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Nov 022011
 

Next week, noted linguist and cognitive scientist Ray Jackendoff will be visiting Indiana University as a Patten lecturer. I’m really looking forward to hearing his talks. Here’s the schedule:

  • The first Patten lecture is The Cognitive Structure of Baseball, on Tuesday, November 8, 7:30–9:00 p.m. in Rawles Hall Rm. 100, IU Bloomington.
  • He is also giving a guest lecture at the Jacobs School of Music, which as far as I can tell is open to the public: Parallels and Non-Parallels between Language and Music, Wednesday, November 9, 4:00 p.m., Ford-Crawford Hall, IU Bloomington. Ford-Crawford Hall is on the second floor of the Simon Music Center, 200 S. Jordan Ave. (the building with the fountain in front).
  • The second Patten lecture is Language, Meaning, and Rational Thought, on Thursday, November 10, 7:30–9:00 p.m. in Rawles Hall Rm. 100, IU Bloomington.

You can learn more about Jackendoff’s work in his books, which include the following:

His second Patten lecture will cover some of the material in his new book, A User’s Guide to Thought and Meaning, which is not out yet but is available for pre-order.

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Aug 012010
 

One night in the summer of 1987, I was awake late at night at a mountaintop solar observatory. The town of Sunspot, New Mexico, had maybe somewhere between seventy-five and a hundred inhabitants, all of them asleep as far as I could tell, but I was restless that night, emotionally unsettled by my grandmother’s recent death. Sunspot boasted a small informal lending library, in the form of a single room full of books in one of the houses. It was a small collection but the terms of service were fantastic: You walked over any time you wanted to and borrowed what you liked. Bibliotropism drew me there that night, and I stumbled across a book by Loren Eiseley called The Firmament of Time, which is a beautifully written meditation on the human race’s progress in understanding the place it occupies in the universe. As I read, Eiseley seemed to be speaking directly to me, offering an inspiring view of human life and the meaning to be found in the scientific endeavor. My mind was dazzled and calmed by his words, and eventually I relaxed enough to be able to sleep that night.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget how really amazing communication is: that facts, ideas, opinions, and emotions can be conveyed from one human brain to another. (On my pessimistic days, I wonder how well any brain communicates anything to another brain beyond things like, “Ham and cheese, easy on the mayo.”) Eiseley had been dead for 17 years when I read that book, but that didn’t matter. I could still incorporate the products of his mental activities into my own brain. How cool is that?

A recent study has examined how the spoken word affects the brains of listeners using a recorded story. The speaker’s brain patterns were recorded by functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) as she told the story, and then the brain patterns of listeners were examined as they heard the story played back to them. Various control conditions were also examined (listening to a story in a language the listener didn’t understand, or listening to a different story told by the same speaker). When the listeners understood the story, patterns of activity over wide areas of their brains were similar to those of the original story-teller; this didn’t happen in the control conditions. A closer match in neural activity was linked to a better understanding of the story. This guest blog post at Scientific American has more details.

The comments bring out a couple of interesting points. For example, while it’s tempting to think of the speaker as controlling the listener’s brain, the interaction between listener and story-teller was probably at least as much about collaboration as it was about control. In some instances where the listener was really on top of the story, activity in the listener’s prefrontal cortex preceded similar activity in the speaker’s brain, indicating anticipation of what was going to come next. The listener was actively participating in entering the story. (And on a related note, we’ve all experienced the limits of language in trying to convey ideas or information to an unreceptive brain.) When I read the article, my first thought was to wonder whether the same thing holds for writing; this question, and a similar question about music, also came up in the comments. (Answer: We don’t know yet, but the method used in this study should be applicable to those questions as well.)

Anyway, the whole thing gives you something interesting to think about the next time you talk to someone. And I have to wonder what’s happening in your brain right now as you read these words, and how much it might resemble what’s going on in mine as I write them.

The paper is available for free online (for now, anyway):
Speaker–listener neural coupling underlies successful communication,
Greg J. Stephens, Lauren J. Silbert, and Uri Hasson. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, published online before print, July 26, 2010, doi: 10.1073/pnas.1008662107

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Jun 212010
 

Steven Pinker, in a recent paper in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, proposes an explanation of how human intelligence evolved. He begins by noting that Charles Darwin had no problem believing that intelligence could be explained by evolutionary theory. However, Alfred Russel Wallace, who arrived at the idea of natural selection around the same time as Darwin, thought that because abstract reasoning would have been of no use to prehistoric humans, intelligence must have been the work of a superior being rather than solely the result of natural processes. Scientists have sided with Darwin, but Wallace’s point about the dubious adaptive value of higher cognitive functions to earlier humans is worth examining. Pinker offers an explanation of how we gained our unique profile of cognitive capabilities.

