I used to have a professor in medical school who, when a student gave a particularly murky answer, would hand him a piece of chalk, escort him to the blackboard, and say, “Draw me a picture of it.”
The point is that the picture the psychologist draws, showing stimuli and responses, big S’s and R’s outside the brain, little r’s and r’s inside the brain, with arrows showing the course of nerve impulses along nerves and across synapses, no matter how complicated it is, will not show what happens when a child understands that the sound ball is the name of a class of round objects, or when I say The center is not holding and you understand me.
When the Martian says as much to the psychologist, the latter shrugs. “Well, if you’re interested in such matters, go see a linguist or a semanticist or a transformationalist.”
The Martian is astounded by the runaround. On the one hand he is referred to entire libraries of books about learning theory and stimulus-response theory, factual behavioral science which treats the behavior of both men and beasts. This is what he is looking for — behavior, why men act as they do — but he discovers that these books leave out those very features of language that set it apart from other behavior: for example, that unlike other animals, which learn a very limited repertoire of responses, a four-year-old child can utter and understand an unlimited number of new sentences in his language.
When he mentions this remarkable accomplishment of children, the Martian is referred to linguists who treat the formal and structural features of a body of language.
As for the central phenomenon itself, earthlings seem to know less and, what is more, care less than they do about the back side of the moon.
Could the Martian be mistaken or is it not a fact that earthlings for all their encyclopedic knowledge about the formal and factual aspects of language have managed to straddle the phenomenon itself and miss it?
It is as if neither Dr. Harvey nor anyone else had ever discovered that the heart is a pump and that the blood circulates but in the past three hundred years scientists had amassed huge quantities of data about the chemical reaction of heart muscle, and the composition of blood, had described the distribution of the elements of blood, had made comparisons of the blood systems of thousands of mammals, and, finally, had developed a sophisticated computerized method for calculating the velocity and pressure of the blood in any given artery.
Some scientists, I hasten to add, are more honest. The famous theoretician Noam Chomsky is frank to admit our nearly total ignorance on the subject. He does draw a picture. He indicates the central phenomenon of language by a black box, contents unknown, labeledLAD, the “language acquisition device,” which receives the random input of language a child hears and somehow converts it into the child’s capacity to utter any number of sentences in the language. So certain indeed is Chomsky that what happens inside that box cannot be explained by the S’s and R’s of psychologists that at one time he saw fit to resurrect the old idea of Descartes that only a mind, a mental substance, can account for the extraordinary phenomenon of language. The black box was full of mind stuff, according to Chomsky. Later he said it probably contained computerlike elements.
What is in the black box then, a ghost or a piece of machinery?
How extraordinary, thinks the Martian, that these earthlings who know so much about the back side of the moon know so little about the one observable thing which even Darwin agreed sets them apart from the beasts!
4
If such a gap in our knowledge of language exists, it should undoubtedly be a matter of concern to those interested in that sort of matter — linguists, psychologists, anthropologists, and the like. But if that were all there were to it, the following essays would not have been written, because I have neither the desire nor the competence to venture into theoretical linguistics. It is true that in the end I propose a crude working model, something like Harvey’s notion that perhaps the heart is like a pump, or Malpighi’s hunch that the kidney may be a sort of filter, but only on the grounds that such is the prerogative of the amateur in an area shunned by professionals. Something is better than nothing.
No, what has rather concerned me and fueled my mild obsession over the years has been first the inkling, then the growing conviction, that more is at stake than a theory of language.
It turned out that the quest for a theory of language — that human, uniquely human, all too human behavior — ran head on into the larger question of man himself. If Chomsky, the foremost linguistic theorist of our time, talks one minute about explaining the linguistic capacity as a structure of computerlike components and the next about the mind stuff of Descartes, we can’t escape the conclusion that the newest and most celebrated theory, the transformational linguistics of Chomsky, has landed us in the midst of the oldest and most vexed question of all, the nature of man.
It was no coincidence then when the Martian discovered that earthlings, who have a theory about everything else, do not have a theory about language and do not have a theory about man.
What interested me was the Martian method of taking man as he found him and looking at him as if he were the strangest of fauna, which he is. That is to say, instead of coming at man from the traditional approaches, this or that theological assumption or scientific assumption about the nature of man — and, believe me, when it comes to settling man’s status before the fact, so to speak, scientific theory in the twentieth century can be quite as dogmatic as theological theory in the thirteenth, and perhaps with less sanction — why not come at man like the Martian? Instead of marking him down at the outset as besouled creature or responding organism, why not look at him as he appears, not even as Homo sapiens, because attributing sapience already begs the question, but as Homo loquens, man the talker, or Homo symbolificus, man the symbol-monger? Instead of starting out with such large vexed subjects as soul, mind, ideas, consciousness, why not begin with language, which no one denies, and see how far it takes us toward the rest? Instead of having behaviorists trying to explain language by stimulus-response theory, why not try to account for behaviorists by a larger theory of language (for after all the behavior of behaviorists is notable in that it is not encompassed by behavioral theory: behaviorists not only study responses; they write articles and deliver lectures setting forth what they take to be the truth about responses, and would be offended if anyone suggested that their writings and lectures were nothing more than responses and therefore no more true or false than a dog’s salivation)?
Accordingly, the assumption will be made that current theory of language is incoherent, that the formal-descriptive disciplines of linguistics deal with the products, the corpora, of the language phenomenon, that the factual science of psychology deals with the stimuli and responses of organisms, and that between them lies the terra incognita of the phenomenon itself.
A second assumption is that current theories of man, or rather, I should say, notions, are equally incoherent and that one incoherence has something to do with the other, so much so indeed that one suspects that the latter can only be gotten at through the former. If you know why this creature talks, thinks the Martian, you might also know why he behaves so oddly.
Start with God and man’s immortal soul and you’ve lost every reader except those who believe in God and man’s immortal soul.