[MARC
D. HAUSER:] Some of
the problems that we've
been dealing with in
the neurosciences and
the cognitive sciences
concerns the initial
state of the organism.
What do animals, including
humans, come equipped
with? What are the tools
that they have to deal
with the world as it
is? There's somewhat
of an illusion in the
neurosciences that we
have really begun to
understand how the brain
works. That's put quite
nicely in a recent talk
by Noam Chomsky. The
title of the talk was
"Language and the Brain."
Everybody's
very surprised to
hear him mention the
brain word, since
he's mostly referred
to the mind. The talk
was a warning to the
neuroscientists about
how little we know
about, especially
when it comes to understanding
how the brain actually
does language. Here's
the idea Chomsky played
with, which I think
is quite right. Let's
take a very simple
system that is actually
very good at a kind
of computation: the
honey bee. Here is
this very little insect,
tiny little brain,
simple nervous system,
that is capable of
transmitting information
about where it's been
and what it's eaten
to a colony and that
information is sufficiently
precise that the colony
members can go find
the food. We know
that that kind of
information is encoded
in the signal because
people in Denmark
have created a robotic
honey bee that you
can plop in the middle
of a colony, programmed
to dance in a certain
way, and the hive
members will actually
follow the information
precisely to that
location. Researchers
have been able to
understand the information
processing system
to this level, and
consequently, can
actually transmit
it through the robot
to other members of
the hive. When you
step back and say,
what do we know about
how the brain of a
honeybee represents
that information,
the answer is: we
know nothing. Thus,
our understanding
of the way in which
a bee's brain represents
its dance, its language,
is quite poor. And
this lack of understanding
comes from the study
of a relatively simple
nervous system, especially
when contrasted with
the human nervous
system.
So the point that
Chomsky made, which
I think is a very
powerful one, and
not that well understood,
is that what we actually
know about how the
human brain represents
language is at some
level very trivial.
That's not to say
that neuroscientists
haven't made quite
a lot of impact on,
for example, what
areas of the brain
when damaged will
wipe out language.
For example, we know
that you can find
patients who have
damage to a particular
part of the brain
that results in the
loss of representations
for consonants, while
other patients have
damage that results
in the loss of representations
for vowels.
But we know relatively
little about how the
circuitry of the brain
represents the consonants
and vowels. The chasm
between the neurosciences
today and understanding
representations like
language is very wide.
It's a delusion that
we are going to get
close to that any
time soon. We've gotten
almost nowhere in
how the bee's brain
represents the simplicity
of the dance language.
Although any good
biologist, after several
hours of observation,
can predict accurately
where the bee is going,
we currently have
no understanding of
how the brain actually
performs that computation.
The
reason there have
been some advances
in the computational
domain is there's
been a lot of systems
where the behavior
showcases what the
problem truly is,
ranging from echolocation
in bats to long distance
navigation in birds.
For humans, Chomsky's
insights into the
computational mechanisms
underlying language
really revolutionized
the field, even though
not all would agree
with the approach
he has taken. Nonetheless,
the fact that he pointed
to the universality
of many linguistic
features, and the
poverty of the input
for the child acquiring
language, suggested
that an innate computational
mechanism must be
at play. This insight
revolutionized the
field of linguistics,
and set much of the
cognitive sciences
in motion. That's
a verbal claim, and
as Chomsky himself
would quickly recognize,
we really don't know
how the brain generates
such computation.
One of the interesting
things about evolution
that's been telling
us more and more is
that even though evolution
has no direction,
one of the things
you can see, for example,
within the primates
is that a part of
the brain that actually
stores the information
for a representation,
the frontal lobes
of our brain, has
undergone quite a
massive change over
time. So you have
systems like the apes
who probably don't
have the neural structures
that would allow them
to do the kind of
computations you need
to do language-processing.
In our own work we've
begun to look at the
kinds of computations
that animals are capable
of, as well as the
kind of computations
that human infants
are capable of, to
try to see where the
constraints lie.
Whenever nature has
created systems that
seem to be open-ended
and generative, they've
used some kind of
system with a discrete
set of recombinable
elements. The question
you can begin to ask
in biology is, what
kind of systems are
capable of those kinds
of computational processes.
For example, many
organisms seem to
be capable of quite
simple statistical
computations, such
as conditional probabilities
that focus on local
dependencies: if A,
then B. Lots of animals
seem capable of that.
But when you step
up to the next level
in the computational
hierarchy, one that
requires recursion,
you find great limitations
both among animals
and human infants.
For example, an animal
that can do if A then
B, would have great
difficulty doing if
A to the N, then B
to the N. We now begin
to have a loop. If
animals lack this
capacity, which we
believe is true, then
we have identified
an evolutionary constraint;
humans seem to have
evolved the capacity
for recursion, a computation
that liberated us
in an incredible way.
It allows us to do
mathematics as well
as language. And this
system of taking discrete
or particulate elements
and recombining them,
is what gives genetics
and chemistry their
open ended structure.
Given this pattern,
an interesting question
then is: what were
the selective pressures
that led to the evolution
of a recursive system?
Why is it that humans
seem to be the only
organisms on the planet,
the only natural system,
that has this capacity?
What were the pressures
that created it? Thinking
about things like
artificial intelligence,
what would be the
kinds of pressures
on an artificial system
that would get to
that end point?
An interesting problem
for natural biological
systems as well as
artificial systems
is whether the two
can meet, to try to
figure out what kinds
of pressures lead
to a capacity for
recursion, what are
the building blocks
that must be in place
for the system to
evolve? Comparative
biology doesn't provide
any helpful hints
at present because
we simply have two
end points, humans
that do it, and other
organisms that don't.
At this point in time,
therefore, this evolutionary
transition is opaque.