovered simultaneously by several scholars, some of whom were
opposed to the N eogrammarians. At the same time, Hermann Osthoff, one
of the leading Neogrammarians, criticized Saussure's Memoire even
though, at that time, Saussure subscribed to the major tenets of the new
doctrine. 12
Why, then, did a new school of linguistics develop in a period of rapid
advances in the discipline? Why did it generate such a heated controversy?
What were the grounds of the Neogrammarians' claim that they had
initiated radical changes in linguistics? If these changes did not affect the
evaluations made by linguists of many of the new results of historical and
comparative linguistics, then which areas of linguistic doctrine did they
affect? Full answers to some of these questions must be postponed pending
an examination of the social and institutional conditions in which the
Neogrammarian school developed. Here we examine only the cognitive
determinants of the development of the Neogrammarian doctrine, and try
to provide some explanations of how the continuities and discontinuities
between the Neogrammarians and their predecessors were affected by
previous developments in linguistics and by the ongoing changes in the
intellectual climate of opinion.
We have seen that the development of linguistic methodology based on
the idea of regular phonetic changes was not integrated with the philosophi-
cal and theoretical beliefs of the comparative grammarians and occasion-
ally came into conflict with them. Lack of coherence between these
elements of the doctrine culminated in the Neogrammarian "revolution,"
whose direction was in part determined by contemporary developments in
linguistic research and by changes in philosophical perspectives at the end
94 Chapter IV
of the nineteenth century. Developments within linguistics allow us to

account for the continuities and the nature of the disagreements between
the Neogrammarians and their predecessors; but changes in the wider
intellectual climate suggested solutions to these problems and indicated the
direction of the transformation of linguistic theory.
The Neogrammarians are remembered for their insistence on the
principle of the exceptionless character of sound laws, and their innova-
tions are often portrayed as largely methodological (e.g., by Pedersen). The
Neogrammarians themselves often emphasized this aspect of their
doctrine. In the "Preface" to their Morphologische Untersuchungen,
Brugmann and Osthoff asserted that the methodology of linguistics must
rely on the acceptance of two principles:
First, every sound change, inasmuch as it occurs mechanically, takes place according to laws
that admit no exceptions. That is, the direction of the sound shift is always the same for all
the members of a linguistic community except where a split into dialects occurs: and all the
words in which the sound subjected to the change appears in the same relationship are affected
by the change without exception.
Second, since it is clear that form association, that is the creation of new linguistic forms
by analogy, plays a very important role in the life of the more recent languages, this type of
linguistic innovation is to be recognized without hesitation for older periods too, and even for
the oldestY
These two principles, if we compare them with previous statements of

linguistic methodology, seem rather improbable as the source of one of the
stormiest controversies in the history of linguistics.
What is the difference between the Neogrammarians and their teachers,
Curtius and Schleicher, who ever since the 1850s had been advocating
sound laws and analogical formations as the basis of the methodology of
linguistics? In his article on the importance of sound laws, Curtius claimed
that "For linguistic research two such fundamental concepts are of the
highest importance, that of analogy and that of sound laws." 14 And, as we
have seen, Schleicher repeatedly insisted that linguistic decay is governed
by laws, and that analogy and sound laws are the two explanatory
principles of linguistic change. It might be argued that Schleicher did not
explicitly claim that sound laws admit no exceptions, and that Curtius
specifically admitted a distinct category of sporadic sound change. But it
is difficult to see these differences as methodologically significant: both
Schleicher and Curtius tried to describe as many changes as possible as
regular sound shifts which could be subsumed under laws. True, the
Neogrammarians put greater stress on analogy as a means of explaining
otherwise "irregular" changes, and they saw it as operative also in early
periods of development. Analogical formations were important in the
Neogrammarian theory of language and language change, but as far as
methodology was concerned, analogy still remained only an additional
explanatory principle. There were no independent criteria to establish
when analogical change had taken place; and since the Neogrammarians
insisted on the completeness of explanation and did not admit sporadic
sound changes, they used analogy to account for those cases where sound
change did not follow a known law.
This lack of a decisive methodological divergence on the part of the
Neogrammarians was noticed during the 1878-1886 controversy. Some of
those who saw the Neogrammarian principles as basically methodological
rules viewed the new doctrine as identical with the existing consensus in
comparative grammar, or at most an extension of it. Thus, the claims of
the Neogrammarians that the discipline of linguistics was entering a new
era were often dismissed as baseless boasting. For G.I. Ascoli, the claims
of the Neogrammarians were empty exaggerations and noisy or audacious
proclamations of long-recognized principles:
I do not wish to be thought paradoxical or stubborn, but I must return once again to the fact
that the very merits by which the Neogrammarians have distinguished themselves are an
indirect proof that there can be no question here of a revolution, nor even of a substantial
innovation in principles or method. Because these merits are not based at all on any newly
introduced doctrine, nor do they involve any previously unknown techniques of investigation
or presentation of evidence. 15
Similarly, Johannes Schmidt argued repeatedly that the Neogrammarians

were followers of Schleicher and that the new method they claimed to have
originated was really Schleicher's method. Schmidt wanted to demonstrate
to what extent the linguistic researchers of today ... owe precisely to Schleicher the recognition
that it is not from themselves but from him that the new formulation of the method of linguistic
science derives, the very issue which differentiates the new works from the earlier ones. 16
The methodological similarity between the Neogrammarians and their

predecessors and opponents is still being argued today. Sometimes it is
used as a means of denying that the Neogrammarian doctrine marks a
96 Chapter IV
paradigm change in linguistics. Thus, Paul Kiparsky argues that since many
of the sound laws proposed in the seventies were discovered by the
opponents as well as the adherents of Neogrammarian principles, there
was no radical paradigmatic discontinuity between the warring groups of
linguists. It is a non sequitur, however, to argue that if there is no
methodological difference between two groups of scientists, then there is
no significant difference between them at all. Such a view reflects a
technocratic attitude toward science, since it presupposes that philosophi-
cal and theoretical differences between scientists are irrelevant unless they
lead to different methodological rules and different results. What is over-
looked is that the interpretation of these results, and their significance, are
constrained by the specific theoretical and philosophical framework within
which they are viewed.
With these ramifications in mind, let us examine in greater detail
Kiparsky's argument about the methodology of the Neogrammarians.
Kiparsky identifies the Neogrammarians' methodology with their principle
of exceptionless sound laws, and shows that the discovery of numerous new
sound laws was not dependent on the acceptance of this principle; linguists
who rejected the Neogrammarian position on this issue were responsible
for the discovery of numerous important sound laws:
There exists a most regrettable myth that the belief in the necessarily exceptionless sound
change accounts for the discovery of the many new sound laws in the 1860s and 1870s. For
example, Bloomfield attributes Grassmann's discovery to this belief, and similarly, Verner's
discovery. But neither Grassmann nor Verner in fact believed that sound changes can have
no exceptions. And why did linguists who explicitly rejected the neogrammarian theory of
sound change, once it had been formulated in the 1870s, discover sound laws which were just
as significant as those dicovered by the neogrammarians, such as Brugmann, Osthoff, and
Leskien?17
Kiparsky is essentially right: to search for sound laws, a linguist must

believe that phonetic change is, on the whole, regular; he need not believe
that there are no exceptions to this regularity. An overwhelming majority
of linguists in the sixties and seventies believed that sound change was
regular, and searched for sound laws accordingly. Curtius and Schleicher
argued that regular sound change should constitute the major methodologi-
cal standard of comparative and historical linguists. The Neogrammarian
principle of exceptionless sound laws required no major changes in
methodology, and the insistence of the Neogrammarians on this strong
formulation was not motivated by practical, methodological reasons. But

to argue that two groups of scientists share a similar methodology is not
the same as to argue that their entire idea systems are the same.
The simultaneous and independent discovery of the Law of Palatals
provides an especially strong argument for the methodological similarity
between the N eogrammarians and their opponents. This discovery, which
demonstrates that the palatalization of Sanskrit velars is dependent on the
following vowel, and which was also considered a proof that the Indo-
European vowel system must have contained the vowel e, was, as we have
noted, made independently by Tegner, Thomsen, Verner, Schmidt, Collitz,
and Saussure. Among this group of scholars were some who adopted the
Neogrammarian position on sound laws (Saussure and Schmidt) and some
who did not (Verner and Collitz).ls
Although the Neogrammarians, on the whole, used the same compara-
tive methods as their predecessors, they attempted to remove some of the
tensions and contradictions between their reliance on sound laws and the
agglutination theory. As we saw in the previous section, research into the
nomothetic character of linguistic decay had led linguists to posit regular
sound laws, while the effort to reconstruct the original forms and meanings
of roots as they existed prior to decay had made it necessary to posit
sporadic sound changes. The Neogrammarians inherited from Schleicher
the belief that sound change is regular, and they strengthened it by claiming
that it admits no exceptions. But in order to resolve the conflict with
agglutination theory, they gave up the attempt to reconstruct the original
perfect language. This "renunciation" resolved the tensions between the
historical study of language change as a nomothetic process (and thus,
according to the Neogrammarians and Curtius, subject to scientific investi-
gation) and the demands placed on the reconstruction of forms by the
agglutination theory. The change in the goals of reconstruction did not
involve an outright rejection of the agglutination theory. The
Neogrammarians saw this theory as highly probable, but they renounced
attempts to prove it by reconstructing original forms which would agree
with it. Delbruck argued that "the principle of agglutination is the only one
which furnishes an intelligible explanation of the forms," 19 and Brugmann
called the derivation of verbal suffixes from personal pronouns "very
probable."20 However, both of them argued that given the present state of
knowledge it was impossible to prove the agglutination theory, and they
rejected such a proof as a goal of reconstruction. The N eogrammarians saw
98 Chapter IV
the agglutination theory as an unprovable hypothesis which had no place

in positive science:
The realistic age which prefers to hold itself aloof from things which cannot be known, has
become more and more conscious of the hypothetical nature of such analysis, and we can
accordingly assert that among a not inconsiderable number of philologists, all g1ottogonic
hypotheses, i.e. all attempts to explain the forms of the parent speech and to build up a history
of inflection upon them, have come into disfavor. 21
Instead of trying to discover the hypothetical original roots and the origins
of inflection, the goal of reconstruction should be to arrive at the oldest
attestable form of Indo-European and to trace its phonetic and analogical
transformations through the history of individual languages. The question
asked by the Neogrammarians was no longer "What is the original form
and how did it decay?" but "What is the oldest form we can reconstruct
and how did it change?" Johannes Schmidt, a linguist who accepted the
Neogrammarian principles but doubted their originality, advocated this
"narrowing" of goals as the only scientifically justifiable strategy:
It is the task ofIndo-European linguistic science to demonstrate what the forms of the parent
speech were, and by what methods those of the individual languages have sprung from them.
We are in most cases as incapable of interpreting the significant value of the formative
elements which are affixed to the so-called root, and for the same reasons incapable, as the
one-sided Greek grammar was, of explaining the elements of Greek words. In this field the
recognition of ignorance increases from year to year, as befits a healthy science. 22
The abandonment of the goal of reconstructing the original language did

not, by itself, introduce any new methodological practices, but rather freed
the Neogrammarians to follow the established method of searching for
sound laws with greater consistency.23 But the opinion that the agglutina-
tion theory is unprovable might have been involved in the
Neogrammarians' insistence that linguists should examine the histories of
entire words, and not histories of each root or suffix independently of the
words to which it belonged. As long as the reconstruction of the original
perfect language was the ultimate goal of research, linguists were obviously
interested in the histories of roots, not words. After all, according to the
agglutination theory the original language had a minimum of mor-
phophonemic variation and was composed of distinct roots expressing
meanings and relations. Once the Neogrammarians abandoned their
efforts to prove the agglutination theory and to reconstruct the original

language, individual roots lost their significance, and a certain kind of
empiricism, or fear of imposing "artificial" or "abstract" scientific cate-
gories on phenomena, asserted itself instead. The Neogrammarians
believed that roots, suffixes, etc., are grammatical abstractions which might
be helpful as heuristic devices, but which should not be reified into
naturally existing entities. Anyone studying language should study it as it
is spoken - with words. The previous practice was unjustified because it
is words, and not separate suffixes, roots, etc., which are transmitted from
generation to generation of speakers. The new method was advocated in
1876 by August Leskien, a linguist also credited by the Neogrammarians
with having for the first time articulated the principle of Ausnahmslosigkeit
der Lautgesetze. On the first page of his book Die Deklination im Slawisch-
Litauischen und Germanischen, Leskien wrote:
Declension, i.e., the fixed bonding of roots with certain case-forms, was complete before the
split of Indo-European. The comparative grammar of a single group of these languages is
therefore not concerned with the origins of case suffixes, or with the presumably oldest form
and original meaning, but rather with the structure and history of word forms that have
resulted from this bonding of stem and case-suffixes ... 24
Similar arguments were advanced by Hermann Paul, who criticized the

previous practice of "dissecting" words as artificial and unjustifiable, and
by Berthold Delbriick, who argued like Leskien that already in the period
of common Indo-European there were words and not separate roots and
suffixes, and thus that it is words and not roots which change in trans-
mission.25 According to Hermann Hirt, the Neogrammarians' insistence
that linguists deal with histories of entire words (rather than separate roots,
suffixes, etc.) was instrumental in the discoveries of sound laws governing
the Indo-European Ablaut. 26 However, it seems that even in this respect
the Neogrammarians were not really diverging from the practices of other
linguists. After Verner's discovery, research into the role of accent in
phonetic change became very popular, and with this research came the
practice of studying entire words. It is difficult to determine the extent to
which the Neogrammarians, rather than their opponents, were responsible
for this change. At any rate, this new practice was not a subject of
controversy.
On the whole, the Neogrammarians did not really change linguistic
methodology to any great extent. Instead, they took up the methodological
100 Chapter IV
recommendations of their teachers and only strengthened the older formu-

lations by making them universally applicable and absolute: sound laws
were no longer simply regular, but also exceptionless; formations by
analogy occurred not only during the development of modern languages,
but also during prehistorical times. At the same time, they redefined the
goals of linguistics so as to avoid conflicts with the agglutination theory.
The Neogrammarians came into existence during a period of significant
empirical advances in the discipline, and, as we shall see later, at one of
the recognized centers of linguistic research. Accordingly, they did not
reject the methodology that was responsible for these advances. But the
very progress that had been made in historical and comparative studies of
languages brought to the fore the contradictions between linguistic
methodology and theories oflanguage development. Moreover, the justifi-
cations for the use of this methodology were seen as inadequate, since they
did not explain the mechanism of linguistic change but simply invoked the
need for a scientific approach to language. And so, the Neogrammarians
embarked on a search for a theory that would justify their methodology and
explain the process of language change. In this search they were guided by
the positivism and psychologism then prevalent in German academia.
We are faced here with a process of scientific change which can be
explained adequately neither in terms of the internal continuity of develop-
ment within a discipline nor in terms of radical shifts in the entire scientific
perspective. It appears instead that internal dynamic developments and the
ensuing tensions between various elements of the scientific doctrine led to
selective readjustments in that doctrine. The direction of these readjust-
ments was influenced by the current state of the discipline (in this case,
empirical successes through the application of the existing methodology),
by social factors (in this case, the central location of the Neogrammarians
and the need to have their empirical research legitimized by their
opponents), and by the wider intellectual currents. The next section of this
chapter discusses these influences and the changes introduced by the
Neogrammarians in their search for a linguistic theory adequate to their
inherited methodology.
A Method in Search of a Theory
The extensive methodological continuity between the Neogrammarians

and their predecessors can be contrasted with their wide-ranging theoreti-
cal innovations based on a new set of philosophical assumptions. If the
Neogrammarians' proclamations of methodological innovations were more
rhetorical than descriptive of their actual practice, nevertheless their
understanding of the nature oflanguage and of its history, their conception
of linguistics as a science, and their justifications of the adopted research
practice were new. The Neogrammarians built their theory oflanguage and
linguistic change in such a way that the methodology they inherited would
receive a modern justification, one consistent with their beliefs about the
nature of language and of science.
The philosophical beliefs of the Neogrammarians were based on late
nineteenth-century positivism with its strong empiricist and psychologistic
tendencies. It is, however, difficult to isolate exactly those strands of
positivism which the Neogrammarians adopted. The influence of positivist
philosophy was indirect, stemming more from psychology and the
"slogans" of the time than from a particular philosophical doctrine. Ironi-
cally, this lack of clear philosophical mentors is very much in agreement
with positivism itself, which through all its manifestations remained
resolutely anti-metaphysical. Accordingly, the Neogrammarians felt no
need to refer to any philosophy, since the "sciences," rather than
philosophy, were to serve as models. The Neogrammarians insisted that
science should avoid all metaphysics and refrain as much as possible from
abstractions. The concepts employed by scientists should be direct
reflections of the empirical reality under investigation, and since this reality
is either physical or mental, all scientific concepts should refer directly to
one of these two realms. The idea that scientific concepts should avoid
abstraction is clearly exemplified in the Neogrammarians' definition of
language. They identified language with human speech activity, which, like
all cultural phenomena, has a double aspect, both mental and physical.
This meant that linguistics must be based on an investigation of the
psychological and physiological processes which make speech possible.
The investigation of the physical aspect of speech activity - of the
articulation of sounds by the speech organs - is the province of articulatory
phonetics, a part of human physiology. The study of the mental aspects of
language - of the psychic processes involved in the individual's ability to
speak - must be based on the results achieved by experimental
102 Chapter IV
psychology?7 In this way, psychology and physiology came to be regarded

as auxiliary sciences for linguistics: the principles and the methodology of
comparative and historical linguistics were to be based on the solid
foundations of psychological and physiological knowledge.
The human speech mechanism has a twofold aspect, a mental and a physical. To come to a
clear understanding of its activity must be a main goal of the comparative linguist. For only
on the basis of a more exact knowledge of the arrangement and mode of operation of this
psychological mechanism can he get an idea of what is possible in language in general ...
Moreover, only through this knowledge can the comparative linguist obtain the correct view
ofthe way in which linguistic innovations, proceeding from individuals, gain currency in the
speech community, and only thus can he acquire the methodological principles which have
to guide him in all his investigations in historical linguistics. 28
The Neogrammarians translated their repeated assertions that physi-

ology and psychology of speech are indispensable for linguistics into a
demand for "a science of principles" (as Paul was to call it in 1880) which
in their view was not to be a philosophical discussion of the nature of
language, but rather an empirical description of the mechanisms of
linguistic usage and change. Philosophy has no role in positive science, but
all cultural and historical sciences have to incorporate knowledge gained
by empirical studies of the universal laws governing their subject.
This science of principles has to solve a difficult problem: How, under the assumption of
constant forces and relations, is a historical development still possible, or a progress from the
simplest and most primitive to the most complicated formulations? The effectual scrutiny of
the conditions of historical growth, taken together with general logic, gives at the same time
the basis for the doctrine of method, which has to be followed in the verification of each single
fact. 29
The assertion that in order to study change, linguistics has to rely on

knowledge of the unchangeable characteristics of language, might be
viewed as a first sign of the distinction between synchrony and diachrony
made later by Saussure and common to many twentieth-century schools
of linguistics. For the Neogrammarians, however, the distinction did not
affect linguistics proper, since, defining language as speech activity, they
saw the study of language states as a proper subject of physiology and
psychology rather than of linguistics. The subsequent incorporation of
synchronic studies oflanguage into linguistics might be interpreted in terms
of a shift in the definition of language (paralleled by a shift from history to
sociology as a model discipline in the social sciences), and in terms of the

growing institutional autonomy of the discipline of linguistics. I return to
these topics in subsequent chapters. For the Neogrammarians, as for their
predecessors, linguistics had to remain historical, and a knowledge of the
psychology and physiology of speech was to serve primarily as the
foundation of a proper methodological practice.
The rejection of the definition of language as an organism and the
adoption of a psychophysical conception oflanguage did not constrain the
Neogrammarians to introduce changes in what was to be the proper focus
of linguistic study. The Neogrammarians not only retained the belief that
all linguistics must be historical but they justified this choice in the same
manner as their predecessors. Paul justified the necessity of a purely
historical approach to language in the "Introduction" to his Prinzipien der
Sprachgeschichte:
It has been objected that there is another view of language possible beside the historical. I
must contradict this. What is explained as an unhistorical and still scientific study of language
is at bottom nothing but one incompletely historical, through defects partly of the observer,
partly of the material to be observed. As soon 3S we ever pass beyond the mere statements
of single facts and attempt to grasp the connexion as a whole, and to comprehend the
phenomena, we come upon historical ground at once ... 30
This statement by Paul is really no different from Schleicher's belief that

"if we do not know how something has become what it is, we do not know
what it is.''31 Both of these formulations are based on the philosophical
assumption that only causal explanations of phenomena are scientifically
adequate. It is not sufficient to describe a state without paying attention
to the processes which brought it about. The only valid explanation is
causal; and since languages change and evolve - as opposed to man's
unchanging physiological and psychological ability to speak - linguistics
must be historical.
But the change in the definition of the subject under investigation did
have repercussions on what was regarded as a permissible explanation.
Even if Paul and Schleicher agreed that an adequate explanation must be
causal (and in this context, it meant historical), they differed in their
conception of the factors which could be invoked in order to make this
causal explanation adequate. According to Schleicher, since language is a
natural organism, some of the laws governing its development are
immanent to language itself. Thus, language goes through its prehistoric
104 Chapter IV
development (i.e., the isolating, agglutinating, and inflectional stages)

without the influence of any external factors. In this sense, the isolating
stage is itself a cause of the agglutinating stage, etc. Similarly, the Sprach-
gefiihl is inherent in language itself and not a property of the human psyche.
But there are also external factors which, once the Sprachgefiihl wanes,
cause historical changes. The tendency toward the economy of effort is
basically physiological; the tendency toward uniformity, which causes
analogical formations, operates as an external (though somewhat
disembodied) force. For Schleicher, the causes of linguistic development
and of the preservation oflinguistic forms are immanent to language as an
organism; the external forces are destructive and cause decay. They can
become effective only when the internal forces cease to operate. For Paul
and the other Neogrammarians who rejected the organic view oflanguage,
such an explanation was absurd. Brugmann and Osthoff were virtually
incapable of comprehending how anybody could think of language as an
organism (or, for that matter, anything other than a human activity of
speech), and they attributed Schleicher's views to terminological confusion.
This point of view arose among those who think that a language and the forms of a language
lead a life to themselves, apart from the individual speakers, and who permit themselves to
be governed to such an extent by terminology that they continually regard metaphorical
expressions as reality itself. 32
If language has no reality beyond speaking individuals, then all causal

explanations must refer to the speech mechanism and not to forces inherent
in language itself. In other words, only psychological and physiological
causes can be admitted as explanations oflinguistic phenomena. The forces
causing the preservation of language and those reponsible for its change
could no longer be attributed to two separate realms of reality, as they were
by Schleicher. For the Neogrammarians, the same psychophysical mecha-
nism was responsible for language change and for its maintenance. Instead
of the Schleicherian opposing forces, the Neogrammarians demanded that
a uniform set of mental and physical processes must result in language
maintenance as well as a continuous process of change and development.
Linguistic change and stability are not opposed to one another, but both
result from the everyday use of language and they must be understood in
this context. "The real reason for the variability of usage is to be sought only
in regular linguistic activity."33
The rejection of a distinction between the "internal" forces directing
linguistic development and continuity, and the "external" forces causing
decay, was accompanied by the abandonment of the idea that different

forces operate at different stages in the history of language. Schleicher, as
we have seen, agreed with the basic premise of this argument: forces
external to language (the drive towards economy of effort) are active
throughout history, since men are always essentially the same. However,
the conception of language as an organism allowed him to posit internal
developmental processes whose effectiveness changed as language moved
through its prehistorical development to the period of historical decay. This
"causal dualism" allowed Schleicher to remain relatively consistent.
Curtius, who, like the Neogrammarians, explained linguistic change as a
result of psychological phenomena, could not explain the chasm between
the development of language and its decay without positing essential
differences between the speakers of common Indo-European and the
speakers of modern languages. The Neogrammarians saw this procedure
as completely unjustifiable: Why should the psychophysical mechanism
governing speech today be different from that in the past? Are not men
essentially the same?
one has no right to accept the hypothesis that the factors affecting language development were
essentially different in the later periods than in the earlier, or even that these factors were the
same, but acted in as essentially different manner. 34
If the laws governing the psychological and physical processes of speech

are always the same, as psychology and physiology teach, and if language
is only a result of these processes, then it is unscientific to subscribe to the
notion that thousands of years ago the causes of language development
were different from those operating today.
The Neogrammarians were not the first to claim that the causes of
linguistic change were always the same. William Dwight Whitney, an
American linguist who studied geology in his youth and was an adherent
of Lyell's uniformitarianism, argued the same point in his book Language
and the Study of Language (1867), and again in his Life and Growth of
Language (l875)?5
Wilhelm Scherer, the scholar mentioned in the first sentence of the
"Preface" as responsible for changing "the physiognomy of comparative
linguistics,"36 used the same argument in support of his belief that one
cannot distinguish between historical and prehistorical stages of develop-
ment, or between development and decay.37 Concurring with Whitney and
106 Chapter IV
Scherer, the Neogrammarians rejected the belief that all language develop-
ment occurred in prehistorical times, while history witnessed only degener-
ation and decay. The forces leading to language development must be
operative today, just as all the processes we observe today must have been
present also in the past. Analogical innovations must have occurred just
as often in common Indo-European, Greek, Sanskrit, or Latin as they do
in the modern languages. The old practice of not admitting analogy in the
early languages is based on normative and not on objective scientific
criteria. Like their non-committal attitude towards the agglutination
theory, so also their rejection of the distinction between development and
decay resolved tensions in the linguistic doctrine. Now, only one set of
factors could explain all linguistic development and justify all linguistic
methodology.
Thus, the Neogrammarians promoted a new understanding of the nature
oflanguage as a physiological and psychological activity ofindividuals, and
also a new attitude toward scientific explanation, one which had to rely on
uniform and timeless psychological and physiological laws in order to
provide a causal description of historical phenomena. In the "Preface" to
Morphological Investigations, Brugmann and Osthoff presented these
philosophical underpinnings of their doctrine as incontrovertible, immedi-
ately obvious facts:
These methodological principles are based on a two-fold concept, whose truth is immediately
obvious: first, that language is not a thing which leads a life of its own outside and above human
beings, but that it has its true existence only in the individual, and hence that all changes in
the life oflanguage can only proceed from the individual speaker; and second, that the mental
and physical activity of man must have been at all times essentially the same when he acquired
a language inherited from his ancestors and reproduced and modified the speech forms which
had been absorbed into this consciousness. 38 (emphasis mine)
These philosophical beliefs of the Neogrammarians were to serve as the

basis for their explanation of the process oflinguistic change (and stability),
and thereby also as ajustification of their inherited methodology. The task,
then, was to develop a theory of linguistic change which would be con-
sistent with the understanding oflanguage as a psychophysical activity and
which would rely only on the assumption of constant operation of mental
and physical factors. At the same time, this theory should explain the
causes underlying exceptionless sound changes and analogical formations,
and thus legitimize linguistic methodology. Brugmann and Osthoff did not
attempt to accomplish this task in the "Preface", but it was undertaken

later by Osthoff, Delbruck, and Paul.
The theoretical explanation of the process of analogical formation
developed by the Neogrammarians provides a good illustration of the
manner in which these linguists tried to integrate their philosophical beliefs
about language and science with the methodological requirements of
describing linguistic changes in terms of analogical formations and sound
laws. The Neogrammarians saw analogical formations as a crucial aspect
of the human faculty of speech and as a source of a wide range oflinguistic
changes. Accordingly, providing an explanation of the operation of analogy
was important both as a theoretical task and as a justification of
methodological practice. Because of the importance they attached to
analogy, the Neogrammarians were even occasionally called die
Analogisten. 39
We have seen that one main effect of the rejection of the "two-stage"
model of development was the extension of the operation of analogy to the
early stages of linguistic development. Furthermore, abandoning the idea
of linguistic decay, the Neogrammarians also rejected the evaluation of
analogy as a destructive force and argued that it was a normal and
constructive linguistic process. While earlier analogy was often called "false
analogy," the Neogrammarians argued that there was nothing "false" about
it. "The term 'false analogy' is objectionable since it attaches to this process
an unjustifiable odium; for the unconscious and unreflective creative
linguistic activity is natural and not connected with grammatical rules
arrived at by an a posteriori reflection."40
Arguing that analogical formations are results of a normal psychological
process of association, Paul saw analogy as a process basic to all speech
activity. Earlier in the century, Herbart had postulated that similar, con-
tiguous, or simultaneous representations are always psychologically
organized into a series of associated elements. The same process was also
postulated to take place in langauge use. According to Paul, words with
similar meaning, function, or sound form groups. He distinguished between
two kinds of such groups: the "material" and the "formal." Material groups
are basically semantic: their elements share similar meanings, and often
also similar phonetic structure. Formal groups, on the other hand, are
basically morphological: their members share similar grammatical
functions. "The material groups are all the way crossed with the formal. Not
merely do single words tend to coalesce into groups, but analogous
proportions between different words do likewise."41 Thus, material groups
108 Chapter IV
may form proportions with the formal ones (Paul cites examples such as
tag: tages: tage = arm: armes : arme); but proportional groups may also
form within material groups themselves (so that "the cases of a singular
may be set in proportion with those of a plural"42); or such groups may
depend on "sound substitution," i.e., morphophonemic alternation (e.g.,
knife: knives = wife: wives, etc.). Finally Paul also suggests syntactically
associated groups.
The various ways in which linguistic elements are associated in these
criss-crossing groups permits individual speakers to use language. Paul
argued that it is ridiculous to suppose that all words and sentences which
a speaker uses are simply committed to memory. Rather, the human speech
activity is a creative process. The existence of proportion groups allows
speakers to create forms of words and sentences analogous to similar forms
of different words and sentences which are remembered. Speech is the
result of a constant, creative, combinatory activity.
One of the fundamental errors of the old science of language was to deal with all human
utterances, as long as they remain constant to the common usage, as with something merely
reproduced by memory .... The fact is that the mere reproduction of memory of what it has
once mastered is only one factor in the words and groups of words which we employ in our
speech. Another, hardly less important factor is the combinatory activity based upon the
existence of the proportion-groups. The combination consists to some extent in the solution
of an equation between proportions, by the process of freely creating, for a word already
familiar, on the model of proportions likewise familiar, a second proportional member. This
process we callformation byanalogy.43
Thus, the process of analogical formation is not a pathological process

based on a mistaken perception of the correct usage; it is common to all
speakers and crucial to the very ability to employ language. Occasionally,
however, this normal psychological process leads to innovations: it creates
either entirely new forms or alternatives to the traditionally accepted ones.
Paul claimed that this is possible because language is never perfectly
regular, and because some forms often belong to more than one associa-
tional group, so that the proportion may be set up with one group rather
than with another. Children are especially prone to analogical innovations
(e.g., they form all plurals regularly by adding -s: "foots"), since "the less
finished and the weaker the impressions made by single words, the fewer
are the restrictions put upon the new creation."44 But the analogical
innovations introduced by children will, generally speaking, disappear.
Such will be the fate also of most innovations introduced by adult speakers;
but if the same kind of innovation is often repeated by different individuals
in the community, then a new form may become permanent. These spon-
taneous coincidences between the analogical creations of different
speakers are possible because of "the overwhelming agreement in the
organization of idea-groups which influence human speech."45 In the case
of words and phrases which have a fairly strong, frequently reinforced
memory-picture associated with them, analogical innovations will be
impossible or most unlikely, since such new creations will conflict with
strong representations: there will be a strong tendency to "correct" them.
Moreover, once a form has been memorized, then simple reproduction,
rather than a creation by analogy, will probably occur. Occasionally,
however, the representation of a given form will be so weak that an
analogical innovation based on strong proportional-groups will not appear
as a mistake, and might eventually prevail, and even create a memory-
picture stronger than the previously existing one.
It is a mistake, however, to regard even the innovative analogical
formations as corruptions or degenerations. They enrich language and their
activity regularizes language. Already in his "Nasalis sonans" article of
1876, Brugmann noticed these positive functions of analogical innovations
and protested against the tendency to view them in a negative light. 46
The theory of analogy developed by the Neogrammarians does not
attempt to describe the specific conditions leading to any particular
analogical formation. Instead, it provides a general model of the processes
resulting in innovations. This explanation of analogy justifies, in general
terms, the methodological reliance of the Neogrammarians on analogy, and
demonstrates that analogy is the result of a normal psychological process
operating in accordance with the uniform laws governing all mental
activity. In short, the Neogrammarian theory of analogy seemed to fulfill
its "double" goal: it explained analogical formations in a manner consistent
with their philosophical ideas, and it justified their methodological reliance
on analogy as an explanation of apparently irregular linguistic innovations.
The Neogrammarians were less successful with their theoretical explana-
tions of phonetic change than with their theory of analogy. Still, as the
following discussion endeavors to demonstrate, the process of theory
building was very similar in both instances: given certain metholodgical
practices and certain philosophical assumptions, the Neogrammarians
tried to construct a theory of phonetic change which would meet the
110 Chapter IV
requirements of these assumptions and simultaneously justify their

methodology.
Before discussing the Neogrammarian attempts to construct a theory of
phonetic change, we must examine the reasons for their insistence that
sound laws admit no exceptions. After all, this was a belief that they set
out to explain theoretically, and one which caused them the greatest
theoretical difficulties. In the previous section I argued that the principle
of the exceptionless operation of sound laws was not motivated by the need
for greater methodological rigor, but rather by the philosophical beliefs of
the Neogrammarians. This statement, however, was only indirectly justi-
fied: it was shown that this particularly strong formulation of the principle
had no appreciable effects on methodological practice. It seems to me that
the Neogrammarians insisted on their Ausnahmslosigkeit because they
understood sound change as a causally determined phenomenon. If sound
changes are not random events but regular phenomena, then there must
be some effective cause which produces the same effect whenever it is
operative. In other words, whatever the causes of regular sound change
occurring under any given specifiable conditions, every time these con-
ditions are present, the causes will be operative and the same result will
ensue, provided there are no other forces preventing the operation of the
original cause. In terms of sound changes, this principle amounts to an
assertion that, whatever the specific cause of change of sound A into sound
B may be (in a given sound environment, and in a given dialect), whenever A
occurs in this environment, the change into B will also occur. To the
Neogrammarians, the principle of exceptionless sound laws was a plea for
the principle of "same cause/same effect."
Ifwe, therefore, speak of the uniform operation of sound laws, this can only mean that in the
case of sound-change occurring within the same dialect, all the separate cases, in which the
same sound-conditions occur, are treated uniformly. It must either happen, therefore, that
where the same sound existed previously, the same sound always remains in the later stages
of development as well; or, where a separation into different sound has occurred, there must
be a special reason of a kind affecting sound alone - such as the effect of neighbouring sounds,
accent, place of syllable, etc. - for the fact that in one case one sound has arisen and in another
a different sound. 47
Since the Neogrammarians believed that sound changes affect individual

sounds and not entire words, they excluded the possibility that meanings
can constitute one of the conditioning elements of sound change, and
argued that it is inadmissible to posit sound changes affecting only a given

morphological or semantic category of words. Sound changes could there-
fore be conditioned only by their phonetic environment. Thus, whatever the
causes of sound change, they act blindly and mechanically on sounds
themselves. The Neogrammarians argued that if there were no other causes
of linguistic change apart from those producing sound change, then sound
laws would describe fully all transformations, and there would be no
remaining exceptions. Since this is clearly not the case, those changes
which are not regular must be the result of some other process. Otherwise,
the principle of "same cause/same effect" would have been violated. Thus,
if an apparent phonetic change is not regular, it cannot be a result of the
same factors which produce regular change; and the Neogrammarians
usually go on to assume that this is not a phonetic change at all, but rather
an analogical formation, a borrowing, or a result of dialect mixture. Since
the analogical formations, as opposed to sound changes, are morphologi-
cally or semantically conditioned, their causes will be totally different from
those producing phonetic transformations.
It is maintained that our etymological consciousness - our regard for related forms, stands
in the way of the operation of a sound law. Whoever maintains this, must, in the first place,
clearly understand that it involves no denial of continuous activity of the factor which impels
to sound-change - only a supposition of a factor of an entirely different nature which operates
against this. It is decidedly not a matter of indifference whether we assume that a factor is
at one time operative, and at another inoperative, and that its operating power is counteracted
by another factor ... .If we, however, allow that the effect of the factor of sound makes its
influence first felt, but is then counteracted by the other factor. .. the uniformity of the sound
laws is hereby admitted. 48
Here the principle of exceptionless sound laws seems to be clearly

motivated by the requirements of causal efficacy and by a demand for
completeness of explanation: whatever cannot be explained as a result of
factors producing regular sound change must be explained as a result of
some other forces: those causing analogical formations. It is in this sense
that the Neogrammarian postulate was not a demand for greater
methodological rigor, but a consequence of the philosophical beliefs of the
Neogrammarians about the nature of causality and its role in linguistic
explanation. In this instance, it was the philosophical assumptions rather
than methodological practices that functioned as constraints. It has been
difficult to see their principle in this light because the N eogrammarians
112 Chapter IV
were not very successful in invoking specific causes of phonetic transfor-

mations, and they did not even try to account for any given sound law
causally. They could not specify the various conditions which limit the
operation of a given sound law to a specific historical period or to a given
dialect group. As we shall see, this failure resulted from the mechanistic and
individualistic approach of the Neogrammarians and from their dislike of
abstract concepts in science.
The Neogrammarians made two distinct attempts to develop a theory
of phonetic change. Again, as was the case with Bopp's and Schlegel's
theories of inflection, the two Neogrammarian theories were based on
essentially identical philosophical beliefs. In addition, the two
Neogrammarian theories were also designed to justify the same
methodology. Despite these similarities, there were important differences
between them, and these differences testify yet again to the inherent
openness of scientific idea systems, where even the strict determination of
a number of elements does not determine fully all other elements.
Gisela Schneider has described the differences between the first formu-
lation of the Neogrammarian theory, which was presented most explicitly
in Osthoff's popularization, Das physiologische und psychologische Moment
in der sprachlichen Formbildung, and was also adopted by Paul and
Brugmann in their 1877-79 articles; and the second formulation, proposed
by Paul and Delbriick in their works of 1880 and later adopted as the
position of all the Neogrammarians in their polemics of 1885-86.49 The
crucial difference between these two theories lies in their explanation of
sound laws. The factors considered responsible for phonetic change and for
the status of sound laws as scientific statements are different in the two
theories. According to the first theory, the causes of sound change are
purely physiological, and sound laws have the same character as laws in
the natural sciences. According to the second theory, sound change is
conditioned both physiologically and psychologically, and sound laws can
no longer be seen as statements of universal and necessary relationships.
The two theories distinguished by Schneider follow one another in quick
succession. The first theory was elaborated in 1879 by Osthoff and
mentioned in passing by both Paul and Brugmann. In 1880, this theory was
criticized by Delbriick in his Introduction to the Study of Language and by
Paul in his Principles of the History of Language, and supplanted by a
different theory both by Delbriick and Paul. In the polemics of 1885-86, the
first theory is not even mentioned by the Neogrammarians. In other words,
the first Neogrammarian attempt to develop a causal explanation of sound
change was a failure, and it was abandoned almost as soon as it was

adopted.
The first theory relied on the idea that sound changes, as opposed to
analogical formations, have a purely physiological determination. Just as
the production of sounds depends on the activity of speech organs, so
changes in pronunciation must depend on changes in these speech organs.
When two individuals, A and B, differ with respect to their pronunciation of a given sound,
or rather with respect to their ability to do so, manifestly the most obvious and unprejudiced
conclusion about this phenomenon is that there is a difference between their respective vocal
organs, such that what is feasible for A is impossible for B to pronounce, and vice versa. 50
For Osthoff, the process of sound change is caused by completely mechani-

cal, physical phenomena. Sound change is not only unconscious, as all the
Neogrammarians, including Osthoff, believed, but it is also independent of
all psychological and social factors. This physiological explanation of
sound change fully justified the exclusion of semantically or morphologi-
cally conditioned sound change, since physiological phenomena obviously
cannot depend on the meanings or functions of words. Osthoff's explana-
tion also clearly separated those mechanisms involved in phonetic changes
from those involved in the introduction of analogical formations. Analogy
was a result of purely psychological determinations, and affected basically
semantic or morphological categories. Osthoff tried to explain why all the
speakers of anyone dialect submitted to the same sound changes by
arguing that the physiological changes in the speech organs were not
random, but environmentally and culturally conditioned. "Just like the
shaping of all the physical organs of men, so the formation of their speech
organs depends chiefly on the climatic and cultural conditions in which they
live."sl Cultural and climatic continuity of societies spontaneously leads to
the same physiological changes in the speech organs of all members of the
society, and thus, sound changes are common to the entire social and
dialectal group which lives for an extended period of time under the same
climatic, geographical, and cultural conditions. Regular sound changes are
also furthered, according to Osthoff, by the imitative instinct, so that even
if all members of the community are not affected by the physiological
transformation, the physiologically introduced sound changes may never-
theless spread farther. Imitation is by far the less important factor, while
the primary cause of all phonetic change is physiological.
It appears that in 1879, both Brugmann and Paul shared Osthoff's
understanding of sound changes. Paul argued that
114 Chapter IV
One should never acquiesce in a variability or lack of consequence in the treatment of one
and the same sound under identical conditions. When this will not be remedied by a different
formulation of the sound law, then only one of the different changes occurring under the same
conditions could have arisen in a physiological manner, while the others must have been brought
about in a psychological manner, through form-association. 52
And Brugmann wrote that "sound change begins with the organs of speech
themselves."53
This physiological explanation of sound laws had certain advantages: it
justified the belief that sound changes are phonetically, not morphologi-
cally or semantically, conditioned; it distinguished with great clarity the
causes of analogy from those of sound change; and it explained sound
change as a result of causally uniform processes, which nevertheless could
affect only a small group of speakers at a particular time. Still, the model
was untenable; there was no evidence that people's vocal organs differed,
and the fact that people living nearby but speaking unrelated languages
often have somewhat similar pronunciation could be just as easily
explained by cultural contact as by the influence of climate. It was also
quickly pointed out that children learn the phonetic system of their
environment, independently of the phonetic system of the language of their
parents. Finally, the other Neogrammarians insisted that although the
exact pronunciation of sounds is unconscious, it is not independent of
psychological phenomena, and that therefore it is necessary to consider
psychological as well as physiological processes involved in phonetic
changes. Accordingly, a correct theory of phonetic change had to take into
account the operation of both physiological and psychological factors.
The second version of the Neogrammarian theory of sound change,
which invoked both the mental and the physical processes involved in the
pronunciation of sounds, was developed most extensively by Hermann
Paul in his Prinzipien der Sprachgeschichte. Following the notion that sound
change must be a result of normal speech activity, Paul began with a
discussion of the processes involved in the regular pronunciation of sounds.
According to Paul, the movement of the vocal organs during the production
of sounds is always accompanied by a motor sensation (Bewegungsgefiihl)
and an auditory sensation produced by the sound. "These sensations are
not merely physiological processes, but psychological as well."s4 These
sensations leave a lasting memory picture of pronounced sounds or series
of sounds. In turn, the memory pictures serve as "matrices" and controls
for the future reproduction of the same sounds. Since the memory picture
is influenced not only by the motor sensation but also by the fact that one
hears the sound pronounced by others and by oneself, the control exercised
by the picture keeps the pronunciation of sounds in agreement with the
speech of the community of discourse. All reproductions of sounds are
always somewhat inexact; each successive pronunciation differs a little
from the preceding one. And since the entire process is unconscious, as
long as these variations are so minute as to be unnoticeable, they may
remain in speech and modify the motor sensation associated with a given
sound. The more recent motor sensations will be stronger than the earlier
ones, so that the memory picture and the motor sensations are not simply
averages of all previous sensations, but will be slightly modified by changes
in the more recent pronunciations. Gradually, an accumulation of such
small variations may result in a large-scale transformation of sounds,
provided there is some psychological or physiological factor which causes
all variations to tend towards a particular pronunciation.
If such causes act at the same moment, with exactly the same force, in opposite directions,
then their operations cancel each other, and the movement is carried out with absolute
exactness. This case will occur very seldom indeed. In by far the most numerous cases the
balance will incline to one side or the other. It is, however, possible for the relation ofthe forces
to undergo manifold changes according to circumstances. If this change is as favorable for one
side as for the other; if a deviation towards one side always alternates with the corresponding
deviation towards the other side, in this case the very smallest displacements of the motor
sensation will be immediately arrested. Matters are, however, very different when the causes
which impel to one side have the preponderance over those which have immediately opposite
tendency, whether this be in each particular case or only in the generality. The original
deviation may have been ever so insignificant, the motor sensations having suffered thereby
the slightest possible displacement, still for the next time a somewhat greater displacement
from the original is rendered possible, and with this coincidentally a displacement of the
sensation. There thus gradually arises, by adding together all the displacements ... a notable
difference ... 55
Paul was rather vague about the nature of the factors which determine the
shift of the motor sensation in a particular direction. He agreed with
Schleicher, Curtius, and Whitney that there exists a tendency towards a
more convenient mode of pronunciation, and he believed that it is possible
to determine the degree of convenience by a physiological study of the effort
involved in the production of sounds. Nevertheless, this physiological
convenience was also conditioned by psychological factors. Thus, following
Steinthal, Paul explained progressive assimilation (the assimilation of a
116 Chapter IV
preceding sound to a following one) as the result of a process in which it

is "the idea of the sound yet to be uttered which operates on a preceding
one."56 This "idea" is, of course, a psychological factor. Paul was not
particularly interested in discussion of the causes of the changes in the
motor sensations in any given direction: the primary cause of sound change
was always a shift in the motor sensation, and all other factors were
secondary.
According to Paul, all sound change is a result of regular speech activity
which is unconscious and proceeds gradually, slowly affecting the memory
picture. Moreover, all phonetic change begins with the individual's
pronunciation of sounds. Paul did not exclude the possibility that a whole
group of individuals speaking the same dialect could spontaneously, under
the impulse of the same factors (e.g., convenience), submit to the same
changes of pronunciation. Nor did he reject out of hand Osthoffs idea that
climate, soil, life-style, etc., influence the vocal organs and the speech
patterns of the entire community; but he considered this claim unsub-
stantiated and viewed this explanation as quite unlikely. He believed that
agreement in the direction of sound change among individuals is better
explained as a result of the interaction among the members of a community,
rather than as a spontaneous effect of the same forces influencing all the
speakers in a community. Since the sensations arising as a result of hearing
the pronunciation of others influence the memory picture of a sound, given
an intense interaction within a group, changes proceeding from one or
several individuals may slowly spread throughout the entire group. Paul
believed that this is especially prominent when children learn a language:
the displacements which occur within the same generation are slight and scanty. More notable
displacements do not occur until an older generation has been thrust aside by a new one
springing up. In the first place, if a displacement has already penetrated to the majority, while
a minority still opposes it, it will be found that the coming generation will naturally adapt itself
to the majority, especially when the majority has the more convenient pronunciation .... It may,
therefore, be properly said that the main occasion of sound-change consists in the transition
of sound to new individuals. 57
A similar though psychologically less detailed model of sound change

was presented by Delbriick in the Introduction to the Study of Language.
Delbriick was more sceptical than Paul about the nature of the causes
adduced by linguists in order to explain sound changes. He was doubtful
about the role of climate and non-committal about the role of convenience
of pronunciation. He agreed with Paul that changes begin with an

individual's pronunciation of a given sound, and spread throughout the
community of discourse.
The final cause of aJl linguistic change, therefore, can only lie in the fact that the single
individual does not circulate the language imparted to him precisely as he received it, but
always individualizes what was transmitted to him, whether from love of convenience, or from
an aesthetic impulse, or because his ear, in spite of every effort, could not accurately grasp
it, and his mouth reproduce it, or from some other cause. 58
In the first model, the causes behind sound change were common to the
entire speech community and spontaneously affected all individuals; in the
second model, change started only with one or several individuals and later
could spread to the rest of the dialect group. Thus, while the first,
"physiological" model supported the idea that sound change is uniform
within the entire community at any given point in time, the second
"psychological" model, which relied on the transmission of sound vari-
ations from individual to individual, had to assume that, although for any
one individual within the community all instances in which a given sound
occurs (in the same phonetic context) were simultaneously transformed,
nevertheless within the group there would be some individuals who still
retained the old pronunciation, while others had already adopted the new
one. The fact that change was seen as a gradual process limited the extent
of these variations, but it did not eliminate them. Delbriick was forced to
admit that exceptionless sound laws affect individuals only, and that we
should not expect to find complete uniformity
in the coJlective mass of any existing speech, whether it wiJl be a popular dialect or a literary
language. For it is not probable that all the individuals within a linguistic community will speak
precisely alike. Therefore we can only expect to find these laws in the case of the single
individual, or rather, if we wish to be quite exact, only in the average speech of an individual
at anyone moment. Now from what an individual speaks or would speak at a definite moment
of his life, ifhe aJlowed the whole mass of his vocabulary to pass though his vocal organs, we
must first subtract all that can be regarded as borrowed (in the broadest sense), and then all
phonetic formations which depend upon the action of analogy. When this is done, the form
which remains is the result of phonetic change alone. Here, and only here ... we may expect
complete uniformity in the treatment of all analogous cases, and in this sense we must assert
that phonetic laws as such admit of no exceptions. 59
Despite the narrowing of the operation of uniform sound laws to

individuals only, and despite all the qualifications which are introduced,
118 Chapter IV
Delbrfick's careful statement of principle still expresses the notion, com-

mon to all the Neogrammarians, that sound laws cannot admit exceptions
because they affect sound only, and because the causes of sound changes
must be effective uniformly in all applicable instances. "It cannot be
doubted that all scholars who have devoted any serious attention to
phonetics have consciously been influenced by the idea that the moving
spring of all changes is neither arbitrary nor accidental, but prevailingly
regular."60 The individualistic, psychological description of these "moving
springs" of sound change meant, however, that all the applicable instances
of exceptionless operation of sound laws had been narrowed down to single
speakers in single moments of time. The principle "same cause/same effect"
still appeared to legitimize the exceptionless character of sound laws, but
since the true causes of change were concrete psychological factors with
no obvious external determinants, the effects could only be fully discerned
in unique individuals.
The second Neogrammarian theory of sound change satisfied most of the
philosophical demands of the Neogrammarians. Sound change was
described as resulting from the same everyday factors involved in regular
language use. These factors were psychological and physical in nature, and
operated uniformly throughout history. But the causal explanation
provided by the theory of Paul and Delbrfick was incomplete. Explaining
sound change in general turned out to be different from explaining any
specific phonetic change. All known sound laws were of limited validity:
they applied only to groups of speakers and were operative only in specific
historical periods. Moreover, they never appeared to be necessary results
of existing conditions: two or more languages could develop from the same
mother tongue according to their own specific sound laws. The Neo-
grammarians were incapable of explaining how this was possible. If we
were to compare the Neogrammarian theory of sound change to the
Darwinian theory of evolution, loules proportions gardees, we could say that
Paul developed an elaborate theory of the mechanisms of (genetic) vari-
ation in language without a theory of natural selection. (The factor of
"convenience" did not solve this problem - it was also general and acted
independently of circumstances, so it could not explain different develop-
ments from the same source.)
The transition from the first to the second theory involved not only a
change in the factors invoked to explain sound modifications, but also a
change in the scientific status of sound laws themselves. The
Neogrammarians agreed with Ludwig Tobler that laws in natural science
must fulfill two conditions: they must have exceptionless validity

