Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Alan Prince
Brandeis University
The authors contributed equally to this paper and listed their names in alphabetical order. We are grateful to Jane Grimshaw and Brian MacWhinney for providing transcripts of children's speech from the Brandeis Longitudinal Study and the Child Language Data Exchange System, respectively. We also thank Tom Bever, Jane Grimshaw, Stephen Kosslyn, Dan Slobin, an anonymous reviewer from Cognition, and the Boston Philosophy and Psychology Discussion Group for their comments on earlier drafts, and Richard Goldberg for his assistance. Preparation of this paper was supported by NSF grant IST-8420073 to Jane Grimshaw and Ray Jackendoff of Brandeis University, by NIH grant HD 18381-04 to Steven Pinker, and by a grant from the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation to the MIT Center for Cognitive Science. Requests for reprints may be sent to Steven Pinker at the Department of Brain and Cognitive Sciences, MIT, Cambridge, MA 02139 or Alan Prince at the Linguistics and Cognitive Science Program, Brown 125, Brandeis University, Waltham MA 02254.
"If design govern in a thing so small." -Robert Frost
One of the reasons this strategy is inviting is that we know of a complex intelligent system, the computer, that can only be understood using this algorithm-implementation or hardware-software distinction. And one of the reasons that the strategy has remained compelling is that it has given us precise, revealing, and predictive models of cognitive domains that have required few assumptions about the underlying neural hardware other than that it makes available some very general elementary processes of comparing and transforming symbolic expressions.
Of course, no one believes that cognitive models explicating the systematicities in a domain of intelligence can fly in the face of constraints provided by the operations made available by neural hardware. Some early cognitive models have assumed an underlying architecture inspired by the historical and technological accidents of current computer design, such as rapid reliable serial processing, limited bandwidth communication channels, or rigid distinctions between registers and memory. These assumptions are not only inaccurate as descriptions of the brain, composed as it is of slow, noisy and massively interconnected units acting in parallel, but they are unsuited to tasks such as vision where massive amounts of information must be processed in parallel. Furthermore, some cognitive tasks seems to require mechanisms for rapidly satisfying large sets of probabilistic constraints, and some aspects of human performance seem to reveal graded patterns of generalization to large sets of stored exemplars, neither of which is easy to model with standard serial symbol-matching architectures. And progress has sometimes been stymied by the difficulty of deciding among competing models of cognition when one lacks any constraints on which symbol-manipulating processes the neural hardware supplies "for free" and which must be composed of more primitive processes.
In response to these concerns, a family of models of cognitive processes originally developed in the 1950's and early 1960's has received increased attention. In these models, collectively referred to as "Parallel Distributed Processing" ("PDP") or "Connectionist" models, the hardware mechanisms are networks consisting of large numbers of densely interconnected units, which correspond to concepts (Feldman & Ballard, 1982) or to features (Hinton, McClelland, & Rumelhart, 1981). These units have activation levels and they transmit signals (graded or 1-0) to one another along weighted connections. Units "compute" their output signals through a process of weighting each of their input signals by the strength of the connection along which the signal is coming in, summing the weighted input signals, and feeding the result into a nonlinear output function, usually a threshold. Learning consists of adjusting the strengths of connections and the threshold-values, usually in a direction that reduces the discrepancy between an actual output in response to some input and a "desired" output provided by an independent set of "teaching" inputs. In some respects, these models are thought to resemble neural networks in meaningful ways; in others, most notably the teaching and learning mechanisms, there is no known neurophysiological analogue, and some authors are completely agnostic about how the units and connections are neurally instantiated. ("Brain-style modeling" is the noncommittal term used by Rumelhart and McClelland, 1986a.) The computations underlying cognitive processes occur when a set of input units in a network is turned on in a pattern that corresponds in a fixed way to a stimulus or internal input. The activation levels of the input units then propagate through connections to the output units, possibly mediated by one or more levels of intermediate units. The pattern of activation of the output units corresponds to the output of the computation and can be fed into a subsequent network or into response effectors. Many models of perceptual and cognitive processes within this family have been explored recently; for a recent collection of reports, including extensive tutorials, reviews, and historical surveys, see Rumelhart, McClelland, & the PDP Research Group, 1986; and McClelland, Rumelhart, and the PDP Research Group (1986); henceforth, "PDPI" and "PDPII").
There is no doubt that these models have a different feel than standard symbol-processing models. The units, the topology and weights of the connections among them, the functions by which activation levels are transformed in units and connections, and the learning (i.e. weight-adjustment) function are all that is "in" these models; one cannot easily point to rules, algorithms, expressions, and the like inside them. By itself, of course, this means little, because the same is true for a circuit diagram of a digital computer implementing a theorem-prover. How, then, are PDP models related to the more traditional symbol-processing models that have until now dominated cognitive psychology and linguistics?
It is useful to distinguish three possibilities. In one, PDP models would occupy an intermediate level between symbol processing and neural hardware: they would characterize the elementary information processes provided by neural networks that serve as the building blocks of rules or algorithms. Individual PDP networks would compute the primitive symbol associations (such as matching an input against memory, or pairing the input and output of a rule), but the way the overall output of one network feeds into the input of another would be isomorphic to the structure of the symbol manipulations captured in the statements of rules. Progress in PDP modeling would undoubtedly force revisions in traditional models, because traditional assumptions about primitive mechanisms may be neurally implausible, and complex chains of symbol manipulations may be obviated by unanticipated primitive computational powers of PDP networks. Nonetheless, in this scenario a well-defined division between rule and hardware would remain, each playing an indispensable role in the explanation of a cognitive process. Many existing types of symbol-processing models would survive mostly intact, and, to the extent they have empirical support and explanatory power, would dictate many fundamental aspects of network organization. In some expositions of PDP models, this is the proposed scenario (see, e.g. Hinton, 1981; Hinton, McClelland, & Rumelhart, 1986, p. 78; also Touretzky, 1986, and Hinton & Touretzky, 1985, where PDP networks implement aspects of LISP and production systems, respectively). We call this "implementational connectionism".
An alternative possibility is that once PDP network models are fully developed, they will replace symbol-processing models as explanations of cognitive processes. It would be impossible to find a principled mapping between the components of a PDP model and the steps or memory structures implicated by a symbol-processing theory, to find states of the PDP model that correspond to intermediate states of the execution of the program, to observe stages of its growth corresponding to components of the program being put into place, or states of breakdown corresponding to components wiped out through trauma or loss -- the structure of the symbolic model would vanish. Even the input-output function computed by the network model could differ in special cases from that computed by the symbolic model. Basically, the entire operation of the model (to the extent that it is not a black box) would have to be characterized not in terms of interactions among entities possessing both semantic and physical properties (e.g. different subsets of neurons or states of neurons each of which represent a distinct chunks of knowledge), but in terms of entities that had only physical properties, (e.g. the "energy landscape" defined by the activation levels of a large aggregate of interconnected neurons). Perhaps the symbolic model, as an approximate description of the performance in question, would continue to be useful as a heuristic, capturing some of the regularities in the domain in an intuitive or easily-communicated way, or allowing one to make convenient approximate predictions. But the symbolic model would not be a literal account at any level of analysis of what is going on in the brain, only an analogy or a rough summary of regularities. This scenario, which we will call "eliminative connectionism", sharply contrasts with the hardware-software distinction that has been assumed in cognitive science until now: no one would say that a program is an "approximate" description of the behavior of a computer, with the "exact" description existing at the level of chips and circuits; rather they are both exact descriptions at different levels of analysis.
Finally, there is a range of intermediate possibilities that we have already hinted at. A cognitive process might be profitably understood as a sequence or system of isolable entities that would be symbolic inasmuch as one could characterize them as having semantic properties such as truth values, consistency relations, or entailment relations, and one might predict the input-output function and systematicities in performance, development, or loss strictly in terms of formal properties of these entities. However, they might bear little resemblance to the symbolic structures that one would posit by studying a domain of intelligence independent of implementation considerations. The primitive information-processing operations made available by the connectionist architecture (summation of weighted activation levels and threshold functions, etc.) might force a theorist to posit a radically different set of symbols and operations, which in turn would make different predictions about the functions that could be computed and the patterns of breakdown observable during development, disease, or intermediate stages of processing. In this way, PDP theory could lead to fundamental new discoveries about the character of symbol-processing, rather than implying that there was no such thing. Let us call this intermediate position "revisionist-symbol- processing connectionism"
Language: A Crucial Test Case. From its inception, the study of language within the framework of generative grammar has been a prototypical example of how fundamental properties of a cognitive domain can be explained within the symbolic paradigm. Linguistic theories have posited symbolic representations, operations, and architectures of rule-systems that are highly structured, detailed, and constrained, testing them against the plentiful and complex data of language (both the nature of adults' mastery of language, and data about how such knowledge is learned and put to use in comprehension and speech.) Historically, it has been the demands of these theories that have driven our conception of what the computational resources underlying cognition must provide at a minimum (e.g. Chomsky, 1957, 1965). A priori notions of neurally possible elementary information processes have been plainly too weak, at worst, or unenlightening because of the few constraints they impose, at best. Language has been the domain most demanding of articulated symbol structures governed by rules and principles, and it is also the domain where such structures have been explored in the greatest depth and sophistication, within a range of theoretical frameworks and architectures, attaining a wide variety of significant empirical results. Any alternative model that either eschews symbolic mechanisms altogether, or that is strongly shaped by the restrictive nature of available elementary information processes and unresponsive to the demands of the high-level functions being computed, starts off at a seeming disadvantage. Many observers thus feel that connectionism, as a radical restructuring of cognitive theory, will stand or fall depending on its ability to account for human language.
One of the most influential efforts in the PDP school has been a model of the acquisition of the marking of the past tense in English developed by David Rumelhart and James McClelland (1986b, 1987). Using standard PDP mechanisms, this model learns to map representations of present tense forms of English verbs onto their past tense versions. It handles both regular (walk/walked and irregular (feel/felt) verbs, productively yielding past forms for novel verbs not in its training set, and it distinguishes the variants of the past tense morpheme (t versus d versus @o[i-d]) conditioned by the final consonant of the verb (walked versus jogged versus sweated). Furthermore, in doing so it displays a number of behaviors reminiscent of children. It passes through stages of conservative acquisition of correct irregular and regular verbs (walked, brought, hit) followed by productive application of the regular rule and overregularization to irregular stems (e.g. bringed, hitted), followed by mastery of both regular and irregular verbs. It acquires subclasses of irregular verbs (e.g. fly/flew, sing/sang, hit/hit) in an order similar to children. It makes certain types of errors (ated, wented) at similar stages. Nonetheless, nothing in the model corresponds in any obvious way to the rules that have been assumed to be an essential part of the explanation of the past tense formation process. None of the individual units or connections in the model corresponds to a word, a position within a word, a morpheme, a regular rule, an exception, or a paradigm. The intelligence of the model is distributed in the pattern of weights linking the simple input and output units, so that any relation to a rule-based account is complex and indirect at best.
Rumelhart and McClelland take the results of this work as strong support for eliminative connectionism, the paradigm in which rule- or symbol-based accounts are simply eliminated from direct explanations of intelligence:
We suggest instead that implicit knowledge of language may be stored in connections among simple processing units organized into networks. While the behavior of such networks may be describable (at least approximately) as conforming to some system of rules, we suggest that an account of the fine structure of the phenomena of language use and language acquisition can best be formulated in models that make reference to the characteristics of the underlying networks. (Rumelhart & McClelland, 1987, p. 196)The Rumelhart-McClelland (henceforth, "RM") model, because it inspires these remarkable claims, figures prominently in general expositions of connectionism that stress its revolutionary nature, such as Smolensky (in press) and McClelland, Rumelhart, and Hinton (1986). Despite the radical nature of these conclusions, it is our impression that they have gained acceptance in many quarters; that many researchers have been persuaded that theories of language couched in terms of rules and rule acquisition may be obsolete (see, e.g., Sampson, 1987). Other researchers have attempted to blunt the force of the Rumelhart and McClelland's attack on rules by suggesting that the model really does contain rules, or that past tense acquisition is an unrepresentatively easy problem, or that there is some reason in principle why PDP models are incapable of being extended to language as a whole, or that Rumelhart and McClelland are modeling `performance' and saying little about `competence' or are modeling implementations but saying little about algorithms. We believe that these quick reactions -- be they conversion experiences or outright dismissals -- are unwarranted. Much can be gained by taking the model at face value as a theory of the psychology of the child and by examining the claims of the model in detail. That is the goal of this paper.We have, we believe, provided a distinct alternative to the view that children learn the rules of English past-tense formation in any explicit sense. We have shown that a reasonable account of the acquisition of past tense can be provided without recourse to the notion of a "rule" as anything more than a description of the language. We have shown that, for this case, there is no induction problem. The child need not figure out what the rules are, nor even that there are rules. (Rumelhart & McClelland, 1986b, p. 267, their emphasis).
We view this work on past-tense morphology as a step toward a revised understanding of language knowledge, language acquisition, and linguistic information processing in general. (Rumelhart & McClelland, 1986b, p. 268)
The RM model, like many PDP models, is a tour de force. It is explicit and mechanistic: precise empirical predictions flow out of the model as it operates autonomously, rather than being continuously molded or reshaped to fit the facts by a theorist acting as deus ex machina. The authors have made a commitment as to the underlying computational architecture of the model, rather than leaving it as a degree of freedom. The model is tested not only against the phenomenon that inspired it -- the three-stage developmental sequence of generalizations of the regular past tense morpheme -- but against several unrelated phenomena as well. Furthermore, Rumelhart and McClelland bring these developmental data to bear on the model in an unusually detailed way, examining not only gross effects but also many of its more subtle details. Several non-obvious but interesting empirical predictions are raised in these examinations. Finally, the model uses clever mechanisms that operate in surprising ways. These features are virtually unheard of in developmental psycholinguistics (see Pinker, 1979; Wexler & Culicover, 1980). There is no doubt that our understanding of language acquisition would advance more rapidly if theories in developmental psycholinguistics were held to such standards.
Nonetheless, our analysis of the model will come to conclusions very different from those of Rumelhart and McClelland. In their presentation, the model is evaluated only by a global comparison of its overall output behavior with that of children. There is no unpacking of its underlying theoretical assumptions so as to contrast them with those of a symbolic rule-based alternative, or indeed any alternative. As a result, there is no apportioning of credit or blame for the model's performance to properties that are essential versus accidental, or unique to it versus shared by any equally explicit alternative. In particular, Rumelhart and McClelland do not consider what it is about the standard symbol-processing theories that makes them "standard", beyond their first-order ability to relate stem and past tense. To these ends, we analyze the assumptions and consequences of the RM model, as compared to those of symbolic theories, and point out the crucial tests that distinguish them. In particular, we seek to determine whether the RM model is viable as a theory of human language acquisition -- there is no question that it is a valuable demonstration of some of the surprising things that PDP models are capable of, but our concern is whether it is an accurate model of children.
Our analysis will lead to the following conclusions:
The paper is organized as follows. First, we examine in broad outline the phenomena of English verbal inflection. Then we describe the operation of the RM model and how it contrasts with the rule-based alternative, evaluating the merits of each. This amounts to an evaluation of the model in terms of its ability to handle the empirical properties of language in its adult state. In the next major section, we evaluate the model in terms of its ability to handle the empirical properties of children's path of development toward the adult state, comparing it with a simple model of symbolic rule acquisition. Finally, we evaluate the status of the radical claims about connectionism that were motivated by the RM model, and we determine the extent to which the performance of the RM model is a direct consequence of properties of its PDP architecture and thus bears on the promise of parallel distributed processing models in accounting for language and language acquisition.
Rumelhart and McClelland aim to describe part of the system of verbal inflection in English. As background to our examination of their model, we briefly review the structure of the English verb, and present the basic flavor of a rule-based account of it.[Valuable linguistic studies of the English verbal system include Bloch (1947), Bybee and Slobin (1982), Curme (1935), Fries (1940), Hoard and Sloat (1973), Hockett (1942), Jespersen (1942), Mencken (1936), Palmer (1930), Sloat and Hoard (1971), Sweet (1892). Chomsky and Halle (1968) and Kiparsky (1982a, b) are important general works touching on aspects of the system.] When we evaluate the RM model, many additional details about the facts of English inflection and about linguistic theories of its structure will be presented.
English inflectional morphology is not notably complicated. Where the verb of classical Greek has about 350 distinct forms and the verb of current Spanish or Italian about 50, the regular English verb has exactly four:
@ee[As is typical in morphological systems, there is rampant syncretism -- use of the same phonological form to express different, often unrelated morphological categories. On syntactic grounds we might distinguish 13 categories filled by the four forms.a. walk b. walks c. walked d. walking
]
a. -@o<0/>
Present- everything but 3rd person singular:
I, you, we, they open.
Infinitive:
They may open, They tried to open.
Imperative:
Open!
Subjunctive:
They insisted that it open.
b. -s
Present- 3rd person singular:
He, she, it opens.
c. -ed
Past:
It opened.
Perfect Participle:
It has opened.
Passive Participle:
It was being opened.
Verbal adjective:
A recently-opened box.
d. -ing
Progressive Participle:
He is opening.
Present participle:
He tried opening the door.
Verbal noun (gerund):
His incessant opening of the boxes.
Verbal adjective:
A quietly-opening door.
The system is rendered more interesting by the presence of about 180 'strong'
or 'irregular' verbs, which form the past tense other than by simple
suffixation. There are, however, far fewer than 180 ways of modifying a stem
to produce a strong past tense; the study upon which Rumelhart and McClelland
depend, Bybee & Slobin (1982), divides the strong group into 9 coarse and
somewhat heterogeneous subclasses, which we discuss later. (See the Appendix
for a precis of the entire system.)
Many strong verbs also maintain a further formal distinction, lost in (ENGMORPHc), between the past tense itself and the Perfect/Passive Participle, which is frequently marked with -en: 'he ate' vs. 'he has, was eaten'. These verbs mark the outermost boundary of systematic complexity in English, giving the learner five forms to keep track of, two of which -- past and perfect/passive participle -- are not predictable from totally general rules.(Somewhat beyond this bound lies the verb 'be' with 8 distinct forms: be, am, is, are, was, were, been, being, of which only the last is regular.)
Rumelhart and McClelland write that "We chose the study of acquisition of past tense in part because the phenomenon of regularization is an example often cited in support of the view that children do respond according to general rules of language." What they mean is that when Berko (1958) first documented children's ability to inflect novel verbs for past tense (e.g. jicked), and when Ervin (1964) documented overregularizations of irregular past tense forms in spontaneous speech (e.g. breaked), it was effective evidence against any notion that language acquisition consisted of rote imitation. But it is important to note the general point that the ability to generalize beyond rote forms is not the only motivation for using rules (as behaviorists were quick to point out in the 1960's when they offered their own accounts of generalization). In fact, even the existence of competing modes of generalizing, such as the different past tense forms of regular and irregular verbs or of regular verbs ending in different consonants, is not the most important motivation for positing distinct rules. Rather, rules are generally invoked in linguistic explanations in order to factor a complex phenomenon into simpler components that feed representations into one another. Different types of rules apply to these intermediate representations, forming a cascade of structures and rule components. Rules are individuated not only because they compete and mandate different transformations of the same input structure (such as break -- breaked / broke), but because they apply to different kinds of structures, and thus impose a factoring of a phenomenon into distinct components, rather than generating the phenomena in a single step mapping inputs to outputs. Such factoring allows orthogonal generalizations to be extracted and stated separately, so that observed complexity can arise through interaction and feeding of independent rules and processes, which often have rather different parameters and domains of relevance. This is immediately obvious in most of syntax, and indeed, in most domains of cognitive processing (which is why the acquisition and use of internal representations in "hidden units" is an important technical problem in connectionist modeling; see Hinton & Sejnowski, 1986; Rumelhart, Hinton, and Williams, 1986).
However, it is not as obvious at first glance how rules feed each other in the case of past tense inflection. Thus to examine in what sense the RM model "has no rules" and thus differs from symbolic accounts, it is crucial to spell out how the different rules in the symbolic accounts are individuated in terms of the components they are associated with.
There is one set of "rules" inherent in the generation of the past tense in
English that is completely outside the mapping that the RM model computes:
those governing the interaction between the use of the past tense form and the
type of sentence the verb appears in, which depends on semantic factors such as
the relationship between the times of the speech act, referent event, and a
reference point, combined with various syntactic and lexical factors such as
the choice of a matrix verb in a complex sentence (I helped her leave/*left
versus I know she left/*leave) and the modality and mood of a sentence (I
went/*go yesterday versus I didn't go/*went yesterday; If my grandmother
had/*has balls she'd be my grandfather). In other words, a speaker doesn't
choose to produce a past tense form of a verb when and only when he or she is
referring to an event taking place before the act of speaking. The distinction
between the mechanisms governing these phenomena, and those that associate
individual stems and past tense forms, is implicitly accepted by Rumelhart and
McClelland. That is, presumably the RM model would be embedded in a collection
of networks that would pretty much reproduce the traditional picture of there
being one set of syntactic and semantic mechanisms that selects occasions for
use of the past tense, feeding information into a distinct morphological-
phonological system that associates individual stems with their tensed forms.
As such, one must be cautious at the outset in saying that the RM model is an
alternative to a rule-based account of the past tense in general; at most, it
is an alternative to whatever decomposition is traditionally assumed within the
part of grammar that associates stems and past tense forms.
In symbolic accounts, this morphological-phonological part is subject to
further decomposition. In particular, rule-based accounts rely on several
fundamental distinctions:
The picture that emerges looks like this:
Rumelhart and McClelland goal is to model the acquisition of the past tense,
specifically the production of the past tense, considered in isolation from the
rest of the English morphological system. They assume that the acquisition
process establishes a direct mapping from the phonetic representation of the
stem to the phonetic representation of the past tense form. The model therefore
takes the following basic shape:
The detailed structure of the RM model is portrayed in Figure 1.
In its trained state, the pattern associator is supposed to take any stem as
input and emit the corresponding past tense form. The model's pattern
associator is a simple network with two layers of nodes, one for representing
input, the other for output. Each node represents a different property that an
input item may have. Nodes in the RM model may only be 'on' or 'off'; thus the
nodes represent binary features, 'off' and 'on' marking the simple absence or
presence of a certain property. Each stem must be encoded as a unique subset
of turned-on input nodes; each possible past tense form as a unique subset of
output nodes turned on.
Here a nonobvious problem asserts itself. The natural assumption would be that
words are strings on an alphabet, a concatenation of phonemes. But each datum
fed to a network must decompose into an unordered set of properties (coded as
turned-on units), and a string is a prime example of an ordered entity. To
overcome this, Rumelhart and McClelland turn to a scheme proposed by Wickelgren
(1969), according to which a string is represented as the set of the trigrams
(3-character-sequences) that it contains. (In order to locate word-edges,
which are essential to phonology and morphology, it is necessary to assume that
word-boundary (#) is a character in the underlying alphabet.) Rumelhart and
McClelland call such trigrams Wickelphones. Thus a word like 'strip'
translates, in their notation, to {#st ,
str , tri , rip ,
ip# }. Note that the
translates, in their notation, to { s , t , r , i , p }. Note that the
word 'strip' is uniquely reconstructible from the cited trigram set. Although
certain trigram sets are consistent in principle with more than one string,
Rumelhart and McClelland find that all words in their sample are uniquely
encoded. Crucially, each possible trigram must be construed as an atomic
property that a string may have or lack. Thus, writing it out as we did above
is misleading, because the order of the five Wickelphones is not represented
anywhere in the RM system, and there is no selective access to the "central"
phoneme t in a Wickelphone t or to the "context" phonemes X and X . It is
more faithful to the actual mechanism to list the Wickelphones in arbitrary
(e.g. alphabetical) order and avoid any spurious internal decomposition of
Wickelphones, hence: {ip#, rip, str, tri, #st}.
For immediate expository purposes, we can think of each unit in the input layer
of the network as standing for one of the possible Wickelphones; likewise for
each unit in the output layer. Any given word is encoded as a pattern of node
activations over the whole set of Wickelphone nodes -- as a set of
Wickelphones. This gives a "distributed" representation: an individual word
does not register on its own node, but is analyzed as an ensemble of
properties, Wickelphones, which are the true primitives of the system. As
Figure 1 shows, Rumelhart and McClelland require an "encoder" of unspecified
nature to convert an ordered phonetic string into a set of activated
Wickelphone units; we discuss some of its properties later.
The Wickelphone contains enough context to detect in gross the kind of
input-output relationships found in the stem-to-past tense mapping. Imagine a
pattern associator mapping from input Wickelphones to output Wickelphones. As
is usual in such networks, every input node is connected to every output node,
giving each input Wickelphone node the chance to influence every node in the
output Wickelphone set. Suppose that a set of input nodes is turned on,
representing an input to the network. Whether a given output node will turn on
is determined jointly by the strength of its connections to the active input
nodes and by the output node's own overall susceptibility to influence, its
'threshold'. The individual on/off decisions for the output units are made
probabilistically, on the basis of the discrepancy between total input and
threshold: the nearer the input is to the threshold, the more random the
decision.
An untrained pattern associator starts out with no preset relations between
input and output nodes -- link weights at zero -- or with random input-output
relations; it's a tabula rasa that is either blank or meaninglessly noisy.
(Rumelhart & McClelland's is blank.) Training involves presenting the network
with an input form (in the present case, a representation of a stem) and
comparing the output pattern actually obtained with the desired pattern for the
past tense form, which is provided to the network by a "teacher" as a distinct
kind of "teaching" input (not shown in Figure 1). The corresponding
psychological assumption is that the child, through some unspecified process,
has already figured out which past tense form is to be associated with which
stem form. We call this the "juxtaposition process"; Rumelhart and McClelland
adopt the not unreasonable idealization that it does not interact with the
process of abstracting the nature of the mapping between stem and past forms.
The comparison between the actual output pattern computed by the connections
between input and output nodes, and the desired pattern provided by the
"teacher", is made on a node- by-node basis. Any output node that is in the
wrong state becomes the target of adjustment. If the network ends up leaving a
node off that ought to be on according to the teacher, changes are made to
render that node more likely to fire in the presence of the particular input at
hand. Specifically, the weights on the links connecting active input units to
the recalcitrant output unit are increased slightly; this will increase the
tendency for the currently active input units -- those that represent the input
form -- to activate the target node. In addition, the target node's own
threshold is lowered slightly, so that it will tend to turn on more easily
across the board. If, on the other hand, the network incorrectly turns an
output node on, the reverse procedure is employed: the weights of the
connections from currently active input units are decremented (potentially
driving the connection weight to a negative, inhibitory value) and the target
node's threshold is raised; a hyperactive output node is thus made more likely
to turn off given the same pattern of input node activation. Repeated cycling
through input-output pairs, with concomitant adjustments, shapes the behavior
of the pattern associator. This is the "perceptron convergence procedure"
(Rosenblatt, 1962) and it is known to produce, in the limit, a set of weights
that successfully maps the input activation vectors onto the desired output
activation vectors, as long as such a set of weights exists.
In fact, the RM net, following about 200 training cycles of 420 stem-past pairs
(a total of about 80,000 trials), is able to produce correct past forms for the
stems when the stems are presented alone, that is, in the absence of "teaching"
inputs. Somewhat surprisingly, a single set of connection weights in the
network is able to map look to looked, live to lived, melt to melted, hit to
hit, make to made, sing to sang, even go to went. The bits of stored
information accomplishing these mappings are superimposed in the connection
weights and node thresholds; no single parameter corresponds uniquely to a rule
or to any single irregular stem-past pair.
Of course, it is necessary to show how such a network generalizes to stems it
has not been trained on, not only how it reproduces a rote list of pairs. The
circumstances under which generalization occurs in pattern associators with
distributed representations is reasonably well understood. Any encoded (one is
tempted to say 'en-noded') property of the input data that participates in a
frequently attested pattern of input/output relations will play a major role in
the development of the network. Because it is turned on during many training
episodes, and because it stands in a recurrent relationship to a set of output
nodes, its influence will be repeatedly enhanced by the learning procedure. A
connectionist network does more than match input to output; it responds to
regularities in the representation of the data and uses them to accomplish the
mapping it is trained on and to generalize to new cases. In fact, the
distinction between reproducing the memorized input-output pairs and generating
novel outputs for novel inputs is absent from pattern associators: a single set
of weights both reproduces trained pairs and produces novel outputs which are
blends of the output patterns strongly associated with each of the properties
defining the novel input.
