This
page might take at least half a minute to load because of its length.
Unfortunately,
Internet Explorer 11 will no longer play the videos I have embedded
below. As far as I can tell they play as intended in other Browsers.
However, if
you have Privacy Badger [PB] installed, they won't play in Google Chrome
unless you disable PB for this site.
[Having said that,
I have just discovered that they will play in IE11 if you have upgraded to
Windows 10 or 11. It looks like the
problem was with Windows 7 and earlier versions of that operating system.]
If you are using Internet Explorer 10 (or later), you might find some of the
links I have used won't work properly unless you switch to 'Compatibility View'
(in the Tools Menu); for IE11 select 'Compatibility View Settings' and add this
site (anti-dialectics.co.uk). Microsoft's browser, Edge, automatically renders
these links compatible; Windows 10 and 11 do likewise.
However, if you are using Windows 10 or
11, IE11 and Edge unfortunately appear to colour these links somewhat
erratically. They are meant to be mid-blue, but those two browsers render them
intermittently light blue, yellow, purple and even red!
Firefox and Chrome reproduce them
correctly, as far as I can determine.
Several browsers also
appear to underline these links erratically. Many are underscored boldly in
black, others more lightly in blue! They are all meant to be the latter.
Finally, if you are
viewing this with Mozilla Firefox, you might not be able to read all the symbols
I have used.
Mozilla often replaces them with an "º'.
There are no such
problems with Chrome, Edge, or Internet Explorer, as far as I can tell.
[DM = Dialectical
Materialism/Materialist, depending on the context; HM = Historical
Materialism/Materialist, again depending on the context.]
As is the case with all my work,
nothing here should be read as an attack either on HM -- a scientific
theory I fully accept --, or, indeed, revolutionary socialism. I remain
as committed to the self-emancipation of the working class and the dictatorship
of the proletariat as I was when I first became a revolutionary over thirty-five
years ago. The difference between
DM
and HM, as I see it, is explained
here.
Some
readers might wonder why I have quoted extensively from a wide variety of
DM-sources in the Essays published at this site. In fact a good 10-20% of the
material in many of them is comprised of just such quotations. Apologies
are therefore owed the reader in advance for the length and
extremely repetitive nature of most of these quoted passages. The reason
for their inclusion is that long experience has taught me that Dialectical
Marxists simply refuse to accept that their own classicists
-- e.g., Engels, Plekhanov, Lenin, Trotsky and Mao, alongside countless 'lesser'
DM-theorists --, actually said the things I have attributed to them. That is
especially the case after they are confronted with the absurd consequences
that flow from their words; and that remains the case unlessand until
they are shown chapter and verse
and in extensive detail. In debate, when I quote only one or two passages
in support of what I allege, they are simply brushed off as a "outliers" or as
"atypical". Indeed, in the absence ofdozens of proof texts drawn from
many such sources (across all areas of Dialectical Marxism) they tend to
regard anything that a particular theorist had to say -- regardless of
whether they are one of the aforementioned classicists -- as either "far too
crude", "unrepresentative" or even(!) unreliable. Failing that, they
often complain that any such quotes have been "taken out of context". Many in
fact object since -- surprising and sad though this is to say --, they are
largely ignorant of their own theory or they simply haven't read the
DM-literature with due care,or at all!
The only way to counter such attempts to deflect, reject and deny is to quote
DM-material frequentlyandat length.
Furthermore, because of the highly sectarianand partisan nature of
Dialectical Marxism, I also have to quote a
wide range of sources from across the entire 'dialectical spectrum'.
Trotskyists object if I quote Stalin
or Mao; Maoists and Stalinists complain if I reference Trotsky -- or even if I
cite "Brezhnev
era revisionists". Non-Leninist Marxists bemoan the fact that I
haven't confined my remarks
solely to what Marx or Hegel had to say, advising me to ignore the
confused, even "simplistic", ideas expressed by Engels, Plekhanov, Lenin,
Stalin, Mao and Trotsky! This often means I have to quote the lot!
That itself has had the
(indirect) benefit of revealing how much and to what extent they (the
classicists and subsequent epigones across all areas of Dialectical Marxism)
largely agree with each other (despite sectarian rhetoric to the contrary), at
least with respect to DM!
Some critics have complained that my linking to Wikipedia completely undermines the credibility of
these Essays. When I launched this project on the Internet in 2005, for the vast
majority of topics there was very little material easily available on-line to
which I could link other than Wikipedia. In the intervening years
alternative sites have become available (for example, the excellent
Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy and the InternetEncyclopedia
of Philosophy), so I am progressively replacing most of the old
Wikipedia links with links to these other sources. Having said that, I
haven't done so for some of the Wikipedia links -- for instance, any that
are connected with geographical, historical, scientific, biographical (etc.)
topics,
where the relevant areasaren't considered controversial, at least
among fellow Marxists. In every instance, I have endeavoured to avoid linking to
Wikipedia in relation to key areas of my arguments against DM so that at no
point does my criticism of this theory/method depend exclusively on such links.
In addition to the above (as readers will soon see
if they consult the Bibliography) I
have provided copious references to other published academic and non-academic
books and articles (posted on-line or printed in hard copy) in the End Notes to
this Essay, which further develop or substantiate anything I argue, claim,
allege or propose.
Others have complained about the number of links
I have added to these Essays because they say it makes them very difficult to
read. Of course, DM-supporters can hardly lodge that complaint since they
believe everything is inter-connected, and that must surely apply even to
Essays that attempt to debunk that
very idea. However, to those who find such links do make these Essays
difficult to read I say this: ignore them -- unless you want to access
further supporting evidence and argument for a particular point, or a certain
topic fires your interest.
Others wonder why I have linked to familiar
subjects and issues that are part of common knowledge (such as the names of
recent Presidents of the USA, UK Prime Ministers, the names of rivers and
mountains, the titles of popular films, or certain words that are in common
usage). I have done so for the following reason: my Essays are read all over the
world and by people from all 'walks of life', so I can't assume that topics
which are part of common knowledge in 'the west' are equally well-known across
the planet -- or, indeed, by those who haven't had the benefit of the sort of
education that is generally available in the 'advanced economies',
or any at all. Many of my readers also struggle with English, so any help
I can give them I will continue to provide.
Finally on this specific topic, several of the
aforementioned links connect to web-pages that regularly change their URLs, or
which vanish from the Internet altogether. While I try to update them when it
becomes apparent that they have changed or have disappeared I can't possibly
keep on top of this all the time. I would greatly appreciate it, therefore, if
readers
informed me
of any dead links they happen to notice. In general, links to Haloscan no
longer seem to work, so readers needn't tell me about them! Links to
RevForum, RevLeft, Socialist Unity and The North Star
also appear to have died.
~~~~~~oOo~~~~~~
This
Essay seeks to challenge a well established, if not dominant, set
of ideas about 'mind', language and 'cognition' widely held by philosophers,
cognitive scientists, revolutionaries and other assorted Marxists. This
tradition has been labelled
The Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm.
[Follow
that link for an explanation.]
It is
important to add, however, that many of the conclusions drawn below depend on
much that has gone before in other Essays published at this site, as well as
others yet to be published.
Moreover,
the material below
is far from complete;
as I noted on the opening page of this site:
I am only publishing this material on the Internet
because several comrades whose opinions I respect urged me to do so back in 2005
-- even though the work you see before you is less
than half complete. Many of my ideas are still in the
formative stage and need
considerable
attention devoted to them to mature.
I estimate this project will take another ten
or twenty years to complete before it is fit to publish, either here, in its
final form, or in hard copy.
At a
later date, I will be returning to this Essay to add further material on
Vygotsky, Chomsky and a handful others on the left who have written on this
topic.
Even in
its incomplete state, the reader will find this Essay challenging the widely
held views mentioned above -- i.e., those belonging to The
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm. This family of theories has in one
form or another dominated 'Western' thought since Ancient Greek times, and that
includes ideas concerning the nature of 'mind', 'consciousness' and 'cognition'
held by the vast majority of Dialectical Marxists.
~~~~~~oOo~~~~~~
It is
important to add that a good 50% of my case against this area of DM (and
Cognitive Science) has been relegated to the
End Notes.
This has been done to allow the main body of the Essay to flow a little more
smoothly. This means that if readers want fully to appreciate my case against
this area of DM (and Cognitive Science), they should consult this material. In
many cases, I have qualified my comments (often adding greater detail and
additional evidence); I have even raised objections (some obvious, many not --
and, indeed, some that will have occurred to the reader) to my own arguments --
which I have then answered. [I explain why I have adopted this tactic in
Essay One.]
If
readers skip this material, then my answers to any qualms or objections they
might have will be missed, as will my expanded comments, evidence and
clarifications. Since I have been debating this theory with comrades for over 25
years, I have heard all the objections there are! [Many of the more recent
on-line debates have been listed here.]
It is
also worth adding that phrases like
"ruling-class theory", "ruling-class view
of reality", "ruling-class ideology" (etc.) used at this site (in connection
with Traditional Philosophy and DM), aren't meant to suggest that all or
even most members of various ruling-classes actually invented these ways of
thinking or of seeing the world (although some of them did -- for
example,
Heraclitus,
Plato,
Cicero,
and
Marcus Aurelius).
They are intended to highlight theories (or "ruling
ideas")
that are conducive to, or which rationalise, the interests of the various
ruling-classes history has inflicted on humanity, whoever invents them.
Up until recently this
dogmatic approach to knowledge had almost
invariably been promoted by thinkers who either relied on ruling-class
patronage, or who, in one capacity or another, helped run the system
for the elite.**
However, that will become the central topic of Parts Two and Three of Essay
Twelve (when they are published); until then, the reader is directed
here,
here and
here
for more details.
[**Exactly
how this applies to DM will, of course, be explained in several other Essays
published at this site (especially
here,
here, and
here). In addition to the three links in the previous
paragraph, I have summarised the argument (but this time tailored for
absolute beginners!)
here.]
This
Essay isn't
meant to be an academic study, merely an intervention in revolutionary
theory. In that case, unnecessary technicalities have been omitted. For those
who want more details, I have listed books and articles in the
End Notes
that further elaborate on, or which defend, the approach adopted at this site.
The reader must not, however, assume that I agree with everything contained in
these other works.
Throughout much of this Essay I have blurred the distinction we should normally
want to draw between the meaning of a word and the
sense of a proposition.
A more pedantic deployment of this distinction wouldn't significantly alter many
of the conclusions reached in the main body of this Essay, but it would merely
stretch further the patience of the reader. I have listed several different
meanings of "meaning" here.
I also explain the rationale behind the distinction drawn at this site between
meaning and sense, here.
Finally, I begin this Essay with a brief summary of some of the results of Essay
Twelve. In that case, any readers who find what I have to say at the start
somewhat dogmatic, controversial or unconvincing should consult that Essay for
supporting argument and evidence. [Part
One of Essay Twelve has already been
published; the unpublished material has, however, been summarised
here.]
~~~~~~oOo~~~~~~
As of
April 2025, this Essay is just over 226,000 words long; a summary of some
of its main ideas will be posted at this site in the coming months.
The
material presented below does not represent my final view of any of the issues
raised; it is merely 'work in progress'.
Anyone using
these links must remember that they will be skipping past supporting argument
and evidence set out in earlier sections.
If your
Firewall/Browser has a pop-up blocker, you will need to press the "Ctrl" key at
the same time or these and the other links here won't work!
I have adjusted the font size used at
this site to ensure that even those with impaired vision can read what I have to
say. However, if the text is still either too big or too small for you, please
adjust your browser settings!
In this Part
of Essay Thirteen I will be discussing in much greater detail several theories
of language, 'consciousness' and 'cognition' promoted both by Dialectical
Marxists and Traditional Philosophers. In the course of which, I will
focus on the work of
Voloshinov
and Vygotsky
as well as others on the left who have written on these and related topics. In
addition, I will also examine the unfavourable attention certain areas of Wittgenstein's
work have attracted from a number of revolutionaries (which will augment what I
have already published
here). Finally, I
will also be criticising some of Chomsky's ideas in this area.
It is worth pointing from the start that
I won't be considering:
(i) The relation between language, class
and power;
(ii) The connection between gender and
language;
(iii) Regional dialects;
(iv) The standardisation of written and
spoken language; or,
(v) Examples of
ideologically-compromised or politically offensive discourse -- i.e., racist,
sexist and reactionary speech.
That isn't because I think the above are
unimportant; far from it. It is because several of them will be tackled
in Part Seven of Essay Twelve (when it is finally published). The rest have
already been adequately addressed in books and articles written by others on the
far left. Since I don't disagree with the majority of the substantive points
they make on such issues, comment would clearly be superfluous in an Essay that
is alreadyfar too long.
It will be
established in Essay Twelve Part Seven that a particular theory of language has
dominated 'Western' (and, indeed, 'Eastern') thought for over two thousand
years. This approach sees the primary role of discourse (in fact, in many cases,
its only
legitimate role) as representational, and hence that it acts solely as a
vehicle for thought
(or, perhaps, as an outer expression of 'inner thought'), not as a means
of communication. In fact, if discourse was ever seen as a means of
communication, it was often regarded as a vehicle for communicating thoughts
already arrived at independently of, and prior to, social interaction.
In fact, the
evidence shows that language was originally regarded (by priests, theologians
and philosophers, for example) as a gift of the 'gods', and hence a 'hot line'
which also allowed them to re-present their 'thoughts' to humanity. Or,
to be more accurate, which allowed them to be re-presented to a 'chosen' few
(i.e., the aforementioned priests, theologians and philosophers). This meant
members of this 'superior' social layer could 'process' all these
'divinely-sanctioned' thoughts on behalf of the masses, ideas that were often
expressed in obscure,
esoteric,
allegorical, poetic, figurative or highly technical language. These would then
present these 'profundities' to 'expectant humanity' as if they had come from
on high.
Indeed, as
Umberto Eco
points out (at least in relation to the 'western', Christian tradition):
"God spoke before all things, and said, 'Let there be light.' In this way, he
created both heaven and earth; for with the utterance of the divine word, 'there
was light'.... Thus Creation itself arose through an act of speech; it is only
by giving things their names that he created them and gave them their
ontological
status.... In
Genesis..., the Lord speaks to man for
the first time.... We are not told in what language God spoke to Adam.
Tradition has pictured it as a sort of language of interior illumination, in
which God...expresses himself....
Clearly we are here in the presence of a
motif, common to other religions and mythologies -- that of the
nomothete, the name-giver, the creator of language." [Eco (1997), pp.7-8.
Bold emphases and links added; paragraphs merged.]
Language was therefore seen as a vehicle for the "inner illumination" of the
'soul'; a hot-line to 'God'. Unsurprisingly, the theories concocted by countless
generations of ruling-class hacks turned out to be those that almost
invariably rationalised or 'justified' the status quo, class division,
inequality, exploitation and systematic oppression.
These
ancient 'intellectual' fantasies also implied that not only had the universe
been called into existence by the use of language, but
language -- via the 'Word of God', the Logos -- now ran the entire show. And
yet, the exclusive medium in which much of this fairy-tale was expressed wasn't
just any old language, and it certainly wasn't the vernacular. It was a
highly specialised language full of freshly coined, jargonised expressions
invented by this elite layer of theorists so they could re-present the
'divine' order and 'god's' thoughts to humanity. In relation to this, ordinary
discourse (that had grown out of and was based on the lives and experience of
ordinary working people) was declared completely inadequate. As the late
Professor Havelock pointed out (in connection with the
jargon concocted by Ancient Greek theorists):
"As long as preserved communication remained oral, the environment could be
described or explained only in the guise of stories which represent it as the
work of agents: that is gods.
Hesiod takes
the step of trying to unify those stories into one great story, which becomes a
cosmic theogony. A great series of matings and births of gods is narrated to
symbolise the present experience of the sky, earth, seas, mountains, storms,
rivers, and stars. His poem is the first attempt we have in a style in which the
resources of documentation have begun to intrude upon the manner of an acoustic
composition. But his account is still a narrative of events, of 'beginnings,'
that is, 'births,' as his critics the
Presocratics
were to put it. From the standpoint of a sophisticated philosophical language,
such as was available to Aristotle, what was lacking was a set of commonplace
but abstract terms which by their interrelations could describe the physical
world conceptually; terms such as space, void, matter, body, element, motion,
immobility, change, permanence, substratum, quantity, quality, dimension, unit,
and the like. Aside altogether from the coinage of abstract nouns, the
conceptual task also required the elimination of verbs of doing and acting and
happening, one may even say, of living and dying, in favour of a syntax which
states permanent relationships between conceptual terms systematically. For this
purpose the required linguistic mechanism was furnished by the timeless present
of the verb to be -- the copula of analytic statement.
"The history of early philosophy is
usually written under the assumption that this kind of vocabulary was already
available to the first Greek thinkers. The evidence of their own language is
that it was not. They had to initiate the process of inventing it....
Nevertheless, the Presocratics could not invent such language by an act of novel
creation. They had to begin with what was available, namely, the vocabulary and
syntax of orally memorised speech, in particular the language of
Homer and
Hesiod. What they proceeded to do was to take the language of the mythos and
manipulate it, forcing its terms into fresh syntactical relationships which had
the constant effect of stretching and extending their application, giving them a
cosmic rather than a particular reference." [Havelock (1983), pp.13-14, 21.
Bold emphases added; quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions
adopted at this site. Spelling modified to agree with UK English. Links added;
several paragraphs merged.]
Subsequently, in the work of
Plato,
Aristotle
and
Plotinus,
for example, language became a medium that enabled the 'soul' to converse
with itself (via "inner speech"), which prompted these and subsequent
philosophers into concluding they had ready access to all those 'divine',
eternal verities,
but now derivedfrom thought alone.1
As noted above, 'languageless thought' was regarded as the means by which
the 'select few' could draw close to 'Being'/'God' -- an idea that then helped
motivate the 'problem' of the relation between the
'Knower' and the 'Known',
which later re-surfaced as the main problematic of
German Idealism.
This was a class-compromised dogma that subsequently reappeared in an 'inverted'
form in 'Materialist Dialectics' where it became a key component in addressing
the alleged relationship between 'Thought' and 'Being'.1a
In the work
of early modern (and increasingly secular) theorists, 'consciousness'
then came to refer to what supposedly took place on in an inner, private arena
where the bourgeois 'Mind'/'Soul' -- operating now as a socially-isolated
'epistemological atom' --, could represent to itself, not just these
formerly 'divine truths', but any 'information' whatsoever (in the form of
'impressions', 'images', 'ideas', 'concepts' or 'abstractions') that the senses
sent its way. In many cases the former ended up shaping the latter (as we
discovered in Essay Three Parts One
and Two, and Essay Twelve
Part One).
"Although the ancients raised questions
about our own knowledge of our perceptions and thought, and introduced the idea
of an inner sense, they had no word for consciousness and they did not
characterize the mind as the domain of consciousness. Aristotelians conceived of
the mind as the array of powers that distinguish humanity from the rest of
animate nature.... What is distinctive of humanity, and what characterizes the
mind, are the powers of the intellect -- of reason and of the rational will.
Knowledge of these powers is not obtained by 'consciousness' or 'introspection',
but by observing their exercise in our engagement with the world around us. The
medievals followed suit. They too lacked a term for consciousness, but they
likewise indulged in reflection upon 'inner senses', arguably -- in the wake of
Avicenna's distinguishing five such senses -- to excess.
"Descartes's innovations with regard to
the uses in philosophy of the Latin 'conscientia' (which had not hitherto
signified consciousness at all) as well as the French 'la conscience', were of
capital importance. For it was he who introduced the novel use of the term into
the philosophical vocabulary. He invoked it in order to account for the
indubitable and infallible knowledge which he held we have of our Thoughts (cogitationes)
or Operations of the Mind. His reflections reshaped our conception of the mind
and redrew the boundaries of the mental. Thenceforth consciousness, as opposed
to intellect and sensitivity to reasons in thought, affection, intention and
action, was treated as the mark of the mental and the characteristic
of the mind.
"The expression 'conscius' and the French word 'conscient', and the
attendant conception of consciousness, caught on among his correspondents and
successors (Gassendi,
Arnauld,
La
Forge,
Malebranche). So too 'consciousness' and
'conscious' caught on among English philosophers, churchmen and scientists (Stanley,
Tillotson,
Cumberland,
Cudworth
and
Boyle). But it is to
Locke
that we must turn to find the most influential, fully fledged, philosophical
conception of consciousness that, with some variations, was to dominate
reflection on the nature of the human mind thenceforth. This conception was to
come to its
baroque
culmination in the writings of
Kant. In the Lockean tradition, consciousness
is an inner sense. Unlike outer sense, it is indubitable and infallible.
It is limited in its objects to the operations of the mind. The objects of
consciousness are private to each subject of experience and thought. What one is
thus conscious of in inner sense constitutes the subjective foundation of
empirical knowledge. Because consciousness is thus confined to one's own mental
operations, it was conceived to be equivalent to self-consciousness --
understood as knowledge of how things are 'subjectively' (privately, in foro
interno ('inside the individual concerned' -- RL)) with one's self.
"The ordinary use of the English noun 'consciousness' and its cognates
originates in the early seventeenth century, a mere three or four decades prior
to the Cartesian introduction of a novel sense of 'conscius' and 'conscient'
into philosophy in the 1640s. So it evolved side by side with the philosophical
use -- but, on the whole, in fortunate independence of it. For the ordinary use
developed, over the next three centuries, into a valuable if specialized
instrument in our toolkit of cognitive concepts. By contrast, as we shall see,
philosophical usage sank deeper and deeper into quagmires of confusion and
incoherence from which it has not recovered to this day." [Hacker (2013a),
pp.11-12. (See also the more detailed comments on the history of this word:
pp.15-19, as well as
this paper
by Hacker. (This links to a PDF.)) Italic emphases in the original; links
added.]
"The term 'consciousness' is a
latecomer upon the stage of Western philosophy. The ancients had no such term.
Sunoida, like its Latin equivalent conscio, meant the same as 'I
know together with' or 'I am privy, with another, to the knowledge that'. If the
prefixes sun and cum functioned merely as intensifiers, then the
verbs meant simply 'I know well' or 'I am well aware that'. Although the
ancients did indeed raise questions about the nature of our knowledge of our own
perceptions and thought, and introduced the idea of an inner sense, they did not
characterize the mind as the domain of consciousness. Aristotelians conceived of
the mind as the array of powers that distinguish humanity from the rest of
animate nature. The powers of self-movement, of perception and sensation, and of
appetite, are shared with other animals. What is distinctive of humanity, and
what characterizes the mind, are the powers of the intellect -- of reason, and
of the rational will. Knowledge of these powers is not obtained by consciousness
or introspection, but by observation of their exercise in our engagement with
the world around us. The mediaevals followed suit. They likewise lacked any term
for consciousness, although they too indulged in reflections upon 'inner senses'
-- in the wake of Avicenna's distinguishing five such senses, arguably to
excess....
"The English word 'conscious' is
recorded by the OED [Oxford English Dictionary -- RL] as first occurring at the
beginning of the seventeenth century, when, like the Latin 'conscius', it
signified sharing knowledge with another or being witness to something. In its
early forms, it occurred in phrases such as 'being conscious to another' and
‘being conscious to something'. But sharing knowledge rapidly evolved into being
privy to unshared knowledge, either about others or about oneself. So 'to be
conscious to' quickly became a cousin to the much older expression 'to be aware
of'. The form 'to be conscious to' was slowly displaced by 'to be conscious of'.
'To be conscious of something', of course, signified a form of knowledge. So
like 'to know', 'to be conscious of something' is a
factive verb
-- one cannot be conscious of something that does not exist or is not the case.
Outside philosophy, there was no suggestion whatsoever that the objects of
consciousness, i.e. that of which one can be said to be conscious, are
restricted to one's own mental operations. One could be said to be conscious of
what one perceived, or of some feature of what one perceived, of
one's own or another's deeds -- both good and evil, of a pertinent fact (the
lateness of the hour, the merits of a case) and of one's own or another's
virtues or vices, and so forth. It was not until the middle of the nineteenth
century that 'consciousness' came to be used to signify wakefulness as opposed
to being unconscious. Thenceforth one could speak of losing and regaining
consciousness. The common or garden notions of self-consciousness, i.e. either
being excessively aware of one's appearance (a usage now lapsed) or being
embarrassingly aware that others are looking at one, is nineteenth-century
vintage. Being class conscious, money-conscious, or safety-conscious are
twentieth century coinage....
"The expression 'conscious' was
introduced into philosophy, almost inadvertently, by Descartes.
It does not appear in his work prior to the
Meditations(1641), and even there it occurs just once. In the Third
Meditation, it occurs not in relation to knowledge of one's 'thoughts' or
'operations of the mind', but in relation to awareness of the power to
perpetuate one's own existence (AT VII, 49; CSM II, 34). It was only under
pressure from objectors to this single remark that Descartes was forced, in his
'Replies to Objections', to elaborate his ideas on knowing our own 'thoughts'.
His developed position in the
Principlesand late correspondence was unstable. The expression and
attendant conception, caught on among Descartes' contemporaries and successors
(Gassendi, Arnauld, La Forge) and among English philosophers (Stanley,
Tillotson, Cumberland and Cudworth). But it is to Locke, almost fifty years
later, that we must turn to find the most influential, fully fledged,
philosophical concept of consciousness that was to dominate reflection on
the nature of the human mind thenceforth. The attendant conception was to come
to its baroque culmination (or perhaps nadir of confusion) in the writings of
Kant and the post-Kantian German idealists.
"Descartes used the terms
conscientia, conscius, and conscio to signify a form of
knowledge, namely the alleged direct knowledge we have of what is passing in our
minds. What we are conscious of (which I shall call the 'objects of
consciousness') are Thoughts, a term which Descartes stretched to include
thinking (as ordinarily understood), sensing or perceiving (shorn of their
factive force), understanding, wanting, and imagining. Because he held thinking
to be the sole essential attribute of immaterial substances, he claimed that we
are thinking all the time, waking or sleeping. He also held that consciousness
of operations of the mind is indubitable and infallible. He argued that the mind
is, as it were, transparent. For, he wrote (AT VII, 214; CSM II, 150), it is
self-evident that one cannot have a thought and not be conscious of
it -- although the thoughts we have in sleep are immediately forgotten." [Hacker
(2012), pp.1-3. (This links to a PDF.) Italic emphases in the
original, links added. "AT" refers to one of the standard collections of
Descartes's work, edited by Charles Adam and Paul Tannery; "CSM" refers to the
more recent edition by John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff, Dugald Murdoch and
Anthony Kenny. Even though the second passage of Hacker's repeats parts of the
first, I have quoted it since it adds extra important details.]
[I have said
much more about the Christian-Platonic-Cartesian Paradigm, making slightly
different points in
Note 1.]
In general,
this family of theories held that such 'information' was processed by 'the mind'
employing one or more of the following:
(a) A set of
'innate' ideas;
(b)
Privately applied rules or 'habits of mind';
(c) A
collection of (arbitrarily chosen) 'categories' or 'concepts', which were
supposedly implanted in us by 'god', or the presence of which was necessitated
by our psychological, 'logical', or, more recently, our genetic and evolutionary
make-up; and,
(d)
'Abstractions' that had been cobbled-together in an as-yet-to-be-explained
manner.
[Several of
the above were discussed in more detail in Essay Three Parts One and Two
(links a few paragraphs back).]
Hence, on
this view, language was primarily regarded as a means by which the inner
microcosm ('consciousness') could be put in the right intellectual order so
that it was capable of mirroring the outer macrocosm. Only then was
language allowed to function as a means of communication. And, even then,
language only served to provide outer expression to private acts of
'intellection', cognition', or 'meaning'. 'Social meaning' was then constructed
out of these atomised base units -- supposedly cobbled-together inside each
individual, bourgeois skull. The social was thus an expression of the
individual,
not the other
way round.
For
Rationalist
and Empiricist
Philosophers alike, in the end, truth was to be found by the individual who
examined the contents of her/his mind -- the difference between these two
traditions now revolved around the stories their respective ideologues told in
order to turn each subjectively framed theory into an 'objective' account
of reality -- a 'reality' which, unsurprisingly, they now found rather hard to prove
actually exists!1b
Give or take
a few extra details and further complications, this is largely how things
remain to this day. The
dualism of Mind/World, coupled with
Representationalist theories of knowledge and cognition have kept 'western'
thought permanently teetering on the edge of Idealism and Scepticism for more
than two millennia. This predicament isn't likely to alter this side of massive
social change.
[The reason
for saying that is set out in Essay Three
Part Two. Why it teeters on the
verge of Scepticism, at least as far as Dialectical Marxism is concerned, was
explained in Essay Ten
Part One.]
So,
outside the Marxist tradition, language was seen
secondarily as a means of communication --, and even that was only so
that the private thoughts of each Social Atom might be shared with other
similarly placed Social Atoms.1c
This
dominant paradigm holds that each 'mind'
represents the world to itself
first -- perhaps constructing a private language to that end, using "the
light of reason", an inner "language
of thought", a "transformational
grammar" (now "unbounded
Merge"),
and/or a "Language
Acquisition Device" -- before it is able to convey its thoughts to
other like 'minds' trapped by the same predicament. Indeed, only because of such
inner goings on could human beings be said to have any thoughts at all
to convey to anyone else. 'Thought', on this view, wasn't a social
phenomenon, but a private, occult (hidden), and essentially
individualised process or device.1d
Which why we
find that in most modern forms of
Cognitive Theory the 'mind' is fragmented into a set of compartments,
or 'processors', each juggling with countless 'representations' -- the latter
hived-off to assorted 'modules',
now (metaphorically) seen as specialised,
deskilledpsychological subcontractors of some sort, the bourgeois social division
of labour now reproduced in the operation of the 'mental economy' at work in
each bourgeois cranium --, with every such individual and her/his
'consciousness' reduced to the sum of these fragmented parts.2
To be sure,
the view of the 'world' that this approach attributes to each one of us is no
longer that which was intended by the 'gods', it is now that which has been
contrived by our genes. As if to cap it all, 'Evolutionary
Psychology' (henceforth, EP -- now the dominant intellectual force in
this area) of late projects the origin of this inner bourgeois individual
(which we are all supposed to carry around in our heads) tens of thousands of
years back into the mists of time, informing us that selfishness, individualism,
male dominance, violence, the instinct to "truck and barter", and much else
besides, were all hard-wired into our brains -- to such an extent that we
would be foolish even tothink about resisting them.2a0
Once again,
we see the status quo
under-pinned by a new set of ruling ideas, this time dressed up in the language
of
Neo-Darwinism, Genetics and
Cognitive Science.
Each and
everyone of us is thus pictured as a perfectly selfish, social atom -- before
we even begin to speak.
The bourgeois individual is indeed alive
and well, and living in a skull near you!
Worse still,
this particular set of ruling ideas aims to rule over all our other ideas --, it
even overshadows and dominates the doctrines invented by erstwhile
revolutionaries, as we have seen,
and will see again throughout this Essay.
Of course,
as we also saw in Essay Three
Part Two, the problem here is
that if they were correct, each of these general theories would be trapped in
the private world of its inventor, with no legitimate avenue of escape.
Since no two theorists (or, indeed, human beings) can possibly share the same
ideas, communication -- given this view -- would be impossible.2a
Naturally,
this only undermines further the already shaky rationale that exists for
adopting representationalism in the first place.
The end
result of all this is that Marx and Engels's insight that language is the
product of collective labour and communal life -- and thus that its primary role
lies in communication -- has never seriously been considered, let alone adopted, even by those who claim to be
Marxists!
[Unfortunately, we saw this was true of erstwhile Marxists in general
here; we
will witness further confirmation as this Essay unfolds.]
To that end,
the ordinary language of the working class has been distorted, depreciated and
denigrated by ruling-class hacks from ancient times onward as part of a
class-motivated assault on the vernacular.
The reason
for this is plain -- as Marx pointed out:
"The
philosophers have only to dissolve
their language into the ordinary language, from which it is abstracted, in order
to recognise it, as the distorted language of the actual world,
and to realise that neither thoughts nor language
in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only manifestations
of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphases
added.]
As Essay
Twelve Part Two will show (in the meantime, see
here), the reason
for such disparagement is quite plain: it is impossible for anyone (let alone
Priests and Philosophers) to concoct metaphysical theories using only the
vernacular.2b
Hence, the vernacular had to be declared limited at best, defective at worst,
and a whole new complex and abstract terminology was invented in its place. This
was done so that a 'hidden world' lying behind or beyond 'appearances',
accessible to 'thought' alone, could be conjured into existence (as we saw
above). And, as we now know, this
approach was prosecuted in order to provide a priori
'justification' for class division, oppression, inequality and state power.3
Representational theories still dominate Philosophy, Psychology and Linguistics,
so it isn't surprising to see Marx's words amply confirmed in this regard, too:
"The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e.
the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its
ruling intellectual force. The class which has the means of material
production at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of
mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those
who lack the means of mental production are subject to it. The ruling ideas
are nothing more than the ideal expression of the dominant material
relationships, the dominant material relationships grasped as ideas; hence of
the relationships which make the one class the ruling one, therefore, the ideas
of its dominance. The individuals composing the ruling class possess among
other things consciousness, and therefore think. Insofar, therefore, as they
rule as a class and determine the extent and compass of an epoch, it is
self-evident that
they do this in its whole range, hence among other things rule also as
thinkers, as producers of ideas, and regulate the production and distribution of
the ideas of their age: thus their ideas are the ruling ideas of the epoch...."
[Marx
and Engels (1970), pp.64-65. Bold
emphases added.]
However,
this Essay is mainly concerned with the ideas of those who at least give
lip-service to the idea that language is a social phenomenon and serves
primarily as a means of communication. To that end, I will begin with a
brief look at how certain Marxists have received the work of the single most
important modern champion of the social and communal approach to language:
Ludwig
Wittgenstein.
It was
acknowledged in
an
Additional Essay that there are
serious problems facing anyone who tries to combine Marx's and Wittgenstein's
ideas. Naturally, this doesn't mean that such a synthesis can't be achieved, but
it does mean that if this is to happen it will require a much more secure
understanding of both thinkers than has hitherto been apparent.4
[TAR = The Algebra of Revolution,
or Rees (1998a); DM = Dialectical Materialism/Materialist, depending on
context.]
Having said that, there is still a high level of distrust of -- if not
resistance or open hostility shown toward -- Wittgenstein's ideas among
revolutionaries. This surfaces in TAR, for example, in the following passage:
"The social root of these
[postmodernist] ideas has been identified as the new middle class in retreat
from the values of the 1960s. But the narrower intellectual source of [such]
views is the intellectual climate in which postmodernist notions such as the
idea that '"reality" is a purely discursive phenomena, a product of various
codes, conventions, language games or signifying systems…'." [Rees (1998a),
p.297.]
While it is
true that Rees is quoting
Christopher Norris here, his reference to "language games" is (intentionally
or not) clearly directed at Wittgenstein.5
Nevertheless, the puzzled reader might wonder why there is no explicit mention
in TAR of arguably the 20th
century's greatest philosopher, when numerous second-, and third-rate thinkers
receive inordinate attention. This in a book seeking to make the
dialectic relevant!
That would be rather like, say, writing a history of modern Physics but
forgetting to mention
Einstein,
Dirac or
Bohr.
As noted above, revolutionaries in
general have displayed a consistent level of hostility toward Wittgenstein's
ideas, a stance that hasn't always been matched by a serious attempt to come to
grips with his work -- or even summarise it accurately!
For example,
Cornforth [in Cornforth (1965)] openly misrepresents Wittgenstein's work
solely in order to rubbish it. This is surprising since Cornforth had once
been one of
Wittgenstein's close
friends.
However, as
is plain to anyone who bothers to check, Cornforth confused parts of
Wittgenstein's early work with that of
Russell
and
Carnap, asserting that he adopted a "verificationist"
stance to "elementary
propositions" in the Tractatus,
for example. This interpretation muddles Russell's empiricist approach to such
propositions with the anti-metaphysical thrust of the Tractatus.
Verificationism is completely foreign to that work.
The simple objects of the Tractatus
aren't objects of possible experience, but
logical objects, as Wittgenstein himself clearly indicates. [Cf.,
Wittgenstein (1972), 2.01-2.0211, 2.023, 2.024-2.031, 4.1272. (This links to
a PDF. The numbers refer to sections of the Tractatus.)]5a
Cornforth
must have known this, which perhaps explains why he offered no evidence to
substantiate his wild allegations. Little wonder, either, since there isn't any
evidence; neither the word "verification", nor any of its synonyms, occur in the
Tractatus, and the entire idea is
completely at odds with Wittgenstein's own stated aims.6
Cornforth's depiction of Wittgenstein's
Tractatus is a catalogue of errors and misrepresentations from beginning to
end, to such an extent that it is doubtful whether he actually read that
book! Or if he did, he plainly forgot much of what he had read before he pun
pen to misuse. In fact, it is abundantly clear that Cornforth relied on second-,
or third-hand comments about the Tractatus, written by
Positivists
(such as
Moritz Schlick), among others. In fact,
Cornforth only directly quotes the Tractatusonce in his five page
'summary' of it, and even then this reference is brief and relates to the
Preface alone!
Cornforth's discussion of Wittgenstein's
later work is, thankfully, less unreliable. Although he manages to get one or
two things right, he ends up confusing the method adopted
in the Philosophical Investigations with that found in Oxford
'Ordinary Language Philosophy'
(henceforth, OLP); that is, with the work of
Ryle,
Austin,
Warnock,
Strawson, Urmson and
Hampshire,
etc. Beyond a few superficial similarities, Wittgenstein's work bears no
resemblance at all to "Oxford Philosophy". [On this, see Cavell (1971a) and
Dummett (1960).]
An equally
inept attempt to come to grips with Wittgenstein's work (and with OLP in
general) is to be found in Chapter Seven of
Marcuse's
One Dimensional Man. [Marcuse (1968).]
Unfortunately, Marcuse made the mistake of referencing Ernest Gellner's
notorious
Words and Things [i.e., Gellner (1959)], which contains somewhat similar,
but lengthier, criticisms of Wittgenstein and OLP (Marcuse (1968), note 2, p.141
-- i.e., note 136,
here). Gellner's execrable book won't be examined in this Essay; readers
interested in a thorough take-down of that scurrilous work, by someone who isn't
a fan of Wittgenstein or OLP, might like to check out Uschanov (2002), or,
perhaps, the longer version of that paper available
here.
[See also Dummett (1960).]6a0
Marcuse
begins with this
hackneyed criticism of both OLP and
Wittgenstein (in what follows, italic emphases are in the original, and
quotation marks have been altered to conform with the conventions adopted at
this site):
"Austin's
contemptuous treatment of the alternatives to the common usage of words, and his
defamation of what we 'think up in our armchairs of an afternoon';
Wittgenstein's assurance that philosophy 'leaves everything as it is' -- such
statements exhibit, to my mind, academic sado-masochism, self-humiliation, and
self-denunciation of the intellectual whose labour does not issue in scientific,
technical or like achievements. These affirmations of modesty and dependence
seem to recapture Hume's mood of righteous contentment with the limitations of
reason which, once recognized and accepted, protect man from useless mental
adventures but leave him perfectly capable of orienting himself in the given
environment. However, when Hume debunked substances, he fought a powerful
ideology, while his successors today provide an intellectual justification for
that which society has long since accomplished -- namely, the defamation of
alternative modes of thought which contradict the established universe of
discourse."
Added in a footnote:
"The proposition that philosophy leaves everything as it is may be true in the
context of Marx's Theses on Feuerbach (where it is at the same time
denied), or as self-characterization of neo-positivism, but as a general
proposition on philosophic thought it is incorrect." [Marcuse (1968),
pp.141-42. Quotation marks altered to
conform with the conventions adopted at this site. Spelling altered to UK
English. I have used the on-line text here, and have corrected any typographical
errors I managed to spot. The same is true of the other passages from this book
quoted below.]
I won't try
to defend John Austin in this Essay, but Marcuse clearly failed to notice that
when Wittgenstein said philosophy "leaves everything as it is" he was speaking
of the discipline as he practised it, not as it has traditionally been
pursued. Moreover, in view of the fact that Traditional Philosophy is little
more than self-important hot air (on that, see Essay Twelve
Part One), except perhaps
negatively, it can't change anything, anyway.
Furthermore,
Wittgenstein isn't advocating "conformism", as Marcuse alleges. It is no more
the role of philosophy to challenge the status quo than it is the role
of, say, basket weaving to challenge advanced brain surgery. Alongside Marx (who,
it is worth recalling, had abandoned philosophy root and branch by the late
1840s and advised others to do likewise), Wittgenstein, again like Marx,
would have argued that the point is in fact to change the world,
not build non-sensical
and
incoherent
philosophical theories about it. Change is the remit of
political action, science and technology, not philosophy (even if
individual philosophers might choose to involve themselves in the class
struggle), as Wittgenstein conceived it.
Here is
Wittgenstein:
"[W]hat is the use of studying
philosophy if all it does for you is to enable you to talk with some
plausibility about some abstruse questions of logic etc., if it does not improve
your thinking about the important questions of everyday life, if it does not
make you more conscientious than any...journalist in the use of the DANGEROUS
phrases such people use for their own ends." [Letter from Wittgenstein to
Malcolm, 16/11/1944, quoted in Malcolm (2001), p.93. Capitals in the original.]
Here is
Marx:
"One has to 'leave philosophy aside'..., one has to leap out of it and
devote oneself like an ordinary man to the study of actuality...." [Marx
and Engels (1976), p.236. Bold emphases
alone added. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at
this site.]
"The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point is
to change it." [Theses
on Feuerbach.]
"It can be seen how subjectivism and objectivism,
spiritualism and materialism, activity and passivity, lose their antithetical
character, and hence their existence as such antitheses, only in the social
condition; it can be seen how the resolution of the theoretical
antitheses themselves is possible
only in a practical way, only through the practical energy of man,
and how their resolution is for that reason by no means only a problem of
knowledge, but a real problem of life, a problem which philosophy
was unable to solve precisely because it treated it as a purely theoretical
problem." [Marx
(1975b), p.354.Bold emphasis added.]
"The
philosophers have only to dissolve
their language into the ordinary language, from which it is abstracted, in order
to recognise it, as the distorted language of the actual world,
and to realise that neither thoughts nor language
in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only manifestations
of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphasis
added.]
Moreover,
one only has to read the many conversations that took place between Wittgenstein
and those he gathered around him to see that he wasn't a political quietist.
Nor was he unsympathetic to Marxism or, indeed, the gains made by the Russian
Revolution. [On that, see
here.]
In fact,
Marcuse along with the vast majority of Wittgenstein critics (and, it is worth
adding, many Wittgensteinians, too) misquote or misinterpret him in this regard.
Here is what Wittgenstein actually said:
"Philosophy may in no way interfere with
the actual use of language; it can in the end only describe it. For it cannot
give any foundation either. It leaves everything as it is. It also leaves
mathematics as it is, and no mathematical discovery can advance it."
[Wittgenstein (1958), §124, page 49e.]
From this it
is quite clear that the word "everything" refers back to "the actual use of
language". This is plain from the fact that he then goes on to mention
mathematics ("It also leaves mathematics as it is"), which he wouldn't
have added if "everything" were totally unqualified in the way that many now
suppose. So, philosophy leaves everything in language and mathematics as
they are, but (by default) nothing else. Whether or not one agrees with
Wittgenstein, this passage offers no support to those who characterise
Wittgenstein as a
conservative.
Incidentally, the most recent translation of the above passage reads as follows:
(1) "Philosophy must not interfere in
any way with the actual use of language, so it can in the end only describe it.
(2) "For it cannot justify it either.
(3) "It leaves everything as it is.
(4) "It also leaves mathematics as it
is, and no mathematical discovery can advance it." [Wittgenstein
(2009), §124, p.55e. (This links to a PDF.) Numbers added.]
If anything,
that is even clearer. As I have pointed out elsewhere at this
site:
Once more, it is clear that the word "everything",
in Line 3, is restricted to "the actual use of language", and that can be seen
from the next sentence. If "everything" were totally unrestricted, there would
be no point adding the extra caveat in Line 4. Why inform us that Philosophy
"also" leaves mathematics as it is if we have just been told it leaves
"everything" as it is? If the meaning of "everything" in Line 2 is
unrestricted, then mathematics can't be part of "everything", can it? So,
either Wittgenstein was a sloppy stylist (who wants or admit that?), or
he held rather odd beliefs about mathematics.
So, in Line 3, Wittgenstein is talking about "the
actual use of language", not
absolutely everything -- from politics to pottery, science to sociology,
quasars to quarks! The continual use of "it" should have alerted commentators to
this rather simple point (here coloured appropriately to assist the unconvinced
see the light):
(1) "Philosophy
must not interfere in any way with the actual use of
language, so
it can in the end only describe
it.
(2) "For it
cannot justify
it
either.
(3) "It
leaves
everything as it
is.
(4) "It also leaves
mathematics as it
is, and no
mathematical discovery can advance
it."
The red "it" clearly refers back to "philosophy",
but it is no less clear that the purple "it" refers back to "the actual use of
language", which means that "everything as it is" is correctly coloured purple,
too.
Furthermore,
we have on record the following interaction between Norman Malcolm and
Wittgenstein:
"[W]hat is the use of studying
philosophy if all it does for you is to enable you to talk with some
plausibility about some abstruse questions of logic etc., [and] if it does not
improve your thinking about the important questions of everyday life, if it
does not make you more conscientious than any...journalist in the use of the
DANGEROUS phrases such people use for their own ends." [Letter from Wittgenstein
to Malcolm, 16/11/1944, quoted in Malcolm (2001), p.93. Capitalisation in the
original; bold added.]
[Here
Wittgenstein is clearly referring Malcolm to his new conception of philosophy.]
This doesn't
sound like the remark of a 'philosophical quietist', as he has often been
portrayed by many academics and activists on the left.
Now, in line
with the traditional contempt
shown by ruling-class theorists toward the vernacular and the thoughts of
ordinary workers, Marcuse argues as follows:
"Throughout the work of the linguistic
analysts, there is this familiarity with the chap on the street whose talk plays
such a leading role in linguistic philosophy. The chumminess of speech is
essential inasmuch as it excludes from the beginning the high-brow vocabulary of
'metaphysics;' it militates against intelligent non-conformity; it ridicules the
egghead. The language of John Doe and Richard Roe is the language which the man
on the street actually speaks; it is the language which expresses his behaviour;
it is therefore the token of concreteness. However, it is also the token of a
false concreteness. The language which provides most of the material for the
analysis is a purged language, purged not only of its 'unorthodox' vocabulary,
but also of the means for expressing any other contents than those furnished to
the individuals by their society. The linguistic analyst finds this purged
language an accomplished fact, and he takes the impoverished language as he
finds it, insulating it from that which is not expressed in it although it
enters the established universe of discourse as element and factor of meaning.
"Paying respect to the prevailing variety of meanings and usages, to the power
and common sense of ordinary speech, while blocking (as extraneous material)
analysis of what this speech says about the society that speaks it, linguistic
philosophy suppresses once more what is continually suppressed in this universe
of discourse and behaviour. The authority of philosophy gives its blessing to
the forces which make this universe. Linguistic analysis abstracts from
what ordinary language reveals in speaking as it does -- the mutilation of man
and nature." [Marcuse (1968),
pp.142-43.]
From this it
is quite plain that Marcuse prefers the obscure and impenetrable jargon that
ruling-class hacks regularly inflict on their readers to the language of
ordinary workers, and it isn't hard to see why. Indeed, as was alleged above,
Marcuse all but concedes that it is impossible to derive the empty theses of
Traditional Philosophy ("metaphysics") if theorists confine themselves to the
vernacular. [On this, see Essay Twelve
Part One.] And that is why he complains that the language used by
Wittgenstein, and others, has been "purged" of the very jargon upon which
traditionalists like Marcuse dote -- which "purge" is in fact a move in the
right direction since it would prevent them from even attempting to
perform their verbal tricks.
Arguing in
this way, Marcuse plainly disagrees with Marx himself (quoted earlier):
"The philosophers have only to dissolve their language into the ordinary
language, from which it is abstracted, in order to recognise it, as the
distorted language of the actual world, and to realise that neither thoughts
nor language in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only
manifestations of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphases
added.]
It is also
worth pointing out that, again like many others, Marcuse has confused ordinary
language with "common sense". As we
have seen, these two aren't at all the same. [On that, cf., Hallett (2008),
pp.91-99.] Moreover, Marcuse is wrong in what he says about "eggheads" -- in
fact, in all my years of studying Wittgenstein and OLP (to date, at least 40
years), I have yet to encounter anything that remotely suggests this reading. It
isn't surprising, therefore, to find that Marcuse fails to quote, or even
cite, a single passage in support of his wild allegations.
Furthermore,
neither the OLP-ers nor Wittgenstein raised objections against other uses
of language, they simply point out that it is a serious error to suppose one can
answer questions about knowledge, perception, time, space, thought, action,
etc., by using words in technical, or in other odd ways (a point Marx also
made).
As Hanjo
Glock notes:
"Wittgenstein's ambitious claim is that
it is constitutive of metaphysical theories and questions that their employment
of terms is at odds with their explanations and that they use deviant rules
along with the ordinary ones. As a result, traditional philosophers cannot
coherently explain the meaning of their questions and theories. They are
confronted with a trilemma: either their novel uses of terms remain unexplained
(unintelligibility), or...[they use] incompatible rules (inconsistency), or
their consistent employment of new concepts simply passes by the ordinary use --
including the standard use of technical terms -- and hence the concepts in terms
of which the philosophical problems were phrased." [Glock (1996), pp.261-62. See
also
this
quotation, and my comments in Essay Thirteen
Part One, as well as those I have posted
at Wikipedia (here
and
here) concerning the use of technical terms in science.]
"For
two and a half millennia some of the best minds in European culture have
wrestled with the problems of philosophy. If one were to ask what knowledge has
been achieved throughout these twenty-five centuries, what theories have been
established (on the model of well-confirmed theories in the natural sciences),
what laws have been discovered (on the model of the laws of physics and
chemistry), or where one can find the corpus of philosophical propositions known
to be true, silence must surely ensue. For there is no body of philosophical
knowledge. There are no well-established philosophical theories or laws. And
there are no philosophical handbooks on the model of handbooks of dynamics or of
biochemistry. To be sure, it is tempting for contemporary philosophers,
convinced they are hot on the trail of the truths and theories which so long
evaded the grasp of their forefathers, to claim that philosophy has only just
struggled out of its early stage into maturity.... We can at long last expect a
flood of new, startling and satisfying results -- tomorrow.
"One can blow the Last Trumpet
once, not once a century. In the seventeenth century Descartes thought he had
discovered the definitive method for attaining philosophical truths; in the
eighteenth century Kant believed that he had set metaphysics upon the true path
of a science; in the nineteenth century Hegel convinced himself that he had
brought the history of thought to its culmination; and Russell, early in the
twentieth century, claimed that he had at last found the correct scientific
method in philosophy, which would assure the subject the kind of steady progress
that is attained by the natural sciences. One may well harbour doubts about
further millenarian promises." [Hacker (2001c), pp.322-23.]
Comrades
like Marcuse are welcome to this
monumental waste of ink and paper (to which Hacker alludes) -- and that
comment applies even more so to 'dialectical philosophy', which is definitely
the poor relation
of this long slow detour to nowhere.
What of
this, though?
"Moreover, all too often it is not even the ordinary language which guides the
analysis, but rather blown-up atoms of language, silly scraps of speech that
sound like baby talk such as 'This looks to me now like a man eating poppies,'
'He saw a robin', 'I had a hat.' Wittgenstein devotes much acumen and spare to
the analysis of 'My broom is in the corner.'" [Marcuse (1968),
p.143.]
But, does
Marcuse take Hegel or Engels to task for their use of "The rose is red"
(on that, see here
and here),
or Lenin for his employment of "John
is a man"? Not a bit of it! In fact, Marcuse misses the point of using such
simple language: If we can't get the latter right, we stand no chance with more
complex propositions or bodies of text. Indeed, as we have seen (for example,
here, here
and here),
dialecticians can't even get "John is a man" right! [Which rather makes my
point for me, one feels.]
However,
Marcuse has an answer to this:
"To take another illustration: sentences such as 'my broom is in the corner'
might also occur in Hegel's Logic, but there they would be revealed as
inappropriate or even false examples. They would only be rejects, to be
surpassed by a discourse which, in its concepts, style, and syntax, is of a
different order -- a discourse for which it is by no means 'clear that every
sentence in our language is in order as it is."' Rather the exact opposite is
the case -- namely, that every sentence is as little in order as the world is
which this language communicates." [Ibid.,
p.144. Bold emphasis added. Quotation
marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.]
But, if the
above were indeed so -- if "every sentence is as little in order as the world is
which this language communicates" then the ordinary words and sentences Marcuse
himself usescan't be "in order", either, which means we can't take
what they say at face value. [But, is there another, deeper significance
to his words?] We have
already seen that
attempts to argue that ordinary language is in some way (or in any way)
defective back-fire on anyone foolish enough to try. But, here we encounter the
same reckless bravado, for if Marcuse's words aren't "in order", what can
they possibly mean? As Marcuse notes on the same page:
"Thus the analysis does not terminate in the universe of ordinary discourse, it
goes beyond it and opens a qualitatively different universe, the terms of which
may even contradict the ordinary one." [Ibid.,
p.144.]
Except that here the tables are turned on Marcuse, for if we analyse his
words, and are able to follow his argument, we see that (if he were correct) his
words would imply the opposite of what he intended -- that is, our
ability to comprehend what he says shows that his words
are in the "right order" and hence we can understand him after all!
And yet, as soon as we succeed in understanding what he is telling us, we
immediately see that his words aren't in fact in the "right order",
for he tells us that
none are!
--
"every sentence is as little in order as the world is which this language
communicates"
--,
and that they make no sense, therefore. [Yet another ironic 'dialectical
inversion', one feels.]
Next we
encounter this hackneyed criticism -- Marcuse (quoting Wittgenstein):
"The almost masochistic reduction of
speech to the humble and common is made into a program: 'if the words
"language", "experience", "world", have a use, it must be as humble a one as
that of the words "table", "lamp", door."' We must 'stick to the subjects of our
every-day thinking, and not go astray and imagine that we have to describe
extreme subtleties...' -- as if this were the only alternative, and as if the
'extreme subtleties' were not the suitable term for Wittgenstein's language
games rather than for Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. Thinking
(or at least its expression) is not only pressed into the straitjacket of common
usage, but also enjoined not to ask and seek solutions beyond those that are
already there. 'The problems are solved, not by giving new information,
but by arranging what we have always known.'
"The self-styled poverty of philosophy,
committed with all its concepts to the given state of affairs, distrusts the
possibility of a new experience. Subjection to the rule of the established fact
is total -- only linguistic facts, to be sure, but the society speaks in its
language, and we are told to obey. The prohibitions are severe and
authoritarian: 'Philosophy may in no way interfere with the actual use of
language.' 'And we may not advance any kind of theory. There must not be
anything hypothetical in our considerations. We must do
away with all explanation, and description alone must take its place.'
"One might ask what remains of philosophy? What remains of thinking,
intelligence, without anything hypothetical, without any explanation? However,
what is at stake is not the definition or the dignity of philosophy. It is
rather the chance of preserving and protecting the fight, the need to
think and speak in terms other than those of common usage -- terms which are
meaningful, rational, and valid precisely because they are other terms. What is
involved is the spread of a new ideology which undertakes to describe what is
happening (and meant) by
eliminating the concepts capable of understanding what is happening (and
meant)." [Ibid.,
pp.144-45.]
Marcuse has
worked himself up into a right old lather here, all the while missing the point.
Once more, Wittgenstein was speaking here of his
new approach to philosophy, which, if correct, would mean that
traditional forms-of-thought, beloved of characters like Marcuse, are nothing
more than elaborate, insubstantial "houses of cards". Wittgenstein is certainly
not arguing against
"anything
hypothetical", or against "explanation" in other areas of theory (for
example, in science -- indeed, he developed a novel account of what it is to
reason hypothetically). Once more, in his haste to malign Wittgenstein, Marcuse
only succeeded in aiming a few blows at thin air.
And, far from the following being true,
the
opposite is in fact the case:
"It is rather the chance of preserving
and protecting the fight, the need to think and speak in terms other than
those of common usage -- terms which are meaningful, rational, and valid
precisely because they are other terms. What is involved is the spread of a new
ideology which undertakes to describe what is happening (and meant) by
eliminating the concepts capable of understanding what is happening (and
meant)." [Ibid.]
The obscure
terminology that litters the pages of Traditional Thought, and particularly
the impenetrable jargon Hegel inflicted on his readers, actually prevents
us from understanding the world. As pointed out in Essay Twelve
Part One, the influence of Traditional Philosophy must be terminated in
order to facilitate the advance of scientific knowledge in general, and Marxism
in particular. [Here, of course, I am very loosely paraphrasing Kant.]
Marcuse's
failure to get the point is further underlined by this blindingly irrelevant
comment:
"To begin with, an irreducible difference exists between the universe of
everyday thinking and language on the one side, and that of philosophic thinking
and language on the other. In normal circumstances, ordinary language is indeed
behavioural -- a practical instrument. When somebody actually says 'My broom is
in the corner,' he probably intends that somebody else who had actually asked
about the broom is going to take it or leave it there, is going to be satisfied,
or angry. In any case, the sentence has fulfilled its function by causing a
behavioural reaction: 'the effect devours the cause; the end absorbs the
means.'" [Ibid.,
pp.145-46.]
Marcuse plainly didn't know -- perhaps because of his characteristically sloppy
research --, that when Wittgenstein used the sentence "My broom is in the
corner" [Wittgenstein
(2009), §60, p.33e (this links to a PDF)] he was in fact criticising
a view he himself had adopted in the Tractatus -- about (i) The nature of
logically simple names, (ii) The idea that a fact is a complex, and
(iii) The thesis that analysis is capable of revealing logical form, etc.
[Wittgenstein
(1972), 2-3.263, pp.7-25, and 5.5423, p.111 (this links to a PDF). On the
background to this, see White (1974, 2006). On Investigations §§37-61
(the relevant sections), see Baker and Hacker (2005b), pp.112-42, Hallett
(1977), pp.112-39, and Hallett (2008), pp.33-41.]
So,
Wittgenstein was here advancing a profound criticism of his earlier way of
seeing things. Now, whether or not one agrees with Wittgenstein
(before or
after he changed mind -- or even at all!), the issues he raises aren't of
the everyday "behavioural" sort that Marcuse seems to think; they concern the
logical nature of propositions and how they can be used to represent the world
(that is,
if they can). These are hardly trivial.
But, there
is more:
"In contrast, if, in a philosophic text
or discourse, the word 'substance,' 'idea,' 'man,' 'alienation' becomes the
subject of a proposition, no such transformation of meaning into a behavioural
reaction takes place or is intended to take place. The word remains, as it were,
unfulfilled -- except in thought, where it may give rise to other thoughts. And
through a long series of mediations within a historical continuum, the
proposition may help to form and guide a practice. But the proposition remains
unfulfilled even then -- only the hubris of absolute idealism asserts the thesis
of a final identity between thought and its object. The words with which
philosophy is concerned can therefore never have a use 'as humble ... as that of
the words "table", "lamp", "door"'.
"Thus, exactness and clarity in philosophy cannot be attained within the
universe of ordinary discourse. The philosophic concepts aim at a dimension of
fact and meaning which elucidates the atomized phrases or words of ordinary
discourse 'from without' by showing this 'without' as essential to the
understanding of ordinary discourse. Or, if the universe of ordinary discourse
itself becomes the object of philosophic analysis, the language of philosophy
becomes a 'meta-language.' Even where it moves in the humble terms of ordinary
discourse, it remains antagonistic. It dissolves the established experiential
context of meaning into that of its reality; it abstracts from the immediate
concreteness in order to attain true concreteness." [Ibid.,
p.146.]
Once again,
as we have also seen, it is in fact the
obscure jargon, which litters Traditional Philosophy, that
undermines clarity of
thought. In which case, it is no surprise to discover that, far from
constituting a "guide" to practice, dialectics has been roundly refuted by it.
[On that, see Essay Ten Part One.]
Moreover, as
far as 'abstraction' is concerned, Marcuse just helps himself to this word
without any attempt to explain the obscure 'process' that supposedly underlies
it -- or, indeed, any attempt to show how it
is even possible
to 'abstract' anything at all.
[On that, see Essay Three Parts One
and Two.]
"Ordinary language in its 'humble use' may indeed be of vital concern to
critical philosophic thought, but in the medium of this thought words lose their
plain humility and reveal that 'hidden' something which is of no interest to
Wittgenstein. Consider the analysis of the 'here' and 'now' in Hegel's
Phenomenology, or...Lenin's suggestion on how to analyze adequately 'this
glass of water' on the table. Such an analysis uncovers the history in
every-day speech as a hidden dimension of meaning -- the rule of society over
its language. And this discovery shatters the natural and reified form in which
the given universe of discourse first appeals. The words reveal themselves as
genuine terms not only in a grammatical and formal-logical but also material
sense; namely, as the limits which define the meaning and its development -- the
terms which society imposes on discourse, and on behaviour. This historical
dimension of meaning can no longer be elucidated by examples such as 'my broom
is in the corner' or 'there is cheese on the table.' To be sure, such statements
can reveal many ambiguities, puzzles, oddities, but they are all in the same
realm of language games and academic boredom." [Ibid.,
pp.147-48. I have corrected several
serious typographical errors in the on-line version of the last sentence.]
As we will
see in Essay Twelve, Hegel's crass analysis of spatial and temporal
indexicals (i.e., "here" and "now") is hardly a reassuring advert for the
'superiority' of DL over FL. Moreover, we have
already seen what a mess Lenin got himself into with his 'analysis' of glass
tumblers, using DL. In which case, the alleged 'banalities of ordinary language'
are much to be preferred over the irredeemable confusion that has for two
centuries oozed out of
Hegel's Hermetic House of Horrors,
clogging the minds of comrades like Marcuse. Indeed, science has about as much
to learn from this backwater of
Neoplatonic Mysticism
as it has from
dowsing or
crystal
gazing.
[FL = Formal Logic; DL = Dialectical
Logic.]
It is also
revealing to discover that Marcuse has an unhealthy interest in what is "hidden"
-- revealing because we have also seen that it is a cornerstone of
ruling-class ideology that there is a "hidden"
'reality' lying behind "appearances", which is accessible to thought alone and
which is more real than the world we see around us. Marcuse reveals yet again
that even though he pretends to be a radical, he is nonetheless a
philosophical conservative, happy to ape the thought-forms of the last
two-and-a-half millennia of boss-class theory. [On that, see
these
comments from Essay Two.]
Marcuse
continues:
"The therapeutic character of the
philosophic analysis is strongly emphasized -- to cure from illusions,
deceptions, obscurities, unsolvable riddles, unanswerable questions, from ghosts
and spectres. Who is the patient? Apparently a certain sort of intellectual,
whose mind and language do not conform to the terms of ordinary discourse. There
is indeed a goodly portion of psychoanalysis in this philosophy -- analysis
without Freud's fundamental insight that the patient's trouble is rooted in a
general sickness which cannot be cured by analytic therapy. Or, in a sense,
according to Freud, the patient's disease is a protest reaction against the sick
world in which he lives. But the physician must disregard the 'moral' problem.
He has to restore the patient's health, to make him capable of functioning
normally in his world.
"The philosopher is not a physician; his
job is not to cure individuals but to comprehend the world in which they live --
to understand it in terms of what it has done to man, and what it can do to man.
For philosophy is (historically, and its history is still valid) the contrary of
what Wittgenstein made it out to be when he proclaimed it as the renunciation of
all theory, as the undertaking that 'leaves everything as it is.' And philosophy
knows of no more useless 'discovery' than that which 'gives philosophy peace, so
that it is no longer tormented by questions which bring itself in
question.'" [Ibid.,
p.149.]
Here,
Marcuse unambiguously nails his colours to the mast, for he is perfectly happy
to assume the role Traditional Philosophers have always arrogated to themselves
(i.e., of possessing unique access to the aforementioned, hidden
Super-Truths, available to thought alone, but oddly enough not to
scientists), even though these Super-Theorists have yet to solve a single
problem in over 2500 years (as
Peter Hacker
pointed out). In fact,
they have yet to agree what a 'solution' would even look like -- or even what
the right questions are! Marcuse makes no attempt to defend this age-old
view of Philosophy, except he appeals to the fact that it has always been
regarded this way. So much for his radical credentials! But, how is it
that pure thought is able to gain such easy access to this 'hidden
world'? No good looking to Marcuse for an answer to that one; he is
conspicuously silent about it.
Is the
philosopher a physician? Not if she follows in Marcuse's footsteps and confuses
Wittgenstein's new approach to the subject with Traditional Thought.
[On this aspect of Wittgenstein's work,
see Fischer (2011a, 2011b).]
Once again,
Marcuse has a 'reply':
"This intellectual dissolution and even
subversion of the given facts is the historical task of philosophy and the
philosophic dimension. Scientific method, too, goes beyond the facts and even
against the facts of immediate experience. Scientific method develops in the
tension between appearance and reality. The mediation between the subject
and object of thought, however, is essentially different. In science, the medium
is the observing, measuring, calculating, experimenting subject divested of all
other qualities; the abstract subject projects and defines the abstract object."
[Ibid., p.150.
Bold emphasis added.]
This appears
to be an echo of Marx's claim:
"Vulgar economy actually does no more than interpret, systematise and defend in
doctrinaire fashion the conceptions of the agents of bourgeois production who
are entrapped in bourgeois production relations. It should not astonish us,
then, that vulgar economy feels particularly at home in the estranged outward
appearances of economic relations in which these prima facie absurd and
perfect contradictions appear and that these relations seem the more
self-evident the more their internal relationships are concealed from it,
although they are understandable to the popular mind. But all science would
be superfluous if the outward appearance and the essence of things directly
coincided." [Marx
(1981), p.956. Bold emphasis added.]
[I have
dealt with this view of science in Essay Twelve
Part One; the reader is directed there for more details. In addition, the
distinction Traditional Philosophers have drawn between "appearance" and
"reality" was criticised in Essay Three
Part Two.]
Even so, as
if to confirm an earlier allegation (that the jargon and thought-forms of
Traditional Philosophy have thoroughly compromised the brains of far too many
Dialectical Marxists), Marcuse kindly provides us with yet more evidence,
presenting his readers with this prize example of academic gobbledygook:
"In contrast, the objects of philosophic thought are related to a consciousness
for which the concrete qualities enter into the concepts and into their
interrelation. The philosophic concepts retain and explicate the pre-scientific
mediations (the work of everyday practice, of economic organization, of
political action) which have made the object-world that which actually is -- a
world in which all facts are events, occurrences in a historical continuum."
[Marcuse (1968),
pp.150-51.]
How Marcuse
knew all this a priori
psychology (about what is or what isn't related to "consciousness", or what does
or does not enter into "the concepts" and their "interrelation") he unwisely
kept to himself. But, this is just par for the course; as
we have seen, every single
dialectician does likewise: they impose their dogmatic theories on reality and
on human 'cognition' in a thoroughly traditional manner, all the while claiming
that this is precisely what they
aren't
doing!
"The separation of science from philosophy is itself a historical event.
Aristotelian physics was a part of philosophy and, as such, preparatory to the
'first science' -- ontology. The Aristotelian concept of matter is distinguished
from the Galilean and post-Galilean not only in terms of different stages in the
development of scientific method (and in the discovery of different 'layers' of
reality), but also, and perhaps primarily, in terms of different historical
projects, of a different historical enterprise which established a different
nature as well as society. Aristotelian physics becomes objectively wrong
with the new experience and apprehension of nature, with the historical
establishment of a new subject and object-world, and the falsification of
Aristotelian physics then extends backward into the past and surpassed
experience and apprehension." [Ibid.,
p.151. Emphasis in the original.]
Marcuse is
right here; as we will see in Essay Thirteen Part Two, the sciences gradually
separated themselves from Traditional Thought as scientists took the material
world increasingly into consideration in the formation of theory (through
careful observation and experiment), progressively (but not completely)
abandoning the
Super-Scientific
approach championed by this Ancient Tradition. [Of course, the situation is far
more complex than these brief comments might suggest. A useful summary of the
approach I intend to take about the relation between theoretical and
experimental science can be found in Lerner (1991) -- although the reader
mustn't assume I agree with everything Lerner has to say.] But, the separation
Marcuse mentions is in fact to the detriment of Traditional Thought, which now
reflects in a more pure form ruling-class ideology, an approach to a priori
theory Marcuse unwisely sought to emulate.
"...However it is fair to say that the most abstruse metaphysics has not
exhibited such artificial and jargonic worries as those which have arisen in
connection with the problems of reduction, translation, description, denotation,
proper names, etc. Examples are skilfully held in balance between seriousness
and the joke: the differences between Scott and the author of Waverly;
the baldness of the present king of France; Joe Doe meeting or not meeting the
'average taxpayer' Richard Roe on the street; my seeing here and now a patch of
red and saying 'this is red;' or the revelation of the fact that people often
describe feelings as thrills, twinges, pangs, throbs, wrenches, itches,
prickings, chills, glows, loads, qualms, hankerings, curdlings, sinkings,
tensions, gnawings and shocks." [Ibid.,
pp.151-52.]
However, the
point of all this is that unless we are capable of understanding the logic of
simple language like this we stand no chance with the impenetrable jargon Hegel
and other philosophers inflict on their readers.
Now, while
Marcuse makes a more substantive point (that the sort of analyses one finds in
early
Analytic Philosophy
-- concerning, say,
Russell's Theory of Descriptions, which was the point of him mentioning
Waverly
and the King of France, by the way -- are even more jargonised than Traditional
Metaphysics), he failed to cite any examples. Be this as it may, the
technical language employed by Analytic Philosophers is easy to paraphrase in
more ordinary terms. The same can't be said for the gobbledygook that holds
Marcuse in its thrall.
"In cleaning up this mess, analytic philosophy conceptualizes the behaviour in
the present technological organization of reality, but it also accepts the
verdicts of this organization; the debunking of an old ideology becomes part of
a new ideology. Not only the illusions are debunked but also the truth in those
illusions. The new ideology finds its expression in such statements as
'philosophy only states what everyone admits,' or that our common stock of words
embodies 'the distinctions men have found worth drawing.'" [Ibid.,
p.152.]
The two
quotations at the end of this passage are taken from Wittgenstein and John
Austin respectively. Wittgenstein's point is that the theses philosophers
concoct are very often misconstrued rules of language. As such, language
users readily acknowledge their triviality when they have been stated
clearly (since they use such rules every day) -- as I have shown in Essay Twelve
Part One. Moreover, Austin's
comment is in the past tense, and doesn't refer to the future. New
distinctions are always possible.
"What is this 'common stock'? Does it include Plato's 'idea,' Aristotle's
'essence,' Hegel's Geist,
Marx's Verdinglichung in whatever adequate translation? Does it
include the key words of poetic language? Of surrealist prose? And if so, does
it contain them in their negative connotation; that is, as invalidating the
universe of common usage? If not, then a whole body of distinctions which men
have found worth drawing is rejected, removed into the realm of fiction or
mythology; a mutilated, false consciousness is set up as the true consciousness
that decides on the meaning and expression of that which is. The rest is
denounced -- and endorsed -- as fiction or mythology." [Ibid.,
p.152.]
The point is
that unless the expressions Marcuse lists (Plato's "idea", Hegel's "Geist",
etc.) can be paraphrased in ordinary language, they can't be used to help draw a
single distinction (in that word's ordinary sense), to begin with.
As we have seen, metaphysical jargon like this is devoid of meaning (or,
rather, it can only be 'explained' in terms of yet more empty jargon) and
serves to confuse only those naive enough to take it seriously. However,
Marcuse's point about poetry is misplaced, too, since neither Austin nor
Wittgenstein would have wished to deny its literary merit. I suspect this point
has been lumped in here because of Marcuse's penchant for making unfounded and
sweeping allegations about a tradition in modern philosophy he plainly struggled
to comprehend.
Once more,
Marcuse has an 'answer':
"Analytic philosophy often spreads the
atmosphere of denunciation and investigation by committee. The intellectual is
called on the carpet. What do you mean when you say....? Don't you conceal
something? You talk a language which is suspect. You don't talk like the rest of
us, like the man in the street, but rather like a foreigner who does not belong
here. We have to cut you down to size, expose your tricks, purge you. We shall
teach you to say what you have in mind, to 'come clear,' to 'put your cards on
the table.' Of course, we do not impose on you and your freedom of thought and
speech; you may think as you like. But once you speak, you have to communicate
your thoughts to us -- in our language or in yours. Certainly, you may speak
your own language, but it must be translatable, and it will be translated. You
may speak poetry -- that is all fight. We love poetry. But we want to understand
your poetry, and we can do so only if we can interpret your symbols, metaphors,
and images in terms of ordinary language.
"The poet might answer that indeed he wants his poetry to be understandable and
understood (that is why he writes it), but if what he says could be said in
terms of ordinary language he would probably have done so in the first place. He
might say: Understanding of my poetry presupposes the collapse and invalidation
of precisely that universe of discourse and behaviour into which you want to
translate it. My language can be learned like any other language (in point of
fact, it is also your own language), then it will appear that my symbols,
metaphors, etc. are not
symbols, metaphors, etc. but mean exactly what they say. Your tolerance is
deceptive. In reserving for me a special niche of meaning and significance, you
grant me exemption from sanity and reason, but in my view, the madhouse is
somewhere else." [Ibid.,
pp.155-56. Typo corrected.]
Readers will
look long and hard, and to no avail, in the writings of Austin or Wittgenstein
for a single passage that even remotely resembles this mendacious caricature of
their view of poetry. Nowhere do they insist (or even imply) that what a
poet has to say should be translated into ordinary language, which is, of
course, why Marcuse failed to quote either of them to that effect.
However,
unless Marcuse and other metaphysicians are capable of making themselves clear (and
actually manage to do just that), they haven't in fact succeeded in saying
anything determinate. The onus is therefore on them to make their ideas and
theses comprehensible. Marcuse blames Analytic Philosophers for pointing this
out, as if it is their
fault that he and others like him speak and write in riddles, or insist
on producing gobbledygook
by the cartload. That makes about as much sense as blaming the boy -- in the
famous story by
Hans Christian Andersen -- for pointing out that the
Emperor was naked!
At this
point, Marcuse compounds his errors by turning his fire on ordinary language
(again, in a thoroughly traditional manner):
"But critical analysis must dissociate
itself from that which it strives to comprehend; the philosophic terms must be
other than the ordinary ones in order to elucidate the full meaning of the
latter. For the established universe of discourse bears throughout the marks of
the specific modes of domination, organization, and manipulation to which the
members of a society are subjected. People depend for their living on bosses and
politicians and jobs and neighbours who make them speak and mean as they do;
they are compelled, by societal necessity, to identify the 'thing' (including
their own person, mind, feeling) with its functions. How do we know? Because we
watch television, listen to the radio, read the newspapers and magazines, talk
to people.
"Under these circumstances, the spoken
phrase is an expression of the individual who speaks it, and of those who
make him speak as he does, and of whatever tension or contradiction may
interrelate them. In speaking their own language, people also speak the language
of their masters, benefactors, advertisers. Thus they do not only express
themselves, their own knowledge, feelings, and aspirations, but also
something other than themselves. Describing 'by themselves' the political
situation, either in their home town or in the international scene, they (and
'they' includes us, the intellectuals who know it and criticize it)
describe what 'their' media of mass communication tell them -- and this merges
with what they really think and see and feel.
"Describing to each other our loves and
hatreds, sentiments and resentments, we must use the terms of our
advertisements, movies, politicians and best sellers. We must use the same terms
for describing our automobiles, foods and furniture, colleagues and competitors
-- and we understand each other perfectly. This must necessarily be so, for
language is nothing private and personal, or rather the private and personal is
mediated by the available linguistic material, which is societal material. But
this situation disqualifies ordinary language from fulfilling the validating
function which it performs in analytic philosophy. 'What people mean when they
say...' is related to what they don't say. Or, what they mean cannot be
taken at face value -- not because they lie, but because the universe of thought
and practice in which they live is a universe of manipulated contradictions.
"Circumstances like these may be
irrelevant for the analysis of such statements as 'I itch,' or 'he eats
poppies,' or 'this now looks red to me,' but they may become vitally relevant
where people really say something ('she just loved him,' 'he has no heart,'
'this is not fair,' 'what can I do about it?'), and they are vital for the
linguistic analysis of ethics, politics, etc. Short of it, linguistic analysis
can achieve no other empirical exactness than that exacted from the people by
the given state of affairs, and no other clarity than that which is permitted
them in this state of affairs -- that is, it remains within the limits of
mystified and deceptive discourse."
[Ibid.,
pp.156-57. Emphases in the original.]
This once
again reveals Marcuse's contempt for ordinary workers and their forms of
discourse. To be sure, their use of language can be corrupted in the way he
says, but for every class-compromised sentence that can be uttered in ordinary
language, there exists its negation. That is why socialists can say things like
"Women aren't inferior", "Jews aren't sub-human", "Capitalism isn't fair", "Gays
aren't perverts!", etc. [More on that,
here. This
topic will be taken up again in detail in Essay Twelve Part Seven.]
It is also
clear that. like so may others, Marcuse has run-together speaker's meaning
with word meaning (a
topic I take up again later in much more detail); that can be seen in the
following passages:
"People depend for their living on
bosses and politicians and jobs and neighbours who make
them speak and mean as they do; they are compelled, by societal
necessity, to identify the 'thing' (including their own person, mind, feeling)
with its functions....
"In speaking
their own language, people also speak the language of their masters,
benefactors, advertisers. Thus they do not only express
themselves,
their own knowledge, feelings, and aspirations, but also something other than
themselves....
"We
must use the same terms for describing our automobiles,
foods and furniture, colleagues and competitors -- and we understand each other
perfectly. This must necessarily be so, for language is nothing
private and personal, or rather the private and personal is mediated by the
available linguistic material, which is societal material. But this situation
disqualifies ordinary language from fulfilling the validating function which it
performs in analytic philosophy. 'What people mean when
they say...' is related to what they don't say. Or,
what they mean cannot be taken at face value --
not because they lie, but because the universe of thought and practice in which
they live is a universe of manipulated contradictions." [Ibid.]
[Speaker's meaning has been highlighted in red; word meaning in purple.
What a
person intends to achieve with his/her words is surely distinct from what those
words mean. So, if NN says (sarcastically) "Well done!" and means
(speaker's meaning) "You screwed up!"
that in no way alters what either "well" or "done" mean in English.]
Despite
this, it is a bit rich of Marcuse pointing his class-compromised finger
at ordinary language when the traditional approach to Philosophy which he
champions is itself a clear expression of
ruling-class
forms-of-thought. Hence, concerning what Marcuse has to say:
"[H]is (i.e., Marcuse's) words are an
expression of the individual who speaks it, and of those who make him
speak as he does, and
of whatever tension or contradiction may interrelate them. In speaking his own
language, Marcuse also speaks the language of his masters, benefactors,
advertisers..." [Edited misquotation of Marcuse (1968).]
it is
worth asking: What makes Marcuse think he can rise above such social
forces?6a01
At this
point, it is important to recall once again Marx's comment:
"The philosophers have only to dissolve their language into the ordinary
language, from which it is abstracted, in order to recognise it, as the
distorted language of the actual world, and to realise that neither thoughts
nor language in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only
manifestations of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphases
added.]
It seems,
then, that Marx didn't share Marcuse's contempt for ordinary language. And no
wonder; by the time he wrote
The German Ideology, he knew philosophy couldn't change the world.
The working class is essential to that end. Holding the vernacular in
contempt is not, therefore, a good place to
start.
"Where it seems to go beyond this discourse, as in its logical purifications,
only the skeleton remains of the same universe -- a ghost much more ghostly than
those which the analysis combats. If philosophy is more than an occupation, it
shows the grounds which made discourse a mutilated and deceptive universe. To
leave this task to a colleague in the Sociology or Psychology Department is to
make the established division of academic labour into a methodological
principle. Nor can the task be brushed aside with the modest insistence that
linguistic analysis has only the humble purpose of clarifying 'muddled' thinking
and speaking. If such clarification goes beyond a mere enumeration and
classification of possible meanings in possible contexts, leaving the choice
wide open to anyone according to circumstances, then it is anything but a humble
task. Such clarification would involve analyzing ordinary language in really
controversial areas, recognizing muddled thinking where it seems to be
the least muddled, uncovering the falsehood in so much normal and clear usage.
Then linguistic analysis would attain the level on which the specific societal
processes which shape and limit the universe of discourse become visible and
understandable." [Marcuse (1968),
p.157.]
Marcuse
again mistakes the point of Wittgenstein's method; it isn't just aimed at
clearing up "muddles", but at showing that the distorted language of Traditional
Philosophy can't deliver any results at all -- that is, other than
profound confusion. The last 2500 years of
wasted effort is
testimony enough. In which case, we have no choice but to turn things over to
scientists and sociologists -- or, better still, to historical materialists who
haven't sold their radical souls for a
mess of
boss-class pottage.
"The range and extent of the social system of meaning varies considerably in
different historical periods and in accordance with the attained level of
culture, but its boundaries are clearly enough defined if the communication
refers to more than the non-controversial implements and relations of daily
life. Today, the social systems of meaning unite different nation states and
linguistic areas, and these large systems of meaning tend to coincide with the
orbit of the more or less advanced capitalist societies on the one hand, and
that of the advancing communist societies on the other. While the determining
function of the social system of meaning asserts itself most rigidly in the
controversial, political universe of discourse, it also operates, in a much more
covert, unconscious, emotional manner, in the ordinary universe of discourse. A
genuinely philosophic analysis of meaning has to take all these dimensions of
meaning into account because the linguistic expressions partake of all of them.
Consequently, linguistic analysis in philosophy has an extra-linguistic
commitment. If it decides on a distinction between legitimate and non-legitimate
usage, between authentic and illusory meaning, sense and non-sense, it invokes a
political, aesthetic, or moral judgment." [Ibid.,
p.159.]
Indeed, and
the political viewpoint (I will say nothing of its aesthetic or moral
aspects) of such an analysis is the same as Marx's when he (and not just the
OLP-ers) alleged that Philosophy is based on linguistic distortion and
confusion. Although, of course, this wasn't Wittgenstein's aim; it most
certainly is the present author's. But, this just shows that linguistic analysis
doesn't have to be as Marcuse depicted it. And sure, language changes,
but logical grammar does not. [I have given four examples of the latter,
here,
here,
here, and
here,
as well a many others right throughout this site. Readers who follow those link
will also see why logical grammar doesn't change (in the sense that it is ever
undone), it is simply augmented in line with social development.]
"It may be objected that such an 'external' analysis (in quotation marks because
it is actually not
external but rather the internal development of meaning) is particularly out of
place where the intent is to capture the meaning of terms by analyzing their
function and usage in ordinary discourse. But my contention is that this is
precisely what linguistic analysis in contemporary philosophy does not
do. And it does not do so inasmuch as it transfers ordinary discourse into a
special academic universe which is purified and synthetic even where (and just
where) it is filled with ordinary language. In this analytic treatment of
ordinary language, the latter is really sterilized and anesthetized.
Multi-dimensional language is made into one-dimensional language, in which
different and conflicting meanings no longer interpenetrate but are kept apart;
the explosive historical dimension of meaning is silenced." [Ibid.,
pp.159-60.]
Marcuse, of
course, says all this from the standpoint of his own "academic universe", which
was long ago compromised by thought-forms dominated by ruling-class ideology.
But, he is wrong about linguistic analysis, and particularly in relation to how
analysis is carried out in the Wittgensteinian tradition. Not only has the
latter motivated a wider application of his method to the Arts (Poetry, Drama
and Literature -- on that, see Perloff (1996)), but also to Sociology, Politics
and History (particularly the History and Sociology of Science). Admittedly,
much of this has unfolded since Marcuse rushed into print, but that just shows
how peremptory and parochial his accusations were. [More on this in Essays
Twelve Part Seven and Thirteen Part Two, when they are published.]
"Wittgenstein's endless language game with building stones, or the conversing
Joe Doe and Dick Roe may again serve as examples. In spite of the simple clarity
of the example, the speakers and their situation remain unidentified. They are x
and y, no matter how chummily they talk. But in the real universe of discourse,
x and y are 'ghosts.' They don't exist; they are the product of the analytic
philosopher. To be sure, the talk of x and y is perfectly understandable, and
the linguistic analyst appeals righteously to the normal understanding of
ordinary people. But in reality, we understand each other only through whole
areas of misunderstanding and contradiction. The real universe of ordinary
language is that of the struggle for existence. It is indeed an ambiguous,
vague, obscure universe, and is certainly in need of clarification. Moreover,
such clarification may well fulfil a therapeutic function, and if philosophy
would become therapeutic, it would really come into its own." [Ibid.,
p.160.]
Marcuse has
in fact made a valid a point here, as I have argued
elsewhere. Having said that, this defect is easily rectified. As
noted earlier, unless we understand simple talk, we stand no chance with more
complex exchanges. What is more, we would be fools to look to those whose ideas
don't work anyway, or which imply that
change is impossible. And we would be even more foolish to look to the
obscure language Hegel uses to tell us anything about language. It is certainly
true that, for example, the parable of the parable of the builders in the
Philosophical Investigations
(on this, see Rhees (1970b)) looks like it pictures cardboard cut-outs of
human beings, and much of Wittgenstein's work is a-historical. But
that is because he was concerned to investigate logical grammar, which, as I
noted above, is a permanent feature of language. Having said that, a
return to Hegel in order to provide any insight into actual human beings,
how they talk and think, would be like appealing to astrology to inform
astronomy.
"Philosophy approaches this goal to the
degree to which it frees thought from its enslavement by the established
universe of discourse and behaviour, elucidates the negativity of the
Establishment (its positive aspects are abundantly publicized anyway) and
projects its alternatives. To be sure, philosophy contradicts and projects in
thought only. It is ideology, and this ideological character is the very fate of
philosophy which no scientism and positivism can overcome. Still, its
ideological effort may be truly therapeutic -- to show reality as that which it
really is, and to show that which this reality prevents from being.
"In the totalitarian era, the therapeutic task of philosophy would be a
political task, since the established universe of ordinary language tends to
coagulate into a totally manipulated and indoctrinated universe. Then politics
would appear in philosophy, not as a special discipline or object of analysis,
nor as a special political philosophy, but as the intent of its concepts to
comprehend the unmutilated reality. If linguistic analysis does not contribute
to such understanding; if, instead, it contributes to enclosing thought in the
circle of the mutilated universe of ordinary discourse, it is at best entirely
inconsequential. And, at worst, it is an escape into the non-controversial, the
unreal, into that which is only academically controversial." [Ibid.,
p.160.]
This is a
rather glib sales pitch, but like most advertising it should be taken
with a pinch of salt, for, as we have seen, the only thing that Philosophy
succeeds in generating is distorted language, compounded by confusion, resulting
in
non-sensical and incoherent thought.
But, yes, we should be wary of "indoctrination" and guard against being
"manipulated", but, if so, the accusatory finger should rather be rotated
through a full half circle, and pointed at those who look to boss-class hacks
like Hegel for guidance.
Marcuse
continues in the same vein in Chapter Eight of his book, except his target is
Analytic Philosophy in general, and not so much Wittgenstein. In that chapter,
he focuses on how Analytic Philosophers have handled "Universals". I do not
propose to deal with this chapter in any great detail since I have said
more-or-less all I want to say on this in Essay Three Parts
One and
Two. However, a few paragraphs
require comment:
"The commitment of analytic philosophy to the mutilated reality of thought and
speech shows forth strikingly in its treatment of universals. The problem
was mentioned before, as part of the inherent historical and at the same time
transcendent, general character of philosophic concepts. It now requires a more
detailed discussion. Far from being only an abstract question of epistemology,
or a pseudo-concrete question of language and its use, the question of the
status of universals is at the very centre of philosophic thought. For the
treatment of universals reveals the position of a philosophy in the intellectual
culture -- its historical function." [Ibid.,
p.161.]
We saw in
the aforementioned Essays, that far from dealing with genuine universals
(i.e., general terms/concepts), Traditional Philosophers and DM-theorists
in fact turn them into the Proper Names of
Abstract
Particulars, destroying their capacity to express generality. How
does Marcuse manage to side-step this bear trap? The answer is, he doesn't.
Because of his adoption of traditional forms-of-thought,
he blunders right into it:
"Contemporary analytic philosophy is out to exorcize such 'myths' or
metaphysical 'ghosts' as Mind, Consciousness, Will, Soul, Self, by dissolving
the intent of these concepts into statements on particular identifiable
operations, performances, powers, dispositions, propensities, skills, etc. The
result shows, in a strange way, the impotence of the destruction -- the ghost
continues to haunt. While every interpretation or translation may describe
adequately a particular mental process, an act of imagining what I mean when I
say 'I,' or what the priest means when he says that Mary is a 'good girl,' not a
single one of these reformulations, nor their sum-total, seems to capture or
even circumscribe the full meaning of such terms as Mind, Will, Self, Good.
These universals continue to persist in common as well as 'poetic' usage,
and either usage distinguishes them from the various modes of behaviour or
disposition that, according to the analytic philosopher, fulfil their meaning."
[Ibid.
p.161. Bold emphasis added.]
For Marcuse,
these universals aren't general terms, they are Proper Names of the
aforementioned Abstract Particulars, which vacates them of whatever
generality they might once have had. [The disastrous consequences that
has on our ability to say anything at all were discussed at length in Essay
Three
Part One.]
We will
leave to one side whether or not these 'terms' persist in common usage since
Marcuse offers no evidence that they do. To be sure, ordinary speakers use words
like "mind", "self" and "will" all the time, but it is open to considerable
doubt that when they do so they are referring, or even alluding, to the
artificial 'Universals' of philosophical lore. Certainly, Marcuse offers no
evidence (or argument) that they do. And it is far from clear that anyone else
has managed to do so, either -- least of all those who lionise Marcuse's work.
In fact,
we can draw the opposite conclusion: since ordinary speakers say general
things about whatever it is that they wish to say such things about (for
example, "The boss is a crook", "Tony Blair is a war criminal", "The Nile is
longer than any other river on earth", "Fighting austerity is socialist
priority", or even "Anyone with half a mind should enter politics, since that's
all you need"), they plainly do not refer, or even allude, to the
Abstract Particulars Marcuse focussed upon. If they were to do that,
they wouldn't be able to make such general points.
It could be
objected that Marcuse does offer his readers an argument in support of
the claims he makes about ordinary speech, namely this:
"However, this dissolution itself must be questioned -- not only on behalf of
the philosopher, but on behalf of the ordinary people in whose life and
discourse such dissolution takes place. It is not their own doing and their own
saying: it happens to them and it violates them as they are compelled, by the
'circumstances,' to identify their mind with the mental processes, their self
with the roles and functions which they have to perform in their society. If
philosophy does not comprehend these processes of translation and identification
as societal processes -- i.e., as a mutilation of the mind (and the body)
inflicted upon the individuals by their society -- philosophy struggles only
with the ghost of the substance which it wishes to de-mystify. The mystifying
character adheres, not to the concepts of 'mind,' 'self,' 'consciousness,' etc.
but rather to their behavioural translation. The translation is deceptive
precisely because it translates the concept faithfully into modes of actual
behaviour, propensities, and dispositions and, in so doing, it takes the
mutilated and organized appearances (themselves real enough!) for the reality."
[Ibid.,
p.162. Several typos corrected.]
Here,
Marcuse undoubtedly advances a substantive point about what he thinks
ordinary folk mean by their use of "mind", etc. However, instead of looking at
how we/they actually employ this word, he imposed an a priori
interpretation and structure on it. [For an illuminating lecture on how such
words are used, readers are encouraged to watch
this video of Peter Hacker speaking on the topic.]
This is
doubly unfortunate since one of the books that Marcuse lists in his 'rogues
gallery' is Gilbert Ryle's The Concept of Mind [i.e.,
Ryle (1949a)
-- this links to a PDF], which shows a far greater sensitivity to our complex
use of psychological vocabulary than anything Marcuse and other dialecticians
have yet managed to cobble together -- indeed, as we will see as this Essay
unfolds.
I won't bang
on, but I will end with just two more examples (one taken from Chapter Eight,
and one from earlier in the book):
"The 'whole' that here comes to view
must be cleared from all misunderstanding in terms of an independent entity, of
a 'Gestalt,' and the like. The concept somehow expresses the difference and
tension between potentiality and actuality -- identity in this difference. It
appears in the relation between the qualities (white, hard; but also beautiful,
free, just) and the corresponding concepts (whiteness, hardness, beauty,
freedom, justice). The abstract character of the latter seems to designate the
more concrete qualities as part-realizations, aspects, manifestations of a more
universal and more 'excellent' quality, which is experienced in the
concrete.
"And by virtue of this relation, the
concrete quality seems to represent a negation as well as realization of the
universal. Snow is white but not 'whiteness'; a girl may be beautiful, even a
beauty, but not 'beauty'; a country may be free (in comparison with others)
because its people have certain liberties, but it is not the very embodiment of
freedom. Moreover, the concepts are meaningful only in experienced contrast with
their opposites: white with not white, beautiful with not beautiful. Negative
statements can sometimes be translated into positive ones: 'black' or 'grey' for
'not white,' 'ugly' for not 'beautiful.'
"These formulations do not alter the relation between the abstract concept and
its concrete realizations: the universal concept denotes that which the
particular entity is, and is not. The translation can eliminate the
hidden negation by reformulating the meaning in a non-contradictory proposition,
but the untranslated statement suggests a real want. There is more in the
abstract noun (beauty, freedom) than in the qualities ('beautiful,' 'free')
attributed to the particular person, thing or condition. The substantive
universal intends qualities which surpass all particular experience, but persist
in the mind, not as a figment of imagination nor as more logical possibilities
but as the 'stuff' of which our world consists. No snow is pure white, nor is
any cruel beast or
man all the cruelty man knows -- knows as an almost inexhaustible force in
history and imagination." [Ibid.,
pp.168-69.]
This is in
fact a faint echo of Hegel's reference to what I have called "Spinoza's Greedy
Principle" [SGP] (in Essay Eleven
Part Two) --
i.e., "Every
determination is also a negation". However, this is an unreliable
principle
(even where any sense can be made of it!), not least because it confuses what we
do with words with the means by which we do it. Of course, that move is about as
brainless as confusing, say, a holiday with the aeroplane you might board in
order travel there, or even a map with a trek in the hills! [The serious
weaknesses of the SGP have been exposed in Essay Three
Part One.
They will be more completely revealed in Essay Twelve Part Five, but they are
connected with the points I have made
here.]
Ignoring for
the moment the fact that Marcuse confuses
concepts with words, it isn't even true that:
"the concepts are meaningful only in
experienced contrast with their opposites: white with not white, beautiful with
not beautiful. Negative statements can sometimes be translated into positive
ones: 'black' or 'grey' for 'not white,' 'ugly' for 'not beautiful.'" [Ibid.]
Colour
concepts are meaningful, among other things, because of the
colour octahedron [this links to a PDF] not because we have met in
experience "not-white" (or whatever). If someone has no understanding of colour
words, they can swim in "not-white" all day long for all the good it will do
them. Much the same can be said about the mastery of other words.6a
But, the
above errors are connected with a much deeper logical issue. This brings us to
the final passage from One Dimensional Man that I propose to examine:
"In the classical logic, the judgment
which constituted the original core of dialectical thought was formalised in the
propositional form, 'S is p.' But this form conceals rather than reveals the
basic dialectical proposition, which states the negative character of the
empirical reality. Judged in the light of their essence and idea, men and things
exist as other than they are; consequently thought contradicts that which is
(given), opposes its truth to that of the given reality. The truth envisaged by
thought is the Idea. As such it is, in terms of the given reality, 'mere' Idea,
'mere' essence -- potentiality.
"But the essential potentiality is not
like the many possibilities which are contained in the given universe of
discourse and action; the essential potentiality is of a very different order.
Its realisation involves subversion of the established order, for thinking in
accordance with truth is the commitment to exist in accordance with truth. (In
Plato, the extreme concepts which illustrate this subversion are: death as the
beginning of the philosopher's life, and the
violent liberation from the Cave.) Thus, the subversive character of truth
inflicts upon thought an imperative quality. Logic centres on judgments
which are, as demonstrative propositions, imperatives, -- the predicative 'is'
implies an 'ought'.
"This contradictory, two-dimensional
style of thought is the inner form not only of dialectical logic but of all
philosophy which comes to grips with reality. The propositions which define
reality affirm as true something that is not
(immediately) the case; thus they contradict that which is the case, and they
deny its truth. The affirmative judgment contains a negation which disappears in
the propositional form (S is p). For example, 'virtue is knowledge'; 'justice is
that state in which everyone performs the function for which his nature is best
suited'; 'the perfectly real is the perfectly knowable'...; 'man is free'; 'the
State is the reality of Reason.'
"If these propositions are to be true, then the copula 'is' states an 'ought,' a
desideratum. It judges conditions in which virtue is not knowledge, in
which men do not perform the function for which their nature best suits
them, in which they are not free, etc. Or, the categorical S-p form states that
(S) is not (S); (S) is defined as other-than-itself. Verification of the
proposition involves a
process in fact as well as in thought: (S) must become that which
it is. The categorical statement thus turns into a categorical imperative;
it does not state a fact but the necessity to bring about a fact. For
example, it could be read as follows: man is not (in fact) free, endowed
with inalienable rights, etc., but he ought to be, because he is
free in the eyes of God, by nature, etc." [Ibid.,
pp.110-11. Link added. I have used the on-line text here, and
have corrected any typographical errors I managed to spot.]
We have
already seen that
dialecticians en masse have bought into a
defective theory of
predication,
so it is no surprise to see Marcuse following suite. His claim that the
traditional logic of subject (S) and predicate (p) "conceals
rather than reveals the basic dialectical proposition, which states the negative
character of the empirical reality" may or may not be true --, but if it
isn't, then that is all to the good since "reality" has neither a "negative"
nor a positive "character". In fact, it is only because Marcuse has limited
himself to a very narrow range of examples that his assertions might seem (to
some) to be plausible. As was noted in Essay Three
Part One:
For example, how would the following be
classified?
H1: Every sailor loves a girl who
reminds him of anyone other than his mother.
H2: Anyone who knows Marx's work will
also know that he is second to none in his analysis of all the economic forces
operating in Capitalism, and most of those constitutive of other Modes of
Production.
H3: Any prime factor of an even number
between two and one hundred is less than a composite number not equal to but
greater than fifty.
H4: Some who admire most of those who do
not despise themselves often avoid sitting opposite any who criticise those who
claim membership of the minority break-away faction of the Socrates
Appreciation Society.
H5: Today, Blair met some of those who
think his policy in Iraq is a betrayal of his few remaining socialist
principles.
Are these universal, particular,
negative, or positive? Are they judgements or propositions? But these are the
sort of propositions that feature in mathematics and the sciences all the time
(to say nothing of everyday speech -- excepting perhaps H4). Indeed, the serious
limitations of the restrictive old logic, with its incapacity to handle complex
sentences in mathematics, inspired Frege to recast the entire discipline in its
modern form over a hundred and twenty years ago. [On this, see
Essay Four.]
Some might
object that these aren't the sort of "judgements" with which 'traditional
logic', or even Hegel, concerned itself/himself, but that is precisely the
point. It is only because Marcuse, along with other dialecticians, has relied on
a
bowdlerised form of the (already antiquated) Aristotelian Logic
extant in Hegel's day that his argument even seems to gain a slender
toe-hold. [On this, see Kenny (2006b), pp11-13.]
However, let
us assume for the moment that Marcuse's analysis is impeccable. Even then,
what he alleges would still be incorrect:
"In the classical logic, the judgment
which constituted the original core of dialectical thought was formalised in the
propositional form, 'S is p.' But this form conceals rather than reveals the
basic dialectical proposition, which states the negative character of the
empirical reality. Judged in the light of their essence and idea, men and things
exist as other than they are; consequently thought contradicts that which is
(given), opposes its truth to that of the given reality. The truth envisaged by
thought is the Idea. As such it is, in terms of the given reality, 'mere' Idea,
'mere' essence -- potentiality.
"...Or, the categorical S-p form states
that (S) is not (S); (S) is defined as other-than-itself. Verification of
the proposition involves a
process in fact as well as in thought: (S) must become that which
it is. The categorical statement thus turns into a categorical imperative;
it does not state a fact but the necessity to bring about a fact. For
example, it could be read as follows: man is not (in fact) free, endowed
with inalienable rights, etc., but he ought to be, because be is
free in the eyes of God, by nature, etc." [Ibid.]
Clearly, this argument depends on "men and things" each having an essence, which
Marcuse simply takes for granted. Of course, to mystics like Hegel and
Aristotle, it seemed clear that "men and things" did indeed have an "essence"
(which was for them something that had been decided upon by 'god'), but this is
just another example of
ruling-class ideology
dominating their thought.
But, even if
that allegation were itself incorrect, what is Marcuse going to say about
propositions like the following?
M1: Human beings are mortal.
M2: Tables and chairs are often made of
wood.
Do these
"oppose" the "truth of reality"? Are we to assume that humans are 'really'
immortal, and that they oughtn't be like this -- i.e., mortal? Or,
that ordinary objects are in 'reality' non-material, and that there is an
'imperative' here which means that we should all struggle to make them material?
If not, Marcuse's analysis can't be relied upon to reveal 'the truth' even about
mundane matters of fact -- which shouldn't surprise us in view of the preceding
paragraphs -- that is, considering the
defective
logic Marcuse appropriated and then put to misuse in order to arrive at most
of his rather odd conclusions.
Finally, if what Marcuse asserts were correct:
"consequently thought contradicts that
which is (given), opposes its truth to that of the given reality",
then this
'thought' would itself 'contradict' reality. And, if that were so, it
would mean that in reality there are no such 'contradictions' --
otherwise Marcuse's own comments wouldn't represent things as they 'really
are'. As we have seen
many times already,
Diabolical Logic like this soon self-destructs.
It is time
we left this prime example of boss-class confusion and turned instead to
consider several others who have drifted off into deep waters.
A more
recent swipe at Wittgenstein comes from my old friend Ben Watson
(in a book that is openly contemptuous of academic standards -- a dismissive
approach that Marx himself would have criticised, to say nothing of Lenin and
Trotsky):
"Take Ludwig Wittgenstein. Deprived of
the benefit of Trotsky's optical materialism, his commitment to Aristotelian
formal logic drives him into madness…. Wittgenstein's 'play of the imagination'
is incipient schizophrenia, the confusion of reality with symbolic systems used
to represent it…. The 'logical' analytic philosophers, whose attempt to live in
the flatland of symbolic representation, drove themselves crazy." [Watson
(1998), p.121.]
To be fair,
the first set of dots in the above passage conceals the omission of a long
quotation from Wittgenstein's
Philosophical Investigations -- which Watson then, alas predictably,
proceeds to misrepresent, as we will see.
[FL = Formal Logic; AFL = Aristotelian
Formal Logic; LOI = Law Of Identity; LOC = Law Of Contradiction; LEM = Law Of
Excluded Middle; HM= Historical Materialism.]
The
reference to Trotsky's "optical materialism" is no less
unfortunate. As I demonstrated in
Essay Six: If we are more accurate
and honest, Trotsky's "optical materialism" rather more closely resembles
'Dialectical Myopia'.
Even so, the
presence of these relatively minor flaws shouldn't detract from the book's more
egregious errors.
First, as
far as logic is concerned, Wittgenstein was a Fregean
(even if he adopted a critical but deferential stance toward his work).7In fact, Watson is invited to try to
find a single reference in Wittgenstein's entire corpus (of over
five million words) that commits him to AFL, or any aspect of it.8
Indeed, Wittgenstein's first published work, as short review of Coffey's two
volume logic text, he had this to say:
"In no branch of learning can an author disregard
the results of honest research with so much impunity as he can in Philosophy and
Logic. To this circumstance we owe the publication of such a book as Mr Coffey's
Science of Logic:
and only as a typical example of the work of many logicians of to-day does this
book deserve consideration. The author's Logic is that of the scholastic
philosophers, and he makes all their mistakes -- of course with the usual
references to Aristotle. (Aristotle, whose name is taken so much in vain by our
logicians, would turn in his grave if he knew that so many Logicians know no
more about Logic to-day than he did 2,000 years ago). The author has not taken
the slightest notice of the great work of the modern mathematical logicians --
work which has brought about an advance in Logic comparable only to that which
made Astronomy out of Astrology, and Chemistry out of Alchemy....
"[Summarising Coffey's errors -- RL]:
"[1] The
author believes that all propositions are of the subject predicate form....
"[3] He
confounds the copula 'is' with the word 'is' expressing identity....
"The worst of such books is that they
prejudice sensible people against the study of Logic...."
[Wittgenstein (1913a),
pp.2-3.]
So, while
the above shows he had great respect for Aristotle, he had much greater respect
for Frege and Russell's mathematical logic, indeed, as he said in his second
published work:
"I do not
wish to judge how far my efforts coincide with those of other philosophers.
Indeed, what I have written here makes no claim to novelty in detail, and the
reason why I give no sources is that it is a matter of indifference to me
whether the thoughts that I have had have been anticipated by someone else.
"I will only mention that I am indebted to Frege's great works and of the
writings of my friend Mr Bertrand Russell for much of the stimulation of my
thoughts." [Wittgenstein
(1972), p3.]
Here, he described Frege's work as
"great",
a term he applied to no other Philosopher or Logician.
Second, far
from confusing symbols with reality, Wittgenstein was in fact one of the few
leading Philosophers in the entire history of the subject consistently to strive
to do the opposite, arguing that most of what passes for Traditional
Philosophy was guilty of this very failing (a point that has been reiterated
throughout this site). Hence, it is a little rich of Watson to raise this
particular point when he himself is an avid fan of dialectics, whose theorists
constantly do precisely what he accuses Wittgenstein of doing (substantiated
here and throughout this site, but especially in Essays Three Parts One
and Two, and Twelve
Part One).
Finally, and with respect to the passage
quoted above (from the Philosophical Investigations, aimed at discussing
the LOI), Watson has clearly missed the point. Onthevery same
page, Wittgenstein himself admits the following about his earlier approach:
"My symbolic expression [in the Tractatus] was really a mythological
description of the use of a rule." [Wittgenstein
(1958), p.85e, §221. (This links
to a PDF.)]
Now, even the most superficial reading
of the
Philosophical Investigations will reveal that Wittgenstein is arguing
against the mythology surrounding our use of symbols -- including his own
earlier misdemeanours in this respect --, that is, against what I have
called the "fetishisation
of language".9
This is one reason why Wittgenstein
himself took the LOI to task in both his earlier and later periods. On
this issue, he argued that those who regard this 'law' as a particularly deep
sort of truth
misconstrue a rule for the use of certain symbols/words as if it were a
scientific or metaphysical truth about reality. Indeed, and as we have seen,
this is precisely
how Trotsky, for example, misinterpreted the LOI, even if, following Hegel, he
declared this 'law' always false -- or, perhaps, both false and
true, or, at least, not always unconditionally true. It is this tradition
that Wittgenstein sought to undermine: a pattern of thought that Hegel, Trotsky
and other DM-theorists share with card-carrying defenders of a
ruling-class view
of the world.
One of the main aims of Wittgenstein's
method was to show that philosophical theses (like those that are based on a
traditional reading of the LOI, the LOC, and the LEM) were predicated on a
systematic misconstrual of rules as if they were substantive truths about the
world. To be sure, Wittgenstein might not have concurred with the following
observation, but it is worth making all the same: such rules become fetishised
when alienated forms-of-thought encourage theorists to mistake contingent
features of language for necessary relations, objects or processes in reality
(i.e., with all those underlying, mysterious "essences").
Hence, what had once been the product of
the social relations between human beings (i.e., language) became inverted and
then systematically misconstrued as the real relations between things -- and, in
the case of the LOI, the real relation between "a thing and itself" -- or,
between two or more events/states of affairs.
Of course, this misidentification had
always been taken seriously by Traditional Thinkers, and not just in relation to
the LOI. Because of this it was easy for them to project this error back onto
nature to give spurious 'objectivity' to their theories about 'Ultimate
Reality'. In the Ideal World they had conjured into existence, the
socially-sanctioned relationships between words were mistaken for the real
relationships between things, or even those things themselves. The material
world was now interpreted through this
distorted,
idealised view of language, and in such a way that contingent features of
discourse were regarded as objective features of 'Reality'. In this way, these
distorted linguistic forms came to determine the fundamental nature of
'Reality', which was in fact just a projection of fetishised discourse back onto
it! [We saw this was also the case with Marcuse,
above,
and we will see it several more times throughout the rest of this Essay.]
Even though dialecticians have tried to
distance themselves from Idealist moves like these, by means of their invention
of scientific-sounding
'philosophical reasoning' -- through which they attempt to argue that the LOI,
the LEM and the LOC are empirically false while being, in some sense,
'ideally'/'abstractly' true
-- these moves only succeed in reduplicating the 'problems' with which they
began, as we saw in Essays
Four,
Five,
Six
and Eight Part
Three.
If, for example, the usual
interpretation of the LOI (as a 'necessary'/metaphysical truth) is in fact the
result of a confusion over the use of certain symbols, then the standard
DM-criticism of that 'Law' will only ever be self-defeating. That is because
that critique is directed against a mythological representation of a rule of
language,
not against an empirical falsehood (or even an 'ideal'/'abstract' truth).
Indeed, as we saw in Essay Six, such a ham-fisted 'attack' on the LOI cannot
succeed because it is aimed at a mirage; hence an 'attack' like this will
always backfire on those held in thrall to this mythological picture. That is
because this wrong-headed approach undermines the meaning of the words used to
that end -- e.g., "same", "equal", "exact", "identical", and "different". The
result is that anyone foolish enough to stray down that path will only ever
succeed in vitiating their own use of these very words.
And this is precisely what we witnessed
earlier in connection with Trotsky's (and derivatively, Hegel's)
'analysis' of the
LOI; any attempt to undermine that 'law' cannot fail to undermine the
application of the terms used in that very 'attack'.
Hence, a misplaced assault on the LOI is
forced to employ symbols whose own identities (and hence denotations) are
simultaneously called into question and not called into question. That
is, this approach aims to show how limited this 'law' is, but its execution
requires this 'law' to be valid so that the symbols it uses don't change while
the argument is being prosecuted. In which case, the argument is entirely
misconceived, since, if, per impossible,
it were valid all the words an erstwhile critic must use would (as phenomenal
objects) cease to be identical from moment to moment, which would mean that the
following hackneyed 'dialectical' criticisms of the 'equality' of two letter "A"s
would fall flat:
"[T]he first of [the universal Laws of
Thought], the maxim of Identity, reads: Everything is identical with itself, A =
A…." [Hegel (1975), p.167.]
"In this remark, I will consider in more
detail identity as the law of identity which is usually adduced as the first law
of thought.
"This proposition in its positive
expression A = A is, in the first instance, nothing more than the expression of
an empty
tautology." [Hegel (1999), p.413.]
"Abstract Identity (a = a…) is
likewise inapplicable in organic nature. The plant, the animal, every cell is at
every moment of its life identical with itself and yet becoming distinct from
itself….The law of identity in the old metaphysical sense is the
fundamental law of the old outlook: a = a." [Engels (1954), pp.214-15.]
"The 'fundamental laws of thinking' are
considered to be three in number: 1) The Law of Identity… [which] states that 'A
is A' or A = A…." [Plekhanov (1908), p.89.]
"…Hegel elucidates the one-sidedness,
the incorrectness of the 'law of identity' (A = A)…." [Lenin (1961), p.134.]
"The Aristotelian logic of the simple
syllogism starts from the proposition that 'A' is equal to 'A'. This postulate
is accepted as an axiom for a multitude of practical human actions and
elementary generalisations. But in reality 'A' is not equal to 'A'." [Trotsky
(1971, p.63.]
"Formal Logic starts from the
proposition that A is always equal to A. We know that this law of identity
contains some measure of truth…. Now…when we go to reality and look for evidence
of the truth of the proposition: A equals A…we find that the opposite of this
axiom is far closer to the truth." [Novack
(1971), pp.32-33.]
"Formal Logic asserts: 'A is A'.
Dialectical Logic is not saying 'A is not-A'…. It says: A is indeed A, but A is
also not-A precisely so far as the proposition 'A is A' is not a tautology but
has real content." [Lefebvre (1968), p.41.]
"The Law of identity is usually
expressed in the form, A is A. That is, each thing is identical with itself."
[Somerville (1946), p.183.]
"The Aristotelian conception of the laws
basic to correct thinking may be stated as follows: 1. Law of Identity: Each
existence is identical with itself. A is A…." [Somerville (1967), pp.44-45.]
"Classical, Aristotelian logic takes as
its fundamental premise the Law of Identity, the statement that a thing is
identical with itself. Expressed in a formula: A is A…. In Aristotle's formal
logic A is A, and never non-A. In Hegel's dialectics A is A as well as non-A."
[Baghavan (1987), pp.75-76.]
"The biggest contradiction of all lies
in the fundamental premises of formal logic itself…. The basic laws…are:
1) The law of Identity ('A' = 'A')…."
[Woods and Grant (1995), pp.90-91.]
"Dialectics, or the logic of motion, is
distinct from formal or static logic. Formal logic is based on three fundamental
laws:
"(a) The law of identity: A is equal to
A; a thing is always equal to itself." [Mandel (1979), p.160.]
"The laws of logic are based on two main
propositions. The first is that of identity or of self-conformity. The
proposition very simply states: 'A is A,' that is every concept is equal to
itself. A man is a man, a hen is a hen, a potato is a potato. This proposition
forms one basis of logic." [Thalheimer (1936), pp.88.]
"[In FL] things are defined statically,
according to certain fixed properties -– colour, weight, size, and so on. This
is denoted by the expression 'A is equal to A'." [Rees (1998a), p.272.]
If two such letters are "never
equal" to one another, then sentences stand no chance.
In practice this means that no one --
not Hegel, not Engels, not Plekhanov, not Lenin, not Trotsky, not Mao... --
would have access to identically the same message that they had committed
to paper the previous day, let alone those written by others seventy, eighty, or
one hundred and eighty years earlier, since, on this account, there would be
no such thing.
But, critics who have arrived at the
same conclusion as Trotsky (or Hegel) about the LOI must clearly have
done just something their theory says cannot be done. They must have access
to the exact message they had committed to paper -- which message now
tells them there can be no such thing!
Clearly, this undermines any conclusions
such critics might draw -- but not the LOI. Indeed, that 'law' (or
rather this rule of language) will have just been used, and must always be used,
in this charade aimed at to deriving this self-defeating result. Hence,
their own implicit (or explicit) use of identity -- in this instance, involving
the identity of symbols, meanings and the use of language over many generations
-- to criticise the 'law' under scrutiny counts as
a practical refutation of that very criticism! With that, their attack on
the LOI self-destructs, which is, of course, also part of the reason why so many
'dialectical theses' so readily collapse into incoherence -- as, indeed, we saw
in Essay Six.
[The "relative stability" defence has
been defused here.]
As
Wittgenstein noted, we can't get outside language (and we can't even try)
in order to state 'philosophical truths',
or those which masquerade as particularly deep
'philosophical truths' about discourse, let alone about 'Reality'.
By implication, this can't be done
either with the more radical aim of undermining the application of
fundamental rules of language (such as those expressed by the LOI and the LOC).
Anyone attempting to do this will find that they first have to employ these self
same rules in order to undermine them, which will, naturally, fatally damage
that attack. And, that is why theorists can't even try to challenge
logical features/rules of language like these.
[This is a summary of three much longer
arguments found
here,
here
and
here
(where I also respond to one or two obvious objections).]
Nevertheless, in a later part of the same book, Watson offered his readers the
following thoughts:
"The radical democracy of Voloshinov's
linguistics is a model for any theory of the superstructure. It stems from the
fact that he does not abstract speech from its actual use in society.
This is the very opposite of philosophers who build a system by wondering what
it means to stare at their desk. It is a slap in the face for cretins who think
it is clever to read Wittgenstein." [Watson (1998), p.334. Bold emphasis added.]
However, if these "cretins" have read
their Wittgenstein with the same 'careful' attention to detail that certain
comrades have devoted to the same task (no irony intended) then this epithet is
well-deserved. To hammer the point home, Watson very helpfully provided his
readers with an example of Voloshinov's careful use ofordinary speech
in this further quotation from the latter's book:
"The separation of word meaning from
evaluation inevitably deprives meaning of its place in the living social process
(where meaning is always permeated with value judgement), to its being
ontologized and transformed into ideal Being divorced from the historical
process of Becoming….
"Meaning -- an abstract self-identical
element -- is subsumed under theme and torn apart by theme's living
contradictions so as to return in the shape of a new meaning with a fixity and
self-identity only for the while, just as it had before." [Voloshinov (1973),
pp.105-06, quoted in ibid., pp.334-35.]
Now, I'm
sure Watson can clearly recall the last time he heard ordinary folk talking like
this at work, down the pub or even on a picket line, discussing how the bosses
are always "ontologizing" their jobs, or downsizing them so that the number of
operatives is no longer "self-identical" with whatever it had been a month
earlier. In fact, observers of everyday conversations regularly note how it is
nigh on impossible to stop working people constantly talking about "ideal
Being", "theme" and "Becoming".
Indeed, and
on a personal note, I can vividly recall selling revolutionary papers alongside
Ben in XXXX in the late 1980s -- how we happily shouted catchy slogans about
"Being", "Becoming" and "theme". We definitely sold a record number of papers as
a result.
Cheap
debating points? Perhaps so. But, Watson will need to research his work a little
more carefully if he hopes to substantiate the allegations he levelled against
Wittgenstein -- or, indeed, if he wants to establish his claim that Wittgenstein
is at all representative of twentieth century
Analytic
Philosophy.
In fact,
Wittgenstein's method was, and still is, ignored by the vast majority of
Analytic Philosophers (and by practically all professional Philosophers).10
Even when his approach was slightly more 'in vogue', as it were, only a tiny
minority of Analytic Philosophers fully embraced it. One reason for this
is that in his later work Wittgenstein insisted on using the vernacular
wherever possible -- unlike, one might add, Voloshinov and Hegel -- and,
dare I say it, Watson. Another reason is that his method reveals how
non-sensical, confused and
useless Traditional
Philosophy
is -- which approach would bring the entire subject to its long overdue end.
In that
case, naturally, the fact that professional Philosophers almost en masse
ignore Wittgenstein's method is no more surprising than the fact that members of
the UK Royal Family aren't prominent Republicans.
An apposite
quotation from Larry Laudan (although aimed at French Philosophers) springs to
mind, here:
"Foucault
has benefited from that curious Anglo-American view that if a Frenchman talks
nonsense it must rest on a profundity which is too deep for a speaker of English
to comprehend." [Laudan (1977), p.241. I owe this reference to Kitcher (1998),
p.55. Link added.]
If
Foucault's name and the phrase "a Frenchman" are replaced by "Voloshinov" and "a
sort-of-Bolshevik", respectively, then this might help explain what prompted
Watson to write a 400-page book eulogising similar "profundities",
and worse.
Finally,
this almost unseemly dismissal of a fellow comrade's work in fact finds ample
justification in the subtitle Watson gave his book (Art, Class and Cleavage):
viz.: Quantulumcunque Concerning Materialist Esthetix. A
dog's dinner of a title, for sure -- but a genuine slap in the face for
those who think it clever, or helpful, to confuse revolutionary socialism with
the intellectual equivalent of rabies.
This brings us to
Voloshinov. Recently, his work has been reviewed by a number of comrades: John
Parrington, Marnie Holborow, Sean Doherty, Dave McNally, and Chik Collins.11
Because what Voloshinov 'appears' to have said about language flatly contradicts
much that is contained in the Essays published at this site -- and in view of
several of the unfavourable things said about his work above -- detailed
comments about his work are clearly in order.12
Marnie
Holborow summarised one of Voloshinov's main insights in the following way:
"A fundamental element of Volosinov's
critique of abstract objectivism is his view of language being able to generate
new meanings…. This generative quality arises from the fact that language is
inseparable from its context and its users…. The meanings and different
connotations for a word or a piece of language are constructed by the speakers,
who give each utterance their particular evaluative accent.
"Let us take an example…. [:]
I'm hungry conjures up a general concept. When, however, we look at
different contexts in which the phrase might be used, we see how the evaluative
accent changes everything. A child saying this to her mother might be
indirectly a request for the mother to get her something, an enquiry about what
there is to eat, or a statement that she just feels like something to eat.
One adult saying it to another might mean that it's time for lunch and be a
suggestion that they go somewhere to eat…. In each case the context is not
merely the gloss on the meaning but constitutes different meanings --
different inevery aspect…." [Holborow (1999), p.28. Bold emphasis
added. Italic emphasis in the original On Holborow's spelling of
Voloshinov's name, see
here.]
Unfortunately, Holborow has chosen what Philosophers of language call an
avowal, which possess rather unique features. So, it is far from clear
that any useful, or reliable, generalisations across every use of
language can be inferred from them. What, we might ask, is the 'evaluative
content' of any of the following, if someone utters them:
U1: New York is bigger than Athens.
U2:
Voloshinov wrote Marxism and the Philosophy of Language.
U3:
A fundamental element of Volosinov's
critique of abstract objectivism is his view of language being able to generate
new meanings.
Furthermore, when Holborow says that the sentence "I'm hungry conjures up a
general concept", it isn't at all clear what she means. What precisely is
"general" about it? Unless we suppose, perhaps, that several people utter this
sentence all at once as part of a synchronised plea for food, say -- or one
person suffering from a multiple personality disorder comes out with it -- no
generality seems to be implied here at all. I think she might mean that
this sentence can mean many things. We will return to consider this possibility
later.
Perhaps Holborow also
meant that this sentence when considered in isolation from an occasion of its
use possesses certain non-specific general features -- or, that maybe the
sentence itself might
suggest them to us. What these are Holborow unfortunately failed to say;
nor does she indicate why they are general, or, indeed, why they are
concepts,
as opposed to propositions, requests or orders, for example.13
Moreover,
Holborow's claim that utterances have an "evaluative accent" is puzzling, too,
since it is unclear what evaluation
has to do with the type of request she herself considered. Had she
interpreted such a plea (i.e., "I'm hungry") as the equivalent of something
like: "I like food", or "Food is sacred" -- or even "Food is theft" -- her point
might have been a little clearer. But, what sort of "evaluative accent" does a
plain and simple request for food possess or suggest? Again, Holborow failed to
tell us. [To be sure, Voloshinov does make some attempt to say; his comments
will be examined presently.] Even less obvious is how an "evaluative accent"
could affect the meaning
of any of the words used -- as opposed to altering what a speaker might
consequentially, or incidentally, intend to convey by means of them. As
we shall see, these two aren't at all the same.
Of course,
Holborow is simply summarising Voloshinov's view:
"Any word used in actual speech
possesses not only theme and meaning in the referential, or content, sense of
these words, but also value judgement: i.e., all referential contents produced
in living speech are said or written in conjunction with a specific evaluative accent. There is no such thing as
a word without evaluative accent." [Voloshinov (1973), p.103. Italic
emphasis in the original.]13a
Voloshinov offered no proof of these rather sweeping statements, and none of the
comrades listed above have even thought to fill in the evidential gaps, in the
meantime. Nevertheless, he then proceeded to connect "evaluative accent" with
"expressive intonation", but he failed to say why the latter are in any way
"evaluative". The same can be said about Holborow's commitment to this idea. To
be sure, Voloshinov quoted a long passage from
Dostoyevsky to clarify his point, adding:
"All six 'speech performances' by the
artisans [in the quoted passage from Dostoyevsky -- RL] are different, despite
the fact that they all consisted of one and the same word. The conversation was
conducted in intonations expressing the value judgements of the speakers. These
value judgements and their corresponding intonations were wholly determined by
the immediate social situation of the talk...." [Ibid., p.104.]
But, is this
true of every utterance? If it is, then, as noted above, Voloshinov
neglected to include the data establishing this for a fact.
Despite
this, what Voloshinov says is highly implausible in itself. What, for instance,
is the "evaluative accent" of this response (and many more like it):
Questioner: "What can you tell me about
the River Nile?"
Maybe these
do contain, or imply, an "evaluative accent"; who can say? But, until we are
told what an "evaluative accent" is, little more can be done with such vague
claims.
Nevertheless, Holborow also argued that different contexts of utterance (or, is
it the different "evaluative accents" of each utterance?) constitute entirely
new meanings each time, which are "different in every aspect". Once more,
Holborow failed to explain how the same words could take on these new meanings
in this way. To be sure, different connotations can be promoted by
prosody (i.e., intonation, rhythm, or stress, etc., as Voloshinov himself
noted). For example: "I'm hungry" suggests something different from "I'm
hungry". But, even then, these words still don't change their meaning --
why would anyone use them if they meant something different? What changes
here is what a speaker might hope to convey by the use of familiar words
accentuated differently. Otherwise, speakers might just as well say "I'm cold"
and 'mean' the same as someone else might 'mean' by their use of "I'm hungry".
Again, it could be that an injudicious choice of examples has distorted
Holborow's conclusions, since the sentence "I'm hungry" uses an
indexical
expression (viz., "I'm") -- that is, this particular sentence depends for
its incidental import on one of its words being relativised to a time, a
speaker, a place and possibly also an occasion.
On the other
hand, from what little else the above passage says, it is reasonably clear that
Holborow probably doesn't have this aspect of sentence/word use in mind
-- i.e., pointing out the obvious fact that as each individual utters the words
"I'm hungry" the "I" could relate to someone new, changing the import of what
was said by adverting to a different speaker. That is because the mere fact
that one person might utter it one minute, and another the next, doesn't warrant
the conclusion Holborow draws that these words convey a different meaning "in
every aspect", each time.
Perhaps this
is being too hasty? If so, it is worth considering Holborow's claims more
closely. Just like each 20 cent coin, or each 50 pence coin is a
tokens of the same type
(they are all examples of the same coin -- assuming they aren't counterfeit),
so, each inscription, or each utterance of "I'm hungry" is a token of the same
sentence type. Hence, Holborow might be claiming that different
tokens of the same type utterance, "I'm hungry", could be used to say
different things, and that the meaning of each of these speech acts is
entirely dissimilar, since the occasions of utterance can't fail to vary,
accordingly:
"A
child saying this to her mother might be indirectly a request for the
mother to get her something, an enquiry about what there is to eat, or a
statement that she just feels like something to eat. One adult saying it to
another might mean that it’s time for lunch and be a suggestion that they go
somewhere to eat…." [Ibid., p.28.]
Anyway, what
Holborow then goes on to say doesn't seem at all correct:
"In each case the context is not merely
the gloss on the meaning but constitutes different meanings --
different in every aspect…." [Ibid., p.28. Bold emphasis added.]
Holborow can't seriously be suggesting that words have new meanings ("different
in every aspect") each time they are uttered. If she were, then these
particular words (i.e., "I'm hungry") would be of no use to anyone, since no one
would be able understand what they (the words) meant from occasion to occasion.
Well,
perhaps these 'new meanings' could be inferred from the
intentions of each speaker, or from the context of each utterance?
But, in that case, Holborow's own suggested translations (i.e., that "I'm
hungry" means "It's time for lunch", etc) would surely be subject to the
very same
equivocation, in that it, too, would be occasion-sensitive and in need of
its own translation -- just as each of these new translations would, as
well, and so on. Naturally, this would imply that the supposed translation
(i.e., "It's time for lunch") could itself mean "I'm bored with this
conversation", or "I can't see the point of this", or..., which in turn could
mean, "I wonder what's for tea", or "I can't make out what she is saying", which
themselves could mean…, and so on.
Indeed, when
Holborow wrote:
"A
child saying this to her mother might be indirectly a request for the
mother to get her something, an enquiry about what there is to eat, or a
statement that she just feels like something to eat. One adult saying it to
another might mean that it's time for lunch and be a suggestion that they go
somewhere to eat…" [Ibid., p.28.],
maybe she
really meant something different, too? Given her own intentions, she
could have meant: "I think Voloshinov is correct and I want you to agree
with me". In that case, "I think Voloshinov is correct and I want you to agree
with me" and:
"A
child saying this to her mother might be indirectly a request for the
mother to get her something, an enquiry about what there is to eat, or a
statement that she just feels like something to eat. One adult saying it to
another might mean that it's time for lunch and be a suggestion that they go
somewhere to eat…" [Ibid., p.28.]
would
be synonymous!
If
intending something can change the usual meaning of a word to the extent
that totally different passages and sentences become synonymous, then
each and every one of our words/sentences could mean anything whatsoever. Hence,
in this case, not only would "I'm hungry" mean the
same as "It's time for lunch", it could mean the same as "I think
Voloshinov is correct and I want you to agree with me" -- as well as "I'm not
the least bit hungry". Who can say?
Furthermore,
the (above) employment here of these very same words (by me, RL) implies that
all three passages must now mean: "I (RL) disagree, and think Voloshinov is
seriously confused", since that is what I intended to convey by this passage of
text. This implies that all three sentences must mean at least two or more
totally different things!
I have now used four sentences to
mean "I (RL) am right and Holborow is wrong". Hence, if Holborow were right,
these must all mean the same thing (viz.: "I (RL) am right and Holborow is
wrong"), even while all these (now) five sentences could mean
something entirely different if someone else used them to advertise, say, the
sale of a garden gnome on
E-Bay!
In that case, by
extrapolation, these words could now be led by the nose to mean anything
whatsoever -- and hence nothing at all. [That is, these words would have
no intrinsic meaning.13b]
Of course, since I (RL) intended that all these passages should end up
this way (i.e., that they should mean nothing), that
must mean my use of these sentences indicates that they do indeed mean nothing.
So, when I use Holborow's words, they mean what I want them to mean, not what
she intended -- i.e., nothing
at all!
Is anyone convinced by
any of this? They should be if they agree with Holborow -- or, perhaps even with
Humpty Dumpty from
Alice Through the Looking Glass.14
It could be
argued that the
context of utterance will succeed in eliminating many of these fanciful
'translations'; unfortunately, as we will see, that isn't even remotely correct.
Once more,
therefore, if the words "I'm hungry" do
in fact
mean the same as "It's time for lunch", why do we need the
translation?
As competent speakers of English (or whatever language in which this sentence
had been expressed), we would all know what this sentence says. For example,
who
(saving small children, those suffering from some sort of brain disease, and
those ignorant of English/some-other-language) needs to have the word "puppy"
translated as "infant dog" each time it is used? Indeed, only someone with a
rather poor grasp of their native tongue would need to have a perfectly ordinary
sentence translated into another perfectly ordinary sentence (unless, of course,
the former contained a coded message of some sort), for them to be able to
understand it.
Again, if
all such sentences required translation, then why not also those that are
offered as their 'real' meaning? If we need to be told what "I'm hungry"
really means, how can we be sure we understand, say, "It's time for lunch"?
Perhaps, as already noted, the replacement/translated sentence means something
else, too? On the other hand, if the replacement sentence "It's time for lunch"
is already understood, and needs no further sentence to make it clear,
why isn't that the case with "I'm hungry?" Why is the first in need of
translation and not the second?
It is worth
stressing here that I am not denying that speakers can often intend to convey a
message that it is time for lunch by saying "I'm hungry"; what is being
questioned is whether such an intention can change what the words in "I'm
hungry" actually mean.
Of course,
Holborow isn't trying to translate one sentence into another; she is offering an
analysis of the various uses toward which we put language -- amplified by the
observation that discourse is context-dependent. This topic will be examined in
more detail
below.
The fact
that several speakers can intend to produce different effects by the use of
typographically identical words/sentences depends on the words used having
relatively fixed meanings already. If that weren't so, then, as noted
above, with respect to a particular utterance (i.e., each physical speech
act), any
words would do. The child in Holborow's example could say: "My socks are wet"
and 'mean' that she wants her mother to get her some food -- or that her
mother should join the Foreign Legion, or that this week's TV Guide
had been delivered, or that her goldfish has died, or, indeed,
anything whatsoever. If context determined the (public) meaning of our words,
all of these would be possible. Why choose these words if any will
do? Could it be because of what these words already mean, and all
competent English speakers know what they mean, and they/we all agree over what
they mean?
