Michael writes:
CHEERSKEP
HA! MADE YOU LOOK! AND RESPOND.
"IN SUM, THE THOUGHT, FEELING, IMAGE ALWAYS PRECEDE THEIR ARTICULATION. HOW
OTHERWISE WOULD THE MIND KNOW WHAT TO ARTICULATE?"
OKAY. HOW DO YOU KNOW WHEN YOUR MIND IS WORKING? AND YOUR MIND IS WORKING
*ALL* THE TIME, MONITORING AND REGULATING YOUR BODY, EXCEPT, YOU HARDLY KNOW
IT. HOW DO YOU KNOW YOUR OWN THOUGHTS? DO YOU JUST PUT PICTURES SIDE BY
SIDE? OR VAGUE SENSATIONS OF COMFORT OR DISCOMFORT, ENJOYMENT OR UNENJOYMENT?
OR
MUST YOU USE LANGUAGE TO KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS?
CAN HUMAN BEINGS HAVE HUMAN THOUGHTS WITHOUT HUMAN LANGUAGE? I DON'T KNOW
THE ANSWER, OR EVEN THE MEANS AND CLINICAL ADEPTNESS TO FIND OUT, BUT I
SUSPECT THE ANSWER IS NO.
Have you seen "The Hurt Locker"? It's not for everyone, and it's not
flawless, but I found it the tensest movie I've ever seen. Bigelow deserved
the
Oscar, say I. Well, talking about "consciousness" and "mind" is the
philosopher's equivalent of being in a bomb squad. Or trying to tip-toe across
a
minefield. Or racing down a slalom course. Choosing the phrasing of anything
in
philosophy of mind can make you lose your mind. With any phrase there's a
good chance you'll hook a gate or put your foot in an explosive place.
When I wrote, " How otherwise would the mind know what to articulate?" I
let my affection for the line overrule a murmured inner warning about the word
'know'. But it sometimes seems that to get anything said in under a
thousand words with exhaustive defusing of verbal bombs is near impossible in
phil
of mind.
One's aim in writing is to effect the rising in the minds of readers the
notions one wants to convey. I thought the line did a serviceable job - but
perhaps a little too cutely. I was too casual because the idea of people
having the words in mind BEFORE the notion they are designed to "express"
seemed
too silly to need much attacking. The image/notion of an apple comes to the
speaker's mind only AFTER the word comes to mind? (It does come after in the
hearer's mind.)
In a speaker, the notion is always first, and it kicks into action the
retrieving of associated words that he will then speak. ("Let's see now, how
should I phrase this?") In a listener the arriving word is first; it prompts
the mind to retrieve the associated notion.
But you do me a disservice, Michael: You did not address a single argument
I made. E.g.: "Writers struggle to find the right words -- how could that be
if their thoughts are in words? How could you ever mis-speak yourself?
Rock-climbers, chefs, chess-players, even tennis-players -- they're thinking
all
the time, just not with words. Writers constantly talk of the frequent
time-consuming struggle to find the images and actions -- and then the words
to
express them -- that will produce the effect they want."
Having said that, I better address more of your questions. A better
word-choice than 'know' there would probably have been "be conscious of". And
when
we speak of "a thought", what we are getting at is a moment of consciousness
that seems different from, say, a "feeling" like pain or hunger, or an
image like what comes to your mind when I say "tiger" to you. Images, feelings
and "thoughts" are not the discrete entities that suggests, but it is the way
we tend to talk.
I use a loose phrase like "getting at" because indeed the mind does not
have three different and discrete forms of consciousness.
You ask: "How do you know when your mind is working?" The only product of a
working mind that we are conscious of isb&what we are conscious of. When I'm
not conscious I assume my mind is working because it says so in books I
read, and it "makes sense", i.e. seems reasonable. (In truth I don't take it
as
a very pertinent question here.)
"How do you know your own thoughts" is effectively tautological. It's
equivalent to, "How is it that you can be conscious of what you're conscious
of?". (This IS a question in Philosophy of mind, but not in the way you mean
it.)
"Do you just put pictures side by side? or vague sensations of comfort or
discomfort, enjoyment or unenjoyment? Or must you use language to know your
thoughts?"
That line suggests to me that you believe all consciousness can be divided
into three kinds: visual images, "feelings", and "language". I'll assume
here that the form "language" takes in consciousness is also sensory: We
"hear"
words in our minds, the way a visual image is something we "see" in our
minds. We may even occasionally "see" a word that way. I've sometimes, when
searching for a word or name I can't remember, had the search concluded by
having the spelled-out word pop onto my mind's visual screen. Other times, the
sensation is in my larynx almost as though the larynx were doing the
remembering.
I claim there is a fourth kind of consciousness; I'll call it non-sensory
"thought". It's what is in my mind when I work to find the words to convey
it. Sometimes it's what's in my mind as I try to remember a word. Just as we
sometimes have a visual image of someone but can't recall his name, I have
non-sensory thoughts before I can retrieve the word. It's why I make much use
of a thesaurus.
I'm not looking for a synonym when I do that. A good thesaurus groups
clusters of words with similar notional impact. I'll run my eye down a cluster
of
similar words and "recognize" the word I was looking for. The harder
challenge for a writer is to articulate a complicated notion for which there
hasn't heretofore been any single "expressing" word. Think of all the coined
words by scientists and philosophers who conjured up novel thoughts. Think of
poets who get the "idea" for their poem or trope sometimes long before they
find the words.
"Can human beings have human thoughts without human language?
I suspect the answer is no."
So rock-climbers, chefs, chess-players, tennis-players, sound engineers,
plumbers, car-drivers are not "thinking"? Or do you believe they put into
words each step of every tactic they employ, and articulate to themselves why
they are using the tactic right here? Even more astonishing, that the word
comes to their mind before the tactic?
I'm beguiled by the dilemma of prehistoric man. He had to have a vocabulary
before he could ever have a "thought" in his head. Luckily, of course, he
never had to think about his dilemma, because he couldn't "think".
And I think of animals. I love dogs (and even cats). If you've ever had a
dog come jogging into the living room with his leash in his mouth because he
wants to go out, you're unlikely to deny that dogs have "thoughts". But
how could they: they don't have vocabularies!
I will not believe anyone who says they never have a "thought" before they
find the words to convey it. "Oh, what is the word we use for what I'm
thinking?!" he cried. "Ah - I know: stalemate."
How could you be so stubborn, Ralph? Oh - sorry! I didn't mean 'Ralph' - I
meant 'Michael'.