The crucial step is therefore the first one: coding the data. If the patterns
in the data relevant to generalizing to new forms are not encoded in the
representation of the data, no network -- in fact, no algorithmic system of any
sort -- will be able to find them. (This is after all the reason that so much
research in the 'symbolic paradigm' has centered on the nature of linguistic
representations.) Since phonological processes and relations (like those
involved in past tense formation) do not treat phonemes as atomic, unanalyzable
wholes but refer instead to their constituent phonetic properties like voicing,
obstruency, tenseness of vowels, and so on, it is necessary that such
fine-grained information be present in the network. The Wickelphone, like the
phoneme, is too coarse to support generalization. To take an extreme example
adapted from Morris Halle, any English speaker who labors to pronounce the
celebrated composer's name as [bax] knows that if there were a verb to Bach,
its past would be baxt and not baxd or bax@o[i-d], even though no existing
English word contains the velar fricative [x]. Any representation that does not
characterize Bach as similar to pass and walk by virtue of ending in an
unvoiced segment would fail to make this generalization. Wickelphones, of
course, have this problem; they treat segments as opaque quarks and fail to
display vital information about segmental similarity classes. A better
representation would have units referring in some way to phonetic features
rather than to phonemes, because of the well-known fact that the correct
dimension of generalization from old to new forms must be in terms of such
features.
Rumelhart and McClelland present a second reason for avoiding Wickelphone
nodes. The number of possible Wickelphones for their representation of English
is 353 + (2 x 352 ) = 45,325 (all triliterals + all
biliterals beginning and
ending with #). The number of distinct connections from the entire input
Wickelvector to its output clone would be over two billion (45,3252 ), too many
to handle comfortably. Rumelhart and McClelland therefore assume a phonetic
decomposition of segments into features which are in broad outline like those
of modern phonology. On the basis of this phonetic analysis, a Wickelphone
dissolves into a set of 'Wickelfeatures', a sequence of 3 features, one from
each of the 3 elements of the Wickelphone. For example, the features
"VowelUnvoicedInterrupted" and "HighStopStop" are two of the Wickelfeatures in
the ensemble that would correspond to the Wickelphone "ipt". In the RM model,
units represent Wickelfeatures, not Wickelphones; Wickelphones themselves play
no role in the model and are only represented implicitly as sets of
Wickelfeatures. Again, there is the potential for nondistinct representations,
but it never occurred in practice for their verb set. Notice that the actual
atomic properties recognized by the model are not phonetic features per se, but
entities that can be thought of as 3-feature sequences. The
Wickelphone/Wickelfeature is an excellent example of the kind of novel
properties that revisionist-symbol-processing connectionism can come up with.
A further refinement is that not all definable Wickelfeatures have units
dedicated to them: the Wickelfeature set was trimmed to exclude, roughly,
feature-triplets whose first and third features were chosen from different
phonetic dimensions.(Although this move was inspired purely by considerations
of computational economy, it or something like it has real empirical support;
the reader familiar with current phonology will recognize its relation to the
notion of a 'tier' of related features in autosegmental phonology.) The end
result is a system of 460 nodes, each one representing a Wickelfeature. One
may calculate that this gives rise to 460 = 211,600 input-output connections.
The module that encodes words into input Wickelfeatures (the "Fixed Encoding
Network" of Figure 1) and the one that decodes output Wickelfeatures into words
(the "Decoding/Binding Network" of Figure 1) are perhaps not meant to be taken
entirely seriously in the current implementation of the RM model, but several
of their properties are crucially important in understanding and evaluating it.
The input encoder is deliberately designed to activate some incorrect
Wickelfeatures in addition to the precise set of Wickelfeatures in the stem:
specifically, a randomly selected subset of those Wickelfeatures that encode
the features of the central phoneme properly but encode incorrect feature
values for one of the two context phonemes. This "blurred" Wickelfeature
representation cannot be construed as random noise; the same set of incorrect
Wickelfeatures is activated every time a word is presented, and no
Wickelfeature encoding an incorrect choice of the central feature is ever
activated. Rather, the blurred representation fosters generalization.
Connectionist pattern associators are always in danger of capitalizing too much
on idiosyncratic properties of words in the training set in developing their
mapping from input to output and hence of not properly generalizing to new
forms. Blurring the input representations makes the connection weights in the
RM model less likely to be able to exploit the idiosyncrasies of the words in
the training set and hence reduces the model's tendency toward conservatism.
The output decoder faces a formidable task. When an input stem is fed into the
model, the result is a set of activated output Wickelfeature units. Which units
are on in the output depends on the current weights of the connections from
active input units and on the probabilistic process that converts the summed
weighted inputs into a decision as to whether or not to turn on. Nothing in
the model ensures that the set of activated output units will fit together to
describe a legitimate word: the set of activated units do not have to have
neighboring context features that "mesh" and hence implicitly "assemble" the
Wickelfeatures into a coherent string; they do not have to be mutually
consistent in the feature they mandate for a given context; and they do not
have to define a set of features for a given position that collectively define
an English phoneme (or any kind of phoneme). In fact, the output Wickelfeatures
virtually never define a word exactly, and so there is no clear sense which one
knows which word the output Wickelfeatures are defining. In many cases,
Rumelhart and McClelland are only interested in assessing how likely the model
seems to be to output a given target word, such as the correct past tense form
for a given stem; in that case they can peer into the model, count the number
of desired Wickelfeatures that are successfully activated and vice-versa, and
calculate the goodness of the match. However, this does not reveal which
phonemes, or which words, the model would actually output.
To assess how likely the model actually is to output a phoneme in a given
context, that is, how likely a given Wickelphone is in the output, a
Wickelphone Binding Network was constructed as part of the output decoder. This
network has units corresponding to Wickelphones; these units "compete" with one
another in an iterative process to "claim" the activated Wickelfeatures: the
more Wickelfeatures that a Wickelphone unit uniquely accounts for, the greater
its strength (Wickelfeatures accounted for by more than one Wickelphone are
"split" in proportion to the number of other Wickelfeatures each Wickelphone
accounts for uniquely) and, supposedly, the more likely that Wickelphone is to
appear in the output. A similar mechanism, called the Whole-String Binding
Network, is defined to estimate the model's relative tendencies to output any
of a particular set of words when it is of interest to compare those words with
one another as possible outputs. Rumelhart and McClelland choose a set of
plausible output words for a given input stem, such as break, broke, breaked
and broked for the past tense of break, and define a unit for each one. The
units then compete for activated Wickelfeatures in the output vector, each one
growing in strength as a function of the number of activated Wickelfeatures it
uniquely accounts for (with credit for nonunique Wickelfeatures split between
the words that can account for it), and diminishing as a function of the number
of activated Wickelfeatures that are inconsistent with it. This amounts to a
forced-choice procedure and still does not reveal what the model would output
if left to its own devices -- which is crucial in evaluating the model's
ability to produce correct past tense forms for stems it has not been trained
on. Rumelhart and McClelland envision an eventual "sequential readout process"
that would convert Wickelfeatures into a single temporally ordered
representation, but for now they make do with a more easily implemented
substitute: an Unconstrained Whole-String Binding Network, which is a
whole-string binding network with one unit for every possible string of
phonemes less than 20 phonemes long -- that is, a forced-choice procedure among
all possible strings. Since this process would be intractable to compute on
today's computers, and maybe even tomorrow's, they created whole-string units
only for a sharply restricted subset of the possible strings, those whose
Wickelphones exceeded a threshold in the Wickelphone binding network
competition. But the set was still fairly large and thus the model was in
principle capable of selecting both correct past tense forms and various kinds
of distortions of them. Even with the restricted set of whole strings available
in the unconstrained whole-string binding network, the iterative competition
process was quite time-consuming in the implementation, and thus Rumelhart and
McClelland ran this network only in assessing the model's ability to produce
past forms for untrained stems; in all other cases, they either counted
features in the output Wickelfeature vector directly, or set up a restricted
forced-choice test among a small set of likely alternatives in the whole-string
binding network.
In sum, the RM model works as follows. The phonological string is cashed in for
a set of Wickelfeatures by an unspecified process that activates all the
correct and some of the incorrect Wickelfeature units. The pattern associator
excites the Wickelfeature units in the output; during the training phase its
parameters (weights and thresholds) are adjusted to reduce the discrepancy
between the excited Wickelfeature units and the desired ones provided by the
teacher. The activated Wickelfeature units may then be decoded into a string
of Wickelphones by the Wickelphone binding network, or into one of a small set
of words by the whole-string binding network, or into a free choice of an
output word by the unconstrained whole-string binding network.
It is possible to practice psycholinguistics with minimal commitment to
explicating the internal representation of language achieved by the learner.
Rumelhart and McClelland's work is emphatically not of this sort. Their model
is offered precisely as a model of internal representation; the learning
process is understood in terms of changes in a representational system as it
converges on the mature state. It embodies claims of the greatest
psycholinguistic interest: it has a theory of phonological representation, a
theory of morphology, a theory (or rather anti-theory) of the role of the
notion 'lexical item', and a theory of the relation between regular and
irregular forms. In no case are these presupposed theories simply transcribed
from familiar views; they constitute a bold new perspective on the central
issues in the study of word-forms, rooted in the exigencies and strengths of
connectionism.
The model largely exemplifies what we have called revisionist-symbol-processing
connectionism, rather than implementational or eliminative connectionism.
Standard symbolic rules are not embodied in it; nor does it posit an utterly
opaque device whose operation cannot be understood in terms of
symbol-processing of any sort. It is possible to isolate an abstract but
unorthodox linguistic theory implicit in the model (though Rumelhart and
McClelland do not themselves consider it in this light), and that theory can be
analyzed and evaluated in the same way that more familiar theories are.
These are the fundamental linguistic assumptions of the RM model:
We will show that each of the listed assumptions grossly mischaracterizes the
domain it is relevant to, in a way that seriously undermines the model's claim
to accuracy and even 'reasonableness'. More positively, we will show how past
tense formation takes its place within a larger, more inclusive system of
phonological and morphological interactions. The properties of the larger
system will provide us with a clear benchmark for measuring the value of
linguistic and psycholinguistic models.
The Wickelphone/Wickelfeature has some useful properties. Rumelhart and
McClelland hold that the finite Wickelphone set can encode strings of arbitrary
length (PDPII, p. 269) and though false this is close enough to being true to
give them a way to distinguish all the words in their data. In addition, a
Wickelphone contains a chunk of context within which phonological dependencies
can be found. These properties allow the RM model to get off the ground. If,
however, the Wickelphone/Wickelfeature is to be taken seriously as even an
approximate model of phonological representation, it must satisfy certain
basic, uncontroversial criteria.[For other critiques of the Wickelphone
hypothesis, antedating the RM model, see Halwes & Jenkins (1971) and Savin &
Bever (1970).]
Preserving Distinctions. First of all, a phonological representation system
for a language must preserve all the distinctions that are actually present in
the language. English orthography is a familiar representational system that
fails to preserve distinctness: for example, the word spelled 'read' may be
read as either [rid] or [r@symbol[e]d].[We will use the following phonetic
notation and terminology (sparingly). Enclosure in square brackets [] indicates
phonetic spelling.
The tense vowels are:
The symbol [C] stands for the voiceless palato-alveolar affricate that appears
twice in church; the symbol [J] for its voiced counterpart, which appears twice
in judge. We will use [S] for the voiceless palato-alveolar fricative of shoe
and [Z] for its voiced counterpart, the final consonant of rouge. The velar
nasal @o[nj] is the final consonant in sing.
The term sonorant consonant refers to the liquids l,r and the nasals m,n, @o
[nj]. The term obstruent refers to the complement set of oral stops,
fricatives and affricates, such as p,t,k,f,s,S,c,b,d,g,v,z,Z,j. The term
coronal refers to sounds made at the dental, alveolar, and palato-alveolar
places of articulation. The term sibilant refers to the conspicuously noisy
fricatives and affricates [s,z,S,Z,c,j].]; whatever its other virtues, spelling
is not an appropriate medium for phonological computation. The Wickelphone
system fails more seriously, because there are distinctions that it is in
principle incapable of handling. Certain patterns of repetitions will map
distinct string-regions onto the same Wickelphone set, resulting in
irrecoverable loss of information. This is not just a mathematical curiosity.
For example, the Australian language Oykangand (Somers, 1977) distinguishes
between albal 'straight' and albalbal 'ramrod straight', different strings
which share the Wickelphone set {alb, al#, bal, lba, #al}, as can be seen from
the analysis in (ALBAL):
Supporting Generalizations. A second, more sophisticated requirement is that a
representation supply the basis for proper generalization. It is here that the
phonetic vagaries of the most commonly encountered representation of English --
its spelling -- receive a modicum of justification. The letter i, for example,
is implicated in the spelling of both [ay] and [I], allowing word-relatedness
to be overtly expressed as identity of spelling in many pairs like those in
(SPELLING):
derive-derivative ]
Consider the fact, noted by Rumelhart and McClelland, that the word silt and
the word slit have no Wickelphones in common: the first goes to {#si, sil, ilt,
lt#}, the second to {#sl, sli, lit, it#}. The implicit claim is that such
pairs have no phonological properties in common. Although this result meets
the need to distinguish the distinct, it shows that Wickelphone composition is
a very unsatisfactory measure of psychological phonetic similarity. Indeed,
historical changes of the type slit --> silt and silt --> slit, based on
phonetic similarity, are fairly common in natural language. In the history of
English, for example, we find hross --> horse, thrid --> third, brid --> bird
(Jespersen, 1942, p.58). On pure Wickelphones such changes are equivalent to
complete replacements; they are therefore no more likely, and no easier to
master, than any other complete replacement, like horse going to slit or bird
to clam. The situation is improved somewhat by the transition to
Wickelfeatures, but remains unsatisfactory. Since phonemes l and i share
features like voicing, Wickelphones like
Even in the home territory of the past tense, Wickelphonology is more an
encumbrance than a guide. The dominant regularity of the language entails that
a verb like kill will simply add one phone [d] in the past; in Wickelphones the
map is as in (KILL):
The "blurring" of the Wickelfeature representation, by which certain input
units XBC and ABZ are turned on in addition to authentic ABC, is a tactical
response to the problem of finding similarities among the input set. The
reason that AYB is not also turned on -- as one would expect, if "blurring"
corresponded to neural noise of some sort -- is in part that XBC and ABZ are
units preserving the empirically significant adjacency pairing of segments: in
many strings of the form ABC, we expect interactions within AB and BC, but not
between A and C. Blurring both A and C helps to model processes in which only
the presence of B is significant, and as Lachter and Bever (1987) show,
partially recreates the notion of the single phoneme as a phonological unit.
Such selective "blurring" is not motivated within Rumelhart and McClelland's
theory or by general principles of PDP architecture; it is an external
imposition that pushes it along more or less in the right direction. Taken
literally, it is scarcely credible: the idea would be that the pervasive
adjacency requirement in phonological processes is due to quasi-random
confusion, rather than structural features of the representational apparatus
and the physical system it serves.
Excluding the Impossible. The third and most challenging requirement we can
place on a representational system is that it should exclude the impossible.
Many kinds of formally simple relations are absent from natural language,
presumably because they cannot be mentally represented. Here the
Wickelphone/Wickelfeature fails spectacularly. A quintessential unlinguistic
map is relating a string to its mirror image reversal (this would relate pit to
tip, brag to garb, dumb to mud, and so on); although neither physiology nor
physics forbids it, no language uses such a pattern. But it is as easy to
represent and learn in the RM pattern associator as the identity map. The rule
is simply to replace each Wickelfeature ABC by the Wickelfeature CBA. In
network terms, assuming link-weights from 0 to 1, weight the lines from ABC -->
CBA at 1 and all the (459) others emanating from ABC at 0. Since all weights
start at 0 for Rumelhart and McClelland, this is exactly as easy to achieve as
weighting the lines ABC --> ABC at 1, with the others from ABC staying at 0;
and it requires considerably less modification of weights than most other
input-output transforms. Unlike other, more random replacements, the S -> SR
map is guaranteed to preserve the stringhood of the input Wickelphone set. It
is easy to define other processes over the Wickelphone that are equally
unlikely to make their appearance in natural language: for example, no process
turns on the identity of the entire first Wickelphone (#AB) or last Wickelphone
(AB#) -- compare in this regard the notions 'first (last) segment', 'first
(last) syllable', frequently involved in actual morphological and phonological
processes, but which appear as arbitrary disjunctions, if reconstructible at
all, in the Wickelphone representation. The Wickelphone tells us as little
about unnatural avenues of generalization as it does about the natural ones.
The root cause, we suggest, is that the Wickelphone is being asked to carry two
contradictory burdens. Division into Wickelphones is primarily a way of
multiplying out possible rule-contexts in advance. Since many phonological
interactions are segmentally local, a Wickelphone-like decomposition into short
substrings will pick out domains in which interaction is likely.
Rumelhart and McClelland display some ambivalence about the Wickelfeature. At
one point they dismiss the computational difficulty of recovering a string from
a Wickelfeature set as one that is easily overcome by parallel processing "in
biological hardware". (p.262) At another point they show how the
Wickelfeature-to-Wickelphone re-conversion can be done in a binding network
that utilizes a certain genus of connectionist mechanisms, implying again that
this process is to be taken seriously as part of the model. Yet they write:
The RM model maps from input to output in a single step, on the assumption that
the past tense derives by a direct phonetic modification of the stem. The
regular endings -t, -d, -@o[i-d], make their appearance in the same way as the
vowel changes i --> a (sing - sang) or u --> o (choose - chose). Rumelhart and
McClelland claim as an advantage of the model that "[a] uniform procedure is
applied for producing the past-tense form in every case." (PDPII, p.267) This
sense of uniformity can be sustained, however, only if past tense formation is
viewed in complete isolation from rest of English phonology and morphology. We
will show that Rumelhart and McClelland's very local uniformity must be paid
for with extreme nonuniformity in the treatment of the broader patterns of the
language.
The distribution of t-d-@o[i-d] follows a simple pattern: @o[i-d] goes after
those stems ending in t or d; elsewhere, t (voiceless itself) goes after a
voiceless segment and d (itself voiced) goes after a voiced segment. The real
interest of this rule is that none of it is specifically bound to the past
tense. The perfect/passive participle and the verbal adjective use the very
same t-d-@o[i-d] scheme: was kicked - was slugged - was patted; a kicked dog -
a flogged horse - a patted cat. These categories cannot be simply identified as
copies of the past tense, because they have their own distinctive irregular
formations. For example, past drank contrasts with the participle drunk and
the verbal adjective drunken. Outside the verbal system entirely there is yet
another process that uses the t-d-@o[i-d] suffix, with the variants distributed
in exactly the same way as in the verb forms, to make adjectives from nouns,
with the meaning 'having X' (Jespersen (1942, p. 426 ff.):
@ee<
-t -d -@o[i-]d
hooked long-nosed one-handed
saber-toothed horned talented
pimple-faced winged kind-hearted
foul-mouthed moneyed warm-blooded
thick-necked bad-tempered bareheaded
>
Category -s -z -@o[i-
z
These 9 categories show syncretism in a big way -- they use the same phonetic
resources to express very different distinctions.
The regular noun plural exactly parallels the 3rd person singular marking of
the verb, despite the fact that the two categories (noun/verb, singular/plural)
have no notional overlap. The rule for choosing among s-z-@o[i-z] is this: @o
[i-z] goes after stems ending in sibilants (s,z,S,Z,C,J); elsewhere, s (itself
voiceless) goes after voiceless segments, z (voiced itself) goes after voiced
segments. The distribution of s/z is exactly the same as that of t/d. The
rule for @o[i-z] differs from that for @o[i-d] only inasmuch as z differs from
d. In both cases the rule functions to separate elements that are phonetically
similar: as the sibilant z is to the sibilants, so the alveolar stop d is to
the alveolar stops t and d.
The possessive marker and the fully reduced forms of the auxiliary has and the
auxiliary/main verb is repeat the pattern. These three share the further
interesting property that they attach not to nouns but to noun phrases, with
the consequence that in ordinary colloquial speech they can end up on any kind
of word at all, as shown in (NP) below:
The reason that the voiced/voiceless choice is made identically throughout
English morphology is not hard to find: it reflects the prevailing and
inescapable phonetics of consonant cluster voicing in the language at large.
Even in unanalyzable words, final obstruent clusters have a single value for
the voicing feature; we find only words like these:
Let's see how the cross-categorial generalizations that govern the surface
shape of English morphemes can be given their due in a rule system. Suppose
the phonetic content of the past tense marker is just /d/ and that of the
diverse morphemes in () is /z/. There is a set of morphological rules that say
how morphemes are assembled into words: for example, Verb-past = stem + /d/;
Noun-pl = stem + /z/; Verb-3psg = stem + /z/. Given this, we can invoke a
single rule to derive the occurrences of [t] and [s]:
The environment of the variant with the reduced vowel @o[i-] is similarly
constant across all morphological categories, entailing the same sort of
uniform treatment. Here again the simplex forms in the English vocabulary
provide the key to understanding: in no case are the phonetic sequences [tt],
[dd], [sibilant-sibilant] tolerated at the end of unanalyzable words, or even
inside them (This is of course a phonological restriction, not an orthographic
one. The words petty and pity, for example, have identical consonantal
phonology). English has very strong general restrictions against the
clustering of identical or highly similar consonants. These are not mere
conventions deriving from vocabulary statistics, but real limitations on what
native speakers of English have learned to pronounce. (Such sequences are
allowed in other languages.) Consequently, forms like [skIdd] from skid + /d/
or [j^jz] from judge + /z/ are quite impossible. To salvage them, a vowel
comes in to separate the ending from a too-similar stem final consonant. We
can informally state the rule as (VI):
Whatever the ultimate fate of the details of the competition, it is abundantly
clear that the English system turns on a fundamental distinction between
phonology and morphology. Essential phonological and phonetic processes are
entirely insensitive to the specifics of morphological composition and sweep
across categories with no regard for their semantic or syntactic content. Such
processes define equivalences at one level over items that are distinct at the
level of phonetics: for English suffixes, t = d = @o[i-d] and s = z = @o[i-z].
As a consequence, the learner infers that there is one suffix for the regular
past, not three; and one suffix, not three, for each of plural, 3rd person
singular, possessive, and so on. The phonetic differences emerge
automatically; as would be expected in such cases, uninstructed native speakers
typically have no awareness of them.
Rumelhart and McClelland's pattern associator is hobbled by a doctrine we might
dub "morphological localism": the assumption that there is for each
morphological category an encapsulated system that handles every detail of its
phonetics. This they mischaracterize as a theoretically desirable
"uniformity". In fact, morphological localism destroys uniformity by preventing
generalization across categories and by excluding inference based on
larger-scale regularities. Thus it is inconsistent with the fact that the
languages that people learn are shaped by these generalizations and inferences.
The Shape of the System. It is instructive to note that although the various
English morphemes discussed earlier all participate in the general phonological
patterns of the language, like the past tense they can also display their own
particularities and subpatterns. The 3rd person singular is extremely regular,
with a few lexical irregularities (is, has, does, says) and a lexical class
(modal auxiliaries) that can't be inflected (can, will, etc.). The plural has
a minuscule number of non-/z/ forms (oxen, children, geese, mice,...), a @o
[0/]- suffixing class (sheep, deer), and a fricative-voicing subclass
(leaf-leaves, wreath-wreathes). The possessive admits no lexical peculiarities
(outside of the pronouns), presumably because it adds to phrases rather than
lexical items, but it is lost after plural /z/ (men's vs. dogs') and
sporadically after other z's. The fully reduced forms of is and has admit no
lexical or morphologically-based peculiarities whatever, presumably because
they are syntactic rather than lexical.
From these observations, we can put together a general picture of how the
morphological system works. There are some embracing regularities:
It is a nontrivial problem to design a device that arrives at this
characterization on its own. An unanalyzed single module like the RM pattern
associator that maps from features to features cannot do so.
The notion of a 'word' or 'morpheme' is so basic to our intuitive understanding
of language that it is easy to forget the role it plays in systematic
linguistic explanation. As a result, use of the representational structure
known as a 'lexical item' might be seen as mere tradition, and one of the
revolutionary aspects of the RM model -- that it contains nothing corresponding
to a lexical item other than the set of phone sequences it contains -- might be
dismissed as a harmless iconoclasm. Here we show that, on the contrary, lexical
items as explicit representations play a crucial role in many linguistic
phenomena.
The pattern associator suffers from a fundamental design problem which prevents
it from truly grasping even the simplest morphological generalization. Because
the relation between stem and past tense is portrayed as a transduction from
one low-level featural representation to another, literally replacing every
feature in the input, it becomes an inexplicable accident that the regular
formation rule preserves the stem unaltered. The identity map has no cachet in
the pattern associator; it is one among very many (including the reverse map)
that happen to produce strings in the output. Yet a tendency toward
preservation of stem identity, a typical linguistic phenomenon, is an immediate
consequence of the existence of morphology as a level of description: if the
rule is Word = Stem + Affix, then ceteris paribus the stem comes through. What
makes ceteris not exactly paribus is the potential existence of phonological
and phonetic accommodations, but even these will be relatively minute in a
properly formulated theory.
The other side of the morphological coin is the preservation of affix identity.
The suffixal variants t and d are matched with @o[i-d], not with @o[i-z] or oz
or og or any other conceivable but phonetically distant form. Similarly,
morphemes which show the s/z variants take @o[i-z] in the appropriate
circumstances, not @o[i-d] or od or gu. This follows directly from our
hypothesis that the morphemes in question have just one basic phonetic content
-- /d/ or /z/ -- which is subject to minor contextual adjustments. The RM
model, however, cannot grasp this generalization. To see this, consider the
Wickelphone map involved in the @o[i-d] case, using the verb melt as an
example:
a. {#me, mel, elt, lt#} --> {#me, mel, elt, lt@o[i-], t@o[i-]d, @o[i-]d#}
b. lt# --> lt@o[i-], t@o[i-]d, @o[i-]d#
The generalizations that the RM model extracts consist of specific correlations
between particular phone sequences in the stem and particular phone sequences
in the past form. Since the model contains no symbol corresponding to a stem
per se, independent of the particular phone sequences that happen to have
exemplified the majority of stems in the model's history, it cannot make any
generalization that refers to stems per se, cutting across their individual
phonetic contents. Thus a morphological process like reduplication, which in
many languages copies an entire stem (e.g. yielding forms roughly analogous to
dum-dum and boom-boom), cannot be acquired in its fully general form by the
network. In many cases it can "memorize" particular patterns of reduplication,
consisting of mappings between particular feature sequences and their
reduplicated counterparts (though even here problems can arise because of the
poverty of the Wickelfeature representation, as we pointed out in discussing
Wickelphonology), but the concept "Copy the stem" itself is unlearnable; there
is no unitary representation of a thing to be copied and no operation
consisting of copying a variable regardless of its specific content. Thus when
a new stem comes in that does not share many features with the ones encountered
previously, it will not match any stored patterns and reduplication will not
apply to it.[It is worth noting that reduplication, which always calls on a
variable (if not 'stem', then 'syllable' or 'foot') is one of the most commonly
used strategies of word-formation. In one form or another, it's found in
hundreds, probably thousands, of the world's languages. For detailed analysis,
see McCarthy & Prince (forthcoming).]
The point strikes closer to home as well. The English regular past tense rule
adds an affix to a stem. The rule doesn't care about the contents of the stem;
it mentions a variable, "stem", that is cashed in independently for information
stored in particular lexical entries. Thus the rule, once learned, can apply
across the board independent of the set of stems encountered in the learner's
history. The RM model, on the other hand, learns the past tense alternation by
linking phonetic features of inflected forms directly to the particular affix
features of the stem (for example, in pat - patted the @O[-i]d# Wickelfeatures
are linked directly to the entire set of features for pat: #pa@kern[2 pointse],
pa@kern[2 pointset], etc.) Though much of the activation for the affix features
eventually is contributed by some stem features that cut across many individual
stems, such as those at the end of a word, not all of it is; some contribution
from the word-specific stem features that are well-represented in the input
sample can play a role as well. Thus the RM model could fail to generate any
past tense form for a new stem if the stem did not share enough features with
those stems that were encountered in the past and that thus grew their own
strong links with past tense features. When we examine the performance of the
RM model, we will see how some of its failures can probably be attributed to
the fact that what it learns is associated with particular phone sequences as
opposed to variables standing for stems in general.
