Read The Science of Language Online
Authors: Noam Chomsky
The Science of Language (24 page)
So it turns out that the distinctive difference between humans and other primates lies largely in the fact that we have an instinct they do not: language.
Introducing language allows reason to develop. We are also invited to rethink our view of animals, of course: they need not be conceived as deterministic natural machines, as Descartes thought – although incorrectly, because as Newton showed, there are no such things. No doubt many animals also have concepts, minds, freedom, intention, etc. However, they don't have what we have, language and recursion.
Introducing language allows reason to develop. We are also invited to rethink our view of animals, of course: they need not be conceived as deterministic natural machines, as Descartes thought – although incorrectly, because as Newton showed, there are no such things. No doubt many animals also have concepts, minds, freedom, intention, etc. However, they don't have what we have, language and recursion.
That said, keep in mind that it is quite possible, even likely, that it is not just the fact that we have language that accounts for the differences in human cognitive capacities (in “reason”), but that our concepts are just different from animals’. There is more on this in
Appendix V
. First, though, Chomsky
clarifies what Merge amounts to, how it operates, and what it gives the human species. He begins with an account of the relationship between language and another
cognitive benefit of recursion apparently unique to the human species – mathematics, especially the natural numbers. And he offers a very interesting explanation of one respect in which natural languages differ from another form in which humans employ ‘symbols.’ We produce and use invented, formal systems such as those found in advanced forms of mathematics and in the natural sciences. No other creature does, of course. And no doubt our capacity to invent these symbol systems depends in part on our having language. These formal systems differ from natural language not only
in the fact that they are invented, that they are artifacts, where our languages and our concepts (and linguistic sounds) are not. They differ also in that at least some of them depend heavily on natural languages, at least with regard to making them learnable. Arithmetic is plausibly an exception, as hinted in the discussion in the main text. For arithmetic is as suggested there a product of internal Merge operating over a lexicon with a single element, and it is a very impoverished natural language. I thank Chomsky for pointing this out to me.
Appendix V
. First, though, Chomsky
clarifies what Merge amounts to, how it operates, and what it gives the human species. He begins with an account of the relationship between language and another
cognitive benefit of recursion apparently unique to the human species – mathematics, especially the natural numbers. And he offers a very interesting explanation of one respect in which natural languages differ from another form in which humans employ ‘symbols.’ We produce and use invented, formal systems such as those found in advanced forms of mathematics and in the natural sciences. No other creature does, of course. And no doubt our capacity to invent these symbol systems depends in part on our having language. These formal systems differ from natural language not only
in the fact that they are invented, that they are artifacts, where our languages and our concepts (and linguistic sounds) are not. They differ also in that at least some of them depend heavily on natural languages, at least with regard to making them learnable. Arithmetic is plausibly an exception, as hinted in the discussion in the main text. For arithmetic is as suggested there a product of internal Merge operating over a lexicon with a single element, and it is a very impoverished natural language. I thank Chomsky for pointing this out to me.
1
In light of some matters discussed later and in the main text at pp. 26–28, I should emphasize that this story presupposes that human concepts were in place before this. As to their origin – assuming that they are in large measure unique to humans – that is something that is likely to remain a mystery. As Lewontin (
1998
) reminds us, there is little (that is, nothing) that one can offer in favor of or against any specific hypothesis.
2
In fact, if it turns out (for discussion, see pp. 11–15) that communication is at best something that language allows for, rather than being central to it, their argument is completely irrelevant.
3
Chomsky suggested to me that it is interesting to speculate about what Descartes would have agreed to, had he had available and held a competence/performance distinction. If he had had this available, he might have agreed that the computational operations of language are inherent in what he would have called “body.” In that regard, look at what he says about vision; I speculate on the matter in a section called “Descartes's Contribution” in my introduction to the third edition of Chomsky's
Cartesian Linguistics
. Keep in mind, though, that when Newton came along, Descartes's notion of body as a scientific concept had to be rejected.
4
Hume, who often appealed to instinct (while insisting that its operations were and would remain obscure), is a partial exception. Like Descartes again, it is interesting to speculate about what he would have maintained, if he had had available a competence/performance distinction. His view of himself as a scientist of human nature makes the speculation even more
interesting.
