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From aspect to information structure: Non-aspectual functions of change of state markers in Austronesian and beyond

  • Lidia Federica Mazzitelli ORCID logo EMAIL logo
Published/Copyright: October 9, 2024

Abstract

This paper discusses a phenomenon that has so far received little attention in previous literature: the presence, in several languages from different branches of the Austronesian family, of polyfunctional markers, which combine an aspectual meaning of change of state with information and discourse structuring functions. In this study, based on a comparative analysis of fifty-two Austronesian languages, I show that polyfunctional change of state markers are distributed throughout the entire family, crosscutting the major typological and geographical divide between Western and Eastern Austronesian. I argue that the development of information and discourse structuring functions of change of state markers derives from applying the notions of current relevance and transition to new situation not to eventualities, but to elements of propositions, and I also suggest that this process may be universally valid and could explain the similar development of change of state markers into information and discourse structuring devices attested in non-Austronesian languages.

1 Introduction

In this paper, I discuss a phenomenon that has received little attention in the existing literature: the presence of polyfunctional markers, which combine an aspectual meaning of change of state with information and discourse structuring functions, in several languages from different branches of the Austronesian family. An example of such a marker comes from Lakurumau, an under-described Western Oceanic language spoken on New Ireland, Papua New Guinea, where the enclitic particle asang is found. As an aspect marker, asang encodes change of state, while its non-aspectual uses include the expression of contrast and emphasis. Examples (1a) and (1b) illustrate the polyfunctionality of asang. In (1a), asang modifies the predicate masai ‘(be) ripe’ with an aspectual function: it asserts that the predicated state of affairs holds at reference time and that it has come about as a result of a transition from a previous state of affairs of opposite polarity. I label this aspectual function as change of state (see the discussion in Section 2.1). In (1b), asang attaches to the directional axo(m) ‘far away; above’ and has no aspectual meaning. Instead, it strengthens and emphasizes the contrastive interpretation of the second clause (e.g. ‘The garden is not nearby. It is up there on the mountainside’).

(1)
Lakurumau (Western Oceanic; Papua New Guinea)
a.
A=masai asang !
3sg.s= ripe cos
‘[The fish] It’s cooked [now; implied: it was not before]!’ (Mazzitelli 2017: Lakurumau corpus; lox113)
b.
A uma sa-gu ka=wit ke=faasilik, a
art plant.garden al.poss-1sg 3sg.s=neg 3sg.s=near art
uma sa-gu axo=sang lo paain=a wut.
plant.garden al.poss-1sg dir.above=cos loc side=art mountain
‘My garden is not nearby, my garden is up there on the mountainside.’ (Mazzitelli 2017: Lakurumau corpus; lox154)

Markers with similar aspectual semantics, morphosyntactic characteristics (enclitics with few or no restrictions in the choice of their lexical host), and non-aspectual functions to the Lakurumau asang are well documented in descriptions of other Austronesian languages. One example is the enclitic =te ‘completive; contrastive focus’ in Bantik (Sangiric; Utsumi 2020) and the enclitic na’a ‘perfect; marker of contrast’ in Longgu (Southeast Solomonic; Hill 1992); these two languages, despite their common family affiliation, are quite distant from each other genetically, geographically and typologically. Although descriptions of polyfunctional aspect markers in individual Austronesian languages do exist, no comparative study has been conducted.[1] As a result, several aspects of this phenomenon remain unclear, such as the distribution of these markers within the Austronesian family and the relationship between their change of state semantics and their non-aspectual uses.

In this paper, I address these unanswered questions by analyzing a sample of 52 languages belonging to all major branches of Austronesian (Table 1).[2] The paper is organized as follows: in Section 2, I discuss the semantics of change of state, which I define as a grammatical aspectual operation based on two notions: current relevance and transition to a new situation. In Section 3, I present the non-aspectual functions of the analyzed markers in the sample languages. In Section 4, I provide examples of similar polyfunctional markers in languages outside the Austronesian family. In Section 5, I argue that the development of information and discourse structuring functions in change of state markers derives from the application of notions of current relevance and transition to a new situation not to eventualities, but to elements of propositions. I also suggest that this process may be universally valid and could explain the similar development of change of state markers into information and discourse structuring devices attested in language families other than Austronesian. In Section 6, I draw conclusions and present further research directions and needs.

Table 1:

The sample languages.a

Language ISO-393-3 Genetic classification & location
Western Austronesianb

Bunun bnn Formosan (Taiwan)
Puyuma pyu Formosan (Taiwan)
Dupaningan Agta duo Northern Luzon (Luzon, Philippines)
Ilocano ilo Northern Luzon (Luzon, Philippines)
Cebuano ceb Central Philippines (Philippines)
Tagalog tgl Central Philippines (Philippines)
Kimaragang kqr Dusunic (North-East Borneo, Malaysia)
Paku pku East Barito (Central Kalimantan, Indonesia)
Kadorih otd West Barito (Central Kalimantan, Indonesia)
Indonesian/Malay ind/msa Malayic (Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore)
Gayo gay Northwest-Sumatra-Barrier Islands (Sumatra, Indonesia)
Bantik bnq Sangiric (Sulawesi, Indonesia)
Tajio tdj Tomini-Tolitoli (Sulawesi, Indonesia)
Pendau ums Tomini-Tolitoli (Sulawesi, Indonesia)
Tondano tdn Minahasan (Sulawesi, Indonesia)
Tukang Besi bhq Muna-Buton (Sulawesi, Indonesia)
Muna mnb Muna-Buton (Sulawesi, Indonesia)
Makassarese mak South Sulawesi (Sulawesi, Indonesia)
Buru mhs Central Maluku (Buru, Indonesia)
Javanese jav Javanese (Java, Indonesia)
Kéo xxk Bina-Lembata (Flores, Indonesia)
Sumbawan smw Sasak-Sumbawa (Sumbawa, Indonesia)
Kambera xbr Sumba-Hawu (Sumba, Indonesia)
Tetun Dili tdt Timor-Babar (Timor Leste)

South Halmahera-West New Guinea

Ambai amk South Halmahera-West New Guinea (Papua, Indonesia)
Ambel wgo South Halmahera-West New Guinea (Papua, Indonesia)
Wooi wbw South Halmahera-West New Guinea (Papua, Indonesia)