For the RM model, membership in the strong classes is determined entirely by
phonological criteria; there is no notion of a "lexical item", as distinct from
the phone-sequences that makes up the item, to which an `irregular' tag can be
affixed. In assessing their model, Rumelhart and McClelland write:
The sequence [k^m] belongs to the strong system when it spells the morpheme
come, not otherwise: contrast become, overcome with succumb, encumber.
An excellent source of counterexamples to the claim that past tense formation
collapses the distinctions between words and their featural decomposition is
supplied by verbs derived from other categories (like nouns or adjectives). The
significance of these examples, which were first noticed in Mencken (1936), has
been explored in Kiparsky (1982a, b)(Note 1)
In some cases, there is a circuitous path of derivation: V --> N --> V. But the
end product, having passed through nounhood, must be regular no matter what the
status of the original source verb. (By "derivation" we refer to relations
intuitively grasped by the native speaker, not to historical etymology.) The
baseball verb to fly out, meaning 'make an out by hitting a fly ball that gets
caught', is derived from the baseball noun fly (ball), meaning 'ball hit on a
conspicuously parabolic trajectory', which is in turn related to the simple
strong verb fly 'proceed through the air'. Everyone says "he flied out"; no
mere mortal has yet been observed to have "flown out" to left field.
Similarly, the noun stand in the lexical compound grandstand is surely felt by
speakers to be related to the homophonous strong verb, but once made a noun its
verbal irregularity cannot be resurrected: *he grandstood. A derived noun
cannot retain any verbal properties of its base, like irregular tense
formation, because nouns in general can't have properties such as tense. Thus
it is not simply derivation that erases idiosyncrasy, but departure from the
verb class: stand retains its verbal integrity in the verbs withstand,
understand, as throw does in the verbs overthrow, underthrow.
One might be tempted to try to explain these phenomena in terms of the meanings
of regular and irregular versions of a verb. For example, Lakoff (1987) appeals
to the distinction between the 'central' and 'extended' senses of polysemous
words, and claims that irregularity attaches only to the 'central sense' of an
item. It is a remarkable fact -- indeed, an insult to any naive idea that
linguistic form is driven by meaning -- that polysemy is irrelevant to the
regularization phenomenon. In the first place, Lakoff's proposed
generalization is not sound. Consider these examples:
]
To master the actual system, then, the learner must have access to lexical
information about each item, ranging from its derivational status (is the item
a primitive root? is it derived from a noun or another verb?) to its specific
lexical identity (is the item at hand ring or wring, hang1 or
hang2 , lie1 or
lie2 , etc.?). The RM model does without the notion 'lexical item' at the cost
of major lapses in accuracy and coverage.
Our basic finding is independent of how the notion 'lexical item' is
implemented. If a lexical item is a distributed pattern of activation -- that
is to say, just a set of semantic, syntactic, morphological, and phonological
features -- it remains true that past tense formation must be sensitive to
various aspects of the pattern. It is hardly acceptable, however, to allow
past tense formation (or morphology in general) to access every scrap of
lexical information. Categorial information like root vs. derived status
figures in the morphology of language after language, and with comparable
effects, whereas the specific semantic distinctions between, say, ring and
wring are hardly the basis for any real generalization. (Such verbs could have
their class assignments reversed with no consequences for the rest of the
language. We return to this point in Sections DISTREP and UNCONCORR.) What's
important is that ring @o[=/] wring, hang1 @o[=/] hang2 ; that they are not the
same items. From such cases, it is clear that classification is not driven by
any particular feature of the lexical item; rather, arbitrary assignment to a
strong class is itself a lexical feature. Because morphology is sensitive to
gross distinctness (@symbol[a] is not the same as @symbol[b]) rather than to
every possible semantic, syntactic, and pragmatic fillip, we can conclude that
lexical items do indeed possess an accessible local identity as well as a
distributed featural decomposition.
The RM model embodies the claim that the distinction between regular and
irregular modes of formation is spurious. At this point, we have established
the incorrectness of two assumptions that were supposed to support the broader
claim of uniformity.
Assumption #2. "The inflectional class of any verb (regular,
subregular, irregular) can be determined from its phonological
representation alone." We have seen that membership in the strong
classes depends on lexical and morphological information.
The strong classes are often held together, if not exactly defined, by phonetic
similarity. The most pervasive constraint is monosyllabism: 90% of the strong
verbs are monosyllabic, and the rest are composed of a monosyllable combined
with an unstressed prefix. The polysyllabic strong verbs are
- become, befall, beget, begin, behold, beset, beshit, bespeak
- forbear, forbid, forget, forgive, forgo, forsake, forswear, foretell
- mistake
- partake
- understand, undergo
- upset
- withdraw, withstand
Within the various classes, there are often significant additional resemblances
holding between the members. Consider the following sample of typical classes,
arranged by pattern of change in past and past participle ("x - y - z" will
mean that the verb has the vowel x in its stem, y in its past tense form, and z
in its past participle). Our judgments about the cited forms are indicated as
follows: ?Verb means that usage of the irregular past form of Verb is somewhat
less natural than usual; ??Verb means that Verb is archaic or
recherche-sounding in the past tense.
Some Strong Verb Types
b. [e] - [U] - [e]+en
take, mistake, forsake, shake
c. [ay] - [aw] - [aw]
bind, find, grind, wind
d. [d] - [t] - [t]
bend, send, spend, ?lend, ??rend
build
e. [@symbol[e]] - [O] - [O]+n
swear, tear, wear, ?bear, ??forswear, ??forbear,
get, forget, ??beget
?tread
Most of the multi-verb classes in the system are in fact organized around
clusters of words that rhyme and share other structural similarities, which we
will call hypersimilarities. (The interested reader is referred to the Appendix
for a complete listing.) The regular system shows no signs of such
organization. As we have seen, the regular morpheme can add onto any phonetic
form -- even those most heavily tied to the strong system, as long as the
lexical item involved is not a primary verb root.
The strong classes often have a kind of prototypicality structure. Along the
phonetic dimension, Bybee and Slobin (1982) point out that class cohesion can
involve somewhat disjunctive 'family resemblances' rather than satisfaction of
a strict set of criteria. In the blow-class (a), for example, the central
exemplars are blow, grow, throw, all of the form [CRo], where R is a sonorant.
The verb know [no] lacks the initial C in the modern language, but otherwise
behaves like the exemplars. The stems draw [drO] and slay [sle] fit a slightly
generalized pattern [CRV] and take the generalized pattern x - u - x in place
of o - u - o. The verb fly [flay] has the diphthong [ay] for the vowel slot in
[CRV], which is unsurprising in the context of English phonology, but unlike
draw and slay it takes the concrete pattern of changes in the exemplars: x - u
- o rather than x - u - x. Finally, all take -n in the past participle.
Another kind of prototypicality has to do with the degree to which strong forms
allow regular variants. (This need not correlate with phonetic centrality --
notice that all the words in the blow-class are quite secure in their irregular
status.) Consider the class of verbs which add -t and lax the stem-vowel:
Notice the hypersimilarities uniting the class: the almost exclusive
prevalence of the vowel [i]; the importance of the terminations [-ip] and
[-il].
The parenthetical material contains coexisting variants of the past forms that,
according to our judgments, are acceptable to varying degrees. The range of
prototypicality runs from `can only be strong' (keep) through `may be either'
(leap) to `may possibly be strong' (dream). The source of such variability is
probably the low but nonzero frequency of the irregular form, often due to the
existence of conflicting but equally high-status dialects (see Bybee, 1985).
The regular system, on the other hand, does not have prototypical exemplars and
does not have a gradient of variation of category membership defined by
dimensions of similarity. For example, there appears to be no sense in which
walked is a better or worse example of the past tense form of walk than
genuflected is of genuflect. In the case at hand, there is no reason to assume
that regular verbs such as peep, reap function as a particularly powerful
attracting cluster, pulling weep, creep, leap away from irregularity.
Historically, we can clearly see attraction in the opposite direction:
according to the OED, knelt appears first in the 19th century; such regular
verbs as heal, peel, peal, reel, seal, squeal failed to protect it; as regular
forms they could not do so, on our account, because their phonetic similarity
is not perceived as relevant to their choice of inflection, so they do not form
an attracting cluster.
The behavior of low-frequency forms suggests that the stem and its strong past
are actually regarded as distinct lexical items, while a regular stem and its
inflected forms, no matter how rare, are regarded as a expressions of a single
item.
Consider the verb forgo: though uncommon, it retains a certain liveliness,
particularly in the sarcastic phrase "forgo the pleasure of...". The past
tense must surely be forwent rather than *forgoed, but it seems entirely
unusable. Contrast the following example, due to Jane Grimshaw:
Similarly but more subtly, we find a difference in naturalness between stem and
past tense when the verbs bear and stand mean `tolerate':
@ee< a. I don't know how she bears it.
b. (?) I don't know how she bore it.
c. I don't know how she stands him.
d. (?) I don't know how she stood him. >
The verb rend enjoys a marginal subsistence in the phrase rend the fabric of
society, yet the past seems slightly odd: The Vietnam War rent the fabric of
American society. The implication is that familiarity can accrue
differentially to stem and past tense forms; the use of one in a given context
does not always entail the naturalness of the other.
This phenomenon appears to be absent from the regular system. There are
regular verbs that are trapped in a narrow range of idioms, like eke in "eke
out", crook in "crook one's finger", stint in "stint no effort", yet all
inflected forms seem equivalent. Furthermore, rare or self-conscious verbs
like anastomose, fleech, fleer, incommode, prescind show no further increment
of oddness or uncertainty in the past tense. Suppose that it is only the items
actually listed in the lexicon that gain familiarity, rather than each
individual inflected form. If regular forms are rule-generated from a single
listed item, then all forms should freely inherit statistics from each other.
Irregular forms, on the other hand, listed because unpredictable, should be
able to part company even if they belong to a single paradigm.
Even when a verb matches the characteristic patterns of any of the classes in
the strong system, no matter how closely, there can be no guarantee that the
verb will be strong. If the verb is strong, its similarity to the
characteristic patterns of the subclasses cannot always predict which of these
subclasses it will fall into. Verbs like flow, glow, crow are as similar to
the words in the set blow, grow, throw, know as the members of the set are to
each other; yet they remain regular. (Indeed, crow has turned regular in the
last few hundred years.) As for subcategorization into one of the strong
subclasses, consider the clear subregularity associated with the [I - a@kern[2
points]e - ^] and [I - ^ - ^] vowel- change classes:
(b) I - ^ - ^
cling, sling, sting, string, swing, wring, fling(?flinged/flung), slink
stick
dig
The regular system, in contrast, offers complete predictability.
The rules that determine the shape of the regular morphemes of English are
examples of true phonological (or even phonetic) rules: they examine a narrow
window of the string and make a small-scale change. Such rules have necessary
and sufficient conditions, which must be satisfied by elements present in the
window under examination in order for the rule to apply. The conditioning
factors are intrinsically connected with the change performed. Voicelessness
in the English suffixes directly reflects the voicelessness of the stem-final
consonant. Insertion of the vowel @o[i-] resolves the inadmissible adjacency of
(what English speakers regard as) excessively similar consonants.
The relations between stem and past tense in the various strong verb classes
are defined on phonological substance, but the factors affecting the
relationship are not like those found in true phonological rules. In
particular, the changes are for the most part entirely unmotivated by
phonological conditions in the string. There is nothing in the environment b_nd
that encourages [ay] to become [aw]; nothing about [CRo], the basic scheme of
the blow- class, that causes a change to [CRu] or makes such a change more
likely than in some other environment. These are arbitrary though easily
definable changes tied arbitrarily to certain canonical forms, in order to mark
an abstract morphological category: past tense. The patterns of similarity
binding the classes together actually play no causal role in determining the
changes that occur. A powerful association may exist, but it is merely
conventional and could quite easily be otherwise (and indeed in the different
dialects of the language spoken now or in the past, there are many different
systems). Similarity relations serve essentially to qualify entry into a
strong class rather than to provide an environment that causes a rule to
happen.
There is one region of the strong system where discernibly phonological factors
do play a role: the treatment of stems ending in [-t] and [-d]. No strong
verb takes the suffix @o[i-]d (bled/*bledded, got/*gotted); the illicit cluster
that would be created by suffixing /d/ is resolved instead by eliminating the
suffix. This is a strategy that closely resembles the phonological process of
degemination (simplification of identical adjacent consonants to a single
consonant), which is active elsewhere in English. Nevertheless, if we examine
the class of affected items, we see the same arbitrariness, prototypicality,
and incomplete predictiveness we have found above. Consider the "no-change"
class, which uses a single form for stem, past tense, and past participle -- by
far the largest single class of strong verbs, with about 25 members. In these
examples, a word preceded by '?' has no natural-sounding past tense form in our
dialect; words followed by two alternatives in parentheses have two possible
forms, often with one of them (indicated by '?') worse-sounding than the other:
Morphological classification responds to fairly large-scale measures on word
structure: is the word a monosyllable? does it rhyme with a key exemplar? does
it alliterate (begin with the a similar consonant cluster) as an exemplar?
Phonological rules look for different and much more local configurations: is
this segment an obstruent that follows a voiceless consonant? are these
adjacent consonants nearly identical in articulation? In many ways, the two
vocabularies are kept distinct: we are not likely to find a morphological
subclass holding together because its members each contain somewhere inside
them a pair of adjacent obstruents; nor will we find a rule of voicing-spread
that applies only in rhyming monosyllables. If an analytical engine is to
generalize effectively over language data, it can ill afford to look upon
morphological classification and phonological rules as processes of the same
formal type.
We have found major differences between the strong system and the regular
system, supporting the view that the strong system is a cluster of irregular
patterns, with only the -ing forms and perhaps the no-change forms displaying
some active life as partially generalizable subregularities in the adult
language. Membership in the strong system is governed by several criteria: (1)
monosyllabism; (2) nonderived verb root status; (3) for the subregularities,
resemblance to key exemplars. This means that the system is largely closed,
particularly because verb roots very rarely enter the language (new verbs are
common enough, but are usually derived from nouns, adjectives, or onomatopoetic
expressions). At a few points in history, there have been borrowed items that
have met all the criteria: quit and cost are both from French, for example
(Jespersen, 1942). The regular system is free from such constraint. No
canonical structure is required -- for example, 'not a monosyllable'. No
information about derivational status is required, such as 'must not be derived
from an adjective'. Phonetic similarity to an exemplar plays no role either.
Furthermore, the behavior of regular verbs is entirely predictable on general
grounds. The regular rule of formation is an extremely simple default with
very few characteristics of its own -- perhaps only one, as we suggest above:
that the morpheme is a stop rather than a fricative.
The regular system also has an internal default structure that is worthy of
note, since it contrasts with the RM model's propensities. The rule Past =
stem + /d/ covers all possible cases. Under narrowly defined circumstances,
some phonology takes place: a vowel intrudes to separate stem and affix,
voicelessness propagates from the stem. Elsewhere -- the default case --
nothing happens. It appears that language learners are fond of such
architectures, which appear repeatedly in languages. (Indeed, in the history
of English all inflection heads in this direction.) Yet the RM network, unlike
the rule theory, offers us no insight. The network is equally able to learn a
set of scattered, nonlocal, phonetically unrelated subregularities: for
example, "suffix t if the word begins with b; prefix ik if the word ends in a
vowel; change all s's to r before ta"; etc. The RM model treats the regular
class as a kind of fortuitously overpopulated subregularity; indeed, as three
such classes, since the d-t-@o[i-d] alternation is treated on a par with the
choice between strong subclasses. The extreme and categorical uniformity of
the regular system disappears from sight, and with it the hope of identifying
such uniformity as a benchmark of linguistic generalization.
We have argued that the regular and strong systems have very different
properties: the regular system obeys a categorical rule that is stated in a
form that can apply to any word and that is adjusted only by very general
phonological regularities; whereas the strong system consists of a set of
subclasses held together by phonologically-unpredictable hypersimilarities
which are neither necessary nor sufficient criteria for membership in the
classes.
Why are they so different? We think the answer comes from the common-sense
characterization of the psychological difference between regular and strong
verbs. The past tense forms of strong verbs must be memorized; the past tense
forms of regular verbs can be generated by rule. Thus the irregular forms are
roughly where grammar leaves off and memory begins. Whatever affects human
memory in general will shape the properties of the strong class, but not the
regular class, by a kind of Darwinian selection process, because only the
easily-memorized strong forms will survive. The 10 most frequent verbs of
English are strong, and it has long been noted that as the frequency of a
strong form declines historically, the verb becomes more likely to regularize.
The standard explanation is that you can only learn a strong past by hearing it
and only if you hear it often enough are you likely to remember it. However, it
is important to note that the bulk of the strong verbs are of no more than
middling frequency and some of them are actually rare, raising the question of
how they managed to endure. The hypersimilarities and graded membership
structure of the strong class might provide an answer. Rosch and Mervis (1975)
note that conceptual categories, such as vegetables or tools, tend to consist
of members with family resemblances to one another along a set of dimensions
and graded membership determined by similarity to a prototype. They also showed
in two experiments that it is easier for subjects to memorize the members of an
artificial category if those members display a family resemblance structure
than if they are grouped into categories arbitrarily. Since strong verbs, like
Rosch and Mervis's artificial exemplars, must be learned one by one, it is
reasonable to expect that the ones that survive, particularly in the middle and
low frequencies, will be those displaying a family resemblance structure. In
other words, the reason that strong verbs are either frequent or members of
families is that strong verbs are memorized and frequency and family
resemblance assist memorization.
The regular system must answer to an entirely different set of requirements:
the rule must allow the user to compute the past tense form of any regular verb
and so must be generally applicable, predictable in its output, and so on.
While it is possible that connectionist models of category formation (e.g.
McClelland and Rumelhart, 1985) might offer insights into why family
resemblance fosters category formation, it is the difference between fuzzy
families of memorized exemplars and formal rules that the models leave
unexplained.[See Armstrong, Gleitman, and Gleitman (1983) for an analogous
argument applied to conceptual categories.] Rumelhart and McClelland's failure
to distinguish between mnemonics and productive morphology leads to the
lowest-common-denominator 'uniformity' of accomplishing all change through
arbitrary Wickelfeature replacement, and thus vitiates the use of psychological
principles to explain linguistic regularities.
The bottom-line and most easily grasped claim of the RM model is that it
succeeds at its assigned task: producing the correct past tense form.
Rumelhart and McClelland are admirably open with their test data, so we can
evaluate the model's achievement quite directly.
Rumelhart and McClelland submitted 72 new regular verbs to the trained model
and submitted each of the resulting activated Wickelfeature vectors to the
unconstrained whole-string binding network to obtain the analog of
freely-generated responses. The model does not really 'decide' on a unique past
tense form and stick with it thereafter; several candidates get strength values
assigned to them, and Rumelhart and McClelland interpret those strength values
as being related roughly monotonically to the likelihood the model would output
those candidates. Since there is noise in some of the processes that
contribute to strength values, they chose a threshold value (.2 on the 0-1
scale) and if a word surpassed that criterion, it was construed as being one of
the model's guesses for the past tense form for a given stem. By this
criterion, 24 of the 72 probe stems resulted in a strong tendency to incorrect
responses -- 33% of the sample. Of these, 6 (jump, pump, soak, warm, trail,
glare) had no response at threshold. Though it is hard to reconstruct the
reasons for this, two facts are worth noting. First, these verbs have no
special resemblance to the apparently quasi-productive strong verb types -- the
factor that affects human responses. Second, the no-response verbs tend to
cluster in phonetic similarity space either with one another (jump, pump) or
with other verbs that the model erred on, discussed below (soak/smoke;
trail/mail; glare/tour). This suggests that the reason for model's muteness is
that it failed to learn the relevant transformations; i.e. to generalize
appropriately about the regular past. Apparently the steps taken to prevent
the model from bogging down in insufficiently general case-by-case learning,
such as blurring the Wickelfeatures and using noisy probabilistic output units
during learning, did not work well enough.
But it also reveals one of the inherent deficits of the model we have alluded
to: there is no such thing as a variable standing for any stem, regardless of
its phonetic composition, and hence no way for the model to attain the
knowledge that you can add /d/ to a "stem" to get its past. Rather, all the
knowledge of the model consists of responses trained to the concrete features
in the training set. If the new verbs happen not to share enough of these
features with the words in the training set, or happen to possess features to
which competing and mutually incompatible outputs had been associated, the
model can fail to output any response significantly stronger than the
background noise. The regular rule in symbolic accounts, in contrast, doesn't
care what's in the word or how often its contents were submitted previously for
training; the concept of a stem itself is sufficient. We return to this point
when discussing some of the limitations of connectionist architecture in
general.
Of the remaining 18 verbs for which the model did not output a single correct
choice, 4 yielded grossly bizarre candidates:
In sum, for 14 of the 18 stems yielding incorrect forms, the forms were quite
removed from the confusions we might expect people to make. Taking these with
the 6 no-shows, we have 20 out of the 72 test stems resulting in seriously
wrong forms, a 28% failure rate. This is the state of the model after it has
been trained 190-200 times on each item in a vocabulary of 336 regular verbs.
What we have here is not a model of the mature system.
We have found that many psychologists and computer scientists feel
uncomfortable about evidence of the sort we have discussed so far, concerning
the ability of a model to attain the complex organization of a linguistic
system in its mature state, and attempt to dismiss it for a variety of reasons.
We consider the evidence crucial and decisive, and in this section we reproduce
some of the objections we have heard and show why they are groundless.
"Those logical/philosophical arguments are interesting, but it's really the
data that matter (let's get on to the stuff about children)". All of the
evidence we have discussed is empirical. It is entirely conceivable that people
could go around saying What'z the answer? or He high-stuck the goalie or The
canary pept or I don't know how she bore him or Yesterday we chat for an hour,
or that upon hearing such sentences, could perceive them as sounding perfectly
normal. In every case it is an empirical datum about the human brain that they
don't. Any theory of the psychology of language must account for such data.
"Of course, rule-governed behaviors exist, but they are the products of
schooling or explicit instruction, and are deployed by people only when in a
conscious, reflective, problem-solving mode of thought that is distinct from
the intuitive processes that PDP models account for (see, for example,
Smolensky, in press). This is completely wrong. The rule adding /d/ to a stem
to form the past is not generally taught in school (it doesn't have to be!)
except possibly as a rule of spelling, which if anything obscures its nature:
for one thing, the plural morpheme, which is virtually identical to the past
morpheme in its phonological behavior, is spelled differently ("s" versus
"ed"). The more abstract principles we have discussed, such as distinctions
between morphology and phonology, the role of roots in morphology, preservation
of stem and affix identity, phonological processes that are oblivious to
morphological origin, disjoint conditions for the application of morphological
and phonological changes, distinct past tenses for homophones, interactions
between the strong and regular systems, and so on, are consciously inaccessible
and not to be found in descriptive grammars or language curricula. Many have
only recently been adequately characterized; traditional prescriptive grammars
tend to be oblivious to them or to treat them in a ham-fisted manner. For
example, H. L. Mencken (1936) noted that people started to use the forms
broadcasted and joy-rided in the 1920's. (Without consciously knowing it, they
were adhering to the principle that irregularity is a property of verb roots,
hence verbs formed from nouns are regular). The prescriptive guardians of the
language made a fruitless attempt to instruct people explicitly to use
broadcast and joy-rode instead, based on its similarity to cast-cast] and
ride-rode.
In fact, the objection gets the facts exactly backwards. One of the phenomena
that the RM model is good at handling is unsystematic analogy formation based
on its input history with subregular forms (as opposed to the automatic
application of the regular rule where linguistically mandated). The irregular
system, we have noted, is closely tied to memory as well as to language, so it
turns out that people often have metalinguistic awareness of some of its
patterns, especially since competing regular and irregular past tense forms
carry different degrees of prestige and other socioeconomic connotations. Thus
some of the fine points of use of the irregulars depend on exposure to standard
dialects, on normative instruction, and on conscious reflection. Thus people,
when in a reflective, conscious, problem-solving mode, will seem to act more
like the RM model: the overapplication of subregularities that the model is
prone to can be seen in modes of language use that bear all the hallmarks of
self-conscious speech, such as jocularity (e.g. spaghettus, I got schrod at
Legal Seafood, The bear shat in the woods), explicit instruction and
transmission from individual to individual within a community of specialists
(e.g. VAXen as the plural of VAX), pseudoerudition (rhinoceri, axia for
axioms), and hypercorrection such as the anti-broadcasted campaign documented
by Mencken (similarly, we found that some of our informants offered Hurst
no-hitted the Blue Jays as their first guess as to the relevant past form but
withdrew it in favor of no-hit which they "conceded" was "more proper".)
"Sure, we academics speak in complex ways, but if you were to go down to [name
of nearest working-class neighborhood] you'd find that people talk very
differently." If anything is universal about language, it is probably people's
tendency to denigrate the dialects of other ethnic or socioeconomic groups.
One would hope that this prejudice is not taken seriously as a scientific
argument; it has no basis in fact. The set of verbs that are irregular varies
according to regional and socioeconomic dialect (see Mencken, 1936, for
extensive lists), as does the character of the subregular patterns, but the
principles organizing the system as a whole show no variation across classes or
groups.
"Grammars may characterize some aspects of the ideal behavior of adults, but
connectionist models are more consistent with the sloppiness found in
children's speech and adult's speech errors, which are more 'psychological'
phenomena." Putting aside until the next section the question of whether
connectionist models really do provide a superior account of adult's or
children's errors, it is important to recognize a crucial methodological
asymmetry that this kind of objection fails to acknowledge. The ability to
account for patterns of error is a useful criterion for evaluating competing
theories each of which can account for successful performance equally well. But
a theory that can only account for errorful or immature performance, with no
account of why the errors are errors or how children mature into adults, is of
limited value (Pinker, 1979, 1984; Wexler & Culicover, 1980; Gleitman & Wanner,
1982). (Imagine a "model" of the internal combustion engine that could mimic
its ability to fail to start on cold mornings -- by doing nothing -- but could
not mimic its ability to run under any circumstances).
Thus it won't do to suggest, as Rumelhart and McClelland do, that "people -- or
at least children, even in early grade-school years -- are not perfect
rule-applying machines either. ... Thus we see little reason to believe that
our model's 'deficiencies' are significantly greater than those of native
speakers of comparable experience" (PDPII p. 265- 266). Unlike the RM model, no
adult speaker is utterly stumped in an unpressured naturalistic situation when
he or she needs to produce the past tense form of soak or glare, none
vacillates between kid and kidded, none produces membled for mailed or toureder
for toured. Although children equivocate in experimental tasks eliciting
inflected nonce forms, these tasks are notorious for the degree to which they
underestimate competence with the relevant phenomena (Pinker, Lebeaux, and
Frost, 1987; Maratsos, 1987; Levy, 1983) -- not to mention the fact that
children do not remain children forever. The crucial point is that adults can
speak without error and can realize that their errors are errors (by which we
mean, needless to say, from the standpoint of the untaxed operation of their
own system, not of a normative standard dialect). And children's learning
culminates in adult knowledge. These are empirical facts that any theory must
account for.
Rumelhart and McClelland stress that their model's ability to explain the
developmental sequence of children's mastery of the past tense is the key point
in favor of their model over traditional accounts. In particular, these facts
are the "fine structure of the phenomena of language use and language
acquisition" that their model is said to provide an exact account of, as
opposed the traditional explanations which "leave out a great deal of detail",
describing the phenomena only "approximately".
One immediate problem in assessing this claim is that there is no equally
explicit model incorporating rules against which we can compare the RM model.
