Over on his blog, Chris Collins has a new post on the difference between what he calls the “Standard Paradigm for Syntactic Research” and the “Foundational Paradigm for Syntactic Research.” In it, he identifies a sociological phenomenon within generative syntax—there is a general apathy towards “foundational” work in the field—and suggests four explanations for it. I mostly agree with what he writes, but I wanted to highlight and deepen one of his explanations and add another to the mix.

Collins’ first explanation is as follows (emphasis mine):

[F]oundational work takes a lot of time and effort, and the payoff is uncertain. The question is what counts as progress. You may think for years and years about the ‘copy versus repetition’ distinction or about the definition of c-command or about the nature of workspaces without resolving the issues, even though in the end you have a much deeper understanding. Does that count as progress? Can you write it up and publish it? Does it count as currency in the academic monetary system?

I would posit that almost any “non-foundational” work can yield some sort of result, be that a new generalization, new data, or maybe a new synthesis of data, whereas “foundational” work does sometimes end in blind alleys with little to show for it. While this difference is important when measured in papers, posters, and talks, its also important when measured in money.

In most of the global north, public funding for the science, social science, the humanities, and the arts is distributed by members of the particular fields, ostensibly on an apolitical basis. Yet for almost as long as modern states have been funding science, social science, the humanities, and the arts there has been a faction within those states that have categorically opposed it. And one of the favoured rhetorical tactics of that faction is to trot out obscure studies that seem frivolous out of context and ask disingenuously “You think this is a good thing to fund??”

It is difficult to believe that anyone on a grant committee is not aware of this possibility, and has in the back of their mind “how would I explain giving this grant to a ‘foundational’ project that may yeild nothing?”

The explanation I’d add to Collins’ is a psychological one. What he calls “foundational” work in syntactic theory is theoretical work while “non-foundational” work in syntactic theory is actually empirical/analytical/experimental work, not theoretical work (cf Chametzky 1996). Most syntacticians doing pen-and-paper analysis, then, consider they’re work to be theoretical syntax—they see themselves as theoretical syntacticians. So when they encounter “foundational” work (i.e., theoretical work) it evokes some cognitive dissonance (“I know theoretical syntax, and this is supposed to be theoretical syntax, but I can’t follow it, or I don’t see the point.”) which often leads to hostile reactions. Indeed, suggesting to someone they’re not doing theoretical work is often taken as an insult due to the esteem given to “theoretical work.”

I’ve arrived at this explanation because, when I was in grad school I experienced the same cognitive dissonance form the other side. I was always interested in “foundational” syntactic theory, but found I couldn’t do or get excited about the the “theoretical” work that my syntax colleagues were doing. I simply don’t have the mind for the empirical details. The natural response to this was impostor’s syndrome, until I realized that what we’d been calling “theoretical syntax” was actually two very different research paradigms, and that the work that I couldn’t do, was a different type of work. This saved my self-esteem, but still left me with the understanding that there was a ceiling on my academic career, not because of my skills, but because of the state of the field.