Oceanic

Paluai plq Admiralties (Mussau, PNG)
Manam mva Western Oceanic, North New Guinea (Manam Island, PNG)
Lakurumau lxm Western Oceanic, Meso-Melanesian (New Ireland, PNG)
Mandara tbf Western Oceanic, Meso-Melanesian (New Ireland, PNG)
Bola bnp Western Oceanic, Meso-Melanesian (New Britain, PNG)
Vitu wiv Western Oceanic, Meso-Melanesian (New Britain, PNG)
Nakanai nak Western Oceanic, Meso-Melanesian (New Britain, PNG)
Tolai (Kuanua) ksd Western Oceanic, Meso-Melanesian (New Britain, PNG)
Longgu lgu Central-Eastern Oceanic, Southeast Solomonic (Guadalcanal, Solomon Is.)
Toqabaqita mlu Central-Eastern Oceanic, Southeast Solomonic (Malaita, Solomon Is.)
Kwaio kwd Central-Eastern Oceanic, Southeast Solomonic (Malaita, Solomon Is.)
Nalögo nlz Reef Santa Cruz (Santa Cruz, Solomon Is.)
Engdewu ngr Reef Santa Cruz (Santa Cruz, Solomon Is.)
Vaeakau-Taumako piv Central-Eastern Oceanic, Polynesian Outlier (Reef Islands, Solomon Is.)
Mokilese mkj Central-Eastern Oceanic, Micronesian (Micronesia)
Nafsan erk Central-Eastern Oceanic, North-Central Vanuatu (Efate, Vanuatu)
Ahamb ahb Central-Eastern Oceanic, North-Central Vanuatu (Malakula, Vanuatu)
Nahavaq sns Central-Eastern Oceanic, North-Central Vanuatu (Malakula, Vanuatu)
Mwotlap mlv Central-Eastern Oceanic, North-Central Vanuatu (Motalava, Vanuatu)
Belep yly Central-Eastern Oceanic, New Caledonian (New Caledonia)
Nêlêmwa nee Central-Eastern Oceanic, New Caledonian (New Caledonia)
Fijian fij Central-Eastern Oceanic, Central Pacific, Fijian (Fiji)
Niuean niu Central-Eastern Oceanic, Polynesian (Niue)
Tokelauan tkl Central-Eastern Oceanic, Polynesian (Tokelau)
Māori mri Central-Eastern Oceanic, Polynesian (Aotearoa New Zealand)
  1. aThe languages are listed from north-west to south-east. bThroughout this paper, following Himmelmann (2020), I use “Western Austronesian” as a cover term for “all Austronesian languages spoken in Taiwan, the Philippines, mainland Southeast Asia, western Indonesia (Sulawesi and all islands to the west of it), Borneo and Madagascar, and also including Palauan and Chamorro” (Himmelmann 2020: 7). Western Austronesian languages do not form a genetic unity, but rather a typological unity, contrasting with Eastern Austronesian languages (Oceanic and the South Halmahera-North New Guinea languages; Adelaar 2005) in a number of typological parameters, the most dramatic one being their complex voice system, absent or at least greatly reduced in the Eastern languages.

2 Defining the field of inquiry: change of state markers

All the markers I analyze in this paper have the same aspectual function: they assert the establishment of a new state of affairs, which holds at reference time and is the result of a recent transition from a previous state of affairs of opposite polarity. I have labeled this function change of state (COS) and, henceforth, refer collectively to the morphemes analyzed in this paper as COS markers (see Table 2).

Table 2:

The analyzed markers.

Language Morpheme and gloss in the source materials Reference
Western Austronesian

Bunun =in ‘perfective’; ‘iamitive’ De Busser 2009: 224–229; Chan and Jiang 2020a, 2020b
Puyuma =la ‘perfective’ Teng 2008: 117–118
Dupaningan Agta =dan ‘already; now’ Robinson 2011: 200
Ilocano =(e)n ‘already; now’ Rubino 1997: 321
Cebuano =na ‘already’ Tanangkingsing 2013
Tagalog =na ‘now/already’ Schachter and Otanes 1972: 416
Kimaragang no ‘completive’ Kroeger 2021a, b
Paku haut ‘already’ Diedrich 2018: 133
Kadorih jadi ‘resultative perfect’ Inagaki 2013: 104
Indonesian/Malay sudah ‘aspect’; ‘iamitive’ Sneddon et al. 2010: 204; Olsson 2013: 4
Gayo nge ‘perfect; already’ Eades 2005: 240
Bantik =te ‘completive’ Utsumi 2020
Tajio =mo ‘completive’ Mayani 2013: 107-110
Pendau =mo ‘perfective’ Quick 2007: 586
Tondano =mow ‘completive’ Brickell 2014: 204
Tukang Besi -mo ‘perfective’ Donohue 1999: 171
Muna -mo ‘perfective’ van den Berg 1989: 306
Makassarese =mo ‘perfective’ Jukes 2005: 671
Buru haik ‘perfective; already’ Grimes 1991: 234
Javanese w(e/i)s ‘already’ Vander Klok and Matthewson 2015
Kéo négha ‘perfect; perfective’; ka ‘perfect’ Baird 2002: 307–313
Sumbawan mo ‘inchoative’ Shiohara 2013: 175
Kambera =ka ‘perfective’ Klamer 1998: 52
Tetun Dili ona ‘anterior’ Williams-van Klinken et al. 2002: 75

South Halmahera-West New Guinea

Ambai amba ‘perfect’, to ‘perfect’ Silzer 1983: 220
Ambel to ‘iamitive’;

pomá ‘emphatic iamitive’
Arnold 2018: 413
Wooi to ‘perfective’ Sawaki 2016: 99

Oceanic

Manam -doi ‘completive’ Lichtenberk 1983: 202
Paluai =an ‘perfect’ Schokkin 2020: 185
Lakurumau asang ‘change of state’ Own fieldwork
Mandara te ‘completive’ Hong and Hong 2003: 58
Bola pali ‘already’ van den Berg and Wiebe 2019: 138
Vitu t[e/u/i] ‘perfect’ van den Berg and Bechet 2006: 104
Nakanai -ti ‘perfective’ Johnston 1980: 71
Tolai (Kuanua) tar ‘perfect’ Mosel 1984: 109
Longgu na’a ‘perfect’ Hill 1992: 145
Toqabaqita naqa ‘perfect’ Lichtenberk 2008: 208
Kwaio no’o ‘perfect’ Keesing 1985: 30
Nalögo =p[m]e ‘change-of-state’ Alfarano 2021: 340
Engdewu =pme ‘change of state’ Vaa 2013: 371
Vaeakau-Taumako ko ‘inceptive’ Næss and Hovedhaugen 2011: 292
Mokilese ne ‘already’ Harrison 1976: 184
Nafsan =pe ‘perfect’ Krajinović 2019: 29; Thieberger 2006: 255
Ahamb nog ‘already; perfect’ Rangelov 2020: 290
Nahavaq ndoh ‘perfect’ Dimock 2009: 180
Mwotlap ma[y/l] ‘accompli’; ‘iamitive’ François 2003: 118

Olsson 2013: 18
Belep âmu= ‘perfect’ McCracken 2012: 342
Nêlêmwa [k/x]u ‘perfect’ Bril 2016: 76
Fijian ‘contrast (past)’ Schütz 2014: 42
Niuean kua ‘inchoative perfect’ Matthewson et al. 2015
Tokelauan kua ‘inchoative perfect’ Hooper 1996: 18
Māori kua ‘perfect’ Bauer 1993: 430

Admittedly, the term “change of state” is ambiguous, as it has been used to denote different things in the literature. For example, both the lexical semantics of verbal roots such as the English words redden and ripen (Koontz-Gaborden 2007) and the grammatical function of markers such as the Yoruba and Mandarin Chinese le (Bisang and Sonaiya 1997; Li et al. 1982) have been referred to as change of state. Here, I understand change of state as a grammatical aspectual operation defined by two semantic notions: current relevance and (recent) transition to a new situation. Change of state markers assert a state of affairs that holds at reference time and is pictured as the result of a recent transition from a state of opposite polarity (see examples (2a) to (2d)). As example (2d) shows, COS markers give rise to an interpretation incorporating “no longer” when combined with negation.

(2)
a.
Puyuma (Formosan; Taiwan)
Bulray =la na ruma’.
beautiful=perf def.nom house
‘The house has become clean.’ (Teng 2008: 118)
b.
Dupaningan Agta (Northern Luzon; Philippines)
Ma-singgat i d<in>ekat=aye im na-longsot= dan.
adj-tasty def <comp>rice.cake=this but adj-spoil=already
‘These rice cakes were tasty, but they are spoiled now.’ (Robinson 2011: 233)
c.
Kwaio (Southeast Solomonic; Solomon Islands)
E mou no’o.
3sg.s broken perf
‘It’s broken [now/already; implied: it was not before]’ (Keesing 1991: 300)
d.
Javanese (Javanic; Indonesia)
Aku wis ora ngeleh.
1sg already neg hungry
‘I’m no longer hungry.’ (Vander Klok and Matthewson 2015: 197)

The definition of change of state I offer in this paper only considers the behavior of COS markers in combination with stative predicates, as shown in examples (2a) to (2d). This does not mean COS markers do not also interact with dynamic predicates. In example (3) from Lakurumau, the particle asang modifies the dynamic predicate waan ‘go’, resulting in an immediate future interpretation.