(ausnahmslose Geltung) and they must describe the operation of specific
forces (in other words, they must be causal).61 As long as the
Neogrammarians adhered to the physiological theory of sound change,
they saw sound laws as statements analogous to natural laws, since the
discrepancy between the explanation of how and why sound change occurs
"in general," and why it occurs in specific ways under specific circum-
stances, was not a problem in Osthoff's theory. Specific climatic, environ-
mental, and cultural conditions influenced speech organs, and sound
change proceeded from these changes. The fact that the validity of sound
laws was limited to a given group living in a specific area at a given time
was perfectly understandable and causally explained by this theory. Sound
laws were both exceptionless and referred to unique and necessary causal
relationships. Thus Paul wrote in 1879: "I proceed here from a hypothesis
that every sound law works with absolute necessity and admits no
exceptions just like a chemical or a physicallaw."62 Once the first model
was rejected, so was the identification of sound laws with natural laws. Just
one year after proclaiming the identity of sound laws with natural laws Paul
changed his views: "The idea of sound laws is not to be understood in the
sense in which we speak of'laws'in Physics or Chemistry ... Sound law does
not pretend to state what must always under certain general conditions
regularly recur, but merely expresses the reign of uniformity within a group
of definite historical phenomena."63
Although Paul and the other Neogrammarians still argued that sound
laws admit no exceptions, they conceded that this "exceptionlessness" is
limited in time and location, whereas natural laws were not limited in this
way. And since the second theory did not attribute these limitations to the
operation of specific causal factors, the requirements oflaws in the natural
sciences were not fulfilled. No sound law explained the operation of the
forces which caused the change described by this "law." In a sense, the
Neogrammarian admission that sound laws are not laws at all, but only
descriptions of historical regularities, was an admission of failure. 64
Despite the repeatedly stressed necessity of causal explanations in terms
of "real factors" influencing language change, the Neogrammarians were
unable to develop a causal theory of phonetic transformations which would
explain specifically why a given change had occurred. Paul's science of
principles explained only how sound change was possible at all. The failure
of the Neogrammarian theory to account for specific causes of sound
change was accompanied by their ultimate lack of interest in research into
120 Chapter IV
these causes. Initially the Neogrammarians had advocated just such

research and reproached the earlier linguists for their failure to investigate
"which factors are active in speaking, and how these factors working
together cause the progression and modification of the substance of
speech."65 Their call for greater attention to "living dialects" rather than
"dead languages" can also be interpreted as a call to study the causes and
processes of language change. This insistence on the empirical investi-
gation of dialects, which the Neogrammarians believed would ultimately
prove the correctness of their methodology, went unheeded by the
Neogrammarians themselves. The original members of the school did not
follow their own advice despite the fact that the last quarter of the
nineteenth century witnessed an increase in these types of studies. 66 Why,
then, did the Neogrammarians persist in studying only the oldest periods
of Indo-European languages, and why did they search for regularities of
sound changes only in various historical languages attested in written
documents, while insisting at the same time on "the study of more recent
language developments and of the living dialects" and on a "consideration
of those things which an observation of the psychological and physical
mechanisms place at the linguist's immediate disposal"?67 Why did the
Neogrammarians not initiate studies which they recommended both in
their explicit calls to reform linguistics and in their theories?
These questions can be answered only when we consider the institutional
situation in which the formation of the Neogrammarian schoool took place
and the position of comparative linguistics and of the original members of
the school in the German university system. This then is the task of the
following chapter.
CHAPTER V
THE NEOGRAMMARIAN REVOLUTION FROM ABOVE
While sociologists of science generally agree that some form of exchange

of recognition for contributions plays a central role in the organization of
scientific work and fuels the quest of scientists for innovations, there is no
general agreement on the manner in which the value of contributions is
assessed collegially, on the strategies chosen by scientists to accumulate
rewards (or credibility or credit), or on the uses to which reputations might
be put.
Criticizing Hagstrom's image of scientific contributions as gifts which
are, on the whole, evaluated unproblematic ally and recognized by the
community of disinterested scholars, Latour and Woolgar insist on a more
economically rounded and utilitarian system of exchanges. 1 According to
their model, the value of contributions is assessed not because the norms
of science require that recognition be awarded where it is due, but because
scientists need the work of their colleagues to conduct their own research.
Thus, evaluations emerge from the use of contributions by others, and the
credibility which accrues from such use can be converted into various
forms of capital which can then be "reinvested." For a scientist, "a
successful investment might mean that people phone him, his abstracts are
accepted, others show interest in his work, he is believed more easily and
li3tened to with greater attention, he is offered better positions, his assays
work well, data flow more reliably and form a more credible picture."2
Latour and Woolgar's model of the cycle of credibility is valuable insofar
as it stresses the importance of the nature of demand (though perhaps it
is too hasty in assuming that this demand is always of the same character
and derives from a unique audience), and because it emphasizes the
convertibility of accumulated credit into a variety of resources necessary
for new investments. The image they present, however, bears clear signs
of its origins: a study conducted within a single laboratory at a particular
period of time. As a result, Latour and Woolgar disregard the role of wider
institutional contexts in shaping the strategies used by scientists to accumu-
late credit, and they ignore differences between variously structured fields.
The opportunities and limitations afforded to scientists located in various
positions within the organizational structure of their own field, and of the
121
122 Chapter V
scientific community as a whole, are treated by Latour and Woolgar as

unproblematic givens: assumed to be the same in various fields and in
different historical periods.
Nor are the ways in which and the degree to which scientists in various
fields use the contributions of others regarded as problematic. In his recent
works, however, Whitley has used the degree of mutual dependence (and
thus also the extent to which the contributions of others are used) as one
of the variables which help us to distinguish between different intellectual
fields. 3 Jt is reasonable to expect that in fields with a relatively low degree
of functional dependence, credit based on "use value" will be less important
than in the more integrated fields. Is "use," then, the only criterion
employed by scientists in their evaluations of the work of their colleagues?
This lack of attention to wider institutional structures and differences in
the organization of various sciences is also apparent in Latour and
Woolgar's description of investments. One might well expect that the
conversion of credibility into particular forms of investment will be struc-
tured differentially in various institutional settings and for scientists located
in different positions within the scientific community. While credibility or
reputations might "in principle" be convertible into a variety of new
investments, the actual form these investments take is likely to be struc-
tured by such factors as the availability of resources, the institutional
organization of the field and its authority structure, the location of a
scientist or a group of scientists within it, etc. To give the crudest of
examples, during a period of rapid institutional expansion, the credibility
accumulated by a scientist might lead to "offers of better positions," while
the same credibility accumulated in a shrinking "market" might not be
sufficient to secure continuous academic employment, so that the "rein-
vestment" might in the latter case be directed to quite a different audience
(to industry, for example). Similarly, scientists located in different positions
within the formal and informal hierarchy will be able to structure their
reinvestments differentially, converting the accumulated credit into a pow-
er sufficient to redefine the boundaries of their field or to influence its
further cognitive development, so as to increase the future value of their
work. Or, as Whitley states in his critique of Hagstrom, which applies also
to Latour and Woolgar:
This model of colleagues of equivalent status and resources engaging in mutual back
scratching ignores the stratification of authority in the sciences and unequal distribution of
The Neogrammarian Revolution from Above 123
resources. It also disregards the effect of differential recognition and rewards on the system
of production of scientific knowledge and thus "forgets" the crucial point about reward
systems, that they are instruments of control. The search for reputations in the sciences, then,
just as in the arts or other systems of cultural production, is not simply for mutual pats on
the back but for power over knowledge goals and procedures. Having a high reputation implies
an ability to have your own views and ideas accepted as important so that others follow your
direction. It also implies an ability to affect the allocation of resources and, indirectly, jobs
in work organizations where reputations control facilities. Struggles for reputations, then,
involve battles over resources and priorities. Equally, rather than simply offering research
results upon some neutral and impervious market for reputations, scientists engage in various
strategies, with varying amounts and sorts of resources, to manipulate actively others'
opinions and evaluations. 4
The idea of unequal struggles for reputations suggests that in discussing

the formation of schools of thought, we must pay attention both to the
hierarchies of authority within a given field and to the opportunities and
constraints presented by the wider institutional framework within which
science develops (availability and allocation of resources, access to
students and positions, the role of "external" knowledge consumers, etc.).
Moreover, if struggles for reputations involve conflicts over the power to
define "knowledge goals and procedures," then the study of these struggles
within the institutional context in which they take place might shed some
light on the particular directions of cognitive developments within a given
intellectual field, and, more generally, help us to understand one of the ways
in which institutional and social factors influence cognitive development.
In other words, looking at the strategies scientists use to gain recognition
or extend their authority within the context of the specific institutional
structures in which these strategies are used might help to elucidate one
of the links between the social conditions under which specific scientific
fields develop and the particular cognitive directions of this development.
It is in this light that we must now examine the formation of the
Neogrammarian school of thought.
The Problem
When the renowned comparative linguist and classicist Georg Curtius set
out in 1885 to dispute the claims of some of his students who had
124 Chapter V
proclaimed the formation of a new school of thought in linguistics several

years earlier, he could not conceal his bewilderment at their insistence that
comparative linguistics needed a new foundation and a radical theoretical
and methodological overhaul. Curtius recalled that "for sixty years, Indo-
Germanic linguistics has been developing smoothly and without significant
inner contradictions"; and he lamented the appearance of "a new or young
or apparently stricter tendency," which voiced a "need for a thorough
divergence from views previously held in many areas."5
Curtius' bewilderment is understandable. By the 1870s, comparative
grammar had gained a recognized place within the various philological
disciplines. Thanks in no small measure to Curtius' own efforts, studies in
comparative and historical linguistics had become a significant part of
classical philology. Research and teaching in other philological fields was
also based extensively on comparative and linguistic methods. Moreover,
the sixties and seventies witnessed a surge of important new discoveries in
linguistics, and the rapid progress oflinguistic scholarship was universally
acknowledged. At a time when discoveries of new sound laws followed one
another in quick succession, a group of promising young scholars, many of
them associated with the University of Leipzig, the most prominent center
of linguistic studies in Germany, had declared that it was necessary to
adopt a new set of principles, revise linguistic methodology, and reformu-
late the basic assumptions of comparative linguistics. By the time the
creation of the new school was announced in 1878, many of these original
rebels had already achieved recognition for their important contributions
to Indo-European linguistics, and many had assumed professorships at
respected universities and seemed destined for brilliant academic careers.
What prompted this rather privileged group oflinguists to revolt? Why did
they want to emphasize their disagreements with their colleagues and
elders by calling themselves a movement or a direction (Richtung) and
criticizing much of what linguistics had accomplished? Why did this
incident generate such a stormy and long-lasting controversy?
It would be reasonable to assume that the formation of a school of
thought is a direct result of profound or even irreconcilable cognitive
differences between two or more groups of scholars engaged in research
in the same field, and that the greater the cognitive divergence, the more
likely the emergence of a school and the stormier the ensuing controversy
(such an assumption is made by, for example, Ossowski).6 However, our
earlier analysis of the idea system of the Neogrammarians clearly does not
support this common-sense view. In the preceding chapter we have seen
that the cognitive differences between the Neogrammarians and their

predecessors, although real, were exaggerated by the adherents of the new
school, and that the controversy between the Neogrammarians and their
opponents focussed on the issues about which there was little disagreement
in actual research practice. In keeping with the positivism and psy-
chologism prevalent in German academic science during the second half
of the 19th century, the Neogrammarians introduced into linguistics a
degree of philosophical and theoretical discontinuity. They rejected both
their predecessors' Romantic conception of language as an organism and
their historicist beliefs about linguistic growth and decay; instead, the
Neogrammarians set out to formulate a theory of linguistic change based
on a definition of language as a psychophysical activity, and on the
assumption of causal uniformitarianism. By and large, these philosophical
and theoretical innovations were not disputed by the opponents of the new
school, who seemed to agree, if only implicitly, that the theoretical and
philosophical foundations of comparative linguistics needed modernizing.
Their disagreements centered instead on linguistic methodology, which
the Neogrammarians claimed to have reformed by insisting on the excep-
tionless character of sound laws and on the universal applicability of the
principle of analogy. Notwithstanding the Neogrammarian claim that the
principle of exceptionless sound laws increased the methodological rigor
oflinguistics, their actual research practice did not differ significantly from
that of their immediate predecessors and opponents. In fact, it can be
argued that the successive and indeed innovative theories of linguistic
change proposed by the Neogrammarians were designed in such a way as
to preserve, rather than revise, the accepted linguistic methodology, which
continued to yield many important discoveries. The Neogrammarians'
categorical formulations may have seemed necessary philosophically or
theoretically, but they were of scant methodological relevance.
Moreover, the Neogrammarians ignored many of their own theoretical
recommendations in their research, and followed instead the established
research pattern. For example, they called for causal explanations of
linguistic change but were unable to provide them. Similarly, they argued
that linguists should focus their attention on living languages and spoken
dialects, yet they limited their research almost exclusively to the investi-
gation of dead languages preserved only in written documents.
Thus, the Neogrammarians' unfulfilled theoretical demands and their
emphasis on methodological rigor, the discrepancies between their
announced research objectives and their successful (but traditional)
126 Chapter V
research practices, as well as the lack of sustained debate about their quite
real theoretical innovations, together with the stormy controversy that
surrounded what was in fact a concealed methodological continuity, all
suggest that cognitive considerations did not playa paramount role in the
formation of the Neogrammarian school of thought. Instead, one might
suspect that there were social or institutional considerations that led this
group oflinguists to announce the creation ofa school of thought, and that
their absolute formulations of inherited methodological principles, as well
as certain of their theoretical innovations, resulted at least as much from
institutional pressures and constraints as from purely intellectual con-
siderations.
We have argued earlier that the struggle for reputations in the sciences
involves attempts to further specific conceptions of the goals, methods and
criteria of evaluation in a given intellectual field and that the formation of
a school of thought can be seen as an organized, though institutionally
constrained, attempt to challenge the authority structure of the field by
establishing an independent right to legitimize scholarly research. The
question to be answered here is whether it is possible to explain the
formation of the Neogrammarian school as such a bid for authority, and
if so, why was this bid made? Does this interpretation help to explain any
of the cognitive claims made by the Neogrammarians? How did the
location of the Neogrammarians in the community of comparative
linguists, and the particular manner in which linguistics was institu-
tionalized in Germany, affect the character of the N eogrammarian idea
system?
A School of Thought as a Bid for Scientific Authority
The event that precipitated the creation of the Neogrammarian school of

thought clearly involved conflicting claims of scientific authority. In 1876,
while Georg Curtius was away from Leipzig, Karl Brugmann, Curtius'
student and the co-editor of his Studien zur griechischen und lateinischen
Grammatik, included his own paper on Nasalis sonans in the ninth volume
of this periodical. Curtius, who disagreed with Brugmann's conclusions,
apparently thought that by publishing his own work, Brugmann had
overstepped the authority delegated to him. Curtius added a note to the
volume in which he disclaimed any reponsibility for the work it contained,
and apparently dismissed Brugmann from this position.? Although the

disagreement between Curtius and Brugmann concerned a specific cogni-
tive issue (the existence of vocalic nasals in proto-Indo-European), the fact
that the conflict took the form of an editorial dispute is significant. After
all, the ability to influence or even control the publication of scholarly work,
which is inherent in the position of an editor of a scientific journal,
constitutes one of the most important means of exercising scientific
authority. By disclaiming responsibility for the publication of Brugmann's
article, Curtius was questioning not only this particular paper but also
Brugmann's ability to make responsible and valid scientific judgments. The
note appended to the ninth volume of the Studien withdrew Curtius'
imprimatur of legitimacy from Brugmann's work and, by the same token,
could be seen as undermining Brugmann's right to evaluate research.
It was left to Brugmann and his colleagues to reassert their right, and
in doing so they created the Neogrammarian school of thought. In 1878
Brugmann, together with Herman Osthoff, began the publication of Mor-
phologische Untersuchungen, to which they were the sole contributors. By
publishing the Untersuchungen, Osthoff and Brugmann were bypassing the
established elite whose evaluative criteria they also castigated explicitly in
their "Preface." At the same time, two other Neogrammarians, Hermann
Paul and Wilhelm Braune, were editing a more typical journal, the Beitriige
zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur. Eventually, Brugmann
was able to establish a regular periodical, Indogermanische Forschungen,
which allowed him to publish the work of other linguists and thus also to
evaluate and pass judgment on linguistic research. In time, the Beitriige and
Indogermanische Forschungen became the leading journals in their fields.
The Neogrammarians' claims to independent scientific authority did not
prevent them from maintaining ties with the established elite in compara-
tive linguistics. Their papers appeared repeatedly in Kuhn's Zeitschrijifiir
vergleichende Sprachforschung, the main comparative journal of the time
before, during, and after the controversy; and there are no signs that they
encountered any difficulties in having their work published in this tradi-
tional forum. Three articles by Brugmann appeared in the Zeitschriji in
1879, three in 1881, and four in 1885. Osthoff, Heinrich Hiibschmann and
Berthold Delbriick also contributed to the Zeitschri/t. The ease with which
the Neogrammarians were published in non-Neogrammarian journals
means that their attempts to establish independent outlets for the publi-
cation of their research were not the result of a lack of recognition of the
value of their work by other linguists. Indeed, the validity of the
128 Chapter V
Neogrammarians' empirical research was generally acknowledged, and the

publication of their work in established journals brought them external
legitimation, increased status in the scientific community, and wider recog-
nition of their contributions.
Thus, the Neogrammarians attempted to achieve recognition and
legitimacy from the established scientific elite, while at the same time, by
publishing their own periodicals and proposing their own strict criteria of
evaluation, they strove to achieve the status of a legitimate and legitimizing
scientific elite in linguistics. This seemingly contradictory strategy appears
to be characteristic of schools of thought in general, which often have to
function within a "dual legitimation system": insofar as access to valued
resources in science is dependent on the recognition of the value of
scholarly contributions, schools must strive for external legitimation of
their research; insofar as their aim is to assert independent scientific
authority, they attempt to create separate means for the legitimation of
scientific work.
In the case of the Neogrammarians, the basic recognition of their work
was not in question, and it is therefore necessary to ask what led the young
linguists to make their bid for authority in such a forceful manner? The
answer to this question is by no means obvious when one considers the
initial status and prospects of the founding members of the school. The
linguists who formed the core of the new school were an unusually
privileged group. Examining the biographies of Karl Brugmann, Herman
Osthoff, August Leskien, Hermann Paul, Berthold Delbriick, Eduard
Sievers, Wilhelm Braune, and Heinrich Hiibschmann, one is struck by the
fact that their academic success was rapid and to a large extent came prior
to the controversy. Six of these eight scholars were already full professors
by 1878, when the controversy became public and the school manifesto was
published (Brugmann and Braune were the two exceptions). While during
the period 1870-79 the average age of the first nomination to a university
chair in the humanities was 34.9, the average age for the Neogrammarians
was 31. Only Brugmann (who was 35 when he was appointed to the chair
in Freiburg) and Leskien (who was 36 at the time of his appointment in
Leipzig) were over thirty when they became full professors.
The period of career uncertainty - that is, the time between habilitation
and the first Berufung - was also shorter for the Neogrammarians than for
an average German academic. The Neogrammarians waited on the average
only 5 years for their first Ordinariat (3 years from habilitation to Extra-
ordinariat), while for all professors of the humanities this period lasted an
average of8.5 years. In short, the original members of the Neogrammarian

school habilitated earlier (at age 25), waited for a shorter time for their
appointments, and were younger than average on reaching the top of the
university hierarchy in Germany. 8
The Neogrammarians' institutional successes were supported by their
scientific productivity. In 1875 and 1876 alone, Brugmann wrote his article
on Nasalis sonans; Sievers published his Grundlage der Lautpsychologie,
Leskien brought out his book on declension in Slavic and Germanic
languages, Hubschmann demonstrated the relationship of Armenian to
other Indo-European languages, and Osthoff published his work on the
origins of strong and weak cases in Indo-European. All of these works were
widely reviewed and enjoyed a basically favorable reception. Like their
institutional standing, the initial scholarly success of the Neogrammarians
came prior to the public controversy over the formation of the school.
As young scholars associated with the University of Leipzig and students
of such authorities in comparative linguistics as Curtius and Schleicher, the
individual Neogrammarians seemed destined to succeed their teachers and
to rise to positions of eminence in their respective fields and in the German
academic world in general. Their initial career progress seemed to support
fully this early promise. And yet, this gradual co-optation into the elite of
linguistics must have appeared to offer insufficient opportunities for the
young scholars, who instead chose an open challenge to the authorities
over the prospect of a steady and relatively harmonious advancement in
their field. Are there circumstances under which even an elite revolts?
Under what conditions would this be considered rational behavior? In
order to address this question, let us examine the changes taking place in
German universities in the 1860s and 70s and the effects of these changes
in the area of linguistic research.
The Institutional Setting
The Neogrammarian challenge came at a time of rapid expansion of

German universities. Increases in student enrollment were especially
dramatic:
130 Chapter V
CHANGES IN STUDENT ENROLLMENT IN GERMAN UNIVERSITIES,

1830-1886. 9
Year 1831/32-36 1861/62-66 1871/72-76 1881/82-86
All Philosophical Faculties 2,395 4,392 5,896 9,123
All Faculties 13,029 13,284 16,124 25,858
Philosophical Faculty in Berlin 381 740 816 1,874
Philosophical Faculty in Leipzig 184 226 1,011 1,212
Between 1830 and 1860 the overall student enrollment remained almost
stationary, but beginning in 1860 the number of students in German
universities grew at an unprecedented pace. There were twice as many
students in 1881 as in 186l. The increase was slightly more rapid in the
philosophical faculties, but the greatest changes took place in enrollments
in the philosophical faculties of major universities. Between 1861/62-66 and
1881/82-86, the number of students of the Berlin philosophical faculty grew
by 150%, while in Leipzig during the same period, student enrollment in
this faculty quintupled. The number of students choosing philology as their
field also grew. In 1878/79, some 294 students passed the Prussian state
examination in philology to qualify for secondary school teaching; this
number grew to 422 by 1885/86, only to decrease dramatically by 1891/92
to 190. 10
The university faculties did not grow quite as rapidly as student
enrollments. This was especially true in the case of full professorships; the
number of Privatdozenten did increase sharply. Still, between 1864 and 1880
the number of Ordinarien teaching in German universities grew by 30 %,
and this increase was slightly larger in the humanities and natural sciences
(39%). But the largest changes occurred in the various philological fields.
During the 16 years between 1864 and 1880, the number of philological
chairs grew by 53 % from 90 to 138. This growth was not evenly distributed
among the various philological disciplines: while the number of professors
of classics increased relatively modestly, by 30 %, the increase in all other
philological areas was enormous. In 1880 there were 82 full professors of
non-classical philology, compared with 47 in 1864 (a 74% increase). By
1890, another 11 professorships had been added, so that by 1890 there were
twice as many chairs of various non-classica11anguages and literatures as

In 1864.
NUMBER OF ORDINARIEN IN GERMAN UNIVERSITIES BY
SUBJECf AREA.II
Year 1864 1880 1890 Increase, 1864-1880

(in percent)
Humanities 179 254 282 42
Natural Sciences 135 181 204 34
All Philological Fields 90 138 149 53
Classical Philology 43 56 56 30
Non-Classical Philological 47 82 93 74
Areas
Total in All Faculties 723 947 1,037 31
The creation of new chairs affected a number of philological fields, but the
most dramatic changes took place in the modern languages.
CHAIRS OF PHILOLOGY IN GERMAN UNIVERSITIES, 1864-1890. 12
Year 1864 1880 1890
Romance Philology 3 14 18
English Philology o 4 7
German Philology 14 23 24
Slavic Philology 2 3
Sanskrit and Comparative Linguistics 10 17 20
Non-European Languages, excluding Sanskrit 17 22 21
Classical Philology 43 56 56
Total 88 138 149

132 Chapter V
German philology, which began to be institutionalized earlier in the

century, was by the 1870s considered an indispensable university subject.
At some of the larger universities (e.g. Berlin, Strassburg, and Leipzig),
second chairs of German language and literature were created on the
assumption that the older linguistic documents and texts should be
examined separately and differently from modern literature.
The scholarly study of Romance languages and literatures, which had
entered the university system in the 1830s when Diez was appointed in
Bonn and Blanc in Halle, remained completely peripheral for the next 30
years. But in the 1860s and 70s, Romance philology quickly joined the list
of disciplines considered essential to the university curriculum. By 1880,
chairs of Romance languages and literatures (often with an additional
responsibility for English) were the rule rather than the exception. Only the
universities of Jena, Freiburg, and TUbingen had neither an Ordinarius nor
an Extraordinarius responsible for the teaching of Romance philology. The
"emancipation" of English philology and its institutionalization as a distinct
discipline was in its early stages in the 1870s. Only some of the larger
universities, such as Berlin, Bonn, Halle, Leipzig and the new university
of Strassburg had separate full professorships of English language and
literature before 1880, but others would soon follow. In addition, there were
new chairs of Slavic philology in Berlin (since 1874) and Leipzig (since
1876).
Meanwhile, new chairs of Sanskrit philology and comparative linguistics
were being added at a number of universities. In Berlin, following the death
of Franz Bopp, the position of Sanskrit studies was separated from the
chair of comparative linguistics. A similar separation took place in
Strassburg. In Heidelberg a new professorship of Sanskrit and compara-
tive linguistics was founded in 1872. In Marburg a chair of comparative
linguistics and German philology was created in 1869, supplementing the
existing chair of Oriental philology, which had occasionally been held by
Sanskrit scholars. The same was true in Munich, where in 1868 a chair of
Sanskrit and comparative linguistics was added to a chair of non-Biblical
Oriental languages. By 1880, there was at least one (ordinary or extra-
ordinary) professor responsible for the teaching of Sanskrit at the uni-
versities of Berlin, Bonn, Breslau, Erlangen (where the title was still
"Orientalische Sprachen"), Gottingen, Greifswald, Halle, Heidelberg,
Jena, Kiel, Konigsberg, Leipzig, Munich, MUnster, Strassburg, TUbingen,
and WUrzburg. There was no position for a Sanskritist in Rostock, but
lectures in comparative linguistics were being offered by a specialist in
Semitic languages. Apart from Rostock, only the universities of Freiburg

and Giessen had no specialists in Sanskrit or comparative grammar. This
was also to change shortly: in 1884, Brugmann became a professor of
Sanskrit and comparative linguistics in Freiburg, and in 1886 Peter von
Bradke became an Extraordinarius in Giessen. 13
The institutionalization of comparative linguistics which took place
earlier in the century was not directed at establishing linguistics as an
autonomous discipline. Instead, it proceeded through the introduction of
linguistic methods and concerns into the various philological areas (both
the established ones, such as classics, and new ones, such as Sanskrit and
Romance philology). Given this fact, the expansion of the philological
faculty provided the comparativists with an opportunity for a substantial
augmentation of their role: every new university position in any area of
philological study could potentially be filled by a scholar trained in com-
parative linguistics, or even by one whose main research interests centered
on the historical examination of language development. Every student
could be required to study the methods and results of historical and
comparative linguistic research; every new journal specializing in one of the
philological disciplines was a potential forum for the publication of
linguistic research. But this growth of the philological faculty brought with
it greater cognitive specialization and social differentiation. The growth
and the differentiation of the philological faculty implied that the number
of those empowered to make authoritative judgments about philological
research would increase, while the area of competence of each member of
the elite would become more limited.
Zuckerman and Merton have examined the role of editors and referees
(who control access to the publication of scientific work in journals) as
gate-keepers of science. 14 By evaluating the contributions of others and
deciding whether or not to publish a given piece of research, those in charge
of journals exercise a great deal of scientific authority. Thus, it can be
argued that the larger the number of periodical publications (and the larger
the number of editors who make decisions concerning the publication of
scholarly work in a given area), the larger will be the number of scholars
claiming membership in the scientific elite. Although not every member of
the scientific elite is an editor of a journal (there are other means of
exercising authority in science) and not every journal editor is a member
of the elite, radical changes in the number of philological journals estab-
lished in Germany can serve as a rough indicator of changes in the number
of philologists aspiring to the elite.
134 Chapter V
NUMBER OF PHILOLOGICAL PERIODICALS PUBLISHED IN GERMANY,

1850-1885. 15
Year 1850 1860 1870 1875 1880 1885
Classical Philology 6 5 7 13 14 20
German Philology 3 3 5 10 13 16
Romance, English and 2 2 2 9 16

Slavic Philology
Oriental Philology 2 2 3 4 4 5
Linguistics 0 3 3 3 4 5
Total 12 15 20 32 44 62
In the 1870s and 1880s there were dramatic increases in the number of
philological journals being published in Germany. The addition of so many
new periodicals, first in classics and German philology and later in other
modern language philologies, suggests that the growth of the philological
faculty was indeed accompanied by many new claims to membership in the
elite, and at the very least, by a potential for radical change within the
authority structure of the various philological fields. It is worth noting that
during the time in which the number of full professors of philology
increased by 50 %, the number of philological journals almost tripled (from
15 to 44). This disproportion also suggests that there was a degree of
instability within the authority structure.
The Neogrammarian "Revolution from Above"
It was against this background that the young linguists from Leipzig made
their bid for scientific authority by forming a new school of thought. On the
one hand, the creation of the Neogrammarian school can be seen as an
attempt to capitalize on the expansion of the academic study of philology
by an effort to assure that the historical and comparative study oflanguages
would constitute an important aspect of research in all philological
disciplines. On the other hand, the Neogrammarians' forceful claim of
authority can be understood as a reponse of the "heirs apparent" to the

dispersal and dissolution of the existing elite. In this sense, the
Neogrammarian rebellion was a kind of "revolution from above," a
reassertion of authority over a broader and more diversified field, with a
concomitant modernization of the idea system.
In order to realize the potential of comparative and historical linguistics
as a significant factor in the development of the various philological fields,
the Neogrammarians had to insist on the relevance of linguistics for the
study of all languages Gust as earlier the comparative grammarians had had
to demonstrate its usefulness for the study of c1assicallanguages). In the
face of rapid specialization, the Neogrammarians pursued what might be
called a "strategy of infiltration," insisting that comparative linguistics is
not a separate discipline but an integral part of the geographically or
culturally specialized philological disciplines.
While the number of academic positions for philologists was rapidly
growing, the tendency toward specialization was also increasing. The joint
chairs for Sanskrit and German, German and Romance, or Romance and
English philologies were being replaced with separate positions for each
subject. Ursula Burkhardt traced this process of specialization in
Heidelberg:
Adolf Holtzman had treated German philology along with Oriental studies. After his death
in 1870, the members of the philosophical faculty at Heidelberg came to the conclusion that
the individual disciplines had become too specialized to make such double representation
possible. They thus requested two Ordinariats: one for Sanskrit and Comparative linguistics,
and one for Old German and - for some strage reason - Old French language and literature. 16
The second of these positions was given to Karl Bartsch, who earlier had
taught German and Romance philology in Rostock. However, upon his
death in 1888, further separation was deemed necessary, and a distinct
chair of Romance philology was added to the existing position in German.
In other universities, especially in the large schools in Berlin, Leipzig, or
Munich, this process of specialization occurred in a similar fashion. But
cognitive specialization, accompanied by institutional differentiation,
could also lead to the establishment of separate chairs of linguistics. The
creation of a distinct chair of comparative linguistics in Berlin in 1872
seemed to foreshadow such developments in other schools.
It might seem paradoxical that linguists themselves would try to resist
these pressures to establish their field as an autonomous discipline, but the
136 Chapter V
Neogrammarians were opposed to such a separation of comparative

linguistics, and their position on this issue ceases to appear incongruous
if it is understood as an attempt to benefit from the expansion of philology.
In his inaugural lecture in Leipzig in 1885, Karl Brugmann, who had just
assumed a chair of Indo-European linguistics at that university, tried to
demonstrate that linguistics was an inseparable part of the various
philological disciplines and that Indo-European linguistics was not a part
of general linguistics but of (Indo-European) philology, that is, of the study
of "the spiritual life of a community" (in this case the Indo-European
community):
We should not believe that today every discipline has already found its definitive proper place
in the system of sciences, one which could not be challenged by the progress of investigations.
But we must always keep in mind, now more than ever in view of the increasing division and
specialization of scientific research, that where a division of work has occurred, no artificial
limits should be erected, but that the only acknowledged boundary lines should be those
determined by the object under investigation and by the concept of science itself. This is
especially true, as it seems to me, of the relationship between Indo-European linguistic
research and phiiology,I7
Arguing that linguistics is not a separate discipline but a research area

within the various philological fields, Brugmann was in effect attempting
to strenghten the institutional position and cognitive relevance of compara-
tive and historical studies of language. As a separate discipline, compara-
tive linguistics could only be a minor field with a small number of prac-
titioners and a limited appeal to students. After all, there were only 21
universities in Germany at the time, and comparative grammar - as
opposed to Latin, German or French philologies - was not taught in
secondary schools. Without strong ties to special philological areas,
linguistics could easily become cognitively and institutionally marginal.
Linguistics could, however, become an important element of university
teaching and research as a part of Germanic, Romance, classical and
English philologies, and thus as a specialty uniting a number of academi-
cally central disciplines; its practitioners could occupy academic positions
in a number of different fields, and its elite could claim authority to evaluate
and legitimize a broad range of research.
Although Brugmann was basically conservative - he wanted linguistics
to retain its existing connections with philology - he acknowledged and
supported the growing specialization of philology based on national or
cultural criteria. In this respect, it is instructive to compare Brugmann's

1885 lecture with a similar one given by Curtius in 1862. While Curtius
argued that comparative grammar should be an aid to the philological
study of Greek and Latin cultures, Brugmann, using the same definition of
philology as Curtius, argued that comparative linguistics is basic to all
philological endeavors, and that every culture should be examined with the
help of the same philological and linguistic methods:
The spiritual life of a community can express itself in various activities and creations, in
language, in belief, in religion, in custom and law, in literature, science, art, and in the forms
of public and private life. Since at least a few of these forms of activity of the human spirit
occur among all the peoples of the earth - none is without language and belief, nor is there
one without stirrings of artistic feeling and without such notions ofitself and of the surrounding
world as could be described as the beginnings of scientific activity - so every people has a valid
claim to philological study. IS
Neogrammarian support for the extension of the study of cultural life to

cultures not previously deemed worthy of scholarly investigation was, in
fact, only a recognition of the new situation in philology. In the 1870s,
classical philology was no longer the only legitimate philological field, and
modern philological disciplines were growing in size and importance. It was
in these relatively new academic fields that linguists could hope to exercise
the greatest influence: first, because of the expansion within these
disciplines and the accompanying lack of a firmly established authority
structure; and secondly, because of their traditional association with
comparative linguistics. Accordingly, it was here that the Neogrammarians
made their strongest bid for authority.
Cognitive Repercussions of Institutional Changes
The connections between comparative linguistics and the non-classical

philological disciplines dated from the early nineteenth century, when, in
order to prove that the study of modern languages went beyond mere
practical learning and the appreciation of literary works (always open to
the charge of dilettantism), students of German, English, French, Italian,
or Spanish philology turned to the study of linguistic history and to the
methodology of comparative grammar. In other words, in an attempt to
gain scientific legitimacy and respectability, philologists since the 1830s
138 Chapter V
tended to turn to historical scholarship, both linguistic and literary, and to

focus their research on the reconstruction, critical presentation, and expla-
nation of the oldest literary and linguistic documents. In these endeavors,
the methodology of comparative grammar seemed especially valuable.
Accordingly, as Seidel-Vollman reports, "Romance philology, like the
other modern individual disciplines, has grown from the soil of compara-
tive linguistics that was established at the beginning of the nineteenth
century within the framework of Romantic Geisteswissenschajt."19
The early interdependence between linguistics and the various non-
classical philologies continued throughout the century, but before the 1860s
and 70s, the study of modern languages, with the possible exception of
German, constituted only a minor part of the philological research con-
ducted at German universities. Comparative grammarians tended to focus
their attention on the oldest languages, especially on Sanskrit, Greek and
Latin. The idea system of the early linguists emphasized the "com-
pleteness" and grammatical clarity of these languages, while modern
languages were regarded as decayed remnants of the organic languages of
the past and were of interest to linguists only insofar as they offered clues
to the structure of their linguistic ancestors.
The rapid increase of the importance and size of the modern language
faculty changed the "balance of power" in the philological faculty. The
study of modern languages and literatures became an increasingly
important element of the university curriculum. In order to benefit from this
new status of modern philology and to maintain and strengthen the ties
between linguistics and the modern philological disciplines at a time when
the latter were achieving disciplinary autonomy, the study of modern
languages had to be accorded the same theoretical and empirical relevance
as research in Sanskrit, Greek and Latin. This meant that linguists could
no longer maintain the belief that non-classical languages were decayed, or
that their development proceeded according to laws different from those
that had governed the transformations of ancient languages.
The Neogrammarian attack against these traditional tenets of compara-
tive linguistics suggests that in their bid for authority, they were responding
to changes in the relative status of the various philological fields. The
Neogrammarians insisted on the continued relevance of comparative and
historical methods for the study of modern languages by arguing that
evidence from Sanskrit was not always paramount, and that the process
oflinguistic decay was spurious. Neogrammarian support for the principle
of uniformitarianism endowed the study of all languages with the same
cognitive relevance. This philosophical "equalization" of ancient and

modern languages allowed the young linguists to reassert their own
authority over all of philology at a time when the relative importance of its
various branches was changing.
The Neogrammarian strategy was largely successful in expanding the
role of linguistics in modern philological disciplines. Linguistic subjects
were important elements of research and teaching in the modern
philologies even before the creation of the new school, but their share
increased appreciably in the 1880s. In her investigation of German
philology at Heidelberg, Tiibingen and Freiburg, Ursula Burkhardt reports
that.
The share ofiinguistic topics among all Germanic lecture offerings rose at the three southwest
German universities ( ... ) from about 7 % between 1820 and 1840 to 20-25 % between 1840 and
1880, and by 1885 reached a share of about 35 %. Thus more than one third of all announced
lecture hours between 1880 and 1920 were concerned with linguistics?O
Similar figures can be obtained about English and Romance philology

from Lexis' list of Privatvorlesungen, private (paid) courses offered at the
German universities during the winter semester of 1892/93.2 1 Using this
list, it is possible to calculate that in that year, lectures on linguistic subjects
- dealing with such topics as the comparative grammar of Romance
languages, the historical syntax of French, the history of the English sound
system, or Gothic grammar - constituted approximately 24 % of lectures
in German philology (23 courses of a total of 97); 51 % of lectures in
Romance philology (24 of 47), and 38.5 % of lectures in English philology
(11 of 29). Clearly, the expansion of modern philology contributed to the
growth oflinguistics. The Neogrammarians were especially able to benefit
from this expansion because their cognitive innovations reaffirmed the
relevance of linguistics for the modern philological disciplines.
The manner in which the Neogrammarians affirmed the significance of
modern languages for comparative linguistics illustrates the conservative
character of their bid for authority. The adoption of the principle of
uniformitarianism inspired certain methodological and theoretical innova-
tions (for example, the extension of the applicability of explanations of
linguistic changes as resulting from analogical formations back to the
earliest stages oflinguistic history), but it required no change in the basic
research interests of the Neogrammarians. They continued to study distant
periods of linguistic history, focusing their investigations of "modern"
140 Chapter V
languages on Gothic, Old French, Anglo-Saxon, etc. Although the Neo-

grammarians claimed that the study of linguistic change could greatly
benefit from the investigation of living languages, they continued to ignore
the spoken and literary idioms of contemporary England, France and
Germany. The idea that a knowledge of living languages should constitute
the basis for all linguistics can be understood better as a claim over
uncharted territory than as an actual research directive.
The high initial status of the Neogrammarians within the philological
community, and their acknowledged success in traditional types of his tori-
cal linguistic research, allowed them to establish their authority over the
modern philological disciplines while at the same time promoting the
development of their own field along traditional lines. If a tested research
strategy continues to bring rewards and even allows for the extension of
a group's authority, there might be little incentive to move towards more
risky types of scientific endeavor. More innovative claims might be useful
as a means of extending the range of prerogatives of an area of research,
but such claims did not need to be put into practice in the research of
scholars whose successes stemmed from their adherence to more generally
recognized linguistic concerns and methods, and whose rebellion was as
much a reaffirmation of the potentially threatened status quo as a truly
innovative beginning. Or, as Pickering argues in his study of physics: "a
specific development of scientific theory, a specific sequence of con-
structions and elaborations of exemplars is preferred to alternative
developments because of its relationship to the existing patterns of interest
or investment in the relevant scientific community."22 Clearly, the
Neogrammarians' investment in the established methods of doing research
in comparative and historical linguistics, and the high returns this invest-
ment was bringing them, acted as inducements to retain this methodology,
even if it were to be applied to other philological areas and in a modified
theoretical framework.
Thus, the creation of the Neogrammarian school of thought was in part
an attempt to reassert the importance of traditional historical and com-
parative linguistics for all philological disciplines. But this broadening of
the relevance of linguistics to encompass all Indo-European languages in
all historical periods was not only a response required by changes in the
relative status and size of various philological disciplines. As mentioned
earlier, the expansion of philology brought about a certain fragmentation
of the philological elite. The instability of the authority structure was
especially severe in linguistics, since several important members of the elite
(Franz Bopp, Jakob Grimm, Christian Lassen, Friedrich Diez, and August
Schleicher) had died in the 1860s and 70s. In the mid-1870s, a number of
younger linguists - Johannes Schmidt in Berlin and August Fick, Adalbert
Bezzenberger, and Herman Collitz in Gottingen, not to mention the
Leipzig scholars - were competing for the right to replace their teachers
and mentors. 23 In this context, the formation of the Neogrammarian school
can be seen as a particularly forceful claim on the part of the Leipzig group
to assume authority and replace the fragmented elite by counteracting the
instability due to the expansion of philology. The forcefulness of the
Neogrammarian claims was conditioned by their attempt to concentrate in
their own hands authority over a broad range of philological research.
In order to do this, the Neogrammarians insisted on the importance of
generally applicable principles of linguistic development (as described, for
example, in Hermann Paul's Prinzipien der Sprachgeschichte), and they
attempted to impose seemingly more rigorous and demanding methodo-
logical criteria. The principle of the exceptionless character of sound laws
served precisely as one such exact "scientific" standard for evaluating all
linguistic research. The Neogrammarians' adamant insistence on the value
of this principle, and their opponents' equally adamant rejection of it, can
be understood better in terms of conflicting claims to join the ranks of the
elite and to acquire the right to establish evaluative standards than in terms
of actual cognitive or methodological disagreement.
Although the N eogrammarians' uniformitarianism was relatively new, as
were their psycho-physical explanations of language (which modernized
linguistic theory by basing it on current philosophical beliefs), these
particular aspects of the Neogrammarian idea system met with little
opposition. Instead, the controversy centered on the Neogrammarian
assertion that sound laws suffer no exceptions. Since virtually all linguists
tried to structure their generalizations so as to be able to limit as far as
possible the number of unexplained irregular cases, and since neither the
Neogrammarians nor their opponents were able to formulate truly excep-
tionless laws, this focus of the controversy is difficult to explain in cognitive
terms. As a methodological guideline, the principle of exceptionless sound-
laws was implicitly respected by every late-nineteenth-century linguist; but
as a methodological standard for judging the validity of research, it could
not be followed by anybody. There were some philosophical and theoretical
reasons for the Neogrammarians' insistence on their principle (e.g., their
adherence to the principle of "same cause/same effect"), but even these
cognitive reasons fail to explain why the Neogrammarians emphasized
142 Chapter V
their sound law formulation in such an absolute fashion, or why it was this
particular claim of the school which provoked the greatest opposition. Only
when the Neogrammarian claim is understood as an attempt on the part
of the Neogrammarians to assume control over the criteria used to
legitimize various types of linguistic research does the focus of the con-
troversy become understandable.
Criticizing the lenient and imprecise criteria of their predecessors, the
Neogrammarians argued that they were proposing more demanding
standards, and implied that their own research met these more exacting
criteria. This assertion, which was firmly contested by their opponents, was
presented in the form of a principle applicable to all languages at all stages
of development. During a time of increasing specialization and the con-
sequent dispersal of the elite, the Neogrammarians laid claim to the right
to subject all linguistic research to an evaluation based on their own
standard. A more forceful claim to authority can hardly be made: if the right
to evaluate and legitimize the work of others is a prerogative of the elite,
the ability to impose general standards according to which these evalu-
ations are to be conducted confers an imposing degree of authority.
At the same time, the principle of exceptionless sound laws had an
additional and somewhat paradoxical advantage. Since it was not truly
revolutionary, it allowed the N eogrammarians to continue with the
methodology and interests of their immediate predecessors and colleagues,
and it did not disturb the continuity of linguistic development. By means
of an apparent strengthening of methodological principles, the
Neogrammarians were able to present themselves both as more scientific
continuators of a long tradition and as revolutionaries bringing modern
scientific standards to an old-fashioned field.
The case of the Neogrammarians illustrates one of the ways in which
institutional changes, the mode of institutionalization of a given intellectual
field, and its authority structure all shape the "investment strategies"
adopted by scientists, and by the same token affect the nature of their
cognitive claims. If the formation of the Neogrammarian school of thought
is studied in purely cognitive terms apart from its institutional context, little
sense can be made of the strategy pursued by these linguists, many of their
theoretical and methodological claims, and the controversy which
surrounded them. Why would scientists insist that the innovations they
proposed were far more radical than they in fact were, and try to form a
school of thought on this basis? What sense did it make to insist that
historical and comparative linguistics was not a separate discipline? Why
would linguists propose a methodological standard nobody could follow in

practice, and why would they broaden the area of relevance of their
methods and theories to include fields in which they were not doing any
research? Finally, why would there be so much controversy over what was
in fact a concealed methodological continuity?
The pattern of a "revolution from above" used here to elucidate some of
these questions is obviously not common to all schools of thought, and it
emerged in the specific institutional situation of linguistics in late-
nineteenth-century German universities. In the successive chapters we will
encounter other institutional strategies and other forms of cognitive innova-
tion but, as was the case with the Neogrammarians, the explanation of the
different forms of cognitive continuity and divergence will involve an
analysis of the changing institutional constraints and authority structures
in science within which scientists conduct their research and struggle for
reputations and authority.24
CHAPTER VI
THE IDEALIST REACTION
Although the Neogrammarians never achieved exclusive authority within

linguistics, they quickly established themselves as a linguistic elite and
dominated the field both in Germany and abroad for a number of decades.
The Neogrammarians and their students occupied many chairs of philology
and comparative linguistics in the German universities, edited the most
prestigious journals in the field, and, accordingly, functioned as a reference
group for other linguists. This meant that even those who disagreed with
the Neogrammarian philosophical and theoretical views or methodological
assumptions formulated their own views in relation to Neogrammarian
doctrine. During the early years of this century, the critique of the
Neogrammarians was expressed in the idea systems of two very different
schools of thought in linguistics: the Neo-Idealist school of Karl Vossler
and the structuralist school of Ferdinand de Saussure, later known as the
Geneva school. The presence of these two very different reactions to a
dominant doctrine presents us with an opportunity to test our contention
that shared idea systems constrain but do not determine future cognitive
options within a field, and to raise questions about the continuities
engendered by the fact that innovations within institutitionalized fields of
knowledge can be interpreted as reactions to the tensions and contradic-
tions uncovered in the dominant doctrine. In what way were the idea
systems of the Idealists and the structuralists affected by the ideas of their
shared reference field? Did the two schools react to the same difficulties
within the Neogrammarian doctrine, or were their critiques of the
N eogrammarians unrelated? What forms of continuity and divergence lay
at the basis of the two reactions? More generally, the presence of two
radically divergent and mutually incompatible reactions to the same domi-
nant doctrine raises the question of the possibility of radical discontinuity
in the development of knowledge.
At the same time, a comparison of two contemporary schools of thought
emerging in reaction to a single idea system allows us to study the manner
in which intellectual and institutional environments structure the cognitive
strategies of schools of thought. Is it significant that the Idealist school
developed in Germany, while the structuralists were initially prominent in
144
The Idealist Reaction 145
the linguistically more peripheral locations and prior to the Second World
War had little influence on German linguistics? How were the cognitive
differences between the Idealists and the structuralists related to their
distinct institutional locations and the different modes of institutionali-
zation of linguistics in these settings?
The Idealist school of Karl Vossler which we examine in this chapter
does not today attract much attention from historians oflinguistics who are
rarely interested in pursuing histories of ideas which from their perspective
appear as scientific deviations or dead ends. Although the Idealists
proposed a linguistic theory stemming from one of the dominant historio-
graphic and philosophical trends of the time, the further development of
linguistics was largely unaffected by Karl Vossler and his students. Even
during the first decades of the twentieth century, when Vossler's school was
active in Germany, its position appears to have been ambiguous. The
Idealists proposed a general linguistic theory and constituted themselves
in conscious reaction to the Neogrammarian doctrine, but their influence
was limited almost exclusively to the field of Romance linguistics and
literary criticism. Moreover, while their critique of the Neogrammarians
involved them in controversies in Germany, they were disregarded by the
structuralist schools which were developing their theories in other
European countries during the same period. The differences between the
Idealists and the early structuralists were profound and mutually recog-
nized. In his retrospective article on the Geneva school, Albert Sechehaye,
one of its leaders, singled out the Idealists as the only school to which his
Geneva colleagues were opposed. After asserting that the Geneva school
did not constitute itself in opposition to other schools of thought,
Sechehaye wrote:
If there is one reigning contemporary school against which the movement we have just
described is directed to some degree, it is the school led by Karl Vossler, the author of
Positivism and Idealism in Linguistic Science, who is inspired by the doctrines of Croce. l
For their part, the Idealists distanced themselves from linguists such as
"Saussure, Meillet, Bally, Sechehaye, and others" who saw language as "no
more than a practical and empirical reality within society."2 Still, despite
these occasional critical comments, the two schools were given more to
ignoring each other than to polemical battles. This mutual disregard is
perhaps not surprising in view of the seemingly irreconcilable philosophi-
146 Chapter VI
cal, methodological, theoretical, and substantive differences between their

idea systems and the independence of the institutional settings in which
they worked.
The idea systems of the Idealists and the structuralists were based on
very different philosophical assumptions. The two schools had different
conceptions of linguistics: of its object of study, its goals, and its place
among the other sciences. They had different attitudes regarding the
construction of scientific concepts. They had different methodologies.
Comparing the idea systems of the Idealists and the structuralists tempts
one to argue for radical incommensurability, for there seems to be very little
in their respective conceptual frameworks which would allow for the
possibility of scholarly communication. The distance between the Idealists
and the structuralists seems also to suggest that at least one of these
schools innovated so radically as to break the continuity of scientific
development. As we shall see, however, this was by no means the case;
both the Idealists and the structuralists were responding to the same
problems within the Neogrammarian idea stystem, and although their
responses to this idea system were different, both of them preserved some
elements of the doctrine of their predecessors, even though what they kept
and what they rejected was different in each case. What we shall attempt
to demonstrate in this chapter is, first, that the continuity of cognitive
development may be based not only on the direct retention of certain ideas
of one school in the idea system of its successors, but also, and perhaps
more importantly, on the substantive continuity of problematics and
concerns. Secondly, it will be shown that unresolved problems and con-
tradictions within a given idea system create conditions for discontinuity,
but at the same time function as constraints which focus the attention of
scientists on specific theoretical, philosophical, or methodological issues,
and limit the options for divergence without necessarily specifying which
elements of the idea system will be retained and which will be rejected.
Thirdly, I will attempt to demonstrate that the nature of the continuities
and discontinuities and the strategic cognitive choices made by schools of
thought are structured by their institutional and intellectual environment:
in this case, by the degree of autonomy and authority to which school
members can aspire, the dependence of the new school on the existing elite,
and the problems of academic politics relating to the social function and
status of the universities and their faculty in a given country. In the first
part of this chapter we will examine the Idealists' critique of the
Neogrammarians, with particular attention to the continuities between the
Neogrammarians and the new school and to the nature of the tensions and
contradictions within the Neogrammarian system which the Idealists
attempted to resolve. The Idealist response to the Neogrammarians was
formulated initially in a pamphlet by Karl Vossler entitled Positivism us und
I dealismus in der SprachwissenschaJt (1904), which was later regarded as the
manifesto of the new school. Since Vossler's pamphlet voiced a sharp
critique of what the author described as the reign of positivist metaphysics
in linguistics, and the Neogrammarians were clearly the epitome of this
positivism, our analysis of the Idealist response to the Neogrammarians
will to a large extent be based on Vossler's book. The Idealists' solutions
to the Neogrammarian difficulties will then be shown to parallel one of the
two major forms of reaction to the crisis of positivism which affected not
only linguistics but also other social and historical sciences around the turn
of the century. (We will also suggest that the structuralists, whose idea
system will be examined in detail in the following chapter, were reacting
to the same "crisis" but chose the alternative solution.) Finally, in the last
section of this chapter, we will examine the cognitive strategy of the
Idealists in terms of its contextual determinants and try to demonstrate
that the choices of the Idealists were influenced by the situation of
academics in early twentieth-century Germany, the form of institutionali-
zation of linguistics at the German universities, and changes in the social
function of philological education.
Causality and Explanation in Linguistics: the Denial of Science
The Neogrammarian theory oflinguistic change fell short of the goals which
the Neogrammarians had initially set for it. This theory, or science of
principles, was supposed to justify linguistic methodology by explaining
historical change as a result of the operation of constant physiological and
psychological factors. Setting out from the individual speaker as the
initiator of all innovations, the Neogrammarians demanded causal expla-
nations of linguistic change which could be formulated in terms of
physiological and psychological laws. Only such an explanation, they
argued, could legitimize their methodological practices and fulfill the
demands of their philosophy of science. Ultimately, however, the Neo-
grammarians were unable to demonstrate the general validity of their
sound law doctrine, nor were they able to specify the causes of linguistic
148 Chapter VI
changes. Since these causes were supposed to be either psychological or

physiological, the Neogrammarians had to concede that sound laws could
be truly exceptionless only for individual speakers at single moments in
time (while in their empirical work they dealt with general rather than
individual transformations). And, since the Neogrammarians did not allow
for any external variables, the uniformly operating psychological and
physiological mechanisms were not sufficient to explain particular
linguistic changes, or their adoption or rejection by a language community.
The Neogrammarians, whose causal determinism did not allow for proba-
bilistic explanations, were finally forced to admit that sound laws bore no
resemblance to the laws of natural science. The rift between their empirical
research and their theory also meant that despite their continuous and
significant successes in historical linguistics, the Neogrammarians had
failed to develop a theory which would satisfY their objectives and
legitimize their research practices. These unsolved problems of Neo-
grammarian doctrine constituted the starting points for the linguistic
theories of both the Idealists and the early structuralists. Although the
manners in which the two schools proposed to resolve these problems were
diametrically opposed, the common source of their divergence influenced
the form of their innovations, so that their attempts to resolve the dif-
ficulties embedded in the idea system of their common predecessors
provided for cognitive continuity. By focussing on the contradictions and
tensions within the N eogrammarian theory of language and philosophy of
science, the Idealists and the structuralists uncovered what appeared to be
incompatible cognitive alternatives and their innovations were constrained
by the choices which these alternatives offered. In the case of the Idealists,
the choice of one of the possible solutions was linked to the decision to
retain the traditional understanding of the basic problematics of linguistic
science.
Although the Idealists called for a brand-new science of language,
Vossler's critique was based on a number of assumptions about the goal
and the nature oflinguistics which were identical with those of his predeces-
sors. First, like most nineteenth-century linguists, Vossler placed linguistics
squarely among the historical disciplines. A non-historical study of
language appeared to him an impossibility. Secondly, like the Neo-
grammarians, Vossler argued that the true goal of the science oflanguage
must be the discovery of the causal relationships underlying linguistic
change: "But can the task of history be anything other than to gain insight
into the causal connections between events? Certainly not."3 The goal of
establishing causal relationships between phenomena was certainly not

specific only to the Neogrammarians. However, it was the problem of
providing general causal explanations for specific linguistic changes which
constituted the failure of Neogrammarian theory; the Neogrammarians
had set this goal for their theory, yet it had eluded solution within their
framework.
The Neogrammarians had reasserted the importance of causal expla-
nations when they denied the possibility of a truly scientific descriptive
linguistics. Their beliefs about causality were the underlying reason for their
insistence on the exceptionless character of phonetic laws. By reasserting
the primacy of causal explanations for historical changes of linguistic
forms, and by criticizing the Neogrammarians for their inability to provide
such explanations, Vossler was addressing the fundamental problem of the
Neogrammarian theory. Continuity between idea systems may take dif-
ferent forms, one of which we can describe as the continuity of problem-
atics, or substantive continuity. It is sometimes taken for granted that
within a given discipline such continuity will always obtain, but (as we shall
see when we examine the ideas of the early structuralists) this is by no
means always the case. The questions asked by scientists do not follow
naturally and unproblematic ally from the phenomena they observe, nor are
they unequivocally determined by the scientists' philosophical assumptions
about the nature of the objects they are investigating. Although the
Idealists defined language very differently from the Neogrammarians, they
nevertheless retained the basic problematics of the Neogrammarians: they
believed that the basic goal of linguistics should be a causal understanding
of the processes of historical linguistic change. This fundamental choice
was made by the Idealists in a context dominated by the Neogrammarian
idea system, so it is perhaps not surprising that it went hand in hand with
other philosophical continuities: much - though by no means all - of the
Idealist critique of their predecessors was based on philosophical princi-
ples to which the Neogrammarians also subscribed, even if, given their
methodological commitments and their attempts to develop a nomothetic
science oflanguage, they were unable to follow these principles consistently
in their research practice.
According to Vossler, the Neogrammarians had failed to explain the
causes of linguistic changes because they reified analytical concepts and
treated abstractions as realities. For example, the Neogrammarian practice
of dividing the language into sounds, inflectional forms, words, and
sentences led them to regard these distinctions as natural and to structure
150 Chapter VI
their investigations according to these ultimately artificial distinctions. As

a result they regarded phonetics as prior to morphology and morphology
as prior to syntax. Vossler claimed that by studying sounds first, the
N eogrammarians had a tendency to view sound changes as causes of
morphological transformations, and these in turn as causes of syntactic
change. Thus, sound laws were used to explain the loss of inflectional
endings, and the loss of these endings was then seen as the cause of a
stricter word order. According to Vossler, this procedure was completely
unjustified, and the explanation was mistaken because in reality language
is not "cut up" into sounds, words, and sentences. To examine these
categories separately and reductively was to falsify human speech, since
men speak in sentences which they do not construct by adding together
sounds into words, and words into sentences.
But if one maintains that sounds form syllables, syllables words, words sentences, and
sentences speech, then one has already taken the inadvertent false step away from
methodological positivism into the metaphysical, and one has uttered nonsense comparable
to the statement that man is composed of the organs ofthe human body. In other words, one
has established a false causal connection, in that one has divided the principle of causation
into its elements and parts instead of viewing it as an ideal hierarchical unity. In fact, the causal
nexus proceeds in precisely the opposite direction: the spirit that dwells in human speech
forms the sentence, the clause, the word, and the sound - all at once. It not only forms them;
it creates them. 4
Ironically, Vossler was accusing the Neogrammarians of the same error of

which, thirty years earlier, they themselves had accused their own predeces-
sors, especially Schleicher. Just as the Neogrammarians had argued that
Schleicher had constructed artificial categories (such as language) and then
regarded these categories as concrete phenomena, so Vossler claimed that
the Neogrammarians had used their analytical distinctions as if they
represented reality itself and were something more than heuristic devices.
The Neogrammarians had accused Schleicher of hypostatizing language by
making it independent of its speakers; Vossler accused the
Neogrammarians of using the categories of sound, syllable, word, sentence,
etc., as if they corresponded to natural divisions of speech and could
explain causal relationships. But Paul and Vossler clearly agreed that an
abstract concept, arrived at by analysis, could not be the cause of any event.
Paul argued against the concept of Volksgeist because "no abstraction must
be allowed to interpose an obstruction between the eye of the observer and
the actual things, so as to prevent him from grasping the connection of

cause and effect among the latter."5 But an agreement in principle does not
necessarily entail an agreement as to particulars: Paul regarded the division
into sounds, syllables, words, sentences, etc., as a natural division of
linguistic reality. The distinction between phonetics and morphology was,
according to the Neogrammarians who regarded language as a heterogene-
ous entity, a distinction reflecting differences that existed "out there"; it was
not a distinction imposed abstractly and arbitrarily by scientists. Vossler,
however, saw these hierarchical distinctions as false abstractions imposed
on the natural unity of speech. As against the Neogrammarians, he saw
language as an intentional activity which could not be understood apart
from human motivations. Since all elements of speech were subordinated
to motivation, only the artificial imposition of abstraction allowed the
Neogrammarians to examine sounds or forms separately from their mean-
ings and intentions.
The agreement in principle that science should avoid abstractions went
hand in hand with the belief, shared by both Vossler and Paul, that one
linguistic change cannot be the efficient cause of another. Vossler was
wrong when he argued that the Neogrammarians believed sound change
to be the cause of semantic or morphological changes. Paul explicitly
denied such a possibility when he argued that a sound change and a change
of meaning "do not stand in any relation of cause and effect with each
other."6 For the Neogrammarians, an efficient cause of change must always
be either a psychological or a physiological process; thus, a change in motor
sensation which causes sound change may also result in a psychological
process of unification of previously distinct associational groups. This
psychological unification might in turn result in morphological change,
such as, for example, the disappearance of the case system. But sound
change itself is not a cause of anything; only motor sensations or the
regroupings of associational groups, etc., can be the effective causes of
change. Vossler apparently took literally statements which the Neo-
grammarians could only have regarded as shorthand presentations of
involved psychological processes. Paul and his colleagues would have had
no quarrel with Vossler's statement that "One linguistic change can never
be the cause of another, but at most only its accompanying feature,
condition, causational medium and vehicle."7 And yet, as we shall see,
what Vossler recognized as the effective cause of linguistic change was
essentially different from the universal psychological and physiological
processes invoked by the Neogrammarians.
152 Chapter VI
Vossler's accusations that the metaphysical positivists reified analytic

distinctions, which led them in turn to misunderstand the causality of
language and to develop an essentially incorrect science of language, are
revealing because they bring to the fore another important philosophical
similarity between the Idealists and the Neogrammarians.
The Idealists and the Neogrammarians shared the view that the con-
cepts used by scientists can and should reflect reality in the most immediate
and direct manner. The world is composed of unique, discrete, and directly
accessible facts which the scientist need only name. Concepts may indeed
involve some abstraction, but this process is passive and natural and
therefore unproblematic; it follows from experience rather than being
imposed on experience. Any "active" abstraction is unscientific; it obscures
facts and makes causal explanations impossible. This shared "empiricism"
of the Idealists and the Neogrammarians was also the reason for their
common insistence that language is speech, and that in order to understand
language properly, linguists must understand why and how individuals
introduce changes into their speech. The Idealists and the Neogram-
marians agreed that since language is the speech of individuals, the causes
of linguistic change must be external to language itself and must be
explained in terms of individual speakers.
But agreement on the need to avoid abstractions did not guarantee
agreement on whether a given concept was a legitimate "reflection" offacts
or an abstraction to be avoided; just as agreement that scientific expla-
nations must be causal did not guarantee that there would be agreement
on what could be invoked as a cause. The views of the Neogrammarians
and the Idealists with regard to "what is a fact" differed considerably even
though they agreed on the necessity to avoid abstraction and the necessity
of causal explanations of linguistic change. It was the retention of the
Neogrammarian problematics and of the philosophical principles making
abstraction illegitimate which led the Idealists to abandon the seemingly
incompatible Neogrammarian demands for a nomothetic science of
language.
Vossler asserted that the Neogrammarians were unable to account for
the causes of linguistic change because they had transformed their
methodology into a metaphysics. He distinguished between positivist
methodology, characterized by the careful and thorough investigation of
immediate empirical data, and positivist metaphysics, the transformation
of this unobjectionable practice into the ultimate goal of science. It is one
thing, he claimed, to gather and classify material evidence, and quite
another to assume that this evidence is sufficient to understand a human

and cultural activity such as speech. According to Vossler, metaphysical
positivism confuses the intermediate goals of science (the gathering of
evidence) with its ultimate goal, which must be the causal explanation of
phenomena.
The statement of facts, the exact knowledge of all the given data, which the methodological
positivist regarded modestly as a provisional goal, a means of obtaining knowledge, is now
described by the metaphysical - or more exactly, the radical - positivist as the final goal in
itself. Knowledge and recognition, description and explanation, condition and cause, matter
and form, appearance and causality, are all fundamentally one and the same thing. One no
longer asks, "Why?" and "Wherefore?" One asks, "What is?", and "What happens?" This is
strict, objective science.
Actually it is no science at all. It is the death of human thought, the downfall ofphilosophy.8
In their theoretical writings, the Neogrammarians agreed with Vossler that

it is necessary to understand the causes of phenomena. In their view these
causal explanations were to take the form of general psychological and
physiological laws. The realization that such laws did not supply causal
explanations of specific linguistic changes was the major failure of the
Neogrammarian theory. According to Vossler, this failure was unavoidable
because universal processes alone could not be the efficient causes of
unique events.
From a phonetic or psychological perspective there may exist elements common to sound laws
and analogies in the German language community and those in the French; but none can exist
from a grammatical perspective - not unless a historical connection between them can be
assumLd or proven. 9
General theories oflinguistic change based on psychological and physiolog-

ical laws may explain the conditions and processes of change, but such
theoretical discussions of how change is possible at all were insufficient and
misleading if the goal of linguistics was to provide a causal explanation of
specific historical events. It is here that we encounter for the first time a
profound philosophical divergence between the Idealists and the
Neogrammarians: the possibility of formulating general laws which would
explain historical changes lay at the basis of the Neogrammarian theoreti-
cal strategy, and its denial by the Idealists signalled a rejection of the
Neogrammarian model of scientific explanation. Why then did the Ide-
154 Chapter VI
alists, who retained the goal of causal explanation of historical change,

reject the notion that this task could be accomplished by the formulation
of general laws?
For the Neogrammarians laws were simply summary statements about
necessary causal relationships between events. The concepts used in these
laws were legitimate only if they corresponded directly to empirical facts,
and laws were valid only when the relations posited between these concepts
corresponded to the relationships between "facts." The cultural sciences
were different from the natural sciences because they had to rely on
psychological laws; but psychology was different from the natural sciences
only insofar as its object was not the physical world but the world of
psychological or mental facts, composed of internal representations rather
than physical matter. Once this difference was acknowledged, psychology
could become a nomothetic discipline like physics or chemistry. The meth-
ods of empirical observation (modified in psychology, since psychological
phenomena were accessible only through introspection) and of induction
had only to be transferred to the realm of mental facts in order to yield
equally valid and general results. The relationship between psychology and
linguistics (or any other cultural science) was seen as analogous to the
relationship between physics or chemistry and geology: psychology estab-
lished laws of mental life, while linguistics explained specific historical
events in terms of these laws.
But the philosophy of science adopted by the Neogrammarians did not
quite correspond to their practice. We have noticed repeatedly the tension
between their theory (based on general psychological laws) and the de-
scription of individual historical transformations which this theory could
not explain causally. Theoretically, the Neogrammarians had asserted that
linguistic change is subject to universal causal laws; but in their empirical
practice, they could not provide causal explanations of the individual
changes they investigated. The universal laws did not adequately explain
specific linguistic changes. But this meant that these universal laws were
not simple summary statements of relation ships between facts, and that the
concepts used in these laws were abstract. Moreover, this abstraction was
precisely of the kind which Paul had wanted to guard against: it was an
abstraction which prevented him from "grasping the connection of cause
and effect among (actual things )." 10 Linguistics needed to be both historical
and theoretical in order to explain causal relationships between phenom-
ena, but it appeared that general causal explanations of classes of phenom-
ena were finally incommensurate with historicity: by classifying events,
linguists abstracted from the unique and specific aspects of these events,
but these unique aspects seemed to be precisely what made the events
historical. There was both a philosophical contradiction ?etween the demand
for causal explanations of classes of events and the prohibitions against
abstraction; and a theoretical contradiction, specific to the cultural and
historical sciences, between explanations of unique historical events and
explanation by means of general, historically unconditioned laws. At this
point linguistics seemed to be facing a choice: linguists could either attempt
to provide specific causal explanations of unique historical events, and
avoid abstraction as much as possible; or they could freely construct
abstract concepts in order to explain classes of events or phenomena, but
this freed them of the demand that all explanations be historical (or even
causal). The first of these "roads" was chosen by the Idealists, the second
by the structuralists.
The problem oflinguistics was not unique; other cultural sciences were
facing a similar choice at the end of the nineteenth century. H. Stuart
Hughes describes this as "a choice between the exercise of the sympathetic
intuition postulated in Croce's neo-idealistic theory of history, and the
creation of useful fictions, as Max Weber was later to elaborate them, as
models of critical understanding."ll
The turn of the century was the period of the first reaction against
positivism. At the risk of considerable oversimplification, we can see this
reaction in terms of two movements: one undermining the assumption of
a simple and direct relation between facts and concepts; and the other,
specific to the historical sciences, denying the value of abstract theories for
history. Thus, on the one hand, philosophers began to raise questions about
the positivist claim that theoretical statements can (or should) be com-
posed uniquely of concepts which are a simple reflection of facts. Con-
ventionalist philosophies (such as those of Duhem and Poincare) empha-
sized the creative and abstract, rather than the passive and concrete
character of scientific theories. The translation of "facts" into concepts and
theories no longer appeared as a simple and unproblematic act, indepen-
dent of the observer. The positivist philosophers of science (such as Mach,
or later the logical positivists) also became preoccupied with this problem
and sought to develop rules for the translation of observations or sense
data into concepts or theories. The importance of these questions for the
social sciences is particularly evident in the development of sociology as
an autonomous discipline. Both Weber and Durkheim insisted on the need
to construct abstract concepts, and although they justified and used their
156 Chapter VI
"constructivism" in very different ways, both Durkheim's "social facts" and