Plainly,
Holborow failed to consider the most obvious and plausible option here:
What if "I'm hungry" is in fact being used to communicate the same thing
each time, or most of the time? What if it is being used to indicate that the
speaker is indeed hungry (period)? In that case, wouldn't we be tempted to say
that a perfectly ordinary act of communication had occurred? Isn't this
how we ordinarily address and comprehend each other? Why is this so
mysterious? Why do we need to be bamboozled into thinking otherwise? Why do
we need to eulogise the work of someone (i.e, Voloshinov) who has made something
that is patently obvious seem hopelessly obscure?
Even on
Holborow's account, we certainly can't rule out the possibility that "I'm
hungry" might be being used to say the same thing many times over. On the other
hand, if this possibility could be ruled out, and anything could mean
anything (and was dependent on context), no one else would be able to
indicate, for instance, that it was time for lunch by the use of the words "I'm
hungry" -- including Holborow and her own translated suggestion to that
effect! This is because, if meaning were that sensitive to each
occasion of use -- to the extent that the meaning of what had been said changed
in "every aspect", every time --, then no one else could ever utter "I'm
hungry" and mean "It's time for lunch". In fact, no one else could ever make
the point that has just been made by me in the last sentence, using the same
words in just
that way in any other sentence! Once used, the meaning of any given set
of words, or sentence, would have been allused up, so to speak;
and any words uttered thereby would have to be forever sealed away in the
archives never to see the light of day again.
Presumably,
therefore, we aren't
being asked to suppose that once these words have been used in this
uncontroversial manner to indicate that the speaker was indeed hungry, no other
speaker would ever be able to use them this way again. Holborow can't possibly
mean that. But, if not, what is the force of her claim that each
utterance changes meaning in "every
aspect"? If in this clear, everyday example this doesn't happen, and at
least two utterances of the same token words can (and do) have the same
meaning (i.e., the same as the 'unspoken utterance', "It's time for lunch"),
what can Holborow possibly have meant by what she herself said?
Moreover, the meaning of any translation sentences/words ("It's time for lunch",
etc.) must be fixed forever in Platonic heaven, otherwise there would be nothing
for the original utterance to be translated into, that didn't also need
translating. And yet, if that were so, why can't it be the case with the words
in the original utterance?
However, let
us suppose for a moment that Holborow is right, and each utterance of "I'm
hungry" does mean something (completely) different each time, and that
the context, aims and intentions of speakers can actually change the
meaning of any of the words used. In such circumstances, as was argued earlier,
who would then be able to say what
such words actually meant? Certainly not the person uttering them; any attempt
to explain his/her own meaning (even if this were 'internally voiced')
would surely be subject to the very same equivocation/translation. The
words used to do just
that would also have to change in meaning upon being uttered -- or, rather,
any of the explanatory words employed to that end would themselves be sensitive
to such changes on each new occasion of use/translation. Still less would
hearers of these words be able to say what they meant; they could now only
guess what these elusive meanings might be, or might have been -- and,
incidentally, whose ownguesses would in turn be subject to the
same sort of equivocation/re-interpretation/translation, too.
In that
case, if the meaning of every word is
occasion-sensitive, then so is that of any word that appears in a putative
translation or explanation of it -- including Holborow's.
To be sure,
what someone intends to achieve
by what they say does affect how we interpret the aims and intentions
underlying what they have just said, but this can't affect what the words they
use mean.
Why this is
so will now be examined in more detail in the next sub-section.
As seems
clear, Holborow failed to distinguish
speaker's meaning from word or sentence
meaning. What a person intends to achieve with or by his/her words is surely
distinct from what those words mean. If that weren't so then we would have to
admit that the sentences listed below, for example, all meant the same if they
were aimed at making the same point.14a
So, if someone uttered each of these sentences with, say, the intention of
alarming their listeners, then that would imply that they all meant the same
-- i.e., they would all be synonymous!
V3: "Those pickets will stop you
strike-breaking!"
V4: "The Nazis know where you live!"
V5: "Margaret Thatcher is your
biological mother!"
V6: "Tony Blair really admires you!"
T1: "I want to alarm you!"
T2: "Holborow is wrong about meaning
being sensitive to intended effect and/or occasion of use."
Consider,
for example, V1 and V2: if these were uttered with the aim of alarming whoever
they were directed at, then they would both have to mean "I want to alarm you!",
if Occasionalism were true. In that case, presumably, "move" and "your" from V1
and V2 must now mean "I" from T1; "and" and "house has" from V1 and V2 must mean
"want to" from T1, and so on. If not, then what precisely is implied by
this view of meaning?
In fact,
all the above were written with the intention of showing that Holborow's ideas
on this issue are misguided. So, does this then imply that "Those pickets will
stop you strike-breaking!", for example, means "Holborow and Voloshinov
are wrong about word meaning being sensitive to intended effect and/or occasion
of use", if the use of both of these sentences had the same aim? Is this true of
all the rest? Does the sentence "Those pickets will stop you strike-breaking!"
mean the same as "The Nazis know where you live!" --, whose meaning actually
is: "Holborow and Voloshinov are wrong about meaning being sensitive to intended
effect and/or occasion of use"? On the account under review here, V3 must mean
the same as T2!
This alone
shows that
context can't narrow
down the options here, ruling certain 'translations' out as fanciful, since all
of the above (and countless more) could be used with the same intention
(expressed in T2, for instance), and in the same surroundings (of this
Essay), even if all of them are totally dissimilar and seemingly unrelated.
Worse
still: if these sentences
are synonymous, it must be possible to use them all interchangeably. So,
the next time someone wants to tell you that Tony Blair admires you, all he/she
has to do is say "Your house has just burnt down!", and if they want to inform
you that the Nazis know where you live, all they need do is utter "Margaret
Thatcher is your biological mother!" -- or, indeed,
"Holborow
and Voloshinov are wrong about meaning being sensitive to intended effect and/or
occasion of use".
If the occasion of use means that these are synonymous when used with the same
intention, then all this, and more, must surely be the case. And if that
is so, it isn't easy to see how any conceivable context of utterance (short of
the highly fanciful) would be able to tell you that when someone says "Those
pickets will stop you strike-breaking!" they
really mean "Your house has just burnt down!".
Of course,
all of the above are
written, not spoken, examples of word use, but that can't form the basis
of a successful counter-response to the above objections. [Anyway, Holborow's
reported utterance (i.e., "I'm hungry") was written, too, as were
Voloshinov's.] But, the same points could have been made verbally, so they don't
depend specifically on the written word. There is surely no significant
philosophical or linguistic difference (at least with respect to the meaning of
words/sentences) if, say, V1-V6 were to be printed in a hard copy version of
this Essay, or if they were recorded and then played back as part of a speaking
book, or even yelled in public in the main square by the
Town Crier
at noon.
It could be
maintained that there is a difference. Voloshinov was at pains to
distinguish the
living, interactive use of language between speakers, and the written
word.
Or so it
might be argued...
That
particular objection has been dealt with
here.
Exception
might be taken to the above in view of the fact that Voloshinov and Holborow
(along with several other comrades) draw a clear distinction between the
usual meaning of words
(their linguistic meaning) and their occasional meaning (which, from time to
time, Voloshinov seems to call, or associate with, "theme"). However, based on
what the aforementioned comrades actually say, this distinction can't be
sustained. Given their account, only un-used
words would actually have a linguistic meaning, while used words would
have an occasional meaning. Their theory seems to hold that words acquire new
meanings every time they are used. In that case, words would surely
have a linguistic meaningonly if they were never used! [On this, see
Note 16and
Note 17, below.]
That
neutralises the above objection (i.e., that Voloshinov acknowledges that words
have standard meanings), since if anything can mean anything, then the phrase
"standard meaning" can, too, and we are back once more in that dialectical hole
DM-fans seem to want to occupy.
An appeal to
the dictionary meaning of words would be to no avail, either, for those meanings
are all culled from past usage, which, given Voloshinov's theory, implies
that only if a word has never
been used in the past (and hence fails to appear in a dictionary) would it have
a linguistic meaning!
Once more,
if this theory were correct, it seems that if a speaker (such as myself)
actually used the word "word" to mean "This expression means itinerant noises
like coughs", then its dictionary entry would have to be revised
accordingly.
Either that,
or, the linguistic/dictionary meaning of a word like "cough" would actually be
irrelevant, or even unrelated, to its occasional meaning. But, if that were so,
why would anyone use that particular word? Any word, it seems will do, given the
right intention. And, if that were so, no one would bother compiling
dictionaries, since they would be full of useless definitions that no one
observed, and words that no one ever used.15
This is
quite apart from the obvious fact that if speaker's meaning determined the
meaning of words, "dictionary" and "entry" could mean anything, too!
[It is
important to note once more that, in the above comments, the distinction between
the meaning of a word and the sense of a sentence has been deliberately blurred.
That is because the writers whose views are being criticised here invariably
fail to distinguish between them. So, in order to expose the ridiculous nature
of their theories, I am force to employ words as they use them! It is
also arguable that part of the reason their ideas lapse into confusion so
readily is that they fail to notice this (rather obvious!) fact about the use of
language. The distinction itself will be explored in more detail
below.]
Someone might object that the above examples (i.e.,
V1-V6) are highly fanciful and contrived; in
which case they can't be used against Voloshinov or Holborow. But, that isn't
so. Sentences like these are uttered every day. Anyway, the real point is that
according to Voloshinov and Holborow any sentences uttered with the aim
of alarming hearers (and who can deny that this
happens many times a day around the world?) will all have the same meaning. The
actual choice of examples is therefore irrelevant.
With respect
to the use of a non-English sentence -- such as "La
plume de ma tante est sur le bureau de mon oncle"
("My aunt's pen is on my uncle's bureau") -- if it were uttered with the
intention of alarming someone, it needn't actually be translated since all
would know it meant, "I want to alarm you". Who then would need translators? Who
would need to learn a foreign language? Who would need a foreign language
dictionary of phrase book? So, when in Spain, for example, if a tourist wanted
to give her details to a Customs official, all she need say is "La
plume de ma tante est sur le bureau de mon oncle" if what she intended to
say was this "Hola,
yo me llamo Frieda
Farfenickle"
("Hi, my name is Frieda Farfenickle").
[Or are
Proper Names exempt from such occasionalist rules? If so, on what basis do they
get a pass?]
Despite
this, it could be argued that the circumstances surrounding the utterance of
each of the above sentences (i.e., V1-V6) would all be different, and although
they would all mean the same in the
abstract, their "theme" would be different, and thus their concrete
meaning would be different, too.
However, even if this were the case, any theory that had the consequence that in
the abstract, V1-V6 all meant the same (even if we knew what an 'abstract
meaning' was!) would still be subject to the objections advanced above.
Moreover, as we will soon see, Voloshinov is hopelessly unclear what he meant by
"theme", and his commentators are no less unclear, too. In that case, an appeal
to "theme" to rescue this theory would be about as helpful as a 'solution' to a
conundrum that had been written in the language of The Voynich Manuscript.
Having said
that, I do not wish to suggest that word meaning (which in turn involves the
content of an utterance) and speaker's meaning are hermetically-sealed aspects
of our use of language. I think Michael Dummett made the point rather well in an
interview he gave back in 1987, reprinted in one of his books:
"There
may be many cases in which the application is difficult, but the principle of
the distinction [i.e., between the content of an utterance and the point of
saying it -- RL] is quite clear. Even to understand one another we have
constantly to assess the motives or the intentions lying behind what is said;
sometimes this is perfectly obvious and sometimes it's difficult. 'Is he saying
that as a joke or is he serious?'. 'Did he think his remark relevant to the
previous conversation, or was he changing the subject?'.
"We need
constantly, in the course of conversation, to ask ourselves questions of this
kind. It is essential that linguistic utterances are in general voluntary,
rational actions and that we have to assess them as such. But the salient point
is that such assessments are like those of any non-linguistic action, as when we
ask ourselves, 'Why did he do that?', or 'What was he aiming at in doing that?'
One does not have, as it were, to learn that as part of acquiring the
language. One simply picks it up in the course of learning how to respond to
other people and interact with other people." [Dummett (1993b), p.182. Quotation
marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site. Italic
emphasis in the original.]
When we try to
understand one another we often have to take into account both the meaning of
the words an interlocutor uses and why they are being used.
In fact,
this theory implies that a cough, for example, would actually mean the same as a
sneeze if it were intended to make someone jump -- and that a child's cry was
synonymous with an alarm bell if both were aimed at waking up the child-minder.
It could be
objected that a cough or a child's cry aren't
linguistic expressions, hence they are inapt counter-examples.
However, if
meaning were indeed
occasion-sensitive (as opposed to it being a feature of the public use
of words drawn from a finite vocabulary, etc.), then any sound or sign could
count as a linguistic move. If, say, someone coughed and they meant (speaker's
meaning) on that occasion: "Look out, the boss is coming!", then it seems,
according to this theory that that noise would mean (linguistically) the
same
as: "Look out, the boss is coming!". In which case, for Holborow and Voloshinov,
it looks as if a cough would be just as much a linguistic act as uttering the
words: "Look out, the boss is coming!". Indeed, if that were so, the
sentence "Look out, the boss is coming!" would be dispensable, and we could all
use a cough from now on whenever we wanted to warn of the boss's approach --,
or, indeed, to report on that possibility in this Essay.
So, when I
wrote:
If, say, someone coughed and they meant
(speaker's meaning) on that occasion: "Look out, the boss is coming!",
then it seems that (according to Holborow) this noise would mean
(linguistically) the same as the words: "Look out, the boss is coming!".
I could just
as well from now on write:
If, say, someone coughed and they meant
(speaker's meaning) on that occasion: "COUGH!", then it seems that (according to
Holborow) this noise would mean (linguistically) the same as the word: "COUGH!"
Which
everyone committed to this theory would understand, since the sentence "Look
out, the boss is coming!" would, for them, mean the same as a cough, or even
"cough".
In that
case, the ridiculous nature of the above should now speak, or cough, for itself.
Again, it could be objected that this response only succeeds in undermining the
argument advanced in this Essay (which was that the meaning of words and the
sense of sentences aren't in general dependent on contexts of utterance), for if
the meaning of, say, a cough is now admitted to be occasion-sensitive,
then meaning in general must be occasion-sensitive, contrary to what had been
claimed.
That
objection is misguided. Given the theory under consideration, and the example
used above, we would now have nothing into which we could 'translate' the said
cough, since the original sentence "Look out, the boss is coming!" is
dispensable (it having been replaced, along with its meaning, by a
cough). If so, either (i) coughs would become meaningless by default -- they
would not now be translatable because the sentence they replaced, and which
could be used to translate them, has dropped from the language --, or (ii)
if coughs retained some sort of a meaning, it would then be equivalent to the
now unusable (or, from-now-on-and-forever-to-be-unused) sentence "Look out,
the boss is coming!" -- once again, it having passed from the language. Either
way, coughs would thus have taken on the role of the now defunct type sentence
"Look out, the boss is coming!". As should seem clear, coughs would thus become
occasion-insensitive, since they would now have this meaning:
"Look out, the boss is coming!", and no other. The whole point of the
exercise would be lost and occasion-sensitivity will have been transformed into
its alter-ego: occasion-insensitivity!
[Of course,
this would create problems for those who cough because they have a tickle in the
throat, or are suffering from a chest complaint. Might they come to be described
as serial boss-approach-warners? And what are we to say of the patients in
tuberculosis wards? Are they all warning one another of the same or different
bosses?]
On the other
hand, (iii) even assuming that the sentence "Look out, the boss is coming!"
doesn't slip from the language in the manner suggested above (or in some
other way), the point at issue here would still be that whatever handle we have
on occasion-sensitive acts of communication,
it must rely on linguistic expressions that aren't themselves constrained by
occasion-sensitivity.
So, the
point made in the main body of this Essay wasn't that
nothing is occasion-sensitive, but that not everything could
possibly be occasion-sensitive.
If the
translation into language of coughs and other assorted random noises -- so
that they could be taken to mean things like "Look out, the boss is coming!" --
were itself dependent on nothing but occasion-sensitive materials (including
the sentence "Look out, the boss is coming!"), we would be involved in trying to
comprehend something (the cough) in terms of something else (its supposed
sentential equivalent) that would itself be in need of an unravelling process
all of its own. Down such a road, I fear, lies another infinite regress, in
which impenetrable thicket all meaning would soon become lost.
Again, it
could be objected that this still fails to address the main issue: coughs
(etc.) are non-linguistic acts; hence, they aren't at all what Holborow was
adverting to.
The point
about using examples such as coughs and cries (etc.) is that Holborow's view
can't in the end distinguish between the occasion-sensitivity of such sounds
(etc.) and genuine linguistic acts, which she says are also constrained in this
way (i.e., in that they, too, are subject to the constraints of
occasion-sensitivity). If the meaning of both is occasion-sensitive
(whereas the view advanced in this Essay is that only the meaning of the former
is so constrained, when used in the manner suggested), then Holborow
still needs other criteria to tell them apart. If a cough could mean (speaker's
meaning) the same as "Look out, the boss is coming!" (and who can doubt that?),
and any other randomly chosen sentence (such as "My gerbil is dead!") could
also mean "Look out, the boss is coming!" (as it seems it could, given
Holborow's view; that is, if the person using "My gerbil is dead!" actually
meant it, or intended it, as the coded message/warning, "Look out,
the boss is coming!"), then the distinction between linguistic expressions and
mere sounds would be lost, and the points raised in the main body of this Essay
would stand.
Despite
this, it might be felt that since coughs and itinerant noises aren't part of a
standardised vocabulary, they can't be interpreted along the lines outlined
above. But, if a linguistic expression can be used to mean anything
whatsoever (even something wildly divergent from the norm -- or to use
Holborow's words: it could be "different in every aspect") then standardised
vocabularies must surely drop out as irrelevant. For example, if the word
"cough" (not the actual noise, or action, but the word itself) could mean, say,
"My armadillo is sick", then any connection it once might have had with its own
dictionary entry (or its established meaning) would be lost (as would those of
the other four words used: "my", "armadillo", "is" and "sick"). In that case,
the links that the word "cough" had with its standard meaning would be severed,
too. And, if that is the case, an actual cough could then mean the same
as "My armadillo is sick", or any other word or set of words in the dictionary
or the language, which could in turn mean anything themselves, including
coughs.
It might now
be objected that an actual cough isn't a word, so it can't perform the
roles assigned to it in the above paragraphs.
But, if
anything can mean anything,
we must surely lose touch with the meaning of the word "word" itself. On
this view, the word "word" could in fact mean: "This expression actually
means itinerant noises like coughs"
if it were so 'intended' by deviant linguists (or if I so intend it
here). If Occasionalism were true, this possibility can't be ruled out.
Occasionalism permits any word to mean anything if it is so intended, or if the
circumstances suggest it. And that includes words and phrases like "meaning",
"sentence", "word", "cough", "and so on"..., and so on.
Perhaps more
significantly, given this view, it would be possible for plain gibberish to have
the same effect on an audience that a perfectly ordinary sentence had on
those who heard both, and hence for the two to mean the same, if there were
an intention to that effect. In which case, we should have to admit that a
nonsensical string of letters, such as:
[Or, indeed,
if both were intended to annoy or perplex supporters of Voloshinov's 'theory' of
meaning, and succeeded in doing one or both.]
Moreover, if, as
Voloshinov argues, sentence and word meaning (not speaker's meaning) were
dependent on context and occasion of use, then words divorced from every
context would have no meaning at all.16
So, for instance, the sentence "Voloshinov is correct about meaning and theme"
would mean nothing until someone actually uttered it in a particular context
with a specific intention. But, if it had no meaning, why would anyone choose
to utter it? Why would anyone select such a meaningless string of words?
They might just as well say something genuinely meaningless like: "BuBuBu" --,
which, on this theory, should gain a sense from being uttered with a special
aim in mind. But, wouldn't they rather utter "I'm hungry" in order to mean
"Voloshinov is correct about meaning and theme"?
In fact, the situation is far worse than this; if a sentence such as "Voloshinov
is correct about meaning and theme" is meaningless -- that is, it is
meaningless until it is uttered, if Voloshinov is to be believed --, then
surely no one would use "I'm hungry" to mean something that is
meaningless, i.e., "Voloshinov is correct about meaning and theme", since
both of these sentences would fail to mean anything if someone uttered "I'm
hungry"!
Plainly, that is because the sentence "Voloshinov is correct about meaning and
theme" wouldn't have been used --
merely indirectly adverted to --, and so would stillbe
meaningless. Hence, at least here, a sentence like "I'm hungry", used in a
given context, couldn't have its meaning determined by its occasional use, since
it would now have no meaning at all! Again, that is because it is supposed 'to
mean' the same as the un-uttered sentence, "Voloshinov is correct about meaning
and theme", which, because it hasn't been uttered, has no meaning -- thus
implying that "I'm hungry" has no meaning, either!
This must be
the case with all sentences before they are uttered. "I'm hungry" can't
mean anything, no matter how we try to translate or make sense of it since, if
it is used in the way that Voloshinov and Holborow imagine. It could only 'mean
the same' as some other sentence that wasn't uttered, merely alluded to --
which, because it hasn't been uttered, can have no meaning. Consequently, if
true, Voloshinov's theory concerning the occasion-sensitivity of words and/or
sentences would, ipso facto,
become untrue
-- a result that represents yet another ironic 'dialectical inversion', one
feels.17
Again,
someone could object that this ignores Voloshinov's distinction between "theme"
and meaning. That response will be dealt with
presently.
Alternatively, Voloshinov's theory seems to imply that
interlocutors must ascertain each other's aims and intentions
before they can be expected to grasp what was said. This would then involve
the latter in having to link aspects and surroundings of any utterance (which,
we must recall, are as yet meaningless
to each hearer) -- that are relevant to that end in that context -- to an
indeterminate number of possible meanings. But, if the said utterance has
no meaning until it is interpreted (or even until it is uttered!) what is
there that hearers could latch on to in the local environment that might help
them to that end?18
It is little use replying that speakers and hearers accomplish this every day,
since, on this view, it is hard to see how that is possible. To be sure, we
often make an educated guess when we encounter the odd things we sometimes hear,
but this typically takes place against a background that consists of an array of
words we
already comprehend. But, if all the words we hear or read were
meaningless before we interpreted them, or even before they were uttered,
we would surely be like those trapped in a foreign land, confronted by a
language we had never encountered before.18a0
In fact, we
would normally say that interlocutors communicate because they possess a common
language, which benefits from a shared vocabulary with reasonably settled
meanings, and which both parties already understand. What they do not
normally do is revise language during every conversation. And yet,
it seems that they must do this if Voloshinov were correct.18a
And, we
certainly can't appeal to past experience to help out here. That is,
interlocutors can't rely on a previous use of the same words in the same
contexts to ascertain what is intended in or by their current employment, for
Holborow and Voloshinov tell us that any and all words have
completely different meanings each time they see the light of day. Not only
that, but the circumstances surrounding the vast majority of (if not all)
utterances are completely novel, too.18b
Nevertheless, each new context brings with it new meanings, according to
Voloshinov and Holborow. These novel connotations would not only have to be
supplied by both parties to a conversation, they would have to coincide for
each of the parties to that conversation if communication is to succeed.
But, how might this be achieved if neither
interlocutor understands what is said in advance of it being said (since it
is meaningless until it said, given this view), or if neither party has
experienced exactly these circumstances before? Indeed, given the fact
that no two human beings are completely alike, nor have they even remotely
shared the same experiences, this theory implies that no act of communication
would ever succeed. [There is much more on this
below.]
In fact,
anyone overhearing such a conversation, and not knowing the aims or intentions
of the interlocutors, wouldn't understand what they had overheard, either -- if
Voloshinov were correct. In general, this is patently incorrect. We readily
understand things not addressed to us. We might sometimes miss the
point of why it was said (just as we might not always grasp every single
detail (if, say, some of the individuals mentioned in such a conversation were
unknown to us)), but that is an entirely separate matter.
More difficult to explain,
however, is the fact that hearers would have to express to themselves in
their own language (i.e., in their own
idiolect, or
their "inner speech") the aims and intentions of their interlocutors. This would
involve them in representing the latter in a language that wasn't itself
subject to the same constraints. Let us call such a language (i.e., one that
is comprehensible without recourse to any further occasion-sensitive
protocols)
an "immediate language".
Hence, a
language understood
without the need for any further processing would be an immediate
language. But, if such an 'internal' language is indeed immediate,
then language itself at some point must be
occasion-independent -- namely, just here, internally. And yet, if
some language is internally immediate, why not the language we use
'externally'? The only possible reason for denying this would seem to be that
the hypothesised language here is 'internal' to an individual. That option will
be considered presently, and neutralised.
Conversely, if a hearer's own 'internal language' is also
occasion-sensitive -- that is, if it isn't an immediate language,
after all --, then an infinite regress must ensue as interpretation upon
interpretation is layered on top of each incoming message, and each subsequent
translation (and translation of a translation of a translation…) is rendered
into that individual's inner, inner, inner..., idiolect.
As already
noted, this theory would mean that a word in fact possessed no meaning at all
(i.e., no intrinsic meaning) until someone deigned to give it one by using it.
But, if that were the case, no one would be able to ascertain whether or not
they had settled on the same meaning as that which had been latched on to
by any of their interlocutors. Not only that, any attempt to resolve even
this
quandary would itself stall until a decision had been made (in no language at
all, presumably!) whether or not each party to a conversation meant the
same by the phrase "same meaning", let alone any of the other terms on
offer.
And how
might that minor miracle be achieved, for goodness sake?19
On the
contrary, if a hearer hasn't
already grasped what is said to him/her, the assumed (internal) process of
interpretation can't even begin. That is because hearers wouldn't be able to
distinguish what was meaningfully communicated to them from irrelevant or
pointless remarks -- or, for that matter, from gibberish and incidental noises
(as we saw earlier). If they had to
decipher words directed at them based only on contexts of utterance
and/or on the aims and intentions of speakers, then they would also have to be
able to ascertain which aspects of those contexts were relevant to that end
(again, as noted earlier). [As we have seen,
"context of utterance is itself hopelessly vague!] But, that would involve them
in understanding the said utterance first. Otherwise,
anything could be counted as 'relevant'. If we are to interpret the aims and
intentions of fellow speakers successfully, they must address us in terms we
already understand so that we can layer on top of whatever they say any
additional gloss we deem appropriate -- as we try to discern their intentions,
and as each occasion demands, or otherwise. It can't work the other way round.
We don't divine what others intend by a sort of magical, languageless
intuition, which subsequently enables us to put meaning to their words. That
is why we don't have to wait to ascertain the point of someone uttering,
say, "The BNP is a Nazi Party" before we understand it. Once more, we must
first grasp what is said if we are to figure out the point of
someone saying whatever they say. Hence, the point behind the present
author's inclusion of this sentence about the BNP (which was in fact to argue
that Voloshinov is wrong in what he says) has nothing at all to do with what
those words mean. Although, my intentions certainly affected what I meant
(speaker's meaning) to achieve by using them.
In fact, it
is quite easy to see that Voloshinov's suppositions aren't viable since we
already
understand the exemplary sentences from earlier (i.e., V1-V6) before we
know their context of utterance, or the point, or the purpose, anyone might
intend by uttering them:
V1: "Move, and you're dead!"
V2: "Your house has just burnt down!"
V3: "Those pickets will stop you
strike-breaking!"
V4: "The Nazis know where you live!"
V5: "Margaret Thatcher is your
biological mother!"
V6: "Tony Blair really admires you!"
Moreover,
because of our facility with language, and as a result of our socialisation, we
also know, or can form, an educated guess concerning the sorts of contexts
in which such sentences could plausibly feature, or be uttered, and it is
this that helps us interpret the aims and intentions of others when they arise.20
Of course, we do this with such ease
that we don't notice it, just as we can, for example, walk without noticing or
knowing how we do it. And that is why we feel we can exclude (as highly
unlikely) most of the fanciful interpretations advanced above of what the
hypothetical child, for example, might have meant by "I'm hungry". That
is also why readers who have made it this far can easily comprehend sentences
like V1-V6 whether or not they are aware that these sentences have all been
fabricated to a specific end, and have no context other than the spurious ones
provided here, or mentioned earlier.
And it is a safe bet that that won't have affected the reader's understanding of
these perfectly ordinary sentences. That fact would be totally inexplicable
if linguistic meaning were context-dependent.
The seeming plausibility
of Voloshinov and Holborow's examples (or, indeed, any imaginative
interpretation put upon them) trades on a facility possessed by all competent
language users: that is, of being able to understand sentences independently of
their context of utterance -- saving, of course, those that have
indexical
features (etc.). And this still remains the case even when a reference to
the context of utterance could help hearers ascertain the aims and
intentions of their interlocutors. That is why it isn't necessary for
Voloshinov's readers to know the contexts surrounding his particular use
of language in order to understand him, or his work; indeed, it is because they
already grasp the words he chose to use that they can recognise in
general the types of contexts in which the examples he cites might plausibly
occur (should they want to do this), as well as the sorts of aims and
intentions they might reveal or express. That is also why the implication that
sentences like V1-V6 have the same meaning strikes us as completely bizarre, and
why we can see that, despite the fact that uttering any or all of them could
have the same effect, or arise from the same intention, they don't
have the same meaning.20a
Finally, it is also why
we can all see that inscriptions like those in V7 (i.e., "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT")
are totally meaningless,
despite the fact that V7 could have had the same effect on someone as a
meaningful sentence, and be employed to the same ends. Even though V7 has a
use -- for example, to make the very point that it is meaningless21
-- it is, nevertheless, mere babble. Using it to make that very point doesn't
show that its meaning is that it is meaningless. Plainly not, otherwise it
would have no meaning by meaning that -- indeed, in that case, its
meaning would be that it had no meaning!22
As we will
see later in this Essay,
despite what they might appear to say, the reason why theorists like
Voloshinov (and, it seems, the other comrades mentioned above) find
Occasionalism so attractive is that they have accepted the traditional view that
'acts of meaning' are 'inner mental events', private to each individual. Quite
apart from the fact that this theory sits awkwardly with the belief that
language is a social phenomenon, if it were true it would actually
prevent -- not facilitate -- communication. Indeed, since this view of
meaning is plainly based on the
representational model, it is hardly surprising that it undermines
communication.
Now, there
are places in Voloshinov's work where he sort of
half recognises this, but his grasp of this idea isn't secure enough for
him to appreciate that he has only succeeded in undermining it because of the
other things he says about meaning -- or, indeed, vice versa.23
"Speech had first to come into being
and develop in the process of the social intercourse of organisms
so that afterward it could enter within the organism and become inner speech."
[Voloshinov (1973), p.39. Bold emphases added.]
Here, the
order of events is plainly as follows: speech first, "inner speech"
second. But, if to understand something is:
"...to
refer a particular inner sign to a unity consisting of other inner signs...."
[Ibid., p.35.]
And:
"...understanding itself can come about
only with in some kind of semiotic material (e.g., inner speech), that sign
bears upon sign,
that consciousness itself can arise and become a viable fact only in the
material embodiment of signs...understanding is a response to a
sign with signs...." [Ibid., p.11. Italic
emphasis in the original.]
Then
this can only mean that before "inner speech" developed, no one would be able
to understand a single thing that was said to them! Why then would anyone
want to speak or engage in conversation? What use would language be if no one
could comprehend what anyone else was saying?
Furthermore, if understanding is
accomplished by "a response to a sign with signs", how would it be possible for
this "response" to have originally begun? Indeed, how could outer signs
ever have become 'inner signs' in the first place? And yet, this idea is
central to Voloshinov's theory. Unfortunately, however, he torpedoed his own
ideas when he said:
"There is no outer sign without an inner
sign." [Ibid., p.39.]
This can
only mean that the development of speech can't have originally used signs!
Recall the order of events, according to Voloshinov, is as follows:
(1) Outer
speech first, "inner speech" second.
(2)
Understanding requires "inner speech" and a "response" between signs.
(3) But,
there can be no outer signs (speech) without inner signs.
(4)
Therefore, (i) outer speech can't use any signs, and hence (ii) there can be
no outer speech!
That is
because when language began there were, as yet, no inner signs!
But, there could be no outer signs if there are no inner signs
[Point (3)],
and there can be no inner signs if there are no outer signs [Point (1)]!
The whole
process can't begin!
If so, no
sign could ever have become part of, or incorporated into, inner speech,
either. In which case, if Voloshinov is to be believed, that must mean that no one in human history will have
understood anything that had ever been said to them!
This
predicament would extend to children starting to learn to speak, too.
Manifestly, they have no inner signs when they are born. Hence, for them there
can be no outer signs, either! [Point (3), once more.] But, if there are no
outer signs, then no child could build up her own stock of inner signs. In that
case, no child could develop "inner speech". Thus, no child would ever
understand a single thing said to it!
The only
avenue of escape for Voloshinov would seem to be for him to argue that "inner
speech" developed first (thus rejecting Point (1)). Given such a scenario,
the private use of signs in "inner speech" would what allowed outer
speech to develop. But, this is just the
bourgeois individualist theory (which
is an early modern version of the much older
Platonic-Christian Paradigm) that has
dominated 'western' thought since Ancient Greek times -- and yet this is the
only way Voloshinov's theory can get off the ground. His social theory thus
inverts into an anti-social theory. Of course, this might help explain
why Voloshinov equivocated between a social and an individualistic account of
meaning and speech.
Once again,
we see the untoward consequences of buying into Traditional Thought, and (here)
the idea that understanding is an 'inner process'.
It might be
thought that Voloshinov's introduction of "theme" is capable of breathing life
into these dead signs, and thus of neutralising the above points. Unfortunately,
as we will
soon discover, instead of
breathing life into signs, "theme" injects them full of
Formalin.
Anyway,
exactly how "theme" can create outer signs if there are as yet no inner signs is
still unclear. Naturally, this means that not even "theme" can rescue
Voloshinov's theory from the nonsensical implication that understanding would be
impossible. Hence, the introduction of "theme", here, would be about as much use
as a margarine cement mixer.
Naturally,
this isn't to deny that languages change, nor is it to reject the idea
that the spoken word is part of a living system of inter-communication -- and
neither is it to repudiate the view that context (among other things) can affect
speaker's
meaning --, nor even that social parameters, or forces, have a decisive
effect on the development of language. The above comments are merely aimed at
reminding us that whatever its is that lends to sentences the sense they have
(and to words their meaning), it can't be context of utterance, or the use of
inner signs. Speaker's meaning is parasitic on much more fundamental aspects
of the social nature of language -- those that Voloshinov and the other comrades
mentioned above appear not to have noticed. What these features are have been
hinted at throughout this site (especially
here). Other important logical aspects of language will be rehearsed below.
As pointed
out
here and in
Note 29andNote 86,
Voloshinov and the other comrades mentioned above seem to have ignored the
important distinction between the meaning of words and the sense of
indicative
sentences. This is a failing they share with the majority of Philosophers
who have written on this subject --, that is, up until just over a hundred years
ago. Beginning with ideas that were first seriously mooted in
Frege's
work, Philosophers working in the
Analytic
tradition have generally (but not unanimously) maintained the opinion that an
account of language that ignores the above distinction is radically flawed.24
This
observation, of course, isn't based on supposition, nor is it mere dogma. We all
recognise it to be the case when we are reminded of it. Even competent speakers
of a language would fail to comprehend what was said to them if it contained
words they had never encountered before; and they would remain in that state
until the meaning of those words had been explained to them. In stark contrast,
all of us readily understand sentences wehave never heard before
(saving, of course, those that contain such novel words). This indicates that
word-meaning and sentence-sense can't be the same, otherwise this wouldn't
happen.
For example,
the words in the previous paragraph could be reassembled into different
combinations, and, providing each new arrangement satisfied certain syntactic
and pragmatic constraints, they would be readily understood by most competent
speakers of English. However, if the names "Tony Blair" and "Leon Trotsky" were
mixed up to give "Leon Blair" and "Tony Trotsky" no one would know who was being
referred to -- even if they knew who the original characters were.
Moreover, if
the following sentence were uttered:
V9: "Tony Blair's wrist watch has been
eaten by a Koala Bear",
the vast
majority of English language speakers would understand it even though that
sentence (in all probability) has never been written, spoken or heard before by
anyone in human history; and they would comprehend it without knowing whether it
was true or whether it was false, since they would know under what circumstances
it would or could be either one of these. In short, they would understand
its sense. [This theme has been greatly expanded upon in Essay Twelve
Part One.]
Contrast V9
with the following:
V10: Bogomil.
Now, it is
highly likely that most English speakers have never encountered this word
before. Even though it contains familiar letters, no one would understand it
until its meaning had been explained to them, or they looked it up in a
dictionary.25
If this word appeared in a sentence, that sentence would similarly remain
incomprehensible until its meaning had been clarified -- unless, of course, on
the rare occasion it had been worked out by means of an educated guess, perhaps.
This difference between
how we read, receive or understand words and sentences shows
that the sense of the latter and the meaning of the former are distinct logical
features of our use of language.25a
All
traditional, ancient, and most modern 'theories of meaning' founder on this fact
alone.26
Nevertheless, this isn't
an obscure feature of language, something that only
those who study Linguistics or Analytic Philosophy are aware of. All of us
appreciate its validity (and recognise its force) when it is pointed out to us
since we depend on it to communicate everyday of our lives. We all
understand sentences we have never seen or heard before, and we all fail to
comprehend words we have never previously encountered. The fact that this
distinction had been ignored for thousands of years (and is still largely
ignored today) by Traditional Theorists shows how divorced from ordinary life --
and how obsessed with atomistic theories of language -- such thinkers had
(and have) become (and this is so for reasons examined in Essay Twelve (summary
here)).26a
Naturally,
this means that serious errors were introduced into thought by previous
generations of Philosophers, who not only ignored, they disdained, the
vernacular, preferring instead a fetishised view of language.27
[Again, why
this is so and why it is significant are explained in more detail in Essay
Twelve
Part One.]
Moreover,
any analysis of language that tried to explain the meaning of words and the
sense of sentences by an indiscriminate appeal to speaker'susage
(i.e., to what a speaker idiosyncratically intends to convey or achieve
by employing certain sentences or words) would similarly fail to account for the
phenomenon noted above. If the sense of a sentence were (generally) based on the
use to which a speaker might (idiosyncratically) put it, then competent speakers
of a language wouldn't be able to understand sentences they had never heard
before -- just as they now fail to comprehend novel words they have never
previously encountered. If the idiosyncratic use of words determined meaning,
and if intentions or contexts of utterance determined the sense of sentences,
word meaning and sentence sense would be all of a piece.28
In that case, language users wouldn't be able to understand both words and
sentences they had never met before, rather than just failing to comprehend
words they had never heard before. Since most of the sentences we encounter are
novel, while the words they contain are not, we would in such circumstances fail
to understand anything said to us until everything had been explained -- but
which explanation would also need explaining..., and so on --, and for
the same reason.
This might
be why Socialist Worker
had the following to say a few years ago (ironically, just before the
UK-SWP became engulfed in the scandal around
'Comrade Delta' and allegations of rape, which succeeded in
halving its membership
over the next year following a series of mass resignations):
"But language
can't be divorced from society and used however
we like. Meanings can't be dictated by
individual intentions.... [One] example is
last year's 'Slutwalk' protests against sexism.
Women organised these demonstrations after
a police officer in Canada suggested that
women should avoid 'dressing like sluts' to
protect themselves from rape. 'Slut' is a
derogatory term used to insult women based on
their supposed sexual behaviour. It promotes the
false idea of women as naturally pure and chaste
in order to denounce those who don't conform to
this stereotype. The protests highlighted
women's oppression and attracted people who
wanted to fight it. But adopting the word 'slut'
didn't change its meaning in wider society. It
created divisions in the ranks of those who
wanted to fight sexism. The bigots can draw
confidence from this. They see women using the
word 'slut' as a licence for them to use it too.
So 'reclaiming' oppressive words doesn't
ultimately strengthen the fight against
oppression -- it makes it harder." [Socialist
Worker 2290, 18/02/2012, p.9. Quotation
marks altered to conform with the conventions
adopted at this site. Paragraphs merged; bold
emphasis and link added.]
In addition
to the above, a plausible account of language must be able to relate the clear
distinction we draw between the sense of sentences and the meaning of words to
our capacity to form and comprehend novel sentences -- the senses of which are
related (sometimes systematically, sometimes not) to the manner in which their
constituent words have been combined (etc.), coupled with the meaning of the
words used. It must, therefore, connect the sense of a sentence to rules of
syntax, which in turn must be related to something other
than idiosyncratic use.29
It is here, perhaps, where the weakness
of Voloshinov's 'theory' is most obvious: the confusion of the meaning of words
with the sense of sentences.30
Again, as already noted, he isn't alone in taking this wrong turn; it is a major
failing of all Traditional Theories of language (and many modern ones, too).
Oddly enough, this atomistic approach to
discourse also plagues accounts of language written by several prominent
Wittgensteinians -- including, it seems, practically every 'Wittgensteinian'
who is also a social scientist.31
At this
point, it could be objected that Voloshinov's theory of language isn't
susceptible to the above criticisms. That is because of (a) The distinction he
drew between meaning and "theme", (b) His insistence that written words and
spoken words are subject to different criteria, and because of (c)
His opposition to what he calls "abstract objectivism".
Item (b) has
already been discussed (here),
so I will consider (a) first.
Unfortunately, Voloshinov's comments on "theme" are far too
sketchy and confused for anyone to be able to say what he actually meant by
this word!
To compound matters, Holborow, Parrington and Doherty provide us with little
help in this regard, either. Indeed, Parrington doesn't even use the term!
Nevertheless, Voloshinov had this to say about "theme":
"Let us agree to call the entity which
becomes the object of a sign the theme of the sign. Each fully fledged
sign has its theme. And so every verbal performance has its theme.
"An ideological theme is always socially
accentuated. Of course, all the social accents of ideological themes make their
way into the individual consciousness (which, as we know, is ideological through
and through) and there take on the semblance of individual accents, since the
individual consciousness assimilated them as its own. However, the source of
these accents is not the individual consciousness. Accent, as such, is
interindividual....
"The theme of an ideological sign and
the form of an ideological sign are inextricably bound together and are
separable only in the abstract…." [Voloshinov (1973), p.22.]
"A definite and unitary meaning, a
unitary significance, is a property belonging to any utterance as a whole.
Let us call the significance of a whole utterance its theme…."
[Added in a footnote: "The term is, of
course, a provisional one. Theme in our sense embraces its implementation as
well; therefore our concept must not be confused with that of a theme in a
literary work. The concept of 'thematic unity' would be closer to what we
mean."]
"…The theme must be unitary, otherwise
we would have no basis for talking about any one utterance. The theme of an
utterance is individual and unreproducible, just as the utterance itself is
individual and unreproducible. The theme is the expression of the concrete,
historical situation that engendered the utterance. The utterance 'What time is
it?' has a different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with
our terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions) during which it is
enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part.
"It follows, then, that the theme of an
utterance is determined not only by the linguistic forms that comprise it --
words, morphological and syntactic structures, sounds, and intonation -- but
also by extraverbal factors of the situation. Should we miss these situational
factors, we would be as little able to understand an utterance as if we were to
miss its most important words. The theme of an utterance is concrete -- as
concrete as the historical instant to which the utterance belongs.
Only an utterance taken in its full, concrete scope as an historical
phenomenon possesses a theme. That is what is meant by the theme of an
utterance.
"...Together with theme or, rather,
within the theme, there is also the meaning that belongs to an utterance.
By meaning, as distinguished from theme, we understand all those aspects of the
utterance that are reproducible and self-identical
in all instances of repetition. Of course, these aspects are abstract: they have
no concrete, autonomous existence in an artificially isolated form, but, at the
same time, they do constitute an essential and inseparable part of the
utterance. The theme of an utterance is, in essence, indivisible. The meaning of
an utterance, on the contrary, does break down into a set of meanings belonging
to each of the various linguistic elements of which the utterance consists. The
unreproducible theme of the utterance 'What time is it?' taken in its
indissoluble connection with the concrete historical situation, cannot be
divided into elements. The meaning of the utterance 'What time is it?' -- a
meaning that, of course, remains the same in all historical instances of its
enunciation -- is made up of the meanings of the words…that form the
construction of the utterance.
"Theme is a complex, dynamic system
of signs that attempts to be adequate to a given instant of generative process.
Theme is reaction by the consciousness in its generative process to the
generative process of existence. Meaning is the technical apparatus for
the implementation of theme. Of course, no absolute, mechanistic boundary
can be drawn between theme and meaning. There is no theme without meaning and no
meaning without theme. Moreover, it is even impossible to convey the meaning of
a particular word…without having made it an element of theme, i.e., without
having constructed an 'example' utterance. On the other hand, a theme must base
itself on some kind of fixity of meaning; otherwise it loses its connection with
what came before and what comes after -- i.e., it altogether loses its
significance….
[Quoting
Marr]
"'But was such an all-meaning word in fact a word?' we might be asked. Yes,
precisely a word. If, on the contrary, a certain sound complex had only one
single, inert, and invariable meaning, then such a complex would not be a word,
not a sign, but only a signal. Multiplicity of meanings is the constitutive
feature of a word. As regard the all-meaning word of which Marr speaks, we
can say the following: such a word in essence has virtually no meaning; it is
all theme. Its meaning is inseparable from the concrete situation of its
implementation. This meaning is different each time, just as the situation
is different each time. Thus the theme, in this case, subsumed meaning under
itself and dissolved it before meaning had any chance to consolidate and
congeal. But as language developed further, as its stock of sound complexes
expanded, meaning began to congeal along lines that were basic and most frequent
in the life of the community for the thematic application of this or that word.
"Theme, as we have said, is an attribute
of a whole utterance only; it can belong to a separate word only inasmuch as
that word operates in the capacity of a whole utterance…. Meaning, on the other
hand, belongs to an element or aggregate of elements in their relation to the
whole. Of course, if we entirely disregard this relation to the whole (i.e., to
the utterance), we shall entirely forfeit meaning. That is the reason why a
sharp boundary between theme and meaning cannot be drawn.
"The most accurate way of formulating
the interrelationship between theme and meaning is in the following terms. Theme
is the upper, actual limit of linguistic significance; in essence, only
theme means something definite. Meaning is the lower limit
of linguistic significance. Meaning, in essence, means nothing; it only
possesses potentiality -- the possibility of having a meaning within a concrete
theme. Investigation of the meaning of one or another linguistic element can
proceed, in terms of our definition, in one of two directions: either in the
direction of the upper limit, toward theme, in which case it would be
investigation of the contextual meaning of a given word within the conditions of
a concrete utterance; or investigation can aim toward the lower limit, the limit
of meaning, in which case it would be investigation of the meaning of a word in
the system of language or, in other words, investigation of a dictionary word.
"A distinction between theme and meaning
and a proper understanding of their interrelationship are vital steps in
constructing a genuine science of meanings. Total failure to comprehend their
importance has persisted to the present day. Such discriminations as those
between a word's usual and occasional meanings, between its
central and lateral meanings, between its denotation and connotation, etc., are
fundamentally unsatisfactory. The basic tendency underlying all such
discriminations -- the tendency to ascribe greater value to the central, usual
aspect of meaning, presupposing that that aspect really does exist and is stable
-- is completely fallacious. Moreover, it would leave theme unaccounted for,
since, theme, of course, can by no means be reduced to the status of the
occasional or lateral meaning of words." [Ibid., pp.99-102. Italic
emphases in the original.]31a
It would, of
course, be unfair to criticise Voloshinov too much for the sketchy nature of
these comments since he admitted his ideas were provisional. He was prevented
from developing them into full, or even fuller, coherence by the fact that he
disappeared during the Stalinist purges, which began soon after he wrote his
book. Those who have followed in his footsteps and who have simply
regurgitated his ideas aren't so easily excused.
Even so, it
is worth pointing out that Voloshinov supplied his readers with little or no
evidence to substantiate this distinction between "theme" and meaning -- or,
indeed, much else that he dogmatically asserts in his book. In fact, readers
will find no experimental results, observations, surveys, tables, graphs or
figures (or even so much as a single reference to other studies which record
or report such data/information!) and no statistical analyses and
mathematics in support of a single substantive conclusion he draws in the entire
work. That fact alone ought to worry comrades who regard Voloshinov's
book as a major contribution to the Science of Linguistics.
However, the
fact that it
doesn't, should surprise no one who is familiar with the
a priori and dogmatic nature
of 'dialectical philosophy'.
In like
manner, Parrington, Holborow and Doherty offer little (or any) empirical
evidence to back-up their claims that Voloshinov's ideas are of any scientific
merit -- or, indeed, for allaying the concerns of those who might be tempted to
conclude that his ideas have been
imposed on reality, contrary to what
we are told dialecticians never
do.32
Anyway,
given the nature of what Voloshinov actually said, no evidence could
ever have been, or could ever be found to support his claims. That is
because, by definition, "theme" is totally inaccessible
since it is essentially occasion-sensitive. This means that not only is
"theme" inaccessible to scientific enquiry, it is inaccessible to each and
every participant in a conversation -- since, as Voloshinov himself admits,
"theme" is affected by the microscopic
differences between cases:
"[T]heme must be unitary, otherwise we
would have no basis for talking about any one utterance. The theme of an
utterance is individual andunreproducible, just as the utterance
itself is individual and unreproducible. The theme is the expression of
the concrete, historical situation that engendered the utterance. The utterance
'What time is it?' has a different meaning each time it is used, and hence,
in accordance with our terminology, has a different theme, depending on the
concrete historical situation ('historical' here in
microscopic dimensions) during which it is enunciated and of which, in
essence, it is a part." [Ibid., p.99. Bold emphases added.]
In that
case, "theme" can serve no part in effecting communication, even if we knew
what "theme" was. [Those who think we
do know what "theme" is are encouraged to continue reading, after which
their premature feelings of confidence should emerge somewhat..., shall we
say..., shaken.]
If the above
is indeed the case, it might well be wondered how anyone could possibly tell
whether an utterance does, or does not, have a "theme". If something is
intrinsically unique, has a transient nature and is
ephemeral
in the extreme, how might its existence even be detected, let alone
confirmed?32a
In fact, in
the place of supporting evidence Voloshinov presented his readers with what
looks suspiciously like a
Transcendental
Argument to demonstrate the existence of "theme".33
Ex
hypothesi, that is all he
could have offered anyway, since whatever evidence there might have been for
the existence of a particular "theme" must have (of necessity) arrived far too
late on the scene for it to be of much use. A split-second delay would be far
too long to wait, if, as Voloshinov says, even microscopic changes alter
"theme". Hence, by the time any of this elusive 'evidence' became apparent, the
alleged "theme" would have changed, or would have disappeared. Naturally, this
means that it would be impossible for anyone to confirm this aspect of
Voloshinov's theory. Even film, video or recorded evidence would be of no use;
these couldn't possibly preserve the
microscopic details surrounding the original utterance.34
Indeed, it is unclear whether it is
possible for anyone to begin to form the faintest idea of what such
confirmation might even look like.
Recall what we were told about "theme":
"Let us agree to call the entity which
becomes the object of a sign the theme of the sign. Each fully fledged
sign has its theme. And so every verbal performance has its theme." [Ibid.]
Hence, the "object" of a sign is
intimately connected with the unique, occasional use of certain signs. In that
case, such an "object" plainly can't be identified, let alone studied
independently of singular events like these. Since these are in principle
unrepeatable they are uncheckable, and if that is so, no scientific
investigation would be able to confirm this aspect of Voloshinov's theory. What
could be measured, observed, or tested in such circumstances, anyway? Even
if there were anything to observe, how might test results be confirmed if the
"object" studied is irreduciblyuniqueandephemeral in the extreme?
This situation isn't at all like the
experiments carried out in
High
Energy Physics, for instance, where things happen extremely quickly, too.
There such events are
reproducible since they aren't unique, and they aren't
occasion-sensitive. With "theme", this isn't the case. Hence, not only
did Voloshinov fail to provide any evidence to support his claims, none could
have been offered by him, or by anyone on his behalf, for that matter --,
now or ever.
What then
are we to make of claims like these?
"Finally, for me there could be no question of superimposing the laws of
dialectics on nature but of discovering them in it and developing them from
it." [Engels
(1976), p.13. Bold emphasis added.]
"The dialectic does not liberate the
investigator from
painstaking study of the facts, quite the contrary: it requires it."
[Trotsky (1986), p.92. Bold emphasis added]
"Dialectics and materialism are the
basic elements in the Marxist cognition of the world. But this does not mean at
all that they can be applied to any sphere of knowledge, like an ever ready
master key. Dialectics cannot be imposed on facts; it has to be deduced from
facts, from their nature and development…." [Trotsky (1973), p.233. Bold
emphasis added.]
"'[The dialectic is not a] magic
master key for all questions.' The dialectic is not a calculator into which
it is possible to punch the problem and allow it to compute the solution. This
would be an idealist method. A materialist dialectic must grow from a
patient, empirical examination of the facts and not be imposed on them…."
[Rees (1998a), p.271. Bold emphases added.]
"A consistent materialism cannot
proceed from principles which are validated by appeal to abstract reason,
intuition, self-evidence or some other subjective or purely theoretical source.
Idealisms may do this. But the materialist philosophy has to be based upon
evidence taken from objective material sources and verified by demonstration in
practice...." [Novack (1965), p.17. Bold emphasis added.]
"Marxism, therefore, seeks to base
our ideas of things on nothing but the actual investigation of them, arising
from and tested by experience and practice. It does not invent a 'system' as
previous philosophers have done, and then try to make everything fit into it…."
[Cornforth (1976), pp.14-15. Bold emphases added.]
As we have
seen (in Essay Two), comrades who
say such things, or who assent to them, quite happily do the exact opposite
in the very next breath, and readily impose their ideas on nature and society,
just like Voloshinov.
Furthermore,
even if there were some corroborating evidence, it would surely have to
be expressed in linguistic form, at some point. In that case, it would itself be
subject to the very same strictures applied to its own "theme" and meaning, and
so on ad infinitem. How would it be possible to identify the "theme" of
any sentence expressing or reporting this evidence, or confirm whether or not it
even had a "theme" if its own "theme" is equally ephemeral and elusive?35
In addition,
if the "microscopic" details surrounding an "utterance" are essentially
unique then within
nanoseconds of an "utterance" ending those involved in the conversation
would be at a loss themselves as to what its "theme" had been --, that is, if
it indeed had one. [Or, even if they knew what they were looking for!]
In fact, even as the sound waves carrying each utterance were travelling between
speaker and hearer the "microscopic" details surrounding the original speech act
would be altering, changing the "theme", or perhaps even losing it, forever.
Worse still, during vocalisation the "microscopic" details
proximate
to each and every
nascent
speech act would be changing
diachronically.
This means that, while a speaker was
speaking, the theme of what he or she was in the act of saying would be
altering -- unless, of course, we are to suppose that each "theme" is timed to
coincide with the beginning and end of each speech act.36
Indeed, unless "themes" were timed to begin or end miraculously like this, it
would mean that each utterance must possess an indefinite number of "unitary
themes", depending on how
fast its originator spoke, how many micro-phonetic parts it contained, or
how often a speaker coughed, sneezed, or was interrupted during in a
conversation. Of course, anyone with a stammer would be doubly handicapped.36a
It could be
objected that this is all rather unfair since Voloshinov speaks of a "unitary
theme" that belongs to each
utterance, and he tells us that the "theme" of an utterance is
"indivisible".
However,
what these phrases actually mean will, of course, depend on how we
count utterances. Voloshinov appears to believe that "themes" and utterances
can be paired-off, one-one. In fact, something like this would have to be
the case, otherwise the ascription of a "unitary" and "indivisible" "theme" to
an utterance would be entirely empty. If so, it might look as if "themes" can be
individuated by the utterances they 'accompany'. But, that can't be right since
"themes" are circumstance-sensitive, which implies that any particular
type
utterance could in fact be the expression of countless different themes at
different times for each of its
tokens, as the "microscopic" details (etc.) surrounding them varied. We saw
as much above with respect to the sentences Holborow herself discussed:
"Let us take an example…. [:]
I'm hungry conjures up a general concept. When, however, we look at
different contexts in which the phrase might be used, we see how the evaluative
accent changes everything. A child saying this to her mother might be
indirectly a request for the mother to get her something, an enquiry about what
there is to eat, or a statement that she just feels like something to eat.
One adult saying it to another might mean that it's time for lunch and be a
suggestion that they go somewhere to eat…. In each case the context is not
merely the gloss on the meaning but constitutes different meanings -- different
in every aspect…." [Holborow (1999), p.28.]
Here, each
token utterance of the type "I'm hungry" means something entirely new. If
so, they must presumably have different "themes". Indeed, as Voloshinov himself
says:
"The theme of an utterance is individual
and unreproducible, just as the utterance itself is individual and
unreproducible. The theme is the expression of the concrete, historical
situation that engendered the utterance. The utterance 'What time is it?' has
a different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with our
terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions) during which it is
enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part." [Voloshinov (1973), p.99.
Bold emphasis added.]
Since we
aren't allowed to consider the meaning of type utterances (the idea is
foreign to Voloshinov, it seems -- but, meanings might be part of what he refers
to as the "self-identical" aspects of an utterance; p.100), Voloshinov's theory
appears to indicate that token utterances of a certain type are in fact pairable
with an indefinite number of "themes" according to circumstances.36a1
Conversely, the 'same' "theme" could be expressed by different type utterances.
Voloshinov doesn't explicitly rule this alternative out; even though it seems to
be inconsistent with
some of the things he said, it is implied by other things he wrote,
too. [On this, see Note 36a1,
and below.] So, the "theme" above (if it is one!), expressed by the
child's desire for her mother to get her some food, could in fact be expressed
in a number of different ways. The child could say any of the
following -- each expressing or instantiating the
same "theme":
P1: "Please get me some food."
P2: "I'm starving/famished/ravenous."
P3: "Is it nearly time for dinner?"
P4: "I want a
biscuit/apple/burger/banana/pizza…"
P5: "I want to eat something."
P6: "My tummy's rumbling."
P7: "My stomach thinks my throat is
cut."
And so on.
In fact there are countless ways this hypothetical child might express the 'very
same' "theme".
These
possibilities now raise serious questions about how the pairing of "themes" and
utterances is supposed to work. More pointedly: Which "theme(s)" is/are to be
paired with which utterance(s) if, in theory, an utterance might represent a
'different' theme at different times, and the 'same' "theme(s)" might be
expressed by different utterances at same or different times? Indeed, how are we
to rule out the possibility that one
utterance could in fact express two or more "themes" at once (which seems
to be a viable option since two or more "themes" -- as allowed for by the theory
-- could be expressed by one and the same utterance on different occasions of
use)?36b
For example:
P8: "I'm hungry,"
could
indicate that the one saying it wanted feeding as well as expressing a
veiled criticism of the one not doing the feeding. In that case, it would have
two "themes" --
if, of course, this is what a "theme" is! Who can say?
Someone
uttering P8 could thus mean (i.e., speaker's meaning), "Get me some food" as
well as
"I think you are a rather poor carer." Indeed, there might be other "themes"
'themed' by this one sentence on the same occasion (such as "I'm more important
than him/her, so feed me first", "You always treat me worse than him/her", or
"You are my employee, do as I say!", and so on).
To be sure,
one or more of the above could in principle be ruled out by a suitable
definition or
stipulation. It could then simply be baldly asserted that each token
utterance was paired one-one with
exactly one "theme". [How that could be checked is even less
clear!] Unfortunately, that would mean that whenever the 'same utterance' was
produced, the 'same' "theme" would have to be present, as a matter of
definition. That would, of course, make a mockery of the
occasion-sensitivity of "theme"! Either that, or it would mean that (despite
appearances to the contrary) no utterance was actually repeatable since each
would be identified and individuated by its own unique and unrepeatable "theme"
-- which would superglue each utterance to a unique set of circumstances.
Indeed, this latest observation seems to be consistent with some of the other
things Voloshinov says:
"[T]heme must be unitary, otherwise we
would have no basis for talking about any one utterance. The theme of an
utterance is individual andunreproducible, just as the utterance
itself is individual and unreproducible. The theme is the expression of
the concrete, historical situation that engendered the utterance." [Voloshinov
(1973), p.99. Bold emphasis added.]
Unfortunately, he then went on to say:
"The utterance 'What time is it?' has a
different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with our
terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions) during
which it is enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part." [Ibid., p.99.
Bold emphasis added.]
In that
case, it seems reasonably clear that Voloshinov wouldn't have pointed out
that "The utterance 'What time is it?' has a different meaning each time it
is used…" (emphasis added), if the same utterance hadn't in fact been
used -- otherwise, the second "it" would dangle with no referent. This indicates
that, confused as he was, Voloshinov wanted to appeal to the possible use of the
same type utterance, tokened in new circumstances, all the while clinging on
to the idea that each utterance is totally unique! With the best will in the
world, it isn't easy to see how any of this is feasible --, nor is it easy to
figure a simple way out of this dialectical thicket. It is even less easy to see
why anyone (least of all the comrades mentioned above) would voluntarily
propel themselves right into centre of this impenetrable briar patch.
It could be argued that even though "What time
is it?" might be uttered countless times in many different circumstances, each
one is individuated by the occasion of its use, and hence by its "theme" (a
point in fact made a few paragraphs back!). Maybe so, but this simply commits
Voloshinov to a belief in type utterances, something he would have rejected (as
abstract objectivism). Anyway, we have already seen that each utterance could
have many different "themes", so "theme" itself seems incapable of individuating
anything, least of all an utterance. [We will return to this
below.]
On the other
hand, it could be argued that "theme" might be identified by the 'thought'
conveyed by each utterance. However, that option would itself risk becoming
bogged down in a metaphysical dispute over the precise nature of 'thoughts',
and how they too might be individuated! Anyway, we have already seen (in
Note 23) that Voloshinov had
himself blocked that escape route:
"In point of fact, the speech act, or more
accurately, its product -- the utterance, cannot under any circumstances be
considered an individual phenomenon in the precise meaning of the word and
cannot be explained in terms of the individual psychological or
psychophysiological conditions of the speaker. The utterance is a social
phenomenon." [Ibid., p.82. Italic emphasis in the original.]
Nevertheless, if we ignore this intractable problem for the moment, the question
would still remain: How do we individuate 'thoughts' except by reference to the
utterances they supposedly accompany, or instantiate?37
But, that just loops the discussion back in on itself. The whole point of the
volunteered response outlined in the previous paragraph seemed to be aimed at
trying to identify, or individuate, a "theme" by means of an accompanying
'thought'. It now looks as if this can't be done without defining a 'thought' in
terms of utterances that are themselves supposedly identified by a "unitary
theme".
But, that in turn seems to mean that
"themes" may be individuated only if they have already been individuated!
Maybe we
could pair-off 'thoughts' with type utterances? Unfortunately, this would only
serve to undermine "theme's" context-dependency, since the same utterance would
implicate the same 'thought', and hence the same "theme", and that would just
loop the discussion back to where it was at the end of the last paragraph.
Perhaps an
appeal to meaning might help? But, again, if meaning is parasitic on
"theme", we are no further forward. Maybe the physical properties of an
utterance -- that is, the sound patterns associated with specific sets of
vibrating atoms or molecules -- could supply the principle of individuation for
"unitary themes"? Unfortunately, criteria of individuation for sets of already
identical atoms and molecules (distinguishable only by an appeal to even more
problematic spatial and temporal coordinates, scalar energy and vector fields)
aren't all that easy to construct (as
we have already seen). But, even if they were, this would still be of
little help. That is because those criteria would have to be expressed in
linguistic form, too, which would in turn attract the very same difficulties
that bedevilled the alleged "theme" they supposedly accompanied!
This
doesn't look like a very promising way out of this dialectical dungeon.38
Furthermore
-- and returning to an earlier theme (no pun intended) --, if utterances are to
be individuated by means of circumstances, and the latter are still
microstate-sensitive, a finite set of words could conceivably represent a
potentially infinite (or indefinitely large finite) set of such token
utterances (since there seems to be no upper limit on the different
circumstances surrounding each utterance if any one of the latter is paired-off
with one of the former), all with their own "unitary themes". Hence, and once
more, the question, "What time is it?" could in fact mean countless different
things because of the indefinite number of surrounding circumstances that might
accompany, or occasion, each of its exemplary utterances, all of which would
presumably instantiate their own "themes". Naturally, this would seem to imply
that since the meaning of "What time is it?" isn't fixed by context-independent
considerations (according to Voloshinov), it could exemplify any number of such
"unitary themes", as the micro-details of each nascent utterance required --
including those indicated or suggested during vocalisation, or those attendant
upon that utterance while it was in the process of being registered in a
hearer's 'consciousness', and so on.
Consequently, unless far more clearly defined criteria are provided (by those
sympathetic to Voloshinov's ideas) for counting, distinguishing, or identifying
utterances and "themes" (etc.), it seems impossible to decide whether there are
in fact countless "unitary themes" pairable, one-one, one-many, many-one, or
many-many, with utterances (interpreted as identifiable spoken tokens, etc.) --,
or whether there exist more complex sets of functional relations between
utterance tokens and "theme" tokens, or between utterance types and "theme"
tokens, and so on ad nauseam.
Having said
that, it is worth pointing out that the difficulties we face trying to
comprehend what Voloshinov could possibly have meant by what he wrote are
largely the result of the confused way in which he expressed himself. For
example, on the topic in hand (i.e., the individuation of "theme"), he had this
to say:
"The theme must be unitary, otherwise we
would have no basis for talking about any one utterance. The theme of an
utterance is individual and unreproducible, just as the utterance itself is
individual and unreproducible. The theme is the expression of the concrete,
historical situation that engendered the utterance. The utterance 'What time is
it?' has a different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with
our terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation…." [Ibid., p.99.]
From this,
as we saw earlier, it looks
like Voloshinov thought that an utterance could be individuated by its "theme":
"The theme must be unitary, otherwise we
would have no basis for talking about any one utterance…." [Ibid.]
On the other
hand, he clearly thought that "theme" was dependent on the concrete
circumstances surrounding it:
"The utterance 'What time is it?' has a
different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with our
terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation…." [Ibid.]
But, he
also appears to have believed that concrete circumstances were expressed by
"theme":
"The theme is the expression of the
concrete, historical situation that engendered the utterance." [Ibid.]
In addition,
it looks like Voloshinov thought that not only was "theme" unreproducible, so
were utterances:
"The theme of an utterance is individual
and unreproducible, just as the utterance itself is individual and
unreproducible." [Ibid.]
And yet, as
noted above, he then spoke about utterances being repeated:
"The utterance 'What time is it?' has a
different meaning each time it is used…." [Ibid. Emphasis added.]
So, an
utterance is and isn't
repeatable, hence its "theme" is and isn't unreproducible!
"The meaning of the utterance 'What time
is it?' -- a meaning that, of course, remains the same in all historical
instances of its enunciation", [Ibid., p.100.]
it also
looks like he believed that meaning
is fixed, after all, but only when the same utterance is produced,
something he had just said couldn't
happen!
Unfortunately, the bemused reader will search in vain in the articles written by
the aforementioned comrades for any help in comprehendingwhat on earth Voloshinov was
banging on about!39
Again, it
could be objected that the above seriously misrepresents Voloshinov in that it
ignores the clear distinction he drew between meaning and "theme":
"A definite and unitary meaning, a
unitary significance, is a property belonging to any utterance as a whole.
Let us call the significance of a whole utterance its theme. The theme
must be unitary, otherwise we would have no basis for talking about any one
utterance. The theme of an utterance is individual and unreproducible, just as
the utterance itself is individual and unreproducible. The theme is the
expression of the concrete, historical situation that engendered the utterance.
The utterance 'What time is it?' has a different meaning each time it is used,
and hence, in accordance with our terminology, has a different theme, depending
on the concrete historical situation….
"It follows, then, that the theme of an
utterance is determined not only by the linguistic forms that comprise it --
words, morphological and syntactic structures, sounds, and intonation -- but
also by extraverbal factors of the situation. Should we miss these situational
factors, we would be as little able to understand an utterance as if we were to
miss its most important words. The theme of an utterance is concrete -- as
concrete as the historical instant to which the utterance belongs….
"Together with theme or, rather, within
the theme, there is also the meaning that belongs to an utterance. By
meaning, as distinguished from theme, we understand all those aspects of the
utterance that are reproducible and self-identical
in all instances of repetition. Of course, these aspects are abstract: they have
no concrete, autonomous existence in an artificially isolated form, but, at the
same time, they do constitute an essential and inseparable part of the
utterance. The theme of an utterance is, in essence, indivisible. The meaning of
an utterance, on the contrary, does break down into a set of meanings belonging
to each of the various linguistic elements of which the utterance consists. The
unreproducible theme of the utterance 'What time is it?' taken in its
indissoluble connection with the concrete historical situation, cannot be
divided into elements. The meaning of the utterance 'What time is it?' -- a
meaning that, of course, remains the same in all historical instances of its
enunciation -- is made up of the meanings of the words…that form the
construction of the utterance.
"…On the other hand, a theme must base
itself on some kind of fixity of meaning; otherwise it loses its
connection with what came before and what comes after -- i.e., it altogether
loses its significance…." [Ibid., pp.99-100. Bold emphasis alone added.]
From this it
could be argued that Voloshinov actually acknowledged many of the points made
above, and consequently they can't be used against him. Unfortunately, however,
there are other things he said that undermine this 'sympathetic'
interpretation of his intentions:
"A definite and unitary meaning, a
unitary significance, is a property belonging to any utterance as a whole.
Let us call the significance of a whole utterance its
theme….
"…The theme must be unitary, otherwise
we would have no basis for talking about any one utterance. The theme of an
utterance is individual and unreproducible, just as the utterance itself is
individual and unreproducible. The theme is the expression of the concrete,
historical situation that engendered the utterance. The utterance 'What time
is it?' has a different meaning each time it isused, and hence, in
accordance with our terminology, has a different theme, depending on the
concrete historical situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions)
during which it is enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part….
"Together with theme or, rather, within
the theme, there is also the meaning that belongs to an utterance. By
meaning, as distinguished from theme, we understand all those aspects of the
utterance that are reproducible and self-identical
in all instances of repetition. Of course, these aspects are abstract: they
have no concrete, autonomous existence in an artificially isolated form,
but, at the same time, they do constitute an essential and inseparable part of
the utterance. The theme of an utterance is, in essence, indivisible. The
meaning of an utterance, on the contrary, does break down into a set of meanings
belonging to each of the various linguistic elements of which the utterance
consists….
"Theme is a complex, dynamic system
of signs that attempts to be adequate to a given instant of generative process.
Theme is reaction by the consciousness in its generative process to the
generative process of existence. Meaning is the technical apparatus for
the implementation of theme. Of course, no absolute, mechanistic boundary
can be drawn between theme and meaning. There is no theme without meaning and no
meaning without theme. Moreover, it is even impossible to convey the meaning
of a particular word…without having made it an element of theme, i.e., without
having constructed an 'example' utterance….
"Theme, as we have said, is an attribute
of a whole utterance only; it can belong to a separate word only inasmuch as
that word operates in the capacity of a whole utterance….
Meaning, on the other hand, belongs to an element or aggregate of elements in
their relation to the whole. Of course, if we entirely disregard this
relation to the whole (i.e., to the utterance), we shall entirely forfeit
meaning. That is the reason why a sharp boundary between theme and meaning
cannot be drawn.
"The most accurate way of formulating
the interrelationship between theme and meaning is in the following terms. Theme
is the upper, actual limit of linguistic significance; in essence, only
theme means something definite. Meaning is the lower limit
of linguistic significance. Meaning, in essence, means nothing; it only
possesses potentiality -- the possibility of having a meaning within a concretetheme…." [Ibid., pp.99-101. Bold emphases added; italic
emphases in the original.]
In this
extract, while Voloshinov distinguished "theme" from meaning, he also
identified the two, saying that:
"A
definite and unitary meaning, a unitary significance,
is a property belonging to any utterance as a whole. Let us call the
significance of a whole utterance its theme…." [Ibid., p.99.
Bold emphases added.]
"Unitary
meaning", "unitary significance" and "theme" are one and the same here.40
To be sure, Voloshinov later acknowledged that words (etc.) possess fixed
meanings, but he had already torpedoed that idea by his prior equation of
meaning with "theme" -- since the latter isn't fixed. Moreover, he added
the following thoughts:
"…The utterance 'What time is it?' has a
different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with our
terminology, has a different theme….
"There
is no theme without meaning and no meaning without theme. Moreover, it is even
impossible to convey the meaning of a particular word…without having
made it an element of theme, i.e., without having constructed an 'example'
utterance….
"…Meaning, on the other hand,
belongs to an element or aggregate of elements intheir relation to the
whole….
“…Meaning, in essence, means nothing;
it only possesses potentiality -- the possibility of having a meaning within a
concretetheme….
"...Therefore, there is no reason for
saying that meaning belongs to a word assuch. In essence,
meaning belongs to a word in its position between speakers; that is,
meaning is realized only in the process of active, responsive understanding…."
[Ibid., pp.99-102. Bold emphases added.]
All of these
appear to make fixity of meaning a rather empty notion for Voloshinov -- that
is, if meaning is indeed occasion-specific and context-dependent, or if it can
change with each utterance (and can't be ascertained apart from them), or,
indeed, if it is speaker-relative, too.
It could be
objected that this still misrepresents Voloshinov in that he is quite clear that
while there is no clear boundary separating these two notions, at the extreme
end of this continuum they are entirely different:
"The most accurate way of formulating
the interrelationship between theme and meaning is in the following terms. Theme
is the upper, actual limit of linguistic significance; in essence, only
theme means something definite. Meaning is the lower limit
of linguistic significance. Meaning, in essence, means nothing; it only
possesses potentiality -- the possibility of having a meaning within a concrete
theme…." [Ibid., p.101; italic
emphases in the original.]
But,
according to this, without an association with "theme", meaning "means nothing".
Moreover, we are given no clues as to how meaning can slowly appear along this
alleged continuum. Is, therefore, meaning like, say, the temperature of a metal
bar as it is being heated from cold to warm, and then to hot? But, what would be
an example of a 'tepid' sort of meaning? An utterance that was mumbled? Or, one
that was cut-off in mid-stream? Or, one that was uttered between two distinct
surrounding circumstances or locations, on the run, as it were? Indeed, what
sense can be made of half a meaning, or 25% of one?
Hence,
although Voloshinov does try to distinguish "theme" and meaning, the other
things he says identifies them, as pointed out above. For example:
"A definite and unitary meaning, a
unitary significance, is a property belonging to any utterance as a whole.
Let us call the significance of a whole utterance its theme. The
theme must be unitary, otherwise we would have no basis for talking about any
one utterance. The theme of an utterance is individual and unreproducible, just
as the utterance itself is individual and unreproducible. The theme is the
expression of the concrete, historical situation that engendered the utterance.
The utterance 'What time is it?' has a different meaning each time it is used,
and hence, in accordance with our terminology, has a different theme,
depending on the concrete historical situation…." [Ibid, p.99. Bold emphases
added; italic emphases in the original.]
Of
course, this quandary isn't helped by the fact that we still haven't got the
faintest idea what "theme" is!
The above
might still be regarded as a little unfair to Voloshinov, for he went on to
connect "theme" with "understanding":
"The distinction between theme and
meaning acquires particular clarity in connection with the problem of
understanding….
"Any genuine kind of understanding will
be active and will constitute the germ of a response. Only active understanding
can grasp theme -- a generative process can be grasped only with the aid of
another generative process.
"To understand another person's
utterance means to orient oneself with respect to it, to find the proper place
for it in the corresponding context. For each word of the utterance that we are
in process of understanding, we, as it were, lay down a set of our own answering
words. The greater their number and weight, the deeper and more substantial our
understanding will be.
"Thus each of the
distinguishable significative elements of an utterance and the entire
utterance as a whole entity are translated in our minds into another, active and
responsive, context. Any true understanding is dialogic in nature….
Understanding strives to match the speaker's word with a counter word….
"Therefore, there is no reason for
saying that meaning belongs to a word as such. In essence, meaning belongs to a
word in its position between speakers; that is, meaning is realized only in the
process of active, responsive understanding.
Meaning does not reside in the word or in the soul of the speaker or in the
soul of the listener. Meaning is the effect of interaction between speaker
and listener produced via the material of a particular sound complex. It is
like an electric spark that occurs only when two different terminals are hooked
together. Those who ignore theme (which is accessible
only to active, responsive understanding) and who, in attempting to define the
meaning of a word, approach its lower, stable, self-identical limit, want, in
effect, to turn on a light bulb after having switched off the current…."
[Ibid., pp.102-03. Bold emphasis added; italic emphasis in the original.]41
Here,
meaning is no longer linguistic (i.e., it no longer belongs to the use of a
word), it is essentially psychological, and is now a feature of the
interaction between at least two 'minds'. In that case, meaning
isn't:
"the lower limit
of linguistic significance. Meaning, in essence, means nothing; it only
possesses potentiality -- the possibility of having a meaning within a concrete
theme…." [Ibid., p.101.]
Nor is it
what we were earlier led to believe:
"The meaning of an utterance, on the
contrary, does break down into a set of meanings belonging to each of the
various linguistic elements of which the utterance consists. The
unreproducible theme of the utterance 'What time is it?' taken in its
indissoluble connection with the concrete historical situation, cannot be
divided into elements. The meaning of the utterance 'What time is it?' -- a
meaning that, of course, remains the same in all historical instances of its
enunciation -- is made up of the meanings of the words…that form the
construction of the utterance." [Ibid., p.100. Bold emphases added.]
Meaning has
now become:
"the effect of interaction between
speaker and listener produced via the material of a particular sound complex.
It is like an electric spark that occurs only when two different terminals are
hooked together. Those who ignore theme (which is accessible only to active,
responsive understanding) and who, in attempting to define the meaning of a
word, approach its lower, stable, self-identical limit, want, in effect, to turn
on a light bulb after having switched off the current…." [Ibid., p.102.]
[As we will
see later, Voloshinov has
clearly run-together several different meanings of "meaning"! In fact, as Note 23shows, if Voloshinov were
correct, inter-subjective understanding would be impossible.]
Nevertheless, even if we ignore these serious difficulties for now, the above
passages still can't help us in our understanding of Voloshinov's theory, since we are now entirely unclear about
both "theme" and meaning!
Moreover, if
understanding
were in fact dependent on translation, that would compound the problems
facing Voloshinov's theory even further. That is because a listener would have
no way of knowing whether his/her
translated words accurately represented the "theme" that his/her
interlocutor had (in fact?) intended, or had associated with their own words
when they were uttered, or, indeed, were associated with what they had said by
the 'concrete circumstances' of their utterance. Instead of having merely to
understand a speaker, a hearer would now have to unravel an
intrinsically inaccessible and un-reproducible "theme" before understanding
could even begin!
Worse still,
the "theme" associated with an utterance (according to the 'definition' we were
given) is totally unique; it can't have been experienced by that
individual, or by anyone else, for that matter, in all of human history --
ever. How then could anyone use this totally unique "theme" to assist in the
understanding of someone else's words? Naturally, this means that far from
assisting linguists or psychologists find a solution to the 'problem' of
understanding, the introduction of this radically obscure notion ("theme") isn't
just a
hindrance, it presents them with an completely insurmountable obstacle,
the equivalent of throwing an anvil at a drowning man.
Furthermore,
if all understanding involves
translation, then speakers themselves would fail to understand even their
own words. As seems reasonably obvious, if translation is to be successful,
it must represent that which is to be translated in a medium that is already
understood. But, if this prior understanding itself requires still
further translation (which it must do if, given this theory, all
understanding requires translation), then that just introduces yet
another infinite regress, with translation upon translation stacking-up in order
to facilitate each episode of "understanding".
Translation
has to take place in some language or other, which according to Voloshinov must
itself be
"theme"-dominated, and hence occasion-sensitive. That being the case, these
translations would now depend on resources which are themselves intrinsically
inaccessible, and would relate to speech-acts and surrounding circumstances that
are themselves sensitive to changes that take place every microsecond (according
to Voloshinov). Moreover, since no speaker has access to any of their own past
"themes" (or any at all!) to assist him or her in this endless "theme"-hunt,
they would be searching for the terminally ephemeral by means of the
psychologically unattainable. This is the equivalent of looking for a needle
in a haystack when (i) you have never seen a needle before, (ii) no one else has
either, and (iii) no one knows what a haystack is!
Consequently, on this account, speakers would
fail even to understand
themselves!
In that
case, the following would be impossible:
"Thus each of the distinguishable
significative elements of an utterance and the entire utterance as a whole
entity are translated in our minds into another, active and responsive, context.
Any true understanding is dialogic in nature…. Understanding strives to
match the speaker's word with a counter word…." [Ibid., p.102.]
If such
"counter words" have any meaning, they must also have a "theme", and if that is
so, hearers will fail to understand these words, and they will do so for the
above reasons. Furthermore,
even if the "theme" of an utterance were in fact accessible to speaker
and hearer alike, only a minor miracle would make the "theme" of a listener's
"counter word" coincide with the "theme" of the original utterance. Either way,
and once again, understanding and communication would fail.
The usual response to this line
of argument runs something like this:
E1: Well, we never really
understand one another, do we?
But, if that
were the case, we must fail to understand E1, too. And, if that is so,
any response that depends on E1 must also fail, for we wouldn't know what we
were being informed of by means of it!
This is
quite apart from the incongruity of being presented with a theory of
understanding that ends up denying there isn't any of it to be had!
[That is, if
anyone actually understands
this theory to begin with -- which, if E1 were true, they wouldn't, would they?]41a0
Conversely,
if understanding a particular translation required no further acts of
understanding, or of translation (that is, if the regress outlined above were
short-circuited somehow), it would then be pertinent to ask why translation
was introduced to account for understanding in the first place. If at some
unspecified point we succeed in comprehending our own 'translated' words
un-mediated, as it were, by any further
acts of translation (as this short-circuited variant would have it), why can't
we do this directly with the words others send our way? Why can't we just
understand them? Not only would this prevent the above regress (and the
subsequent attempt to block it on an ad hoc basis), it would conform with
what we already mean by "understanding" (as will be demonstrated below).
The only
conceivable reason for accepting the sort of psychologistic detour we met above
(which appeals to what appear to be occult acts of 'inner translation' to
account for understanding and the use of language) would seem to be that
comprehension is a private mental process that we accomplish directly by means
of "inner speech", or some such.
Now, we
don't have to appeal to the definitive case mounted by Wittgenstein against the
possibility of there being a "private
language" to oppose this approach to 'cognition'; Voloshinov's own
precepts rule it out, for he declares that:
"Meaning does not reside in the word
or in the soul of the speaker or in the soul of the listener. Meaning is the
effect of interaction between speaker and listener produced via the material of
a particular sound complex." [Ibid., pp.102-03. Bold emphasis alone added.]
In that
case, it is difficult to see why Voloshinov (or, indeed, any of his epigones)
found he had to appeal to translation
in order to account for our ability to understand one another, when, given
his own theory, it drops out of the picture. If anything, our
understanding accounts for translation, not the other way round --
otherwise, as noted above, the individual concerned wouldn't know whether or not
she/he had translated a given "sound complex" correctly.
Of course,
if could be argued that "correct" has no place here, since meaning is a
negotiation between speakers. But, if that were so, there would be no
distinction between translation and mistranslation, which would, naturally
undermine the possibility of translation itself, just as calculation would be
undermined if there were no distinction between calculation and miscalculation.
Be this as
it may, an earlier allegation that there is a tension in Voloshinov's work --
whereby, on the one hand, he wants to see language as a social product or
phenomenon, while, on the other, his ideas about "understanding" suggest that he
has fallen prey to the traditional theory that language and our capacity to
understand what is said depends on 'inner acts of intellection' -- now seems
correct.41a
Here is what
Voloshinov says, for example, about "understanding":
"Idealism and
psychologism alike overlook the fact that
understanding itself can come about only within some kind of semiotic material
(e.g., inner speech), that sign bears upon sign,
that consciousness itself can arise and become a viable fact only in the
material embodiment of signs...understanding is a response to a sign with
signs." [Ibid., p.11. Italic emphasis in the original.]
"In the first instance, to understand
means to refer a particular inner sign to a unity consisting of other inner
signs, to perceive it in the context of a particular psyche....
"Self-observation (introspection) is the
understanding of one's own inner sign.... We do not see or feel an experience we
understand it. This means that in the process of introspection we engage our
experience into a context made up of other signs we understand. A sign can only
be illuminated with the help of another sign." [Ibid., pp.35-36. Italic
emphases in the original.]
This is unfortunate since, if the above
were the case, human beings
couldn't evenbegin to "understand" anything. That is because we
aren't born with 'signs' in our heads (or in our 'consciousness') -- unless we
assume that a baby has a set of 'innate' signs in her/his 'psyche'. Hence, if
acts of understanding were indeed a function of the relation between signs, as
Voloshinov says, they couldn't take place. After all, "a sign can only be
illuminated with the help of another sign", so, if we have none to begin with,
the process of "illumination" can't even begin. [On this, see
Note 23.]
Despite this, it is rather odd to say
that our heads are full of "signs" --, or, perhaps that "consciousness itself
can arise and become a viable fact only in the material embodiment of signs" --
since Voloshinov isn't too clear what he means by "sign". Hence, not much can be
done with this peculiar idea of his. [However, I will return to this topic
later.]
Anyway, the above comments at least pin
Voloshinov's flag to the traditionalist mast: understanding for him is (in the
"first instance") an inner, private affair. Despite his other gestures to the
contrary, he has clearly failed to break decisively with Platonic, Christian,
and
Cartesian Mythology. Plainly,
this is one "ruling idea" that has landed, and set up home in, yet another
radical "psyche".
[Alas,
other comrades seem to have caught the same bug.]
One response
to the above might run along the lines that hearers have to (in Voloshinov's
words) "orient" themselves toward a speaker's utterance:
"To understand another person's
utterance means to orient oneself with respect to it, to find the proper
place for it in the corresponding context. For each word of the utterance that
we are in process of understanding, we, as it were, lay down a set of our own
answering words. The greater their number and weight, the deeper and more
substantial our understanding will be." [Ibid., p.102. Bold emphasis added.]
Clearly, this must involve the translation of the latter's words into the
listener's own
idiolect --
or perhaps into their own "inner speech":
"Idealism and psychologism alike
overlook the fact that understanding itself can come about only within some kind
of semiotic material (e.g., inner speech), that sign bears upon sign,
that consciousness itself can arise and become a viable fact only in the
material embodiment of signs...understanding is a response to a sign with
signs." [Ibid., p.11. Italic emphasis in the original.]
Quite apart
from the fact that Voloshinov offered no empirical evidence to substantiate this
bizarre idea (that we accompany the speech of others with strings of our own
words -- i.e., "inner speech", or "counter words" -- in order to comprehend our
interlocutors), any parallel dialogue like this would actually get in the way
of our attending to what was being said. It would be rather like having to
put up with an irritating 'inner
i-Pod' -- which
couldn't be ignored, turned down or switched off while we struggled to listen to
what was being said to us.41b
Even if such
an 'inner running-commentary' actually took place, it still wouldn't explain how
we succeed in understanding anything said to us, for it would clearly fail to
account for our immediate
comprehension of the words (i.e., the "signs" that appear in "inner speech")
that these 'inner i-Pods' themselves constantly pump into our 'inner ears'. If
all understanding requires
such "inner speech", the constant din of this inner nuisance would surely have
to be accompanied by an even 'inner inner i-Pod', ('inner, inner speech')
if it, too, is to be comprehended, and so on,
ad infinitem.
On the other
hand, if we
directly understand our own individual 'inner i-Pods' (this "inner speech")
without recourse to any further such devices (that is, if this infinite regress
is terminated at the first stage), then what reason could there be for not
stopping it one stage earlier still? Why may we not understand each other's
words directly and dispense with these spooky 'inner voices'/'inner
signs'? If we understand "inner speech" directly, then why not 'outer' speech?
[As we saw
above, the only reason for supposing that we can't understand 'outer speech'
directly without the intercession of these 'inner voices' -- the latter of which
we seem to be able to comprehend directly without any further intercession by an
'inner, inner voice' -- is that, for Voloshinov, understanding is an
individualised, secret, 'inner process'. On this, see the
next section.]
Furthermore,
the mere correlation
of two parallel streams of language (wherein an 'inner' dialogue supposedly
accompanies its 'outer' correlate, as one or both are processed in the Central
Nervous System [CNS], one presumes) doesn't establish that one of them is the
translation of the other, any more than talking aloud in English while a Russian
film is on TV counts as translating it. And this remains the case even if the
one doing the talking actually understands Russian. Hence, even if we could
comprehend the nature of "inner speech", it wouldn't establish that a successful
translation had been accomplished by means of it.
It would
count as a translation of the former only if the words they contained had the
same meaning (and presumably the same "theme") as those which they sought to
translate, but according to this theory,
no two utterances can have the same "theme"
(and thus not even the same meaning), so these annoying 'inner voices' would be
no use at all (even if they existed!). Just like the antics of an
incompetent translator, this ghostly charade would get no translation right,
since there is, on this view,
no such thing to be had!
The sensible
theorist, therefore, will switch this annoying device off -- or, perhaps better
still, question its existence to begin with.42
As noted
earlier, the only apparent reason for rejecting the above objections would have
to be based on the belief that "inner speech" is immediate to
'consciousness', and is therefore instantly comprehensible -- simply because
it is "inner". This view in turn trades on the further idea that when
something is inside our heads (or is part of the CNS, perhaps?), a sort of
internal, ghostly viewer or listener takes over and does the translating and the
understanding (directly and without further translation), for us. There
is no other way to make sense of the metaphors Voloshinov and others use here.
If so,
intimate, internal proximity seems to be the factor that renders such speech
automatically comprehensible. In contrast, speech that is 'outer' somehow
prevents, or, at least, fails to facilitate, understanding (in the "first
instance -- p.35.).43
In that case, it looks like the mere fact that such speech is inner means
that it is capable of being grasped directly without the need for another
even more inner, inner 'meta-translating' device to act as the next intercessor
in the chain. But, as noted above, if "inner speech" is indeed speech,
presumably it too must be occasion-sensitive. And yet, if that is so,
the elusive "theme" associated with each inner representation of the utterances
encountered in 'outer speech' will be even more inaccessible than the
"theme" allegedly associated with its intended outer correlate. And, as noted
above, short of a minor miracle, there is no way these two speech episodes could
have identical "themes", given the strictures
Voloshinov placed on "theme".
If, on the
other hand, "inner speech"
isn't occasion-sensitive (and thus has no "theme") then we are owed an
explanation as to why it should be called "speech" in the first place, and why
(in the second) this use of "signs" is exempt from -- while their outer
correlates are still subject to -- occasion-sensitivity. Indeed, if "inner
speech" isn't
itself occasion-sensitive, then how could it help translate "theme" accurately
if the "theme" of 'outer speech' is occasion-sensitive? And, if
"inner speech"
has no "theme" then how might it be understood? Hw might it have any meaning?
43a
"There is no theme without meaning and no meaning without theme. Moreover, it is even
impossible to convey the meaning of a particular word…without having
made it an element of theme, i.e., without having constructed an 'example'
utterance…." [Ibid., p.100. Bold emphasis added.]
Indeed, "inner speech" can't be understood if it has no "theme". This isn't just
my view, it is Voloshinov's:
"…The theme must be unitary, otherwise
we would have no basis for talking about any one utterance. The theme of an
utterance is individual and unreproducible, just as the utterance itself is
individual and unreproducible. The theme is the expression of the concrete,
historical situation that engendered the utterance. The utterance 'What time is
it?' has a different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with
our terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions) during which it is
enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part.
"It follows, then, that the theme of an
utterance is determined not only by the linguistic forms that comprise it --
words, morphological and syntactic structures, sounds, and intonation -- but
also by extraverbal factors of the situation. Should we miss these
situational factors, we would be as little able to understand an utterance as if
we were to miss its most important words. The theme of an utterance is
concrete -- as concrete as the historical instant to which the utterance
belongs.
Only an utterance taken in its full, concrete scope as an historical
phenomenon possesses a theme. That is what is meant by the theme of an
utterance." [Voloshinov (1973), pp.99-100. Bold emphases alone added.]
And yet,
Voloshinov situates understanding
in the psyche, which means the "signs" comprising "inner speech" must
have a "theme" of their own:
"In the first instance,
to understand means to refer a particular inner sign to a unity
consisting of other inner signs, to perceive it in the context of a
particular psyche....
"Now in what form do we receive the
psyche, receive inner signs, for observation and study? In its pure form, the
inner sign, i.e., experience, is receivable only by self-observation
(introspection)....
"The fact is, after all, that inner sign
is the object of introspection and inner sign, as such, can also be outer sign.
Inner speech could indeed be given voice....
"Self-observation (introspection) is the
understanding of one's own inner sign.... We do not see or feel an experience we
understand it. This means that in the process of introspection we engage our
experience into a context made up of other signs we understand. A sign can only
be illuminated with the help of another sign." [Ibid., p.36. Italic
emphases in the original.]
But, as
noted above, if the "signs" comprising "inner speech" attract a "theme" of their
own, understanding must fail:
Hence, even if we could comprehend the nature of "inner speech", it wouldn't
establish that a successful translation had been accomplished by means of it.
It would count as a translation of the former only if the words they contained
had the same meaning (and presumably the same "theme") as those which they
sought to translate, but according to this theory,
no two utterances can have the same "theme"
(and thus not even the same meaning), so these annoying 'inner voices' would be
no use at all (even if they existed!). Just like the antics of an
incompetent translator, this ghostly charade would get no translation right,
since there is, on this view,
no such thing to be had!
[This passage has been quoted from
here.]
The
traditional account (i.e., one that holds that 'thinking' (etc.) takes place
'inside the head') is in fact derived from the mystical idea that
'consciousness'/the 'soul' can be likened to
a sort of internal viewer of, or
listener to, the contents of the 'mind'/brain -- somewhat similar to the way a
cinemagoer watches a film in an auditorium, only this is supposed to be far
more intimate. This metaphor implies that 'consciousness' operates like a
sort of linguistically-challenged, sub-, or quasi-human 'entity', a social atom
located somewhere in the cerebral, psychological or verbal universe. In
Voloshinov's work, as we have just seen, this 'inner auditorium' re-surfaces as
the "psyche", which is a sort of semi-passive, mute 'inner couch potato', whose
only job, it seems, is juggling with, and comparing, whatever "signs" manage to
drift its way.
It is
"semi-passive" since it looks like this ghostly
head-lodger isn't permitted to translate "inner speech" into speech that
is even more inner
so that it can understand the original "inner speech", in order to forestall the
infinite regress alluded to above. This ethereal, internal individual certainly
doesn't seem to engage in any practical activity; no one imagines it jogs
about inside the skull, finds employment in a
mitochondrial power plant, or agitates neurons into working-to-rule. It
certainly enjoys no social connections of any sort.
Alternatively, this trope might suggest that whether or not inner
'consciousness' possesses its own 'inner, inner language', it need never
use it because plain and simple "inner speech" can be
understood directly with no need of further acts of intercession. In that
case, this 'inner spectator' would be a sort of taciturn but highly intuitive
(if not magically gifted) 'inner couch potato', since it wouldn't need to
translate "inner speech" into something even more 'inner' in order to comprehend
it.
Indeed, it would appear to be an 'inner
projection' of ourselves, just as 'god' is an 'outer projection'.
Small wonder, then, since this view originated in Christian and Platonic
Mysticism, and was given its modern shape by Descartes. Voloshinov's "psyche" is
clearly the correlate of the Cartesian 'soul'
One or other
of these alternatives would have to be the case if translation is to stop at
some point, and this semi-passive 'cranium squatter' is to 'understand'
things directly (and then 'explain' them somehow to us -- perhaps we have
'inner ears', too?) without the need for still more 'inner, inner, inner...'
intercessors.43b
On either
account, the connection between the
use of language and understanding has been severed -- which result seems
to be contrary to Voloshinov's own stated aims. That is because, even given
this approach, language drops out of the picture, since, at some point,
"translation" must be effected in a non-linguistic form or medium,
'intuitively', as it were. Understanding has in the end to be divorced from the
use of language to avoid the infinite regress of ever 'inner, inner couch
potatoes', required by this theory in order to facilitate the entire process.
Comprehension thus becomes a non-linguistic, sui generis,
feature of our private 'mental' lives. But, if comprehension works like this
(i.e., if it is in the end 'inner', direct and immediate), then the
motivation to provide an explanation for it by postulating such 'inner
processes' vanishes. If we all understand one another in such a direct way
at some point, why postulate the need for "inner speech" to assist us? Other
than serving to confuse the easily confused, what possible role can it play?
So, even on this account,
"inner speech" does no work; at some point we all seem just to understand one
another.43c
[Any who
reckon this misrepresents Voloshinov should consult
Note 23, and then perhaps think again.]
Once more,
if 'inner understanding' is itself
sui generis and spontaneous, needing no further acts of intercession, why
can't everyday 'outer' understanding work in the same way? What possible reason
could there be for an internal device of this sort to provide an inner sanctum
where language is finally processed. Indeed, what is the point if, in the end,
we end up with an explanation of understanding that simply reduplicates the
'problems' associated with whatever it supposedly replaced, and which mystifies
the phenomenon into the bargain (by locating it in a hidden and inaccessible
realm)? What is gained by an appeal to an 'inner' process that works just like
the outer one for which it was supposed to provide some sort of explanation? If
the immediate understanding of one human being by another is indeed a
'problem' (which requires a philosophical and/or scientific 'solution'), why is
the reduplication of that very same 'problem' in an occult, 'inner'
sanctum deemed a significant advance? If in the end understanding is something
we just do (if it is a basic fact about all of us), then why do we need
to burrow away inside our heads to find a more basic process that merely
reproduces the very thing that needed 'explaining' in the first place: the
intelligent use of language by humans who in the end typically understand one
another immediately?43d
At this
point, and as noted in several other Essays (for example,
here and
here), the
atomistic
nature of the traditional theory (that understanding, etc, takes place in our
heads) should be obvious for all to see, for the 'explanatory' core of this
approach to language presents us with what looks suspiciously like an isolated
individual -- beloved of bourgeois ideology -- lodged inside each head.
This oracular, cranial squatter -- who differs from the
Cartesian 'soul' in name alone
-- is, on this account (and not surprisingly), far removed from the affairs of
communal life. Such a speechless atom would have no need of a public language --
nor would it require socialisation. Its 'discourse' (if such it may be called)
can't in fact be social, it is manifestly 'inner' and private.
Nevertheless,
private property in the means of speech production sits rather awkwardly with
what is supposed to be a Marxist account of language.
If we
continue the above theme (no pun intended), we encounter another, related,
problem: even if the 'representational' view of language were correct, how could
language actually represent things to this 'inner spectator'? Voloshinov
talks as if "signs" are able to do this all on their own, perhaps as we
internally compare them
(which signs seem to carry their meaning on their faces, as it were). But,
who views these inner "signs" is left a complete mystery -- unless, of
course, we postulate an 'inner eye', or an 'inner observer', to fit the bill.
Anyway, how can sounds or words
communicate anything to a mere
viewer of pictures (or, indeed, a hearer of sounds)? Surely, they
could only do this if this 'inner watcher' was already a language user,
and possessed 'inner, inner eyes' or 'inner, inner ears' of her/his own -- along
with an 'inner' social life, whereby these skills were first acquired.44
If our 'outer' social life and our 'outer' eyes and ears aren't enough, then how
can these 'inner' sense organs take up the slack? In what way are they
superior to the skills we have all acquired as part of our socialisation?
In fact, and
to the contrary, an 'inner spectator' like this is nothing more than a little
man/woman "in the head", with no family, friends or acquaintances -- entirely
'self-socialised' and 'self-educated'.45
Naturally,
the metaphor used earlier (i.e., that cinema-going head-lodger) itself
suggested this 'inner spectator' interpretation, but even if this analogy were
inapt, how else are we to make sense of these "inner representations" to
'consciousness'? What is the point of using the word "represent" (that is, if we
interpret Voloshinov's own words in
this way) if there is no one to whom anything is represented? If
this word means what we ordinarily take it to mean (that is, if we don't
misrepresent its meaning, or fail to regard it as the
transitive verb
that it is, and which requires an object -- without an object, a viewer
of these 'representations', they would be like pictures hung by a robot in a
gallery that no one has ever visited, or can visit), then this account
clearly depends on yet another homunculus theory of the mind.45a
Here is
Voloshinov's metaphor (which suggests he accepted his own version of this
'theory'):
"Individual consciousness is not the
architect of the ideological superstructure, but only a tenant lodging in the
social edifice of ideological signs." [Voloshinov (1973), pp.12-13. Bold
emphasis added.]
So,
according to Voloshinov, instead of having to endure an interminable i-Pod,
with no 'Off' button, inside our skulls, we all seem to have an invisible
internal friend who sifts through the myriad of sensory inputs the
CNS
sends his/her/its way, all of which are then 'represented' to this 'friend' so
they can be communicated somehow to each of us. This inner invisible companion
must, of course, explain everything to us --, presumably by 'whispering' in our
'inner ears', making use of inner "inner speech" -- since we seem incapable of
understanding anything without him/her/it intercessing on our behalf.46
Naturally, this means that there would
have to be at least two of these 'cerebral squatters' inside each skull:
one to do the explaining and one the listening. Worse still, each of these
homunculi would themselves have to have similar, but smaller 'friends' in
their minds/brains/heads to 'whom' things are likewise 'represented', and so
on... We might then wonder how we ever manage to hear anything above the din, as
this potentially infinite body of jabbering Russian Dolls went about their
cacophonous daily business.47
Figure One: The Human Psyche?
In July
2015,
Disney Pixar released an animated, children's film,
Inside Out (and in 2024, Inside Out 2),
which inadvertently exposed the absurdity of the 'Homunculus Theory' of 'the
mind':
Videos One, Two, And Three: Disney's
'Little People In The Head'
On the other
hand, if understanding is made manifest by our competent use of language
(alongside associated skills and performances) in a public domain, then
an appeal to the intercession of "inner speech" to facilitate it, is
unnecessary. Indeed, we don't need to anthropomorphise
the brain/'mind'/CNS
in this way in order to account for our ability to comprehend one another --,
since, of course, there is nothing here that needs accounting for.48
The contrary
supposition (i.e., that "inner speech" is essential to understanding) is clearly
motivated by a powerful set of ideological illusions, chief among which is the
belief that unless something is internalised it can't be understood. This
by-now-familiar representational view of language and thought is itself
based on the idea that it is mere proximity and
internal immediacy
that renders "inner speech" directly comprehensible to 'consciousness'. That is,
it is the inner manipulation of
signs
and/or symbols (or their physical or psychical correlates) that constitutes
understanding, as opposed to 'outer' communication, behavioural competence and
social interaction that does. [On this,
see below.]
It is also
plain that the traditional picture is itself motivated by yet another set of
inappropriate
nominalisations
and
reifications
of everyday words -- terms that ordinarily express or exhibit our intellectual
and linguistic skills, dispositions and states --, a wrong turn that is
compounded by their consequent
fetishisation.48a
This
traditional approach runs along the following (highly truncated) lines: if
'consciousness', 'language' and 'the understanding' are in fact objects or inner
processes (and who can possibly doubt that if they have been given
names?), or if they are based on these inner objects and processes, a
successful theory (especially if it hopes to be
'scientific' and 'philosophical') must account for their
inter-relationship.
However,
these 'inner entities' have been conjured into existence by the simple
expedient of 'naming' them -- which plainly divides and then separates one from
another by objectifying, or
reifying, them. Because of such moves these separated 'items' now
require a 'theory' to re-connect them! Enter Traditional Philosophy and
contemporary Cognitive 'Science'.49
But, this is an attempt to find a
'solution' to a bogus problem. Bogus, because the original
distinction between these 'internal objects and processes' was motivated by
these inappropriate linguistic moves, and nothing more.
Attempt because it is impossible to complete the task this pseudo-problem
presents those who invented it, or who now try to wrestle with it, since these
entities (i.e., 'consciousness', 'language' and 'the understanding', etc.) are
figments of the imagination, motivated by the reification and fetishisation of a
handful of concepts.50
As any
competent user of the language may readily confirm, this isn't how we already
use words like "understand", "think"
and "to be aware"; we don't employ them to name inner objects and processes.
This is revealed by the further fact that we ordinarily decide, for instance,
whether someone has understood what is said to them by an appeal to outer
criteria. We don't examine the contents of their heads, or try to access
their mental imagery. If this is what we mean by "understanding" (that is, if we
apply this word successfully on the basis of outer criteria like this, which
cri8teria are associated with publicly checkable performances, skills and
achievements (as opposed to hidden and mysterious inner 'events'), then the
employment of this word to depict what goes on inside our heads will be
seen for what it is -- the
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm in
all but name.
Naturally,
this last set of bald assertions needs some defending --
but, fortunately, no much.
Undeniably,
language has developed and grown as result of the material interaction between
human beings and the world. Manifestly, this didn't
take place as a result of the occult deliberations of an obscure, inner
ethereal entity (i.e., "consciousness", or "thought") beloved of tradition.
That
observation isn't just consonant with a Marxist view of the social nature of
language and human beings, it agrees with everyday linguistic and social
practice. When studying the social and intellectual development of humanity,
for example, archaeologists and historians would make no progress at all if they
attempted to consider the machinations of these mythical inner objects and
processes.51
What they do (what we all do), of course, is examine the conditions under which
our ancestors lived -- the social and political forms they assumed --, their
struggles, writings, inter-relationships, means of production, relations of
exploitation, etc., etc. In addition to this, the study of artefacts,
inscriptions, buildings, coffins, possessions, property relations, class
structures, and so on, would add detail, where necessary. This is what
constitutes an HM study of the past
(and of the present, for that matter). If language is intimately
connected with humanity's social development, then a materialist account of
discourse and comprehension need take no heed of these hidden, 'inner objects
and processes', even if sense could be made of them.
'Inner
processes' like these aren't hidden from us because they are especially
well-concealed, difficult to locate or inspect;
there is in fact nothing there to study -- or, rather, it makes no
sense to suppose there is -- and this is so for reasons given above (which are
further elaborated upon below).
The contrary supposition
that there are such occult (i.e., hidden) goings-on is often motivated by
yet another inappropriate use of language, itself a result of the influence of
an archaic tradition, the aforementioned Platonic-Christian-Cartesian
Paradigm -- and nothing more. Apart from a crass misuse of words,
allied with this mystical tradition, there is nothing to suggest that such
'inner processes' exist. Indeed, that is why it was asserted above that these
mysterious 'inner objects and processes' are immaterial (in both senses of that
word); they couldn't feature in a materialist account of anything since
they don't exist (or rather, once again, no sense can be made of the supposition
that they do). In our practice we take no heed of them; our material use
of language and our shared behaviour show that such 'objects and
processes' are
chimerical.51a
The social
nature of language implies that individuals aren't free to attach their own
private meaning to words so that they become the meaning of those words
-- least of all a meaning that runs counter to the open, public application of
terms like "understand", "thought", and "to be aware". This is partly because
whatever personal gloss might be put on any such words -- as is the case with
other social products, such as commodities --, their meaning or 'value' is fixed
by outer, not 'inner', material conditions. [This topic will be examined in more
detail presently.]
Hence,
despite his disclaimers, Voloshinov's theory not only depends on just such a
reification of language, it relies on an anthropomorphisation of the mind or
brain. That is, it depends on a
inner projection of outer social categories
onto the aforementioned fictional, 'inner
couch potato' -- i.e., onto what is, in all but name, the
Cartesian Soul.
These
seemingly dogmatic assertions will now be defended.
To
summarise: In connection with Voloshinov's claims about translation and
"orienting" ourselves to another's speech, it is worth noting that unless
listeners could confirm that they had translated their interlocutor's words into
their 'own language' correctly they would be in no position to say
whether or not they had successfully "oriented" themselves toward that speaker,
to begin with. But, how could they do that without already
havingunderstood
what was said? Otherwise, any translation is going to seem right -- in which
case we can't talk about "right" (to paraphrase Wittgenstein).51b
Hence, the
'theory' of understanding being examined here implies that there must be a
correct pre-translation of a speaker's words into the "inner speech" of
his/her hearers if they are to "orient" themselves to that speaker correctly. If
so, the claim that speakers have to "orientate" themselves to one another if
they are to understand what is said is the reverse of the truth. They would in
fact have to understand the words spoken to them before
orientation could even begin (otherwise, on this 'theory' the supposed
translation would itself be incomprehensible). In that case, the appeal to
translation and orientation to account for understanding is an empty gesture,
since it, too, would require the pre-existence of the very thing they had been
introduced to explain -- i.e., the inter-subjective understanding of language.
Once again
we see that the idea that understanding is a mysterious 'inner process' in need
of scientific 'explanation' underlies this traditional approach to language, and
because of that our capacity to understand one another is turned into a
'philosophical problem'. But, there could be no philosophical
problem concerning 'the understanding' that required for its resolution the
application of a some sort of linguistic or psychological Superscience.51c
That is because we should already have to be expert in the use of the
word "understanding" even to be able to comprehend the formulation of the
'problem', let alone grasp its supposed 'solution'.
Naturally,
this isn't to suggest that most scientists and philosophers don't find
'understanding' problematic, but that 'difficulty' is a direct result of
conceptual confusion.
This can be
seen from the fact that if scientists, for example, didn't already
comprehend the word "understanding", they would be in no position to put
together a single coherent sentence that expressed even the suspicion
that there was a problem concerning 'understanding', to begin with -- nor would
they be able to comprehend any of the proposed 'solutions'.
And that
goes for Philosophers, too.
That is why
the difficulties theorists claim to find with the use of words like
"understanding" (and a host of other related terms) can be attributed to
conceptual confusion; if they weren't already masters of this word, its
application and associated vocabulary, they couldn't function as educated or
competent adults. The fact that they find these concepts 'problematic' when
they theorise about them -- as opposed to when they use this word
along with its associated termscorrectly every day -- shows they are
conceptually confused. 'Problems' only arise when an attempt is made to
interpret these terms theoretically (i.e., 'philosophically'), as the supposed
names of these mysterious 'inner processes' (etc.).
Either that,
or they are being deliberately disingenuous.
It could be
objected here that the mere fact that we are competent users of certain words
doesn't mean that understanding and communication aren't problematic. Human
beings, for example, used words like "water" successfully for centuries, but it
is ridiculous to suppose they understood its nature (i.e, its chemical structure
or why it behaved the way it does) just because of that. In this case,
the difficulty for scientists is to give a scientific account of how
human understanding works; this task is therefore one of providing a scientific
and in some cases a materialist, theory of the way we internalise, or make sense
of what is said to us (etc.). To give an analogy: able-bodied people can walk,
but that doesn't mean that they know how they manage to do that (i.e., what
muscles they use, etc.). And yet that doesn't prevent scientists from studying
the physiology of walking in order to discover its underlying mechanisms, etc.
Or, so
an objection might go.
Alas, the
above analogy is lame. First of all, our capacity to walk is plain for all to
see, as is the existence of water. That capacity, and that substance, weren't
conjured into existence by inappropriate nominalisations and reifications, as is
the case with the internal processes assumed to be identical with, or
constitutive of, understanding. Second, we don't use walking in order to
comprehend our ambulatory skills, but we have to understand something before
it can become part of theexplanation of anything
-- and that includes the supposed 'inner processes' associated with
understanding itself, as well as the nature of water. That requirement can't
be bypassed or circumvented. In short, we have to be experts at using
language intelligently in order to grasp the supposed 'problem', in the first
place, let alone its alleged 'solution'. But, in this respect we already
know all there is to know about the use of the word "understanding", and its
related vocabulary.
If we didn't, we would certainly fail to comprehend the original
'problem' as well as any proposed 'solution'. This isn't the case with walking
or with the study of the chemistry of water. [Naturally, that fact doesn't
prevent anyone studying the physical concomitants of walking, or the chemistry
of water.]
So, the
insistence that we need a theory
of how 'understanding' works (as part of a scientific or philosophical account
of 'the mind') was, as a matter of fact, first motivated by a series of
linguistic
false moves, and nothing more. As noted above, traditionally, the phrase
"the understanding" (and related concepts and expressions) were interpreted as
the names of inner processes (as part of the
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian tradition), and that was in turn motivated by
the
nominalisation of verbs like "to understand", "to think", "to imagine"
(etc.). This means that the onlyevidence that there are such
'inner objects and processes' is a series of spurious nominalisations and
incautious reifications!52
It is worth
emphasising this point since most theorists either ignore it or fail to
recognise its significance: the
only 'evidence' that there are any
wild geese here that need chasing is a spurious set of nominalisations.
Hence, this phoney 'chase' depends
solely on the idea that if there are names for these inner
'objects' and 'processes', there must be objects and processes (in nature, or in
our heads) which answer to them. [We have met 'word-magic' like this several
times in other Essays at this site -- particularly
here, and
here.]
In fact, to
call a philosophical investigation of this sort a "wild
goose chase" would be to slander wild geese -- at least they had the decency to exist
before they were chased!
Again, it
could be objected that somethingphysical
must be responsible for our understanding if we are to base it on real material
processes. In that case, as materialists we have little choice but to attribute
the capacity to form thoughts (etc.) to processes at work in the
CNS -- mediated by
practice, subjectivity and ideology, etc., etc. Such thoughts and processes are
emergent properties of complex structures, and have evolved as result of our
intelligent use of language -- which were themselves materially-, and
dialectically-grounded in our social and economic development. In that case, the
nominalisations referred to above needn't imply that a single 'entity'
answering to a given Proper Name is responsible for all, or even most, of our
psychological abilities, qualities, processes, states, skills and affectations.
It could be the case that a series of (suitably complex, dialectical) processes
in the brain (mediated by the other features mentioned above) underpin the
original emergence of 'consciousness', and thus of understanding (etc.), from
its material base.52a
Or, so
it might be maintained...
Allied with this is the claim that we use our brains to think. In that case,
it might be a good idea to examine that particular claim in more detail. So,
for the purposes of argument let usassume we do use our brains to think.
Well, we
certainly use books, pens, paper, computers -- even our hands and feet (and much
else besides) -- to do whatever we choose to do with them, but without a brain
we couldn't use or do anything at all.
I presume
all are agreed on that.
However,
if we did use our brains -- and we now agree we need a brain to
use anything
-- then that must mean we would have to use our brains in order to use our
brains! But, if that were the case, we would soon have an infinite regress,
since we would have to use our brains in order to use our brains, in order to
use our brains, in order to...
If so, it makes no sense to suppose we use our
brains to do anything.
[That
shouldn't be taken to mean that the present author thinks the brain is a
redundant organ! After all, it has just been asserted that without a brain we
wouldn't be able to do anything at all.]
Admittedly,
the above conclusion isn't just controversial, it seems to be both
counter-intuitive and
un-scientific -- hence, preposterous. In which case, it might be
worth developing the above argument more slowly, carefully and in more detail,
to see if a mistake has been made somewhere and to answer any objections
that could be raised against it.
We may
perhaps begin with this uncontroversial assumption (to which few, if any, would
demur):
P1:Having a brain is a necessary condition
for being able to doanything at all.
From which
we may perhaps argue as follows:
P2: If P1 were the case,
we would need another brain to use our brains.
P3:
But, we
don't have a spare brain; we have only one brain each.
P4:
Therefore, we don't use our brains.
P5: If
we don't use our brains, we certainly don't use our brains to think.
Of course,
that doesn't imply thinking doesn't take place in the brain, only that if
it does take place there, we wouldn't be in control of our thinking,
since we don't use our brains.
In response, it might be countered that we think
withour brains, but it is unclear what that means. If it means that
having a brain is a necessary condition for us to be able to do anything at all
(i.e., P1), then, once again, that is uncontroversial. On the other hand,
if it means we use our brains
to think (which is its most natural interpretation), then no sense can be
made of it (and for the above reasons).
Furthermore,
any suggestion to the contrary (i.e., that we do in fact use our brains to
think) clearly implies a modified form of Cartesianism. That is because it means
there is 'something'
over-and-above the brain that uses the brain to think. But, what
can this 'something' be other than the 'soul', or maybe a disembodied or
non-material 'mind'? Either that, or it implies that each of us has an
homunculus (a little man) in our heads that uses our brains (or even employs
'his' own brain) to do the thinking for us. That would be rather like the set-up
suggested in the Disney film,
Inside Out (and in 2024, Inside Out 2).
But, does this 'little man in the head' also have a brain? If so, the same
problems would applies to 'him'. 'He' can't use 'his' brain to think, either! On
the other hand, if 'he' has no brain -- and
having a brain is a necessary condition for anyone
to be able to do anything at all (i.e., P1) --,
then this 'little man' wouldn't be able to do anything, let alone do any
thinking for us.
P1:Having a brain is a necessary condition
for being able to doanything at all.
Some readers
might counter with a claim that that the "I" here refers to the individual
concerned. However, there are good reasons to think otherwise (on that, see
Anscombe (1975), and Hacker (1993a), pp.207-28). But, even if "I" were a
referring expression that designated the individual concerned, its use here
would still suggest that there was something identifiable and 'internal'
to each individual that was separate from the brain (another brain?),
which uses the brain to do the thinking. But, as pointed out above, if
having a brain is a necessary condition for being able to doanything
at all (P1, again!), then this "I" would also need a brain to use its
brain, and so on...
It could be
objected that the brain uses itself, or even that a part of the brain -- a
module, perhaps -- uses other parts to do the thinking. However, if
having a brain is a necessary condition for being able to doanything
at all (P1), and the brain used itself to think, then the
brain would need a second brain in order to do that --, or even cause a given
module to think. Down that route I fear lies yet another infinite regress -- as
in: the brain needs a brain, which needs a brain, which needs a brain, which
needs..., to think.
Is this perhaps still
being a little too hasty?
In that
case, we can slow down the argument even more.
To that end,
let us suppose that apart
of the brain uses another part to think. These 'parts' could be:
(i) Entirely
separate from one another;
(ii)
Partially interlinked among themselves; or,
(iii)
Completely inter-connected with every other part/module of/in the brain.
Let us call
the part of the brain that does any of the above, "B(1)", and the part
that does the thinking as a result -- or which is controlled by B(1) -- "B(2)".
In that case, B(1)
does no thinking itself, B(2) does it all under the control of B(1).
[B(1) can be as simple or as complex and multi-layered as any given
theory needs it to be.]
But, if that
were so, we wouldn't need a brain to do, or to use, anything, as we
supposed earlier (P1),
we would just need a part of the brain to do it. So, in order to
do
anything
we would only need B(1). In that case, B(1) would either (i) be
under our control or it would (ii) autonomously control the rest of the
brain.
If (i) were
the case, we'd be back where we were a
few paragraphs ago (which would imply the existence of a 'non-material
something' separate from the brain (a soul?) that controls B(1)).
On the other
hand if (ii) were the case that would just replace "brain" with "B(1)"
in P1-P5, yielding P6-P10:
P6:
Having a working B(1) is a necessary condition for being able to do
anything at all.
P7:
Hence, if we usedB(1), we would need another
B(1) in order to do so.
P8: We have only one B(1) each.
P9:
Therefore, we don't use B(1).
P10:
If we don't use B(1), we certainly don't use it to make B(2)
think.
[P1:Having a brain is a necessary condition
for being able to doanything at all.]
It could now
be objected that the above reasoning is biased and prejudicial.
While we might need B(1) to make, or enable, other parts to think, it
doesn't follow that we need it in order to do everything, or even
anything. Different modules take on different tasks. We might even argue
that thinking is a capacity, state or activity that is distributed across an
entire brain.
In that
case, let us suppose that module
M(1) does task T(1), module M(2) does task T(2), module
M(3) does task T(3),..., and module M(n) does task T(n)
-- the use of one or more of which enables us to think. We could even suppose
that these tasks overlap or ('dialectically') interlink in some way.
Given this
revised account, one or more of the above modules must be identical with B(1),
from earlier. But, that just replaces "B(1)", or even "brain", with one
or more of the following:
(i) A
conjunction of the elements/modules, M(1), M(2), M(3),...,
M(n);
(ii) A
disjunction of the elements/modules, M(1), M(2), M(3),...,
M(n); or,
(iii) A
sub-set of those elements/modules.
Hence,
B(1)
would now be the equivalent of, or function in the same way as, one or more of
the above.
Taking each in turn -- suppose (i) were the case:
[α]
If so, call the set comprising M(1), M(2), M(3),...,
M(n), "C".
Alternatively, suppose
(ii) were the case:
[β]
If so, call this set, "D".
Finally, suppose (iii) were the case:
[γ]
If so, call this option, "S".
[Where
"C" stands for "conjunction of elements/modules M(1), M(2),
M(3),..., M(n)", "D" for "disjunction of elements/modules
M(1), M(2), M(3),..., M(n)", and "S" stands for
"sub-set of elements/modules M(1), M(2), M(3),..., M(n)".]
Clearly, one
of
[α], [β]
or [γ] must be the right choice. That is, either C, D, or
S must be the correct option.
[δ]
Call that
disjunction itself, "M(Ω)".
So, M(Ω)
isa disjunction ofmembers ofthe set: {C, D, S}.
In that
case, we can replace the word "brain" in P1, or "B(1)" in P6,
with "M(Ω)", as follows:
P11: Having a working M(Ω) is a necessary condition for being able to
do anything at all. [That must be so since M(Ω) is in effect
every module
comprising the brain.]
P12:
Hence, if we used M(Ω), we would need another M(Ω)
in order to do so.
P13:
We have only one M(Ω) each.
P14:
Therefore, we don't use M(Ω).
P15:
If we don't use M(Ω), we certainly don't use it to think.
[P6:
Having a working B(1) is a necessary condition for being able to do
anything at all.]
[The same
result will emerge if we take each element of M(Ω) severally or
collectively, but that task has been left to the reader (but not her brain) to
complete.]
If we now
argue that we don't useM(Ω),
or any element comprising it, to control anything, then it must be
autonomous of our will.
But, if
that were so, the result is conceded:
we don't use our brains, after all. If M(Ω) is autonomous
of our will, we have no control over it, and hence do not use it.
That
disposes of the response that thinking is a capacity, state or activity which is
distributed across an entire brain (that we met earlier). If thinking is
distributed in this way across an entire brain, but isn't controlled by
anything, then thinking must be 'independent of the will'. In that
eventuality, it isn't easy to see how it could be attributed to the
individual concerned, how any thought would be that person's thought.
The problem
is that if the above were so, something elsemust control
what we do or what we think (since we plainly don't act or think randomly
or
capriciously). What that 'something else' might be is now entirely
mysterious, but it looks suspiciously like an autonomous Cartesian 'soul', or
a 'non-physical mind', once more.
It could be
objected that the argument presented above itself leads to a modified
form of Cartesianism, for if we don't use our brains, or we don't use M(Ω)
(or any sub-set of it), then it/they must indeed be independent of our
brains, and hence must be controlled by something immaterial.
But that
isn't so. Cartesianism implies there is something over and above the
brain that controls the brain. Full-blooded Cartesianism posits an immaterial
soul that does this, and which also thinks independently of the brain.
Modified, more contemporary versions of Cartesianism delegate this to the entire
brain, or to some module or modules of the brain, which do the thinking, etc.
But, this
is just Cartesianism Lite; it still locates thought in our heads. The argument
presented above (i.e., P1-P15) shows that no sense can be made
even of this modified version. The implication is that if we want to
continue arguing that thought takes place in our heads, that would automatically
commit us to full-blooded Cartesianism.
By way of
stark contrast, the approach adopted at this site rejects (in its entirety) any
such metaphysical use of language; it redirects our attention to how we
actually use words to speak about our psychological make-up and our
cognitive states and abilities (which doesn't even remotely suggest we
think with our brains or even that we do so 'in our heads'). I have referenced
dozens of books and articles (written from a Wittgensteinian perspective) that
argue in support of that approach,
here
and here, for example.
This means
that the approach adopted at this site is neither committed to the doctrine that
thought takes place 'in our heads' -- nor even its opposite, its 'negation'
-- just that no sense can be made of
eitheroption. The same applies to the claim that the brain acts
independently of our will, or that it is even controlled by our will. Every
single oneof those options is rejected, and for the same reason. P1-P15-type
reductios can be used to show that no sense can be made of each of these
metaphysical (or 'scientific') alternatives. Again, that is left to the reader
to complete for herself. [Or she can check out the literature mentioned in the
previous paragraph.]
Now, we
might be tempted to replace the above modules with a computer programme of some
description -- or something analogous to one --, claiming perhaps that we use
some sort of 'software' to do all our thinking, or, indeed, anything at all.
In that case, just replace "M(Ω)" above with "software of some
sort". Nothing changes. No sense can be made of the idea that we use our
brains, part of our brains, or even 'software', to do anything.
It could be
countered that computers actually use software to do various tasks. If
so, why can't
we use something analogous to software to do whatever we do, just like
computers? However, as the above shows, whatever it is that computers actually
do, we can make no sense of the supposition that we do likewise. Of
course, computers don't actually use anything, they just operate in the way they
were intended by their designers and programmers. In which case, a human
being is necessary for computers to do anything, and if that is so, we
are back where we were a dozen or so paragraphs ago.
Someone might wonder what would happen to the
above considerations if one day computers became autonomous, or even
'self-aware', and then maybe they were capable of designing and building other
computers of the same sort. In that case, no human being would be required for
these computers to do anything.
But that is just science fiction, and when we descend into realms of
fantasy like this, where we have no rules to guide us, no rules to
determine what we can legitimately assume or infer, and, indeed, what we may not
assume or infer,we can plainly assume or inferanything we like.
[If anyone wants to see what unmitigated, but extremely well-made, twaddle
results from science fiction on steroids, check out Interstellar.
What follows is small potatoes in comparison.] Hence, if someone were allowed to
assume computers might become autonomous or even 'self-aware', what is to stop
someone else from assuming that an 'evil genius' (analogous to the 'evil demon'
Descartes introduced into his argument to test the veracity of his own thoughts
-- or a 'future human' from 'the fifth dimension', courtesy of Interstellar)
has installed a (hidden) programme (or 'back door') in such computers that
mimics autonomy and self-awareness, when the computer concerned isn't
actually autonomous or self-aware, after all. And, in response to every attempt
to circumvent that counter-response, we assume this 'evil genius' (or that
'future human') is even more cunning than we thought and has designed a
programme to circumvent each and every such attempt. And if we now try to argue
that computer experts would surely be able to locate or detect any such hidden
programmes/'back doors' in the code, that would simply concede the point at
issue since it would amount to admitting that this 'evil genius' (or this
mysterious individual from the 'fifth dimension') had succeeded in mimicking
human autonomy, self-awareness and thought.
It would then be a short step to supposing that this 'evil genius' (or...,
readers can fill in the next part of this aside themselves) had fooled every
computer expert into thinking they had found this hidden code. [This what
happens when pure unmitigated fantasy is allowed to dominate theory!]
Suppose we
now attempt to argue that other computers might still become autonomous and
self-aware
where it could be shown by computer experts that no secret
programmes/'back doors' had been installed to mimic autonomy. But, once again,
what is to stop someone else arguing that those who have checked to see if there
are no secret programmes (etc.) were all mistaken, or that they had all been
bribed, conned, drugged or hypnotised to find no such secret programmes/'back
doors'? Or, indeed, that these experts are themselves androids programmed
by this 'evil genius' to come to that very conclusion. It would be no good
objecting that such a scenario is implausible since it is no less implausible to
suggest that computers might become 'self-aware'. If one implausibility is
permitted it is impossible to see how the number of allowable
implausibilities may be restricted to just this one.
Indeed, in
science fiction
we aresupposed tosuspend our usual notions of plausibility.
The bottom
line here is that when we introduce science fiction
and fantasy
into philosophy, all bets are off.
Of course,
there are colloquialisms -- such as "Use your brain!" -- that seem to suggest
otherwise, that we do
use our brains, but we should no more want to take that colloquialism
literally than we would want to take this one literally, either: "I have half a
mind to enter politics, so I will!".
However, let
us suppose some way can be found to circumvent or neutralise the above
conclusions; even then our difficulties would only just be beginning. In
that eventuality, it would be worth asking the following: If we do indeed use
our brains, or we run software that enables us to think "in our heads", or which
in the end does all our calculations/thinking for us, how do we know that any
of our thoughts and calculations are valid or correct? How might we check what
our brains supposedly conclude? How might we validate the results, or the
output, of this 'internal processor'? Especially if it controls everything we do
and think? If we can't
check these results, except we use our brains and/or this 'software' to check
itself -- which would be like someone checking their own height by placing
the palm of their hand on the top of their head -- how do we know that
anything our brain (or this 'software') has produced is correct,
even about itself and what it supposedly does or doesn't do, does or
doesn't conclude?
Again, it
could be countered that we must be able to arrive at correct conclusions, at the
truth, some, or maybe even most, of the time, otherwise our species wouldn't
have survived. But, if all we have available to us is the output of this
'internal processor', how do we know that anything is the case?
How do we know that we have even evolved? That we have brains to begin with?
That we are human beings? That anything else exists? No good appealing to
'evidence', since all such 'evidence' is processed by this 'Internal Big
Brother' [IBB], which has yet to be judged
trustworthy. And, of course, it will always exonerate itself.
It doesn't
take much navel-gazing to see that we are now facing exactly the same sort of
problems that haunted Descartes (indeed, this is just a variation of the
science fiction option we met earlier). He 'extricated' himself from this
bottomless pit of scepticism (concluding that he had neutralised the 'evil
demon' he imagined might be screwing with his thoughts) by appealing to a
beneficent 'God' -- whom he imagined wouldn't allow him to be so deceived -- in
order to validate his conclusions. Here he is:
"For since
God has endowed each of us with some light of reason by which to distinguish
truth from error,
I could not have believed that I ought for a single moment to rest satisfied
with the opinions of another, unless I had resolved to exercise my own judgment
in examining these whenever I should be duly qualified for the task...." [Descartes
(1997b),
Part 3,
p.88.
Bold emphasis added.]
Must we
do likewise?
But, even
that would be no help. The question would then be: who guarantees 'God's'
thoughts?
[That is
just the theological version of this unanswerable question: "Who guarantees the
results generated by our very own IBB?"]
Of course,
Descartes's 'solution' was no solution, since everything we think we know
about 'God' has been fed to us by our very own IBB, which has yet to be
judged reliable.
So,
theological fiction turns out to be no more help than science fiction was to
begin with!
That is why
it was asserted in Essay Three Part Four (not yet published) that every
Traditional, or even Contemporary, 'Theory of Mind' collapses into some
form of
Solipsism-- via Descartes and/or his method.
[On
whether
we think with our brains, see Geach
(1969b). See also Note 2. Added
on Edit: Details concerning the references cited above can be found in
the
Bibliography. However,
no one should conclude from the foregoing that I am a sceptic or that I accept
any of the sceptical conclusions I have just drawn. They are only being
aired in order to underline, and undermine, the sceptical implications of
the idea that we 'think with our brains' -- or, indeed, that 'thinking' takes
place 'in the head'. In other words, it was meant to highlight the sceptical
implications both of Cartesianism and neo-Cartesianism (i.e.,
Cartesianism Lite -- aka Contemporary Cognitive Science). I have said much
more about that in Essay Thirteen Part
One, and, as noted earlier, I will say even more in Essay Three Part Four.]
Despite
this, it is worth re-iterating the fact that the only
'evidence' to suggest that there are 'processes' at work in the brain/CNS
(etc.), which underlie 'consciousness' and 'the understanding' (etc.), are
the aforementioned nominalisations and reifications. In fact,
apart from tradition (i.e., the dominant
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm), the idea held by revolutionaries
that there must be 'processes' of this sort is itself motivated by the
misguided belief that materialism somehow
requires it.
