‘In Science, You Are Your Own Boss’

Polina Nasledskova is interested in identifying gaps in linguistics and topics that have been overlooked by other researchers. In an interview for the Young Scientists of HSE University project, she spoke about rare ordinal numerals in Nakh-Daghestanian languages, the benefits of knitting for concentration, and the beauty of the Patriarshy Bridge.

How I Started in Science

I became interested in linguistics quite early: I solved my first linguistic problem in Year 4 or Year 5 at school. At the time, my parents thought that linguistics seemed to lie at the intersection of languages and mathematics and that it might suit me. Until Year 8, I attended various linguistics clubs, and then I deliberately transferred to a school with a humanities-focused class. In general, I had no doubts about where to apply from Year 9, or even earlier. As for science in the literal sense, if you want to deal with theoretical (rather than computational) linguistics, there are not many alternatives outside academia. So, after graduating from university, I simply continued working in theoretical linguistics and… found myself in science.

The Focus of My Research

At the moment, I work in two areas. The first, which is also the topic of my PhD thesis, is ordinal numerals. In some languages, these form a separate set of words created morphologically, while in others there are special constructions for expressing them. In Russian, for example, both options exist. We can say ‘vtoroy’ (‘second’), or we can use the construction ‘number two’, which has a meaning similar to ‘second’. I study numerals using a sample of one hundred languages from different language families spoken around the world.

This topic has its own background. During my first year as an undergraduate, we had an elective course in which I worked with four classmates on a project about ordinal numerals in Nakh-Daghestanian languages (spoken in Dagestan, Chechnya, Ingushetia, and some other regions).

When we began collecting data, we discovered that these languages use a way of forming ordinal numerals that appeared to be rare. In them, ordinal numerals are formed using a participle derived from the verb ‘to say.’ In other words, ‘third’ would be something like ‘three-said,’ or, if translated literally, “that which is called ‘three.’” This strategy seemed rare to us, but to make such a claim, we needed a reference to a study stating, for example, that ‘this strategy occurs in 2% of the world’s languages.’ When it turned out that no such study existed, I decided to carry it out myself.

The second project is a collaborative one involving my supervisor and a group of other researchers, including myself. We are working on a description of a dialect of the Rutul language spoken in the village of Kina in Dagestan. We are interested in identifying which dialect features are present there and how the system as a whole is structured.

Why Linguistics Is Important

From a linguistic point of view, the more languages are described, the greater access researchers—especially those who compare large numbers of languages—have to linguistic diversity. If we only had grammars of English, French, and German, we might think that all languages in the world are structured in roughly the same way. If we added a fourth language that was very different, we would realise that languages are far more diverse. And if we added even more languages, we would see that this diversity is greater still.

Moreover, it seems to me that describing languages spoken in relatively small areas is important for the language communities themselves. There is a tendency for people to gradually abandon their local languages in favour of a larger national one, and languages that fall out of use eventually die. When people see that researchers from Moscow are interested in their language, this can encourage them to continue using it. Rutul does not have this problem—it is still a living language passed down to future generations. Nevertheless, I hope that our research helps to support its speakers.

What I Take Pride In

In January, together with my colleague and friend Ivan Netkachev, I published an article on ordinal numerals in the Nakh-Daghestanian languages that I mentioned earlier. We gave a great deal of thought to the issues discussed in the paper and proposed our own theory as to why this method of forming numerals is so rare globally yet so widespread in Dagestan. There were two possible explanations: either there was a proto-language with this method of forming ordinal numerals and the modern languages inherited it, or the method originated in one language or branch and then spread through language contact.

The problem is that neither explanation on its own fully accounts for the pattern we observe. Therefore, we proposed a hypothesis that there is a certain template which developed either in the proto-language or in one of its later, though still ancient, branches. Each language in the group then inserts its own verbs into this template. In Lezgian and other languages of the group, one verb is used, whereas in Rutul, for example, a completely different verb is used—one that is not historically related to the verbs in other Lezgic languages. I am very proud of this article.

My Dreams

In my first years at university, I had a dream of writing a grammar—that is, describing an entire language from scratch. But later I realised that this is extremely difficult and requires spending several years immersed in the language. At first glance, everything may seem straightforward, but then it turns out that a deep and thorough description could take twenty years. Now I would like to work on topics that, in my view, have been overlooked by the linguistic community, or to fill existing gaps. When I see a topic that has not been studied but could potentially be useful to me or to others, I am willing to take it on. In the near future, my goal is to defend my PhD thesis.

What Science Means to Me

Science is the study of the world so that people can understand it better. I am not sure whether it has a single, clearly defined mission. For example, people working in pure mathematics may appear to deal with something very abstract and detached from reality, yet their work can later be applied to practical problems, for instance in engineering—even decades later. The same is true of theoretical physics. As for theoretical linguistics, I honestly do not know whether it will have practical applications or who might need it, but that does not worry me. To me, it is simply another way of discovering something new about the world. I find it interesting, and that is why I am happy to pursue it.

