Fluent bilinguists - are you the same person when you *think* in different languages?

OK, it might seem like a really stupid and naive question, but I find that sometimes, those sorts of questions have quite interesting answers, so please indulge me a moment…

Given (the unsupported assertions*) that:
-The human brain could be thought of as a machine capable of hosting the processes/properties of thought, intelligence and self.
-Learning language is a fundamental part of a developing sense of self and process of cognition
-Learning a second language to the point that you have assimilated it and can think fluently in that language is somewhat like learning a first language.

I propose the hypothesis that bilingual persons, particularly those that have acquired their additional languages after childhood, might be somewhat of a patchwork of (obviously heavily overlapping) different personalities or senses of ‘self’… so…

For those of you who can think fluently in more than one language (as opposed to consciously translating on the fly), are you ever aware of any personality traits within yourself that are manifest only when you’re using a specific language - this might include prejudices, preferences, mannerisms(except those that are provoked by the language itself, such as, perhaps, the Gallic shrug), modes of thinking, aptitudes to certain tasks, etc?

Are you always exactly the same person when you think in different languages?

ETA footnotes:
*We could discuss these assertions and their validity elsewhere - for the purposes of this thread, it’s not entirely relevant if they’re completely accurate or not, because we’re testing the hypothesis in a different way.

Yes and no. It’s not a Dr. jeckle and Mr. Hyde transformation. However, I’m definately a different person in Chinese than in English. I use different mannerisms, way of speaking, word choice, etc. When I speak Chinese, I think in Chinese (I don’t translate from English to Chinese).

I dunno, maybe it’s like being a sibling. Close but not the same?

I don’t think I’m any different in Hebrew than in English. I may be a bad example because I picked up both languages as a young child (before the age of 5), so I’m not sure it counts.

Interesting data point, maybe: I am often capable of reconstructing what I thought, or some idea I read, but not which language the thought/paper was in. In other words, I assimilate ideas as “language-less”, as least to a point.

When my wife get’s very angry its not uncommon for her to start swearing or mixing French with English. Like when she is concentrating on something special and then makes a mistake she’ll often say under her breath…“Merde” it’s so slight and cute I usually laugh or just smile ot myself.

She will often say that she speaks English and dreams with French Subtitles. She has no accent in English at all, and one of the best examples of French Folly was when we were in Nice and eating at a small village cafe. We (read I) looked like a bunch of dumb Americans coming into a village to try and order off the menu. The garcon came to the table and said in French “Grand Américain de sein - ce qui peut j’obtenir pour vous…” or something to that effect.

My wife stood up and and angrily yelled at the man in perfect French. Our meals were very good after this, and eventually, she and the garcon had a good laugh…but only after he had his ass handed to him on a plate.[sub]with french subtitles[/sub] :slight_smile:

I’m not bilingual in two human languages, but I’m “fluent” in several programming languages, and when you acheive a certain level of fluency, you can cease thinking in English about every step and think abstractly in terms of the computer language. I can also think abstractly about geometry and wargames without having to translate my thoughts into English.

I’m not a different person when I’m not thinking in English, I don’t see why I should be one if I am thinking in a language that people do use to communicate with each other.

Can’t help wondering if there might have been just a hint of ass on the plates he was handing you too, or if not, ass, saliva, or something.

I tend to gesture a LOT more when I’m speaking Esperanto than when I’m speaking English. I have no idea where that came from. (I’m not fluent enough in French to know what my mannerisms there will be yet.)

Yes, I do this as well. I think my thought process are basically visual, so often I imagine something, and then choose what language to describe it in.

I’m pretty much the same person, although I curse unreservedly in French. In English I hold back a lot more. I live in French at home, and about 50-50 at work. I learned my second language too late in life for it to have much impact on my personality. Isn’t your personality sewn up pretty tightly by the time you’re seven? I can affect a different personailty if I want to, or if I think it’s necessary, but it’s an act, really.

One of my roommates, who was fluent in several languages, used to say “I am as many people as the languages I speak.” It always had the air of a proverb or saying, from one of those languages.

Unfortunately, I wouldn’t know. Despite years of study of Latin, Polish, Spanish, and Japanese, I have yet to achieve fluency in any language besides English. (And maybe not even that.) So I’m only One Person.

I do have slightly different personalities depending on the language I’m using. When I speak in English, my voice tends to be lower and more even, I curse a fair amount, and I tend to be drier and more sarcastic. When I speak in Korean, I speak in a higher tone (I sound more girly, actually), I don’t curse at all, and I tend to be more exaggerated in my gestures and voice tone. Probably has to do with cultural differences - there’s still a pretty strong sexist image of what it means to be feminine in Korea.

Look up the Safir-Whorf hypothesis for some interesting discussion about this kind of thing. Most psycholinguists and acquisitionists tend to conclude that it’s extremely unlikely that a person’s language fundamentally effects the way they percieve the world, but it’s also extremely hard to prove things one way or another.