The explanation rests on two things: the idea that we evolved to fit a cognitive niche, and our capacity for metaphorical abstraction. The concept of a cognitive niche originated with John Tooby and Irven DeVore; the basic idea is that we brought to the evolutionary arms race the rudiments of several characteristics that allowed us to exploit other organisms by reasoning and information-sharing rather than by sheerly physical or chemical means (running faster, producing toxins as plants do, etc.). Once we began to move into this niche, new possibilities opened up, and a host of peculiarly human traits likely co-evolved. Pinker emphasizes three traits: the smarts needed to develop and use tools, the capacity for cooperation with those to whom we are not related, and the capacity for the uniquely human combinatorial system of grammatical language.

He discusses briefly how various quirks of the human organism (for example, our relatively long childhoods and long lives, our cultural differences) could have arisen as a result of the development of these capabilities, and also some of the factors that might have predisposed us toward moving into the cognitive niche (prehensile hands, the inclusion of meat in the diet, living in groups).

This is interesting for several reasons. For one, it’s intuitively appealing (to me, at least) to think of a multitude of interwoven causes for something as complex as human intelligence rather than a single development on which everything else hinged. Also, this theory might explain very nicely why we seem to share some capabilities with other animals, things that were once thought to be uniquely human (compassion for conspecifics, tool use, etc.), but we are the only ones to have such well-developed versions of them and to have them all in combination. Pinker also mentions that we test and fine-tune our strategies on the fly within our own lifetimes rather than relying on the much slower pace of evolutionary change to develop responses to environmental challenges or changes in the organisms we eat or otherwise exploit:

Because humans develop offenses in real time that other organ-
isms can defend themselves against only in evolutionary time,
humans have a tremendous advantage in evolutionary arms races.

This seems to explain why we are uniquely destructive as well, and it gives us (although we should already know this) an extraordinary responsibility.

I was also struck by the following:

The selection pressures that the theory invokes are straight-
forward and do not depend on some highly specific behavior (e.g.,
using projectile weapons, keeping track of wandering children) or
environment (e.g., a particular change in climate), none of which
were likely to be in place over the millions of years in which modern
humans evolved their large brains and complex tools. Instead it
invokes the intrinsic advantages of know-how, cooperation, and
communication that we recognize uncontroversially in the con-
temporary world.

This seems to sidestep my objections to the way evolutionary psychologists sometimes seek to explain our behavior and the way they assume there was a single environment that definitively shaped everything about us.

You still have to wonder how we developed the ability to understand and use things that our ancestors had no pressing need for (differential equations, the concept of the state). That’s where the idea of metaphorical abstraction comes in. Basically, this means that we are able to take relationships that apply to space and force and then abstract them out to apply to other things. Our language is full of such metaphorical uses; when the Dow goes up, it doesn’t really ascend skyward, for example (although when it falls we do sometimes seem to hear a certain sickening thud). These metaphors reveal that we have pressed various physical concepts into use in novel ways. The power of this is that it allows us to mentally combine and manipulate abstractions. He gives lots of interesting references to the literature on this capability.

The article also offers some insight into how the theory of the cognitive niche could be tested, which I find exciting:

The theory can be tested more rigorously, moreover, using the
family of relatively new techniques that detect “footprints of selection” in the human genome (by, for example, comparing rates of
nonsynonymous and synonymous base pair substitutions or the
amounts of variation in a gene within and across species). The theory predicts that there are many genes that were selected in
the lineage leading to modern humans whose effects are concentrated in intelligence, language, or sociality. Working backward,
it predicts that any genes discovered in modern humans to have
disproportionate effects in intelligence, language, or sociality (that
is, that do not merely affect overall growth or health) will be found to
have been a target of selection. This would differentiate the theory
from those that invoke a single macromutation, or genetic changes
that affected only global properties of the brain like overall size, or
those that attribute all of the complexity and differentiation of
human social, cognitive, or linguistic behavior to cultural evolution.

However, Jerry Coyne, in his blog Why Evolution is True discusses this paper and goes into some very interesting details on why such testing would be difficult.

In short, Pinker’s paper is full of meaty food for thought and discussion, and it also offers a way to look for evidence, problematic though that may be. Fascinating stuff! The entire paper is available online. The full citation is:

Steven Pinker, The cognitive niche: Coevolution of intelligence, sociality, and language. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, May 11, 2010; 107 (Supplement 2): 8993–8999. DOI: 10.1073/pnas.0914630107

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Jun 162009
 

The question of whether the language we use shapes the way we think is an old one that has been answered emphatically in both the positive and the negative down through the years. Over at Edge.org, Lera Boroditsky has written this essay describing some of the research done in her labs that shows interesting links between the language a person is using and the way he or she thinks. I was particularly intrigued by the parts about how the gender of a noun influences the way speakers of a language describe the object named by the noun. People more often come up with typically feminine attributes to describe bridges or keys, for example, if their language assigns a feminine gender to the noun, and are more likely to use typically masculine attributes if the language assigns a masculine gender. Although the essay describes the assignment of gender in the first place as being essentially a quirk (one with far-reaching cognitive consequences), I wonder if, in some cases where no obvious gender assignment exists, some nouns are masculine or feminine as a result of long-lost, very early metaphors.