(3)
Lakurumau (Western Oceanic; Papua New Guinea)
Maa=daa waan asang , a bina ka=pu daavui!
1du.excl.s=irr go cos art place 3sg.s=epistemic rain
‘We will go now, it might rain!’ (Mazzitelli 2017: Lakurumau corpus; lox039)

However, the study of the interaction between COS markers and dynamic predicates would require the analysis of several detailed factors, such as the actionality class of specific verbs and their temporal specifications, and is therefore far too extensive to be undertaken for this paper. The majority of the grammatical descriptions consulted for this study do not reach this level of detail when discussing the semantics of aspectual markers, making a true comparison impossible. For this reason, in this paper I restrict myself to examining the interaction between change of state and stative predicates.

The markers I analyze as expressing change of state receive different glosses in the source materials, such as perfect, perfective, already, now, completive, change of state, inchoative, and iamitive (see Table 2).[3] This implies that these markers may be instances of different grammatical categories. However, this is not a problem for the present analysis: I do not claim that all the markers discussed here are instances of the same grammatical category (e.g. the perfect). I only claim that they all have at least one aspectual function in common: they express change of state when interacting with stative predicates. This does not imply the creation of a putative change of state grammatical category, to which all the sample markers belong and that is distinct from the perfect, the completive, or “already.” Indeed, the hypothesis that all the sample markers belong to the same grammatical category is an intriguing one. However, it is a hypothesis I cannot prove now: to do so, I would need to analyze their interaction not only with stative predicates but with dynamic predicates of different actionality classes, too (see Krajinović 2019 for an analysis of Oceanic perfect markers). Therefore, I take the definitions in the descriptive materials I have consulted at face value and allow for the possibility that the sample markers may be instances of different grammatical categories (i.e., the completive, the perfect, and “already”): what is relevant for my analysis is only the marker’s ability to express change of state when modifying stative predicates.

2.1 Transition to a new situation and current relevance

Change of state is defined in terms of two notions: transition to a new situation and current relevance. The first captures the temporal succession of two states of opposite polarity: the asserted resulting state is inherently defined as new in opposition to the preceding one, necessarily discontinued, and therefore old. The transitional denotation is what differentiates change of state, which implies that the new state has come into being relatively recently, from a mere resultative, where there is no such implication of a recent transition, as can be seen in the Lakurumau examples (4a) and (4b).

(4)
Lakurumau (Western Oceanic; Papua New Guinea)
a.
Resultative
A laplap a=rama-taai.
art cloth 3sg.s=res-tear
‘The cloth is torn.’ [no indication of when the event of the cloth becoming torn took place]
b.
Change of state
A laplap a=rama-taai asang.
art cloth 3sg.s=res-tear cos
‘The cloth is now/already torn.’ [it has gotten torn recently] (author’s field notes; elicitation with Mrs. Dinah Gurumang on 14.05.2019)

The notion of current relevance captures the assertion that the predicated state holds at reference time. The temporal reference need not be anchored to the actual present, deictically intended as the time of speech, but rather to any point in time that is established as the reference time in the discourse universe. Thus, for example, a sentence such as, By nine o’clock on 10th June 1949, all the guests were drunk, uttered in 2024, establishes the temporal coordinates “10th June 1949” and “nine o’clock” as the reference time and asserts that the state of “being drunk” is still relevant at this point in time.[4] In this sense, current relevance is actually to be interpreted as “reference time relevance;” see the Toqabaqita examples in (5a), where the asserted relevant state is in the deictic present, and (5b), where the relevant state is in the deictic future.

(5)
Toqabaqita (Southeast Solomonic; Solomon Islands)
a.
Araqi-a e fula-toqo-ku naqa.
be.old.man-nmlz 3sg.nfut arrive-test-1sg.o perf
‘[A man speaking:] Old age has caught up with me.’
b.
Iu, manga na ku mae sui naqa, kamaroqa moka
ok time rel 1sg.nfut die comp prf 2du 2du.seq
qolo-toqo suli nau.
arrange-test prol 1sg
‘[A dying man speaking:] OK, when I have died, you will measure me [so that the addressees could dig a grave of the right size].’
(Lichtenberk 2008: 710)

Now, current relevance is not only a semantic aspect-temporal notion: it also has a discourse-pragmatic function, as Dahl and Hedin (2000) point out (see also Li et al. 1982 on Mandarin le):

“[In some cases] “current relevance” […] does not mean primarily that the direct result of the event is still valid, rather it means that the event has repercussions of some kind for the participants of the discourse situation. In contrast to the prototypical cases of resultative perfects above, these repercussions are not directly derivable from the meaning of the verb. In many cases, one has to rely on specific knowledge about the situation or about some convention. Thus, beating a gong does not leave any lasting physical results, but a statement like [The gong has sounded] may be understood to mean that it is time to have dinner, or that a round in a boxing match is over. […] To account for [such examples] we need a concept of current relevance which is not only or even primarily a condition on the world, as in the traditional understanding in terms of the “continuance of a result”, but also as a condition on the discourse, in that the speaker portrays the consequences of an event as somehow essential to the point of what he is saying.” (Dahl and Hedin 2000: 391–392)

Example (6) from Tajio illustrates the dual semantic and pragmatic nature of current relevance. Semantically, the predicate modified by the COS marker =mo asserts that the state of affairs holds at the reference time: when the speaker entered the room, the rice had been (and still was) cooked. Pragmatically, the state of being cooked is presented as a necessary condition for the following event, that is, the speaker being able to ladle out the rice.

(6)
Tajio (Tomini-Tolitoli; Indonesia)
Touk non-asa mao i avu ni-ita=’u te=aniong
after av.r-sharpen go loc kitchen uv.r-see=1sg.gen nom=rice
no-ngongo=mo touk mao ni-suyuk=mo te=aniong.
stativ.r-cooked=comp after.that uv.r-ladle=comp nom=rice
‘After (I) sharpened (the axe), I went to the kitchen and I saw that the rice had been cooked. After that I ladled the rice out.’ (Mayani 2013: 107-108)

In Section 4, I argue that the non-aspectual functions of COS markers have developed from the notions of transition to a new situation and current relevance being applied to elements of propositions (rather than to eventualities).

2.2 NSIT and iamitives

In previous literature, aspect markers with the same aspectual semantics and geographical distribution as those discussed in this paper have been classified as instances of two new grammatical categories: the NSIT (‘new situation markers’; Ebert 2001; Jenny et al. 2015) and the iamitive (Dahl and Wälchli 2016; Dahl 2022; Olsson 2013). The term NSIT ‘new situation (marker)’ was coined by Ebert (2011), who uses it as a descriptive label for a class of aspect markers found in the Tibeto-Burman Kiranti languages, spoken in Nepal, Bhutan, and India. Jenny et al. (2015: 98–99) adopt Ebert’s label NSIT and use it in their description of the typological properties of Austroasiatic languages. They define NSIT as “an aspectual category widespread in Southeast Asia which expresses that a situation has been established after a change of state”. The term iamitive – derived from the Latin iam ‘already’ – was coined by Olsson (2013). In his work, which also focuses on languages spoken in Southeast Asia, Olsson defines the iamitive as an aspectual category encoding “the notion of a new situation that holds after a transition” (2013: 43). Both the term NSIT and iamitive have since been used in descriptive and typological literature; Gil (2015) lists the presence of iamitives as a characterizing feature of the so-called Mekong-Mamberamo linguistic area, which covers much of Southeast Asia and the western part of New Guinea.