Weber's "ideal types" were conceived as abstractions and "useful fictions"
created by the scientist. 12 They were not meant to be taken as historically
concrete reflections of reality. It is this abstract and constructivist
approach to social phenomena that unites Saussure's structuralist linguis-
tics with sociology rather than history.
On the other hand, there were those who insisted on the unique and
irreducible character of individual historical events, arguing that it was a
mistake for the cultural sciences to strive for general theories, since human
culture could not be understood in terms of universal abstractions. Cultural
events had to be seen as the creations of free individuals, as expressions
of a free and creative human spirit.
Abstract conventional theories were necessary in the natural sciences,
but the specific historical interests of the cultural sciences, and the need
to understand the causes of these unique events, precluded abstract
reasoning. The causes of human behavior were not mechanical, and 'psy-
chology could not be reduced to a set of laws. The nature of cultural facts
was such that they could not be explained in terms of models, but had to
be intuited and re-experienced in order to be understood. What was impor-
tant was individuality, its creative potential and its spiritual unity.
Although, like the first trend we have described, this "intuitionist" move-
ment took a variety of forms in the hands of its various proponents, it was
especially prominent among German historians and philosophers of his to-
ry such as Windelband, Rickert, and Dilthey; its relationship to German
romantic thought and Idealist philosophy is indisputable. A similar philo-
sophical system was developed by the Italian historian-philosopher Bened-
etto Croce, and Vossler developed his system of Idealist linguistics under
the acknowledged influence of Croce's philosophy of history and aesthetics.
Language as Art and the Idea of Linguistic Study
According to Croce, there are two types of human knowledge: intellectual

knowledge, which is universal and logical but necessarily abstract, and
intuition, the concrete and direct creative expression of the human spirit.
Abstract and universal knowledge is useless when applied to the life of the
spirit, for by trying to understand man abstractly and universally we
eliminate that which gives man his individuality, we eliminate his creativity
and freedom, all essential attributes of man. A historical law was, according
to Croce, a contradiction in terms, since "history means concretion and
individuality and law and concept means abstraction and universality."IJ
The study of history, as a study of the individual and the concrete, fell
within the realm of intuition, and required the sympathetic re-creation of
the original spiritual experience.
This conception of history as individuality and of the study of history as
intuition constituted the starting points of Vossler's theory of Idealist
linguistics. He insisted on the impossibility of understanding the creative
life of the spirit, and thus also of language, in terms of abstract and
universal concepts. Vossler defined language as spiritual expression and
intuition. He argued that language is eminently creative and individual, and
thus also aesthetic. The language of every individual is artistic, and thus
not essentially different from the creative use of language by writers and
poets. The difference is not one of essence but of quality, of absolute
originality:
Linguistic thought is essentially poetic thought, linguistic truth is artistic truth, meaningful
beauty. To the extent that all of us create linguistic forms, all of us are poets and artists -
though in our ordinary lives, to be sure, we are rather minor, mediocre, fragmentary and
unoriginal artists.14
But if language is essentially poetic and aesthetic, then linguistics is really

a part of the wider history of literature and art, and thus also of the history
of culture - of the human spirit's expressiveness and freedom.15
Vossler acknowledged the possibility of examining language abstractly
and universally, but in his view such an undertaking would never enable
the linguist to explain why language changes or why it changes in a
particular direction. He distinguished between the study of abstract
grammar, which was forever limited to the classification offacts and which
precluded a real understanding of linguistic change and linguistic history,
and the study oflinguistic creativity, which was the only truly historical and
causal science of language.
According to Vossler, grammatical studies of language began by
abstracting from all spiritual activity and cultural history. Thus they treated
language as a mechanical object and all its changes as natural events.
In short, the essential object of grammar is a language detached from all spiritual activity and
from all spiritual life.
158 Chapter VI
But why this isolation? What can remain ofinterest at all, once the special features of speakers
and the goals of their speech have become matters of indifference? Well, just the manner in
which this speech happens or is made. Since, after this abstracting process is completed, it
can no longer be a spiritual event or action, there remains only a natural, mechanical
formation. In fact, all linguistic life, as understood by the grammatical method, is reduced to
such processes, to the mechanism of the physical organism and the mechanism of the psyche. 16
According to the Idealists, by using abstraction and constructing general

concepts the grammarians were able to develop an all-inclusive, but
intrinsically empty system of linguistic change. This type of linguistic
inquiry began by abstraction and treated language as a thing, and therefore
it could not be truly explanatory. As soon as linguists attempted to explain
historical events, they had to abandon their abstractions and return to the
cultural, the spiritual understanding of phenomena. The isolation from the
spiritual character of language had to be abandoned as soon as questions
about the causes of specific historical events were raised. Abstract
grammar could not answer questions such as "why has a given event
happened at a given time and in a given placeT' except by returning to the
truly historical, truly individual, and truly spiritual essence oflanguage. As
soon as historical questions were asked, "the initial detachment oflanguage
from spiritual achievement and individuality is transcended. For in
linguistic history, the act of speaking appears no longer as a value- and
sense-free making of words , but as the characteristic expression of a unique
spiritual type, and as the appropriate tool for the creation and transmission
of cultural values." 17
But the study of language as a creative and spiritual expression was for
Vossler not only the ultimate goal oflinguistic science, but also its starting
point. He criticized the Neogrammarians not only for their failure to go
beyond an abstract psychological and grammatical understanding of the
process oflinguistic change, but also for their inability to recognize the true
essence of language and the function of its changes and elements.
Once language was defined as expression and as an art form, all of its
elements appeared in a new light. It was the aesthetic essence oflanguage,
the speaker's desire to express his spiritual life, which informed all the
elements oflanguage and ultimately caused all linguistic change. And since
language was to be understood first and foremost as expression, the basis
and the starting point of linguistics had to become stylistics, the study of
individual expression. According to Vossler, the Neogrammarian practice
of beginning with phonetics and going on from there to morphology and
syntax was totally misleading, for it allowed the Neogrammarians to study

all the elements of language without any understanding of their character.
If a linguist recognized that all elements of language were means of
expression, that all were meaningful, then all phonetic, morphological, or
syntactic changes became reflections of the changing aesthetic taste of the
speakers, of their desire for expression.
Vossler disputed even the Neogrammarian distinction between sound
change and analogy. In his opinion, sound change and analogy, as well as
all other linguistic changes, were ultimately caused by the same creative
impulses of individual speakers to develop a style best suited to express
their aesthetic intuitions. The speaker's creativity could take different
forms, some of which were phonetic, others morphological or syntactical,
but all of them were ultimately stylistic and semantic, and all of them were
reflections of a spiritual unity.
But for us it is not language with its sounds which is autonomous, but rather the spirit which
creates it, and forms and moves it, and conditions it in all its smallest details. The task of
linguistic science is thus none other than this: to show the spirit as the sole effective cause
of all linguistic forms!S
Thus linguistics had to begin with the proper understanding of language

and the spiritual nature of its changes. Vossler presented this argument also
as an argument for "induction." Even if linguists wanted to describe what
was general in language, and wanted to abstract from the specific and
concrete linguistic usage of individuals to the passivity of group language,
they should begin by studying the individual and the creative, since
everything that later might have become general was initially individual and
stylistic. Abstractly, linguistics was able to study only the passive aspects
of language, but to begin from these passive common elements was to
falsify their initial character and forego any causal understanding of
language.
Style is the individual, as against the general, use of language. Yet general usage could
fundamentally be nothing but the approximate sum of all possible, or at least of the most
important, individual usages. Linguistic usage prescribes syntax to the extent that it is
conventional, i.e. a set of rules. Stylistics regards linguistic usage to the extent that it is
individual. But the inductive path leads from the individual to the general, from the single case
to the convention, and not the other way around. So first stylistics. then syntax. 19
160 Chapter VI
Again and again, Vossler returned to the contradiction between the Neo-
grammarian theory of language and their attempt to explain historical
events in a deterministic, causal manner. Recognizing the abstraction of
theoretical concepts, he agreed with his Neogrammarian predecessors that
the proper goal oflinguistics was a causal, and thus a concrete explanation
of the history pf language. He argued that scientific understanding had to
be immediate and that its concepts, in order to be useful, had to reflect
reality directly. The intervention of the scientist himself, the influence of the
observer on his object of study, had to be eliminated. Vossler's inductivism
wa" finally only another expression of his belief that if scientists were to
understand the objects of their study, they had to remain passive receptors.
The interpretation of Vossler's theory in terms of his empiricism might
appear peculiar in the context of his Idealist ontology. After all, Vossler
posited entities and qualities - spirit, inner language form, the creative
freedom of man - which we do not usually associate with empiricism. But
for Vossler, the spirit, with its freedom, expressivity, and creativity, was not
an abstract hypothetical entity but an ultimate and experienced reality of
human nature, which could be investigated empirically, and could be
known directly, through intuition. What distinguished Vossler's theory
from that of the Neogrammarians was not a different understanding of the
goals of linguistics, nor a different conception of the role of the scientist
towards his object, but a different ontology.
Having defined language as the spiritual expression of individuals,
Vossler believed he had solved the problem of the ultimate causes of
linguistic change. But by individualizing language in this manner, he was
left with the necessity of explaining why different individuals, each
"creating his own language," nevertheless speak in a similar manner and
adopt changes introduced by others. To explain this, Vossler invoked the
essential similarity of individuals belonging to the same national com-
munity. The spiritual unity of the Yolk remained as the only explanation of
the similarity in its language.
That there is a connection between national character, mental disposition, and language is
as yet questioned by most philologists, or at any rate dismissed as scientifically unprovable.
As a matter offact it is not a question of natural or even of historical causal connections, but
of a phenomenological relation.
The French do not speak French because they have a French attitude, type of mind, or
character, but simply because they speak. Their language become French, not because of some
outside influence, but because of themselves; and through their speech ... their national
character is embodied and realized in what we call the French language.2°
Language as an expression of spirit was individual, and therefore it changed

in accordance with the aesthetic sense of individual speakers. What
linguistics had to explain were these individual innovations, for this was the
active part of language, and the individual spirit was always the effective
cause of change. On this level, linguistic study was purely aesthetic and
merged with the history of literature.
However, as soon as linguists wanted to understand why certain changes
introduced by individuals spread throughout the community, they were
dealing with the passive elements oflanguage; they were no longer search-
ing for causes, but for conditions. The spread of an innovation testified to
the spiritual unity of a group of individuals, to the similarity of their cultural
or aesthetic sensibilities. This cultural spiritUal unity was revealed when
linguistic changes were viewed in the context of wider cultural develop-
ment. Such examination required that a researcher move from the level of
individual style to that of the aesthetic taste of a group or country. Thus,
Vossler distinguished between two types of linguistic study: the purely
stylistic and aesthetic study of individual artists whose creations needed to
be examined as expressions of their individuality; and the historical-
aesthetic study oflinguistic development, the study of cultural changes and
linguistic innovations which together revealed the spiritual unity of a
community.
Thus we arrive at a new and essentially consequent idealistic system of linguistic science
involving:
1) the purely aesthetic, and
2) the aesthetic-historical observation of language.
The former can only be monographic, investigating individual forms of expression in and of
themselves, independently of one another, in terms of their special individuality and their
particular content. The latter must work comprehensively and taxonomically, investigating the
linguistic forms of peoples and epochs both chronologically, according to eras and periods,
and geographically, in terms of nations and races, and finally according to their "national
character" and spiritual relationships.21
In his actual historical works, Vossler and his students exemplified both
the purely aesthetic and the aesthetic-historical approaches to the study of
language. Vossler himself devoted much of his attention to the history of
Romance literatures, and many of his students worked exclusively as
162 Chapter VI
Romance literary scholars concentrating on stylistic studies ofliterary texts

and trying to understand them as expressions of the spirit of individual
authors.22 But Vossler also analyzed the history of the French language in
the context of the wider cultural world, attempting to explain language
development in terms of the spiritual propensities of its speakers?3
Similarly, Eugen Lerch, one of Vossler's students, explained various
aspects of French syntax in terms of the spiritual (cultural, social, and
political) characteristics of the French nation, while Etienne Lorck gave
stylistic interpretations of "indirect speech" and of various changes in the
use of French verb tenses?4 As a rule, Vossler's students did not write
about linguistic theory (which is the reason for my concentration on Vossler
in this chapter), but attempted to follow Vossler's theoretical pronounce-
ments in their empirical work, both in linguistics and in literary history.
Vossler's double conception of linguistics unites the study of language
with literary history and ultimately with the history of culture in general.
In this Vossler clearly appealed to the old ideals of philology as a holistic
study of the cultural world. Although Vossler justified this conception of
linguistics on purely philosophical and theoretical grounds, the unification
of linguistics and literature also had its institutional determinants. As we
shall see shortly, such a unification accorded well with the so-called "crisis
of learning," a shared perception of a serious threat to the German
university system. As part of the reaction to this crisis, the Neo-Idealists
tried to restore the traditional unity of philological studies.
This analysis of Vossler's Idealist linguistics has repeatedly drawn
attention to the continuities between his idea system and that of the
positivist Neogrammarians whom the Idealists so strenuously opposed.
We have seen that these continuities resulted from the Idealists' attempts
to construct an idea system which would address the same problematics
as those set forth in Neogrammarian linguistics, while avoiding the incon-
sistencies which were embedded in the N eogrammarian theory oflinguistic
change. The Neogrammarian framework presented the Idealists (and the
structuralists) with what appeared to be unresolvable contradictions
between the goal of an adequate causal explanation of unique historical
changes and the ideal of a nomothetic science of language. It was this
apparent paradox within the Neogrammarian doctrine which provided the
starting point for the alternative solutions of the Idealists and the struc-
turalists. The Idealist solution involved the rejection of the possibility of
formulating laws governing language; and, in this context, the intuitionist
philosophy of history, formulated in reaction to similar problems which
faced a number of other historical sciences at the turn of the century, served
the Idealists as a resource providing them with a justification for the
rejection of this possibility. At the same time, since the basic problem which
the Idealists aimed to solve was dictated by the Neogrammarian idea
system, the Idealists took over a number of other philosophical assump-
tions from their predecessors. The area of tacit agreement between the two
schools was extended to include the belief that scientific concepts should
avoid abstraction, that one can explain linguistic change only by analyzing
the linguistic performances of individual speakers, that inductivism is the
only legitimate scientific method, etc. The Neogrammarian idea system
served in this sense as a source of constraints for the Idealist doctrine -
it not only specified the basic problem which linguistics must address, but
it also imposed philosophical conditions on what could constitute an
adequate solution to this problem. In other words, the Idealists' decision
to retain the goal of causal explanation of individual linguistic changes
implied a number of other philosophical continuties between the Idealist
and the Neogrammarian idea systems. As we shall see in the following
chapter, the structuralists' rejection of this goal involved the simultaneous
rejection of these philosophical assumptions and offered the possibility of
a degree of theoretical continuity which was impossible for the Idealists
precisely because they accepted these philosophical assumptions. But
although in both cases we can speak of a cognitive dynamics which steered
cognitive development in a particular direction, the question of why the two
schools proposed such different solutions to the difficulties within the
Neogrammarian framework is still in need of an answer. The mere pos-
sibility of alternative solutions and the presence of similar problems in
other philosophical and historical sciences does not tell us why specific and
different solutions were formulated by the two groups. In order to address
this question it is necessary to consider the institutional contexts of the
Idealist (and structuralist) schools, and this is the task of the following
section.
Moreover, we must remember that despite the areas of continuity,
linguistics as envisaged by Vossler had ultimately little in common with the
Neogrammarian science of language. Not only did Vossler change the
definition of language, but he based this change on a radically different
conception of reality. He rejected or redefined all the Neogrammarian
concepts (from sound law and analogy to speech community). He moved
the entire discipline from a theoretical dependence on psychology to a
dependence on aesthetics and cultural history. Although, like the
164 Chapter VI
Neogrammarians, he argued for methodological individualism, his indi-

viduals were not those of the Neogrammarians; although he insisted on the
need for empiricism and expressed interest in causal explanations, his
empirical world and the causes he invoked would have been regarded by
the Neogrammarians as pure and useless fictions. This divergence was
possible not only because of the problems within the Neogrammarian
doctrine, but also because of changes in the intellectual climate in Germany
in the early years of the twentieth century. As we shall see, the divergence
introduced by the Idealists was in part a response to changes in German
academia and the institutional position of linguistics in Germany.
The Denial of Linguistics: Neo-Idealists and the Crisis of Learning
The Neo-Idealistic attack against Neogrammarian doctrine coincided with

a more general reaction against positivism and against its influence on the
social sciences and humanities. This anti-positivist reaction was strongest
in Germany, where it began in the 1890s and continued through the 1920s.
While the successive German critiques of positivism were prompted by
internal tensions and contradictions within positivist philosophy, they were
also conditioned by changes in the social status and role of university
professors. Traditional academic values were threatened by the expansion
of the universities and the growing professionalization and specialization
of academic research that accompanied the industrial modernization of
Germany. These tendencies were also perceived as weakening the influence
of the professoriate on German social, political and cultural life. In an effort
to deal with the new environment and to counteract the apparent erosion
of its own influence, the German academic community began to re-examine
and reinterpret the neo-humanist and idealist ideas of the early nineteenth
century, the sources of the German philosophical and educational tradi-
tions. Positivism, whose influence in Germany dated only from the 1850s,
was strongly associated with the modern utilitarian, technological, and
materialist era; together with psychologism and materialism, it was held
responsible for the perversion of the values of pure science and cultivation.
In his book The Decline of the German Mandarins, Fritz Ringer traces in
detail the critiques and re-evaluations of the academic and intellectual
traditions, and examines their links with changes in the university and in
society.
About 1920, German academics began to speak of an existing crisis of learning (Krise der
Wissenschaft). The word crisis, of course, had been used a great deal since the 1890s. There
had been repeated references to a social and cultural crisis, and the demand for a reexami-
nation of scholarly methods and purposes had always been included in the discussions of
cultural decadence. Thus the crisis of learning did not appear unexpectedly upon the Weimar
scene. It was not given a name until relatively late, perhaps because the mandarins became
truly desperate about their situation only during the 1920s. In substance, though, the crisis
of learning arose well before it was finally labelled. It really originated around 1890, when
German university professors first began to feel that scholarship had lost some of its former
influence and vitality. From that moment on, there was growing revulsion against "positivism"
and "psychologism" in learning. 25
As Ringer reports, the critiques of positivism and the critical returns to the
idealist philosophies of the first part of the century stimulated the develop-
ment of a number of original philosophical systems and social theories. The
neo-Kantians, Windelband, Dilthey, Toennies, Weber, and Simmel, all to
some extent drew upon the same sources and reacted to the same
problems. The confrontation between the ideals of humanistic education
and the actual practice of university teaching and research, which were
increasingly technical and specialized, also produced a long-lasting con-
troversy about the methods and goals of the university and of education
in general. Many of the most prominent academics of the time, including
a number of philologists and linguists, argued about the relationship
between the university and politics, about the role of classical philology in
secondary schools, and about the necessity of reforms in the Gymnasium
and the university.
The Neo-Idealist school oflinguistics developed in the midst of this crisis
oflearning. As part of the anti-positivist reaction, it was formed by the same
social and institutional pressures and cognitive problems that led to attacks
against the reigning "positivist" idea systems in other disciplines. The
Neo-Idealists in linguistics were not alone in their crusade against the
errors of the past, and this very fact shaped some of the characteristics of
the new school. At the same time, the particular institutional situation of
comparative and historical linguistics and its relationship to other
academic disciplines mediated and modified the manner in which general
pressures and problems contributed to the formation of the school. There-
fore, in an effort to understand the emergence of the Neo-Idealists, it is
useful to examine the interaction between the forces promoting the revival
of idealism and neo-humanism and the institutional situation of German
linguistics around the turn of the century.
166 Chapter VI
The formal organization of the university and the location of linguistics

among academic disciplines did not change significantly between 1878,
when Brugmann and Osthoff published the Neogrammarian manifesto,
and 1904, when Vossler called for the creation of an idealist linguistics in
his Positivismus und Idealismus in der Sprachwissenschaft. Throughout this
time, linguistics remained basically a specialty associated with the various
philological disciplines. Even the creation of several university chairs
devoted exclusively to linguistics (beginning in the late l880s) did not
change the fact that much linguistic research was conducted within the
specialized philological disciplines by professors who also studied and
taught non-linguistic philological SUbjects. And, perhaps most importantly,
much of the teaching of linguistics took place within the context of the
specialized philological education of future secondary school language
teachers.
The Neogrammarians strengthened this infiltration oflinguistics into the
various philological fields (especially into the rapidly growing study of
modern languages). Their revisions of the linguistic idea system served to
equalize the scientific importance of the various languages: uniformi-
tarianism meant that not only Sanskrit, Greek and Latin, but also German,
French, Italian or Russian were worthy of linguistic investigation. At the
same time, the Neogrammarians argued repeatedly that comparative and
historical linguistics provided a necessary background for the study of all
philological topics, and that language teaching could benefit from the
introduction of the principles of historical and comparative linguistics.
Several leaders of the Neogrammarian school advocated that the study of
linguistics be required for language teachers and that language instruction
be informed by linguistic principles; Delbriick argued this in 1875, Osthoff
in 1879, and Brugmann in 1910. 26
The changed direction in the method ofiinguistics could now, I believe, be beneficial, to some
extent, also for the study of grammar in schools. Consider with me, gentlemen, the following
two facts: first, that very many grammatical problems whose solution earlier appeared
possible only through an unmediated return to distant proto-Indo-European times, can today
fortunately be solved by a linguist without his having to step over the borders of the history
and special development of particular languages; and secondly, that it is pedagogically
inadmissible to treat special comparative linguistics in the Gymnasium. A practical school
teacher opposes with good reasons the piling up of Sanskrit forms to a Gymnasium student,
and the explanation of the obscure by means of the even more obscure.
However, when a possibility presents itself to exercise the true linguistic method within limits
drawn not too narrowly, without Sanskrit and further comparisons, does it not seem proper
to test whether perhaps in its new form the historical linguistics should not claim a place in
secondary education?27
Osthoff's argument suggests how the Neogrammarian innovations could

directly benefit the situation of linguistics within academia. If both the
learning and the teaching of languages were to be based on a knowledge
of the historical development of language, then linguistics was not a
marginal and esoteric academic discipline but a vital part of university
education for secondary school teachers of Latin, Greek, French, English,
and German.
Despite these Neogrammarian claims, the position of linguistics within
the various philological fields was not entirely secure. While historical
studies oflanguage continued to playa major role in philological research,
their role in language instruction was not assured. As Walter Kuhfuss
reports, some philologists argued, beginning in the 1880s, that rather than
basing itself on historical linguistics, the teaching of modern languages
should become more practically oriented, relying on active phonetic
exercises and aiming towards the spoken mastery of everyday language. 28
The modern language reform movement, as it came to be known, was not
altogether successful. Classical languages continued to provide a model for
all language teaching, and the study of modern languages continued to rely
heavily on historical grammar, at least on the university level. An anecdote
repeated by Hugo Schuchardt vividly illustrates the problem:
As a typical example of how language was studied in his (Schuchardt's) time, he mentions an
incident which happened to Musafia (sic), who asked one of his students to write on the
blackboard "the emperor called on Roland" in old French: "Ii emperere at appelet Rolant."
- "Well, now write the sentence in modern French.' - "Herr Professor, Neufranzosisch habe
ich noch nicht betrieben."29
Still, as the century was drawing to a close and the need for efficient
methods of instruction in foreign languages was increasing, the reform
movement gained ground. This can be seen, for example, in the increased
number of "lectors" teaching languages at the universities. The position of
"lector," a university instructor who was not necessarily engaged in
scientific research but who was responsible for practical language training,
had been virtually eliminated earlier in the century, only to be reinstated
in the 1900s. 30
More than the traditional linguistic emphasis was threatened by the
adoption of the postulates of the reform movement. By advocating
168 Chapter VI
efficiency and a utilitarian orientation in language teaching, the reform

seemed to undermine the scientific status of philological instruction at the
universities. While the teaching of historical grammar and comparative
methods was closely related to the research conducted by philology
professors, the new method's emphasis on language drills and phonetic
exercises separated teaching and research and transformed the teaching of
languages into a practical skill. Professionalism was making its way into the
pure philological disciplines.
Opposition to the utilitarian and technically oriented university instruc-
tion constituted one of the distinguishing features of the "crisis oflearning."
Beginning in the 1890s, German academics complained frequently that "a
vulgar practicality predominated over the 'free' search for ideal truth."3l
There was universal agreement among German scholars after 1890 that the modern German
idea of the university and ofiearning was irrevocably tied to its intellectual origins in German
Idealism and neo-humanism. The university as conceived by Humboldt, Schleiermacher and
Fichte, the arguments against the practicality of Halle, and even the actual organization of
Berlin University were thought to define the German ideal of higher education for all future
ages. The decades around 1800 came to seem a period of primitive purity ... According to Carl
Becker, the universities then had the standing of national sanctuaries. Inspired by German
Idealist philosophy and dedicated to a Faustian search for "pure" truth, they were carefully
protected against premature demands for practical results. Like "fortresses of the grail," they
were meant to have a spiritually ennobling rather than a narrowly utilitarian influence upon
the disciples ofleaming and upon the nation as a whole. 32
As Ringer remarks, the sources of this aversion to merely utilitarian

learning were rooted not only in the Idealist and neo-humanist traditions;
in defending their traditional values of Bi/dung and WissenschaJt, the
German academics were also defending their status as "sages" rather than
technical experts or professionals delivering a specialized service to a
student clientele. The German professoriate wanted to be regarded as a
national elite providing moral and intellectual leadership in a country
undergoing rapid industrial modernization.
Alfred Weber got to the heart of the problem when he lamented the reduced impact of the
German intellectuals upon their nation. His whole argument was based upon the traditional
distinction between knowledge as wisdom and knowledge as merely technical analysis. The
point is that the mandarins were never content to cultivate their own gardens. They thought
of themselves as a priestly caste and they meant to legislate ultimate values to a peasant
population ... Technological change accelerated the dissolution of wisdom, because it made
the achievement of intellectual "totality" more difficult. Intellectual specialization and the
growth of "objective geist" had the same effect.33
The same concerns that in other fields made academics critical of

utilitarian and practical tendencies in the universities in general were
expressed in philology as arguments against the merely practical teaching
of modern languages and against modernist school reforms which would
limit the number of hours devoted to the study of classical languages. If the
university was to be devoted to integral cultivation, if research and teaching
were to remain closely united, then the study of modern languages should
not be an exclusively pragmatic endeavor, but rather an inseparable
element of a broadly understood study of philology. In other words, in order
for the university to remain faithful to its true goals, the Humboldtian
cultivation of the entire personality through the teaching of all subjects,
including language, had to be synthetic and informed by the values of pure
Wissenschafi·
On the most basic level, this meant that language instruction should be
based not only on the presentation of grammatical principles but also on
their scientific explanation. Eugen Lerch, a student and follower of Vossler,
believed that "modern language teachers at higher institutions must be
capable, in their grammar lessons, not only of pounding in rules but also
of elucidating grammatical explanations."34 More generally, the Neo-
Idealists contrasted the practical and pedantic views of a typical language
teacher and his narrowly positivist conception of philology with their own
true, "spiritual" ideal of philology.
The word "philology" is today doubly tainted: on the one hand it stinks of pedagogy, and on
the other of that positivistic science of speech and literature which serves us as an indispensa-
ble foundation to be sure, but is in no way a goal. We would like to understand the word with
the old, grand, spriritual contents of the past as "Philologia sacra et profana."35
Opposition to utilitarianism in learning and the consequent rejection of

the separation between teaching and research, went hand in hand with a
critique of certain forms of intellectual specialization. Confined to a narrow
field of expertise, a scholar lost his ability to understand and evaluate the
totality of experience. As an intellectual reflection of the fragmented
character of modern life, undue specialization seemed to undermine the
ability of individual teachers and of the university as a whole to present
students with a unified Weltanschauung. Fragmented and dispersed
knowledge could not serve as a foundation for the harmonious cultivation
of individuality, nor could it contribute to an integrated and critical
understanding of national culture. Lacking a synthetic, philosophically
170 Chapter VI
informed understanding of the world, a university professor became a mere

professional servant of those who directed social, cultural, and economic
life. As a specialist, he could provide neither moral nor institutional
guidance and had to abdicate his responsibility for setting national goals
and cultural ideals.
Again and again, the mandarins lamented the predominance of specialization and positivism
in wissenschaft. Apparently these terms were intended to describe a considerable range of sins.
The educationalist Eduard Spranger dated that positivist wave from about 1840 and spoke
of the transformation of "the metaphysical totality of learning (metaphysische Gesamtwissen-
schaft) into a sum of specialized disciplines." He observed a growing differentiation between
wissenschaft and occupational training and an equally serious rift between learning and
weltanschauung. Jaspers took note of the same phenomenon. German academics felt a sense
of guilt, he wrote, because they failed as "bearers of tradition" in losing sight of "the conceptual
world of metaphysics." ... The philosopher Max Scheler, finally, scoffed at the "one-sided
occupationalism" of his contemporaries and at a specialization "which has systematically
given up all agreement in questions of purpose as distinct from all questions of technique."
He felt that German higher education was no longer producing "men of mind (geistige
Personen), who affect the whole of the nation's life as models and leaders."36
Academic aversion to the "merely" practical and professional view of

learning was translated in philology into the demand that teaching remain
united with research and that language instruction incorporate a scientific
understanding of the principles of linguistics; and the critique of speciali-
zation was reflected in the Neo-Idealist disapproval of the "atomistic"
treatment of linguistic facts by the positivists. Vossler and his students
rejected any treatment of language which portrayed it as independent of
other manifestations of the human spirit. The unity of philology had to be
restored, and this meant not only that it was illegitimate to treat phonetic
facts as distinct from morphology, or syntax as independent of esthetic
concerns of style, but also that linguistic phenomena could not be under-
stood apart from the entire cultural life of the Volk. Language, literature,
art, and national character could not be treated separately as isolated
entities; they could be comprehended only as manifestations of an ideal
totality.
Idealistic philology is one that strives towards an ideal, i.e., that seeks the spiritual element
in a body oflanguage and investigates details for the sake of the whole. There oUght to be no
other kind of philology, and idealistic philology should be as nonsensical as "nocturnal night."
Everyone who works seriously, even if he writes a folio volume on the dot over the epenthetic
"i", is an idealistic philologist to the extent that he remains conscious only of a spiritual goal
and of a totality to be striven toward. 37
The Neo-Idealists believed that their main task was to restore the unity of
philology by uniform treatment and a common method of explanation for
all linguistic and literary phenomena. This goal could be achieved only if
the investigation of every aspect of language and literature were to be
informed by a philosophical understanding of the totality from which they
emanated. This did not mean that the Neo-Idealists rejected all forms of
specialization - on the contrary, in the 1920s Vossler delivered a lecture
in which he explicitly condemned the interpretation of Hildung as
unspecialized general learning.3 8 Specialization was both necesary and
unavoidable, he argued, and the ideal of a Renaissance man was a folly,
but precisely because specialization was unavoidable, it was necessary for
scholars to be aware of broader philosophical issues. The accusation that
positivists dealt only with isolated facts and were unable to explain the
causes of linguistic phenomena was a corollary of the Neo-Idealist belief
that only a synthetic understanding of the cultural and social world could
raise philology to the level of a true Geisteswissenschaft. In his appreciation
of Vossler, Victor Klemperer presents the Neo-Idealist version of the
history of philology, emphasizing the opposition between the "atomizing"
and specialized positivist linguistics and the philosophically informed and
integrated Idealist philology:
Those were the days of positivism; philology was treated as a natural science. Language was
understood as essentially a physical matter; the work of the philologist consisted in the exact
observation and collection of individual facts; it consisted finally in the mechanistic expla-
nation of rows offacts. And then Vossler pointed language toward the kingdom of the spirit,
grasped it as poetry, observed "Language as Creation and Development" - this was the title
of his second work in this field - and sought spiritual explanations for its phenomena.... For
Vossler's philosophy of language, essentially the same aspects were valid as had been valid
for the neo-Romantic writers: not that Vossler was imitating the Romantics, but rather
developing their ideas further through a new spirituality that had drawn rich nourishment from
the intervening era of positivism. 39
As Klemperer notes, the Neo-Idealists' return to early nineteenth-century

thought involved much more than the simple reproduction of old
philosophical ideas. Rather - and this was true not only of the Idealists in
linguistics but of the German anti-positivist reaction in general - the
original neo-humanist and Idealist beliefs were used to criticize prevailing
standards of scholarship and reformulated in such a way that they could
help explore and solve the problems facing the academic world during the
late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. For example, the
172 Chapter VI
Humboldtian idea that language should be studied as an expression of the

national spirit was used by the Neo-Idealists to criticize the positivist
fragmentation of knowledge and to restore the unity of philology. At the
same time, the Neo-Idealists' interest in modern languages and literatures
was dictated neither by Idealism nor by neo-humanism, but by an un-
acknowledged practical need for teachers of French and English. In other
words, even if the philosophical concerns of the Idealists and their
methodological orientations were based on the systems of early nine-
teenth-century philosophy, their substantive interests and concerns were
a reflection of the needs of a modern society.
Even though the academics, on the whole, submitted to the social
demand for specialized practical learning, they considered such tendencies
as destructive of true Wissenschaft and responsible for the subversion ofthe
traditional- if somewhat mythical- ideals of the university as an institution
devoted to pure learning and research. The Neo-Idealist reaction was an
attempt to save these traditional values by preserving the unity of teaching
and research, by treating education as cultivation, and by striving toward
an integral and philosophically informed understanding of cultural and
social life. As a result, the Neo-Idealists studied modern languages and
focused on more recent literary periods even as they continued to insist on
the purity and unity of philosophical research, on the need to base language
teaching on a broad philological understanding oflanguages and the people
who spoke them, and on a holistic view of linguistic, literary, and other
cultural and social "manifestations of spiritual life."
As we have seen, the development of Neo-Idealist linguistics was only
one aspect of a larger academic movement. As such, it was conditioned not
only by cognitive problems within the idea system oflinguistics but also by
more general changes affecting the situation of the academic community
as a whole.
But the general social pressures that brought about the Idealist revival
in linguistics had an unexpected institutional consequence that suggests
why the Neo-Idealists formed a school of thought, why they encountered
so much critical opposition, and why they eventually disappeared as a
significant movement within linguistics (though not within philology).
Given the fact that throughout the nineteenth century linguists did not,
as a rule, attempt to establish linguistics as a separate discipline (with the
important exception of Schleicher), comparative and historical linguistics
existed in institutional terms primarily as a specialty within the different
philological disciplines, and enjoyed only a relatively limited degree of
autonomy. Even this limited independence was threatened by the attacks

against specialization in learning. Based on a distinctive methodology,
historical and comparative linguistics often seemed to be dealing with
details, disconnected facts, and minor pedantic problems. This made it
particularly vulnerable to charges of "positivism," thoughtless speciali-
zation, and indifference towards larger philosophical questions. These
accusations seemed to imply that linguistics should become better
integrated with the broader philological studies. The Idealists, promoting
their concept of philology as the study of all spiritual life, regarded the
separate and distinct treatment of language as at most a preparatory step.
In general, they believed that language should be considered as an aspect
of the spiritual life of a community, and that it could be understood only
in the context of other cultural and artistic creations. If the Idealists
excelled in stylistics, it was not only because they emphasized the indi-
vidual and creative aspects of language but also because stylistics allowed
for a full merging of linguistic and literary studies.
The loss of autonomy which linguistics suffered at the hands of the
Idealists was reflected in their works (all Idealists were also literary
scholars) and in the periodicals they edited.40 There, literature and
language were often treated together and investigated with the help of
similar methods. Explanations of linguistic and literary phenomena, if not
identical, were of the same kind. The identification of language and art
repeated frequently by Vossler and his disciples epitomized this dissolution
of linguistics in philology. Both language and literature, according to
Vossler, were to be studied with the same methods, as results of the same
spiritual activity of man.
Our distinction between the aesthetic and the historical observation of language is not,
however, meant to introduce a new dualism into philology. As we understand the terms,
aesthetic and historic are not opposites; they are related in a manner analogous to the division
in the positivistic system between descriptive and explanatory grammar - with which our system
must in no way be confused or identified. We use aesthetic and historic to indicate two sides
of one and the same philological procedure, one which at bottom can only be comparative.
If one compares a linguistic expression with its corresponding psychic intuition, the obser-
vation is aesthetic; i.e., one is interpreting the "sense" of the expression. Everyone who hears
something spoken or reads something written is practising this activity: unconsciously, to be
sure, and unscientifically. But as soon as he does this with care and awareness, and thinks
about his interpretations, he is practising aesthetic linguistic science. - Further, whenever one
compares different or similar expressions and attempts to discover their etymological con-
nection, then the manner of observation becomes historical without for that reason ceasing
174 Chapter VI
to be aesthetic; i.e., what has been interpreted aesthetically becomes explained historically and
placed in the context of the development of language. 41
In a sense, the loss of the partial autonomy of linguistics, implicit in the

Neo-Idealists' merging of all investigations of culture and history, was the
cognitive culmination of a process of institutionalization of linguistics that
had begun much earlier. The Idealists' programmatic insistence on the
unity of all philological studies went beyond the traditional arguments
about the interdependence of the two areas of research presented by the
Neogrammarians. But it reaffirmed and legitimized an institutional status
quo in the modern philological disciplines, where professors taught both
linguistic and literary subjects, published articles on linguistics and on
literature often in the same journals, and compiled or edited surveys of their
fields that encompassed linguistic as well as literary and cultural histories
(e.g., Paul's history of German philology or Grober's work on Romance
philology).
The Idealists' transposition into philology of the more general critique
of pragmatism and specialization in academic science provided them with
an opportunity to claim scientific authority over a broad but institutionally
firmly circumscribed field of research. In an attempt to supersede the
(post-)N eogrammarian elite, Vossler and his students tried to unite literary
and linguistic competence and to shift the focus of attention within
philology to the history of more recent stages in the development of French,
Spanish, and Italian. All of these changes involved the exploitation of
changes in the prevailing intellectual and institutional conditions: the
anti-posivist rebellion, the increased need for modern language education,
or the de facto specialization involved in organizational expansion. This
extra-linguistic orientation of the Neo-Idealists is also evident in their
appeals for external legitimization. Instead of invoking philological or
linguistic authorities, they referred to academic philosophy, especially to
the writings of Croce and Dilthey. Attacking metaphysical rather than
methodological positivism, they called for a philosophical synthesis that
would allow for an integrated understanding of both language and litera-
ture. They did not dispute the Neogrammarians' facts, but only the
positivist interpretation of these facts, or rather the lack of any philosophi-
cal explanation of historical linguistic data.
Idealist linguistics was created as a result of the same pressures which
provoked anti-positivist reactions in other academic fields. As a school,
however, the Idealists attempted to utilize the anti-positivist reaction and
its popularity in order to legitimize their own attempts to redefine

linguistics and philology. It was this appeal for external legitimation and
the Idealists' dissolution of the partial autonomy of linguistics which
account in part for the largely critical reaction they encountered in
Germany. There, the loss oflinguistic identity and the complete dissolution
oflinguistics in philology proposed by the Idealists threatened the unity and
the status of the linguistic elite and their right to evaluate linguistic research
conducted in different philological disciplines. On the other hand, in a
situation in which linguistics had already achieved both institutional and
cognitive independence, the Idealist threat could easily be ignored, for once
institutional independence was assured (which was not yet the case in
Germany), the appeal to unite linguistic and literary studies in an all-
inclusive philological discipline appeared merely chimerical.
CHAPTER VII
SAUSSURE'S REVOLUTION FROM WITHIN
The transition from historical to structuralist linguistics which took place

in the first decades of the twentieth century is commonly regarded as a
major transformation in linguistic theory and research. It has been de-
scribed as a revolution in the science of language and its significance for
the development of twentieth-century linguistics cannot be denied. 1
Accordingly, a vocabulary of radical discontinuity has characterized many
discussions of the "gap" between nineteenth-century historical studies of
language change and twentieth-century structural analyses of language
states. Ferdinand de Saussure's lectures on general linguistics, published
posthumously as the Cours de linguistique genera Ie (1916), have been
described as "the start of a new era in the science of language" and as a
"revolutionary act of providing a new frame of reference in general
linguistics."2 This perception of incommensurability has been tempered
only by a wide-ranging search for some appropriate ancestors of structural
linguistics: for scholars who anticipated one or more ideas of the new
system, or who could have served as an inspiration to Saussure, the
recognized "father" of structurallinguistics. 3
The range of direct and indirect influences on Saussure which has been
suggested is truly staggering: from Hegel, Comte, and von Humboldt to
such rough contemporaries of Saussure as Jan Baudouin de Courtenay,
Mikolaj Kruszewski, William Dwight Whitney, Hermann Paul, Jost
Winteler, Anton Marty, Adolf Noreen, Carl Svedelius, Georg von der
Gabelentz, Michel Breal, Gaston Paris, and F. N. Finck, as well as a
number of non-linguists such as Emile Durkheim, Adrien Naville, Gabriel
Tarde, and Leon Walras. Saussure himself acknowledged the direct
influence, or at least registered his approval, of some of these thinkers
(Baudouin. Kruszewski, and Whitney, for example).4 Other influence is far
more conjectural. Still, there is hardly an idea in the Cours whose genealogy
has not been traced to some other source or two, and Saussure's role has
even been "reduced" to that of a great systematizer. 5
If, however, we are interested in the development of linguistics, or more
generally in the processes of scientific change, rather than in the person of
Ferdinand de Saussure (or in the general problem of creativity, for
176
Saussure's Revolution from Within 177
example), then the sometimes contentious question of whether or not

Saussure himself ever read a given work becomes irrelevant (as does the
importance of the exact wording of Saussure's own ideas before they were
molded into book form by Bally and Sechehaye, even though such original
sources might provide us with clues about the cognitive process which led
Saussure to formulate his ideas). For, independently of whether Saussure
was aware of any given work, the very fact that there are contemporary
works which express ideas similar to those we find in the Cours suggests
that there are systematic connections between Saussure's doctrine and
those of his predecessors. Such connections need not, of course, be those
of continuity alone, but as we have seen in the previous chapter, it is
misleading to assume that whenever we discover discontinuities in
cognitive development, they must always be random with respect to the
problems of previous theories. This disregard for the origins of dis-
continuity is the reason why so many of the studies searching for anti-
cipations of Saussure's ideas appear so chimerical. By selecting for
examination only those ideas in the works of older thinkers which bear
some resemblance to the ideas expressed by Saussure, these studies
atomize theoretical thought into a series of disconnected pronouncements
and terminological distinctions. But theories form systems of inter-
dependent ideas; they contain logical or quasi-logical arguments; and they
need to be examined in terms of these arguments and the problems they
pose. The habit of discovering pronouncements which foreshadow one or
another terminological distinction in a new synthesis appears doubly ironic
when applied to the thought of Saussure, the originator of structuralism in
the social sciences.
If, as Koerner and Iorgu Iordan have suggested, the ideas expressed in
the Cours were indeed "in the air" at the turn of the century, then the
obvious question is to ask why they were there; and to the best of my
knowledge, this question has not been addressed systematically. 6 In other
words, the problem to be considered concerns the cognitive process which
led several late nineteenth- and early twentieth- century linguists, especially
Saussure and his Geneva school disciples, to formulate a new theoretical
system in linguistics. What is the relationship between Saussure's thought
and the dominant linguistic theory or theories of his time? What aspects
of historical linguistics, as it was practiced at the end of the nineteenth
century - what tensions, unresolved issues, and contradictions in the
dominant Neogrammarian idea system - led to the new developments?
How were these new developments related to or influenced by other
178 Chapter VII
extra-linguistic, philosophical, or scientific changes which took place

during this period?
As we have argued in the previous chapter, it is most unlikely that any
major linguistic theory formulated around the turn of the century would
remain unaffected by the Neogrammarian credo. In the case of Ferdinand
de Saussure, an examination of the relationship between his ideas and
those of the Neogrammarians is virtually imperative. 7 Saussure was a
student in Leipzig from 1876 to 1878, during the period of the formation
of the Neogrammarian school. While in Leipzig he came into contact with,
and was taught by, a number ofleaders of the new school: August Leskien,
Hermann Osthoff, H. Hiibschmann, Wilhelm Braune, and Karl Brugmann.
His Memoire sur Ie systeme primitij des voyelles dans les langues indo-
europeennes (1878) was regarded by many as one of the major achievements
ofNeogrammarian thought; and although Saussure himself disavowed any
direct debt to the Neogrammarians, claiming that the findings presented
in the Memoire were totally his own (since he had discovered the nasalis
sonans independently of Brugmann and Osthoff, and had recognized the
principle of analogy long before coming into contact with the Leipzig
school), he nevertheless acknowledged the Neogrammarian contribution
to linguistics and claimed that
In 1876 and 1877. the university of Leipzig was the principal center of a scientific movement
which had consequences beneficial for Indo-European linguistics ( .. .) Its effect was to change
almost everything in comparative grammar of the Indo-European languages: not only from
the point of view of methods, but also - more immediately and more quickly - by recognizing
a series of facts which had been earlier misunderstood so that the discipline had until then
been based on a false idea of the phonetic state of the original idiom which constitutes the
basis of (its) investigation. 8
In addition to this testimony and to the direct biographical connection

between Saussure and the Neogrammarians, there is strong textual
evidence indicating that Saussure's ideas concerning historical linguistics
were very similar to, if not identical with, those expressed by the Neo-
grammarians. The Cours contains a long section on historical or diachronic
linguistics which in many respects is simply a restatement of
Neogrammarian principles. It was perhaps the combination of the two
factors - the lack of originality of Saussure's notions about historical
linguistics and his insistence on a strict separation of diachrony and
synchrony - which prevented investigators from analyzing in detail the
relationship between these two aspects of Saussure's idea system. 9 As we

shall see, it was precisely the problems within the Neogrammarian view of
historical linguistics that served as the basis for Saussure's notion of
structural synchronic studies.
All this should not suggest that there are only continuities between the
Neogrammarians and early structuralist linguistics. But in order to isolate
the discontinuities and relate them, if possible, to the institutional and
intellectual contexts of linguistic research, it is necessary to consider first
both the continuities and the genesis of the discontinuities within the
Neogrammarian idea system. To accomplish this task it will prove useful
to draw on the evidence of other contemporaneous theoretical works in
linguistics which to some extent shared Saussure's Neogrammarian
background. By drawing on such works we can substantiate some of the
reconstruction of the logic of the development of linguistics in this period
and isolate more clearly the discontinuities involved in the transition from
nineteenth- to twentieth-century linguistics. The selection of these other
works is to some extent eclectic, though in part also traditional. We will
concentrate on the works ofBaudouin de Courtenay and Kruszewski, and
on a book by one of Saussure's own students, Albert Sechehaye, which was
published during Saussure's lifetime and was criticized by him in an
extremely revealing fashion. Sechehaye's work, Programme et methodes de
ta linguistique tMorique (1908), is a particularly good example of these
processes of change: it makes many of the same distinctions that are made
by Saussure (at least partly under his influence, no doubt), but fails to make
what we will identify as the final step of the transition. The use of works
by Baudouin and Kruszewski is more nearly traditional, since it is generally
recognized that these two linguists developed, independently of Saussure,
a similar type oflinguistic theory. Moreover, Saussure was acquainted with
some of their works and recognized them as the two linguists who "were
closer than anyone else to a theoretical view of language." 10 Our account
here ignores the problems of direct influence, and treats Baudouin's and
Kruszewski's work as paralleling that of Saussure, revealing many of the
same processes of change from the Neogrammarian notions to struc-
turalism that Saussure himself had undergone. Other possible sources of
influence on Saussure will be disregarded because of our focus on patterns
of cognitive development rather than on influence itself. 11
180 Chapter VII
The Road to Synchrony: Overdetermination and Its Obstacles
The integration and interdependence among the elements of an idea

system might result in a situation where the central philosophical,
theoretical, or methodological ideas all appear to lead logically to a specific
new cognitive development. For example, they might all suggest new
problems, new areas of investigation, new empirical discoveries or
theoretical formulations. Perhaps it is in such situations of multiple
determination that we are most likely to encounter instances of
simultaneous discovery.
In his article on the multiple discovery of the law of energy conservation,
T.S. Kuhn suggests just such a possibility. 12 Examining the paths which led
no fewer than twelve scientists towards the new theoretical generalization,
Kuhn isolates several different ideas current among early nineteenth-
century scientists and argues that all these ideas contributed to the
formulation of the new law. Since each scientist was led to the new
discovery from a different direction, that is, each derived the new law by
following up the implications of a different idea, it is not surprising that
each of them presented a slightly different derivation and formulation of
the new law. Analyzing these various formulations of the law, Kuhn
identified the role played by such elements of the shared idea system as the
newly described energy conversion processes, the rising interest in various
kinds of engines, and, last but not least, the philosophical beliefs of the
Naturphilosophen concerning the existence of a single and unique natural
force. The discussion of the role of these ideas in the formulation of the new
law was supposed to elucidate the meaning of such oft-used phrases as "the
time was ripe for the discovery," or "the new idea was in the air." Claiming
that multiple discoveries might be especially likely in situations in which
the same innovation is predicated by a number of shared beliefs, Kuhn
shows that the law of energy conservation lay "close to the surface of
scientific consciousness" not simply because it was a general theoretical
consequence of new experimental information, but also because it followed
from a number of distinct but related notions, some empirical, others
theoretical or philosophical, all of which played an important part in the
scientific idea system of the early nineteenth century.
Discussing "multiple determination," Kuhn concentrates on those
elements of the shared idea system which could have suggested the new
discovery. Since he believes that the new formulation of the law of the
conservation of energy took place within the framework of an accepted
paradigm and occurred in the course of successive contributions to normal

science, Kuhn does not inquire whether the presence of multiple links
leading to the new development excludes the possibility that this develop-
ment is also dependent on discontinuity, on the rejection or reformulation
of certain central scientific beliefs. In other words, Kuhn does not ask
whether an important cognitive innovation can be, at one and the same
time, an elaboration of a number of shared notions and a result of the
rejection of some other, equally shared and important ideas. If this indeed
can occasionally be the case, then we are faced with the seemingly
paradoxical but interesting possibility that under certain circumstances,
cognitive continuity - the retention or elaboration of certain ideas - is
directly dependent on the prior introduction of discontinuity, on the
rejection of other beliefs which effectively blocked the new development.
This appears to have been the situation in the transition from the
historical linguistics of the Neogrammarians to the synchronic linguistics
proposed by several linguists at the turn of the century, foremost among
them Saussure. As we shall see in this section, many central ideas of the
Neogrammarians suggested the development of synchronic linguistics, and
more or less explicit hints about the necessity of re-establishing this field
on a new basis were made by such linguists as Baudouin, Kruszewski,
Ettmayer, and Meyer-LiibkeY However, as long as certain philosophical
notions of the Neogrammarians remained in effect, all of these hints
appeared to lead nowhere, and despite arguments that a non-historical
linguistics is possible or even necessary, linguists seemed incapable of
formulating a program for the new field. The task of this section will be to
specify the extent to which various Neogrammarian ideas served as
impulses toward the formulation of a program for the science of language
states. At the same time, I will attempt to discern which elements of the
Neogrammarian idea system stood in the way of the further development
of synchronic linguistics and prevented the Neogrammarians and their
followers from following up on suggestions implicit in their own ideas.
1. Uniformitarianism
The first step towards the (re)establishment of the study of linguistic

synchrony was made by the Neogrammarians when they rejected the
notion that linguistic history is a process of decay and degeneration. For
the early comparative grammarians, only the original organic language
182 Chapter VII
could serve as a source of knowledge about the essential characteristics of

language. All the later languages represented a fall from perfection, and
held interest only insofar as their withered remnants shed light on the
original language and on the process of its dissolution. When the
Neogrammarians and their contemporaries replaced the idea of decay by
the notion of constant and normatively neutral change affecting all
languages at every stage of their development, all languages became equally
interesting and could be studied to reveal the functioning of linguistic
mechanisms.
When the Neogrammarians rejected the notion oflinguistic decay, they
did so in the name of the philosophical principle of uniformitarianism.
Since the same causal factors must always operate on language, processes
which occurred in the remote past were necessarily of the same general
character as those taking place today. The "decay" observed in historical
languages was of the same kind as that which took place in prehistorical
periods, just as the process of linguistic creation did not cease once
languages "achieved perfection," but has continued in the same general
manner throughout linguistic history. The Neogrammarians invoked the
principle of uniformitarianism in postulating the necessity of the linguistic
study of modern languages, since these languages were the most accessible
to empirical observations of linguistic changes. "The comparative linguist
must turn his attention from the original language to the present ifhe wants
to arrive at a correct idea of the manner in which language is maintained." 14
This call for the study of living languages did not mean that the
Neogrammarians were interested in synchronic descriptions of language
rather than in the history of linguistic changes; instead, the study of living
languages was to serve as a methodological corrective providing empirical
information about the causal forces operating on language. Later, this
information was to be applied to the reconstruction of proto-Indo-
European and to explaining the process of its development. As opposed to
the oldest stages of linguistic development, the living languages provided
a laboratory where the principles of development could be observed in vitro.
When the linguist can hear with his own ears how things happen in the life ofianguage, why
does he prefer to form his ideas about the consistency and inconsistency in phonological
systems solely on the basis of the inexact and unreliable written transmission of older
languages? If someone wants to study the anatomical structure of an organic body, will he
then take recourse to notoriously inexact diagrams and leave the preparations unexamined? 15
Saussure's RevolutionJrorn Within 183
Thus, the normative equalization of modern and ancient languages

combined with a demand for uniform causal explanations resulted in a call
to study the functioning of modern languages.
At the same time, the Neogrammarians extended the principle of unifor-
mitarianism further in a direction suggesting the development of syn-
chronic linguistics. They insisted that any causal factor invoked as an
explanation of linguistic change must also account for the maintenance of
linguistic forms. One consequence of this principle is that an empirical
study aimed at the discovery of the causal factors responsible for the
change is no different from the study of the functioning of linguistic
mechanisms in general. In other words, the Neogrammarians were
theoretically interested in what they called the "conditions of the life of
language," and even though in their own work in linguistics they were
exclusively preoccupied with history, in their theoretical writings they
invoked the necessity of non-historical studies of language. It is perhaps
this consequence of the philosophical notions of the Neogrammarians
which led Saussure to assert that "Not until around 1870 did scholars begin
to ask themselves what are the conditions of the life of languages." 16
In his attempt to place the Saussurean revolution in the history of
linguistic thought, Albert Sechehaye singles out the importance of
Neogrammarian uniformitarianism for the further development of
linguistics: "The nature of language ... could not have been essentially
different in antiquity from what we observe today"; and he asserts that this
principle is not only "absolutely correct," but could have been very fecund
if only the Neogrammarians had been able to draw all the logical conse-
quences from it. "This principle leads us directly to the study offacts which
we observe immediately in our own speech and in the speech around us." 17
Of course, one should not equate this call for the study of modern languages
with the call for a synchronic linguistics. The uniformitarianism of the
Neogrammarians accorded well with other philosophical beliefs they
upheld including the idea that the only truly scientific study oflanguage was
historical, since only historical study could provide causal explanations.
Given this ideal of causal historical explanation, no synchronic analysis of
language could be treated as fully scientific. The suggestion of synchronic
linguistics contained in the Neogrammarian version of uniformitarianism
could not be fully articulated precisely because it clashed with other
philosophical tenets ofNeogrammarian doctrine. Uniformitarianism and a
programmatic interest in empirical studies of the conditions of the life of
language were not the only Neogrammarian ideas suggesting the possibility
184 Chapter VII
of synchronic linguistics. In addition to these philosophical beliefs about

the nature of causality and scientific explanation, one can find elements of
their theoretical framework and their methodological practice which were
equally important in providing an impulse toward synchronic linguistics. A
comparison between the Neogrammarian and early stucturalist theories of
analogy provides another example of how the theoretical beliefs of the
Neogrammarians suggested a synchronic study of language which could
not be pursued given certain philosophical assumptions deeply embedded
in their idea system.
2. Theory of Analogy
The Neogrammarian theory oflanguage change was designed to supply an

explanation of two basic types of linguistic change: phonetic transfor-
mation and analogical innovation. Methodologically, analogy played a
subservient role in Neogrammarian empirical work, but its role in their idea
system went beyond methodology: analogy served as a foundation for the
Neogrammarian theory of language use. 18
Relying on Herbartian psychology and its application to linguistics by
Steinthal and Lazarus, the Neogrammarians regarded formation by
analogy as a basic psychological process crucial to the very functioning of
language. Analogical formations were the result of a process of association
among similar or contiguous ideas, and this process was regarded as the
basic mode of operation of the mind. The process of association among
similar linguistic forms was therefore responsible for the particular
grouping of linguistic elements in the individual psyche, and thus for the
very organization of language.
Ideas are introduced in groups into consciousness, and hence as groups remain in uncon-
sciousness .... These groups, furnished at least originally by the exterior world, now proceed
to organize themselves in the mind of each individual into far fuller and more complicated
combinations, which come to fulfillment for the most part unconsciously, and then proceed
to operate unconsciously ... 19
Associations among similar and contiguous ideas (or representations)

could take a variety of forms, so that the groups of representations criss-
crossed one another and constituted a complicated network of linguistic
forms. It was this organization oflinguistic forms in the mind which allowed
individuals to speak and to use language creatively. According to the