Chomsky on natural science
Chomsky's discussions of Merge illustrate the fruitfulness of idealizing and simplifying in order to construct a successful science. The point is discussed further in several places in our interchange and very usefully in
Norbert Hornstein's new preface to Chomsky's
Rules and Representations
(
1980
/2005), so I will not pursue it here. Instead, I want to make some further remarks about Chomsky's view of natural science as I understand it.
Norbert Hornstein's new preface to Chomsky's
Rules and Representations
(
1980
/2005), so I will not pursue it here. Instead, I want to make some further remarks about Chomsky's view of natural science as I understand it.
As suggested before, although humans constructing sciences get some help from whatever innate resources lead to our capacity to engage in what
Peirce called “abduction” (see above and below), the sciences themselves – the explicit formal symbol systems that constitute theories – are largely artifacts. They are products of human ingenuity and effort, typically of people working together. And they advance, often, over centuries, leaving still many unanswered questions. They are artifacts put together to do a job because, in effect, science is a project. It is an attempt by humans to construct theories of various domains. In the case of the natural sciences, that job is reasonably well understood, and there is agreement, usually implicit, on the goals. There are, of course, differences between sciences in subject matters (in the ‘entities’ the sciences investigate), in specific research techniques and experimental devices, and – of course – in the laws and principles of the theories. Yet natural
scientists generally aim toward a uniform goal. Their practices reflect what Chomsky calls “methodological monism” (
2000
). Abstracting from differences in experimental techniques, etc., there is sufficient uniformity in the goals of natural scientists, no matter what the science, that the term “monism” (implying a single approach to a domain) is called for. The goal – the “goal of science,” the project the scientist tries to carry out – is to produce a theory of a domain that offers descriptive and explanatory adequacy, that provides formalized (explicit, mathematical) statement, that is simple (in some rather hard to define sense), that aims towards objectivity, and that allows for accommodation to other
sciences. Progress – and progress is necessary, for it is the sign of success – is measured by improvements in one or more of these desiderata.
Peirce called “abduction” (see above and below), the sciences themselves – the explicit formal symbol systems that constitute theories – are largely artifacts. They are products of human ingenuity and effort, typically of people working together. And they advance, often, over centuries, leaving still many unanswered questions. They are artifacts put together to do a job because, in effect, science is a project. It is an attempt by humans to construct theories of various domains. In the case of the natural sciences, that job is reasonably well understood, and there is agreement, usually implicit, on the goals. There are, of course, differences between sciences in subject matters (in the ‘entities’ the sciences investigate), in specific research techniques and experimental devices, and – of course – in the laws and principles of the theories. Yet natural
scientists generally aim toward a uniform goal. Their practices reflect what Chomsky calls “methodological monism” (
2000
). Abstracting from differences in experimental techniques, etc., there is sufficient uniformity in the goals of natural scientists, no matter what the science, that the term “monism” (implying a single approach to a domain) is called for. The goal – the “goal of science,” the project the scientist tries to carry out – is to produce a theory of a domain that offers descriptive and explanatory adequacy, that provides formalized (explicit, mathematical) statement, that is simple (in some rather hard to define sense), that aims towards objectivity, and that allows for accommodation to other
sciences. Progress – and progress is necessary, for it is the sign of success – is measured by improvements in one or more of these desiderata.
The
best theory at a time by these measures offers what counts as a true theory, and it can tentatively be assumed that the subject matter that the theory focuses on is correctly so described and explained. From this perspective, it is plausible to speak of the
project of science as an effort to “seek the truth” about the natural world. Thinking of it as a project constrained by the tools that demonstrably yield success suggests that attempts to construct theories of domains where one or more of the desiderata cannot be satisfied – for example, attempts to construct theories of human action – or where one encounters continued lack of progress, should be abandoned. Failure in certain domains – perhaps those that are too complex, among others – should be no surprise, Chomsky notes. We are biophysical creatures, and there is no reason to expect that our cognitive powers are
anything but limited, just as are those of other creatures. As emphasized in Chomsky (
1988
), that fact is of course to our advantage, for without limitation, there would be no growth, no knowledge . . .
best theory at a time by these measures offers what counts as a true theory, and it can tentatively be assumed that the subject matter that the theory focuses on is correctly so described and explained. From this perspective, it is plausible to speak of the
project of science as an effort to “seek the truth” about the natural world. Thinking of it as a project constrained by the tools that demonstrably yield success suggests that attempts to construct theories of domains where one or more of the desiderata cannot be satisfied – for example, attempts to construct theories of human action – or where one encounters continued lack of progress, should be abandoned. Failure in certain domains – perhaps those that are too complex, among others – should be no surprise, Chomsky notes. We are biophysical creatures, and there is no reason to expect that our cognitive powers are
anything but limited, just as are those of other creatures. As emphasized in Chomsky (
1988
), that fact is of course to our advantage, for without limitation, there would be no growth, no knowledge . . .