It could be objected that evidence substantiating a dialectical approach to
'consciousness' does in fact exist; indeed it is now possible to correlate
certain mental processes with neurological states (using
brain
scans, etc.). [As it turns out, theses 'correlations' are themselves rather
suspect; on that, see Note 53.]53
However, 'correlations' can't prove that an identity exists between neurological
events and 'mental states', any more than a wet pavement proves rain is
identical with wet pavements, or a headache is identical with a blow to the head
-- or even reading Hegel!
It could be
countered that rain causes wet pavements. In like manner, certain states
and process in the CNS cause specific psychological or mental traits -- or, at
least, the latter emerge from the former. However, as pointed out in this Essay,
the belief that there are such "mental" states and processes is motivated
solely by the nominalisation and then the
reification of verbs associated with our psychological makeup/lives. That in
turn is the result of the fact that theorists still haven't broken with the
dominant Cartesian Paradigm.
What, for instance, does the phrase "mental
state" mean? As it is ordinarily used, "mental" often means that the
relevant subject is mad or deranged; the phrase itself is
connected with psychological well-being in general -- or, indeed, its opposite.
Hence we have "mental patients", "mental hospital" and "mental health". To be
sure, we all know that "mental state" doesn't mean a secret state or process 'in
the head', of suspicious provenance and even more dubious nature. How do we know
this? Well, as Norman Malcolm points out:
"The causal theory of mind defines the
concept of a mental state as the concept of a state that has a certain causal
role. The advocates of this theory employ the term 'mental state' in an
uninhibited way. Any belief, or desire, or pain, is called a 'mental state'.
This is not the way that this expression is used in everyday life. A twinge of
pain in the shoulder cannot be called a 'mental state' -- nor wanting a second
cup of coffee, nor the belief that one left one's gloves in the car. In everyday
language a long-term anxiety or depression is called a 'mental state': in regard
to a person whom you knew to have suffered from a persisting depression you
might ask 'What is his present mental state: is he still depressed?'
"Some of the causal theorists are aware that the expression 'mental state' is
unsuited for many of the phenomena they want the causal theory of mind to cover.
For example,
Armstrong says 'I attach no special
importance to the word "state". For instance, it is not meant to rule out
"process" or "event".' This concession is not much help, since a twinge in the
shoulder is no more called a 'mental process' or a 'mental event' than it is
called a 'mental state'." [Malcolm (1984), pp.75-76. Malcolm is referring to
Armstrong's book: A Materialist Theory of the Mind, p.82. Quotation marks
altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.]
Some readers
might be tempted to object that what we ordinarily say has no place here.
But, that isn't so, as Button, et al, explain (although their comments
were largely aimed at the analogy Cognitive Scientists draw between computers
and human psychological attributes, states, and processes, they nevertheless
apply in general here):
"As
to the widespread disparagement of attempts to
resolve philosophical problems by way of appeals to 'what we would ordinarily
say', we would proffer the following comment. It often appears that those who
engage in such disparaging nonetheless themselves often do what they
programmatically disparage, for it seems to us at least arguable that many of
the central philosophical questions are in fact, and despite protestations to
the contrary, being argued about in terms of appeals (albeit often inept) to
'what we would ordinarily say...'. That the main issues of contemporary
philosophy of mind are essentially about language (in the sense that they
arise from and struggle with confusions over the meanings of ordinary words) is
a position which, we insist, can still reasonably be proposed and defended. We
shall claim here that most, if not all, of the conundrums, controversies and
challenges of the philosophy of mind in the late twentieth century consist in a
collectively assertive, although bewildered, attitude toward such ordinary
linguistic terms as 'mind' itself, 'consciousness', 'thought', 'belief',
'intention' and so on, and that the problems which are posed are ones which
characteristically are of the form which ask what we should say if
confronted with certain facts, as described....
"We have absolutely nothing against the
coining of new, technical uses [of words], as we have said. Rather, the issue is
that many of those who insist upon speaking of machines' 'thinking' and
'understanding' do not intend in the least to be coining new, restrictively
technical, uses for these terms. It is not, for example, that they have decided
to call a new kind of machine an 'understanding machine', where the word
'understanding' now means something different from what we ordinarily mean by
that word. On the contrary, the philosophical cachet derives entirely from their
insisting that they are using the words 'thinking' and 'understanding' in the
same sense that we ordinarily use them. The aim is quite
characteristically to provoke, challenge and confront the rest of us. Their
objective is to contradict something that the rest of us believe. What the 'rest
of us' believe is simply this: thinking and understanding is something
distinctive to human beings..., and that these capacities set us apart from the
merely mechanical.... The argument that a machine can think or understand,
therefore, is of interest precisely because it features a use of the words
'think' and 'understand' which is intendedly the same as the ordinary use.
Otherwise, the sense of challenge and, consequently, of interest would
evaporate.... If engineers were to make 'understand' and 'think' into technical
terms, ones with special, technical meanings different and distinct from
those we ordinarily take them to have, then, of course, their claims to have
built machines which think or understand would have no bearing whatsoever upon
our inclination ordinarily to say that, in the ordinary sense, machines do not
think or understand." [Button, et al (1995), pp.12, 20-21. Italic
emphases in the original. Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions adopted at this site.]
[On this also see Hallett (2008), particularly pp.91-99. There are dozens of
examples of the above sort of equivocation and confusion, listed and analysed in
Bennett and Hacker (2022).]
Hence, if Cognitive Scientists want to explain things like "belief", "emotion"
and "thought", they will either have to use these words as they are
ordinarily employed, or they will fail to explain what they imagine they
are referring to, having replaced them with a handful of technical, but
typographically identical, alternatives. Of course, in that case belief,
emotion and thought, as we ordinarily understand them, will thereby remain
unexplained. That being so, the idea that computers can be used to explain
or help understand human psychological attributes, states and processes is
entirely misguided. [On this, see Robinson (2003b).]
Returning
to an earlier point: neurological correlations can't show that 'mental events'
are brain processes, or even that they are caused by brain processes;
that is because the term "mental event" is, at best, hopelessly obscure, at
worst, a complete misnomer. More specifically: as we have seen, the terms
employed by theorists (e.g., "thought", "consciousness", etc.) are either (a)
the same as those we ordinarily use or (b) they aren't related to the ordinary
employment of typographically similar words. If (a) were the case, then
theorists will be misusing such terms, and what they have to say by means of
them would be both misguided and confused. Alternatively, if (b) were the
case, then any alleged correlations can't illuminate thought or
consciousness, but 'thought' and 'consciousness', words that have a
technical, and as-yet-unexplained, meaning, and we would be none the wiser.
Indeed, as Malcolm points out,
correlations can't possibly capture what we mean when we use ordinary
psychological predicates (etc.); in which case these correlations are
philosophically uninteresting -- howsoever scientifically illuminating, or
otherwise, they might be. [In connection with this, however, see the suggestions
made in
Note 37.]
Naturally, the above comments aren't correct simply because of the present
author's diktat; Note 53 and the
references given in Note 86, are aimed at substantiating
these seemingly perverse (if not apparently anti-scientific) assertions.
[On this, see also Hanson (1971b).]
A comparison
might help here. Let us suppose that there turned out to be a
verified correlation between the exchange values
of certain commodities and specific 'brain', or 'mental states', of those who
had, say, either manufactured or purchased those commodities -- assuming for the
moment that such phrases had a clear meaning and weren't dependent on the
aforementioned Cartesian Paradigm. The question is: Would we abandon the
labour theory of value as a result of this hypothetical discovery? The answer, I
trust, is pretty clear; if a link like this were demonstrable, we should rather
say that the value of the commodities in question (or some other 'objective'
feature of the world) was responsible for producing the said 'brain'/'mental
states', not the other way around (or something along those lines), and advise
further research. We wouldn't want to abandon our commitment to the truth of
propositions ascribing value to commodities if neurological concomitants were
one day unearthed by scientists -- no matter how well confirmed they might
prove to be.
Of course,
the obvious objection to the above would be to counter-claim that no such
correlations between commodity values and brain/mental states exist, nor are
they ever likely to. But, that riposte would miss the point; what goes on 'in
the head' can't provide the basis for an ascription of social concepts to
anything that a Marxist should rightly regard as significant -- in this
instance, 'objective' economic factors, but in the case under consideration, the
products of social relations among human beings expressed by our ordinary use of
language in connection with familiar psychological attributes (etc.). [And this
is a view shared by Voloshinov, no less --, that is,
as far as can be ascertained. On that, see
Note 11
and Note 23.]
Hence, the
position defended here isn't that psychological and neurological research into
the brain is misguided, but that reference to what goes on in the CNS (etc.) can
provide no insight into linguistic meaning -- even if one were needed.
Just as the value of a commodity is a consequence of complex social structures,
processes and inter-relationships (and isn't dependent on what transpires inside
the heads of individuals collectively or severally -- the latter is
indeed part of the folly behind
Rational Choice Marxism), our use of language is also the product of
collective action and interaction (and is similarly irreducible to individual
'mental acts' -- even if there were such a thing).
[This topic
overlaps with a recent controversy in Analytic Philosophy between
"Internalism" and "Externalism". Since this doesn't impact on ideas of
central concern to Marxists, no more will be said about it here. However, since
"Externalism" is relevant to some of the ideas developed in Essay Twelve
Part One, a section on this topic
will be added there at later date.]
On these
alleged correlations, and the so-called "modularity of mind", see
Uttal
(2001). Here is Professor Uttal's summary of some of the main points of his
recent book (however, readers mustn't assume that I agree with everything he
says -- he, too, is clearly in the grip of the aforementioned Cartesian Paradigm,
evidenced by his talk about the relation between 'mind' and 'brain', and his
reference to "mental processes", for instance --; these comments are only being
quoted here for his view of these alleged correlations):
"On the Limits of Localization of
Cognitive Processes in the Brain.
"Psychology has always been in search of metaphors and explanatory theories.
Earlier we had to do with hydraulic, mechanical, electrical, and eventually
computer models to serve as
heuristics
to help guide our thinking about the nature of cognition. In this century a new
science --
neurophysiology
-- and a remarkable collection of new
physiological
recording tools have become available as an alternative to these older
metaphors. We have gone through a series of physiological measures including,
the
galvanic skin response, the
electroencephalograph, and the
evoked
brain potential, each of which promised
to provide a material key to understanding mental activity. All of these methods
were especially exciting for psychologists because they promised to provide a
non-invasive means of correlating brain activity with mental actions. In the
main, however, none of these methods has been successful in answering even the
most basic questions of how the brain produces or encodes mental activity. The
main reason for this failure has been the fact that these measures are asking
questions as [at? -- RL] the wrong level. The ultimate basis of mental activity
must be the informational state of a huge collection of
neurons
interacting, not en masse, but as an intricate web, a network in which
the details of the intercommunicated information are salient. Measures of
integrated activity such as the
EEG
or the
EVBP
simply do not assay the essence of the relationship between mind and brain.
"The latest 'new' methodology
"Now there is another entry in the search for a metaphorical model. The
availability of the
PET
and
fMRI
scanning procedures in the last decade has once again excited psychologists.
Indeed, it has more than just excited them. Entire sections of experimental
psychology in some of our most prestigious university departments have abandoned
purely cognitive studies in favour of correlative studies of these images and
behavioural tests. Furthermore, some departments have frighteningly over
committed their resources to this single line of research. I believe this to be
a programmatic error that is based upon an inadequate consideration of the basic
assumptions and logic of the research that is emerging willy-nilly from this
breathless attack on one of the most fundamental questions of
psychobiology
-- the issue of whether or not mental processes can be localized in particular
regions of the brain. It seems to me that there should be a cooling off period
before we charge ahead into a research paradigm that has many unanswered
questions and faces many conceptual, technical, and logical problems.
"In the following paragraphs, my goal is to raise some cautions and to stimulate
a bit of reflection about what is currently going on in many
neuroscience
laboratories. Some of the cautions are age-old ones, but some are associated
with the most modern technical matters.
"Six suggestions
"First, perhaps the most difficult challenge that has to be faced by those who
are comparing brain images and cognitive processes is the uncertainty involved
in precisely defining the components of mental activity. Throughout the history
of psychology, we have tried to define mental activity in an enormous number of
different ways. Other than the antique and persisting trichotomy of
'input-central-output', efforts to develop sharp definitions of mental modules
have been notoriously unsuccessful. Every century defines their own mental
components and few of these definitions are perpetuated into the next. A few
very general terms persist -- memory, emotions, percepts, etc. -- but even these
are fraught with lexicographic difficulties. Arguably, the mental modules that
psychology currently uses are either a priori or ad hoc
hypothetical constructs or are operationally defined by the experiments we use
to study mental activity. At least one survey (Grafman, Partiot, and Hollnagel,
1995) goes on for seven pages listing the variety of cognitive processes that
have been associated with the
frontal cortex
in particular! Clearly, an adequate classification of mental processes is not
yet at hand.
"Second, the findings that have emerged
from the scanning-cognitive laboratories are not yet stable. Pulvermüller (1999)
has pointed out that the cognitive processing of word meanings has been
'located' in all of the major lobes of the brain! Few studies are replicated
under the same conditions, and often those that are do not support each other.
"Third, there is ample evidence,
especially that emerging from some of the newer event-related scanning
procedures that the cognitive processes are not localized but the result of
widely distributed action in the brain.
"Fourth, there is a host of technical uncertainties and a highly fragile logical
chain between neural activity and the scanned outputs from fMRI and PET systems
and even more concern about what these signals mean. Experts in the field are
well aware of these difficulties, but often we psychologists take at face value
some highly dubious steps in the logic. At the very least, it must be
appreciated that it is a mathematical truism that any bounded
field
will exhibit a maximum. This means that there will always be a peak of activity
someplace in, for example, a fMRI image. Correlations between behaviour and
cognitive activity are, therefore, guaranteed regardless of the actual biology
of the situation. The emphasis on 'hot spots' incorrectly directs attention away
from critical changes of activity in other regions -- both increases and
decreases.
"Fifth, The statistical and experimental
design aspects of the scanning procedures are also matters of deep concern.
Small shifts in criterion levels can force drastically different interpretations
of data. Normalization and averaging procedures may produce spurious conclusions
concerning localization. The frailty of the subtraction and double dissociation
methods, and the elaborate processing necessary to see anything at all raise
serious concerns about whether this new approach will fail in the same way that
the older methods did to answer the most basic questions faced by cognitive
neuroscience.
"Finally, despite its implicit
acceptance by many researchers in this field, the localization versus
distribution issue remains unresolved. There is a theoretical bias toward
'localization' abroad in cognitive neuroscience these days that may be totally
unjustified. The entire scanning-cognition effort is based upon the assumption
that mental processes or modules are actually localized in particular regions of
the brain. However, there is abundant evidence that this may be a misreading of
the data. The brain is a highly interconnected, redundant, and nonlinear system
that is more likely to use a distributed representation scheme than a highly
localized one. Localization is an easy way out for experimental design, but it
may be fundamentally incorrect in principle. Not in the sense of any obsolescent
idea of 'mass action' but, rather, in terms of a complex network of interacting
parts. There is, in this regard, a great confusion in this field over such a
simple matter as the necessity versus the sufficiency of a brain region's role
in a cognitive process. Experiments may quite properly show that one region of
the brain is necessary to carry out some mental task, but that does not rule out
the possibility that many other regions are also required for the process to
occur. The 'necessary' region may not be 'sufficient' to encode the cognitive
act. The emphasis on associating one or a few regions with some cognitive task
may thus produce an illusion of localization where none, in fact, exists.
"Conclusion: The Challenge
"I hope that my readers will not do the
field of cognitive neuroscience the disservice of dismissing this essay as just
a 'pessimistic' view. Given the state of the science, it may be more realistic
than pessimistic. At the very least, it seems to me that we should be
considering these issues rather than plunging ahead into what may be an enormous
waste of resources and time. Whether...my point of view is correct or not, there
is an obligation to at least consider the questions that are raised here.
"In this brief opinion piece, it is not
possible for me to provide the scientific citations to support the assertions
that I make. A much more complete rendition of the argument against an
assumption of brain localization, and, thus, the importance of a considered
evaluation of what psychologists are doing in scanning laboratories is presented
in my forthcoming book -- The New
Phrenology: The Limits of Localizing Cognitive Processes in the Brain
(MIT Press. 2001).
"References:
"Grafman, J., Partiot, A., & Hollnagel,
C. (1995). 'Fables in the prefrontal cortex'. In Behavioral and Brain
Sciences18, 349-358.
"Pulvermüller, F. (1999). 'Words in the brain's language'. In Behavioral and
Brain Sciences22, 253-336.
"William R. Uttal
"Professor Emeritus (Psychology) University of Michigan
"Professor Emeritus (Engineering) Arizona State University" [Partially quoted
from
here
(the old link to the full passage is now dead). Quotation marks altered to
conform with the conventions adopted at this site; spelling modified to agree
with UK English.]
[Professor Uttal has updated and
augmented his criticisms in Uttal (2008, 2011). There is a Podcast of some of
his ideas available
here (it would be wise to open this in a new window or tab, and there is a
slight delay before the Podcast begins), as well as a PDF transcript of an
interview with Professor Uttal,
here.]
Again, it is worth pointing out yet
again that like so many working in this area, Professor Uttal is still labouring
under illusions generated by the Cartesian Paradigm. Uttal (2004) tries
to break free from its spell, but it is nevertheless clear that he has failed in
that endeavour. That can be seen, for example, from the following comment found
in the above PDF:
"Our best guess now -- without a lot of
supportive evidence -- is that the brain is best studied at the level of the
neuronal nets (the network of cells that make up the brain tissue); that that is
where the mind resides, in terms of the information processes at this very fine
microscopic network."
There are numerous other comments like
this scattered throughout the interview mentioned above, the Professor's books,
and the summary quoted earlier.
To be sure,
some might want to argue that if mental events had no material/dialectical base,
that would leave it open for others to postulate a
non-material platform for human 'consciousness', which would clearly possess
unwelcome Idealist implications.
Of course,
Idealists are going to argue for an immaterial mind whatever we say. But,
in order to avoid the implication that their theory leaves room for
immaterialism, materialists have simply
assumed they have no choice but to postulatejust sucha
'material foundation' for thought in hypothetical processes in the CNS (but
which aren't reducible to them), etc. However, what this material base could
possibly be is seldom spelled-out in any detail. And no wonder! Given Lenin's
'definition' of matter, it isn't at all clear whether any such account could be
given.54
Be this as
it may,
HMdoesn't in
fact require such a (metaphysical) theory of 'consciousness'.55
That, of course, hasn't stopped dialecticians from wanting to impose
their version of this Ancient Paradigm on hypothetical processes and structures
in the brain, 'the mind', or the CNS -- and despite the constant refrain that
this is something they
never do. Nevertheless,
this imposition involves them reading into the phenomena the view that
'consciousness' is an "emergent property" of the CNS -- dialectically linked to
increased neural complexity, social development and practice -- in order to
support the idea that there is (or could be) a 'scientific', or a 'dialectical',
theory of 'mental phenomena' not reducible to the "crude" operation of mere
"matter and motion".55a
There is no
little irony here: in order to avoid
Idealism, DM-theorists have spirited ("divined") into existence several
highly obscure 'concepts' (which, by shear coincidence, I am sure, turn out
to have been borrowed from Traditional Metaphysics and
Neo-Platonic
Mysticism -- thus imbuing their ideas
-- even here -- with an impeccable ruling-class pedigree). But, these
'concepts' readily collapse into LIE since they, too, are dependent on the
derivation of a set of psychological truths from the (altered and
distorted) meaning
of certain words. In trying to avoid Idealism, DM-theorists have simply
slipped right back into it!
[This
slippage was explained in detail in Essay Twelve
Part One, as well as
here.]
Unfortunately, few branches of science are as suffused with conceptual confusion
as Psychology (and that comment doesn't just apply to DM-theories of
'cognition'). It is highly doubtful, therefore, whether Voloshinov's attempts to
clarify matters will greatly alter this sorry state of affairs (despite the
plaudits of his epigones).56
It could be
objected here that while Voloshinov himself provides no evidence in support of
his claims, there is
evidence that substantiates what he says, and John Parrington's article, for
instance, summarised some of it for us.
However,
when we examine the assembled 'evidence' we find it is indirect and
allusive,
at best. In fact, Parrington's 'evidence' is perhaps more accurately to
be described as mere
supposition. As he himself admits (but note once again the neo-Cartesian
language!):
"The problem with studying inner speech
is that it is impossible to observedirectly using objective
scientific methods, hidden as it is within the mind of the individual.
However, much valuable information about [inner speech's -- RL] character has
emerged by using some ingenious indirect methods….
"…An excellent attempt at describing what inner speech would sound like if we
could actually hear it is
James Joyce'sUlysses….
"…A study of literature may seem a strange way to investigate the workings of
the mind, but
Bakhtin
believed that novels 'permit readers to see things that are obscured by
the restraints on expression in other applications of language.'…
"…[M]atters become necessarily more speculative once we start to consider
some of the possible concrete mechanisms whereby social change is translated
into change in consciousness itself. Part of the problem will always be our
inability toaccess inner speech directly. However, it should be clear from
Voloshinov's work, as well as that of Bakhtin and
Vygotsky,
that a wide range of sources can be used successfully as an indirect source
of information about our thought processes…." [Parrington
(1997), pp.134-35, 141, 143. Bold
emphases added. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted
at this site.]
But, if we
can't access "inner speech" directly, how do we know it even exists? Worse
still: Do we have any idea what the phrase "inner speech" could possibly mean?
Are we to imagine that cells or neurons in our heads hold conversations with
each other? Must we suppose that certain "modules" in the brain chat amongst
themselves over the synaptic fence? Does the brain give lectures to the spinal
chord?
Is
Parrington perhaps referring to sub-vocal movements of the larynx? That is,
'outer speech' with the volume turned way down?56a0
In fact,
Parrington finds he has to refer to James Joyce's Ulysses to provide his
readers with a vague sort of idea what "inner speech" might be. But, if
we all know (from
introspection?) what "inner speech"
is,
we should hardly have to be told. Anyway, Parrington's own phrasing
indicates that few of us (if any) know what this mysterious 'inner
process' actually is. This can be seen from his use of the prefixing clause: "if
we could actually hear" "inner speech". He wouldn't have needed to add that
rider if we all knew what to listen out for, or what he was talking about.
In addition,
it is also worth asking how Parrington
knows that certain novels reveal "inner speech" to us. All he says in
support of this odd idea is this:
"An excellent attempt at describing what inner speech would sound like if we
could actually hear it is James Joyce's Ulysses…." [Ibid.,
p.135. Bold emphasis added.]
But, if he
has never heard "inner speech", and no one else has, how could he
possibly know that certain novels are capable of reveal anything to us in this
respect? Apparently, Parrington's onlyevidence that the above
novel (along with its many cryptic allusions to everything under the Sun?)
can serve as an accurate (scientific!?) source is based on abelief
expressed by Bakhtin(a non-scientist!) about novels in general!
Exactly how Bakhtin himself knew that certain novels record "inner speech" is no
less mysterious. No doubt, as
Lenin said of Hegel,
Bakhtin must have "divined" it.
[Several detailed comments about
Vygotsky's work will be added at the end of this Essay at a later date. Until
then the reader is directed to Chapter Ten of Williams (1999) -- 'Vygotsky's
Social Theory of Mind'.]
Perhaps
then, Parrington is alluding to soliloquy,
or to other vocal/sub-vocal ramblings? If he is, then we already understand what
these are, and we have direct access to them (unlike "inner
speech"). Moreover, and better, we don't need to be referred to passages lifted
from obscure "stream of consciousness" novels to tell us any more about these
phenomena, nor need we appeal to indirect evidence to identify them (again,
unlike "inner speech").
If so,
Parrington
can't be referring to soliloquy (etc.). Perhaps he is alluding to the
thinking we all supposedly engage in while awake, or while reading (say)? If
so, why call this "inner speech"?
Maybe, then,
Parrington referring to the low mumblings that certain individuals produce as
they read? But, not everyone mumbles sub-vocally to themselves when reading. In
fact, speed readers don't mumble at all. Even so, and once again, we already
know what this is, and we have direct
access to it (unlike "inner speech").
Nevertheless, this 'inner dialogue', about which we are all supposedly aware --
or half aware --, which allegedly accompanies our waking moments, is perhaps
Parrington's best candidate so far. But, we can all hear (in the sense of
"attend to") this commentary, so it can't be "inner speech", either, or
Parrington wouldn't have had to labour this point quite so much. We would
all know what he was talking about if this were the correct candidate.
More
pressing, however, is this question: How does this approach to 'inner speech'
manage to avoid undermining belief in the social nature of language?
Gilbert
Ryle's comments are oddly apposite here (since they were based on a firm and
unequivocal commitment to the social nature of language):
"This trick of talking to oneself in
silence is acquired neither quickly nor without effort; and it is a necessary
condition of our acquiring it that we should have previously learned to talk
intelligently aloud and have heard and understood other people doing so. Keeping
our thoughts to ourselves is a sophisticated accomplishment. It was not until
the Middle Ages that people learned to read without reading aloud. Similarly a
boy has to learn to read aloud before he learns to read under his breath, and
prattle aloud before he prattles to himself. Yet many theorists have
supposed that the silence in which most of us have learned to think is a
defining property of thought. Plato said that in thinking the soul is talking to
itself. But silence, though often convenient, is inessential, as is the
restriction of the audience to one recipient.
"The combination of the two assumptions that theorizing is the primary activity
of minds and that theorizing is intrinsically a private, silent, or internal
operation remains one of the main supports of the
dogma of the ghost in the machine. People
tend to identify their minds with the 'place' where they conduct their secret
thoughts. They even come to suppose that there is a special mystery about how we
publish our thoughts instead of realizing that we employ a special artifice to
keep them to ourselves." [Ryle
(1949a), p.28. (This links to a PDF.) Bold emphasis and link added.]
Although
Voloshinov gives lip service to the social nature of language, his
commitment to 'inner speech' only succeeds in undermining that commitment (as
readers will see for themselves if they follow the above link). It seems that
Parrington's approach does likewise.
Be this as
it may, Parrington then proceeds to tell us that one of the major features of
"inner speech" is:
"...its predicative (subject-less) character. A child talking to itself 'already
knows' what he or she is talking about and therefore there is no need for naming
the subject…. Inner speech must be even more telegraphic and abbreviated, and
probably uses words that are highly personally coded -- that is they have a
private meaning for the person who is using them, which may be different from
their accepted social meaning." [Parrington
(1997), p.135.]
Here, he is drawing on a
limited contrast between "inner speech", soliloquy and the ramblings of
children. While all of these are "predicative" to some extent, "inner speech" is
perhaps even more so -- or, so he tells us. But, the subjectless nature of such
'language' here isn't unique to any of the latter. Conversations between two or
more people often take much for granted, including the subject of discussion.
Many are "predicative", and many are coded (think of
Cockney Rhyming Slang, 'rap', etc.). So, it seems that "inner speech" is
much like "outer speech" in this regard, too.56a
All this is quite apart from the fact that
Parrington can't possibly know that 'inner speech' is how he says it is, since
we have already been told that:
"The problem with studying inner speech
is that it is impossible to observedirectly using objective
scientific methods, hidden as it is within the mind of the individual.
However, much valuable information about [inner speech's -- RL] character has
emerged by using some ingenious indirect methods….
"An excellent attempt at describing what inner speech would sound like if we
could actually hear it is James Joyce's Ulysses…." [Ibid.,
pp.134-5. Bold emphases added.]
If 'inner speech' can't be observed directly (but
can it even be observed indirectly?), and if we can't actually hear it, how
does Parrington know it is "predicative"? I rather suspect Parrington has
confused his own (or someone else's) guess with evidence, here.
This, of course, only
deepens the mystery; if "inner" and "outer" speech are no different, at least in
this respect, why all the fuss? And how is it possible for the allegedly
"private meanings" of certain words to engage with, or be captured by, "inner
speech" and thus be of any use? If certain meanings and certain words are
private, even though no one can hear the 'speech' that is supposed to
encapsulate them (otherwise Parrington would have appealed to that phenomenon as
a fact, and thus wouldn't have bothered with all that 'indirect'
evidence), what linguistic function could they possibly serve? How could
'private meanings' even be recorded (imprinted) if no one has access
to them, and no one can hear them?56b
Anyway, it
is reasonably clear from other things that Parrington says that he is alluding
to something much deeper than mere soliloquy, as he himself notes:
"…[I]nner speech is the link between thought and language…. [T]here is a gap
between thought and words…inner speech is the fluid interphase where meaning can
start to be formed and shaped…." [Ibid.,
p.135.]
If "inner
speech" stands between "thought" and language, then it can't be identified with
any meaningful use of language, let alone any that is exhibited in soliloquy.
However,
Parrington is rather coy about what this 'something' actually is. Even so, he
does refer his readers to studies that Vygotsky completed several generations
ago (pp.133ff.), but he failed to direct them to more recent research carried
out into this obscure phenomenon (it if is
one!) -- for example, that supposedly relating to children.57
Even if Parrington had done this,
we would still be no further forward, for we still have absolutely no idea what
"inner speech" is; until that daunting problem -- in fact it is a
pseudo-problem, as we
have seen,
and will see -- is resolved we are in no position to decide what would even
count
as evidence for or against 'its' existence. If we haven't a clue what we are
looking for, any evidence gathered could, for all anyone knows, relate to
something else, or, indeed, to nothing at all. As noted in Essay Six: you
can look for your keys if you don't know where they are but not if you don't
know what
they are.
Moreover, it
is unclear how Vygotsky himself was able to study something that Parrington
elsewhere declares no one can directly experience. If Vygotsky had in fact
succeeded in listening to the "inner speech" of children as they spoke to him,
as they conversed with others. or as they babbled to themselves, then this would
make "inner speech" look pretty
direct, and hence unproblematic, since it would be a clear example of these
children learning to soliloquise, or, indeed, to ramble aloud. Such
phenomena then,
if that is what Vygotsky observed (or was referring to),
wouldn't count as "inner speech" -- at least, not as Parrington seems to
understand the term.58
All this is, of course, in addition to
the serious philosophical difficulties (outlined
earlier) associated with "inner speech".
Putting
these annoying quibbles to one side for now, Parrington clearly wants to read
more into "inner speech" than even the dearth of 'evidence' he presents permits,
for, as we saw above, a few pages later we are informed that:
"…[I]nner speech is the link between thought and language…. [T]here is a gap
between thought and words…inner speech is the fluid interphase where meaning can
start to be formed and shaped…." [Ibid.,
p.135.]
How
Parrington knows that "inner speech" is such a link he once again failed to say.
[It is to be hoped he isn't trying to impose yet another thesis
on the brain/'mind'!]
The question
now is: Is "inner speech" even a
linguistic phenomenon? If it is, how could it be an interface between
language and 'thought'? If 'thought' and language absolutely require just such
an intermediary, and "inner speech" is indeed a linguistic
phenomenon, then there would have to be an analogous link between
'thought' and "inner speech", too. On the other hand, if "inner speech" doesn't
itself need such an interface with 'thought', why then is one needed between
ordinary 'outer' language and 'thought'?
Alternatively, if "inner speech"
isn't a linguistic phenomenon, why call it "speech" and credit it with other
linguistic features, such as meaning and predicativity, in the first place?
More
problematic, however, is the fact that the occurrence of episodic bouts of
"inner speech" -- if they aren't examples of soliloquy, etc. -- would
normally be regarded as clear evidence of a
psychotic personality disorder
in the one so afflicted. Given what little we are told, such inner voices
would be a sure sign, not of a fluid interface between 'thought' and language,
but of a deranged or split personality. Small wonder then that Ulysses
seemed to some to be so apposite. What next? The 'memoirs' of
Charles
Manson
or Peter
Sutcliffe?
Nevertheless, if we reconsider the following words, they might help us
understand what Parrington really meant:
"…[I]nner speech is the fluid interphase where meaning can start to be formed
and shaped, based on the emotional, practical and social experience of the
individual…." [Ibid.,
pp.135-36.]
But, what
sense of "meaning" is this? Is Parrington speaking about linguistic
meaning? If so, it would be of little use in helping us understand Voloshinov,
for according to him:
"Meaning does not reside in the word
or in the soul of the speaker or in the soul of the listener. Meaning is the
effect of interaction between speaker and listener produced via the material of
a particular sound complex." [Voloshinov (1973), pp.102-03. Bold emphases
added.]
Plainly, such an "interaction" can't reside in the head of either interactor.
Hence, if Parrington is trying to make Voloshinov's ideas clear, contradicting
him is hardly a good place to begin!
[However, as
we have seen (here
and here), the source of this difficulty
lies in the fact that Voloshinov can't make his own mind up whether meaning is a
social phenomenon, or whether it is a private, 'internal' affair. Parrington
has obviously inherited this confusion.]
Of course,
part of the problem here is the fact that the word "meaning"
itself has many different meanings; here are just a few:
(1) Personal
Significance: as in "His Teddy Bear means a lot to him."
(2) Evaluative
Import: as in "May Day means different things to different classes."
(3) Point
or Purpose: as in "Life has no meaning."
(4) Linguistic
Meaning, or Synonymy: as in "'Vixen' means 'female fox'", "'Chien' means
'dog'", "Comment vous appelez-vous?" means "What's your name?", or "Recidivist"
means someone who has resumed their criminal career.
(5) Aim
or Intention: as in "They mean to win this strike."
(6) Implication:
as in "Winning this dispute means that management won't try another wage cut
again in a hurry."
(7) Indicate,
Point to, or Presage: as in "Those clouds mean rain", "Those spots mean
you have measles", or "That expression means she's angry".
(8) Reference:
as in "I mean him over there", or "'The current president of the USA' means
somebody different at most once every eight years."
(9) Artistic
or Literary Import: as in "The meaning of this novel is to highlight the
steep decline in political integrity."
(10) Conversational
Focus: as in "I mean, why do we have to accept a measly 1% offer in the
first place?"
(11) Expression
of Sincerity or Determination: as in "I mean it, I do want to go
on the march!", or "The demonstrators really mean to stop this war."
(12) Content
of a Message, or the Import of a Sign: as in "It means the strike starts
on Monday", or "It means you have to queue here."
(13) Interpretation:
as in "You will need to read the author's novels if you want to give new meaning
to her latest play", or "That gesture means those pickets think you are a scab."
(14) Import
or Significance: as in "Part of the meaning of this play is to change
our view of drama", or "The real meaning of this agreement is that the bosses
have at last learnt their lesson."
(15)
Speaker's Meaning: as in "When you trod on her foot and she said 'Well
done!' she in fact meant the exact opposite".
(16)
Communicative Meaning: as in "You get my meaning", or "My last letter
should tell you what I meant", or "We have just broken the code, hence the last
message meant this...."
(17)
Explanation: as in "When the comrade said the strike isn't over what she
meant was that we can still win!", or "What is the meaning of this?
Explain yourself!"
(18)
Translation, or a Request for Translation -- as in "What does 'Il pleut'
mean in German?"59
This isn't to suggest that these are the
only meanings of "meaning", or that several of the examples listed don't
overlap. [For example, items (4) and (17) intersect, as do (5) and (11), and (9)
and (14), as well as (4) and (18). For more on this and the distinction between
"natural" and "non-natural" meanings see
Grice (1957) -- this links to a PDF -- and Stainton (1996), pp.103-10,
although I don't necessarily agree with everything Grice had to say.]
From what
little Parrington says, it looks as if he might have meant (i.e., "intended")
senses (1), (2), and, of course, (15).
Nevertheless, it seems reasonably clear that many of the problems confronting
Parrington, Holborow and Voloshinov's accounts of language arise from their
failure to notice that this apparently simple word (i.e., "meaning", and its
cognates) is in fact highly complex. Because they have conflated several
different connotations of this word, their ideas naturally create confusion
instead of dispelling it --indeed, as we have seen.
However, and
once more: In this they are in good company: most Traditional Philosophers have
done (and still do) the very same thing.60
Earlier we
had occasion to quote the following passage from Parrington's article:
"…[I]nner speech is the link between thought and language…. [T]here is a gap
between thought and words…inner speech is the fluid interphase where meaning can
start to be formed and shaped…." [Parrington
(1997), p.135.]
The first
thing that strikes one about the above comment is that Parrington appears to
think that thought and language are distinct, so that the former can exist
without the latter. This might be to misinterpret him, but he does invite
misunderstanding when he says such things. [On this, see
here.]
Now,
although Parrington asserts that there is here a "gap", he neglected to
show that there is indeed one. Worse still, he failed to explain
what a supposition like this could possibly mean. For example, might such a
"gap" be measured in centimetres, seconds, or missing teeth? If not, what sort
of "gap" is this? Is it a literal "gap" (like the space that exists between the
platform and the trains in certain
underground
stations), or is it metaphorical (like a gap in someone's memory)?
Well,
perhaps he is alluding to an explanatory
"gap"? But, if so, there is no such thing. If, per impossible, there
were, it would 'close' even
before it 'opened'. That is because the supposition that there is such a
"gap" would have to be expressed in the same medium either side of the supposed
divide -- in thought and in language --, thereby 'closing' the alleged
"gap". Plainly, the thought that there might be such a "gap" and its
linguistic expression are one and the same.61
To some,
these claims might seem somewhat dogmatic, if not perverse and wrong-headed.
Hence, it could be argued that if there is an objective gap between
thought and language, the above constraints on its explanation, even if
correct, are surely irrelevant. The gap either exists or it doesn't -- or so
the argument might go.
However, any
who doubt the claims made in the last but one paragraph are invited to say to
themselves: "There is a gap between thought and language" and then repeat the
same 'thought' without using any words at all! Upon doing that (or, in fact,
uponfailingto do it!), they will soon see there is no such
"gap".61a
Indeed, it is worth reminding ourselves
that the deflationary argument presented above was originally aimed at
countering the idea that there is an explanatory
gap in our knowledge, and it sought to establish (indirectly) that our mastery
of language shows that no such "gap" exists -- in the sense that the supposition
itself made no sense, not that it was empirically false. This is largely
because the formulation of the thought that there is such a "gap" and its
linguistic expression are one and the same, as we have seen.62
All of this
is quite apart from the fact that the supposition that there is a "gap" is
itself based on the idea that the words used to describe 'either side' of it are
the names of 'internal objects and processes'. In turn, the existence of
these'internal objects and processes' is based solely on this
nominalisation! Because of that, 'language' and 'thought' have now been
separated, thus producing a spurious "gap" by the simple expedient of inventing
artificial names like these, and nothing more! Hence, the "gap" Parrington
refers to is a consequence of this linguistic false step.
Or, so
things at least seemed to the Traditional Theorists who invented this way of
depicting the 'mind' (even if they might not have put it this way!). Plainly,
to them, this meant that these spurious entities ('thought' and 'language')
needed to be 're-connected'.
[However,
this is just as empty a supposition as thinking that the word "God" and the word
"Satan" imply there is a gap between these two! What two?!]
From this
tightly knotted web of confusion out popped the 'philosophical problem' of the
'gap' between 'language' and 'thought' -- and, indeed,
between 'mind' and brain!
In that
case, all we have here is yet another spurious 'problem' that has arisen from a
crass
use/distortion of ordinary language
-- and nothing more.
Again, as
Marx noted:
"The philosophers have only to dissolve their language into the ordinary
language, from which it is abstracted, in order to recognise it, as the
distorted language of the actual world, and to realise that neither thoughts
nor language in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only
manifestations of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphasis
added.]
On the other
hand, if the words "language" and "thought", for example, don't actually name,
or refer to, any such objects and processes, then the assumption that there is a
"gap" between the things they supposedly denote is baseless.
[On this,
see Note 61. The idea that all words are
names was debunked in Essay Three
Part One.]
In which
case, not only is there no "gap", there are no (named) objects or processes
here to form one, in the first place!
As should now seem clear, here as elsewhere, this "gap" has only opened up
because of the
literal interpretation of an inapt metaphor
-- compounded by yet another distortion of language.62a0
Nevertheless, it could be objected that this doesn't even begin to deal
with the scientific problem of the relation between language and thought.
Hence, it could be pointed out that Parrington might have meant that there is a
gap in the current scientific explanation of the connection between
thought and language, one that Voloshinov's ideas helped close. That appears to
be why Parrington said the following:
"However, this still leaves us with the question of the concrete mechanisms
whereby this process takes place." [Parrington
(1997), p.136.]
From this it
seems that the supposed "gap" might be a
euphemism for our profound lack of knowledge of the physical, mental
or psychological mechanisms or causal links, or, indeed, "mediations", that
connect 'thought' and 'language'.
But, a few
lines earlier Parrington had already declared that:
"Language, therefore, is not just an expression of otherwise independent and
fully formed thought, but rather is a necessary form of the thought's
realisation." [Ibid.,
p.135.]
This appears
to mean that our only handle on thought is purely linguistic. This
further seems to suggest that Parrington himself half accepts the view that (i)
thought isn't in fact an aspect of the 'mind' that can be isolated
independently of its linguistic expression, and that (ii) there is thus no
"gap" between thought and language, after all.
[However,
things aren't quite this simple. On that, see
Note 61, again.]
Nevertheless, there are other things that Parrington says which suggest he
failed to appreciate the significance of the above admission. As we found with
"meaning", the word "thought" (and its cognates) is far more complex than most
theorists seem to acknowledge. Again, it is only when philosophers try to
theorise about this 'concept' (and thus restrict the meaning of the
word "thought" to what goes on in our heads) -- as opposed to when they use
language normally to express their thoughts and to understand the thoughts of
others -- that confusion arises.62a
If so, there is no object or 'mental
process' here called "thought";63any supposition to the contrary can only have been prompted by yet another
inept linguistic
reification. Moreover, what is true of "thought" is also true of
"language" (and for the same reason). In which case, there aren't two objects
or processes here (inside or outside the head) for there to be a "gap"
between, or for science to study.64
The fact
that Parrington has been misled -- as have so many others -- by a series of
spurious reifications like this is confirmed by the way he poses the problem: it
is only if thought and language are understood as literally two sorts of
objects or processes that a "gap" could emerge between them (even if this is
just an explanatory "gap"). Otherwise, his use of this word (i.e., "gap") is
surely metaphorical.
Be this as
it may, traditionally, several competing media have been proposed as bearers of
thought, or which are capable of bridging the alleged 'gap' between these two
nominalised 'entities' ('thought' and 'language'). For example, (a) Some hold
that one side of this 'divide' consists of material processes and events,
while the other side comprises the mental or psychological concomitants of
language/thought. (b) Another view sees mental processes linked to words
(or proto-words, or semantic structures) physically represented (somehow) in the
brain (perhaps as 'concepts', or "signs" (Voloshinov's
view)), or in some other
inchoate
form. There are of course many other possibilities, here. Indeed, while there
are parts of Parrington's article that suggest he might have favoured the second
of these options, others indicate that he might in fact have preferred the
first.
Whichever set of functional inter-connections Parrington accepts, both of those
mentioned above are motivated by the inappropriate metaphors already highlighted
--, i.e., those that represent the contents of our heads as 'objects' or
'processes' of some sort, which stand in specific (if changing) relationships
with one another. So, on one side of the "gap" we might have physical processes;
on the other, 'mental' or 'psychological events'. Alternatively, one side might
consist of 'mental events' ('thoughts'), while the other is comprised of
'internal representations' of linguistic expressions (in the 'mind', or in
'consciousness') etc., etc.65
Even so, wherever the boundary between these disparate entities is imagined to
lie, and whatever supposedly falls either side of it, Parrington seems to
believe that "inner speech" can be slotted neatly into the resulting "gap".
"…[I]nner speech is the link between thought and language…. [T]here is a gap
between thought and words…inner speech is the fluid interphase where meaning can
start to be formed and shaped…." [Ibid.,
p.135.]
But, the "gap" itself appeared out of
nowhere as a result of the reification of a metaphor (which pictures thoughts as
objects or processes), and nothing more.
Well, is
there anything to recommend this (traditional) view over and above the (inapt)
metaphors and
nominalisations from which it emerged? It seems not --. or if there is,
Parrington was remarkably quiet about it. In that case, if there is nothing to
recommend this picture other than the linguistic distortions and misapplications
outlined above, maybe we should re-direct our attention to the motives of those
materialists who think there is, or should be, something that fills this "gap".
Perhaps
these motives arise from a genuine desire to find a
materialist-sounding explanation for 'consciousness'?
This might involve,
inter alia, an attempt to go behind
the social conventions that already exist for expressing our thoughts or talking
about them in order to trace their material
roots in the CNS
(etc.). But, why would anyone want to go behind social convention in order to
account for human thought? It would seem that only the politically naive, or
those with overtly anti-socialist aims and intentions, would want to do that. In
which case, have those Marxists who have toyed with these ideas been duped once
again into accepting an alien-class agenda, and the adoption of a
ruling-class view,
not just of nature,
but now of the 'Mind'? It isn't easy to resist that conclusion in view of the
Idealist implications of this approach --
outlined earlier, and again
below.66
However, the
problem with attempts to go behind convention lies not so much with the
ideological compromise this introduces (on that, see Essay Twelve
Part One, and here),
but with the fact that those who venture down that path are forced to employ
words they already comprehend (as competent language-users) as if they
didn't! Or, they find they have to use words which now have to be
interpreted in odd ways in order to convince themselves that there is a
'problem' here, and hence that there is such a "gap", to begin with.
But, this
worry (and this alleged 'problem') has only arisen because of the misuse of
these very same ordinary words, again, as Marx hinted:
"The philosophers have only to dissolve their language into the ordinary
language, from which it is abstracted, in order to recognise it, as the
distorted language of the actual world, and to realise that neither thoughts
nor language in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only
manifestations of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphases
added.]
Indeed,
those so minded have to persuade themselves that there is a 'scientific problem'
about the reference of these transmogrified 'concepts', when the ordinary
terms used to set the 'problem' up weren't referential to begin with.
That is because these ordinary words don't in fact
represent anything, they merely facilitate description and communication
(based on criteria available and applicable in a public domain). In effect, as
has been pointed out in many of the Essays at this site (and as Marx indicated),
such theorists fall prey to the idea that scientific-sounding
philosophical 'problems' can be manufactured to order by the simple expedient
of
misusing ordinary language.
The upshot
is that this set of linguistic moves involves a distortion of the very medium it
had been intended to explain (i.e., language), turning the word "thought", for
instance, into a name, when it functions typically as a verb (or,
predicatively, as a descriptive, not a referential, term). We have
encountered this dodge several times before; this is just the latest unfortunate
(but almost universally misconstrued) example.67
Hence, in
order to motivate this 'scientific' enquiry, a 'problem' had first to be created
where none before existed. [And, it is worth recalling that it had originally
been motivated by assorted mystics and priests.] In
order to do this, it had to be shown (or, rather, it was merely hinted at
and insinuated -- it was never
demonstrated) that our ordinary words and phrases relating to our
psychological lives (e.g., verbs/compound verbs, like "to think", "to be aware",
"to understand", etc.) were limited, defective, contradictory or misleading --
or, at least, that they were superficial, non-'philosophical',
pre-scientific, or they reflected 'folk
psychology'. To that end, these perfectly ordinary expressions were torn
from their usual contexts and turned into the names of metaphysical objects,
containers or processes, so that these (now) 'private objects and processes'
could be re-located
inside our heads -- opening up the very "gap" that Traditional Theorists,
and others, then spent the next two thousand four hundred years trying
(unsuccessfully) to close, or bridge!
An
alternative strategy turned ordinary words into the names of the 'inner'
psychological attributes of that all-wise, all-knowing, constantly jabbering,
surrogate in-house theatre critic (i.e., "inner speech", mentioned
earlier, which serially
explains the stream of life to each of us in terms we instantly understand,
since we are apparently too dim to comprehend such things for ourselves,
unaided) -- a source we implicitly trust, that has our inner ear at all times,
and to whose own "speech" we must, and always do, attend if we are to grasp what
others say to us -- but whose own "speech" is readily comprehensible and has no
need for its own 'inner, inner' intercessor. [This is, of course, the
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian
'soul' in all but name.]
In all this,
it was just assumed that because we are all familiar with these ordinary
psychological words in their normal everyday contexts, a radical change
of use wouldn't affect their meaning. Either that, or it is simply taken for
granted that part of the meaning of these ordinary words -- i.e., whatever it is
that helps us use them in normal contexts -- could be transposed without
alteration into entirely novel contexts. Plainly, the intention here was to
investigate perfectly normal phenomena (like our ability to think) when no
literal sense can be made of the novel use of languagenecessary to usher in these 'problems' -- without, of course, conjuring
into existence that super-loquacious, 'inner'
invisible intercessor again.
In effect,
language was taken on a trip -- it went "on holiday", to paraphrase
Wittgenstein.68
Words were uprooted and flown off on a mystery tour, dressed in outlandish --
nay garish -- clothing so that they looked entirely alien and
'problematic'. While away on this merry jaunt they are encouraged to do
outlandish things; they became 'metaphysically drunk', as it were, which
motivated all manner of strange ideas and goings-on, and they (these words)
found themselves in totally alien surroundings. This
linguistic vacation
'allowed' theorists to derive immaterialist, if not
ghostly Idealist, conclusions
from them --
theories which (unsurprisingly) turned out to be highly conducive to a
ruling-class, and mystical, view of the human 'condition' or 'soul'.68a
Even so,
never questioned (and seldom justified) is the spurious legitimacy that this
'linguistic mystery tour' conferred on the metaphysical and
super-scientific
theories that were 'derived' from itover the centuries. Indeed, this is
just one more reason why ruling-class ideas become the ruling
ideas --
and they rule, alas, Marxist thought, too. Few comrades even so much as
question this picture! In fact, this is one area where right-wing ideologues
and Marxists share common ground (even if they paint the same picture using
different metaphors, and then re-employ them in different ways, to different
ends).
Worse
still: not only did a more recent 'bourgeois twist' give life to the 'rational
economic mind', it opened up the metaphysical space for ruling-class ideas about
humanity and nature to dominate and distort our idea of ourselves and hence our
relation to the 'status quo' -- receiving spurious 'scientific' support
dressed-up these days in Neo-Darwinian finery.68b
Unfortunately, this 'virus of the mind' --
the metaphysical approach to language and 'mind' -- seduces far too many
erstwhile materialists into thinking boss-class, immaterialist, individualistic
thoughts of their own. Not so much divide and rule, then, as: duped and ruled.69
Whatever merits the
philosophical-sounding arguments in favour of such an alien-class approach to
language and 'mind' possess, the results seem clear enough: This distortion of
language (i.e., the transmogrification of all words into names
designating abstract entities, concepts, ideas, essences, substances, processes
or events) amounts to its
fetishisation -- i.e.,
the distortion of
social forms of communication, so that what had once been a result of the
relation between human beings (language) is transformed into the real relations
between things, or into those things themselves -- or, indeed, into linguistic
forms that represent these things 'in our heads'.69a
And, this is
all the more unimpressive when Marxists are co-opted to this end.70
Apart
from this, there is little to
recommend the traditional approach.71
On the other
hand, perhaps Parrington meant by "thought" something pre-linguistic.
[Indeed, it seems he did.] Alternatively,
maybe he holds that the "mind" is a sort of 'container' in which "mental
entities" mill around, occasionally bobbing to the surface from time to time in
'conscious' linguistic form --, or even that they do so disguised as "images",
"feelings" or "emotions"?72
Parrington's reference to
Freud's
"unconscious" (pp.139-40)
suggests that he does indeed incline in this direction. If so, that is bad news.73
The nature of the "unconscious" is obscure, at best -- despite the
totallyundeserved
fame Freud enjoys for having 'discovered' 'it'. In fact, it is now clear that
other ruling-class theorists had already concocted this notion decades, if not
centuries, earlier.74
It is highly
doubtful whether scientific knowledge will be advanced much by the use of
fictional notions like this -- which are themselves the product of further
linguistic distortion and fetishisation.
However,
since Parrington didn't outline his ideas in this area in any great detail,
little more can be said about them.
Despite the
above dead end, what sense can be made of the following claim?
"Inner speech is the fluid interphase where meaning can start to be formed and
shaped, based on the emotional, practical and social experience of the
individual." [Parrington
(1997), pp.135-36.]
This idea is
connected with Parrington's earlier comments on something else he found in
Voloshinov:
"A related feature of inner speech that Voloshinov pointed to was that it is
more concerned with 'sense' rather than 'meaning'. In this definition, meaning
is the dictionary definition of a word, for instance cat: 'a furry domestic
quadruped'. Sense, on the other hand, refers to the whole set of psychological
events aroused by a word, such as the personal memories of your own pet and its
mannerisms, the feel of its fur and so on. It contains activities, impressions
and personal meanings, not just accepted social definitions. A word acquires its
sense from the context in which it appears; in different contexts, it changes
its sense." [Ibid.,
p.135.]
From this it
looks like Parrington is interpreting, or translating, Voloshinov's word "theme"
as "sense".75
[Incidentally, in what follows, since Parrington is using "sense" in a different
way to my use of typographically the same word, in order to prevent confusion I
will use "senseRL"
to distinguish the latter from the former, but only in this section. (My
use of "sense" is explained in Essay Twelve
Part One.) I use the
senseRL
here in the following way: it expresses what we understand to be the case for
the proposition (or
indicative
sentence) in question to be true or what we understand to be the case for the
proposition in question to be false, even if we don't know whether it is
actually true or whether it is actually false, and may never do so, or wish
to do so -- the comprehension of which allows us to understand that
proposition before we know whether it is true or whether it is false.
More on that
here, too.]
Unfortunately, the above passage is rather unclear. If the "sense" of a
linguistic expression relates to aspects of an individual's personal
recollections, intimate feelings and idiosyncratic associations, which each user
brings to language, then how are we to understand the following?
"A word acquires its sensefrom the context in which it appears;
in different contexts, it changes its sense." [Ibid.,
p.135. Bold emphasis added.]
This passage
tells us that a word "acquires its sense from the context in which it
appears" (emphasis added), not from the contingent associations a speaker
attaches to it.
Perhaps
Parrington meant by "context" the immediate framework of a speaker's life, her
memories, associations and 'values', as well as the social situation in
which she might find herself -- or even a 'dialectical' combination of these and
other related considerations?76
But, how does any of this relate to the
public use of language, which is its primary function? Private associations
may add flavour (or "tone", as certain
Analytic Philosophers
have called it) to some of our words, but they can't affect their
linguistic meaning, as we have already
seen. Or, rather, they can no more do so than, say, a person's idiosyncratic
view of money can affect its public, economic value.
Even so, it
is reasonably clear from what Parrington does say that for him the
linguistic meaning of words is (at least implicitly) the dominant factor
here. For instance, unless the word "cat" meant (linguistically) what it
actually does mean, the correct images, feelings, associations (etc.)
wouldn't be prompted in the 'mind' of the individual using, or hearing, that
word (that is, if any are so prompted). If everyone associated what they
liked (or what their psychological make-up causes in them) with any of their
words, and this was the deciding factor influencing linguistic meaning,
then the word "cat" could conjure up a dislike for fish fingers, fond memories
of the last time the individual concerned joined a strike, their hatred of
Norman
Tebbit, or, indeed, anything whatsoever.
Of course,
Parrington doesn't deny this; in fact, he says:
"A related feature of inner speech that Voloshinov pointed to was that it is
more concerned with 'sense' rather than 'meaning'. In this definition, meaning
is the dictionary definition of a word, for instance cat: 'a furry domestic
quadruped'. Sense, on the other hand, refers to the whole set of
psychological events aroused by a word, such as the personal memories of your
own pet and its mannerisms, the feel of its fur and so on. It contains
activities, impressions and personal meanings, not just accepted social
definitions. A word acquires its sense from the context in which it appears;
in different contexts, it changes its sense." [Ibid.,
p.135. Bold emphasis added.]77
But, he
couldn't have argued this way -- i.e., that the word "cat" conjured up the sorts
of associations he mentions -- if a particular user
failed to employ the word as the rest of us do, that is, to talk (typically)
about cats. If so, the public meaning (use) of any word must be primary,
even for Parrington (and Voloshinov). With that observation,
Parrington's entire case is completely undermined; if public meaning (use) in
fact governs 'outer' and "inner speech" (if, that is, the latter
exists!), then contingent idiosyncratic associations must drop out of the
picture as far as linguistic and communicative meaning are concerned. The
contingent associations Parrington lists are parasitic -- or derivative --,
at best. Naturally, that is why when someone talks about cats, for instance,
what they say will readily be comprehended by anyone who knows how to use the
word "cat" without having the associations Parrington mentions,
or without ever having owned a cat.
Of course,
the sheer ordinariness of the word "cat" obscures this point. Anyone who remains
unconvinced should try arguing as Parrington does with far less common words and
phrases -- such as "eggplant",
or "oxbow lake"
-- or, indeed, attempt to spell out the "sense" of any verb, preposition or
conjunction in this way (and good luck with that one!). In fact, and on the
contrary, provided that prospective users understand the (linguistic) meaning of
these words (i.e., provided they know how to use them properly), no personal
associations would be needed in order to employ them successfully, or, indeed,
grasp what is communicated by means of them.
Despite
this, it isn't difficult to show that "sense"/"tone" [henceforth,
S/T] can't attach to all words, or even to words in general -- as they
appear in the public domain --, and for this to function as a
primary determinant of meaning in the way that Parrington and Voloshinov
seem to think. Here, for instance, are several words that don't possess an S/T:
"and", "if", "but", "was", "inadvertently", "sense", "tone", "word",
"idiosyncratic", "theme", "meaning". [The list is, of course, endless.]
Perhaps
someone might object that such words do possess an S/T for them;
their very mention conjures up all manner of associations and feelings.
Naturally, there is no way of refuting this contention -- or, indeed, of
confirming it. And,
there is no way to determine whether or not the 'same' S/T occurs each time they
are employed by the same user, even when they appear in unusual sentences,
clauses or phrases -- like the one in the last paragraph, namely: "Here, for
instance, are several words that don't possess an S/T: 'and', 'if', 'but',
'was', 'inadvertently', 'sense', 'tone', 'word', 'idiosyncratic', 'theme',
'meaning'".
But, even if
each of these words did possess an S/T for such an objector, the images,
feelings and associations they conjured would be a result of that objector
already having understood them -- and with their usual import --
otherwise they would fail to prompt the correct images, feelings and
associations. Indeed, if this weren't so, they could in fact induce
the wrong
images, feelings and associations (if, that is, any sense can be made of the use
of "wrong" in such a context).
[Anyone who
thinks this misrepresents what Parrington is trying to say should check out
Note 78.]78
Of course,
two different words would be synonymous if they engendered the same
associations. If this were possible, "Marx" and "Hitler" could mean the same!
But, would any of this affect who it was that those two words named?
"Socialism" and "fascism" could be synonymous in the same way, too. Would a
single Marxist accept that equation? Hardly. This shows that the public,
linguistic meaning of words isn't affected by the idiosyncratic associations
anyone brings to language. And that is because the contingent feelings or
associations an individual attaches to words depend on those words being used to
identify the alleged object of those feelings correctly, and they can only do
that if they are employed in the same way that the rest of us use them.78a
Again, this
isn't to deny that idiosyncratic S/Ts might be associated with many (perhaps all
of) the above words by
someone, only that this feature of our allegedly 'private' lives can't
affect the public meaning of words.
Nevertheless, with respect to the idea that there might be a 'dialectical'
interplay between public meaning and private S/Ts, which determines the import
of the words we use, consider the following sentences:
C1: I inadvertently killed your cat.
C2: London is the Capital of the United
Kingdom.
If
Parrington and Voloshinov are right, then whatever images, feelings and
associations C1 conjures up, they would clearly be specific to the present
circumstances of this
Essay. That is, they would be connected with the reason why C1 was chosen --
which was, in turn, for it to serve as an illustrative example criticising this
aspect of dialectics! But, that fact doesn't alter C1's senseRL,
or the meaning of the words it uses. That is why we would all be able to
understand C1 before we knew whether or not it was true (or before anyone
knew what the present author was or wasn't seeking to do or accomplish by means
of C1).
Of course,
C1 contains several terms whose reference is indeterminate: Whose cat? Who is
the one claiming to have killed the said cat? Which cat? When? And so on.
[Naturally, C2 doesn't face any of these problems.] Clearly, although C1 itself
may well be understood, its precise import would have to wait on the
clarification of indeterminacies like these. But, one thing it won't have to
wait on is the pooled S/Ts of anyone hearing it or reading it. The components of
C1's actual senseRL are clearly unrelated to the pooled
S/Ts of its constituent words. The S/Ts of individual words drops out of the
picture if C1 is to be understood by both originator and recipient. The
senseRL
of C1 depends on the reference or use of the indeterminate terms it contains --
and the latter are surely independent of anyone's 'feelings', 'associations' and
'values'. So, despite what anyone feels about cats, which cat is
being referred to in C1 is independent of theirs or anyone else's
feelings. That being so, there doesn't appear to be a hook here for any sort of
'dialectical' interplay to latch onto.
Nevertheless, even if it were still maintained that all the words in C1
possessed their own individual, or idiosyncratic, S/Ts (which contributed
'dialectically' -- perhaps, orchestra-like --, to give the S/T of the whole) for
whomever it is that might be still be objecting along these lines, this would
still be irrelevant to the content expressed by C1. If each speaker
associated a content of their own to each utterance (and the latter were linked
to the S/Ts idiosyncratically connected with the words used), then it plainly
wouldn't be the same content that was being entertained by their interlocutors
(sheer coincidence to one side). Each would have their own set of S/Ts which
would be different from anyone else's. Including their own on each occasion!
In which
case, no shared content could ever be conveyed or received, and that
would completely undermine the idea that language is a social phenomenon, acting
primarily as a means of communication. The fact that we
do succeed in communicating countless times each day shows that S/Ts have
little, or no, linguistic, communicative role to play.78b
Now, readers
of the above words may or may not disagree with their import, and some may
continue to maintain that S/Ts (as understood by Parrington) are central to
their comprehension and use of language. However, such individuals may do so
only after acknowledging that they will have succeeded in understanding
the above contentious thoughts without having a clue what S/Ts their author
-- RL -- either attributed, or did not attribute, to, or associated with, any or
all of them. Upon doing
that, of course, such erstwhile contrarians would then be disagreeing
with themselves, for then it would be plain that they had grasped those
words -- even while dissenting from their content -- when that act itself could
only have succeeded because the meaning of the author's words isn't
dependent on a single S/T being attributable to any or all of them.
In addition,
die hard S/T fans (if such there be) would also need to explain, for example,
what Parrington himself meant by S/T without access to his emotional state,
biography or predilections.
Of course,
no one else would be able to comprehend even that long overdue
explanation without performing the same miraculously psychic trick on the words
of these die-hards contrarians themselves.
Oddly
enough, Parrington and Holborow both quote a passage from Voloshinov's other
work (on Freud) which they seem to think provides an important insight into the
entire nature of language and communication:
"How does verbal discourse in life
relate to the extraverbal situation that has engendered it? Let us analyse this
matter, using an intentionally simplified example for the purpose.
"Two people are sitting in a room. They
are both silent. Then one of them says, 'Well!' The other does not respond.
"For us outsiders this entire 'conversation' is utterly incomprehensible. Taken
in isolation, the utterance…is empty and unintelligible. Nevertheless,
this…colloquy of two persons…does make perfect sense…." [Voloshinov (1987),
p.99; quoted in Holborow (1999), p.29, and Parrington (1997),
p.127. Quotation marks altered to conform
with the conventions adopted at this site.]79
Parrington then points out that while this communicative episode might be given
an indefinite (potentially infinite?) number of interpretations, Voloshinov was
able to reduce them to manageable proportions by arguing that:
"…[they] must take place within the particular space where differences in a
word's meaning can be registered, namely between two speakers in a particular
social context." [Parrington (1997),
p.127.]
Undoubtedly, "Well!" could (and probably does) have a different (speaker's)
meaning to users and hearers alike on different occasions of use. But,
Parrington's response won't do. In any social context, the word "Well!" could
mean practically anything. If we are to zero in on only one of them out of the
many, we would already have to understand our interlocutors, or risk a high
probability of guessing wrong.
As we have
seen above, it is central to Voloshinov's theory that "theme" is (radically)
different in each social situation for any given utterance, as is meaning, and
hence that they vary from one conversational interaction to the next. If we
estimate that the entire human population capable of uttering this word in their
own tongues is approximately five billion, the number of unique pairs of
conversationalists selectable from this set is roughly 1.25x1019.
[This is 125 followed by seventeen zeros!] Hence, in any given 'social
situation' comprising just two people, we would have the potential for at
least that number of different meanings as either one of them uttered this word.
If we now generalise across all actual and/or conceivable 'social situations',
and expand the scope this scenario to include the many different audience sizes
there are (ranging from one to many millions) this already huge number would
escalate beyond all comprehension. Finally, if we add to this all the different
words that could be uttered in all languages, in all circumstances, the
resulting numbers would soon become unmanageable.
Unfortunately, the magnitude of even that astronomical set of diverse
'meanings' would itself become insignificantly small if we
re-introduce Voloshinov's other vague notion (i.e., "theme") -- which is, so we
are told, unique to each moment (let alone each "social context") -- and
which, according to him, supposedly determines meaning (as far as can be
ascertained, that is!).
Moreover, if we now assume that the
average conversationalist lives for approximately forty speaking years (averaged
across all populations, reduced to account for sleep, etc.), and that each
'theme-instant' lasts just one
second, then any one utterance of "Well!" by each speaker (and in the ear of
each hearer) could take on approximately 1.3x109
[13 followed by eight zeros] different additional
meanings, if said at any one of those instants. If we now recall that for
Voloshinov the microscopic details surrounding any utterance affect its
"theme", then one second would probably be far too long. Consequently, the
number of 'meanings' available to the average speaker in a lifetime, while not
infinite, would be, on this view, excessively large. Naturally, this would mean
that the chances of any speaker accessing the 'correct' meaning of any of their
interlocutors' words would be vanishingly small. Voloshinov's disarming
reassurance that speakers and hearers lock onto each other's meanings isn't at
all convincing, especially since his theory leads one to suppose that no one
would ever manage to do this because of the baleful influence of Occasionalism
and "theme".80
Quite apart
from this, the idea that the consideration of one-word sentences like
this warrants conclusions about the general use of language across an
entire population (and throughout all of human history) is bizarre in the
extreme! Indeed, the fact that the above comrades based their
scientific-sounding conclusions on this one example (which is itself a
laughably weak evidential base (i.e.,
it is aone-word sentence!)) is as astounding as it is alarming.80a
Nevertheless, Parrington and Holborow failed to consider perhaps more revealing
scenarios for the use of single-word sentences, such as the following:
M1: Several comrades are on a picket
line. The Police fire tear gas. A canister is heading toward a group of pickets.
Comrade NN spots it and shouts (for the first time in his life):
"Incoming!"
Are we
really expected to believe that "incoming" is only comprehensible to one or two
in this group -- maybe only those who know the biography, likes, dislikes and
preferences of the one who shouted the warning? Or, that only those with the
requisite 'associations' will dive for cover? Do we really
have to appeal to "private meanings" to explain the subsequent scattering of
these individuals? Do these pickets have to sift through the countless
likely social settings they might or might not have encountered in the past
before they hit on the correct reading of this warning, and then proceed to act?
If the
answer to these is "No", as surely it must be, then it is safe to conclude that
just as one militant doesn't make a movement, one conversation doesn't make a
theory.
Indeed, if
we were to consider more complex conversations, the completely bizarre nature of
the idea under consideration here would become even more apparent.
Now, it
could be argued that this is grossly unfair to Parrington and Holborow in that
the argument above (i.e., that which depends on those unmanageably large
numbers, etc.) ignores what Parrington himself says:
"…[they] must take place within the particular space where differences in a
word's meaning can be registered, namely between two speakers in a particular
social context." [Ibid.,
p.127.]
Hence, it
could be pointed out that an interlocutor's knowledge of the social
circumstances -- these perhaps including conversational and situational
assumptions or implications about which only those party to this conversation
are aware, or which form part of the tacit
knowledge each speaker brings to any setting -- would reduce the
possible interpretations of this word to manageable proportions.
Admittedly,
the fact that people do utter one-word sentences and succeed in communicating in
such circumstances does seem to support Parrington and Holborow's case. However,
since it isn't in dispute here that acts of communication do indeed take place,
this is of little help. It is how and why conversationalists
manage to do this that is still up for grabs.
Despite
this, it might be felt that Voloshinov does in fact narrow down the options when
he argues that a close, even microscopic scrutiny of the word "Well!" won't help
us understand this "conversation". Voloshinov then goes on to say:
"Let us suppose that the intonation with
which this word was pronounced is known to us: indignation and reproach
moderated with a certain amount of humour. This intonation somewhat fills the
semantic void of the adverb well but still does not reveal the meaning of
the whole.
"What is it we lack, then? We lack the
'extraverbal context' that made the word well a meaningful locution for
the listener. This extraverbal context of the utterance is comprised of
three factors: (1) the common spatial purview of the interlocutors (the unity of
the visible -- in this case, the room, the window, and so on), (2) the
interlocutors' common knowledge and understanding of the situation, and
(3) their common evaluation of that situation.
"At the time the colloquy took place,
both interlocutors looked up at the window and saw
that it had begun to snow; both knew that it was already May and that it
was high time for spring to come; finally, both were sick and tired
of the protracted winter -- they were both looking forward to spring and
both were bitterly disappointed by the late snowfall. On this 'jointly
seen' (snowflakes outside the window), 'jointly known' (the time of the year --
May) and 'unanimously evaluated' (winter wearied of, spring looked forward to)
-- on all this the utterance directly depends, all this is seized in its
actual, living import -- is its very sustenance. And yet all this remains
without verbal specification or articulation. The snowflakes remain outside the
window; the date, on the page of a calendar; the evaluation, in the psyche of
the speaker; and, nevertheless, all this is assumed in the word well."
[Voloshinov (1987), p.99. Italic emphases in the original. Quotation
marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.]
There are
several points in Voloshinov's argument that are worthy of comment:
(1) In the
above, any words that might have been spoken in the build-up to this
'conversation' were omitted. And yet, it is only on the basis of such shared
words (had he heard them) that Voloshinov would feel confident enough to tell us
that these two conversationalists had over-lapping knowledge, beliefs,
evaluations and attitudes, as well as a joint appreciation of the surrounding
circumstances of this conversation and knowledge of one another. Now, if these
two had been total strangers, the whole scene could, and probably would
have taken on a completely different complexion. Hence, Voloshinov is acting
like the author of a novel; he is supplying the reader with an almost 'god'-like
view of the recent biography, thoughts, beliefs and intentions of his
characters. So, all the 'shared background details' are in fact part of
Voloshinov's imputations and assumptions, not those of these two fictional
individuals. No wonder then that he can pack so much into this one word
sentence, and into this one scene; it is his word, his scene, and
his
understanding of both that is on show here, not theirs.
(2) The
above scenario was clearly tailored to fit the purposes Voloshinov intended for
it, where two interlocutors shared much in their current surroundings and
background knowledge. But, this isn't always the case. Many conversations are
between total strangers, and yet communication is, nonetheless, typically
successful. Even those that take place between friends and acquaintances aren't
always so well coordinated or tightly constrained. In that case, very little of
substance can be inferred from this special case.
(3) Even so,
given the circumstances depicted by Voloshinov, this one word might still mean
many things. All we have to do is introduce a few more details, and what might
seem to Voloshinov to be the obvious and clear-cut implications of the use of
this one word will soon become its opposite. So, let us assume that (a) Speaker
A had heard earlier that morning that her daughter was going to visit that
afternoon, and that (b) Speaker B was planning on going to the beach --
both, weather permitting. In that case, "Well!" said by
A could (speaker's meaning) mean any one of the following: (i) "That's
torn it!" My daughter will have to cancel!", (ii) "Oh dear! I do hope my
daughter will be safe driving!", (iii) "Drat! I was so looking forward to seeing
her!", (iv) "The weather forecaster is an idiot! He predicted sunshine today!"
(v) "Darn it! This means I can't do any gardening this afternoon!", and a host
of other things. All the while B could take it to mean (i) "That's our
plans out of the window!", (ii) "She [i.e., A] means I can't go to the
beach. I'll show her!", (iii) "She wants my opinion, but what do I know...?",
(iv) "She keeps saying that! What the hell does she mean!", and a host of other
things besides.
So, apposite
though Voloshinov's comments are with respect to the surrounding circumstances
in which conversationalists can be imputed to hold some things in common --
in this special case --, this thought experiment isn't much use in helping
us understand meaning in language in general. Naturally, that is because one
word can't on its own tell us much, whereas full sentences can. And that
is partly why Frege's context principle (introduced earlier -- on that, see Note
24) is far more fruitful
in this respect than anything Voloshinov committed to paper.
It is also
worth pointing out that Voloshinov wrote in sentences, not single words. So,
even he had little faith in his own theory!
Another
dubious notion that makes its appearance in Parrington and Holborow's work
(which they both appropriated from Voloshinov) is that all words are
somehow ideologically coloured, or compromised.81
As Holborow puts it:
"Voloshinov's starting point is the
ideological nature of all signs, including language. He defines a sign as
that which 'represents depicts or stands for something outside itself'
(Voloshinov 1973:9). This correspondence is an essential feature of all signs….
Sign systems exist side by side with material reality, not independently of it.
"'A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point of
view…every sign is subject to the criteria of ideological evaluation…. The
domain of ideology coincides with the domain of signs. They equate with one
another. Wherever a sign is present, ideology is present too….' (1973:10…)
"The quality of signs to represent, to
'reflect and refract another reality', to interpret, is what gives them their
conceptual potency and makes words the very stuff of ideology…." [Holborow
(1999), p.25; quoting Voloshinov (1973), pp.9-10.]82
However,
when Voloshinov says that:
"A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point of
view…", [Voloshinov (1973), p.10.]
it isn't too
clear whether he means that there are several of these 'realities' which are
"reflected or refracted" [henceforth
R/R] -- or only one 'reality' that is R/R-ed in different
ways.83
But, if he
were right, Voloshinov's own use of signs could have (must have?) distorted
things, too, so what his words have R/R-ed might not be (can't be?) really
real -- if we must use this unfortunate way of expressing things. In that
case, it would seem that Voloshinov himself might have misrepresented and/or
distorted the subject of his own thesis by the use of yet more of these
inherently unreliable 'signs'. If so, Voloshinov's own words can't be trusted
to tell us the truth!
If exception
is taken to this, then how might we decide whether or not we can trust
Voloshinov's words? It seems we can't, since, in order to do so, we too will
have to use yet more of these dubious 'signs'!
And yet, if
there is no way of deciding, what sense is there to the claim that 'signs' might
be misleading? Isn't that very thought (expressed in 'signs') itself
misleading? If it is, then there is no good reason to accept it. If
it isn't, then Voloshinov is wrong anyway.
Either way,
the rational thing to do is reject this gratuitous slur on innocent 'signs'.
Alternatively, if Voloshinov is saying that
everything (both 'sign' and the things allegedly 'signified') is
capable of distortion, or of causing it, then the conclusion that there is no
such thing as reality is no less suspect, itself, in view of the fact that
we have to use yet more 'signs' to R/R that particular conclusion. But, in that
case, exactly what are our 'signs' R/R-ing? Even worse, how do we even know
there are any 'signs', to begin with? Any attempt to reassure us that
'signs' exist must itself be expressed in 'signs', and hence must, of necessity,
distort things! Indeed, isn't the inherently unreliable 'sign' "reality" itself
entirely bogus when used in such circumstances? So, given what he says, the
contrast Voloshinov wished to draw between reality and our distorted images of
it can't in fact be drawn, for on his own account Voloshinov had to use several
untrustworthy 'signs' to make that very point. That being so, there is (for him)
no 'reality' against which anyone could compare or contrast even the mildest of
distortions with what 'signs' supposedly R/R -- nor could he truly report on them even
if there were any!
Naturally,
this means no distortion can have taken place -- at which point this theory
self-destructs, once more.84
Unfortunately, Parrington and Holborow are silent on this issue. This isn't all
that surprising since any comment they might wished to have made about what
Voloshinov could have meant (this side of their using some form of telepathy
that doesn't employ 'signs') will have distorted what he actually had to say --
always assuming, of course, there is such a thing as "What Voloshinov actually
had to say", to begin with!
It could be
objected that Voloshinov in fact said the following:
"A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point
of view…." [Voloshinov (1973), p.10. Bold emphasis added.]
Hence, not
all 'signs' distort reality, and that might still be true of the words, or
'signs', employed by anyone trying to report what Voloshinov really said.
So, the above comments are completely misguided.
But, how are
we to tell which signs do the one and which do the other? Which are distorting
and which aren't? It seems we can't possibly decide, since we are forced to use
yet more suspect 'signs'
while trying to exonerate only some of them.
Ignoring
whatever else we might think of the
fetishisation of 'signs' explicit
in the above quoted passage (which seems to suggest that 'signs' are agents
that control us!), it is worth pursuing the above difficulties a little
further.
It isn't
entirely clear what it means to suggest that every use of 'signs' is
ideological -- if
this is what Voloshinov indeed meant (and our attempt to depict what he said
doesn't thereby distort the "reality" he sought to depict about ideology
itself!).84a
Once more,
if every use of 'signs' is potentially distorting, it is difficult to see how
any 'signs' could be employed to R/R reality -- or, indeed, what the word
"reality" itself could possibly mean --
or, worse, how it would be possible even to report this 'fact' accurately.
If words -- operating as 'signs' -- are irredeemably ideological, then how might
they be used correctly to refer to anything at all? Presumably, this would only
happen if some uses of 'signs' weren't ideological; that is, if in some
circumstances they did indeed truly R/R reality -- as opposed to merely
expressing ideological or class interests -- so that we might give some sort of
content to the supposition that on other occasions they do in fact
distort reality. But, if every use of words is ideological, then,
naturally, we can't appeal to this contrast (as already noted) -- and neither
could we trust even that assertion, for it, too, would be ideological,
and hence of suspect import (and so on).
Of course,
it could be argued that ideology doesn't distort reality, it merely inverts it.
However, Voloshinov's own metaphor (i.e., R/R itself) implies distortion,
whatever else Marx meant by his use of this word. [However, on that see
Note 83
and Note 84.] Moreover, Voloshinov
himself declared that signs can distort "reality":
"A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may
distort that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special
point of view…." [Voloshinov (1973), p.10. Bold emphasis added.]
Finally,
the idea that words are
'signs' is itself rather odd. Certainly, words can appear in signs
(for example, on a placard or badge saying "Victory to the Miners!"), and in
certain circumstances they can feature as signs themselves (as when the word
"red" might be coloured red to make a point in, say, a psychological
experiment), but words can't be signs. The reasons for saying this are
rather complex, and are outlined in Note 85.85
In addition
to the above, it is also worth pointing out that language itself can't be
ideological. As I argued in Essay Four
Part One(see also
Essay Three Part Two):
Admittedly, ordinary language
may be used to express patent of falsehoods, as well as offensive, reactionary
and regressive of ideas, but it can't itself be affected by "false
consciousness" (and that isn't just because the latter notion was foreign to
Marx; on that see
here), nor can it be
"ideological".
Without doubt, everyday sentences
can express all manner of backward, racist, sexist and ideologically-compromised
notions, but this isn't the fault of the medium in which these are expressed,
any more than it is the fault of, say, a computer if it is used to post racist
bile on a web page. Ideologically-contaminated ideas expressed in ordinary
language result either from its misuse or from the employment of specialised
vocabularies borrowed from religious dogma, sexist beliefs, reactionary
ideology, homophobic bigotry, racist theories or superstitious ideas. This isn't
to suggest that ordinary humans don't, or can't, speak in such backward ways;
but this is dependent on the latter being expressed in ordinary language, while
it isn't dependent on that language as such. That particular claim might sound
paradoxical, so I will attempt to clarify what is meant by it.
First of all, this defence of
ordinary language isn't being advanced dogmatically. Every user of the
vernacular knows it to be true since they know that for each and every sexist,
racist and ideologically-compromised sentence expressible in ordinary language
there exists its negation.
This is why socialists can assert
such things as: "Blacks aren't inferior"; "Human beings aren't selfish"; "Wages
aren't fair", "Women aren't sex objects", "Belief in the after-life is
baseless", "LGBTQ individuals aren't perverts" -- and still be understood,
even by those still in thrall to these ideas but who might hold the
opposite view. If ordinary language were identical with 'commonsense' --
and if it were ideological (per se) in the way that some imagine -- you
just couldn't say such things. We all know this to be true -- certainly,
socialists should know this --, because in our practice we manage to deny
such things every day.
So, as noted above, while ordinary
language might be used to express patent of falsehoods, as well as offensive,
reactionary and regressive of ideas -- and, in order to express such ideas,
reactionary, racist, sexist or homophobic individuals might depend on ordinary
language in order to give voice to their vile, or their anti-socialist,
opinions, the fact that socialist can reject all such ideas, using the very
same medium, means that the vernacular as such can't itself be associated
with those ideas.
In which case, it is odd that
socialists don't advance the opposite claim: because we can with relative
ease explain socialist ideas in the vernacular -- just as we can challenge the
regressive ideas mentioned above -- ordinary language is inherently
progressive. Now, I'm not promoting that idea myself, merely asking
why socialists are quite so quick to malign, or depreciate, the language of the
working class, and assume that because there are regressive ideas expressible in
the vernacular that this automatically condemns it, while at the same time they
ignore their own use of the vernacular to propagandise and agitate the working
class. [On this, see
Grant (n.d).]
In this regard, it is as ironic as
it is inexcusable that there are revolutionaries who, while they are only too
ready to regale us with the alleged limitations of ordinary language -- on the
grounds that it reflects "commodity fetishism", "false consciousness" or
"formal/static thinking" --, are quite happy to accept (in whole or in part)
impenetrably obscure ideas lifted from the work of a card-carrying, ruling-class
hack like Hegel. Not only are his theories based on alienated thought-forms
(i.e., mystical Christianity and
Hermeticism), his Absolute
Idealism was a direct result of the systematic fetishisation of language --
indeed, as Marx noted:
"Feuerbach's
great achievement is.... The proof that philosophy is nothing else but
religion rendered into thought and expounded by thought, i.e., another form
and manner of existence of the estrangement [alienation -- RL] of the
essence of man; hence equally to be condemned...." [Marx
(1975b), p.381. I have
used the on-line version, here. Bold emphases and link added.]
Finally, despite
what Voloshinov says about those who "ignore
theme", they are probably well advised to continue doing just that --
that is, should we ever be told what wtf "theme" actually is!
If the
(linguistic) meanings of words were in general
dependent upon their intended sentential use we wouldn't be able to
comprehend the use of ostensibly familiar words in new surroundings --
until, that is, we had first apprehended the intentions of those who uttered
them, or the use to which they wanted to put that sentence. A recent and rather
comical example might help illustrate the point. A few years ago, 'The
Sex-Pest-In-Chief', Donald Trump,
had this to say on Twitter (now X):
Despite the constant negative
covfefe...
This nearly
broke Twitter and the Internet as hundreds of thousands of individuals
tried to figure out what "covfefe" meant. It also provided ample ammunition and
opportunity for countless
Internet wags to poke fun at this easy target. Here are just a few:
Figures Two, Three, Four, And
Five: Covfefe Fun
Figures Six, Seven, Eight And
Nine: More Covfefe Fun
Thousands of people tried to work out what Trumplestiltskin
meant, but all of them concentrated on what he might have
intended to type in place of "covfefe", the most likely candidate being
"coverage". No one, to my knowledge, argued that once they had worked out The
Liar-in-Chief's intentions, "covfefe" could then be counted as a genuine word
in the language. If intentions decided meaning, they would surely have
argued this. Quite the opposite, they suggested an everyday substitute word that
would have allowed 'The Racist-in-Chief' to express his intentions, and that
guess was based on the orthographic similarities between "coverage" and
"covfefe", as well as the fact that "coverage" fitted the drift of the sentence
itself and the things this 'Coiffured Carpetbagger' had tweeted before:
Despite the constant negative
coverage...
Since this
'Walking Disaster' tweets at night, and he is now clearly well in his dotage, he
obviously fell asleep mid sentence.
What
speakers say coupled perhaps with their overt behaviour, their character
-- if known --, and the surrounding circumstances are often our best guide to
what they intend to say, not the other way round. Naturally, their intentions (if
they can be ascertained) may affect the way we then try to make sense of why
they might have said what they did (i.e., their speaker's meaning), they can't
in general alter what the words they employ mean in the language. This doesn't
of course imply that the intentions of speakers are unrelated to their choice of
words, or
how they use them (manifestly, their aims and intentions will largely govern
why they chose the words they did and what they hoped to achieve by using them,
etc.). It does
mean, however, that the sense of any sentences they utter and the meaning of the
words they employ aren't in general so dependent. In fact, far from intention
determining (linguistic) meaning, or even sentential sense, the reverse is, if
anything, the case; the latter shapes the former, not the other way round. We
form the intentions we do because of our socialisation and our facility
with language. This can be seen by the way we actually use language to speak
about intentions (etc.). [On this see Anscombe (2000), Hursthouse (2000), Kenny
(1973a, 1975, 1992, 2003), and Teichmann (2008).]
Indeed, if
intentions
could affect sense and meaning in general, then, in such circumstances, a
speaker's words would be unrelated to his/her past use of 'similar' words, or
even to their accepted meanings (except fortuitously). A new extra-linguistic
context would thus define a new 'meaning'. In that case, any words at all
would suffice (and we would all use 'words' like "covfefe" all the time). If
context, intention and the use of sentences (and only
these) determined meaning, then a 'word' could be given any (linguistic) meaning
whatsoever by an intention to so use it on just that occasion. But, in such
circumstances even the meaning of the word "word" would begin to lose its grip.
Naturally, that would rule out all communication between speakers since there
would be nothing in the past use of a word (or sentence) that a hearer could
latch on to, to assist in the comprehension of what was being said on this
new occasion. Interlocutors would confront each other like speakers of
foreign languages do -- only in this case, they would be employing similar
sounding words that now possessed unknown meanings. [Except that, in this
case, we couldn't even say that much!]
Moreover, if
the use of whole sentences determined the meaning of their constituent
words, then the inner structure of sentences would be irrelevant; word order and
grammar would be unnecessary. Furthermore, inferences drawn between sentences
would become problematic -- unless, that is, the unit of meaning was extended to
sets of sentences. But, even then, that would only compound the problem.
In addition,
the concept we now have of the
misuse of a word would be undermined, since on this basis no one could
misuse a word if there was an intention of some sort underlying its actual
employment (and that in turn would compromise one of Wittgenstein's major
criticisms of Metaphysics). There would then be no such thing as a
malapropism or even a
Spoonerism.
In fact, it
is impossible even to spell-out the details of this idea (i.e., that sentence
use and intention can affect the meaning of words). The reasons for asserting
this are pretty clear. Suppose someone were to say:
C1: "The leaflets advertising the
meeting have arrived."
But,
'intended' to mean:
C2: "I think you should start handing
them out."
If this were
a general feature of the use of language, then,
as noted above, the intended 'meaning' itself (i.e., C2) would also be
impossible to state, for it too would 'mean' something else. On the other
hand, if it
didn't 'mean' something else, this theory would fall at the first hurdle,
since there would be at least one sentence whose meaning wasn't sensitive to the
intentions of its user, namely C2. Naturally, it wouldn't be difficult to
generalise this across all such sentences, which, once done, would mean that if,
per impossible, this theory were valid, it wouldn't be possible to say
what it implied -- since the linguistic expression of any such supposed
intention would be subject to the very same equivocation. [I am, of course,
blurring the distinction between the sense of indicative sentences/propositions
and the meaning of words, here. That is because those who adopt the
Occasionalist view of language regularly blur it. As do many Analytic
Philosophers! In fact, many even reject this distinction out-of-hand. This adds
further complications to their theory I won't enter into here.]
Conversely,
if in general the words found in C2 meant exactly what they say
(and they did so without the need for any further paraphrase, translation or
consideration of the supposed intentions involved), there would be no good
reason why the same couldn't be true of C1.
Compare that
with the following:
C3: "The arrived have leaflets the for
meeting advertised."
If the
'intended meaning' of C3 was still:
C2: "I think you should start handing
them out",
then C3
could just as well be uttered instead of C1, and no one would be puzzled or
would scratch their heads.
And, if we
are fully consistent, there is no reason why C3 itself couldn't be seen
as 'intending' the following jumbled up sentence:
C4: "I out think handing you them start
should."
Or,
indeed, anything whatsoever.
If sentence structure were susceptible to the sort of radical reconstructive
surgery we see in C3 (because of the doctrine that intentions determine meaning
-- and/or sense -- which would clearly obviate the need for any sort of syntax
or grammar), then this would also apply to intentions themselves -- or at
least to their linguistic expression -- as illustrated in and by C4. If
intentions were sufficient to determine meaning, who would need a settled
grammar or syntax? On the other hand, if grammar and syntax are integral to our
use of language, what space is there left for intentions to decide on anything
other than
speaker's meaning?
Of course,
where people utter odd sentences (or, the language in question isn't their first
language and they are struggling to make themselves understood), an educated
guess concerning the intentions of the speaker (i.e., what those are or might
be) will assist in making sense of what they are trying to say. But, even
then, intentions won't affect what any of the words they use actually mean.
The
situation is even worse if word misuse is now thrown in:
C5: The boy stood between the lamppost
(sic).
C6: It square-rooted each other's onion
slippers (sic).
C7: Many years ago, my cat is flying
off-side in tennis tomorrow (sic).
Putting to
one side whether or not these might be coded messages of some sort, it isn't
easy to connect the radical misuse of words these sentences exhibit with any set
of conceivable intentions (except, perhaps, those displayed by individuals who
might want to create confusion, surprise or consternation, etc.) -- the
linguistic expression of which intentions couldn't itself contain an equally
bizarre use of words (like those found in C4). On the contrary, the linguistic
expression of an intention would have to be impeccable in all respects if we
were to grasp, or even express, that intention -- unlike C4. And, if that
is so, why can't it also be true of C1?
C4: "I out think handing you them start
should."
C1: "The leaflets advertising the
meeting have arrived."
Coded
messages to one side again, in order to see this more clearly the reader is
invited to try to use any one of C5-C7 above to 'intend' to mean either or both
of the following:
C8: The strike begins on Monday week.
C9: Orange is darker than black but not
as sweet as vinegar.
[C5: The boy stood between the lamppost
(sic).
C6: It square-rooted each other's onion
slippers (sic).
C7: Many years ago, my cat is flying
off-side in tennis tomorrow (sic).]
As will
readily be apparent, that isn't possible. This alone shows intentions take their
lead from our (rule-governed) use of language, not the other way round.
Indeed, if
language were in general dependent on such bizarre 'translations', words like
"intention", "occasion", "meaning" and "word" would begin to lose their grip --
again, as noted above -- which is just another reason why this theory can't
consistently be stated.
The obvious
objection here would be to point out that no one would use such odd sentences.
But why not? What constraints are there on the sorts of intentions we can form
if not those already dictated to us by our socialisation and the
rule-governed use of language, by means of which this is accomplished?
To be sure,
deliberate errors over syntax and grammar -- in addition to the innovative
use of vocabulary and sentence structure -- can extend a language (as we will
soon see with respect to England's
world-famous bard). Manifestly, this often happens in literature and in the
course of the social evolution of discourse, etc. -- in fact, Voloshinov himself
gives a rather good example of this on pp.55-56 of his book. But, it can only
take place if it is based on currently shared word use and on a locally
universal syntax/grammar. This must be so if total incomprehension is to be
avoided. That is partly why my use of "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" (in V7, from
earlier) didn't amount to a
literary event of any great moment -- whatever intentions lay behind it.
This point
can be illustrated by considering an example of the idiosyncratic use of
language that occurs annually in a school where a supporter of this site
teaches, which I am sure happens elsewhere. There are regular charitable events
all year; one of these involves the pupils each paying £1 so that they may
attend school casually dressed -- i.e., without their uniforms for that day, but
in clothes of their own choosing (this sort of thing is called 'Dress-Down/Casual
Friday' in the USA). The staff can also pay whatever they feel is
appropriate so that they, too, can wear whatever clothes they want on the same
day. A collection box in the staff room has a notice on it that reads: "Put your
own clothes money in here", which on the face of it doesn't seem to make much
sense. Whether you pay or not you are presumably going to wear your own clothes!
And no one is going to put the money they have already used to buy those
clothes or which they intend to use to buy clothes in the future (i.e., the
money they used weeks or months ago, or might use next week, to purchase their
"own clothes") in the box -- "their own clothes money".
Plainly, the
circumstances surrounding the use of this sentence changes the meaning (or
interpretation) of some or all of the words it contains. Here: "own clothes" is
short for something like: "your own choice of clothes" (but even that is
misleading, since whatever is selected will represent a choice of clothes by the
wearer her/himself), or, perhaps, "clothes not required by your contract of
employment or code of conduct" (etc.). Now, this is a clear case of the use of a
sentence in particular surroundings where the ordinary meaning of some of the
words it contains isn't ascertainable
solely from their past employment. Having said that, the novel use of a
sentence like this is stillrelated to the established meaning of
its constituent terms -- otherwise the notice on the box could have read
"Place a dead kipper on the computer's maiden aunt" (with the meaning of each of
these words having no connection with their past use, either!), while supposedly
'meaning' the 'same' as the actual sentence used -- or even, "Covfefe your
clothes money!".
Consider
another example: in football/soccer games, commentators will often say things
like "Saved by the woodwork" when a ball hits a goal post or cross bar, and
bounces out. But, they can't mean this, since if there had been no post
or cross bar in the way of the ball, there couldn't have been a goal (or a
game), to begin with! What these commentators clearly mean is something like
"That was a near miss!", or "What a stroke of luck!" So here, the usual meaning
of these words coupled with the rules of football/soccer aren't a sure guide to
what was intended. However, having said that, these commentators plainly
wouldn't say in these circumstances "Sliced into the rough, again!" or even
"Who put that post there!?" The irony of "Saved by the woodwork!" is understood
by all who know football/soccer, which is why these words seem so apposite. This
is despite the fact thatthe speaker's intended meaning
fails to align with what his/her words actually say, and yet, no one
supposes that this odd use of language changes what words like "woodwork" and
"saved" in fact mean -- otherwise they wouldn't have been used.
Update 07/04/2020: During the ongoing
Coronavirus pandemic we have begun to hear things like this (about cancelled
football/soccer games, for example):
"No ball has been kicked in anger in the
football-mad country since March 9 because of an outbreak that bore down on
Italy from China last month." [Quoted from
here; accessed 07/04/2020.]
No one
understands this literally, either -- i.e., that football can only be
played, or is normally engaged in by footballers who are fuming or who are
resentful. Plainly, the above individual meant that no ball had been
kicked in a competitive game for a month. Again, having said that, no one at all
would understand this odd use of language if, instead of the above, we had read
the following (assuming the intentions of the individual concerned were the same
and no coded messages were implied):
"No
narwhal has
been filtered in vinegar in this crocus-mad bottle of beer...."
But, if
intentions determined meaning the individual who came out with the first of
above could just as well have used the second, and we would all know what he was
trying to say.
It is often
said that the famous English playwright
and poet, William
Shakespeare, coined at least
1700 new words (such
as "hint", "bedroom", "luggage" and "bandit" -- from the Italian "bandeto"),
which appears to contradict some of the points advanced in this part of the
Essay. But, many of these 'new words' were already in use, Shakespeare just
changed their meaning/use or he altered their spelling slightly (for instance,
"hent" was already a word in English at the time and meant roughly what "hint"
now means). On other occasions he simply added prefixes/suffixes to certain
words, modified others so they fitted the rhyming pattern of his work (for
example, he employed "bedroom" in place of "bedchamber", a word that was used in
this way at the time, since it fitted the
iambic pentameter of
the passage in which it occurred), co-opted foreign words (for example "bandit",
as we have seen, and "hostile" from the French), or he was simply the first to
put these terms in print (although they were very likely already in use -- on
that see below --, but perhaps not in print).
Here is a
very useful and informative video by two language experts that covers this topic
and provides context to this aspect of Shakespeare's innovative use of language
(among several other connected topics):
Video Four: Shakespeare's 'Word
Invention'
Clearly,
there had to be space in the language for Shakespeare to introduce new or
newish words and hope to be be understood. Relying on his supposed
intentions would have got his readers nowhere. Indeed, as the above two
experts point out, Shakespeare's plays were written and performed for and in
front of ordinary people, not the 'intelligentsia' or the rich, so, by
and large, he would have employed language they understood and words they were
already using.
Finally, sometimes we will hear speakers utter familiar words in rather
odd-looking sentences, phrases or combinations, but which we still readily
comprehend. For example, one individual might say to another "You know where the
door is", and we all know what they mean -- i.e., "Please leave!" No one takes
this to be an attempt to find out if the second individual does in fact know
where a certain door is located (even though that presumed fact can be inferred
from the use of
this
sentence, otherwise it wouldn't have been uttered; the first person assumes the
second isn't new to the building). If that were the case (i.e., if this
were an enquiry into the second person's knowledge of the whereabouts of the
said door), the sentence would instead have been a question: "You know where the
door is?", signalled by a slight rise in the voice at the end of uttering it (an
inflection called an "uptalk").
But, it is the use of just these words (in what is now a clichéd
sentence) that allows us to infer the first speaker's intentions, not the
other way round -- otherwise she could have said "You know where my cat is",
or "Have you taken my wife's hat?" in its place, and 'meant' "Please leave!".86
While
Voloshinov's book is ostensively about the Philosophy of Language, its
main aim seems to be to advance the Science of Linguistics.87
However, by pitching his work in both camps, Voloshinov managed to replicate
many of the metaphysical confusions that have crippled 'Materialist Dialectics'
-- chief among which is the complete absence of any
evidence substantiating his many bold claims. Indeed, Voloshinov's book has
little else in it other than a priori assertions and dogmatic theories
about meaning, understanding, evaluative import, "theme", "consciousness", and
so on.87a
Hence, far from resembling a work of science, Voloshinov's book reads
more like
Traditional Philosophical Dogma. For instance, there are none of the
following (which one would expect to find in a scientific report, book or
paper): experimental detail coupled with graphs, tables, diagrams, photographs,
charts, spread sheets, primary data, mathematical analysis, etc., etc.
Naturally,
this means that Voloshinov's work succeeds in doing what Traditional Philosophy
has always done -- that is, it
confuses
a priori thesis-mongering with science itself.
[I examine
some of the 'evidence' others have offered in support of Voloshinov's theory,
below.]
On a related
topic, despite the fact that most of what Parrington and Holborow say
undermines the role that language plays in communication -- reinforcing the
view that language serves to 'represent' things to us in our heads (even if this
process is filtered through our own idiosyncrasies, attitudes, social situation,
prevailing ideologies, etc., etc.) --, they appear to believe that human beings
developed language because of a "need to communicate". This is how Holborow puts
it:
"The genesis of language is in human
labour…. Communication is not therefore just one of the functions of language;
on the contrary, language presupposes both logically and de facto the
interaction among people. Language only arises from the need to communicate with
other humans. It is quintessentially social." [Holborow (1999), p.20.]
Parrington
concurs:
"Crucially labour...developed within a co-operative and social context. It was
this that led, through the need to communicate while engaging in co-operative
labour, to the rise of the second specifically human attribute -- language."
[Parrington (1997),
p.122.]88
As far as I am aware,
this was an idea first explored by Rousseau:
"As soon as one man was recognised by another as
a sentient, thinking being similar to himself, the desire or need to
communicate his sentiments and thoughts made him seek the means to do so.
These means can only be drawn from the senses, the only instruments by which one
man can act upon another. Hence the institution of sensible signs to express
thought. The inventors of language did not make this argument, but instinct
suggested its conclusion to them." [Rousseau, Essay On The Origin Of
Languages, quoted in
Knight (2010a). Bold emphasis added. Readers will no doubt note that
Rousseau clearly thinks that human beings could think before they could talk.]
While I
don't wish to question the role that co-operative labour has played in the
development of language and thought (quite the opposite, in fact),
several aspects of these two quotations seem highly dubious, especially the idea
that human beings invented language because of a "need to communicate".
To be sure, we use language to communicate, but the claim that it arose
because of a specific need to communicate is highly questionable -- that
is, except forLamarckians.
Of course,
the word "need" is ambiguous itself. We use it in a variety of different ways.
Consider just a few:
N1: That cake needs more sugar.
N2: This strike needs to be widened.
N3: You need to put oil in your engine.
N4: We need a pay rise.
N5: The giraffe needs a long neck to
browse tall trees.
N6: That drunk needs to go home.
N7: Plants need water.
N8: The state needs to be smashed and
the ruling-class needs overthrowing.
N9: Tony Blair and George W Bush need
prosecuting as war criminals.
N10: Comrades need to shout louder on
paper sales.89
Precisely
which of the above senses of "need" these two comrades intended is unclear --
several of them relate to what can only be called felt needs, or
conscious needs (e.g., N4, and possibly N2), expressed perhaps as part of an
agent's aims, goals and intentions. Others refer to the causal concomitants or
prerequisites of a flourishing organism, successful revolution, strike,
comeuppance for Bush and Blair, a paper sale, or a well-run engine -- all of
which are largely, if not totally,
unfelt. Some, of course, can't be felt.
Nevertheless, it is patently obvious that human beings couldn't have
invented language as a result of a felt
"need to communicate" (unless, that is, we assume they could think before
they developed language -- which idea would naturally imply that thought
isn't a
social phenomenon, dependent on collective labour), since such a need
would presuppose the very thing it was aimed at explaining. The idea that
this type of necessity mothered
that sort of invention would imply that the first human beings to talk had
earlier formed the thought: "I/We need to communicate" (or something
equivalent in their
assumed
proto-language). Clearly, such a felt need to communicate could only
be expressed if language already existed. On the other hand, if the
thought (or its equivalent) that supposedly motivated the "need to
communicate" wasn't in fact linguistic, then little content can be given
to the notion that human beings once possessed such a need without being able to
give voice to it. Indeed, how would it be possible to form the thought "We need
to communicate" if the individual, or individuals, concerned had no idea (as
yet) what communication
was. That would be like arguing that we can (now) form the thought "We need to
schommunicate" when none of has a clue what "schommunicate" means. In fact, it
is worse than this, since we are already sophisticated language users and can
not only conceive of certain possibilities we can give expression to them.
They weren't.
It could be
objected that such a need might be a biological one (analogous to that
which is expressed in, say, N5). There are two problems with this response.
First, reference to the biological needs of organisms to explain the
origin of adaptation is Lamarckian, not Darwinian. Secondly, and far
worse, this alternative completely undermines the view that language is a social
phenomenon.89a
In reply to
this it could be argued that revolutionaries have in fact given a
Darwinian (but not Lamarckian) explanation of the origin of language. A
relatively recent article written by
Chris Harman,
for example, demonstrated that such an account of human development -- augmented
with ideas drawn from Engels's work -- provides Marxists with an adequate,
materialist theory of the origin of language and culture, and one that
was founded on a "need to communicate".89b
Unfortunately, there are serious problems with Harman's explanation of the
origins of speech. For example, after outlining the increasing dependence that
our human ancestors had on social organisation and the use of tools, he argued
as follows:
"Natural selection would bring about…evolution
in the direction of ever larger, denser and more complex neural networks,
capable of directing and learning from intricate motor functions of the hand and
of using minute changes in gesture or voice to communicate….
"A cumulative process would soon have
been underway in which survival depended on culture, and the ability to partake
in culture [based?] upon a genetic endowment that encouraged the combination
of sociability, communication, dexterity and reasoning power….
"The development of labour and the
development of communication thus, necessarily, go hand in hand. And as they
both develop, they both encourage the selection of those new genes which made
people more adept at both: the more agile the hand, the larger the brain,
the [larger the] larynx that made a wider range of sounds.
"Such developments do not involve just
quantitative changes. As the growth of labour, the growth of sociability and
the growth of language reinforced each other, encouraging the selection of a
whole range of new genes, new networks of nerve cells would emerge in the brain,
making possible whole new ranges of interaction between people and the world
around them….
"So there has to be a recognition of how
quantity turns into quality, of how through successive changes animal life
gave birth to that new form of life we call 'human', which has a dynamic of its
own, shaped by its labour and its culture not by its genes…." [Harman
(1994), pp.100-02. Bold emphases added.]
There are
several highly dubious things Harman says here about which I will comment later,
but for present purposes I will simply draw attention to his use of
DM to defend, or buttress, his argument. It is abundantly clear that Harman
relies heavily on Engels's first 'Law' (i.e., Q«Q)
to plug a gap he thinks he has spotted in standard Neo-Darwinian theory in this
area.89c
This allows him to smuggle into his own account an inappropriate but revealing
teleological
slant (indicated by most of the words and phrases highlighted in bold in the
above passage). Of course, it could be argued in his defence that these
supposedly "teleological" expressions are metaphorical, or they are merely
rhetorical flourishes; but if that is the case, and they are replaced by more
'neutral' terms, Harman's account falls apart alarmingly quickly. Why that is so
will now be explained.
The problem
with the highlighted parts of the above passage is that they suggest that
evolution has a goal, one that has already been decidedupon
by the operation of Engels's first 'Law' -- i.e., when the latter has been
coupled with natural selection. In order to see this, compare it with a similar
but far less complicated example: the formation of ice or steam. Just as a
sufficient quantity of heat will change water into steam, Harman's use of this
'Law' suggests that the accumulation of small quantitative changes (in the
genetic code, the development of the
CNS, social organisation, etc., etc.) would
automatically produce 'consciousness' and culture.90
Given Q«Q,
and the water/steam analogy, the outcome of evolution appears to have
been written into the fabric of the universe from the very beginning (that is,
it was stitched into the laws that apparently govern everything -- laws which
clearly include Engels's Q«Q).
That is why Harman's account makes it seem as if this 'Law' -- which also
'determines' the inevitability of water boiling when heated sufficiently -- must
have 'determined' the ineluctable development of language and thought.
Apparently, so this story seems to go, gradual increases in the complexity of
the
CNS (etc.), linked to,
and emergent from, the development of collective labour, guaranteed that
'thought' would 'emerge' at some point in the life of our ancestors, as
quantitative changes in their biological makeup and social organisation "passed
over" into qualitative changes in their 'minds' (etc.). This is the only
explanation there can be for Harman's cavalier use of words like: "natural
selection would bring about", and "they both encourage", which clearly suggest
agency
in nature. Otherwise, why use
such terms?91
It could be
objected to this that: (i) DM-theorists
don't claim that such developments were/are "determined", or that there
is anything inevitable about the whole process, and that (ii)
DM-theorists insist there is a dialectical interplay between an evolving
organism (or population of organisms) and its environment -- leading, in this
particular case, to the development of 'consciousness' and language.
The second
of these volunteered responses (i.e., (ii)) is by now well-worn, even
threadbare. When faced with what others see as a genuine problem in their
theory, dialecticians almost invariably refer us to the "dialectical interplay"
between this or that object or process, neglecting to give the details.
Naturally, this works for them as a handy 'get-out-of-a-theoretical-hole-free'
card, in ways reminiscent of the use of the word "miracle" in 'Creation
Science', which is no less dishonest for all that.92
In support
of (i) above it could be argued that the development of language was in fact
dependent on countless contingent events, so it can't have been
inevitable, contrary to an earlier allegation. Now, this would have been an
effective response had Harman himself not already holed it well below the
waterline with the following comment:
"…[I]n fact, everything is not 'contingent'. In certain conditions, both in the
biological world and in history, certain things are likely to happen…." [Harman
(1994), p188, n.73.]
With the
best will in the world, it isn't easy to see how Harman's rejection of
universal contingency could in any way be supported by his claim that
some events "are likely to happen", since part of what we mean when we
use the word "contingent" is that the events so described are "likely to happen"
(or otherwise, as circumstances dictate), not that they must occur and are
hence "inevitable".
Contingent events are those that are neither necessary nor
impossible; so they range from the highly unlikely to the highly likely. In that
case, anything that is "likely to happen" already counts as contingent! Exactly
how the above words substantiate Harman's
rejection
of contingency is, therefore, something of a mystery. If so, his use of terms
that are practically synonymous with "contingency" doesn't in any way help the
reader understand how his dismissal of contingency can succeed. Indeed, if
"everything is not contingent", then some things must be necessary, and therefore 'determined'!92a
In fact,
Harman needs a "must happen" here to
counterpose his rejection of contingency -- i.e., something like the
following:
"...[E]verything is not 'contingent'. In
certain conditions, both in the biological world and in history, certain things
must happen." [Harman (1994), p.188, n.73, deliberately misquoted!]
Admittedly,
the inclusion of that particular phrase comes with a price tag attached: the use
of "must" would expose the teleological nature of the whole argument. This modal
qualifier ("must") clearly implies the operation of some sort of will,
direction, intelligence, logical consequence, necessity or purpose in nature.
Hence, the open presence of this sort of claim:
C1: Natural selection must in the long
run bring about language and consciousness,
would be a
dead give-away. Even though Harman evidently requires (and clearly assumes) the
truth of C1, it is obvious that he couldn't risk using a "must" here for fear of
undermining Darwinism -- which, by the way, many still
think removed teleology from nature, or at least from our depiction of it,
when the opposite is the case.93
In the end, what Harman actually opts for is much stronger than a mere "will
happen". However, the problem is that since he has already denied contingency in
the above passage, he, for one, can't assert that language developed as
the result of a series of contingent events, without contradicting himself.
In fact, as
was asserted above, Harman's rejection of contingency harmonises almost
seamlessly with the necessitating force underlying Engels's first 'Law'
(i.e., Q«Q).
So, just as water
has no 'choice' but to turn into steam at 100oC
(this change is entirely 'determined' by antecedent events, or so the story
goes), similar concomitants must have necessitated the origin of
language (even if they are more 'dialectically' complex, in this case). Harman
might not like to use such words himself, but they are nonetheless an apt
summary of his position.94
In order to
confirm the accuracy of this 'revisionary' interpretation of Harman's reasoning,
we need look no further than several other things he says. Near the beginning of
his article, we find this dismissal of the many "just
so" stories that supposedly litter Neo-Darwinian writings (an epithet Harman
clearly borrowed from
Stephen
Jay Gould):
"The sparsity of reliable information makes it very easy for people to make
elaborate, unsubstantiated conjectures about what might have happened, with no
facts to confirm or deny them -- the modern version of the 'Just
so' stories
Rudyard
Kipling
wrote for children nearly a century ago. All sorts of writers on human evolution
make hypotheses of the form, 'And, so, perhaps, we can explain the descent of
certain apes from the trees by their need to do X'. Within a couple of
paragraphs, the 'perhaps' has gone, and X becomes the origin of humanity.
But, unless
there has been a misprint here, Harman's rejection of these "likely stories"
(which were, and often still are, triggered by an appeal to what researchers
perceive to be the needs
of organisms, even if that is hidden beneath several layers of inappropriate
metaphor and analogy; more on this
below) -- his rejection must also count as a repudiation of Engels's appeal
to the "need to communicate". In a pre-linguistic group, the assertion that
there was a felt "need to communicate", which led to the development of
language, would itself be just another "just so story", but with added DM-spin.
On the other hand, if the said need weren't a felt need, it would
represent a damaging concession to
Lamarckism.96
However,
even if this weren't the case, Harman is fooling himself if he thinks that
sophisticated Neo-Darwinians and sociobiologists attempt to explain the
development of life in such crude quasi-Lamarckian terms. Little wonder then
that he quoted so few references in support of this allegation.97
If Marxists
are to confront successfully the arguments of knowledgeable
Sociobiologists and
Evolutionary Psychologists, something far less
insubstantial than Engels's first 'Law' will need to be wheeled out of
the Dialectical Dungeon. Unfortunately, this 'Law' seems to be the only 'solid'
premise Harman has available to him to prevent his ideas sliding back into (at
least) this area of the crude sociobiologist camp (with its own "just so" tales
--
Gottlieb (2012)) -- the idea that distinctly human behaviour traits somehow
"emerged" against a background of increasing material complexity, but which
can't be reduced to it, being one such. [More on this in Essay Three Parts Three
and Five (not yet published).]
Ironically
then, because Harman buttressed his account of human origins with his own
"just-as-Hegel-and-Engels-say-so-story", he ended up tail-ending the fabulous
tales concocted by sociobiologists, which he also rightly castigated. To
compound matters, Harman pointedly failed to substantiate this part of
his story with any evidence of note (nor did he address the fatal weaknesses
that afflict Engels's shaky Q«Q
'Law' -- detailed in Essay Seven
Part One).
We can see
this more clearly if we examine how Harman justified the following 'leap' in his
argument:
"Only if you see things in this way
can you explain why our species was already endowed with the capacities 35,000
years ago to develop a whole new range of technologies." [Harman
(1994), p.100. Bold emphasis added.]
Apart from a
dire warning that the consequence of not seeing "things in this way"
risks slipping Marxist theory back into an idealist, "postmodernist",
mechanical-materialist and/or sociobiological swamp, this is all Harman
had to offer in support of his own distinct DM-ideas.
Now, while
the
Dennetts,
Cronins,
Pinkers,
and
Dawkins
of this world mightn't object to much of the secondary evidence Harman
marshalled in support of his account of human origins, they would
surely take exception to the use to which he puts it. This evidence
is in fact consistent with much of what those theorists would argue anyway (particularly
all that material about genes). However, Harman presents us with no new facts
from Psychology, Anthropology, Anatomy, Physiology, Linguistics, or any other
branch of science, for that matter, to substantiate his own "just so story" --
that 'consciousness' is an "emergent property" of matter.97a
Or, indeed, that there is such a thing as 'consciousness' to begin with
(so that it is capable of "emerging" from anywhere -- on that, see
Note 65). Or, that there are
such things as "emergent properties" (that aren't themselves dependent on a
quirky misuse of language, or,
which are based on speculative forms of science fiction). Or,
that language itself is genetically-based.
Or, that Darwinian change can account for it. Or even that DM has
anything useful to add to our knowledge in this area -- or, indeed,
anywhere else,
for that matter.
So, if
Harman is to be believed, the only thing that dialecticians can offer in order
to counter theories that are inimical to Dialectical Marxism (in this respect,
at least) is a way of "seeing things" -- albeit augmented by the convenient
ability DM-fans have of being able to "grasp"
a-contradiction-a-day (mentioned
earlier), "emergent" no doubt from the quantitative repetition of
Engels's rather shaky first 'Law'.
Now, any
response to the above that is itself based on a
further appeal to Engels's first 'Law' would be to no avail. That 'Law'
can't bear the weight constantly put upon it by DM-theorists; it is certainly
incapable of countering the detailed arguments that sophisticated
sociobiologists have constructed in support their own ideas. Waving it about as
some sort of talisman does Marxism no favours -- especially when we discover
that this 'Law' is fundamentally
flawed, to begin with.
The harsh
words Harman reserved for
Chris Knight (a reference to whose work provided the only support for
his contention that sociobiologists depend on "just so stories") -- whether
deserved or not -- might well now be flipped over and directed back at his own
account: by resting the whole credibility of this area of Marxism on such
wafer-thin foundations, he invites not just disbelief, but easy
refutation.
If you are
going to take on sophisticated anti-Marxist theories with little more than an
appeal to Engels's first 'Law', and a hope others will "see things" your
way, all the while lambasting them for their reliance on myth, story and fable,
excoriating them for their lack of corroborating evidence, deprecating the
supposed reactionary consequences of their ideas, speculating about how they
simply reflect the "mood of the times", it isn't a good idea to do so with an
account that is contradiction-friendly itself, overtly Lamarckian,
supported by little or no evidence, remarkably badly-stated and reliant on a few
fairy-tales of its own.
The wise course of action here would be
to admit that we just do not know how language developed, and neither does
anyone else -- and we will probably never know. But, that doesn't
mean we have to accept
Adaptationist or
Nativist
accounts of its origin just because the majority of theorists apparently
do, and neither should we make the slightest concession to their ideas.
In fact, it is disconcerting to see how many of the latter Harman is prepared to
take on board, adapting to other reactionary Neo-Darwinian ideas in this area
along the way.98
This is despite the fact that such theories have little to recommend them beyond
an excessive of metaphor, tailor-made and ideologically-biased mathematical
models, convoluted teleological
language, and wild extrapolations from an impoverished evidential base.99
"The genesis of language is in human
labour…. Communication is not therefore just one of the functions of language;
on the contrary, language presupposes both logically and de facto the
interaction among people. Language only arises from the need to communicate with
other humans. It is quintessentially social." [Holborow (1999), p.20.]
"Crucially labour…developed within a co-operative and social context. It was
this that led, through the need to communicate while engaging in co-operative
labour, to the rise of the second specifically human attribute -- language."
[Parrington (1997),
p.122.]
Earlier, we
saw that Parrington and Holborow had simply reproduced Engels's comment about
the origin of language, that it arose as a result of a "need to communicate".
Oddly enough, these two failed to quote the following words of Engels's -- a
quirky passage that is often overlooked by those who regard him as a great
philosopher, or even a profound theorist of science:
"Comparison with animals proves that this explanation of the origin of language
from and in the labour process is the only correct one. The little that even the
most highly-developed animals need to communicate to each other does not require
articulate speech. In a state of nature, no animal feels handicapped by its
inability to speak or to understand human speech. It is quite different when it
has been tamed by man. The dog and the horse, by association with man, have
developed such a good ear for articulate speech that they easily understand any
language within their range of concept (sic)…. Anyone who has had much to do
with such animals will hardly be able to escape the conviction that in many
cases they now feel their inability to speak as a defect…. Let no one
object that the parrot does not understand what it says…. [W]ithin the limits of
its range of concepts it can also learn to understand what it is saying. Teach a
parrot swear words in such a way that it gets an idea of their meaning…; tease
it and you will soon discover that it knows how to use its swear words just as
correctly as a Berlin costermonger. The same is true of begging for titbits." [Engels
(1876), pp.356-57.]
Contrary to
what Engels asserts, we shouldn't want to concede that animals understand our
use of language (or, indeed, that they grasp the import of swear words, for
instance) simply
because parrots, for example, can make certain sounds -- or, just because some
humans are a tad too sentimental and believe that their pet dog can "understand
every word they say". If understanding were attributable to animals solely
on the basis of vocalisation, then we might have to admit that, for example, the
ability most of us have of repeating foreign words upon hearing them means that
we too understand the language from whence they came, when quite often we don't.
For example, although I can read both Hebrew and Greek, I actually
understand very few words of either language.
But, even
when we repeat foreign words we don't understand we would still be viewing them
from our standpoint as sophisticated users of our own language, which means that
the dice have already been heavily loaded (so to speak) in our favour. Because
of this, we often make an educated guess concerning the meaning of any new
(foreign) words we might encounter, based on knowledge of our own language.
Moreover, we do this against a background of shared behaviour and a common
culture that links us -- directly or indirectly, closely or remotely -- with all
other human beings. The same can't be said of parrots, dogs and horses.
We should, I
think, only want to count someone (or something) as having understood what is
said if it possessed a sufficiently detailed verbal and behavioural repertoire,
at the very least. If, for example, such a 'proto-linguist' couldn't form
new sentences from their 'vocabulary', if they were incapable of forming the
negation of any of their sentences (for example replying "No, it isn't raining"
when told it is raining), or couldn't cope with word-order change, if they were
unable to refer to anything proximate to, or remote from, their immediate
surroundings, if they couldn't identify or specify any of the implications of
what they had said, or of what was said to them, if they were incapable of
reasoning (hypothetically) both with truths and
falsehoods (in the latter case, for example, with an "If that's true, I'm a
monkey's uncle!"), failed to appreciate stories or fiction, if they couldn't
respond to humour, or engage in self-criticism, if they were regularly perplexed
by new sentences they had never encountered before (even those that contained
'words' drawn from their own repertoire), if they couldn't follow or give
instructions, and so on, then I think most of us would have serious doubts about
their capacity to understand the target language.100
On the other
hand, had Engels said the following to one of his parrots: "Swearing isn't
allowed here because it represents the language of oppression" (to paraphrase
Trotsky) -- and the parrot had stopped swearing as a result, or, maybe, had
deliberately sworn even more as a result! -- we might be a little more
impressed with his claims.
Despite
this, Engels's ideas don't seem to hang together even on their own terms.
If language and understanding
are the products of social development (augmented by co-operative
labour), then they most certainly do not hang together. Indeed,
Engels even says:
"Comparison with animals proves that
this explanation of the origin of language from and in the labour process is the
only correct one.... First labour, after it and then with it speech -- these
were the two most essential stimuli under the influence of which the brain of
the ape gradually changed into that of man...."
[Engels (1876),
pp.356-57. Paragraphs merged.]
If so,at a minimum, how could an
animal comprehend our speech without also having gone through the same social
development and engaged in the same sort of collective labour with human beings?
It could be
argued that animals have, and still do work alongside human
beings. Think of the phrase "work horse", or the use to which dogs are put in
guarding, sledging, hunting and the herding of sheep, to say nothing of the work
done by oxen, donkeys, camels and pigeons, to name but a few. However, without
wishing to minimise the use human beings have made of animal labour (etc.), this
hardly counts as collective labour (any more than the use of some wood in
a building counts as collective labour contributed by a tree); it more
closely resembles the use of living tools. The differences between human
and animal labour don't need to be itemised to see that this line-of-defence
won't work. Which Marxist wants to argue that an ox, for example, shows any
desire to communicate, or that a donkey or a pigeon shows any sign it wants to
verbalise its aims and intentions? But, if their efforts counted as
collective labour, we should be prepared to argue that these animals do
indeed show signs of a "need to communicate".
Moreover,
Engels appears to think (somewhat inconsistently) that mere proximity to
human beings is sufficient to engender (in certain animals) the "need to
communicate". If this were so, then manifestly an ability to use language can't
have been the result of collective labour. Surely, in humans (on Engels's own
admission) the "need to communicate" arose out of collective labour, not from
mere association. By way of contrast, in the passage above, Engels seems to
think that this "need to communicate" is a free-floating force when it comes
to animal behaviour,
which can somehow be divorced from its connection with cooperative human labour,
and hence is capable of crossing the species boundary. This explains why he also
appears to believe that mere association with human beings is able to
create such a "need" in these animals, too. To be sure, the behaviour of
domestic animals is different from the behaviour of animals belonging to the
same (or similar) species in the wild, but if mere proximity to human
beings could account for language, then we should expect cats, cows, donkeys,
camels, oxen, sheep, goats, rats, mice, gerbils, fleas, lice and bacteria to be
able to communicate with us, or with one another (to say nothing of viruses).101
Conversely, if animals were able to talk
or understand us then language can't be a
social phenomenon, or the result of co-operative labour. It looks,
therefore, that Parrington, Holborow and Harman (among others) have ignored this
glaring inconsistency in Engels's account.
However, in
wanting to deny that there is a significant gulf between humans and our closest
relatives among the Apes, or Ape-like ancestors, Engels and Harman were clearly
laying a foundation for their own theory of descent -- i.e., a theory based on
the idea that a change in quantity leads to a change in quality
(and vice versa).101a
In order for
this 'Law' to work, DM-theorists would have to argue that the important
differences
between human beings and certain animals is merely quantitative -- even
if it is finally expressed qualitatively via this 'Law'. On this view,
the gap between ancient humanoids and apes (or our common ancestors), say, would
be somewhat analogous to that between two closely related elements in the
Periodic Table
(except, of course, with respect to evolutionary descent, the situation is far
more complex). So, given this analogy, when one chemical element supposedly
acquires a few more elementary particles, "qualitatively" new properties
automatically arise in the elements so formed. The latter could then be said to
"emerge" from the former as the increased complexity exceeds a certain "nodal
point".
[However, as
we saw in Essay Seven
Part One, this
'Law'
doesn't even apply to the elements in the Periodic Table, which removes one
of the best and most over-used 'illustrations' of this 'Law' that DM-fans' have
in their box of tricks.]
Indeed, a
belief in the continuity of nature seems to require a similar commitment to the
idea that there is some sort of 'dialectical connection' between, say, our
ape-like ancestor (or proto-human, or humanoid, group, before the
development of language, etc.) and modern human beings (after language had been
acquired). The idea appears to be that even though apes are biologically close
to us, the gradual increase in our ancestors' social and physical evolution in
the end led to the development of the profound qualitative differences between
humans and the aforementioned ancestors, culminating in the 'emergence' of
'consciousness' and language, etc. Hence, Engels's claim that certain animals
are capable of understanding language looks as if it lends support to the belief
that some sort of continuity exists between modern humans and our ape-like past,
mediated by subsequent material and social progress.
This
seems to be the
only conceivable reason why Engels alluded to parrots, dogs and horses in
this way.
The only problem is that he left out the
Apes!
Plainly,
Engels chose the wrong animals to illustrate his point (if this was
his point). As should seem obvious, no sane biologist would want to argue that
we are biologically closer to parrots, dogs and horses than we are to the Apes.
Even worse, the latter aren't
widely known for their verbal skills (unlike parrots); in fact, they are
quite
incapable of vocalising words. And yet, if the view outlined above were
correct, we should find Apes vastly exceeding the 'linguistic' production of
parrots. Hence, the "qualitative change" that is supposed to have "emerged" as a
result of increased "quantitative" evolutionary development must, it seems, have
taken an unplanned "qualitative" detour
via birds, horses and dogs, outflanking our nearest relatives the Apes! Clearly,
this means that "quantity" doesn't in fact "pass over" into "quality",
but skips it sometimes, or shimmies past it. Either that, or it indicates that
parrots and
other birds
(the Hill Myna,
for example), as well as dogs and horses, somehow managed to defy this
dialectical 'Law' --, or, indeed, (if we absolutely insist on clinging to
this part of DM come what may), that these species are evolutionarily
closer to us than the Apes!
Comrades are
oddly silent on this issue.102
They are, however, free to "grasp"
what little comfort they can from it.
Even though
the nature of primate 'language' (and the question whether it is only those
animals that possess 'language' which are capable of 'thought') will not be
entered into here in any detail, a few comments are clearly in order.103
A close
reading of the writings of those involved in research into animal 'language'
reveals that rather too many authors conflate several different senses of the
word "communicate", and it is
this that makes some of their conclusions seem initially plausible.
Indeed, as seems plain, these theorists find they have to
anthropomorphise the noises and signals animals make in order to get this
part of their story off the ground. The rest of the picture is then sold to us
by the by-now-familiar ploy of using ordinary words in odd ways in order to
sanction these seemingly innovative conclusions, the entire ensemble further
motivated by the use of inappropriate metaphors,
'educated' guesses and no little sentimentality.104
The word
"communicate" can, of course, mean anything from "to connect" (as in
"communicating door"), to "to convey information", "to achieve mutual
understanding", "to share thoughts and feelings", and "to bond socially" -- and,
of course, simply "to converse". Naturally, certain senses of this word are
closely linked to our nature as social and political agents. While animals
appear to be able to 'communicate' by means of various calls, gestures, signs,
smells and noises, calling this "communication" in any of the above senses is
clearly prejudicial. In fact, it is hardly more illuminating than the claim that
since certain rooms are connected by communicating doors, rooms can signal to
one another and share thoughts via the said door! Even less persuasive is the
idea that the mere presence of signs indicates the presence of thought --
unless, that is, we are also prepared to concede that the weather can think,
too, since thunder is often a sign of rain. Again, the careless (if not,
thoughtless) misinterpretation of the figurative use of language to depict
animal 'communication' has misled many of those working in this area.105
Moreover,
our comprehension of animal 'sign' systems is neither helped nor advanced by an
egregious distortion/misinterpretation of the conventional, logical and social
features of our own language.
Nevertheless, one thing is reasonably clear: in the absence of human
intervention (that is, without socially-structured input from us),
primate 'communication', for example, would be seriously limited. Manifestly, it
is we who train apes to respond to us, not the other way round -- the
same can be said of parrots and other conversationally-challenged animals.
Even this limited concession indicates that linguistic ability is socially-, not
genetically-based.106
Naturally, this brings us to a
contentious issue mentioned earlier: whether language is a social or a 'genetic'
phenomenon. As pointed out above, the danger with the strategy Engels adopted is
that it actually undermines belief in the social nature of language.107
It also deflects, and even silences, the hostility revolutionaries have
generally shown toward biologically reductive
theories of humanity -- for instance, those promoted by
Social
Darwinists,
Ethologists,
Sociobiologists, "Evolutionary
Psychologists", and, of course, by
fascist/Nazi pseudo-scientists.107a
This might help explain why we find prominent revolutionaries endorsing
opinions that are compatible with the very worst forms of biological and
genetic determinism. Hence, we have comrades like
Alex
Callinicos heaping praise on
Daniel
Dennett's reactionary work (and in the pages of International
Socialism, for goodness sake!), joining forces with an attack on
Stephen
Jay Gould, all the while referring to
Pinker's
fashionable (but nonetheless regressive) book on language -- and maintaining
this line even when these serious lapses were pointed out to him.108
In addition, we find comrades like Chris Harman endorsing Chomsky's
Nativist theory of language -- also beloved of characters like Pinker109
-- referring his readers to
the work of a prominent sociobiologist to support his case against Gould!110
With such a
display of 'socialist thought', what remains of the implacable opposition
revolutionaries have generally shown toward racism, sexism and elitism? To be
sure, the above comrades rightly abhor the use of Darwin's ideas to justify each
and every such regressive doctrine (as, for example, Harman does in
Harman (1994), pp.88-90, and n.39, p.186); indeed, they regularly remind us
of their total opposition to such 'intellectual' aberrations. However, other
things they say only succeed in undermining that otherwise laudable stance --
i.e., by adopting (or by being sympathetic toward) the ideas of reactionary
authors such as those mentioned above.
Without
doubt, ideas drawn from DM have seriously compromised their collective
commitment to HM. Plainly, more than a few comrades have made unwise concessions
to ideologically-motivated theories based on extreme forms of Neo-Darwinism.
Once again, this is no surprise since the concepts that litter DM also enjoy an
impeccable ruling-class pedigree.
[HM = Historical
Materialism/Materialist; CNS = Central Nervous System.]
Ideological
compromise like this is the natural bed-fellow of one or more of the following:
(1)
Metaphysical theories of mind aimed at 'solving' a series of pseudo-problems,
which werethemselves motivated by the ancient idea that each individual
(or, rather, each shadowy alter ego inside every skull --, i.e., the 'soul', or,
these days, 'intelligent' algorithms, aka 'consciousness') can be viewed as a
socially-isolated unit that invents (or rather, re-invents) its own
idiosyncratic language, which possesses its own private meaning, acting just
like the
Possessive Individual
of bourgeois lore -- a fable concocted by such early modern philosophers as
Descartes,
Hobbes
and Locke.
(2) The idea
that language is based on an internal grammar genetically-programmed into the
CNS, which means it is independent of social forces, social development and
cooperative labour. [In its modern form, this theory was invented by bourgeois
rationalists (Descartes and
Leibniz),
but has been made 'respectable' these days by Noam Chomsky.]
(3) The
adoption of representational theories of mind, language and knowledge -- a
family of doctrines that stretches right back to Ancient Greece.
The
acceptance by DM-theorists of one or more of the above anti-communitarian
notions means it is hardly surprising they can't actually explain language and
'consciousness', which means they have also failed to account for the connection
either of the latter has with our social development. Because of this,
DM-theorists find they have to refer to Engels's dubious 'First Law' to
account for the supposed "emergence" of this mysterious entity, 'consciousness',
from increasingly complex forms and organisations of matter -- not pausing for
one second to notice that this way of viewing the issues involved only becomes
viable if our individual and social characteristics are projected back onto
nature -- which is then 'mirrored in each head', individualistically -- in order
to try to sell this idea both to themselves and the rest of us. [Elsewhere this
approach has been called the RRT.]
[RRT
= Reverse Reflection Theory (which is perhaps better described as the
Projection
Theory of 'Knowledge'). Basically, the idea is that, given DM, language and
'mind' do not in fact 'reflect reality' (as its proponents maintain). The
reverse is the case. 'Reality' is
deliberately structured so that it conforms with how DM-theorists think we
cognise it;it is therebymade to
reflect the contingent features of how they think we think or think we talk (or,
indeed, how they think we should talk!).