Linguistic theories make no commitment as to how rules increase or decrease in
relative strength during acquisition; this would have to be supplied by a
learning mechanism that meshed with the assumptions about the representation of
the rules. And theories discussed in the traditional literature of
developmental psycholinguistics are far too vague and informal to yield the
kinds of predictions that the RM model makes. There do exist explicit models of
the acquisition of inflection, such as that outlined by Pinker (1984), but they
tend to be complementary in scope to the RM model; the Pinker model, for
example, attempts to account for how the child realizes that one word is the
past tense version of another, and which of two competing past tense candidates
is to be retained, which in the RM model is handled by the "teacher" or not at
all, and relegates to a black box the process of abstracting the morphological
and phonological changes relating past forms and stems, which is what the RM
model is designed to learn.
The precision of the RM theory is surely a point in its favor, but it is still
difficult to evaluate, for it is not obvious what features of the model give it
its empirical successes. More important, it is not clear whether such features
are consequences of the model's PDP architecture or simply attributes of
fleshed-out processes that would function in the same way in any
equally-explicit model of the acquisition process. In most cases Rumelhart and
McClelland do not apportion credit or blame for the model's behavior to
specific aspects of its operation; the model's output is compared against the
data rather globally. In other cases the intelligence of the model is so
distributed and its output mechanisms are so interactive that it is difficult
for anyone to know what aspect of the model makes it successful. And in
general, Rumelhart and McClelland do not present critical tests between
competing hypotheses embodying minimally different assumptions, only
descriptions of goodness of fit between their model and the data. In this
section, we unpack the assumptions of the model, and show which ones are doing
the work in accounting for the developmental facts -- and whether the
developmental facts are accounted for to begin with.
Among the RM model's many properties, there are two that are crucial to its
accounts of developmental phenomena. First, it has a learning mechanism that
makes it type-frequency sensitive: the more verbs it encounters that embody a
given type of morphophonological change, the stronger are its graded
representations of that morphophonological change, and the greater is the
tendency of the model to generalize that change to new input verbs.
Furthermore, the different past tense versions of a word that would result from
applying various regularities to it are computed in parallel and there is a
competition among them for expression, whose outcome is determined mainly by
the strength of the regularity and the goodness of the match between the
regularity and the input. (In fact the outcome can also be a blend of competing
responses, but the issue of response blending is complex enough for us to defer
discussing it to a later section.)
It is crucial to realize that neither frequency-sensitivity nor competition is
unique to PDP models. Internal representations that have graded strength values
associated with them are probably as old as theories of learning in psychology;
in particular, it is commonplace to have greater strength values assigned to
representations that are more frequently exemplified in the input during
learning, so that strength of a representation basically corresponds to degree
of confidence in the hypothesis represented. Competition among candidate
operations that partially match the input is also a ubiquitous assumption among
symbol-processing models in linguistics and cognitive psychology. Spreading-
activation models and production systems, which are prototypical symbol-
processing models of cognition, are the clearest examples (see, e.g. Newell and
Simon, 1972; Anderson, 1976, 1983; MacWhinney & Sokolov, 1987).
To show how these assumptions are part and parcel of standard rule-processing
models, we will outline a simplified module for certain aspects of past tense
acquisition, which searches for the correct past tense rule or rules, keeping
several candidates as possibilities before it is done. We do not mean to
propose it as a serious theory, but only as a demonstration that many of the
empirical successes of the RM model are the result of assumptions about
frequency-sensitivity and competition among output candidates that are
independent of parallel distributed processing in networks of simple units.
An Simple Illustrative Module of a Rule-Based Inflection Acquisition Theory,
Incorporating Assumptions about Frequency-Sensitivity and Competition.
Acquiring inflectional systems poses a number of tricky induction problems,
discussed at length in Pinker (1984). When a child hears an inflected verb in a
single context, it is utterly ambiguous what morphological category the
inflection is signaling (the gender, number, person, or some combination of
those agreement features for the subject? for the object? is it tense? aspect?
modality? some combination of these?). Pinker (1984) suggested that the child
solves this problem by "sampling" from the space of possible hypotheses defined
by combinations of an innate finite set of elements, maintaining these
hypotheses in the provisional grammar, and testing them against future uses of
that inflection, expunging a hypothesis if it is counterexemplified by a future
word. Eventually, all incorrect hypotheses about the category features encoded
by that affix will be pruned, any correct one will be hypothesized, and only
correct ones will survive.
The surviving features define the dimensions of a word-specific paradigm
structure into whose cells the different inflected forms of a given verb are
placed (for example, singular-plural or present-past-future). The system then
seeks to form a productive general paradigm -- that is, a set of rules for
related inflections -- by examining the patterns exhibited across the paradigms
for the individual words. This poses a new induction problem because of the
large number of possible generalizations consistent with the data, and it
cannot be solved by examining a single word-specific paradigm or even a set of
paradigms. For example, in examining sleep/slept, should one conclude that the
regular rule of English laxes and lowers the vowel and adds a t? If so, does
it do so for all stems or only for those ending in a stop, or only those whose
stem vowel is i? Or is this simply an isolated irregular form, to be recorded
individually with no contribution to the regular rule system? There is no way
to solve the problem other than by trying out various hypotheses and seeing
which ones survive when tested against the ever-growing vocabulary. Note that
this induction problem is inherent to the task and cannot be escaped from using
connectionist mechanisms or any other mechanisms; the RM model attempts to
solve the problem in one way, by trying out a large number of hypotheses of a
certain type in parallel.
A symbolic model would solve the problem using a mechanism that can formulate,
provisionally maintain, test, and selectively expunge hypotheses about rules of
various degrees of generality. It is this hypothesis-formation mechanism that
the simplified module embodies. The module is based on five assumptions:
b. Change: e --> O
c. Suffix: t
d. Change: i --> a@kern[2 points]e
e. Suffix: @o[0/]
Change: i --> i
b: Suffix: t
Class: C #
[-voiced]
[-continuant]
[-sonorant]
Now consider the results of a third regular input, pace/paced. First, a fairly
word-specific rule (REGRULE2a) would be coined; then it would be collapsed with
the existing rule (REGRULE) with which it shares a change operation, yielding a
rule (REGRULE2b) with strength 3.
b. Suffix: t
Class: C #
[-voiced]
b. Change: i --> a
Class: C_@o[nj]
This candidate-hypothesization module can only be part of the mechanism that
acquires the past tense system. Other mechanisms or principles, such as those
discussed in Pinker (1984), must evaluate the rule candidates and eliminate the
incorrect ones, such as those that simply characterize lists of similar strong
forms, and must retain any genuine rules in a general paradigm. As noted in
Section (), regular rules are distinguished by applying in the default or
"elsewhere" case. One can imagine the following learning strategy, which can be
called the "Nonexceptional Exceptions to Exceptions Strategy", that would
discover regular rules using this criterion. Comparing the acquired stem-past
pairs whose first member contains eep, the child would notice that there are
many exceptions to the tentative eep --> ept rule candidate and that most of
the exceptions to it themselves follow the pattern holding of verbs whose
present forms do not contain eep (seeped, peeped, steeped, beeped, etc.).
Furthermore, exceptions to other subregularities such as bend/bent - lend/lent
will also largely obey the pattern holding of verbs lacking end (end/ended,
fend/fended, mend/mended, etc.). Thus, within the child's lexicon one
regularity, the addition of /d/, knows no phonological bounds, and can
potentially apply to any base form, whereas this is not true of any other
regularity. In this way, some regularities can be enshrined as permanent
productive rules whereas others can be discarded or treated differently.
Other constraints contributed by other principles and components of grammar
would also influence the extraction and sorting of putative rules. For example,
the syntax and lexicon would segregate derived forms out of these calculations,
and the phonology would subtract out modifications abstracted from consonant
clusters of simple words and perhaps from sets of morphologically unrelated
rules. Finally, the general regular paradigm would be used when needed to fill
out empty cells of word-specific paradigms with a unique entry, while following
the constraint that irregular forms in memory block the product of the regular
rule, and only a single form can be generated for a specific stem when more
than one productive rule applies to it (multiple entries can exist only when
the irregular form is too weakly represented, or when both multiple forms are
witnessed in the input; see Pinker, 1984).
Though both our candidate-hypothesization module and the RM model share certain
properties, let us be clear about the differences. The RM model is designed to
account for the entire process that maps stems to past tense forms, with no
interpretable subcomponents, and few constraints on the regularities that can
be recorded. The candidate-hypothesization module, on the other hand, is meant
to be a part of a larger system, and its outputs, namely rule candidates, are
symbolic structures that can be examined, modified, or filtered out by other
components of grammar. For example, the phonological acquisition mechanism can
note the similarities between t/d/@o[i-]d and s/z/@o[i-]z and pull out the
common phonological regularities, which would be impossible if those
allomorphic regularities were distributed across a set of connection weights
onto which countless other regularities were superimposed.
It is also important to note that, as we have mentioned, the
candidate-hypothesization module is motivated by a requirement of the
learnability task facing the child. Specifically, the child at birth does not
know whether English has a regular rule, or if it does, what it is or whether
it has one or several. He or she must examine the input evidence, consisting
of pairs of present and past forms acquired individually, to decide. But the
evidence is locally ambiguous in that the nonproductive exceptions to the
regular rule are not a random set but display some regularities for historical
reasons (such as multiple borrowings from other languages or dialects, or rules
that have ceased to be productive) and psychological reasons (easily-memorized
forms fall into family resemblance structures). So the child must distinguish
real from apparent regularities. Furthermore, there is the intermediate case
presented by languages that have several productive rules applying to different
classes of stems. The "learnability problem" for the child is to distinguish
these cases. Before succeeding, the child must entertain a number of candidates
for the regular rule or rules, because it is only by examining large sets of
present-past pairs that the spurious regularities can be ruled out and the
partially-productive ones assigned to their proper domains; small samples are
always ambiguous in this regard. Thus a child who has not yet solved the
problem of distinguishing general productive rules from restricted productive
rules from accidental patterns will have a number of candidate regularities
still open as hypotheses. At this stage there will be competing options for the
past tense form of a given verb. The child who has not yet figured out the
distinction between regular, subregular, and idiosyncratic cases will display
behavior that is similar to a system that is incapable of making the
distinction -- the RM model.
In sum, any adequate rule-based theory will have to contain a module that
extracts multiple regularities at several levels of generality, assign them
strengths related to their frequency of exemplification by input verbs, and let
them compete in generating a past tense form for a given verb. In addition,
such a model can attain the adult state by feeding its candidates into
paradigm-organization processes, which, following linguistic constraints,
distinguish real generalizations from spurious ones. With this alternative
model in mind, we can now examine which aspects of the developmental data are
attributable to specific features of the RM model's parallel distributed
processing architecture -- specifically, to its collapsing of linguistic
distinctions -- and those which are attributable to its assumptions of graded
strength, type-frequency sensitivity, and competition which it shares with
symbolic alternatives.
A standard account of this sequence is that in the first stage, with no
knowledge of the distinction between present and past forms, and no knowledge
of what the regularities are in the adult language that relate them, the child
is simply memorizing present and past tense forms directly from the input. He
or she correctly uses irregular forms because the overregularized forms do not
appear in the input and there is no productive rule yet. Regular past tenses
are acquired in the same way, with no analysis of them into a stem plus an
inflection. Using mechanisms such as those sketched in the preceding section,
the child builds a productive rule and can apply it to any stem, including
stems of irregular verbs. Because the child will have had the opportunity to
memorize irregular pasts before relating stems to their corresponding pasts and
before the evidence for the regular relationship between the two has
accumulated across inputs, correct usage can in many cases precede
overregularization. The adult state results from a realization, which may occur
at different times for different verbs, that overregularized and irregular
forms are both past tense versions of a given stem, and by the application of a
Uniqueness principle that, roughly, allows the cells of an inflectional
paradigm for a given verb to be filled by no more and no less than one entry,
which is the entry witnessed in the input if there are competing nonwitnessed
rule-generated forms and witnessed irregulars (see Pinker, 1984).
The RM model also has the ability to produce an arbitrary past tense form for a
given present when they have been exemplified in the input, and to generate
regular past tense forms for the same verbs by adding -ed. Of course, it does
so without distinct mechanisms of rote and rule. In early stages, the links
between the Wickelfeatures of a base irregular form and the Wickelfeatures of
its past form are given higher weights. However, as a diverse set of regular
forms begin to stream in, links are strengthened between a large set of input
Wickelfeatures and the output Wickelfeatures containing features of the regular
past morpheme, enough to make the regularized form a stronger output than the
irregular form. During the overregularization stage, "the past tenses of
similar verbs they are learning show such a consistent pattern that the
generalization from these similar verbs outweighs the relatively small amount
of learning that has occurred on the irregular verb in question" (PDPII, p.
268). The irregular form eventually returns as the strongest output because
repeated presentations of it cause the network to tune the connection weights
so that the Wickelfeatures that are specific to the irregular stem form (and to
similar irregular forms manifesting the same kind of stem-past variation) are
linked more and more strongly to the Wickelfeatures specific to their past
forms, and develop strong negative weights to the Wickelfeatures corresponding
to the regular morpheme. That is, the prevalence of a general pattern across a
large set of verbs trades off against the repeated presentation of a single
specific pattern of a single verb presented many times (with subregularities
constituting an intermediate case). This gives the model the ability to be
either conservative (correct for an irregular verb) or productive
(overregularizing an irregular verb) for a given stem, depending on the mixture
of inputs it has received up to a given point.
Since the model's tendency to generalize lies on a continuum, any sequence of
stages of correct irregulars or overregularized irregulars is possible in
principle, depending on the model's input history. How, then, is the specific
shift shown by children, from correct irregular forms to a combination of
overregularized and correct forms, mimicked by the model? Rumelhart and
McClelland divide the training sequence presented to the model into two stages.
In the first, they presented 10 high-frequency verbs to the model, 2 of them
regular, 10 times each. In the second, they added 410 verbs to this sample, 334
of them regular, and presented the sample of 420 verbs 190 times. The beginning
of the downward arm of the U-shaped plot of percent correct versus
time, representing a worsening of performance for the irregular verbs, occurs
exactly at the boundary between the first set of inputs and the second. The
sudden influx of regular forms causes the links capturing the regular pattern
to increase in strength; prior to this influx, the regular pattern was
exemplified by only two input forms, not many more than those exemplifying any
of the idiosyncratic or subregular patterns. The shift from the first to the
second stage of the model's behavior, then, is a direct consequence of a shift
in the input mixture from a heterogeneous collection of patterns to a
collection in which the regular pattern occurs in the majority.
It is important to realize the theoretical claim inherent in this
demonstration. The model's shift from correct to overregularized forms does not
emerge from any endogenous process; it is driven directly by shifts in the
environment. Given a different environment (say, one in which heterogeneous
irregular forms suddenly start to outnumber regular forms), it appears that the
model could just as easily go in the opposite direction, regularizing in its
first stage and then becoming accurate with the irregular forms. In fact, since
the model always has the potential to be conservative or rule-governed, and
continuously tunes itself to the input, it appears that just about any shape of
curve at all is possible, given the right shifts in the mixture of regular and
irregular forms in the input.
Thus if the model is to serve as a theory of children's language acquisition,
Rumelhart and McClelland must attribute children's transition between the first
and second stage to a prior transition of the mixture of regular and irregular
inputs from the external environment. They conjecture that such a transition
might occur because irregular verbs tend to be high in frequency. "Our
conception of the nature of [the child's] experience is simply that the child
learns first about the present and past tenses of the highest frequency verbs;
later on, learning occurs for a much larger ensemble of verbs, including a much
larger proportion of regular forms" (p. 241). They concede that there is no
abrupt shift in the input to the child, but suggest that children's acquisition
of the present tense forms of verbs serves as a kind of filter for the past
tense learning mechanism, and that this acquisition of base forms undergoes an
explosive growth at a certain stage of development. Because the newly-acquired
verbs are numerous and presumably lower in frequency than the small set of
early-acquired verbs, it will include a much higher proportion of regular
verbs. Thus the shift in the proportion of regular verbs in the input to the
model comes about as a consequence of a shift from high frequency to medium
frequency verbs; Rumelhart and McClelland do not have to adjust the leanness or
richness of the input mixture by hand.
The shift in the model's input thus is not entirely ad hoc, but is it
realistic? The use of frequency counts of verbs in written samples in order to
model children's vocabulary development is, of course, tenuous.
The results, shown in Table 1 and Figure 2, are revealing. The percentage of
the children's verbs that are regular is remarkably stable across children and
across stages, never veering very far from 50%. (This is also true in parental
speech itself: Slobin, 1971, showed that the percentage of regular verbs in
Eve's parents speech during the period in which she was overregularizing was
43%). In particular, there is no hint of a consistent increase in the
proportion of regular verbs prior to or in the stage at which regularizations
first occur. Note also that an explosive growth in vocabulary does not
invariably precede the onset of regularization. This stands in stark contrast
to the assumed input to the RM model, where the onset of overregularization
occurs subsequent to a sudden shift in the proportion of regular forms in the
input from 20% to 80%. Neither the extreme rarity of regular forms during the
conservative stage, nor the extreme prevalence of regular forms during the
overproductive stage, nor the sudden transition from one input mixture to
another, can be seen in human children. The explanation for their
developmental sequence must lie elsewhere.
We expect that this phenomenon is quite general. The plural in English, for
example, is overwhelmingly regular even among high-frequency nouns(We are
grateful to Maryellen McDonald for this point.): only 4 out of the 25 most
frequent concrete count nouns in the Francis and Kucera (1982) corpus are
irregular. Since there are so few irregular plurals, children are never in a
stage in which irregulars strongly outnumber regulars in the input or in their
vocabulary of noun stems. Nonetheless, the U-shaped developmental
sequence can be observed in the development of plural inflection in the speech
of the Brown children: for example, Adam said feet nine times in the samples
starting at age 2;4 before he used foots for the first time at age 3;9; Sarah
used feet 18 times starting at 2;9 before uttering foots at 5;1; Eve uttered
feet a number of times but never foots.
Examining token frequencies only underlines the unnaturally favorable
assumptions about the input used in the RM model's training run. Not only does
the transition from conservatism to overregularization correspond to shift from
a 20/80 to an 80/20 ratio of regulars to irregulars, but in the first,
conservative phase, high-frequency irregular pairs such as go/went and
make/made were only presented 10 times each, whereas in the overregularizing
phase the hundreds of regular verbs were presented 190 times each. In contrast,
irregular verbs are always much higher in token frequency in children's
environment. Slobin (1971) performed an exhaustive analysis of the verbs heard
by Eve in 49 hours of adults' speech during the phase in which she was
overregularizing and found that the ratio of irregular to regular tokens was
3:1. Similarly, in Brown's smaller samples, the ratios were 2.5:1 for Adam's
parents, 5:1 for Eve's parents, and 3.5:1 for Sarah's parents. One wonders
whether presenting the RM model with 10 high-frequency verbs, say, 190 times
each in the first phase could have burned in the 8 irregulars so strongly that
they would never be overregularized in Phase 2.
If children's transition from the first to the second phase is not driven by a
change in their environments or in their vocabularies, what causes it? One
possibility is that a core assumption of the RM model, that there is no
psychological reality to the distinction between rule-generated and memorized
forms, is mistaken. Children might have the capacity to memorize independent
present and past forms from the beginning, but a second mechanism that coins
and applies rules might not go into operation until some maturational change
put it into place, or until the number of verbs exemplifying a rule exceeded a
threshold. Naturally, this is not the only possible explanation. An alternative
is that the juxtaposition mechanism that relates each stem to its corresponding
past tense form has not yet succeeded in pairing up memorized stems and past
forms in the child's initial stage. No learning of the past tense regularities
has begun because there are no stem-past input pairs that can be fed into the
learning mechanism; individually acquired independent forms are the only
possibility.
Some of the evidence supports this alternative. Brown notes in the grammars
that children frequently used the present tense form in contexts that clearly
called for the past, and in one instance did the reverse. As the children
developed, past tense forms were used when called for more often, and evidence
for an understanding of the function of the past tense form and the tendency to
overregularize both increase. Kuczaj (1977) provides more precise evidence from
a cross-sectional study of 14 children. He concluded that once children begin
to regularize they rarely use a present tense form of an irregular verb in
contexts where a past is called for.
The general point is that in either case the RM model does not explain
children's developmental shift from conservatism to regularization. It attempts
to do so only by making assumptions about extreme shifts in the input to rule
learning that turn out to be false. Either rules and stored forms are distinct,
or some process other than extraction of morphophonological regularity explains
the developmental shift. The process of coming to recognize that two forms
constitute the present and past tense variants of the same verb, that is, the
juxtaposition process, seems to be the most likely candidate.
Little needs to be said about the shift from the second stage, in which
regularization and overregularization occurs, to the third (adult) stage, in
which application of the regular rule and storage of irregular pasts cooccur.
Though the model does overcome its tendency to overregularize previously
acquired irregular verbs, we have shown in a previous section that it never
properly attains the third stage. This stage is attained, we suggest, not by
incremental strength changes in a pattern-finding mechanism, but by a mechanism
that makes categorical decisions about whether a hypothesized rule candidate is
a genuine productive rule and about whether to apply it to a given verb.
On the psychological reality of the memorized/rule-generated distinction. In
discussing the developmental shift to regularization, we have shown that there
can be developmental consequences of the conclusion that was forced upon us by
the linguistic data, namely that rule-learning and memorization of individual
forms are separate mechanisms. (In particular, we pointed out that one might
mature before the other, or one requires prior learning -- juxtaposing stems
and past forms -- and the other does not). This illustrates a more general
point: the psychological reality of the memorized/rule-generated distinction
predicts the possibility of finding dissociations between the two processes,
whereas a theory such as Rumelhart and McClelland's that denies that reality
predicts that such dissociations should not be found. The developmental facts
are clearly on the side of there being such a distinction.
First of all, children's behavior with irregular past forms during the first,
pre-regularization phase bears all the signs of rote memorization, rather than
a tentatively overspecific mapping from a specific set of stem features to a
specific set of past features. Brown notes, for example, that Adam used
fell-down ten times in the Stage II sample without ever using fall or falling,
so his production of fell-down cannot be attributed to any sort of mapping at
all from stem to past. Moreover there is no hint in this phase of any
interaction or transfer of learning across phonetically similar individual
irregular forms: for example, in Sarah's speech, break/broke coexisted with
make/made and neither had any influence on take, which lacked a past form of
any sort in her speech over several stages. Similar patterns can be found in
the other children's speech.
A clear example of a dissociation between rote and rule over a span in which
they coexist comes from Kuczaj (1977), who showed that children's mastery of
irregular past tense forms was best predicted by their chronological age, but
their mastery of regular past tense forms was best predicted by their Mean
Length of Utterance. Brown (1973) showed that MLU correlates highly with a
variety of measures of grammatical sophistication in children acquiring
English. Kuczaj's logic was that irregular pasts are simply memorized, so the
sheer number of exposures, which increases as the child lives longer, is the
crucial factor, whereas regular pasts can be formed by the application of a
rule, which must be induced as part of the child's developing grammar, so
overall grammatical development is a better predictor. Thus the linguistic
distinction between lists of exceptions and rule-generated forms (see Section )
is paralleled by a developmental distinction between opportunities for
list-learning and sophistication of a rule system.
Another possible dissociation might be found in individual differences. A
number of investigators of child language have noted that some children are
conservative producers of memorized forms whereas others are far more willing
to generalize productively. For example, Cazden (1968) notes that "Adam was
more prone to overgeneralizations than Eve and Sarah" (p. 447), an observation
also made by Brown in his unpublished grammars. More specifically, Table 1
shows that Sarah began to regularize the past tense two stages later than the
other two children despite comparable verb vocabularies. Maratsos (1987)
documented many individual differences in the willingness of children to
overgeneralize the causative alternation. If such differences do not reflect
differences in the children's environments or vocabularies (they don't in the
case of the past tense), presumably they result from the generalizing mechanism
of some children being stronger or more developed than that of others, without
comparable differences in their ability to record forms directly from the
input. The RM model cannot easily account for any of these dissociations (other
than by attributing crucial aspects of the generalization phenomena to
mechanisms entirely outside their model), because memorized forms and
generalizations are handled by a single mechanism -- recall that the identity
map in the network must be learned by adjusting a large set of connection
weights, just like any of the stem alterations; it is not there at the outset,
and is not intrinsically easy to learn.
The question is not closed, but the point is that the different theories can in
principle be submitted to decisive empirical tests. It is such tests that
should be the basis for debate on the psychological issue at hand. Simply
demonstrating that there exist contrived environments in which a network model
can be made to be mimic some data, especially in the absence of comparisons to
alternative models, tells us nothing about the psychology of the child.
In support of this hypothesis, Bybee and Slobin found in an elicitation
experiment that for verbs ending in t or d, children were more likely to
produce a past tense form identical to the present than a regularized form,
whereas for verbs not ending in a t or d, they were more likely to produce a
regularized form than an unchanged form. In addition, Kuczaj (1978) found in a
judgment task that children were more likely to accept correct no-change forms
for nonchanging verbs than correct past tense forms for other irregular verbs
such as break or send, and less likely to accept overregularized versions of
no-change verbs than overregularized versions of other irregular verbs. Thus
not only do children learn that verbs ending in t/d are likely to be unchanged,
but this subregularity is easier for them to acquire than the kinds of changes
such as the vowel alternations found in other classes of irregular verbs.
Unlike the three-stage developmental sequence for regularization, children's
sensitivity to the no-change subregularity for verbs ending in t/d played no
role in the design of the RM model or of its simulation run. Nonetheless,
Rumelhart and McClelland point out that during the phase in which the model was
overregularizing, it produced stronger regularized past tense candidates for
verbs not ending in t/d than for verbs ending in t/d, and stronger unchanged
past candidates for verbs ending in t/d than for verbs not ending in t/d. This
was true not only across the board, but also within the class of regular verbs,
and within the classes of irregular verbs that do change in the past tense, for
which no-change responses are incorrect. Furthermore, when Rumelhart and
McClelland examined the total past tense response of the network (that is, the
set of Wickelfeatures activated in the response pool) for verbs in the
different irregular subclasses, they found that the no-change verbs resulted in
fewer incorrectly activated Wickelfeatures than the other classes of
irregulars. Thus both aspects of the acquisition of the no-change pattern fall
out of the model with no extra assumptions.
Why does the model display this behavior? Because the results of its learning
are distributed over hundreds of thousands of connection weights, it is hard to
tell, and Rumelhart and McClelland do not try to tease apart the various
possible causal factors. Misperception cannot be the explanation because the
model always received correct stem-past pairs. There are two other
possibilities. One is that connections from many Wickelfeatures to the
Wickelfeatures for word-final t, and the thresholds for those Wickelfeatures,
have been affected by the many regular stem-past pairs fed into to the model.
The response of the model is a blend of the operation of all the learned
subregularities, so there might be some transfer from regular learning in this
case. For example, the final Wickelphone in the correct past tense form of hit,
namely it#, shares many of its Wickelfeatures with those of the regular past
tense allomorphs such as @o[i-d#]. Let us call this effect between-class
transfer.
It is important to note that much of the between-class transfer effect may be a
consequence -- perhaps even an artifact -- of the Wickelfeature representation
and one of the measures defined over it, namely percentage of incorrect
Wickelfeatures activated in the output. Imagine that the model's learning
component actually treated no-change verbs and other kinds of verbs
identically, generating Wickelfeature sets of equal strength for cutted and
taked. Necessarily, taked must contain more incorrect Wickelfeatures than
cutted: most of the Wickelfeatures that one would regard as "incorrect" for
cutted, such as those that correspond to the Wickelphone t@o[i-d] and @o[i-d#],
happen to characterize the stem perfectly (StopVowelStop,
InterruptedFrontInterrupted, etc.), because cut and ted are featurally very
similar. On the other hand, the incorrect Wickelfeatures for taked (those
corresponding to Wickelphones Akt and kt#) will not characterize the correct
output form took. This effect is exaggerated further by the fact that there are
many more Wickelfeatures representing word boundaries than representing the
same phonemes string-internally, as Lachter and Bever (1987) point out (recall
that the Wickelfeature set was trimmed so as to exclude those whose two context
phonemes belonged to different phonological dimensions -- since the
word-boundary feature # has no phonological properties, such a criterion will
leave all Wickelfeatures of the form XY# intact). This difference is then
carried over to the current implementation of the response-generation
component, which puts response candidates at a disadvantage if they do not
account for activated Wickelfeatures. The entire effect (a consequence of the
fact that the model does not keep track of which features go in which
positions) can be viewed either as a bug or a feature. On the one hand, it is
one way of generating the (empirically correct) phenomenon that no-change
responses are more common when stems have the same endings as the affixes that
would be attached to them. On the other hand, it is part of a family of
phonological confusions that result from the Wickelphone/Wickelfeature
representations in general (see the section on Wickelphonology) and that hobble
the model's ability even to reproduce strings verbatim. If the stem-affix
feature confusions really are at the heart of the model's no-change responses,
then it should also have recurring problems, unrelated to learning, in
generating forms such as pitted or pocketed where the same Wickelfeatures occur
in the stem and affix or even twice in the same stem but they must be kept
distinct. Indeed, the model really does seems prone to make these undesirable
errors, such as generating a single CVC sequence when two are necessary, as in
the no-change responses for hug, smoke, and brown, or the converse, in
overmarking errors such as typeded and steppeded.