If I Hadn’t Become a Scientist

I would have been a film critic. In Year 11, I even started looking for places where I could study this, but it turned out that everywhere required the Unified State Examination in Literature, and I was not prepared for that. Later, while studying at HSE, I found a workshop that produced a whole magazine about cinema. I do not remember what it was called, but for a while I wrote texts, news pieces, and other materials for it. Once, I was even given a press pass, which allowed me to attend an advance screening of Doctor Sleep, and afterwards I wrote a review. However, I do not think it was very good. A couple of my other film-related texts were published in a magazine called Demagog, created by my acquaintances. After that, I continued writing a little for myself and for a small circle of friends, but over the past few years I have shifted towards anime—and I am not sure everyone is interested in reading about that.

Scientists I Would Like to Meet

There are a number of scholars whom I know only through their work—I have read them extensively or on a regular basis. In particular, these include the Caucasian studies specialists Alexander Kibrik, Mikhail Alekseev, and Helma van den Berg. All of them passed away before I entered university. So it feels a bit like a parasocial relationship: I know their work, but not them as people. It would probably be interesting to see them in person in some hypothetical situation—to attend a lecture, for example, and hear them speak about their research.

Whether I Have Experienced Burnout

I experienced burnout when I was working at a school during my undergraduate studies. I was assigned a noisy and unruly Year 7 class, while the Year 9 students, whom I had to prepare for their Russian exams, had not fully mastered the Year 8 material. This was during the pandemic, when we had to alternate between on-site and online lessons, and in the end, I simply resigned.

In linguistics, I do not experience burnout in an overall sense. Instead, it tends to be connected to specific tasks—when I think about having to do a particular task, I sometimes feel like crying. In such cases, I simply close my laptop and do not open it for a couple of days. I used to feel guilty about this. There is a kind of cult of workaholism, where a person is expected to spend most of their time working, and if they are not working but reading books or playing computer games, they are seen as lazy and criticised. But I think this is wrong. If your body tells you that you need rest, then you should rest. After all, if I do not take care of myself, who will?

My Interests Besides Science

I crochet and knit. It’s not as if I am ready to open my own shop, but I have made a few things for myself, a jumper for my husband, and a baby blanket for friends. When my hands are busy, I concentrate better—especially when I need to listen and absorb information, such as audio dramas, which I really enjoy.

Most of my favourite audio dramas, for some reason, are in the horror genre. I remember that in my early undergraduate years many of my friends were listening to The Magnus Archives, and at the time I thought I would not manage it because I found it difficult to process information by ear. Eventually, I decided to try, and for about a year I listened to one episode a month—and in the end, I learned how to do it. This has also helped me in my work. Previously, I could comfortably listen to talks lasting 20–30 minutes, but I found it difficult to concentrate during lectures that lasted an hour and a half, and I would constantly doodle in my notebook. Now I can listen for much longer periods without needing to keep my hands occupied.

What Have You Been Reading Lately?

Just yesterday, the final chapter of the manga Chainsaw Man was released—that’s the most recent thing I have read. As for more traditional literature, I have been reading Jeff VanderMeer’s series, The Southern Reach. It is somewhat similar to Roadside Picnic by the Strugatsky brothers. There is also an anomalous zone, explored by an organisation that sends expeditions into it. These books deal with ecology, science fiction, and many other themes.

Advice for Aspiring Scientists

First, some general advice: do not focus on something that you merely do not dislike—choose something you genuinely enjoy. Sooner or later, something that is simply tolerable will become unpleasant. That is also why you should force yourself as little as possible. If you constantly push yourself to do something against your will, it only makes things worse and leads to burnout.

More specifically, it is important to understand that this kind of work is not for everyone. At least in linguistics, you are largely your own boss. You choose what to research and where to publish your articles. You conduct your own studies. Working hours, free time, weekends and weekdays—all of this is up to you to organise. I know people in academia who work at all hours, but I decided that since people outside academia rest at weekends, I will do the same.

During the working week, my time management is also my responsibility. If this suits you, and if you are not focused on achieving quick, tangible results that you can see and touch in the near future, then a career in science might be right for you. Some people find this uncertainty unsettling and begin to wonder whether they are really doing the right thing in life or whether they should pursue something more practical.

My Favourite Place in Moscow

The Patriarshy Bridge, which runs from the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour across the river. It offers an amazing view—it is beautiful. It is a pedestrian bridge and connects two areas that I find particularly pleasant. On one side, there is Gogolevsky Bulvar, and on the other, the Muzeon Park. Whenever friends from other cities come to visit me, I always take them to the Patriarshy Bridge.