Neogrammarians, the mere reproduction of sentences by memory was only
a part of normal speech activity, which was also largely a result of the
(re )creation of forms according to a model provided by other elements in
an associational group. This unconscious "combinatory activity" was
precisely creation by analogy. Analogical formations dependent on the
process of psychological association supplied the foundations of the
Neogrammarian theory of language use and organization. By explaining
analogical innovation, the Neogrammarians were not only isolating the
causes of one type oflinguistic change, but also describing processes which
in their opinion were basic to speech in general.
But the Neogrammarian theory of analogical innovation was incomplete,
since it did not explain why any specific linguistic form shifted its position
in the network of associations and became assimilated into a new asso-
ciational group. Explaining analogy in general, the Neogrammarians could
not explain any of its specific instances. As a result of this theoretical
insufficiency, it appeared that every explanation of change by analogy was
introduced in an ad hoc manner. Both the Neogrammarians and their
opponents were aware of this theoretical incompleteness. According to
Hermann Osthoff:
In countless ... cases of associative formation the linguist has no ready answer to the question:
Why did the psychic act take precisely this course? Why did Form A necessarily have to
influence Form B. and not vice versa?
Given such freedom of movement as evidently belongs to language in its associational activity,
it appears that the transmission of language changes brought about through the association
offorms will continue to preserve more or less its character of mere guesswork and fumbling. 20
The Neogrammarians believed that in order to answer the question why

a particular formation of analogy had taken place, they had to classify
various kinds of similarities and contiguities governing the formation of
associational groups. Only such a classification would allow them to specify
the particular principle of association according to which a given form
submitted to the influence of a particular kind of associational group and
changed its orginal form.
In order to bestow the character of a true science on research into linguistic form associations,
to raise it above the suspicion of being an unmethodical guessing game, an attempt must be
186 Chapter VII
made to classify the definite results already obtained, or a sufficiently large portion of them,
by means of the application of the principle of analogy. Only then will one be able to see how,
i.e., according to what ratio, if any, the rule of free association proceeds. 21
Although the Neogrammarians hardly said so explicitly, this call for the
classification of associational groups as they exist in the psyche was
nothing less than the call for a new theory of synchronic grammar. Such
a grammar would examine the psychological mechanism that organized
linguistic forms into a complex system of groups and relations in
accordance with the laws of association. Although the Neogrammarians
did not fulfill their own theoretical demands, and continued to classify
associational groups in a traditional manner, using the old grammatical
categories and the traditional distinction between meaning and form, they
were aware of the psychological and synchronic character of the grammar
implied by the theory of analogy. In his Prinzipien, Hermann Paul came
extremely close to the recognition of this synchronic task of linguistics.
Immediately after discussing associational groups and their role in
language, Paul wrote:
Let us now consider - the nature of the object being what it is - the task of the historian. He
cannot avoid describing states of language, seeing that he is concerned with large groups of
simultaneously co-existing elements. If, however, this description is ever to become a really
useful basis for historical contemplation, it must attach itself to real objects - i.e., the
psychological organism just described. It must not merely give an exhaustive list of the
elements of which they are composed, but must also realize their relation to each other, their
relative strength, the numerous connexions they have formed with each other ... 22
This statement can be read as an explicit acknowledgement of the necessity

of synchronic studies oflanguage (and moreover, of a structural approach
to synchrony, but to this I will return later). We should remember, however,
that this synchronic, psychological grammar was to constitute only a pre-
paratory stage for historical investigations of analogical changes. Whatever
its foundations, a static grammar ofa language could not be truly scientific,
argued the Neogrammarians, for it was never truly causal. Moreover, Paul
retracted his statement almost immediately when he claimed the impossi-
bility of describing "every individual belonging to a community of
speech."23 Since the arrangement of associational groups was different for
every individual speaker and changed continuously as language was
uttered and heard, a synchronic description of the language of a community
would have to resort to extensive abstraction. Hesitantly, Paul introduced

the concept of "usage" (Sprachusus), a kind of linguistic average of the
community. But knowledge of "usage," if necessary for descriptive
purposes, was useless for explanatory purposes. The real causes of change
could not be isolated from abstract constructs; moreover, these real causes
could reside only in individual speech and not in the communal language.
In order to discover the causes of linguistic change, linguists needed to
consider individual speech, not the generalized abstract patterns of
"average speech."
The Neogrammarian aversion to abstraction asserted itself here as a
denial of the possibility of a truly static linguistics. Static description could
be scientific (and historically useful) only if it referred to individual
speakers at single moments of time, and would therefore allow for causal
explanations of individual linguistic processes. Since this kind of
description was impracticable, linguists had to study the history of specific
linguistic forms, for only such a focus could insure that the study be
concrete and explanatory. Thus, although the theory of analogy brought the
Neogrammarians extremely close to synchronic linguistics, their psy-
chologism and their distrust of abstraction, reflected in Paul's objections
to descriptive linguistics, hindered any further development of the study of
language states. Here again, a potential new development which is
recognized as theoretically necessary is rendered impossible by other
elements of the idea system.
The claim that the theory of analogy could have served as the foundation
for the development of synchronic linguistics can be substantiated further
by an examination of Saussure's approach to this aspect of the theory of
language. In many respects Saussure followed the Neogrammarians, but
the links which he established between analogy and synchrony could be
posited only because Saussure rejected many of the Neogrammarian
philosophical notions about science.
In the Cours de linguistique generaie, analogy is discussed in a section on
diachronic linguistics, and the Neogrammarian contribution to the theory
of analogy is explicitly acknowledged: "The neogrammarian school was the
first to assign analogy to its proper place ... "24 Like Paul, Saussure
described the process of analogical formation as a function of the organi-
zation of language in consciousness. In order to create new forms, or to
recreate those not committed to memory, speakers extend the existing
patterns by modelling new forms on associational groups which are
organized in the consciousness into proportions (e.g., oratorem: orator = ho-
188 Chapter VII
norem: x; x = honor). This process, as both the Neogrammarians and

Saussure recognized, presupposes a grammatical organization oflanguage
in consciousness. Analogy, as a direct reflection of this grammatical organi-
zation, must therefore be synchronic. At the same time, however, new
analogical formations could result in changes in the structure of language,
and in this sense analogy was "the prime factor in the evolution of
languages, the procedure through which languages pass from one state of
organization to another."25 This double - synchronic and diachronic -
character of analogy had important consequences which the Neo-
grammarians acknowledged but did not pursue. 26
Seen as a grammatical and psychological phenomenon, analogy was
entirely synchronic, and its product (whether an innovation or a
reconstruction of a standard form) was a manifestation of a synchronic
state: "In short, analogy, considered by itself, is only one side of the
phenomenon of interpretation, one manifestation of the general activity
that singles out units for subsequent use. That is why I say that analogy
is entirely grammatical and synchronic."27 Analogy was "entirely gramma-
tical" because it was a projection of the organization of language: "it
supposes awareness and understanding of a relation between forms."28
Both the Neogrammarians and Saussure agreed that the same psychologi-
cal procedures are responsible for both analogical innovation and the
reconstruction of traditional linguistic forms: "One might say that it
(analogy) intervenes not only when old materials are redistributed in new
units but also when forms remain unchanged. The same psychological
process operates in both cases."29 For the Neogrammarians this was a
simple confirmation of the principle which asserted that the factors respon-
sible for linguistic change must also be active in everyday linguistic activity.
Since the Neogrammarians were interested in the history oflanguage, they
were mostly preoccupied with new analogical formations. For Saussure,
the fact that there was no difference between the process of analogical
innovation and the process of analogical reconstruction constituted one
more reason for making a strict distinction between the synchronic and the
diachronic points of view. From the point of view of the speaker, the
analogical formation of a new form was identical with the recreation of a
forgotten standard form. Both as a psychological process and in terms of
the "product," every analogical formation exists first and foremost as a
psychological possibility. This manner of perceiving analogy is not only
subjectively adequate but also entirely synchronic. On the other hand, if a
linguist were to examine an analogical formation historically, he would
Saussure's Revolutionfrom Within 189
have to transcend the point of view of the speaker and ask about the
relationship between an analogical formation and standard linguistic forms
used previously. From this point of view, the creation of a new form and
the reconstruction of an old one were no longer identical.
For the Neogrammarians the two views of analogy - synchronic and
diachronic - were inseparable, since both manifested themselves as the
same concrete fact which was directly given in experience. For Saussure
these two aspects were analytically distinct, and this distinction allowed
him to treat the grammar of a language and its psychological functioning
independently of the historical determinations of this grammar. By dis-
tinguishing among different points of view, Saussure was not only
separating synchrony and diachrony but also separating the grammatical
organization oflanguage from single linguistic events (e.g., speech acts) and
the encoding of language in the speaker's psyche from historical changes
which could be observed only "from the outside." The analysis of the
analogical process allowed Saussure to specify one of the most important
differences between synchronic and diachronic linguistics: while
diachronic linguistics examined language externally, comparing different
states and the processes connecting them, synchronic linguistics dealt with
the grammar of language as it was organized in consciousness.
The first thing that strikes us when we study facts oflanguage is that their succession in time
does not exist insofar as the speaker is concerned. He is confronted with a state. That is why
the linguist who wishes to understand a state must discard all knowledge of everything which
produced it and forget about diachrony. Only by suppressing the past can he enter into the
consciousness of speaking subjects. 3o
To summarize: Saussure's theory of analogy bears clear signs of descent

from Neogrammarian theory. Many of Saus sure's derivations of the duality
of synchrony and diachrony appeared in the first instance as simple restate-
ments or extensions of Neogrammarian principles. He noted the same
differences between analogy and phonetic change as did the Neo-
grammarians, and he concurred in their opinion that the psychological
processes which led to new analogical creations were the same as the
processes which led to reconstructions of old forms. Perhaps most
importantly, Saussure's theory of analogy, like that of the
Neogrammarians, was predicated on the belief that analogy was basic to
the psychological functioning of language and that it reflected the organi-
zation of language in consciousness. In the light of these Neogrammarian
190 Chapter VII
principles, Saussure's distinction between synchrony and diachrony ap-

peared as the logical consequence of a continuous and gradual develop-
ment. At the same time, however, we have seen that in order to draw the
distinction between synchrony and diachrony and to delineate those
aspects of analogy which differed depending on which of these perceptives
was adopted, Saussure had to reject some of the Neogrammarian beliefs
about the nature of scientific facts and the role of the scientific observer.
Like uniformitarianism, the N eogrammarian theory of analogy could
serve as the basis for synchronic linguistics, but its extension in this
direction was blocked by fundamental philosophical beliefs subscribed to
by the Neogrammarians and most of their contemporaries. These
assumptions, concerning such issues as the relationship of the scientist to
his object of study and the nature of scientific description and explanation,
were not always explicitly formulated by the linguists themselves; but since
they defined what is scientific and by this very token linked linguists with
the broader scholarly community, they often appeared as unquestionable
and unshakeable truths. Grounded not only in the Neogrammarian idea
system but in much of the academic science of the time, they served as
effective constraints on even the most compelling hints of new areas of
study suggested by the theory of analogy. Accordingly, the continuity of
development leading from the Neogrammarian theory of analogy to
Saussure's synchronic linguistics depended on the simultaneous discon-
tinuity between their respective philosophies of science.
3. Alternations as Synchronic Phenomenona
The 1870s and 80s were marked not only by theoretical disputes between
the Neogrammarians and their opponents, but also by an unusual surge of
new discoveries, the most important of which ultimately led to the transfor-
mation of traditional views about the system of vowels in the original
language. Since there were no profound methodological differences
between the Neogrammarians and their critics, both groups of linguists,
independently of their attitudes toward the Neogrammarian doctrine, were
able to contribute to these new developments. Nonetheless, the
Neogrammarians themselves made many discoveries which were signifi-
cant for the new developments; Brugmann's and Osthoff's work on vocalic
nasals and liquids was especially important. Even more revolutionary was
Saussure's Memoire sur Ie systeme primitif des voyelles dans les langues
indo-europeennes (1879, although it actually appeared in December 1878).
In order to examine the role of the methods applied to the analysis of

the Indo-European vowel system in stimulating synchronic linguistic inter-
est, it is unnecessary to trace in detail the order and the interdependence
of discoveries in this area. The transition from the traditional view, dating
from Grimm, that the original language contained only three vowels (a,i,u)
to the more elaborate system of primitive vowels proposed in the 1870s and
1880s involved a number of discoveries and complex interpretations of
linguistic materials. Tracing these discoveries would take us far afield. Here
we are concerned only with those methodological and theoretical aspects
of the historical work on vocalism that influenced the development of
synchronic linguistics, or in other words, in the dynamics of the cognitive
continuity linking the two seemingly radically distinct idea systems.
The problem of vocalism was always regarded as two-fold: on the one
hand, linguists were interested in the reconstruction of the system of
Indo-European vowels and in tracing its history; on the other, they wanted
to explain the phenomenon of Ablaut, that is, of vocalic alternations in the
various morphological forms of a given root in the same language. In the
seventies, these two problems were treated together, so that linguistics
attempted to solve the phonetic problem of vowel history by analyzing
vowel alternations (and to explain alternations by analyses of phonetic
changes, especially those induced by accent). In order to reconstruct the
vowel system of the ancestral language, linguists resorted not only to
comparisons of cognate forms in related languages but also to comparisons
of variant forms within the same language. This method - later called
internal reconstruction - was not altogether new, but it led to radically new
discoveries in research on vocalism. Brugmann demonstrated the existence
of vocalic nasals by examining variants of inflectional endings within
Sanskrit, Greek, etc. Comparing such alternating forms as bibhr-ati and
bhara-nti, bibhr-atu and bhara-ntu, etc., Brugmann concluded that these
variations in endings suggested a prior phonetic change, and the original
presence of a vocalic nasal.
If alternations were to be used as a methodological tool, as indicators
of prior phonetic changes or of pre-existent morphological regularities,
then the very phenomenon of alternation had to be understood. Such at
least was the view of Saussure and of such linguists as Mikolaj Kruszewski
and Jan Baudouin de Courtenay. They asked: What was the nature of
alternation? Were all alternations of the same kind? What caused them?
How did they differ from phonetic change?
192 Chapter VII
Neogrammarian interest in alternations had been limited to methodol-

ogy. While they explored the usefulness of alternations as possible indica-
tors of prior phonetic changes, the phenomenon of alternation itself seemed
to hold almost no theoretical interest. In view of their historical focus and
their emphasis on causal explanations, the Neogrammarians saw no reason
to distinguish between alternations and phonetic changes. For them, the
significance of alternations was limited to the fact that two etymologically
related but phonetically distinct variants of a given linguistic form co-
existing in a language could provide clues to phonetic changes which, at
some point in the past, had transformed one or both of these forms. The
co-existence of alternating forms in the same language and the function
which some of these forms fulfilled - such as, for example, their ability to
mark morphological differences - were considered either as secondary or
as irrelevant for explanatory purposes. If Paul, in the early editions of the
Prinzipien, did not distinguish between alternations and phonetic changes,
it was not because he totally misunderstood the nature of alternation, but
because he was interested exclusively in the historical and causal explana-
tion of the phenomenon; and historically, alternation and sound change
were essentially the same (as long as it was granted that analogy sometimes
intervened in both). Explaining alternation was equivalent to describing the
process of phonetic change.
The increased methodological reliance on alternations did, however,
lead to the emergence of a theoretical interest in the phenomenon as such,
and linguists began to study and classify various kinds of alternations,
treating them as phenomena worthy of independent study. Linguists who
were trying to define alternations and to discern their distinctive charac-
teristics were quick to point out that what made alternations unique (and,
incidentally, methodologically so interesting) was their static character -
the fact that two phonetically somewhat different variants of the same
linguistic form co-existed simultaneously in a language. Although the
historical origins and development of alternations remained the main topic
of research, linguists like Baudouin and Kruszewski noted the synchronic
character of alternations as their distinctive feature. Baudouin criticized his
colleagues for disregarding the synchronic aspects of alternations and
neglecting to treat them as phenomena worthy of independent study:
But even the most recent linguistic works deal with the alternations themselves only indirectly,
focussing attention on the determination of phonetic changes and the establishment of the
s
Saussure Revolution from Within 193
historical priority of origin of the speech sound in question. Furthermore, these works fail to
give a satisfactory account of the very concept of alternation or coexistence ...
... only after establishing (the fact of the coexistence of phonetically different but etymologi-
cally related speech sounds) can one proceed to the investigation of its causes.31
Both Baudouin and Kruszewski were interested in the historical develop-

ment of alternations, and in particular in the process which led to the
attribution of morphological functions to certain alternations. Although
they recognized the fact that alternations, in order to playa morphological
role, had to function in a linguistic state, they did not regard the distinction
between historical explanations of the genesis and development of alter-
nations and static descriptions of their possible morphological functions as
theoretically or philosophically important. If an alternation first came into
existence as the result of a sound change (and this belief was shared by the
Neogrammarians, Baudouin, Kruszewski, and Saussure) and later began
to be used to mark morphological differences, then linguists had to explain
the historical causes of this later transition, just as they had to specify the
sound law which governed the first (morphologically indifferent) develop-
ment. In other words, both Baudouin and Kruszewski believed that those
alternations that performed certain grammatical functions had to be
explained as the result of (at least) a two-stage process: during the first
stage, a sound change brought about new phonetic differences between
related forms, while during the second stage, different grammatical values
were attributed to the differences between these forms. Although Baudouin
and Kruszewski agreed that alternations themselves were synchronic, they
believed that they had to be explained historically, as the results of phonetic
and analogical processes of change.
Even this cursory, oversimplifying summary of Baudouin's and
Kruszewski's approaches to alternation makes it apparent that their
analyses and explanations of alternations remained entirely consistent with
N eogrammarian principles. The synchronic definition of alternations and
the implicit acknowledgement of the difference between historical and
static phenomena found in the works of Baudouin and Kruszewski
constituted extensions of the Neogrammarian approach and remained
theoretically secondary, while the emphasis on historical explanations of
the development of various kinds of alternations was a reflection of the
attachment of Baudouin and Kruszewski to traditional linguistic concerns
and to the accepted philosophical beliefs about what constituted a scientific
explanation. In other words, although Baudouin and Kruszewski made a
194 Chapter VII
distinction between static and historical phenomena, they adhered to the

Neogrammarian beliefs about linguistic explanation, and as a result they
did not regard their distinction as a significant aspect of the study of
language.
The role of the diachronyjsynchrony dichotomy was altogether different
for Saussure. Although he did not depart from the standard views about
the origins and development of alternations (and his remarks on the subject
are far less detailed and specific than those of Kruszewski and Baudouin),
he considered the disparity between synchronic definitions of alternations
and their historical explanation as symptomatic of a more general linguistic
duality, and he regarded the double nature of alternations as far more
"ignificant than did either Baudouin or Kruszewski. What they took largely
for granted, Saussure saw as problematic; and as we shall see, this
difference was ultimately a result of Saussure's adherence to a new philoso-
phical framework. The adoption of a new philosophical perspective does
not unavoidably destroy all continuity between corresponding elements of
successive idea systems. Even when it allows for the preservation of
continuity, the new perspective might, however, bring out new aspects of
old problematics or change the relative importance of various elements of
the idea system. Without any significant reworking of the theory of alter-
nations, Saussure's new philosophical beliefs allowed him to emphasize
aspects of the theory which had previously been considered secondary and
unproblematic.
Saussure was interested in alternations from the very beginning of his
career. In the Memoire he used them as a methodological tool for the
discovery of antecedent phonetic changes and grammatical regularities. 32
Already in this work, Saussure was investigating alternations from two
distinct points of view: on the one hand, he examined their genesis, the
process which brought them about; and on the other, he was concerned
with their grammatical functions. This double perspective is also present
in his later comments on alternation in the notes and lectures.
Like the Neogrammarians, Baudouin, and Kruszewski, Saussure also
argued that all alternations were originally brought about by phonetic
changes. Only later, after a specific alternation of sounds in related forms
had already been established, could it begin to playa grammatical role,
marking conceptual differences between forms. For example, the alter-
nation of a:ii in the German Gast:Giiste, Hand:Hiinde, Nacht:Niichte, etc.,
serves to mark the difference between the singular and the plural. Saussure
argued that it was a mistake to state that the a in Gast changes to ii in Giiste,
since Giiste resulted neither from the phonetic transformation of Gast nor
from the need to mark the difference between the singular and the plural.
Instead, Giiste is a regular reflex of the old plural form gasti which, together
with all the other phonetically (rather than morphologically) related forms,
has been transformed into Giiste through a process of phonetic change. This
initial change was independent of morphology and affected various linguis-
tic forms whether or not they were plurals. But, although it was originally
an outcome of a fortuitous phonetic change, the actual alternation a:ii is
not morphologically irrelevant: at some point in time it was invested with
value, and now, in modern German, it serves to mark a conceptual and
grammatical difference.
Oridinarily, then, alternation is distributed regularly among several terms and coincides with
an important opposition of function, class, or determination. It is possible to speak of
grammatical laws of alternation, but these laws are only a fortuitous result of the underlying
phonetic facts. When phonetic facts create a regular opposition between two series of terms
that have an opposition of value, the mind seizes upon the material difference, gives it
significance, and makes it a carrier of the conceptual difference?3
Saussure's emphasis on the fact that alternations marking morphological

differences between forms resulted from a purely phonetic and grammati-
cally indifferent process parallels the Neogrammarian insistence that it was
a serious methodological error to cite grammatical criteria in order to
delimit the realm of effectiveness of a phonetic law. But the importance of
Saussure's distinction between phonetic laws governing the origins of
alternations and grammatical laws governing their functioning goes beyond
that of a methodological rule. Saussure claimed that the distinction
between the two aspects of alternation was not simply one between two
successive stages of development, and that it was misleading to assert that
speakers began to utilize alternations for grammatical purposes only after
the phonetic process had run its course. This statement was incomplete
because it disregarded the fact that the first stage of this development could
be observed only diachronically, while the second stage demanded that
speakers (and linguists as observers) examine language as a static system
of signs, that is, synchronically. In other words, the difference between the
original causes of an alternation (fortuitous sound change) and its eventual
grammatical functions could not be resolved into differences between two
stages of development. The distinction between the phonetic and the
grammatical processes also relied on a change of perspective. As long as
196 Chapter VII
language was examined from a purely historical point of view, "alter-

nations" were indistinguishable from sound changes, and could not even
be described as alternations. To return to our example, all that a historical
study would be able to discover in this case would be the transition from
gasti to Giiste. In order to discern the actual alternation (Le., the relation-
ship between Gast and Giiste) and in order to be able to understand its
morphological role, the historical point of view must be abandoned and one
must examine the relationship of co-existent signs, a static phenomenon.
Insofar as an alternation is defined as "a correspondence ... between two
series of coexisting forms,"34 it is not a phonetic change but a grammatical
phenomenon, and as such it is also entirely synchronic. It matters little that
historical (phonetic) processes created the conditions that allowed
speakers to make grammatical distinctions. The speakers (and linguists)
could make these distinctions only when they compared co-existent forms
and utilized synchronic differences.
It is a mistake - and one shared by many linguists - to assume that alternation is phonetic
simply because sounds make up its substance and playa part in its genesis. The fact is that
alternation, whether considered from its starting point or end result, is always both grammati-
cal and synchronic. 3s
Saussure's analysis of alternations did not differ much from those of

Baudouin and Kruszewski, and the theory he proposed was entirely consis-
tent with their more detailed explanations. The distinction between syn-
chrony and diachrony existed in nuce in all these works. This distinction
was particularly striking in the case of alternations because linguists were
likely to define them totally synchronically and morphologically, yet explain
them historically and phonetically. This suggests that the attempts to
develop a theory of alternations could indeed have served as impulses for
the formulation of the dichotomy between synchrony and diachrony. It
appears, however, that in order to consider the distinction between syn-
chrony and diachrony as an important theoretical idea, it is not sufficient
to be aware of its existence. Although both Baudouin and Kruszewski were
aware that they were adopting both synchronic and diachronic viewpoints
in their analyses of alternations, they regarded this as an entirely natural
and unproblematic procedure. This was not the case for Saussure. The fact
that the selection of one of these perspectives determined whether the
phenomenon under study was to be explained as a phonetic change or as
a grammatical process meant for him that in linguistics a strict separation
of the diachronic and synchronic points of view was absolutely necessary.
Throughout the Cours, Saussure cited alternations in order to show how

the choice between a synchronic or a diachronic perspective determined
the nature of the phenomenon under study. Alternations were particularly
suitable as examples of this incommensurability of perspectives precisely
because they could be interpreted as two different phenomena, depending
on which perspective was chosen: diachronically, they were phonetic and
morphologically indifferent; synchronically, they were grammatical.
Are facts of the diachronic series of the same class, at least, as facts of the synchronic series?
By no means, for we have seen that changes are wholly unintentional while the synchronic
fact is always significant. It always calls forth two simultaneous terms. Not Giiste alone but
the opposition Gast:Giiste expresses the plural. The diachronic fact is just the opposite: only
one term is involved, and for the new term to appear (Giiste), the old one (gasti) must first
give way to it. 36
In this fragment and elsewhere, Saussure uses alternations to illustrate a

more general principle according to which the perspective chosen by a
linguist determines the nature of the phenomenon he is studying. In this
general form, however, the principle was not derived from Saussure's
observation of alternations, but rather represented precisely the philoso-
phical innovation which accounted for Saussure's departure from the
traditional ease with which linguists switched from the synchronic to the
diachronic points of view and vice versa.
To summarize: the Neogrammarian beliefs about uniformitarianism,
their theory of analogy, and the methodological reliance on alternations all
implied, or at least strongly suggested, Saussure's distinction between
synchronic and diachronic linguistics. Seen as an elaboration of these key
elements of the Neogrammarian idea system, Saussure's dichotomy
represented a continuous and logical development of the previously
dominant system of linguistic beliefs. This continuity is, however, partially
misleading, since in order to posit his dichotomy as a constitutive and
central idea within his linguistic system, Saussure had to abandon many
fundamental philosophical tenets of Neogrammarian thought and adopt a
new set of assumptions about facts and their construction as objects of
scientific inquiry.
More generally, we are faced here with a situation in which the continuity
and discontinuity of cognitive development are most intimately inter-
twined. On the one hand, there are extensive and transparent continuities
between the two idea systems; on the other, the very possibility of these
198 Chapter VII
continuities is predicated on radical discontinuity elsewhere, in this in-

stance on the abandonment of some basic philosophical assumptions and
the adoption of a new philosophy of science. Given the circumstance of
what we have caled multiple determination - i.e., the situation in which a
new development was suggested not by one, but by several key elements
of the dominant idea system - the likelihood that the new idea would be
suggested by several scholars at approximately the same time was greatly
increased. And yet, given the constraints of the shared idea system, at least
some of these scholars, still bound by the philosophical assumptions of
their system, failed to appreciate the significance of the new idea or were
unable to develop its full implications. Though anticipated and suggested
on a number of occasions, the new idea could not be fully formulated unless
and until the adherence to these philosophical ideas which blocked its
acceptance was no longer automatic and unquestionable. Thus, at one and
the same time, the new idea seemed to be "in the air" and yet impossible
to formulate, so that its final elaboration appeared as a radical
breakthrough. It is not surprising that faced with such an interplay between
continuity and discontinuity, historians tended to be divided: some were
prone to view the new development as a culmination of previously held
beliefs, and cited the partial anticipation as evidence of continuity; while
others regarded the new idea as a wholly new beginning, the result of a
revolutionary change of philosophical perspective. As we have seen, both
of these views correspond to the analysis presented here, although both
appear to be incomplete. Our analysis suggests that continuity in one area
does not preclude discontinuity elsewhere, and moreover, that some dis-
continuities might create conditions in which a fuller elaboration of con-
tinuities is rendered possible. In order to understand better this complex
interdependence of continuity and discontinuity, we must ask how the
discontinuity that allowed for the actual formulation of previously blocked
innovations was introduced. What accounts for the rejection of earlier
philosophical constraints and the adoption of a new perspective? The
following section addresses these questions.
The Construction of a Linguistic Fact
Concepts are not spontaneously created but are determined by their "ancestors."
That which has occurred in the past is a greater cause of insecurity - rather it only
becomes a cause of insecurity - when our ties with it remain unconscious and
unknown. 3 ?
A comparison of the views of the Neogrammarians with those of Saussure

on analogy and alternations reveals a pattern of cognitive change in which
continuity of development is made possible by radical innovation. The
newly postulated need for synchronic studies oflanguage can be explained
in part as an elaboration of the theoretical and methodological traditions
of the Neogrammarians; but the synchronyjdiachrony dichotomy also pre-
supposed a new philosophical conception of science, its methods and
objects. Saussure's attempt to examine not only linguistic phenomena as
such, but also the points of view which enable linguists to isolate various
aspects of these phenomena, reflected his assumption that the perspectives
chosen for scientific research playa role in determining the nature of the
object of investigation. The adoption 0f this assumption marked a radical
break with the Neogrammarian philosophy of science.
For the Neogrammarians, as for most nineteenth-century positivists
before Mach and Duhem, facts were not questionable entities: they were
given directly and immediately in experience, and they were not influenced
by an observer who was supposed to remain detached and objective.
Saussure no longer shared this view. He regarded "facts" more as creations
of the scientist's point of view than as independent and concrete entities
that could be perceived objectively by an unbiased, perspective-less
scientist.
Here (in linguistics), there are, to start with, points of view, which may be correct or false,
but there are only points of view, and with their help things are secondarily created. These
creations are found to correspond to real things when the starting point is correct. When it
is not, there is no such correspondence. But in both instances, no thing, no object is given even
for an instant by itself. This is so even when the most material fact seemingly defined by itself
is involved, such as a series of vocal sounds. 38
Saussure's belief that the perspective chosen by the observer influences the
nature of the fact observed, that it "creates" this fact (in his view this was
especially true of linguistics because its objects had no substance), meant
200 Chapter VII
that linguistics could become a true science only if a strict distinction

between the different perspectives, and especially between synchrony and
diachrony, were to be maintained. Since the same fact could appear in
different guises, as the analyses of alternations and analogy demonstrated,
linguists had to discard the naive attitude toward facts and keep the
different points of view separate and exactly defined.
Unlike Saussure's notions about analogy and alternations, these new
philosophical ideas were not simple extensions of Neogrammarian
theories. They were absent from - or even incompatible with - the other
linguistic idea systems current at the time, and they constituted a clear
break with the positivist epistemology oflate nineteenth-century historical
linguistics. In other words, the relativization of scientific facts, which was
one of the sources of Saussure's insistence on the strict separation of
synchrony and diachrony, constituted a radical philosophical discontinuity.
Why, then, did Saussure adopt a new philosophy of science, which, as
we shall see, was crucial not only for the separation of synchrony and
diachrony but also for other theoretical and methodological aspects of his
idea system? What considerations led him to abandon the belief that
linguistic facts are objectively given concrete entities, and to argue that it
is the choice of a point of view which creates the object under study and
determines its essential character? Why did he resort to such radical
philosophical innovations while maintaining so much of the Neo-
grammarian idea system?
Saussure commented on the sources of his new philosophy in notes
which appear to have been written in preparation for a book on general
linguistics. In order to justify his belief that linguistic facts are created by
the perspective from which they are examined, Saussure analyzed the
conditions under which the identity of a linguistic fact could be established.
Since the objects of linguistic investigation are not continually existing
substances but momentary actions, even in their most material aspects, the
identification of a linguistic fact must rely on the specification of the criteria
under which we consider two or more linguistic events to be identical.
Accordingly, in order to determine what is a linguistic fact, it is necessary
to specify what features are responsible for the establishment of a relation
ofidentity between two or more events. Saussure noted that there are many
ways in which linguistic forms can be considered identical, and that the
relationship of linguistic identity can be posited on the basis of many
different kinds of criteria. Thus, the Hottentot kantare may be said to be
identical to Latin cantare since they involve the same physiological and
acoustical actions, but this identification will be based on completely

different criteria than the assertion of the genetic identity of Latin cantare
and French chanter, or the synchronic, structural identity of different uses
of cantare in speech.39 Since the selection of the criteria to establish identity
between the elements in each of these pairs depends on the choice of a
particular perspective, and since there are no independent, objective means
of selecting one perspective as empirically or logically prior to others, there
is no such thing as an unconditional identity between linguistic phenomena,
and therefore no such thing as a linguistic fact independent of the
perspective from which one chooses to study it.
There are different kinds of identities. This creates different orders of linguistic facts. Outside
of the specific identity, a linguistic fact does not exist. But the relation of identity depends on
a varying point of view which one decides to adopt; there is thus no basis of a linguistic fact
outside a defined point of view which governs distinctions. 40
Saussure presented his arguments about the paramount role of the

observer's perspective in creating a fact as if he had derived them directly
from an examination of language. He argued that it was the nature of
language itself, its lack of continuous material existence, which dictated the
adoption of relativism with respect to linguistic facts. In other sciences, he
claimed, the material identity of an object is never in question, since the
object persists as a substance independently of the choice of a particular
perspective which can then be said to influence, but not to create, a
scientific fact. 41 Saussure did not specify whether there are sciences other
than linguistics (or semiology, more generally) whose facts are also entirely
determined by the point of view from which they are examined. His
philosophical reasoning, however, was presented as though it were based
entirely and exclusively on a logical examination of language, on an
objective search for linguistic facts conducted with no prior assumptions.
Anyone examining language, Saussure seems to be saying, will promptly
discover the relative nature of its facts. Still, the inherently linguistic and
purely empirical provenance of Saussure's new philosophy appears some-
what questionable in view of the fact that at around the same time, other
thinkers who were by no means concerned with linguistics and its objects
were voicing similar opinions about facts in general, or about the objects
of their particular sciences.
Saussure's philosophical revolution was, after all, not entirely unique.
The idea that facts are not empirically given entities, but constructs created
202 Chapter VII
by scientists and dependent on the contexts in which they are investigated,

can be found in a number of quite different idea systems proposed around
the turn of the century. Various versions and interpretations of this idea
appeared among the neo-Kantians, in the phenomenology of Husserl, in
the Gestaltpsychologie of Wertheimer, and in Weber's sociology based on
the notion of an ideal type.42
While Saussure's own interpretation of the sources of his philosophy
points to matters which are internal to linguistics , the parallels between
Saussure's philosophy and the views of some of his contemporaries in other
fields suggest that the causes of his rejection of the positivist notion offacts
were not unique to linguistics. These two aspects of Saussure's philosophi-
cal revolution need not, however, be treated as contradictory. Although
Saussure's own interpretation, which is based exclusively on linguistic
arguments, does not provide a full account of the innovation he introduced,
it is quite possible that the broad philosophical problems which made their
appearance in a number of fields around the turn of the century and led
to the breakdown of positivist epistemology and its replacement with
constructivist and relativist views made their appearance also in historical
linguistics. If this was the case, it is reasonable to ask what general philoso-
phical difficulties manifest within nineteenth-century linguistics could have
led Saussure to question the criteria for establishing the identity of
linguistic facts, and thus also to reject the notion that linguistic facts are
naturally given entities.
The internal, disciplinary motivation of cognitive change need not
exclude the possibility that this change is also motivated by broader
philosophical changes. The translation of such general intellectual trends
into the specific context of a given idea system is by no means a straightfor-
ward and well-understood process. An analysis of the manner in which the
internal problems concerning the identity of linguistic facts and the
external, philosophical changes contributed to the formulation of
Saussure's new philosophical framework should not only elucidate the
particular sources of the discontinuity introduced by Saussure, but also
shed some light on the more general interactions between the broad
currents of philosophical thought and their particular manifestations in
specialized disciplinary contexts. This relationship between broad philoso-
phical issues and their linguistic manifestations becomes apparent when we
examine the background of Saussure's problem with the identity of
linguistic facts : as we shall see, the philosophical problem which Saussure
attempted to resolve was the source of theoretical difficulties central to the

practice of historical linguistics.
Saussure was not the first linguist to be faced with the problem of
establishing what is meant by the identity of a linguistic fact. As soon as
the Neogrammarians defined language as a psychological activity, making
language synonymous with speech, the issue of when two separate
linguistic occurrences could be considered identical, and thus constitute a
single object of study, became problematic. Under the new definition,
language became the "entire sum of the products of the linguistic activity
of the entire sum of individuals in their reciprocal relations. All the groups
of sounds ever spoken, heard or represented, with all the associated ideas
whose symbols they were, all the numerous relations entered into by
elements of speech in the minds of individuals - all these belong to the
history of language."43
In order to reduce the confusion of this description of the objects of study
in historical linguistics, Paul had to use criteria which would allow him to
specify, if only implicitly, when (under what conditions) two or more
products of linguistic activity, i.e., unique utterances, could be considered
as a single linguistic fact. He accomplished this task by substituting the
organization oflinguistic elements in consciousness for individual linguistic
acts and their products. The associational groups which organized
language in consciousness were to be used as criteria of identity for actual
linguistic utterances, and their existence guaranteed a connection between
movements of the organs of speech that were temporally distinct, but
acoustically (and semantically) similar. 44 The same linguistic elements
were produced because their psychological causes were the same. By the
same token, Paul also managed to reduce and organize the heterogeneous
mass oflinguistic "products." His solution to the problem of identity, based
on the belief that language is a reflection of the psychological organization
of representations in individual minds, was also entirely consistent with his
beliefs about the need to avoid abstraction in scientific research. Since a
continuously existing cause served as the criterion of identity for a variety
of utterances, there was no need to treat a given linguistic element as an
abstract or "ideal" form.
But the individualism of the Neogrammarian doctrine meant also that
the problem of identity reemerged immediately, although on a different
level. Having established the organization of associational groups in
consciousness as a link between single utterances, Paul argued that this
organization was in a state of perpetual change for each individual speaker,
204 Chapter VII
and, moreover, that it was never identical for any two speakers. Given such
inherent variability in linguistic organization, the identification of the same
elements in the speech of different individuals (and the recognition of
gradual historical change) became problematic, and with it, the possibility
of describing the language of a community over a period of time. Unless
one could formulate criteria of identity for groups rather than individuals,
linguists could be justified only in describing the language of individual
speakers at single moments in time.
To describe the condition of language adequately it would be, strictly speaking. necessary to
observe with full accuracy every individual belonging to one community of speech, to note the
character of such groups of his ideas as depend upon language, and to compare with each other
the results gained in each individual case.45
The Neogrammarians never really posed the problem of linguistic

identity on the communal or social level. Given their aversion to
abstraction and the psychophysical definition of language, they could not
do so and still remain philosophically consistent. Thus, when Paul did
attempt to posit "usage" as the "average" and the "strictly normal part of
language," he began contradicting himself immediately.46
In fact, Paul presented his own arguments against the concept of "usage"
when he listed his objections against "Descriptive Grammar," whose task
it was "to register the grammatical forms and grammatical conditions in
use at a given date within a certain community speaking a common
language; to take note in fact of all that can be used by an individual without
his being misunderstood and without his utterances seeming to him
unusual."47 He did not specify how the object of descriptive grammar
differed from "usage," but he did claim that the former dealt "not in facts,
but merely in abstractions from observed facts," and therefore could not
provide any help in discovering relations of cause and effect: "For there is
no such thing as a connexion of cause between abstractions; cause and
effect exist only between real objects and facts."48 Paul's admonition that
causal links cannot be found among abstractions suggested that usage,
defined as the average or normal speech of a community and thus an
abstraction, could not serve as the basis for the discovery of the causal laws
governing linguistic change. Given the fact that, in practice, historical
linguists did (and had to) study usage rather than the speech of individuals
as was required by the Neogrammarian philosophy of science and the
psychophysical definition of language, the task of formulating linguistic
Saussure's Revo/utionjrom Within 205
laws could not be carried out consistently within the actual research
conducted by the N eogrammarians. In describing an observed phonetic
change which affected general usage, the Neogrammarians were using an
approach which could not satisfy their own criteria for explaining this
change causally. This conflict between the accepted methodology of
historical comparative research (based on the theoretically illegitimate
concept of usage), and the theoretical and philosophical requirement that
linguistic change be explained as a result of the psychological and
physiological forces affecting individual speech, often led to a "confusion
of the idea of individual language with that of average language or, in other
words, the fiction of the continuity of a linguistic base in time and in space,
and of the temporal continuity of one and the same pronunciation."49 This
might also have contributed to the separation of descriptive and historical
linguistics from linguistics as a nomothetic and explanatory science.
The Neogrammarian difficulties with the concept of usage constituted
only one aspect of the troubles they faced when attempting to reconcile
their beliefs about laws with their beliefs about abstraction. And, as in the
case of usage, the problem again involved the impossibility of establishing
criteria of identity without recourse to abstraction.
If, as the Neogrammarians believed, laws were statements of universal
causal connections between phenomena, the formulation of any law
governing a historical event was predicated on the inclusion of this event
in a class of identical events. In other words, in order to establish a law
which would explain a given linguistic change, it was necessary to classify
this change as an instance of a certain type of change that occurred
necessarily and invariably every time the same conditions and causes were
present. Within the Neogrammarian idea system, however, any attempt to
specify a class of identical historical changes was bound to be illegitimate,
since abstraction was a philosophical taboo, and without abstraction it was
impossible to classify groups of identical historical events taking place at
different times and places and in the speech of different individuals.
The example of the Idealists, discussed in the preceding chapter,
demonstrates how this contradiction between the prohibition of
abstraction in the name of full and adequate causal explanation, and the
task of constructing laws, led some linguists to abandon the very idea of
a nomothetic science of language. We have also seen that this problem of
the role oflaws in the historical sciences was important in fields other than
linguistics, and that the Idealists' solution was a linguistic version of the
206 Chapter VII
solution offered by such philosophers and historians as Croce and

Windelband.
Yet not all the linguists of the turn of the century turned to the idealist
philosophies and not all were willing to relinquish the goal of formulating
linguistic laws. The creation of nomothetic linguistics as either a supple-
ment to the existing historical discipline, or even a replacement for it, was
advocated by Mikolaj Kruszewski, Jan Baudouin de Courtenay, Albert
Sechehaye, Antoine Meillet, and Jacobus van Ginneken. The philosopher
A. Naville was not alone in his claim that "linguistics is, or at least tends
to become more and more a science oflaws"; and Kruszewski must have
regarded his own position as rather uncontroversial when he wrote:
"Everyone will agree that the subject matter of linguistics must be those
phenomena whose totality is called language, and that the object of this
science must be the discovery of those laws which govern such
phenomena."5o Problems with linguistic laws and with the identity of
linguistic facts manifested themselves not only as philosophical contra-
dictions but also as "practical" difficulties in theory and methodology.
Many linguists encountered these problems in connection with sound laws.
Although, following the initial enthusiasm of the mid-seventies, linguists
generally agreed that sound laws did not meet the requirements set for laws
in the natural sciences, the actual status of sound laws and the possibilities
of transforming them into true laws continued to be discussed. The
Neogrammarians themselves acknowledged that the most problematic
aspect of sound laws resulted from the fact that their validity was limited
in space and time. If sound laws were to become true laws, they had to be
reformulated as universal statements:
Some linguists (e.g. Curtius) have tried to differentiate between laws which operate today and
those which have operated in the past in order to circumvent this difficulty. They said that
a certain law was once operative, and that in its place there is now a new law. If we proceed
in this manner we create a state of affairs which is unheard of in any science. A supposition
according to which the same domain of observable data is regulated by different laws at different
periods of time cannot be called scientific. 51
According to Kruszewski (and others such as Meillet and Baudouin), what

sound laws failed to do was to specify in all the necessary detail those
characteristics of a given sound change that were responsible for its
occurrence. The limited validity of known sound laws meant that the actual
causal connections involved in sound changes, or their distinctive and
essential features, had not been properly identified. Sound laws were
temporally and spatially limited because they were formulated on the basis
of incomplete information, information which led linguists to assume
falsely that situations which must have been essentially different (because
they had different outcomes) were identical. It was this appearance of
superficial identity, or the corresponding inability to specifY distinctive
features, which stood in the way of formulating sound laws that would be
truly scientific and universal.
Kruszewski argued that sound laws, as they had been formulated so far,
were not valid for different languages and eras because what had been
characterized as "one and the same sound" in different languages was in
fact not one sound at all, but several different ones. 52 For example, the
Greek (and Slavic) s could not be the same sound as the Latin (and
German) s, since the latter was subject to rhotacism (change into r) and
the former was not. A properly formulated sound law would identify the
difference between the two kinds of s and specifY which of them is subject
to rhotacism. Only then would the law of rhotacism become truly scientific.
Kruszewski's argument that two sounds which do not submit to the same
changes must be essentially different was criticized by his teacher,
Baudouin de Courtenay, who pointed out that Kruszewski's hypothesis
made it impossible for the same sound (for example, the ancestral s
common to Greek and Slavic as well as Latin and German) ever to develop
into two different sounds (the two kinds of s, one subject to rhotacism and
the other not, for example). Baudouin also noted that Kruszewski's
argument relied not only on the assumption of essential, though micro-
scopic, differences between sounds in different languages subject to
different laws, but also on the assumption of a lack of such essential
differences among the pronunciations of different speakers of the same
language. This hypothesis of the fundamental identity in the pronunciation
of sounds among speakers of a given language was necessary if sound laws
were to apply to entire languages or dialects rather than single individuals,
but Baudouin claimed that it was untenable both on theoretical grounds
(since it made any explanation of linguistic differentiation impossible) and
on empirical grounds, since "this uniform German s and uniform Slavic s
constitute the purest fictions. Different Germans, as well as differnt Slavs,
pronounce a very different S.,,53
It is significant that the differences between Kruszewski and Baudouin
were not philosophical in nature. Both of them believed that it would be
possible to frame exact and deterministic linguistic laws only if truly
208 Chapter VII
identical linguistic situations were to be identified - if linguists could

determine when the pronunciation of sounds by different speakers is the
same and depends on the same psychological, physiological, social or
acoustic conditions. Both linguists accepted as a fundamental philosophi-
cal axiom the idea that under identical conditions we must encounter
identical outcomes, and both believed that the existing sound laws were not
true laws precisely because they failed to discover such criteria of identity.
The difference between Baudouin and Kruszewski was basically practical
in nature: Kruszewski believed that it was possible to define linguistic
identity in sufficient detail so as to articulate deterministic laws, while
Baudouin argued that language was too complex and heterogeneous a
phenomenon to allow for a definition of absolute identity:
Genuine "laws," the laws of causality, are hidden in the depths, in the intricate combination
of the most diverse elements. "Laws" do exist but not where they are being sought.
Of course, in any field, scientific thought, if it is not to be self-defeating, must start from the
premise that nothing happens without a "cause," nothing happens outside a successive chain
of causal connections and independently of conditions .... We do not reject causality, leaving
it to the nihilists and anarchists of science to do so.
We recognize necessity, lack ofexceptions, and absolute conditioning; we recognize regularity and
the necessity of absolutely identical changes under absolutely identical conditions and the absence
ofabsolutely identical changes under absolutely identical conditions. But at the same time we must
remember that the object of our observation, language, presents extremely complex
conditions, a multitude of the most diverse combinations, and a variety offactors that operate
in individuals as well as in the process of social interaction, including the interaction of the
individual with himself. We must also remember that absolute identity of conditions is an
extremely rare case. 54
This belief that language is so complex that it might be impossible to

establish absolute identity among linguistic phenomena and among the
relevant conditions in which they take place was shared by one of
Saussure's own students, Antoine Meillet. Like Baudouin, Meillet believed
that it was this difficulty, or even the impossibility of establishing criteria
of identity for linguistic phenomena, which made sound laws different from
scientific laws.
A phonetic law, limited in time and space and also dependent on multiple conditions which
have no chance of being reproduced identically, has nothing in common with physical laws,
apart from its name. 55
Whereas Kruszewski believed that the proper determination of absolute

linguistic identity would make possible the formulation of deterministic and
universal sound laws, Meillet argued that the identification of similar
linguistic situations (or of aspects of such situations) might allow linguists
to formulate statements describing what is possible in language without
stating what is necessary. Since full causal explanations, and thus also the
establishment of binding laws, are impossible without definitions of
identity, linguists might have to be satisfied with the discovery of linguistic
tendencies, generalizations describing what could happen in linguistic
development, without asserting what exact conditions would have to be
satisfied in order for these possibilities to be realized.
To summarize: the difficulties involved in transforming sound laws into
true scientific laws led linguists to raise the problem of what criteria should
be used to determine when linguistic phenomena could be considered
identical and thus subject to the same laws. Attempts to discover laws
governing the historical development oflanguage encountered a number of
inherent discrepancies and tensions: there appeared to be contradictions
between the psychophysical, individualist definitions of language and the
necessity to treat historical change as a social and collective phenomenon;
between the belief that change, and especially phonetic change, is the result
of a slow and uninterrupted process of microscopic transformations, and
the need to assume that, at least to some extent, language remains constant
and thus identical to itself; and between the assertion that linguistic
phenomena that are subject to the same laws must be essentially identical
even if they take place in different languages and at different times, and
difficulties in specifying differences between superficially identical events
which had necessarily to be distinct since they were not governed by the
same laws.
All these tensions and contradictions surfaced in theoretical discussions
of sound laws, one of the most contentious issues in historical linguistics
during the last quarter of the nineteenth century. Transforming the issue
of linguistic identity into a problematic topic, these discussions of sound
laws undermined the assumption that the identification and characteri-
zation of linguistic phenomena was a matter which could be resolved by
the empirical, "objective" observation of language, and so they also
prompted questions about the nature of linguistic facts. The question of
210 Chapter VII
which phenomena ought to be considered identical, and under what con-

ditions, appeared more and more to be determined by convention and to
depend on the goals and methods of investigation rather than on some
objective and absolute criteria of identity. Without such criteria, however,
the isolation of a linguistic fact could no longer be regarded as a given.
This tendency to regard identity as conventional and relative was given
an additional impulse when linguists such as Meillet and Baudouin began
to abandon the very hope that sound laws could become true scientific
laws. Substituting the notion of a linguistic tendency for that of sound law,
Meillet agreed that the task of defining identity in a manner adequate for
the formulation of deterministic historical laws could never be fulfilled. By
the same token, he also acknowledged implicitly that in order to formulate
general statements linguists had to rely on various methods of abstraction,
selecting only certain aspects and features of complex phenomena as
causally explainable.
The transition from the notion that identity between linguistic
phenomena could be determined in an entirely objective and absolute
fashion to the belief that identity could be recognized only in a partial and
conventional manner can be interpreted as a result of the internal
methodological and theoretical difficulties facing linguists around the turn
of the century. Ultimately these internal problems contributed to
Saussure's relativization of the concept of a scientific fact. But the cognitive
process which led from the idea that facts are objectively given entities
which could be reflected directly and faithfully in scientific concepts to the
belief that the perspective chosen by the observer determines the selection
and configuration of the characteristics attributed to the phenomenon
under study, and thus also the very nature of the phenomenon, was not
unique to linguistics. The profound internal difficulties of the accepted idea
system, undermining its philosophical foundations, were paralleled and
reinforced by more general philosophical currents external to the discipline
itself. It was the interaction between these two processes which ultimately
contributed to the change of philosophical assumptions introduced by
Saussure.
The connections and parallels between the epistemological difficulties
facing linguistics and those confronting other historical and social sciences
during the same period become apparent if we examine an early program-
matic work of Albert Sechehaye. In his Programme et methodes de fa
linguistique theorique (1908), Sechehaye attempted to provide philosophical
foundations for the establishment of a nomothetic science oflanguage, and
at the same time, though on a more general level, he addressed some of the
issues that were fundamental to linguists interested in the phenomenon of
sound laws.
Sechehaye's philosophical opinions reflected the traditional, positivist
position as it was interpreted by philosophers such as Adrien Naville, the
author of a work on the classification of the sciences (which, incidentally,
contained the earliest mention in print of Saussure's idea that linguistics
should constitute a part of the science of signs, semiology). In harmony with
its positivist sources, Sechehaye's book reaffirmed the opinion that
linguistic facts, like other scientific facts, were independent of the observer
and his perspective. And yet, in an attempt to supplement historical
linguistics with a science of laws, Sechehaye's philosophical ideas
undermined the established notion of what constituted a scientific fact; and
therefore we can use Sechehaye's work as an illustration of the process by
which the tension within positivism led to radical revisions of the central
assumptions of this philosophical system and of linguistics.
Sechehaye's nomothetic linguistics was somewhat similar to that of
Meillet. It was to be the science of what was possible in language rather
than of what was historically real. Sechehaye accepted the view that no
universal law could adequately explain a historical linguistic phenomenon.
According to Meillet, this limitation on the explanatory power of linguistic
generalizations was a consequence of the inherent complexity of linguistic
phenomena; according to Sechehaye, this limitation was a necessary and
logically unavoidable consequence of the temporal and spatial uniqueness
of all historical phenomena, whether linguistic or not. Sechehaye did not
believe that nomothetic (or theoretical) linguistics would ever replace the
existing historical discipline which he saw as a science offacts. Instead, the
linguistic science of laws was supposed to contain universally valid causal
generalizations, while the science offacts was to continue describing actual
historical developments.
In addition to the sciences of facts, there are, in the words of Adrien Naville, also sciences
of laws. These sciences do not have different objects, but they consider their objects from a
different point of view. Starting from the scientific postulate that wherever the same conditions
are present, the same effect should be produced, ... they are not interested in knowing when
or where a given phenomenon was realized, but instead they investigate in a general manner
the conditions of phenomena. 56
The two sciences postulated by Sechehaye were not supposed to be entirely

