Language Genetics: Knots and Finches
October 3, 2007 by Kristina Chew, PhD
Filed under Health
Is language (like tying knots) unique to humans—is being able to talk and think in language part of being human?
I might have answered this question with an “of course” in what seems like another life now, a life I lived before I became the mother of a boy with minimal language.
My husband Jim and I are both very verbal—big (and rather fast) talkers and early, self-taught readers. Charlie, now 10 and some months, has more to say with each day. I refer frequently to music here as it seems more and more to be a “language”—a mode—-that channels communication among the three of us. Learning to read has been a process of many years for Charlie (in the past year and a half, he has slowly memorized not quite 30 nouns on flashcards), whereas he has been able to learn to read music in a few months. Just hearing language seems also to encourage Charlie to speak: In the past few weeks, he has been saying “turn on” when we’re in the car, a CD is on, and Jim and I are (what else would we be doing?) talking, and we’ve slowly realized that Charlie means “turn up the sound and be quiet so I can here the music, it is on, you know!”.
A September 25th Seed Magazine article about the genetics of language in humans suggests that we ought to look to songbirds to understand the evolution of language, as much and even more than to primates. “We are just thinking apes, with a finch’s ability to sing,” writes the author, Juan Uriagereka.
Language may indeed be unique to humans, but the processes that underlie it are not.
What we are beginning to see is that a set of disparate cognitive traits lends credence to the fact that language is genetic, and arose suddenly. Knot-tying, dancing, and typing, for instance, are all part of the unique equation that gave rise to language. But the genetic underpinnings of speech, and the machinations of its evolution, are best found in its analogues in the nonspeaking animal kingdom. Our closest relative, the chimp, would be the most natural species to look to first, but it can teach us only part of what we need to know. There seems to be a better set of species that can tell us the complete story of human language’s evolution: songbirds.
Uriagereka describes the workings of the FOXP2 gene, the so-called “language gene.” Interestingly, FOXP2 regulates processes in the brain and in the gut:
We now know, however, that FOXP2 is just one of several regulating factors—genes that turn other genes on and off—and that it is involved in many processes that have nothing obvious to do with language, such as the formation of the gut. Even as it relates to the brain, FOXP2 appears to help regulate many activities that may or may not be strictly linguistic, such as the ordered muscle commands you need to be able to tap your fingers. Most damning for its role as the language gene, variants of FOXP2 have been discovered in just about every other organism all the way down to yeast. In fact, the protein it regulates is remarkably unchanged when compared across all species, and yet no other animal has co-evolved language.
Uriagereka looks at the FOXP2 gene in finches. Young male finches imitate others’ songs in wooing females. Further,
they are creative, and compose parts for their own songs. Again, this is not speech in any sense of the term, and to the best of our knowledge these songs have no patterns of meaning. This behavior does however share some abstract properties with language. Their songs reflect a type of grammar with so-called trills and flourishes.
And, the FOXP2 in the finch differs from that of a human “in only eight out of 200,000 positions”: It is only, Uriageraka writes, because finches lack an outer cortex in their brains, that they do not exhibit language. Referring again to chimps, he writes:
Language is fundamentally genetic and its essential structures can be found in other species, like songbirds. What then of our nearest relatives with relatively large cortices, such as chimps? Why can’t they also help us to understand language this way? Chimps, and our other close relatives the apes, certainly have the hardware for some basic forms of meaning, but all indications are that Neanderthals also had meaningful thoughts, enough to bury their dead or control fire, without much of a language. What they don’t have is a way to externalize their thoughts. I’d wager that chimps just lack the parser that FOXP2 regulates. Somehow humans, by contrast, were able to recruit an ancient gene with a relatively ancient function to help us squeeze our thoughts out into the airwaves, much as a finch does with his
A parser is the “integrated processes that allow you to reconstruct complex sentences as you hear or see them, to produce them, or to acquire the fundamental parameters of your language as you first experience language as a baby.” Chimps, Uriageraka suggests, can indeed think “meaningful thoughts” but they lack what finches have, a way to “externalize” those thoughts.
What does all this have to do with Charlie? Uriageraka’s article leads me to reflect how Charlie seems so much to understand and, indeed, to think “meaningful thoughts”; what he does not have, or struggles so to try to have, is some way to “externalize” them. As much as Charlie can sing and warble, he can get some of his thoughts across, but there is more to human language than music. There are words, and syntax, and so much more. Charlie has not yet learned to use “you” to refer to someone else, nor the concepts and the use of verb tenses, nor the use of the definite article. But learning about those finches and their ability to compose new and varied songs, and that the FOXP2 gene is also tied to certain cognitive abilities—such as tying and untying knots—that are unique to humans, suggests to me that language arises and evolves out of a complex coming-together of cognitive and even physiological skills and abilities; that language is not all just talk, though that is how most human beings communicate. Maybe words are unique to humans, but there are ways to get your message across that are not only louder than words, but that suggest that words don’t say it all—–that they are just one means of self-expression.
Photo courtesy of Pulpolux via Flickr.
Very interesting, thank you.
My son is non verbal, and dosnt sign, but he can communicate.
I used to long to hear his voice, but now, that is no longer important, as he gets most of his needs across with out words.
As you know my son has limited verbal abilities. He has, with ABA, been able to learn some langugae, including reading.