Also, just as a technical quibble (so feel free to ignore this paragraph), learning a second or third language to complete fluency after the age of 5-7 isn’t going to make you a “true” bilingual, since primary and secondary language acquisition are very likely completely different processes when you get down to the neural circuitry involved.

An easy way to argue this is to look at the manner in which people learn natural languages. Basically, while learning a language (and, for our present purposes, I’m going to claim that learning a language simply involves learning its grammars: syntax, semantics, phonology, the whole deal) while completely immersed in it (as is the case with infants), there are two possible types of evidence that can be presented to you: positive evidence, which provides information about what is grammatical, and negative evidence, which provides information about what is not grammatical.

Now that you’re armed with these two definitions, it’s easy to claim that adults and children learn differently. So here’s what I would propose: first off, I think most of us can agree that all newborns start with the same information about the grammar: some people claim kids start with nothing, others claim they start with a heavily coded input layer that allows felicitous structure to be processed sequentially, and a lot of people claim that they simply restrict the possible set of starting structures. That last idea ultimately ties into Universal Grammar, or UG. But none of that really matters: for our purposes, let’s just say that all kids start with the same roadmap, which we’ll call the initial state, or S(0). Hopefully they’ll eventually end up in the final state, s(n), at which point they should be roughly homogenous with their speech community. Now, obviously this isn’t 100% accurate: dialectal differences, register contrasts, and a whole host of individual variation is to be expected. Really, it’s something that always amazes me: given the sheer breadth and depth of variation we see in human speech, people still manage to identify and catalogue systematic modulation well enough to create a homogenous speech community. (On a tangent, think about what would happen if you were to drive from village to village from, let’s say, the center of France to the center of Italy. I can almost guarantee that every village will be comprised of a homogenous speech community, and yet the villages just to each side of the border will be much better at communicating with each other than two villages pulled from the far corners of each country. And that’s just cool.)

But anyway, you see what I’m getting at: it’s logical to expect that newborns should all start with the same lingual capacity, namely the initial state, and that all children who’ve grown up in the same speech community should end up with the same final state. How can we prove this? We can prove it by looking at grammatical intuition. If you’re a native English speaker, you should (hopefully!) have an inate sense of what is and isn’t felicitous in English. If I say “Dog ran the” and “The dog ran,” most native speakers will instantly know that the former is ungrammatical, and the latter grammatical. Note that I’m not talking about the grammar you learned in school here: that’s prescriptive, and it’s purely intellectual. What I’m talking about is what a well-schooled grammarian and someone who has never taken an english course in their life both understand in the same capacity, assuming they’re both native speakers. And of course there exists regional variation in grammar, but anyone who has grown up with a certain dialect should ideally display homogenous intuition.

So we’re looking at how all babies get from the same start point to the same end point. And in the name of being brief, they do so with what’s called Text Learning: essentially, they do it without any negative evidence whatsoever. (You can test this on your own with a 1.5-2 year old, if you’re feeling extremely patient.)

Adults, on the other hand, are the exact opposite: they absolutely thrive on negative evidence, and are substantially better than children at what’s called Informant Learning, which is a process of acquisition based entirely on negative evidence.

Now, logically you would assume that negative evidence is essential for anyone, since with an infinite number of possible utterances (which there always are; languages are always infinte and recursive), we would predict that children, deprived of any negative evidence, would frequently produce novel forms that fall outside the bounds of the (extremely limited!) parameters that a given language finds grammatical. A very well-known theorem to this effect reads “Only languages of finite cardinality are text learnable”.

So if this is true, why is it that infants, as text learners, can go from an initial state to a quasi-homogenous final state soley on the basis of positive evidence?

Universal grammar! I’m not convinced UG in its present state is anything close to what actually happens in the brain, but it’s a really great theory speaking from a mathematical point of view.

So anyway, if anyone’s actually still reading I hope the meandering talk about adult versus child acquistion drove home the on real thing I had to say, which is this: despite surface similarities, the manner in which adults and children learn languages are almost polar opposites. Since they aren’t identical, we can’t possibly expect adult learners of a language to exhibit the same neurolinguistic tendancies that children do. :slight_smile:

I tried to keep this brief… if anyone wants me to elaborate on something, feel free to ask!

My thoughts exactly, but it was an open Bistro, and we could see the food being prepared. Thank Og!

Hmmm… I think I agree with that. Israel is a thoroughly “Westernized” society, so I’m really acting the same roles in those social settings in which I speak Hebrew and those in which I speak English. Hence, the same person. I can imagine I would possibly act differently according to language spoken if there was an instinctive link between different languages and different cultures.

“Are you always exactly the same person when you think in different languages?”

I speak therefore I am?
I remember when I was living for a year in Australia that I woke up from a dream hearing my mother speak in english to me. That was when I realised I had stopped thinking in norwegian and was now utterly thinking in english.

But in retrospect I don’t think I changed personality. The only change was that I probably swore much more, but thats behaving like a bloody aussie for you.

