Language as a Mind

Language is, like, a giant mind, man. Also, my hands are huuuuge. And finally, no, I have not been smoking Lucifer's Lettuce.

“What the fuck,” you might be asking yourself, “is Brandon talking about? His hands are not that big. Also, language is not a mind.”

You are wrong on one account. It's not the one about my hands.

What is a mind? Well, it exists primarily in brains. But my brain is not my mind. There's a difference. I define my mind as the exchange of information within my brain. When the neurons in my toe say “oh, fuck, you stubbed us! Don't do that again!” the message gets carried up my leg to my spine, and up my spine to my brain. Then, my brain fires that information off into all sorts of different processors. I'm suddenly struck by the image of a stubbed toe, words like “ouch” and “oh shit” and “who put that rock there, anyway?”

The brain cells themselves are not my mind. The electricity and chemicals which allow them to communicate with each other are not my mind. My mind is the whole process between the neural signal which reaches my brain and the neural signal which leaves my brain, heads for my mouth, and causes me to spew obscenities at inanimate objects. It is internal communication.

You might be seeing where I'm getting the metaphor of language as a mind now. Or, maybe you're not. In either case, keep reading to lurn more.

Think of each person as a neuron. Forget that we have minds. Just imagine that we're all blobs of biomatter, and that we take in information and spit it out. Hell, you don't even have to imagine; it's true. As a neuron receives a signal, in the form of a chemical poppin' into its receptors, so we receive sensory information. As a neuron processes the chemical signal and fires off a wee bit of electricity to its own store of chemicals, so we think about what we see, hear, feel, and such, and prepare to vocalize it. And as a neuron releases chemicals into our synapses to pass along the message, so we run our mouths off about pointless stuff like stubbing our toes.

Language is the symbolism behind the collective vocalizations and hearingizations (I want a nickel every time someone uses that word) of a bunch of sacks of water and carbon and stuff. A mind is the symbolism behind the release and reception of chemicals.

Just think of those wee little molecules of dopamine and adenosine and epinephrine and melatonin as words, and the metaphor is complete. Just like I know what “Oh shit, I stubbed my toe” means, my neurons know what a lot of glutamate coming from other neurons which lead to and from my toe mean. And the meanings are about the same.

So what's the conclusion of all this rambling? Let's summarize:

My mind consists of the process of communication between my neurons. My neurons communicate with little bits of matter and energy. The neurons are not my mind, nor is the matter and energy. My mind is the action of sending and receiving these signals, and the symbolism behind them.

Language consists of symbols in the form of chemicals on paper, lights on a screen, or vibrations from our vocal cords. Language is not the people talking, nor is it the people listening. It is not the individual words – for if the only word in the English language was “hypothesis”, it wouldn't be a language at all – it is the collective symbolism behind the bits of communication. It requires matter (people) and energy (vibrations, the movement of ink onto paper, etc.), but it is not these things.

Okay, that summary was longer and less conclusive than I had hoped. Let's summarize the summary:

A mind is the meaning behind bits of communication exchanged by little chunks of biology.

Language is the meaning behind bits of communication exchanged by big chunks of biology.

Get it?