Language

Richard Ostrofsky
(April, 1997)
No one knows, or is ever likely to know for sure, just how the hominids
came to develop language; nor does anyone know whether that revolution is
even now complete. We ourselves may be the “missing link” between the
anthropoid apes and a truly human species that has learned to model its
world and share its thoughts in words. What seems certain is that no other
species on this planet has this ability. With great effort, researchers have
taught chimpanzees and dolphins (the cleverest animals we know) to put a
few words to some crude use. But every human infant begins to babble
irrepressibly around the age of one year, mimicking the vowels and
consonants of the speech she hears around her. Within a year she is using a
considerable vocabulary more or less correctly, building grammatical
sentences never heard by anyone, and inventing new constructions of her
own. Within another few years she is an accomplished speaker of her own
language, already bringing home the local street jargon, talking back to her
parents, and ready for the further mysteries of reading and writing.
As reported by the Cambridge Encyclopedia of Language (a good
paperback copy is temporarily available at Second Thoughts Bookstore
until some lucky customer snaffles it), various theories of language origin
have been proposed: The so-called “bow-wow theory” holds that speech
arose through imitation of animal cries, and other natural sounds. The
“pooh-pooh theory” holds that speech arose as a refinement of our
instinctive grunts and cries. The “ding-dong theory” holds that speech
developed from sounds that somehow reflected or were appropriate for the
occasion. Thus, for example, the word “mama” was supposed to reflect the
smacking lips of an infant at the breast; “bye-bye” was supposed to reflect
an arm waving good-bye; etc. The “yo-heave-ho theory” holds that speech
evolved from rhythmical chanting used to focus a group’s physical effort–as
when hauling a carcass with a primitive rope. The “la-la theory” holds that
speech arose from sound-play and poetry and song.
I like a variant of the “la-la” idea myself, first because it leaves
comfortable room for all the others. (Interesting noises emitted for any
reason whatever can easily be taken up and re-used in play.) Also, it makes
sense of the playful and aesthetic dimensions of language and of human
cognition in general, as none of the others do. Utilitarian theories of
language cannot readily account for the sensuous, almost erotic fascination
that language holds for babbling infants and poets alike. Children do
amazing things with words, and their feeling for the poetics of speech –
quite apart from its practical use or meaning – clearly contributes to their
feats of language acquisition.
Actually, the question of the origins of human speech involves at least
three inter-related but distinct puzzles: How could our versatile speech
apparatus have evolved before the languages that made it really useful?
Why did our faculties of imagination and abstraction develop so far beyond
mere utilitarian necessity, and beyond anything found elsewhere in Nature?
How did our biologically central technology of language (drawing on both
these prior streams of development) actually get started?
A play theory of language origin sheds light on each of these problems.
Briefly, noise-play could have been advantageous for social bonding and
the sharing of complex emotions. Second, the gift for word-play is just one
aspect of the human, primate, and mammalian device of mimicry, fanciful
elaboration, and playfulness in general. These are tools of learning that
became necessary in the progressive replacement of fixed instinct by
malleable, socially transmitted culture. The capacity for play is probably
inherent in culture and full humanity to a much greater extent than our
competitive, utilitarian society is prepared to appreciate. Finally, the habit
of noise-play could easily have merged and blended with other forms of
play: the mimicry of animals and other people, for example.
I can imagine language getting started in a paleolithic version of
charades, around the campfire at night (once fire had been domesticated).
You make characteristic noises and gestures, and I have to guess what
animal you are pretending to be, indicating my guess by dancing and
roaring in unmistakable fashion. Gradually your clues become standardized
and abbreviated, but I still have to guess–with as little information as
possible. After a little while, the tribe has a crude vocabulary of mouth-
noises that everyone can recognize as standing for familiar animals and
people. Verbs and adjectives could have been added to make the game more
difficult; and once that was done, language was on its way. Still missing
though is the idea of stringing words into compound expressions that make
statements, ask questions or give commands. We’ll talk about grammar next
month.