Given the points about theories and truth, and given the shape of the theories that we have managed to construct, perhaps we can speculate to an extent about what the world ‘in itself’ is like. For one thing, with the otherwise-explainable exception of biological organisms that develop over time, the world (as we can understand it) seems to have entities and systems that remain quite stable, and to have (within limits) predictable states and consequences. Perhaps this stability depends on maintaining stable structures. For another, these states seem to stand in what for our mathematically and formally endowed minds appear to be simple relations to one another. The claims made by these speculations may, of course, be nothing more than artifacts of our theories. But the surprising – almost miraculous –
success of our formal theory-construction techniques does suggest that our theories track how things are. Remarkably, moreover, the theory-construction goals that have yielded improving sciences in the ‘physical’ domain seem to be equally successful in the ‘mental’ domain. Examples include computational theories of language and vision. This point is emphasized again in later discussion.
success of our formal theory-construction techniques does suggest that our theories track how things are. Remarkably, moreover, the theory-construction goals that have yielded improving sciences in the ‘physical’ domain seem to be equally successful in the ‘mental’ domain. Examples include computational theories of language and vision. This point is emphasized again in later discussion.
Finally, a point about scientific concepts as opposed to those found in common sense. With scientific concepts, it makes no sense to say that somehow they succeed at (we think) tracking the way things are
because
they have their forms and characters as a result of some kind of
evolutionary adaptation. Peirce thought that this sort of explanation was plausible. That
might
make some sense with our commonsense concepts (although see below) because they – or some of them, or (some of) the system(s) that yield them – might have been in place for millennia, allowing for evolutionary adaptation, perhaps through several species (Hauser, Chomsky & Fitch
2002
). However, it makes no sense with concepts such as LEPTON or ALEPH-NULL and the like, or even concepts such as ENERGY, FORCE, or
MOTION as these are understood and employed in physics. As suggested earlier in discussion, no adaptive forces could have yielded them. They are
recent inventions by human beings, and having them apart from the frameworks in which they are lodged – themselves artifacts – could not have provided reproductive or other advantages to humans or other creatures beforehand. Some of the contributions of our minds to the capacity to ‘do science’ and construct scientific theories are no doubt innate, but that is far from claiming that we humans have ‘devoted’ systems yielding the concepts on triggering occasions. If that were the case, constructing adequate sciences would be a lot easier than it is, and in the case of physics, we would not have needed anything like the several centuries it has taken physics to get to the far from complete state it is
now in.
because
they have their forms and characters as a result of some kind of
evolutionary adaptation. Peirce thought that this sort of explanation was plausible. That
might
make some sense with our commonsense concepts (although see below) because they – or some of them, or (some of) the system(s) that yield them – might have been in place for millennia, allowing for evolutionary adaptation, perhaps through several species (Hauser, Chomsky & Fitch
2002
). However, it makes no sense with concepts such as LEPTON or ALEPH-NULL and the like, or even concepts such as ENERGY, FORCE, or
MOTION as these are understood and employed in physics. As suggested earlier in discussion, no adaptive forces could have yielded them. They are
recent inventions by human beings, and having them apart from the frameworks in which they are lodged – themselves artifacts – could not have provided reproductive or other advantages to humans or other creatures beforehand. Some of the contributions of our minds to the capacity to ‘do science’ and construct scientific theories are no doubt innate, but that is far from claiming that we humans have ‘devoted’ systems yielding the concepts on triggering occasions. If that were the case, constructing adequate sciences would be a lot easier than it is, and in the case of physics, we would not have needed anything like the several centuries it has taken physics to get to the far from complete state it is
now in.
V.1
Concepts and ways of going wrong
Concepts and ways of going wrong
Almost everyone who allows that there are concepts agrees that word-like units express at least some concepts, that concepts are at least in part mental ‘entities,’ and that it is through concepts that minds gain access to the world. But there is not much else that people agree on.
