Thursday, February 22, 2007

Another Approach to Infant Vocalizations

Deleuze says that differences in the system of language should not be thought of essential oppositions, which introduces the point of view of a representational consciousness, but should rather be seen as the entry points to a "transcendent exploration of the Idea of the linguistic unconscious" (Difference and Repetition, p. 204). He cites approvingly the work of linguist Gustave Guillaume, whose Foundations for a Science of Language I've just requested from the library. A somewhat different take on Guillaume comes from Marc André Bélanger's Chaos, Complexity and Gustave Guillaume. I'll withhold judgement on what Guillaume is really all about, but since the paper has come to my attention, I want to look at what Bélanger has to say about the infant's exposure to language, which stands in contrast to the way Cavarero has portrayed vocalizations between mother and child in early infancy.


When a child learns his mother tongue, he does so by trying to reconstruct the system behind the utterance he hears...[T]he order of the system comes not only from the "aggregated behaviour" of humans as speakers but also from the mind of the infant (Latin: "unable to speak") learning his tongue. The child will make all the intuitive generalizations he can based on the evidence, and will form, reconstruct, the best system he can. As he grows up, he figures out through a process which entails both induction and deduction (and, as Pierce would say, abduction) the different categories of words and what each can and cannot do.


("Chaos," p. 7, emphasis Bélanger's)


In many respects Cavarero presents the more realistic account of infant vocalizations. The first facts of language that are learned by the infant are its rhythms, its musicality, its embodiment and its relationality (For More than One Voice, p. 180 and passim). However, I wonder whether she doesn't go too far in her banishment of the subject (see this passage for example). If Bélanger's infant subject seems a little too advanced to be credible, the alternative of no conscious subject of language learning also appears to be, well, a little too larval. Most infants eventually do learn to speak, and it's difficult to imagine this happening without any glimmers of consciousnesss whatsoever.


Deleuze has much to say about learning, but I wonder about the strategy of placing everything and the kitchen sink in the realm of the unconscious. When all is said and done, what does consciousness mean to Deleuze?

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posted by Fido the Yak at 3:56 PM. 0 comments

Friday, December 01, 2006

Together

Nancy writes:


The very meaning of the word "together," just like the meaning of the word "with," seems to oscillate indefinitely between two meanings, without ever coming to a point of equilibrium: it is either the "together" of juxtaposition partes extra partes, isolated and unrelated parts, or the "together" of gathering totum intra totum, a unified totality where the relation surpasses itself in being pure. But it is clear from this that the resources found in the term are situated precisely on the point of equilibrium between the two meanings: "together" is neither extra nor intra. In fact, the pure outside, like the pure inside, renders all sorts of togetherness impossible. They both suppose a unique and isolated pure substance, but pure in such a way that one cannot even say "isolated," exactly because one would be deprived of relation with it.


(Being Singular Plural, pp. 59-60)


Here's a question then for anybody who's read Victor Turner's "Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites of Passage": How do you reckon with the philosopher's play with liminalities in ordinary language? I see two possibilities (not mutually exclusive): (1) philosophy is a kind of ritual, or (2) what's true of symbols in rites of passage is true of symbols in general. Just curious.

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posted by Fido the Yak at 9:24 AM. 0 comments

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Strange Attractor

I checked out Isabelle Stengers' Power and Invention. I'm not sure exaclty why it appeals to me. Maybe it has something to do with the phenomenon of the strange attractor, the attractor that lacks the quality of stability, but instead the system "wanders between possibilities" (Isabelle Stengers, "Complexity: A Fad?" in Invention and Power, p. 7).


I often catch myself falling back on old habits of thought. Is this an attempt to maintain equilibrium? Can it be that simple? Say thinking does tend towards equilibrium. Why then doesn't thinking just stop? Is existence so disturbing to thought that it simply cannot rest?


How long does it take for the system called thinking to evolve, to reach its attractor?


Is a habit of thinking like repeating a single thought ad infinitum, or is it ever more productive than that? Can't we make habits of ways of disturbing our own equilibria? Can we say that's true and still say that thinking tends towards equilibrium? Whose equilibrium? Is there any reason to believe that thinking tends towards the equilibrium (or disequilibrium) of a thinking ego? Who owns the system called thinking?

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posted by Fido the Yak at 2:17 PM. 0 comments