The theme of this paper is a philosophical theory of communication; more specifically, a theory about the understanding of language. It is an old theory, whose classical exponent was John Locke, and in the form that Locke expounded it the theory is now generally rejected by philosophers. But it is far from being a mere museum piece. The view about language that Locke put forward was a plausible one, and it has continued to be put forward in various forms. My main concern here is with a very recent version of the theory, contained in a book published early in 1975; however, it will be helpful to begin with a brief account of Locke's version. This is not only classical, but is also simple and clear, and as such it may serve as a useful stepping-stone towards an understanding of the more modern version.

Professor Parkinson in his lecture on ‘The Translation Theory of Understanding’ (pp. 1–19 above) discusses two stages in the development of a false but influential tradition which he finds common to Locke's Essay Concerning Human Understanding and Professor George Steiner's After Babel. He is not, of course, alleging any direct historical influence of the one on the other; neither is he principally addressing Steiner's book as a whole, but rather the account of understanding upon which it appears to be founded. I should like to take his paper as the starting-point for my own, but begin from a somewhat broader view than he does of the legacy of Locke. With Parkinson's constructive position I have no quarrel, and I shall not address myself directly to it.

When our oldest daughter, Sarah, was four years old the family kitten, Fluffy, contracted fleas. There ensued a primitive ritual of flea extermination that touched off the following discussion:

Sarah: ‘Daddy, how did Fluffy get fleas?’

Me: ‘Oh, I suspect she was playing with a cat that already had fleas. The fleas on that cat jumped off on to Fluffy.’

Sarah (after a moment's reflection): ‘And how did that cat get fleas?’

Me (warming to the regress): ‘Oh, probably from another cat.’

Sarah (impatiently now): ‘But, Daddy, it can't go on and on like that forever. The only thing that goes on and on like that forever is numbers.’

Human communication consists of an intricate combination of verbal and non-verbal signals. We shall see that the verbal aspects of messages are elaborated and supported in a number of ways by non-verbal ones. In order to understand human verbal communication we need to know about these non-verbal components. Non-verbal communication (NVC) can be studied experimentally as a problem in encoding and decoding; it can also be studied as part of a sequence, using the methods of ethology or of linguistics. We shall see that this kind of analysis has theoretical implications about the nature of human communication, and has practical implications in a number of fields.

There has been a tendency, natural perhaps in such ‘verbal’ disciplines as philosophy and linguistics, to assume that language and communication are the same thing. But while no one would deny that language is one powerful medium of human communication, is it the only one? Is there any real distinction between communicating one's desire to leave a dinner party by making verbal remarks like, ‘I must go’ or ‘We could only get Jane as a babysitter’, as opposed to fidgeting, standing up and looking longingly towards the door? As Michael Argyle argues, a great deal of information is conveyed by non-verbal cues. To take the argument a step further, are even verbal statements examples of purely linguistic communication ? Whereas the manifest linguistic content of ‘I must go’ is obvious to anyone who speaks English, the meaning of the remark about the babysitter can only be understood by those who know the particular neighbourhood social context in which it was uttered. Does it make sense, then, to try and analyse the linguistic structure and content of an utterance without taking into account the use to which it is being put in a particular extra-linguistic context?

In this lecture, I want to convey some ideas about linguistic communication which will probably be found not only unfamiliar, but also difficult to grasp at a first encounter. Perhaps I am being too ambitious in so short a compass. At any rate, my only hope of success is to work within closely defined limits, to concentrate more upon expounding these suggestions than upon detailed justification of them, and to say as little as possible about the shortcomings of alternative proposals which are current. The references which I cite have also been rather narrowly selected. As to the limits of this discussion, it will be confined to linguistic communication, as effected by the use of sentences. This is not to deny that there are non-linguistic forms of communication, both between men and between other animals, nor that there are other units of linguistic communication than the sentence; I have taken only what seems most typical of human communication, in order to make the task manageable.

One venerable, and supposedly thoroughly discredited, way of thinking about general names is to conceive of them as names of essences. This is not as transparently foolish a conceit as is nowadays generally supposed. Locke used the term ‘essence’ in two related senses; first, as ‘the being of any thing whereby it is what it is’, and second, as a name for any principle or procedure (for example, matching against an abstract idea) which enables us to rank things under ‘sortal names’ (general names) (Locke, 1690, 3.2.15). In this latter sense, knowing the essence which corresponds to horse or lead, for example is, according to Locke, knowing ‘what are the alterations may or may not be in a horse or lead, without making either of them to be of another species’ (Locke, 1690, 3·3·13).

Western scholars have speculated for centuries about the perceptual capacities of non-western peoples, of children, and of animals; and, more recently, about the representation and communication of perceptual experience in language. Colour is a particularly intriguing domain within which to study the communication of experience because the physical stimulation necessary for the perception of colour, light radiation, can be specified with precision, and creates an aura of rigour and certainty.

One lesson the Open University teaches its academic staff is to be wary of misjudging the level and character of the conceptual development of others. This lesson, coupled with previous encounters I have had with philosophers and psychologists, has taught me with great clarity that I, an electronic engineer-cumphysicist with, I must admit, philosophical leanings, am likely to make errors about your preconceptions, your use of words and the meanings you attach to them, particularly such words as memory, concept, recognition etc. There are many strategies I could adopt to meet this difficulty, but I will tell you only of the one I have chosen. It is simply this.

I would say that syntax is a significant, if shifty, index of a writer's perspective on his subject-matter. In this light, please consider the syntax of my title. It is two nouns connected by a logical term, ‘as’. On one version of the programme for this lecture series, the word ‘as’ is misprinted as ‘and’; this makes a big difference. A simple conjunction of two nouns, ‘Literature and Discourse’, would suggest that I accept the meanings of the two words as stable, unanalysed. The connective ‘as’, however, is intended to announce that this juxtaposition of the two noun terms is an analysis of the two nouns, particularly the first – an examination of the nature of the first term in the light of the meaning of the second.

One of the most significant trends within linguistics in the 1970s has been the move away from the formalised models of language introduced by Chomsky towards an account of language that incorporates functional premises. As Charles Fillmore put it, in a 1972 paper, the emphasis on formalisation needs to be balanced by a consideration of what exactly it is that linguists want to formalise. Putting this another way, a contrast can be drawn between the stress laid in the 1960s on the specification in formal terms of the common factors that underlie utterances (on the similarities – deep or surface – between the sentences of a language, and on the similarities – the formal and substantive universals – between different languages) and the stress laid in the 1970s on the specification in functional terms of the differences between language forms, as captured by such notions as dialect, style, level, etc.

I wish to discuss symbols concerned with the way we feel about the world and the way we conduct our lives in consequence of those feelings. Our conduct is guided by commands and instructions which for some reason we have to obey. We are guided by our knowledge of the world. The symbols I wish to discuss express and excite desires and preferences and that is how they affect our conduct.