Some approaches to concepts – those that adopt anti-nativist and externalist empiricist views – need mention only in order to reject them. A
dominant version of an empiricist view is found in what is called “
functionalism” in the philosophy of mind. Essentially, the functionalist maintains that concepts are the (epistemic) roles/functions of linguistic tokens in mental transactions that mediate perceptual/sensory inputs and
behavioral outputs. Wilfrid Sellars's view of mind, discussed in several other appendices and at some risk of tedium, again below, is an example; he presents what is sometimes called a “conceptual role” view of words and the concepts they express. Words are seen not as Chomsky construes them – lexical items – but as ‘things’ of some sort (perhaps neural nodes, perhaps computer binary coding that is electronically instantiated) that function in computational systems that deal with the world and ‘solve problems’ in epistemically reliable ways. Functionalism can take several forms, including
behaviorist and connectionist ones. The basic view is implicit in many psychological and philosophical works, including some of the most famous. Moreover, it is popular not just in the philosophy of mind but the philosophy of language. Because functionalists suppose that the mind/brain is something like a causal system that takes perceptual inputs, subjects them to computational operations thought of in terms of (epistemic) rule-following programs that yield reliable answers to environmentally set problems in order to yield successful behaviors or actions, it is easy to see their empiricist pedigree. One studies the mind as if it were a reliable mediator of external inputs and outputs (a version of externalism). And one conceives of the mind as gaining its capacity to act in a reliable way by virtue of habituating oneself to a linguistic community's settled epistemic habits, a rejection of nativism. Having begun with these assumptions about mind and
how to proceed, one is invited to adopt others popular among empiricist approaches – that identifying a concept is a ‘holistic’ matter so that to identify a specific one, you must know its ‘place’ (role, function) in a cluster of concepts; that understanding is a matter of knowing/having a (holistic)
theory about the world; that having a language is a kind of know-how; that learning a language is developing a (good, reliable) theory of the world; that learning a language is being trained to produce what the community takes to be correct behaviors/responses; and so on. While these kinds of views dominate philosophical and psychological discussion, they solve no problems. In fact, because they begin with the wrong assumptions about how to proceed in studying the mind and its contents, they create puzzles and mysteries. The empiricist approach commits the error that
Wittgenstein warned against, trying to construct a theory of highly variable and heavily context- and user-dependent use or application of language. By attempting this anyway, empiricist philosophers and psychologists end up pursuing one or another form of Wittgensteinian
Scheinstreit
. Wittgenstein in his
Philosophical Investigations
pointed out that philosophical problems are not problems; there is no solution to them. They are presented and understood in such a way that solution is impossible. Thus, discussion and dispute is not just endless, but useless. Chomsky appears to be suggesting the same (at least of functionalism and related current philosophical dogmas, such as
representationalism and physicalism [Chomsky
1996
]), and tying this suggestion to a further one: if you want explanations and evidence rather than speculation and the mining of mixed and flexible intuitions that are based on unsupported and unsupportable assumptions about the mind and how to study it, employ the tools of naturalistic research – natural science – and, using these tools, look inside the head, not at heads and worlds and relations between them. That seems to be the only workable “game in town,” to use Jerry Fodor's phrase, but for a different end than his representationalist-externalist effort.