So, discourse doesn't reflect the world, the world is made to conform with
how 'dialectical jargon' tries to picture it. Language and meaning are
thereby projected
onto the world. Hence, the ersatz 'reality' that results from this
'reverse-reflection' (this projection) is little more than a shadow cast on the
world by a systematic distortion of language, to
paraphrase Wittgenstein
(and Marx). The RRT
is therefore intimately connected (via Hegel and other mystics) with ancient
theories about the origin of the world via speech, a universe created by
the Logos (as illustrated in The Book of Genesis) -- a topic
covered
here and in Essay Three
Part One. The world is therefore depicted as ultimately discursive;
it is both a product
of
language and constituted by language. For those who prefer this way of
'doing philosophy' (i.e., dogmatically, treating it as a sort of
Super-Science), it seems 'perfectly natural and legitimate' to impose linguistic
categories on the world, in a 'like-reflects-like' sort of way. These are just
two sides of the same coin: the world is ultimately linguistic so philosophical
theories may be imposed on it, dogmatically. Unsurprisingly, dialecticians
bought into this approach when they began to take philosophical and logical
advice from a Christian Mystic (upside down or the 'right way up'). (See also
Note 19 of Essay Three
Part Two.
Until Essay Twelve Part Four has
been published (where this will be dealt with in greater detail) readers are
also re-directed
here
and
here.)]
This only
succeeds in compromising 'dialectical theories of mind and language', since
Dialectical Marxists are now forced to concede ground to reactionary
Adaptationist and Geneticist models of the origins of one or both of the latter,
as well as give ground to ruling-class representational theories, into the
bargain. Once more, DM forces its adherents to compromise their commitment to HM
and thereby play into the hands of ideologues of the class enemy. That also
explains why each of the comrades mentioned above becomes uncharacteristically
vague, evasive and defensive when trying to explain how:
(i) Social
development could conceivably find itself represented in, or be imprinted upon,
our genes: or, conversely, how,
(ii) Genetic
change could possibly affect co-ordinated social behaviour across the
whole of humanity.
But, if the
first alternative is impossible to achieve (as seems to be the case), then the
development of language can't be accounted for in Darwinian terms. If, on the
other hand, the second option is non-viable (as it must be if language is, so we
are told, "innate", and genetically 'programmed' into each brain), Linguistics
can't be reconciled with Marxism.
The
following material is therefore aimed at countering the responses DM-theorists
tend to offer in relation to (i) and (ii) above -- at the same time as
undermining key ideas Chomsky has thrown into the mix.
At this
point it could be objected that Harman did in fact outline a plausible,
explanation of the origin of language, culture and thought based on sound
Darwinian principles, which is also consistent with DM, in the article discussed
earlier. Nevertheless, as we will soon see, and despite what Harman himself
says, his approach suggests that the origin of language was in fact an abrupt,
semi-miraculous
event, somewhat reminiscent of the way that ecstatic
Pentecostals
suddenly begin "speaking in tongues" (i.e.,
Glossolalia).
[More on that presently.]
However,
returning to Harman's theory, when the relevant sections of his article are
examined, it soon becomes apparent that it contains what can only be described
as a perfunctory gesture at providing a DM-account of the origin of
language -- and, once more, one that was 'substantiated' by several of his own
"just so" stories.
Harman's earlier theory -- as we
will see, he appears to have changed his mind -- was based largely on Engels's
The Part Played by Labour in the Transition from Ape to Man, and The
Origin of Private Property, the Family and the State
[i.e., Engels (1876, 1891)], updated with more recent work carried out in this
area. Engels saw the move made by our ape-like ancestors from an
arboreal to
a more terrestrial existence as a crucial development which allowed newly
evolving humanoids to free their hands to work with tools, thus facilitating
their progression to more complex social forms and relations. This was
accompanied by parallel developments in tool-making, and therefore of the brain.
That in turn allowed proto-humans to invent language. Central to all of this was
cooperative labour.
Harman continues:
"It is this which also explains the
development of those most peculiarly human attributes, language and
consciousness. The distinctive feature about human language, as opposed to the
sounds and gestures made by other animals, is that we use words to refer to
things and situations that are not actually present in front of us. We use them
to abstract from the reality that confronts us and to describe other realities.
And once we can do this to others, we can also do it to ourselves, using the
'inner speech' that goes on inside our heads to envisage new situations and new
goals. The ability to do these things cannot have arisen at one go. It must
have grown up over many generations as our remote ancestors learnt in practice,
through labour, to abstract from and to change immediate reality -- as they
began to use sounds and gestures not merely to indicate what was immediately in
front of them or what they immediately desired (which is what some animals do)
but to indicate how they wanted to change something and how they wanted others
to help them. In tool use we know there was a significant change from the ape to
the early humans: the ape picks up a stick or stone to use as a tool; the early
humans of 2 million years ago were already not only shaping the stick or stone,
but using other stones to do the shaping, and, undoubtedly, learning from each
other how to do this. This implies not merely conceptions about immediate things
(food stuffs), but about things once removed from immediacy (the tool that can
get the food stuff) and twice removed from immediate reality (the tool that can
shape the tool that gets the food stuff). And it also implies communication,
whether by gesture or sound, about things two stages removed from immediate
conditions -- in effect, the first use of abstract nouns, adjectives and verbs.
The development of labour and the development of communication thus,
necessarily, go hand in hand. And as they both develop, they both encourage the
selection of those new genes which made people more adept at both: the more
agile hand, the larger brain, the larynx that made a wider range of sounds.
"Such developments do not involve just quantitative changes. As the growth of
labour, the growth of sociability and the growth of language reinforced each
other, encouraging the selection of a whole range of new genes, new networks of
nerve cells would emerge in the brain, making possible whole new ranges of
interaction between people and the world around them. This may well explain why
suddenly new species of humans developed that lived alongside and then
superseded those that went before, as with the successive emergence of
homo habilis,
of
homo
erectus, of the various sorts of
archaic human. Thus, it may well be the case that modern humans eventually
replaced the
Neanderthals
because they were able to communicate more quickly and clearly with each other
(although we will probably never know for certain if this was so). So there has
to be a recognition of how quantity turns into quality, of how through
successive changes animal life gave birth to that new form of life we call
'human', which had a dynamic of its own, shaped by its labour and its culture
not by its genes...." [Harman
(1994), pp.101-02. Bold emphases and
links added, several paragraphs merged.]
While much
of the above won't be questioned here (or anywhere else, for that matter), we
have already seen that "inner
speech" is far too vague and fanciful a concept to be of much use. It has
also been shown (in Essay Three Parts
One and
Two) that the idea that
"abstraction" underpins language is no less misguided. We have also
seen that Engels's first 'Law' is no
help in any attempt to understand evolution, or, indeed,
anything whatsoever.
What will
be questioned here, however, is the theory that language is
genetically-based -- which Harman later endorsed in Harman (1999), p.621.
As we are about to remind ourselves, that theory is incompatible with Harman's
earlier stated commitment to the social nature of language.110a
In this
section, some attempt will be made to examine the viability of Harman's 'later
view' of the origin and nature of language:
"The ability to use language is, according to the generally accepted theory of
Noam Chomsky, a genetically determined feature of all modern humans. The
connection between language, abstraction and human consciousness is spelt out in
the books written by the Russian Marxist Voloshinov during the 1920s, and in
part two, Labour, of the
Ontology by the Hungarian Marxist
Georg Lukács."
[Harman (2008), p.621, note 6. Harman has made a slight error here; Labour
is part three of Lukács's work. Bold emphasis added, italic emphases in
the original; link also added.]
At the
outset it should be stressed that the comments below don't pretend to be
an exhaustive critique of the countless theories there are that attempt to
explain the origin of language, nor are they aimed at even a brief survey
of current theory in this area. [Indeed, that would require several books on its
own!] This material is aimed
solely at Harman's comments, and those of Chomsky's, detailed later.111
This, I think, represents a first stab at plausible
scenario depicting the transition from a proto-linguistic community -- which
only uses what we would now call nouns -- to one that uses nouns and what we
would now call verbs:
[1] Imagine, say, a
proto-linguist, NN, at time, t1
(i.e., X thousand years ago), who has in her linguistic repertoire a
limited set of 'words', W1.
Suppose this set contains only 'proto-nouns' used to 'name' things.112
Suppose also that at time, t2
(Y thousand years later) another proto-linguist, MM (who perhaps
belongs to the descendants of the group to which NN belonged), has in her
repertoire a wider set of 'words', W2.
Further, let W2
contain 'nouns'/'proto-nouns' and 'verbs'/'proto-verbs', which are used
to say things. Finally, let MM
be the first to innovate in her group.113
A linguistic
development like this
could be the result of one or more of the following:
(i) A series
of genetic changes in the individual concerned, or in her group;
(ii) A
pattern of cultural development; or,
(iii)
A 'dialectical' combination of (i) and (ii) -- given Harman's theory.
Consider the
first alternative (the third is clearly dependent on the first -- again,
assuming the truth of the theory under consideration -- while the second won't
be open to question here): let us suppose that a gene or set of genes, G1,
is responsible (a) in whole, or (b) in part for this
innovation. Assuming the validity of either of these sub-options, the presence
of G1
would be wholly or partly responsible for the transformation that took the
group(s) to which NN and
MM belong from the use of W1
to the use of
W2
(or which enabled that development to take place).
Again,
consider the first of these two sub-options:
[1a]
Let G1
be wholly responsible for this development. In that case, G1
would clearly enable whoever possessed it (i.e., in this case, MM) to use
the wider repertoire W2.
Unfortunately, however, unless several speakers in their group
simultaneously possessed G1,
MM would have no one to talk to who was capable of understanding her, and
no one from whom she could have learnt this new language, or these new 'words'.
In such circumstances, MM
would be either self-taught, or a spontaneous master of this wider
vocabulary. Neither option is credible, and both undermine the social nature of
language.
Even
supposing MMwere
self-taught (or was a spontaneous master of this proto-language), no one else
would be able to understand her unless the same were true of the rest of the
group. In which case, there would be
no survival value
either for MM, or her group, resulting from this development. As
Christina Behme notes:
"Furthermore, the result of the one-time
Merge mutation would have to have been exceptionably stable (allegedly Merge
did not change from the moment it appeared in one lucky hominid (called by
Chomsky (2005b) Prometheus), some 50,000-100,000years ago), and would have had to result
immediately in massive selectional advantages for Prometheus. According to
Chomsky (2009b,
2014b), it is foolish to speculate about the role of communication
when attempting to account for language evolution. This seems to imply that,
whatever advantage was conferred on Prometheus, he could not have communicated
his novel cognitive powers to other members of the breeding group." [Behme
(2014b), p.677. Referencing conventions altered to conform with those
adopted at this site. It is worth recalling that
Mary Shelley's
novel, Frankenstein, was subtitled The Modern Prometheus. Links
added.]
Of course,
these problems will only be multiplied if, as Chomsky imagines, language --
in its entirety -- appeared
all at once.114
If we now
weaken an earlier restriction placed on this option and suppose that several
members of MM's group possess
G1
(and hence,
W2)
at the same time. Little in fact changes. Whenever it was that G1
first appeared in the population it would have had to have taken place
simultaneously and all at once in more than one speaker, otherwise
the linguistic innovations of one member of the group would be useless, and
would be incapable of being learned or comprehended by others. Hence, unless we
suppose there to have been a simultaneous group mutation, this isn't a
credible scenario, either. Quite apart from the fact that widespread
simultaneous group mutations (of exactly the same sort) aren't
plausible (and, as far as I'm aware, have never been observed in nature), this
option also undermines the idea that language is a social phenomenon.114a0
If true, it would mean that language is neither socially-acquired nor learnt by
group interaction based on cooperative labour. In this particular case, language
couldn't have been taught toMM and all the rest by her/their
parents, relatives or members of her/their local tribe or group. That is because
this proto-language was assumed to have been genetically initiated; hence, ex
hypothesi, MM, or her generation, would have been the very first to
innovate.114a
Even if we
now suppose that there had
been a group mutation of some sort resulting in members MM's linguistic
community allinnovating together, they would all have to
demonstrate roughly comparable expertise with the same novel vocabulary
all at once or they would fail to communicate, once more. [Why that is an
important consideration here is connected with the alleged survival value
of mutations like this, which, if there is no pay-off in this respect, would
be zero.] But, how might this remarkable coincidence have come about? Unless
we suppose that there is a close connection between words and genes -- so that,
for example, where there was a gene (or set of genes), g1,
there would be a word (or set of words),
w1
--, the presence in each individual of the sameunlearnt vocabulary is as difficult to account for as it is implausible.
On the other hand, if this group
mutation was also responsible for simultaneous grammatical (and not just
lexical) innovation, the difficulties become even more formidable. Not only
would the language of such innovators be incomprehensible to non-innovating
parents, relatives and members of the same community (who don't share these
genes), we would be faced with a scenario where these novice innovators would
(as it were) all wake up one morning as
expert speakers in this new tongue.115
They would all demonstrate a
semi-miraculous facility with these new verbs
(never having heard or used them before), knowing (implicitly) that they weren't
nouns -- this remarkable capacity revealed by their use of them as non-nouns,
non-naming words. [I am not
suggesting they were intuitive grammarians, here! I am merely referring to the
novel way they would have to use such 'words'.] Such a scenario might feature in
Hollywood B-movies, but only the most credulous of film buffs would buy it.
It could be
objected to the above that it badly misconceives the origin of language since it
supposes it to have been developed suddenly, which is absurd. The genetic
changes that occurred in our ancestors needn't have been expressed
linguistically at first, but could have developed as a result of other selection
pressures, or random changes.
In that case, let us suppose that G1gradually formed in the said tribe, and further that this gene (or set of
genes) wasn't immediately responsible for these hypothetical linguistic
innovations. Instead, let us surmise that G1
initially assisted in the survival of members of the group in some other (as
yet unknown) way, and was preserved in the gene pool for that reason.116
At some point, of course, the
exaptative
-- or perhaps "pre-adaptive"
-- proto-linguistic properties of G1
would have to have kicked-in, in order for G1
to assume its linguistic role in the target group.
Hence, G1
would have had to become operative in this novel capacity at a future date -- in
response, say, to new selection pressures -- allowing it to take up its
innovative role, assuming functions not necessarily related to those that had
given rise to its original preservation in the gene pool. In that case, although
G1
might appear in a population as a gene (or set of genes) selected for other
reasons, subsequently, it could, under certain circumstances, facilitate the
development of a proto-language. There are many examples of this sort of
pre-adaptation (or exaption) in nature, or so we are told.117
However, as Aitchison points out:
"But this by-product view is highly unlikely, as
language is too complex. Exaptation -- a re-use of an existing structure -- is
undoubtedly a powerful force in evolution. But in all documented cases,
complex structures are used for simple purposes, and not vice versa. A type
of wading bird uses its wings as a sun shade: there is no evidence of any bird
using what was originally a sunshade as wings. You can use a television as a
paperweight, but you can't use a paperweight as a television.
The complexity of language, and the interwoven adaptations of the mouth,
larynx and brain make it unlikely that language developed as an accidental
by-product." [Aitchison (1996), pp.74-75. Bold emphases added.]
Nevertheless, if we ignore for now this unhelpful fact, even given the
revised scenario, we would have to suppose that several members of the group
who possessed G1
would have to innovate linguistically at the same time, and in exactly
the same way, as the pre-adaptive (or exaptative) properties of G1
kicked-in. If this weren't the case, no one would be able to understand anyone
else in that group who began to speak in this novel way. A loneinnovator -- whatever the genetic pre-dispositions of the group
happened to be, and howsoever quickly or slowly they became manifest --
would suddenly find themselves uttering strange unrecognisable sounds --
somewhat like the aforementioned ecstatic
Pentecostals -- to a group of bemused onlookers. This still fails to be a
credible picture.117a
Even so, as
noted above, the idea that all or most of those possessing
G1
would innovate together is no less implausible. But, even if they had
innovated together, an entire throng of 'talkers' would face each other, not
as lone a Pentecostal ecstatic, but as a dissonant gaggle of babblers
all suddenly barking strange noises at one another.
Of course,
the possession of a new set of words (or noises, as these will have initially
presented themselves) doesn't imply that the individual (or individuals)
concerned knew how to use them. Compare that with those who hear foreign words
now. Do they know how to use a strange vocabulary upon hearing it? But, they
alreadyhave
a language, unlike these proto-linguists.
Even worse,
there would be no one in this proto-linguistic community who could assist or
guide them in this respect -- unlike today, when novel or even foreign words are
first encountered. Moreover, the possession of rules for the use of such terms,
which failed to specify what was or what was not their correct application,
would, naturally, imply that they weren't rules to begin with.117a0
Furthermore,
members of this group of innovators would either have been (a) Born with this
gene (or set of genes) already in place, or they would have (b) Acquired it/them
as a result of a mutation later in life. Either way, plainly, they wouldn't have
been taught, or socialised into, this new proto-language by their
parents, siblings or carers,118
even though we are now to suppose that they could
all use this new tongue in the same way, with the same
grammar and vocabulary, and would all comprehend one another in the same
way, at the same time, right from the get-go. We have to suppose that all this,
or something like it, did in fact take place otherwise an appeal to biological,
genetic or physiological principles to account for linguistic innovation would
be an empty gesture.118a
That being
so, none of these pre-historic, novice innovators would need to be schooled by
anyone in the proper use of their new
vocabulary with its novel grammar; the employment of these ground-breaking
linguistic abilities would spring forth in each individual spontaneously,
and all in the same way, at the same time. And, we would have to
suppose this were so no matter how basic or rudimentary this extension to the
old 'dialect' (of 'nouns') proved to be, or how gradually it was introduced.
Every party to these new social norms should have to innovate together at
roughly the same rate (or the proposed links with the biological origins of
linguistic novelty would begin to weaken, once more) --, even though, as they
proceeded to do this, they would fail to comprehend each other's new sounds,
words, or grammar. [Why that is so will be explained presently.]
Hence,
these innovations would still be useless,
and wouldn't be preserved.
Moreover, if
we examine the original postulate, these innovations were said to be of a
specific sort.
Earlier it was hypothesised that
there once was:
...a proto-linguist, NN, at time,
t1
(i.e., X thousand years ago), who has in her linguistic repertoire a
limited set of 'words', W1.
Suppose this set contains only 'proto-nouns' used to 'name' things. Suppose also
that at time, t2
(Y thousand years later) another proto-linguist, MM (who perhaps
belongs to the descendants of the group to which NN belonged), has in her
repertoire a wider set of 'words', W2.
Further, let W2
contain 'nouns'/'proto-nouns' and 'verbs'/'proto-verbs', which are used
to say things. Finally, let MM be the first to innovate in her
group.
The question
is: How would a member of
MM's group recognise a verb asa verb if they had never heard,
used or encountered one before, let alone know from then on how to use one?
Since we are dealing with
human beings (or proto-humans) here, not gene-driven automata,
this consideration is no meredetail. Naturally, we should only
want to say that such proto-linguists were using verbs if they employed them
in the same way that we now use them to form, for example, indicative
sentences (among other things). And how might they have done that if they don't
yet know (in practice, not in theory!) the difference between these two
grammatical forms -- that is, between nouns and verbs? If they don't in fact
appreciate this difference (once more, in practice, not in theory), what
justification is there for us now saying that they must have understood
what they were communicating, or even that they knew how to go about doing
it? What possible reason could there be for concluding that a new noise
uttered (or employed in a novel way) for the very first time in history is
indeed a verb if it wasn't then used, even in a rudimentary way, as we use
verbs today? In fact, if there is no good reason to so suppose, then this
science fiction account of the origin of speech can't even get off the
ground.
Of course,
as noted above, the innovators involved in this scenario needn't have
consciously grasped the import of what they were doing, nor need they have
had any idea at all about grammar (and, in this case, plainly, they
couldn't possess such knowledge). But, in practice, if they couldn't
use these new forms in the way that we now do, even if only in a highly
simplified form, there is no good reason to characterise their innovative sounds
as part of this novel grammatical category, i.e., as verbs. And since we
are now trying to theorise about the steps that might have led up to the
invention of language by human beings (and, once more,
if we
avoid deliberating over the introduction of a new set of noises produced by
automata), we have no other way of conceptualising this series of moves.
Hence, given what
we currently mean by the use of verbs, we now have no good reason to
suppose that such innovators could use these new forms -- but onlyif the process of innovation is
characterised in this way.119
[Why that is
so was explained earlier; more
details are given below.]
On the other hand, even if these
innovative moves were plausible, radical developments like this couldn't
facilitate communication. Members of this pre-historic band of novice
innovators would confront each other with sounds they wouldn't recognise; nor
would they know what to do with them. Recall that at some point in history they
would be thevery first
individuals on the planet to use language in this new way. In that case, they
would comprehend one another no better than ecstatic Pentecostals do now.120
Simply mumbling, or barking, sounds at other members of the group doesn't amount
to communication.
[On that, see Note 117a0 and
Note 118a.]
The
temptation to suppose otherwise -- i.e., that one or more of the above scenarios
presents a credible picture of how communication could have arisen -- might be
motivated by the fact that we are trying to imagine what life was like
withoutlanguage, when, of course, we are forced to do so from our
perspective as sophisticated language users already. As should seem obvious,
even
historical
linguists and evolutionary scientists are
heavily biased
in this respect, using analogies drawn from theway we communicate and
innovate at present to draw conclusions about how something far more challenging
took place hundreds of thousands of years ago under far from optimal
circumstances.
That is, of course, why such theorists find they constantly have to use
neologisms, figurative language, and 'scare quote' encrusted words in order to
sell their ideas.120a
Clearly, these two scenarios aren't at
all comparable; how we innovate today bears no comparison to how
proto-linguists once did this. Hence, we are in no position to form a clear
picture of what it was like for human beings
before language was invented (any more than we can now put ourselves in
the 'mind' of an ape or an ape-like ancestor of ours). Anyone attempting so
to do would be forced to
employ the very thing we are now trying to imagine we were once without
(i.e., language), applying it in situationswhere there was no
language at all -- or, at best a very rudimentary signalling system. It
isn't as if language is an afterthought, a dispensable, insignificant detail
that we just happen to get along with right now, something we can ignore when it
suits us; it is constitutive of our ability to comprehend anything whatsoever.
As noted earlier, human beings haven't yet figured out a way of thinking about
anything that doesn't use language, directly or indirectly -- nor are they ever
likely to. And we can say that with some confidence because of what the words in
the last handful of sentences now mean.121
[Incidentally, Option (1b) from earlier
suffers from the same weakness.]
Finally,
Professor of Linguistics,
Vyvyan Evans, concurs (but no one should assume I agree with everything
Evans has to say):
"There is one last big problem for the idea of a Universal Grammar. That is its
strange implications for human evolution. If language is genetically hard-wired,
then it self-evidently had to emerge at some point in our evolutionary lineage.
As it happens, when Chomsky was developing the theory, language was generally
assumed to be absent in other species in our genus, such as
Neanderthal man. This
would seem to narrow the window of opportunity during which it could have
emerged. Meanwhile, the relatively late appearance of sophisticated human
culture around 50,000 years ago (think complex tool-making, jewellery, cave-art
and so on) seemed to both require and confirm this late emergence. Chomsky
argued that it might have appeared on the scene as little as 100,000 years ago,
and that it must have arisen from a genetic mutation. Stop and think about this:
it is a very weird idea. For one thing, Chomsky's claim is that language came
about through a macro-mutation: a discontinuous jump. But this is at odds with
the modern neo-Darwinian synthesis, widely accepted as fact, which has no place
for such large-scale and unprecedented leaps. Adaptations just don't pop up
fully formed. Moreover, a bizarre consequence of Chomsky's position is that
language couldn't have evolved for the purpose of communication: after all, even
if a grammar gene could have sprung up out of the blue in one lucky individual
(already vanishingly unlikely), the chances of two individuals getting
the same chance mutation, at exactly the same time, is even less credible. And
so, according to the theory of the language instinct, the world's first
language-equipped human presumably had no one to talk to. Something seems to
have gone wrong somewhere. And indeed, we now believe that several of Chomsky's
evolutionary assumptions were incorrect. Recent reconstructions of the
Neanderthal vocal tract show that Neanderthals probably did, in fact, have some
speech capacity, perhaps very modern in quality. It is also becoming clear that,
far from the dumb brutes of popular myth, they had a sophisticated material
culture -- including the ability to create cave engravings and produce
sophisticated stone tools -- not dissimilar to aspects of the human cultural
explosion of 50,000 years ago. It is hard to see how they could have managed the
complex learning and co-operation required for that if they didn't have
language. Moreover, recent genetic analysis reveals there was a fair bit of
interbreeding that took place -- most modern humans have a few bits of
distinctively Neanderthal DNA. Far from modern humans arriving on the scene and
wiping out the hapless ape men, it now looks like early Homo sapiens and Homo
neanderthalensis could have co-habited and interbred. It does not seem
farfetched to speculate that they might also have communicated with one
another." [Quoted from
here; accessed 11/09/2017. Link added; paragraphs merged.]
One thing is
reasonably clear: contemporary
linguistic innovators don't invent new areas of discourse as a result of
genetic mutations or variations. Not even the most died-in-the-wool, gold
plated, diamond studded sociobiologist would argue along those lines. That
is why they have had to concoct the entirely fanciful "memetic"
theory of linguistic or cultural transmission to plug
theGrand Canyon-sized gap in their theory.122
But, even
if they were desperate enough to argue that contemporary language development
had a genetic basis, their theory would emerge still-born, for only those
possessed of the correct genes
would be able to comprehend it!
As seems
obvious, we comprehend languages that are new to us at present because they can
be translated into our own, or they can be explained to us in terms we already
understand. But, ex hypothesi, that option wasn't available to these
bands of proto-linguists -- for to do that they would have to have
possessed the requisite linguistic skills before they possessed them!
Let us now
suppose that the
third alternative above is correct: that
is, that a dialecticalcombination
of cultural and genetic factors facilitated linguistic innovation (which is the
option Harman seems to favour -- in his journal article, at least).
Unfortunately, however, the problems outlined above also plague this
alternative. So, in order to comprehend a radically new innovation (i.e., the
introduction of 'proto-verbs', for instance), MM would already have to be
in possession of the necessary linguistic resources. But,
as noted earlier,
comprehension is both public and language-based. It isn't something we do
privately in our heads. Hence, on this view, MM (or her group) would have
to innovate before
she/they could understand that innovation, or anything said to others!123
Howsoever this idea is re-packaged, we have as yet no idea how linguistic or
social change could be incorporated into, or caused by, our genetic make-up. On
the contrary, current genetic orthodoxy seems to suggest that the former can't
happen -- since extremely wide human cultural diversity is in fact
supervenient on what is a largely stable genetic base, so we are told.
And, given current knowledge, there seems to be no way that social change can be
imprinted on the genome.124
If that is
so, a dialectical account (which sees some sort of mediation between genes and
cooperative social labour as fundamental to the origin of language and thought)
can gain no grip. In the end, like it or not, a materialist account of language
must take an HM-route,
viewing language as a social phenomenon,
and nothing more.124a
There are several possible
DM-escape-routes out of this blind alley. The first involves the postulation of
an 'emergent' property of matter which operates simultaneously in every
member of MM's group, permitting them all to use
W2
at the same moment. Alas, this potential 'escape-route' also suffers from
exactly the same problems as those outlined above. Unless all of these
quasi-miraculous innovators used the same words at the same time (and
in the same way), none of them would be able to understand what anyone else
'said'.124b
The probability that they would all synchronise their use of the same
words/sounds in the same way must be close to zero. Hence, it is highly unlikely
that this band of proto-linguists would all hit on the very same use of
'words'
at exactly the same time. Even dialectically-motivated genes
can't establish a settled vocabulary which would be familiar to all its
users, and which they would all know how to employ in the same way from day one!
The operative word here, of course, is "familiar", since
the above incredible scenario can only work if these proto-linguists are all
familiar with the words that have just been invented!
Is there a
single contemporary human being on the planet who understands even a
highly simplified foreign language upon hearing it for the very first time?
And they are already sophisticated language users. In fact, it looks like
this 'dialectical-gene' has stopped working, otherwise all of us would be able
to pull this trick off all the time. If there were such a gene, few of us would
be phased by hearing, say, Mandarin Chinese, contemporary Aramaic or Ancient
Icelandic, for the first time. On the contrary, many of us struggle with
words in our own language we have never heard before, for goodness sake! Who has
never had to look up the meaning a word in their own language, using a
dictionary or an on-line source? As far as we know, there were no
dictionaries in the
Pleistocene.
It would be
interesting to see how DM-fans go about trying to "grasp"
that contradiction -- that these innovators were all familiar with
words that were entirely new to them! Readers who might fail to
appreciate the irony here need only reflect on the patently ridiculous idea that
it is possible for anyone to be familiar with someone, or something, that
has never been encountered before. Any who still have doubts are invited to
activate their 'dialectical gene' and comprehend words like "agastopia",
"jentacular", and "floccinaucinihilipilification"
without looking them up. Now. look them up using the links provided. And you are
a sophisticated language user, and these words had to be defined/explained
using words already in the language. None of that would be available
hundreds of thousands of years ago.
On the other
hand -- as seems to be more than likely -- if they weren't
in fact familiar with these newly invented words, then whatever these
proto-linguists mouthed at one anther would be as comprehensible as Pentecostal
ecstatic linguists or aphasics (see below) are to us (let alone to one another)
today.
Even MM,
the original innovator, would have to be familiar with grammatically
novel words (which she had never heard or used before), and know how to use
them correctly from the get-go. This isn't credible, to say the least.
Another way
out of this Dialectical Cul-de-Sac might involve the suggestion that MM,
or other members of her group, invented her/their own
private language, and then shared it with the rest. But, even if the
invention of a private language were possible (and there are good reasons (over
and above Marx's view)
to suppose it isn't; on that, see the references listed in Note 86), it would be impossible for
this lone innovator to explain (or communicate) anything to others without the
requisite linguistic resources already being publicly available,by
means of which it could be achieved. As should seem obvious, this 'escape
route' would have to presuppose the existence of the very thing this 'private
language' had been invented to explain: a publicly usable language. Again, we
hit another brick wall.
This series
of dead ends
isn't the least bit surprising: it isn't possible to use language to try to get
behind its conventions. Any attempt to do so will always run into the same
obstacles. That is because language is irreducibly social; any endeavour to
account for it along alternative lines surreptitiously has to appeal to, or has
to utilise, the very thing it had sought to explain. Hence, in order to make
the above scenarios even seem plausible, we had to suppose that early
linguists innovated in the same way we do today. Failing that, we are
forced to concede that they innovated non-socially,
as we don't do today.124c
On the other hand, if they innovated back then as 'social atoms' -- i.e.,
individualistically --
they would fail to communicate. Moreover, we can't assume that such
proto-linguists innovated as we do today, for, plainly(!) they didn't possess a
language, whereas we do. They, and the group to which they belonged, certainly
hadn't gone through the same social development we experience, which helps
create the sophisticated language we all now possess.
The reason
why this barrier is non-negotiable isn't just because we have to use some
language or other to express theories that hope to account for the invention
of language.125
It is also because, in order to do so we have to assume the existence of the
very thing we sought to explain -- i.e., the ability to use language
based on historically-conditioned social convention -- so that communication
could take place. Edit that out, and no wonder communication can't
be accounted for --, except by appeal to myth, metaphor and miracle. [On this
see Note 124c.]
Marxists,
who inadvertently undermine belief in the social nature of language (even
if they pay lip service to it elsewhere), play directly into the hands
of the reactionary forces they otherwise seek to oppose.
It is no
surprise, therefore, to see DM (given its ruling-class origin) once again
compromise HM with sinister efficiency.126
Of course, we needn't speculate about
what might, or might not, have happened hundreds of thousands of years ago, nor
need we appeal to confused religious hysterics to make this point. There are
numerous well-documented cases of aphasics (or, dysphasics)
who utter all manner of odd 'words' and 'sentences' that no one understands --
even when they are (presumably) 'grammatically correct'. Indeed, a recent
episode of House
(i.e.,
Failure to Communicate) illustrated this phenomenon -- concerning a
patient suffering from
Wernicke's Aphasia.126a
In this particular episode the afflicted individual came out with (presumably)
grammatically perfect sentences, the words comprising which his listeners could
in fact understand, but they couldn't figure out why he had uttered them.
So, after he fell and banged his head on the corner of a desk at an office
party, he got up and said to his wife and other concerned onlookers: "I flung
the investment. Why I can sign? It's proficient. Why disqualify the rush? I'm
tabled." Later, he mumbled (on several different occasions): "I displaced my
function", "I grapple average". "Of golf", "Keep the stain. Knife can't force",
"What is the durable? I got a till in the jug", and "Couldn't tackle the bear.
They took my stain."
So, even though he was using ordinary words in what looked like grammatically
correct sentences, or phrases, no one could understand what he was trying to say
because of the radically odd combinations he uttered each time, and which seemed
not to be relevant to anything happening in the immediate vicinity. They all
knew what his words meant, but they couldn't grasp his
speaker's meaning.
In the end, (Doctor) House made an educated guess about that patient's speaker's
meaning (using what were 'sort of' rhyming words) about the last two sentences
-- "Couldn't tackle the bear. They took my stain" -- , interpreting his words to
mean he was trying to say he was bi-polar (hence the reference to the bear --
i.e., "polar bear"), and that he had undergone a brain operation in a dirty
hospital in the 'third world' (hence "stain"). From that, House concluded this
man had caught
cerebral malaria!
So, here, with sophisticated language-users all around him, this individual
still couldn't make himself understood even when he was using familiar words.
What chance would proto-linguists have with 'words' (in fact, noises)
none of them had ever heard before? And, even if they had heard those noises
before, they would struggle even more than the listeners in that episode of
House to make sense of them, since those characters in House at least
knew they were dealing with familiar words (and, indeed, with nouns as well as
verbs), just combined in an odd way.
In that case, the above ancestral novice innovators would confront each other as
a group of aphasics face us, or one another, today. It isn't possible to
comprehend such radically flawed 'speech'.
Moreover, we don't need to appeal to fictionalised US TV programmes to make this
point. As noted above, there are plenty of well-documented cases. One
interesting example was outlined in Aitchison (1996). This concerns a monk
called
Brother John
who, in the 1970s, experienced a series of epileptic seizures. Whenever these
attacks occurred, he found he couldn't understand anything that was said to him,
and no one could comprehend his speech, either. Longer seizures, though, had a
more dramatic effect:
"He lost his ability to use language, and was aware
of this... [as] he [later] noted: 'I know that certain words I say are not
correct but I do not know which ones...'. When his spoken speech was tested
during a spell [i.e., an epileptic episode -- RL], similar sounding nonsense
words tended to recur, often variants of the nonsense sequence tuwari.
When shown a picture of a telephone...[he] said: 'That's it, there. The furi
twar. No. Glarity tuware tuwa tuware ari tuware tuware tuwarere tu tuware tu'."
[Aitchison (1996), p.39. Italic
emphasis in the original; quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions
adopted at this site.
Paragraphs merged.]
But, why are
we not allowed to conclude that Brother John is innovating, here? The
answer is quite plain: because what he 'said' was incomprehensible -- even to
the individual himself after the seizures abated. And the same can be said
of those hypothetical ancestral innovators, babbling away in their caves many
thousands of years ago.
It could be
objected that aphasics (etc.) are brain damaged, which means aphasia (etc.)
isn't relevant to the case in hand. Of course, it is undeniable that aphasics
are damaged individuals, but the point is that whatever the
aetiology,
the 'language' of anyone who utters nonsense (or who produces totally strange
noises) would be, and is, incomprehensible to those around them -- unless
someone 'de-codes' it. But, in order to do that they would need a
sophisticated language into which it can be de-coded. Plainly, that would
require the existence of a language in which that were possible -- and, given
the
scenario outlined above, that language would already have to contain
'proto-verbs', or no such translation could be effected.
Once more we would have to assume the prior existence of the very thing we
sought to explain!
Moreover, those without brain damage struggle to comprehend individuals
who use language in odd ways today (and who doubt this, try grappling with Finnegan's Wake!),
despite their expert training and advanced technology. Proto-linguists,
therefore, stand no chance of comprehending innovators who use new words in
completely new ways.
Anyway, what is a massive brain mutation other than damage to that organ?
Harman's
resistance to the idea that human development is "exceptional", was 'sudden' and
took place relatively recently, was clearly motivated by a fear that to think
otherwise would be to make dangerous concessions to Idealism. Indeed, his
discussion appeared under the heading: "The new idealist challenge", where he
summarised what he took to be the main arguments central to this challenge --
one of which was based on Gould and Eldredge's theory of
Punctuated Equilibrium. His conclusion was:
"The overall impact of these different arguments has been to encourage a fashion
in recent years which sees 'a distinctively human way of life' as arising very
late in history, as a result of a 'human revolution' which first produced
culture and language." [Harman
(1994), p.96.]
He then
summed up his counter-argument to the above in the following way:
"So there has to be a
recognition of how quantity turns into quality, of how through successive
changes animal life gave birth to that new form of life we call 'human', which
had a dynamic of its own, shaped by its labour and its culture not by its genes.
But this should not lead to a collapse into a new
idealism which sees culture and
language
as emerging from nowhere in the fairly recent past." [Ibid.,
p.102.]
This partly
explains why he rejected Gould and Eldredge's theory:
"Finally, the argument that punctuated evolution can take place does not, in
itself, prove that it did take place in such a way as to produce culture and
language suddenly. And there is one powerful argument against this -- that of
brain size. If the evolution of humanity was the result of very rapid changes
towards the end of a period of millions of years, then that is when you would
expect the most characteristic feature of
homo sapiens
-- the massive size of our brain compared to our bodies -- to arise. The
original formulation of the punctuated evolution hypothesis by Gould and
Eldridge (sic) in fact held to this view, contending that the brain hardly
increased in size for the million years
homo erectus
existed. But, as Stringer points out, there is 'little evidence' to back up this
view. That leaves a problem for any theory which sees the 'human revolution' as
occurring all at once half a million years ago with the replacement of
homo erectus
by homo sapien (sic), let alone 35,000 years ago after the evolution of
anatomically modern humans: why did late homo erectus have a brain twice
the size of the
Australopithecines, and the
Neanderthals
a modern sized brain? It could not have been simply to undertake the mental
operations which could be done by their ancestors millions of years before. At
the same time, it is inconceivable that our forebears of a million years ago
could have survived unless they had already developed ways of co-operating
together to cope with their environment and of transmitting knowledge to each
other on a qualitatively greater scale than is to be found among our ape
cousins. For by that time they were already moving out of the African valleys
where their species originated to colonise much of Eurasia, showing they were
capable not just of living in a certain restricted ecological niches, but of
adapting a variety of environments to their needs -- learning to discriminate
between those newly encountered varieties of plants that were edible and those
that were poisonous, learning to hunt new sorts of animals, learning to protect
themselves against new predators, learning to cope with new climates." [Ibid.,
p.99. Italics in the original;
paragraphs merged.]
Harman's
evidence and argument won't be disputed here, but this form of exceptionalism
clearly suggested to Harman that language and (what are) recognisably human
psychological traits might not have
material roots in collective labour (etc.), implying some form of
Idealism.127
But, we
have already seen that DM itself collapses into Idealism (since it is
not only predicated on it, it was born out of it -- despite the materialist
flip that is said to have been inflicted on it -- on that, see
here). Moreover, Harman himself
had to use several inappropriate metaphors to support his case. He supposed, for
example, that specific developments in evolution would have "encouraged" other
advances to take place, but he attributed to natural selection a mystical
sort of agency, saying things like the following:
"Natural selection would bring about…evolution in the direction of ever
larger, denser and more complex neural networks, capable of directing and
learning from intricate motor functions of the hand and of using minute changes
in gesture or voice to communicate…." [Harman
(1994), p.100. Bold emphasis added.]
This isn't
just Harman's shorthand for "Natural causes eliminated those organisms
that were less successful in reproducing, because of factors X, Y
or Z". That can be seen from the metaphor Harman found he had to use. In
fact, this mirrors Darwin's own employment of the metaphorical (and thus
the teleological) term "natural selection". Indeed, Darwinism is shot through
with teleological concepts; and so is Harman's article.128
Of course,
scientific metaphors are entirely unexceptionable -- but only if they aren't
taken literally! The suspicion that Harman
has in fact done just that isn't helped by the way he attributes
direction to causes that he elsewhere says aren't "contingent".129
In that case, it isn't easy to reconcile the alleged capacity of natural forces
to control and direct events with theirsupposedly non-necessitating
nature.129a
Nor is it easy to explain how 'non-intelligent matter' is able to 'direct'
anything at all;
nor, indeed, how objects and processes in nature can be 'directed',
'controlled', and 'determined' by
anything else. Still less is it easy to comprehend how such objects and process
succeed in 'obeying' these 'injunctions' everywhere and everywhen, nor yet how
these non-necessitating 'directives' command such unquestioning compliance
throughout the entire 'non-intelligent', material universe, for all of time.130
As intimated
above, in order to construct such a causal account of nature, theorists found
that they had to animate
matter at every turn. Hence, they had to attribute to it a capacity to 'follow
orders' (as it were), or to 'obey' certain natural -- or, maybe, 'dialectical'
-- 'laws'. Clearly, that would mean objects and processes in nature were either
intelligent agents (capable of 'obeying' 'laws' without the benefit of an
education and in the absence of any sort of socialisation), or they were
rather dim agents, bullied and pushed about the place by a 'Universal Will'.
Indeed, that
is precisely what is implied by a literal interpretation of such
metaphors.130a
Now, far
from it being the case that only human exceptionalism implies Idealism,
Harman's approach itself ends up putting 'mind' before matter, for it depends on
the (implicit) metaphysical doctrine that natural events are directed by just
such a 'Cosmic Will' (a notion which is buried behind all those metaphors).131
In fact, as
pointed out earlier, Harman
found that he had to anthropomorphise nature from the very beginning so that
intelligence and purpose could 'emerge' from it later on.132
To that end, causes were pictured as determining ('deciding', 'directing'
or 'controlling') events by natural law.132a
These are "laws" which must be "obeyed" by 'lifeless, non-intelligent' matter,
with this fable made 'acceptable' by the indiscriminate use of metaphor -- i.e.,
in this case, the mystical correlate of those aforementioned "just-so-stories".
[Since I have developed these points in more detail elsewhere in this Essay, I
won't rehearse them again here.]133
To be sure,
Harman's intention is to defend Engels and his belief that labour contributed
significantly to the development of human language and cognition, since he sees
(in recent trends) a resurgence of Idealism. However, in order to defend Engels
in this area it isn't necessary to deny human exceptionalism; in fact, as this
Essay has shown, the best way to defend the 'Labour Theory of Culture' is to
emphasise our uniqueness.
To sum up:
there is nothing in current Darwinian theory that allows for social change to be
imprinted in the genome, and there is nothing in Marxism that permits cultural
phenomena to be
genetically encoded. Indeed, human cultural development has been
free-floating on a largely stable genetic base for tens of thousands of years.
This explains why human beings across the world can inter-communicate, and, with
relative ease, share and enjoy cultural artefacts with one another, even
where their respective languages appear to be totally dissimilar, and their
history could not be more unlike.133a
Since it isn't possible for Neo-Darwinism to account for this, it is puzzling
why it has been given any credence (in this regard) by Marxists trying to
account for language and thought.134
As we have seen, all that Harman himself could offer his readers in order to
counter the reactionary ideas implied by ultra-Neo-Darwinism was a tired old
reference to Engels's first 'Law', 'supported' by the hope that others will "see
things" this way.
Indeed, one
might just as well try to stop an avalanche with a "Keep Off" sign.
The minor
genetic changes that have taken place over the last ten or twenty thousand years
are testimony enough to the truth of the above comments. Over that period,
cultural innovation has been
truly staggering
while genetic change has been relatively insignificant. Harman himself alludes
to this fact when he speaks of a social process that displays "a dynamic of its
own". As he will no doubt agree (but, alas,
he
is no longer with us!), the theory that accounts for this is called,
HM. But, and once
again, it is DM that obscures the clarity that the latter theory brings to an
understanding of our own history and social development.134b
It is high
time we consciously selected out
this mutant, alien-class theory (DM); it is one aspect of our radical
inheritance we shouldn't thank our theoretical ancestors for passing down to
us
without modification.
Another
comrade who has also drifted off into deep waters is
Andrew Collier. Collier recently attempted to controvert the ideas of
certain so-called "Wittgensteinians" with arguments drawn from the work of Noam
Chomsky,
Donald
Davidson,
Trevor Pateman and
Roy Bhaskar,
among others.
One of
Collier's main worries appears to be Wittgenstein's alleged insistence
that the reasons for an action can't also be the causes of that
action. Apparently, refuting this particular idea is important because it allows
theorists to develop a 'naturalistic' explanation of
human action.
[At this
point,
alarm bells should be ringing in the head of anyone who accepts
HM.]
Of course,
this issue is connected with Collier's attempt to provide his readers with his
own brand of
a prioriSuperscience, dressed up
this time as something that its adherents call "Critical Theory". Indeed,
Collier's argument forms part of a wider attempt to establish the case for a
Bhaskarean-style "Critical
Realism".135
Unfortunately, the reader will search long and hard (and to no avail) in
Collier's book for a direct
reference to any of Wittgenstein's actual arguments. [In fact, there is
no reference at all to the Philosophical Investigations (or any
other of Wittgenstein's works) in the Bibliography of Collier (1994).] A strange
omission one might feel for an
avowed realist;
precious little correspondence with
reality evident here!
What the
reader will find in place of
evidence and argument, however, are several rather vague allusions to the
opinions of certain "Wittgensteinians" about this or that aspect of 'mental'
phenomena -- alongside a few misguided comments lifted from a book by former
"Wittgensteinian", and one-time radical, Trevor Pateman.136
The
substance of Collier's case against Wittgenstein fares little better. Quoting
Bhaskar, he argues as follows:
"What does it mean to say that reasons
can be causes? Bhaskar suggests that:
"'When something is cited as a cause it
is, I think, most typically being viewed as that factor which, in the
circumstances that actually prevailed, "so tipped the balance of events to
produce the known outcome"…'…." [Collier (1994), p.152, quoting Bhaskar (1979),
p.106. I am clearly using a different edition of the latter, since Collier gives
p.83 as the location of this passage. Quotation marks altered to conform with
the conventions adopted at this site.]
He then
concludes that:
"Intentional actions involve beliefs and
desires…. It is hardly open to dispute that, given a desire for something,coming to have a belief about the way to get it may 'tip the balance', and so
be naturally described as 'the cause'." [Ibid., p.153. Bold emphasis added.]
Of course, a
belief about "a way to get"
X
isn't a reason why X was wanted in the first place. If NN wants to
attend a protest march, for example, and believes the Number 159 bus will take
her there, that surely isn't the reason why she wanted to be on that march!
Nevertheless, it is worth asking whether the opening sentence of the first of
the above passages, namely:
"[W]hen something is cited as a cause it
is, I think, most typically being viewed as that factor which, in the
circumstances that actually prevailed, 'so tipped the balance of events to
produce the known outcome'...", [Ibid.]
is based on
some the yet-to-be-published, innovative research into the
sociolinguistics
of the terms in question -- or, whether it was just a guess. If the
former is the case, it is reasonable to ask where the data is to be found that
supports the view that a cause is "typically…viewed" as something that "tipped
the balance of events".
This query
isn't being raised out of mere cussedness, or even 'pedantry';
if someone makes an empirical claim about the "typical" way the rest of
us are supposed to interpret (or use) a certain word that is in fact not even
remotely like the way they would normally employ it, some supporting
evidence is the least one should expect. [If there is any such evidence, perhaps
Collier will include it in the second edition of his book.] Even so, in abeyance
of this data, we would be unwise to revise our use of English just
because of what Roy Bhaskar says
everyone else typically understands by the word "cause".137
In fact, competent
users of language needn't wait for the results of such a study, or survey,
before they have to be informed what the words they already use mean. If
they were stupid enough to wait for one such, a study of the words "word" and
"study" (among others) would surely have to be carried out first before
any conclusions could safely be drawn. And how might that task be undertaken,
for goodness sake?
Manifestly, if no one understands what these two words mean without a
study being commissioned to that end no one would know what was being
proposed.
In fact, as
I am sure Collier is also aware, when someone challenges another's understanding
of a word (or attempts to revise it), an appeal to everyday examples -- or in
some cases a dictionary (but not a survey) --, would, in many cases,
settle things. Collier, unfortunately, omitted these simple steps. In order to
put this right, several typical examples of the use of "cause" (and other
related terms) will be examined later, at which point the reader will be invited
to decide for herself if they
are typical. In advance of that it is worth noting that no dictionary
worth its salt defines "cause" in the way Collier or Bhaskar suggest.
In fact The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (1993 edition) defines
"cause" in two ways:
"1
gen. That which produces an effect or consequence; an antecedent or
antecedents followed by a certain phenomenon…. A person or other agent who
occasions something, with or without intent…. A fact, circumstance or
consideration which moves a person to action; ground for action, reason, motive;
esp adequate motive or justification….
"1
v.t. Be the cause of, effect, bring about, occasion, produce, induce, make
(a person or thing to do, a thing
to be done, be done); (arch) bring it about that…. 2
v.t. Give reasons or excuses…."
Admittedly,
this mentions "reasons" as part of the definition, which connection is not in
fact being denied here. In some cases, clearly, causes are reasons
(as, indeed, reasons are sometimes causes) -- or, at least, they can be given
as reasons. For example, if asked for the reason why a certain tree fell
over, one could point out that it had become rotten with age and the wind
finally caused it to topple in the wind. Although I won't quote it here, the
same dictionary lists "cause" as part of the meaning of "reason", too. What
is in dispute, however, is whether reasons are always causes, and
whether causes are always 'balance-tippers'.
Readers of the above dictionary entry will struggle long and hard to find any
reference to balances (tipped or otherwise) in connection with either term.
Someone
might point to the following sentence in the above dictionary definition:"A
fact, circumstance or consideration which moves a person to action...", and
argue that this is, to all intents and purposes, the same as "balance-tipping
cause". But, that isn't the implication of this part of the definition. Human
beings aren't permanently teetering on the verge of doing whatever they decide
to do, which is what the 'balance' metaphor implies. For something to be a
'balance-tipping' cause that would have to be the case -- the individuals
concerned would have to be in some sort of 'balance-tipping' -- or 'ready to be
tipped' -- state -- especially if this is supposed to be "typical" in such
causes. While something might indeed move us to act, there is no suggestion that
there was a 'balance' that needed tipping. For example, suppose you find out
that your house/flat is on fire and are "moved" to get out as fast as possible.
Does that imply you have been teetering on the edge of rushing to safety for
years and the fire finally nudged you in that direction?138
Of course,
it isn't possible to settle
philosophical questions with an appeal to what dictionaries have to say;
the above considerations, and the dictionary quoted in Note 138, are only
being included to counter Collier's claim that:
"It is hardly open to dispute that,
given a desire for something,
coming to have a belief about the way to get it may 'tip the balance', and so
be naturally described as 'the cause'." [Collier (1994), p.153.]
Despite
this, it is a little rich of Collier -- who follows Bhaskar in this -- to quote
what we might be inclined to say
as part of a general scientific/philosophical analysis of the way the natural
world is supposed to work, all the while criticising Wittgenstein and various
un-named Wittgensteinians for allegedly doing the very same thing! [Cf.,
Collier (1994), pp.205, 214-15.]
If, however,
such a consideration of "what we say" had in fact been aimed at reminding us how
we actually use ordinary words (illustrated by a wide selection of
everyday examples, like those given in this Essay) -- perhaps also aimed at
dispelling philosophical confusion, ensuring that we avoid employing language
inappropriately or misleadingly -- all well and good. We would then be on the
same page. Unfortunately, Collier simply gestures at doing the former
while falling headlong into performing the opposite of the latter, an
outcome which the whole exercise had originally been aimed at sidestepping.
Hence, far from representing some sort of "Critical Realism", Collier's account
more closely resembles "Uncritical Idealism", wherein what we say determines
a causal law, in reality! The end result is that all the effort he and
others have put into providing an 'objective' account of nature and society has
been vitiated since it is now plain that the whole exercise is based on the
reification of Bhaskarean jargon, and little else!
Indeed, this
approach illustrates quite nicely a point made in Button, et al (1995),
quoted several times already:
"As to the widespread disparagement of
attempts to resolve philosophical problems by way of appeals to 'what we would
ordinarily say', we would proffer the following comment. It often appears that
those who engage in such disparaging nonetheless themselves often do what they
programmatically disparage, for it seems to us at least arguable that many of
the central philosophical questions are in fact, and despite protestations to
the contrary, being argued about in terms of appeals (albeit often inept) to
'what we would ordinarily say...'. That the main issues of contemporary
philosophy of mind are essentially about language (in the sense that they
arise from and struggle with confusions over the meanings of ordinary words) is
a position which, we insist, can still reasonably be proposed and defended. We
shall claim here that most, if not all, of the conundrums, controversies and
challenges of the philosophy of mind in the late twentieth century consist in a
collectively assertive, although bewildered, attitude toward such ordinary
linguistic terms as 'mind' itself, 'consciousness', 'thought', 'belief',
'intention' and so on, and that the problems which are posed are ones which
characteristically are of the form which ask what we should say if
confronted with certain facts, as described....
"We have absolutely nothing against the
coining of new, technical uses [of words], as we have said. Rather, the issue is
that many of those who insist upon speaking of machines' 'thinking' and
'understanding' do not intend in the least to be coining new, restrictively
technical, uses for these terms. It is not, for example, that they have decided
to call a new kind of machine an 'understanding machine', where the word
'understanding' now means something different from what we ordinarily mean by
that word. On the contrary, the philosophical cachet derives entirely from their
insisting that they are using the words 'thinking' and 'understanding' in the
same sense that we ordinarily use them. The aim is quite
characteristically to provoke, challenge and confront the rest of us. Their
objective is to contradict something that the rest of us believe. What the 'rest
of us' believe is simply this: thinking and understanding is something
distinctive to human beings..., and that these capacities set us apart from the
merely mechanical.... The argument that a machine can think or understand,
therefore, is of interest precisely because it features a use of the words
'think' and 'understand' which is intendedly the same as the ordinary use.
Otherwise, the sense of challenge and, consequently, of interest would
evaporate.... If engineers were to make 'understand' and 'think' into technical
terms, ones with special, technical meanings different and distinct from
those we ordinarily take them to have, then, of course, their claims to have
built machines which think or understand would have no bearing whatsoever upon
our inclination ordinarily to say that, in the ordinary sense, machines do not
think or understand." [Button, et al (1995), pp.12, 20-21.]
Despite this
initial worry, one might also be forgiven for wondering what relevance the
following emphasised words possess:
"Intentional actions involve beliefs and
desires…. It is hardly open to dispute that, given a desire for something,
coming to have a belief about the way to get it may 'tip the balance', and so
be naturally described as 'the cause'." [Ibid., p.153. Bold emphases added.]
Even
supposing it were true that means-end reasoning preceded some of our actions,
how would that show reasons were
causes, let alone 'balance-tippers'? Of course, if something is to be
regarded as the cause of something else, and this is supposed to form
part of a novel scientific analysis of the processes involved, evidence would be
required -- otherwise any old fable (or, indeed, any old "just-so story") could
be presented as 'hard science'.
Nevertheless, Collier's 'analysis' purports to be a little more
prosaic,
based on what we might ordinarily say and think. If so, as noted above, a wide
selection of examples of everyday use would have been much more appropriate and
helpful. Unfortunately, Collier confined his 'research' to an examination of
what Roy Bhaskar had to say, not what ordinary speakers actually say.
A
consideration of a wider selection of the sort of ordinary examples that Collier
unwisely omitted reveals a different, and far more complex, story (one that
isn't easy to squeeze into Bhaskar's a priori,
dogmatic and ultimately Idealist straightjacket).
Further
developing an earlier example: if, say, comrade
NN believes that running for a bus will help her catch it, and so acted
upon that belief, would this count as the reason
why she caught the bus? Even if running for a bus caused her to catch it would
that be her reason for catching it -- running for it? It seems it
should if Collier were correct. However, if, when asked for the reason
why she caught the bus,
NN replied: "Because I ran for it" (and not, for example, "Because I
wanted to get to the march on time"), we would be somewhat bemused, and rightly
so. But, if reasons were causes, we wouldn't be at all puzzled by such a
response. We would accept any 'balance tipping' cause as a surrogate reason, or
as the reason, no matter how odd it might seem. In that case, NN
could have answered "Because of the 'Big Bang'", and that would be the end of
the matter -- since that event tipped every subsequent 'balance', by default.138a
And, what if
it turned out that the 'balance-tipping cause of NN actually catching the
bus was the fact that the driver accelerated away rather lazily, and forgot to
close the doors, since he was day-dreaming about his new girlfriend? Was that
NN's reason? It was part of the cause.138b
Naturally,
it could be argued that these responses are absurd because (i) Collier does not
claim that all causes are reasons,139
and (ii) He connects
desires and intentions with the reasons, or causes, of actions. Clearly, the
"Big Bang" and the aforementioned driver's actions couldn't serve in that
capacity, nor could they cause NN's actions in the required
manner.
But,
Collier's own account actually implies several of the above crazy conclusions.
He says:
"Intentional actions involve beliefs and
desires…. It is hardly open to dispute that, given a desire for something,coming to have a belief about the way to get it may 'tip the balance', and so
be naturally described as 'the cause'." [Ibid., p.153.]
In that
case,
NN could reply that she caught the bus because she wanted to, which, even
on Collier's terms, would be an empty explanation. NN caught the bus
because she wanted to catch it, and her wanting to catch it caused her to catch
it, so this must be the reason why she did it. But, her real reason might have
been to get to the march on time, which she would readily have volunteered, if
asked.
Well,
perhaps this again misses the point?
In fact, it
doesn't; the
cause of NN's catching of the bus and the
reason she caught it are separate matters. Collier's account simply runs
them together.
However, if
we examine Collier's words more carefully, another puzzle soon emerges:
"…coming to have a belief about the way
to get [what one desires] may 'tip the balance', and so be naturally described
as 'the cause'." [Collier (1994), p.153.]
From this,
it looks like it is the presence of a belief or set of beliefs about the
means to attaining our ends (and not so much our desires as such) that is
supposed to cause our actions.
At least
this interpretation would rule out the "Big Bang" response mentioned earlier --,
but, alas, it would do so only at the expense of introducing several other
absurdities. For instance, as pointed out above, no one would say that the
reason why they did something could be identified with any of the beliefs they
had about how they might go about attaining what they had, in this case, wanted.
If they did, then
NN could reasonably reply that the reason she caught the bus was that she
ran for it (since, presumably, she must have believed that running for the bus
would help her catch it)! Indeed, Collier himself could declare that the reason
he wrote his book was that he had a word-processor, which he bought because he
believed it would help him write it!
To be sure,
it could be objected that Collier didn't mean that any old beliefs were
relevant, only those that are relevant to attaining our ends. But, the above
examples were specifically chosen because they were of that sort.
Even so, it
could be countered that the above reasons are
contributory causes in disguise, not the cause. In the first case,
running for the bus
helped cause
NN to catch it, and buying a computer was part of the causal
background that led to the said book being written.
However,
even if that were the case, could any of these be described as "balance-tipping
causes"? That is far from clear. In some cases, perhaps so, in others, maybe not
-- and that might be the case even if the candidate reason in question was
the cause. So, the cause of
NN
catching the bus could be the fact she ran for it, but the reason she caught it
was she wanted to go on a march.
Clearly, one
of the problems here is that it is all too easy to confuse two different
meanings of "reason". In order to illustrate the latter connotation, consider
another example: If comrade MM attends a march against the Nazi BNP and
gave as his reason for being there that he ran for the bus withNN
(since that was the easiest way to get there), would we count as his reason
for demonstrating against the BNP that he ran alongside NN? In one sense
of "reason" perhaps we might, but in another sense it would be a joke. If MM
had been asked why he was on the march, and he replied "Because I ran for a bus
with NN", few would accept that as anything other than a supercilious
remark, at best.
The
superficial plausibility of Collier's argument relies on conflating these two
meanings of "reason". One of these connotations arises in connection with an
explanation others might give why something happened, and this might indeed
involve reasons being causes, but this isn't always the case. Nor is it
even typically the case with the reasons an agent might volunteer. It would be
perfectly acceptable to explain why MM caught the bus that he ran
alongside NN (and this might even be recruited as one of the contributing
causes for his successfully catching it), but it wouldn't count as part of MM's
reason for going on that march, or even for catching that bus.
Furthermore,
in connection with explanations of this sort, not every use of "because"
is causal. Consider, for example, the following:
B1: NM broke union rules because
the constitution says workers must have a ballot before each work-to-rule.
B2: Two is a
prime number
because it has exactly two factors, itself and one.
B3: DM-Athletic's first goal didn't count because the striker was
offside.
B4: You can't be nominated for that
position because you aren't a paid-up member of the party.
None of these uses of "because" is at
all plausibly causal, even if all are explanatory. In B1, the union rules didn't
cause the alleged infraction; in B2, a number isn't caused to be prime by
the said definition, and so on.139a
It could be
objected once more that the above misrepresents Collier's argument, for it
assumes that he thinks causes are reasons, when he merely argues that reasons
are causes. But, as we shall see below, Collier's 'theory' does indeed imply
this since his account of causation suggests that causes are in fact
surrogate reasons, and that everything that has happened (or will ever
happen), is subject to the operation of the mysterious 'Cosmic Will' we met
earlier.
Anyway, even
if this distinction were disallowed (for some reason), would things really be as
Collier depicts them? Are beliefs and desires normally regarded -- i.e., in
everyday language (for, as pointed out earlier, what else could
Collier/Bhaskar's own term "naturally described" amount to?) -- as little more
than 'balance-tippers'? Is this
metaphor -- which pictures the mind as a sort of see-saw or weighing scale --,
any better than other figures of speech we have learnt to distrust in the
Philosophy of Mind? The few everyday examples Collier presents in support of his
rather bold claims suggest that his case is far more hyperbole than
hypothesis. Wittgenstein himself characterised this particular
theoretical malady (i.e., the urge to generalise from a few
'non-standard', or specially-concocted, applications of a word to all of
its instances) as an intellectual disease, a pernicious case of philosophical
malnourishment brought on by a diet of too few examples.140
Hence, it would seem that Collier's somewhat counter-intuitive thesis -- wherein
broad results have been built on narrow evidence -- is further confirmation of
that untoward diagnosis.
Consider,
therefore, these additional, perfectly ordinary examples:
C1:
NN believed that the bus was going to be 20 minutes late, so she decided
to walk.
C2: NM wanted to go to France for
his holidays, so he booked a flight to Paris.
C3: MM believed that
Kier Starmer was a
socialist, so he voted Labour.
C4: The angry workers wanted a better
deal, so they went on strike.
C5: The boss knew the workers wouldn't
back down, so she gave them what they demanded.
C6: The philosopher wanted to make a
point about causation, so he wrote a book.
[These are
all boringly typical sentences, which we all recognise as such as soon as we
read them.]
Are we
really supposed to believe that in any of the above there is a "balance" that
has been "tipped" in a particular direction? Or even that it is natural
-- or "typical", to use Collier's word, again -- to re-describe any of them that
way?
Are
commuters in a constant state of equilibrium, hovering between walking
and riding, to such an extent that a bus that is 20 minutes late will tip them
one way, while one that is only 19 minutes 59 seconds late will send them the
other? Are bosses permanently teetering on the edge of settling with
recalcitrant workers, all the while perched in a state of equilibrium
between calling in the Police and capitulating to militants? Are Labour voters
wobbling on a knife-edge, half-Tory, half-Labour? Does it take a Kier Starmer to
unbalance
them? Do philosophers sit on fences all day long, dithering about writing books
and articles until a sufficiently unbalancing thought or desire enters their
heads? Do people linger in a state of indecision over proposed holidays to
France?141
It could be
argued that what Collier really means is that NN's reasons for doing
X,
Y or Z aren't so much the cause of her X-, Y-,
or
Z-ing, but of NN's intention
to bring about X, Y or Z. In the earlier example, for
instance,
NN wanted to go on the march; that is what caused her to initiate a
series of voluntary and intentional actions related to whatever she believed
would bring it about.
If asked why
she ran for that bus, NN would perhaps reply "I wanted to go on the
march." So her reason (i.e., her aim to join the march) caused her to initiate a
series of actions (getting dressed, having breakfast, leaving her flat, running
to the bus stop, etc.). Now while there might be, and, indeed are, a multitude
of other causes of this series of events (clearly they are far too many to list,
but they range from her beliefs about the properties of the physical universe in
her vicinity, the behaviour of others (such as bus drivers), her knowledge of
the transport system, and so on), the main cause of the series of actions
depicted above was NN's reason (i.e., to go on that march), which
informed all of her other relevant voluntary actions and intentions that
morning. In that sense, her reason was the most important cause of her actions
because this lay behind most, if not all, of the rest, and this is what "tipped
the balance". Without that reason, and hence those intentions and
voluntary actions, she wouldn't have done what she did.142
Or, so it
could be argued...
There are,
however, several problems with this way of seeing things:
(1)
NN may in fact have two or more perfectly good reasons why she did what
she did (i.e., running for that bus), some of which could even be operative at
the same time as the first given reason. For instance, these could comprise two
or more of the following: (a) To go on the march, (b) To test out a painful leg
muscle, or new pair of trainers, (c) To beat her companion to the bus, (d) To
wake herself up, (e) To avoid getting wet, (f) To escape from a dog/annoying
man, (g) To burn some calories, (h) To increase/test her fitness..., and so on.
Which one of these is the 'balance-tipping' cause of her running for that bus?
Some might want to argue that the
'balance-tipping' cause is always the main reason why agents do what they
do. But, in the above case, NN might have as her main reason that she
wanted to go on the march, but what actually made her run for the bus was her
desire to test out a painful leg muscle.
Now, if we
were to argue that in that case her desire to test her painful
leg is the 'balance-tipping' cause in this instance, then we would already have
resiled
from the above thesis, that such 'balance-tipping' causes constitute the main
reason or cause why people do things. Even so, the 'balance-tipper' here was the
painful leg. But, that leg must have been in that condition for some time. Does
this mean that 'balance-tipping' causes can last for weeks? [More on this
presently.]
It could be
countered that it was her desire to test her leg that was in fact the
'balance-tipping', main cause,
in this instance. Hence, if her leg hadn't been painful the day before, she
wouldn't have run for the bus today; she might have walked instead. Indeed, and
in this case we would seem to have a reason which is also a cause (a possibility
that hasn't in fact been ruled out in this Essay). But, is it really a 'balance-tipper'?
[More on
that
presently.]
Anyway, this needn't always be the case. As noted above, there could be
several reasons why NN ran for that bus.
Supporters of the 'reasons-as-causes' view of things might now want to occupy a
fall-back position, and argue that the set of reasons why agents do what
they do constitute the cause of what they do. That response brings us to the
second reason (no pun intended) why the general equation of reasons and causes
is misguided.
(2) As noted
above, it is important to distinguish two senses of "reason":
(a)
"Reason" as an explanation an agent would give for why they did
X, Y or Z, and,
(b)
"Reason" as something that caused the X-ing,
Y-ing or Z-ing.
Now, it might not always be possible for
an agent to be able to say what caused something to happen, but it is
impossible for an agent not to know his/her reasons for doing something
intentional.142a0
This shows that reasons and causes aren't always the same. This distinction
becomes all the more glaring when motives are introduced into the equation
(which are, in fact, more natural candidates for psychological causes
than reasons). So, if NN were to φ for reason, R, then
NN must know what
R is -- that is, NN must be aware of R and be able to
volunteer R as their reason if asked. On the other hand, if NN's
motives for φ-ing were
F, G, or
H, then it is not always the case that NN will be aware of F,
G, or H, or be able to say what they are.
[The Greek
symbol used above is explained
here. R is a
dummy variable for propositions or clauses that could be advanced as a reason
(such as "I wanted to go on the march", or "I want to prove Collier and Bhaskar
wrong"); F,
G, and H
are dummy letters for noun or verb phrases that could express motives (such as
"To annoy the neighbours" or "Jealousy"). It is worth adding that we can't be
unaware of our intentions, but we don't always know our motives. That shows
that intentions and motives aren't the same.]
Collier in fact has an answer to this:
"That reasons can be causes is also a necessary
condition of the phenomenon known as rationalization
(in the Freudian sense). This occurs when the reasons sincerely given for an
action by an agent are not the real reasons. Thus we may suppose that
Henry VIII
sincerely believed that he had his marriage to
Catherine of Aragon
annulled because it was contrary to
canon law,
whereas the real reason was that she had not provided him with a male
heir, or perhaps that he fancied
Ann Boleyn.
What is the force of 'real reason' here? Surely causally efficacious
reason.... In questioning one's mental states in this way, one is, among other
things asking whether one's putative reasons are one's real reasons, i.e., the
reasons that are effective. For instance, I may come to question whether my
believing a scandalous story about an odious political leader is really caused
by the evidence for the story or my desire to vilify that leader, or whether my
depression is caused by the state of the world or the state of my digestion."
[Collier (1994), p.154. Links added; paragraphs merged.]
However,
from the above, it is clear that Collier has confused motives with reasons
tout court. Motives can indeed be reasons in sense (2b)
above, but not in sense (2a). Sure, Henry VIII
might have given as his reason for annulling his first marriage that it wasn't a
legitimate union in canon law (since Catherine had been married to his deceased
brother,
Arthur), while his motives might have been as Collier suggests they were. It
won't do, however, to call motives reasons in sense (2a),
unless Henry would have given one of them as his reason, and not have
them attributed to him by others after the event.
Even so, the
example Collier chose isn't a happy one, for it shouldn't be news to Marxists
that members of the ruling-class hide their real motives and their real
reasons, and advance in public the reasons they give for taking a certain course
of action for ideological or 'public relations' purposes. Nor will it do to
appeal to Freud's pseudo-scientific theories in support, either. Human beings
were surely aware of ulterior motives long before Freud was born, and that
concept isn't made any the clearer by having Freud's obscure jargon, and his
even more dubious a priori speculations, imposed upon it.
Anyway, it
isn't as if Henry VIII was unaware of his real reason for divorcing his first
wife, so this example doesn't undermine the distinction made
above. Collier's second example (about the odious politician) also trades on
confusing reasons with motives. If an individual doesn't know the reason
why they believe a story, then there isno reason (in sense (2a))
why they do, only possible motives for so doing (2b).
Having said that, Collier's response does nothing to erode the clear distinction
drawn above between intentions and motives. Unless we suppose Henry VIII wasn't
in control of anything he did, he can't fail to have known his intentions, what
he aimed to by what he did. That is quite different from him knowing what his
motives were, or what his real motives were. He might not have known
either of these, but then again he might have known one or both of them. But he
can't have been unaware of what he aimed to do, what his intentions were. With
respect to intentions, there is no "might have", or "might not have", here. If
someone does something intentionally, that is the same as saying they knew what
they were doing. Let us suppose that footballer (soccer player), MN,
intentionally kicks opponent, NP. The intention here was to kick NP,
but the motive might have been, say, jealousy. The referee, in awarding a red
card, couldn't care less about the motive, it is MN's intention that
prompts him to order MN off the pitch.
Another
serious difficulty with picturing causes as 'balance-tippers' is that it is
incapable of explaining other clear instances of causation which:
(1) Don't
involve any obvious change, let alone account for an upset
equilibrium/'balance';
(2) Are the
result of "negative causation";
(3) Involve
'disconnected' causes;
(4) Are part
of complex social changes; or,
(5) Involve
multiple causes.
[(3), (4)
and (5) clearly overlap somewhat and sometimes.]
Taking each
in turn:
(1) For
example, we might want to say that the reason (sense (2b))
that a bridge remains standing is because of its careful construction and
design, along with the properties of the materials used to build it (and, of
course, the forces operating upon that bridge and its surroundings), etc., etc.
Clearly, this sense of causation requires no reference to any balances that have
been "tipped" anywhere. And yet, this use of "cause" covers countless examples
of causation at work every day throughout the universe -- those that operate on
mountains, continents, planets and galaxies. Indeed, the cause or causes that
maintain the steady motion of the planets, stars and galaxies around their
relevant centres of rotation (or, even along their individual
world lines,
etc.) can't easily be accommodated by such highly restrictive, Bhaskarean
figures of speech.
(2) Examples
of negative causation include the following: (a) MM fell sick because he
forgot to take his medicine; (b) The forest caught fire because it hadn't rained
in six months; (c) Dialectical Wanderers lost their last soccer game because
they had five players sent off for persistently abusing the referee. It isn't
easy to see any of these as 'balance-tippers' since such causes are privations
and hence do not in any real sense exist.
(3)
Disconnected causes are those where there doesn't seem to be any obvious fact of
the matter connecting an alleged cause with its supposed effect. There are many
examples of this. [In what follows, I borrow heavily from Hitchcock (2003). See
also Schaffer (2004).]
(i)
Assassins, A and B, plan to kill victim,
V.
B takes aim and A shouts "Fire!". V overhears this, ducks
and so
B misses. Now, did A's shouting "Fire!" cause V to survive?
Had A not shouted, B
wouldn't have fired, and
V
would have lived. Then again, if V hadn't overheard the command, he
wouldn't have ducked, and so would have been killed. So, what is the
"balance-tipping" cause here?
(ii) The
probability that a woman will develop thrombosis is raised by her taking birth
control pills, but it is also raised by pregnancy. So, does the pill cause or
prevent thrombosis? If the pill "tips the balance", which way does it "tip"
things?
(iii) It
rains heavily throughout April, thoroughly soaking forest, F. In early
May, lightning hits F, but because it is still damp, the lightning strike
fails to set off a conflagration. By June, F has dried out, so that when
lightning strikes again, a fire breaks out. But, if there had been a dry April,
and thus a fire in May, there wouldn't have been one in June. So, did the April
rains cause the fire in June? Was this a "balance-tipping" cause?142a
[There are
many more examples of this sort of cause given in Hitchcock (2003).]
It could be
objected that the above aren't relevant since Collier's theory relates to the
causes underlying human action. Hence, if we are to account for those,
a successful theory must address the
material preconditions of an action and explain why a particular course of
events unfolded as it did, as opposed to some other alternative. This would
involve, for instance, a consideration of the factors that "tipped the balance"
leading to NNφ-ing instead of ψ-ing.
[Again, the
use of Greek symbols like these is explained
here.]
But, example
(i) above does in fact concern human action, as does (ii), indirectly. Anyway,
are we really meant to believe that 'balance tipping' causes only apply to human
beings? In that case, what sort of naturalistic explanation of
human action is this that divorces the alleged causes of human action from the
course of events in nature?
(4) The idea
that causes are 'balance-tippers' doesn't seem to apply to complex social
change, either. [Which, of course, makes it a useless idea when it comes to
HM.]
Consider,
for example, the question: "What caused the
Confederate States to lose the
American Civil War?" Or, more colloquially: "Why did the Confederacy lose
the Civil War?" [Where this "why" is asking for a reason as a
cause.]
Was it the
massive three-to-one superiority in manpower (not counting African-Americans,
i.e., the slave and ex-slave populations), and two-to-one superiority in
military manpower in favour of the North over the South? Or, was it the vastly
superior productive and logistic capacity enjoyed by the Northern economy? Could
it have been the divisive nature of Southern politics, where many States put
their "rights" ahead of the collective war effort? Or, could it have been the
growing dissatisfaction of Southern non-slave-owners with what came to be
seen as a "rich man's war, poor man's fight"? Maybe it was the growing
opposition to conscription in the South as the war progressed? [This isn't to
suggest that some of these factors didn't apply to the Northern war effort; for
example, the
widening opposition to the draft (which was given the 'Hollywood Treatment'
in Gangs
of New York) as the war progressed into 1863 and 1864.] Then again,
maybe it was the many slaves who defected to the North? Alternatively, could it
have been the fact that the North developed a
sophisticated telegraph communications network during the war, which allowed
strategic and tactical decisions to be communicated far more
efficiently and decisively? In contrast, the telegraph network in the South
was patchy, at best. The same could be said about the
railway system in the North. Indeed, the rail network in the South was
nowhere near as efficient -- as Wikipedia notes:
"The system was fragile and was designed
for short hauls of cotton to the nearest river of ocean post. During the war new
parts were very hard to obtain, and the system deteriorated from overuse, lack
of maintenance, and systematic destruction by union raiders.... In addition, the
Confederacy suffered from two key railroad deficiencies. The first was the lack
of a true rail network; instead, rail lines usually connected ports and river
terminals to points inland. This lack of inter-railway connections caused many
railroads to become useless once the
Union
blockade
was in place. A second concern was a
break of gauge; much of the Confederate rail
network was in the
broad gauge
format, but much of North Carolina and Virginia had standard gauge lines.
Southern railroads west of the Mississippi were isolated, disconnected, and
differed widely in gauge....
As troop movement began in earnest in May and June 1861, a crippling problem was
discovered; many rail lines terminated in towns without connecting to continuing
lines. Instead, cargo would have to be unloaded, driven across town, and then
reloaded. Soldiers, and other passengers, would often have to stay overnight to
catch a continuing train the next day. When the Confederate government attempted
to rectify this problem, they ran into local opposition. Towns preferred the
lack of connection, since it required the hiring of teamsters and populated
hotels with guests. Railroad operators, while not opposed to connecting lines,
were opposed to the possibility of sharing rolling stock with rival companies."
[Quoted from
here; accessed 16/07/2014. Only one link
added; paragraphs merged.]
Were any of
these the 'balance-tipping' cause?
Or, if we
switch to purely military matters, could it have been the death of
Stonewall Jackson (arguably the Confederacy's most able and effective
general) in May 1863 after the
Battle of Chancellorsville? Perhaps it was the North fortuitously finding
Robert E
Lee's
battle
plans before the
Battle of Antietam? Maybe it was
General Ulysses S. Grant's
brilliant Vicksburg
Campaign in 1862-63, which resulted in the fall of that city on July 4th
1863 -- a prize
Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy, called "the nail head that
holds the South's two halves together" --, allowing the North to control the
Mississippi River, and thus the heart of the Confederacy? Maybe it was the
failure of
Lt.
General Richard S. Ewell to take
Culp's Hill
on the evening of the first day of the
Battle of Gettysburg, which conceded the higher ground south of the town to
the
Army
of the Potomac. Had Ewell's corps taken that hill, the entire Union Army
would have been routed, leaving the capital, Washington, wide open to
Confederate attack. Could it have been Union
General Howard's success in holding Cemetery Hill on the first day of that
battle? Or, was it the stoic defence of
Little
Round Top by the 20th Maine led by
Colonel Joshua Chamberlain on the second day, which prevented the entire
left flank of the Union Army from being turned? Maybe it was
General George Armstrong
Custer's
cavalry charge on the last day of the battle, which prevented a Confederate
flanking move on the Union right? Alternatively, could it have been the
uncharacteristically disastrous tactics Lee employed throughout the
battle (these perhaps being motivated by his overconfidence as a result of the
major Confederate victories at
Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville over the previous six months), the worst
of which being his ordering of
Pickett's Charge on the last day of the battle, against the advice of his
senior commanders? On the other hand, maybe it was General
J. E. B.
Stuart's
dereliction of duty, which prevented Lee from obtaining crucial intelligence
about the disposition of
General
Meade's forces in the run-up to Gettysburg? Or, could it have been the
strategy and tactics employed by the three most able Northern Generals --
Ulysses S. Grant,
William Tecumseh Sherman and
Philip
Sheridan -- in the closing two years of the war? Maybe it was a result of
the policy of total war waged by these generals throughout 1864/65 --
best exemplified, perhaps, by
Sherman's march from Atlanta to the sea in the autumn of 1864, and then his
utter
devastation of South Carolina in early 1865?
Returning to
more political or logistic reasons, could it have been the fact that the North
already possessed a sophisticated bureaucracy capable of running the war,
enlisting men and collecting taxes, while the South had none to speak of, and
were forced to improvise from the start? Then again, maybe it was the political
weakness of the South, which had no identifiable political parties as such, and
thus no coherent or overall strategy that commanded the support of the majority
of the Southern population? Alternatively, perhaps it was
Abraham
Lincoln's masterful leadership of the North, and his administration's
Emancipation Proclamation, freeing the slaves?
Which one of these (and there are
many more) was the
'balance-tipper'?142b
(5) If five
men move a piano up some stairs, which one is the 'balance-tipping' cause? Do we
also include in this the stairs, the pulley and the ropes they used? As should
seem obvious, this is a highly simplified example of cooperative labour.
Good luck, therefore, to anyone brave enough to try and find the
'balance-tipping' cause of any of the following: (a) The construction of the
Pyramids; (b) The building of the
Great
Wall of China; (c) The digging of the
Suez Canal;
(d) The
Apollo Moonlanding (in 1969); (e) The construction of The World Wide Web --
or, indeed, the countless examples of collective labour (big or small) I am sure
the reader can suggest for herself.
However,
with respect to the vast majority of the things people do, this sort of analysis
would be misleading, if notincomprehensible.
In order to
make that clear, consider the following example: imagine a certain
comrade, NS, say, who has been in Party, YYYY, for 30 years, who
originally joined in order to help build a revolutionary movement with the aim
of changing the world. That was her reason 30 years ago, and let us suppose that
this reason has remained unchanged to this day. And yet, if this reason had been
a "balance-tipping" cause all those years ago, and it remained her reason during
the intervening years, and it is still the reason she would give if asked
why she is a revolutionary today, what "balanced" items are there left in her
mind that still
need "tipping" thirty years later? If this is still a valid reason for her --
and it is manifestly 'non-tipping' at present -- how were things any different
20 or 30 years ago, or at any point in the intervening years? Are we to suppose
that this comrade had been teetering on the verge of giving up revolutionary
politics at every single moment during those thirty years?
Hence, in
this clear but familiar case (involving a long term application of rationality,
and the extended direction our lives can take) reasons are manifestly not
causes -- or, at least, not "balance-tipping" causes.
Again, it
could be argued that the desires and beliefs that induced the change all those
years ago were clearly the cause of comrade NN becoming a
revolutionary, which is all that Collier requires for his modest theory to work.
Hence, those factors explain why
NN's life
altered course in the past in the way it did.
Naturally,
if that were so, we would no longer have a general theory connecting
reasons to causes -- or, indeed, any at all that links natural events to
"balance-tipping" situations -- just a particular fact about a certain
individual. Such a retreat would also contain a damaging admission: if reasons
are causes only when they are applied to dramatic changes in the direction a
particular life might take, they couldn't form the basis of a general theory of
human action. So, what are they doing in Collier's book?
It could be
objected once more that the above "retreat" to a minimalist position (with
respect to the identification of reasons and causes) doesn't imply that reasons
are causes only when they involve major life changes. [Apart from this
pro-Collier response merely amounting to a flat denial, it has little to
recommend it. I shall return to it below.]
On the other
hand, it could be argued that the reasons that operate behind even minor
decisions could be, and are in fact, governed by "balance tipping" causal laws,
which, in combination with other laws, might lend support to the view that
reasons are indeed causes.
However,
this is where this picture begins to lose whatever plausibility it might once
even seemed to possess. Consider this example:
NN decides to turn to page seven of
The Socialist (her copy being the one dated 13/12/2017. She does this at
precisely 16:01:36
GMT
on Saturday 16/12/17 in a Café in
Camden after a long and tedious paper sale. Are we really supposed to
believe that there is a causal law governing, or constituting, her
'reason' for doing this? If so, it can't be a general law -- since it
applies only to her. But, unless we now suppose that specific laws
similarly determine other examples of unique (but minor) events and
decisions -- perhaps based on a strict, one-one correlation, so that a new
law of nature is instantiated every time anyone makes the most trivial of
decisions -- no law at all could be operating in this case. Clearly, there could
be no causal law that stated that just NN would turn to
page seven when sat in just
this café in Camden after a paper sale on just that Saturday, in
just this particular year at precisely that moment in time. Nor
could such a 'law' be generalised to state that anyone else just like her,
at the same moment and in the same place, would do the same thing -- as any
half-way decent law should --, for both her and the moment are unique.
Even if this 'law' predicted (or could have been used to predict) what NN
would do and when she would do it -- ex hypothesi --, it couldn't apply
to anyone else who wasn't identical with her. That is, it couldn't apply
to MM sat in that very same café in Camden after a paper sale on just
that Saturday, in just this particular year at precisely that
moment in time unless
MM was identical to NN. But, no one can do exactly what NN
did, and be subject to this 'law', unless two or more individuals can occupy
exactly the same regions of space and time (and perhaps also have identical
brain chemistry/world-lines).
In which case, this 'law' would be a
'law' that applied uniquely to NN at that precise moment in time,
and to no other. But, why should we want to call that a "law" as opposed to a
unique event? And if it isn't a law, how then might we justify the use of the
word "cause" here? How would it be different from
mere coincidence, or from an
adventitious event?143
It could be
argued that the above is a spurious objection because the said comrade did what
she did for no specific reason, even though it was a voluntary action. However,
all we need to do is alter the details slightly to neutralise this worry.
Suppose NN turned to page 7 because she wanted to read a letter she had
sent to the paper. The rest then applies as before.
It could
further be objected that this sort of analysis would in fact mean that no
event in the history of the entire universe would be subject to causal law.144
That is because, on this view, they must all be regarded as unique in some
respect or other, since all events in fact take place at specific times and
places and are subject to one-off individuating circumstances. So, if every
event is an irreducible
particular, then none of them could be governed by a general causal law.
Of course, events may be grouped in many ways; for example, they can be arranged
into
types, and it is this that allows us to say that as a
token
of a set of type events they are governed by this or that law. But, there
could be no type law that applied to just these specific
circumstances, and for the above reasons. Once more, in the example concerning
NN, only those occupying the same regions of space and time, and who were
identical to NN, would be subject to the above 'law' -- even if it
were a type law.144a
Even if that
were so, no DM-enthusiast could either appeal to it or accept it, for not
only would such a view necessitate an appeal to the
LOI (overtly or covertly: by the explicit or implicit use of the phrase
"same law", "same set of events", or "identically the same person"), it would
undercut their commitment to the belief that everything is 'mediated' by
everything else in the entire universe. If everything were 'mediated' in this
way, then everything would be the cause of everything else, and we would
have the exact obverse
of the view rehearsed above. And, if that
were the case, we ought to argue that comrade NN turned to the said page
at just that moment (etc., etc.) because of the "Big Bang", and be done with it.
Naturally, such an admission (that events can't be categorised by the use of the
word "law") wouldn't be unwelcome news for anyone who agrees with the views
expressed at this site. If philosophical theories are indeed both non-sensical
and incoherent (as is argued in Essay Twelve
Part One), then it makes no sense to suppose that there are 'laws of nature'
(in the
metaphysical sense of that phrase), and thus, a fortiori,
that there are any such that could feature in a metaphysical theory of the
overall course of nature.145
Indeed, this observation would underline
the claim made in Essay Thirteen Part Two that 'laws of nature' aren't something
we discover as a result of a scientific (or even a philosophical)
analysis of the universe (nor are they something that brute matter 'obeys' of
its own will -- anthropomorphically,
as it were). They belong to various "forms of representation", which enable us
to make sense of the universe for our own purposes. [On "forms of
representation", see
Note 29.]
Indeed, far
from it being the case that reasons are causes, it now turns out that causes
form part of the reasons we give for why things happen, just as they form
part of a (hypothetically) valid account of the course of events in
nature. Hence, the former can't be used to explicate the latter without
undermining our ability to explain anything at all.
In that
case, it is little wonder that Collier's metaphysical view of causation, and
every other such theory, so readily collapses into incoherence. [More on this
below.]
Admittedly,
it might seem to some that the above is unfair to Collier, if not itself being
dogmatic and aprioristic. In which case, it could be argued that Collier's
account is far more sophisticated than has been suggested in previous sections.145a
Collier's theory not only covers other relevant, but much more fundamental,
topics, it does so from an overtly scientific angle.
Or so an
objector might argue...
In that
case, it might prove worthwhile to examine Collier's 'see-saw' theory of the
mind in more detail to find out if it is workable at any level.
"What does it mean to say that reasons
can be causes? Bhaskar suggests that:
'When something is cited as a cause it
is, I think, most typically being viewed as that factor which, in the
circumstances that actually prevailed, "so tipped the balance of events to
produce the known outcome"…'…." [Collier (1994), p.152. Quotation marks altered
to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.]
To state the
obvious, a balance situated in relevant a force field moves when the
moment
of one force on one side of the
fulcrum, or centre of rotation (real or theoretical), exceeds that of any
other forces opposing it on the opposite side -- or on the same side if
orientated in an opposite sense. However, if this picture isn't just another
inappropriate metaphor for the way the mind functions, we need to ask whether
there is anything analogous to a 'fulcrum' situated in the brain or mind of the
decisive and the indecisive alike. So: Does the mind possess anything resembling
a 'fulcrum'? Can it even be pictured as if it did? Do 'mental causes'
have moments about this metaphorical point? Do certain beliefs work on the 'same
side' of the supposed fulcrum as others -- or on 'opposite sides', only in the
'reverse direction' ('clockwise' or 'anti-clockwise', as the case may be)? Can
we multiply a cause by its distance from this 'fulcrum' to obtain the 'moment of
a reason'? Does the mind even have a 'moment
of inertia', such that, when set in motion, we can express it as a sort of
metaphorical
vector?
If not, what sense can be given to the word "balance" in this context? Indeed,
what content does the verb "to tip" have when applied to rationalisations?
[At this
point, it is worth reminding ourselves that this way of speaking about the
'mind' harks back to ancient,
mystical Greek ideas
about "rational" and "irrational" 'souls'.]
Of course,
we already use the word "balance" (and other related terms) to depict mental
health in general. We say things like the following:
B1: NP committed suicide while
her mind was unbalanced.
B2: NM has become totally unbalanced; he now works for the Tories.
B3: On balance, I think I'll take the
train.
B4: Having weighed things up, MM
decided to join the strike.
And so on.
Nevertheless, the question remains: Is there the least suggestion that there are
causal influences at work here?
Let us
suppose that there is just such a "least suggestion"; indeed, let us
further suppose that there is a set of neural events (or even 'emergent mental
processes') that could cause any or all of the events listed above (if we but
knew what they were). In that case, how are we to characterise them? Perhaps in
the following way?
B5: The set of neural events, E,
caused NN to φ.
B6: The set of mental or psychological
events, M, caused NN to ψ.
[Where
"φ" and "ψ" are dummy letters standing for verb phrases expressing
actions of the relevant sort, such as "run for a bus", or "reject dialectics as
incoherent".]
But, what
kind of analysis of causation is this? If, for example, one or both of
E and
M is/are to be regarded as
Humean-type causes (i.e., either E or
M are shorthand descriptions of regularities, or perhaps are
psychological associations),145b
they wouldn't be the kind of causal agents Collier had in mind. That is because
E and M might be present and NN could fail to φ
or to ψ.
What Collier
needs if his theory is to work is some sort of natural necessity linking
causes to effects (reminiscent of Kant and Hegel's response to Hume, considered
in more detail in Essay Seven
Part Three) -- and that is precisely what we find:
"It will be clear that
transcendental realism involves a notion
of natural necessity that is not reducible to regular succession. It agrees with
commonsense that to say that A makes B happen is to say more than that A-type
events are generally followed by B-type events…. Here I want to spell out what
the 'extra' is, and in doing so meet the objection that any such extra must be
unwarranted by the evidence…. Bhaskar's first marker for this element
is the word "power", which is itself empirical enough -- it merely indicates
what a given kind of thing can do, given the right conditions: dogs can bark,
aeroplanes can fly, cricket balls can smash green houses, and so on. So far, the
objector is going to say, nothing has really been added: how does 'Rectory Ale
sends you to sleep because of its dormative power' differ from 'Rectory Ale
sends you to sleep'?… [T]he stratified nature of explanation, and the dynamic
nature of scientific enquiry, making each result the next matter for
investigation, give empirically justifiable content to the non-empirical part of
causal claims. Effects are ascribed to causal powers, causal powers to the inner
structure…of the causal agent. The 'extra' in the causal power is just this
structure…." [Collier (1994), pp.59-60; paragraphs merged.]
But, no
Humean of any intelligence is going to be impressed with this -- indeed, Hume
himself criticised the use of the term "causal powers" as a way of explicating
causation, which Collier has just re-discovered (as I am sure he is well aware).145c
Nevertheless, the novel feature Collier introduced here is an appeal to
'micro-states' (i.e., "inner structure(s)") to explain "powers". Even so, it
might well be wondered what it is about such states that could possibly turn a
regular conjunction of events into a 'necessitating' cause. How does causal
necessity emerge from any state of matter -- howsoever large, small, simple
or complex it is? How does any such state bind or direct the future? Collier
doesn't say, and it is doubtful whether he or anyone else can.146
Just in case
the above conclusion should strike the reader as a little too glib, it might be
wise to consider the details a little more carefully, perhaps by means of the
following:
B7: A
causes B because of microstate, M1.
But, what is
it about
M1
that would necessitateB? Perhaps it is the following?
B8: M1
necessitates B because of a causal law, L1.
But this
won't do, since the whole point of introducing
M1
in the first place was to explain causation and the necessitating power of
causal laws. It couldn't do this if it depends on a causal law itself. We
will have just argued in a circle!
Suppose then
that we try the following:
B9: L1
is a causal law because it depicts or involves the operation of force, F1.
But, "force" is just as obscure a notion
as "power" ever was. And we can't now appeal to further micro-states to account
for forces on pain of generating an infinite regress.147
At this
point, advocates of 'natural necessity' have only two options left open to them.
(1) They
could appeal to some sort of 'rational' (i.e., in Bhaskar's case,
"transcendental") principle to bridge this gap in their theory -- abandoning the
'empirical' constraint they originally sought and claimed existed. [We
saw Kant and Hegel (and then Lenin) do this in Essay Seven
Part Three.]
Or,
(2) They
could try to re-define 'natural necessity' as a sort of mathematical, logical,
or quasi-logical 'necessity' -- perhaps motivated by the modern (but in fact,
ancient) practice of reifying the mathematical structures scientists use in
order to construct models of the world -- re-christening it, perhaps,
"metaphysical necessity" in order to bamboozle the easily bamboozled.
Unfortunately, the second of these options isn't viable. Mathematical necessity
has no connection to "objective reality" in this respect. If it had, then
plainly we should have another pseudo-explanation. That is because, if natural
necessity were predicated on mathematical necessity, and it turned out that the
latter had been derived
from the natural world itself -- perhaps, by means of the process of
'abstraction' -- then mathematical necessity would be based on 'natural
necessity', not the other way round.
On the other
hand, if mathematical necessity is based on an ideal relationship that is
alleged to exist between ethereal objects in an 'abstract' or 'Platonic Realm',
then the nature of necessity would be even more obscure. That is because, on
this account, the necessary connection that was supposed to exist between
material objects would now be re-configured in terms of a relation between
abstract objects located in this 'abstract' or 'Platonic Realm', which is
itself supposed to mirror the 'natural necessity' operating between material
objects in this world! That would lock this 'explanation' in another circle --
and a thoroughly mysterious one, to boot. Indeed, if there is already a problem
about the nature of 'natural necessity' in this world, an appeal to even
more obscure forms of metaphysical or mathematical necessity in an invisible
world wouldn't constitute much of an advance. How exactly one abstract object
can necessarily constrain or command the properties or behaviour of another
still remains to be explained (unless, of course, we suppose once more that
these abstract ideas or objects are themselves 'mind-like'). Failing that, these
Platonic 'necessities' would have to be seen as merely brute -- i.e.,
non-rational, and thus contingent -- facts about ethereal 'objects' like these,
or even about how we conceive them. But, the whole point of this retreat into
the Ideal was to locate the various 'essences' that explained the brute
contingency we supposedly see in material reality, as a disguised form of
'natural' necessity, in order to short-circuit an appeal to Humean contingency!
If so, it would imply that such 'abstract' or Platonic 'objects' are just as
contingent and brute as their this-worldly correlates ever were --,
which disconcerting fact undercuts any reason we might have had to go beyond the
material world in order to account for contingency in the first place!
In short, an
appeal to mathematical necessity would be of little help in explaining 'natural
necessity' if it turns out that it relies on a mystical correlate of it.
In
connection with this, the reader is re-directed to a passage that was quoted
earlier:
"Empirical,
contingent
truths have always struck philosophers as being, in some sense, ultimately
unintelligible. It is not that none can be known with certainty…; nor is it that
some cannot be explained…. Rather is it that all explanation of empirical truths
rests ultimately on brute contingency -- that is how the world is! Where
science comes to rest in explaining empirical facts varies from epoch to epoch,
but it is in the nature of empirical explanation that it will hit the bedrock of
contingency somewhere, e.g., in atomic theory in the nineteenth century or in
quantum mechanics
today. One feature that explains philosophers' fascination with
truths of Reason
is that they seem, in a deep sense, to be fully intelligible. To understand a
necessary proposition is to see why things must be so, it is to gain an
insight into the nature of things and to apprehend not only how things are, but
also why they cannot be otherwise. It is striking how pervasive visual metaphors
are in philosophical discussions of these issues. We see the universal in
the particular (by Aristotelian intuitive induction); by the Light of Reason we
see the essential relations of Simple Natures; mathematical truths are
apprehended by Intellectual Intuition, or by
a priori insight. Yet instead of examining the use of these arresting
pictures or metaphors to determine their aptness as pictures, we build
upon them mythological structures.
"We think of necessary propositions as
being
true or false, as objective and independent of our minds or will. We
conceive of them as being about various entities, about numbers even
about extraordinary numbers that the mind seems barely able to grasp…, or about
universals, such as colours, shapes, tones; or about logical entities, such as
the
truth-functions
or (in Frege's
case) the
truth-values.
We naturally think of necessary propositions as
describing the features of these entities, their essential characteristics.
So we take mathematical propositions to describe mathematical objects…. Hence
investigation into the domain of necessary propositions is conceived as a
process of discovery. Empirical scientists make discoveries about the
empirical domain, uncovering contingent truths; metaphysicians, logicians and
mathematicians appear to make discoveries of necessary truths about a
supra-empirical domain (a 'third
realm'). Mathematics seems to be the
'natural history of mathematical objects' [Wittgenstein
(1978), p.137], 'the physics of numbers' [Wittgenstein (1976), p.138; however
these authors record this erroneously as p.139 -- RL] or the 'mineralogy of
numbers' [Wittgenstein (1978), p.229]. The mathematician, e.g.,
Pascal,
admires the beauty of a theorem as though it were a kind of crystal.
Numbers seem to him to have wonderful properties; it is as if he were
confronting a beautiful natural phenomenon [Wittgenstein (1998), p.47; again,
these authors have recorded this erroneously as p.41 -- RL]. Logic seems to
investigate the laws governing logical objects…. Metaphysics looks as if it is a
description of the essential structure of the world. Hence we think that a
reality corresponds to our (true) necessary propositions. Our logic is
correct because it corresponds to the laws of logic….
"In our eagerness to ensure the
objectivity of truths of reason, their sempiternality
and mind-independence, we slowly but surely transform them into truths that are
no less 'brutish' than empirical, contingent truths. Why must red exclude
being green? To be told that this is the essential nature of red and green
merely reiterates the brutish necessity. A proof in arithmetic or geometry seems
to provide an explanation, but ultimately the structure of proofs rests on
axioms. Their truth is held to be self-evident, something we apprehend by
means of our faculty of intuition; we must simply see that they are
necessarily true…. We may analyse such ultimate truths into their constituent
'indefinables'. Yet if 'the discussion of indefinables…is the endeavour to see
clearly, and to make others see clearly, the entities concerned, in order that
the mind may have that kind of acquaintance with them which it has with redness
or the taste of a pineapple' [Russell
(1937), p.xv (this links to a PDF); again these authors record this
erroneously as p.v; although in the edition to which I have linked, it is
p.xliii -- RL], then the mere intellectual vision does not penetrate the logical
or metaphysical
that to the why or wherefore…. For if we construe necessary
propositions as truths about logical, mathematical or metaphysical entities
which describe their essential properties, then, of course, the final products
of our analyses will be as impenetrable to reason as the final products of
physical theorising, such as
Planck's constant."
[Baker and Hacker (1992), pp.273-75. Referencing conventions in the original
have been altered to conform with those adopted at this site.
Italic
emphases in the original; links added.]
Hence, it
seems that if we scratched a devotee of 'natural necessity' hard enough, we
would invariably uncover a Pythagorean/Platonist, a Platonic Realist (i.e., a
non-slippery,
but more honest, Hegelian), or even a
Kantian Transcendental
Idealist
lurking below the surface. Indeed, that is precisely what we find in the
writings of Roy Bhaskar, Andrew Collier and other 'Critical Realists'. But, as
the above confirms, even these rationalists have to fall back on brute
facts (contingencies) at some point to account for their assumed 'rational'
principles, vitiating the whole exercise. It is just a brute fact about us, so
they allege, that we think along these lines, with these concepts
and categories. Of course, they might be tempted to present us with 'rational'
or 'necessary' principles that inform us that we can think in no other way, but
even that will be a brute fact about how we (or, rather, they) use
certain words -- and they would be
distorted words, at that!
Of course,
Collier seems to be aware of this criticism, for he says:
"…[N]atural necessity must surely,
exist, if anywhere, in things independent of us, yet it is being presented as
supplied entirely by the human mind…. If the real structure of nature, and its
consequent necessities, do not make…structured theories essential to their
explanation, the structured theories must be more or less gratuitous. We must
either retreat to the flatlands of Humean succession of impressions, or advance
to a theory of real structures generating real necessities." [Collier (1994),
p.61.]
However,
apart from a bluff rejection
of Hume's account of causation -- along with a veiled reference to the alleged
'gratuitousness' of
Conventionalism
-- Collier offers little (or no) justification for his introduction of the
phrase "natural necessity", and neither does he succeed in dispelling the
suspicion that the latter is the product of yet another
reification of language.
As noted
earlier, such a
fetishisation of
discourse only seems to work
because it misconstrues the products of the social relations among human beings
as the real relations between things, or as those things themselves. Integral to
this archaic and 'time-honoured error', linguistic categories are projected back
onto reality with specialist terminology (drawn from human interaction) thrown
in for good measure -- such as: "necessity", "law", "obey", "rational", and, in
the case of dialectics, "mediation", "contradiction" and "negation", etc., etc.
Because of
this, it is no surprise to see human traits staring back at us from the Ideal
world constructed by means of this fetishisation! It is even less of a surprise
to see this in the work of modern-day Hegelians (be they from the upside down
fraternity or the 'right way up' tendency), since Hegel turned word-magic like
this into an art form. [More on this in Essay Three
Part One.]
To be sure,
Collier motivated his argument by dismissing the relevant theories found in
Empiricism and
Idealism
(pp.70-106), but there is nothing else in his book (as far as can be
ascertained) that presents even a weak case
for
the acceptance of "natural necessity".
Far worse,
even if he were correct, Collier offers little to help the bemused reader
understand what the phrase "natural necessity" could possibly mean. Is he
serious (is anyone who has ever used this term serious?) that
objects and processes force
other objects and processes to do their bidding? Is every particle in nature at
once both a ruthless tyrant and docile slave, bully and victim rolled into one?
Do they impose themselves on one another, but then meekly fall into line
whenever this is done in return to them, as the various causal chains in nature
and society unfold? Does each and every object and process involved 'understand'
its role in this intergalactic, sadomasochistic dance? If not, why use
confusing, anthropomorphic concepts (such as "power", "force", "law", "rational"
and "obey") in such contexts,
and pretend to mean anything literal
by them?
Hence,
Collier's attempt to re-package Bhaskarean 'transcendental realism' fails
miserably. We are still
owed an account of 'natural necessity' that goes beyond mere phrase-mongering
-- that is, we are owed an explanation that waves "goodbye" to the constant
conjunction
of the words "natural" and "necessity" by those who have developed a distinctly
Humean Habit
of talking this way.
At this
point, the unconvinced among us might be forgiven for wondering what all this
has to do with an analysis of mental causation. If E or M
(from
earlier) caused NN to φ, or
to ψ, then how would that explainNN's actions? Alas, given
the account under review here, it couldn't. That is because we still don't
possess a 'philosophical' account of causation that isn't itself based on
the projection of intelligent aims and
intentions onto nature -- that is, one that isn't predicated on yet another
fetishisation
of language -- and which doesn't thereby treat the products of social
interaction as if they represented the real relations between things.148
Even if
Collier's account were acceptable, his theory of causation couldn't be explained
without an appeal to "structural" principles (at whichever micro-level
his
Scientific Realism finally gives out -- i.e., at the level where 'realists'
finally have to throw their hands in the air and appeal to the "brute facts" of
nature, mentioned in the long quotation
above). But, "structural" principles can't themselves necessitate
anything. As noted earlier, to suppose otherwise would commit us to the idea
that matter is alive and sentient (and thus is capable of volitional action,
being able to 'understand' and 'obey' the laws that govern it -- which,
naturally, would picture matter as an agent in its own right). Either
that, or it would require an acceptance of the belief that natural laws
themselves can somehow 'coerce matter' into obeying their dictates (thus turning
'laws' into agents). On both accounts, this would suggest that events are
governed by some sort of Intelligence or Will. From this it is but a short step
to the circular argument that human action has been explained by projecting
human capacities back onto reality -- as we saw in relation to the
Homunculus Fallacy, above.
In the end,
this theory implies that reasons are causes because causes are reasons --
that is, it is based on the idea that every particle in nature recognizes and
understands the causal law that governs it and acts in accord with its
dictates, and with good reason,when it complies with, and 'obeys', that causal law! Either that, or it
implies that reason itself has been
hypostatised
in nature so that 'it' can induce causation by the 'sheer power of its will'.
But, how is it able to do this? By the strength of its personality? Or, perhaps
by its ability to change things and move them about the place by the use of
magical words? Can 'reason' simply materialise and push things around
in a seemingly intelligent manner?148a
The irony is
that although Collier's theory seems to be committed to a view of
'consciousness' that depends on the existence of an intelligent agent in our
heads to whom things are 'represented', in reality it is based on an even
more ancient idea: that intelligence and rationality is found throughout nature,
and not just inside our skulls!
The universe is thus OneBig Mind, and causation represents the
operation of itsReasononourinner 'reason'.
Again,
as above, so below. The microcosm isn't just a reflection of the macrocosm, it is controlled by it!
This, of
course, accounts for the ever-present Bhaskarean appeal to 'transcendental
principles' to knit his artificial system together; since matter can't act with
reason, reason must lend to matter its active "powers". Nature is
re-enchanted thereby. The metaphysicalrequirement
for there to be some sort of 'natural necessity' running the show thus becomes
the mother of its own invention -- as, indeed, Collier argued:
"…[N]atural necessity must surely,
exist, if anywhere, in things independent of us, yet it is being presented as
supplied entirely by the human mind…. If the real structure of nature, and its
consequent necessities, do not make…structured theories essential to their
explanation, the structured theories must be more or less gratuitous. We must
either retreat to the flatlands of Humean succession of impressions, or advance
to a theory of real structures generating real necessities." [Collier (1994),
p.61.]
None of this
is
the least bit surprising since Collier has appropriated far too many ideas from
Bhaskar, who in turn sold his radical soul long ago to that arch-mystic, Hegel.
Hence, it is hardly surprising, either, to see Bhaskar return to the Mystical
Swamp from whence his mentor's ideas originally slithered.149
Once more,
we can see that the alleged materialist flip Marxist dialecticians say
they have performed on Hegel's system was all
smoke
and mirrors.
Despite what
they say, it would seem that Critical Realists like Collier have yet to
come to terms with Hume's analysis of causation. Without an appeal to the
existence of infinite clusters of hidden intelligences programmed to run like
mini-computers (somewhat analogous to the
Monads
of
Leibniz's system), or
perhaps without reference to 'The Big Idea' that runs the show (akin to the
'development' of Hegel's 'Absolute' -- or, in the form it now assumes as the NON
in DM) --, Critical Realists finds they have no account of causation capable of
generating
the required necessity short of using the (by-now-familiar and powerful)
magictrick of putting a few 'scare quotes' around a handful of ordinary words,
inventing yet more jargon, drawing several intricate diagrams and flow charts,
and just toughing things out.
[NON = Negation of the Negation.]
To be sure,
Collier's exposition of Hume (whose theory was itself based on an implausible
version of
associationist psychology
and an un-workable atomistic theory of language) only succeeds in undermining
the
epistemological foundations of Hume's theory of causation; it doesn't affect
the latter's overall case against the explanatory capacity of "powers", "forces"
and "necessitating causes". In this regard, however, it is rather odd that
Collier failed to
mention (let alone discuss) contemporary versions of Hume's theory, or any
of the 'ordinary language' accounts of causation he indirectly derides. Both
alternatives show that if necessity originates anywhere, it arises from
the language we use to formulate explanations, models and theories of the world,
not from nature itself. Collier pointedly failed to address this awkward,
but highly salient, fact.150
What then
are we to make of Collier's claim that reasons are causes (as part of his
response to Wittgenstein's alleged insistence to the contrary)? It now
turns out that there is little reason to accept either his or Bhaskar's analysis
of causation, and every reason to reject them both -- as confused at best,
incoherent and anthropomorphic, at worst.
For it now
seems clear that if, given Bhaskar and Collier's views, reasons are
causes, and causes are themselves underpinned by 'natural necessity', then
causes are in fact reasons in disguise.
Of course,
this means that until we are given good reason not to do so, Bhaskar's
unbalanced theory needs
tipping into a dumpster.151
I don't
propose to respond to Trevor Pateman's criticisms of Wittgenstein in the present
version of this Essay. Much of what he has to say depends on accepting Noam
Chomsky's implausible, dogmatic, fanciful and quasi-metaphysical theory that
there exists a "language
acquisition device" [LAD], which works in tandem with "transformational
grammar" (now replaced by "unbounded
Merge")
underlying discourse -- alongside a host of other "likely
stories".
Geoffrey Sampson
has recently written a clear and accessible demolition of some of the central
(empirical and conceptual) foundations of Chomsky's theory (as well as those of
other 'nativist' theorists, like
Bickerton,
Fodor and
Pinker).151aFiona
Cowie
has done likewise with the alleged philosophical and scientific support for
Nativism.152
This includes the specific areas that seem to impress Collier the most -- i.e.,
those connected with the
creolisation of
pidgin
dialects and the seemingly miraculous linguistic capabilities of children born
to deaf parents, to which Pateman also refers in order to 'refute' the so-called
Wittgensteinian
private language argument [PLA].153
Nevertheless, it isn't with empirical issues such as these that I wish to take
issue...
[I will add more details here in a later
re-write of this Essay.]
This process
was analysed in more detail in Essay Twelve
Part One and Part Two (not yet published -- a summary of which can be found
here).
It is
possible to trace this notion (i.e., that eternal verities can be derived from
thought alone) at least as far back as
Plato who,
because he was an arch traditionalist, would surely have been retailing ideas
that were already in circulation (see
below). In the
Theaetetus, for example, he argued as follows:
"Soc. But must not the mind, or
thinking power, which misplaces them, have a conception either of both
objects or of one of them?
"Theaet. Certainly.
"Soc. Either together or in succession?
"Theaet. Very good.
"Soc. And do you mean by conceiving, the same which I mean?
"Theaet. What is that?
"Soc. I mean the conversation which the soul holds with herself in
considering of anything. I speak of what I scarcely understand; but the
soul when thinking appears to me to be just talking -- asking questions of
herself and answering them, affirming and denying. And when she has arrived
at a decision, either gradually or by a sudden impulse, and has at last agreed,
and does not doubt, this is called her opinion. I say, then, that to form an
opinion is to speak, and opinion is a word spoken, -- I mean, to oneself and
in silence, not aloud or to another: What think you?
"Theaet. I agree."
[Plato
(1997b), p.210. However, I have used
Benjamin Jowett's on-line version, not the one found in Plato (1997b). Bold
emphases added.]
Similar
ideas were expressed in another of his dialogues, the
Sophist (in this case, the exchange is between the
Eleatic Stranger
and Theaetetus himself):
"Str. And therefore thought, opinion,
and imagination are now proved to exist in our minds both as true and false.
"Theaet. How so?
"Str. You will know better if you first gain a knowledge of what they are, and
in what they severally differ from one another.
"Theaet. Give me the knowledge which you would wish me to gain.
"Str. Are not thought and speech the same, with this exception, that what is called thought is the
unuttered conversation of the soul with herself?
"Theaet. Quite true."
[Plato
(1997c), pp.287-88. Once again, I have
quoted Benjamin Jowett's on-line version, not Plato (1997c). Bold emphases
added.]
[Details
concerning other Ancient Greek thinkers (including Aristotle) who took a similar
line can be found in Sorabji (2004), pp.205-26. For Aristotle's theory of
language and meaning, see Modrak (2009). This isn't to suggest, of course, that
Aristotle's theory of 'the
mind' is the same a Plato's; far from it. See also the opening pages of Hacker (2012)
(quoted here), a
passage I have quoted
from Hacker (2013a), and a video of Hacker on this topic, posted
here.
This subject
is also connected with the idea that there is something called
"non-propositional thought", a notion beloved of mystics the world over -- the
belief that the 'soul' can directly apprehend
esoteric, or 'ineffable,
truths' about 'God' and 'Ultimate Reality' without the mediation of language,
which meant that this could be done 'free' of social constraint,
especially that exercised by the 'lower orders'. [The Eleatic Stranger above
doesn't appear to believe this, though. On this, see also Sorabji (2005),
pp.90-93, Sorabji (1982), and
Alfino (1988) (which is a response to Sorabji (1982)). On 'Divine
Illumination', see
Pasnau
(2015).]
For such
mystics, language is only able to "intimate" these 'unfathomable truths'
indirectly:
"One of the best-known facts about
mystics is that they feel that language is inadequate, or even wholly useless,
as a means of communicating their experiences or their insights to others. They
say that what they experience is unutterable or ineffable. They use language but
then declare that the words they have used do not say what they want to say, and
that all words as such are inherently incapable of doing so.
"According to the
Mandukya Upanishad
the unitary consciousness is 'beyond all expression'. According to
Plotinus,
'the vision baffles telling.' In a passage which I shall quote more at length
later,
Eckhart
says that 'the prophets walking in the light...sometimes were moved to...speak
of things they know...thinking to teach us to know God. Whereupon they would
fall dumb, becoming tongue-tied.... The mystery they found there was ineffable.'
"And modern Europeans and Americans who report having had mystical experiences
feel the difficulty just as much as do the ancient or classical mystics.
R.
M. Bucke
says that his experience was 'impossible to describe'.
Tennyson says that his was 'utterly
beyond words'.
J.
A. Symonds
states that he 'was not able to describe his experience to himself' and that he
'could not find words to render it intelligible'.
Arthur
Koestler
says of his experience that 'it was meaningful though not in verbal terms' and
of his own [p.278] attempts to describe it that 'to communicate what is
incommunicable by its nature one must somehow put it into words, and so one
moves in a vicious circle.' Probably hundreds of similar statements could be
collected from all over the world." [W T Stace, Mysticism and Philosophy,
quoted from
here. Quotation marks altered to conform
with the conventions adopted at this site. Links added.]
Indeed, Hegel's system itself was ultimately based on esoteric
flights-of-fancy
like these, masquerading as some sort of 'dialectical logic', the contemplation
of which supposedly led the human 'soul' into mystical union with 'Being'/'God'.
[This
ancient notion later resurfaced in Engels's work in what appeared to be an
outwardly secular form (on that, see
here and Note 1a, below).]
Indeed, the
esoteric language Hegel himself used
suggests, to those who dote on jargon like this, that there are 'ineffable
truths' that lie beyond language, toward which Hegel and those who follow him
can only hope to grope, and which can be grasped (in howsoever an attenuated
form) by those who 'understand' dialectics -- i.e., exclusively those
capable of contemplating these 'ineffables' directly via the 'concepts' to which
Hegel alluded, as opposed to the actual words he used, but by no one
else.
Of course, that is only to be expected of
genuine
mystics, or, indeed, expected of the aspiring DM-Mystics who litter
Dialectical Marxism.
This
helps explain why so many dialecticians express a liking for
Daoism and/or
Buddhism, and why some even revert to open and honest mysticism (Michael
Kosok,
Roy Bhaskar,
Andrew Collier, Graham Priest, and
Terry Eagleton perhaps being the latest examples). Indeed, the tendency for
radicals to become mystics is what motivated Lenin to write
MEC. This also
explains why Counterfire, home of leading Dialectical Marxists and
ex-members of the UK-SWP, can publish an article extolling the virtues of
Buddhism, even roping Marx himself in this! On that, see
Ledwith (2023). It
also explains why dialectician extraordinaire,
Graham Priest,
accepts some form of Buddhism. On that, see here
and Priest (2014).
Then there is this unfortunate
video about Buddhism
and Science, by Priest. In addition, he has written about
the use of "contradictions" in Buddhism; cf., this
on-line article by Yasuo Deguchi, Jay
Garfield and Graham Priest (this links to a PDF). No wonder he also has a
penchant for Hegel and the latter's dalliance with "contradictions".
[The is
more on this
below, as well as in Essays Nine
Part Two and Fourteen Part One (a
summary of the latter can be found
here).
I have said more about the connection between Daoism and 'dialectics' in Essay
Three Part Two. A detailed
survey of the close link that exists between Daoism and Maoist 'Dialectics' can
now be accessed here.]
This is
something that Voloshinov himself acknowledged, without perhaps fully realising
the full significance of that admission:
"There was good reason why thinkers in
ancient times should have conceived of inner speech as inner dialogue...."
[Voloshinov (1973, p.38. Italic emphasis in the original.]
There is a
useful summary of 'western', mystical ideas about the 'soul', and the links this
time-worn tradition enjoys with contemporary 'science of mind' in Leahy (2005).
In fact, concerning the claims advanced above,
Leahy had this to say:
"Western conceptions of mind began in
religion before moving first to philosophy, and then to science. However,
for two reasons psychologists have underestimated the influence of religious
ideas of the soul -- the ψυχή
(psychē)
of our science -- on conceptions of mind and self. First, psychology is an
aggressively secular enterprise and psychologists like to think that they put
religion behind them when they assume their role as scientists. A more subtle
reason concerns the dominance of historical scholarship by Christian belief.
When we as psychologists read about past thinkers such as Plato and
Descartes,
not only do we look at them as protopsychologists, we see them through the eyes
of historians and classicists who until recently worked within a quietly but
unequivocally held Christian framework. That framework rarely intrudes
explicitly, but it filters out the rough splinters, odd conceptions, and obscure
but vital disputes concerning mind and soul held from Greek times through to at
least Descartes. Thus we psychologists inherit a conception of the mind
subtly shaped by forces of which we know little, drain it of its
specifically supernatural content (e.g., survival of bodily death), and fancy
that what remains is somehow natural and therefore a proper object of
science....
"Although there are differences in
detail, religions around the world have a remarkably concordant picture of the
mind, positing the existence of two immaterial souls for two distinct reasons....
The first, universal reason is to explain the difference between living and
nonliving things. The second, less universal reason is to explain human
personality....
"Greek religion and the concept of ψυχή
underwent a profound change in the later fifth century BCE.... Traditional Greek
religious thought had insisted on a great gulf between the human and divine
worlds, downplaying the idea of personal immortality. However, in the wake of
the
Peloponnesian War, continuity between the human and divine worlds was
the theme of various new cults, often imported from the non-Greek east. In their
practices these new religions induced in worshippers ecstatic states through
which they might for a time join the gods, perhaps even briefly becoming the god
of their veneration. The ψυχή
became a personal, immortal soul, taking after death its rightful place in the
divine world of the gods. Plato was influenced by these new teachings, but
steered them in a less ecstatic, more philosophical and cognitive direction....
For Plato, the proper object of the soul's attention was indeed something
divine, but he taught that instead of seeking salvation through ecstatic
communion with the gods, the soul should seek salvation through philosophical
pursuit of eternal, transcendental Truth. In Plato's hands, the mind became
identified with reason, the ability to formulate and know the universal Truths
underwritten by the heavenly Forms."
[Leahy (2005), pp.37-39. Bold emphases added.]
"There are few names to which more diverse persons and disciplines lay claim
than the term 'Hermetic.' Alchemists ancient and contemporary apply the
adjective 'Hermetic' to their art, while magicians attach the name to their
ceremonies of evocation and invocation. Followers of
Meister
Eckhart,
Raymond Lull,
Paracelsus,
Jacob Boehme,
and most recently
Valentin
Tomberg
are joined by academic scholars of esoterica, all of whom attach the word
'Hermetic' to their activities.
"Who, then, was Hermes, and what may be said of the philosophy or religion that
is connected with him? The early twentieth-century scholar
Walter
Scott, in his classic edition of the
Hermetic texts, writes of a legend preserved by the Renaissance writer
Vergicius:
'They say that this Hermes left his own country and travelled all over the
world…; and that he tried to teach men to revere and worship one God alone, …the
demiurgus
and genetor [begetter] of all things; …and that he lived a very wise and pious
life, occupied in intellectual contemplation…, and giving no heed to the gross
things of the material world…; and that having returned to his own country, he
wrote at the time many books of mystical theology and philosophy.'
"Until relatively recently, no one had a
clear picture of either the authorship or the context of the mysterious writings
ascribed to Hermes. Descriptions such as the one above are really no more than a
summary of the ideal laid down in the 'Hermetic' writings. The early Christian
Fathers, in time, mostly held that Hermes was a great sage who lived before
Moses and that he was a pious and wise man who received revelations from God
that were later fully explained by Christianity. None mentioned that he was a
Greek god....
"The British scholar R. F. Willetts wrote that 'in many ways, Hermes is the most
sympathetic, the most baffling, the most confusing, the most complex, and
therefore the most Greek of all the Olympian gods.'
If
Hermes
is the god of the mind, then these
qualities appear in an even more meaningful light. For is the mind not the most
baffling, confusing, and at the same time the most beguiling, of all the
attributes of life?...
"Hermes became best known as the swift messenger of the gods. [Later
known as the
Roman 'god' Mercury
-- RL.]
"Hermes is thus of a double origin. His grandfather is
Atlas,
the demigod who holds up heaven, but
Maia,
his mother, already has a goddess as her mother, while Hermes' father,
Zeus,
is of course the highest of the gods. It is tempting to interpret this as saying
that from worldly toil (Atlas), with a heavy infusion of divine inspiration,
comes forth consciousness, as symbolized by Hermes.
"Versatility and mutability are
Hermes' most prominent characteristics. His specialties are eloquence and
invention.... The common quality in all of these is again consciousness, the
agile movement of mind that goes to and fro, joining humans and gods, assisting
the exchange of ideas and commercial goods....
"While Hermes is regarded as one of the
earliest and most primitive gods of the Greeks, he enjoys so much subsequent
prominence that he must be recognized as an archetype devoted to mediating
between, and unifying, the opposites. This foreshadows his later role as master
magician and alchemist, as he was regarded both in Egypt and in Renaissance
Europe....
"The Greek Hermes found his analogue in Egypt as the ancient Wisdom God
Thoth
(sometimes spelled Thouth or Tahuti)....
"Thoth played a part in many of the myths of Pharaonic Egypt: he played a role
in the creation myth, he was recorder of the gods, and he was the principal
pleader for the soul at the judgment of the dead. It was he who invented writing
[and
philosophy
-- RL]....
"Most importantly, perhaps, for our purposes, Thoth acted as an emissary between
the contending armies of
Horus
and
Seth
and eventually came to negotiate the peace treaty between these two gods. His
role as a mediator between the opposites is thus made evident, perhaps
prefiguring the role of the alchemical Mercury as the 'medium of the conjunction.'...
"It was to this powerful god that the Egyptian Hermeticists of the second and
third centuries A.D. joined the image and especially the name of the Greek
Hermes. From this time onward the name 'Hermes' came to denote neither Thoth nor
Hermes proper, but a new archetypal figure,
Hermes Trismegistus, who combined the
features of both....
"From a contemporary view, the figure of Hermes, both in its Greek and its
Egyptian manifestations, stands as an archetype of transformation through
reconciliation of the opposites. (Certainly
Jung
and other archetypally oriented psychologists viewed Hermes in this light.) If
we are inclined to this view, we should rejoice over the renewed interest in
Hermes and his timeless gnosis. If we conjure up the famed image of the swift
god, replete with winged helmet, sandals, and
caduceus,
we might still be able to ask him to reconcile the divisions and
contradictions of this lower realm in the embrace of enlightened consciousness."
[Quoted from
here,
minor typo corrected; accessed 10/10/2013. Quotation marks altered to conform
with the conventions adopted at this site. Bold emphases and links added.]
This
tradition therefore linked human thought (or, rather, the theories and musings
of boss-class ideologues and mystics) with the 'Mind' of 'God', via
'consciousness', philosophy, and esoteric 'contemplation'.
In
connection with these new doctrines,
Alfino (1988) exposes the link that exists between (i) the
Identity Theory of Predication [IDP] (see below), (ii)
"non-propositional thought" and (iii) the mystical ideas that emanated forth
from the works of the leading
Neoplatonist,
Plotinus,
second only to Hegel himself as this entire tradition's
most
influential ideologue.
As Sara
Rappe notes:
"Plotinus anticipates Descartes in
arguing both that the soul as subject of perception cannot be an extended
substance, as well as in arguing that the mind necessarily knows itself.
Like Descartes, Plotinus also invokes an introspective or subjective stance
within his dialectical procedure." [Rappe (1999), p.250. Bold emphasis
added.]
[The rest of
Rappe's article explores the close affinities that exist between Descartes and
Plotinus.]
Not only was
Hegel profoundly influenced by these
Neoplatonists, he also imported the IDP from Medieval theologians and then
used it to motivate his 'theory' that 'contradictions' and 'negation' power the
development of 'Being'.
[This was
discussed in detail in Essays Three
Part
One and Eight Part Three;
see also
here.]
In fact, two out of the three volumes of
Hegel's
Lectures on the History of Philosophy were devoted to Ancient Greek
Thought -- one volume of which concentrates on Plato and the Neoplatonists.
[Hegel (1995a, 1995b); Hegel's comments on Plotinus appear in Hegel (1995b), pp.404-431.]
As noted
above, the
speculative trope about the "mystical union" of the
'mind', or 'soul', of the philosophical Knower and the Platonic (or, later,
Hermetic
'Unknown'),
subsequently re-surfaced as the 'problem' of "Subject/Object
Identity", which became the main problematic of
German Idealism.
Rappe again:
"For
Plotinus, any representation of the self
or subject of consciousness can never be complete and can never succeed in
conveying the self that it purports to represent. The fallibilism of any such
conveyance is a consequence of Plotinus's more general theory of knowledge
according to which
truth cannot be ascertained by means of linguistic
or conceptual representations. It can be apprehended only when there is an
identity between the
knower and the known." [Ibid., p.253.
Bold emphasis added.]
Knowledgeable readers will no doubt have noticed the similarity between this
form of Western Mysticism and Eastern, meditative religions and philosophies --
for instance,
this
and
this --, which isn't surprising in view of the fact that these ideas
originated in the East (as Leahy, for
example, pointed out).
As this
Essay proceeds the following themes will unfold:
(1) Concepts
connected with Platonic-Christian-Cartesian theories of 'Mind', or 'Soul', have
come to dominate western thought (and, as it turns out, 'Materialist
Dialectics', too), albeit expressed in diverse idioms at different times;
(2) The
doctrine that 'thought' precedes language -- which idea has resurfaced
these days in
Cognitive Science -- coupled with the notion that there can be such a thing
as 'languageless thought', is an archaic dogma that still mesmerises modern
theorists -- and that includes DM-theorists, too.
[These
claims might
at first sight
seem somewhat controversial, but they will be substantiated throughout this
Essay.]
So, once
again, we see another set of "ruling ideas", which have dominated, and still
dominate, thought 'East' and 'West', confirm Marx's assessment:
"The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e.
the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its
ruling intellectual force.
The class which has the means of material production at its disposal, has
control at the same time over the means of mental production, so that
thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the means of mental
production are subject to it. The ruling ideas are nothing more than the ideal
expression of the dominant material relationships, the dominant material
relationships grasped as ideas; hence of the relationships which make the one
class the ruling one, therefore, the ideas of its dominance. The individuals
composing the ruling class possess among other things consciousness, and
therefore think. Insofar, therefore, as they rule as a class and determine the
extent and compass of an epoch, it is self-evident that they do this in its
whole range, hence among other thingsrule also as thinkers, as
producers of ideas, and regulate the production and distribution of the ideas of
their age: thus their ideas are the ruling ideas of the epoch." [Marx
and Engels, The German Ideology,
pp.64-65. Bold emphases added.]
[Exactly
how
such "ruling ideas" are connected with the 'justification' and rationalisation
of class power will be explored in Essays Twelve and Fourteen (summaries
here and
here).]
[For Hegel's
ideas (which are related to the mystical union of the 'soul' with
'God'/'Being'), see Magee (2008).
For the Greek end of this sorry tale, see Burkert (1972, 1985), Guthrie (1950),
Onians (2000), Otto (2001), Owen (1966/86) -- particularly, pp.207-11 (i.e., of
the 1986 version) --, Robinson (2008), pp.1-16, and Snell (1982). On Plotinus,
see Armstrong (1970b), Clark (1999), and Gerson (1994). On
Augustine, see Copleston (2003), pp.40-90, Markus (1970) and Teske (2001).
The best general on-line articles on this are
Lorenz
(2009), and
Shields (2016).]
[On the more recent origin of 'psychological jargon' see Danziger (1997) --
although, Danziger doesn't put things this way! On this theme (which runs
through the entire course of German Mysticism (oddly enough, including
Wittgenstein's early
work -- however, on Wittgenstein's alleged 'mysticism', see
here)), cf., Weeks (1993). For the social origin and function of these
myths, see Harrison (1989) and Vernant (1990). The verbal tricks performed by
Ancient Greek Philosophers in order to concoct their fanciful theories are
exposed in Barnes
(2009),
Havelock (1983), Kahn (1994, 2003), Lloyd (1971), and Seligman (1962) --
although, these authors don't put things this way, either! This strand of
'western' ruling-class thought is traced from Ancient Greek times up to the
Enlightenment in Wright and Potter (2000).]
Of course, it is important to
emphasise that there certainly were other ways of conceiving of the 'soul' in
Ancient Greece, theories which were incompatible with the Platonic tradition.
The theory developed by
Aristotle and subsequent Aristotelian
philosophers' (also known as "hylomorphism"
-- where the 'soul' was held to be the 'form' of the body, etc.) were quite
distinct. But this theory created almost insurmountable difficulties for
Christian Aristotelians (like
Thomas
Aquinas) when they attempted to reconcile it with Church Dogma, and who had
to face frequent accusations of "heresy" as a result.
[On Aristotle's views see Everson
(1995), and Guthrie (1990), pp.277-330. On the controversies in the Roman
Catholic Church, see Copleston (2003); on Aquinas, see Kenny (1994), and
Kretzmann (1993). (See also
here.) It is clear, however, that the Platonic view of the 'soul' in the end
'won the day', Pasnau (2002).]
It is also important to point out
that the easy equation of words for 'Mind' and 'Soul' in fact distorts the
complex connection that exists between these two 'concepts' in ancient texts
(for example, in Aristotle's writings). We are on much firmer ground when we try
to understand these terms as they feature in doctrines circulating in the post-Augustinian
period, and more particularly in the post-Cartesian era.
[On this, see for instance, Matson
(1966). Also see, Hacker (2012,
2013). I have quoted the opening two pages of the latter,
here.]
Representationalism was a dominant
ideology in the Middle Ages, too. On this, see Hallett (2008), pp.25-32. The
modern period will be covered in Essay Twelve Part Seven (not yet published).
However, an excellent survey of this theme, as it runs like a thread through the
history of 'western' thought, can be found in Sokolov (1975), pp.11-33.
Even so, Scott Soames sums up what
might be called the currently dominant view of the nature of language, in the
following terms:
"[T]he central semantic fact about language
[is]...that it is used to represent the world." [Soames (1989), quoted in
Chomsky (2000a), p.132.]
Since the seventeenth century,
however, and under the influence of early bourgeois theorists (like
Hobbes,
Locke and
Descartes), the "Cartesian
Paradigm"
has come to dominate philosophical and scientific thought -- and, what is more,
its main features have remained largely unchallenged to this day.
