A few weeks ago during class we began exploring the topic of context with regard to spoken language and the written word, and the vectors through which these modes of communication can travel. We experienced first-hand how unsettling it can be to blur the lines between verbal, face-to-face conversation, technology-enabled conversation via a computer or writing utensil, and written words that are not conversation so much as they are the products of thought processes in a distant person’s head that they have converted into written language for anyone to access. Since then I’ve thought a lot about what exactly context is and how it relates to the interpretation of language in any form it might take. It is the comparison of context and interpretation that leads me to propose that context and interpretation are the Siamese twins of the comprehension of language; you cannot have one without the other. I believe that they share much of the same DNA and, even though they have differing aspects of their personalities, it is often difficult to figure out where one of them ends and the other begins. Or, to put it another way, interpretation of something like a conversation or the description of any event requires context, however context is subject to interpretation.
By the very nature of existing as living organisms, I would argue that how we receive, translate, consolidate, and recall initial experiences or contexts is, at the base of it all, controlled by our individual physiological and, at the next level up, psychological capacities. Differences in physiology that are unique to an individual or a certain set of individuals, if significant enough, will inevitably cause the effected organ or organ system to function atypically when compared to whatever the determined norm happens to be. If this incident of physiological abnormality turns out to affect a function that is necessary for receiving information, in some or all forms, it is likely that it will also subsequently affect that individual’s interpretation of the context, based on what external stimuli they received and were able to process and comprehend. An extreme example would be the malfunction or total lack of function of a sense like sight or hearing. Both of these are crucial in order to communicate verbally and, in the case of sight, to read. Communication can still occur within both of these mediums, even with sensory deprivation, but compensatory measures like sign language or books written in Braille must be taken, which automatically removes the individual from some of the most basic and inherent modes of context interpretation that we have.
Taking this concept even a little further, I’m not sure we can assume that even those with so-called normal physiological attributes could really, legitimately be awarded the absolution of knowing that what they see and hear is the same as any other given person. This is summed up rather nicely in the philosophical question of “what is green?” Can you describe it with words and be sure that it would embody the essence of green in another person’s mind? Or when you and another person look at a lawn comprised of green blades of grass and you both agree that the lawn is green, can you be sure that they’re seeing the same color you are? I know that I wouldn’t be able to say that I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt. The point is, that even at the level of the autonomic functioning of our physiology we can’t really know that we’re all pretty much looking through the same eyes.
In comparison to the knowledge that by the time you finish reading this paper your body will have performed hundreds upon thousands of small bio-functions without your direct knowledge or consent in order to keep you alive and focused, the idea of subconscious thought seems almost simplistic to access and control. Unfortunately nothing about the human psyche is simplistic and we don’t usually encounter the luxury of stumbling into profound realizations about our subconscious and what it all means, if it means anything at all. Even at a conscious level our individual mentalities are subject to change on an unpredictably frequent schedule. Every time we experience something new, we store that information somewhere in our brain in some form and at level of detail that varies depending on the impact of that experience. Every time we experience something multiple times, such as a phrase like “I love you,” for example, chances are that the context is not exactly the same from one experience to the next and we remember that. We log it into the collection of events, occurrences, incidents, and encounters throughout each of our lives that have culminated thus far into how each one of us will interpret the phrase “I love you” next time we hear or read it.
Of course the immediate external context in which the phrase is received will influence how it is interpreted but context is rarely completely apparent at any given time. It is revealed only as much as the mode of language and the surrounding circumstances allow. For example, a face-to-face transmission of language gives you tools such as tone of voice, inflection and body language, as well as the environment in which this person chose to talk to you in. All of these things are pretty solid indications of the context. Then again, much of how language is passed from one mind to another suffers a loss of one or more of these context hints. Phone conversations lose body language and environment, text messages and online “chat” conversations remove you from the context even further by the additional loss of tone of voice, and the knowledge that you’re really talking to who you think you are. Books and other published writings are some of the most severe instances of context deprivation. Chances are you’ve never met the author of the book that you’re reading and, unless they’re reading their work out loud directly in front of you, you don’t have any outlets from which to judge context other than the context given to you by the author’s text; which is just their interpretation of the context and what aspects they decided to share with you.
So, we fill in the blanks representing uncertainty with interpretive assumptions about the unverifiable elements of the context based on personally specific associations and feelings about something like “I love you.” Left to interpret this phrase with absolutely no context provided from the environment or situation, such as the words “I love you” written on a piece of paper that you find caught up in a gust of wind while you’re walking down the street, the only mechanism left at your disposal is speculation since all original context has been removed. This will most likely manifest itself in an imagined scenario that corresponds with your strongest associated feelings with “I love you.”
It is because of this tangled web of cyclical influence and entanglement that I have personally not been able to logically separate context and interpretation and, in fact, I’ve come to doubt that either is a legitimate concept without the other. If I try and surgically separate the two, I get a bloody mess on the floor and two parts of what should’ve perhaps more appropriately have been assembled as one whole. As such, context and interpretation must remain conjoined in order to ensure the survival of both. Through this convoluted thought process I have come to conclusion that it would probably be best if we just shoved them together until they become something like a chimera. We could call it “conterpretextion” or perhaps “intextricomption.” And that, my friend or whoever you are, is my plan of action.
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