dominant version of an empiricist view is found in what is called “
functionalism” in the philosophy of mind. Essentially, the functionalist maintains that concepts are the (epistemic) roles/functions of linguistic tokens in mental transactions that mediate perceptual/sensory inputs and
behavioral outputs. Wilfrid Sellars's view of mind, discussed in several other appendices and at some risk of tedium, again below, is an example; he presents what is sometimes called a “conceptual role” view of words and the concepts they express. Words are seen not as Chomsky construes them – lexical items – but as ‘things’ of some sort (perhaps neural nodes, perhaps computer binary coding that is electronically instantiated) that function in computational systems that deal with the world and ‘solve problems’ in epistemically reliable ways. Functionalism can take several forms, including
behaviorist and connectionist ones. The basic view is implicit in many psychological and philosophical works, including some of the most famous. Moreover, it is popular not just in the philosophy of mind but the philosophy of language. Because functionalists suppose that the mind/brain is something like a causal system that takes perceptual inputs, subjects them to computational operations thought of in terms of (epistemic) rule-following programs that yield reliable answers to environmentally set problems in order to yield successful behaviors or actions, it is easy to see their empiricist pedigree. One studies the mind as if it were a reliable mediator of external inputs and outputs (a version of externalism). And one conceives of the mind as gaining its capacity to act in a reliable way by virtue of habituating oneself to a linguistic community's settled epistemic habits, a rejection of nativism. Having begun with these assumptions about mind and
how to proceed, one is invited to adopt others popular among empiricist approaches – that identifying a concept is a ‘holistic’ matter so that to identify a specific one, you must know its ‘place’ (role, function) in a cluster of concepts; that understanding is a matter of knowing/having a (holistic)
theory about the world; that having a language is a kind of know-how; that learning a language is developing a (good, reliable) theory of the world; that learning a language is being trained to produce what the community takes to be correct behaviors/responses; and so on. While these kinds of views dominate philosophical and psychological discussion, they solve no problems. In fact, because they begin with the wrong assumptions about how to proceed in studying the mind and its contents, they create puzzles and mysteries. The empiricist approach commits the error that
Wittgenstein warned against, trying to construct a theory of highly variable and heavily context- and user-dependent use or application of language. By attempting this anyway, empiricist philosophers and psychologists end up pursuing one or another form of Wittgensteinian
Scheinstreit
. Wittgenstein in his
Philosophical Investigations
pointed out that philosophical problems are not problems; there is no solution to them. They are presented and understood in such a way that solution is impossible. Thus, discussion and dispute is not just endless, but useless. Chomsky appears to be suggesting the same (at least of functionalism and related current philosophical dogmas, such as
representationalism and physicalism [Chomsky
1996
]), and tying this suggestion to a further one: if you want explanations and evidence rather than speculation and the mining of mixed and flexible intuitions that are based on unsupported and unsupportable assumptions about the mind and how to study it, employ the tools of naturalistic research – natural science – and, using these tools, look inside the head, not at heads and worlds and relations between them. That seems to be the only workable “game in town,” to use Jerry Fodor's phrase, but for a different end than his representationalist-externalist effort.
Because Fodor's (
1998
) view of mind and concepts assumes nativism, it is a useful counterpoint to Chomsky's views. He offers a variation on a Fregean account of words and the concepts they express.
Words express what Frege called “senses,” and these in turn refer to or denote things or properties. Senses can differ even though they denote the same things. Think of Fregean senses as ways in which denotations can be “presented.” A denotation can be the same even though it is differently presented – it is denoted by different senses. A standard example is this: the words “morning star” and “evening star” denote the same thing (Venus), but differ in how they ‘present’ Venus; they differ in sense. Fodor psychologizes Frege's senses and calls them “modes of
presentation,” or MOPs. What, then, is a concept? One might think that a concept is a MOP. It is, after all, what is in the head; it also develops automatically (Fodor
1998
,
2008
). However, Fodor with his externalist
inclinations – clearly visible in his “
representational theory of mind,” among other manifestations – wants to identify concepts in terms of their “wide content” which is, essentially, what he believes he can show MOPs are
of
or refer to (their denotations). Essentially, he claims that the MOP for, say
water
develops automatically in a person as a result of some kind of causal informational relationship to – or predominantly to – water ‘out there,’ and that this causal relationship also establishes an inverse semantic relation, denotation, so that the water-MOP denotes the property
being water
‘out there’ (and, he insists,
being H
2
O
‘out there’ too). Some of the errors with this view are taken up in the discussion in the main text. There is nothing wrong with holding that MOPs are acquired by some kind of causal relationship; any nativist account holds that concepts develop as a result of some kind of ‘triggering’ relationship. But there is no reason to believe that a semantic relationship of denotation piggybacks on the world–head causal triggering relationship. For further discussion, see my (2002a and 2010). In any case, because both MOP and (supposed) denotation figure in Fodor's account, we can for our purposes think of Fodor as identifying a concept with a pair consisting of a MOP and some property ‘out there.’
1998
) view of mind and concepts assumes nativism, it is a useful counterpoint to Chomsky's views. He offers a variation on a Fregean account of words and the concepts they express.