On that, see Coulter (1993, 1997),
Coulter and Sharrock (2007), Hacker (2007a), pp.233-56, Hacker (2012,
2013a),
Read (2008),
Robinson (2008) -- Robinson's book is in fact entirely devoted to the analysis
and criticism of this Paradigm, both in its older Platonic form (see
above) and in its more modern Cognitive Science/Cartesian re-incarnation --,
Ryle (1949a
(this links to a PDF), Shanker (1987d, 1996b),
Savage-Rumbaugh, Shanker and Taylor (1998), pp.77-138 (although the latter draws
conclusions about animal 'thought' that are diametrically opposed to the
approach adopted in this Essay). See also the detailed study in Chomsky (2009a)
-- however, on that, cf., Note 1d,
below. The Platonic and Cartesian origin of Chomsky's theory of language are
explored in detail in Knight (2016a). On this, see, for example, Chomsky (1988),
pp.3-6, 24-27, 138-52. On Descartes himself, see Cottingham (1992) and Williams
(1990). I have to say that even though I profoundly disagree with Williams's
defence of Descartes's project, it is an admirably clear study from which I have
learnt much. For a Wittgensteinian criticism of Descartes's approach to 'the
mind' (and upon which I have based many of my own ideas), see Kenny (1992,
1993), although readers shouldn't assume I agree with everything Kenny has to
say. There is also an extended discussion of this Paradigm (and Wittgenstein's
arguments against it) in Wilson (1998) -- although Wilson concentrates largely
on Locke's version of it. [See also Note 2.]
Medieval views of 'the mind' were largely dominated by Aristotle's theory. A
paradigm shift occurred when Descartes reoriented philosophical psychology back
toward the even more archaic
Augustinian-Platonic tradition.
[On this,
see
Hacker (2012) (this links to a PDF), and Hacker (2013a). Again, I have
reproduced the opening two pages of the latter,
here.]
Anthony
Kenny neatly summarises this Dominant Paradigm and its widespread influence in
the following terms:
"Descartes's view of the nature of mind
endured much longer than his view of matter. Indeed among educated people in
the West who were not professional philosophers it is still the most widespread
view of the mind. Most contemporary philosophers would disown Cartesian
dualism but even those who explicitly renounce it are often profoundly
influenced by it. Many people, for instance, go along with Descartes in
identifying the mental realm as the realm of consciousness. They think of
consciousness as an object of introspection; as something we see when we look
within ourselves. They think of it as an inessential, contingent matter that
consciousness has an expression in speech and behaviour. Consciousness, as
they conceive it, is something to which each of us has direct access in our own
case. Others, by contrast, can only infer to our conscious states by
accepting our testimony or making causal inferences from our physical
behaviour." [Kenny (1992), p.2. Bold emphases added; paragraphs merged.]
"In philosophy, ever since Plato, the mainstream
opinion has been that the mind is the organ of thought; thinking is what the
mind is for, and we act as we do because we think what we do." [Fodor
(2011), p.24. Bold emphasis added.]
As Bennett
and Hacker note:
"Philosophical
reflection on human nature, on the body and soul, goes back to the dawn of
philosophy. The polarities between which it fluctuates were set out by Plato and
Aristotle. According to Plato, and the Platonic-Christian tradition of
Augustine, the human
being is not a unified substance, but a combination of two distinct substances,
a mortal body and an immortal soul. According to Aristotle, a human being
is a unified substance, the soul (psuchē) being the form of the body.
To describe that form is to describe the characteristic powers of human beings:
in particular, the distinctive powers of intellect and will that characterize
the rational psuchē. Modern debate on this theme commences with the
heir to the Platonic-Augustinian tradition: namely, the Cartesian conception of
human beings as two one-sided things, a mind and a body. Their two-way causal
interaction was invoked to explain human experience and behaviour.
"The greatest
figures of the first two generations of twentieth-century neuroscientists, e.g.,
Sherrington,
Eccles and
Penfield, were avowed
Cartesian dualists. The third generation retained the basic Cartesian structure,
but transformed it into brain–body dualism: substance dualism was abandoned, but
structural dualism retained. For neuroscientists now ascribe much the same array
of mental predicates to the brain as Descartes ascribed to the mind, and
conceive of the relationship between thought and action, and experience and its
objects, in much the same way as Descartes -- essentially merely replacing the
mind by the brain. The central theme of our book was to demonstrate the
incoherence of brain–body dualism, and to disclose its misguided
crypto-Cartesian character. Our constructive aim was to show that an
Aristotelian account, with due emphasis on first- and second-order active and
passive abilities and their modes of behavioural manifestation, supplemented by
Wittgensteinian insights that complement Aristotle's, is necessary to do justice
to the structure of our conceptual scheme and to provide coherent descriptions
of the great discoveries of post-Sherringtonian cognitive neuroscience."
[Bennett and Hacker (2008), pp.240-41. Bold emphases and links added. Italics
in the original.]
So, the
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm still dominates Cognitive Science, and as
we will see throughout this Essay (especially
here) -- despite their erstwhile rejection of dualism -- DM-theorists
en masse have bought into this paradigm in one form or another (largely
thanks to Hegel).
Representationalism is
part-and-parcel of this view of 'the mind' and remains another dominant paradigm
in Cognitive Science, as the following author points out:
"The
notions of computation and
representation are not just common currency in cognitive science
modelling. To put it mildly, they are the building blocks of the
discipline. Alternative voices from a number of subdisciplines that call
into question these notions have periodically been raised. Unfortunately, after
an initial, and usually short, excitement they remain quiet. Silence is due
mainly to two reasons. On the one hand, the dominant paradigm
overwhelms competitors
(sometimes due to 'pragmatic' considerations) with data already accounted for
and results to be accounted for, and on the other hand, alternative framings are
repeatedly absorbed and made innocuous. Both reasons are interrelated.
Alternatives raised, by default, carry the burden of proof in such a way thatthe dominant paradigm is the one that chooses what phenomena are in
need of explanation.... Problems start when the what limits the
range
of options available when it comes to answering the how." [Garzón
(2008), pp.259-60. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.
Bold emphases alone added.]
In relation
to this,
Hilary
Putnam notes the following about contemporary Philosophy of Mind:
"...[V]irtually no philosopher doubted, from the time of
Locke
until roughly 1914, that, whatever concepts and ideas were, they were clearly
mental objects of some kind. And no large-scale and comprehensive demolition job
was done against this particularly wide-spread and influential philosophical
misconception until
Wittgenstein produced his
Philosophical Investigations...." [Putnam (1975b), p.7.]
As Richard
Rorty also points out in relation to the views of those who agree with
Wittgenstein (which group he calls "Pragmatic Wittgensteinians"):
"Pragmatic Wittgensteinians tend to be
historicist in their metaphilosophical views. They think that the problems of
pre-Kantian metaphysics, the problems that the naturalists [this is Rorty's term
for those who reject Wittgenstein's approach to philosophy -- RL] have revived,
are hangovers from a particular moment in Western intellectual history. These
problems originate not in a clash between common sense and science, but rather
between the immaterialist notions that Christian theology had inherited from
Plato and Aristotle and the mechanistic and materialist world-picture sketched
by Galileo and Newton. That clash was between metaphysical outlooks, not between
metaphysics and a pre-metaphysical understanding of things.
"This clash produced the Cartesian notion of ideas as appearances on the
stage of an inner theatre, as well as the Lockean account of words as signs of
such ideas. More generally, it produced a picture of knowledge as the
attempt to acquire accurate mental representations of non-mental reality.
Representationalist accounts of the relation between language and non-language
emerged from the attempt to divide language into assertions that represent real
things and those that do not. On this historicist view, Wittgenstein's
importance lies in his having helped wrench us out of our Cartesian-Lockean
mind-set." [Rorty (2010), p.132. Bold emphasis added. Readers should note the
caveats concerning Rorty's work posted
here.]
In that
case, according to the traditional Platonic-Christian-Cartesian approach,
'mental objects' and 'concepts' are antecedent to discourse, a doctrine
that is integral to
Representational Theories of Mind and Language. This paradigm sees language
as primarily an "instrument of thought", not of communication, as
Chomsky
himself acknowledged:
"If so, then it
appears that language evolved, and is designed, primarily as an instrument of
thought. Emergence of unbounded
Merge in human
evolutionary history provides what has been called a 'language of thought,'
an internal generative system that constructs thoughts of arbitrary richness and
complexity, exploiting conceptual resources that are already available or may
develop with the availability of structured expressions. If the relation to the
interfaces is asymmetric, as seems to be the case, then unbounded Merge provides
only a language of thought, and the basis for ancillary processes of
externalization." [Chomsky
(2007), p.22. This links to a PDF, access to which is open, but
requires free registration.]
"It seems that we must either deprive the notion
'communication' of all significance, or else we must reject the view that the
purpose of language is communication.... It is difficult to say what 'the
purpose' of language is, except, perhaps, the expression of thought, a rather
empty formulation." [Chomsky (2005a), p.230. I owe this reference to
Millikan (2005b), p.24. However, Millikan must
have been using a different edition, since my copy reads as I have reproduced it
above, but not as Millikan has represented it. Quotation marks altered to
conform with the conventions
adopted at this site. Bold
emphases added.]
"Now let's take language. What is its characteristic use?
Well, probably 99.9 percent of its use is internal to the mind. You can't go a
minute without talking to yourself. It takes an incredible act of will not
to talk to yourself. We don't often talk to ourselves in sentences. There's
obviously language going on in our heads, but in patches, in parallel, in
fragmentary pieces, and so on. So if you look at language in the way biologists
look at other organs of the body and their subsystems -- so you take into
account all its functions in talking to yourself -- what do you get? What are
you doing when you talk to yourself? Most of the time you're torturing
yourself.... So you might think you're being conned, or asking why does this
person treat me that way? Or whatever. So you could say that the function of
language is to torture yourself. Now, obviously, that's not serious....
"In fact, a very tiny part of language is externalized --
what comes out of your mouth, or from your hands if you're using sign. But
even that part is often not used for communication in any independently
meaningful sense of the term 'communication'...the overwhelming mass of language
is internal; what's external is a tiny fraction of that [and what's used in
communication in some serious sense is a smaller fraction still]. As functions
are usually informally defined, then, it doesn't make much sense to say that
the function of language is communication." [Chomsky (2012a), pp.11-12,
quoted in
Behme (2014a) pp.6-7.
I haven't yet been able to check this particular book of Chomsky's.]
These
comments place Chomsky firmly in the Idealist, Platonic-Christian-Cartesian
camp. [On this, see Note 1d,
below.] Notice how Chomsky has to appeal to "inner speech", and what looks
suspiciously like an anecdotal form of it, too. However, Chomsky failed
to say where he obtained the figure of 99.9%; but, even supposing he were only
half right, that wouldn't show that the primary function of language doesn't lie
in communication, as Christina Behme points out:
"The blinkers of my car are in off mode
most of the time, and they can be used for several purposes (signalling slow
speed when driving on the highway, signalling change in direction, greeting a
friend, entertaining my kids, etc.). At times they are misleading (when I forget
to cancel them after a turn or change my mind about turning), and there are
other means to signal a change in direction.... Yet, uncontroversially, the
function of the blinkers is to signal my intention to change direction." [Behme
(2014b), p.682.]
Indeed, my
car is parked outside my flat for long periods (I estimate that it is there well
over 90% of the time), but that doesn't imply I was wrong to enter its main use
as "social and leisure purposes" on my insurance application form. I certainly
didn't even think to describe its use as "the occupation of a parking space",
even though that is what it does most of the time.
Pieter Seuren also makes the following not insignificant points:
"Sober reflection on the well-known fact
that sentences, and therefore also their token realizations as utterances, never
come without a speech act component immediately makes the communicative function
of the language faculty stand out among any other functions it may have.
Likewise for the obvious fact that the external motor-perceptual component has
been considerably adapted in the course of recent evolution to the production
and perception of speech sounds and hence public use...." [Seuren (2004),
p.135.]
This helps
account for the emphasis placed on Wittgenstein's work at this site, especially
in relation to the topics discussed in this Essay; for, as Putnam noted,
Wittgenstein was the first leading philosopher to challenge these "ruling ideas"
(even though he, too, wouldn't have put things this way!). Of course,
this also helps explain Chomsky's (and
Fodor's) unwavering hostility toward Wittgenstein, as the following
commentator noted:
"The
basis for this dislike by
Chomsky
is surely to be found in a difference between a Cartesian and a social view
of language. Fortunately one does not have to speculate here. As it has been
most clearly accepted and claimed by Fodor (1975; 1980) among the Chomskyans,
according to them the whole mind has to be understood in a
solipsistic
way.
Mental states have to be interpreted in themselves, and in the same way,
rules have to be interpreted just as properties of the isolated, self contained
system of the individual mind." [Pleh
(no date). This link connects to a downloadable .DOC file. Bold
emphases added.]
However, as
noted in Essay Three
Part Two,
just like the proverbial
Humpty
Dumpty, fragmented discourse -- predicated on an atomised
linguistic base
by theorists like Descartes, Locke, and now Chomsky and Fodor -- can't easily be
put back together again, no matter how many incantations theorists like Hegel
(and Voloshinov) utter over its dismembered corpse.
[The serious
implications of this ideologically-motivated wrong turn will emerge as this
Essay unfolds.]
In that
case, this tradition isn't a natural hunting ground for Marxists to go in search
of kindred spirits, even though far too many have been seduced by these
Platonic-Cartesian-Chomskyan "ruling ideas".
[Some might
wonder how "ruling ideas" can rightly be attributed to a noted left-wing
theorist like Chomsky. However, as we have seen, even card-carrying Marxist
classicists like Engels, Plekhanov, Lenin and Trotsky found themselves importing
"ruling ideas" into the workers' movement. (Why they all do this
is explained in Essay Nine
Part Two.) On Chomsky, see Knight
(2003,
2005,
2006,
2007a,
2007b,
2007c,
2010a,
2010b,
2011, 2016a,
2016b). On representational theories of perception, see Travis (2004).]
1a.
This finds echo in Engels's thoughts on
the matter:
"The great basic question of all philosophy, especially of more recent
philosophy, is that concerning the relation of thinking and being." [Engels
(1888), p.593.]
To be sure,
Engels might genuinely have believed he was discussing the alleged relation
between 'thought' and 'reality', but the philosophical dice had already been
heavily loaded against him. As a result his ideas are also firmly located within
the Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm,
noted above. [More on that in Essay Twelve
(summary,
here).]
1b.
Augustine
asserted the following: "Return to yourself. Truth dwells within" (quoted in
Pasnau (2002), p.208).
Thomas
Aquinas concurred: "Truth is only in the mind" (quoted in Hallett (2008),
p.26). Compare that with what Aquinas's teacher,
Albertus
Magnus, had to say: "Truth and falsehood in speech are signs of truth and
falsehood in the soul" (quoted in Hallett (2008), p.190, note 8). Hence, words
were merely the means by which we communicate these
already-formed, private thoughts to others.
1c.
In this Essay, I will be
concentrating solely on these two competing views of the role of
discourse:
representation versus
communication. This isn't to suggest that there aren't other important
uses of language (e.g.,
interrogative,
imperative,
optative,
expressive, and creative -- or, indeed, its socially cohesive role, etc., etc.),
or that there aren't political dimensions to language (explored, for
example, in Holborow (1999). Far from it. However, the above two historically
dominant approaches to language seem to me to be the most pertinent to the aims
of this Essay, and this site.
1d.
It is no surprise, therefore, to learn that perhaps the most influential
theorist in this area, Chomsky, chose to call one of his major works "Cartesian
Linguistics", subtitled "A Chapter in the history of rationalist thought";
i.e., Chomsky (2009a).
Even so,
Chomsky's version of the history of linguistics hasn't met with universal
acceptance; quite the reverse in fact. On this, see Aarsleff (1970). [Chomsky's
rather irascible reaction to such criticism is recorded in
Behme (2014b), pp.686-92,
and Knight (2018), i.e., the
Preface
to the second edition of his 2016).]
2.
On modules, see Note 52a. Of
course, this ignores 'neural
nets'; I will say more about this side-issue in a future re-write of
this Essay.
Plainly, this
amounts to what is in effect a bourgeois division of 'mental labour'
-- perhaps best represented in the work of
Daniel
Dennett (with his emphasis on
dim algorithms) -- illustrating, maybe, the free market degradation of the
human psyche
in its most acute form. So, according to Dennett, de-skilling has hit a brain
near you!
[On that, see for example, Dennett (1995), pp.53-60.] When Harry
Braverman wrote his classic study of the deskilling of work in late capitalism,
I'm not sure he envisioned a process of 'mental de-skilling' underway at the
same time! [Braverman (1999).]
This way of looking at the 'mind' and the
algorithms
it is supposed to run wasn't, of course, invented by Dennett, but goes back at
least as far as
Turing
(however, see below); it now occupies an important role in modern versions of
the dominant
Cartesian Cognitive Paradigm; in place of
Descartes's "thought" and "mind", read "algorithm" and "module". [What was that
about a rose by any other name?]
[This Paradigm is criticised in Shanker (1998), pp.1-62. See also Shanker
(1986c, 1987a, 1987b, 1987c, 1988, 1995, 1996b). Cf., also Bennett and Hacker
(2022), pp.34-38, 470-91, and Hutto (1997). On Dennett, see
Note 54, Note 97, as well
as
here. However, the best Marxist
discussion of this is still Robinson (2003b).]
In fact,
this notion
is undoubtedly an echo of Ancient Greek
ideas about the rational 'soul, the cosmic order, psychical "balance", and the
connection these had with ratio -- hence the word "rational" --, numbers
and geometry -- especially in theories concocted by Plato, the
Pythagoreans
and the
Stoics. On that, see for example,
Furley (1973), Kenny (1973b), and Holland (1980b). Later, we will see this
ancient doctrine re-surface in theories of 'mind' concocted by the so-called "Critical
Realists".
Nevertheless, the aim of this computational approach to the 'mind' appears to be
to reduce 'mental processes' to mechanically executed, 'simple algorithms' that
require 'no intelligence' to run, and which don't therefore involve anyone, or
anything, attending to meanings (hence, once more, they operate
independently of, and prior to, language, even in an evolutionary sense),
nor do they require the application of any kind of reasoning. Of course, this
change of emphasis was an essential move in the development of computers, but it
has nothing to do with the way human beings think, as John
Haugeland points out:
"Reasoning (on the computational model) is the
manipulation of meaningful symbols according to rational rules (in an integrated
system). Hence, there must be some sort of manipulator to carry out those
manipulations. There seem to be two basic possibilities: either the manipulator
pays attention to what the symbols and rules mean or it doesn't. If it
does pay attention to the meanings, then it can't be entirely mechanical --
because meanings (whatever exactly they are) don't exert physical forces. On the
other hand, if the manipulator does not pay attention to the meanings, then the
manipulations can't be instances of reasoning -- because what's reasonable or
not depends crucially on what the symbols mean. In a word, if a process or
system is mechanical, it can't reason; if it reasons, it can't be mechanical."
[Haugeland (1985), p.39. Italic emphasis in the original. I owe this
reference to Shanker (1988), p.252. Paragraphs merged.]
This is
somewhat reminiscent of Gilbert Harman's argument against representationalism,
summarised
below.
2a0.
Or, if we are enjoined by EPs
like Richard Dawkins to resist the machinations of our
genome, we
must be more than the product of our genes. But, if that is so, what
could this 'something more' possibly be, given this deterministic view human
nature?
[On this,
see Stove (2005), pp.172-97. Readers should, however, read the warning I have
posted about Stove, here.
I will say more about Dawkins and his 'selfish genes' in Essay Three Part Five
-- in the meantime, see
here.]
"By the end of World War II, a new
paradigm for the scientific understanding of human development had emerged. For
a variety of reasons...the idea that human nature is the preeminent force at
work in shaping the character of a person and the contours of her life had given
way to a resolute
empiricism.
For the first time since the
Enlightenment..., experience, and not our innate endowment, was
universally accorded the primary role in the making of ourselves and our
society. By the time of the
war in
Vietnam, however, the newly resurrected empiricist orthodoxy was
being challenged by a vigorous resurgence of
nativism
[a set of doctrines involving
Innatism and a belief in
Universal Grammar, etc. -- RL]. Far from
playing a minor role in the making of a person, human nature was again taken to
be the chief factor at work in determining the nature of people and the milieux
in which they live.
"Today, 'Nativism Rules, OK'. In both
the popular and academic presses. books and articles claiming to have found a
'substantial genetic basis for,' or 'instinct for,' or even 'the gene for,' a
variety of traits and behaviours have proliferated. Features as diverse as
scholastic performance, sexual orientation, violence, 'altruism, compassion,
empathy, love, conscience, the sense of justice,' poverty, alcoholism and other
substance abuse, susceptibility to diseases, sexual mores, the desire to rape
women, the attainment of concepts, language use, even attitudes toward divorce
and religion -- features that were formerly held to be substantially under
environmental control -- are now routinely claimed to be largely, if not wholly,
innate....
"Nativism's potential for affecting profound changes in our views about
ourselves and our society is already becoming apparent. The nativist's shift of
explanatory emphasis from the environment to the genes -- or from the knowable
and the manipulable to the imponderable and immutable -- seemingly supports the
more general shift in sociopolitical attitudes that is occurring as the
twentieth-century lurches to a close. The growing obsession here [i.e., in the
USA -- RL] and abroad with racial, national, and sexual differences; the widely
perceived failure of social welfare programs to cure society's ills; the newly
fashionable backlash against attempts to enforce ideals of equality and civil
rights; the calls for a reinstatement of 'traditional morals' and 'family
values'; the nostalgia for a time when everyone had a place and knew that place
and stayed in it -- these kinds of views find a fertile seeding ground in the
New Nativism. Conservative politicians, moralists, and jurists apparently find
overwhelming the inference from 'innate' to 'right' and 'inevitable.' If the
poverty and violence of our inner cities are coded in the
genotypes
of their inhabitants, then the government programs aimed at ameliorating these
conditions are pointless. If poor scholastic performance among minority children
is a consequence of their substandard genes, then forget about
Head
Start
and other educational reforms. If the kind of serial monogamy practices in our
society destroys some men's biological 'right' to reproduce, then we should
tighten the divorce laws. If women are by nature less aggressive than men, and
if aggression is a factor in achieving social status and economic success, then
sexual inequality and the 'glass
ceiling' are here to stay. And so on."
[Cowie (2002), pp.vii-xi. Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions adopted at this site; spelling changed to UK English; minor typo
corrected. Links added. (By the way, Cowie added references to nativist
literature in support of the claims she made about Nativism.)]
"Male supremacy misrepresents all women as genetically inferior, manipulative
and stupid and reduces them to their reproductive or sexual function -- with sex
being something that they owe men and that can or even should be coerced out of
them.
Driven by a biological analysis of women as fundamentally inferior to men,
male supremacists malign women specifically for their gender.
Their thinly veiled desire for the domination of women and their conviction that
the current system oppresses men in favour of women are the unifying tenets of
the male supremacist worldview." [Quoted from
here; accessed 08/03/2018. Bold emphasis added; spelling modified to agree
with UK English.]
Update October 2024: Readers might
like to check out this entertaining 2024 video that shows how EP has taken over
the political (anti-'woke') right and the misogynistic 'Manosphere'
Video Five: EP Debunked
In
connection with this, it isn't surprising to see
Dawkins now promote and
praise as "utterly superb" a book by far right Tory ideologue,
Douglas Murray, which
argues in favour of the Nazi-inspired,
Great Replacement Theory.
But, Dawkins's future political trajectory was abundantly clear to anyone who
read his first book, The Selfish Gene, with open eyes [i.e., Dawkins
(2006)]. If it wasn't they weren't really paying attention.
2b.
Some might consider this claim somewhat dubious, but they would be wise to
shelve those doubts until Essay Twelve Part Two has been published. Until then
they should consult the background details in Essay Twelve
Part One, and here.
3.
This will form the main topic of Essay Twelve Parts Two, Three and Seven
(summary
here).
Of course, that is to express this topic
in a contemporary idiom! Nevertheless, as the above Essays will show,
philosophers, priests and assorted ruling-class ideologues have concocted a
range of
esoteric
vocabularies and specialised
lexicons, invented in order to give voice to their dogmatic theories --
but, and more importantly, in order to rationalise the interests of their
patrons -- the elite, the rich and the powerful.
To be sure,
these theories have changed their content many times -- sometimes dramatically
-- in accord with the rise and fall of each successive Mode of Production, and
as the exigencies of the class struggle required. But, the form these theories
have taken has remained largely the same for over two millennia: that behind
'appearances' there exists an invisible world,
which is accessible to thought alone and which impervious to empirical
investigation, a hidden world that is more real than the physical
universe we see around us.
Some might object that philosophical ideas can't
have remained the same for thousands of years, across different Modes of
Production, since that would run counter to core ideas in
HM. But, we don't argue the same for religious belief. Marx put no time
stamp on the following, for example:
"The foundation of irreligious criticism is:
Man makes religion, religion does not make man. Religion is, indeed, the
self-consciousness and self-esteem of man who has either not yet won through to
himself, or has already lost himself again. But man is no abstract
being squatting outside the world. Man is the world of man -- state,
society. This state and this society produce religion, which is an inverted
consciousness of the world, because they are an inverted world.
Religion is the general theory of this world, its encyclopaedic compendium, its
logic in popular form, its spiritual point d'honneur, its enthusiasm, its
moral sanction, its solemn complement, and its universal basis of consolation
and justification. It is the fantastic realization of the human essence
since the human essence has not acquired any true reality. The struggle
against religion is, therefore, indirectly the struggle against that world
whose spiritual aroma is religion.
"Religious
suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering
and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the
oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless
conditions. It is the opium of the people." [Marx
(1975c), p.244.
Italic emphases in the original.]
The above
remarks applied back in Babylon and the Egypt of the Pharaohs, just as they did
in Ancient China and the rest of Asia, The Americas, Greece, Rome and throughout
Europe, Africa, Australasia, and as they have done right across the planet ever
since.
The same is true of the core thought-forms that run through Traditional
Philosophy: that there is an invisible world, accessible to thought alone --,
especially since Marx also argued that:
"[P]hilosophy is nothing else but religion
rendered into thought and expounded by thought, i.e., another form and
manner of existence of the estrangement of the essence of man; hence equally to
be condemned...." [Marx
(1975b), p.381. Bold emphasis
added.]
And:
"[O]ne
fact is common to all past ages, viz., the exploitation of one part of
society by the other. No wonder, then, that the social consciousness of past
ages, despite all the multiplicity and variety it displays, moves within certain
common forms, or general ideas, which cannot completely vanish except with the
total disappearance of class antagonisms. The Communist revolution is the
most radical rupture with traditional property relations; no wonder that its
development involved the most radical rupture with traditional ideas." [Marx
and Engels (1968b), p.52. Bold emphases added.]
This, of course, helps explain why Marx thought this
entire discipline (Philosophy) was based on
distorted language,
and contained little other than empty abstractions and alienated thought-forms
-- and, indeed, why he turned his back on it from the late 1840s onward. [On
that, see
here.]
For such
theorists, philosophical knowledge of this hidden world was the only
genuine knowledge. Empirical knowledge of this (material) world was
limited, inadequate, contingent, and thus couldn't count as genuine, on a par
with the 'superior knowledge' available to philosophers. This invisible world
soon found itself populated with "Universals", "Forms", "Ideas", "Essences", and
other assorted 'abstract'/'Ideal' objects, but through the centuries it has
always remained an
occult, a priori,
'Ur-universe',
which constitutes the 'Being' that Absolute Idealists and assorted mystics
declare is the real aim of the 'soul's' desire for mystical unity (mentioned in Note 1, above).
"Empirical,
contingent
truths have always struck philosophers as being, in some sense, ultimately
unintelligible. It is not that none can be known with certainty…; nor is it that
some cannot be explained…. Rather is it that all explanation of empirical truths
rests ultimately on brute contingency -- that is how the world is! Where
science comes to rest in explaining empirical facts varies from epoch to epoch,
but it is in the nature of empirical explanation that it will hit the bedrock of
contingency somewhere, e.g., in atomic theory in the nineteenth century or in
quantum mechanics
today. One feature that explains philosophers' fascination with
truths of Reason
is that they seem, in a deep sense, to be fully intelligible. To understand a
necessary proposition is to see why things must be so, it is to gain an
insight into the nature of things and to apprehend not only how things are, but
also why they cannot be otherwise. It is striking how pervasive visual metaphors
are in philosophical discussions of these issues. We see the universal in
the particular (by Aristotelian intuitive induction); by the Light of Reason we
see the essential relations of Simple Natures; mathematical truths are
apprehended by Intellectual Intuition, or by
a priori insight. Yet instead of examining the use of these arresting
pictures or metaphors to determine their aptness as pictures, we build
upon them mythological structures.
"We think of necessary propositions as
being
true or false, as objective and independent of our minds or will. We
conceive of them as being about various entities, about numbers even
about extraordinary numbers that the mind seems barely able to grasp…, or about
universals, such as colours, shapes, tones; or about logical entities, such as
the
truth-functions
or (in Frege's
case) the
truth-values.
We naturally think of necessary propositions as
describing the features of these entities, their essential characteristics.
So we take mathematical propositions to describe mathematical objects…. Hence
investigation into the domain of necessary propositions is conceived as a
process of discovery. Empirical scientists make discoveries about the
empirical domain, uncovering contingent truths; metaphysicians, logicians and
mathematicians appear to make discoveries of necessary truths about a
supra-empirical domain (a 'third
realm'). Mathematics seems to be the
'natural history of mathematical objects' [Wittgenstein
(1978), p.137], 'the physics of numbers' [Wittgenstein (1976), p.138; however
these authors record this erroneously as p.139 -- RL] or the 'mineralogy of
numbers' [Wittgenstein (1978), p.229]. The mathematician, e.g.,
Pascal,
admires the beauty of a theorem as though it were a kind of crystal.
Numbers seem to him to have wonderful properties; it is as if he were
confronting a beautiful natural phenomenon [Wittgenstein (1998), p.47; again,
these authors have recorded this erroneously as p.41 -- RL]. Logic seems to
investigate the laws governing logical objects…. Metaphysics looks as if it is a
description of the essential structure of the world. Hence we think that a
reality corresponds to our (true) necessary propositions. Our logic is
correct because it corresponds to the laws of logic….
"In our eagerness to ensure the
objectivity of truths of reason, their sempiternality
and mind-independence, we slowly but surely transform them into truths that are
no less 'brutish' than empirical, contingent truths. Why must red exclude
being green? To be told that this is the essential nature of red and green
merely reiterates the brutish necessity. A proof in arithmetic or geometry seems
to provide an explanation, but ultimately the structure of proofs rests on
axioms. Their truth is held to be self-evident, something we apprehend by
means of our faculty of intuition; we must simply see that they are
necessarily true…. We may analyse such ultimate truths into their constituent
'indefinables'. Yet if 'the discussion of indefinables…is the endeavour to see
clearly, and to make others see clearly, the entities concerned, in order that
the mind may have that kind of acquaintance with them which it has with redness
or the taste of a pineapple' [Russell
(1937), p.xv (this links to a PDF); again these authors record this
erroneously as p.v; although in the edition to which I have linked, it is
p.xliii -- RL], then the mere intellectual vision does not penetrate the logical
or metaphysical
that to the why or wherefore…. For if we construe necessary
propositions as truths about logical, mathematical or metaphysical entities
which describe their essential properties, then, of course, the final products
of our analyses will be as impenetrable to reason as the final products of
physical theorising, such as
Planck's constant."
[Baker and Hacker (1992), pp.273-75. Referencing conventions in the original
have been altered to conform with those adopted at this site.
Italic
emphases in the original; links added.]
In its
modern disguise, this doctrine has re-surfaced as part of the
pseudo-scientific doctrine that held that,
au fond, the universe is 'rational', governed (if not constituted) by
Mathematics and/or 'logic'. These days, apparently, the brain, or the 'mind', is
also controlled, or run, by somewhat similar 'algorithms' (if Daniel Dennett is
to be believed) -- which theory might make sense if reality were indeed 'Mind',
otherwise not. [On this, see Essay Twelve Part Four (to be published in 2018).]
4.
However, several articles published in a book that appeared after this section
was first written [i.e., Kitching and Pleasants (2002)] suggest that this
observation is now slightly out-of-date.
5.
Incidentally, in the many references to Wittgenstein's work at this site, the
reader will be hard pressed to find a single allusion to "language games"
(saving the present one, of course -- or, where I quote Wittgenstein directly).
Wittgenstein introduced this metaphor to assist him compare and contrast the
many uses there are of language, as well as to help him draw an analogy between
language and rule-governed social behaviour. It wasn't meant to suggest
that the use of language is merely a game, or that it is simply there for
amusement or recreation, and is thus of little import. Nor yet that we play
games when we use language, or
even that our 'view of reality' is 'relative' to a given game. [The last few
words have been put 'scare quotes' partly because Wittgenstein himself would
have questioned their employment in such contexts.] He would have been as
horrified as Christopher Norris clearly is (whom Rees quotes) at the blasé,
over-use of this metaphor, and even more appalled at the way it has been
employed to construct relativistic philosophical theses in the social
sciences, for example. [More on that in a later Essay.]
5a.
Indeed, Wittgenstein had this to say
about the "objects" of the Tractatus:
"What I once called 'objects',
'simples', were simply what I could refer to without running the risk of their
possible non-existence; i.e., that for which there is neither existence nor
non-existence, and that means: what we can speak about no matter what may be
the case." [Wittgenstein (1975), p.72; §36. Italics in the
original.]
Objects of
sense experience, whose existence can be verified (or otherwise), aren't,
therefore, the sort of "objects" to which Wittgenstein was referring. So, they
can't be "sense data", nor are they dependent upon 'experience' (otherwise it
would be possible to suppose them not to exist), and neither are they the
'logical atoms' of
Russell's theory, which do depend on sense experience.
There are no
satisfactory on-line articles on the Tractatus, but
this source at least runs through some of the main interpretations of the
"objects" that Wittgenstein introduced -- although, it has to be said, the
author finally adopts an erroneous view of them as point masses, similar to
those found in
Hertz's work. As noted above, for Wittgenstein it was impossible to suppose
that the "objects" of the Tractatus didn't exist, but it is easy to
imagine this of Hertzian point masses. In fact, if we were to imagine the
non-existence of one of these point masses, we would have to appeal to these
Tractarian 'objects' in order to do this! That was the point of him saying:
"what we can speak about no matter what may be the case".
This article
also outlines the many different interpretations there are of these "objects",
except the author omits the one adopted here -- that is, that they are
logical objects (not to be confused with "logical atoms"), as Wittgenstein
himself indicated. Easily the best account of the Tractatus
and its "objects" is to be found in White (2006).
6.
Cf., Cornforth (1965), pp.111-30. Verification as a criterion of sense
was something Wittgenstein toyed with briefly in the late 1920s and early 1930s,
nearly ten years after
the Tractatus was published. Even then, the slant he put on
verification was entirely different from that touted by members of the "Vienna
Circle"
(with whose work Cornforth largely confuses Wittgenstein's) -- who themselves
also tended to conflate Wittgenstein's aims with those of Russell. [On the
difference between sense and meaning, see
here.]
On this, cf., Baker (1988), Hacker
(1985, 1996, 2000a), Hanfling (1981), Medina (2001), and Misak (1995). See also
the important qualifications in Diamond (1999).
Even so, the comments of Communist Party
member Cornforth weren't always consistent with the views expressed by the
CPSU (although that should surprise few of
those cognisant of their constant theoretical volt-faces). For example,
the Introduction to A Textbook of Marxist Philosophy had this to say
about Wittgenstein's anti-metaphysical stance:
"The 'logical-analytic' method of
Wittgenstein and his followers is by no means the only modern philosophy that
approximates in certain points to the new dialectic....
It would appear, in fact, that not only are scientific discoveries confirming
the standpoint of dialectical materialism but that Western philosophers are
increasingly discarding metaphysical concepts...." [Shirokov
(1937), pp.18-19. Paragraphs merged.]
Now, it may be because this was written
around about the time of the
Popular Front that the authors took a more conciliatory tone toward
Wittgenstein (whose work they, too, clearly confused with that of the Vienna
Circle), but that just underlines how vacillating Stalinist authors were
between, say, 1930 and 1956, Cornforth included. So, compare the above comments
with those that Kuusinen published some twenty-five years later:
"The basic tenets of neo-positivism were formulated by Bertrand Russell and the
Austrian philosophers Wittgenstein and
Schlick.
Its most prominent exponents are
Carnap
in the United States and
Ayer
in Britain. It owes its origin to a desire to refurbish the subjective-idealist
philosophy of
Machism and adapt it to the present state
of physics, mathematics and logic." [Kuusinen (1961), p.57.]
It is worth noting, once again, that
Kuusinen offers no evidence at all to substantiate the allegation that
Wittgenstein was a Positivist, or even that he was keen to promote "Machism".
But, that is par for the course; DM-theorists are notoriously cavalier with such
details.
We may speculate that this cavalier
attitude might be because a "one-sided" emphasis on evidence might result in
accusations of "Empiricism!" being thrown at those foolish enough to
request some. I know, because I have been accused of being one such simply
because I keep asking for the evidence
that supports or substantiates the hyper-bold theses concocted by DM-theorists
-- or, to be more accurate, the evidence that supports the theses they
have lifted from Hegel and other assorted mystics. The easiest way to stifle
counter-accusations like this is to adopt just such a cavalier and slipshod
attitude toward evidence, or and the need to produce any. There seems to be no
other way to account for this attitude, which has been echoed right across all
areas of Dialectical Marxism. [Substantiation for that particular allegation can
be found in most of the Essays published at this site, but more specifically in
Essay Two (link above) -- and, in Lenin's case,
here.]
6a0.
Indeed,
one rather
incautious 'comrade' even accused me of "superficiality" while having the
cheek to refer his readers to Gellner's hyper-superficial analysis of
OLP!
In a review of Kitching and Pleasants
(2002), David Stern has this to say about Gellner:
"While Gellner's critique, largely composed of shoddy rhetoric, insinuation and
personal abuse, created considerable controversy, it was dismissed by the
philosophical establishment at the time. However, his caricature of Wittgenstein
was enormously attractive to those who needed a convenient rationale for
dismissing him. It has since become conventional wisdom in many quarters, and
especially among social scientists, and is certainly part of the reason why a
relatively small number of social scientists on the left have taken a serious
interest in Wittgenstein." [Quoted from
here.]
More-or-less
the same can be said about the influence of Marcuse's book, which has almost
single-handedly been responsible for prejudicing the minds of countless Marxists
against Wittgenstein and OLP.
6a01. Readers
might be tempted to ask: Exactly what is it that allows Ms Lichtenstein to think
she can rise above such social forces?
The answer
is simple: (i) An implacable determination not
to propound or promote a single philosophical theory -- this being an important
first step in the right direction -- coupled with an equally strong
determination (ii) To cleave to the deliverances of common understanding and
(iii) To take seriously Marx's advice (see below) and heed the protocols
expressed in, and that are constitutive of, the vernacular. [Precisely how
these steps manage to achieve that end will be explained in detail in Essay
Twelve Part Seven.]
What is
more,
Marx plainly held similar
views:
"The philosophers have only to dissolve their language into the ordinary
language, from which it is abstracted, in order to recognise it, as the
distorted language of the actual world, and to realise that neither thoughts
nor language in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only
manifestations of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphases
added.]
Ordinary
language is therefore by implication a manifestation of "actual life"; that is,
it is a manifestation of life that hasn't been distorted by class-motivated
ideology. This also follows on from another piece of advice from Mar--
advice that the vast majority of DM-theorists have yet to heed:
"One
has to 'leave philosophy aside'..., one has to leap out of it and devote oneself
like an ordinary man to the study of actuality...." [Marx
and Engels (1976), p.236. Quotation marks
altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.]
Now, this
might or might not help guarantee that the thoughts expressed in these Essays
rise above "such social forces", but one thing that will most certainly
guarantee that they don't is the adoption of
boss-class forms-of-thought, beloved
of DM-fans.
These and other related topics (i.e.,
those concerning colour) are discussed at length in Wittgenstein (1958, 1980c).
Cf., Glock (1996), pp.81-84, Hacker (1987), Hanfling (2000), Harrison (1972,
1973), and McGinn (1991).
Cf., also Hardin (1993), and Westphal
(1991). However, the approach adopted by the latter two books is incompatible
with the method employed at this site. They are offering a theory of
colour, I am not -- nor will I, and for reasons outlined in Essays
One and Twelve
Part One.
However,
on this topic, the reader should consult a minor modern classic in this area:
Stroud (2000b). I can't recommend this book too highly.
Incidentally, it is a bad idea to confuse concepts with objects, words, mental
processes or structures (which view of concepts seems to have infected much of
post-Kantian 'Continental Philosophy'). That is because it reduces sentences and
propositions to lists, and lists say nothing. The approach adopted at this site
treats a concept as the expression of a linguistic rule. There are good reasons
to prefer that approach over the traditional analysis of concepts and
predicates, among which are the following -- as I noted in Essay Three
Part One (slightly
edited):
There are
many advantages to this neo-Fregean way of analysing language; several will be
outlined later in this Essay. However, for present purposes, the main advantage
is that it isn't possible to interpret schemas like "ξ
is a warmonger" as a name of anything, least of all the name of an
Abstract
Particular -- nor, indeed, the name of some sort of 'mental
entity'. [The use of Greek letters like this is explained
here and here.]
This modern
approach also incorporates the word "is" into the predicate expression (or,
rather, into the linguistic functional expression), short-circuiting questions
about
whether or not it is an "is" of identity or an "is" of
predication. No less important is the fact that it allows us to drop
entirely from logic the words "predicate" and "predication",
thereby casting into oblivion two-and-a-half millennia of wasted effort, wrong
turns, and aimless metaphysics -- at the same time as completely
undermining a key argument in Hegel's 'Logic'.
The same
can't be said about the results of subject/predicate analysis found in
Traditional Logic. For example, the alleged predicate -- "a warmonger" -- looks
like it designates or names a class, concept, category, group, Idea, 'mental
construct', or Abstract Particular, all of which readings of the phrase would
destroy the generality expressed in the
original propositions (for reasons explored in the main body of this
Essay). The post-Fregean approach using "ξ
is a warmonger" entirely side-steps this pitfall.
Subsequent
Logicians and Philosophers were only too eager to take the aforementioned 'wrong
turn', adopting the 'Term
Logic' they inherited from Aristotle, which was largely based on the
traditional analysis of predicate expressions. The quotations taken from
DM-sources (many of which have been posted in
Note 1e and
Appendix B), expounding the 'process of abstraction', clearly illustrate
how dialecticians have wandered blindly into this bear trap. Novack provides us
with a particularly good example (but there are many others):
"This law of identity of opposites,
which so perplexes and horrifies addicts of formal logic, can be easily
understood, not only when it is applied to actual processes of development and
interrelations of events, but also when it is contrasted with the formal law of
identity. It is logically true that A equals A, that John is John…. But it is
far more profoundly true that A is also non-A. John is not simply John: John is
a man. This correct proposition is not an affirmation of abstract identity, but
an identification of opposites.
The logical category or material class, mankind, with which John is one and
the same is far more and other than John, the individual. Mankind is at the same
time identical with, yet different from John." [Novack
(1971), p.92. Bold emphasis added.]
By
concentrating on "man" as the assumed predicate expression (instead of "ξ
is a man"), Novack reduces this word to the name of an idea, category, set,
concept, or class, thus destroying
the unity of the proposition.
[While
Novack doesn't explicitly say "man" is the name of an idea (even though
it is plain from what he does say that "man" is indeed such a name),
other DM-theorists
do. [Again, see
Note 1e and
Appendix B
for examples.]
The above,
traditional analysis of predicates not only conflates what is said about
certain "subjects" with the means by which this is done, it also predisposes
theorists to think of "man" as the name of an 'object of thought', since the
word plainly doesn't name anything in the 'outside world'. As soon as we look at
this 'problem' through 'traditional spectacles', we are forced to search for
something for this word to name. The temptation then becomes
irresistible to look insideourselves to find its supposed
referent. Hence, because of this simple error of logic, a whole body of
Traditional Metaphysics and Philosophy of Mind has been conjured into existence.
This simple error of logical syntax forced DM-theorists to drop their theory
into the solipsistic quagmire outlined in Note 4, above. Of
course, the other route taken by Traditional Theorists was to postulate a hidden
world underlying (or lying behind) appearances, to which such predicates
expressions referred (or the objects and processes in which predicates
supposedly 'inhered'), an approach to predicate expressions that underpins
Platonism and other forms of Classical Realism. [These topics will be explored
in more detail in
Part Two.]
However, since "ξ
is a man" is an expression for a linguistic rule, the temptation to
confuse it with anything 'mental' -- or with the name of anything
'internal', or even anything which resides in 'heaven', perhaps with 'God'
(etc.) -- totally vanishes. At a stoke, that removes this entire topic from the
hidden, internal world of mythical and uncheckable 'mental' processes -- or,
indeed, from the ghostly world of Forms, Universals, Categories and Concepts --,
and places it squarely in the public domain. On this account, the
mastery of a concept is no more nor no less mysterious than the mastery of a
linguistic skill, publicly exercised and capable of being inter-subjectively
taught and hence checked. Paraphrasing Wittgenstein: a whole cloud of
metaphysics condensed in -- or, rather, distilled out of -- a drop of
grammar. [Wittgenstein
(2009), p.233,
§315;
(1958),
p.222. (This links to a PDF.) The online
edition of the latter has the page numbering all wrong; it puts this sentence on
p.22*6 (sic!).]
This is just
one more advantage this way of analysing language possesses (further
outlinedbelow).
The use of Greek letters -- as in "ξ
is a man" -- reminds us that this inscription is properly to be viewed as
the linguistic expression of a rule, which places this 'concept' in the
public domain. So, given this interpretation, concepts and predicates
aren't 'mental constructs' (as tradition would have us believe), they are
expressions of linguistic rules we use to communicate with one another, among
other things.
7.Wittgenstein's deep respect for Frege
can be gauged from the many references he made to him in his published and
un–published work -- they far out-number those of any other philosopher --, and
in the remarks recorded by many of his pupils. On this, see Hallett (1977),
pp.764-65, 791. On Wittgenstein's overall debt to Frege, see Diamond (2010),
Dummett (1991b), Reck (1997, 2002b), and most of the other essays in Reck
(2002a). Indeed, and on a personal note, I can recall
Peter Geach (one of Wittgenstein's closest
post-war friends) commenting -- when asked by me what attitude Wittgenstein had
adopted toward Frege when he (Geach) knew him -- that to his mind Wittgenstein
always spoke of Frege as he imagined Aristotle would have spoken of Plato.
8.Indeed, if Watson
rises to the challenge he will find the exact opposite of what he unwisely
asserted about Wittgenstein and AFL.
In fact, those who bother to check will discover several of Wittgenstein's
comments have been used by
dialetheic
logicians in
support of their view that contradictions can be 'true'! [Cf., Priest (2002,
2004, 2006, 2007); and see below.]
A more balanced view of this matter (and
one that displays a rather more secure grasp of Wittgenstein's overall method)
can be found in Goldstein (1986, 1988, 1989, 1992, 1999). Graham
Priest's work will be
reviewed in a later Essay; in the meantime the reader is encouraged to check
this out, which is a
review of one of Priest's recent books, written by a leading logician,
Hartry Field.
See also Slater (2004) -- now Slater (2007b) -- , Slater (2007c), and Field
(2008), pp.361-92.
Anyway, it is clear that Wittgenstein
was happy to question AFL in ways that alarmed less progressive contemporaneous
classical logicians. [Confusingly, the phrase "classical
Logic" now refers to Fregean and Russellian logic, etc., not AFL.] In fact,
one only has to look at the reception given to Wittgenstein's work on the
Philosophy of Mathematics, for instance, to see the extent to which his ideas
horrified classicists. On this see, for example, the first edition of Benacerraf
and Putnam (unfortunately, the second edition (i.e., Benacerraf and Putnam
(1983)) has had all of this material removed) -- Benacerraf and Putnam (1964),
i.e., Anderson (1958), Dummett (1959), and Bernays (1959).
On the controversy provoked by this
aspect of Wittgenstein's work, see Monk (2007), and Shanker (1987d). The best
on-line article on Wittgenstein's Philosophy of Mathematics is
Rodych (2018).
Here is what I have said about this
topic in another
Essay:
Here are
just a few of the many things [Wittgenstein] had to say about
contradictions in notebooks and lectures during his 'middle period':
"I want to talk about the sense in which we should say that the law of
contradiction -- ~(p.~p)
[the 'dot' stands for 'and', and the tilde (i.e, '~')
for 'not'; 'p' is a propositional letter; '~(p.~p)' is counted as a tautology in
the
Propositional Calculus
(i.e., true under every interpretation) -- RL] -- is a true proposition.
Should we say that if '~(p.~p)'
is a true proposition, it is true in a different sense of the word from the
sense in which it is a true proposition that the earth goes around the sun?
"In logic one deals with tautologies --
propositions like '~(p.~p)'.
But one might just as well deal with contradictions instead. So that the
Principia Mathematica
would not be a collection of tautologies but a collection of contradictions.
Should one say that the contradictions were true? Or would one then say that
'true' is being used in a different sense?" [Wittgenstein (1976), p.187. Links
added.]
"The laws of logic, e.g., excluded
middle and contradiction, are arbitrary. This statement is a bit repulsive, but
nevertheless true. In discussing the foundations of mathematics the fact that
these laws are arbitrary is important, for in mathematics contradiction is a
bugbear. A contradiction is a proposition of the form p and not-p. To
forbid its occurrence is to adopt one system of expression, which may recommend
itself highly. This does not mean we cannot use contradiction." [Wittgenstein
(1979a), p.71. Italic emphasis in the original.]
"I am prepared to predict that there
will be mathematical investigations of calculi containing contradictions, and
people will pride themselves on having emancipated themselves from consistency
too." [Waismann (1979), p.139.]
And we have
already encountered this passage (which is directly reminiscent of Hegel
and/or Engels):
"But you can't allow a contradiction to stand! --
Why not?...
"It might for example be said of an object in motion
that it existed and did not exist in this place; change might be expressed by
means of contradiction." [Wittgenstein (1978), p.370.]
Hence, it is
now quite plain why
Turing,
according Wittgenstein,
believed that he (Wittgenstein) was trying to introduce "Bolshevism" into
Mathematics: because of his criticisms of the irrational fear of contradictions
among mathematicians. [Cf., Monk (1990), pp.419-20; see also Hodges (1983),
pp.152-54.]
The above comments (and there were plenty more like it in the 1930s) plainly
demonstrate the influence both of DM and Hegel on Wittgenstein's thought. Which
other major (or even minor) non-Hegelian philosopher was arguing along
these lines in the 1920s and 1930s? Which one was surrounded on all sides by
active and leading Marxists with whom he regularly discussed DM?X21
Indeed, and
more recently, Graham Priest and Richard Routley, both Marxists, thought that
they could recruit Wittgenstein to the
Paraconsistent and
Dialetheic 'cause', even if they had a few criticisms to make of certain
aspects of his work:
"Though dialetheism is not a new view, the word itself is. It was coined by
Graham
Priest
and
Richard
Routley
(later Sylvan) in 1981 (see Priest, Routley and Norman, 1989, p.xx).
The inspiration for the name was a passage in Wittgenstein's Remarks on the
Foundations of Mathematics, where he describes the Liar sentence ('This
sentence is not true') as a Janus-headed
figure facing both truth and falsity (1978, IV.59). Hence a di-aletheia is a
two(-way) truth. Unfortunately, Priest and Routley forgot to agree how to spell
the 'ism', and versions with and without the 'e' appear in print." [Priest,
Berto and Weber (2018), quoted from
here.
Links added.]
The passage
to which the above two authors refer reads as follows:
"Why should Russell's contradictions not be conceived as
something supra-propositional, something that towers above the propositions and
looks in both directions like a Janus head? N.B. the proposition F(F) --
in which F(ξ) =
~ξ(ξ)
-- contains no variables and so might hold as something supra-logical, as
something unassailable, whose negation itself in turn only asserts it.
Might one not even begin logic with this contradiction? And as it were descend
from it to propositions.
"The proposition that contradicts itself would stand
like a monument (with a Janus head) over the propositions of logic."
[Wittgenstein (1978), p.256. Italic
emphases in the original.]
However, in
his later work, it is clear that Wittgenstein abandoned this way of seeing
things:
"There can be no debate about whether
these or other rules are the right ones for the word 'not'.... For without these
rules, the word has as yet no meaning; and if we change the rules, it now has
another meaning (or none), and in that case we may just as well change the word
too." [Wittgenstein
(2009), §549, footnote, p.155e. (This links to a PDF.)]
Hence, if
the negative particle typically maps a truth onto a falsehood, or vice versa,
then a contradiction can't be true, but must either be senseless or false....
Wittgenstein's unorthodox view of contradictions isn't the only area of his work
where it looks like he was echoing ideas we normally associate with Hegel and
DM; he also held non-standard views about the so-called 'Law of Identity' [LOI]:
"Roughly speaking, to say of two things that they are identical is nonsense, and
to say of one thing that it is identical with itself is to say nothing at all.
"Thus I do not write 'f(a,b).a = b', but 'f(a,a)' (or
'f(b,b)'); and not 'f(a,b).~a
= b', but 'f(a,b)'....
[Wittgenstein explains what he is doing
here: "Identity of object I express by identity of sign, and not by using a sign
for identity. Difference of objects I express by difference of sign." (5.53,
p.105.) -- RL.]
"'A thing is identical with itself.' --
There is no finer example of a useless sentence.... It is as if in our
imagination we put a thing into its own shape and saw that it fitted." [Wittgenstein
(2009),
§216, p.91e. (This links to a PDF.)]
"'a = a' is a perfectly useless
proposition." [Wittgenstein (1976), p.283.]
"The law of identity, for example,
seemed to be of fundamental importance. But now the proposition that this 'law'
is nonsense has taken over this importance." [Wittgenstein (1993), p.169.]
I can think of very few Analytic Philosophers (who
have not already been influenced by Hegel and/or Wittgenstein), if any,
who would argue this way. But, this isn't surprising given what we know of the
opinions of his communist friends.
These are
just a few of the passages I have quoted in
the above Essay, which show that, in some respects, Wittgenstein had
been heavily influenced by Hegel and (possibly even) by Engels.
9.
This is a phrase Wittgenstein did not, of course, use. However, it is important
to note that even in his early work Wittgenstein was at pains to avoid
the
reification of language. In later writings he acknowledged that in his
earlier work he hadn't gone far enough in that direction; indeed, it became
clear to him that he had overlooked several other important features of
language, among which were: its diversity, its origin in human practice, and its
role intercommunication. In short, he admitted he had ignored the
"anthropological" nature of discourse. [This is reported in Monk (1990), p.261.
On this in general, see
here. Also see
Hacker (2013c).]
11.
Cf., Parrington (1997), and Holborow (1999). Sean Doherty has also contributed
to the debate in a recent review of Holborow's book. [Cf., Doherty (2000).]
However, he adds little that is relevant to the aims of this Essay in addition
to what Parrington and Holborow have to say. Even more recently, Dave McNally
has also weighed in; cf., McNally (2001, 2004). On McNally, see
here.
[I will add several more comments on
McNally's work in a later re-write of this Essay. In addition, I will examine
Lecercle (2006) and Lecercle and
Riley (2004). I will also be examining the contribution of Chik Collins -- i.e.,
Collins (1999, 2000, 2003, 2004).]
It would
require an entire Essay in itself to review the many misconceptions,
inconsistencies and confusions that litter Voloshinov's work. Hence, I have
largely limited myself to commenting only on those aspects of his theory that
seem to be the most relevant to issues raised at this site.
Nevertheless, and to be fair to Voloshinov, there are a number insights in his
writings that prefigure ideas found in a more sophisticated and developed form
in Wittgenstein's work: those connected with the social nature of language and
the meaning of words. On the first, see, for example,
Note 23, below; on the second, this:
"Meaning is a function of the sign and
is therefore inconceivable...outside the sign as some particular, independently
existing thing. It would be just as absurd to maintain such a notion as to take
the meaning of the word 'horse' to be this particular, live animal I am pointing
to. Why if that were so, then I could claim, for instance, that having eaten an
apple, I have consumed not an apple but the meaning of the word 'apple'."
[Voloshinov (1973), p.28.]
Compare that with Wittgenstein's comments, aimed at what he alleged was
Augustine's view of language:
"These words, it seems to me, give a
particular picture of the essence of human language. It is this: the individual
words in a language name objects -- sentences are combinations of such names. --
In this picture of language we find the roots of the following idea: Every word
has a meaning. This meaning is correlated with the word. It is the object for
which the word stands....
"It is important to note that the word
'meaning' is being used illicitly if it is used to signify the thing that
'corresponds' to the word. That is to confound the meaning of a name with the
bearer of the name. When Mr. N. N. dies one says that the bearer of the name
dies, not that the meaning dies." [Wittgenstein (1958), §1, p.2e, and §40, p.20e. Italic
emphasis in the original; Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions adopted at this site.]
These
parallels are quite striking. It would be interesting, therefore, to find out
whether the important intellectual stimulus Wittgenstein received from his
discussions with
Sraffa
actually came indirectly from Voloshinov or Vygotsky, or from some other common
source:
"Even more than this…criticism I am
indebted to that which a teacher of this university, Mr P. Sraffa, for many
years unceasingly practiced on my thoughts. I am indebted to this stimulus for themost consequential ideas of this book."
[Wittgenstein (1958), p.viii. Bold emphasis added.]
[On Sraffa's
influence on Wittgenstein, see Kitching and Pleasants (2002). For the 'Augustinian
Picture' of language, see Glock (1996), pp.41-45, Baker and Hacker (2005a),
pp.1-28,
and Baker
and Hacker (2005b), pp.48-72. See also
here. I have covered this issue
(concerning the likely influence on Wittgenstein of Sraffa, Bakhtin and
Voloshinov), here.
However, Wittgenstein's view of Augustine's theory of language wasn't entirely
accurate, but it did serve as a point of departure for him. On this, see Kirwan
(2001) and Burnyeat (1987).
(This links to a PDF.)]
Despite
this, it is clear that Voloshinov's ideas were seriously compromised by his
adoption of traditional ways of theorising about language, 'mind' and philosophy
--, perhaps too much for him to have appreciated the inconsistency and confusion
this introduced into his work. They will become apparent as this Essay unfolds.
[On this, see, for example, Note 23.]
12.The word "appears" has been put in
'scare' quotes because, if what Voloshinov
appears to have said were in fact correct, then not even he
could have begun to report on it, and neither could anyone else have determined
what other speakers might 'appear' to have said about his words -- or, for
that matter, about anything else on any subject whatsoever, including the
sorts of things Parrington and Holborow have to say. Why this is so will be
outlined presently in the main body of this Essay.
12a.
We must be careful to distinguish between different forms of
contextualism. One type might emphasise the
circumstances surrounding an utterance. But, even these can vary. One
sub-variety here will speak about the social or historical circumstances, the
interplay between speakers, the physical setting, and the role an utterance
might play in situations like these. Another sub-variety might concentrate on
the individual who utters a given set of words, the psychological associations,
'values', beliefs, motives, intentions and other idiosyncrasies they might bring
to the occasion. Voloshinov, Parrington and Holborow appear to have run both of
these together without giving much thought to the fact that they aren't
(plainly) the same. Indeed, this shows up in the obvious tension that exists in
their work between their desire to give a social account of language and meaning
and what they finally deliver, which is its exact opposite. [On this, again, see Note 23.]
The above
meaning of "context" is to be contrasted with the sort of sentential,
grammatical and logical contextualism one finds in the Fregean/Wittgensteinian
tradition -- and at this site. On that, see
here.
13.
Open texture and "indexicality"
will be tackled presently.
13a.
We may note in passing that here we have yet another dialectician
imposing
his theory on the facts. There is no way that Voloshinov could possibly have
known that the following is the case:
"Any word used in actual speech
possesses not only theme and meaning in the referential, or content, sense of
these words, but also value judgement: i.e., all referential contents produced
in living speech are said or written in conjunction with a specific
evaluative accent. There is no such thing as a word without evaluative
accent." [Voloshinov (1973), p.103. Italic emphasis in the original.
Bold emphasis added.]
In fact,
there are countless words that don't possess an "evaluative accent" -- for
instance, "the", "or", "and", "is", "will be", "between", "skylight",
"question", "comma", "river", "orange peel", "Voloshinov", "etc.", etc.
Now,
Voloshinov might have meant that there is no use of words that doesn't
also entail an evaluation of some sort, but, clearly, that is a separate matter
-- and still not obviously true. Examples of several non-evaluative
sentences (even when used) will be given in the main body of this Essay,
presently.
13b.
It is worth adding here that this doesn't imply that I believe words have an
"intrinsic meaning"; I am simply alluding to ideas that Voloshinov is himself
criticising. On what I do think about meaning, see, for example,
here and
here.
"'When
I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said, in a rather
scornful tone, 'it means just what I choose it to mean, neither more nor less.'
Figure Ten: Humpty Dumpty
Dialectics?
"'The question is,' said Alice, 'whether
you can make words mean so many different things.'
"'The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty,
'which is to be master -- that's all.'
"Alice was too much puzzled to say
anything; so after a minute Humpty Dumpty began again. 'They've a temper, some
of them -- particularly verbs: they're the proudest -- adjectives you can do
anything with, but not verbs -- however, I can manage the whole lot of
them! Impenetrability! That's what I say!'
"'Would you tell me, please,' said
Alice, 'what that means?'
"'Now you talk like a reasonable child,'
said Humpty Dumpty, looking very much pleased. 'I meant by "impenetrability"
that we've had enough of that subject, and it would be just as well if you'd
mention what you mean to do next, as I suppose you don't mean to stop here all
the rest of your life.'
"'That's a great deal to make one word
mean,' Alice said in a thoughtful tone.
"'When I make a word do a lot of work
like that,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'I always pay it extra.'
"'Oh!' said Alice. She was too much
puzzled to make any other remark.
"'Ah, you should see 'em come round me
of a Saturday night,' Humpty Dumpty went on, wagging his head gravely from side
to side, 'for to get their wages, you know.'
"(Alice didn't venture to ask what he
paid them with; so you see I can't tell you.)
"'You seem very clever at explaining
words, Sir' said Alice. 'Would you kindly tell me the meaning of the poem called
"Jabberwocky"?'
"'Let's hear it,' said Humpty Dumpty. 'I
can explain all the poems that ever were invented just yet.'
"This sounded very hopeful, so Alice
repeated the first verse:
'Twas
brillig, and the slithy toves,
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.'
"'That's enough to begin with,' Humpty Dumpty interrupted: 'there are plenty of
hard words there. "Brillig" means four o'clock in the afternoon -- the
time when you begin broiling things for dinner.'
"'That'll do very well,' said Alice:
'and "slithy"?'
"'Well, "slithy" means "lithe and slimy." "Lithe" is the same as
"active." You see it's like a
portmanteau
-- there are two meanings packed up into one word.'
"'I see it now,' Alice remarked
thoughtfully: 'and what are "toves"?'
"'Well, "toves" are something
like badgers -- they're something like lizards -- and they're something like
corkscrews.'
"'They must be very curious-looking
creatures.'
"'They are that,' said Humpty Dumpty:
'also they make their nests under sundials -- also they live on cheese.'
"'And what's to "gyre" and to "gimble"?'
"'To "gyre" is to go round and
round like a gyroscope. To "gimble" is to make holes like a gimlet.'
"'And "the wabe" is the
grass-plot round a sundial, I suppose?' said Alice, surprised at her own
ingenuity.
"'Of course it is. It's called "wabe,"
you know, because it goes a long way before it, and a long way behind it-----'
"'And a long way beyond it on each
side,' Alice added.
"'Exactly so. Well then, "mimsy"
is "flimsy and miserable" (there's another portmanteau for you). And a "borogove"
is a thin shabby-looking bird with its feathers sticking out all around --
something like a live mop.'
"'And then "mome raths"?' said
Alice. 'I'm afraid I'm giving you a great deal of trouble.'
"'Well, a "rath" is a sort of
green pig: but "mome" I'm not certain about. I think it's short for "from
home" -- meaning that they'd lost their way, you know.'
"'And what does "outgrabe" mean?'
"'Well, "outgrabing" is something
between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle; however
you'll hear it done, maybe -- down in the wood yonder -- and, when you've once
heard it, you'll be quite content. Who's been repeating all that hard
stuff to you?'
"'I read it in a book,' said Alice."
If only
dialecticians were as 'clear' as Humpty Dumpty at explaining the obscure terms
in their 'theory'!
14a.
Of course, it could be pointed out that if enough speakers of a language
intend to use words in certain ways, then those intentions will, as a matter of
fact, change the meaning of those words for that sub-group, and maybe later for
the entire speech community. Look at how the word "sick",
for example, has changed recently for many young speakers of English.
Maybe so,
but then "sick" has become a new word, typographically identical with the old
one. This new word has now come to mean "crazy", "cool", or "insane" (with the
words "crazy" and "insane", too, having new meanings -- they no longer imply
some sort of psychiatric disorder when used this way), but no one supposes that
when it is used in sentences like "Is your sister sick? I saw her at the doctors
today", and "My dog is sick; I think I'll take it to the vets" the word "sick"
means "crazy", "cool", or "insane". Not even those who use "sick" to mean
"crazy", "cool", or "insane" when they are with their friends (who also speak
this way) will fail to understand someone who says they are going to be sick, or
that they have to go home to take care of their sick mother. And when the BBC
inform us that "Glasgow
the UK's sickest city", they aren't trying to tell us how "crazy", "cool",
or "insane" it is.
To state the
obvious: new words can certainly be introduced into the language, and old words
can assume new meanings. But, if the meaning of any and all words were to
change with each use, or their meaning in the language were sensitive to
occasions of use, and/or the intentions and aims of speakers on each occasion of
use, then we would surely lose grip on the word "word" itself, not to mention
"occasion", "intention" and "aim"! [On this, see Note 15 and
later in the main body of this Essay.]
Nor is this
to deny that words mean what they do because human beings use them, but they use
the words they chose to utter or write because of the meaning they already have.
Otherwise, any words would do.
15.
One wonders what the supporters of "contextualism" have to say about a woman who
says "No!". Does this mean "No!", or do we have to concede ground to
rapists and male chauvinists who seem to think it means "Yes!" in certain
circumstances? And yet, if this word means what it says (in all
circumstances), then why not other words?
16.
This seems to be a direct implication of Voloshinov's view! If a word is never
used, or if it has fallen out of use, then it must be meaningless. That
being so, in between its various episodic employments, that word must also cease
to have a meaning. If so, why would anyone want to use such a meaningless word?
For example, does anyone now actually want to use "BuBuBu"? And yet, on this
account, it would seem that "BuBuBu" is no different from "cat", "door" or
"coffee mug", since it would seem that each of these is meaningless until it is
used!
In fact, if
this were so, no one would bother to translate long dead languages. If an
archaeologist unearthed an ancient artefact that had, say, a strange inscription
on it that was written in an unknown language, she would surely be misguided in
her attempt to translate it. If the words on this inscription are no longer in
use they must surely be meaningless, given this 'theory'.
Alternatively, if these long dead words once had a "theme" (when, say, they were
originally written or inscribed), which was unique to that event, that "theme"
would be inaccessible since it has now become forever lost. In either case, such
an inscription would beuntranslatable.
Indeed, had
Jean-François Champollion (and others) taken a similar view of the
Rosetta
Stone, the meaning of Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs would still be a mystery.
They would have no meaning if Voloshinov were correct -- so why would anyone
bother trying to decipher them?
[There are
more details on this,
here. Concerning another similar episode, the decoding of
Linear B,
see here.]
Update June
2013: We now read this from
the BBC about a new study of this manuscript:
"The message inside 'the world's most mysterious medieval manuscript' has eluded cryptographers, mathematicians and linguists for over a century. And for many, the so-called Voynich book is assumed to be a hoax. But a new study, published in the journal Plos One, suggests the manuscript may, after all, hold a genuine message. Scientists say they found linguistic patterns they believe to be meaningful words within the text. Whether or not it really does have any meaningful information, though, is much debated by amateurs and professionals alike. It was even investigated by a team of prominent code breakers during WWII who successfully cracked complex encrypted enemy messages, but they failed to find meaning in the text. The book has been dated to the early 1400s, but it largely disappeared from public record until 1912 when an antique book dealer called Wilfrid Voynich bought it amongst a number of second-hand publications in Italy.
"Marcelo Montemurro, a theoretical physicist from the University of Manchester, UK, has spent many years analysing its linguistic patterns and says he hopes to unravel the manuscript's mystery, which he believes his new research is one step closer to doing. 'The text is unique, there are no similar works and all attempts to decode any possible message in the text have failed. It's not easy to dismiss the manuscript as simple nonsensical gibberish, as it shows a significant [linguistic] structure,' he told BBC News.
"Dr
Montemurro
and
a
colleague
used
a
computerised
statistical
method
to
analyse
the
text,
an
approach
that
has
been
known
to
work
on
other
languages.
They
focused
on
patterns
of
how
the
words
were
arranged
in
order
to
extract
meaningful
content-bearing
words.
'There
is
substantial
evidence
that
content-bearing
words
tend
to
occur
in a
clustered
pattern,
where
they
are
required
as
part
of
the
specific
information
being
written,'
he
explains.
"'Over
long
spans
of
texts,
words
leave
a
statistical
signature
about
their
use.
When
the
topic
shifts,
other
words
are
needed.
'The
semantic
networks
we
obtained
clearly
show
that
related
words
tend
to
share
structure
similarities.
This
also
happens
to a
certain
degree
in
real
languages.'
Dr
Montemurro
believes
it
unlikely
that
these
features
were
simply
'incorporated'
into
the
text
to
make
a
hoax
more
realistic,
as
most
of
the
required
academic
knowledge
of
these
structures
did
not
exist
at
the
time
the
Voynich
manuscript
was
created.
"Though
he
has
found
a
pattern,
what
the
words
mean
remains
a
mystery.
The
very
fact
that
a
century
of
brilliant
minds
have
analysed
the
work
with
little
progress
means
some
believe
a
hoax
is
the
only
likely
explanation."
[Quoted
from
here.
Accessed
23/06/2013.
Quotation
marks
altered
to
conform
with
the
conventions
adopted
at
this
site.
Bold
emphases
added;
link
in
the
original.
Some
paragraphs
merged.]
While
another expert, a cryptographer, had this to say:
"'There are about 25 examinations of the
Voynich manuscript and most of the results show the text has similarities with
natural language. This new examination is one more of this kind,' says Klaus
Schmeh, a cryptographer. 'While we know a lot about the statistical properties
of the text, we don't know enough about how to interpret them, which is one of
the problems with the new research. We need to find out how different languages,
encryption methods, and text types influence the statistics.
There have been numerous encrypted texts since the Middle Ages and 99.9% have
been cracked. If you have a whole book, as here, it should be 'quite easy' as
there is so much material for analysts to work with. That it has never been
decrypted is a strong argument for the hoax theory.'" [Ibid.
Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.
Paragraphs merged.]
We also read
the following:
"Gordon Rugg, a mathematician from Keele
University, UK, is one such academic. He has
even produced his own complex code
deliberately similar to 'Voynichese' to show
how a text can appear to have meaningful
patterns, even though it is 'gibberish hoax
text'. He says the new findings do not rule
out the hoax theory, which the researchers
argue. 'The findings aren't anything new.
It's been accepted for decades that the
statistical properties of Voynichese are
similar, but not identical, to those of real
languages. I don't think there's much chance
that the Voynich manuscript is simply an
unidentified language, because there are too
many features in its text that are very
different from anything found in any real
language.'
"Gordon
Rugg
does not
believe
it
contains
an
unknown
code,
which is
another
theory
of what
the text
may be:
'Some of
the
features
of the
manuscript's
text,
such as
the way
that it
consists
of
separate
words,
are
inconsistent
with
most
methods
of
encoding
text.
Modern
codes
almost
invariably
avoid
having
separate
words,
as those
would be
an easy
way to
crack
most
coding
systems.'
As to
its
enduring
appeal,
an
unsolved
cipher
could be
'hiding
almost
anything',
says
Craig
Bauer,
author
of
Secret
History:
The
Story of
Cryptology.
"'It
could
solve a
major
crime,
reveal
buried
treasure
worth
millions
or in
the case
of the
Voynich
manuscript,
rewrite
the
history
of
science,'
he adds.
Dr
Bauer's
opinion
of
whether
it is
meaningful
is often
swayed,
he
admits.
While he
recently
believed
it to be
a hoax,
the new
analysis
has now
shifted
his
opinion.
But
despite
this, he
still
believes
it is a
made up
language,
as
opposed
to a
real
naturally
evolving
one, or
'it
would
have
been
broken
years
ago.
However,
I still
feel
that
it's
very
much an
open
question
and I
may
change
my mind
a few
times
before a
proof is
obtained
one way
or the
other.'
"But Dr
Montemurro
is firm
in his
belief,
and
argues
that the
hoax
hypothesis
cannot
possibly
explain
the
semantic
patterns
he has
discovered.
He is
aware
that his
analysis
leaves
many
questions
still
unanswered,
such as
whether
it is an
encoded
version
of a
known
language
or
whether
a
totally
invented
language.
'After
this
study,
any new
support
for the
hoax
hypothesis
should
address
the
emergence
of this
sophisticated
structure
explicitly.
So far,
this has
not been
done.
There
must be
a story
behind
it,
which we
may
never
know,'
Dr
Montemurro
adds." [Ibid.
Quotation
marks
altered
to
conform
with the
conventions
adopted
at this
site. Paragraphs
merged.]
And now, in
February 2014, there is this:
"A
breakthrough has been made in attempts to
decipher a mysterious 600-year-old
manuscript written in an unknown language,
it has been claimed. The Voynich Manuscript,
carbon-dated to the 1400s, was rediscovered
in 1912, but has defied codebreakers since.
Now, Bedfordshire University's Stephen Bax
says he has deciphered two words, which
could lead to more discoveries. The
manuscript, which some think is a hoax, is
full of illustrations of plants and stars,
as well as text. It has been latched on to
by supporters of a whole range of strange
theories including some linking it to
Leonardo da Vinci or even aliens....
"In
June last year, Marcelo Montemurro, a
theoretical physicist from the University of
Manchester, UK, published a study which he
believes shows that the manuscript was
unlikely to be a hoax. Dr Montemurro and a
colleague, using a computerised statistical
method to analyse the text, found that it
followed the structure of 'real languages'.
"In
February this year, a paper published in the
journal of the American Botanical Council
said one of the plant drawings suggested a
possible Mexican origin for the manuscript.
Prof Bax, an expert in applied linguistics,
said he had been working on the Voynich
Manuscript for about two years. He said he
had managed to find the word for Taurus,
alongside a picture of seven stars (seen as
part of the zodiac constellation of Taurus)
and the word Kantairon alongside a picture
of the herb Centaury. Prof Bax said he had
been trying to crack the manuscript using
his knowledge of medieval texts and his
familiarity with Semitic languages like
Arabic.
"'I
hit on the idea of identifying proper names
in the text, following historic approaches
which successfully deciphered Egyptian
hieroglyphs and other mystery scripts, and I
then used those names to work out part of
the script,' he said. 'The manuscript has a
lot of illustrations of stars and plants. I
was able to identify some of these, with
their names, by looking at medieval herbal
manuscripts in Arabic and other languages,
and I then made a start on a decoding, with
some exciting results. My aim in reporting
on my findings at this stage is to encourage
other linguists to work with me to decode
the whole script using the same approach,
though it still won't be easy. But already
my research shows conclusively that the
manuscript is not a hoax, as some have
claimed, and is probably a treatise on
nature, perhaps in a Near Eastern or Asian
language.'
"Prof Bax said
he hopes a conference can be arranged later
this year, to bring together experts on the
manuscript." [Quoted from
here;
accessed 19/02/2014. Quotation marks altered
to conform with the conventions adopted at
this site. Several paragraphs merged.]
The
incapacity of cryptographers to ascertain the "theme" of manuscripts like this
has clearly played no part in the success or failure of researchers to decipher
these texts (whether or not they have ever heard of "theme", or care a fig about
it).
But, let us
suppose
The Voynich Manuscriptis
a hoax; in that case, and if meaning were occasion-, speaker-, author-, or
intention-sensitive, the meaning of its words would be plain; they would mean
something like this: "You lot are idiots for not spotting this hoax earlier!",
or "How clever must I be for fooling you smart Alecs for so long!" -- or even
"The meaning of this manuscript is that it hasn't got one!" -- or some such.
Indeed, cryptographers would be able come to a similar conclusion within minutes
of discovering such manuscripts, thus saving themselves the bother of having to
decode them. All they need do in such circumstances is reflect on their
own subjective response to these texts -- and that would be what these
strange words mean.
That they
don't do this, and show no sign even of entertaining for one
second such a crazy strategy, suggests that they don't think meaning is
occasion-sensitive, at least not here -- and that they are right to reject such
an approach.
[On this,
see Kennedy and Churchill (2004); see also
here, and, more recently,
here.]
"Last week, a history researcher and television writer named Nicholas Gibbs
published
a long article in the Times Literary Supplement about how he'd
cracked the code on the mysterious Voynich Manuscript. Unfortunately, say
experts, his analysis was a mix of stuff we already knew and stuff he couldn't
possibly prove. As soon as Gibbs' article hit the Internet, news about it spread
rapidly through social media (we
covered it at Ars too), arousing the skepticism of
cipher geeks and scholars alike. As Harvard's Houghton Library curator of
early modern books John Overholt
put it on
Twitter, 'We're not buying this Voynich thing, right?' Medievalist Kate
Wiles, an editor at History Today,
replied,
'I've yet to see a medievalist who does. Personally I object to his
interpretation of abbreviations.'
"The weirdly-illustrated
15th
century book has been the subject of speculation and
conspiracy theories since its discovery in 1912. In his
article, Gibbs claimed that he'd figured out the Voynich
Manuscript was a women's health manual whose odd script was
actually just a bunch of Latin abbreviations. He provided
two lines of translation from the text to 'prove' his point.
"However, this isn't sitting
well with people who actually read medieval Latin. Medieval
Academy of America director Lisa Fagin Davis
told The Atlantic's Sarah Zhang, 'They’re not
grammatically correct. It doesn’t result in Latin that makes
sense.' She added, 'Frankly I’m a little surprised the TLS
published it... If they had simply sent to it to the
Beinecke Library, they would have rebutted it in a
heartbeat.' The Beinecke Library at Yale is where the
Voynich Manuscript is currently kept. Davis noted that a big
part of Gibbs' claim rests on the idea that the Voynich
Manuscript once had an index that would provide a key to the
abbreviations. Unfortunately, he has no evidence for such an
index, other than the fact that the book does have a few
missing pages.
"The idea that the book is a
medical treatise on women's health, however, might turn out
to be correct. But that wasn't Gibbs' discovery. Many
scholars and amateur sleuths
had already
reached that conclusion, using the same evidence that
Gibbs did. Essentially, Gibbs rolled together a bunch of
already-existing scholarship and did a highly speculative
translation, without even consulting the librarians at the
institute where the book resides.
"Gibbs said in the
TLS article that he did his research for an unnamed
'television network.' Given that Gibbs' main claim to fame
before this article was a series of books about
how to write and sell television screenplays, it seems
that his goal in this research was probably to sell a
television screenplay of his own. In 2015,
Gibbs did an interview where he said that in five years,
'I would like to think I could have a returnable series up
and running.' Considering the
dubious accuracy of many History Channel
'documentaries,' he might just get his wish." [Annalee
Newitz at the Ars Technica website, accessed
03/01/2018. Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions adopted at this site. Links in the original.
Several paragraphs merged.]
Update August 14 2019: Although,
this article in The Washington Post (pay wall!) says every attempt so
far to decipher this manuscript has in fact failed.
However, not one single expert involved in this controversy has bothered
to point out the obvious -- or, what is 'obvious' to DM-fans who look to
Voloshinov for guidance -- that since no one knows the "theme" of this
manuscript,
it can't be decoded. Don't they 'understand' dialectics, for goodness sake!
It could be
argued, once again, that written and spoken languages are different. But, that
isn't so; on that, see
here.
Finally, someone could object that Voloshinov has an answer to this in his
distinction between "theme" and meaning. That seemingly promising life-line will
be severed,
presently.
17.It would be interesting to see how
defenders of Voloshinov's 'theory' try to extricate him from this particular
quagmire by uttering or writing nothing but meaningless sentences!
[Once more,
on Voloshinov's appeal to "standard meanings", see
Note 18a0, below.]
Again, it
could be objected that this confuses "theme" and meaning, or it ignores the
distinction between them. This topic will be examined
presently, where we will see
that Voloshinov himself confuses these two words/'concepts'!
18.Of course, since these "possible
meanings" -- expressed in some language or other -- haven't actually been
uttered yet, the words comprising them must be meaningless, too! In which
case, there can be no "possible meanings" for an uninterpreted utterance
to mean, if Voloshinov were correct.
And, even if
the above were based on a misunderstanding of what Voloshinov himself meant by
his theory (irony intended), these hypothetical "possible meanings", if
expressed in some language or other, will face the same occasionalist
protocols: that they, too, must be occasion-sensitive and in need of
interpretation, and hence susceptible to their own "possible meanings"..., and
so on.
On the other
hand, if this (looming) infinite regress is capable of being stopped at any
point -- i.e., if we take some utterance, or some "possible meaning", to be sui generis
comprehensible without reference to its own occasion of utterance or
interpretation --, then there seems to be no good reason why this can't apply
to the original utterance itself.
18a0.
It could be argued that an utterance would have a meaning (and known to have
that meaning) by the one uttering it. But, if so, that meaning must be known
before it was uttered, otherwise the one doing so wouldn't have uttered it,
but would have come out with a different utterance. But, if that were so, the
meaning of that utterance can't be occasion-sensitive since it hasn't been used
yet! Either that, or it would have no meaning since it hadn't been uttered in a
given situation.
It could be
replied that whoever utters a given sentence knows what she intends that
sentence to mean (in those circumstances) before the relevant words leave her
mouth. But, if that were so, then, and once more, any words would do, and
we would be back where we were a paragraph ago.
On the other
hand, if a specific set of words is chosen, then those words must have
standard meanings, and known to have them -- or, and once again, any old
words would do. And yet, if any old words won't do, then meaning
can't be occasion-sensitive.
It is worth
pointing out that a standard meaning isn't the same as an intrinsic
meaning.
I
return to this issue in the
main body of this Essay, where I discuss what I have called "immediate
languages".
18a.
Indeed, if the meaning of words changed with each utterance, the
Oxford English Dictionary, for example, would need updating several hundred
thousand times per second, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week!
[Again, on
Voloshinov's appeal to "standard meanings", see
Note 18a0, above.]
18b.
It isn't easy to decide if every occasion of utterance is indeed unique since
the phrase "occasion of utterance" is itself hopelessly vague! Is it a
geographical location? If so, how wide should the net be cast? Are the relevant
surroundings of an utterance circumscribed by a circle with radius five metres,
ten metres, fifty metres? Or, is it an ellipse, a hexagon? If we go into three
dimensions, is it a sphere, an
ellipsoid,
an
hyperboloid, or some other
quadric?
Or, is the
time/timing of the utterance decisive, here? Once again, are we talking about
the exact length of time the relevant words took to be uttered, or a few seconds
either side? Do we all therefore have to carry around with us accurate
stopwatches to make sure we don't become too generous (or too restrictive) -- or
too random -- in our timing of any given utterance?
Alternatively, do interpersonal, psychological considerations enter in? If so,
which of these countless "considerations" are relevant? And where can we access
or download the manual that informs us what is and what isn't allowed? Or, do we
all just have to guess?
It could be
objected that the above questions are far too pedantic and nit-picking. But,
these are the sort of questions that a genuine science would be ready to ask and
then answer. Not so with
Mickey Mouse
Dialectical 'Science'.
19.
As we will soon
see, there
are good reasons for rejecting this way of conceptualising language. Little
sense can be made of such a tightly constrained speaker's
idiolect --
i.e., some form of idiosyncratic "inner
speech".
20.
This use of the word "know" isn't meant to relate to factual knowledge,
since, manifestly, few of us are aware of this facility. It is more akin to the
distinction drawn by
Gilbert Ryle
sixty or more years ago between "knowing that" and "knowing how". Here, it is as
much "knowing when" as it is "knowing how". So, just as we know when to put one
foot in front of another as we walk -- which knowledge can't be reduced to any
form of "knowing that" --, competent speakers know when certain combinations of
words can sensibly be uttered, and thus the sorts of contexts in which they can
plausibly appear or be used. Hence, we don't expect someone, for example, to
comment on the remarkable size of Blue Whales or the tensile strength of steel
when they have been asked what sort of day they have had at work, or what the
time of the next train is. And that is why several of the sentences listed in
the main body of this Essay will stand out as extraordinarily odd, since the
sort of contexts in which they might occur, or be uttered, aren't those we meet
every day, if at all.
So, for
instance, the following sentences appear rather strange (situated where they are
on this page -- or your screen) since we can all imagine circumstances in which
it would be appropriate to utter them, none of which seem relevant:
V1: "Move, and you're dead!"
V2: "Your house has just burnt down!"
V3: "Those pickets will stop you
strike-breaking!"
V4: "The Nazis know where you live!"
V5: "Margaret Thatcher is your
biological mother!"
V6: "Tony Blair really admires you!"
However, if
Voloshinov's theory were correct, and anything could mean anything, then
each of the above will be appropriate in any and all circumstances. Voloshinov
has a reply of sorts to this which will be considered
below.
It is worth
adding at this point that many sentences that we either encounter, utter or
write are completely novel, as indeed are one or two of those listed above. For
example, it is highly unlikely that anyone (other than Thatcher's children,
perhaps) has ever heard or uttered, say, V5 before. But, as pointed out above,
we can all imagine situations where it would be appropriate to come out with V5.
And that is because we already understand it. Of course, this isn't to
suggest that things are always this clear cut; however, further consideration of
this topic will take us too far away from the main aims of this Essay. [Those
who wish to explore this topic further should begin with the work of
Paul Grice
-- as well as the books and articles listed
here --
see, for example, Grice (1989).]
Ryle's
distinction can be found in Ryle (1946,
1949a) -- this links to a PDF. Incidentally, I am well aware that this
distinction has been challenged recently -- for example, in Stanley and
Williamson (2001). On this, see the reply in Rosefeldt (2004) and Wiggins (2009,
2012). See also Brown (1970).
20a.
Of course, part of the problem here is that the word "meaning" is itself highly
ambiguous. I tackle that particular 'difficulty'
here and
here -- and, indeed, throughout much of
the next two main sub-sections.
21.
Just because I have used "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" to make the
point that it is meaningless that doesn't imply that "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ
TTT" means
"BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT is meaningless". If it did then clearly "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ
TTT" would mean "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT is meaningless", which in turn would mean
that "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" isn't meaningless after all! In which case,
"BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" would imply that BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT is meaningless and
BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT isn't meaningless!
Nor does it
mean that just because I
intended to show that "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" is meaningless that it is
meaningless just because that was so intended by me. It was meaningless before I
used it, and after. If we exclude the possibility that this string of
letters is some sort of code, or is intended to be a code (on this, see below),
intentions can't turn babble into sense, nor the other way round. But, that fact
didn't prevent the present author from using "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" to point out
that it was indeed meaningless. Neither does it prevent anyone else
understanding the present author's (speakers') meaning to that end, even though
whatever was, or could be said by using "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" is linguistically
meaningless, for all that.
Now, while
the above
shenanigans might not have been without meaning (i.e., they weren't
pointless), the inscription used (i.e., "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT") was
nonetheless meaningless. But, this isn't a distinction a follower of
Voloshinov can make. [On that, see
here and
here.]
This also
shows that linguistic meaning
isn't based on the itinerant use to which sounds or inscriptions are put.
It could be
argued that someone could intend "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" to mean, say, "Memory
card in office safe", as a sort of code. In that case, it would seem that
intentions can
create a meaning from mere babble. But, even here, "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" is
code for "Memory card in office safe", not that it literally means
this in English. No one is going to revise a dictionary and list as one of the
synonyms of, say, the word "card" the letters "XXX". The intention here is
clearly that the recipient of the code should use a code-decode manual, or key,
to interpret the secret letters, not revise the language! [On this, also see
Note 14a.] In this case, "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" would acquire a
(temporary) coded meaning from the manual used to translate out of, and then
back into, English (or some other natural language as the case may be). Here, it
is clear that "coded meaning" is a variant on "speaker's meaning".
Of course,
the problem is that it is all too easy to conflate speaker's meaning with
meaning in language. So, someone could mean by "XXX" (speaker's meaning) "card"
(for example, as part of the above code), but, as we have seen, that wouldn't
alter the meaning of "card" in English. Clearly, in this case, "XXX" would gain
its (temporary) speaker's meaning from a word already in use and which
already has a meaning in English. It is only because of this that "XXX"
could gain this temporary coded meaning.
In addition,
this entire topic has been complicated by the fact that "meaning" has many
meanings already. [On that, see
here.] Furthermore, this is
further aggravated by the conflation of the meaning of words with the meaning,
and then the sense, of a sentence. As it stands, "BBB XXX ZZZ QQQ TTT" is both a
nonsensical and a non-sensical string of letters. [On the distinction
between "nonsense" and "non-sense" see
here.] It has no
meaning in language even though, when used, it has a speakers' meaning in this
Essay.
22.
This point doesn't undermine Wittgenstein's notorious claim that meaning and use
are the same -- since he
never made such a claim!
What Wittgenstein actually said
was this:
"For a large class of cases -- though not for
all -- in which we employ the word 'meaning' it can be defined thus: the meaning
of a word is its use in the language." [Wittgenstein (1958), §43, p.20e.
Italic emphasis in the original; Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions adopted at this site.]
Not
everything that has a use has a meaning, and not everything with a meaning will
have that meaning connected with its use (narrowly conceived). [For an example
of a string of letters that has a use but
no meaning see Note 21,
above.]
Several of
the fine distinctions that can be drawn
here alone are explored in great detail in Hallett (1967); cf., also
Hallett (1984, 1988, 1991, 2008). See also Baker and Hacker (2005a), pp.129-58,
Hanfling (1989), pp.31-54, Hanfling (2000), Hacker (2010), Horwich (2010), Ryle
(1971c, 1971d), Skorupski (1997), and Whiting (2010b). However, these works
(and, indeed, Wittgenstein's own comments) should be read in the light of
Kuusela (2005, 2006, 2008). Although, it should be pointed out that many of the
above also tend to run together the meaning of words and the meaning, and then
the sense, of a sentence.
Nevertheless, even though it represented an important advance, Wittgenstein's
discussion of meaning is in the end unsatisfactory since he too failed to
consider the many and varied meanings of the word "meaning" itself! [On
that, see
here.] Wittgenstein wasn't a systematic thinker.
23.
For example, Voloshinov's view that the use of language (i.e., "signs") is a
social not an individual psychological phenomenon is underlined in the
following passage:
"In point of fact, the speech act, or more
accurately, its product -- the utterance, cannot under any circumstances be
considered an individual phenomenon in the precise meaning of the word and
cannot be explained in terms of the individual psychological or
psychophysiological conditions of the speaker. The utterance is a social
phenomenon." [Voloshinov (1973), p.82. Boldemphasis alone
added.]
However, several other things Voloshinov
says run counter to this quasi-Wittgensteinian idea (that communication is
primary, and that 'acts of cognition' aren't private, 'inner' phenomenon). For
example, he tells his readers the following:
"The distinction between theme and
meaning acquires particular clarity in connection with the problem of
understanding….
"Any genuine kind of understanding will
be active and will constitute the germ of a response. Only active understanding
can grasp theme -- a generative process can be grasped only with the aid of
another generative process.
"To understand another person's
utterance means to orient oneself with respect to it, to find the proper place
for it in the corresponding context. For each word of the utterance that we are
in process of understanding, we, as it were, lay down a set of our own
answering words. The greater their number and weight, the deeper and more
substantial our understanding will be.
"Thus each of the distinguishable
significative elements of an utterance and the entire utterance as a whole
entity are translated in our minds into another, active and responsive, context.
Any true understanding is dialogic in nature….
Understanding strives to match the speaker's word with a counter word…."
[Ibid., p.102. Bold emphases alone added.]
"Idealism and psychologism alike
overlook the fact that understanding itself can come about only within some
kind of semiotic material (e.g., inner speech), that sign bears upon
sign,
that consciousness itself can arise and become a viable fact only in the
material embodiment of signs...understanding is a response to a sign with
signs." [Ibid., p.11. Italic emphasis in the original. Bold emphasis
added.]
"In the first instance,
to understand means to refer a particular inner sign to a unity
consisting of other inner signs, to perceive it in the context of a particular
psyche....
"Self-observation (introspection) is
the understanding of one's own inner sign.... We do not see or feel an
experience we understand it. This means that in the process of introspection
we engage our experience into a context made up of other signs we understand.
A sign can only be illuminated with the help of another sign." [Ibid.,
pp.35-36. Bold emphases alone added.]
So, while
Voloshinov certainly gestures
toward a sociological explanation of meaning, understanding and language, he
actually opts for a psychologistic and individualistic account of all three.
Indeed, Meredith William's judgement of Vygotsky could equally well be applied
to Voloshinov:
"Vygotsky attempts to combine a social
theory of cognition development with an individualistic account of
word-meaning.... [But] the social theory of development can only succeed if it
is combined with a social theory of meaning." [Williams (1999), p.275.]
[The rest of
that chapter in William's book (i.e., Chapter Ten, 'Vygotsky's Social Theory of
Mind', pp.260-81) is highly relevant.]
It could be
argued that this is unfair, since Voloshinov repeatedly says that all
signs, both inner and outer, are sociological -- for example, on pp.12,
34, 37, and 82.
However,
even though Voloshinov says
that all signs are social, it is also true that for him their processing
is an entirely private, 'inner' affair. This is no more a social picture of
meaning than would be one concerning, say, the activities of coin hoarders, if
they ignored the monetary value of the coins they collected and attached to them
their own sentimental or idiosyncratic value, and thereby thought that the value
of these coins depended on what they thought and felt about them. Monetary value
is social, just as coins are social products; but idiosyncratic value isn't.
The
important thing here isn't the response of sign upon sign, as Voloshinov
seems to think, but the social use of words. Signs themselves are
lifeless objects (as Voloshinov also seems to have acknowledged); it takes human
beings to give them life, and this takes place in a public, not a
private, arena. As Peter Hacker points out:
"It is indeed true that a sign can be
lifeless for one, as when one hears an alien tongue or sees an unknown script.
But it is an illusion to suppose that what animates a sign is some immaterial
thing, abstract object, mental image or hypothesised psychic entity that can
be attached to it by a process of thinking. [Wittgenstein (1969), p.4: 'But if
we had to name anything which is the life of the sign, we should have to say
that it was its use.'] One can try to rid oneself of these nonsensical
conceptions by simple manoeuvres. In the case of the idealist conception,
imagine that we replace the mental accompaniment of a word, which allegedly
gives the expression its 'life', by a physical correlate. For example, instead
of accompanying the word 'red' with a mental image of red, one might carry
around in one's pocket a small red card. So, on the idealist's model, whenever
one uses or hears the word 'red', one can look at the card instead of
conjuring up a visual image in thought. But will looking at a red slip of paper
endow the word 'red' with life? The word plus sample is no more 'alive' than the
word without the sample. For an object (a sample of red) does not have the
use of the word laid up in it, and neither does the mental image. Neither
the word and the sample nor the word and the mental pseudo-sample dictate the
use of a word or guarantee understanding.
"...It seemed to
Frege,
Wittgenstein claimed, that no adding of inorganic signs, as it were, can make
the proposition live, from which he concluded that [for Frege -- RL] 'What must
be added is something immaterial, with properties different from all mere
signs'. [Wittgenstein (1969), p.4.] He [Frege -- RL] did not see that such an
object, a sense mysteriously grasped in thinking, as it were a picture in which
all the rules are laid up, 'would itself be another sign, or a calculus to
explain the written one to us'. [Wittgenstein (1974a), p.40.] ... To understand
a sign, i.e., for it to 'live' for one, is not to grasp something other than the
sign; nor is it to accompany the sign with an inner parade of objects in
thought. It is to grasp the use of the sign itself." [Hacker (1993a), pp.167-68.
Italic emphases in the original. Link added.]
Hacker then
refers his readers to the following passage of Wittgenstein's:
"As for wishing or understanding being
merely the expression of the wish or the thought, the ordinary objection to it
is that no mere sign is the thought. The thought interprets the sign. Thinking
is not speaking or reading the symbols. Such an objection is rooted in the view
that thinking, or some process in the mind, accompanies the symbols. Now is this
supposed process something amorphous, a state having duration while the sentence
is said, written, or heard? Perhaps it is something articulate, so that
understanding a sentence consists of a series of interpretations for each word.
The process would be translatable into a sentence, so that we could derive the
sentence from the process or the process from the sentence. But this only adds
one phenomenon to another." [Wittgenstein (1979a), pp.53-54.]
But, the
"addition of one phenomenon to another" gets us nowhere, for the whole point of
this 'explanation of meaning', or of 'thought', was to bypass an appeal to
phenomena, since phenomena can't determine the sense of what we say or how we
mean; nor can words or 'signs', since they, too, are just lifeless phenomena
(again, as Voloshinov himself agrees).
Of course, to suppose otherwise --,
i.e., to imagine that words, or their 'inner representations', determine
their own meaning independently of the use to which humans put them in
material contexts -- would be to fetishise them, as noted
above.
Indeed, this
would be tantamount to believing that words (or their 'inner representations')
enjoy a social life of their own anterior to, and explanatory of, the linguistic
communion that takes place between human beings. If words (etc.) did in fact
acquire their own meanings, piecemeal, in that manner, and those meanings
followed words (etc.) about the place like a shadow, then the idea that language
is a social phenomenon would assume entirely different implications. In that
case, discourse would still be social, but that would be because words (etc.)
were the social beings here -- which would in turn mean that they had passed
that property on to our use of language! Humanity would be social because
our words already were!
We are now in a position to understand
why that is so: the supposition that a word (or, at least, its physical
embodiment, its 'inner representation', perhaps) can motivate a human agent
(causally or in any other way)
to regard it as the repository of its own meaning -- so that inferences can be
made from ink marks on the page (or from 'images', 'ideas', and
'representations' in the head) to super-empirical truths about 'Being',
or whatever -- would be to misconstrue the products of the social relations
among human beings (i.e., words) as if they were their own autonomous semantic
custodians, as creators and carriers of meaning themselves. In effect, this
would be to anthropomorphise words, treating them as if they had their
own history, social structure and mode of development. In this way, the social
nature of language would reappear in an inverted form as an expression of the
social life of words (etc.). Humanity would be atomised, linguistic signs (etc.)
socialised! [See also
here.]
But, this is
precisely the corner into which Voloshinov has painted himself. He clearly wants
to maintain that signs are social, but his theory holds that our understanding
is an 'inner' process, hidden away from social practice. In the end, despite his
claims to the contrary, and his obvious intentions, for him, it is the
social relation among the signs we have in our heads that determines meaning,
not the social relation among human beings that decides what our words mean:
"In the first instance,
to understand means to refer a particular inner sign to a unity
consisting of other inner signs, to perceive it in the context of a
particular psyche....
"Self-observation (introspection) is
the understanding of one's own inner sign.... We do not see or feel an
experience we understand it. This means that in the process of introspection
we engage our experience into a context made up of other signs we understand.
A sign can only be illuminated with the help of another sign." [Voloshinov
(1973), pp.35-36. Bold emphases alone added.]
The
following parable, taken from
Jonathan
Swift's
Gulliver's Travels, lampoons the idea that we could say things simply
with objects -- or just with their names --, or even that understanding is
facilitated by comparing sign with sign (as
Voloshinov believed), or to put
it more pointedly, with anything "in our heads", which are just more
"phenomena":
"We next went to the School of
Languages, where three Professors sat in Consultation upon improving that of
their own country. The first Project was to shorten Discourse by cutting
Polysyllables into one, and leaving out Verbs and Participles, because in
reality all things imaginable are but Nouns.
"The other, was a Scheme for entirely
abolishing all Words whatsoever; and this was urged as a great Advantage in
Point of Health as well as Brevity. For it is plain, that every Word we speak is
in some Degree a Diminution of our Lungs by Corrosion, and consequently
contributes to the shortening of our Lives. An Expedient was therefore offered,
that since Words are only Names for Things, it would be more convenient for all
Men to carry about them, such Things as were necessary to express the particular
Business they are to discourse on. And this Invention would certainly have taken
Place, to the great Ease as well as Health of the Subject, if the Women in
conjunction with the Vulgar and Illiterate had not threatened to raise a
Rebellion, unless they might be allowed the Liberty to speak with their Tongues,
after the manner of their Ancestors; such constant irreconcilable Enemies to
Science are the common People. However, many of the most Learned and Wise adhere
to the New Scheme of expressing themselves by Things, which hath only this
Inconvenience attending it, that if a Man's Business be very great, and of
various kinds, he must be obliged in Proportion to carry a greater bundle of
Things upon his Back, unless he can afford one or two strong Servants to attend
him. I have often beheld two of those Sages almost sinking under the Weight of
their Packs, like Pedlars among us; who, when they met in the Streets, would lay
down their Loads, open their Sacks, and hold Conversation for an Hour together;
then put up their Implements, help each other to resume their Burthens (sic),
and take their Leave.
"But for
short Conversations a Man may carry Implements in his Pockets and under his
Arms, enough to supply him, and in his House he cannot be at a loss: Therefore
the Room where Company meet who practise this Art, is full of all Things ready
at Hand, requisite to furnish Matter for this kind of artificial Converse." [Gulliver's
Travels, The Voyage to Balnibari,
Chapter 5. Some paragraphs merged.]
It could be
objected that showing one another various objects isn't at all the same as
comparing sign with sign. But, Voloshinov argued that anything could
serve as a sign:
"Signs are particular, material things; and, as
we have seen,any item of nature, technology, or consumption can become a
sign, acquiring in the process a meaning that goes beyond its particularity. A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point of
view. Every sign is subject to the criteria of ideological evaluation (i.e.,
whether it is true, false, correct, fair, good, etc.). The domain of ideology
coincides with the domain of signs. They equate with one another. Wherever a
sign is present, ideology is present, too. Everything ideological possesses
semiotic value." [Voloshinov (1973), p.10. Bold
emphasis alone added.]
In that
case, no one who agrees with Voloshinov can legitimately object to the above
lampoon by Swift -- which reveals the absurdity of thinking that comprehension
can be achieved by 'comparing signs'. In the above,
it is clear that signs are the agents and we are the patients.
There are
other fatal implications for Voloshinov's theory expressed in and by the above
passage; they will be unpacked as this Essay unfolds. [On this, see for example,
Note 41a.]
24.
This idea first appeared in published form in Wittgenstein (1972),
pp.39-41; 4.02-4.03 (this links to a PDF), which appeared in 1921. The idea
also saw light of day in his unpublished 'Notes on Logic' [Wittgenstein
(1913b)], and in Frege's unpublished work (written in 1914),after discussions
with Wittgenstein, as well as in an essay of his, published in 1923. [(Frege
(1914), p.225; Frege (1923).]
This idea has since been seized upon by Chomsky, the Chomskyans, and several
Analytic Philosophers, who transmogrified it into a theory of meaning (Michael
Dummett) or a theory of the computational nature of the 'human mind'
(Chomsky, et al) -- on this see, for example, Hacker (2013a), pp.136-44.
Although Hacker is rightly critical of the misapplication of this idea, he tends
to run-together Wittgenstein's and Frege's versions of it with that of the above
theorists, and, as a result, risks undermining the distinction between the
meaning of a word and the sense of a proposition. There is no suggestion in
Wittgenstein's use of this idea that language needs a 'theory of meaning' (or,
indeed, a 'transformational grammar') so that speakers are able to utter, or
form, indicative sentences. However, Hacker neglected to make this point,
which might suggest to some that he is in fact criticising Wittgenstein, when it
is reasonably certain he isn't. Nor does Hacker deny the obvious point
that we all understand sentences we have never read or heard before, even while
we all fail to understand words we have never encountered before. Nevertheless,
readers of Hacker's work will be forgiven concluding the opposite! He is so
intent on refuting dominant, contemporary theories of language and meaning that
his usual clarity of expression appears to have deserted him. [See also Baker
and Hacker (1984a), which contains a systematic demolition of all such theories.
On the latter, see
Note 31.]
Concerning a different, but related, Fregean idea: on the origin of the
linguistic version of The Context Principle, see Land (1974), Chapter
Four. While others toyed around with this precept, it assumed an entirely
different significance in Frege's work, and yet another again in Wittgenstein's.
Here are Frege's comments:
"[N]ever ask for the meaning of a word in isolation,
but only in the context of a proposition." [Frege (1953), p.x.]
"[W]e ought always to keep before our eyes a
complete proposition. Only in the context of a proposition have the words really
a meaning." [Ibid., p.71. Cf., also pp.73, 116.]
Plainly, Frege thought this is the case
since we typically
say things in sentences, which fact about us reveals what we mean by our words.
Otherwise we would typically say things using single words.
However, as pointed out later on in this
Essay, this is far too narrow a conception of meaning.
It also encourages the conflation
of the meaning of a word with the sense of a proposition, something Wittgenstein
had been at pains to distinguish, at least in his 'early' and 'middle' periods.
[On this see, Dummett (1956), Dummett
(1981a), pp.6-7, 192-96, 495-505, Dummett (1981b), pp.360-427, Dummett (1991a),
pp.180-240. For a different view of Frege, see Baker and Hacker (1984b),
pp.194-230, which is heavily criticised in Dummett (1984, 1988).]
Wittgenstein quoted this Fregean principle (or alluded to it) several times in
both his earlier and later work:
"Only propositions have sense; only in
the nexus of a proposition does a name have meaning." [Wittgenstein (1972), §3.3,
p.25]
"An expression only has meaning in a
proposition." [Ibid., §3.314, p.27.]
"For naming and describing do not stand
on the same level: naming is a preparation for a description. Naming is so far
not a move in the language-game -- any more than putting a piece in its place on
the board is a move in chess. We may say: nothing has so far been done,
when a thing has been named. It has not even got a name except in the
language-game. This is what Frege meant too, when he said that a word had
meaning only as part of a sentence." [Wittgenstein (1958), §49, p.24.
Italic emphases in the original.]
On the
connection between Frege and Wittgenstein and the different slant they put on
this principle, see Baker and Hacker (1984b). Cf., also Baker and Hacker
(2005a), pp.159-87, and Reck (1997). [Also see,
Note 29andNote 86, below.]
In fact,
Voloshinov had his own context principle of sorts -- cf., Voloshinov
(1973), p.36. But, as we have seen (in
Note 23), the sort of context to which he refers is that of other
dead signs. For Wittgenstein, on the other hand, our words come to life when
we use them, typically in sentences.
25.
Naturally, this means that those involved in any 'conversation' using this word
would need to know what sort of word was being employed here (i.e.,
whether it was the name of, or the name for something, whether it was a verb
(describing or expressing an activity, state, performance (etc.)), or whether it
was a modifier of some sort (adjective, adverb, etc.), and so on). As
Wittgenstein put it, they would have to know what "station" the word occupied in
language. [On this see, Harrison (1979), Hanna and Harrison (2004). Concerning
the distinction between a name for and a name of something, see
here.]
Nevertheless, these comments (about what speakers must know) should be
read in the light of Note 20, above.
On what
speakers do
know, see Devitt (2006). [However, the reader mustn't assume that I agree with
everything Devitt says about language and 'mind', particularly his insistence
that 'thought' precedes language --, a doctrine that seems at odds with much
of the rest of his book! On that, see
here.]
Incidentally, "Bogomil"
is the name of a religious sect that operated in the
Balkans in
the Middle Ages. [On this, see Lambert (1992).]
25a.
This isn't to deny that we also speak of the meaning of what is said, or of the
sentences used to say it. However, that doesn't undermine the distinction
between the meaning, and the sense, of an indicative sentence.
26.
This is a seriously neglected area in the Analytic Philosophy of Language.
Despite this, there is a reasonably accessible account of some of the background
to this in Hacking (1975).
A more
detailed picture can be found in Hallett (2008). Cf., also Skorupski (1997).
Although this distinction is widely recognised, as far as I know there is no
work that covers this topic in either a comprehensive or a satisfactory manner.
[On this, see Note 29 and
Note 30, below.] If anyone knows any different, please
e-mail me.
26a. It could be pointed out that we build
our sentences out of the meanings of the words they contain. In that way, our
sentences are actually constructed out of linguistic atoms. Hence, the
distinction between the meaning of a word and the sense of a sentence doesn't
undermine atomist theories of meaning, as was alleged in the main body of this
Essay. On that, see Note 29,
below.
27.
These two aren't unrelated. That theme will be explored at greater length in
Essay Twelve Parts Two, Three, Four and Seven (summary
here).
28.
Has anyone ever tried to explain (successfully!), say, to a child, or to a
foreign language speaker, what a certain word means that they have never
encountered before by appealing to the
intentions of the individual using it? That is, as opposed to explaining
why a certain individual might have said what they did, after the accepted
meaning of that word has been explained?
Of course,
if the meaning of sentences and
words were both context-, and intention-dependent, interlocutors wouldn't bother
putting sentences together, they would just mouth
single words at one another, the meanings of which could be ascertained from
the intentions so to utter them. Hence, instead of saying "I'm hungry", children
would only ever come out with "Food". Instead of saying:
"Let us take an example…. [:]
I'm hungry conjures up a general concept. When, however, we look at
different contexts in which the phrase might be used, we see how the evaluative
accent changes everything. A child saying this to her mother might be
indirectly a request for the mother to get her something, an enquiry about what
there is to eat, or a statement that she just feels like something to eat.
One adult saying it to another might mean that it's time for lunch and be a
suggestion that they go somewhere to eat…. In each case the context is not
merely the gloss on the meaning but constitutes different meanings --
different inevery aspect…." [Holborow (1999), p.28. Bold emphasis added.]
Holborow
could say…, er, well, what? "Different", perhaps --, or "controversial"?
However, the
complex ways we articulate language should have suggested to those enamoured of
Voloshinov's work that the meaning of a word and the sense of a sentence can't
be given an occasionalist slant howsoever one tries to do it.
29.
Such an account need not be general, nor need it be an explanation
of language (except in an elucidatory sense outlined
here) -- it
might simply describe it perspicuously (and that is so for reasons outlined in
Essay Twelve
Part One).
Other
considerations that are relevant here were well summarised by
David
Wiggins (the reader shouldn't conclude that I endorse everything it contains
-- particularly its indiscriminate use of "meaning" and "sense" in connection
both with words and sentences):
"It has been maintained by
Ryle
and others that words have sense in an only derivative manner, that they are
abstractions rather than extractions from sentence-sense. There is
something we must acknowledge and something we must reject in this doctrine.
What we must concede is that when we specify the contribution of words we
specify what they contribute as verbs or predicates or names or whatever, i.e.,
as sentence-parts, to a whole sentence-sense. Neither their status as this or
that part of speech nor the very idea of words having a sense can exist in
isolation from the possibility of words' occurrence in sentences. But this is
not yet to accept that words do not have sense as it were autonomously.
And they must. If our entire understanding of word-sense were derived by
abstraction from the senses of sentences and if (as is obviously the case) we
could only get to know a finite number of sentence senses directly, there
would be an infinite number of different ways of extrapolating to the senses of
sentences whose meanings we have to work out. But we do in fact have an agreed
way of working them out. This is because word-senses are autonomous items, for
which we can write dictionary entries.
Quine
has put the point in dispute so elegantly and concisely that it is enough to
quote him:
'The unit of communication is the sentence not the word. This point of
semantical theory was long obscured by the undeniable primacy, in one respect,
of words. Sentences being limitless in number and words limited, we necessarily
understand most sentences by construction from antecedently familiar words.
Actually there is no conflict here. We can allow the sentences full monopoly of
'meaning' in some sense, without denying that the meaning must be worked out.
Then we can say that knowing words is knowing how to work out the meanings of
sentences containing them. Dictionary definitions are mere clauses in a
recursive definition
of the meanings of sentences.'" [Wiggins (1971), pp.24-25; quoting Quine (1981),
pp.75-76. I owe this reference to Mark Platts; cf., Platts (1997), pp.23-24.
Link added.]
The above
passage was included because of the concise way it expresses the idea discussed
in the main body of this Essay. However, it demonstrates that there is no
room here for 'meaning atomism' -- the idea that we assign meanings to our words
atomistically. Even so, I will pass no opinion on whether or not we build our
sentences in the manner indicated. Nevertheless, all of us make do with a
vocabulary that is already part of our social network of communication,
the meaning of the overwhelming majority whose words we had no hand in
establishing.
Of course,
we must distinguish here between (a) Words as 'units of meaning' (understood as
outlined above) and (b) Words supposedly learnt atomistically, by each
individual in their own way, 'in their own head'. Expressed concisely in this
manner, (a) isn't inconsistent with anything written here, whereas (b) is. More
on this
below.
Admittedly,
there are widespread disagreements among
Analytic Philosophers about how to interpret the distinction between
word-meaning and sentence-sense, but that doesn't affect the distinction itself.
[On this, see Dever (2008), and
Szabó (2017); the first of these might prove rather challenging to anyone
not familiar with modern logic, the second perhaps much less so.]
Some might
object that the present author's views here clearly form part of a
philosophical theory, which puts them at odds with the
her own stated aims.
That isn't
so. The views expressed here are in fact part of an
elucidatory
"form of representation",
and as such form no part of a philosophical theory (on this, see Essay Thirteen
Part Two, when it is published in 2025). That is why I said earlier:
Such an account need not be
general, nor need it be an explanation of language (except in an
elucidatory sense outlined
here) -- it might simply describe it perspicuously (and this is so for
reasons outlined Essay Twelve
Part One).
However, on
this, also see the comments I have added
here.
Back in
1979, I was privileged to hear the late Michael Dummett read a paper at Bedford
College in London (later re-named Regent's College, which is now part of
Regent's University) that broke entirely new ground in this area. To the
best of my knowledge his paper hasn't been published -- although, Dummett (1987)
is the closest I know of to the content of that earlier paper. Readers are
directed there for more details. Anyone not familiar with modern logic might
find parts of that paper somewhat daunting.
30.
Clearly, Voloshinov's theory threatens to erode the difference between words and
sentences, as Wittgenstein noted:
"For naming and describing do not stand
on the same level: naming is a preparation for a description. Naming is so far
not a move in the language-game -- any more than putting a piece in its place on
the board is a move in chess. We may say: nothing has so far been done,
when a thing has been named. It has not even got a name except in the
language-game. This is what Frege meant too, when he said that a word had
meaning only as part of a sentence." [Wittgenstein (1958), §49, p.24.
Italic emphases in the original.]
31.
For example, the otherwise excellent book, Language, Sense and Nonsense
[Baker and Hacker (1984a)] is seriously compromised by its authors' adherence to
a sophisticated version of the same sort of confusion that afflicts Voloshinov's
work. Clearly, this isn't the place to enter into why Baker and Hacker rejected
(in all but name) the distinction outlined in the main body of this Essay.
Unfortunately, these two then proceeded to compound this error in Baker and
Hacker (1983a), pp.57-79, 145-70. As we will see, this serious defect can in
fact be traced back to certain aspects of
Wittgenstein's
work.
It is worth
pointing out here that the most forthright defence of "Occasionalism" (certainly
in the 'Wittgensteinian camp') is to be found in the writings of
Charles Travis; cf., Travis (1989, 2000, 2006). Travis's work might seem to
lend powerful support for the sort of analysis of language championed by
Voloshinov. However, even if Travis were correct (and there is good reason to
suppose he isn't; on that, see Bridges (2010)), it would be extremely difficult
to recruit his concept of meaning (etc.) to the cause defended by Voloshinov.
This isn't just because Travis's work is extremely difficult to read and almost
impossible to comprehend (Jerry
Fodor described Travis's writing style as analogous to "slugs mating" --
Times Literary Supplement, Number 5127, 2001, p.3), but because his brand of
"Occasionalism" is light years away from that endorsed by Voloshinov and the
comrades mentioned above. Moreover, if Travis were right (again, there is good
reason to suppose he isn't -- see below),
much of contemporary Cognitive Science (including those aspects Marnie Holborow
and John Parrington appear to endorse) can't be correct. Of course,
readers are invited to ascertain these facts for themselves by consulting
Travis's work -- and good luck with that one!
31aQuestions multiply rapidly: Is "theme"
the property of a sign, or an utterance? What is the "entity", or the "object",
mentioned at the beginning of this passage (re-quoted below)? Is it the point
of an utterance (i.e., why it was said, or what was hoped to be achieved by
uttering it)? Or is it who or what it was directed toward (e.g., the listener
perhaps, or the topic of conversation)? Is "theme" thus the significance
of an
utterance or of this non-descript
'object'? And, in view of its transient existence, is "theme" a sort of
trope? If each sign has its own "theme", as it seems each utterance, do
"themes" combine and act in consort in some way like instruments in an
orchestra? Is each utterance (or "verbal performance") a sign, or is it
each word?
"Let us agree to call the entity which
becomes the object of a sign the theme of the sign. Each fully
fledged sign has its theme. And so every verbal performance has its theme….
"The theme of an ideological sign and
the form of an ideological sign are inextricably bound together and are
separable only in the abstract…." [Voloshinov (1973), p.22. Bold emphasis added.
Italic emphasis in the original.]
"A definite and unitary meaning, a
unitary significance, is a property belonging to any utterance as a whole.
Let us call the significance of a whole utterance its
theme. The theme must be unitary, otherwise we would have no basis for
talking about any one utterance. The theme of an utterance is individual and
unreproducible, just as the utterance itself is individual and unreproducible.
The theme is the expression of the concrete, historical situation that
engendered the utterance. The utterance 'What time is it?' has a different
meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with our terminology, has
a different theme, depending on the concrete historical situation ('historical'
here in microscopic dimensions) during which it is enunciated and of
which, in essence, it is a part." [Voloshinov (1973), p. 99. Bold emphases
added. Italic
emphasis in the original.]
Here,
"theme" appears to belong to a whole utterance (perhaps as its occasional
meaning, part of that meaning, or its 'significance'), while at the same time it
is also the "entity" that becomes the "object" of a sign, and an
"expression of the concrete, historical situation that
engendered the utterance"!
With the best will in the world, it isn't easy to make much sense of this, and
it is little use searching through the writings of those who look to Voloshinov
for inspiration in this area, since they totally ignore these difficulties!
What is worse, they never even ask questions of this highly obscure passage.
But, when we
read further, the mystery only deepens, for Voloshinov says:
"...Only active understanding can grasp
theme -- a generative process can be grasped only with the aid of another
generative process." [Ibid., p.102.]
According to this, "theme" isn't:
"...the entity which becomes the
object of a sign...", [Ibid., p.99.]
but a
"generative process". Voloshinov is all over the place!
32.
It must be acknowledged, however, that Parrington did admit the following:
"The second fundamental feature of
Voloshinov's theory of consciousness which defines it as materialist lies is
[in?] the way it sees language as providing the individual consciousness with a
link to the outside world. Thus it is a view of consciousness that is grounded
in reality. The determining role of society is stressed continually throughout
Marxism and the Philosophy of Language. Having said this, what Voloshinov's own
work lacks is the
empirical scientific evidence
that proves such a connection exists.
Fortunately, such evidence is available in the extensive studies on child
development carried out by Vygotsky at around the time Voloshinov was writing.
Although Vygotsky approached the question of consciousness from a very different
angle, he came to very similar conclusions about the role of language in shaping
consciousness." [Parrington
(1997), p.133. Bold emphasis added.]
What little
evidence Parrington and others actually offer in support of Voloshinov will be
examined presently.
[Vygotsky's 'evidence' will also be reviewed in a later re-write of this Essay.]
Now, it
could be argued that Voloshinov is simply analysing familiar facts, of which we
are all aware, in order to make their significance plain. But, what "familiar
facts" are these? [Several possible candidates will be considered as this Essay
unfolds.]
Some might
complain here that although I criticise Voloshinov for omitting evidence in
support of his theory, the present author's work (especially this particular
Essay) is surely subject to the same criticism. Why is this a defect of
Voloshinov's work while it isn't of Rosa Lichtenstein's? "What evidence do
you offer in support of what you say?" it could be asked.
Of course,
this would be a valid criticism if I were offering here a scientific theory
of language, but since I'm not, it isn't. Moreover, my arguments largely
depend on familiar words (readily understood by all competent users of the
English language), not on technical terms and obscure concepts lifted from
Traditional Thought and a priori
Psychology. Any technical words that have been used in passing are either being
employed in order to expose their defects, or they can be (and often have been)
explained either in ordinary terms or by means of several links to Internet
resources that do this job for me.
It could be
objected that this response is inconsistent with an
earlier claim. In fact, what was said earlier was this:
The views expressed here are in fact
part of an
elucidatory "form of
representation" (and as such form no part of a philosophical theory...).
So, I am not offering a
scientific, or even a philosophical, theory, merely an
intervention in an ongoing debate about language, on a par with the things I say
later about evolution, psychology, or, in several earlier Essays, about
Mathematics and Physics. However, whenever I do make scientific or
factual claims, I invariably substantiate them with links or references -- Essay
Seven
Part One being a prime example of
such.
If anyone thinks differently, they
should
e-mail me, and, if correct, I will
apologiseprofusely
and provide the missing evidence, or withdraw the relevant claim. Would that
DM-fans did the same!
32a.
It could be countered that scientists do
in fact study extremely ephemeral sub-atomic objects and events all the time, so
why is this a problem for Voloshinov? However, quite apart from the fact that
we do not yet know what we are supposed to be looking for (this will
soon become apparent as the argument unfolds), the problem is that each "theme",
and each occurrence of it, is
totally unique. This isn't the case with sub-atomic particles, which can be
studied in repeatable experiments. Indeed, many of these particles are
absolutely identical, as we saw
here. [This
topic will also be addressed presently in the main body of the Essay. In
addition, see
Note 34, below.]
33.
Except, it is more like a transcendental assertion.
[A
Transcendental Argument is one that seeks to show what must be the
case for something else to be true, or to exist.]
34.
Even if a perfect (or as near perfect as possible) electronic (etc.) copy of
each conversation were recorded for study this would still fail to alter the
deflationary conclusions reached in the main body of this Essay -- indeed, as
Voloshinov himself incautiously admits:
"The utterance 'What time is it?' has a
different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with our
terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions) during which it
is enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part." [Voloshinov (1973), p.99.
Bold emphases added.]
Unless these
"microscopic dimensions" can also be captured and reproduced -- and how would
that be possible for anything other than a minor deity? --, "theme" plainly
can't be recorded. And, this isn't a conclusion that the present author has
imposed on Voloshinov's work, for he admits this himself:
"[T]heme must be unitary, otherwise we
would have no basis for talking about any one utterance. The theme of an
utterance is
individual andunreproducible, just as the utterance itself is
individual and unreproducible." [Ibid., p.99. Bold emphasis added.]
Hence,
ex hypothesi, "theme" can't be reproduced in an experiment and so can't
become the subject of a scientific enquiry into the actual circumstances of a
single conversation that has taken place in the entire course of human history.
[On this, see Note 36b.]
In which case, this half-baked
concept must have itself been imposed on reality,
not read from it -- once more, contrary to the claim that dialecticians never do this.
Naturally, if this were so, it
would cripple scientific research. Indeed, it would make communication
impossible, too.
This
confirms the fact that in any given speech community, human beings do
not proceed as Voloshinov suggests -- and neither do they interpret
each another's speech. They might interpret the words used by a foreign language
speaker, but not a homophonic (same language) interlocutor. This isn't to deny
that we sometimes
struggle to comprehend the odd or confusing things people sometimes say (in our
own language), but we don't do so typically.
It could be
argued that written language should be treated in an entirely different way to
the spoken word. However, Voloshinov himself equates the two:
"Any word used in actual speech
possesses not only theme and meaning in the referential, or content, sense of
these words, but also value judgement: i.e., all referential contents produced
in living speech are said or written in conjunction with a specific
evaluative accent. There is no such thing as a word without
evaluative accent." [Voloshinov (1973), p.103. Italic emphasis in the
original. Bold emphasis added.]
And, on the
same page, Voloshinov quotes a long passage from
Dostoyevsky to make his point clear. In that passage, six artisans use a
certain noun (which is in fact an expletive) in six different ways. Voloshinov
then says:
"All six 'speech performances' by the artisans are
different despite the fact that they all consisted of one and the same word...."
[Ibid., p.104. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.]
And yet,
Voloshinov is here referring to the
written word, in which case, even he sees that there is no intrinsic
difference between the written and the spoken word. [To be sure, they were
quoted words he was analysing, but they were still written quoted words.]
Moreover,
Voloshinov wrote at length in Chapter Two about the limitations of "abstract
objectivism" (making several valid points along the way, many of which could
well be directed against Chomsky's theory), but his main complaint about
philologists who study the written word isn't that the written word is different
from speech, but that:
"The philologist-linguist tears the
monument [by this, Voloshinov means written signs on monuments from the past or
the present, it seems -- see p.72, RL] out of the real domain and views it as if
it were a self-sufficient, isolated entity....
"The dead language the philologist
studies is, of course, and alien language...." [Ibid., p.73.]
This perhaps explains why Voloshinov
went on to say:
"A book, i.e., a verbal performance in print,
is also an element of verbal communication." [Ibid., p.95.
Italic
emphasis in the original.]
In which
case, we may conclude that there is for Voloshinov no intrinsic difference
between the spoken and the written word. The point he wished to make was that
active examples of both were still sociological events or phenomena, which would
be misunderstood or distorted if they were isolated from the stream of life in
which they had originally been embedded.
36.
To be sure, Voloshinov says that "theme" is indivisible -- but how does he know?
Scientists used to think atoms were.
Anyway, as
we are about to
discover, things aren't quite so
simple.
The
observation, in the main body of the Essay -- i.e., "unless we are to suppose
that each "theme" is timed to
coincide with the beginning and end of each speech act" --, raises several
serious problems of its own. What, for example, is the minimum linguistic unit
that is capable of generating (or expressing) a single "theme"? To be sure,
Voloshinov appears to want to pair "themes" with utterances (or "signs") --
which option is unavailable to him anyway, as will be argued presently in the
main body of this Essay --
and single words.
"Let us agree to call the entity
which becomes the object of a sign the theme of the sign. Each fully
fledged sign has its theme. And so every verbal performance has its theme."
[Voloshinov (1973), p.22. Bold emphasis added.]
"A definite and unitary meaning, a
unitary significance, is a property belonging to any utterance as a whole.
Let us call the significance of a whole utterance its theme…."
[Ibid., p.99. Italic emphasis in the original.]
In the first
passage, "theme" is the "object of a sign". In the second, it is the
"significance of a whole utterance". As we will see later, by "sign" Voloshinov
means practically anything that can be counted as one, and that includes single
words:
"Thus, side by side with the natural phenomena, with
the equipment of technology, and with articles for consumption, there exists a
special world -- the world of signs.
"Signs are particular, material things; and, as
we have seen, any item of nature, technology, or consumption can become a sign,
acquiring in the process a meaning that goes beyond its particularity. A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point of
view. Every sign is subject to the criteria of ideological evaluation (i.e.,
whether it is true, false, correct, fair, good, etc.). The domain of ideology
coincides with the domain of signs. They equate with one another. Wherever a
sign is present, ideology is present, too. Everything ideological possesses
semiotic value." [Ibid., p.10. Bold
emphasis alone added.]
But, even if
the second option were either possible, or indeed available, we would still be
no further forward unless we are told precisely what an "utterance" is in such a
context. Is it a word, a syllable, a
phoneme, a
phrase, a clause, a sentence, a paragraph, an entire speech, a book, a
conversation...?
Some may
object that Voloshinov is quite clear that utterances can be any or all of the
above. But, this response simply compounds the problem, for we have already been
told that any or all of these can represent different "themes", and that each
may in fact express several "themes". [On that, see
here.] So, for example, does an
uttered sentence express a single "theme", or is there a different "theme" for
each word? On this, see Note 36a1, below
36a.
It is worth recalling that according to Voloshinov "theme" isn't what is said,
but the "object" of what is said (or, perhaps, the "entity" that
becomes the "object" of a "sign") -- that is,
as far as can be ascertained. [Although he
changes his mind about this almost on
almost every page!] Such "objects" can of course change -- as dialecticians
themselves would be the first to acknowledge.
"Let us agree to call the entity which
becomes the object of a sign the theme of the sign. Each fully
fledged sign has its theme. And so every verbal performance has its theme….
"The theme of an ideological sign and
the form of an ideological sign are inextricably bound together and are
separable only in the abstract…." [Voloshinov (1973), p.22.
Italic emphasis in the original.]
36a1.
It could be objected that each
utterance is a specific token of a certain sentence type, individuated,
or relativised, to a specific time and place. That would allow us to pair-off
"themes" and "utterances", one-one. However, that interpretation is contradicted
by other things Voloshinov says; for example:
"The utterance 'What time is it?' has a
different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with our
terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions) during
which it is enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part." [Ibid., p.99.
Bold emphasis added.]
But, if the
utterance "What time is it?" is a
specific token, and not a type, individuated or relativised to a
time and place, it can't in fact be used again. Unique utterances
conceived this way can't be used at another time or place. This shows that
Voloshinov understood an utterance to be a
type sentence, capable of being used many times. If so, an utterance
can't
be paired with a "theme", after all, since "themes" are unique.
[It is worth
recalling that only type sentences can be used over and over as speakers or
writers instantiate its many tokens. If Voloshinov meant tokens here, since they
are occasion-specific, they couldn't be used again -- unless they were tokens
of a certain type.]
However, as
we will soon see, in the main body of this Essay,
things aren't
even this straight-forward!
36b.
To be sure, Voloshinov says that the
"theme" of an utterance is "unreproducible", but that doesn't mean that a given
"theme" might not be pairable with any one of the
example types given in the main body of this Essay, since "unreproducible"
doesn't necessarily mean "un-pairable" (or even "inexpressible by"). It could
mean (a) "totally unique", or (b) "not now capable of being produced". But,
even these are equivocal. For example, the original
Penny Black
is unreproducible (by definition and by fact), since that particular stamp is no
longer made, but that doesn't mean it can't be paired with other reproducible
stamps or envelopes in the here-and-now. Or, consider the late
Maria
Callas's voice: it is totally unique; no one is able to mimic it exactly.
But, that hasn't stopped it being reproduced on countless records and CDs.
In that
case, since, Voloshinov doesn't say what he meant by "unreproducible", the
options presented in the main body of this Essay can't be ruled out.
37.
Even if we were to appeal to neurological evidence (in the shape of brain scans,
etc.) to try to identify which 'thought' was associated with which "theme", that
would be of no assistance. No matter how sophisticated the science, we would
still be forced to identify the supposedly relevant brain waves, sets of
electrical impulses, or bursts of neurological activity, by reference to the
reports that subjects made of the thoughts they supposedly instantiated at that
time, or with which they were later correlated, etc. Hence, even hard-nosed
scientists will have to individuate 'thoughts' first by the use of
everyday criteria (which was the point of referring to what a subject might
report), not by the employment of physical evidence. In that case, since
"thought" would be used to interpret the relevant scientific evidence, the
latter would be parasitic on the former, not the other way round. That would
still be the case even if each subject was told what to think, or was induced
into thinking something indirectly by having to watch a film, or read a book or
a card. Here the use of everyday criteria would be transferred to the decisions
made by the experimenter, not the subject. And even if this were automated in
some way, by the use of computers (etc.), those criteria would now be
those applied by the programmer. It is impossible to edit out of the picture
human input or control at some point (and hence the application of such
criteria), even in the sciences (as was argued in detail in Essay Three
Part Two).