The markers I describe in this paper fit the profile of both iamitives and NSIT; indeed, Olsson (2013) and Dahl and Wälchli (2016) cite the Indonesian marker sudah and the Mwotlap marker may, which are both included in my sample, as examples of iamitives. However, I have decided not to use either iamitive or NSIT as labels in this paper, based on the fact that to claim all markers in my sample as iamitives or NSIT would mean they are all exponents of the same grammatical category: as pointed out in Section 2.1, I do not have enough data to make such a claim. Moreover, as Vander Klok and Matthewson (2015) and Krajinović (2019) state regarding iamitives – and Jenny et al. (2015: 99) for NSIT – no clear consensus has been reached on the diagnostic criteria that should be used to distinguish iamitives and NSIT from functionally similar categories such as the perfect and “already.” According to Krajinović, in the absence of clear diagnostic criteria, the decision to label a particular marker as iamitive rather than perfect or “already” would be arbitrary (Krajinović 2019: 139); the same can be said for NSIT.

3 Non-aspectual functions of COS markers in the sample languages

Most of the COS markers in my sample only have an aspectual function. Polyfunctional markers are found in only twelve languages (Table 3).

Table 3:

Non-aspectual meaning of the sample COS markers.

Language Morpheme Non-aspectual functions (as described in the source materials) Reference
Ilocano =(e)n Contrast; “marking importance” Rubino 1997: 321ff
Kimaragang no Exhaustive focus; emphasis Kroeger 2021a, b
Bantik =te Contrastive focus Utsumi 2020
Tajio =mo Focus Mayani 2013: 109
Pendau =mo Contrast; highlighting Quick 2007: 407; 586
Tondano =mow Certainty Brickell 2014: 204
Muna -mo Emphasis van den Berg 1989: 207
Longgu na’a Contrast Hill 2016: 355
Toqabaqita na(qa) Contrast; participant shift Lichtenberk 2008: 210; 365
Kwaio no’o Topicalization; foregrounding Keesing 1991
Lakurumau (a)sang Contrast; emphasis, shift/new topic Own fieldwork
Nalögo =p(m)e Contrast Alfarano 2021: 341

Despite their relative rarity, polyfunctional COS markers are distributed throughout the entire family, crosscutting the major typological and geographical divide between Western and Eastern Austronesia. They tend to occur in clusters of closely related or geographically contiguous languages, with three main clusters found: languages of the Philippines and North-East Borneo (Malaysia); languages of Sulawesi (Indonesia); and languages of Guadalcanal, Malaita, and Makira – three islands in Solomon Islands. Formal cognacy is not present at the family level but at the cluster level: COS markers have the phonological shape =n[V] in the Philippines/Borneo languages; =mo in the Sulawesi languages, except for Bantik; and =na[‘V] in the Guadalcanal/ Malaita/Makira languages.

Morphologically, all polyfunctional COS markers in the sample are enclitics and can attach to any type of lexical host. Some of them, such as Ilocano =(e)n and Tajio =mo, have restrictions regarding their position in the clause: they always occur in second position, directly following the leftmost element. Crucially, the morphological flexibility of COS markers is not limited to elements in predicate position. This specification is important because the Austronesian languages have a notoriously labile distinction between nouns and verbs. Virtually any nominal root can be used as a predicate and can take person indexing as well as tense, aspect, and mood marking: see examples (8a) and (8b) from Lakurumau, where the lexical item skul ‘school’ is used as a noun in (8a) following a preposition and as a verb in (8b), with person indexing.

(8)
Lakurumau (Western Oceanic; Papua New Guinea)
a.
Di=waan-aai lo skul.
3nsg.s=go-du loc school
‘They two went to school.’ (Mazzitelli 2017: Lakurumau corpus; lox226)
b.
Naadi xaavus di=skul.
3pl all 3nsg.s=school
‘They all attend school.’ (Mazzitelli 2017: Lakurumau corpus; lox203)

One might think that COS makers only attach to non-verbal roots when these are used predicatively and are therefore functionally verbs. However, this is not the case, as example (9) from Kimaragang shows. In (9), the noun phrase I=Jim, Jim is clearly non-predicative – it is the subject of the verbal form minanakaw ‘steal’. Additionally, the marker no performs a non-aspectual function, which Kroeger (2021a) labels as ‘focus’.[5]

(9)
Kimaragang (Dusunic; Malaysia)
I=Jim no o minanakaw di=karabaw nu.
nom=Jim foc nom av:past:steal acc=buffalo 2sg.gen
‘It was Jim (and no one else) who stole your buffalo(es).’ (Kroeger 2021a)

As well as having non-aspectual functions in the modification of non-predicative elements, COS markers can be used with non-aspectual functions on predicates. For instance, in example (10) from Tondano, the COS enclitic =mow does not encode change of state, rather it “encodes a sense of certainty” (Brickell 2014: 426).

(10)
Tondano (Minahasan; Indonesia)
Sè=ma-e-laa= mow ma-e-kè’èèt waki akel.
3pl.p=av.dyn-irr-go=compl av.dyn-irr-extract.sap to.dist sugar.palm.tree
‘They will go (to) collect palm sugar sap from the palm sugar tree.’ (Brickell 2014: 425)

In the remainder of this paper, however, I will only focus on the interaction of COS markers with non-verbal elements, as this is the environment where their non-aspectual function is most evident.

3.1 Ilocano and Kimaragang

Ilocano is a Northern Luzon language spoken in the Philippines, on Luzon, and Kimaragang is a Dusunic language spoken in North-Eastern Borneo (Malaysia). I group them together here because of the close genetic relationship between the Dusunic and Central Philippines languages (Adelaar 2005: 21; Kroeger 2005: 397). Their COS markers, Ilocano =(e)n and Kimaragang (=)no,[6] are enclitic particles that always occur in second position, that is, immediately after the leftmost constituent (Kroeger 1998). They are cognates and reflect the Proto-Malayo-Polynesian aspect particle *dana ‘already’ (Kaufman 2011, 2024).[7]

Ilocano =en (=on; =n) has an emphatic, contrastive, and counter-expectational function. Rubino (1997: 323) observes that it is “used extensively as a contrastive marker, marking the importance of the word to which it attaches, while singling it out. […] With the independent pronouns or demonstratives, the enclitic is contrastive, singling out the referent with regard to the possible set of referents that may be involved.” In example (11a), =en only has an aspectual value; in (11b), it singles out the nominal constituent Laoag, eliciting a contrastive reading. Similarly, in (12a), =(e)n contrasts the marked constituent with the set of alternative referents that may be involved (‘you’, ‘someone else’). In (12b), =(e)n highlights the surprise of the speaker, who did not expect the hearer to be married.

(11)
Ilocano (North Luzon; Philippines)
a.
Napan=en idiay Laoag
went=already there Laoag
‘He has already gone to Laoag.’
b.
Napan idiay Laoag=en.
went there Laoag=contr
‘It was Laoag he went to.’ (Rubino 1997: 323)
(12)
Ilocano (North Luzon; Philippines)
a.
Siak=on.
1sg=contr
I’ll do it [you are taking too long; no else wants to, etc.].’ (Rubino 1997: 324)
b.
Adda met gayam=en asawa=m.
exist also so=emph spouse=2sg.erg
‘So you have a spouse [emphasis on surprise of finding out; counter to speaker’s expectations].’ (Rubino 1997: 323)

Kroeger (2021a, 2021b, 2005) describes Kimaragang no, which he labels ‘completive’, as marking primarily exhaustive focus, as example (13a) shows. However, no can also be used in contexts where an exhaustive interpretation can be ruled out; see example (13b), where no modifies a wh-word. In this case, no conveys emphasis (Kroeger 2021b).