Words express what Frege called “senses,” and these in turn refer to or denote things or properties. Senses can differ even though they denote the same things. Think of Fregean senses as ways in which denotations can be “presented.” A denotation can be the same even though it is differently presented – it is denoted by different senses. A standard example is this: the words “morning star” and “evening star” denote the same thing (Venus), but differ in how they ‘present’ Venus; they differ in sense. Fodor psychologizes Frege's senses and calls them “modes of
presentation,” or MOPs. What, then, is a concept? One might think that a concept is a MOP. It is, after all, what is in the head; it also develops automatically (Fodor
1998
,
2008
). However, Fodor with his externalist
inclinations – clearly visible in his “
representational theory of mind,” among other manifestations – wants to identify concepts in terms of their “wide content” which is, essentially, what he believes he can show MOPs are
of
or refer to (their denotations). Essentially, he claims that the MOP for, say
water
develops automatically in a person as a result of some kind of causal informational relationship to – or predominantly to – water ‘out there,’ and that this causal relationship also establishes an inverse semantic relation, denotation, so that the water-MOP denotes the property
being water
‘out there’ (and, he insists,
being H
2
O
‘out there’ too). Some of the errors with this view are taken up in the discussion in the main text. There is nothing wrong with holding that MOPs are acquired by some kind of causal relationship; any nativist account holds that concepts develop as a result of some kind of ‘triggering’ relationship. But there is no reason to believe that a semantic relationship of denotation piggybacks on the world–head causal triggering relationship. For further discussion, see my (2002a and 2010). In any case, because both MOP and (supposed) denotation figure in Fodor's account, we can for our purposes think of Fodor as identifying a concept with a pair consisting of a MOP and some property ‘out there.’
So far as I can tell,
Chomsky's view of concepts – one that is nativist like Fodor's but, unlike Fodor's, internalist – differs from Fodor's in three central ways. Unlike Fodor, he seriously doubts that denotations serve to individuate concepts. For reasons that were well explored by rationalists in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, he holds that the only fruitful way to distinguish one concept from another is to look to the concepts in the head themselves and construct a naturalistic theory of them. That is, one should aim to construct a theory of something
like
Fodor's modes of presentation or MOPs, not of relations to what he claims are their denotations. For MOPs – as even Fodor grants
1
– have the natures they do not because of what causes them, but because the mind configures them in ways that suit its own machinery's agenda. If you want to know what a concept is, look at what the mind makes it be; nativism and its implicit internalism are fine, representationalism and externalism are not. Chomsky's view is tied to the idea, often presented and defended by him, that
referring or denoting is something that people do – a form of (free) human action – not some kind of ‘natural’ relationship, as Fodor wants to believe. It is also tied to the view that
human cognitive resources are limited, and that the only readily available ‘access to the world’ that all humans have available to them is provided by the biophysically based cognitive resources offered by innate concepts – in effect, by the
commonsense concepts that children and others readily acquire, without training. No doubt at least some humans now do have other sets of concepts available to them, of course – those found in the various natural sciences, which are to a large extent human inventions, and by no means readily available to the child or even the adult unfamiliar with the theories in which the science's concepts are defined and configured. Pace Fodor (and Putnam, Kripke, and many others) these concepts and the access to the world that they afford reinforce the point that it does little good to try to individuate native commonsense concepts by appeal to denotations. H
2
O, and even more tellingly the various structurally different states of it investigated by the sciences (see Chomsky on H
2
O in
Appendix I
), is not at all what people are talking about when they speak of water, using the commonsense concept WATER. The problem lies in Fodor's externalist-representationalist hopes.
2
Chomsky's view of concepts – one that is nativist like Fodor's but, unlike Fodor's, internalist – differs from Fodor's in three central ways. Unlike Fodor, he seriously doubts that denotations serve to individuate concepts. For reasons that were well explored by rationalists in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, he holds that the only fruitful way to distinguish one concept from another is to look to the concepts in the head themselves and construct a naturalistic theory of them. That is, one should aim to construct a theory of something
like
Fodor's modes of presentation or MOPs, not of relations to what he claims are their denotations. For MOPs – as even Fodor grants
1
– have the natures they do not because of what causes them, but because the mind configures them in ways that suit its own machinery's agenda. If you want to know what a concept is, look at what the mind makes it be; nativism and its implicit internalism are fine, representationalism and externalism are not. Chomsky's view is tied to the idea, often presented and defended by him, that
referring or denoting is something that people do – a form of (free) human action – not some kind of ‘natural’ relationship, as Fodor wants to believe. It is also tied to the view that
human cognitive resources are limited, and that the only readily available ‘access to the world’ that all humans have available to them is provided by the biophysically based cognitive resources offered by innate concepts – in effect, by the
commonsense concepts that children and others readily acquire, without training. No doubt at least some humans now do have other sets of concepts available to them, of course – those found in the various natural sciences, which are to a large extent human inventions, and by no means readily available to the child or even the adult unfamiliar with the theories in which the science's concepts are defined and configured. Pace Fodor (and Putnam, Kripke, and many others) these concepts and the access to the world that they afford reinforce the point that it does little good to try to individuate native commonsense concepts by appeal to denotations. H
2
O, and even more tellingly the various structurally different states of it investigated by the sciences (see Chomsky on H
2
O in
Appendix I
), is not at all what people are talking about when they speak of water, using the commonsense concept WATER. The problem lies in Fodor's externalist-representationalist hopes.