separate: the science oflaws was to be constructed in part on the basis of
212 Chapter VII
the empirical knowledge provided by the science offacts; while the science
offacts was to benefit from the principles established by the science oflaws.
Nevertheless, there were important differences between them. The science
oflaws was supposed to formulate generalizations which would be timeless
and universal, and thus applicable to many individual events. These
generalizations did not, however, have to explain each of these events
exhaustively, or to specify necessarily all the causal factors which contri-
buted to their occurrence at specific historical locations. As opposed to the
science oflaws, the science of facts had to provide adequate descriptions
of historical processes in all their concrete details, but was not required to
explain every aspect of these processes in terms of general laws. In other
words, the science oflaws was to be general and explanatory, but this very
universality meant that historically it would not be completely adequate.
The science offacts, on the other hand, was to be historically adequate but
not completely explanatory.
According to Sechehaye, both sciences dealt with exactly the same
phenomena and the same facts. They also employed the same methods,
though they differed in their goals. While the science of facts aimed at a
concrete fullness of description and was supposed to follow closely the
historical and topographic arrangement of facts in the world, the science
oflaws was directed toward the discovery of the regular and the universal.
We are thus dealing with a single method put in the service of two distinct goals. The same
scientific truths serve to construct two systems organized according to different ordering
principles. In one of them, science focusses on facts treated as real and concrete events in the
topological and chronological situations to which they belong, and attempts only to describe,
to classify, and to explain those elements which can be explained. In the other science one
also starts with facts, but does not return to them, striving instead for the general principles
which are the goal of investigation; one defines these principles, lists them, and justifies them
rationally as far as possible. Instead of trying to reconstruct imperfectly the real course of
history, one uses these principles in order to deduce a general system of what is possible in
each realm, given that the real is only a contingent manifestation of the possible. 57
The claim that the two sciences differed in their aims also meant that
they relied on a different organization of their statements and concepts.
The science of facts presented the temporal and spatial interconnections
among phenomena; the science of laws isolated aspects of reality and
ordered its statements according to the similarities among historically
distinct phenomena, or rather among the abstract, analytically isolated
aspects of these phenomena. It described not the actual (real and efficient)
causes of events, but principles of causal relations. In this sense it was more
abstract and more analytical than the science of facts.
The assertion that on the basis of the same body of data one could
construct two distinct sciences implied that the relationship between facts
and concepts could no longer be considered a matter of immediate and
unproblematic reflection. If a fact could be considered once as an
indivisible part of a concrete historical situation, defined in part by its
spatial and temporal coordinates - and if, for other purposes, "the same
fact" could be isolated, stripped of some of its attributes and compared to
other similar (but certainly not identical) facts - then one could no longer
claim that abstraction was an illegitimate procedure, a distorting lens to be
avoided at all costs. Accordingly, Sechehaye argued, as opposed to the
Neogrammarians and to most of his own contemporaries, including
Meillet, that abstraction was basic to all cognition: "it is impossible, in fact,
to describe or even to name things, without having accomplished before-
hand a work of comparison and abstraction."58
The acceptance of abstraction as a legitimate element of the scientific
method was in itself not a radical innovation. Although linguists and other
practicing scientists often condemned it, a number of nineteenth-century
positivist philosophers, among them Taine and Poulhan, regarded
abstraction as necessary for both everyday cognition and scientific
research. But abstraction was never fully incorporated into the system of
positivist philosophy, and as phenomenalism progressively blurred the
distinctions between concepts and facts, attempts to describe the role of
abstraction in cognition contributed directly to the relativization of the
notion of a scientific fact. 59 The notion that scientific facts and concepts
are constructs rather than natural givens, and that they depend on the
perspective adopted by the observer, appears as a consequence of the
argument that abstraction is an essential element of all perception, while
at the same time it can be manipulated in various ways in different types
of cognition. The fact that neither Sechehaye nor the positivist
philosophers drew this conclusion from their analyses of abstraction
testifies only to the centrality and significance of the belief in "facts" in
positivist philosophy. However, despite this centrality, traditional ideas
about the nature offacts and about the fact-concept relationship were being
undermined or modified in various late nineteenth-century philosophical
systems, including those of positivists such as Mach and Avenarius.
Still, when Sechehaye asserted that the science of laws and the science
of facts studied the same facts and differed from one another basically in
214 Chapter VII
their degree of abstractness, he was unaware that in effect he was

subverting also the very notion of a "fact". Because Sechehaye regarded
abstraction as entirely natural, he did not question its effect on scientific
observation or on the construction of linguistic concepts. For the same
reason, he did not inquire whether there were some rules and criteria
governing different kinds of abstraction, even though without such rules
and criteria, the "facts" which were supposed to be "the same" and to
constitute the foundation of all theory could be represented in various ways
in different sciences and yet could not be said to exist outside their
representation.
What, however, does the phrase "the same fact" mean in a situation in
which phenomena can be distinguished only with the help of abstraction,
the use of which is not regulated by any philosophical or methodological
principles? What happens to the empiricist understanding of facts when
they exist only as representations and when the concepts used to name
them are said to be constructions whose nature depends on the more or
less unconstrained choice of a scientific perspective? Is it possible to
maintain the notion of an independent scientific object given to the
observer when one admits that it is impossible to identify this object fully
and objectively or to specify the manner in which this entity could be
adequately expressed by a concept?
Saussure's skeptical attitude toward the empiricist idea of facts and
concepts was at least in part a response to these kinds of queries. They
arose on the grounds of the same positivist philosophy to whose transfor-
mation and crisis they directly contributed, and as such they were signifi-
cant in a number of disciplines and played a role in changing the general
intellectual climate around the turn of the century. Such queries became
especially important in the historical sciences, where the demand that
causal and universal laws be used to explain the course of unique historical
events encountered a body of highly detailed but descriptively organized
knowledge. The resulting questioning of the epistemological and
methodological foundations of the nomothetic sciences, and the exami-
nation of the explanatory power of laws in the social and historical realm,
led to the acceptance of various kinds and degrees of abstraction as
procedures necessary for the formulation of scientific statements of any
kind, and thus contributed to the rejection of the notion that there are
unconditional and objectively given criteria for determining the identity of
facts. This link between the idea that facts are created by the perspective
from which reality is studied and the belief that the lack of rules governing
Saussure's Revolutionfrom Within 215
abstraction excludes the possibility of a privileged perspective also consti-

tuted an element in Saussure's own reasoning.
One never has the right to consider one aspect oflanguage as prior or superior to others, or
as one which must serve as a starting point. One would have such a right if there were an aspect
that was prior to others, that is to say, an aspect given outside of all the operations of
abstraction and generalization on our part. It is sufficient to reflect for a moment to see that
there is not one such aspect of language. 60
The argument which led from the Neogrammarian version of positivism

to Saussure's constructivism reflected general philosophical considerations
and was applicable to fields other than linguistics. Its applicability could
even be extended beyond the social and historical sciences. And yet it was
in the historical disciplines - particularly linguistics - that it was voiced
with special force and became especially prominent. 61
Important as these difficulties were in all the social sciences, they
appeared in a particularly stark form in linguistics, where, as we have seen,
the problem of the criteria of identity was intimately linked with one of the
central aims of late nineteenth-century linguistics: the reformulation of
sound laws into "true" scientific laws whose validity would not be limited
in time or space. The lack of success in accomplishing this task suggested
that absolute identity, identity without abstraction, was impossible; while
the multiplicity and heterogeneity of various possible modes of defining
partial identity, as revealed in numerous attempts to define sounds and
their transformations, prompted questions about the objective empirical
quiddity of linguistic facts. One might suggest that in linguistics it was
precisely the theoretical and practical importance of specifying possible
and legitimate modes of abstraction, and the related problem of defining
the criteria of identity, which account for the early timing and the urgent
and direct tone of Saus sure's formulation of his new philosophy of science.
This is our avowal of faith in linguistic matters: in other domains, one can speak of things "from
such and such point of view," certain that one will be able to find firm ground in the object
itself. In linguistics, we deny in principle the existence of objects that are given, of things which
continue to exist when one passes from one realm of ideas to another, and which consequently
could be considered as "things" existing in many realms, as if they were given by themselves.62
As we have seen, Saussure's insistence on the uniqueness of the situation

in linguistics need not be understood too literally: the arguments he used
216 Chapter VII
in linguistics grew out of philosophical problems which, even if especially

central to this field, were common to many fields. These problems - the role
of abstraction in perception and in the construction of concepts, or the
rules governing the establishment of identity of phenomena to be described
by a law - were generated by the positivist philosophy dominant in
nineteenth-century science. Formulated within this positivist framework,
these problems also contributed to its crisis and transformation.
Saussure's constructivist position can be understood both as an attempt
to settle issues resulting from the tensions and contradictions within
linguistics, and as an example of how general philosophical problems can
manifest themselves in specific fields and receive special solutions within
them. The extent to which these various solutions resemble one another
testifies both to their common provenance and to the constraints which
posing a given problem within a particular philosophical framework
exercises upon the range and character of the responses presented in
answer to it.
Saussure's response to the problems of positivism was, of course, not the
only possible one: the Idealists who took their inspiration from a differnt
philosophical tradition reacted to the difficulties within the Neo-
grammarian idea system in a very different manner. But while the Idealists
explicitly rejected the positivist tradition, Saussure did so by implication
only. In many respects his innovation did not affect the Neogrammarian
inheritance, and even his new philosophy did not immediately transform
historical linguistics. It did, however, have profound effects on the system
of synchronic linguistics which Saussure outlined. These effects will be
discussed in the following section.
Saussure's introduction of the new philosophy of science was thus both
a result of internal tensions and difficulties within the dominant linguistic
idea system and the outcome of a more general crisis in positivist
philosophy. It seems impossible to decide which of these factors was
causally prior or ultimately determinant, for they worked together to
undermine the philosophical assumptions upon which the linguistic idea
systems of the Neogrammarians and their successors were constructed.
The general philosophical problems plaguing positivism found their
expression in problems which appeared at first to be purely linguistic; and,
similarly, the solutions proposed in answer to these linguistic problems
were paralleled and reinforced by the more general solutions proposed by
a number of philosophers and social scientists. The radical philosophical
discontinuity engendered in Saussure's discussion of the nature of a
linguistic fact was doubtlessly made more acceptable given that similar
solutions were being presented in other fields, but its plausibility was also
enhanced because the introduction of just such a discontinuity offered a
resolution to persistent theoretical and methodological tensions within
linguistics.
As we have seen in an earlier section, the philosophical innovation
introduced by Saussure did not eliminate the possibility of extensive
continuities. Thanks to this discontinuity, Saussure was able to elaborate
and develop certain implications of the Neogrammarian idea system which
were previously blocked by the accepted philosophy of science. The syn-
chrony/diachrony dichotomy implicit in many aspects of the
Neogrammarian idea system could be fully formulated only when Saussure
rejected the philosophical assumptions which had earlier blocked its devel-
opment. Given the interdependence of the various components of an idea
system, cognitive discontinuites introduced as solutions to persistent
tensions and contradictions often affect other aspects of an idea system,
but it appears that their effects need not always lead to greater
discontinuity. Paradoxically, perhaps, discontinuity may on occasion serve
to preserve or recreate continuity.
Structuralism: Language as an Autonomous Object
Although the full formulation of the langue/parole dichotomy was a late

addition to Saussure's idea system, the accepted definition of language as
the object of linguistic investigations troubled Saussure as early as 1894.
In a letter to Meillet, Saussure complained about the impossiblility of
working in the field as long as linguistic facts and language itself remained
badly defined and unclassified.
Preoccupied for a long time already with the logical classification of these facts and the points
of view from which we examine them, I see more and more both the immensity of labor
necessary to show the linguist what he is doing by reducing each operation to the predetermined
category, and, at the same time, the futility of all that can finally be done in linguistics ...
(Constantly), this ineptness ofthe current terminology, the necessity of reforming it and thus
of showing what sort of object is language in general, spoils my historical pleasure, even though
I have no greater wish than not to have to occupy myself with language in general. 63
Why did Saussure argue that there existed such a dire need to demonstrate
"what sort of object is language"?
218 Chapter VII
This need to redefine language was by no means shared by other linguists

of the time. Having rejected the definition of language as an autonomous
organism, the Neogrammarians and the majority of their contemporaries
seemed entirely satisfied with a definition of language as a psychophysical
activity based on associations between sounds and ideas. The identification
oflanguage and speech survived for many years as an almost unquestioned
dogma. As late as 1908, Sechehaye, Saussure's student, was still claiming
that language was "The set of means used by a psychophysical being to
express his thoughts,"64 and that spoken language "rests on the set of
attitudes thanks to which a speaking subject associates ideas with the often
very complex movements of the vocal organs and with the corresponding
auditory perceptions."65 Despite the fact that linguists gradually began
placing more emphasis on the psychological rather than physiological
aspects of language, the common definition of language during the late
nineteenth century and the early years of the twentieth was basically an
extension of the Neogrammarian notion of language as an activity of
individual speakers. What, then, were the causes of Saussure's dissatis-
faction with the accepted definition of language?
Saussure's letter to Meillet suggests that Saussure's philosophical
innovations were in part responsible for his questioning ofprinciples which
until then appeared be unquestionable.
The Neogrammarians assumed that the idea that language was a
psychophysical mechanism required no separate justification. The identifi-
cation oflanguage with human speech ability was regarded as a fact whose
objectivity and accuracy could hardly be suspect, and which in any case
could be confirmed empirically. This view was shared by Sechehaye who,
like the Neogrammarians, believed in the empirical immediacy and objec-
tivity of discrete facts. Whether the linguist was interested in the science
of laws or the science of facts, whether he studied the functioning of
language or its historical development, the object of linguistics remained
always the same: language, defined as "the psychological activity of man
accomplished with the mediation of his organism."66 But Sechehaye's belief
in the solidity of facts no longer squared well with his beliefs about
abstraction in scientific reasoning and about the possibility of constructing
different sciences using different degrees of abstraction. Having allowed for
the free use of abstraction, Sechehaye could no longer legitimately assume
that any definition of language was self-evident and required no justifi-
cation.
Saussure's claim that scientific facts were creations of the particular

perspective chosen by the observer, rather than purely objective entities
independent of the scientific mode of investigation, can be understood as
a culmination of the process of philosophical change which began with the
attempts to explain historical development as law-governed and ended
with the strict separation of the various scientific perspectives.
Far from it being the object which antedates the point of view, it is the point of view which
creates the object; besides, nothing tells us in advance that one way of considering the fact
in question takes precedence over the others or is in any way superior to them. 67
This relativization of scientific facts was the source of Saussure's demand

that the various perspectives adopted in the study of language be kept
separate and that linguistic facts be classified not only empirically but also
logically. It allowed him to question the principles and conventions
governing the formulation and use of linguistic terminology and the
exclusive claims to validity and objectivity of the traditional psychophysical
definition oflanguage. If choice of a perspective and a mode of abstraction
are said to determine the nature of an object under investigation, no
definition oflanguage can be considered universal, objective, or empirically
necessary. Accordingly, a definition which the Neogrammarians had
treated as self-evident was for Saussure just one of many possible
definitions. Moreover, each of the possible definitions of language was
limited by the point of view from which it was formulated and which, in
effect, it delineated and described, so that there could be no prior or
superior manner of defining language.
Saussure's philosophical innovations had both a constraining and a
liberating effect on the idea system of linguistics. The relativistic under-
standing of linguistic facts was constraining insofar as it required that a
linguist specify the point of view which he has selected for his study and
that he maintain this point of view consistently, justifying his use of
linguistic concepts entirely within the limits delineated by his chosen
perspective. In other words, the new philosophy set new requirements for
linguistic methodology: linguists now had to separate strictly the various
analytic perspectives which previously could have been left undefined. On
the other hand, the new philosophy of science meant that scholars were free
to question previously unquestionable definitions and to construct more
than one model of language. They had a choice of various legitimate
220 Chapter VII
perspectives for their investigation and could study language as a

multifaceted and heterogeneous phenomenon.
The freedom to question, however, is not the same as the reason for
questioning, and the fact that Saussure's philosophical innovations
suggested the possibility of new definitions oflanguage explains neither his
dissatisfaction with the received ideas nor his choice of the new definition.
If Saussure's philosophy created the conditions for a change of ideas about
the nature of language, the character and direction of these changes had
to be shaped by other considerations.
The definition of the object of study, or, less formally, the basic beliefs
about the nature of this object, constitute some of the most central philoso-
phical elements of the scientific idea system. By focusing the attention of
investigators on particular aspects of a phenomenon, by asserting its fun-
damental character and establishing its relationship to other realms of
experience, the explicit or implicit definition of the object of study steers
scientists toward particular types of questions and problems, and toward
particular types of theoretical explanation. For example, having defined
language as the creative expression of an individual, the Idealists were
much more likely to explain linguistic changes as a reflection of aesthetic
sensibilities than as the result of a physiological tendency to reduce the
effort necessary for the pronunciation of sounds. Since a change in the
definition of language can have repercussions throughout a linguistic idea
system, it is necessary to examine Saussure's reasons for advocating a new
definition of language.
In many instances the redefinition of the object of study accompanies
broader philosophical and theoretical changes. For example, the
Neogrammarians' rejection of the early comparativist definition of
language as an organism and their adoption of the psychophysical defini-
tion of language were influenced by the general philosophical shift from
Romanticism and Hegelianism to positivism, and by the emergence of
psychology as a disciplinary model for all the human sciences. Similarly,
under the influence of the Crocean idea of history as the expression of the
human creative spirit, the Neo-Idealists redefined language as an aesthetic
expression of intuitions. In both of these instances, the redefinition of
language was part of a philosophical and theoretical transformation, and
the explanations of linguistic phenomena were clearly affected by changes
in this definition.
And yet, through all these changes, the basic problematics of linguistics,
or what might be called the pre-theoretical formulation of the subject of the
discipline, remained essentially the same. Whether language was defined

as an organism, as a psychophysical mechanism of speech, or as art,
throughout the nineteenth century the substantive interests of linguists and
the main task of their investigations remained the same: to provide an
explanation of the history of language by formulating (preferably) causal
accounts of linguistic changes.
This lack of an immediate or unequivocal connection between the
definition of the object under study and the problematics of the discipline
is also apparent if one examines the process by which synchronic linguistics
was introduced. Initially, the formulation of the need for synchronic or
static studies did not entail any changes in the definition of language. In
the work of Baudouin de Courtenay and Sechehaye the definition of
language remained much like that of the Neogrammarians despite the fact
that both of them advocated the study of linguistic states. It was only in
Saussure's work that the definition oflanguage was radically changed (and
even in his case, the full elaboration of the langue/parole dichotomy had to
wait until the third course). 68
The cases of the Neogrammarians and Idealists, as well as the late date
of Saussure's redefinition of language, might suggest that there are no
connections between the definition of the object of study and the general
selection of problematics. Although history meant different things to Bopp,
Schleicher, and Brugmann, their belief that history, or the discovery of the
causes and processes oflinguistic change, should constitute the only topic
of linguistics survived the changes each of these scholars introduced into
the definition of language. The fact that the introduction of a new
synchronic problematics did not immediately bring with it changes in the
definition oflanguage also suggest the absence of an imperative connection.
Still, the mutual constraint of two types of ideas need not always be
direct: it is possible that the conjunction of a certain definition oflanguage
and a given, broadly defined problematics might appear unacceptable
because of their joint consequences, which may be rejected as invalid or
impossible on totally external grounds. Such consequences might, for
example, undermine the methodology or affect the situation of a field
among its neighbours. When combined with the belief that language is a
psychophysical mechanism, the introduction of synchronic linguistics did
indeed have such unacceptable consequences. These consequences were
unacceptable to Saussure not because they appeared irrational, incorrect,
or contradictory, but because they seemed to remove theoretical linguistics
from the sphere of linguists' interests. As we shall see, these consequences
222 Chapter VII
implied a transformation of linguistics into psychology and destroyed its

autonomy as a disciplinary endeavor. It was because of these social as well
as cognitive consequences that Saussure argued not only for the possibility
of redefining language, but also for the necessity of doing so.
Given the Neogrammarians' definition of language and their choice of
problematics, the goal of the Neogrammarian theory of language was to
explain linguistic change in terms of constant and universal physiological
and psychological laws. This theoretical preoccupation meant that the
psychological organization of language was interesting to the
Neogrammarians only insofar as it could serve to explain change (e.g.,
theory was to explain such phenomena as the formation of new words by
agglutination, the mechanism of analogical formation, or the processes of
popular etymology). Even the attempts to reconcile traditional grammati-
cal categories with the organization of language in consciousness were
regarded as auxiliary to the understanding of linguistic transformations.
These exclusive interests in the history of language and in those
psychological factors which account for the creation and evolution of
linguistic forms were transmitted even to psychology proper. In this respect
the psychologist Wilhelm Wundt was no different from his opponent
Hermann Paul: he investigated primarily those psychological processes
which led to the creation of new forms, or transformations of existing
forms, without paying much attention to those processes which maintained
the organization of language in consciousness and allowed for the habitual
and regular use of grammar and the everyday understanding of other
speakers. (The disagreement between Wundt and Paul concerned the
significance of collective as opposed to individual psychology in linguistic
studies.) Like his predecessors, Sechehaye believed that theoretical
linguistics should be based on the psychology oflanguage. Nevertheless, he
criticized Wundt for his excessive attention to change and evolution, and
thus for his insufficient attention to problems of normallanguag~ use and
organization:
Wundt studies the phenomena by which the activity of man intervenes to create or modify
language. He is not interested in the completed creations or modifications from the moment
when, having become habitual, they are incorporated into the set of our linguistic dispositions.
But it is because of this set of habits or linguistic dispositions that our most complex thoughts
find spontaneous and as if autonomous expression. This is, if not the unique, then at least the
pricipal object of theoretical linguistics. 69
Sechehaye claimed that Wundt had gone astray because his exclusive
attention to problems of linguistic evolution had prevented him from for-
mulating the central problem of the psychology oflanguage. Only the study
of linguistic habits and dispositions (that is, only the pursuit of a non-
historical linguistics ) can lead to an understanding of the functioning and
organization oflanguage, and these were the issues which should be central
to psychology of language.
Following the Neogrammarians as well as Wundt, Sechehaye assumed
that language formed an organized system in consciousness; but while his
predecessors regarded this organization of language as an unproblematic
given, Sechehaye argued that an explanation of the manner in which
language is organized should constitute the principal goal of linguistic
theory.
Moreover, this system (of representations of sounds and ideas) does not exist in each
individual except by virtue of the dispositions acquired by his nervous system. It is an integral
part of his psychophysical life in general, and as a phenomenon - of acquired dispositions and
concrete manifestations - is it not finally explicable by the general principles governing this
life? Because the rules oflanguage in general are called grammar, one can extend the sense
of this word by applying it to all the laws which regulate the acquired language of an individual
or a collectivity at a given moment, to all that is based on habit, disposition, and the regular
association of ideas, starting from distinctions among the constitutive articulations of a word
all the way to the most ungraspable nuances of stylistics, through lexicography and syntax.
One can refer to the problem that is posed when one searches for a psychophysical foundation
of grammar, of its origins, laws, and functioning, as the grammatical probiem. 70
Since Sechehaye's definition of language was the same as that of his

predecessors, the "grammatical problem" which he had formulated as the
theoretical task of linguistics was similar to the formulation of the
Neogrammarians. Like the Neogrammarians, Sechehaye wanted to eludi-
cate the connection between the psychophysical organization of man and
the system of language. There was, however, one important difference:
Sechehaye argued that linguists should provide psychophysical explan-
ations not only of linguistic change and development but also of the static
aspects oflanguage, of its everyday functioning and organization. What did
it mean, however, to ask for psychophysical explanations of linguistic
states? What exactly would a theory of the functioning and organization
of language entail?
In historical linguistics, the role of psychology and physiology was more
or less agreed upon (at least in theory, for in practice its role was far more
224 Chapter VII
limited). Their role in static linguistics needed clarification. The

Neogrammarians and their immediate successors argued that psychologi-
cal and physiological knowledge should be used in order to isolate and
describe the forces responsible for linguistic changes. Given the change of
one sound into another, or the disappearance of a certain ftectional suffix,
linguists were supposed to search for the psychological causes of these
events. Having defined language as a psychophysical mechanism,
Sechehaye expected to extend the same principle of explanation to static
linguistics. A grammatical state "reflects without doubt the psychological
state of the organism in which it is realized," and therefore static linguistics
must explain how patterns of human thought, the psychological and
physiological characteristics of man, determine the grammatical organi-
zation of language. 71 For example, static morphology had to answer the
question, "how is it possible to construct something whose order and form
correspond to the order and form of thought using symbols of an
articulatory character?"72 Similarly, phonology must explain how the
psychological dispositions and the physiological structure of the organs of
speech determine the system of sounds in a given language.
Thus, the definition oflanguage as a psychophysical activity meant that
the static organization oflanguage should be studied as a reflection, or an
expression, of psychological processes which in themselves were not
linguistic. Wundt carried this "psychological" manner of explaining
language to an extreme, since he was more interested in the various types
and forms of ideas which a language should express, given the psychologi-
cal make-up of man, than in the actual linguistic means which various
languages use to express these ideas. Sechehaye believed that linguists
should not consider ideas and modes of thought as independent of the
linguistic forms used to express them. The task of static linguistics, there-
fore, could be fulfilled only by an examination of the manner in which ideas
are embodied in symbols.
One can see therefore that Wundt is interested only in values and not in signs of values; he
thinks he can consider grammatical categories in abstracto, in their psychological and logical
existence apart from the nature of the signs that carry them. The true grammatical problem,
or rather, according to our terminology, the morphological problem, is to know how one
should organize materially, in concreto, the abstract system of ideas and relations; and the
importance of this problem consists in the fact that the means of expression and the thing
expressed mutually condition one another and are absolutely solidary.73
This call for the examination of language as a system of concrete signs did
not mean, however, that Sechehaye regarded a purely linguistic exami-
nation of language states to be possible. Although signs and the manner in
which they were organized were not supposed to be regarded only as more
or less successful embodiments of human intellect, they were not to be
studied independently of the modes of thinking which they expressed.
Sechehaye's goal was to discover how language as a system of signs reflects
ideas, the logical and affective categories of thought, etc. The difficulty
resulted from the fact that Sechehaye also asserted that there was complete
identity betwen signs and ideas, between language and thought. This would
imply that ideas could not be identified apart from their linguistic
embodiments, and vice versa. However, it was not at all clear how, given
the psychophysical definition of language, one could describe a system of
linguistic signs without reference to modes of thought, or how one could
study the manner in which ideas were reflected in language if both were
absolutely solidary and identical. Sechehaye seems to argue that linguists
should study the relations among things whose separate existence he
himself had denied.
Sechehaye came very close to asserting that the study of linguistic
organization should consist of a description of the relations and arrange-
ments among linguistic signs. However, his definition of language as an
activity and not a state, and as a psychophysical rather than a linguistic
phenomenon, prevented him from formulating such a purely linguistic
program for the study of synchrony. Even when he emphasized the absolute
identity between language and thought, or between "the thing to be
expressed and the act by which it is expressed," he stopped short of drawing
any consequences from this identity, and continued to argue that the task
of static linguistics is to examine relationships between (psychological)
ideas and (linguistic) symbols. 74
After having justly reproached Wundt for not having recognized the grammatical problem,
Mr. Sechehaye himself does not arrive at a satisfactory formulation. Because the only
sufficient idea would be to pose the grammatical problem in itself and in everything that
distinguishes it from all other psychological or logical acts. The more the author strives to
destroy what seems to him to be an illegitimate barrier between the form of thought and
thought, the more he seems to us to distance himself from his own goals, which would be to
fix the field of expression and to conceive of its laws not in terms of what they share with our
psychology in general but in terms of what is, on the contrary, specific and absolutely unique
to the phenomenon of language. 75
226 Chapter VII
According to Saussure, Sechehaye could not fulfill the goal of a linguistic

description of the organization of language because the definition of
language he inherited from the Neogrammarians directed him towards
psychological rather than linguistic problems. Once language was identified
as a psychophysical activity, static linguistics, or at least its theoretical
explanations, appeared as a specialty of the discipline of psychology.76
As long as language was defined as a psychophysical activity, the
primary task of synchronic linguistics was to investigate the relations
between linguistic forms (which could be as simple a single sounds or as
elaborate as entire utterances) and the psychological and physiological
conditions they represented. The relations among linguistic elements (the
rules of a language) were not to be elaborated apart from the laws of
consciousness, and there were no criteria, other than the psychological
laws of association, which could guide an independent discussion of
linguistic organizatiaon. In practice, Sechehaye and other linguists and
psychologists who embraced the psychophysical definition of language
referred to the traditional grammatical categories, but this practice was not
theoretically justified. Linguists were supposed to refer every linguistic
form to the logical or affective pattern of thought which this form reflected.
The dominant interest of static linguistics was to be the process which led
from "abstract" ideas to "concrete" utterances, acts of individual speech.
Moreover, despite the fact that static linguistics was to study states and not
events, as long as language was defined primarily as an activity, linguists
were supposed to examine the organization of language as a series of
psychological and physiological actions - processes involving simultaneous
translation of ideas into words. In other words, at every point of the
investigation there seemed to exist a need to refer to psychology and
physiology, to non-linguistic, external principles and processes.
Saussure did not deny that language can be studied by disciplines other
than linguistics, nor did he object to the inclusion of linguistics in some
broader field (for example social psychology, though semiology, the science
of signs, was to be the principal reference disipline for linguistics). Never-
theless, Saussure argued that iflanguage is to be understood as a distinct
phenomenon, then it is necessary to define it in a purely linguistic manner,
concentrating on those of its features which are specific to language.
Linguistic organization has to be studied by itself, as a phenomenon in its
own right, rather than as a reflection of some other kind of process. Thus,
instead of asking about the relationship between a linguistic form and some
psychological category (for example, thought), linguists should examine the
relations among linguistic forms themselves and the modes and principles
of organization of these forms.
From whatever direction we approach the question, nowehere do we find the integral object
of linguistics. Everywhere we are confronted with a dilemma: if we fix our attention on only
one side of each problem, we run the risk of failing to perceive the dualities pointed out above;
on the other hand, if we study speech from several viewpoints simultaneously, the object of
linguistics appears to us as a confused mass of heterogeneous and unrelated things. When one
proceeds in this manner one opens the door to several sciences - psychology, anthropology,
normative grammar, philology, etc. - which are clearly distinct from linguistics, but which
might claim speech, in view of the faulty methods of linguistics, as one of their objects.
As I see it, there is only one solution to all the foregoing difficulties: we must start from the
very outset in the realm of language and use language as the norm of all other manifestations of
speech.77
Since the perspective adopted by a researcher creates the object under

investigation, studying language from a non-linguistic point of view
disguised its specific nature and eliminated from consideration those
characteristcs which were unique to it. Such a non-linguistic perspective
also undermined the autonomy of the field, making it dependent on
psychology, physiology, or philology. Ultimately, all of Saussure's concepts
relating to synchronic linguistics were informed by this concern with the
autonomy of the synchronic analysis of language.
In other words, although the extension of the problematics oflinguistics
to include the static organization of language did not by itself require any
change in the definition of language, it did lead to such a change, because
the conjunction of the old definition and the new problematics directed
theoretical linguistics into psychological research and, thereby, also
seemed to remove synchronic studies of language from linguistics. The
concerns which led to the formulation of a new definition of language had
to do with the relationship of the new branch of linguistics to the
neighboring sciences. There was no question of actual internal con-
tradictions or tensions within the idea system.
The need to make static linguistics independent of psychology (and other
related sciences) underlies much of Saussure's theory oflanguage. Insisting
that language should be studied as a phenomenon sui generis, Saussure
attempted to divest it of all psychological and physiological entanglements.
In order to appreciate the role of Saussure's concern with the autonomy
of synchronic linguistics it is enough to describe briefly some of the key
concepts introduced in the Cours.
228 Chapter VII
1. Saussure's notion of a linguistic sign clearly exemplifies his attempt

to free linguistic objects from psychological and physiological connections.
The Neogrammarians tended to define signs as the "material" (auditory,
or visual in the case of writing) elements used to denote ideas. This material
view of signs was questioned by Sechehaye. Following the assumption of
psychophysical parallelism, Sechehaye argued that not a sound but a
mental "auditory image" was the defining characteristic of a sign. Despite
this modification and despite repeated assertions that signs and ideas were
identical and inseparable, Sechehaye often used the notion of sign to refer
to auditory images as opposed to the concepts and ideas for which they
stood. His very program for static linguistics - the investigation of the
relationships between ideas or thoughts and language - relied on a
recognition of the distinctiveness of ideas and signs and continued to refer
the researcher beyond language. Iflinguistic signs could be interpreted only
by reference to non-linguistic thoughts, ideas, or logical and affective
categories, then the study oflanguage could not be autonomous. Every sign
had to be studied as a separate entity and related to the non-symbolic
reality for which it stood.
Saussure's definition of a sign eliminated this need for outside reference.
Signs were no longer related to psychological, logical, or affective
processes, but to one another. They were no longer forms of thought but
ideas and concepts themselves, while simultaneously and inseparably they
were also acoustic images. Saussure's famous definition of a sign as the
insoluble union of a signijiant (an acoustic image) and a signijie (a concept)
eliminated all need for outside reference. In studying signs, linguists were
studying all of language, both its "meaning" and its "form." There was no
longer any necessity to relate psychological processes (for example, the
formation of concepts) to physiological movements, the production of
sounds, or even the formation of acoustic images. Linguistics was to study
the relations among signs themselves, each of which could be defined
internally by its relationship to other signs. The definition of a sign as an
insoluble union of signijiant and signifie allowed Saussure to separate the
specifically linguistic aspects of language from its psychological and
physiological determinants, since he argued that while signs were specifi-
cally linguistic, concepts, as such, were psychological and sounds both
psychological and physiological.
Language can also be compared with a sheet of paper: thought is the front and the sound the
back; one cannot cut the front without cutting the back at the same time; likewise in language:
one can neither divide sound from thought nor thought from sound; the division could be
accomplished only abstractly, and the result would be either pure psychology of pure
physiology?8
2. Saussure's description of the linguistic sign as the union between

signijiant and signijie was not the only means by which he attempted to
remove non-linguistic considerations from his definition of language. The
concept of a linguistic sign was further dissociated from external relations
by Saussure's emphasis on its arbitrary character. Following William
Dwight Whitney, he argued that there are no intrinsic "rational" or
"motivated" links between the auditory image and the concept.
The bond between the signifier and the signified is arbitrary. Since I mean by sign the whole
that results from the association of the signifier with its signified, I can simply say: the linguistic
sign is arbitrary.79
This assertion eliminated the need to treat the relationship between a

concept and an auditory image as a meaningful linguistic problem. But
Saussure's notion of linguistic arbitrariness extended further. Going
beyond the traditional notion of arbitrariness, Saussure argued that the
relationship between the sign as an entity and the object to which it refers
is itself arbitrary. In this manner the connections between language and the
external world were also weakened. Language was not to be regarded as
a nomenclature, a series of names attached to objects; and by the same
token, the problem of how language represents the world was removed
from the sphere of linguistic interests.
The characteristic role of language with respect to thought is not to create a material phonic
means for expressing ideas but to serve as a link between thOUght and sound, under conditions
that of necessity bring about the reciprocal delimitation of units. Thought, chaotic in nature,
has to become ordered in the process of its decomposition. There is thus neither materiali-
zation of thoughts nor spiritualization of sounds, but the somewhat mysterious fact is rather
that "thought-sound" implies these divisions and that language works out its units by taking
shape between two shapeless masses. 80
This more radical understanding of the arbitrary character oflanguage and

the role it played in the establishment of linguistic autonomy has been
noted by Andre Martinet:
230 Chapter VII
The arbitrary attribution of a given signifier to a given signified is only one aspect of linguistic
autonomy, the other aspect of which involves the choice and delimitation ofsignifieds. In fact,
the independence oflanguage from non-linguistic reality manifests itself not only in the choice
of signifiers but also in the manner in which language interprets reality in its own terms,
establishing autonomously, though no doubt in consultation with reality, what used to be
called its concepts and what we prefer to call its oppositions. 8 )
3. By eliminating the connection between language and the external

world - including language speakers and their psychological and
physiological characteristics as well as the reality to which linguistic signs
refer - Saussure created a situation in which only the relationships among
signs were left to linguistic investigation. Each individual sign could be
defined only in relation to other signs, in terms of the similarities it shared
with them and differences which separated them. This was the case not
only for the signifie which could no longer be described in relation to some
non-linguistic psychological process, but also for the signifiant which in the
form of an acoustic image could be defined neither in terms of material
sounds with particular physical characteristics nor in terms of the physio-
logical movements of the organs of speech. In other words, Saussure's
attempt to formulate the theoretical basis of synchronic linguistics in purely
linguistic terms led almost directly to the structuralist notion of value, that
is, to definitions of the elements of the system in terms of the differences
separating them from other elements. It is as if, after denying linguists the
right to discuss sound, meaning, thought, psychological and physiological
processes, etc., Saussure was left with empty ciphers whose form and
significance could be determined only negatively, by opposition to other
elements in the system. It was this purely formal and internal approach to
linguistic organization which characterized Saussure's structuralism.
Saussure's notion of a linguistic system is drastically different from that
of his predecessors. Although the Neogrammarians believed that language
was organized in the consciousness and that it formed a system, as long
as they defined both ideas and sounds by reference to psychology and
physiology, that is, to phenomena which themselves did not form part of
the system, they did not need to treat each element as secondary to the
system itself. For the Neogrammarians, every linguistic form could be
defined externally, and the organization ofthese forms into a structure was
a secondary and separate phenomenon. By denying the possibility of
external references, Saussure eliminated the notion of an independent
linguistic sign and established the priority of the structure over the elements
of which it is composed.
Everything that has been said up to this point boils down to this: in language there are only
differences. Even more important: a difference generally implies positive terms between which
difference is set up; but in language there are only differences without positive terms. Whether
we take the signified or the signifier, language has neither ideas nor sounds that existed before
the linguistic system, but only conceptual and phonic differences that have issued from the
system. The idea or phonic substance that a sign contains is of less importance than the other
signs that surround it. Proof of this is the fact that the value of a term may be modified without
either its meaning or its sound being affected, solely because a neighboring term has been
modified. 82
It was this concept of a linguistic system which formed the foundation of

Saussure's definition oflanguage. "Language is a system of interdependent
terms in which the value of each term results solely from the simultaneous
presence of the others ..."83
4. Saussure's definition of langue as a system of differential values
established the object of linguistics as an autonomous entity and allowed
Saussure to posit synchronic linguistics as an independent discipline. This
manner of defining language, however, diverged so widely from the
traditional definitions of language that it seemed to eliminate much of the
existing linguistic knowledge from the sphere of linguistics. But Saussure
was in this respect far less radical: traditional historical and comparative
linguistics was to remain largely unaffected. Its object, however, was not
the self-contained system of signs, or langue, but parole, actual individual
acts of speech.
Speech ... is an individual act of will and intellect. Within the act, we should distinguish
between: (1) the combinations by which the speaker uses the language code for expressing
his own thought; and (2) the psychophysical mechanism that allows him to exteriorize these
combinations. 84
In other words, when Saussure turned his attention to the history of

language he returned to the established definition of language which had
been adopted by the Neogrammarians and most of their followers.
It is common to assert that the difference between langue and parole is
the difference between the social and the individual points of view. While
it is true that the Cours emphasizes this aspect of the difference between
the two objects oflinguistic study, claiming that langue is a social institution
while parole is the individual use of language, it seems to me that this
distinction is secondary to the central difference between langue as an
autonomous abstract system of values and parole as the psychophysical
232 Chapter VII
activity which needs to be described with reference to external, non-

linguistic features. The secondary character of the social/individual
dichotomy in Saussure's idea system is reflected in the fact that as late as
the second cours (1908-1909) Saussure still saw langue as an individual
attribute (the system which resides in individual minds and has only a
psychic reality) and parole as a social event (since it involves interaction
among individuals). 85 Despite this inversion of attributes, both the concept
of langue and that of parole are clearly present in Saussure's discussion,
suggesting that what prompted the distinction between langue and parole
was not the distinction between the social and the individual, but some
other problem. As I have attempted to demonstrate, this problem involved
the redefinition of the object oflinguistics in such a manner as to establish
its autonomy while at the same time preserving the accomplishments of
historical and comparative linguistics and the traditional manner in which
research in these areas was conducted.
Even this exceedingly brief overview of the conceptual framework of
Saussure's synchronic linguistics demonstrates the centrality and salience
of the problem of the autonomy oflinguistics for Saussure. In his definition
of a linguistic sign which abstracts from both the acoustic and the
referential characteristics of language, in his emphasis on the radical
understanding of arbitrariness, and in his definition of a linguistic system
as a structure of mutually determining but individually undefinable values,
Saussure stripped language of all external, non-linguistic references, and
constructed a system of synchronic linguistics which could rely neither on
psychology, nor on physiology, nor on any other non-linguistic discipline.
It was this concern with autonomy which motivated Saussure's formulation
of the langue/parole dichotomy and the adoption of langue as the true object
of synchronic investigations. Although there were no internal tensions,
contradictions, or quasi-logical problems to necessitate a change in the
traditional definition oflanguage once synchronic interests became central,
Saussure's constructivist and relativistic philosophical ideas made the new
definition possible and philosophically acceptable, while his interest in
asserting the identity of linguistics as an independent and self-contained
discipline directed the selection of the new definition. It remains a puzzle,
however, why the autonomy of synchronic linguistics was such an
important issue for Saussure. In light of the institutional implications of this
insistence on cognitive autonomy, we shall attempt in the following chapter
to locate a solution to this problem through an analysis of the institutional
factors involved in the development and the activities of the Geneva

School.
The examination of Saussure's idea system and its sources has
repeatedly brought out the complex interactions between continuities of
cognitive development and radical change. We have seen how, in an
attempt to cope both with internal difficulties and with changes in the more
general climate of opinion, Saussure resorted to radical philosophical
discontinuities and based his new philosophy of science on the assumption
that scientific facts and concepts are contructs shaped by the scientist, his
choice of a perspective, his interests and problematics. This change in
philosophical assumptions, which in itself was a discontinuous develop-
ment, had repercussions throughout Saussure's idea system. Not all of its
influence, however, was in the direction of greater discontinuity. We have
seen, for example, that the new philosophical assumptions allowed for the
elaboration of certain ideas leading towards the synchronyjdiachrony
dichotomy. Although absent from the Neogrammarian framework, this
distinction was implied in some of their theoretical and methodological
notions, and in this sense its formulation relied on both continuity and
discontinuity of development.
Ultimately, Saussure's synchronic, structural linguistics was a radically
new development, but we should not let its novelty obscure the many
significant continuities between the Neogrammarians and Saussure. In
many respects, Saussure's innovations constituted answers to
Neogrammarian difficulties and elaborations of ideas which had previously
only been implicit or seemed insignificant. Even the most radical of
Saussure's innovations, his constructivist philosophy, emerged at least in
part from fundamental problems within Neogrammarian linguistics.
Despite its discontinuous character, this approach permitted Saussure to
retain a substantial segment of the Neogrammarian idea system, namely
their theory and methodology of historical linguistics. It is the task of the
following chapter to search for at least tentative answers to the question
of why, in the midst ofa revolutionary reorientation oflinguistics, Saussure
and his students insisted on such continuities.
CHAPTER VIII
SCHOOLS ON THE PERIPHERY
Saussure's formulation of the study of synchronic linguistics completely

redirected the substantive interests of linguists. It also brought about
profound changes of a philosophical, theoretical, and methodological
nature. Saussure introduced a new relativistic and "constructivist" notion
of a linguistic fact. He redefined language, making it an appropriate object
for a strictly linguistic synchronic study. He suggested a new form of
structural explanation of linguistic states that was neither causal nor
historical. Saussure's revolution was wide-ranging and radical, affecting
major aspects of the idea system of linguistics.
At the same time, Saussure's linguistics preserved a degree of continuity
with the historical linguistics of the late nineteenth century. In some ways,
synchronic linguistics was a natural, almost a logical, extension of ideas
contained in the Neogrammarian doctrine. Saussure's beliefs about alter-
nations, analogical formations, and the grammatical organization of
language were elaborations of Neogrammarian beliefs and served as
sources for the idea of synchrony; his philosophical innovations, though
radical, can be understood as one possible response to the conflicts and
tensions of the Neogrammarian doctrine and, more generally, of the
positivist philosophy of science. In addition to these indirect links between
the idea system of the Neogrammarians and Saussure, there was an
extensive area of immediate agreement: Saussure's principles of historical
linguistics, as they were presented in the Cours, closely reflected the view
of his Neogrammarian teachers in Leipzig. Like the Neogrammarians,
Saussure emphasized the role of phonetic changes in linguistic theory and
accepted the principle of the exceptionless character of sound laws.
Phonetic change affects not words but sounds. What is transformed is a phoneme. This event,
though isolated like other diachronic events, results in the identical alteration of all words
containing the same phoneme. It is in this sense that phonetic changes are absolutely regular.!
The belief that sound changes are purely phonetic - and therefore
independent of all semantic, syntactic, or morphological determinations -
234
Schools on the Periphery 235
goes back to the Neogrammarians who, like Saussure, used it together with
the principle of "same cause/same effect" as an argument in favor of
Ausnahmslosigkeit. Moreover, like the Neogrammarians, Saussure regarded
analogy as a complement to phonetic transformations, a tendency respon-
sible for regularizing changes in the history of language: "Fortunately,
analogy counterbalances the effect of phonetic changes. To analogy are due
all normal, nonphonetic modifications of the external side of words.,,2
Saussure's acceptance of the major elements of the Neogrammarian
theory of linguistic change was also reflected in his retention of the
traditional psychophysical definition of language insofar as historical and
comparative studies were concerned. Although his definition of langue, the
object of synchronic linguistics, was different from nineteenth-century
conceptions, his definition of parole as an "individual act of will and
intellect" and "a psychophysical mechanism" was largely a repetition of the
definitions of language used by historical linguists in the Neogrammarian
era. 3 Investigations of langue rather than parole could never fully reveal the
actual sources of change since "everything diachronic in language is
diachronic only by virtue of speaking. It is in speaking that the germ of all
change is to be found."4 Historical studies of language change had to
include investigations of parole and of its mechanisms. Thus, the
langue/parole dichotomy developed by Saussure can be explained not only
as a result of theoretical considerations of the nature oflanguage, but also
as a means of preserving the validity and legitimacy of traditional studies
oflinguistic change, and of the methods and concepts used in such studies.
The unswerving insistence of Saussure and his disciples on the strict
separation of synchronic and diachronic perspectives (which was later a
source of conflict between the Geneva School and the Prague Linguistic
Circle) might also have its ultimate source in the attempt of the Geneva
scholars to retain the nineteenth- century theory of linguistic change. 5
An examination of the character of Saussure's linguistic revolution
reveals not only the expected discontinuities, but also two types of cognitive
continuity: first, many of Saussure's innovations can be explained as
responses to the tensions and difficulties of the dominant idea system in
late nineteenth- century linguistics; and secondly, there were extensive
areas of the Neogrammarian doctrine which Saussure's revolution did not
affect and which he accepted in virtually intact form.
Were there social or institutional reasons for this combination of radical
discontinuities and the conservative preservation of accepted ideas and
practices? Why, in the midst of a dramatic reorientation of linguistics and
236 Chapter VIII
its interests, did Saussure and his students impose limits on their own
revolution? What was the role of the cognitive continuities between
Saussure's idea system and that of his predecessors, and what factors
determined the character of these continuities? Answers to some of these
questions might also suggest explanations of the direction and extent of the
cognitive divergence which Saussure's Cours introduced into the history of
linguistic thought.
Our examination of the cognitive divergence introduced by Saussure
demonstrated the extent to which his innovations were constrained by the
Neogrammarian idea system. It did not, however, offer any explanations
for Saussure's submission to these constraints. In order to do so, it is
necessary to turn to an examination of the institutional settings in which
Saussure and his students were working.
If the identification of the Neogrammarians with Leipzig (and with the
German university system in general) presents no difficulties, it is
impossible to place Saussure in any single institutional setting. Saussure's
institutional affiliations span three countries and three distinct academic
systems, as well as three different modes of institutionalization of
linguistics. As a young Swiss student, Saussure never participated fully in
the activities of the Leipzig circle of linguists, although he studied under
a number of leading Neogrammarians. Even before he left Germany for
France, Saussure published articles in the Memoires de la Societe de
Linguistique de Paris; his Memoire sur Ie sysMme primitif de voyelles dans les
langues indo- europeennes was written in French, though published in
Leipzig.
For a decade (1880-1891) Saussure worked and taught in Paris. He
substituted, as a maitre de conferences, for the Nestor of French linguists,
Michel Breal, at the Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, and was active in
the Societe de Linguistique, where in 1882 he assumed the post of
"secretaire adjoint," and for which he edited the Memoires. Saussure had
a number of students at the Ecole Pratique, many of whom later became
well-known scholars. But despite his own strong identification with the
Ecole Pratique and his students' frequent - and occasionally effusive -
acknowledgement of their debt, the French linguists taught by Saussure
(such as Antoine Meillet, M. Grammont, and Paul Passy) did not follow
closely the precepts of synchronic linguistics as Saussure presented them
in the Cours. They greeted warmly the publication of the Cours, as the
reviews ofMeillet, Grammont, and Vendryes testify, but they also criticized
it, and, emphasizing the social character of language, they remained

selective in their adoption of Saussure's ideas. 6
From 1891 until his death in 1913, Saussure taught in his native city of
Geneva. His lectures on general linguistics, which were to become famous
through the publication of the Cours, were delivered at the University of
Geneva late in his professional career, between 1906 and 1911. However,
there are indications (discussed by Robert Godel in his Sources
manuscrites) that the basic outlines of Saussure's theory were developed
long before they were actually presented in his lectures. 7 Some of his ideas
may date from his stay in France, and many appear to have been
formulated as early as 1894.
It was Saussure's Geneva disciples, Charles Bally and Albert Sechehaye,
who collected the notes, then edited and published the Cours de linguistique
generale. Both these editors taught in Geneva and took it upon themselves
to respond to Saussure's critics and elaborate his ideas. While defending
their interpretation of the Cours against criticism and supposed misunder-
standings (those of Jespersen, Benveniste, Pichon, and Wartburg, among
others), they also taught a second generation of Geneva linguists: Robert
Godel, Henri Frei, Andre Burger, and others who later carried on the
exegetic traditions of the Geneva School and pursued their own research
under the strong influence of the Cours. In 1940, on the initiative of Serge
Karcevski, another of Saussure's students, they organized the Societe
Ferdinand de Saussure. 8 According to Sechehaye, the expression "Geneva
School" was first used as early as 1908, when Saussure was presented with
a volume of Melanges dedicated to him by his students. 9 Wider recognition
of the Geneva School, however, dates from the twenties and thirties and
is closely connected with the publication of the Cours and with the
discussions and debates which it provoked.
Despite these close links between the members of the Geneva School
and Saussure, and despite Saussure's own strong identification with
Geneva, it is insufficient to regard Geneva as the only - or even the
dominant - association of Saussure, or as uniquely responsible for the
character of his revolution. Though Saussure found his most faithful
followers in Geneva, both Leipzig and Paris influenced the idea system
expounded in the Cours. It is therefore necessary to separate the questions
concerning the origin of Saussure's ideas from those concerning their
adoption and dissemination by the Geneva School. In order to examine
first the problem of origins, we must consider the various institutional
settings in which Saussure worked.
238 Chapter VIII
Saussure as a Marginal Man?
The idea that innovation can be a function of its proponents' social or

cultural marginality has a long history in sociology. First suggested by
Georg Simmel in his essay on "The Stranger" and restated by Robert Park
in his 1928 article on "Human Migration and the Marginal Man," it was
examined by Park's student, Everett V. Stonequist, in The Marginal Man. 10
Underlying the connection between marginality and creativity is the notion
that persons who are less integrated into a given cultural framework have
the ability to examine the norms and ideas of that framework with a greater
degree of detachment than the insiders, and therefore they are better able
to break through the traditional and sanctified modes of thinking. This
ability to transcend the confines of a given mode of thought is aided further
by the marginal man's capacity to combine ideas stemming from different
cultural worlds.
More recently, the idea that social and cultural marginality might
influence the ability to innovate has been applied to science by Michael
Mulkay, who argues that revolutionary, paradigmatic changes in science
are often accomplished by scientists on the margins of a given field, or those
combining expertise in several research areas. 11 Alternatively, marginality
in science may be social and institutional rather than purely cognitive.
Thus, a scholar who is isolated or even alienated from the elite in a given
field may be more inclined to question the basic assumptions of his
discipline or to turn his attention to problems which have not been
addressed systematically. 12
On the first, superficial examination, it is difficult to consider Saussure
a marginal man. After all, he did study in Leipzig at the time when it was
the undisputed centre of comparative and historical linguistics; and Paris
in the 1880s, though far less central in linguistics than Leipzig, can hardly
be considered a scientific backwater. Moreover, even if the reception of
Saussure's Memoire was somewhat less than enthusiastic and his contri-
bution was not fully understood, the Memoire did earn him respect as an
original or even brilliant linguist.13 As a twenty-one-year-old student,
Saussure was already recognized by the Neogrammarian elite as an
authority in his field. Marginality, however, is the result not of a lack of
contact with the dominant culture, but rather of incomplete contact, of
encounter without full integration. As Saussure himself reported, this was
his situation in Leipzig:
If I frequented seldom, even much too seldom, the university classrooms, which I have had
cause to regret many times since, I was also not sufficiently linked to the cafe-going or
non-going circles which gathered customarily around the young academic chiefs of the Leipzig
school oflinguistics. This is also something I regret, but which was altogether natural in view
of my position as a French-speaking foreigner and moreover as a 19-year-old student who
could not penetrate into the company of doctors ... 14
Almost thirty years after his studies in Leipzig, Saussure still remembered
his peripheral status as a francophone Swiss and a young student in
Leipzig. This sense of marginality, and the price to be paid for it, must have
been further reinforced by the fact that Saussure's apparent priority in the
discovery of vocalic nasals in proto-Indo-European remained unrecogn-
ized. While still a high-school student at the Gymnase de Geneve
(between 1873 and 1875), Saussure, who was studying Sanskrit and com-
parative grammar on his own, was led to the conclusion that vocalic n must
have been a feature of the Indo-European phonological system. He did not
attempt to make his discovery public because he believed it to be a fact
already well-known. Only upon his arrival in Leipzig, after what he
considered a wasted year at the University of Geneva, where there was no
one to teach linguistics, did Saussure find out that the discovery he had
made several years earlier had only recently been repeated by Brugmann.
It was considered very important and was creating immense excitement
among linguists in Leipzig. While asserting repeatedly that he could not
possibly claim priority, Saussure seems never to have forgotten the chance
he missed because of his late contact with German linguists. His discovery
of the vocalic nasal and his relations with Brugmann occupy a central role
in the fragments of his "Souvenirs," where the sense of a missed
opportunity is combined with Saussure's assertions of complete intellectual
independence:
By a unique chance, in 1876 I arrived several weeks too late, though I would not dream of
being angry about it; but by the time I was writing in 1878, it was too late to recover a priority
not claimed in the first instance. One should note well that I do not claim it now, except to
affirm that intellectually - and this is of no interest to the public - I did not have to depend
on anyone for the vocalic nasal. 15
Twice more on the same page Saussure asserts his originality and his
independence from the Neogrammarians. Despite the public acknowledge-
ment in the Memoire of his debt to Brugmann and Osthoff for vocalic nasals
240 Chapter VIII
and liquids, Saussure claims that "As for myself, 1 have always considered
my Memoire to be composed of two equally original parts ... " And he repeats
this claim of intellectual independence with respect to the principle of
analogy: "I am afraid that 1 cannot consider the methodological principle
of analogy as a revelation of the Leipzig school as far as I am concerned."
Saussure's marginal position in Leipzig - his personal isolation from the
Neogrammarians and the suppressed priority conflict over the discovery
of the nasalis sonans - are reflected in his ambivalence toward the Leipzig
school. On the one hand, Saussure accepted many of the Neogrammarian
principles of historical and comparative studies of language, yet on the
other, he claimed personal intellectual independence.
Saussure's innovations bear the signs of his early ambivalence toward
his Leipzig teachers: while retaining many of their theoretical and
methodological principles for historical linguistics, he strove for indepen-
dence both by turning the focus of linguistics to the new substantive area
of synchronic studies of language states and by affirming the autonomy of
linguistics as a discipline distinct from psychology and philology, two fields
with which linguistics was closely associated in Germany on both cognitive
and institutional grounds.
Linguistics on tbe Peripbery
Saussure's personal ambivalence toward the German science of language

finds expression also on a more general level as a problem facing all
non-German groups of linguists around the turn of the century. The
unparalleled development of German linguistic research throughout the
nineteenth century meant that linguistics in other countries remained under
the strong influence of Germany. An excursion to one or another of the
German universities to study comparative grammar and historical
linguistics was a typical part of the education oflinguists of all nationalities.
Among those who went to complete their linguistic studies in Germany
were Americans such as William Dwight Whitney, Poles such as Jan
Baudouin de Courtenay, Danes such as Karl Verner, and Frenchmen such
as Ernest Renan, Michel Breal, and Gaston Paris.
The influence and prestige of German scholarship extended beyond
linguistics and philology into other academic disciplines, and was especially
strong in France. According to Claude Digeon, the French defeat in the
Franco-Prussian war was often explained by French intellectuals as a sign

of the inferiority of French education and science in comparison with the
German system. During the decade of the 1870s, a number of French
students were given scholarships to travel to German universities for the
purpose of studying the latest advances in their disciplines, and to observe
the system of higher education in Germany. There were also repeated
recommendations that the reform of the French system of education
proceed on the German model.
Digeon reports that this attitude of uncritical admiration changed in the
mid-1880s and 90s.
Before the war, going across the Rhine in order to enroll in a course of university studies was
often a proof of a certain spiritual independence and sometimes a demonstration of disdain
for French universities. This changed after 1870 because the state and the official organs
favored these study trips and sent students for training in one of the German universities. A
new era of franco-germanic relations can thus be characterized: after the defeat and because
of it, the young Frenchmen no longer resigned themselves to admiring everything in Germany.
Curiously, one discovers more criticisms in the reports of travels in 1880-1890 than in the
earlier ones. 16
The reports of French scholars returning from Germany were critical of the
painstakingly detailed, but often minor and philosophically uninformed
research conducted by doctoral students and professors at German
universities. They noted the authoritarian power of professors over the
younger faculty and the poverty of the unsalaried Privatdozenten.
This more critical attitude towards Germany corresponded with the
revival of scholarship in France and the first signs of the crisis of learning
in Germany. Since the universities were the center of this crisis, the French
appreciation of Germany turned to other areas of German intellectual and
cultural activity.
Nevertheless, Germany still enjoyed enormous intellectual prestige and after 1890 this
prestige grew; but now it was accorded less to the universities and more to individual geniuses
such as Wagner and Nietzsche, to the laboratories, and in politics, to the superiority of
German socialism over socialisms in other countries of Europe. For a student ofletters, history
or philosophy, the German universities had lost their halo: one could still admire them, but
when one entered them one no longer had the impression of entering a sanctuary.1 7
The change in the attitude of French linguists toward the German

comparative grammarians followed the general pattern of attitudes toward
242 Chapter VIII
German academia described by Digeon. The early unbounded admiration

of Renan for German philology slowly gave way to the more measured
reaction of Michel Breal. While Breal repeatedly referred to German
scholarship and traced the roots of comparative grammar to Bopp, whose
Comparative Grammar he translated into French, by the late 1860s Breal
was critical of Schleicher's theories of linguistic evolution. According to
Aarsleff, Breal anticipated some of the objections of Whitney and the
Neogrammarians. 18 Similar reservations about Schleicher were also
voiced by Gaston Paris in 1868. 19
The ambivalence of French linguists toward the German tradition can
be seen as more than a purely intellectual reaction. On the one hand,
French linguists acknowledged the undeniable dominance of German
philological scholarship, on which they depended in their own research and
which they used to justify the legitimacy of their own field to the French
educational authorities and the university public. 20 On the other hand, in
order to establish linguistics in France, they needed to assert their own
scientific authority and at least to some extent affirm their scholarly
independence of German academic linguistics. This was necessary if the
training of French linguists, the evaluation of their work, and the publi-
cation of research were to take place within French institutions. In effect,
the situation oflinguistics in France in the 1870s was similar to that facing
an emergent school of thought: the French linguists needed approval of
their work from the recognized (German) authorities, yet at the same time,
they needed to reject the necessity of such external legitimation. The
creation of indigenous institutional structures supplied the means through
which this conflict between the need for German legitimation and the desire
for independence could be alleviated.
In the 1870s comparative grammar began to gain a recognized place
within French academia. The Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, created
in 1868, played an especially prominent role in this process. Antoine
Meillet, who attributed the demise of French linguistics in the mid-
nineteenth century to its lack of institutionalization, credits the Ecole
Pratique with the establishment of an institutional setting for the pursuit
of linguistic research in France:
But since the middle of the 19th century, French oriental studies appeared to have been
dethroned. Indo-European linguistics, Germanic linguistics, Slavic linguistics, Celtic
linguistics which were being established elsewhere - especially in Germany - had no represen-
tatives in France, and it was a German, Diez, who has the honor of having created Romance
linguistics.
This is because science does not live on invention alone. From the moment of its formation,
nothing more can be usefully discovered except with the help of results which have already
been acquired, of the precise methods which prevent errors and useless wanderings of the
spirit. The French were able to create and discover once, but in order to continue they had
to organize research and education ...
The establishment of the Ecole des Hautes Etudes provided oriental studies and linguistics
with a means to develop and continue in France.21
It was in the historical and philological (fourth) section of the Ecole

