Using Language to Solve Crimes

A new nonfiction spy thriller featured on NPR, The Spy Who Couldn't Spell, caught my attention. Two of my favorite topics — spies and language— are part of the title.  The complete title, The Spy Who Couldn't Spell:  A Dyslexic Traitor, an Unbreakable Code, and the FBI's Hunt for America's Stolen Secrets, by Yudhijit Bhattacharjee, reveals the main themes of the book. 

Brian Regan, the spy in the new book, worked for the National Reconnaissance Office in the early years of this century, managing information on the US spy satellite system.  For various personal and professional reasons, he decided to sell US military secrets to a foreign country.  He was arrested two weeks before the events of 9/11, which probably accounts for the fact that his story did not reach the general public at the time of his arrest.

The narrative of how Brian Regan attempted to carry out espionage will probably be enough to encourage me to read the book.  But the clues that the FBI put together to identify him will be especially intriguing.  Beginning with my early reading of Agatha Christie mystery novels, with their carefully crafted clues and intricate plots, I have always loved a good puzzle.

It was a well-know fact that Brian Regan was dyslexic, a general term for a problem processing language in the brain.  (Dyslexia is not related to general intelligence.) 

Dyslexia shows itself in different forms in different individuals and in varying degrees of severity, but in Regan's case, the dyslexia caused him to be a very poor speller. The spelling errors were one of the clues leading to his capture. An article in The Guardian, October 26, 2016, lists some of the misspellings:  anonmus, alligations, reveil, precausion, and negotianalable.

This connection between criminal investigations and language issues reminds me of the usefulness of Forensic Linguistics, a field of applied linguistics. Forensic linguists apply linguistic knowledge to, among other areas of law, crime investigation. The premise used is that language varies at the level of the individual, causing each of us to have our own "idolect," or particular pattern of use. These patterns may include the vocabulary we choose, which words we use together, how we pronounce words, our spelling, and our grammar usage.

An online guest post by John Olsson of the Forensic Linguistics Institute (click here for more information) sheds further light on the field of Forensic Linguistics. Mr. Olsson notes that the field of Forensic Linguistics is relative new, making a serious appearance in courts in the 1990s.  He lists various type of language analysis he has done in crime investigations:  plagiarism analysis, suicide notes, hate mail, product contamination, insurance fraud, forgery, and mobile phone texts. 

Using language to solve crimes is yet another indication of how language, often taken for granted, plays a vital role in our lives.  In these days of concerns about privacy, have you ever thought about what your language may reveal about you?  Scary, huh?        

 

The Perils of Counting in Other Languages

"Can you count from one to ten in ______ (fill in the language)?"  Counting in another language is one proof for the world that we are acquiring another language.  But is expressing numbers in another language as simple as memorizing new vocabulary words for 1-10?  Of course not!  Few things having to do with language are simple!

Most beginning lessons of a foreign language course include the labels for numbers 1-10.  A few chapters later, the textbook writers think you are ready for the complexities of 11-100.  And here is where the fun begins.  It is interesting to note that Duolingo, my favorite on-line language learning program, does not include numbers as one of the first topics in their language tree.  And I agree that numbers, like all vocabulary, should be acquired gradually, and in context.

First, let's talk about what it takes to master foreign language numbers. Number concepts in a foreign language are notoriously hard to internalize.  It may be that we only truly learn to count once in our lives, and that is in our native language. I consider myself fairly fluent in Spanish, but I still have to take an extra second or two to translate a Spanish number, like sesenta y seis, into the concept of 66. I have often witnessed Spanish-English bilinguals speaking in English who make a temporary switch to Spanish when counting objects or people.

And do we really need to know numbers in a second language?  Yes, for activities such as counting, doing math, telling time, or giving phone numbers and addresses.  But how often do we have to write numbers rather than understand or speak them?  Not so often.  Check writing comes to mind, which is becoming somewhat archaic.  Formal wedding invitations, which may also be going by the wayside. Most of our use of numbers will be in communicating orally in a new language.

To further understand numbers in other languages, I made a comparison chart of 1-100 in my native language, English (Germanic family), Spanish, Portuguese, French (Latin family), Irish and Welsh (Celtic family).  Here is a sampling of what I discovered.

In all these languages, 1-10 are the building blocks of the numbering system, so, yes indeed, they will have to be learned. The teen numbers in English and the Latin-based languages must still be learned individually, although most contain a hint of their meaning (thirteen, trece, treze, and treize all remind us of the concept of three, for example).

To form the numbers from 20-100, basic arithmetic skills are required.  Since we are working on a decimal system, all these languages have a word for intervals of ten, but there are some differences to note.  English, Spanish and Portuguese have separate words (often easily recognizable) for 20, 30, etc., to which the numbers from 1-10 are added.  Examples are thirty-one in English and trinta e um in Portuguese.

French adds a bit of challenge by having separate numbers for 20, 30, 40, 50 and 60 but then expressing 70 as 60 + 10 (soixante-dix),  80 as 4 x 20 (quatre-vingts), and 90 as 80 + 10 (quatre-vingt-dix).  The need for math skills continues as 71 becomes 60 + 11 (soixante-onze).  Whew! I may need a calculator on my next visit to Canada!

I thought the Celtic languages, Irish and Welsh, were going to have me as flummoxed as the sound systems of these languages, but I discovered a comforting regularity in the numbering systems. (I ignored for the time being that Irish has three numbering systems, used in different contexts, and that Welsh has masculine and feminine number forms.) 

Counting in Irish is a matter of learning 1-10 and adding déag/dhéag for the teens (13 is a tri déag). As in English, labels have to be learned for 20, 30, etc.  Then numbers 1-10 follow.  ( 20 + 1 is fiche a haon).

The key word for numbering in Welsh is deg (10)   20 is a logical 2 x 10 (dau ddeg), with the pattern holding for 30-90.  And 22 is a logical 2 x 10 + 1 (dau ddeg un).

The number 100 (one hundred) is very different in English only.  Here is how to say 100 in the other languages we are discussing.

Spanish - cien
Portuguese - cem
French - cent
Irish - céad
Welsh - cant

And the worst part of the matter is, even if I learned to sing the song, "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall," in any of the languages besides my native language, I would still have some complex thinking to do. Maybe I can start counting sheep in other languages on sleepless nights for a little extra number practice?