writing are different, because we don't have tone to help us. So maybe tone comes from an additional number. Maybe a zero in front a number becomes something bad. So 022 becomes a tsunami or a flood, 078 becomes a civil war, 0378 becomes a dysfunctional family."
"And what if one of us has never seen a swan?" Tina asked.
"Then either she will go along with the others or have a better idea. In fact, it won't really matter for the purposes of this experiment. What you choose for such nouns is simply happenstance and won't tell us anything useful. It's only when you get on to complex grammar that you start unlocking critical areas of the brain for us."
"Oh? Can you give me an example?"
"Sure." Wilkie paused to think, then said, "Try this sentence: 'If she had only shown a bit more consideration, I might have been able to think differently about the situation, if you know what I mean.'"
He allowed the words to sink in for a few moments before adding, "Most of our use of language is not about simple facts like, 'John kicks the ball.' We expend enormous mental energy expressing our feelings, desires, plans, likes and dislikes. And we often deliberately find complicated ways to do so, so as not to make a point too directly."
Séamus interjected, "I remember one of my mother's favorite expressions, 'Séamus, you wouldn't like to make a cup of tea for me, would you?'"
"Excellent example," the Professor replied. "The expression is very strange if we take it literally. But it is a way of acknowledging he would be making an effort on her behalf, which is being appreciated." He paused. "A complex thought, and just over a cup of tea."
Séamus found Tina's eyes gazing at him. Not staring, he told himself; gazing. But it was equally unnerving.
"So," she said slowly, "We mainly use language to influence people, to change their perceptions of things. Maybe we have access to the same facts, if we choose to find them out. But we spend most of our time talking to say, 'These are the more important facts, at least for me, and perhaps they should be for you, too.'"
"Well put," Wilkie replied. "Other animals are social by instinct, but not us. Beyond our immediate family, our allegiances depend upon shared interests, and those must be expressed in words. Maybe we express the same God, or the same nation, or the same ethnic ancestry, or the same education."
Alice asked if Tina was Buddhist. When Tina confirmed the fact, she said, "There's a sentence in the Christian Bible, 'For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.' Now, who can fully comprehend what that really means? How can God love the world when we see so much evil? How can God have a Son? How can he give his Son? What does it mean to believe in this particular God – compared with, say, your God? What could eternal life be like and, if it exists, what does perishing mean? Yet sentences like this one inspire and drive the behavior of many Westerners during their entire lives."
Tina grinned. "And back home we all think you are just money-driven materialists." They all laughed. "I get it. We use words to pull strings inside people. We're all manipulated every day. Perhaps the educated even more so, because of all the stuff we read, which can be even more carefully crafted to play us. And it often isn't what is actually said. It's what's implied, or suggested, or hinted. We get deliberately drawn into ideas which we then assume are our own."
The mention of strings being pulled, so soon after Chrissy had mentioned it, made Séamus uncomfortable again. It was Sheryl's frequent remark about his boss. But was she just the latest of the Séamus-FitzGerald string-pullers? What about his father, then his mother? Was Sheryl's frustration that she had found such a malleable young man and yet had not found the way to bend him to her own
"And what if one of us has never seen a swan?" Tina asked.
"Then either she will go along with the others or have a better idea. In fact, it won't really matter for the purposes of this experiment. What you choose for such nouns is simply happenstance and won't tell us anything useful. It's only when you get on to complex grammar that you start unlocking critical areas of the brain for us."
"Oh? Can you give me an example?"
"Sure." Wilkie paused to think, then said, "Try this sentence: 'If she had only shown a bit more consideration, I might have been able to think differently about the situation, if you know what I mean.'"
He allowed the words to sink in for a few moments before adding, "Most of our use of language is not about simple facts like, 'John kicks the ball.' We expend enormous mental energy expressing our feelings, desires, plans, likes and dislikes. And we often deliberately find complicated ways to do so, so as not to make a point too directly."
Séamus interjected, "I remember one of my mother's favorite expressions, 'Séamus, you wouldn't like to make a cup of tea for me, would you?'"
"Excellent example," the Professor replied. "The expression is very strange if we take it literally. But it is a way of acknowledging he would be making an effort on her behalf, which is being appreciated." He paused. "A complex thought, and just over a cup of tea."
Séamus found Tina's eyes gazing at him. Not staring, he told himself; gazing. But it was equally unnerving.
"So," she said slowly, "We mainly use language to influence people, to change their perceptions of things. Maybe we have access to the same facts, if we choose to find them out. But we spend most of our time talking to say, 'These are the more important facts, at least for me, and perhaps they should be for you, too.'"
"Well put," Wilkie replied. "Other animals are social by instinct, but not us. Beyond our immediate family, our allegiances depend upon shared interests, and those must be expressed in words. Maybe we express the same God, or the same nation, or the same ethnic ancestry, or the same education."
Alice asked if Tina was Buddhist. When Tina confirmed the fact, she said, "There's a sentence in the Christian Bible, 'For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.' Now, who can fully comprehend what that really means? How can God love the world when we see so much evil? How can God have a Son? How can he give his Son? What does it mean to believe in this particular God – compared with, say, your God? What could eternal life be like and, if it exists, what does perishing mean? Yet sentences like this one inspire and drive the behavior of many Westerners during their entire lives."
Tina grinned. "And back home we all think you are just money-driven materialists." They all laughed. "I get it. We use words to pull strings inside people. We're all manipulated every day. Perhaps the educated even more so, because of all the stuff we read, which can be even more carefully crafted to play us. And it often isn't what is actually said. It's what's implied, or suggested, or hinted. We get deliberately drawn into ideas which we then assume are our own."
The mention of strings being pulled, so soon after Chrissy had mentioned it, made Séamus uncomfortable again. It was Sheryl's frequent remark about his boss. But was she just the latest of the Séamus-FitzGerald string-pullers? What about his father, then his mother? Was Sheryl's frustration that she had found such a malleable young man and yet had not found the way to bend him to her own
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