Pratique that systematic advanced teaching of the various branches of
historical and comparative linguistics took place for the first time in
France. Students of Indo-European linguistics gathered in the Ecole to
study under experts in comparative grammar, Sanskrit, or classical
philologies, such as Michel Breal, Abel Bergaigne, Gaston Paris, Arsene
and James Darmesteter, or Louis Havet. Specialized lectures and seminars
were offered and students were given help with their own research.
While the Ecole Pratique allowed for the institutionalization of the
teaching oflinguistics, the creation of the Societe de Linguistique provided
a setting for the presentation and discussion of research. The Societe also
sponsored the publication of the first French journals devoted exclusively
to linguistics. The appearance of the Bulletin de fa Societe de Linguistique
de Paris and then of the Memoires, the first volume of which appeared in
1868, provided French linguists with specialized periodicals in which their
original work could be published. The initial impulse for the creation of the
association came from amateurs, but professional linguists quickly
assumed control over its activities. Many of the activists of the Societe de
Linguistique also taught at the Ecole Pratique. For almost fifty years,
Michel Breal served as secretary of the Societe (in 1915 he was replaced
by Antoine Meillet), which counted among its members practically all
French linguists, as well as a number of foreigners. 22
The institutionalization of linguistics in France through the creation of
permanent and independent structures such as the Ecole Pratique and the
Societe de Linguistique diminished, but did not eliminate, the dominance
of German over French linguistics. Although the organization of advanced
teaching at the Ecole Pratique meant that young students of historical and
comparative linguistics no longer had to travel to Germany, and although
the existence of French linguistic periodicals provided an opportunity for
the independent evaluation and legitimation of linguistic research in
France, the intellectual dominance of German over French scholarship
244 Chapter VIII
could not be overcome quickly. The sheer quantity and breadth of German
publications, together with the accumulation of compendia, dictionaries,
and histories of the various Indo-European languages, meant that French
linguists had to continue relying on the past and present contributions of
their German colleagues. As long as French linguists continued to focus
their studies exclusively on the comparative and historical topics favored
by their German counterparts, the growing institutional autonomy could
not easily be transformed into intellectual independence. Given the
development of linguistic studies in Germany, the authority of the French
elite remained local, and their international prestige depended on the
recognition of the German authorities in the field.
The peripheral location of French linguistics favored a more distant
attitude towards the accepted doctrine, while the new institutions offered
opportunities for rapid development. This meant that towards the end of
the nineteenth century, French linguists were in a position to develop
linguistics in France along original lines. Since German dominance in
comparative and historical research somewhat constrained opportunities
in these areas in which German scholars had excelled, the ability of French
linguists to establish their own intellectual autonomy was rather limited as
long as they remained interested primarily in the same historical and
comparative topics as the Neogrammarians. A strategy that involved
changes in the substantive orientation of linguistics had a greater chance
of leading successfully to the establishment of a new elite. Rather than
challenging German authority directly and bringing about a direct confron-
tation with the Neogrammarians, a change in the focus of linguistic
research, or a shift towards subjects which had been neglected by the
Germans, would permit the French scholars to establish their separate
identity and authority. Breal followed such a path when he turned his
attention to semantics, an area entirely neglected in Germany. In a much
more radical sense, this was also the strategy of Saussure when he
proposed to shift the focus of linguistics to synchronic problems of
linguistic structure.
When Saussure came to France, the opportunities afforded by the new
institutional arrangements were already apparent: the teaching of com-
parative grammar and of the history of various Indo-European languages
was entering its second decade, and the Societe de Linguistique was firmly
established as a professional organization of linguists. Shortly after his
arrival, Saussure found himself in the center of French linguistics. As a
teacher in the Ecole Pratique and a joint secretary of the Societe de
Linguistique, he was in a position to exercise a strong influence on the

future development of the science oflanguage in France. As a recent arrival
from Germany, where his Memoire found recognition but not much com-
prehension, Saussure was also directly affected by the constraints imposed
by German scholarship. The relatively peripheral and still quite open
character of French linguistics was made apparent in Saussure's sudden
move from a relatively marginal position in Germany to the central role
which he could play both institutionally and intellectually in France. At the
Ecole Pratique, Saussure at first taught what he had learned in Leipzig
(Gothic and Old High German); but the freedom of the Ecole, where there
was no specific program of study, no set course topics, and many
opportunities to teach advanced students and specialized courses,
encouraged innovative research.
During his stay in Paris, Saussure taught an entire new generation of
French linguists, and according to all reports, the influence of his teaching
was enormous. Almost all the French linguists from Meillet and Duvau to
Vendryes, Grammont, and Benveniste traced their intellectual genealogy
to Saussure and Breal. "All the students at the Ecole des Hautes Etudes,
all the members of the Societe de Linguistique are directly or indirectly in
the lineage of Breal and of F. de Saussure.'>23 In his obituary of Saussure,
Gauthiot reaffirms this influence and goes so far as to argue that Saussure
founded a faithful school of thought in Paris.z 4
Thus, the institutional conditions under which Saussure worked and
taught in Paris suggest one possible explanation of the general thrust of his
innovations and of the limits which he imposed on these innovations.
Saussure's proposed shift in the substantive focus of linguistic research
from historical to synchronic problems can be understood as an attempt
to establish the partial intellectual autonomy and the independent
authority of French, and later of Swiss, linguistics. Such a new substantive
orientation could free the discipline from the overwhelming dominance of
German scholars and institutions without simultaneously involving
Saussure and his students in a direct and inherently unequal competition
with the German elite. At the same time, the retention of the basic elements
of the Neogrammarian idea system can be seen as a means of assuring
continuous contact with this elite and of preserving the established criteria
and means of evaluation. Historical and comparative research could con-
tinue to bring the recognition and legitimacy proffered by the Neo-
grammarian authorities. Reputations established with the help of the
Neogrammarians - even the reputation of Saussure himself, which was
246 Chapter VIII
based after all on the Memoire considered by many to be a Neogrammarian

work - did not need to be questioned, revised, or rejected.
This striving for the intellectual autonomy of linguistics, and Saussure's
apparent interest in establishing his independence of the Neogrammarians,
were also translated into the demand that linguistics become an auto-
nomous discipline. The attempt to separate linguistics from philology,
psychology, and physiology constitutes one of the central features of
Saussure's idea system. The very definition of language proposed by
Saussure was constructed in such a manner as to insure that the object of
synchronic studies in linguistics would be distinct from the objects of other
sciences. Language was to be examined by linguists as a system of mutually
defining signs; that is, this system was the subject of linguistics insofar as
it could be abstracted from the psychological and physiological characteris-
tics of individual speech and from the individual determinations of literary
works. This attempt to make language a phenomenon sui generis and to
establish linguistics as an independent discipline ran directly counter to the
Neogrammarian argument that linguistics could not be separated from
philology and that the theory of language use and development could be
elaborated only with the direct help of psychology and physiology. As we
have seen, the Neogrammarian views on this subject, and the subsequent
merger of linguistics with philology advocated by the neo-Idealists, were
dictated by the opportunities offered German linguists by the institutionali-
zation of the field within the growing number of philological disciplines in
Germany. There, the integration oflinguistics with philology promoted the
greater academic expansion of linguistics and assured the
Neogrammarians a broader sphere of intellectual influence. In the case of
the Idealists, it was also supported by the reaction against specialization
in the social and cultural sciences in the early decades of the twentieth
century.
In France, where linguistics was marginal for a longer period of time and
where the centralization of the system of higher education and research
encouraged the development of groups of specialized researchers led by a
centrally located and influential patron, a new field such as linguistics had
perhaps greater chances of success if it could be pursued by a relatively
well-defined cluster of researchers directed by an institutionally and
intellectually dominant leader.2s His function was to train younger
scholars, evaluate and legitimize their research, and perhaps just as
importantly, to represent the field in the larger academic community.
Michel Breal was for many years just such an undisputed leader of French
linguistics. In the 1880s he delegated some of his authority to Saussure, and

after Saussure's departure, Breal was replaced by Meillet. The patron's role
as the representative of the field to the outside was especially crucial since
it helped determine the future development of the field and shape the career
patterns of the younger members of the cluster: their appointments to
respected and well-located lycees, and then to provincial and Parisian
university chairs, depended in no small measure on the ability of the patron
to place his proteges in advantageous positions. In the 1870s and 1880s,
when there were still few academic positions for linguists and when career
opportunities were still rather limited, the definition of the field as an
independent area of research could provide an emergent cluster with a
specific identity, increase the external authority of the cluster leader, and
consolidate his and his cluster's legitimacy. Thus the desire to establish
linguistics as an autonomous and intellectually self-sufficient field can be
seen not only as a response to the more dispersed claims to authority made
by the German elite, but also as a result of the pressures exerted by the
formal and informal organization of higher education in France. The
establishment of sociology as a discipline within French universities by
Durkheim and his disciples also involved an attempt to establish the
uniqueness and independence of society as an object of study; and this
seems to lend additional support to this interpretation. Durkheim's
insistence that society constituted an object sui generis is directly compar-
able to Saussure's belief that language should be studied in a specifically
linguistic manner.
In summary, it appears that Saussure's innovations were encouraged not
only by his marginal position in Germany but also by the opportunities and
constraints exerted by the organization of the French academic system and
by the position of linguistics within it. To this, it might be objected that
Saussure did not develop his ideas, or at the very least that he did not
present them, while teaching at the Ecole Pratique, and that it was not in
France but in Geneva that his innovations found acceptance. Although
there is indirect evidence that Saussure developed some of his ideas in
France - Meillet claimed that he could have deduced many of the principles
formulated in the Cours de linguistique generale from having attended
Saussure's lectures at the Ecole Pratique26 - it is undeniably the case that
Saussure found his most devoted followers in Geneva and not in Paris, and
that only in Geneva did a school professing a strict adherence to Saussure's
idea system come into existence. However, given the unusual posthumous
publication of the Cours, discussion of the origins of Saussure's thought
248 Chapter VIII
must be kept distinct from the examination of the reception and dissemi-
nation of his work. It is possible that while the impulse for Saussure's
innovations stemmed at least in part from the institutional situation of
linguistics in France, the manner in which his ideas were disseminated and
served as the basis for the formulation of a school of thought can be
understood only by examining the position of linguistics in Geneva. The
French linguists adopted Saussure's innovations only selectively, and con-
tinued to conduct much of their research within the framework of historical
and comparative linguistics, while Saussure's Geneva disciples turned all
their attention to synchronic studies ~ language and to the dissemination
of Saussure's idea system; this suggests that in order to understand the
reception of Saussure's innovations and the emergence of a school of
thought based on these innovations, it might be helpful to compare the
situations of linguistics in Paris and Geneva.
In the 1880s it was the University of Leipzig and other German univer-
sities such as Berlin which housed the intellectual elite in linguistics, rather
than the French institutions; but the French academic system had already
by this time accepted comparative and historical linguistics as legitimate
fields of study. Such institutions as the Ecole Pratique and the Societe de
Linguistique provided settings in which linguistics could be taught and
linguistic research could be presented, discussed, and published. In other
words, when Saussure taught in Paris, linguistics was already fully insti-
tutionalized in France; this was not the case in Geneva.
When Saussure assumed the new chair of the history and comparison
ofIndo-European languages at the University of Geneva in 1891, he was
for all practical purposes the first full-fledged professional linguist ever to
teach there. Linguistics had been taught in Geneva since 1869, first by
Hermann Krauss, a lecturer in Germanic languages, and then after 1873
by Joseph Wertheimer, a professor of linguistics and philology. Neither of
them, however, trained future linguists or did any significant research in
linguistics. (Godel reports that during his entire academic career
Wertheimer published one brochure in linguistics which was based almost
entirely on Breal's De lafonne etfonction des mots.?? Needless to say, there
were no linguistic journals published in Geneva, nor was there any asso-
ciation comparable to the Societe de Linguistique. Not only did Geneva
lack linguistic traditions and institutions, but as one of only two franco-
phone universities in Switzerland, it did not really form part of any larger
academic system. Despite informal links with both French and German
universities, Geneva was isolated and periphera1. 28
In the introduction I argued that the creation of a school of thought can

be understood as an attempt by a group of scholars to establish indepen-
dent means and criteria for the legitimation of scientific work in a given
research area. As we have seen, such a quest for authority might be the
result of various institutional and intellectual situations. The creation of the
Geneva School by Saussure's students and disciples offers a particularly
good example of a school forming in a situation in which the absence of
independent institutional means oflegitimation prompted a group of rather
peripherially located scholars to establish a school of thought by claiming
special competence and authority in a new substantive area of study.
The existence of permanent institutional structures which were not
preempted by a powerful elite allowed French linguists such as Meillet and
Vendryes to assume central institutional and intellectual roles without the
need to create an identifiable school of thought. Institutions such as the
Ecole Pratique and the Societe de Linguistique provided French linguists
with a disciplinary identity and at least with local authority to evaluate
research, to direct the instruction and the research of students, and to
influence professional appointments and the granting of degrees. This
institutional autonomy meant that there was no pressing need to establish
an informal school of thought united by its opposition to the dominant
Neogrammarian doctrine and to its German representatives.
In Geneva there were no such institutional structures, and given the
organizational isolation of the university, there were no opportunities to
establish institutional independence. The Geneva linguists could have little
influence on the publication of linguistic research, on the careers of their
students, or on the standards used to evaluate research.2 9 In other words,
while the establishment of a local national elite was unproblematic in
France, in Geneva such purely local authority would have meant very little
indeed. Scholars such as Bally and Sechehaye had constantly to appeal to
the larger linguistic community. However, the formation of a school of
thought devoted to research in a new area offered opportunities for the
more general recognition of specialized Genevan authority in their
particular area of expertise. Without challenging the authority of the
Neogrammarians and their heirs, such a school of thought could informally
establish its own international identity and authority. Thus, while the
peripheral location of Geneva encouraged innovation to a greater degree
than in France, the lack of institutional opportunities for linguistics in
Geneva created pressures for the establishment of a school of thought as
an (initially) informal elite attempting to create new research interests and
250 Chapter VIII
to disseminate the revolutionary idea system of an already recognized

scholar who made his first contributions to linguistics in a traditionally
accepted manner.
Over the years, the significance of Saussure's Memoire was more widely
recognized, and by the time of his death in 1913 he was considered a leading
figure in linguistics. Saussure's reputation seems to have been increasing
in spite of the lack of new publications during his Geneva period. It is thus
not surprising that the attitude of his Geneva disciples toward his ideas was
different from the relationship between Saussure and his French students.
While the French linguists were perhaps subtly affected by Saussure's
mode of thinking, the members of the Geneva School considered it their
duty to present his views on general linguistics to the wider scientific public
and to elaborate them in their own research. Although both Bally and
Sechehaye received their doctoral degrees in Germany (Bally in 1889 in
Berlin, and Sechehaye in 1902 in Gottingen), soon after coming into
contact with Saussure they turned all their attention to synchronic studies
oflanguage. Both Sechehaye's research on grammar and syntax and Bally's
work in stylistics, which he understood as the study of the expressive
characteristics of langue, adhered quite strictly to the precepts of the Cours:
the separation of synchrony and diachrony, the dichotomies of langue and
parole, signifiant and signifie, etc. By presenting the work of a recognized
scholar, elaborating it and defending it against numerous critics, they took
advantage of their privileged access to their "master's" thought and
repeatedly relied on the authority and reputation of their teacher. Such a
claim to special insight into the thought of an authoritative figure increased
the prestige and authority of the new school. At the same time as they
promoted Saussure's innovations, the members of the Geneva School were
also intent on retaining the limits which Saussure had imposed on these
innovations. Thus, the Geneva school was particularly insistent on the
maintenance of the distinction between synchronic and diachronic linguis-
tics. In this respect the Geneva scholars were not only preserving the ideas
of their teacher, but also implicitly reaffirming the legitimacy of more
traditional linguistic contributions. The members of the Geneva School
repeatedly referred and deferred to Saussure, and they attempted to cir-
cumscribe the scope of their own and their teacher's innovations; these
facts suggest that in their attempt to gain authority, they were also
concerned with maintaining their legitimacy within the linguistic com-
munity at large. Innovations probably encounter less resistance if they are
proposed by endorsed scholars with acknowledged reputations, and if they
can be presented as compatible with at least a part of the previously

dominant idea system. Such an appeal for legitimation by the existing elite,
combined with a claim for independent authority in a specifically delineated
area, might indeed be necessary for a peripherally located school of
thought. After all, the development of the Geneva School depended not
only on its ability to train new followers in Geneva, but also on the wider
acceptance of Saussure's idea system.
During the first decades of the twentieth century, new schools of
linguistics formed not only in Geneva but also in other "linguistically"
peripheral locations such as Prague, Petersburg, and Copenhagen. It
appears that in all of these instances, the peripheral location of the school
encouraged innovation and reflected various attempts to establish
linguistic elites independent of the German establishment. This process of
emancipating linguistics from nineteenth-century German Sprachwissen-
schaft involved more and more radical departures from the historical and
comparative traditions founded by Bopp and the later generations of
comparative philologists. The formation of the Geneva School was only the
first step in this process of cognitive and institutional restructuring. An
examination of the cognitive dynamics, the determinants of continuities
and discontinuities in the history of structural linguistics, and the insti-
tutional settings in which these processes occurred, would, however, take
us beyond the scope of this study.
CHAPTER IX
CONCLUSIONS
The manner in which scientists respond to the discovery of empirical

anomalies has been at the center of philosophical controversies about the
process of scientific development. Popper's logic of scientific discovery,
based on the methodology of falsification, requires that the search for
anomalies, for discrepancies between observational statements and
theoretical predictions, constitute the primary goal of scientific research
and the linchpin of scientific methodology. Once an anomaly is discovered,
he argues, a theory needs to be modified or replaced by a new one able to
cope with the anomalous phenomenon in addition to all the phenomena
explained by the old theory. This model of scientific development rests on
the assumption that there are invariable ahistorical criteria of rationality
which assure the orderly cumulative growth of scientific knowledge.
The challenge to Popperian philosophy came from those historians and
philosophers of science who observed that historical evidence does not
support the contention that the discovery of empirical anomalies leads
inevitably, or even quickly, to theoretical changes in science. Problems
which cannot be explained by existing theoretical models are sometimes
put aside or ignored, or even defined as non-problems. T.S. Kuhn and
others have shown that various scientific theories "swimming in a sea of
anomalies" have been upheld for decades or even centuries. I Moreover,
what constitutes an anomaly is rarely clear to scientists working within a
given theoretical tradition. In Progress and Its Problems, Larry Laudan
argues that a problem which a theory cannot successfully resolve begins to
be defined as an anomaly only after an alternative theory has been able to
explain it, in which case it may then be used as disconfirming evidence. 2
Some followers of Popper (for example, Imre Lakatos) have also claimed
that falsification can take place only in the presence of alternative theoreti-
cal explanations.
Even the most radical critics of the Popperian mode of scientific develop-
ment have, however, failed to suggest any substitutes for anomalies as
sources of scientific change. Kuhn's model of change in science posits
radical discontinuities that separate successive scientific paradigms and
result in a lack of commensurability among theories belonging to different
252
Conclusions 253
paradigmatic traditions. According to Kuhn, it is impossible to compare

the explanatory power of theories which do not rely on the same implicit
or explicit philosophical assumptions, do not share standards of
evaluation, and do not employ the same concepts, formalisms and
exemplars. And yet, Kuhn still argues that it is the accumulation of
anomalies which produces the periodic crises in science. He has not been
able to specify at what point an accumulation of anomalies becomes a crisis
odious enough to necessitate the overthrow of the ruling paradigm, but
neither has he suggested that factors other than anomalies be considered
responsible for change. As a result, Kuhn has often been accused of
positing irrational epistemic shifts in scientific opinion. 3
The tenacity of the positivist view of science, according to which the
confrontation between empirical data and its theoretical representation
and explanation constitutes the distinguishing feature of science, is
surprising among those who deny the existence of theoretically uninformed
empirical facts and who reject the empiricist model of scientific
methodology. It is, however, this belief in the primordial role of empirical
observations in all scientific pursuits that causes historians and philoso-
phers of science to treat empirical anomalies as unique sources of scientific
transformations. Even those who stress the role of various philosophical
assumptions in the pursuit of scientific knowledge ignore the role of these
assumptions as sources of scientific change and imply that the only tensions
and conflicts that produce scientific difficulties are those arising out of
disagreements between theoretical predictions and empirical data.
Underlying the belief that either single or compounded anomalies
produce crises in science is the uncontroversial assumption that the
striving for integration and internal consistency constitutes one of the goals
in articulating scientific idea systems, and that consistency is an important
criterion in scientific evaluations. If, however, we take seriously the notion
that scientific idea systems include not only empirical observational state-
ments, but also philosophical assumptions about the nature of science and
its objects, as well as methodological beliefs about the appropriateness of
various means of investigation together with theories designed to explain
the phenomena, then we must also ask whether mutual interdependence
and consistency among these ideas is guaranteed automatically, and if not,
whether the discovery of tensions and contradictions among the non-
empirical elements of a scientific doctrine might not serve as powerful
impulses for readjustments and innovations.
254 Chapter IX
Although the various elements of an idea system constrain one another

in a variety of ways, the mutual interdependence of philosophical, theoreti-
cal, methodological, and substantive ideas is never total. Such instances of
incomplete mutual constraint abound in the history of linguistics. For
example, the early comparative grammarians' philosophical belief that
language was an organism which suffered historical decay and degener-
ation encouraged the search for the original perfect language and imposed
constraints on the formulation of the theory of linguistic development by
requiring that any such theory account for the perfect morphological regu-
larity and completeness of proto-Indo-European. However, this influence
of philosophy on theory was not fully determinant, and even though
Schlegel and Bopp agreed that the original language was organic, fully
grammatically developed, and absolutely regular, and even though they
also agreed that throughout its history language suffered degeneration, they
nevertheless developed two incompatible theories oflinguistic growth: one
based on the idea of internal flection and the other on the notion of
agglutination. Similarly, the Neogrammarians formulated two distinct and
incompatible explanations of phonetic change, basing them both on the
same set of philosophical ideas about language and science. The compati-
bility of two mutually incompatible theories with the same set of philoso-
phical beliefs demonstrates that such beliefs shape - but do not determine
- theoretical explanations. Moreover, this loose interdependence is sym-
metrical: not only can two contradictory theories be based on the same set
of philosophical beliefs, but different philosophical systems can support a
single theory. We have seen, for example, that Schleicher inherited most
aspects of his theory of language development from the early comparative
grammarians, yet was able to integrate them into his new evolutionary and
Hegelian philosophy.
Theoretical and philosophical ideas are not the only elements of
scientific doctrines which constrain one another without being fully
mutually determinant. Similar relations obtain between philosophy and
methodology, substantive interests and theoretical explanations, etc. To
cite only one example, the comparative methodology of the early
nineteenth-century linguists seemed especially well suited to the search for
the organic, uncorrupted forms posited by Romantically inspired theories
oflinguistic development. In some of its basic outlines, this method was still
used by the Neogrammarians, who rejected the goal of reconstructing the
original language and denied the existence of any essential qualitative
differences between prehistorical and historical languages. However, as the
Conclusions 255
belief in the free variability of linguistic forms was replaced by a more

deterministic view of linguistic development (which was now seen to be
regular and law-governed), new constraints and demands were placed on
the inherited methodology. Even as Schleicher formulated it, the
comparative method was required to yield explanations valid generally for
whole classes of regularly developing forms and sounds. The new philoso-
phy of science imposed new constraints on the old methodology which had
originated in a quite different philosophical framework, yet it did so without
undermining the basic validity and fecundity of this methodology. Such
interplay between constraint and compatibility among the various elements
of scientific idea systems is characteristic of their internal organization and
engenders their development.
Lacking full integration and all-inclusive coherence, scientific doctrines
do not constitute completely articulated deductive systems of ideas, but
open structures of beliefs whose coherence and integration are always
threatened. At the same time, various elements of idea systems do
constrain one another and are expected to form coherent frameworks of
ideas.
The openness of scientific idea systems and the complexity of their
organization mean that full consistency and coherence remain an ideal
rather than a reality. Any belief might prove to have consequences incom-
patible with other strongly-held beliefs. Inconsistencies might be hidden
among implicitly accepted philosophical assumptions, or they might
emerge in the process of articulating new theoretical explanations.
Methodological practices might require the adoption of assumptions that
are philosophically unacceptable; and theories might rely on concepts
which could be deemed philosophically illegitimate. Anomalies constitute
only one example of the inconsistencies which trouble scientific idea
systems, but given the complex relations among the other elements of such
systems - be they theoretical, philosophical, substantive, or methodologi-
cal - there is no reason to expect that such inconsistencies between data
and theory will constitute the only conflicts, or even the most troublesome
ones.
Although such anomalies as unexplained exceptions to sound laws or
seemingly irregular grammatical formations did stimulate linguistic interest
and led to attempts to resolve them, the history oflinguistics suggests that
these empirical difficulites were by no means responsible for larger, more
sweeping changes in the idea system. The most famous instance of the
resolution of an apparent anomaly came in 1875, when Karl Verner
256 Chapter IX
explained the most important class of exceptions to Grimm's law. After fifty
years of unsuccessful attempts, the solution of this problem required only
a small modification of the law describing consonant shift. Generally
speaking, however, in the face of an apparent anomaly, linguists were more
likely to introduce caveats into their explanations than to treat anomalies
as disconfirming instances or as reasons to reject a theory. Moreover, the
formulation and acceptance of the Neogrammarian doctrine illustrates a
situation in which the introduction of more stringent methodological
criteria significantly increased the number of known anomalies: the belief
that true sound laws have no exceptions was, as the Neogrammarians
readily agreed, completely unsupported by the existing empirical evidence
and could be seen as converting a large number of unexplained but
admissible "exceptions" into true anomalies. As many critics of the
Nt: :>grammarians pointed out, the exceptionless character of sound laws
was an empirically untenable proposition. What was far more important,
however, was that this new methodological and theoretical principle
resolved certain bothersome philosophical problems and integrated
linguistic methodology with such basic philosophical assumptions as the
principle of "same cause/same effect."
If, in linguistics, empirical anomalies were not treated as sufficient
reasons for theoretical and methodological transformations, other kinds of
conflicts and tensions did lead to dramatic changes of idea systems. These
more profound rearrangements occurred when linguists attempted to
tighten the internal integration of their doctrine by seeking to eliminate
tensions or contradictions among the various philosophical beliefs,
between theoretical explanations and methodological practices, between
philosophy and theory or methodology, etc. Such problems within the idea
system could assume different forms, ranging from a mere lack of inte-
gration between two beliefs or sets of beliefs to direct logical inconsis-
tencies; and like other elements of science, internal conflicts and tensions
have their own history. Occasionally, what began as a lack of integration
among the elements of the idea system (as in the case of the regularity of
sound laws in the methodology of comparative grammarians, or their
theory oflinguistic decay) eventually became a major inconsistency and a
source of serious tension. The early methodology of sound change was only
loosely associated with the theory of the decay of the original Indo-
European language; but as linguistic methodology began to rely to a greater
extent on the assumption that sound changes could be subsumed under
universal sound laws, this methodology became more and more difficult to
Conclusions 257
reconcile with the theoretical requirement that the original language which
linguists were striving to reconstruct had suffered no degenerative changes.
The methodology based on the assumption of regular sound change was
also in conflict with the theory of agglutination, according to which the
original linguistic forms were composed of uniquely significant parts that
regularly expressed both meaning and relation without any morpho-
phonemic variation. These conflicts between theory and methodology
spread to other cognitive areas. Thus, the substantive interest in recon-
structing the original language was difficult to reconcile with a methodology
based on the idea of law-like phonetic changes and analogical processes;
while philosophical beliefs about scientific laws, which were supposed to
be general and universally valid, clashed with the assumption of a prehis-
torical language that was perfect and unaffected by phonetic decay or
analogical reorganization. The emergence of the Neogrammarian school
was, in part, a response to these increasingly unavoidable and profound
tensions within the idea system of comparative grammar. While
maintaining the methodology of Schleicher and Curtius, as well as their
substantive interests, the Neogrammarians attempted to develop a new
linguistic theory compatible with this methodology and with the philoso-
phical trends prevalent in the second half of the nineteenth century.
The avowed aim of the Neogrammarians was to reintegrate linguistic
theory with the successful methodology of their predecessors, and to make
this theory compatible with the dominant philosophical beliefs of their
time, but they could not avoid introducing new tensions and contradictions
into their own idea system. To begin with, the Neogrammarian philosophy
of science was plagued with internal inconsistencies. On the one hand, the
Neogrammarians argued that science must search for full causal explan-
ations of historical events, while on the other hand, they rejected any form
of abstraction as illegitimate philosophical procedure and maintained that
only the full and concrete representation offacts could yield the knowledge
of causal connections. Other tensions were created by the Neo-
grammarians' theoretical reliance on psychology, which was supposed to
provide explanations of the individual use oflanguage and the mechanisms
of its change, and their methodological reliance on sound laws, which were
supposed to act without exception on entire linguistic communities at a
given time and place. The philosophical principle of "same cause/same
effect" led them to postulate exceptionless sound laws, but their
individualism and the psychologistic tendencies of their theory, the
prohibition against abstraction, and the impossibility of formulating
258 Chapter IX
criteria of linguistic identity on the basis of their philosophy of language,

all resulted in tensions between their postulated theoretical goals and their
actual theoretical and methodological practice.
The internal problems of the Neogrammarian doctrine stimulated a
number of attempts to reconstruct the idea system of linguistics by
integrating its various elements and eliminating some of its inconsistencies
and contradictions. The Neo-Idealists, the Kazan school of Baudouin and
Kruszewski, and the French linguists, as well as Saussure and his disciples,
were all to a large extent responding to these tensions and difficulties within
the Neogrammarian idea system. Denying the possibility of historical laws,
the Neo-Idealists tried to return to concrete causal explanations of unique
historical events. By the same token, they attempted to eliminate the
philosophical problem inherent in the Neogrammarian belief that science
must postulate general laws governing entire classes of phenomena, but
that it must do so without recourse to abstraction and without abandoning
the goal of providing complete explanations of unique events. Kruszewski
and Baudouin were also troubled by the Neogrammarian problems with
linguistic laws, causality, and historical explanation; and they attempted to
specify more clearly what was meant by the identity of linguistic events
taking place in different historical environments, which were nevertheless
considered subject to the same laws unlimited in time and space. As we
have seen, the problem oflinguistic identity which lay at the center of many
Neogrammarian difficulties and resulted in philosophical, theoretical, and
methodological inconsistencies, was also crucial for Saussure. His attempt
to resolve this problem involved certain radical philosophical changes,
including the relativization and conventionalization of linguistic facts, yet
it also allowed him to maintain the Neogrammarian methodology and
theory of linguistic change, although these were now to be legitimized in
a new manner by a different philosophy of science, and were supplemented
by a new branch of the science of language: structural, synchronic
linguistics. The transition to synchronic linguistics represented a shift in the
substantive orientation of linguistics and was also in part the result of a
conflict within the Neogrammarian idea system between (a) the theory
relying on psychological explanations of the mechanisms of the use and
organization of language, and (b) the exclusively historical substantive
interests of the Neogrammarians. Their inability to formulate an adequate
theory of grammar with full explanations of analogy and alternations bears
witness to this tension between their implicitly synchronic theoretical
framework and their historical substantive orientation.
Conclusions 259
This historical account oflinguistic thought has illustrated how problems

- contradictions and tensions - among the elements of idea systems served
as sources of innovations and led to the transformation of these systems.
Such conflicts emerged between the philosophical assumptions and the
theoretical, substantive, or methodological ideas, between the theories
designed to explain phenomena and the methodologies used to investigate
them, between substantive interests and theoretical constructs, and so on.
Tensions were generated by accepted, but often unexamined, philosophical
assumptions which linguists used to define their goals and objects and to
legitimize their methods (e.g., within the Neogrammarian version of
positivism). Contradictions emerged as a result of theoretical elaborations
(such as the attempts to elaborate the theory of analogy and sound change)
or as unexpected consequences of methodological development and
successes (such as the conflict between sound laws and agglutination
theory). On other occasions, such theoretical and methodological develop-
ments clashed with substantive constraints or acknowledged philosophical
limitations (e.g., post-Neogrammarian attempts to formulate a psychologi-
cal theory of grammar which would explain linguistic change).
Although conflicts among the elements of an idea system seem to consti-
tute common sources of the more radical innovations, there are situations
in which significant shifts are prompted by other problems within an idea
system. For example, it appears that new developments can proceed from
the discovery of serious theoretical or substantive incompleteness. The fact
that psychological explanations of analogy did not adequately account (by
Neogrammarian standards) for any single instance of analogical formation,
or that alternations were methodologically important but theoretically
unexplained, led to various attempts to modify the Neogrammarian
doctrine (including those of Baudouin, Kruszewski, and Meillet). Still, this
type of theoretical incompleteness in linguistics went hand in hand with
serious contradictions, and only then was it considered important enough
to generate radical revisions of the idea system.
The discovery of internal tensions was not only a result of internal
linguistic development. As members of scholarly communities and partici-
pants in the wider cultural environment, linguists were affected by develop-
ments in other academic disciplines and by shifts in the climate of intellec-
tual opinion. The conflicts between the early comparative grammariahs'
theories and their methodology became visible when Romantic philosophy,
and later the Hegelianism and evolutionism of Schleicher, were replaced
by the positivist philosophy of science and the psychologism of the cultural
260 Chapter IX
and historical sciences in the late decades of the nineteenth century. The
difficulties inherent in the application of this positivist philosophy to the
discovery of the causal laws governing historical change became more
problematic for linguists from the time positivism was attacked by the
neo-Kantians and Idealists (Dilthey, Windelband, Croce, etc.). The incon-
sistencies plaguing Neogrammarian attempts to specify classes of identical
linguistic facts all subject to the same laws emerged clearly only when the
empiricist notion of a fact and of its relationship to scientific concepts
became an acute philosophical problem (in the system of Mach and
Duhem, and in the sociologies of Durkheim and Weber, for example).
External intellectual trends affected not only the discoveries of tensions
and contradictions, but also their solutions. The interpenetration of the
successive philosophical systems and linguistic idea systems is apparent in
all linguistic thought. Romanticism was instrumental in the comparative
grammarians' definition of language as an organism; it influenced their
formulation of the goal of linguistics as the recovery of the undecayed
original language; it guided much of their methodology, which was designed
to bare the original kernel in variously disfigured forms; and it informed
their theories of flection and of the original linguistic structure and
development. Similarly, the influence of positivist thought, common among
German social scientists after the 1850s, led the Neogrammarians to define
language as a psychophysical activity, to believe that the goal of linguistics
was the formulation of universal laws, to maintain that the method of
linguistics must rely on the assumption of uniformitarianism and on the
principle of "same cause/same effect," and to postulate that linguistic
theory must give an account of historical change on the basis of
psychological and physiological laws. The role played by Croce's
philosophy of history and by the anti-positivist reaction in Germany in the
articulation of Neo-Idealist linguistics was openly acknowledged by the
school members and evident in all aspects of their idea system.
Although broad philosophical trends and developments in neighboring
disciplines playa central role in the formulation of new idea systems, the
innovations introduced into these systems are not simple reflections of new
philosophical orthodoxies. If, as we have argued, discontinuities result
from attempts to eliminate bothersome tensions and contradictions from
accepted doctrines, then the new idea systems must inevitably carryon
some of the traditions of the doctrines they are designed to replace. The
very fact that innovations are designed to resolve difficulties encountered
within the old framework of ideas guarantees a certain degree, no matter
Conclusions 261
how limited, of cognitive continuity. Without at least minimal continuity,

it would be impossible even to decide whether or not the new idea system
belongs to the same domain of knowledge. But cognitive continuity usually
appears to be more extensive.
The resolution of tensions among certain elements of an idea system can
involve the various kinds of discontinuities. In their attempt to eliminate
the inconsistencies between Schleicher's philosophy and theory on the one
hand, and his methodology on the other, the Neogrammarians were guided
by a new philosophy of science and a new conception of language. These
new philosophical ideas introduced discontinuous elements into linguistic
doctrine and served as a framework for new theories of linguistic
development. Nevertheless, the substantive interests of the
Neogrammarians overlapped with the interests of their predecessors: no
longer interested in the reconstruction of the original language, they
remained intent on reconstructing the oldest attestable forms and in tracing
their historical development. They were also interested in preserving the
methodology of Schleicher and Curtius (this being also the methodology
of Karl Verner and Adolf Grassmann), which had proven successful in
resolving some of the most difficult problems of the history of sounds. As
a result, the Neogrammarian theory involved both continuous and discon-
tinuous elements, and was an attempt to integrate the old and the new
elements oflinguistics. Such interpay between continuity and discontinuity
was also present in the idea system of the Neo-Idealists. In the midst of
radical philosophical, theoretical, and methodological transformation, the
Idealists maintained some Neogrammarian ideas: they agreed with their
predecessors that linguistics should aim to formulate causal explanations
of linguistic change; they shared the Neogrammarian aversion to
abstraction; and despite their own new definition oflanguage, they retained
the N eogrammarian identification of language with individual speech.
Most importantly, perhaps, their problematics emerged from their analysis
of the difficulties within the Neogrammarians' philosophy and theory, and
this very fact guaranteed a degree of substantive continuity: linguistic
changes were to be explained by Idealist linguistics just as they were to be
explained by the Neogrammarian theory. The Idealist explanations were
new and profoundly discontinuous; their problems were old and shared
with other linguists of the time.
Continuities appear even when substantive interests undergo changes.
On the most obvious level, Saussure's revolution introduced a new
synchronic problematics into linguistics. As we have seen, however,
262 Chapter IX
synchronic problems were implicit in much of the Neogrammarian theory

of language use, in some of their philosophical beliefs, and in certain
aspects of their methodology. The psychological orientation of their theory
of language, and especially of the theory of analogy, presupposed that
language formed an organized system of representations in the human
mind. Their methodological reliance on alternations implicitly involved
examinations of language states, and the principle of uniformitarianism
encouraged synchronic interests. What stood in the way of all these
developments was the troubled Neogrammarian philosophy of science,
which demanded causal explanations, prohibited abstraction (and thus
engendered the problem of the identity of facts), and insisted on the
formulation of general historical laws. The problems of positivism were not
specific to the Neogrammarians or even to linguistics, and Saussure's
attempt to resolve them, by adopting a constructivist and relativistic con-
ception of facts and more varied ways of explaining phenomena, was
guided both by internal linguistic problems and by philosophical changes
taking place elsewhere. Thus, even Saussure's philosophical revolution,
dramatic though it was, was not a result of random discontinuity but a
response to specific problems within the dominant linguistic doctrine and
within the philosophy of the social sciences. Moreover, the philosophical
discontinuity exemplified in the transition from Neogrammarian to
structuralist idea systems removed some of the obstacles standing in the
way of the development of synchronic studies of language which had been
implicit in much of the Neogrammarian doctrine but blocked by their
philosophical convictions. This means that even the discontinuities
introduced by Saussure, and especially the shift of substantive interests to
which his idea system gave the initial impulse, were sugggested by problems
within the existing framework of ideas, and that the solutions to these
problems allowed for a degree of dynamic, but continuous, development.
More direct, but analytically less interesting continuities between Saussure
and the Neogrammarians were evident in Saussure's retention of much of
the Neogrammarian system of historical and comparative linguistics,
which he was able to integrate, albeit only partially, into his own linguistic
doctrine. The problems inherent in this partial integration were later taken
up by the Prague school and resulted in the next transformation of
European linguistics.
The openness of scientific idea systems, together with the lack of
ahistorical criteria of choice among various systems inherent in our model
of scientific development, might allow for the formulation of several alter-
Conclusions 263
native systems of ideas, each designed to resolve conflicts emerging within

the previously accepted doctrine. The Idealists and the early structuralists
were responding to the same problems inherent in the Neogrammarian
doctrine, yet their answers were diametrically opposed. Both shared
certain ideas with the Neogrammarians, but they differed in what each
retained and each rejected. This provides perhaps the clearest illustration
of the cognitive indeterminacy of continuity and discontinuity, but it also
demonstrates that discontinuities are not random and that the choices
made by linguists were affected by elements carried on from one idea
system to another.
The model of scientific change emerging from this analysis of the
cognitive development of linguistics does not allow for the formulation of
ahistorical criteria governing scientific change. The nature of the problems
- the tensions, inconsistencies, and incompletenesses - thought to beset
idea systems is too varied to allow for the formulation of such a
methodological standard. Both the discovery of conflicts within idea
systems and their resolutions depend on internal as well as external
developments. Problems can be thought to exist in or among the
philosophical, theoretical, methodological, or substantive elements of idea
systems, and their resolution can involve changes in one or several aspects
of these systems. Philosophical discontinuities can co-exist with methodol-
ogical, theoretical, or substantive continuities; theoretical or methodologi-
cal changes need not impinge on philosophical or substantive ideas; and
still other permutations are possible. It appears, however, that even in the
most profound revolutions, some things do not change and some continuity
persists. 4 Both this continuity and the fact that the conflicts which new idea
systems are designed to resolve are engendered by previous cognitive
systems serve as guarantors of rationality in the development of science,
even if this rationality and its standards are not permanent and do not allow
for ahistorical formulation. The dynamics of scientific development are too
complex to be described in a single rule or a universal standard, but this
does not mean that we should regard them as unfathomable epistemic
breaks governed by no rules and guided by no standards.
Continuities and discontinuities in the development of scientific
knowledge result not only from the cognitive dynamics governing the
changes ofidea systems but also from the social-institutional conditions in
which scientific research takes place. Here we review only how, in the case
of linguistics, this continuity was maintained or breached in university
linguistics, and how the formal and informal organization of communities
264 Chapter IX
of academic scholars limited discontinuous breaks, while in other

circumstances it encouraged scientists to innovate in a radical manner.
However, one must not forget that the institutionalization of science within
academia is a historical phenomenon, and that the social forces affecting
university science might differ from those affecting scientific practice in
other settings.
On the most fundamental level, the institutionalization of an area of
study at the university promotes its continuous development. The insti-
tutionalization of comparative and historical studies of language at
German universities provided this field with a permanence it lacked in
other, less formal or less comprehensively developed organizational
settings. In France and England, linguistic studies were pursued by a few
isolated and often amateur scholars, not anchored in institutions which
could provide opportunities for both teaching and research. In Germany,
on the other hand, the ideological compatibility between the newly
formulated idea system of comparative linguistics and the neo-humanist
philosophy of education, as well as actual reforms in the organization of
teaching and research at the universities, all combined to promote the rapid
inclusion of linguistics in the university curriculum and the institutionali-
zation of linguistics as a permanent field of study. The new university
assured the direct and continuous transmission of recent research to
younger scholars and provided for advanced apprenticeship in teaching
and research at the side of senior researchers. The continuous development
oflinguistics in Germany was also encouraged by the fact that research was
made a requirement for professional advancement at the university, and
that the university, by uniting teaching and research, provided for the
establishment of orderly career patterns for linguists. The fact that
university professors officially evaluated the first original contributions of
young scholars (their doctoral theses and H abilitationsschriften) contributed
to the continuity of accepted idea systems, and not just of the field of study
as such. Since these early contributions constituted prerequisites for
further professional advancement, the ability of younger scholars to
conform to accepted standards and criteria could be evaluated directly. In
order to be deemed legitimate contributions to comparative or historical
linguistics, these two early works had at least to conform to the basic
criteria for evaluating work in the field.
The evaluation and legitimation of research does not cease once a
scholar is admitted into the community of professionals. It is the function
of the scientific elite, of a group of scholars in which the rest of the
Conclusions 265
community has vested a particular authority, to evaluate the contributions

of others and to decide on their merits. The publication of a work in a
recognized, professionally edited and refereed journal constitutes a first
step on the road to full legitimation. The distribution of other relevant
resources (offunds, positions in the university, and access to students) is
also in part regulated by the established elite, which is thus formally and
informally given the opportunity to enforce continuity of development.
Since the elite's own authority is largely based on the contributions its
members have made to the field, they usually have some vested interest in
supporting continuity and maintaining the idea system within which their
work has been judged significant and legitimate.
The elite's overall interest in maintaining continuity can, however, be
modified in certain situations. A threat to the authority of the elite, or an
opportunity for the expansion of their own influence, can encourage the
elite to introduce certain discontinuities. Such factors as challenges to the
elite from other groups of scholars, changes in the position of the field
within the overall academic structure, changes in career opportunities for
the practitioners of the field, or problems of maintaining authority
resulting, for example, from the institutional fragmentation or the differen-
tiation of the field, or even from its institutional expansion, can all affect
the elite's ability to maintain the old standards and can encourage adaptive
and discontinuous modification of their idea system. Severe internal
problems in the idea system can also constrain members of the elite to
introduce discontinuous innovations, even if, on the whole, radical discon-
tinuities are discouraged. These are probably not the only factors
contributing to the elite's own attempt to revise radically their traditional
idea systems, but we have observed the effects of at least some of them in
the emergence of the Neogrammarian school of linguistic thought.
The expansion of philological studies in the 1860s and 70s provided an
increased opportunity for the expansion oflinguistics. Since historical and
comparative studies of language were institutionalized not as a separate
discipline, but as an area of research within various philological disciplines,
each new chair of philology could be occupied by a linguistic scholar, or
at least by a scholar trained in historical linguistics and comparative
grammar. But the growth of philology also presented dangers: it
encouraged specialization and the fragmentation of the field and
threatened the dispersal of its elite. The emergence of the Neogrammarian
school (whose members constituted the heirs of the established elite both
because of their privileged location in the institutional structure of
266 Chapter IX
linguistics in Germany and because of their early scholarly contributions)

can be interpreted as an attempt to capitalize on the new opportunities
offered by the overall academic expansion and as a means of reasserting
the authority of the elite over linguistic studies in a larger and more
diversified field. In order to accomplish this goal, the Neogrammarians
resorted to the introduction of certain discontinuous innnovations into the
inherited idea system: they modernized its philosophical and theoretical
foundations and made their theory of linguistic change applicable to all
languages at all stages of their historical development, thereby asserting the
relevance of the linguistic idea system for a broad range of philological
disciplines.
Along with these innovations, motivated both cognitively and insti-
tutionally, the Neogrammarians also introduced certain pseudo-
innovations which allowed them to maintain methodological and substan-
tive continuity while reinforcing their claim to special scientific authority.
The principle of exceptionless sound laws had little effect on the
methodological practice oflinguistics, but it allowed the Neogrammarians
to preserve the legitimacy of their contributions to the field, while at the
same time, interpreted as a strict methodological standard, it supported
their claim to elite status. By affirming their right to define the criteria used
to legitimize linguistic research, the Neogrammarians were attempting to
counter the threatened fragmentation of linguistics and the apparent
dispersal of the linguistic elite, while at the same time presenting
themselves as uniquely qualified to play the role of arbiters of the research
of others.
The Neogrammarian belief that historical and comparative linguistics
should remain a subfield of a number of philological disciplines rather than
becoming an independent discipline can also be interpreted as an attempt
to benefit from the expansion of academic opportunities for linguists while
maintaining unified standards, and thus also concentrated authority,
within all comparative and historical studies.
The analysis of the Neogrammarian revolution from above helps to
isolate the institutional factors which induce a scholarly elite to maintain
a fair degree of cognitive continuity. Even if this continuity masquerades
as innovation, it nevertheless serves to preserve the legitimacy of some
traditional contributions to the field, and thus also safeguards the elite's
claim to the right to define standards and pronounce authoritative scientific
judgments. At the same time, analysis of the Neogrammarian case suggests
that the elite (or their heirs apparent) might be constrained to introduce
Conclusions 267
certain cognitive discontinuities, and might proceed to do so by creating

a school of thought.
Schools of thought, however, do not originate only in the elite. The
institutional organization of science, together with the informal arrange-
ments within a scientific community, provide opportunities for other
scholars to challenge the authority structure of the field and to introduce
changes, even radical changes, into the idea system.
Schools of thought, as groups of scholars united in their opposition to
a dominant idea system, often define themselves in terms of cognitive
discontinuities. As they present an alternative scientific idea system and
create alternative means for the evaluation and legitimation of scientific
contributions, they also aim to undermine or bypass the authority of the
traditional elite. The character of these cognitive and social challenges
depends on a number of factors: the institutional situation of the field, the
location of the school within the institutional structure, external intellectual
trends, the status of school members, etc., all of which shape the
opportunities and constraints affecting the creation of a school.
The institutionalization of linguistic studies in Germany within the
various philological disciplines led to the perennial danger of the fragmen-
tation of linguistics, both in terms of its cognitive unity and in terms of its
authority structure. We have seen that the Neogrammarians, in an effort
to avert this danger while at the same time capitalizing on the opportunities
it presented, emphasized the general validity and applicability of their strict
methodological standards. Several decades later, the N eo-Idealists chose
a different strategy. Drawing strength from a general reaction against
specialization in academic disciplines, this group of relatively peripheral
scholars attempted to strengthen their own authority by denying all essen-
tial differences between linguistics and philology. The traditional linguistic
elite claimed special authority over all purely historical and comparative
linguistic studies, but regarded these studies as only a part of the various
philological investigations. The Neo-Idealist challenge involved a claim
which was both broader and more limited. It was broader since the Neo-
Idealists saw themselves as philologists and not just as linguists, and they
argued that all philological research should be based on their idea system.
It was more limited, since in their emphasis on the unique aspects of each
culture and language, they emphasized the specificity of every philological
discipline. By uniting linguistics with philology, the Neo-Idealists were
reacting to the particular mode of organization of linguistics in German
universities and to the critiques of specialization popular in the academic
268 Chapter IX
community early in the twentieth century; at the same time, their appeal
for unity and their challenge to the post-Neogrammarian elite exploited the
limits traditionally imposed on the authority oflinguists and constituted an
attempt to stake out a new range of competence for Idealist linguistics.
The fragmentation of linguistics among the various philologies was also
a problem (and an opportunity) for Saussure and his students. Unable as
they were, because of the limitations of their institutional resources, to
challenge or even question the linguistic research conducted in a number
of different philological areas, they opted to isolate linguistics from
philology and to treat it as an autonomous discipline with its own unique
problems, methodology, and theory. The structuralist plea for a separate
identity for linguistics, which was a central element of their cognitive
innovations, was also an attempt to define a limited area of competence
in which the Geneva School could claim unique scholarly authority. Neither
the shift of substantive interests of linguistics proposed by the Geneva
scholars, nor their arguments supporting the distinctiveness and autonomy
of linguistics, posed a direct challenge to the authority of the traditional
German elite. Instead, by proposing a new sphere of interests and arguing
for its independent status, Saussure and his disciples were bypassing the
authority of the German elite and separating their sphere of competence
from that of linguists in Germany.
Just as the manner in which a field is institutionalized provides oppor-
tunities for, and imposes limitations on, the ability of a new school to
challenge the elite, so the location of the school within the institutional
structure produces its own incentives and constraints. Our analysis of
schools in linguistics lends support to the old correlation between
marginality and a propensity to innovate. The example of the Geneva
School (and also the cases of the Kazan school, the Prague Linguistic
Circle, and the Copenhagen school, which we have not explored here)
seems to indicate that on the whole, the radical restructuring of nineteenth-
century historical linguistics took place at a certain distance from the
German centers of linguistic scholarship. There are two complementary
ways in which this association between peripheral location and innovation
might be explained. On the one hand, as the case of Saussure illustrates,
incomplete integration into the culturally dominant community might
encourage a critical examination of the dominant idea system and a striving
for independence. On the other hand, scholars in peripheral institutional
locations might be inclined to innovate in a radical fashion in order to
strengthen their bid for authority. Their distance from the elite means that
Conclusions 269
their work is often ignored, and the difficulty of joining the elite may
encourage the taking of greater cognitive risks. Peripherally located
scholars might have little to lose by rejecting the dominant idea system, and
much to gain should their attempt to reformulate the system prove attrac-
tive to other scholars. Moreover, the control exercised by the elite through
its evaluation and legitimation of others might simply be weaker in such
remote settings.
Even on the periphery, however, the freedom to innovate radically is
not complete, and it is probable that certain constraints on innovation
operate more strongly in peripheral locations than they do in close
proximity to the institutional center of the field. Scholars in such outlying
locations not only lack authority, but are also often short of other essential
resources: their access to students is usually more limited, as is their ability
to place their disciples in institutionally advantageous or strategic
positions. Opportunities to publish, and thus to make their innovations
known in the larger community, will also be generally less available to
scholars who are not part of the elite. All these problems constrain the
opportunities for innovation and result in increased dependence on the
existing elite. The relative lack of success of the Neo-Idealists reflected all
these problems resulting from a less than central location: Vossler's
students tended to teach in minor schools often without the status of a
university; there they had few students who themselves became
professional linguists. The Neo-Idealists also encountered problems in
publishing their own journals, and outside of Romance philology they failed
to find significant numbers of adherents to their doctrine.
These kinds of constraints were less ofa hindrance for schools of thought
emerging outside Germany. Their peripheral location was coupled with a
degree of institutional autonomy which the Idealists, located within the
German academic system, did not enjoy. The most innovative new schools
of thought in early twentieth-century linguistics were located in Swiss,
Russian, Czech, or Danish universities, and thus outside the direct
influence of the German linguistic elite.
Even in such situations of institutional autonomy, the ability to introduce
discontinuous innovations is limited informally. The authority of the elite
to evaluate and legitimize does not recognize institutional or national
boundaries, while appeals to the success of the field of research elsewhere
are often used as an argument for initiating similar research in new insti-
tutional settings. Thus, the success oflinguistic studies in Germany was a
common argument among French linguists attempting to establish
270 Chapter IX
linguistics as a fully legitimate area of research in their own institutions of

higher learning. The isolation of some new locations, such as Geneva,
imposed constraints which were not very different from those operating in
Germany. For many years, linguists of the Geneva School did not have
sufficient resources to publish their own journal, and their small numbers
necessitated continual appeals to the wider linguistic community. The
institutional isolation of Geneva meant that its linguists had to rely on
outside recognition of their work and could not attempt to separate them-
selves completely from the larger field. Thus, despite the profound discon-
tinuities in Saussure's revolution, his idea system preserved the legitimacy
of the traditional system of historical and comparative linguistics. This
allowed the Geneva School linguists to avoid direct confrontation with the
established elite, but it also served to maintain the validity of Saussure's
own early contributions to historical linguistics. The example of Geneva
suggests that substantive discontinuities can provide a convenient mode of
innovation for peripherally located schools of thought, since such discon-
tinuities avoid direct conflict and serve to limit the scope of the school's
bid for authority. But we should not assume that this is always the case,
nor that such marginal schools never introduce other discontinuities. The
correlation between schools of thought in various institutional locations
and particular kinds of discontinuity is mediated by a number of contextual
factors and cannot be seen as historically fixed for all fields of science.
In their bids for authority, linguistic schools of thought attempted to
increase the legitimacy of their claims in a variety of ways. The publication
of a separate journal was a common occurrence, although, as the example
of the Neo-Idealists illustrates, it was not always successful. From the
history of the few schools examined here, it is difficult to determine at what
point in the development of a school such a publishing venture becomes
feasible and useful; but there are indications that only when a school
acquires a rather large number of adherents does the publication of a
separate journal serve to underscore the authority of the school leaders,
instead of merely undermining their links with the larger disciplinary
community. Even the Neogrammarians did not establish a full-fledged
linguistic periodical until quite late in the history of the school: the first
issue of Indogermanische Forschungen appeared some 13 years after the
emergence of the school. Their earlier attempt, Morphologische Unter-
suchungen, was a peculiar kind of publication with only two contributors,
while Paul and Braune's Beitriige was limited to German philology. The
type of cognitive divergence promoted by the school, the access of school
Conclusions 271
members to other publications, and the general publishing situation in a