(13)
Kimaragang (Dusunic; Malaysia)
a.
Kanas no ot ko-kogop dot logop ot=niyuw.
wild.pig compl nom nvol.av-bite acc dry nom=coconut
‘It is [only] wild pigs that can crunch a dry coconut (with their teeth).’ (Kroeger 2021a)
b.
Isay no ma=(o)t minanakaw dit=baju nu?
who compl prtcl=nom av:pst:steal acc=shirt 2sg.gen
‘Who [in the world] might have stolen your dress?’ (Kroeger 2021b)

3.2 Languages of Sulawesi

My sample includes seven languages spoken on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi, all of which belong to different genetic groups: Bantik (Sangiric), Tajio and Pendau (Tomini-Tolitoli), Tondano (Minahasan), Muna and Tukang Besi (Muna-Buton), and Makassarese (South Sulawesi). Polyfunctional COS markers are found in Bantik, Tajio, Pendau, Tondano, and Muna.

In Bantik, the COS marker is the enclitic =te, which Utsumi (2020) glosses as ‘completive’. Utsumi states that when it modifies a noun or pronoun, =te indicates contrastive focus; she provides an example, reproduced in (14). In this example, however, the contrastive effect is not immediately obvious, as the constituent marked with =te occurs in a typically non-contrastive setting, that is, the answer to a wh-question. It might be that =te has both a contrastive function and an emphatic function when used in a non-contrastive setting, similar to the Kimaragang completive no discussed above.

(14)
Bantik (Sangiric; Indonesia)
Isai nu m-ako? - Iaʔ =te
who.s lnk av.npst-go 1sg.s=compl
“Who is going? - I am [the one who is going].” (Utsumi 2020: slide 32)

In Tajio, the COS marker =mo is described by Mayani (2013: 109) as a focus marker. No further information is given about its exact function (emphatic, exhaustive focus), but Mayani (pers. comm.) has confirmed that it has no contrastive overtones. In the examples provided in Mayani (2013), =mo seems to have an emphatic function (15a), (15b).

(15)
Tajio (Tomini-Tolitoli; Indonesia)
a.
Tuda-tuda=mo simaua jio ne-vua.
red-plant=foc like.that neg dyn.r-fruit
Those plants do not bear fruits.’ (Mayani 2013: 109; emphasis by the author)
b.
Sapa=mo jojo ni-pe-utanya-i=nya ini.
what=foc all uv.r-loc-ask-appl=3sg.gen prox
‘What was (it) all (about) she had asked?’ (Mayani 2013: 109)

In Pendau, Quick (2007: 586, ft. 6) observes that the COS enclitic =mo can appear in texts “bound to a noun or pronoun. In these cases, it seems to mark the NP for a highlighting effect and possibly sometimes as contrastive focus.” According to Quick (2007: 407), =mo “probably highlights [the pronoun],” as shown in the example reproduced in (16).

(16)
Pendau (Tomini-Tolitoli; Indonesia)
N-pe-ongkor=mo tutu a’u =mo.
r-dyn-tired=comp truly 1sg.abs=compl
I am now truly tired.’ (Quick 2007: 407)

In Tondano, according to Brickell (2014: 204–205), =mow […] expresses a sense of certainty regarding the situation denoted by the lexical root; that is, that it will definitely occur. When used in this way, =mow can indicate certainty for situations that are already underway or that the speaker desires to happen, and may attach to virtually any lexical root or stem. In example (17), =mow attaches to a numeral.

(17)
Tondano (Minahasan; Indonesia)
Ko=k<um>antar=la esa ka’apa rua lagu? - Esa= mow .
2.sg.piv=<av> sing=dir.prox one or two song one=compl
‘Will you sing one or two songs? – [Definitely] One’. (Brickell 2014: 205)

Finally, in Muna, the COS marker -mo also can attach to any kind of constituents, with an emphatic meaning (van den Berg 1989: 306). If -mo is attached to a single noun phrase, it has a function similar to that-clefts in English (van den Berg 1989: 306), as shown in example (18b).

(18)
Muna (Muna-Buton; Indonesia)
a.
Lambu-ku.
house-1sg.poss
My house.’
b.
Lambu-ku-mo.
house-1sg.poss-cos
‘That’s my house.’ (van den Berg 1989: 307; my glosses)

3.3 The Longgu/Malaita/Makira languages

The third group of geographically related languages with polyfunctional COS markers consists of the Longgu/Malaita/Makira languages (Southeast Solomonic), spoken on the islands of Makira, Malaita and Guadalcanal in Solomon Islands. In my sample, they are represented by Toqabaqita, Longgu and Kwaio. Their COS markers are cognate forms: Toqabaqita na(qa),[8] Longgu na/na’a and Kwaio no’o/ne.

Lichtenberk (2008: 365) observes that Toqabaqita na(qa), which he glosses as perfect, signals that “a different participant is involved, different from the relevant participant(s) involved in an earlier situation, or that there is a change in some aspect or circumstance of the situation, or in some characteristic(s) of a participant. The new participant or circumstance is in implicit or explicit contrast with one or more other ones that were involved in an earlier situation” (Lichtenberk 2008: 365). In example (19), the constituent nia ‘she’ is marked with na(qa), to indicate that “a different participant is placed in the foreground” (Lichtenberk 2008: 366).

(19)
Toqabaqita (Southeast Solomonic; Solomon Islands)
Nau kwai alu-a ba-kuq=i thaqegano kwa quna qeri, “Si doo
1sg 1sg.ipfv put-3sg.o lim-1sg.pers=loc ground 1sg.seq manner this part thing
qeri neri.” Nia naqa ka gwee-a.
this npst.here 3sg perf 3sg.seq pick.up-3sg.o
‘[In the old days, when a woman who was the wife of another man asked me to give her something, I would not hand it to her directly.] I would just put it on the ground and say, “Here is the thing.”. (And) she would pick it up.’ (Lichtenberk 2008: 366)

The contrastive function of na(qa) is illustrated in example (20). Here, na(qa) highlights the contrast between the food offered to the addressee and the food previously offered to others.

(20)
Toqabaqita (Southeast Solomonic; Solomon Islands)
Si doo qoe na =kau nena.
part thing 2sg perf=deic there
‘That’s your food (lit.: thing).’ [As opposed to the food given to other people a short while previously.] (Lichtenberk 2008: 367)

In Longgu, the COS marker na’a (na) is defined by Hill (1992, 2016) as an emphatic marker, which “often expresses contrast” (1992: 145). As Hill (2016) shows, in Longgu, word order plays an important role in determining the information status of a constituent. Typically, salient participants, which may be S/A or O, are placed before the verb. Preverbal constituents may be either topical or focal: topical if their referent is discourse-known or context-known – and in this case usually accompanied by a determiner – and focal if their referent is discourse-new. The use of na after fronted constituents reinforces their interpretation as contrastive or discourse-new information. See example (21), where na follows the preverbal argument ‘the blind man’.

(21)
Longgu (Southeast Solomonic; Solomon Islands)
Puta a-darua niu ngaia paati-i m-e zudu
cut cl-3du.poss coconut 3sg.det bald-sg conj-3sg.s sit
ngaia paati-i; ngaia kisu-i na e zuala
3sg.det bald-sg 3sg.det blind-sg emph 3sg.s stand
m-arua inu .
conj-3du.s drink
‘The bald one cut their coconuts (cut one for each of them) and the bald one sat down; the blind one stood and they both drink.’ (Hill 2016: 363)

In Kwaio, according to Keesing (1985: 175, 1991: 331), the COS marker no’o (allomorph: ne) has focus marking functions. No’o is only used to mark third-person singular and plural subject pronouns; other pronouns are marked with the dedicated marker ’i, and object foci are marked through fronting. The exact function of no’o, however, is not elaborated further by Keesing, who translates its use into English through clefts, see examples (22a) and (22b).

