If we come to look at the evolution of language, we find further puzzles. Why do we have language at all? Surely, in order to communicate. And if not that, then at least to think. But neither of these propositions is true.
The fact that humans can speak is dependent on the evolution, not just of the brain, but of the articulating apparatus – the larynx, the tongue and so on – and of respiratory control. That is why birds can imitate human speech, whereas apes, our nearest relatives, cannot: birds have the necessary equipment, in order to be able to sing. Through some fascinating detective work we can tell from looking at human skeletons when it was that the necessary developments in control of the tongue and larynx, and of the muscles of respiration, developed. That turns out to be from a time long before – from other evidence – we believe we developed language. So what were these developments for?
The answer, according to many anthropologists, appears to have been: in order to sing.
That might sound odd, because we are used to thinking of music as a bit peripheral. But in fact the “music” of speech – in the sense of the intonation and all that is not “just” the content, coupled with other forms of non-verbal communication – constitutes the majority of what it is we communicate, when we do. Denotative language is not necessary for I–thou communication. Music is largely right-hemisphere-dependent, and the aspects of speech that enable us truly to understand the meaning of an utterance at a higher level – including intonation, irony, metaphor, and the meaning of an utterance in context – are still served by the right hemisphere. Denotative language becomes necessary when we have projects: when we need to communicate about a third party, or about things that are not present at the time. It expands immeasurably our capacity for manipulation – what one might call “I–it” communication. It is therefore, necessary, not for communication in itself, but for a certain kind of communication. Equally, there is a mass of evidence that we do not need language to think, even to conceptualise. One rather wonderful example is that, believe it or not, pigeons can distinguish between a Picasso and a Monet, without having any language in which to do it (Cerella, 1980; Matsukawa, Inoue, & Jitsumori, 2004; Watanabe, Sakamoto, & Wakita, 1995). But we also know that tribes that do not have numbers above “three” can calculate perfectly well to much larger numbers and have a grasp of concepts they cannot put into words. Language is not necessary for thinking, just for certain kinds of thinking. What was it for, then?
McGilchrist, Iain. Ways of Attending: How our Divided Brain Constructs the World (p. 10-11). Taylor and Francis. 2019, Kindle edition.