given field, all influence the school's attempts to establish its authority in
separate scholarly journals, and this is another subject which requires
further study.
In their quest for authority, schools of thought appeal with surprising
frequency to external legitimation of their innovations. The Neo-
grammarians repeatedly called on the authority of psychology and
physiology; the Neo-Idealists called upon philosophy and aesthetics; and
even the Geneva scholars, who insisted on the autonomy of linguistics,
occasionally attempted to demonstrate the compatibility of their inno-
vations with sociology and social psychology. Such appeals to neighboring
fields doubtless serve to strengthen the scientific legitimacy of the school's
idea system and to locate it within the overall system of the sciences; but
they also raise interesting questions about the changing hierarchy of
disciplines and its determinants.
I have argued throughout this study that the institutional situation of a
field, together with a school's location within the formal and informal
organization of the scientific community, provide incentives and~ oppor-
tunities for innovation while imposing limits and constraints on the extent
of permissible discontinuity. More specifically, I have tried to establish a
link between the actual character of certain continuities and discontinuities
and the social situations of their proponents. The examples of the
Neogrammarian principle of exceptionless sound laws, the Neo-Idealist
definition of language as art and their identification of linguistics with
philology, and Saussure's langue/parole dichotomy with its implied preser-
vation of traditional approaches to historical linguistic problems and its call
for the autonomy of synchronic linguistics, all appear as responses to the
exigencies of their proponents' institutional locations examined in terms of
the authority structure of the field or in terms of institutional opportunities
and constraints. All these beliefs, however, were integrated into the
broader idea system, and had their own cognitive justifications and deter-
minants . The existence of such cognitive justifications is often taken as a
sign that social explanations are no longer necessary and that the sociology
of knowledge should limit its investigations to "irrational" or "non-rational"
beliefs. This approach is based on the assumption that rational behavior
is self-explanatory, and that in any given cognitive situation there is only
one rational belief that follows inevitably and inescapably from a given set
of other well-grounded beliefs, so that any "socially uncontaminated"
person (if such a creature could possibly exist) would be obliged to accept
272 Chapter IX
it. I question the frequency with which scientists do in fact face such clear
choices, and I argue that most "rational" decisions made by scientists
represent only one among a variety of possible, equally "rational" solutions.
This is just another aspect of the openness (underdetermination) of
scientific systems of ideas; but if taken seriously it suggests the continual
interplay between various cognitive and social (institutional) con-
siderations in the historical development of science. Scientists make their
decisions and propose their ideas as members of scientific communities
and of their societies. These ideas and decisions are rooted in the idea
systems of their disciplines and the general cultural beliefs to which
scientists also subscribe, but they are also shaped by the scientists' social
situations, by their interactions with others, and by the opportunities and
limitations which the social and institutional world imposes.
NOTES AND REFERENCES
Chapter I
1. These beliefs underlie much recent work in sociology of science and are especially
prominent in the work of CoD ins, Pickering, Knorr, Mulkay, Barnes and Bloor. See Karin
D. Knorr-Cetina and Michael Mulkay, "Introduction: Emerging Principles in Social
Studies of Science" in Science Observed: Perspectives on the Social Study of Science, eds.
Karin D. Knorr-Cetina and Michael Mulkay (London: Sage, 1983).
2. Michael Mulkay, G.N. Gilbert, and S. Woolgar, "Problem Areas and Research Networks
in Science," Sociology, vol. 7 (1975), pp. 187-203.
3. Collins, for example, shows how negotiation over what constitutes an adequate
experiment structured research on gravitational waves. But even though he mentions that
these disagreements and negotiations were taking place within a broad area of consensus,
he does not discuss the role of this consensus in structuring the research and the
disagreements. (H.M. Collins, "The Replication of an Experiment in Physics," in Science
in Context: Readings in Sociology of Science, eds. Barry Barnes and David Edge (Milton
Keynes: Open University Press, 1982).
4. Richard Whitley, "The Establishment and Structure of the Sciences as Reputational
Organizations," in Scientific Establishments and Hierarchies, eds. Norbert Elias, Herminio
Martins and Richard Whitley. Sociology of the Sciences Yearbook VI (Dordrecht: Reidel,
1982), p. 330.
5. Gerald Geison, "Scientific Change, Emerging Specialties, and Research Schools," History
of Science, vol. 19 (1981), pp. 20-40.
6. According to Sorokin, "All the theories are divided into a few major schools, each one
being subdivided into its varieties, and each variety being represented by several of the
most typical works." Pitirim Sorokin, Contemporary Sociological Theories (New York:
Harper and Row, 1928), p.xx.
7. Pierre Duhem, The Aim and Structure ofPhysical Theory (New York: Atheneum, 1962), Part
I, Ch. IV.
8. Geison, p. 23.
9. J.B. Morrell, "The Chemist Breeders : The Research Schools of Liebig and Thomas
Thompson," Ambix, vol. 23 (1976), pp. 175-86. Robert Marc Friedman, "Constituting the
Polar Front, 1919-1920," Isis (1982), pp. 343-362.
10. David L. Krantz, "Schools and Systems: The Mutual Isolation of Operant and Non-
operant Psychology as a Case Study," Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences, vol.
7 (1971), p. 90.
II. Diana Crane, Invisible Colleges (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1969), pp. 87-88.
12. Crane, p. 87.
273
Notes and References 274
13. Karl Popper, Objective Knowledge (Oxford : Clarendon Press, 1972), p. 27.
14. Karl Popper, Conjectures and Refutations (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1963), p.
149.
15. Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1962); also The Essential Tension: Selected Studies in Scientific Tradition and Change
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977).
16. Michael Polanyi, "Theory of Potential Adsorption," Science, vol. 141 (1963),1010-13.
17. Crane, pp. 87-88.
18. Mary Hesse argues this point with regard to concepts in Chapter I of her The Structure
of Scientific Inference (London: 1974).
19. Edna Heidbredder, "Functionalism," in Schools ofPsychology: A Symposium, ed. David L.
Krantz (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1969), pp. 35-36.
20. Fritz K. Ringer, The Decline of the German Mandarins (Cambridge: Harvard Univ. Press,
1969), p. 308.
21. William Coleman, Biology in the XIXth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1977),
p. 151.
22. Andre Malraux, The Voices of Silence (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1978), p. 381.
23. Victor Erlich, "Russian Formalism," Journal of the History of Ideas, vol. 34 (1973), p. 627.
24. H.R. Niebuhr, "Sects," Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, 1967 ed. For a more extensive
comparison of schools and sects see F. Znaniecki, The Social Role ofthe Man ofKnowledge
(New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1940).
25. Malraux, p. 367.
26. Stanislaw Ossowski, Dziela, Vol. 4, 0 Nauce (Collected Works. On Science) (Warsaw:
P.W.N., 1967). Translations from Ossowski are my own.
27. Ossowski, p. 226.
28. Ossowski, p. 227.
29. D.O. Edge and M.J. Mulkay, Astronomy Transformed (New York and London: Wiley,
1976).
30. Donald A. MacKenzie Statistics in Britain. 1865-1930: The Social Construction of Scientific
Knowledge (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1981).
31. Jerzy Szacki, "Schools in Science," Polish Sociological Bulletin, vol. 1 (1976), p. 19.
32. Edward Shils, "Tradition, Ecology, and Institution in the History of Sociology ," Daedalus,
p. 763.
33. Michael Polanyi, Science. Faith and Society (Chicago,: University of Chicago Press, 1946),
p. 19.
34. Richard Whitley, The Intellectual and Social Organization of the Sciences (Oxford: Claren-
don Press, 1984).
35. John Ziman, Public Knowledge (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968), p. 133.
36. Ziman, p. Ill.
37. Krantz, p. 87.
38. Crane, p. 87.
39. This role of the academies is described in Joseph Ben- David, "Organization, Social
Control and Cognitive Change in Science," in Joseph Ben-David and T.N. Clark, eds.,
Culture and Its Creators (Chicago: Chicago Univ. Press, 1977), pp. 244-55 passim.
40. Martin Jay, The Dialectical Imagination (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1973), pp. 3-40.
41. Szacki, "Schools in Science," p. 19.

44. On marginality and innovation in science, see Michael Mulkay, The Social Process of
Innovation (London: Macmillan, 1972); Joseph Ben-David and Randall Collins, "Social
Factors in the Origins ofa New Science: The Case of Psychology," American Sociological
Review, vol. 31 (1966).
45. The advantages of a peripheral location might, especially in the case of "big science," be
outweighed by the disadvatanges of a lack of necessary equipment and resources.
46. Pierre Bourdieu, "The Specificity of the Scientific Field and the Social Conditions of the
Progress of Reason," Social Science Information vol. 14 (1975), p. 33.
47. On the autonomy of research institutes see, for example, Ben-David and Collins. "The
Social Factors ..." The autonomy of directors of research institutes can be compared with
the power of Parisian professors as patrons ; see T.N. Clark Prophets and Patrons: The
French University and the Emergence ofthe Social Sciences (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1973).
Chapter II
1. Otto Jespersen, Language (New York: Norton,1964), p. 33; Georges Mounin, Histoire de
la linguistique des origines au xx·me siecle (Paris: PDF, 1974), p. 161.
2. Quoted in Jespersen, p. 33.
3. S. Lefmann, Franz Bopp. sein Leben. seine Wissenschaft (Berlin: 1897), pp. 10*, 33*,37*.
4. On the development ofiinguistics in England and the obstacles which it encountered, see
Linda Dowling, "Victorian Oxford and the Science of Language," in PMLA , Vol. 97 No.
2 (March 1982), pp. 160-178.
5. See for example the list of Curtius' foreign students in Ernst Windisch, "Georg Curtius,"
Biographisches Jahrbuchfiir Altertumskunde, vol. 9 (1886), pp. 75-128; reprinted in Thomas
A. Sebeok, Portraits of Linguists (Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1966), vol. I, pp.
344-45.
6. Quoted in Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Random House, 1978), p. 98.
7. Thomas S. Kuhn, The Essential Tension (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1977), p. xii.
8. Friedrich von Schlegel, On the Language and Wisdom ofthe Indians (1808), in The Aesthetic
and Miscellaneous Works, trans. E.J. Millington (London: Bohn, 1849). p. 427.
9. Karl Mannheim, "Conservative Thought," in From Karl Mannheim, ed. Kurt Wolff (New
York: Oxford Dniv. Press, 1971), p. 147.
10. The question of the origins oflanguage was, of course, not a new one, and it was especially
salient during the latter half of the eighteenth century, when Jean-Jacques Rousseau and
G. Herder were among the many trying to find an answer to it. They were both transitional
figures , incorporating elements of the Enlightenment as well as Romanticism in their
thought. On the anti-Enlightenment views of Rousseau and especially Herder, see Isaiah
Berlin, Vico and Herder (New York : Random House, 1976, pp. 177-78), where ideas
similar to those I describe as Romantic are attributed to them both. The comparative
grammarians were much less interested in the question of the origin of language as a
human faculty than in the recovery and understanding of that stage of linguistic
development when languages achieved the greatest perfection. Both Grimm and Schlegel
276 Notes and References
believed, however, that the question of origin might be answered by means of comparative
grammar.
11. Jacob Grimm, Vo"eden zur deutschen Grammatik von 1819 und 1822, ed. Hugo Steger
(Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1968), p. 18.
12. Grimm, p. 19.
13. Franz Bopp, A Comparative Grammar of Sanskrit. Zend. Greek. Latin. Gothic. German and
Sclavonic Languages, vol. I (1833), trans. E.B. Eastwick (London: Williams and Norgate,
1862), p. v.
14. Franz Bopp, Vocalismus (Berlin: Nicolaische Buchhandlung, 1836), p. 1.
15. It is here that the differences beteween the Romantic conception of an organism and the
modern concept of structure (so often based on organic metaphors) become most
apparent. Our notions of organism differ from those of the Romantics, and therefore our
organic metaphors are based on different premises. For Schlegel and Bopp, a language
had an organic structure not because they saw a relationship between its elements, but
because they believed that all these elements and their unity were generated by the same
life-force. Their concept of an organism is much closer to that of the Naturphilosophen and
the vitalists than to that of the reductionist biologists of the mid-nineteenth century. And
it should not be forgotten that the designation of something as organic carried within it
an explicitly normative judgment: organic entities were harmonious, natural, and vital,
with no trace of accident, artifice, or external determination. See also William M. Norman,
The Neogrammarians and Comparative Linguistics, Ph.D. Diss. Princeton 1972 (Ann Arbor:
Univ. Microfilms International, 1975), p. 19.
16. Wilhelm Dilthey, "The Schleiermacher Biography,~ in Selected Writings, ed. H.P. Rickman
(Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1976), p. 61.
17. Johann Wolfgang Goethe, "Principes de Philosophie zoologique discutes en Mars 1830
au sein de I' Academie Royale de Sciences,~ in Naturwissenschaftlische Schriften, Werke, Vol.
VII (Weimar: Bohlau, 1890); quoted after Ernst Cassirer, The Problem ofKnowledge (New
Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1950), p. 140.
18. Fr. v. Schlegel, On the Language and Wisdom ... , p. 455.
19. Fr. v. Schlegel, On the Language and Wisdom ... , p. 449. One of the results of this approach
is that only organic languages can be said to have a history - they carry their own laws
of development in their internal forms, just like natural organisms. According to Schlegel,
mechanical languages have no possibility of development; they cannot change systemati-
cally for they possess no internal living forces. Change in such languages can be only
accidental and can never follow from the essence of the language. Conversely, organic
languages are stable and develop coherently; the principle of their internal organization
can be preserved.
20. August Wilhelm von Schlegel, Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature (1808). trans. John
Black (London: Bohn, 1848), p. 340.
21. Humboldt's classification included a fourth category of"incorporating~ languages, where
a single "word" expressed a subject, an object, a verb, etc.
22. Franz Bopp, Konjugationssystem der Sanskrit Sprache (Frankfurt am Main, 1816).
23. Franz Bopp, Konjugationssystem, p. 332.
24. "If we can draw any conclusions from the fact that roots are monosyllabic in Sanskrit and
its kindred languages, it is this, that such languages cannot display any great facility of
expressing grammatical modification by the change of their original materials, without the
help of foreign additions. We must expect that in this family oflanguages the principle of
compounding words will extend to the first rudiments of speech, as to the persons, tenses
of verbs, and cases of nouns, etc. That this really is the case, I hope I shall be enabled
to prove in this essay, in opposition to the opinion of a celebrated German author, who
believes that the grammatical forms of Sanskrit and of its kindred languages consist
merely of inflections, or inner modifications of words." Franz Bopp, "Analytical
Comparison of Sankrit, Greek, Latin and Teutonic Languages" in Annals of Oriental
Literature, 1820, p.l0.
25. Paul Kiparsky, "From Paleogrammarians to Neogrammarians," in Studies in the History
of Linguistics: Traditions and Paradigms, ed. Dell Hymes (Bloomington: Indiana Univ.
Press, 1974).
26. Kiparsky, p. 332.
27. Bopp, Konjugationssystem, p. 37.
28. Bopp did admit some "morphophonemic variation" by allowing for the operation of what
he called mechanical laws: he assigned weights to roots and suffixes depending on their
voweis in order to explain some variations in the vowel of the root syllable. Berthold
Delbriick, Introduction to the Study of Language( 1880), trans. Eva Channing (Amsterdam:
John Benjamins B.V., 1974).
29. Bopp, Vocalismus, p. 12.
30. Georg Curtius, Zur ErkHiIung der Personalendungen," in Studien zur griechischen und
lateinischen Grammatik, vol. 4 (1871), p. 213; quoted by Kiparsky, p. 333.
31. There have been attempts to portray Schleicher exclusively as a Hegelian (e.g., by John
Arbuckle in "Schleicher and the Linguistics/Philology Controversy," in Word, vol. 26
(1970), pp.17-31), and to deny that the natural sciences had any influence on his thOUght.
In view of his constant references to biology and his use of metaphors from the natural
sciences, it seems unjustifiable to view Schleicher simply as a follower of Hegel. The
influence of the evolutionary biological models should not, however, be interpreted as a
direct influence of Darwin. Schleicher admired Darwin's work and attempted to prove
that linguistic evidence of comparative grammar supports Darwin's theory (in Die
Darwinische Theorie und die SprachwissenschaJt, 1860. 2nd ed. 1873, Weimar: Bohlau), but
the essential aspects of his theory and his model of language predated Darwin.
32. Schleicher, Die Sprachen Europas in systematischer Ubersicht (Bonn: Konig, 1850).
33. (Bonn: Konig, 1848).
34. Schleicher, Die deutsche Sprache (Stuttgart: Gottaschen Verlag, 1860, 2nd. ed. 1869), p. 21.
35. Schleicher, Die deutsche Sprache, p. 33.
37. Bopp and his immediate followers did not attempt to reconstruct the actual or hypotheti-
cal proto-Indo-European roots or words. In their comparisons, they attempted to discern
the fullest existing form, to assign a meaning to it, and to trace the changes related words
had undergone in other Indo-European languages. It was Schleicher who first attempted
a full reconstruction of conjectured forms. But we can speak of reconstruction also in
reference to the earlier linguists, since to describe the origin of forms, they offered
conjectures about which elements of the existing forms were original. The goal, according
to Bopp, was to arrive at the oldest and purest form which would also be complete and
would reflect its provenance most transparently.
38. Mannheim, "Conservative Thought," pp. 147-48.
39. Many historians of linguistics suggest that the early comparative grammarians were
directly influenced by the work of the comparative anatomists, especially by Georges
Cuvier, who conducted his research at the same time that Bopp and Schlegel were
studying Sanskrit in Paris. Schlegel explicitly acknowledges the similarities between the
study of comparative anatomy and that of the inner structure of language: "There is,
however, one single point, the investigation of which ought to decide every doubt, and
elucidate every difficulty; the structure of the comparative grammar of the languages
furnishes as certain a key to their general analogy, as the study of comparative anatomy
has done to the loftiest branch of natural science" (Schlegel, On the Language, p. 439).
However, it seems to me that this reference to comparative anatomy cannot be taken as
proof of Cuvier's influence on Schlegel. Cuvier is best known for his principle of corre-
lation, according to which each part of an organism is intimately interrelated with all the
other parts in such a way that a knowledge of one part enables the researcher to deduce
the shape and form of all the other parts. Although both Bopp and Schlegel believed that
the principle underlying the grammar oflanguage shapes the appearance of each root, they
did not propose a functional correlation between forms and did not claim that a change
in one aspect oflanguage necessarily brings about changes in other aspects, which would
be required by Cuvier's principle. Moreover, Cuvier staunchly opposed any suggestion
that organisms undergo historical transformations, while this was the essence of
Schlegel's and Bopp's beliefs about language and their own methodology. Also, Cuvier
was predominantly concerned with the scientific classification of organisms; for Bopp and
Schlegel, this was a secondary problem. References to the natural sciences appear too
scattered to warrant the conjecture of a direct influence of anyone natural science on
comparative grammar. Bopp refers to his task as the "physics and physiology" oflanguage,
as a "rigorous and systematic process of comparison and anatomical investigation"
(Comparative Grammar, pp. XIII, VII). He sees a similarity between the "history and
natural description of language" and "natural history" (quoted in Hans Arens, Sprach-
wissenschafi, Munich: Alber, 1955, p. 198). Elsewhere he compares his method of analysis
to "anatomic dissection or chemical analysis" (Comparative Grammar, p. 124). Although
these multiple but vague references to various natural sciences do not testity to any direct
influence of physiology, anatomy, physics, or chemistry on comparative grammar, they
apparently reflect a need to claim for the new discipline the methodological rigor of the
natural sciences.
40. The importance of sound laws for the new "scientific" etymology is best exemplified by
the work of August Pott, who, as a student of Bopp, was mainly interested in developing
the etymological aspects of comparative grammar and was among the first comparative
grammarians to insist on the importance of phonetics and sound laws for the new science.
41. Schleicher, Die deutsche Sprache, p. 47. He had argued the same point already in 1850:
"Just as the progressive history of language can be recognized as a regular process of
becoming, so also in the decline oflanguage rules and laws are apparent" (Die Sprachen
Europas, p. 15).
42. Schleicher, Die darwinische Theorie, p. 7.
44. "Even in the earliest periods of a language, at a time when sounds were even more
steadfast, a power begins to take effect, working in opposition to the multiplicity of forms
in order to limit them more and more to the minimum necessary. This is the above-
mentioned differentiation ofless commonly used but justifiedly special forms into others,
especially those in frequent use which strongly influence linguistic feeling - in other words,
the process of analogy. The striving toward ease and uniformity, towards the handling of
the maximum number of words in a uniform manner, and the ever-declining feeling for
the significance and origins of special forms, all result in the fact that later languages
possess fewer grammatical forms than earlier ones, that the structure oflanguage in time
becomes more and more simple" (Schleicher, Die deutsche Sprache, p. 55).
45. Schleicher, Die Sprachen Europas, p. 19.
48. In the Compendium of the Comparative Grammar of the Indo-European. Sanskrit. Greek and
Latin Languages (London: Triibner, 1874), Schleicher repeatedly uses such turns of phrase
as "less regularly," "frequently," "by no means invariable," "generally," etc.
49. Norman, The Neogrammarians, p. 39.
50. Georg Curtius, Principles of Greek Etymology, tr. England (London: Murrey, 1875), p. 104.
51. Georg Curtius, "Bemerkungen iiber die Tragweite der Lautgesetze insbesondere im
Griechischen und Lateinischen" (1871), in E. Windisch, ed., Kleine Schriften (Leipzig:
Hirzel, 1886), p. 52.
52. Curtius, Principles, p. 105.
53. Curtius, "Bemerkungen," p. 55.
54. Curtius, Principles, p. 110.
55. Curtius, "Bemerkungen," p. 55.
56. For example, Curtius argues that roots expressing referential meanings were less affeted
by sound changes than roots expressing relations: "We can further assume that comfort
will have the greatest impact on those syllables and words that possess no great weight
as regards meaning and the least impact on those most filled with meaning. Naturally,
such differences do not rest on conscious reflection, but are to be understood psychologi-
cally, i.e. from the soul of the speaker" ("Bemerkungen," pp. 55-56).
Chapter III
1. On the development of German universities, their ideological underpinnings and organi-

zation, see Charles E. McClelland, State. Society and University in Germany 1700- 1914
(Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1980); Fritz K. Ringer, The Decline of the German
Mandarins: The German Academic Community 1890-1914 (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1969); Friedrich Paulsen, Die deutschen Universitiiten und das Universitiitsstudium
(Berlin: Asher, 1902); Joseph Ben- David, The Scientist's Role in Society (Englewood Cliffs:
Prentice Hall, 1969).
2. S. Lefmann, Franz Bopp. sein Leben. seine Wissenschaft (Berlin: 1877), pp. 81-82.
3. Wilhelm von Humboldt, Humanist without Portofolio: An Anthology of the Writings of
Wilhelm von Humboldt, tr. Marianne Cowan (Detroit: Wayne State Univ. Press, 1963). p.
266.
4. Wilhelm von Humboldt, Schriften zur Politik und zum Bildungswesen. Werke infunfBiinden,
Vol. IV (Stuttgart: J.G. Cotta'sche Buchhandlung, 1964), p 261.
5. Humboldt, Humanist . .. , pp. 252-253.
6. Germanistik und deutsche Nation 1806-1848. Literaturwissenschaft und Sozialwissen-

schaften 2. ed. Jorg Jochen Mllller (Stuttgart: I.B. Metzler. 1974). especially pp. 51- 58.
7. Humboldt. SChriften .... p. 256.
8. Franz Bopp. Vergleichende Grammatik (Berlin. 1833). p. XIII.
9. F. Babbinger. "Othmar Frank (1770-1848). Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Morgen-
landischen Studien in Bayem." Zeitschriftfor Bayerische Landesgeschichte. Vol. 22. Heft
I (1959). pp. 77-123. p. 112.
10. Lefmann. p. 73.
II. Lefmann. p. 131*.
12. Ben-David. Scientist's Role. chapter 6; Maurice Crosland. ''The Development of
Professional Career in France." in Maurice Crosland. ed. The Emergence of Science in
Western Europe (New York: Science History Publications. 1975). pp. 139-160.
13. Louis Liard. L'enseignement superieur en France 1789- 1893 (Paris: Colin. 1894). Vol. II.
Chapters I-III.
14. Ben-David. SciRntists Role. ch. 6.
15. Terry N. Clark. Prophets and Patrons: The French University and the Emergence ofthe Social
Sciences (Cambridge: Harvard Univ. Press. 1973). ch. I.
16. F. Paulsen. "Wesen und geschichtliche Entwicklung der deutschen Universitaten." in W.
Lexis, ed. Die deutschen Universitiiten. Vol. I (Berlin: Asher. 1893), p. 40.
17. J. Conrad. "Allgemeine Statistik der deutschen Universitiiten," in Lexis. p. 121.
18. Humboldt, Humanist .... p. 138.
19. Stefanie Seidel-Vollmann. Die romanische Philologie an der Universitiit Miinchen
(1826-1913) (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot. 1977). pp. 120-21.
20. Seidel-Vollmann. p. 123.
21. Festschrift zur 500-Jahrjeier der Universitiit Greifswald (Greifswald. 1956). vol. II. p. 235.
22. Clark. pp. 51-55.
23. Liard. p. 63.
24. Ernst Windisch, Geschichte der Sanskrit-Philologie und indischen Altertumskunde
(Strassburg: Triibner, 1917). part I, p. 147.
25. Liard, pp. 341,494; see also: Michel Breal, Quelques mots sur/'instruction pub/ique en France
(Paris: Hachette. 1872). esp. "Les Facultes", pp. 327-401; and Claude Digeon, La Crise
allemande de la penseefranr;aise (1870-1914) (Paris: PUF. 1959).
26. Ferdinand Lot, DiplOmes d'etudes et dissertations inaugurales. Etude de statistique comparee
(Paris. 1910). p, 28.
27. Steven Turner, ''The Prussian Professoriat and the Research Imperative 1790-1840." in
H.N. Jahnke and M. Otte, eds .• Epistemological and Social Problems of the Sciences in the
Early Nineteenth Century (Dordrecht: Reidel, 1981). p. 112.
28. For Hermann's view of the new discipline see Karl Brugmann. Zum heutigen Stand der
Sprachwissenschaft (Strassburg: TrObner. 1885). p. 6. note.
29. Georg Curtius. Die Sprachvergleichung in ihrem Verhiiltnis zur klassischen Philologie
(Dresden: Blochman, 1845), p. 3.
30. Ludo Rocher, "Les philologues c1assiques et les debuts de la grammaire comparee, in
Revue de rUniversite de Bruxelles. Vol. 10 (1958), p. 251.
31. Lefmann, p. 69*.
32. Curtius, Die Sprachvergleichung ... , pp. 3-4.
33. Rocher. passim.
34. For a similar argument see Joseph Ben-David, "Social Factors in the Origins of a New
Science: The Case of Psychology," in American Sociological Review, Vol. 31 (1966).
35. Georg Curtius, Philologie und Sprachwissenschaji. Antrittsvorlesung gehalten zu Leipzig am
30. April 1862 (Leipzig: Triibner, 1862), p. 23.
36. Karl Brugmann, Der Gymnasialunterricht in den beiden kiassischen Sprachen (Leipzig:
1910), p. 7-8.
37. Ernst Windisch, "Georg Curitus," Biographisches Jahrbuch for Altertumskunde, vol. 9
(1886), pp. 75-128; reprinted in Thomas A. Sebeok, ed., Portraits of Linguists
(Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1966), Vol. I, p. 344.
38. Windisch, "Curtius," p. 344.
Chapter IV
1. "Preface" to Morphological Investigations in the Sphere of Indo-European Languages (1878),

in A Reader in Nineteenth Century Indo-European Linguistics, ed. and trans. by Winfred P.
Lehmann (Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1976), p. 199.
2. Osthoff and Brugmann, "Preface," p. 200.
4. Delbriick's book is a Neogrammarian version of the history of linguistics as well as a
statement of principles. He was criticized by other Neogrammarians for placing too much
emphasis on continuity and for his very moderate tone. Both Delbriick's and Paul's books
have been translated into English: Berthold DeIbriick, Introduction to the Study of
Language, trans. Eva Channing (Amsterdam: John Benjamins B.V., 1974); and Hermann
Paul, Principles ofthe History ofLanguage, trans. from 2nd ed. (1886) by H.A. Strong (1890,
rpt. College Park: McGrath Publishing Co., 1970).
5. A. Bezzenberger, review of Morphologische Untersuschungen in Gottingsche Gelehrte
Anzeiger (1879) pp. 641-81; Ludwig Tobler, "t)ber die Anwendung des Begriffes von
Gesetzen auf die Sprache," in Vierteljahrsschrift for wissenschajilische Philosophie, vol. III
(1879); Hermann Collitz, review of Morphologische Untersuchungen in Zeitschriji fur
deutsches Alterthum, vol. XXIII (1879); Franz Misteli, "Lautgesetz und Analogie:
Methodologische psychologische Abhandlung," in Zeitschriji fur Volkerpsychologie und
Sprachwissenschaji, vol. 11, pp. 363-475; vol. 12, pp. 1-27 (1879).
6. See The Lautgesetz-Controversy: A Documentation (1885- 86), ed. Terence H. Wilbur
(Amsterdam: John Benjamins BY, 1977), with reprints of Georg Curtius, Zur Kritik der
neuesten Sprachforschung (1885); Berthold Delbriick, Die neueste Sprachforschung:
Betrachtungen uber Georg Curtius' Schrift "Zur Kritik der neuesten Spracliforschung" (1885);
Karl Brugmann, Zum heutigen Stand der Sprachwissenschaji; Hugo Schuchardt Uber die
Lautgesetze - Gegen die Junggrammatiker (1885); Hermann Collitz, Die neueste Sprach-
forschung und die Erkiiirung des indogermanischen Ablautes (1886); Hermann Osthoff, Die
neueste Spracliforschung und die Erkliirung des indogermanischen Ablautes: Antwort auf die
gleichnamige Schrift von Dr. Hermann Collitz (1886); Otto Jespersen, "Zur Lautgesetzfrage"
(1887); also (not included in Wilbur's collection) G.!. Ascoli, Sprachwissenschajiliche
Briefe, trans. Bruno Guterbock (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1887); M. Bloomfield, "On the Probability
of the Existence of Phonetic Law," in American Journal ofPhilology, vol. 5 ( 1884 ); F. Muller,
"Sind die Lautgesetze Naturgesetze?" in (Techmer's) Intemationale Zeitschriji flir

allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft, vol. I (1884).
7. See titles in the preceding notes.
8. Hermann Collitz, Die neueste Sprachforschung ... , Hermann Osthoff, Die neueste Sprach-
forschung ... , also Collitz, "W!!.hrung meines Rechts" (1887), in Wilbur; Karl Verner, "Zur
Frage der Entdeckung des Palatalgesetzes," in Literarisches Zentralblattfiir Deutschland,
vol. 14 (1886), pp. 1707-10.
9. G.I. Ascoli, Sprachwissenschaftliche Briefe; Johannes Schmidt, "Schleichers Aufassung
der Lautgesetze," in (Kuhn's) Zeitschriftflir vergleichende Sprachforschung, vol. 28 (1887),
pp. 307 ff., and Schmidt's review of Georg Curtius' Zur Kritik der neuesten Sprachforschung
in Deutsche Literaturzeitung, 1885, no. 10, pp. 339-344.
10. Of course not all accounts of the history of linguistics adopt a Kuhnian framework of
analysis. There are a number of studies that aim at a "factual description" and which do
not acknowledge any historiographic perspective (e.g., H. Pedersen, The Discovery of
Language, trans. by J.W. Sprago (Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1931), or R.H.
Robins, A Short History of Linguistics (Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1967». There
are also many works which attempt to evaluate the achievements of the Neogrammarians
in terms of their contribution to modern linguistics. Such an overtly evaluative standpoint
is adopted by, among others, Kurt Jankowsky in The Neogrammarians: ARe-evaluation
of Their Place in the Development ofLinguistic Science (The Hague: Mouton, 1972) and T.H.
Wilbur in his "Introduction" to The Lautgesetz Controversy ... (both of these authors offer
also some interesting ideas about the Neogrammarians). Needless to say, it is not my
intention to evaluate the Neogrammarians' contribution to modern studies of language.
II. Michael Mulkay, The Social Process of Innovation: A Study in the Sociology of Science
(London: Macmillan, 1972).
12. See Curtius, Zur Kritik . .. and Osthoff and Brugmann,Morphologische Untersuchungen, vol.
IV.
13. Osthoff and Brugmann, "Preface," p. 204. Similar views were expressed earlier by both
authors and by Paul and Leskien.
14. Curtius, "Bemerkungen tiber die Tragweite der Lautgesetze insbesondere im Grie-
chischen und Lateinischen" (1871), in E. Windisch, ed., Kleine Schriften (Leipzig: Hirzel,
1887), p. 52. Although much of what Curtius and Schleicher saw as sporadic was
recognized as regular by 1876, when the Neogrammarians announced their principle of
Ausnahmslosgkeit der Lautgesetze, yet in the seventies there were still many unexplained,
irregular sound changes. And the Neogrammarians repeatedly insisted that their principle
was not an inductive generalization (for example, in the "Preface," p. 205; Delbrtick in
the Introduction ... , p. 117; Osthoff in Das psychologische und physiologische Moment in der
sprachlichen Formenbildung, vol. 327 of Sammlung gemeinverstiindlicher wissenschaftlicher
Vortriige (Berlin, 1879), p. 6).
15. Ascoli, Sprachwissenschaftliche Briefe. p. 134.
16. Johannes Schmidt, "Schleichers Auffassung," p. 304.
17. Paul Kiparsky, "From Paleogrammarians to Neogrammarians," in Studies in the History
of Linguistics: Traditions and Paradigms, ed. Dell Hymes (Bloomington: Indiana Univ.
Press, 1974), p. 304.
18. The discoveries were made in or around 1876. I have no information about Tegner and
Thomsen. Collitz rejected the Neogrammarian position in 1879 (see his review of
Morphologische Untersuchungen), although by 1886 he modified his position somewhat

adopting a view similar to that of Schmidt. Schmidt rejected the notion that the
Neogrammarians were the first to formulate the principle of exceptionless sound laws, but
he accepted the principle as sound. Saussure shared the views of the Neogrammarians
as far as sound laws were concerned. He reaffirmed the belief in the regularity of sound
change in Cours de linguistique generale (1916; Paris: Payot, 1972, pp. 132-33). Karl Verner
did not believe that sound laws have no exceptions, as he affirmed in "Zur Frage ..."
19. Delbrilck, Introduction, p. 10 I.
20. Brugmann, Zum heutigen Stand . .. , p. 119.
21. Delbrilck, Introduction ... , p. 56.
22. Johannes Schmidt, quoted in Delbrilck, Introduction, p. 57.
23. The relative lack of methodological bearing of the principle of exceptionless sound laws
does not necessarily mean that there were no other important methodological differences
between the Neogrammarians and their opponents. The prescription to search for regular
sound laws existed earlier, but the methods adopted in this search might have changed.
William Norman argues that this was indeed the case, and that these new methods were
a direct result of the theoretical and philosophical innovations of the Neogrammarians.
He claims that the Neogrammarians were the first linguists to use morphological unifor-
mities to guide their search for sound laws, and that this was a direct result of their
unstated belief that language is morphologically regular at every stage of its development.
This belief, according to Norman, allowed the Neogrammarians to examine sound
alternations in morphologically related groups and to use morphophonemic alternation
as indicators of historical sound change. Norman claims that this method of "internal
reconstruction," the synchronic comparison of related morphemes in the same language
in order to detect conditions of sound change, was "the Neogrammarians' most significant
methodological innovation" (The Neogrammarians, p. 177). He is unable to explain why,
despite the fact that the Neogrammarians were so severely attacked, this "radical"
innovation passed unnoticed, and why the Neogrammarians were unaware that they were
innovating in this instance. Norman claims that scientists are often unaware of what they
are in fact doing. While it is obvious that this lack of awareness often concerns their
assumptions it is difficult to imagine scholars being completely unaware of the novelty of
their methodology. This is especially perplexing in view of the fact that one of the most
controversial contributions of Brugmann, his proof of the existence of vocalic nasals in
proto-Indo-European, was made precisely by an application of this method. Brugmann's
results were attacked; the propriety of his method as such was not. Norman is right that
the Neogrammarians used this method more extensively and more consistently than their
predecessors, and that it was an extension of this method which allowed Brugmann to
posit the vocalic nasals, and Saussure (who used it in a truly novel way) to solve some
of the problems of irregularities in the development of the Indo-European vocalic system;
yet he is incorrect in suggesting that the Neogrammarians were the first to use this method.
It was used previously, though perhaps on a smaller scale, in discoveries of conditioned
sound change; for example, Schleicher used it repeatedly in the Compendium, when he
derived laws governing assimilation by synchronic morphophonemic variations (pp. 93,
II 0-111, and passim). This method was also employed by Grassmann in 1863 as part of
the proof for the law governing the distribution of aspirates in Sanskrit and Greek; and
it was used more extensively and consciously by Verner in his work on Grimm's law
("Ober die Aspiranten und ihr gleichzeitiges Vorhandensein im An- und Auslaute der
Wurzeln" in (Kuhn's) Zeitschriftfiir vergleichende Sprachjorschung, vol. 12, 1863; and also
"Eine Ausnahme der ersten Lautverschiebung" (Kuhn's) Zeitschrift, vol. 23, 1877).
Norman also incorrectly argues that all previous discoveries were made solely by
comparison of cognate roots in different languages, and that no morphophonemic
variations were allowed at all. It is one thing to believe that the original language was free
of morphophonemic variation, and quite another to admit no morphophonemic variations
in historical "daughter" languages. The early comparative grammarians, including
Schleicher and Curtius, believed in the first of these propositions, but they never adopted
the second. They allowed for morphophonemic variation in the daughter languages and
tried to explain them as resulting from conditioned sound change. In order to discover
how a conditioned sound change had taken place they often had to resort to examining
patterns of morphophonemic variation. (Sometimes, however, these explanations
involved positing a morphologically conditioned sound change - an anathema to the
Neogrammarians.) Moreover, Schleicher allowed for some morphophonemic variation
even in the common Indo-European (e.g., vowel gradations), although he generally tried
to eliminate them. Even in the example cited by Norman, Schleicher allowed for such
variation between the optative suffixes ja and i in commmon Indo-European, and tried
to account for them by positing a sound change affecting ther supposedly original suffix
ja which in his view split into the two suffixes before the Indo-European languages
separated. It was this last practice of positing sound changes which were supposed to have
occurred before common Indo-European had evolved into various languages that the
Neogrammarians abandoned. As opposed to Schleicher, they no longer felt it necessary
(or justifiable) to reconstruct the original language and were quite satisfied to reconstruct
the oldest attestable form of Indo-European, which often involved morphophonemic
variations. This specific "restraint," which involved a non-commmittal attitude toward the
agglutination theory and a uniformitarian view ofiinguistic change, did indeed stem from
their theory of language.
24. August Leskien, Die Deklination im Slawisch-Litauischen und Germanischen (Leipzig:
Hirzel, 1876), p. I.
25. Hermann Paul, "Die Vokale der Flexions- und Ableitungs- Silben in den liltesten
germanischen Dialekten" in (Paul and Braune's) Beitriige zur Geschichte der deutschen
Sprachen und Literatur, vol. IV (1877), p. 322. Delbriick argued similarly: "If the roots
were no longer in existence in the individual languages, no longer even in the inflected
Indo- European languages, but only in the period which lies behind it, then we cannot
speak of Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, German, etc., roots but only of Indo-European ones. If
notwithstanding, we postulate roots for the individual languages, they have no scientific
value, but only the significance of practical aides. In this respect the antiquity of the
separate languages makes no difference. ( ... ) The historical relation is everywhere the
same: at an infinite distance back of all tradition lies the time in which the Indo-European
inflection did not exist, in which da, we can say, was used to express "give," "giver," etc.
Then, when a dami "I give," a datar "giver," etc., were formed, the root da, as such, had
vanished from the language. From that time forth (after the completion of inflection) no
longer roots , but only words existed" (Delbriick, Introduction, p. 76).
26. Hirt argues that as long as each monosyllabic root, suffix, etc., was traced separately, the
role of accent in Ablaut could not be discerned. He sees the old practice of examining
separate roots as one of the reasons why Holtzmann and Benfey failed to discover the
effect of accent on Ablaut in the 1840s. Hermann Hirt, /ndogermanische Grammatik, Teil
II (Heidelberg: Winter, 1921), p. 10.
27. The Neogrammarians were not the first to be interested in the connection between
linguistics and psychology. Since the 1850s, Henmann Steinthal and his associate Moritz
Lazarus were pursuing a psychological study oflanguage use. As followers of Humboldt,
Steinthal and Lazarus opposed the notion that language is a natural organism, and
advocated the idea that language is predominantly an expression of man's intelligence and
creativity. As such it had to be studied psychologically. Steinthal and Lazarus adopted
the mechanistic psychology of Johann Kaspar Herbart (1776-1841) and tried to describe
linguistic processes occurring in the psyche as being subject to the same kinds of laws as
other mental activites. Their studies were largely ignored by the comparative grammarians
before the advent of the Neogrammarians, since neither Steinthal nor Lazarus was
interested in the history of languages and they did no empirical work in the field. But the
Neogrammarians took many of their own ideas from Steinthal and Lazarus and viewed
the integration of psychology into a theory oflanguage changes as a major theoretical task.
They even adopted the same Herbartian psychological model as Steinthal and Lazarus.
But the Neogrammarians cannot be described simply as followers of Steinthal and
Lazarus; the differences between their views were just as significant as the similarities.
Thus, for example, while Steinthal and Lazarus advocated the idea of a "collective mind~
(Volkgeist), the Neogrammarians insisted on a purely individualistic approach. A
collective mind which according to Steinthal and Lazarus was to be the subject of a special
branch of psychology (Volkerpsychologie), was according to the Neogrammarians an
abstraction, while science should guard itself against all unnecessary abstractions: "All
psychical processes come to their fulfillment in individual minds, and nowhere else.
Neither the popular mind (Volkgeist), nor elements of it, such as art, religion, etc., have
any concrete existence, and therefore nothing can come to pass in them and between them.
Away then with these abstractions! For 'away with all abstractions!' must be our watch-
word if we ever want to attempt to define the factors of any real event or process" (Paul,
Principles, p. 35). Later, the Neogrammarians used the same argument against Wilhelm
Wundt and his collective psychology.
28. Osthoff and Brugmann, "Preface,~ p. 198.
29. Paul, Principles, pp. XXIV-XXV.
30. Paul, Principles, p. XXVII.
31. August Schleicher, Die Darwinische Theorie und die Sprachwissenschafi (2nd. ed., Weimar:
Bohlau, 1873), p. 10.
32. Osthoff and Brugmann, "Preface," p. 205. Similarly, Delbrilck could not admit that a
reasonable person, and a founder of the discipline of linguistics, would attribute to
language a life independent of its users, and argued that if anyone had pointed out to Bopp
that he attributed mental states to language he "would have acknowledged that in reality
these psychical activities take place, not in language, but in speaking individuals"
(Delbrilck, Introduction. p. 19).
33. Paul, Principles, p. 13.
34. Brugmann, "Zum heutigen Stand," p. 88.
35. "We have to study the forces at work under our observation, and the methods of their
working; and we have to carry them back into the past by careful analogical reasoning,
inferring from similar effects to similar causes, just as far as the process can be made to
work legitimately, never assuming new forces and modes of action, except where the old
ones are absolutely incapable of furnishing the explanation we are seeking - and, even
then, only under the most careful restrictions. This is the familiar method of the modern
inductive sciences; and its applicability to the science of language also is beyond all
reasonable doubt. The parallel between linguistics and geology, the most historical of the
physical sciences, is here closest and most instructive ( ... ) The essential unity oflinguistic
history, in all its phases and stages, must be made the cardinal principle of the study of
language, if this is to bear a scientific character" (William Dwight Whitney, Life and
Growth of Language (1875), New York: Appleton, 1877). Ironically, Whitney used this
principle only in support of the agglutination theory. Observing processes of agglutination
in the modern languages, he argued that the same process must have taken place in the
early stages of language development, leading to inflection.
37. Wilhelm Scherer, Zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache (Berlin, 1868).
39. Gustav Meyer, review of Morphologische Untersuchungen in Jenaer Literaturzeitung, 1879,
No. 13.
40. Osthoff, Das physiologische und psychologische Moment, p. 5.
46. Karl Brugmann, "Nasalis sonans in der indogermanischen Grundsprache," in Studien zur
griechischen und lateinischen Grammatik, Vol. IX, 1876, footnote on pp. 317-18.
48. Paul, Principles, pp. 59-60.
49. Gisela Schneider, Zum Begrif! des Lautgesetzes in der Sprachwissenschajt seit den
Junggrammatikem (Tiibingen, 1973).
52. Paul, "Zur Geschichte des germanischen Vocalismus," in (Paul and Braune's) Beitriige zur
Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur, Vol. IV (1879), p. 3.
53. Brugmann, "Zur Geschichte der Nominalsuffixe -as, -jas, - vas," in (Kuhn's) Zeitschriji
fur vergleichende Sprachforschung, Vol. XXIV, p. 4.
57. Paul, Principles, pp. 53-54.
58. Delbriick, Introduction, p. 120.
61. The idea that sound laws bear any similarity to natural laws was sharply criticized by
Tobler ("O'ber die Anwendung"). Paul cited Tobler in the Principles when he retracted his
previous assertion that sound laws are analogous to natural laws. Tobler was not
criticizing Osthoff's formulation of the causal factors involved in phonetic change, but the
standard statements of sound laws which did not specify the cause of any given change.
He argued that these formulations did not fulfill the requirements of natural laws.
62. Paul, "Zur Geschichte,H p. 1.
64. The identification of sound laws with natural laws in the first model was not identical with
the belief that all oflinguistics is a natural science. What the first model claimed was that
the evidence of linguistics, as it was subsumed under sound laws, was similar in nature
to the evidence of the natural sciences. Insofar as this was the case, linguistics bore some
resemblance to the natural sciences. Moreover, in the Principles, Paul proposed a
distinction between the natural and the cultural sciences which was not based on the
dichotomy of ideographic and nomothetic sciences, and there is no evidence that the
Neogrammarians believed that the cultural sciences could not be nomothetic. For Paul,
cultural sciences could be nomothetic (even if, as in the second model, sound laws were
not seen as nomothetic explanations), but as opposed to natural sciences, the cultural
sciences were those for which psychology was to serve as the fundamental discipline: "The
characteristic mark of culture lies in the cooperation of psychical with other factors. This
seems to be the single possible determination of this area as against the objects of the
natural sciences pure and simple" (Principles, p. XXVIII). Since, when Paul wrote the
Principles, he believed that all linguistic phenomena were dependent on psychological
factors, he claimed that all of linguistics is a cultural science. But even according to the
first model, the operation of analogy was seen as a result of psychological processes; and
to this extent linguistics was seen as a cultural science even then. At most, the
Neogrammarians claimed that the science of language was partially a natural science
(because sound laws were originally seen as purely physiological), as Osthoff did in Das
physiologische und psychologische Moment; they never claimed that all oflinguistics could
be described as a natural science.
66. The Neogrammarians praised such studies of living languages, and in their "Preface"
Osthoff and Brugmann refer to lost Winteler's study of his native dialect (Die Kerenzer
Mundan des Kanton Glarus). On the history of the study of living dialects and on
geographical linguistics see I. Iordan and 1. Orr, An Introduction to Romance Linguistics
(Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1970).
Chapter V
1. Latour, Bruno and Steve Woolgar, Laboratory Life: The Social Construction of Scientific
Facts (Beverly Hills and London: Sage Publications, 1979).
2. Latour and Woolgar, p. 207.
3. Richard Whitley, The Intellectual and Social Organization of the Sciences (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1984).
4. Whitley, p. 25-26.
5. Georg Curtius, Zur Kritik der neuesten Sprachforschung (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1885), pp. 1-2.
6. Stanislaw Ossowski, "0 wlasciwosciach nauk spolecznych" (On the Pecularities of the
Social Sciences) in 0 Nauce. Vol IV of Dziela (Warsaw: PWN, 1967).
7. Terence Wilbur, Introduction to The Lautgesetz- Controversy: A Documentation (1885-
1886) (Amsterdam: John Benjamins B.V., 1977), p. xxxiv.
8. The data on career patterns in the humanities in general used for comparison with the
Neogrammarians comes from Christian Ferber, Die Entwicklung des Lehrkorpers der
deutschen Universitiiten und Hochschulen 1864-1954, in Untersuchungen zur Lage der
deutschen Hochschullehrer, ed. Helmuth Plessner (G5ttingen: Vandenhoek und Ruprecht,
1956), especially Tables 19 and 20.
9. Data from Johannes Conrad, "Allgemeine Statistik der deutschen Universitilten," in Die
deutschen Universitiiten I, edited by W. Lexis (Berlin: Asher, 1893), pp. 118-121.
10. Wilhelm Lexis, ed., 1893. Die deutschen Universitiiten I (Berlin: Asher, 1893), p. 620.
11. Ferber, Tables I and II.
12. Ferber, Table II and data from individual universities; see also note 13.
13. Information on the creation of chairs, their titles and occupants was collected from a
number of sources. For individual universities, the following have proved most useful:
Berlin: Max Lenz, Geschichte der koniglichen Friedrich- Wilhelms-Universitiit zu Berlin (Halle:
Waisenhauses, 1910); Hans Leussink, Eduard Neumann and Georg Kotowski, eds.,
Studium Berlinense: Aufsiitze und Beitriige zu Problemen deT Wissenschajt und zur Geschichte
der Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universitiit zu Berlin (Berlin: Gruyter, 1960); Bonn: Otto Wenig,
Verzeichnis der Professoren und Dozenten der Rheinischen Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universitiit zu
Bonn 1818-1968 (Bonn: 1968); Friedrich von Bezold, Geschichte der Rheinischen Friedrich-
Wilhelms-Universitiit von der Griindung bis zum Jahre 1870 (Bonn: Weber, 1920); Breslau:
Theodor Siebs, "Zur Geschichte der germanischen Studien in Breslau," Zeitschrijt filr
deutsche Philologie, vol. 43 (1911), pp. 202-235; Erlangen: Theodor Kolde, Die Universitiit
Erlangen unter dem Hause Wittelsbach 1810-1910 (Erlangen and Leipzig: Deichert'sche
Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1910); Freiburg: Badische Schulstatistik: Die Hochschulen (Karls-
ruhe 1912); Ursula Burkhardt, Germanistik in Sildwestdeutschland (Tilbingen: Mohr,
1976); Gottingen: Wilhelm Ebel, Catalogus Professorum Gottingensium 1734-1965
(G5ttingen, 1962); Greifswald: Festschrift zur 500- Jahresfeier der Universitiit Greifswald
(Greifswald, 1956); Heidelberg: Badische Schulstatistik; "Die germanischen Vorlesungen
zwischen 1803 und 1900 an der Universitilt Heidelberg," Rupert CaTola Zeitschrift, XIX.
Jahrgang, Vol. 42 (1967);Jena: Dietrich Germann, "Die Anflinge der deutschen Anglistik
und die Entwicklung des Faches an der Universitilt Jena," Archiv filr Kulturgeschichte, vol.
41 (1959), pp. 183-200,342-372; Max Stenmetz, ed., Geschichte der UniversitiitJena. 2 vols.
(Jena 1958/60); Kiel: Friedrich Volbehr and Richard Weyl, Professoren und Dozenten der
Christian-Albrechts- Universitiit zu Kiel. 1856-1954 (Kiel: Hirt, 1956); Leipzig: Franz
Eulenburg, Die Entwicklung der Universitiit Leipzig in den letzten Hundert Jahren (Leipzig:
Hirzel, 1909); Festschrijt zur Feier des 500 Jiihrigen Bestehens der Universitiit Leipzig, Band
IV: Die Institute und Seminare der Philosophischen Fakultiit an der Universitiit Leipzig
(Leipzig: Hirzel, 1909); Marburg: Franz Gundlach, Die Akademischen Lehrer der Phillipps-
Universitiit in Marburg von 1527 bis 1910 (Marburg: Elwert'sche Verlagsbuchhandlung,
1927); H. Hermelink and S.A. Kaehler, Die Phillipps-Universitiit zu Marburg 1527-1927.
Fun! Kapitel aus ihrer Geschichte (1527-1866); Die Universitiit Marburg seit 1866 in Einzel-
darstellungen (Marburg: Elwert'sche Veriagsbuchhandlung, 1927); Munich: Franz
Babinger, "Ein Jahrhundert morgenlilndischer Studien an der Milnchener Universitilt,"
Zeitschrift fur Deutsche Morgenliindische Gesel/Schajt, vol. 107 (1957), pp. 242-269;
Stephanie Seidel-Vollman, Die romanische Philologie an der Universitiit Ml1nchen (Munich:
Duncker and Humblot, 1977); Tl1bingen: Burkhardt, Germanistik. Also data of Ferber;
Lexis; Gustav Korting, Encyclopaedie und Methodologie der Romanischen Philologie
(Heilbronn: Henninger, 1884); Minerva: Jahrbuch der Universitiiten der Welt (Strassburg,
1893 ff.).
14. Harriet Zuckerman and Robert K. Merton, "Patterns of Evaluations in Science: Insti-
tutionalization, Structure and Functions of the Referee System," Minerva, vol. 9 (1971),
pp.66-100.
15. Compiled on the basis of Joachim Kirchner, ed., Bibliographie der Zeitschriften des
deutschen Sprachgebietes, 2 vols. (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1971).
16. Burkhardt, p. 35.
17. Karl Brugmann, Z um heutigen Stand der Sprachwissenschajt (Strassburg: Trfibner, 1885),
p.4.
18. Brugmann, Zum heutigen Stand, p. 8.
19. Seidel-Vollman, p. 15.
20. Burkhardt, p. 129.
21. On the basis of Lexis, pp. 607-612.
22. Andrew Pickering, ''The Role of Interests in High Energy Physics. The Choice Between
Charm and Colour," in The Social Process of Scientific Investigation, edited by Karin D.
Knorr, Roger Krohn and Richard Whitley, Sociology of the Sciences Yearbook IV
(Dordrecht, London and Boston: Reidel, 1982), p. 127.
23. In addition to holding a chair of comparative grammar in Berlin, Schmidt was one of the
editors of Kuhn's Zeitschrijt, while from 1877 Bezzenberger edited a new linguistic journal,
Beitriige zur Kunde der indogermanischen Sprachen.
24. Of course, the idea that the cognitive development of science is shaped by the
opportunities and limitations provided by the institutional structure within which science
develops is not new. However, there have been only a few attempts to explain specific
cognitive processes in these terms. Thus, in explaining the emergence of psychology,
Joseph Ben-David and Randall Collins ("Social Factors in the Origins of a New Science:
The Case of Psychology ," American Sociological Review, vol. 31 (1966), pp. 451-65) focused
on the role of the university structure in nineteenth-century Germany which blocked
career opportunities of physiologists and led them to migrate to philosophy. Ben-David
and Collins, however, did not try to relate cognitive developments, except on the most
general level of the emergence of a discipline, to specific institutional processes. In his later
work, Ben-David (The Scientist's Role in Society: A Comparative Study; Englewood Cliffs:
Prentice Hall, 1971) again focused on the institutional structure of universities in order
to explain differences in scientific development in England, France, Germany and the
United States, though in this study he did not deal at all with the particular cognitive
effects of different institutional arrangements, but rather with rates of development. More
recently, Gerald Geison (Michael Foster and the Cambridge School ofPhysiology; Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1978) has examined the development of physiology in England
in terms of existing opportunities for institution building, while Robert Kohler (From
Medical Chemistry to Biochemistry: The Making of a Biomedical Discipline; Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1982) has traced the effects of the opportunities for
institutionalization of biochemistry on the development of this particular discipline in
Germany, England and the United States. In both of these studies, however, relatively
little is said about the relation of specific cognitive claims to the institutional structures
in which they were formulated. On the other hand, studies in the sociology of scientific
knowledge have generally attempted to elucidate cognitive developments in terms of
broad social interests (e.g. Donald MacKenzie, Statistics in Britain 1865-1930: The Social
Construction of Scientific Knowledge; Edinburgh: Edinburgh U niv. Press, 1981), or in terms
of institutionally unattached cognitive interests (Trevor Pinch, "What Does a Proof Do
if it Does Not Prove?" in The Social Production of Scientific Knowledge, edited by E.
Mendelsohn, P. Weingart, and R.D. Whitley; Sociology of the Sciences Yearbook I;
Dordrecht, London and Boston: Reidel, 1977; Pickering, ''The Role of Interests" and
"Interests and Analogies" in Scientific Context: Readings in the Sociology of Science, edited
by Barry Barnes and David Edge; Milton Keynes: Open University Press, 1982). While
the present study fits well within Pickering's perspective, it puts more emphasis on specific
institutional structures rather than the interests of institutionally unanchored scientific
communities.
Chapter VI
1. Albert Sechehaye, "L'Ecole genevoise de Iinguistique generale," in lndogermanische