So to answer the question, yes, I am the same person. Maybe because culturally there is not much difference? I did not have to behave differently to fit in. If I were to learn italian or french I might have to behave accordingly: be more hotheaded, wave my arms around more when speaking, embrace every thought more passionately, slurp when I eat (no wait, I do that already :eek: ).

I do the same thing, too–whenever I’m really mad I start talking (and swearing) in French. (It reminds me of the Merovingian’s line from The Matrix Reloaded: “I have sampled every language, French is my favorite. Fantastic language. Especially to curse with. Nom de dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperie de connard d’enculé de ta mère. It’s like wiping your arse with silk. I love it.”)

I think I’m probably an angrier person in French, by that account. Also, weirdly, more polite when I’m conversing with someone.

I think it’s her Québécois (sp?) roots -she is very much the same.

I’m arguably fluently trilingual (although the German is starting to go)
I’m the same person, but tend to be more direct in Dutch and German. I believe that is because of the circumstances wherein I speak those two languages, rather than the languages themselves.
What is scary is that most of the memories of my childhood and adolescence are now in English, including conversations that couldn’t possibly have been held in anything but Dutch or German. Yet I could swear I remember turns of phrase and everything.

I don’t believe I’m a different person when I speak (and think) in French and when I speak (and think) in English. However, these days, I mostly read in English and talk in French, so it’s hard to compare, but even when I spoke both languages more often, I don’t remember seeing a very large difference. I’ll keep that in mind.

I guess I could also be said to be fluent in Mathematics, but that’s solely a written script, at least to me. I think in French (or English) when I read or write Mathematics.

True enough. I know a bit of Spanish, although I’m far from fluent, and when I try to speak in Spanish in my head, and there’s a word I can’t find, it’s usually the English word that comes to me. It’s as if my brain classifies them both as “second languages”.

I know that used to be true, but is it still the case? It seems to me that nationalism and standardized schooling in each country have made residents of the periphery much more similar to residents of the centre than they used to be. I guess people at the border of France and Italy must be using more loanwords from the other language (or in this particular case, their language might be reminiscent of Occitan or Francoprovençal), but I’m quite certain that people in Nice speak French. (Actually, I shouldn’t comment too much on Italy since it is a rather different case, with its late unification and persistence of the regional dialects.)

I am finally fluent in Dutch and English; but I am not bilingual. I heard my first word of Dutch after the age of 30 so I don’t expect I ever will be. I speak a couple of other languages proficiently but I wouldn’t say fluently.

I think, to begin with, that everyone is a patchwork of (obviously heavily overlapping) different personalities or senses of ‘self’". I think it’s the human condition. It’s why my spouse can calmly stitch up his hysterical brother after a sailing injury but be unable to donate blood because he is one of the fabled ones who literally keels over. Just for instance.

I also think that the degree to which people’s way of expression in a late-acquired language is different from their way of expression in their mother language depends upon their sensitivity to the other part of communication, which is nonverbal. I am indeed in Dutch more likely to be direct, even blunt, in my language; but I am just as tactful in Dutch as in English. (Or as not-tactful, but I find I become kinder as I grow older.) The Dutch in general regard indirect langauge as evasive and untrustworthy; but direct language which fails to mention certain things passes under the radar. The same sentences uttered in English in America would be regarded as rude. The Dutch in general do not bring up their profession or work in social conversation unless they are bragging in some way; Americans often open with it.

Anyway, the key is that language is not a one way street. What you express is not all about you, even when you are the subject. It’s a process of continuous feedback and so you do find that certain ways of expressing things become more common and other ways are deemphasized, based on that feedback. The same is true of gestures and inflection and intonation and a host of other things. How sensitive any individual is to the non-word part of language, the music of it if you like, varies very widely. But that doesn’t change who that person is, it seems to me. I think we are all greater and more complex than our ability to express ourselves can encompass – because by saying this, we have chosen not to say that, even though this and that can be simultaneously true.

Isosleepy, this:

Is something my children, who are bilingual, do and describe pretty often. It is almost as though people who were bilingual as children recieve language in a third, nonlanguage way and then re-express it in whichever language they are speaking at the moment. Complete with expressions and idiom which are not the same in the two languages. For instance, I said something to Eldest in English about having “too much on my plate” and he repeated it to his father later in Dutch as (translated) my having said that I had “too much hay on my fork” which is pretty much the equivalent expression in Dutch. He had to stop and think a minute when my husband asked him to identify which language he had heard it in. And they frequently sing songs they have learned in one language in the other, in the way little kids have of singing to themselves, and their off the cuff renderings of the lyrics are a hoot.

Given how long I’ve been out of practice it’s been quite a while since I could claim anything like fluency in Spanish, but back when I was a senior in high school (therefore 4th year in Spanish) I had Spanish as my final class of the day. And then, upon starting my homework for other classes, I’d occasionally realize half-way through that I’d been doing it in the wrong language. Apparently at some points I: A. thought in Spanish B. didn’t notice!