2
Another major way in which Chomsky differs from Fodor is in his view of the need for introducing what Fodor calls a “language of thought,” or LOT (Chomsky
2000
). Chomsky seems to have several reasons for doubting the value of postulating such a thing/system. One has to do with the complications that a LOT adds to the science of natural language and, presumably, other systems that contribute to concepts. If syntactically described elements at the
language faculty's
semantic interface must be linked to the ‘right’ concept(s) in a separate system – that is, the LOT – in order to say what a specific set of syntactic elements ‘means,’ the theorist must (1) say what this link is, (2) how it is established (how it is acquired/learned) and (3) what is ‘in’ the LOT to link to. If instead the ‘semantic contribution’ of the language faculty at SEM – expressed in theoretical terms in Chomsky's view by stating which semantic features appear there – is taken (as it is by Chomsky) to constitute what an expression ‘means,’ period, there is no linking, acquisition, or specification problem. In effect, a particular SEM becomes a particular complex sentential “mode of presentation,” or at least, the language faculty's contribution to such a MOP (with the rest of the MOP provided by the mental systems with which language interfaces, if any).
3
Further, given that the relevant ‘semantic information’ in the form of semantic features must be
lodged in some way in the lexicon, and assuming that these features are taken to constitute (at least a major part of) the ‘semantic information’ offered in a commonsense concept, the issue of how one acquires the capacity to express the semantic resources contained in commonsense concepts of the sort that Fodor focuses on can be understood as the issue of what ‘semantic information’ can be placed in a lexical item, where an association between a linguistic ‘sound’ and ‘meaning’ (a set of semantic features) is assumed. And further still, assuming that one can state what the relevant features are, one also has a way of investigating, at least in principle, how human concepts differ from animals’ concepts, if they do;
Fodor simply assumes that they are the same, for he assumes that we share the LOT with other creatures. One can do all this while maintaining the internalist principles that Chomsky holds, without any LOT – assuming there is such a thing, for all we have really been told is that the LOT is English (or French, etc.), and English, French . . . are themselves highly suspect entities, since their provenance is the commonsense notion of language, nothing at all like I-languages. Given all these advantages (economy, etc), for purposes of avoiding what appears to be confusion and the pursuit of dead ends, it is unfortunate that the
science of semantic features is still in its early stages and so cannot yet be seen as the only plausible approach for the scientist of language to pursue. Nevertheless, there is some progress (noted below), and to anyone who has reason to believe on independent grounds that the internalist approach – as realized in some form – is the only plausible one, there is no alternative.
2000
). Chomsky seems to have several reasons for doubting the value of postulating such a thing/system. One has to do with the complications that a LOT adds to the science of natural language and, presumably, other systems that contribute to concepts. If syntactically described elements at the
language faculty's
semantic interface must be linked to the ‘right’ concept(s) in a separate system – that is, the LOT – in order to say what a specific set of syntactic elements ‘means,’ the theorist must (1) say what this link is, (2) how it is established (how it is acquired/learned) and (3) what is ‘in’ the LOT to link to. If instead the ‘semantic contribution’ of the language faculty at SEM – expressed in theoretical terms in Chomsky's view by stating which semantic features appear there – is taken (as it is by Chomsky) to constitute what an expression ‘means,’ period, there is no linking, acquisition, or specification problem. In effect, a particular SEM becomes a particular complex sentential “mode of presentation,” or at least, the language faculty's contribution to such a MOP (with the rest of the MOP provided by the mental systems with which language interfaces, if any).