Forschungen, Vol. XLIV, p. 24.
2. Karl Vossler, The Spirit ofLanguage in Civilization (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1932), pp.
187-188.
3. Karl Vossler, Positivismus und ldealismus in der Sprachwissenschaji (Heidelberg: Winter,
1904), p. 2.
4. Vossler, Positivismus, pp. 9-10.
5. Herman Paul, Principles of the History of Language (1880), tr. H.A. Strong (College Park:
McGrath, 1970), p. xxv.
6. Paul, p. 17.
7. Vossler, Positivismus, p. 18.
9. Karl Vossler, Gesammelte Aufsiitze zur Sprachphilosophie (Munich: Hueber, 1923), p. 92.
10. Paul, p. xxv.
11. H. Stuart Hughes, Consciousness and Society (New York: Random House, 1958), p. 65.
12. It should be noted, however, that Durkheim remained under a strong influence of
positivism, and that some of his descriptions of "social facts" seem to deny their "con-
structed" character and point to a "realist" interpretation (but see the article "Sociologie"
in La Grande Encyclopedie (Paris, 190 I) by two of Durkheim's students, Fauconnet and
Mauss, who insist on the abstract character of sociological concepts). On the other hand,
Weber emphasized the abstract, "fictional" nature of his ideal types, but he was also
influenced by the "intuitionists" (viz. the idea of "Verstehenssoziologie"). As we can see
by Weber's example, the two trends I am describing are not intrinsically opposed to one
another, although they are analytically distinct. While in linguistics the two trends were
both clearly distinguished and in opposition, the division between those social scientists
who construct their concepts and those who insist on concrete nominalist description is
obviously not sufficiently clear to allow one to classify early twentieth- century social
scientists in an adequate manner; and this should serve us as yet another reminder of the
complex connections between scientific ideas and idea systems.
13. Benedetto Croce, Aesthetic as Science of Expression and General Linguistics (1902), tr. by
Douglas Ainslie (London: Macmillan, 1909), p. 66.
14. Vossler, Gesammelte Aufsiitze, p. 14.
16. Vossler, Gesammelte Aujsiitze, p. 66.
17. Vossler, Gesammelte Aufsiitze, p. 95.
19. Vossler, Positivismus, p. 15-16
20. Vossler, The Spirit of Language, pp. 115-116.
22. See La Fontaine und sein Fabelwerk (Heidelberg, 1914); Dante als religioser Dichter (Bern,
1921); lean Racine (Munich: Hueber, 1926); or the articles reprinted in Die Romanische
Welt (Munich: Piper, 1965).
23. See Frankreichs Kultur im Spiegel seiner Sprachentwicklung (Heidelberg, 1913).
24. See Eugen Lerch, Historische Franzosische Syntax (Leipzig: Reisland, 1925) and
Franzosische Sprache und Wesensart (Frankfurt a. M.: Diesterweg, 1933); Etienne Lorck,
Die "erlebte Rede, " Eine sprachliche Untersuchung (Heidelberg, 1921) and "Die Sprach-
seelenforschung und franzosische Modi,~ in lahrbuchfiir Philologie, II (1927).
25. Fritz Ringer, The Decline of the German Mandarins: The German Academic Community,
1880-1933 (Cambridge: Harvard Univ. Press, 1969), p. 295.
26. Berthold Delbriick, Das Sprachstudium aufden deutschen Universitiiten (Jena: Dufft, 1875);
Hermann Osthoff, "Der grammatische Schulunterricht und die sprachwissenschaftliche
Methode," in Zeitschri/t fiir die Oste"eichischen Gymnasien, 1880, pp. 55-72; Karl
Brugmann, Der Gymnasialuntemcht in den beiden klassichen Sprachen und die Sprach-
wissenschaft (Strassburg: Triibner, 1910).
27. Osthoff, "Das grammatische Schulunterricht," p. 57.
28. Walter Kuhfuss, "Die Rezeption der Romanischen Philologie in den Programmabhand-
lungen der hoheren Schulen im 19. Jahrhundert," in In Memoriam Friedrich Diez: Akten
des Kolloquims zur Wissenschaftsgeschichte der Romanistik, Trier, 2-12 Okt. 1975, eds. H.J.
Niederecke and H. Haarman (Amsterdam: Benjamins, 1976).
29. Alf Sommerfelt, "Hugo Schuhardt,~ 1929, rpt. in Portraits of Linguists, I, ed. Thomas A.
Sebeok (Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1966), p. 505.
30. There were 16 lectors of European languages in 1873 and 50 in 1910, according to the
calculations of Christian Ferber in Die Entwicklung des Lehrkorpers der deutschen Universi-
tiiten und Hochschulen 1864-1954 (Gottingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht, 1956).
31. Ringer, p. 256.
32. Ringer, pp. 103-104.
33. Ringer, p. 268.
34. Eduard Schramm, "Gedachtnisrede," in Studia Romanica, Gedenkschriftfiir Eugen Lerch,
eds. Charles Bruneau & Peter M. Schon (Stuttgart: Port Verlag, 1955), p. 10.
35. Eugen Lerch and Victor Klemperer, "Vorwort" to lahrbuchfur Philologie, I (1925).
36. Ringer, p. 257.
37. Victor Klemperer, "Idealistische Philologie," in Idealistische Philologie: lahrbuch fiir
Philologie, III (1927), p. 3.
38. Karl Vossler, Die Universitiit als Bildungsstiitte (Munich: Hueber, 1923).
39. Victor Klemperer, "Karl Vossler," in Jahrbuchjiir Philologie, II (1926), pp. 4-5.
40. Such as the Jahrbuchjiir Philologie (1925-26) and Idealistische Philologie (1927). None of
the Idealist journals had a long-lasting success.
Chapter VII
I. For example, Berti! Malmberg claims that Saussure "definitively breaks with the tradition
of the Neogrammarians" in Les nouvelles tendences de la linguistique (Paris: PUF, 1968),
p. 55; E.F.K. Koerner talks in various works about the "Saussurean paradigm," e.g., in
Towards a Historiography of Linguistics (Amsterdam : Benjamins, 1978).
2. Roman Jakobson, Selected Writings Vol. II (The Hague : Mouton, 1971), p. 717; and E.
F. K. Koerner, Towards a Historiography, p. 39.
3. Saussure's Cours, given its status as the first articulation of a' new idea system, has been
subjected to the most detailed critical and historical scrutiny. Moreover, in view of the
unusual manner in which the work was published (Saussure left very few notes, and most
of the book was reconstructed and collated by the editors from his students' notes), the
usually contentious question addressed towards the work of seminal thinkers - "what did
the author really mean?" - was compounded by the more basic problem of "what did
Saussure really say?" As a result of this uncertainty, much critical effort has been spent
on the presentation of the original materials used in the construction of the Cours and on
the investigation of additional sources which have been discovered since the appearance
of the original edition. See especially Les sources manuscrites du Cours de linguistique
generale de F. de Saussure (Geneva: Droz, 1969) and the critical edition of the Cours by
R. Engler (Wiesbaden, 1967). In addition to the immense amount of work devoted to the
reconstruction of Saussure's unwritten opus, much of the historical work concerning the
transition from nineteenth- to twentieth-century linguistics has concentrated on the
problem of Saussure's predecessors, those thinkers who influenced him directly or who
at one time or another had formulated ideas which can also be found in the Cours.
4. Godel. p. 5.
5. Iorgu Iordan and John Orr, An Introduction to Romance Linguistics. Its Schools and Scholars
(Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1970), p. 294; Leonard Bloomfield, review of the
Cours in Modem Language Journal, vol. 8 (1924), p. 318; Karl Jaberg, "F. de Saussure's
Vorlesungen fiber allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft," in Sprachwissenschaftliche Forschungen
und Erlebnisse (Paris: Droz, 1937), p. 127.
6. Koerner, Towards a Historiography, p. 39 ; Iordan- Orr, p. 294.
7. Koerner discusses the continuities between Paul and Saussure in his essay "Hermann
Paul and Synchronic Linguistics," reprinted in Towards a Historiography, and in his
monograph on Saussure, F. de Saussure - Origin and Development of his LinguistiC Theory
in Western Studies of Language (Braunschweig: F. Vieweg, 1973). Unfortunately, Koerner
treats both Paul's and Saussure's works not as coherent idea systems but as loose
collections of concepts, beliefs, terms and disconnected statements. As a consequence of
this approach, Koerner is unable to present the continuities and discontinuities between
Paul and Saussure as anything other than a result of unsystematic (or even random)
borrowing or "influence." His main goal is to demonstrate that Paul's Prinzipien

constituted one of Saussure's "sources," not that there is a systematic link between the
two idea systems.
8. "Souvenirs de F. de Saussure concernant sajeunesse et ses etudes," in Cahiers Ferdinand
de Saussure, vol. 17 (1957), p. 15.
9. Some of the early reviewers of the Cours complained about this lack of originality in
Saussure's diachronic linguistics; e.g., Eduard Hermann in Philologische Wochenschrift, No.
11 (1922), p. 252; Otto Jespersen, review of the Cours (1916), reprinted in Linguistica:
Selected Papers in English. French. and German (London: Allen & Unwin, 1933).
10. Godel, p. 51.
11. For example, no mention will be made of the supposed relationship between Saussure and
the Humboldtian tradition which has been claimed by, among others, E. Coseriu in
"Georg von Gabelentz et la linguistique synchronique," Word, vol. 23, pp. 74-100, and
disputed - I believe successfully - by Christine Bierbach in Sprache als "Fait Social": Die
linguistische Theorie F. de Saussure's und ihr Verhiiltnis zu den positivistischen Sozialwissen-
schaften (Tiibingen: Max Niemeyer, 1978).
12. T. S. Kuhn, "Energy Conservation as an Example of Simultaneous Discovery," in
Marshall Clagett, ed., Critical Problems in the History of Science (Madison: Univ. of
Wisconsin Press, 1959), repr. in T.S. Kuhn, The Essential Tension (Chicago: Univ. of
Chicago Press, 1977).
13. Jan Baudouin de Courtenay, "A Program of Readings for a General Course in Linguistics,"
inA Baudouin de Courtenay Anthology, ed. by E. Stankiewicz (Bloomington: Indiana Univ.
Press, 1972); Karl von Ettmayer, "Benmigen wir eine wissenschaftlich deskriptive
Sprachwissenschaft?" in Prinzipienfrage der romanischen Sprachwissenschaft (Halle:
Niemeyer, 1910).
14. H. Osthoff and K. Brugmann, "Preface to Morphological Investigations" (1878) in W.
Lehmann, A Reader in Nineteenth- Century Historical Indo-European Linguistics
(Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1967), p. 200.
IS. Osthoff and Brugmann, p. 201.
16. Ferdinand de Saussure, Course in General Linguistics, Charles Bally and Albert Sechehaye,
eds., Wade Baskin, transl. (New York: McGraw Hill, 1959), p. 4 (hereafter abbreviated
CGL). All citations from this translation of the Cours have been checked against the
critical French edition (Cours de linguistique generale, Charles Bally and Albert Sechehaye,
eds., critical edition prepared by Tullio de Mauro; Paris : Payot, 1973), and some have
been amended for accuracy.
17. Albert Sechehaye, "Les problemes de la langue a la lumiere d'une theorie nouvelle," in
Revue Philosophique de la France et de I'Etranger, vol. 84 (1917), p. 3.
18. Basically, analogical change as a mode of explanation was invoked in order to account
for those linguistic forms which constituted apparent exceptions to exceptionless sound
laws.
19. Hermann Paul, Principles of the History of Language. tr. H. A. Strong (1890; repro College
Park: McGrath, 1970), pp. 4-5.
20. H. Osthoff, Das physiologische und psychologische Mement in der sprachlichen Formenbildung
(Berlin: Habel, 1879), p. 23.
21. Osthoff, p. 24.
22. Paul, p. 8.
23. Paul, p. 8.
24. CGL, p. 163.
25. CGL, p. 163.
26. For example, both the Neogrammarians and Saussure argued that one of the differences
between phonetic change and analogy consisted in the fact that analogy occurred
instantaneously and the new form did not directly replace the prior traditional form (the
two forms could co-exist for a period of time), while phonetic change involved a gradual
modification of sound during which the disappearance of the old sound was simultaneous
with, and inseparable from, the appearance of the new sound. For the Neogrammarians,
this lack of a direct relationship between the new analogical element and the old form
meant simply that there was no causal connection between the two events: creation by
analogy was independent of the elimination of any of the previously current forms. In
Paul's words, "An analogical new formation has no power to drive out of the field at a
single blow a pre-existent form of similar meaning" (Paul, p. 106). For Saussure, this
characteristic of analogy meant that it was altogether improper to speak of change in
reference to analogical phenomena: "At the moment when honor was born, however,
nothing was changed, since honor replaced nothing; nor is the disappearance of honos a
change, for this phenomenon is independent of the first. Wherever we can follow the
course of linguistic events, we see that analogical innovation and the elimination of the
older form are two distinct things, and nowhere do we come upon a transformation"
(CGL, p, 164). A new analogical formation was an innovation and not a change because
change presupposed a modification of something already in existence and not the creation
of something new on the basis of an existing pattern (e.g., oratorem:orator) or from already
existing material (honor from honorem). Saussure argued that an analogical formation was
synchronic not only because it occurred instantaneously, but also because, being based
on the grammatical structure of language, it always existed as a potentiality even before
it was spoken or heard. What was important for the organization of language was that
the elements and the patterns needed for an analogical formation exist before the form
itself was improvised. This patterned creativity of analogy was just one of the many
manifestations of the synchronic organization of language in the psyche. "It is wrong to
suppose that the productive process is at work only when the new formation actually
occurs. The elements were already there. A word which I improvise, like in-decor-able,
already has a potential existence in language ... " (CGL, p. 166). The concept oflinguistic
potentiality advanced here by Saussure would have been inadmissible for the
Neogrammarians, since it was clearly a conceptual construct, not a direct reflection of a
concrete, observable "fact". Saussure's formulation allowed him to emphasize the
basically synchronic nature of analogy, since the claim that all new analogical formations
exist in potentia meant that analogy, even when responsible for the creation of "new" forms,
was a function of the underlying grammar of language, the psychologically imprinted
arrangement of linguistic forms.
27. CGL, p. 166.
28. CGL, p. 165.
29. CGL, p. 172.
30. CGL, p. 81.
31. Jan Baudouin de Courtenay, "An Attempt at a Theory of Phonetic Alternations" (1894)
in A Baudouin de Courtenay Anthology, pp. 148-49.
32. In the Memoire, Saussure examined morphophonemic alternations in order to reconstruct

the underlying phonetic system. But there are significant differences between Brugmann's
use of this method and that of Saussure, and these differences cannot be reduced to
Saussure's ability to apply the arguments of internal reconstruction in a more
sophisticated and consistent fashion. For Saussure, regular sound alternations pointed
not only to prior phonetic changes (or the impossibility of certain kinds of transformations
which had been posited earlier), but also to pre-existent morphological and phonetic
regularities. Saussure was reconstructing not only the system of sounds which must have
existed in the past, but also the system of morphophonemic alternations. Moreover, he
used these reconstructions and the assumption of morphological regularity to posit the
existence of a phoneme which could not be attested in any of the then known Indo-
European languages, but which, according to Saussure, must have existed if the
morphology of the early language was symmetrical and regular. This aspect of the Memoire
was disputed by other linguists, including the Neogrammarians, but the very methods
used by Saussure and others working in the area of vocalism suggested the need to
investigate alternations.
33. CGL, p. 159.
34. CGL , p. 158.
35. CGL, p. 158.
36. CGL, p. 85.
37. Ludwik Fleck, Genesis and Development ofa SCientific Fact (Chicago: Chicago Univ. Press,
1979), p. 20.
38. F. de Saussure, "Notes inedites de F. de Saussure," in Cahiers F. de Saussure, Vol. 12
(1954), pp. 57-58.
39. Saussure, "Notes inedites," p. 56.
40. Godel, p. 43.
41. CGL, p. 8.
42. In his book on the history of structuralist thought, Frederic Jameson searches for even
more distant parallels and finds correspondences between Saussure's concept of a
linguistic fact and the crisis in twentieth-century physics. There too, he argues, the notion
was gaining ground that the nature of a phenomenon (e.g. the nature of light ) is determined
by the perspective from which it is observed (The Prison-House of Language; Princeton:
Princeton Univ.Press, 1972). Even if some of these correspondences are probably too
distant to be taken seriously, there can be little doubt that around the turn of the century,
the positivist epistemology thet relied on the notion of "fact" as a naturally given entity
was coming under increasingly severe attack and that Saussure's linguistics constituted
one part of this anti-positivist reaction. Despite their different disciplinary origins, these
new responses to positivism shared so many common features that it seems reasonable
to suspect that they were attempts to answer a problem central for late nineteenth-century
positivist thOUght.
43. Paul, pp. 2-3.
44. "The psychical organisms here described are the true media of historical development.
What has been actually spoken has no development. It is misleading to say that one word
has arisen from another word spoken at some previous time. The word - as a product
of our physical organs - disappears and leaves no trace when once the organs it has set
in motion have returned to their state of repose. And in the same way the physical
impression on the hearer passes away. If I repeat the same movements of the organs of
speech which I have once made a second, a third, or a fourth time, there is no physical
connection of cause between these four similar movements; but they are connected by the
physical organism, and by this alone. In this alone remains the trace of the past; in this
alone lie the conditions of historical development" (Paul, p.7).
45. Paul, p. 8
46. Paul, p. 9.
47. Paul, p. 2.
48. Paul, p. 2.
49. Baudouin de Courtenay, Anthology, p. 274.
50. Mikolaj Kruszewski, "On Sound Alternation" (1881) in Readings in Historical Phonology,
eds., Philip Baldi and Ronald Werth (University Park: Pennsylvania State Univ. Press,
1978), p. 64; for relevant excerpts from Naville, Meillet, and Ginneken, see also C.
Normand et aI., Avant Saussure. choix de textes (1875-1924) (Brussels: Editions Complexe,
1978).
51. Kruszewski, p. 83.
52. Kruszewski, p. 85.
53. Jan Baudouin de Courtenay, Dziela Wybrane (Warsaw: P.W.N., 1974), p. 165.
54. Baudouin de Courtenay, Anthology, p. 276-277.
55. Antoine Meillet, "Les lois du langage" in Revue intemationale de sociologie (1893), repro in
Normand, p. 31.
56. Albert Sechehaye, Programme et methodes de la linguistique theorique (Paris: Champion,
1908), p. 4.
57. Sechehaye, Programme, pp. 7-8.
58. Sechehaye. Programme, p. 6.
59. In her history of positivism and its dissolution, Barbara Skarga traces the difficulties
inherent in the positivist concepts of fact, law, and the use of abstraction, and derives the
constructivist conception of facts from problems similar to those described here. See
Barbara Skarga, Klopoty Intelektu: Miedzy Comte'em a Bergsonem (Warsaw: P.W.N.,
1975).
60. Saussure, "Notes inedites," p. 56.
61. We might speculate that this priority of the historical disciplines in the relativization of
the notion of a scientific fact might be explained in part by the comparative weakness of
the conventions regulating the use of abstraction in these sciences a high technical task
uncertainty? Abstraction had long beeen conventionalized in the natural sciences, and the
particular modes of abstraction appeared to their practitioners as unproblematic and
self-justifying procedures which were uniquely suited to reveal the essence of any given
phenomenon; in the historical sciences, abstraction was supposed to be used in order to
isolate various aspects of a phenomenon and to select those which needed to be explained
by laws. There was no agreement on what constituted the essential, as opposed to the
accidental, characteristics of any given historical event (or even what constituted an
event), while at the same time, the directive to formulate laws required that the existing
stock of descriptive knowledge be re-examined and re-classified according to some other,
but not commonly agreed upon, criteria. What in the natural sciences would normally
provoke a philosophical quarrel over the epistemological status of concepts and laws
would, in the historical sciences, appear as a central methodological problem requiring

both practical and philosophical solutions. To convince ourselves of this difference we
need only compare the role played in physics by Mach's arguments about the concept of
the atom with the significance for sociology of Durkheim's advocacy of the concept of a
social fact (not to mention "collective consciousness"). For where there was no strong
convention determining what were the proper modes of abstraction, and where there was
no recognized example of a "successful" selection of the characteristics used in the
formulation of laws, there were no unique accepted criteria for establishing the identity
of phenomena or for defining the basic character of the object under study.
62. Saussure, "Notes in&iites," p. 58.
63. Godel, p. 31.
64. Sechehaye, Programme, p. 48.
67. CGL, p. 8.
68. Godel, pp. 147 If.
70. Sechehaye, Programme, pp. 23-24.
75. Quoted in Rudolph Engler, Theorie et critique d'un principe Saussurien: l'arbitraire du signe
(Geneva: Imprimeries Populaires, 1962), p. 55.
76. One might object that after the introduction of the psychophysical definition oflanguage,
this dissolution ofiinguistics in psychology should also have affected historical linguistics.
And yet, after over a quarter of a century during which this definition was dominant in
the discipline, historical linguistics was in no danger of being incorporated into
psychology. If one examines the situation closely, however, it soon transpires that in this
respect static and evolutionary linguistics differ. The main aim of historical linguistics was
to describe and identify various kinds of linguistic transformations; throughout the
nineteenth century, the actual chronicle of concrete linguistic changes was the goal of most
research. Explanations of these changes, theoretical accounts of why and how they took
place, were relegated to the background. The relationship between psychological or
physiological processes and specific linguistic transformations could be investigated only
after these changes were described, various linguistic forms were compared and organized
chronologically, and classified according to types and systematized. Given this enormous
historical task and the secondary significance of theory for the Neogrammarians, the call
for psychological and physiological explanations of linguistic changes remained largely
unheeded until the turn of the century. Static linguistics, which had no traditions or models
of research to follow, was in a different situation. In order to develop such models it was
only reasonable to rely on the definition of the object under study, turning to the concerns
which this definition suggested.
77. CGL, p. 9; author's italics.
78. CGL, p. 113.
79. CGL, p. 67.
80. CGL, p. 112.

81. Andre Martinet, "Arbitraire linguistique et double articulation," in Cahiers F. de Saussure,
vol. 15 (1957), pp. 105-116.
82. CGL, p. 120.
83. CGL, p. 114.
84. CGL, p. 14.
85. "Of these two realms, that of speech is the more social, the other (language) is the more
completely individual. Language is an individual possession; all that enters language, that
is, that enters the mind, is individual" (Godel, p. 145).
Chapter VIII
I. F. de Saussure, Course of General Linguistics (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1959), p. 143

(hereafter CGL; see also ch. VII, note 16).
2. CGL, p. 161.
3. CGL, p. 14.
4. CGL, p. 98.
5. See, for example, the answers of Roman Jakobson et al. and also of Charles Bally and
Albert Sechehaye to the questions "QueUes sont les methodes les mieux appropriees a
un expose complet et pratique de la grammaire d'une langue que1conque?" in Actes du
Premier Congres International de Linguistes (Leiden: Nijhoffs, 1928), pp. 33-52.
6. Antoine Meillet, "F. de Saussure, Cours de linguistique generale" in Revue critique d'histoire
et de litterature, 1917, no. 4, pp. 49-51, and his compte rendu ofthe Cours in Bulletin de la
societe de linguistique de Paris, vol. 29, pp. 32-36; Maurice Grammont, compte rendu of the
Cours in Revue de langues romanes, vol. 59 (1916-17), pp. 402-410; J. Vendryes, "Le
caractere social du langage et la doctrine de F. de Saussure" in Journal de psychologie
normale etpathologique, vol. 18 (1921), pp. 6l7-624.
7. Robert Godel, Les sources manuscrites du Cours de linguistique generale de F. de Saussure
(Geneva: Droz, 1969), pp. 29-34.
8. The response to Otto Jespersen's 1916 review of the Cours, reprinted in Linguistica:
Selected papers in English, French and German (Copenhagen: Levin, 1933; pp. 109- 115)
can be found in Charles Bally "Langue et Parole," in Journal de psychologie normale et
pathologique, vol. 23 (1926). Criticisms of Emile Benveniste ("Nature de signe
linguistique," Acta linguistica, vol. 1; 1940) and ofE. Pichon ("La linguistique en France,"
Journal de psychologie normale et pathologique, vol. 33; 1937) were answered by Charles
Bally in "L'arbitraire du signe, valeur et signification," (in Lefranfais moderne, July 1940,
pp. 3- 16) and by Albert Sechehaye, Charles Bally and Henri Frei in "Pour I'arbitraire du
signe," in Acta linguistica, vol. 2 (1940-41), p. 165-169. Similarly, the Geneva school
answer to the criticisms of Meillet (see above note 6) and W. von Wartburg ("Das
Ineinandergreifen von deskriptiver und historischer Sprachwissenschaft," in Berichte iiber
die Verhandlungen der Sachsischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Leipzig. Phil.-hist.
Klasse, vol. 83; 1931, pp. 5-23) was given by Albert Sechehaye in "Les trois linguistiques
saussuriennes," in Vox Romanica, vol. 5 (1940), pp. 1-48.
9. Albert Sechehaye, "L'ecole genevoise de linguistique generale," in Indogermanische
Forschungen, vol. 44, pp. 217-241.
10. Georg Simmel, "The Stranger," in Sociology of Georg Simmel, tr. and ed. Kurt H. Wolff
(New York: Free Press, 1950); Robert E. Park, "Human Migration and the Marginal
Man," in American Journal of Sociology, May 1928; Everett Stonequist, The Marginal Man
(New York: Scribner, 1937). Both Stonequist and Park also refer to Frederick Teggart's
Processes of History (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1918) and Theory of History (New
Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1925).
II. Michael Mulkay, The Social Process of Innovation (London: Macmillan, 1972). Recently,
the association between marginality and innovation has been criticized by Thomas F.
Gieryn and Richard F. Hirsh ("Marginality and Innovation in Science," Social Studies of
Science, vol. 13 (1983), pp. 87-106). They are, however, completely unable to distinguish
"scientific importance" from the "cognitive discontinuity" which the association between
marginality and innovation entails. Given the rarity of such discontinuous innovations in
science, it is indeed unlikely that any such association would be statistically demonstrable.
The criticism that looked at from a certain point of view anybody can appear marginal
is more to the point, but it would be indeed a rare concept in the social sciences which
would not imply such ambiguity: are we to get rid of "legitimation" because from a certain
point of view many things can be shown to be both legitimate and illegitimate?
12. See E. Frankel, "Corpuscular Optics and the Wave Theory of Light: the Study and Politics
of a Revolution in Physics," in Social Studies of Science, vol. 6 (1976), pp. 141-84.
13. On the uneven reception of Saussure's Memoire see Tullio de Mauro, "Notes biogra-
phiques sur F. de Saussure in Cours de linguistique generale, Ch. Bally and A. Sechehaye,
eds. (Paris: Le Payot, 1973), pp. 328-29.
14. "Souvenirs de F. de Saussure concernant sajeunesse et ses etudes," in Cahiers Ferdinand
de Saussure, vol. 15 (1957), p. 22.
15. "Souvenirs de F. de Saussure," p. 24.
16. Claude Digeon, La crisefram;aise de la pensee allemande (1870-1914) (Paris: PUF, 1959),
p.375.
17. Digeon, p. 383.
18. Hans Aarsleff, "Breal vs. Schleicher," in From Locke to Saussure (Minneapolis: Univ. of
Minnesota Press, 1982).
19. Aarsleff, pp. 304-305.
20. For example, Breal's "Le progres de la grammaire comparee," in Memores de la Societe
de linguistique de Paris (1868), or the inaugural lecture at the Sorbonne of Abel Bergaigne,
La Place du Sanscrit et de la grammaire comparee dans l'enseignement universitaire (Paris:
1886).
21. A. Meillet, "Les langues a I'Ecole des Hautes Etudes," in Celebration du Cinquantenaire
de l'Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes (Paris: Champion, 1922), pp. 19-20.
22. For the history of the society see J. Vendryes, "Premiere societe linguistique," in Orbis,
vol. 4 (1955), pp. 7-21.
23. Meillet, p. 22.
24. Robert Gauthiot, "Ferdinand de Saussure," in Thomas A. Sebeok, ed., Portraits of
Linguists (Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1966), vol. 2.
25. On the formal and informal organization of French higher education and research in the
social sciences see Terry N. Clark, Prophets and Patrons: The French University and the
Emergence of the Social Sciences (Cambridge: Harvard Univ. Press, 1973).
26. "I never attended the lectures of Ferdinand de Saussure on general linguistics. But it is
known that F. de Saussure developed his ideas early on. The doctrines which he taught
explicitly in his lectures on general linguistics are the same as those which had already
inspired his teaching of comparative grammar twenty years earlier at the Ecole des Hautes
Etudes, and which 1 heard then. Now, when 1 find these ideas again, it often seems that
it would have been possible to predict them" (Antoine Meillet, compte rendu of the Cours
in Bulletin de Societe de linguistique de Paris, vol. 29, p. 33.)
27. Godel, p. 29.
28. Comparing Geneva and Paris, Albert Sechehaye writes: "When Fedinand de Saussure
returned in 189 I to his native city of Geneva to occupy a chair of comparative grammar
which was being created for him, he had to work ... in an environment less favorable to
linguistic endeavors" (Sechehaye, "L'Ecole genevoise," p. 217.)
29. Before the creation of the Cahiers Ferdinand de Saussure, Bally and Sechehaye published
primarily in French journals (Journal de psychologie normale et pathologique, Bulletin de la
Societe de linguistique de Paris, Revue des langues romanes, etc.), though on occasion, as in
the case of Sechehaye's review article about the activities of the school, they also
attempted to present their ideas to the German linguistic community.
Chapter IX
I. T.S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1962,
2nd ed., 1970), and The Copernican Revolution (New York: Random House, 1957); Paul
Feyerabend, Against Method (London: NLB , 1975).
2. Larry Laudan, Progress and Its Problems (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1977), Ch.
I and passim.
3. For example, Karl Popper, "Normal Science and Its Problems," in Criticism and the Growth
of Knowledge, ed. by Imre Lakatos and Alan Musgrave (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ.
Press, 1970), pp. 51-58.
4. 1 have not dealt here with a situation in which a new idea system is designed to resolve
conflicts between two or more systems which are contradictory but share at least some
problematics. This situation was not common in linguistics (though Schleicher's
evolutionary theory of linguistic development was an attempt to reconcile Bopp's theory
of agglutination with Schlegel's theory of internal flection) and deserves separate investi-
gation in other fields. What elements must be shared between such conflicting idea
systems in order for them to be perceived as contradictory yet reconcilable? What
continuities obtain in such situations and how are the discontinuities generated?
5. This belief originated with Karl Mannheim, who on this basis excluded all natural sciences
from the sphere of competence of sociology of knowledge. For an opposite point of view
see Robert K. Merton, "The Sociology of Knowledge" (1945), repro in Social Theory and
Social Structure (New York: Free Press, 1968), pp. 513-14. More recently, the opposition
to the sociology of scientific knowledge based on such a "rationality" argument has come
from Larry Laudan (op. cit., ch. 7) and has been countered by the arguments of Barry
Barnes and David Bloor (see Scientific Rationality: The Sociological Tum; Dordrecht:
Reidel, 1984).
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INDEX
Aarsleff, H., 242, 299n 258, 259, 293n, 294n, 296n

Abstraction, role in linguistics, 99, 101, Becker, C., 168
112, 149-152, 154-160, 163, 187, Ben-David, J., 71, 72, 274n, 275n,
203-205,210,212-216,218,219,257, 279-281n, 289n
258, 261, 285n, 296n Benfey, T., 53, 284n
Agglutinating languages, 40, 46, 47, 104 Benveniste, E., 79, 237, 245, 298n
Agglutination theory, 41-43, 47, 52, 61, Bergaigne, A., 79, 243, 299n
97, 98, 100, 106, 222, 254, 257, 259, Berlin, I., 275n
284n, 285n, 300n Berlin University (Kbnigliche Friedrich
Alternations, 190-197, 199,200,234,258, Wilhelms Universitat), 64, 65, 76, 81,
259, 262, 294n, 295n 132, 135, 141, 168,248,250, 289n
Amelung, A., 92 Bezold, F. von, 288n
Analogy, in language, 54, 55, 59-61, 90, Bezzenberger, A., 86,141, 281n, 289n
94,95,98-100,104,106-109, Ill, 113, Bierbach, Ch., 293n
114, 117, 125, 139, 153, 159, 163, 178, Bildung, ideal of, 36, 66, 171
184-190, 193, 197, 199,200,222,234, Blanc, 132
235, 240, 257-259, 262, 279n, 293n, Bloomfield, L., 292n
294n Bloomfield, M., 96, 281n
Arbuckle, J., 277n Bloor, D., 273n, 300n
Arens, H., 278n Bbckh, A., 67, 81
Ascoli, G. I., 32, 92, 95, 281n, 282n Bohlen, P. von, 33, 76
Aufrecht, 76 Bonn University, 33, 65, 66, 76, 132
Authority, in linguistics, 31,133-144,174, Bopp, F., 12,32,33,36,37,39-44,46,47,
242,244,245,247,249-251,266,268, 49,52,57,61,65,66,68-71,74,76,77,
270 81,82,86,112,132,141,221,242,251,
Authority, in science, 18-22,26, 27, 28, 254, 276-280n, 285n, 300n
30,63,64,80,82,84,122,123,126-129, Bourdieu, P., 28, 275n
133, 142, 146, 249, 265, 267-271 Bradke, P. von, 133
Autonomy, disciplinary, 35,138, 146, 175 Braune, W., 127, 128, 178,270
Autonomy of linguistics, 80, 82-85, 103, Breal, M., 32, 76, 78, 79, 176, 236,
133, 135, 172-175,222,227-229,231, 240-248, 280n, 299n
232,240, 244-247, 249, 266, 268, 269, Breslau University, 33, 65, 76, 79, 132
271 Brugmann, K., 90, 92-94, 96, 97,104,106,
Avenarius, R., 213 109, 112-114, 126-129, 133, 136, 137,
166,178, 190,191,221,239, 280-283n,
Baily, Ch., 145, 177,237,250, 298-300n 285-287n, 289n, 291, 293n, 294n
Babinger, F., 280n, 288n Burger, A., 237
Barnes, B., 273, 3000n Burkhardt, U., 135, 139, 288n, 289n
Bartsch, K., 135 Burnouf, Emile, 78
Baudouin de Courtenay, 1., 176, 179, 181, Burnouf, Eugene, 78, 79
191-194, 196,206-208,210,221,240,
314
Index 315
Careers, scientific, 22-24, 71, 72, 75-79, 256, 257; and agglutination theory, 57
88, 129, 264, 265, 288n; subversion Definition of language and selection of
and succession strategies in, 28 problematics in linguistics, 217-221,232
Cassirer, E., 38, 276n Delbriick, B., 76, 90, 97, 99, 107, 112,
Causal explanations, in linguistics, 59, 61, 116-118, 127, 128, 166, 277n,
103-105, 110-113, 116-120, 125, 281-286n,291n
147-162, 164, 171, 182-184, 187, 192, Delbruck, M., 13
203-206, 208-214, 224, 234, 257, 258, Diachrony, in linguistics, 102, 178,
260-262, 286n, 294n, 295n 187-190, 194-197,200,217,233,235,
Center and periphery, 27,28, 100,240,244, 250
245, 248-251, 267-270 Diez, F., 86, 132, 141,242
Chezy, A. L. de, 33, 78 Digeon, c., 240-242, 280n, 299n
Clark, T. N., 274n, 275n, 280n, 299n Dilthey, W., 37, 156, 165, 174,260, 276n
Classical philology" 72, 80-84, 88, 124, Divergence, cognitive, 9-13, 16, 17, 22,
134, 136, 137, 165, 167, 169,243 27-29, 129, 143, 144, 148, 164,236,270
Classical philology, university chairs of, Divergence, social, 9, 20, 22, 28, 29
130,131 Dowling, L., 275n
Classification of languages, 40, 45-47, 49 Duhem, P., 4,155, 197,260, 273n
Coleman, W., 2774n Durkheim, E., 155, 156, 176, 247, 260,
College de France, 33, 73, 77, 78 290n,296n
Collins, H., 12, 273n Duvau,245
Collins, R., 275n, 289n
Collitz, H., 91-93, 97,141, 281n, 282n Ebel, H., 76
Comparative linguistics, university chairs Ebel, W., 288n
of, 33, 34, 65, 66, 73-77, 84-87, 132, Ecole Normale Superieure, 73
133,135, 136, 144, 166,242,243 Ecole Poly technique, 71- 73, 77
Comte, A., 176 Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, 73, 78,
Conrad, J., 280n, 288n 79, 236, 242-245, 247-249, 299n
Constructivism, 156, 202, 213-216, 219, Ecole Speciale des Langues Orientales
232-234, 262, 290n, 296n Vivantes, 73, 78
Coseriu, E., 293n Ecole des Mines, 72
Crane, D., 5,6,9,21, 273n, 274n Ecole des Ponts et Chaussees, 72
Credibility, scientific, 121, 122 Edge, D., 14, 273n, 274n
Croce, B., 145, 155-157, 174, 206, 220, Elias, N., 273n
260, 291n Elite, scientific, 18-20, 23-27, 30, 31,
Crosland, M., 71, 280n 127-129, 133-136, 141, 142, 144, 146,
Curtius, G., 43, 53, 57-61, 75, 76, 81, 82, 175,238,244,247-249,251,264-270
87-89, 92-94, 96, 97, 115, 123, 124, Empiricism, 1,99,101,152,160,164,214,
126, 127, 129, 137, 195, 206, 257, 261, 253, 260
275n, 277, 279-284n, 287n Engler, R., 292n, 297n
Cuvier, G., 278n English philology, 134, 136, 137, 139
English philology, university chairs of, 75,
Darmesteter, A., 79, 243 131, 132, 135
Darmesteter, J., 243 Erlangen University, 76, 132
Darwin, Ch., 44, 277n Erlich, V., 8, 274n
Decay, linguistic, 38, 42-44, 47-49, Ettmayer, K. von, 181, 293n
51-53, 55, 57, 59, 61, 63, 94, 97, 98, Evolutionary explanations, 44, 48, 49, 259,
104-107, 109, 125, 138, 181, 182,254, 277n
316 Index
Eulenburg, F., 288n Hagstrom, W., 121, 122

Exemplar, 2, 253; Grimm's law as, 53 Halle University, 76, 79, 87, 132, 168
Hamann, J. G., 34
Fauconnet, 290n Hamilton, A., 33
Ferber, Ch., 288n, 289n, 291n Hase, Ch.-B., 73
Feyerabend, P., 300n Havet, L., 243
Fichte, J. G., 64, 70, 168 Hegel, G. W. F., 11,44,45,47-49,55,57,
Fick, A., 141 61, 178, 277n
Finck, F. N., 176 Heidbredder, E., 7, 274n
Fleck, L., 295n Heidelberg University, 79, 132, 135, 139
Frank, Othmar, 33, 280n Herbart, J. K., 107, 184, 285n
Frankel, E., 299n Herder, J. G., 34, 37, 275n
Frankfurt School, 23 Hermann, E., 292n
Frei, H., 237, 298n Hermann, G., 80, 81, 280n
Freiburg University, 75, 128, 132, 133, 139 Hermelink, H. 288n
Freud, S., 21 Hesse, M., 274n
Freytag, G. W., 76 Hirt, H., 99, 284n, 285n
Friedman, R. M., 5, 273n Hofer, A., 76, 86
Holton, G., II
Gabelentz, G. von, 176, 293n Holtzman, A., 135, 284n
Galton, F., 14 Hiibschmann, H., 127-129, 178
Gauthiot, R., 245, 299n Hughes, H. S., 155, 290n
Geison, G., 4, 5, 273n, 289n Humboldt, W. von, 40, 64, 65-68, 70, 71,
Geneva school, 12,31,144-146,177,233, 77, 168, 176, 276n, 279n, 280n, 285n,
235-237, 247-251, 268, 270, 271,298n, 293n
300n Husser!, E., 202
Geneva University, 248, 249, 300n
German philology, 67, 68, 72, 134-139, Idea systems, scientific, 3, 4, 6, 7, 10, II,
174 13-16,18,29,34,45,49,50,57,62,91,
Germanic Philology, university chairs of, 97, 144, 146, 148, 149, 162,63, 177, 180,
75, 131, 132, 135 181, 197, 198,200,210,216,217,219,
Germann, D., 288n 221,227,233,235,251,253-263,272,
Gieryn, T. F., 299n 292n, 300n; and intellectual trends 35,
Giessen University, 28, 75, 133 145, 202, 210, 216, 259-261; definition
Gilbert, G. N., 273n 1-2; and institutionalization 63-64, 89,
Ginneken, J. van, 206, 296n 264, 265-271
Godel, R., 237, 248, 292n, 293n, 295n, Idealist, see Neo-Idealist
297n, 298n, 300n Identity, of linguistics facts, 200-210,
Goethe, J. W. von, 37, 38, 51, 53, 276n 213-215,225, 258
Gottingen University, 79, 132, 141, 250 Inflectional languages, 40, 41, 46-48, 104
Grammont, M., 236, 245, 298n Institutionalization of linguistics, 29, 30,
Grassmann, H., 92, 96, 261, 283n 64,65,70,80,83-89,126, 133, 136, 145,
Greifswald University, 33, 76, 77, 86, 132 147, 165, 172, 173, 175, 233, 236,
Grimm, J., 32, 35, 36, 44, 49, 52, 82, 86, 242-246, 248, 264
141, 191, 275n, 276n Institutionalization of science, 3, 18, 19,
Grimm's law, 52, 92, 256, 283n 22, 27, 34, 121-123, 142, 264; and
Grober, G., 174 schools of thought, 26, 144
Gundlach, F., 288n Invisible colleges, 17
Index 317
Iordan, 1., 177, 287n, 292n 118, 119, 148, 153-157, 162,204-212,
Isolating languages, 40, 46, 47, 104 214,218,219,225,257,258,260,262,
278n, 296n
Jaberg, K., 292n Lazarus, M., 184, 285n
Jakobson, R., 292n, 298n Lefmann, S., 65, 275n, 279n, 280n
Jameson, F., 295n Legitimacy of linguistics, 80, 81, 83-85,
Jankowsky, K., 282n 89,100, 137,242,247,248,270,271
Jaspers, K., 170 Legitimation, of scientific contributions,
Jay, M., 274n 19-21, 24, 25, 35, 126-128, 136, 141,
Jena University, 43,76,87, 132 142, 175,242,243,245,249,264-267,
Jespersen, 0., 237, 275n, 281n, 292n, 298n 269,270
Jones, W., 32, 36 Legitimation system, dual, 24-26, 128, 174
Journals, scientific, 20, 21, 86, 127, 128, Leibniz, G. W., 39
133, 134, 144, 173, 174,243,248,265, Leipzig University, 75, 76, 80, 87,124,128,
269-271, 289n, 292n 129, 132, 134, 135, 136, 141, 178,234,
236-240, 245, 248
Karcevski, S., 237 Lenz, M., 288n
Kiel University, 132 Lerch, E., 162, 169, 291n
Kiparsky, P., 96, 277n, 282n Leskien, A., 90, 96,99,128,129,178, 284n
Klemperer, V., 171, 291n Levi, S., 79
Knorr-Cetina, K., 273n Lexis, W., 139, 289n
Koerner, E. F. K., 177, 292n Liard, L., 78, 280n
Kohler, R., 289n Liebig, J. von, 13, 28
Kolde, T., 288n Life-force, in language, 37,38,39,52, 276n
Koningsberg University, 33, 76, 132 Linguistic feeling (Sprachgefuhl), 55, 56,
Korting, G., 289n 59, 61, 104
Kosegarten, J. G. L., 33 Linguistics/philology relations, 45, 68,
Krantz, D., 5, 6, 21, 273n, 274n 80-89, 135-138, 161-163, 166-168,
Krauss, H., 248 171-175, 227, 24~ 246, 265-268, 271,
Kruszewski, M., 176, 179, 181, 191-194, 277n
196, 206-209, 258, 259, 296n Lorek, E., 162, 291n
Kuhfuss, W., 167, 291n Lot, F., 280n
Kuhn, A., 86, 127 Ludwig, 8
Kuhn, T. S., 6, 11, 14,91, 180, 181,252, Lyell, c., 44, 105
253, 274n, 282n, 293n, 300
Mach, E., 155, 199, 213, 260, 296n
Lakatos, 1., 11, 252 MacKenzie, D., 274n, 290n
Langles, 33, 73 McClelland, Ch. E., 279n
Language teaching reform movement, 167, Malmberg, B., 292n
168, 169 Malraux, A. B., 274n
Langue/parole dichotomy, 217, 221, 231, Mannheim, K., 35, 51, 275n, 277n, 300n
232, 235, 250, 271 Marburg University, 132
Lassen, Ch., 33, 141 Marginality and innovation, in science, 27,
Latour, B., 121, 122, 287n 238-240, 247, 268, 299n
Laudan, L., 252, 300n Martinet, A., 79, 229, 297n
Law of Palatals, 92, 93, 97 Martins. H .. 273n
Laws, in linguistics (see also sound laws), Marty, A., 176
38,44,48,49,54-61, 103, 105, 106, 109, Marx, K., 21, 44
318 Index
Mauro, T. de, 299n Noreen, A., 176

Mauss, M., 290n Normal science, 2, 6, 181
Meillett, A., 73, 78, 79,145,206,208-211, Norman, W., 57, 61, 276n, 279n, 283n,
213,217,218,236,242,243,245,247, 284n
249, 259, 296n, 298n, 299n Normand, c., 296n
Merton, R. K., 133, 289n, 300n
Methodological and philosophical ideas, Organic character of language, 36-39,
relations between, 107, 109, 110, 255, 41-45,49,51-53,61,68,103-105,125,
256,259 138, 181, 254, 260, 276n, 285n; vs.
Methodological and theoretical ideas, mechanical 37, 40, 276n
relations between, 58 - 61, 95, 100, 112, Ossowski, S., 10-13, 124, 274n, 287n
125,184, 191, 192,256-259 Osthoff, H., 90-94, 96,104,106,107,112,
Methodological, philosophical and 113, 116, 119, 127-129, 166, 167, 178,
theoretical ideas, relations among, 50, 185, 190, 239, 281n, 282n, 285-287n,
51,53,55,57,60-62,91-93,96, 100, 291n, 293n
106,109, 110, 112, 125, 141, 147, 180,
184, 199,200,205,216,217,233,254, Paradigm, 2, 6, 91, 96, 181, 238, 252, 253,
256-259, 261, 262, 283n 292n
Meyer, G ., 286n Paris, G., 176, 240-243
Meyer, L., 53 Park, R. E., 238, 298n
Meyer-Lubke, G., 181 Passy, P., 236
Misteli, F., 281n Paul, H., 90, 99, 102-104, 107, 108,
Modern philology, 137-139, 166, 167, 169 112-119, 127, 128, 141, 150, 151, 154,
Morrell, J. B., 5, 28, 273n 174, 176, 186, 187, 192,203,204,222,
Mounin, G., 275n 270, 281n, 282, 284-287, 290n,
Mulkay, M., 2, 14,238, 273n, 274n, 275n, 292-296n
282n,299n Paulsen, F., 279n, 280n
Muller, F., 282n Pedersen, H., 94, 282n
Muller, 0., 81 Philosophical and theoretical ideas,
Munich University, 33, 65, 76, 132, 135 relations between, 39, 42-45, 49, 50, 57,
Munster University, 75, 79, 132 101, 112, 118, 125, 141, 145, 148, 153,
162, 163, 183, 184, 187, 190, 194, 197,
Naville, A., 176, 206, 211, 296n 210, 220, 254, 255, 259
Neo-Idealist school, 30, 144-165, Philosophical assumptions in science, II,
170-175,205,216,220,221,246,258, 14,16,62,101,103,106,146,149,163,
260,261, 263, 267, 268-271; relations to 184, 190, 199, 200, 216-220, 233, 253,
structuralists, 145, 146 255, 259
Neogrammarians, 30, 43, 51,56,60,75,76, Phonetics, articulatory, 101
86, 90-120, 123-129, 134-154, Physiology, and linguistics, 10 1- 106,
158-160, 162-164, 166, 167, 174, 112-115, 147, 153, 218, 223, 224,
177 - 179, 181-190, 192- 195, 197, 199, 226-232, 246, 260, 271
200,203 - 206,213,215-223,226,228, Pichon, E., 237, 298n
230, 233-236, 238-240, 242, 244-246, Pickering, A., 273n, 289n, 290n
249, 254, 256-263, 265-268, 271, Pinch, T., 290n
281- 284n, 287n, 294n, 297n Poincare, H., 155
Neo-humanism, 64-66, 68, 69, 71, 75,80, Po1anyi, M., 6, 19, 274n
164,165, 168, 171, 172,264 Popper, K., 5, 9, 14,252, 274n, 300n
Niebuhr, H . R., 9, 274n Positivism, 101, 125, 147, 150, 152, 153,
Index 319
155, 164, 165, 170-174, 187,200,202, 69,72-74,76,78,87,131 - 133,135

211,213-216,234,259,260,262,290n, Saussure, F. de, 21, 31, 79, 92, 93, 97,102,
295n, 296n 144, 145, 156, 176-179, 181, 183,
Pot!, A., 76, 82, 87, 278n 187-190, 193-197, 199-203,208,210,
Poulhan, 213 211, 214-221, 226- 240, 244-251, 258,
Prague Linguistic Circle, 12, 17,235,262, 261,262,268,270, 282n, 292-300n
268 Scheler, M., 170
Priority, in science, 91, 239, 240 Schelling, F. W. von, 37, 70
Proportional groups, in analogical Scherer, W., 90,105, 106, 286n
formations, 107-108, 187, 188 Schlegel, A. W. von, 12,33,35,37,40,43,
Psychologism, in linguistics, 99, 101, 125, 45-47, 49, 52, 67, 76, 78, 276n
164, 165, 187 Schlegel, F . von, 12,32 - 35,36,39-43,45,
Psychology, and linguistics, 101 - 107, 109, 47, 49, 52, 67, 112, 275n, 276n, 278n,
112-115,147,151,153,154,156,158, 300n
163, 184-189,203,218,222-232,240, Schleicher, A., II, 43-51, 53-61, 76,
246, 257-260, 262, 271, 285n, 287n, 85-87,92-97, 103-105, 115, 129, 141,
297n 150, 172,221,242,254,255,257,259,
260, 277-279n, 282-285n, 299n, 300n
Quine-Duhem thesis, 50 Schleiermacher, F. D. E., 64,68,70, 168,
276n
Rask, R., 32, 52 Schmidt, J., 92, 95, 97, 98, 141, 282n,
Renan, E., 79, 240, 242 283n, 289n
Reputational system in science, 2, 19, Schneider, G., 8, 112, 286n
121 - 123, 126, 143 Schomann, 77
Revolutions, in science, 31,91,93,95, 176, Schramm, E., 291n
198, 235, 236, 238, 263 Schuchardt, H., 167, 281n, 291n
Revolution from above, 134-137, 143,266 Sebeck, T. A., 275n, 281n, 291n
Reward system, in science, 121 - 124 Sechehaye, A., 145, 177, 179, 183, 206,
Rickert, H., 156 21O-214,218,221-227,237,250,290n,
Ringer, F., 164, 165, 168, 274n, 279n, 291n 293n, 296-300n
Robins, R. H., 282n Sects, 9-10
Rocher, L., 82, 280n, 281n Seidel-Vollman, S., 138, 280n, 288n, 289n
Romance philology, 67, 134- 139, 145, 174, Seminars, in German universities, 75, 79,
269 88
Romance philology, university chairs of, Siebs, T., 288n
75, 131, 132, 133, 135 Sign, linguistic, 224, 225, 228-232, 246;
Romanticism, 34, 35, 37, 38,43,44,49,51, arbitrary character of, 229, 230, 232
63, 156, 220, 259, 26~ 275n, 276n Signijiant/signijie duality, 228-231, 250
Rostock University, 75, 132-133, 135 Shils, E., 18, 274n
Rousseau, J.-J., 275n Sievers, E., 128, 129
Ruckert, 76 Simmel, G., 165, 238, 298n
Skarga, B., 296n
Sacy, S. de, 70, 71, 73, 78 Slavic philology, university chairs of, 131,
Said, E., 275n 132, 134
Sanskrit, 32-36, 40, 41, 43, 65, 67, 70, 72, Societe de Linguistique, 236, 243-245, 248,
81-83,86,88,92,97,106,138,166,191, 249
239, 243, 276n, 277n, 278n Societe Ferdinand de Saussure, 237
Sanskrit, university chairs of, 33, 34, 65, Sommerfelt, A., 291n
320 Index
Sorbonne, Universite de, 73, 77, 299n Toennies, F., 165

Sorokin, P., 4, 273n Tiibingen University, 132, 139
Sound laws, 52-61, 90, 92-97, 10, 112, Turner, S., 80, 82, 280n
113, 117, 118, 124, 147-150, 153, 163,
195, 206-211, 215, 255-257; and Uniformitarianism, 105, 125, 138, 139,
agglutination theory 57, 97, 257, 259, 141, 166, 181-184, 190, 197,260,262,
278n; exceptionless character of, 94, 284n
96-99, 100, 106, 110, Ill, 117-119,
125, 141, 142, 148, 149, 234, 235, 256, Vendryes, J., 79, 236, 245,249, 298n, 299n
257, 266, 271, 282n, 283n, 293n; Verner, K., 92,96,97,99,240,255,261,
physiological explanation of, 112-119, 282n, 283n
148; psychological explanation of Vienna Circle, 8, 10
114-119, 148; as natural laws, 112, 118, Volbehr, F., 288n
119, 148,206, 286n, 287n Vossler, K., 144-153, 156-163, 166,
Specialization, in philology and linguistics, 169-171,173, 174,269, 290n, 291n
133, 135, 136, 142, 169-174,246,265,
267 Walras, L., 176
Spencer, H., 44 Wartburg, W. von, 237, 298n
Spranger, E., 170 Weber, A., 76
Steinthal, M., 42, 115, 184, 285n Weber, M., 155, 156, 165,202, 260, 290n
Stenzler, 33, 76 Weisz, G., 9
Stonequist, E. V., 238, 298n Wenig, 0., 288n
Strassburg University, 79, 132 Wertheimer, J., 248
Structuralism, 21,144,145-149, 155, 156, Wertheimer, M., 202
162, 163, 176-179, 184, 186,217,230, Wilbur, T. H., 282n, 288n
233,234,251,258,262,263,268,295n Whitley, R., 2, 19, 122, 273n, 274n, 287n
Svedelius, c., 176 Whitney, W. D., 76, 105, 115, 176,229,
Synchrony, in linguistics, 102, 178, 179, 240, 242, 286n
181-200, 216, 217, 221, 224-227, Windelband, W., 156, 165,206, 260
230-234, 236, 240, 244-246, 250, 258, Windisch, E., 78, 88, 275n, 280n, 281n
261,262,271,294n Windischmann, K. J., 33, 34, 81
Szacki, J., 17,24-26, 274n, 275n Winteler, J., 176, 287n
Woolgar, S., 121, 122, 273n, 287n
Tarde, G., 176 Wundt, W., 222-225, 285n
Taine, H, 213 Wurzburg University, 69, 70, 76, 132
Teggart, F., 298n
Tegner, E., 92, 97, 282n Ziman, J., 274n
Thomson, V., 92, 97 Znaniecki, F., 274n
Tobler, L., 118, 281n, 286n Zuckerman, H., 133, 289n
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SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT

SOCIOLOGY OF THE SCIENCES

G. B6hme, Technische Hochschule, Darmstadt

Managing Editor: R. D. Whitley

A MEMBER OF THE KLUWER "

DORDRECHT I BOSTON I LANCASTER I TOKYO

Amsterdamska, Olga, 1953-

Sociology of the sciences monographs)

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CHAPTER I: SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT:

CHAPTER II: THE IDEA SYSTEM OF THE EARLY

CHAPTER III: LINGUISTICS AT THE GERMAN

CHAPTER IV: THE NEOGRAMMARIAN DOCTRINE 90

CHAPTER V: THE NEOGRAMMARIAN REVOLUTION

CHAPTER VI: THE IDEALIST REACTION 144

CHAPTER VII: SAUSSURE'S REVOLUTION FROM

CHAPTER VIII: SCHOOLS ON THE PERIPHERY 234

CHAPTER IX: CONCLUSIONS 252

constraints on innovation, and the force of shared vocabularies, as-

Thus, while I attempt to reconstruct a certain "logic" of development in the

Reflecting on the processes of cognitive and social change in linguistics,

An earlier version of this work was prepared as a dissertation in sociol-

A sociology of scientific knowledge based on the assumption that the social

networks of shared beliefs which structure the formulation of research

scientific community at large, which can best help to understand the

Toward a Definition of Schools of Thought

implicitly in studies oflaboratory research schools such as those of Morrell

Though in a less explicit manner, the definitions proposed by Krantz and

The opposition of philosophical schools to the ideas of their contempo-

The creation of schools of thought in the natural sciences has sometimes

Proclamations of revolutionary intentions seem to be especially common

do seem to share one characteristic that might help us understand their

The Cognitive Divergence of Schools of Thought

Schools of thought have occasionally been compared with religious sects,

converted and the unconverted, or between present and future" (not to

The first type of divergence isolated by Ossowski refers to cases in which

The basic assumptions which Ossowski deems "unverifiable" have re-

According to Ossowski, a second condition for the formation of a school

question, but also to modify certain other elements of an idea system in

3. Substantive and Methodological Divergence

Finally, Ossowski identifies a third kind of divergence which could lead to

The Implications of the System of Cognitive Divergence

The methodological, philosophical, theoretical, and substantive beliefs that

for overall consistency and coherence, the individual elements of a scienti-

Schools of thought cannot be characterized by cognitive divergence alone.

Schools vs. Disciplines: Autonomy and Institutionalization

Unlike specialties and disciplines, schools of thought functioning within

While schools of thought do not meet these criteria of institutionalization,

competence in judging the scientific results reported by the members of a

Schools and the Legitimation of Scientific Results

It is commonly acknowledged that scientific communities are not egalitar-

The same thought can be found in Whitley's discussion of the role of

ty over the attribution of recognition, reputations, and resources, and is

in the context of modern institutionalized science attempt to publish such

Schools in Academic Science

The claim to legitimacy and authority of an emergent school of thought will

of a science and the transmission of scientific idea systems to succeeding

evaluations provided by academic colleagues, and which often select the

The Dual Legitimation System

The dependence of schools of thought and their members on access to