A third possible reason that no-change responses are easy for t/d-final stems
is that unlike other classes of irregulars in English, the no-change class has
a single kind of change (that is, no change at all), and all its members have a
phonological property in common: ending with a t or d. It is also the largest
irregular subclass. The model has been given relatively consistent evidence of
the contingency that verbs ending in t or d tend to have unchanged past tense
forms, and it has encoded that contingency, presumably in large part by
strengthening links between input Wickelfeatures representing word-final t/ds
and identical corresponding output Wickelfeatures. Basically, the model is
potentially sensitive to any statistical correlation between input and output
feature sets, and it has picked up that one. That is, the acquisition of the
simple contingency "end in t/d --> no change" presumably makes the model mimic
children. We can call this the within-class uniformity effect. As we have
mentioned, the simplified rule-hypothesization mechanism presented in a
previous section can acquire the same contingency (add a null affix for verbs
ending in a nonsonorant noncontinuant coronal), and strengthen it with every
no-change pair in the input. If, as we have argued, a rule-learning model
considered many rules exemplified by input pairs before being able to determine
which of them was the correct productive rule or rules for the language, this
rule would exist in the child's grammar and would compete with the regular d
rule and with other rules, just as competing outputs are computed in the RM
model.
Finally, there is a fourth mechanism that was mentioned in our discussion of
the strong verb system. Addition of the regular suffix d to a form ending in t
or d produces a phonologically-illicit consonant cluster: td or dd. For regular
verbs, the phonological rule of vowel insertion places an @o[i-] between the
two consonants. Interestingly, no irregular past ends in @o[-id], though some
add a t or d. Thus we find tell/told and leave/left, but we fail to find
bleed/bledded or get/gotted. A possible explanation is that a phonological
rule, degemination, removes an affix after it is added as an alternative means
of avoiding adjacent coronals in the strong class. The no-change verbs would
then just be a special case of this generalization, where the vowel doesn't
change either. Basically, the child would capitalize on a phonological rule
acquired elsewhere in the system, and might overgeneralize by failing to
restrict the degemination rule to the strong verbs.
Thus we have an overlapping set of explanations for the early acquisition and
overgeneralization of the no-change contingency. Bybee and Slobin cite
misperception, Rumelhart and McClelland cite between-class transfer and
within-class uniformity, and rule-based theories can cite within-class
uniformity or overgeneralized phonology. What is the evidence concerning the
reasons that children are so sensitive to this contingency?
Unfortunately, a number of confounds in English make the theories difficult to
distinguish. No-change verbs have a diagnostic phonological property in common
with one another. They also share a phonological property with regular
inflected past tense forms. Unfortunately, they are the same property: ending
with t/d. And it is the sharing of that phonological property that triggers
the putative phonological rule. So this massive confound prevents one from
clearly distinguishing the accounts using the English past tense rule; one
cannot say that the Rumelhart-McClelland model receives clear support from its
ability to mimic children in this case.
In principle, a number of more diagnostic tests are possible. First, one must
explain why the no-change class is confounded. The within-class uniformity
account, which is one of the factors behind the RM model's success, cannot do
this: if it were the key factor, we would surmise that English could just as
easily have contained a no-change class defined by any easily-characterized
within-class property (e.g. begin with j, end with s). Bybee and Slobin note
that across languages, it is very common for no-change stems to contain the
very ending that a rule would add. While ruling out within-class uniformity as
the only explanation, this still leaves misperception, transfer, and phonology
as possibilities, all of which foster learning of no-change forms for stems
resembling the relevant affix.
Second, one can look at cases where possessing the features of the regular
ending is not confounded with the characteristics of the no-change class. For
example, the nouns that do not change when pluralized in English such as sheep
and cod do not in general end in an s or z sound. If children nonetheless avoid
pluralizing nouns like ax or lens or sneeze, it would support one or more of
the accounts based on stem-affix similarity. Similarly, we might expect
children to be reluctant to add -ing to form verbs like ring or hamstring or
rethink.
If such effects were found, differences among verbs all of which resemble the
affix in question could discriminate the various accounts that exploit the
stem-affix similarity effect in different ways. Transfer, which is exploited by
the RM model, would, all other things being equal, lead to equally likely
no-change responses for all stems with a given degree of similarity to the
affix. Phonology would predict that transfer would occur only when the result
of adding an affix led to adjacent similar segments; thus it would predict more
no-change responses for the plural of ax than the progressive of sting, which
is phonologically acceptable without the intervention of any further rule.
Depending on how detailed the schema for past tense forms is thought to be, the
misperception hypothesis might predict more no-change responses when a form
resembled the recurrent patterns for regular pasts more closely. Thus there
should be more no-change responses for thrust and bend, which match the schemas
[... unvoiced consonant - t#] and [... voiced consonant -d#], than for bid or
put or beat or seat, which would not match any schema exemplified by existing
regular verbs since such verbs never contain a vowel-t sequence.
Returning now to a possible unconfounded test of the within-class uniformity
effect (implicated by Rumelhart and McClelland and by the rule-hypothesization
module), one could look for some phonological property in common among a set of
no-change stems that was independent of the phonological property of the
relevant affix and see whether children were more likely to yield both correct
and incorrect no-change responses when a stem had that property. As we have
pointed out, monosyllabicity is a property holding of the irregular verbs in
general, and of the no-change verbs in particular; presumably it is for this
reason that the RM model, it turns out, is particularly susceptible to leaving
regular verbs ending in t/d erroneously unchanged when they are monosyllabic.
As Rumelhart and McClelland point out, if children are less likely to leave
verbs such as decide or devote unchanged than verbs such as cede or raid it
would constitute a test of this aspect of their theory; this test is not
confounded by effects of across-class transfer.<What Rumelhart and McClelland
don't point out, however, is that monosyllabicity and irregularity are not
independent: in English, monosyllabicity is an important feature in defining
the domain of many morphological and syntactic rules (e.g.
nicer/*intelligenter, give/*donate the museum a painting; see Pinker, 1984),
presumably because in English a monosyllable constitutes the minimal or basic
word (McCarthy and Prince, 1987). As we have pointed out, all the irregular
verbs in English are monosyllables or are contain monosyllabic roots, (likewise
for nouns), a fact related in some way to irregularity being restricted to
roots and monosyllables being prototypical English roots. So if children know
that only roots can be irregular and that roots are monosyllables, (see Gordon,
1986, for evidence that children are sensitive to the interaction between
roothood and morphology, and Gropen & Pinker, 1986, for evidence that they are
sensitive to monosyllabicity), they may restrict their tendency to no-change
responses to monosyllables even if it is not the product of their detecting the
first-order correlation between monosyllabicity and unchanged pasts. Thus the
ideal test would have to be done for some other language, in which a no-change
class had a common phonological property independent of the definition of a
basic root in the language, and independent of the phonology of the regular
affix.>
A possible test of the misperception hypothesis is to look for other kinds of
evidence that children misperceive certain stems as falling into a
morphological category that is characteristically inflected. If so, then once
the regular rule is acquired it could be applied in reverse to such
misperceived forms, resulting in back-formations. For no-change verbs, this
would result in errors such as bea or blas for beat or blast. We know of no
reports of such errors among past tense forms but have observed in Lisa's
speech mik for mix, and in her noun system clo (thes), len (s), sentent (cf.
sentence), Santa Clau (s), upstair (s), downstair (s), bok (cf. box), trappy
(cf. trapeze), and brefek (cf. brefeks = `breakfast')].
Finally, the process by which Rumelhart and McClelland exploit stem-affix
similarity, namely transfer of the strength of the output features involved in
regular pairs to the no-change stems, can be tested by looking at examples of
blends of regular and subregular alternations that involve classes of verbs
other than the no-change class. One must determine whether children produce
such blends, and whether it is a good thing or a bad thing for the RM theory
that their model does so. We examine this issue in the next two sections.
In sum, the class of English verbs that do not change in the past tense
involves a massive confound of within-class phonological uniformity and
stem-affix similarity, leading to a complex nexus of predictions as to why
children are so sensitive to the properties of the class. The relations between
different models of past tense acquisition, predictions of which linguistic
variables should have an effect on languages and on children, and the classes
of verbs instantiating those variables, is many-to-many-to-many. Painstaking
testing of the individual predictions using unconfounded sets of items in a
variety of inflectional classes in English and other languages could tease the
effects apart. At present, however, a full range of possibilities are all
consistent with the data, ranging from the RM model explaining much of the
phenomenon to its being entirely dispensable. The model's ability to duplicate
children's performance, in and of itself, tells us relatively little.
Rumelhart and McClelland suggest, as in their discussion of no-change verbs,
that their model as it stands can reproduce the developmental phenomenon.
Since the Bybee and Slobin subjects range from 1 1/2 to 5 years, it is not
clear which stage of performance of the model should be compared with that of
the children, so Rumelhart and McClelland examined the output of the model at
several stages. These stages corresponded to the model's first five trials with
the set of medium-frequency, predominantly regular verbs, the next five trials,
the next ten trials, and an average over those first twenty trials (these
intervals constitute the period in which the tendency of the model to
overregularize was highest). The average strength of the overregularized forms
within each class was calculated for each of these 4 intervals.
The fit between model and data is good for the interval comprising the first
five trials, which Rumelhart and McClelland concentrate on. We calculate the
rank-order correlation between degree of overregularization by children and
model across classes as .77 in that first interval; however it then declines to
.31 and .14 in the next two intervals and is .31 for the average response over
all three intervals. The fact that the model is only successful at accounting
for Bybee and Slobin's data for one brief interval (less than 3% of the
training run) selected post hoc, whereas the data themselves are an average
over a span of development of 3 1/2 years, should be kept in mind in evaluating
the degree of empirical confirmation this study gives the model. Nonetheless,
the tendency of Class VIII verbs (fly/flew) to be most often regularized, and
for Class III verbs (feel/felt) to be among those least often regularized,
persists across all three intervals.
The model, of course is insensitive to any factor uniquely affecting the
juxtaposition of present and past forms because such juxtaposition is
accomplished by the "teacher" in the simulation run. Instead, its fidelity to
children's overregularization patterns at the very beginning of its own
overregularization stage must be attributed to some other factor. Rumelhart and
McClelland point to differences among the classes in the frequency with which
their characteristic vowel changes are exemplified by the verb corpus as a
whole. Class VIII verbs have vowel shifts that are relatively idiosyncratic to
the individual verbs in the class; the vowel shifts of other classes, on the
other hand, might be exemplified by many verbs in many classes. Furthermore,
Class III and IV verbs, which require the addition of a final t/d, can benefit
from the fact that the connections in the network that effect the addition of a
final t/d have been strengthened by the large number of regular verbs. The
model creates past tense forms piecemeal, by links between stem and past
Wickelfeatures, and with no record of the structure of the individual words
that contributed to the strengths of those links. Thus vowel shifts and
consonant shifts that have been exemplified by large numbers of verbs can be
applied to different parts of a base form even if the exact combination of such
shifts exemplified by that base form is not especially frequent.
How well could the simplified rule-finding module account for the data? Like
the RM model, it would record various subregular rules as candidates for a
regular past tense rule. Assuming it is sensitive to type frequency, the rule
candidates for more-frequently exemplified subregularities would be stronger.
And the stronger an applicable subregular rule candidate is, the less is the
tendency for its output to lose the competition with the overregularized form
contributed by the regular rule. Thus if Rumelhart and McClelland's explanation
of their model's fit to the data is correct, a rule-finding model sensitive to
type-frequency presumably would fit the data as well.
This conjecture is hard to test because Bybee and Slobin's data are tabulated
in some inconvenient ways. Each class is heterogeneous, containing verbs
governed by a variety of vowel-shifts and varying widely as to the number of
such shifts in the class and the number of verbs exemplifying them within the
class and across the classes. Furthermore, there are some quirks in the
classification. Go/went, the most irregular main verb in English, is assigned
to Class VIII, which by itself could contribute to the poor performance of
children and the RM model on that class. Conversely, have and make, which
involve no vowel shift at all, are included in Class IV, possibly contributing
to good average performance for the class by children and the model. (See the
Appendix for an alternative classification.)
It would be helpful to get an estimate as to how much of the RM model's
empirical success here might be due to the different frequencies of
exemplification of the vowel-shift subregularities within each class, because
such an effect carries over to a symbolic rule-finding alternative. To get such
an estimate, we considered each vowel shift (e.g. i --> a@kern[2 pointse]) as a
separate candidate rule, strengthened by a unit amount with each presentation
of a verb that exemplifies it in the Rumelhart-McClelland corpus of high- and
medium-frequency verbs. To allow have and make to benefit from the prevalence
of other verbs whose vowels do not change, we pooled the different vowel
no-change rules (a --> a; i --> i, etc.) into a single rule (the RM model gets
a similar benefit by using Wickelfeatures, which can code for the presence of
vowels, rather than Wickelphones) whose strength was determined by the number
of no-vowel-change verbs in Classes I and II.(In a sense, it would have been
more accurate to calculate the strength of the no-vowel-change rule on the
basis of all the verbs in the corpus, regular and irregular, rather than just
the irregular verbs. But with our overly simple strength function, this would
have greatly stacked the deck in favor of correctly predicting low
regularization rates for Class IV verbs and so we only counted the
exemplifications of no-vowel-change within the irregular verbs.) Then we
averaged the strengths of all the subregular rules included within each of
Bybee and Slobin's classes. These averages allow a prediction of the ordering
of overregularization probabilities for the different subclasses, based solely
on the number of irregular verbs in the corpus exemplifying the specific vowel
alternations among the verbs in the class. Though the method of prediction is
crude, it is just about as good at predicting the data as the output of the RM
model during the interval at which it did best and much better than the RM
model during the other intervals examined. Specifically, the rank-order
correlation between number of verbs in the corpus exemplifying the vowel shifts
in a class and the frequency of children's regularization of verbs in the class
is .71. The data, predictions of the RM model, and predictions from our simple
tabulations are summarized in Table 2.
The Question of Blended Responses. An interesting issue arises, however, when
we consider the possible effects of the addition of t/d in combination with the
effects of a common vowel shift. Recall that the RM model generates its output
piecemeal. Thus strong regularities pertaining to different parts of a word can
affect the word simultaneously, producing a chimerical output that need not
correspond in its entirety to previous frequent patterns. To take a simplified
example, after the model encounters pairs such as meet/met it has strong links
between i and @symbol[e]; after it encounters pairs such as play/played it has
strong links between final vowels and final vowel-d sequences; when presented
with flee it could then generate fled by combining the two regularities, even
if it never encountered an ee/ed alternation before. What is interesting is
that this blending phenomenon is the direct result of the RM model's lack of
word structure. In an alternative rule-finding account, there would be an i -->
@symbol[e] rule candidate, and there would be a d-affixation rule candidate,
but they would generate two distinct competing outputs, not a single blended
output. (It is possible in principle that some of the subregular strong verbs
such as told and sent involve the superposition of independent subregular
rules, especially in the history of the language, but in modern English one
cannot simply heap the effect of the regular rule on top of any subregular
alternation, as the RM model is prone to do). Thus it is not really fair for us
to claim that a rule-hypothesization model can account for good performance
with Class III and IV verbs because they involve frequently-exemplified vowel
alternations; such alternations only result in correct outputs if they are
blended with the addition of a t/d to the end of the word. In principle, this
could give us a critical test between the network model and a
rule-hypothesization model: unlike the ability to soak up frequent
alternations, the automatic superposition of any set of them into a single
output is (under the simplest assumptions) unique to the network model.
This leads to two questions: Is there independent evidence that children blend
subregularities? And does the RM model itself really blend subregularities? We
will defer answering the first question until the next section, where it arises
again. As for the second, it might seem that the question of whether response
blending occurs is perfectly straightforward, but in fact it is not. Say the
model's active output Wickelfeatures in response to flee include those for
medial @symbol[e] and those for word-final d. Is the overt response of the
model fled, a correct blend, or does it set up a competition between [flid] and
[fl@symbol[e]], choosing one of them, as the rule-hypothesization model would?
In principle, either outcome is possible, but we are never given the
opportunity to find out. Rumelhart and McClelland do not test their model
against the Bybee and Slobin data by letting it output its favored response.
Rather, they externally assemble alternatives corresponding to the
overregularized and correct forms, and assess the relative strengths of those
alternatives by observing the outcome of the competition in the
restricted-choice whole-string binding network (recall that the output of the
associative network, a set of activated Wickelfeatures, is the input to the
whole-string binding network). These strengths are determined by the number of
activated Wickelfeatures that each is consistent with. The result is that
correct alternatives that also happen to resemble blends of independent
subregularities are often the response chosen. But we do not know whether the
model, if left to its own devices, would produce a blend as its top-ranked
response.
Rumelhart and McClelland did not perform this test because it would have been
too computationally intensive given the available hardware: recall that the
only way to get the model to produce a complete response form on its own is by
giving it (roughly) all possible output strings (that is, all permutations of
segments) and having them compete against each other for active Wickelfeatures
in an enormous "unconstrained whole-string binding network". This is an
admitted kluge designed to give approximate predictions of the strengths of
responses that a more realistic output mechanism would construct. Rumelhart and
Mcclelland only ran the unconstrained whole-string binding network on a small
set of new low-frequency verbs in a transfer test involving no further
learning. It is hard to predict what will happen when this network operates
because it involves a "rich-get-richer" scheme in the competition among whole
strings, by which a string that can uniquely account for some Wickelfeatures
(including Wickelfeatures incorrectly turned on as part of the noisy output
function) gets disproportionate credit for the features that it and its
competitors account for equally well. This could lead to a snowballing effect
occasionally resulting in unpredictable winners. In fact, the whole-string
mechanism does yield blends such as slip/slept. But as mentioned, these blends
are also occasionally bizarre, such as mailed/membled or tour/toureder. And
this is why the question of overt blended outputs is foggy: it is unclear
whether tuning the whole-string binding network, or a more reasonable output
construction mechanism, so that the bizarre blends were eliminated, would also
eliminate the blends that perhaps turn out to be the correct outputs for Class
III and IV.[To complicate matters even further, even outright blends are
possible in principle within the rule-based model. For example, children might
have two subregular rules that are superimposed, as might have been appropriate
in an earlier stage of English. Or, there may be a response buffer that
receives the output of the competition process, and occasionally two candidates
of approximately equal strength slip out of the competition mechanism and are
blended in the response buffer. The result would be a blended speech error from
the point of view of the "design" of the rule-application module but possibly
an adventitious correct response. Though this account may not seem as natural
as the blending inherent in the network model, the notion of a serially ordered
response buffer distinct from a representation of target segments is part of
standard explanations for anticipatory and perseverative speech errors (e.g.,
Shattuck-Hufnagel, 1979).]
In sum, the relative tendencies of children to overregularize different classes
of vowel-change irregular verbs does not favor the RM model. The model for one
brief stage selected post hoc shows a moderately high correlation with data on
children's behavior in the strength it assigns to overregularized forms. Much
of this correlation is simply due to the frequencies with which the vowel
alternations in a given class have been exemplified by verbs in the corpus as a
whole. A rule-hypothesization model would also be sensitive to these
frequencies under even the simplest of assumptions. But the ability of the
network model to blend independent subregularities into a single response
follows naturally from its lack of word structure and could lead to tests
distinguishing the models. Unfortunately, whether the network model would
actually output blended responses in its best incarnation is unknown; whether
children output blended responses is a question we will turn to shortly.
What causes past + ed errors? There are two possibilities. One is that the
child sometimes fails to realize that the irregular past is the past tense form
of some base form. Thinking it is a base form itself, he or she feeds it into
the past tense formation mechanism and gets a doubly-marked error. This cannot
be the explanation for the model's behavior because correct present/past pairs
are always provided to it. The alternative is that the two different changes
are applied to the correct base form and the results are blended to yield the
double-marking. This is similar to one of the explanations for the model's
relatively infrequent overregularization of Class III and IV verbs discussed in
the previous section, and to one of the explanations for the model's tendency
to leave t/d-final stems unchanged discussed in the section before that. As in
the previous discussions, the lack of a realistic response production mechanism
makes it unclear whether the model would ever actually produce past + ed blends
when it is forced to utter a response on its own, or whether the phenomenon is
confined to such forms simply increasing in strength in the three-alternative
forced-choice experiment because only the past + ed form by definition contains
three sets of features all of them strengthened in the course of learning (its
idiosyncratic features, the features output by subregularities, and the
features of regularized forms). In Rumelhart and McClelland's transfer test on
new verbs, they chose a minimum strength value of .2 as a criterion for when a
form should be considered as being a likely overt response of the model. By
this criterion, the model should be seen as rarely outputting past + ed forms,
since such forms on the average never exceed a strength of .15. But let us
assume for now that such forms would be output, and that blending is their
source.
At first one might think that the model had an advantage in that it is
consistent with the fact that ated errors increase relative to the eated errors
in later stages, a phenomenon not obviously predicted by the misconstrued stem
account.
Once again, a confound in the materials provided by the English language
confounds Rumelhart and McClelland's conclusion that their model accounts
children's ated-type errors. Irregular past tense forms appear in the child's
input and hence can be misconstrued as base forms. They also are part of the
model's output for irregular base forms and hence can be blended with the
regularized response. Until forms which have one of these properties and not
the other are examined, the two accounts are at a stalemate.
Fortunately, the two properties can be unconfounded. Though the correct
irregular past will usually be the strongest non-regularized response of the
network, it is also sensitive to subregularities among vowel changes and hence
one might expect blends consisting of a frequent and consistent but incorrect
vowel change plus the regular ed ending. In fact the model does produce such
errors for regular verbs it has not been trained on, such as shape/shipped,
sip/sepped, slip/slept, and brown/brawned. Since the stems of these responses
are either not English verbs or have no semantic relationship to the correct
verb, such responses can never be the result of mistakenly feeding the wrong
base form of the verb into the past tense formation process. Thus if the
blending assumed in the Rumelhart and McClelland model is the correct
explanation for children's past + ed overregularizations, we should see
children making these and other kinds of blend errors. We might also expect
errors consisting of a blend of a correct irregular alteration of a verb plus a
frequent subregular alteration, such as send/soant (a blend of the d --> t and
@symbol[e --> o] subregularities) or think/that (a blend of the ing --> ang and
final consonant cluster --> t subregularities). (As mentioned, though, these
last errors are not ruled out in principle in all rule-based models, since
superposition may have had a role in the creation of several of the strong past
forms in the history of English, but indiscriminately adding the regular affix
onto strong pasts is ruled out by most theories of morphology).
Conversely, if the phenomenon is due to incorrect base input forms, we might
expect to see other inflection processes applied to the irregular past,
resulting in errors such as wenting and broking or wents and brokes. Since
mechanisms for progressive or present indicative inflection would never be
exposed to the idiosyncrasies or subregularities of irregular past tense forms
under Rumelhart and McClelland's assumptions, such errors could not result from
blending of outputs. Similarly, irregular pasts should appear in syntactic
contexts calling for bare stems if children misconstrue irregular pasts as
stems. In addition, we might expect to find cases where ed is added to
incorrect base forms that are plausible confusions of the correct base form but
implausible results of the mixing of subregularities.
Finally, we might expect that if children are put in a situation in which the
correct stem of a verb is provided for them, they would not generate past + ed
errors, since the source of such errors would be eliminated.
All five predictions work against the RM model and in favor of the explanation
based on incorrect inputs. Kuczaj (1977) reports that his transcripts contained
no examples where the child overapplied any subregularity, let alone a blend of
two of them or of a subregularity plus the regular ending. Bybee and Slobin do
not report any such errors in children's speech, though they do report them as
adult slips of the tongue in a time-pressured speaking task designed to elicit
errors. We examined the full set of transcripts of Adam, Eve, Sarah, and Lisa
for words ending in -ed. We found 13 examples of irregular past + ed or en
errors in past and passive constructions:
What about errors consisting of a subregular vowel alternation plus the
addition of ed? The only examples where an incorrect vowel other than that of
the irregular form appeared with ed are the following:
This conclusion is strengthened when we note that children do make errors such
as wents and wenting, which could only result from inflecting the wrong stem.
Kuczaj (1981) reports frequent use of wenting, ating, and thoughting in the
speech of his son, and we find in Eve's speech fells and wents and in Lisa's
speech blow awayn, lefting, hidding (= hiding), stoling, to took, to shot, and
might loss. These last three errors are examples of a common phenomenon
sometimes called `overtensing', which because it occurs mostly with irregulars
(Maratsos & Kuczaj, 1978), is evidence that irregulars are misconstrued as
stems (identical to infinitives in English). Some examples from Pinker (1984)
include Can you broke those, What are you did?, She gonna fell out, and I'm
going to sit on him and made him broken. Note that since many of these forms
occur at the same time as the ated errors, the relatively late appearance of
ated forms may reflect the point at which stem extraction (and mis-extraction)
in general is accomplished.
Finally, Kuczaj (1978) presents more direct evidence that past + ed errors are
due to irregular pasts misconstrued as stems. In one of his tasks, he had
children convert a future tense form (i.e. "will +
Yet another test of the source of apparently blended errors is possible when we
turn our attention to the regular system. If the child occasionally misanalyzes
a past form as a stem, he or she should do so for regular inflected past forms
and not just irregular ones, resulting in errors such as talkeded. The RM model
also produces such errors as blends, but for reasons that Rumelhart and
McClelland do not explain, all these errors involve regular verbs whose stems
end in p or k: carpeded, drippeded, mappeded, smokeded, snappeded, steppeded,
and typeded, but not browneded, warmeded, teareded or clingeded, nor, for that
matter, irregular stems of any sort: the model did not output
creepeded/crepted, weepeded/wepted, diggeded, or stickeded. We suggest the
following explanation for this aspect of the model's behavior. The phonemes p
and k share most of their features with t. Therefore on a Wickelfeature by
Wickelfeature basis, learning that t and d give you @o[i-d] in the output
transfers to p, b, g and k as well. So there will be a bias toward @o[i-d]
responses after all stops. Since there is also a strong bias toward simply
adding t, there will be a tendency to blend the `add t' and the 'add @o[i-d]'
responses. Irregular verbs, as we have noted, never end in @o[i-d], so to the
extent that the novel irregulars resemble trained ones (see Section ), the
features of the novel irregulars will inhibit the response of the @o[i-d]
Wickelfeatures and double-marking will be less common.
In any case, though Rumelhart and McClelland cannot explain their model's
behavior in this case, they are willing to predict that children as well will
double-mark more often for p- and k-final stems. In the absence of an
explanation as to why the model behaved as it did, Rumelhart and McClelland
should just as readily extrapolate the model's reluctance to double-mark
irregular stems and test the prediction that children should double-mark only
regular forms (if our hypothesis about the model's operation is correct, the
two predictions stem from a common effect). Checking the transcripts, we did
find ropeded and stoppeded (the latter uncertain in transcription) in Adam's
speech, and likeded and pickeded in Sarah's, as Rumelhart and McClelland would
predict. But Adam also said tieded and Sarah said buyded and makeded (an
irregular). Thus the model's prediction that double-marking should be specific
to stems ending with p and d, and then only when they are regular, is not borne
out. In particular, note that buyded and tieded cannot be the result of a
blend of subregularities, because there is no subregularity according to which
buy or tie would tend to attract a @o[i-d] ending.
