JM:
To get back to business . . . can we talk about the place of language in the mind?
NC:
OK.
JM:
It's not a peripheral system; you've mentioned that it has some of the characteristics of a central system. What do you mean by that?
NC:
Well, peripheral systems are systems that are input systems and output systems. So, the
visual system receives data from the outside and transmits some information to the inside. And the articulatory system takes some information from the inside and does some things, and has an effect on the outside world. That's what input and output systems are. Language makes use of those systems, obviously; I'm hearing what you say and I'm producing something. But that's just something being done
with
language. There's some internal system that you and I pretty much share that enables the noises that I make to get into your auditory system and the internal system that you have is doing something with those noises and understanding them pretty much the way my own internal system is creating them. And those are systems of knowledge; those are fixed capacities. If that's not an internal system, I don't know what the word means.
JM:
OK; there are other systems, such as facial recognition. That also is not a peripheral system. It gets information from the visual system
.
NC:
Well, the facial recognition system is an input system, but of course it makes use of internal knowledge that you have about how to interpret faces. People interpret faces very differently from other objects. Show a person a face upside down; he or she can't recognize it.
JM:
So it's not sufficient (to be a central system) that it get information from some other system
.
NC:
All kinds of internal processing is going on – thinking, whatever that is. And most of it is totally unconscious and beyond the reach of consciousness.
But there's plenty of evidence that it's going on. The evidence, of course, is always from the outside. Even if you're doing brain imaging, you're getting evidence of the effects of the internal object; but that evidence pretty conclusively shows that plenty of mental internal operations are going on, using systems of knowledge, interpretation, planning,
action, and so on. And language just seems to be one of them. It may well be the one that binds them all together. In fact, that's been proposed in a clear form by people like
Elizabeth Spelke (
2003
,
2004
,
2007
) at
Harvard. She's a major cognitive developmental psychologist, who argues that in her work (with children, mainly) that as language
capacities appear to be developing they're always there, but they don't manifest themselves until certain ages. As they begin to manifest themselves, you get interactions among different other kinds of cognitive activity. There are primitive forms of recognition of, say, where you are and where you ought to go that are shared right through the mammalian kingdom and they are used by children. There are more sophisticated ones that are used by adults. So a young child can learn about the difference between a blue wall and a red wall, as can a rat. But if you want to learn about the difference between, say, to my left and to my right, or some more complicated thing that is much more complex – well, she argues that these more complex capacities seem to be integrated at about the time that the language capacities are manifested, and therefore she suggests, plausibly, that the language capacities facilitate this kind of interaction – which certainly makes sense.
The archeological-anthropological record suggests similar conclusions. As mentioned before, there is what is sometimes called a “
great leap forward” in human evolution in a period roughly 50,000–100,000 years ago, when the archeological record suddenly changes
radically. There are all sorts of indications of a creative imagination, planning, sophisticated use of tools, art, symbolic representation, and taking careful note of external events, such as phases of the moon, things like that. And it looks as though that is about the time that whatever put language together emerged. So it's not an unreasonable speculation that they're connected. If some hominid has a language capacity, it can plan, it can think, it can interpret, it can imagine other situations – alternative situations that aren't around – and make choices among them, or have attitudes toward them. At some stage it can convey some of that to others. All of that could well be the source of whatever brings together the other various capacities, which probably existed – at least, in some rudimentary, unsophisticated form – brought them together and gave rise to this evidence of sudden complex, creative activity.
JM:
It's almost certain that language has the place of constituting or providing much more complicated, much more complex, highly structured forms of conceptual ‘objects’ – offering a conceptual range that is just not available to other types of creatures. But it sounds as if language, having that kind of capacity – and being given the capacity of coordinating, and perhaps even integrating information from other systems – that . . .
NC:
And also innovating. Language doesn't just bring together information; it's no recording device. We know this by introspection – you can think about what the world would be like if you chose this course and not that course. In fact, you can imagine things that can't even be physically realized. There's a range of possible creative activities available to you – to some extent, you have that available from other internal systems too; with vision, you can imagine pictures, that sort of thing – but it's far richer when you can actually formulate internal expressions. You have propositional attitudes; descriptions of possible organizations and interactions between people; possible physical events, and so on. And that's available to you if you have internal language; we all know it, just by introspection. We all have that capacity. And presumably our hominid ancestors at that point had the same capacity.
One thing we're pretty certain about is that existing humans are virtually identical in this respect. Which means that whatever it was that gave us this capacity – it couldn't have happened later than about fifty thousand
years ago, which is about when the trek from Africa starts. In fact, it's likely that whatever happened led to the trek from Africa. Hominids physically very much like us were there for hundreds of thousands of years – as far as the archeological record shows. And it began with a small group, one of many small breeding groups. And that one suddenly exploded all over the world. It's hard to imagine that that's not related to the same developments that led to the human capacity to innovate.
JM:
But if language has this role in the mind, is there any need for what Jerry Fodor used to think of as a ‘central processor’? Isn't it sort of taking over the role of the homunculus – being that, whatever it is, that coordinates and brings together all kinds of information, makes decisions, and so on . . .