(22)
Kwaio (Southeast Solomonic; Solomon Islands)
a.
Gila no’o la aga-si-a.
3pl cos 3pl.s see-tr-3sg.o
‘It was them who saw it’. (Keesing 1991: 331; my glosses)
b.
Ngai ne-’e aga-si-a.
3sg cos-3sg.s see-tr-3sg.o
‘It’s him who saw it.’ (Keesing 1985: 175; my glosses)

3.4 Lakurumau

The Lakurumau particle asang (=sang) was introduced in Section 1. Asang typically, but not necessarily, follows the leftmost element in a sentence. It often co-occurs with fronted elements, strengthening their already pragmatically marked interpretation as a contrastive topic or focus. In its non-aspectual function, asang conveys a sense of certainty and often elicits a contrastive reading. It has an emphatic function and can be used to mark new discourse topics.

In example (23b), asang modifies the left-dislocated object, and has a dual function: on the one hand, it implies that the event of the laptop being sold will certainly take place, in contrast to (23a), where the event is depicted as only possible. On the other hand, asang selects the referent a laptop akamaam ‘this laptop’ in opposition with the set of other possible candidates for the same role.

(23)
Lakurumau (Western Oceanic; Papua New Guinea)
a.
A laptop akamaam ga=daa saalim sa-m Joel.
art laptop this 1sg.irr.s= irr sell al.poss-pers.art Joel
‘(As for) this laptop, I will (maybe) sell it to Joel.’
b.
A laptop akamaa=sang ga=daa saalim sa-m Joel.
art laptop this=cos 1sg.irr.s=irr sell al.poss-pers.art Joel
‘It’s this laptop that I’ll (certainly) sell to Joel [implied: not another one, if more laptops are considered for selling].’ (author’s field notes; elicitation session with Mrs Dinah Gurumang on 14.05.2019 and with Mr Gaui Aisoli on 31.10.2022)

Asang is also used to highlight the elements that the speaker wishes to emphasize and mark as most relevant in the ongoing communication. In the dialogue presented in the example (24), Speaker A informs Speaker B about her and her granddaughter’s trip back from Kavieng, the provincial capital, the previous day (24a).[9] In her reply (24b), Speaker B uses asang to mark the wh-constituent – “which bus” – as the most relevant in the utterance. In sentence (24c), Speaker A first uses asang to introduce a new participant, Daaxit, and then applies it in a contrastive function to indicate that they arrived but their cargo remained on the bus.

(24)
Lakurumau (Western Oceanic; Papua New Guinea)
(a)
A:
Maadi valik, maadi xawaas a kaar laba
1du.ex.s go.down 1du.ex.s board art car big
pena laak. A draiva ka=wit ke=vamaanis, maadi
purp go.up art driver 3sg.s=neg 3sg.irr.s=hurry 1du.ex.s
xawaas ket a baas aa maadi laak pan=a
board again art bus and 1du.ex.s go.up obl=art
baas. Lo suk asang maadi wut sivang.
bus loc night cos 1du.ex.s come arrive.up
‘The two of us went down [to the bus station] and we boarded a car to go up [back to the village]. The driver was not in a hurry, we two boarded the bus and we went up by bus. We arrived here at night.’
(b)
B:
Azo ta baas asang azo ta mus ka=sang
what art.nspec bus cos what art.nspec vehicle top=cos
modi laak pa-na?
2du.s go.up obl-3sg
‘Which bus asang… which vehicle asang did you two go up with?
(c)
A:
Sam Eliap… maadi wut, nam Daaxit asang a=ze
al.poss-pers.art 1du.ex.s come pers.art Daaxit cos 3sg.s=sit
umbong nimaai lo rot. Maadi laak aa a mu
wait 1du.ex loc road 1du.ex.s go.up and art pl
kargo sa-nimaai asang , ka=wit maadi sik a mu bek
cargo al.poss-1du.ex cos 3sg.s=neg 1du.ex.s take art bag
kopra, ka=waan baaxit Madina. Aa panyaan nanga
copra 3sg.s=go pass.by Madina and morning 1sg.s
valang sik.
go.up take
‘Eliap’s [vehicle]… we two came here, Daaxit was waiting for us on the road. We went up and our cargo instead, we didn’t take the bags of copra, they went all the way to Madina. And in the morning I went up there to retrieve them.’ (Mazzitelli 2017: Lakurumau corpus; lox014)

Example (25) illustrates the use of asang to mark constituents that are established as new discourse topics. In the text from where example (25) is drawn, the speaker discusses traditional dwelling types and construction techniques in Lakurumau culture, listing three types of houses. The third type is the balavaat, a round house made of stones, which is first introduced in (25a) and then marked as the new topic in (25b).

(25)
Lakurumau (Western Oceanic; Papua New Guinea)
(a)
A va-ralorun=aana - a balavaat
art caus-three=nmlz art stone.house
‘The third one [type of traditional dwelling] is a balavaat.
(b)
A balavaat asang, a yaan di=zangas, mo di=valeng
art stone.house cos art time 3nsg.s=walk if 3nsg.s=go.up
taxaam-in aa ka=daa vala vala aa xa=laak… laak lo len=a
see-tr and 3sg.s=irr run run and 3sg.s=go.up go.up loc inside=art
balavaat, a flu xam, ka=wit ket no gu=daa ken
stone.house art house top 3sg.s=neg again 2sg 2sg.s=irr can
pan=a laax-an aa nangu=vala zop naan, ka=wit.
obl=art go.up-nmlz and 2sg.s=run hit.TR 3sg 3sg.s=neg
The balavaat now, when people walked around and they saw someone, he would run, run and enter… enter the balavaat, the house, and then you could not enter [the balavaat] anymore to kill him, no.’ (Mazzitelli 2017: Lakurumau corpus; lox169)

3.5 Nalögo

In Nalögo, a Reefs-Santa Cruz language spoken on Santa Cruz in Solomon Islands, the COS marker enclitic =p(m)e is found. According to Alfarano’s analysis (Alfarano 2021: 340–341), =p(m)e can have a contrastive function. Alfarano comments on the example reproduced in (26) as follows: “According to the local rules, after the marriage, the wife, who until that moment has lived with her family, has to move to the husband’s house to create a new family. The form =pe on the possessive classifier ne might signal that there is a change of situation which contrasts with the previous one, since the wife no longer lives in her family house” (Alfarano 2021: 342).

(26)
Nalögo (Reefs-Santa Cruz; Solomon Islands)
Lë-pi-te=kö lë-pwö-k kâ=ng da ä
pfv.3aug-say-ints=also pfv.3aug-be.big-ints dem1.dist=pl qnt thing coord
mweli kâ=pe mwilëpu olë â
time dem1.dist=cos afternoon girl dem1.dist prag.mrk
të-vë-mi=pe=kö
ipfv.3aug-go-appl=cos=3aug.s
olë la. Lë-vë-mi=kö böma ne=pe nünge
girl dem1.l.nprox pfv.3aug-go-appl=3aug.s house an.clf=cos boy
ä të-mno=pe ba=de ä
dem1.dist coord seq ipfv.3aug-live=cos prep=3min.o coord
në-yelë-gö=gö ba=de la=pe.
nmlz1-marry-nmlz3=3aug.poss prep=3min.o dem1.l.nprox=cos
‘The old people make a speech and in the afternoon, they go with the girl. They go with the girl to the house of the boy and then, they live together. (And) their marriage is that one.’ (Alfarano 2021: 342)

3.6 A dubious case: Mandara

In Mandara, a Western Oceanic language of New Ireland, Papua New Guinea, the completive marker te (27a) is homophonous with the particle te that Hong and Hong (2003: 43, 58) label as emphatic (27b).

