Content and Language Integrated Learning (CLIL): A Methodology of Bilingual Teaching. Bernd Klewitz
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СКАЧАТЬ from the discrimination of sounds, a focus on language properties, different reactions to function and property words and—after two years—a rapid increase in the number of lexical items acquired (Meisel: 37 ff). These processes would occur in all world languages and confirm the existence of an innate mental structure, the domain-specific mechanism of UG.

      In contrast to that, behaviorist theory had proposed that a child’s environment was the most important factor in language learning and would include, even be based on imitation, a clear-cut nurture position. Whereas imitation certainly plays a limited role even in second language acquisition, learners do not imitate everything they hear and are selective in what they produce; this could be taken as a hint at an “internal language-monitoring process” (Lanir 2019: n.p.) rather than the nurture aspect of environmental conditioning. Further aspects that cannot be explained by the process of imitation are overgeneralizations like goed, putted, mouses and sheeps (in inflection) and non-existent language structures that children never heard. Language chunks acquired through imitation become locked in a child’s memory and are not assimilated in their language production and thus dysfunctional. At the same time, children produce many more sounds and combinations than they hear and understand much more than they can produce—this phenomenon is also known as Poverty of Stimulus (POS—cf. Riemer: 277). Overall, they are exposed to language performance instead of competence and can even extract linguistic rules from incomplete or faulty language they listen to (cf. ibid.).

      These aspects come across as a critical view of behaviorist language theory and an appreciation of the innate position of a UG and domain-specific mental modules. And indeed, despite all recent rejection of Chomsky’s propositions—including his own revocation of UG and resort to paradigms like recursion (cf. Everett 2017)—a study of psychologists claims to have found new support for Chomsky’s “internal grammar” theory:

      One of the foundational elements of Chomsky’s work is that we have a grammar in our head, which underlies our processing of language,” explains David Poeppel, the study’s senior researcher and a professor in New York University’s Department of Psychology. “Our neurophysiological findings support this theory: we make sense of strings of words because our brains combine words into constituents in a hierarchical manner—a process that reflects an ‘internal grammar’ mechanism (NYU: 2015 n.p.).

      On the other hand, and conceding that a universal grammar is not impossible in principle, linguists like Daniel Everett do not see much evidence for it and maintain that it would not work in any case. In his view, a complex interplay of factors structures the way humans talk and what they talk about. In that he is supported by developmental psychologists, and Michael Tomasello (2008), for instance, agrees that grammatical principles and constructions have no neural foundation but stem from more general cognitive processes and are part of communication in particular linguistic communities, although aspects of language competence might have evolved biologically. Everett, in his book Language: The Cultural Tool (2012), argues that the rules of language are “not innate but spring from necessity and circumstance”:

      Language is possible due to a number of cognitive and physical characteristics that are unique to humans but none of which that are unique to language. Coming together they make language possible. But the fundamental building block of language is community. Humans are a social species more than any other, and in order to build a community, which for some reason humans have to do in order to live, we have to solve the communication problem. Language is the tool that was invented to solve that problem. … The lesson is that language is not something mysterious that is outside the bounds of natural selection, or just popped into being through some mutated gene. But that language is a human invention to solve a human problem. Other creatures can't use it for the same reason they can't use a shovel: it was invented by humans, for humans and its success is judged by humans (Everett: 2012 n.p.).

      A German expatriate like Franz Boas (1858-1942) is not commonly associated with developing linguistic theories or participating in discussing issues of whether acquired traits of character can be inherited. But he was one of the first scientists to refute the view that intelligence was innate and the assumption of “primitive races” justified, prevailing at his time. Boas emigrated to the United States and later earned the attribution of a Father of American Anthropology. A professor at the Columbia University in New York since 1899, Boas spent a lifetime, both in the US and Europe, to fight against the racist side of biological determinism. As a proponent of “cultural relativism” he argued that cultures cannot be ranked as higher or lower and that all humans see the world through the lens of their own cultural perspective. At the turn of the century (19 to 20) it was a difficult stance to take in the light of Darwin’s theory of evolution and Mendelson’s laws of dominant and recessive genes which spread the news that “acquired traits cannot under any circumstances be inherited; that is, our genetic material is sealed off from everything we learn” (Roth Pierpont: 2004 n.p.).

      Together with his students, among them Margaret Mead, whose bestseller Coming of Age in Samoa (1928) “turned the American culture upside down” (ibid.), his research and academic work clearly went against mainstream psychology; Boas did not believe in turning heredity against culture but he believed that each person should only be judged as an individual and was malleable by cultural influences:

      The challenge that remained was to demonstrate the power of culture in shaping lives. It was nature versus nurture with the scales reset: against our sealed-off genes, there was our accumulation of collective knowledge; in place of inherited learning, there was the social transmission of that knowledge from generation to generation. "Culture" was experience raised to scientific status. And it combined with biology to create mankind. Boas sent his students off to learn how the delicate balance worked (ibid.).

      When Margaret Mead came back from Samoa, her research and ensuing publications established a new view of the concept of culture and a utopian perspective with the recognition of unknown freedom.

      The extremes of nature versus nurture are spanned by literature and philosophy as well. In The Tempest (1610/11) Shakespeare has his Prospero, the Duke of Milan, say about Caliban: “A devil, a born devil, on whose nature nurture can never stick” (IV, 1), who as the son of a witch is denied any possibility to escape slavery. About three hundred years later, Ortega y Gasset, spent part of his studies of Philosophy in Marburg/Lahn and came up with quite the opposite opinion: “Man has no nature, what he has is—history” (History as a System, 1935). But in America, during the 1920s and 30s, the racist dimension of biological determinism—as so determinately fought by Boas—had peaked, not only in the revival of the Ku Klux Klan with four hundred new members but also with books on race and immigration such as The Passing of the Great Race (1916) by amateur anthropologist Madison Grant or The Rising Tide of Color СКАЧАТЬ