Finally, Slobin (1985) notes that Hebrew contains two quite pervasive rules for
inflecting the present tense, the first involving a vowel change, the second a
consonantal prefix and a different vowel change . Though Israeli children
overextend the prefix to certain verbs belonging to the first class, they never
blend this prefix of the second class with the vowel change of the first class.
This may be part of a larger pattern that children seem to respect the
integrity of the word as a cohesive unit, one that can have affixes added to it
and that can be modified by general phonological processes, but that cannot
simply be composed as a blend of bits and pieces contributed by various regular
and irregular inflectional regularities. It is suggestive in this regard that
Slobin (1985), in his crosslinguistic survey, lists examples from the speech of
children learning Spanish, French, German, Hebrew, Russian, and Polish, where
the language mandates a stem modification plus the addition of an affix and
children err by only adding the affix.
Once again we see that the model does not receive empirical support from its
ability to mimic a pattern of developmental data. The materials that Rumelhart
and McClelland looked at are again confounded in a way that leaves their
explanation and the standard one focusing on the juxtaposition problem equally
plausible given only the fact of ated errors. One can do better than that. By
looking at unconfounded cases, contrasting predictions leading to critical
tests are possible. In this case, six different empirical tests all go against
the explanation inherent in the Rumelhart and McClelland model: absence of
errors due to blending of subregularities, presence of wenting-type errors,
presence of errors where irregular pasts are used in nonpast contexts, presence
of errors where the regular past ending is mistakenly applied to non-verb
stems, drastic reduction of ated-errors when the correct stem is supplied to
the child, and presence of errors where the regular ending is applied twice to
stems that are irregular or that end in a vowel. These tests show that errors
such as ated are the result of the child incorrectly feeding ate as a base form
into the past tense inflection mechanism, and not the result of blending
components of ate and eated outputs:
To begin with, one must reject the premise that is implicit in Rumelhart and
McClelland's arguments, namely that if their model can duplicate a phenomenon,
the traditional explanation of that phenomenon can be rejected. For one thing,
there is no magic in the RM model duplicating correlations in language systems:
the model can extract any combination of over 200,000 atomic regularities, and
many regularities that are in fact the consequences of an interaction among
principles in several grammatical components will be detectable by the model as
first-order correlations because they fall into that huge set. As we argued in
Section 4, this leaves the structure and constraints on the phenomena
unexplained. But in addition, it leaves many of the simple goodness-of-fit
tests critically confounded. When the requirements of a learning system
designed to attain the adult state are examined, and when unconfounded tests
are sought, the picture changes.
First, some of the developmental phenomena can be accounted for by any
mechanism that keeps records of regularities at several levels of generality,
assigns strengths to them based on type-frequency of exemplification, and lets
them compete in producing past tense candidate forms. These phenomena include
children's shifts or waffling between irregular and overregularized past tense
forms, their tendency not to change verbs ending in t/d, and their tendency to
overregularize verbs with some kinds of vowel alternations less than others.
Since there are good reasons why rule-hypothesization models should be built in
this way, these phenomena do not support the RM model as a whole or in contrast
with rule-based models in general, though they do support the more general (and
uncontroversial) assumption of competition among multiple regularities of
graded strength during acquisition.
Second, the lack of structures corresponding to distinct words in the model,
one of its characteristic features in contrast with rule-based models, might be
related to the phenomenon of blended outputs incorporating independent
subregularities. However, there is no good evidence that children's correct
responses are ever the products of such blends, and there is extensive evidence
from a variety of sources that their ated-type errors are not the products of
such blends. Furthermore, given that many blends are undesirable, it is not
clear that the model should be allowed to output them when a realistic model of
its output process is constructed.
Third, the three-stage or U-shaped course of development for
regular and irregular past tense forms in no way supports the RM model. In
fact, the model provides the wrong explanation for it, making predictions about
changes in the mixture of irregular and regular forms in children's
vocabularies that are completely off the mark.
This means that in the two hypotheses for which unconfounded tests are
available (the cause of the U-shaped overregularization curve, and
the genesis of ated-errors), both of the processes needed by the RM model to
account for developmental phenomena -- frequency-sensitivity and blending --
have been shown to play no important role, and in each case, processes
appealing to rules -- to the child's initial hypothesization of a rule in one
case, and to the child's misapplication of it to incorrect inputs in a second
-- have received independent support. And since the model's explanations in
the two confounded cases (performance with no-change verbs, and order of
acquisition of subclasses) appeal in part to the blending process, the evidence
against blending in our discussion of the ated errors taints these accounts as
well. We conclude that the developmental facts discussed in this section and
the linguistic facts discussed in Section 4 converge on the conclusion that
knowledge of language involves the acquisition and use of symbolic rules.
In this concluding section we do four things: we briefly evaluate Rumelhart and
McClelland's strong claims about language; we evaluate the general claims about
the differences between connectionist and symbolic theories of cognition that
the RM model has been taken to illustrate; we examine some of the ways that the
problems of the RM model problems are inherently due to its PDP architecture,
and hence ways in which our criticisms implicitly extend to certain kinds of
PDP models in general; and we consider whether the model could be salvaged by
using more sophisticated connectionist mechanisms.
There is also no basis for Rumelhart and McClelland's claim that in their
network model, as opposed to traditional accounts, "there is no induction
problem". The induction problem in language acquisition consists, among other
things, of finding sets of inputs that embody generalizations, extracting the
right kinds of generalizations from them, and deciding which generalizations
can be extended to new cases. The model does not deal at all with the first
problem, which involves recognizing that a given word encodes the past tense
and that it constitutes the past tense version of another word. This
juxtaposition problem is relegated to the model's environment (its "teacher"),
or more realistically, some unspecified prior process; such a division of labor
would be unproblematic if it were not for the fact that many of the
developmental phenomena that Rumelhart and McClelland marshall in support of
their model may be intertwined with the juxtaposition process (the onset of
overregularization, and the source of ated errors, most notably). The second
part of the induction problem is dealt with in the theory the old-fashioned
way: by providing it with an innate feature space that is supposed to be
appropriate for the regularities in that domain. In this case, it is the
distinctive features of familiar phonological theories, which are incorporated
into the model's Wickelfeature representations (see also Lachter & Bever,
1987). Aspects in which the RM model differs from traditional accounts in how
it uses distinctive features, such as representing words as unordered pools of
feature trigrams, do not clearly work to the advantage of the model, to put it
mildly. Finally, the theory deals very poorly with the crucial third aspect of
the induction problem, when to generalize to new items. It cannot make proper
phonological generalizations or respect the morphosyntactic constraints on the
domain of application of the regular rule, and in its actual performance it
errs in two ways, both overestimating the significance of the irregular
subgeneralizations and underestimating the generality of the regular rule.
The third claim, that the success of their model calls for a revised
understanding of language and language acquisition, is hardly warranted in
light of the problems we have discussed. To give credit where it is due, we do
not wish to deny the extent to which Rumelhart and McClelland's work has
increased our understanding of language acquisition. The model has raised
intriguing questions about the role of the family resemblance structure of
subregularities and of their frequency of exemplification in
overregularization, the blending of independent subregularities in generating
overt outputs, effects of the mixture of regular and irregular forms in the
input on the tradeoffs between rote and generalization, and the causes of
transitions between developmental stages, in particular, the relative roles of
the present-past juxtaposition process and the pattern-extraction process. But
the model does not give superior or radically new answers for the questions it
raises.
We view macrotheories as approximations to the underlying
microstructure which the distributed model presented in our paper
attempts to capture. As approximations they are often useful, but in
some situations it will turn out that an examination of the
microstructure may bring much deeper insight. (Rumelhart & McClelland,
PDPI, p. 125).
...these [macro-level] models are approximations and should not be
pushed too far. (Rumelhart & McClelland, p. 126; bracketed material
ours here and elsewhere).
One of the reasons that connectionist theorists tend to reserve no role for
higher-level theories as anything but approximations is that they create a
dichotomy that, we think, is misleading. They associate the systematic,
rule-based analysis of linguistic knowledge with what they call the "explicit
inaccessible rule" view of psychology, which
In fact, there is no necessary link between realistic interpretation of rule
theories and the "explicit inaccessible" view. Rules could be explicitly
inscribed and accessed, but they also could be implemented in hardware in such
a way that every consequence of the rule-system holds. If the latter turns out
to be the case in a cognitive domain, there is a clear sense in which the
rule-theory is validated -- it is exactly true -- rather than faced with a
competing alternative or relegated to the status of an approximate
convenience.(Note as well that many of the examples offered to give
common-sense support to the desirability of eliminating rules are seriously
misleading because they appeal to a confusion between attributing a rule-system
to an entity and attributing the wrong rule-system to an entity. An example
that Rumelhart and McClelland cite, in which it is noted that bees can create
hexagonal cells in their hive with no knowledge of the rules of geometry, gains
its intuitive force because of this confusion.)
Consider pattern-associators like Rumelhart and McClelland's, which gives
symbolic output from symbolic input. Under a variety of conditions, it will
function as a rule-implementer. To take only the simplest, suppose that all
connection weights are 0 except those from the input node for feature f to the
i
output node for f , which are set to 1. Then the network will implement the
i
identity map. There is no read-head, write-head, or executive overseeing the
operation, yet it is legitimate and even enlightening to speak of it in terms
of rules manipulating symbols.
More realistically, one can abstract from the RM pattern associator an implicit
theory implicating a "representation" consisting of a set of unordered
Wickelfeatures and a list of "rules" replacing Wickelfeatures with other
Wickelfeatures. Examining the properties of such rules and representations is
quite revealing. We can find out what it takes to add /d/ to a stem; what it
takes to reverse the order of phonemes in an input; whether simple local
modifications of a string are more easily handled than complex global ones; and
so on. The results we obtain carry over without modification to the actual
pattern associator, where much more complex conditions prevail. The
deficiencies of Wickelphone/Wickelfeature transformation are as untouched by
the addition of thresholds, logistic probability functions, temperatures, and
parameters of that ilk as they are by whether the program implementing the
model is written in Fortran or C.
An important role of higher-level theory, as Marr for one has made clear, is to
delineate the basic assumptions that lower level models must inevitably be
built on. From this perspective, the high-level theory is not some
approximation whose behavior offers a gross but useful guide to reality.
Rather, the relation is one of embodiment: the lower-level theory embodies the
higher level theory, and it does so with exactitude. The RM model has a theory
of linguistic knowledge associated with it; it is just that the theory is so
unorthodox that one has to look with some care to find it. But if we want to
understand the model, dealing with the embodied theory is not a convenience,
but a necessity, and it should be pushed as far as possible.
In a radical or eliminative connectionist model, the overall properties of the
rule-theory of a domain are not only caused by the mechanisms of the
micro-theory (that is, the stipulated properties of the units and connections)
but follow in a natural way from micro-assumptions that are well-motivated on
grounds that have nothing to do with the structure of the domain under
macro-scrutiny. The rule-theory would have second-class status because its
assumptions would be epiphenomena: if you really want to understand why things
take the shape they do, you must turn not to the axioms of a rule-theory but to
the micro-ecology that they follow from. The intuition behind the symbolic
paradigm is quite different: here rule-theory drives micro-theory; we expect
to find many characteristics of the micro-level which make no micro-sense, do
not derive from natural micro-assumptions or interactions, and can only be
understood in terms of the higher-level system being implemented.
The RM pattern associator again provides us with some specific examples. As
noted, it is surely significant that the regular past-tense morphology leaves
the stem completely unaltered. Suppose we attempt to encode this in the
pattern associator by pre-setting it for the identity map; then for the vast
majority of items (perhaps more than 95% on the whole vocabulary), most
connections will not have to be changed at all. In this way, we might be able
to make the learner pay (in learning time) for divergences from identity. But
such a setting has no justification from the micro-level perspective, which
conduces only to some sort of uniformity (all weights 0, for example, or all
random); the labels that we use from our perspective as theorists are invisible
to the units themselves, and the connections implementing the identity map are
indistinguishable at the micro-level from any other connections. Wiring it in
is an implementational strategy driven by outside considerations, a fingerprint
of the macro-theory.
An actual example in the RM model as it stands is the selective blurring of
Wickelfeature representations. When the Wickelfeature ABC is part of an input
stem, extra wickelfeatures XBC and ABY are also turned on, but AXC is not: as
we noted above (see also Lachter & Bever, 1987), this is motivated by the
macro-principles that individual phonemes are the significant units of analysis
and that phonological interactions when they occur generally involve adjacent
pairs of segments. It is not motivated by any principle of micro-level
connectionism.
Even the basic organization of the RM model, simple though it is, comes from
motives external to the micro-level. Why should it be that the stem is mapped
to the past tense, that the past tense arises from a modification of the stem?
Because a sort of intuitive proto-linguistics tells us so. It is easy to set
up a network in which stem and past tense are represented only in terms of
their semantic features, so that generalization gradients are defined over
semantic similarity (e.g. hit and strike would be subject to similar changes in
the past tense), with the unwelcome consequence that no phonological relations
will `emerge'. Indeed, the telling argument against the RM pattern associator
as a model of linguistic knowledge is that its very design forces it to blunder
past the major generalizations of the English system. It is not unthinkable
that many of the design flaws could be overcome, resulting in a connectionist
network that learns more insightfully. But subsymbolism or eliminative
connectionism, as a radical metatheory of cognitive science, will not be
vindicated if the principal structures of such hypothetical improved models
turn out to be dictated by higher-level theory rather than by
micro-necessities. To the extent that connectionist models are not mere
isotropic node tangles, they will themselves have properties that call out for
explanation. We expect that in many cases, these explanations will constitute
the macro-theory of the rules that the system would be said to implement.
Here we see, too, why radical connectionism is so closely wedded to the notion
of blank slates, simple learning mechanisms, and vectors of "teaching" inputs
juxtaposed unit-by-unit with the networks' output vectors. If you really want
a network not to implement any rules at all, the properties of the units and
connections at the micro-level must suffice to organize the network into
something that behaves intelligently. Since these units are too simple and too
oblivious to the requirements of the computational problem that the entire
network will be required to solve to do the job, the complexity of the system
must derive from the complexity of the set of environmental inputs causing the
units to execute their simple learning functions. One explains the organization
of the system, then, only in terms of the structure of the environment, the
simple activation and learning abilities of the units, and the tools and
language of those aspects of statistical mechanics apropos to the aggregate
behavior of the units as they respond to environmental contingencies (as in
Smolensky, 1986; Hinton and Sejnowski, 1986) -- the rules genuinely would have
no role to play.
As it turns out, the RM model requires both kinds of explanation -- implemented
macrotheory and massive supervised learning -- in accounting for its asymptotic
organization. Rumelhart and McClelland made up for the model's lack of proper
rule-motivated structure by putting it into a teaching environment that was
unrealistically tailored to produce much of the behavior they wanted to see. In
the absence of macro-organization the environment must bear a very heavy
burden.
Rumelhart and McClelland (1986a) recognize this implication clearly and
unflinchingly in the two paragraphs they devote in their volumes to answering
the question "Why are People Smarter than Rats?":
Hinton, et al (1986) point to a number of useful characteristics of distributed
representations. They provide a kind of content-addressable memory, from which
individual entities may be called up through their properties. They provide
for automatic generalization: things true of individual X can be inherited by
individual Y inasmuch as the representation of Y overlaps that of X (i.e.
inasmuch as Y shares properties with X) and activation of the overlapping
portion during learning has been correlated with generalizable properties. And
they allow for the formation of new concepts in a system via new combinations
of properties that the system already represents.
It is often asserted that distributed representation using features is uniquely
available to PDP models, and stands as the hallmark of a new paradigm of
cognitive science, one that calculates not with symbols but with what Smolensky
(1987) has dubbed `subsymbols' (basically, what Rumelhart, McClelland, and
Hinton call `microfeatures'). Smolensky puts it this way:
Of course, distributed representation in PDP models implies more than just
featural decomposition: an entity is represented as nothing but the features it
is composed of. Concatenative structure, constituency, variables, and their
binding -- in short, syntagmatic organization -- are virtually abandoned. This
is where the RM model and similar PDP efforts really depart from previous work,
and also where they fail most dramatically.
A crucial problem is the difficulty PDP models have in representing individuals
and variables (this criticism is also made by Norman (1986) in his generally
favorable appraisal of PDP models). The models represent individual objects as
sets of their features. Nothing, however, represents the fact that a
collection of features corresponds to an existing individual: that it is
distinct from a twin that might share all its features, or that an object
similar to a previously viewed one is a single individual that has undergone a
change as opposed to two individual objects that happen to resemble one
another, or that a situation has undergone a change if two identical objects
have switched positions.(We thank David Kirsch for these examples). In the RM
model, for example, this problem manifests itself in the inability to supply
different past tenses for homophonous verbs such as wring and ring, or to
enforce a categorical distinction between morphologically disparate verbs that
are given similar featural representations such as become and succumb, to
mention just two of the examples discussed in Section .
As we have mentioned, an seemingly obvious way to handle this problem -- just
increase the size of the feature set so that more distinctions can be encoded
-- will not do. For one thing, the obvious kinds of features to add, such as
semantic features to distinguish homophones, gives the model too much power, as
we have mentioned: it could use any semantic property or combination of
semantic and phonological properties to distinguish inflectional rules, whereas
in fact only a relatively small set of features are ever encoded inflectionally
in the world's languages (Talmy, 1985; Bybee, 1985). Furthermore, the crucial
properties governing choice of inflection are not semantic at all but refer to
abstract morphological entities such as basic lexical itemhood or roothood.
Finally, this move would commit one to the prediction that semantically-related
words are likely to have similar past tenses, which is just not true (compare,
e.g. [hit/hit] versus [strike/struck] versus [slap/slapped] (similar meanings,
different kinds of past tenses) or [stand/stood] versus [understand/understood]
versus [stand out/stood out] (different meanings, same kind of past tense).
Basically, increasing the feature set is only an approximate way to handle the
problem of representing individuals; by making finer distinctions it makes it
less likely that individuals will be confused but it still does not encode
individuals as individuals. The relevant difference between wring and ring as
far as the past tense is concerned is that they are different words, pure and
simple.(Of course, another problem with merely increasing the feature set,
especially if the features are conjunctive, is that the network can easily grow
too large very quickly. Recall that Wickelphones, which in principle can make
finer distinctions than Wickelfeatures, would have required a network with more
than two billion connections.)
A second way of handling the problem is to add arbitrary features that simply
distinguish words. In the extreme case, there could be a set of n features over
which n orthogonal patterns of activation stand in one-to-one correspondence
with n lexical items. This won't work, either. The basic problem is that
distributed representations, when they are the only representations of objects,
face the conflicting demands of keeping individuals distinct and providing the
basis for generalization. As it stands, Rumelhart and McClelland must walk a
fine line between keeping similar words distinct and getting the model to
generalize to new inputs -- witness their use of Wickelfeatures over
Wickelphones, their decision to encode a certain proportion of incorrect
Wickelfeatures, their use of a noisy output function for the past tense units,
all designed to blur distinctions and foster generalization (as mentioned, the
effort was only partially successful, as the model failed to generalize
properly to many unfamiliar stems). Dedicating some units to representing
wordhood would be a big leap in the direction of nongeneralizability. With
orthogonal patterns representing words, in the extreme case, word-specific
output features could be activated accurately in every case and the discrepancy
between computed-output and teacher-supplied-input needed to strengthen
connections from the relevant stem features would never occur. Intermediate
solutions, such as having a relatively small set of word-distinguishing
features available to distinguish homophones with distinct endings, might help.
But given the extremely delicate balance between discriminability and
generalizability, one won't know until it is tried, and in any case, it would
at best be a hack that did not tackle the basic problem at hand: individuating
individuals, and associating them with the abstract predicates that govern the
permissible generalizations in the system.
The lack of a mechanism to bind sets of features together as individuals causes
problems at the output end, too. A general problem for coarse-coded distributed
representations is that when two individuals are simultaneously represented,
the system can lose track of which feature goes with which individual --
leading to "illusory conjunctions" where, say, an observer may be unable to say
whether he or she is seeing a blue circle and a red triangle or a red triangle
and a blue circle (see Treisman and Schmidt, 1982; Hinton, et al, 1986). The RM
model simultaneously computes past tense output features corresponding to
independent subregularities which it is then unable to keep separate, resulting
in incorrect blends such as slept as the past tense of slip -- a kind of
self-generated phonological illusory conjunction. The current substitute for a
realistic binding mechanism, namely the "whole-string binding network", does
not do the job, and we are given no reason to believe that a more realistic and
successful model is around the corner. The basic point is that the binding
problem is a core deficiency of this kind of distributed representation, not a
minor detail whose solution can be postponed to some later date.
The other main problem with features-only distributed representations is that
they do not easily provide variables that stand for sets of individuals
regardless of their featural decomposition, and over which quantified
generalizations can be made. This dogs the RM model in many places. For
example, there is the inability to represent certain reduplicative words, in
which the distinction between a feature occurring once versus occurring twice
is crucial, or in learning the general nature of the rule of reduplication,
where a morpheme must be simply copied: one needs a variable standing for an
occurrence of a morpheme independent of the particular features it is composed
of. In fact, even the English regular rule of adding /d/ is never properly
learned (that is, the model does not generalize it properly to many words),
because in essence the real rule causes an affix to be added to a "word", which
is a variable standing for any admissible phone sequence, whereas the model
associates the family of /d/ features with a list of particular phone sequences
it has encountered instead. Many of the other problems we have pointed out can
also be traced to the lack of variables.
We predict that the kind of distributed representation used in the two layer
pattern-associators like the one in the RM model will cause similar problems
anywhere they are used in modeling middle- to high-level cognitive
processes.(Within linguistic semantics, for example, a well-known problem is
that if semantic representation is a set of features, how are propositional
connectives defined over such feature sets? If P is a set of features, what
function of connectionist representation will give the set for -P?) Hinton,
McClelland, and Rumelhart themselves provide an example that (perhaps
inadvertently) illustrates the general problem:
The point is that people's inductive inferences depend on variables assigned to
sets of individuals that pick out some properties and completely ignore others,
differently on different occasions, depending in knowledge-specific ways on the
nature of the inductive inference to be made on that occasion. Furthermore the
knowledge that can totally alter or reverse an inductive inference is not just
another pattern of trained feature correlations, but depends crucially on the
structured propositional content of the knowledge: learning that all gorillas
are exclusively carnivorous will lead to a different generalization about their
taste for onions than learning that some or many are exclusively carnivorous or
that it is not the case that all gorillas are exclusively carnivorous, and
learning that a particular gorilla who happens to have a broken leg does not
like onions will not necessarily lead to any tendency to project that distaste
onto other injured gorillas and chimpanzees. Though similarity surely plays a
role in domains of which people are entirely unfamiliar, or perhaps in initial
gut reactions, full-scale intuitive inference is not a mere reflection of
patterns of featural similarity that have been intercorrelated in the past.
Therefore one would not want to use the automatic-generalization properties of
distributed representations to provide an account of human inductive inference
in general. This is analogous to the fact we have been stressing throughout,
namely that the past tense inflectional system is not a slave to similarity but
it is driven in precise ways by speakers' implicit "theories" of linguistic
organization.
In sum, featural decomposition is an essential feature of standard symbolic
models of language and cognition, and many of the successes of PDP models
simply inherit these advantages. However what is unique about the RM model and
other two-layer pattern associators is the claim that individuals and types are
represented as nothing but activated subsets of features. This impoverished
mechanism is viable neither in language nor in cognition in general. The
featural decomposition of an object must be available to certain processes, but
can only be one of the records associated with the object and need not enter
into all the processes referring to the object. Some symbol referring to the
object qua object, and some variable types referring to task-relevant classes
of objects that cut across featural similarity, are required.
Why do Rumelhart and McClelland have to obliterate the traditional
decomposition to begin with? The principal reason is that when one breaks a
system down into components, the components must communicate by passing
information -- internal representations -- among themselves. But because these
are internal representations the environment cannot "see" them and so cannot
adjust them during learning via the perceptron convergence procedure used in
the RM model. Furthermore, the internal representations do not correspond
directly to environmental inputs and outputs and so the criteria for matches
and mismatches necessary to drive the convergence procedure are not defined. In
other words the representations used in decomposed, modular systems are
abstract, and many aspects of their organization cannot be learned in any
obvious way. (Chomsky, 1981, calls this the argument from "poverty of the
stimulus"). Sequences of morphemes resulting from factoring out phonological
changes are one kind of abstract representation used in rule systems; lexical
entries distinct from phonetic representations are another; morphological roots
are a third. The RM model thus is composed of a single module mapping from
input directly to output in part because there is no realistic way for their
convergence procedure to learn the internal representations of a modular
account properly.
A very general point we hope to have made in this paper is that symbolic models
of language were not designed for arbitrary reasons and preserved as quaint
traditions; the distinctions they make are substantive claims motivated by
empirical facts and cannot be obliterated unless a new model provides equally
compelling accounts of those facts. Designing a model that can record hundreds
of thousands of first-order correlations can simulate some but not all of this
structure and is unable to explain it or to account for the structures that do
not occur across languages. Similar conclusions, we predict, will emerge from
other cognitive domains that are rich in data and theory. It is unlikely that
any model will be able to obliterate distinctions among subcomponents and their
corresponding forms of abstract internal representations that have been
independently motivated by detailed study of a domain of cognition. This alone
will sharply brake any headlong movement away from the kinds of theories that
have been constructed within the symbolic framework.
In particular, two interesting kinds of networks, the Boltzmann Machine (Hinton
& Sejnowski, 1986) and the Back-Propagation scheme (Rumelhart, et al, 1986)
have been developed recently that have "hidden units" or intermediate layers
between input and output. These hidden units function as internal
representations and as a result such networks are capable of computing
functions that are uncomputable in two-layer pattern associators of the RM
variety. Furthermore, in many interesting cases the models have been able to
"learn internal representations". For example the Rumelhart et al model changes
not only the weights of the connections to its output units in response to an
error with respect to the teaching input, but it propagates the error signal
backwards to the intermediate units and changes their weights in the direction
that alters their aggregate effect on the output in the right direction.
Perhaps, then, a multilayered PDP network with back-propagation learning could
avoid the problems of the RM model.
There are three reasons why such speculations are basically irrelevant to the
points we have been making.
First, there is the gap between revolutionary manifestoes and actual
accomplishments. Rumelhart and McClelland's surprising claims -- that language
can be described only approximately by rules, that there is no induction
problem in their account, and that we must revise our understanding of
linguistic information processing -- are based on the putative success of their
existing model. Given that their existing model does not do the job it is said
to do, the claims must be rejected. If a PDP advocate were to eschew the
existing RM model and appeal to more powerful mechanisms, the only claim that
could be made is that there may exist a model of unspecified design that may or
may not account for past tense acquisition without the use of rules and that if
it did, we should revise our understanding of language, treat rules as mere
approximations, and so on. Such an assertion, of course, would have as little
claim to our attention as any other claim about the hypothetical consequences
of a nonexistent model.
Second, a successful PDP model of more complex design may be nothing more than
an implementation of a symbolic rule-based account. The advantage of a
multilayered model is precisely that it is free from the constraints that so
sharply differentiated the RM model from standard ones, namely, the lack of
internal representations and subcomponents. Multilayered networks, and other
sophisticated models such as those that have one network that can gate the
connections between two others or networks that can simulate semantic networks,
production systems, or LISP primitive operations (Hinton, 1981; Touretzky,
1986; Touretzky & Hinton, 1985) are appealing because they have the ability to
mimic or implement the standard operations and representations needed in
traditional symbolic accounts (though perhaps with some twists). We do not
doubt that it would be possible to implement a rule system in networks with
multiple layers: after all, it has been known for over 45 years that nonlinear
neuron-like elements can function as logic gates and that hence that networks
consisting of interconnected layers of such elements can compute propositions
(McCulloch and Pitts, 1943). Furthermore, given what we know about neural
information processing and plasticity it seems likely that the elementary
operations of symbolic processing will have to be implemented in a system
consisting of massively interconnected parallel stochastic units in which the
effects of learning are manifest in changes in connections. These
uncontroversial facts have always been at the very foundations of the realist
interpretation of symbolic models of cognition; they do not signal a departure
of any sort from standard symbolic accounts. Perhaps a multilayered or gated
multinetwork system could solve the tasks of inflection acquisition without
simply implementing standard grammars intact (for example, they might behave
discrepantly from a set of rules in a way that mimicked people's systematic
divergence from that set of rules, or their intermediate layers might be
totally opaque in terms of what they represent), and thus would call for a
revised understanding of language, but there is at present no reason to believe
that this will be true.