There are means of communication other than verbal language but language remains the most complex and efficient means of communication for human beings and it is what sets us apart from other animal species. It is what allows science, culture, relgion, philosophy, and literature, even classic literature.
Are there other means of communciation? Yes. But if all a person has is the limited communication abilities of my son, and apparently yours. then they suffer from a very serious deficit. That is reality.
So we have to look to other means by which a child communicates, then—what’s the tone of the music? the pitch? the set of the features on his face? When one spend so many hours with a child, however few words they have, one learns how to “listen”…… returns one’s ear.
I’m currently reading “The Stuff of Thought” by Steven Pinker, in which he addresses many of these questions. I’ve not finished the book yet, but a general idea that comes across early is that the ability to “think” is not a result of language, but rather language is the expression of our ability to think the way we do. (Obviously, that is a very brief paraphrasing.)
He doesn’t address autism directly, but has given me a lot to think about (much like the Seed article you mention did for you).
Human language, in my experience, can be a very limiting force in certain ways, as well as a significant opening for communication. So other mediums are effective in describing things that language can’t. Music, in my experience, tends to convey emotion rather than events, which tends to be the strong suit of language. I do disagree with, though, ”
Now, in regards to “setting us apart” and “allowing science, culture, religion, philosophy”, I’d say no. Now literature is different, as it is inherent and part and parcel of the language it is in. But science, which can be boiled down to inductive reasoning, is not limited in itself by language, though language provides the tools on which to build on the progress of others. Culture is so vague, and I don’t think a culture, or habits and expectations and shared understandings, are limited to people (a pack of wolves, for example, have a rather defined culture). Religion being a general term for substantiating various beliefs as well, usually regarding existence, isn’t necessitated by contact with others; you can well create a personal code of beliefs without ever having to consult a shared resource. And philosophical existence and knowledge isn’t substantiated by others either; you can make an observation about the world and use implication to build off of that without philosophy. In fact, I’ve found there are many things I can think in philosophical terms that either can’t be translated or have a very rough one, so language may be a limit rather than a help to philosophy.
Also, it’s interesting that he says there is grammar but no meaning. But if grammar is used to distinguish in language, how does that constitute no meaning whatsoever? It seems slightly an odd statement. It seems that there is meaning on the basis that it does communicate a general principle that influences other minds by terms of association.
Cliff
The notion that language is necessary for thought seemed very confusing to me the first time I heard it. I couldn’t figure out how it is that you think with language.
I hope this isn’t too off base to the discussion, but a couple of years back I was reading one of Oliver Sacks’ books on the deaf community and he reprinted part of a very old narrative from someone who was profoundly deaf at the time that the first sign language was developed and was one of the first students. From this first- hand writing it was clear that the author was a very intelligent person but he described great difficulties remembering or considering events in his life above a functional level without a communicative symbology and structure so that he could “think” about things when not in their visual presence. Learning sign language apparently gave him the handle he needed. Perhaps that was only one anecdotal case or not relevant to this thread. It was just very interesting and has stuck in my head considering what that might have been like.
Dr. Temple Grandin discusses the research done with birds, songbirds and other animals that “have language” in her book Animals in Translation. It’s very good.
Regan, that’s interesting. In my case, it hasn’t really been true; I could completely discard language and remember my entire life without an issue.
But there’s a point I need cleared up; he could write, but then couldn’t organize events until sign language unless in their presence? Didn’t he have communicative symbology in writing?
Cliff
Communication isn’t nesecarilly confined in the use of language and, vice versa, the use of language doesn’t nesecarilly establish communication. My son started talking before he was one year old and since then his language has improved a lot. BUT, we don’t realy “communicate” through words. Sure, he uses words to address his needs, water, toilet, hug etc but not his feelings. His language has grammar, so I guess he pays attention and understands what we say, and he also has a rich vocabulary, so I guess he is actually interested in learning. When it comes to feelings though, other means of communiaction are employed in order for him to express them. He smiles or he frowns, he opens his eyes wide, he makes scared faces, he laughs, he hugs, he kisses and sometimes, I can tell how he feels just by looking at his eyes. Although very important, the use of language isn’t the cornerstone of communication for me. I believe that he “thinks” more than he “talks” and it’s really heartbreaking to see him overwhelmed by frustration when he cannot find the right words. It fells like he is asking for a kind of help that I cannot give him.
I am always frustrated when I can’t find words for, and have come to the conclusion that there are things that I can’t say or write. Obviously, I will not be writing them here.
As time progresses, that gets easier, along with the fact you just kind of learn how to deal with not having a word for something without being really frustrated about it. As the sticky points become more localized, you kind of learn to expect it and eventually just shrug your shoulders.
And I find too, as an autistic, language falls very flat. I don’t think this is unique to autistics, otherwise I wouldn’t have to bear those really awkward “It’s like when…” moments. And if you say “I’m angry”, people give you a funny look and don’t take you seriously, and you have to venture out into sour-lettered words, and that’s taboo. So I don’t find language to generally be the most helpful in emotional terms.
Cliff
In general understanding intricate spoken language might be limited to humans, but not in the field.
Bonobos (or was it chimps) are reported to have been taught English, but they were Heavily accented.
The famous Parrot that died recently was claimed to express frustration with repetitive trials.
Sorry I do not have immediate references.
When the Crows migrate (even from the back to the front of the place I work) and signal their positions to others, just because we can’t hear the intricacies of the trill and undertsand what they mean by it, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t talking to each other.