[Also see Note 38.]
It could be
argued that scientists might be able to compile a well-confirmed dictionary
or manual connecting these reports with certain events in the brain so that
they wouldn't have to appeal to such reports in the future. When, for example,
event E1
occurs in the CNS,
they could read-off from their manual that the subject involved was thinking,
say, "I'm hungry", and so on. In that case, we could learn to individuate
thoughts in this way.
But, even if
this were possible, it wouldn't help, for we have already been told that "theme"
is totally unique and unreproducible. If so, the scientists
involved in drawing-up this manual would be faced with the task of correlating
neurological events with something that is intrinsically unique. And if
that is the case, they wouldn't be able to repeat a single such reading,
since, ex hypothesi,
the "theme" it supposedly represented will never occur again! Hence, if
Voloshinov were correct, they wouldn't be able to confirm the accuracy of this
hypothetical manual; nor would they be able to distinguish any of these supposed
correlations from sheer coincidence.
Indeed, they wouldn't even be able to build such a manual in the first place;
Voloshinov's theory rules that out, too:
"The theme of an utterance is
individual andunreproducible, just as the utterance itself is
individual and unreproducible." [Voloshinov (1973), p.99. Bold emphasis
added.]
Since
scientists also use language, what they record is no less subject to the very
same equivocations as the utterances and thoughts of their subjects. [On this,
see Note 38.] Down that road I fear lies another infinite regress...
Independently of the above, even this aspect of neuroscience is contested
territory. On the correlations that neurophysiologists claim to have
found, and what critics have had to say about them, see
Note 53,and here.
38.
This is all quite independent of the fact that physical properties like these
would only be identifiable by the "theme" (or the utterance) they supposedly
accompanied. In order for observers to be able to say where one set of
identifying physical properties ends and another begins, some sort of reference
would have to be made to the "theme" that they instantiated, otherwise any
number of minor physical changes might be inadvertently roped in. In that case,
once more, "theme" would have to be individuated first
so that it could be individuated second! Hence, in order to pair-off a "thought"
with a "theme", so that the latter might be individuated, "theme" would have to
be individuated first! There is no way out of this circle.
Moreover, this process (or at least its
investigation) would be parasitic on the ordinary (reproducible) meanings
of any of the words used, which would, of course, render the whole exercise
pointless. [On this, see Note 39, below.]
Anyway, as
we
have seen, an
ascent into formal, technical or mathematical language in order to help solve,
or eradicate, any of the associated philosophical 'problems' would be no less
futile. That is primarily because they depend on
ordinary criteria for their construction and expression -- i.e., they
depend on those involved being able to recognise symbols, reproduce them
at will, write them down accurately, double check what has been written down,
explain themselves to others (if required), etc., etc., -- if they are to be
rendered comprehensible by anything recognisably human. Moreover, such
technical 'fixes' invariably re-duplicate the 'problems' they had originally
been introduced to solve. In this case, of course, among other things, the
reproducibility factor here renders formal devices useless in the study of
"theme", which is why the phrase was italicised. "Theme" is
"unreproducible", so we are told.
[On the
futility of appealing to formal devices to solve philosophical 'problems', see
Essay
Five and
Essay Twelve Part One. See also,
Hacker (2007b).]
39.
Similar difficulties would also bedevil any attempt to explain what might
have been meant (or "themed") by any of the words a speaker uttered -- i.e.,
whether or not that attempt itself was aimed at interpreting what had just been
said by someone else, or whether it formed part of a study of sets of words
linked to context-types in general -- including, if you will, all that is
written in Holborow's book, as well as in Parrington and Doherty's articles.
In short,
the transient nature of "theme" will unavoidably scupper any attempt made by
anyone to explain any other "theme", since everything the above comrades might
have said or written on this topic, for example, would possess its own ephemeral
and unreproducible "theme", and so on, ad infinitem.
[To be sure,
some might think that Voloshinov thought to distinguish the spoken from the
written word, but that 'difficulty' has already been
covered.]
In which
case, this would put an end to the scientific study of "theme", for, as noted
above, not only would the latter be forever inaccessible, the writings of those
studying 'it' would also be subject to the very same constraints; their
"themes" would be forever inaccessible, too. And, if Voloshinov is to be
believed, without access to its "theme", a body of text or an utterance would be
incomprehensible:
"…The theme must be unitary, otherwise
we would have no basis for talking about any one utterance. The theme of an
utterance is individual and unreproducible, just as the utterance itself is
individual and unreproducible. The theme is the expression of the concrete,
historical situation that engendered the utterance. The utterance 'What time is
it?' has a different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in accordance with
our terminology, has a different theme, depending on the concrete historical
situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions) during which it is
enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part.
"It follows, then, that the theme of an
utterance is determined not only by the linguistic forms that comprise it --
words, morphological and syntactic structures, sounds, and intonation -- but
also by extraverbal factors of the situation. Should we miss these
situational factors, we would be as little able to understand an utterance as if
we were to miss its most important words. The theme of an utterance is
concrete -- as concrete as the historical instant to which the utterance
belongs.
Only an utterance taken in its full, concrete scope as an historical
phenomenon possesses a theme. That is what is meant by the theme of an
utterance." [Voloshinov (1973), pp.99-100. Bold emphases alone added.]
But, that would render Voloshinov's book
incomprehensible since no one (now) has access to its "theme", even if it once
had one!
40.
Any attempt to play the usual 'get-out-of-jail-free' card here (along the lines
that dialectics is meant to be contradictory, so no wonder Voloshinov
said inconsistent things -- or, perhaps even: these criticisms ignore the
"identity-in-difference" [IED] between "theme" and meaning) would be to no
avail, either. The first tactic was called the "Nixon
Defence" in Essay Eight Part One (the reader is referred back to that
discussion for more details), and the second was neutralised in
Essay Six.
However,
with respect to the second line of defence (the IED-ploy), while there might
indeed be a difference between meaning and "theme", since we are still unclear
what "theme" is,
it is far from obvious what the alleged
identity relation is supposed to operate between!
In fact,
meaning seems to share none of the characteristics of "theme", so these two
can't be identical. [More on this
later.]
41.
Of course, two can play at that game. In view of all the difficulties,
confusions and equivocations we have encountered in relation to Voloshinov's
ideas, one is tempted to respond by pointing that those who wish to employ
"theme" to explain
understanding in effect want to switch on a light after having
smashed the light bulb, destroyed the switch, ripped out the wiring, cut the
mains, razed the power station, bulldozed the wind farm, flooded the coal mine,
demolished the dam, set fire to the oil refinery, blown up the gas field and
extinguished the Sun.
41a0.
An appeal to approximate understanding must fail, too. If E1 were
correct, we wouldn't even understand the phrase "approximate understanding"!
E1: Well, we never really
understand one another, do we?
41a.
In fact, as we
have already seen, Voloshinov is torn between a Marxist interpretation of
language as a sociological and communicational phenomenon, and the bourgeois
individualist, traditional view that language is individual and primarily
representational. So, in places he says things like this:
"Signs can arise only on
interindividual territory. It is territory that cannot be called 'natural'
in the direct sense of the word [Added in a footnote: Society, of course, is
also a part of nature, but a part that is qualitatively separate and
distinct and possesses its own specific systems of laws.]: signs do not
arise between any two members of the species
Homo sapiens.
It is essential that the two individuals be organised socially, that
they compose a group (a social unit); only then can the medium of signs take
place between them.The individual consciousness not only
cannot be used to explain anything, but, on the contrary, is itself in need of
explanation from the vantage point of the social, ideological medium.
"The individual consciousness is a
social-ideological fact. Not until this point is recognised with due
provision for all the consequences that follow from it will it be possible to
construct either an objective psychology or an objective study of ideologies....
"The only possible objective definition of consciousness is a sociological
one. Consciousness cannot be derived directly from nature, as has been and
still is being attempted by naive mechanistic materialism and contemporary
objective psychology (of the biological, behaviouristic,
and
reflexological
varieties). Ideology cannot be derived from consciousness, as is the practice of
idealism and psychologistic
positivism.
Consciousness takes shape and being in the material of signs created by an
organised group in the process of its social intercourse. The individual
consciousness is nurtured on signs; it derives its growth from them; it reflects
their logic and laws. The logic of consciousness is the logic of ideological
communication, of the semiotic interaction of a social group....
"All that has been said above leads to
the following methodological conclusions: the study of ideologies does not
depend on psychology to any extent and need not be grounded in it. As we
shall see in greater detail in a later chapter, it is rather the reverse:
objective psychology must be grounded in the study of ideologies. The
reality of ideological phenomena is the objective reality of social signs....
Individual consciousness is not the architect of the ideological superstructure,
but only a tenant lodging in the social edifice of ideological signs."
[Voloshinov (1973), pp.12-13. Bold emphases alone added. Spelling modified to
conform with UK English.]
"Thus every sign...is social." [Ibid.,
p.34.]
"[T]he sign and its social situation
are inextricably fused together. The sign cannot be separated from the
social situation without relinquishing its nature as a sign." [Ibid., p.37.
Italic
emphasis in the original.]
In the above
passages the social takes precedence. However, on other occasions he says
things like the following:
"Any ideological product is not only itself a part
of reality (natural or social), just as is any physical body, any instrument of
production, or any product of consumption, it also, in contradistinction to
these other phenomena, reflects and refracts another reality outside itself.
Everything ideological possesses meaning: it represents, depicts or
stands for something lying outside itself. In other words it is a sign.
Without signs there is no ideology. A physical body equals itself, so to
speak; it does not signify anything but wholly coincides with its particular,
given nature. In this case there is no question of ideology.
"However, any physical body may be perceived as an
image; for instance, the image of natural inertia and necessity embodied in that
particular thing. Any artistic-symbolic image to which a particular physical
object gives rise is already an ideological product. The physical object is
converted into a sign. Without ceasing to be a part of material reality, such an
object, to some degree, reflects and refracts another reality.
"A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point of
view…." [Ibid., pp.9-10.]
"Idealism and psychologism alike
overlook the fact that understanding itself can come about only within some kind
of semiotic material (e.g., inner speech), that sign bears upon sign,
that consciousness itself can arise and become a viable fact only in the
material embodiment of signs...understanding is a response to a sign
with signs." [Ibid., p.11.]
"After all, meaning can belong only to a
sign; meaning outside a sign is a fiction. Meaning is the expression of a
semiotic relation between a particular piece of reality and another kind of
reality that is stands for, represents or depicts....
"...[T]he semiotic material of the
psyche is pre-eminently the word -- inner speech." [Ibid.,
pp.28-29.]
"In the first instance,
to understand means to refer a particular inner sign to a unity
consisting of other inner signs, to perceive it in the context of a
particular psyche....
"Self-observation (introspection) is
the understanding of one's own inner sign.... We do not see or feel an
experience we understand it. This means that in the process of
introspection we engage our experience into a context made up of other signs we
understand. A sign can only be illuminated with the help of another sign."
[Ibid., pp.35-36.]
"The ideological sign is made
viable by its psychic implementation just as much as psychic implementation is
made viable by its ideological implementation. Psychic experience is
something inner that becomes outer and the ideological sign, something outer
that becomes inner. The psyche enjoys extraterritorial status in the
organism. It is a social entity that penetrates inside the organism of
the individual person. Everything ideological is likewise extraterritorial in
the socioeconomic sphere, since the ideological sign, whose locus is outside the
organism, must enter the inner world in order to implement its meaning as
sign." [Ibid., p.39.]
"Any genuine kind of understanding will
be active and will constitute the germ of a response. Only active understanding
can grasp theme -- a generative process can be grasped only with the aid of
another generative process.
"To understand another person's
utterance means to orient oneself with respect to it, to find the proper place
for it in the corresponding context. For each word of the utterance that we
are in process of understanding, we, as it were, lay down a set of our own
answering words. The greater their number and weight, the deeper and more
substantial our understanding will be.
"Thus each of the distinguishable
significative elements of an utterance and the entire utterance as a whole
entity are translated in our minds into another, active and responsive,
context. Any true understanding is dialogic in nature…. Understanding
strives to match the speaker's word with a counter word…. [Ibid.,
p.102.In all of the above, bold emphases alone added.]
Here,
signs are representational, and the language of meaning and understanding is
internal and individual. The social has been lost.
At this
point, Voloshinov's theory is (in some respects) reminiscent of Leibniz's 'windowless
monads'. The latter were supposed to be hermetically sealed off from one
another and, by implication, the rest of the universe. They had their entire
nature and history written into them by 'god' -- along with all their apparent
interactions and relations with other monads ("apparent" since, as noted above,
they actually possessed none of these interactions and relations, but only acted
as if they did). So, they were fundamentally isolated and atomic in nature (in a
logico-metaphysical sort of sense), while being paradoxically social (since that
was written into their contracts by 'god', so to speak, supposedly creating a
Harmonious Whole, "the best of all possible worlds"). So, even though they
reflected (logically, not physically) the rest of the universe, they were
in fact completely isolated from it. Voloshinov's theory suffers from an
analogous form of philosophical schizophrenia -- he clearly wants
his theory to be social, but the way he spells out the details means it is
fundamentally a-social.
It might be
argued that these two views don't in fact clash, they complement each
other. On that, see Note 23, above.
It could now
be objected that this interpretation of Voloshinov is incorrect, as Parrington
points out:
"The psyche is thus not
an internal but a boundary phenomenon. Or as Voloshinov put it, 'Individual
consciousness is not the architect of the ideological
superstructure, but only a tenant lodging in the social edifice of ideological
signs'." [Parrington
(1997), pp.129-30, quoting Voloshinov (1973),
p.13, and not p.39 as Parrington has it.]
In which
case, the individual psyche isn't an "internal" phenomenon, contrary to the
argument presented above, it is a "boundary phenomenon".
Or so it
could be argued.
And yet,
despite what Parrington asserts, I been unable to find anywhere in Voloshinov's
book where he says the psyche isn't an internal phenomenon (and
Parrington nowhere quotes Voloshinov to the effect that it is a "boundary
phenomenon"). Indeed, and quite the contrary, Voloshinov says things like this:
"Idealism and psychologism alike
overlook the fact that understanding itself can come about only within some kind
of semiotic material (e.g., inner speech), that sign bears upon sign,
that consciousness itself can arise and become a viable fact only in the
material embodiment of signs...understanding is a response to a sign with
signs." [Voloshinov
(1973),
p.11.]
"...[T]he semiotic material of the
psyche is pre-eminently the word -- inner speech." [Ibid.,
pp.28-29.]
"In the first instance,
to understand means to refer a particular inner sign to a unity
consisting of other inner signs, to perceive it in the context of a
particular psyche....
"Self-observation (introspection) is
the understanding of one's own inner sign.... We do not see or feel an
experience we understand it. This means that in the process of
introspection we engage our experience into a context made up of other signs we
understand. A sign can only be illuminated with the help of another sign."
[Ibid., pp.35-36.]
"The ideological sign is made viable
by its psychic implementation just as much as psychic implementation is made
viable by its ideological implementation. Psychic experience is something
inner that becomes outer and the ideological sign, something outer that
becomes inner. The psyche enjoys extraterritorial status in the organism. It is
a social entity that penetrates inside the organism of the individual
person. Everything ideological is likewise extraterritorial in the socioeconomic
sphere, since the ideological sign, whose locus is outside the organism, must
enter the inner world in order to implement its meaning as sign." [Ibid.,
p.39.In all of the above, bold emphases alone added.]
Not much
wiggle room there; the psyche is "internal" for Voloshinov (even if it can
become "outer" -- whatever
that means -- it certainly isn't a "boundary phenomenon").
It could be
countered that Voloshinov
explicitly says the following:
"Psychic experience is something
inner that becomes outer and the ideological sign, something outer that
becomes inner. The psyche enjoys extraterritorial status in the organism. It
is a social entity that penetrates inside the organism of the individual
person. Everything ideological is likewise extraterritorial in the
socioeconomic sphere, since the ideological sign, whose locus is outside the
organism, must enter the inner world in order to implement its meaning as sign."
[Ibid., p.39. Italic emphases in the original; bold emphases added.]
Even so,
while the above says that the psyche:
"enjoys extraterritorial status in the
organism. It is a social entity that penetrates inside the organism of
the individual person...",
and:
"Psychic
experience is something inner that becomes outer and the ideological sign,
something outer that becomes inner",
Voloshinov
still begins with the psyche as an internal phenomenon, whatever it might
later become. While the psyche deals with sociological signs, the latter only
become comprehensible when they have been processed internally by the
individual concerned.
[On this,
see Note 23and Note 41b. In fact,
as we discovered
earlier, Voloshinov's theory of signs and "inner speech" prevents anyone
from understanding either or both!]
Again this
would be like saying that monetary value is a social phenomenon, but then
immediately qualifying this by arguing that it is really up to each individual
to assign their own value to money. The former is completely undermined by the
latter.
41b.
This is a consequence of Voloshinov's belief that understanding is in fact a
relation between inner signs:
"Idealism and psychologism alike
overlook the fact that understanding itself can come about only within some
kind of semiotic material (e.g., inner speech), that sign bears upon sign,
that consciousness itself can arise and become a viable fact only in the
material embodiment of signs...understanding is a response to a sign with
signs." [Voloshinov (1973), p.11. Italic emphasis in the original. Bold
emphasis added.]
"In the first instance, to
understand means to refer a particular inner sign to a unity consisting of
other inner signs, to perceive it in the context of a particular psyche....
"Self-observation (introspection) is
the understanding of one's own inner sign.... We do not see or feel an
experience we understand it. This means that in the process of introspection we
engage our experience into a context made up of other signs we understand. A
sign can only be illuminated with the help of another sign." [Ibid.,
pp.35-36. Italic emphases in the original. Bold emphases added.]
How the
individual "psyche" manages to do all this is left entirely mysterious. All we
have before us are dead signs that are somehow related to one another. As
Wittgenstein noted, what gives them life is their
social use by human beings, not their alleged 'inner processing'. [On
this, see Note 23, and Stroud (1991, 1996).]
42.
Indeed, when we are
attending to something, extraneous sounds often impair any attempt to do so.
Moreover, a source that we could neither turn down nor switch off, and which is
present all the time we were awake would seriously impair our capacity to attend
to anything at all, as well as our ability to communicate or learn anything.
It could be
objected that this totally misconstrues the nature of "inner speech". But, how
do we know? We don't even know what "inner speech" is yet, let alone if it exists!
We have
already seen that this ancient idea goes
back at least as far as Plato; in its more modern form, it received its most
significant boost in the work of Vygotsky.
However, a
major recent study of the latter's work [i.e., Frawley (1997)] doesn't even
so much as itemise the (supposed) evidence that confirms the existence of
"inner speech", while another advocate of this 'concept' [i.e., Ushakova (1994)]
all but admits that Vygotskians not only can't agree what "inner speech" is,
they fail even to agree over how it manifests itself! To be sure, other
contributors to the same study as Ushakova [i.e., those found in Lantolf and
Appel (1994)] discuss the empirical research they have devoted to the study of
"inner speech" (i.e., in relation to second language acquisition), but they all
simply assume
this phenomenon exists (even while they all appear to disagree over exactly what
'it' is!), presenting no evidence at all that it does! In this respect,
their 'research' resembles that of other psychologists and scientists who waste
their time delving into
Parapsychological phenomena. This 'discipline' bears all the hallmarks
of a pseudo-science.
[I will add a few comments on Sokolov
(1975) to a later re-write of this Essay.]
43.
If
internal proximity were sufficient for understanding to take place
then a post box, for example, would be able to understand the mail it holds --
and a packet of three the condoms it contains. [Recall that inner processes are
no less physical than letters or condoms.]
Of course,
with words there is an obvious difference: they have meaning. But,
internal proximity alone
can't lend to words a meaning which it denies to postal items or diverse
prophylactic products. [On this, see Note
23.] Anyway, we have already seen that Voloshinov argues that anything
can be a sign:
"Signs are particular, material things; and, as
we have seen,any item of nature, technology, or consumption can become a
sign, acquiring in the process a meaning that goes beyond its particularity. A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point of
view. Every sign is subject to the criteria of ideological evaluation (i.e.,
whether it is true, false, correct, fair, good, etc.). The domain of ideology
coincides with the domain of signs. They equate with one another. Wherever a
sign is present, ideology is present, too. Everything ideological possesses
semiotic value." [Voloshinov (1973), p.10. Bold
emphasis alone added.]
That can
only mean that items of mail and prophylactic products must be 'signs', too.
Moreover, Voloshinov himself acknowledges that internal proximity can't lend to
words a meaning:
"Meaning does not reside in the word
or in the soul of the speaker or in the soul of the listener. Meaning is the
effect of interaction between speaker and listener produced via the material of
a particular sound complex." [Ibid., pp.102-03. Bold emphasis alone added.]
To be sure,
there is a further difference here: letters and condoms aren't
processes. Nevertheless, the only point being made here is that 'inner
proximity' isn't sufficient for an object to have meaning. Nor is the fact
that something is an 'inner process'. [I would go further, and claim that it
isn't even necessary. On occasion, Voloshinov seems to agree with this;
see the quotation above.] The digestive system, for instance, works 24 hours a
day, involving
inter alia
many different processes, but that doesn't imply that the contents of the
stomach have a meaning, or that a layer of
gastric
epithelia understands what a recently consumed kebab is trying to tell it.
It could be
countered that the processes in the
CNS are far more complex, and of a totally different order to those that
take place in the digestive tract. Maybe so, but the mere fact that they are
'inner' doesn't imply that the processes in the CNS have 'meaning', which is
all that this Note seeks to establish.
[On
Wittgenstein's point that signs and images can't lend to words their meaning
since they, too, are dead, see, for example, Stroud (1991, 1996), and
here.]
Complexity doesn't affect
this point, either, for no natural phenomena can lend meaning to our words --
again, as Voloshinov himself recognised. [On that, see
Note 23, once more.]
43a.
At this juncture, it is worth drawing the reader's attention (once again) to the
ancient (quasi-mystical) picture that underlies the idea that "inner speech" is
immediate to 'consciousness', while its 'outer' twin isn't. [On that, see Note 1.]
43b.
It could be argued that these processes take place in the
subconscious/unconscious, or they are processes about which we aren't
actually aware.
In fact, all that that response succeeds in achieving is the replacement of the
'little-man-in-the-head' sort of scenario with a 'little
invisible/hidden/secret/silent-man-in-the-head' sort of scenario. This is
just the 'ghost
in the machine' again -- and with a gag order.
To be sure,
Cognitive Scientists in general appeal to hidden processes and structures in the
CNS to account for
'thought' or language, even while they object to their theories being
characterised in this way -- that is, they take great exception to the claim
that they surreptitiously appeal to an homunculus
to account for our capacity to think or talk, etc. I will say no more about this
here since I discuss this topic in more detail
here, and in
Note 44,
Note 47, and Note 86, and
throughout much of the rest of this Essay.
43c.
This is an adaptation of and argument
found in Harman (1967), neatly summarised for us by
Michael Devitt:
"If a speaker's competence in a language
consists in having
knowledge-that of
its rules, then assuming RTM [The
Representational Theory of Mind -- RL], she must represent those
rules. That representation must itself be in a language. What is it to be
competent in that more basic language? If we suppose that the more basic
language is the same as the original language then we are caught in a
vicious circle. If we suppose that it is some other language ('Mentalese'
perhaps), then its rules also have to be represented. This requires a still more
basic language. And so on. The only way to avoid a vicious circle or an infinite
regress is to allow that we can be competent in at least one language directly,
without representing its rules. Why not then allow this of the original
language, the one spoken?" [Devitt (2006), p.92.]
43d.
The
difficulty some might still have in accepting this contention might be connected
with a failure to see that understanding is a publicly performed, checked and
monitored activity, not a privatised or atomised 'inner skill'. [On that,
see the references listed in Note 86.]
It could be
objected that we don't always understand one another. Indeed, but if Voloshinov
were correct, we couldn't understand one another. [I have responded to
that objection,
here.]
44.
As noted above, representationalists have a tendency to deny one or all of these
allegations, often pouring scorn on the accusation that their theory relies on
just such an
homunculus, or that elements of cognition are 'represented' somewhere in the
CNS.
[On the
disingenuous tactics adopted by representationalists, see Devitt (2006). See
also
Note 47, and the references listed in
Note 86, below. In fact, Devitt (2006) contains a sophisticated
demolition of this entire way of looking at language and mind. On this, see also Note 43c, above.]
It could be
objected
that the interpretation aired here appears to suggest that dialecticians view
understanding (etc.) as a passive sort of activity (hinted at by the use
of the sedentary couch potato analogy in the main body of this Essay, etc.),
when they manifestly don't do this. In fact, they stress the active,
interactive, practical side of understanding.
Nevertheless, even if this 'internal spectator' were presented as active,
it would merely resemble an inner keep fit fanatic. Either way, on this
view, meaning would still fail to be social, but private, based on a
hidden, secret, and individualised skill.
Indeed, "practice" in such a scenario would be confined to whatever takes place
inside each cranium!
It could be
argued that this is a gross caricature of the dialectical connection between
practice and cognition. But, that isn't so, and for reasons outlined in Essay
Three Part Two. Readers are
directed there for more details.
It could now
be objected that this misrepresents Voloshinov's theory, since it is quite clear
that he believes meaning emerges in the relationship between speakers, and that
this is a sociological phenomenon. Perhaps so, but the other things he
says (outlined in in Note 23 and
Note 41a) carry the opposite
implication.
45.
This inner individual only appears to be 'human' because of the
fetishisation of language upon which
this fable has traditionally been predicated. [Again, see
Note 23 on this.] There is in
fact no way this 'inner being' is human in any recognisable sense of that
word, since it enjoys no social life, and yetit magically possesses
powers of comprehension way beyond the relatively feeble abilities we possess
-- since, according to Voloshinov, we can't comprehend anything without it!
On this aspect of traditional theory, see Hacker (1993g, 2013), and
Kenny (1984b).
Of course,
given the scenario depicted by, for example, Daniel Dennett (outlined by Alex
Callinicos in Note 54,
below), our heads would
appear to be populated by countless rather dim 'human' surrogates. It is to be
hoped they have all been unionised for their own good! Such dimwits can't be
relied upon to defend, let alone recognise, their own interests.
[More on
this in Note 2, above, and Note 46,
below.]
45a.
An excellent example of the 'homunculus fallacy' is to be found in Kurzweil
(2013). As Colin McGinn points out:
"There is another glaring problem with
Kurzweil's
book: the relentless and unapologetic use of homunculus language. Kurzweil
writes: 'The firing of the axon is that pattern recognizer shouting the name of
the pattern: "Hey guys, I just saw the written word 'apple'.'"' Again:
'If, for example, we are reading from
left to right and have already seen and recognized the letters "A," "P," "P,"
and "L," the "APPLE" recognizer will predict that it is likely to see an "E" in
the next position. It will send a signal down to the "E" recognizer saying, in
effect, "Please be aware that there is a high likelihood that you will see your
'E' pattern very soon, so be on the lookout for it." The "E" recognizer then
adjusts its threshold such that it is more likely to recognize an "E."'
"Presumably (I am not entirely sure)
Kurzweil would agree that such descriptions cannot be taken literally:
individual neurons don't say things or predict things or see things -- though it
is perhaps as if they do. People say and predict and see, not little bunches of
neurons, still less bits of machines. Such anthropomorphic descriptions of
cortical activity must ultimately be replaced by literal descriptions of
electric charge and chemical transmission (though they may be harmless for
expository purposes). Still, they are not scientifically acceptable as they
stand.
"But the problem bites deeper than that,
for two reasons. First, homunculus talk can give rise to the illusion that one
is nearer to accounting for the mind, properly so-called, than one really is. If
neural clumps can be characterized in psychological terms, then it looks as if
we are in the right conceptual ballpark when trying to explain genuine mental
phenomena -- such as the recognition of words and faces by perceiving conscious
subjects. But if we strip our theoretical language of psychological content,
restricting ourselves to the physics and chemistry of cells, we are far from
accounting for the mental phenomena we wish to explain. An army of homunculi all
recognizing patterns, talking to each other, and having expectations might
provide a foundation for whole-person pattern recognition; but electrochemical
interactions across cell membranes are a far cry from actually consciously
seeing something as the letter 'A.' How do we get from pure chemistry to
full-blown psychology?
"And the second point is that even talk
of 'pattern recognition' by neurons is already far too homunculus-like for
comfort: people (and animals) recognize patterns -- neurons don't. Neurons
simply emit electrical impulses when caused to do so by impinging stimuli; they
don't recognize anything in the literal sense. Recognizing is a conscious
mental act. Neither do neurons read
or understand -- though they may be said to simulate these mental acts.
"Here I must say something briefly about
the standard language that neuroscience has come to assume in the last fifty or
so years (the subject deserves extended treatment. [McGinn ignores the fact that
Bennett and Hacker have already done this (see the reference below) -- RL.]
Even in sober neuroscience textbooks we are routinely told that bits of the
brain 'process information,' 'send signals,' and 'receive messages' -- as if
this were as uncontroversial as electrical and chemical processes occurring in
the brain. We need to scrutinize such talk with care. Why exactly is it
thought that the brain can be described in these ways? It is a collection of
biological cells like any bodily organ, much like the liver or the heart, which
are not apt to be described in informational terms. It can hardly be claimed
that we have observed information transmission in the brain, as we have
observed certain chemicals; this is a purely theoretical description of what is
going on. So what is the basis for the theory?
"The answer must surely be that the
brain is causally connected to the mind and the mind contains and
processes information. That is, a conscious subject has knowledge, memory,
perception, and the power of reason -- I have various kinds of
information at my disposal. No doubt I have this information because of activity
in my brain, but it doesn't follow that my brain also has such information,
still less microscopic bits of it. Why do we say that telephone lines convey
information? Not because they are intrinsically
informational, but because conscious subjects are at either end of them,
exchanging information in the ordinary sense. Without the conscious subjects and
their informational states, wires and neurons would not warrant being described
in informational terms.
"The mistake is to suppose that wires
and neurons are homunculi that somehow mimic human subjects in their
information-processing powers; instead they are simply the causal background to
genuinely informational transactions. The brain considered in itself,
independently of the mind, does not process information or send signals or
receive messages, any more than the heart does; people do, and the brain is the
underlying mechanism that enables them to do so. It is simply false to say that
one neuron literally 'sends a signal' to another; what it does is engage in
certain chemical and electrical activities that are causally connected to
genuine informational activities.
"Contemporary brain science is thus rife with unwarranted homunculus talk,
presented as if it were sober established science. We have discovered that
nerve fibres transmit electricity. We have not, in the same way, discovered that
they transmit information. We have simply postulated this conclusion by falsely
modelling neurons on persons. To put the point a little more formally: states of
neurons do not have propositional content in the way states of mind have
propositional content. The belief that London is rainy intrinsically and
literally contains the propositional content that London is rainy, but no state
of neurons contains that content in that way -- as opposed to metaphorically or
derivatively (this kind of point has been forcibly urged by
John Searle
for a long time).
"And there is theoretical danger in such loose talk, because it fosters the
illusion that we understand how the brain can give rise to the mind. One of the
central attributes of mind is information (propositional content) and there is a
difficult question about how informational states can come to exist in physical
organisms. We are deluded if we think we can make progress on this question by
attributing informational states to the brain. To be sure, if the brain
were to process information, in the full-blooded sense, then it would be
apt for producing states like belief; but it is simply not literally true that
it processes information. We are accordingly left wondering how electrochemical
activity can give rise to genuine informational states like knowledge, memory,
and perception. As so often, surreptitious homunculus talk generates an
illusion of theoretical understanding." [McGinn (2013), quoted from
here. Italic emphases in the
original, bold emphases and links added; quotation marks altered to conform with
the conventions adopted at this site. Spelling modified to UK English.]
Although
McGinn is correct in what he says about "homunculus talk", he, too, remains
locked into the
Cartesian Paradigm, since he tells us that
"the brain is causally connected to the mind and the mind contains and processes
information". He also talks about replacing anthropomorphic language with
"literal descriptions of electric charge and chemical transmission", and that
neurons can "simulate" some of our psychological capacities, even though
he then goes on to say:
"The mistake is to suppose that wires
and neurons are homunculi that somehow mimic human subjects in their
information-processing powers...." [Ibid.]
But,
McGinn's mistake here is that he assumes such language can be replaced with
"literal descriptions", just as he seems oblivious of the fact that this entire
way of talking is based on
conceptual confusion and linguistic distortion -- as this Essay seeks to
show.
For an
exhaustive corrective to this way of conceptualising our psychological lives,
see Bennett and Hacker (2008, 2022), Bennett, et al (2007), and Hacker
(2013a). See also
Kenny (1984b).
46.
How on earth this homunculus could possibly 'represent' or 'explain'
sounds, smells, colours and feelings either to us or to itself, before it
turned to us, we will have to pass over in silence. In fact, this picture would
seem to fall foul of the 'Harman Objection',
summarised in Note 43c, only now modified along
the following lines:
"If a speaker's competence in a language consists in having a set of diminutive
homunculi do all the cognitive work for her, then assuming RTM [The
Representational Theory of Mind
-- RL], each of these diminutive human beings must represent various items to
themselves, too. These representations must be in a more basic language. If we
suppose that the latter is the same as the original language then we are caught
in a
vicious circle. On the other hand, if we
suppose that it is some other language ('Mentalese'
perhaps), then its rules will also have to be represented. But, this requires a
still more basic language, and even more basic homunculi, and so on. The
only way to avoid a vicious circle or infinite regress is to allow that we can
be competent in at least one language directly, without representing its rules,
and without these inner 'friends' to do the work for us. Why not then allow this
of the original language, the one spoken?" [Devitt (2006), p.92,
modified.]
Nevertheless,
Daniel
Dennett reckons he has a reply to this, which will be examined in
Note 54, below.
47.
The existence of 'inner viewers' like this seems to be implied by all forms of
Cognitive Theory --, unless, that is, its specialised vocabulary is to be
interpreted
metaphorically. But, even then, what is the 'cash value' of these
metaphors (to use
William
James's happy phrase). For example, if someone describes a man as a pig, the
'cash value' of this simple metaphor might be that the said individual is
uncouth, has disgusting habits, or that he treats women with no respect,
serially cheating on them, and so on. That being the case: what is the 'cash
value' of these 'representational' metaphors? It isn't easy to say.
Otherwise,
this is indeed the
Cartesian Paradigm, which still dominates
Cognitive Theory, as noted
earlier.
There is in
fact a very useful summary of ancient, early modern and modern views in this
area in Sokolov (1975), pp.11-33. A recent example of how the Cartesian Paradigm
still dominates modern theory in this area can be found in Hurford (2007). As we
will discover later, in relation to the evolution of human 'consciousness' and
language, this Paradigm overshadows the entire discipline.
In view of
the fact that those who employ these metaphors seem to intend them to be taken
literally, it is rather ironic that in their endeavour to construct an
'objective' view of reality -- in this case, one such pertaining to our
cognitive capacities --, theorists find they have to introduce an 'ideal inner
observer' (surely the analogue of the Ideal Viewer required to account for the
'objectivity' of modern Physics) to whom such things must be "represented".
Hence, on
this account, science is only able to produce an 'objective' view of reality --
'inner' and 'outer' -- by rendering both thoroughly Ideal!
To
paraphrase
Anthony
Kenny: those who dote on this sort of talk (i.e., about "inner speech") seem
overly impressed by our ability to talk to ourselves.
[On
understanding in general, see Baker and
Hacker (2005a), pp.357-85, and Baker and Hacker (2005b), pp.305-56.]
On Wittgenstein's criticism of such 'inner signs', see, for example,
Note 23 above, as well as Stroud (1991, 1996).
49.
This resembles, somewhat uncomfortably,
the way that the Ancient Greeks named their 'gods' and then developed an entire
mythology to explain the relation between them!
To be sure, DM-theorists might want to
add a rider here that all this inter-relating should be done "dialectically" --
as if that word were itself a magic wand that can somehow neutralise the
fetishisation upon which it depends,
and which gave it life. [On that, seeNote 23
andNote 40, above.]
50.
This doesn't amount to a criticism of
science but of the metaphysical objectification that all too often
accompanies it in ancient and early modern thought -- in the latter case, and
more pointedly, the world-view bequeathed to us by
Descartes.
[On this, see
Read (2008), as well as Note 1.
This 'world-view', which is still central to the fetishised interpretations of
'thought', 'language', 'mind' and 'consciousness' covered in the main body of
this Essay, has been critically evaluated in many of the books and articles
listed in Note 86, below.]
It could be
argued that it is what these words refer to that is of interest to
scientists. So, for them, for example, "thought" refers to what goes on in the
head when we think. Maybe they do so argue, but that response is itself subject
to the rebuttal posted
here.
It is also
worth pointing out (yet again) that these comments aren't directed at our
ordinary use of terms like "consciousness" and "mind", but at the
philosophical employment of typographically identical words. On that, see
here and
here.
51.
This isn't to suggest that scientists (or even philosophers) don't theorise
about such 'inner processes', only that it is invariably the case that (in
practice) an appeal to material evidence (i.e., evidence that has
been derived from, and is based on, 'external' reality) takes precedence, while
these 'inner events', or 'processes', remain irrelevant in this regard.
[That observation will be explained presently.]
However, as
noted above, when it comes to
reifying 'mental processes' (as 'inner events' or 'structures'), scientists
are as prone as anyone else to make the same mistakes when they try to
'philosophise' about the implications of their work, or when they indulge in
their frequent 'popularisations' of it.
Indeed,
whenever historians, for example, attribute aims, motives or intentions to long
dead individuals, they manifestly don't consider
first the (inferred) 'events' in any of their subjects' heads as evidence
for whatever psychological states they might want to attribute to them -- even
if some attempt to infer what these 'events' might be later re-surfaces as part
of a speculative or re-constructive biography of one of more of these subjects,
etc., -- unless, that is, there were clear evidence of some sort of pathology of
the brain in the one being studied.
Only then would they consider the hypothetical state of their subjects' brains
to be relevant in the first instance.
On the other
hand, if they were to speculate about such 'inner' states first,
before they had examined the relevant 'external' evidence (in the form of
documents, letters, biographies, artefacts, testimonies, etc.), no one would
take them seriously. Their work would be viewed as fanciful, at best.
Historians examine the aforementioned documents, artefacts, testimonies,
letters, etc., first, not last. Only after considerable stage-setting has
taken place would a historian, for instance, presume to speculate about any
alleged 'inner processes' in the CNS or brain of any such character from the
past. And that is true, not just of long dead individuals, it is also true of
those alive today. So, if someone wanted to write a biography of, say,
Richard Dawkins, she wouldn't begin by speculating about what goes
on, or has gone on, in his head first. She would do exactly what
historians do: examine documents, letters, relevant books and articles, consult
Dawkins's work, and conduct interviews with relatives, friends, acquaintances,
colleagues -- and Dawkins himself -- and so on. Only after considerable
stage-setting would a competent biographer even begin to speculate or
conjecture about Dawkins's psychological make-up or motivation.
This shows
that "outer criteria" are decisive,
even here -- i.e., when it comes to assessing the character and
psychology of historical, and even contemporary, figures -- and not just in our
everyday dealings with one another. Indeed, this is something Voloshinov himself
sort of half accepts -- see, for example, pp.36-37 of Voloshinov (1973) --
although, as Note 23
points out, he ruins this observation with all that talk about "inner speech"
and "inner signs".
The above
comments apply equally well to the work of scientists; readers are is referred
to
comments I made
about this in Essay Three Part Two. [In the aforementioned Essay, those
comments were advanced in relation to 'abstraction', but they equally apply to
"inner processes" in general.]
51a."But, what about the imaginative, or theoretical, reconstruction of such
processes?" someone might ask. But, even there the motivation to compose
an imaginative, or theoretical, reconstruction can only base itself on (i) the
linguistic false moves outlined in the main body of this Essay and (ii) the
aforementioned Platonic-Christian-Cartesian
Paradigm
-- and nothing more.
Again, it
could be objected that what goes on in our heads surely can't be irrelevant.
Over the last hundred years or so neuroscientists have studied the
CNS extensively, and
have mapped and located regions of the brain that control the structures and
processes which the author of this Essay seems to think are chimerical.
In fact, the
existence of the neurological processes that scientists study hasn't been
questioned -- only their interpretation. What has been called
"chimerical" are the occult processes that have been imported into Philosophy
and Science from the
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm. Several other, but more
targeted, counter-arguments will be outlined
presently.
51b.
This topic leads naturally into a
consideration of Wittgenstein's comments about rule-following. I don't
want to become side-tracked here, so the reader is directed to the following
books and papers: Bloor (1997), Floyd (1991), Kripke (1982), Kusch (2006),
Williams (1999) -- but especially Robinson (2003c), and the material posted
here.
There are
scores of discussions of this topic on-line. For example,
here,
here and
here (the last of these links to a PDF).
51c. The term "Superscience"
(or "Super-Truth") was introduced in an earlier Essay, where it denoted attempts
made by Traditional Philosophers to concoct a priori solutions to
'problems' they themselves had invented. These 'solutions' (and associated
theses) turn out to be 'true' independently of the way the world happens to be,
and, moreover, relate to a hidden world underlying 'appearances', accessible to
thought alone. This approach to 'philosophical knowledge' was called a
"Superscience" since it mimics the sciences in that purports to deliver
knowledge about reality (typically expressed in
indicative sentences), but which knowledge surpasses in logical form
anything that the sciences have ever, or could ever, deliver. [In fact, I
borrowed this term from certain Wittgensteinian authors; for example, Hacker
(1987). More details can be found in Essay Twelve
Part One. I have summarised the argument
here.]
52. This
doesn't, of course, mean that nominalisations per se
are illegitimate, merely that these specific nominalisations constitute the
only 'evidence' there is that these spurious 'inner' objects and processes
actually exist. [On this See Note 1.]
In other words, they were the direct creation of 'word-magic' and nothing
more.
53.See also Vul, et al (2009), the
interviews
here
and
here, the summary
here, as well as the discussion
here. A short rebuttal of the many criticisms that the Vul paper attracted
can be found
here, with a more recent reply
here. [This links to a PDF.] Also see
Vul and Kanwisher (2010) -- (this also links to a PDF) --,
and Prinz (2006). There is also much more material available at Edward
Vul's site, here.
There is another paper by
Yarkoni and Braver available
here on such correlations.
Here is a recent
New Scientist report on some of this work:
"Doubts
raised over brain scan findings
"Jim Giles
"Some of the hottest results in the
nascent field of social neuroscience, in which emotions and behavioural traits
are linked to activity in a particular region of the brain, may be inflated and
in some cases entirely spurious.
"So say psychologist
Hal Pashler
at the University of California, San Diego, and his colleagues, who examined
more than 50 studies that relied on functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI)
brain scans, many published in high-profile journals, and questioned the authors
about their methods.
"Pashler's team say that
in most of the studies, which linked brain regions to feelings including social
rejection, neuroticism and jealousy, researchers interpreted their data using a
method that
inflates the strength of the link
between a brain region and the emotion or behaviour.
"The claim is disputed by at least two
of the critiqued groups. Both argue that Pashler has misunderstood their results
and that their conclusions are backed by other studies.
"In many of the studies, researchers
scan volunteers' brains as they complete a task designed to elicit a particular
emotion. They then divide the images from the scans into cubes called voxels,
which can each contain millions of neurons, and attempt to correlate the
activity of particular voxels with emotional changes reported by the volunteers.
"The problem arises when researchers
attempt to calculate the strength of this correlation. This has to be done in
two stages. The first is to identify regions in which the correlation between
voxel activity and the emotion exceeds a certain threshold. In the second stage,
the researchers assess the strength of the correlation in that region.
"Pashler recommends that two independent
sets of scans be used in these two stages. If the same set is used for both,
there is an increased risk of misinterpreting random noise as a genuine signal.
"Yet in almost 30 of the papers
Pashler's team analysed, researchers used the same scans to identify the voxels
of interest and determine the final correlation. This inflates the correlation
above its true value, and has the potential to produce apparent links between
emotions and brain regions when none exists, Pashler's team claims.
"To demonstrate their
point, the team used this technique to search for correlations in simulated
brain scan data. This appeared to reveal statistically significant correlations,
when in fact there were none. The
critique
has been peer-reviewed and accepted for publication in
Perspectives on Psychological Science.
"Many researchers are not surprised by
Pashler's conclusions, as the more rigorous analysis that his team recommends
requires more data. It is expensive to run fMRI scans and difficult to find
volunteers.
"Nikolaus Kriegeskorte at
the US National Institute of Mental Health in Bethesda, Maryland, is trying to
gauge the number of neuroscience papers that use this method, because he also
believes it is problematic. And in 2007, researchers withdrew part of an fMRI
paper published in Nature Neuroscience (DOI:
10.1038/nn0107-1)
after another researcher showed that random noise could have produced the
reported correlation.
"The researchers
criticised by Pashler strongly contest his team's conclusions. Tania Singer at
the University of Zurich in Switzerland says Pashler's survey questions were
'ambiguous and incomplete', causing him to misjudge the way her group corrected
for random noise. Matthew Lieberman of the University of California, Los
Angeles, says that even if his 2003 study in Science (DOI:
10.1126/science.1089134) inflates the strength of the link between feelings
of rejection and physical pain, the link itself stands, as studies using
different methods also identified it." [New
Scientist 2691, 14/01/2009. Links in the original.
Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.
See also a
similar article by Alison Abbott in Nature.]
Once more, my quoting or referencing the
above sources doesn't imply I agree with the unexamined assumption which they
all seem to accept: that there are such things as 'mental processes' in the
brain, or which arise from that organ. In fact, as this Essay shows, the
opposite is in fact the case -- or, rather, the supposition that there are
such 'mental processes' is radically confused.
It could be objected that we do in fact
use the word "mental" to refer to hidden process in the brain, for example, when
we refer to mental arithmetic. If so, much of the above material is
completely misguided. To be sure, this is a legitimate use of the word,
but we have yet to see the proof that this is done 'in the brain', or that it
refers to a 'process in the
CNS'.
It could now be asked of the author:
"Well, what do you suppose is going on in the brain? Do these structures and
processes have nothing to do with consciousness, thought, emotion, etc.?"
The problem with this response that it
is based on the assumption that there is anything 'mental' there to be
correlated with any activity in regions of the brain, or in the whole brain
itself. Since the spurious concepts, and words, "consciousness" and "thought",
as they are used in the Cognitive Sciences (and the Philosophy of Mind), for
example, are the result of the nominalisation and reification of certain verbs,
there is about as much here to correlate as there would be between the price of
coffee and the life and loves of a
Harpy.
Despite this, the above objection might
continue: "But what relation is there between these neurological or
psychological structures and processes and how we are able to think, or with
what we are capable of deciding? Surely, they must have something to do with our
psychological lives and makeup. An empty head wouldn't be able think at all!"
This problem is connected with the
social nature of language. As will be argued in more detail in Essay Twelve,
since language serves primarily as a means of communication, its capacity
to represent
the world isn't too impressive, especially in areas far removed from everyday
life and common understanding. That is why theorists find they have to construct
models, employ metaphors and analogies, indulge in 'thought experiments', use
'scare' quotes all the time, invent technical terms and neologisms, rely on a
distorted or confused use/misuse of ordinary words, nominalise and reify verbs
to order in their endeavour to 'represent' nature and the 'mind'. [And, what is
worse, they have yet to break free from the
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm.] When it comes to comprehending 'what
goes on in the brain', this predicament is all the more intractable. That is
because (i) The dice have already been loaded by the almost universal adoption
of the aforementioned Paradigm and the use of cognitive models that haven't
advanced much beyond
bourgeois individualism of the 17th
and 18th
centuries, and because (ii) The social nature of discourse and the words we use
to give expression to our psychological lives can't be applied to what goes on
in the brain without mis-using them or undermining their social nature (as we
have seen).
The bottom line is that it isn't up to
philosophers to decide about these issues, and it isn't up to me, either.
However, that doesn't mean we have to accede, or give ground, to the impromptu
and amateur Metaphysics that passes itself off as 'Brain Science' or 'Philosophy
of Mind' these days -- nor indeed the vastly inferior 'dialectical' version
of either or both.
And, of course, if an individual
literally had an empty head, they couldn't enjoy any sort of psychological
life since they would be dead.
Update
October 2013: According
to a leader article in the New Scientist, Neuroscience seems to be in
total disarray:
"The idea of putting a
dead salmon in a brain scanner would be funny if it were not so serious. When
Craig Bennett of the University of California, Santa Barbara, tried it in 2009,
he wasn't expecting to find anything -- he was just doing test runs on the
machine. But when he looked at the data he got a shock. The fish's brain and
spinal column were showing
signs of neural activity.
"There was no such activity, of course.
The salmon was dead. But the signal was there, and it confirmed what many had
been quietly muttering for years: there's something fishy about neuroscience.
"When fMRI brain scanners
were invented in the early 1990s, scientists and the general public were seduced
by the idea of watching the brain at work. It seems we got carried away. The
field is plagued by false positives and other problems. It is now clear that the
majority -- perhaps the vast majority -- of neuroscience findings are as
spurious as brain waves in a dead fish (see "Hidden
depths: Brain science is drowning in uncertainty").
"That seems shocking, and
not just because neuroscience has appeared to be one of the most productive
research areas of recent years. Some of those dodgy findings are starting to
make their way into the real world, such as in ongoing debates about the use of
fMRI evidence in court.
"Some historical perspective is helpful
here, however. The problems are not exclusive to neuroscience. In 2005,
epidemiologist John Ioannidis published a bombshell of a paper called 'Why most
published research findings are false'. In it he catalogued a litany of failures
that undermine the reliability of science in general. His analysis concluded
that at least half, and possibly a large majority, of published research is
wrong.
"Ioannidis might have
expected anger and denial, but
his paper was well received.
Scientists welcomed the chance to debate the flaws in their practices and work
to put them right.
"Things are by no means perfect now. Scientists are under immense pressure to
make discoveries, so negative findings often go unreported, experiments are
rarely replicated and data is often 'tortured until it confesses'. But -- thanks
in no small part to Ioannidis's brutal honesty -- all of those issues are now
out in the open and science is working to address them. The kerfuffle over
neuroscience is just the latest chapter in a long-running saga." [New
Scientist220, 2939, 18/10/2013, p.3.
Links in the original. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions
adopted at this site.]
The Leader, however, finishes on an
up-beat note:
"Genetics went through a similar
'crisis' about a decade ago and has since matured into one of the most reliable
sciences of all. The fact that neuroscience is facing up to its problems is the
sign of a young discipline growing up. Some of the flashy discoveries about
brain areas 'for' love or religion will go the way of genes 'for' intelligence,
or whatever. But neuroscience will be more nuanced and powerful for it." [Ibid.
Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.]
It is difficult to share the unfounded
optimism on display here. As
Wittgenstein pointed out,
and as has been argued in this Essay, Neuroscience has been crippled by profound
conceptual confusion (again, this is a consequence of buying into the
Cartesian Paradigm), unlike Genetics. The
main article mentioned (and linked to) in the Leader gives the game away:
"Amid these concerns, it might seem as
if our understanding of the brain is set to disappear in a fog of uncertainty,
and you will find many observers in the popular press who are now bashing 'neuromania'.
But it's important not to forget the advances of the last century. And while the
tough conclusions of Ioannidis and his colleagues are certainly reason to
reassess our knowledge, their insights should only lead to more fruitful efforts
in uncovering the mind's mysteries." [Ibid.,
p.33. (Unfortunately, this article is only available to subscribers.)
Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.
Link in the original.]
Here 'the mind' is plainly an object of
some sort different in name alone from the 'soul' of Cartesian Metaphysics. No
solution is going to be found for this pseudo-problem, since, as the above
shows, the entire discipline is still in thrall to Plato and Descartes.
These hardy "ruling ideas" refuse to wither and die.
Lenin
committed himself to the following (Cartesian) view of 'matter and mind':
"[T]he sole
'property' of matter with whose recognition philosophical materialism is bound
up is the property of
being an objective reality, of existing outside our mind."
[Lenin (1972),
p.311.]
"Thus…the concept of matter…epistemologically implies nothing but
objective reality existing independently of the human mind and reflected by it."
[Ibid.,
p.312.]
"[I]t is the sole categorical, this sole unconditional recognition of
nature's existence outside the mind and perception of man that
distinguishes dialectical materialism from relativist agnosticism and idealism."
[Ibid.,
p.314.]
"If energy is motion, you have only shifted the difficulty from the subject to
the predicate, you have only changed the question, does matter move? into the
question is energy material? Does the transformation of energy take place
outsidethe mind, independently of man…or are these only ideas?...."
[Ibid.,
p.324.]
"The fundamental characteristic of materialism is that it starts from the
objectivity of science, from the recognition of objective reality reflected by
science." [Ibid.,
pp.354-55.
Italic emphases in all of the above are those in the original; bold
emphases added.]
I have
commented on these ideas in Essay Thirteen
Part One; the
reader is directed there for more details. There is was argued that,
according to the above, since (a)
The 'mind' can't be outside itself, and (b) Only those objects and
processes which are outside the 'mind' can be regarded as material,
therefore (c) The 'mind' can't be material! Paradoxically, Lenin is committed
to the idea that 'the mind' is non-material!
Alongside
other DM-fans, Lenin plainly pitched his tent well-and-truly inside the
Cartesian Paradigm;
all he had was a different 'solution' to the pseudo-problem of the
relation between 'mind' and matter.
The pressure
on certain comrades to come up with a materialist-sounding theory to
explain 'consciousness' (etc.) continues to affect their judgement (for
instance, here). For example, this is how
Alex Callinicos
characterised Daniel Dennett's work in this area:
"...Dennett comes at the argument from a specific angle. He is by background a
philosopher of mind, the author of a number of well known books, notably
Brainstorms
(1978) and Consciousness Explained (1991). As the title of the latter
book indicates,
Dennett is hardly the kind of
analytical philosopher
happy to concentrate on the exquisitely precise examination of details of
linguistic usage. He isn't afraid to take on big subjects.
"There is, moreover, a unifying theme that connects Darwin's Dangerous Idea
with Dennett's earlier writings. In the latter he has been concerned to develop
what might be described as a non-reductionist materialist theory of the mind. In
other words,
he has sought to find a way of treating the mind as a natural phenomenon,
whose activities are continuous with those in the physical world, while at the
same time recognising that human beings are 'intentional
systems' whose behaviour cannot be
explained without ascribing to them beliefs, desires and other mental states.
Dennett accepts that these states cannot be reduced to corresponding physical
states, but he wants to avoid treating them (as many contemporary philosophers
still do) as partaking of some mysterious 'mindstuff' fundamentally different
from the physical world.
"Dennett has attempted to clarify the issues involved
by drawing on
Artificial Intelligence (AI), a
discipline that came into existence to try to understand the computers it helped
to create. He argues that AI can help us to understand the human mind in two
ways. First, to the extent that computers do things that are analogous to what
minds do, they show that mental activity is best understood less in terms of the
physical hardware it depends on (the brain and nervous system in the case of
humans), but rather in terms of the functions which it realises. AI suggests
that these functions do not necessarily have to be performed by physical
organisms like us. Computers must, at least for some purposes, be treated as
intentional systems.
"Secondly, AI explains how computers
perform their functions by analysing them into component sub-systems each of
which undertakes tasks which require less intelligence than those of the
computer as a whole, and each of which is in turn composed of progressively
smaller and less intelligent sub-systems. Dennett suggests we think of
computers as composite beings made up of homunculi (tiny men):
'The highest level design breaks the computer down into a committee or army of
intelligent homunculi with purposes, information and strategies. Each
homunculus
in turn is analysed into smaller homunculi, but, more important, into
less clever homunculi'.
"Dennett believes that AI can throw
light on the apparent mystery of how intentionality -- all the complexity and
richness of human mental life -- can somehow emerge from brute, mindless matter.
The analogy of the computer, composed of progressively less intelligent
sub-systems (increasingly stupid homunculi), shows that there is no
sharp dividing line between mind and matter but a series of continuous
gradations which blur this distinction. The mind itself straddles the
boundary between the mental and the 'merely' physical since, like the
computer, it is composed of a number of sub-systems each of which displays less
intentionality than the system as a whole:
'In an organism with genuine
intentionality -- such as yourself -- there are, right now, many parts, and some
of these parts exhibit a sort of semi-intentionality, or mere as if
intentionality, or pseudo-intentionality -- call it what you like -- and your
genuine, full-fledged intentionality is in fact the product (with no further
miracle ingredients) of the activities of all the semi-minded and mindless bits
that make you up.... That is what a mind is -- not a miracle machine, but a huge
semi-designed, self-redesigning amalgam of smaller machines, each with its own
design history, each playing its own role in the "economy of the soul".'
"This view of mind is brilliantly
developed in Consciousness Explained. Here in particular Dennett seeks
to refute the conception of mental life inherited from Descartes according to
which there is 'a special centre in the brain' which is the focus of
consciousness. He offers in its place 'the Multiple Drafts model of
consciousness', according to which:
'all varieties of perception -- indeed
all varieties of thought or mental activity -- are accomplished in the brain by
parallel, multitrack processes of interpretation and elaboration of sensory
inputs. Information entering the nervous system is under continuous "editorial
revision".'
"There is no specific point which can be
identified as 'the moment of consciousness'; what we call consciousness is
simply the effect of all these simultaneously occurring processes. The mind must
be seen as a 'Joycean machine', 'a cobbled together collection of specialist
brain circuits', which functions by 'yoking together these independently
evolved specialist organs in common cause and thereby giving their union vastly
enhanced powers'.
"But this theory, Dennett argues, is
only one strategy which materialist explanations of the mind can pursue. 'There
are two paths to intentionality,' he writes. That pursued in books like
Brainstorms and Consciousness Explained
represents what he calls the 'synchronic path'. In other words, it uses AI to
help offer a static analysis of how human brains as they exist now, as organs of
a certain living species, perform complex mental functions. But there is another
route to the same goal: 'The Darwinian path is diachronic, or historical, and
concerns the gradual accretion, over billions of years, of the sort of Design --
of functionality and purposiveness -- that can support an intentional
interpretation of the activities of organisms (the "doings" of "agents").'
"In other words, the theory of evolution offers the possibility of writing a
natural history of the mind, of explaining how all the rich diversity of mental
life gradually emerged from a physical world from which, originally, it was
utterly absent." [Callinicos
(1996), pp.100-03. Bold emphases and
italics added. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions
adopted at this site. Among other works of Dennett's, Callinicos is referring to
Dennett (1978, 1989, 1991, 1995).]
However,
despite what these two might say, it will be readily apparent that
Dennett and Callinicos have bought into the
Cartesian Paradigm, since they both
attempt to explain the connection between the 'mind' and the
CNS. Just like Lenin,
and countless others, all they offer is a different 'solution' to this
spurious problem. Apart from the traditional jargon they both use to frame
this 'problem', they leave several other clues that confirm they are indeed
trapped in this Paradigm, one of the most revealing of these is where Callinicos
informs us that Dennett's aim is to:
"...refute
the conception of mental life inherited from Descartes according to which there
is 'a special centre in the brain' which is the focus of consciousness. He
offers in its place 'the Multiple Drafts model of consciousness'...". [Ibid.
Bold emphasis added.]
So, for
Dennett, the 'mind' no longer operates through the
Pineal gland -- as it did for Descartes -- it does so right across the
brain, a picture Callinicos appears to endorse. These two don't begin
by questioning the origin of this view of 'the mind' in mystical Platonism,
Christianity and the misuse of ordinary language (in fact, concerning the
latter, they both reject that approach --
see below), and regard
the 'problem of consciousness' as one they can solve with what turn out to be
another set of inappropriate metaphors and analogies!
But, if 'the
mind' (as it is depicted by Philosophers) is nothing more than a faint echo of
the Christian-Platonic view of the 'soul', motivated by little other than the
nominalisation and
reification of a handful of psychological verbs (etc.), then there is in
fact nothing to unravel, re-connect or 'solve', and thus no need for
these "stupid
homunculi", in the first place.
In fact, the
earlier quotation from Button,
et al, is even more apposite:
"As to the widespread disparagement of
attempts to resolve philosophical problems by way of appeals to 'what we would
ordinarily say', we would proffer the following comment. It often appears that
those who engage in such disparaging nonetheless themselves often do what they
programmatically disparage, for it seems to us at least arguable that many of
the central philosophical questions are in fact, and despite protestations to
the contrary, being argued about in terms of appeals (albeit often inept) to
'what we would ordinarily say...'. That the main issues of contemporary
philosophy of mind are essentially about language (in the sense that they
arise from and struggle with confusions over the meanings of ordinary words) is
a position which, we insist, can still reasonably be proposed and defended. We
shall claim here that most, if not all, of the conundrums, controversies and
challenges of the philosophy of mind in the late twentieth century consist in a
collectively assertive, although bewildered, attitude toward such ordinary
linguistic terms as 'mind' itself, 'consciousness', 'thought', 'belief',
'intention' and so on, and that the problems which are posed are ones which
characteristically are of the form which ask what we should say if
confronted with certain facts, as described....
"We have absolutely nothing against the
coining of new, technical uses [of words], as we have said. Rather, the issue is
that many of those who insist upon speaking of machines' 'thinking' and
'understanding' do not intend in the least to be coining new, restrictively
technical, uses for these terms. It is not, for example, that they have decided
to call a new kind of machine an 'understanding machine', where the word
'understanding' now means something different from what we ordinarily mean by
that word. On the contrary, the philosophical cachet derives entirely from their
insisting that they are using the words 'thinking' and 'understanding' in the
same sense that we ordinarily use them. The aim is quite
characteristically to provoke, challenge and confront the rest of us. Their
objective is to contradict something that the rest of us believe. What the 'rest
of us' believe is simply this: thinking and understanding is something
distinctive to human beings..., and that these capacities set us apart from the
merely mechanical.... The argument that a machine can think or understand,
therefore, is of interest precisely because it features a use of the words
'think' and 'understand' which is intendedly the same as the ordinary use.
Otherwise, the sense of challenge and, consequently, of interest would
evaporate.... If engineers were to make 'understand' and 'think' into technical
terms, ones with special, technical meanings different and distinct from
those we ordinarily take them to have, then, of course, their claims to have
built machines which think or understand would have no bearing whatsoever upon
our inclination ordinarily to say that, in the ordinary sense, machines do not
think or understand." [Button, et al (1995), pp.12, 20-21. Italic
emphases in the original. Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions adopted at this site.]
In which
case, Callinicos's admission that
Dennett eschews any consideration of
"what we say" is part of the problem, not part of the solution:
"...Dennett comes at the argument from a specific angle. He is by background a
philosopher of mind, the author of a number of well known books, notably
Brainstorms (1978) and
Consciousness Explained (1991). As the title of the latter book indicates,
Dennett is hardly the kind of analytical philosopher happy to concentrate on the
exquisitely precise examination of details of linguistic usage. He isn't afraid
to take on big subjects." [Callinicos
(1996), p.100. Bold emphasis alone
added.]
These "big
subjects" are, of course, based on a distortion of language, which,
according to Marx can be avoided if:
"The philosophers...dissolve their language into the ordinary language, from
which it is abstracted, in order to recognise it, as the distorted language of
the actual world...." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118.]
On
AI and Dennett, see the following: Bennett and Hacker (2008), pp.237-63,
Bennett and Hacker (2022), pp.470-91, Button,
et al (1995), pp.88-95, Hutto (1997), Robinson (2003b), and Shanker
(1986c, 1987a, 1987b, 1987c, 1988, 1995, 1996b, 1997, 1998). On what computers
still can't do, see Dreyfus (1992). Cf., also
Note 2,
Note 61, Note 97 and the
references listed in Note 86, below. See also, Fodor
(1998c). For a general criticism of this way of viewing the 'mind', see Putnam
(1988). On Dennett's appeal to evolution and 'design', see
here.
Dennett's
reference to increasingly 'stupid homunculi' is also susceptible to the
arguments quoted
here and
here.
[There is
more than a
faint echo
in Callinicos's argument of Engels's first 'Law' (i.e.,
Q«Q);
that is, as new levels of complexity arise we witness a change of "quantity"
into "quality". I have shown (here
and here) that this
isn't even an example of Engels's 'Law', whatever else we decide to make of
it! On Trotsky's use of this 'Law', see
below.]
Nevertheless, some Marxists might still object that if there is no material
basis for "mental events", "mental processes" or "mental states" (for example,
in the
CNS), this might allow
space for an immaterialist or Idealist theory of the mind/'soul'.
Second,
as we have
also seen, these phrases (i.e.,
"mental events", "mental processes" and "mental states") are hoplessly obscure.
Third, the
factors that have generally motivated materialist worries of this sort stem from
an
ancient tradition that misidentified,
distorted, and misconstrued both the nature of our psychological make-up and
the language we use to give expression to it. That tradition not only
fetishised psychological words --
employing along the way specially concocted terms like "mind", "consciousness",
"thought" --, it is predicated on the
representational theory of language and mind. As such, it ignored and thus
helped undermine the communitarian nature of discourse, relying on a
ruling-class,
Dualist view of one or both. [When I use the word "mind" I am, of course,
employing it in its everyday sense, not as philosophers and mystics have used
it.]
Some might
take exception to this and claim that they aren't Dualists. However, as noted
above, it is quite clear that
Dialectical Marxists, almost to a clone, have bought into the
Cartesian Paradigm, concerned as they are
to try to explain the connection between the 'mind' and the
CNS. Here is
Callinicos, again:
"Dennett believes that AI can throw
light on the apparent mystery of how intentionality -- all the complexity and
richness of human mental life -- can somehow emerge from brute, mindless matter.
The analogy of the computer, composed of progressively less intelligent
sub-systems (increasingly stupid homunculi),
shows that there is no sharp dividing line between mind and matter but a
series of continuous gradations which blur this distinction. The mind itself
straddles the boundary between the mental and the 'merely' physical since, like
the computer, it is composed of a number of sub-systems each of which displays
less intentionality than the system as a whole....
"This view of mind is brilliantly
developed in Consciousness Explained. Here in particular Dennett seeks to
refute the conception of mental life inherited from Descartes according to which
there is 'a special centre in the brain' which is the focus of consciousness. He
offers in its place 'the Multiple Drafts model of consciousness', according to
which:
'all varieties of perception -- indeed
all varieties of thought or mental activity -- are accomplished in the brain by
parallel, multitrack processes of interpretation and elaboration of sensory
inputs. Information entering the nervous system is under continuous "editorial
revision".'
"There is no specific point which can be identified as 'the moment of
consciousness'; what we call consciousness is simply the effect of all these
simultaneously occurring processes. The mind must be seen as a 'Joycean
machine', 'a cobbled together collection of specialist brain circuits', which
functions by 'yoking together these independently evolved specialist organs in
common cause and thereby giving their union vastly enhanced powers'. [Callinicos
(1996), pp.100-03. Bold emphases added.]
Callinicos
isn't alone. DM-fans who have written on this topic invariably argue
along similar lines.
According to
this 'dialectical' view of human cognition and action, the Cartesian picture
that there is something called "the mind", which isn't material, and which
operates through the
Pineal gland -- a favourite spot, incidentally, for mystics to locate the
'third
eye' -- has been replaced by a series of "modules", "structures" or
"processes", which can't be reduced to their material base (so they aren't
material either: that was established as Lenin's view,
above, and in Essay Thirteen
Part One), but which are no
longer localised, as they were for Descartes.
The details may have changed, but the form has remained the same. And, as
we have seen throughout this Essay, Voloshinov and his epigones
have also adopted
different versions of the same Cartesian myth.
Here, for
example, are our old friends, Woods and Grant:
"What we call 'mind' is just the mode of existence of the brain. This is
an immensely complicated phenomenon, the product of many millions of years of
evolution. The difficulty in analysing the complex processes that occur
within the brain and nervous system, and the equally complex interrelations
between mental processes and the environment, has meant that a proper
understanding of the nature of thought has been delayed for centuries. This
has enabled idealists and theologians to speculate on the allegedly mystical
nature of the 'soul,' conceived as a non-material substance which deigned to
take up temporary residence in the body. The advances of modern neurobiology
mean that the idealists are finally being driven from their ultimate refuge.
As we begin to unlock the secrets of the brain and nervous system, it becomes
progressively easier to explain the mind, without recourse to supernatural
agents, as the sum total of brain activity." [Woods
and Grant (1995), p.286. Quotation marks
altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site. Bold emphases
added.]
Again, these two don't begin by questioning Descartes's division of the
phenomena into their 'mental' and physical 'substances'; as we saw with other
DM-fans, they have a different solution to the 'problem' Descartes manufactured.
But, this artificial division still remains. To be sure, they deny there is any
need to appeal to a non-material 'soul', but all they have done is replace the
'soul' with another mysterious entity -- the "mode of existence of the brain"
--, since they don't explain what this could possibly mean (nor can they
-- no one can without anthropomorphising that organ). Instead of exposing
the bogus nature of the traditional
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm
as the misguided product of inappropriate metaphors, distorted language and
mystical theology that is it, they merely offer us their own mysterious
alternative to it.
The above
two then repeat several of the errors we met earlier in this Essay:
"Using examples of child behaviour, he [Vygotsky -- RL] explained why children
spend a lot of time talking aloud to themselves. They are rehearsing the habits
of planning that they would later internalise as inner speech. Vygotsky showed
that this inner speech underpinned the human ability to recollect and recall
memories. The human mind is dominated by an inner world of thoughts,
stimulated by our sensations, which is capable of generalisation and perspective.
Animals also have memories, but they seem to be locked into the present,
reflecting the immediate environment. The development of human inner speech
allows humans to recall and develop ideas. In other words, inner speech
played a key role in the evolution of the human mind." [Ibid.,
pp.293-94. Bold emphases added.]
As we have
seen, all this talk of an "inner world of thought" is Cartesian in all but name
-- while managing to be incoherent into the bargain.
Here is
Engels himself, endorsing
Feuerbach's view (albeit with certain reservations), along the same lines:
"The course of evolution of Feuerbach is
that of a Hegelian -- a never quite orthodox Hegelian, it is true -- into a
materialist; an evolution which at a definite stage necessitates a complete
rupture with the idealist system of his predecessor. With irresistible force,
Feuerbach is finally driven to the realization that the Hegelian premundane
existence of the 'absolute idea', the 'pre-existence of the logical categories'
before the world existed, is nothing more than the fantastic survival of the
belief in the existence of an extra-mundane creator; that the material,
sensuously perceptible world to which we ourselves belong is the only reality;
and that our consciousness and thinking, however supra-sensuous they may seem,
are the product of a material, bodily organ, the brain. Matter is not a product
of mind, but mind itself is merely the highest product of matter. This is,
of course, pure materialism. But, having got so far, Feuerbach stops short. He
cannot overcome the customary philosophical prejudice, prejudice not against the
thing but against the name materialism....
"In the second place, we simply cannot
get away from the fact that everything that sets men acting must find its way
through their brains -- even eating and drinking, which begins as a consequence
of the sensation of hunger or thirst transmitted through the brain, and ends as
a result of the sensation of satisfaction likewise transmitted through the
brain. The influences of the external world upon man express themselves in
his brain, are reflected therein as feelings, impulses, volitions
-- in short, as 'ideal tendencies', and in this form become 'ideal powers'....
"As all the driving forces of the actions of any individual person must pass
through his brain, and transform themselves into motives of his will in order to
set him into action, so also all the needs of civil society -- no matter
which class happens to be the ruling one -- must pass through the will of the
state in order to secure general validity in the form of laws....." [Engels
(1888), pp.596-97,
615. Quotation marks altered to conform
with the conventions adopted at this site. Bold emphasis added.]
This idea
even crops up in Das Kapital:
"My dialectic method is not only different from the Hegelian, but is its direct
opposite. To Hegel, the life process of the human brain, i.e., the process of
thinking, which, under the name of 'the Idea,' he even transforms into an
independent subject, is the demiurgos of the real world, and the real world is
only the external, phenomenal form of 'the Idea.' With me, on the contrary,
the ideal is nothing else than the material world reflected by the human mind,
and translated into forms of thought." [Marx
(1996), p.19. Quotation marks altered to
conform with the conventions adopted at this site. Bold emphases added.]
To be sure,
Marx is referring to Hegel's ideas here, but he clearly endorses his view
of"the life process of the human brain,
i.e., the process of thinking"; he merely wishes to reverse the direction of
analysis, or perhaps even of causation:
"[T]he ideal is nothing else than the
material world reflected by the human mind, and translated into forms of
thought." [Ibid.]
That, too,
is Cartesian in all but name -- as are these comments of
Trotsky's:
"...[I]t is precisely dialectical
materialism that prompts us to the idea that the psyche could not even be
formed unless it played an autonomous, that is, within certain limits, an
independent role in the life of the individual and the species.
"All the same, we approach some sort of
critical point, a break in the gradualness, a transition from quantity into
quality: the psyche arising from matter, is 'freed' from the determinism of
matter, so that it can independently --- by its own laws -- influence matter."
[Trotsky (1986), p.106. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions
adopted at this site. Bold emphases added. "Psyche" is clearly Trotsky's word
for 'mind' or 'consciousness'.]
Here also is
Spirkin:
"While idealism creates a gulf between
reason and the world, materialism tries to discover the unity between the two
by inferring the spiritual from the material. In materialism, the
interpretation of consciousness is based on its recognition as a function of the
human brain, the essence of which lies in the reflection and
constructive-creative transformation of the world. Historical-materialist
theory maintains that it is impossible to analyse consciousness in isolation
from other phenomena of social life. From the very beginning consciousness has
been a social product and it will remain so as long as human beings exist. The
human brain embraces the potentials evolved by human history, the inherited
abilities that are realised through training and education and the whole
assembly of social influences, and through exposure to world culture. The
brain becomes the organ of consciousness only when a person is drawn into social
life and assimilates historically evolved forms of culture. The essential
purpose of consciousness is to give people a true orientation in the world, the
ability to know and transform it by means of reason. When we say that a person
is conscious of something, we mean that he understands the meaning of what he
has perceived or remembered and takes into consideration the possible
consequences of his actions and can be held responsible for them to society and
himself.
"Human consciousness is a form of mental activity, the highest form. By
mental activity we mean all mental processes, conscious and unconscious, all
mental states and qualities of the individual. These are mainly processes of
cognition, internal states of the organism, and such attributes of personality
as character, temperament, and so on. Mental activity is an attribute of the
whole animal world. Consciousness, on the other hand, as the highest form of
mental activity, is inherent only in human beings, and even then not at all
times or at all levels. It does not exist in the newborn child, in certain
categories of the mentally ill, in people who are asleep or in a coma. And even
in the developed, healthy and waking individual not all mental activity forms a
part of his consciousness; a great portion of it proceeds outside the bounds of
consciousness and belongs to the unconscious phenomena of the mind. The content
of the activity of consciousness is recorded in artefacts (including language
and other sign systems), thus acquiring the form of ideal existence, existence
as knowledge, as historical memory. Consciousness also includes an axiological,
that is to say, evaluative aspect, which expresses the selectivity of
consciousness, its orientation on values evolved by society and accepted by the
individual -- philosophical, scientific, political, moral, aesthetic, religious,
etc. It includes the individual's relation both to these values and to himself,
thus becoming a form of self-consciousness, which is also social in origin. A
person's knowledge of himself becomes possible thanks to his ability to relate
his principles and orientation to the stand points of other people, his ability
to consider these stand points in the process of communication. The very term
'consciousness', that is to say, knowledge acquired together with others, points
to the dialogical nature of consciousness." [Spirkin
(1983), pp.154-55. Quotation marks
altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site. Bold emphases
added.]
Here, too,
is Cornforth:
"Mental functions are functions of
highly developed matter, namely, of the brain. Mental processes are brain
processes, processes of a material, bodily organ.
"The essential feature of mental
processes is that in and through them the animal continually builds up most
complicated and variable relations with its surroundings. When we perceive
things we are relating ourselves to external objects through the perceptual
activity of the brain. And when we think of things, we are relating ourselves
to external objects through the thought activity of the brain....
"Adopting the scientific approach to the
study of consciousness, Marxism therefore denies the idealist theory that when
we perceive, feel or think there are two separate processes
going on -- the material process of the brain and the mental process of
consciousness. Only one process is involved, namely, the material
process of the brain. Mental processes are simply one aspect of the process of
the functioning of the brain...." [Cornforth (1974), pp.22-24. Bold
emphases added; italic emphases in the original.]
Once more,
the above comrades
don't even think to challenge the Idealist dichotomy ('mind'/brain); just
like Lenin,they simply have a different 'solution' to it.
[The neo-Cartesian views of several more
Dialectical Marxists will be added at a later date. In the meantime, see
Note 55a,
below.]
So, as noted
several times, all that the above authors have to offer is a different
solution
to the same pseudo-problem, the relation between 'mind' and matter. As we saw
was the case with Dennett, Callinicos and several others, the above theorists
fail to question the origin of this myth -- in Platonic mysticism and the
misuse of ordinary language --, but simply regard the 'problem' of
'consciousness' as something they are well equipped to solve. By accepting
the problematic laid down by Descartes,
along with his jargon,
they have only succeeded in trapping themselves within this Ancient Paradigm. As
Anthony Kenny noted (quoted earlier):
"Descartes view of the nature of mind
endured much longer than his view of matter. Indeed among educated people in
the West who were not professional philosophers it is still the most widespread
view of the mind. Most contemporary philosophers would disown Cartesian
dualism but even those who explicitly renounce it are often profoundly
influenced by it. Many people, for instance, go along with Descartes in
identifying the mental realm as the realm of consciousness. They think of
consciousness as an object of introspection; as something we see when we look
within ourselves. They think of it as an inessential, contingent matter that
consciousness has an expression in speech and behaviour. Consciousness, as they
conceive it, is something to which each of us has direct access in our own case.
Others, by contrast, can only infer to our conscious states by accepting our
testimony or making causal inferences from our physical behaviour." [Kenny
(1992), p.2. Bold emphases added; paragraphs merged.]
This view
has largely remained unchallenged for centuries:
"...[V]irtually no philosopher doubted, from the time of
Locke
until roughly 1914, that, whatever concepts and ideas were, they were clearly
mental objects of some kind. And no large-scale and comprehensive demolition job
was done against this particularly wide-spread and influential philosophical
misconception until
Wittgenstein
produced his
Philosophical Investigations...."
[Putnam (1975b), p.7.]
What is even
more ironic is that the above comrades attempt to 'solve' this pseudo-problem
with a series of dialectical gyrations that are
even more obscure than the conundrum Descartes bequeathed to humanity!
Fourth,
there is no need for materialists to concede an inch of ground to the Idealists
in this area since there is in fact a materialist account of psychological
phenomena already available to us. The latter relies on concepts drawn from
HM, or which are
consistent with it -- i.e., on the psychological vocabulary found in ordinary
language.
The pay-off
is that this approach undermines immaterialism far faster than DM succeeds in
perpetuating it.
[Further
details are given below; see also,
Note 86.]
55.
On this, see Note 54 above.
Moreover, as
we saw in Essay Twelve Part One,
such a theory would collapse into incoherence anyway. [In relation to that,
see the references itemised in Note 86, below.]
55a. Often this will include a direct
or indirect reference to Engels's first 'Law' in support of this inference.
However, as we saw in Essay Seven
Part One, that 'Law' is far too
insubstantial to support the weight of a
Mayfly on a
crash diet, let alone this a priori
dogma.
An excellent
recent illustration of this reliance on the 'First Law' can be found in this
quotation from
Mike Macnair:
"The phrase 'transition from quantity
to quality' has the disadvantage of Hegelianism. But it has the helpful aspect
of drawing attention precisely to the fact that crisis emerges out of prior,
gradual processes, which are perfectly identifiable while they are going on,
even if they may happen not to be noticed until the outbreak of crisis....
"Materialism, in the sense of Marxist materialism, has more than one level. The
most basic level is that it is unnecessary to suppose the existence of god or
gods, a 'world-spirit', the Hegelian self-moving Idea, spirits, the existence of
the soul, the élan vital, or an immaterial homunculus 'consciousness'
which sits in the human body and drives it as a motorist drives a car. The
phenomena can be adequately explained by the methods of the sciences without any
such suppositions. The ideas in my head are electro-chemical phenomena in my
brain which are part of an embodied
consciousness, which has developed through the physical (Darwinian) and
social evolution of the human species. The words I am writing are -- as I
write them -- electrical patterns in the computer; when they are printed they
will be patterns of ink on the printed page. They are just as material as trees,
etc." [Quoted from
here. Bold emphases added. Quotation
marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.]
Alas, in the
very same breath as rejecting the need to appeal to an homunculus, McNair
refers his readers to concepts that only work if there is indeed one of these
'beasties' lodged in his head!
To be sure,
McNair doesn't explicitly link Engels's 'Law' with 'consciousness', but there is
little in his article to suggest he would disagree with this comment of Chris
Harman's:
"Such developments do not involve just
quantitative changes. As the growth of labour, the growth of sociability and the
growth of language reinforced each other, encouraging the selection of a whole
range of new genes, new networks of nerve cells wouldemergein the brain, making possible whole new ranges of
interaction between people and the world around them….
"So there has to be a recognition of how
quantity turns into quality, of how through successive changes animal life
gave birth to that new form of life we call 'human', which has a dynamic of its
own, shaped by its labour and its culture not by its genes…." [Harman
(1994), pp.102. Bold emphases added.]
Indeed,
Trotsky himself seems to have endorsed this point:
"...[I]t is precisely dialectical
materialism that prompts us to the idea that the psyche could not even be formed
unless it played an autonomous, that is, within certain limits, an independent
role in the life of the individual and the species.
"All the same, we approach some sort
of critical point, a break in the gradualness, a transition from quantity into
quality: the psyche arising from matter, is 'freed' from the determinism of
matter, so that it can independently --- by its own laws -- influence matter."
[Trotsky (1986), p.106. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions
adopted at this site. Bold emphasis added.]
Once more, all four are clearly operating within the
Cartesian Paradigm, arguing that the
alleged link between 'mind' (or, in Trotsky's case, the "psyche") and matter
needs to be explained. These comrades just assume there is something
called "the mind" which has to be related to "the body";
they don't even think to question this ancient myth. Once again, all they
have to offer is their own solution to this intractable 'problem'. And yet, if
there is no such thing as 'the mind', the 'problem' simply evaporates.
[Again, when I use the word "mind" I am employing it in its everyday sense, not
as philosophers and mystics have used it.]
Sure, they
reject dualism, but Descartes's concepts have been transposed and then
translated into what they take to be materialist terms. No attempt has been made
to reject up-front Descartes's distortion of language, or question his paradigm
root-and-branch. The terms of the entire problematic have been set by
Descartes's Paradigm; the attitude and approach adopted by DM-theorists toward
that Paradigm is consistent with what I alleged of them in
Essay Two:
As will soon
become apparent, for all their claims to be radical, when it comes to
Philosophy
DM-theorists are
surprisinglyconservative -- and universally incapable
of seeing this even after it has been pointed out to them!
[An
excellent example of this phenomenon, and one that has
been
highly influential
on how DM-theorists receive and then respond to such criticism, has been posted
here.]
At a
rhetorical level, this philosophical conservatism is camouflaged behind what at
first sight appears to be a series of disarmingly modest denials --,
which are then promptly flouted.
The
quotations given below (in
Essay Two and in
Note 1) show that
DM-theorists are keen to deny that their system is wholly, or even partly,
a priori, or that it has been dogmatically
imposed on the world, not read from it. However, the way that dialecticians
themselves phrase their theories contradicts these seemingly modest-looking
claims, revealing that the opposite
is in fact the case....
However, unlike
dialecticians, Traditional Metaphysicians were quite open and honest about what
they were doing; indeed, they brazenly imposed their a priori theories on
reality and hung the consequences.
But, because
dialecticians have a novel (but nonetheless defective) view of both Metaphysics
and FL (on that, see
here and
here), they are oblivious of the
fact that they are just as eager as Traditional Theorists have always been to
impose their ideas on the world, and equally blind to the fact that in so-doing
they are aping the
alienated thought-forms of their class enemy, whose society they seek to
abolish.
Naturally, this means that their 'radical' guns were spiked beforethey were even loaded; with such weapons, is it any wonder that
DM-theorists fire nothing but philosophical blanks?
[FL = Formal Logic.]
DM is a
conservative theory precisely because its adherents have imported and then
adopted the distorted methods,
a priori
thought-forms, theories and meaningless jargon of Traditional Philosophy.
Finally, some might conclude that the approach adopted in the Essay means that
Ms Lichtenstein is a
Behaviourist. Nothing could be further from the truth. On that, see
Hacker (1993e).
56.
These allegations are further substantiated below, as well as
here.
56a0.
The evidence that there are indeed such
sub-vocal movements has been controversial at least since the days of
Watson.
[There is a wealth of detail in Sokolov (1975); alas, this book is now nearly
forty years out-of-date.]
However,
communication and surveillance technologies are now being built around this
phenomenon, so it is difficult to conclude it is illusory. [On that, see
here and
here.] If this is indeed a genuine phenomenon, then "inner speech" (if this
is what it is!) will simply be 'outer speech' with the volume set close
to zero, as noted above. In other words, it will be another category of overt
behaviour, as Watson had claimed. Even so, it is far from clear whether or not
scientists involved in this research are studying the same phenomenon as Watson.
Moreover,
Skinner
(working in the same (Behaviourist) tradition as Watson) later denied this
phenomenon could even account for thinking. [Skinner (1992), pp.434-35.]
On that, see
here. [Unfortunately, this link is now dead! It used to link to a site that
debunks many of the misrepresentations of Behaviourism with which we have become
familiar since
Chomsky's famous 'refutation' of Skinner.]
That 'refutation' is reappraised in
Richelle (1995), and shown to be far less conclusive than many have supposed.
[On Richelle's book, see
here. (This link is also dead!) ] See also Julià (1983) and MacCorquodale
(1970), whose argument has been neatly summarised by a friend of mine, as
follows:
"MacCorquodale among other things characterized Chomsky's review as 'an amalgam
of some rather out-dated behaviouristic lore including reinforcement by drive
reduction, the extinction criterion for response strength, a
pseudo-incompatibility of genetic and reinforcement processes, and other notions
which have nothing to do with Skinner's account.' In other words MacCorquodale
charged that Chomsky was basically attacking a straw man which had little to do
with Skinner's actual views, in particular failing to distinguish the ways in
which Skinner's radical behaviourism differed from other forms of behaviourism."
[Jim Farmelant, quoted from
here. Spelling altered to conform with UK
English.]
56a.
Indeed, how we even know that "inner speech is 'predicative' if we have
no direct access to it (and no one has ever heard it) remains something of a
mystery.
56b.
Further ruminations on this topic will take us too far into a consideration of
Wittgenstein's famous
Private Language Argument [PLA]. More on that in another Essay.
However, it
is possible to argue that the PLA was prefigured in
Marx's
work, as indeed it was, in Part Two, Chapter Three of Voloshinov's own book
--, i.e., pp.83-98. This may perhaps be from where Wittgenstein derived some of
these ideas, via Sraffa. I have said more about that,
here.
57.
For somerecent work on "inner speech", see
Note 42, above.
58.Again, it is worth pointing out that it
isn't easy to see what Parrington means by "inner speech" -- since he forgot to tell us!
On
soliloquy, cf., Ryle (1982b) and Squires (1974). See also, Hacker (1993b, 1993c,
1993d), Hark (1990), and Johnston (1993). In addition, see the references in Note 86,
below.
59.A very useful summary of these and other
senses of "meaning" can be found in Audi (1999), pp.545-50 (written by
Brian Loar).
This isn't,
of course, to deny the sort of complexity that interests linguists. On the
latter, see Cruse (2000), pp.46-63.
60.
It has to be said: this is also true of Wittgenstein! He only examined a
limited range of meanings of "meaning", and in his later work conflated the
sense of a sentence with its meaning. The same is the case with many
Wittgensteinians, too.
61.
The alleged connection between thought and language is far too large a topic to
address adequately here; I will attempt to do so in a later Essay. Anyway,
Marxists
have in general adopted the view that these two seemingly disparate 'phenomena'
are intimately linked, i.e., that language is the embodiment of 'thought'.
"Language
is the immediate actuality of thought.
Just as philosophers have given thought an independent existence, so they were
bound to make language into an independent realm. This is the secret of
philosophical language, in which thoughts in the form of words have their own
content. The problem of descending from the world of thoughts to the actual
world is turned into the problem of descending from language to life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphasis
added.]
[There is a very good summary of the views expressed by Marx and other Marxists
(concerning the relation between language and thought) in the opening pages of
Sokolov (1975), pp.1-3.]
The problem with all this is that it relies on a very narrow understanding of
our use of the word "thought". This then motivates comrades to postulate the
existence of "inner speech" to account for this restricted understanding,
transforming 'thought' into a process that takes place in the head. Indeed,
Sokolov falls into that trap, too.
[On this, see Bennett and Hacker (2022), pp.187-93, 384-90. See also, Hacker
(1993a), pp.143-82, and Teichmann (2015). In this Essay I have alluded
in general to this narrow, traditional concept (i.e., 'thought') using
'scare quotes'.]
However, typical uses of the verb form of this word include the
following:
T1: NN thought that the strike would start on
the 5th.
T2: I think that you are too quick to condemn the
organisers of this demonstration.
T3: The shop stewards thought about management's
latest offer for about ten seconds, and then rejected it.
T4: John thought about his brother James.
T5: I need to think through what you said.
T6: The strike committee thought over the proposal
to widen the strike.
T7: I can't think who you mean.
T8: I'd hate to think why he said that.
T9:
NN would like to think your application for this post is serious.
Here, this
verb seems to take on the following forms:
(1) "NN
(or one or more unnamed individuals) thinks that
p" (where "p" is a propositional variable, and "NN" stands
for a Proper Name),
(2) "NN
(or one or more unnamed individuals) thinks about/through/over F", and "NN
(or one or more unnamed individuals) φ-ies to think who/why F"
(where "F" is a noun or verb phrase and "φ" a verb phrase).
This isn't
to suggest that the above exhausts the verbal forms the use of this word can
assume, far from it. For more detail on this, see Hacker (1993b, 1993c, 1993d),
and Ryle (1971e, 1971f, 1971g, 1982a). On our use of phrases like "the mind",
see Hacker (1993f), as well as these videos:
Video Six: Peter Hacker --
Resolving The
'Mind/Body' Problem
Video Seven: Peter Hacker On The
Mind,
Neuroscience And Free Will
[As well as a video of Hacker's mentioned
earlier. Nevertheless, it is
worth noting that Ryle makes far too many concessions to the idea that there is,
or can be, 'non-linguistic thought'; but this isn't the place to dissect his
ideas. Hacker's work is a necessary corrective, however.]
There are,
of course, other uses of "thought" and its cognates. We can speak about "human
thought" in general, and we can say things like "She put much thought into her
reply", "Your thoughts on this would be most welcome", "A thought just crossed
my mind", or even "He gave no thought to her feelings".
However, this nominal use of this word is often clearly metaphorical. Do
thoughts really cross minds? How fast? In which direction? Do they walk,
run or hitch a ride along a nerve? Or are we not merely adverting to the fact
that something had occurred to the individual concerned? And when someone
welcomes your thoughts, are they really asking that you reveal to them a part of
your brain, or even its inner goings-on via a brain scan or brain probe? Are
they not rather expressing a desire to hear what you have to say? Or, maybe,
that they value your opinion? Moreover, when we put much thought into something
(such as a reply), is the 'thought' involved packed in there tightly, or
loosely? And how is such thought to be measured (so that we know there is indeed
much packed in there)? Are replies really containers? Or are we not
saying that the work in question showed great care and attention to detail? Are
we perhaps alluding to the time spent on it, the superior quality of its mode of
expression, style and clarity? And when we refer to "human thought" are we
referring to what goes on in our heads? Why then do we say that libraries are
repositories of human thought? Are we not in fact referring to our collective
intellectual achievements and practices?
[There are
many more examples of the deconstruction of nominalised words connected with
human thought to be found in Hacker's and Ryle's work, referenced above.]
Nevertheless, the idea that the word "thought" names something that goes on in
our heads is based on a defective analogy drawn between with sentences like
these:
T9: NN had a thought in her head.
T10: NN had a tooth in her head.
From T9, we
may obtain:
T11: NN thought that...
or, perhaps:
T12: NN thought about...
But, we
can't obtain the following from T10:
T13: NN toothed that...
or,
T14: NN toothed about...
This shows
that the nominal form of "thought" doesn't work like an ordinary
count noun,
and that the verb form (expressed in T11) is its primary form. In that case,
"thought" doesn't name anything in the head (or anywhere else), unlike "tooth".
The nominal use of "thought" is a result of the
nominalisation of the verb form (hence, the derivation of T11 and T12, say,
from T9 is unexceptional). And that, naturally, helps account for the complex or
metaphorical nature of the nominal form of this word.
Of course,
we could imagine a poet, say, using T13 or T14 figuratively, but no literal
sense can be made of either as they stand.
Someone might object, arguing that to tooth something is to bite it. Maybe so,
but that can't be obtained from T10, as T11 can be obtained from T9 -- no sense
can be made of "NN toothed that a cake", or "NN toothed about a sandwich."
This result
shouldn't worry Marxists since it puts the active form of the word first,
emphasising its social nature.
Be this as
it may, Holborow seems to be a little more secure in her grasp of the intimate
connection between language and 'thought' than Parrington appears to be. [Cf.,
Holborow (1999), pp.31-32.]
For example,
Parrington says things like the following:
"Voloshinov was primarily concerned to develop a Marxist theory of language, but
his theories have a crucial importance for understanding human consciousness
because they also deal with two of psychology's central questions -- the
relationship between the individual and society and the relationship between
thought and language." (p.123)
"Both Chomsky and
Pinker
are similarly incapable of explaining the influence of social change on language
and thus of the development of language over time. Both these flaws are linked
to a much deeper and more fundamental one -- the separation between individual
thought and social language that we found in the earlier theories of language.
Voloshinov's work is as relevant today as it was in the 1920s because it
bridges the gap between individual thought and social language." (p.125)
"We saw that in many theories of language there was a split between social
language and the individual consciousness. This was particularly reflected in
Saussure's (sic) formulation which
counterposed the fixed language of society to the 'wilful, intellectual act'
characterising the speech of the individual. A similar split characterises the
theories of Chomsky and his followers. Thus Chomsky refers to 'competence'
versus 'performance' in speech. These views of language are themselves a
consequence of a lack of awareness about the material nature of the
connection between thought and language." (p.129)
"If inner speech is the link between thought and language as Voloshinov
argues, how can we learn about its shape and form?... Thus there is a gap
between thought and words
but words remain the only possible way of expressing ourselves fully to others.
Thought which remains unexpressed remains immature and eventually dies out...."
(Loc cit.,
pp.134-35)
[Bold emphases and links added.]
The above
looks like it distinguishes thought from language; indeed, it stresses
the "gap" between them that "inner speech" is supposed to "bridge". If 'thought'
were solely a feature of our use of language, then, of course, no bridge would
be needed.
"Voloshinov provided a number of key insights which allow us to overcome the gap
between social language and individual consciousness. Firstly, on the material
basis of thought. What concepts such as Pinker's 'mentalese' do is merely
obscure the fact that both thought and language have the same material basis,
that is, words." (p.129)
"Language, therefore, is not just an expression of otherwise independent and
fully formed thought, but rather is a necessary form of the thought's
realisation." (Loc cit.,
p.135) [Ibid.]
And yet, it
is difficult to see how the "material basis" for thought can be "words" if there
is also a "gap between thought and words". Moreover, if a thought can be
"unexpressed" and can eventually "die out", thought must be possible without
language. From this it seems that Parrington accepts the
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm,
that thought precedes language, and that language is a vehicle by means
of which we express thoughts formed independently of, and anterior to, language.
If this social medium (language) is independent of thought, then thought
can't be a social product, but the product of an atomised individual.
In which case, this is just a contemporary version of the
early bourgeois idea that language is only a medium of communication when it
allows us to exchange ideas formedindependently of it. As noted
earlier:
It was
established in Essay Twelve Part Seven (not yet published) that a particular
theory of language has dominated 'Western' (and, indeed, 'Eastern') thought for
over two thousand years. This approach sees the primary role of discourse (in
fact, in many cases, its only
role) as representational, and hence that it acts solely as a vehicle
for thought
(or an outer expression of 'inner thought'), not as a means of
communication. In fact, if discourse was ever (reluctantly) seen as a means
of communication, it was then often regarded as a vehicle for communicating
thoughtsalready arrived at independently of, and prior to, social
interaction.
Although
Parrington appears to reject the idea that language is an individualised
phenomenon, and thus that it is primarily representational (in, for example, his
discussion of the ideas of
Ferdinand de Saussure --
pp.123ff -- although we will soon see that several other things he says
about language reveal that he has in fact also retreated, and accepts the idea
that language isn't a social phenomenon, after all), this seems to commit
him to the theory that
thought is representational, and that language feeds off this atomised,
or individualised, component of human psychology.
"The foremost philosopher of language at
the time Voloshinov was writing was the Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure,
often described as the founder of modern linguistics. Saussure believed that the
job of linguists was not to study the history of language but its structure, and
that structure should be studied in its own terms and for its own sake.
Expressing this belief in a famous statement, Saussure said:
'In separating language from speaking we
are at the same time separating: (1) what is social from what is individual; and
(2) what is essential from what is accessory and more or less accidental.
Language is not a function of the speaker; it is a product that is passively
assimilated by the individual. It never requires premeditation and reflection
enters in only for the purpose of classification.... Speaking, on the contrary,
is an individual act. It is wilful and intellectual.'
"Saussure had a reason for making such a
separation between language and actual speech. By considering language as a
system set aside from the individuals who actually practise it, he was able to
make some important generalisations about the nature of language which had been
impossible before. One of Saussure's primary concepts was that words are
arbitrary signs. This lack of a physical connection with the objects in the
outside world that words specify has the important consequence that it provides
the conditions for the meaning of words to change over time. Another fundamental
concept that Saussure introduced was the idea that the linguistic value of a
word in any given context is determined by the other words with which it occurs,
and that this follows certain rules of grammar (the way words are strung
together) and phonetics (the way words sound). This interaction he compared to
that which exists between the different pieces in a game of chess. As well as
his own personal discoveries, Saussure's work was of more general importance in
opening up the possibility of studying the structural constraints and the rules
which govern language by considering it as an abstract system. This has indeed
been the main preoccupation of linguistics over the course of the 20th century.
"Voloshinov was quite aware of the
significance of Saussure's work. But he argued that his achievements had come at
a price. According to Voloshinov, one of the problems of making a 'comparison of
language to a system of mathematical signs', as Saussure did, was that this can
develop into an interest solely in 'the inner logic of the system of signs
itself, taken as in algebra, completely independently of the ideological
meanings that give the signs their content'. Voloshinov pointed out that
Saussure's formulation failed to explain how language as a social form changes
over time and from where individual creativity comes.
"Voloshinov counterposed Saussure's ideas to those of an earlier philosopher of
language,
Wilhelm von Humboldt
whose theory of language can be viewed as the polar opposite to that of
Saussure. Inspired by
Romantic
philosophy, von Humboldt believed that
the essence of language is precisely that creative act of the individual which
Saussure had rejected as a subject for study. However, this meant that von
Humboldt was unable to view language as a social system. He thus found it
impossible to explain why particular individuals say the things they do,
assuming as he did that individual creativity was given. His approach ended up
both emptying language of its ideological content and neglecting its
intrinsically social nature. According to Voloshinov, both Saussure and von
Humboldt had falsely separated the individual from society. Although Saussure
recognised language as a social phenomenon, his method prevents us studying it
in a social context." [Parrington (1997),
pp.123-24. Links added.]
And yet, as
we have seen (especially
here), Voloshinov's work in the end also
treats language as an individual, not a social, phenomenon. So, Parrington's
comments about thought (alongside other things he says about language, examined
in the main body of this Essay) confirm the allegation made above that
Parrington has also bought into this bourgeois individualist idea.
Although, it
is perhaps better to say that while Voloshinov and his epigones say they
accept the social nature of language, they have clearly failed to think through
the implications of that commitment.
As I have
argued in Essay Twelve Part One:
Furthermore, an even less well
appreciated corollary of this view of discourse is that language is primarily a
vehicle of communication, not of representation.
Added in and Endnote: The attack on the social roots of language -- replacing a
Marxist commitment to this idea with a mystical belief that language in effect
contains a secret code which is capable of reflecting the underlying
'Essence' of Nature, and which has somehow also been stitched into the fabric of
reality, so that the one can 'reflect' the other -- helped motivate the belief
that language is primarily
representational (as we will see in the next two Parts of Essay Twelve
-- summary here).
According
to this ancient doctrine, language itself contains hidden clues -- clues that
can only be accessed, or 'understood', by the elite, their ideologues, their
hangers-on, lackeys, or by specially-trained
'thinkers'. Cosmic verities like this lie way beyond the grasp of ordinary
humans -- so the story goes --, trapped as they are in a world of 'commonsense',
dominated by ordinary language and 'formal thinking'. This 'Divine Code' was
thought to have been written into, or actually was, the
'primary
language' given to Adam by God
-- but, similar myths are also found in other religions and cultural traditions.
Much of
Hermetic,
Neo-Platonic,
Alchemical
and Kabbalistic
mysticism is largely based on this dogma.
[On
this, see Bono (1995), Eco (1997), and Vickers (1984b). This topic will be
explored more fully in Essay Fourteen Part One (summary
here), and
other Parts of Essay Twelve.]
Signs, or
'hidden messages', were believed to be written in the stars, too, or in sacred
books, tea leaves, the flight of birds, the organs and entrails of slaughtered
animals -- or, indeed, in its more recent incarnation, encrypted somehow in our
central nervous system as a "transformational
grammar" ("unbounded
merge") or "language
of thought".
In
DM-circles, this doctrine surfaces as part of the a priori dogma that
thought is dialectical because reality is dialectical
(which 'profound secret' is, alas, hidden from those who refuse to see, or who
just do not "understand" dialectics). Hence, DM can be called an "Algebra of
Revolution", which works because it alone is tuned into the "pulse
of reality" -- or, perhaps even: because reality
'dances'
to its tune.
It is
undeniable that some Marxists have acknowledged the (perhaps limited)
applicability of the former corollary -- that language is conventional --, but
hardly any
(perhaps non at all) have considered the full implications of the second -- that
language isn't primarily
representational. Certainly Marx and Engels failed to do this, and so
have subsequent Marxists. Indeed, much of what they have written on this topic
-- especially about 'abstraction', 'cognition' and knowledge --
suggests that the opposite is in fact the case.
In this
regard once more, dialecticians aren't alone. Until recently, little critical
attention has been paid to the traditional view that language is primarily
representational, i.e., that it enables human beings to re-present the
'objective' world in "thought", the "head", the "mind", "consciousness", or
"cognition" first, before communication can begin.
The
underlying assumption has rarely been questioned (again until recently): that
is, that it is only after language users have learnt to picture reality
to themselves that they are then able to communicate their thoughts to others,
and that observation applies equally well to those who at least give lip
service to the idea that the primarily role of language lies in
communication. This means that, despite what they might say, the social
nature of language is seen by the vast majority of Marxists as a consequence
of the isolated (but later pooled) cognitive resources of individuals, an
expression of their attempt to share the 'contents' of their 'minds', their
'abstractions',with their listeners, not the other way round.
It seems to
many (even on the revolutionary left) that here at least we have an example of
private (mental) production coupled with public gain, for on this view, it
is the isolated activity of lone abstractors
that powers cognition, and this supposedly helps drive the social
advancement of knowledge after these abstractions have somehow been
pooled, or shared....
This
approach thus relegates meaning to the private domain of the 'mind', something
that each individual brings to
language --, perhaps as an expression of their own biographies or the
ideological parameters that constrain them....
As we saw in
Essay Three
Part Two, post-Renaissance
thinkers (Rationalists
and Empiricists alike) took the public domain (where meaning is
created), inverted it, and then projected it back into each individual skull,
re-configured there as the
social relations among ideas, or
'concepts'!
This
resulted in the systematic fetishisation of language and thought, leading to the
conflation of the 'objective' world with the subjective contents of the 'mind'.
["Fetishised", since, as we will see, words are seen as agents, here.]
The outer, social world was thus re-located in each individual head, the latter
seen as primary, the former as secondary (or non-existent, in some
cases!). In this way, the social was privatised, internalised, and hence
neutralised. No wonder then that modern philosophy soon descended into
full-blown Idealism, with Kant complaining that it was scandal that philosophers
had so far failed to prove the existence of the 'external' world! Small wonder,
too, that Dialectical Marxists felt they had to invert things once more
-- allegedly putting them 'back on their feet' -- all the while failing to note
that their theory of language and cognition actually prevents them from
doing precisely that.
More
recently, this ruling-class thought-form has re-surfaced in several new
disguises: sometimes as the inter-relationship between neurons (as they
'communicate' with one another), supposedly controlled by the oppressive power
of the gene -- which now seems to operate as a sort of surrogate inner
Bourgeois Legislative and Executive
Authority --; sometimes as computational device (or at least a device that helps
'the mind' write or use the 'software').
Given this
view, while human beings might be born free of language, everywhere they are
imprisoned by linguistic chains manufactured and controlled by an inner
surrogate 'state' (comprised of genes, 'modules', or assorted 'neural
nets')....
In fact,
this is one ideological inversion that has remained upside down (but in
different forms), not just for hundreds but for thousands of years, and which is
largely the source of the other 'inverted ideas' cobbled-together by Traditional
Philosophers and dialecticians alike. Inverted now, as in a camera obscura,
these rotated concepts cloud the thoughts of all those whose brains they have
colonised -- which, of course, helps explain why the ideas of the ruling-class
always rule.
[More
details can be found in Essay Twelve Part One,
here.]
Dave McNally,
for example, had this to say in his highly selective summary of
Voloshinov's ideas:
"The very first pages of
Marxism and the Philosophy of Language are organized around the opposition
between natural phenomena and the world of signs. Natural bodies do not signify,
they do not take on special meanings by reference to something else, says
Voloshinov. A tool is a tool, a loaf of bread is a loaf of bread. Each is
self-identical, a natural object, not a sign. Human reality is this twofold,
consisting of natural phenomena and signs: 'side by side with the natural
phenomena, with the equipment of technology, and with articles of consumption
there exists a special world -- the world of signs' [Voloshinov (1973),
pp.9-10.] Now, as a point of departure this would be a helpful distinction. It
would enable Voloshinov to use the distinction natural phenomena/sign to point
out that signs do not occur in a purely natural way. To acquire meaning they
must be socially organised to that end, they must become part of a sign system.
But from here, it would be necessary to show how 'natural' phenomena -- the
material structure of the world, biological history, the human larynx, voice,
hands, and so on -- are essential to human sign systems. It would be necessary,
in other words, to show that signifying activity is conditioned by the
'natural,' just as the human-natural world is socially mediated." [McNally
(2001), p.119. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted
at this site. Spelling adapted to UK English; italic emphases in the
original.]
But, don't
we say things like "Those clouds are a sign of rain", or "Those footprints are a
sign there are deer in the vicinity". To be sure, they are signs for us, but
weren't clouds a sign of rain before we evolved?
Be this as
it may, McNally goes on to point out that this distinction is problematic since
it is not only far too rigorous, it is static, as well. [McNally, it
seems, prefers a 'dialectical' relationship, here.] Even so, he still maintains
the view that for Voloshinov:
"[S]igns...are social not individual; a
fully formed psychic life is a social one." [Ibid., p.120.]
However, as
we have seen (here
and here), while Voloshinov gestures
at a social understanding of language and signs, his view of both rapidly lapses
into a traditional view that language is an individual and representational
phenomenon.
[I will add several more comments about
McNally's work here in a later re-write of this Essay.]
Holborow has
similarly been led astray by another of Voloshinov's inappropriate metaphors:
the idea that "signs are the means of mental processing" (ibid., p.31). On
signs, see Note 23, and
Note 85. [See also Stroud (1991, 1996).]
61a. Some might object and claim they can
repeat the same thought
without using these or any other words! However, little content can be given to
that particular counterclaim until far more details are forthcoming. And good
luck to anyone who attempts to fill those details in without using any language.
62.
That is, unless we acknowledge the existence of 'languageless' thoughts, once
more. [On this, see Note 1.] It
would take a brave Marxist to go down that route, for it would amount to
yet another damaging concession to Dualism. [On that, see
here, as well as Note 66 and Note 86.]
As,
Parrington himself pointed out:
"Language, therefore, is not just an
expression of otherwise independent and fully formed thought, but rather is a
necessary form of the thought's realisation." [Parrington (1997),
p.135.]
Even so, as we saw above, this still
leaves it unclear whether there can be 'pre-linguistic thoughts'. As far as can
be ascertained, Parrington doesn't rule this out, and neither does Voloshinov.
[On this, see Note 61.]
62a0. There is a detailed description of how
metaphors and pictures like these have misled Traditional Philosophers in
Fischer (2011a, 2011b).
63.
I.e., in the sense that there are no round squares -- that is, it makes no sense
to suppose there are any, not
that it is false to say that there are. On the other hand, if it were merely
false to say there were such things as round squares, then it would make
sense to suppose that it could be true there were round squares. Plainly,
that would run together what should be matters of fact with what conceptually
confused sentences. [Why this is so is explored at length in Essay Twelve
Part One. Again, on this, see
Note 67.]
64.
Any more than there is a gap between 'Satan' and 'God', or between Big Foot and
the Tooth Fairy, for science to study.
This might seem to suggest that the
issue here is empirical, when it isn't; on that, see
Note 63.
65.
The idea that there could be linguistic expressions -- or representational
surrogates of them -- in our heads falls foul of the modified Devitt objection
outlined earlier.
Of course, 'consciousness'
itself is the product of yet another reification of language. However, in this
case, this reification produces the spurious 'philosophical problem' that some
declare is among the
hardest problems science has yet to solve. But, and once again, there is no
'problem' of 'consciousness' that isn't itself the product of the above
linguistic reification (the origin of which was explored
here, and in Note 1).
If we
examine how we actually use this word (and its associated terms) in everyday
life, it is easy to see that "consciousness" normally only ever appears
in medical or forensic contexts:
C1: "Has the patient regained
consciousness?"
C2: "It's at this point that he lost
consciousness."
Neither of
these even remotely suggests an inner process, one that is incapable of
mystifying any but the terminally naive. Both sentences suggest there are
behavioural criteria for the application of the word, "consciousness".
Is it even
possible to regain an 'inner process'? Or to lose one?
[It
is also important to distinguish the verb form of this word -- "conscious" --
from the nominal form -- "consciousness".]
I am,
however, aware that the above comments could
provoke far more hostility
from some quarters than practically anything else in this Essay; but that just
shows to what extent this ancient ruling-class
idea
has colonised most minds. Again, as Anthony Kenny, Hilary Putnam and Francisco
Garzón noted (quoted earlier):
"Descartes view of the nature of mind
endured much longer than his view of matter. Indeed among educated people in
the West who were not professional philosophers it is still the most widespread
view of the mind. Most contemporary philosophers would disown Cartesian
dualism but even those who explicitly renounce it are often profoundly
influenced by it. Many people, for instance, go along with Descartes in
identifying the mental realm as the realm of consciousness. They think of
consciousness as an object of introspection; as something we see when we look
within ourselves. They think of it as an inessential, contingent matter that
consciousness has an expression in speech and behaviour. Consciousness, as
they conceive it, is something to which each of us has direct access in our own
case. Others, by contrast, can only infer to our conscious states by
accepting our testimony or making causal inferences from our physical
behaviour." [Kenny (1992), p.2. Bold emphases added; paragraphs merged.]
"...[V]irtually no philosopher doubted, from the time of
Locke
until roughly 1914, that, whatever concepts and ideas were, they were clearly
mental objects of some kind. And no large-scale and comprehensive demolition job
was done against this particularly wide-spread and influential philosophical
misconception until
Wittgenstein
produced his
Philosophical Investigations...."
[Putnam (1975b), p.7.]
"The notions of computation and representation
are not just common currency in cognitive science modelling. To put it mildly,
they are the building blocks of the discipline. Alternative voices
from a number of subdisciplines that call into question these notions have
periodically been raised. Unfortunately, after an initial, and usually short,
excitement they remain quiet. Silence is due mainly to two reasons. On the one
hand, the dominant paradigmoverwhelms competitors
(sometimes due to 'pragmatic' considerations) with data already accounted for
and results to be accounted for, and on the other hand, alternative framings are
repeatedly absorbed and made innocuous. Both reasons are interrelated.
Alternatives raised, by default, carry the burden of proof in such a way thatthe dominant paradigm is the one that chooses what phenomena are in
need of explanation.... Problems start when the what limits the
range
of options available when it comes to answering the how." [Garzón
(2008), pp.259-60. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.
Bold emphases alone added.]
On this, see
the references given in Note 86,
below -- but, particularly Hacker (2012,
2013a);
I have reproduced the opening two pages of the latter,
here.
Also see
Note 66 and Note 69.
66.
This might seem to some to be an example
of the present author "poisoning
the wells"; that is, warning others off raising questions concerning the
material basis of thought with a mixture of scare tactics and "keep off" signs.
However, the main argument in this part of the Essay revolves around the
suggestion that this entire topic is a
pseudo-problem, predicated on an ancient, mystical dogma that we are all in
effect just embodied souls, that there are
two different features of our make-up that need explaining (or, even,
that there is a 'gap' that has opened up between these two aspects which needs
bridging) -- the 'Mind', or 'Consciousness', and the Body -- which doctrine
itself is the result of centuries of
mysticism, linguistic
reification and
fetishisation.
If,
however, there is no good reason for materialists to accept the dogma that there
are two 'realms' -- an inner, hidden, 'mental' world, and an 'outer',
physical world of events or processes --, then it is surely pertinent to ask
where this notion came from and why the vast majority of Marxists have given it
credence. Indeed, it is in just this area that the links between
Traditional Dogma and
DM become all the clearer, and which need exposing as a result.
We have
already seen that this approach to 'mind' and 'consciousness' is based on the Platonic-Christian-Cartesian view of
'mind' and body. As noted above,
dialecticians might be tempted to reject this allegation out-of-hand, but the
fact is that even though they propose their own distinct solution to this
'problem', they have obviously bought into the world-view Descartes bequeathed
to 'western' thought, along with its obscure jargon and incoherent
terms-of-reference. [On this, see also
here and
here.] But, this entire problematic is
based
solely on linguistic confusion and Mystical Platonism; that being so,
there is in fact no problem to address. In turn, this means that we
don't need a 'theory' to 'solve' it.
Were it not
for the deleterious effect that DM has had on the thinking of revolutionaries
(super-gluing them to the Cartesian and
Representational
view of language and 'mind', compounded by what is in fact a
metaphysical view of
'reality'), an investigation into the material roots of thought would rightly
have been situated in the open, in a public arena -- where half-way decent
HM-theorists should
have had their attention focussed anyway.
67.
Of course, this isn't to deny that the word "thought" can function as a
noun. On this, see Note 61.
"[P]hilosophical problems arise when
language goes on holiday."
68a.
It is no surprise then that from
this heady brew there has also emerged (of late) 'rational economic man'
(beloved of 'Rational
Choice Marxists'), a fictional character who behaves just like the atom of
thought that originally went into 'his' creation.
Marxists in
general won't be unaware of the rest of this sorry tale; it is outlined
here and
here for any who
might have allowed themselves to forget.
68b.
As we will see, these moves also had a
profound effect on Marxist theory itself. [More on this below, and in Essay
Twelve Part Seven. Until that is published, see
here.]
69.Ruling-class ideology has in fact
succeeded in doing this, and to such an
extent
that much of the material in this Essay will horrify and repel
many comrades -- at least
many of those who have made it this far --, or, rather, those who have become
used to viewing 'the mind' through Cartesian
spectacles -- so used to it in fact that much, if not all of this Essay,
will be rejected out-of-hand.
After all,
how else could ruling ideas always
rule other than by making radically alternative, if not politically dangerous
ideas (like those presented here) seempatently false? Or, by
biasing the debate to such an extent that the language employed is loaded with
Platonic, Christian or Cartesian jargon, concepts, inappropriate metaphors and
misleading analogies, trapping radical minds inside this dominant Paradigm?
I have quoted this
several times, but it is worth repeating:
"The notions of computation and representation
are not just common currency in cognitive science modelling. To put it mildly,
they are the building blocks of the discipline. Alternative voices
from a number of subdisciplines that call into question these notions have
periodically been raised. Unfortunately, after an initial, and usually short,
excitement they remain quiet. Silence is due mainly to two reasons. On the one
hand, the dominant paradigmoverwhelms competitors
(sometimes due to 'pragmatic' considerations) with data already accounted for
and results to be accounted for, and on the other hand, alternative framings are
repeatedly absorbed and made innocuous. Both reasons are interrelated.
Alternatives raised, by default, carry the burden of proof in such a way thatthe dominant paradigm is the one that chooses what phenomena are in
need of explanation.... Problems start when the what limits the
range
of options available when it comes to answering the how." [Garzón
(2008), pp.259-60. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.
Bold emphases alone added.]
On the other
hand, if an attempt is ever made by Traditional Theorists (or
dialecticians!) to substantiate these Neo-Cartesian doctrines, then that task is
often regarded as an
annoying distraction, required only because of the objections
advanced by those of us who have allegedly adopted an 'anti-scientific' or
'anti-philosophical' bias -- that is, because of the qualms expressed by those
of us who have the temerity to question and then reject the
Platonic-Christian-Cartesian view of the 'Mind'. [On this, see the quotation
from Button
et al,posted earlier.] That
reaction in turn is because this Paradigm has sunk so deep into the collective
Traditional and Dialectical 'Mind' that it is now unquestioned dogma -- a
genuine "ruling idea".
"The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the
ruling ideas, i.e. the class which is the ruling material force of
society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force. The class which has
the means of material production at its disposal, has control at the same time
over the means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the
ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it.
The ruling ideas are nothing more than the ideal expression of the dominant
material relationships, the dominant material relationships grasped as ideas;
hence of the relationships which make the one class the ruling one, therefore,
the ideas of its dominance. The individuals composing the ruling class possess
among other things consciousness, and therefore think. Insofar, therefore, as
they rule as a class and determine the extent and compass of an epoch, it is
self-evident that they do this in its whole range, hence among other things rule
also as thinkers, as producers of ideas, and regulate the production and
distribution of the ideas of their age: thus their ideas are the ruling ideas of
the epoch...." [Marx and Engels (1970), pp.64-65, quoted from
here. Bold emphases added.]
Notice how Marx pointed out that:
"The class which has the means of
material production at its disposal, has control at the same time over the
means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the
ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it....
Insofar, therefore, as they rule as a class and determine the extent and compass
of an epoch, it is self-evident that they do this in its whole range,
hence among other things rule
also as thinkers, as producers of ideas, and regulate
the production and distribution of the ideas of their age...."
[Ibid. Bold emphases added.]
They also
"rule as thinkers, as producers of
ideas, and regulate the production and distribution of the ideas of their age",
and they do so in "its whole range". In which case, the individuals who were
later to become leading revolutionaries (but who had been "subject to" the full
force of this indoctrination
before they became Marxists), can't fail to have had their thinking
shaped by the ideas and thought-forms of the ruling-class, chief among which is
the Platonic-Christian-Cartesian Paradigm.
Which is, of course, why Lenin thought it quite natural to look to the work of
previous thinkers as precursors of the concepts we find in DM, and its
'materialist theory of mind':
"The history of philosophy and the
history of social science show with perfect clarity that there is nothing
resembling 'sectarianism' in Marxism, in the sense of its being a hidebound,
petrified doctrine, a doctrine which arose away from the high road of
the development of world civilisation. On the contrary, the genius of Marx
consists precisely in his having furnished answers to questions already
raised by the foremost minds of mankind. His doctrine emerged as the
direct and immediate
continuation of the teachings of the greatest representatives of
philosophy, political economy and socialism.
"The
Marxist doctrine is omnipotent because it is true. It is comprehensive and
harmonious, and provides men with an integral world outlook irreconcilable with
any form of superstition, reaction, or defence of bourgeois oppression. It is
the legitimate successor to the best that man produced in the nineteenth
century, as represented by German philosophy, English political economy and
French socialism." [Lenin,
Three Sources and Component Parts of
Marxism. Bold emphases alone added.]
Notice,
DM is "successor" and "a continuation of the teachings of the greatest
representatives of philosophy".
A
"continuation" of, not a break from!
69a.
Indeed, comrades were forewarned by Marx
himself about the source of
ideological distortions such as these:
"For philosophers, one of the most
difficult tasks is to descend from the world of thought to the actual world.
Language is the immediate actuality of thought. Just as philosophers have
given thought an independent existence, so they had to make language into an
independent realm. This is the secret of philosophical language, in which
thoughts in the form of words have their own content....
"The philosophers have only to dissolve
their language into the ordinary language, from which it is abstracted, in order
to recognise it, as the distorted language of the actual world, and to realise
that neither thoughts nor language in themselves form a realm of their own, that
they are only manifestations of actual life."
[Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphases
added.]
"The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e.
the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its
ruling intellectual force. The class which has the means of material production
at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of mental
production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the
means of mental production are subject to it. The ruling ideas are nothing
more than the ideal expression of the dominant material relationships, the
dominant material relationships grasped as ideas; hence of the relationships
which make the one class the ruling one, therefore, the ideas of its dominance.
The individuals composing the ruling class possess among other things
consciousness, and therefore think. Insofar, therefore, as they rule as a class
and determine the extent and compass of an epoch, it is self-evident that they
do this in its whole range, hence among other things rule also as thinkers,
as producers of ideas, and regulate the production and distribution of the ideas
of their age: thus their ideas are the ruling ideas of the epoch....'"
[Ibid.,
pp.64-65. Bold emphases added.]
So, there is no excuse!
70.
This last comment is connected with other issues raised in this Essay. One of
these concerns the observation that ruling-class "prize-fighters" -- in most
cases, these used to be Traditional Philosophers, but, more recently they are
often scientists and other 'opinion-formers' who try their hand at a little
amateur 'philosophising' -- display a class-motivated tendency to distort,
depreciate or misuse the vernacular. This they do partly because it is the only
way that they can spin their metaphysical fairy tales (or "cobwebs"
as
Francis Bacon called them), and partly because it is traditional to
do so. [On this, see Essay Twelve Part Seven (summary
here).]
However,
this tactic comes with a price-tag attached:
it renders such 'theories'
non-sensicaland incoherent. As Marx himself noted, that is because this approach has
to distort language in order for it even
to seem to work. To compound the problem, figurative discourse has
to be interpreted (apparently) literally in order to facilitate the
creation of a string of spurious philosophical 'problems'. The complex way that
ordinary language actually functions has to be ignored, altered or (failing
that)
fetishised. This well-trodden path
predisposes those who yet to break with traditional ways of 'philosophising',
into accepting the idea that general words operate as the names of 'abstract'
particulars,
concepts or ideas. Hence, "thought" names 'Thought', "mind" names 'Mind', "to be
aware" names 'Consciousness', and so on. Unfortunately, these moves turn
sentences into
lists of names, preventing them from saying anything at all. The
pseudo-propositions produced as a result are now incapable of expressing
a sense (true or false), and are thus non-sensical. Distortion of language also
renders them incoherent.
[These
allegations were substantiated in detail in Essays Three
Part One and
Twelve Part One. We saw in the
former Essay that lists say nothing at all, unless they are articulated with
words that don't function as names.]
71.Below, I itemise the many studies that
present a more satisfactory analysis of what we all already know about
thought (Voloshinov and John Parrington included).
72.
Again, it is worth noting that I don't prefer this use of language. It is only
being employed to assist in its demise.
73.
Freud's lack of originality was briefly examined in an
earlier Essay. Nevertheless, it is a little puzzling to see Parrington refer
his readers to
Richard Webster's
book on Freud [Parrington (1997),
Note 117, p.149] when Webster himself demonstrated conclusively that Freud
fabricated the evidence that John now says Freud used to prove
there is a link between the 'unconscious' and human sexual behaviour (etc.)!
[Cf., Webster (1995).]
According to
Webster (and he isn't the only one who alleges this), Freud was a
complete charlatan.
Hence, this reference to Freud provides Parrington with about as much genuine
support as the average
WMD dossier
lent to Bush and Blair. [See also Note 74.]
Oddly
enough, McNally also seems to have a high opinion of Freud. [Cf., McNally (2001,
2004).]
74.
The fact that Freud didn't discover the "Unconscious" (as Parrington
still seems to believe) has been uncontroversial among Freud scholars for
several generations. [Cf., Ellenberger (1970), and Whyte (1959).]
The
philosophical difficulties associated with this rather vague notion were
outlined in Bouveresse (1995). [There is more on Freud's fraudulent ideas in
Essay Nine
Part One.]
As
Bouveresse notes:
"It is less frequently noticed, however,
that [Freud's] vision of consciousness remained utterly traditional and bound to
the idea of consciousness as the internal perception of 'objects' of a certain
type -- the paradigm of clear and immediate perception." [Bouveresse (1995),
p.22. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this
site.]
75.
Except, Parrington offers little or no textual evidence for this fanciful
re-definition of "sense"/"theme". In addition, his identification of "meaning"
with the dictionary definition would have surprised Voloshinov.
Despite this, what Parrington goes on to
say about "sense" indicates that he understands the latter to be different from
"theme" in several important respects, a fact that anyone reading both accounts
may readily confirm. [On this, see Note 77.]
Nevertheless, I can find no reference to "sense" in Voloshinov's book. The pages
to which Parrington himself refers actually contain Voloshinov's discussion of
"theme". This suggests that he has translated Voloshinov's word for "theme" into
his own for "sense" --
while leaving both terms
equally obscure!
76.
This peculiar term-of-art (i.e., "values") has been put in 'scare' quotes since
it is widely used in the social sciences (and elsewhere; vote hungry politicians
are particularly fond of employing it, and it now seems to be a permanent
feature of
management-speak)
as a catch-all term for such diverse things as beliefs, moral priorities,
preferences, social mores, attitudes and feelings, along with a host of other
trendy terms. As such, it isn't just hopelessly vague, it is philosophically
useless. Its appearance in Moral Philosophy is as misguided as it is
hackneyed. 'Values' have nothing whatsoever to do with the meaning of the words
we use in moral discourse. A much more secure platform from which to launch an
investigation in this area can be found in von Wright (1963). However, I don't propose to develop
those controversial observations any further at this site.
77.
Of course, this all sits rather awkwardly with what Voloshinov himself says
about "theme" (that is, if the latter is indeed the same as Parrington's
"sense"):
"Let us agree to call the
entity which becomes the object of a sign the theme of the sign. Each
fully fledged sign has its theme. And so every verbal performance has its
theme…."
"A definite and unitary meaning, a
unitary significance, is a property belonging to any utterance as a whole.
Let us call the significance of a whole utterance its theme….
"The theme is the expression of the
concrete, historical situation that engendered the utterance. The utterance
'What time is it?' has a different meaning each time it is used, and hence, in
accordance with our terminology, has a different theme, depending on the
concrete historical situation ('historical' here in microscopic dimensions)
during which it is enunciated and of which, in essence, it is a part….
"It follows, then, that the theme of an
utterance is determined not only by the linguistic forms that comprise it --
words, morphological and syntactic structures, sounds, and intonation -- but
also by extraverbal factors of the situation. Should we miss these situational
factors, we would be as little able to understand an utterance as if we were to
miss its most important words. The theme of an utterance is concrete -- as
concrete as the historical instant to which the utterance belongs. Only an
utterance taken in its full, concrete scope as an historical phenomenon
possesses a theme. That is what is meant by the theme of an utterance….
"Theme is a complex, dynamic system
of signs that attempts to be adequate to a given instant of generative process.
Theme is reaction by the consciousness in its generative process to the
generative process of existence." [Voloshinov (1973), pp.22, 99-100. Bold
emphases added. Italic emphases in the original.]
We saw
earlier that Voloshinov had
an insecure grasp of his own distinction between "theme" and meaning, but
the above passage seems to divorce "theme" from the sort of idiosyncratic
"feelings" and "associations" that Parrington mentioned -- especially the parts
that have been highlighted in bold. This isn't to say that the above can't be
made consistent with Parrington words, the point is: why bother? Most of
Voloshinov's ideas are so confused that incorporating them into any form of
Marxist linguistics would be rather like trying to marry Das Kapital with
Lewis Carroll's
Jabberwocky.
78.
Naturally, this means that words that have never been encountered before by a
given individual would have no meaning/"sense" until that person had formed
their own idiosyncratic "sense"/"tone"-for-them in relation to it. In that case,
when such a person encounters, say, the word "Bogomil"
for the first time they wouldn't need to have its meaning explained to them
(which, of course, would be a useless ceremony, anyway, given Parrington's
theory), they would just need to form, or generate, some feelings (etc.) about
it.
Indeed, anyone who agrees with
Parrington, and who doesn't know what "Bogomil" means, shouldn't follow the link
I posted above; they should instead simply conjure up a few feelings about this
word and all will be become clear!
Naturally, if this
were so, dictionary makers would surely go out of business, to be
replaced by iterant 'feeling-generators' who would make the meaning of words
comprehensible to everyone by…, er, well what? Slaps in the face? Sad stories?
Jokes?
On the other
hand, unscrupulous government agents could manipulate unsuspecting citizens by
inventing new words (making sure that the 'right' feelings and associations had
been engendered in each case in each victim,
1984-style),
in addition to re-defining older words by altering the feelings (etc.) they once
generated (perhaps by the use of drugs, induced pain, or other forms of
aversion
therapy).
It could be
objected that this gets Parrington's view of meaning completely wrong. In fact,
it isn't easy to discern a clear or consistent view of meaning in his article.
For example, on the one hand he says:
"A related feature of inner speech that Voloshinov pointed to was that it is
more concerned with 'sense' rather than 'meaning'. In this definition,
meaning is the dictionary definition of a word, for instance cat: 'a furry
domestic quadruped'. Sense, on the other hand, refers to the whole set of
psychological events aroused by a word, such as the personal memories of your
own pet and its mannerisms, the feel of its fur and so on. It contains
activities, impressions and personal meanings, not just accepted social
definitions. A word acquires its sense from the context in which it appears; in
different contexts, it changes its sense." [Parrington
(1997), p.135. Bold emphasis added.]
Which sees
meaning (not "sense") as relatively fixed. On the other, he says the
following:
"Voloshinov's aim was an ambitious one.
He believed that a truly comprehensive theory of language should include in its
description all the factors outside words that affect their meaning.
Voloshinov pointed out that the only way that words can have meaning is through
being understood. But words are understood by particular speakers and
listeners, who are also speakers, in particular situations occurring in the real
world. Voloshinov argued that by conceiving words as if no one ever spoke them,
other linguists had missed a fundamental aspect of language, which is that 'the
speaker's focus of attention is orientated by the particular, concrete utterance
he is making...what is important to him is not that a word is a stable and
always self-equivalent signal, but an always changeable and adaptable sign'....
"Thus there is a gap between thought and words but words remain the only
possible way of expressing ourselves fully to others. Thought which remains
unexpressed remains immature and eventually dies out. Language, therefore, is
not just an expression of otherwise independent and fully formed thought, but
rather is a necessary form of the thought's realisation. In summary, inner
speech is the fluid interphase where meaning can start to be formed and shaped,
based on the emotional, practical and social experience of the individual.
However, this still leaves us with the question of the concrete mechanisms
whereby this process takes place." [Ibid.,
pp.126, 135-36. Bold emphases added.]
The above
plainly sees meaning as variable between speakers, and perhaps even
between occasions of use -- which certainly was
Voloshinov's view. Why say the following if meanings were somehow fixed?
"Voloshinov pointed out that the
only way that words can have meaning is through being understood. But
words are understood by particular speakers and listeners, who are also
speakers, in particular situations occurring in the real world....
In summary, inner speech is the fluid
interphase where meaning can start to be formed and shaped, based on the
emotional, practical and social experience of the individual." [Ibid. Bold
emphases added.]