As we mentioned in a previous section, the really radical claim is that there
are models that can learn their internal organization through a process that
can be exhaustively described as an interaction between the correlational
structure of environmental inputs and the aggregate behavior of the units as
they execute their simple learning and activation functions in response to
those inputs. But there is at present no reason to believe the general version
of this claim. An important technical problem is that when intermediate layers
of more complex networks have to learn anything in the local unconstrained
manner characteristic of PDP models, they are one or more layers removed from
the output layer at which discrepancies between actual and desired outputs are
recorded. Their inputs and outputs no longer correspond in any direct way to
overt stimuli and responses, and the steps needed to modify their weights are
no longer transparent. Since differences in the setting of each tunable
component of the intermediate layers have consequences that are less dramatic
at the comparison stage (their effects combine in complex ways with the effects
of weight changes of other units before affecting the output layer), it is
harder to ensure that the intermediate layers will be properly tuned by local
adjustments propagating backwards. Rumelhart, et al (1986) have dealt with this
problem in clever ways with some interesting successes in simple domains such
as learning to add two-digit numbers, detecting symmetry, or learning the
exclusive-`or' operator. But there is always the danger in such systems of
converging on incorrect solutions defined by local minima of the "energy
landscape" defined over the space of possible weights, and such factors as the
starting configuration, the order of inputs, several parameters of the learning
function, the number of hidden units, and the innate topology of the network
(such as whether all input units are connected to all intermediate units, and
whether they are connected to all output units via direct paths or only through
intervening links) can all influence whether the models will properly converge
even in some of the simple cases. There is no reason to predict with certainty
that these models will fail to acquire complex abilities such as mastery of the
past tense system without wiring in traditional theories by hand -- but there
is also no reason to predict that they will.
These problems are exactly that, problems. They do not demonstrate that
interesting PDP models of language are impossible in principle. At the same
time, they show that there is no basis for the belief that connectionism will
dissolve the difficult puzzles of language, or even provide radically new
solutions to them. As for the present, we have shown that the paradigm example
of a PDP model of language can claim nothing more than a superficial fidelity
to some first-order regularities of language. More is known than just the
first-order regularities, and when the deeper and more diagnostic patterns are
examined with care, one sees not only that the PDP model is not a viable
alternative to symbolic theories, but that the symbolic account is supported in
virtually every aspect. Principled symbolic theories of language have achieved
success with a broad spectrum of empirical generalizations, some of
considerable depth, ranging from properties of linguistic structure to patterns
of development in children. It is only such success that can warrant
confidence in the reality and exactitude of our claims to understanding.
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Prefixed forms are listed when the prefix-root combination is not semantically
transparent.
The term 'laxing' refers to the replacement of a tense vowel or diphthong by
its lax counterpart. In English, due to the Great Vowel Shift, the notion 'lax
counterpart' is slightly odd: the tense-lax alternations are not i-I,
e-@symbol[e, u-U], and so on, but rather ay-I, i-@symbol[e, e-a@kern[2
points]e, o-O/a, u-O/a]. The term 'ablaut' refers to all other vowel changes.
hit, slit, split, quit, ?knit(+),(He knit a sweater is possible, not ??He knit
2. T/D with Laxing Class
bleed, breed, feed, lead, mislead, read, speed(+), ?plead(+)
3. Overt -T Ending
3a. Suffix -t
burn, ??learn, ?dwell, ??spell, ???smell
3b. Devoicing.
bend, send, spend, ?lend, ?rend
3c. -t with Laxing
lose
3d. x - ought - ought
buy, bring, catch, fight, seek, teach, think
4. Overt -D Ending
4a. Satellitic laxing (cf. bleed group)
flee
4b. Drop stem consonant
have
4c. With Ablaut [@symbol[e - o - o]]
sell, tell, foretell
4d. With unique vowel change and +n participle:
do
freeze, speak, ??bespeak, steal, weave(+)(Only in reference to carpets, etc. is
get, forget, ??beget
??tread(Though trod is common in British English, it is at best quaint in
American English.)
swear, tear, wear, ?bear, ??forbear, ??forswear
2. Satellitic x - o - o+n
awake, wake, break
ring, sing, spring
2. I - ^ - ^
cling, ?fling, sling, sting, string, swing, wring
3. Satellites x - a@kern[2 pointse/^ - ^]
run (cf. I - a@kern[2 points]e - ^)
1. x - u - x/o+n
blow, grow, know, throw
draw, withdraw
fly
?slay
2. e - U - e+n
take, mistake, forsake, shake, partake
3. ay - aw - aw
bind, find, grind, wind
4. ay - o - X
4a. ay - o - I+n
rise, arise
write, ??smite
ride
drive, ?strive
4b. ay - o - ?
dive, shine(Typically intransitive: *He shone his shoes.)
1. Pure Suppletion
be
2. Backwards Ablaut
fall, befall (cf. get-got)
3. x - Y - x+n
eat
4. Miscellaneous
sit, spit
5. Regular but for past participle
a. Add -n to stem (all allow -ed in participle)
sow, show, sew, prove, shear, strew
b. Add -n to ablauted stem
swell
(2)Compare in this regard Ross's (1975) study of productive affixation, which
uncovers an actual constraint involving the central/extended distinction. Ross
finds that prefixes like re-, un-, mis-, which affect meaning, are sensitive in
various ways to the meaning of the base they attach to. He amply documents the
fact that such prefixes reject metaphorically extended bases. Thus: "Horace
Silver (*re-)cut Liberace" (cut = 'played better than'), "Larry (*mis-)fed
Dennis" (fed = 'passed the basketball to'). Examination of Ross's numerous
examples shows not one where metaphorical extension affects irregularity. The
contrast could not be starker. Notions like 'past tense' have no sensitivity to
the lexical semantics of the base.
(3)For details of the study, see Brown, 1973; for descriptions of the
unpublished grammars, see Brown, 1973, and Pinker, 1984. Verification of some
of the details reported in the grammars, and additional analyses of children's
speech to be reported in this paper, were based on on-line transcripts of the
speech of the Brown children included in the Child Language Data Exchange
System; MacWhinney & Snow, 1985.
In addition, a rule-system is organized by principles which determine the
interactions between rules: whether they compete or feed, and if they compete,
which wins. A major factor in regulating the feeding relation is organization
into components: morphology, an entire set of formation rules, feeds
phonology, which feeds phonetics.[More intricate variations on this basic
pattern are explored in recent work in "Lexical Phonology"; see Kiparsky
(1982a, b).]. Competition among morphological alternatives is under the
control of a principle of paradigm structure (called the 'Unique Entry
Principle' in Pinker, 1984) which guarantees that in general each word will
have one and only one form for each relevant morphological category; this is
closely related to the 'Elsewhere Condition' of formal linguistics (Kiparsky
1982a, b). The effect is that when a general rule (like Past(x) = x + 'ed')
formally overlaps a specific rule (like Past(go) = went), the specific rule not
only applies but also blocks the general one from applying.
________________________
| lexicon of morphemes |
| (stems,affixes,etc.) |
|________________________|
|
|
@kern[5 points]V
_____________________
| Morphology | <--Paradigm Uniqueness Principle
|_____________________|
|
|
@kern[5 points]V
___________________
| Phonology |
|____________________|
|
|
@kern[5 points]V
____________________
| Phonetics |
|_____________________|
|
|
@kern[5 points]V
Interface with perceptual and motor systems
With this general structure in mind, we can now examine how the RM model
differs in "not having rules".
The Rumelhart-McClelland Model
@ee[ Uninflected Stem --> Pattern Associator --> Past Form ]
This proposed organization of knowledge collapses the major distinctions
embodied in the linguistic theory sketched in (). In the following sections we
ascertain and evaluate the consequences of this move.
Figure 1 Here
=========================================
An Analysis of the Assumptions of the Rumelhart-McClelland Model in
Comparison with Symbolic Accounts
These rather specific assumptions combine to support the broader claim that
connectionism supplies a viable alternative to highly structured symbol-
processing theories such as that sketched above. "We have shown," they write
(PDP II, p. 267), "that a reasonable account of the acquisition of the past
tense can be provided without recourse to the notion of a 'rule' as anything
more than a description of the language." By this they mean that rules, as
mere summaries of the data, are not intrinsically or causally involved in
internal representations. Rumelhart and McClelland's argument for the broader
claim is based entirely on the behavior of their model.
Wickelphonology
[i] as in beat [u] as in shoe
[e] as in bait [o] as in go
The lax vowels are:
[I] as in bit [U] as in put
[@symbol[e]] as in bet [O] as in lost
The low front vowel [a@kern[2 points]e] appears in cat. The low central vowel
[^] appears in shut. We will also use the symbol [O] for the vowel of caught.
The diphthong [ay] appears in might and bite; the diphthong [aw] in house. The
high lax central vowel [@o[i-]] is the second vowel in melted, rose's.
a. b.
albal albalbal
#al #al
alb alb
lba lba
bal bal
al# alb
lba
bal
al#
Wickelphone sets containing subsets closed under cyclic permutation on the
character string -- {alb, bal, lba} in the example at hand -- are infinitely
ambiguous as to the strings they encode. This shows that Wickelphones cannot
represent even relatively short strings, much less strings of arbitrary length,
without loss of concatenation structure (loss is guaranteed for strings over a
certain length). On elementary grounds, then, the Wickelphone is demonstrably
inadequate.
@ee[ a. write-written b. bite-bit c. ignite-ignition d. senile-senility e.
The Wickelphone/Wickelfeature provides surprisingly little help in finding
phonological generalizations. There are two domains in which significant
similarities are operative: (1) among items in the input set, and (2) between
an input item and its output form. Taking the trigram as the primitive unit of
description impedes the discovery of inter-item similarity relations.
@ee[ a. {#ki, kil, il#} --> {#ki, kil, ild, ld#} b. il# --> ild, ld# ]
The change, shown in (KILLb), is exactly the full replacement of one
Wickelphone by two others. The Wickelphone is in principle incapable of
representing an observation like 'add [d] to the end of a word when it ends in
a voiced consonant', because there is no way to single out the one word-ending
consonant and no way to add a phoneme without disrupting the stem; you must
refer to the entire sequence AB#, whether A is relevant or not, and you must
replace it entirely, regardless of whether the change preserves input string
structure. Given time and space, the facts can be registered on a
Wickelfeature-by-Wickelfeature basis, but the unifying pattern is
undiscoverable. Since the relevant phonological process involves only a pair
of representationally adjacent elements, the triune Wickelphone/Wickelfeature
is quite generally incompetent to locate the relevant factors and to capitalize
on them in learning, with consequences we will see when we examine the model's
success in generalizing to new forms.
All we claim for the present coding scheme is its sufficiency for the
task of representing the past tenses of the 500 most frequent verbs in
English and the importance of the basic principles of distributed,
coarse (what we are calling blurred), conjunctive coding that it
embodies. (PDPII, p.239)
This disclaimer is at odds with the centrality of the Wickelfeature in the
model's design. The Wickelfeature structure is not some kind of approximation
that can easily be sharpened and refined; it is categorically the wrong kind of
thing for the jobs assigned to it.Phonology and Morphology
The full generality of the component processes inherent in the t-d-@o[i-d]
alternation only becomes apparent when we examine the widespread s-z-@o[i-z]
alternation found in the diverse morphological categories collected below:
@ee[
a. Plural hawks dogs hoses b. 3psg hits sheds chooses c. Possessive Pat's
Fred's George's d. has Pat's Fred's George's e. is Pat's Fred's George's f.
does what's where's --- g. Affective Pats(y) Wills, bonkers --- h. adverbial
thereabouts towards, nowadays --- i. Linking -s huntsman landsman --- ]]
a. [my mother-in-law]'s hat (cf. plural: mothers-in-law)
The remaining formal categories (NPf-h) share the s/z part of the pattern. The
auxiliary does, when unstressed, can reduce colloquially to its final
sibilant: A post-sibilant environment in which @o[i-z] would be necessary seems
somewhat less available in natural speech:
b. [the man you met]'s dog
c. [the man you spoke to]'s here. (Main verb be)
d. [the student who did well]'s being escorted home. (Auxiliary be)
e. [the patient who turned yellow]'s been getting better. (Auxiliary has)
(i) ? What church's he go to?
We suspect that the problem here lies in getting does to reduce at all in such
structural environments, regardless of phonology. If this is right, then (i)
and (ii) should be as good (or bad) as structurally identical(v) and (vi),
where the sibilant-sibilant problem doesn't arise:
(ii) ?? Whose lunch's he eat from?
(iii) ?? Which's he like better?
(iv) ?? Whose's he actually prefer?
(v) ? What synagogue's he go to?
Sentence forms (iii) and (iv) use the wh-determiners which and whose without
following head nouns, which may introduce sufficient additional structural
complexity to inhibit reduction. At any rate, this detail, though interesting
in itself, is orthogonal to the question of what happens to does when it does
reduce.
(vi) ? Whose dinner's he eat from?
a. 'Z he like beans?
The affective marker s/z forms nicknames in some dialects and argots, as in
Wills from William, Pats from Patrick, and also shows up in various
emotionally-colored neologisms like bonkers, bats, paralleling -y or -o (batty,
wacko), with which it sometimes combines (Patsy, fatso). A number of adverbial
forms are marked by s/z -- unawares, nowadays, besides, backwards,
here/there/whereabouts, amidships. A final, quite sporadic (but phonologically
regular) use links together elements of compounds, as in huntsman, statesman,
kinsman, bondsman.
b. What's he eat for lunch?
c. Where's he go for dinner?
a. ax, fix, box [ks]
Entirely absent are words ending in a cluster with mixed voicing: [zt], [gs],
[kz], etc.(In noncomplex words obstruent clusters are overwhelmingly voiceless:
the word adze [dz) pretty much stands alone.] Notice that after vowels,
liquids, and nasals (non-obstruents) a voicing contrast is permitted:
b. act, fact, product [kt]
c. traipse, lapse, corpse [ps]
d. apt, opt, abrupt [pt]
e. blitz, kibitz, Potts [ts]
f. post, ghost, list [st]
a. lens -- fence [nz] -- [ns]
If we are to achieve uniformity in the treatment of consonant- cluster voicing,
we must not spread it out over 10 or so distinct morphological form generators
(i.e., 10 different networks), and then repeat it once again in the phonetic
component that applies to unanalyzable words. Otherwise, we would have no
explanation for why English contains, and why generation after generation of
children easily learn, the exact same pattern eleven or so different times.
Eleven unrelated sets of cluster patternings would be just as likely. Rather,
the voicing pattern must be factored out of the morphology and allowed to stand
on its own.
b. furze -- force [rz] -- [rs]
c. wild -- wilt [ld] -- [lt]
d. bulb -- help [lb] -- [lp]
e. goad -- goat [od] -- [ot]
f. niece -- sneeze [is] -- [iz]
Voicing assimilation. Spread the value of voicing from one obstruent to
the next in word final position. (More likely, syllable-final position.)
Rule (VA) is motivated by the facts of simplex words shown above: it holds of
ax and adze and is restricted so as to allow goat and horse to escape
unaffected --they end in single obstruents not clusters. When a final cluster
comes about via morphology, the rule works like this:
a. pig + /z/ Vacuous
b. pit + /z/ --> [pIts]
c. pea + /z/ No Change
d. rub + /d/ Vacuous
e. rip + /d/ --> [rIpt]
f. tow + /d/ No Change
The crucial effect of the rule is to devoice /d/ and /z/ after voiceless
obstruents; after voiced obstruents its effect is vacuous and after
nonobstruents -- vowels, liquids, nasals -- it doesn't apply at all, allowing
the basic values to emerge unaltered.(Notice that if /t/ and /s/ were taken as
basic, we would require a special rule of voicing, restricted to suffixes, to
handle the case of words ending in vowels, liquids, and nasals. For example,
pea + /s/ would have to go to pea + [z), even though this pattern of voicing is
not generally required in the language: cf. the morphologically simplex word
peace. Positing /d/ and /z/ as basic, on the other hand, allows the rule (VA),
which is already part of English, to derive the suffixal voicing pattern
without further ado.]
Vowel Insertion. Word-finally, separate with the vowel @o[i-] adjacent
consonants that are too similar in place and manner of articulation, as defined
by the canons of English word phonology.
The two phonological rules have a competitive interaction. Words like passes
[pa@kern[2 points]es@o[i-]z] and pitted [pIt@o[i-]d] show that Vowel Insertion
will always prevent Voicing Assimilation: from pass + /z/ and pit + /d/ we
never get [pa@kern[2 points]es@o[i-]s] or [pIt@o[i-]t], with assimilation to
the voiceless final consonant. Various lines of explanation might be pursued;
we tentatively suggest that the outcome of the competition follows from the
rather different character of the two rules. Voicing Assimilation is highly
phonetic in character, and might well be part of the system that implements
phonological representations rather than part of the phonology proper, where
representations are defined, constructed, and changed. If Vowel Insertion, as
seems likely, actually changes the representation prior to implementation, then
it is truly phonological in character. Assuming the componential organization
of the whole system portrayed above, with a flow between components in the
direction Morphology --> Phonology --> Phonetics, the pieces of the system fall
naturally into place. Morphology provides the basic structure of stem +
suffix. Phonology makes various representational adjustments, including Vowel
Insertion, and Phonetics then implements the representations. In this scheme,
Voicing Assimilation, sitting in the phonetic component, never sees the suffix
as adjacent to a too-similar stem-final consonant.
Properties (1) and (2) are clearly English-bound generalizations, to be learned
by the native speaker. Properties (3) and (4) are replicated from language to
language and should therefore be referred to the general capacities of the
learner rather the accidents of English. Notice that we have lived up to our
promise to show that the rules governing the regular past tense are not
idiosyncratic to it: beyond even the phonology discussed above, its intrinsic
phonetic content is shared up to one feature with the other regular nonsyllabic
suffixes; and the rule of inflectional suffixation itself is shared generally
across categories. We have found a highly modular system, in which the mapping
from uninflected stem to the phonetic representation of the past tense form
breaks down into a cascade of independent rule systems, and each rule system
treats its inputs identically regardless of how they were originally created.
Lexical Items
Preservation of Stem and Affix
@ee(
) The replacement Wickelphone (or more properly - Wickelfeature set) @o[i-d#]
has no relation to the stem-final consonant and could just as well be @o[i-z#]
or @o[i-g#]. Thus the RM model cannot explain the prevalence across languages
of inflectional alternations that preserve of stem and affix identities.
Operations on Lexical Items
Lexical Items as the Locus of Idiosyncrasy
The child need not decide whether a verb is regular or irregular.
There is no question as to whether the inflected form should be stored
directly in the lexicon or derived from more general principles.
(PDPII, p. 267)
If Rumelhart and McClelland are right, there can be no homophony between
regular and irregular verbs or between items in distinct irregular classes,
because words are nothing but phone-sequences, and irregular forms are tied
directly to these sequences. This basic empirical claim is transparently false.
Within the strong class itself, there is a contrast between ring (past: rang)
and wring (past: wrung) which are only orthographically distinct. Looking at
the broader population, we find the string lay shared by the items lie (past:
lied) `prevaricate' and lie (past: lay) `assume a recumbent position'. In many
dialects, regular hang refers to a form of execution, strong hang means merely
`suspend'. One verb fit is regular, meaning `adjust'; the other, which refers
to the shape-or-size appropriateness of its subject, can be strong:
@ee< a. That shirt never fit/?fitted me. b. The tailor fitted/*fit me with a
shirt. >
a. He braked the car suddenly. @o[=/] broke
b. He flied out to center field. @o[=/] flew
c. He ringed the city with artillery. *rang
d. Martina 2-setted Chris. *2-set
e. He subletted/sublet the apartment.
f. He sleighed down the hill. *slew
g. He de-flea'd his dog. *de-fled
h. He spitted the pig. *spat
i. He righted the boat. *rote
j. He high-sticked the goalie. *high-stuck
h. He grandstanded to the crowd. *grandstood.
This phenomenon becomes intelligible if we assume that irregularity is a
property of verb roots. Nouns and adjectives by their very nature do not
classify as irregular (or regular) with respect to the past tense, a purely
verbal notion. Making a noun into a verb, which is done quite freely in
English, cannot produce a new verb root, just a new verb. Such verbs can
receive no special treatment and are inflected in accord with the regular
system, regardless of any phonetic resemblance to strong roots.
@ee[
a. He wetted his pants. wet regular in central sense.
b. He wet his pants. wet irregular in extended sense.
c. They heaved the bottle overboard. heave regular in central sense.
d. They hove to. heave irregular in extended sense.
Secondly, the purely semantic or metaphorical aspect of sense extension has no
predictive power whatsoever. Verbs like 'come, go, do, have, set, get, put,
stand...' are magnificently polysemous (and become more so in combination with
particles like 'in, out, up, off'), yet they march in lockstep through the same
nonregular paradigms in central and extended senses -- regardless of how
strained or opaque the metaphor.(Note 2) Similarly, they retain their
nonregular forms when combined with bound affixes that recur in word-formation
patterns in the language, even if the meaning of the whole is not composed of
the meaning of its parts: forget/forgot, forgive/forgave,
understand/understood, undertake/undertook, overcome/overcame (see Aronoff,
1976, for other examples of this kind of phenomenon). But when a verb is
transparently derived from a noun or adjective, the irregular system is
predictably by-passed. The critical factors are lexical category in the formal
sense -- noun, verb, adjective -- and the structural analysis of the word into
entitites such as root, stem, head, prefix. The phenomena of regularity are
governed by processes purely and autonomously morphological.
The Strong System and the Regular System
Assumption #1. "All past tenses are formed by direct phonetic
modification of the stem." We have shown that the regular forms are
derived through affixation followed by phonological and phonetic
adjustment.
These results still leave open the question of disparity between the regular
and strong systems. To resolve it, we need a firmer understanding of how the
strong system works. We will find that the strong system has a number of
distinctive peculiarities which are related to its being a partly structured
list of exceptions. We will examine five:
Hypersimilarity
- arise, awake
The prefixes a-, be-, for-, under-, with- do not carry any particular meaning,
nor in fact do most of the stems. (There is nothing about 'for' and 'get', for
example, that helps us interpret forget.) Their independent existence in other
forms is sufficient to support a sense of compositeness; see Aronoff (1976).
(As mentioned, this demonstrates that morphology as an independent, abstract
component of language).
a. x - [u] - x(o)+n
blow, grow, know, throw
draw, withdraw
fly
??slay
The members of these classes share much more than just a pattern of changes.
In the blow-group (a), for example, the stem-vowel becomes [u] in the past;
this change could in principle apply to all sorts of stems, but in fact the
participating stems are all vowel-final, and all but know begin with a CC
cluster. In the find-group (c) the vowel change [ay] -> [aw] could apply to
any stem in [ay], but it only applies to a few ending in [nd]. The change of
[d] to [t] in (d) occurs only after sonorants [n, l] and mostly when the stem
rhymes in '-end'. Rhyming is also important in (b), where everything ends in
-ake (and the base also begins with a coronal consonant), and in (e), where
-ear has a run.
Prototypicality
@ee<
V: - V - V(+t) keep, sleep, sweep, weep(?weeped/wept), creep(?creeped/crept),
leap(leaped/leapt) feel, deal(?dealed/dealt), kneel(kneeled/?knelt) mean
dream(dreamed/?dreamt) leave lose >
Lexicality
@ee< a. * Last night I forwent the pleasure of grading student papers.
b. You will excuse me if I forgo the pleasure of reading your paper until it's
published. >
Failures of Predictability
(a) I - a@kern[2 points]e - ^
ring, sing, spring
drink, shrink, sink, stink
swim
begin, spin, win
The core members of these related classes end in -ing and -ink. (Bybee &
Slobin note the family-resemblance structure here, whereby the hallmark 'velar
nasal' accommodates mere nasals on the one side (swim, etc.) and mere velars on
the other (stick, dig); the stems run and hang differ from the norm in a vowel
feature or two, as well.) Interestingly, no primitive English monosyllabic
verb root that ends in -ing is regular. Forms like ding, ping, zing, which
show no attraction to class (ING), are tainted by onomatopoetic origins; forms
like ring (surround), king (as in checkers), and wing are obviously derived
from nouns. Thus the -ing class of verbs is the closest we have in English to a
class that can be uniformly and, possibly, productively, inflected with
anything other than the regular ending. Nevertheless, even for this subclass
it is impossible to predict the actual forms from the fact of irregularity:
ring-rang contrasts with wring-wrung; spring-sprang with string-strung; and
bring belongs to an entirely unrelated class. This observation indicates that
learners can pick up the general distinction regular/irregular at some remove
from the particular patterns.
Lack of Phonological Motivation for Morphological Rules
No-Change Verbs
Although ending in [-t, d] is a necessary condition for no-change status, it is
by no means sufficient. First of all, the general constraint of monosyllabism
applies, even though it is irrelevant to degemination. Second, there is a
strong favoritism for the vowels [I] and [@symbol[e]], followed by a single
consonant; again, this is of no conceivable relevance to a truly phonological
process simplifying [td] and [dd] to [t] and [d]. Absent from the class, and
under no attraction to it, are such verbs as bat, chat, pat, scat, as well as
jot, rot, spot, trot, with the wrong sort of vocalism; and dart, fart, smart,
start, thwart, snort, sort, halt, pant, rant, want with nonprototypical vowel
and consonant structure. Even in the core class, we find arbitrary exceptions:
flit, twit, knit are all regular, as are fret, sweat, whet, and some uses of
wet. Beside strong cut and shut, we find regular butt, jut, strut. Beside hurt
we find blurt, spurt; beside burst, we find regular bust. The phonological
constraints on the class far exceed anything relevant to degemination, but in
the end they characterize rather than define the class, just as we have come to
expect.
hit, slit, split, quit, spit(spit/spat), knit(knitted/?knit), ?shit, ??
bid, rid
shed, spread, wed
let, set, upset, ?beset, wet(wetted/wet)
cut, shut
put
burst, cast, cost,
thrust(thrusted/thrust), hurt
Default Structure
Why are the regular and strong systems so different?
How Good is the Model's Performance?
a. squat - squakt
Three other candidates were far off the systematic mark: @ee[
b. mail - membled
c. tour - toureder
d. mate - maded
a. hug - hug
Seven more showed a strong or exclusive tendency to double marking with the
regular past tense morpheme: (later we examine whether children make errors of
this sort):
b. smoke - smoke
c. brown - brawned
a. type - typeded
Note that the model shows an interesting tendency to make ill- advised vowel
changes:
b. step - steppeded
c. snap - snappeded
d. map - mappeded
e. drip - drippeded
f. carp - carpeded
h. smoke - smokeded
a. shape - shipt
Well before it has mastered the richly exemplified regular rule, the
pattern-associator appears to have gained considerable confidence in certain
incorrectly-grasped, sparsely exemplified patterns of feature-change among the
vowels. This implies that a major "induction problem" -- latching onto the
productive patterns and bypassing the spurious ones -- is not being solved
successfully.
b. sip - sept
c. slip - slept
d. brown - brawned
e. mail - membled
On Some Common Objections to Arguments based on Linguistic Evidence
The RM Model and the Facts of Children's Development
Unique and Shared Properties of Networks and Rule Systems
The model works as follows. Imagine its first input pair is speak/spoke. The
changing portion is i --> o. The provisional definition of the class to which
such a rule would apply would be the features of the adjacent consonants, which
we will abbreviate as p_k. Thus the candidate rule coined is (1STRULESa), which
can be glossed as "change i to o for the class of words containing the features
of /p/ before the vowel and containing the features of /k/ after the vowel".