3
Further, given that the relevant ‘semantic information’ in the form of semantic features must be
lodged in some way in the lexicon, and assuming that these features are taken to constitute (at least a major part of) the ‘semantic information’ offered in a commonsense concept, the issue of how one acquires the capacity to express the semantic resources contained in commonsense concepts of the sort that Fodor focuses on can be understood as the issue of what ‘semantic information’ can be placed in a lexical item, where an association between a linguistic ‘sound’ and ‘meaning’ (a set of semantic features) is assumed. And further still, assuming that one can state what the relevant features are, one also has a way of investigating, at least in principle, how human concepts differ from animals’ concepts, if they do;
Fodor simply assumes that they are the same, for he assumes that we share the LOT with other creatures. One can do all this while maintaining the internalist principles that Chomsky holds, without any LOT – assuming there is such a thing, for all we have really been told is that the LOT is English (or French, etc.), and English, French . . . are themselves highly suspect entities, since their provenance is the commonsense notion of language, nothing at all like I-languages. Given all these advantages (economy, etc), for purposes of avoiding what appears to be confusion and the pursuit of dead ends, it is unfortunate that the
science of semantic features is still in its early stages and so cannot yet be seen as the only plausible approach for the scientist of language to pursue. Nevertheless, there is some progress (noted below), and to anyone who has reason to believe on independent grounds that the internalist approach – as realized in some form – is the only plausible one, there is no alternative.
A third difference is that by assuming that ‘lexical’ concepts (those concepts expressed by words, not sentences) can be characterized by multiple semantic features, Chomsky allows for the idea that what Fodor calls “lexical” concepts are ‘
analyzable,’ or ‘compositional’ rather than (as Fodor insists) ‘atomic.’ In essence, Chomsky allows that natural-
language-expressed MOPs can be the targets of a compositional theory of concepts, an internalist one that develops the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century rationalists’ view that if you want to know what a concept is, look in the mind. Comments in the main text reflect an inclination to adopt concept complexity and compositionality. There are various ways of massaging both Fodor's atomic view of concepts and a Chomskyan (potentially) compositional one, but they can for our purposes be ignored. In any case, since semantic features figure heavily in the reconstruction above of Chomsky's view of concepts, I will assume that attempting to construct a theory of them and how they are ‘put together’ in accord with biophysical principles is a reasonable way to proceed in developing a naturalistic nativist and internalist theory of concepts.
analyzable,’ or ‘compositional’ rather than (as Fodor insists) ‘atomic.’ In essence, Chomsky allows that natural-
language-expressed MOPs can be the targets of a compositional theory of concepts, an internalist one that develops the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century rationalists’ view that if you want to know what a concept is, look in the mind. Comments in the main text reflect an inclination to adopt concept complexity and compositionality. There are various ways of massaging both Fodor's atomic view of concepts and a Chomskyan (potentially) compositional one, but they can for our purposes be ignored. In any case, since semantic features figure heavily in the reconstruction above of Chomsky's view of concepts, I will assume that attempting to construct a theory of them and how they are ‘put together’ in accord with biophysical principles is a reasonable way to proceed in developing a naturalistic nativist and internalist theory of concepts.
While a
science of concepts/MOPs expressed in terms of semantic features is in its early stages, it does appear to be a reasonable project. And there has
been some progress. Features such as CONCRETE, ANIMATE, and the like have long been the focus of lexical concept research. They act as descriptive terms, efforts to capture differences in ‘readings’ of words and sentences. A descriptively adequate theory of semantic features must provide a way to distinguish differences in linguistically expressed concepts, here understood as MOPs.
science of concepts/MOPs expressed in terms of semantic features is in its early stages, it does appear to be a reasonable project. And there has
been some progress. Features such as CONCRETE, ANIMATE, and the like have long been the focus of lexical concept research. They act as descriptive terms, efforts to capture differences in ‘readings’ of words and sentences. A descriptively adequate theory of semantic features must provide a way to distinguish differences in linguistically expressed concepts, here understood as MOPs.
Other books
Zeus (Frozen Origin) by Dawn, Crystal
The Beach House by Mary Alice Monroe
The Outward Urge by John Wyndham
The Accidental Time Traveller by Janis Mackay
Journey of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone
Close Call by Laura DiSilverio
Arrival by Ryk Brown
Eternal: A Seaside/Ruin Crossover Novella (Seaside #6) by Rachel van Dyken