NC:
Is it
the
central processor? How could you know? Probably not, I would guess. There are ways of integrating, say, sound, and smell, and sight, that you wouldn't even know how to describe in language. And they're certainly part of life. I imagine that there have to be central processors for that.
One suggestion that Jerry [Fodor] proposes which seems to me to require more evidence is that there is a language of thought.
And the question is
whether the language of thought is any different from whatever our universal, internal language is. As far as I can see, we can't tell anything about the language of thought other than it's a reflection of whatever our language is. And if it's true – as it is likely – that the existing and, indeed, the attainable languages are only superficially different, then the core that they share has a good claim to be the language of thought – so far as I can see.
JM:
What, then, about the sciences? They seem to have a syntax that is far different from the syntax of natural languages
.
NC:
Not only that, but they seem to operate in different ways. There is a debate about this.
There are people like Sue Carey, for example, who tried to show that our scientific capacities are just the natural development of our ordinary commonsense capacities for reasoning, exploration, and so on. I'm not convinced. I've got a feeling that science involves quite different capacities of mind.
There's really no serious evidence on these things. But if you just look at the history of the sciences, it looks also as if there was also a great
leap forward, but much later, and – unlike the one that came about through language – presumably requiring no biological change. It's not that there weren't precursors, but around the seventeenth century, the attitude toward investigating and understanding the world just changed radically. Right around the time of
Newton, there was a dramatic change – so dramatic, that Newton – who basically helped create it – couldn't accept it. The previous assumption – without anybody actually saying it exactly – was that the world was intelligible. God made it perfect, and if we're smart enough, we can see how he did it, and it will be intelligible to us. All we have to do is work hard. The core psychological effect of Newton's discoveries, I think, is that that's not true. It involves what are to us, intuitively, mysterious forces. That's why Newton resisted his own conclusions, which effectively undermined what was called the “mechanical philosophy” – the idea that the world works like a machine, with gears, levers, and things pushing each other, kind of like a medieval clock. It should be something like that. But what he showed is that it just isn't true.
JM:
Is this the end of folk physics and folk psychology?
NC:
This is the end of folk physics. Folk psychology is not refuted. It just doesn't work for physics. The Cartesian mechanics was a sketch of something that was a kind of folk physics. It's our commonsense understanding of how the world works. If I hit that over there, it will move. But I can't
move that thing just by moving my arm. It's intuitively obvious that I can't move it by moving my arm; but it just happens to be false. The idea that there are principles of action and reaction,
interaction, growth, development, and so on, that are just not of the mechanical type – over time, it caused a real shift in the standards of intelligibility for science. It's not the world that's going to be intelligible; we give that up. But the
theories have to be intelligible. So we want intelligible theories of the world that we can work with and that meet our epistemological criteria, which are just other aspects of our cognitive system. And then science goes off on quite a different course. It's not that people give up the commonsense models; talk to a mathematician studying some abstract topic in topology, and in his study, he's probably drawing pictures and thinking about them, and so on. But you know that there's a gap, and that your intuitive,
commonsense understanding of the world is simply not a guide to what the world is. That's an important change, and it leads in other directions. It's only happened in small areas of science. Nevertheless, it's quite clear that the other picture of the world – the scientific one – is quite different from the commonsense.
It goes until very recent times. Until the 1920s, chemistry wasn't considered part of the core sciences, but a means of calculation, because it just had these pictures and diagrams and so on, from which you could get very good approximations to the results of experiments. But it was regarded by many leading scientists as a mode of calculation only; it can't be real. It wasn't reducible to physics as then understood. That was because, for reasons that were later discovered, physics just didn't have the conceptual tools needed to incorporate it.
Physics underwent another radical change and became even more unintelligible from the commonsense point of view – although the theory, of course, is intelligible. And then chemistry becomes part of the natural sciences. And so it continues.
If you take a look today at the debates that are going on about ‘psychological
reality’: can the mind be following the rules, and so on and so forth – you'll see that they're very similar to the debates going on in the 1920s as to whether chemistry can be ‘real.’ What do you mean, chemistry is following laws? Show me how to explain what you observe in terms of Newtonian mechanics, or something else I understand.
JM:
That particular dispute – whether the mind is following rules or laws, or whether they're ‘psychologically real’ – has been around at least since
Helmholtz, with his idea that the mind somehow carries out inferences, and does so in the case of vision, audition, and faculties like that
.
NC:
Yes, these ideas keep coming back; it was a Cartesian issue too, in a way.
1
The modern debates about psychological reality in linguistics and cognitive processing – computer metaphors, and so on – they're very similar to the arguments about chemistry and the Bohr atom back in the 1920s. Now it's “How can you explain it in neurophysiological terms?” You can't. But you couldn't explain chemistry in physical terms, as physics was understood then. The conclusion at the time was that there's some problem with chemistry. Later, it was understood that there was some problem with
physics. Do we know more about neurophysiology today than people did about physics back in the 1920s? Far from it; quite the opposite. You have to know that you're looking at the right things. And there's nothing in the way of any depth of theory. There's a slogan – that the mind is neurophysiology at a more abstract level. But chemistry wasn't physics at a more abstract level, as it turned out. Rather, a new physics came along, which was chemistry at a different level. And we don't know that that won't happen in the study of mind.