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Finding Language in The Brain - The MIT Press Reader
Finding Language in The Brain - The MIT Press Reader
We can choose the pieces and put them together with some freedom, but not
anything goes. There are rules, constraints. And no half measures. Either a
sound is used in a word, or it’s not; either a word is used in a sentence, or it’s
not. But unlike Lego, language is abstract: Eventually, one runs out of Lego
bricks, whereas there could be no shortage of the sound b, and no cap on
reusing the word “beautiful” in as many utterances as there are beautiful
things to talk about.
Language is a calculus
At this point, most linguists would probably be content with saying that
calculi are handy constructs, tools we need in order to make rational sense of
the jumble that is language. But if pressed, they would admit that the brain
has to be doing some of that stuff, too. When you hear, read, or see “I want
that beautiful tree in our garden,” something inside your head has to put
together those words in the right way — not, say, in the way that yields the
message that I want that tree in our beautiful garden.
Linguists, logicians, and philosophers, for at least the first half of the 20th
century, resisted the idea that language is in the brain. If it is anywhere at all,
they estimated, it is out there, in the community of speakers. For
neurologists such as Paul Broca and Carl Wernicke, active in the second half
of the 19th century, the answer was different. They had shown that lesions
to certain parts of the cerebral cortex could lead to specific disorders of
spoken language, known as “aphasias.” It took an entire century — from
around 1860 to 1960 — for the ideas that language is in the brain and that
language is a calculus to meet, for neurology and linguistics to blend into
neurolinguistics.
If we look at what the brain does while people perform a language task, we
find some of the signatures of a computational system at work. If we record
electric or magnetic fields produced by the brain, for example, we find
signals that are only sensitive to the identity of the sound one is hearing —
say, that it is a b, instead of a d — and not to the pitch, volume, or any other
concrete and contingent features of the speech sound. At some level, the
brain treats each sound as an abstract variable in a calculus: a b like any
other, not this particular b. The brain also reacts differently to grammar
errors, as in “I want that beautiful trees in our garden,” and incongruities of
meaning, as in “I want that beautiful democracy in our garden”: Rules and
constraints matter. We are slowly figuring out how the brain operates with
the abstract system that is language, how it arranges morphemes — the
smallest grammatical units of meaning — into words, words into phrases,
and so on, on the fly. We know that it often looks ahead in time, trying to
anticipate what new information might arrive, and that words and ideas are
combined by a few different operations, not just one, kicking in at slightly
different times and originating in different parts of the brain.
The language-as-calculus idea may well be the best model of language in the
brain we currently have — or perhaps the worst, except for all the others.
Like all ideas in science, it has limitations. Like all crisp, powerful ideas, it
can easily misguide. For example, it may seem to suggest that the language
calculus is a program run by the brain. And in some sense it is, just not in the
familiar sense of personal computers, of software and hardware.
Still, there is a risk we take it too far, that we fail to see the difference
between genuine aspects of the language calculus in the brain and what we
can just model mathematically or simulate easily and elegantly “in silico.” No
climate scientist would think a heat wave is a computational process just
because they can simulate it in a computer. For those who study the mind
and brain, making such distinctions is much harder. Where does the
language calculus begin and end? Is it just about syntax, or do we also
compute sound and meaning? And what about the rich experiential
dimension of language? It is perhaps ironic, but ultimately a blessing, that no
calculus, no algorithm, will give us these answers — only clear thinking,
open criticism, and tireless, imaginative research.
PO S T ED ON N O V 25
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