(27)
Mandara (Western Oceanic; Papua New Guinea)
a.
Mi lavlav a te ka-deir.
art fabric 3sg.s comp res-tear
‘The fabric is (now) torn’ (Hong and Hong 2003: 70)
b.
Egie ngas te gi nga tourtelekira-n.
3pl persistance emph 3pl.s pst appoint-3sg.o
‘They (emphasis) appointed him/her; they are the ones who appointed him.’ (Hong and Hong 2003: 43)

Hong and Hong (2003) do not explicitly identify the aspectual te with the emphatic te, and therefore this morpheme was not included in the previous discussion. Further research is required to determine whether this is a case of homophony or polyfunctionality.

3.7 Summary

The previous sections present data indicating that the non-aspectual functions of COS markers in the sample vary between languages. However, two shared core functions can be identified across the sample. As Table 4 shows, COS markers are used to express contrast and emphasis in at least two different sample languages.[10]

Table 4:

Shared non-aspectual functions of COS markers in the sample languages.

Contrast Emphasis
Ilocano Ilocano
Bantik Kimaragang
Pendau Pendau
Longgu Muna
Toqabaqita Lakurumau
Lakurumau (? Tajio)
Nalögo

While the concept of contrast is relatively straightforward and does not require further explanation, the term “emphasis” is vague and requires clarification. Here I follow Lauerbach (2011), who defines emphasis as an information structuring strategy that flags the elements the speaker deems particularly worthy of attention and relevant in the current portion of discourse.

“Emphasis, from Greek emphaínein ‘to exhibit, to indicate’, is a complex phenomenon. Historically it has its roots in ancient rhetoric, where it refers to the exceptional force, intensity or otherwise unusual form of expression on the part of speakers or writers which serves to indicate or attract attention to special meaning, importance, or prominence of their words, feelings or actions. The nature of the particular meaning, importance or prominence in any specific instance of use has to be inferred.” (Lauerbach 2011: 130)

In their emphatic function, COS markers serve to draw the hearer’s attention to new, counter-expectational, or significant elements for subsequent discourse development. It is important to note that, although COS markers play an important role in structuring discourse, they usually coexist and interact with other dedicated strategies for expressing emphasis or contrast. For instance, in Ilocano, fronting alone can be used to elicit a contrastive interpretation, as example (28b) shows.

(28)
Ilocano (North Luzon; Phiippines)
a.
I<in>taray=na=ak.
thv<pf>run=3sg.erg=1sg.abs
‘He eloped with me.’
b.
Isu ti nang-i-taray kaniak
3sg art pf.detr-thv-run 1sg.obl
‘He is the one who eloped with me.’ (Rubino 1997: 447)

In these cases, COS markers enhance the meaning of the other strategies that are already being implemented. An instance of this is example (21) from Longgu, shown in Section 3.4. Here, the COS marker na reinforces the contrastive interpretation of the subject constituent, which already occupies the pragmatically marked preverbal position.

4 Beyond Austronesian

In the previous section, I limited my investigation to the Austronesian languages. However, markers that combine an aspectual meaning of change of state with information- and discourse-structuring functions are also attested in other language families. This section briefly presents some examples from Quechua (Quechuan), Latin (Indo-European), Tulil (Baining), and Kuot (isolate).

The Quechuan languages use the aspect suffix -ña ‘discontinuative; inceptive’ to express the notion of transition to a new situation (Cerrón-Palomino 1994: 140; Shimelman 2017: 257; Weber 1989: 376ff). According to Cerrón-Palomino (1996), -ña can also attach to non-verbal expressions with a contrastive value (30a). This use has been adopted in Andean Spanish, where the particle ya ‘already’ can be used with a contrastive meaning (30b).

(29)
Huallaga Quechua (Quechuan; Peru)
Chaka-sha- ña
be.dark-prtcpl=now
‘It is now dark.’ (Weber 1989: 377)
(30)
a.
Quechua (Quechuan)11
Paqarin- ña ri-pu-ku-sa.
tomorrow-cos go-benef-refl-fut.1sg
‘I’ll go tomorrow (and not another day)’ (Cerrón-Palomino 1996: 115; my glosses and English translation)
  1. 11

    Cerrón-Palomino does not specify which Quechuan variety or which Andean Spanish variety (Peruvian, Bolivian, etc.) he refers to in these examples.

b.
Andean Spanish (Romance; Indo-European)
El lunes ya me iré a Lima.
art Monday already refl:1sg go.fut.1sg to Lima
‘I will go to Lima on Monday (and not today or any other day).’ (Cerrón-Palomino 1996: 111; my glosses and English translation)

The Latin particle iam ‘already’ has both temporal and scalar meanings. Temporally, iam indicates a transition from a negative to a positive stage (Huitink 2005; Kroon and Risselada 2002), as example (31a) shows. Kroon and Risselada (2002) successfully demonstrate that iam has an additional pragmatic function in expressing counter-expectational focality. I believe that in some cases iam may actually have a contrastive function rather than counter-expectational. This is shown in example (31b), taken from the prologue of a comedy by the ancient Roman playwright Terence. As Koon and Risselada explain, in the prologue the playwright “defends his use of stock characters, since he has been accused by Roman officials of having taken his characters from the plays of other Roman playwrights. Iam puts a certain emphasis on vos (‘you’), which refers to the audience, as opposed to the officials” (Kroon and Risselada 2002: 72). Here, iam elicits a contrastive interpretation, opposing one referent (the audience) to another (the officials).

(31)
Latin (Indo-European; Italy)
a.
Credo, iam omium taedebat.
believe.prs.1sg already all.gen.pl be.bored.imperf.3sg
‘I believe, [Aeschinus] had gotten bored of all of them.’ (Terence, Ad. 150; my translation).
b.
Id ita esse vos iam iudicare poteritis
this.acc.sg so be.inf 2pl.acc already judge.inf can.fut.2pl
‘That this is the case will be up to you (vos iam) to decide’ (Terence, Eun. 29)’ (Kroon and Risselada: 2002: 72; my glosses; emphasis by the authors).

In Tulil, a Baining language spoken in New Britain, Papua New Guinea, the proclitic aspect marker = ‘iamitive’ expresses change of state with stative predicates (32a). As Meng (2018: 165) states, = can also attach to phrasal-level elements, with “an emphatic, foregrounding function”, see (32b).

(32)
Tulil (Baining; Papua New Guinea)
a.
Ta-pən ga ləvək to bə= vəgərət.
3pl.npst-hit across banana subord iam=ripe
‘They cut the bananas that are ready to harvest [lit. ‘have ripened’] (Meng 2018: 437)
b.
Kəməron=a o bə=iap a-tu mu.
different=sg.clf:masc top iam=3sg.m 3sg.m.npst-ipfv put
‘The devil, it was him who teaches these.’ (Meng 2018: 165)

In Kuot, an isolate Papuan language of New Ireland, Papua New Guinea, the enclitic aspect marker =(a)r(a) has complex semantics that include the expression of change of state with stative predicates (Chung and Chung 1996: 51; Chung 1999: 6; Lindström 2002: 144); see example (33).

(33)
Kuot (isolate; Papua New Guinea)
Pir-e=ra iro uduma.
ripe-3sg.m.s=compl this.sg.m banana
‘This bunch of bananas got ripe.’ (Chung and Chung 1996: 51)

In discourse, =(a)r(a) indicates current relevant state (Chung 1999), marking situations and events that are worthy of attention because they represent pivotal changes in the narrative or contradict the hearer’s presuppositions. Chung (1999: 5) states that =(a)r(a) may also function “as a focus marker: It marks the thing that the speaker wants the hearer to remember”, but he does not provide clear examples of this function in the text.

Table 5 summarizes the non-aspectual functions of COS markers in Quechua, Latin, Tulil, and Kuot.[12]

Table 5:

Non-aspectual functions of COS markers in languages outside the Austronesian family.