In the
above, meaning isn't fixed publicly, but is established 'internally' and
individually, by means of "inner speech...where meaning can start to be formed
and shaped, based on the emotional, practical and social experience of the
individual". This is a view of language which would, of course, make
communication impossible.
This sits
rather awkwardly with the following comment of Voloshinov's:
"Meaning does not reside in the word or
in the soul of the speaker or in the soul of the listener. Meaning is the
effect of interaction between speaker and listener produced via the material of
a particular sound complex." [Voloshinov (1973) pp.102-03.
Italic
emphasis in the original.]
However, we
have also
seen
that Voloshinov himself is equivocal on this issue, since several other things
he says, and the above comments from Parrington, place both of them in the
traditional camp -- where meaning is a subjective feature of an individual's
"understanding", which is itself a private 'mental' act, dependent on
circumstances.
So, the
argument presented here doesn't constitute an obvious
misrepresentation of Parrington's views. Of course, it is entirely possible that
I have misconstrued what he wanted to say --, but then, he simply invites it!
78a.Some readers
might object here that there is no way to determine whether or not we all use
words the same way, or that we communicate successfully. The problem is, of
course, that the one advancing this objection will have to use words in the same
way as the rest of us or fail to make his/her point -- which, naturally,
wouldn't then be worth making.
It could be
countered that those advancing the above objection might be using just those
words (or just some words) the same way as the rest of us to make the
point that we do not use all our words the same way.
However, it
isn't essential for communication to work that we all use every single word
in exactly the same way (which position isn't being defended here, anyway --
for example, there is, what
Hilary
Putnam has called a "linguistic
division of labour" (this links to a PDF)) --, only that communication would
fail if we didn't use words in the same way, typically -- or, if there
were no way to resolve incidental confusions or failures in understanding.
Hence, this
(hypothetical) objector would now need to indicate which words he or she feels
are being used in different ways by the rest of us, all the while using other
words just as the rest of us do to make that point -- or fail to make it,
once more.
This
sceptical approach to word use can't be extended to cover the
usual employment of words -- and for the same reason --, otherwise the
objector will fail to communicate his/her point, again.
As we saw
earlier, if there
is a moral tale here, it is that it isn't possible to undermine the ordinary use
of language while trying to make sense, or trying to communicate with the rest
of us.
It might be
wondered whether we do in fact communicate successfully with one another.
However, anyone foolish enough to raise that point will have to withdrawn
it on pain of not having communicated it to the rest of us, if what they had
just alleged were itself correct.
It could be
objected that we might think we understand one another when we don't
actually manage to do so. Well, if I understand that objection correctly,
that would be sufficient to refute it. On the other hand, if I
don't, then there is nothing to answer. And the same two options face
anyone rash enough to question whether we typically understand one another, or
even whether we do so at all. So, if this hypothetical objector understands
these two options then their objection fails, too. Alternatively, if they
don't, then they haven't sufficiently thought through this problem, and they
should come back when they have.
Someone could now complain that the above response misses the point. The latter
concerned the alleged failure to communicate, not this:
X1: We only
think we communicate, but the fact is that we don't.
But, the
above response showed that the second half of X1 self-destructs. In that case,
the first half of X1 merely expresses a bare possibility without
presenting evidence or argument in its favour. So, my response didn't miss the
point.
Is there
anything that can be said for or against such a 'bare possibility'? If anyone
wants to defend it, they should send me
their best shot; I certainly won't do their work for them. Having said that it
is clear that this 'bare possibility' is on a par with the 'bare possibility'
that you, dear reader, are really an
aardvark.
If the possibility that we fail to communicate has been shown to self-destruct
then we can place a probability of zero on this 'bare possibility' being the
case, just as we can do the same with the possibility that you, dear reader, are
indeed an aardvark.
78b.
It could be argued that this
assumes what was to be proved, that we communicate successfully to begin with.
However, as pointed out in Note 78a, anyone who understands that
objection has automatically refuted it.
For example, Aitchison (1996), Chapter
Two, argues in favour of the 'self-refuting conclusion' -- ironically, hoping
to get her point across successfully, nonetheless!
79.
Is
this what passes for analysis outside of Analytic Philosophy these
days!?
80.
This was examined in detail
earlier in this
Essay.
80a.
On
ellipsis and
one-word sentences, see Stainton (2006a). [However, the reader mustn't assume
that I agree with everything in Stainton's book; the reverse is in fact the
case. I don't propose to pull on that particular thread here, though.]
81.
This idea is repeated in Sean Doherty's
recent article; cf., Doherty (2000),
pp.155-56.
82.
Holborow uses a slightly different spelling of Voloshinov's name in her book
(viz., "Volosinov"). The one found in this passage has
therefore been adapted to the conventions apparent in Parrington's article.
Incidentally, as noted earlier, and with respect to language, this would place
Voloshinov in the representational, not the social/communicational, camp:
"A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point of
view…." [Voloshinov (1973), p.10.]
Indeed, this appears to fetishise
signs: they "reflect and refract...reality". But, as
Wittgenstein noted, signs are as lifeless
as rocks and stones. Exactly how it is possible for one lifeless object to say
anything about other objects is, therefore, entirely mysterious. Attaching the
word "intentionality"
to signs (as many Philosophers attempt to do) is no help at all, since that
is just another lifeless 'sign'. On this, see Stroud (1991, 1996).
[See also
this parable.]
83.
The word "refraction"
rather gives the game away one feels, since refracted light is responsible for
changing or
misrepresenting shapes. [To be sure, not every refracting system
distorts, but then that is because corrections have had to be made.] On this,
see Note 84. Also see Hacking (1983).
84.
If there is nothing to "distort" then plainly none can have taken place
(in this respect).
It could be argued that Voloshinov
doesn't mean by his
R/R metaphor that things are distorted.
However, he removed all doubt when he said the following:
"A sign does not simply exist as a part of reality -- it reflects and refracts
another reality. Therefore it may distort that reality or be true to it, or
it may perceive it from a special point of view…." [Voloshinov (1973), p.10.
Bold emphasis added.]
Do
words really do this? If they do, how might we ever tell? Any attempt to
do so will have to use words! Which is an indirect way of saying that words
don't, or can't, ordinarily do this -- and that isn't just because words are
also part of the world, but because any attempt to state this alleged fact would
itself be a distortion!
Indeed, how
could anyone tell whether words were "true" to reality if everything were
ideological? In fact, in Voloshinov's system, there are only 'signs' confronting
other 'signs'. Given this theory, even direct
observation of the world aimed at checking the veracity of our 'signs' must also
be mediated by 'signs', so there is in fact no way we could compare our 'signs'
with an unmediated world to see which were and which weren't true to it!
Indeed,
for all we know, those pesky signs could be distorting our reading of
Voloshinov, too!
[The
idea that
everything social is ideological will be examined in Essay Three Part Four
(where views expressed in Lecercle (2006) will also be addressed).]
However, as
far as Marx is concerned, it is abstraction and the misuse (not the
use) of language that creates distortion:
"The philosophers have only to dissolve their language into the ordinary
language, from which it is abstracted, in order to recognise it, as the
distorted language of the actual world, and to realise that neither thoughts
nor language in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only
manifestations of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118. Bold emphases
added.]
No hint here
that
all words are 'ideological'.
It could be
argued that Voloshinov was committed to the view that words only sometimes
distort things:
"A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may
distort that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special
point of view…." [Voloshinov (1973), p.10. Bold emphasis added.]
However, how
anyone might discriminate among these suspicious 'signs' is left unclear. Which
signs are reliable and which aren't? Can we even trust the 'signs' in this
sentence: "Voloshinov is committed to the view that words only sometimes
distort things"? Perhaps they do this all the time. Maybe they never do it. [I
return to this issue in the main body of the Essay.]
This reminds
one of what Rorty had to say about those signs that do and those that don't
misrepresent 'reality':
"Pragmatic Wittgensteinians tend to be
historicist in their metaphilosophical views. They think that the problems of
pre-Kantian metaphysics, the problems that the naturalists [this is Rorty's term
for those who reject Wittgenstein's approach to philosophy -- RL] have revived,
are hangovers from a particular moment in Western intellectual history. These
problems originate not in a clash between common sense and science, but rather
between the immaterialist notions that Christian theology had inherited from
Plato and Aristotle and the mechanistic and materialist world-picture sketched
by Galileo and Newton. That clash was between metaphysical outlooks, not between
metaphysics and a pre-metaphysical understanding of things.
"This clash produced the Cartesian notion of ideas as appearances on the stage
of an inner theatre, as well as the Lockean account of words as signs of such
ideas. More generally, it produced a picture of knowledge as the attempt to
acquire accurate mental representations of non-mental reality.
Representationalist accounts of the relation between language and non-language
emerged from the attempt to divide language into assertions that represent real
things and those that do not. On this historicist view, Wittgenstein's
importance lies in his having helped wrench us out of our Cartesian-Lockean
mind-set." [Rorty (2010), p.132. Readers should also note the caveats concerning
Rorty's work I have posted
here.]
In short,
Voloshinov has backed himself into philosophical corner because of his unwise
acceptance of the dominant Cartesian
Paradigm.
84a.
I do not wish to enter into a
discussion of
ideology here; that will be postponed until Essay Three Part Four.
However, see Note 84, above.
85.
Many of the comments in this Note are tentative, at best. I may have
to revise them extensively.
This isn't to deny that signs (or
signals) might not be coded against words, so that when translated (or decoded)
they could be expressed in sentences, etc. But, even then it is the use of
language
that gives life to signs, not the other way round.
Nor is it to
deny that signs work in many different ways. For example, words can work as
signs, say, outside shops or on commodities. But, this no more means that words
are signs than the fact that paper money can be burnt means it is
fuel. Or, no more than the fact that a copy of theMorning Starcan be used to make a paper hat means that The Morning Star
is a paper hat.
However,
from the things Voloshinov says, it isn't at all clear that he means the same by
the word "sign" as we might do in English, or even in the way that Holborow
seems to understand it. Hence, in what follows, I will be using the word largely
as English speakers would normally understand it. [The pay-off here is that in
so doing I can expose a serious confusion lying at the heart of
Semiotics, where the use of this word is as ubiquitous as it is
problematic.]
Indeed,
there is considerable confusion among philosophers over the use of the
word "sign" (including Voloshinov himself, as we will soon see), where it
appears to mean anything that human beings might use, manufacture, draw or
co-opt in order to signify or mean something beyond the sign itself, ranging
from human artefacts to natural portents. [This appears to be the
semiotic
sense of this word, too.]
But,
this erodes the distinction we would normally want to
draw between signs and symbols, signs and pictures, and signs and natural
portents (as in, "Those clouds are a sign of rain", "Red spots are a sign of
measles"). The semiotic sense of this word also seems to hold that the function
of signs is to designate ('reflect', 'mean', 'refer to', 'indicate') something
'outside of itself' (i.e., acting as a
"signifier" of the "signified" -- to use the buzz-words --
eliding
the distinction between "signify" and "refer to", "signifier"/"sign" and "name",
"signified" and "object"), which, if this were true of words, would mean
that all words were (directly or indirectly) referential in some way,
which manifestly isn't the case. For example, what does "if" name or refer to
('outside' itself)? Or, "nothing"? [On that, see
below.]
In short,
Semiotics seems to be little other than a systematic capitulation to what has
come to be known as The
Augustinian Fallacy:
"These words [Wittgenstein is here
quoting Augustine -- RL], it seems to me, give a particular picture of the
essence of human language. It is this: the words in a language name objects --
sentences are combinations of such names. -- In this picture of language we find
the roots of the following idea: Every word has a meaning. This meaning is
correlated with the word. It is the object for which the word stands....
"It is important to note that it is a
solecism
to use the word 'meaning' to signify the thing that 'corresponds' to a word.
That is to confound the meaning of a name with the bearer of the name.
When Mr. N. N. dies, one says that the bearer of the name dies, not that the
meaning dies." [Wittgenstein
(2009), §1, p.5e, and §40, p.24e. (This links to a PDF.)
Italic emphasis in the original; Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions
adopted at this site.
Link added.]
Odd though
this might seem, and as I have pointed out here,
it is plausible to argue that Wittgenstein was prompted in this direction
(directly or indirectly) by Voloshinov himself:
"Meaning is a function of the sign and
is therefore inconceivable...outside the sign as some particular, independently
existing thing. It would be just as absurd to maintain such a notion as to take
the meaning of the word 'horse' to be this particular, live animal I am pointing
to. Why if that were so, then I could claim, for instance, that having eaten an
apple, I have consumed not an apple but the meaning of the word 'apple'."
[Voloshinov (1973), p.28.]
[On this,
also see Essay Twelve
Part One, where I
summarise Wittgenstein's objection to this way of picturing words. Cf., Baker
and Hacker (2005a), pp.43-91, and Baker and Hacker (2005b), pp.1-28. However,
the best article on this is Robinson (2003c).]
Someone
might object and claim that "nothing" is in fact the name
of the most abstract of all concepts -- following Hegel:
"Being, pure being,
without any
further determination. In its indeterminate immediacy it is equal only to
itself. It is also not unequal relatively to an other; it has no diversity
within itself nor any with a reference outwards. It would not be held fast in
its purity if it contained any determination or content which could be
distinguished in it or by which it could be distinguished from an other. It is
pure indeterminateness and emptiness. There is nothing to be intuited
in it, if one can speak here of intuiting; or, it is only this pure intuiting
itself. Just as little is anything to be thought in it, or it is equally only
this empty thinking. Being, the indeterminate immediate, is in fact nothing,
and neither more nor less than
nothing.
"Nothing, pure nothing:
it is simply equality with itself, complete emptiness,
absence of all determination and content -- undifferentiatedness in itself. In
so far as intuiting or thinking can be mentioned here, it counts as a
distinction whether something or nothing is intuited or thought. To
intuit or think nothing has, therefore, a meaning; both are distinguished and
thus nothing is (exists) in our intuiting or thinking; or rather it is
empty intuition and thought itself, and the same empty intuition or thought as
pure being. Nothing is, therefore, the same determination, or
rather absence of determination, and thus altogether the same as, pure being."
[Hegel
(1999), p.82.Italic emphases in the original.]
I will
examine this particular 'argument' in more detail in Essay Twelve Part Five, but
for present purposes it is worth pointing out that "nothing" appears to function
as the name of "being" -- or they both name the same 'entity', "complete
emptiness, absence of all determination and content". But, it can't be a name or
operate as a name (or name-like word), nor can it be what something is
(as Hegel seems to believe), nor does it refer to a lack or a
privation.
First of
all, it can't be the name of a
material object (or process) -- for obvious reasons (even
Parmenides saw
through that
one!) --, in which case, "nothing" can't have been derived by means of
reflection from, or reflection on or about, anything material, and thus from any
sort of abstraction from it.
[To be sure,
the above rather hastily drawn conclusion runs contrary to several attempts that
have been made to explain how 'Nothing' and 'Being' can be derived by a 'process
of abstraction'. Those 'attempts' will also be picked apart in Essay Twelve Part
Five.]
Secondly, if
"nothing" were a name (or even a "sign" for any one thing, or even a lack of
anything), then the following inferences would work. Compare the
legitimate deduction that employs names in H1-H3 with the inference
represented in H4-H6, which uses "nothing" as if it were a name.
H6: Therefore, something is bigger than
the universe.
[Remember,
H4 and H5 don't have to be true for the inference to be
valid! All that is required is that if the premises were true, the
conclusion would be true, too.]
H1-H3 works
because of the proper names it employs; H4-H6 fails because "something" and
"nothing" aren't names (nor do they refer to anything) -- otherwise, of
course, H4-H6 would have been a valid inference. "Something" and "nothing"
are
quantifiers.
[Anyone who
thinks differently will have to accept the validity H4-H6 (as well as H10-H12
and H13-H15, below), and hang the consequences.]
If we
'semiotify' H4-H6, we obtain the following:
H4a: Something is bigger than whatever
"nothing" signifies.
H5a: Whatever "nothing" signifies is
bigger than the universe.
H6a: Therefore, something is bigger than
the universe.
This shows
why "nothing" can't "signify" anything at all (in the semiotic sense) --
otherwise this would be a valid inference, too.
The same
'difficulties' occur if we try to treat "nobody" and "somebody" as names, or
even as "signifiers". Compare the following legitimate inference using names,
with the one following it, which uses "nobody" as if it were a name:
H7: NN lives on Tenth Avenue.
H8: NM lives with NN.
H9: Therefore, NM lives on Tenth
Avenue.
Compare the
above with the following:
H7a: NN lives on Tenth Avenue.
H8a: Nobody lives with NN.
H9a: Therefore, Nobody lives on Tenth
Avenue.
And with:
H10: Nobody lives on the Moon.
H11: Somebody lives with nobody.
H12: Therefore, somebody lives on the
moon.
Also compare
it with its 'semiotified' version:
H10a: Whatever "nobody" signifies lives
on the Moon.
H11a: Somebody lives with whatever
"nobody" signifies.
H12a: Therefore, somebody lives on the
moon.
H7-H9 is a
safe inference; the same can't be said of H10-H12 and H10a-H12a.
And neither
is the following:
H13: Nothing travels faster than light.
H14: Light travels faster than a
tortoise.
H15: Therefore, nothing travels faster
than a tortoise.
If words
were signs (or if they "signified" their "signifiers") then the mode of
signification of names (and other singular terms) would be the same as that of
quantifiers like "nothing" and "nobody" (that is,
they would both relate to whatever it was they "signified" in the same way --
there would thus be no difference in this respect between names and quantifiers),
and the above inferences would all be safe.
Nothing
can't express a lack or a privation, either, otherwise it would be operating as
a name of..., er, well, nothing, and we have just seen it can't even do
that!
H16:
Tony Cliff
left nothing out of his speech on the former USSR.
H17: The accused removed nothing from
his bag, which he then left in a locker.
H18: Your solution to that mathematical
puzzle was nothing short of amazing.
H19: The comrade from the floor added
nothing to the opening speech.
Are any of
these privations? If any of the above "signified" a lack or a privation,
then they would be no different from names.
Of course,
jokes about "nothing" and "nobody"
have been around for thousands of years -- in fact, at least since
Homer's day.
Indeed, what is apparently the first recorded joke in history runs along the
lines illustrated in the next quoted passage. The latter is part of a dialogue
found in
Homer's
Odyssey, where
Odysseus
tricks one of the
Cyclopes (Polyphemus)
into thinking his (i.e., Odysseus's) name is "Nobody". Here is Odysseus speaking
to the giant:
"'Nobody -- that's my name. Nobody -- so
my mother and father call me….' But he boomed back at me from his ruthless
heart, 'Nobody? I'll eat Nobody last of all his friends….'" [Homer
(2003) Book 9.410-9.413, p.223. The Internet version has "Noman" instead of
"Nobody". The translation I have used is also markedly different from the
on-line version.]
Later,
Polyphemus falls asleep, whereupon he is attacked and blinded by Odysseus. He
cries out to his fellow giants for help and they respond by asking who is
attacking him:
"'What, Polyphemus, what in the world's
the trouble…? Surely no one's trying to kill you by fraud or force!'
"'If you are alone,' his friends boomed back at once, 'and nobody's
trying to overpower you…it must be a plague sent here by mighty
Zeus….'
"They lumbered off, but laughter filled my heart to think that nobody's name --
my great cunning stroke -- had duped them one and all." [Ibid.,
Book
9.450-9.463, p.224.]
It seems,
therefore, that metaphysicians (like Hegel) are as easily fooled as one-eyed
giants.
This shows
that Homer was aware of the distinction between names and quantifiers nearly
three thousand years ago! He might not have been able to say precisely what that
distinction was, or even put this idea into a clear and coherent form. But, his
joke tells us he was aware that names and quantifiers don't work in the same
way. As Wittgenstein noted:
"The problems arising through a
misinterpretation of our forms of language have the character of depth.
They are deep disquietudes; their roots are as deep in us as are the forms of
our language and their significance is as great as the importance of our
language -- Let us ask ourselves: why do we feel a grammatical joke to be
deep? (And that is what the depth of philosophy is.)" [Wittgenstein (1958),
§111, p.47e. Italic emphasis in the original.]
Wittgenstein
is also reported to have said that a serious work on philosophy could be written
that consisted entirely of jokes. [On this, see Pitcher (1978), p.317. In fact,
Pitcher's article is an attempt to do just that.]
More modern
versions of the same sort of joke include the following:
J3: Union militant: "Management are
ruthless. They'll stop at nothing."
J4: Union Bureaucrat: "In that case,
we'll do nothing!"
If J4 were
to be read in a
dialectical sort of way, it might provide Trade Union Leaders with an
excellent extra argument for official inertia, which would only work
on the rest of us if we were naïve enough to believe "nothing" is indeed a name.
African
Stereotype:
"I suggest we do nothing.... If we do nothing, perhaps he'll stop at it."
Update 20/01/2018: Since the above was first written a video of this
'comedy' has been posted on DailyMotion. This clearly isn't one of
John Cleese's
finest moments; it is in places definitely guilty of crude racial stereotyping
and the sort of 'soft racism' that was deemed 'acceptable' in the 1970s. The
comedy itself is rather poor, too:
Video Eight: The Strange Death
Of..., Nothing
A few years
ago,
Mark Steel
and Pat Stack both published examples of this age-old gag:
"Most economists agree that loans should only be advanced if Russia accepts
'austerity measures'. But thousands of workers have gone six months without
being paid. How do you get more austere than that? Will
Yeltsin
address the nation thus: 'There are some miners earning as much as nothing. To
you I say this, you're pricing yourselves out of a job. For too long you have
insisted on getting nothing for something. The country can no longer afford
it.'" [Mark Steel in The Guardian, 02/09/1998.]
"'Four thousand two hundred and seven,
that's the exact number,' the King said, referring to his book. 'I couldn't send
all the horses, you know, because two of them are wanted in the game. And I
haven't sent the two Messengers, either. They're both gone to the town. Just
look along the road, and tell me if you can see either of them.'
"'I see nobody on the road,' said Alice.
"'I only wish I had such eyes,' the King
remarked in a fretful tone. 'To be able to see Nobody! And at that distance,
too! Why, it's as much as I can do to see real people, by this light!'....
"At this moment the Messenger arrived:
he was far too much out of breath to say a word, and could only wave his hands
about, and make the most fearful faces at the poor King....
"'Who did you pass on the road?' the
King went on, holding out his hand to the Messenger for some more hay.
"'Nobody,' said the Messenger.
"'Quite right,' said the King: 'this
young lady saw him too. So of course Nobody walks slower than you.'
"'I do my best,' the Messenger said in a
sulky tone. 'I'm sure nobody walks much faster than I do!'
"'He can't do that,' said the King, 'or else he'd have been here first. However,
now you've got your breath, you may tell us what's happened in the town.'" [Alice
Through the Looking Glass, quoted from
here.]
[There are several more examples like
this in Pitcher
(1978).
See also,
here.]
Again,
such jokes only work if "nothing" and "nobody" are viewed as names, or as parts
of simple predicate expressions. However, the
logical
role of words like "nothing" and "something" is far more complex.
[On quantifiers, see Dummett (1981a), pp.8-33, Haack (1978),
pp.39-55, Westerathåhl
(2001),
and Peters and Westerathåhl (2008).
More on this in Essay Twelve Part Five (when it is published).]
Nevertheless, it is unclear in which
sense Parrington and Holborow intended to use the word "sign" -- in an ordinary
or in a semiotic sense. Indeed, Voloshinov's own attempt to define his use of
this word leaves much to be desired:
"Any ideological product is not only itself a part
of reality (natural or social), just as is any physical body, any instrument of
production, or any product of consumption, it also, in contradistinction to
these other phenomena, reflects and refracts another reality outside itself.
Everything ideological possesses meaning: it represents, depicts or
stands for something lying outside itself. In other words it is a sign.
Without signs there is no ideology. A physical body equals itself, so to
speak; it does not signify anything but wholly coincides with its particular,
given nature. In this case there is no question of ideology.
"However, any physical body may be perceived as an
image; for instance, the image of natural inertia and necessity embodied in that
particular thing. Any artistic-symbolic image to which a particular physical
object gives rise is already an ideological product. The physical object is
converted into a sign. Without ceasing to be a part of material reality, such an
object, to some degree, reflects and refracts another reality." [Voloshinov
(1973), p.9. Italic emphases in the original.]
Unfortunately, Voloshinov neglected to say what "image" we have of nothing,
or how the word or 'sign', "nothing", can "reflect" or "refract" anything at
all. Indeed, if it reflects nothing, it isn't doing its job properly, since
signs are supposed to reflect something, not nothing. On the other hand, if it
reflects something, then it must have reflected the wrong target: something
rather than nothing!
[Astute readers will no doubt have noticed that this piece of sophistry only
works if we again treat "nothing" as a name of, or as a 'sign' for, something.
Imagine trying to clear up this particular confusion with yet more signs! But,
with words it is relatively easy.]
Voloshinov then gives several other examples of objects that can and have been
turned into 'signs', ranging from religious artefacts to political emblems and
consumables. He adds:
"Thus, side by side with the natural phenomena, with
the equipment of technology, and with articles for consumption, there exists a
special world -- the world of signs.
"Signs are particular, material things; and, as we
have seen, any item of nature, technology, or consumption can become a sign,
acquiring in the process a meaning that goes beyond its particularity. A sign does not simply exist as a part
of reality -- it reflects and refracts another reality. Therefore it may distort
that reality or be true to it, or it may perceive it from a special point of
view. Every sign is subject to the criteria of ideological evaluation (i.e.,
whether it is true, false, correct, fair, good, etc.). The domain of ideology
coincides with the domain of signs. They equate with one another. Wherever a
sign is present, ideology is present, too. Everything ideological possesses
semiotic value." [Ibid., p.10. Italic emphases in the original.]
So, it looks
like Voloshinov is employing a
semiotic interpretation of 'signs' after all (maybe one he derived from
C S Pierce).
[Merrell (2001).] So, for him a 'sign' can be anything that is used to represent
something else -- even though Voloshinov adds that 'signs' can
"reflect"/"refract" [or R/R] reality, too. [More will be said
about this in Essay Twelve and in a later re-write of this Essay where I will
consider Lecercle's commentary on Voloshinov (i.e., in Lecercle (2006)).]
However, as
noted above, it is also apparent that the 'semiotic' sense of this word is
itself based on the 'Augustinian Fallacy',
exposed by Wittgenstein
-- that is, the idea that all words 'stand for' something, and operate as Proper
Names or other singular terms. [On this, see Glock (1996), pp.41-45, Baker and
Hacker (2005a), pp.1-28, Baker and Hacker (2005b), pp.43-93, and
Ryle (1949b)
(this links to a PDF). However, these should be read in conjunction with
Carruthers (1984). See also
these comments, below.]
Now, there
seems to be nothing inherently wrong with labelling words 'signs', but
the temptation is always there to regard them as signs in the ordinary
(but now
fetishised) sense that,
(i) Their
meaning lies on their face (since they now tell
us what they mean -- implying they are the agents while we are the
patients); and,
(ii) Their
meaning is
what they stand for, transforming them into Proper Names or other
singular terms.
From what we
have seen,
anddespite what they might say, Voloshinov and those that take their lead
from him appear to have fallen into both traps.
In what
follows, I focus on the use of "sign" when it is used semiotically
and when it is used more colloquially to refer to road signs, shop signs,
etc.
Here are
several of the reasons why words aren't
signs
per se
-- in the sense just indicated:
(1) Clauses
can be negated, signs can't, nor can a collection of signs.
[This idea
is connected with an important insight in Wittgenstein's Tractatus [i.e.,
Wittgenstein (1972)] that logical words can't stand for anything (they
don't picture anything), they simply enable the articulation of expressions that
can picture a possible state of affairs. More on that in White (2006),
Palmer (2011) and McGuinness (1974). That insight motivates much of the
discussion here,
here and
here. The reader is directed
there for more details.]
To be sure,
signs can be crossed out, torn up, ignored, flouted, painted over, destroyed,
obliterated, even disobeyed -- but not negated. But, can't someone do the
opposite of what a sign says, thus negating it? For example, couldn't someone
move their car into a space in a road that has "Keep Clear" painted on it? They
certainly can, but the sign still says "Keep Clear"; the sign itself
hasn't been negated. [Signs that have the negative particle emblazoned on them
will be considered presently.]
A sign can
be employed as a negative particle (as can be seen from sign languages),
but here it is the use of a sign that serves in this role. The content
of a series of signs can, of course, be negated -- but only if it has been
put in a propositional or other sentential context, etc.; but a sign itself
can't. Once more, a sign can represent 'negatives' (as in a "No parking", "No
Entry" or "No U-turn" sign, if these are
conventional wordless signs, not those that might also be emblazoned with
their own translation into language), but that is done my means of yet
another sign, not the negation of an earlier one. [On that, see
here.]
However, even here, the negative particle is part of language, and so depends on
language. In that case, the use of language will explain the sign, not the other
way round. [I return to this below,
where I examine examples of falsehoods supposedly represented by signs.]
Admittedly,
Highway Agencies employ special "No Entry" and "No U-turn" signs, which can have
something written or printed on them that has been crossed out. But, short of
that being part of a special code (or even a
rebus),
crossing out isn't negation. Negation typically turns truths into
falsehoods, or vice versa. Crossing a sentence out doesn't do this, it
merely removes it from the field. [Naturally, there could be a rule that
stipulates that crossing an indicative sentence out negates that sentence, but
in such circumstances, it is the rule, not the crossing out that achieves
this, and rules aren't the sort of things that can be true or false.] Crossing a
sign out might very well turn it into another sign; it wouldn't automatically
remove it from play. Hence, a crossed out picture of a cigarette is still a sign
that smoking is banned in the vicinity, not that another sign has been negated,
banned or decommissioned.
Admittedly,
signs can be crossed out
if they are no longer in use, but that would be apparent from the make-shift
nature of the crossing out; in which case, that crossing out won't be part of
the sign in the sense that this is:
Figure Eleven: No Smoking Sign
The
impromptu sort of crossing out mentioned above will in fact amount to
another sign being imposed on the original sign, removing it from the field,
as it were.
Which is why
this was asserted above:
Crossing a sign out might turn it into
another sign; it wouldn't automatically remove it from play. Hence, a
crossed out picture of a cigarette is still a sign that smoking is banned in the
vicinity, not that another sign has been negated, banned or decommissioned.
Note the use
of "automatically". This is a different sort of crossing out.
Furthermore,
the double negation of a sentence reinstates its original status -- as in "It's
not not raining". The double tearing up or crossing out of a sign certainly does
not restore the original; it just creates smaller pieces, more confusion, or
perhaps a greater mess.
Moreover,
quantified clauses and sentences can be internally or externally negated. For
example, "It is not the case that everyone is a member of the
CWI" does not mean the same as "Everyone is not a member of the CWI". The
first simply means that there are some (perhaps many) who do not belong to the
CWI; the second means that no one does. This flexibility doesn't exist
with signs (unless, once more, they are part of a code of some sort and can
be translated into, and are thus parasitic upon, certain already fixed/settled
words or sentences). Or, to put this another way, signs can't
represent 'negative situations': e.g., that it is not Friday. We may
infer such things from signs, but that is what we, as language users, bring
to
them. As Jerry Fodor notes (if we ignore for the moment his reference to 'the
mind', and note his use of "symbol" in place of "sign"):
"[I]f the mind is in the
inference-drawing line of work, there must be symbols in which it formulates its
premises and conclusions; there are no inferences without a medium (or media) in
which to couch them. That matters because you can't say just anything you like
in whatever kind of symbols you choose. Pictures can't express negative or
contingent propositions -- [such as] it's not raining, or if it's raining that
will spoil the picnic. But negative and conditional thoughts play a central role
in the kinds of inference that minds routinely carry out. ([For example] it's
certainly not Queen Victoria; if it's certainly not Queen Victoria, then perhaps
it's Dr Livingstone. So perhaps it's Dr Livingstone.) Such considerations
suggest, at a minimum, that the mind doesn't do all its thinking in pictures."
[Fodor (2003), p.16, paragraph 6.]
(2) Word
order affects meaning: "Red flag" means one thing, but "Flag red" means
something else. The change of word order here turns a noun into a verb. You can
swap signs around all day long and this won't happen -- unless, once more, they
are part of a pre-arranged code,
picture
puzzle or
picture code (all of which, of course, depend on language).
Hence,
language use is largely governed by grammatical (i.e., socially-sanctioned)
rules that enable the articulation of words into clauses or sentences, any
change to which will alter the sense of what is, has been, or could be said by
means of them. So (to use Chomsky's example), the phrase "Pretty little girl's
school" can be read in many different ways, depending on how it is parsed. But,
signs are not parsed into grammatical categories (except, again, as part of a
code, and, once more, codes depend on language, not the other way round), nor
are there similar rules for their employment (except in restricted areas of use,
like those dictated by Highway Authorities, for instance).
It could be
argued that a sign for red followed by a sign for a flag will convey a different
message from an arrangement where they are reversed, so that a flag sign is
followed by a red sign. But, this difference is based on translating those signs
into words. It won't work the other way round. For instance, without the use of
any words to interpret it, how would a flag sign indicate that it was a verb
when it appears first, as opposed to a noun when it is used second? Words
typically function differently when they are nouns and when they are verbs, but
if they were merely signs, that wouldn't happen (and for the above
reason).
[If we
absolutely have to call words anything (but why isn't the word "word" good
enough?) we could call written words inscriptions (indeed, as I have done
so in many places at this site), or call spoken words vocalisations. This
would at least obviate many of the problems associated with "sign" outlined in
this section.]
The
articulation of words permits, for example, the
formation of indicative sentences; this enables the latter to be
understood before their truth-values
are known. In this way, speakers can converse about falsehoods,
possibilities, events and objectsthat aren't in their
immediate vicinity, or which might even have ceased to exist -- or, maybe,
which might one day start to exist. These could even involve remote regions of
space and time, non-existent objects, or fictional characters and situations.
Signs can't do this (unless, once more, they are part of a code, and hence
depend on language, again). A road sign (in the UK) with a black diagonal band
on a white background (conventionally) signals only what is on its face (or,
rather, we take it to signal this), which might be something like
"Maximum speed limit 60/70 mph", in the immediate surroundings, or between that
sign and other speed signs.
Figure Twelve:
UK 'Max Speed 60 Mph' (On Most Roads) Sign
On a waste
tip, hospital corridor, or in a living room, the same sign would be useless.
Such signs are therefore location-sensitive; not so with language,
per se. [I have dealt with context-dependencyelsewhere in this Essay.]
Moreover,
without the use of linguistic expressions (in or on a sign), falsehoods can't be
depicted, as, indeed, Fodor noted.
It could be
objected to this that certain paintings manage to represent falsehoods: think of
Surrealist
and
Dadaist works
(like those pained by
Magritte,
for example).
First of
all, only indicative sentences/clauses are capable of being true or false. [Note
the use of "only" here as opposed to "all".] Second, quite apart from the fact
that paintings aren't signs either, the interpretation of a work of art is no
more a given than is anything else. Even Magritte's famous painting of a pipe
relies on a use of the French words "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" ["This
isn't a pipe."] to state what many take to be a falsehood.
Figure Thirteen: Magritte's Play On
Words
However,
this could of course be seen as a truth since a picture of a pipe is manifestly
not a pipe! [Even that assumes that these words refer to the pipe and not to
the words themselves.] Nevertheless, this picture still has to use words
arranged in an indicative sentence to achieve its aim.
If a
painting is to be taken to represent a falsehood, that falsehood would have to
be expressed by an indicative sentence which gives voice to an
appropriate interpretation (of that picture) with a negatable content, or it
wouldn't be a falsehood (given what that word means). One could not, for
example, imagine another
sign (as opposed to another sentence) interpreting the meaning of a work of
art. But, that would be possible if words were signs.
But, what
about a picture of, say,
Sherlock
Holmes, or a sign that featured this fictional character?
Figure Fourteen: Holmes On The Case?
Once more,
as with pictures, such signs have to be interpreted. So, a sign with Holmes on
it could mean anything from "Conan
Doyle lived in this building" to "Shop here for detective novels." If such a
picture or sign is to mean anything in particular, then it will have to
be
conventionally associated with
whatever that sentence or object happened to be. [I am using "mean" itself
rather loosely here to mean(!) "allude to", "express", or even "refer to".] In
which case, the sign would stand for that specific object or sentence, and no
other. So, and once more, such a sign would only work because of a
pre-existing language in which it could be interpreted or decoded -- as
the case may be -- but not the other way round. If so, such signs and pictures
can't account for language, they are parasitic upon it.
It could be
argued that words also have to be interpreted. Maybe so, but this can't be so
with all words, or the word "interpreted" would suffer a rather
unenviable fate (i.e., it would be locked into a vicious circle). Anyway, even
assuming this were the case, any further interpretation of a word or set of
words would have to be expressed by the use of
yet more words. So, once again, a pre-existing language is indispensable,
even here.
Again, it could be argued that falsehoods can in fact be depicted in or by
signs. Hence, one could imagine a road sign pointing in the wrong direction, a
"Closed" sign hung on the door of a shop that is still open, an "Out-of-order"
sign attached to the door of a working lift, and so on. But, with respect to the
last two examples, the falsehoods (if such they be) will be expressed by
certain words written on each sign. Without these the signs
wouldn't be able to state any falsehoods. Clearly, in the second case,
"Out-of-work" would be
elliptical
for "This lift is out of order"; similarly with the "Closed" sign, which stands
for "This shop is closed/isn't open". [Once more, we see that indicative
sentences are implied here, too.]
As far as
the road sign is concerned, its status would depend on whether or not there were
any words written or printed on it. Hence, if a sign saying "Exeter 20 miles"
was pointing in the wrong direction, or if Exeter were really 25 miles away,
this falsehood would plainly be language dependent, too. In that case, we
would be interpreting these words as "Exeter is 20 miles in this direction"
(etc.) -- again, using yet another indicative sentence. Of course, such signs
are
indexical, that is they contain an implicitly indexical term. For
example, "Exeter 20 miles" is in effect short for "Exeter is 20 miles from
here". In that case, they resemble type sentences, such as "Cash
today, cheques tomorrow" (which is an example that
Peter Geach
used to employ). In that case, their import once more depends of a sophisticated
use of language, which can't be represented by further signs that aren't
already symbols.
[Recall that
the point being made here isn't that signs can't 'say' things but that whatever
they do express will be dependent on a pre-existing language or on
linguistic conventions, not the other way round.]
It could be
objected that if a "Max Speed 60 mph" sign (in the UK, this is a circular sign
with a black diagonal band on a white background when placed on single
carriageway roads, "70 mph" on dual carriageway roads -- see
Figure Four, above) was either
accidentally or intentionally placed outside a village school (where the sign
should have been "20 mph"),
then, even though it had no words on it, that sign would be false.
But, such a
sign expresses a command or
instruction so it can't be false, since, plainly, no command or
instruction is capable of being either true or false, only practical or
impractical, useful or useless, obeyed or disobeyed, etc.Anyway, a sign
like this outside a school, say, would cause consternation since it indicates
that the speed limit is 70 mph (on a dual carriageway, 60 mph otherwise). If
this were a mistake, the sign wouldn't be false (let alone would it have been
negated), just incorrectly located. And we could say that with some
confidence because the sign still indicates that the speed limit is 60/70 mph,
which is how anyone who knew road traffic law would be able to tell it had been
incorrectly located.
Finally, if
such a sign could be false, then it could also be true. But, given UK
law, it can't be true.
Figure Fifteen: UK 'No Entry' Sign
Of course,
there is nothing in the above to indicate that the present author thinks that
signs can't be incorrect (think of a "No Entry" sign (in the UK this is a white
oblong on a red background; see
Figure Twelve) placed at the entry to
a road -- but, even then, as with the speed sign we met earlier, it might simply
have been mis-located), but these would only state falsehoods when
translated into indicative sentences, or, because they can be so
translated. In such cases, as already noted, signs like this are a conventional
shorthand for a particular sentence or phrase (and they are such because of the
standardised interpretation we have been instructed, or socialised, to apply
to them or read
from them -- perhaps as depicted in a Road Manual or Highway Code).
Hence, and once again, such signs would only work because of a pre-existing
language, and so can't account for language.
The idea
that words are signs is perhaps further motivated by (a) the fact that signs
sometimes contain words, phrases or clauses (which, of course,
can be negated), or (b) the fact that they can have negated sentences, or
sentence fragments painted, printed or written on them -- as in "No to student
loans!", or "Don't Attack Iraq!"
Figure
Sixteen: A Sign Bush And Blair
Recklessly Ignored
But, not all
signs contain words -- and here the distinction between words and signs
is clear.
Indeed, if
words were signs (in the ordinary sense) they would
fail to work, except they had other words printed on them --, unless, once
more, they expressed a conventionalised shorthand for a particular sentence.
Of course, a
sign with nothing on it could be a sign of something quite incidental (for
example, that the printer had run out of ink, or the designer of ideas), but
words with nothing written on them still manage to communicate -- but what they
communicate isn't something over and above what they mean (saving complications
introduced by conversational or representational
implicatures
and prosody,
noted earlier, and rehearsed again, below).
For example,
sentences like the following:
S1: My other car is a Porsche,
usually mean
(i.e.,
linguistic meaning) what they say, but they could just as well mean
(i.e., speaker's meaning, or by
conversational or coded implication) that the owner of a
particular car is actually ashamed of the car he/she owns and is lamenting that
fact.
Figure
Seventeen: Poseur -- Or Porsche
Owner?
Alternatively, it could be a sign that the driver is, say, a spy (if S1 were
code for another sentence/message), or, and far more likely, that he/she is just
a poseur (etc.). Even so, the content of whatever is communicated over
and above what the words themselves actually say will still be linguistically
motivated, and that can't be occasion-sensitive or meaning would be forever
indeterminate --
as we have seen. Indeed, if that were so, we wouldn't be able to grasp
the content of any sentence that asserted even that
hypothetical shortcoming! [On that, see
Note 15.]
Signs are
objects in their own right. Hence, it is worth asking: If words are signs, how
is it possible for one object to say anything about another object?
Voloshinov seems to think signs (which are objects of a certain sort --, or
any sort, for him) can easily do this, as we have seen (but, surely, that
would be to
fetishise them). Of course, signs only
depict whatever they do because of conventions we set up for them, in use. [But,
this has already been covered, above and in
Note 23.]
It could be
objected that signs differ from naturally occurring objects in that they are
human inventions, or artefacts, that work in a different way -- perhaps, to
reflect reality and to "depict or stand for something outside of itself". But,
even then it would be the use
of a sign that gives it its meaning. [Again, on this, see Note
23.]
However,
even supposing Voloshinov meant by "sign" something semiotic, as opposed to its
more ordinary sense, that wouldn't help, since no sign (natural, semiotic,
man/woman-made, picture, artefact, etc.) can determine a rule. It is our
rule-governed use of certain symbols that brings life to language. [Note
23, once more!] To suppose otherwise would be to fetishise signs (again,
as noted
earlier).
Even more
importantly, a collection of signs (semiotic, natural or conventional), no
matter how they were arranged -- if they all 'signify' the 'signified' -- would
simply become a list, and lists say nothing.
[On that, see
here.]
86.
Unfortunately, Holborow, Parrington and Doherty appear not to have consulted
any work in the Philosophy of Language written in the last 100 years -- or
perhaps
ever! Their references and bibliographies suggest that they haven't checked
the work of a single
Philosopher of Language (that is, save the work of Linguists and Psychologists
who have dabbled in a little amateur 'philosophising'), or at least not one that
was written this century (other than Voloshinov, etc.). This is a pity since it
means they have repeated many of the errors committed by previous generations of
theorists. It seems that, like those ignorant of history, those ignorant of the
History of the Philosophy of Language are, alas, condemned to repeat past
indiscretions. [Indeed, condemned to resurrect theories of language little
different from touted by those classic bourgeois individualists, Hobbes,
Locke, Descartes and Hume.]
The same
could be said of Collins, but maybe less so of McNally. Both confine their
attention largely to work written by other Marxist authors or fellow travellers
-- Vygotsky, Voloshinov, the Bakhtin circle, and Gramsci --, but neither of them
quote or reference any work done by Analytic Philosophers over the last hundred
and thirty odd years.
As noted,
this is less true of McNally; he gave an intelligent talk at Marxism 1990
(an annual gathering of the UK-SWP) about Analytic Philosophy. Unfortunately,
McNally largely ignored the Frege-Wittgenstein tradition in the Philosophy of
Language, something a supporter of this site had to point out to him at the
time. Although he acknowledged this omission in his reply, he seems not to have
incorporated any of its insights (concerning the nature of language and thought)
in his subsequent work -- McNally (1995, 2001, 2004). In fact, just like the
comrades mentioned above, the many confusions that litter McNally's thinking (in
this area) are perhaps a direct result of this omission.
[I will say more about the above in a
later re-write of this Essay.]
In
contradistinction to the above, Lecercle shows he is at least aware of
Austin's
work, as well as that of
Tarski,
Grice,
Searle,
and Wittgenstein, along with several other Analytic Philosophers. Having said
that, his book shows precious little sign he has learnt much from them, or is in
any way ready, or qualified, to engage with them. However, and as if to compound
the problem, he appears to have ignored totally the work of
Frege,
Russell,
Quine,
Carnap,
Davidson,
Ryle,
Strawson,
Geach,
Anscombe,
Kripke,
Lewis,
Donellan,
and
Dummett, to name but a few Analytic Philosophers of Language. Indeed, one of
the main problems with Lecercle's work is that he devotes far too much space to
Stalin's ideas -- yes, that expert, Stalin -- about language. In
fact,
one paragraph devoted to Stalin would have been too much. As if to
compound this further, Lecercle is largely uncritical of Voloshinov's vague and
confused ideas.
[I will
say more about this, too, in a future re-write of this Essay.]
It could be
objected that Marxist authors are quite right to concentrate solely on
what other Marxists have said about language, ignoring the work of assorted
bourgeois theorists.
In response,
it is worth making the following four points:
(1) Not
one of the above Marxists would argue this way about the thoroughly
bourgeois Philosopher, Hegel. [The usual reply -- that Hegel was writing at a
time when the bourgeoisie were the revolutionary class -- has been neutralised,
here.]
Nor, indeed, about assorted Continental Philosophers, like those mentioned
here.
(2) As
pointed out in Essay Twelve Part One, and as underlined throughout this Essay,
while Marxist theorists have acknowledged the social nature of language and
thought, all they have succeeded in doing (in their work) is undermine this
fundamental Marxist insight, just as they have ignored Marx's own abandonment
of Philosophy (since, among other things, he thought it based on a
distortion of ordinary language, and amounted to little more than religion
rendered into theory ). [On that, see
here.]
(3) The
Frege-Wittgenstein tradition in Analytic Philosophy manages to do the opposite
-- it underlines and defends a commitment to the social nature of
language and thought. That alone should recommend it to Marxists -- even
though it won't, since its seems that the majority are hide-bound by
their traditional
approach to Philosophy.
(4) Most of
the above comrades underline the links between "theory", language, practice,
working class struggle and working class culture (howsoever the latter is
characterised), but not oneof them considers how working
people
actually use language, or how it is used in everyday life. If they
were to do that, every single doctrine they have inherited from Traditional
Thought (and more specifically from Hegel)
would be rejected outright as incoherent non-sense. That can't be said of
the Wittgensteinian method employed in these Essays.
Despite countless knee-jerk and -- one
is almost tempted to say -- disingenuous references to "practice"
regularly intoned by DM-aficionados (particularly those belonging to the
HCD-tendency),
these individuals regularly adopt theories that they would never be able to sell
to workers in practice, theories they themselves would find impossible to
translate into action, and which would spell disaster if anyone even
attempted to apply them in the class war. [Not that this comment, or even
those untoward prospects, will slow them down by so much as one millimetre per
second. As my old Professor of Logic used to say, their heads are too "full
of noise".] It is precisely here, in practice, that nostrums like these
become all the more obviously crazy -- that is, should anyone be foolish
enough to try them out on workers, or test them in everyday life.
~~~~~~oOo~~~~~~
On the distinction between meaning in language and
'speaker's meaning', and the difference between signs and words (both of
which Parrington, Holborow and McNally -- following Lenin -- equate
without any attempt at justification), see Harrison (1972, 1979), Lycan
(2008), and Platts (1997). See also Bickerton (2009).
In addition
to the above, there are now many general introductory philosophical accounts of
language and edited collections of papers (modern classics and recent reviews),
which manage to avoid the mistakes that Voloshinov and other comrades commit,
among which are the following: Black (1968), Blackburn (1984),
Garcia-Carpíntero and Kölbel (2014),
Hacking (1975), Hale and Wright (1999),
Lepore and Smith (2008), Linsky (1977), Mackenzie (1997), Martin (1987), Miller
(1998), Morris (2007), Russell and Fara (2012), Stainton (1996), Taylor (1998).
More sophisticated accounts can be found in Grice (1989), Hanna and Harrison
(2004), Horn (1989/2001), and Horwich (1998, 2005). Of course, these days there
is a surfeit of on-line material of varying quality -- see, for example,
here,
here,
here
(the latter links to a PDF), and especially
here.
[See also these
links.] Easily the best on-line resource is the Stanford
Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
Stephen Schiffer,
a former 'high priest' of the idea that meaning depends on, or revolves around,
intentions (etc.) has recently recanted and authored a book explaining why that
approach to language can't work; cf., Schiffer (1987). [Although he has now
backtracked somewhat in Schiffer (2003). It would be good to know when he
intends to make his mind up.] There is a useful bibliography of modern work
in this area in Preston (1997), pp.237-43. Background details can be found in
Martinich and Sosa (2005), and Passmore (1966).
Accounts of language
written from a Wittgensteinian, or quasi-Wittgensteinian perspective can be
found in many of the books and articles listed
below. To these may be added the following: Baker (1988), Baker and Hacker
(1984a, 1988, 2005a), Bloor (1997), Bogen (1972),
Candlish and Wrisley (2019), Canfield (1981, 1994, 1996), Canfield and
Shanker (1993), Cavell (1996), Charles and Child (2001), Cook (1980, 1982),
Crary and Read (2000), Diamond (1995, 1997), Egidi (1995), Fann (1978), Fogelin
(1987), Glock (1996, 2001, 2009), Hallett (1967, 1977, 1984, 1988, 1991, 2008),
Hanfling (1989, 2000, 2002a), Hanna and Harrison (2004), Kennick (1972), Kenny
(1998, 2006a), Kripke (1982), Kusch (2006), Malcolm (1995a), Niles (1992),
Palmer (1988), Pitcher (1968), Rhees (1970b, 1999), Savickey (1999), Shanker
(1986a, 1986b), Sluga and Stern (1996), Stroud (2000a), Vesey (1974), Waismann
(1997), Wittgenstein (1958/2009,
1969, 1972, 1974a, 1975, 1979, 1980d, 1981), and White (1974, 2006), as well as
several articles in Kuusela and McGinn (2011).
I do not
propose to enter into a discussion here of Wittgenstein's controversial claim
that Psychology is "conceptually confused" (but, see below), nor with the view
that much of what passes for contemporary Philosophical Psychology and
'Philosophy of Mind', is almost as muddled as Locke and Descartes's writings; on
this, see Fischer (2011a, 2011b). [Nevertheless, two relatively recent popular
accounts of certain aspects of contemporary work in this area inadvertently
confirm that his negative assessment isn't all that wide of the mark: cf.,
Horgan (1996, 1999); many more examples can be found in Bennett and Hacker
(2008, 2022).] On this in general, see also Bennett, et al (2007),
Candlish (2002), and Fischer (2011a, 2011b). [This links to a PDF.]
A history of
the
traditional approach to 'Mind' and 'Consciousness' (an ideology
appropriated by dialecticians, too) can be found in Bennett and Hacker (2008,
2022), Hacker (2003a, 2007,
2012, 2013a, 2013b), Chapter Eight of Robinson (2008),
Rorty (1980), pp.17-69, and
Ryle (1949a), pp.13-25. [These link to PDFs. See also,
here.]
"The confusion and barrenness of psychology is not to be explained by calling it
a 'young science'; its state is not comparable with that of physics, for
instance, in its beginnings. (Rather with that of certain branches of
mathematics.
Set theory.)
For in psychology there are experimental methods and conceptual confusion.
(As in the other case conceptual confusion and methods of proof.)" [Wittgenstein
(1958), §xiv, p.232e.]
Naturally,
that is a controversial enough pronouncement on its own (on this, see
Hacker (2007c)). However, and in addition to the works listed above,
extensive critical examination of the perennial confusions found in both
Psychology and the 'Philosophy of Mind' (which includes much of what Voloshinov,
Parrington, Holborow, Collins and McNally have written on this topic) appear in
the following: Anscombe (2000), Arrington (2001), Baker and Hacker (1983a,
1983b, 1984, 2005a), Bennett and Hacker (2008, 2022), Budd (1989), Button, et
al (1995), Canfield (1994), Coulter (1983, 1989, 1993, 1997), Coulter and
Sharrock (2007), Dreyfus (1992), Erneling (1993), Glock (1996), Goldberg (1968,
1991), Goldstein (1999), Hacker (1987, 1991, 1993a, 1993b, 1993c, 1993d, 1993e,
1993f, 1993g, 1996, 1997, 2000b, 2000c, 2001b, 2002, 2007a, 2007c,
2012,
2013a, 2013b), Hanfling (2001a, 2001b, 2002b), Hark (1990, 1995), Heil (1981),
Hilmy (1987), Hursthouse (2000), Hutto (1995), Hyman (1989, 1991, 2006), Kenny
(1973a, 1975,
1984b, 1984c, 1992,
1993, 2003, 2006a, 2009), Malcolm (1968, 1977a, 1977b, 1980, 1984, 1986b, 1986c,
1995b, 1995c), Proudfoot (1997), Ryle (1949a,
1960, 1971a, 1971b, 1982a) (this links to a PDF), Schroeder (2001a), Schulte
(1993), Shanker (1986c, 1987a, 1987b, 1987c, 1988, 1995, 1996b, 1997, 1998),
Stern (1995), Stroud (1990, 1991, 1996), Suter (1989), Taylor (1964), Vesey
(1994), Williams (1999), and Wittgenstein (1958/2009,
1969, 1980a, 1980b, 1981, 1982, 1989, 1992, 1993, 2013).
However,
having argued above that Voloshinov conflates the meaning of a word or sentence
with what a speaker might intend or might seek to accomplish by means of it --
that is, with how a sentence might be, or is actually, used -- it has to be
admitted that
Wittgenstein himself wasn't above
making the same mistake! In parts
of his later work (but mostly in notebooks), he began to experiment with the
idea that the use of a sentence could be a guide to the meaning of the
words it contained, or, indeed, the meaning of what was intended by whoever
uttered it, so that the
point of saying something, or who had said it, could affect its sense (or
its meaning; Wittgenstein grew a little vague over this distinction, it has to
be said). These comments typically arose in connection with what have come to be
known as 'Avowals' -- that is, first person reports of pain, etc. [On this, see
Hacker (1993a), pp.83-96.]
Unfortunately, if true, this would imply that sentences and words function in
the same way, but beyond certain sorts of clichéd and stereotypical sentences,
rules of grammar, so-called 'occasion sentences', 'one word sentences' and some
figures of speech, this idea has little to recommend it -- for reasons outlined
in the
main body
of this Essay, and again below.
Returning to
Wittgenstein, it is worth pointing out that much of his posthumously published
writings (where this change of emphasis began to appear) wasn't intended
for publication -- he actually wanted most of it destroyed. In these late
writings, Wittgenstein was
experimenting with new ideas, many of which were highly tentative. Anyway,
the notion that sentenceuse could determine meaning in
general (or that it could form part of a general account/theory of
language) would have been totally alien to his entire philosophical approach,
which was to emphasise how diverse language use is, and how any attempt to find
the
'essence' of meaning, or of use, was completely misguided. Hence, an account
that linked word meaning to sentence use could, at best, only ever have
assumed a
peripheral role in his account of language.
Unfortunately,
many of Wittgenstein's half-formed
thoughts have been ossified into dogma by his epigones and have thus been turned
into
eternally true statements that supposedly represent his 'official position',
even though the 'proof texts' on offer often come from such private
notebooks not intended for publication! Indeed, his last major work
(Wittgenstein (1958/2009))
was under constant revision right up until his death, and thus remained
incomplete. It was 'completed' by his literary executors on what now appear
to be unsound lines. [On this, see Stern (1995, 1996). On the difficulties
of interpreting Wittgenstein, see Cavell (1971b, 1996), and Heal (1995).]
Many of the changes Wittgenstein
intended to make are now reflected in the Fourth Edition of the
Philosophical Investigations, i.e.,
Wittgenstein (2009).
[For details, see the Editorial Preface --
pp.viii-xxiii. (These link to a PDF.)]
As noted
above, powerful
support for an Occasionalist
interpretation of Wittgenstein can be found in Travis (1989, 2000, 2006). [See
also Hilary Putnam's review of Travis (2000) in Putnam (2002).] Clearly, it
would be out of place to discuss Travis's work in detail here; however, since
this Essay sets its face against the general application of Occasionalist theses
in the Philosophy of Language, a few comments seem to be in order.
Travis's
work shares much with many other 'American' attempts to appropriate
Wittgenstein's method: it misses the point entirely. In an analogous
fashion, it is almost as if someone thought that they could further the cause of
workers' power (in a 'western democracy') by forming a clandestine
conspiratorial,
Blanquist, group. No matter what finally emerged as a result (and howsoever
noble or well-meaning the intentions), workers' interests wouldn't be advanced
one millimetre by such tactics. Analogously the same applies to those
commentators who fail to notice (or who miss the significance of) Wittgenstein's
implacably anti-theoretical stance (in Philosophy). [On this, see Kuusela
(2006, 2008).]
Travis's
work is blessed with commendable attention to detail, and if correct, much of
modern semantic and cognitive theory would surely go out of the window. However,
whatever one thinks of that
particular point, the methods Travis will have used to attain it (assuming that
this was his goal, of course) are as un-Wittgensteinian as one could imagine.
Naturally, that in itself isn't sufficient to condemn Travis's approach (which
clearly must stand or fall on its own merits), but as was the case with the
political example mentioned above, if Travis were correct, much of
Wittgenstein's work would end up in the trashcan, too. And that most certainly
wasn't Travis's aim.
The main
problem with Travis's work, as far as I can see, is that he completely ignores
those features of language we already have that allow us to speak of the
non-occasional meaning of the words we use. To be more precise, we have in our
repertoire linguistic expressions whose meaning would become problematic if they
were 'occasion-sensitive' in the way Travis envisages. Indeed, if he were
correct, we wouldn't be able to make much sense of Travis's own work, save we
knew the occasion on which (or for which) he wrote it. Since this topic was
discussedearlier, no more will be said about
it here. [As noted above, on this see Bridges (2010).]
87.
Voloshinov's book contains little that is recognisably scientific. It
does, however, contain much that is dogmatic. In that respect at least it
resembles 'Continental
Philosophy' sure enough. But, little comfort can be garnered from that fact
-- since it means his work resembles science even less.
[McNally (2001, 2004) added a page or
two of comments about dogmatism. I will examine what he has to say in a later
re-write of this Essay.]
87a.
This isn't entirely fair; as noted above,
there are rare flashes of good sense in Voloshinov's book.
88.
Admittedly, Parrington and Holborow share this idea with Marx and Engels, who
asserted as much in The German Ideology. Cf., Marx and Engels (1976),
p.44 -- i.e., Marx and Engels (1970), p.51.
89.
Naturally, this list doesn't exhaust the possible uses of this word.
89a.
It could be argued that this isn't so since this "need to communicate" must have
arisen directly on the basis of, or out of, rudimentary social development and
co-operative labour. While that might indeed be the case, this "need" can't have
been a felt need. To conclude otherwise would be tantamount to holding
the view that this need was represented or expressed in language before
language was invented! If, on the other hand, it is argued that this "need to
communicate" wasn't based on language, but on "thought", that would collapse
this alternative back into representationalism
and the belief that human beings initially represent the world to
themselves in some form or other, which would then prompt one or more of them to
form the 'languageless thought' (whatever that means!) that communication
would be a good idea, etc. But, for that to work, several individuals
will have had to have had the 'same thought' at the same time. How such thoughts
could be called the "same" when there is no way that they could be the same
(except miraculously, or coincidentally), is, of course, something of a mystery.
Naturally, this enquiry itself has
already been heavily biased (if not compromised) since it is we who are
attributing the thought "We need to communicate" to those who had as yet
no language, and no concept of communication, let alone any medium by
means of which either could be expressed.
On the other
hand, if each individual formed their own language first, so that they could
form the thought "We need to communicate", expressed in
their own
idiolect, or
proto-language -- even if that were possible -- it would once again
imply that language is primarily representational and individualistic, not
social and collective. [On this, see
Note 61.]
Indeed, Marx had already argued that the
invention of language by a lone individual isn't credible:
"Production
by an isolated individual outside society -- a rare exception which may well
occur when a civilized person in whom the social forces are already dynamically
present is cast by accident into the wilderness -- is as much of an absurdity
as is the development of language without individuals living together
and talking to each other. There is no point in dwelling on this any longer.
The point could go entirely unmentioned if this twaddle, which had sense and
reason for the eighteenth-century characters, had not been earnestly pulled back
into the centre of the most modern economics by
Bastiat,
Carey,
Proudhon etc...." [Marx
(1973), pp.84-85. Bold emphasis alone
added.]
"...this relation to land and soil, to the earth, as the property of
the labouring individual -- who thus appears from the outset not merely as
labouring individual, in this abstraction, but who has an objective mode of
existence in his ownership of the land, an existence presupposed
to his activity, and not merely as a result of it, a presupposition of his
activity just like his skin, his sense organs, which of course he also
reproduces and develops etc. in the life process, but which are nevertheless
presuppositions of this process of his reproduction -- is instantly mediated by
the naturally arisen, spontaneous, more or less historically developed and
modified presence of the individual as member of a commune -- his
naturally arisen presence as member of a tribe etc. An isolated individual
could no more have property in land and soil than he could speak. He could,
of course, live off it as substance, as do the animals." [Ibid.,
p.485.
Bold emphasis alone added.]
Those who
have read Lenin's
MEC might be tempted
to reply that we do indeed represent the world to ourselves in "images", and
this must have been the case before language developed. However, that theory has
been subjected to devastating and sustained criticism in Essay Thirteen
Part One. In addition, this
line-of-thought also undermines the social nature of language and thought, as
has been made plain above several times.
89b.
It is worth pointing out at this stage that there is much in Harman's article
with which I agree. Even though
Anthropology
(etc.) has moved on since his article was written, as have all the sciences, I
think Harman gets most things right -- from a Marxist perspective, that is.
89c.
This is despite the fact that Harman says the following:
"The sparsity of reliable information makes it very easy for people to make
elaborate, unsubstantiated conjectures about what might have happened, with no
facts to confirm or deny them -- the modern version of the 'Just
So' stories
Rudyard
Kipling
wrote for children nearly a century ago. All sorts of writers on human evolution
make hypotheses of the form, 'And, so, perhaps, we can explain the descent of
certain apes from the trees by their need to do X'. Within a couple of
paragraphs, the 'perhaps' has gone, and X becomes the origin of humanity.
"This method is the special hallmark of sociobiologists, but there are also some
very good theorists who fall into it on occasions. It is a method Marxists have
to reject. We are not interested in story telling for the sake of story telling.
So I will try to concentrate on what we know for certain. [Harman (1994),
p.87. Bold emphasis added.]
If Harman
ever gets round to writing an updated version of this article, it is to be hoped
he tries even harder to rely on what we know for certain -- and thus drops any
and all references to Engels's shaky first 'Law', which,
as we have seen, is no less dubious
than many of the 'Just So' stories Sociobiologists try to sell their readers.
[These comments were, of course, written before
Chris's untimely death.]
90.
Harman appears to be somewhat ambivalent about what is and what isn't
genetically 'determined'. On the one hand he says:
"So there has to be a recognition of how quantity turns into quality, of how
through successive changes animal life gave birth to that new form of life we
call 'human', which has a dynamic of its own, shaped by its labour and its
culture not by its genes…." [Harman
(1994), p.102. Bold emphasis added.]
On the other
hand, he also endorses Chomsky's genetic/nativist theory of the origin of
language. On that, see Note 109,
below.
Indeed, in the previous couple of paragraphs (to the one quoted above), he had
this to say:
"It is this which also explains the
development of those most peculiarly human attributes, language and
consciousness. The distinctive feature about human language, as opposed to the
sounds and gestures made by other animals, is that we use words to refer to
things and situations that are not actually present in front of us. We use them
to abstract from the reality that confronts us and to describe other realities.
And once we can do this to others, we can also do it to ourselves, using the
'inner speech' that goes on inside our heads to envisage new situations and new
goals. The ability to do these things cannot have arisen at one go. It must have
grown up over many generations as our remote ancestors learnt in practice,
through labour, to abstract from and to change immediate reality -- as they
began to use sounds and gestures not merely to indicate what was immediately in
front of them or what they immediately desired (which is what some animals do)
but to indicate how they wanted to change something and how they wanted others
to help them. In tool use we know there was a significant change from the ape to
the early humans: the ape picks up a stick or stone to use as a tool; the early
humans of 2 million years ago were already not only shaping the stick or stone,
but using other stones to do the shaping, and, undoubtedly, learning from each
other how to do this. This implies not merely conceptions about immediate things
(food stuffs), but about things once removed from immediacy (the tool that can
get the food stuff) and twice removed from immediate reality (the tool that can
shape the tool that gets the food stuff). And it also implies communication,
whether by gesture or sound, about things two stages removed from immediate
conditions -- in effect, the first use of abstract nouns, adjectives and verbs.
The development of labour and the development of communication thus,
necessarily, go hand in hand. And as they both develop, they both encourage the
selection of those new genes which made people more adept at both: the more
agile hand, the larger brain, the larynx that made a wider range of sounds.
"Such developments do not involve just quantitative changes. As the growth of
labour, the growth of sociability and the growth of language reinforced each
other, encouraging the selection of a whole range of new genes, new networks
of nerve cells would emerge in the brain, making possible whole new ranges of
interaction between people and the world around them. This may well explain
why suddenly new species of humans developed that lived alongside and then
superseded those that went before, as with the successive emergence of
homo habilis,
of
homo erectus,
of the various sorts of archaic human. Thus, it may well be the case that modern
humans eventually replaced the
Neanderthals
because they were able to communicate more quickly and clearly with each other
(although we will probably never know for certain if this was so)." [Ibid.,
pp.101-02. Bold emphasis added.]
But, as we
will see, none of this can be made consistent with Chomsky's theory. [On that,
see here.]
Even John Parrington spotted this!
"Both Chomsky and
Pinker
are similarly incapable of explaining the influence of social change on language
and thus of the development of language over time. Both these flaws are linked
to a much deeper and more fundamental one -- the separation between individual
thought and social language that we found in the earlier theories of language.
Voloshinov's work is as relevant today as it was in the 1920s because it bridges
the gap between individual thought and social language." [Parrington (1997),
p.125.]
"And it also implies communication, whether by gesture or sound, about things
two stages removed from immediate conditions -- in effect, the first use of
abstract nouns, adjectives and verbs. The development of labour and the
development of communication thus, necessarily, go hand in hand." [Harman
(1994), p.102.]
Abstract nouns (I'm not too sure what an "abstract verb" is) do not seem to be
related in any obvious way to our ability to talk about remote objects and
events. For example, suppose one of our ancestors had said either of the
following (in their own language, of course):
Which of
these involves the use of abstract nouns?
Of course,
it could be argued (along lines pursued by John Rees) that "yesterday", for
example, is abstract -- perhaps on the following grounds:
"Indeed, the very concept of 'fact' is
itself an abstraction, because no one has ever eaten, tasted, smelt, seen or
heard a 'fact,' which is a mental generalization that distinguishes actually
existing phenomena from imaginary conceptions." [Rees (1998a), p.131.]
That is, a noun is abstract if it refers to, or picks out, something that can't
be "eaten..., etc." Except, Harman seems to want to add the extra condition that
something need only be remote for it to require an abstract term to pick it out.
In that case, the Sun would be an abstraction (or "Sun" would be an abstract
noun), to say nothing of the stars! One might now wonder how such an abstraction
is able to supply the earth with abundant energy. However, as we will see in
Essay Twelve Part Four, Rees's crude test is highly questionable,
to say the least.
Again, it could be replied that "sabre tooth tiger" and "deer" are general, and
are therefore abstract terms. That conclusion is controversial; see Essay Three
Parts
One and
Two on this, where we saw that
traditional theories of abstraction in fact turn general words into the Proper
Names of 'abstract
particulars', destroying generality --, and with that would go the capacity
of predicative propositions to say anything at all.
Even so, "sabre tooth tiger" and "deer" both pass 'the Rees test', above.
However, those that still think such words are abstract need only consider the
following (schematic) sentence:
T3: NN is in XX.
Where "NN"
is the Proper Name of one of the above ancestors and "XX" is the name of
the village/community/cave he/she comes from. We only have to imagine that when
T3, for instance, was uttered, both hearer and speaker were situated several
miles away from XX. In this not unlikely scenario, there are no abstract
terms. [Unless we suppose that NN lives in an abstraction!]
Independently of this, Andrew Sayer has shown that if one accepts traditional
theories of abstraction (and I must confess I don't), many abstractions are just
as "real" as their concrete cousins. [Sayer (1992), pp.45-84. This is now Sayer
(2010), pp.31-57.]
91.
Harman's
imprecise -- if not sloppy -- use of language here is not
unconnected with several other aspects of DM examined in earlier Essays. In this
particular case: the
projection and imposition of human categories onto 'reality' subsequently
re-'emerge' as the very thing that had been inserted at the beginning! Hence, if
nature is
anthropomorphised and fetishised from the get-go -- by means of the use of
concepts appropriated from Traditional Philosophy, but more specifically, from
Hegelian Hermeticism --, then it
is no surprise to see 'intelligence' miraculously popping out at the other end.
This then fools dialecticians into thinking that they have made an important
contribution to scientific knowledge when, of course, all they have done is work
out the logical consequences of that earlier, unwise
projection/imposition/insertion. If human categories are
reified
and foisted on nature, they will, sooner-or-later, re-emerge in a theory that
pictures objects and processes acting as if they are quasi-agents, with
aims and intentions (i.e., in particular, the use of concepts and jargon that
motivate a belief in 'determinism'), engaging in conflicts -- all those
'dialectical contradictions' --, possessing goals -- via the operation of the
NON --, and having aims and interests of their own -- e.g., "natural selection"
will "bring about"/"encourage" X, Y or Z....
This helps
account for the widespread use by dialecticians of
teleological
language in their attempt to explain natural processes. If nature has been
animated from the start by borrowing the mystical jargon invented by
German Idealists
and other
assorted mystics
-- a fatal blunder that was further compounded by the misconstrual and
fetishisation of language along the way
--, it is hardly surprising that teleological properties suddenly "emerge" at
the end. In this instance dialectical word-juggling has only succeeded in giving
birth to a novel form of teleologicalSuperscience, which then took
the place of ancient forms of Christian Mysticism -- an approach to theory,
incidentally, that has had much the same impact on Traditional Thought over the
last two thousand years or so as it has had on DM.
[NON = Negation of the Negation.]
[On this, see Essay Twelve
Part One
and the rest of Essay Twelve when it is finally published (summary
here).]
With respect
to DM, this means, for example, that a particular word -- which should normally
only feature in the depiction or description of a conversation or an argument
between two human beings (i.e., "contradiction") -- has now re-surfaced in one
of the 'laws of dialectics'. As a result, we not only have the NON governing the
development of nature and society, there appear to be 'contradictions' and
'abstractions' at every turn.
As Hegel
argued (of course, without bothering to supply any proof, or even a single
scrap of supporting evidence -- and the DM-nodding-dogs dutifully concurred):
"Contradiction is the very moving principle of the world: and it is
ridiculous to say that contradiction is unthinkable. The only thing correct
in that statement is that contradiction is not the end of the matter, but
cancels itself. But contradiction, when cancelled, does not leave abstract
identity; for that is itself only one side of the contrariety. The proximate
result of opposition (when realised as contradiction) is the Ground, which
contains identity as well as difference superseded and deposited to elements in
the completer notion." [Hegel (1975), p.174;
Essence as Ground of Existence, §119.
Bold emphasis added.]
"But
it is one of the fundamental prejudices of logic as hitherto understood and of
ordinary thinking that contradiction is not so characteristically essential and
immanent a determination as identity; but in fact, if it were a question of
grading the two determinations and they had to be kept separate, then
contradiction would have to be taken as the profounder determination and more
characteristic of essence. For as against contradiction, identity is merely the
determination of the simple immediate, of dead being; but
contradiction is the root of all movement and vitality;
it is only in so far as something has a contradiction within it that it moves,
has an urge and activity."
[Hegel (1999),
p.439, §956. Bold emphasis added.]
Hegel did,
however, attempt to cobble-together several 'arguments' of dubious merit in
support. On that, see
here and
here. I
will be examining these 'arguments' in more detail in Essay Twelve Parts Five
and Six.]
Whether or
not it is true that Darwin banished teleology from nature, one thing is for
sure, DM only succeeded in
re-introducing
it. Indeed, as I argued in Essay Four, dialecticians have
re-enchanted nature.
92. Elsewhere (here
and here), I
have likened this tactic to the 'God-of-the-gaps'
dodge pulled by the Creationists. The way the latter works is as follows: if
there is (at present) no scientific explanation for some phenomenon or other,
then 'God', a 'miracle' or some other supernatural 'cause' is introduced to
account for it.
In like manner, DM-theorists use similar verbal tricks to plug the gaps in their
theory. For example, they employ the ubiquitous word "dialectical" (a) To
account for any processes which they otherwise can't explain, and (b) To
neutralise the contradictions apparent in their own theory. [On that, see
here.] Another
word they also like to overuse in this way is "emerge". New properties simply
and miraculously seem to "emerge" from unsuspecting configurations of matter,
which "can't be reduced to" underlying processes. No further explanation is
required -- so don't ask. [An excellent example of this approach can be
found in
Note 94, below.]
I will, however, destructively analyse this verbal con-trick in Essay Three Part
Three (when it is published). [Until then, see
here, where I have called
this dodge "The Nixon Gambit", after the
37th
President of the United States and the
things he said about the
Vietnam War
in the run-up to his election in November 1968.]
92a. One suspects, however, that there
might have been a misprint here, or some other typographical error. Either that,
or Harman has conflated the meanings of "contingent" and "unlikely" -- or
perhaps even "neither likely nor unlikely".
Be this as
it may, it is clear that Paul McGarr has a slightly firmer grasp of the issues
involved, even though he too proceeds to make the usual mistakes, in
McGarr (2003), pp.102-09. I will say more about that in Essay Three Part
Five.
93.
On this, see Note 91 above. Of course, it could be
argued that Harman is merely highlighting the uncontroversial fact that certain
events are more likely to happen given previous stages in evolution and
in cultural development. Hence, it could be maintained that while he rejects
contingency here, he is still not embracing teleological necessity. But, in that
case, Harman must be using "contingent" in a new and as-yet-unexplained way.
Indeed, as we will soon see, several other things he says don't harmonise at all
well with this hypothetical defence.
Further proof that Harman is a necessitarian-still-in-the-closet can to
be found in the following passage from Engels, which Harman quotes approvingly:
"'Men-in-the-making arrived at the point
where they had something to say to each other. Necessity created the organ;
the undeveloped larynx of the ape was slowly but surely transformed by
modulation to produce constantly more developed modulation, and the organs of
the mouth gradually learned to pronounce one articulate sound after another.'
"Parallel with this there was a
necessary development of the brain:
'The reaction of labour and speech on the development of the brain and its
attendant senses, of the increasing clarity of consciousness, power of
abstraction and of conclusion, gave both labour and speech an ever renewed
impulse to further development.'" [Harman (1994),
p.85; quoting Engels (1876),
p.356. Bold emphases added.]
This seems
pretty clear.
Concerning
the
teleological nature of Darwinism
(in its classical and
more modern forms), see Stove (2006), pp.205-306, and Fuller (2006).
[Readers unfamiliar with David Stove's work should, however, consult
this warning.]
As the late
Jerry Fodor noted (in relation to Daniel Dennett's
attempt to explain 'design', 'selection for' and 'reverse
engineering' in naturalistic terms:
"Suppose, however, that
adaptationism
is true; is it able to ground a notion of natural
teleology?... Is it then reasonable to speak of [a certain property] P as a
property that [organism] O was 'designed' to have? Or as a 'solution' to an
'engineering problem' that O's ecology posed?...
"The subtext is the thing to keep your eye on here.
It is, no doubt, an interesting question in its own right whether adaptationism
licences teleological notions like SELECTION FOR. But what makes that question
interesting in the present metaphysical context is that SELECTION FOR is
presumably
intensional.... If so, then maybe a
naturalistic teleology is indeed a first step toward a naturalistic theory of
mind.
"But, promising though it may seem, I'm afraid this
line is hopeless, and for familiar reasons. Design (as opposed to mere order)
requires a designer. Not theologically or metaphysically..., but just
conceptually. You can't explain intentionality by appealing to the notion of
design because the notion of design presupposes
intentionality....
"Patently, not every effect that a process has is
ipso facto
an effect that it designs; short of theology, at
least some effects of every process are merely adventitious.
This must hold of the process of natural selection
inter alia. So, in evolutionary theory as
elsewhere, if you wish to deploy the idiom of posed problems and designed
solutions [as Dennett does -- RL], you must say something about what designing
requires over and above mere causing. Lacking this distinction,
everything a process causes is (vacuously) one of its designed effects, and
every one of its effects is (vacuously) the solution to the problem of causing
one of those.
"To be sure, if solutions aren't distinguished from
mere effects, it does come out -- as Dennett would want it to -- that the
giraffe's long neck solved the problem of reaching to the top of things, and did
so under precisely the ecological conditions that giraffes evolved in. But
equally...the
Rockies
solve the problem of how to make mountains just
like the Rockies out of just the materials that the Rockies are made of and
under just the conditions of upthrust and erosion in which they formed; and the
Pacific Ocean solves the problem of how to make a hole of just that size and
just that shape that is filled with just that much salt water; and the tree in
my garden solves the problem of how to cast a shadow just that long at just this
time of the day. This, however, is no metaphysical breakthrough. It's just a
rather pointless way of talking; neither [the Rockies] nor the Pacific get any
kudos for being solutions in this attenuated sense. That's because problems like
this are like headaches; they don't float free of people having them. The
Pacific [and the Rockies] didn't really solve anything because nobody
had the problems that [these] would have been the solutions to....
"Serious talk about problems and solutions requires
a serious account of the difference between designing and merely causing.
Notice, moreover, that if your goal is a reductive theory of intentionality,
then your account of this difference cannot itself invoke intentional idiom in
any essential way. This really does make things hard for Dennett. In the usual
case, we distinguish designing from mere causing by reference to the effects
that the designer did or didn't intend. For example: The flowers that Sam
gave Mary made her wheeze and did not please her. They were, nonetheless, a
failed solution to the please-Mary problem, not a successful solution to the
wheeze-Mary problem. That's because Sam intended that receiving the flowers
should please her and did not intend that they should excite her asthma.
Suppose, by contrast, that Mary merely came across the flowers, and they
both pleased her and made her wheeze. Then the flowers didn't solve, or fail to
solve, anything;
they just had whatever effects they did.... It certainly looks [from this that]
the concept of design presupposes, and hence cannot be invoked to explain,
the accessibility of intentional idiom.
"If you found a watch on a desert island, you'd have
a couple of options. You could argue that since it was clearly designed, there
has to have been a designer; or you could argue that since there certainly was
no designer, the watch can't have been designed. What is not, however,
available is the course that Dennett appears to be embarked upon: there was no
designer, but the watch was designed all the same.
That just makes no sense." [Fodor (1998c), pp.176-78. Capitals and
italics in the original; Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions
adopted at this site.]
Incidentally, the above (in a way) is just a modern (and perhaps more
sophisticated) version of the argument between
Rationalist and Empiricist Philosophers over the nature of causation two or
three hundred years ago. I have summarised the main points relevant to Hegel's
reply to Hume,
here. [In
this, Dennett is Hegel (anthropomorphising
nature in order to make his ideas even seem to work), and Fodor is a 'sort
of Hume', minus the empiricism and
associationist psychology, among other things.]
Naturally, the determined
DM-supporter (no pun intended) might want to argue that these two cases
(that is, those involving water and language) are not at all comparable. The
obvious differences between these two mean that the origin of language will
require its own, but more complex and sophisticated, explanation.
[I will discuss several standard
accounts of the
origin of language in more detail in a later re-write of this Essay -- those
found, for example, in the following works (among others): Bickerton (2009),
Boyd and Richerson (2005), Burling (2005), Carruthers and Boucher (1998),
Carruthers, Laurence, and Stich (2005, 2006, 2007), Carstairs-McCarthy (1999),
Christiansen and Kirby (2005), Crozier (2008), Deacon (1997), Dunbar, Knight,
and Power (1999), Erneling and Johnson (2005), Hurford (2007), Knight,
Studdert-Kennedy, and Hurford (2000),
MacNeilage (2008),
Richerson and Boyd (2005), Sterelny (2003), Stich and Warfield (1994), and Wray
(2002). I will also look at
Ruth
Garrett Millikan's interesting work. E.g.,
Millikan (1984, 2005a).]
However,
this issue now introduces the well-worn -- but misleadingly entitled -- topic:
"Determinism", a subject I will be discussing in more detail in Essay Three Part
Five. [Among other things, that Essay will contain a response to
Molyneux (1995).] However, in view of the above, a few comments are clearly
called for. [I have also said more about 'Determinism' in the
Appendix, where I have
reproduced an edited version of an article I posted to Marxmail a few
years ago.]
The critical
problems facing any DM-account of nature aren't unconnected with the severely
limited logical, linguistic and conceptual resources available to its adepts,
and this in turn is largely because dialecticians have based their thinking on
the sub-Aristotelian Logic and
mystical confusions they inherited from Hegel (upside down or 'the right way
up').
According to Engels [for example,
Engels (1976), p.180 and
(1954), p.211], dialectical concepts provide its adherents with an
explanation of how the entire history of the universe has proceeded up to the
present (of course, most dialecticians also advance
similar hyper-bold claims).
In practice, however, these concepts have been applied in a consistently
aprioristic manner far in excess of the embarrassingly weak and
highly equivocal evidence offered in support,
and in many cases in defiance of the
facts -- an approach further compounded by a reckless disavowal of the
normal
cannons of reasoning. [On that, see
Essay Two, and Essays Four
through Eleven Part Two.] If the ubiquitous
fetishisation of language perpetuated
by DM-theorists is now taken into account, the terminology dialecticians employ
-- strike that: the jargon they have imported from Hegel -- is inevitably going
to make their theories of development appear far more deterministic than they
might otherwise have been.
[DM = Dialectical Materialism.]
In fact, on
this issue, as elsewhere, DM-theorists share with Traditional Philosophers an
age-old misuse of the word "determine". This term, alongside its cognates,
normally relates to the application of intelligence, purpose and direction (a
point outlined in more detail Essay Three Part Five; cf., Gallop (1962), and
Russell (1917a)). Given these factors, it is no mystery at all why DM is not
only deterministic, it is covertly
animistic and
overtly
teleological into the bargain -- indeed, just as Traditional Philosophy
is heavily slanted in the same direction. [On the latter, see Note 91, above.]
For
DM-theorists, as noted in Essay Eight Parts
One and
Two, the ultimate link between
events appears to be 'conceptual' (i.e., these links --
those "mediacies" --, are governed by what Lenin called a "law of cognition" --
Lenin (1961), p.357) -- or, at least, it seems that DM-theorists alone
are able to apprehend them in this way. [But, even then, if our thoughts
about 'reality' are true (or are meant to be
increasing true), then nature itself must somehow be governed by an
analogous set of 'laws'. In Essay Twelve Part Four, I aim to show that this is
indeed the implication: if, per impossible, DM were true, Nature would be
'Mind'.] This can be seen from the way that these connections were depicted.
Human cognition of nature is supposedly based on a process of active
"reflection" and "abstraction"; the resulting 'abstractions' are then supposed
to "reflect" reality increasingly accurately (i.e., when tested and refined in
practice).
Despite
claims to the contrary, and as noted above, this can only mean that nature is
ultimately 'mind-like', governed by the products of some intellect or other; to
be more precise, it must be governed by these 'abstractions', or whatever it
was that first created such 'abstractions' -- or even by what they allegedly
'reflect' -- before humanity became aware of them. After all, if we take
away the human intellect, what could these 'abstractions' actually
'reflect' in reality? If there is nothing for them to 'reflect', they
can't be part of the material universe. On the other hand, if they do 'reflect'
something in nature, then the universe must be the product of 'mind' -- or, it
must be 'mind-like'. Once more, this is hardly surprising given the origin of DM
in Mystical Christianity and 'Pagan'
Hermeticism.
[This
argument is set out in more detail in Essay Three
Part One,
where we saw that dialecticians are rather unclear whether their 'abstractions'
are (i) merely 'mental' constructs that help us understand and control nature,
or whether they (ii) 'reflect' objects and processes in 'external reality' --
or, indeed, whether (iii) they are those objects and processes
themselves. Once again, given that this theory grew out of Mystical Christianity
and
Cabbalistic Hermeticism
-- a set of theories that in the end can't distinguish fact from fantasy -- that
is no big surprise.]
On the other
hand, DM-theorists also believe that there are in nature what can only be
described as mysterious 'pockets of freedom', because certain processes are
deemed to be free from 'determining causes' --, or, at least there are processes
in nature (for example, those connected with human agency/action) which can't be
"reduced" to them. The story seems to be that 'freedom' just "emerges" from a
sufficiently intricate material (or social?) base as a result of the operation
of Engels's First 'Law'. So, when this 'Law' is applied to, or operates in/on
systems that display the right level of complexity, it seems capable explaining
how such acts of will become 'free' of their material base. Hence, while a given
system might be 'determined' at one level, at another it miraculously changes
and qualitatively "leaps" into another realm, one that remarkably, if not
magically, displays 'freedom'. No explanation is given as to how this is
possible, or even how it actually happens; it is left a complete mystery. In
the end, this is no explanation, it is merely a
re-description (in a 'favourable form') that shrouds the relevant phenomena
in a dense fog -- on a par with religious
'explanations' of certain events as 'acts of god'/'miracles'. Once again,
this is hardly surprising when we recall the mystical provenance of this
'theory'.
But, given
other constraints operating on DM, this supposedly
supervenient property of matter (whereby 'free' events appear to float
unconstrained on a sea of 'determining' processes) can't itself be
causally linked to the base from which it has just "leaped", otherwise it,
too, would be subject to the usual 'determining' influences feeding up from that
base --, thus cancelling, or perhaps nullifying, this alleged 'freedom'. So,
given DM, there can be no physical, or even causal, link between matter and
human freedom! One wonders why human action is capricious.
That partly
accounts for the hostility DM-theorists have traditionally shown toward "reductionism".
The latter doctrine threatens to undermine their account of freedom, and hence
human agency in the class struggle, for example.
[At this
point, perhaps only
Second International Marxists and Stalinists would want to hand-wave that
particular 'concern' away.]
And yet,
this means that there must now exist
a very real causal gap in the DM-account of natural systems. Given the truth
of DM, it seems that certain aspects of reality (i.e., those displaying
"freedom") simply can't be given a causal explanation (or, at least, they
can't be given a classically causal one), while others can.
The
DM-solution, if such it may be called, is to (a) Brand any who object to this
'miraculous theory' of theirs, "mechanical/crude
materialists", or (b) Reject as "bourgeois" any demand that a causal account
be given of these miraculous 'pockets of freedom'.
As noted above, this tactic is different
in name only from the approach adopted by Christians, who appeal to the
'God-of-the-gaps', 'the soul', or other assorted 'miracles' to bale their
'theory' out.
On the other
hand, if these events and processes are fully and trulyfree,
what could possibly explain their operation? The question now naturally arises:
Are such events completely
adventitious and
un-caused? If they are, then they will have no explanation,
being
entirely capricious and totally unrelated to an agent's previous character and
social or individual circumstances. [Of course, this depends on how "free
will" is defined by DM-fans. Good to anyone seeking a clear answer to that one!]
How then are such acts any different from those that are merely
coincidental? Or, from those that are completely random? Are these
DM-'causes' noumenal?
Maybe these events and processes are
noumenal, too?
[On
coincidences, see Owens (1992). I must, however, add that I distance
myself from the latter's account of causation.]
Furthermore,
if these events and processes are indeed un-caused, nothing physical, or
recognisably physical, will actually connect them to their supposed material
base. Such a 'connection' (if one were to exist) can't therefore be material,
but must be conceptual -- something which only a 'mind' can appreciate or
even constitute -- as was pointed out
earlier. This helps explain why Lenin
said the following:
"Intelligent idealism is closer to intelligent
materialism than stupid materialism. Dialectical idealism instead of
intelligent; metaphysical, undeveloped, dead, crude, rigid instead of stupid." [Lenin
(1961), p.274. Paragraphs merged.]
And yet, if
there were such conceptual
links between a given material base and the aforementioned 'emergent'
properties,
which preceded the evolution of the human species, then nature itself must
once again be 'Mind', or be governed by 'Mind'.
On the other
hand, if there is
a physical link between the material base and these mysterious 'emergent'
properties, then there will be an explanatory or (possibly) reductive law (etc.)
-- or a 'bridging law', at least -- that connects them to that base, and
we are back at square one. [Otherwise, the relevant objects and process will be
uncaused, once more, and thus merely capricious.]
[But,
as we will see, that
alternative is no solution, either, for these 'laws' are themselves conceptual!
Naturally, this means that there can be no metaphysical solution to this
classical 'problem', since it, too, is
based on linguistic confusion, and nothing more. That explains, of
course, why this pseudo-problem has been around for so long and resists all
attempts at its resolution.]
In fact, in
DM, 'free' events appear to be completely autonomous -- they look for all
the world as if they are non-material, semi-ethereal
entities -- which, in mystical belief-systems, were attributed to the operation
of the 'soul'.
Indeed,
it isn't too preposterous to suggest that spurious freedom like this, that just
'emerges' from nowhere, is the DM-surrogate
for the 'soul', and which, in like manner, simply 'emerged' or emanated from
'God', and which also enjoys its own
problematic links with matter.
That, of
course, accounts for the allegations made throughout this Essay (especially
here) that dialecticians have bought into the Traditional Platonic-Christian-Cartesian theory of
'the mind' as a non-material substance. Indeed, it also explains why
Lenin 'defined' matter as that which exists "objectively outside the mind", also
examined briefly above.
From that we can see that he was a closet dualist (despite his
pretensions, and that of his epigones, to the contrary), for how else can
matter be outside the 'mind'?
In addition,
we saw earlier how Trotsky appealed to Engels's 'Law' to account for human
freedom (i.e., presumably, 'free will'):
"...[I]t
is precisely dialectical materialism
that prompts us to the idea that the psyche could not even be formed unless it
played an autonomous, that is, within certain limits, an independent role in the
life of the individual and the species. All the same, we approach some sort of
critical point, a break in the gradualness, a transition from quantity into
quality: the psyche arising from matter, is 'freed' from the determinism of
matter, so that it can independently --- by its own laws -- influence matter."
[Trotsky (1986), p.106. Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions
adopted at this site. Paragraphs merged.]
And yet, if
the "psyche" is bound by certain 'laws', what are they, and how 'free' can the
"psyche" be as a result?
How strange
then that in trying to banish mysticism from our understanding of nature and
'mind', DM-theorists invite this
Cartesian Ghost back in through the front door, spread out a "welcome" mat,
crack open a bottle of
Bollinger,
strike up a brass band and bestow on it the honorific title: "Yet Another
Emergent Property"!
This also
partly accounts for the
fanfare that accompanies the many 'scientific' breakthroughs
DM-acolytes claim for their theory. DM-fans seem to be able to "grasp"
a-contradiction-a-day (or, in many cases, more than one), which 'allows' them to
claim, in this instance, that they have solved the 'contradiction' between
freedom and necessity merely by saying that they have done so, and
then refusing to give any more details -- that is, other than telling
doubters that they just don't 'understand' dialectics.
[In a
similar vein,
George W
Bush
was, of course, in favour of peace, freedom and democracy simply because he
said so! Problem solved! In Essay Eight
Part One, this DM-ploy was called "The "Nixon Gambit".]
Worse still,
some 'free' events seem capable of operating in reverse gear, as it were.
For example, acts of 'free will' allow (supposedly) dialectically inspired
agents to alter their own bodies and affect the world around them (aka
"revolutionary practice"). While DM-theorists might want to side-step the
minefield of reductionism, none of them, not one, will deny that human
beings can affect the material world by certain 'acts of will'. But, given their
theory, this would seem to be impossible (or, at least, at present it lacks any
sort of
materialist explanation). If such 'free states' of mind (that accompany
these 'free' acts of will) are autonomous and have no causal connection
with underlying material micro-states,
how are they then capable of affecting matter on the return journey, so to
speak?
Consider a
simple example:
NN intentionally raises her arm. Here, we might be tempted to say that
she formed the intention, acts upon it, and the arm was raised. But, what
connects the material processes in
NN's CNS to
that action? Presumably, the intention. But, if that intention was 'free' then
nothing can physically, or causally, connect it with the CNS, and if that is
so, nothing can physically connect the CNS with the action itself. In which
case, how is that action attributable to the
one supposedly 'intending' it?
On the other
hand, if something physical does
connect the intention with the CNS, thus raising the arm, then it can't be free,
but must be 'causally determined'. Another appeal to 'emergent' properties here
would be to no avail.
Even if the said intention were an 'emergent' property (or based on one),
it can't be connected by a causal law to the CNS. That is because if it were
connected by such a law, then that intention can't be free, and neither can the
act itself. And, if that is so, neither can more complex human actions.
[Plainly, this alternative collapses the traditional DM-account right back into
Second International Determinism.]
Neutral
observers can now, perhaps, see why dialecticians respond with accusations of
'crude materialism' at this point --
they have no other reply available to
them: name-calling.
[Incidentally, the above paragraphs shouldn't be taken to mean that I accept
this way of framing or conceptualising this topic! I am merely rehearsing the
traditional account, which DM-fans accept up to a point, even if they
then have to appeal to 'emergent properties' to save their theory from
accusations of extreme voluntarism on the one hand and reductionism or Second
International Determinism on the other.]
Others may
be tempted to ask at this point: "Ok, Ms Lichtenstein, what's your
solution?" Such individuals are referred back to
this comment for
an answer. I reject the original 'problem' as both non-sensical and
incoherent. [Impatient readers will need to wait until Essay Three Part Five
has been published for more details. Until then, see
Appendix A.] However, the main lines of my reply have already been laid
down above, and in Essay Twelve Part
One.
[In the
meantime, readers might like to see how I have responded to criticisms levelled
at me over at RevLeft,
here,
here,
here,
here, and
here (and follow the links there, too). Unfortunately, these links are now
dead!]
Alternatively, again, if these processes do
enjoy causal connections with their substrata (in the sense that they aren't
entirely free-floating on some sort of material substratum), how could
spontaneity possibly have 'emerged' in the first place? Are there 'holes' in the
fabric of each brain that allow 'free will' to sneak in, and then back out again
-- analogous to the Cartesian Soul with its associated 'gateway to the material
world', the
Pineal
Gland? If not, does 'free will' arise from something non-material? It seems
it must if it enjoys no causal links with its material base.
Naturally,
conclusions like these are unacceptable -- even to those DM-theorists who
don't look to
probabilistically-driven quantum states to rescue spontaneity from the jaws
of inevitability -- for they would appear to be based on an Idealist solution to
the original 'problem'. That is because the DM-approach clearly divorces matter
from 'mind', introducing discontinuities in nature (i.e., the 'gaps' that
Engels's First 'Law' is supposed to have allowed the development of nature to
"leap" across, and to which
Trotsky and
John Parrington referred),
discontinuities that must be bridged by a DM-'law of cognition', along with its
associated
conceptual links. Into such 'gaps' a
non-material mind can all too easily be smuggled. A scenario like this
clearly allows space for just such a ghostly human 'soul' to 'account' for
spontaneity and freedom, which prospect will, naturally, horrify DM-fans. This
also helps explain the haste with which Alex Callinicos, for example, clutched
at the few meagre straws offered by
Daniel Dennett's equally
defective explanation of
"consciousness", which 'explanation' only seems to work because it
anthropomorphises the brain with its appeal to diminutive Dennettian
homunculi and 'dim algorithms', thereby attributing our 'free acts' of will
to the 'free acts' of will exercised by little men in our heads -- a
dishonest solution, at best. Others seek solace, if not refuge, in the
impenetrable gobbledygook scattered across Hegel's oeuvre -- and, perhaps
worse, in much that litters post-Heideggerian
'Continental
Philosophy', the metaphysical equivalent of
destroying a town
in order to save it.
[Anyone who
doubts this hasn't read much of what passes for 'Marxist Philosophy' these days
and perhaps knows little of the intellectual gyrations and contortions routinely
performed by
High Church Dialecticians, for instance. Nor have they eye-balled the
labyrinthine musings of the likes of
Gerry Healy
-- samples of which can be found
here and
here. (Health Warning: the latter can seriously damage your militancy!)
Sceptical readers should also consult Healy (1982,
1990) -- where, if they follow this advice, they will deserve all they
get. Alternatively, try
this,
this and
this -- swiftly followed by a half bottle of single malt whiskey.]
Again, there
appears to be no obvious way out of this Dialectical Hole: either DM-theorists
admit that everything is causally related to (or "mediated" by)
something/everything else, or
they concede that some things are uncaused (i.e., un-mediated, and hence are
non-material/immaterial), thereby fragmenting their
Totality.
[The details
surrounding this dialectical 'difficulty' have been worked out extensively in
Essay Thirteen
Part One.
Of course, dialecticians appear not to mean the same by "cause" as 'mechanical
materialists' appear to do, but then it isn't easy
to say
what dialecticians
do mean by "cause", either. As noted earlier, from the way they
characterise objects and processes (with their 'internal relations'),
causes in effect appear to be little different from
conceptual links
imagined to exist between certain objects and processes, which links are, alas,
impossible to confirm by any known physical means. (This quandary is, of course,
a direct descendant of
Hegel's
attempt to respond the Hume's criticism of Rationalist Theories of Causation.)
Hence, as is the case with
traditional ruling-class thought, these 'links' are 'discoverable' by -- and
werein fact 'discovered' by -- the application of thought
alone, and relate to a non-material (Ideal) world anterior to experience,
or, indeed, 'appearances'. Again, this is no surprise in view of the fact that
these obscure notions were appropriated from Hegel and Mystical
Neo-Platonism.]
The
DM-solution (again, if such it may be called) is to "grasp" this paradox and admit both halves of it!
This ploy
isn't as harebrained as might at first sight seem: if your theory readily
accepts the universal existence of 'contradictions', then an additional paradox
-- which has now arisen between the material base and human "freedom" -- is just
more grist to the DM-mill. However, as noted in Essay Eleven
Part One, the indulgence DM-theorists readily extend to the contradictions
inherent in their own theory is not only jealously guarded, it is strictly
rationed. In fact, such benign indulgence is consistently
withheld from
rivals and opponents and the contradictions their theories are said to exhibit
-- including those devised by theorists who display only half as cavalier
an attitude to logic as the average dialectician. But, worse still: as also
noted in Essay Seven
Part One, the welcome mat laid out for the many contradictions inherent in
DM would mean that -- according to dialecticians' own criteria for scientific
advance -- it must either (i) Fail to be a science, or, (ii) If it is
a science, it implies that science (and DM) can't advance. [On why that
is so, see
here and
here.]
95.
Unfortunately, the only reference Harman gives in support of his allegations
about Sociobiology is a book called Blood Relations, by Chris Knight
(i.e., Knight (1995) -- a work he had reviewed in an earlier issue of
International Socialism -- i.e., Harman (1992).
However, to be fair to Harman, the claim made in the main body of this Essay
doesn't represent the whole truth; in a rare display of honesty about
Engels, he admitted that Engels also
indulged in similar flights of fancy [Harman (1994),
p.184, n.12]. One wonders, then, what Harman made of Engels's rather odd
belief in the existence of a 'parrot language', or of Parrington and Holborow's
reference to the "need to communicate" as a revealing example of a Lamarckian
explanation of the origin of discourse. On this, see Note 96.]
96.
It shouldn't be concluded from this that the present author either accepts or
rejects Lamarckian explanations of the evolution of human society. The comment
in the main body of this Essay (at this point) relates to pre-linguistic
human, or proto-human, groups (which couldn't at that stage be called
communities); clearly, Lamarckian concepts can only be applied to such
groups if they possess linguistic, social and hence genuinely teleological
capacities -- or, alternatively, if such groups are
(metaphorically) regarded as organisms
in their own right.
97.
Although he wrote these words before Daniel Dennett's egregious book was
published [Dennett (1995)], if he re-reads Dennett's sophisticated
Neo-Darwinian/Sociobiological account of evolution he will see this point for
himself. [That comment was, of course, written before Chris's untimely death!]
Dennett's work not only doesn't commit the intellectual crimes Hartman
(rightly) attributes to certain sociobiologists, Dennett actually attempts to
answer Gould's criticism that sociobiological theories are little more than
elaborate myths. [Cf., Dennett (1995), pp.238-51.] Dennett's work, is however,
susceptible to other, more searching criticisms; on that, see
here,
here and here. Anyway, as
noted above, Alex Callinicos certainly thinks
highly of Dennett's work [Callinicos (1996, 1997)]; apart from a few
quibbles over relatively minor issues, he downed the contents of that
poisoned chalice with remarkable ease.
The serious
problems that afflict Neo-Darwinism won't be entered into here. On this in
general, see Stove (2006). [Readers unfamiliar with David Stove's work should,
however, check out this
warning.] Also see, Goodwin (1994, 2001), Kauffman (1993, 1995), Schwartz
(1999), Webster and Goodwin (1996), as well as the following interview given by
Brain
Goodwin:
"King:
How does your new model of biology incorporate genetics?
"Goodwin:
A major problem is that in contemporary Darwinism, organisms are actually
reduced to genes and their products. Darwinism has given us a very good theory
of inheritance in terms of a theory of the genes, but what it has done is to
sacrifice the whole organism, as a real entity, to this reductionism, genetic
reductionism.
"That means that organisms have disappeared as real entities from biology, and
that, I think, this (sic) is a fundamental scientific error. There's another
aspect of this problem which has to do with the way Darwinists explains (sic)
embryonic development. They say that there is a genetic program that determines
the development of an organism. An organism wants to become a newt, say, or a
sea urchin. Because it has particular genes, they say, it undergoes a particular
embryonic development and that is sufficient, in other words knowing the genes
is sufficient to understand the details of the embryonic development, and the
emergence of a species with its characteristic form and behaviour. That sounds,
on the face of it, plausible because we know that mutations actually cause
transformation of morphology.
Drosophila
can have a mutation that transforms a two winged fly to a four winged fly. Now
that is a pretty major transformation, and a single gene can do it. So you might
say that's the sort of thing that is involved in evolution. Well, you see, the
burden of proof then is on the neo-Darwinists to demonstrate exactly how the
genes do this. They use the term genetic programming, and it is a metaphor for
what happens in a computer, but if you ask them to use a genetic program to
generate an organism, they can't do it, and the reasons are very simple. You
need to know more than gene products in order to explain the emergence of shape
and form in organisms. You actually need a theory, a theory that involves
physics, chemistry, forces and spatial organization. You can have complete
details about genes and you are not going to be able to explain how development
occurs. So I think that is the fundamental test. When Darwinists say to me
'genes are enough', I say 'Show me.'...
"King:
How would the new science affect our social theories?
"Goodwin:
Well, another consequence of this new view of species and evolution is it does
shift the metaphors that are used to understand evolutionary processes. In
Darwinism, you know, the metaphors are of competition and conflict and survival,
and in Dawkins' writing it becomes embodied in the notion of selfish genes.
"Well, from the perspective of organisms as complex dynamic systems, with
natures and trying to understand the ecosystem from the (sic) point of view,
what you find is that organisms are interacting with each other in all kinds of
different ways. They are as co-operative as they are competitive, and a lot of
the time they are simply making a living. In other words, it's not this nature
red in tooth and claw, with fierce competition and the survivors coming away
with the spoils. In fact, species extinction seems to be as much to do with the
lottery which comes from the dynamics of complex systems, as from anything else.
The whole metaphor of evolution, instead of being one of competition, conflict
and survival, becomes one of creativity and transformation...." [Quoted from
here.]
The rise of alternative
epigenetic theories of development and transmission has also begun to
threaten the intellectual hegemony enjoyed by Neo-Darwinism for the best part of
the last eighty years. [On this, see, for example, Carey (2011), Francis (2012)
and Ward (2018).]
The discussion between
Elliott
Sober and Jerry Fodor can be accessed
here. [See
also
Sober (2010); this links to a PDF.]
[Once more,
it is important to note that even though I am referencing the above works, I
do not necessarily agree with everything they contain. The above was written
before
Jerry Fodor's recent death.]
97a.
Although, to be scrupulously accurate, Harman doesn't actually use the word
"emergent" in his article. However, what he does say about
'consciousness' and language certainly implies he wouldn't disagree with this
use of that term:
"It is this which explains why our forebears were able, a million or so years
ago, to move out of their African ancestral home into the very different
climatic conditions of Eurasia, and why the
Neanderthals
were able to survive the harsh conditions of the European ice age for 100,000
years or more. However great or little their differences from us, they could not
have survived unless they had at least substantial rudiments of culture,
language and intelligence. After all, they were like us in one very
important respect: they had nothing else to protect them -- no body fur, no
great speed in flight, no tusks or claws, no ready ability to disappear into the
trees.
"It is this which also explains the
development of those most peculiarly human attributes,
language and consciousness. The distinctive feature about human language,
as opposed to the sounds and gestures made by other animals, is that we use
words to refer to things and situations that are not actually present in front
of us. We use them to abstract from the reality that confronts us and to
describe other realities. And once we can do this to others, we can also do
it to ourselves, using the 'inner speech' that goes on inside our heads to
envisage new situations and new goals. The ability to do these things
cannot have arisen at one go. It must have grown up over many generations as our
remote ancestors learnt in practice, through labour, to abstract from and to
change immediate reality -- as they began to use sounds and gestures not merely
to indicate what was immediately in front of them or what they immediately
desired (which is what some animals do) but to indicate how they wanted to
change something and how they wanted others to help them. In tool use we know
there was a significant change from the ape to the early humans: the ape picks
up a stick or stone to use as a tool; the early humans of 2 million years ago
were already not only shaping the stick or stone, but using other stones to do
the shaping, and, undoubtedly, learning from each other how to do this. This
implies not merely conceptions about immediate things (food stuffs), but about
things once removed from immediacy (the tool that can get the food stuff) and
twice removed from immediate reality (the tool that can shape the tool that gets
the food stuff). And it also implies communication, whether by gesture or sound,
about things two stages removed from immediate conditions -- in effect, the
first use of abstract nouns, adjectives and verbs. The development of labour
and the development of communication thus, necessarily, go hand in hand. And
as they both develop, they both encourage the selection of those new genes which
made people more adept at both: the more agile hand, the larger brain, the
larynx that made a wider range of sounds.
"Such developments do not involve just quantitative changes. As the growth of
labour,
the growth of sociability and the growth of language reinforced each other,
encouraging the selection of a whole range of new genes, new networks of nerve
cells would emerge in the brain, making possible whole new ranges of interaction
between people and the world around them. This may well explain why suddenly
new species of humans developed that lived alongside and then superseded those
that went before, as with the successive emergence of
homo habilis,
of
homo
erectus, of the various sorts of
archaic human. Thus, it may well be the case that modern humans eventually
replaced the Neanderthals because they were able to communicate more quickly and
clearly with each other (although we will probably never know for certain if
this was so).
"So there has to be a recognition of how quantity turns into quality, of how
through successive changes animal life gave birth to that new form of life we
call 'human', which had a dynamic of its own, shaped by its labour and its
culture not by its genes. But this should not lead to a collapse into a new
idealism which sees culture and language (sic) as emerging from nowhere in the
fairly recent past. If such an approach is fashionable in some circles, it is
not because it can provide a scientific, materialist account of our origins, but
because its fits in with the much wider mood of the intelligentsia since the
late 1970s. In virtually every discipline there has been the attempt to separate
off the development of language and ideas from the development of material
reality. As in the days of Marx and Engels, the struggle for science is a
struggle against both idealism and mechanical materialism -- with idealism today
taking the form of 'post modernist' fashions, and mechanical materialism of
sociobiology." [Harman (1994),
pp.101-02. Bold emphases alone added.]
99.
A supporter of this site has outlined some of the weaknesses of Adaptationism --
along with references to work written by prominent anti-Adaptationists, in
response to Alex Callinicos's eulogy of Daniel Dennett's book -- in two
unpublished Essays. These were submitted to International Socialism
several years ago, but they weren't published as part of that
'debate'. As things turned out, that was fortuitous
since those articles were rather poor (as their author now admits)! I
might persuade him to post re-vamped, and hopefully improved, versions of
them at this site at a later date.
Ultra-Darwinian Adaptationism can be found, for example, in Dawkins (1982, 1988,
1996, 2003, 2004, 2006, 2010), Dennett (1995), and Williams (1966, 1996). It has
been subjected to searching criticism by more than a handful theorists; these
include Eldredge (1996, 2004), Gasper (2004, 2005), Gould (1980b, 1983b, 1983c,
1990b, 1990c, 1990d, 1992, 1997a, 1997b, 1997c, 2000, 2001, 2002a, 2006b), Gould
and Eldredge (1977), Gould and Lewontin (1979), Lewontin (2000a, 2000b),
McGarr (2003), Rose (2005), Rose and Rose (2000, 2010, 2012), Sober (1993a,
1993b), and Sober and Wilson (1998).
See also,
Dupré (2001, 2002, 2003a, 2003b, 2012), Barnes and Dupré (2008), Gould (1991b),
Kirschner and Gerhart (2005), Kropotkin (1939), Moss (2003), Ryan (2002) and
Woolfson (2000). [Also see this
letter written by Engels.]
100.
Of course, this is to judge
these pre-/non-human 'proto-linguists' by our own standards, but, how else are
we to apply the words "understand" and "language"? If we don't intend to use
these words as they are ordinarily used, but in some specialised sense, then,
as noted above, we won't in fact be addressing understanding (or,
indeed, language), but 'understanding', a term still in want of explanation. In
that case, we won't have explained anything that is relevant to the issues at
hand.
Update
January 2010: It has to be
admitted that
this BBC programme throws (slightly) into doubt some of the things alleged
about dogs in this part of the Essay. Even so, it is quite clear that the
intimate and protracted relationship between dogs and human beings (probably
going back now over 20,000 years) has (artificially) selected certain behaviours
which has in turn resulted in dogs resembling us in quite astonishing ways.
[This contradicts somewhat what I have to say in Note 101, but not in
relation to the acquisition of language.]
In addition,
our use of "understand" and related words allows for some flexibility.
[I
will say more about this in a later re-write of this Essay.]
101.
Brain size can't be the determining factor here, nor can the length of time
these animals have been in human company. As should seem obvious, cats and cows
have bigger brains than parrots, and have lived far closer to human beings for
far longer (as have rats and mice).
It could be
argued that infants don't engage in collective labour but they still learn to
speak, so why can't parrots and other animals? But, as pointed out in the main
body of this Essay, if mere proximity to human beings could account for
language, then we should expect cats, cows, sheep, rats, mice, gerbils, fleas,
bacteria and lice to be able to communicate with us. Clearly, being a human
being is a necessary but not sufficient condition for an individual to learn
language; having certain physical capacities and behavioural traits -- among
other things, these include a
CNS, the capacity to
mimic, curiosity, and a propensity to respond as other humans do to social and
inter-personal cues and stimuli (skills and propensities which animals lack),
etc. -- are also necessary. When these are present, a sufficient condition for
an infant to learn a language is for it to be raised and socialised in a speech
community that is based on collective labour. Parrots, dogs, and the
other organisms listed above plainly lack these necessary concomitants;
moreover, they can't engage in communal life. They may 'tag along', but that is
all they can do. This isn't so with human babies.
There is, of
course, much more to learning a language than the above suggests, but further
consideration of this topic would side-track this Essay. [On this, see Erneling
(1993), Greenspan and Shanker (2004), and Williams (1999).]
101a.
To be sure, an application Engels's first 'Law' might succeed in ruling out
several of the organisms listed in the main body of this Essay -- for example,
it might exclude the final four or five. [But, parrots in fact have smaller,
less developed brains than rats or sheep.]
102.
I examine the background to much of this
in detail in Essay Seven
Part One.
Oddly enough, Darwin also believed that dogs could understand certain
words and sentences:
"The
habitual use of articulate language is, however, peculiar to man; but he uses,
in common with the lower animals, inarticulate cries to express his meaning,
aided by gestures and the movements of the muscles of the face. This especially
holds good with the more simple and vivid feelings, which are but little
connected with our higher intelligence. Our cries of pain, fear, surprise,
anger, together with their appropriate actions, and the murmur of a mother to
her beloved child are more expressive than any words. That which distinguishes
man from the lower animals is not the understanding of articulate sounds, for,
as every one knows, dogs understand many words and sentences. In this
respect they are at the same stage of development as infants, between the ages
of ten and twelve months, who understand many words and short sentences, but
cannot yet utter a single word. It is not the mere articulation which is our
distinguishing character, for parrots and other birds possess this power. Nor is
it the mere capacity of connecting definite sounds with definite ideas; for it
is certain that some parrots, which have been taught to speak, connect
unerringly words with things, and persons with events.... The lower animals
differ from man solely in his almost infinitely larger power of associating
together the most diversified sounds and ideas; and this obviously depends on
the high development of his mental powers."
[Darwin
(1871), p.54. I owe this reference to
Aitchison (1996), p.79. Bold emphasis added.]
Conditioned
response is not, however, the same as understanding.
In fact,
anyone who reads this inferior work of Darwin's will see that he held far more
batty ideas than even Engels managed to accumulate.
Apparently,
a belief in parrot 'languages' isn't just shared by some DM-fans; cf., the
New Scientist,
08/11/2008, p.47, and Pepperberg (2008).
On this in general, see Bermúdez (2003), and Griffin
(2001).
[I will add several comments on
these two books at a later date.]
Also see the
review of Bermudez's book in Fodor (2003). While I don't endorse much of what
Fodor says, he manages to show why representationalists can't themselves agree
with many of the conclusions drawn about 'animal thought' in Bermudez's book.
Now, Harman
seems to agree with Engels that the origin of 'thought' post-dated (or at
least accompanied) the development of language, arguing that the opposite view
is in fact a throw-back to Idealist
theories about the human mind:
"Darwin assumed that the growth in brain size and intellect occurred before
the transition to two-legged walking and the use of hands to make tools. Engels
argued the sequence of events was the other way round. It was the freeing of the
hands that made co-operative labour possible on a scale unimaginable among apes,
and from this flowed the development of the brain. As the archaeologist
Bruce Trigger tells:
'Darwin was...constrained by reluctance
to challenge the primacy which the idealistic religious and philosophical
thinking of his time accorded to rational thought as a motor in bringing about
cultural change. Hence in discussing human evolution...it was the development of
the brain that in turn resulted in tool use.'
"By contrast:
'Engels argued that an increasingly terrestrial life-style had
encouraged...increasing use of tools. This caused natural selection in favour of
bipedalism
and manual dexterity as well as...a more complex division of labour: Tool making
and the development of a capacity for language the better to co-ordinate
productive activities led to the gradual transformation of the brain of an ape
into the that of a modern human being....'
"Darwin's view of the sequence of stages dominated research on human origins for
the best part of a century, leading to the belief that any 'missing link'
between apes and humans had a large brain but an ape-like posture and throwing
the whole study of our evolution askew. It encouraged acceptance for some 50
years of one of the great scientific frauds of all time -- the
Piltdown
affair, in which the skull of a man and
the jaw of an ape were presented as the remains of one of our earliest
ancestors. And it led to the refusal for 30 years to take seriously a genuine
find, the discovery in South Africa by
Raymond Dart
of the remains of an apelike creature which had adopted two legged walking. It
was not until the discovery by
Donald
Johanson in 1974 of a complete three and
half million year old skeleton with an ape sized brain and a erect posture that
Darwin's sequence was finally abandoned. Only then could archaeologists begin to
explain the evolution of one set of skeletons from another." [Harman (1994),
pp.85-86. Italic
emphasis in the original. Formatting and Quotation marks altered to conform with
the conventions adopted at this site. Links added. Harman is quoting Trigger
(1992), p.275. I haven't yet been able to check this source.]
This
suggests that only Idealists would want to argue that thought precedes
language, and thus that animals can think. In which case, it is perfectly
understandable that Darwin himself believed that animals could think, and that
they possessed, or could grasp, some form of language, just as it is
understandable that the majority of contemporary theorists appear to agree with
him.
In view of
this, it isn't easy to explain why Engels believed that certain animals
are capable of understanding speech --
except that we already know he made damaging concessions to
Idealism by appropriating far too
many forms-of-thought from Hegel (upside down or the 'right way up'), as well as
helping concoct DM, in the first place!
Once again, we see that ideas which properly belong to
HM have been
traduced by
those smuggled into Marxism by DM-fans.
103.
On this, see Dupré (1991, 2001, 2002, 2003a, 2003b), and Davidson (1975, 1982,
1997).
It is unfortunate that Mike Beaken's
analysis of this topic is a little too uncritical of several studies of animal
'communication'; cf., Beaken (1996), pp.44-59. In many ways, his view of
language and meaning are still stuck in a 17th
century time warp, which similarly holds much of Cognitive Science in its grip,
as has already been pointed out.
There appear
to be three competing views in this area concerning language and thought: (i)
That the difference between primates and humans is simply one of degree; (ii)
That human beings are unique in their capacity to use language and their ability
to think; and (iii) That it makes sense to attribute to animals some
capacity for thought.
I am here
using the rough classification found in Glock (2000), who defends option (iii),
and attributes it to Wittgenstein. I follow
Donald Davidson in this, who defends (ii) --, although it is also important
to add that I don't agree with everything Davidson says. [Davidson (1982,
1997).]
I would also
want to defend (ii) partly because (i) and (iii) undermine the idea that
language and thought are the product of collective labour and communal life, and
partly for the reasons Davidson gives (even if I would phrase the arguments
differently). On this topic in general, see Radick (2007) and Bickerton (2009).
[I hesitate
to include Guldberg (2010), since the latter
contains much that is inconsistent with the views defended in this Essay,
including the unsustainable idea that thought can be identified with "inner
speech" -- to say nothing of the offensive attitude it adopts toward animal
welfare (which is of a sort we have only come to expect from those associated
with
LM magazine and Spiked).]
104.
On this, see Broad and Wade (1985), pp.110-12. The latter was written over
twenty years ago, and, plainly, this area of science has moved on significantly
since then. But, many of the things Broad and Wade had to say are still
relevant. For a more recent assessment, see Pinker (1994), Chapter 11, and
Wallman (1992). Cf., also Guldberg (2010) (but read the caveat on the latter
book added to Note 103).
The survey article on 'animal
communication' at Wikipedia is also seriously compromised by the
usual confusion between signalling and linguistic communication. And, it seems,
so are several of the books and articles I have consulted on this topic -- for
example, Noble (1998). [Also
see Note 105 and Note 106, below.]
Update April 2010: Since writing the above, I have had the great
pleasure of reading Bickerton (2009), which subjects the idea that apes (and
hence other animals) can master language to some timely and well-aimed criticism
-- pp.73-91. It is also worth noting that Bickerton's analysis of Animal
Communication Systems [ACS] is highly conducive to the approach adopted in this
Essay, even if his account of the origin of language isn't. [More about that
later.]
105.
Even an otherwise sophisticated philosopher like
John Dupré
(referenced above) failed to notice the change of meaning that occurs when we
use typographically identical words to refer to animal 'communication'.
On the
difference between a system of signs and language itself, see
Note 23
and Note 85, above. [Also see, Bickerton
(2009).]
106.
"But, what about
dolphins?"
someone might ask. Certainly, dolphins can signal one another, as can
many other animals, but signalling isn't the same as linguistic communication.
Animal signals are highly specific stimulus response reactions. [Voloshinov half
makes this point himself; cf., Voloshinov (1973), p.101. On this, also see
Bickerton (2009).] To be sure, human beings can communicate by signalling, but
that is because they have a language into which these signals can be translated,
coded and then decoded. This isn't the case with animals -- unless, of course,
we suppose that animals have engaged in collective labour at some point in their
evolution. The same comment applies to bees and their "dance"
-- although, interestingly here, we do have an example of collective
labour!
However, according to an article in the New Scientist, recent research
has thrown into doubt much of what was once concluded about the "waggle dance"
of bees:
"When
Karl von Frisch
decoded the secret language of bees in 1946, even he couldn't
quite believe what he had found. Was it really possible for a creature with a
brain smaller than a pinhead to do something so clever? 'It is conceivable that
some people will not believe such a thing. Personally, I also harboured doubts
in the beginning,' he said in his
Nobel lecture
in 1973.
"Countless experiments later, the bee's
waggle dance has become an established scientific fact. Even schoolchildren are
taught that honeybees dance to tell hive-mates about good food sources. Most
researchers have long since stopped asking whether bees communicate in this way
and concentrated on working out how the dance -- among the most sophisticated
forms of animal communication outside of primates -- evolved. In the waggle
dance as described by von Frisch, a bee returning from a plentiful food source
heads for one of the hive's vertical honeycombs, where it runs in a figure of
eight. On the straight part of the run, the bee buzzes its wings and vibrates
its abdomen -- the 'waggle'.... Von Frisch's insight was that this middle
portion of the dance contains two crucial pieces of information about the
location of food.
"First of all, direction is given in
relation to the sun's position. If the food source can be found by flying
directly towards the sun, the middle of the dance is perfectly vertical. Any
angle to the right or left of the sun is communicated by running at the same
angle to the vertical. Distance, meanwhile, is communicated by the duration of
the waggle. The longer the bee waggles, the further away the food is: about 75
milliseconds is added to the waggle for every 100 metres. These two pieces of
information are what von Frisch dubbed 'the dance language'.
"The dance, which can go on for several
minutes, attracts other bees, which become increasingly excited as they watch
the dancer. Once a follower has observed five or six runs, it leaves the hive
and flies directly to the food, as if by satnav. This behaviour is seen as
crucial to a hive's success. Or that's how the story
goes. In recent years, some researchers have begun to suggest that the waggle
dance is too good to be true. While they accept that the dance contains
information about the location of food, they argue that its importance has been
massively overstated. A litany of recent evidence suggests that while bees can
follow the dance, they often fail to decode it properly, or ignore it completely
(Trends
in Ecology and Evolution, vol 24, p.242).
"'I think the atmosphere
is changing,' says
Christoph Grüter
at the University of Sussex in Brighton, UK. 'People are much more open to the
idea that the dance language is not that important.' In one study, Grüter and
his colleague Walter Farina of the University of Buenos Aires in Argentina found
that among bees that attend to a dance, 93 per cent ignore the instructions and
head to a food source they already know about (Proceedings
of the Royal Society B, vol 275, p 1321).
Similarly, bees often seem unable to follow the instructions. Some watch more
than 50 runs and make several sorties out of the hive but never find the food.
"The waggle dance also turns out to be
much less important to foraging success than has been suggested. Hives in which
the honeycombs are laid horizontally, preventing the bees from indicating
direction properly, don't fare any worse than others, except when natural food
sources are severely depleted....
"Instead, Grüter and colleagues believe the waggle dance is just one component
of a more complex system for directing foraging. The dance doesn't just convey
spatial information, they say, it also passes on odour clues and generally
motivates other bees to go foraging. Bees also glean information by observing
their colleagues flying off to gather food." [Williams
(2009). Quotation marks altered to
conform with the conventions convention adopted at this site. Several links
added, and paragraphs merged.]
Of course,
the reference to "information" above must be metaphorical, since information is
conveyed by indicative sentences which bees have yet to invent -- save we mean
by "information" something technical. [On this, see Bennett and Hacker (2008,
2022) and Bennett, et al (2007).] Moreover, as beekeepers pointed out in
subsequent letters sent in to the
New Scientist, researchers observe bees in lighted conditions, whereas in
the hive there is no light. This throws into even more doubt whether bees can
actually see these 'dances'!
It may be
wondered why a series of signals (like those found in bird song) couldn't be
seen as a language of some sort, or which can't have developed into one. That is
because, once more, there is a fundamental difference between signalling and
linguistic communication. The latter sort of communication is a social
phenomenon associated with a language into which signals can be translated. It
can't work the other way round. As such, a signalling system doesn't seem
capable of evolving into a language for reasons that are outlined in the
main body of
this Essay. [On this in general, see Bickerton (2009), once more. See also
Note 23
andNote 85
for some background details.]
107.
This topic was discussed more extensively in Essay Twelve
Part One.
See also Note 102
above.
107a. On this, see, for example,
Chase (1976), Goliszek (2003), Gould (1981), Montague (2002, 2008),
Rose, et al (1984), Rosen (2004),
and Whitman (2017). See also
this page over at Dropbox, and
this Guardian article on Hitler's debt to American Eugenicists, which
is a short summary of Black (2012).
108.
Cf., Callinicos (1996, 1997), and John Parrington's reply in Parrington (1996).
109.
Hence, it is disconcerting to see Harman endorse Chomsky's 'Nativist' theory of
language:
"The ability to use language is, according to the generally accepted theory of
Noam Chomsky, a genetically determined feature of all modern humans. The
connection between language, abstraction and human consciousness is spelt out in
the books written by the Russian Marxist Voloshinov during the 1920s, and in
part two, Labour, of the
Ontology by the Hungarian Marxist
Georg Lukács."
[Harman (2008), p.621, note 6. Harman is here referring to Voloshinov (1973),
and Lukács (1978). Harman has made a slight error here; Labour is part
three of Lukács's work.
Italic emphases in the original; link added.]
Unfortunately, Harman failed to notice that Chomsky's belief that language is
"genetically determined" completely undermines the Marxist view that language is
a
social product.
Yet, if
Voloshinov and
Lukács
are correct, Chomsky's theory can't be. That is, not unless we are
prepared to revise our ideas about human development and human genetics --
rejecting
Mendelian
theory in favour of
Lamarckism. Without such a revision there seems to be no way to account for
the geneticimprinting of the linguistic gains of one generation
(whether or not these had in turn been the result of the heroic abstractive
labours of our ancestors) for the benefit of -- and use by -- subsequent
generations. Of course, recent work in Epigenetics might suggest this
could happen, but it is far from clear whether linguistic development can
be imprinted in this way, or that such changes last beyond a handful of
generations. Epigenetic effects seem to be environmentally
motivated, anyway. Moreover, for them to be useful, these effects would have to
be expressed across an entirepopulation, and identically (or
nearly identically) in each individual, otherwise the problems outlined in the
main body of this Essay would kick in.
Moreover,
had they been presented with them, it is a pretty safe bet that Voloshinov and
Lukács
would have wanted to know how their social and abstractionist theories could
possibly be made consistent with Chomsky's ideas about the existence of a
"transformational grammar" (now "unbounded
Merge").
In fact, anyone who reads and then agrees with, say, Part Two of Voloshinov
(1973), would surely want to reject Chomsky's theory. To be sure, if there were
such a "transformational grammar" "unbounded merge") then the claim that
language is based on abstraction (heritable or not) would be completely
misguided. What need would there be for any sort of abstraction if language were
hard-wired in the brain? The ability to perform such 'abstractions' would in
that case be about as useful as a snorkel on a fish.
Of course,
it could be objected that Chomsky's theory simply commits socialists to the idea
that it is the grammatical
form underlying language that is subject to genetic constraint; abstraction
simply provides the content. But, as we have
seen,
abstractionist ideas make a nonsense of grammar by reconfiguring general terms
(in
predicative propositions, for example) as
abstract proper
names. Far from providing content to grammatical form, abstraction
obliterates it. This would mean, therefore, that the ability to abstract
would now be about as useful to human beings as a lead-lined
snorkel is on a fish!
"If there is a single structure of language which is inscribed in our genetic
inheritance, and if all social or cultural differences are, from [the]
standpoint of language, irrelevant, [this follows]: each member of the human
species is identical as regards the faculty of language, because language is
inscribed in her brain. Language must therefore be studied in the individual: we
are no longer dealing with a system that is external to individual speakers and
independent of them..., but with a set of individuals endowed with the same
capacities; and language, at least as conceived by the science of language, has
nothing to do with social existence. In other words, the logical consequence of
Chomskyan naturalism is
methodological individualism, which is
characteristic of liberal thinking in economics and politics.
"And there is [another] consequence. It
is clear that language, derived from a mutation that constituted the human
species, has no history, or only the quasi-frozen history of the evolution of
the species over the very long term and by leaps: human language has no history
in the strict sense, since it cannot have changed since its appearance at the
dawn of humanity. Any historical phenomenon, any linguistic change is
superficial, and irrelevant for the scientific study of the language faculty.
Or, rather, there is linguistic change, but only at the level of the individual
whose competence passes from an innate 'initial state' to a 'steady state', once
parameters have been triggered by the linguistic environment.
"The transition from infancy in the etymological sense to articulate language is
therefore not effected by learning (or only at a superficial level); and the
sole temporality of language is the retrospective time of recollection. The
child who acquires (but does not learn) speech is like the slave in the
Meno:
he remembers what he had always known, but did not yet know that he knew.
Chomsky's position at least possesses the merit of coherence in its idealism."
[Lecercle (2006), pp.21-22. Italic emphasis in the original; links
added.]
[The rest of
the same chapter continues a sharp critique of Chomsky's entire programme.]
As John
Parrington himself argued, rather perceptively:
"Of far more immediate importance for us is the fact that while Chomsky's theory
may be compatible with the language creativity of individuals, it is
nevertheless unable to explain where such individual creativity comes from in
the first place. In reality, the lack of space that Chomsky's theory leaves for
understanding the material source of individual creativity means that sincere
followers of his approach like
Pinker
have ended up reintroducing it in a form impenetrable to further study. Thus
Pinker believes that we think in something called 'mentalese',
which we must then translate into social language for the benefit of those
around us. But despite this being a fancy term for thought, it tells us nothing
about the material nature of thought, surely a necessity if we are to understand
consciousness.
"Both Chomsky and Pinker are similarly incapable of explaining the influence of
social change on language and thus of the development of language over time.
Both these flaws are linked to a much deeper and more fundamental one -- the
separation between individual thought and social language that we found in the
earlier theories of language." [Parrington
(1997), p.125. Links added.]
[However, we
have already seen that reliance on Voloshinov's theory creates similar problems
for Marxists -- to say nothing of the
Neo-Cartesian ideas retailed in the above quotation.]
Unfortunately for Harman, Chomsky now seems to believe that not only the form
but the content of language is innate. Cf., Lowe (2000), pp.188-89.] If
that is so, then perhaps, like
Jerry Fodor,
he thinks that our ancestors, tens of thousands of years ago, possessed the
concept "carburettor"
and "quark"!
[No joke, Fodor, for example, does indeed think this! Fodor (1998d),
p.28. See also Cattell (2006), Chapter Four. What is more,
Chomsky appears to do so, too! On this, see Chomsky (2000b), p.75,
Chomsky (2000a), p.61, and Knight (2018), Chapter 18.
Here is
Chomsky:
"Furthermore, there is good reason to suppose that
the argument is at least in substantial measure correct even for such words as
carburettor and bureaucrat, which, in fact, pose the familiar problem
of poverty of stimulus if we attend carefully to the enormous gap between what
we know and the evidence on the basis of which we know it.... However
unsurprising the conclusion may be that nature has provided us with an innate
stock of concepts, and that the child's task is to discover their labels, the
empirical facts appear to leave open few other possibilities." [Chomsky (2000a),
pp.65-66. Italic emphases in the original; spelling modified to UK
English.]
In response,
Hilary Putnam pointed out that if we, or children, had such concepts that had
been fixed in the Pleistocene, then:
"evolution would have had to be able to anticipate
all the contingencies of future physical and cultural environments. Obviously it
didn't and couldn't do this." [Putnam (1988), p.15.]