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Oct 272008
 

We often use temperature metaphors to describe humans and human interactions (out in the cold, warm-hearted, cold fish, warm the cockles of my heart). Two recent studies indicate that such expressions may go beyond verbal comparisons to capture a literal physical response.

The first study used two different experiments to examine the link between feelings of inclusion or isolation and temperature perception. In one, subjects were asked to recall an experience that involved either social rejection or belonging to a group. In the second test, subjects played a computer game in which some of them were more or less left on the sidelines while the others had more opportunities to play. Compared to the other subjects, those who recalled a time of social isolation gave lower estimates for the temperature of the room, and those who were shut out of the game were more interested in hot snacks or beverages than cold ones. (The article appeared in the September issue of Psychological Science: Cold and lonely: Does social exclusion literally feel cold?, by Chen-Bo Zhong and Geoffrey J. Leonardelli. Also, Scientific American has posted an interview with Chen-Bo Zhong that covers this research and other topics.)

The other study looked at the association from the other direction; i.e., instead of seeing how participants felt physically after a positive or negative social stimulus, researchers gave subjects brief contact with something hot or something cold, and then looked at their behavior and emotions. Again it was a two-part study. In the first part, those who held a hot cup of coffee were more likely to rate someone else’s personality as “warm”, based on written information about that person, than those who held an iced coffee. The second study involved simulated product testing. Those who tested a product involving heat therapy, as opposed to ice therapy, were more likely to choose a gift certificate to give to a friend rather than something for themselves. (This article appeared in last week’s Science: Experiencing physical warmth promotes interpersonal warmth, by Lawrence E. Williams and John A. Bargh.)

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Sep 032008
 

It appears that when your mind is hard at work processing language, it may be using areas of the brain that are not usually associated with language. A recent study looked at people’s comprehension of sentences about hockey and sentences about everyday actions, in conjunction with an examination of brain activity while they were listening to the sentences. Hockey players and hockey fans understood the hockey sentences better, compared to those who had never watched a game. OK, no surprise there. The interesting part is that the brains of the players and fans (but not those of the rookies) showed activity in areas that typically are involved in planning physical actions, even though they were just listening to the sentences while lying in an fMRI scanner, and were not planning to do anything. Until now, these parts of the brain hadn’t been linked to language processing, but it looks like the brain makes use of them anyway to strengthen its ability to understand language. (Remember this the next time some non-fan asks you why you’re watching whatever kind of game it is you like to watch.) This article from PhysOrg has more details, and the paper itself is available from PNAS via open access.
(Sian L. Beilock, Ian M. Lyons, Andrew Mattarella-Micke, Howard C. Nusbaum, and Steven L. Small.
Sports experience changes the neural processing of action language.
PNAS published ahead of print September 2, 2008)

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Jul 012008
 

Languages order the basic elements of a sentence in different ways. In English, we’re used to the subject-verb-object order (SVO; in stripped-down form, this would be, for example, “blogger eats chocolate”). Other languages use subject-object-verb (SOV; e.g., “chocolate blogger eats”). Most languages use either SVO or SOV, with a small percentage using VSO; the other possibilities occur in very few languages. (Some languages don’t have a fixed word order but use inflected forms of words rather than word order to convey the role of words in a sentence.) A recent experiment, however, suggests that for nonverbal communication, people prefer SOV no matter what language they speak.

Forty adults (ten speakers each for four different languages) were asked to describe the action that occurred in brief video clips, first with speech and then with gestures. When speaking, people followed the word order of their language (three of the languages used SVO and one used SOV). But when gesturing, they all followed SOV order, no matter what language they spoke. It’s a small study but an intriguing result. The idea that the way a language is structured significantly shapes the way that those who use the language think and even behave has a long and somewhat checkered history. This result indicates that there may be some influence going the other way as well (or instead?), perhaps some fundamental aspect of nonverbal or preverbal thought that then shapes language (although obviously the whole story must be very complicated).

At any rate, it’s something to think about. Meanwhile, this blogger is going to go eat some chocolate.

P.S. I was so eager to get to my chocolate that I forgot to include a link to this press release from EurekAlert, where I learned about this research. –July 2, 2008

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May 262008
 

A TOT (tip-of-the-tongue) state is what happens when you grope around in the dimmer recesses of your brain for awhile trying to come up with a word that you know but have temporarily lost track of. (I don’t know whether it’s more difficult to undergo a TOT state yourself, or to have a conversation disrupted by the laments of someone else who is in the middle of one and has not provided enough context for you to be able to help.) This article from American Scientist goes into some interesting detail about how people resolve TOT states (or not), and what that tells us about the mental machinery that (usually) produces just the words we need, just when we need them.

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