In the
last post, I mentioned Guy Deutscher’s Through
the Language Glass, which suggested that elements of language has a direct
affect on the way we think about the world; not in the strict, untranslatable
conceptually schemes of Whorf-Napir hypothesis style linguistic relativism, but
in what he called the Boas-Jakobson principle: worldviews are formed by the way
our native language forces us to think by its construction, so if you do not
have gendered language, for example, it is easier to be ambiguous about genders
when speaking or reading. This post will move on from this idea and look at the
second book I read recently, Bruce E . Wrexler’s Brain and Culture: Neurobiology, Ideology, and Social Change (MIT
Press, 2008), then I’ll try to tie the two ideas together.
So how
does it work.
Well,
firstly, as children, our neuronal structures appear to be plastic – not in the
sense that they are made from oil and you can wrap a sandwich in them but in
the sense that they can be molded and remolded. In the adult brain, the
plasticity continues but slows down; this is why at Latin class I still bang my
head on the table over simple words like mox,
while my younger cohorts take to it like a plastic duck to bath water.
The
important point is that this molding is caused in no small part by the outside
world when we are younger, and two areas are particularly important:
‘imitation’, and ‘internalization and identification’. Imitation is just that,
copying others either by imitating actions that produce perceived end goals –
imitation of ends – or by imitating actions that produce and evaluation of an
object or person –imitation of values.
The best
way I can think to explain this is with a common or garden adolescent. Lets
call her ‘Julie’ and her friend ‘Helen’ to protect the innocent.
Julie
comes home one day and says, “Dad, I want to be a vegetarian?”
Dad
looks at her with a mixture of confusion and respect, and replies, “okay, why?”
“because
Helen became a vegetarian” says Julie “and she’s dropped two dress sizes
[imitation of ends].”
“I
see,” answers Dad, “is that really the best reason to become a vegetarian?”
“Well,
I don’t want to be fat cus Helen says that fat people are disgusting [imitation
of values]”.
“If
Helen told you to jump of a cliff, would you do it?” asks dad.
(and
the conversation, in which Dad tells Julie her ambition is laudable but she
really ought to think harder about it continues…)
The
other way the brain is shaped is through ‘Internalization and Identification’.
This is when the child, through imitation, acquires aspects such as feelings,
attitudes, beliefs, worldviews, and so on, from those around them. This is the
structuring of a child’s cosmology and, through the action of what you might
call cultural evolution, or memetics, or whatever, it evolves and alters slight
from one generation to the next. What is particularly striking to Wrexler is
how divergent types of psychology have all hit upon something similar ideas. I
find this striking, too. From Freud’s ‘assimilation of one ego to another one’,
behaviorist’s observations of the greater susceptibility of children to forms
of conditioning, accelerated schemata (patterns of thought and behavior)
development in cognitive psychology, the anthropology of learning through play
and even observations of the workings of memes from people such as Susan
Blackmore have led down similar paths. Indeed, that the adult seems to be
created by the child is nothing new: recall the supposedly 17th
century Jesuit quote: "Give me the child
for seven years, and I will give you the man." Wrexler has
simply added an observed neurological framework to this.
The
second half of Wrexler’s book discusses the troubles this causes as these now
less-plastic brains interact in the real world, not often for the best. This
part of the book is very interesting, but it is not this that I am concerned
with here.
Wrexler
points out that ‘language itself is only realized through imitation’ [p.117].
Areas of the brain are linked to understanding and speech, such as Broca’s
area and Wernicke’s area, but if these areas are damaged in children, the power
of neuroplasticity simply construct language in another area. This is almost
impossible in adults. Similar things happen with the young who become blind:
the occipital lobe, now redundant, often appears to begin processing and
enhancing other senses. It is absolutely untrue that we only use a part of our
brains capacity; we use every wonderful bit of it in stunningly inventive ways.
But I
digress.
Bringing
these two books together, we have a scenario in which language is developed
alongside our propsitional attitudes (beliefs, desires, doubts – in short the
building blocks of a worldview) and is, in fact the best way in which
propositional attitudes can be articulated one to another. If our language does
not have an expression for blue, it is difficult for us to develop the belief
in a concept of blue, just as we English speakers cannot conceive of light and
dark blue as separate entities as the Russians can, or as apples as male and
oranges as female as Germans and others can. Language is the tool by which our
parents shaped our plastic neurons, and while we can understand other
linguistic schemes, our own primary language will remain embedded in our
sociocultural cores.
And now,
some emotions.
This is a
‘what if’. What if emotions are similar. What if the neurochemicals within our
bodies are innate, that there are universal and that certain sensations are
felt by everybody, just as every healthy eye will see light with a wavelength
of 462nm and a frequency of 645Thz (blue). These neurochemicals, just like the
colours, are evolved responses, helping us to mate, remain in groups, avoid
danger etc. These feelings, that I’ll call affect, are universal and felt by
all. But, we can only understand them according the labels our cultures provide
us with during adolescence. If a culture wants to call the neurochemical
release that creates a need to run away by its own discrete term,
say, flight, and another emotion for
the need to defend yourself caused by similar sensations, say, fight, while another culture ties these
similar chemical releases to both fleeing and preparedness for fighting, like
the English fear, then they are
different because the understandings are different. The English would have the
emotional equivalent of grue, while
our hypothetical would have green and
blue. This doesn’t mean that grue,
green, or blue don’t exist, nor does it mean that they are universal. They are
understood by the cultures in the only they way they can; through the neural
pathways created by developmental language.
This is
a way to end the nature/nurture, psychology/culture dichotomy facing emotion
research and in fact suggests an anthropological approach to studying emotions
in history; using comparative and ethnographic techniques to see if, say, 15th
century love and modern love, occupy the same place in the emotional spectrum
and if not, what that can tell us about people and emotions, then and now.
Well, I
enjoyed that. I’ll try to remain regular but for now, I’ll just tease you with
the title of my next post: Problematising
Probemlatisation.

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