Daniel Dennett added:
"Thus Aristotle had the concept of an airplane in
his brain, and also the concept of a bicycle -- he just never had occasion to
use them!... [Maybe] Aristotle had an innate airplane concept, but did he also
have a concept of wide-bodied jumbo jet? What about the concept of an
APEX fare Boston/London round trip?" [Dennett (1991), pp.192-93. Italic
emphases in the original.]
Perhaps children 75,000 years ago had the words "π
meson", "2-4-dinitophenylhudrazine",
and "Andromeda
Galaxy" in their heads, too? But, which spellings of "labour"/"labor" and
"colour"/"color" did they possess? And did they have
"K2", "Mount
Godwin-Austen" or"Chhogori"
in there, too? What about the names of non-existent objects and substances, such
as
"Phlogiston",
"Caloric"
and "Quintessence"?
And if a child is taught to say a totally made-up word, did it already exist in
her head? So was "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious"
imprinted in the human brain back in the Pleistocene long before it was
'invented' (or, re-discovered!) in Mary
Poppins?
So many
questions, so few answers.
On Fodor and
Chomsky, see Cowie (2002), Glock (2009), and Williams (1999). For Fodor's
criticism of Pinker, and much else besides, see Fodor (2001). Pinker's views can
be found in Pinker (1994, 1997, 2003, 2007). Pinker (1997) was critically
reviewed in
Blackburn (2002), where several of his key assumptions were shown to be
woefully false.
Finally, we
have already
seen
that Chomsky accepts the view that language is primarily a vehicle for
thought, not communication.
[I will add several more comments here
on Chomsky, Pinker and Fodor in a later re-write of this Essay. However, no one
should assume I agree with everything Cowie says in her articles and books. Her
philosophy is openly empiricist, which philosophy, as I have shown (here)
is both non-sensical and incoherent.]
110.
To be specific:
Helena Cronin. [Cf., Harman (1994), p.187, n.59.] Cronin is the theorist who
(so we are told) was almost single-handedly responsible for making
EP -- the recent reincarnation of
Sociobiology
-- 'respectable', at least in the UK. On that, see this Guardian
article (from 28/08/1999). Doubters are also encouraged to read Cronin
(1993), and then the thoroughly reactionary
Cronin (2005). A brief outline of the ideological divide between left and
right in this area can be found in
Brown (1999a), but in more detail in Brown (1999b), and Malik (2001). See
also Hill (2000) for some of the more unsavoury aspects of
EP, including
Thornhill and Palmer's outrageous theory that
rape is 'natural'! [On this in general, see Prindle (2009). Also see Fiona
Cowie's remarks,
quoted earlier.]
However, the
scientific credibility of Sociobiology sank dramatically after the publication
of Kitcher (1985); EP might follow suite because of Buller (2005) and Richardson
(2007). Unfortunately, however, that
outcome is far less certain in view of the hegemonic status EP has assumed over
the last fifteen or twenty years. [Buller (2007).] In fact, since this paragraph
was first written five years ago, Buller's work has bounced off the collective
EP-skull, and seems to have had little discernible effect.
Practically
every TV programme these days that strays into the area of 'human nature' and
our evolutionary past seems to take EP's nostrums for granted -- including
Inclusive Fitness -- along with the despicable
idea that the
human foetus and placenta, for example, are a parasites! An excellent
example of this (which featured the repeated unchallenged and off-hand reference
to the foetus as just such a parasite) occurred in House,
the TV programme, Series One, Episode One,
Maternity, and in Series Three, Episode Seventeen,
Fetal Position (with an aside thrown in for good measure that a fetus is
in effect a "tumour"). [The same objectionable opinion has also cropped up, for
example, in Prasad (2012), p.127.]
In Series
Three, Episode Seven of the same programme, House -- Son of
Coma Guy -- one of the characters,
Dr
James Wilson, expressed the opinion that "We have an evolutionary incentive
to sacrifice ourselves for our offspring, our tribe, our friends, to keep them
safe...". Again, this went unchallenged as if it represented a well-established
scientific fact. Indeed, the main character,
Dr Gregory
House, regularly spouts EP-nostrums as if they were scientific truth, all
unchallenged.
Update June
2011: The BBC has just shown
a documentary series of three, one hour films with the unlikely title
All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace, by
Adam Curtis.
The third and final episode in the series -- The Monkey In The Machine And The
Machine In The Monkey
-- was devoted to the work of
William Hamilton and
George
Price (two of the god-fathers of Sociobiology and EP), alongside the theory
of Inclusive Fitness. The upshot of all this was the thoroughly right-wing
conclusion that, as the opening credits revealed, "No one believes you can
change the world for the better any more." This claim was based on the supposed
fact that we are all simply survival machines for our genes, and so our actions
are ultimately determined by our genetic make-up. Apparently, so we were told,
these genes will always act to maximise their own survival at whatever the cost.
Of course, this is just a secular version of the religious myth that there is a
fixed order to nature (and our nature, too) that we can't alter, which tale is
then augmented with another religious fable: that we are all dominated by
superhuman forces over which we have no control -- so we can just forget about socialism,
can't we?
No
coincidence either that the BBC ran this programme at the beginning of the
latest round of
attacks on the Welfare State in the UK (pushed through by the
Tory/Liberal Democrat Coalition) -- at the same time as they ran a series
called
Saints and Sinners, following an earlier series called Saints and
Scroungers (repeated many times, each season featuring twenty episodes),
which drew a stark contrast between 'benefit cheats' ("Sinners"/"Scroungers")
and 'charity workers' ("Saints"). Note the overtly religious symbolism!
[In fact,
the BBC regularly repeats this series; it is now (June 2013) into its fifth
season, with a sixth following on in 2014. If programming were correlated with
the amount of money lost to the tax-payer, there would by now have been
somewhere between 75 and 450(!!) similar series on rich tax dodgers -- i.e.,
between 1500 and 9000 episodes! 'Benefit fraud' costs the exchequer
approximately £900 million a year (2009 estimate); in
2013, the estimate was £1.3 billion. Estimates of the size of the Tax Gap
(the difference between what the UK Treasury expects to receive each year and
what it actually collects) vary from anywhere between
£30 billion and just short of
£70 billion -- some put it at
well over £90
billion. Indeed, the European Union is reported to lose
over a trillion eurosannually in this way! Globally, estimates put
this figure at approximately
one sixth of Gross World Product [GWP] -- in 2012, GWP was put at over
$84
trillion. This means that approximately $14 trillion is lost to rich tax
dodgers and tax avoiding/evading corporations each year! The extent of these
scams was leaked in 2015 via the Panama
Papers, and then again in 2017, via the Paradise
Papers.]
The BBC has
never run a series on tax dodgers, avoiders or evaders, even though the odd
programme here and there covers this topic. The latter are mainly short news
items (which report on other groups protesting tax dodgers), or they form
part of a comedy programme (for example, a short sketch on BBC Three's,
The Revolution Will Be Televised).This
UK Parliamentary Report might suggest a reason for the BBC's selective
blindness in this regard.
This article shows that in the UK, although tax fraud is fifteen times
greater than benefit fraud, the media give the former 600% more coverage than
the latter.
Indeed,
these regressive developments in Biology (and cultural life in general) aren't
unconnected with the resurgence of right-wing, neo-liberal ideologies over the
last 50 years -- as Fiona Cowie
pointed out, earlier. [Lewontin and Levins (2007), pp.59-63 is also
particularly good on this.]
Even so, the
New Scientist ran an article on
Inclusive Fitness back in 2010:
"An expectant silence has
descended on the small room in the Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and
Sciences in Amsterdam.
Alan Grafen,
a theoretical biologist from the University of Oxford, is taking his time to set
up his presentation. When he's ready, he denounces three of his colleagues as
'unscholarly' and 'transparently wrong', and wonders what could have led such
'talented, honest biologists' to be so 'misguided'.
"It's day one of a
meeting on the evolution of conflict and cooperation,
and exchanges are fierce. At stake is one of the pillars of modern evolutionary
biology: the theory of inclusive fitness, which explains how altruistic
behaviour can spread through a population. Altruism, in this context, refers to
any behaviour which helps the chances of survival of others at the expense of
the altruistic individual. Honeybees, which sting intruders to protect their
hive and sign their own death warrant in the process, are a classic example.
"The conference is the
latest stage of a
controversy that has been raging
over the work of three Harvard University scientists: mathematical biologists
Martin Nowak
and
Corina Tarnita, and social insect guru and father of sociobiology
Edward O. Wilson. Last month, they published a paper in Nature
attacking inclusive fitness (vol
466, p.1057). The details of their attack are
technical and mathematical, but the consequences could be far-reaching. They say
inclusive fitness is irrelevant to the real world and want to replace it with a
series of equations that could describe the evolution of cooperation in far more
detail than ever before.
"Their
statements have infuriated many of their colleagues, including Grafen, who say
their approach has just as many problems as inclusive fitness.
The story dates back to 1955, when British geneticist
J. B. S.
Haldane
was asked if he would risk his life to save another. He supposedly replied that
he would only do so to save at least two brothers or eight cousins, reasoning
that this would preserve enough copies of his genes to justify his own death.
This idea -- that animals are more likely to show altruistic behaviour towards
individuals they are related to -- is called kin selection.
"Haldane's colleague
William Hamilton later drafted a mathematical description of the phenomenon,
known as inclusive fitness, which assigns numerical values to the costs and
benefits of an animal's actions. In theory, inclusive fitness makes it possible
to calculate the extent of the spread of a given altruistic behaviour -- such as
staying with your parents to raise your siblings -- through a population.
Hamilton's maths has been used for decades by biologists studying cooperation in
animals and was a major inspiration for Richard
Dawkins's
The Selfish Gene.
"The problem, say Nowak and Tarnita, is
that the calculations just don't work in the real world because they rely on a
limiting set of conditions that nature does not stick to. For example, they are
only valid for interactions between pairs of animals, which is fine for solitary
species whose individuals rarely meet, but no use in studying thousands of ants
sharing a colony. What's more, they do not work for populations that are under
strong pressure to evolve. These and other limitations, Tarnita says, mean that
the maths of inclusive fitness is not relevant to the real world. Instead, she
says biologists should use the models of population genetics, which focus on
interactions between different gene variants. These models avoid the messiness
of predicting the consequences of behaviour and don't require any dubious
assumptions.
"Tarnita has shown that by using
standard population genetics equations, it is possible to produce an
all-encompassing model. In Amsterdam, she excitedly explained that when she
plugged Hamilton's conditions into her model, its equations simplified to those
of inclusive fitness. Hamilton's maths, she concludes, describes a special case
of a broader model of how all behaviours evolve: it is not wrong, but limited.
Nowak points out that, in thousands of insect species, daughters leave the nest
despite being as closely related to each other as the workers in an ant colony.
This suggests there is some factor other than kin selection keeping workers in
the nest and driving altruistic behaviour.
"Some biologists have
embraced the new ideas:
Michael Doebeli
of the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada calls
them 'a great step in the right direction'. But according to Grafen and many
others, they are nothing new. They say theoretical biologists have always known
that inclusive fitness was an approximation, though this seems not to have
filtered through to experimental biologists, who have tended to take it as
gospel. What's more, in order to use Nowak and
Tarnita's model to study the evolution of a behaviour, you would need to know an
enormous amount about the genes involved -- their identity, location and
interactions.
"'Lunacy!' cries Grafen. Even if you
knew all of this, he says, it would only illuminate the process for one species.
So it would be better to stick with inclusive fitness, rough and ready though it
is, because it will enable biologists to make predictions about how various
species should behave -- and indeed already has. Many of his peers agree,
arguing that inclusive fitness should still be used as a 'rule of thumb'.
"The argument seems set to run and run. As New Scientist went to press,
more than 140 leading biologists, including several who were present in
Amsterdam, had signed a letter to Nature criticising Nowak's paper --
though the journal would 'neither confirm nor deny' that it had received the
letter. Nowak seems to have been taken aback by the fuss, saying: 'I didn't
expect our work to be so controversial.'" [New
Scientist, 09/09/2010. Quotation
marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site; some links
added. Several paragraphs merged.]
[Given the
reception that challenges to Scientific Orthodoxy have always received, it is in
fact Nowak's reaction that is the surprising feature, here!]
The above
was followed a few months later by the following interview with Nowak:
"Using mathematics to tackle some of biology's biggest questions, Martin
Nowak has concluded that an ability to cooperate is the secret of humanity's
success. He talks to Michael Marshall about drawing fire from Richard
Dawkins....
"Why are you so fascinated by our ability to help each other out?
"Cooperation is interesting because it essentially means that you help someone
else, someone who is a potential competitor. You reduce your own success in
order to increase the success of somebody else. Why should you do that? Why
should natural selection favour such behaviour? To answer these questions I use
evolutionary dynamics, evolutionary game theory and experimental tests of human
behaviour.
"You say there are five different ways in which we cooperate that give us an
edge, in terms of natural selection. Tell me about them.
"The first one is called direct reciprocity. This is when individuals have
repeated interactions, so if I help you now, you may help me later. There is
also indirect reciprocity, which takes place in groups. If I help you, somebody
else might see our interaction and conclude that I'm a helpful person, and help
me later. That's a reciprocal process relying on reputation.
"The third mechanism is when neighbours help each other -- cooperators survive
in clusters. This is called spatial selection, and it plays an important role,
not only for people but for bacteria, animals and plants. Then there is
group
selection: it may be that our group of
cooperators is better off than another group of defectors: here selection acts
on two levels, because in our group there is more cooperation.
"Group selection has had a tricky reputation, and has been attacked by
evolutionary biologists. Do you think it has now been rehabilitated?
"The introduction of the concept of group selection, some 40 years ago, was
imprecise. But recent mathematical models explain very clearly when group
selection can promote the evolution of cooperation. There must be competition
between groups and migration rates should be low.
"Unless I've lost count, there should be one mechanism left.
"The last one is
kin
selection, which can occur when you help
a close relative.
"You published a paper on kin selection last year that caused a bit of
controversy.
"I have no problem with kin selection when it is properly formulated. My
criticism is directed against the current use of inclusive fitness theory, which
is the dominant mathematical approach used to study aspects of kin selection.
"Can you explain?
"Inclusive fitness theory assumes that the personal fitness of an individual can
be partitioned into components caused by individual actions. This restrictive
assumption implies that inclusive fitness theory is a limited approach that
cannot be used to describe typical situations that arise in social evolution.
The standard theory of natural selection does not make such a limiting
assumption. In that recent paper we showed that inclusive fitness theory is a
subset of the standard theory.
"Inclusive fitness is a key concept of evolutionary biology. No wonder that
many biologists, including Richard Dawkins, reacted negatively when you attacked
it (New Scientist, 2 October 2010, p.8). Do you think people are now coming
around to it?
"I feel that it is beginning to be appreciated. I would say the negative
response rests on a misinterpretation of the paper. People think that we are
saying relatedness is unimportant, but this is not at all what we said.
"People who are open-minded are beginning to realise that the results of our
paper are beautiful: simple mathematical models based on standard natural
selection are sufficient to explain the evolution of
eusociality
or other phenomena in social evolution. The strange mathematical contortions of
inclusive fitness theory are unnecessary. In other words if you are interested
in a mathematical description of evolution, a situation can never arise in which
you would need an inclusive fitness approach.
"You have also been involved in some other big debates. Can you tell me about
your work on punishment?
"Many people feel that punishment is a good thing, that it leads to human
cooperation. So their idea is that unless you cooperate with me, I punish you.
It might even cost me something to punish you, but I do it because I want to
teach you a lesson. One cannot deny that punishment is an important component of
human behaviour, but I am sceptical about the idea that it's a positive
component.
"I have analysed the role of punishment using mathematics and experiments. I
think that most uses of punishment are very much for selfish interests, such as
defending your position in the group. Punishment leads to retaliation and
vendettas. It's very rare that punishment is used nobly.
"Over the years you've applied mathematics to a lot of different areas of
biology. Is it your aim to put the whole field on a mathematical footing?
"Yes. It has happened in many disciplines of science. It's a kind of maturation
process. Without a mathematical description, we can get a rough handle on a
phenomenon but we can't fully understand it. In physics, that's completely
clear. You don't just talk about gravity, you quantify your description of it.
The beautiful thing about mathematics is that it can decide an argument. Some
things are fiercely debated for years, but with mathematics the issues become
clear....
"Profile
"Martin Nowak is professor of mathematics and biology at Harvard University. He
has a PhD from the University of Vienna, Austria, became professor of
theoretical biology at the University of Oxford aged 32, then moved to Princeton
University and later to Harvard. His book SuperCooperators: Altruism,
evolution, and why we need each other to succeed, co-authored with Roger
Highfield, New Scientist's editor, is out this month." [Italic
emphases in the original; some links added. Bold added.]
[The book
mentioned above is in fact Nowak and Highfield (2012). (See the Review in
Appendix A.) I hasten to add
that I have quoted these passages from the
New Scientist not because I agree with everything they contain (indeed,
Nowak specifically accounts for cooperation and altruism in Neo-Darwinian terms,
which, of course, means that there is no such thing as altruism -- as we
might ordinarily understand this term --, there are instead more complex
mechanisms that ensure the maximal survival of offspring/genes; on this, see
Stove (2006), pp.115-247), but because it shows that the theory that is current
orthodoxy among EP-ers is likely to go the way of most other theories we have
witnessed in the history of science -- i.e.,
down the tubes.]
On EP, see
also Buller (2005, 2007), Dupré (2001, 2002, 2003a, 2003b, 2012), Barnes and
Dupré (2008), Gasper (2004,
2005),
and Richardson (2007). Of course, the 'philosophical foundations' of the
collective slander on the human race that is EP had already been exposed, and
then demolished, in Stove (2006). [Readers unfamiliar with David Stove's
writings should, however, read
this warning.] See
also the works listed in Note 99,
above. Earlier, left-leaning attacks on Sociobiology can be found in, for
example, Arditti, Brennan, and Cavrak (1980), Caplan (1978), and Sahlins (1976).
Chomsky
is himself ambivalent about the possibility of there being a Darwinian account
of the origin of "grammar" -- in fact, and from what little he has said, it
seems his view of the origin of language resembles the fable recorded in the
Book of Genesis. Whereas that myth sees language as a gift from 'God',
Chomsky perhaps sees it as a gift from outer space,
viacosmic rays! To be sure, Chomsky did add this rider: "This is a story
not to be taken literally" (a bit like the Bible story, too, then!), but he went
on to add the following:
"But it may be closer to reality than
many other fairy tales that are told about evolutionary processes, including
language....
"Specifically, the theory that some time
ago there were primates with pretty much our sensorimotor and
conceptual-intentional systems, but no language faculty, and some natural event
took place that brought about a mutation that installed a language faculty. Say,
a cosmic ray shower, or something that took longer, like the process that caused
a bone of the reptilian jaw to migrate to the inner ear, where it is wonderfully
designed for the use of language -- apparently something that has been going on
for about 160 million years....
"How did the basic principles get into
the genetic programme? Such questions go vastly beyond current understanding,
not just for language, but even for much simpler biological systems." [Chomsky
(2000b), pp.4, 61-62.]
So, this is
in fact a "fairy tale" that Chomsky seems to take pretty seriously, despite his
disclaimer. [On this unfortunate use of the word "designed", see Jerry Fodor's
comments,
quoted earlier. Chomsky's theory
of the 'semi-miraculous' origin of language, via a massive mutation of some
sort, certainly helps account for Fodor's
criticisms of natural selection,
since that process can't account for rapid, massive changes like this.]
Be this as
it may, we
have evidence from the fossil record that
charts the changes in the inner ear that Chomsky mentions, but where is the
evidence for the massive mutation that led to the formation of the
"language faculty"? [The first of these links to a PDF.] Naturally, exactly the
same mutagen with the
same effects must have been present and operative on several primates (or
proto-humans) all at once, or this new faculty would have been useless. This is,
of course, independent of the insurmountable difficulties --
rehearsed earlier in this
section -- faced by this approach to giving a Darwinian account of the
origin of language.
It
could be objected that
the ability to
think -- or, rather, the ability to use language, which resulted from
this massive mutation -- would have helped the individual concerned survive much
better and thus pass on more of his/her genes. Hence, these genes would enter
into and pass through the local population, improving its fitness. However, as
pointed out in the main body of this Essay, such an individual would have woken
up one morning uttering strange noises she couldn't understand (rather like
Brother John, mentioned
earlier), or she would begin 'thinking'
strange 'thoughts' she had never encountered before and could not, therefore,
comprehend. These days, this individual would be classified as mentally ill. So,
if anything, this would hinder her survival.
Imagine how
you, dear reader, would respond if, one day, you woke up and began to 'think' in
a language you didn't already know (say
Navajo,
or even,
Klingon). You would most likely conclude (that is, if you could even
understand yourself, or work out what the hell was going on!) that you were
going mad. But, you already have the advantage of knowing a modern language
(English!), and people around you who speak a language. This poor proto-linguist
didn't have a language the day before it was stricken in this way.
How would or could he/she cope?
How, too,
would those around you (friends, relatives, neighbours, co-workers, strangers,
etc.) respond today if you began to speak, say, in Klingon, and nothing but
Klingon. [I am, of course, assuming that you don't belong to a Star Trek
fan club, and that none of those around you understand Klingon! Otherwise, you
can substitute for it any other language not known to you or to those around
you.] Would that
improve your chances of finding a mate with whom you could reproduce? [Even
Star Trek geeks would tend to shun you if you only ever spoke in Klingon
and nothing else.
It isn't easy chatting up a member of the opposite sex if all you can do it
mutter incomprehensible noises at them.] Clearly, to ask such questions is to
answer them. But, unlike you, dear reader (whether or not you spout Klingon or
some other little known tongue) this afflicted creature would be surrounded
by those who had no language at all. If anything, they would run away from
this odd individual, screaming. Alternatively, they would simply banish,
ostracise, or even kill her/him. There wasn't much 'care in the community' one
hundred thousand years ago. Precious little mating would be going on with an
individual that socially-challenged, either. This is quite apart from the
fact that
most mutations are harmful. That is even more true with respect to large
mutations. Moreover, far as I am aware, no mutation of this sort has ever been
observed in human beings. Finally,
Cosmic Rays are hardly conducive to human health and well being.
However,
with respect to the supposed Darwinian origin of language, Chomsky's 'followers'
are much less cautious. On that, see Pinker (1994), Bickerton (1990, 1995), and
Calvin and Bickerton (2001). [Bickerton has in fact changed his mind somewhat of
late; see Bickerton (2009).]
[I will add several comments about
several of the above authors in a later re-write of this Essay.]
Perhaps the
tide is beginning to turn against Chomsky's views. For example, here is the
opening paragraph of a recent review of one of Chomsky's latest books:
"The
Science of Language,
published in the sixth decade of Noam Chomsky's
linguistic career, defends views that are visibly out of touch with recent
research in formal linguistics, developmental child psychology, computational
modeling (sic) of language acquisition, and language evolution. I argue that the
poor quality of this volume is representative of the serious shortcomings of
Chomsky's recent scholarship, especially of his criticism of and contribution to
debates about language evolution. Chomsky creates the impression that he is
quoting titbits of a massive body of scientific work he has conducted or is
intimately familiar with. Yet his speculations reveal a lack of even basic
understanding of biology, and an unwillingness to engage seriously with the
relevant literature. At the same time, he ridicules the work of virtually all
other theorists, without spelling out the views he disagrees with. A critical
analysis of the 'Galilean method' demonstrates that Chomsky uses appeal to
authority to insulate his own proposals against falsification
by empirical counter-evidence. This form of discourse bears no serious relation
to the way science proceeds.
"The
Science of Language: Interviews with James McGilvray,
henceforth The Science of Language, published in the sixth decade of Noam
Chomsky's linguistic career, should have been an impressive summary of the
achievements of one of the greatest intellectuals of our time. It is not.
Chomsky's scholarship has arguably been slowly deteriorating over decades, and
this volume is altogether representative of the problem. I shall argue in this
review article that uncritical acceptance of Chomsky's work despite its steadily
declining quality has been doing the field considerable damage."
[Behme (2014b), pp.671-72.
The work being reviewed is Chomsky (2012a). See also,
Pullum (2012).]
110a.
By this I don't mean that genes have absolutely nothing to do with
language (since that would be absurd!), only that any attempt to reduce language
to our genetic makeup is thoroughly misguided. However, the fine detail
connected with these claims will emerge as this main sub-section unfolds.
Admittedly,
Harman's later remarks are exceedingly brief, but they do express the state of
current orthodoxy in the relevant sciences (at least, as it developed throughout
the 1990s), and so will be examined for that reason alone. [On the early stages
of this change, see Harris (1995).]
111.
As noted earlier, several rival theories will be examined here at a later
date.
112.Unfortunately, this is already a contestable move! In order for a sound
to count as a word (as opposed to a mere noise), let alone a name,
a sophisticated linguistic and social background must already be in place. [See
Essay Three Part One, and
Stroud (1991, 1996).] In that case, all the serious problems I am about to
highlight concerning the hypothesised transition from the use of 'names' to the
use of 'names' and 'verbs' apply equally, if not more so, to the
invention of 'names'. [On this see Baker and
Hacker (2005a), pp.113-28, 227-49, Schulte (2009), and Hanna and Harrison
(2004), pp.63-158. However, I hesitate to recommend wholeheartedly the latter
work since its authors have adopted the misguided 'causal
theory' of names.] See also Note
118a, below.
Of course,
the material in the main body of this Essay doesn't pretend to be a summary of
Chomsky's views, merely of the implications of Harman's ideas.
Even so, the
same sort of questions
could be asked of Chomsky's sketchy theory.
As noted above, he seems
to believe that a language gene emerged (relatively) suddenly in an individual,
not a group -- and was fully formed, too, like
Athena
bursting forth from the head of Zeus --, which later spread through the relevant
population, and which was then co-opted to form a full-blown language. [On that,
see Chomsky (2007), and
here. See also Note 114a,
below.] It is relatively clear from this that Chomsky believes this development
was originally a
pre-adaptation of some sort, or perhaps even an
exaptation.
[See also here.]
In that case, many of the conclusions reached in this part of the Essay will
also apply to Chomsky's theory -- perhaps more so, since, for Chomsky, an entire
language (and not just verbs and nouns) seems to have emerged suddenly, all
at once!
113.
W1 is assumed
to contain only 'nouns', whereas W2
is limited to 'nouns' and 'verbs' so that several historical and conceptual
possibilities may be explored. It isn't being suggested here that
language actually developed like this, or that the use of 'nouns' in fact
preceded that of 'verbs' -- or even that we will ever be able to say what
actually happened. Indeed, describing a system that uses only 'proto-nouns' as a
language is bizarre in itself. [Incidentally, the words "noun" and "verb" are in
scare quotes since it is controversial whether either could be so described
without the other, or even that they can be pictured this way in a
proto-language. Much of this was covered in Essay Three
Part One.]
114.
Recall that MM was the first to innovate in their group. If so, how
would MM
even understand him/herself?MM would wake up one morning uttering
strange sounds they had never heard before. MM would thus confront
him/herself as a foreign language speaker now confronts us today, only much more
so since we alreadyhave a language. No one had a language back
then. [However, see Note 117a.]
114a0.
Of course, mutations can spread through a population quite rapidly if there is
horizontal gene transfer, or the population descends from a
single organism or from several that possess the mutation -- as happens, for
example, in
bacterial populations -- but that is a totally different matter. Here, we
are postulating a set of simultaneous, identical massive neural and
psychological, and possibly anatomical changes induced in a group of
highly complex organisms. As far as I am aware, this has never been observed
anywhere. Nor is it credible.
114a.
In fact, as we have seen, Chomsky argues that this genetic change appeared in a
single individual
suddenly. This happy
individual somehow had the capacity to form complex thoughts (but, how this is
even
conceivable Chomsky left entirely mysterious (on this, see
Behme (2014b), pp.766-69)),
which gradually spread through the breeding population:
"The core principle of language,
unbounded Merge, must have arisen from
some rewiring of the brain, presumably the effect of some small mutation. Such
changes take place in an individual, not a group. The individual so endowed
would have had many advantages: capacities for complex thought, planning,
interpretation, and so on. The capacity would be transmitted to offspring,
coming to dominate a small breeding group...." [Chomsky (2007), pp.23-24.]
"Small mutation"? Really? This 'just-so' story is even worse than Harman's!
Quite apart from the fact that the origin of complex thought in a single
individual isn't possible (the supposition that it might be is
reminiscent of the
Robinsonades
that Marx lampooned),
its sudden and miraculous emergence is no less implausible.
Indeed,
Terrence Deacon had this to say about such fanciful ideas:
"This reminds me of a wonderful piece of modern mythology from a recent film
entitled
Short
Circuit. A sophisticated robot is
suddenly transformed from a mechanism that 'just runs programs' into a
conscious, self-aware being as a result of being struck by lightning. The power
surge damaged its circuits in just the right way.... As a cinematic device, the
bolt of lightning accomplishes two important things. The catastrophic and
unpredictable nature of lightning provided the vehicle for invoking drastic and
unprecedented change, and its intrinsically chaotic -- and by tradition,
miraculous -- character obviates any possibility of describing exactly what
alterations changed a computer mechanism into a human-type mind.... As an
allegory of human mental evolution, it offers a paradigm example of what
biologists call 'hopeful monster' theory [which is now one aspect of 'Saltation'
theory -- RL]: the evolutionary theorist's counterpart to divine intervention,
in which a freak mutation just happens to produce a radically different and
serendipitously better-equipped organism. The single most influential 'hopeful
monster' theory of human language evolution was offered by the linguist Noam
Chomsky...." [Deacon (1997), p.35. Quotation marks altered to conform with
the conventions adopted at this site. Italic emphasis in the original.
Links added; paragraphs merged.]
As we have
already seen, Chomsky appeals to an even more surreal agent of this
fortuitous mutation, cosmic rays!
"But it may be closer to reality than
many other fairy tales that are told about evolutionary processes, including
language.... Specifically, the theory that some time ago there were primates
with pretty much our sensorimotor and conceptual-intentional systems, but no
language faculty, and some natural event took place that brought about a
mutation that installed a language faculty. Say, a cosmic ray shower, or
something that took longer, like the process that caused a bone of the reptilian
jaw to migrate to the inner ear, where it is wonderfully designed for the use of
language -- apparently something that has been going on for about 160 million
years.... How did the basic principles get into the genetic programme? Such
questions go vastly beyond current understanding, not just for language, but
even for much simpler biological systems" [Chomsky (2000b), pp.4, 61-62.
Paragraphs merged.]
Of course,
only those
who confuse science fiction with genuine science will find the
'miraculous origin of language theory' plausible -- on a par with events in
Mary
Shelley's
Frankenstein, Or The Modern Prometheus. [The 'monster' stitched together
in this novel, as it has been depicted in many films since, was also struck by
lightning, which miraculously brings it to life.
Chapter Two of the novel in fact hints that electricity is the vivifying
power at work in this case.] This is quite apart from the fact that Chomsky
offers no evidence that a single mutation (or set of them) has ever had, or
now has had, or is having, such profound consequences. [On this, also see Note 117.]
Independently of the points raised in the main body of this Essay (and
earlier) -- concerning the
fact that such an individual would find him/herself uttering strange noises or
experiencing novel 'thoughts' one day that neither they nor anyone else would or
could understand (in which case, "planning" would be of little use because these
"plans" couldn't be communicated to anyone), hence they would have no
'survival value' --, this move by Chomsky constitutes a major concession to
Idealism since he has 'thought' preceding
language. For Chomsky, that might not be a decisive, or even a relevant,
objection, but no Marxist could agree with him.
It might be
countered that for Chomsky, thought doesn't precede language, it is coincident
with it. In fact, Chomsky argues as follows:
"If so, then it
appears that language evolved, and is designed, primarily as an instrument of
thought. Emergence of unbounded
Merge in human evolutionary history provides what has been called a 'language
of thought,' an internal generative system that constructs thoughts of
arbitrary richness and complexity, exploiting conceptual resources that are
already available or may develop with the availability of structured expressions.
If the relation to the interfaces is asymmetric, as seems to be the case, then
unbounded Merge provides only a language of thought, and the basis for ancillary
processes of externalization." [Chomsky
(2007), p.22. This links to a PDF, access to which is open, but
requires free registration.]
"It seems that we must either deprive the notion
'communication' of all significance, or else we must reject the view that the
purpose of language is communication.... It is difficult to say what 'the
purpose' of language is, except, perhaps, the expression of thought, a rather
empty formulation." [Chomsky (2005a), p.230. I owe this reference to
Millikan (2005b), p.24. However, Millikan must
have been using a different edition, since my copy reads as I have reproduced it
above, but not as Millikan presented it. Bold added. Quotation marks altered to
conform with the conventions
adopted at this site.]
From this it
is clear that Chomsky does allow for the appearance of conceptual resources (and
thus for rudimentary 'thought')
before language developed, or emerged, in the first individual to possess
it (i.e., linguistic Adam). It is also hard to see how language could be an
"instrument of thought" if 'thought' wasn't already present to be expressed
by this medium, or which needed an 'instrument' in order to do just that.
And this is exactly what we find; Chomsky imagines a socially isolated primate
wandering around before it was zapped by radiation:
"It lacks the language organ, but it has something
like our brain and other organs, including sensorimotor systems sufficiently
close to ours, and also a conceptual-intentional system sufficiently close to
ours so that it can think about the world more or less the way we do, in so
far as that is possible without language. But it doesn't have language and
cannot articulate such thoughts -- even to itself." [Chomsky, quoted in Knight
(2010a). Bold added.]
Exactly what such language-less thoughts could be
was left mysterious.
Chomsky also believes that the possession of
language would confer on a lone speaker an adaptive advantage:
"Actually you can use language even if you are the
only person in the universe with language, and in fact it would even have
adaptive advantage. If one person suddenly got the language faculty, that person
would have great advantages; the person could think, could articulate to itself
its thoughts, could plan, could sharpen, and develop thinking as we do in inner
speech, which has a big effect on our lives. Inner speech is most of speech.
Almost all the use of language is to oneself, and it can be useful for all kinds
of purposes (it can also be harmful, as we all know): figure out what you are
going to do, plan, clarify your thoughts, whatever. So if one organism just
happens to gain a language capacity, it might have reproductive advantages,
enormous ones. And if it happened to proliferate in a further generation, they
all would have it." [Chomsky (2002), p.148.]
Despite what Chomsky says, it is hard to see what use language would be to a
lone proto-human. If it was alone, it wouldn't be able to compete with social
units of other, languageless proto-humans. As both Hume and Rousseau pointed
out, cooperative behaviour offers far greater advantage over a 'lone wolf'
enterprise. [On this, see Skryms (2004).] It could be argued that language would
make up the difference, conferring on an individual language user advantages
that far out-weighed co-operative action. Well, this is all highly speculative
and ignores the points made
earlier this Essay:
It
could be objected that the ability to
think -- or, rather, the ability to use language, which resulted from this
massive mutation -- would have helped the individual concerned survive much
better and thus pass on more of his/her genes. Hence, these genes would enter
into and pass through the local population, improving its fitness. However, as
pointed out in the main body of this Essay, such an individual would have woken
up one morning uttering strange noises she couldn't understand (rather like
Brother John, mentioned
earlier), or she would begin 'thinking'
strange 'thoughts' she had never encountered before and could not, therefore,
comprehend. These days, this individual would be classified as mentally ill. So,
if anything, this would hinder her survival.
Imagine how
you, dear reader, would respond if, one day, you woke up and began to 'think' in
a language you didn't already know (say
Navajo,
or even,
Klingon). You would most likely conclude (that is, if you could even
understand yourself, or work out what the hell was going on!) that you were
going mad. But, you already have the advantage of knowing a modern language
(English!), and people around you who speak a language. This poor proto-linguist
didn't have a language the day before it was stricken in this way.
How would or could he/she cope?
How, too,
would those around you (friends, relatives, neighbours, co-workers, strangers,
etc.) respond today if you began to speak, say, in Klingon, and nothing but
Klingon. [I am, of course, assuming that you don't belong to a Star Trek
fan club, and that none of those around you understand Klingon! Otherwise, you
can substitute for it any other language not known to you or to those around
you.] Would that
improve your chances of finding a mate with whom you could reproduce? [Even
Star Trek geeks would tend to shun you if you only ever spoke in Klingon
and nothing else.
It isn't easy chatting up a member of the opposite sex if all you can do it
mutter incomprehensible noises at them.] Clearly, to ask such questions is to
answer them. But, unlike you, dear reader (whether or not you spout Klingon or
some other little known tongue) this afflicted creature would be surrounded
by those who had no language at all. If anything, they would run away from
this odd individual, screaming. Alternatively, they would simply banish,
ostracise, or even kill her/him. There wasn't much 'care in the community' one
hundred thousand years ago. Precious little mating would be going on with an
individual that socially-challenged, either. This is quite apart from the
fact that
most mutations are harmful. That is even more true with respect to large
mutations. Moreover, far as I am aware, no mutation of this sort has ever been
observed in human beings. Finally,
Cosmic Rays are hardly conducive to human health and well being.
115.
Unless, of course, we suppose these innovators invented each letter (or
lexeme, or
whatever) one at a time!
116.Once more, this doesn't
amount to an admission that I think this was the case, or that I think genes
'control' language; it is simply an attempt to explore where this argument might
reasonably be expected to go.
117.
At
best, this is all mere speculation; we have no idea whether or not it is true. On this, see
Gould and Vrba (1982), and
McGarr (2003), pp.98-100. See also,
Pinker and Bloom
(1990).
117a.
Admittedly, given the liberal assumptions allowed for in
Note 112 (and
here), some of the sounds
made by one or more individuals would be 'recognisable' (i.e., perhaps the set
of 'nouns'), but any new 'words', or any new uses, wouldn't. If those
assumptions are tightened, or dropped, then even this would be unlikely.
Someone could argue that
children face these problems all the time, but manage to bumble through somehow.
The difference here is that children are born into a community that
already has a language; this wouldn't have been the case with these
proto-linguists, where no one would recognise most (or any?) of the sounds they
heard given this scenario. As they grow and develop children are trained or
socialised by their carers and peers to use sounds (to which they will have
become accustomed in infancy) to say things for themselves. Again, this can't
have been the case with respect to these proto-linguists. [However, how children
actually learn their first language will have to be set to one side for now; on
this see Erneling (1993), Greenspan and Shanker (2004), and Williams (1999).]
117a0.
Admittedly, this doesn't
imply that these (hypothetical) rules must be explicit or even known to those
who employ them (in the sense that they are able to quote them); all they need
do is recognise the correct or incorrect use of such words, or be capable of
correcting one another (to some extent). For example, whether or not any of us
are qualified grammarians or linguists, the vast majority of us would quickly
spot this clear misuse of English:
M1: "Ok, it's agreed. We'll meet at the
station somewhere between 3 o'clock."
Nor does
this particular point imply we are all expert grammarians. But, some of us
are, and we often look to them for guidance. [On this, see Baker and Hacker
(1984a).] Nor does it mean that there is such a thing as perfect English.
There are clearly regional, ethnic, and class-based variations, just as there
are well established dialects, but
all English speakers faced with M1 would be puzzled by it. They would ask
such things as "Don't you mean 'We'll meet at
3 o'clock'?" Or, "Do you mean 'We'll meet between, say, 3 and 4 o'clock'?" No
amount of regional or class-based variation would make M1 legitimate or
comprehensible --, that is, without changing the meaning of, say, "between", so
that it became equivalent to "at".
Furthermore,
there would be no such thing as the correct use of such words in the absence of
a community that had already grounded these rules in social practice. [This
takes care of regional, ethnic and class-based differences over how people use
language.] To be sure, in working class -- and many ethnic -- communities we
often encounter sentences like this:
M2: "I ain't done nothing!",
where it is
quite clear that this is a way of
emphatically denying or rejecting something. [One example I saw in a TV
film recently went as follows "I don't know nothing about nobody!"] No one from
such a community would think to correct such a use of these words since everyone
understands what is meant. In this instance, double negation is being employed
as other communities might use an emphatic "anything". We have to view it this
way, otherwise the double negative would imply the opposite
of what M2 was meant to repudiate!
But, no one
from a working class community (or any other, for that matter) would come out
with this:
M3: "I didn't steal the watch, officer.
I paid nothing for it and left the shop with it in my bag!"
Which shows
that we all know how not
to use this word, and, indeed, how to use it. They would perhaps
come out with M3a instead:
M3a: "I didn't steal the watch, officer.
I paid £50 for it and left the shop with it in my bag! Here's the receipt."
Consider
this conversation:
M4: MM -- "I know that Tony
Blair."
M5: MN -- "You know what
about Tony Blair?"
M6: MM -- "Nothing, I just know
that Tony Blair."
M7: MN -- "You aren't making
sense. You can certainly know Tony Blair (be acquainted with him, or be
friends with him), but if you are going to use a 'that' you must say what it is
that you know about him by using a sentence or clause, such as 'I know
that Tony Blair is a warmonger', or some such."
M8: MM -- "I can use words in any
way I please."
M9: MN -- "You most certainly
can, but you can't expect to be understood if you insist on using words in such
a puzzling way."
Few would
disagree that
MM's use of English here is incomprehensible, even if they might not
always be able to say how it might be corrected. [But, then again, few of
us would object to the above correction.]
In addition,
all of us would react the same way in the situation described in Essay Twelve
Part One:
An
example
taken from Wittgenstein's
Philosophical Investigations illustrates the radical difference between
number words and other terms we use (which, incidentally, also exposes one of
the core confusions motivated by
Semiotics -- that all words are signs, or operate as
"signifiers" of the "signified"; on this see Essay Thirteen
Part Three).
Wittgenstein
encourages us to consider an example where a customer enters a
grocery
shop and asks the shop assistant for five red apples. The assistant doesn't
first go off in search of red things, nor yet collections of five
things. Manifestly, he or she will go and find apples first, or even red
apples, and then count them.
This forms
part of the
Fregean idea
that number words attach to concepts, not objects. Or, as Wittgenstein
might have said, number words express operations carried out on objects of a
certain sort,
qualified by a count noun
-- like "three apples" or "five pears" (although, as far as I am aware,
Wittgenstein didn't use the phrase "count noun" -- he did use a roughly
equivalent term "substantive",
though).
Hence, the
assistant will count apples: one apple, two apples..., and so on, as the
concept expression "ξ is an apple" is successively instantiated or
applied -- sometimes expressed demonstratively (typically to children) as: "This
is an apple, and that is another...". Of course, this isn't to suggest that
these are the words that this fictional assistant will actually use, or indeed
that he/she will use any words at all, but they, or words like them, will
have been used in her/his childhood training, at some point. No one is just
taught to count 'objects' -- but to count objects of a certain sort, or
objects identified demonstratively, governed by the use of concept expressions
(like "ξ is an apple"), or count nouns (i.e., "napples").
Novices who can proceed along lines they have been trained are thus said to have
grasped the use of number words (and, indeed, of concept expressions and/or
count nouns). Subsequently, this linguistic skill becomes automatic, which is
indeed part of what we mean by "knowing how to count" -- or even how to serve in
a grocers shop! [On this, see Robinson (2003b). The use of Greek symbols, like
those employed above, is explained
here.]
[This isn't to suggest,
either, that knowing (implicitly) how to apply number words is sufficient
to be able to credit an individual with a minimal grasp of the concept of
number. As is well known (at least since Frege (1953) -- and as is implied by
the above comments), this requirement needs supplementing with what is called a
"criterion
of identity" (that is, the individual concerned must be able to specify
whether or not, in this case, there are the same number of apples (or,
indeed, red apples) each time. That is, they must be proficient with the
practical and not just verbal
application of "same apple", i.e.,
with what counts as the same (sort of) apple. Cf.,
Wittgenstein (2009), §1,
pp.5e-6e. (This links to a PDF.) See also,
Geach (1968), pp.39-40
this in fact links to the 3rd
(1980) edition, so the page numbers are different: pp.63-64), Lowe (1989), and
Noonan
(2014). For some of the complexities involved in this area, see Epstein
(2012).]
Now, the
whole point of this analysis is aimed at showing that not all words are names
and not all words function in the same way -- and, eo ipso,
that words can't be "signifiers" of the "signified" -- otherwise, the order in
which the above grocer looked for the items required by this customer would be
indifferent, and he/she could or would look for five things first, red
things next, apples last.
In addition,
it is also aimed at demonstrating that we all know this to be so (i.e.,
in our practice -- in, say, our
automatic reaction to requests like the one the shopkeeper faced --,
but not necessarily in our deliberations about such things, where we
often go astray). And, that is why (whatever philosophical theory we hold,
whatever ideology we assent to) not one of us
would dream of looking for something named by "five" first, or even "red", and
then "apples" last. On the other hand, if all words were names, we would
typically do this.
This
alone shows that Wittgenstein wasn't fixated on ordinary German (or even
ordinary English). No human being who has ever walked the planet would dream of
looking for something 'named' by "five" first, or even "red", and then "apples"
last (always assuming they lived in a society with the requisite social
organisation and vocabulary, etc.), whatever their language, social
circumstances or ideological commitments happened to be.
Now,
this
is what Wittgenstein meant by "logical grammar": logical features expressed in
language, reflected in our practices, which illustrate how we all
react in social circumstances (or otherwise),
no matter what ideology or theory
we subscribe to, and no matter in what century we actually live.
Indeed, they are so much part of our second nature, so much part of what
we do without thinking, that we fail to spot their significance --, which is, of
course, why they went unremarked upon for millennia (until Frege and
Wittgenstein pointed them out).
[Details concerning the above references can be accessed
here.]
So, we can
safely predict that if we randomly select, say, a member of the working
class, a billionaire, a member of the Central Committee of the UK-SWP, a Bishop,
an Imam, a Zen Buddhist, the editor of the Daily
Express, or a Conservative politician, and told them to do the
following:
M10: "Go to your local park and count
all the objects there",
not one
of them would know where to begin,
never mind having a clue what they had been asked to do. Whatever class we
come from, we all know how to use the word "object" (in such contexts, in
our ordinary lives -- but maybe less so in our theoretical deliberations), and
that would prevent us from understanding how to proceed in the above case.
None of us would need a grammarian, a linguist, a logician or a psychologist to
tell us that we can't just count
objects. All of us would know that M10 represents a radical misuse of
language. The same applies to speakers of all known languages that possess the
requisite vocabulary, at any point in human history. No Daoist monk,
Roman Centurion, Amazonian Indian, Medieval Knight, Chiricahua Apache
warrior,
Visigoth
King, student of Hegel (or, indeed, Hegel himself),
Cathar
'heretic', Bolivian miner,
Klondike gold prospector, member of the Central Committee of the Bolshevik
Party in October 1917, Babylonian Astrologer,
Christian Science 'healer', Greek slave, Peruvian
Shaman,
Egyptian Pyramid builder,
Medici Pope, Russian gangster, Vietnamese peasant, Chinese Emperor, Donald J
Trump supporter -- or even
Bob Avakian -- would know how to count
just objects, or even what was meant by a request that they should try to
do so. They might not be able to quote a grammatical, or even logical, rule that
prevents them from dong it, but they would all know such a task was impossible
even to understand, let alone carry out.
Which is, of
course, why our ancestors invented count nouns.
Some might
think that they can, indeed, count
just objects. For example, a tree is an object, so is a park bench. But
are they? Is a tree one object or many thousand? Do we count the leaves as
objects, the bark, each branch, each atom, each electron...? Notice, too, that
in order to tell us what is meant by an "object" here, any such hypothetical
'object counter' would find they had to use count nouns to make
themselves understood -- for example, by employing "tree" or "park bench" (both
of which are count nouns).
Indeed, one
of the reasons why we have such nouns in the language is to make counting
instructions and requests clear. If someone now said:
M11: "Go to your local park and count
the ducks",
few of us
would be puzzled. But they would be if this were requested:
M12: "Go to your local park and count
the soil."
"Soil" is a
mass noun,
hence we all immediately recognise the ridiculous nature of M12. While most
speakers might not be acquainted with the terms "mass noun" and "count noun",
few will fail to recognise when they should and shouldn't be used (as in M12,
for instance). So, we would all respond to M12 with something like: "Don't you
mean buckets
of soil?", "I think you mean 'piles of soil'", or even, "You can't count
soil! Don't you mean I should weigh it? What, all of it!?"
Of course,
"bucket" and "pile" are count nouns. To be sure, if a language lacked this
distinction, then the individuals using it won't be able to form sentences like
those above or entertain slightly more complex thoughts. But, that, as they say,
is a different story.
Having said
that, the word "amount" now seems to be taking over from "number"; so we find
ordinary speakers saying things like "The amount of people who have caught 'flu
this winter...", or "The amount of books in the library continues to
fall...". Even politicians talk like this, as do academics.
Of course, "amount" goes with mass nouns and "number" with count nouns. So, we
might be losing a clear distinction 'around the edges', so to speak. This
isn't a pedantic or nit-picking point, either; much of Statistics is based
on
a clear distinction between discrete and continuous variables, that is, on
terms roughly covered either by count nouns or mass nouns. That branch of
mathematics would be crippled if this distinction were lost, abandoned or
blurred.
And it's not just mathematics that would suffer.
The importance of maintaining a clear distinction between our use of "number"
and "amount" is perhaps best illustrated by a plausible everyday example:
D1: Doctor
to patient, "I am worried about the amount of drugs you are taking." ["Drug"
used as a mass noun.]
D2: Doctor
to patient, "I am worried about the number of drugs you are taking." ["Drug"
used as a count noun.]
While D2
necessarily implies the individual concerned is taking a range of different
drugs, D1 doesn't automatically carry that implication, and, if anything,
implies only one drug is being consumed, albeit in large quantities.
Any doctor who ran these two uses together, or was
oblivious of the difference, could cost someone their health or even their life.
So, while common use is eroding this difference, it is important that such
erosion, at least here, is resisted.
Similar
comments apply to the now almost universal erosion of the distinction between
"less" and "fewer":
D3: Doctor to patient, "I am worried about the
amount of drugs you are taking, so please take less." ["Drug" used as a mass
noun.]
D4: Doctor to patient, "I am worried about the
number of drugs you are taking, so please take fewer." ["Drug" used as a count
noun.]
Again, one of these might save your life, the
other might kill you.
Finally, the
idea that such individuals possess or follow rules 'unconsciously' (that is,
they employ rules that have been 'wired' into their brains, a là Chomsky) makes
even less sense. On that, see Baker and Hacker (1984a), pp.243-368.
[The latter
should, however, be read in conjunction with Bloor (1997), Kripke (1982), Kusch
(2006), and Robinson (2003c).]
It could be
argued that our language affects the way we view the world, perhaps invoking the
Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis [SWH] in support. A recent exponent of a modified and
updated version of this approach can be found in Deutscher (2011).
[It is worth
pointing out here that it isn't easy to see how anyone who accepts Chomsky's
theory can also accept the SWH, but I digress.]
[I will return to this topic in a later
re-write of this Essay.]
Until then,
the reader is directed to Cook (1978a, 1978b), and
Hutchinson (2012). As Hutchinson points out:
"However, there is another, alternative, way to undermine Whorf's thesis without
appealing to or subscribing to Chomsky's theories; here Whorf's argument is
identified as not residing in the claim that different grammars exist in
different natural languages but rather in a set of unacknowledged philosophical
assumptions that are operative in Whorf's hypotheses. This criticism of Whorf
brings to the fore the philosophical assumptions underlying Whorf's claim that
grammatical differences entail different metaphysics. In other words, rather
than focus on his grammatical pluralism one might focus on Whorf's claim that
one can read-off a metaphysics from the grammar of a language. For one thing of
note and all-too-often overlooked in discussions of Whorf's theory is that his
relativism is not entailed by his observations about the grammar of different
languages, and nor did Whorf claim it to be so. There is, rather, a
philosophical argument operative in Whorf's thesis, which is assessable
independently of his grammatical pluralism. A criticism addressed to this aspect
of Whorf's thesis is one that seeks to show that Whorf's thesis lacks
intelligibility. John W. Cook's critique is an exemplar of this approach.
"On close examination, Whorf's claim that different metaphysics can be read-off
different grammars can be shown to fall short of his aims and this one can see
on examination of his remarks about his own language: English. A little like the
anthropologist who writes of the primitive superstitions of the tribe he is
studying while it remaining literally unremarkable to him that he then prays
before dinner and kisses a photograph of a loved one before going to sleep for
the night, Whorf's writings about the metaphysics he claims to read-off
Hopi
grammar
are accompanied by a distinctly superficial depiction of the grammar of his own
language. His arguments about grammatical categories determining the metaphysics
of the speakers of the language are consequent on his being led astray by the
surface grammar of his own language, because where Whorf took himself to be
identifying a metaphysics which can be read-off the grammar of English (and,
when he turned to study that, Hopi) he was rather reading-into English a
metaphysics which owed much to his own pre-existing, underlying, metaphysical
assumptions about English grammar. To paraphrase John W. Cook, Whorf was not
reading-off a metaphysics from the grammar of English, but rather reading into
English a metaphysics not there. For example, Whorf employs the example of the
concept of 'time' in support of his claim that metaphysics is read-off grammar,
but his assumptions about the metaphysics of time are simply read-off his
observation that in English 'time' is a noun and he seems to assume that nouns
must correspond to something. Whorf is therefore being led astray by the surface
(superficial) grammar of 'time'. When he then takes himself to have read-off a
metaphysics of time as being constituted of 'moments', 'time-slices' or
'time-flows' he is actually being led astray by his unacknowledged assumption
that 'time' as a noun in English must correspond to something.
"To summarise: The real problem faced for someone who is persuaded by the
Sapir-Whorf hypotheses is not that it is based on a now unfashionable theory of
grammar, in light of the prominence attained by Chomsky's work. Rather, the real
problem is that what had appeared to many (including Whorf) like a thesis
founded upon, if not logically forced upon one by, the results of empirical
studies of the grammar of natural languages, is actually a set of claims
emerging from the observer (such as Whorf) being in the grip of an
unacknowledged picture of grammar that leads him to both misrepresent his own
language and then proceed to misrepresent those he was studying." [Quoted from
here. Accessed 25/01/2013. Link added.]
[In the
above, Hutchison and Cook are relying on Wittgenstein's criticism of what has
come to be known as "The Augustinian Conception of Language". On that, see
here
and here. Indeed, the
anecdote quoted
earlier
was designed to combat this view of language.]
As we will
see, Deutscher is no less culpable in this regard.
118.
On the other hand, if this had in fact have happened, our group of
proto-linguists would only have needed to be given a basic grounding in the new
tongue (How? By whom?), which they were then about to extend. That is because
(given this particular variation on the current theme) they would succeed in
grasping their new 'language' from an early age -- otherwise the gene or set of
genes responsible (manifestly) wouldn't be functioning aright. But, even then,
all the problems outlined in the main body of this Essay (and
above) would still apply.
[On this, see
Note 117a0 and
Note 120.]
118a.
Communicating and then understanding
what speakers say to one another involves far more than simply making noises, or
mouthing words at our interlocutors. Any supposition to the contrary risks
accepting the idea that we represent things to ourselves first and then
try to communicate those thoughts to others second -- and that our
ancestors did the same. [As we have seen, communication would be impossible if
that
were the case.] This is, of course, a point that Voloshinov himself would
have acknowledged (even if we part company over the exact details). On this, see
Note 120, andNote 124b.
119.
Naturally, this is consistent with the view that language is a social,
not an
individualistic, phenomenon, and that we can only make sense of the
past by means of the language we now have -- even if we have to use an
appropriate level of sensitivity when attempting to do just that.
120.
Again, the situation is much worse than this. Pentecostal 'innovators' are
already (by all accounts) sophisticated language users. In which case,
they already have in place the requisite linguistic resources and social skills
by means of which they can at least make some attempt to comprehend what others
in their congregation who are jabbering away are trying to say. If, at present,
these Pentecostals still fail to grasp what the happy band of babblers in
their midst is trying to say, novice proto-linguists stand no chance.
It could be
argued that while Pentecostal babblers might confront one another with a novel
barrage
of sounds, these proto-linguists will surely have done this gradually over many
months or years, perhaps in a piecemeal manner. But, whether a Pentecostal
ecstatic utters one new sound or several doesn't affect the incomprehension this
is now met with by their hearers -- even those who are already
sophisticated language users, let alone children or those with learning
difficulties. Odd sounds (whether uttered singly or as a job lot, or even if
they are gradually introduced over the course of many years) would be of no use
to anyone unless their meaning was already understood, or could be explained by
someone who understood. This can't have been the case with these
proto-linguists, if, as even Voloshinov acknowledges (in his more coherent
moments), meaning is a social phenomenon, not a 'process in the mind' of
an individual. [I have already covered this topic,
earlier; readers are directed there for more details. On this, see also Note 23.]
In that
case, there would be no advantage to a lone noise-maker in producing such
sounds (that is, if we concede for the moment the idea that the possession of
language confers some sort of selection or survival advantage).
Consider
again the aphasic we met earlier:
a monk called Brother John who, in the 1970s, had a series of epileptic
seizures. Whenever these episodes occurred, he couldn't understand anything that
was said to him, and no one could comprehend his words, either -- no matter how
many times they listened to him. Longer seizures, though, had a more dramatic
effect:
"When his spoken speech was tested during a spell,
similar sounding nonsense words tended to recur, often variants of the nonsense
sequence tuwari. When shown a picture of a telephone...[he] said: 'That's
it, there. The furi twar. No. Glarity tuware tuwa tuware ari tuware tuware
tuwarere tu tuware tu'." [Aitchison (1996), p.39. Italic
emphasis in the original; quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions
adopted at this site.]
No matter
how slowly or gradually this individual introduced these odd sounds/'words', or
howsoever piecemeal this turned out to be -- or, indeed, how often they were
repeated -- they still made no sense to anyone; and his listeners were far
more sophisticated language users than these hypothesised proto-linguists are
supposed to have been.
Indeed, in
relation to the above nonsense words, it is worth asking sceptical readers in
relation to, "Glarity
tuware tuwa tuware ari tuware tuware tuwarere tu tuware tu",which are the verbs and which the nouns?
Incidentally, this also shows that communication isn't about barking noises at
one another -- not even in an advanced linguistic community. [See also Note 126a, below.]
120a.
There is an earlier, and somewhat cruder version of the approach adopted at this
site to be found in
Fritz
Mauthner's work; on this, see Weiler (1970), pp.6-89. [However, the reader
shouldn't assume that I agree with everything
Mauthner had to say. Far from it!] It is worth adding that Mauthner
was an important influence on Wittgenstein. [Again, on this see Weiler, op
cit.]
121.
This is what it means to take Marx seriously when he said that social
being 'determines consciousness' -- or, better: we can determine the
ideas and beliefs that individuals are capable of forming, have formed, or have
adopted, when we examine at the Mode of Production in which they lived and the
class to which they belonged, etc. This topic will be explored in more detail in
Essay Twelve (summary
here).
Some might
claim that they can in fact 'think' in pictures/images, or without language.
That odd idea was addressed in Note 61. [See also Note 85.]
122.
In this Essay, I won't be discussing
memetic theory
-- which has become a rather fashionable nostrum of late, and not just in
connection with certain sections of EP,
but right across the Internet. The use of the word "meme" is now almost
ubiquitous, having spread like
Japanese Knotweed. It now seems to have lost its theoretical connotations
(rather like "electricity" and "magnetic" have), and seems to mean something
like "widely copied or used word or concept".
However, on this topic readers should
consult Churchland (2002), Kuper (2000), McGrath (2005), Plotkin (2003), and
Sperber (1996, 2000). [I hesitate to reference
McGrath, since he is a leading Christian Theologian, but his arguments
against Dawkins's memes are, in my view, conclusive. Although, there is a
YouTube
video of the two debating some of these issues.]
123. Admittedly,
all else having failed, a cultural account of the origin of language
would be equally difficult to construct -- but it wouldn't, I think, be
impossible. Such a task won't however be attempted here since it would involve
the present author in concocting several "just so stories" of her own.
One notable attempt to do this can be
found in Canfield (1993), but it isn't one with which I would agree since it
makes far too many concessions to 'animal thought'. [Cf., Greenspan and Shanker
(2004).] However, an interesting and superficially persuasive account of the
origin of language can be found in Bickerton (2009).
[I will say
more about the above rather impressive book in a later re-write of this Essay.]
124. Although this hasn't yet been attempted,
as far as I know, but modern epigenetic theories of evolution might one day be
extended into this area. However, even if we had some idea how such changes
could be imprinted on the genome, that wouldn't affect the points made in this
part of the Essay. Once again: linguistic innovators would, on this scenario,
still face one another as Pentecostal babblers do today -- i.e.,
with total
incomprehension.
It could be objected that it has been shown -- for example, in the work of
William Samarin -- that (i) there is no grammatical structure to
glossolalial 'tongues' and (ii) that the 'phonemes' used are
homophonic
to the native language of each ecstatic. As Samarin points out:
"[G]lossolalia consists of strings of meaningless syllables made up of sounds
taken from those familiar to the speaker and put together more or less
haphazardly.... Glossolalia is language-like because the speaker unconsciously
wants it to be language-like. Yet in spite of superficial similarities,
glossolalia fundamentally is not language." [Quoted from
here.]
If so, it
could be argued that Pentecostal babble can't be used to criticise the formation
of a proto-language since the latter does have an hypothesised
grammatical structure, while the former does not. Nevertheless, even though this
might be true, it doesn't affect the points being made in this Essay. That is
because (a) those who have analysed Glossolalia are already sophisticated
language users who can tell the difference between a grammatical and a
non-grammatical barrage of sounds -- this wouldn't have been be the case with
these novice proto-linguists --, and (b) whether or not a language has a
grammatical structure, strange sounds would still be incomprehensible -- unless,
once more, there already existed a sophisticated linguistic community that
enabled bemused listeners to decipher them.
It could
also be argued that it isn't true that no one understands Glossolalia -- many
claim to be able to translate them. However, as the Skeptic's Dictionary
points out:
"Glossolalics behave in various ways, depending on the social expectations of
their community. Some go into convulsions or lose consciousness; others are less
dramatic. Some seem to go into a trance; some claim to have amnesia of their
speaking in tongues. All believe they are possessed by the Holy Spirit and the
gibberish they utter is meaningful. However, only one with faith and the gift of
interpretation is capable of figuring out the meaning of the meaningless
utterances. Of course, this belief gives the interpreter unchecked leeway in
'translating' the meaningless utterances. Nicholas Spanos notes: 'Typically, the
interpretation supports the central tenets of the religious community' (Spanos,
147)." [Quoted from
here.
Quotation marks altered to conform with the conventions adopted at this site.
The reference is to Spanos (1996), a source I have not yet been able to check.]
Since such
'translations' can't be checked, they are in no way different from
completeinvention. Of course, as the story in the Bible makes
plain, the original point of this 'miracle' was to spread the Gospel:
"And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in
one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty
wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared
unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they
were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as
the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews,
devout men, out of every nation under heaven. Now when this was noised
abroad, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that every man
heard them speak in his own language. And they were all amazed and
marvelled, saying one to another, Behold, are not all these which speak
Galileans? And how hear we every man in our own tongue, wherein we were born?Parthians,
and Medes, and Elamites, and the dwellers in Mesopotamia, and in Judaea, and
Cappadocia, in Pontus, and Asia, Phrygia, and Pamphylia, in Egypt, and in the
parts of Libya about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews and proselytes, Cretes
and Arabians, we do hear them speak in our tongues the wonderful works of God."
[Acts
2: 1-11. Bold emphases added; spelling
modified to conform with UK English.]
In this
case, those new tongues were already in existence, which is why they were
readily understood. That isn't the case with contemporary Glossolalia. [Readers
mustn't assume I believe this tosh!]
As the
Skeptic's Dictionary rather tartly points out:
"This story is supposed to support the notion that such an event really did
occur and it was prophesied by
Joel
that this kind of thing would happen in the last days. There is nothing in Joel,
however, that prophesied that, when the last days didn't come as predicted, plan
B would be to wait 1900 years and have a revival and claim that when you speak
gibberish it is a sign that God loves you." [Quoted from
here.
Link added.]
124a. This shouldn't be taken to
imply that I think that language has no biological basis. Plainly, had
our evolution taken a different course, and had human beings not inherited the
physical make-up we now have, it is unlikely that language would have developed.
Plainly, such biological facts are necessary, but not sufficient, to account for
the development of our capacity to talk and hence communicate.
124b. Naturally, this over-simplifies
things somewhat. To say that someone has understood something amounts to far
more than merely noting they use language as we do and that they share the same
vocabulary. Understanding is assessed in different ways in different
circumstances and in different areas of life; but one thing we don't do
when we attempt to ascertain if our interlocutors have either comprehended what
we have said, or have understood a task that has been assigned them, is examine
their brains.
Typically, we monitor their overt reaction, performance and response. [On
this, see Baker and Hacker (2005a), pp.357-85, and Baker and Hacker (2005b),
pp.305-56. Also see, Note 51, above.]
124c. It could be objected that we
not only can, we do
manage to innovate non-socially today. New words are constantly being invented
by individuals; indeed, unless someone thought up a new use, or began to employ,
a word in new ways
there would be no innovation. Maybe so, but we can't assume that the
proto-linguists under scrutiny here innovated as we do today where invention of
new words is now situated against a background of shared vocabulary,
shared linguistic practices, and cultures, for these proto-linguists didn't yet
possess either a language or settled linguistic practices. Moreover, these
hypothetical ancestral innovators and the groups to which they belonged
certainly hadn't gone through the lengthy social development we have, which was
responsible for the creation of the sophisticated language we now possess and
which allows us to innovate individually. To suppose otherwise is to make the
same mistake made by bourgeois theorists -- that we are not only social atoms,
our class, social or historical development and background are irrelevant in
this respect.
So, and to
repeat, we manifestly do not innovate today against a background where there is
no language whatsoever.
125. Alex
Callinicos, for example, once called this a "truism"; cf., Callinicos (1998b),
p.177. Readers are referred to my discussion of this topic,
here.
126.Some
might be tempted to point out that this argument resembles creationist
criticisms of Darwinism. This isn't so, since the evolution of language isn't
being denied. All that is being claimed is that the theories we currently
possess can't account for it, and since we are already language users it isn't
likely that we will ever be able to account for it. [That is so for reasons
outlined in the main body of this
Essay.] Hence, the argument here doesn't appeal to "irreducible
complexity", but to (i) the fact that language depends on social convention,
and any explanation of its origin has to assume the very thing that is to be
explained -- social convention --, and (ii) the additional fact that as
sophisticated language users already, our theories (as social products
themselves) can't help but be coloured by social convention.
This isn't
to argue, either, that we are trapped by language, or that it is some kind of
'prison', only that howsoever we try we can't even begin to recreate in our
imagination the conditions that existed before we invented language without
also going behind social convention -- thus trying to find a naturalistic
explanation for something that is irreducibly social -- and, what is more,
without
using language in order to do this. So, we aren't so much trapped by
language, as limited by our social nature and history as human beings.
[The general
background details to this topic were covered in Essay Twelve
Part One.
More details will be given in Essay Thirteen Part Two (which focuses on the
nature of science and its relation to DM), when it is published sometime in
2025.]
126a.
Interesting medical opinion of this episode can be found
here. As the doctor at the latter site had this to say:
"In addition, the idea that one can
'decode' aphasia is simply ludicrous."
Another, writing in the comments section on the same page, offered this opinion:
"As a speech-language pathologist, I can
tell you that the language output of people with aphasia cannot be decoded. It's
a disorder of symbols…even their gestures are affected (undifferentiated -- they
tend to use the same gestures for anything they are trying to communicate).
Further, they cannot use a dictionary to look up the words they are trying to
say. People with aphasia WISH there were such a nice answer…there is not. In the
case presented on House, the pt [patient -- RL] clearly thought his
expressive language was appropriate…he did NOT recognize his errors. How could a
person like that use a dictionary to find the right word? He thinks what he said
was right! You cannot decode aphasia." [Capitals in the original.]
Which makes
my point rather well. It isn't possible to comprehend radically flawed, or
novel, 'speech', even where this occurs in
homophonic discourse, as was the case above -- the man afflicted with
aphasia in this episode of House
uttered nothing but English words in grammatical sentences, but he still
failed to make sense. Of course, had the cast of House been novice
linguists -- living perhaps hundreds of thousands of years ago -- not
sophisticated speakers of English who also had expert knowledge of aphasics
(etc.), they would plainly have failed even to guess his speaker's
meaning.
Hence, our ancestral innovators would face each other as a group of aphasics
face us, or one another, now -- only their plight would have been far worse,
since they would have no shared vocabulary, no norms of usage to fall back upon,
and no expert knowledge to guide them, unlike those of us today who are
confronted by the odd things some individuals utter, especially aphasics.
And, it
isn't to the point to suggest that, contrary to the opinion advanced in the
above quotation, we might one day learn to interpret aphasics with ease,
for if we ever manage to do that, it would merely be testimony to our
enhanced interpretive skills, shared vocabulary, norms of application and
advanced medical/psychological expertise. Manifestly, these weren't available to
proto-linguists and novice 'language decoders' hundreds of thousands of years
ago.
128. On
this, see Stove (2006), pp.258-306, and Fodor (1998c), partially quoted
here.
[However, readers unfamiliar with David Stove's work should also heed
this warning.]
129a. Of course, for those who
believe in 'natural necessity' this is no big deal. But, they are closet
Platonists anyway. On that, see Note 130 andNote 133. [On 'determinism', see
here and the
Appendix.]
Even so, as
Note 93and Note 130 also show, Harman is indeed just such a
believer.
Further proof that Harman is a necessitarian-still-in-the-closet can to
be found in the following passage from Engels, which Harman quotes approvingly:
"'Men-in-the-making arrived at the point
where they had something to say to each other. Necessity created the
organ; the undeveloped larynx of the ape was slowly but surely transformed
by modulation to produce constantly more developed modulation, and the organs of
the mouth gradually learned to pronounce one articulate sound after another.'
"Parallel with this there was a
necessary development of the brain:
'The reaction of labour and speech on the development of the brain and its
attendant senses, of the increasing clarity of consciousness, power of
abstraction and of conclusion, gave both labour and speech an ever renewed
impulse to further development.'" [Harman (1994),
p.85; quoting Engels (1876),
p.356. Bold emphases added.]
This seems
pretty clear.
As we
have seen, in order to make traditional accounts of causation work,
theorists have to appeal to some form of necessity operating in nature. But,
that just
anthropomorphises the material world, making it look as if it were under the
influence of a Cosmic Will of some sort.
This topic
will be discussed in more detail presently, and in Essay Three Part Five. Until
then, see here and the
Appendix. The metaphysical
background to this way of looking at the world was examined in Essays Eight
Parts
One and
Two, Twelve Part One, and the
rest of Twelve (summary
here). Cf., also
Bobro (2021), and
Carlin (2008).
See also Note 150, and the links
in Note 133.
130a.
It isn't too clear what a non-literal
interpretation of these metaphors might look like, anyway! I will attempt to say
more about this in Essay Three Part Five.
131. As
noted above, without these metaphors, Harman's entire theory falls apart.
Previous
theorists soon discovered that in order to remove 'mind' from nature, and
for nature still to function in the way they imagine it should, they had to
smuggle it back in again somewhere else, using an entire dictionary of
fetishised words to that end. They
found they were forced to do this so they could explain how the universe worked
'lawfully'. [On this, see Essay Twelve, once more -- summary
here and here.]
As noted in the main body of this Essay, often this was (and still is) achieved
by the use of inappropriate metaphors and analogies, compounded by the
anthropomorphisation of nature and the fetishisation of language.
132. This
is particularly apparent in Harman (1994); e.g.,
p.188, n.73, among several other instances.
132a. Although,
Harman doesn't use the word "law", he does use "determine", and he refers his
readers to Engels's first 'Law' -- p.102. He also managed to piece together a
rather good impression of a 'necessitarian'.
133.More
on this below: here,
here, and
here. [Once again, this topic will be discussed in more detail in Essay
Three Part Five.]
133a.
Indeed,
languages change far faster than genes.
134. Except
perhaps because of the ideological blessing seemingly given to Darwinism by Marx
and Engels. On this see Gerratana (1973). [However, Gerratana accepts the myth
that Marx wanted to dedicate Volume Two of Das Kapital to Darwin
(pp.79-80); on that, see below.] A different view can be found in Ball (1979),
who alleges that it was Engels who incorrectly linked Marx and Darwin after
Marx's death. Others think it was all the fault of that complete waste of space,
Aveling.
[Browne (2003), p.403.]
However,
Steven Jay Gould probably strikes the right balance in an article nominally
about
Ray
Lankester, one of the few individuals who attended Marx's funeral:
"If
Lankester showed so little affinity for Marx's worldview, perhaps we should try
the opposite route and ask if Marx had any intellectual or philosophical reason
to seek Lankester's company. Again, after debunking some persistent mythology,
we can find no evident basis for their friendship.
"The mythology centres upon a notorious,
if understandable, scholarly error that once suggested far more affinity between
Marx and Darwin (or at least a one-way hero worshiping of Darwin by Marx) than
corrected evidence can validate. Marx did admire Darwin, and he did send an
autographed copy of Das Kapital to the great naturalist; Darwin, in the
only recorded contact between the two men, sent a short, polite, and basically
contentless letter of thanks. We do know that Darwin (who read German poorly and
professed little interest in political science) never spent much time with
Marx's
magnum
opus. All but the first 105 pages in Darwin's copy
of Marx's 822-page book remain uncut (as does the table of contents), and
Darwin, contrary to his custom when reading books carefully, made no marginal
annotations. In fact, we have no evidence that Darwin ever read a word of Das
Kapital.
"The legend of greater contact began with one of the few errors ever made by one
of the finest scholars of this, or any other, century --
Isaiah Berlin, in his 1939 biography of Marx. Based on
a dubious inference from Darwin's short letter of thanks to Marx, Berlin
concluded that Marx had offered to dedicate volume 2 of Kapital to Darwin
and that Darwin had politely refused.
"This tale
of Marx's proffered dedication then gained credence when a second letter,
ostensibly from Darwin to Marx but addressed only to 'Dear Sir,' turned up among
Marx's papers in the
International Institute of Social History in Amsterdam. This letter, written
on October 13, 1880, does politely decline a suggested dedication: 'I Shd.
prefer the Part or Volume not be dedicated to me (though I thank you for the
intended honour) as it implies to a certain extent my approval of the general
publication, about which I know nothing.' This second find seemed to seal Isaiah
Berlin's case, and the story achieved general currency....
"To shorten a long story, two scholars, working independently and simultaneously
in the mid-1970s, discovered the almost comical basis of the error (see Margaret
A. Fay, 'Did Marx offer to dedicate Capital to Darwin?' Journal of the
History of Ideas39, 1978, and Lewis S. Feuer, 'Is the "Darwin-Marx
correspondence" authentic?'
Annals of Science32, 1975). Marx's daughter
Eleanor
became the common-law wife of the British socialist Edward Aveling. The couple
safeguarded Marx's papers for several years, and the 1880 letter, evidently sent
by Darwin to Aveling himself, must have strayed into the Marxian collection.
"Aveling
belonged to a group of radical atheists. He sought Darwin's official approval,
and status as dedicatee, for a volume he had edited on Darwin's work and his
(that is, Aveling's, not necessarily Darwin's) view of its broader social
meaning (published in 1881 as The Student's Darwin, volume 2 in the
International Library of Science and Free-thought). Darwin, who understood
Aveling's opportunism and cared little for his antireligious militancy, refused
with his customary politeness but with no lack of firmness. Darwin ended his
letter to Aveling (and not to Marx, who did not treat religion as a primary
subject in Das Kapital) by writing:
'It appears to me (whether rightly or wrongly) that direct
arguments against christianity and theism produce hardly any effect on the
public; and freedom of thought is best promoted by the gradual illumination of
men's minds which follows from the advance of science. It has, therefore, been
always my object to avoid writing on religion, and I have confined myself to
science.'
"Nonetheless, despite this correction, Marx might still have regarded himself as
a disciple of Darwin and might have sought the company of a key Darwinian in the
younger generation -- a position rendered more plausible by Engels's famous
comparison (quoted earlier) in his
funerary oration. But this interpretation must also be
rejected. Engels maintained far more interest in the natural sciences than Marx
ever did (as best expressed in two books, Anti-Dühring and Dialectics
of Nature). Marx, as stated above, certainly admired Darwin as a liberator
of knowledge from social prejudice and as a useful ally, at least by analogy. In
a famous letter of 1869, Marx wrote to Engels about Darwin's Origin of
Species: 'Although it is developed in the crude English style, this is the
book which contains the basis in natural history for our view.'
"But Marx also criticized the social biases in Darwin's
formulation, again writing to Engels, and with keen insight:
'It is remarkable how Darwin recognizes among beasts and plants his English
society with its division of labour, competition, opening up of new markets,
invention and the
Malthusian
'struggle for existence.' It is
Hobbes'sbellum omnium contra omnes [the war of all against all].' [Marx
to Engels, 18/06/1862.]
"Marx remained a committed evolutionist, of course, but his
interest in Darwin clearly diminished through the years. An extensive scholarly
literature treats this subject, and I think that Margaret Fay speaks for a
consensus when she writes (in her previously cited article):
'Marx...though
he was initially excited by the publication of Darwin's Origin...developed
a much more critical stance toward Darwinism, and in his private correspondence
of the 1860s poked gentle fun at Darwin's ideological biases. Marx's
Ethnological Notebooks, compiled circa 1879-81, in which Darwin is cited
only once, provide no evidence that he reverted to his earlier enthusiasm.'" [Gould
(2002c), pp.123-25. Spelling adjusted to conform with
UK English; formatting and Quotation marks altered to conform with the
conventions adopted at this site.
I have not been able to check the articles Gould cites. I have, however, added
the references to Marx's correspondence. Links also added.]
It is rather
odd, though, that Gould ignored a letter Engels
sent to Lavrov, which is far more negative in its opinion of Darwin:
"1) Of the Darwinian doctrine I accept the theory of evolution, but
Darwin's method of proof (struggle for life, natural selection) I consider only
a first, provisional, imperfect expression of a newly discovered fact. Until
Darwin's time the very people who now see everywhere only struggle for
existence (Vogt,
Büchner,
Moleschott, etc.) emphasized precisely cooperation
in organic nature, the fact that the vegetable kingdom supplies oxygen and
nutriment to the animal kingdom and conversely the animal kingdom supplies
plants with carbonic acid and manure, which was particularly stressed by
Liebig.
Both conceptions are justified within certain limits, but the one is as
one-sided and narrow-minded as the other. The interaction of bodies in nature --
inanimate as well as animate -- includes both harmony and collision, struggle
and cooperation. When therefore a self-styled natural scientist takes the
liberty of reducing the whole of historical development with all its wealth and
variety to the one-sided and meagre phrase 'struggle for existence,' a phrase
which even in the sphere of nature can be accepted only cum grano salis
[with a grain of salt -- RL], such a procedure really contains its own
condemnation.
"...I should therefore attack -- and
perhaps will when the time comes -- these bourgeois Darwinists in about the
following manner:
"The whole Darwinists teaching of the
struggle for existence is simply a transference from society to living nature of
Hobbes's doctrine of bellum omnium contra omnes
[from Hobbes's De Cive and Leviathan, chapter 13-14] and of
the bourgeois-economic doctrine of competition together with Malthus's theory of
population. When this conjurer's trick has been performed (and I questioned its
absolute permissibility, as I have indicated in point 1, particularly as far as
the Malthusian theory is concerned), the same theories are transferred back
again from organic nature into history and it is now claimed that their validity
as eternal laws of human society has been proved. The puerility of this
procedure is so obvious that not a word need be said about it. But if I wanted
to go into the matter more thoroughly I should do so by depicting them in the
first place as bad economists and only in the second place as bad
naturalists and philosophers.
"4) The essential difference between
human and animal society consists in the fact that animals at most collect
while men produce. This sole but cardinal difference alone makes it
impossible simply to transfer laws of animal societies to human societies....
"At a certain stage the production of
man attains such a high-level that not only necessaries but also luxuries, at
first, true enough, only for a minority, are produced. The struggle for
existence -- if we permit this category for the moment to be valid -- is thus
transformed into a struggle for pleasures, no longer for mere means of
subsistence but for means of development, socially produced
means of development, and to this stage the categories derived from the animal
kingdom are no longer applicable. But if, as has now happened, production in its
capitalist form produces a far greater quantity of means of subsistence and
development than capitalist society can consume because it keeps the great mass
of real producers artificially away from these means of subsistence and
development; if this society is forced by its own law of life constantly to
increase this output which is already too big for it and therefore periodically,
every 10 years, reaches the point where it destroys not only a mass of products
but even productive forces -- what sense is their left in all this talk of
'struggle for existence'? The struggle for existence can then consist only in
this: that the producing class takes over the management of production and
distribution from the class that was hitherto entrusted with it but has now
become incompetent to handle it, and there you have the socialist revolution.
"...Even the mere contemplation of
previous history as a series of class struggles suffices to make clear the utter
shallowness of the conception of this history as a feeble variety of the
'struggle for existence.' I would therefore never do this favour to these false
naturalists....
"6) On the other hand I cannot agree with you that the 'bellum omnium contra
omnes' was the first phase of human development. In my opinion, the social
instinct was one of the most essential levers of the evolution of man from the
ape. The first man must have lived in bands and as far as we can peer into the
past we find that this was the case...." [Engels to
Lavrov,
17/11/1875.
Spelling adjusted to UK English; formatting and Quotation marks altered to
conform with the conventions adopted at this site.
Links also added.]
Which seems
to me to get things about right.
However, it is worth adding a comment about this famous comment by Marx:
"Although
it is developed in the crude English style, this is the book which contains the
basis in natural history for our view." [Marx
to Engels, 19/12/1860, in Marx and Engels (1985), p.232. The published
version I have referenced is obviously a different translation to the one Gould
used.]
Even before I became a revolutionary, this throw-away remark
puzzled me since it didn't appear to be consistent with
HM, and might seem to many to be
advocating some form of
Social Darwinism. However, the struggle envisaged by Darwin had nothing to
do with the class war, which, in the end, leads to its own demise. Nor does the
class war have anything to do with reproductive advantage, or survival value.
There is nothing like this in the natural world. So, it might be more to the
point to interpret this to mean that Marx was referring to their joint atheism
and their naturalistic view of extra-social reality. That interpretation
is clearly supported by Marx's use of the phrase "natural history".
134b.Recall, I am not questioning
Harman's argument here (i.e., the one that appears on
pp.96-99), merely pointing out that we need to give this far more careful
consideration than Harman might have had available space, or time.
135. The
locus classicus of this line of thought is, of course, Davidson (1963).
On this in general, see Hacker (2007a), pp.199-232; on Davidson, see pp.226-32. Since this
approach to human action (among others things) has gained some credibility among
certain sections of the 'Marxist intelligentsia', I have devoted this section of
the Essay to it.
A recently
unsuccessful attempt to make Roy Bhaskar's ideas comprehensible can be found in
Archer, et al (1998). Bhaskar's own thought, however, seems to have
slipped back into the mystical swamp from which it originally slithered -- see,
for instance, Bhaskar (2003a, 2003b, 2003c).
136. Cf.,
Collier (1994), pp.209-21, and Pateman (1987).
[I
will examine Pateman's more important arguments here at a later date.]
Readers
might take exception to this rejoinder, claiming that the present author often
appeals to the typical (or "everyday") use of certain words without producing
"the yet-to-be-published, innovative research into the sociolinguistics of the
terms in question". If an omission like this is OK for Ms Lichtenstein, why is
it a problem for Collier?
However, the
hypothetical objector omitted this significant rider:
This query
isn't being raised out of mere cussedness or even 'pedantry';
if someone makes an empirical claim about the "typical" way the rest of
us are supposed to interpret (or use) a certain word that is in fact not even
remotely like the way they would naturally employ it, some supporting
evidence is the least one should expect.
When an
appeal is made to "everyday use" in these Essays it isn't the case that that use
is "not even remotely like the way they would naturally employ" certain
words. Quite the reverse, in fact. Throughout this site I quote scores (if not
hundreds) of easily recognisable everyday sentences. Collier does not. Who uses,
or even implies, the words "tipped the balance" when speaking about what caused
what in everyday life? Indeed, as we are about to see, we don't even
"a-typically" regard causes this way when we reflect about them.
138.Online dictionaries also fail to mention
'balance-tipping' in connection with causes:
"cause
"n.
"1.
"a. The producer of an
effect, result, or consequence.
"b. The one, such as a
person, event, or condition, that is responsible for an action or
result.
"2. A basis for an action or
response; a reason: The doctor's report gave no cause for alarm.
"3. A goal or principle served
with dedication and zeal: 'the cause of freedom versus tyranny' (Hannah
Arendt).
"4. The interests of a person or
group engaged in a struggle: 'The cause of America is in great measure
the cause of all mankind' (Thomas Paine).
"5. Law
"a. A ground for legal
action.
"b. A lawsuit.
"6. A subject under debate or
discussion.
"tr.v. caused, causing, causes
"1. To be the cause of or reason
for; result in.
"2. To bring about or compel by authority or force: The moderator
invoked a rule causing the debate to be ended." [Quoted from
here.]
"noun
"1. a person, thing, event, state, or
action that produces an effect
"2. grounds for action; motive;
justification ⇒ she had good cause to shout like that
"3. the ideals, etc, of a group or
movement ⇒ the Communist cause
"4. the welfare or interests of a person
or group in a dispute ⇒ they fought for the miners' cause
"5. a matter of widespread concern or
importance ⇒ the cause of public health
"6.
1. a ground for legal
action; matter giving rise to a lawsuit
2. the lawsuit itself
"7. (in the philosophy of Aristotle) any
of four requirements for a thing's coming to be, namely material (material
cause), its nature (formal cause), an agent (efficient cause), and a purpose
(final cause)....
"verb
"9. tr to be the cause of; bring about; precipitate; be the reason for...."
[Quoted from
here.]
138a.
It could be argued that this
is an absurd objection since Collier and Bhaskar are talking about causes that
are specific to the events in hand, not a cause of everything. That response
will be dealt with presently.
138b.
In the example given in the main
body of this Essay (concerning the slow acceleration of the bus because of the
driver's lack of attention), it could be argued that one of the reasons why
NN caught the bus was the driver's inattention. Indeed, but it can't be
NN's reason. I return to this topic in the
next sub-section of this Essay.
139.
Even so, when we are told that a certain word typically means another
term, the two are surely interchangeable. In that case, for Collier and Bhaskar,
reasons are causes just as much as causes are reasons:
"What does it mean to say that reasons
can be causes? Bhaskar suggests that:
'When something is cited as a cause it
is, I think, most typically being viewed as that factor which, in the
circumstances that actually prevailed, "so tipped the balance of events to
produce the known outcome"…'….
"Intentional actions involve beliefs and
desires…. It is hardly open to dispute that, given a desire for something,
coming to have a belief about the way to get it may 'tip the balance', and so be
naturally described as 'the cause'." [Collier (1994), p.152-53. Bold
emphases added.]
It could be
objected that the above quotation doesn't say that the word "reason" means the
same as "cause", it merely says that reasons can be causes, which is fair
enough. But, that seemingly innocent first move only leads the reader toward the
words highlighted above (in bold). Now,
that part of the quotation is altogether less neutral. Beliefs and desires
are there connected with reasons which can now be "naturally described" (not,
note,
sometimesdescribed, but "naturally described") as "the cause".
This clearly implies that a reason (or a set of reasons) is the cause of
our actions, just as the cause of an (intentional?) action is a reason. It is
difficult, therefore, to resist the conclusion that for Collier, the words
"reason" and "cause" (used in such a context) are synonymous.
139a.
On this, see Child (1996), pp.91-92.
However, it should be pointed out that Child in the end argues for a view that
is diametrically opposed to the approach adopted in this Essay.
"A main cause of philosophical disease
-- a one-sided diet: one nourishes one's thinking with only one kind of
example." [Wittgenstein (1958), §593, p.155e.]
141.
Anyone tempted to answer "Yes" to all of these questions on the grounds that
something
must have 'tipped the balance' at some point would plainly be using
Bhaskar's thesis as a "form of representation" -- i.e., as a logical device that
sanctions specific inferences and conclusions before the relevant evidence
becomes available (that is, if it ever does!), allowing the said
objector to assume there
must always be such a 'balance-tipping' cause.
[The use of the word "must" here in response to this objection, by the way, is a
further give-away. Where there is a "must" there is an inference.]
"Form of
representation" will be explained more fully in a later Essay. Until then, the
reader is directed to Glock (1996), pp.129-35. See also
here.
It could be
argued that this is merely an
inference to the best explanation [IBE]. IBEs (or "abductive
inferences") will be discussed in a later Essay, too, but it is sufficient
to point out here that the best explanation we can give for an intentional
action involves a consideration of the reasons why the agent concerned
performed it. Assuming this is always a cause would be to
beg
the question, therefore.
142.
Note, this might help us understand how reasons could be
'balance-tipping' with respect to the examples listed in
C1-C6, too.
142a0.
Some might dispute whether an agent always knows why he/she does
something. That worry will be allayed presently.
142a. It could be argued that these
examples are highly contrived, and so are of little relevance. But, that isn't
so with respect to (ii) and (iii). However, for extra, less 'controversial',
examples, see Schaffer (2004).
142b. And good luck answering that
question! On this, see McPherson (1990), especially pp.854-59. Readers can also
listen to Professor McPerson's lecture on this topic,
here. [See also Goodwin (2013) and Keegan (2010).]
After
sorting out the 'balance-tipping' cause of the defeat of the Confederacy,
ambitious readers can then like to try their hand at finding the
'balance-tipping' cause that led to the Nazi Wehremacht losing the
Battle of
Kursk in July and August 1943, and then the 'balance-tipping' cause
of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire. [For assistance on the latter, see
Heather (2006).]
143.
I have outlined the case against such 'laws' in Essay Thirteen Part Two (to be
published in 2025), and Essay Three Part Five (to be published at a later date).
Nevertheless, this way of viewing reasons and causes isn't just a
'Wittgensteinian prejudice', it can be found in Hegel, too -- cf., MacIntyre
(1976b). The so-called "Critical Realists" -- who apparently hold Hegel in high
regard -- seem not to have noticed this rather damning fact.
Of course,
this introduces the vexed question whether there can be singular causes. On
that, see Note 144.
144.
For recent work on singular causes, etc., see Psillos (2002), Chapter Two. For
how these are to be distinguished from the coincidental, or the merely adventitious,
see Anscombe (1981b). See also Cartwright (2000), Teichmann (2008), pp.177-90,
and Hacker (2007a), pp.57-121 for an ordinary language account of causation that
doesn't lapse into necessitarianism. A brave attempt to distinguish causes from
coincidences can be found in Owens (1992).
144a.
It could be argued that if we hope to give a naturalistic account of human
action, motives and intentions, then we are forced to appeal to natural laws
governing certain processes in the
CNS of the individual
concerned. This will then by-pass questions about the uniqueness of each human
being, since it will focus on natural processes that aren't exclusive to one
individual. But, even if we accept this view of human action (and it should be
clear by now from what has gone before in this Essay that I don't), this won't
work either. That is because if the human action concerned is unique (and
it must be so for the reasons explored in the main body of this Essay), then
whatever natural or physical processes led up it being performed will be unique,
too.
145.
Again, it is worth pointing out here that the philosophical thesis that causes
(or causal laws) are 'particulars/tropes/individuals'
is neither being asserted nor denied here (for reasons outlined several times at
this site -- especially in Essay Twelve
Part One). What is of concern, however, is the fact that a metaphysical view
of causation oscillates alarmingly between two extremes: (i) the belief that
laws are irreducibly general and (ii) the idea that they are
essentially particular. [These days the latter view seems to have morphed
into an updated version of
Essentialism. More on this in Essay Three Part Five.]
Nor is this
Essay aimed at questioning the laws that scientists have constructed. It is
aimed at undermining the amateur Metaphysics they often indulge in when they
write prose about these laws.
[The word
"prose" here is a Wittgensteinian term, and characterises the sorts of things
mathematicians and scientists say about their theories when they attempt
to translate them into ordinary, or even semi-technical, language. Invariably,
they find they have to indulge in amateur Metaphysics or use inappropriate
metaphors and analogies.]
145a.
Dogmatism in Philosophy was tackled in
Essay Two and Essay Twelve
Part One. [On this, see Kuusela
(2008).]
145b.
I am well aware that this view of Hume has come under sustained attack of late.
[On this, see, for example, Strawson (1996). Also, cf., Psillos (2002),
pp.22-23.] Nevertheless, this recent development doesn't affect the argument in
the main body of this Essay since Collier appears to accept the traditional view
of Hume.
145c.
This explanation of causation seems to owe nothing to
Hegel's
theory (or to Lenin's), which is odd in view of the fact that 'Critical
Realists' are supposed to be Hegelians of one sort or another (upside down or
'the right way up').
146.
This is, of course, a predicament that has afflicted Traditional Philosophy from
the get-go.
[Several of Bhaskar's key arguments will be examined here at a later date. In
the meantime, the reader is directed to my earlier comments,
here
and
here.
Many of his arguments, and those of the 'Critical Realists' depend on the
response to Hume advanced in Harré and Madden (1975). I will also examine this
book at a later date. In the meantime, see
Note 150.]
147.
On this, see Essay Eight
Part One.
The ideas of a handful of modern 'necessitarians' will be examined in Essay
Three Part Five. [A general attack on this way of viewing any philosophical
theory was developed in Essay Twelve
Part One.]
148a.
Indeed, this is the line of
reasoning that led Leibniz to re-write causation along just such 'rational'
lines, as the action of 'tiny minds', or
monads.
[On this see,
Bobro (2021), and
Carlin (2008).]
In fact, and amusingly, this picture of
causation often re-surfaces in children's films when an attempt is made by
someone to perform a feat of magic. The 'magician' or 'wizard' concerned will
just wave his or her hands about, or make facial gestures -- in the 1960s TV
programme,
Bewitched,
'Samantha', the 'witch', only had to twitch her nose --, utter a few 'magic
words', and objects effortlessly moved in the 'required manner' as if they not
only understood exactly what was intended by such histrionics they knew
precisely how to go about obeying these coded 'commands'. Clearly, this fanciful
picture is predicated on the idea that inanimate objects are intelligent and
quintessentially dutiful, if addressed in the right manner. The
Harry Potter film franchise is a classic example of this genre.
But, this is precisely the fanciful
picture of nature that dominates Traditional Theories of causation -- albeit
hidden behind page after page of verbose jargon!
149.
We have
already noted that Bhaskar has reverted
to an overt form of mysticism; we can now add Collier's name to this list, too!
[Cf., Collier (1999, 2001, 2003).] But,
there are many others, as Lenin predicted there would be (in
MEC). Why
DM-fans are quite so susceptible in this regard is revealed in Essay Nine
Part Two.
150.
For a neo-Humean account of causation, see Mackie (1980). For a recent survey,
see Psillos (2002). For an account of physical law that doesn't rely on 'natural
necessity', see Swartz (1985,
2009),
and for a conventionalist account of necessity, see Sidelle (1989).
Also see the
little-known and unjustly neglected article written by Bertrand Russell [i.e.,
Russell (1917c)], which, apart from the metaphysical views it expresses,
presents an account of causation not significantly different from the one
adopted at this site. [On that, see also Price and Corry (2007).] For a more
Wittgensteinian account of our use of "cause" (and its related vocabulary), see
the references in Note 144,
above.
Once more, Bhaskar's (and thus
Collier's) theory leans heavily on Madden and Harré (1975).
I will consider their arguments in Essay Three Part Five. In the
meantime, the reader is directed to Hacker (2007a), pp.57-121 and Sidelle
(1989).
151.
There is a rather effective demolition
of Bhaskar's theories in Pleasants (1999).
151a.
It is worth warning the reader here that Sampson is a right-wing Tory who holds
more than his fair share offensive reactionary and racist opinions, which,
naturally, I have neither used nor referenced in my discussion of Chomsky.
Despite this, Sampson's technical criticisms of the latter's work seem to me to
be valid, and, as I noted with respect to the opinions of David Stove (here),
his right-wing views should no more prevent us from reading his
(non-reactionary) criticisms of Chomsky than dialecticians allow Hegel's
right-wing ideas to prevent them from studying his 'Logic'.
However, Sampson's alternative
hypothesis -- that children learn their first language by trial-and-error and by
hypothesis formation -- is hardly any better than Chomsky's. For a child to form
an hypothesis it would already have to have language (not to mention
possessing a rudimentary knowledge of 'the scientific method'!); in which case,
this theory can't account for first language acquisition. Moreover, it is quite
clear that Sampson's theory is consistent with his right-wing ideology, since he
sees each of us as socially isolated and atomised individuals, teaching
ourselves to speak, as opposed to our having been trained or socialised in its
use by relatives, careers, peers and (in many cases) teachers. It isn't
surprising, therefore, to discover that Sampson was heavily influenced by
Karl Popper
and the Empiricist tradition, which further confirms my allegation that in this
area, theories of human cognition haven't advanced much beyond those of the 17th
century -- and thus smack of
bourgeois
individualism.
152.
Even though, in the end, Cowie makes rather too many concessions to Nativism.
Cf., Sampson (2005, 2008), and Cowie (1997,
2002,
2008), along with the discussion
here (accessed 16/08/2004).
For Marxist criticisms of Chomsky, see
Knight (2003,
2005,
2006,
2007a,
2007b,
2007c,
2010a,
2010b,
2011, 2016a,
2016b), and Lecercle (2006). On the general background to this often heated
debate, see Harris (1995). Since this Essay was originally written, Bickerton
has changed his mind somewhat; on that, see Bickerton (2009).
In this
section, I intend to reproduce reviews of some of the books referenced in this
Essay alongside other relevant material.
In what
follows, bold emphases and links have been added. Italic
emphases are in the original. Minor typos have been corrected; spelling altered
to conform with UK English. Readers mustn't assume I agree with every view
expressed in this material.
What do colon cancer, ant
colonies, language and global warming have in common? This might sound like the
front end of a joke, but in fact it's a serious challenge to the standard view
of evolution. Martin A. Nowak, the director of the Program for Evolutionary
Dynamics at Harvard, has devoted a brilliant career to showing that Darwin, and
particularly his followers,
batted only two for three.
Random mutation and natural selection have indeed been powerful motors for
change in the natural world -- the struggle for existence pitting the fit
against the fitter in a hullabaloo of rivalry. But most of the great
innovations of life on earth,Nowak argues, from genes to cells to
societies, have been due to a third motor, and "master architect," of evolution:
cooperation.
"SuperCooperators"
(written with Roger Highfield, editor of New Scientist magazine) is an
absorbing, accessible book about the power of mathematics. Unlike Darwin with
his brine bottles and pigeon coops, Nowak aims to tackle the mysteries of nature
with paper, pencil and computer. By looking at phenomena as diverse as
HIV
infection and English irregular verbs, he has formally defined five distinct
mechanisms that have helped give rise to cooperative behaviour, from the first
molecules that joined to self-replicate, to the first cells that formed
multicellular organisms, all the way to human societies, which exhibit a degree
of cooperation unmatched in all creation. In Nowak's view, figuring out how
cooperation comes about and breaks down, as well as actively pursuing the
"snuggle for existence," is the key to our survival as a species.
At the
heart of Nowak's ideas is the haunting game of
Prisoner's Dilemma.
The game involves two accomplices who are caught
for a crime, interrogated separately and offered
a deal. If one player incriminates the other, or
"defects," while the second remains silent, or
"cooperates," he will be given a sentence of one
year, while the other player gets four. If both
remain silent, they will be sentenced to only
two years, but if both defect, they will receive
three years. The rational choice for either
prisoner is to defect, getting three years --
though had both cooperated, they'd have been out
in two. In the absence of trust, reason can be
self-destructive.
In the
1990s, Nowak and Karl Sigmund, building on work
by
Robert Axelrod,
showed that the Prisoner's Dilemma, played over
and over, could describe cycles of behaviour in
which strategies of selfishness ("Always
Defect") are beaten out by cooperation ("Tit
for Tat"),
then overtaken by even more cooperative
behaviour ("Generous Tit for Tat," summarized as
"Never forget a good turn, but occasionally
forgive a bad one"), only to be invaded once
more by egoists until the cycle begins anew.
These "evolutionary dynamic" models, made more
realistic by introducing an element of
randomness, demonstrate that under the right
conditions, competition can lead to teamwork.
They also show how fragile that balance can be.
In
"SuperCooperators," Nowak argues that two of his
mechanisms, indirect reciprocity and group
selection, played an important role in human
evolution. Think of a proto-simian trying to
figure out whether to trust another in an
exchange: Should I provide sex now for food and
protection later? The proto-simian may have
observed the behaviour of its prospective
partner, or it may not have; chances are good
that others have, though. Reputation becomes
important. The proto-simian evolves into a
hominid, with a bigger brain allowing for more
precise communication about reputation. Moral
instincts evolve to produce shame, guilt, trust,
empathy; social intelligence and conscience are
born. Before you know it,
Yogi Berra
is summing it all up: "Always go to other
people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to
yours." Language, cognition and morality, Nowak
argues, are evolutionary spinoffs of the
fundamental need of social creatures to
cooperate.
Cooperation also breeds division of labour, as
any ant or gene will tell you. When group size
and structure, benefits and costs, all align
just right, Nowak's models show, the red talons
of nature turn green. Sixty million years of
fungus gardening by leaf cutter ants is one
example, genes stacked on
chromosomes
another.
Nowak is
one of the most exciting modellers working in
the field of mathematical biology today. But a
model, of course, is only as good as its
assumptions, and biology is much messier than
physics or chemistry. Nowak tells a joke about a
man who approaches a shepherd and asks, "If I
tell you how many sheep you have, can I have
one?" The shepherd agrees and is astonished when
the stranger answers, "Eighty-three." As he
turns to leave, the shepherd retorts: "If I
guess your profession, can I have the animal
back?" The stranger agrees. "You must be a
mathematical biologist." How did he know?
"Because you picked up my dog."
Nowak
does his best to avoid dogs, but
"SuperCooperators" gives little sense of the
debates that have raged for years between two
traditions of modelling evolution. One school
considers the intricate complications of
genetics, like the ways different versions of a
gene interact in sexual reproduction. The other
treats organisms as if they have a single set of
chromosomes and reproduce asexually. At the
heart of the debate lies the crucial question of
whether natural selection is always maximizing
the spread of an organism's genes. Nowak belongs
to the camp that assumes it is.
Nowak
has also ignited controversy with a paper in the
journal Nature, written with
E. O. Wilson
and Corina Tarnita, arguing that "inclusive
fitness"
-- the idea that organisms cooperate with
relatives because it helps pass on shared genes
-- is not necessary to explain the birth of
complex societies like bees and ants, or
altruism towards kin in humans. Nature recently
published five critical letters, including one
with 137 signatories, one of whom denounced the
paper's mathematics as not worth "wasting time"
over.
Nowak
gives little hint of these fierce debates in
this cheerful book, instead offering this
striking claim: "The way that we human beings
collaborate is as clearly described by
mathematics as the descent of the apple that
once fell in Newton's garden." It seems
significant to Nowak that, according to his
models, the interest of groups can override the
interests of individuals if "the ratio of the
benefits to cost is greater than one plus the
ratio of group size to number of groups," and
that cooperation can prevail if altruists
cluster together in particular topographies. If
only we could take such facts into account, as
special cancer-preventing "crypt" formations in
our colons have unthinkingly done, perhaps we
might work together to combat global warming.
Near the
end of the book, Nowak describes
Gustav Mahler's
efforts, in his grandiloquent Third Symphony, to
create an all-encompassing structure in which
"nature in its totality may ring and resound,"
adding, "In my own way, I would like to think I
have helped to give nature her voice too." But
there remains a telling gap between the
precision of the models and the generality of
the advice Nowak offers for turning us all into
supercooperators. We humans really are
infinitely more complex than falling apples,
metastasizing colons, even ant colonies.
Idealized accounts of the world often need to
ignore the messiness of reality. Mahler
understood this. In 1896 he invited
Bruno Walter
to
Lake Attersee
to glimpse the score of the Third. As they
walked beneath the mountains, Walter admonished
Mahler to look at the vista, to which he
replied, "No use staring up there -- I've
already composed it all away into my symphony!"
[Quoted from
here.
Several links added.]
Here follows
a summary of my ideas on 'determinism', but comrades shouldn't expect a
water-tight solution to this knotty problem in a few paragraphs. I am only
posting this because I was asked to do so.
To tell you the truth, I have so far only written on this topic tangentially. I
will however be publishing an essay specifically about this subject in the next
few years, where I will substantiate what I have to say below far more
expansively.
This issue has always revolved around the use of jargon drawn from Traditional
Philosophy (appropriating words such as "determined", "controlled", "will",
"free", and the like), the employment of which bears no relation to how these
words are used in ordinary speech.
For example, "determine" and its cognates are typically employed in sentences
like these: "The rules determine what you can do in chess", "The time of the
next train can be determined from the timetable", or "I am determined to go on
the demonstration", and so on. Hence, this word is normally used in relation to
what human beings can do, apply, infer, or bring about.
As we will see, their use in Traditional Thought inverts this, making nature
the agent and human beings the patient.
[Added on edit: "patient" here is being used in its older sense -- i.e., to
refer to that which is acted on, not that which acts.] No wonder
then that the 'solution' to this spurious problem (i.e., 'determinism' versus
'free will') has eluded us for over 2000 years.
An analogy might help illustrate how inappropriate such questions are: would we
take seriously anyone who wondered when the King and Queen in chess got married,
and who then wanted to know which priest conducted the ceremony? Or, whether
planning/zoning permission had been sought for that Castle over in the corner?
Such empty questions, of course, have no answer since they depend on a decidedly
odd use and understanding of the language associated with this particular game.
The same applies to the traditional questions asked about the use of "determine"
and other words connected with human choice.
This is perhaps more difficult to see in relation to the 'problem' at hand, in
relation to 'determinism', but it is nonetheless the result of similar
confusions. So, it is my contention that this 'problem' has only arisen because
ideologically-motivated theorists (who lived many centuries ago) asked such
empty questions, based on a similar misconstrual of language. [More on this
below.]
When the details are worked out, what we now call 'determinism' can only be made
to seem to work -- or, indeed, prompt the asking of what appear to be
comprehensible
questions -- if nature is anthropomorphised, whereby natural laws, for
instance, are said to 'determine' the course of events in 'reality' as well as
in the central nervous system, thus 'controlling' what we do or can think.
But, this is to take concepts that properly apply to what we do, think or
decide, and read them into natural events, suggesting that nature itself is the
expression of, or is controlled by, a Mind or a Cosmic Will of some sort. [Why
that is so will be explained presently.]
In which case, concerning these 'laws' it is natural to ask: Where have they
been written? And who wrote them? More to the point, why should unintelligent
matter 'obey' them? Can atoms and electrons really comprehend what they are
'supposed to do' when a law 'orders' them to do it?
Of course, the answer to the first two questions above might be "No one" and
"Nowhere", but then how can something that doesn't exist control
anything?
Theists will, naturally, answer such questions differently, but they have yet to
explain how 'god's will' can move electrons and atoms about the place, and how
such inanimate objects never disobey and behave everywhere in the same way that
they have always done. Are they intelligent? Theists have an all-purpose and
convenient answer to such questions, "It's a mystery". Isn't it also a mystery
that inanimate matter isn't intelligent but can 'obey' laws?
It could be replied that natural law is just a summary of how things have
proceeded up to now. In that case, such 'laws' are descriptive not
prescriptive. But it is the latter of those two alternatives that
determinists need; their 'laws' need to prescribe what happens in
nature and the
CNS. Of course, the
descriptive aspect of such 'laws' sidesteps the following even more awkward
question: How does this view of physical law -- as regularities -- distinguish
them from accidental generalisations? The answer to that question would,
of course, require an appeal to some form of 'natural necessity'.
[Added on edit: an 'accidental generalisation' would be something like this: the
coins in my pocket all contain copper; whenever I have coins in my pocket, I
have copper in my pocket, too. But does anyone think there is a causal
connection between 'being in my pocket' and 'made of copper'? If so, a gold coin
slipped into my pocket without my knowledge must now be made of copper! Exactly
why the 'prescriptive' nature of such laws (employing terms like "must" or
"necessarily") is required by determinists will also be explained.]
However, the introduction of modal notions here (such as 'must' and 'necessary')
can't be justified on the basis the descriptive nature of these 'laws' --
i.e., not without re-introducing the untoward anthropomorphic connotations
mentioned earlier.
So, if we say, concerning two events, A and B, that A is
always followed by B, we can't now say Bmust follow A
unless we attribute to A some form of control over B (and recall
B has not yet happened, so what
A is supposed to be controlling is somewhat obscure). And, if we now try
to say what we mean by 'control' (perhaps along lines that things 'couldn't
be otherwise', or, maybe that 'AmadeB happen' -- or even
that 'A necessitates B') we would need to explain how A is
capable of doing this. How could A prevent, say, C happening
instead? How is
A able to make sure B, andonly B,
happens? And, in some cases, does so everywhere and at all times across the
entire universe.
The use of "obey" here would further give the game away (i.e., if employed in
sentences like "A
and B obey natural law"), since, if this word is used with connotations
that go beyond mere description, it would imply that events like B
'understand' the 'law' (like any good citizen in civil society), and always
'behave in ways they have been ordered to act' whenever A 'determines'
what they must do, everywhere, right across the entire universe, for all of
time. It further implies that such 'laws' must exist in some form or other in
order to make objects and processes 'obey' them.
Of course,
if it doesn't mean this, what does it mean?
Now, I maintain that any attempt to supply these extra (missing) details
will again introduce notions of will and intelligence into the
operation of A on B (and also negatively on C) -- which is
why theorists have found they have had to employ anthropomorphic concepts (such
as 'determine', 'obey', 'law' and 'control') to bridge this gap, failing to
notice that the use of such language does indeed imply there is a 'Mind' or a
'Will' of some sort operating in nature.
[But, note
the qualifications I have introduced below. There were in fact ideological
reasons
why words like these were chosen. Naturally, the introduction of a
'Cosmic Will' here solves nothing since it still leaves mysterious how inanimate
matter manages to 'do what it is old', unerringly, right across the universe,
for all of time. Again, in effect, this credits matter with some form of
intelligence.]
If this is denied then, once more, "determine" (etc.) can only be working
descriptively, not prescriptively, and we are back to square one. In that
case, questions will naturally arise: why choose this particular word if it
doesn't mean that AdeterminesB? Why not just say B always seems to follow
A?
Incidentally, in relation to human action, the above problems can't be
side-stepped by the introduction of biochemical, neurological or physiological
objects and processes into the equation. The same questions apply there as
elsewhere: how can, for example, a certain chemical 'control' what happens next
unless it is in some way intelligent and purposeful? Reducing this to physics is
even worse; how can 'the field', a set of differential equations or whatever
control events still in the future? 'The field' is a mathematical object and no
more capable of controlling anything than a
Hermite Polynomial is. Of course, and once more, to argue otherwise would be
to anthropomorphise molecules and mathematical objects --, which is why I made
the argument above abstract, since it covered all bases.
This also explains why theorists (and particularly scientists who attempt to
popularise their work) find they have to put 'scare' quotes around certain
words, and use misleading analogies and inappropriate metaphors in order to try
to explain themselves.
As I noted earlier, this whole way of looking at the 'will' inverts things.
We are denied a will (except formally) and nature is granted one. As some
readers might now be able to see: this is yet another aspect of the alienating
nature of Traditional Thought, where certain words are fetishised (i.e.,
they are attributed with mysterious powers) and we are dehumanised.
This shouldn't surprise us since such questions were originally posed
theologically (and thus ideologically). Traditional Theorists were quite
happy to alienate to 'God' control both over nature and, in some cases,
even over our (supposed) 'free will'. And they did this in order to rationalise
the status quo; if the nature of the state and class domination have been
'determined', or even 'ordained', by 'God', they can't be opposed or questioned
-- at least, not 'legitimately'.
Hence, Marxists find that they, too, will have to use such distorted,
anthropomorphic terminology if they follow traditional patterns of thought in
this area.
"Feuerbach's
great achievement is.... The proof that philosophy is nothing else but religion
rendered into thought and expounded by thought, i.e., another form and manner of
existence of the estrangement of the essence of man; hence equally to be
condemned...." [Marx
(1975b), p.381. I have used the on-line
version, here.]
"The philosophers have only to dissolve their language into the ordinary
language, from which it is abstracted, in order to recognise it, as the
distorted language of the actual world, and to realise that neither thoughts nor
language in themselves form a realm of their own, that they are only
manifestations of actual life." [Marx
and Engels (1970), p.118.]
And:
"The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e. the
class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its
ruling intellectual force. The class which has the means of material production
at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of mental
production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the
means of mental production are subject to it. The ruling ideas are nothing more
than the ideal expression of the dominant material relationships, the dominant
material relationships grasped as ideas; hence of the relationships which make
the one class the ruling one, therefore, the ideas of its dominance. The
individuals composing the ruling class possess among other things consciousness,
and therefore think. Insofar, therefore, as they rule as a class and determine
the extent and compass of an epoch, it is self-evident that they do this in its
whole range, hence among other things rule also as thinkers, as producers of
ideas, and regulate the production and distribution of the ideas of their age:
thus their ideas are the ruling ideas of the epoch. For instance, in an age and
in a country where royal power, aristocracy, and bourgeoisie are contending for
mastery and where, therefore, mastery is shared, the doctrine of the separation
of powers proves to be the dominant idea and is expressed as an 'eternal law.'"
[Ibid.,
pp.64-65.]
These concepts will "rule" us, too, if we uncritically appropriate traditional
thought-forms like the above.
~~~~~~oOo~~~~~~
Many of the
above ideas aren't original to me (although a Marxist re-application of them
most definitely is). They first saw light of day, as far as I am aware, in
Bertrand Russell's essay:
Russell, B. (1917a), 'On The Notion Of A Cause', in Russell (1917b), pp.132-51.
--------, (1917b), Mysticism And Logic (George Allen & Unwin).
Although there is a hint of this in David Hume's work.
They can
also be found more explicitly stated (but not from a Marxist angle) in
the following:
Gallop, D. (1962), 'On Being Determined', Mind71, pp.181-96.
I have also adapted the following analysis of the phrase 'physical law':
Swartz, N. (1985), The Concept Of A Physical Law (Cambridge University
Press).
--------, (2009), 'Laws
Of Nature', Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
Influential Wittgensteinian criticisms of modern scientistic philosophies
of 'mind' can be found here:
Bennett, M., and Hacker, P. (2008), History Of Cognitive Neuroscience
(Blackwell).
--------,
(2022), Philosophical Foundations Of Neuroscience
(Blackwell).
Also see:
Hacker, P. (2007), Human Nature, The
Categorial Framework (Blackwell). [A PDF of Chapter One can be downloaded
from
here.]
--------,
(2013a), The Intellectual Powers. A Study Of Human Nature (Wiley
Blackwell).
Those who think an appeal to ordinary language is inappropriate in this area
should re-read what Marx said
above, consult the first half of the following, and then perhaps think
again:
Button, G., Coulter, J., Lee, J., and Sharrock, W. (1995), Computers, Minds
And Conduct (Polity Press). [A key passage from this book has been quoted
here.]
The bottom line is that Marxists have been
only too eager to
appropriate concepts and forms-of-thought bequeathed to us by Traditional
Thinkers, without subjecting them to sufficient critical scrutiny.
Unfortunately, this means that while our politics might appear to be radical,
our theory (both here and in relation to dialectics, for example) is
thoroughly traditional -- and, if I may say so, inappropriately
conservative.
I explain why I allege this in the first few sections of the following Essay:
I have also explained why I reject Traditional Thought as incoherent non-sense,
here -- summarised
here.
Finally, I
would try to get (more polished versions of) this material published in Marxist
journals, etc., but I am in general treated as a pariah, and face
highly emotional and irrational hostility wherever I attempt to present these
ideas. It seems, therefore, that "ruling ideas" rule comrades who are also
editors!
Finally, the above implies that 'determinism' either makes no sense (since it
depends on the projection of human capacities onto the world, and even onto the
brain!), or it is a misnomer. Moreover, because the traditional doctrine
of 'free will' depends for its force on being the obverse of 'determinism', it
too makes no sense (since it abstracts human beings from history and society).
So, do we have 'free will'? That question is far too abstract. What we need to
pay detailed attention to is how we use words associated with our psychological
make-up and the decisions we make. I won't attempt that here.
Several of Marx and Engels's works listed below have
been linked to the Marxist Internet Archive, but since Lawrence & Wishart
threatened legal action over copyright infringement many no longer work.
However, all of their work can now be accessed
here.
Aarsleff, H.
(1970), 'The History Of Linguistics And Professor Chomsky', Language
46, pp.570-85; reprinted in Aarsleff (1982), pp.101-19.
--------,
(1982), From Locke To Saussure. Essays On The Study Of Language And
Intellectual History (Athlone Press).
Ahmed, A.
(2010) (ed.), Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations. A Critical Guide
(Cambridge University Press).
--------,
(1985), 'Wittgenstein And The Vienna Circle: The Exaltation And Deposition Of
Ostensive Definition', Teoria
5, pp.5-33, reprinted in Hacker (2001), pp.242-67.
--------,
(1992), Wittgenstein. Rules, Grammar And
Necessity. Volume Two Of An Analytic Commentary
On The Philosophical Investigations
(Blackwell,
Corrected Edition).
--------, (2005a), Wittgenstein: Understanding And Meaning.
Volume One Of An Analytic Commentary On The Philosophical Investigations, Part
I: Essays (Blackwell, 2nd
ed.).
--------, (2005b), Wittgenstein: Understanding And Meaning.
Volume One Of An Analytic Commentary On The Philosophical Investigations, Part
II: Exegesis
§§1-184 (Blackwell, 2nd ed.).
Ball, T.
(1979), 'Marx And Darwin. A Reconstruction', Political Theory7,
pp.469-83.
Barnes, J.
(1995) (ed.), The Cambridge Companion To Aristotle (Cambridge University
Press).
--------, (2009), Truth, Etc. Six
Lectures On Ancient Logic (Oxford University Press).
Barnes, B.,
and Dupré, J. (2008), Genomes And What To Make Of Them (Chicago
University Press).
Beaken, M.
(1996), The Making Of Language
(Edinburgh University Press).
--------,
(2014c), EvaluatingCartesian Linguistics: From
Historical Antecedents To Computational Modeling (Peter Lang).
Benacerraf,
P., and Putnam, H. (1964) (eds.),
Philosophy Of Mathematics. Selected Readings (Blackwell).
--------,
(1983),
Philosophy Of Mathematics. Selected Readings (Cambridge University Press,
2nd
ed.).
Bennett, M.,
and Hacker, P. (2008), History Of Cognitive Neuroscience (Blackwell).
--------,
(2022),
Philosophical Foundations Of Neuroscience (Blackwell, 2nd
ed.).
Bennett, M.,
Dennett, D., Hacker, P., and Searle, J. (2007), Neuroscience And Philosophy.
Brain, Mind And Language (Columbia University Press). [Part of this can be
found
here (this links to a PDF), and there is a .wav recording of this debate
available
here (this takes a few minutes to load!).]
Block, I.
(1981) (ed.), Perspectives On The Philosophy Of Wittgenstein (Blackwell).
Bloomfield,
B. (1987) (ed.), The Question Of Artificial Intelligence (Croom Helm).
Bloor, D.
(1997), Wittgenstein, Rules And Institutions (Routledge).
Bobro, M.
(2021), 'Leibniz
On Causation',
Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, edited by Edward N. Zalta (Fall 2021
Edition).
Bogen, J.
(1972), Wittgenstein's Philosophy Of Language (Routledge).
Bono, J. (1995), The Word Of God And The Language
Of Men, Ficino To Descartes, Volume One: Interpreting Nature In Early Modern
Science And Medicine
(University of Wisconsin Press).
Born, R.
(1987) (ed.), Artificial Intelligence. The Case Against (Croom Helm).
Bouveresse,
J. (1995), Wittgenstein Reads Freud. The Myth Of The Unconscious,
translated by Carol Cosman (Princeton University Press).
Boyd, R.,
and Richerson, P. (2005), The Origin And Evolution Of Cultures (Oxford
University Press).
Braverman,
H. (1999),
Labor And Monopoly
Capitalism. The
Degradation Of Work In The Twentieth Century
(Monthly Review Press, 2nd
ed.).
Bridges, J.
(2010), 'Wittgenstein vs Contextualism', in Ahmed (2010), pp.109-28.
Broad, W.,
and Wade, N. (1985), Betrayers Of The Truth. Fraud And Deceit In The Halls Of
Science (Oxford University Press).
Brook, A.,
and Ross, D., (2002) (ed.),
Daniel Dennett (Cambridge University Press).
--------,
(1999b), The Darwin Wars (Simon & Schuster).
Brown, D.
(1970), 'Knowing How And Knowing That, What', in Wood and Pitcher (1970),
pp.213-48.
Browne, J.
(2003),
Charles Darwin. The Power Of Place. Volume Two Of A Biography
(Pimlico).
Budd, M.
(1989), Wittgenstein's Philosophy Of Psychology (Routledge).
Buller, D.
(2005), Adapting Minds. Evolutionary Psychology And The Persistent Quest For
Human Nature (MIT Press).
--------,
(2007), 'Varieties Of Evolutionary Psychology', in Hull and Ruse (2007),
pp.255-74.
Burkert, W.
(1972), Lore And Science In Ancient Pythagoreanism (Harvard University
Press).
--------,
(1985), Greek Religion, translated by John Raffan (Blackwell).
Burling, R.
(2005), The Talking Ape. How Language Evolved (Oxford University Press).
Burnyeat, M.
(1987), 'Wittgenstein
And Augustine De Magistro', Proceedings of the Aristotelian
Society, Supplementary Volume61, pp.1-24. [This links to a
PDF.]
Button, G.,
Coulter, J., Lee, J., and Sharrock, W. (1995), Computers, Minds And Conduct
(Polity Press).
Carruthers,
P. (1984), 'Critical Study: Baker And Hacker's Wittgenstein', Synthèse
58, pp.451-79.
--------,
(2006), The Architecture Of The Mind (Oxford University Press).
Carruthers,
P., and Boucher, J. (1998) (eds.), Language And Thought. Interdisciplinary
Themes (Cambridge University Press).
Carruthers,
P., Laurence, S., and Stich, S. (2005) (eds.), The Innate Mind. Volume One:
Structure And Contents
(Oxford University Press).
--------,
(2006) (eds.), The Innate Mind. Volume Two: Culture And Cognition (Oxford
University Press).
--------,
(2007) (eds.), The Innate Mind. Volume Three: Foundations And The Future
(Oxford University Press).
Carstairs-McCarthy, A. (1999), The Origins Of Complex Language. An Inquiry
Into The Evolutionary Beginnings Of Sentences, Syllables, And Truth (Oxford
University Press).
Cartwright,
N. (2000), 'An Empiricist Defence Of Singular Causes', in Teichmann (2000),
pp.47-58.
Cattell, N.
(2006), An Introduction To Mind, Language And Consciousness (Continuum).
Cavell, S. (1971a), 'Must We Mean What
We Say?', in Lyas (1971), pp.131-65, and Cavell (1976), pp.1-43.
--------, (1971b), 'The Availability Of
Wittgenstein's Later Philosophy', in Lyas (1971), pp.166-89, and Cavell (1976),
pp.44-72.
--------, (1976), Must We Mean What
We Say? (Cambridge University Press).
--------, (1996), 'Notes And
Afterthoughts On The Opening Of Wittgenstein's "Investigations"', in Sluga and
Stern (1996), pp.261-95.
Charles, D.,
and Child, W. (2001) (eds.),
Wittgensteinian Themes (Oxford University Press).
Chase, A. (1976), The Legacy Of Malthus. The Social Costs Of The New
Scientific Racism (Alfred Knopf).
Child, W.
(1996), Causality, Interpretation And The Mind
(Oxford University Press).
Chomsky, N.
(1965), Aspects Of A Theory Of Syntax (MIT Press).
--------,
(1972), Language And Mind
(Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 2nd
ed.).
--------, (1988), Language And the Problems Of Knowledge. The Managua
Lectures (MIT Press).
--------,
(2000a), New Horizons In The Study Of Language And Mind (Cambridge
University Press).
--------,
(2000b), The Architecture Of Language (Oxford University Press).
--------, (2002), On Nature And Language (Cambridge University Press).
--------,
(2005a), Rules And Representations
(Columbia University Press, 2nd
ed.).
--------,
(2005b), 'Some Simple Evo Devo Theses. How True Might They Be For Language?'
Paper presented at the Alice V. and David H. Morris Symposium on Language and
Communication, Stony Brook, SUNY, New York. [I haven't yet been able to
check this source.]
--------,
(2007), 'Minds
And Language', Biolinguistics1, pp.9-27. [This links to a
PDF, but access requires (free) registration.]
--------,
(2009a), Cartesian Linguistics. A Chapter In The History Of Rationalist
Thought (Cambridge University Press, 3rd
ed.).
--------,
(2009b), 'Concluding Remarks', in Piattelli-Palmarini, et al (2009),
pp.379-401. [I haven't yet been able to check this source.]
--------,
(2012a),
The Science Of Language: Interviews With James McGilvray
(Cambridge University Press).
[I haven't yet been able to check this source.]
Collins, C. (1999),
Language, Ideology And Social
Consciousness: Developing A Sociohistorical Approach
(Ashgate).
--------,
(2000), 'Vygotsky On Language And Social Consciousness: Underpinning The Use Of
Voloshinov In The Study Of Popular Protest', Historical Materialism7,
pp.41-69.
--------,
(2003), 'Review Of Bodies Of Meaning: Studies On Language, Labor And
Liberation, By David McNally',
Historical Materialism11, 2, pp.227-38.
--------,
(2004), 'Marxism And Language: A Response To McNally', Historical Materialism
12, 2, pp.169-87.
Cook, J.
(1978a), 'Whorf's Linguistic Relativism I', Philosophical Investigations
1, 1, pp.1-30.
--------,
(1980), 'The Fate Of Ordinary Language Philosophy', Philosophical
Investigations3, 2, pp.1-72.
--------,
(1982), 'The Illusion Of Aberrant Speakers', Philosophical Investigations
5, pp.215-26.
Copleston,
F. (2003), A History Of Philosophy, Volume Two: Medieval Philosophy
(Continuum).
Cornforth, M. (1965), Marxism And
Linguistic Philosophy (Lawrence & Wishart).
--------,
(1974), Dialectical Materialism, Volume Three: The Theory Of Knowledge
(Lawrence & Wishart, 3rd
ed.).
--------,
(1976), Materialism And The Dialectical Method (Lawrence & Wishart, 5th
ed.). [A copy of the 1968 edition is available
here.]
Cottingham,
J. (1992) (ed.), The Cambridge Companion To Descartes (Cambridge
University Press).
Coulter, J.
(1983), Rethinking Cognitive Theory (Macmillan).
--------,
(1989), Mind In Action ( Humanities Press).
--------,
(1993), 'Consciousness: The Cartesian Enigma', in Canfield and Shanker (1993),
pp.173-94.
--------,
(1997), 'Neural Cartesianism: Comments On the Epistemology Of The Cognitive
Sciences', in Johnson and Erneling (1997), pp.293-301.
Coulter, J.,
and Sharrock, W. (2007),
Brain, Mind, And Human Behavior In Contemporary Cognitive Science. Critical
Assessments Of The Philosophy Of Psychology (The Edwin Mellen Press).
Cowie, F.
(1997), 'The Logical Problem Of Language Acquisition', Synthèse111,
pp.17-51.
--------,
(1995), Darwin's Dangerous Idea (Allen Lane).
Descartes, R., (1997a), Descartes Key
Philosophical Writings, translated by E. S. Haldane and G. T. R. Ross
(Wordsworth Classics).
--------, (1997b), Discourse On The Method,
in Descartes (1997a), pp.71-122. [This links to a different translation.]
Deutscher,
G. (2011), Through The Language Glass. Why The World Looks Different In Other
Languages (Arrow Books).
Dever, J.
(2008), 'Compositionality', in Lepore and Smith, pp.633-66.
Devitt, M.
(2006), Ignorance Of Language (Oxford University Press).
Diamond, C. (1995), The Realistic
Spirit
(MIT Press).
--------, (1997), 'Realism And
Resolution: Reply To Warren Goldfarb And Sabina Lovibond', Journal of
Philosophical Research
22, pp.75-86.
--------,
(1999), 'How Old Are These Bones. Putnam, Wittgenstein And Verification',
Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society Supplementary Volume73,
pp.99-134.
--------,
(2010), 'Inheriting From Frege: The Work Of Reception, As Wittgenstein Did It',
in Potter and Ricketts, pp.550-601.
Dreyfus, H.
(1992), What Computers Still Can't Do (MIT Press). [There is an extended
summary of this book
here, and a discussion
here.]
Dummett, M. (1956), 'Nominalism',
Philosophical Review65, 491-505, reprinted in Klemke (1968),
pp.321-36.
--------, (1959), 'Wittgenstein's Philosophy Of
Mathematics', Philosophical Review68, pp.324-48, reprinted in Benacerraf and Putnam (1964), pp.491-509, in
Dummett (1978), pp.166-85, and in Pitcher (1968), pp.420-47.
--------, (1978), Truth And Other
Enigmas
(Duckworth).
--------, (1981a), Frege. Philosophy
Of Language (Duckworth, 2nd
ed.).
--------,
(1981b), The Interpretation Of Frege's Philosophy (Duckworth).
--------,
(1981c), 'Frege And Wittgenstein', in Block (1981), pp.31-42, reprinted in
Dummett (1991b), pp.237-48.
--------, (1984), 'An Unsuccessful Dig', Philosophical Quarterly34,
pp.379-401, reprinted in Wright (1984), pp.194-226, and, with a few changes, in
Dummett (1991b), pp.158-98.
--------, (1987), 'Frege And The Paradox Of Analysis', a lecture given at
Bologna University, reprinted in Dummett (1991b), pp.17-52.
--------, (1988), 'A Reply To "Dummett's Dig", by Baker And Hacker',
Philosophical Quarterly38, pp.87-103; revised and reprinted as
'Second Thoughts' in Dummett (1991b), pp.199-216.
--------, (1990), 'Language And
Communication', in George (1990), pp.192-212; reprinted in Dummett (1993a),
pp.166-87.
--------,
(1991a),
Frege. Philosophy Of Mathematics (Duckworth).
--------,
(1991b), Frege And Other Philosophers (Oxford University Press).
--------,
(1993a), The Seas Of Language (Oxford University Press).
--------,
(1993b), Origins Of Analytic Philosophy (Duckworth).
Dunbar, R.,
Knight, C., and Power, C. (1999) (eds.), The Evolution Of Culture
(Edinburgh University Press).
Dupré, J.
(1991), 'Conversations With Apes. Reflections On The Scientific Study Of
Language', in Hyman (1991), pp.95-116, reprinted in Dupré (2002), pp.236-56.
--------,
(2001), Human Nature And The Limits Of Science (Oxford University Press).
--------,
(2002), Humans And Other Animals
(Oxford University Press).
--------,
(2003a), Darwin's Legacy. What Evolution Means Today (Oxford University
Press).
--------,
(2003b), 'On
Human Nature', Journal of the Slovakian Academy of
Sciences 13, pp.109-22, and Human
Affairs, 13, 2, pp.109-22.
--------,
(2012), Processes Of Life. Essays On The Philosophy Of Biology (Oxford
University Press).
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(1997), The Search For The Perfect Language (Fontana).
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(1995) (ed.),
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(1996), Reinventing Darwin. The Great Evolutionary Debate (Phoenix
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--------,
(2004),
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(1993), Understanding Language Acquisition (SUNY Press).
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--------,
(2012), Language: The Cultural Tool (Profile Books).
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(1995), 'Psychology', in Barnes (1995), pp.168-94.
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