Contrastiveness Emphasis
Quechua Tulil
Latin Kuot

Due to the limited number of languages outside the Austronesian family examined in this study, it is not possible to draw any reliable conclusions about the cross-linguistic distribution and frequency of polyfunctional COS. However, even such limited evidence clearly demonstrates that this phenomenon is present outside of the Austronesian family and its sphere of influence. Tulil and Kuot may have replicated the Austronesian model in expanding the functions of their COS markers. Both languages have had intensive contact with Austronesian languages; in particular, Kuot has Lakurumau (see Section 3.5) as one of its contact languages. However, in the case of Quechua and Latin, there is no possibility of a contact-induced explanation.

Therefore, the development of COS markers into information structuring devices is most likely due to universally valid semantic-pragmatic motivations and processes. In the following section, I explore and discuss the possible motivations behind the combination of change of state and information structure.

5 From aspect to information structure

In their discussions of the Bantu system of verbal focus, Hyman and Watters (1984) and Güldemann (2003) expose the close link that exists between some aspectual categories – the perfect, the progressive and the persistive – and information structure. These categories share a component of current relevance, that is, they encode situations that hold at the reference time. Güldemann (2013: 353–354) observed that perfect, progressive and persistive events “demonstrate a pragmatic relevance for the immediate speech situation and thus possess an inherent feature of focality.”

Güldemann’s observation also applies to change of state, as I understand it in this paper: change of state also has current relevance as a fundamental component of its semantic-pragmatic structure. COS markers encode situations relevant to the current state of discourse, both semantically, because of their holding at reference time, and pragmatically, due to the consequences brought for the subsequent discourse. Moreover, COS markers encode inherently contrastive situations: they assert the establishment of a state of affairs that is understood as new in opposition to an old state of affairs. I have labeled this semantic property “transition to a new situation”. I suggest that the emergence of information and discourse structural interpretations of COS markers derives from the application of the notions of current relevance, and transition to a new situation to elements of propositions, rather than eventualities. Here I follow Matić and Wedgewood’s (2012) examination of how information structural interpretations may arise from markers of verbal categories such as aspect, mood, and evidentiality. Matić and Wedgewood discuss the sources of information structural effects in several languages, including Quechua and Somali. In Quechua, the evidential suffix -mi/-n ‘direct evidentiality’ can also express narrow focus, and in Somali, the marker baa has both mood-marking and focus-marking uses. Matić and Wedgewood (2012: 141) observe that “focus in Quechua is plausibly a reading – perhaps partially inferential and partially conventionalized – of the direct evidential, in much the same way that Somali focus may be an effect of applying the realis mood to propositions and elements of propositions.” This same reasoning applies to the Austronesian COS makers discussed in this paper. In their information-structuring function, COS markers apply the notion of current relevance to the elements they modify, thereby drawing attention to them. The reason a speaker decides to mark a particular element as relevant varies depending on the context: information may be made prominent because it is new, unexpected, or counter-expectational. Additionally, as seen in Sections 3 and 4, COS markers are often used to indicate contrast. In this case, both the notion of current relevance and transition to a new situation are applied, that is, rather than contrasting two states of affairs, COS markers are used to contrast two pieces of information.

The process of deriving such non-aspectual functions from change of state through the application of current relevance and transition to a new situation to elements of propositions does not explain only the Austronesian case, but the emergence of polyfunctional COS markers in Quechua, Latin, Tulil and Kuot, too.

6 Conclusions and outlook

In the previous sections, I have shown that polyfunctional markers, which combine an aspectual meaning of change of state with information and discourse structuring functions, are present in various Austronesian languages from both the Western and Eastern branches of the family as well as in some languages outside the Austronesian family. Further, I have proposed that this process involves applying the notions of current relevance and transition to a new situation to elements of propositions rather than eventualities. However, my analysis is tentative and further research on this topic is needed. Firstly, a larger and, crucially, usage-based study of Austronesian change of state markers is necessary, which will consider data from text and speech corpora, and not only from grammars. Investigating natural discourse can clarify the range of interpretive effects generated by COS markers and their interplay with other discourse structuring operations, such as voice choices and left-dislocation.

Secondly, it is worth exploring whether the development of Austronesian COS markers into information and discourse markers was facilitated by their role as foregrounding devices. Here, the term “foreground” refers not only to the actual event line, in contrast to a non-eventful background – that is, non-narrative parts of a text such as parentheticals and descriptions – but also as the main or primary event line (see Becker and Egetenmeyer 2018; Shirtz and Payne 2015). That is, “foreground” represents the events that the speaker subjectively perceives and indicates as the most relevant in the narrative. In several languages in my sample, COS markers are used to indicate events considered pivotal in the narrative’s development. This function is found in Muna (van den Berg 1989: 269), Kimaragang (Kroeger 2005: 414), Sumbawan (Shiohara 2013: 183), Tokelauan (Hooper 1998), Nalögo (Alfarano 2021: 350), Lakurumau, and possibly others.[13] The development of COS markers into information structuring devices may have first occurred in their role as foregrounding devices. In this function, they mark prominent, pivotal events: in some languages, COS markers may have loosened their categorial restrictions and gained the ability to attach to non-verbal elements as well, marking them as prominent and attention-worthy phrasal elements. The form of COS markers as clitics or particles may have facilitated such development into agnostic markers, with no restrictions on the type of host they attach to. Arguably, it would be more difficult for fusional morphology, such as the English ablaut in the past tense, or complex constructions, such as the English perfect (have + V-en/ed), to be re-analyzed as nominal or phrasal markers, even if they are semantically and pragmatically adequate.[14]

Finally, further study is needed to explore the relationship between non-aspectual functions and aspects other than change of state. As mentioned in Section 3.1, polyfunctional persistive markers (i.e. ‘still’) are found in some languages in the Philippines and Borneo, with different focus-marking functions. As mentioned previously, the persistive aspect is similar to change of state in that it also has a component of current relevance and is therefore inherently focal (Güldemann 2003). The development of persistive markers into information structuring devices could also be explained through the application of current relevance to propositional elements rather than eventualities. It is my hope that this paper may inspire further research on these topics.

Special abbreviations

av

actor voice

cos

change of state

dist

distal

dyn

dynamic verb

iam

iamitive

lnk

linker

nvol

non-volitive

pers.art

personal article

piv

pivot

r

realis

test

test

th.v

theme voice

uv

undergoer voice


Corresponding author: Lidia Federica Mazzitelli ['lidia fede'rika mat͡si'tεl:i], Università degli Studi di Napoli, Naples, Italy; University of Cologne, Cologne, Germany; and The Australian National University, Canberra, Australia, E-mail:

Award Identifier / Grant number: IPF0270

Funding source: Norges Forskningsråd

Award Identifier / Grant number: 275243

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank Valentina Alfarano, Daniel Bunčić, Ana Krajinović, Iga Kosciołek, Luh Anik Mayani, Ilja Seržant, Poppy Siahaan, Jozina Vander Klok as well as the audience at the ALT 2019, SLE 2019, and SEALS 2022 conferences for their precious comments and suggestions about the topics discussed in this paper. I would also like to thank Kilu von Prince, three anonymous reviewers and the editorial team of Linguistic Typology for their help, their comments and the many improving suggestions, and their extraordinary patience in supporting the writing and editing of this paper. I also gratefully acknowledge the speakers of Lakurumau, who patiently answered all my questions about their language, in particular Mrs Dinah Gurumang and Mr Gaui Aisoli. All remaining errors and shortcomings are my responsibility only. The data collection and research work have been supported by the IPF Grant 0270 of the Endangered Language Documentation Programme as well as by the project “Where does grammar come from? The cognitive basis of transitivity and grammatical relations” (University of Oslo/The Australian National University), funded by the Research Council of Norway, project no 275243.

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Received: 2020-10-23
Accepted: 2024-04-23
Published Online: 2024-10-09
Published in Print: 2025-05-26

© 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter, Berlin/Boston

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