Of course, the candidate rule has such a specific class definition in the
example that it is almost like listing the pair directly. Let us make the
minimal assumptions about the strength function, and simply increase it by 1
every time a rule is exemplified. Thus the strength of this rule candidate is
1. Say the second input is get/got. The resulting rule candidate, with a
strength of 1, is (1STRULESb). A regular input pair, tip/tipped, would yield
(1STRULESc). Similarly, sing/sang would lead to (1STRULESd), and hit/hit would
lead to (1STRULESe), each with unit strength,
a. Change: i --> o
Now we can examine the rule-collapsing process. A second regular input,
walk/walked, would inspire the learner to coin the rule candidate (REGRULEa)
which, because it shares the change operation of rule candidate (1STRULESc),
would be collapsed with it to form a new rule (REGRULEb) of strength 2 (summing
the strengths of its contributing rules, or equivalently, the number of times
it has been exemplified).
Class: p_k
Class: g_t
Class: p#
Class: s_@O[nj]
Class: t#
Class: h_t(Let us assume
that it is unclear to the child at this point whether there is a null vowel
change or a null affix, so both are stored. Actually, we don't think either is
accurate, but it will do for the present example).
a. Suffix: t
Class: k#
The context-collapsing operation has left the symbol "C" (for consonant) and
its three phonological features as the common material in the definitions of
the two previously distinct provisional classes.
a. Suffix: t
Class: s#
Rule candidates based on subregularities would also benefit from the increases
in strength that would result from the multiple input types exemplifying it.
For example, when the pair ring/rang is processed, it would contribute
(INGANGa), which would then be collapsed with (d) to form (INGANGb). Similar
collapsing would strengthen other subregularities as tentative rule candidates,
such as the null affix.
a. Change: i --> a
Class: r_@o[nj]
Though this model is ridiculously simple, one can immediately see that it has
several things in common with the RM model. First, regularities, certain
subregularities, and irregular alternations are extracted, to be entertained as
possible rules, by the same mechanism. Second, mechanisms embodying the
different regularities accrue strength values that are monotonically related to
the number of inputs that exemplify them. Third, the model can generalize to
new inputs that resemble those it has encountered in the past; for example,
tick, which terminates in an unvoiced stop, matches the context of rule (b),
and the rule can add a /t/ to the end of it as a result to form ticked. Fourth,
a new input can match several rules at the same time. For example, bet will
match one rule candidate because it ends in an unvoiced stop and it will match
another because it ends in t. The exact strengths of the competing alternatives
will depend on the strengths of the candidate rules and on the goodness of
match between the stem and the class definitions associated with the
rules.Developmental Phenomena Claimed to Support the Rumelhart-McClelland
Model
The RM model is, as the authors point out, very rich in its empirical
predictions. It is a strong point of their model that it provides accounts for
several independent phenomena, all but one of them unanticipated when the model
was designed. They consider four phenomena in detail: (1) the
U-shaped curve representing the overregularization of strong verbs whose
regular pasts the child had previously used properly; (2) The fact that verbs
ending in t or d (e.g. hit) are regularized less often than other verbs; (3)
The order of acquisition of the different classes of irregular verbs
manifesting different subregularities; (4) The appearance during the course of
development of [past + ed] errors such as ated in addition to [stem + ed]
errors such as eated.
Developmental Sequence of Productive Inflection (The "U"-shaped
curve)
It is by now well-documented that children pass through two stages before
attaining adult competence in handling the past tense in English. In the first
stage, they use a variety of correct past tense forms, both irregular and
regular, and do not readily apply the regular past tense morpheme to nonce
words presented in experimental situations. In the second stage, they apply the
past tense morpheme productively to irregular verbs, yielding
overregularizations such as hitted and breaked for verbs that they may have
used exclusively in their correct forms during the earlier stage. Correct and
overregularized forms coexist for an extended period of time in this stage, and
at some point during that stage, children demonstrate the ability to apply
inflections to nonce forms in experimental settings. Gradually, irregular past
tense forms that the child continues to hear in the input drive out the
overregularized forms he or she has created productively, resulting in the
adult state where a productive rule coexists with exceptions. See Berko (1958),
Brown (1973); Cazden (1968); Ervin (1964); Kuczaj (1977; 1981).
Table 1 and Figure 1 Here
=========================================
Performance with No-Change Verbs
A class of English verbs does not change in form between stem and past: beat,
cut, put, hit, and others. All of these verbs end in a t or d. Bybee and Slobin
(1982) suggest that this is no coincidence. They suggest that learners generate
a schema for the form of past tense verbs on the basis of prevalent regular
forms which states that past tense verbs end in t or d. A verb whose stem
already ends in t or d spuriously appears to have already been inflected for
past tense, and the child is likely to assume that it is a past tense form. As
a result, it can be entered as the past version of the verb in the child's
paradigm, blocking the output of the regular rule. Presumably this tendency
could result in the unchanged verb surviving into adulthood, causing the
no-change verbs to have entered the language at large in some past generation
and to be easily relearned thereafter. We will call this phenomenon
misperception.<Bybee and Slobin do not literally propose that the child
misanalyzes t/d-final verbs as (nonexistent) stems inflected by a rule. Rather,
they postulate a static template which the child matches against unanalyzed
forms during word perception in order to decide whether the forms are in the
past tense or not.>
Frequency of Overregularizing Irregular Verbs in Different
Vowel-Change Subclasses
Bybee and Slobin examined eight different classes of irregular past tense verbs
(see the Appendix for an alternative, more fine-grained taxonomy). Their Class
I contains the no-change verbs we have just discussed. Their Class II contains
verbs that change a final d to t to form the past tense, such as send/sent and
build/built. The other six classes involve vowel changes, and are defined by
Bybee and Slobin as follows:
Bybee and Slobin noted that preschoolers had widely varying tendencies to
overregularize the verbs in these different classes, ranging from 10% to 80% of
the time (see the first column of Table 2). Class IV and III verbs, whose past
tense forms receive a final t/d in addition to their vowel changes, were
overregularized the least; Class VII and V verbs, which have unchanged final
consonants and a vowel change, were overregularized somewhat more often; Class
VI verbs, involving the ing-ang-ung regularity, were regularized more often
than that; and Class VIII verbs, which end in a diphthong sequence which is
changed in the past, were overregularized most often. Bybee and Slobin again
account for this phenomenon by appealing to factors affecting the process of
juxtaposing corresponding present and past forms. They suggest that the
presence of an added t/d facilitates the child's recognition that Class III and
IV past forms are past forms, and that the small percentage of shared segments
between Class VIII present and past versions (e.g., one for see/saw or
know/knew) hinders that recognition process. As the likelihood of successful
juxtaposition of present and past forms decreases, the likelihood of the
regular rule to operate, unblocked by an irregular past form, increases and
overregularizations become more common.
Table 2 Here
=========================================
"Eated" versus "Ated" Errors
The final developmental phenomenon that Rumelhart and McClelland examine is the
tendency of children to produce overregularization errors consisting of an
irregular past affixed with ed, such as ated or broked. Such errors tend to
occur considerably later in development than errors consisting of a base form
affixed with ed, such as eated or breaked (Kuczaj, 1977). Rumelhart and
McClelland compared the strength of eated and ated outputs for the irregular
verbs in their corpus. They found that the strength of the ated form relative
to the eated form increased over the course of training, thus mimicking the
Kuczaj data.
Adam: ranned
tooked
stoled (twice)
broked (participle)
felled
Eve: tored
Sarah: flewed (twice)
caughted
stucked (participle)
Lisa: torned (participle)
tooken (twice) (participle)
sawn (participle)
The participle forms must be interpreted with caution. Because English
irregular participles sometimes consist of the stem plus en (e.g. take - took
- taken) but sometimes consist of the irregular past plus en (e.g. break -
broke - broken), errors like tooken could reflect the child overextending this
regularity to past forms of verbs that actually follow the stem+en pattern; the
actual stem or even the child's mistaken hypothesis about it may play no role.
Adam: I think it's not fulled up to de top.
I think my pockets gonna be all fulled up.
I'm gonna ask Mommy if she has any more grain ... more stuff that she
needs grained. [He has been grinding crackers in a meat grinder
producing what he calls "grain".]
Sarah: Oo, he hahted.
Lisa: I brekked your work.
For Adam, neither vowel alternation is exemplified by any of the irregular
verbs in the Rumelhart-McClelland corpus, but in both cases the stem is
identical to a non-verb that is phonologically and semantically related to the
target verb and hence may have been misconstrued as the base form of the verb
or converted into a new base verb. Sarah's error can be attributed directly to
phonological factors since she also pronounced dirt, involving no morphological
change, as "dawt", according to the transcriber. This leaves Lisa's brekked as
the only putative example; note that unlike her single-subregularity errors
such as bote for bit which lasted for extended periods of time, this appeared
only once, and the correct form broke was very common in her speech.
Furthermore blending is not a likely explanation: among high and middle
frequency verbs, the alternation is found only in say/said and to a lesser
extent in pairs such as sleep/slept and leave/left, whereas in many other
alternations the e sound is mapped onto other vowels (bear/bore, wear/wore,
tear/tore, take/took, and shake/shook). Thus it seems unlikely that the RM
model would produce a blend in this case but not in the countless other
opportunities for blending that the children avoided. Finally, we note that
Lisa was referring to a pile of papers that she scattered, an unlikely example
of breaking but a better one of wrecking, which may have been the target
serving as the real source of the blend (and not a past tense subregularity) if
it was a blend. In sum, except perhaps for this last example under an extremely
charitable interpretation, the apparent blends seem far more suggestive of an
incorrect stem correctly inflected than a blend between two past tense
subregularities.
Summary of How Well the Model Fares Against the Facts of Children's
Development
What general conclusions can we make from our examination of the facts of
children's acquisition of the English past tense form and the ability of the RM
model to account for them? This comparison has brought several issues to light.
General Discussion
Why subject the RM model to such painstaking analysis? Surely few models of any
kind could withstand such scrutiny. We did it for two reasons. First, the
conclusions drawn by Rumelhart and McClelland -- that PDP networks provide
exact accounts of psychological mechanisms that are superior to the approximate
descriptions couched in linguistic rules; that there is no induction problem in
their network model; that the results of their investigation warrant revising
the way in which language is studied -- are bold and revolutionary. Second,
because the model is so explicit and its domain so rich in data, we have an
unusual opportunity to evaluate the Parallel Distributed Processing approach to
cognition in terms of its concrete technical properties rather than bland
generalities or recycled statements of hopes or prejudices.
On Rumelhart and McClelland's Strong Claims about Language
One thing should be clear. Rumelhart and McClelland's PDP model does not differ
from a rule-based theory in providing a more exact account of the facts of
language and language behavior. The situation is exactly the reverse. As far as
the adult steady state is concerned, the network model gives a crude,
inaccurate, and unrevealing description of the very facts that standard
linguistic theories are designed to explain, many of them in classic textbook
cases. As far as children's development is concerned, the model's accounts are
at their best no better than those of a rule-based theory with an equally
explicit learning component, and for two of the four relevant developmental
phenomena, critical empirical tests designed to distinguish the theories work
directly against the RM model's accounts but are perfectly consistent with the
notion that children create and apply rules. Given these empirical failings,
the ontological issue of whether the PDP and rule-based accounts are realist
portrayals of actual mechanisms as opposed to convenient approximate summaries
of higher-order regularities in behavior is rather moot.
Implications for the Metatheory and Methodology of Connectionism
Often the RM model is presented as a paradigm case not only of a new way to
study language, but of a new way to understand what a cognitive theory is a
theory of. In particular, a persistent theme in connectionist metatheory
affirms that 'macro-level' symbolic theories can at best provide an approximate
description of the domain of inquiry; they may be convenient in some
circumstances, the claim goes, but never exact or real:
Subsymbolic models accurately describe the microstructure of
cognition, while symbolic models provide an approximate description of
the macrostructure. (Smolensky, in press, p. 21.)
In such discussions the relationship between Newtonian physics and Quantum
Mechanics typically surfaces as the desired analogy.
... holds that the rules of language are stored in explicit form as
propositions, and are used by language production, comprehension, and
judgment mechanisms. These propositions cannot be described verbally
[by the untutored native speaker]. (Rumelhart and McClelland, PDPII, p.
217).
Their own work is intended to provide "an alternative to explicit inaccessible
rules ... a mechanism in which there is no explicit representation of a rule"
(p. 217). The implication, or invited inference, seems to be that a formal rule
is an eliminable descriptive convenience unless inscribed somewhere and
examined by the neural equivalent of a read-head in the course of linguistic
information processing.
When Does a Network Implement a Rule?
Nonetheless, as we pointed out in the Introduction, it is not a logical
necessity that a cognitive model implement a symbolic rule system, either a
traditional or a revisionist one; the "eliminative" or rule-as-approximation
connectionism that Rumelhart, McClelland, and Smolensky write about (though do
not completely succeed in adhering to in the RM model) is a possible outcome of
the general connectionist program. How could one tell the difference? We
suggest that the crucial notion is the motivation for a network's structure.
Given all of the above [the claim that human cognition and the
behavior of lower animals can be explained in terms of PDP networks],
the question does seem a bit puzzling. ... People have much more
cortex than rats do or even than other primates do; in particular they
have very much more ... brain structure not dedicated to input/output
-- and presumably, this extra cortex is strategically placed in the
brain to subserve just those functions that differentiate people from
rats or even apes. ... But there must be another aspect to the
difference between rats and people as well. This is that the human
environment includes other people and the cultural devices that they
have developed to organize their thinking processes. (p. 143).
We agree completely with one part: that the plausibility of radical
connectionism is tied to the plausibility of this explanation.
On the Properties of Parallel Distributed Processing Models
In our view the more interesting points raised by an examination of the RM
model concern the general adequacy of the PDP mechanisms it uses, for it is
this issue, rather than the metatheoretical ones, that will ultimately have the
most impact on the future of cognitive science. The RM model is just one early
example of a PDP model of language, and Rumelhart and McClelland make it clear
that it has been simplified in many ways thus that there are many paths for
improvement and continued development within the PDP framework. Thus it would
be especially revealing to try to generalize the results of our analysis to the
prospects for PDP models of language in general. Although the past tense rule
is a tiny fragment of knowledge of language, many of its properties that pose
problems for the RM model are found in spades elsewhere. Here we point out some
of the properties of the PDP architecture used in the RM model that seem to
contribute to its difficulties and hence which will pose the most challenging
problems to PDP models of language.
Distributed Representations
PDP models such as RM's rely on `distributed' representations: a large-scale
entity is represented by a pattern of activation over a set of units rather
than by turning on a single unit dedicated to it. This would be a strictly
implementational claim, orthogonal to the differences between connectionist and
symbol-processing theories, were it not for an additional aspect: the units
have semantic content; they stand for (that is, they are turned on in response
to) specific properties of the entity, and the entity is thus represented
solely in terms which of those properties it has. The links in a network
describe strengths of association between properties, not between individuals.
The relation between features and individuals is one-to-many in both
directions: Each individual is described as a collection of many features, and
each feature plays a role in the description of many individuals.
(18) Symbols and Context Dependence.
In the symbolic paradigm, the context of a symbol is manifest around
it, and consists of other symbols; in the subsymbolic paradigm, the
context of a symbol is manifest inside it, and consists of subsymbols.
It is striking, then, that one aspect of distributed representation -- featural
decomposition -- is a well-established tool in every area of linguistic theory,
a branch of inquiry securely located in (perhaps indeed paradigmatic of) the
'symbolic paradigm'. Even more striking, linguistic theory calls on a version
of distributed representation to accomplish the very goals that Hinton, et al
(1986) advert to. Syntactic, morphological, semantic, and phonological entities
are analyzed as feature complexes so that they can be efficiently content-
addressed in linguistic rules; so that generalization can be achieved across
individuals; so that 'new' categories can appear in a system from fresh
combinations of features. Linguistic theory also seeks to make the correct
generalizations inevitable given the representation. One influential attempt,
the `evaluation metric' hypothesis, proposed to measure the optimality of
linguistic rules (specifically phonological rules) in terms of the number of
features they refer to; choosing the most compact grammar would guarantee
maximal generality. Compare in this regard Hinton, et al's (1986) remark about
types and instances:
...the relation between a type and an instance can be implemented by
the relationship between a set of units [features] and a larger set [of
features] that includes it. Notice that the more general the type the
smaller the set of units [features] used to encode it. As the number
of terms in an intensional [featural] description gets smaller, the
corresponding extensional set [of individuals] gets larger. (p. 84)
This echoes exactly Halle's (1957, 1962) observation that the important general
classes of phonemes were among those that could be specified by small sets of
features. In subsequent linguistic work we find thorough and continuing
exploration of a symbol- processing content-addressing automatically-
generalizing rule-theory built, in part, on featural analysis. No
distinction-in-principle between PDP and all that has gone before can be linked
to the presence or absence of featural decomposition (one central aspect of
distributed representation) as the key desideratum. Features analyze the
structure of paradigms -- the way individuals contrast with comparable
individuals -- and any theory, macro, micro, or mini, that deals with complex
entities can use them.
People are good at generalizing newly acquired knowledge. ... If, for
example, you learn that chimpanzees like onions you will probably raise
your estimate of the probability that gorillas like onions. In a
network that uses distributed representations, this kind of
generalization is automatic. The new knowledge about chimpanzees is
incorporated by modifying some of the connection strengths so as to
alter the causal effects of the distributed pattern of activity that
represents chimpanzees. The modification automatically change the
causal effects of all similar activity patterns. So if the
representation of gorillas is a similar activity pattern over the same
set of units, its causal effects will be changed in a similar way. (p.
82)
This venerable associationist hypothesis about inductive reasoning has been
convincingly discredited by contemporary research in cognitive psychology.
People's inductive generalizations are not automatic responses to similarity
(in any non-question-begging sense of similarity); they depend on the
reasoner's unconscious "theory" of the domain, and on any theory-relevant fact
about the domain acquired through any route whatsoever (communicated verbally,
acquired in a single exposure, inferred through circuitous means, etc.), in a
way that can completely override similarity relations (Carey, 1985; de Jong &
Mooney, 1986; Gelman & Markman, 1986; Keil, 1986; Osherson, Smith, and Shafir,
1986; Pazzani, 1987). To take one example, knowledge of how a set of perceptual
features was caused, or knowledge of the "kind" that an individual is an
example of, can override any generalizations inspired by the object's features
themselves: for example, an animal that looks exactly like a skunk will
nonetheless be treated as a raccoon if one is told that the stripe was painted
onto an animal that had raccoon parents and raccoon babies (see Keil, 1986; who
demonstrates that this phenomenon occurs in children and is not the result of
formal schooling). Similarly, even a basketball ignoramus will not be seduced
by the similarity relations holding among the typical starting players of the
Boston Celtics and those holding among the starting players of the Los Angeles
Lakers, and thus will not be tempted to predict that a yellow-shirted blond
player entering the game will run to the Celtics' basket when he gets the ball
just because all previous blond players did so. (Hair color, nonetheless, might
be used in qualitatively different generalizations, such as which players will
be selected to endorse hair care products). The example, from Pazzani and Dyer
(1987), is one of many that have led to artificial intelligence systems based
on "explanation-based learning" which has greater usefulness and greater
fidelity to people's common-sense reasoning that the "similarity-based
learning" that Hinton, et al's example system performs automatically (see,
e.g., de Jong & Mooney, 1986). Osherson, et al (1987), also analyze the use of
similarity as a basis for generalization and show its inherent problems; Gelman
and Markman (1986) show how preschool children shelve similarity relations when
making inductive generalizations about natural kinds.
Distinctions among Subcomponents and Abstract Internal
Representations
The RM model collapses into a single input-output module a mapping that in
rule-based accounts is a composition of several distinct subcomponents feeding
information into one another, such as derivational morphology and inflectional
morphology, or inflectional morphology and phonology. This, of course, is what
gives it its radical look. If the subcomponents of a traditional account were
kept distinct in a PDP model, mapping onto distinct subnetworks or pools of
units with their own inputs and outputs, or onto distinct layers of a
multilayer network, one would naturally say that the network simply implemented
the traditional account. But it is just the factors that differentiate
Rumelhart and McClelland's collapsed one-box model from the traditional
accounts that causes it to fail so noticeably.
Discrete, Categorical Rules
Despite the graded and frequency-sensitive responses made by children and by
adults in their speech errors and analogical extensions in parts of the strong
verb system, many aspects of knowledge of language result in categorical
judgments of ungrammaticality. This fact is difficult to reconcile with any
mechanism that at asymptote leaves a number of candidates at suprathreshold
strength and allows them to compete probabilistically for expression (Bowerman,
1987, also makes this point). In the present case, adult speakers assign a
single past tense form to words they represent as being "regular" even if
subregularities bring several candidates to mind (e.g.
brought/*brang/*bringed); and subregularities that may have been partially
productive in childhood are barred from generating past tense forms when verbs
are derived from other syntactic categories (e.g. *pang; *high-stuck) or are
registered as being distinct lexical items from those exemplifying
subregularities (e.g. *I broke the car). Categorical judgments of
ungrammaticality is a common (though not all-pervasive) property of linguistic
judgments of novel words and strings, and cannot be predicted by semantic
interpretability or any prior measure or "similarity" to known words or strings
(e.g. *I put; *The child seems sleeping; *What did you see something?).
Obviously PDP models can display categorical judgments by various kinds of
sharpening and threshold circuits; the question is whether models can be built
-- other than by implementing standard symbolic theories -- in which the
quantitatively strongest output prior to the sharpening circuit invariably
corresponds to the unique qualitatively appropriate response.
Unconstrained Correlation Extraction
It is often considered a virtue of PDP models that they are powerful learners;
virtually any amount of statistical correlation among features in a set of
inputs can be soaked up by the weights on the dense set of interconnections
among units. But this property is a liability if human learners are more
constrained. In the case of the RM model, we saw how it can acquire rules that
are not found in any language such as nonlocal conditioning of phonological
changes or mirror-reversal of phonetic strings. This problem would get even
worse if the set of feature units was expanded to represent other kinds of
information in an attempt to distinguish homophonous or phonologically similar
forms. The model also exploits subregularities (such as those of the irregular
classes) that adults at best do not exploit productively (slip/*slept and
peep/*pept) and at worst are completely oblivious to (e.g. lexical causatives
like sit/set - lie/lay -- fall/fell -- rise/raise, which are never generalized
to cry/*cray). The types of inflection found across human languages involves a
highly constrained subset of the logically possible semantic features, feature
combinations, phonological alterations, items admitting of inflection, and
agreement relations (Bybee, 1985; Talmy, 1985). For example, to represent the
literal meanings of the verbs brake and break the notion of a man-made
mechanical device is relevant, but no language has different past tenses or
plurals for a distinction between man-made versus natural objects, despite the
cognitive salience of that notion. And the constrained nature of the variation
in other components of language such as syntax has been the dominant theme of
linguistic investigations for a quarter of a century (e.g. Chomsky, 1981).
These constraints are facts that any theory of language acquisition must be
able to account for; a model that can learn all possible degrees of correlation
among a set of features is not a model of the human being.
Can the Model be Recast Using More Powerful PDP Mechanisms?
The most natural response of a PDP theorist to our criticisms would be to
retreat from the claim that the RM model in its current form is to be taken as
a literal model of inflection acquisition. The RM model uses some of the
simplest of the devices in the PDP armamentarium, devices that PDP theorists in
general have been moving away from. Perhaps it is the limitations of these
simplest PDP devices -- two-layer pattern association networks -- that cause
problems for the RM model, and these problems would all diminish if more
sophisticated kinds of PDP networks were used. Thus the claim that PDP networks
rather than rules provide an exact and detailed account of language would
survive.
References
Anderson, J. A. & Hinton, G. E. (1981) Models of information processing in the
brain. In G. E. Hinton & J. A. Anderson (Eds.), Parallel models of
associative memory. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Table 1:
Proportion of Children's Verbs that Have Regular Past Tense Forms
Stage
__________________________________________________________
1-Word I II III IV V
__________________________________________________________
Adam --- .45(31) .43(44) .55(83) .46(83) .54(78)
*
Eve --- .55(31) .51(49) .45(53) .48(58) .44(45)
*
Sarah --- .61(18) .37(49) .52(44) .43(58) .51(84)
*
Lisa .53(53) --- --- --- --- ---
__________________________________________________________________________
Mean for
Adam, Eve, & Sarah .54 .44 .51 .46 .50
Size of verb vocabulary is listed in parentheses.
An asterisk indicates the stage at which the child began overregularizing.
Table 2:
Ranks of Tendencies to Overregularize Irregular Verbs involving Vowel Shifts
Children RM RM RM RM Avg Freq o
* 1st set 2nd set 3rd set Average Vowel Shif
______________________________________________________________
Verb Subclass
_____________
VIII blow/blew 1 (.80) 1 1 1 1 1 (1.6)
VI sing/sang 2 (.55) 4 4 4 4 3 (2.7)
V bite/bit 3 (.34) 2 3 6 3 5 (3.9)
VII break/broke 4 (.32) 3 6 3 6 2 (2.1)
III feel/felt 5 (.13) 6 5 5 5 4 (3.8)
IV seek/sought 6 (.10) 5 2 2 2 6 (4.5)
_______________________________________________________________________________
Rank Order Correlation
With Children's
Proportions .77 .31 .14 .31 .71
* Actual proportions of regularizations by children are in parentheses.
** Mean number of verbs in the irregular corpus exemplifying the vowel shifts
within a class are indicated in parentheses.
Appendix: English Strong Verbs
Here we provide, for the reader's convenience, an informally classified listing
of all the strong verbs that we recognize in our own vocabulary (thus we omit,
for example, Rumelhart and McClelland's drag-drug). The notation ?Verb means
that we regard Verb as somewhat less than usual, particularly as a strong form
in the class where it's listed. The notation ??Verb means that we regard Verb
as obsolete (particularly in the past) but recognizable, the kind of thing one
picks up from reading. The notation (+) means that the verb, in our judgment,
admits a regular form. Notice that obsolescence does not imply
regularizability: a few verbs simply seem to lack a usable past tense or past
participle. We have found that judgments differ from dialect to dialect, with
a cline of willingness-to-regularize running up from British English
(south-of-London) to Canadian (Montreal) to American (general). When in doubt,
we've taken the American way.
I. T/D Superclass
1. T/D + @o[0/]
bid(As in poker, bridge, or defense contracts.), rid, ?forbid
shed, spread, wed(+)(The adjective is only wedded.)
let, set, beset(Mainly an adjective.), upset, wet(+)
cut, shut
put
burst, cast, cost, thrust (+)
hurt
meet
hide (en), slide
bite (en), light(+), alight(+!)
shoot
?spill, ??spoil
build
deal, feel, ?kneel(+)
mean
?dream
creep, keep, leap(+), sleep, sweep(+), weep
leave
say
hear
make
II. E-0 ablaut class
1. i/@symbol[e - o/O - o/O+n]
choose
III. I - a@kern[2 pointse/^ - ^ Group]
1. I - a@Kern[2 pointse - ^]
drink, shrink, sink, stink
swim
begin
stick
dig
win, spin
?stink, ?slink
hang, strike(Stricken as participle as in 'from the record', otherwise as an ad
?sneak (cf. I - ^ - ^)
IV. Residual Clusters
?stride
??thrive
V. Miscellaneous
go, forgo, undergo
hold, behold (cf. tell-told)
come, become
beat
see (possibly satellite of blow-class)
give, forgive
forbid, ??bid(As in 'ask or command to'. The past bade is very peculiar,
bidded is impossible, and the past participle is obscure, though certainly
not bidden.)
stand, understand, withstand (possibly satellite of I - ^ - ^ class)
lie
A Remark. A number of strong participial forms survive only as adjectives
(most, indeed, somewhat unusual): cleft, cloven, girt, gilt, hewn, pent,
bereft, shod, wrought, laden, mown, sodden, clad, shaven, drunken, (mis)shapen.
The verb crow admits a strong form only in the phrase the cock crew; notice
that the rooster crew is distinctly peculiar and Melvin crew over his victory
is unintelligible. Other putative strong forms like leant, clove, abode,
durst, chid, and sawn seem to us to belong to another language.
NOTES